Cutie Mark Catastrophes

Chapters

Truth or Dare
Unintentional Confession
Winding Down
Discovery
Fixin' Things
Hooves, Snouts, and Scootaloo's Wings
Ripped Pants, Apple Pie, and a Broken Spoon
Cracked Walls
Spackle, also Spelled "Family"
Filler Foolery
Only One
Dresses, Lunch, and Glue
(Don't) Blind the Messenger
Family Time
Elsewhere in Ponyville
Of Things Gross and Nasty
Captain Forever
Irresistible Shine
Teach Me
Melody of the Heart
The Pirate, the Child, the Treasure
Evening Fell Softly
Cutie Mark Couples
Of Royalty, Ballads, and Nightmares

Truth or Dare

Chapter 1: Truth or Dare

It was fortunate for Spike that Sweetie Belle was the forgiving type, because all it had taken to right his mistake the day before was a simple “I’m sorry.” This wasn’t to say she didn’t give him grief over it, but playful banter back and forth had become their usual mode of operation, and given that Spike had readily been accepted into their circle, four fillies and one dragon made their way through the trees and stopped in front of the Cutie Mark Crusaders tree fort that hadn’t been used for a while. It almost felt like an initiation of some kind to the dragon, and he drew back with Ruby as the other three held a whispered conversation that he just knew was bad news.

“I’d bet ten bits that they’re planning something horrible,” Spike murmured to Ruby, who was entirely unworried and happy to be out with her friends.

“Give them some credit, Spike. They’re always finding something fun to do, so whatever it is, it’ll be fun. Even if it does end in bodily harm.”

“Yeah, my bodily harm. My forehead still hurts...” There was a hush in the conversation as Sweetie Belle gave him a mock glare before returning to the three pony huddle. She was actually trying to make a point of finding a game or activity that wouldn’t be slighted against the dragon, who had different physical limitations than they, and as her friend’s voices faded out, she had an epiphany. Well, more like the idea to play a game that was as gruelling and embarrassing for everypony as it could be fun and enlightening, and she snatched it from the cruel hand of fate to eagerly deliver her brilliant scheme to the rest.

“I got it! Come on, everypony, inside!” Sweetie Belle exclaimed, not stopping to explain before rushing up the ramp. The rest followed in turn, and even with five occupants it didn’t feel cramped, although it was a bit dusty. Applebloom wasted no time cleaning out the lower level while Scootaloo showed Ruby and Spike around the smaller observatory on the level above, and after what seemed like no time at all, everypony was again in the main room, sitting in a circle and eagerly awaiting Sweetie Belle’s grand scheme for the day. It wasn’t at all what they expected, especially not from her, but that just made the idea seem that much more wild.

“C’mon, Sweetie Belle, just tell us already!” Scootaloo demanded.

“Yer patience trainin’ ain’t goin’ well, is it, Scootaloo?” Applebloom quipped, ignoring the glare. “Ah’m with Scootaloo, though. What’re we gonna be doin’?”

“Well, see as we have two new members in our circle, I thought of a nice, painless, relaxing way to get to know each other... Truth or Dare!” Everypony save Spike cheered at the idea. Being the only male in the group, he felt he had just been given a life sentence to all things humiliating, being woefully outnumbered and fairly new to the circle of friends.

Dear Twilight, today I learned that fillies like to gang up on guys and... wait, what was that? I said that a few days ago? That’s right, because it happens every time! Oh man, this is gonna seriously...

“Spike, what’s with you?” Scootaloo asked, curious as to why Spike was holding his head.

“Nothing. Everything’s fine.” For the next ten seconds... Maybe I’m just being pessimistic. Resolving to try and enjoy the experience for what it was, and clinging to sparse hope for an enjoyable afternoon, they settled down and chose their first victim.

“All right, Ruby. Truth... or dare?”

For an adventurous rogue like Pipsqueak, a small town setting like Ponyville could be downright excruciating, and while the earth pony couldn’t control his location, he could certainly make additions with his imagination. Sometimes the lines between imagination and reality got blurred in the young colt’s mind, but more often than not no harm came of his whirlwind adventures, and things had only become even more fun upon befriending Rumble. He knew he’d make a good first mate the day he watched him fly during hurricane season, and as the dark maned pegasus, who was acting as scout on their expedition through Sweet Apple Acres, cried out from above, it signalled the beginning of fun.

“Captain! Captain Pipsqueak, sir!” Rumble shouted excitedly, dropping like a rock and landing with a thud in front of the earth pony lacking in stature. “An enemy fort has appeared on the horizon. I’ll bet it’s filled with all kinds of treasure!”

“Treasure, ye say? Well, what’re you layin' around for, mate? Come on, let’s go!” Pipsqueak replied, helping his friend upright and drawing his wooden sword. Charging forward and following Rumble’s lead, they barreled through the orchard until coming to a screeching halt as the Cutie Mark Crusader's tree fort came into view. “Rumble, what’s...” he started, hearing voices and not expecting to find an actual fort. The number of fictitious baddies he’d routed and imaginary ships he’d plundered numbered in the hundreds, perhaps thousands, but he had never actually taken the next step.

“I told you there was a fort, Captain,” Rumble chuckled, giving him a light shove.

“Aye, what ye didn’t tell me is that it’s highly guarded! This one’s gonna take planning,” Pipsqueak replied, immediately assuming his mantle once more. “You’ll be walking the plank if you leave out vital information like that again, do you hear me?” he teased as they drew back to the cover of the trees. Ok, attack plans. I could always charge the front door, but I have no idea of how many ponies are inside, or how well armed they are. Maybe if I... Reality and imagination again became intertwined as he played out a myriad of scenarios in his mind, but with a roguish grin, he signaled to Rumble that he had developed the perfect scheme. “You ready for adventure, first mate Rumble?”

“Ready as always, Captain! What’s our plan of attack?”

“Well, let’s see... I don’t really have anything to hide, so truth, I think,” Ruby started off, looking around at the other ponies.

“Ok, here’s a questions for you then. Have you ever snuck any alcohol before?” Scootaloo asked.

“Don’t ya think that’s a little, ah don’t know, invasive, Scootaloo?” Applebloom interjected.

“What? That’s how you play the game, Applebloom. It’s no fun if you just ask boring stuff,” the orange pegasus defended.

“It’s really ok, you two. Nope, I’ve never snuck any drinks because I don’t need to. Berry will let me have them anytime I want, as long as I’m at home.” It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, though Applebloom couldn't help but be slightly jealous.

“You’re lucky then, Ruby. There’s more booze than you can shake a stick at flowin’ round mah family, and ah ain’t allowed anywhere near it.”

“Hey, Ruby! Have you ever gotten drunk?” Scootaloo pressed before the president presiding over the scene overruled it.

“Scootaloo, no questions out of turn," Sweetie Belle chided, chuckling as she contemplated what kinds of fun things the future held. "You’re next. Truth or Dare?”

“Dare of course, duh!” she asserted confidently, ready for anything. A slow, thoroughly disconcerting chuckle built as Spike came upon a dastardly ploy.

“Ok, I’ve got a perfect one for you, Scootaloo. I dare you... to dance ballet.”

“Wha... but... how did you know my mom was making me do that?!?” Scootaloo cried. “I can’t think of a single more humiliating... I’ll get you for this, Spike.”

Yikes, she really means it, too. “Hey, I didn’t know. I just thought it would be funny. Sheesh...” Ok, so, Sweetie Belle is sensitive about her singing, Scoots doesn’t like ballet... I wonder what I’m going to do that sets Applebloom off?

“C’mon, now, you’ll have yer turn t’ make ‘im miserable soon enough. Get t’ dancin’!” Applebloom encouraged, finding the time-honored ritual to be quite entertaining. Scootaloo was blushing even as she stood, walking to the far side of the room, and as she struck a pose, preparing to begin, her performance was interrupted by two unforeseen circumstances for which nopony inside were prepared.

“Thsh ez na mah fert! Srrndrr ah tersur t me!” Pipsqueak cried, bursting in the doorway with his trusty wooden blade held at the ready, clenched between his teeth. Unfortunately, all he received were shocked, blank stares and a load of confusion over his cryptic message. Rolling his eyes, he sheathed the blade and prepared to make his proclamation for all of the “brigands” to relinquish their vast storehouses of treasure to him when his first mate miscalculated his descent and, rather than covering the other exit, came crashing through the roof and tumbling into Scootaloo, leaving the captain seriously questioning his friend’s continued holding of position as second in command. Even if there were only two of them, after that blunder, he at least deserved to be demoted to “deckswab” for the better part of a week.

“What ‘n tarnation are y’all breakin’ mah fort for? Ah put a lot o’ work gettin’ this place shipshape, an’ ah ain’t havin’ some colts from the class below us bargin’ in an’ breakin’ everythin’!” Applebloom shouted, answering Spike’s unasked question as she ignored the disgruntled Rumble and marched straight up to Pipsqueak, who shocked everypony not by backing down, but meeting her halfway with nary a hint of fear and a smile befitting a swashbuckler like himself.

“Nay, lass, we aren’t leaving without the treasure! Miss Luna’s coffers need their dues, or it’ll be the moon for all of us! Rumble! Get yer tail upstairs and find the treasure!”

“Aye, Captain...” he moaned, prying himself away from Scootaloo who lay in a daze amidst wood splinters and shingles. “Sorry, Scootaloo. Didn’t mean to, uh... yeah, bye.” Bolting out the door and up the ramp leading to the second floor, Rumble set about his task while leaving Captain to deal with a docile horde and one irate earth pony. A quick search revealed a bag of lollipops, sure to appease the Lunar Princess, and he wasted no time snatching up the bag and flying around to the entrance to initiate emergency extraction of the captain as things were getting heated.

“Ah’ve half a mind t’ buck her hide right out the door!” Applebloom threatened, muscles tensing as she gave it very real consideration while Scootaloo offered no help whatsoever, wondering how so much spunk had been crammed into one tiny earth pony with a painted coat.

“Ye’d challenge the captain to a duel, eh? Right, let’s do it, then!”

“Hold up, Captain! I’ve got the treasure!” Rumble declared, swooping in and dropping the bag as he tried to speak, spilling the candies out all over the floor.

“Breakin’ an’ enterin’, and now yer stealin’?” Realizing that Pipsqueak had likely once again let his imagination rob him of better judgment, or in this case his fight or flight responses, Rumble redeemed himself of his blunders by grabbing a lollipop and offering it to Applebloom like a rose, jarring the filly from her fury while Pipsqueak rounded up the treasure.

“My apologies for the damage done to such a wonderful fort,” Rumble soothed, holding out the candy. “Is this your craftsmanship? You must take great pride in your work, and I offer my condolences for what I’ve broken.”

“Ah... uh...” Where’d mah temper go? Ah need it back, dang it! He put a hole in mah roof, the least ah could do is yell at ‘im just a little! An’ what’s the big idea, offerin’ us our own candy like he’s doin’ us a favor? An’ why the hay am ah takin' it? Despite her inner monologue, Applebloom accepted the lollipop into her hoof even as Pipsqueak commandeered the rest of the bag.

“Ah gt it, Rmbl! Cmn!” Pipsqueak urged, motioning to the door.

“Duty calls. I hope it doesn’t take you too long to fix,” Rumble said, bowing slightly.

“Don’t worry, it...” she started before Rumble looped his hooves around Pipsqueak and took off, leaving the clubhouse in disarray and full of very confused ponies. “It shouldn’t take... long?” she finished, turning around and looking up at the gaping hole. “What’s that colt made of, lead? Might as well ‘ave dropped a cannonball through the roof!” Oh, right, so now mah temper is back? It just ain’t fair...

“Applebloom, what the hay was that?” Sweetie Belle questioned, grinning widely.

“What was what?”

“Oh, nothing. Just the way you suddenly had a complete change of heart the moment Rumble offered you candy.”

“He was just bein’ nice! Ain’t no reason t’ be mad at that.”

“Yeah, but he was handing you your own candy, wasn’t he?” Spike corrected, glancing at Sweetie Belle who confirmed the statement with a nod. As the friends argued back and forth while Spike attempted to play damage control, Ruby tended to Scootaloo who had suffered no real injuries, much to her chagrin, and sat watching the doorway with an aimless stare; at least a sprained hoof or jammed wing would have given her an out.

“Scootaloo, what’re you thinking about?” Ruby inquired, dusting off some dust from the filly’s coat and expecting some kind of denial, and was quite pleasantly surprised with her enthusiastic reply.

“Pipsqueak, duh! Did you see the way he stood up to Applebloom? He’s, like, no match for her, and he was fearless! It was awesome!”

“Uh huh...” Ruby murmured, turning back to the rest. “Hey, everypony! Is Scootaloo gonna dance, or are you just gonna keep fighting!”

“Oh, she’ll dance all right. Sooner she goes, the sooner ah get t’ have mah revenge,” Applebloom muttered, glaring daggers at Sweetie Belle and returning to the circle. Scootaloo didn’t even have to bother being embarrassed, because all it took was one look to know that Ruby was the only pony paying her any attention. And so, she closed her eyes and let her limbs take over, the pinnacle of dainty and beacon of tranquility amongst a sea of agitation.

Rumble and Pipsqueak hadn’t actually gone very far away from the fort, having flown a short distance and then hid amongst the trees to wait for pursuers. Unfortunately, none came, making their “daring escape” much less fantastical than Pipsqueak had imagined it would be, and the thrill of the non-existent chase faded away, leaving him back in reality. Rumble was staring at one of the lollipops, unsure of how he felt after his first theft. Given that they were supplying the Lunar Princess with a peace offering, he could say they had the moral high ground, but Applebloom’s anger had kind of ruined the experience for him, and he turned to his captain, risked mutiny, and voiced his dissent.

“Hey, Pipsqueak, are we really going to keep these?” he asked, holding up the bag of lollipops. “I know Luna likes our gifts, but I don’t think she’d approve of thievery.”

“Well, of course we’re not going to just keep them. It was all just part of the fun,” Pipsqueak replied easily, smiling ear to ear. “Stealing isn’t fun unless you give it back. Getting chased helps, but from the sound of it, I think they are too busy... wrecking the place further?” he said, trailing off at the end and tilting his head to one side as angry shouts echoed through the trees, lasting only a few minutes before subsiding. “Come on, let’s go. You can do the talking, though. Something tells me I’m going to need Lionheart.” With a flourish, he whipped out his trusty blade, tossed it into the air and caught it deftly in his teeth, nodding for Rumble to lead the way.

Upon returning to the scene of the crime, they found the tree fort strangely quiet, and motioning for silence, Rumble and Pipsqueak snuck up the ramp. While they didn’t quite know what to expect, finding Scootaloo dancing didn’t even make it onto the list. The rest of the ponies had their backs to the entrance as the tempers died down and they gave their attention to the frolicing filly that was too deeply ingrained in her display to notice newcomers, her eyes halfway open but not perceiving the world around her. Rumble was vaguely curious about the dancing, though his eyes drew away from his fellow pegasus and to the hole he had unwittingly blown in the roof, leading his eyes back down to the builder.

I hope she’s not still mad. I mean, yeah, I did kind of break something... again... but it was an accident! He turned to whisper something to Pipsqueak only to find his unshakeable cohort thoroughly shaken, his eyes wide and the status of his lungs and their functionality questionable as he stood entranced by the overt femininity bombarding his brain. Time slowed as Pipsqueak’s jaw unhinged, his wooden sword falling to the ground with a loud clatter that instantly drew the eyes of everypony, including a mortified Scootaloo, onto the hapless duo. Quickly reaching down, Rumble snatched up the sword, stuck it back in Pip’s mouth, and forced his jaw closed with a hoof before turning with a sheepish grin to a crowd of ponies he barely knew.

“It’s... he... my dancing...” Unsure whether to pummel the peeping colts or have herself a girly fit, Scootaloo sank to her haunches and wished to the heavens she could disappear.

“Hey, Applebloom, look who’s back,” Sweetie Belle murmured, nudging Applebloom and pointing to the pair.

“Ah’m about ready t’ take a mallet t’ yer noggin’ if you don’t hush, Sweetie Belle. Ah swear, ever since you’ve started hanging out with Spike, you’ve been a right pain in the...” she growled before again realizing she had an audience. Alright, now’s mah chance t’ give ‘im the what for! Come on, Applebloom, be angry! Marching straight up to Rumble, she adopted a fierce glare and opened her mouth, though how her hoof made it inside, she wasn’t sure. “Howdy!” Dangit, that’s not what ah meant! “What’re you doin’ back ‘ere? Ain’t you busted the place up enough fer one day?”

Man, she is still mad... “I’m real sorry, I wasn’t trying to...” Rumble said softly, setting down the bag of candy and sliding it over with a hoof. “We were just having a bit of fun, but I messed up my fall a little bit. Here’s the candy back. If you’d like, I can help you fix it later.”

“Oh, uh... don’t worry ‘bout it, ah guess...” Applebloom replied, hesitating. Well, now ah feel like a moron, yellin’ at ‘im like that. He ain’t what ah was expectin’ at all. “It won’t take me very long t’ fix, ah think. Yer friend ok?” she asked, waving a hoof in front of Pipsqueak’s face.

“I have no idea. Sorry for bothering everypony. Pip? Come on, let’s go,” Rumble encouraged, trotting a few steps before turning to find his leader hadn’t moved an inch.

“Quit staring!” Scootaloo wailed, leaping to her hooves as a growing discomfort with the colt’s sudden fixation on her everything overcame her embarrassment. Galvanized into action, Pipsqueak tore out the door, knocking Rumble from the ramp in his haste and ignoring the groan from his downed friend as he disappeared into the trees shouting for everypony to abandon ship.

“Rumble! You ok?” Applebloom called out, peering over the side of the ramp.

“Some captain,” Rumble chuckled, coughing a little. “Thank you for your concern, Applebloom. I must obey the chain of command, but hopefully fate will bring us together again!” Standing and offering a slight bow for effect, he took off after his liege, leaving a confounded filly staring at the small crater where a pegasus had once lain. In a preemptive motion to keep the peace, Spike stepped in and whispered to Sweetie Belle.

“Any chance I could convince you not to tease Applebloom about colts? Discord may already be awake, but that doesn’t mean we need to lure him over.”

“I suppose I can lay off a little. Applebloom? Sorry for te...” she started before realizing that Applebloom was still outside. “Spike, you’re ruining my fun...”

“More like trying to keep three ponies from each other’s throats. Ruby? Is Scootaloo gonna be ok?”

“Ok? OK?!? How in Equestria could I be anything even close to ok? I just got seen by another pony dancing ballet! It’s over!”

“Shhh, it’ll be ok, Scootaloo. It was over a few days ago, remember?” Ruby soothed, placing a hoof on her friend’s shoulders. There was a soft thunk as Ruby’s intended encouragement drew Scootaloo’s forehead to the nearest hard surface. As normalcy was slowly restored and the group formed a circle once more, Spike had to wonder if there was a good reason why, barring himself, Twilight and her friends were all female. From his observation, things only got more chaotic with other colts around, but he wasn’t about to give up the bonds that were forming between himself and the other ponies in the room. It was rocky at times, and it always scared him when they fought, but he knew that even when tempers ran hot, the flames of friendship burned hotter still.

“Spike! You’re up,” Sweetie Belle declared, giving him a reassuring smile. “Truth or dare?”

“Whoa, uh... haven’t really given it much thought...” I don’t really have anything to hide, so truth might be safer. But then again, if I take a dare, maybe I could impress everypony. Gosh, this is hard... “Tr... da...” Oh well, here goes nothing. “Dare. And let’s at least try to make it something that doesn’t upset somepony. Please?” A hushed meeting was held, and Spike held high hopes as they came to a conclusion and turned back to him, all smiles.

“We dare you to write a fake letter to Princess Celestia.” While it may have seemed like a harmless prank, Spike hadn’t ever sent a gag letter to the princess, at least not on purpose or with his knowledge, and he had to wonder what repercussions awaited him as Applebloom scrounged up some paper and a pencil. However, eager to make his friends laugh, Spike sat in contemplation for a moment before adopting quite the sinister grin himself, chuckling as he got right to work. As he finished, he handed the letter to Scootaloo, awaiting approval.

“Dear Princess Celestia,

Today I learned that cake is loaded with fat and carbohydrates, and one should avoid over-indulgence lest it go straight to the flanks.

Your Faithful Student,

Twilight Sparkle

P.S.: If your hind quarters cause a lunar eclipse when you go for a night flight, it may mean you have a problem.”

Scootaloo barely made it through to the end of the letter before losing it, much like everypony else in attendance, and it took Spike a couple of minutes to calm down enough to send the letter. Twilight calling the princess fat? He wished he could be there to see what happened, and even knowing he was definitely going to get a lecture, the laughter easing the tension made any resulting consequences seem insignificant by comparison.

Applebloom was up next, and taking a page from her sister’s book, she opted for telling a truth. Spike had to wonder what had gotten into everypony that day, because it just seemed like they were trying extra hard to make each other miserable while he frantically scrambled to keep some semblance of peace, but as Ruby and he were adamantly ignored, along with their somewhat more tame questions, Scootaloo and Sweetie came up with their own inquiry, and suddenly the earth pony’s temper returned to her.

“Applebloom?” Sweetie Belle started, snickering as Applebloom rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, what? Come on, then, ask me a question!”

“Would you... date a pegasus?” It was a covert declaration of war, one that would not be ignored.

“Ah see what you did there, Sweetie Belle.”

“What? It’s a fair question!” Scootaloo quipped.

“Why do you wanna know so badly, huh Scootaloo? You interested? Hate t’ disappoint, but mah barn door don’t swing that way.”

“So, it..."

“Don’t swing fer nopony!” Applebloom shouted, moving from flustered to livid. “An’ ah’m ashamed o’ you fer even thinkin’ what you were thinkin’!”

“Guys, can we just...” Spike started before being partially deafened.

“NO!” all three cried in unison, returning to their bickering with gusto. Spike could only sigh, wondering if Twilight’s friends were the same when they were young, or if he were the only one blessed with more “excitable” friends. Ruby just shook her head, watching the fiasco, but as Applebloom darted away and returned with a mallet and ready for business, she decided she had witnessed enough needless fury for a day and promptly shocked everypony with a rather uncharacteristic outburst.

"Oh, for crying out loud! You’re all acting like a bunch of foals, you know that? Look, Applebloom thought Rumble was charming, Scootaloo couldn't quit watching Pipsqueak, and the whole of Ponyville knows Spike and Sweetie Belle were meant to be, so stop fighting about who likes who when everypony knows already!" As the last of the shout echoed away, it left calm, rational sanity in its wake. A nudge from Spike bid Sweetie Belle take the initiative making amends, neither refuting Ruby’s claims nor having any way to hide the faint blush coloring her cheeks.

“Sorry for teasing you, Applebloom. I didn’t mean to make you so mad.”

“It’s all right, ah shouldn’t ‘ave gotten so bent outta shape,” the earth pony replied, scuffing the floor with a hoof.

“And I’m sorry for taking it too far,” Scootaloo chimed in with a rueful smile. “I know there’s no way you’re even thinking about that... My head gets a little twisted living with, well, Storm and Rainbow Dash. My parents sure don’t help.”

“Scootaloo, yer mother alone is dirtier than all five o’ us combined. Ain’t yer fault you gotta live with ‘em,” Applebloom assured. “Friends?”

“Friends!” they declared, sharing a three way high hoof.

“So, uh... ah guess ah need t’ answer still... Ah guess ah would? Ah ain’t really thought about it none, but ah don’t have anythin’ against pegasi. Ah mean, both my brother and sister married unicorns, so ah don’t feel like ah need t’ be with an’ earth pony.”

“That makes sense. I mean, why should it matter?” Spike interjected. “It’s what’s inside that counts, not whether they have horns, wings, or nothing at all.”

“Or spines...” Sweetie Belle murmured, too soft for anypony to hear. “So, I guess I’m up next, then. Seeing how truth is such a dangerous subject, I’ll gladly take a dare.”

“Ruby, Scootaloo, come talk t’ me a second. Spike, you stay there,” Applebloom ordered, pulling back with the other two ponies while Spike and Sweetie Belle had a merry time looking awkwardly around the room. “All right, Ruby, you were spot on ‘bout Spike an’ Sweetie Belle. What do you suggest?”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“Well, ah don’t know, maybe we could give them a little push?”

“Whoa, hold on, Applebloom," Scootaloo warned, shaking her head. "We’ve tried being matchmakers before, and it didn’t end well. And given everything that’s just happened...”

“Look who’s bein’ a fraidyfilly,” Applebloom prodded, adopting a smug grin as Scootaloo became defensive.

“I am not!”

“Are too.”

“Am not!”

“All right, then. Let’s make ‘em kiss.” Suddenly, there was silence in the room as everypony stared at Applebloom. Teasing was one thing, but actually forcing somepony to kiss another? That wasn’t just mean for Applebloom to suggest at an age when a peck on the cheek was tantamount to a proposal in significance, it was borderline taboo. Scootaloo shook her head vigorously, trying to reject the mushy thoughts that plagued her while Ruby gave it due contemplation.

“Ugh, you can’t be serious, Applebloom! I mean... that’s just...” Scootaloo started, unable to fathom the horrors of a public display of affection, even among close friends.

“Well, how about if we all agree t’ do somethin’ nice for ‘em afterwards if they don’t like it?” Applebloom offered.

“Don’t like... it’s not about whether or not they like it, Applebloom! It’s a kiss! Kiss, don’t you get it? Wet, slobbery, mushy...” she shuddered, glancing over her shoulder to find that she had inadvertently raised her voice, leaving one mortified pony and one dragon who was torn between being excited or booking it out of there as fast as two dragon legs could take him.

“You... you wouldn’t...” Sweetie Belle said, taking a step back.

“Yeah, come on! Haven’t you all tormented each other enough for one day?” Spike added, crossing his arms. “That’s not the type of thing you just make another pony do. It’s just not...”

“I’ll do it.” There was a collective cry of alarm followed by a deathly hush as Spike slowly turned to face Sweetie Belle, limbs stiff and eyes wide.

“Y... y-you’ll...” Spike stammered, disbelief stamped on his face. Is she really pushing for this? I mean, sure, I’d THOUGHT about it, but I never expected it to happen! Not for, like... a really, really long time!

“A-Applebloom, make the dare.” In truth, Sweetie Belle wasn’t quite sure why she was, at that moment, ok with the thought. She certainly held Spike in high esteem, and was truly grateful for his encouragement the day Rarity had yelled at her, but she had to wonder if there was something more to it.

“Well, it kinda ruins it if yer askin’, but fine. Sweetie Belle, ah dare you t’...” she paused, her jaw dropping as their fort was invaded a third time by the terrible brigand duo, and her mind got jumbled in the worst of ways. “...kiss Rumble?”

“Wait, I’m kissing who?!?” Sweetie Belle cried, whirling around and staring at the newcomers who were every bit as confused as she. “I am not kissing Rumble, Applebloom!"

“Well, yeah, because that’s Applebloom’s job,” Scootaloo replied, snickering as Applebloom violently shook her head.

“Ah meant t’ say Spike! Sweetie Belle is kissin’ Spike, an’ then we’re through with this game!”

“Oh, are you sure? There’s two more ponies that might want to play,” Sweetie Belle pointed out. “Hello, you two, come on in.”

“Thank ye kindly, bonny wench!” Pipsqueak quipped before he found himself being stared down by an angry dragon, albeit a small one.

“What’d you call her?” Spike growled, instantly defensive.

“Pipsqueak, watch your language!” Rumble urged, standing between them. “Sorry, Spike. Pip didn’t mean anything by it, he just gets... caught up in things. We were just coming by to see if we might be able to join in, but if it’s going to be a problem, we can just...”

“It ain’t no trouble at all,” Applebloom said quickly. “Everypony calm down, we ‘ave guests!”

“Guests?” Scootaloo murmured, glancing sidelong at Applebloom who wasn’t paying her a lick of attention.

“Captain, tell the lady you’re sorry,” Rumble urged, alternately looking between his friend and Spike, who was still standing with his arms crossed awaiting an apology.

“I paid the filly a compliment, so why sh...” he started, before actually taking in his surroundings. Bravery and foolish bravado were two different things, and he was now outnumbered six to one. “Sorry, Sweetie Belle. I wasn’t trying to be rude.” The apology was genuine, and satisfied Spike well enough, and after the two colts were caught up on what exactly was going on, the spotlight returned to one young starlet and one dragon whose mind was getting a head start on shorting out.

Oh man, she’s moving closer! What the hay? I’m moving closer, not her! Wait, maybe both of us are? It was indeed the both of them, and they stopped face to face, blushing profusely and feeling their unspoken crushes on one another burning as only young love can. He edged his face just a little closer before the very floorboards shook at the deafening blast of the royal Canterlot voice, courtesy of one very unamused princess confronting her bewildered student.

“TWILIGHT SPARKLE, WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!” The fort continued to shake as everypony save one dragon who knew his time spent amongst the living was fast drawing to a close fell to the floor in a mutual fit of derision, tears of mirth being shed all around.

“I’m glad you all think it’s funny. Today’s probably going to be the last day you see me alive, after all...” Spike mumbled with a sigh.

“Oh, come... come on, don’t... gimme a minute!” Sweetie Belle started, attempting to comfort the poor dragon but not having control enough to do so. His sour expression did a lot to calm her, and order was restored as she assumed her position in front of him once again, a hush coming over everypony.

“Well, if, um... if you’re going to disappear, then I better... get my kiss.”

“Ooooo!” everypony chorused behind them, causing a timid blush to suddenly dominate the white unicorn’s muzzle with crimson. Spike was similarly colored, and as they both leaned a little closer, so did everypony in the room, the utter lack of background noise adding to the atmostphere. Closer...

Oh no, not now! But alas, it was not within Spike’s abilities to refuse messages sent back to him, and he could do nothing but beg for mercy as he again scorched a few strands of Sweetie’s mane with a fatefully ill-timed inbound message.

“Wow, Spike, I may not be into lovey-dovey stuff, but that’s just bad manners,” Scootaloo teased, a wave of snickers echoing through the room as Spike, unable to save face, took a step back and picked up the letter, paling as he read a very worrisome threat by one Twilight Sparkle, likely near combustion by the sound of her scathing words. Sweetie Belle would have been angry with him, were it not for the look of abject horror he now wore and the thousand yard stare to go with it. Snatching the letter from his loose claws, Sweetie Belle scanned it, glanced up, and wondered how Spike was still standing and not curled in the corner waiting for his life to end.

Poor Spike... He’s really in for it when he gets home. Maybe I can help cheer him up. And I swear, if one more thing interrupts my first kiss... “Spike? Don’t worry too much, ok? By the time you get home, maybe she’ll have calmed down...” He shrugged off her encouragement, too dejected at upsetting Twilight to care. I can’t kiss him like this, it’s just not right! “Everypony go upstairs. Now,” she commanded, her tone carrying enough weight that not even Pipsqueak would have stood up to her. They quietly obeyed, and as soon as they were alone, she sat down beside Spike and stared down at the floor.

“If it helps at all, we can tell Twilight we helped with the letter...”

“Sweetie Belle, I have the Element of Magic and the Solar Princess after me. I hardly think a few choice words from anypony is going to save me.” Sweetie Belle couldn’t well deny that he was in a dire position, but she had to say something to cheer him up, but what? How does one prepare a friend to meet certain doom? And that’s when she remember she was a girl, and he was a boy, and they were bound by a dare. Will all the grace and poise of an angry rhino, she abruptly shoved Spike onto his back, where he lay dazed and utterly confused until Sweetie’s face came into view, and the lights came on.

Oh man... oh man oh man! Is she really gonna... Panic almost made it, but then he realized something. There’s no better way to leave the world, right? “Sweetie Belle?”

“D-don’t get the wrong idea, Spike. They made a dare, so I... have to, you know...” She edged a little closer, and Spike became acutely aware of a rather odd burning sensation in his chest.

“It’s... just the dare?” Man... that’s not what I...

“Spike, hush,” Sweetie Belle ordered, blushing as she failed to keep from being visibly nervous.

She’s blushing... That’s good, right? If Twilight lets me live long enough to explain, this is going to make one heck of a report... oh gosh, she’s really close! Hurry up, Sweetie Belle, before my heart explodes! Their eyes locked for just one moment, their youthful curiosity and young love backed by the most irrevocable and sacred of all vows, and eyes closed as they prepared for whatever lay on the other side of the great beyond.

“SPIKE! You are so busted! Do you even...” Twilight shouted, charging up the steps and taking in the scene at a glance. Not even Twilight’s smoldering indignation could hope to match a singer’s vocal chords as she let slip a teeny bit of her frustration.

“Oh, COME ON! I’ve been trying to kiss Spike all afternoon, Twilight! You couldn’t wait just five more seconds before charging in here?”

“Trying to...” Her mind took a brief hiatus to wrap itself around the statement as the rest of the gang came tumbling in from the upstairs, falling in a heap in their haste not to miss a bit of the action, and Twilight’s mothering instincts kicked it into high gear as she noticed two other colts in the group.

Four fillies, three colts... Spike and Sweetie Belle were... They seriously were... With so many males in the room, and given the position she had found Spike in, they were clearly feeding off of her student’s forbidden knowledge and delving where no filly or colt their age should ever go. Spike soon became encompassed in a lavender aura and was yanked face to face with death itself, who made proclamation in a dangerously low growl. “You have a lot of explaining to do, mister.” Any urge to continue such a life threatening game was set aside, and as the rest left to find newer, more safe adventures, Sweetie Belle stayed behind to lament the regrettable loss of the opportunity of a lifetime, her mark disappearing in a lavender flash.

Unintentional Confession

Chapter 2: Unintentional Confession

“...an’ that’s all there is to it, Applejack! Ah wasn’t kissin’ nopony!” Applebloom concluded, both embarrassed by her siblings’ questioning in front of her friends and apologetic that Rumble and Pipsqueak had been all but threatened within an inch of their lives should they lay a hoof on her. Applebloom knew that respect went a long way in her family, and thus she kept her frustrations bottled as she made her defense, and with a sigh, her brother and sister relented.

“One more time, fer mah own peace o’ mind, you weren’t kissin’ either o’ those colts?” Applejack asked, casting a wary eye over Pipsqueak and Rumble. She raised an eyebrow as the bumbling pegasus took a step forward, nervously made eye contact, and backed up Applebloom’s story.

“Miss Applejack? Applebloom is telling the truth. Sweetie Belle’s dare was supposed to be the last dare, and after Twilight came, we decided to find something else to play.”

“Alright, ah guess ah can accept that. Come on, Applebloom, ah think you’ve had enough fun fer one day. Time t’ put you to work.”

“Awww, sis, do ah ‘ave to?”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac seconded the motion.

“Ah guess ah’ll see y’all later, then," Applebloom mumbled sullenly. "Sorry we didn’t get t’ have more fun.”

“There’ll be time t’ find treasure another day. Come on, everypony!” Drawing his trusty blade, Pipsqueak tore off into the trees with Scootaloo hot on his trail, muttering a barely intelligible “Bye Applebloom!” before dashing off. Rumble shook his head, making apology for his captain’s sudden exit and again for the confusion of the day before taking flight, barreling through a few thin, low hanging branches during his ascent. Applebloom continued watching until a cough from her sister snapped her back to reality.

“So, any particular pegasus you’d like t’ date?”

“Applejack!” Applebloom cried, blushing hard. “Ah ain’t thinkin’ ‘bout datin’ nopony!”

“If you say so,” she chuckled, turning away and starting back towards the rest of her friends who had hopefully calmed down after Celestia's rather undignified arrival to Sweet Apple Acres.

“Look here, Applejack. It ain’t fair t’ tell me ah’m not allowed t’ have any kind o’ romantic anythin’ with anypony an’ then turn around an’ tease me for it. Besides, ah never said ah liked Rumble, ok? Ah just think he’s nice an’ well mannered.”

“And ah never said anythin’ about Rumble. Ya hear that, Big Mac? Now we know who t’ watch out for.”

“Eeyup. Applebloom has a point, though. We are playin’ both ends,” he remarked, glancing back at the flustered filly. “As long as there ain’t no funny business with you two, ah don’t ‘ave a problem with you two bein’ friends.”

“Ain’t you the slightest bit worried, Big Mac?” Applejack asked, wondering how he could act so nonchalant.

“Nnnope. Ah’m sure all it’ll take is one swing of her mallet t’ clear ‘is mind o’ anythin’ worrisome.” She held her brother’s gaze a moment before conceding, realizing that her misgivings were unfounded and likely just the product of her own experiences. Big Mac slowed to a stop and motioned for Applebloom to continue on before placing a well-meaning hoof on Applejack’s shoulders, speaking softly as he again proved he could still read his sister like a book. “Don’t worry, AJ. We ain’t gonna let anythin’ happen to her, ya hear? Besides, her and her friends are around the age fillies start getting interested in colts anyway, and there ain’t no way t’ stop that. Now, come on. There’s still plenty o’ work t’ be done.”

“Banishment t’ the sun would be far too easy a punishment compared t’ the beatin’ ah’d give anypony who laid a hoof on mah sister, an’ that’s a fact.” Leaving Big Mac wondering if he was going to end up saving some poor colt’s life in the future, Applejack galloped back to Applebloom, swept her onto her back, and made back to the orchard with all haste, eager to dole out some punishment to the trees to work off some of her fervor.

“Worst... day... ever!” The proclamation of one peeved Sweetie Belle was followed by the subsequent slamming of the door to the boutique, the throwing of herself on the ground, and the proceeding of one filly scooting around the room with her hind legs as she lamented the four time failure of experiencing her kiss. Rarity stared at the stitch job that had just been ruined for a moment before finding herself quite amused by Sweetie Belle’s outburst, which continued in dire mutters as she went from one end of the room to another, and then back again like her strange scooting was some form of pacing. “First I came up with a terrible idea, and then Spike gets yelled at, and we all started fighting, and...” she continued, running into a wall and letting herself go limp, moping face down. “Nvr gt m frs kss.”

“I’m sorry, Sweetie Belle, but you really aren’t making any sense. Whatever is the matter?”

“I said, I never got my first kiss!” Rarity’s eyes went wide with horror, a hoof coming over her mouth as she found herself just as grief-stricken as her sister.

“You mean you were about to experience something that delightful, and somepony stopped you?”

“Three times!” Sweetie Belle wailed, glad that Rarity understood her plight. She picked herself up and met Rarity halfway as she came rushing over.

“What a terribly cruel twist of fate! My poor Sweetie Belle... I’d dreamed of that for so long, but to have it offered and then taken away, that’s just...”

“Dreamed?” Rarity immediately cursed herself for her slip, but maintained her calm.

“I still do, of course.” Well... for my first kiss with... that special somepony. No time to grieve now, my sister needs help. Shaking off the feelings that threatened to ensnare her, she gave Sweetie her full attention as she ranted about the unfairness of the day, not bothering to make any attempt to hide her obvious feelings that, as she continued to vocalize, she realized may well be stronger than she had first thought.

“...and then Twilight popped up, and Spike left, then everypony else... It was... was...”

“The... worst... possible... day! Oh goodness, this is simply unacceptable. We must do something to cheer you up, and I daresay I must have a word with Twilight this evening. I simply will not tolerate such callous behavior. I mean, the least she could have done was let you finish. Honestly, what was she thinking?” Spike and Sweetie Belle... I certainly approve. I couldn’t feel safer than having my dear sister with him.

“Sis, what’s that look for?”

“Mmm, nothing for you to worry about, Sweetie Belle. I’m about ready for a break, so why don’t we head down to Sugarcube Corner for a treat? I’m sure Pinkie could use some company, and if anypony can make you laugh, well, that’s her specialty.”

“Rather have my kiss...”

“Sweetie, a lady’s first kiss is supposed to be something special. Wouldn’t you rather it happen naturally at the proper time than because of a game?” Sweetie Belle didn’t take long to think about it before realizing that her sister was right.

“So... waiting will make it even better?”

Waiting... No, I can’t do this here, not in front of Sweetie Belle. “Why yes, of course! Why do you think I’m saving myself for that... special somepony... Come, let us go, then.” Sweetie Belle didn’t take any notice of the way Rarity trailed off, and as they bantered back and forth, Rarity summoned her fortitude and embraced her role as the strong, older sibling wholeheartedly. Pinkie was ecstatic to see them both, and it wasn’t long before the last of Sweetie Belle’s funk melted, much like the fudge over her ice cream sundae.

The jingle of the bell on the door signaled more customers, and Sweetie Belle casually glanced over before nearly choking on a spoonful of ice cream as Scootaloo, Pipsqueak, Rumble, and Ruby all trotted inside. Excusing herself, she dashed over to meet them, only to adopt a droll stare as Pipsqueak spoke first

“Ahoy, the bonny we...” Pipsqueak started before receiving a courteous hoof to the gut and a pleading look from Rumble as Sweetie Belle came rushing back over. “Ok, Rumble, I get it,” he muttered, rubbing his stomach and grinning widely.

“Sweetie Belle! I didn’t expect to see you here,” Ruby called out, waving her over.

“Likewise! What’re you all doing here?”

“Pipsqueak was going to ‘commandeer’ some snacks,” Scootaloo replied, her enthusiasm all too apparent. “Even pirates have to eat, it seems.”

“Aye, especially pirates! Now, what’re you waiting for, Scootaloo?”

“Uh, what are you talking about, Pip?” Scootaloo replied, having no idea of whatever action she was supposed to be engaging in.

“Captain, tis captain to you, lass,” he corrected before hopping onto a nearby table to lay out his scheme. “Here’s the plan, so listen up, you lot! Sweetie Belle, I hear you got a nice set o’ pipes, so yer gonna sing. Scootaloo, dance a merry jig to capture everypony’s attention. While they’re distracted, me and Rumble will get the treasure! Any questions?”

“Just one. I think you better run that by Scootaloo again,” Ruby chuckled, pointing to the open door as Scootaloo, too embarrassed over displaying her poise near so cool a pony as Pipsqueak, bolted outside and straight for home.

“Wait, Scootaloo! Why’re you running away?” Pipsqueak called after her, momentarily dropping his act in exchange for genuine concern and confusion. It didn’t really matter, and he threw caution to the wind as he took off after her.

“Goodness, Scootaloo too?” Rarity mused aloud, trotting over. “Come, Sweetie Belle. Let us head to Sweet Apple Acres.” Sweetie Belle nodded, preparing to give her departing salutations before she realized that a certain young dragon may or may not be alive, and thus deviated from her original plans.

“Actually, is it alright if we stop by the library on the way? I’d like to make sure Spike didn’t get in too much trouble...” Ugh, stop looking at me like that, sis! I swear...

“Would you prefer to go alone, or shall I accompany you?”

“Alone!” Sweetie Belle said immediately, catching a snicker from Ruby as she did so while Rumble respectfully maintained his silence.

“I would have guessed as much,” she replied cheerfully, shooting her a wink. “Well, let’s not delay any further, Pinkie. If I recall, the princesses are supposed to be in attendance. I wonder if that insufferable Discord is with them...” At the mention of the most fantastic non-pony in all Equestria, Pinkie shot out the door with unnatural speed, leaving a pink blur on Rarity’s vision before she too gave chase.

“Spike and Sweetie Belle, sitting in a tree...” Ruby sang, smiling at Sweetie’s sullen glare.

“...really, Ruby?”

“What? The library is a tree, isn’t it?” Ruby asserted confidently, shooting the filly a wink. “Go on, he’ll probably need some comfort after whatever punishment Twilight gave him.

“Yeah... Later, Ruby. You too, Rumble. Sorry we didn’t get to hang out more today.”

“It’s ok. Um...” he paused, scuffing nervously at the floor with a hoof. “If you happen to see Applebloom, could you tell her I’m sorry for breaking her fort?”

“Why don’t you tell her yourself? She’d probably rather hear it from you, anyways.”

“I dunno, she seemed pretty mad about it...” Sweetie Belle drew away a little bit and pulled Ruby aside, whispering quietly and glancing at the nervous pegasus every so often.

“Is Applebloom being angry really the only thing he picked up on?” Ruby asked, shaking her head and seriously doubting the mental capacity of colts her age. Sure, her father Snowdrift wasn’t the brightest pegasus ever, but he came by it honestly and had a caring heart to make up for it.

“It sure seems that way. Did you see the way Applebloom was acting?” Sweetie Belle replied, agreeing wholeheartedly. “I mean, he’s acting almost as bad as Freefall.”

“Ok, that’s a bit much,” Ruby countered, stifling a laugh. “We should at least give him a chance, right?”

“Well... what’s playing matchmaker one more time?” Sweetie Belle conceded, breaking the huddle and motioning for Rumble to come closer. “If you’re too scared to...”

“I didn’t say anything about being scared!” he defended, puffing out his chest and standing up straight. “Just you wait, I’ll apologize! I’ll fix things, you’ll see!” He turned to leave and stopped momentarily, deep in thought, before flying out the door in a flurry of tiny feathers.

“Wow, I didn’t even get to tease him at all,” Ruby lamented, heaving an over-dramatized sigh while Sweetie Belle looked on. “I suppose it’s time for you to go get your stallion as well, then.”

“Ruby, me and Spike aren’t like that...”

“Aaaaand that’s even more denial than Rumble. Congratulations, Sweetie Belle; you’re a colt!”

“Am not,” she defended, shoving Ruby playfully and doing a very poor job of hiding her faint blush. “You are right, though. I’d better get over there. Maybe I can help calm things down with Twilight, too. Sorry to leave like this...”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll just head home and see if my mom needs any help. Abstaining from alcohol puts her in a less than amiable mood, and she functions worse than when she’s drunk...” Ruby said ruefully, trotting side by side with Sweetie Belle as they left. They chatted for a while and parted ways, Sweetie Belle breaking into a gallop after waving her friend off. A tremor ran through the earth, causing her to pause momentarily as she wondered what could possibly cause such a disturbance, before she remembered her quest and continued on, unaware that the sound was Pipsqueak crossing the line between fictional heroism and full blown stupidity. Even if she had known, she likely would have opted to save Spike, and thus she paused to catch her breath as she neared the library, preparing herself for whatever gut-wrenching scene awaited her on the other side.

No matter what the intention, whether to date or simply remain platonic life-long friends, first impressions with a filly’s parents are crucial in nearly every regard. It was unfortunate for Pipsqueak that he made nearly every possible blunder he could, and it wasn’t because he lacked manners, but rather quickly became caught up in the spirit of adventure that was the blood flowing through his veins coupled with an inability to recognize how he was appearing to Scootaloo’s parents. He only wanted to figure out what exactly he did wrong, but his noble aspirations were lost amidst the thrill of the chase, and the boss battle that followed.

Quakehoof looked up, startled as a blushing Scootaloo, still unable to get the thought of dancing in public, much less in front of somepony as awesome as Pipsqueak, out of her head, burst through the doors and down the hall towards her room. He rose to investigate only to see a young colt he had never heard mention of tearing towards him at breakneck pace, and Pipsqueak’s advance into the dungeon was hastily interrupted as the massive gatekeeper slammed a hoof down in front of the valiant hero, sending a tremor through the ground and temporarily stunning the small colt.

“I’d suggest you leave right now. I don’t know who you are, but Scootaloo clearly doesn’t wish to see you.”

“Did you see the way she was blushing, dear?” Flying Grace chimed in, trotting over and eyeing the colt with somewhat less intent to kill, though still quite defensive of her child. “I hope you didn’t try to lift her tail or any such nonsense.” Pipsqueak’s eyes went wide as Quakehoof stomped a hoof once more, galvanizing the little pony into action. Anypony with a lick of sense would have told him that attempting to quell a duo of upset parents by drawing a weapon, albeit one of wood, was just sheer ludicrous, but Scootaloo had a much different interpretation of such an awesome display of bravery, and gawked from inside as Pipsqueak stood his ground.

“Ah nnly wnn spk wf Sootloo!” he cried, adopting a fighting stance and taking a step forward. Quakehoof had tolerated such an insolent and threatening colt long enough, and took a step forward to match him.

“Dear, I would think that injuring a colt wouldn’t go over well with the mayor. Please, do be calm.”

“Calm, indeed...” he growled, a deep, guttural noise on par with the roar of a manticore. He might as well have been to Pipsqueak, but cowardice wasn’t in his dictionary - not while he was on stage.

The gatekeeper’s “Intimidate” had no effect! Pipsqueak readies “Special Move #38!” Pipsqueak leapt into the air, gaining surprising altitude as he pulled a front flip while preparing to nail the brigand with a powerful downward slash, but the world spun in a fashion much different than expected as Rumble dropped from the sky, crashing into him and sending them both tumbling a good distance away. “Friendly fire, friendly fire! C’mon, Rumble, get yer head in the...”

“Snap out of it, Pipsqueak! Do you really want to make Scootaloo’s parents mad?” he shouted, shaking his friend frantically as Quakehoof slowly walked towards them.

“Scootaloo’s parents?” he echoed softly, suddenly seeming to realize from his altered perspective on the ground that he seemed to have made a minor miscalculation in launching hostilities. “I don’t think he’s quite ready for an apology.”

“No, really? Come on, let’s get out of here!” Rumble urged, taking flight as Pipsqueak sheathed his sword, gave a quick bow, and fled the scene. Quakehoof watched them go, taking a few deep breaths before turning to find his daughter staring google eyed at a stallion that he found less than worthy of her interest. Unfortunately, Flying Grace spoke first, and her stance seemed the polar opposite of his.

“First the dancing, then wearing dresses, and now you’ve found yourself a nice colt?”

“Mom! I never said anything about us being, like, together or anything! Ewww!” she cried, sputtering as she made her disgust for all things affectionate all too apparent.

“Indeed. And I’d prefer it if you keep it that way. I don’t want you hanging out with such a delinquent.”

“Hey! Don’t talk about Pipsqueak like that!” Scootaloo shouted, instantly becoming defensive. Grace and Quakehoof both shared a confused look, their daughter’s outburst one of actual anger and not merely simple frustration or agitation. Scootaloo realized her mistake immediately, and struggled to find a way to not embitter them against her new friend further. “I’m sorry for shouting, dad. But you have to believe me! Pipsqueak is actually really nice, he’s just...”

“Dangerous, Scootaloo. He’s wild, almost barbaric from what I’ve seen,” Quakehoof replied, unmoved.

“Ugh, I don’t know why I even bother trying to explain if you’re not going to listen!” Scootaloo knew if she stayed, she’d land herself in a heap of trouble, an unnatural and inexplicable anger rising within at the tarnishing of Pipsqueak’s name, and thus she ran to her room, restrained herself from slamming the door, and flopped down on her bed, closing her eyes as a dizzying rush of emotions culminated into utter confusion.

Why the hay am I so angry? I mean, I don’t even know Pipsqueak that well. I’ve seen him around town, but today was the first time I actually spent any time with him, and for most of it we barely talked. It just doesn’t make sense... and why the hay did he stand up for me like that? She didn’t stir as she heard her door crack open, and she wearily pounded the bedding with a hoof as she waited for further lecturing on just how horrible a colt could be.

“So... he seems nice.” Scootaloo pried her head from the pillows just long enough to glance back at her mother before burying herself once more. Grace tilted her head to one side as an unintelligible muffled rebuttal lost meaning as it was filtered through manufactured fibers and feathers. “He really robs you of speech that much?”

“I said I don’t need any teasing right now, mom! It’s been a crazy enough day, and I don’t need any of your... your...” She didn’t finish, but rather buried her muzzle into her pillow and went off on some kind of tirade which nopony could possibly hope to translate, other than “I’m a little more than slightly upset.”

“Scootaloo, dear, I wasn’t joking when I said he seemed nice,” she soothed, sitting beside her filly and placing a gentle hoof across her back. “It’s difficult for me to say where I stand, but I certainly didn’t see him as malicious, so I’d assume he had some kind of reason for attacking your father.”

“Yeah, he’s an idiot,” Scootaloo stated plainly, turning her head to the side and peering up at her mother who was doing a poor job concealing her smile. “I mean, did you see his size compared to dad? Pipsqueak is barely as big as his hoof!”

“Well, he certainly doesn’t lack heart.” Scootaloo couldn’t well argue with her on that point, but rather heaved a sigh as she again found herself viewing his foolish behavior as cool, rather than bone-headed, meddlesome, or any of the other words that Quakehoof likely would have used. “Have you known him long?”

“No, not really. He’s a grade below me, and I haven’t really talked with him much.”

“So, how did you meet, then?”

“Oh, you’re not going to believe this...”

Spike wasn’t mutilated, tortured, or maimed beyond all reason, which struck Sweetie Belle as the only possible outcome considering Twilight’s rather choice words in her hasty, anger filled letter. No, she found the dragon in high spirits as Twilight opened the door, sitting on the couch and enjoying yet another bowl of ice cream. He stared at her a moment, cleaned his face with his tongue while maintaining eye contact, swallowed hard and hoped that the burning in his cheeks was just his imagination. Unfortunately, Sweetie Belle was struck by the same mysterious affliction, and Spike knew that his cheeks were likely just as flushed.

There he is. He looks kind of nervous, like when I was about to kiss him. I wonder what it would have been like?

“Sweetie Belle? I’m glad you came here, actually. I was hoping to have a talk with you,” Twilight replied cheerfully, standing to one side and growing slightly confused as the filly found some bizarre fascination with a realm invisible to her eyes as Sweetie Belle looked on.

I hope he’s not going to be all weird around me now... I didn’t mean to make things strange, it was a dare! I had to!

“Sweetie Belle?”

I mean, yeah, I kind of maybe possibly pushed for it just a teensy tiny bit, but still! Maybe I should just...

“Sweetie Belle!”

“...kiss him anyways so he gets over it sooner!” There was an awkward moment of enlightening silence as Sweetie Belle realized she had just spoken aloud, much to Twilight’s amusement, Spike’s bereavement of a calm demeanor, and the twin fires flaring hotter within her cheeks. “I mean... um...”

“Sweetie Belle, why don’t you take a seat on the couch? I think there are some things we need to clear up.” She was the very model of obedience for the ten steps it took to make it to the couch, but Spike was there too, and no matter how far he scooched to one end, it seemed like much too small a space to sit. Sweetie Belle was contemplating using the ample space provided by the hardwood floor as her seat when a lavender aura quickly ended her decision making process, landing her within hooves’ reach of Spike.

“Um... hi, Spike.”

“Uh... hey.” A whistle rang out from above as Peewee fluttered down, landing on top of a bookshelf with the closest thing a baby phoenix can have to a smile pasted on his beak. It wasn’t something that Spike had taught him intentionally, but rather an unfortunate case of learning by observation, watching Spike practice the macho act in front of the mirror, and his timing couldn’t have been more perfectly horrible. Embarrassment reached new heights as the call sounded again. “Peewee, cut it out!” He gave one last whistle before flapping his way to the floor where Twilight sat trying to maintain her teacher face. She wasn’t doing a very good job.

“Now... I need you both to... to pay close...” Curious as to how many years it took Celestia to master a regal countenance, Twilight saved herself some agony and had herself a good chuckle, taking a few breaths and coughing once as she prepared to try again. “Sorry about that, you two. Now, Spike’s already explained to me about the whole truth or dare fiasco.”

Oh, please don’t ask. Don’t ask me, Twilight. Sweetie Belle’s pleading stare left little room for interpretation, as she silently begged the unicorn not to ask about her feelings that she wasn’t yet ready to give due consideration.

“You two can kiss now.”

“Wait, WHAT?” they pair cried in unison, looking at each other and then back at Twilight.

“It’s only a matter of time, so I may as well moderate it, right? Come on, you two can’t be worried about cooties or anything. I’m pretty sure Rarity purged Spike of that long ago.” Sweetie Belle’s demeanor fell further at the statement, and socially inept Twilight tilted her head to the side as she attempted to decipher Sweetie Belle’s sudden look of boredom accompanied by the locking of her hooves across her chest. “Oh... It seems I made this a little awkward...” Twilight murmured, realizing her blunder.

“Oh, right, because being asked to kiss in front of somepony else isn’t embarrassing enough,” Spike added. “And besides, I’m over Rarity. Totally. Completely.”

“You framed her lipstick on your cheek,” Sweetie Belle commented, idly examining a hoof.

“Yeah, but...”

“For a week.”

Ouch, that was brutal, Sweetie Belle. You certainly have some Rarity in you... Can’t you go just a little bit easier on my poor Spike? “Aren’t you two getting a little off topic? I mean, come on! I just gave you permission to kiss!” Twilight reminded, unprepared for Sweetie Belle's less than amiable reply.

“What, so it’s a requirement now? What makes you think I want to kiss Spike, anyways?” Sweetie Belle defended, her temporary agitation over Spike’s previous romantic interest winning out over her newly forming affection.

“Gee, I dunno, maybe the fact that I found you standing over him about this close to his mouth?” Twilight countered, holding her hooves apart just barely enough to be seen.

“For the last time, it was just a dare!” Sweetie Belle cried, throwing her hooves wide. “All I do is spend a couple days hanging out with a new friend who just happens to by male, and suddenly everypony is acting like he’s already bought a ring! Well, nothing’s set in stone, and I don’t really want some pony from a stuffy library giving me romance tips when I don’t even have a special somepony, or even want one!”

“What’s wrong with Spike, huh? So, what then, are you just...”

“I’ve had enough! I’m not kissing anypony, so just be quiet already!” Spike’s shout caused an immediate silence as he stomped up the stairs and out of sight, and Twilight’s ears fell flat as she watched him go. Sweetie Belle instantly regretted her harsh words, her frustrations being directed at Twilight, but clearly having more of an effect on Spike.

“I’m sorry, Sweetie Belle. I was acting very foalish right now,” Twilight conceded, sitting down beside the filly with a sigh.

“Does Spike... really care that much about me?” Twilight weighed the options of full disclosure regarding everything she knew about the subject, but decided against it. Relationships weren’t built by word of mouth and rumors from others, this much she knew, and she sat in contemplation before responding.

“I can’t speak for him, Sweetie Belle. I will say that Spike has been growing up very quickly as of late, and he really does care about your friendship, perhaps more than the others. Beyond that, it’s not mine to say, and I really shouldn’t be pushing such things. You both are very young.”

“Yeah, I know...”

“At the same time,” Twilight continued, “I didn’t really ever get to experience anything like the friendship you have until well into my teenage years, let alone romance, so I guess I was projecting a little,” she admitted with a rueful smile.

“Do you think I should go apologize?” Sweetie wondered aloud, glancing up towards the second story.

“Not just yet. Give him some time to calm down first. Today hasn’t exactly been the most tension free day for him. It didn't help that Celestia was less than receptive to his little prank, and I didn't help much with that letter...”

“I should never have mentioned that dumb game...”

“Sweetie, don’t blame yourself. It wasn’t the game that rubbed him the wrong way...” It was me and my temper interrupting a special moment. If only going back in time were actually a good idea... She shook her head, expelling the thought before she gave it any more consideration. Twilight slowly coaxed Sweetie Belle back to her usual smiling self, making a mental note to talk to Rarity when she had the chance. After ten minutes of silence, Twilight gave Sweetie Belle a nod, and the filly nervously made her way upstairs, stopping beside the young dragon laying back in his bed, his legs hanging over the side and his face covered with a claw.

“Whatever you’re gonna say won’t help, Twilight. What Sweetie Belle said really hurt, and no magic is going to fix it. She doesn't want a special somepony, and she clearly doesn’t want me. Why would she? I’m just a baby dragon.” Sweetie was torn between yielding to the sudden bout of nausea and running off to have herself a good, dramatic cry and smacking the dragon silly for being so ridiculously dense and mopey.

“Did you really believe what I said?” Spike cracked an eye open, taking a moment to let his emotions shift as he realized who it was that had heard him, and he slowly sat up, attempting to remain calm. Unfortunately, neither of them were at a “calm” age, and things very quickly escalated.

“Did you really give me a reason not to?”

“Was I talking to somepony else at the time?”

“Was I in hearing range?”

“Did I nearly kiss you in the tree fort?”

“Weren’t you bound by a dare?”

“Did I really look like I was being forced?”

“Do you wanna kiss me now?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I do!” A tranquil serenity descended like a spring rain, washing away the misguided frustrations of the two as Sweetie’s unwitting admittance brought a halt to the hostilities. “Sometimes...” she started, stopping as she appeared in deep thought, before heaving a sigh and speaking plainly, making the first motion towards reparations. “I’m an idiot.” While confusion was better than anger by far, it still wasn’t satisfactory. “Uh... Spike? This is kind of the part where the guy tells the girl that she’s not an idiot. That’s just the way it works.”

“Well, if the horse shoe fits...”

“Hey! I... Ugh, you know what?” she shouted, stomping hard on the edge of the basket and launching the dragon onto the floor, and he was about to protest until Sweetie cut him off. “You want to know the truth? I like you, ok? Like... you! But I’m not ready for a relationship, and I was super curious to know what it’s like to kiss somepony which is why I pressed it but now I wish I hadn’t cause I’m standing her yelling at somepony who I just want to be friends with until we’re a little older and I can kiss whenever I want without everypony freaking out!” It had been a lot to get out in one mouthful, and as Sweetie Belle stood over him, panting for breath from her outburst, Spike’s mind sifted through the contents and pulled away the most important pieces.

“...you still want to kiss me?”

“Oh, come on! Is that really all you got out of what I just said? Colts...” Sweetie Belle muttered, heaving a sigh and dropping her head, unwittingly invoking a heavy blush for the dragon whose muzzle was now just a few inches from hers. “I really... wasn’t ready to tell you all that just yet...” There were times when even a stupid colt could prove his worth, and Spike decided that it was one of those times. He stood upright and pulled her into a tight embrace, spreading his blush to her as he took a chance and gently stroked her mane, just like when he had held her while she cried a few days back.

“Sweetie Belle, you don’t have to worry. I’ll wait for you until you’re ready, no matter how long it takes.”

“Stop being smart,” she muttered, yielding to the the comfort even as her worries fought for dominance within with a grin pasted on her muzzle. “I like you better stupid.”

“And I like you better quiet.”

“Tough luck. I like singing.”

“So? I like growing up!”

“A moustache does not make one a stallion.”

“Are you kidding? It totally does!” Neither of them noticed the click of a camera as Twilight snapped a picture of the two bantering back and forth before she returned back downstairs. She had worried about how they’d work out their differences, but if both of them were mature enough to walk away from an early admittance of affection unscathed, then she was confident they could handle just about anything else.

“My voice does NOT sound like that when I warm up, Spike!”

“Well, almost anything...”

Winding Down

Chapter 3: Winding Down

Of all the boneheaded, ill-planned, all around ridiculous things Rumble had seen Pipsqueak do, attempting to engage the largest pony in Ponyville in single combat, who happens to also be his newest friend’s father, had to be pretty close to the top of the list. There was a line between good, clean fun and waking a sleeping giant, and Pipsqueak may as well have smacked an Ursa Minor in front of its mother. Pipsqueak, however, wasn’t visibly fazed in the slightest, and held his head high as he trotted through town with Rumble, humming his own theme to himself and generally paying little attention to reality.

“Do you ever worry?” Rumble started, breaking the silence and grabbing Pipsqueak’s attention.

“Well, of course I do! Why, should I be?”

“I don’t know, do you ever want to see Scootaloo again?” Pipsqueak stopped, giving Rumble the “you silly deckswab, grow some brains” look. It was a look he knew well, and normally only received when trying to taint the captain’s brain with lucidity, rational reasoning, or worse: common sense.

“What kind of a question is that? She was loads of fun to hang out with until she ran away. I still don’t understand that,” Pipsqueak mused, holding a hoof thoughtfully to his chin. Considering he was still clad in a bandana and eyepatch, it didn’t really do much for his contemplation, nor his appearance as a scholar.

“Listen, Pip. I don’t know how much you remember of your little confrontation with...”

“Boss battle! You don’t call fighting something of that size a ‘little confrontation.’ That’s like... like... calling you a little clumsy!” Rumble sighed, reminded of the gaping hole he had left in Applebloom’s tree fort. It had been gnawing on him the way she told him it was all right after having just yelled at him for it. Regardless, the Captain’s needs were far more pressing than his own, and thus he attempted to be as clear as possible approaching Pipsqueak.

“All right, Captain. Look, Scootaloo’s dad looked really angry. I think you should go apologize tomorrow, because if he wants, he could say you can’t hang out with Scootaloo. That’s all I was trying to say.” His somber tone seemed to reach through the antics and into the heart of the young pony, a heart filled with an adventurous spirit and a lack of proper teaching. Rumble knew it wasn’t really his fault, and he sat down in the road next to him and slung a hoof across his shoulders as Pipsqueak took an honest look at things.

“I hadn’t even thought about it like that,” he admitted, pulling off his bandana and eyepatch in one movement. “I just wanted to make sure Scootaloo was ok. I fancy being a pirate, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about anypony. But then he came over, all big and scary like, and... I just reacted.” Rumbled reached over and placed the bandana back on his head, patting it a few times before giving him a light shove.

“Come on, it’s not proper for the Captain to get all emotional in front of his crew,” Rumble said with a grin, nodding as his fearless cohort donned his patch. “Just... try to be at least a little more polite next time you’re over there? Seriously, drawing a sword isn’t the best way to introduce yourself... unless it’s to a zombie pony!”

“Zombie ponies, ye say?” Pipsqueak cried, leaping upright and glancing all around, the fires of fun stoked within. “All hooves t’ battlestations! This is gonna be rough!” Drawing his trusty blade, Pipsqueak charged through the town, cutting a swathe through imaginary foes as Rumble joined in, their reckless stampede leading them into the outskirts where Rumble armed himself with a twig. Claiming an “infection,” they turned to sparring, in which one hopelessly outmatched Rumble provided ample entertainment to lead his friend’s mind from his blunder. The afternoon grew late as Rumble ran out of twigs in the immediate vicinity with which to defend himself, and they flopped down in the tall grass, staring up at the sky as late afternoon pushed towards sunset.

“This Captain thanks ye fer the adventure, first mate Rumble,” Pipsqueak chuckled, his dialect overplayed but his words serious.

“All in the line of duty, Captain,” Rumble replied coolly, pounding hooves before drifting off into thought. I wonder what Applebloom is up to right now? I wish we could have hung out more. I mean, I doubt she’d have wanted to, after I broke her fort, but maybe she would have. What would we do? I don’t really know much about the farm. Pipsqueak watched with curiosity as a faint, almost imperceptible blush rose to his friend’s cheeks, and he grew a roguish grin, took a shot in the dark, and nailed his mark dead center.

“Yer cheeks ‘re tellin’ tales for ye, first mate. I wager ye’ve got a bonny lass on yer mind?”

“I’m, uh... gonna head back to town.”

“Sayin’ nothin’ be better than denyin’ it, eh?”

“This from the one who was rendered defenseless at the mere sight of Scootaloo dancing.” Pipsqueak would have offered a rebuttal, but he was too busy reliving the scene in his mind to trifle with such petty matters. “Oh, Captain, you’ve got it bad...”

“Huh? What’s that mutiny yer spouting now?”

“Nothing. See you later, Pipsqueak. I’m gonna head home.”

“Flee then, coward. The world will know how this day ye fled in the face of my superior... um...”

“Intellect?”

“Aye, that’ll do! Off with ye, then. I’m not ready to lay down me blade just yet,” he declared, standing upright and drawing his blade as the sun started to dip down below the horizon. He watched Rumble take flight after a short run to build speed, and he started to trot back towards town before stopping, staring curiously at a dark blue feather. It was a deep hue, like the night sky, and he instantly knew it meant good luck, and sheathed his blade, stuck it in his bandana, and began devising his next grand scheme, eager to squeeze every ounce of life from what daylight was left.

Out of the grass rose a pegasus stallion, his coat and partially maimed wings the same midnight azure like the feather. He watched the colt recede into the distance, chuckling softly once he knew that his target was well out of hearing range.

“Miss Grace, ye can be at ease. Aye, he’s a wild one, but there be a heart o’ gold in that colt.” He lifted his eyes to the sky, noting the shifting hue before starting back towards town. I’ll tail him the rest of the day, just like ye asked, Miss Grace, but ye’ve nothin’ t’ fear from that colt. Well, he may not help yer daughter become a lady, but I’m sure ye know there’re more important things in life.

Shrugging the weighty mantle of quietude and a facade of being a scholastic safe haven, the library served as a rather nice impromptu concert hall for one rising starlet and her number one fan. Twilight had assisted Sweetie Belle with her vocal warmups, largely by surrounding the filly with a sound proofing ward so Spike wouldn’t have anything to say about it, and Twilight found herself unconsciously bobbing her head to the music as Spike helped Sweetie Belle compose what she hoped to be her first hit single, playing the sheet music she had written on the piano, and adjusting as she made modifications. Things were going smoothly for about the first hour or so, but music became more sparse, and the intermissions consisting of frustrated sighs and agitated groans.

“No, no, that’s not quite right,” Sweetie Belle muttered, peering over Spike’s shoulder and scrutinizing the uncooperative notes. Levitating a pencil to her, she erased a segment, added a few notes, removed others, and stared blankly. “Uh, let’s try that, I guess. Start from right... here.”

“All right, you got it,” Spike answered easily, wriggling his fingers before tickling the ivory keys, arrogant though they were, thinking they could outshine the filly who took her singing stance and inhaled deeply. For as long as Spike had been out of practice, picking up the piano came back fairly naturally for him, and he let his claws do the work while he perked his ears, listening to the soft voice behind him as Sweetie Belle murmured the lyrics quietly to herself. He turned his head slightly to glance at his filly only to be interrupted by the discordant note that can only be caused by playing with one’s forehead. “That wasn’t it either, huh.”

“Writing music is like sewing, except more frustrating because I feel like I should be able to do it!”

“I don’t see a pen on your flank, so don’t be too hard on yourself, Sweetie Belle.”

“Oh, and you were looking?”

“Maybe,” Spike replied smugly, unwavering as she attempted to give him a sidelong glare before heaving a sigh and flopping onto her back. Living with a married couple had made the dragon quite aware of things that he really could have gone without knowing, and as a side effect, some tinge of suggestiveness had made its way into his humor and thinking, despite his best efforts. Sweetie Belle, however, could relate and took it in stride as Rarity, while not active, sure brought the subject up a fair amount. No solid line had been drawn, but oh, did Spike know when he crossed it.

I swear, our minds are way too old. While Spike was glad he hadn't accidentally upset her with his comment, it did little by way of elevating her mood, which was all he had been hoping for.

“Why don’t we take a break?" he suggested. "You can’t force the song to write itself, so let’s just relax for a bit.”

“Ugh, that sounds great. What I wouldn’t give for an hour at the spa. I could really use a good massage,” she replied with a groan, staring dreamily at the ceiling.

“I could try, if you’d like. It can’t be that hard.” Sweetie Belle rolled over and stared at Spike, the intensity of her gaze making him slightly nervous. I meant that as a joke, kind of. I mean, I would if she asked, but I expected her to flat out refuse. Is she really thinking about it?

“Sure, Spike.”

“Wait, really?!?”

“Yeah. In five years!” Spike rolled his eyes and swiveled back around, staring at the keys for no particular reason other than they weren’t Sweetie Belle and wouldn’t comment on the rising flush to his cheeks, one part embarrassment to two parts crushed dreams, muddled with a complementary dash of unmet expectations.

“Plenty of time for him to learn!” a voice from upstairs called down. “I have books on that, Spike! I’m sure you could become a master by then!”

“Thanks, Twilight, but I kind of feel like procrastinating right now!” Spike called back down, muttering to himself about the unfairness of life.

“Hey, come on,” Sweetie Belle urged, adopting an encouraging tone and sitting down beside him on the bench. “It’s not like I’d mind. I’m actually pretty curious about what it’d feel like with... claws.” Really curious. Ugh, it’s so lame being mature and young at the same time! “Next time I need a back scratch though, you’re the first one I’ll call.”

“Gee, how romantic,” he chuckled, nodding his understanding. “Dragons aren’t exactly known for their patience, so hurry and grow up already, ok?”

“What, so I’m not grown up enough for you? You’ve barely grown at all over the last few years, and you’re even older than me!” she laughed, shoving him playfully.

“If I can’t give you a massage, then I’ll just have to give you the next best thing.”

“A hoof rub?”

“Close,” Spike said smoothly, giving her a sly grin and cracking his fingers before coaxing a familiar melody from the ebony beast. Sweetie Belle closed her eyes, holding a hoof to her chest as she perfected what the original artist could only hope to sound like, or at least in Spike’s mind. Soon, his eyes closed as well, and they were lost for a few short minutes from all the frustrations and worries of life. She held the final note as Spike stroked the last key, and they sat in silence for a time before the young dragon turned to the filly beside him. “So, feel any... better?” he asked, trailing off as he was robbed of eloquence by the radiant smile of a shining starlet.

“Yeah, I feel a lot better, actually. Thanks, Spike,” she murmured, giving him a quick hug but breaking contact before she inflicted herself with burning cheek syndrome.

“I’m welcome?” Sweetie Belle tilted her head for a moment before remembering that she had seen him in such a condition before, though last time it had taken a drastic mane styling, courtesy of the resident mistress of all things beautiful and also her proud older sister, and she couldn’t resist but have a little fun with him.

“Way too easy, Spike,” she tittered, batting her eyelashes and flustering the hapless dragon further.

“I’m easy?”

“Wow, that’s quite an admittance.”

“No, wait, you’re easy!”

“You’re saying I’m what?!?”

“No, I mean... Gah!”

“Spike, I don’t care how tongue tied you are; telling a filly she’s easy isn’t very flattering, and is certainly not polite.”

“It isn’t? I mean, duh, of course it is! Is not! Wait, I meant...” While the piano didn’t move, Sweetie wondered if it would need tuning as Spike pulled a page from her book and promptly played a short, sweet tune that sounded a lot like, well, how applying one’s face to the keys with great force would sound. “I formally request you do... it... a do-over.”

Spike, you’re amazing. You always know how to make me smile. “Shhh, just take a deep breath and stop talking for a bit, ok?” He nodded once, rubbing his forehead while simultaneously giving his tongue a mental dressing down that would leave even the most grizzly, back alley hooligan from Manehatten with rosy cheeks. Choosing the apex of her most satisfying stretch, her stomach gave off a rather undignified rumble, jolting Spike back to normal.

“You should stick to singing with your mouth, Sweetie Belle. It comes out a lot better.” Her rebuttal was cut off as her gut was out sung by the gargantuan rumble of a growing dragon’s hunger, and they both stared for a moment before deciding that dinner may be in order. Adoptain an air of indignation, Sweetie held her head high as she abandoned the bench and made towards the kitchen with Spike following suit. Having been watching since the start of the song, Twilight descended and interceded as the two rifled through the fridge.

"Hey, you two hungry?"

“Hungry? Try famished!” Spike replied, his mind already conjuring meal ideas. “I bet I could beat Pinkie Pie in a cake eating contest, the way my stomach is rumbling,” he asserted, massaging his forsaken gut ruefully.

“Well, how about you two head down to the tavern and grab a bite to eat? Here, this should be plenty,” she encouraged, pulling out a small sack of bits and floating it over to Spike.

“This isn’t just another ploy to try and get us to kiss, is it?” Sweetie Belle asked skeptically, before another gurgle chipped away a large chunk of her misgivings. Twilight simply smiled sweetly and shook her head.

“No, I’m going to head back over to Sweet Apple Acres, so you won’t have to worry about any cameras. I just thought that it might be nice for you two to have a chance to just relax a little. Today wasn’t exactly easy, and I know I’m certainly not without fault in that, so consider this my apology. Spend some of it, spend all of it, it’s up to you. But Spike? Get the lady what she wants, all right?”

“Duh! What kind of pony do you think I am?”

“The scaled kind, but that’s just fine.” There was a lavender flash, and the two were left alone in the library.

“Come on, scaley, let’s get something to eat. Hmmm, I think I’ll have one of everything,” Sweetie Belle mused, throwing open the door and waiting while Spike caught up.

“I wonder if vocal chords can get fat... ouch, easy, I was kidding!” Spike exclaimed, rubbing his arm where a well placed hoof had made its mark. “Sheesh, you sure are grumpy.”

“Only when I’m hungry,” she defended, holding her head high.

“And sleepy, frustrated, moody, happy...” he teased, grinning as he was dealt another light blow. “And a point for me.”

“Hmph. I was feeling generous.”

Some ponies learn lessons quickly, requiring only a single mishap to make them aware of their error, and they are thus fortunate not to repeat their folly. Some ponies, on the other hoof, require many painful repetitions to solidify the necessity for change concretely enough to make a difference. Rumble, sadly, fell into the latter, and into the door, the ground, and pretty much everything else. He was eager to get back and glean a little wisdom from his brother pertaining to the proper course of action to make reparations with a certain little filly none-too-pleased with his callous rejection of the front door, and subsequent forming of one in the clubhouse roof, but enthusiasm is a wicked beast, striking whenever it feels so inclined.

“Hey, Rumble! Down here!” At the sound of Sweetie Belle’s voice, the little white pegasus waved back and dropped like a rock, and as he attempted to level out, he realized that his speed was too great and his angle of descent too steep. Spike shoved Sweetie out of the way only to have Rumble miss them both completely, tumbling a few times before sliding to a stop, covered in dust and laughing nervously. Standing upright, Rumble turned to find Sweetie Belle alternately chiding Spike for shoving her for no good reason and subsequently undermining her warnings with a coy smile, grateful for her hero’s quick actions, needless thought they were.

“Sorry about that, I have a hard time with landings, it seems...” Rumble offered, trotting over with a sheepish grin.

“Sorry? I’d be more worried about you hurting yourself, Rumble,” Spike replied, wondering how the colt wasn’t more scuffed up. “Does that happen often?”

“More often than I’d like to admit, actually.”

“Once a week?”

“Higher.”

“Twice? Thrice?”

“I think my record is... thirty-seven in a week?” Spike and Sweetie both shared a confounded look, wondering how the colt still managed to maintain an intelligence level greater than the average watermelon before sharing a good natured laugh with the colt who accepted his faults with honesty and a grin. Spike was fairly sure that, if the colt was really that accident prone in his flight, then he was the perfect colt for Applebloom, given that her mallet wouldn’t render him brain-dead as it might any other colt their age, though he said nothing of this, knowing Sweetie Belle would not approve. “So, what did you two need me for, anyways?”

“Nothing in particular. I just wanted to say hi,” Sweetie Belle explained, though an idea quickly followed. “Actually, Spike, do you mind if we invite him?”

“Well...” I don’t really want to say no. I mean, it’s not like I have anything against him, but I was really hoping to spend some more time just with Sweetie Belle. There’s just something... I dunno, magical, being alone with her. Sweetie’s voice came in soft, her muzzle close to his ear as she read his mind.

“Don’t worry, Spike. We can come together alone another time, ok?” Having no reason left to argue, and again slightly unsettled by her tone and the shiver that ran through his spines as her breath brushed against his cheek, Spike agreed without a further thought.

“Alright, it’s a date then. No, wait, not a ‘date’ date, just a, you know...”

“Spike, calm down,” Sweetie Belle chuckled, muffling him with a hoof and turning to Rumble who was patiently awaiting an explanation. “We were going to head to the tavern for dinner. You wanna come? We’ll pay.”

“I was going to head home and ask my brother about something, but he’s normally up pretty late, so sure. Thanks, Sweetie Belle. You too, Spike.”

“Hey, no worries. Come on, let’s hurry!” Had they stuck around just a little longer, they would have been able to take Pipsqueak along as well, but the unmistakable cries of neglected appetites could not be denied, and they made all haste to Starfall Tavern, home of all manner of good food and alchemical beverages that were as unconventional as they were tasty. They were midway through their meal when one more slid in alongside them.

“Hey, everypony! I didn’t expect to see you all here,” Ruby exclaimed, rushing over and plopping down next to Rumble, apparently not the slightest bit fazed by her close proximity to the colt who respectfully scooted a little farther away.

“Likewise! I thought you had to help your mom?” Spike replied, taking another bite of the spiciest curry they had available. Ruby simply pointed a hoof across the way where Berry Punch sat, sipping soda like wine and gazing wistfully at the bar in all its glory. “Not much you can do about that, huh?”

“Not a thing,” Ruby admitted, smiling ruefully. “It’ll just be another couple of days before she knows for sure or not if she’s pregnant, and then things will get better. Still... she’s doing really well, considering.”

“You really love your mom, don’t you, Ruby?” Rumble said cheerfully, taking a bite of spaghetti. “Just in the way you talk about her, it’s obvious.”

“For a long time, before she met Snowdrift, it was just my mother and me,” Ruby explained, nodding as she shot her mother a grateful glance. “Other ponies always thought she was a no good drunk, but she always put me first. No matter what anypony says, she’s a great pony, and the best mother I could hope for.”

“Family is really important to you, huh?”

“Family is first.”

“That’s right. Oh, what time is it? Shoot, I’ll be right back, everypony!” Rumble exclaimed, standing in a hurry. “My brother knows I hang out with Pipsqueak, but I really should let him know I’m here. Be back in a bit!” Ruby watched him go with newfound interest, and she gave a submissive smile as the expected teasing about the day’s hottest topic turned its sharpened fangs to her.

“Uh oh, is Applebloom gonna have competition?” Sweetie teased. “Better be careful of that one. She’s pretty vicious with her mallet.” Ruby wasn't entirely sure herself, and shrugged off the incendiary comment with a grin.

“I dunno. Maybe? He’s just a nice colt is all. Well spoken, cheerful... Makes you kinda wonder what his home life is like, you know?”

The answer, little did they know, was unconventional, socially unacceptable, and in some ponies’ eyes, downright contemptible. Attitudes like these were something Rumble had forced himself to shrug off, not that any insults directed at him were so much a bother, but the ones hurled at his older brother Thunderlane were one of the few things that truly made Rumble angry. All a pony had to do was simply observe his brother for just a few moments with his fillyfriends, Cloudchaser and Flitter, to know that there was more stability and love in that relationship than most, and they had fought tooth and hoof to make it work.

Thunderlane had a much more calm approach to the less understanding ponies, normally meeting disgust with a smile and horror with a grin, although on some of his more sour days he would alert neighsayers that they may or may not have a rather large object of thoroughly unpleasant physical qualities shoved much too far up their posterior to be thinking clearly. Cloudchaser was quite vocal when dealing with such ponies, while her timid sister Flitter usually made even the most callous, unaccepting pony wish themselves painful bodily harm by tearing up and clinging to Thunderlane.

Had Rumble not been in such a hurry and as excited as he was, he would have entered quietly and taken time to appreciate the tranquil evening setting before shattering it with his sudden entrance and subsequent slamming of the door. Thunderlane and Cloudchaser were having a rare moment of calm, whispering sweet words of a mushy consistency whiles Thunderlane held her close with one hoof, the other gently stroking Flitter’s mane as she dozed with her head in his lap. Everypony gave a start as Rumble came in and dashed over.

“Whoa, Rumble, easy! What’s got you so torqued, huh?” Cloudchaser chuckled, patting a space on the couch next to her which he eagerly occupied, only to be pulled into an affectionate embrace from the mare. “Fight any good battles today?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, kind of. I fought some zombie ponies, raided a fortress and escaped with the treasure, and even saved Pipsqueak from becoming a pony pancake on the underside of the biggest stallion ever, whom he refers to as ‘The Gatekeeper.’”

“That’s all? Well, that’s boring,” Cloudchaser said in mock disinterest, heaving a yawn. “No gallivanting with timber wolves or wrestling with manticores?”

“Yeah, something was up with the Captain today. Seems he’s been cast under a fearful enchantment from a rather adept sorceress.” Cloudchaser had mostly adjusted to such banter, but the last bit sailed over her head, and Rumble could only smile as Thunderlane stepped in with the translation.

“Pipsqueak found himself a filly, and couldn’t focus, huh?”

“Uh huh!”

“Ugh, I shoulda got that one!” Cloudchaser groaned. “Wait, since when has Pipsqueak ever been able to focus? You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

“Nuh uh! He’s even spacier than he was before!” Rumble felt two new hooves wrap around him, and he was temporarily sufficed as a stand in pillow for Flitter, who decided it was her turn lavishing hugs on her favorite little colt.

“That sounds really nice,” Flitter murmured, half-awake. “What about you? Did you meet anypony today?”

“Well, yeah! I made some new friends, and...”

“No, no, not like that, silly,” Flitter giggled, relinquishing control of Rumble back to Cloudchaser so she could see if he would blush. “I meant did you meet a filly to hold hooves with.”

“Actually, there was this cute filly there, and I... um...”

“Scored yourself a fillyfriend? Nice, bro! Highhoof!” exclaimed an elated Thunderlane. Having his train of thought so suddenly derailed by the subject shift, and the subsequent contemplation thereof, Thunderlane was left hanging and slowly withdrew his hoof, adopting a more sympathetic tone. “Had your first fight already, huh? That’s rough, bro. Hang in there.”Rumble leaned his head back with a sigh, glancing above him at Cloudchaser and then across at Flitter before reaching the conclusion he had many a time, which he stated promptly and with great confidence regarding the validity of his findings.

“I think you two fried his brain.”

“Well, of course we did! If a stallion is still thinking clearly by the end of the night, then a mare hasn’t done her job right,” Cloudchaser chortled, leering over at Thunderlane who pretended not to notice, looking elsewhere. “Come on, enough stalling. What’s her name?”

“Applebloom. She’s... brother? Why’re you looking at me like that?”

“Applebloom? You’re... bro? Respect,” he said solemnly, holding out his hoof and receiving a confounded pound from the colt who sat awaiting an explanation for such high praise. “You’re going to need every lesson you’ve learned to make it through the coming weeks in one piece.”

“Why, what’s so wrong with Applebloom?” Thunderlane caught the defensive undertone and smiled, proud that Rumble was embarking on such a laudable adventure.

“Well, I haven’t met the filly, but I hear that her sister can spot even the faintest hint of a lie, and along with her brother, she may have the two most protective siblings a colt could ever have the dread of facing. Treat her right, Rumble, or not even I can save you.”

“Ugh, she’s not my fillyfriend! We’re just friends! At least, I think...” While his hesitation was pertaining to their being friends at all, and not the fillyfriend issue, Thunderlane again proved his heart was in the right place, and his head flittering amongst the clouds.

“Well, what’re you waiting for, then?” Thunderlane laughed, giving him a playful shove. “You’ll never win her heart sitting here.” Cutting his losses, Rumble conceded that his path was set, and somehow, he was ok with that. Protective siblings meant they cared, and so did he, and with that in mind, he leapt from Cloudchaser’s lap and faced his brother.

“You’re right, Thunderlane. I’ll make sure I do my best, but for now, I’m going to hang out with some of my new friends at the tavern. A colt has to have time to plan for a surprise to be good, right?” With a proud nod from his brother, Rumble took flight and raced back towards the tavern and a dinner that was likely quite cold. If cold spaghetti was the price he had to pay to enjoy their company, then it was the best bargain around, and as he fancied the thought that maybe, just maybe, Applebloom had shown up while he was gone, he doubled his efforts and was soon racing back towards the hustle and bustle of the tavern.

I could always just apologize if I see her, but that seems so... I don’t know, not enough? I mean, I interrupted her when she was with her friends and busted stuff. "Sorry" isn’t going to fix her roof. Wait, Sweetie Belle and them are her friends, so I’’ll bet they’ll have great ideas on how to make her happy again! Yes, maybe I... shoot, there’s the tavern! Plummeting to the ground below as he nearly passed over the building, he realized shortly thereafter, with the wind rushing past and the door of the tavern growing larger at an alarming rate, that it would have been slightly more prudent to simply turn around rather than attempt to correct. He closed his eyes and braced for a little pain to accompany a grand entrance.

Discovery

Chapter 4: Discovery

“Good evening, Ponyville! How’s everypony doing tonight?” Sweetie Belle grinned as a chorus of cheers erupted from both sides of the tavern while she took to the stage. Rumble had taken longer than they expected, and all it took was a little coaxing for her to take the proverbial spotlight, in all its dim, small town glory. “What do you all feel like hearing tonight? That’s right, I’m looking for requests!” She strained her ears to sift through the answers, before one voice called out over the rest.

“All right, first selection will be ‘You Make my Heart Pound.’ Sit back, relax, hold your special somepony if ya got one, and don’t feel ashamed if you don’t. There’s one for everypony.” Beaming as she stooped down and brought up the selected tune, she closed her eyes and smiled as she recalled the lyrics, her mind on an equally taken purple dragon who was waiting with eager ears. After having so much talk of colts floating around, Ruby found herself invariably pondering the subject herself.

I wonder when I’ll find somepony? I’d never really thought about it before, since I spent so much time with mom, but now that she has somepony who can take care of her even better than I can, I wonder... if I’ll be able to think about romance... What would I even look for? Rumble is pretty nice, but I can’t say for sure if I like him, and if Applebloom does too, then... what would happen? Spike glanced away from the stage to find Ruby’s brow furrowed as she continued pondering the day’s developments, and she snapped back to reality as his voice came filtering through.

“Hey, Ruby? Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, Spike.” Whether it was a blessing or a curse was hard to say, as it varied by situation, but Spike had a habit of not letting things go.

“I’m pretty sure you’re not, Ruby. ‘Fine’ is not sitting with a friend, face scrunched up in a scowl so fierce you could probably warm Rumble’s cold spaghetti.”

“I was not scowling,” Ruby asserted, reaching for her glass of maple soda and stifling her laughter with sugar and bubbles.

“Frowning? Moping? Spontaneous face melting? It had to be something. Your face looked like this,” he teased, using both claws and distorting his face in a way his muscles never could. He held the position, meeting Ruby’s half-lidded glare and winning as she dropped the facade and had herself a good dose of genuine laughter.

“Hey, it’s starting!” Spike called out, point a claw towards the stage as the first few notes began to sound from the sizable speakers on either side of the stage. Sweetie acknowledged the wave of applause and encouragement with a hoof, taking in the scene and letting her passion bring forth the melody. By the end of the song, Ruby’s worries had been all but forgotten, and she closed her eyes, acknowledging her feelings, confused though they were, and letting the lyrics sink in; there was somepony for everypony - somepony to make her heart pound.

“It’s just like the first day...

when you made my heart...”

There was an ear-splitting crack as the door to the tavern was simultaneously ripped from the hinges and shattered into matchwood as Rumble stole the show, breaking through and causing ponies to jump out of the way while he tumbled in, coming to a rest as he slammed into the counter, dazed and unconcerned with his audience. His eyes refocused to find his three new friends alternately stifling laughter and attempting to appear sympathetic, and he shakily accepted Ruby’s offered hoof, rising unsteadily to his hooves.

“How did you manage to pass flight camp again?” Ruby chuckled, dusting off a few splinters from his mane and coat like such contact meant nothing, leading Sweetie Belle and Spike to both share a look of mutual bafflement.

“Let’s just say that I’m glad clouds are softer than hardwood floors,” Rumble muttered, tenderly rubbing the back of his head. Good natured laughter ensued, and after a short discussion, they were all happily munching on chocolate cake and ice cream back at their table. Rumble was temporarily distracted by dessert, but as he finished, his friends’ voices drifted away as his mind turned back to one filly, her ribbon, and her precious clubhouse that he had unwittingly punctured.

“Hey, um, everypony?” There was an immediate lull in the conversation as all eyes turned towards Rumble, who, even had he not been thinking about a certain filly, would likely have come across as slightly bashful all the same due to having the spotlight. “How mad do you think Applebloom is about her fort? I’ve felt really bad all day, and I’d really like to make it up to her.”

“Well, what’re you doing here, then?” Sweetie Belle inquired with a grin. “Applebloom is probably in the orchard fixing it right now. Why don’t you just go talk to her? I’m sure she’d love to see you.” Rumble dared to be hopeful as the rest nodded their agreement, though it was Ruby who gave him the final push, quite literally as she nudged him towards the door.

“Go on, then. What’re you waiting for? Bet wings would be pretty useful for repairing the roof.” Intent on not wasting another second, Rumble quickly offered them his thanks and took off towards Sweet Apple Acres, taking special care to land a fair distance away lest he desecrate the Crusaders’ clubhouse further. Unfortunately, he was met not with the sound of a hammer, but of silence, and trotting up the ramp reveal the fort to be deserted.

Phooey! I was really hoping she’d be here... His eyes lifted to view his transgression, and Rumble winced as he examined the hole which he could swear had somehow gotten bigger since last he saw it. Shaking his head to ward off the feelings of guilt, he reaffirmed his resolution and sat down at the doorway, where he wait for a time before a stroke of genius blindsided the colt: why not fix it for her? Without a single thought further on the matter, he took off for home, confident that Thunderlane would approve and quite readily allow him use of his parents’ tools. Just you wait, Applebloom. I’ll fix it up good as new! Or close, at least. Hmmm, maybe close isn’t the right word, either... But I’ll try!

“Ah can’t handle any more crazy, sis! C’mon, ah’ve eaten dinner, now can’t I please go fix mah fort before Twilight starts dancin’ on the table too? Ain’t Rarity enough?” Applebloom’s pleas were met only with laughter as dinner with the princesses, Discord, and most everypony else shifted more away from food and on towards alchemically augmented alcohol. In truth, she wasn’t all that bothered by the behavior, as watching Rarity attempt to buck trees that weren’t actually present in the most dainty manner ever contrived for such farmwork landed her flat on her stomach, giggling and seemingly oblivious to the dirt as she let herself go, happened to be quite hilarious. It was more jealousy that she wasn’t getting to partake, and the thought of her wonderful fort maintaining a gaping hole nagged at her “fix everything” complex.

“Ah suppose so, just get home after you finish. It’s already dark, an’... wait just a minute, here. You ain’t meetin’ somepony there, are you?” Applejack inquired, narrowing her eyes. Being several months pregnant, she hadn’t consumed even a drop of alcohol, much to her chagrin, and was quite lucid.

“No, sis, how could ah be? Ah’ve been here the whole time watchin’ Discord turn soup into obscene statues o’ the princess! How could ah find the time t’ make plans?”

“All right, then. Just don’t take too long, ya hear?” Shouting her thanks over her shoulders and eager to be away from the mess, Applebloom took off for the barn to collect her tools when she found a most curious sight.

“Pinkie? What’re you doin’ in here? Wait, is she... sleepin’? Now ah’ve seen everythin’...” Trotting over to investigate, she found her suspicions confirmed as she gently shook her awake. Scilliant blue eyes snapped to attention, and for a moment, Pinkie simply stared at Applebloom with an eerily neutral expression before popping up, as excitable as ever.

“Hey, Applebloom! You got me!” she chortled, prancing in place.

“Uh, right. Yer missin’ a right crazy hoedown outside, ya know.”

“What? It’s not a party without Pinkie!” And without a further word on the matter, she was out the door, leaving a much desired peace in her wake. Donning her tool bag, Applebloom loaded nails, a hammer, measuring instruments and enough slats of wood to get the job done right before carrying the heavy load out into the orchard.

“Finally, a little bit o’ peace. Ah’m all fer a good time, but that dinner was a bit much fer me...” It was a clear night, and the orchard was still warm under a starlit evening sky. Applebloom didn’t fancy herself as the romantic type, but she couldn’t deny that there was a certain allure in the serenity of nature, and she paused, taking in a deep draft of the country air, and letting it out in a long, gratifying sigh.

“Incoming! Hit the deck!” Applebloom would have absolutely loved to take the time to remove her tool bag and bolt for the nearest tree to put some distance between her and a very crazed Scootaloo that seemed to be flying towards her in slow motion, but sadly, Applebloom seemed to be caught in the same time distortion as her friend and the little earth pony trailing after her. While she was unable to move, the split seconds that felt much longer gave her time to mentally prepare as the impact came, time resumed its usual canter, and boards, nails, and pretty much everything spilled everywhere. Scootaloo collapsed in a giggling heap on top of a dazed, none-too-amused Applebloom that was still waiting for the world to stop spinning, while Pipsqueak defended them in their vulnerable position.

“Belay, there’s no time fer such formality, deckhand! Get back t’ the frontlines, they’re still coming!” Pipsqueak cried, cutting a swathe through the encroaching horde of imaginary foes while Scootaloo and Applebloom had themselves a chat.

“Ah don’t mind a little rough play, ah don’t mind gettin’ dirty, but what ah do mind, Scootaloo...” she started, her voice calm as the spunky pegasus grinned down at her with eyes that didn’t quite understand. Applebloom's volume suddenly rose to a shout, startling Scootaloo and leaving Pipsqueak to roll his eyes at his crew plus one survivor wasting time on such trivial matters. “What ah do mind is such disrespect fer mah tools an’ waste o’ good materials! See those boards? That one used to be a single plank! Now, ‘elp me clean this mess up!”

“But Applebloom, the reason we saved you from the zombie ponies is ‘cause we need your help repairing the boat so we can escape!”

“Fergive me while ah try t’ hurry,” she replied in a bored tone, slowly gathering her things together.

“No, seriously! Me and Pipsqueak were out exploring, and we found this beaten up old boat. The thing’s a wreck, and we thought it might be fun to fix up and go sailing in it or something. There’s a stream in the forest that could work great.”

“Yer not just pretendin’ this one?” Applebloom asked, her tone even.

“Nope, for real! The zombie ponies chasing us was a nice touch, though. Seriously, I’d have started hanging out with Pipsqueak sooner if...”

“Captain, lass! And ye’d better hurry it up or start helpin’ me! A captain ain’t a captain if he’s sleepin’ with the fishes!” Applebloom watched with faint amusement as Scootaloo turned her lithe dexterity into a weapon, beating the air and blending dance with karate in a way that was, she had to admit, quite impressive.

“Ah’ve got a right strange group o’ friends, an’ that’s a fact.” A broken boat? That’d be amazin’ t’ try an’ fix! Sailin’ sounds like a right nice idea, but what about the club house? Ah can’t just leave it. It’ll be itchin’ in mah mind until...

“Applebloom, hurry! We’re defenseless out here in the open!” Scootaloo cried, rushing back to her and helping her gather the nails.

“Aye, the lass is right! We can’t hold ‘em off much longer!” Pipsqueak shouted, tossing his sword in the air and bucking a zombie right in the face before snatching his sword before it fell to earth. Swept up in their fervor and the promised delight of fixing yet another dilapidated whatsit made the decision for her, and Pipsqueak sheathed his sword, racing over as the last plank was loaded into her saddle back.

“Scootaloo, ye ready fer the escort mission to end all escorts?”

“Aye, Captain! Ready and awaiting orders!” Scootaloo replied, throwing a salute.

“Escort?” Applebloom replied quizzically before drawing her mallet and dispatching whatever creature of the underworld had dared wander too close and sheathing it once more with a look of indignation. “What makes you two think ah can’t handle mahself in a fight?”

“So, the maid has grit, eh? Ye best prepared fer the worst, an’ welcome to the crew! All right, you sloppy lot, back to our vessel!” Bolting through the trees as fast as Applebloom’s burden would allow, they slashed, smashed, and kicked their way outside of the orchard and into the outskirts of town, where they entered a small wooded area that revealed a badly damaged skiff, long since abandoned and, to anypony else, beyond repair. Scootaloo gave Applebloom a highly skeptical look as her beloved tools were cast aside like sawdust as the fires of fixing stuff flared almost bright enough to light the darkened copse.

“Termite eaten, rotten, bunch o’ holes... Broken paddles? What, ‘re you both crazy, givin’ me somethin’ like this an’ askin’ me t’ fix it? Is it just dark in here, or is yer imagination runnin’ wild, askin’ me t’ fix... that?”

“Well, I just thought...” Scootaloo began, scoring the ground with a hoof before Applebloom’s elated cry of ecstasy shook the trees, evicted some birds from their nests in shock, and gave even the zombie ponies creeping through the trees cause to pause.

“It’s perfect! Ah love a good challenge, an’ this thing’ll be near impossible t’ fix! Ah can sand it, an’ patch it, an nail it, an’... an’ glue it! Ah get t’ bust out the glitter glue! Right here, an’ here... big glob here...”

“Yer acquaintance seems t’ have a bizarre obsession with wood, lass,” Pipsqueak murmured, smiling as Scootaloo shook her head, snickering quietly. “Seriously though,” he continued, dropping his pirate speech, “I’m real glad I ran into you. I didn’t know what I was gonna do the rest of the day, and playing with other ponies is way better than playing by myself.”

“Are you kidding? I was itching to get out and work off some steam. I swear, my dad can be such a... a...”

“Just ‘cause yer a seafarer now don’t mean ye can swear like a sailor," Pipsqueak cautioned, chuckling as the filly grumbled under her breath. "Don’t worry, I’ll find a way t’ defeat the Gatekeeper next time fer sure.”

“Oh man, I can’t wait to see that! Just... be careful, ok?” Scootaloo cautioned, mostly serious. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Nay, nopony can bring this Captain down! Ye... Scootaloo, is she nuzzling the boat?” Pipsqueak asked, tilting his head to the side. Scootaloo turned to find that Applebloom, in her fervor, was indeed rubbing her cheek against the moldy timber, proceeding to trot in place and put a hoof through the hull.

“You fight monsters, she, uh... fixes things. She’s like that.”

“Suddenly, I don’t feel very strange anymore.”

“You’re not strange, Pipsqueak. You’re awesome.”

“Really?” I’m not dumb. I know everypony thinks I’m strange, and that’s why I have so few friends, but she... she thinks I’m awesome?

What the... he’s giving me that look again, like when I was dancing! “Uh... you ok?” Scootaloo offered, suddenly extremely nervous and dreading the heat rising to her cheeks. Now I’m blushing too? What the hay! He didn’t even say anything mushy or gross! I shouldn’t be blushing... I’m not, I’m not blushing! I’m just... um...

“Yer a kind hearted lass, Scootaloo. Thank ye.” And then, without warning, a wave of unidentifiable and startlingly strong emotion swept over the filly, filling her chest with fire as the words, spoken in the soft of the night, sank in deep.

You’re... very welcome, Pipsqueak. Thoughts and words don’t always mesh, as what actually came out was slightly less touching. “Ahhh! I’m on fire, I’m on fire!” Any remaining aviary critters swiftly vacated the scene as Scootaloo darted out of the forested area and took a much needed night flight to cool down, leaving even Pipsqueak’s vast imagination unable to follow the transition. Applebloom’s revery was disrupted, and she immediately jumped into maximum fix it mode.

“Ahoy, Captain pony or whatever you call yerself. Go tame yer crazy lass an’ get her grounded so y’all can help me move this thing! This ain’t the type o’ thing ah can finish in a night, an’ ah definitely ain’t gonna fix it in the dark!” Scootaloo, however, was much too high for Pipsqueak to reach, a dark speck in the moonlit sky, so he simply watched from the ground as she dipped slowly lower, even graceful in flight. Scootaloo’s mind had drifted away, the sensation of being held by the wind rushing past bringing out a side of her she kept bottled away. Her flight wasn’t strong, and rather than maintain altitude, she let the wind carry her gently back down to earth, incorporating fluid hoof movements with graceful loops before touching down, a calm smile gracing her muzzle. Scootaloo’s short lived condition of inner combustion transferred to the diminutive earth pony, and he bolted away as she slowly opened her eyes, catching sight just before he disappeared amongst the trees.

Maybe... being a lady isn’t so bad. At least I can tease him a little. But seriously, what was with that strange... Just the remembrance seemed to fan the embers, and she shrugged it off, pushing the thoughts down as she trotted back to her friends in time to hear Applebloom giving Pipsqueak a dressing down.

“What do ya mean, ‘she lit mah face on fire?’ It looks fine, now get back out there an’ bring Scootaloo back! Ah need all three o’ us t’ lift this. Ah wish Rumble were here, ‘cause it’s gonna be heavy.”

“That the only reason you want him back?” Scootaloo chortled, trotting over and sitting down a few hoof lengths from Pipsqueak with her head held high.

“What other reason would ah want a cannonball near such a frail vessel? Now come on, then. Let’s get this back t’ the farm. We can stow it in the barn fer now.” Suddenly, Scootaloo was wishing Rumble was present too, as even as destroyed as the vessel was, it was still quite heavy. Carefully flipping over the boat, the three crowded under it and worked together to start back towards the farm. After crashing into several trees, Applebloom gave the worn skiff a heartfelt apology before smashing two holes in the front end so they’d have at least some field of view, limited though it was. All three were bone tired by the time they made it back to the barn around eleven, and Applebloom waved her friends off with a yawn as she made straight for bed.

“Applebloom, ah got questions fer you.” The sleepy filly could hardly stand, having carried both her tools and likely half the weight of the boat, and she looked up at her sister with a glazed over expression conveying an utter lack of interest or understanding.

“An’ ah got... got sleepies, sis. Can’t it wait till mornin’? Ah’m plumb tuckered.”

“Applebloom, yer bow is filthy, yer shaky in the legs, an’ ah’m havin’ trouble understandin’ yer mumblin’,” Applejack replied, apparently unmoved. “Ah don’t think you were fixin’ yer fort like ya said.”

“Nnnope,” she murmured, flopping down right there in the hall and unsuccessfully trying to bury her head into the floorboards which, given her state, would more than suffice for a pillow. Applejack soon realized she wasn’t getting anywhere, so she scooped the sleepy filly up and carried her to the bathroom, untied her bow, now covered in gunk, and gently washed her hair, seeing that she was too tired to do so herself. Even the stream of water did little more than relax the filly further, and she was snoring softly as Applejack laid her in bed, drawing the blankets up to her chin. Returning to the bathroom, she washed out the bow and hung it to dry before trotting back to her room and climbing in beside her husband, Silver Moonshine, who accepted her with open hooves.

“Well, sweetheart, I didn’t hear any yelling, so I’m guessing all went well?”

“Ah dunno, sugarcube. She fell asleep before ah could get a clear answer out of ‘er. Still, ah think everythin’ is alright. Whatever she was up to, she ‘ad a lot o’ fun, an’ ah can be grateful fer that, at least. She’s got a right nice group o’ friends, so ah’m doin’ mah best not to worry.”

“Look at how much you’ve grown... It didn’t even take any moonshine.”

“Now, don’t you mention that stuff,,” she chuckled, pounding his chest lightly with a hoof before snuggling closer, ready for sleep. “Ah’ll check with her in the mornin’. Until then, ah’m gonna take a hint from mah sis an’ get some rest fer two,” she said softly, grinning at the soft buck she felt as Silver gently laid a hoof over her stomach. It had been a crazy day for everypony, and she readily accepted sleep’s gentle embrace.

It was hard to call a hospital room home. Pipsqueak wasn’t ungrateful by any means, as it meant a place to sleep, free food, and the nurses there lavished plenty of care and affection upon him, but he couldn’t see any of them as parental figures. In a lot of ways, most ponies his age would eagerly trade places with him, not having a set bedtime, able to come and go as he pleased, and nopony telling him what to do, aside from the occasional chastisement from Nurse Redheart for making too much noise in the later hours. However, facing Scootaloo’s parents, discovering a real boat while tearing around with Scootaloo, and all around having the craziest, most awesome day he had experienced in a while culminated in an overwhelmingly seductive call to sleep, and as with many a doomed sailor, he could hear the siren song of the pillow harpy before he even turned the handle to the room.

“Verily, it is not proper to keep a princess waiting, young Pipsqueak.” Disregarding fatigue in exchange for one last burst of excitement, he launched himself at the closest pony he had to a mother, clinging to her neck in a manner no royal guard would ever have allowed.

“Miss Luna! You’re here?”

“Indeed I am, child,” she chuckled, lowering her head and dropping him down onto the bed. “Have any grand adventures recently?” Always ready with a story, he adopted a fierce scowl, leapt down to the floor, and wove a tale fitting for the attention of a princess, mostly fictional though it was. He wrapped up with a flourish, striking a pose and beaming as the princess gave him a hearty round of applause before quieting her laughter and being somewhat more serious. “Now then, what really happened?”

“But all that real stuff is boring, isn’t it?” he replied, trotting over and plopping down in front of her.

“Not at all, Pipsqueak. Everypony loves a good yarn, but reality is a place in which we must live, unfortunate though it may seem at times.”

“Oh, alright, um...” he started, adopting a thoughtful expression. “I met some cool friends, said something that made one of them run away, don’t ask me why... I met her parents, made them mad, then got a lecture from Rumble about needing to apologize and be polite. He’s probably right, but the bit about finding a boat is true! Applebloom is going to fix it up for us, and then we can have some real adventures! After that, I walked Scootaloo home then came back here.” Luna adopted a thoughtful expression, one particular detail catching her attention.

“So, who was the princess in your story?”

“Gosh, Miss Luna, do you really wanna hear about that?”

“Oh yes, I’m quite interested in who is making my favorite little colt blush.”

“Am I really?” he replied, bringing a hoof to his cheeks and finding them to be surprisingly warm. “Hey, I am! Luna, what’s that mean?”

“Well, it may mean that a certain dashing pirate just had his heart stolen,” she giggled, chuckling as Pipsqueak denied the claims.

“That can’t be right. Here, give me your hoof,” he demanded, any semblance of etiquette due to being in the presence of royalty cast aside as he lifted her hoof and stuck it against his chest. “See? It’s still there!”

“So it is, Pipsqueak,” she murmured, ruffling his mane with a hoof and glancing around the room. There was no decoration, a room like any other in the clinic, with bland white walls, uncomfortable green bedding, and a few cupboards for him to stow his trinkets and treasures. You truly are an impressive colt, Pipsqueak, maintaining such exuberance in the face of such bleak circumstances. You... truly deserve more than this.

“Miss Luna? Are you ok?”

“Quite, my dear colt. Now, as much as I appreciate your continued devotion, every young colt needs their sleep,” she chided gently, lifting him into bed with magic. “Thank you for gifting this princess with another grand tale, Pipsqueak. I hope to hear more of your own princess when I return.”

“Miss Luna?” She paused at the door, turning back to the colt who sat fidgeting with his hooves. “Isn’t there any way you could stay?”

If only I could, Pipsqueak. Verily, it is not your offerings that do me well, but your kindness to this fallen mare... “I would parley with the Pirate of Ponyville. In exchange for a promise to devise yet another tale and continued appreciation of the night, I shall stay with you until you are asleep. Does this seem fair to you?”

“Aye, on me honor, it shall be done!” he cheered, dropping into his pirate voice while he scooted over to make room. Luna climbed up and instantly found the colt curled against her chest, and she couldn’t stop an affectionate smile from creeping to her muzzle as she draped a hoof loosely over the colt who was quickly moving towards the land of dreams. It seemed only a matter of seconds before he was snoring softly, and Luna closed her eyes, savoring a few sweet minutes of serenity.

And to think Quakehoof was worried about Scootaloo hanging out with this lad... He’s a great haul o’ treasure that’s trapped in a waterlogged chest. The dark blue pegasus easily melted into the night at the sound of wings, and he watched as the Lunar Princess took flight. He returned to the window, watching for a moment before trotting off towards a large, almost mansion-like house with every light out. Shrugging his silence, he knocked softly on the door, and nodded to Flying Grace as she ushered him inside.

“So, Silent Gale, I trust you have some news for me?” she said quietly, motioning for him to sit on the couch.

“Aye, plenty, though I can sum it up nicely with one sentence, no fancy words or anythin’,” he chuckled, making eye contact. “Ye’ve nothin’ t’ fear from that child, Miss Grace. He’s got an active imagination, an’ he could stand t’ put a lid on it every now and then, but it’s little wonder he doesn’t know better.”

“Oh, and why is that?”

“I think he’s an orphan, Miss Grace.” Her gaze softened, feeling even worse over Quakehoof appearing so threatening to the tiny colt. “He’s staying at the clinic in one o’ the rooms. Now, I’ve no idea how long or if it’s just temporary, but he’s not a bad sort, and I don’t think ye should give Scootaloo any grief over spendin’ time with him. Honestly, what have ye t' fear from a lad named Pipsqueak? They spent most of the night together, an’ I’ll be scuttled if she didn’t come home with a smile. Ye didn’t punish her, did ye?”

“No, I said not a word, and she did have quite the spring in her step,” Grace admitted with a grin. “Thank you for your help, Gale. I’ll have a talk with Quakehoof in the morning, and hopefully things will settle down.”

“Oh, I don’t think ye should set yer sights on 'settled down,' lest yer expectations spring a leak. He’s gonna take some taming, and yer daughter loves every minute o’ crazy he shares with her. I’ll tell ye what, though. Ye’ve been kind t’ me fer a long while, so I’ll see if I can teach the lad a thing or two.”

“Kindness could not hope to repay the debt this family owes you, Gale. Now, get back to your fillyfriend. I’ve kept you long enough.”

“Aye, I’m in fer a good hollerin’, coming home this late without warnin',” he laughed, completely serious. “I bid ye goodnight, Miss Grace. Tell that son o’ yers to stop by sometime, would ye?” Her worries laid to rest by Gale’s encouraging words, she stopped at the base of the steps, looking towards her daughter’s room and wondering just what would come of her daughter’s involvement with the colt. In all honesty, she was excited, and could hardly wait to become acquainted with the one who may yet lend his hoof in the uphill battle of turning Scootaloo into a proper lady.

Fixin' Things

Chapter 5: Fixin’ Things

“Glitter glue!” Applebloom shouted drowsily, waking with a start and sitting bolt upright in bed only to promptly flop back down as the blood rushed to her brain. Not even the threat of unconsciousness could deter the excitement racing through the filly, her eyes shining with anticipation of an afternoon spent in the barn, surrounded by nails, sawdust, and heaps of wood glue. “This is gonna be great! Ah got a project so bloomin’ ‘ard... hey, bloomin’, ah’m right clever,” she chuckled, sitting upright once more. “Anyhow, it’ll keep me occupied fer a good week at least. Ah just wish ah didn’t ‘ave t’ fix the fort... Ah’d much rather work on the boat,” she mumbled, her excitement dampened by the urgency of getting the clubhouse back in order.

Well, maybe ah can get it fixed this morning. What time is it, anyhow? True to form, her internal fix-o-meter had woken her nearly an hour before she normally awoke, and the flames of reparation gave her all the fortitude she needed. Or at least, so she thought until she leapt from bed, only to give the floor a hearty, if overly friendly, welcome with open hooves and a firm nuzzle. “Oh, mah legs... Carryin’ that boat an’ all mah tools done made me sore all over,” she lamented, turning her head sideways and heaving a sigh. Huh, that’s strange. It seems t’ ‘ave made mah hair grow longer, too. Hair?!?

“Mah bow! Where’d... phew, there you are!” she sighed, relieved that it hadn’t wandered far. Unfortunately, it had wandered, not being in her hair where she remembered, and she gave it a much needed lecture to forestall future migrations as she pulled over a chair and yanked it down from the line strung up in her room for just that reason. “What were ya doin’ up there, huh? Worryin’ me like that. Yer just as bad as the floor, ya hear me? You better not wander off like that again, or ah’m likely t’ take a washboard to ya.” It was a somewhat complicated process tying the bow herself, but she never left without it, and had become quite adept, the procedure taking a mere five minutes. Fully clothed and ready for the day, she quietly snuck through the sleepy house, closed the door behind her, and dashed straight to the barn to sneak a peek at her newest treasure.

“It really was dark yesterday. What ‘n tarnation am ah supposed t’ do with that... that... hunk o’ rotten wood? Ah’m a repair mare, not a magician! Ah don’t even think Twilight’s magic could ‘elp this thing!” she exclaimed, trotting over to find that the condition had actually deteriorated further overnight, one of the side panels having fallen off. “What’s the big idea, huh? You not right in the head? Ah’ve half a mind t’...” She paused, sitting down with a sigh and glaring daggers. “Ah’m shoutin’ at a boat.” A boat that deserves it! Gettin’ mah hopes up an’ everythin’... it ain’t fair! “Now listen here, you sorry hunk o’ driftwood. Ah’m not stoppin’ till yer a proper vessel, ya hear?” It did, and was not pleased, and it rejected her proposal with all the vehemence that a moldy skiff could, the starboard side detaching completely and falling flat.

“Oh, so you wanna do this the hard way, huh? Just you wait til this afternoon. We’ll see who’s laughin’ then!” Defiant silence was all she received for her threats, and with a sigh Applebloom collected her tools, grumbling as she went. “Ah ain’t gonna let it win, no way, no how. Honestly, the nerve o’ some... Dangit, ah’m doin’ it again! Are you cursed? Ah’ll bet you are, that’s why you were out there all by yerself, isn’t it? An’ now you got me doin’ it again, but don’t think fer a second you’ve won, ya hear me?” She closed the barn door with a slam, her frustration running high at such mockery of her talents, fictitious and unspoken though it was, covering even the soreness in her legs as she trotted towards the clubhouse.

What am ah gonna tell everypony if ah can’t fix it? Ah don’t wanna let anypony down, but it may be too much even fer me. Ah hope today gets a little better... For whatever reason, not even the prospect of fixing the clubhouse seemed to cheer her, but as she drew closer, she found that fixing the roof may be one item to cross off her to-do list. What... but 'ow? Ah didn't fix anythin' in mah sleep, did ah? The roof is all fixed up! Who would possibly... Shedding her tools was simply not an option, but every hoofbeat that brought her closer filled her with a growing curiosity. Her mind was filled to bursting as she approached, arriving to the top of the ramp with the sun’s first rays shining on her back, warming her coat and lighting the scene, her breath caught in her throat at what she saw.

Not even a treasure chest full of glitter glue and mallets could have been more beautiful to Applebloom than the scene set before her. Rumble, lit by the morning rays and covered hoof to head in the wondrous wounds of craftsmanship, had just stolen the heart of a simple filly without even being awake, and as a million thoughts swirled around her head at once, she recalled blinking once before she was seated in front of the colt with a hoof outstretched and ready to tussle his mane that she couldn’t help but notice looked quite soft.

“What the hay am ah doin’?” she attempted to exclaim, though as breathless as she was it came out quite soft. Rumble, it ain’t fair! How’s a filly like me supposed t’ resist that kind o’ charm, huh? Yer words were bad enough, but this... this just ain’t fair! You ain’t even awake, an’ yer tyin’ mah head in knots an’ makin’ mah heart go all crazy, Rumble. “Hey, no, stop that!” she cried, smacking her own hoof away and holding it in front of her muzzle. “Now, listen ‘ere, you rascal. Just ‘cause ah’ve discovered the cutest, sweetest colt in all o’ Equestria who done fixed mah fort without even bein’ asked doesn’t mean ya get t’ touch his soft, earthy gray hair, ok? Now, if ah catch you near him again, it’s gonna be the mallet fer breakfast, ya hear?” Unfortunately, her hoof wasn’t the only thing that heard her voice.

“You... think I’m sweet?” It was then that, for the few fleeting seconds Rumble had left before losing consciousness once more, he learned Applebloom was either easily startled or didn’t like her internal ramblings made vocal being heard by anypony but her hooves, and with one deft movement that Rumble’s eyes couldn't follow, she let a yelp, reached for her fabled mallet, and reflexively bashed him over the head with all the grace of an angry rhino. Her face paled before growing bright red as she grew livid with her mallet for betraying her and the colt, and she hurled it against the wall with all the force she could muster while the colt returned to his adorable sleeping position with his head resting across his hooves, plus one rather painful looking welt.

“What’s the big idea?” she cried, horror and disgust with her mallet for committing such an underhhoofed, malicious deed. “He was just wakin’ up! That ain’t no reason t’ get yer splinters in a tizzy an’ go all crazy!” She sat down hard, on the verge of tears as she looked back and found the lump already growing in size, his mouth slightly agape with a trickle of drool spilling onto his hooves. Dangit, ah’m the one who went crazy. Ah was just so scared he’d heard me bein’ all mushy an’ stuff when ah ain’t ready t’ even think about it, but that wasn’t no reason t’ hit ‘im. Now.. he ain’t even gonna want t’ be mah friend... “Dangit, this is no time t’ feel sorry fer mahself, not when... that’s gonna need ice.”

Leaving her mallet to ponder its actions, and subsequent punishment, Applebloom raced back home, ignoring the groaning in her muscles, and filled a towel with ice, tied it off so the cubes wouldn’t fall all over, and returned to find Rumble still asleep. “It ain’t much,” she murmured, setting the ice atop his head and backing away, “but there ain’t a whole lot else I can do.” Except sit here an’ tell mahself what a numbskull ah am. Ah can’t believe ah hit ‘im like that! Ah’m just plain ‘orrible... This sentiment was unwittingly magnified as Rumble came to with a well developed headache and partially numb face from the ice, and not remembering what had happened nor why he was in the fort or really much of anything aside from the throbbing of his noggin, he buried his face in his hooves, displacing the ice as he let out a groan.

“Uhhh... Mh hd rlly hrts.”

“Ah know! Ah’m sorry, ah’m a terrible pony an’ ah didn’t mean t’ smack ya like that, but ah did, an’ now yer gonna hate me an’... an’...” Rumble’s ear twitched as he slowly tried to gain his bearings upon realizing he was not alone, and he lifted his head, cracked open his eyes, and suddenly found that the pain had been set aside as he beheld Applebloom looking far more miserable than he felt.

“Hey, are... are you ok?”

“Do ah look like ah’m ok?” she snapped back, her emotions fluctuating wildly as guilt clashed with gratitude wrapped in unworthiness and tied with the bow of attraction. What, an’ now ah’m gonna yell at ‘im fer bein’ concerned? Ain’t now way, Applebloom. Just stop diggin’... Rumble forced himself upright, reeling for a moment as his head went for a swim, and he picked up the towel full of ice, trotting over and peering down at Applebloom who was refusing to make eye contact. A sudden cool made her shiver as the ice was set atop her own head, and she slowly turned back to find Rumble smiling, of all things.

“Is that any better?”

“Why’re you... bein’ so nice t’ me?”

“You look sad, and I want to try and help.”

“Sad... you... ah hit you, Rumble!” Rumble leaned back a little as she shouted, unable to come to terms with the colt’s willingness to overlook her nearly concussion-inducing blunder. “That lump on yer noggin’ is from me! Ah hit you not five minutes ago... don’t you remember? An’ yer givin’ ice t’ me? You’re already banged up from fixin’ the fort, an’ you probably spent all night on it, an’... ah just...” Ah can’t... ah can’t cry an’ make ‘im feel worse, it’s just... ain’t right... She couldn’t stop a few tears from slipping out, falling to the floor and glimmering in the sunlight. Applebloom couldn’t have known how terrible a position she was putting Rumble in, on one hoof knowing that Applejack has made it very clear he was to keep his hooves to himself, but on the other, it was his first impulse to comfort the filly.

Well, if I can’t give her a hug, I could at least say something nice to her. He hadn’t really taken the time, what with the craziness of truth or dare overshadowing their first meeting coupled with his rather bumbling entrance, but as he gave himself a moment to simply look at Applebloom, he couldn’t help the faint, rosen hue that colored his cheeks as he came to a frightening, wonderful, and startling conclusion: Applebloom was beautiful. He knew she was cute, but there, with the sunlight at her back, lighting her mane and causing her tears to gleam as they fell to the floor, he decided that if nothing else, she could use an encouraging word.

“Did you know that your mane shines in the sunlight?” She slowly lifted her head, blushing hard as she looked over at the pegasus who was gracing her with a smile as warm as the morning rays.

“Ah... it... does?” The sunlight caught her eyes, and Rumble felt compelled to comment on that too.

“Uh huh! And your eyes... are like pure gold when the sunlight hits them. It’s really... quite beautiful.”

“They... but...” Celestia help me, ah can’t deal with this much... whatever it is! An’ he ain’t just sayin’ it, either... He means every word. It ain’t right, why me? Nevermind, ah don’t care why... Overcome by his seemingly boundless display of kindness, coupled with his soothing words of praise, Applebloom threw her hooves around his neck and shed a few more tears. As she was simultaneously amazed that his mane was as soft as it looked and chagrined that she was even thinking about that given their circumstances, everything melted away as she felt hesitant hooves encircle her, the embrace returned and even more mind blowing than his words. For a moment, Applebloom stopped trying to understand what was going on inside her head and heart, simply letting a colt with a seemingly limitless supply of empathy indulge her selfish tears.

Ah don’t know what’s goin’ on, but ah... ah don’t want t’ move. Ah’ve yelled at ‘im, and knocked ‘im senseless, an’ yet he’s still holdin’ on tight. Rumble, ah’m really sorry, honest... “Yer mane is real soft.” They both pulled away at the same time, two young faces sharing a tender crimson hue. “What the hay did ah say that for? What’s wrong with me today?” she wailed, before marching to the nearest table and planting her face against it with great force, proceeding to make her frustrations known verbally, though not one word was understandable. Rumble applied the ice to his face, grateful for the soothing cool, before plopping it atop Applebloom’s head.

“That sounded pretty painful, so here, use...”

“Stop bein’ so nice t’ me! Ah brained you with a mallet, fer cryin’ out loud!” she shouted, throwing her head back and whirling on the colt, only to find herself disarmed and stripped of her frustration by the playful, caring smile Rumble was using to tie her thoughts in knots.

“So?”

“So? What d’ you mean, ‘so?’”

“So.”

“You’re really not upset?”

“Nuh uh.”

“Did ah knock somethin’ loose?”

“Uh huh!”

“That explains everythin’.”

“Uh huh!” Confounded at every turn, unable to deny her sudden fascination with the colt, and filled with warmth by his indefatigable patience with her quirks, Applebloom shed her tough outer shell for just a moment more, wrapping Rumble in a massive hug and holding on tight.

Rumble... this is way better than bein’ upset, or shoutin’... Ah really am sorry, and ah’m gonna do my best t’ make it up t’ you. Fer placin’ so much weight on manners, ah sure could learn a few mahself... Rumble already felt the debt had been paid in full, but he was beginning to wonder if Applebloom felt the same strange feeling in the pit of her stomach that he was. He sure hoped so.

“Are you sure I’m just a... you know...”

“Friends can hug friends,” she asserted, glaring half-heartedly at the wall behind him. “Now, don’t go gettin’ the wrong idea, ah... uh...” she started, pulling away and raising a hoof to punctuate her point and promptly losing her train of thought as she saw the faint pink against the white of his fur in addition to the burning within her own cheeks. “Don’t, you know... go gettin’ any funny ideas ‘bout all this. Ah just wanted t’ say ah’m sorry, an’ that’s a fact.”

“You got it.”

“You don’t believe me, do ya?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You were thinkin’ it.”

“And you were too.”

“What’re you talkin’ about?”

“Nothing.”

“It was somethin’!”

“You’re right.”

“Ah know that, now just... ugh, colts!” An' now that ah have a half decent reason t’ be frustrated, what do ah do? Ah laugh with ‘im! “Ah’ve got a right peculiar noggin.”

“At least yours doesn’t have a big ol’ bump on it,” he chuckled, sincerely hoping that her momentary glare was feigned, which, judging by the awe-inspiring smile that came after, it was. Rumble’s stomach rumbled, prompting a similar agitated groan from Applebloom, and she immediately perked up at the idea of sharing breakfast with such a hard working pegasus.

“Well, if anythin’, you’ve earned a bite t’ eat fer all yer work. It’s still early, so maybe we can sneak somethin’ without mah sister knowin’!” Applebloom exclaimed, leaping to her hooves and helping Rumble upright.

“Are you sure that’s...” he started, smiling as he was adamantly and enthusiastically cut off.

“Of course it’s not a good idea, but ah ain’t takin’ no fer an answer. Besides, ah’m hungry, you’re hungry, and there’s a refrigerator full o’ good food. Ah’d say that sounds like a fix t’ me.”

“And you know all about fixing things, right?”

“Right! See, you’re learnin’ already.” With the sun at their backs and lifted spirits to combat the fatigue that was bound to catch up sooner or later, they raced through the orchard and back towards the farmhouse, a place promising a need for stealth with great rewards to offset the risks, as well as the hunger known only to young, growing, healthy ponies.

Gale was pleasantly surprised to have returned home to find his fillyfriend fast asleep, thereby foregoing a reprimand, but leaving before she had awoken? Note or not, he was cheating death, or at least a lecture, but a certain earth pony had piqued not only his curiosity, but Scootaloo’s as well. His word was his honor, and he didn’t want to let things deteriorate any further for a pony he knew was more than the air-headed, unrestrained hooligan Quakehoof apparently took him for. Chatting idly with one of the stall workers, he spotted his mark leaving the clinic, clad in his pirate’s regalia and already off on an adventure by the way he was swinging the sword.

“Lad, yer about t’ get a lesson from yer new captain,” Gale chuckled, slowly making his way towards the pony who gave Gale little cause to employ his skills in stealth; Pipsqueak was off in his own world. The young colt gave a pause, wondering why things seemed so much clearer, and he sheathed his blade so he could think aloud.

“Huh, now that’s really strange. Why’s everything... hey, wait a second, my eye patch! It’s gone! And my... my bandana, and... Lionheart! But I just...”

“Lookin’ fer these, bucko?” Pipsqueak whirled to find a dark blue pegasus with awesomely scarred wings clad in his attire, deftly tossing the sword in graceful arcs from hoof to hoof.

“Hey, give those back! Don’t you know it’s wrong to steal?” Pipsqueak demanded, stomping a tiny hoof in frustration.

“Well now, there’s an odd thing t’ hear from a pirate.” Intimidation factor aside, Pipsqueak didn’t let anypony lay a hoof on his blade, and he charged forward, only to stop, stunned as the pegasus spread his wings with a grunt, launching himself onto a nearby stall, springing off and onto the roof of a house close by.

“Listen up, Pipsqueak. I’m yer captain now, so clean the gunpowder from yer ears an’ listen good. Yer first task is to win back yer gear.”

“Ye got a lot o’ nerve, mister. And...” he started, gasping softly as Gale swept down and landed in front of him with a roguish grin.

“Captain, lad, ‘tis Captain,” he chuckled, patting the colt on the head. “Aye, you’ll adjust. Pipsqueak, I don’t mean ye any harm, ye understand? I’m hear t’ help the good Captain out.”

“How’s stealing my stuff gonna help me?” Pipsqueak asked, dropping from character, confounded and ecstatic at the same time. This pony is really cool! He talks like a pirate, acts like a pirate, and can even handle a sword like one!

“Ye want t’ set things straight with Scootaloo’s parents, right? I can teach ye, lad, but goin’ in armed t’ sign a treaty ain’t much of a show of good faith, now is it?” Gale grinned as the colt gave a short gasp of comprehension, amazed by his captain's wit.

“Yer right! Yer a clever one, Captain!”

“Aye, ye’ve got a lot t’ learn, an’ I’ve a lot t’ teach ye. Now, listen up...”

Mornings for Scootaloo had become an object of loathing, a time filled with manners, etiquette, and all sorts of other proper, ladylike things for which she cared little. Or at least, that’s what she continually told herself. Maintaining a cool, spunky image would be nigh impossible should she let it slip that she was starting to warm to all the facets of behaving as a proper lady, especially in the cosmetic sense. It wasn’t that long ago that her secret finally came out amongst her friends, and they had been more than accepting, though she still refused to act or dress up like an upper class mare in public, and she still had trouble bringing herself to dance, whether her talent mandated it or not.

The training itself was gruelling. Nopony in their right mind would enjoy waking early, marching up and down the stairs with books piled atop their head, learning how to eat with several different types of fork and spoon, each with its own specific, moronic purpose, and other such nonsense. Scootaloo was currently ignoring the rumbling in her stomach and, despite her craving for coolness crying out in opposition, impressing her mother by displaying just how much she had grown in regards to carrying herself. Three books atop her head, and there they stayed, and she even managed not to drop one as she turned and glanced at the door.

“Oh? Your friends are quite early, Scootaloo,” Grace remarked, glancing towards the door as well.

“Does that mean I can take a break?” Scootaloo asked hopefully, hungry and not particularly fond of the idea of being openly seen practicing.

“I heard no ‘please,’ and no, you may not. Please continue while I let them in. I think... ten more repetitions should suffice?”

“Ugh...”

“Now, now, groaning is not befitting a lady,” she corrected, smiling sweetly to match her daughter’s sullen glare. “Go on, keep going.” Scootaloo raised a hoof and was preparing to pointedly stomp to the top, but chose to play things safe, letting out a sigh as she continued up the stairs with regal posture. You make your mother very proud, Scootaloo. I know this isn’t all that pleasant for you, but you’re bearing it beautifully, just as you are. She made eye contact with her daughter, who managed to roll her eyes and smirk without dropping any books, and Grace simply shook her head as she opened the door.

“Welcome, you t... oh, hello.” Scootaloo paused near the base of the stairs, unable to see who it was Grace was addressing. “I don’t believe we had time to get acquainted when last you were here. Might I ask your name? Oh, where are my manners? Do come in, I’m sure Scootaloo will want to see you.” Scootaloo’s eyes experienced a sudden increase in size as Pipsqueak minus his pirate’s regalia trotted inside.

“Morning, Scootaloo!” he called out cheerfully.

“P... P...”

“Pipsqueak! Ye fer... I mean...” he self-corrected, trying his best to remember everything Gale had told him. Let’s see... respect towards the mare and her parents... No wild thoughts or fantasies, whatever that meant, and... shoot, what else? Oh well. “Might I ask why you have books on your head?” Said tomes were instantly evicted posthaste, flying into the wall and dropping with a slam to the floor, all without breaking eye contact.

“Books? What books? I don’t see any books!”

“But Miss Scootaloo, they’re right...”

“There aren’t any books!” she shouted, throwing manners to the wind and vaulting the railing along the stairs. With deft movements, she scooped up the books, disappeared down the hall, deposited them elsewhere, and roughly by the sound of it, before returning to the main room with a crazed look of triumph stamped on her face.

Oh yeah! The Captain also said mares love complements, especially concerning their appearance. It’s kind of silly, but if it’s what I’m supposed to do... “You look quite lovely this morning.”

Oh no! It’s happening! I’ve absorbed too much lady...ness! Gotta get rid of it! Pipsqueak tilted his head to the side while Grace turned her face away, her body quaking due to withholding a torrent of laughter as an undue amount of clattering sounded from the kitchen. “Oh, where’d it go? I can’t be seen like this! It’s gotta be... aha!” There was a silence, followed by the sound of galloping, sticky hooves. “Ha! Bet I’m not lovely now!” Scootaloo exclaimed triumphantly, covered head to hoof in maple syrup.

Let’s see... feelings? “That’s ok, you’re still pretty on the inside, Miss Scoota...”

“Gah! What’s it take, huh?” Scootaloo shouted, rearing and holding her head in both hooves. “I’m not pretty, I’m not a lady, and I’m definitely not ‘Miss’ anything! What the hay happened to you?”

“But...”

“But nothing! I’m not dainty, and you can’t prove otherwise, so there!”

“You can dance really nice, though.” It was the final crushing blow to Scootaloo’s ego, and she dropped silent, blushed hard, and bolted from the room to have herself a gooey sulk. “Hey, wait a second!” The only response he heard was the slamming of the door to her room, and he turned to Grace who was turning deep red, nearly blue as tears streamed from her eyes. “What’d I say wrong? Actually, I’m sorry, I never introduced myself. I’m Pipsqueak, and I’m Scootaloo’s friend, I think. Can I have your name?”

You, my dear colt, are the perfect weapon to help Scootaloo. As a mother, I can only do so much, but with somepony her age, and a colt at that, encouraging her towards being a proper lady? She’s defenseless! Unable to contain it any longer, Grace let forth a rather unladylike and thunderous chorus of laughter, managing to stay upright and placing a reassuring hoof on Pipsqueak’s back as he waited patiently for an answer. “Oh... oh my, I’m... I’m terribly sorry,” Grace replied, taking a few deep breaths. “How rude of me. I am Flying Grace, Scootaloo’s mother, and I welcome you into our home.”

“What’s he doing here?” They both turned to find Quakehoof standing at the top of the stairs with the ever cheery foal Bright Hope quite contentedly making an early morning meal of her father’s mane.

“Uh oh, the Gatekeeper,” Pipsqueak murmured, reaching for his sword out of habit but finding himself defenseless as the gargantuan pony descended to the stage. No sword, no armor, no additional party members... My chances of survival are, well... really bad. Do I run? Maybe I can get the upper hoof if I use some sort of... what do they call it, “gorilla warfare?” What’s that mean, anyway? Do I just run in and pummel his leg until he drops? All Gale’s advice melted away as imagination took over, and thus it was that his life was spared as he found he was not alone in the fight, and his ally was infinitely more effective in taming the beast than he would have been.

“Now, Quakehoof, let us not be rude to our guest,” she soothed, closing the distance between them with a short, stunningly graceful flight before lighting beside him like a dove and nuzzling up beside him. “He’s proven himself to be quite the gentlecolt this morning.”

“Gentlecolt? That ruffian?”

“‘The Siren uses ‘Caress.’ The Gatekeeper is paralyzed... Brilliant!” Pipsqueak muttered, his odds of survival rising dramatically. Quakehoof and Grace both turned to the colt with confused looks on their faces. Unfortunately, Scootaloo heard her father's comment, and came bolting from her room, soaking wet from the shower and furious that her father had insulted her friend yet again.

“Dad! Don’t talk to him that way!”

“Um, Scootaloo, it’s really not appropriate to be seen in your current state. Please, go dry yourself off,” Grace said softly. She looked at herself, then at Pipsqueak, who couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Friendly fire... Scootaloo’s... charm. Paralyzed...” Letting out an uncharacteristically high-pitched squeal, Scootaloo fled the scene yet again to the cooling heat of her steaming shower, the water feeling refreshingly cold against her burning cheeks. Quakehoof shook his head, glaring back at the colt who hadn’t averted his eyes, but openly stared at his daughter.

“Gentlecolt, indeed...”

“Hmmm, he does seem a bit more... aggressive than he was a moment ago. Just a moment...” Grace urged, striding over and blocking the colt’s vision of Quakehoof by sitting down in front of him. “Pipsqueak? Are you all right?”

“All right? Well, I guess so... Why do you ask, Miss Grace?”

“Now I’m really confused. Is this colt all right in the head?” Quakehoof muttered, receiving a warning glare from Grace who, unfortunately, hadn’t found the time to relay Gale’s information to her husband.

“Dear! That is not appropriate,” Grace hissed. “If you have nothing nice to say, then please, take yourself elsewhere. I’ll not have you threatening or insulting anypony in this house.”

“Hmph.” Hope waved enthusiastically to Pipsqueak as her father left, his heavy hoof beats sending vibrations through the floor. Grace turned back to Pipsqueak, who was staring down at the floor.

“Maybe I’m not right in the head... I got all carried away again.”

“Don’t say things like that... I think you’re quite charming, Pipsqueak,” Grace soothed, placing a gentle hoof on the colt's shoulders.

“That other pony doesn’t think so. Is that Scootaloo’s dad?”

“Yes, that’s her father and my husband, Quakehoof,” Grace affirmed, looking towards the kitchen where she could hear Hope’s happy babbles. “So... why did you come over here so early? Don’t you have school?”

“Not until later. I wanted to try and say I’m sorry for making everypony mad yesterday, but now I've just made everything worse! I wasn’t trying to, but whenever something exciting or dangerous happens, I just get all... rrrrrgh!” he growled, flailing his limbs wildly. “You know?”

“So, you feel threatened by Quakehoof, is that it?”

“Well, yeah! Why wouldn’t I? He’s like... ten times my size! And yesterday, he was keeping me from apologizing to Scootaloo! That’s important!” Grace glanced over at the doorway where Scootaloo was peaking through, no doubt listening in.

“I accept your apology, Pipsqueak. Have you eaten? You may join us for breakfast, if you’d like.”

“Well... I wouldn’t want to be a bother...” Grace would have none of it, but before she even got a chance to reply, Scootaloo made her appearance, her mane combed to one side, still slightly damp, and a faint blush still visible in her cheeks.

“If... you promise not to stare, I guess I could let you eat with us.”

“Promise not to... stare?”

“Yes, stare, like what you’re doing right now!” she barked, shooting a pleading look at her mother who simply shrugged. “Uh, what’re you doing, Pipsqueak?”

“I’m covering my eyes so they stop looking at you! It’s not my fault. I’m a pirate; I’m always looking for pretty things!”

“Mom, make him stop!”

“Stop being perceptive?” Grace chortled, lacking anything resembling sympathy for her tomcolt daughter’s feminine charm being acknowledged. “Come, Pipsqueak. You may uncover your eyes, and if my daughter takes issue with your appreciation of her beauty, she may cover her own.” Scootaloo did just that, though Pipsqueak still whispered an apology as they made their way into the kitchen. Quakehoof came out a few moments later, and Scootaloo raised a hoof, hesitated, then messed her hair up before trotting after them. Grace eyed Scootaloo’s tousled mane with a hint of disappointment before shrugging it off starting in on preparing breakfast.

“Seeing how syrup is so popular, I suppose I should make some pancakes.”

Pancakes? Pipsqueak couldn’t remember the last time he had tasted them. While hospital food kept him going, it did set the bar very high taste wise, and he found himself enraptured by the thought. Pancakes are like... the candy of breakfast! Fluffy and golden... Like treasure! Although, most treasure isn’t fluffy... Wait, don’t they make chocolate coins? Hmmm...

“Pipsqueak, are you ok?” Scootaloo asked, elated that he wasn’t staring at her but finding it odd that he viewed the far wall with such interest.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m fine, thank you.” And off he went again, deep into thought while Scootaloo pondered the colt’s transformation with dejection.

What the hay happened to him? I mean... one day, he’s, like, the coolest pony ever, swinging around a sword and coming up with all sorts of crazy ideas, and now he’s acting like... like... a gentlecolt! This is terrible! Somepony corrupted him or something... Wait, I’ll bet it was mom! But she was home yesterday... “Pipsqueak, did somepony brainwash you?” Having already been thinking of digging up a chest of shimmering flapjacks, the statement aroused his fanciful nature, much to Scootaloo’s delight and Grace’s amusement.

“Nay, lass, what gave ye such a crazy idea?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that you were using manners and stuff earlier?”

“Tis strategy, me hearty!” he declared, shooting Scootaloo a wink. “Even a salty sea dog can be proper every now and again!”

“Well, I like ‘Captain Pipsqueak’ a whole lot better.”

Really? That’s not normal. Is Scootaloo one of those “oddballs” that doesn’t like manners? I mean, I guess that’s ok, since I have a hard time with it... “Scootaloo, are you an oddball?” Grace discretely choked on her water while Scootaloo tried to figure out a proper response, though she found quickly there wasn't one.

“What the hay is that supposed to mean?”

“I dunno, I thought most fillies like manners!”

“I’m not a... ok, I am a filly, but I like adventure! Not boring, well-behaved... stuff.”

“But, what about your da...”

“Enough about my dancing!” she shouted, standing up on her chair. “It was a dare, I don’t do it often, and I certainly don’t like anything girly!” Her resolve on this matter faltered a bit as Pipsqueak lowered his gaze, looking almost hurt. Why does he look like that? Was it something I said?

“I really liked your dancing...” Oh well, at least she likes adventure. And maybe I can convince her to dance some more later? Probably not... I better not press it, she seems to get agitated about it.

He likes... my dancing? But... but that doesn’t make any sense! He’s a pirate, for crying out loud! His imagination borders into hallucination territory! So why in Equestria would he... like that? Scootaloo pushed the thoughts from her mind as he spoke up, bringing a smile to her face once more.

“Adventure, ye say? Well, ye came to the right Captain! Henceforth, you’re officially part o’ me crew!”

“Aye aye, Captain! What’s first on the list?” Grace expertly slid a plate to each of them, piled high with pancakes cooked to perfection.

“Vittles!”

“What? That’s not adventure,” Scootaloo replied skeptically.

“Ye’ve got a lot t’ learn, missy. Every pirate buries his treasure where it’s sure to be safe, and this gold is sittin’ in plain sight! Help me hide it, on the double!” he declared, lathering the steaming pile of bready goodness with a liberal layer of syrup before passing the bottle to Scootaloo.

He even turns eating a meal into an adventure? Yes, I so love this colt! I mean, like, or... never mind. Eager for something to distract her, she made eye contact and donned a challenging grin, wondering if there was any stock in his high ranking title. “I’d make a wager with my captain.”

“Name yer stakes, lass. This brigand never turns down a challenge.”

“If I bury my treasure first, you have to lend me your sword for a day.” His eyes narrowed as he fell into the zone.

“Ye name a high price, but I’ll accept those terms. If I win, ye get t’ dance a merry jig for me.”

“Oh, it is so on! Mom, do a countdown!” Scootaloo cried, her eyes shining with the fires of competition.

“Very well. In light of the presence of our guest, I shall allow you to breach good table etiquette this once. Are you both ready?”

“Aye!” they cried in unison.

“All right then. Hope will help me judge,” she explained, setting the foal down on the table. “Three... two... one...” She waited a few moments extra, two pairs of young eyes locked in the heat of a challenge and waiting her word. “Go!” Pipsqueak thought for sure he had the upper hoof, but Scootaloo was holding her own, proving to him just how unladylike she could be.

Oh ho, she be a fiery one! This is awesome! Doubling his efforts, he caught back up and they started in on the second half. Scootaloo’s focus was broken as Pipsqueak forgot the challenge and cried out in alarm. “Foul play! Foul play, I say! Somepony’s stealin’ me treasure!” Hope gave him a syrup smeared smile and took another large bite, chewing happily as her cheeks puffed out.

“Foul play? She’s helping you out!”

“Helping? She’s stealing all me treasure! Grab the munitions, all hooves to starboard cannons!” Pipsqueak cried, grabbing the bottle of syrup and squirting the offending foal. “I stunned the beast! Finish it off, deckhand Scootaloo!” he exclaimed, tossing the bottle over to Scootaloo who caught it deftly and sprayed Hope with another burst of syrup. No longer interested in the “treasure” due to the wealth of sugary sweetness smattered all over her coat, she let loose a string of babbles and squeals of delight, flopping onto her back and finding her hoof a much more satisfying pacifier than normal.

“How’s that for a first timer?” Scootaloo smirked, sliding the bottle back over and folding her hooves across her chest.

“Not bad, but yer fergettin’ something, lass.”

“Oh, and what’s that, Captain?”

“Yer treasure still be glintin’ in the sunlight.” They both stared at each other a moment before bursting into laughter, temporarily returning to reality. I never thought it was possible, but I was totally wrong! She can be a lady and a pirate. Best... friend... ever! She’ll make first mate in no time at this rate! I feel a little bad for Rumble, though...

“What’s all the noise about?” Quakehoof’s inquiry was met with uneasy silence as he walked slowly into the kitchen, prepared to give the colt a chance should he behave himself. Unfortunately, he cut an imposing figure, and Scootaloo’s encouragement galvanized the young hero into overdrive.

“Foe detected! All cannons, fire at will! Give it everything you’ve got! Scootaloo, get down!” Scootaloo dove for cover as Pipsqueak slammed both hooves down hard, emptying half of the bottle in a single massive gooey burst. Quakehoof’s eyes slowly opened and locked the colt in a deadly glare, syrup running down from his mane and muzzle, dribbling down his forelegs. Uh oh... that didn’t work!

“Gimme that!” Scootaloo demanded, breaking the chain of command and shoving Pipsqueak out of the way. “I’ll show you how a filly fights... take that! And that!” she cried, stomping down again and again. It was all good fun until they ran out of syrup, and as the bottle gave a wheeze, Scootaloo took a moment to quail as she realized what she had done. “Uh... Pipsqueak? I think we may...”

“We’re all out of gunpowder! All hooves, abandon ship! Evasive maneuvers!” Grabbing Scootaloo by the hoof, the two tore past a very livid Quakehoof, leaving one breathless Flying Grace to clean up their mess while Hope reveled in the tasty aftermath, munching on half-eaten pancakes and helping herself to all the syrup a foal could hope for.

I really need to get an alarm clock. Sweetie Belle groaned and pulled a pillow over her head, hoping to muffle her father’s booming voice from further disturbing the fragile serenity and comfort offered by her rather luxurious bed. Which would be better, I wonder? Waking up to somepony shouting my name, or a dull, off key, blaring electronic noise?

“Sweetie Belle, it’s time to get up!”

Electronic noise. “Ok, I’m up, dad!” she shouted back, coughing a few times and removing the pillow, taking her first glance around the room in bleary eyes. If I had to wake up to somepony calling my name, at least if could Spike or something like that. At least that would give me a reason to drag myself out of this warm, soft, inviting...

“Sweetie Belle?”

“Ah! Spike?” she yelped, sitting bolt upright as she found the dragon himself standing in her doorway, his eyes roaming anywhere but where hers sat fixed on him. “What... what are... how did...”

“I, uh... spent the night yesterday, remember?” he offered, fiddling with his claws. Why am I so nervous? It’s just her room.

Why is he blushing? This is just my room...

Oh man, she’s blushing! I wonder what she thinks I’m thinking? It’s not anything bad!

No, stop it, cheeks! There’s no reason to blush right now! “Spike, stop blushing, you’re...”

“...not kissing!”

“I was going to say something like ‘making me nervous,’ but now I know exactly what’s going on in your brain,” she teased with feigned annoyance.

“I wasn’t thinking about doing anything like that, Sweetie Belle! What kind of a guy do you take me for?”

“The blushing romantic who wants a kiss.”

“Oh, right, like you weren’t blushing at all either.”

“You started it!”

“And here I had you figured for the mature one...”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Anyways, I just came to tell you breakfast was ready. Be down when you’re done blushing and stuff.”

“Spike? Get back here!” Sweetie Belle called out, though her only response was the latch of a closing door. Flopping onto her back, she let out a low growl and stared up at the canvas over her bed. I can’t believe this. Almost kiss a colt one day and suddenly it’s all he can think about! And he has the nerve to tell me I’m the immature one? A smile came to her face as she rolled off the bed, let out a yawn and made her way towards the bathroom to get ready for the day. I feel a lot more awake, now. I guess waking up to his voice really is the best option. Seeing his cute little face isn’t so bad, either... Unlike her friends, she had come to terms with her feelings, and thus let the thought dance through her mind, humming as climbed into the shower and let the last remnants of drowsiness wash away.

Grateful that her mane required little by way of upkeep, due mostly to her curls being natural, Sweetie Belle dried off, gave it a quick combing and descended to find Spike and her father laughing like long time friends. It was actually the first night he had spent over there, but the more time they spent together, the easier it would be when it was time for him to ask the big question.

“Look at that, hunny. Sweetie Belle wakes up much easier to her friends, just like I told you,” Magnum called out with a grin.

“Maybe that’s because he doesn’t have a yell like a foghorn,” Sweetie snapped back, sitting down next to Spike.

“Now, Sweetie, show your father some respect,” Garden Wishes chided, smiling as she stacked some crepes on a plate and served her daughter. “You know your father just wants the best for our little diva.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m gonna be famous someday, I know.”

“That’s a great thing, Sweetie Belle.” Spike watched the exchange with curiosity, wondering why exactly Sweetie Belle was responding so nonchalantly to such praise.

It always makes me feel really great when Twilight tells me I’ve done a good job, so why is Sweetie so aloof? It was a side of Sweetie he hadn’t seen before, and being without parents himself, he felt her behavior was slightly uncalled for. At the same time, he could tell by the way she was idly picking at her food that something was bothering her, and he was determined to help her out, regardless of what it is. He waited until Magnum was distracted talking to her mother before leaning over and grabbing her attention. “Psst!”

“What is it, Spike?”

“Is everything ok? You seem a little... I don’t know, tense or something.”

“Well, duh! We’re having breakfast with my parents, and I haven’t told them, you know... about us. I don’t think they’re ready to know.”

“Why not? It’s not like we’re actually doing anything about it.”

“Clearly, you don’t know my father. It’d be a problem with any colt, much less a... um...” Sweetie Belle sighed as Spike turned his eyes back to his plate, tracing paths through the syrup with his fork. “Spike, it’s not something I mind, you know that!” she insisted, glancing across to her parents who were seemingly oblivious to their hushed conversation.

“Yeah, I guess...” It’s not my fault I was born with scales. I don’t even like being a dragon! I mean, sure, I guess it’s kind of cool to be able to help Twilight send messages, but receiving them sure isn’t that great, and I’d gladly trade these claws for hooves... Speaking of hooves, what the hay is brushing my leg? It was exactly what it felt like, and Spike let his frustrations slip out with a sigh, meeting her apologetic gaze with a rueful smile and pressing his foot every so gently against her hind hoof.

“So, Sweetie Belle, how’re things with your friends?”

“Oh, um...” she started, yanking her hoof away and hoping to Celestia she wasn’t blushing. “They’re good. In fact, I made two new friends yesterday, and I think they’ll definitely liven things up.”

“Got your eye on any colts?” Wishes interjected, smiling pleasantly. “You could likely have anypony you wanted, you know. You’re sure to have a great career in singing, so don’t go getting any childish ideas like you have to stick with somepony in such a small town.”

“And don’t go thinking that just because we give you a lot of freedom you can go looking for one, either,” Magnum continued. “I’d want to meet anypony who thinks he’s good enough for my little star before he goes and gets his hopes up. I have yet to hear of any colts that fit the bill.”

“And what if I wanted to stick with somepony from this ‘small town,’ huh?” Sweetie Belle fired back, a frustrated defensiveness for Spike’s validity betraying her and tainting her voice. She cringed as her father adopted a frown and she mentally kicked herself for revealing too much, too soon.

“Then I would expect to meet this colt very soon. Understood?

“But I...”

“Understood?” His gaze was unwavering as he met Sweetie Belle’s glare before she caved, slumping back in her chair.

“Ugh... yes, dad.” The rest of breakfast was awkwardly quiet, and Spike wished had hadn’t eaten first if only so he’d have something to do.

Yikes, I never knew Sweetie Belle had such problems with her parents. No wonder she was so hesitant to speak to anypony about liking me. I bet Rarity is the only one who knows. Sweetie Belle finished quickly, ushering Spike outside where she set a brisk pace towards Scootaloo’s house. It was painfully obvious she was upset over the turn things had taken, and Spike unwitting poked a balloon filled to bursting. “You know, we promised to talk about our problems so they don’t build too much. If you need an ear, I’m here.”

“It’s ridiculous!” she shouted, going from sullen to full blown filly rage without warning. “They tell me about how proud they are that I’ll make something of myself, that I’m so responsible and I have all these freedoms, and then they slap a lid on it by telling me what I have to do with my life! Ever since I got my Cutie Mark, it has been singing this, famous that! Well, what about what I want, Spike? Huh? Does that matter? I like this town! The ponies are nice, I have great friends, and my parents treat it like it doesn’t mean anything at all!” She sat down hard, the weight of pent up frustration robbing her of strength.

“I never wanted to be famous... That was always Rarity’s thing! How can they say I have freedom if... they’re deciding my path for me? They’re even saving a ton of money to hire some renowned vocal trainer to give me lessons. And now they’re even trying to tell me I can’t... be with anypony in Ponyville?” Spike reached around to give her a hug, but she stayed his hoof, holding it back. “Don’t, Spike. If somepony saw and it got around to my parents...”

But I can’t just sit here and do nothing! A small puff of smoke escaped from his nostrils as frustration with his inability to assist mounted. Sweetie Belle was trapped in a spacious cage, and he was on the outside. This is no time to sit here and feel sorry for myself. “So... how long until your parents demand to meet me?”

“Two weeks at most... But it’s just gonna make it worse putting it off...” To her surprise, his features bent into a twisted grin as a slow, gut-wrenching laughter toppled the mighty dragon, sending him to the dust. “Spike... why?” she asked, heaving a sigh and wondering what he could possibly find to be funny.

“Oh, you gotta listen to this...” His devilish grin soon spread to Sweetie Belle, who couldn’t help but share a few mischievous chuckles at some poor pony’s expense.

“Spike, that’s genius! I mean, it won’t fix the problems, but it will at least give us some time. How’d you even think of something like that? I’m really impressed.”

“As long as it takes, remember?” Sweetie Belle’s laughter trailed off as she looked into eyes that burned with determination. “I’ll do whatever I can to make the wait easier. Sure, I’ll probably mess it up worse in a few days, but hey, I can try, right?” Magic wasn’t exactly Sweetie Belle’s forte, but Spike found himself bodily levitated alongside of her as she dashed through town, offering no explanation as she found the closest thing there was to a back alley, took a second glance to make sure there were no prying eyes, and wrapped Spike in a massive hug.

“So tell me ‘bout yerself, Rumble. Ah’m right curious to know about how you turned out so nice. You obviously don’t ‘ave any crazy older siblings threatenin’ dismemberment t’ any filly that crosses yer path,” Applebloom said with a giggle, looking out over the orchard from atop the roof of the barn, her hind legs dangling over the edge. Excitement over having patched things up with her newest friend, a stomach full of Apple family cooking, all wrapped within a picturesque setting combined to ease the filly’s mind and calm her heart. Rumble shared her soft laughter, sitting beside her and looking out over the farmland.

“Well, no, my brother Thunderlane seems a good deal calmer than your sister sounds,” he began with a chuckle, nervous though it was. “My parents are never really around much, so a lot of my learning comes from Thunderlane and his fillyfriends.”

“You mean fillyfriend, right?” Applebloom corrected cheerfully, though she grew skeptical as Rumble shook his head.

“Nope, I said fillyfriends on purpose.”

“Yer tellin’ me he’s datin’ around? Now, that just don’t make sense,” she murmured, shaking her head. “Ah don’t see how somepony like that can teach another pony t’ be kind an’ proper if he can’t make up ‘is mind.”

“It’s not like that, Applebloom.” Rumble managed to keep from sounding angry, but Applebloom could tell by his downcast eyes that she had prodded something sensitive. “My brother catches a lot of heat for his lifestyle, and I don’t expect you to understand it, but don’t you dare speak against him. He loves both his fillyfriends equally, and they’re happy together. He’s never so much as winked at another mare the two years he’s been with them, and they’ve... they’ve worked through a lot to stay together. They love each other... can’t that be enough?” Rumble had unintentionally raised his voice as he concluded, and it was the closest Applebloom had heard to him shouting.

If it’s this scary, just hearin’ him get a little loud, then how did it feel when ah was hollerin’ this mornin’? Ah gotta keep mahself in check. Ah don’t wanna do that again... “Ah’m sorry, Rumble, ah wasn’t meanin’ to sound like ah didn’t like ‘im. It ain’t how ah was raised t’ think, so it just seems funny is all. Ah’m sure yer brother is real nice.”

“It’s ok... I just get really worked up about it. I hate the way ponies will make fun of him when they don’t even take the time to see what he’s really like.”

“When ya say it that way, it makes me want t’ grab mah mallet an’ knock some sense into anypony who would say otherwise.”

“Really?”

“Really!”

“Serious?”

“O’ course!”

“But that’s...”

“What, am ah speakin’ fancy again?” Applebloom exclaimed, grinning widely. “Look, stickin’ up fer yer family is right by me, an’ anypony who could teach somepony t’ be so sweet, gentle, kind, an’... uh... ah mean...”

“I dunno about the gentle part... I did kind of break your fort.” Applebloom didn’t know if he was just choosing to ignore her blunder to give her time to recover, or if he really didn’t notice in the first place, but either way she was grateful for it, like everything else about Rumble. His cheeks adopted a faint pink tone as she graced him with a radiant smile, and his breath was again taken by the beauty of the filly seated beside him, her mane fluttering gently in the autumn breeze.

All right, this is gettin’ right romantic, an’ ah can’t ‘ave that. It’s too darn effective, an’ ah might just let somethin’ slip ah ain’t ready t’ think about just yet. What were we talkin’ about again? Oh, ah remember. “Yer right, what was ah thinkin’? Ah’m surprised this barn is still standin’!” she exclaimed, leaping to her hooves only to falter, flailing madly for a split second before careening over the edge. Rumble didn’t even have to think, he simply lunged forward, spread his wings, and caught the filly as she fell, flipping onto his back just in time to cushion her from the blow. Applebloom lay dazed for a moment, the expected pain not coming before she cracked open an eye, blinked a few times as the dust settle, then realized that the sensation to landing wasn’t like running into a wall, but rather being tossed into a soft, downy pillow.

“What ‘n... wait, Rumble? Goodness, are you ok?” she exclaimed, pulling back and helping him upright as he held up a hoof, coughing as he tried to coax the air back into his lungs. “Ah... ah got you hurt again...”

“Uh uh!” he wheezed, a pained grin spreading ear to ear. “Rule number... one: when a... filly is in trouble, you help them.”

“More o’ Thunderlane’s wisdom?”

“Uh huh! Ooph! Easy, Applebloom,” he managed as he yet again found filly hooves around his neck.

“Hold up there, you two. Settle down.” Just as suddenly as they had come, Applebloom’s hooves yanked away at the sound of her sister’s voice. She opened her mouth to speak when Applejack raised a hoof, her eyes brushing past Applebloom and on to Rumble, who, while visibly nervous, maintained eye contact and even covered his mouth when he coughed. “Am ah right that you’re Rumble?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Tyke’s got manners, just like she said. “Rumble, ah don’t like the idea much o’ any colt bein’ near mah sister...” He dropped his gaze, bowing his head and temporarily breaching etiquette by finishing the sentence.

“...and I broke the rules about keeping my hooves off, so now we can’t see each other, right?”

“Goodness, ah ain’t out t’ get you, Rumble. Ah saw you catch Applebloom when she fell.” Hope returned as he met Applejack’s gaze once more, and the mare sat down in front of him with a rueful grin. “Ah ain’t sayin’ that ah’m not worried, but you sure are givin’ me plenty o’ reason not to. Respect goes a long way in this family, an’ after seein’ that you’d put yerself on the line after only a single day, well, ah can’t think of a better friend fer mah sister.” She allowed them a few moments of celebration before raising a hoof. “All right now, just settle down. Rumble, this ain’t me givin’ you a free pass. Ah’d like fer you t’ come t’ dinner an’ meet the family in a couple o’ days.”

“Sis, ah thought you were gonna test ‘im, not scar ‘im fer life! Can’t we do somethin’ less painful?” Applebloom pleaded, to no avail.

“Those are my conditions. Until then, ah’d like it if you two kept yer distance. Now, ah know it ain’t what y’all wanted t’ hear,” she explained, raising a hoof as Applebloom opened her mouth to protest, “but that’s ‘ow it needs t’ be. Anythin’ t’ add, Rumble?”

“No, Miss Applejack. If that’s what needs to happen, I’ll try my best to follow the rules. You’re right, though. It’s not what I wanted to hear. I really like being with Applebloom.”

He means every word. Ain’t even a shred o’ concealment or half-truths. “Since you answered honestly, an’ well at that, ah suppose ah can allow you two t’ hang out together before dinner. On two conditions!” she exclaimed, quieting their jubilant outburst. “Ah wanna know when you hang out, an’ where yer goin’ t’ be. That fair?” Agreement was unanimous, and Applejack watched them dash off towards the school house, shaking her head as Big Macintosh trotted up beside her. “Ya hear that, brother? It’s time t’ set up a little gauntlet fer that colt.”

“Nnnope.”

“Oh, come on, you’re no fun,” she teased, chuckling as they turned back towards the house. “Lemme guess, we’ll be bad enough without the help?”

“Somepony stole mah teeth!” Applejack and Big Mac both stared at each other for a moment as Granny Smith woke the rest.

“Go ahead an’ say it, brother. She just answered my question, didn’t she?”

“Eeyup.”

Hooves, Snouts, and Scootaloo's Wings

Chapter 6: Hooves, Snouts, and Scootaloo’s Wings

Sometimes, laughter just isn’t appropriate, and sometimes, one just can’t help it, and sometimes... well, sometimes it’s just too worth it to try and fight it. Flying Grace wasn’t intentionally trying to spurn her syrup-drenched special somepony with her fit of derision, but she couldn’t deny that it had been one of the most hilariously heartwarming scenes she had witnessed in some time, and for her appreciation where Quakehoof had none, she contented herself to indulge his patience for a few moments longer. So great was her surprise at hearing not a growl, but a soft, deep chuckle that she ceased her own cachinnation to ascertain if this was a “you’re right, it was funny” laugh or “hahaha, that colt is so dead” snicker.

“Pardon me, dear, but are you alright?” Grace asked gently, trotting over with a wet washcloth and starting to clean the gooey mess away.

“Indeed. I will admit I am torn between savoring my daughter’s smile or teaching that colt a thing or two about respect with the underside of my hoof,” Quakehoof replied, shaking his head slowly. “You seem quite calm, and I know it isn’t just because of your sense of humor. What’s going on, Grace?”

“Dear, do you really think I would just let any colt just wander over and try to win Scootaloo’s heart?” Quakehoof chanced a smile at the rhetorical question, holding his silence as Grace finished cleaning his face and tilted his chin up with a gentle hoof so she could clean his chest. “I am not attempting to be nearly as controlling as how this would appear to Scootaloo, but if a little protection saves her from further heartbreak, then I will bear her future outburst with what grace I can. The truth, Quakehoof, is that Gale did a bit of spying yesterday, and says that all it took was a day to see the colt was of sound heart.” She went on to explain the colt’s living situation and everything else Gale had gleaned from his short time monitoring the colt. Quakehoof was by no means unreasonable, and Grace breathed a sigh of relief and gratitude as the last of any lingering hostilities drained away.

“It seems that being devious is paramount to being a noble mare. Any particular reason I wasn’t informed of this earlier?”

“Oh, and ruin this morning's fun?” she chuckled, cleaning the last of the mess from her stallion’s foreleg and rewarding his good behavior with a tender kiss while Hope blew raspberries of approval from the table. Grace willingly melted into Quakehoof’s gentle embrace, though as she locked her hooves around his mane, she found quickly she had missed a few spots. “Pity Rainbow Dash and Storm aren’t back to watch Hope. There are far more appealing ways of being cleaned than a washcloth...”

“Mom, I’m home~!”

“Oh, now that’s fortuitous indeed,” Grace tittered, pulling away and sending Quakehoof to get the water warmed up while she welcomed Storm and Rainbow Dash. “Welcome home, Storm. Now, judging by that lopsided grin, I’d assume that you both had a rather enjoyable evening yesterday, but I highly doubt it could have topped Scootaloo’s.”

“Oh yeah?” Rainbow Dash instantly replied with a competitive grin. “Let’s see, we bathed in a giant bowl of ranch dressing, had dinner with Discord, watched Rarity and Twilight dance on the table after having one drink too many, and, oh yeah, Whisper finally spoke.” Grace allowed her daughter-in-law a few fleeting seconds of victory before wiping the smug expression from her face with a slight fabrication that neither of them saw coming.

“That sounds lovely, Rainbow Dash. Scootaloo found a coltfriend.”

“She what?!?” they both cried in unison. “Come on, mom, there’s no way I can compete with that!” Dash continued, shooting a worried glance at Storm who was quite a bit more shaken by the statement than herself. “Wait, no, you have to be lying or something. There’s... there’s just no way!”

“Well, they aren’t official just yet, but... well, I’d give it a few months at the most, if you two are any barometer.”

“No!” Storm said emphatically, pounding a hoof. “Mom, come on! She’s only eleven! You can’t honestly say you approve, do you?”

“Storm, I see no reason to place an age restriction on finding somepony who will always be there for my daughter. However,” she followed, raising a hoof to stave off further protest, “I also do not approve of anywhere close to the level of... physical interaction that you and Rainbow Dash shared when you were dating. Besides, she has yet to accept it herself, and is quite... excitable about the subject.” Storm’s expression shifted from hesitant to nonplussed, slowly moving towards immature glee as he caught his mother’s hidden meaning.

That smile... “Mother... I would almost think that you’d like us to give her grief about it.”

“The more she is forced to confront her desires for male companionship, the more appealing acting as a lady will become. They left just a little bit ago, and if I had to guess, they probably haven’t made it to school, being somewhat... distractible, but you didn’t hear it from me.”

“Storm, did your mom just give us both free license to torment your little sister?” Dash asked, her grin slowly growing before even receiving an answer.

“Yes... yes, I believe she did.”

“I am so there!” Dash exclaimed, her brilliant magenta eyes shining with the fires of mischief. “Oh ho ho, this is gonna be great. Come on, Storm, let’s go pay them a visit!” A squeal from the kitchen bid Grace return, though as she trotted over to give Hope a much needed cleaning, she couldn’t decide which she would rather have: a shower with Quakehoof, or a front row seat to whatever would unfold between her children.

After an appropriately frantic mad scramble away from the Gatekeeper and his hooves that would likely be a one-shot k.o. to both Pipsqueak and herself, Scootaloo called a rest so that she could have herself a proper laugh, during which she eschewed any semblance of grace by giving herself a dust bath. Pipsqueak, while he was every bit as amused with the morning’s escapades, found his mirth tinged with the strangest inkling of something else he couldn’t quite describe, but it seemed to grow in direct proportion to the amount of time he spent with Scootaloo. He had heard the phrase “fire in yer belly,” but he always thought that was more in reference to chugging grog, not simply beholding a wannabe tom colt in all her split personality glory. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the other night when she was dancing in the skies though, so he said nothing and resumed his usual mode of conduct.

“Ye got a lot o’ nerve, but if ye hadn’t stepped in, I fear this captain may have ended up looking very much like our vittles. Thanks ye fer the assistance.”

“Always ready to help the captain!” Scootaloo replied enthusiastically, scrambling to her hooves and throwing him and easy salute. “So, does this mean I get a promotion?”

“Ye be gettin’ a wee bit ahead o’ yerself, lass,” Pipsqueak laughed, breaking into a grin. “Still, ye did help me take on a fell beast, so aye, no longer shall I call ye ‘deckswab.’ From now on, ye’ll be the ‘deckhoof,’ an’ that’s a fair step up. Means ye don’t ‘ave t’ shine me boots!” His hearty laughter was cut off as Scootaloo expertly severed the cord tying together his bravado with reality.

“Do you even have boots?” Pipsqueak was stricken, and Scootaloo cringed at the genuine horror stamped on his muzzle.

“I... I don’t have...” He sat down hard, blown away by the revelation. “It’s all over, mate! Just toss me overboard, I ain’t fit t’ be Captain no more! What kind o’ imposter calls ‘imself Captain without a proper pair o’ boots? I’m... I’m a sham! A cad! A rotten, two-faced blackguard with a soul o’ coal! No wonder mah crew is only two ponies strong...” With one last dramatic growl of disgust, Pipsqueak promptly faceplanted and continued his rant.

“Yeesh, take it easy, captain!” There was a temporary lull in the muffled exclamations of a defaced pirate, and Pipsqueak fell silent for a moment while Scootaloo said her piece. “Do you really think the eye patch and sword is what makes a captain?”

“...Ys?”

“Well, it isn’t! I don’t follow you around ‘cause you dress funny. I hang out with you ‘cause you’re fun, and you turn even the most boring stuff into an adventure! I mean, burying treasure? It’s brilliant! You weren’t dressed this morning, but you still managed to be awesome!” Scootaloo asserted, plopping down beside the colt and giving him and encouraging shove. Pipsqueak pried his face up, now covered in dirt, gave Scootaloo an uncomfortably scrutinizing glance, before sullenly continuing his foray into the field of pedology and returning his muzzle to the comforting indifference of the soil.

“Hmph. Stl dn hv muh bts.”

“Sheesh, what’s it take, huh?” Scootaloo exclaimed, exasperated with her captain’s unprecedented bout of stubborn self-pity. “They’re just boots, and...”

“Jst bts?!? Wt y meen, jst bts? Bts r...”

“Pip, I can’t understand a word you’re...”

“Just boots?!?” he started again, yanking his head from its earthen pillow and scrambling upright. “How can ye say ‘just boots,’ lass? Every captain since the beginning o’ ferever has always had ‘imself a good pair o’ boots! Ye can tickle me ears all ye like, but it don’t change a thing! I must have looked like a dang fool, traipsin’ around, wavin’ my sword in the air...”

I... think he’s actually upset? It’s hard to tell, but he sure doesn’t look happy. “Are ye finished?” Scootaloo wasn’t sure if it was her tone of voice that caught him off guard, or her first attempt at pirate speak, but either way he regarded her with wide eyes as she continued. “Fergive this lowly deckhoof fer speakin’ out o’ turn, Captain, but ye’re actin’ like a whiny lass o’ the worst kind. Ye don’t ‘ave a pair o’ boots? Then adventure some up! That’s what ye do, isn’t it? Look fer treasure? Well, if boots make the pirate, then I wager it’s my job t’ help rustle up a pair fer the good captain.”

“Ye’d...” She’d still call me captain, after me cabin fever got the best o’ me? Without a pair o’ boots or a blade t’ me name? That’s... so... so sweet, I think I’m...

...is he crying? What the... Scootaloo may as well have just asked him to marry her then and there, so moving was the gesture, and even the salty sea dog couldn’t help but gingerly take the hoof of the sweetest lass he ever did see and offer his thanks with misty eyes. Scootaloo flushed deep crimson the instant hoof contact was made, and in that moment she felt that terrible, wonderful sensation in her chest that had first popped up the night before.

“Ye do me a great honor, Scootaloo. I could sail every sea, an’ ye’d still be the sweetest lass o’ all Equestria. Thank ye.” I hope she knows I mean it. Did I get that right, Gale?

Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh! He’s holding my hoof! He’s totally holding my hoof! But... he... so soon? No! Stop it! That’s not what he’s doing! Well, yes it is, but it’s not that! Right? It isn’t, right? We are not having a ‘moment!’ Come on, snap out of it, Scootaloo! She slowly dropped her gaze to her hoof, which despite her numerous pleas to return to its rightful place flat on the ground, remained comfortably in Pipsqueak’s own which she couldn’t help but notice was ever so slightly warm. And gentle. And awesome.

“Uh, are you ok?” Her face isn’t normally that red, is it? Am I doing something wrong here? His eyes followed hers down to his hoof, and suddenly, the captain realized that he may have been a tad too forward in his thanks. Belay that order, port side hoof! Return t’... well, t’ port, you wayward... hoof? Scootaloo, yer makin’ mah innards catch fire!

Ok? Ok?!? How could I possibly be ok? I’m holding hooves in broad daylight! And I’m liking it! No, no I’m not, it’s not true! Just yank it away and tell him to never, ever do it again! “Y-yeah, I’m, um... fine. Thank you.” ...what the hay just happened. Thank you?!? Oh, come on! This isn’t right! Somepony, anypony, help! I’m being wooed by the captain!

Desperate for an out, Scootaloo slowly and with great effort spread her wings, but that seemed to be the limit of her abilities as she swallowed hard, her eyes slowly lifting from her hoof to meet those of the colt that was rendering her hopelessly head over hooves girly. It was horribly tantalizing and aberrantly enjoyable. All mental commands to initiate flight were disrupted by the palpitations of a heart unprepared for roguish chivalry, and thus it was that somepony else had to step in and save the two. Sadly, that pony was Storm. He was not pleased with the proceedings, nor the condition of his dear little sister’s wings, and thus adopted an appropriately menacing growl and landed with great force directly behind Pipsqueak with Rainbow Dash landing a short distance away to watch and, if necessary, save Pipsqueak’s life.

“Hooves... off.”

“Ahoy, who be... orderin’, uh... the captain?” Pipsqueak began, his confidence slowly petering out as he turned and beheld a stallion dark as the night and nearly as large as the Gatekeeper. Uh oh, he looks really mad. What in Equestria did I do this time? Should I just apologize, or... shoot, he’s coming at me! Scootaloo was still too stunned to speak, her hoof still held aloft even though it was no longer being cradled, and it only made Storm even more suspicious that something had happened. A single step forward, and Gale’s advice went out the window.

“Random encounter! Scootaloo, form battle ranks!” Pipsqueak cried, leaping backwards to give himself some space and again cursing fate for throwing him in such a situation without a proper means to defend himself. “Scootaloo, get back! He’s... Scootaloo?” Wait a minute... could it be... I’ve learned Charm? This fight will be a cinch! Let’s try things the easy way first with a bit o’ smooth talkin’! What was the word for that again? Dip... Dipll... Something. “Ye look like a reasonable lad. What say we settle our differences over a pint, eh?”

“Oh, trust me... The fact you’re still alive is enough to prove I’m being reasonable,” Storm growled. “Dash, could you make sure she’s breathing and, if possible, put her wings away?”

“Sure thing,” she replied quickly, trotting over to tend to the filly who was just starting to regain her composure.

“Now then... what’d you do to my little sister, huh? And don’t even try to tell me it was nothing. I saw her wings clear as day.”

I swear, all anypony ever does is accuse me of this, that, and the other thing! That’s it, I’m done with this diplomancy or whatever! If he wants a fight, then fine! “Ye don’t ‘ave yer facts straight, an’ I don’t care t’ give ‘em to ye! You’ll ‘ave t’ fight me for ‘em, so prepare yourself, Storm. Let’s have at ye, blackguard!” Storm moved from protective to confounded as the colt appeared to very seriously be preparing for a fight, one hoof scoring the ground while the rest of him tensed to lunge.

Is this colt for real? Does he really think he has a chance? Oh well, saves me the trouble, I guess. “Ok then, Pipsqueak. Come on, hit me with your best shot!”

Diplomania canceled. Initiating newly acquired skill: Charm. Activate max swagger. Charging... complete! Storm raise an eyebrow as the colt suddenly lost his battle sneer and replaced it with the most disconcerting leer he’d ever seen, made more disturbing by virtue of the fact that it appeared genuine, and it wasn’t pointed at Scootaloo.

He’s not attacking. He’s standing. He’s standing, staring, and... he’s walking over. No, wait, that’s not walking, that’s... sauntering? What the hay am I looking at here? Storm tensed, expecting a surprise attack, but what he received was far worse. With the allure of a rogue, the voice of a lark, and a smile sure to knock anypony’s socks clean off, Pipsqueak wrapped Storm’s hoof in his own just like he had Scootaloo’s, flashed his pearly whites, and ruined Storm’s day.

“My, what soft fur you have! In all me days, I ain’t come across hair so fine as yers, lass.”

“...did he just say that?” Rainbow Dush murmured. Scootaloo could only nod, watching in absolute bafflement as Pipsqueak attempted to use his dreaded powers of woo for evil.

“Goodness, where’re me manners? Speakin’ o’ yer coat when ye ‘ave such beautiful shinin’ gems twinklin’ down at me. Ye do this humble soul too grand a service fer me t’ ever repay, allowin’ me the pleasure o’ beholdin’ yer radiance. Indeed, yer much too lofty a prize fer this colt t’ ever obtain, but if I may, allow me t’ keep ye on me pedestal. Would ye, lass?”

What... the... buck... Storm couldn’t conjure any other thought nor phrase, so he repeated the mantra over and over while Pipsqueak’s voice mercifully faded out. Mental walls to protect his sanity were raised in short order, and the dreaded words became a dull murmur as Storm retreated inwards. Pipsqueak let his hoof drop and slowly took a step back to survey the damage.

Deactivating swagger. Commence offensive measures. Special Move #2: Pirate Tackle! Scootaloo watched in awe as a single bodily blow toppled the giant, and as Storm lay in a daze on the ground, her hero took his place atop the beast, savoring his victory.

“Scootaloo, that colt is crazy. You sure that’s what you want?” Rainbow Dash asked, grinning down at the filly who couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away.

“Uh huh?” Scootaloo murmured, spacing a few seconds more before shaking her head vigorously as Dash broke the spell entirely.

“Awesome. Sweet catch, Scootaloo.”

Sweet catch? Awesome? Pipsqueak, you just got the Rainbow Dash stamp of approval! Yes! Wait, why would I need approval? It’s not like we’re... Darn it! “What was the question? No, I didn’t say that! It’s not what you think!” Such words swayed not a mind, and as Rainbow Dash tended to her disgruntled husband, Scootaloo nervously glanced over at her captain, standing tall with an adorably oafish grin plastered on his muzzle. It’s hopeless. I’m so done... It could be worse, I guess. What if one of my friends had seen... that?

“I have a friend~

and she’s a filly...”

“Oh, please no...” Scootaloo begged, cringing as Sweetie Belle’s voice came out crystal clear and drawing closer. Occasionally, Sweetie Belle would use her vocal talents for purposes so nefarious, Discord himself would disapprove. Encouraged by the approving laughter of a dragon who was the calm in her storm and slightly jealous of Scootaloo’s percieved freedom in being able to choose whoever she wanted as a coltfriend, Sweetie Belle let the words flow and put them to melody, closing her eyes as she sauntered closer, wondering how many shades of red Scootaloo could turn in a day.

“‘Do you like a colt?’

I asked one sunny day.

‘I’ll never by mushy!’

Is all that you could say~

Now what’s this I see?

your cheeks are burning red

and though it makes me blush

I watched as your wings spread

Why, oh why~

would you lie to me?

You’re head over hooves,

it’s plain for all to see!”

“Sweetie Belle, please...” Scootaloo begged, receiving a relieving smile from the songstress as she drew close and gave Scootaloo a reassuring hug. Scootaloo nodded her thanks to a beaming Sweetie Belle before she burst back into song for the finale.

“Why do you hide it all inside?

Just let your love run free~

Pipsqueak, don’t let her go

together you should be~

you’ll never meet somepony quite like her

the one you gave her first wing b...”

Her chorus was abruptly cut off with a mouthful of dragon claw, and as she peered up at Spike with curious eyes, he discretely whispered into her ear what exactly she was about to sing. As she glanced around at the shocked expressions she was receiving, her gratitude towards Spike grew yet a little more to match the pink flushing her cheeks.

Yikes. I knew I got carried away while singing sometimes, but that was just bad. “Thank you, Spike,” she murmured before scuffing the ground awkwardly as she offered everypony an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that. I was a little... caught in the moment.”

“A... a little?!?” Scootaloo shrieked, hiding behind Rainbow Dash and not daring to look at Pipsqueak.

“Ok, maybe little more than... a little...”

“Sweetie Belle, if Spike hadn’t stopped you, I don’t think it would have been just Scootaloo that was upset,” Dash stated, struggling to keep a straight face. The fact was she’d have been breathless laughing had Sweetie Belle finished her impromptu song, but judging by Storm’s less than amused expression, she knew it was in everypony’s best interest if she maintain her self-control. “Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, you’re going to be way late to school if you stick around. Pipsqueak, you, uh... just... run.”

“A fine idea, lass! Train well, deckhoof! I’m off to find me some boots!” Without a further thought to the matter, the young colt was off on yet another adventure, seemingly unfazed and curious as to why everypony had gotten upset. Scootaloo took Rainbow Dash’s advice and retreated towards the relative safety of the stronghold for higher learning, along with a bashful Sweetie Belle and a still chuckling dragon who didn’t fully comprehend the gravity of the situation.

“Oh, come on. They were only holding hooves,” Rainbow Dash soothed, wrapping her hooves around Storm in an affectionate embrace. “It didn’t really take much more than that for you when we first met, you know.”

“You just had to bring that up,” Storm muttered, begrudgingly letting his exasperation go. “You do realize that this means war, right? Scootaloo just won the first battle, but there’s no way she’s winning the war.”

“You’re assuming that I haven’t already started planning,” Dash countered with a wicked grin, eyes shining with a devious light. “That little colt has guts, but he toppled my stallion. There’s no way he and Scootaloo are just going to be let off the hook. Those two are so in for it!” Rainbow Dash was about to take to the skies when she paused, her husband adopting a sensuous leer that piqued her curiosity, though what came out was even better than the most sappy, sentimental drivel he could have conjured. She wasn’t in the mood for that anyway, and testament to their bond, he gave the perfect response for her current state of mind.

“You know, I think you’re hottest when you’re plotting to ruin somepony’s day. It just... gets me every time. Now then...” he continued, growing serious. “Let’s plan a little fun for my little sister...”

Elsewhere in Ponyville, removed from the hijinks and frustration of friendship, siblings, imagination, and other such intrusive factors, Applebloom was finding that all it took to brighten her day was a little Rumble. Romantic inklings aside, she simply found his friendship to be enjoyable, and he was as well-spoken as he was easy to talk to. Sure, he hadn’t seen her at her worst, yelling at every inanimate object that dared invoke her wrath, and honestly, she hoped he never would, but Applebloom was content to simply enjoy the morning walk to school, confident that whatever tests her sister came up with, contrived or not, her new standard for perfection would clear them all with ease.

“So, if ya don’t mind me askin’, how’d yer brother end up with, ya know... two mares?” Applebloom asked after their conversation hit a lull. It was a sensitive subject she knew, but she was dying to know how anypony could handle keeping two mares, and sisters at that, both happy. “Ah’d think they’d both get jealous o’ the other an’ fight a lot.”

“That was year one,” Rumble replied evenly, unfazed. Actually, he was rather grateful that she was not only taking an interest in his own life, but tackling a touchy subject without a shred of condescension or disapproval. “I mentioned that they had to work through a lot, and I wasn’t kidding. It seemed like every day almost that one of the two was upset about something, and that was before either of them were officially dating. Thunderlane didn’t really make a whole lot of friends, nabbing the interest of two highly desired mares, and with our parents gone, I kind of became his confidant, if that makes sense.”

“Ah guess, aside from tryin’ t’ date two mares at the same time. Ah just don’t get it, Rumble. Ah ain’t tryin’ t’ be mean, but ‘ow come he kept tryin’ when things were goin’ so poorly?”

“Why do you think?” Applebloom slowed to a stop, causing Rumble to do the same as he watched the filly carefully.

Ah know ah’m bein’ tested, an’ as calm as he appears, ah know this is important. Mah first guess would be indecision, but nopony could be that bad or go through as much as Rumble says he has just ‘cause he can’t make up his mind... “Uh... love?” Well, that was ‘bout the weakest response ever. Maybe ah shoulda said...

“Uh huh!”

“Wait, ah was right?”

“Uh huh.”

“So that means ah pass, right?”

“Pass?”

“Yer test.” Rumble blinked, his head dipping slightly lower as he stared blankly. “Wasn’t that a test t’ see if ah was... somethin’?”

“Uh uh.”

“Did ah break yer vocabulary when ah whacked ya?”

“Uh...huh?”

“Musta done more damage than ah thought...”

“Uh...”

“Now stop that!”

“...nuh uh!” Rumble countered, leading her on and taking a few steps backwards. Applebloom was fully prepared for a chase, one she was determined to win, but sadly, Rumble just couldn’t catch a break. As Applebloom broke into a gallop, Rumble promptly spun one hundred eighty degrees, pushed off hard and made it maybe a hoof length before slamming face first into a nearby cart. “Uh...”

“Ok, now you got plenty o’ reason t’ speak like a neanderpony,” Applebloom murmured sympathetically, plopping down beside the colt and helping ease him into a sitting position while he nursed his smarting muzzle. “Please tell me it ain’t just ‘cause yer around me that ya keep gettin’ hurt. You were like this before, right?”

“Uh huh... Gosh, that smarts,” he muttered, rubbing his snout. “Although, I think it’s gotten worse ever since I started hanging out with Pipsqueak. That colt comes up with all sorts of crazy, and I always walk away with a few ‘battle scars’ as he likes to call them. Still,” he paused shooting her a wink, “seems I’ve found somepony to top the captain in pain-issuing activities.”

“Just ‘cause ah don’t ‘ave mah mallet don’t mean ya get a free pass,” Applebloom chuckled, waving a warning hoof in front of his face. “Are ya gonna be ok? Can ya walk?” Rumble gratefully accepted her offered hoof and rose shakily to his feet, swaying a little as not just his snout, but his entire head began to throb. He really didn’t feel like letting on just how miserable he was feeling, so he simply decided to deviate from their course a little.

“Come on, I’ll show you my house quick, then you can get to school. How’s that sound?”

“Sure, ah’d love to!” Playful banter resumed until they arrived at a house much like any other in Ponyville, it’s only distinctive feature being that it was Rumble’s house, and not some other pony. “So this is it, huh? Strange, ah don’t see any holes...”

“Har har,” Rumble replied, feigning indifference.

“Hey, look at that. Yer learnin’ new words already. Maybe you should run into more carts.”

“And maybe a certain filly shouldn’t break my vocabulary further,” he shot back, all smiles. Applebloom allowed him a win, bowing her head and looking adorably sheepish. “Listen, you may want to just, you know... leave now,” Rumble urged, appearing visibly nervous. “If Cloudchaser and Flitter are here, they might...”

“Oh, now just stop it,” Applebloom interjected, her confidence on full display. “Ah guarantee that whatever is behind that door ain’t nothin’ compared t’ mah family. Besides, they all sound real nice, an’ ah’m just dyin’ t’ meet yer brother.”

“You’re sure?”

“Uh huh! Or should ah use smaller words?”

“Ok, you asked for it,” Rumble chuckled, closing his eyes and easing open the door. Two mare’s voices blasted out in unison as the colt was swept inside and used as a stand-in beach ball.

“Rumble’s home~!” Flitter cheered, catching the colt as Cloudchaser tossed him inside and squeezing him tight before handing him off to her sister as she rushed back inside, twirling a few times before collapsing on the couch in a fit of giggles, leaving a rather shocked and slightly jealous Applebloom standing in the doorway entirely ignored.

“So, how come our favorite little colt didn’t come home last night, huh? Were you spending the night with your special somepony?” Cloudchaser teased, sitting upright with a start as the colt flopped onto his back on the couch, waiting for the room to stop spinning.

“Oh my goodness!” Flitter exclaimed, rushing over and gathering the colt into her hooves. “What happened to your poor little face? And dear goodness, your sweet little head got all banged up! Oh, my poor, poor Rumble!”

Ok, mah emotions are a tangled mess right now. Those are ‘is brother’s fillyfriends, but they got their hooves all over Rumble an’ ah know there ain’t anythin’ to it but it sure makes me wish ah had mah mallet. Why am ah gettin’ so worked up? Is it always like this over here? Applebloom could rationalize a little tender affection, but she drew the line when Flitter kissed the lump to make it all better. “Hey! Get yer hooves offa him! He’s mine, ya hear?”

“Rumble, is this true?” Cloudchaser inquired, peering back at Applebloom who was currently giving her tongue a dressing down for speaking out of turn.

“Uh huh! Cloudchaser, Flitter, this is Applebloom.”

“Uh... what ah meant t’ say was, uh...” Now where’d that mess come from, huh? It’s bad enough that boat won’t listen t’ orders, but now mah own tongue is against me? How am ah supposed to fight that, huh? Let’s start with somethin’ simple, like “It’s a pleasure to meet ya both.” “...howdy?” For being so dainty, Flitter sure could close the distance fast, and Applebloom soon found herself held aloft like a filly would treasure a brand new doll.

“Goodness, you’re just as cute as Rumble! Just look at that bow... Oh, and your accent is just too adorable! Right, sis? Am I right?”

“I suppose we may be able to let her be with Rumble,” Cloudchaser replied with a grin, trotting over and scrutinizing the filly at hoof’s length. “Hmmm, earth pony, huh? Interesting Cutie Mark...”

“...ah’d thank ya kindly t’ not stare at mah flanks, miss,” Applebloom said unsteadily, everything happening so fast that even her dauntless spirit was somewhat shaken. “Rumble, little ‘elp here?”

“Uh...”

“Don’t you dare.” Rumble gave her a cheeky grin and promptly remained silent, stubbornly folding his hooves across his chest. “Oh, come on now, really? Rumble, tell ‘em t’ put me down.”

“Flitter, I think she wants a hug.”

“Now hold... oof! Goodness, mah lungs...” Applebloom gasped as she was passed to Flitter and given an unexpectedly tight embrace. “Ok, ah’m sorry ah broke yer vocabulary! Just make ‘em put me down!”

“Uh huh! Come on, you two. You heard her.”

“Awwww...” was the mutual response, though they complied and set the filly down. Applebloom took a moment or two to simply enjoy the freedom of being able to breath before looking up to find Rumble with an apologetic smile.

“I warned you...”

“An’ trust me, ah’m gonna listen next time. Flitter is stronger than she looks,” Applebloom remarked, peering over the mare who simply gave her a cheery wave before going back to her enthusiastic conversation with Cloudchaser that was whispered just loud enough they could hear, but too soft for either Rumble or Applebloom to make out the words. “Ah’m gonna be late if ah don’t head out, but is it ok if ah come back again soon? Ah still need t’ meet yer brother, an’ next time, ah’ll come prepared fer those two.”

“So long as you leave your mallet at the farm, sure!”

“Spoilin’ mah only chance at survival...” Applebloom muttered, brightening as Rumble accompanied her to the door. “Thanks fer havin’ me over an’ introducin’ me t’ yer family, Rumble. Ah’ll ‘ave a talk with Applejack and see if we can’t get you over for dinner sooner rather than later.”

“Oooh! Dinner~!” both mares cried in unison.

“Goodness, am ah gonna ‘ave to invite them too?”

“Hey, that could be fun!” Rumble exclaimed, immediately latching on to the idea. Applebloom covered her face with a hoof, heaving a sigh and peeking back out at Rumble.

“Dear Celestia, what ‘ave ah done...” Applebloom muttered with a sigh.

“Better set places for three more.”

“It’s gonna be dinner with Discord all over again...”

“What was that?”

“Nothin’!” she quickly covered, content to never again relive such memories. Besides, if it’s with Rumble, then there’s no way it’ll be that bad. Who knows, maybe Applejack will get more than she bargained for an’ leave me an’ Rumble alone after her plan backfires! Ah can hope, anyways... “All right then, ah’ll ‘ave a talk with Applejack. See ya later, Rumble.” Rumble bid her goodbye, waving as she adopted a gallop to make up for lost time. He slowly close the door, stared blankly at the wood for a moment, before turning back to his expectant audience and addressing them with a somber tone.

“I stayed up till Luna knows when fixing her fort, was unceremoniously given a mallet nap, have fallen from a barn, and run face first into a cart. Please excuse me while I pass out until it’s time for school. Also? Yes, she’s cute. Thank you.” Nodding his thanks to both mares for maintaining their silence, they watched as the colt stumbled into his room and closed the door.

“Mallet... nap?” Flitter pondered aloud, wincing as a muffled groan echoed from the other room as Rumble yelled a short dirge into his pillow. Cloudchaser gave a nervous chuckle and slung a comforting hoof around her sister, who had just realized the phrase meant exactly what it sounded like, comprehension kicking after Rumble had allowed himself to show just for a moment just how bad he was feeling. “Cloudchaser, how much do you think colt sized armor would cost?” Nervous chuckles became unabashed laughter as Cloudchaser wandered into the kitchen to get some ice for Rumble while a frantic Flitter pressed her point. “Hey, where are you going, sis? I’m serious! He’s not even going to have a face left by the end of the week! Sis? Are you listening? Cloudchaser~!”

“So, let me see if I got this right...” Spike started, looking first at Sweetie Belle and then back at Scootaloo as they waited for Applebloom outside the school. “Pipsqueak came over to your house, won your mother’s approval, blasted your dad with syrup, had a mental breakdown because he didn’t have boots, and got all mushy on you... all in the space of an hour?”

“Yeah, how awesome is that? It was the best morning in, like, forever!” Scootaloo exclaimed, flying a few circles before landing again and prancing back.

“And you’re sure you don’t, you know... ‘like’ him?”

“Ewww, gross, Spike! What gave you that idea?” Scootaloo shot back, recoiling in disgust.

“Nothin’. No reason,” he replied evenly, sharing a knowing grin with Sweetie Belle.

“Listen, just because I think Pipsqueak is a ton of fun to hang out with and he’s the only pony I’ve met that can pull off being totally crazy, cool, and sweet at the same time doesn’t mean that I’m going to start wearing dresses for him, or doing my mane, or writing down the cute things he says in a journal, or... or anything!”

“Do you even hear yourself right now? We didn’t even mention any of those things.” Sweetie Belle’s assertion came as quite the shocker to Scootaloo, who had been hearing such things before they arrived and was confident that somepony had to have said something at some point to put them in her head. After all, it was a preposterous notion that she, the coolest filly in town, was head over hooves for anypony... right?

“Wait, but you didn’t... are you sure?”

“Positive. Look at that, Spike. Scootaloo’s already a step ahead of us.”

“What? No, that can’t be right!” the orange filly cried, horrified that she was actually being compared to the mushiest of her friends and even more worried that there might be some substance to the claims.

“You’re right, Scootaloo. Sweetie Belle, she hasn’t even admitted it yet,” Spike interjected, offering the pegasus a temporary reprieve.

“Not explicitly, no. Or maybe too explicitly, if this morning was any indication,” Sweetie laughed, grinning as Scootaloo stomped her hooves and growled.

“For the last time, I was going to fly! Nothing else! And it most certainly wasn’t a...”

“Howdy, y’all!” Applebloom called out, interrupting their argument nicely and trotting over, grateful for a chance to catch her breath as she slowed to a stop. “So, anypony else have a...” she started before the bell that signaled the start of class rang out across the yard. “Awww, now ah ‘ave t’ wait until recess t’ talk?”

“Bye, Spike. See you after class, maybe?” Sweetie said hopefully as the other two started towards class.

“We’ll see. It depends on if Twilight has stuff she needs help with today, and actually,” he paused, appearing deep in thought, “I have a little research to do myself. I’ll try to meet up with you at some point today, though.” Sweetie Belle resisted the urge to part with a hug, but Spike nodded his understanding as he met the filly’s longing gaze with his own.

“Blech, come on, you two,” Scootaloo urged, having stopped to watch. Sweetie Belle gave Scootaloo an evil grin and whispered something as she trotted past, piquing Applebloom’s curiosity over what would cause Scootaloo to turn such a brilliant shade of red. “Would you drop it? Sheesh! You’re obsessed, Sweetie Belle. Everything’s romantic to you.”

“I dunno, holding hooves is pretty romantic.”

“Wait, Scootaloo was doin’ what now?” Applebloom exclaimed, shocked. Ah thought fer sure ah was gonna end up bein’ the first. “Woohoo, thanks, Scootaloo! Ah feel a lot better now!” Ceasing hostilities long enough to wonder what had gotten into Applebloom as she all but danced into the school house, they took their seats as Cheerilee set down her chalk and prepared to start the day.

“Well, good morning, class! Anypony have anything exciting happen to them this morning?” Three filly hooves shot up in unison before the rest, and the three friends shared mutual looks of mirth and confusion combined. At least, until they were called on.

“Well, since you don’t normally volunteer, let’s start with you, Scootaloo...”

“Why, if it isn’t my favorite little dragon!” Rarity remarked cheerfully as Spike let himself into the boutique. She was already entrenched in filling her orders, but she made eye contact long enough to flash him a smile before returning to her sewing. “Come in, make yourself at home. I hope it’s alright that I keep working. You would not believe how much work I’ve let pile up...”

“No, I believe it,” Spike reassured her, chuckling a little as he all but waded through spools of thread, bolts of fabric, and other miscellaneous items pertinent to the eminent seamstress of Ponyville. Pulling up a spare chair, he stood atop it and watched her work, and Rarity noted with a mix of relief and amusement that he honestly seemed interested in her work rather than her face.

“It seems that you truly have moved on,” she commented as she reoriented the fabric to begin a new stitch. “I don’t know if I ever told you, Spike, but your constant, eh... infatuation was actually a great source of encouragement to me. But it would be dreadfully selfish if I were to keep such a thing for myself if I was unable to return the sentiment, would it not?” She paused, not having meant for the conversation to so quickly delve into serious matters, and turned to Spike with a grateful smile. “However, I couldn’t be happier that it is to be my little sister that receives such unfailing devotion. Do treat her like a lady, would you?”

“Huh, I wish your parents thought the same way,” Spike muttered with a snort, crossing his arms. “As it is, we’re going to have to break some poor colt’s heart just to throw them off our trail...”

“Spike, dear, you’re not making any sense. What are you talking about?”

“Oh, you know, nothing serious,” he replied dismissively, his voice laden with sarcasm. “Just the fact that your parents are convinced that nopony good enough for Sweetie Belle exists within Ponyville because she’s set to be the next Sapphire Shores and any colt that thinks otherwise is delusional. Clearly, she needs a suave, smooth-talking, two-timing, no-good mare-beater from somewhere snappy like Manehatten, because being happy just isn’t the life of a star, right?” Hey, I’ve seen that eye twitch. That means... Oh, dear Celestia...

“Please tell me you aren’t serious.” It wasn’t a question, nor a request, but a rhetorical statement that deemed any response other than “yes, it was a terribly out of place and inappropriate joke” worthy of the full fury of a livid mare. Spike, however, was all too eager to hear somepony share his frustrations aloud and with much more eloquence than he could ever hope to muster.

“You didn’t know?” Spike replied, his wry grin almost smug as he anticipated the outburst that was to come. “Let’s see if I can remember what they said this morning... Oh, right, something like ‘don’t go getting any silly ideas in your head that you’ll be with somepony here.’ Me and Sweetie Belle can’t hardly even be seen together. She let slip that she may be interested in somepony, and now they’re demanding to see him. I came up with the idea of introducing somepony sure to fail their test, like...” Spike began before being partially deafened by a howl of indignation.

“They said what?!? Why wasn’t I informed of this earlier? The very nerve, trying to control who Sweetie Belle is allowed to like. Uncouth, barbaric... unacceptable!” Each word was punctuated by her hoof slamming upon the table, the reverberations resounding throughout the boutique like thunder. “Old fashioned I may be, but if there is one thing that a mare should be free to choose, it’s her romantic interest, and I daresay nothing better than you, Spike, could be found even should they search all of Equestria!”

“Wow, tha...”

“Not now, Spike. Rarity is ranting,” she said sweetly, giving a dainty cough before returning to her fiery oration. “I cannot believe they never learned their lesson from raising me... Did you know they once tried to determine my career after I earned my Cutie Mark?”

“Oh, right, they’re trying to control that, too.” Spike took malicious satisfaction in the way each new piece of information seemed to flush the mare’s cheeks with crimson, not because of the blatant consternation it was causing Rarity, but because he was just as wroth as she. He just... couldn’t match her dramatic intensity.

“Are they?” Rarity growled, narrowing her eyes. “In what way, exactly?”

“Well, I heard they’re saving a ton of money to blow on some really expensive vocal trainer. Sweetie Belle loves singing, but she sounded anything but happy about it.”

“And why would she be?” Rarity raged, knocking her chair over as she leapt to her hooves. “After all the trouble I went through earning the right to choose my own path and pursue fame on my own terms... It’s simply... rrrrrgh!” Spike had never seen anypony but Twilight burst into flames, but if it was, in fact, something pertaining more to being a unicorn than being a magical bookworm, then Spike was pretty sure Rarity was reaching combustion status, and he instinctively took cover behind the desk.

“Sweetie Belle, how could you not tell me of this? I thought we were sisters! She’s in for an earful on keeping secrets this afternoon. Oooh, those parents of ours... Spike! Come here this instant!”

Geez, what have I gotten myself into? I was just hoping to blow off some steam, but Rarity is taking it way further than that! There was a moment of silence as Spike slowly popped his head up over the desk and peered across at a mare who, before he fell for Sweetie Belle, would have held him captive in her frightful allure, but no more. Now she was a terrifying ally in his march to win Sweetie Belle’s heart, and fear quickly turned to giddy anticipation as he jogged over and stood to attention before the mare. “What do you need, Rarity? Anything you ask, I’m ready!”

“Ready? Oh, but you misunderstand, Spike,” she cooed in a disturbingly sweet tone. Spike wasn’t the bravest, he knew, but he wasn’t a coward either, though regardless, Rarity’s words still sent a tingle down his spines. “Tell me, do you think I’m a capable mare?”

“Uh... yeah? No doubt, but...”

“I think it’s time my parents got a little lesson themselves. I do not need you to do anything, save come with me and make sure I don’t tear them to pieces.” Offering an argument, cautioning the mare and calling for rationality, or anything pertaining to logic or deterring Rarity from her set course was effectively pointless, and thus, as she swept out the door, Spike prepared himself for seeing Rarity in her prime and bolted after her, making no effort to stave off the laughter boiling up from within.

I don’t know what’s gonna happen, but if it works out better for you, Sweetie Belle, then I'm all for it. Waiting is hard enough; you don’t need to be miserable, too. Quieting as determination solidified like concrete, Spike dashed after Rarity, his jaw set and his mind calm. After all, nopony could stand up to a mare whose will was as hard as the diamonds upon her flanks.

Ripped Pants, Apple Pie, and a Broken Spoon

Chapter 7: Ripped Pants, Apple Pie, and a Broken Spoon

“Well, would you look at that! Hey, Wishes, come into the living room! Rarity’s come for a visit!” Magnum called out, entirely unaware of the proverbial axe poised over his head. Poised with all the dignity an outraged mare of class could conjure, Rarity strode over to the couch where her father was loafing, as per usual, and attempted to garner the simple stallion’s attention with a warning glare. “Are you feeling alright? Dear, take a look. I think she must be feeling ill,” Magnum quipped, oblivious to the storm brewing under the surface. Rarity’s mother didn’t help matters in the slightest by trotting over and cupping the mare’s cheek in a hoof.

“Oh dear, how long have you been ill? Have you been to the doctor? Oh, hello there, Spike! Do come in!” Garden Wishes called out. Spike, however, couldn’t believe the self-control Rarity was putting out, but as he saw the eye twitch begin, he shut the door and exerted his willpower to keep himself from instantly hiding under the table.

“Spike, dear, you may wish to cover your ears...” At Rarity’s “suggestion,” he did exactly that, and for good measure, closed his eyes. What he heard was clear as day, as he was confident it was for the rest of Ponyville. “There are no words fit for my vocabulary with which to adequately describe the deep level of excrement you both have dug yourselves into, but Celestia help me, I will find a way!”

“See? I told you she wasn’t feeling well,” Magnum chuckled, patting a spot on the couch next to him. “C’mon, Rarity, come off your high horse and sit with your pa.”

“It seems I did not succeed in capturing your attention,” Rarity muttered, her volume level restrained to a deathly hush and making Spike fear incontinence would soon be a very real problem.

“Capturing my...”

“If I hear one more word out of either of you before I’ve said my piece, I will personally guarantee your swift eviction, humiliation, and ruination in every conceivable manner! And take off that dreadful straw hat! It makes you look like a hobo and it pains my eyes!” she howled, not waiting for a response and yanking it from her father’s head via magic, only to unleash a single fraction of her frustration as she promptly stomped it into the ground and tore it to pieces. Magnum opened his mouth to protest when he found himself face to face with the very incarnation of feminine wrath.

“What part of ‘one more word’ did I not make abundantly clear, father? Do you wish to join your hat, hmmm?” His jaw snapped shut, and Rarity slowly drew her head back, snorting. “Well, it’s certainly pleasant to see that some level of intelligence still remains; let us hope it is enough to save you. Now then, clear out your ears, because I do not wish to repeat myself. If I catch wind, rumor, message, signs in the stars, or any other method of communication contrived by pony or beast alike pertaining to you two placing any kind of restriction over who Sweetie Belle is or is not allowed to give her heart to, I assure you, there will... be... consequences!”

“Uh...”

“You are quite lucky, as I am a giving mare and shall not count such an uncouth, guttural noise as a word. Be thankful, and do not try my patience further, mother. I am far from through,” Rarity cautioned, her smooth, dulcet tones hiding the icy claws of terror in a satin blanket. Her eyes carried much the same chill, the calm, limpid pools of blue sending a shiver down one dragon’s spines as he found himself transfixed by a meaningful stare. “Spike, what are you doing under the table? That is no place for a gentlecolt,” she cooed, offering a hoof and almost sounding lucid. Swallowing hard and wishing he could have had the chance to empty his bladder beforehoof, Spike adhered to the beckoning hoof of the wroth goddess and gave a shudder as the hoof draped around his chest, squeezing just tightly enough to indicate that he likely shouldn’t move in the foreseeable future.

“Now then,” Rarity continued, her voice starting a normal level but growing in volume with each passing word. “While I am deeply opposed to the idea of needlessly getting my hooves dirty, I shall attempt to reach in further and dredge you both from the squalor in which you both seem to be residing, judging by the barbaric filth you both seem to be generously heaping on my dear sister’s head! If you would dare... try to control her life’s path as you did mine, so help me Celestia, I will personally see you both sent to the moon! One thousand years and a blast of magic did wonders for Luna’s attitude, and I shouldn’t wonder it could do the same to two ponies who can’t take a few moments to realize their neanderpony methods have no place, portion, or value in a society where a mare with talent can be free to find her own path!”

“We just wanted...” Garden Wishes started before being yanked into the air and levitated face to face with a livid mare who had made herself abundantly clear that she was not to be interrupted under any circumstance.

“You wanted! Exactly my point, you’re only thinking about yourselves! And you know what else, mother? I’ve had just about enough of those hideous relics of a bygone era you refer to as pants!” With a few deft movements, Rarity induced invertigo, flipped her mother upside down, yanked the offending garments off, and split them down the center, then down the legs, then down, well, everywhere else until Spike had some fabric confetti to play with. He stared at the white strips for a moment before risking punishment himself, coughing nervously and almost feeling sorry for the two.

“You never, ever interrupt a lady’s rant. Ever.”

“Quite right, Spikey-wikey,” Rarity quipped, patting him on the head. “See? I’m really not so hard to please.” Magnum and Garden Wishes both stared at their accessories, quite beyond repair, and then back at their daughter, speechless. Rarity paid this no head, her regal poise undeniable and her laudable intentions unalterable. “Now then... I think it’s abundantly clear that I am a reasonable mare... Mother, stop that infernal groaning, it is most unbecoming of a grown mare!” Rarity barked, culling her pantless mother into silence. “It’s really quite simple. You are to let Sweetie Belle pursue her own career and her own special somepony on her own terms. That’s really not so much to ask, is it?” Silence followed, and Rarity lamented her parents’ lacking intelligence with a sigh. “Generally, when a pony asks a question, it is rude not to answer. I don’t approve of rude. It makes me quite... flustered, shall we say? No, no, don’t worry,” she soothed, raising a hoof as they both opened their mouth to speak, “I shall defer this one to my assistant here. Spike, am I asking too much?”

“No, Miss Rarity... ma’am!” Spike replied instantaneously, standing to attention and hoping to Celestia he had answered properly.

“Oh, I hope my stallion is half as bright as you, Spike!” Rarity swooned, clapping her hooves and tittering before turning back to her parents, by now frightened witless and convinced their daughter had developed some kind of sociopathic disorder. “Now then, I recognize that Sweetie Belle is young, not quite ready to tackle all the facets of marehood, and thus you two should have some manner of influence. Thus, I am willing to compromise. Repeat after me: Sweetie Belle is free to be interested in whoever she chooses so long as she continues to pursue the continuance of her talents and adhere to standards befitting a proper mare.”

“But, what if...” Magnum started, clapping his hooves over his mouth as his daughter’s eyes narrowed, piercing into his soul before brightening, though it was on no account of him.

“What’s this I hear? Spike, correct me if I’m wrong, but that sounded nothing like what I said,” Rarity interjected, turning to Spike with a look of confusion stamped on her muzzle.

“No, you’re right, Rarity. That wasn’t even close.”

“I thought so. Let’s try this again. All together, now: Sweetie Bell is free...”

“S-Sweetie B-Belle...”

“Mother, father, I know for a fact that neither of you are known to have a stutter, so please, speak clearly. Again, from the beginning. ‘Sweetie Belle is free...’”

“Sweetie Belle is free!”

“Please, do keep your volume down! You could hurt somepony’s hearing, shouting like that,” Rarity chided them gently, trotting closer. “Still, that was very much better than your last attempt, so let’s try the whole thing. ‘Sweetie Belle is free to be interested in whoever she chooses so long as she continues to pursue the continuance of her talents and adhere to standards befitting a proper mare.’”

“Sweetie Belle is free to be interested in whoever she chooses so long as she continues to pursue the continuance of her talents and adhere to standards befitting a proper mare!”

“What did I just say about shouting? No wonder Sweetie Belle didn’t have any luck getting through to you two...” Rarity said, heaving a sigh. “Still, you have come to see reason, and for this, I am thankful. Mother, father, I do love you both ever so much,” Rarity murmured sweetly, leaning in and wrapping a hoof around each, pulling the stunned couple into a light embrace. “Spike, I am feeling much better. Thank you for your support. Run along, now.”

“Aren’t you coming?” Spike replied, bracing himself as Rarity wandered back over.

“Coming? Why, it’s almost tea time! And I have much, much more I’d like to speak with my dear mother and father about,” Rarity said with a chuckle, giving the hesitating dragon a reassuring wink.

Translation: I’m sparing your ears, mind, and possibly soul by sending you away before gaining my second wind and starting a brand new bonafide rage. “You got it. Rarity? Thank you.” Spike couldn’t help but smile a little as the mare swept him from the ground and into an affectionate embrace, but they both knew his heart was elsewhere, and Spike stepped out into the early autumn afternoon refreshed, spirited, and without the faintest hint of blush. He glanced back at the door, then to the skies, taking a deep draft of air and letting it out in a contented sigh. “Well, that went about as well as I could have hoped. I wonder if...”

“...and furthermore! If I so much as...” The murmur of the crowds going about their business hit a lull as nearly every head turned towards a house much like any other, and Spike chuckled nervously as one of his age old hypotheses was finally answered beyond a shadow of a doubt.

“Huh, look at that. You can explode twice!”

“Please excuse me, Crusaders, I’m off to the library. It seems I can’t find the right word to describe how totally horrible today was. Longest... day... ever!” Scootaloo exclaimed as soon as they were free from the seemingly dungeon-like confines of the schoolhouse. Humiliating was barely scratching the surface when describing the concentrated embarrassment at her overly enthusiastic recounting of the morning and all it contained before the class, garnering laughter both polite and otherwise while continuing her newest trend of sporting blush without the aid make up. Scootaloo thought for sure that her cheeks would never turn back to normal, though she did feel a little bit better in one regard; her friends chose to remain quiet after she stole the spotlight, and as she had found out during recess, they had good cause for keeping mum.

“Can ah come with you?” Applebloom replied, heaving a sigh. “I need t’ find a good word t’ describe ‘ow terrible ah feel ‘bout today. Ah mean, ah whacked mah newest friend with mah mallet, fer cryin’ out loud! Ah ain’t ever knocked a pony out until today... An’ what about Miss Cheerilee?” she continued, sitting down at one of the tables in the now deserted schoolyard, everypony else having fled to go find themselves something more fun than Equestrian history. “Ah dunno ‘bout y’all, but ah had the hardest time payin’ attention today...”

“No, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t just you, Applebloom,” Sweetie Belle assured her, heaving a wistful sigh. “I’m not even going to try and deny what I was thinking about... What about you two?”

“Awesome adventures with the captain, what else?” Scootaloo replied easily.

“Holdin’ hooves does that to a filly,” Applebloom chuckled, grinning at the expected half-lidded glare. “Ah’ll admit ah was thinkin’ ‘bout Rumble a lot, but ‘ow could ah not? You ain’t seen a bruise till ya see ‘is head...”

“Interesting. I was thinking about my parents, but since we’re on the topic of colts...”

“But you said...” Scootaloo started before Sweetie Belle’s snickers brought the exact words back to Scootaloo’s mind. “Applebloom, I think we’re gonna have to watch out for this one. She’s so drenched in lovey dovey mushy stuff that it’s leaking out. Be careful, you might end up kissing somepony if you get too close!” Applebloom shifted a little further away on the bench, meeting Sweetie Belle’s eye roll with mock horror before all three devolved into giggles. “She’s gonna infect you with love fever!”

“What’re you talking about, Scootaloo? Applebloom is the only pony who has to worry, since you’ve clearly already caught it,” Sweetie Belle quipped. “Actually, she probably already has it too, so don’t worry. You can’t infect the infected... right?”

“Well, it’s true you can’t turn a zombie into a... re-zombie?” Scootaloo offered, unsure of herself. “Geez, that’s a deep question, Sweetie Belle. I’m gonna have to check with the captain, but first, I need to head home,” she remarked, standing upright. “I think a good dose of boring lady stuff will work wonders to clear my mind.”

“Ah think she just said she’s gonna go try on her dresses fer Pipsqueak. Did ah hear that right?”

“No! That’s most definitely, never in a million years what I meant, Applebloom!” Scootaloo cried, railing against the scarily accurate assessment of her plans, leading her to wonder just how much longer her facade would hold water.

“Yeah, I think you hit the nail on the head, Applebloom,” Sweetie Belle said cheerfully, leaning across the table and high hoofing. Clearly, Scootaloo realized, the answer was not much longer, but she wasn’t about to go down without a fight. Or, in this case, be discovered in a dress, of all things.

“Wasn’t the only thing she hit in the head...” Scootaloo muttered, grinning slightly as Applebloom’s amiable countenance took a slight hit.

“Come on, Scootaloo, that ain’t fair.”

“It’s perfectly fair,” Scootaloo asserted, ending the ensuing argument before it began by adopting a regal countenance and trotting off with her head held high.

“It kind of is,” Sweetie Belle added in, leaving Applebloom feeling somewhat betrayed.

“Ah know that, but that don’t mean ah want t’ hear it. It’s not like ah’m proud of it...”

“Applebloom, Rumble saved you from falling from the barn after you whacked him. Either he’s ridiculously nice, or there’s something a little stronger than dedication there.”

“Careful, Sweetie Belle. We don’t make good matchmakers,” Applebloom shot back half-heartedly, her smile revealing her gratitude for the reassurance. “Ah’m gonna head back t’ the fort and try to whip up somethin’ t’ apologize to Rumble properly. He’s been a right gentlecolt, an’ it just don’t sit right leavin’ ‘im with only mah words to hold on to.”

“Going to offer him your hooves instead, huh?”

“...maybe,” Applebloom said slyly, adopting a ponderous expression. “Well, what about you? Gonna find another back alley to grab some alone time with yer special somepony?”

“...maybe.”

“Ain’t even tryin’ t’ hide it, are ya?” Applebloom asked rhetorically, standing upright. “Don’t be too loud, or somepony will hear the kissin’.” Sweetie Belle allowed herself a moment of contemplation on the wondrous occasion that was sure to be far off, though it did make her an easy target as Ruby walked over, the last pony to leave the schoolhouse. She said nothing at first, having something fairly serious on her mind, but if Sweetie Belle’s rosen cheeks were any indicator, Ruby had to guess she was thinking of Spike.

“Still the sweetest non-pony around, huh?” Sweetie Belle straightened up and blinked a few times, caught completely off guard. Admittance of having feelings hadn’t changed the fact that thinking of anything beyond walking side by side made Sweetie Belle slightly bashful, and while her banter with Applebloom had been light and playful, allowing her to respond easily, serious contemplation of a blissful first kiss left her slightly embarrassed and uncharacteristically soft spoken.

“Yeah... still sweet, still clueless,” she murmured, smiling shyly and thankful that Ruby wasn’t in one of her more teasing moods, responding cheerfully with a grin as she took a seat across from her friend.

“I’m sure he’d be flattered to hear it,” Ruby replied, laughing softly at her friend’s romance addled state. “Listen, I know you and the other two were distracted today, but did you notice how sad Silver Spoon looked?” Sweetie Belle dug deep, trying to sift through her myriad daydreams and fanciful romantic excursions, mostly involving lunch by a lake or other stereotypical dating scenarios, and while she didn’t remember anything about her mood specifically, there was one detail that stood out to her, something even she couldn’t ignore.

“Now that you mention it, she didn’t laugh at all when Diamond Tiara was mocking Scootaloo, and they didn’t hang out together at recess, either,” Sweetie Belle recalled, tilting her head to the side. “Why do you ask?”

“That’s just it... I don’t know, really. Normally, those two are inseparable, but today, Silver Spoon just... I don’t know,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I’d say I’m just reading too much into it, and maybe she was just tired or something, but I can’t shake this feeling that something is off. Do you think... maybe you could help me look around town for her?”

“Sure!” Ruby stared dumbly for a few moments before shaking her head and trying again, sure she had misheard.

“Really? Just like that? You do realize that I’m asking you for help with Silver Spoon, right?” the filly cautioned, knowing that the Sweetie Belle and the others, and basically everypony in class had been on the receiving end of generous helpings of humiliation from the Silver Spoon and Diamond Tiara on multiple occasions.

“The pony who, when paired with her other half, is about as pleasant as curdled milk? Yeah, I know,” Sweetie Belle replied with a grin. “If it’s important to you, then it’s important to me, and honestly, I could probably use a distraction to get my head out of the clouds for a while. Any idea where to start looking?”

“No idea. Feel like going for a stroll?” Having no other pressing concerns for the afternoon and knowing nothing of Spike’s availability, Sweetie Belle willingly agreed on spending a little time wandering around, and they meandered through town, making idle chatter and gossiping about this, that, and Scootaloo’s wings. After nearly half an hour of searching, they stumbled upon Diamond Tiara sitting by herself in Sugarcube corner, her foul temperament on full display. She didn’t even bother looking up from her milkshake as the two approached, and both Ruby and Sweetie Belle were more than slightly hesitant to disturb the raincloud lest it yield thunder.

“...what do you want?” Diamond snapped, staring disdainfully at the two fillies. “You had better have a good reason for bothering me and wasting my time.”

“And a very nice day to you too, Diamond Tiara,” Ruby said with a sigh. You know, I really enjoy helping other ponies, but you make me really want to... no, Ruby, come on. Don’t think like that, she’s clearly upset. Even jerks n... “not so nice ponies” need care too. “Is something bothering you? Maybe I can...”

“You can what, huh? What could you possibly have to offer me?” the filly who fancied herself a queen snapped back, adopting a condescending sneer.

A hoof to the face, a buck to the gut... perhaps a bath with that milkshake? Sweetie Belle was truly impressed with Ruby as she kept her calm and temporarily caused even Diamond Tiara pause with her gentle words. “Well, friendship, for starters. Maybe we could...”

“Friendship?” Diamond Tiara interjected, cutting off a well-meaning invitation with shrill, pointed laughter. “What makes you think I want your friendship? Next time I need my windows washed or some other menial task more suited for somepony of your class, I’ll let you know. Until then, go back to cleaning up your mother’s vomit.” Ruby had been patient, had tried to be understanding of the filly’s brutal onslaught, one she knew wasn’t derived from any particular loathing of her personally, but her last comment had crossed a line.

“What gives you the right to...” Sweetie Belle started, angrily taking a step forward before yielding to her friend’s restraining hoof. Sweetie’s eyes grew wide as Ruby experienced a complete personality shift, her scathing words causing a temporary lull in the clamor of the building as everypony turned and stared directly at Diamond Tiara.

"There's more worth in my mother's vomit than any word I've ever heard come out of your mouth, and love, while it's something you clearly undervalue, has more value than your father's wealth increased a hundredfold, you prissy, ungrateful snob." Her voice was cold, calm, and devastating, and Diamond Tiara had no comeback. “Clearly, it was stupid for me to try and be nice. Just tell us where we can find Silver Spoon, and we’ll gladly leave you alone.” There were a few seconds of painful silence while Diamond scrambled to save her image, before cutting her losses and caving to their more than reasonable request.

“...try the park.”

“Thank you kindly,” Ruby muttered, stalking out the door with Sweetie Belle in tow. A glance was all it took for Ruby to see she had shaken her friend, and with a sigh she attempted to salvage her image, though it was entirely unnecessary. “Sorry, Sweetie Belle. I kind of lost it back there.”

“Are you kidding? That was great!” Sweetie Belle chortled, rearing in excitement and flashing Ruby a supportive smile. “Couldn’t have said it better myself, and after all, she... kinda deserved it. I’m just a little shocked you delivered, is all.”

“I wasn’t joking when I said family is first. I’m used to hearing things being whispered around town, but from her? After trying to be nice?” Sweetie Belle offered a sheepish smile, slowly spreading it to Ruby who caved with an exasperated sigh. “Ok, ok, I’ll calm down.”

“Please do. You’re a lot more fun to be around when you don’t look like, well... this,” she said, distorting her face into as nasty a sneer as she could manage, sending Ruby into a fit of giggles. They veered to the right as the path diverged towards the park, and Sweetie Bell gave Ruby a wink as they continued on. “Let’s hope Silver Spoon is a little more receptive to your kindness - for everypony’s sake.”

Away from the prying eyes and ears of a few choice friends and safely sandwiched amongst a throng of ponies going about their afternoon business, Scootaloo found some measure of solace amongst the hustle and bustle of the Ponyville market. It was true she had spent a good majority of her time in class spacing, dispatching fictional foes and engaging in feats of daring do that the mare herself would deem laudably crazy, but for those other moments, the ones that led to a quiet, demure Scootaloo peering out at the skies, her mind had turned to somewhat more serious matters. Without Applebloom or Sweetie Belle around to point at any rosiness that may or may not arise, she let a small smile tickle the corners of her muzzle as thoughts of the captain came in not with a battle cry, but something else she was determined to understand and, should it be mushy, squelch.

“Heh, right...” she muttered, dropping her gaze to the ground and immediately bumping into somepony. Aside from a slightly reproving look, they said nothing and quickly melted into the crowd, and Scootaloo continued her journey after a stammered apology, keeping her eyes open but quickly receding deep into thought. I know I can be excitable, but I’ve never had this kind of trouble keeping focus. Is it really just that much fun hanging out with Pipsqueak? “What, am I crazy? Of course it is! Why would I even ask that? Huh, I must be losing it...” she chuckled, heaving a sigh as she discovered that the answer was slightly more elusive. I’ve had lots of fun times that I know I’ll never forget. Being taught to fly when Storm came back, getting to help with Rainbow Dash’s wedding... totally botching that play for school. Kinda wish I could forget that one...

The crowds thinned, but the filly didn’t even notice, her steps guided more by muscle memory than her sight. Ok, I don’t even want to think about this as a possibility, ‘cause it’s totally ridiculous that I’d have something as girly as liking somepony in my brain, but just so I can cover all my bases and deny any claims otherwise, let’s look at the facts. Let’s see... I can’t get him out of my head, but that doesn’t mean anything conclusively, nope. Pipsqueak is absolutely nuts, and I can’t seem to spend enough time around him, and the times I’m not I’m thinking about what we’ll do next when we are. But that’s just fun-having and planning stuff, so that can’t count, either. Then there are those times where he starts acting sweet, looking at me like I’m the only pony in the world... My heart starts beating really fast, and every word is like... like magic, or something! And the heat that floods my body, it’s like it’s almost too much, but I... kinda like it. Like being on fire without burning up! So, I guess that means, I’m... I’m...

“...I must be part phoenix! Yes, that’s so cool!” Stoked with her newfound birthright, she immediately broke into a gallop to head home and test the stovetop, but she soon tripped on nothing at all and tumbled in the dust, landing in a heap staring up at the sky after being blindsided with one more memory to tip the scales. A phoenix doesn’t even have hooves! My snout is rounded, with no sign of a beak, and what... what about when he held my hoof this morning? I felt... more than just fire... In fact, as she looked back, she realized that he had caused her myriad of emotions even beyond the one she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, identify. When he toppled my brother, I felt really proud of him... And when he stops and says “thank you,” it means... so much more... Does this mean I’m... I’m...

“Well, isn’t this a breeze o’ good fortune! What’re you lubbin’ around the land for, deckhoof?” A familiar, roguish, infuriatingly mood-brightening face appeared in Scootaloos vision, obscuring her view of the sky and sending her reeling in her current state.

I just spent the last who knows how long in deep thought trying to figure out what’s going on only to realize that I might sort of possibly have an unbearable inkling of semi-romantic feeling for somepony, only to have said pony suddenly show up when I’m unprepared and totally defenseless? Unfair, Lady Luck! C’mon, brain, think! Reply! Respond! Say something, darn it! Her eyes shifted frantically from face to frame, seeking an out. No bandana, no eye patch, no sword, just that stupid smile that’s awesome and soft, deep, earthy brown eyes... No, stoppit! What else, Scootaloo? Ah ha! Perfect! “How do you do?”

“...huh?” Well, that wasn’t what I was expecting at all? No, “hey, who are you callin’ a landlubber” or “ready and waiting for orders, captain?” Maybe she’s not feeling well? “Are ye ill, mate? Ye look a little...”

“Boots! No boots!” Scootaloo exclaimed, staring straight ahead and being blinded by the sun as Pipsqueak heaved a sigh and plopped down beside her.

“Ye can be a cruel lass at times, deckhoof,” he lamented with a lovelorn sigh. “Aye, this sorry excuse for a captain has yet t’ find himself a proper pair o’ boots, and it’s not for lack of searchin’, either. Sea t’ hill, forest an’ vale alike, I searched high an’ low after buryin’ my treasure, but the only thing ye can say I accomplished is weatherin’ my hooves and walkin’ away with an empty coffer.” To punctuate his point, his stomach gave a soft gurgle as he rubbed it with a rueful smile. Scootaloo took some time to recover a little during his oration, and slowly sat up, brushing dust from her wings and forcing eye contact, for to avert her gaze would be to admit defeat. “Don’t ye worry, deckhoof. Aye, I ain’t perfect, not by a long shot, but I’m always trainin’, and someday, I’ll prove me mettle to ye. Hopefully when I have a blasted pair o’ boots!” he concluded, pounding the ground lightly with a hoof and grinning.

“You, uh... you already kinda have, to me...” Bad Scootaloo! Don’t talk if it’s gonna come out mushy! “If you... if you want, I can help you look. You know, after school and stuff...”

“Well now, look at that. My little deckhoof thinks she can plan, eh? I’m a reasonable brigand, so we’ll give yer scheme a shot. Train well, deckhoof! Be prepared fer adventure when the cuckoo cries four!” Knowing he’d be late for school, a recurrent problem that seemed to nab him a yearly lecture from the Lunar Princess, Pipsqueak took off at into the crowds, dodging around ponies and sometimes diving under them, making even a simple trip something more. Scootaloo watched with a mixture of amusement, adoration, and bewilderment, continuing to stare long after he had disappeared.

“...’How do you do?’ Stupid! Ugh, I can’t wait to get home...” Hoisting herself upright, she started at a canter, slowly building speed until she was zipping through town at near scooter speeds, propelling herself with her wings and generally trying to pump enough adrenaline in her system to stave off further introspection. Elation at an afternoon spent doing something mind-numbing like styling her mane for the heck of it or practicing her dancing in the safety of the one place she could get away from it all, she barged in the door, muttered a barely audible greeting to Storm and Rainbow Dash, currently playing with Tank and Hope, didn’t quite catch their response which she could only assume was some kind of jibe, and promptly barged into her room on the first floor, shut the door, and launched herself gleefully into her admittedly lavish bed. Digging into the luxurious fabric and heaving a gratified sigh, she stilled herself and let her mind, body, and heart slow, relax, and be at peace.

Her room was her sanctuary, a place untainted by the world’s expectation and a safe haven where she could, for a time, be anything she wanted to be without reproach, from herself or from others. Whether it was a time spent honing her poise with fluid, graceful motions or seeing how soft she could get her mane after applying an exorbitant amount of product, as long as intruders first knocked, she could let go of everything and explore, little by little, what lay underneath her well-structure tomcolt personality. She spread her hooves wide and cracked an eye open, feeling something that, while soft, was assuredly not her bed. Curiosity soon grew to horror as she sat bolt upright and looked around. Somepony had completely sacked her room, and her secrets were all exposed, laid bare and out in the open.

The fabric held in her hoof was none other than one of her favorite dresses, one she had worn only a few times due to its special nature. It had been custom made by Rarity for a night when she performed alongside Sweetie Belle at the tavern, a rare moment when she had made exception to let her feminine side flare, and a treasured memory she kept locked away in the deepest parts of her heart. If it were just the dress, she might have been fine, but no, somepony had all but emptied her closet, with something far worse than dresses laying on the floor - striped socks. Speechless, she ran to lock herself in the bathroom only to find curlers and ten of her seventeen conditioners laying around, one or two open and appearing to have been recently used. Her voice came back in a hurry, making up for lost time and resounding throughout the house.

“When I find whoever did this, they are so dead, they’re gonna re-dead! I don’t care if it’s impossible, I’ll make a way!” Storm glanced over at Rainbow Dash and bumped hooves, their little mission a total success as a little way of getting back at her for Scootaloo’s callous disregard of Pipsqueak’s inappropriate behavior with Storm and, to a lesser extent, Rainbow Dash. Scootaloo, however, had a slightly different interpretation of the events, her mind frantically looking for a link and stunning her as it found a possible culprit. “Pipsqueak! I hope you’re freaking ready to walk the plank, because you’re sleeping with the fishes the moment I get my hooves on you!”

“Uh, Dash? I think Scootaloo might be a little more upset than we anticipated...” Storm murmured, watching the hallway with slight concern and dwindling amusement. “I just wanted to mess with her a little, not scar her for life.”

“You can always blame it on me. After all, I’m the one who went through her stuff,” Dash replied, slugging him lightly and chuckling. “We’ll just tell her when she...” Dash began before an orange streak shot out the door and into the sky, leaving an afterimage on the mare’s vision in an astounding bout of agility. “...when she comes out. Uh...” Dash faltered, staring at the open door. “I wouldn’t want to be Pipsqueak when she finds him. What do you think, Tank?” Before she had even finished speaking, the wise tortoise had safely retreated inside his shell. “Yeah, I thought so too...”

Whispering leaves welcomed a meditative farm filly home, the serenity of Sweet Apple Acre’s serving as the perfect backdrop for a simple mind to reach simple conclusions. While Applebloom didn’t have the same harrowing fear of all things girly, she did find the field of romance to be unfamiliar, and as prone as Rumble had proven himself to be clumsy, breaking anything and everything including himself, she was more afraid of herself at that moment than anything else. Most ponies her age had barely even held hooves, if that, and yet she had ended up in Rumble’s sweet, exhilarating, terrifying embrace twice in one morning, though the fall from the barn was less than romantic. All these things she could excuse if it weren’t for the fact that she found it strikingly enjoyable. Why? She hadn’t the faintest idea, and as she trotted up the ramp, preparing to shed her introspection and set her mind to a more constructive task, she ground to a halt as she found Applejack standing inside, the mare’s gaze dropping from the “fixed” room back down to her sister as a wry grin spread across the pregnant mare’s muzzle.

“Sis? What’re you doin’ here?”

“Just checkin’ out yer fort, an’ ah gotta say, Applebloom; either you’ve been bitten by the love bug an’ didn’t notice, or you were straight delusional when you told me the roof was fixed.” Applebloom immediately opened her mouth to protest her senseless defacing of Rumble’s work, but instead, her jaw dropped open farther as she actually took the time to look at it. “Yeah, that was mah first reaction, too,” Applejack chuckled, taking a seat and waiting for the filly to recover from the shock. There were so many flaws in the job Rumble had done that, in the face of the colt’s kindness, she had failed to notice, but were now glaringly obvious to her well honed senses. Clearly, the roof was at fault, and regardless of her living audience of one, it was going to hear about it.

“You lyin’ hunk o’ shingles! Ah thought you said you were doin’ fine! You... but... ‘ow ‘n tarnation can ya say you’re fine when ya look like... like... ah can’t say any o’ the words comin’ t’ mind, that’s ‘ow bad it is! Just look at you!” she ranted, jabbing a hoof towards the ceiling. “Them nails are way too big; see ‘ow they’re pokin’ through? What if one of us gets real excited? It’ll be a lob... lobo... a nasty, painful hole in the noggin’, that’s what! And... and dear Celestia, Luna, an’ every constellation known to pony an’ beast alike... If these boards were any more askew, they’d be a work o’ that ‘orrible mess known as ‘modern art!’ This is... ah just...”

“Whoa nelly, looks like we both got a little Granny Smith in us...” Applejack muttered under her breath, recounting her overly affectionate mannerisms with the non-living that were most prominently displayed with Bloomberg. As Applebloom struggled to find the words to fuel further fiery oration, she instead fell silent, her memory of the morning casting the scene in a new light, as if lit by the morning rays once more.

Ah wonder how much longer ah’ll be able t’ tell mahself ah ain’t fallen fer you, Rumble. It’s only been a day, but you’ve done somethin’ special fer me ah can’t remember anypony else doin’. Ah’m always so dead set on doin’ everythin’ mahself that nopony ever even tries t’ fix somethin’ o’ mine. It’s a ‘orrible job, but it’s... beautiful in its own way.

“Applebloom, ah don’t mean t’ sound like a crotchety ol’ crone, but that smile is tellin’ tales ah don’t much like the sound of.” Applebloom simply grinned wider, feeling that same strange warmth she experienced when the colt held her as she remembered just how much the colt had been through in the last twenty-four hours alone.

“Well, o’ course ah’m smilin’! Why wouldn’t ah be? So, Rumble didn’t do the greatest job ever...” Her ears fell flat as Applejack gave her the infamous “you’d best be honest” stares. “Ok, fine, ah’ll admit it’s the worst mess ah’ve seen since that slop the Flim Flam brother’s called cider, but darn it, sis, can’t you at least see he tried?” Applejack raised her eyes, nodded once, and brought her gaze level with the adamant filly’s once more.

“Nope, not really.”

“Well, maybe you just don’t want to see it!” Applebloom defended, holding her head high and trotting towards the second exit to grab her art supplies from the second story, but her sister’s soft, serious tone bid her turn in the doorway, soothing the filly’s indignation and garnering her attention.

“Maybe you’re right, Bloom,” Applejack conceded with a shrug, lifting her eyes once more to the dismal patchwork. “Ah didn’t dabble in courtin’ anypony until Silver came along, an’ even though ah was an adult with plenty o’ lessons under mah stetson, may it rest in peace, it was one o’ the scariest things ah ever had t’ face. Ah’ll say it again, Applebloom, this ain’t about Rumble or how nice he is or isn’t, though if he’s mean, he’ll get what’s comin’ to him,” Applejack asserted, backing it with a rueful smile and light laughter. “Ah guess ah’m havin’ a little trouble lettin’ ya dabble in somethin’ ah think is dangerous. As it is, comin’ home t’ find me here probably makes me seem like a shameful snoop.”

“Apple pie, sis...” Applejack barely had time to drop her eyes from the roof before two filly hooves wrapped around her waist. “Family is always gonna be first. An’ since you ain’t lyin’, ah won’t either; ah’m... ah’m a little scared mahself...”

“Phew! That’s a load off mah shoulders...” Applejack laughed, wiping fictional sweat from her brow. “Can’t say why that brings me so much comfort, hearin’ ya say that, but it sure did me well all the same. Applebloom?” she stopped, releasing her hold as her sister pulled back and gave her full attention to the mare. “Ah want you t’ feel like you can talk t’ me ‘bout anythin’ at all. Ah know ah’ve been kinda stubborn ‘bout this whole subject...”

“Only kinda?”

“Ok, ah’ve been a right pain in the flank on a few points!” Applejack exclaimed dramatically, throwing her hooves up in mock despair. “Big Macintosh was always there fer me when ah needed him. Never got upset with me unless ah really deserved it, an’ you’ve helped me too. Ah’ve been given a lot, and taken a lot, so now, ah’d like t’ give back to you. Apple pie?” she concluded, raising a hoof.

“Apple pie, ferever!” Applebloom cheered, pounding her sister’s hoof with her own and giving the mare one more squeeze before shifting gears and moving to her forepony attitude. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, ah have some pressin’ business to attend to. Rumble’s been right kind t’ me, an’ ah need t’ make him somethin’ t’ show it.”

“Wait, yer not gonna fix the roof?” Applejack asked, slightly bewildered and convinced that would be the at the top of her sister’s to do list, but as the filly shook her head, Applejack realized that her sister may have found something that could rival even her compulsive need for structural perfection.

“Sis, ah think the noggin’ ah done nearly turned t’ jelly is a bit more important. An’ besides, ah kinda like it. It’s, uh... rustic?”

“It’s ‘modern’ art.”

“Oh, now, you just had t’ say that!” Applebloom whined, covering her eyes and desperately trying to focus on the venerable efforts behind the shoddy work rather than the atrocity itself. “You know ah can’t stand that... that... oh, just thinkin’ ‘bout it makes me crazy! ‘Modern art’ is Discord’s way o’ gettin’ back at everypony with a shred o’ artistic integrity!”

“An’ with that lovely thought, this flaky pastry is going to save herself before the filling boils over,” Applejack teased, tapping her sister on the shoulder and starting on her way back to the farm. Applebloom chanced a peak at the room, hoping it was safe, but instantly covered her eyes again, muttering under her breath for a couple of seconds before calling out after Applejack.

“Wait, sis! Ah still need permission t’ go see Rumble!”

“Huh? Oh, right,” Applejack replied dismissively, continuing on her way out the door. “Just don’t be home too late, an’ try not t’ land ‘im in the hospital, ya hear?” Not bothering to dignify her sister with a response, Applebloom shook off the mantle of distraction and pointedly ignored the roof, made straight to the second level and began pulling out all of the art supplies she could find so she could set about drafting a mental blueprint of how to best make her apology. As designs, flashy and elegant, shifted through her mind, she let slip a sigh that she was again thinking about things all the wrong way.

Rumble doesn’t seem the type t’ get all excited over somethin’ just ‘cause it shines like the sun. Besides, this ain’t some art project, this is an apology. So... what do ah really want t’ show him? Teased to the surface by her willingness to open her mind, that wonderfully frightening sensation rose slowly within her chest, and the path became clear.

“Heh, ah really do make things too complicated, don’t ah...” she murmured, chuckling softly as she selected a clean sheet of white construction paper and got to work. Even before any of the glitter or lace that was to come, she pondered for just a moment and drafted her message to a colt that she already counted amongst her closest of friends. With just enough decoration to show she cared, she sat back and felt sorrow recede in the face of the excitement welling within at the thought of delivering her gift. However, there was yet one thing missing, and if she had been listening with her mind, she never would have caught it. “Well... ah guess a little bit o’ glitter glue wouldn’t hurt...”

Her last minute alteration was, perhaps, a bit more revealing and forward than she meant it to be, but she couldn’t deny it accented the simplicity perfectly, and beaming with confidence, she looked out over the orchard while the fast setting glue dried quickly in the sunlight. Ah can hardly wait t’ see the look on ‘is face! He’s gonna love it, ah just know it! A quick test revealed that the gift was ready to be delivered, and after a glance at the clock revealed that the afternoon class was already in session, she snatched up the card and galloped straight towards the school, protecting her gift and weaving through the crowds. Actually, the crowds more made way for her, the determination and anticipation shining her in eyes undeniable and making it clear nopony could alter her course. Arriving at the schoolyard well after the bell had rung to signal the start of classes, she took a minute or two to catch her breath, held her head high, and knocked open the doors.

“Applebloom?” Miss Cheerilee asked, tilting her head to the side and wondering why one of her better students was causing no small disturbance. “Is everything all right?”

“Uh...” she began, dropping the note to her hoof. Well, this suddenly ain’t so easy anymore, with everypony lookin’ at me... It’s that thing ah added at the end, isn’t it? Focus, darn it! “Ah’m sorry t’ interrupt an’ everythin’, but could ya show me where Rumble sits? He must be runnin’ real late, ‘cause ah don’t see ‘im, an’ ah had somethin’ ah... ah kinda wanted t’ give to ‘im...” she trailed off, blushing lightly.

“I’m very sorry, Applebloom, but Rumble isn’t coming to class today.”

“Huh? Why not?”

“Well, you see, Thunderlane came by earlier to tell me that Rumble couldn’t make it to class today. He seems to have had a number of accidents this morning, and Thunderlane thought it best that he stay in bed for the day.”

“Accid...” Applebloom began, unable to finish. He ain’t... even well enough t’ come t’ school? All those accidents were ‘cause of me... Rumble, ah’m so sorry... What had once been a source of pride and excitement melted away into a flashy reminder of her shame. It ain’t enough, not even close t’ cover what’s happened, but... but it’s all ah’ve got. Blinking back the moisture rising to her eyes, Applebloom clamped the card in her muzzle and bolted from the class, resolute that, regardless of how inadequate it may be, she would show Rumble she was sorry in any way she could.

The aura of gloom surrounding a single filly, sitting alone in the center swing of an all but abandoned park, was almost palpable; merely passing by would surely have sapped the mirth from any foals daring enough to approach. Silver Spoon slowly lifted her head as Sweetie Belle and Ruby approached, the broken earth pony’s red rimmed eyes conveying an intense apathy, the kind that can only be found when one’s tears have run completely dry. It struck Ruby as odd that at that moment, when she needed to be giving an encouraging word the most, none came, and neither did any jibes or snobby attitude from the filly with an empty gaze; Silver Spoon said not a word, and slowly dropped her eyes once more to the ground as Sweetie Belle tugged gently on Ruby’s shoulder, leading her a short distance away.

“Ruby, that’s... I don’t even know what could have happened, but she doesn’t even look like the same pony. What should we do?” Ruby had no real answer, not having any idea herself. Whatever had happened was serious, enough to completely restructure her personality, at least for a time, and given how delicate her condition probably was, she doubted simply trotting over and asking was the greatest idea.

“If... she’s really hurting that much,” Ruby started, swallowing hard and turning away, “then having both of us here is probably a bad idea. I mean, would you really want to spread something that painful around to more ponies than you needed to?”

“You’ve got a point,” Sweetie Belle conceded, staring a moment before nodding sagely. “So... would you like me to leave?”

“Honestly? No, not really,” Ruby replied with a half-hearted smile that quickly faded. “But... that’s probably what’s best. I’ll see what I can do and meet up with you later if I can. If you don’t see me... well, I’d like to help her as much as I can, so if she decides to put up with me for more than five seconds, I may not see you until tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Sweetie Belle quipped, shooting her an encouraging grin and trotting a few steps away before turning back. “Oh, and Ruby? If you think it’d help her out, you can always offer to let her hang out with us. Even if she... acts like normal, she could clearly use a few good friends.” Ruby closed the distance between them quickly and pulled her into a tight embrace, indebted to her friend for her understanding.

“Thank you, Sweetie Belle. I know you’re just doing this for me, but... I really appreciate it anyways.”

“Come on, I have a heart too, you know,” Sweetie replied, pulling away and chuckling lightly despite the seriousness of the setting. “Nopony... could look at that and not feel bad... except for that rotten, stuck up... gah, I’m gonna go write a song about her... Let’s see, what rhymes with ‘prissy snob?’” Ruby stifled a laugh as she waved Sweetie Belle off, slowly dropping her hoof and preparing herself mentally for what was to come. The unicorn took a deep breath and turned back to Silver Spoon, who still hadn’t budged an inch nor made a sound, and after a few minutes of contemplation, slowly approached and sat down on the swing next to her.

If she wants to talk, I’m here, and if she wants to leave, she’s free. Silver Spoon, I’m extending my hoof, but... will you take it? One minute passed without the slightest change, two without a word. Ruby shifted slightly, the clinking of the chain links sounding like a hammer to a flagpole so quiet was the park, and a quick look around revealed that what few ponies were present had left, leaving the two of them completely alone. After ten long minutes had passed, Ruby began to wonder how long the silence could last, but she was resolute, and reaffirmed within herself that she would not move until the filly either left, or said her piece.

I wish I knew more about you, Silver Spoon. It’s hard to know how to help when I have no idea what you like, how you live... All I’ve ever seen you do is follow Diamond Tiara, but now that you’re away from her, is... is this really who you are? You... look so...

“Have...” Cracked, hollow, and hushed, the single word commanded all of Ruby’s attention, the filly snapping her head up and turning to face Silver Spoon whose gaze remained locked on the ground. “Have you... ever felt betrayed?” Devoid of attitude, the heavy question was asked with the frightening honesty of a filly who couldn’t reach the knife plunged into her back, and Silver Spoon’s pain became Ruby’s as her empathy was set from generous to overflowing.

“...I’ve never even seen my birth father, and my mother was considered for a long time by many to be a slothful drunk who makes little contribution to society. I’d... be lying if I said I’ve never felt betrayed by that...” Silver Spoon, for the first time since her arrival, showed some signs of life, her muzzle slowly turning as she stared at Ruby for just a few fleeting seconds before hanging her head once more. While it was an assumption, albeit a well-founded one, that Diamond Tiara was behind Silver Spoon’s condition, Ruby exerted all her strength not to let the fury overcome her; if Diamond Tiara was still acting normal, or even worse than normal, while her best friend was sitting alone, then clearly Silver Spoon was the victim.

“Do...” Ruby started, catching herself and shaking her head. I can’t... I can’t just ask, not yet. I barely know her, and she’s... putting a lot of trust in me just by staying. But, I can’t just do nothing... Even before she turned, Ruby could feel the intensity in the filly’s eyes burning into her, but she refused to let her discomfort taint her with weakness, nor would turn away. As Silver Spoon asked one, simple question of untold importance, Ruby met her gaze with gentleness, kindness, and acceptance for whatever the filly was keeping hidden.

“Have you... ever kept a secret?”

Prudence, lonely and neglected, raised a feeble voice to dissuade an orange pegasus filly from her course, raising the notion that perhaps apprehending Pipsqueak in the middle of class while surrounded by his peers and yet again giving Cheerilee cause to sigh would be a bad idea, but no, Scootaloo caught sight of the school, expertly swooped down to the ground, and barged in the door with all the grace of, well, Rumble on a bad day. Cheerilee nearly swallowed her chalk as the reverberating slam of the doors echoed through the class, and while she discretely spat the offending ill-tasting snack from her mouth, all eyes fixed on Scootaloo who, at that moment, couldn’t care less. Tact joined it’s good friend prudence, gingerly climbing down into the dank, dark hole it had taken shelter in, offering a comforting hoof and a shoulder to cry on while Scootaloo made things very interesting for the afternoon class.

“What the hay were you thinking, Pipsqueak?!?” Scootaloo cried, dashing over to where the colt sat obediently at his desk which suddenly made room not just for his paper, but also four little filly hooves. He didn’t respond at first, as contrary to what one might think, he was quite a well-behaved student in class after having sat through a gentle lecture by both Luna and Cheerilee, though Scootaloo’s sudden presence and obvious disregard for manners left the hapless colt bewildered.

“...ahoy?” he offered hesitantly, simultaneously stoked Scootaloo was so hyped and rueful that it just had to be during class of all times. Sadly, his perception of her mood soon shifted as she bellowed about things neither he nor the rest of the class knew anything about, but in her frantic state, she could only react to the seeming betrayal of a close friend.

“Ok, so maybe it’s true that I use a lot of conditioner on my mane, but so what? I happen to like my mane, and I take care of it for me, ok? Me! Nopony else! And yes, I know it’s totally lame that I think carnations are beautiful, and it’s terribly girly that I bathe twice a day sometimes, but what the hay, Pipsqueak? How could you go through my room while I was gone?” Oh, tell me he’s not going to deny it... Don’t even try giving me that look, Pipsqueak.

“Uh...” he started, glancing at her hooves, which had made quite a bit of noise during her rant, and then up to the filly to whom they belonged, her face flushed crimson as she strained to make her point. Ok, so she seems kind of upset, and I should probably say something nice, even though I have no idea what she’s talking about. Come on, what would Gale say? Oh, I’ve got it! “Ye sure can dance a merry jig on me table, lass.” Why does her eye keep trying to close and then opening again? Did it get confused? “Are ye sure you're feelin’ alright? Ye look even more green in the gills than ye did earlier, mate.”

“Al... alright? Are you kidding me?” Scootaloo sputtered, her newly acquired eye twitch taking a break while she attempted to stave off the unfortunate colt’s untimely demise with a few deep breaths, though it only gave her fuel to rant. “No, I’m not all right! How could I be, after you broke into my room, went through my stuff, and discovered all my secrets? If I wanted ponies to know about my dresses, or my striped socks, or... or everything else, I’d tell them, but I don’t!”

“Well then why’re you hollerin’ so everypony can hear them, deckswab?” Pipsqueak frantically fired back, unsure of how to respond to her misdirected animosity. “I’m all fer a good adventure, lass, but even I know some places are forbidden territory. I don’t know where you got the crazy notion that this captain explored yer cabin, but I haven’t, an’ it’s darn close t’ mutiny, all these things you’re spoutin’.” Scootaloo’s frustration slowly turned to a gut-churning fear as she realized that, even if Pipsqueak were lying, she’d just blurted out far more than what could have been gleaned from her ravaged room. Everypony knew.

“But... so... you didn’t... go in my room while I was at school?” A filly’s heart fell to the pit of her stomach as Pipsqueak shook his head, his honesty undeniable, his innocence clear, and his quiet voice, devoid of his usual dialect, carrying all the force of a sledgehammer. She wasn’t the one who had been betrayed, but the colt she had just railed against, publicly and without restraint, and his words threatened to shatter what remained of her fragmented facade of strength.

“No. I’m hurt, Scootaloo. I’m used to being accused of all sorts of things, but coming from you, it’s worse.” Her eyes dropped to the desk, then to the floor as she turned away, convinced that life as she knew it had just come to an end.

My image is gone, my secrets are now known by everypony in class, and I’ve just blown up at somepony who doesn’t even deserve it, but dang it, I’m NOT going to cry in front of him! I’d... have nothing left if I did that... He’d never see me as cool or tough again, and probably stop hanging out with me, and... Such thoughts did little to help her cause, and agitation with herself and everything else pumped life into her wings. “Fine, whatever, I’m sorry, ok?” Pipsqueak blinked once as his desk was kicked over by a filly jumping into flight and swooping out the door, leaving nought but an uneasy silence and a few orange feathers resting in the colt’s lap. Cheerilee was used to dealing with many different situations, but that had to be the first time a student had caused that big of an uproar in class, and thus she had remained quiet until Pipsqueak spoke up.

“Pardon me, Miss Cheerilee?”

“Y-yes, Pipsqueak, what is it?” she replied, trotting around the front desk and over towards the colt who was acting the very model of a proper student.

“Can I have permission to go try and find out why Scootaloo just exploded?” Spoken with unabashed seriousness in a manner-of-fact tone that would leave Twilight nodding her agreement, the room erupted into laughter while Pipsqueak diligently waited for an answer from his teacher who he couldn’t help but notice was sighing a fair bit more than normal.

“Yes, Pipsqueak, that’s fine...”

“Thank you very much, Miss Cheerilee. Now then...” Snatching up the orange feathers and stuffing it into his mane, he dashed to the door and shed the weighty mantle of manners he dutifully wore in class at Luna’s behest. “Scootaloo! Ye best make yerself scarce, ‘cause when this captain finds ye, there’ll be consequences! On me honor, I’m gonna hunt ye down!” If anything, the young colt was honorable, and with all haste he tore out the door, searching the skies and having little success due to the large patches of cloud dotting the sky, each one a potential hiding spot where the filly would be effectively beyond his reach.

Curses, the weather be against me! Pausing in the center road to catch his breath, he slowly panned a circle, his eyes darting from place to place. Lady Luck, ye be a fickle lass, but this captain would be much obliged if ye’d show a little kindness an’ let me ‘elp me damsel in distress. On me honor, I’ll never call ‘er a deckswab again. So... have a heart, will ye? Riding on the winds of good favor, he saw an orange speck drop from the skies, and with a roguish grin, he again returned to his pursuit of the best treasure he’d found yet, even if it did run a fair bit more than gold.

Cracked Walls

Chapter 8: Cracked Walls

Small orange wings folded as the days events caught up with a filly who landed amongst the long, golden stalks of grass, waving like a golden ocean in the autumn breeze. They were tall, sometimes reaching above Scootaloo’s head as she aimlessly wandered through the rustling sea until she broke through to a small, cliff-like plateau where the foliage thinned and she could see for miles. It was there that the last remnants of her walls were allowed to crumble, her facade of indifference and strength no longer needed nor wanted, and it was there that Scootaloo allowed herself a luxury she rarely indulged. With the spring rains long since past, the thirsty ground soaked up the filly’s tears with gratitude, though it couldn’t know at what price it was receiving its bounty, nor could the quietude of the countryside fully muffle her soft cries.

How could I be so stupid, running in there and spouting all that stuff? I never even stopped to consider that Storm and Rainbow Dash were probably just teasing me like always, but now... The memory of her outburst at Pipsqueak flashed through her mind, and she cringed as the trickle dribbling down her cheeks became a stream. I’m sorry, Pipsqueak. I was totally the one at fault, shouting like that when I didn’t even stop to ask until it was too late. A sudden gust of wind sent a shiver through Scootaloo’s body, though it barely registered as she lifted her eyes skyward, longing for blue skies but seeing little but gray.

Her head drooped back down, her thoughts a convoluted mire all swirling around but a single question: what now? Sure, she hadn’t bawled back in class, but she was now, and for all intents and purposes, any semblance of her being anything close to “cool” was eliminated. While she feebly tried to convince herself that it was stupid to think Pipsqueak would just give her the boot, she couldn’t help but be afraid that she had indeed pushed a colt she hardly knew too far with her hot-headed tirade. I’m the worst, wanting him to come after me when it’s me that should be begging for forgiveness. Pipsqueak... I...

“Special Move #2: Pirate Tackle!” At the sound of a voice she’d been longing to hear, yet not expecting in the slightest, elation flooded the filly as she whirled just in time to have Pipsqueak bowl into her, knocking them both from the short cliff and sending them tumbling downhill. Dirty, breathless, and utterly disoriented, they came to a rest in a heap at the bottom, and after taking a few moments to let the world stop spinning, Scootaloo found herself atop Pipsqueak and maintaining an unprecedented level of body contact. Suddenly, “guilt” and “remorse” were magically transformed into “burning sensation in cheeks” and “uncanny levels of happy threatening to burst a filly’s heart.” However, Scootaloo still had something she needed to say, and so, for the sake of her own clarity of thought, she stood and looked at the grin of a pirate with shining eyes.

“Pipsqueak, I’m... really sorry for freaking out like that. It was really dumb, and... I hope we can still be friends.” Stop... looking at me like that. You should be mad at me, not... Unable to bear his kind gaze, devoid of judgement or anger, Scootaloo averted her eyes, quaking lightly as the rush of emotions threatened to overwhelm her.

“Scootaloo...” Pipsqueak began, his accent there but his tone soft, “ye’ll... always be my deckhoof.” His words were salve to the soul, and as she slowly lifted her eyes to a pony who was regarding her with all the same exuberance as always, despite her laying among the shattered remnants of her facade, she felt that strange, wonderful, terrifying burning sensation once more light her ablaze. “Ye’ve got a lot t’ learn. Aye, pirates love a good adventure, but what do you think they're riskin’ their lives t’ find, eh? Treasure. Adventure and treasure, lass, and yer full o’ both.” It was the single most romantic thing Scootaloo had ever heard ever, and she was defenseless against it.

I don’t get it! What’s... what’s going on? I should be totally miserable right now, and I was up until he said that, mushy... mushy, sweet, romantic stuff that’s totally the best th... No! Stop it, I don’t want to hear those things, and I really don’t want to like it! But I do and it drives me nuts! And yet, no amount of denial could ward off the acute shortness of breath and increased body temperature she was experiencing. Each second felt a minute long, and after an agonizing three minutes by her count, she realized that it really wasn’t so bad. In fact, the sensation was, she would admit to herself later in the solitude of her own room, oddly enjoyable, though for now, a kiss would do.

Wait, what?!? No, stop! Stop, face! Not another inch closer! Scootaloo was released from her introspection to find her muzzle was indeed moving towards a forbidden destination, and she pulled back on the reigns with all her might, though that only managed to stop her forward motion; their snouts were still touching every so gently. Scootaloo was mortified, Pipsqueak was paralyzed, and Lady Luck sat watching with great amusement and anticipation for what was next to come. Come on, Pipsqueak! You’re the captain! Order me to stop!

I didn’t know that my newest crew member was a Siren! This disrupts the chain of command, Scootaloo! I can’t... can’t move... Mutiny, I say! If fate were, by some odd happenstance, a sentient being, there was little doubt in either pony’s mind that he would be having himself a merry time yanking their heartstrings, but this changed little. Scootaloo was hopeless before the dashing rogue, who, in turn, couldn’t resist the allure of the Siren.

"Pipsqueak..." Scootaloo managed, her voice trembling and soft. Succumbing to her fate, her eyes began to close before being blasted back with all the force of a cannon as Pipsqueak rallied behind a sudden influx of sheer force of will, or at least terror of becoming a hoof pancake should Scootaloo’s father discover anything pertaining to everything that had happened in the last two minutes.

"Mutiny, friendly fire, hull breach an' abandon ship! Fall back, retreat, an' hit the deck!" Pipsqueak cried, scrambling upright and bolting up the hill, back towards town. “There’s a Siren among us, lads! Every pony fer themselves! Run fer yer lives!” Crestfallen that she had missed her opportunity with pathetic hesitation and relieved that she’d been spared by her captain’s sudden lapse of cowardice, Scootaloo responded with equally mixed emotions.

But... he... no kiss? No kiss! Dangit it... Woohoo! Woo...hoo? Wait just a minute, here... Wait, no waiting, that’s why I didn’t get kissed in the first place! Ewww, kissing, I... “Gah, what the hay is wrong with my brain?!?” Scootaloo cried, rearing up and stomping down with all the force she could muster before tearing after her mark, her captain, and the one pony that could fill her heart with fire, though given her temperament, she’d admit it was better than the idea of feeling butterflies. “Pipsqueak, get back here! We need to talk!”

“That wasn’t talkin’ ye were thinkin’ ‘bout usin’ yer mouth for, temptress!” he all but wailed, frantically pushing his little legs for all they were worth, and with good cause; Scootaloo was hot on his trail, not having the faintest idea what she’d do when she caught up but definitely sure it wasn’t anything mushy or romantic, and double definitely not kissing.

Once a place of laughter, Applebloom slowed to a stop before a house she’d only ever entered once, and under much more pleasant circumstances. It struck her how much more imposing the door seemed, looming over her and threatening to turn her legs to jelly. Even with the widespread humiliation and outrage over the Gabby Gums column, the shame she felt as she lifted her hoof was almost tangible, though she couldn’t say if the horrible taste was just her mind’s way of coping or if it actually was regret manifest in physical form. She couldn’t leave, though. Rumble was hurt, it was mostly her fault, and be it fence, barn, door or pony skull, she fixed things, especially if she was the one behind the damages. Unfortunately, as she swallowed back her fear and gave the door a few solid knocks, it wasn’t the exuberance of two mares acting like fillies, but one stallion who she could only assume was the older brother Rumble spoke so highly of.

“You must be...” Thunderlane began, just barely beginning to break into a grin before finding a grimace to be much more fitting as pent up guilt exploded in a nearly tearful apology.

“Ah’m sorry, Thunderlane!” Applebloom wailed, desperate to garner his mercy and prostrating herself before the bewildered stallion. “Ah didn’t mean t’ knock yer brother senseless, or run ‘im into that cart, or... or anythin’ else that happened! Please, don’t hate me; ah’ll do better, ah promise!” Soft laughter, gentle and soothing like Rumble’s, dared Applebloom to raise her eyes, finding neither anger nor disdain upon the stallion’s face. Is this stallion all right in the head? Ah whacked ‘is brother! Ain’t there some kind o’ rule that generally, when somepony hauls off and brains one o’ yer family members, ya get angry? Well, come on, say somethin’!

“It must run in the family...” Thunderlane stated, confusing the filly further with a warm grin as he opened the door wider and motioned inside.

“Uh, beg yer pardon?” Applebloom replied, slowly rising to her hooves and tilting her head to the side.

“Cloudchaser hit me with a skillet once,” Thunderlane explained with a rueful grin. “I was out for two whole days, and trust me, she looked about as miserable as you do right now. Doesn’t make me happy that you whacked my little bro,” he assured her, noting with approval that the mere mention of the fact bid her look away. “It’s pretty clear you’re torturing yourself just fine without my help. Rumble wouldn’t be too happy with me if I turned you away at the door, now would he?”

He put everything together that fast? That ain’t right. “Is it really that obvious, or are you just smarter than the average stallion?” Applebloom inquired, warming to Thunderlane faster that she’d have thought she would, given how much Applejack had drilled caution with colts into her.

“Smarter than average?” he replied with a good natured laugh, beckoning her inside as he trotted in, taking a seat on a far couch and stretching out. “Don’t be misled, I’m not incredibly gifted in the intelligence department. What I am, however, is well trained. Two mares, twice the painful lessons learned,” Thunderlane laughed, entirely serious. “Making a relationship with two mares that are nearly complete opposites work is only possible if every failure is learned from.”

Ah can see so much o’ him in Rumble already. Rumble’s a little more reserved, but ah can see why he looks up t’ you, Thunderlane. “Give yerself a little credit,” Applebloom quipped, already feeling at home enough to tease. “Ah’d say the fact that yer teachable puts ya head an’ shoulders above a lot o’ ponies, filly an’ colt alike. Ah can’t say ah understand datin’ two mares at once, but it sounds like a right load o’ work, an’ ah can respect hard work.”

“You’re pretty cool, Applebloom. Perfect for my awesome little bro,” Thunderlane quipped, standing upright and trotting over. “Now then, I see you have a get well gift, so let me show you to his room. Keep your voice down, though. Seems his - what'd he call her... mallet angel? Gave him a fun-filled morning and a dreadful headache.” Chastised, encouraged, hesitant and excited all at once, Applebloom grabbed her gift, followed the stallion over, and peered into a dark room with the blinds shut and the lights out. There was really very little remarkable about the room, with a few pictures of Thunderlane, his fillyfriends, and two ponies she assumed were his parents adorning his walls and a bed clad in red.

“You know,” Thunderlane began, speaking softly and standing by the bed, “he’s never shown a strong romantic interest in anypony, despite having to live with me and my fillyfriends. Take care of him, and I know he’ll do the same for you.”

“Huh...”

“That... wasn’t what I was expecting,” Thunderlane murmured, watching as Applebloom slowly lifted her gaze and answered as matter-of-factly as one could hope.

“Mah hearts all crazy from dealin’ with stuff ah ain’t ever had t’ even think about, mah sister would lose it completely if anythin’ save ‘oh, ah’m sorry fer bumpin’ into ya’ happens, yet everypony is already actin’ like we’ve planned a weddin’, an’ ah don’t even know fer sure where ah stand on the subject! So... ‘huh.’ What part wasn’t clear? It makes perfect sense!” Slightly indignant with the chuckling stallion as he quietly left the room and gently closed the door, Applebloom approached the bed slowly, climbing up beside Rumble where she sat watching him sleep.

How can a pony so gentle an’ peaceful lookin’ show a “strong interest romantically” in somepony as “uncouth” as mahself, as Rarity might say? Ah always thought girls were supposed t’ be the confusin’ ones, but you, Rumble... you’ve got me confounded in the worst o’ ways. An’ you know what’s worse? Ah... ah don’t think ah even mind... Permitting just a little of her defensive perimeter to be breached, she allowed herself a smile in the dark as she let just a tiny flame flicker within, her hoof slowly reaching out and finding that even after all the strife of the day, Rumble’s mane was still soft.

“And this here is their clubhouse! As you can see, it’s been through a lot recently.” Silver Spoon nodded quietly, acknowledging Ruby’s words and looking around at the dust and patched up roof. “It was really something. Pipsqueak burst in, shouting some gibberish and waving his wooden sword around, and then Rumble came plowing through the roof and took out Scootaloo. It was hilarious!” Turning around, Ruby eagerly awaited some sign that mirth still lived.

“I see.” It didn’t.

That’s it? You know, Silver Spoon, you’re making it really hard to keep smiling. I mean, you’re not being mean or snobby, which is nice, but you totally left me hanging, won’t explain what’s going on, or what your secret is, or... or anything! You’re a filly! You should know how much it drives us nuts when somepony hides things like that!

“Why are you doing this? You don’t like me.” It wasn’t even stated as a question, but as fact, and yet, there was no discernible malice. Ruby turned around slowly, giving a demure Silver Spoon her full attention and surmising that the filly really did just want to know.

“After spending so much time with Diamond Tiara, I guess it makes sense that my actions would be confusing, even suspicious.” Silver Spoon hesitated, mostly at having to hear the name, but confirmed Ruby’s suspicions with a nod. “It’s really simple; I don’t need a reason to help somepony.” Silver Spoon blinked once, but was otherwise unresponsive. “Helping others is what brings me happiness, and I couldn’t stand seeing you so upset. But... I can only help if ponies let me, and... Diamond Tiara was...”

“A prissy parvenu halfwit?" It was glorious to hear, and from Silver Spoon of all ponies, it was music to Ruby’s ears, but it was as jarring as it was cathartic. "Hardly does her justice, does it...”

“Y-yeah, more or less,” Ruby replied, stunned for a moment at the vehemence in Silver Spoon’s words. Those two were best friends, but now... what the hay could possibly have caused such a terrible divide? Nevermind, it’s not important right now. “As angry as her attitude made me, and as cutting as her words were, I’d... still help her, if she’d let me. It’s just the kind of pony I am. I think the word is, um... altruistic. Selfless to a fault...” Ruby chuckled softly, glancing away.

“...better than being talented at treating everypony around you like pawns.” Silver Spoon was breaking apart Ruby’s preconceived notions of her persona not with a proverbial chisel, but glorious trinitrotoluene.

What the... are you even the same pony, Silver Spoon? Geez... “Uh... that’s true, I guess. I mean, for sure, but...” Ruby was rather at a loss as to where to steer the conversation after that, but Silver Spoon left the subject alone, choosing rather to test the telescope as Ruby led her up to the second story. Unfortunately, clouds and sunlight made stargazing a moot point, so Silver Spoon quickly abandoned the notion and turned back to Ruby blank faced.

“I should probably be going home now. My parents will not be happy if I arrive home too much later.”

“Oh, ok...” Ruby replied slowly, dropping her gaze. I said I’d meet her on her own terms, but dang it, why are you running? Even if what you just said is true, you’re still avoiding me... Letting it go was hard, and went against everything Ruby stood for, leaving the problem unsolved, but there really wasn’t another option; if Silver Spoon needed space, then it wasn’t her right to deny her that. But if there was any chance she could yet draw a smile from a filly who needed it more than anypony she knew, she’d find it. “I don’t want to get you in trouble, but would you... like me to walk home with you?”

“...if you want to,” Silver Spoon murmured, turning away and heading down the stairs. Ruby didn’t really need to give it any contemplation, and Silver Spoon glanced over as the filly cheerily bounded up beside her before she even made it down the ramp. “Hmph. Persistent, aren’t you...”

“Hey, there’s a little bit of that attitude coming back!” Ruby quipped, sullen eyes meeting a cheeky smile with the radiant grin being the victor. “I saw that!” Ruby cried leaping in front of Silver Spoon and cutting off her advance.

“Saw what?” the filly replied, finding enough energy to tinge her voice with exasperation, though she couldn’t even say if it was feigned or not.

“That was almost a smile.” Ruby grew slightly uncomfortable as Silver Spoon did exactly the opposite, frowning and furrowing her brow as she fell into deep thought, mystified by Ruby’s utter focus on her needs, rather than her own.

I’ve been... giving nothing all day, fighting your efforts to make me happy with what little strength I have left, and yet... all you want in return is a... a smile? Is there really so much worth in something so simple? “...was not.”

“Don’t even try to deny it! You nearly smiled, Silver Spoon!” Ruby defended, not budging an inch and grinning even wider to combat the severe case of mugwump that seemed to be afflicting her friend, tentative though the title was.

Stubborness too? It’s almost comforting. Something I’m used to, at least... “So what if it was?” Silver Spoon replied, attempting to move around the unbearably perky pink unicorn of obstruction but failing as the mobile roadblock repositioned herself. “Is that really such a big deal?”

“Uh, yeah? When I’ve been trying to squeeze one out of your uptight little face for the last hour or two, then yes, Silver Spoon, it is,” Ruby chuckled. “Come on, you know you want to.”

“...fine. Here.” Not a single tooth wasn’t shown in the most ridiculous, borderline creepy, smile Ruby had ever seen. It was not befitting a classy mare like Silver Spoon, and though it lasted but a moment, the deranged grin succeeded in causing no end of mirth for Ruby, who promptly fell to the ground in a heap of giggles. With the living barrier taken care of, Silver Spoon continued on her way, but from eyes that barely managed to crack open, so great was the life-giving relief of laughter, Ruby could see that which she’d been pulling for all afternoon. It was faint, it was small, and it was definitely reluctant, but it was a genuine smile, and it was all Ruby needed to make the last few hours worth her while.

Rumble slowly opened his eyes to a dark room. Disoriented, he shifted ever so slightly, planning to sit up until a throbbing pain lanced through his head, starting at the center of his forehead and shooting through to his spine, and he remembered why it was that he wasn’t at school, even though it was well into the afternoon. His eyes remained closed as he lifted a leaden hoof to his head, even the slightest pressure from his exploratory touch increasing the pain while simultaneously alerting him that falling off the barn had left him with a soreness all along his back and legs, and that’s to say nothing of his snout. There were good days, and there were bad days, but Rumble couldn’t remember the last time he felt so close to crippled.

“Ugh... I wish my head would just do me a favor and fall off,” he murmured with a groan, draping a hoof across his eyes and wincing as the headache intensified in proportion to his wakefulness. “Thunderlane, you always warned me that dealing with girls would be a lot of work, but I never thought it’d be so hazardous to my health...” He paused, falling silent as a rueful smile slowly grew. “I wonder... if it makes me crazy that I’d still like to see her...”

“Yer... way too... too nice t’ me...” Rumble hadn’t had a reason to keep his eyes open before, but at the sound of his angel’s voice, soft, timid, and gentle enough not to spurn the throbbing in his skull any further, he slowly removed his hoof eyeshield to find Applebloom sitting at the edge of the bed, averting her gaze. Ah’d ask how he feels, but it’s painfully obvious. Ah’d ask if he forgives me, but ah know he’d say he already has. Ah’d... offer t’ let ‘im whack me back, but ah know he wouldn’t dream o’ doin’ somethin’ like that, so... what can ah say? Ah can’t hardly stand t’ look at ‘im, after everythin’ that’s happened ‘cause of me...

“Applebloom?” The filly glanced over her shoulder briefly before turning away again, too ashamed at having bedridden her newest friend after only a day to dare maintain eye contact. Rumble couldn’t help but let a soft grunt escape as he dragged himself into a sitting position, closing his eyes as the room spun. I’d ask how she feels, but it’s clear she’s upset. I’d ask why, but I think I know... I’d tell her it isn’t her fault, but... it is. But I have to say something... Summoning his strength, he opened his mouth to speak, to comfort, to find some way to ease the filly’s guilt, but as she slowly turned to face him, he noticed something clutched to the filly's chest, and he remained silent as she made her offering.

Without a word, Applebloom set down the card she’d made upon Rumble’s lap and turned away, knowing that even if she had made it the most flashy, dazzling paper in all of Equestria, it couldn’t properly convey her truest feelings. And yet, in that she was, perhaps, quite mistaken, because the final touches she’d made caught Rumble’s eye, his heart, and reaffirmed within the colt that the wracking pain making it hard for his eyes to focus was well worth the cost. A pink lace border formed a frame for something more profound than any message Applebloom could have scrawled within; drawn in glitter glue was a single, large heart that contained two names, one sign.

“Applebloom + Rumble...” Rumble could have tried to stave off the blush that rose to his cheeks as he read the inscription aloud, but what would that accomplish? He slowly opened the card and silently read over the contents, the blush deepening at the blunt honesty infused with an affection to match.

“Rumble,

I’m not gonna say I like you, ‘cause that would be too easy, but since today has been hard enough for you, I’ll admit I couldn’t stop thinking about you in class. I still feel right horrible for hitting you upside the head, and if tomorrow goes any worse, I’ll whack myself good so we can both be miserable. How does that sound?

- Applebloom”

Ah can almost hear ‘im laughin’... What was ah thinkin’, writin’ all that? Doesn’t even... come close t’ showin’ what ah meant properly...

Applebloom, you... you showed exactly what you meant before you even wrote the words. Rumble couldn’t have guessed that a single piece of paper could mean so much, and he clutched his treasure to his chest for a few seconds before realizing that the true treasure was seated beside him. It was possible that what he was thinking would be too much or that it might land him in trouble with Applejack, but he couldn't simply do nothing as the one who never ceased to fill him with wonder sat alone, steeped in sadness while his heart was overflowing with gratitude.

Ignoring the aches in his limbs and pounding in his head, Rumble drew back the covers and sat down behind the filly, slowly wrapping his hooves around her waist and squeezing gently. Having been steeped in doubt, worried that his silence was his nice way of rejecting her feeble apology, Applebloom was midway through caving to the urge to run, but as she felt the colt’s kind embrace, follow shortly after by the sensation of his soft coat pressing against her back, she found herself unwilling to leave.

Soothed by the gentle beat of Rumble’s heart, awed by the colt’s forgiveness even in the midst of his own pain, and tired of suppressing an affection that seemed to grow by the hour, Applebloom accepted the forward act as the honest gesture it was, and slowly, hesitantly, placed her hoof over those wrapped around her. It was far more intimate than most would dictate acceptable, but Rumble could only emulate what he had seen, and his intentions were as pure as the tears beading in the corners of the eyes of a colt who was far more sensitive than most knew. And yet, as appreciation and pain mingled together, dripping from his muzzle and trickling down the filly’s back, a tender increase in pressure as the filly also dropped her facade and leaned back a little deeper reassured Rumble that he was not for his tears despised.

“So much fer... fer holdin’ hooves first, huh?” Applebloom whispered, both to herself and to Rumble who couldn’t help but let slip a small laugh, both of them blushing brightly in the darkness of the room. “You sure move fast, Rumble. Ah can’t say mah sister would approve o’ this, but...” she trailed off, pressing firmly as the colt’s hold loosened and threatened to pull away. “Ah never said ah minded it, so... just fer a bit.”

“As... as friends, right?”

“O’ course! You learn as fast as ya move, it seems...” she quipped, her false confidence melting away as she fell silent in his hooves. It ain’t right, hidin’ it like this. Ah mean, ah know it’s soon; it ain’t been more than twenty four hours! But ah... A sudden flux of body heat bid Rumble lift his head, and he soon found himself caught in the blaze as Applebloom turned, making eye contact for just a moment before the bashful filly averted her gaze, dropping the final barrier and laying her head against Rumble’s chest. “Unless... unless you wanted... t’ be, uh... ya know, somethin’ a little...”

Uncomfortable, stunned silence ensued due to one colt having his mind blown and one filly swearing she had lost hers. Whoa, nelly! Ah didn’t mean t’ go that far! A kind word, maybe a teeny little nuzzle or somethin’, that’s all ah was thinkin’! An’ then ah had t’ go an’... an’ ask that? What am ah supposed t’ do if he says yes, huh? Ah’m not ready, an’ Applejack would... Oh, ponyfeathers... ah wanna know what he’s gonna say, though! Don’t go all silent on me now... C’mon, Rumble, say somethin’! Anythin’!

“Uh...”

Ok, anythin’ but that. Ah ain’t a scholar, but even ah can come up with somethin’ better than... Sadly, Rumble’s hesitation to find something slightly more articulate than the response that first came to mind cost them their moment, and left Applebloom in lack of an answer as Flitter and Cloudchaser, having watched most of the scene from the cracked open doorway, let their excitement get the better of them. “What’ n’ tar... ow, that’s bright!” Applebloom cried as her eyes, adjusted to the darkness, were blasted with the flash of a camera. Falling back as if shot, she fell in a heap atop Rumble, giving two gleeful sister’s a few more candid pictures before fleeing from the wrath of a filly bereaved of her special moment. Rumble lay dazed, listening to the shouts and crashes as Applebloom gave them both a good chase through the house, and as he shielded his eyes from the light filtering in through the open door, he couldn’t help but wonder how he hadn’t become friends with Applebloom before; she fit right in.

Not having anything else to do until the tavern opened, and fairly sure Spike would be busy helping Twilight catch up after having been out most of the previous day at the farm, Sweetie Belle simply decided to mingle after splitting with Ruby, not having any particular desire to head home. She made small talk with the ponies around town as she went, accepting praise for her performances and thanking them for their ever present support, even giving a few a capella performances simply for the fun of it and refusing the bits offered to her for her outstanding vocals. Charity was fine, and it wasn’t that she couldn’t use the money, but the smiles she received for her songs were a reward in their own right, and Rarity was the only mare she knew who could pull of selfish generosity. Sweetie Belle chuckled softly as she waved goodbye to the small crowd that had gathered in town before wandering off towards home, the sight of the front door bringing with it a flood of thoughts and memories of the morning.

Spike, I really hope your plan to throw them off our tracks works, even if it will only delay dealing with the problem. Oh well... Ok, so greeting, room, solitude, music, in that order. Her plan was going smoothly right up to the point where she set hoof in the door, at which point she found herself halted by a scene most peculiar. Magnum and Garden Wishes seemed to be having a contest as to which of them could sit up the straightest and best imitate a statue, whereas Rarity, seated opposite, was daintily sipping tea while the young filly stood in the doorway.

“Welcome home, Sweetie Belle! Do come in, and be sure you shut the door. It’s a bit drafty out,” Rarity called out, her smooth voice only adding to the filly’s mounting confusion.

Ok, so much for THAT plan. What is Rarity doing here, why is she so happy, and what the hay has gotten into mom and dad? Knowing that keeping her sister waiting was the worst possible option, Sweetie Belle quickly closed the door and trotted over, sitting down beside her elder sibling and shooting her parents a disconcerted glance. “Rarity, what happened to them? They look like they’ve seen a ghost or something,” Sweetie whispered, peering up at Rarity. Wiping her mouth daintily with a napkin, Rarity set her tea down on the table and taught her little sister in a much gentler manner the lesson her parents had learned earlier that morning; nopony messes with Sweetie Belle and walks away unscathed.

“It came to my attention that our dear parents were being a mite too restrictive in their measures pertaining to your love life, and I took it upon myself to have a little talk with them. As you can see, they were quite receptive,” Rarity quipped, beaming across the room at two shell-shocked ponies.

“Are they even breathing?”

“Hmmm, that is a good question, Sweetie. It’s been awhile since I checked, really. They’ve been like this the better part of the afternoon, so I suppose it would behoove me to find out. First things first, though! Father, would you please repeat to Sweetie Belle what you so graciously told me earlier today? I would be ever so grateful...”

“B-but Rarity, you...” Magnum began after a few false starts before any semblance of amiability disappeared from Rarity’s voice as it dropped to a commanding growl.

“Ever... so... grateful. Father.”

“Sweetie Belle is free to be interested in whoever she chooses so long as she continues to pursue the continuance of her talents and adhere to standards befitting a proper mare!” Magnum replied automatically, shutting up as soon as the sentence had come to an end and all but begging for mercy as he clung to his wife.

“There, you see?” Rarity quipped, clapping her hooves together and levitating her tea back to her side. “There’s nothing a lady cannot handle. I do hope you didn’t worry too much over our parents’ little oversight, and you really should have come to me sooner, dear.”

Come to you sooner? You broke our parents! In a day! No, less than that! Still... “I’m sorry, Rarity. It’s just... you’ve been dealing with a lot too recently, and I didn’t want to burden you with any of my problems. After all, a lady has to stand up for herself, right? I’d have figured out something... eventually.”

“Oh, you make your sister proud, Sweetie Belle,” Rarity declared, pulling her into an affectionate squeeze before releasing her and taking another sip of tea. “However, every girl has her limits, and even the most generous pony will need assistance every now and again. Feel free to call on me anytime, alright?” Her sister’s shining eyes spoke volumes while her muzzle creased into a grin that spoke more than her words could have, the taste of freedom sweeter than honey.

“At any rate,” she continued, standing upright, “I must take my leave. Father, Mother, do behave yourselves. I would much rather our next get together to be somewhat more jovial, if possible. Oh! And thank you very much for the tea.” Pausing only to give Sweetie Belle a wink, Rarity made straight for the door where she stopped, giving her sister an apologetic smile at her forgetfulness. “How terribly silly of me. I cannot believe I almost forgot! Sweetie Belle, if your new arrangement with our dear parents pleases you, then be sure to say thank you to your special somepony. This was all his idea, really.”

“Wait, Spike was the one who...” Rarity nodded, smiling as the comprehension kicked in. Rarity chose to refrain from mentioning how it wasn’t proper to shove a lady aside, though had she not moved quickly, she would have been bowled over as the filly tore out the door with a new plan for her afternoon. Find Spike, tackle, give him a wet one, in that order. Ready... go!

Books. Spike lived with them, touched them, and had probably inhaled more dust from them than any baby dragon should ever be forced to, but the one thing he hadn’t done much of was reading them. However, upon the discovery, admittance, and acceptance of the irrefutable fact that he liked a filly, and she liked him, the dragon decided to do a little research, which would have been a splendid idea were it not for the fact that he had, regrettably, never gone to school. Thus, all of the relationship books that Twilight had lying around were about as comprehensible as, well, Twilight’s rantings when she was having a poison joke induced spaz attack.

It was because of this that Spike was actually somewhat grateful for the sudden disruption of his solitude, as even though the library easily made room for three more, one of them happened to be the librarian herself. All it took was the sight of Spike attempting to read to send Twilight into a non-poison joke induced spell of crazies, the good kind that usually ended in Spike basically getting to name his terms.

“Spike, are you... yes, you’re reading!” Twilight squealed, snatching him up and twirling a few times before tossing him back onto the couch. “Today just couldn’t get any better! Cerulean, Spike’s reading!”

“Whoa, all sorts of crazy things are happening today,” the blue stallion chuckled, trotting over and examining the title with unconcealed amusement. Hair as white as new fallen snow streaked with teal swished over Cerulean’s eyes momentarily as he laughed, but Spike was well aware that beneath an easy-going, borderline outright stupid exterior lay an undeniable love for Twilight, honed by the overcoming a painful past. This, however, was not the side currently on display. “‘Unraveling the Mystery: Mare Hearts, Volume 1.’ Nice choice, though when you get to the chapter titled ‘Estrus: The Dark Ages,’ you may want to skip it.”

“What, like it’s going to be anything I don’t already know about?” Spike replied with a sarcastic grin before turning back to his teacher. “Twilight, I kind of have a little favor to ask.”

“Anything at all for my student who has finally discovered the licentious wonders of laudable literature! Yeeee!” Spike and Cerulean both found themselves shaking their heads as the lavender unicorn bounced around the main floor like a bunny on a sugar high. Her daughter Dawn, just shy of a year old, eagerly joined in while paying close attention to her ample mane so as to not tread upon it, an oft repeated mistake that ensured a rather uncomfortable face plant.

“She never gets that excited when I read,” Cerulean murmured, looking at Spike with a fake pouting face that garnered nought but a teasing smirk. “Heh, it’s ok, though. You can make her crazy by reading, I just... have to quote the dictionary with graceful elocution. Your teacher is an odd one, you know that?”

“And you married her,” the young dragon countered, a line he often used but still remained valid. “Oh geez, she’s going into nuzzle mode,” Spike chuckled as Twilight ceased her hopping and instead clutched one of her favorite novels to her chest, rubbing her face against it like a pampered kitten looking for love. “Twi, as much as you seem to be loving that book, I really would like to have a serious conversation about, you know... Dating and stuff...” Twilight paused momentarily, blinked once as if coming out of a daze, and promptly gave her tome a little more love before levitating it back to the shelf with a dreamy look in her eyes.

“Sorry about that, I got a little carried away,” Twilight offered with a nervous chuckle, trotting back over and sitting on the couch next to her student. “Now then, would you like to talk in private upstairs, or down here where Cerulean can butt in at any time,” she quipped, casting a fond eye over at her stallion, currently faking chest pains due to indignation and tragically expiring on the spot. Dawn immediately chastised her father for sleeping during play time and piled a few books on his head in reprimand, which worked just as well as any defibrillator.

“Here is fine, I think,” Spike laughed, not having anything terribly embarrassing on his mind, though there was one question nagging at him more than all the rest, and it had far more reaching consequences than any boneheaded blunders he could make talking to Sweetie Belle. It was something he’d given a lot of thought about ever since the dragon migration, but upon finding himself falling for Sweetie Belle, it moved from the back burner to the forefront of his mind. First things first, though. Survival tactics! “Ok, let’s see, um... Top ten things you never say or do to a mare.”

“Well, since I’m pretty sure you’ve coined them all at some point, why don’t you answer that one, Cerulean?” Twilight replied with a warming smile, eliciting an exasperated sigh from her husband who just couldn’t seem to catch a break.

“Hmmm, at your age... Never comment negatively on their weight, mane, overall physique, or breath. Even if it smells like they spent all morning feasting on refuse, you do not, under any circumstances, comment on it. Unless, of course, they ask you to, in which case you’re already bound for trouble, so you might as well give it to them straight.” Spike caught the way Twilight was glaring at Cerulean, realizing he was clearly speaking from experience on the last point.

“I do not have morning breath,” Twilight muttered, folding her hooves across her chest.

“Yeah, you kinda...” Spike started, shuddering as a sudden burst of magic coated him in a fine layer of chilling snow, one of Cerulean’s specialties.

“And strike one, Spike!” Cerulean declared, cutting the dragon off mid-sentence. “Are you even paying attention? Seriously, this is important. Respect their boundaries and personal space, even if they shift on a daily basis, much like their temper. Mares are like... waves. You want to ride them, or you’ll get crushed by them, and...”

“Cerulean, choose your words carefully, please,” Twilight muttered with a sigh, giving the stallion a few seconds pause before he realized his analogy may not have come across as eloquent as he had meant for it to, for which he offered a cheeky grin.

“Duly noted. Let’s see, that’s what, five? Don’t lie,” Cerulean stressed, still smiling but his eyes conveying a seriousness that Spike couldn’t overlook. “For the sake of all that is good and right, do not lie, because they are smarter than you, they will find out, and oh, there will be consequences. Now is when things get tricky,” he continued, brightening considerably. “Fillies like to be complimented on their appearance, but not all the time and only pertaining to certain areas... mostly. Given your age, and the fact that you’re fairly bright, I’d say you know what I’m talking about.”

“Cerulean, if I wanted common sense, I’d have asked for it,” Spike sighed, rolling his eyes and expecting something a little more substantial. Sadly, there was no magical cure-all for being a male, as Spike had naively hoped, nor any magic known to ponydom; not even a physical change of body could cure the mind, and thus, Spike was forced to take what he could get, giving the stallion his attention once more.

“Uh, you did, Spike,” Cerulean fired back with a grin. “Listen, fillies are just like anypony else, but they require a little... ok, a lot of extra effort. Most of the time, the right option will be pretty self explanatory, but the difference lies in whether or not you choose to follow your own desires, or put their needs before your own. Ask yourself that simple question, and you’ll choose the right option more often than not, and the filly will likely find it fitting to excuse your other blunders. Not forget, but excuse.”

“Way to instill an aspiring bachelor with confidence, Cerulean,” Twilight replied in a droll tone. “Unfortunately, he’s being fairly honest, Spike. Celestia knows you’ve seen me have some... moments.”

“It’s true I don’t have to worry about Sweetie Belle plunging Ponyville into chaos by making it rain poison joke, at least...” I was planning on asking Twilight to help with Sweetie Belle’s parents, but that’s not an issue either. Still, I wonder who would have done better? Pfff, duh, Rarity, but I’d still like to know what she would have done. “What should I do if, say, the parents of the filly I like are somewhat less understanding than I’d hope, and let’s just assume for a moment that if they found out their filly had feelings for a dragon, she’d likely be forbidden to see him. What then?” There was a moment of silence as everypony took a moment to shift from good-humored to dead serious, during which time Twilight’s intolerance alarm initiated the fury klaxons while her core temperature began to rise, a little dash of bloodlust acting as the spoon that stirred her magic into a frenzy.

“Well,” she started calmly, “first, I would drop everything I’m doing, be it research, pleasure, or even a nice dinner with Princess Celestia. Second, I would march, not teleport, but march, to said pony’s house. Third, I would blast down their door and give that sorry excuse for a pony an incendiary lecture on the finer points of tolerance that would leave more than just their ears on fire!” There was a pause as everypony sat stunned a moment before lucidity seemed to make a temporary resurgence against the rage. “Hypothetically, of course.” Regardless of the calm tone she used to follow up her diatribe, the subsequent growl and flaring nostrils betrayed her true sentiments, and thus Dawn took the appropriate action and dove for cover behind her recently constructed book fort.

“Uh oh, mommy gonna go boom!” Dawn squealed, her astute analysis galvanizing her father into action.

“Skwoo dis, no wants!” Cerulean yelped, feigning foal speak and diving across the room in an attempt to take shelter with Dawn, who was none-too-pleased with the invasion.

“No room, dad!” Dawn strained, pressing with both hooves in an attempt to expel the invading stallion while Twilight took a few moments to cool down, watching the scene with reluctant amusement. “Make yous own fort!”

“Fine!” Cerulean pouted, trudging sullenly away before plying his skill with ice magic and sealing himself inside of an igloo. Dawn glanced at her feeble wall of books and then back at the all encompassing half-sphere fortress of ice before deciding that her father may have been a better ally than she gave him credit for. She was about to beg for entry before a short burst of magic from Twilight’s horn blasted away the front end, and Dawn chose to remain tucked away within her little castle, as it was clearly less challenging to the mare than an indignant Cerulean’s frosty barrier. “Bad Twi! Broked my fort!”

“Uh, hate to interrupt, Twilight, but aren’t we getting a little off topic?” Spike interjected before the amorous gaze became too strong to disrupt. After shooting Cerulean a sly grin, she returned to the couch and sat down once more beside Spike, mostly calm.

“Is that true, then? Sweetie Belle’s parents wouldn’t want you with her because you’re a dragon?” Judging by his teacher’s peeved state and not wishing to see Sweetie Belle’s parents tormented any more than they already had, Spike proceeded to try and wrap the conversation up.

“Well, they don’t want her with anypony from Ponyville, it sounds like. I know it’s not my place to butt in and try change everything, but...”

“But nothing! That’s ridiculous!” Twilight exclaimed, pounding the cushions with a hoof. “I’ve met some of the best ponies I know here in Ponyville. Why would they make her look elsewhere if she finds somepony she cares about?”

“Something stupid about her being famous someday and wanting someone who’s good enough and blah blah blah,” Spike replied, finding himself every bit as passionately opposed to the situation as Twilight was, if not more so.

“...you’re kidding, right?”

“Nah, but watching you freak out was funny,” Spike chortled, receiving an exasperated sigh and an eye roll from the excitable unicorn. “Rarity already gave them a dressing down they won’t soon forget. She gave me an out after they promised to let Sweetie Belle pursue romance on her own terms, and trust me, I did not wanna stick around for round two...”

“Rightfully so,” Twilight snorted, taking some comfort that, while she wouldn’t get to vent, the matter had most definitely been handled if Rarity was the one ranting. “So... you and Sweetie Belle will be official soon, then?”

“I dunno...” Spike mumbled, twiddling his claws nervously as he thought about having to actually ask. Just thinking about asking is hard enough, but having to say it out loud? And clearly? Yeah, I’ll say girls are a lot of work, what with their ridiculously high expectations. At least I don’t have to worry about it for a while. “She said she wanted to take it slow, and...” Spike began when the door slammed open and none other than one ecstatic Sweetie Belle stood in the doorway. Leaping to his feet, Spike trotted a few steps forward, shocked to see the filly but pleasantly surprised nonetheless.

“Sweetie Belle? What’re you doing here?” Her chest heaving from the run, her eyes crazed and shining with the fires of adoration laced with gleeful anticipation, and a heart full to bursting, Sweetie Belle repeated her mantra a few more times internally before galloping inside, her mind and heart pulsing with one accord.

Tackle, kiss, repeat. Tackle, kiss, repeat! “Tackle~!” Spike watched with wonder as the filly sailed through the air in slow motion, and he found himself acutely aware of her hooves as they wrapped around his neck. Her eyes slowly closed as her mouth drew closer, and as Spike fell back, he brought his claws around her in a mutual embrace, noted the sudden rush of heat flooding his body, and closed his eyes. It was finally happening.

Spackle, also Spelled "Family"

Chapter 9: Spackle, also Spelled “Family”

Earth ponies, Scootaloo soon found, could not be judged by their physical size. While yes, the colt grinning like a maniac just five taunting hoof lengths away was breathing every bit as hard as she, he had managed to stay just enough ahead of her that whatever notion of payback for putting her in a position where a kiss even crossed her mind as a plausible option, and the depriving her of such a wondrous, disgusting, blessedly harrowing experience, was never able to come to term. Noting with faint amusement that the small trickle of drool from her mouth, currently too exhausted from shouting to close, wasn’t very ladylike, Scootaloo drove thoughts of returning home from her mind just a little longer and grinned, wiping her muzzle with the back of her hoof as she leered at Pipsqueak, meeting his taunting eyes with fierce determination. Sadly, her weakness to all things feminine presented her an easy target, even to somepony as disconnected as Pipsqueak.

“I know I can be a dreadful charmer, lass, but it ain’t proper t’ drool over yer captain.”

Oh ho, so he wants to play like that, does he? Well, I can win a battle of wits any day! And I don’t even have to use “Charm!” “Ahoy, what’s this drivel ye be spoutin’?” she replied in turn, narrowing her gaze and homing in on her target. “Don’t mistake me great thirst fer desire; it ain’t proper fer a gentlecolt t’ flatter himself.”

“Aye, indeed not! Where is the brigand who would call ‘imself a gentlecolt, eh?” Pipsqueak fired back, whirling around and frantically looking for the would-be intruder on their rather joyous battle of jibes. Seizing her opportunity, Scootaloo summoned her dark powers of lithe dexterity and crept forward towards the unsuspecting colt with ninja-like prowess. “Hah, the coward’s fled! Good thing, too. He’d have...”

“Gotcha!” Scootaloo cried, launching herself in a stunning flying tackle and again coming out on top as they tumbled to the dust. Neither embarrassed nor giving her any reason to gloat, Pipsqueak met the triumphant filly with a reproving look for a girl lacking in a basic grasp of fundamental common sense.

“...ye can’t be both a ninja and a pirate, lass. It violates the laws o’ nature.”

“Huh? Since when?” Scootaloo defended, clearly impervious to logic.

“Ye make me sad, turncoat,” Pipsqueak lamented, shaking his head sadly. “First ye reveal yer true form as an alluring temptress, the mythical Siren, an’ now yer tellin’ me ye ain’t a pirate, but a ninja? It’s almost too much fer this captain t’ bear...” A hoof over his eyes accented his comically serious tone and level-headed rationality to form ridiculous harmony perfectly fitting for the colt, but Scootaloo was not by this moved.

“I’ll be sure to inform the first mate of your tragic demise. Now, why can’t I be a ninja pirate?”

“Yer askin’ why somepony who sails into the high seas with a flag o’ war flyin’ high an’ cannons set t’ plunder can’t creep quietly in the shadows, stabbin’ ponies like an honorless cad an’ never makin’ a name fer himself? Yer right, they’re so similar, I got the two confused.”

“...you’re taking this really seriously, aren’t you?”

“Tis a captain’s job to know his crew, lass,” Pipsqueak explained, straight-faced and serious. “For example, since your feminine wiles have proven to be invaluable in combat, I may call upon them when confronted with a particularly vicious monster.”

“Sorry, that skill is event triggered only,” Scootaloo declared, trotting a short distance away and purposefully swishing her tail, easily flustering the hapless colt who continued to lay on his back and stare. Even if it had been the intended result, it still made Scootaloo a little uncomfortable, and the realization that she was less than presentable gave her an easy out while simultaneously supplying her with an excuse to scratch her girly itch.

“Captain, permission to head home and freshen up?” she asked, examining the dust on her forelegs and quite aware of the sweat still clinging to her coat. Sadly, pirates were not known for their hygiene.

“What’s this yer blatherin’ about? Nay, ye can wash when ye drop, deckhoof. There be adventure aplenty just waitin’ fer the takin’.”

“Siren’s are exempt to orders, remember?”

“But...” Pipsqueak started, falling silent again as Scootaloo continued in avid defense of cleanliness, a matter which she spoke of with surprising conviction, even to herself.

“Listen, ninja’s and ladies are different. If you want me at maximum battle capacity, then you have to let me wash up. You can’t expect me to charm anypony looking like this, right?”

“...I still think you’re pretty.”

“I... uh...” I totally walked right into that. Dang it, and he didn’t even say it with his pirate voice... Grrr, I really want to like hearing that, and I do, but why does it bother me? There’s got to be a reason...

“Just a little longer, Scootaloo?” Scootaloo peered back at the colt, shocked by his sudden lapse into seriousness and all too aware of the telltale signs of desperation contained within the statement. Whether he was attempting to use charm or some other method to control her, Scootaloo couldn’t say, but she wouldn’t be able to sleep if she simply left at that moment. For just a split moment, a side of Pipsqueak emerged that Scootaloo didn’t recognize nor understand, but given that he had pulled her back from the depths, she would be remiss if she backed out now for something as petty as a shower. Girliness could wait.

“Sure, Pipsqueak. I can stay for a bit...” Scootaloo replied gently, trotting over and stopping just short of the colt. Were you always this... adorable? You’re making it so hard not to hug you right now... C’mon, Scoots, time to cheer up a pirate. “All right, put on your game face, Captain! We’ve got adventures to make!”

“Now yer talkin’!” Pipsqueak cheered, springing to life and leaping in a circle. “What’s yer fancy, deckhoof? Zombies? Fort raid? Treasure Huntin’?” What game was played was of little consequence for one orange feathered filly, as regardless of what fictional disaster required their immediate attention was fine by her - as long as it brought smiles along with near dismemberment, Scootaloo would call the adventure a success. An hour soon passed, and on towards two as the sky began to shift towards an evening gold, and it was Scootaloo’s sudden cessation of movement and lifting of her gaze towards the sky that let Pipsqueak know that the day’s adventure was coming to an end.

I wonder... if she’s already starting to get bored. I guess it would make sense... “Yer free t’ go, deckhoof,” he quipped, roguish grin still intact even as he scrambled to figure out what to do with the rest of his day. “Thank ye fer... stickin’ around.”

“Thanks for yet another awesome adventure, and... thanks for putting up with me.” Having expected a rushed replied and a gust of wind as she took flight, her similarly sentimental response caught the colt off guard, even more so as she cantered over. Must resist... urge to hug... Wait a second... why? It was revolutionary. Try though she may, no solid reason as to why she was resisting the urge came to mind. Scootaloo looked at Pipsqueak. Pipsqueak stared at Scootaloo. Scootaloo shifted closer. Pipsqueak froze in place. Scootaloo awkwardly thrust out her hooves and wrapped them around Pipsqueak’s neck, only to suddenly realize exactly what that little nagging voice was; her sanity.

Ohmygoshohmygosh! What am I doing? No, no, no! No hugs! Hooves, come back right now! The only movement that either pony made was an imperceptible increase in heart rate and sudden internal combustion. What the hay, it’s just like before! My cheeks, my chest... everything feels funny and hot! As Scootaloo railed against her mind for tricking her in such away, her other thoughts took a back seat as she was forced to contemplate one simple question. I wonder... what he’s thinking right now?

...Sirens aren’t so bad. Finally managing to grab the reins, Scootaloo yanked her hooves away and stood staring in a daze at a colt wrapping her heart in knots without the slightest signs of effort.

What... what the hay is going on? I... I feel...

“Scootaloo?”

“Igottagoseeyoulaterbye!” Adrenaline pumped new life into her wings, sending an orange dart streaking across the sky and leaving one confused, infatuated colt pondering the intricacies of Siren-pirate relationships. Scootaloo, on the other hoof, was desperately trying to figure out a plausible explanation for her hooves and other things, namely her traitorous muzzle, acting of their own accord and generally causing more mischief than even she and Pipsqueak could cause in town. As she landed outside her house, still kicking and screaming against the thought that she, Scootaloo, would be so girly as to be overcome by something as mushy as liking somepony, she decided that maybe she should try talking her mother in the hopes of figuring something out.

“Hey, Scoots!” Storm called out, breaking her reverie as she closed the door behind her. “I just wanted to apol...”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Where’s mom? This is important!”

“Uh... I think she’s upstairs, why?” he replied, shrugging and glad to see she wasn’t too terribly upset; he’d only spent most of the afternoon worrying about it. He received no response as her shower was put off even further as she raced up the stairs, down the hall and stopped outside a door adorned by both her mother and father’s cutie marks.

“Mom?” she called out, knocking a few times. “Is it safe?”

“I suppose,” Grace called out groggily. Having been woken from her nap, the mare sat up as Scootaloo let herself in, slammed the door with a bang, and hopped onto the edge of the bed. A single glance of her daughter’s elevated state garnered the mother’s full attention as Scootaloo laid out some questions that needed answers.

“Ok, first things first. Do you know what Storm did to me today?” Scootaloo inquired, shooting a sullen glare towards the door. It was a sensitive subject, and thus Grace responded carefully.

“Before I answer, Scootaloo, I have a question for you. Did you know that your brother spent most all of the afternoon worried sick over how terrible he may have made you feel?” It wasn’t much of a stretch to assume the answer to be an emphatic “no, that never crossed my mind,” judging by the blank look of bewilderment with which Scootaloo stared straight ahead. Hearing her mother speak plainly, and with a gentleness devoid of her usual ever-present refinement and willingness to turn anything and everything into a playful jibe, impressed upon the filly the seriousness with which her mother regarded the event.

“Scootaloo, dear, this family has seen more than enough turmoil, and I’d rather not watch it be torn apart again,” Grace murmured, holding out her hooves and gratefully accepting Scootaloo into her embrace. “I believe I may be partly to blame for what happened today, as I thought that some gentle prodding from your brother may somehow serve to encourage your feminine interests, and for that I must apologize. Whether or not you decide to use the training I’ve been giving you is entirely up to you, and while I will admit that I don’t mind the idea of Storm pressing you to that end, what he did today was too intrusive for me to give my blessing.”

Oh... so he wasn’t just being an idiot. I guess that makes sense... “If I really wanted to stop all of the girly training and stuff, would you let me?” There was a brief silence that ended in a soft sigh as Grace nodded, pulling back and making eye contact so that Scootaloo wouldn’t be able to deny the truth in her words.

“Scootaloo, the main reason I have continued to press teaching you refinement is to equip you for experiences you may face later in life,” she explained calmly, ignoring her own desires on the subject. “There are many ways in which being able to carry yourself as a lady can give you the power to overcome the hardships of life. If I truly believed you hated the things I ask of you, then I would have stopped long ago. You’re strong, my dear child, and I should think that if you really wanted out, you’d have put your hoof down. Since you didn’t, however,” she continued with just the faintest hint of a smile, “I took it upon myself to... encourage such tendencies, shall we say. Do you really hate it?”

“N-no, not...” Scootaloo stammered, cringing as she was forced to come to terms with what was really going on inside. “It... scares me.” Of the reasons Grace suspected her daughter might be resisting her feminine side, fear hadn’t hardly crossed her mind.

“Do you... have any idea why?”

“No, I don’t!” Scootaloo shouted frantically, the sudden increase of volume from her own voice simultaneously cowing her into quietude as an uncontrollable shiver raced through her frame. “I’ve thought about it tons, but I just don’t... I don’t get it. I never had to think about it before when I just didn’t care about girly things, but then I started to, and I... it just...” And then, like being struck by lightning, her mind put the pieces together. Fright became numbing terror as she bolted from the room, nearly bowling Storm over as she raced down the stairs, up the hall and into her room, the closest thing she had to a safe haven, but not even the adrenaline could let her escape her own mind.

“Scootaloo? Hey, Scoots, what’s wrong? Talk to me!” Storm’s voice barely registered as she clasped both hooves to the side of her head, fighting tooth and hoof against the fear running rampant through her heart.

“I’m... I’m sorry, Storm... Not right now...” Her whispers unheard, Scootaloo sealed herself inside her bathroom, and as she switched on the flow of water and stepped into the soothing cascade, the voices both internal and external faded away as she let the water wash away the dirt and sweat, finding some measure of solace in the cleansing flood. Outside, Storm continued to plead with her for a chance to understand, but seconds turned to minutes, and it wasn’t until the heavy hoof of his father setting gently on the stallion’s shoulder that he lowered his voice and ceased pounding the door.

“I can’t... stand seeing her like this. This is my fault...” Storm murmured, shaken by her condition. A rift had been driven between them once, and he couldn’t bear to see it happen again, but even as distraught as he was, he recognized the wisdom in his father’s calm words.

“Indeed... Let her be for now, Storm. She will come to you when she’s ready.”

“What makes you so sure?” he replied, wanting to believe but unable to forget the fear in his sister’s eyes when she had ran into him.

“When everything fell apart, it was you she turned to,” Quakehoof recalled with a rueful smile. “You two have always had a tight bond, and there’s no way a single incident will undo that bond. After all, you are the one who taught her how to fly, and you may yet teach her to soar.” Thankful for his father’s encouragement and determined to make things right, Storm followed him out, still shaken but resolute that when the time came, he would be whatever his sister need him to be.

For somepony who Applebloom assumed only chased slow moving, puffy white tufts due to her name, she quickly learned that Cloudchaser was nimble, agile, and infuriatingly difficult to catch. On the other hoof, it was that same speed that made Applebloom the new target, and the predator became prey after just a few short minutes. Clearly, Flitter and Cloudchaser had found their synergy as sisters, because they very quickly worked with one accord to snatch her breath away and give it to the mirth monster with copious amounts of tickling. Even as Applebloom cried for it to stop, begging and pleading for a chance to breathe, she couldn’t really say she minded. It was like she’d already been accepted as family, the sense of welcome almost palpable and good natured antics bringing with them a sense of familiarity, along with a reassurance that maybe, just maybe, they would all mesh with Applejack and the rest far better than she had hoped. But for now, oxygen would be nice.

“Oh dear, I think she’s starting to turn blue,” Flitter murmured, withdrawing her hoof and giving Cloudchaser a pleading glance. Sure enough, her cheeks had grown tired of their oft rosy hue and were trying a different shade, and with one final belly rub, Cloudchaser withdrew her hoof, laughing as the filly immediately flopped to her side, clutching her ribs and gasping her air, squealing in between.

“Eh, I’ll let you off easy this time, Applebloom. I hope you learned a valuable little lesson?” Cloudchaser chortled, smiling warmly as the filly lasso’d her self-control and sought to calm herself enough to speak.

“Ah... ah think ah... learned that... breathin’ is... real nice!” she managed, threatening to dredge a fresh wave of giggles to the surface. “Ah shoulda known... better than... t’ mess with... with apple pie!” It was too much, seeing the confusion on the filly’s faces, and Applebloom couldn’t help but have one last round of cachinnation, any hopes of standing upright negated and odds of movement anytime soon quite low. Taking compassion on the filly, and seeing that it was Cloudchaser who had largely been blamed for their woeful breach of etiquette in disturbing the tender scene, Flitter scooped the bubbly filly up and flew back to Rumble’s room, setting Applebloom next to a confused, amused little colt just grateful to see her smiling.

“C’mon, Flitter,” Cloudchaser urged, rolling her eyes as Flitter peeked over the edge of the bed, watching the pair in eager anticipation of further adorableness. “Let’s leave those two alone for a bit. Who knows, maybe they’ll pick up where they left off and we’ll get a few pictures!” Needing no further urging, Flitter released a gleeful though dainty squeal and shot from the room, and after giving both of the younger ponies a roguish grin, Cloudchaser followed in suit, gently closing the door behind her and leaving the two sealed in darkness. Even with his head pounding as it was, Rumble couldn’t help but listen to the breathless music of raw happiness escaping Applebloom’s lips with wonder and relief.

“You know, I’m really happy that you’re getting along so well with my family,” Rumble began, his voice soft but carrying no weight of sadness. “I was a little worried, to be honest. Cloudchaser especially can be a bit much for some ponies...” At the cue for serious conversation, Applebloom put on the brakes and, after a few seconds of forced regulation of her breathing, she sat up, all smiles, and gave Rumble the most amusing “you dunderhead” look he’d seen to date, though he was sure he’d get one better in days to come.

“Are you kiddin’? Yer brother’s right nice and ‘is fillyfriends are about as welcoming as anypony could hope. Now, mah family, on the other hoof... well, we got a few crazies,” she asserted, not as a personal opinion but hard truth. “Mah Granny Smith, fer example. She’s as bright as she is hoppin’ mad. Her actions don’t make a lick o’ sense, an’ then when ya least expect it an’ need it most, ya get smacked up the head with some nugget o’ wisdom that leaves ya reelin’.”

“Quirky isn’t a bad thing, Applebloom.”

“Ah think decidin’ t’ make jam by dressin’ up like a bunny an’ singin’ to it is a little bit beyond quirky,” Applebloom fired back half-heartedly. “An’ don’t even get me started on mah cousin Braeburn. Ah swear, Pinkie Pie has a longer attention span than that one, an’ he can’t just take a hint. Darn near gotta deafin’ him just t’ get him lucid enough fer basic conversation!”

“Applebloom?” Eager for a change of subject, Applebloom gave Rumble her full attention as he treated her argument as he had her clubhouse roof. “You don’t need to worry about being embarrassed during dinner. Family is family. They all have issues, even mine, and you can either laugh with them, or, you know...”

“Hide yer face in shame while hopin’ fer the ground t’ swallow ya?” Rumble’s well meaning stare was accompanied by a slightly reproving frown, though it quickly reverted to a smile as Applebloom yielded, chuckling nervously. “Ah suppose... laughin’ is better. Ah can’t say ah’m not worried ‘bout how Applejack or the rest of mah family is gonna act, but ah’ll hope fer the best, ah guess.”

“Hey, look at that! You’re learning too.”

“Uh huh!” Applebloom shot back, leading to a short-lived staring match that neither of them won, as laughter tends to lead to the shutting of one’s eyes. There’s that feelin’ again. Right strange, how much it keeps poppin’ up. It’s kinda nice. Ah think ah’ll name it “love.” A young colt’s laughter trailed off as a filly’s own did the same. Oh, now that ain’t right. Why does it always lead t’ mah thoughts goin’ all mushy? Ah ain’t supposed t’ be thinkin’ ‘bout that word, even. Ah better get back t’ the farm before ah get all cuddly again. “Well, mah sister is probably gettin’ right antzy, what with how long ah’ve been gone. Ah’ll see ya tomorrow?”

“I don’t even get a few days to rest after being deemed worthy by the mallet angel?” Rumble chortled, raising a hoof to his head and grinning all the while.

“What, ya want more sleep? That’ll all you’ve done today!” Applebloom teased in mock disgust, grinning widely as she softened her tone. “Take whatever time ya need, Rumble. Ah’ll talk t’ mah sis and work somethin’ out. Fer now, just...”

“Just kiss already!” The shout from the far end of the room caused both young ponies to freeze, much to the invader’s deep disappointment.

“Cloudchaser, leave them be...” Flitter urged Cloudchaser, who was poking her head through the doorway with a camera poised and ready. Cloudchaser simply shook her head stubbornly and defended herself in turn.

“What? No! You don’t see something this sweet every day.”

“Um, actually, we do. Thunderlane is...” Flitter began before Cloudchaser cut her off, avidly shaking her head at her sister’s naivety.

“Too old to qualify. Need pictures,” she declared, pointing to her “trump card” and readying her shutter hoof.

“Fine, since Thunderlane’s affection isn’t good enough for you, I’ll just take all his sweetness for myself,” Flitter shot back, stomping a hoof lightly and giving her sister a warning glare.

“Bah, I’m not worried. We have rules about that,” Cloudchaser said dismissively, sparing a hoof to wave her away before her ears shot upright at her sister’s dastardly breach of love triangle etiquette, apparently not joking about sapping all Thunderlane’s strength for the evening.

“Thunderlane, I need comfort~!”

“Hey! That’s cheating!” Cloudchaser called after her, lowering the camera and peering down the hall. “You can’t invoke the comfort clause without reason!”

“You’re being stubborn!” the equally stubborn mare retorted from inside the livingroom, already poised over a bewildered Thunderlane who hadn’t quite caught up with what was happening or why.

“Cuteness must be captured on film! I’m just trying to do my job as Rumble’s sister; you’re being unreasonable!”

“Am not!”

“Thunderlane! Get your tail in here!” Rumble winced as his door was slammed shut, though silence was much too lofty an expectation as the bickering continued outside with terrible clarity. Not sure whether to chuckle nervously, laugh uproariously, or give the colt a comforting pat on the shoulder, Applebloom shook her head, strangely comforted by the antics. If this was something Rumble lived with every day, than he should at least be able to handle Granny Smith. The colt, now thoroughly embarrassed himself, kindly informed Applebloom that she should likely take her leave, and as she was about to ask why, her unspoken inquiry was answered quite clearly from the living room as Thunderlane’s voice rang out.

“Flitter, what are you... whoa, hey, not here! C’mon, we’ve talked about this! Cloudchaser, that’s not helping! Gah! To my room, now!”

“Storm?” The stallion’s attention was immediately focused on the voice, hesitant and quiet, as it sounded from the hallway. He had spent much of the last hour trying to think of some way to adequately prove to Scootaloo just how sorry he was, but now, as the spotlight awaited his entrance, he felt he might break into a cold sweat at any moment. A gentle, reproving blow to his shoulder helped him refocus, and he gave Rainbow Dash a grateful squeeze before releasing his hold and steeling himself for his fateful meeting. Finding her door cracked open, he took a deep breath, let it out slow, and gave the door a gentle shove, revealing a scene he was entirely unprepared to deal with.

“Y... uh... S... Scootaloo?” Hardly able to believe the filly seated atop the bed was indeed his sister, Storm had to take extra caution not to inadvertently swallow his own tongue in sheer amazement at Scootaloo’s transformation. Scootaloo’s mane wasn’t in its usual hastily brushed forward, nearly pompadour-esque fashion, but had been evenly parted and combed down either side of her neck, revealing the fruit of Scootaloo’s secret efforts to let it grow out. Her bangs had been swept to the left and held in place with a simple, yet elegant, hairpin that was adorned with a butterfly.

“How... how do I look?” Unable to tell if it was some kind of trick question, and definitely sure he wouldn’t be able to conjure a witty response to match, Storm took a few moments of silence to gather his thoughts before presenting his sister with the best encouragement he could think of.

“I’m sorry, I’m too busy being blown away to think clearly.”

“...you’re just saying that, aren’t you,” Scootaloo murmured, averting her gaze.

“No, really!” Storm instantly reassured her, trotting over and giving her a warm smile. “You look great, sis. Hay, if I wasn’t your brother, I’d...”

“That’s just creepy, Storm,” Scootaloo interjected, pulling a face and chancing a glance back at her hapless brother. Give me something, Storm. Some way to know that... that you’re safe. Despite his outward nonchalance, Storm was watching Scootaloo for signs, desperate to find some way to help. He could tell she wasn’t just throwing a fit; whatever was on her mind extended far beyond petty anger over his thoughtlessness. With nowhere else to start, he decided that he could at least say what he’d been meaning to since she left the house early that afternoon.

“Scootaloo, I’m... really sorry about today. I was just trying to mess with you a little, but I never thought you’d freak out as bad as you did.” But that’s not enough, is it, sis... “I shouldn’t have gone through your stuff, should have chased after you... I didn’t do what any older sibling should have, and I’m really sorry, but not just for that. I’ve been so caught up with Dash and the Wonderbolts that I... haven’t been spending near as much time with my sis as I should be.” The thought hadn’t even crossed Scootaloo’s mind, but it didn’t take long for her to realize it was true; with all the craziness going on, they had begun to drift apart. Storm sat waiting, ready to accept whatever punishment she deemed worthy, but what Scootaloo wanted wasn’t penance, but the safety that she used to find in her brother when she needed it the most.

“Get up here, you moron...” Scootaloo whispered, lifting a leaden hoof and letting it fall beside her. The spacious bed made room for one more as Storm climbed up next to Scootaloo, dwarfing the filly who took much more after her mother than father, and gently drew her to his chest. The light of the room faded as the black stallion sheltered her from the world and all it held with his massive wings, dark as the night, and Scootaloo felt a lump rising to her throat and pressure around her eyes as the stability and shelter she had longed for slowly drove back the fear enough for her to speak again.

“Do you... have any idea how hard I’ve tried to keep all the things you left laying around the room hidden?”

“No, I... I probably don’t,” Storm admitted with a sigh.

“I... didn’t know what to do at the thought of Pipsqueak finding out. I broke into the afternoon class and... ended up shouting at him in front of everypony. They all know, and they’ll talk, and... it’s over, Storm,” she whispered, screwing her eyes shut. “Pipsqueak wasn’t even fazed by it, and promised we’d be friends no matter what, but... there’s no way I’ll be able to show my face around town. I’ve been marked as the girliest filly in Ponyville...”

“I just don’t get it...” Storm murmured after a few seconds. “Scoots, you’re awesome no matter how you choose to dress, and creepy factor aside, you really do look beautiful when you try. Rainbow Dash is, without a doubt, the coolest pony in Equestria, and even she says you’re the greatest sister ever, so... why? Why do you try so hard to shut it out?” Scootaloo wished for all the world that she didn’t have an answer, that she could simply shrug it off and claim ignorance, but while she couldn’t explain how she’d come to the conclusion she did, she knew. To speak of it would be to lay herself bare, to drop all semblance of a facade and show herself in the weakness she despised. However, there was one pony who she trusted above all others, and that happened to be the one holding her close.

“At first...” she began, coughing a little as her voice cracked. “At first I just wanted to be cool, but then I started liking girly stuff too. It... scared me, Storm. It still does...”

That doesn’t make any sense. How could wanting to be girly...

“I... don’t want to be... be trapped like mom was...” Storm involuntarily squeezed tighter as his own walls threatened to be breached, her weak, hollow words cutting deep. Her need to be cool, strong, and independent, her aversion to all things girly on account of appearing weak: it all made sense. “I’m not that strong, Storm. I couldn’t... possibly handle what mom had to...”

“That’s enough!” Storm’s shout echoed around the room as buried feelings of rage embedded nearly as deep as his own genes roared to life at the atrocities committed by their adoptive “father,” Proud Skies. Controlling couldn’t even begin to scratch the surface in describing the pony, who had employed everything from physical abuse to assassination to keep Grace firmly tucked under his hoof; he had even planned to erase their newest sister, Hope, from existence before she was able to take her first breath. All these things had been accomplished in secret, but Storm could never forget seeing Scootaloo return to Ponyville after finding out the truth about how Proud Skies really felt about the “mongrel” that thought she was his daughter. She was just eight years old when her perception of reality had shattered, and when it felt like there was nopony to trust, she had turned to Storm, and did the same now, burying her muzzle into his chest.

“That’s enough...” he repeated in a choked whisper, shaking despite best efforts and unable to stop a trickle from seeping from his eyes. The memory of her return home, so broken that she could barely speak, played back in his mind, pulling him further towards the treacherous mire of hatred, and it was his sister’s shaking form that rallied his strength, returning his focus to where it should have been for quite some time; a sister in desperate need of her older brother. “It’s not going to happen.” Where once venom would have bled into his words from the rage still boiling under the surface, he focused everything on reaching out to Scootaloo, letting his words be not poison, but salve. “I won’t let it. No matter what, it’s not... it’s not going to happen...”

“Can you... please promise me?” Clinging to every word, Scootaloo let the rivers streaming down her cheeks widen as fear turned to relief, and despair for never being able to go back to the way things were was transformed into hope for the future as Storm left her with no doubt that she would always be taken care of.

“Even if it costs me my wings, and my life, I will never let you suffer the mom had to, Scootaloo. Not even Rainbow Dash could stop me, and as long as I am breathing, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. That’s my promise, Scootaloo, and I’ll... I’ll never betray it.” Reassurance cascaded like a flood upon the filly, the sheer conviction and raw honesty in her brother’s voice undeniable, and even as she felt a few of his tears drip into her mane, she couldn’t have felt safer than there in her brother’s hooves. “Don’t... don’t ever forget that no matter what I say, or how much of a freaking dunce I am sometimes, I... I’ll always love you, sis.”

“I love you too, Storm...” Tears ran their course, and calm was left in their wake. Scootaloo pried her face from Storm’s chest and looked around her room with bleary eyes, the faintest hint of a smile edging in around the corners of her mouth. “It’s... pretty girly to wear socks, isn’t it...”

“Horribly,” Storm murmured, chuckling a little and grateful for the change of subject. “Still, I have to say that you could probably have a lot of fun teasing Pipsqueak if you wore your mane like this more often. It’s pretty cute.”

“Are you kidding?” Scootaloo shot back feebly, grinning despite herself. “I wouldn't be able to have any fun playing with him if all he did was stare at me...”

“There’s that confidence I love to see in my little sis,” Storm murmured, folding his wings and pulling away. “I know it can be painful sometimes, having to deal with all of us, but what do you say you take a break from pirates or whatever and spend some time at home? It’s been awhile since we did something altogether as a family.”

“That sounds... kinda fun, actually,” Scootaloo quipped, her enthusiasm building as the weight of living a double life was, for a time, lifted from her shoulders. Having had her fill of sentimental sibling mushiness and reassured that no matter what happened she’d have a place to take refuge, Scootaloo leapt from the bed and raced out to the living room, rolling her eyes as praise for her new style rolled in from all ponies present, even while she secretly treasured every word. It wasn’t something she could see herself doing every day, but for a time, in a place she felt safe, one tomcolt played the lady.

Sweetie Belle felt just a hair shy of soul-crushing misery at having unwittingly knocked Spike unconscious while simultaneously doing a little interior remodeling of the library’s base floor: the newly formed cracks in the table were definitely avant garde. Her flying tackle kiss had gone great, right up until the rather stubborn and immovable table in the center of the library’s main floor proved it had no sense of romance, as it did not kindly step aside so that she could experience lip-locked wonder, but rather chose to reward her display of affection with possible brain damage to her significant other as he fell back. Oh, had she thrown a fit, but after a few gentle words from Twilight, she had resolved to sit beside the dragon until he awoke, and at some point must have fallen asleep beside him.

As her heart moved from the slow, rhythmic beats of sleep to jazz style spontaneity upon fully coming awake, Sweetie Belle felt little strength to do anything but stare at Spike’s face, which was just a tongue length away. The fact that she used such a measurement system, even in her head, sent all kinds of warning sirens off for the filly, but the music of a heart sent aflutter was at least loud enough to counter them, if not drown out the drone completely. No, as a million thoughts, desires, and emotions great and small flooded through a mind not yet ready to cope with maximum neural input, she took a deep breath, held it, and let it go with her best wishes, glancing across at the purple arms holding her and allowing herself a few moments of selfish indulgence.

He’s so sweet, even in sleep. I was... wasn’t! Wasn’t planning on this, but I... think I kinda maybe sorta hoped it would. If I’m asleep, I can’t be held responsible for it, right? Free pass! Well, not really free, per se... Not for you, huh Spike? Her enthusiasm calmed a little as she realized that a price had been paid for her over-zealous tackle of sheer elation, but as she slowly drew a hoof to her cheeks, she knew that a giant heaping dose of lovey dovey mushiness had set in to take its place, flooding the filly with warmth and again bringing her original intentions back to mind. An action as timeless as love itself, a simple gesture that could contain more meaning than a hundred pages of poetry: a glorious, heartfelt first kiss. With the last rays of golden light filtering in and nopony to stop her, Sweetie Belle moved her hoof from her cheeks to his, closed her eyes, and slowly began edging closer, making no attempts to restrain the anticipation that threatened spontaneous combustion in an explosion of rainbows, butterflies, and everything else love was made of.

“Spike...” she whispered, shuddering at the name. Sweetie Belle couldn’t remember a single time when the setting felt so perfect, even with her special somepony fast asleep, but she also couldn’t remember feeling so indebted, so grateful, so absolutely head over hooves in heartfelt liking him a lot. Seeing that measuring in hoof lengths was much too great a distance for the delicate nature of her situation, her mind continued with its new system as she let the world melt away, enraptured in blissful serenity with the only one for her. Half a tongue length... quarter tongue length... Sweetie Belle was forced to pause as the raw excitement threatened to overwhelm her as her lips parted ever so slightly, ready to bestow the greatest thanks a filly her age was allowed to give. This is your thanks, Spike. Only for you... A slam, a shout, and the swift approach of hooves were all it took to shatter a crystalline moment of youthful, innocent bliss.

“Spike~! Letter time, letter time, letter time~!” Twilight all but bypassed the staircase entirely as she bounded up to the second floor, so great was her excitement, though as she stopped and sensed, rather than physically saw, the fragments of romance diffused throughout the air, the heartbroken wail of a filly now four times deprived of a special moment completed what was lacking in Twilight’s impromptu wakeup call. It didn’t matter to Sweetie Belle how mature or not she appeared, or the fact that she quickly garnered a small audience including one highly curious stallion with the most massive mane she’d ever seen, nor what kind of rumors such a piercing howl of dismay could spark when blasting through the quieting streets as ponies closed up for the day.

While Sweetie Belle’s dramatic cries weren’t anywhere close to being as terribly grating as Rarity’s were, it still wasn’t the most pleasant thing for a dragon who had remodeled a table with his skull just hours before to wake up to, and thus he shirked his duty as being the bearer of comfort and buried his head under a pillow, groaning as the lancing pains reminded him that cranial carpentry wasn’t a field he wished to dabble in again.

“Uh... bad timing?” Twilight offered with a sheepish smile as she looked first at Spike and then to Sweetie Belle, lying on her back with all four hooves in the air and weeping buckets.

“B-bad timing?” Sweetie Belle sputtered, calming the torrent for a moment so she could rant coherently. “That was worse than bad! I was one sixty-fourth of a tongue length from kissing Spike, and you had to... to come and... waaaah~!”

“That close? Twilight, you’re absolutely heartless...” Cerulean murmured, shaking his head in mock disapproval. Sweetie Belle eased up on the waterworks as the stallion she’d heard tell of but never formally met cautiously edged over and stood staring at her with eyes full of concern, his multi-hued green mane falling down all around and almost reaching to the floor.

“That doesn’t sound like happy crying. Does something hurt?” the jade stallion, in honest innocence and an improper understanding of just how distraught the filly was, asked with an encouraging smile.

“No, it’s not happy crying! This is definitely not happy crying!” Sweetie Belle howled, spooking the skittish stallion who immediately cowered behind Cerulean.

“Bad Sweebelle! No scare Whisper!” Dawn commanded, leaping down from her perch atop Twilight’s back and marching over to the side of the bed.

“How the hay am I supposed to scare a whisper?” she shot back, arguing with the foal, nearly a year old, with about the same level of maturity.

“Ugh, well, your shouts have driven most of them away, I’m sure,” Spike finally chimed in, sitting up with a groan. “That green pony’s name is Whisper. He’s Cerulean’s brother. You know, the pony that Fluttershy found in the forest?”

“...oh.” Sweetie Belle wiped her eyes and sat up, ready to give a calm oration on the unfairness of life that Spike clearly had little appreciation for, but as claw rose to the lump at the base of his head, she held her silence as he made eye contact. Neither angry nor accusing, his word were what they were.

“I really have no idea what’s going on, but could you maybe stop screaming? My head... really hurts.” Upon seeing the filly’s ears fall flat, Cerulean placed a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder and gave a gentle tug.

“The letter to Celestia can wait. Let’s give these two some space, alright? C’mon, Whisper. There’s a lot you need to know still.”

“Um... ok,” he replied, casting a nervous eye at Sweetie Belle, fearing she might burst into tears at any moment. As the group descended, Sweetie Belle struggled to wrench back her self-control, and finding it, she returned her full attention to Spike, who had laid back down and was currently shielding his eyes from the evening rays.

“So... how about them tables, huh?” Spike began with a half hearted chuckle, lifting his claw just enough to look up at a filly who clearly found the situation far less amusing than he. “Oh, come on. Do I look angry?”

“It’s not about that, Spike. I know you’re not...” she replied, her tone soft enough to almost be taken as vulnerable. In fact, as seconds passed, Spike became convinced it was, and gaver her his full attention, ready to listen. “I was... so close to kissing you.”

“Wha... really?” Spike managed, now fully awake and shifting from clueless to excited, and shortly after to crestfallen as he realized the statement was past tense. “But... when, just now? While I was asleep?”

“Yeah, but...”

“And then Twilight...” Sweetie Belle nodded once, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then opened them to find the spot Spike had been sitting was now abandoned.

What the... Spike? Where’d you... Her unspoken inquiry was soon answer as a bestial howl of rage, more articulate and harrowing than her infantile hissy fit had been, filled the whole of Ponyville. In a way, it was touching, really, seeing how important the first kiss truly was to Spike, and even as she winced at the volume, she smiled at the sentiment, eagerly awaiting her next chance. Spike, however, was not present to sense all this, as he was too busy letting Ponyville know that life just wasn’t fair with both fists held to the skies.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Worse than the patch job on the clubhouse roof, and perhaps even worse than the derelict hunk of waterlogged wood that used to, at one point, resemble a proper vessel, was Applebloom’s state of mind as she trotted inside, skipped the dinner table completely, and sat on her bed in deep contemplation. She was neither upset nor excitable, nor was she grumpy in the slightest; how could she be? Rumble was about the sweetest thing since Zap Apple jam, and he had shown it in both word and deed, but it was the latter that rendered the filly hopelessly flustered. If she were asked if the colt’s innocently physical way of dealing with things bothered her, she could have looked even Applejack in the eye and rightly answered both yes and no.

“Wait a second, that’s it!” she exclaimed, hopping from her bed and throwing open the door. “Ah’ll just talk t’ Applejack, an’ between the two o’ us, we’ll get things figured out faster than squeezin’ grape juice.” This confidence extended right up until the point where she actually found herself outside her sister’s pad that she shared with Silver, still on the farm grounds but far enough away that any evasive mad scramble back towards home should her sister be less than receptive to her inquiries were sure to be routed. Apple pie, just remember, we’re apple pie... Knocking thrice, she took a step back and swallowed hard as she prepared to engage in a feat Daring Do would find laudable; discussing colts with Applejack.

“Hey there, Applebloom,” Applejack quipped, answering the knocks and standing aside. “Come on in, ah was just about t’ have a bite o’ supper.”

“...don’t smash the pie, sis!” Applebloom blurted out, garnering nothing but confusion from her elder sibling as the filly all but begged for her life with the look she was getting.

“Uh... what now, sugarcube?” While Applejack had, technically, invited Applebloom inside, she hadn’t expected the filly to splay out on her floor and beg for understanding that, if she had even the slightest clue what her sisters was talking about, she might have been willing to give. “Applebloom, yer talkin’ too fast an’ ah ain’t go the faintest idea what you’re tryin’ t’ say. Straighten up an’ talk proper.”

“Ah said ah’m sorry fer gettin’ frisky with Rumble!” she shouted, loudly and quite clearly. Applejack sat stunned for a moment as her protective side and lingering aversion to colts painted vivid pictures in her mind that shouldn’t ever be. “It’s not like ah was tryin’ to, but then he moved closer, an’ ah felt like ah was on fire, an’ then... then it just happened!” There was a room shaking thud as Applejack sat down hard, her wide eyes staring dead ahead as her mind had a merry meltdown. Applebloom, unaware that she hadn’t explicitly spelled out what exactly had happened, continued to torment her sister with easily misconstrued words of the purest kind.

“Ah thought about stoppin’, ah really did, but it just felt right. He was really gentle, an’... ah don’t know how else t’ say it, sis! It just felt right! It don’t bother me none, but it bothers me that it don’t bother me, an’ now ah’m all confused an’ don’t know what t’ do!”

“Celestia have mercy! Applebloom, you... he... ah can’t handle this!” Applejack wailed, bowing her head and covering her face with both hooves. “Ah’m sorry, pa! An’ you too, ma! Ah tried, ah swear ah did! Ah’m a terrible daughter, an’ now... now yer gonna ‘ave two grand babies!”

“Uh, sis?”

“Ah listened t’ Big Mac instead o’ keepin’ an’ eye on ‘em like ah thought ah should! Ah thought ah could trust ‘im... he’s mah older brother, ain’t he? Wisdom’s supposed t’ come with age! Oh, Luna, where’d ah go wrong?”

“Sis!”

“Ah promise ah won’t let it happen again, pa! That’s it, where mah rope? We’ll see how frisky she can be tied to a...”

“Applejack!!!” A sound not unlike her sister’s voice penetrated the thick wall of abject horror clouding the mare’s mind, and she paused, staring at the filly who couldn’t figure out why the hay Applejack was freaking out so bad over a little cuddle time. “What ‘n tarnation has gotten into you? Ah came t’ you ‘cause ah needed advice, not because ah wanted you t’ blow a gasket. Why’re you so upset, anyhow?”

“Why... you...” Applejack sputtered, unable to believe her ears. “Not two days later, an’ yer already rollin’ in the hay with some colt that...”

“Rollin’ in what?” Applebloom yelled, mortally offended that Applejack would even mention such taboo. “Ah can’t believe you’d think such a thing of me, Applejack! That... that really hurts...” Despite the sirens still blaring in Applejack’s ears, her sister’s lapse into silence was yet louder, and doing her best to reset the situation, Applejack slowly approached and sat down in front of her sister, regulating her voice and trying not to pay any heed to the myriad of assumptions plaguing her mind.

“Ah’m sorry fer losin’ it back there, Applebloom. Ah may have gotten ahead o’ mahself. Let’s try this again; what happened?” Rather than answer verbally, Applebloom reached up to her bow and pulled out one of the pictures Cloudchaser had taken, slowly sliding it over so Applejack could see. The mare took a glance at the image, peered back at Applebloom who sat awaiting her sister’s appraisal in silence, and then back at image of a colt tenderly holding her little sister. She must have been right worried comin’ over here, judgin’ by the way she’s shakin’. Ah ain’t comfortable with this, not so soon, but ah'm sure she already knows that. “You... look pretty happy here, Applebloom.”

“Ah... ah was.” Seconds crept past as Applejack waited for further explanation, but while she could be overprotective and overbearing at times, that wasn’t what Applebloom needed. Applebloom glanced up as warmth of a different kind encompassed her.

“Ah know you’re probably right frightened o’ talkin’ t’ me, given how ah’ve acted with this whole thing, an’ ah gotta say ah don’t blame ya,” Applejack soothed, speaking softly. “It means a lot t’ me that ya came, an’ you have mah word that ah won’t lose mah mind like ah did a little while ago. So whatever is on yer mind, feel free t’ share. Ah’ll do mah best t’ help.”

“Yer the best flaky pastry ever, sis...” Applebloom murmured, giving her a gentle squeeze before pulling away and taking a deep breath. “Sis, ah’m confused. Ah know there need t’ be boundaries an’ the like, an’ that don’t bother me none, but ah don’t know where t’ draw the line! Ah mean, just look at that,” she said, pointing towards the picture lying a short distance away. “None o’ my friends are doin’ that! Well, maybe Sweetie Belle and Spike have, ah don’t know...”

“They’ve known each other a bit longer, Applebloom,” Applejack replied, covering her mouth with a hoof as she heard the reproving tone that had filtered in. Applebloom paid it no heed, but simply nodded, pulling away and beginning to pace as she explained herself.

“Ah know, an’ that’s exactly what ah’m talkin’ about! Ah mean, if it felt wrong, then it’d be easy t’ put mah hoof down and say ‘that’s enough.’ But, sis, he didn’t mean anythin’ pervy by it, ah know he didn’t! He was just bein’ nice, but ah feel like it should bug me, and it doesn’t, but it drives me crazy that it doesn’t ‘cause ah feel like it should! An’ now mah head is all messed up, an’... an’ ah just... what should ah do, sis?” Applejack had, in that moment, been given an opportunity to forestall any and all displays of physical affection between her sister and anypony else.

All it would take is a few choice words, an’ she’d stay away from all o’ that. But that’s... not somethin’ ah would want taken away. “Heh, it seems ah’ve given some o’ my worries t’ you...” Applejack murmured, chuckling softly and shooting her sister an apologetic smile. “Ah don’t think ah’ve ever mentioned this t’ you, as ah never really had cause to, but d’ you know what one o’ mah favorite things was when ah was datin’ Silver?”

“Cider?”

“Well, yes, he does brew a fine cup o’ booze, t’ be sure,” Applejack laughed, beckoning her sister over with a wave. Donning a warming smile, she drew the picture over and set it before Applebloom, letting her love for her little sister guide her words rather than the worries that were born not of anything Applebloom had done, but her own past experiences. “No, what ah loved most was just bein’ held tight, just like you are here. Applebloom, there ain’t anythin’ wrong with showin’ somepony you care with hooves instead o’ words. If this is all that happened, then there’s no shame in that.”

“Really?” Applebloom pressed, looking up at her sister with eyes full of hope and relief that she hadn’t let her sister down.

“Ah make a habit o’ not tellin’ lies, little filly,” Applejack chuckled, patting her head and looking down at the photo. “Yer right, you are young and there are things that are definitely not ok, an’ make no mistake, ah’ll whip yer hide if ya get anywhere near ‘em,” Applejack warned, her tone leaving no question in her sister’s mind that she meant what she said. “But this... well, ah suppose ah can live with this.”

“You’re not angry none?”

“Angry? Not even a smidgen, sugarcube. A tad hesitant, maybe a little worried, but ah ain’t mad, Applebloom. Ah just want t’ make sure you’re safe.”

Huh. That certainly could have gone a whole lot worse. Ah think... ah wanna take things just a little slower, with cuddles saved fer special occasions. Oh, an’ ah should probably admit t’ likin’ him eventually... “Thanks fer talkin’ so nice t’ me, sis. Ah really needed somepony t’ listen, an’ ah wanted it t’ be you. Ah was right scared, but now, ah’m sure you could handle anythin’!”

“Well, ah don’t know ‘bout that,” Applejack warned, grinning back. Applebloom couldn’t have understood just how great a concession had been made, nor how much the thought of Applebloom being physical in any way worried Applejack, but seeing the relief in the filly’s eyes and the trust that had been restored and grown was reward enough to make it worth it. Waving her sister off as she left, Applejack pulled the picture she’d left back over, glared at it and had a little rant of her own.

“Why’d ah have t’ wait so long t’ find somepony t’ hold me like that? It just ain’t fair! What ah wouldn’t give fer a good cup o’ cider right now... maybe a little wine... or moonshine! Just a glass o’ that an’... ah can’t do this to mahself! Hey!” she shouted, tapping her swollen stomach and rousing the foal within. “Hurry up an’ come t’ term, would ya? Yer ma wants t’ get bamboozled!” A tiny buck signaled compliance, and Applejack resigned herself to a few more months of abstinence with a sigh and a glass of apple juice.

Filler Foolery

Chapter 10: Filler Foolery

“So remind me again what we’re doing?” Silver Spoon murmured, regarding the plain looking house that she and Ruby were nearing with a droll look of boredom. The ever enthusiastic unicorn filly beside her had been adamant that she not simply return home to sulk, but rather accompany her as she did a little charity work. Having been born and raised within a family where money was no object and the term “needs” was often translated as “wants” due to an abundance of wealth, Silver Spoon had little idea what it was Ruby actually meant.

“Silly, I told you before; we’re helping other ponies.”

“...for how much?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Yep!”

“And why are we doing this again?”

“Because it’s fun!” Ruby declared, jumping onto a doormat bearing the image of a carrot. “Listen up, miss fancy schmancy. There are ponies all over the place with problems and worries, and it’s our job to work together and help fix them.”

“Why? Let somepony else do the dirty work,” Silver Spoon replied, more bewildered by the notion than anything. Everything you just said right there is the exact opposite of Diamond Tiara. I... kinda like it, though.

“Silver Spoon, if I had taken that attitude, I think there’d still be a very sad filly on the swing set all alone.” Ruby immediately worried she’d pressed her point too far as Silver Spoon turned her head away, staring aimlessly at the dirt and saying nothing. “I...”

“You’re right.” A smile slowly came back to both of them as Silver Spoon nodded slowly. “I’m not much for getting my hooves dirty, but I guess I can deign to help you.”

“Deign to... oh, right,” Ruby chuckled, rolling her eyes as begrudging charity was laced with snooty elitism. “‘Cause it’s such a pain in the flanks.” It’s kinda strange, talking to her. It’s like... she’s still kinda snobby, but her words don’t really feel pointed like they did when she was with “that other one.” This might actually be fun! Taking heart in the faint smile bordering her new friend’s lips, Ruby knocked a few times and grinned up at a perky yellow earth pony with a definitively orange mane. “Afternoon, Carrot Top!”

“Hey there, Ruby. Wait, no, don’t tell me... you’re here to help in the garden?” the mare replied, heaving a sigh of relief. “You couldn’t have picked a better day. Hello there, Silver... wait, Silver Spoon?” she remarked, doing a double take as the filly held her head high and stared down her nose at a mare she’d normally have little dealing with. “Ok, well, gardening is out of the question if, er...”

“Nope, you had it right the first time,” Ruby assured her, grinning widely. “I’m on a mission to cure the miss of priss, and seeing how she’s an earth pony, I figured there’s no better way to get her back down to earth than working with plants.”

“...are you saying that earth ponies are only good for growing food?” Silver Spoon asked, minorly peeved. Ruby gave her an apologetic glance that quickly reverted to a cheeky grin before she turned back to Carrot Top, motioning her closer and speaking in a whisper loud enough for Silver Spoony to hear.

“As you can see, I’ve got a long way to go,” Ruby snickered, sticking out her tongue as Silver Spoon tried her best reproving librarian look, to no avail. “How bad is your garden?”

“Really bad. I’ve been a little distracted lately, so...”

“Perfect! Let’s go!” Turning, she found Silver Spoon yet again giving her a blank stare, like she was some creature never before revealed to ponykind. “Oh come on, my third eye isn’t that noticeable, is it?” Ruby quipped, bounding over and eagerly awaiting the next half-hearted jibe that, oddly, she had found rather fun to play off of the last two days. Instead of a rebuttal, Silver Spoon simply continued to stare deep in thought, and while she flinched slightly at the hoof being waved frantically in front of her face, her thoughts remained concealed and on track, and Silver Spoon quickly found that she held some measure of power over Ruby as well. “Hellooo? Anypony home?”

“Of course. Come on, let’s go before we’re left behind,” Silver Spoon said, beginning to trot after the mare who, upon realizing her help was dilly dallying, had stopped and respectfully maintained her silence, though her mouth did come slightly agape at hearing Silver Spoon be the one to move things back toward the garden. Ruby quickly caught up and adopted the closest Silver Spoon had heard to a whine yet, the filly indulging just a teensy bit of selfishness as her inquisitive itch was inflamed and left unscratched.

“What was that all about?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on, Silver Spoon, that so was not nothing!”

“It so wasn’t, you’re right.”

“Aren’t you gonna tell me?”

“Oh, look, I can see the carrot field.”

“Silver Spoon!” With a challenging grin pasted on her muzzle, the gray filly turned and promptly turned Ruby’s words back upon her with ease and the sweetest of glee.

“I think I feel my inner earth pony coming back.”

“Oh, don’t you dare. Silver Spoon, get back here!” Ruby shouted as her friend darted ahead towards the neatly organized rows that had, due to negligence, become crowded with weeds. Silver Spoon’s plans only extended to the “tease, laugh, escape,” levels, and thus as she actually entered the area and her hooves dug into the moist, rich dirt, she came quite suddenly to a halt and was completely bowled over by Ruby, who she had momentarily forgot was still seeking an answer to her sudden lapse into introspection. As the world stopped spinning and Silver Spoon's vision came back into focus, she realized that Ruby was laying across her in an undignified giggling heap, and she quickly shoved the filly none-too-gently from her chest and stood, dusting herself off and pointedly looking away.

“Whoa, easy there,” Ruby chuckled, picking herself up and rubbing her side where a hasty hoof had unceremoniously toppled her from her place of rest. “At least you don’t have to worry about getting dirty, since we already are, right?” Ok, this is the part where you flip out for getting tackled, or make some snide comment, or... or something! Why is she so quiet all of a sudden? “Silver Spoon? Are you ok?”

“I-I’m fine...”

“Are you...”

“Yes.”

“Because...”

“It doesn’t matter! I’m fine, ok?” Silver Spoon shouted, whirling on Ruby for just a moment before turning back around.

Either her face flushes really easily, or she’s more mad than she’s letting on. Sheesh, you try to help a pony out... “Well, if you’re ok, then it’s time to start. Anything extra you need done, Carrot Top?”

“Nope,” the mare replied, amused by the strange proceedings and especially interested in the bizarre timidity being displayed by Silver Spoon. “Just a thorough weeding today. I’ll start on the opposite end, and we can meet in the middle. With three of us, this shouldn’t take too long.” Holding her peace until Carrot Top was out of earshot, Ruby turned to find Silver Spoon giving a rather good sized weed a look that should have withered it on the spot.

“I cannot believe I am about to be doing something as menial as pulling weeds...” she muttered, batting the offending flora with a hoof and snorting. Is this really what I’ve been reduced to? Tossing my class out the window, and for what? “Hey! What the...” she shouted as a weed landed square between her ears in the upright position, the moist earth keeping it firmly in place as she gawked at Ruby, currently feigning innocence and yanking more weeds with practiced skill. Pride would not let the filly ignore such an open declaration of war, and suddenly that horrendous weed became a choice weapon in Silver Spoon’s arsenal, one that was thrown with surprising speed and accuracy into the flank of one unicorn filly.

Huh... that was actually kind of... fun. This might not be so...

“Weed fight!” Ruby’s battle cry galvanized Silver Spoon into action, and where once a chore sure to take several hours loomed over the head of one lofty filly, an afternoon of fun settled in its stead. Pedigree may have bid Silver Spoon refrain from such barbaric entertainment, but she couldn’t deny that, despite her disgust with the dirt pervading her mane and coat, it was the most fun she’d had in quite some time. Ruby sat poised, ready to strike when she was forced to take a moment to appreciate the genuine smile with which Silver Spoon regarded her, and despite of the fact that dropping her defenses begged for a counter attack, Ruby relinquished her ammunition and grinned back; there was gratitude in bespectacled violet eyes.

Ok Spike, you can do this. Common sense, that’s all it takes. Yeah, that’s not that hard, right? Ride the wave, just ride the wave... It was fortunate that there were no smoke detectors in the library, and perhaps more fortunate that Twilight and the rest had vacated the house, as the entire second story was filled with billowing black clouds despite open windows. From his place on the couch, Spike dutifully sat awaiting with a none-too-eager stomach the “meal” into which Sweetie Belle was no doubt pouring heaping doses of effort, good intentions, and boundless affection. Sadly, as Spike blanched at a rather potent scent of nothing edible by ponykind or dragon alike, the only thing he felt at that moment was nervousness, nausea, and a tickling sensation along the nape of his neck which was surely a blade poised to fall. Sweetie Belle was cooking again.

“Spike!” Sweetie Belle called out, trotting over and simultaneously looking adorable in her oversized apron and striking fear into one dragon’s heart as he tried to ascertain what common household foods could produce colors to match the smears all over the fabric. “I know you’re probably really hungry, and it’s taken a lot longer than I thought, but lunch is almost ready! Are you excited?” Swallowing hard served a twofold purpose, clearing the dragon’s throat for to prepare for clear speech and staving off the upheaval of his stomach as his mind frantically tried to match “food” with “indescribable gray mass coating an apron destined never to be white again.

“Y-yeah, Sweetie Belle,” he managed in an almost normal voice. “I can’t wait to see what, uh... food you made. I’m really...” Keep it together, Spike, or you’ll never make it through lunch! “...really grateful that you’re taking the time to cook for me.” Even though I’d rather be eating rocks by the smell of it. Ride the wave, ride the...

“Awww, you’re so sweet...” Sweetie Belle murmured, blushing lightly and gazing lovelorn for a moment before a rather thick cloud spewed from the kitchen, grabbing the filly’s attention. “Oh no, I forgot the salad! Sorry, be back in a little bit, Spike!”

Salad? Curious, Spike stuck a claw into the seething mass and pulled it away to find it coated in what appeared to be soot. ...be crushed by the wave, be crushed by the wave. I’m so doomed... What I wouldn’t give for a ruby right now, or maybe a nice bowl of sapphires. Oh, turquoise! Geez, did that stuff taste good after a day spent in the canyons, surrounded by buffalo. As his mind defensively beat back the offensive reek filling the house with thoughts of delectable dragon treats, Sweetie Belle chanced another look out into the main room to find Spike leaning back, his claws idly massaging a rumbling gut and a trickle of drool running down from the corner of his mouth.

Yes, I’ve got him drooling! This is going way better than that time I cooked for Rarity. I mean, the toast is almost solid! Darting over to the table, her confidence took a slight hit as she realized that the structural integrity of said toast had deteriorated while she tended to the salad frying in the pan, the contents not quite liquid, but not nearly sound enough to be called a solid. “Oh well!” Sweetie quipped, cheerfully cantering back to the stove and tending to the four dishes she had going simultaneously. “Spike’s drooling, and that’s all the assurance I need! He’s gonna love this, and then things will get romantic again, and I’m finally going to get that kiss! I mean, what could go wrong! I even have a secret weapon!”

Bounding over to the table set for two, she gazed at the harbinger of kisses, the timeless bringer of romance: the candle. Standing tall and never lit, she regarded the sentinel with reverence, growing giddy at the mere thought of dining in the low light with one who, she hoped, would be so enthralled that he’d have the courage to ask “the question.” For a moment, the meal was forgotten as thoughts of the dragon’s kindness came to mind, the foremost of which being the easy excusal of her over-eager tackle and subsequent headache that ensued. Her parents could tell her she was amazing all they wanted, but she knew she was far from perfect.

And yet, that was exactly the way Spike made her feel and so, with a hoof to her chest, she let the blush come, the world melting away as giddy puppylove flooded the filly head to hoof. At least, until the roar of something catching fire bid her turn and tend once more to the salad, rescuing the dish from its identity crisis and reaffirming with a heavy splash of vinegar that it was not, as it wrongly assumed, flambé, but spring mix with carrots, scallions, and a light twist of lemon.

With a few more touches, a dash of this and a dash of that, Sweetie Belle switched off the stove top burners, drew the curtains on the kitchen window closed, and pulled the bread from the oven, setting it on the counter and using the sparking end of one of the loaves to light the candle. Setting the smoldering loaf back on the tray without a second thought, Sweetie Belle set the spread out on the table, arranging it perfectly as Rarity had taught her and beaming with pride. Spike was so hers with this. Dimming the lights and coughing fitfully as she took a deep draft of lingering airborne food particles, she removed her apron, stowed it neatly in the corner, and emerged with an off-white, nearly gray coat.

“Spike, I hope you’re hungry, because I made everything special just for you!” Spike couldn’t possibly have turned his snout to such an invitation, the anticipation shining in exuberant eyes, bidding him rise and, just in case things went as horribly as he expected, give the filly a gentle embrace.

“Thanks, Sweetie Belle. I really appreciate you cooking for me.” Even if I die from this, which I probably will, but hey! That’s what you do for fillies... right? Ok, Spike, let’s see how well you surf! Like a sheep to the shearer, Spike followed her in and sat down at a spread that screamed “name your poison.” Clearly blown away by culinary prowess and the power of the lit beacon, Sweetie Belle assessed the condition of her prey as being effectively lovestruck, rather than caught, bound, and awaiting torture as he felt. Since he couldn’t figure out what to dig into first, Sweetie Belle explained the spread for him in a manner far too cheerful for an executioner.

“Ok, so here we have a simple salad,” she began, pointing to a large bowl full of what looked like charred wood chips and dust, coated with the first recognizable substance Spike had found: ranch dressing. “Nothing fancy, I know, but it gets better, I promise. This here,” she continued, removing the lid to a rather large pot, “is spaghetti, made special for you. Here, let me help you.” Spike sat ramrod stiff as an unappetizing green mass that resembled what garden vegetables fed through a food processor with copious quantities of jelly might look like, all colored in a green that is only fitting for pea soup.

“...that’s spaghetti?”

“Yep! Now, over here we have...” One by one, she named off the foods, and by the end, Spike’s plate was piled high with an assortment of colors and masses of differing consistencies, the most troublesome of which was her infamous “toast.” How she managed to turn bread into colorless liquid was beyond him, but it didn’t really matter; she was waiting. This is great! We’re gonna get our moment, I can feel it! With a soft splutch, Spike indiscriminately dug his spoon into the side of one of the globs, writing a mental will and comforting himself with one last thought as his lips parted and the spoon went in.

I hope the afterlife is like a never ending ice cream dream; it may just be enough to make up for this. His mouth closed. He’d find out soon enough.

Elsewhere in Ponyville where food poisoning was not a requirement for romantic advancement, Applebloom found herself enjoying a pleasant time playing the nurse, tending to Rumble’s needs while simultaneously enjoying the company of his brother and his ever-invasive filly friends. The chemistry between the three came across as so natural that it almost didn’t register in her mind as being any different, though should Rumble ever try to add a second, Applebloom would most assuredly notice, and he would once more find himself on the business end of a mallet. For the moment though, she was content to simply feed the colt, ice his lump which, fortunately, had reduced in size considerably over the last two days, and try as slyly as she could to cop a feel of his mane.

“Is it really that soft?” Rumble asked after the umpteenth “slip of the hoof” which led him to wonder what kind of disastrous state his mane must be in after so many similar “accidents.” Immediately bashful at having been caught and having no other explanation, Applebloom hastily withdrew her hoof and tried to conjure a legitimate response.

“If ah could have a blanket made o’ yer hair, ah’d be the luckiest filly in all o’ Equestria!” What ‘n... that’s not what ah meant t’ say! That makes me sound right creepy like... “What ah meant t’ say is, uh... it’s, you know...” Knowing further stalling would likely result in further hoof in mouth experiences, Applebloom accepted the rising blush and answer flatly in a dull monotone. “Yes, ah think yer mane is the softest, most amazin’ thing t’ touch mah hoof, and ah can hardly help mahself around it. Please fergive me fer caressin’ yer noggin’ way too much.”

Not sure whether to take offense at the colt’s laughter or be thankful that he wasn’t weirded out at her bizarre behavior, Applebloom patiently held the tray with his food stable while Rumble doubled over, thoroughly amused and quite undisturbed with the filly’s fixation with his silky mane. Embarrassment drifted away as Rumble quieted and sat upright, wiping moisture from his eyes and taking another sip of soup, one of the few things Applebloom knew how to make well. “Ah’m glad you think it’s funny...” Applebloom muttered, folding her hooves across her chest and dangling her legs off the edge of the bed. “You don’t seem t’ have any crazy urges t’ touch me all over.”

“Uh...” Applebloom couldn’t recall hearing a more awkward silence in all her days, and what was worse is that she didn’t even realize she was the source, at least not until she turned a curious eye towards a furiously blushing colt who was of a normally tame mind that took a trip to the south.

What’s he shiftin’ around for? Looks like ah just threw him on stage dressed as a filly! “What’s go you so riled up, huh? It’s not like ah told you t’... oh Celestia...” Cream colored cheeks soon matched one brilliant crimson ribbon as Applebloom realized exactly what she had said, implied, and unintentionally introduced all at once. Whether it was because of his still healing mallet-addled brain or simply blunt honestly, Rumble replied with all the innocence a curious colt could. Don’t say anythin’, Rumble, just don’t say...

“That’s, um... not exactly, true...”

“Dang it! Ah said not t’ say anythin’, didn’t ah?!?” Applebloom wailed, burying her muzzle in her hooves as Rumble reached out to steady his tray.

“Nuh uh.”

“Ah did too!”

“Nuh uh!”

“...didn’t ah?”

“Nuh uh...”

“Ponyfeathers...”

“Uh huh.”

“So what were you thinkin’ ‘bout, huh?” Again Rumble found himself wishing for a darker coat so as to hide the warmer colors creeping into his cheeks at the mere thought of what was on his mind. Embarrassment only fueled more embarrassment as one colt and one filly spurned each other’s blushes with their own, and by the time Rumble found it in himself to come clean, Applebloom wasn’t sure she wanted to hear.

“I was, um...”

“Never mind, ah don’t wanna...”

“I was thinking about...”

“Ah said ah don’t wanna know! Don’t say...”

“...your ribbon.”

“...anythin’.” Unable to maintain eye contact, both turned away to their own thoughts. That’s it? That’s all he was thinkin’ about? He was so quick t’ hold me tight, an’ he was so affectionate ah thought fer sure it’d be... somethin’ worse. But mah ribbon is... Applebloom chanced a glance back at a colt who was too ashamed with his own forward admittance to keep his eyes open, and she continued to watch him as she slowly brought a hoof up to the last memento she had from her mother, a pony she could hardly remember, and only in fragments of memories long since past. Mah ribbon ain’t somethin’ ah let anypony near, but fer Rumble, ah... no, not yet. Someday, maybe, but not just yet.

I can’t believe I actually said that. I knew I should have just kept quiet, but I didn’t want to hide anything from her... I don’t even know why I like it so much! It’s just... He dared to open an eye and immediately snapped it shut upon seeing that he was indeed being watched. “I’m...” he murmured, swallowing hard and bracing himself for whatever storm was surely on the horizon. “I’m sorry if I, um...”

“Oh, hush.” A shifting weight on the bed bid the colt open his eyes once more to find Applebloom moving closer, flustering an already direly embarrassed colt further as the filly took a seat beside him, still quite rosy cheeked and unsure of herself as she snaked out a hesitant hoof, resting it gently upon Rumble’s own. Gosh, ah think ah just caught fire... It... kinda tingles a little, in a nice way. “You... ain’t got no reason t’ apologize.”

“But...”

“What part o’ hush did ya not understand?” Applebloom snapped feebly, what authority her words would have carried diminishing as she found herself smiling. “You were honest, an’ that ain’t... any reason t’ be upset.” Applebloom felt her breath catch as the Rumble’s other hoof slowly eclipsed hers and squeezed gently as the colt let slip a sigh of relief that he hadn’t made the filly nearly as uncomfortable as he had first guessed. “Do... you really like mah ribbon?”

“Uh h...” he started, stopping himself and auto-correcting as he offered a timid smile. “I do.”

An’ now he’s doin’ that manners thing? How’s a simple filly like me supposed t’ resist that, huh? Hey, look at that. His lips are right close... Ah wonder what it’d be like, that kissin’ thing Sweetie Belle seems t’ be so obsessed with? Celestia knows mah sister an' Silver do enough of it, an’ that’s t’ say nothin’ of their friends... Gracious, what am ah thinkin’? “You’re trouble, ya know that?” Applebloom stated, turning away and smiling as the expected response made the first push back towards normalcy.

“Uh huh!”

“Ah suppose ah shoulda figured that out when ya came crashin’ through mah fort.”

“Uh huh.”

“Enough chit chat,” Applebloom declared, grinning back at the colt and directing his attention back to his forgotten meal. “Food is good fer healin’, an’ ah made this special just fer you. Now, eat up before it gets cold.”

“Sure, but there’s just one little problem,” Rumble replied with a grin, garnering Applebloom’s attention.

“Oh? What might that be?”

“I’m, um... kind of holding something else right now,” he said quietly, squeezing gently and drawing Applebloom’s attention back to her own hoof, currently sandwiched in between his. Rumble remained respectfully silent while Applebloom weighed the pros and cons, and made a decision for herself, regardless of what anypony might think, a new rush of heat racing through her body as she squeezed back.

“Ah guess... you can wait a little longer t’ eat, if ya want...”

After the harrowing journey of self-discovery Scootaloo had experienced a few days prior, the spastic young pegasus wanted nothing more than a good adventure to help clear her mind of anything and everything deep, meaningful, and girly, and for adventure, there was only one colt to turn to. She had almost made it out the door with her mane done up like she had shown to Storm, but an inexplicable sensation akin to catching fire at the mere thought of the most awesome colt in all of Equestria seeing her in such a state, and even more so the thought of him actually liking it, forbade such a bold step forward. And yet, as she trotted through into town, peering around the throngs of ponies going about their daily business, she didn’t feel the heavy burden of hiding that had been mounting for months, perhaps even over a year. She was simply herself, “part tomcolt, part lady, all awesome,” as Rainbow Dash had so eloquently said earlier that morning.

“Scootaloo? Hey, Scootaloo!” Slightly disappointed that she hadn’t spotted Pipsqueak first and unnerved that she had actually been called by her actual name, as opposed to the number of other titles the roguish colt dashing towards her tended to use, Scootaloo turned and regarded the simple colt’s enthusiasm with a smirk. “Check it out! I got my stuff back!” he declared, whipping out his blade and striking a pose.

“Back? You lost it?” Scootaloo replied, nonplussed. “I can’t imagine anypony separating you from your gear, considering the fit you threw over not having any boots.”

“You don’t have to rub it in,” Pipsqueak shot back, looking hurt as he sheathed his blade and dropped into pirate speak, much to Scootaloo’s relief; there was something about his soft, gentle voice and irresistible accent that flustered her to no end. “I’ll have ye know, mouthy lass, that the brigand that stole me blade an’ bandana is a crafty one, an’ I’ve yet t’ figure a way t’ best the beast, either in combat or wit.”

“Well, then maybe you just need the aid of an ally!” Scootaloo declared, dropping into a fighting stance and scoring the ground. “Let me at ‘im! I’ll take on anypony who wrongs my captain!”

Huh, that’s strange. When she said the word “my,” it made my chest feel all funny! I’ll have to ask Luna about... wait, no! She must be trying to steal my heart again! Leaping away to put some distance between himself and the Harpy actively tying his mind in knots and sharing a little of the fire he himself had stoked within the filly, whether intentionally or not, Pipsqueak stood tensed, ready to defend himself at a moment’s notice. “So, the deckhoof thinks she can steal my treasure chest, does she?” he taunted, chuckling softly. “Yer tricks won’t work, Harpy! This colt won’t go down without a fight!”

“Harpy? Siren? Sheesh, make up your mind, Pipsqueak!” Scootaloo said, straightening up as utter confusion set in. I have no idea what’s going on, but whatever it is, I’m gonna win!

“I’ll make up me mind the second you stop shapeshiftin’!” he shot back, following up the statement with a crazed laugh as he beamed back at Scootaloo and risked falling deeper into insanity. “Ye can’t be a pirate-ninja-thief-dancer-harpy, lass. Yer head will explode from all the... the, um...”

“Awesomeness?”

“Nay, ye’ll just come across as bloomin’ mad.”

“Hey! Now, wait just a second here,” Scootaloo demanded, marching over and staring the colt down. “Let’s get something straight. I can be whoever I want, and whatever I want, whenever I want, and nopony is going to tell me otherwise!” It was spoken not in jest, nor as part of the game, but as a solemn declaration of her newly realized freedom to be who she was in any form it took, and Pipsqueak trembled as he began to realize what Scootaloo really was.

“Ye... ye mean, you’re...”

“That’s right! I’m...”

“A Doppelganger!”

“Worse,” Scootaloo growled in a deep tone while taking a single stomp forward. Pipsqueak’s mind raced to find some creature that matched all of the traits she was showing, but as thought petered out, he realized that there wasn’t one. The creature before him, as fierce and adventurous as she was stunning and beautiful, was one of a kind, not part of any myth or legend, but an honest to Luna pony with superpowers he couldn’t begin to fathom. Humbled by the majestic presence, the colt bowed as the filly made her declaration for all to hear.

“I... am... Scootaloo!” It was a rapturous moment of personal triumph, of victory, of overcoming of one’s fears in order to chase one’s dreams. She could feel her heart racing from sheer excitement, and at that moment, with her eyes closed and the warmth inside beating out that of the afternoon rays, it felt like her future was limitless. Such bliss was fleeting and hastily made its exit as she cracked open her eyes to find Pipsqueak kneeling before her, his sword laid out before him with his bandana and eyepatch laid aside with his head bowed. “What the hay are you doing, Pipsqueak? You look like a squire waiting to be knighted or something.”

“If thou wouldst do me the honor, my queen, I would forever be in your debt.” Were Scootaloo’s confidence a mirror, it would have thus been shattered as if blasted by a cannon, and her jaw dropped towards the beaten road as she scrambled to pick up the pieces.

Oh no, no no no! This can NOT be permanent! I can’t handle that kind of... whatever it is! Proper talk? Special treatment? Ugh, this is gonna be horrible! I mean, what kind of girl wants that?!? I have to do something! “Who are you and what did you do with the captain?” Scootaloo shouted, dashing over and shaking the colt vigorously while simultaneously trying to deny the fact that simply laying hooves on him in her current state stoked the flames of mushiness from smoldering to bonfire. “Wake up, Pipsqueak! I want my pirate back!”

She said “my” again! Hey, maybe I should try it... “My lady, wouldst...”

“No! No, I wouldn’t ‘wouldst’ anything!” Scootaloo railed, rearing and holding her head in both hooves before dancing a merry stomping jig of frustration, mostly to keep herself from offering her hoof and cheerfully agreeing to go romp through daffodils and have a nice little picnic by the stream, or whatever ponies did to court one another way back where Pipsqueak’s newly acquired dialect came from. “Come on, captain, there’s still too much I need to learn from you, and I’m not gonna learn anything if I’m too busy wanting to hold your hoof!” Frantic to restore the colt, rocked by an admittance that he himself shared, back to normal, Scootaloo quickly replaced his eye patch and was in the midst of slipping his bandana back on when Pipsqueak spoke.

“...you want to hold my hoof?”

“Duh!” Oh, pony-freaking-feathers! Please tell me I didn’t... no, no time to stall! Gotta speak! “...duh, no! Ewww! Why would I want to do that?” Aside from the obvious reasons... Ugh, I didn’t give you permission to blush! Stupid cheeks... Everything came to a halt as Pipsqueak, still searching for the strength to shift back into his modi operandi, showed a rare moment of lucidity and spoke plainly.

“Oh... rats.”

“...what?” was all Scootaloo could manage in a quiet, timid voice, herself too shaken by being confronted with something she suspected as a possibility and secretly hoped to be a reality suddenly being quite possibly confirmed. There isn’t any way... he likes me like... like that, is there? But... but he’s Pipsqueak! He doesn’t think about anything but adventure! How the hay can he... I don’t get it!

Geez, come on, Pipsqueak! Pull it together! See, just look at her now... she needs the pirate back! All your silly real stuff is boring her... I guess Luna really is the only pony who likes to hear about it. Ok, adventure mode, restarting... initiate! “What’re ye sittin’ around with a face like drippin’ molasses for, eh? Up an’ at ‘em, deckhoof!” Pipsqueak commanded, trotting over and adopting his favorite captain’s sneer. “We’ve got precious little time before we part ways, and I’ll be scuttled if I don’t land us some treasure before then! Avast, set sail!” Drawing his blade, Pipsqueak took off, doing his very best to stow away the boring and the proper for the sake of his fantastic playmate who, in turn, was trying very hard not to be paralyzed by the dreaded power of like.

He... called me his lady... With Pipsqueak far enough away and nopony she knew in plain sight, Scootaloo slowly brought a hoof to her cheek and let the strange, sappy sweetness flood her senses. This... really isn’t that bad... It’s sorta nice. In the obscurity of a crowd and one hoof closer to complete self-acceptance, affection for one dashing rogue teased the corners of one reluctant filly’s mouth into a gentle smile.

Exhausted, more filthy than she could ever remember being, and strangely all right with the mud caking her coat, stood Silver Spoon. While a number of carrots had met an early harvest as the fillies energy mounted and weed became nearly indistinguishable from vegetable, she couldn’t help but take a moment to reflect upon the strange sense of fulfilment she had gleaned from such an uncouth task, and even more so the gratitude she held for the pony who hadn’t given up and left her alone, but stuck around her day in, day out since their meeting in the park. Ruby paused with a large weed, one of the last of its kind still remaining in the garden, dangling from her mouth as she regarded the beaming filly with a grin, and shortly after a confused frown as Silver Spoon immediately turned away and busied herself with a few tender shoots that would dare draw nutrients away from the carrots.

Why does she keep doing that? I swear, I can’t look at her for more than two seconds before she turns away. “Hey,” Ruby called out, dropping the root and trotting over. “Am I really that dirty that you can’t stand to look at me?”

“Um... yes, you’re filthy,” Silver Spoon shot back, glancing at her but still refusing eye contact. The sound of retreating hooves bid Silver Spoon adjust her glasses and peer after her new friend, trotting away without a word. Having spent her time with somepony that only looked after her own interests, Silver Spoon had quickly learned to tune out her own conscience, but with that limitation no longer in place, unfamiliar emotions like “guilt” and “concern” began to trickle in, leaving her shaken and worried. I... didn’t mean that. Don’t... walk away. The memory of her former best friend mirroring the motion flashed back to mind and she turned away, cringing as doubt threatened undo the wonder that had been woven in kindness for the last three days. Come back... Come back...

“Clean time!” Elation was met head on by a concentrated stream of frigid water as Silver Spoon turned just in time to catch the blast of the hose full in the face. Lifting her glasses, no longer useful on account of the droplets blocking her view, Silver Spoon looked out to find Ruby just as cheerful as ever, grinning with the hose poised and ready for further showers. What the... ok, well, she’s not freaking out, that’s good, but she’s turning red again. Is she... blushing? No, that can’t be right. “Hey, are you...”

“Cold, wet, and muddy? Quite, thank you. Give me that!” Silver Spoon snapped, racing over and yanking the hose away, holding it a moment while she attempted to calm herself, though it wasn’t anger that had her wound up. Shaking her head, she hung her glasses from her necklace and blasted Ruby point blank, causing her to stumble and fall amongst the plants in a sputtering heap of glee. From afar, Carrot Top watched as the two romped through her garden, racing willy nilly and generally paying little attention to the plants they were now stomping after working to keep them growing most of the afternoon, but the loss of product meant little in the face of witnessing the scene playing out before her.

“Hmmm, I wonder...” she mused, smiling a little and shaking her head. “No, it couldn’t be...” Or could it? I can’t imagine Silver Spoon “stooping” to gardening on a whim... It was none of her business, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy a simple scene of good, clean fun, and this she did, grabbing a second hose and evening the odds, laughing as the two went at it for a time before coming for her. Their mutual foe put to flight, Silver Spoon lifted her eyes towards a dripping pink unicorn and offered a smile and an outstretched hoof. There was a soggy clop as the truce was struck, and laughter followed in Carrot Top’s wake as they both walked back towards the mare’s house side by side.

I, Spike, do hereby declare that henceforth, I shall never complain about Twilight’s cooking ever again. Furthermore, I... uh oh... From outside the bathroom, Sweetie Belle cringed as the telltale sounds of stomach upheaval sounded from within the portal, bringing with it the worst feelings of failure and inadequacy she had felt since she had gotten under her sister’s skin before the Sisterhooves Social. Ugh, I’d think that if my stomach could handle rocks, it could handle... spagh... oh, geez...

Mortified, horrified, and very much wishing she hadn’t shown such enthusiasm in presenting her “treat” to a dragon she knew was liable to push stupidity to new limits if it meant she’d be happy, Sweetie Belle sat outside the door with her head held between her hooves. In a way, it was flattering the way he choked down everything, but the groans and other guttural noises of immense discomfort negated any pride she could have taken, both in herself and her dragon’s sacrifice. It wasn’t just a serving of each that Spike had eaten, but every last morsel of every discolored slush she mistakenly labeled as “food” in her fervor had been consumed and each dish licked clean, landing Spike with the worst upset stomach he had experienced since Celestia sent back a year’s worth of letters via dragon mail.

What can I say? Nothing! I messed everything up again, and now Spike’s holed up in the bathroom, feeling miserable... “Dumb lunch! This was supposed to be an apology!” Sweetie Belle suddenly shouted, throwing herself onto the floor and scooting over to the bed to make use of the ample hiding space underneath. “It’s a good thing I didn’t try to plan a date or something. He’d probably end up in the hospital!” Spike would have loved to go out and reassure his crush that, while strange and likely repulsive to most anypony else, the taste hadn’t actually been that bad, though his stomach had yet to settle. However, as she continued to rant about this, that, and her other imagined shortcoming, Spike dragged himself over to the door and drew the line at “useless.”

“Sweetie Belle, you’re kinda ruining the whole ‘sacrificial coltfriend’ thing I was going for by kicking yourself! Could you please just be quiet?”

“Like I’m not supposed to be bothered that you just put ‘sacrifice’ next to ‘coltfriend?’ Is that really how you feel about me?”

“Ugh, are you kidding me?” Spike groaned, feebly giving the door a pound with a loosely clenched fist. “Sweetie Belle, if I didn’t know you were trying your best, I wouldn’t be in here puking my guts out!” For a time, the only sound he heard was the rumbling within, and with a sigh, he calmed himself and tried to think about things from her perspective. If I had landed Sweetie Belle in a position like this, it wouldn’t matter what she said... But that doesn’t matter now; it’s Sweetie Belle! I have to do something to cheer her up...

I’m sorry, Spike. The last thing you deserve is more of my yelling... Poking her head out from under the bed skirt, she stared at the door a moment before slowly scooting her way over. “Spike?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry...”

“I know. Can I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead...”

“Um... I, uh... where...” Bringing her hooves forward, Sweetie Belle eased herself into a sitting position as the dragon’s stammers roused her curiosity.

What could he possibly be thinking about at a time like this that could make him get tongue-tied? There’s nothing romantic about vomit... is there? No, that’s just silly and really, really gross. So what in Equestria is he thinking?

“...nevermind.”

“Hey, no fair!” Sweetie Belle whined, standing upright and scowling at the door as if it were the perpetrator an age old crime: rousing a girl’s wonder and never delivering relief. “You can’t do that to me, Spike!”

“Sorry, I’m not asking.”

“Oh, come on!”

“Sweetie Belle, I don’t want to ask you out through a door, ok? Sheesh!” Any and all arguments that were forming or could form were promptly erased from Sweetie Belle’s mind as she was rocked by an equally struck dragon’s unwitting revelation, impressing upon her that whether due to sheer stubbornness, lack of concern for his mortal well being, hopeless infatuation, or a combination of all three, she was still his number one, and he wanted her to know it. Spike’s ear twitched at the sound of a hoof coming to rest upon the door, and while it wasn’t the most articulate declaration of adoration, he still found the wherewithal to look past his discomfort and smile, placing his claw on the other side.

“Dumb dragon... hurry and throw it all up so I can hug you.”

Only One

Chapter 11: Only One

Time had passed, and the weekend had finally come, though what made that particular Saturday notable wasn’t the lack of class attendance or the procrastination of a filly diligently avoiding her homework, but the much anticipated mingling of two families from different walks of life. Applejack glanced over as Applebloom made her triumphant entry into the kitchen with a spring in her step and a gleam in her eye, giving her pause as she noted that a larger grin couldn’t be found in all of Sweet Apple Acres. It was an honest display of youthful wonder, and it warmed her heart.

“It’s almost like she’s excited or somethin,’” Applejack mused, tossing her sister an apple as she all but danced into the kitchen. “Does he really make ya that happy, Bloom?”

“Uh huh! Ah mean, ‘o course!” she instantly corrected. “Dang, ah’m talkin’ like ‘im already? Ah thought it was supposed to be the other way around... Hey, Silver!” she called out, trotting over to the unicorn with a coat to match his name and a deep blue mane. “About how long did ya ‘ave t’ spend with Applejack before you started talkin’ like her?”

“Well, let’s see... ‘bout a month, maybe?” he pondered aloud, raising a thoughtful hoof to his goatee and letting a little bit of a drawl taint his refined Manehatten accent. “And from what ah hear, it’s been just shy of a week fer you, right?”

“Uh h... darn it, that ain’t right! Ah mean, it is, but... gah, ah can’t believe this!” she exclaimed, trotting over to the fridge and devouring another apple. “Now listen, before ah’m off t’ find mah friends an’ y’all start plannin’ t’ embarrass me so badly nopony wants t’ even think ‘bout courtin’ me, ah wanna lay down a few rules o’ my own.”

“Ah suppose that’s only fair,” Applejack conceded with a grin, taking a seat beside Silver and turning giving the filly her full attention. “Fire away, sugarcube. This evenin’ will go just fine, with or without yer worryin’.”

“Huh, says you. Firstly, Applejack? You make sure that prankster of a husband o’ yours leaves ‘is dang fangled poison joke extracts at home. The last thing ah need t’ make a good impression on Rumble and ‘is family is fer mahself t’ take a drink o’ juice an’ suddenly find that ah’ve become a colt.”

“It’s like she can read mah mind,” Applejack murmured, forcing Silver take a drink to stave off a chuckle. “Wait just a minute, who’s impressin’ who now?”

“Number two,” Applebloom continued, ignoring the inquiry. “Ah know this may come as a shock t’ the both of you, but Cloudchaser and Flitter ain’t exactly family, but ah expect ‘em t’ be treated as such.”

“Not family? Wait, they ain’t ‘is sisters?”

“No, their his fillyfriends.” Oh, ponyfeathers... Ah probably should have mentioned this sooner, but it didn't even cross mah mind until now! Have ah really adjusted to it that fast? Ah hope Applejack can do the same. Don’t even strike me as terribly odd anymore...

“When ya say ‘fillyfriends,’ ya mean, like... both of ‘em?” Applejack reaffirmed, her mind doing its best to process the information but repeatedly sending back a very loud and clear “does not compute.”

“T-that’s right.”

“Two mares, one colt?” she asked again, still not comperehending how such a thing could even work.

“...yes.”

“Like, together?”

“C’mon, Applejack, quit playin’ dumb! They’re all real nice, an’ ah expect you t’ treat ‘em kindly even if ya don’t agree with ‘ow they live.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad,” Silver chuckled, accepting the expected glare and grinning playfully in return.

“If it weren’t fer the fact that ah know you were lyin’ just now, you’d have good cause t’ run. An’ Applebloom, doesn’t that worry you just a little?” Applejack continued, her tone growing serious as she called Applebloom’s attention to something she hadn’t even considered. “From what you’ve told me, Rumble really looks up t’ Thunderlane, an’ if havin’ multiple partners is somethin’ he’s grown up with, then he may well try the same. Are you prepared t’... ugh, ah don’t even want t’ say it, but are ya willin’ t’ share?”

“O’ course not! If he asks me t’ be his special somepony an’ then asks somepony else, he’s gonna have a lot worse t’ worry about than a mallet twixt his ears!” Applebloom exclaimed, leaping onto the table. “Not even one o’ Twilight’s fire rages would even come close t’ the trouble that colt would be in fer two timin’ me. Ah can accept ‘is brother, but ah’m not about t’ share mah Rumble!”

“‘Yer Rumble,’ huh?”

“Dear Celestia, ah said that, didn’t ah...” she murmured, staring blanking into space before throwing her hooves up in exasperated submission to the unalterable facts of life; she was smitten. It was going to escape her muzzle as it had been for the last day or so, and would continue to do so with or without her consent. Besides, it was Applejack she was talking to, and anything less would be subject to immediate evisceration should it not be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the embarrassing, painful truth of her growing affection for a certain bumbling colt that was as gentle as he was prone to breaking himself and everything else. “Oh, ferget it! Yes, that’s right, ah said ‘mah Rumble’ an’ ah’ll say it again!”

“I knew my brother had started a growing trend of falling in love here in Ponyville, but I never imagined it would trickle down to the youth. And yet,” a mare with a coat almost the same hue of red as Big Mac’s continued, smiling coyly, “I must say that your stubborn declaration of love is absolutely adorable.”

“Crimson, you ain’t helpin’ none,” Applebloom stated flatly, casting an imploring eye at Big Macintosh as the burly stallion took his place beside his wife, currently engaged in the infuriating laughter known as a titter. “Would ya kindly make her stop that awful racket?”

“Eeyup,” came the reply, followed by a tender kiss that served a dual purpose to both silence the overly sensuous mare and bring Applebloom around to her final point.

“Thank ya kindly fer that overly mushy display, brother. An’ that reminds me. Fer the love of all things good in Equestria, keep yer muzzles t’ yerselves! Ah mean it, sis, brother, and appropriate significant others!” she warned, glaring at each in turn. “The last thing ah need is more encouragement towards givin’ in t’ Rumble’s over-powered romantic charms, an’... uh... an’, ya know... it might... make me think ‘bout...” she trailed off, her volume dive-bombing to the point that not a pony could make out the soft mumbles as the filly fiddled with her hooves and let her eyes roam the ceiling and floors, thankful that neither had eyes.

“Sweetheart, ah know that look,” Silver said with a grin, glancing across at Applejack who was resting her head on a hoof.

“Yeah, lemme guess... it’s the one ah use with you, ain’t it?”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac answered for him, turning to Applebloom who was now making much the same face as her sister. “Applebloom, ah know it’s the weekend, but what will all the crazy goin’ on, like Discord stoppin’ by an’ you an’ yer friends findin’ colts an’ such, ah think it’d do ya good t’ spend a little time at home. How about takin’ a day off from yer friends an’ helpin’ around the farm? There’s plenty t’...”

“That’s a great idea!” she exclaimed, immediately perking up. “Ah’m sure a few chores would help keep me from walkin’ around with mah head in the clouds.” Applejack couldn’t help but comment, just as Applebloom couldn’t help but lament her license to carry her mallet being revoked.

“That is where pegasi belong, after all...” Applejack murmured, doing her best to cast thing in a comedic light to stave off her own rising inhibitions about the coming evening.

“...yer lucky ah don’t have mah mallet, sis.” Actually, that ain’t a bad idea. If ah could fly, then ah could spend some time alone without anypony gettin’ on mah case or teasin’ me about this, that, an’ everythin’ else. Ah wonder if Twilight would ‘ave any ideas on that? Oh well, it’ll have t’ wait, ah guess. Her fanciful dreams of flight were interrupted by the manehatten accent of Applejack’s special somepony, who Applebloom found a good deal less irritating than her sister more often than not.

“You know, Applebloom, if you can’t handle a little teasin' like that, then how are you going to deal with...”

“Atteeention! Now listen ‘ere, you sloppy lot! There’s trouble abrewin’, and we better be prepared fer the invasion!” Applebloom could quote rules all day, offer money, fame, and anything else like a genie, but when it came down to it, the rickety mare inching her way into the kitchen with her favorite cooking pot poised atop her head was a loose cannon of embarrassment just itching to go off, with or without provocation.

“Granny Smith, would...”

“Of course ah wouldn’t let anypony ditch their duties. What kind o’ silly question is that? Now, git sweepin’, whippersnapper! We ain’t gonna draw battle lines outta dust, no way, no how! An’ what’re the rest o’ you loungin’ around for? You know the drill, an’ I ain’t about to repeat myself! Hop to it!” Laughter contrasted nicely with the muffled groan of a filly who knew any hopes for a peaceful dinner had been court martialed, and Applejack turned a sympathetic eye to the filly, reasoning that if Rumble could survive both a mallet and all the eccentricity her family could provide, it would serve as good as any proving grounds. Sparing a moment and braving a grandmother’s wrath, Applejack trotted over and helped Applebloom to her hooves, giving her an encouraging smile and rustling her mane a bit.

“Good luck, Applebloom. Ah’m sure Rumble will do just fine, but yer gonna need all the help you can get.” Grateful that she could count her sister as an ally gave Applebloom the courage to face whatever came that evening, though her confidence took a hit quite literally as she found herself poleaxed by a broom handle.

“No lollygaggin’!” Granny Smith demanded, trotting over and staring down at the dazed filly rubbing at her head. “What’re you lyin’ around for, soldier? Up an’ at ‘em!” From her altered perspective from her place on the floor, Applebloom again reached the same conclusion she had the day dinner had first been suggested.

“Ah’m so doomed...” Unfortunately, as she slunk off to tend to whatever task Granny Smith had in store for her, Applejack just happened to catch a glimpse of the calendar hanging in the kitchen, causing her the same harrowing sensation of impending ruination that Applebloom felt.

“Oh, Celestia, have mercy... Our poor little sister...”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac added sagely, very much of the same mindset as Applejack who was staring at a very bright red circle around that morning’s date. Time had raced past at breakneck pace, and Applejack wished with all her mind, while it still remained intact, that the red harbinger of chaos was simply a reminder that Rumble and his family were due over later that evening for dinner, but it wasn’t. Not even the shocking fact that Thunderlane was reported to be dating two mares at once could have worried Applejack more than the storm that was brewing: one that was sure to test the bonds of family to the utmost.

Saturday: the most revered day of the week in any young colt or filly’s mind. A precious allotment of twenty-four short hours with which to shirk responsibility, put homework off for just a little longer, and gather with one’s friends to engage in good, not always clean but mostly well-intentioned fun. It was with this in mind that on a brisk Autumn morning, three fillies, two colts, and one dragon gathered in the spacious Ponyville park for a game as old as shenanigan’s themselves: tag. However, where once this game with but one or two rules could be played with reckless abandon, the group would soon discover that blossoming attraction altered the playing field dramatically. As Spike officiously announced the rules and designated a “safe zone,” Scootaloo gave Pipsqueak a lopsided grin and made a wager the Captain couldn’t well refuse.

“Ahoy, Captain! How would you feel about making a little bet?”

“Luck’s on me side an’ fortune in me sails this mornin’, lass. Name yer stakes!” Pipsqueak shot back, matching her smile and shedding his eye patch.

“Let’s pit the power of the pirate versus the power of the ninja. Whenever one of us gets tagged, we have to go for each other. Whoever has been tagged the most at the end loses. It’s not fair to you, really,” she prodded, adopting a haughty sneer. “I’ll win by no less than five points.”

“Oh ho, now ain’t that a bold claim!” Pipsqueak laughed, holding a hoof to his gut and practically bursting with anticipation. “Aye, this’ll be a breeze. Ye couldn’t stop me from takin’ that wager even with an army o’ one hundred at yer back, but for the sake of that fanciful mind o’ yers, what kind o’ hideous torture am I in for if I lose, eh?”

“Loser has to wear a dress in public.” Pipsqueak gawked at the filly’s boldness, a motion that filled him with both pride and excitement. If, by some strange chance, the orange pegasus with a regal stare had stolen his heart as Luna had said, Pipsqueak was starting to think he could learn to live with that. A wager of such magnitude mandated a traditional pirate hoofshake, and Scootaloo mirrored his motion, spitting onto her hoof and slapping it to the Captain’s... only to realize that spittle came from the mouth, and it was now touching her hoof, and that was almost like having her hoof kissed, which resulted in one filly hastily wiping it off on the nearest tuft of grass while simultaneously hoping that the faint warmth in her cheeks wasn’t enough to show through.

“Don’t go gettin’ all prissy on me now, lass, the fun has yet to begin.” Whether secretly trying to encourage her or simply having her competitive spirit roused by his jibes, Scootaloo refocused and readied herself as whatever long-winded dissertation on a game as simple as “get got, go get” was brought to a close.

“...and those are the rules. No magic, no flying, and no tagbacks. Got it?” Spike wrapped up, receiving nods all around. “Ok, on your mark... get set... You’re it!” Taking great care to be both swift and gentle, Spike tapped Sweetie Belle’s shoulder and took off running. Laughter filled the air as everypony scattered, with Rumble and Pipsqueak darting towards the sandy beach that housed the swinging contraptions and Ruby fleeing from Sweetie Belle, hot on her trail. In a stunning turn of events, Sweetie Belle ditched her pursuit of one nimble unicorn and took off after Scootaloo, who had taken her eyes off the action for just a moment before finding them glued to a certain painted earth pony, currently returning the favor. It wasn’t so much of a “tag” as it was a full body tackle, given that Sweetie Belle expected Scootaloo to dodge away at the last minute, but as they collapsed in a giggling heap, Scootaloo rose from the dust with fire in her eyes.

“Ok, time to test yer mettle, Captain...”

“You know, technically, I don’t know that kissing counts as a tag, Scootaloo. You could always try, though!” Sweetie Belle tittered, looking up at her friend who still adamantly denied having feelings for anypony. Completely in the zone, Scootaloo’s words came through unfiltered, much to her dismay and Sweetie Belle’s thorough amusement.

“Oh, I’ll do more than kiss when I get my hooves on him...”

“Really? Awww, that’s so cute!”

“Huh? What’re you... no, wait, I didn’t mean it like that!” Scootaloo sputtered, shaking her head vigorously as Sweetie Belle gave a squeal and took off running. “Get back here!”

“No tagbacks, no tagbacks!” Sweetie Belle called over her shoulder, pushing herself for all she was worth as a friend she knew to be swifter than she made it quite clear that the game wasn't as pressing a concern as delivering her a perfectly justifiable pummeling.

“I’m not going to tag you, I’m going to pound you!”

“Can’t!” Sweetie Belle shouted gleefully, jumping up atop a bench that, to the casual observer, was just like any other, but offered a haven and refuge to any weary soul that could survive the harrowing journey to make it there. At least, for sixty seconds. “Safe zone!”

“Just you wait till this is over...” Scootaloo growled, spinning around and eyeing her mark. Nopony else mattered as the orange pegasus took off at a full gallop, homing in on Pipsqueak who stood his ground while the rest scattered. Sweetie Belle was in the midst of working on a second wind when she realized that the game may have just become one sided, and really, it may just be more entertaining that way, her conclusion solidified as the wager began with gusto. The moment Scootaloo set hoof in the sandbox area, Pipsqueak proved that one didn’t have to fancy himself a warrior of the shadows to be dextrous, using hoof and mouth alike to shimmy up the chain links holding the swings and flipping onto the support beam that ran the length of the swing set.

“What’s the matter, deckhoof? Ain’t ye gonna tag me?” Pipsqueak laughed, peering down at Scootaloo who was in the midst of deciding whether or not to stare in awe or stomp the ground in frustration.

How the hay did he manage to get up there so fast? And without wings? I mean, I knew he was awesome, but that was... beyond awesome! Come on, Scootaloo! Are you gonna let him show you up like that? “Not a chance,” she grit out, her eyes darting around the various toys and equipment, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“Oi, I’m gettin’ bored, lass. Ye make a poor entertainer, and an even worse rival.” Ok, well, not really. This is the most fun I’ve had since burying the treasure and fending off the Gatekeeper! We should do that again sometime... I wonder if she’d go for that? But I haven’t really seen her fight, except for when she uses “Charm.” I wonder what else she could do? While Pipsqueak conjured plans for a true test of Scootaloo’s skill on the battlefield, Scootaloo proved that she didn’t need wings to be graceful. Running to gain speed, she dove onto a swing, waiting until she was at the peak to jump, latch her hooves around the support, and let the momentum propel her in a full circle before launching into a beauteous back-flip, landing on two hooves and expertly balanced on the support.

“Whoa, that was amazing!” Ruby gasped, with Rumble and the other two nodding their agreement as they gathered around.

“I’ve made plenty of bets with the captain before, and I’ve never won a single one,” Rumble explained, sharing Scootaloo’s glee as she closed in on her immobile prey. “I think my captain may just have met his match.” Graceful in motion, but not so much in deed, Scootaloo towered over the colt, standing on her hind legs with her hooves crossed and a wicked grin while she watched the defenseless rogue, too ingrained in his future plans to notice the orange lightning about to strike.

...and then I could teach her to spar, and together, we could take down anything! Oh, I can’t wait to... fly? “Whoa, wh- ooph!” With all the gentle tenderness of a sorely agitated rhinoceros, Scootaloo shoved Pipsqueak from the bow of his vessel, flinching slightly as the colt hit the ground in a cloud of dust. Coughing a little to coax the oxygen back into his lungs, which begrudgingly removed their “do not disturb” sign and allowed air traffic to resume, Pipsqueak pried open his eyes to see Scootaloo peering down at him with a relaxed smile.

“Captain, I know pirates are known to be tricky, but that’s no excuse to break the rules so soon. Weren’t you listening? They said no flying!”

“...ye got sass, Scootaloo,” he wheezed, shaking his head slowly. “I’m ashamed o’ meself, bein’ bested so easily. Aye, that’s a point for ye. Ahoy, first mate!”

“Aye, Captain?” Rumble replied, having been on his way to make sure Pipsqueak was all right in the first place.

“Help me up,” the colt commanded, waving a hoof weakly in the air and instantly being hoisted up by his dutiful friend.

“Anything else?”

“What, are ye daft?” Pipsqueak chuckled, cantering away as he sought a bench to recuperate. “O’ course there is! You’re it!” Rumble stared after him for a moment before slapping a hoof to his forehead upon realizing he’d been duped, and easily at that.

“Seems the mallet did more damage than you thought, huh?” Ruby chuckled, dodging nimbly backwards as Rumble took a swipe at the filly. “What, going to hit a lady? Now, that’s not very polite!”

“Nuh uh!” Rumble cheered, darting after her as she had planned. Ruby wasn’t the most athletic pony around, and she knew that sooner rather than later she’d be overtaken, but she had a plan. No, it wouldn’t quite save her from being it, but then, the safe zone was much farther away than the bathrooms, which were the closest thing to secluded around. Making it behind the structure in the nick of time, Ruby ground to a halt without realizing just how close to being tagged she was. Rumble took a tumble and came out on top... of Ruby.

“Oh my, I think I must be it then,” Ruby whispered, unsure of if her shortage of breath was due to touching Rumble, or if he was just heavy and pressuring her lungs.

“Uh... huh?” Rumble murmured, rising to his hooves but remaining locked in place as if held in place by an outside force. Why does this feel so... wrong? There’s nothing bad about liking two mares, and I don’t think I even feel that way about her, but I... this doesn’t... Having never been confronted with the possibility nor desire to mirror his brother, Rumble stood paralyzed in thought, unable to deny the faint blush rising in the filly’s cheeks nor the heat within his own.

I’ll never find a better time to ask than now... I haven’t hardly gotten to hang around him, and he’s normally with Applebloom. I mean, how could I ask with her standing right there? That’s practically begging for a mallet nap! So... “R-Rumble?”

“Uh... huh?”

“Would... would you ever... possibly... date two fillies?” As he suspected and feared, she was thinking exactly what he had been contemplating, and now that she had voiced it aloud, it demanded an answer.

I don’t... I don’t know. If there were two fillies I liked, what would I do? Thunderlane always told me not to try, and I wouldn’t want to disappoint him, and I don’t think Applebloom would... As soon as her name came to mind, he stepped away, putting a pony length between himself and Ruby. She slowly sat up, looking into eyes that radiated sympathy, regret, and a calm acceptance of the two. “No.”

“...I see.” While the filly now staring at the ground wasn’t his fillyfriend, or even the one he hoped to ask someday soon, it wasn’t in him to simply ignore her condition, so he slowly cantered back over and sat down beside her.

“I don’t think it’s bad, but it was... really hard on my brother, and I’m sure he doesn’t want to see me have to go through the same thing. And... well, can you keep a secret?”

“You’re not going to leave me hanging and not tell me what it is the moment I say ‘yes,’ are you?” Ruby murmured, glancing across at the colt and becoming even more unsure of how she felt as he smiled, slowly shaking his head.

“I... really, um... really like Applebloom.”

“That’s it?!?” Ruby shrieked, throwing her hooves into the air and falling onto her back. “A secret is something special that nopony else can know, not something so painfully obvious that you may as well have it stamped to your forehead!”

“I do, actually!” Rumble corrected, rubbing what remained of the lump while Ruby heaved an overly dramatic sigh and let her limbs go limp. “I just want to make her happy, and I don’t think she’s interested in, you know... sharing.”

“She’s a territorial one, huh?”

“Uh huh!” Ruby couldn’t help but smile at the colt’s unabashed infatuation, and she rebounded quickly, standing upright and looking Rumble in the eye.

“Thank you for telling me straight, Rumble. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable or anything, asking you my question.”

“Nuh uh! Friends, right?”

“Well, duh!” Ruby quipped, holding out her hoof, grinning as she accepted the ensuing hoofshake as the universal sign of a platonic bond that it was. Unable to contain herself, Sweetie Belle blew her cover, and that of everypony else who had gathered after hearing the collision take place, gleefully blowing it out of proportion and moving their day along at a leisurely breakneck pace. After all, what’s a good day with friends without a little drama?

“Rumble is holding Ruby’s hoof! Everypony to Sweet Apple Acres!”

“No, wait! Come back!” Rumble cried, holding out a hoof before tearing after them, shouting frantically all the while. Who could blame him? After all, those ponies that he had assumed were his friends were actually laughing at the thought of sentencing him to a very painful nap in one of the highly uncomfortable beds in the Ponyville Clinic. “You guys, don’t tell that to Applebloom! I don’t want to go to the hospital! Guys~!”

“You call that scrubbin’, soldier?” Granny Smith barked, trotting to and fro while offering absolutely no help whatsoever. Applebloom had, after two hours of said drilling, effectively learned to tune out the unbridled eccentricity of the mad mare with a mind o’ moldy mush that still somehow managed to be the craftiest cuckoo in the nest, but what she couldn’t believe is how badly she wanted a break. It was harvest season; she spent plenty of time helping out around the farm, doing much more gruelling tasks than dusting or cleaning the floors, but for whatever reason, having an ever-present rickety nag bellowing into her ears seemed to make time creep by like a cricket with its hind legs glued together and stuck and a generous portion of cold molasses. Convinced it was already three in the afternoon and well past lunch time, Applebloom looked up at the clock that had barely struck ten, dropped her scouring pad, and promptly flopped onto the floor, unable to continue without a good dose of fresh air and rational thought.

“Granny Smith, ah appreciate that yer tryin’ so hard t’ get things ship shape fer...” Applebloom started, falling silent as she found the perfect way to relax. The ship! Ah ain’t had time hardly t’ pay it any attention! Why, ah can almost smell that moldy timber, hear that poor thing callin’ mah name... “Can ah take a break? Ah’ve been cleanin’ all mornin’! An’ besides, ah’ve done this floor twice already!”

“What’s that you’re sayin’ now, private?” Granny Smith sneered, raising an eye wide and scrutinizing the filly before looking down and admiring her reflection in the washed and nicely polished hardwood surface. “Oh ho, lookit that! It’s my twin! How’re you doin’ today? Oh, ah’m just peachy, thank ye kindly!” Accepting flagrant senility as a reasonable out, Applebloom snuck out the door and ran for the safety of the barn, slamming the door shut behind her and breathing a sigh of relief.

“At last!” Applebloom yelped to herself, darting over and cannonballing into a pile of hay. “Peace, an’ quiet, an’... an’ not shoutin’ at doorknobs and throwin’ teeth at the honey t’ see if they’d eat it all on their own! What pony does that, huh?” Taking a deep breath, Applebloom held it while she shifted gears, quieting herself and allowing a faint chuckle to escape. “Ok, so maybe it’s a little funny, but all mornin’? Ah’m young! It’ll drive a poor filly crazy! Ain’t that right, Rotterdam?” she inquired, popping out of the hay with an enthusiastic grin only to find that her friend had fallen victim to further degradation due to her negligence.

“Rotterdam, why didn’t you tell me you were gettin’ worse?” Applebloom cried, rushing over and running a hoof along one of the few side panels that still remained attached to the decrepit vessel she had “rescued” from the forest. “Don’t you worry, Rotty, it’s gonna be all right! Ah’ll patch you up right as rain, you’ll see.” Soothed and reassured by the filly’s kind words, the skiff dutifully maintained what fragments of structural integrity remained while Applebloom searched for the proper tools to play doctor: mallet, nails, saw, and lots and lots of glue. Returning with her carpentry bandages, the filly got right to work, moving one of the side panels towards the bow and easily fixing the nail in place with a gentle press, the wood all but splintering at the slightest pressure. Grabbing her mallet, Applebloom took aim, closed her eyes, and gave it a good Apple family whack.

While Rumble and Ruby had managed to blunder through an explanation that staved off his impending concussion, the group still decided to see if they could rope Applebloom into joining them for some fun, and thus, the cluster of friends found themselves chatting happily as they approached the clubhouse. Upon finding the assumed location of the missing crusader to be false, they made towards the barn at Rumble’s suggestion. The laughter all around became a dull murmur as the colt took a little time to ponder what had happened in the park, as well as the inevitable unveiling of the information to Applebloom.

It’s only been around a week since I met Applebloom, but can I really say she’s the only filly I’d like to be with? There have to be hundreds of girls my age, but... does that matter? Is it... really ok for me to choose already? I don’t want to ever break up with anypony. It’d hurt, and I’d always remember it...

“Dear Celestia, what ‘ave ah done?!?” At the sound of Applebloom’s cry echoing through the orchard and most definitely coming from the barn that the colt’s hooves had automatically carried him towards, Rumble’s didn’t give it a second thought as he spread his wings and launched into the air, making a beeline towards the building in the distance while the rest of the group followed below. They all arrived around the same time, and just as a hoof was raised to open the door, they all stood still and listened. “Ah’m so sorry, Rotty! I was only tryin’ t’ help, not blow ya t’ pieces! ...ah know it hurts! No, ah ain’t... now hold on, just listen t’ me!”

“‘Rotty?’” Scootaloo whispered, all eyes turning to Rumble who was every bit as lost as everypony else. Cracking the door open just a hair, one farm filly’s friends squished together to watch one pony prove that what goes in, which in this case was nonsensical rambling to the non-living, was also bound to come out.

“Please, give me another chance! Ah’ll be gentler, ah promise!” Applebloom begged, cradling a few of the larger scraps of wood that weren’t splattered into mushy toothpicks with her fell swing. “Ah don’t need t’ use a mallet, ah got glue! Doesn’t that sound nice? Sparkly, gooey glue t’ make you all better.” There was a moment of total silence wherein Applebloom leaned forward ever so slightly before springing to her hooves and throwing the pieces every which way in her elation. “Ya mean it? You’ll take me back? Oh, thank you, Rotterdam! C’mere, you cute little hunk o’ boat! Who’s a good boat? That’s right, yes you are!”

Nearly purple from concealing their laughter at the scene, Applebloom tipped her audience over the edge as she flopped down onto her chest and quite unashamedly nuzzled the patient, understanding craft with her hooves spread wide as if to hug the most forgiving skiff she’d ever met. Whirling at an explosion of many voices laughing to see a flailing hoof knocked the barn door wide open, Applebloom shot from cream to crimson as she realized that her affair had been witnessed. There, with the rest of her friends rolling on the ground, stood Rumble the Betrayed, his stone-faced gaze penetrating deep into the reaches of the soul of a filly who stood convicted. The dirt and grime clinging to her coat bore testament to her infidelity, and with nowhere to hide, she rushed over to a colt spurned and shirked her petty rules of minimal contact, proceeded to throw her hooves around his neck and plea for mercy.

“Ah didn’t mean t’ get frisky with mah boat, honest!” Rumble’s silence did little to reassure a filly who was convinced she was about to be dumped before she was even taken, though her declaration did threaten to cause a few blackouts amongst her breathless friends. “Ah don’t know how it happened, Rumble, ah swear it! Ah was just takin’ a break, an’ then ah tried t’ patch ‘im up, an’... an’ ah tried to nail somethin’ an’ it exploded just like the roof o’ mah fort!” Oh, great plan, Applebloom! Like he wants t’ hear ‘bout that again? It’s all over... Ah’m hopeless... Frantic self-justification shifted to dread as a tug on her hooves threatened to bring her to tears, but she had no right to keep her hooves around the one she had spurned, lavishing her affection on another. As her hooves slid away, a light gray hoof caught one of hers, lifting it slowly to the second softest mane in Ponyville.

“Rough morning, huh?” he offered softly, coaxing a faint smile from the filly as she slowly began to run her hoof back and forth.

“Uh huh...” she managed, her voice trembling as she realized she wasn’t being cast aside. In fact, as Rumble let out a contented sigh to confound the filly more, he realized that his questions had already been answered. It didn’t matter how many other fillies there were, or if there were ponies more pretty, or funny, or impressive, or anything, because what they didn’t have was an indispensable, quirky obsession with fixing all things broken, or an irresistibly cute bow, or the meanest mallet stroke he’d ever seen or felt. In short, nopony else qualified, because there was only one Applebloom.

“Better than wood?” Rumble offered, as soothed by the massaging motion as the filly was to do so.

“Uh huh!”

“Better than glitter glue?”

“Whoa, now don’t go gettin’ full o’ yerself,” Applebloom chuckled, running one last course through the finest of silken manes before giving him one last, quick squeeze, blushing slightly deeper as the motion was returned. The sensation of rapidly approaching hoofbeats bid her reluctantly release Rumble as Applejack, frantic and wild eyed, burst into view and made straight for her. “Wait, sis, it ain’t that bad! Ah wasn’t...”

“Yeah, whatever, you were havin’ a moment an’ all that, it’s fine,” Applejack interjected, dismissing her sister’s worries without a thought and leaning closer. “Listen, Applebloom, ah just want you t’ know that ah’m sorry, ah didn’t plan this, an’ ah love you dearly.”

“Uh... ok, that’s fine,” Applebloom replied, tilting her head to the side. “What’s got ya so worked up anyhow?” Then she heard it. There was no mistaking the voice, the accent, the bubbly energy just waiting to plummet the rest of her day into a tailspin of never ending chatter and nonsensical hooplah.

“Applejack? Where’d you run off to? It’s been awhile since I’ve been to the farm, and your manners ain’t improved a bit! Don’t you want t’ show me around beautiful Sweet Apple Acres?”

“Oh Celestia, have mercy... ah ain’t ready t’ deal with ‘im...” Applebloom started before none other than her stetson toting, vest wearing cousin of frequent exclamations and flagrant disregard for the comfort of all around strolled over, beaming widely. Embarrassment the coming evening was no longer simply a possible outcome, but an ultimatum carved in stone by lightning from the heavens. “Cousin Braeburn?!?”

Dresses, Lunch, and Glue

Chapter 12: Dresses, Lunch, and Glue

Problem one: Whoever this stallion was that was cantering over without a care in the world and talking a million miles a minute had, simply by his presence, made Applebloom visibly uncomfortable, as Rumble couldn’t well imagine that she had a strong inclination for suddenly dropping into the foetal position and covering her face in addition to her affinity for the choicest inanimate objects the farm had to offer. It was possible, yes, but generally when one is happy, one doesn’t make long, drawn out groaning noises. Problem two: Rumble had been rather enjoying the tender moment in which his mane, clearly made of magic and a far more valuable asset than his bumbling powers of flight, had worked in harmony with his oft limited vocabulary to draw him and Applebloom closer together, and that moment was now officially over. One could say that Braeburn being oblivious to all of this could have constituted and qualified as a third problem, but such was his nature.

“It’s just amazin’ how much everything around here has grown in the few short years I’ve been gone! I mean, just look at Applebloom!” Braeburn chortled, prancing towards the filly quite earnestly making petition to the Diamond Dogs to mistake her for a topaz and whisk her away to the wonderful world of dungeons and dirt. It wasn’t that the filly had any particular dislike for Braeburn, but rather that between him and Granny Smith, her evening was sure to be a delightful soiree of family fun and harrowing memories that would render her positively uncourtable and leave Rumble in need of the next train to nowhere on account of it not being destined for Sweet Apple Acres. “Oh, she’s still wearin’ her ma’s bow! Ain’t that just adorable? Come on now, don’t be like yer sister; show some manners an’ give your cousin a hug!”

Peeling her face from the comforting embrace of the cool earth, Applebloom blinked away a few invading bits of grit that threatened an invasion of her eyes and gave her sister a look which quite clearly read “please help me.” Unfortunately, as Braeburn moved in for the hug regardless of her consent, Applejack shot back the “he’s psycho, he’s family, it’s out of my hooves” look. They hugged. It was painful.

“Oof! Not... so... tight!” Applebloom groaned, her planned attempts at manners by returning the motion suddenly falling through as she used her hooves to press away, if only so she could breathe. What’s he think ah am, a rag doll? Goodness, he’s stronger than he looks! Need... Air...

“Oh! Sorry there, cous!” Braeburn offered, setting the gasping filly down and smiling cheerfully as he continued without a care in the world. “I must have just been too excited to be here in beautiful Sweet Apple Acres! Who are all of you, then?” he inquired, turning an eye to a host of ponies whispering amongst themselves. “Why, you must be Applebloom’s friends! Come on now, don’t be shy! Introduce yourselves!”

“I’m, uh... Sweetie Belle?” the unicorn filly began, nudging Spike to continue. One by one they went through the line, until it came time for Pipsqueak to speak, which he did at length and with great embellishment.

“Ye expect me t’ just give my name to this brigand?” Pipsqueak asked, his face serious and his tone level. “Nay, I don’t give such information out to just anypony.”

“But why not?” Braeburn returned, sounding concerned. “Everypony knows it’s proper to start things off with a name!”

“Not when yer as wanted as I am!” Pipsqueak declared, glancing around and leaping onto a nearby cart. “I’m the purloiner of chocolate pudding and the seven time saboteur of bake sales far and wide! If yer missin’ yer favorite bauble, then it’s already in me chest o’ loot that reaches towards the heavens! I’m the fiercest terror never to sail the seas! I don’t need a name, fer me title speaks more than all the books in Golden Oaks Library! I am... the Captain!” Braeburn gave this due consideration for a moment before shaking his head, saddened again by the woeful conditions of Ponyville’s youth.

“No name, and a heap of lies to boot. Ponyville just ain’t the same, cousin,” Braeburn lamented, turning an eye towards Applejack, currently massaging the side of her head with a hoof. A challenging cry directed his attention once more to the diminutive though dashing rogue who had leapt from his soapbox to make his stand.

“Who are you callin’ a liar then, eh? Let’s settle this over a duel!”

“Aren’t you going to stop him?” Spike whispered, leaning towards Scootaloo who was almost too excited to answer with a whisper.

“Are you kidding? This is going to be awesome!” she shot back, just one pulse of adrenaline away from bouncing in place.

It ain’t been two minutes, and there’s already gonna be a barnyard brawl? Well, if he wants manners, there’s only one colt who can turn things around! “Braeburn, ain’t you fergettin’ somepony?” Applebloom called out, trotting over and giving Rumble an encouraging smile.

“You can’t be a real captain,” Braeburn countered, stubbornly holding to his former appraisal. “After all, everypony knows a good captain has a nice pair of boots, just like a proper settler pony needs a good, trusty hat.”

Critical hit! Pipsqueak is knocked out. Without a further word on the matter and too humiliated to continue the fight, Pipsqueak went stiff, teetering for a moment before flopping onto his side, leaving Braeburn further estranged and ready for a change of pace, himself turning towards a light gray pegasus colt who couldn’t tell if he should be minorly annoyed his mane was no longer receiving adequate tussles, congratulate the stallion for single-hoofedly besting the captain in combat, or seek to avenge his fallen comrade.

“Howdy!” Braeburn began, staring into a docile pair of violet eyes. “I’m Braeburn. What’s your name, then?” In the midst of weighing his options, he caught sight of Applebloom’s pleading glance and laid aside his battle cry, at least for a moment.

I bet this counts as part of Applejack's test... sorry, Captain. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. My name’s Rumble.”

“Well, whaddaya know!” Braeburn cheered, rearing excitedly and usurping Applebloom’s place as primary mane brusher as his faith was restored in Ponyville. “Did you hear that, cous? He called me ‘sir!’ Why, I can’t remember the last time somepony was so polite, even in Appleoosa! Most of the time, I’m lucky to get a “Mr.” in front of my name, and that’s if they even say it right. I mean, ‘dunderhead’ don’t sound anythin’ like ‘Braeburn,’ does it? Little Strongheart is always right kind, though. In fact, wait until you hear about what happened just last week...” No longer in the spotlight, Rumble excused himself to be with Applebloom, who instantly petitioned the colt’s understanding that she already had.

“Ah’m sorry ‘bout this, Rumble. Ah didn’t know he was comin’!”

“Sorry?” Rumble repeated, tilting his head to the side with a playful grin. “You don’t have any reason to be sorry, Applebloom. He seems nice enough, and things certainly won’t be boring with him around.”

“But...” Her protests were cut off as her name, spoken gently and with undeniable affection, one honest declaration dispelling for the moment the myriad of anxieties springing from unexpected happenstance.

“Applebloom, whatever happens, I’ll be right here with you.” Scootaloo ceased her conversation with her expired captain’s “ghost,” Spike grunted as Sweetie Belle’s squeal of delight had an unexpected effect on her hooves, causing them to instantly wrap around the dragon’s torso and tighten, while Ruby opted for the obligatory “awwww!” as she clasped her hooves together and swayed back and forth.

Yeah, fine, that’s great, Rumble. Don’t dance around the subject none or give me time t’ prepare or anythin’, that’s just fine. Ah wasn’t ready fer that! Oh, goodness, ah’m blushin’ bad... Refreshed by the dispelling breeze wafted over by the wings of romance, Pipsqueak was pulled away from the light at the end of whatever dank tunnel he was scrounging around in for adequate hoofwear and given his second wind, coming to and leaping to his hooves. Assuming his mantle with gusto, he whispered a few orders to his deckhoof which Scootaloo confirmed his plan with a nod and a nearly compromising squeal of visceral delight, and after she had dutifully spread the plan to the rest, Pipsqueak set out to prove he was a captain, boots or not, and nopony was going to say otherwise.

“Ye may have landed a lucky blow to me pride, lad, but a captain is only as good as his crew is ready! Come on, everypony! Charge!” At the head of the pack and his sword drawn, Pipsqueak lead the battle, taking a few swipes near the hapless Braeburn’s legs while Spike and Sweetie Belle each grabbed a hind leg. Completing the attack, Ruby and Scootaloo joined Pipsqueak at the front and leapt upon him in unison, toppling their foe while they delivered light-hearted justice in the form of a multi-pronged tickle assault with a pony pile artillery barrage to effectively end the beast’s reign of tyranny. Any lingering remnants of romance were blasted back by the onslaught, and thus, Applebloom chose to wait until a more opportune time to reciprocate Rumble’s sentiments, resolving within herself to make the most of whatever the day threw her way which, with Braeburn present, could be just about anything.

“All right, y’all, ah think he’s had enough; let the poor guy breathe,” Applejack interceded with a satisfied chuckle, noting the stallion’s ragged gasping for air and the delightfully blue tint edging into his cheeks. “Ah think that’ll do as nicely as any welcome back t’ Sweet Apple Acres, huh cous?” Applejack listened for a minute while some noise that might have been imagined from speech escaped, losing coherency before it made it out of one dusty yellow muzzle. “Ah’ll take yer babblin’ t’ mean ya agree,” she chuckled, straightening up and beaming back at the cluster of friends doling out congratulations and high hoofs all around.

“Ahoy, deckhoof!” Pipsqueak called out, nodding with sage approval as the filly instantly presented herself before him with a snappy salute.

“Aye, Captain?”

“It’s important to recognize talent like yers, an’ that’s why from this moment on, you’re me deckhoof no longer!” Pipsqueak declared as officiously as a pirate could. “Fer yer invaluable ferocity in the heat of battle and snappy coordination in the field, I hereby promote you to ‘Queen o’ the Crow’s Nest.’ Congratulations, look out; you’ve earned it.” Unable to contain her excitement and slightly overwhelmed by her captain's praise, Scootaloo shot into the air pulling loops and corkscrews with fluidity and ease, letting her natural poise direct her wings. While Scootaloo danced below the clouds, Pipsqueak couldn’t help but appreciate his look out in a slightly different light, and while calming for the filly, one colt couldn’t help the heat rising in his chest. Or his cheeks.

“Ah, much better...” Scootaloo murmured with an airy sigh, lighting easily and folding her wings before noting the google eyed stare with which one colt sat fixated on his harpy. “What’s that look for?”

“You’re pretty...”

“C-cut it out! You’re acting creepy.”

“Creepy? Shoot, Scootaloo! You’ve got it all wrong!” Braeburn chortled, prancing over and looking first at Pipsqueak and then back at her. “Why, there ain’t no mistakin’ it; this colt is right smitten with you!”

“What? N-no, he’s just my captain!” Scootaloo denied, vigorously shaking her head.

“You’ve even given each other pet names?” Braeburn exclaimed, single-hoofedly stripping the awesomeness from the monicker with which she held her esteemed leader. “Ah’ve got to admit that there are a right number o’ cute little romances blossomin’ all ‘round Appleoosa, but you two are...”

“Not romancing anything!” Confident she wasn’t alone in her adamant denial, she turned to glean confirmation from Pipsqueak that they were most definitely dabbling in the mushy. Unfortunately, and perhaps more worrisome than the eyes of her friends eagerly awaiting comical rebuttal was the strikingly serious expression of deep contemplation worn by a colt who had yet to stop exploring the strange fire burning within his chest. “Pipsqueak, now would be a really great time for you to speak up...” Scootaloo urged, receiving nary the faintest sign of comprehension from the colt. What the hay is taking him so long? No, forget that, what is he even thinking about? There’s no way he’s actually... thinking about... romance? In his own roundabout way, he was, or at least trying to.

I don’t know what kind of devilish trickery she’s using, but this funny feeling in my chest really isn’t so bad. I kinda like it. I wonder... if just watching her makes me feel like this, I wonder what holding her hoof would do? I’ve kinda wanted to try that for a while...

“Pipsqueak? Come on, Pipsqueak! Tell him we’re... we’re not, you know...” Pipsqueak slowly raised his gaze, his eyes dilating a little as they refocused on the filly who was just moments from attempting to forcibly remove him from his daydream with a good swift shove. Yes! Finally, he’s snapping out of whatever adventure he was having in his mind. This is going to be sweet! Wait, why is he walking towards... me? As the thought completed, Pipsqueak admirably took a step towards the unknown horizon, slowly walking over to Scootaloo and placing his hoof to hers without any warning or time to prepare for the heart-melting articulation of a silver-tongued rogue.

“...you’re soft.” Scootaloo looked at her hoof. Scootaloo looked at Pipsqueak. Scootaloo looked back at her hoof, still eclipsed by his. Scootaloo looked back again at Pipsqueak, her eyes holding true to her recently acquired title of “look out” by growing to a rather fantastical size, though their scope only seemed to include the colt in front of her as a result of the “does not compute” messages cluttering her peripherals, spelled “whatthehaywhatthehaywhatthehay.”

“Yeehaw! Sound out the weddin’ bells, Applejack! We got ourselves a couple t’ marry!” Braeburn whooped, throwing his hat in the air and catching in expertly back atop his head as a little bit more of Scootaloo’s resistance shriveled and died. “What’re you doin’ waitin’ around here, then? I happen t’ know there’s a real seamstress here that could probably make you the prettiest little weddin’ dress this side o’ Equestria.”

No wedding, no dresses, no dating! I’m too young to tie that huge of a tangled, mushy knot! Dang it, I can’t think! I’ll get you for this, Pipsqueak! I just want to go home and hide... maybe dress up a little, and... that’s it! Pipsqueak knew that the twisted grin of his former deckhoof couldn’t just be hubris from her recent promotion, nor did it match the tone of the current happenings, and his own pride couldn’t ignore such a direct challenge to his, well, whatever it was, forcibly reverting the colt back to his usual self.

“...I don’t much like that sneer ye seem so fond of, look out.”

“Oh, you’re about to like it a whole lot less,” Scootaloo snickered mischievously, adopting a disturbingly sweet smile laced with concealed allure as she sauntered over and spoke gently, barely maintaining her act long enough to deliver her ultimatum. “I tagged you.”

“Tagged?” Ruby chimed in, shaking her head and missing Scootaloo’s implication entirely. “You shoved him from the top of the swingset, Scootaloo. I’d say that’s a fair bit more than tagging. I mean, just look at him!” Sweetie Belle and Spike both turned to find one colt’s confidence very much in the same condition as a chocolate bar left atop an active stove: melted and running.

“N-no, wait, there has t’ be some mistake! Slight o’ hoof, I say!” Pipsqueak shot back, taking a step away as Scootaloo’s grin grew wider. “The game was never officially declared over! There’s still time for me to win!”

“Uh, Pipsqueak?” Spike interjected, walking over and casting a wary eye on a filly who looked like Scootaloo but was giggling far too much to be who she appeared. “Why are you freaking out, and why is Scootaloo acting... like Pinkie Pie?” Pausing her victory dance, which consisted of wing assisted prancing around one unfortunate sailor condemned to walk the plank of embarrassment with nary a chance of salvation, Scootaloo failed to maintain her indignation long enough to cow Spike into silence before bursting into a fresh wave of victorious chortling.

“Why? I’ll tell everypony why!” Pipsqueak moaned, hiding his face in shame. “Me an’ the lass made a wager, an’ her underhooved methods an’ trickery...”

“Whoa, hold up!” Scootaloo shouted, leaping upright and beaming in her confidence. “I won our bet fair and square, and you know it! And now he’s just trying to get out of his end of the bargain!”

“Which would be?” Spike asked, glancing over at Pipsqueak who was currently seeing how many square inches of his face could effectively be shrouded by his bandana. Even with his face completely wrapped, it didn’t make Scootaloo’s declaration any easier to bear.

“Loser has to wear a dress in public!” While the fillies sided with the filly, Spike placed a sympathetic claw on the victim’s shoulder, shaking his head at the cruelty inherent in the female heart.

“Tough break, man. It could be worse, though.”

“Ye don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, mate...” Pipsqueak muttered, knowing full well it couldn’t.

“Well, what if they made you wear make up, too? Or perfume, or...” Spike continued, putting more and more ideas inside Scootaloo’s devious mind to call upon later when she won future bets, but such plans were cut short as Pipsqueak shocked them all.

“It ain’t about wearin’ a dress or lookin’ girly! Ah couldn’t care less what kind o’ fancy outfit they stick me in! I just can’t believe I allowed myself t’ be bested! I never lose!” With a dramatic wail, Pipsqueak fell onto his back, laying the bandana across his face and sticking all four limbs into the air. “It’s all over, mates. No captain could reclaim ‘is pride after bein’ bested so easily. Just bury this bootless has-been!” Sweetie Belle turned a curious eye towards Scootaloo, currently standing triumphant next to her conquered colt, wondering if Pipsqueak was always like this and grateful for her relatively normal relationship with a fire-burping, scale-having, spiny...

Ok, maybe “normal” isn’t the right word, but yeesh, what a drama queen!

“Pipsqueak?” Scootaloo received naught from the prone form of her yet again deceased captain for her inquiry, not even a twitch. Come on, Pipsqueak! You’re supposed to put up more of a fight than this! I mean, it’s no fun if you just let me win. I want a challenge! It would have led to another disgusted yet delightfully mushy moment if Scootaloo were informed that Pipsqueak was already so into her that he somehow knew by instinct her sentiments, and was already concocting a plan to rise from his deathbed, riding on the winds of competition.

“That’s it!” Pipsqueak cried, leaping upright and marching straight up to Scootaloo, plundering her overconfident smirk for himself. “Ye want t’ see yer captain in a dress, eh?”

“...I’m suddenly having second thoughts. What are you planning?” Yes! Pipsqueak is back in the game!

“What could a deposed, despairing captain possibly do t’ harm ye, lass? Nay, this rogue is nothing if not a scoundrel of his word. A dress I promised, and a dress ye shall have.” Without another word, he took off at a full gallop, leaving everypony to ponder what kind of ploy the crazy colt would conjure up next.

“...why’re you stickin’ yer fiancé in a weddin’ dress? Scootaloo, you’ve got it all backwards,” Braeburn corrected gently, shaking his head in remorse for the state of Equestria's next generation. “You’re the cute little lady that...” It was too much. Weddings, dresses, being called cute? What remained of Scootaloo’s once sizable ego just couldn’t take it, and Braeburn was soon left to ramble to empty space as Scootaloo made like her captain and bolted off into the trees.

“Ouch, tough break for Scootaloo,” Spike muttered, turning to find Sweetie Belle acting as if she were next in line for matrimony, her hooves clutched to her chest as envisioned walking down the aisle.

“Better start saving for a ring now, Spike,” Ruby chuckled, waving a hoof in front of the humming filly’s face, a pointless action that sparked not even the faintest hint of life from the starlet.

“What’s this? Another couple?” Braeburn chortled, turning towards Sweetie Belle and Spike.

Oh, forget this! I know where this is going. I’m out of here! Following in Scootaloo’s stead, Spike decided he wouldn’t much like to be in the stallion’s spotlight and took off running, jolting Sweetie Belle back to life as she gave chase. Only Ruby remained of the group, who looked around at the empty spaces and then back to Braeburn, wondering what harm he could possibly do, given she had no significant other and Rumble was stationed at Applebloom’s side.

“Don’t worry yerself, miss,” Braeburn offered, stooping down and giving Ruby an encouraging smile. “You’ll find somepony someday, too.” Rather than acknowledge the assertion and thereby guarantee further elaboration, Ruby slowly leaned to the side and gave Applebloom the most sympathetic look manageable while trying to constrain her giggles.

“Good luck, Applebloom. Later!”

“Luck? Ah’d say ah’m just about fresh outta that,” Applebloom moaned, dropping her gaze to the ground as Ruby trotted away at a leisurely pace with Braeburn waving enthusiastically. How can somepony be so nice an’ not realize that they just single-hoofedly drove everypony away? It’s like ‘is talent is makin’ everypony red in the face or somethin’...

“Hey, cheer up,” Rumble urged quietly, resisting the urge to place a hoof about her shoulders for fear of drawing further attention to themselves. “It can’t be too much worse from here on out, right?” Applebloom didn’t even have time to conjure a response before Granny Smith’s voice rang out, prompting a loud whoop from Braeburn and impressing upon Applebloom how things can always, always be worse.

“Lunch time, everypony! Come an’ git it!”

It all began with a knock. It was a plain sound, one that most ponies hear multiple times a day, and Storm thought nothing of it as he dutifully rose to answer the beckoning call, careful not to tread upon Hope as she viewed each of his hooves as a mini-circuit, racing in circles until finally collapsing in a dizzy, giggling heap near the entryway. Normalcy ended there as Storm swung open the door to find none other than the dreaded pirate himself, ready to call a temporary truce in a mutual beneficial parley.

“Pipsqueak?”

“Listen up, bucko,” the colt replied, disregarding the stallion’s lack of respect for a pony of his title and laying forth his proposition. “We’ve had our share o’ differences in the past, but I’m the fergivin’ type, so I’ve got a little offer that I think ye may like.”

Just remember, this is the colt that Scootaloo likes. Who knows, maybe he’ll actually be a lot of fun, as long he’s not getting frisky with my little sis. “Go ahead, I’m listening.”

“Nay, ye can’t hold a strategy meeting where pryin’ ears can hear! Just look at that lass what tried t’ steal me treasure not a week ago!” he exclaimed, pointing an accusing hoof at Hope who mindless pointed back, blissfully unaware of her alleged transgression. “She’s trouble, I can tell.”

“Right...” Storm said slowly, making a mental note to inquire at a later time as to how Scootaloo came to the conclusion that “spastic nutjob” was somehow affiliated with “cool.” “Well, come inside, I guess.”

“Thank ye kindly. Ahoy, landlubber, yer fresh outta luck. I didn’t bring any treasure today,” Pipsqueak jeered, giving Hope a smug grin before making himself at home on the couch, getting right down to business. “Word on the wind is ye go by the name o’ Storm. Well, fer reasons that don’t concern anypony save meself and that sneak who calls herself yer sister, I’m due t’ wear a dress by the end o’ the day.”

“A dress.”

“Aye.”

“Like the frilly kind?”

“No, the tasty kind ye put on salad,” Pipsqueak shot back, rolling his eyes. “Somethin’ wrong with yer head, mate? What kind o’ pony goes around covered in salad dressing?”

“Clearly, you haven’t had dinner at Applejack’s house...” Storm replied, laughing under his breath.

“We’re gettin’ off topic,” Pipsqueak chuckled, warming a little bit to the imposing stallion who still threatened to activate his fight or fight reflex at a moment’s notice. I guess he’s not so bad. He’s still scary big, but right now, I think I can handle it. Besides, I still have to come out on top! “Now, it’s come to me attention that the sweet little lass who put a cross-dressing hex over this here captain happens to be the little known owner of a number of dresses...”

Scootaloo hadn’t actually run all that far, only putting enough distance between herself and Braeburn that she could be confident further despicably mushy utterances made from his muzzle were sure to miss her ears, and she found it slightly satisfying to know she wasn’t the only pony who felt the way she had; Spike was booking it. Sweetie Belle followed shortly after in high spirits, if not a little distant on account of whimsical fantasies, and as Ruby showed up none the worse for the wear, the group moved back towards the park, determined to resurrect a morning gone crazy with... crazy. It was sound logic.

“So...” Sweetie Belle began, waving a hoof in front of Scootaloo’s eyes as her eloquent monosyllabic conversation opener failed to wrench the filly’s attention away from the anticipation dominating her other senses. “Aside from imagining Pipsqueak’s humiliation, or Scootaloo’s, for that matter, what should we do now? We’re near the park, but we’re missing a few ponies, and I think it’s safer for everypony if we stay away from tag for now. Any suggestions?”

“Hmmm... we don’t really have a good number for anything,” Ruby deduced, looking around. “We have two fillies, one distracted filly, and a dragon. Not enough for dodgeball.” Sweetie Belle was forced to concede on that point, and one by one they knocked out every other game they could think of.

“Ugh, Spike! You haven’t said anything this whole time! Come on, you have to have some idea for a game to play!” Sweetie Belle pressed, nudging the dragon who, if nothing else, roused her curiosity with a yelp and a poor excuse for a lie.

“Gah! Huh? Nope, nothing!” Three fillies, one me? What the hay do you expect me to think about, Sweetie Belle?

He’s... blushing? Now I just have to know! “You do have a game! Come on, tell me! Please~?” Under the scrutinizing gaze of three lovely fillies, one hopeless dragon was forced to show his hand: a royally screwed flush.

“Spin the bottle?” While Sweetie Belle had herself a little internal debate on whether to smack the dragon for suggesting a pastime that had a high chance of landing him lip-locked with somepony that wasn’t her or leap at the chance of getting a kiss herself, Ruby and Scootaloo held a brief whispered conversation before pounding hooves and turning back to Spike, currently waiting for the axe to fall.

“I’m down.” Sweetie Belle could only stare in disbelief as Scootaloo gave willing, no, eager consent to play, with Ruby agreeing wholeheartedly.

“Yeah, that sounds like a great idea, Spike!” Ruby quipped, sauntering over and wrapping her hooves around his arm. “In fact, why don’t we play at my house? I’m sure there are plenty of bottles we could use...”

“What? No way!” Scootaloo snapped back, grabbing Spike’s other arm, and shooting Ruby a competitive glance. “My house is way bigger, and my room is super comfy!” It was all a bit much for Spike who, as much as duty would bid him kindly decline the mounting attempts to make one another’s abode seem a more sensuous locale, found the strength to do little else but smile, sigh, and turn his blushing features towards the sky. Sweetie Belle was not amused.

“Both of you leave Spike alone! He’s mine!”

“Yours?” Ruby snorted, looking hurt. “Don’t be so selfish, Sweetie Belle! After all, there are plenty of colts in Ponyville, but there’s only one dragon.”

“S-selfish?” Sweetie Belle sputtered, growing more flustered as Scootaloo pressed the joke just a little too far, pressing the side of her face against Spike’s and pursing her lips in a kissing motion. In truth, Sweetie Belle really should have given her more credit for pulling off such a daring feat, as she was hard pressed to keep from blanching immediately afterwards from the sickening display of mushiness, feigned though it was, and all around romantic hooplah, but the only thing Sweetie Belle could think about pulling was her own hair, and maybe that of her friends. It was in her frustration that she realized she had a trump card that was not easily bested, and while slightly over-powered by nature and underhooved to flaunt, she made an exception as she turned her attention to an overwhelmed Spike and wrenched his mind back to where it should be.

“Spike, if you spend one more second letting my friends get all mushy on you, I swear to Celestia, I will tell Rarity!” Sweetie Belle’s countenance returned to its usual calm and cheerful manner as Spike all but threw the two fillies aside in his haste to preserve his life. Ah, nothing like the threat of impending doom to make a colt see reason, huh Spike? Adopting an air of benevolence as Spike prostrated himself before her, she held his gaze with a warming smile before cupping the dragon’s face with both hooves and dropping her voice to a quiet growl. “I’ll be worse than Rarity if I ever catch you kissing anypony but me, got it?”

“Y-yeah, I got it!” Content that her work was done and quite certain she’d hit her limit of mushy output for the day, Scootaloo turned to wander off for a breather and, if necessary, give her a head start should the singing spirit of vengeance come to deliver melodious reprimand. She made it three steps before stopping cold, wishing for all the world that she was on a stage somewhere making out with somepony after a night of licentious dancing. Well, not really, but it was the closest thing she could imagine with a comparable blush level to seeing Pipsqueak, not just sporting her favorite dress but playing the part far too well, swishing his tail with every sauntering step and an utterly unnerving leer focused entirely on her.

“No, it can’t be!” Scootaloo wailed, unconsciously taking a few steps back as she recoiled in horror at what she’d made. This can’t be happening! This absolutely cannot be happening right now! That’s not...

“Never before have I laid eyes on such beauty...” Spoken with flair, flamboyance, and startling femininity that threatened to rival her own, Pipsqueak’s opening left no room for doubt that he was indeed the lewd lady lacking in decency or restraint. Petrified at a touch and totally in character, Pipsqueak struck everypony speechless as he floated by, shooting Spike a wink before adopting a coy smile and threatening immediate upheaval of Scootaloo’s breakfast with his thoroughly effeminate tittering. “Behold, your fallen star has returned, milady.”

“No.” It was the only thing Scootaloo could manage, and small though it was, the word served as a mid morning snack as she was forced to eat it, even such a small utterance being turned upon her.

“Oh, don’t be bashful, now,” Pipsqueak cooed, running a hoof along the length of his body before holding it over his mouth and fluttering his eyelashes. “After all, I went to all this trouble to be... presentable for you.”

“I don’t want you to be presentable!”

“Oh?” Pipsqueak cooed, lifting the ruffled edge of his ravishing magenta gown ever so slightly. “So, you’d like me to be... less presentable?”

“No, make it stop! I’m sorry!” Scootaloo wailed, covering her eyes with both hooves and unable to escape the images seared into her mind. This has to be some kind of punishment for fighting my girly side! I’m sorry, I’ll be more girly, I swear it! Just make it stop! “Please, give me the old Pipsqueak back! I want my pirate!”

“You know, you two make a cute couple.”

“Ruby! Not helping!” Scootaloo barked, using her hooves as blinders so she could focus her frustration on the grinning filly who never seemed to be fazed by much of anything. “Don’t just stand there, Ruby! Do something! Anything!”

“Okay, if you insist,” Ruby replied with a shrug, trotting over and tapping Pipsqueak on the shoulder. “Wanna dance?”

“What?!? No!” Suffering from a heaping dose of embarrassment and an unquantifiable injection of pure frantic energy, Scootaloo suffered a temporary lapse in judgement and forcibly removed her favorite dress from the colt doing far too good of a job acting like a lady. Pipsqueak, no longer dressed, blinked a few times, glanced at himself, and then back at Scootaloo.

“...it’s a bit forward t’ tear off yer captain’s clothes, lass.” It was the final crushing blow, and Pipsqueak couldn’t care less about fact that he had just confirmed himself as verifiably insane in the minds of every pony present. No, as he turned and faced the laughter and the questioning looks directed at his mental stability, he held his ground and stood short with renewed self-confidence, throwing up a hoof and cheering but a single word to describe his elation.

“Win!”

Lunch. While it looked more like a dessert buffet than anything else, what with platters loaded with fritters and turnovers and pretty much all things apple related with an assortment of other fruit filled goodies, there were simpler things like salad, cheese, and crackers. For Rumble, whose meals generally consisted of whatever semi-palatable meal Thunderlane attempted to cook or raw foods, generally tastier, it was a fantastical spread that made him draw a frightfully delicious connection: if this is lunch, then what’s dinner? It was slightly dampening to his spirits that Applebloom didn’t seem to be sharing in his wonder, and given that the only cause for alarm was the unannounced arrival of additional family, he took a moment to ease her concerns with a few thoughts of his own.

“Hey, Applebloom?” Rumble began, speaking quietly while Applejack and Big Macintosh continued setting the table. “Is everything all right? You seem kind of...”

“Worried, nervous, just a hair shy o’ freakin’ out? Gee, what tipped ya off?” she snapped back, neither angry nor accusing, but simply far more in the know than Rumble, who continued in his cluelessly optimistic view of the dire situation. “Today was supposed t’ be nice an’ relaxin’, kind of. Ah’d just finally started to come t’ terms with dinner tonight, an’ then Braeburn had to go an’ show up!”

“What’s wrong with Braeburn?” Rumble pondered aloud, sitting up straight and glancing towards the livingroom where Braeburn was catching up with Granny Smith. “He seems nice enough to me. And hey! He’s well mannered! I thought that was something you liked?”

“What ah like is not havin’ mah ears burnin’ from dang near bein’ talked off about the more personal things that are best not discussed with a distant relative in the presence of all.” Rumble frowned at this, tilting his head to the side a little as he struggled to bridge the gap between the learned and unlearned.

“He hasn’t done anything like that, Applebloom.”

“No, he’s just knocked Pipsqueak clean off his hooves, declared a weddin’ that had Scootaloo blushin’ like she was dancin’ pervy on stage, an’ sent Sweetie Belle into a lovestruck daze by mere mention o’ marriage. Nothin’ embarrassin’ at all! What part o’ all this are ya missin’, Rumble? He’s trouble, plain an’ simple.” Applebloom, in her fervor, had leaned in quite close, but her seemingly unjustified suspicion of somepony who had yet to transgress Rumble’s standards for proper behavior garnered her not an ally, but a frown.

“I don’t think you’re being fair, Applebloom.” No anger, no condescension, just a simple statement was all it took to steal the wind from her sails, and the filly slowly sat back to give the colt’s words due thought.

He don’t know Braeburn like ah do, but maybe ah am jumpin’ t’ conclusions. Even Applejack can vouch fer the fact that he ain’t a bad sort, he just don’t have a whole lot o’ common sense. Maybe he’s changed? Stranger things have happened here on the farm, ah guess... “Ah’m sorry, Rumble.” While Applebloom wasn’t entirely convinced, the warmth of an approving smile gave her what fortitude was necessary to face the coming family time with all the courage she could muster. “It ain’t fair o’ me t’ assume the worst o’ somepony ah don’t even really know that well. Most o’ what ah know is from stories ah hear from Applejack, since he ain’t been back t’ Ponyville much since settin’ up in Appleoosa. Just promise me that no matter what he says, you ain’t gonna, um...” Stop likin’ me? Ah can’t say that, it’s too obvious! But how else do ah say it, then?

“Nuh uh!”

“You mean...”

“Uh huh!”

“You’re sure you won’t...”

“Uh huh!”

“Because...”

“Nuh uh!” Rumble declared, forestalling any further checking, cross-checking, double-checking and other such unnecessary fretting on Applebloom’s part by gleefully, but gently, slapping a hoof over her mouth. “No more worrying! I’ve been looking forward to tonight all week, and it’ll be a lot more fun if you’re laughing with me.”

“An’ besides,” Applejack chimed in, trotting over and cheerfully worked towards undoing the calm Rumble had wrought, “if ya keep brainin’ Rumble with a hammer, he’ll probably end up a lot like Braeburn: nice an’ clueless!”

“Ah’ll thank ya kindly never t’ say that again, Applejack,” Applebloom warned, slouching as she held her head in both hooves. “Alright, Rumble, that settles it; no more crashin’ ever, ok? Ah’d like mah coltfriend t’ smarter than the average doornail.”

“But you love nails, and...” Rumble began, stopping midsentence as his ears shot upright. “Wait, did you just...”

“Nuh uh!”

“Oooh, that was a horrible lie, Applebloom,” Applejack chuckled, cringing. “An’ besides, yer cheeks are speakin’ for ya. Ah’ll give you a few seconds t’ calm down before...”

“Hey there, cousin! Why didn’t you tell me lunch was ready? I ain’t seen a spread like this since, well, last time I was here!” Braeburn chortled, trotting past and stopping cold with a gasp as he spied yet another blooming couple with ever so faintly flushed cheeks. “Whoa nelly, another one? Applebloom, shame on you! You didn’t tell me that fine colt was more than just yer friend! How long ‘ave you two been seein’ each other, then? One month? Two?”

“W-we’re not... ah...” Applebloom stammered out before a different, much less desirable hoof shushed her.

“Don’t go tellin’ yer cousin any fibs, now! Why, those cheeks are lit up like a lamp post! Come on, how long you two been a couple?”

“Thirty seconds, sir,” Rumble replied in an even tone, himself still struggling to lasso his elation at being called her coltfriend, slip of the tongue though it was.

“Thirty seconds, an’ yer already over fer lunch? Shoot, y’all are gonna make Scootaloo jealous, gettin’ married before them!” It brought Applebloom a small measure of mirth contemplating not Scootaloo’s disappointment at losing the ring race that didn’t exist, but rather her imagined response to hearing such a declaration, an amusing mix of blatant desire peeking out from a loose veil of denial.

“Ah’m pretty sure Mr. Jelly will get married before Scootaloo, Braeburn. She’s the last pony t’ show an interest in romance. Hay, she’s only just recently discovered she’s a filly,” Applebloom teased, eliciting a smile even from Applejack as Braeburn took a seat at the table looking plumb baffled.

“Really? Well, that’s right strange...” he murmured, casting his gaze down at an empty plate. “I’d have thought a pretty little thing like her would wash herself more often.” The silence that followed his honest remark for which there was no response didn’t last more than a few moments as Granny Smith made her entrance, greeting everypony cheerfully and taking her seat at the front of the table.

“What’re you all just sittin’ around for, eh? This food ain’t gonna eat itself, not while my denchers are behavin’! Just look at poor Braeburn, starin’ at an empty plate... Not in my house!” Punctuating her words with action, the elderly mare reached out a rickety hoof and slowly drew a sandwich half onto her plate while the rest eagerly dug in. For a time, conversation was minimal as ponies attended to their food, but not even the sweet taste of fabled farm fare could keep Braeburn at bay for long.

“So, Applebloom, how old are you now?” the stallion asked, neatly wiping his muzzle with a napkin before resting his chin on folded hooves. “You’ve grown quite a bit since last I was here, though not quite like Applejack has, an’...”

“Ah’m pregnant.”

“And you should sound happier about it, Applejack! Frustration ain’t good fer any foal, cousin,” Braeburn chided, glancing down towards the mare’s stomach. “Now, don’t you worry, little one. She’ll warm t’ you eventually.” In Silver’s absence, it was Big Macintosh who acted in preservation of a life, the stallion placing a restraining hoof about his sister’s shoulders as the foal within her agreed to her current line of thinking towards what to do with Braeburn and gave her a good, solid buck.

“He better watch himself, brother. Ah ain’t feelin’ at mah most charitable, an’ comments like that are gonna land him in a heap o’ pig slop.”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac murmured, slowly shaking his head back and forth. He didn’t consider himself to be the most scholarly of ponies, but commenting on a pregnant mare’s weight was one of those unspoken rules that anypony knows not to cross, and Braeburn had pranced across that border with nary a care.

“Sorry for the interruption, Applebloom. Ah didn’t quite catch your answer.”

“Ah’m eleven now,” the filly replied, comfortable enough with question. “Gonna be twelve real soon. Mah birthday is right around the corner.”

“Eleven, huh? And you even got your Cutie Mark! Strange, though, I don’t see an apple...”

...ah take it back. His talent must be findin’ a pony’s sore spot and jabbin’ ‘em with a red hot poker. “It’s got an apple blossom, an’ that’s close enough.” Rumble lifted his muzzle from a rather delectable pastry at the sudden shift in tone, confused by the seemingly innocent question and making a mental note to ask his own at a later time.

“Darn tootin’, it’s close enough! A paint brush, a hammer, and...”

“Mallet,” Applebloom corrected in an officious huff. “Ah won’t stand fer anypony gettin’ the two mixed up. It’s a mallet, not a hammer, and no, they ain’t the same! A hammer is a mallet that had an identity crisis and tried t’ grow teeth outta the back of its head. Now a mallet? That’s a respectable tool, knows what it’s for and don’t leave room fer mistakes. You lay yer plans, you pound the nails, an’ do it right the first time.”

“Just shy o’ twelve and she’s already as sharp as a tack!” Braeburn exclaimed, beaming across at the his little cousin. “Clever mind, plenty o’ know how and the skills t’ back it? You’re growin’ into a right fine mare, Applebloom.” Applebloom was blown away. After all her worrying and pointing of the proverbial hoof at somepony she’d barely had any dealing with, his forthright outspokenness in praise had actually brought her a measure of pride for her talent, something that wasn’t often there despite her ever present excitement over all things fixable. For a small, seemingly insignificant allotment of time, Applebloom saw her day laid out before her like a map, with laughs and good will dotting every waypoint. “Speaking of bein’ a mare, I’m just curious; have you hit estrus yet?”

The aforementioned map, imagined though it was, erupted into a magnificent pillar of flame and left nought but a pile of ash for Applebloom to cling to as embarrassment was draped around her shoulders like a wet blanket made of itchy canvas, her head slowly sinking from view as she hid herself underneath the table. Normally one to respond calmly, there was a painfully solid sounding thwack as Big Macintosh applied his hoof to the center of his forehead, his sentiments very much shared by a livid Applejack who absolutely couldn’t believe that her cousin, intelligence level aside, would even think to ask such an invasive question. After a few false starts, Applejack managed to finally sputter out a sentence, imploring the timeless wisdom of her elder to bring an end to the madness and placate the tension in her hooves that threatened to extend Braeburn’s visit by a few days while he recovered in the hospital.

“G-Granny Smith, ain’t you gonna say somethin’?”

“O’ course! It would certainly explain how much time she spends in the barn, now don’t it?” Had Big Mac removed his hoof, it would surely have descended again and with much more force. “Best be careful, Rumble! Fillies are known t’ get a mite frisky ‘round that time.” Aghast, Applejack sat down hard, staring blankly at nothing in particular before a wavering voice dripping with desperation sounded muffled from underneath the table.

“Permission t’ run away screamin’, sis?”

“Only if I can join you, sugarcube.” Applejack had barely squeezed out the last sound before Applebloom tore out of the room wailing at the top of her lungs and terribly red in the face. Applejack followed shortly thereafter, leaving Braeburn and Granny Smith in confused silence and Big Macintosh practicing some deep breathing exercises. Rumble looked first to Granny Smith, currently mumbling to herself, then to Braeburn, his eyes cast upon the doorway, and then to Big Macintosh, who simply mouthed the word “run.” However, simply bailing simply wouldn’t do, not for one so well mannered, and thus Rumble cleared his throat and focused mainly on Big Macintosh for safety’s sake.

“Thank you for lunch, but may I be excused?”

“Eeyup.” Clearing his plate and ignoring whatever it was that Braeburn murmured, Rumble trotted towards the doorway before vibrations nearing him bid him turn, himself peering up to find Big Macintosh right behind him. “Yer gonna need more than just a few words t’ put poor Applebloom back together after that. Come on, ah’ll share a little secret with you that you may not know yet...”

“Storm Blitz, you have three seconds to improve my mood before I... I... do something horrible and... and bad, and... get your tail out here!” Scootaloo noted with some small amount of grim satisfaction the haste with which her brother must be moving, or attempting to move through a door, judging by the reverberations and telltale slam, and within a very short time one very confused older brother was standing trial before one very peeved sister holding out her incriminating evidence in a trembling hoof. It was frilly. She was livid. “This... is my favorite dress, Storm.”

“Uh...” Storm began, knowing that he was just a hair away from banishment or some other such consequence fitting for breaching a sister’s trust twice in a week. “Ok, first off, I had nothing to do with Pipsqueak getting his hooves on that dress. Second...”

“How did you know it was Pipsqueak then, huh?” Scootaloo shot back, slamming the dress down and contemplating how much trouble she’d be in if she were to give Storm a good solid whack to the tenders. I swear, if he tells me any lies, he’s so not gonna have fun with Dash for a week! No, a month! He’s really done it this time!

“Sis... you’re pissed.”

“No, really? What tipped you off?” Scootaloo replied, snorting and blowing a stray hair from her face. “I’m seriously gonna hurt you if you don’t have a darn good reason for giving Pipsqueak my dress. Start talking, or Rainbow Dash...”

“...is going to protect her stallion’s pride at all costs, yes,” Rainbow Dash chuckled, trotting over and standing between the two. “Rough day, huh, sport?”

“Rainbow Dash, Pipsqueak dressed up in my favorite dress and started flirting with me! It was horrible!”

“Oh, that had to be... awkward,” Dash replied, maintaining her calm and giving her attention to Scootaloo who was, fortunately for Storm, somewhat calmed by her idol’s intervention. “Ok, so aside from discovering your coltfriend has an effeminate side...”

“Not my coltfriend.”

“Future coltfriend.”

“Future maybe some year coltfriend.”

“Close enough,” Dash quipped, forestalling future arguments by drawing back to her original point. “So, why are you so mad at Storm? I’ve been here the whole day. He didn’t do anything.”

“But... then... how did Pipsqueak get this?” Scootaloo wondered aloud, staring at the dress in disbelief. “Somepony here had to give it to him. He already knows I’d kill him for stepping hoof in my room without permission, so how did he... wait a second... it’s a fake!” Scootaloo cried, tossing the article aside and racing up to her room to find her closet in pristine order and her dress right where it belonged. Dashing back downstairs, she ascertained again that, while similar, they were definitely different dresses.

“Pipsqueak did come by earlier, asking for one of your dresses,” Storm began, grateful that Scootaloo seemed to be listening. “He offered to promise me he wouldn’t kiss you for half a year in exchange for my assistance.”

“He what? But... no! That doesn’t make any sense!” Scootaloo ranted, beginning to pace as she worked it out in her head. “He must have been trying to dupe you! Yeah, the captain’s clever, right? He must have known you’d probably go for it, because there’s no way that Pipsqueak’s ever even thought of mushy stuff like that. I mean, come on! It’s Pipsqueak! Right? I’m right, right?”

“Denial.”

“Rainbow Dash! Ugh, why do I even bother...” Scootaloo sighed, sitting down and glaring at her former idol who was using Storm for support as she had herself a good bout of snickers.

“Sis, I turned him down. You’re free to kiss him.”

“Really?”

“I was afraid of that,” Storm continued, shaking his head and stabilizing his stance as Rainbow Dash lost it even more.

“No, wait, I didn’t mean it like that! I am not excited about kissing!” Scootaloo cried, darting over and shaking one of Dash’s legs. “Cut it out! Just because I might kind of like dresses doesn’t mean I’m going to get all mushy and romantic and... ugh, that’s just gross! I am not interested in tasting another pony’s slobber, okay?!?”

“It’s not so bad...”

“Storm! That’s disgusting!”

“Ok, ok, sheesh,” Storm relented, placing an affectionate hoof around Rainbow Dash as the giggles faded. “Anyways, bottom line, we’re innocent. He must have gotten the extra dress from Rarity. If nothing else, he seems to be resourceful.”

“Oh. Huh, I never thought of that,” Scootaloo admitted with a sheepish smile. It was exactly the type of thing she could see Pipsqueak doing, though how he obtained a dress so close to hers so easily was quite beyond her, but that didn't matter, really; the damage had been done. “I guess I owe you an apology. Sorry, Storm.” Geez, is there anything the captain can’t do? He’s got to have a secret weakness! Oh ho, I’ll find it, that’s for sure.

“Scootaloo, I’m actually glad you came back.” Laying aside the plotting of her captain’s thrice untimely demise, Scootaloo could hardly contain her excitement as Storm made her day. “I’ve been forgetting over and over again to say something about it, but next weekend I’m going to be taking part in the Wonderbolt’s Derby in Canterlot. Since me and Dash are both on the team, we may be able to snag some VIP tickets for you and some of your friends. You know, if you’re interested,” he concluded with a grin, wincing as Scootaloo shouted with glee.

“Are you kidding? I’m so there! I mean, sure, you’re not quite as cool as Rainbow Dash,” she teased while rushing over and giving him a tight embrace. “But it’ll still be great to see! Tricks, spins, dives, racing? Fireworks! Oh, this is gonna be great! I gotta go tell everypony! Oh, but first I should probably return this to Rarity... But then I’ll tell everypony! Bye!” Rainbow Dash couldn’t bring herself to disrupt the moment right away, instead giving Storm and affectionate nuzzle as he let slip a small sigh of relief that he and Scootaloo were still tight.

“So, when are you planning on telling her that you were the one who suggested he try Carousel Boutique?”

“Right, like I’m just going to come out with that?” Storm replied with a sly smile, chuckling as he shut the door. “I have to admit, hearing such a plot come from Pipsqueak puts my mind at ease. Scootaloo deserves to laugh, and I can’t imagine her having a dull moment hanging out with somepony like him.”

“Aren’t you the slightest bit worried?” Rainbow Dash pressed, curious about the change she was bearing witness to. “I mean, it was only a few days ago that you were up in arms about anypony being near your sister. What changed?” Storm took a seat on the couch and beckoned her over, sliding a hoof around her shoulders and drawing her close.

“It’s not that I’m not worried, Dash. She’ll always be my little sis, but someday, she’s going to be somepony else’s special somepony. I can fight it all I want, but with the emotion she’s putting out, it shows this is really important to her. How could I say I cared if all I did was stand between her and her ambitions? No,” he continued, shaking his head, “I won’t be that kind of pony.”

“Awww, look who’s gonna outgrow his dunce cap,” Dash murmured, nodding her approval even as she looked back at Storm with hopeful eyes. “We can still mess with her, right?”

“As much as possible.”

“Oh good, you’re still Storm.”

When fleeing for one’s life or the preservation of the sanctity of innocent ears, covering one’s tracks doesn’t even make the list of things to worry about. In her haste to escape the harbinger of social destitution, Applebloom had left a trail of frantic hoof prints in the rich Sweet Apple Acres soil, and Rumble, with his critically acclaimed cure-all for filly depression tucked under a wing, followed them out the door and to the barn. He was skeptical of how foal’s stationery supplies could properly bond anything other than paper, much less the shattered remnants of one’s dignity, but Big Macintosh had assured him that at the very least, Rumble would get a half-hearted smile. It was darker inside the barn, though not enough that his eyes needed to adjust. He cantered inside looking this way and that, finding nothing at first, but finally spying the edges of a red ribbon poking out of the farthest pile of hay from the entrance. After selfishly indulging a few moments to appreciate Applebloom’s unintentional adorable quirkiness even in the midst of harrowing shame, Rumble approached quietly, cleared his throat, and made first contact.

“Hey, Applebloom?” There was a brief rustle as the filly gave a start, having been deep in agonizing thought, but nothing more. “Are you... are you ok?” Whether she could see or not, Rumble couldn’t stop an affectionate though sympathetic grin from spreading as a muffled, undramatized groan sounded from within the hay. “It’s really not that bad, Applebloom. He didn’t mean anything by it, I don’t think.”

“...not that bad?” Applebloom repeated, her lamentation made through the hooves shielding her face within the protection of dried grass. “Ah just got asked an extremely personal an’ invasive question by a distant relative in front o’ most of mah immediate family an’ somepony ah really like. It don’t get much more horrible than that.”

“Can you come out? There’s something I’d like to give you...”

“Sorry, Rumble, my cheeks are still tryin’ t’ set fire t’ the hay right now.” One red ribbon was lost from view as Applebloom burrowed deeper into the dried out stalks, confident that nothing could possibly cheer her up. The only cause for hesitation on Rumble’s part was not fear that she was hiding inside the mound with a mallet clutched to her chest, but the slightly stunning, and completely unnoticed on her part, admittance of a truth they both shared but had never named. Applebloom’s ears perked despite herself as she tried to interpret what Rumble was doing that made so many hoof beats without moving, and as the colt finished his victory romp, he calmed himself and decided it was time to resurrect a wilted blossom.

Dang it, is he climbin’ up here? Ah ain’t ready t’ face ‘im right now... Applebloom tensed as the colt neared the top, not having any idea what to expect and suffering from heavily conflicted emotions, herself torn between yanking him into the hay to have some isolated cuddle therapy or push him down the mini mountain to quite clearly indicate her wishes to be left undisturbed.

“Applebloom? I, um... I really like you, too.” Unfurling a wing, Rumble reach back and grabbed his peace offering, placing it rightside up and gently pushing it into the hay with a hoof. At first, nothing happened, but Rumble’s patience was rewarded as a timid hoof grasped the article and pulled it the rest of the way down, a few moments of silence passing before being gleefully shattered by a squee and a fountain of shimmering pink goop. As a filly entirely unrelated to the moping mass of melancholy that formerly inhabited the hay pile burst forth in a dazzling spray of glistening glop of a most cheerful color, Rumble learned yet another fun fact about Applebloom: pink glitter glue seemed to be the key to unlocking the gates of madness.

“Rumble, you... you brought me glitter glue?!? You’re the best!” Applebloom cried, tossing the bottle into the air, tackling the colt down to the bottom and giving him a quick squeeze before deftly catching the bottle of glue as it fell. From his inverted position laying flat on his back, Rumble watched with fascination as Applebloom raced and leapt, coating the ground, the walls, somehow the ceiling and even herself with burst upon spray of her favorite substance in the whole of Equestria. Her sacred ritual of “Splatter Spaz” was melodiously interrupted by the sweet sound of laughter, giving the filly cause to pause as she berated herself for such improper conduct. Rumble deserved a reward.

What can ah possibly give the best colt t’ ever look mah way? He’s put up with me bein’ a right rain cloud and ain’t so much as yelled, or spoken harshly, or... or anythin’! He deserves somethin’ a little extra special. Temperance returned to find its usual place within Applebloom’s mind very much like it had been the scene of an old saloon bar fight, and stepping over the splinters of sanity’s table and nimbly dodging fragments of reason, Applebloom pranced over and slowed to a stop, a tiny globule dripping down the end of her nose and landing with a plop on Rumble’s cheek. Applebloom’s breath caught in her chest as she beheld the colt, framed by the shafts of light that made the rosen droplet glisten like the finest of diamonds, herself overwhelmed by the pinnacle of perfection laid out before her eyes. Temperance was blindsided by passion and laid out cold, her plans setting like the glue clinging to her coat.

A kiss? Shoot, that ain’t near special enough t’ show him how happy ah am! Luckily, ah got somethin’ even better! Expected or not, Rumble still squealed like a filly as he was mercilessly doused with gooey goodness, and running only fueled Applebloom’s fervor as the dashed hither and yon, young hearts aflutter on a romantic river cruise in a stream of glue. The bottle neared its end, and with temperance still poleaxed on the floor and passion carousing nearby, Applebloom tossed the bottle aside and leapt upon Rumble, the pair tumbling into a pile of hay where they collapsed breathless in a heap of laughter and heightened spirits.

Well, ah’ll be... Unknown to the pair, Applejack had witnessed most of the bizarre ritual from the doorway, though what came to her weren’t words of warning born of anxiety, but a grin of calm acceptance of what she was seeing as one gooey, silver hoof slowly reached out and took hold of her sister’s. You can be at ease, Rumble. You’ve passed the test as far as ah’m concerned. Applejack watched for a bit longer before interrupting the two, smiling as they both bashfully withdrew their hooves. “Feelin’ better, Bloom?”

“Uh huh!” Applebloom quipped, shooting Rumble a borderline amorous glance before turning back to Applejack. “Ah don’t really wanna go back inside, though.”

“Ah can’t say ah blame ya much,” she chuckled, sitting down before Applebloom and giving her yet again cause to smile. “You’ve both been as well behaved as anypony could hope for. Yer young, it’s the weekend, an’ while there are plenty o’ chores ah’m sure ah could rustle up, ah think you both deserve a little break from Braeburn. So, why don’t you both go out an’ enjoy yer day. Have fun with yer friends, raise a ruckus, whatever it is you feel like. Just be back by sundown fer supper, alright?”

“You’re the best, sis!” an ecstatic filly yelped, giving Applejack a hug before turning back to Rumble. “There’s a hose just ‘round the corner as ya leave the barn you can use t’ get cleaned up, Rumble. Ah’m gonna shower quick, then let’s get outta here! Ah dunno what we’re gonna do, though...”

“Hey, I know! Since you like tools so much, I could show you my parent’s workshop! They have tons of cool stuff I don’t even know the name of, and...”

“Enough talk. You had me at ‘tools!’” Applebloom laughed, covering his mouth before tearing out the door. It wasn’t long before they were clean and together once more, trotting towards town and away from the farm, hopeful that a little distance from trees, apples, and vest-wearing relatives would give them a fighting chance at having some good, clean fun.

(Don't) Blind the Messenger

Chapter 13: (Don’t) Blind the Messenger

Under a much different form of adrenaline than Applebloom had been some time earlier, one that wasn’t laced with the nauseating poison of overpowered liking somepony a lot, Scootaloo zigzagged over the trees in graceful loops and corkscrews, not anything that would impress the Wonderbolts but simply a showy byproduct of letting her elation run its natural course. It was this same happiness that fueled every flap of her diminutive wings, and with the chance at seeing the Wonderbolts perform again, she didn’t particularly care if anypony saw her aerial acrobatics. Even should Pipsqueak see, she was out of range to be hit by whatever dastardly charm attack he’d no doubt pull from his bandanna, and the thought of stunning him from a distance pushed her mirth further as she added even more finesse to her smooth motions until finally landing lightly at the farmhouse’s doorstep, folding her wings in a manner most ladylike, and then boisterously playing an enthusiastic bongo solo on Applebloom’s front door.

“Applebloom! Come on out! I’ve got some super awesome news!” Receiving no response within a generous allotment of half a second, Scootaloo gave an encore with her somewhat unrefined percussion skills that was rudely interrupted as the door swung open in answer to her call, but it was not a ribbon with which she was met, but a vest.

“Well, if it isn’t the blushin’ bride t’ be!” Braeburn exclaimed, beaming down at a filly who had gone from smiley to scowl in about as much time as she had allotted to having the door opened.

“I’m not getting married!” Scootaloo declared, packing the statement with as much blatant finality as could be mustered to stave off further advancement along such preposterous lines of thought. Was I clear enough? Not... getting... married! Not for a really long time, if ever.

“Of course you’re not!” Braeburn continued, nodding his comprehension and prompting a victorious though labored sigh of relief from Scootaloo. “Can’t get married without a pretty dress. That just wouldn’t be proper!”

“Don’t say dress...” Scootaloo said quickly, cringing as memories best left unconjured began to poke at her defensive perimeter. “Look, can you please just tell me where Applebloom is? I need...”

“Help pickin’ out a weddin’ dress, I understand,” Braeburn interjected with aggravating understanding layered within a sandwich of cluelessness. “Unfortunately, I don’t know where little Applebloom ran off to. She was just here, and we were talkin’, and then she and Applejack just took off. Honestly...” Braeburn muttered with a sigh, shaking his head and giving the filly an imploring look. “It’s one thing t’ see others being rude, but when your own family dashes off with no warnin’? It just ain’t right. If you find either of ‘em, tell them I say t’ be on their best behavior for dinner, would you kindly? Granny Smith told me tonight is going to be extra special, and I just can’t bear the thought of Applejack ruinin’ Applebloom’s special night.”

Entirely convinced that Braeburn wore his stetson as a means of hiding the fact that there was indeed no head, and by proxy no brain with which to view life in a manner close to rational, Scootaloo silently gave Applebloom her condolences and Braeburn some “proper” salutations before trotting towards the barn. If her little foray into inanimate infidelity earlier that morning had been any indicator, it was the most likely place she’d be. In transit, Scootaloo had a deliciously mischievous idea that, should she do anything more with it other than simply fall to the ground laughing at the mere thought, would have raised enough chaos to waken Discord were he not already awake and quite merrily enjoying a timeshare between a cozy chaos zone of his own design in the Foal Mountains east of Canterlot and the royal city itself. Logging it away and confident she wouldn’t find cause to use such an underhoofed and borderline traitorous plot, she regained her composure and swung open the barn doors to find Applebloom that Applebloom’s stress levels were far higher than Scootaloo would have guessed.

“Woah... I think she used an entire bottle,” the filly remarked to herself, gingerly stepping around the splatters. “Applebloom, are you in here?” Receiving no response save the echo of her own voice, Scootaloo hovered low and searched around, but the barn was quite devoid of ponies. "Must be having a rough time of it. I wonder where she’s... oh, duh,” Scootaloo chuckled, spying a few gray feathers stuck in the glue that pointed the way to her next destination. “Guess it’s time to pay Rumble’s house a visit. Poor Rumble... Applebloom has to be pretty down if she’s willing to waste a whole bottle of ‘pink gold.’”

Contrary to Scootaloo’s assumptions, Applebloom was in stellar condition, all things considered. Walking into Rumble’s house and not being instantly set upon by two high maintenance mares with an increasing affection for their new “little sis” was an odd, though refreshing, experience for her as she trotted in after Rumble. After a bit of small talk with Thunderlane and his reassurance that, as far as it concerns him, the ladies would be on their best behavior for the evening, Applebloom followed Rumble into the hallway where he swung open a door leading to a dark staircase. While most basements are full of clutter, dust, and keepsakes that serve little purpose, even Pinkie Pie would have been impressed by the filly’s grin that stretched ear to ear as Rumble flipped on the lights and introduced her to a wonderland of tools.

“Gosh, just look at the size o’ this hammer! Ah bet even Big Macintosh would ‘ave trouble liftin’ that thing, let alone swingin’ it! Oh, now what’s this here? Ah ain’t even seen a tool like this. Ah wonder what it does? Well, come on, then! Fess up, what’s yer name? Wait, hold that thought! Whoa, nelly!” While some colts may have found it minorly distressing to see their primary romantic interest merrily trot the fringe of mental instability at the sight of a veritable treasure trove of tools and miscellaneous pony technology, Rumble found Applebloom’s tendency to spaz over the mundane as charming as it was amusing, so he simply watched from the entryway. After making a full sweep of the room, Applebloom continued to interrogate this, that, and the other gizmo, until she swung around with a rather large wrench clenched happily in her jaws and found Rumble staring straight at her.

Dang it, ah knew somethin’ was off! Ah’m doin’ it again! Turning around and dropping the wrench with a loud clatter, she hopped from the workbench and studiously studied the floor, searching the cracks in the concrete for an out. Finding none, she chanced a glance at the colt, only to find herself transfixed by the gentle arrows of adoration. He’s smilin’, but he ain’t laughin’. Anypony, even mah friends, would be laughin’ at me fer actin’ so strange. Thanks, Rumble. “So,” she began, clearing her throat and motioning to all the wonders around her with the sweep of her hoof. “What is all this stuff?”

“Huh?” Rumble murmured, blinking once as daydream shifted to reality.

“Well, there’s got t’ be a reason you got so many tools,” Applebloom reasoned. “Ah mean, ah don’t even know what half o’ these things are, an’ that’s t’ say nothin’ of all the other gears an’ such layin’ about. Where’d it all come from?”

“It’s my parents’ stuff,” Rumble began, trotting over and eyeing the room with moderate disinterest. “They can fix just about anything, really. Thunderlane isn’t shabby either, but it’s more of a hobby, something to do with his spare time rather than a passion like it is for my parents.”

“Free time? He has that?” Applebloom chuckled, picking up on a strange vibe coming from Rumble but unable to put a hoof down on what.

“Nuh uh!” Rumble laughed, hopping onto a bench and kicking his legs over the side. “He hasn’t really tinkered around down here since things stabilized with him and the girls. This used to be where he’d come to blow off steam.”

“What about you?” Applebloom inquired, a growing excitement welling within the filly as an idea began to take form. “Since yer parents are so talented, ah bet yer great at makin’ stuff! Ah mean, there’s no tellin’ what kind of amazin’ stuff you could build with all this!” It wasn’t just the cessation of his kicking legs that tipped Applebloom off that she’d just struck a nerve, but the suffocating silence that followed her all-too-excited proclamation.

“Not a failure like me...” Rumble said quietly, staring sullenly at the ground. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve tried my hoof at making even the simplest of things, but it never turns out the way I want it to. My parents travel around, helping ponies and fixing everything with a smile, and all I’ve ever done is break things!” Applebloom wished she could speak in his defense, but if his “repairs” to the roof of her clubhouse was any indication, she could only imagine if he opted for a bigger project. Even more than simply cheering him up, Applebloom was forced to realize three things: Rumble wasn’t the spitting image of perfect she’d crafted him to be in her mind, he was indeed breakable, and she really didn’t like hearing him yell. Raised volume was something she’d dealt with plenty on the farm, between Applejack’s shouting and Granny Smith’s inability to regulate herself, but for some reason, seeing Rumble upset was far worse.

“All my life, it’s been other ponies picking up after messes I never wanted to make! I’ll never be something my parents can be proud of, no matter how hard I try... I hate it!” Applebloom couldn’t help but flinch as Rumble slammed his hoof down on the bench, the sound reverberating and echoing throughout the basement. Applebloom scrambled to find something, anything she could say to prove it wasn’t so, but how could she? She’d only met the colt a week back, and in that short time he’d busted a roof and fallen from a barn, and she was as new to him as she was to romantic relationships.

Ah’ll take a mallet t’ my own head if ah just sit here doin’ nothin’! Come on, think! Painfully slow seconds ticked past, but as Applebloom lifted her gaze to a colt already regretting the vehemency with which he spoke, she approached without a plan, sat down beside the colt, and acted without the faintest notion what she would do. “Ah ain’t gonna say you don’t break things, ‘cause you do.” ...great, that’s a wonderful way t’ make ‘im feel better, Applebloom. Oh, ah hope ah didn’t just ruin everythin’... Rumble had been expecting empty praise or well-meaning comfort, not being slapped with brutal agreement, but at the same time, he found it to be an almost cathartic change of pace. While he gave no outward sign, Applebloom’s first attempt had at least halted the progression of his frustration, and he sat ready with open ears to hear what she had to say.

“Ah don’t know what it’s like t’ always be breakin’ everythin’, Rumble. Ah can only imagine how much it must bother you...”

“Uh huh...”

“Can ah tell you a secret?” Confusion, Rumble noted, was also a good deterrent from self-loathing and other such forms of unnecessary misery, and he sat quiet a few moments before nodding once and answering in turn.

“Uh huh.”

“It’s not somethin’ ah talk about, but...” Applebloom began, pausing with a sigh before committing to whatever path her heart was leading her down while her mind continued to play dumb. “Sometimes, ah feel really outta place in mah family. Don’t get me wrong, ah love ‘em all, even Braeburn, but ah’m the only one ah can think of whose talent doesn’t have anythin’ t’ do with apples. Ah can’t even cook, hardly! Generations an’ generations o’ farm ponies, an’ what do ah have on mah flank? Mallet an’ a paintbrush.”

“But... isn’t that an apple blossom with them?” Rumble inquired, glancing at her cutie mark as discretely as an interested colt could.

“It is,” she admitted with a faint grin, scooting closer and holding her hooves in her lap. “Rumble, all ah’m tryin’ t’ say is that bein’ different from what you want t’ be don’t make you a failure. You’ll find somethin’ t’ be passionate about, an’ if yer parents ‘ave a lick o’ sense, then they’ll be just as happy fer you as you are t’ know where you belong.” And then, as quickly as her encouragement seemed to be coming, it stopped, and Applebloom fell silent, wishing she had more to say but unable to find the words.

Thunderlane had probably told Rumble the same thing a hundred times, but somehow, hearing it from Applebloom seemed to finally make the connection. It didn’t remove the guilt from having an endless string of blunders form the timeline of his existence, but maybe if he could find his talent and use it to its fullest, he could make up for his accident prone nature. Applebloom couldn’t have begun to fathom just how much Rumble held against himself, or how his misperceptions had driven him to exhaustion more than just a time or two, but as Applebloom’s words breathed life into the heart of a colt who wanted nothing more than to help, and was yet was seemingly cursed to wreak destruction, Rumble found a measure of solace in her honesty and a gentle hoof upon his own.

“You really are good at fixing things,” Rumble said softly, a smile spreading ever wider as a restored perspective and good ol’ farm pony logic brought brought with it a sense of freedom so sweet, not even the most scrumptious of cupcakes could compare.

“Uh huh!” Applebloom quipped, elated and slightly perplexed that her entirely off the cuff oration had actually served a purpose. “Rumble, ah...” Ah, uh... gee, yer mouth is right close t’ mine. Unaware that Applebloom was in the midst of tempting tantalizing thoughts of taboo and romance, Rumble was having quite a difficult time staying grounded, and in a fit of spontaneity and excitement, he swept her from the bench and held her tight, spreading his wings and flying a short distance, spinning once before crashing into a nearby table, collapsing on top of the bashful filly and laughing like crazy.

“W-what... what’s that look for?” Rumble chortled, beaming ear to ear and standing over the Applebloom with his wings spread wide. “You just made me really happy, and I couldn’t control it. Are you hurt?” Were her thoughts not currently in forbidden territory, the unfurled wings would have simply been an observation rather than a misconstrued point of interest.

Ah didn’t mean t’ get ‘im so riled up, honest, sis! How as ah supposed t’ know sweet talkin’ worked both ways? Mah poor cheeks are probably redder than a robin...

“Hey, are you ok?” Rumble pressed, still smiling as he leaned a little closer.

Just a little stretch, an’ ah could... could kiss ‘im... oh, Celestia, there ain’t no way Applejack would approve! Hay, ah’m not even sure ah approve! Whatever happened t’ takin’ it slow, huh? He should at least take me on mah first date before ah... my, he’s dreamy. Dang it! Rumble, stop yankin’ mah heart cables! “Yer... yer, uh...”

“Uh huh?”

Pretty dang oblivious! Oh, come on, somethin’s got t’ give, or ah’m liable t’ be the one gettin’ frisky. Can’t somepony help? Her plea never was verbalized, so it wouldn't be right to say she was forced to eat her words, though they did make quite the odd flavored hard candy as her unspoken wishes were unexpectedly granted in the timely arrival of an ecstatic friend.

“Applebloom, Rumble, I...” Scootaloo started, racing down the steps and stopping cold as she took in the scene. Applebloom lay on the ground, her hooves timidly pulled to her chest and her cheeks a brilliant crimson hue, with Rumble’s muzzle dangerously close as the colt stood over her with wings fully spread. If Scootaloo’s subsequent outburst hadn’t tipped Rumble off that he had just scored an “F” for appearances, the sputtering and fake dry heaves would have. “Ugh, that’s disgusting, you two! I can’t... you... It’s not a race, you guys!”

“No, wait, it ain’t like that, Scootaloo!” Applebloom protested, scrambling to her hooves as Rumble yanked away and flushed deeply, unable to make eye contact. “Ah just made him really happy, an’...”

“I can quite clearly see that!” Scootaloo interjected, pulling a face and shuddering. “I think I’m gonna be sick... That’s it, it’s time for an intervention!”

“Uh uh!” Rumble pleaded, not wanting to cause any trouble for Applebloom. “I wasn’t even thinking about anything dirty!”

“You’re right, there’s totally nothing pervy about being a hoof length away from my friend’s face with your wings... no, you know what? Intervention! I’m telling Applejack!” Applebloom didn’t pause to see if Scootaloo was planning on making good on her threat or not; if Applejack caught wind of even a rumor of Rumble getting “excited” in that way, especially with just the two of them alone in an isolated place like a basement, there’d be far too much explaining to do. With one deft movement, Applebloom snatched, aimed, and threw the wrench she’d been toting earlier with pinpoint accuracy.

“Uh... don’t you think that was a bit much?” Rumble asked as Applebloom trotted over to a nicely dazed Scootaloo with a smug grin pasted on her muzzle.

“The polite thing t’ do when a filly saves yer life is t’ say ‘thank you,’ Rumble,” she quipped, tossing the wrench away and helping Scootaloo into a sitting position amidst much groaning. “Now then, fer the last time, Gabby, me an’ Rumble weren’t doin’ anythin’ questionable, so there ain’t nothin’ t’ tell mah sis, got it?”

"Gabby? Don't tempt me. I was thinking 'Farm Filly Caught in Love Triangle Scandal: Colt Spurned by Craft Cuddling' would make a great headline on my way over to the barn, but now, I don't even want to think about what it would be..." Scootaloo paused, gleaning a small amount of comfort from Applebloom's sudden influx of embarrassment. “You didn’t need to brain me,” Scootaloo muttered sullenly, rubbing her forehead and eyeing Rumble with lingering suspicion. At least, until she realized that he was doing the same thing, a hoof placed tenderly over the remains of the lump he’d received the first time he startled Applebloom. “Huh, at least I know you’ll keep him in line.”

“O’ course ah will,” Applebloom agreed, casting a fond eye at her still blushing colt of interest. “Ah ain’t no floozy. Now, what’re you doin’ here, anyhow?”

“Storm’s getting me VIP tickets to the Wonderbolts Derby in Canterlot, and said I could invite as many friends as I wanted. You two in?”

“As if there’s even a doubt? Ah’d love to go t’ Canterlot! The castle is an amazin’ work of architecture, an’ ah think there’s a great big tool shop somewhere in the shoppin’ district... oh, say you’ll come too, Rumble. Please?”

“Sure!” Rumble readily agreed, grateful for a change in subject. "That sounds like loads of fun! Are we just going for the race, or are we staying around for a little while afterwards?”

“I’m sure if I talk to Storm, he’ll let us stick around for the day,” Scootaloo replied, her excitement returning as her temporary headache receded. “Ok, time to tell the others. Oh, and Applebloom?”

“Yeah?”

“Save the kissing for Canterlot. It’s a better scene than this musty place.” Fleeing at the risk of being poleaxed by another flying wrench or other nearby tool, Scootaloo left in a hurry and a flurry of laughter and feathers, racing from the basement while Applebloom was forced to ponder the possibility.

Actually, she’s right. Canterlot is such a beautiful town, ah bet there are all kinds o’ pretty places that would make a good scene. Goodness, ah better be on mah best behavior, or ah’m liable t’ prove Scootaloo right. “C-come on, Rumble,” she began, desperate for a change of scenery to spark fresh, and platonic, thoughts into her mind. “Let’s head back upstairs an’ find somethin’ else t’ do. All these tools are makin’ me fr... uh, distracted. Right, distracted.”

“Uh huh.”

“You’re not helpin’ much, ya know that.”

“Uh huh!”

“You’re handsome.”

“Uh... wait, what?” Rumble asked, stopping at the top of the stairs as Applebloom sauntered a short distance away before turning around and shooting the stunned colt a playful grin.

“Nothin’.”

“But... you said something!”

“Uh huh.”

“So tell me what it was!”

“Nuh uh!” Thunderlane glanced up as the duo raced circles around his spot at the table, arguing back and forth about nothing at all and loving every minute of it. Unable to turn down a filly’s distress call, Thunderlane heeded a chuckling filly’s cries for help, with Applebloom watching from the tabletop as a simple chase quickly turned into brother versus brother wrestling, with Applebloom gleefully shouting out encouragement until her mind worked out an anomaly set aside on the backburner.

Wait just an apple-pickin’ minute. “Save the kissin’ fer Canterlot?” Why the hay is Scootaloo even thinkin’ about that? Could it be that she’s finally startin’ t’ warm t’ the idea o’ romance? If she is, then it could only be Pipsqueak. It wasn’t just the idea of Scootaloo being romantic, but even more the fact of her acceptance that struck Applebloom as such a hilarious impossibility, and while she wasn’t the nosiest pony around, she could very solidly justify an afternoon spent snooping after the filly as “revenge” for her interruption of her time in the basement. “Thunderlane, let yer brother breathe. We’ve got some sleuthin’ t’ do!”

“Well,” Ruby began, rising to her hooves, “seeing how most everypony has left for one reason or another, I think I’m going to go try to track down Silver Spoon. Maybe we can raise some mischief and get her to open up a little more. You know, dastardly things like cleaning somepony’s house or cooking them a meal. Horrible, uncouth things like that.” She shared a good chuckle with Spike and Sweetie Belle, the only ones still present as they too stood, casting one more glance around the park before accompanying the filly on her way towards town.

“How’s that going, by the way?” Sweetie Belle asked, recalling the condition in which they had found the haughty earth pony. “She still seems pretty quiet in class, but you two seem to be getting along.”

“You can come and talk to us during recess, you know,” Ruby offered with a rueful grin. “Anyways, it’s slow going, and I swear, I have yet to meet somepony more confusing, but she’s beginning to warm to the idea that fun can be had without tearing somepony else down. I even got her to help me pull weeds a few days ago!”

“Whoa, really?” Sweetie Belle exclaimed in utter disbelief. “That’s... I can’t even... how much did you pay her?”

“Not a single bit,” Ruby replied, triumphantly allowing herself just a moment of pride. “I’m telling you, she’s a completely different pony once you pry her away from Diamond Tiara who, I might add, is still more rotten than sour milk a month past its prime.” There was a notable lack of enthusiasm in her last statement, leaving both Spike and Sweetie Belle quite positive she was speaking from a recent experience. “Yes, I ran into her. No, I controlled myself and didn’t smack her. Yes, she was a giant pain in the flanks. No, I don’t think I’ll try talking to her again for a while. Yes, I may have thrown a rotten tomato covered in... something at her when I was taking out trash from Uncle Shiny’s tavern. Oh, and yes, Silver Spoon was present, and I swear I heard a giggle.”

“Sounds like time well spent to me,” Spike surmised, snickering as they came to a stop. “Thanks for coming by this morning. It was fun hanging out as a group again, even if it didn’t last very long because somepony had to start a little drama.”

“Hoofshakes don’t count as holding hooves, ok? Sheesh!” Ruby groaned, rolling her eyes and trotting away. “I’ll see you two later! Don’t kiss too much, now!”

“She’s just gotta tempt me like that,” Sweetie Belle muttered, pouting a little as she contemplated what they could do to fill the afternoon. I wish I could treat him to a nice meal or something to make up for that horrible dinner I made, but I don’t really have a lot of money and the tavern isn’t even open. I’m sure Applejack has some treats, but she probably has her hooves full trying to get ready for tonight. Hmmm... Inspiration, Sweetie Belle again discovered, was much like song lyrics in that they cannot be forced, and thus take time. Ditching her grandiose notions of making things up to Spike then and there, she settled for a rare foray into practicality, turning to Spike with a shrug. “Spike, how would you feel about lunch at my house?”

“Nauseous,” Spike stated flatly, holding his serious expression to meet the filly’s pained indignation for only a few moments before giving her a loose hug and a reassuring chuckle. “That sounds good, Sweetie Belle. Er... you can make a sandwich, right?”

“...anything that doesn’t involve a stove is fine,” she admitted, shoving him playfully while doing her best to view the situation in a comedic light. It really wasn’t her greatest moment ever, but even amidst the less than tantalizing aroma of bile, Spike had still managed to pull off an adorable sweetness when he had asked her out that she couldn’t fully comprehend. A little idle chatter, a short walk, and they soon found themselves feasting on sandwiches in the comfort of Sweetie Belle’s room. Spike paused with his hoagie heaped high with an assortment of spring vegetables halfway to his mouth and gave Sweetie Belle a look as she spontaneously erupted into giggles.

“What’s so funny, Sweetie Belle? Do I have something on my face?” Spike inquired, gingerly pawing at the area around his muzzle for any spare leftovers.

“I was just thinking about the first time I asked you to hang out up here,” Sweetie Belle replied, to which Spike averted his head and muttered something she couldn’t quite catch. “Oh, come on, it was cute how nervous you were!” Sweetie Belle pressed, scooting closer. “I was like, ‘Come sit with me,’ and you were like, ‘W-with you? Like, on the b-bed?’” Such teasing had been commonplace before things had taken a turn for the romantic between the two of them, and it startled Spike how much of a breath of fresh air it was.

Whoa, haven’t had a good back and forth for a while. Feels like forever... Sure, me being tongue tied, like, all the time sure hasn’t helped, but still! Finishing what remained of his meal in a single bit, Spike shuffled around on the carpet and gave Sweetie Belle a sly grin as he adopted a haughty air of superiority that was about as transparent as well shined glass. “Yeah, I remember. I sure was glad I wasn’t the one with a white coat, though. Your cheeks were like ripened roma tomatoes after I brushed your hoof climbing up!”

“At least I still had the ability to move!” Sweetie Belle laughed, shoving the dragon playfully. “You were so stiff, you fell over when I poked you! Pipsqueak would have flipped if he were here, though it’s probably for the best that he wasn’t; he probably wouldn’t have treated a zombie dragon quite so nicely as he does Scootaloo.”

“Hey, I was responsive! Kind of...” Spike shot back, adopting a rueful smile and cringing at having lobbed Sweetie Belle such an easy opportunity. There was a soft thud as the filly suddenly sat straight up, her eyes bulging and unblinking as she slowly fell to the side. “Ok, ok, I was really messed up, ok? Being invited to a hot girl’s bed kind of does things to a guys brain, you know...” Perhaps divulging too much information in a less than articulate fashion, Spike covered his mouth as Sweetie Belle shrugged her feigned zombification and sat upright once more, unsure of whether to be flattered, miffed, or just plain mushy.

“...’hot girl,’ huh?” Sweetie Belle sneered, a wicked grin spreading across her muzzle as she moved closer. “Well then, how would such a guy respond if such a filly should do... this!” Springing suddenly, Sweetie Belle leapt upon Spike, pinning his claws spread wide and standing over him with a sensuous, teasing leer. How the perils of attraction do seem so magical to those wrapped in love’s spell! Alas, her ruse had its desired effect in that Spike was summarily robbed of breath, but as a familiar flush rose to lavender cheeks, so too did one filly’s chest burn as her own heart skipped hoof in claw with his.

Ok, keep it together, Sweetie Belle. This is a joke. A gag. Nothing romantic about... about being this close to his mouth... or pinning him to the ground. Just... normal stuff?

Ugh, again? Why do things always go this direction with us? Just when I thought we were going to have some real fun, too... The flush began to fade as Spike’s cheeks as hidden frustrations took their place, and Sweetie Belle was shocked not just clear speech, but playful prodding as Spike sought to shift things back towards normalcy. “Are you really sure you wanna take up wrestling? Rarity wouldn’t approve of something so ‘uncouth.’”

There were a number of traits Sweetie Belle had learned from her dear sister, and stubbornness seemed to be the strongest. Determined not to be outdone, and quite worried that she was losing her ability to strike her coltfriend dumb, Sweetie Belle pressed things further as she closed her eyes halfway, leaned in closed, and flexed what little magical knowledge she had to lift a piece of paper nearby, causing a faint lavender glow to shine from her horn. Spike lived with a married unicorn couple, and he knew exactly what the pale aura meant; it meant that his freedom of lucidity had been revoked, and he swallowed hard as he admitted defeat.

“Y-you win, S-Sweetie Belle.” Nopony moved. In fact, Sweetie Belle had succeeded in not only winning their little sparring match of sorts, but had landed herself in such a position where much of her willpower was being spent on boring things like breathing and keeping her hooves locked so she didn’t fall face first onto... face. Is she... really considering it? Again... Spike would find the next day that his subsequent laughter had not gone unnoticed, but he simply couldn’t withhold the joyous cachinnation of ironic release to accompany Sweetie Belle’s sonnet of sorrow with yet another timely interruption.

“Sweetie Belle, guess...” Scootaloo shouted, throwing open the door and again finding herself on the receiving end of the cruelest of punishments. “Augh, my eyes! Sweetie Belle, what’re you... with your horn glowing and everything? I... what is wrong with everypony today?!?” The kiss never happened, much to Spike's relief. In fact, within a few seconds time, the room once occupied by two flustered ponies was left desolate, one pegasus fleeing for her life from one ballistic unicorn, all while one dragon failed hard at placating the wrath of a scorned starlet. Were Sweetie Belle a tad more learned in the mystic arts, Scootaloo would surely have been grounded in a most abrupt and painful manner, but alas, the young unicorn was merely able to send out a few glittering sparks of deadly frustration and watch her invasive friend fly away, heading for no destination in particular, just one that didn’t involve life-threatening filly rage.

Like aromatic cayenne pepper being gently lathered into a gaping wound, cordial laughter rang out like a serenade at a funeral, and Sweetie Belle whirled to find Applebloom and Rumble slowly making their way over, hardly able to stand and leaning on each other for support as their raucous laughter mingled with that of her dragon. Remiss and filled to the brim with not-so-amiable indignation at not only being deprived for the umpteenth time, but also mocked as well, Sweetie Belle stomped her way over and thrust her face close to Applebloom’s, growling softly and alerting the pair that they may wish to regulate their breathing a teeny bit better if they wished to continued to breathe at all.

“Oh... come on, now... don’t get... so huffy!” Applebloom wheezed, her chest heaving as she wiped blissful tears of merriment from their place huddled in the corners of her eyes. “Ah can only laugh... ‘cause the same thing happened t’ me... just a little while ago!”

“Wait... wait just a minute, here!” Sweetie Belle exclaimed, horrified and quite possibly even further vexed than she was before. “Scootaloo is going around ruining everypony’s special moments?!?”

“We were having a moment?” Spike murmured, wisely choosing to speak softly so as to not direct the beast’s wrath upon himself.

“In her defense, ah think it feels a bit more like ‘repeatedly gettin’ her snout shoved into romantic mush,’” Applebloom answered, placing a slightly trembling hoof on the filly’s shoulder. “Ah ain’t laughin’ at yer ruined moment, Sweetie Belle. Honest, ah’m not! It was Scootaloo’s reaction to it that made trailing her worthwhile.” Applebloom proceeded to explain why it was that Scootaloo was callously traversing the town in search of tenderness to destroy, which Sweetie Belle gave due thought.

Tickets to Canterlot? That’d be amazing! I guess I can almost forgive her for ruining my moment, but she needs to learn. I don’t care what the universe has to say about it; I’m going to get my kiss, it’s going to be romantic, and it’s going to be totally special and perfect! That, and Rarity is going to hear about this later... Maybe she has a way to get around fate? “Applebloom...” Sweetie Belle said slowly, an innocent smile playing at her lips as she released her hold on Spike and rose. “You said she was going around telling all her friends, right?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s right....”

“I know exactly what to do!” she exclaimed, clapping her hooves excitedly before throwing up her hoof as Applebloom, Rumble, and Spike responded in turn, not knowing what they were agreeing to but confident that, if nothing else, Sweetie Belle had some good ideas. With a gleam in her eye and the sweet, sweet taste of a genius plot, Sweetie Belle declared their next course of action with unbridled excitement laced with the tantalizing venom of undiluted vexation. “Cutie Mark Crusaders Vengeance: Yay!”

Another day spent with a filly who was as energetic as she was adept at re-writing moral code became another day Silver Spoon spent questioning her values. Picking weeds had only been the beginning in a chain of menial chores she wouldn't have fathomed touching with a ten foot pole not two weeks back, but with every window wiped, every massive stack of papers sorted, and the soot cleaned from her hooves after a rather necessary investigation of the inside of the Cake's horrendous oven, Silver Spoon found herself not just ok with her disgusting tasks, but actually walking away with a strange sense of fulfillment that pushed bafflement to new heights. However, bafflement wasn't the only puzzlement that Silver Spoon battled within herself, and she found herself staring once more at a pony she would never have thought to give a second glance, but now found herself unwilling to look away.

What is it about her that I find so... Attractive. She refused to let the sentence finish forming in her mind, but her denial just made the tug worse. "H-hey! Watch what you're doing!" Silver Spoon barked as Ruby accidentally trod upon her tail. For a moment, Ruby simply stared at Silver Spoon who was straining to keep her glare intact, all while berating herself for responding with such volatility in the first place.

"I'm too tired to even try to correct your volume. Shout away, I guess..." Ruby replied collapsing a respectful distance away and rolling onto her side. Sheesh... I just can't seem to keep her happy. It's like... the happier she gets, the harder she snaps. So much for being talented at helping ponies...

She’s doing it again... that thing where she let’s me have my way, but it only makes me feel even worse. How, Ruby? How do you spend all of your time doing stupid, grimy work for nothing and still have the patience to deal with me? And why the hay does make me feel... feel so... Again, Silver Spoon was forced to diverge from the path her thoughts had taken, if only because too many words came to mind, each one as comforting as it was accusing to a filly struggling to understand seeds of desire that she didn’t want to bloom, but if her feeble attempts were likened to a basket starving the sapling of sunlight, then Ruby was the careful gardener, pulling away the covering and watering the new life like every other she cared for.

Ruby let slip a silent sigh as she felt the weight shift on the bed, preparing herself for some self-righteous justification or other prissy mumbo jumbo that she, quite honestly, didn’t care to hear. Her patience wasn’t limitless, she was tired, and Silver Spoon had been particularly sassy that afternoon, leaving her quite ready for a nap. What she was given, however, was more rejuvenating than even the deepest of sleeps.

“I... I’m sorry.” Genuine. Ruby didn’t believe that Silver Spoon was half as much a pain in the rump as she acted, but it was for that very reason that her muttered apologies and double-edged praise, in short supply though they were, felt more like further banter than an honest admission of fault, but there was no mistaking the authenticity within her quiet, frail voice.

“What... did you say?” Ruby replied, sitting up and daring to believe the excitement coursing through her heart. Breakthrough alert! Grab the fireworks and ready the balloons! Oh, please, please, please be what I think she said!

“I said ‘I’m sorry,’ ok? You know, that thing you say when you do something stupid and hurt somepony else? I do know the phrase,” Silver Spoon huffed, folding her hooves across her chest as her automatic response slipped out, only to be accompanied by downcast eyes that showed she knew she got it right the first time. Disregarding the veil of sarcasm, what Ruby heard was an honest admittance of regret from a filly recognizing that her actions had an effect on others, and it was nothing short of monumental, a moment of pride and triumph for Ruby that made every stubborn squabble and exasperated sigh worthwhile.

“Self-awareness... consideration of others... acceptance of consequences? Silver Spoon, do you have any idea what this means?!?” Ruby squealed, grabbing the filly’s hooves and shaking them wildly.

Don’t think about it. Just don’t think about it... Silver Spoon glanced at her hooves. She thought about it. “Uh... it... um...” Great. Could I be any more obvious?

“It means you have a heart! I knew it! Hah! You’re totally a pony and everything!”

“Oh, very astute. What tipped you off?” Silver Spoon shot back, her thoughts temporarily stabilized by Ruby’s declaration.

“Gonna be like that, huh, Spoony? I’ll take care of that!”

Spoony? Further contemplation of the emotional rush that resulted from being tagged with such an endearing label was forestalled by an elated tackle of epic proportions, landing them both in a heap on the floor. Ruby knew that Silver Spoon found physical contact with her abhorrent, and thus immediately removed herself from her furry, silver-coated pillow, unwittingly sparing the filly a mountain of embarrassment and leaving Silver Spoon to readjust her spectacles and finish her thoughts. “Don’t call me that.”

“Call you what?”

“That name.”

“Oh, Spoony?”

“Yes, that.”

“I dunno. I kinda like it. Rolls off the tongue a little easier than your full name.”

“Well, I guess your tongue is just going to have to get its exercise, then,” Silver Spoon declared, quite confident she had squelched the problem with a solid comeback... right up until Ruby degenerated into aggravatingly dainty titters.

“Oh my... it’s a bit soon for that, don’t you think, Spoony?” Ruby teased, wincing as the expected shouting blared in her ears, pushing her cachinnation further.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Silver Spoon shouted out of sheer desperation, racing over to where Ruby lay laughing uproariously. “Do you really think for one second that I’d ever even do something like that?” The question slipped out before she could stop it, and there was no taking it back.

“I'm not really sure what to say to that, Silver Spoony,” Ruby chortled, putting a little effort towards calming down due to the filly’s attempts to make her cheeks match Ruby’s coat. Spoony sure gets worked up easily. She’s loud, but it’s kinda funny if I’m not dead tired. “You’re constantly surprising me,” she continued, her snickers easing as she sat up and caught her breath, “but it’s none of my business who you like. Filly, colt, or both: it doesn't make a difference to me either way! You’re my friend, and that’s all that matters!” She’d expected sarcasm, a jibe, an airy dismissal, or some other prissy, lofty response that maintained her position as queen above the lowly pauper, but as good as she was at reading others, Ruby was missing every blaring signal Silver Spoon was sending off. Tears, however, are hard to misinterpret.

That... that was all I wanted to hear from you, Diamond Tiara. Why couldn’t you just... One drop trickled down, leading a path for the rest as the filly began to shut down, burdened by the weight of abandonment. How you manage to constantly dredge up everything I don’t want to face without even trying is beyond me, Ruby. Why? Why the hay do I have to be like this?!? A hoof came down gently on her shoulder, but with everything bottled inside threatening to breach the outer wall, Silver Spoon whirled, knocking the hoof away and redirecting her anger where it had no business being. “Don’t...”

“Ok,” Ruby whispered, rubbing her hoof and averting her eyes from those that blazed with malice. “I’ll let you have some time alone. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.” Silver Spoon wanted to speak, to apologize, to beg forgiveness of the one she knew she was using as a proverbial punching bag as she worked towards piecing her life back together, but nothing came out save a choked whimper. She’d done it again, and the empty room she now faced as Ruby gently closed the door behind her was greater than she deserved.

It’s worth it, but that doesn’t make it not hurt... Ruby looked down at her fore leg, showing a faint redness where Silver Spoon’s hoof had made connection, pondering for just a moment if she was following the right path. A rueful smile slowly eclipsed her frown, bringing with it a calm, quiet laughter of acceptance: she helped ponies. Reasonable or not, it’s just the way she was, and she was content to continue on just as she always did, and as she strode into the kitchen where her mother Berry Punch sat reading a book and idly sipping on some juice, the words “I’m sorry” that she’d framed in her mind gave her all the push she needed.

“Mom? If somepony is sad, which one of Shiny’s drinks would be best for cheering them up?” Ruby asked, trotting over and cracking open the fridge.

“I thought I heard some shouting,” Berry mused, setting down her novel and giving her daughter her full attention. “How sad? Sullen, depressed, snobby sad?”

“Closer to ‘weeping buckets of tears’ sad, actually,” Ruby replied, eyeing the well-stocked appliance.

“Hmmm... well, I’d say a drop of moonshine would do anypony good, but that’s running low and Silver won’t be able to make any until the next Zap Apple harvest. Oh, and I don’t know how Silver Spoon’s parents would feel about their daughter getting a little tipsy,” Berry chuckled, standing and walking over. “Shockberry juice tends to make you pretty giggly, but if they’re really sad, I’d go with something more traditional. Here, try the maple soda.”

“Pour a glass for me too, if you could,” Ruby asked, gratefully accepting her cup and taking a seat at the table to recuperate before facing the storm. Whether it was the carbonation or the sweetness, she couldn’t say, but sipping her drink didn't last, and she quaffed most of hers down within moments.

“Awww, that’s my girl,” Berry Punch teased, shooting her daughter a wink as she sheepishly ceased her efforts to coax that last, finite drop of carbonated bliss from the bottom of the glass and folded her hooves in mock indignation.

“It’s not my fault Shiny makes such tasty drinks,” Ruby defended, holding her scowl for a few more seconds before breaking into a grin. “I’d better get back. Time to put your guess to the test!”

“If there’s one thing I know, it’s drinks,” Berry asserted, taking another sip of her juice. “Go on, sweetie. It’s rude to keep a lady waiting.” Wrapping Silver Spoon’s cup in a soft, pink aura, Ruby set about doing just that, pausing outside the door before quietly letting herself in to find the filly right where’d she’d left her.

“Here, drink this,” Ruby said quietly, taking a seat beside her and floating the glass over. After several moments of holding the drink at ready, Ruby decided that maybe she needed a little more coaxing, and launched a dual pronged assault the skillfully blended pointed jesting and tender care. “Oh, I forgot. You probably have ponies who do that for you.” Silver Spoon slowly turned, her lips parting as she began to speak before finding them occupied with the rim of a cup. “Don’t speak, just drink,” Ruby urged softly, tilting the glass back a little more.

How can a single act that’s so stupidly simple... make me feel so... cherished? No lavish comfort or pampering could come close to comparing to the wealth of gratitude Silver Spoon held for such kindness, and unwilling to let it end, her hooves remained firmly planted on the floor. Ruby slowly floated the cup back over as the last sip was taken, and for a time, the two simply watched each other, one in confusion, the other in adoration. “I’m really... I’m sorry, Ruby. You didn’t deserve that...”

“Dang, what’d my Uncle Shiny put in this stuff?” Ruby pondered, puzzlement stamped on her muzzle as she inspected the now empty glass. “I mean, I knew it tasted good, but I didn’t know it cured the dumbs.”

“I...” Silver Spoon started, taking it upon herself to stifle the protest before it began. “I might have deserved that... I guess...”

And so the silver begins to shine a little brighter... It’s always the hardest jobs that bring the greatest satisfaction, and you’re going to take forever to polish, I bet. I swear, Diamond Tiara left so much junk for me to clean off... “I might be able to accept your apology... I guess...” Ruby replied with a cheeky grin, matching Silver Spoon’s reluctant tone and letting her laughter ring out as a lifesong for them both. Questions answered lead to questions raised: Silver Spoon was still terribly confused, but she grew more convinced with every interaction that Ruby was key to finding the answer to every query trapped within her mind.

“Ruby! You have some guests at the door!” Berry Punch called out, catching her daughter’s attention.

“Send ‘em in!” Ruby called back, leaping to her hooves. “Oh, don’t look like that,” Ruby said, shaking her head as Silver Spoon adopted an air of indifference. “My friends are just as nice as me, Silver Spoon. Maybe not as good looking,” she teased, tossing her mane and unwittingly flustering the other filly as Sweetie Belle and her entourage of three others tumbled into her room, bursting with excitement enough to share. “Sweetie Belle? Ok, she’s too busy laughing. Applebloom, what’s going on?”

“Scootaloo’s been watching ponies get pervy an’ now we need you t’ do the same!”

“Uh, what now?” Ruby replied, vaguely amused and quite curious as to why she was being asked to join in such a questionable pass time.

“Your friends have quite the, uh... interesting hobby,” Silver Spoon murmured, forcing Ruby to stifle a giggle of her own as Spike raised a claw to capture their attention, taking a few gasps for air before giving them the full rundown on Scootaloo’s emotionless destruction of tender moments.

“So basically,” Sweetie Belle chimed in, standing next to Spike with a wicked glint in her eye, “the moment Scootaloo comes in, we need you and Silver Spoon to make it look as saucy as possible.”

“You want us to what? You can’t be serious.” Silver Spoon’s adamant refusal was purely one sided, a fact that couldn’t well be denied with any shred of serious belief; she was practically breathless with laughter at Sweetie Belle’s scheme. “While you ponies may have lower standards, I would never do something so...”

“Oh, come off your... your pedestal, Spoony!” Ruby giggled in between gaping mouthfuls of much needed air.

“I told you not to call me that!” Silver Spoon shot back, her reproving glare only tickling Ruby further. “Hmph, I suppose such behavior wouldn't bother a filly of your class...”

“Yup!” Ruby chortled, picking herself up and beaming back at the crowd of ponies that had gathered in her room. “Sweetie Belle, we are so in! Here, hide in my closet.” Leading Sweetie Belle, Spike, Applebloom and Rumble over to the double doors, Ruby opened them and stared blankly as a murmur of surprise and wonder swept over her audience.

“Ah had no idea you had so many prizes an’ such. What is all this?” Applebloom asked, her eyes darting from page to page of certificates and photos. Silver Spoon was similarly entranced, her protests of her involvement in a scandal most uncouth laid aside as she was bombarded by the smiling faces of no fewer than fifty ponies, all with a certain pink unicorn beaming by their side.

“Ruby, what is... ‘Certificate of Outstanding Public Service?’” Silver Spoon read, turning her eyes from the pages and looking back to Ruby, currently shifting nervously as she stared at the ground, with baffled wonder. “I don’t... understand.” With a sigh, Ruby looked at the wall that was her inspiration in the darkest of times, and encouragement in the face of adversity, spending a few moments in silent contemplation before nodding slowly, both to herself and the rest that were gathered.

“I... don’t help ponies for recognition or fame,” Ruby explained in a quiet, nervous voice. “Mayor Mare has tried more than once to present these awards to me for all the help I do around Ponyville, but I’m not doing it to be noticed. Those pictures are all of ponies I’ve helped in some way or another, and that’s payment enough. I know they appreciate it, so why do I need an award?” Making her way through the miniature crowd, Ruby gazed upon her legacy with genuine thanksgiving. “Really, I’m not sure who helped who the most...”

“That’s really neat, Ruby!” Rumble quipped, and soon Ruby was blushing under a slew of praise and congratulations. She knew they meant well, and since they were her friends, it didn’t bother her near as much as it would have, but it was exactly the sort of thing she sought to avoid.

“Ok, ok, I got it. I’m a great pony and all that,” Ruby interjected, waving a hoof to forestall any further adoration. “In exchange for helping you guys out, you gotta promise me you won’t go spreading this around. Seriously, I’d get sore from all the ponies patting my back!”

“Ah won’t tell a soul until you’re ready t’ let the world know, Ruby, but you ain’t got no reason t’ hide. Nopony could look at that an feel anythin’ other than a great heap o’ respect!” Applebloom declared, raising a cheer and bringing a faint flush to the filly’s cheeks.

“Thanks, everypony. Now, you should probably...” Ruby started, falling silent as the sound of somepony knocking on the front door caused an immediate hush. “Positions! Hurry, go go go!” Ruby hissed, shushing the giggling quartet as they piled into her closet. “Silver Spoon, I need you up here on the bed. Snuggle up close, and I’ll take care of the rest.” No argument, no attitude, no anything that Ruby would have expected came from the filly, who simply turned and stared back at the unicorn who couldn’t even begin to guess how she had pushed the tumultuous state of an unsure heart towards breaking point.

I can’t remember a single pony who has ever said “thank you” to me. Have I ever said those words, and actually meant them, to another besides Ruby? I don’t think so... Slowly, she climbed onto the bed, her thoughts deepening with each step. Am I appreciated? Have I ever done anything worthwhile? Do I have... even a single picture to show for it... Silver Spoon slowly sank to her haunches. I... don’t want to keep going this way. I want to learn. I want to be wanted... appreciated...

“Spoony? You ok?” Ruby’s inquiry was met only with the soft sensation of the filly pressing gently against her side, addling Ruby further and raising more than a few questions in her mind. Ok, well, this is different. I thought she said she wasn’t going to help? Dang it, I need to ask Twilight if I can use magic to read minds! That’d be so helpful... It needed to be saucy. It needed to be scarring. It needed, Silver Spoon decided, to seem genuine for maximum shock value, and thus she refused to fight the blush rising to her cheeks.

“Hey, that’s pretty good,” Ruby whispered, nodding as she levitated something out of sight to give her horn a radiant glow. “Just like that.”

Every word of praise, every stupid, sweet smile... Hoofbeats sounded their rapid approach, and with her tumultuous emotions reaching crescendo, Silver Spoon closed her eyes and reaffirmed within herself one of the few absolutes she could believe beyond a shadow of a doubt. I want to change. And I... want you to be the pony to teach me, Ruby. As the door swung open in Scootaloo’s third abrupt and final unannounced entrance of the day, the faint pink aura around an unprepared unicorn filly’s horn pulsed just a little brighter as something soft and gentle pressed against her cheek.

It was a poignant moment for all. Ruby, for example, experienced the faintest glimmer of comprehension with every odd blush Silver Spoon seemed to display on a daily basis, her sudden spaz attacks at the slightest prolonged physical contact, and the dreamy stares Ruby had rightfully interpreted as the filly simply having a lot on her mind, though the understanding that it was because of her set in about as fast as the heat attempting to immolate herself and her unexpectedly romantic acquaintance. Silver Spoon, while admittedly not taking the most stealthy approach, had seen a prime opportunity work out some of the mounting tension within herself under the guise of a clever ruse while simultaneously proving that she was also willing to give a little in her friendship with Ruby. For the first time in a very long while, the filly felt clean. Free. Alive. And Scootaloo... well, Scootaloo was having a bad day.

Having spent the entire trip to Ruby’s house telling herself over and over again that she would finally obtain solace from the horrendous curse of romantic bombardment that seemed to be following her everywhere she went, starting lightly with Applebloom’s little tryst with Rotty and quickly accelerating towards insidious and beyond with Pipsqueak’s flagrant disregard for dignity, Rumble’s suave pioneering of Applebloom’s heart and, as it appeared, soon to be body, and Sweetie Belle’s umpteenth attempt at a kiss, this time involving a provocatively glowing horn amidst a room awash with saucy intent. And so, as she swung open the door and all too prepared to bask in the sanctuary that was a room where romance was never even a possibility in her mind, what she faced were two furiously blushing fillies, one casting the room in a dancing pink light, and one with her muzzle ever so delicately pressing against a rosen cheek. Scootaloo stood in the doorway, her hoof on the door and her eyes attempting to mimic the ever expanding universe that she was absolutely convinced was out to get her.

What was she to do? Presented with an utterly incomprehensible scene of sensuous romance where she ardently believed it would never be found, Scootaloo’s jaw slowly reached for the floor the circuit breaker to mental fortitude, and neural function overall, was severed as with an axe. Scootaloo’s mind snapped. Like a twig.

“Hey you two! Kissing, huh? Right! Kissing. Kissing with lips. Lips are soft! Wonderbolts derby! You’ll be busy to come, well? Right! Kissing busy. Bye!” While Scootaloo’s mind froliced through a wondrous beach where the shore was made of fragments of glass, lapped by the molten tongue of a lava sea drenched in the gentle light of a dying sun, her hooves carried away the broken spirit of a tomcolt filly away from from the blushing duet and into the kitchen where Berry Punch was again forced to set down her book to witness a most curious scene. Reaching absentmindedly for the nearest bottle, Scootaloo popped the cork and chugged a startling amount without hesitation.

“Scootaloo? I wasn’t aware that Grace let you drink,” Berry began, adding amused to confused as the filly delicately set the bottle back in its place, stood stock still a moment before turning and flashing the mare a winsome smile.

“Kissing!” came the enigmatic reply, and having said her piece and drunk her fill, Scootaloo was fueled for the journey home. Three steps. Four would be one more than the filly had taken and two would be one shy of the proper number before Scootaloo’s hooves gave way, caving out from under her as unintentional imbibement of alcohol took its toll. “Funny jelly, feel like legs! Walking. House! Yay~!” Prying herself off the floor and operating entirely off of nervous energy akin to adrenaline but only supplied in the face of horrors too harrowing for the mind to comprehend, Scootaloo tottered over to the door and started on her way home, away from the kissing, and the kissing, and perhaps also the kissing. Oh, and the kissing. Can’t forget the kissing!

Back inside, one unicorn filly was attempting to reconcile within herself that every denial towards the authenticity of the kiss she’d been given was about as solid a defense against a dragon’s flames as a solitary slice of swiss cheese. Ruby, while perhaps not quite as broken as Scootaloo, slowly lifted a hoof to her burning cheek as she opened her mouth to speak, though what escaped was a quiet noise that perfectly described her addled state.

“Hngh?”

“What? You said you wanted it to look saucy,” Silver Spoon giggled, blushing furiously and acting as nonchalant as possible in order to save her own hide and conceal her secret on the off chance she hadn't made it glaringly obvious. Ruby would have commented, or at least tried, but after an utter lack of screaming and pointed absence of dry heaves and other expected signs of social discomfort from one orange pegasus, Sweetie Belle and the rest piled out of the closet to find themselves feeling every bit as out of place as they had hoped to inflict upon Scootaloo.

“Uh... Ruby, you can stop using magic now. Scootaloo is gone.”

“Huh? I’m not using magic.”

“Your horn certainly thinks you are,” Sweetie Belle began, snorting at her friends attempted prank. “I’m not gonna fall for that, you know.”

“B-but I’m not using magic!” Ruby stammered defensively, becoming painfully aware that the bed was still bathed under pink light as the dawning silence of fearful comprehension descended among her friends and their eyes which grew very, very wide.

“Well, Ruby, it’s been interesting, but I do believe it’s time for me to head home!” Silver Spoon declared, ditching her stunned audience and pausing at the doorway, batting her eyes a little as she flirted with the unknown, and also with the filly gaping wide eyed and glowing upon the bed. “Bye~ Ruby! Don’t have too much fun without me~!” A wink, a gallop, and Ruby was left with too many questions and no answers for Gabby Gum’s interrogation. A nervous squee was all Ruby managed to get out as Sweetie Belle hopped onto the bed and showed a little bit more of her inner Rarity as she thrust her face close with gleeful interest in business not her own.

“Ruby? Tell... me... everything!”

“Scootaloo? Ahoy, look out!” Pipsqueak called out, waving enthusiastically and staring in puzzlement as he noticed an inordinate amount of sway in her step. I wonder what’s going on? Normally, she’s really, really coordinated, but right now she’s... His thoughts paused as Scootaloo passed by, taking a few steps before forgetting that walking involves all four legs, not just the back two, landing her face down in the dirt and giggling up a storm. Slightly worried for his crew member, Pipsqueak immediately trotted over and sat waiting for her to discontinue her quite successful taste test of the earthen road, but as nearly a minute stretched by and Scootaloo found herself quite content to let the ground lavish its affection upon her, her blurry vision was given new sight as Pipsqueak gently tipped her over and offered a helping hoof.

“Are ye feelin’ well, lass? Do ye need help gettin’ home?” A full ten seconds passed as the colt’s distorted voice sunk in, penetrating deep inside and stirring something within the filly’s heart.

Captain? Captain! I should hoof the kiss. “Kishing...” Scootaloo accepted the colt’s invitation, grasping the offered hoof gently and giving Pipsqueak the most blatantly amorous leer he’d ever received. If that wasn’t enough to tip the captain off that his crew member was currently in harpy mode, the sensation of having his hoof enclosed within Scootaloo’s mouth was.

“T-that’s a b-bit more than h-holding hooves, lass!” Pipsqueak stammered, lasso’d by the strings of his own heart and quite incapable of doing much else but pondering with wonder the fiery sensation that had engulfed his face. Uh oh, the Siren is back! Evasive maneuvers! Nothing happened. Hull breach! Bailout! Again, his commands to move failed. Line by line, he tried every prompt he knew and even a few that, admittedly, didn’t make sense, but nothing seemed to be able to get his legs moving again. At least, not until his commodore approached him unawares and reprimanded the colt for his lack of manners.

“No, no, ye’ve got it all wrong, lad...” Gale chortled, trotting over and greeting the overwhelmed colt currently afflicted with a most potent charm hex. “Everypony knows it’s the colt who kisses the lady’s hoof. Come on, then: do it proper.”

“Y-ye don’t know what ye be askin’, Cap’n!” Pipsqueak shouted back, temporarily halting Scootaloo’s suckling for a moment before she shifted slightly and began again. “I’m a pirate! I like adventure, not flirtin’ with death! Do ye even know what befalls sailors who dare tempt a harpy?”

“Manners, lad. It ain’t proper to call a lady such things. Now, go on. Ye won’t die, ye ‘ave my word.”

I’m not gonna die, I’m not gonna die... Like a baby deprived of a bottle, Scootaloo’s merry stupor shifted to tragic bereavement as her painted hoof popsicle was cruelly snatched away. Pipsqueak cringed as an infantile wail rent the air, setting the stage for his grandstanding debut as debonair extraordinaire. “Scootaloo! Shhh, it’s ok!”

“Kishing! Kishing~!” the filly whined, her speech heavily slurred as she grasped feebly towards the colt. With a jovial tone of “...what the hay?!?” permeating the air, Pipsqueak caught one of Scootaloo’s limp hooves, swallowed hard, and hesitantly brought his muzzle towards its fateful destination. “Kishing...” Contact was about to be made when Pipsqueak caught a heavy whiff of her breath and the traces of wine contained therein.

Wait a second... “Have ye been into the grog, lass? Ye smell like ye’ve had a barrel t’ yerself.”

“Yum!”

“Haharr, what a relief!” Pipsqueak laughed, his pirate’s mind put to ease by such a laudable excuse for excessive affection. “I knew ye weren’t just fallen fer the captain, lass.” Not that I’d mind, really. I wonder what she'd think about that? “An up and coming rogue like yerself? Huh, doesn’t bare thinkin’ about. Yer a tricky one, look out! C’mon then, let’s get ye home.” No longer concerned with the filly drooling down the side of his neck and secretly not entirely opposed to her affection, Pipsqueak supported the filly and started their tottering journey back towards her house, leaving his bemused captain with but one thought on his mind.

“...I feel right sorry fer Storm. Oh aye, they may take their sweet time gettin’ there, but the moment those two realize they’re already in love, it ain’t gonna be the lad’s hoof that’s gettin’ all the attention.”

Family Time

Chapter 14: Family Time

“Hey, Applejack! Do you have a moment?” Pregnant, exasperated, and quite worn out from an afternoon of self-inflicted chores with which to give herself an excuse to be anywhere but near the cordial stallion trotting towards her, the mare heaved a sigh, gave the tree one last buck, and shook a drop of sweat from her snout as Braeburn neared.

“What is it, Braeburn? Make it quick, ah gotta finish up here so ah can get ready for tonight.” Preferably by guzzlin’ a quart o’ juice an’ tellin’ mahself it’s wine. What ah wouldn’t give fer a nice drop o’ moonshine right now... To Applejack’s surprise, Braeburn gave a contrite nod, even pausing a moment before speaking.

“Need t’ get cleaned up fer tonight? Well, that’s certainly a fine idea. Ain’t proper manners t’ entertain when yer sweatin’ from a long day's work,” he conceded, nodding his approval. “May want to add some fragrance in there somewhere, cousin. That kind of smell just doesn’t mesh well with good home cookin’.”

“Honest as ever, ain’t ya...” Applejack murmured, staring at the basket filled to the brim with fragrant apples before her, reluctantly finding some appreciation for her cousin’s forthrightness. “Ah suppose ah could use a shower, but ah’m sure that’s not what ya came over here t’ tell me. What’s on yer mind, cousin?”

“Granny Smith just spent no small amount of time telling me how important tonight is to Applebloom,” Braeburn explained, trotting over and glancing around at the buckets ringed around the tree. “I’ve been told she’s taken a real shine to that gray colt that had the nice manners, an’ that his family is coming over t’ join us fer dinner.”

“That’s right,” Applejack confirmed, a little taken aback by her cousin’s serious behavior. “Why, is that a problem?”

“Not in the slightest, cousin. I’m sure they’re real nice folk, I’m just a little worried about them joinin’ us is all. First impressions are right important, an’ I’m sure Applebloom must have spent a good portion of the day frettin’ over this.” Applejack was taken aback, completely at a loss for words. Not only was Braeburn displaying a startling amount of self-awareness, but he was acting on it with a maturity she rarely witnessed with him. “I can’t imagine how hard it would be for her if somepony did something right improper and embarrassin’...” Braeburn’s rumination turned to confusion as Applejack gave him a reassuring hug and a few words of comfort that nearly escaped as a squeal of glee, so great was her relief.

“Finally, somepony’s comin’ round! Oh, ah thought ah’d never see the day... Now, don’t you worry none, cousin Braeburn! It seems you’ve finally got yer head on straight, so tonight should be a heapin’ load o’ fun fer everypony. Ah...”

“Me? Shoot, cousin, I’m not worried ‘bout me,” Braeburn laughed, pulling away and meeting the mare’s lack of comprehension with a rueful grin. “After all, I’m always on my best behavior, so you can expect me to be as tame as a kitten tonight! I’m just worried about you, cousin.” Applejack’s jaw unhinged in pure disbelief as Braeburn placed a well-meaning hoof on her head like he would a filly and rustled her mane a bit before adopting a patronizing tone and dutifully giving the mare a quick instructional on the ins and outs of proper entertaining. “Now, I know your manners ain’t what they used to be, but can ya at least try t’ be polite? It just wouldn’t be proper to go dashin’ off every time somepony joins a conversation or other such nonsense.”

He can’t seriously be lecturin’ me... can he? “Braeburn...”

“Now, don’t go interruptin’ me, cous; that ain’t proper either,” Braeburn chided, beginning to pace as he continued. “It wouldn’t hurt you t’ be a little more social. It’s been quite some time since last I was home, and yet you’ve spent most of your time buckin’ trees! Now, I know there’s a lot of work to be done, what with it being harvest an’ all, but family is more important than a few more bushels of apples.”

This from somepony who’s a few trees short of an orchard... “Braeburn, ah...”

“Need t’ apologize, I understand, and I forgive you, Applejack. No hard feelings,” Braeburn graciously replied, shooting the mare a wink. “Now, I’d go on, but I can see the determination shinin’ in your eyes, so I’ll just head back and rest easy knowing that you’ll be on your best behavior.” Brimming with pride at a pony well-lectured, Braeburn sauntered off while Applejack looked on, her jaw set as tantalizing thoughts of cruelty not befitting a pony so well versed in the importance of harmony and friendship. Lifting her eyes to the heavens, an honest mare offered a sincere petition to the celestial powers that be, as much for herself as for everypony else.

“Celestia, Luna, ah’m know ah’m not the most tame pony... Ah can get a little rough sometimes, an’ mostly it’s just fer sport, but if there’s any way y’all could lend me the strength to stay mah hoof from murder tonight, ah’d be right grateful.” Loathe though she was to extend any kind of credence to Braeburn’s babble, it was true she could likely use a thorough rinsing, so she loaded the last remaining baskets into a cart, hauled it back to the barn, and made straight for the solitude of a shower in her own home. Stepping into the stream long before it heated to a normal temperature, Applejack heaved a grateful sigh and let the refreshing cascade build to a soothingly heated downpour, washing away the dirt, sweat, and worries.

Were Applejack not so deep in concentration, regulating her breathing and doing what she could for Applebloom’s sake to calm herself, she would likely have noticed the entrance of a concerned husband who simply stood in the doorway for a time and watched. Silver couldn’t help but flash a rueful smile as he trotted away, sifting through the fridge and pulling out the proper bottle.

“It’s not what you’d like, but it’ll have to do, I suppose...” he murmured, uncorking the non-alcoholic brew and filling a chalice to the brim, levitating it onto the counter before trotting away. Often, it was the simpler acts of kindness that proved to be the more profound, and as Applejack begrudgingly shut off the flow and stepped out, she pulled back her ample mane to find Silver’s humble peace offering. For a few moments, the mare simply stared at the glass, an affectionate smile and defeated sigh forming the refrain for her cadence of submission as she let go of the last of her frustration and brought the treat to her lips, relishing the sweetness both of the drink and the brewer who had made it.

“On behalf of mah family an’ the towns o’ Ponyville an’ Appleoosa, ah’d like t’ thank you fer savin’ a life tonight,” Applejack chuckled as she cantered into the livingroom, taking a seat next to Silver on the small sofa and laying on her side with her head upon the stallion’s lap. “Ah swear, every time that cousin o’ mine opens his mouth, ah feel like buckin’ trees with mah face would be a better way t’ spend mah time.”

“That’s a little harsh, sweetheart,” Silver laughed quietly, bringing a hoof to the mare’s mane and draping the other loosely over her stomach, massaging gently as he did so. “It’ll be a wonder if anypony passes your test tonight; I’ve heard of some tough tests that mares have given inquisitive stallions back in Manehatten, but if Rumble can make it through this...“

“You’re right, sugarcube,” Applejack nodded, turning towards Silver and grinning. “If Rumble can make it through tonight, he’ll deserve a trophy, a heapin’ load o’ bits on top of a life time supply of apples, Applebloom’s hoof in marriage, an’ maybe some therapy.”

“Maybe?”

“Ok, definitely some therapy, an’ a good sugar coma t’ sleep off what the clinic can’t fix in the poor colt’s head.”

“That’s more like it, sweetheart,” Silver murmured, giving her a tender squeeze. The light sifting in through the windows shifted from pale gold to a soft crimson as the two conversed in quiet tones, and after a tender kiss, they knew that it was time. “So,” Silver began as they neared the door, “what is Rumble going to get after tonight?”

“If Applebloom has any sense at all, well...” Applejack chuckled, trotting a short distance ahead and stopping to gaze at the fading light sifting through the trees. “It ain’t somethin’ ah wanna hear becomin’ a habit for ‘em this young, but if ah’m t’ be fair an’ honest, ah’d say this kind o’ torment warrants at least a kiss.”

As much as reliving the glory days when gathering juicy gossip netted fame and laughter from all but those featured on the front page, Applebloom didn’t find herself particularly interested in tormenting the pink unicorn currently burying her muzzle and glowing horn underneath her pillow with pesky questions about how and why she was so thoroughly disgruntled. It was clear that something had happened in the short space of time she and her friends had crowded into the closet, and Sweetie Belle’s insistence on full disclosure was met with silence, groans, muffled groans, and more silence. Peeking out the window, Applebloom noted the sun’s position and turned back to the bed where Sweetie Belle continued to gleefully exacerbate one discombobulated filly’s already lamentable position.

“Sweetie Belle, ah’d leaver her alone if ah were you,” Applebloom warned, the very model of seriousness as she approached the other side of the bed and put a sympathetic hoof on Ruby’s back. “Ah think the universe has taken a shine t’ Discord’s manner o’ doin’ things, if mah cousin’s arrival means anythin’. Today’s been right crazy, an’ yer only gonna store up trouble for yerself pryin’ into things that ain’t yer business.”

“Whatever, Applebloom. You sure are superstitious,” Sweetie Belle retorted, pouting a little as her mood began to revert back towards wrongful deprivation of romance. “Spike, we should probably... Spike?” Ruby peeked out a little as Sweetie Belle gave a short growl of frustration at the dragon’s unexplained absence. “Fine, then! I’ve had about enough today, anyways.” Marching off in a huff over not really much at all, Applebloom coaxed Ruby further out of hiding with a soft giggle.

“Sweetie Belle’s gonna have t’ wind down soon, or poor Spike is gonna have himself a little meltdown. Rumble, do me a favor an’ whack me good if ah ever get that love crazy, would ya?”

“Nuh uh!” he quipped, popping up on the otherside and grinning widely. “Applejack would stomp me into applesauce if I ever laid a hoof on you!”

“An’ that’s if she’s feelin’ charitable!” Applebloom asserted, nodding sagely and waving a hoof in warning. “It just wouldn’t look right walking down the aisle with a jar full o’ Rumble juice on mah head, now would it?” It took the filly a few moments to comprehend the blank stare with which she was now being regarded by two ponies, and as each piped up in turn, Applebloom came to the conclusion that cluelessness was either deathly contagious or woefully genetic, and either way she was in it deep.

“...aisle?” Rumble repeated in a dazed tone, somewhat startled that Applebloom’s mind had gone where his had, admittedly, wandered a time or two. Ruby, being the more sultry of her friends, tilted her head to the side with a lopsided grin and slowly repeated a different portion of Applebloom’s unprocessed remark.

“‘Rumble juice?’”

“It ain’t mah fault!” Applebloom cried, dropping behind the edge of the bed and covering her head. “Bein’ around Braeburn is makin’ mah words come out all funny, an’ dangit Ruby, ah didn’t mean anything like... like...”

“What? I was just thinking about how much you like glue!” Ruby squealed, falling onto her back and laughing loud and long, inducing a fearful blush in both the other ponies present. Applebloom was slightly jealous at how Ruby could wrap innuendo within a pristine white box of innocence, neatly topped with a bow of good natured fun, and with a sigh Applebloom decided it was time to depart.

“Ah see what you did there, Ruby. Yeesh, one special moment with Silver Spoon an’ yer gettin’ all pervy on me...” Applebloom muttered, causing a temporary lull in the filly’s torrent of giggles. That dammed her right up. Now ah’m especially curious... “Don’t worry, Ruby,” Applebloom said in a reassuring tone as she stood upright, still blushing faintly but stable enough to think straight. “Ah’m not gonna pester you about what happened, but if ya wanna talk about it ever, ah’m...”

“She kissed me.” Ruby had to wonder if it was somehow wrong to glean tremendous satisfaction from the way the simple statement of fact left both of her friends dumbstruck and open mouthed. “It wasn’t anything major, just a little one on the cheek, but it really caught me off guard. I mean, from Silver Spoon? I didn’t see that coming, let me tell you! As far as I know, she doesn’t like being touched at all! Though, I’m starting to wonder a little now...”

Not anythin’ major? Just thinkin’ ‘bout Rumble doin’ that makes mah heart beat a million miles a minute... If his mane is that soft, ah wonder how his lips... no, stop it, Bloom! “Ah... guess if somethin’ maybe happened between her and Diamond Tiara, that would explain why they ain’t hangin’ out anymore,” Applebloom pondered aloud, with Ruby nodding her agreement.

“Applebloom, Rumble, can you both do me a favor and not tell anypony about this? Silver Spoon probably wouldn’t want anypony knowing about it, and I kind of told you without really thinking about it.”

“Ah can imagine how gettin’ kissed might make it hard t’ think straight fer a while,” Applebloom agreed. “Don’t worry, me an’ Rumble won’t tell a soul. Right?”

“Uh huh! Your secret is safe with us!”

“Thanks, you two. Yikes, it’s getting dark already?” Ruby murmured, turning towards the window. “Time sure flies when you’re... well, whatever today was.”

“Sorry, ah don’t feel like playin’ dictionary right now. Besides, the day ain’t over fer me an’ Rumble. Speakin’ o’ which, we’d best get goin’, Rumble,” Applebloom mentioned with a look of regret. “Ah think ah’d like a little time t’ rest before ‘family time’ starts.” Together they bid Ruby farewell and began the trek back towards Rumble’s house. At the colt’s suggestion, he flew ahead and informed Thunderlane to just head over to Sweet Apple Acres when he and the girls were finished getting ready, noting that Flitter was still being held captive by her mane and would likely not be removed from her place before the mirror until every last strand was in its perfect place; the mare had a soft spot for vanity. Applebloom heaved a yawn as Rumble returned, fortunately without any new wounds from his flight, albeit a brief one, and gratefully marched back towards home.

“Well, howdy there, sis. You look plumb tuckered out,” Applejack chuckled as the filly and her colt friend approached. “The rest comin’ along later, ah take it?”

“Yeah, that’s right. Sis, if it’s all right with you, can ah head t’ mah room an’ rest fer a bit? Ah’m not tryin’ t’ be rude t’ Braeburn none, honest ah’m not, but ah just...”

“No need t’ explain, sugarcube. Ah know exactly what ya mean,” Applejack chuckled. “Run along inside, then. Ah’ll come get ya when the rest o’ the guests are here.” Accepting her sister’s warm embrace and whispered thanks, Applejack nodded her understanding motioned towards the house, whereupon Applebloom led Rumble inside. Having no desire to draw attention to themselves and thereby guarantee an enthusiastic and likely time consuming greeting from Braeburn, Applebloom motioned for Rumble to be as quiet as possible, and together they skulked over to her room and heaved a sigh of relief as soundproofed walls offered glorious solace. Rumble felt not even the slightest hesitation at being inside the filly’s room, in part because they’d spend a fair amount of time in his and neither of their minds were so jam-packed with romance that something so simple would give either of them pause, and they were both soon gratefully laying back, side by side and staring up at the ceiling.

“It’s been a long day, hasn’t it,” Applebloom murmured, letting her tired eyes rest as fatigue came over her like a gentle wave lapping at the sandy shore.

“Uh huh...” Rumble agreed, covering his mouth as a cavernous yawn relaxed his body and mind, removing any interest in moving from his current position. Like the warmth of a family made quilt, quietude descended upon them, each sitting with their own thoughts. Rumble couldn’t deny his excitement for the promised trip to Canterlot, but the “main” attraction of the races was just icing on the cake. I hope it isn’t too soon, but I’d really like this trip to be our first date. I guess I’d have to ask her to go out with me, though. While the signs of interest were obvious, they had danced around the subject by finding ways to rationalize how their actions still fell under the category of friendship, but to ask the question was to shine the spotlight on the feelings they both had come to accept without ever actually confronting. Everything would change.

It’s been right around a week now since ah met Rumble. Ah never even thought about romance or anythin’ until he came crashin’ into mah life, but now... ah can’t imagine life without ‘im. Ah hardly know ‘im, an’ ah’m sure there are things he ain’t told me, but... ah hope he asks me soon, ‘cause ah can’t well say we’re “just friends” without it feelin’ like a lie...

I wonder if she’d be happy if I asked her now? But... don’t most girls like it to be romantic and stuff? Wait... heehee, what am I thinking... Applebloom didn’t notice the vibrations in the bed as Rumble laughed silently at his glaringly obvious blunder in likening Applebloom to other fillies. Applebloom is Applebloom. There isn’t a comparison to make, because she’s the only girl I know that talks to boats. I’m sure I’ll know the moment when it happens.

A sound, gentle as a raindrop falling into a tranquil pond, caused just enough of a ripple to garner the colt’s attention, bidding him turn towards the source: a filly singing the sonnet of sleep. Her still form, her quiet snores, the gentle rise and fall of her chest to match the rhythm of her heart: to embrace such beauty, Rumble knew, would be far too forward, so he contented himself with a simple touch, scooting a little closer and gently laying his hoof over hers, watching in reverent awe as a smile slowly spread across her muzzle. It pained him to let such a sight fade from his vision, but the allure of rest proved too great for leaden eyelids to resist, and as one snore became two, so also did a second smile spread as a young pegasus was whisked away to the land of dreams.

“Flitter’s still messing with her mane, huh?” Thunderlane grunted a little as Cloudchaser excitedly hopped over the back of the couch and flopped onto his lap with all the grace of a cannonball. While he didn’t often choose to shine the spotlight on some of the mare’s more foal-like habits for the sake of her pride, it was these things that balanced out the brash, outgoing mare now curled against his chest with both hooves wrapped around his neck and giggling like a filly expectantly awaiting the arrival of the mythical present pony that came on Hearth’s Warming Eve. “So, I’ve been meaning to ask... are you gonna let me drink tonight? Or do are you gonna make a cute mare like me stay sober?”

“The better question is if you’ll be able to behave yourself. I’d really rather not have a repeat of our last tavern visit,” Thunderlane replied, snorting with amusement as Cloudchaser drew away to have herself a good pout.

“You know I know my limits now. Sheesh, try to do your coltfriend in public a time or two, and you never hear the end of it...” Cloudchaser muttered, folding her hooves across her chest and sniffing indignantly. Indifference became hard to maintain as Thunderlane gently pressed his lips to the nape of the mare’s neck, and she readily made way for his hooves as they slid around her waist.

“Remember how I heard that Applejack can spot a lie?” The mare nodded, snuggling a little closer. “It wouldn’t be very honest of us to behave perfectly, now would it?”

“Wait, so you mean...” Cloudchaser started, nearly squealing with excitement as she whirled to face Thunderlane. A mischievous grin that demanded immediate kissing confirmed her suspicions far before the words actually came out, but the moment was anything but tender as the mare started laughing even before she pulled away. “I knew I loved you for a reason. Let’s get... oh, right... hurry up, Flitter! I’m thirsty! I can almost taste the cider... This is going to be the best night ever!”

“O-ok, I’m almost done!” the mare called out. Righting himself, Thunderlane watched with cultured affection as Cloudchaser danced around the room, singing about the wonders of ethanol and already acting quite inebriated.

“Hey, Cloudchaser? I’m all for you letting loose a little, but if we could try to keep the innuendo to a minimum, that’d be...”

“Yeah, yeah, no orgies,” the mare interjected, idly waving a hoof and stopping cold a few seconds later as she realized that was exactly the kind of statement Thunderlane was seeking to forestall. “My bad. I’ll tone it down... but just a little! An old-fashioned mare like Applejack has got to be fun to tease.”

“You do realize the whole point of this is to build bridges, not torch the fields, right?” Thunderlane reminded the mare with an annoying bout of seriousness. “If Rumble really has his heart set on Applebloom, then someday these ponies are going to be family. I’m all for having a little fun with them, but try not to overdo it, ok?”

“Geez, Thunderlane, give me a little more credit...” Cloudchaser muttered, sullenly turning away. “I’m not that oblivious... unlike you.” Two years had not a perfect stallion made, though his fillyfriend’s reaction made it quite clear to him what he’d missed, and Cloudchaser reluctantly made eye contact as Thunderlane presented himself in honest apology for his oversight.

“I’m sorry, Cloudchaser. I wasn’t being fair, and forgive me for being too dense to realize the obvious; you’re nervous, aren’t you?”

“Took you long enough...” she murmured, letting slip a sigh as she again allowed herself to be held, letting go of her frustrations slowly as she brought a hoof to the stallion’s mane and tussled the silken hair. “I’ll be good. Wild as I can be without totally wrecking the place,” she added, laughing softly, “but I wouldn’t want to ruin anything for Rumble. He’s a good little bro...”

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine, Cloudchaser,” Thunderlane assured her, strengthening his hold and smiling as the mare’s shoulders relaxed, soothed by his vote of confidence.

“I’m ready!” At the sound of the fierce declaration brimming with confidence and still somehow managing to be overtly feminine, all eyes turned towards Flitter as she sauntered out of the bathroom with her head held high. “Sorry that took so long. I had this one strand of hair that just wouldn’t go where it was supposed to, but don’t worry, I finally got it to listen with a little love and a lot of brushing!”

“I’m going to need to pick up more of that mousse you use, aren’t I?”

“...well, yeah. I did kind of use the rest of it.”

“What? There was, like, half the bottle left last time I looked!”

“I couldn’t possibly meet Applebloom’s family with a messy mane! I just had to make sure it was perfect... and it’s not my fault it was being stubborn!”

“Your mane isn’t the only one being stubborn...” Cloudchaser muttered as Flitter took her place alongside Thunderlane. “Maybe you should try talking to that frilly unicorn with the purple mane. She’s probably been held hostage by her mane, too.”

“Hmph! You’re just jealous,” Flitter replied, much too dignified to stoop to her sister’s level and stick her tongue out in turn.

“Girls, you’re both pretty. No need to fight over me.” Somehow, sticking himself in the spotlight always resulted in a proverbial barrage of tomatoes, but it did serve to unify the bickering siblings more often than not, so Thunderlane counted himself quite the clever stallion as both sisters gave him the stare.

“Yeah, I think we can both agree that’s not what’s going on, right, sis?” Cloudchaser said in a droll tone, shooting the prissy mare a wink.

“Right! Now then, let’s go see Applebloom! I bet her and Rumble are being adorable again...” Flitter tittered, her previous agitation forgotten as the trio laughed and chatted, making their way through town and towards the farm. While both mares became distracted by this leaf, that apple, and the other passing attraction, the stallion in between found himself more taken by his companions than the wonders of an orchard at dusk. It hadn’t been instantaneous by any means, but time, experiences both wondrous and painful, and the memories that came with them had crafted within his heart an equal appreciation for each mare, their quirks, faults, and differences. A warmth akin to nostalgia but slightly more amorous well within his chest as his rumination drew to a close, and Cloudchaser tore her gluttonous eyes from the fruit laden branches in time to notice.

“Awww, look who’s getting all sappy,” she whispered, her voice pleasantly soft. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t make you any less awesome. Not unless you do it all the time, anyways.”

“Thanks, that’s very comforting, Cloudchaser,” Thunderlane chuckled, nodding once. “I hope you cooked up some fun in that dastardly mind of yours, because here... we... go.”

“Huh? What’re you...” Cloudchaser started, her question being answered as a cordial voice with a notable drawl welcome the trio to the family.

“Howdy, everypony! Welcome t’ Sweet Apple Acres,” Applejack called out, beckoning her stallion to follow as she trotted over to meet them halfway. “Ah’m Applejack, as you may have heard, an’ this is mah husband, Silver Moonshine - best brewer in Ponyville.”

“Sweet talkin’ already, sweetheart?” Silver laughed quietly, shaking his head. “I still have a ways to go before I measure up to my father, but I do my best. In fact, I think I recognize you three from the tavern...” Flitter looked at Cloudchaser, Cloudchaser smirked and looked at Thunderlane, and Thunderlane looked like he could use a drink, judging by the way he slapped a hoof over his eyes. “Thunderlane, you and your mares have a lot farther to go before you top some of the things I witnessed back in Manehatten. Ah, nostalgia...”

“Ah don’t think ah’ve heard that one, but ah reckon it ain’t proper table talk,” Applejack laughed, mostly to keep herself from trying to imagine what was worse than attempted public copulation, aside from successful public... copulation. “Anyways...” Applejack began, shuddering a little, “why don’t y’all introduce yerselves?”

“Well, it seems like you both know about me already, but I’m Thunderlane,” the dark coated stallion said with a grin. “These two lovely mares are my fillyfriends, Cloudchaser and her sister, Flitter.” Having been warned that such a different lifestyle may be frowned upon by such a traditional family, the trio tensed and readied themselves to make a defense, but the only thing they shared a moment later was abject confusion as Applejack hurled not accusation nor sneered in distaste, but actually leaned against Silver for support as she was taken by a fit of laughter.

“Ah knew you were datin’ two mares, but sisters? Yer bravery is playin’ on the teeter totter with insanity, Thunderlane!” Applejack declared, wiping moisture from her eyes. “In all honesty, ah’m not sure which would be harder t’ make work, strangers or siblings, as both would come with a whole slew o’ problems, ah’m sure. Y’all seem happy enough t’ me, an’ ah’ll tell ya right now, this little triangle strikes me as right strange, but ah only have one question for ya, Thunderlane; Do you love these mares? Or are ya just indecisive?”

“I can appreciate your honesty, Applejack,” Thunderlane replied without hesitation. “You’re right. There were a lot of problems in the beginning, and there were times when I was afraid I’d never find a way to make it work, but... these two mares mean the world to me. We give, we take, we fight, we come back together, but if there is one thing that I can stake my name to, it’s my love for them, and theirs for me.” The Element of Honesty looked from face to face, smiling as the stallion’s confident words were back by a sense of unity she couldn’t quite understand, but found comforting and praiseworthy all the same.

Applebloom, you were right about them. It still seems a bit funny t’ me, but they seem like good folk. “What can ah possibly say t’ that? Welcome t’ Sweet Apple Acres, you three. Yer as welcome as any member o’ the family. Well, most of ‘em,” Applejack followed up with a smirk. “Don’t worry, y’all will see what I’m talkin’ about pretty quick once we get inside. Come on, everypony! Time fer the Apple family t’ show a little old fashioned hospitality: wholesome chow, good company, and plenty o’ drink t’ keep things lively!”

“Ah yeah! Time to get my party on!” Cloudchaser exclaimed, leaping into the air as she threw up both hooves in eager anticipation of inebriation.

“Mah brother an’ his wife are dyin’ t’ meet you three, so y’all go on ahead an make yerselves at home, now. Ah have a few things ah need t’ speak t’ Silver about.” Cloudchaser needed no second bidding, the mare’s energy output set to max as a pleasant deterrent from the anxiety of needing to impress them all for Rumble’s sake, though the warm welcome they’d received was far beyond what the trio was expecting, slicing away a generous portion of her nervousness and feeding it to good will who summarily devoured the offering. The mare really couldn’t have known better than to abuse the power of the “P” word, and as Applejack began to propose a few limitations on how much alcohol was to be served so as to keep licentious advances and table top dancing to a minimum, a familiar voice rang out from within a nearby tree, startling them both.

“Did somepony say ‘party?!?’”

“Gah! Pinkie?” Applejack shouted, jumping a full pony length back as the bubbly mare popped her head out of a most accommodating red delicious tree, giggling profusely for a moment before disappearing from sight. In a matter of seconds, she reappeared beside her pregnant friend with her prized party creation kit loaded and ready. “How you manage t’ get a cannon into and out of a tree without makin’ a sound is just plain frightenin’, Pinkie,” Applejack muttered, eyeing the infamous party cannon with a wary eye.

“Well, duh!” Pinkie chortled, prancing around the simple-minded mare. “I obviously hid it there this afternoon because I saw everypony rush towards Sweet Apple Acres earlier this morning, and when a group of ponies go rushing off it’s ‘cause there’s either a party or trouble. Well, I didn’t hear any explosions, so I just knew there had to be a party tonight! Oh, and you must have forgotten my invitation, but that’s ok because I’m here now!”

“Ah can see why you’d think that, ah guess, but there’s no party, Pinkie.” With her hoof poised over the automatic fun button of a loaded, possibly incendiary device, the excitement inherent in the mare’s every action fled as her hopes were left unfulfilled.

“But... but... no party?”

“Nope, just dinner,” Applejack repeated with a rueful smile. Her heart went out to the mare who hadn’t been her usual excitable self as of late, a feeling compounded by the most peculiar accusation that followed and the tinge of desperation it contained.

“I... you wilted my party cannon!” Pinkie cried, cradling her limp cannon in her hooves. Setting aside the impossibility of a cannon, generally accepted to be a solid object, spontaneously melting, Applejack took one look at the visibly drooping barrel before caving for the sake of her own sanity.

“All right, all right! Ah guess a few streamers couldn’t hurt...”

“Woohoo!” Levitating by the magic of sugar, and quite possibly frightening attunement with the long-lost Element of Lunacy, Pinkie Pie coaxed new life into her party cannon and dashed inside, causing an immediate lull in the conversation as she slammed her weapon of choice onto the ground, raised a hoof, and declared party time a go. “Hey, anypony know what time it is?” Flitter immediately glanced at a clock and was about to answer before Pinkie Pie dropped her voice and octave and responded in turn, shifting back and forth. “Oh, I do, pick me! Pick me! Okie doki lokie! Pinkie Pie, I choose you! Well...” she continued with a gleam in her eye, throwing back her head and sharing her elation with a bang. “It’s half past party time!”

There followed a quiet noise, like the click of flipping a light switch on and off, and then another sound, like the blast like many fireworks erupting in harmony as Pinkie Pie’s admittedly overstuffed cannon sent confetti, balloons, and streamers bursting from every exit, ripping the front door from its hinges and flooding the air with a spectacular array of color. Outside, Applejack sat down hard and paid the streamer draped across her nose little attention as the fallacy of attempting to comprehend Pinkie Pie once again challenged her logical mind, though it was watching Gummy fall with a thud a few feet away, lay dazed for a moment, and then waddle off like nothing happened that really tipped the scales.

“She really outdid herself this time,” Silver commented cheerfully, watching as streamers drifted on the wind and delicately fell to the ground. “You and your friends really need to throw more parties. If she waits this long again, there probably won’t even be a house next time.” The scholarly nature of her husband’s musings was lost on Applejack as she gaped at the scene, petrified in utter disbelief, and at her silence, Silver turned and stumbled upon one last realization before Pinkie, satisfied with a house well partied, pranced out amidst much happy humming. “I really need to figure out how to make a brew for pregnant mares.”

“No, ya need t’ find some sedatives t’ keep Ponyville intact. Pinkie, how is what you just did even possible?!?” Applejack exclaimed, standing upright. “You just dang near blew mah house t’ pieces!”

“How? Huh, I never really thought about putting it into words...” Pinkie murmured, her eyes narrowing in deep concentration. “Ok! Let’s start with the fiddlesticks!” Pinkie quipped, beginning to scratch some figures Applejack didn’t even recognize into the dirt; they certainly weren’t numbers, and one of them had a face.

“Ya mean ‘physics? An’ what is...”

“Yeah yeah, fizzicks, right! Now, pay attention! If “smile” represents the number of objects I want to fire, while ‘pie’ represents the speed at which I want the tables to be set, then we’d have to factor in...” Her voice seemed to accelerate with the quantity of hieroglyphics and digits that soon became scrawled into the ground, and just when Applejack thought it to be over, the mare reached wide and drew a huge division line and began anew beneath.

“Enough! No more o’ yer fancy mathematics! Ah’m sorry ah asked!” Applejack wailed, clutching her head with both hooves.

“Oki doki lokie!” Pinkie agreed with oblivious nonchalance. “Enjoy the party! I’m off to find my party cannon! Hey! Wait up, Gummy!” Quickly catching up to her toothless companion, Pinkie disappeared amongst the trees while Winona came dashing over with her tail between her legs, shaking and needing a little love to calm down after having woken airborne upon a bed of balloons.

“Yeah, ah feel about the same,” Applejack murmured as her faithful pup whined about her foray into flight and the rather unpleasant landing that followed. “Don’t worry none, Winona. Ah think that’s gonna be the worst of it... Come on, Silver. Let’s head back inside and assess the damage...”

“Flitter, you can come out now. That psychotic mare with the cannon is gone...” Unfortunately, it was going to take a little bit more than Thunderlane’s dulcet tones to lure a very frightened Flitter out from the spacious closet she had commandeered upon the opening of hostilities, and she was quite content to spend the next hour fussing over the confetti in her mane and, to a lesser extent, her mouth.

“Oh, let her sulk and come have fun, Thunderlane,” Cloudchaser urged, taking a moment to cease racing around the room and bucking every balloon that came within hoof range. “She’ll be fine in a few minutes.”

“I will not!” Flitter shouted back, her voice muffled and on the verge of tears. “Do you have any idea how long I spent on my mane? And now it’s got confetti all in it, and... and...” Cracking open the door, Thunderlane took one look at the mare’s tear-streaked face and knew that Cloudchaser’s invitation to liven things up would have to wait, and with a few soft words, the stallion gently closed the door behind him and was about to continue his whispered encouragement when a trio of knocks and a sensuous voice from outside caused a temporary lull in the sniffles.

“While I can appreciate such a romantic nature, I must warn you that you are currently occupying one of the few places in the house that is not sound-proofed. By all means, continue, but do exercise a little restraint?” Thunderlane and Flitter both stared blankly at the door for a moment before turning back to each other and laughing quietly.

“Now, Crimson, that ain’t fair t’ suspect that o’ the newcomers,” another voice followed up with a deep baritone chuckle. “What’d ah tell you about bein’ good tonight, anyhow? Let’s leave ‘em be. Besides, now that everypony is here, we’d best get Applebloom. Oh, an’ welcome t’ Sweet Apple Acres, you two.” Having been summoned by the invasion of many colors and a choking amount of confetti, Big Macintosh and Crimson paused to get acquainted with Cloudchaser, and soon the two mares were swapping stories that couldn’t well be mentioned within the presence of younger ponies. Big Macintosh simply shrugged in acceptance, at least until Applejack and Silver came in, and Crimson dutifully shifted subjects as her sister-in-law trotted over.

“So, Braeburn ain’t talkin’ everypony’s ears off yet, huh? That’s right surprisin’... Oh, Big Mac, you ain’t seen Granny Smith anyplace, ‘ave ya?”

“Nnnope.”

“Ponyfeathers. Oh well, she’ll show up when she’s good an’ ready. Applebloom still upstairs?”

“Eeyup. Ah was just on mah way t’ go get her.”

“Ok, ah’ll try to find Granny Smith and Braeburn so we can get these ponies fed. Clean up can wait until later, ah reckon.”

“Eeyup!” Breaking away from a most pleasant discussion on the wonders of a stallion flooded with good brew, Crimson excused herself and followed Big Macintosh towards Applebloom’s room, staying his hoof as he reached for the door and garnering a questioning look from the stallion.

“Just trust me,” Crimson whispered, garnering a knowing grin. Taking great pains to make as little noise as possible, the mare pressed the handle and gently nudged the door open, finding exactly what she had expected. Hoof in hoof, the pair lay sleeping soundly, and both ponies crept over to the bed, simultaneously appreciating the tender moment of innocence and feeling guilty that they would have to end it. “That right there is what you taught me,” Crimson murmured, pressing closer to her tower of refuge.

“Eeyup...” Stilled by the serenity, the couple simply sat in silent remembrance for a time before duty compelled Big Mac to reach out and stir Applebloom into wakefulness. Blinking sleepily, the filly stared back at Big Mac through bleary eyes for a few seconds as the lights slowly came on. “Hungry, Applebloom?”

“Nnngh... brother, ah think ah could eat the orchard, the way ah’m feelin’,” Applebloom replied, yawning fitfully and realizing that she was holding hooves in full view of another, and her sibling at that. Rumble came to as his hooves were hastily abandoned, but waking to Applebloom’s blushing face and hesitant glances wasn’t half bad, either. “...it’s dinner time, ah think.”

“Uh huh,” Rumble mumbled, glancing over at their two pony audience. “More family?”

“Oh, that’s just mah brother an’ ‘is kinky wife,” Applebloom replied, dismissing the subject with a wave of her hoof before sliding off the bed and landing in a heap. Dang, just how deep a sleep was ah in? Ah feel like it’s been years since ah last woke up... Applebloom glanced over at her clock and froze. It’s already been an hour? But ah just closed mah eyes! There ain’t no way ah got so comfortable that ah... Rumble poked his head over the edge and grinned down at the groggy filly, himself entirely awake and ready to play. That colt cheats, ah swear. “Lemme guess, you feel fine?”

“Uh huh!”

“An’ now yer all rarin’ t’ go.”

“Uh huh.”

“No chance ah can just lay here fer another hour?”

“Nuh uh!”

“Slavedriver...” Applebloom chuckled, reaching up suddenly and yanking the colt’s forelegs, granting her a little more time to rest as they both lay laughing on the floor. Crimson could hardly contain herself from commenting, but she’d given her word that she’d behave. Big Macintosh acknowledged her efforts to bind her sensuous tongue and very quickly gave it a break, but wasn’t quite fast enough to escape being caught. “Brother, ah told you this mornin’ there’d be none of that!”

“Eeyup. Sorry, Applebloom.”

“Ah bet Thunderlane ain’t down there gettin’ all kissy with ‘is mares, now is he?”

“Actually, he may very well be up to more, but he’s doing a tremendous job at keeping quiet,” Crimson teased, stifling her laughter with a hoof over her mouth. “Sorry, last one! Thunderlane is in the closet with Flitter, but she looked pretty upset.”

“No need to worry, Applebloom,” Rumble asserted as the group began heading downstairs. “I’m sure Thunderlane is just trying to cheer her up. She can be a little high-maintenance sometimes.” Reassured and feeling the effects of the best nap she’d ever had, Applebloom felt her spirits soar as she cantered into a world of laughter, balloons, and... found her cousin laying down the moves on a taken mare.

“Dear Celestia, is he really...” Bowing before Cloudchaser in absolute awe with every intent to woo?

“Might I ask your name, lovely lady?” Yes. Yes he was. Cloudchaser didn’t need Big Mac’s encouraging nod or the winking eye of the devious mare beside him to spur her on as she dropped into an aggressive stance as if to pounce and laid down a few moves of her own. Braeburn wasn’t ready.

“Are you kidding? A fine stallion like yourself? You can call me anything you want, cutie,” Cloudchaser shot back, brushing against his cheek and flicking her tail in a most provocative manner as she toured her prey, walking a slow circle around the bewildered stallion. I wonder if I’m taking this too far? Crimson’s laughing, Big Mac is... immovable, which seems to be normal. And hey, Applebloom is face-hoofing like she always does, so I’m right on track! “With such toned physique, you must get a lot of attention back home.”

“Actually, uh... miss? I don’t really have many dealings with mares...”

“Really? Well, I’m curious to know what they’re missing. Those apples look delicious... oh, I could just eat you up.” Applejack had returned from her unsuccessful search in time to witness a most stunning scene unfold; Braeburn was actually struck speechless. So unaccustomed to dealing with mares in anything other than passing that such openly sensual treatment boggled his mind in a most pleasant manner, but it soon became apparent to Cloudchaser and everypony else exactly why they’re admittedly fair cousin remained single. He was bucking clueless.

“I wouldn’t recommend that. In addition to bein’ right painful for me, and I know such a nice little lady wouldn’t dream o’ hurtin’ anypony, I imagine I’d taste right awful! Ponies don’t eat other critters.”

“Uh... I meant...”

“Oh, I get it! You must be hungry! Even a pretty thing like you has to eat, I wager. I don’t know a single pony that doesn’t! In fact, back in Appleoosa there’s this one mare...” Cloudchaser heaved a defeated sigh and decided to bide her time for another opportunity to try again. Patiently she waited for the end of the story, something which was bound to take quite some time, and the group filtered in and took their seats, eager to see who would emerge triumphant; the numbskull or the troll.

Meanwhile, in the relative comfort of a spacious hall closet, Thunderlane patiently waited for the tides to dry, listening as Flitter fretted about this and that, but after an indeterminate amount of time, Thunderlane knew they needed to be going lest suspicions arise that comfort had exceeded acceptable boundaries. As the mare continued stroking her mane in a fruitless attempt to preserve its shape while removing the colorful dander, she graciously accepted an offered hoof to help, relaxing a little as Thunderlane began stroking her mane. A learned stallion, he looked at the mare’s composure, noted that it was made of glass, and promptly introduced it to a sizable rock hurtling at high speeds. With a sudden burst of vigor, a second hoof joined in, and it was soon raining confetti as he utterly destroyed any semblance of style the quiet mare may have once had.

Phase one is done, now for part two.

“I... you... m-my mane...” Flitter stammered, her voice wavering as a fresh flood readied to spill. Thunderlane had been entirely expecting this, and moving swiftly but with great care, he slid one hoof behind her neck and another upon her cheek, soothing the mare with his confident, amorous gaze.

“You still look beautiful to me, Flitter.” Petty worry and minor frustration fled in the face of the rush of passion that established its tyrannical totalitarian regime within the simple mare’s heart as Thunderlane pulled her into a single deep, heartfelt kiss. “Just one” was not sufficient for the horrors endured, however, and thus Thunderlane accepted the mare’s enthusiastic reciprocation while taking comfort in the fact that Flitter would never dare to escalate things in such a setting. At least, not without Cloudchaser to urge her on, which became a definite possibility as Thunderlane lay back to enjoy a little relaxation and found his head firmly nestled in somepony’s lap.

“What the...” he murmured, pulling away from Flitter a moment. “Cloudchaser, how’d you get in...” It wasn’t Cloudchaser. It wasn’t even a pony he could find marginally attractive, which was likely better for him in the long run, but there was something absolutely horrifying to both himself and Flitter to realized that some, if not all, of their passionate display was witnessed by the resident matriarch, currently grinning down at the stallion without a care in the world.

“Eh, what’s that nonsense yer spoutin’? I ain’t chased clouds fer years!”

Cloudchaser was beginning to wear down, but two shouts, one of a mare and one of a stallion, shook the house to the foundations as Thunderlane and Flitter burst from the closet, cheeks aflame and wings raised. While quite the pleasant break from Braeburn’s long-winded story, Cloudchaser took one look at Flitter’s disastrous mane and adopted a dire look of disapproval that Thunderlane couldn’t well misconstrue before stomping over and regarding the stallion with her best pouty face.

“Oh, please tell me this ain’t real...” Rumble whispered, unable to tear his gaze away as Thunderlane strategically positioned himself behind the mare so as to hide the glaringly obvious and quite incriminating evidence of his assumed debauchery.

Wings out, the mare’s mane looks like it was put through a tornado, an’... poor Rumble. “It ain’t so bad, Rumble. Ah’ve caught mah brother in worse...” Applebloom offered as Braeburn grew leery of the stallion currently engaged in a heated, though hushed, conversation with Thunderlane.

“You are so busted, Thunderlane! I can’t believe you didn’t invite me!” Cloudchaser whined, herself considering a little affection to be a much better use of her time than continuing to engage Braeburn in "conversation."

“We weren’t doing anything!” Pouting gave way to half-lidded stare, and Thunderlane sighed before rewording his denial a little more accurately. “Ok, well, we were making out, but still! That’s well within the rules.”

“You could have at least offered. While you and Flitter were having some fun time, I was out here dealing with...”

“Pardon me, miss, but is that feller givin’ you trouble?” Braeburn asked, trotting over and standing stalwart beside the mare. “It ain’t proper to hurt a girl’s feelings. Now, I don’t know who ya are or what you were doin’ in the closet, but ah think it’s best if you just leave now.” Cloudchaser smiled. Thunderlane knew of the smile, and cringed, for it was no ordinary grin, but a subtle reminder that breaches in triangular etiquette would not go unpunished.

“Braeburn, this is Thunderlane... my coltfriend.”

“Wait... you mean...” Braeburn stammered in righteous indignation. “You mean t’ tell me that this lowlife gettin’ frisky in my old family home with some other mare is your coltfriend? You aren’t even deserving t’ be called by name, cheatin’ on such a beautiful an’ charming pegasus. Well, what’ve you got t’ say fer yerself?”

“Um, sis? What’s going on?” Flitter asked, her bafflement soaring to new heights as Cloudchaser leapt into the air in gleeful anticipation as Braeburn’s expression shifted from disdainful to downright horrified.

“You’re her sister? You’re gettin’ pervy with Cloudchaser’s sister? Now, I’m not the violent sort, but I’m not going to stand for this kind o’ ill-mannered treatment. Prepare for fisticuffs!” The simple stallion’s belief that his indignation could grow no further was falsified as the living room erupted into laughter. “What in tarnation is wrong with y’all? You should be takin’ pity on the poor mare, not actin’ like it’s all some kind o’ joke!”

“Cousin, there’s somethin’ ah need... need t’ tell ya!” Applejack chortled, trotting over and guiding Braeburn’s eyes over to where Cloudchaser was currently making up with Thunderlane with some playful nuzzles, a heaping load of jibes, and a good smooch. “Cloudchaser an’ Flitter are both datin’ Thunderlane. Sorry, sugarcube, they’re both quite taken.”

“Both? But... I don’t understand that one bit, cousin,” Braeburn said, shaking his head.

“Oh, times have changed, but it used to be more common, doncha know!” Time as a whole stopped as Granny Smith casually stepped out of the closet, looking around at a room full of brain-dead ponies whose minds were all being filled with varying levels of harrowing assumptions loosely supported by two facts: Thunderlane and Flitter were doing something in the closet, and Granny Smith had just walked out. Nothing good came to mind. “No use standin’ around lookin’ like statues! Let’s get to eatin’! Oh! Love the decorations, Applebloom!” Chuckling as she swiped at a nearby balloon, the mare proceeded into the kitchen while Crimson, tormented at not being able to join the fun, suffered a lapse of self-control and fell back upon old habits.

“So, Thunderlane, did you find the closet to be enjoyable?” Crimson tittered, coyly covering her muzzle with a hoof while adopting a leer Applejack still had trouble tolerating. “I must say that you chose the proper one for such... activities: plenty of space to move around. Why, we discovered that just this morning, didn’t we, dear?”

“...eeyup,” Big Mac said quietly, shifting uncomfortably as Applejack’s eye began to twitch and Applebloom firmly planted her face to the floor, letting out a muffled sob. “Oh, come on, Applejack. Applebloom was at school an’ Crimson was bein’ real sweet.” Eeyup. She’s mad. Ain’t no goin’ back now. “Don’t act like you an’ Silver ain’t done anythin’ strange.”

“What ah do with Silver is mah own business, not that of everypony else! Besides, ain’t nothin’ wrong with a little experimentation...”

“Sis, really? Ah just woke up an’ yer already talkin’ bout that sort o’ thing? Ah swear, it’s like the only thing on everyponies mind today!” Bombarded by loosely veiled sensuality from all directions, Applebloom took it upon herself to preserve her integrity and fled the room, tearing out the front door and leaving everypony slightly ashamed of themselves as the distraught filly shook her hoof at the evening sky. “Discord, you cursed mah house with yer dirty shenanigans, an’ ah swear t’ Celestia an’ Luna both that the next time ah see yer twisted face, yer gonna meet the business end o’ mah mallet!”

“She’s right, brother,” Applejack conceded, shaking her head at breaching her own rules. “I’ll go calm her down so we can sit down fer supper. Goodness knows we could use our mouths for somethin’ other than talkin’.” In all fairness, it was a laudable step in the right direction that Crimson contained her giggles until Applejack had left, and from inside the kitchen Granny Smith chuckled quietly to herself about the excitement of the youngsters gathered under her roof while she went about setting the table.

“Oh, it might be painful now, but someday, they’ll all look back on this an’ smile. Even our little Applebloom...” she murmured, carefully setting the table and laying out the spread. “A little blushin’ ain’t ever hurt nopony. Does ‘em good t’ get all riled up. Wish I could remember why I went in that closet, though. Made fer a good nap, but it just ain’t as refreshin’ as my rocker.” Having had her moment of sentimentality, the mare continued her work while rabbit trails and tangents led her mind astray as the elderly are prone to do, and after a five minute discussion with the salad bowl, she realized dinner was ready and called everypony in, welcoming the guests and getting acquainted while Applejack convinced Applebloom with much commiseration to follow her back inside, assuring her that with everypony eating, things were liable to at least stay on the fringe of tolerable. Hopefully.

One by one they all filed in, with the exception of Braeburn who was taking a little bit longer than expected to recover from having his mind stretched a million directions at once, and the meal started with gusto. Applebloom wasn’t feeling particularly ravenous on account of the likelihood of having to flee, an uncomfortable activity when filled to the brim with farm fare, and Rumble noticed the meager portion she allotted to herself with a rueful grin. Finishing a mouthful of vegetable casserole with the most amazing crumble top he’d ever had, the young colt wracked his brains to find a way to help Applebloom to see that, all things considered, the even really wasn’t going that poorly.

We didn’t eat lunch today, so I know she has to be hungry, so why isn’t she eating? Maybe she just needs a little nudge. Applebloom blinked out of a daze as a corn muffin held aloft by a gray hoof appeared before her muzzle. “...muffin?” Rumble offered quietly, peeking around the simple baked good and grinning as he coaxed a reluctant smile out of the filly.

“Would ya believe me if ah said ah wasn’t hungry?” Applebloom murmured half-heartedly, closing her eyes as she became unable to stop her smile from growing a little more.

“Nuh uh...”

“Ah guess... ah’m gonna have t’ eat it, aren’t ah?”

“Uh huh.”

“Ah don’t feel like movin’, though...” What’s that look he’s givin’ me? Dang near looks like he’s just watched me shower or somethin’, the way he’s blushin’. Ah hope his mind ain’t been tainted by all the... the... A warm, fresh from the oven muffin gently pressed against Applebloom’s lips, forbidding further speech and negating any worries Applebloom may have had that Rumble would act as anything less than the charming buffoon that he was, and for just a moment, Applebloom had an isolated moment of precious affection as she took a tentative bite, her hoof folding over Rumble’s for just a moment as she accepted the gift and all the overpowering sentiment wafting out with the steam.

"Ah, look at those rosy cheeks. Isn’t that precious?” Granny Smith quipped, looking up from her soup with a grand smile.

Sorry, Granny Smith. Rumble is bein’ way too sweet fer anythin’ you say t’ make me upset. Were the filly a little older and a little wiser, she would have known never to underestimate the power senility.

“Our little Apple is finally bloomin'! Now, Rumble, we already have one grand baby on the way, so no need to rush, alright?" Large though the table was, it quivered under the tumultuous force of Applebloom’s headbutt, the physical pain not even registering as social trauma promised to only dig Applebloom deeper.

"G-Granny Smith!” Applejack sputtered, horrified at the matriarch’s coarse humor and frantically begging Applebloom’s patience as the filly contented herself to continue her assessment of the table as a pillow. “Ah can't believe you'd..." she started, before Rumble, in all his well-intentioned sweetness, simply nodded his understanding and agreed to her more than fair terms.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Now's not the time fer manners!” Applebloom cried, yanking her head upright and waving her hooves frantically in the air.

“Are you ok? That looks kinda...” Rumble started, pointing towards the redness around her forehead and flinching as Applebloom knocked his advancing hoof away.

“Ah don’t care what mah face looks like! She's talkin' bout us makin'... rollin'..." No longer able to tell if the deep crimson flushing her face was from her attempt at using her head in place of a mallet or the topic at hoof, and slightly hurt that his honest attempt at comfort had been spurned, Rumble’s mind stalled and he murmured the only thing he could think of.

"But... I’d like to have kids someday, I think..."

“Dear Celestia, ah’m not even ready t’ think ‘bout that!”

"Eeyup,” Big Mac chimed in, making no effort to hide his grin and savoring Crimson’s stifled laughter as Applejack looked about ready to blow a fuse.

"Brother, don't go encouragin' 'em! Fer cryin' out loud, they're..." Applejack started, desperate to lasso the ever elusive commodity known as rationality and cling to it for dear life, but unfortunately for her, Braeburn had sufficiently recovered and made his entrance, pointedly ignoring Cloudchaser though otherwise acting none the worse for the ware.

"The cutest little couple I ever did see!” Braeburn declared, piping up and shifting all eyes to him. Rumble sighed and turned back to Applebloom, all too aware of how one pony could reduce her to muffled sobs as he placed a sympathetic hoof on her back as a silent way of agreeing that things weren’t going to get any better. Applejack seemed similarly affected, the mare immediately covering her face as the ecstatic stallion looked up from his seat directly across from her at the head of the table near Granny Smith.

“Just look at those rosy cheeks! Reminds me of this one couple that recently wed. We’ve had plenty o’ folks gettin’ married, let me tell you, but there was one in particular that are just the sweetest little love birds in Appleoosa!"

"Braeburn..." Applejack’s interjection was heard, filtered, ignored, and discarded with industrial efficiency while Braeburn continued his story.

"They met at the Salt Block, an’ it was the love at first sight. Not two months later they walked right into the mayor’s office, lookin’ to be married. He said yes, o’ course, and in just two short weeks, they..."

"Braeburn!"

"Cousin Applejack, I can tell you’re gettin’ excited," Braeburn quipped gleefully, the mare’s best mothering glare having no effect as he continued, “but you’re just goin’ to have t’ listen to the whole story! It ain’t right t’ skip around, you’ll miss the details! Anyways, the whole of Appleoosa turned out to wish them well, and let me tell you, we had the best darn shindig that ever was pranced. Just last week the doctor confirmed we’re gonna have another foal in Appleoo...”

"Braeburn!!!" Applejack bellowed, slamming a hoof down on the table. Bewildered, clueless, and slightly disappointed that his innocent excitement had been disregarded by his uptight cousin, he turned to Applejack with an exasperated sigh and a hurt expression.

"Cous, we talked about yer manners earlier, remember? Now, what’s so important that you need t’ be interruptin’ me?"

"They're only twelve! They don't need to be hearing about Appleoosa's population growth!" Braeburn fell silent, appearing to be deep in thought. Finally, he’s starting to get it. Ah swear, ah love mah family, but that don’t mean they don’t rub me the wrong way. Poor Applebloom... Sure enough, the filly was denying everypony the right to catch even the slightest glimpse of her muzzle, a hoof firmly stationed at either side. At least Braeburn will behave fer a little while. He normally stays calm after ah...

"Did I mention she conceived right under Bloomberg?" This time, it was Applebloom’s turn to feel sorry for Applejack. A quick peek showed that, as expected, Applejack’s good graces were now shattered fragments acting as unconventional soup crackers while her determination to keep conversation clean melted down to a nice dressing for her salad. Seeing her silence as the go ahead to detail his story further, Braeburn brightened once more and gave a short whoop, eager to share all the wonders of a town he had helped start from scratch. "That's right! Walked in to check on the orchard one day and wouldn’t you know it, there they were, havin’ a right romantic time under the apple trees. Ah didn’t stay an’ watch, of course, that just ain’t proper, but I still wish ‘em the best. Isn’t that just beautiful, cous? In fact, even Bloomberg's havin' babies!"

Now ah remember why ah ain’t been back t’ visit since we delivered Bloomberg! Dang it, Applebloom, ah don’t know how t’ deal with this! “Braeburn, I... how did...”

“How? Cousin Applejack, I’m ashamed of you,” the stallion proclaimed sadly, shaking his head. “I thought you said you were pregnant. You should know how it happens then! Does Silver know about this?” he asked, turning an eye to the unicorn who was wisely keeping his mouth shut. “Now, either you got too wild or you’ve been slackin’ around the farm, given how much weight you've put on. Which is it, cous? It’s never too late t’ come clean after a lie.”

“...what?!?” He’s accusin’ me o’ infidelity, drunken revelry, and worst of all, dishonesty? Family or not, Braeburn, you are gonna get it. Silver steeled his nerves while Big Mac tensed to stave off murder as Applejack leapt onto the table and again displayed the depth of her patience by simply sweeping the stallion’s dinner from the table rather than lopping of his head or something more serious, as he well deserved.

“Applejack, your manners have...”

“Saved yer life, Braeburn, so clean the salt outta yer ears an’ listen good!” Applejack bellowed, thrusting her face close and dropping to a growl. “Let’s get somethin’ straight here, cousin. First, ah’m pregnant. Second, Silver’s the father. Third, ah’m well aware o’ how it happened! Fourth...”

“Phew! Well, that’s a relief!” Braeburn interjected, unfazed. “That saves me the trouble of havin’ to show you!” Apparently unconcerned by the deathly hush that followed, the stallion cast a languished eye towards his upended bowl of soup on the floor, lamenting such a callous waste of good food. While the gears in Applejack’s head ground together trying to formulate a response that didn’t end in copious bloodshed, Flitter, who had remained timid and quiet since the start of dinner, piped up and turned to her sister, sitting on the other side of Thunderlane, barely containing the urge to bust a lung for his little brother’s sake.

“Um, sis? I thought there were rules about that kinda thing, right?”

“Eeyup.” Emphatic, deep, and decisive, Big Mac adopted a dark scowl and answered for her, pushing Thunderlane over the edge and from his seat as the red stallion crossed his hooves over his chest and simply shook his head.

“Huh, and ponies gave us a hard time for sharing a stallion...” Cloudchaser murmured to her sister, chuckling softly and casting an apologetic eye towards Rumble who was floundering in his attempts to provide any semblance of comfort to a filly pushed well past embarrassed.

“I don’t see what everypony’s all worked up about. I’m pretty sure I’ve got a book that mentions it somewhere in Appleoosa...” Braeburn defended, confounded at everypony’s strange behavior and rising to grab himself more to eat.

“Oh, don’t pay them any attention, Braeburn. Mares always get a little funny when they’re pregnant. I would know! In fact...” and off she went, sparing nopony and painting a vivid, picturesque tale of her own experience with childbirth. Defeated and convinced damage control was a lost cause as much as talking sense into Granny Smith was likely, Applejack dismounted her makeshift soapbox and slowly sank down next to her husband, who slowly slid a hoof delicately around her shoulder while simultaneously trying to think of something to say or do to ease her mind.

“Sweeteheart, if it’s any consolation...”

“It ain’t.” Taking his cue to provide silent support and nothing more, Silver levitated his glass over and took a swig, cringing as Braeburn took his seat and spoke up once more.

“Now that that's taken care of... any chance I could get some Sweet Apple Acres cider? All this storytellin' is making me right thirsty."

“That’s a grand idea!” Granny Smith chortled, letting out a whoop. “C’mon then, Silver, time t’ break out the booze! I’ll have twenty! Braeburn, our Silver here is the best brewer in town, doncha know...” Off on another tangent, the matriarch was soon chatting up a storm with the familial dunderhead also doubling as a guest, chatting excitedly about anything and everything that came to mind. Knowing the mare had never stayed awake past a few glasses, Silver gave her a polite nod and prepared to rise when Applejack’s hoof shot out and clamped over his hind leg, a wicked grin spreading across her muzzle as she turned meet her expectant husband’s gaze. It was time for revenge.

“Ah told Applebloom ah was gonna try mah best t’ make tonight as painless as possible, an’ judgin’ by the fact she ain’t hardly looked up since Braeburn opened his big mouth means mah failure is all his fault,” she whispered, her voice almost a soft growl. “I think it’s time mah cousin’ learned a thing or two ‘bout payin’ attention. Silver, grab every dang poison joke additives ya got from the house an’ spike 'is drink with every single one.”

“I ain’t tryin’ to be a spoilsport, sweetheart, but don’t you think that’s a little much?”

“No, you’re right,” she conceded, falling silent for a moment. “It ain’t far enough. Give ‘im some dragon liquor, too.”

“Applejack, I really don’t think that’s...” Silver wasn’t a fool. Working as a bartender in Manehatten before coming to Ponyville, and subsequently observing mare and stallion alike in both sober and drunken states, he had learned to read physical cues fairly well, and the stare with which he was regarded at this point in his rebuttal read clearly as “that request was rhetorical, is not optional, and will result in physical harm should it be denied or delayed.” “One revenge cocktail, shaken, not stirred, coming right up.”

Excusing himself with a polite nod, Silver set about his mission with dutiful intent to scar for life, heading back to his pad and sifting through his materials and unable to stop a grin from forming as he found that concocting revenge was every bit as simple as common cocktails. After adding the correct poison joke extracts, he poured in no more than a teaspoon of dragon liquor, a base layer of double strength shockberry wine, and topped it off with some fire-imbued schnapps to give it an extra kick. He paused, holding the volatile substance up to his nose and taking a sniff after the crackling of the electricity had died down and was no longer sparking like fizz.

“Huh, this doesn’t smell half bad, actually.” He stared at the cup for a few more minutes, almost tempted to try it, but decided that Applejack likely wouldn’t be too please if he were to return misshapen, and carefully set it aside before loading up a small cart with more natural drinks and made his way back to the farmhouse, where he was greeted with hearty cheers from thirsty ponies. “One for you, one for you... oh, Applejack, here’s yours.” Catching his wink, Applejack pulled over her mug of non-alcoholic rainbow juice, one of her husband’s first creations made from Cloudsdale certified liquid rainbow, brought it to her lips, and watched over the rim with fiendish anticipation as Braeburn accepted his glass and took a sip.

“Well, I’ll be!” Braeburn exclaimed, draining half the glass and immediately seizing as the electricity crackled and the schnapps set his mouth ablaze. Completely unprepared, the stallion fell from his seat and stared blankly at the ceiling as he waited for the feeling to return to his numbed limbs. Notorious for producing a sensation akin to being tickled once the initial shock wore off, Braeburn doubled over with laughter, tears streaming from his eyes both from mirth and the heat comparable to eating a ghost pepper raw reddened his face. Amidst all this, the subtle tingling of the poison joke working its magic slipped by unnoticed by everypony but Braeburn.

“This is the most curious, delightful beverage I’ve ever tasted! Silver, how’d you like a job at the waterin’ hole back in Appleoosa?” Braeburn declared, his voice coming through dreadfully refined and feminine. “Oh, now that’s right strange. I sound extra fancy! Silver, you clever stallion, you put somethin’ special in my drink, didn’t you?”

“Oh, I put more than a little somethin’ in there,” he replied, entirely unconcerned with the way everypony was regarding their glasses with apprehension. Braeburn finished off the last of his treat, and was turned back around to ask for another when he noticed two things that were different, three that were awry: his hair had inexplicably grown, his alcohol tolerance seemed dreadfully lower than he remembered if his swimming vision was any indication, and something definitive to every stallion was missing.

“Golly, I’m a mare?” Braeburn murmured, examining his flowing locks and reformed figure with awe while Applejack awaited the reality of his position and the embarrassment that came with it to finally sink into the dense stallion’s cranium.

Silver, you really outdid yourself this time; This’ll teach ‘im not t’ run his mouth fer sure!

“I always knew I was pretty, but I never imagined I’d wind up turnin’ into a mare!” he, or rather she, laughed, entirely unconcerned.

“Silver, he ain’t screamin’. What’s goin’ on?” Applejack whispered out of the corner of her mouth, watching as the mare clapped her hooves together in revelrous glee.

“Well, if I had to take a guess, Braeburn is currently too drunk from the dragon liquor to fully understand his position. That, or he always wanted to be a mare, and I just gave him his greatest wish.”

“...that would explain a lot, now wouldn’t it,” Applejack groaned, turning to Applebloom who was giving her sister the best glare she could conjure. “Sorry, Bloom. I thought it would be worth it.”

“You mean t’ tell me honestly that you thought getting a spaz like Braeburn drunk an’ takin’ away ‘is parts, which breaks yer promise ah might add, struck you as a good idea? Are ya bloomin’ mad?!?” Applejack would have taken the time to explain how she had in fact not broken any promise, given that she had only agreed to make sure Silver left the extracts at home, which he did, but she was too busy staring in abject horror at the beast she’d created. With the dialect of a settler pony, the voice of an elegant noblemare, and lithe figure of a showgirl, Braeburn locked Thunderlane in his twinkling green eyes and mounted the table.

“Now, ain’t you a fine stallion...” Braeburn giggled, batting her eyelashes as she took a single dainty step forward, followed by another, and yet another as she homed in on her prey. Cloudchaser tensed as she prepared to clobber the stallion-mare-thing stalking her coltfriend, only to find that Braeburn was too drunk to account for physics, gender, decency, or pretty much anything else, while still capable of an incredible burst of speed. Thunderlane wasn’t ready. Braeburn was. Kissing happened.

“Kids these days...” Granny Smith muttered, glancing at the two with a reproving stare before hiding her grin behind a nice glass of cider as the room erupted into chaos. For common reasons, the dinner table was abandoned as ponies fled in all directions, save Crimson and Cloudchaser who were too busy roaring with laughter as the dragon liquor robbed Braeburn of all motor control including that of his tongue, reducing him to slurred babbles as the feebly scrabbled at the floor in an attempt to stand. Granny Smith waved cheerfully as the last ponies left, taking another sip of cider and letting out a contented sigh. Ain’t nopony gonna ferget somethin’ like this, not even when they’re my age. Ah, family time... ain’t nothin’ greater.

Elsewhere in Ponyville

Chapter 15: Elsewhere in Ponyville

“Kishing, kishing, kish- omph!” Pipsqueak intended for the sound that escaped his lips to come out as an exasperated sigh with his drunken look out’s overly clingy behavior, though it escaped sounding much more like a gasp as Scootaloo came to the conclusion that walking was optional, and Pipsqueak’s hoof required another of her patented mouth baths. Once again with her favorite painted lollipop firmly held within her maw by both hooves, Pipsqueak shuddered as a sensation most pleasant and baffling swept over him, and he took a few seconds to recapture his stalwart countenance as it tried to abandon ship before attempting to move again.

Quite content to just lay down in the road and continue to assess the earthy flavor of his hoof, Scootaloo giggled and nibbled a little as Pipsqueak dragged her the rest of the way, which was fortunately only a few ponylengths away. Thankful that they were close, Pipsqueak took a moment of silent appreciation for Scootaloo’s light frame, found himself quite unabashedly examining said physique for a moment before catching himself, shook his head in an ineffectual attempt to stave off the bizarre heat rising to his cheeks as was prone to happen whenever he saw Scootaloo as anything other than an adventure crazed harpy, and took a few moments to rest before knocking frantically on the door.

“Storm, are ye in there, mate? Have a heart an’ answer yer door, lad!” While the shuffling and murmur of the stallion’s voice indicated that his request had at least been acknowledged, Pipsqueak felt a pinch and chanced a peek back at Scootaloo. Like a foal content with a bottle of milk, Scootaloo simply peered back with cheery, round eyes that seemed to draw the hapless colt in, stoking the slowly growing flame within his chest. “...it’s cheatin’ t’ still be usin’ charm magic when you’re vocabulary is reduced to a single word o’ two syllables,” Pipsqueak muttered, tearing his gaze away and chaining his willpower to the rower’s bench: he wasn’t about to become the siren’s snack. At least, no more than he already was.

Greeted with a look of abject boredom and forced indifference, Storm’s mind threw up a stop sign as it attempted to reconcile the fact that Scootaloo was merrily suckling on the colt’s hoof without a shred of dignity. Pipsqueak, however, had little time before feminine wiles broke through the last of his defenses and he was swept away in the flood of withheld affection he wouldn’t directly acknowledge, and thus he feebly attempted to move his ensnared hoof, felt the filly tighten her hold along with a warning bite, blushed a little deeper, and threw himself at Storm’s mercy. “...help me?” Storm blinked once, twice, and again as he tilted his head to the side so the mind buck could drain out of his ears.

“Help?” Storm repeated, mulling over the concept. “No, I don’t think you need anymore help, Pipsqueak. You’re, uh... doing just fine.”

“I’m...you...” Pipsqueak stammered, staring in disbelief. With his mind already suffused with no small amount of the undeniable cuteness on full display, Pipsqueak knew that he was making his last stand before something snapped and he said, or did, something he would likely regret; something like talking properly or returning the filly’s kindness in a like manner. He couldn’t have that. “Are ye even usin’ yer eyes right now?!?”

"Awww, did somepony forget to turn off his swag?" Storm cooed in a condescending tone, grinning widely and wincing a little as Pipsqueak yelled back.

"This ain't no time fer games, Storm! My hoof is drownin’ in a sea o’ yer sister's slobber; doesn’t that mean anything to you?!?"

"It does,” Storm replied in a sage tone, taking a seat and leaning a little closer as a devious grin spread across his face. “It means some serious blackmail material for me. Why?"

"...yer heart is as black as yer coat, lad," Pipsqueak moped, sitting down and yielding his will, resigning himself to be driven mad by the siren’s song. While pranks and teasing were commonplace, seeing Pipsqueak look seriously dejected, not just comically overplayed dejected, moved Storm to display a little sympathy as he reached out and gave the colt a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"Nah, not black, just a little dusty,” Storm continued with wink, giving Scootaloo an experimental tug and receiving a flurry of utterly forceless blows from a wildly flailing hoof. “Ordinarily, I'd ask 'how,' but..."

"How?” Pipsqueak mirrored, perking up at the thought of having an ally to help disperse the steady build something within his mind. “I don't even need t' explain, just catch a whiff of her breath and ye'll know." Having learned the first time that “brother” was synonymous with “heartless brigand that would remove her pacifier,” Scootaloo regarded Storm’s face as she would any assailant, and the stallion couldn’t help but chuckle as his face was peppered with bops and jabs whose potency was on par with using the soft end of a feather as a shiv. Seeing her attack to be fruitless, Scootaloo opted for intimidation, and the fruity scent of wine assailed Storm’s senses while Scootaloo growled as fiercely as a drunken filly could.

"No... way...”

“It seems ye’re startin’ t’ understand me position, then,” Pipsqueak said hopefully, dragging himself a little closer and preparing for the immediate removal of the cutest leech he’d ever lay eyes upon. Alas, the colt was destined to suffer just a bit longer; after all, what older brother wouldn’t showcase his little sister in the throes of dissipation? It just wouldn’t be proper to turn such a rare occasion the blind eye.

“Mom, Dad, Dash, come quick! You gotta see this!” Before due protest could be made, Pipsqueak and Scootaloo both were scooped into Storm’s arms and swiftly deposited in the living room as everypony came running. Rainbow Dash was first on the scene, of course, though not by much as Grace pried herself away from the kitchen to take a peek with Quakehoof beside her and Hope perched merrily atop his head with a mouthful of mane.

“Something tells me this wasn’t part of her training in etiquette, mom,” Rainbow Dash chortled, snickering as she cantered over to the pair seated upon the couch.

“Indeed. She is definitely your daughter, Grace,” Quakehoof murmured, his smile accompanied by a deep, rumbling laughter as Hope viewed the pair and immediately leapt onto her father’s face, the well-known signal that she’d like to be let down. While Storm explained that Scootaloo was, by some means yet to be determined, quite inebriated, Hope galloped over to the couch, leapt up beside Scootaloo to study her technique, and then immediately dove upon Rainbow Dash’s hoof to try the same. While Grace’s motherly instincts were instantly roused by Pipsqueak’s growing distress, she saw no need to withhold her mirth, and after a good bout of giggles she approached and gave the colt a warming smile.

“It seems you’ve been given a rather perilous task, watching after my daughter,” Grace started in a soft tone, grinning as Pipsqueak nodded once and spoke in a respectful tone, just as his commodore had commanded.

“Yes, ma’am. I didn’t start this, honest! I saw she was having trouble walking, so I tried to help, and... and...”

“Kishing... fn!” Scootaloo finished, looking up at her mother with twinkling eyes. While Pipsqueak was unable, or unwilling, to acknowledge his attraction to Scootaloo, the brilliant crimson hue flushing his cheeks was rather hard to miss, and Grace took a moment to appreciate the fact that Pipsqueak had acted as commendably as anypony could hope. Certainly, there were colt’s who wouldn’t be against a little experimentation with a filly that seemed more than flirtatious, and Scootaloo grew territorial as Grace wrapped Pipsqueak in a gentle embrace.

“Thank you for taking care of my daughter. My, she’s feisty,” Flying Grace laughed, pulling away at her daughter’s assault and grinning back at Scootaloo who had released Pipsqueak’s hooves to take what was hers by right, pulling Pipsqueak into a tight, slobbery embrace.

“Mine! Can’t has!” Scootaloo declared, her head making small circular motions as she tried to focus on each face in turn, though since they all seemed to be spinning she found it rather difficult.

“Miss Grace, isn’t there something you can...” Pipsqueak started, falling silent as Scootaloo gave his shoulder a tentative taste and found it pleasing to her palate. It wasn’t that it was unpleasant, because in fact it was even more exciting than most of the adventures they’d shared over the course of a short week, and that was saying something, but that it was so startling new. Romance had never even been a consideration in the colt’s mind, but where once he had been able to keep thoughts of a serious nature from his mind, they now seemed to be the only thing he could focus on.

Is this really just the booze? Would she be like this with just anybody, or... does she maybe... kinda like me? I guess it’s not so bad... being eaten. Hey, maybe zombies did get something right! She certainly seems to be enjoying it. Sparing Pipsqueak further “serious” thought, Grace reached over and detached Scootaloo with a swift tug, wincing as wails of one wrongfully bereaved rent the air, mingling with the laughter of all present.

“No! Put down! Need... kishing!” Scootaloo squealed, straining towards Pipsqueak with her hooves outstretched.

“What ye need is a new hobby, lass,” Pipsqueak said slowly as he threw up his facade and reverted to his usual gait. “Grace, yer daughter be a silly dame, but I’d be scuttled afore I find somepony else with her sense o’ adventure! Thank ye fer lettin’ her join me crew.”

“You’re quite welcome,” Grace replied, her daughter’s raised volume necessitating an increase in her own so she could be heard. “Scootaloo, dear, would you please calm down? It’s really not proper to go on in such a manner.” While her mind had come to terms with the romance that had once driven her over the edge, the filly found some level of thought and articulation to be possible, slurred though it may be.

“Kishing ish fun. Wanna kish!” Scootaloo argued, staring back with extreme conviction as Grace set her on the ground.

“Well, I think you’ve had quite enough of that for one day, so why don’t you do something else for a little while? How about some dancing? You...”

“Danshing! Yay, danshing!” Scootaloo cried, not giving it another moment of thought before jumping onto the coffee table nearby and busting out the moves. Even in her undexterous state, she still maintained an impressive amount of finesse, and Pipsqueak found himself again noticing additional aspects of Scootaloo that he enjoyed that had nothing to do with the thrill of a fictional hunt.

“Storm, I don’t think they have much longer left before they’re official,” Rainbow Dash murmured, motioning towards Pipsqueak who was too awed to speak. “I mean, it’s so totally obvious that once they both figure it out...”

“Kishing, and lots of it,” Storm muttered with a defeated sigh. “It’s strange that it doesn’t bother me more, really... Sure, she’s totally smashed right now, but it still makes me happy to see her smile so much. Pipsqueak makes her laugh, and has shown that he’s more honorable than I would have guessed by walking her home. Besides,” Storm continued with a cheerful grin full of brotherly love and intent to maim, “if Pipsqueak does anything passed kissing, he’ll find out what it’s like to freefall from ten thousand feet.”

“That’s it? You big softie,” Dash giggled, pausing to call out encouragement to the filly owning the makeshift dance floor. “Yeah, flaunt those moves, Scootaloo!” Praised by her idol, showing off for a colt that was suddenly much easier to adore, now that things like inhibition and rationality had been set aside, Scootaloo was filled to bursting with revelrous glee which manifested in the form of a song. After darting from the table and very nearly colliding with the wall, Scootaloo disappeared for a moment amidst much distant crashing, only to return with her favorite hair clip in place, her mane hastily styled, and looking nothing short of alluringly gorgeous in the eyes of a young colt smitten far beyond what he knew. Bathed in the rays of the nonexistent limelight, Scootaloo stood on her hind hooves, struck a pose, and stole Pipsqueak’s breath like a true and proper lady pirate.

“I’m the esh, to the schee uh oh, T-A-L-O-O! For my shmexy captain, I’ll put on quite a show! I’m Shcootalicious!” How, Storm wondered, Scootaloo could manage such fluid movements while barely able to squeak out a coherent sentence was beyond him, but alcohol was due to take it’s toll, and semi-sultry movements slowed to a stop as the filly gave a cavernous yawn, tottered over to the couch, and promptly passed out next to Pipsqueak who decided for the sake of his already over-taxed mind that he would vacate the premise. At the sound of Storm’s voice calling out, he paused at the door, regarding the stallion with as stable a look as he could manage.

“Make it quick, lad. I could use a mug or three meself after that display...”

“Hey, I just wanted to say thanks again for bringing Scootaloo home,” Storm said, giving the colt a genuine smile. “It really does mean a lot to all of us.”

“Aye, tis just common decency, Storm. I wouldn’t be able to call meself an honorable thief if I turned a blind eye t’ me own crew staggerin’ in the streets! When she wakes, tell yer sister she should get into the grog more often. I’ve yet t’ see anypony excel more at merry makin’, prancin’, an’... she, um... looks good with her... hair...” Had the blush ever left, it would have swiftly returned, and with a barely audible “bye!” the colt turned tail and fled, away from the beauty, away from the charm, and into the cool breeze rushing passed his face as he galloped towards the clinic; if nothing else, he could have a nurse ascertain that the strange warmth and tug in his chest wasn’t just a fever.

Perplexion merrily rode piggyback, chatting up a storm and swatting away every alleged answer that began to formulate as Ruby continued to pace the length of her room. Her mind was set on finding the solution to a question she couldn’t quite spell out in its entirety, but that she knew it had something to do with the absolute impossibility that had just transpired without warning, precedent, or anything really that would explain itself or the tumult of bizarre thoughts and emotions tossed about by the gale force winds of utter confusion: the kiss just didn’t make sense. Firstly, it happened at all, which defied all expectation, and secondly, why couldn’t she get it out of her head? It was a gag. A joke. Totally platonic and definitely not born of a deeper, underlying emotion... wasn’t it?

But what if it wasn’t just a joke? What then? Silver Spoon and I just started getting close. I don’t want something like that to come along and mess it all up! And I don’t even like fillies as far as I know... Rumble was the first to catch my eye at all, and- ok, that was because he was nice, not because looking into his eyes turned my brain to mush, but still! With her thoughts about as fruitful as the Everfree Forest in the dead of winter, bewilderment was momentarily bucked from its perch while the filly paused, growled, and reared in vague agitation. “...and why can’t I get it out of my head? Dang it, Spoony, you... it... Mom~!” Throwing open her door and desperate for some assistance, the filly marched out to find the table abandoned, but a voice nearby beckoned her towards the room where her shout had roused Snowdrift from his pre-work nap.

“Dad, something happened, so now I need you to have all the answers, ok?” Ruby declared, hopping onto the bed as the groggy pegasus yawned, stretched, and flexed his maimed wings as far as was possible without pain. Of the four of Storm’s friends whose wings had been damaged in an accident some six year prior, Snowdrift probably had gotten it the worst, the result being chronic pain that made flight impossible and romantic relations excruciatingly painful. However, Snowdrift was more than just a crippled jester, and Berry’s constant support and encouragement had become the fount of life that kept a jovial stallion from dwelling on his obvious shame.

“Ugh, tossing me into a parenting moment first thing after a nap? You’re as heartless as your mother,” Snowdrift quipped, rubbing sleep from his eyes and pulling a face as he realized that it may be pertinent to brush his teeth before heading out. “Well, come on,” he continued, patting the bed beside him, “tell me what’s on your mind, and we’ll try and fill in the blanks together.” Ruby plopped down, pondered attempting eloquence or subtlety when introducing the subject, and then cleared the partially formed plan from the table with the blunt cudgel of truth.

“I got kissed by a filly, and I don’t know if I liked it.” Ruby waited patiently and expectantly as the stallion’s mind, prepared for something simple like “where is such and such miscellaneous household object,” or “this colt keeps staring at me,” or even “I just set my mattress ablaze trying to learn how to breathe fire using matches and a touch too much whisky,” but no, it was something deep and intellectual; not the clown’s forte. If nothing else, Ruby found the utter lack of comprehension in her father’s face to be worth a chuckle or two, and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes as Snowdrift was felled by the concept of serious thought.

“I’m sorry, but my sleep meter isn’t all the way filled, so questions of kissing rank or higher will be deferred to the matriarch upon her return. Have a nice day,” Snowdrift said in a cheery monotone, flopping onto his back and closing his eyes, only to open them quite suddenly as Ruby denied his denial and leapt onto his chest, nearly winding him as she caught him unawares.

“Less napping, more answers!”

“Ok, sheesh!” Snowdrift wheezed, coughing a little. “I need a little more information than just ‘I got kissed:’ who, where, why, the works.”

“Fair enough. Uh... Silver Spoon, in my room, just a little while ago, and I think it was part of the prank we played on Scootaloo. I think.”

“What did you do, anyways? Poor filly came out and chugged nearly half a bottle of wine before staggering off...” After an appropriate amount of time spent laughing at the thought of drunken Scootaloo and feeling slightly stinted that she didn’t get to see the fruits of her labors, Ruby calmed and was preparing to give an in depth explanation when the opening of the front bid her pause. “Berry, Ruby is trying to make me think~! Make her stop!” Snowdrift whined, grinning cheekily as the filly folded her hooves across her chest and gave what she imagined was a stern glare.

“Ruby, what have I told you about asking your father serious questions? That’s dangerous,” Berry chided playfully, reassuring Snowdrift with a quick nuzzle before climbing up and laying next to the two. “Now, what’s on your mind that’s melting your father’s, sweetie?” Placing a hoof on the pouting stallion’s shoulder, both ponies gave Ruby their full attention as she recounted the events of the afternoon, culminating in the sudden shift in Silver Spoon before her apparent reversion immediately after. “So...” Berry started after a few moments of contemplation, “basically you’re just trying to understand why she suddenly acted so strange?”

“Pretty much,” Ruby confirmed. “I mean, she hates being touched, so I know asking her to play along might have been a little unfair, but then she got, like super close, and... then she, you know... I don’t get it!”

“Sweetie, why is this so important to you?”

“...I dunno.” Even Snowdrift caught some undertones of something in the statement, and Ruby hoped that the faint heat in her cheeks that was even more confusing than her proposed question wasn’t enough to be visible as Berry mouthed something to Snowdrift she couldn’t quite make out.

“Well, there are quite a number of possibilities,” Berry began, ignoring the anomaly and moving on. “It could be that your act of kindness, bringing her the soda the way you did, prompted Silver Spoon to do the same. You don’t really ask many favors, and maybe she’s picked up on that, even if she doesn’t always show it.”

“You know, she may have just missed your lips,” Snowdrift chuckled, wincing as Ruby justifiably bopped his snout a good one. “Manners, Ruby, manners... But seriously, from what you’ve told us and what little I’ve seen myself, Silver Spoon doesn’t really seem like one who would tease like that without a reason. It is possible you’ve got yourself an admirer.” Once, such a concept would have sent Ruby into a fit of giggles, but with her brow scrunched up in deep concentration, she stopped to ponder Silver Spoon’s behavior over the course of the week and found that both explanations seemed equally viable.

Everything is fine if she’s just finally coming around to the fact that being nice doesn’t cause mortal harm, but what if that’s not it? What am I going to do if she likes me? No, better question: what am I going to do if I find out I like her? How would I even know?

“I’m pretty sure if I tried thinking that deep, I’d land myself six feet under,” Snowdrift murmured, causing Ruby to stare blankly in his general direction. “I may not be the sharpest stallion around, but I’m pretty sure you don’t have to figure out all of life’s mysteries right this second, Ruby. Why don’t we head to the tavern so I’m not late for work, and I’ll whip you up something tasty to help take your mind off of things for awhile.”

“You know what? You’re right!”

“That happens occasionally,” Snowdrift confirmed, leaping to the ground and beaming as he turned back to find the filly had shed her mantle of worries, her infectious smile and bubbly countenance returning as she flung herself in a spectacular air tackle, latching firmly onto the stallion’s neck and knocking him a step back. Dropping Ruby to the ground and leaving her breathless from a sudden barrage of unpremeditated tickles, Snowdrift couldn’t help but take a moment of silent appreciation for how lucky he was, convinced that a slightly sore neck was a small price to pay for fatherhood.

How can one, a young dragon with a heart of gold, reconcile the fearful notion that something he’d witnessed and longed for himself, the beautiful friendships that had blossomed within the heart of the lavender unicorn he loved as much as any colt would his mother, had ground to a halt in his own life? It wasn’t just Sweetie Belle that he cared for, but each and every one of her friends; they all mattered. Certainly, as the young dragon quietly let himself into the library, offering but a simple wave to acknowledge the enthusiastic greetings received from the very one he sought to emulate, her stalwart companion, and tyrannical daughter that could render nearly anypony defenseless with a single squee, he found the corners of his mouth dreadfully difficult to keep upturned. Up the stairs, to his room, and into a bed that amounted to little more than a basket, well-worn fibers offered a sliver of security as a claw blocked out the world and one exhausted Spike sought to untangle the knotted cords of friendship, infatuation, and the growing notion that something important was missing.

I’ve never just walked away from Sweetie Belle like this before. I’ll bet she was really upset, but I... hope she doesn’t come by later. I don’t even know what I’d say to her right now. Probably something like, “Hi. I’m upset at you but I’m not sure why, so come back later when looking at you doesn’t make me want to cry.” As the thought completed, punctuated by a slow, pained sigh, Spike closed his eyes a little tighter as he found the facetious contemplation within may hold more truth to it than he first imagined.

Something feels... wrong. Despite an upbringing where he all but bathed in a sea of knowledge, his scholarly friend constantly ranting with foal-like excitement about this new spell and that new fascinating morsel of intellectual delight for the world around, Spike couldn’t quite seem to attach any more details or describe the doubts clawing at his conscience with any greater articulation. Sweetie Belle’s romantic desires were quite openly on display more often than not, but that was never what Spike had found most appealing about her. The notion of actually managing to maintain a minimal level of sentience long enough to partake in the enthralling wonder held in high esteem among all coming of age pre-teens, the mythical first kiss, had originally filled his young heart with nearly enough wonder to make him soar, but now was just a blight on a schedule filled on every time slot with “insert artificial romance here.” If being somepony’s coltfriend simply meant getting the blunt end of an increase in moodiness and quailing under the hoof of a filly’s trumped up dreams with no regard to his own, then what was the point?

While the realization and interpretation of all these things were far beyond one so young, his heart could feel much deeper than his mind could comprehend, and thus the weight remained without a clear explanation or slightest notion of how to go about fixing the matter, or if he should even try. I just... want things to go back to the way they were. Back when we would laugh, and tease, and hang out with Scootaloo and Applebloom and get into trouble... Even when we squabbled a little, it was better than this. Reptilian eyes cracked open as Spike slowly dropped his claw from snout to heart, a sudden wave of longing confirming something within that last thought to be more meaningful than he once assumed. The way things were... What Spike wanted, even if he couldn't quite make out the signs, wasn't to abandon his romantic endeavors with the filly that, even while he trembled in the midst of depression and doubt, still held his care and affection, but to be reassured from the same filly that in these pursuits, the friendship that meant so much to him wasn't neglected, cast aside, or lost entirely as two hearts took their first tentative steps towards becoming one.

“Spike?” Where once Twilight had simply guessed that her student's lackluster greeting was indicative of little more than exhaustion from a long day playing with friends, the mare knew that there must be more as she crested the top step just in time to see Spike roll away from her. Instantly concerned, Twilight plodded gently over and took a seat beside the basket that would be a bed. It's not much, but he's definitely been growing. That thing looks a little... cramped. Agitation couldn't stop Spike from being slightly bewildered as he was gently lifted into the air, and while he stubbornly resolved within himself not to open his eyes until Twilight prodded him with something a little more than just his name, he failed even at this as a brilliant flash of lavender light lit the darkness behind closed eyes, and he was gently lowered down onto something much softer and spacious than his cradle. Twilight offered little more than a gentle smile as Spike glanced around at the spare bed that was kept in the basement, the very same that Applejack and Rarity had christened with their bickering and subsequent reconciliation.

“I...” Spike didn't really know what to say, so sudden was the shift, but there was understanding in Twilight's eyes as she climbed up and lay before him, waiting patiently for him to find his words. Where once he had felt that his confusion was capped out, the tears beading his eyes now informed Spike that he was in this mistaken, and again he found himself unable to articulate what it was he wished to say, but as he was drawn into a gentle embrace, he said what two words stood out the most. “Thanks, Twilight...”

“It's just a bed...” Twilight murmured, squeezing a little tighter as a small convulsion confirmed that a sense of humor still remained within her troubled assistant. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Something tells me that would kinda be like asking me to recite poetry with my tongue wrapped around a lamppost in the dead of winter,” Spike muttered, shaking his head a little.

“Don't go selling yourself short, now,” Twilight urged, releasing her charge and waving a cautionary hoof before him with a comically stern look of disapproval plastered over her grin. “What you just said right there was smarter than most of the things you... wait, no, that didn't come out right...”

“Remind me again how that's supposed to make me feel better?” Spike said, chuckling a little as he hung his head. “I guess that was a little mel... melodrum...”

“Melodramatic!” Twilight quipped, clapping her hooves in appreciation for Spike's attempt to expand his vocabulary. “And no, what you said was poetic because you weren't overdoing it or trying to put on a show. And while my little Spike may have himself a little bit of an attitude with just the teeniest smidgen of a show off, you’re no Trixie.”

“Remind me again what this has to do with me being upset?”

“I... have no idea,” Twilight conceded, wearing her momentary bewilderment openly. “Oh well! I’m sure I had a point in there somewhere, and in the meantime, we can move on to other things! So... you’re upset?” It was inevitable trying to keep anything from Twilight, and Spike begrudgingly resigned himself to be read like a book and analyzed with feverish scrutiny, all under the motherly gaze of the resident librarian.

“If I have to be honest, which I know I do... I’m fed up, Twilight.” The lavender unicorn instantly shed what remained of a light-hearted intro as she gave Spike her full attention. Visibly uncomfortable, refusing eye contact, and fidgeting with his claws, Spike spoke slowly as he painstakingly pieced together what it was he wished to say. “When I first started hanging out with Sweetie Belle, it was loads of fun. We’d just do whatever, whenever, and have a blast even when we got on each other’s nerves. Now... it just seems like every day is just her trying to trap me into a kiss.”

“Odd that you’re complaining about getting kissed,” Twilight offered with a slight smile, hoping to lighten the dragon’s spirit’s but quickly realized as he turned a worried eye to hers that now was neither the time nor place for levity. Upon seeing the mare looking down at him with a muzzle full of sympathy, he swiveled around to face his mentor, desperate to find an answer.

“Twilight, believe me, I’d like a kiss as much as every other guy,” Spike admitted, blushing slightly at the admission. “But I don’t want that to be all my relationship with Sweetie Belle is. Ever since she admitted that she likes me, it’s become more and more of a problem. It seems like every day, sometimes more than once, I get shoved into some awkward situation just so she can have a ‘perfect moment,’ or whatever.” As Spike fell silent, taking a few moments for his mind to continue unraveling the tangled knot tugging at his chest, Twilight reached in, as if by magic, and separated the threads, her wisdom and experience spelling out what he’d been trying to put into words the whole evening.

“It sounds to me like you’re hurting because you feel like Sweetie Belle’s pursuit of romance is driving you apart as friends,” Twilight said softly, her countenance falling as Spike’s outward shock confirmed her inner fears. “It’s easy to become so absorbed by desire that we lose sight of what’s really important. I’m sure Sweetie Belle isn’t trying to make you feel this way... Have you tried talking to her?”

“I don’t even know what I’d have said. I didn’t want to hurt her...” Unable to bear seeing the young pony trapped in scales looking so defeated, Twilight disappeared in a flash of pale light, only to reappear a short while later with Sugarcube Corner’s finest confection.

“Eat this quickly before Dawn sees,” Twilight urged, floating the cupcake into eager claws and making a mental note to take the Cakes a few bits the following morning. “Now, while the magic of baking drives away your stress, I’d like to offer you some advice about friendship.” Spike took a bite and nodded, relishing the sweetness as he licked some frosting from his claws. “I know you’d never try to hurt Sweetie Belle, or any other pony for that matter, but how is she supposed to know she’s upsetting you if you don’t say anything?”

“I thought girls knew everything,” Spike replied, chuckling half-heartedly as Twilight rolled her eyes before breaking into a grin.

“Not all of us are mind readers,” Twilight assured him, pleased to see a sense of humor yet remained. “I’ll tell you what; why don’t you take some time to yourself tomorrow? Go for a walk, think things through, and when you’re ready, try talking things out with Sweetie Belle. Oh, and I’ll have a talk with Rarity,” she added with a wink. “While not always pleasant, Rarity is a master of persuasion, and if, for some bizarre reason, Sweetie Belle isn’t receptive to your feelings... well, I’m sure she’ll listen to her sister. For hours, most likely.”

“Is... is cupcakes!” Alas, the time for instruction drew to a close along with the peace as one foal’s olfactory senses proved once more their inherent alignment to the path of sugar, prompting Dawn’s mad scramble of the stairs and immediate tackling of the cupcake haver. Bowled from his place of rest by an indigo streak and a mass of mane, Spike was left with no choice but to relinquish what remained of his cupcake as Dawn unashamedly jammed the confection into her mouth, munching happily without a care in the world as Cerulean trotted up the steps after her.

“Dawn, what have I told you about heartless bereavement of another pony’s dessert?” the stallion chided in a fatherly tone. “Now, what do you say to Spike?” Turning to Spike with a muzzle smeared in frosting and a late in coming expression of guilty indulgence, the filly dispelled what remained of tension as she reluctantly spat out what hadn’t been swallowed and offered it up with both hooves and wide eyes.

“Daddy says I not ‘posed t’ steal cupcakes. No steal, see? I jus chewed it for you!”

“Excuse me, miss. Is Pipsqueak in?” Nurse Redheart looked up from the reception desk as Gale’s smooth voice and proper manner quite easily swayed her from the medical charts she was checking over for the umpteenth time. Ponyville, while a place of antics, was rarely one of injuries, and thus boredom was the norm, and Gale’s interruption was a welcome change of pace as the mare took a moment to compose herself, wipe a small amount of drool from the charts that had functioned as stand in pillows, and nodded with a smile.

“Yes, he’s here. He came back a little while ago, though he seemed fairly shaken up,” Redheart recalled, standing and beckoning the stallion to follow. “I’m used to seeing him rush all over the place, shouting about this, that, and the other, but that poor colt must have gotten into something he shouldn’t have.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, his cheeks were bright red,” Redheart stated, unable to keep a small giggle from escaping. “He is getting to be about that age, so I can only assume that it had something to do with a filly. Probably fled for his life after saying something he shouldn’t have. I wouldn’t think he’d cross any physical boundaries, though,” Redheart asserted with great confidence as they stopped outside the door. “Everyone around here knows that just about everything he says is an act. He’s actually quite the gentlecolt, if he stops swinging his sword around long enough to show it.”

“Yer preachin’ t’ the choir, lass,” Gale replied, accompanied by respectful laughter. “All the lad needs is a little guidance. It’s a good thing I think he’s already got his eye on a lass, an’ a dangerous one at that, because the moment that colt learns t’ balance himself a little, the fillies are gonna be linin’ up in droves, each one waitin’ fer him t’ make ‘em swoon.” Redheart’s laughter trailed down the hall as the rejuvenated mare returned to the reception desk, and Gale quieted himself as he prepared to assume the role of commodore once more. While a stallion of few assumptions and plentiful calculated guesses, the flightless pegasus found himself baffled as he entered, only to have a still faintly rosy cheeked Pipsqueak whirl around to face him with no fewer than five thermometers jammed under his tongue.

“Uh... ye feelin’ all right there, lad?” Gale was swift, bolting forward to catch the incriminating apparati as Pipsqueak spooked and spat them out. Catching all but one, which he kept from breaking by shooting out one of his mangled wings and letting roll down to the floor, the stallion examined each to find they clearly indicated a faint increase in temperature that couldn’t possibly denote a fever but still proved that something was off, and Pipsqueak sat wide-eyed as thoughts of a graceful filly threw a wrench into the gears attempting to shift back to pirate mode. “Ye must be flounderin’ pretty bad if ye could mistake these fer lollipops,” Gale teased, setting down the thermometers on the counter and turning back to Pipsqueak, no longer simply thinking of Scootaloo but also of the subject of lollipops and how he could still, if he tried, almost feel the filly’s drunken affection with his hoof. This did not bode well for his sentience, and he blinked himself out of a lovestruck daze as a shift signalled his fearless leader taking a seat beside him. “What’s on yer mind, mate? Ain’t gonna be good fer an adventure lookin’ like that.”

Ahoy, I’m always ready fer adventure! Ye should know that by now, commodore! There ain’t nothin’ or nopony that could keep me from sailin’ the winds o’ fame an’ fortune with ye! “Scootaloo.” Wait, what? That didn’t come out right...

“Aye, I figured as much,” Gale murmured, joining the colt in staring at the bleak white walls. This isn’t the place fer anypony to have to spend their childhood, let alone somepony chock full of imagination. It was for that very reason that Gale had come, and he found himself slightly nervous as he spared Pipsqueak further confusion by shifting away from the filly subject. “Have ye eaten?”

“Nay, I’ve been battlin’ a right strange fever fer the last little while here,” Pipsqueak replied after finding his voice. “Now that ye mention it... I’m starving!”

“Well then, if it pleases the captain, how would ye feel about dining with me tonight?”

“Gosh, really?!?” Pipsqueak exclaimed, his features coming alive as he followed up with a short whoop before catching himself, covering his mouth with a hoof and a look of consternation before continuing again after a short cough. “Ye wish t’ invite me back t’ yer cabin fer a spot o’ grub?” Pipsqueak clarified, a growing excitement stamping out what remained of silly things like honest sentiment as Gale nodded. Being taught manners, plundering techniques, and other traits associated with being a brigand of class was one thing, but to be specifically requested to dine with somepony above the level of captain? Gale broke into a grin as the colt found elation again difficult to restrain as he cheered for a few seconds before stifling his excitement and preserving what was left of his dignity, though he had little cause to act for Gale. “I would be honored t’ dine with ye, Commodore.” A soft-hearted stallion’s smile grew yet wider at the monicker, unable to ascertain who was doing who the honor.

“Nay, lad, the pleasure is all mine,” Gale chuckled, stooping down so he could meet the colt at his own level. “I know ye’ve likely just arrived, and ye may have plans an’ the like, but if ye wish t’ partake, then the time is now.” Wasting no time, Pipsqueak stowed his garb and was soon trotting proudly next to Gale as they left the clinic and began their walk towards Gale’s abode.

“Isn’t it a little early t’ be takin’ supper?” Pipsqueak remarked, raising his eyes skyward. Even though it was Autumn and the sun was starting to set sooner, Pipsqueak guessed that it was likely only around six in the evening despite the onset of night. He calculated a good three hours of adventuring was left to be had, though the thought of being able to spend some more time with Gale and have some real food as opposed to his regular courses at the clinic was too enticing to pass up.

“Aye, I suppose it may be for some,” Gale replied, straightening up and beckoning the colt to follow. “Mayor Mare has me on night watch, so I typically have to take my meals a wee bit sooner than most. Can’t patrol on an empty stomach.”

“Well, o’ course not!” Pipsqueak agreed, shaking his head and, perhaps, showing off just a little for a stallion held in high esteem. “That’d be like settin’ sail without loadin’ the provisions! What a mess that would be. Can you imagine bein’ captain and findin’ a whole horde o’ hungry ponies bangin’ on yer cabin door, askin’ fer grub? It’d be the plank fer sure!”

“Plank?” Gale retorted, laughing heartily. “Have ye set sail with a bunch o’ prissy ponies that’ve never swung a sword, mate? Nay, the plank would be far too soft a punishment fer such a short-sighted buffoon of a captain. Ye’d be lucky if ye ended up gull food strapped t’ the mast fer that.”

“Really?” Pipsqueak replied, awed and slightly taken aback. They never did anything like that in the books I’ve read... Are pirates really such a bad sort? “That doesn’t sound very... um...”

“It doesn’t bear thinkin’ about, lad, and especially not before dinner,” Gale continued, glancing down at the colt with a fond eye and noting with great appreciation the innocence buried within the facade that was all too transparent to his discerning eye. Gale was no psychic: he couldn’t say for sure why it was that Pipsqueak hid behind the mask of a false persona, but if the thought of using ponies as gull food, a relatively tame fate given some of the stories he knew, was enough to put Pipsqueak on edge, then Gale felt he could safely assume that Pipsqueak wasn’t the scoundrel he presented himself to be. “Don’t ye worry, lad. Yer crew would never dream o’ doin’ such a thing. I’ve seen ye with yer crew, and ye have their respect. Especially a certain little look out ye seem to do a fair bit o’ watchin’ of yerself, eh?”

Just how much does this stallion know, anyways? I’ve only seen him a few times, but it’s like... he knows everything! “...is it really that obvious, Commodore?” Pipsqueak asked, chancing a rueful grin as Gale paused outside a house on the edges of town. It was nothing special, just an average, single story Ponyville style house, though it was interesting to note that it was painted a shade of blue quite similar to Luna’s mane.

“Don’t fret, lad. I’ve no plans t’ interrogate me accomplice in trainin’, but if ye ever need a pony t’ listen should you need to speak yer mind, ye can always come by. And if ye need advice when it comes t’ taming a lass, well...” Gale paused, throwing open the door and peering in at his faithful fillyfriend and soon to be fiancé, little did the lime coated mare know. “Ye may have t’ look elsewhere, lad. I’m still learnin’ how t’ hold the reins meself.”

“Hah! Like you ever held them in the first place,” the mare laughed, instantly garnering Pipsqueak’s respect for making such a bold claim as she trotted over to meet the colt of which Gale spoke so highly. Her coat was a bright green with just a tinge of yellow, and her mane matched the deep orange eyes that burned with a fierce independence Pipsqueak likened to a certain magenta-maned filly that drifted through his thoughts in loops and dives more often than he cared to admit.

“Pipsqueak, this is me fillyfriend, Cloudburn,” Gale explained, trotting over and taking his place beside the mare. “I’d say she ain’t as scary as she looks, but then, I try t’ be honest; she’s a right terror.”

“Gee, you sure know how to flatter a mare,” Cloudburn murmured, holding her head high as she approached and dipped her head low. “You’re Pipsqueak, huh? Nice to meetcha.” Pipsqueak glanced at the offered hoof and then back up at the mare, noting that she most certainly had to be every bit as tough as she presented herself to be, given that her wings were just as mangled as Gale’s.

Whoa, this is Gale’s fillyfriend? She’s, like... intense. Cool! “Ye have me respect, lass,” Pipsqueak replied, shaking her hoof heartily and growing confused as she began to laugh once more, shooting a pointed look back at Gale to accompany her trademark smirk.

“Respect? More than I get from that one.”

“Ach, away with ye,” Gale replied, shrugging off the accusation with a grin. “Don’t ye know it’s bad form t’ speak ill of somepony’s rankin’ officer in their presence? Insubordination, lass.”

“It would only be insubordination if you ranked above me,” Cloudburn replied dismissively, shooting Gale a wink and turning back to the colt regarding her with opened-mouthed awe, bordering reverence for the sheer awesomeness of the mare’s audacity. Sassing the commodore, and getting away with it? Cool Points: acquired. “Welcome to our home, Pipsqueak. Oh, and Gale? Try not to wreck the place before I finish cooking, all right?” she called over her shoulder, completely calm as she sauntered towards the kitchen. As Gale pondered what kind of an impression the mare was attempting to make on Pipsqueak, he found himself unable to respond properly as commodore in the wake of the colt’s conclusion.

“Gale, I don’t think you’ll ever put the reins on her.” There was a clatter from the kitchen to accompany a mare’s jovial laughter as Cloudburn dropped a pan, and Gale could only grin, all too aware of this fact and embracing it wholeheartedly. Time passed quickly as Gale and Pipsqueak swapped tall tales and boasted daring feats of bravery, and it wasn’t long before Cloudburn ushered them into the dining room. Gale glanced over at Cloudburn as she set the table, making brief eye contact and giving the mare a reassuring nod. While not visible save to one who had known her, the mare was quite nervous about how she was being received by the colt, and she thanked her coltfriend internally for the boost in confidence as she finished up and took her place beside Gale, taking slight comfort in the fact that Pipsqueak was drooling even before taking the first bite.

“Gale, yer dame sure can turn out the vittles!”

“Manners, lad,” Gale chuckled as he grabbed for a warm pretzel stick and poured a small amount of dipping sauce into a bowl. “If ye truly find the meal t’ be t’ yer likin’, then ye best treat the lady with a wee bit more respect than any ol’ sea dog.”

“Huh, that makes sense,” Pipsqueak murmured, turning back to Cloudburn who was already quite excited that, manners or not, she’d made an impression on the colt. “Miss Cloudburn? Um, everything looks and smells really good.”

“Bet it’ll taste even better,” she replied enthusiastically, setting a slice of pizza on Pipsqueak’s plate and watching with hopeful eyes. It was soon proven that her lack of confidence was really quite unnecessary, as the small portion of food she’d laid out for the colt was downed in record time along with an eager, though polite, request for more. While normally the one viewed as entertainment, Pipsqueak couldn’t help but be both amused and entertained with his commodore and his first mate as they bantered back and forth, and where once feelings of trepidation had clouded the experience, within a very short while Pipsqueak’s awkward nervousness was replaced by a strange sense of belonging that was as confusing as it was welcoming.

“Yarr, who dares disturb the captain’s feast?” Pipsqueak was learning a great many things in his stay with Gale, most notably that his manners would need to be given some work, and as he sprayed a few crumbs of roasted veggie pizza addressing the sudden knock on the front door, a mare hoof shot out and covered his maw. This, accompanied by a look both caring and fierce, bid him refrain from further shouting with a mouthful of food. “Sorry, Miss Cloudburn,” came the dutiful apology as the colt cleared his throat and looked appropriately apologetic.

“No worries; you’re learning quickly,” she replied, wiping her hoof on a napkin and smiling sweetly. “Gale, would you mind?”

“Nay, but me half-filled gut might have a word or two for ye,” the stallion chuckled, rising from his seat and trotting to the door, where he found not Storm or one of his other friends, but Mayor Mare. “Good evening, mayor! What brings ye by me humble abode?” Gale inquired, bowing with a flourish.

“I apologize for showing up unannounced, but there seems to be a... ‘complication’ with your inquiry.” Receiving a nod from Cloudburn, Gale quietly excused himself and closed the door behind him before giving Mayor Mare the go ahead to continue. “Firstly, let me say that I am absolutely delighted that somepony, especially an upstanding citizen such as yourself, would seek to take Pipsqueak in as their own child. However, as I was setting up the proper paperwork, as per your request, I found that there is... an additional constraint.”

“Constraint, eh?” Gale mused, putting a hoof under his chin. “I know I’m not exactly rollin’ in bits, but a third pony in my...”

“Oh, it has nothing to do with finances, I assure you,” Mayor Mare interjected. “It’s just, well... read this, if you would.” Gale accepted the paper gingerly only to find himself somewhat baffled by the words within, not on account of complexity, but simply that they were what they were, and the royal seal ascertained that there was no question as to the document’s authenticity. Mayor Mare would have been visibly nervous were it not for many years acting as mayor and dealing with no small number of bizarre occurrences; she knew of Pipsqueak’s situation, but the requirements laid out within that single page were intimidating, to say the least. “I’ll understand if you need some time to think...”

“Think?” Gale murmured, shaking his head and giving the paper back, grinning widely. “There ain’t a thing t’ think about, Mayor. Only thing I need to worry about is getting myself a ticket t’ Canterlot first thing tomorrow mornin’.”

“So then, you still intend to move forward with the adoption?” the Mayor pressed, unable to keep the excitement from her voice. As if in answer, cordial laughter rang out from within the house, and Gale cracked open the door so she could see inside. Pipsqueak was learning that flying his flag, in this case a slice of pizza, too close to Cloudburn resulted in immediate partial consumption. Flying a flag with a giant bite taken out of it was just plain embarrassing, which the colt went on to explain at length while Cloudburn relinquished another slice to the colt along with some sage advice about hungry mares and waving food in their faces. With no argument left and nothing but a warmed heart full of gratitude to the couple stepping up to face a daunting challenge, Mayor Mare turned back to Gale as he began to speak with a smile as wide as his.

“That colt has been waiting far too long t’ have a family, an’ I intend t’ give ‘im that. If that means a tussle with royalty, then they’d best be prepared. If ye can, send off whatever letters an’ such need t’ be sent tonight, because tomorrow afternoon... I have a duel with a princess.”

As evening grew deeper and the moon rose into view, draping a quieting town with its gentle glow, Rumble quietly followed Applebloom as she wordlessly led them away from the chamber of calamity that was her house and into the quiet streets of Ponyville. Coming to the bridge that spanned a small river flowing through the town, the filly flopped onto her back, threw out her hooves, and let out a long sigh, utterly exhausted and grateful that things were finally over. In all honesty, Rumble was rather taken aback at how out of hoof things had become in such a short time span, and could readily understand the fatigue written all over the filly’s muzzle as she let out a tremendous yawn. Quietly, he took a seat by her side, joining her in mutual appreciation of something that had been so scarce that day that it nearly seemed to be a thing of legend or myth, but was theirs to share as crickets sang a symphony of serenity for the young ponies wrapped in the tranquility of dusk: peace.

“Ah don’t think ah’ve ever had an evenin’ go so awry in all mah days...” Applebloom murmured wearily, peering up at the stars. There was something about seeing the starlight reflected upon already brilliant amber eyes that gently called the colt to maintain the quietude, and as the celestial bodies danced and twinkled on a cloudless night, Rumble was helpless to do much else but simply sit in quiet adoration as an incredible feeling welled within his chest. It grew in proportion to the duration that he gazed upon a simple filly, her soft lamentations missing the colt’s ears entirely as he was drawn in by every quirk and nuance he’d learned of the girl half-heartedly shaking a hoof at the sky. Transfixed by her gaze that softened upon noticing the awe with which she was being bestowed, Rumble blinked again as Applebloom rolled onto her stomach, glanced down at the water, and slowly lifted her gaze to his.

“You didn’t hear anythin’ ah just said, did ya?”

“Nuh uh...” Rumble replied in bashful admittance, dropping his gaze. For a time, the only sound that was heard was the ambient chorus of the evensong, but the gentle thump of soft hoofbeats preceded by quiet laughter bid the colt lift his head to find that the twin mirrors into which he had peered to catch sight of Luna’s splendor had grown while his proximity to the filly had diminished. Applebloom held his gaze as she took her place beside him, and a timid smile formed as she savored the sensation blossoming within as she began to speak.

“Yer somethin’ else, Rumble...” Applebloom said softly, scooting just a fraction closer. She didn’t have any real plans, no ulterior motives or desires that she could realize on a conscious level, but her heart certainly seemed to think she was up to something as it promptly decided that it was time for the Running of the Leaves, and she belonged at the head of the pack. It sure is odd that ah’m shiverin’, ‘cause ah feel about as cold as a pie fresh out o’ the oven. “Are you really not bothered by everythin’ that happened tonight?”

“Nuh uh...” Despite the setting, Applebloom couldn’t help but be a little skeptical of the colt’s expected, though debatable, response to her question, but she lay open and defenseless for the sheer honesty stitching together a quilt of gracious adoration, laid across her shoulders to keep her safe from the cool of the night. Rumble wasn’t putting on a show, and he certainly wasn’t trying to shift matters of the heart teased and never tackled into the spotlight with eloquence or dramatization, but speak he did, and for every word a portion of her tension was wiped away.

“Applebloom, I’ll admit that there were some things that were kind of uncomfortable...” Rumble began, nodding slightly as Applebloom did the same. “If those things didn’t happen, we probably wouldn’t be here, sharing this time together. I’d do it all again if it meant I got to spend a few more minutes like this with you.” Even in the dimness of night, Rumble could see the coloration shift to a pleasant, rosen hue as the filly simply stared for a time, speechless. Applebloom didn’t need her sister to act as a living lie detector, because between the colt’s crossed hooves and dazzling eyes, she knew there wasn’t the slightest trace of an untruth contained within his words.

“Rumble, ah...” Ah can’t keep actin’ like he ain’t anythin’ more than a playmate, not after everythin’ that happened today. Ah really... am special t’ him, an’ special don’t even begin t’ cover the way ah feel ‘bout him... A gentle breeze, warm and comforting, drifted over with every breath, and Applebloom slowly allowed her eyes to close as she yielded to the urge to finally say what needed to be said. Passion like fire mingled with the blood coursing through Applebloom’s veins as she opened her eyes to once more gaze upon the colt awash with moonlight. Rumble’s breath caught as she closed the distance between them, wrapping her hooves around his neck and squeezing gently as she let out a quiet whimper, overcome by the sensations and emotions culminating in an admittance that, even after a short week, felt like it had been years in coming.

“Ah really... l-like you, Rumble...” Applebloom could never have anticipated the relief that came from finally coming out with it, but a weight she hadn’t known to be weighing her down was lifted in a moment, and despite her heritage as an earth pony, the spirit of a wingless filly soared amongst the stars in the sky. The overall mood took a slight hit as the filly found herself unable to contain her jubilation, and with her hooves still encircling a colt blown away, Applebloom’s laughter echoed across the quiet planes, silencing the choir for a time as they listened to a new singer.

“Ah said it! Ah really said it! Oh, this is the best night ever! Did ya hear me, Rumble? Ah said ‘Ah like you!’” Releasing the colt so she could see his shared enthusiasm, she quickly yanked on the reins of her tongue to preserve what was left of romance as she beheld the rosen cheeks of a colt deeply smitten and not bothered in the slightest by the outburst. In fact, short of Appleblom braining him with a mallet, Rumble was certain that not even the intrusion of family or friends could deter him from enjoying the longings within his heart.

Unsure of himself, but confident in each other, the two watched each other for a few short moments before Rumble edged his muzzle a fraction closer, shuddering as a wave of dizziness most delightful sent his vision swirling. Timid, but matching Rumble’s intentions with every racing beat of her heart, Applebloom edged her muzzle forward, gazing deeply into shimmering violet eyes that shone with gentleness, kindness, and purity purer than newfallen snow. With unspoken agreement, eyes closed and two hearts touched amid a shower of sparks as they made the final push together. The ripple of the waters faded along with the rest of the world as there, in that moment, all that existed for the young filly and colt was a moment of tenderness amidst the chaos: a heartfelt first kiss, shared beneath a sea of stars.

The moment seemed to last forever, and yet as the two pulled away and Rumble slipped trembling hooves around the filly taking in short, rapid breaths at the command of a racing heart, it felt like it hadn’t lasted nearly long enough. At the same time, while Applebloom sunk deeper into Rumble’s embrace, she knew that it had been as close to perfect as any filly could hope for, and honestly? She wasn’t the slightest bit surprised. While the colt may have a frightful knack for breaking things, Applebloom was absolutely confident that the one thing that he would never break was her heart. Rumble couldn’t say for sure why the filly was now giggling softly in his hooves, but it was a joyful sound at the end of a royally disastrous day, so he shrugged away the questions and joined in, simply grateful to know Applebloom was well.

"Ah... ah guess this means you like me too, then?" Applebloom said quietly, relaxing her grip a little as Rumble tightened his.

"Uh huh." Confident, yet nervous, soft spoke but carrying with it power that sent a surge of delight through Applebloom from mane to hoof, it was exactly what the filly wanted to hear. Her sister's voice, however, was not.

“Well, Applebloom, that was right-” Applebloom didn’t even have time to annunciate the “oh hay, Rumble, hide before mah sister sees an’ does a jig on yer face” forming within her mind, the colt did what any young male caught in such a situation would do: get the hay out of there. At the sound of Applejack’s voice, Rumble attempted to leap the guardrail, but in his haste made no slight miscalculation and instead crashed into it headlong, landing himself on his back in a heap of groans and feathers. “Good grief, ah’m not that scary, am ah?” Applejack murmured, joining Applebloom as she peered down after the colt with her mouth slightly agape.

“Yeah, Applejack, ya kinda are!” Applebloom called out, immediately at Rumble’s side to make sure he hadn’t sprained a wing, broken a hoof, dislodged a shoulder, or any number of other injuries that she imagined could result from his dashingly heroic though haphazardly executed diversion. “Rumble? Quick, how many hooves am ah holdin’ up?”

“Uh huh?”

“That ain’t a number, Rumble.”

“Nuh uh...” he argued feebly, wincing as he accepted the offered hoof upright. “So, um, we should probably...”

“Stop freakin’ out long enough fer me t’ speak, most likely,” Applejack interjected, trotting over and taking a seat before the two. “First of all, we all saw the kiss, so if that’s what y’all are freakin’ out about, ya can rest easy. Applebloom’s earned it, and ah woulda been right sore fer her if ya hadn’t delivered.” Ever the more articulate of the two, Rumble shared a look of absolute bafflement with Applebloom before turning back to Applejack and presenting his well-structured justification for his actions.

“...huh?” He paused, rubbing the abrasion on his forehead as he noticed a frightening article contained within the mare’s statement. “Wait, what do you mean by ‘we?’”

“Eeee~!” Like a light purple thunderbolt, Flitter dropped from the sky with frightening speed, snatching Rumble into her arms and squealing with uncontrollable glee. “You were so adorable! I... it just... the kissing, and... yeee~!”

“Flitter, put me down!” Rumble begged, struggling frantically to escape the mare’s vice grip. “You’re only going to make it worse...” As Cloudchaser dropped down opposite Applejack, with Silver and Thunderlane bringing up the rear, Rumble ceased his struggle and stared miserably at the ground, awaiting his sentence.

“Sheesh, what’d you do to make Rumble so scared of you, Applejack?” Cloudchaser asked, glancing at Rumble who, quite honestly, looked like he’d just been banished from Applebloom’s company for good.

“Ah guess it shouldn’t come as any surprise ah’ve got ‘im so on edge, given how ah presented mahself when we first met...” Applejack recounted with a rueful smile as she walked over and motioned for Rumble to be set down. The mare paused in silent assessment of the colt for a very long and uncomfortable second or two before giving him a warm smile and continuing. “Ah know ah was rather cold t’ the idea o’ you two gettin’ close, but if anypony can sit through what you both have tonight an’ still want anythin’ other than a restrainin’ order, then there must be a bond deeper than silly infatuation or other such nonsense.” The mare’s words were almost as cathartic as an ice pack would have been, and Applejack shared in a little of Applebloom’s joy as she let out a whoop and nearly winded the colt with a titanic embrace.

“Rumble, you’ve proved t’ me you’re willin’ to go through the worst kind of torment fer Applebloom, an’ you have mah respect fer that. Applebloom, it does mah heart well t’ see you so happy, an’ while ah intend full well t’ continue doin’ mah duty as yer big sister, keepin’ you safe an’ walkin’ a proper path, know that ye have mah trust. You both do. Now then,” the mare paused, glancing around at the other ponies with a sly grin that made both wonder what was coming next, “you’ve both been through an awful lot, an’ hard work makes a pony thirsty. Ah’ve already talked t’ Thunderlane, so ah only have one question for y’all; who’s up fer a drop o’ cider?” A horrifying experience laid to rest, a much anticipated moment of romantic bonding, the unspoken assurance that, much like their feelings of affection, herself and Rumble were now officially a couple, and free license to get completely bamboozled? Applebloom couldn’t have been a happier filly.

Of Things Gross and Nasty

Chapter 17: Of Things Gross and Nasty

“Ungh...” Whump. “Unnngh...” For one so laudably dextrous, Scootaloo felt slightly cheated that her day was beginning with a front row seat to a fierce competition in how many different sounds the shattering of a vase could make. After her first critique, she attempted, quite unsuccessfully, to kindly excuse herself from the raucous din, only to find that she was strapped to her seat, her tickets were non-refundable, and she’d have to continue being subjected to auditory torment from her slightly askew position on the the floor. In short? Scootaloo had the biggest headache she’d had since the one time she’d started to daydream while riding her scooter, a rather unpleasant memory which reminded her how displeasing a concrete wall was to the palate, and her motion to run from the dissonance within had landed her face first on the floor. It was nice and cold, though.

Ugh, this is... the worst... And how the hay did my bed get so small? Disregarding her breakthrough in the field of medical sciences and the wonders of how placing her hooves on either side of her smarting cranium and applying pressure did little to aid the pain, but strangely brought her some small amount of comfort, Scootaloo cracked open a bleary eye and stared dumbly at the peculiar shape her bed had taken for a full ten seconds before realizing that she was looking at the couch. That’s... not my bed. And if that’s not my bed, then... Flopping slowly onto her other side, she confirmed that she wasn’t in her room, but splayed out on the living room floor.

It must be pretty early in the morning if nopony else is awake. Wait, why am I even out here? Nothing. Not a single reason so much as designed to tease her restless mind with an answer for a most reasonable inquiry, but Scootaloo wasn’t the patient type. Whatever, I don’t care. I need a shower... Or just a bucket of ice water to stick my head in, because I can’t... Limbs, especially those of a woefully dehydrated and terribly hung over filly, tend to be quite rebellious when given the order to move, and thus her motion to stand landed her in the Sweetie Belle position, hind legs wobbling but holding with her forelegs ardently opposed to any kind of work.

“...Fine. Scoots gonna scoot.” With her chin to the floor and fifty percent functionality of her legs, Scootaloo scooted towards the safety of her room, though attempting to open the door with her face was neither pleasant nor successful, and it was with much incoherent moaning that she pawed her way up to the handle and depressed the lever, landing her on her stomach as the door swung inwards and alerting the filly that nausea had turned on the bubble jets to max. All too aware that her stomach was no place for a spa party, Scootaloo enraged her limbs and made all haste to the bathroom, where she purged herself of nausea and whatever else was partying in the pit of her gut.

Worst... morning... ever. Flushing away a rotten memory, she proceeded to wash away the intrusive taste of food well past its prime with grateful mouthfuls of cool, clean water that felt absolutely divine when she splashed it on her face. She even smiled a little as she thrust her face into the stream and blew some bubbles simply because she could, and she was quite easily entertained when feeling totally out of it. After an appropriate allotment of foal’s play, Scootaloo reluctantly turned off the faucet and wiped her face, peering into the mirror and growing quite baffled as to how sleeping on the couch apparently cured bedmane.

“What the... why is my mane styled?” she said slowly, staring at her reflection that was every bit as confounded as herself. “I’ll have to sleep on the couch more often if this is what it does!” she giggled, running a hoof along her mane combed not up and over as normal, but down around her shoulders. Pleased that it was growing out and yet still able to hold its tomcolt shape when she needed it to, Scootaloo flexed her limbs, tested them with a few hops, and nodded her approval as she pranced out into the center of her room and stopped cold as the first memory of the day prior came floating back.

“Ew ew ew, ugh, where’d that come from?” Scootaloo murmured, shaking her head vigorously for a split second before finding that the invasive train wreck of a band within her head was only spurred to greater efforts by such a thing. “Sweetie Belle was all over Spike yesterday... That was just... just... ugh, somepony needs to have a talk with that filly.” Flopping onto her bed, Scootaloo rolled over and stared at the canopy top with disinterest as the memories of the previous day came filtering back. Even in the safety of solitude, Scootaloo had trouble bringing herself to be honest with a truth she didn’t feel comfortable with: she was just as curious as her friends.

Ok, this is probably a huge longshot, but I wonder if it’s possible that Pipsqueak might... kind of... maybe... have just a little, teensy tiny bit of... “feelings” for me, or whatever? He did say that he wanted to hold my hoof that one time... The mere thought of such a thing made her giddily nauseous, though she chose for the moment to blame the latter on whatever strange illness had taken her. It seems like he’s always a pirate, or sometimes a knight, but I don’t know if I’ve ever really seen him not be... something? I wonder if he ever does calm down? Scootaloo couldn’t well blame him, and the correlation drawn between his acting and her stubborn denial of all things feminine brought a faint hint of a smile to one filly’s muzzle.

Heh, I’ve never really let him see me without an act, either. One day, maybe... There was no need for a facade, there in the protection of four walls, and Scootaloo found herself absent-mindedly stroking her mane as she pondered the consequences, and possible benefits, of stepping out of her comfort zone and into the unknown, a place fraught with peril, danger, and possible mushy moments. Not yet... I don’t think I’m ready just yet. But maybe I could tease him a little? Keep my hair all done up, swish my tail a little... He’d probably start all that proper... stuff... whatever the way he was talking when called me his queen. Looking back, Scootaloo again found herself beaming, even laughing a little as she recalled how oh so very flustered it had made her.

Yeah, definitely not yet. It’d mess up all our adventures if I was getting all lovey dovey on him! That’d just be... boring. And kinda gross. Yeah! Gross... ew. Sliding off her bed and feeling sufficiently recovered enough to face the day, she swung open the door and found that she had overestimated her preparedness by about twenty percent.

“Look who’s finally... finally...” Rainbow Dash couldn’t even finish the sentence before keeling over with laughter, a disconcerting noise to be sure, and one that was readily shared by the black-coated stallion beside her.

“Good morning, sis,” Storm managed, forcing his cachinnation to a simmer so he could speak clearly. “Rough day yesterday?”

“Rough?” Scootaloo exclaimed, shaking her head and again finding it to be a most unpleasant way to vent her frustration. “My head is killing me, I just proved I’m not a lady by keeling over in the bathroom and- it tasted pretty nasty, by the way... And you know what’s the worst part? I don’t even know why!”

“Wait, hold... hold up!” Dash chortled, as irksome to Scootaloo as it was confusing. Simply having her mane brushed didn’t really account for such an explosive display of immature fun having, did it? “You mean... you can’t remember?”

“Oh no, I remember,” Scootaloo assured her. “How could I forget? First I walk in to find Rumble all raring to go, and then see Sweetie Belle with her horn all... and don’t even get me started on Ruby!”

“And then?”

“And then...” And then... And then nausea found its way back. I can’t... remember? Why the hay can’t I remember what happened next? Wait, I can’t remember anything past seeing Silver Spoon kissing Ruby! Rainbow Dash, currently beside herself remembering the drunken filly’s antics which were clearly not part of the filly’s mental scrapbook, couldn’t find the wherewithal to act as a proper mare should when a desperate pre-teen and number one fan’s eyes grow wide with disbelief and pure, raw terror. “Rainbow Dash... what happened?”

“A lot!” came the jovial, ambiguous, and gratingly vexing answer, though a nudge from Storm invoked the mothering sympathy Dash was still working on trying to perfect. “Ok, ok, you came home completely drunk, and were really funny to watch for about fifteen minutes. Then you plumb passed out on the couch, and snored like crazy.”

“Drunk? How did... but... no, nevermind! ‘Fun to watch?’ What’d I do, Rainbow Dash?”

“Why don’t you ask Pipsqueak? He seemed to enjoy the show immensely,” Storm interjected, wincing as Scootaloo did what any vaguely lovestruck filly would do when informed that they had engaged in drunken shenanigans in the presence of their unofficial significant other: she screamed. Loud. And long. In fact, her lung capacity was fairly commendable, as were the windows that all stayed intact through such a piercing howl of dismay.

“Pipsqueak was watching? It’s over! I’ll never be able to show my face around him again!” Scootaloo wailed, throwing herself at the mercy of the floor’s caring embrace. “Hl nvr lk m nw! Uh prly dnc, n shng, n... why did I have to get hammered?!?” Scootaloo yelled, wrenching her face from the floor long enough to lament her regrettable course of action before again applying her face to the floorboards with undue affection.

“Scootaloo, if you’re worried about what he thinks, then go talk to him,” Storm offered, nailing both amused and sympathetic at the same time as he place a hoof, trembling from concealed mirth, upon his sister’s quaking form. “He’ll probably have a good laugh, because you were really freaking silly, but I don’t think you have to worry about him thinking ill of you.”

“Are you kidding?!?” Scootaloo exclaimed, yanking herself upright. “He’s got to think I’m the mushiest sap alive! And why would anypony want to listen to anything I have to say after hearing me sing? I know I suck, ok?” Overwhelmed by the crushing weight of social suicide, the pegasus made like a Wonderbolt and zipped out of the room, hiding her crimson cheeks that would soon be streaked with tears under her pillow. No longer enthralled with teasing his increasingly emotional sister, Storm took a step towards the hall with every intent on doing whatever he could to ease the pain of humiliation. However, there was one pony whose similar fear of public ridicule gave her a deeper understanding of Scootaloo’s plight, and Storm regarded the cyan hoof holding him back with mild confusion as Rainbow Dash decided it was her turn to give her number one fan a pep talk.

“Don’t worry, Storm. I got this one,” Rainbow Dash assured him, making towards the hallway.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, duh. Why would you even ask that?” the mare replied, turning around and shooting the stallion a pointedly baffled glance.

“Rainbow Dash, she’s really torn up. Boasting about your awesomeness isn’t going to...” As a pony, Rainbow Dash was the most aggressive mare Storm had ever known: a trait only made more potent by her pregnancy. The sullen, icy glare with which he was suddenly transfixed cut off the rest of his warning, and while Scootaloo was indeed at the top of her priority list, she wasn’t about to let her reputation be tarnished, and by her husband no less.

“I allow a pretty lenient amount of stupid to escape your mouth, but if you were to continue accusing me of being incapable of telling the difference between a time for pumping up and a time for band aids, I would seriously have to maul you within an inch of your life. Now, is there anything else, or can I go help my little sis?”

“...you’re right, I’m sorry, Dashie. I just... Scootaloo is...” Hay, she’s growling? Is she really that moody today? I just wanna help my sister... “...Sorry.” Rainbow Dash maintained her incriminating gaze before a double buck to her gut informed her that she may be coming down to hard on the stallion, and she turned her attention to her swollen stomach in reluctant acceptance of her chastisement.

“Yeah, yeah, I was out of line. I get it, you two. I’ll apologize after I talk to Scootaloo, ok?” This seemed to satisfy the twins who immediately settled down and were likely giving each other high hooves for a mother well corrected as the mare shed every scrap of superiority and pride, trading them in for the softer side of herself she was still trying to get comfortable with. Scootaloo and herself were similar in many ways, a fact that wasn’t lost on her as she climbed up beside the filly and draped a wing of her lightly shaking form. “Rough way to start the day, huh?”

“Mmph...” came the groan, muffled by the pillow that Scootaloo held to her face.

“I know what it’s like to be scared too, you know,” Rainbow Dash admitted after due contemplation of the filly’s condition. Scootaloo slowly pulled away the pillow just enough to peer up at Rainbow Dash through glassy eyes, still hiding her burning cheeks but at least showing she was paying attention. “Back before I was a Wonderbolt, even before I had met your brother, there was a competition held in Cloudsdale. I knew the Wonderbolts would be there, and I’d been practicing my Sonic Rainboom, like, every day, but I still hadn’t managed to do another since the very first time by the start of the competition. I- can you keep a secret?”

“Well, I think-”

“Seriously, if this gets out, I may have to do something awful to you,” Rainbow Dash pressed, holding the filly captive with a dangerous intensity burning in her eyes before chuckling a little, accepting the pillow tossed at her face with dignity. “Eh, Storm would never let me get away with anything drastic anyways,” she continued with a grin as she returned the downy projectile to its sender, “so you should be safe. The truth is, I was so nervous to go out in front of all those ponies that I kept swapping my number with the other contestants. By the time the last number came, I was... kinda...”

“What?”

“...hiding in the back, shaking like crazy, ok?” the fabled flier said, cringing. “I can tell by the blank stare that I kinda just blew your mind. Even now, I still get nervous before shows, and if it weren’t for your brother, I don’t know that I’d have the strength to step out onto the stage. My question for you, Scootaloo, is this: what exactly are you afraid of?”

“I never said anything about being afraid,” she said stubbornly, averting her gaze.

“...seriously? I just came out with one of my most humiliating memories, and you’re going to sit there and tell me that I don’t know what I’m talking about? You’re terrified, Scootaloo. It’s pretty obvious.” Scootaloo opened her mouth to assert that, yes, she was going to be that stubborn, but fell quiet as she beheld her idol peering down at her with genuine concern, all traces of mirth having been laid aside. “I can’t... stand the thought of other ponies laughing at me. I never wanted to lose or let anypony down, so I forced myself to get stronger. Storm’s... told me why you’ve been fighting so hard against being ladylike outside the house, but there’s more to it, isn’t there?”

“I...” Words failed the filly as she scrambled to produce an acceptable response, but a deep question required equally thorough soul searching, and thus she fell quiet as Rainbow Dash moved in for the hug. Sheltered under soft blue wings, Scootaloo set aside her inhibitions and delved deep, knowing that no matter how weak or silly the answer was, Rainbow Dash could handle it. The answer, she soon found, was closer to the surface than she thought.

“R-rejection...” A shiver prompted a tighter hold as a filly slowly put together the pieces that she’d purposely left unconnected, shoved in the corner of her mind where she hoped she’d never have to deal with it. “Applebloom, Sweetie Belle, and everypony else... they’ve only seen a girl who’s more prone to fight than dress up. If I just suddenly come out with it that I’m totally into girly things too, what’ll they think? What if they don’t accept it? It’s not worth losing my friends to...” Rainbow Dash could feel within herself the filly’s fear as she choked on her words, falling silent as she buried her muzzle into her idol’s chest.

Awww, Scoots... You’re not gonna let me out of this without making me get all sappy, are you? Sniffing a little, Rainbow Dash took a deep breath and gently pried Scootaloo’s face away so she could look the filly in the eyes. “If ponies can’t accept you- all of you, for who you are, then they aren’t worth keeping around. I know that sounds harsh, but it’s true. Applebloom and Sweetie Belle already know, you’ve told me before. I know a thing or two about friendship, and they’re never gonna turn their backs on you ever.”

“I know, but...” Scootaloo managed, struggling to accept that she was just a hair shy of bawling in front of her hero. “What about... about...” Pipsqueak... Imagining the loss of the colt’s friendship, even for a moment, was enough to force her eyes closed in a desperate attempt to stem the resulting flood.

“This is about Pipsqueak, isn’t it...” Dash said quietly, placing a fond hoof on the filly’s head as she feebly pounded the bed with a hoof.

“It isn’t... isn’t fair...” Scootaloo grit out, hanging her head and watching the tears fall to the sheets. “Why do I care so much about one... stupid colt?”

“I dunno, but that’s not the question to answer right now,” Rainbow Dash replied, setting a hoof under the filly’s chin and guiding teary eyes to her own with a gentleness few had the luxury of witnessing. “Scootaloo, you’re beautiful either way. You don’t need anypony that can’t appreciate the whole, but they won’t be able to if you never let them see both sides. You’re not the only one who’s scared.”

“I don’t... understand, Rainbow Dash...”

“Think about it, Scootaloo. Pipsqueak attacked your dad the first time he saw him, out-swagged Storm, and yet acts like a totally different pony when dealing with your mother. He looked really shaken up when he brought you home yesterday, but he still did anyways. He was talking like a pirate most of the time, but totally shifted when he started trying to talk about how impressed with you he was. Do you see what I’m getting at?”

“Not really. I can’t... think that great right now.”

“Eh, that’s understandable,” Dash conceded with a shrug, causing a smile ever so brief to flash across the filly’s muzzle. “Ponies act to hide something they don’t want seen. I act invincible so ponies don’t stop to think about how scared I might really be. You keep your girly side locked up and buried like treasure because you don’t want to look weak or lose any friends. Pipsqueak... he kinda just acts delusional, but why? It’s a mask, Scootaloo, just like yours.”

It made sense. It made painfully obvious, right-there-in-front-of-you-the-whole-time sense, and Scootaloo’s tremors ceased as she sat riveted by the possibility that she wasn’t the only one with something to hide. Really, as she pondered all that had happened, she realized that she really didn’t have much left to hide from Pipsqueak, given that he’d seen her dance, sing, and get sloppy all in the course of a week.

I knew I couldn’t keep hiding forever. Dancing is great, almost too much fun, and so is getting all primped up, or whatever. I just didn’t think the time would come so soon, but... I can’t keep running. I won’t. “I’m gonna talk to him.” No amount of tears shed could fully extinguish the fire within, and life returned to the filly as her spirit took its stand beside the mare beaming down at her with soothing approval.

“Awww yeah, that’s my awesome little sis,” Rainbow Dash cheered, doling out a much deserved high hoof and gratefully accepting another hug.

“Ok, now shoo,” Scootaloo quipped, leaping off the bed and trotting towards the bathroom.

“Wait, what? That’s all the thanks I get?”

“My mane is a disaster, my face is a wreck, and I probably still have death breath from spewing chunks this morning. If I’m gonna prove I have a girly side and I like it, talking to him as a grungy, smelly slob isn’t going to really make my point,” Scootaloo declared, grinning back at Rainbow Dash as determination replaced flooded her being. “I need time to calm down, get presentable, and figure out how the hay I’m gonna get that colt to lay down his sword long enough to talk sense.”

“Yeah, good luck with that. Hate to say it, but he’s probably denser than Storm. Maybe you can just overpower him with ‘fabulosity,’ as Rarity would say.” Scootaloo paused, examining herself in the mirror as bashful grin slowly spread ear to ear.

“You know what, Dash? I think that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. Time to get fabulous!”

“...that’s it, I’m outta here.” Scootaloo giggled as Rainbow Dash made her exit, turning back to the mirror as she examined her arsenal of mane products.

“You’d better be ready, captain. This lass is about to get sassy.”

Ruby was, quite frankly, bewildered by Silver Spoon’s sudden shift in temperament, curious about the possible deeper ramifications, and slightly introspective as she contemplated how she herself felt about the literal afterglow of her first kiss. Ruby had never counted herself as a fillyfooler. In fact, her attraction to others wasn’t even something that she really thought about, at least not from a physical standpoint.

I’ve always cared more about a pony’s spirit than anything else. Nice pony? Make friends. Mean pony? Try to be a friend anyways. Diamond Tiara? Toss garbage at her. It’s a solid formula! Giggling as she rolled out of bed, she paused at her closet and cracked it open, gazing inside. How am I supposed to know if I like Silver Spoon? Like, really like her? Isn’t it supposed to be kind of obvious? I don’t get super nervous around her like Spike does with Sweetie Belle sometimes...

Closing her closet again, she waved to her mother before hopping into the shower and continuing her thoughts, coming to the conclusion that she had no idea what she felt, and that was fine. Curiosity, however, was something that drove Ruby absolutely bonkers, and thus it was that Berry Punch and Snowdrift looked up from their respective drinks upon the filly’s entry and inquiry.

“Ok, so how do you know if you really like somepony and aren’t just tricking yourself, or in denial, or have your head so full of romantic whatever from your friends all hooking up that it makes you feel like you’ve just walked away from an all you can eat breakfast buffet that only serves cake and ice cream?”

“That’s a pretty big question, sweetie,” Berry replied with a warm smile.

“I’ll say. What kind of ice cream?” Snowdrift continued, receiving an eye roll from both females as he adopted an appropriately thoughtful expression for such an intriguing and delicious question.

“Come on, dad, I’m serious!” Ruby chirped, garnering the stallion’s attention and affection with such a simple three letter word. He hadn’t simply been blessed with the title by virtue of being Berry’s coltfriend, but had earned her trust and Berry’s by continually putting the best hoof forward, putting their needs before his own. “I got kissed yesterday, remember? I’m trying to figure stuff out!”

“Ok, ok, no cake,” Snowdrift conceded, mulling over the heart of the question with a sip of cider. “Well, I didn’t really like anypony until I met your mother, but... it didn’t really hit me right away. I noticed her from afar, slowly learned about her from what few short dealings I had with her, fewer still the ones where she was lucid...”

“I was never that drunk when you served me... was I?” Incredulous looks from her daughter and lover combined with a gentle reminder forced her to concede that, perhaps, Snowdrift had it right the first time.

“Nah, not that drunk. I only had to save you from your own soup twice.”

“Off topic, off topic!” Ruby squealed, laughing as Berry busied herself with the rest of her wine. “Seriously, I’m serious here!”

“Seriously serious?”

“Yes, dad, seriously serious! Is that really all the advice you have to give me?”

“Ruby, dear, there’s really no need to rush,” Berry replied, setting her empty glass aside and giving her daughter due attention. “When you meet the right pony, whether it happens quickly or over weeks, months, or even years, one day you’ll simply know. And Ruby?" Berry paused, shooting an infuriatingly innocent grin, “if she’s a filly, that’s fine.”

“Mom, come on,” Ruby defended, only slightly blushing and likely not visibly apparent. “I already explained that was part of a joke.”

“If it were just a joke, you wouldn’t be seriously serious, now would you?” Berry chuckled, striking Ruby temporarily speechless. “Ruby, as long as the pony you find makes you happy, and you do the same for them as well, then you’ll have my wholehearted support.” Sticking to her new rationing in the wake of her pregnancy scare and subsequent dry spell known as “abstinence” wherein her usually cheerful demeanor was less than accepting of anypony and everypony that crossed her path, the mare with a taste for all things alcoholic set her glass in the sink with a clink, jump starting Ruby’s mind and bringing her father an approving smile. It was likely that Ruby would someday have a new sibling, and Snowdrift didn’t particularly care to deal with a withdrawal as harrowing as the last had been, so Berry had proposed she limit her intake, with room for allowances and wild nights. “Wondering if Silver Spoon would agree to another ‘joke?’”

“Huh? No, I wasn’t... that’s not what I was thinking, and you know it!” Ruby yelped, unwilling to admit that her mother was only partially correct. “Geez, you’re full of it today, mom. I’m gonna go try to find somepony to hang out with...”

“Have fun, be safe, and say hello to Silver Spoon for me!” Berry called out, chuckling as Ruby paused just long enough to stick out her tongue before trotting away. As much as she hated the thought of proving her mother right, running away from her worries wouldn’t solve them any faster. Besides, more often than not, hanging out with her spectacled friend seemed to enhance her already cheerful nature, and within a very short time she found herself outside the door of a rather luxurious house that was second in size and opulence only to the snobbiest snob of Ponyville. Upon her knock, the door was answered by Silver Spoon’s mother, Crystal Chalice; the pinnacle of refinement, minus the whole being stuck up bit.

“Good morning, Ruby,” the mare began in a proper tone. “Here to see my daughter?”

“Yep! Is that all right?”

“Oh, but of course!” she replied, standing aside. “Do come in. I do not know if she’s up quite yet, but I’m sure she’ll be delighted to see you. Silver Spoon? You have a guest!” After a few seconds of silence, Crystal offered an apologetic grin for her daughter’s “rude” behavior and motioned the filly towards Silver Spoon’s bedroom. Ruby offered her thanks, trotted up the stairs, down the hall, and stopped outside a door emblazoned her friend’s cutie mark.

Huh, this is weird. I’m... nervous? That doesn’t make any sense at all! Come on, Ruby, it’s not like she’s going to attack you the moment you crack open the door! Or, well, she might... but whatever! Steeling her nerves, Ruby gently set her hoof on the handle before pausing, a slow smile spreading across her face as she depressed the lever even slower, cracking open the door and peering inside. Whoa... glad to see I'm not the only one over-thinking this stuff.

With the events of the previous day still fresh in her mind, Silver Spoon had found herself becoming more and more worried about how Ruby had taken her advance: it was sudden, impulsive, rash, dangerous, and more frightening than anything else, genuine. Ruby, after taking a moment to study how much different the filly looked without her glasses on, slowly slipped in, closing the door most of the way and creeping forward with dubious intent, though she had little need for stealth, as Silver Spoon was too stooped in anxiety bother looking up.

I hope she isn’t too upset... I know it was way too forward, but I just... I couldn’t... A sigh, soft and long, slowly escaped as Silver Spoon recognized a fact she could no longer deny; she was falling for Ruby, a filly with seemingly nothing in common and an annoying persistence that bordered on alluring with the most infuriating habit of brightening her day. Relinquishing her resistance with a shrug, she began to reach for her glasses before the world was blocked out, her eyes forcing closed as a sudden, cavernous yawn gave the filly pause.

“Awww, you’re so cute, Spoony.” It was fortunate that Silver Spoon had taken in plenty of air, as it was soon expended in the form of an undignified yelp, giving the giggling filly standing just inside the doorway further cause for mirth.

“I told you not to call me that!” Silver Spoon shot back, glaring through still bleary eyes as Ruby displayed the products of her uncouth upbringing, merrily inviting herself in and jumping onto the bed. Slightly nervous and under the influence of a highly overreacting imagination, Silver Spoon pulled her blankets a little closer and shied away as Ruby approached. “...you’re not going to stop that, are you?”

“Nope!” Ruby replied with a fiendish grin, taking a seat about a pony length away and giving poor Silver Spoon no small amount of teasing, unintentional though it was, as she tilted her head ever so slightly to the side, forcing Silver Spoon to look away as the filly’s mane tumbled down, framing a radiant smile.

“Y-you do realize that was a rhetorical question, right?” Silver Spoon managed, frustrated on multiple levels with Ruby who just didn’t seem to get it.

“Duh! I’m not that dumb...” Ruby asserted, edging closer and bringing her mouth close to her friend’s ear. “Spoony.” A warm breath of air, tinged with Ruby’s scent, brushed past Silver Spoon’s ears and nose, prompting yet another blatant admittance that seemed to have zero visible impact on a filly denser than lead.

“You drive me crazy!” Silver Spoon shouted, instantly regretting her choice of words and recognizing them as the fuel to the fire that they were. Don’t go there, just don’t go there...

“Ooooh, really?” Ruby tittered, coyly covering her muzzle with a hoof. “I can tell!”

“Ruby! I... you just... your face... rrrrgh!” Silver Spoon ended the conversation in short order, grabbing a nearby pillow and burying her muzzle so that her screams were muffled and her lips occupied with something other than the function coming to mind. She tensed as a shift in the bed indicated Ruby’s approach, and Silver Spoon immediately sought to determine if the sudden tension in her hooves was that of a warning smack brewing or an incriminating embrace, too tight to be viewed as merely being friendly. However, testament to Ruby’s assertion that her intelligence was at least average, she recognized her friend’s disgruntled position and took a shot in the dark.

“I meant what I said, you know.” Slowly withdrawing her muzzle from a pillow most inviting, Silver Spoon gave Ruby her attention as the filly nodded once before continuing. “I’ll admit, I was a little- ok, a lot surprised when you kissed me. I totally didn’t see it coming at all! And I don’t know if that was you having a bit of fun at Sweetie Belle’s expense or my ravishing good looks catching your eye...” Ruby paused just long enough to give Silver Spoon, already reeling from a tidal wave of nonchalant acceptance, a meaningful wink before continuing. “Whatever the case, I’m not upset, and I’m not gonna let you stay inside moping all day, got it? Now, come on!”

“Why, somepony can’t manage their own grocery list?” Silver Spoon replied, her spirits lifting despite her frustration as she slid off the bed after the filly bouncing in place by the door. “Well, whatever boring thing you have planned for the day, I suppose I can tag along. I might even be entertained. Now, what is it that we’re going to do together?”

“Oh, you know, walking, talking...” Ruby began in a casual tone, trailing off and shooting Silver Spoon a look that left the filly with no room for doubt that Ruby was one hundred percent aware of her infatuation, and intended to drive her to the brink of kissing or insanity, whichever came first. “Oh, and bath time! Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

Rumble clutched one of his pillows over his head, fervently wishing his bed might have mercy upon him and become a portal to a land far, far away. It wasn’t the pounding headache that he wished to escape, nor was it the worried ponies standing outside his door, but the sound of running water that was his bane. Hooves, blankets, and now pillow was held firmly in place around his ears, but nothing could block out the steady downpour of the shower, nor could it wash away a young colt’s shame as he lay convinced his days as a coltfriend were over.

Certainly, the morning hadn’t started off half so terrible. Waking stretched out on the couch with Applebloom nestled in under his chin had stirred so deep an affection in the colt that for the first few minutes, the lumberjacks sawing an even line between the hemispheres of his brain in accompaniment to the roiling in his gut hardly even registered. Each quiet snore cause the filly’s bow that Rumble adored so much to gracefully brush his muzzle, and Rumble was helpless to do much else save lay motionless, filled to bursting with awe and wonder. He could remember the pounding of his heart, that moment his breath caught when she stirred and looked up at him with sleepy eyes, the slow smile and faint blush that bloomed upon her muzzle... and then...

“Rumble?” Brought back to reality by his brother’s gentle call, the colt immediately attempted to burrow deeper and curl up tighter, but the bedframe just couldn’t seem to appreciate the all-consuming embarrassment the colt had just endured, and so refused to allow him to meld into the woodwork. “Rumble, it wasn’t that...” Thunderlane paused as something solid made connection with the door with a loud thwack, followed by a clatter and a groan that was rightly discerned as one of utter misery.

“It kinda... really was that bad, Thunderlane,” Cloudchaser corrected, fortunately keeping her voice quiet enough that the stallion could at least hope Rumble hadn’t heard. “I mean, I know he’d never had done that on purpose, but still. Even I’d be pretty messed up if that’s what I woke up to at her age.” Flitter would have agreed if she were present, but the whole incident had made the mare incredibly embarrassed and she was currently awaiting some reassurance of her own within Thunderlane’s room.

“Yeah, thanks, Cloudchaser,” the stallion murmured with a sigh, not even paying her a glance as he tried to figure out a way to reassure his little brother that he hadn’t single-hoofedly brought about the end of the world, though given the magnitude of the disaster, Thunderlane wasn’t confident anypony would be able to do so. “Why don’t you go pry Flitter out of the closet or wherever she’s holed up while I try to, you know...”

“Tell Rumble it’s A-OK that he made a mess all over Applebloom? Right, yeah, have fun with that,” Cloudchaser teased, pausing a moment as she turned to leave. Huh, Thunderlane really is worried. Can’t say I blame him. I mean, it happened in front of everypony, Applejack included. While the mare was hoping for more than a slow sigh as she gently wrapped her hooves around her anxious stallion, Cloudchaser set her usual slew of sarcasm and good-natured prodding on the backburner, returning a portion of the love she received on a daily basis. “Don’t worry; if anypony can convince him that he hasn’t blown it...”

“Blown it?” Applejack interjected, trotting towards the bathroom. “Shoot, Cloudchaser, ‘blown it’ is puttin’ it nice like. That colt fair well exploded, an’ that’s a... fact.” Honesty was cut short by a glowering glare and a muffled groan from stallion and colt alike, and unlike her cousin who she still had to see off at the trainstation in just a few short hours, she knew when to keep her peace. Offering a muted apology, that mare continued down the hall where the water had just shut off while Thunderlane shook off doubt and nodded Cloudchaser off. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slow as he pressed on the handle and gently creaked the door open, peering into a darkened room.

“Rumble...” Thunderlane whispered, more to himself than the lump buried underneath the blankets. Noting that the shades had been pulled down to allow minimal sunlight into the room, the elder sibling quietly sat down beside the younger, prodding the lump gently with a hoof. “Bro? Hey, it’s going to be ok. Come on out, Rumble.”

“Nuh uh...” Thunderlane couldn’t help but cringe and wonder how so much misery could be packed into one little phrase. He couldn’t blame the young pegasus, really; if he’d done such a thing early on in his relationship with his fillyfriends, it would have been over, as well as his chances at bearing children in all likelihood. Still, this was Rumble, his brother, sweetest colt in Equestria, and Thunderlane wasn’t about to just throw up the white flag in his war on dejection.

“Rumble, you two went through a lot worse yesterday, and...”

“Nuh uh!” Rumble shot back, throwing back the covers to reveal his tear stained face. “There’s nothing that could possibly be worse than what I did this morning, Thunderlane! It was horrible!”

“Well, it probably wasn’t what Applebloom was expecting, no, but...”

“It’s not like I meant for that to happen!” he all but shouted, pounding the bed as he dropped his eyes to the bedding, too ashamed to lift his head. “She has to know that... It happened too fast, there was no warning at all! I just woke up, and... and...” Rather than dredging up none-too-distant memories by finishing the sentence, Thunderlane attempted to divert the seething colt’s attention elsewhere.

"There had to be some warning...” the stallion offered, knowing from experience after a few wild nights with his mares. “Usually, you can kinda feel if it's..."

"Yeah, there was warning; about half a second!"

"...that's a little quick, don't you think?"

"It's not like I'm proud of it, brother!" Rumble snapped back, glaring half-heartedly for a moment before noticing the raw concern written all over his sibling’s muzzle, and he again dropped his face back towards the tear-stained sheets. “Things were so crazy yesterday, and she was finally starting to have fun last night...” Rumble continued, his voice slowly losing it’s anger as frustration gave way to sorrow for having been the one to derail Applebloom’s all-too-short ride on the Carefree Express. “She was so crazy after she got into the cider...”

“It’s true I’ve never known a mare whose idea of a wild time involves trying to glue herself to random household objects...” Thunderlane said gently, hoping for a smile but gleaning nothing but a sullen nod from the downcast colt before him.

”If I had known what was gonna happen, I never would have let her sleep next to me, even though I really liked holding her...”

“Liked it so much ya just couldn’t keep it in, huh?” Applejack chimed in from the doorway, chuckling despite the pleading look on Thunderlane’s face. “Don’t look at me like that, Thunderlane, ah know yer brother is pretty tore up, an’ the only reason ah’m jokin’ ‘bout it is ‘cause he doesn’t need t’ be. Ah know mah sister, and ah’m sure she thinks it was worth it.” For the first time since the “incident,” Rumble showed some signs of life, sniffling as he peered back at the earth pony leaning casually against the doorframe.

“Do... do you really think so? Even after...”

“Shoot, sugarcube, she’s a farm pony; she’s used t’ bein’ covered in nasty,” Applejack laughed, taking a few steps inside and stopping by the bedside. “There’ll be trouble if you make a habit out o’ this, but ah reckon that won’t be an issue with you, Rumble. Now, don’t get me wrong, she’s may be a little cross fer a while, but she’ll calm down an’ be right as rain soon enough. Until then, just... try not t’ find yerself at the wrong end o’ the mallet, ya hear? Ah’d stay an’ help ya if ah could, but ah gotta... ugh, family... ah need t’ go.”

“Braeburn,” Silver clarified for the confused looks Applejack was getting, inducing pained understanding in all present. “He’ll probably be pretty chatty, what with the hangover he’s likely to have.”

“Serves ‘im right, gettin’ all pervy on another stallion durin’ dinner, an’ a taken one at that!” Applejack muttered, along with some other things nopony could quite make out.

“All right, sweetheart, come on,” her unicorn companion for life murmured, nuzzling her briefly before leading the way. “Thank you all for your hospitality and outstanding company, but we really must be off. I look forward to serving you and your fillyfriends at my tavern, be it for rest or revelry.”

“Are you kidding? Your brews are the best, and I’m pleasantly surprised Cloudchaser controlled herself,” Thunderlane chuckled, nodding his thanks. “It was great meeting you both. I expect we’ll see each other again soon.” With the company making their exit, he turned his attention again to Rumble who had barely managed a feeble wave. “I’m inclined to agree with Applejack, Rumble. You really are probably worrying too much.”

“I covered her in nasty,” Rumble answered flatly, folding his hooves across his chest.

“Yes, that you did...” Thunderlane conceded with a concealed grin, quietly amused with his brother’s stubborn refusal at comfort. “But, on the plus side, nothing you do now will seem quite so bad!” A few choice words came readily to Rumble’s mind in response to such a cheeky response, but the colt’s right to do anything other than grovel for mercy was revoked by the imminent approach of stomping hooves. Bowless, slightly damp, and by all accounts visibly peeved, Applebloom said nothing as she stopped at the doorway, her gaze piercing into Rumble’s soft hide. Paying Thunderlane absolutely no heed, Applebloom marched over, leapt onto the bed, and stopped with her face just inches from that of Rumble’s.

“Applebloom, I...”

“Yer gettin’ too wordy. Come ‘ere,” Applebloom barked, not giving the colt an option as she yanked him over and immediately began tousling his mane. Frightened for his wellbeing, Rumble offered no resistance, waiting a few moments before repositioning himself in a more comfortable position that gave Applebloom easier access. While the first priority for the colt was making sure Applebloom knew just how terrible he felt, he maintained his silence and noted with a glimmer of hope that her heavy sigh indicated the stress relief was working. Thunderlane quietly excused himself as their ritual continued, and eventually, the filly’s hoof slid down to the colt’s shoulders and pulled him into a firm though unthreatening embrace.

“I’m... really, really, really...”

“Talkative.”

“Uh huh. And sorry...” Applebloom slowly withdrew her hooves and took a moment to actually look at the colt. His eyes, or what she could see from the brief glances he was stealing her way, were rimmed red, and between the visible tear stains on the bedding and the downcast gaze, Applebloom found her justifiable fury feeling less and less justified.

Colt looks just about as miserable as ah was just a few minutes ago, maybe worse. Dang it, Rumble, why do ya gotta be so dang cute? “Honestly, what’s it gonna take fer me t’ get real upset with you an’ have it last longer than five minutes...” she murmured, shaking her head and meeting timidity with tough love, heavy on the love. “Ah fergive you, Rumble, but ah swear, if ah ever have t’ clean yer vomit outta mah bow again, you may as well ask the clinic fer a reservation.”

“I’m really, really sorry I puked on you this morning... It’s just... I’ve never drank before, so I didn’t expect that to happen! Even after Silver gave me the hangover cure, I still feel sick when I think about it...” It was penance enough for Applebloom, seeing her coltfriend so wholly apologetic for a mistake that, in all fairness, she knew he’d never have made if he had even the slightest control over the circumstances, and the filly gently covered his hoof with her own as he continued his lamentation. “I can’t think of anything more embarrassing...”

“Don’t try; in a few years, ah’m sure somethin’ even crazier is bound t’ happen,” Applebloom chuckled, her quiet laughter the salve for a troubled colt’s heart. “Now, first order o’ business is gettin’ mah bow back t’ Granny Smith so she can clean it proper. No offense, Rumble, but yer stomach doesn’t exactly smell like apple pie.”

“Nuh uh!”

“Phew! Neither does yer breath,” Applebloom teased, pulling a face and averting her muzzle. “Ordinarily, ah’d be right embarrassed t’ be seen without mah bow. Hay, maybe there’s somethin’ right relaxin’ ‘bout a nice face full o’ pony swill in the mornin’! Whatever the case, ah don’t feel too nervous right now, an’ ah’m grateful fer that, at least. Ah don’t... look funny, do ah?”

“Nuh uh!” Rumble quipped, shaking his head vigorously as he found the strength to grin. “I mean, it’s different. I’m not used to see you without it, but you’re still... still, um... beautiful.”

Now ah’m really in trouble. Apparently, he’s figured out some kind o’ magic word that makes everything ok. Dear Celestia, that made mah heart skip... “D-don’t go thinkin’ you can just talk yer way outta anythin’, ya hear?” Applebloom warned, glad Applejack wasn’t present to gauge the truthfulness of the statement. “Now, come on,” the filly continued, sliding off the bed and trotting to the door. “Ah’ve got a bow that needs launderin’, a weekend in desperate need of a little more fun, an’ a little less mess.”

“I’m never gonna live that down, am I?”

“Maybe when yer old an’ gray, an’ not a season before then! Now, enough chattin’! We got the whole day ahead o’ us, so let’s git goin’!” Thankful that a one time binge and subsequent upheaval hadn’t ruined what he hoped to be a lifelong friendship and more, Rumble paused just long enough to give Thunderlane a quick embrace before dashing out into the sunlit streets, eager to face a day full of possibility step by step with the filly just a few steps ahead.

Captain Forever

Chapter 18: Captain Forever

Okay, let’s see... Scootaloo peered at her reflection with pride, stepping back so she could see all of herself. My mane is brushed and styled with not a single strand out of place, my wings are preened and ready for anything... meaning flight, so don’t get any ideas! She took a moment to wave a cautionary hoof at her downy wings before dropping back to a radiant grin. I’ll bet he’ll be totally blown away by this. I sure hope so... I mean, it’d be really lame to go to all this work and have him just kinda ignore it... Facing her doubts head on, the filly couldn’t help but take comfort in an irrefutable fact: she was smoking hot.

While her mane could at times seem like the bushy, unkempt mohawk of some punk colt ready for a scrap, the filly took a few seconds to admire the length and shape that had been the result of nearly an hour of work. Her appearance would have sent her into a spaz no more than a few months back, but now, the filly beamed at the fiery eyes looking back. With her bangs swept to the left and held in place by her favorite clip and her ample mane on full display, straightened and reaching just passed her shoulders, she was well within her rights to be as confident as she was.

She’d never really had any love for makeup, but oh, how she secretly loved her dresses! She’d deliberated for longer than she cared to admit, finally deciding on one that she could at least hope Pipsqueak would see as something a “bonny lass” might wear to catch a captain’s eye. Woven of rouge silk with a white, lacy trim around the sleeves, the color nearly matched her mane and really lit up her eyes, a fact she hoped wouldn’t go unnoticed as she picked up the last piece of her ensemble and braced herself to brave the world not as the rough and tumble, nor as the weak and frail, but herself; strong, confident, and ready to rock the frills.

“Can’t forget the most important piece,” Scootaloo murmured to herself, picking up a folded rosen sash and trying unsuccessfully to tie a decent bow herself. Her hopes at escaping unseen came unraveled as she fumbled with the accessory, and amidst much muttering about understanding Sweetie Belle’s dislike for fabric and wondering how Applebloom ever managed to tie her bow, she cracked open her door and steadied herself. “Mom? I... can you come here for a second?” While the filly had projected by necessity, there was a softness in her voice that caused Grace’s ears to perk. Charging Quakehoof with the task of watching their brightly colored bundle of energy, Grace gave Hope a quick nuzzle before making all haste downstairs and startling the filly peeping through the cracked open doorway with her uncharacteristically mad scramble.

“Scootaloo, is everything alright?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine, it’s just... promise me you’re not gonna freak out.”

“Dear, it would be rather inappropriate for the one teaching you how to carry yourself with poise to lose her self-control at the drop of a hat. Come now, what is it you need?” Fairly reassured, Scootaloo slowly peeled back the door, and true to her word, Grace exerted every ounce of self-control contained within her highly trained mind not to shout with glee and wrinkle Scootaloo’s dress with copious huggles. “I suppose it goes without saying that I approve, but... may I please freak out?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No!”

“Just a little?”

“Ugh, fine! Just hurry up...” Shirking the weighty mantle of maturity just like her mother, Scootaloo rolled her eyes as Grace let out a giddy squeal of pure delight, all but dancing as she circled the filly and made inarticulate noises of approval that sounded too close to foal speak to be very flattering. Catching her daughter’s slack-jawed look of mirthless agitation, the mare coughed daintily as she reclaimed her regality and fell back into her usual tone.

“Ahem. Thank you for that, Scootaloo. I will remember your kindness. Now then, how can I be of assistance?”

“Good, you’re done. Now, hurry up and tie this,” Scootaloo commanded, holding up the sash as she quietly treasured her mother’s praise. Grace nodded and went about her work as Scootaloo quietly pondered how many others would likely respond the same way. Admittedly, Ponyville was rather rustic, and given that she could flaunt the dress she was wearing and still turn heads in Canterlot, she could only imagine what kind of reception was waiting for her outside.

“There, all finished! Tell me what you think,” Grace said in a soothingly demure tone, guiding Scootaloo’s eyes over to the mirror.

“I think I’m gonna be smothered in attention the moment I step out of the door,” Scootaloo chuckled nervously, not sure how she felt with the prospect.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less, Scootaloo.” Soothed by the calm confidence in her mother’s words, Scootaloo paid her thanks, took one last look at her room and the safe haven that it represented, and quietly closed the door along with any notion of ducking out. This step was one that she felt she needed to take not for her mother, nor Storm, nor even Pipsqueak, but for herself. Poised on the precipice of the unknown and swallowing the nervousness stirring within, Scootaloo stepped out into the late morning light, the very model of confidence on the outside and yet feeling as delicate as the smallest butterfly.

The first few minutes were frightening for the filly who irrationally expected every passing pony to pause for the sole purpose of poking fun at her, but the further into town she made it, the more whispers and murmurs of approval her ears picked up. You know, this whole girly gig isn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be. Every lesson, every seemingly pointless minute spent balancing books all came together to craft a mare exuding confidence with every calculated step.

Scootaloo glanced around her through calm, half-lidded eyes, noting the turned heads and relishing how each stunned whisper only served to compound the tremendous sense of purpose and strength that her mother had worked so hard to instill in her. Holding her head high and knowing she was as much herself as she was when acting the reckless tomcolt that wouldn’t be paid a second glance by most ponies, Scootaloo accepted, even embraced the anticipation welling within her chest as she thought about one colt in particular paying her the same respect.

“Whoa, you’re really pretty! When’d you get here, new girl?” Keeping in character would have been much easier had the one speaking been somepony she didn’t know, but as she turned and prepared to bat her eyelashes a little, she momentarily lost her cool as she found Snips staring starry eyed and quite literally drooling at her hooves.

“Snips, cut it out or you’re gonna get it tomorrow after class,” Scootaloo warned, taking a step back and double checking to make sure she hadn’t been given a saliva hooficure. After a few moments of absolute bafflement, the familiar voice registered in the colt’s mind, causing further breakdown of his already short-circuiting mental processes.

“Scootaloo? I... really? But... wow! When’d you get hot?” Warning the colt of his imminent pummeling with a growl, Scootaloo grew a little spooked by the way Snips didn’t take off running, but rather let out a long, airy sigh that was just too obvious.

“I’ve always been pretty. You’ve just been too blind to notice!” Scootaloo snapped, dropping back into old habits. “I swear, this is why I never showed an interest in anypony... you’re not even listening right now, are you?”

“Huwhaa?”

“Snips, you have five seconds to run for your life.”

“But I’m still lookin’ at you!”

“So help me, I will strip right here and beat you with your own hoof!” Scootaloo howled, confident that her tone had properly conveyed to the colt his tenuous grasp on life. However, she was met not with the sound of Snips scampering away to preserve his life, but the lovelorn stare of a colt without a shred of survival instinct.

“So, if I stand here for five more seconds, you’ll... strip?” Giving the ponies around quite a different reason to turn their heads, mare and stallion alike cringed as Scootaloo gave Snips a most regal pound to the face, flooring the colt and sending him skidding two full pony lengths away. Turning in a huff, Scootaloo resumed a noble gait and began to canter away, satisfied that her meddlesome classmate had learned his lesson. She hadn’t even made it ten steps before a grating voice caused her ears to shoot upright to accompany the fury burning in her cheeks as Snips did what no colt with an ounce of concern for his health would do.

“Wow, even your cutie mark is hot! I never noticed!” Slowly turning her head, Scootaloo began to tremble as she looked to find Snips gazing up her dress without a shred of dignity, himself too overcome with infatuation to be bothered with petty things like decency or etiquette. The adults present discretely averted their muzzles as Snips was repaid for his discerning eye with a justified drubbing.

“Still think I’m pretty?” Scootaloo barked, smoothing out her dress and running a hoof through her mane before peering down at Snips with a scowl.

“Uhhngh...”

“Right, that’s what I thought. Colts...” Scootaloo muttered darkly, stalking away as she sought to regain her composure. Sheesh, what the hay was that all about? It’s like he’s never freaking seen a filly before! Redirecting her attention to maintaining even steps, Scootaloo slowly felt the frustration begin to fade as she found a small amount of humor in the encounter, even admitting that she should likely apologize for possibly going a little overboard. “I’ll just say sorry tomorrow at school, and maybe ask if his nose is broken. Yeah, that should be good en- hey, what gives?” Blinded by a sudden flash, Scootaloo rubbed her eyes just in time to here the telltale click of a shutter and find her vision once again nothing but a veil of white.

“Hold it, right like that! Now, drop your hoof a little... perfect!” Scootaloo hadn’t meant to comply with the instructions of her assailant, but after being blinded a third time, she’d just about had it with whoever was messing with her.

“If I get blinded one more time there’s gonna be trouble!” Scootaloo shouted, holding a hoof over her eyes and waiting for her vision to restore. While no more light’s threatened temporary blindness, one annoyance was replaced by another, in this case the constant clicking of an over-active shutterhoof. “What the hay... Featherweight, what’re you doing?” Click. Click. Click click click click click. “Featherweight!”

“Hold it!” Click. “Got it, thanks! Keep talking, I’m listening.” Click. Click.

“Why in Equestria are you taking so many pictures of me?”

“I take pictures of everything, remember?”

“Well, yeah, but aren’t you burning a lot of film just on me?”

“It’s fine if what I’m capturing is perfection!” the colt quipped, raising his eyes above the camera just long enough to shoot Scootaloo a rosy cheeked smile.

“Oh, for the love of- stoppit! I don’t want to hear it!” Featherweight hung his head in disappointment, rejected before he even had a chance to try his tongue at poetry. His crestfallen features bid Scootaloo take a step back from the situation, and with a sigh she conceded to herself that maybe she wasn’t being entirely fair: she was dressed in her best, after all. Maybe I’m being a little too harsh. Featherweight’s never given me any trouble before, and at least he’s not looking up my dress. “Ugh, fine... just a few mo-” Click click click. Click. Clickclick.

“No, no no no, I’m out?” the colt wailed. “I can’t be out! Not with perfection just waiting to be captured! Film, I need film!” Scootaloo just shook her head as the colt haphazardly darted out of sight pushing speeds that were impressive for one that, by the look of it, wasn’t prone to any great measure of training. Amazed and a little more than slightly perturbed by all the attention, Scootaloo put her hoof down and promptly tempted fate. Fate took the challenge.

“Who else wants some, huh?” She soon regretted venting her frustration in a shout because, after a brief lull in the murmur of the crowd, a voice caused her to turn around and face the possible zombie uprising. One by one, colt and filly alike separated themselves and rushed over, slowly forming a half ring in front of a filly quite convinced that everypony had lost their marbles down a crevice of the frozen north.

“Um, hi. Have we met?” a shy looking colt began, tentatively taking a step forward before getting shoved out of the way by a rather posh looking filly she didn’t recognize.

“You’re, like, so totally gorgeous. We should be, like, bffs?”

“Are you single?” another colt piped up, only to immediately be tackled by the one standing next to him.

“Hey, I was gonna ask that!”

“Marry me!” Both colts laid aside their differences as a third threatened to ruin their claim over the ravishing beauty slowly backing away from the encroaching hoard.

“Don’t listen to him! Date me!” a filly squealed, tossing her mane with a hoof. “I’ll treat you right, better than any of those boys.”

“Just give me a chance!” another colt piped up, leaping ahead of the forward filly. “I’ll show you what it’s like to be with a proper gentlecolt.”

“Hey, didn’t you stand up Noi last week?” said the colt that had planned to skip the small stuff and move straight to the vows. Livid, the accused turned on the oppressed and started a rumble, at which point Scootaloo decided it was time for her to see how well she could flex her stealth in something as eye-catching as a dress. As dating offers piled high like pancakes at an all-you-can-eat buffet, Scootaloo frantically scanned the road for a decent place to hide, but instead her eyes settled on a slow-moving colt who hadn’t the slightest idea why half of the class was bowing before Scootaloo’s hooves. In a fit of pure desperation, the filly begged Applejack’s patience and pointed an accusing hoof at the passerby.

“You can’t have me! I’m dating Snails!” Of the myriad of frosty glares that were pointed his way, he found no time to be baffled as Twist trumped them all, glowering as she adjusted her glasses and demanded a very thorough and immediate explanation for Scootaloo’s claim. Or at least, that’s what he thought she was saying, so she made his position clear as she found herself standing at the head of the pack and quite honestly not caring if the others joined in or not; she was perfectly capable of delivering the sentence herself.

“You are tho... dead.” Cringing as a terrified wail escaped a colt who, in this case, had done no wrong, Scootaloo marked him down on the list of ponies she’d have to make up with after the whole fiasco died down and booked it out of the market, weaving through ponies with ease and not stopping until she was halfway to the other side of town. Eager to catch her breath, she made her way over towards a nearby bench and prepared to sit down. She took one look at the bench, then at her dress, and sullenly glared at the filthy liar that would offer her rest at the cost of her cleanliness.

“Somepony needs to freaking wash these things...” Scootaloo muttered darkly, whacking it with a hoof and immediately wishing she hadn’t as somepony’s day old ice cream smeared onto the underside of her hoof. “Could this possibly get any worse? What’s next, is...”

“Scootaloo? Is that-”

“No, it’s not, you can’t, I won’t, and unless you’re a delusional pirate that’s disappeared into thin air and left me to fight off rabid zombie ponies that can’t stop looking at my flanks, you never will, so just leave me alone!” Having dutifully laid out her pre-requisites for basic communication, Scootaloo whirled and gazed upon the first familiar face she’d seen all day like a dying pony might regard a nice Mai Tai floating down from the heavens in the middle of the desert. “S-Sweetie Belle? Oh, thank goodness!” Sweetie Belle wasn’t opposed to hugs, nor did she have any particular aversion to Scootaloo, but hugs from Scootaloo were few and far between, and that’s to say nothing of the fact that she was walking around in a dress in broad daylight, so Sweetie Belle was justifiably perplexed.

“Uh...” she began, gingerly bringing her hooves around the filly’s shoulders in a light embrace. “Rough day?”

“Rough? Rough?!? When are zombie ponies ever not rough?” she shouted, pulling away.

“Easy on the screaming, Scootaloo,” Sweetie Belle pleaded, holding a hoof over her ear as the ringing died down. “Take a seat and tell me what happened.”

“I am not sitting on that. I mean, have you even looked at that bench?” Scootaloo questioned, receiving nought but a blank stare from Sweetie Belle as she began to wonder if she’d somehow fallen into hibernation and woken a few months later, or if Scootaloo’s descent into germophobia had happened overnight. The filly was adamant. “Look at that bench. It is sooo not ok.” After taking a gander and realizing that she may have a point, Sweetie Belle took a look around and spotted Sugarcube Corner off in the distance.

“You look like you could use a drink.”

“Huh? No! I’m not doing the alcohol again, no way!”

“I meant like a milkshake,” Sweetie Belle corrected, chuckling as Scootaloo realized a guilty conscience had gotten the better of her and instantly ceased her rant.

“...oh. Ok, then. I guess I could use a break... but only if their seats are clean! I can’t get anything on this dress.”

“Gotta look perfect for Pipsqueak, huh?”

“Exactly! Wait, I didn’t mean...” Scootaloo started, making it two dainty steps after her friend before yielding to her friend’s all-too-knowing smile. “Well, sort of... maybe... yeah.” The filly once avidly opposed to the slightest hint of romance coming from her lips was forced to accept her friend’s jovial laughter as they made their way towards the sweet scent wafting from the local bakery. It wasn’t long before idle banter alleviated the tension of strutting the streets dressed to impress, and while Scootaloo couldn’t have known, Sweetie Belle was just as relieved to have found somepony to talk to as Scootaloo was to find a friendly face amongst the throng of starry eyed suitors for whom she held no interest. Swapping stories of the morning, Scootaloo found it to be slightly cathartic to hear she wasn’t the only one of her friends struggling in the romance department, and it took her but a moment to gloss over what could hardly qualify as a letter that had been left by Spike.

“That’s it?” Scootaloo exclaimed softly, shocked by brevity.

“That’s kinda how I felt,” Sweetie Belle agreed, allowing a rueful grin to spread as the filly double checked the back. “Nothing for me to go off of at all. It’s just a time and a place. I don’t know if it’s gonna be romantic, or sad, or... or anything else! I mean, how am I supposed to prepare for that?” Flipping the page around to find the opposite side blank just as Sweetie Belle had double checked several times that morning, Scootaloo set the page down and regarded Sweetie Belle with a strangely somber expression.

“I hate to say this, Sweetie Belle, and I mean really hate to say this, but you’ve been pretty hard on him ever since all this romantic whatever started. Maybe he just wants to be friends.” Not having an umbrella or anything else with which to shield herself from the sudden shift in weather, Scootaloo dove underneath the table to take shelter as Sweetie Belle burst into tears, though her sympathy was temporarily replaced by absolute confusion due to the total pony count in her makeshift shelter being over one and just a pony shy of three. “Pinkie? Why are you hiding under the table?”

“Huh? Why wouldn’t I be hiding under a table?” Incredulous and slightly offended at the filly’s disregard for a basic understanding of chimney logic, Pinkie Pie accepted her student’s nonexistent plea for apprenticeship and allowed Scootaloo access to her dojo, though as far as Scootaloo was concerned, she just didn’t want to get wet, and she could be housed with worse ponies than Pinkie Pie. “Now, young corn chip, ask your sensei another question.”

“Pinkie, I’m not...”

“Ask me a question! Oh, wait, do it in haiku!”

“Pinkie, as much fun as it would be to undo all of my mother’s lessons in a day listening to you talk, I’m not the one who needs attention right now!” Scootaloo urged, crawling over and placing a comforting hoof on Sweetie Belle’s leg. “Spike might be breaking up with Sweetie Belle, and-”

“He’s what?!?” Pinkie shouted in horror, surprise, shock, and disregard for gravity as she sent the table flying with a spectacular leap. It crashed down a few tables over, prompting the customers present to discretely show themselves to the door, though it was fairly obvious to Sweetie Belle that Pinkie wasn’t concerned about them. “Omigosh, this is absolutely terrible! No, wait, horrible! Bad? Those words aren’t bad enough to say how bad this is! It’s... it’s terribad! Horrawful! No, this is terrawfulbad!” Stunned from her bawling by a pink pony’s frantic antics, Sweetie Belle sniffed a little as Pinkie continued to search her imaginary dictionary for a word to properly suit the situation and gleaned a small dose of comfort from her genuine concern.

“Sorry, Sweetie Belle, I didn’t mean...” Scootaloo started as she drew up beside her crestfallen friend, falling silent as the filly vigorously shook her head.

“It’s not your fault,” she said softly, wiping her eyes on the back of her hoof before folding them in her lap. “I’ve been worrying about that all morning, and having to hear it really hurt. I think I know what’s bothering him now, though, and it’s thanks to you.”

“Really?” Scootaloo replied, slightly taken aback but hopeful as a rueful smile, small and unsure crept to Sweetie Belle’s muzzle. “All I can remember doing is making you cry.”

“You also told me I was being a huge pain to Spike, and you’re... totally right.” Readily accepting a much needed embrace, Sweetie Belle returned the motion and took a few seconds of silence to contemplate just how hard Scootaloo had hit the nail on the head. Sweetie Belle looked back over her actions the past week and found herself feeling silly at best, cruel and demanding at worst, and ashamed of herself either way.

“Ok, I’ve had about enough of the moping,” Scootaloo announced, releasing her hold and yanking gently, bidding Sweetie Belle slide unsteadily to her hooves. “You got too excited and messed things up; messing things up is what the Cutie Mark Crusaders do best! But like every other adventure that’s gone totally out of control, we always patch things up afterwards!”

“Gee, that’s encouraging,” Sweetie Belle muttered, letting slip a small laugh. Actually, it kind of is. We really do make a mess out of everything, so I’m not really out of place, and things have always turned out alright in the end...

“Instead of sitting here waiting for the world to end, why don’t you try and figure out a good way of saying you’re sorry for going love psycho? He really likes you, Sweetie Belle,” Scootaloo pressed, dropping to a softer tone as her confident words slowly raised sunken spirits from the depths. “Spike’s stuck with Twilight through thick and thin. I’m sure he’ll do the same for you!”

“For me? He’s already done way too much for me!” she quipped, brightening as a new idea began to form in her mind. “I spent this whole week just thinking about me! If anything, I should do something super duper special for him! Hey, Pinkie?”

“...a loatherendous crummybummer!” the mare finished, flopping down and looking even more dejected than the filly whose love life had been called into question. “Oh, what’re we gonna do, Sweetie Belle?”

“Do you think we could bake him something really special? I know he really likes sweets, so maybe-” Sweetie Belle began, dropping silent as Pinkie gave a loud gasp and a squeal of glee as she latched onto the idea and ran with it.

“...maybe if we whip up something super amazingly tasty, he’ll smother you in kisses and marry you!”

“Well, I wouldn’t really mind, but-” Sweetie Belle started, suddenly finding herself speaking to empty space as Pinkie zipped into the kitchen to be about her work straightaways. “I guess that takes care of my afternoon, then.”

“Right! Enough chit chat! I’ve got a pirate to wow, and you’ve got a week’s worth of mess to clean up. Now, I’m not the gossipy type, but I’m gonna be super curious to know how things go with you and Spike tonight, so let’s meet up at the tavern afterwards and swap stories.”

“That’s a great idea!” Sweetie Belle exclaimed, brimming with excitement. “I could invite Ruby and Applebloom, too! Speaking of which, have you heard from them today?”

“No, I’ve been too busy dealing with stuff. Tending to my mane, preening my feathers, picking a nice dress, evading suitors... puking: you know, girly things! Haven’t had time to find them,” Scootaloo replied, pulling a face. “If you’ve got the time, why don’t you try and track them down? Both of them had a pretty eventful day yesterday.” Sweetie Belle nodded in hearty agreement, and with their paths determined and their hearts set, Scootaloo watched Sweetie Belle disappear into the kitchen before she stepped out of Sugarcube Corner with the best of intentions and the highest of hopes... right into her crowd of avid fans. They had hopes and intentions, too.

I can’t believe this... Scootaloo’s eyes swept out over the crowd and found ponies of every race and gender staring back at her. I can’t just keep running; there’s no way I could lose that many of them! Come on, think... if I can’t beat the snot out of them or run away, what can I do? Her mother’s words danced across her subconscious, bringing with them the gentle reminder that all her training had been in preparation to stand on her own hooves, and the filly abandoned her hopes of a brother’s timely intervention, choosing instead to reach deep inside to draw out the strength that her mother assured her was there.

One by one, the voices hushed as Scootaloo closed her eyes, sweeping her hoof in a slow arc over her head as she balanced on her hind legs. There was no music to accompany her skilled hoofbeats as she began to dance, mesmerizing the frothing horde with every graceful, flowing motion. A tiny smile grew a little wider as the swish of her dress whispered softly with every coordinated motion, a host of ponies trained on every leap and every twirl. However, she could only handle so much classical dance, and with no music to restrict her movement, she slowly began to fuse traditional ponystep with a few more active moves of her own design.

A whistle sounded from somewhere within the crowd, followed by an encouraging shout, and then another, and another. Building in time with the complexity, Scootaloo felt a weight lifting as she created an unlikely fusion as stark as the contrast of her spirit, as delicate as she was fearsome. Leaping and kicking her hooves up, she balanced for just a moment on a single outstretched hoof as she spun, planting her hind legs and finishing with a beauteous double three-sixty flip, landing deftly and slowly bringing her hooves together over her chest, cracking open her eyes to see a sea of cheering ponies. The praise felt amazing, but the one pony she most wanted to hear calling out to her wasn’t among them. He was waiting for her somewhere, and the urgency bid her raise a hoof, shushing the crowds as the last lingering whistles died down.

“Thank you, everypony,” Scootaloo said, a tinge of bashfulness filtering into a voice wrapped in dignity. “I appreciate your praises, but if you are here in the hopes that you will catch my eye, then I’m afraid I must disappoint you. There is... already a colt who has my affection.” A collective groan rose from the crowd, but they seemed to understand, paying respect for respect as Scootaloo calmed them again, a sly smile spreading across her muzzle. “Fans, however, are always welcome. I happen to know that Featherweight has a great many pictures of me; he may be willing to part with a few if...” It worked like a charm, and ponies leapt left and right to evade being trampled under the stampede of many young hooves as the throng beat a path to the colt’s doorstep. “Huh, that actually worked?” Scootaloo mused, staring at the now empty space before throwing her head back and squealing with glee. “Hah! I so rocked that! Who’s the coolest lady ever? That’s right, it’s me! Yes!” Not seeing any reason she shouldn’t allow herself a little victory dance, Scootaloo continued her self-glorification until a familiar voice called out from behind.

“That... that was amazin’, lass...” A young heart leapt and fell at the words, a sudden nervousness bearing down on Scootaloo as she slowly turned to see none other than Pipsqueak standing by. She swallowed hard, unable to get a read on the colt as his piercing gaze seemed to penetrate deep into her heart.

He saw? I really, really wanted him to, but now that I know he has, I feel... scared. “H-hey, Pipsqueak.” The colt said nothing, neither turning away nor dropping his gaze. Of all the times he chooses to be silent... come on, say something! Anything! Even if it’s just pirate nonsense, it-

“Ye make a fine show girl. Aye, that ye do...” Such praise should have sent the filly into a giddy fit of giggles, but there was such a heavy weight of finality behind them that it only churned the dread already boiling within. “It’s little wonder all yon ponies threw themselves at ye. Grace, beauty, an’ all the danger of a harpy; ye could melt any colt’s heart...”

Everything he’s saying should be making my day, so why... why do I feel like crying? A pang of worry lanced through the filly as the colt slowly dropped his gaze and began to walk away. “Pipsqueak? Hey, where’re you going?” He walked a few more steps before pausing, his head turning back for just a moment before sinking a little lower.

“Ye’ve made yer choice, lass, an’ that’s fine. Ye make... a fine lady. Too fine fer the likes o’ this... foal.” There was loathing in a hollow voice as he named himself among the weak and helpless before beginning to walk away once more.

“I... don’t understand...” It was all Scootaloo could say at first, her mind reeling and her heart sinking with every step he took away. She didn’t feel the strength, she didn’t have a plan, but she knew she couldn’t let whatever was happening at that moment continue. “Pipsqueak, wait!” she called after him, scrambling to catch up, but as she drew near he increased his speed a little and refused to look her in the eye. “What’s gotten into you? You’re acting really weird!”

“Weird? Oh, aye, an’ prancin’ around in front o’ the local sweets shop part o’ yer daily routine, I’m sure!” he snapped back, accelerating to a brisk trot.

“You said you liked my dancing!” Scootaloo countered, matching his pace and stifling a growl as he broke into a gallop.

“I do!”

“So what’s wrong with me being girly, then?”

“Nothing!”

“Well, then why are you being such a pain in the flanks about it?!?”

“I’m not!”

“Stop running from me!”

“Running is all I know how to do!” Even if the colt hadn’t ground to a skidding halt and whirled on her with glassy eyes, just the words were enough to stop Scootaloo in her tracks. “I’m not your captain anymore! I’m not fit to be anypony’s captain, so just... just leave me alone!” A cry, soft and nearly inaudible, escaped from Scootaloo’s lips as the words sunk in slowly like a dagger digging ever deeper into an open heart. It was a moment of frightening clarity where no words were spoken, but nonetheless much was said. Scootaloo could see a pain she’d never been shown clouding once gentle brown eyes. What had been spoken wasn’t at all what the colt now sprinting away had wanted to say. She knew that, but it still hurt. It hurt for both of them.

“You... stupid idiot...” Scootaloo grit out, despising the frequency with which she seemed to be shedding tears. Mom, if I’m supposed to be getting stronger, then why the hay do I... feel so weak right now? All it took was just a few words for me to... A gentle hoof draped around the filly’s quaking shoulders, who gratefully accepted the embrace, not even bothering to look and see who it was that was holding her; she already knew, and a familiar voice confirmed her suspicions.

“I knew you were capable of driving ponies mad, sis, but sheesh! Causing a pony an identity crisis just by dancing?” Scootaloo pried her face from a dark coat just long enough to shoot her brother a warning glare, but despite his casual tone there was sympathy in his gaze.

“Your hotness is weapon’s grade, sport,” Rainbow Dash said softly, offering a sheltering wing as together she and Storm hedged in the disheartened pegasus with a healthy dose of familial support. “I knew your future coltfriend had some issues, but it seems they aren’t just with his imagination.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Thanks for the news flash, Dash...” Scootaloo muttered, sniffing as her obligatory eye roll confirmed that there was still enough life within her to show some sass. Storm and Rainbow Dash stepped aside as orange hooves gently pushed them away, and they held a respectful silence as Scootaloo took a few more moments to compose herself. “I’m angry. Part of me wants to pound his face in right now for being so freaking dense, but I also want to help him through whatever crud he’s dealing with.”

“Sounds like an average day for me,” Dash teased, smiling pleasantly while Storm pulled a face. “So, you’re gonna go hunt him down, right?”

“As if I’d just let him run away like that? No way!” Scootaloo fired back, not with as much force as she would have liked, but the confidence was there. “He at least owes me an explanation for why he ran off like that, and... he could probably use a hug or... something.”

“Don’t ‘something’ too much, or Storm will have to give you both a talk,” Dash chortled, winking at her number one fan.

“Indeed.” Smirking from behind a half-lidded gaze of intense satisfaction as both of the girls shuddered from the perfect mimicry of his father, Storm eschewed his sarcasm as he took a few steps forward, his expression growing serious. “So, you’re going to chase after him, then?”

“That’s right!”

“Well, then, you’d best hurry over to the clinic.”

“The clinic?” Scootaloo said slowly, tilting her head slightly. “Why the hay would I go there? I need to find Pipsqueak, not get a band-aid for my hurt feelings.”

“So, he hasn’t told you?” Slightly baffled moved to abject confusion laced with worry, and Storm let slip a slow sigh, closing his eyes for a few moments before wearily lifting his gaze back to his sister’s. “Pipsqueak seems to have a thing against talking about anything normal, so I guess it makes sense he wouldn’t have mentioned it...”

“What? Mentioned what, Storm?” Scootaloo pressed, unable to keep the anxiety from her voice as she peered up at her brother with pleading eyes.

“Scootaloo, Pipsqueak lives at the clinic.”

“H-he... he what?” she stammered, her eyes wide in disbelief. “But... but he’s seems perfectly healthy! He’s not sick is he? Does he have some disease, or-”

“Scootaloo!” Storm barked, raising his voice just enough to capture the frantic filly’s attention. “He’s not sick, Scootaloo, he’s... he’s an orphan.” It was a moment of imperfect clarity for Scootaloo. While it didn’t give her any explanation for what had just happened, it was still a revelation that changed everything and wiped away every last ounce of agitation from her heart, leaving only the singular desire to be the shoulder Pipsqueak could cry on. She didn’t know what to expect, didn’t have any clue as to why the colt had thrown away a title that Scootaloo respected even if nopony else did, but she wasn’t about to let him hide, and she certainly wasn’t about to let the most awesome captain she’d ever met face the tumultuous tides of life by himself: no lookout would.

It wasn’t long before Scootaloo stood poised before the doors to the clinic, panting for breath. Given all the time she’d spent with Pipsqueak over the last week, she’d have assumed that his living conditions would have come up at least once in casual conversation, but then again, their conversations were usually the farthest thing from “casual.” Forcing herself to regulate her breathing, Scootaloo pressed open the doors and made straight for the desk where nurse Softheart sat looking as dejected as Scootaloo thought she probably should. “Um... excuse me, but is... Pipsqueak here?”

“Huh? Oh, um, well, yes he is,” the nurse stammered out, appearing slightly shocked for a moment before returning to being down in the dumps for the very reason that Scootaloo was there. “Poor dear came home just a few minutes ago. Didn’t say anything to anypony, just ran straight to his room and slammed the door. He must be terribly upset...”

“I’d really like to see him. May I please?”

“Certainly. I’ll show you to his room.” Scootaloo began to follow before slowing to a stop, glancing down at herself.

“Softheart, does... does Pipsqueak hate dresses?”

“Um... no, dear, not that I’m aware of,” the mare replied, bemused. Scootaloo gave this a moment of thought before deciding that she’d rather not take the chance, and began to strip down, causing a few awkward looks and a murmur here and there. At the sound of a very nasal chuckle, Scootaloo turned to find Snips with a cold compress held onto his snout with one hoof and the other on his cheek as he dreamily stared straight at Scootaloo without an ounce of shame, though retribution was unnecessary. Too enraptured by the delight of a personal show, the colt had unknowingly begun to lean forward, and with both hooves taken he fell with a splat out of his chair, moaning loudly as his nearly fractured snout took another hit.

“Dude, I’m hot. Deal with it,” Scootaloo stated with mild contempt, shaking her head and gathering up her dress with a sigh of exasperation. “Could you possibly hold onto this for me?”

“Yes, I’ll keep it right over here,” Softheart assured her, stowing it in one of the desk drawers and, after motioning one of the nurses to tend to the colt’s bloody nose, beckoned Scootaloo to follow. Some time to think would have been as welcome as suddenly being buried with Pipsqueak in a mound of warm blankets, but that fantasy, brief and toasty warm, did soon depart as they arrived at a door like any other, adorned only with a number and nothing more. “It’s been quite some time since I’ve seen him this upset. I don’t know what’s happened, but please cheer him up. He’s a gentle soul.”

Gentle soul? Scootaloo watched the mare go back to work, pondering her words. Just how much do I not know about you, Pipsqueak? How many masks do you wear? I just have the one... There really wasn’t any way for her to prepare for what awaited her on the other side of the door, but if there was ever a valid reason to be rash, facing her fears with reckless abandon seemed legitimate. It was but a small motion to depress the handle and swing open the door, but crossing the threshold felt like a free-falling leap of faith.

Her eyes didn’t even make it to the ashen-faced colt sitting immovable on a stiff, uncomfortable cushion of a drab green hue that could hardly be called a mattress, before her spirits fell. For Pipsqueak, a pony that she had learned was one who thrived on adventure and boundless imagination, the bleak, white walls had to seem like nothing short of a pristinely kept prison cell. Even the usual allotment of health care items had been removed, leaving the countertop clear. It wasn’t too much of a stretch to assume that the cupboards were just as barren as the room, and as she turned towards the bed, her gaze came to a rest upon somepony of whom her preconceptions were melting away like dross. Something flashed by her periphery and she turned towards the window outside, but after finding nothing, Scootaloo steadied herself and climbed up beside Pipsqueak, taking a seat as she searched for something to say.

“Pipsqueak?” She should have expected he’d say nothing, but the silence still hurt. “Um... do you hate dresses... or something?” He’s still not saying anything... Scootaloo let her gaze fall to the sheets, desperate to find something to say to make everything better but finding no verbal siege tower with which to breach the walls. I’m not going to leave until you’re better, Pipsqueak. If that means I have to stay here all freaking afternoon, then dang it, I will! I’ll stay... as long as it takes.

Ticks led to tocks and seconds led to minutes as two young ponies watched in quietude as afternoon turned to early evening. Scootaloo was resolute, but inaction wasn’t something the filly did well, and as golden light began to shift in hue, she turned towards Pipsqueak, scooted closer, and slowly wrapped her hooves around the hurting colt. “I’m here for you.” Ugh, that was lame... Could I possibly be anymore cliché? Geez, when did I get so sappy...

“...ye sure are clingy, lass.”

“Gah! Sorry!” Scootaloo yelped, withdrawing her hooves and blushing hard. Pipsqueak blinked his heavy eyelids once, paying her the briefest glance before speaking again, just a tad quieter.

“I didn’t say I minded...” Trembling and not quite sure if she felt more embarrassed, excited, relieved, or anxious, Scootaloo slowly reached forward for another embrace when the colt spoke again.

“Ye gettin’ sweet on a retired captain?”

“Make up your mind! Do you want me to be mushy or not?” Scootaloo yelled, throwing her hooves wide and scowling for a few seconds before shushing herself and holding both hooves over her mouth. Regardless of the weak sarcasm that had been pointed her way, the answer to her question was painfully clear, and slightly embarrassed both of herself and the situation, Scootaloo hesitated a moment before reaching forward a third time and wrapping Pipsqueak in a loose embrace. A pulse of excitement entirely out of place with the tone shot through Scootaloo’s body like lightning as Pipsqueak leaned in, pressing back and resting his head against her chest.

“Heh...”

“What?”

“Yer heart’s beatin’ like a bongo.”

“Your face is gonna be a bongo...” Scootaloo snapped back half-heartedly, her pride unable to stir up enough agitation to overcome the maelstrom of emotion taking her and her captain on a merry little cruise on the choppy seas of desire.

“What’re ye on about? It’s the colt’s job t’ be the romantic...” Scootaloo purposed to pull away and re-educate the colt on the proper meaning of romantic with the back of her hoof, but the moment she shifted her weight, two painted hooves shot out and held her tight, the action in complete contradiction of the snarky confidence with which Pipsqueak was teasing her. The unexpected contact completed what was lacking in the delicate pink coloring her cheeks, her heart skipping like a playful ram traversing the rocky spire of romance with every bit as much grace as her hooves contained. As much as she didn’t want to spoil the moment, she needed to know what she did wrong so she could make a point of not doing it again, so she dropped her muzzle to look at him and promptly got a nose full of his mane.

Hmmm, smells like weeds and sweat. Terrific. A tickling hair caused an involuntary snort, which was actually quite timely for Scootaloo as it gave her a good reason not to think about the fact that she not only didn’t mind, but also found it to be a strangely pleasant mix. It smelled like adventure, adventure was hot, and by proxy that made Pipsqueak hot and she really, really didn’t want to be thinking about that while she was holding him tight lest certain downy appendages prepare for takeoff. “So...” she began, pausing to curse her olfactory senses and the completely unacceptable glee they were gleaning from a scent that could likely be replicated by running a push mower over an athletic water buffalo, “what did you mean when you said that all you knew how to do was to run away?”

No, no no no, don’t clam up! Scootaloo could feel the muscles in the colt’s shoulders tense as soon as the question left her mouth. As she feared, no words were spoken, and she fumbled desperately to try and alleviate the tension she’d just heaped onto an otherwise touching, if not slightly embarrassing, moment for the two of them. “I mean, sure, you couldn’t rock that dress like me; you’ve tried, I know, but...” Scootaloo exclaimed with transparent confidence, her nervous chuckles drying up like water from a bottle dripping onto pavement in the dead of summer. Painted hooves pulled away and a gentle tug bid Scootaloo relinquish her hold, and she laid aside her failed attempts at levity as deep concern gripped her heart found Pipsqueak averting his muzzle. “I’m sorry, I know that wasn’t that funny! Just wait, I’ll think of... something?”

“...look in there.” Following his outstretched hoof, Scootaloo slid off the bed and pulled out one of the lower drawers. Inside she found what she’d expect to see: an eye patch, a sharp looking bandana, a well-worn vest, and the pirates fearsome blade. Confused, Scootaloo turned around only to find the colt’s hoof had dipped slightly lower, pointing to the next. It was empty. One by one, she quietly turned out all of them until coming to the last where she found a small bag which, at Pipsqueak’s nod, Scootaloo gingerly loosened the drawstrings and peered inside. Being an honest sort, not prone to just up and stealing whatever caught his eye, Pipsqueak had found very little “treasure,” as it were: a few vaguely sparkly rocks, a wooden carving of a pony he’d found in the fields, and a few bits worth of petrified wood.

“That’s it?” Scootaloo murmured, turning towards Pipsqueak with a puzzled look that swiftly shifted to one of apology as she cringed, covering her traitorous tongue and the muzzle wherein it lay with a hoof. Pipsqueak shuddered a little, saying nothing as he slowly lifted his hoof towards the cupboards up above. Drawing the strings and gently closing the drawer, Scootaloo climbed onto the counter and opened the doors, expecting emptiness but instead finding many a burnt wick. A single lantern and candles innumerable filled the confined storage space. She didn’t want to ask, but she needed to understand, and with worried eyes she closed the doors and turned to face the colt who couldn’t find the strength to do the same.

“It’s pathetic... isn’t it?” Scootaloo didn’t think so, but it was clear that Pipsqueak was of a different mind as he bowed his head in shame. “If a pirate’s worth is measured by the treasure in his coffers, then I wouldn’t even make deckswab with that lot...” It wasn’t until he dropped his brigand’s dialect that Scootaloo realized how comforting it could actually be.

“So you’re not rolling in bits and baubles; who cares?” she declared, punctuating her point with a light stomp of her hoof. “That just goes to prove you don’t need money to have awesome adventures!” Skeptical brown eyes that wanted to believe slowly looked upon those of an honest filly who couldn’t possibly know the depth of pain reflected in wearied eyes. “There’s more to this, isn’t there...” He looked away again, nodding slowly. “Don’t be scared to tell me anything. I mean it.”

“I... I’ve...” Pipsqueak tried to begin, faltering. “...I’ve always been small,” Pipsqueak managed after taking a deep breath, his voice soft but carrying with it a burden borne over many years. “I... I don’t have wings, I can’t use magic, I’ve got a blank flank, and for an earth pony, I’m... weaker than most...”

“So what?” Scootaloo interjected, missing the colt’s point entirely. “It’s not like your height is gonna determine who you are, and everypony finds their Cutie Mark eventually. Why are you even-”

“I’ll tell you why!” Pipsqueak suddenly shouted, shattering the tranquility and quelling Scootaloo with a single, tear-ridden glance. “I’m scared of everything, ok? I’m scared of the dark, scared of other ponies, scared of new places, and back in Trottingham, everypony knew! I couldn’t take ten steps without being teased or called names! I spent every single day hiding in my room, only leaving when I had to because I knew the moment I stepped outside, something or somepony would make me cry...”

It’s over... there’s no way she’ll be my friend after this. Yelling at her like it’s her fault, crying like a foal... Pipsqueak dropped his muzzle to his hooves, the strength to stay upright too much to ask of his weary body as the conviction that he’d just severed himself from Scootaloo’s interest laughed at him from afar, along with every other colt and filly that had crushed him under their hoof. With nothing left to lose, Pipsqueak continued to, in his eyes, dig himself deeper.

“I promised... promised myself I’d do better when I moved to Ponyville. I wanted to make friends, but I hid from my classmates. I tried to be brave, but I couldn’t... couldn’t even sleep without a candle by my bedside unless somepony else was in the room. It wasn’t... wasn’t until one of the nurses got me the pirate costume for Nightmare Night that things started to get better. Hiding like that, I felt like I could do anything! I was expected to be scared, and so was everypony else! For once, I... didn’t feel like a fraidy cat. I didn’t want to go back, and pirates are brave, so I... became one. But it’s not real, nothing changed, and I’m... still afraid...” At the end of his tale, the colt hung his head and closed his eyes, unable to peer back at a filly too stunned to speak. “Who would ever want to be friends with... with this?”

It was rhetorical. Pipsqueak knew there just wasn’t any way, even in his wildest dreams, that a filly as stunning in both charm and vigor as Scootaloo would ever find this sobbing heap, the real Pipsqueak, worth her time, so he buried his muzzle and resigned himself to wait for the sound of retreating hoofbeats and the suffocating silence that would follow. Movement on the counter sent the bubbling nausea into a frenzy, but it wasn’t the echoing clip clop of hooves on tile flooring that came next, but vibrations in the bed that indicated Scootaloo was coming closer. He didn’t dare look up; he wasn’t worthy.

“Sit up.” Pipsqueak didn’t stir, but Scootaloo was feeling a little more than slightly impatient. “I said sit up,” Scootaloo commanded quietly, cuffing the colt lightly and jarring him enough to lift his head. “Listen, this is really, really simple, Pipsqueak. I told you to sit up, not stare blankly at me. Hurry up.” Pipsqueak was positively puzzled, but having no clue what to make of the filly’s behavior was better than being left alone, and with a sniffle the colt eased himself into a sitting position and looked back at the filly before him through weary eyes, wondering what she could possibly be thinking.

“If you tell anypony I told you this, I’ll have to hurt you,” Scootaloo said softly with a weak growl. “For a long time, I was scared of a lot of things too. I didn’t really let my dad help at all, and it wasn’t until Storm came back that I finally started to get any better, but you... you’ve been facing your fears for years without anypony to depend on. If that’s not the most freaking amazing show of strength ever, I don’t know what is. And... and that’s why I...” Her hair swished in front of her face as she dipped her muzzle, let slip a small sigh, and presented herself as nakedly as the colt before her: no walls, no masks, just Scootaloo. “I want to be the one to help you face your fears, just like Storm and Rainbow Dash have done for me, and I... I want you to be my captain... forever.”

There were many facets of ladyhood that Scootaloo had learned, most of which were in direct contradiction to her modus operandi. Gentleness, temperance, patience, dignity: the list could go on, but Scootaloo was done hiding. Her captain had displayed himself in terrible weakness, the act itself a feat of strength worthy of song from a more trained voice than Scootaloo could claim, but traversing new horizons often yielded great rewards for those who survived, and Pipsqueak’s breath caught as Scootaloo leaned forward into a kiss, tender and more delicate than a butterfly. Neither could have anticipated the blaze that took them both, wrapping in comforting flames of long-restricted passion, and one filly’s heartfelt kiss extended longer than planned as both found it difficult to leave such bliss, back into a world of worries and doubts. So... they didn’t.

Dizzy from the rush, Pipsqueak easily caved as Scootaloo pressed forward, unwilling to stem the flood of desire she’d imagined she’d likely never experience, given her aversion to all things romantic, though she found enlightenment to be sweeter than honey as she followed Pipsqueak down, not tainting the simple motion with an invasive tongue but relishing the simplest act of romance for every tingle that raced through her being. It wasn’t until she felt her wings spread that she pulled away, her face painted a vivid rosen hue not from shame or embarrassment, but adoration for the delicious hunk of colt that was too awesome to resist. Fortunately, the call of adventure was pretty strong too.

“As... awesome as that was, I... I... geez, you’re a good kisser,” she muttered, having only moderate success in regulating her breathing. “Storm would kill us if he saw something like that, so let’s, um... only do that every now and then, ok? Oh, right, and you kinda need to ask me out now, or I’ll have to pound you into oblivion, so let’s get that out of the way and go adventuring.”

“That... wasn’t adventurous enough?” Pipsqueak said quietly, a smile slowly edging in as shame was overthrown.

“No, it was dangerous, and I liked it,” Scootaloo shot back, grinning widely. “But I can’t be a lady like that all the time. I’d get all antsy! Now, ask me. Quick, before somepony catches us and I have a whole heap of explaining to do.” Seeing the colt smile again nearly brought on another bout of “girliness,” but Scootaloo managed to contain herself as Pipsqueak nodded his understanding.

“Would ye kindly take this sorry excuse for a captain fer a lover as well... Scootaloo?”

“I... totally do.”

“I didn’t ask ye t’ marry me, lass.”

“Same thing. I’m not letting you break up with me ever, so your fate is officially sealed!” she declared, adopting a proud smirk as her clever scheme came together. “Now, there’s still just enough time to kill a few monsters before night falls and we head to the tavern. Come on!” Revitalized, Pipsqueak set about to oblige his maiden’s request, but as he reached for the vest, an orange hoof stayed his own, reaching instead for the blade.

“You don’t need to hide completely with me by your side, you know,” Scootaloo said softly, pulling out the blade and laying it before the mystified colt. “Besides, I’d like to get to know... the other Pipsqueak a little bit better.” Genuine gratitude prompted Pipsqueak to take a tentative step closer, and Scootaloo’s already wildly beating heart raced just a little faster as she allowed just a little more mushiness, returning the colt’s embrace. A sudden thump made them both jump apart, Scootaloo to prepare an adequate defense and Pipsqueak to ready his blade, but neither actions were necessary as they turned to find a pair of worn boots arrayed in the fading sunlight.

“After all the trouble I went to swipin’ a decent pair o’ boots fer me favorite captain, he decides he’s too proper fer clothes? Tis heartbreakin’, lad,” a familiar voice called from the window, and Scootaloo paled as she realized that some or all of her little foray into the wonderful and mushy had been witnessed by one of Storm’s close friends.

“G-Gale? B-but... when did...”

“Calm down, lass, ye got nothin’ t’ fear from me,” the stallion chuckled, beaming in through the window that had been nothing short of foal’s play to open from the outside. “Pipsqueak, ye found a treasure greater than any jewel or coffer could ever supply, an’ ye made great sacrifice t’ hold onto it like ye should. I’m proud of ye, mate. Scootaloo, ye finally realized you’re a filly, so I suppose ye deserve some congratulations as well. Don’t worry, I won’t tell Storm.” Heaving an audible sigh of relief, Scootaloo took her place by Pipsqueak’s side as Gale brought things to a close.

“Pipsqueak, I have something t’ discuss with ye, but it’s best not t’ keep any lass waitin’. I’ll find ye in the tavern tonight, but until then, rest assured that there will always be somepony to guide ye through any fear, great or small. Take good care o’ each other, both of ye.” Bowing his head, Gale closed the window and started back towards his own mare, no doubt waiting anxiously to hear the news that could likely have made even the crippled pegasus fly. As the commodore made his retreat, Pipsqueak eagerly stepped into the one accessory he’d always dreamed of having. Made of a now dingy brown faux leather with a swashbuckling dash of red trim, the boots were everything Pipsqueak had hoped they’d be and more. Having previously belonged to Gale, they were worn and scuffed from many a daring feat, sparking an imagination that knew no bounds with every nick and scratch. With the comfort of his long practiced persona and the support of his newly appointed first mate for life, Pipsqueak turned to Scootaloo with a challenging grin and just one question on his mind.

“Ye ready for some adventure, lass?” Deftly swiping the captain’s blade in answer, Scootaloo tore out of the room and barreled through the clinic, weaving around nurses and carts and that poor pony ironically named Lucky that made Rumble look like a graceful ballerina with his frequent near-death experiences. Pipsqueak was hot on her trail, and the duo burst out of the clinic and into the streets lit by golden evening rays, filled with freedom and a bond that deepened with every fictional foe vanquished and every whisper shared in the dawn of Luna’s night.

Irresistible Shine

Chapter 19: Irresistible Shine

It really was a beautiful morning. There weren’t many clouds, which was good because every warming ray of dawn was welcome on such a brisk morn, and Ruby found herself unable to keep from happily humming to herself as she cantered alongside her own little bit of bespectacled sunshine. Whether she was just in an inexplicably good mood or she really was falling victim to the air of love pervading the town, given that being so close to Silver Spoon had suddenly become enthralling in its own right, Ruby couldn’t say for sure, but she was okay with that. She told herself that she didn’t mind taking her time to enjoy the discovery of her friendship with Silver Spoon bit by bit, though that wasn’t to say there wasn’t a certain curiosity surrounding the whole subject, and Ruby did not like being curious.

Her desire to understand the strange pangs of excitement, occasional breathlessness, and even nervousness that had seemingly developed overnight wasn’t so overpowering that they were all she could think about, but neither could she fully ignore them, and as she walked, talked, laughed with and sometimes at her endearingly snooty friend, she found herself beginning notice things: things she liked. For instance, every time Silver Spoon reached to adjust her glasses, it seemed to be coupled with a half-hearted glare, only to be followed with a loosely veiled grin. Sure, the first time it happened, Ruby didn’t think anything of it, but by the time they were halfway to their destination, it had begun to make her heart... do things. Silly things, like racing and skipping. It was confusing.

From there, it was just one thing after another. Ruby hadn’t really thought much about what physical traits she found attractive in another pony, filly or colt, but it seemed like every laugh doubled as a secret whisper, guiding a flustered young unicorn’s eyes to notice some other nuance she hadn’t before. Already exasperated with her mind’s stubborn refusal to curb her thoughts, Ruby caved to the intoxicating warmth rising in her cheeks, fell a few steps back, and allowed herself a couple of moments to stare. It was exhilarating, it was gratifying, and, as Silver Spoon turned to wonder why the hay she was being regarded with googly eyes, Ruby found it was incriminating, embarrassing, and inexplicable as well.

“Is something the matter?” Silver Spoon asked, bemused by the filly’s odd behavior.

“It’s nothing!” Ruby immediately shot back, proceeding to cover her muzzle with a hoof for being needlessly loud to the point that her voice had squeaked. Nothing, however, was indeed quite a monumental fib, for it was at that moment that Ruby’s eyes were opened to just how desirable a filly Silver Spoon was, and in that moment of dawning comprehension, when her head and heart aligned for just a few sweet seconds of honesty, Ruby found herself unwilling to look away. Her eyes are... really pretty, especially with the sun hitting them.

“Ruby?”

The way she wears her mane is so unique. It’s really fashionable, but really functional at the same time! It’s gotta be really full, too. I wonder what she’d look like without that scrunchy?

It’s like she’s off in her own little world or something. I know she can be excitable sometimes, but she’s never spacy, not like this. What’s gotten into her? “...are you even listening?”

“Woooow...” Not as articulate as “No, I’m too busy pinpointing all of your greatest assets,” but it still did the trick, and as much as Ruby would have liked to look a little longer at the radiant grin slowly tugging at the corners of her friend’s muzzle, something told her that her little indulgence had been noticed. “The sun! It’s, uh, really really bright! Yeah, ouch, don’t, um... don’t look at it,” Ruby stammered out, trotting ahead and thanking Celestia for such a light coat to hide the furious burning in her cheeks.

“You’re acting suspicious,” Silver Spoon stated with faint amusement, trotting after her and quickly catching up.

“Am not,” Ruby denied, proud of herself for sounding confident.

“You’re right, there’s nothing strange at all that you’ve found a sudden fascination with my rump.”

“Nope,” Ruby quipped, trotting another few steps before stopping cold and standing ramrod stiff. “Wait, n-no! I meant no interest! Stop smiling like that!” Ruby shouted desperately, digging herself deeper with every attempt to climb out of the pit she had dug. Why the hay am I getting so flustered? This is so frustrating! I’ve got to pull it together... hey, there’s a heart in her Cutie Mark? That’s so cute! No, no cute, it’s just...

“Are you coming?”

“Y-yeah!” Ruby called out, kicking up dust as she sprinted the short distance to Silver Spoon’s side and came skidding to a halt beside her as she waited. “Not a word from you, Spoony,” Ruby warned, waving a hoof at Silver Spoon who gave a nonchalant shrug and kept walking, thankfully leaving Ruby to do the same. Geez... what the hay has gotten into me? I can’t possibly be falling for her... can I? Her mane swished in front of her face for a moment as she slowly shook her head, letting slip a quiet sigh as she did so. Ugh... I know I don’t need to know if I like her or not right this second, but it’s really hard not to think about! Especially now that I know she’s cute, AND good looking! How am I supposed to ignore that?

The thought that perhaps she wasn’t meant to ignore such things did occur to her, and while it was nearly immediately dismissed as sheer craziness, she let the notion linger in the back of her mind, mulling it over as she went. Her friendship with Silver Spoon was as unexpected as the rash of strange emotions convoluting the enjoyment of her morning trot, but Ruby wasn’t just some whimsical filly drifting wherever the winds took her. Watching her mother waste lonely nights in a drunken stupor had impressed upon Ruby that more than any amount of attraction, there had to be a bond stronger than the troubles of life before she were to step into any kind of relationship deeper than simply being friends. She had to be sure that, no matter what, she wouldn’t end up alone, and with her mind made up and her heart calm, she resumed her merry humming, eager to watch for a sign. If Silver Spoon wanted her, she’d have to win more than just her eyes.

Playful banter resumed as Ruby found her peace, and the rest of the trip passed pleasantly and uneventfully. Following a dirt path outside of town, they crossed a bridge over a small stream and were soon standing in front of the local expert on critters, be they small or frighteningly huge. A note had been attached to the door, and snatching it away with her magic, Ruby held the page aloft and read aloud.

“Gon too git criterz... b bak soon?” Silver Spoon was about to inquire into Ruby’s sudden drop into terrible foal speak when she was passed the note to read for herself, where she found it written exactly as it was read. “I guess she’s not home right now. I don’t know how long she’ll be gone, either. Hmmm...” While Ruby began brainstorming activities to pass their time, Silver Spoon took a good look at the preoccupied unicorn and felt a tug within her own heart.

This is my chance. I can show her that I’m not just following anymore, that she’s... that I’m learning. And besides, I... want this. “Let’s head back into town.” Ruby paused and gave the filly an incredulous look, to which she adjusted her glasses, noted once more a subtle shift in expression, and continued. “What I meant to say was if we can’t be helpful here, we should go find somepony else who has work.”

“You... wait, you want to do somepony else’s dirty work?” Ruby asked, her shock on clear display. Silver Spoon dropped her gaze a moment, searching her motives before nodding slowly, chuckling to herself.

“Yeah, Ruby, I guess I do,” she replied, only slightly offended that Ruby was so completely blown away. “Don’t look so surprised. Helping other ponies can be fun, and it’s certainly better than sitting around doing nothing. Now, are you coming?”

She... she wants to help? Ruby had resolved within herself just minutes prior to wait for a sign of character, a spark to prove she wasn’t just something pretty that Silver Spoon wanted to add to her collection of possessions, but she hadn’t expected to be shown so soon and in such a familiar manner. More than the rush of gazing into her eyes, more than the mind-blowing wonder of gentle lips touching her cheek, being witness to obvious proof of an internal transformation from a selfish brat to a selfless, wonderful helping hoof was more moving than Ruby had imagined something could be, and something shifted. More than her appearance, more than her companionship, and even deeper than friendship, something stirred with a filly’s heart, as frightening as it was beautiful.

“Are you...”

“Totally excited! Let’s go!” Ruby shot back, breaking into a sprint to put a little distance between herself and a filly she somehow knew she wouldn’t be able to view the same. Perplexed, Silver Spoon gave chase, and it wasn’t long before they were working side by side, picking weeds, washing dishes, finding creative ways to get Opalescence out of a tree without doing her bodily harm, and other such chores. Ruby had to admit, she was somewhat proud of herself for managing to erect a working catapult to launch Silver Spoon’s catnip bomb, and Rarity thanked the girls profusely before taking her woozy feline, who had simply fallen out of the tree after inhaling enough catnip to keep her happy for days, and trotting away. An easy hour or two had passed by the time they finished with their most bizarre task to date, and with eager grins to hide their inner thoughts, the two made their way back towards a cottage littered with critters where an unusually excited pegasus with a heart for every creature greeted them at the door.

“Oh! Hello, girls. You came just in time!” Fluttershy exclaimed with a squeal as she leapt into the air, twirled twice, and flapped over to the younger ponies. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun, and with your help, I should be able to get most all of them done today! Oh, thank you so much for coming! All of the animals are waiting for us just around there,” she explained, prancing towards the back of the house and looking pleased as punch, and it was little wonder. Whisper was dutifully setting out halved oaken casks which were to serve as wash tubs and filling them with water while countless critters chattered with one another, excited for their favorite pony’s annual ritual. “We’ve got beavers, and, ferrets, and lots of cute little bunnies, and otters, and a seal, and, um...”

“A b-b-bear?!?” Ruby cried out, rightfully terrified of the hulking beast lazing about near the other woodland creatures. Silver Spoon would have liked to show proper flight or flight instincts and tear off towards town, but there was something about having Ruby toss her hooves around the filly’s neck and cling to her for comfort that made her quite content to stay rooted in place.

"Oh, you don't need to be afraid of Mr. Bear, girls," Fluttershy soothed, flapping over to the grizzly that looked on the verge of tears. "He just a big, dirty animal that needs a little care and affection, isn't that right?"

"Hey, that's what you called me last night, Fluttershy! Does that make me a bear, too?" Whisper asked, looking thoughtful as he paused his work to ponder the mystery. The timely interjection of the clueless stallion really helped defuse the tension, and while Fluttershy took a few moments of fuzz therapy to soothe the burning in her rosy cheeks, the bear in question enjoyed a Flutter massage while Ruby quietly tried to quell the trembling excitement racing through her limbs from her unplanned embrace.

This is bad. I can’t let Silver Spoon see how frazzled I’m am until I figure out what the hay is going on. I don’t want to get her hopes up, or...

“Hi!” the stallion called out again, trotting over to the two fillies who were sending off the most curious of signals. “Thanks for coming to help out Fluttershy. She really loves her animals, but they can be a lot of work! I don’t know why she’s acting so funny, though,” he commented, turning around and regarding the mare who had succeeded in reducing a ferocious grizzly to a relaxed puddle of soothed muscle. “I kinda made a mess with paints and stuff yesterday, but that’s no reason for her to get embarrassed... is it? Are paints, um...” He paused, stole a quick glance at Fluttershy, then motioned the fillies closer and whispered, “you know... ‘dirty?’”

It was an ironically fitting note to start things off, though Whisper really had just been curious as to why his inability to keep colors from spreading from his paper to the floor made Fluttershy send off that same funny vibe as when she got all cuddly. Fluttershy, having recovered sufficiently to face her helpers with relative confidence, ushered over the fillies, who were awkwardly looking anywhere but each other, and began explaining what they’d be doing. Winter would soon be upon the woodlands, and Fluttershy simply wouldn’t stand for her forest friends going to sleep with dirty coats, and thus the annual fall bath day was established for all who would attend. The mare’s excitement shifted towards affectionate worrying as she looked out over the many animals who had come, prompting an apologetic slew of warnings for careful handling of all the creatures, what shampoo to use for which critter, a reminder of her warning to be careful, special handling instructions for the little ones, and a final reminder that her creatures needed to be cared for nicely. With a dainty cheer and a cacophony of chatter from those in need of clean coats and a good scrubbing, the two fillies dove into their task with gusto.

That fateful afternoon, Ruby quickly came to conclude, had to have been the worst possible day for engaging in an activity involving both copious quantities of water with which to be drenched and a filly for whom a warm affection was growing. As Fluttershy, her coltfriend Whisper, Silver Spoon, and herself settled in to bathe a veritable horde of adorable critters, the filly just across the way became an ever present cause for distraction. Under normal circumstances, where wet mane and an alluring earth pony had no part or portion, the joy of knowing she was helping somepony in need would have been all the distraction Ruby needed to forget a problem, major or minor. Since that morning, however, she’d felt things within her heart began to change.

“You know, when you mentioned ‘bath time’ earlier, this isn’t what I thought you meant at all!” Silver Spoon called out from across the way, squealing as an eager beaver splashed her with an absolutely smashing cannonball.

Trust me, this isn’t what I expected today either. I mean, how am I supposed to focus on animals when you’re right over there, glasses set aside and... dripping wet... Curious and, for once, not in an amorous mood, Silver Spoon regarded the stare, or leer, she really couldn't tell which, with minor confusion and great amusement as Ruby rubbed her eyes, yelped as the suds induced a rather unpleasant burning sensation, and immediately re-focused herself on her work.

“D-don’t worry, Spoony,” Ruby called out, barely having the wherewithal to maintain an even tone and quickly coming to the conclusion that she would need to take a break in the not-too-distant future, “I’m sure there will be enough time for me to give you a good scouring!” It was not flustered growls of a pony vaguely chagrined that graced her ears, but instead a different sound that really impressed upon Ruby just how mightily things had shifted: cute, sweet, genuine giggles from a prissy pony up to her shoulders in suds and soil. It was too much, and Ruby busied herself with the rabbit within her makeshift tub, though her focus on the task at hoof was disrupted by an unexpected agreement of the most tempting sort.

“Oh? That’s so sweet of you to offer, Ruby. I think I’d like that.”

“W-what?!?” Ruby cried, taking a step back as if stricken. What? But she... she just... really?

“Just remember that I’m a lady of class; my coat is softer, so...” Silver Spoon paused, peering back at Ruby with huge, pleading eyes. “Scrub gently, ok?” Starting in her chest and fanning out like a forest fire in the dead of summer, a rush of heat swept Ruby, forming two little bonfires on either side of her muzzle. The shimmering rosen hue that wrapped around the scrub brush faded along with Ruby’s concentration, and Silver Spoon stared at it for a time and then back at the filly who had moved to a different barrel, pointedly hiding her face.

Wait, is she... getting embarrassed? Silver Spoon caught just a glimpse of the filly’s face as she dropped the soap and fumbled a scouring pad, both jobs things that would normally have been accomplished easily with magic, but pink had taken on a deep crimson, negating any chance a very flustered Ruby had of using her horn for anything other than a distress beacon. Slightly off kilter from having the ball in her court, Silver Spoon returned her attention to finishing up the beaver’s grooming and welcomed the next tenant.

No, I’m just getting my hopes up. Ruby isn’t shallow... It’d take more than a kiss to make her like me. Several minutes went by where nothing more was said, which further impressed upon Silver Spoon that something, though she didn’t know quite what, was definitely going on. Ruby had been chatting all morning, maybe more than normal, and not having a very high tolerance for uncertainty, nor very keen on the idea of letting Ruby continue to stew in whatever it was that struck her dumb, Silver Spoon finished up a cute little doe and sent it scampering off to its parents as she set down her brush and made her way over to the filly mindless brushing whatever critter was in the cask. Ruby was too steeped in thought to notice her approach, and even while Silver Spoon chided herself for getting her hopes up, she couldn’t help but smile as she conjured a little test for her friend.

“Hey.”

“Aaaah!” Jumping a full ponylength back, Ruby stared at Silver Spoon as if she had somehow morphed into a grotesquely large spider for a few moments before gulping nervously and putting her hoof down with all the force of Fluttershy’s buck. “D-don’t do that!”

“Do what?” Silver Spoon replied, wearing a faint smile.

“Don’t... do that, that thing... that you... just did... now,” Ruby stammered, shakily making her way back to the barrel. Right. Great way to assert yourself, Ruby. “D-don’t you have your own animals to wash? There are still plenty left, so... so, um... why don’t you go... wash them. Yeah...” Desperate for a distraction, Ruby attempted to resume her work, but grasping the brush in her hooves was like trying to hold a bar of soap covered in grease, and with no other options, she clamped her teeth around the handle and bent over, leaning in to the cask.

“Lucky brush.” Silver Spoon concluded her survey with a round of laughter as Ruby’s forelegs gave out and landed her head first inside the cask with a tremendous sploosh. Sputtering, the filly emerged and pawed at her eyes to clear away the water, and when she had sufficiently cleared her sight, she prepared to give the irksome pony a piece of her mind. Silver Spoon’s grin couldn’t have been any more smug as she rested her chin on crossed hooves, leaning on the rim of the barrel and gleefully swaying back and forth, not out of any attempt to rile Ruby further, but simply because she was filled with hope that maybe, just maybe things weren’t as one sided as she thought they were.

“You’re a... a, um... a... menace. Yeah, that one...” Ruby mumbled, blushing hard and turning her face away. Silver Spoon herself nearly fell victim to her own infatuation as the usually confident filly’s sopping mane tumbled over an eye, making her bashful behavior all the more endearing.

“A menace, hmmm?” Silver Spoon mused aloud, playfully leaning forward a little. No longer the center of attention and finding his bath to be taking a most unexpected turn, the squirrel politely excused himself and scampered over to Fluttershy for a good toweling off while Silver Spoon pondered how to proceed. “You like me.”

Admittedly, subtlety wasn’t the filly’s strong point, and as Ruby shifted forward to make her vehement rebuttal, Silver Spoon’s position of rest was acted upon by an outside force, and she fell forward as the barrel tipped over. With Ruby on the way out and Silver Spoon falling in, the two met in the middle and set sail on a short little love cruise, coming to a rest a short distance away, dripping wet, and breathless as Ruby found herself splayed out atop Silver Spoon. Knowing that they were being observed would likely have fueled enough panic to promote movement, but as they both lay still, hardly daring to breathe as a tumult of emotions and sensations overtook both of them, a curious stallion set aside his towel and turned to his fillyfriend for answers.

“Hey, Fluttershy?” The mare looked up from what she was doing as her coltfriend trotted over with a confused smile.

“What is it, Whisper? Did the those naughty frogs try to invade your mane again? I mean, it does kind of look like moss if you’re in the water, but I’m sure I’ve told them it’s not.” Like a pony born of the forest itself, Whisper’s coat was a vibrant forest green, and he carried with him an exceptionally long mane and tail, never trimmed in the fifteen years that he had indeed lived in the wild. Swishing his verdant-hued tri-toned mane from his eyes, the stallion, still filled with the wonder of youth and lacking a complete understanding of pony society, motioned towards their helpers with an outstretched hoof. The two hadn’t moved much, as they were both somewhat paralyzed by their close proximity to one another, and while Fluttershy would have assumed that the two were simply playing a game of some sort, Whisper’s uncanny attunement to matters of the heart brought a blush to the mare’s cheeks as he cast the two in a different light.

“Which one is the coltfriend?”

“Oh, um... that’s...”

“Is it the pink one? She’s on top, so that would make sense,” he deduced with cheerful innocence, flaunting his somewhat recently acquired understanding of relationships. “But the gray one has been talking a lot, and the pink one has been quiet, like you! So maybe it’s her! Uh... can they both be coltfriends? But, wait, they’re girls, right? Fluttershy, I’m confused.”

“Um, well, actually, you see-”

“Hey, I could ask them! I’m sure they know!” Excited to be learning something new, the arboreal unicorn started towards the pair just barely regaining the wherewithal to speak. Ruby’s attempts at vocalization, having had less time to learn how to grab her emotions by the reins, came out as a muffled moan, so it fell on Silver Spoon to be the first to regain her composure.

“You... you like me, don’t you?” She couldn’t feel ashamed for being so forward as she heard her own voice, barely a whisper and trembling with anxiety. The question had been asked, and there was no taking it back. Ruby could see the excitement in Silver Spoon’s eyes fade to worry as precious seconds ticked by, and she urged herself to say something, anything, but what could she say? Jumping to conclusions and answering affirmative, only to find later that she had spoken in haste would surely lead to heartbreak, and a possible rift in a friendship that meant the world to her. Remaining silent, however, seemed to be having the same effect.

I don’t know! I need time to think, just tell her that! “I... I...”

“Um, excuse me, but...” Whisper began, taking a step back as Ruby spooked, scrambling to get away and falling with a splash in the mud that had formed from the water. “I, um... I know you’re both helping each other get clean since you’re both really dirty and I interrupted your cuddle time, but I really, really want to ask a question. So, um... which one of you is the coltfriend?” At her wits end, Ruby tore off toward town, leaving Silver Spoon somewhat reassured that no, she wasn’t just imagining things, and Whisper immensely satisfied with his answer. “Did you see how she screamed an ran away? That’s like what I did when I first met Fluttershy! That means she’s the coltfriend, and- hey, you’re the fillyfriend!”

“Uh...”

“That means it’s your job to go chase her down and make her feel better! So, um, you should probably get going. She’s really fast.” While somewhat bemused by the stranger’s interest in her love life, if it could be so called, Silver Spoon couldn’t help but agree. Ruby had cheered her up plenty, and if she was the cause of her friend’s anxiety, then it was only fair she was the one to fix it.

“You know what... you happen to be right,” Silver Spoon murmured, looking on as Ruby receded in the distance. Giving the stallion and his mare her thanks, an earth pony of changed heart donned her spectacles, dried off, and set out after her friend as thoughts both sultry and serious swirled together. As much as Silver Spoon longed to know if Ruby truly was reciprocating her affections, all it took was a momentary reminisce to realize that such a subject could be delicate, and bluntly asking as she had may have been a bit much for the filly to handle: it certainly would have been for Silver Spoon. And yet... it was this remembrance that made her all the more determined to be whatever Ruby needed her to be, whether it be friend... or something a little bit more.

As rumination occupied a fairly tranquil mind and purposeful strides led the filly through town, a glint caught the corner of her eye, and all the peace that had governed her pool of thoughts dove for cover as reality emptied the pond with a sudden and unexpectedly forceful cannonball. The shimmer had come from a crown, one that belonged to a pony that had been a friend to Silver Spoon since foalhood, and despite every lesson learned and the realization that her ways had been wrong, she didn’t need glasses to see that Diamond Tiara looked straight up miserable.

Bullying is always easier when backed by a pony or two, but word of Silver Spoon’s secession from the sovereignty of Diamond Tiara’s iron-hoofed rule had spread like wildfire, and the abandoned, pathetic looking pony who sat upon a bench, steeping in a mire of isolation, had quickly learned that, one on one, she wasn’t taken seriously. Ponies no longer jumped at her command, didn’t fear her threats, and in fact had raised their hooves in violence a time or two that week. However, what hurt more than anything was seeing her former best friend cavorting around town with the epitome of lower class, watching Silver Spoon toss aside her pride along with their friendship to do charity work while she was shunned. In truth, she had been the one who walked away, but pride ran deep in the filly’s heart. She knew she hated being alone, but she had a ways to go before reaching a breaking point as Silver Spoon had.

I should just walk past her. After treating me the way she did, she doesn’t deserve my time. Holding her head high, Silver Spoon continued at her previous pace, making no point to hide but neither attempting contact, and it wasn’t until she passed Diamond Tiara that her heart began to tug on the reins. Why is this so hard? It doesn’t matter! I’m not even going to try! Each step became harder than the last for the willful filly, but she stopped a good distance away, hanging her head as an overwhelming cry within to try and patch things dredged a myriad of longings and aches to the surface. Silver Spoon slowly turned, feeling a pang of guilt at seeing her former flame so forlorn despite being the one who had been wronged, and without the faintest notion as to how she’d be received, she adjusted her glasses and made her way back, knowing that Ruby would have done the same.

“What do you want?”

Sheesh, I haven’t even sat down yet. Finding it strange that Diamond Tiara’s words didn’t sting nearly as much as he'd had feared, Silver Spoon took her seat on the bench beside Diamond Tiara who continued along her usual lines.

“Don’t you have some filthy, pointless job to be doing right now? You seem to have taken a liking to hanging around garbage.” The fact that the glowering filly was being a total jerk to her didn’t really upset Silver Spoon all that much, and what really impressed Silver Spoon was that the only thing she found infuriating about such a pointed statement was the notion that Diamond Tiara was likely referring to Ruby; it took all Silver Spoon’s strength of will not to up and leave right then and there for that reason alone.

“I’ve already done my deeds for the day, if you really must know,” Silver Spoon managed in an even tone. “You looked miserable, and I thought that maybe you could use a little company.”

“Oh, really? What gave you that idea, huh?” she snapped back, sniffing officiously as she turned her snout skywards.

“Hmmm, I dunno, Diamond Tiara! Maybe the complete lack of anypony paying you the slightest bit of attention? I’m sure that’s exactly how you wanted to spend your afternoon.” Silver Spoon let slip a quiet sight as a pointed silence ensued. It was disheartening to see how quickly she fell into old habits, lashing out with the same sharpened words as her previous teacher when, really, she just wanted to help. Memories of the fun times they’d had, the non-teasing, non-bullying ones, conjured a longing for reconciliation and the assurance that, if she could manage it, she would rather not just walk away from years of friendship.

“Do we have to fight like this?”

“Don’t try to make it sound like this is my fault,” Diamond Tiara snapped back, leaping upright. “You’re the one who ruined everything by kissing me!” With eyes full of malicious intent, Diamond Tiara noted how Silver Spoon shrank back at having her secret shouted to the world and promptly raised her voice. “I had imagined that a pony of class like you wouldn’t stoop to such things, but seeing who you hang with now, I guess it shouldn’t come as any surprise.”

“Leave Ruby out of this!” Silver Spoon cried, standing face to face with the one who had always steered her every thought and action. “You asked me what was wrong! You kept demanding that I tell you why I was so upset, and the moment I did, you pushed me away!”

“It’s not my fault it turned out to be something totally disgusting! You’re lucky I’m even talking to you right now, but given how rude you’re being, I think I’m starting to lose interest. If you really want me to take you back, you’re going to have to beg.” Not even the twin walls of glass could mitigate the cold fury rising within the heart of a filly woefully betrayed. Diamond Tiara quailed as Silver Spoon’s eyes seared into her soul the list of wrongs suffered, causing her to leap from the bench and begin to back away.

“Tell me...” Silver Spoon began, locking eyes and stalking towards a pony that she had once called friend. “Why would anypony beg to have a selfish, untrustworthy, incorrigible, poisonous leech dictate how they live their life? I’m done dancing when you tell me to dance, helping you tear down other ponies to cover up just how inferior you really feel because your precious daddy won’t make time for his snobby little girl! Well, guess what, Diamond Tiara?” Silver Spoon growled, thrusting her face close and towering over the filly who had stumbled back, glaring at her with unsympathetic eyes. “All your bits mean nothing here, because everypony knows what a miserable parasite you are, and I’m not going to let you tarnish my name any longer. I’d much rather spend my time with somepony who can drag me through the mud and still make me feel like I shine.”

Silver Spoon had meant every word, but a few short steps away and the sound of tears being shed began to drizzle the retreating filly in a light shower of remorse. The mist became a downpour as she turned to mumble out some half-hearted apology, only to see Diamond Tiara tear off into town with tears coursing down her cheeks, taking with her any sense of victory Silver Spoon had felt. Sure, she’d stood up for herself, but at what cost? Regardless of how justified it had felt at the time, Silver Spoon hung her head as she realized she had become the traitor, cruelly stabbing Diamond Tiara where she knew it would hurt.

I just... did exactly what she did to me; I took her secret and stomped all over it. Ruby wouldn’t have wanted that... The empty bench made room for another as she returned, shuddering as she felt the warmth of the wooden slats and was forced to wonder just how long Diamond Tiara had been sitting there. This is stupid. Why should I feel sorry for her? She’s the one being such a nasty little troll, acting all high and mighty... Alas, Ruby had bred in Silver Spoon the dastardly peace-keeper known as a conscience, and she knew the answer even as she railed against it. Through rough patches and sunny days, she’d shared most of her life with Diamond Tiara, and knew better than anypony that deep beneath an extremely prickly exterior lay something of true worth. It was just painful to reach for it.

I’d like to help, but... I don't know if I have the strength to face her alone... Ruby, it seemed, was the final piece of her puzzle. Lifelong friends was the very least that Silver Spoon would settle for, but she knew in her heart that she longed for something more from Ruby, something deeper and more cherished than friendship. Even as she stood and began her search anew, she couldn’t say with certainty that she could even accept anything less, because with that hard working unicorn whose laugh was an infectious disease, slowly eating away at every other malady of the heart, it was more than simple attraction that drove each hoof in front of the other.

It took Silver Spoon quite some time to finally track down her enabler, and even when she finally found the Ruby in the rough, she remained at a distance, hesitant and unsure of how to proceed. The despondency of the normally peppy unicorn was visible even from across the park, a realization compounded by the fact that she sat in the exact same place and position Silver Spoon had been in when they first met: alone on the swingset, unmoving, unnoticed. Remembering that Ruby had been the first to reach out, Silver Spoon felt the stirring within her heart to do the same, so she steadied herself and pushed all other thoughts from her mind as she began to cross the grassy divide.

I wonder if I looked this miserable the day we met... Silver Spoon recognized that if Ruby really was struggling with understanding a new slew of desires that were still considered by some to be less reputable than traditional pony relationships, there was a chance she would be rejected outright should she attempt to press the matter. At the same time, a more than comfortable childhood had bred a sense of entitlement that would not in a week be entirely cast aside. The park wasn’t all that large, but it felt like it stretched on for miles as thoughts, doubts, and desires crept out of hiding, and by the time Silver Spoon was standing just a pony length away from the one who she set out to comfort, she found herself wishing she could ask for the same.

I don’t know if she’s even noticed I’m standing here... At first, Ruby had only garnered Silver Spoon’s interest by virtue of her infuriatingly adorable everything, from her eye-catchingly bright coat to her well-bodied mane to everything else on the list, but somewhere over the last week Ruby had taught a stubborn filly to value something deeper. I never thought I’d understand how you glean so much satisfaction from getting covered in grime, but it’s not about that, is it? It’s about the ponies. You make them feel special, and right now, I’d... like to do the same for you. It was time for Ruby to see just how much she’d made a tarnished pony shine.

“If you’d like to talk, I’m here,” Silver Spoon said quietly. Ruby shuddered lightly as she was yanked from her daze, blinking once as she turned to see who was talking and then quickly turning away, returning her gaze to the ground. Several long seconds of silence passed by as Ruby struggled to find the words, her mouth opening once or twice but never making a sound. That’s exactly how I felt, too. Looks like I finally get to help you with something. Well, something that doesn’t get me covered in soot. Silver Spoon couldn’t stop a brief smile from lighting her features as she took a seat on the swing beside the filly, the notion of paying back a portion of the patience and kindness that had been heaped upon her head like so many warm blankets becoming all the strength she needed to know it was time.

“So... I never told you my secret,” Silver Spoon began, stretching out a hind hoof and scratching at the sand. It wasn’t fear of any kind of rejection from the one who’d stood by her side through her deepest need, but simply that she was willing baring wounds that hadn’t fully healed. It’ll be worth it if it’s any help to you. Please, cheer up, Ruby. I’d really... like to see you smile. Stirring for the first time since her arrival, Ruby gave her swing mate a brief sidelong glance before dropping her gaze to the sand again. If it weren’t for the fact that embracing the filly, who may or may not be struggling with a confusing attraction to the one doling out the comfort, struck Silver Spoon as a bad idea, she would have hugged the stuffing out of Ruby then and there. Disregarding the fact that such an action would have been tantamount to running her emotions through a blender on “pureé,” Ruby wouldn’t have refused.

“I think by now you’ve realized where my... attractions lie,” Silver Spoon continued, lifting her eyes to the afternoon sky. “I can... still remember how much the feelings scared me. I seriously doubt my father would be ok with it, and so for a long time, I... just tried to ignore when I noticed how nice another filly’s hair was or if they had pretty eyes. But then... something happened that I couldn’t ignore.” Silver Spoon turned to check on her audience of one to find her riveted, staring back, and while Ruby quickly looked away, Silver Spoon took a deep breath as she readied herself to walk through the briars of her memory for the sake of a caring heart.

“The... the first pony I really fell for ended up being my best friend.” Ruby would have interrupted then and there, exclaiming about how anypony could possibly find anything attractive about such an insufferable troll, but Silver Spoon’s downcast eyes cried in unison with her silence, and Ruby found herself no longer concerned with her own problems.

“Diamond Tiara?” she said softly, without even the slightest hint of judgement. Silver Spoon cringed as she nodded, folding her hooves in her lap as the plunge in her energy forbade further swinging of her legs. “I don’t... she’s kinda like, you know...” Ruby continued, pausing for a few painful seconds before nailing it down to just one word. “Why?”

“Ruby, remember this is a secret,” Silver Spoon said after a time, turning towards Ruby with a face that forbade nonsense and a firm voice to match and, after the filly nodded, she continued. “Diamond Tiara is actually... no, she can be really sweet. I know!” Silver Spoon snapped on accident, cutting Ruby off and dropping back to a gentler tone as she shrank away at the sudden rise in volume. “I’m sorry... Look, I know it sounds totally crazy, and I’m not blind, ok? I know she can be a real...”

“...pain in the flanks?” Ruby offered sheepishly, taking great care in sounding as neutral as possible.

“That’ll do,” Silver Spoon agreed, scoffing a little. “The word I was thinking of, well... I’d need a whole bar of soap to wash the nasty out of my mouth afterwards, and given that I’ve swallowed more than enough for a day, I think I’ll pass.” A hesitant chuckle led to an encouraging giggle, relieving a little tension and clearing the path for Silver Spoon to plow onwards. “Diamond Tiara acts the way she does because she needs the attention. Good, bad, it doesn’t matter, as long as somepony is paying attention to her.”

“That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me, but I’ve never really liked the spotlight...” Ruby murmured. “So... if it doesn’t matter to her what kind of attention she gets, why does she act so bossy and mean?”

“Tell me, Ruby,” Silver Spoon countered, capturing the filly’s undivided attention as she prepared to break her longest kept promise for the sake of the one who swore her to secrecy, “what’s it like, having a mother who loves you?”

“What kind of question is...” Ruby began, her voice trailing off as Silver Spoon’s gaze bore into her. “It’s... really amazing. My mother is the sweetest pony I know, and even though I have to help her out a lot, I know there’s nothing she wouldn’t do for me. I don’t know what I’d do without her, but what does that have to do with Diamond Tiara?” In the few seconds of quiet that followed, Ruby began to connect the dots in the back of her mind, and by the time the outline was done, Silver Spoon had only to color it in.

“Diamond Tiara has everything that money can buy at the tip of her hooves, but all she really wants... is to be noticed by her parents.” For Ruby, the mere thought of being neglected by her mother was enough to bring her to tears even knowing it would never happen, but to have both parents pay her no heed was something she couldn’t fathom as anything other than the darkest of nightmares. “Her mother is the disciplinarian,” Silver Spoon continued, herself shaken by the remembrance. “Every time Diamond Tiara gets in trouble, it’s her mother that decides the consequence because Filthy Rich is too busy managing all the businesses he has his hoof into.”

“That’s... so cruel,” Ruby whispered, turning her glassy eyed gaze towards the one who quietly slid off the swing and into the sand with a muffled whumph. A filly who had learned who she really wanted to be presented herself before the one who had shown her the way with just one last request.

“Ruby, I know you’re struggling to try and understand what you’re feeling,” Silver Spoon started, refusing to look away even as guilt at asking anything of the filly rose like the tides behind her eyes. “You’re going through alot right now, and I... know it’s probably all my fault. I really... really like you, Ruby, and so... there’s just one more thing I’d like to ask of you...” Tension hung in the air as Silver Spoon laid aside her pride, bowing her head before the filly on the swing who couldn’t look away. Transfixed, time froze for Ruby as she prepared herself to be asked a question she feared she wouldn’t know how to answer. What was asked, however, simply gave her the answer she was looking for.

“You don’t have to decide right now if you like me or not. Even if you decide we... we can only be friends, I’d come to accept it, even though... though it’d hurt....” Silver Spoon sank to her haunches as tears began to stream from her eyes at the thought, and as all her lauded confidence fractured like a mirror cast to earth, a gentle pressure around her cheeks from two caring hooves guided her eyes to those that shone with kindness. “You... you helped me see worth where I only saw dirt, and made me... somepony that I can be proud of. Please... can you help Diamond Tiara?”

“You... that’s what you wanted to ask?” Ruby managed, her voice barely a whisper. While the filly at her hooves may not have known it, Ruby would have been willing to grant her just about any request, but to see Silver Spoon take her generosity and immediately give it away for the good of the one who had wronged her the most wasn't something so superficial as to be mildly shocking, but radically life-changing. There was no longer any doubt in Ruby’s mind that the stirrings in her heart were genuine, because Silver Spoon had just proved that, after all was said and done, there existed within her the kind of caring, compassionate soul that Ruby knew she would never want to leave.

“It hurt... so much when she turned me away,” Silver Spoon continued, sobbing as quietly as she could. “I trusted her with everything, but she told me I was... disgusting, and it... it broke something inside, but I know she’s hurting, too.” It was selfish and assuming, but Silver Spoon couldn’t stop herself from throwing her hooves around Ruby and clinging tightly around her waist, burying her muzzle into her chest. Any lingering traces of composure quietly drifted away as the warmth of a caring embrace pulled her close, and with the soothing hush of a truer friend whispering that everything would be all right, Silver Spoon found so much more than solace.

The quaking in a yearning filly’s shoulders had just begun to die down when a gentle tug bid her pull away, but fear was unable to corrupt the moment as Silver Spoon found herself looking into adoring emerald eyes. Her lips parted as if to speak, but instead tasted that which is sweeter than honey. Ruby leaned in deep, freely yielding to the tug of her heart to be close to somepony who had just proved the depth of her beauty, not with her mane, nor her eyes, but a heart that truly shone brighter with every passing day. Bathed in the cascade of relief and the assurance that the moment she was sharing with Ruby was more than just curiosity, Silver Spoon leaned forward a little more, savoring every sweet second that slowly slipped past. Pausing to wipe away the tears from a silver muzzle, Ruby giggled shyly as Silver Spoon returned the favor, bringing a smile to them both.

“I always wondered what kind of pony would want to spend their life with somepony who just goes around finding nasty work to do for free,” Ruby whispered, gazing deep into violet eyes. “I didn’t want to rush into anything and get anypony hurt, but when you told me you’d be here, I... wanted you to mean forever. I don’t... ever want to be left alone like my mom. Spoony?” Ruby paused, capturing the filly’s total attention. “Even if the answer is no, or you’re not sure, hearing you ask for my help just so you could help another made you... the most beautiful filly in my eyes, so now it’s my turn to beg. Would you... be the one to stay with me... always?” There was nothing Silver Spoon wanted more, though being too overcome to speak, she answered with a vigorous nod as she threw out her hooves and snatched Ruby into a firm embrace, smiling even as tears of joy trickled down her cheeks.

“I don’t think I’ve ever cried this much in my life,” Ruby murmured after a time, sniffling as she pulled away and laughing weakly as she found Silver Spoon pawing at her eyes the same as she. “Thanks a lot for getting me all sappy, Spoony.”

“Don’t try to blame it on me,” Silver Spoon giggled, wiping her snout on the back of her hoof and making a face as she mistook sand for a dishcloth. “You’re the one who came up with the great idea to take a bath together.”

“T-that sounds, um...” Ruby stammered, flushing deep crimson against her pink coat and hiding her face as Silver Spoon peered back with a triumphant grin. “Don’t get any ideas! Just ‘cause we ki... kissed once doesn’t mean I’m, um... like that, and... stuff... what the hay is that look for?”

“Nothing, I was just thinking that you’re really cute, Pinchy. Also, we should... oh my!” Silver Spoon laughed, covering her own blushing muzzle with a hoof as she discovered that the already weakened filly responded positively to her new pet name. If the brief pulse of light from her horn wasn’t a clear indicator that she found the moniker agreeable, then the hooves covering her burning cheeks were. “Did I say something right?”

“Y-you’re a... a, um...” Finding speech to be uncooperative, Ruby desperately sought to turn the tides in her favor, though as Silver Spoon let out a startled yelp at suddenly being tackled, Ruby found she was every bit as susceptible to infatuation as the filly pinned under her hooves.

“You do seem to be having trouble grasping the concept of ‘gentle...’” Silver Spoon said softly, giggling a little as she slid her hooves around Ruby’s neck and gave a gentle tug. It was an offer that Ruby couldn’t refuse, and she was again reassured that she’d made the right decision by sparks, shivers, and a lot of fireworks. Short, sweet, and packed with meaning, Ruby pulled away from her second kiss and shuddered from the rush; the host of flaming butterflies that had taken up residence in her stomach seemed to have become stuck on tumble-dry. Meeting bashful, timid eyes with the calming reassurance of barely contained jubilance, Silver Spoon said all that was needed with a nod. Ruby gratefully took a few moments to regain her breath and, having done so and quite confident that she couldn’t be any more flushed in the face, she opened her mouth to speak when a familiar voice from nearby proved her very, very wrong.

“You do realize you’re in a park, right?” Sweetie Belle winced as both ponies let out cries of surprised, quickly scrambling upright and looking anywhere but each other. “You know, before I say ‘congratulations’ to the both of you, I’d just like to remind you two that a room might be a more appropriate place for... that.”

“Hmmm, you do have a rather comfortable bed, Pinchy,” Silver Spoon teased with a grin.

“S-Spoony!”

“Well, you two clearly have business to attend, and I have a dragon to see, so I’ll make this quick. Ruby, and yes, you too, Silver Spoon, are both invited to join myself and the rest of the crusaders at the tavern tonight.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind me coming?” Silver Spoon asked, taking a few moments to be serious and let Ruby recover. “I’ve... been pretty mean to you all in the past.”

“Yeah, you have,” Sweetie Belle agreed cheerfully, “but you’ve clearly changed your tune. It’s easy to see, and any friend of Ruby’s is a friend of mine. Just... maybe keep the making out to a minimum?”

“There was no tongue!” Ruby shouted, immediately regretting the action as half the ponies in the park turned and gave her a myriad of looks ranging from incredulous to dubiously interested. “...wasn’t making out,” she mumbled in a much quieter tone while Sweetie Belle and Silver Spoon bonded over a good laugh.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure we don’t get too distracted and miss out,” Silver Spoon assured the messenger.

“Great! We’ll see you both then,” Sweetie Belle said as she gathered up a neatly wrapped gift box and set off at an easy trot. Silver Spoon silently thanked the retreating filly for her kindness before returning her attention to the adorably flustered filly who was having a little bit of trouble accepting the sudden shift in dominance. It was strange for Silver Spoon, too, but the good kind of strange, very much like trying something new and really, really liking it. Given that what Silver Spoon enjoyed was no “it,” but a very beautiful “she,” the earth pony’s heart was firm in its belief that she’d cherish the bond to the fullest. That didn’t mean she couldn’t tease, though.

“Well, since it’s already been decided that you’re the coltfriend, I-” Silver Spoon began, wincing as Ruby’s indignant exclamation cut her off. It really was too much fun.

“Wait, what? Why am I the coltfriend?” Ruby interjected, becoming frustrated on multiple levels with the filly whose muzzle was covered coyly by a silver hoof.

“You ran off.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

“Sure it does!” Silver Spoon laughed, leaning forward a little and leering. “You were on top.”

“Spoony! I’m seriously going to...” she countered, looking as if she were ready to pounce for a moment before thinking better of it and plopping back down in the sand. “Gah, I can’t think like this!”

“You’ll learn to adjust, I’m sure,” Silver Spoon mused in an affectionate tone before adopting a teasing grin and shooting the filly a wink, “and until then, I’ll keep having fun with my Pinchy.”

“T-that’s not fair...”

“Is it really so terrible?” Silver Spoon asked, drawing close and placing a gentle hoof on the filly’s back.

“...No,” Ruby admitted, flopping onto her side and staring listlessly out at the park. “Ugh, my mom is gonna give me so much grief over this...” Raising her eyes to the sky, Ruby gauged the time and decided that there was still enough daylight for a little more dirty work. “Well, I’ve cleaned up a totally mucky spoon, so I guess it’s time to start on polishing a rough-cut diamond.” Expecting enthusiasm, Ruby pulled herself upright and lifted a hoof to start her next project when she glanced back and found Silver Spoon looking away with her cheeks slightly flushed. “Spoony, is... something wrong?”

“I...” Asking for material things had never posed any kind of problem for Silver Spoon, but she couldn’t help but feel selfish, asking another request when her two deepest desires had been fulfilled by the very filly now seated beside her. “Do... you think that maybe... we could wait to see Diamond Tiara until tomorrow?” Swallowing what remained of her pride, Silver Spoon refused to give credence to shame as she sheepishly made one more request. “I’ll follow you either way, but I... was really hoping to spend some time alone with you, tonight...”

“You’re gonna be a high-maintenance fillyfriend, aren’t you?” Ruby replied, chuckling fondly as Silver Spoon turned to her with pleading eyes. “I really am the coltfriend, it seems... I just can’t say no to your beautiful face!”

“Ruby...” Hearing her name spoken with such passion and desperation brought a rush of heat back to cheeks that had only just begun to cool, and assuming her mantle as leader with trembling hooves, the filly slowly reached forward and wrapped her hooves around Silver Spoon’s shoulders.

“Could you... ask me again with my other name, maybe?”

“I... I’d like to spend the night with you... Pinchy.”

“You know what, Spoony?” Ruby replied softly, unwilling to place any restraints on the affection slowly building into a smile. “There’s... nothing I’d like more.” Gratitude instigated one final embrace before the fillies began making their way back towards town, their hearts light and their features alight with anticipation, though Ruby couldn’t have fully understood what kind of an impact she’d had on Silver Spoon. The well-to-do earth pony, who had once been the salt in every wound Diamond Tiara had caused, couldn’t help but beam as she resolved once more to watch and learn from the magnificent pony that had taken the time to show her a better way: a way to truly shine.

Teach Me

Chapter 20: Teach Me

“You sure are lucky, Applebloom.” Given that the filly’s morning had started off with a maneful of chum, Applebloom was justifiably incredulous as she turned towards the aggravatingly adorable colt who had stopped to take in the rows upon rows of healthy trees and the sweet scent of fruit that pervaded the air. He was probably right, but there was no need to let him have it too easy.

“Oh? How’s that?” Applebloom replied, feigning indifference.

“Well, your yard is really pretty, and it smells nice too!” Rumble quipped, causing the filly to pause and take a deep draft of the country air, analyzing the tantalizing aroma a few moments before turning back with a wry grin to the pegasus just a hoof’s reach away.

“It smells like shenanigans.”

“Uh huh! And apples!” Rumble chortled, beaming brightly and scooching just a little closer.

“Right, and apples...” Applebloom murmured, unable to keep a giggle from escaping as she too inched over, and together they resumed their leisurely stroll. As much as she was struggling to deny the humor in all the mishaps of the prior evening, all it had taken was a relaxed trot through town and Rumble’s ever-present optimism to restore her good graces in a way few ponies could, even her closest of friends. Applebloom had almost forgotten about the rude awakening she’d experienced that morning as they arrived at the farmhouse, but a time-worn mare’s uncanny knack for astute observation quickly wiped the smile from a lively colt’s muzzle and replaced it with a frown that made Applebloom think of that time Winona had been wrapped in damp towels as a pup by mistake. In short? Endearingly miserable.

“Phew! You two musta been gettin’ into all kinds o’ dirty t’ come home smellin’ like that!” Granny Smith exclaimed, wrinkling her nose the moment the two set hoof inside the kitchen. “Applebloom, it ain’t proper fer a young lady t’ go around reekin’ like a pig sty after the whole herd had a grand ol’ feast o’ brussel sprouts and rotten onions.”

“Ah don’t smell that bad, do ah, Rumble?” It didn’t do much for the filly’s confidence as she turned to find Rumble discretely averting his muzzle and nervously rubbing his foreleg in emphatic silence. “...ah do, don’t ah.”

“...uh huh.”

“Even after ah showered so long mah hooves got all wrinkled?”

“Uh huh.”

“Figures,” Applebloom muttered, shaking her head as she turned back to the rickety mare tottering over. “Granny, before ah go soak in enough perfume t’ knock the curl out o’ Rarity’s mane, do ya think you might be able t’ get the smell an’ stain outta my bow?”

“Let’s see now...” the mare murmured to nopony in particular, accepting the offered length of fabric and scrutinizing it under her militant eye. “Well, I’ll be!” she exclaimed, chuckling as she looked at the two ponies with twinkling eyes. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this bow smells like Rumble an’ a bit o’ Silver’s finest pale cider!” Applebloom looked at Rumble, and blushed. Rumble looked at Applebloom and blushed harder. “You two been gettin’ cozy, eh?” Quickly turning away after brief eye contact that anypony would have clearly read “guilty as charged,” Rumble looked up at the beaming matriarch and defended their innocence.

“Uh... uh uh?”

“Oh, there’s no need t’ be secretive with me, young un! Just don’t let Applejack catch ya, or she’s liable t’ tan yer hide real good!” Giving the pair a wink, discernment trained by the test of time shifted the conversation back where it had started, allowing the two time to recover. “Don’t you worry none, Applebloom. I know a few tricks fer gettin’ things cleaned, like... eh, what was that sayin’ my ma used to tell me? Ponyfeathers, it was right there... oh well, it’ll come t’ me when I need it! You go ahead an’ run along, now. Come back sometime this evenin’ and I’ll have it smellin’ fresher than Silver’s goatee!”

“Uh... right, Granny. Thanks, ah guess?” Applebloom offered as the mare tottered off to begin the preparatory work necessary for the cleansing of a defiled and wayward bow, namely a sound interrogation with the possible threat of bleach. Applebloom stared briefly briefly before turning back to Rumble with a dubious grin. “Now, given that somepony didn’t tell me ah reek like a pig, ah-”

“It’s really not that bad, Applebloom!” Rumble interjected, pounding a hoof lightly in exasperation that was more directed at himself than anypony else.

“Calm down, Rumble; ah’m just teasin’” the filly chuckled, starting down the hall. “Ah’m just gonna swipe a spritz or two o’ Crimson’s perfume, and then we can get started on fixin’ the boat, alright?”

“Uh huh! Sounds great!” he replied, brightening up and reverting to his usual smiley self as the filly cantered away, coming to a stop in front of her brother’s room.

Hope ah ain’t interruptin’ anythin’, though ah wager ah’d feel it in the floor if ah was... Knocking thrice to make sure she wouldn’t be victim to education she didn’t need, and consequently already knew, Applebloom waited for a time before cracking open the door and wandering in. Given the amount of “activity” she knew occurred in the room, she tended to avoid it altogether, and not seeing anything right away, it became apparent she’d have to do a little scrounging around to find Crimson’s stash.

If there’s one thing I can say about Crimson, it’s that she always smells real nice. Mah brother sure seems to like it... Not spying anything in the immediate area, the filly took a deep draft of the air and immediately homed in on a set of drawers that smelled like somepony had nicked all of Rose Luck’s flowers and stuffed them all into one tiny compartment. Applebloom cracked open the drawer and was immediately blasted by the scent of many fragrances, with bottle after bottle neatly organized and just waiting for a good testing.

If Big Mac likes it, then maybe Rumble will too! It was all the motivation she needed, and she began to “test” each bottle with a little spritz here, a tiny spray there, one by one until she’d flooded the room with the sweet scent of fruits and flowers. Having gone through just about every bottle, Applebloom ignored the coughing spasm from forced inhalation of countless chemicals and stumbled out of the room amidst a billowing cloud of perfume. A certain colt, having patiently waited for nearly half an hour, smelled a certain other filly long before she strode confidently into the room, her head held high.

“Bet ah smell better now, huh?”

“Uh h- achoo!” An unpremeditated nasal explosion wasn’t exactly the response Applebloom was trying to invoke, but she waited patiently while the colt recovered, sniffed, and sneezed again.

“Are you okay?”

“Nuh uh... a... achoo!”

“What’s yer problem? Do ah still smell bad?”

“Nuh uh! You a... ah...” While Rumble continued to involuntarily empty his snout amidst many a poorly restrained sneeze, Applebloom couldn’t help but feel slightly stinted by such a lackluster response.

“Ah don’t get it, Rumble. First, ah start mah day smellin’ like day old dinner an’ cider, an’ now that ah went an’ tried t’ fix it, all yer doin’ is sneezin’ like it’s hay fever season! What’s a filly gotta do, huh?” Before Rumble could even try to respond, which would have taken much longer anyways due to his diaphragm’s nasty habit of interrupting him mid sentence with a chain of spasms, Granny Smith’s voice called out to shed a little light on Applebloom’s confusion.

“Woohee! Applebloom, what ‘n tarnation did you do? Smells like a flower shop exploded! Ah hope you ain’t tryin’ t’ impress Rumble with all this... poor colt’s liable t’ sneeze himself half t’ death!” Laughter prompted sneezes which prompted further laughter, and with Rumble no longer able to stand, Applebloom hung her head and sighed. Apparently, smelling like a proper filly was too far-fetched a goal for a farm pony.

“...ah’m gonna go shower,” she muttered, marching away from the scene and heading straight to the bathroom. That was right embarrassin’. Ah tried t’ do somethin’ right, an’ it just plain flopped! It’s just... frustratin’! Smacking the handle on the shower and yelping as the ensuing downpour ranked somewhere just below scalding, Applebloom frantically adjusted the temperature, uttering dark words cursing their old pipes, and let her embarrassment wash away. Ah wonder... if this is how Rumble always feels, breakin’ things? Must be hard on ‘im... Shoot, ah can hardly stand it now, let alone every other day. At least... he got a good laugh out of it.

Her heart calmed as the pungent odor of lilac, lavender, ripe mango and a myriad of other scents washed down the drain along with her frustration, and after drying off, she returned to find Rumble milling about the front yard. Curious, Applebloom sat down and watched as he neared an apple tree, walked a tentative circle around it, and looked down at his hooves. In truth, Applebloom felt just a little bad that she didn’t warn the colt, but her presence was soon made known by uproarious laughter as Rumble made the common mistake of not bracing his forelegs and bucked himself flat onto his face.

“That’s mah colt,” Applebloom murmured to herself, cantering over and adopting a more sympathetic look as the colt massaged his snout, already quite raw from having sneezed so much. “Ah can’t count how many times ah’ve seen others make the same mistake, Rumble, so you don’t have any reason t’ feel bad,” Applebloom said cheerfully. “Ah ain’t that great at buckin’ trees mahself, but ah can show you how it’s done, at least. Now, look here...”

From the moment she started her little seminar, Applebloom found herself regarded with her colt’s complete attention. He listened quietly, asked a relevant question, and was the very model of a perfect student, which Applebloom found somewhat confusing. It wasn’t that she thought he was any less intelligent for this attentiveness, but that bucking trees seemed like such an ordinary task to be regarded with such astute interest, adding to her puzzlement. “See?” Applebloom finished up, giving the tree a light buck and getting nothing but leaves. “You try it now.”

“Uh huh!” Rumble said excitedly, taking his place near the base of the tree. He checked the tree, went through the steps in his mind, braced his hooves just like he’d been taught, and bucked with all his might. A satisfying shock raced through his limbs as he made connection, leaving his hind legs tingling and his muzzle creased into an enormous smile that didn’t fade as a single apple fell down and bonked him on the head. “I did it right! Did you see that? I bucked the tree, I didn’t fall on my face, and I even got an apple! Yes!”

“You sure are excited, Rumble,” Applebloom replied, as amused as she was bemused. “Was bucking the tree really that fun?”

“Uh huh!” the colt quipped as he pranced a victory lap around the tree. “I didn’t break anything, so of course I’m happy! That was great!”

Ah don’t get you, Rumble, but you sure make mah heart glad. “Well, ah’m happy that you had fun,” Applebloom said with a smile. “Listen, if you wanna keep buckin’ trees fer a while, that’s fine, but ah’d really like t’ spend some time workin’ on mah boat today. Ain’t hardly had time, what with all the crazy. Do you think that’d be all right?”

“Uh huh! We can do that now, if you’d like.”

“Don’t need t’ ask me twice! Come on, Rumble. Let’s git t’ fixin’!” Racing to the barn with high hopes, the pair arrived and found Rotterdam right where he’d stayed since his arrival. Rumble watched with anticipation as Applebloom gathered her tools while he took a comfortable place atop a nearby bale of hay so as to not disturb the filly in her natural habitat. He folded his hooves and lay his head atop them, watching as Applebloom set about her chore with passion, working out calculations in mutters and sighs. It was endearing, but it also brought with it a pang of longing for a trade of his own that brought him to life the way restoration did for Applebloom.

I’d love to find just one thing I was really good at, and that I really like... something to make everypony proud. It doesn’t have to be anything impressive... Remembrance of Applebloom’s assistance just moments prior brought a question to mind. It was one he had only asked once, and never again after that, but if she could teach him how to buck a tree, then maybe she could teach him other things, too. “Hey, Applebloom?”

“Uh huh?” the busy filly murmured, glancing up from the sketches she was doodling to try and determine the most adequate starting point. It struck the colt as odd that he found the pencil hanging loosely from the filly’s muzzle to be so bafflingly adorable as she peered up at him with curious eyes, but a whopping dose of affection deterred him from dampening her high spirits with something so trite as a question whose only point was in prompting reassurance. Whether by trade or by trial, Rumble decided that simply sharing in all the craziness of life with Applebloom was good enough for him, and he grinned a little as his brain handed him a hastily scrawled cue card which he read without much thought.

“What’s Silver’s goatee smell like?” The pencil dropped. “I mean, um... your granny! Yeah, she mentioned that it was, um... it was... fresh! Right, fresh. So, does it... smell... good?”

“...ah don’t make a point o’ sniffin’ mah brother-in-law’s facial hair, Rumble.”

“Right. That makes sense.” Not wishing to allow any further mysteries to escape his malignant muzzle, the colt quietly busied himself acting quite invisible, using the most rudimentary of stealth techniques with which to elude Applebloom’s sight; covering his face with a hoof and pretending he couldn’t be seen. Soft hoofbeats signaled the imminent approach of further embarrassment, or so the colt thought. Instead, soft filly lips brushed his cheek ever so briefly, bidding Rumble stow his shame and lift his eyes to gaze upon the red-tinged cheeks of a filly desperately trying to look busy. Crossing his hooves once more, Rumble found his eyelids grow heavy as a comforting warmth tickled the side of his muzzle, and it wasn’t long before a late night and a longer day prior lulled the young pegasus to sleep.

“Huh, he’s even distractin’ when he’s asleep,” Applebloom murmured as she regarded her coltfriend’s form and gentle snores with a fond smile. Her tools were ready, her plans all laid out, but it wasn’t with excitement that she turned away, but a strangely comforting reluctance. Rumble, you ain’t got even the slightest idea how dreadfully taken ah am with you. If you're already rivalin’ mah hammer fer affection, then ah’ve got it real bad. “Ah well, work before play, ah suppose,” Applebloom said with a quiet laugh turning back to the waterlogged vessel. “Now, don’t go gettin’ full o’ yerself, Rotty. Ah’d choose Rumble’s needs over yours any day, but he ain’t fallin’ apart. What’s that? Well, o’ course you ain’t mah number one no more! You had yer chance, an’ you didn’t listen to a word ah said!” Rambling to her hearts content, Applebloom settled into her groove, ready for a relaxing afternoon of restoration, backed by the subtle support of a snoring colt.

The elderly, however, can often be somewhat stubborn and set in their ways, and not being a licensed medical professional accustomed to attempting to coax rickety ponies to take their meds, which are solemnly believed by the intended recipient to turn their limbs into flaccid cucumbers, Applebloom didn’t take Rotterdam’s refusal of healing hooves with all that much patience. Nailing one plank caused another to break, merely walking on the surface seemed to invite cracks or, in some cases, liquefaction of once soggy, now dry planks, and all her elaborate sketches and drafts were obsolete within minutes of setting into the work. Applebloom was fairly stubborn as well, but the morning passed and quickly turned to afternoon as muttered calculation became darkened oaths not fitting for filly lips to utter. As the starboard side fell flat for the umpteenth time, the can-do filly threw down her mallet and fled the codger in shame, diving into a pile of hay and having herself a good ol’ fashioned tantrum.

“Ah can’t do anythin’ right!” was the mournful howl to which Rumble awoke, startling the colt from his bale and landing him with a wakeful whumph on the barn floor, blinking sleep from his eyes and simultaneously trying to gain his bearings while trying to tell his lungs that he wasn’t upset with them, he was sorry for abusing them, and he’d try to make a point of not knocking the wind from them again. “Ah can’t hardly bake, ah’m not strong enough t’ buck trees, an’ now ah can’t even fix a single, stupid, stubborn ol’ boat!”

Knowing that his fillyfriend had a tendency to freak out and not yet fully awake, Rumble sat up, heaved a tremendous yawn that left him glassy eyed, and let his ears train his eyes over to a large pile of hay that had was either terribly upset with gaining sentience, or housed a heartbroken filly. Assuming it to be the latter, the faithful coltfriend hoisted himself upright, made his way over while ignoring the disaster area to his right, and took a seat at the base of the hay.

“Applebloom? Um... are you ok?” he asked, prodding the the filly bomb with a tentative hoof. Were he more awake, he might not have asked such a glaringly obvious question, but he soon had his answer as the glowering filly batted his hoof away and popped just the top of her head out of the hay, fixing twin daggers on Rumble and impressing upon him that physical contact with the wroth mallet goddess would likely result in hospitalization.

“No, ah ain’t ok!” she stated with flagrant annoyance. “Ah’m a failure, an’ a two-timer, an’... an’ just a plain ol’ horrible pony!” Having said her piece, she disappeared into the dried out stalks amidst much rustling. Rumble ignored the first point, given that it was just a ridiculous notion, and quickly tossed out the third along with it, leaving only the subject of infidelity left to confront.

“Rotterdam?” Rumble guessed, unable to hide his amusement as Applebloom popped out again, this time up to her waist.

“O’ course it was! What, like ah cuddle with any other boats? But... but just look at ‘im!” Applebloom wailed, pointing an accusing hoof at the craft with whom she was the mistress. Rumble hadn’t really noticed, but a glance told him he couldn’t well call it a boat anymore, as the heap of planks, glue, and nails didn’t resemble anything save a few of his “projects” that he had started at home but never finished. “The more ah try, the worse it gets! Ah’ve never found a single fence, door, house, or... or anythin’ else that ah couldn’t fix, but one lousy ol’ boat? It’s... it’s just awful what ah’ve done to ‘im! Ah’m just plain useless!”

Rumble wasn’t about to stand idly by while Applebloom was reduced to hay-muffled sobs on account of a lecherous boat. For a colt who was more likely to reproduce the domino effect simply by existing, hearing a filly with more skill than he could ever hope to claim slap herself with the term “useless” was simply unacceptable.

“Applebloom? You are not useless,” Rumble assured her with absolute confidence, striding towards the boat. Grumbles and mutters sounded behind him as he glanced around at her tools and sketches, not really understanding much of anything. She seems to fix everything with the mallet, so that’s probably my best bet. I’ve never used one before, but it seems simple enough.

Gingerly lifting the sacred artifact, Rumble took his place before the beast that would upset his filly and gauged his prey. Senility had convinced the time-worn vessel that it was half passed Nightmare Night, and it had cleverly concealed its identity as a skiff by impersonating swiss cheese. With his heart set on making Applebloom smile and hooves trained in accidental destruction, the best of intentions prompted a mighty swing of the magical mallet. Rumble soon learned that it took on the properties of the wielder, and thus operated much like its lesser cousin known as the hammer, a “toy” with which he had great fun smashing his other toys as a child. Applebloom would have said something right away were she not morbidly impressed with the way the butt of the ship had just exploded into matchwood from a single, mighty swing.

“...oopsh,” Rumble muttered around the handle, staring at the fruits of his labor and wondering if he should take a few moments to sweep up the splinters. Applebloom, however, was far more important than the remnants of Rotty’s hindquarters, and thus he proceeded to swing twice and then thrice before Applebloom interrupted him mid swing with a terrifying howl of misery. Rumble lost his grip on the backswing, sending the mallet sailing gracefully through the air and crashing through the roof of the barn, and his ears drooped along with his wings as he beheld Applebloom’s crestfallen features. “I-”

“You killed ‘im!” Applebloom cried, pointing a trembling hoof at the downcast colt who could only hang his head in shame. “You killed Rotty, an’ now he’s dead!”

“I don’t think he was ever alive, Applebloom. It’s...” The slamming of the barn door cut off what remained of the colt’s pitiful explanation, and there he sat by a craft that was horrendously scuttled and irrevocably deceased. “I just wanted to help...” Rumble pouted, stubbornly folding his hooves across his chest. It wasn’t long until said hooves retracted and followed his eyes to the ground as he sighed, wondering how many times he’d said those words and knowing it was too many to count. Creaking hinges announced the presence of another, and assuming it was a certain livid filly come to apply some cosmetic rearrangement of his facial features, he made no motion to run.

“Rumble?” Slightly confused that he was still conscious, it took the colt a little while to turn, though when he did he was surprised to find Sweetie Belle trotting over. “Have you seen... woah, what happened?” the filly exclaimed, stepping around the debris and regarding the derelict craft with no small measure of worry.

“I’d... rather not talk about it,” Rumble said quietly, cringing a little and turning away. “If you’re looking for Applebloom, she ran off a little while ago. I want to see her and try to apologize, but... I dunno if that’s a good idea.”

“I hate to say it, but you’re probably right,” Sweetie Belle agreed, glancing over at the sullen pegasus before turning back towards the partially embalmed wood corpse smattered with glue. “I have something to tell her, and she’ll probably be less likely to attack if there are two of us there. Come on, we’ll face her together.”

“Really? Thanks, Sweetie Belle,” Rumble replied, offering a rueful smile as they left the barn and started towards the clubhouse at Sweetie Belle’s behest. Given that Sweetie Belle had known Applebloom longer, the colt followed without complaint, nodding as the filly went on to explain that the clubhouse was the most likely spot she’d run to, given that there were plenty of arts and crafts supplies with which to distract her from the mess in the barn. Along the way, Rumble gave a brief synopsis of the previous night and all of the “mishaps” that occurred, creating within Sweetie Belle a strange mixture of mirth and embarrassment, along with a heaping dose of sympathy for the colt who was clearly trying his best. “I just can’t seem to do anything right today...” the colt lamented as the tree fort came into view. “She’s got good reason to be mad at me. I just keep messing stuff up!”

“Well, yeah, it kinda sounds that way, but she’s still with you,” Sweetie Belle pointed out with reassuring confidence. “She didn’t tell you to leave when you busted her boat. Anypony she didn’t like who had done that would have had to flee for their lives, but she left instead. That means she still likes you, ‘cause she’s not trying to kill you! Does that make sense?”

“Uh huh?” came the quizzical response. Rumble found her words strangely comforting, though he was forced to hold onto that sentiment for dear life as they entered the fort and found conditions to be worse than anticipated. Applebloom had tipped open a sizable chest full of stationery, snatched up a bottle of her favorite shimmering adhesive, and commandeered the thinking spot as the ideal location to make it rain rosen. Such behavior was clearly indicative of something being quite amiss, but no smile came to the ashen faced filly seemingly unaware that the stream shooting up was also coming back down upon her head. Sweetie Belle looked at Rumble, Rumble hung his head, and Applebloom paid neither of them any attention.

“Applebloom?” Sweetie Belle said cautiously, keeping a good distance away. Applebloom looked neither left nor right, but simply flinched a little as the gooey stream stopped for a short while, though this pause was the only sign that she was responsive. With no verbal confirmation and the fountain of glue once more spouting in all it’s bright-hued splendor, Sweetie Belle glanced over at Rumble who sat shuffling nervously by her side. “Rumble, forget about the boat; where’s her bow? She never leaves without it!” Sweetie Belle asked in a frantic whisper, growing increasingly concerned for the colt’s health as a guilty muzzle hung lower.

“I kinda... puked on it.”

“You what?!?” Sweetie Belle exclaimed, clapping a hoof over her mouth as Applebloom slowly turned her head, fixed Rumble with a pointed glare, and sneezed due to some glue attempting to explore her nasal passageways. Sweetie Belle wisely chose not to speak until the filly’s eyes were pointed straight ahead, and the relaxing trickle of glue running a bit faster as more rained down. “Ok, this may seem really out of place, Rumble, but she’s has to be head over hooves for you. I don’t think she’d let even me get away with that!”

“That’s... really not that comforting,” Rumble murmured, his muzzle creased into a worried frown as Applebloom grew progressively less recognizable. “Does she always get like this when she’s upset?”

“This is way more than upset, Rumble,” Sweetie Belle corrected. “Applebloom has kind of a... fixation on glitter glue. She only uses it on stuff she really cares about, so if she’s wasting it like this, it means she’s way beyond just a little annoyed. Sheesh... did anything else happen?”

“I tried to help.”

“Ya failed.” It was the first thing Applebloom had said since Rumble had arrived, and his heart fell as she continued looking straight ahead. The colt sat silent until a gentle hoof on his shoulder and a nod bid him continue his tale.

“You know that boat?” he began again, this time in a whisper.

“You mean the hunk of rotten wood in her barn?” the young unicorn replied in an equally dulled tone. “Yeah, why?”

“Well... I spent most of the morning sleeping,” Rumble explained, briefly making eye contact before looking away. “When I woke up, she had buried herself in a pile of hay. The boat wasn’t coming along very well, and she was shouting about how useless she was, so... I tried to help.”

“Useless?” Sweetie Belle repeated, no longer whispering on account of justifiable indignation. “She’s nothing of the sort! I’d give my horn to have her kind of talent! I mean, have you seen me try to sew? Or do anything with my hooves, really?”

“Nuh uh.”

“It always comes out a complete disaster! Applebloom, that’s ridiculous!” Sweetie Belle declared, trotting over and plopping down in front of the vaguely responsive filly. “You spend nearly every day helping out somewhere in someway, so you have no right to call yourself useless! Besides, just look at Rumble; he breaks everything!”

“Uh huh! Wait a second...”

“Ah’m perfectly aware how skilled Rumble is at breakin’ things,” Applebloom stated flatly, not bothering to pay him the dignity of eye contact. “Ah’m sure ah’d have figured out some way o’ fixin’ that poor ship if ah had enough time t’ calm down an’ think, but now ah’ll never be able t’ fix ‘im! I have Lord Cannonhoof, King o’ Destruction, lesser minion o’ demolition, an’ bringer o’ all things disastrous t’ thank fer that.” Sweetie Belle tilted her head to the side and leaned over, making eye contact with a colt who’s guilty eyes checked off all of the above.

“So...”

“Remember how I said I helped?”

“Yeah?”

“It... didn’t work.”

“Didn’t work... how? Wait, you did that to the boat?”

“Yeah...” Rumble trailed off, rubbing his foreleg with a hoof and staring at the ground. “If it dried out, it might make decent kindling...” As if to punctuate Applebloom’s thoughts on the subject, there came a rather rude noise from a glue bottle spraying its last as the fuming filly turned her glowering gaze to a cowering colt. “It was my first time using a mallet, ok? You make it look really easy!”

“Three swings, Sweetie Belle. That’s all it took fer him t’ break the whole dang thing!” Applebloom whined, searching her friend’s face for sympathy. “You saw poor Rotty! He weren’t big, but he weren’t that small, either! Ah mean, how is that even physically possible?” Instead of being snatched into a caring embrace where her ears were tickled by the sultry sound of much deserved ranting directed at the destroyer of derelict dinghies, what she heard was an excited exclamation and the clop of two hooves pounding together.

“Yes! I’m not the only one who’s cursed! High hoof, Rumble!” While his hoof had been raised to make a defense, Sweetie Belle’s swipe couldn’t be dodged, and even as covered in goop as Applebloom was, the stare with which Rumble soon was fixed was enough to make him wish he were standing trial before Applejack instead. Sweetie Belle was quite unashamedly prancing with joy that she wasn’t the only cursed pony in Ponyville until she noticed Rumble’s regrettable position, and not wanting to lose her new companion in catastrophe, she came to a halt and adopted an appropriately apologetic expression as she took a few steps closer to the raging filly.

“Look, he can’t help it, Applebloom. Ponies like us just...”

“Ah don’t wanna hear it!” Applebloom cried, tossing aside the exhausted bottle and standing to face the two with barely restrained tears of frustration. “Even if Twilight came an’ used her fancy magic t’ put it all back together again, ah wouldn’t be able t’ fix it! Y’all already made that clear enough!” Roughly knocking Rumble aside in her haste, Applebloom bolted down the ramp and into the trees, heading back towards the farmhouse while Sweetie Belle helped Rumble upright, even though he didn’t particularly feel like moving.

“Well, you’re still alive, at least...” Sweetie Belle offered, her empty chuckles doing little to alleviate the tension. Rumble didn’t respond, but rather slowly made his way over to where the distraught filly had been sitting and did the same, positioning himself in the center of the glue ring Applebloom had left in her wake. As was customary, Sweetie Belle held her silence out of respect for the thinking spot, and after a few minutes, Rumble lifted his head and spoke.

“I have to do something for her, something that shows how sorry I am for messing everything up. I just can’t think of what...”

“I’m sure you’ve done plenty, Rumble,” Sweetie Belle pressed. She couldn’t help but feel sorry for the cursed pegasus, what with his plans being thwarted at every turn; it was a frustration with which she was well acquainted. “I don’t know why she was so attached to that boat in the first place. It was in horrible shape when she found it, and I bet she could build an even better one!”

“That’s it!” Rumble exclaimed, snapping back to life. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that before! It’s so simple, even I can’t mess it up! Thanks, Sweetie Belle!” Using doors was for ponies not in a hurry, and given that Rumble couldn’t count himself anything other than frantic to be about his work, he leapt for the window and was perfectly fine until a voice called out behind him.

“Rumble, wait!” Attempting rather unsuccessfully to un-leap while already half in, half out of the window resulting in a colt’s hind leg catching on the window sill, and Sweetie Belle immediately regretted opening her mouth as the colt smacked into the side of the clubhouse before spiraling down to the ground and landing in a dazed heap of limbs and feathers. “Oh my gosh, are you ok?” Sweetie Belle called out from above, just hearing the sound having been enough to make her wince and giving her a deeper understanding Applebloom’s diatribe at school a few days back about how unlucky her coltfriend seemed to be.

“Nuh uh...” he chuckled, coughing a little as he rolled onto his back and staring up at the fuzzy filly spinning in the distance. “What is it, Sweetie Belle?”

“Well, assuming you’re not hospitalized by a mallet or some horrific accident by the end of the day, Scootaloo and I are trying to gather everypony together for a night at the tavern. So, um, try to stay safe so you can both come, ok?”

“Uh huh! See ya!” Nearly clipping a few low-hanging boughs on his haphazard ascent, Rumble circled up over the farm and took off towards the local knowledge dump, certain he could find what he was searching for amongst the many tomes kept by a lavender librarian. It wasn’t long until the grandiose oak tree came into view, but as was common for Rumble, math ruined his day with things like physics and gravity, his excitement producing haste which in turn led to acceleration towards the inevitable use of the front door for brakes. A squeal of excitement echoed out over a colt’s sullen groans, and the librarian in training popped her head out of the door and gave the colt a little bit of advice.

“Not s’posed ta open doors with ya head,” Dawn informed Rumble in a sage tone. “Heads are for thinking, an’ reading... not doors.”

“Dawn? Who are you talking to? You know you’re not supposed to answer the- oh goodness, Rumble. That looks painful!” Twilight exclaimed, glancing down at colt’s reddening forehead. “Come on inside. Dawn, could you go get some ice for mommy?”

“Kay~!” the filly cheered, taking two steps inside before hollering at the top of her lungs. “Dad~! Mom needs ice!” Twilight led Rumble to the couch to lay down while Cerulean descended the stairs, trotting over and gingerly moving aside the colt’s hooves.

“That looks like a rough landing if ever there was one,” the stallion mused, his horn glowing briefly as a small pile of snow formed atop the colt’s head to soothe the inflammation. “There, feel any better?”

“Uh huh! Thanks, um...”

“Cerulean. I take care of that one,” he started, pointing at Dawn, “and keep this one sane,” he concluded, pointing at Twilight. “I also dance, but that’s not always appropriate for children.”

“Dad, no bein’ naughty! Little ears!” Dawn exclaimed, bouncing from the couch and bopping her father on the head before darting away in a trail of giggles and mane as Cerulean gave chase.

“Sorry that we’re not very quiet for a library,” Twilight said, grinning unashamedly at Rumble who didn’t seem to mind the chatter and crashes as a foam block war commenced with gusto. “So, what brings you here? Did you need a book?”

“Uh huh!” he replied enthusiastically, laughing a little as Twilight paused in shock.

“That’s wonderful! I can’t even remember the last time somepony actually came to the library for a book!” Twilight laughed, clapping her hooves merrily. “Could it be a book on magic? Wait, that wouldn’t make sense, because you’re a pegasus! Flight theories, perhaps? You could probably use a little, given how you crashed like that. Oh! Maybe wing theory? String theory? The history of theory and its direct application to hypotheses?!?” Rumble stared at the books floating before him a moment and shook his head with a smile.

“Nuh uh!”

“Awww, I thought for sure I had you at wing theory,” Twilight pouted, dropping all but the thick tome she now held before her. “Ok, well, what did you need?”

“Do you have anything about building a boat?”

“Carpentry for Sea Biscuits: Revised Edition! Oh, now where did I put that? Was it alphabetically, or by category?” the mare wondered aloud, pulling down book after book as the block war escalated into forbidden territory. “Dawn, no throwing books!” Twilight chided, pausing her search long enough to give the filly a reproving frown.

“Dad started it!” Cackling maliciously as the azure stallion immediately erected a chest high wall of books, he playfully cowered behind his fortress as the destroyer came near.

“Care to explain?”

“Certainly?”

“Oh? I’m listening.”

“Carpentry for Sea Biscuits?” he offered with a cheeky grin, holding the tome out with both hooves. Twilight accepted the offereing, breezed through a few pages, and slapped it shut before giving Cerulean her best librarian glare.

“I’ll let it slide this time, mister.”

“Awww!” Dawn groaned, disappointed in such an anti-climactic finish, though she was soon content to snuggle up beside her father as he started to read her a children’s story, bringing it to life with ice sculptures and all manner of silly voices.

“Here you go. This should have everything you’ll ever need to know about boats great and small!” Twilight declared, setting the book down in the colt’s lap. Curious himself, he breezed through a few pages, his brow furrowed in concentration as he came to the conclusion he couldn’t make heads or tails of the complex terminology or diagrams, but that wasn’t going to stop him.

“This is perfect! Thanks, Twilight,” Rumble cheered, closing the tome and wiping away the melted snow from his brow as an excited exclamation in a comically skewed tone bid them both turn and look at the narrator and his enthralled audience of one. That foal looks so happy... I wish my parents took the time to teach me like that... Shaking his head, Rumble slid off the couch and moved towards the door. I have too much work to do to be thinking like that. Applebloom’s upset, and in the name of Celestia, I’m gonna fix it!

Taking off as abruptly as he would have entered if there had been no door, Rumble clutched the book to his chest as he made for a low flying cloud, and after settling in, he cracked open the book and began his research. The better part of an hour passed while he was sifting through the pages, looking at the various crafts and the materials needed, and quickly came to the conclusion that building a boat was going to be a lot more work than he had anticipated. Perhaps not as much work as dating two mares at once, the colt thought with a laugh, but it was still a formidable undertaking, and if they were gonna make it to the tavern on time, then he didn’t have a moment to lose.

“Come on, Applebloom, it ain’t that bad.” Applejack’s motherly tone was largely lost on her sister who had spent most of her afternoon in what ranked in her mind far beyond a justifiable huff. Applebloom pulled her muzzle from her glass of juice just long enough to roll her eyes before returning for another sip. “Look, Rumble seems like a real nice colt, an’ ah know he wasn’t tryin’ t’ break yer boat. That poor ol’ thing was well past it’s prime, an’ even as talented as you are, it’d have taken three Twilights t’ get that thing shipshape again.”

“That doesn’t mean that Rumble needed t’ go an’ make it four Twilights!” Applebloom exclaimed, throwing her hooves wide. “Sis, why’re you sidin’ with him? He’s been nothin’ but trouble today! Ah mean... don’t ah get a little sympathy? He puked on me!” Applejack tried her best to stifle her amusement, but a chuckle or two slipped out nonetheless, leading Applebloom to the conclusion that she hadn’t quite made her point. “It was gross, sis! It was in mah hair, an’ mah mane, an’ it even got on mah bow! It was the worst mornin’ ever!” Having finished her tale of woe, the filly planted her face to the table with a reverberating thump, leading Applejack away from the sink where dishes from the previous evening’s meal still waited to be cleaned and over to her sister who, whether she knew it or not, was sending off love sparks left and right.

“All right, settle down, now,” Applejack cooed, taking a seat beside the and draping a hoof around her shoulders. “Ah’m not tryin’ t’ say you don’t have reason t’ be upset. None o’ what you’ve told me sounds like any kind o’ fun, but have ya stopped t’ think about how Rumble must be feelin’ right now?” Curious and not quite following the implications, Applebloom rubbed her snout with a hoof while giving her attention to Applejack.

“If ah were him, ah’d be halfway through buildin’ a boat by now. Anythin’ less wouldn’t even come close t’ coverin’ bustin’ up mah stuff...” Applebloom fired back weakly, heaving a sigh. “Fine, sis, ah know. He’s probably feelin’ pretty miserable with ‘imself.”

“Ah’d say he probably feels a lot worse than miserable, sugarcube,” Applejack chortled, rustling her sister’s mane and laughing as her hoof was batted away. “Listen, speakin’ as somepony who has woken their significant other with a rain o’ vomit...”

“You did that t’ Silver?” Applebloom interjected, incredulous.

“More than once, sugarcube,” Applejack confirmed, hiding her face in mock embarrassment for a moment before peaking out with a wry grin. “He’s a great husband, Applebloom. Mornin’ sickness hit me pretty hard a month or two back, and it wasn’t pleasant. Ah think his response the first time was somethin’ like ‘Sweetheart, now that just ain’t polite.’” The two girls shared a short laugh at this, and Applejack got right back to making her point. “I’m sure he wasn’t too pleased by wakin’ to a mountain o’ chum bein’ dumped on his head, but he noticed pretty quick that ah felt a whole lot worse about the whole thing than he did. Ah’d never do somethin’ like that on purpose, but accidents happen, an’ more often than not, the one who caused it ends up feelin’ the worst out o’ everypony.”

“Awww, shucks! Now ah really do feel terrible!” Applebloom cried, planting her face to the table and groaning before straightening up and staring down at the unmoving furniture. “Ah’ve been hidin’ in here all day, waitin’ for ‘im t’ come beggin’ fer mercy... he’s probably been feelin’ right ashamed o’ himself all afternoon! Now ah’m the one who needs t’ find a way to say sorry...”

“Gifts are always nice, Bloom, but ah think he’d be even happier if ya just apologized fer gettin’ so bent outta shape.”

Ah don’t know how mah sister got so smart, but she’s right! Rumble ain’t the type t’ be all demandin’ and wantin’ stuff! Even still, ah’d like to do somethin’ for ‘im fer bein’ such a cranky ol’ coot. Must be from spendin’ all that time around Rotty...“Ah bet... he ain’t had lunch yet, bein’ so worried. Maybe ah should take him a little somethin’ to eat?”

“Sounds like a swell idea, sugarcube. Just sit tight an’ ah’ll whip up a nice basket o’ goodies t’ share with ‘im.” The Apple family fridge was never short on all manner of sweet treats, and after a few more minutes Applebloom had her gift and was making for the door when a cheery voice hailed her from behind.

“Hold it! Where’re you rushin’ off to, eh?” Granny Smith inquired, taking slow step towards the filly. Applebloom set the basket down and was about to protest when wrinkled eyes creased in accordance with a warming smile as the wise old mare presented the filly with her ribbon, spotless and smelling faintly of roses. “Can’t have you goin’ anyplace lookin’ like that, no way, no how! Gotta look your best fer Rumble!” Blushing lightly, Applebloom sat still while her granny tied her bow just perfect, rambling about her escapades as a mare with countless suitors. “Oh, don’t you look adorable! Now, if he don’t treat ya right, just tell yer granny and I’ll court martial that sorry excuse for a colt faster than you can say zap apple jam!”

“Thanks, granny, but ah don’t think he’s the one you gotta worry about,” Applebloom replied, scuffing awkwardly at the floor.

“Applebloom, you’re right precious,” Granny Smith said softly, hooking the filly with a shaky hoof, “an’ I know that Rumble feller sees it, too. Go on, off with you, then,” she suddenly exclaimed, shoving the filly towards the door and nudging the basket over. “Oh, and keep it down, eh? Don’t wanna get yer sister on yer tail!”

“Granny, what’re you tellin’ Applebloom?” Applejack asked, trotting over with a skeptical expression.

“Eh, what’s that? I hear the coffee pot callin’ fer me!” Granny Smith shouted. Showing complete disregard for her age, the mare skipped away like a young ram amidst uproarious off-key singing. Snatching up the basket and hoping that Applejack hadn’t caught sight of her cheeks on the way out, the filly galloped towards the clubhouse while her thoughts drifted back to the first time she’d seen Rumble upset. Determination to bring a smile to her long suffering companion rose to quell the tides of worry that would stay her hoof, and she pushed all thoughts from her mind save those focused on the colt she found regrettably absent.

This ain’t good at all. Ah hope he ain’t holed up somewhere, feelin’ bad about himself... Ah gotta find him, an’ fast! She searched the orchard row by row and made a round or two through town, but even talking to Thunderlane yielded nothing to guide her to her special somepony. Hope began to waver as wearied hooves brought the filly back home, and after Applejack assured her she hadn’t missed him in passing, she trudged towards the barn with a heavy heart. It was there, back where things had first gone awry and her temper had gotten the best of her once again, that she found the very one she sought snoring softly on his side, illuminated by golden shafts of sunlight and the flitting dust motes that sparkled like diamonds in the afternoon rays.

“Oh, Rumble... ah’m sorry fer makin’ you wait...” the filly whispered, setting her gift basket to the side as she drew near and took a seat beside his slumbering form. Lulled by the inviting warmth beaming down through the window, the filly closed her eyes and began running a hoof through his sun-warmed mane with welling affection, unable to keep from smiling as a soft sigh slipped out between the dull murmurs of sleep. We ain’t doin’ much of anythin', but mah hearts racin’ just like the first time he talked t’ me. Ah guess... all it takes is a little time away fer me t’ realize how much ah wanna come back.

Amber eyes opened to gaze upon her treasure, one more worthy of affection than even the most glittery bottle of glue that bits could buy, and this she did for a few more minutes before something caught the corner of her eye. A book? Ah didn’t know that Rumble liked t’ read. Applebloom pondered what it could possibly be from a distance, but if she wanted to actually read the title, she would have had to move, so she didn’t sate her curiosity right away. It wasn’t until the notion that she could learn a little bit more about what he liked came to her that she reluctantly gave his mane one more tousle before pulling away and discovering that, no, the only information she’d find was that which she already knew: Rumble = Best Coltfriend Ever.

“No, he didn’t... did he really?” She didn’t make it even halfway through the first page she turned to know that he had. From material calculations to complete schematics, everything that she could ever need to know how to build a craft to be proud of was there in detail, but what brought tears of simple joy to a young girl’s eyes wasn’t the anticipation of starting her next big project, but desire and adoration for the one who, even in her craziness, had found a way to tell her she was loved. The tome in her grasp wasn’t worthy of her affection, so she moved her hooves to one that was: a clumsy colt with a beautiful heart.

Waking to Applebloom that very morning had been one of Rumble’s most cherished memories despite lasting mere moments before an evening of dissipation came back to ruin the it, but coming to and finding himself secure in her loving embrace while not gripped by gut-churning nausea was as close as Rumble could imagine to pure bliss. Like a wind-swept wildfire, the tingling embers of affection flared to outclass Celestia’s sun, and Rumble found himself robbed of words with his cheeks flushed crimson. With the scent of flowers tickling his nose and bathed in the tides of forgiveness, Rumble lay secure in Applebloom’s embrace until the filly pulled away, peering back at the colt holding something to his chest.

“Applebloom, I... here.” Unable to hide his muzzle arrayed in deepening hues of crimson like a brilliant evening sunset, Rumble made one last peace offering as he handed a bottle over to Applebloom who sat up and cradled the gift as she would a foal. To most, what she held in her hooves was nothing more than a simple decoration: a novelty, admired once or twice and then shelved to collect dust until eventually being given away or sold. It was a boat in a bottle, though to Applebloom, it was so much more.

“I wanted to build you a boat to show how sorry I was for messing up the other one,” the colt explained, bashfully averting his eyes while stealing the occasional glance at the awestruck filly. “I got that book and was super excited, but then I went to the store, and I didn’t have nearly enough money to get all the stuff, and I couldn’t understand the instructions, so... I’m sorry, Applebloom. That’s the best I could do...”

“It’s... it’s perfect, Rumble...” Applebloom whispered, pressing the gift to her chest and closing her eyes, smiling even as a few more tears seeped out. Rumble could have asked for anything at that moment, and so deeply moved by the colt’s genuine care that she likely would have obliged, but greed was absent and lust vacant as he closed the distance and drew her close, placing one hoof around her shoulders and bringing the other around to gently stroke her mane. Already feeling tremendously pampered, Applebloom melted completely to a tender kiss on the cheek. She wondered where she would go from here, what she could possibly do to show the colt who had given her everything how much she truly appreciated every moment of patience and understanding, but at home in Rumble’s loving embrace, the filly realized there was really only one path left to take: give everything back.

A gentle touch to his hoof brought Rumble momentary confusion before it turned to breathtaking wonder. Applebloom wordlessly guided his hoof from its place on her neck up a little higher as she pulled away, bowing her head as she allowed him an honor that was for him and him alone. Rumble didn’t know what was happening until his hoof was guided to a rest atop her bow, a closely guarded treasure and the last memento Applebloom had to remember her mother. Peering up from a position of absolute acceptance, the filly decided that for just a little while, her fiery spirit and hot temper would be better exchanged for gentleness.

“Everythin’ that went wrong today was an accident, an’ ah still got all bent out o’ shape,” Applebloom said softly, dropping her gaze down to the floor. “Ah said things ah didn’t mean, ah hurt yer feelings, and how’d you respond?” Sensing the filly’s distress, a once immobile hoof slowly began to caress a fabric of soft pink, proving her point even further. “Sweetness, just like that...”

“Uh huh...” Rumble replied, coaxing out a smile in return for his own. “Applebloom, I’m gonna tell you a secret, ok? I think it’s really, you know... cute the way you spaz.”

“You’re gonna make mah heart explode with that kind o’ flattery,” she murmured, laughing a little and cherishing the sound as Rumble did the same. “You’ve been everythin’ ah could ever hope for in a friend and more, so,” she paused, taking one of the colt’s hooves and cupping it in her own, “please, Rumble, let me do somethin’ fer you. Ask me anythin’ you want, an’ if ah can give it, it’s yours.” Of all the times for Rumble to go silent, that had to be the worst. Applebloom could admit that she’d basically just told the colt to make a wish, and having a single shot at making a dream come true could and should merit due thought, but the hesitancy clouding violet eyes that had been filled with mirth just a few moments prior gave the filly pause, leading her to really think about what it was she’d just offered.

Ah really did mean it, Rumble, but why’d you have to go an’ get all quiet like? Oh, what if he asks fer somethin’ ah can’t give? What if he asks me never to get angry again? Ah don’t think ah could ever be as laid back as he is, ah just ain’t that way! An’ what if he wants me t’ stop hangin’ around mah friends so ah’ve got more time fer him? Ah don’t think ah could ever do without Sweetie Belle an’ Scootaloo... We’ve been through so much together! What if... he asks fer mah bow? Trying to get a read on the colt who sat deep in thought was about as fruitful as a berry bush buried under a foot of snow in the dead of winter, and Applebloom’s gaze dropped down to the hoof that lay cradled in hers. It might be painful, but... whatever you ask, Rumble. Ah’ll do mah best...

“Teach me.” It was such a simple request, but one that couldn’t have been more frightening for the colt to ask, and amber eyes filled with puzzlement and relief lifted to regard the colt whose voice was laced with hesitancy and a terrible longing.

“Teach you?” Applebloom replied quizzically, tilting her head a little. “Uh, ah ain’t no Cheerilee, but ah guess ah could give it a shot. What exactly is it that you want to learn?”

“When I was three, my parents... offered to let me help,” Rumble began to explain, garnering complete attention from Applebloom. “They were working on some machine, I can’t even remember what. All I remember is that within minutes, I had caused almost two thousand bits in damages. They never offered to let me help again after that.” Applebloom could feel the heartbreak even as the colt tried to stay strong, holding back the tides that were already forming in the corners of his eyes, and deciding that a hoof wasn’t enough to hold, she wrapped her hooves around his waist, nodding for him to continue.

“I hate being a bother, and I know that I’m always breaking things so I never dared to ask, but maybe if somepony took the time to teach me how to do things right, I wouldn’t mess everything up so often. Please, Applebloom... can you teach me how to build, not break?” The colt’s excitement at having been shown something as simple as the proper way to kick a tree suddenly made sense to Applebloom and brought back to mind her own experience that morning with having plans go awry, all while Rumble waited in yearning silence. Knowing that Applebloom was well aware of just how destructive the colt could be, Rumble braced himself for the myriad of likely well-founded excuses for why taking him on as an apprentice was just plain nuts, but instead of a stammered refusal or avid rebuttal, quiet words granted the colt’s longest standing unfulfilled dream in a whisper.

“There’s nothin’ ah’d love more... than having you workin’ by my side.” Assumptions and dejection alike were blasted away as a firm embrace melted along with a tender heart. Butter-colored hooves of a filly overjoyed cupped the gray muzzle of a colt most deserving, and the two met in the middle, their young hearts awash with affection. The motion of one reaching out to help her, a girl who was always the one giving help, had left Applebloom overjoyed when Rumble had “fixed” the roof, but to have this same treatment be the colt’s most solemn request? There was no shame in her heart as she leaned in deeper, surprising them both as a searing wave of youthful passion swept over them head to hoof, and a growing desire within Applebloom’s fluttering heart caused her to break their connection for a moment, gazing deeply upon the face still held within her hooves.

“Let’s... let’s do it together.” Imagine one lucky colt’s surprise at such an unexpected offer! However, Rumble wasn’t exactly the pervy sort, and thus he responded with genuine shock at the filly’s murmured invitation. Applebloom, confused as to why the colt was suddenly acting so fidgety, sniffed a little as he sputtered a few times and, finding speech to be quite the formidable task, resorted to a word he couldn’t mess up.

“...huh?!?”

“The boat?” Applebloom offered, confounding the colt even further by not only making the offer, but specifying the location. “Ah think we have enough materials layin’ around the farm t’ get a good start on it, an’ ah was thinkin’ that we could make it our little project.”

“Oh... phew!” Rumble said, heaving a sigh of relief as he placed a hoof over his erratically fluttering heart. “I thought... I mean you... me... and the, um...” Rumble felt a shiver race through him as Applebloom tilted her head to the side in abject confusion. “Nevermind.”

“Wait just an apple buckin’ minute here... what were you thinkin’ ‘bout just now?”

“Nothin’!” the colt yelped, pulling his hooves to his chest and staring back wide eyed as fearful comprehension came upon the filly, his flimsy rebuttal losing all potency as Applebloom watched his wings, already partially unfurled from a startlingly enthusiastic kiss just moments prior, shoot open with a poomf.

“Ah can’t believe you! Put those away before somepony sees!” Applebloom cried frantically, putting forth a hoof to “assist.”

“No, don’t touch them! That is not helping!” Rumble shouted, shuffling backwards and falling onto his back.

“Ah can’t believe you were thinkin’ like that! After bein’ so sweet with me...” Applebloom pouted, folding her hooves across her chest with a reproving frown.

“It’s not my fault! You said it funny!

“Ah did not!”

“Uh huh!”

“Nuh uh!”

“Uh huh!”

“Oh, hush! Do you really think I’m that kind o’ floozy?”

“Uh h- wait, no!”

“Rumble!”

“I didn’t mean it! I thought... it... I didn’t hear you right!”

“You’re gonna hear a lot less right when I find mah mallet!” Laughter, loud and sweet, echoed throughout the barn as chasing ensued. Agitation quickly subsided as Applebloom worked out her frustration with the colt’s justifiable misinterpretation amidst much pummeling via one of Winona’s squeaky toys, and having doled out enough punishment, Applebloom collapsed beside the snickering colt. They took a moment to rest as the afternoon stretched out before them, and Applebloom refused to restrain the ecstatic anticipation welling within her with every frantic beat of her heart

There would be lunch. There would be building. There would surely be mistakes, and there would likely be exasperation. Applebloom knew all of this even as she unpacked the temporarily forgotten gift basket, setting various foods before the famished colt who tucked right in, but as Rumble paused to offer an apologetic grin for his ravenous behavior, a smile, small and affectionate, spread across the young filly’s muzzle. There would be toils, there would be troubles, but overshadowing them all, there would be love... and glitter glue.

Melody of the Heart

Chapter 21: Melody of the Heart

The town of Ponyville lay still, wrapped in the final tender moments of Luna’s embrace as the moon dipped towards the horizon, bidding a fond farewell to the slumbering ponies and making way for her sister’s glory. Being one to whom staying awake into the wee hours of delirium was an average evening, going to bed early as he had the night before was a luxury rarely bestowed upon the young dragon and not one to be squandered. Even so, it was still an hour yet till daybreak when Spike awoke, stretching fitfully and heaving a massive yawn as he slowly eased himself upright, concluding with a contented sigh and the expulsion of a tuft of green flame. Perplexed by the calm of his heart, Spike sat stroking his covers thoughtfully as his mind drifted back to matters of the previous evening; a mire of mixed emotions and unsurety, all surrounding a little filly who made his heart skip.

Long had he pondered Twilight’s words, and Cerulean’s as well, making full use of the time that it took him to fall asleep at such an early hour the prior day. In the end, he’d come to realize that it was his own silence that had allowed Sweetie Belle to drive him bonkers with her pursuit of her first kiss fantasy, and if they were to grow together as friends and more, he’d have to make both apology and petition. Spike doubted it would be pleasant, and he was loathe to do anything that would make a filly sad, let alone one whose very smile shifted the steady rhythm of a simple heart to that of an erratic bongo solo, but he trusted Twilight more than anypony, even Sweetie Belle, and if anypony knew about friendship, it was her.

Friendship: deep, strong, and unbreakable. I should have known it wouldn’t be easy, but it’ll be worth it; all I have to do is look at Twilight to know that. That’s what I want most, Sweetie Belle... and hey! If you and I get married someday, that’d be amazing too. Sweetie Belle didn’t know just how similar she and Spike really were in regards to the wonder with which they held one another, and the dragon flopped back into bed as excitement coursed through his veins with an intoxicating mix of adrenaline and affection. His mind danced from memories of her laughter to dreams of a future spent together, and it wasn’t until he stopped to ponder how often he’d shared the feelings filling his heart that he began to calm, the sobering reply to his unvoiced question being one of regret.

I wonder how many times I’ve wanted to tell her how much she means to me, only to get all confused and mess it up? It wouldn’t have mattered to him if he could point to just one time where he’d managed to really show how he felt, but aside from the time he’d held the filly while she sobbed, cut deep when her honest intentions had brought nothing but her sister’s ire, he couldn’t name a single time he’d managed to be the type of dragon he felt Sweetie Belle deserved. I’ll find a way, Sweetie Belle. Just give me some time to think, and I’ll find a way.

With a spry leap and a mildly shocking amount of energy, the dragon left the warmth of his blankets and quietly tiptoed downstairs, taking care not to wake the indigo fiend. Not one to think on an empty stomach, Spike made straight to the kitchen to treat himself to a little brain food. Casting a glance upstairs for fear of being discovered, he fudged on the rules and took a seat on the couch, where he pondered his dilemma over a bowl of ice cream. The task of downing his morning meal didn’t last long in the face of his growing appetite, and thus he turned his eyes towards a different task as he licked his bowl clean, rinsed his dish, and returned to the main floor.

“Typical Twilight...” he chuckled softly, letting his gaze sweep over the cluttered room. There were a lot of books to re-shelf after a typical day of Twilight trying to juggle raising a foal and studying, but Spike met the waiting chore not with a groan, but a grin as he stooped to collect the first tome. The familiar activity allowed his mind to continue its rumination in the background, and it quickly became more of a therapy than a chore. Spike was soon humming to himself as he rolled around on the ladder, getting things ready to be ravaged.

He had just shelved a particularly bland looking tome before taking a second glance, pulling it out and checking the cover again. “Music Theory: Vol. 1” he read aloud, strangely enthralled with the idea. There’s something about this book... It’s like... it’s calling to me. Sliding down the ladder, he quietly shuffled over to the couch and cracked open the book with rising excitement, skipping past the introduction and diving right into chapter one. He read the first paragraph. He read the second. He almost even read the third, and then came to a brilliant deduction.

“Boooring.” Slapping the cover closed, Spike shelved the mass of wasted paper and continued his cleanup, but the dense lines of educational nonsense produced a strange yearning that refused to be ignored. Exasperated, he located the tome, pulled it halfway out, and shoved it back into place. “I’m not gonna learn anything from that,” he reasoned to himself, dismounting the ladder and beginning to pace. “I already know how to read sheet music, and writing it is just as simple. Why the hay do they need four hundred pages telling... whatever it was I just read?” Then, like Pinkie Pie or a freight train on well-oiled wheels, the identity of the strange urge within his mind blindsided the dragon without much warning.

“Music theory... music... of course, the piano!” Spike exclaimed, feeling slightly ridiculous that he hadn’t recognized the desire sooner for what it was. “I don’t want to read about music, I wanna make it!” Until he’d realized how it had given him and Sweetie Belle a way to bond, Spike had never held much of a passion for music. However, the time they’d spent together mashing keys, singing both properly and with reckless abandon, had made the hobby become something a little more meaningful to the dragon eagerly plodding down the steps into Twilight’s laboratory. Leaping onto the bench and cracking his knuckles, Spike gave his claws a wriggle, glanced at the pages waiting to be played, and snubbed them with a cheerful bit of improv.

Simple well-rehearsed stanzas quickly shifted towards the more complex as Spike became lost in the music. It was a common ground that allowed two young hearts of completely different upbringing and background to touch, and a gentle smile lit Spike’s features as he paused with his claws held in place, savoring the melody drifting upwards. “I wish Sweetie Belle were here. I really love hearing her sing...” He wasn’t alone in that, and he knew it. Sweetie Belle had actually garnered quite a following from her nights spent sharing her talent with all who would listen, singing for the tavern folk and even sometimes in the middle of the streets, wherever her heart desired.

She could probably have any colt she wanted in this town. Hay, she could probably even wow some colt from a classy, wealthy family in Canterlot, but no, she chose a tongue-tied dragon. His quiet smile grew a little wider as he pulled his claws away and just savored the filly’s favor. The dragon’s wistful revery came to an abrupt end at the sudden sound of discordant notes reverberating throughout the library, courtesy of an indigo cannonball who proposed with no great amount of subtlety that she’d like Spike to continue.

“Keep makin’ musics!” Dawn squealed, leaping onto the far left of the keys and startling Spike from his stool as deep, bassy notes made him quite certain of his wakefulness. Confused as to why the maestro was sleeping on the job after she’d so kindly given him a wakeup call, Dawn turned around amongst sporadic chords pressed by her delightfully musical hooves and peered down at Spike with a look that crossed perplexion and consternation. “What’re you doin’ on the floor? Can’t play like that.”

“I can’t play with you standing on the keys, either, Dawn,” Spike countered, chuckling as he rubbed his ringing ears. “Twilight doesn’t like you up this early, you know. You get all cranky later when you’re up this soon.”

“But... but you were making pretty musics...” the filly pouted, flopping down with a comical whang and dispelling a measure of her worries for a moment as she turned and stared at her flank. “My rump makin’ magic music.” Heartened by the dragon’s giggles, Dawn clambered down next to him as he took a seat and gathered her mane together, holding it over her lap like a blanket. “Just a little more listen? Please?”

“Ok, but only if you’re quiet!” Spike agreed, immediately stifling an excited squeal with a claw. “Oh, and can you go close the door? We wouldn’t wanna wake Twilight, now would we?”

“No like tired mommy. Mommy gets all rawr~!” Dawn agreed, growling softly and waving her hooves wildly for a moment before quietly making her way up to close the door, taking each step one at a time during the ascent to maximize her stealth. Spike waited patiently while she reached the summit, and the click of the latch signalled the pounding return of tiny hooves as Dawn scampered back down. Spike’s outstretched claw and warning came just a moment too late as the filly’s flowing mane, precious as it was infamous, was tread under hoof and led to her mode of descent shifting from running to tumbling for the last few steps.

“Dawn, are you ok?”

“Face... hurts...” the pouting mass of mane moped, massaging her snout as she stood and tottered over. Sniffling a little as she climbed up beside Spike, Dawn plopped down and gave her mane a justified bopping for being so naughty.

“Don’t worry, Dawn. Music can make ouchies all better!”

“Like kisses?”

“Uh... y-yeah, like those,” Spike murmured, flushing a little as his mind shifted not to a motherly remedy for minor wounds but a different motion shared with a certain filly for much different reasons.

“You thinkin’ ‘bout Sweebelle!” Dawn snickered, pointing at the faint crimson creeping into the guilty dragon’s cheeks.

“Do you want music or not?”

“I be quiet now,” Dawn said quickly, holding both hooves over her muzzle and meeting Spike’s feigned frustration with apologetic eyes. The dragon’s embrace was unexpected, though eagerly received as he leaned over and gave the bubbly filly a quick squeeze, being actually quite grateful for her antics. With his heart on the rising star of Ponyville and an audience of one, Spike closed his eyes and began to play once more. Tiny hooves clapped along with the rousing refrains, and for a time, both were lost in a chamber filled with skillfully conjured melodies, but the clapping slowly came to a halt as Spike paused, gazing off into some unseen land.

“What wrong with you?” Dawn asked, growing slightly flustered that her honest inquiry into the musician’s well-being had resulted in laughter. “I tryin’ to be nice, Spike! Not nice to laugh.”

“Sorry, Dawn, I wasn’t trying to be mean,” Spike assured the filly, grinning back at her. “Say, you’re really smart, right?”

“‘Course! I read lotsa books, just like mommy an’ daddy!”

“Ok, well, I’ve got a problem, and I was wondering if maybe you could help me?”

“Do my best!” the filly asserted with great confidence, turning around to face the dragon fully and nearly sending him into a fit of giggles as she adopted an intense expression of total concentration.

“Well, I’ve got a friend that’s really special to me, and...”

“Sweebelle?” Dawn interjected, needing all the facts.

“Sheesh, is it that obvious?” Spike muttered under his breath, smiling as he dropped his head a little in homage to the filly’s intellect. “Yes, Dawn, it’s Sweetie Belle. See, the thing is, I need to talk to her about something really important, but I know it’s gonna make her sad. I was just wondering if there’s some way I could make it easier for her.”

“Hmmm...” Dawn murmured, cradling her chin in both hooves as she cocked her head to the left, and then to the right, drawing from the well of wisdom. It turns out that it ran deep, and Spike was left in awe to one of life’s greatest mysteries: the wisdom of a pure heart. “Sometimes, daddy puts me in time out ‘cause I be naughty, an’ that makes me sad. But then he gives me hugs, an’ I feel happy! If you make Sweebelle sad, needa make her happy again.” The truth of her simple words were as plain to Spike as Pinkie Pie’s laudable attempt at diplomacy between pony and buffalo and the message of which she sang, and Dawn squeaked in surprise as she was swept from the bench and twirled around.

“Dawn, you’re a genius!” Spike laughed, holding the dizzy filly at arm’s length while her eyes spun circles trying to focus: the dragon seemed to have gotten caught on a merry-go-round, though it was thankfully slowing to a stop. “If I know something’s gonna make her upset, then I just have to make sure I have something extra special to cheer her up afterwards! Oh, this changes everything!”

“I help?” Dawn asked as she was set down, peering up at Spike with hopeful eyes.

“You were a huge help, Dawn!” Spike assured her, giving the ecstatic filly a pound. “Now, if I can just figure out what to get her...”

“Music heals ouchies!” the filly exclaimed, leaping onto the bench and playing a few scattered notes before whirling around. “Play Sweebelle a pretty song an’ make her happy after you be a mean meanie head an’ make her sad!”

“How did you get so smart, exactly?” Spike asked, more to himself than to the filly whose answer was immediate.

“Mommy.”

“Oh? Then how do you explain falling down the stairs?”

“Daddy.”

“That... totally makes sense.”

“Duh!” Dawn explained, rolling her eyes. “I’ma genius, ‘member?”

“Yes, you are,” Spike reaffirmed, joining in on the filly’s giggles with some laughter of his own. “I owe you big time, Dawn. Is there something I could help you with? I could read you a story, or teach you how to make a checklist like mommy, or...” Dawn’s eyes went wide as a rather unladylike rumble sounded from her gut, and after telling her tummy to hush itself, she thought for a few more moments before springing to life.

“Pannycakes!” the foal cried, leaping into the air. “Spike, want pannycakes an’ syrup! Lots an’ lots of syrup, an’... an’ sprinkles! Please~?” the filly begged, latching onto the dragon’s foot and beaming back with eyes that just couldn’t be told no.

“You want me to make you pancakes at the crack of dawn... with syrup that’s full of sugar... and then add even more sugar to it with sprinkles? Do you have any idea what Twilight would do to me?” Spike shot back with an incredulous look. He couldn’t hold out for more than a moment as the filly’s features fell. “Well... alright, you got yourself a bargain, Dawn. You’ve earned it. But you gotta-”

“Yay~! Pannycakes an’ sprinkles!” the filly cried, dashing up the steps and throwing open the doors with a bang.

“...stay quiet,” Spike finished, shaking his head as he followed suit. A mild warning garnered an adequate level of compliance, though Dawn continued to bounce in her seat until being served with the first batch pancakes. As promised, the steaming breakfast confectionary was lathered in liberal doses of syrup and dusted with rainbow colored sprinkles. In the face of such deliciousness, and lacking a strong authority figure, manners were eschewed and many mouthfuls chewed before Dawn stopped halfway to a filly food coma. She offered no resistance as Spike wiped her hooves and muzzle with a warm washcloth before she trudged over to the couch and plopped down onto her side, content to spend the rest of the morning counting the threads in the cushions.

I wonder if it’s strange that I’m looking forward to having kids already... Being Twilight’s faithful assistant had led to a broad range of responsibilities, even moreso since Dawn had come into everypony’s life. While she could be as aggravating as she was cute, he’d spent plenty of hours helping Twilight teach and train, mother and mentor the young filly who lay groaning dramatically in comical lamentation of her gluttony, and seeing the results in even two short years made him sure it would be an experience well worth the trials. “Hey, Dawn?”

“Unnngh, no talk now... ate too much... pannycakes...” the filly groaned even as she licked her lips in search of the last lingering traces of sweetness. Spike himself knew a thing or two about over-eating, and while the filly lay distracted in her despair, he quietly made his way over to the couch. With a knowing grin, he gave the foal a few sharp raps to the back, and was immediately rewarded as a tumultuous belch resounded throughout the library. A wide-eyed filly rolled over to face Spike with a sheepish look, covering her mouth with both hooves before whispering, “‘Scuse me. My mouth just asploded.”

“Feel better?” Spike chuckled, patting the foal gently on the head. She nodded vigorously, taking a moment to thank Celestia her mommy hadn’t been there to witness her breach in manners. “I’m gonna try and write Sweetie Belle a special song just for her, but that means I need to go downstairs. Would you like to come and help?”

“I getta play piano?”

“Sure, I’ll teach you a few things,” Spike replied, leading the way as Dawn left the cushion threads to count themselves. Scrounging around Twilight’s laboratory, Spike found a notebook filled with pages upon pages of musical notation: the remnants of hours spent working side by side with Sweetie Belle trying to craft the perfect melody. A note rang out as Dawn started in early, glancing at Spike to make sure she hadn’t done something wrong before trying another. Generally, she wasn’t allowed near the instrument for fear of her temper and unpredictable foal magic turning the piano into a heap of rubble or landing it on somepony’s head, but Spike found little cause for concern as the golden maned filly tried her hoof at being a musician.

Turning his attention back to the notebook, Spike fell deep into thought. The eraser markers were many, some pages so heavily edited that they ceased to even be readable, but towards the start he found what he was looking for. It was the beginnings of the first song he and Sweetie Belle had ever tried to write together. As simple as they were nostalgic, the notes seemed to play straight from the page and into his mind, bringing with them sweet memories and a healthy dash of longing. While the two had finally nailed down an intro that they were both satisfied with, the direction afterwards had quickly been lost among jovial teasing and frustrating hours spent turning out nothing of use, though his attention was soon drawn away from such memories and back to his frustrated apprentice.

“Spike, help! Not makin’ the right notes,” Dawn said, blowing a teal strand of mane from her face while waving an accusing hoof at the uncooperative instrument. The odds of actually finishing a song that was a month or so in the making struck Spike as far-fetched, even more so should Dawn follow through with her silent threats of random teleportation for such an ill-behaved piano. However, it wasn’t with apathy or defeat that Spike closed the notebook, but a cheerful desire to fulfill his promise, and given that the beginnings of their song followed a theme of simplicity, he couldn’t imagine a lesson on the basics could well do him harm.

“All right, Dawn, I’m coming,” Spike replied in a calming tone, setting the notebook aside as he swung his legs over the bench and motioned for Dawn to sit in his lap. He grunted as the filly clambered into his lap with little concern for the feeling in his legs. Ignoring her lack of grace, Spike reached around the filly, grabbing a fore hoof with each claw and gently going through the scales. Dawn quickly forgot the names of each key and the names for their sound, but she still enjoyed the lesson immensely, and demanded a favorite before she let Spike return to his work.

“Play ladybugs! Ladybug song!” Dawn quipped, hitting one of the keys that she thought was the starting note. She scowled when it didn’t make the sound she wanted, and pounded a few others before Spike caught her hoof and guided it over to the proper key.

“You’re a fast learner, Dawn. Come on, we’ll play it together. Ready?” It’s rare that a child’s attempts to remain quiet ever really work, and Dawn was soon singing happily with the tune of Equestria’s best foal sitter’s favorite dance, unaware that her laughter had beckoned her parents from their rest. Twilight had awoken shortly after Spike began playing, but hadn’t the will to chastise the dragon for practicing so early given the heavy burden on his heart the evening prior, so she instead lay content in her stallion’s embrace, greeting Cerulean and the softly breaking morn with tender whispers. Lured downstairs by the smell of food and the sound of a filly’s laugh, Twilight and Cerulean watched from the steps, quietly taking in the scene as the treasure that it was.

“It seems you were mistaken in doubting your abilities as a teacher,” Cerulean whispered, nudging his mare playfully as she hung her head in defeat. Unable to keep from smiling at the compliment, she gratefully melted into the subsequent embrace as she became a touch misty eyed at the moving scene.

“It wasn’t just me,” Twilight murmured, nuzzling his neck and returning praise for praise. Spike finished one last round and ended with a flourish, leaving Dawn to dance without music as he swiveled around and noticed that, unbeknown to the prancing filly, they were being watched.

“Sunshine, sunshine, ladybugs awake! Clap my hooves an’...” Dawn sang out, leaping as high as she could and landing ready to complete the ritual with a shake... only to notice that the mommy had awoken. “Run away, Spike! Mommy gonna rawr like a mannycore!”

“Oh, come now, Dawn,” Cerulean chided, poking his head under the bench where Dawn lay awaiting maternal fury. “We both know that when mommy growls, it’s more like a dragon than a manticore.”

“Hey! I resent that,” Spike interjected, laughing as Twilight yanked Cerulean back with her magic, held him upside down, and failed horribly at maintaining a decent glare. She soon gave up and set the grinning stallion down, cantering over to Dawn and assuring the unsure filly that she wasn’t in trouble for waking early. Dawn would have accepted her mother’s benevolence were it not immediately countermanded by her mother’s tickling hooves. Shaking the timber with piercing squeals of glee, Dawn attempted a daring escape by hiding behind Cerulean, though this resulted only in further tickle torture, and peace of sorts returned only after father and daughter disappeared up the steps amidst much clamor and joyous noise.

“You seem to be feeling a lot better this morning,” Twilight began, turning to Spike as he once more grabbed his notebook. “I really don’t thank you enough for all the help you do around here...”

“You said that yesterday,” Spike chuckled, lifting his gaze to that of his lifelong friend. “Twilight, Dawn is dear to me, too. Sure, she can be a real handful sometimes, but so can any friend. Besides,” he continued with a grin, “she’s pretty sharp, and she’s been a huge help this morning.”

“That’s great to hear, Spike. So... you know what you’re going to do, then?” Twilight continued, sitting down before her student.

“Yeah! Or at least, I have a plan. I dunno if I’ll actually make it...” Spike took one look at Twilight and knew he could either tell her everything or wait until she had begged it out of him, and really, he didn’t feel any particular need to say no to the mare eager to help him succeed. Spike showed her the notebook, explained the significance and his hopes for the day, and the challenge that it posed.

“It’s funny you should mention all this, Spike,” Twilight said excitedly, leaning forward ever so slightly. “It just so happens I have a book that will be a huge help! It’s called “Music Theory,” and I have all four volumes! They-”

“Boring,” Spike said dismissively, snickering as Twilight’s ears flopped down. “I found the first volume this morning and tried reading it. Even if I did understand what it was talking about, it’d take me weeks to get through all of that! Besides, it doesn’t have to be anything super fancy, I think...”

“Well, if you want it to be extra special, you should probably get some help from somepony who knows music!” Twilight suggested. “That way, you don’t have to spend all day reading, and you still get the song finished.”

“Do you know anypony that could help?” Spike instantly replied, unable to contain his excitement.

“As a matter of fact, I do!” Twilight declared, every bit as excited to help as Spike was to receive assistance. “Lyra happens to live here in Ponyville. She’s quite skilled with the lyre, and she and Bon Bon are two of the nicest ponies you could ever meet. Although...”

“What’s that look for?” Spike asked as Twilight paused halfway up the steps.

“Nothing. Don’t even worry about it.” Spike didn’t. The fact that he might very well have a shot at bringing one of Sweetie Belle’s dreams to life was enough for Spike to go on. Returning upstairs, he stuffed the notebook and a few pencils into a pack while Twilight gave him the address and some instructions on how to get there, though the last bit was unnecessary as many trips as he’d made to the Quills and Sofas shop across town. Not knowing how long his visit would take, but wanting to plan for the worst, Spike whipped out a quick letter, sealed it in an envelope, and asked Twilight to give it to Sweetie Belle if she came by before he got back. Despite her pleas, Twilight eventually caved to Spike’s adamant refusal of permission for her to read, swearing an oath that she wouldn’t snoop despite dying to know what Spike written and agreeing to play the mailmare as Spike prepared to set out.

“Everypony?” Dawn ceased her game with Cerulean as Spike stood in the doorway, framed by the first light of the morn filtering in around him. “I just wanted to say thanks. If everything works out today, it isn’t going to just be because of me. If it weren’t for friends like you, I wouldn’t have a chance.”

“Nonono,” Dawn immediately corrected, “thank you for lotsa pannycakes an’ sprinkles!”

“Wait, you gave her what?” Twilight asked.

“Nothingbye!” Making a hasty exit, Spike slammed the door shut and set out at an eager jog, filled with anticipation and high hopes. He found the residence easy enough, and not wanting to make his first impression being that of a panting mouth breather, he took a few moments outside the door to recover after the sprint through the brisk morning air. Having sufficiently recovered, he raised his claw and prepared to knock when an excited shout rent the morning air.

“Omigosh! I saw them again!” Spike’s claw remained raised and unmoving as the clip-clop of racing hooves and giddy squealing approached without warning, stopping just short of the door before trailing out of earshot. This process repeated several more times before Spike shook off his shock and gave the door a few sharp knocks. He braced himself for the unknown as the pounding hoofbeats blazed a path to the door hastily whipped open, and Spike found himself peering up into the face of a mint green unicorn whose citrine eyes blazed with all the furious insanity of one Pinkamena Diane Pie.

“Uh...”

“They had hands!” Having shared her fervor, the mare romped back inside made a circuit of the dining room table, completing laps with dizzying speed all while raving about Celestia only knows what. Spike remained firmly stationed outside, his arms hanging limply at his sides much like his jaw as he simply stared in utter bewilderment. “I mean, how awesome would it be to have hands? I’d get thumbs! Oh, I just know there’s got to be a way... It’s been so long since the last time I got to see them!”

Them? Thumbs? What the hay did this mare eat last night? Given that Twilight wasn’t one given to dabbling in illicit substances, Spike was unable to conjure even a single chemical that could drive a mare to such madness, save perhaps poison joke. However, that particular herb seemed to target specific aspects of a pony unless skillfully and painstakingly distilled, and to Spike’s knowledge, Silver hadn’t released an instant-insanity formula to the public. So, unless the mare who had just put her horn through the wall in her haste, then shaken it off like it was nothing, was typically as active as a frigid sloth, numb from a potent anesthetic, poison joke couldn’t be held responsible. His attention shifted as a very sleepy, slightly red-faced Bon Bon trudged to the door, shooed Spike back a few steps, and closed it behind her.

“Sorry you had to see... that,” Bon Bon said with a sigh, cringing as a crash sounded within. “I’ve seen you around, but I don’t know that we’ve ever really been introduced. I’m Bon Bon.”

“Uh... Spike,” he replied hesitantly, awkwardly scratching at his spines. “So... I’m not meaning to interrupt anything, and I know it’s kinda early, but was that... Lyra?”

“Yeah,” Bon Bon conceded, shaking her head slowly. “She’s having an, um... ‘episode’ right now. It’s not really a good time.”

“She plays music when she’s, uh...”

“Lucid?” Bon Bon offered with a weak smile, nodding. “Yes, she’s quite skilled with her lyre. Her music is beautiful. Were you hoping to hear her play?”

“Actually, I’m writing a song for a filly I like, and I was hoping she could give me a few pointers.”

“Awww, that’s so sweet,” Bon Bon swooned, grinning as she looked over the pages of the notebook held aloft. “I won’t be of much help, sadly. I never tire of hearing her songs, but I know very little about music itself...” The mare couldn’t help but take a liking to the dragon who stood resolute despite the news, and she turned back to the door with an apologetic grin. “I think there may be something I can do to help, actually. You’re welcome to come in, but... just promise me you won’t go spreading what you see around town, alright?”

“I promise, Bon Bon. I’ll do whatever it takes to get this right for Sweetie Belle.” Taking a deep breath, Bon Bon entered back inside with Spike in tow and was immediately assailed by a jubilant nutcase eager to share all the wonders of her magnificent dream.

“Bon Bon! I had another dream about them!”

“That’s-”

“They had these strange carriages that moved without anypony pulling them at all, and- and they had these magical boxes, right? Get this! They have to stick the little boxes up to their ears whenever they want to talk to each other! It was like- oh, and they had the cutest little fingers! It was... I just... yeeee~!” Down the hall she bolted, and the creaking of springs signaled the bed’s makeshift use as a trampoline.

“I’m really sorry about this,” Bon Bon murmured, glancing back to see how Spike was faring. To her surprise, he was standing calm and mostly collected, and regarding him with faint amusement, she said, “You don’t seem terribly shocked.”

“Bon Bon, you know that purple mare that made it rain poison joke a few years back?”

“Ugh, that was horrible,” Bon Bon shuddered, unable to keep a shiver from racing down her spine. “I ended up coming to covered in strawberry jelly next to some strange stallion with the most disconcerting leer I’ve ever seen. He was just... looking at me, like... like... nevermind, why do you ask?”

“I live with her.” The crash of a miscalculated leap punctated the comprehension dawning within the mare’s mind as Lyra skipped over and planted her hooves with a resounding whump.

“Isn’t it just the greatest day ever?!?” Lyra looked at Bon Bon, who looked at Spike, who just grinned back.

“This is nothing.”

“Nothing? Nothing?!?” Lyra cried, thrusting her face close. “This is nowhere even close to being as nothing as nothing! This is everything, understand?”

“Uh, so, about that help?” Spike said nervously, poking his head around Lyra’s intense stare to look at Bon Bon.

“Right. Just... sit tight.” Seemingly completely unaware of her surroundings, Lyra continued to stare straight at Spike, neither blinking nor appearing to breathe as she bore into him with feverish intensity while Bon Bon discretely cantered out of sight.

“So...” Spike began, chuckling nervously, “what is everything... exactly?”

“Ev... er... y... thing!” Lyra repeated slowly, edging just a little closer before yanking away and looking like she was going to seriously mess somepony up. “It started like a million years ago...” Spike pretty much lost her after that, some story about a giant explosion and sentient monkeys and funny boxes that talk to each other... it really didn’t make any sense at all to him, but appearing to listen worked wonders for the mare. Having expelled most of her eccentricity, Lyra closed her eyes and leaned her head back, humming to herself with a grin of oafish delight stamped on her muzzle. In her mind, she’d just reached her happily ever after, which somehow involved ponies evolving their own set of opposable thumbs.

“Sorry about the wait,” Bon Bon said in authentic apology, approaching with a piece of paper held loosely in her muzzle. “We’re really good friends with the ponies there. Well, I’m friends with them,” Bon Bon corrected, laughing a little. “To Lyra, they’re more like rivals, but they’re two of the most skilled musicians I know, besides my sweet little lump of crazy.” Lyra’s transformation back to a lucid mare of bubbly energy was completed by a tender kiss on her cheek. The mare blinked a few times, rubbing her eyes and yawning before taking a moment to look around, slightly confused as to how and when she’d gotten out of bed.

“How did I get here? Oh, wait, better question! Why is there a dragon on the carpet?”

“Thanks, Bon Bon. Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul,” Spike said with a grin, offering a quick wave of his claw as he left.

“Hey, wait!” Lyra called out, pouting a little as the door slammed shut. “I don’t get it. Was it something I said?”

“Don’t even worry about it, Lyra,” Bon Bon giggled, nuzzling her longtime fillyfriend as she sauntered towards the kitchen. “Come on, I’ll fix you breakfast.” While the two mares started their day, Spike was racing towards the station as fast as he could go, intent on catching the earliest possible train to Canterlot. Dusk would surely fall sooner than he hoped, and he pushed his legs for all they were worth, arriving winded but with five minutes to spare. There was, however, a slight snag.

“That’ll be ten bits,” the pony at the ticket booth said in a bored tone. Spike found the pony’s apathy slightly unjustified, given that he’d likely only been in the booth an hour tops, but unnecessary moodiness aside, the dragon’s quick search through his pack revealed he’d completely overlooked the possibility of travel. Spike’s heart sank as he frantically searched for a way he could come up with the money in four minutes and twenty seven seconds.

Oh man, I’ll never make it back to the library in time! And the next train doesn’t leave for another few hours... Spike wasn’t above a bit of groveling if it was for a good cause, but the intense look of abject apathy cemented on the stallion’s grizzled features clearly communicated that Spike would be more likely to glean sympathy from a bear woken early from hibernation by nice needle to the bum.

“If you don’t have the bits, move out of line so the other customers can board,” the ticket master ordered, pointing a hoof as if Spike were somehow directionally challenged. Hanging his head in defeat, Spike began to walk away, wondering if his best intentions would only ever be exactly that.

“Ye must be restin’ with a heart o’ stone, sendin’ the lad away like that.” Spike froze, not daring to hope but hoping against hope with all his might that the voice really was that of the resident rogue come to his rescue.

“Gale?”

“Aye, the very same,” the stallion chuckled, beckoning that dragon close. “Ye be gettin’ bold, ridin’ all by yourself. Did ye get Twilight’s permission, lad?”

“No, but this is urgent!” Spike replied, holding out the address Bon Bon had given him. “If I don’t make this train, I probably won’t be able to finish my gift for Sweetie Belle in time!”

“Well, what’re ye gabbin’ me ear off for, then?” Gale exclaimed, turning back to a face that bore absolutely no change in expression. “Two tickets fer Canterlot, ye heartless cad. Oh, and keep the extra fer a nice drink at the tavern. If ye don’t leave smilin’, then it’s on yer own head.”

“Final boarding for the seven-thirty for Canterlot! All~ aboard!”

“That’s us, lad! We’d best be about it!” Racing alongside a pegasus with tattered wings, the unlikely duo made their way onto the cart, commandeering a quiet booth near the back for themselves. It all felt incredibly surreal to Spike given that every time he’d been on the train, he had been with Twilight, and yet, there he was, heading out on his own.

Well, sort of on my own... “Thank you so much, Gale. I was about to give up hope before you showed up back there,” Spike said, smiling across the table at the stallion who had saved his day.

“Ach, don’t mention it, lad,” Gale said in a cheery tone, waving his hoof dismissively. “Ye said yer on a quest to win the heart o’ yer lass; if that’s not worth a few bits, then what’s money good for, aye?”

“Aye!” Spike cheered back, growing confused as the pony who had just helped him now regarded him with a frown, though it was only to conceal his mirth.

“...ye best leave that t’ Pipsqueak, lad. Yer accent be a mite damaging t’ a pony’s ears.”

“He does do that a lot better, huh?” Spike admitted, laughing at himself as the stallion broke into a grin.

“Just a touch, lad. Now, if ye don’t mind, I’m going to try and get a bit o’ shut eye. I went t’ bed late, rose early, an’ I’ve got an alicorn princess t’ tame.”

“You’re going to what now?”

“Nothin’ major, lad. Just goin’ t’ have a bit o’ fun at the castle. Been awhile since I paid Miss Luna my respects, an’ she an’ I have some business to discuss.” He cracked open an eye gave the startled dragon a reassuring grin. “Don’t fret, lad. We’re both fightin’ fer somethin’ o’ great importance today, an’ fortune smiles on those o’ stout heart. We’ll do fine.” Even without full knowledge of the task set before him, Spike couldn’t help but be reassured by the dozing stallion’s confidence. He turned to the scenery as it rushed by, his thoughts drifting back to a certain sweet filly with a voice as clear as a bell, and there they stayed until the warmth of the sun lulled him to sleep.

It wasn’t until the train came to a stop at Canterlot Station that Spike awoke, nudged into wakefulness amidst the clamor of ponies disembarking. Slightly confused that the trip had been so quick, Spike yawned lazily and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, letting most everypony go first so as to not be caught underhoof. He stood to leave and paused, turning to find Gale heading in the opposite direction.

“Aren’t you coming?” Spike asked, tightening the straps of his pack as pony with a coat of midnight blue paused at the window, peering intently into the city.

“Aye, but this is where we split ways,” Gale replied, trotting over and nudging the dragon towards the door. “Don’t worry yer spines o’er a thing, Spike. Ye have a fire burnin’ in yer eyes, an’ I wager nopony will have what it takes to stop ye. Then again, ye ain’t invokin’ a princess’ wrath, either.”

“Huh?”

“What’re ye prattlin’ about now? Think o yer lass, not this sorry rogue’s ramblings,” Gale laughed, shoving the dragon towards the door. Seeing no reason not to comply, Spike stepped off and turned around, though the space where the stallion had sat just seconds before was now empty. Shaking his head in amazement, Spike pulled out the parchment he’d received and glossed over the address. It was in a residential area he was familiar with, and while not the ritziest part of Canterlot by any means, it was still classier than Ponyville in many ways. The dragon didn’t particularly care either way, and he stuffed the paper back into his pack and stepped out with a good claw forward, taking in the the sights as he did so.

I think this may actually be the first time I’ve wandered around Canterlot without Twilight. I mean, sure, I’ve run errands for her when she was staying at the castle, but nothing like this. It all seems so much bigger. It felt like kind of a pivotal point for Spike, a moment that defined how far he’d come as well as how much he’d grown, and he couldn’t help but enjoy the little bit of pride that filled his chest as he adopted a light jog, peering at all the different shops as he entered the shopping district. I can’t stay a baby dragon forever, and this... this could be my first step towards becoming the kind of stallion Sweetie Belle deserves! Er... grown up dragon? Whatever.

Finding the house in question was like presenting a pony with two pieces of paper, one totally white and one with a giant blotch of red ink splashed in the center, and asking them to spot the difference between the two. Spike felt his destination long before the house even came into view, and at first he wondered if there was some kind of parade going: he couldn’t imagine anything else causing the consistent tremors in the ground. In the absence of cheering throngs and marching ponies and all manner of fanfare, Spike continued onwards until he was standing poised outside of a house that had the most curious windows. They seemed to bend outwards in sync with the rhythm giving him a nice foot rub, and he could quite clearly hear the bass beats of club music barely contained by four walls and a roof.

“...this is the house I’m supposed to go to for help writing piano music?” Spike wondered aloud, staring in disbelief. He looked at the house, back at the address, and then back to the house again. “I really hope Bon Bon knows what she was talking about...” Even with the end of his quest in sight, the dragon couldn’t help but wonder how Sweetie Belle was faring, and he paused outside the door, turning his eyes to the sky. I hope she’s doing alright...

For Rarity, falling into a groove and becoming heavily involved in her work seemed tantamount to drawing a lavishly ornate target over the Carousel Boutique as if to taunt the universe, saying “direct untimely distractions here.” It had, for once, been a fairly quiet afternoon, and her skilled hooves and magic had made considerable headway on the mound of orders waiting for fulfillment. Where once a great many matters had cluttered her mind and all but stripped the joy from the wonders of sewing, she once again relished the feel of the fabric passing under her hooves, her discerning eye choosing just the right fabrics to maximize ravishing by a factor of fabulous. Time had escaped her as she worked, and while she had been telling herself a small break would do her good for the last two hours, an intervention of another kind granted her unspoken request with a loud and quite unexpected whump.

“Oh, good heavens!” Falling out of her seat and creating an unsightly stitch that she’d have to undo later, the mare regarded the ceiling with minor agitation as muffled voices and hoof steps beat a path around her roof. “Who in their right mind would simply leap onto another’s roof?” she muttered, adjusting her spectacles and regarding the door with increasing annoyance. Whoever was on the other side had little grasp on the concept of patience, and her curiosity was laid to rest as the door burst open and she was bowled over by a pink blur. Holding a hoof to her head and waiting for the room to stop spinning, all questions were answered without a word as her friend’s face came into focus.

“Ah, that explains it. Hello, Pinkie,” Rarity said in an even tone. “Did you find my roof to be an acceptable jungle gym?”

“Not really. There weren’t any trees or anything!” the mare exclaimed, sounding wronged. “Even I know you can’t have a jungle without trees!”

“Oh, you don’t say? Fancy that,” Rarity murmured, glancing at her pinned hooves and then back up to her captor. “Would you mind letting me up?”

“Hmmm... What’s in it for me?” Pinkie pondered aloud, adopting a thoughtful expression.

“Ugh, I cannot believe...” No, wait, I can, but still. “Pinkie, would you please let me get back to work? You can take anything around here that looks fun to play with, all right?”

“You look fun to play with!” This gave Rarity pause, herself wondering just how hyped up Pinkie was and if her position atop her was simply a tackle or a purposeful hint.

I cannot tell if she means that how I think she means it, or if she really just doesn’t watch what she says. Honestly, it’s so hard to tell with her... “I’m... unavailable.”

“Are you sure?”

“Quite.”

“Awww, that’s boring!” Pinkie Pie groaned, flopping onto her back.

“Pinkie Pie, stop flirting with my sister!” Having recovered sufficiently from her brisk tour of the many thatched roofs of Ponyville, Sweetie Belle tottered in on unsteady legs, still slightly dizzy from a transit that felt more like a flight than a ride. Giggling and apparently undisturbed by the accusation, Pinkie Pie leapt to her hooves and excitedly began to explain the real reason for the visit.

“Okie dokie, if you insist! Rarity, do you have any gems you could spare?” Pinkie inquired, prancing in place as she imagined seeing Spike’s smile. “See, Sweetie Belle figured out that she’s been waaay too lovey dovey with Spike and it’s driving his little dragon brain bonkers, so then she decided that she needed to give him a super amazing present so he doesn’t break up with her! Wouldn’t that just be super duper sad? I just can’t even stand the thought!” Pinkie declared, racing over and squeezing Sweetie Belle uncomfortably close for a moment before springing back to life. “Since Ponyville isn’t due for a rainstorm for another few days, I suggested that we make him a cake, but she said that it needed to be extra special, and then I remembered that dragons love gems, and if anypony has gems, then it’s you, Rarity!”

“It is true that I have quite a few, but...”

“Please, Rarity?” Sweetie Belle begged, bouncing up and down as she did so. “Please please pleaaaase?”

Those gems are for the next order I was supposed to finish. It would take me hours to track down more... Seeing the hesitancy in her sister’s face, Sweetie Belle ceased her antics and let her ears droop, though it wasn’t the quivering lip that brought Rarity to her answer. What’s a few hours of work if it brings Sweetie Belle a smile? “All right, Sweetie Belle. You may take what you need from that chest just over there.” Not sparing a moment, Pinkie Pie immediately began rifling through the chest filled to the brim with gemstones of every hue, searching for the “ripest” ones for the cake. Sister hooves wrapped around sister shoulders as Rarity gave Sweetie Belle a fond embrace, listening with quiet contentment as the filly all but sang in her excitement. There was one point that caused her some alarm, though.

“Sweetie Belle, do you really think that Spike is going to break up with you?” The excitement draining from the filly’s features was answer enough for Rarity, who immediately chided Sweetie Belle in gentleness. “Sweetie Belle, Spike is not the type to simply leave the one whom he treasures. Rest assured, he will come back to you”

“Are you sure?”

“Beyond a shadow of a doubt, sweetheart,” Rarity admonished the doubting filly, draping a hoof around her and pulling her close. “I guarantee that when you see Spike again, he will welcome you with open arms. However,” she paused, pulling away with a wink, “it never hurts to show him a little generosity. I’m sure he will be more than thrilled with your gift.”

“Enough chit chat, time for baking!” Pinkie declared, trotting over. Sweetie Belle gave her sister a comforting squeeze as her features fell in proportion to the size of the bulging saddle bag strapped to Pinkie Pie’s back, filled to the brim with gems. “Thanks for the help, Rarity! Oh, and you still owe me, so be ready to pay your tab later, kay?” Not stopping to catch Rarity’s indignant rebuttal, Pinkie shot out the door with Sweetie Belle holding on tight, and they were back in Sugarcube Corner sooner rather than later.

“Just sit right there, Sweetie Belle! I’ll have you an anti-break up cake whipped up in no time!” Sitting was exactly what the woozy filly intended to do, slightly shaky in the legs and a little nauseous after riding piggyback while Pinkie Pie traversed half the town using her “shortcut,” which basically amounted to leaping from rooftop to rooftop at blinding speeds. Grateful for a chance to gain her bearings after experiencing flight without wings, the filly took a seat on a stool and rest her head in her hooves, as dizzy as she was puzzled.

I really want to believe what you said, Rarity, about Spike not breaking up with me, but how can I not worry? I’ve made a great big mess of everything trying too hard to be all lovey dovey with him... Sighs were not one of the main ingredient in smiles, and Pinkie wasn’t about to let the slumping filly taint her cooking with frownies, so she flicked a dallop of frosting onto Sweetie Belle’s nose with deft precision, grinning back as the filly blinked out of her daze and tentatively stuck a hoof into the sweet and gooey treat.

“Sweetie Belle, that’s silly! Frosting tastes waaay better when you use your mouth,” the mare chortled, shooting the filly a wink as she finished the batter and began sorting the gems. “Worrying about the future is only gonna get ya down, and if you’re down cause you’re worrying then when it comes time to actually talk to Spike, you won’t have the energy to do anything but go bleh~!” the mare asserted with absolute confidence, gelatinizing onto the floor like a giant heap of putty for a few seconds before springing back to normal with a brilliant grin.

“Yeah, you’re right, Pinkie,” Sweetie Belle admitted. The filly managed a half-hearted smile at the mare’s antics and casual disregard for the unfairly restrictive laws of physics that would constrict her to being a solid before continuing to voice her thoughts. “I guess I’m just a little anxious to make him happy, especially now that I know how upset he must be. I didn’t even realize how hard I was being on him until today, and I just want to patch things up.”

“Well, the cake hasn’t been baked, and I’m gonna make it look super duper extra fantabulous so Spike won’t have any choice but to give you a nice hoof rub and a huge helping of love! Unfortunately, that’s gonna take a little bit of extra time, so why don’t you go see your friends for a bit? Friends are great for keeping away the bleh~!” She was right, even as a liquid, and Sweetie Belle marched over to give her a hug, paused while she pulled herself upright, and then followed through, paying her thanks and swiping a little bit of frosting for the road as she stepped out of Sugarcube Corner, pausing to look skyward.

Sunset seems so far away... A white hoof raised in defense over an anxious heart as Sweetie Belle bowed her head, sifting through the memories of the week. From every moment of laughter shared to the awkward sinking feeling in her gut when she spoke in haste, revealing her affections, and even sitting with her hoof on the door while her good intentions coated the bathroom floor: it was all precious. All it took was a step back for Sweetie Belle to see what she’d overlooked in her haste, but as she raised her eyes once more to the azure sky, she promised herself that she wouldn’t forget again.

I’ll wait for you, Spike. Whether it’s tonight, or tomorrow, or even a year away, I’ll wait, and when we do meet... I’ll make it up to you, somehow. Just... please, let it be tonight.

Aside from being nearly deafened upon entry, Spike soon found exactly why Bon Bon had sent him where she had. Octavia and Vinyl Scratch struck him as an unlikely couple, but there was definitely a strong, if somewhat unconventional, bond between the two. After a short explanation of how and why, Octavia set about Lyra’s “challenge” with gusto. Within an hour, a competitive mare had drafted what she assured her unlikely client was sure to be worthy of a filly’s attention. She snatched up her bow, made sure her instrument was tuned, and left her audience of one feeling mixed emotions.

Impressive? Quite. An absolute joy to hear played by the skilled hooves of Canterlot’s finest? Without a doubt. Way beyond Spike’s skill level? In leaps and bounds. Finishing with a flourish and beaming triumphantly at having overcome Lyra’s test, Octavia’s haughty grin took a hit as she notice her audience staring sullenly at the sheet music of her own design with his brow furrowed in contemplation.

“Was it not to your liking?” Octavia asked, somewhat bemused. “Certainly, with a little more time I’m sure that it could-”

“No, no, it was great, really,” Spike assured her glancing up for a moment before dropping his gaze again. “It’s just... there’s no way I’m good enough to play this! And no offense, but it sounds like something you’d play to prepare for battle, which isn’t exactly the type of tone I’d like to set for the evening.”

“Hmmm, perhaps it is tinged with a bit of competition,” Octavia conceded, regarding Spike an apologetic glance. “My apologies for getting carried away. Let me try again.” She’d intentionally worked many complicated tricks and twists into the flow without making it absolute chaos, and it had in fact turned out much better than she’d expected, but her motives had little to do with reconciliation. In her defense, it had been quite some time since she’d tried her hoof at writing something simple. Suddenly, the blank pages that remained seemed every bit as baffling to her as they had to Spike, and after a rather unproductive thirty minutes, Octavia startled her guest with an elated and dignified yelp.

“Figure something out?” Spike said hopefully, his tail swishing back and forth with anticipation.

“Well, no, not exactly,” Octavia replied, calming herself. “While it pains me to see how difficult elementary music has become, I cannot justify sacrificing your afternoon for the sake of my rivalry; I have more class than that. No, don’t despair,” Octavia said, smiling at the unlikely musician as his features fell. “While I may be unable to help, I happen to have a good friend here in Canterlot who I’m sure can aid you in fulfilling your dream.”

Soothed by the mare’s confidence, Spike bid her farewell and set out in a hurry, noting that if he was going to make it back by sunset, he had perhaps an hour at most to spare before boarding the train home. It was a stroke of good fortune that his destination wasn’t terribly far, but having sprinted the whole way, he was a touch breathless by the time of his arrival. Not wanting to waste a single moment, he knocked frantically until the door was answered by a most unusual looking unicorn stallion.

For one thing, it was rare to see a stallion in bright pink - not red, not even a dark rouge, but Pinkie Pie status pink. His mane was longer than most stallions permitted theirs to grow, though it was well kept and reminiscent of a certain bass-crazed mare as far as color was concerned, and the stallion regarded the gasping dragon on his doorstep with vague amusement while Spike desperately sought to cut corners and save time.

“Hey... I just... music... help!” The stallion blinked once and stared as Spike toppled over backwards and lay panting on his back, an unfortunate victim of hyperventilation and the simulation of a merry-go-round that sometimes came with it. It felt strangely satisfying to lie down, and Spike begged the sun for mercy and a slow descent as he took a few moments to recover. A piece of paper suddenly floated into view, wrapped in a rosen aura and capturing the dragon’s attention with its flowing, graceful letters.

“I do so enjoy word puzzles, and based on your rather cryptic message, I humbly offer my deduction: you’re here to see my wife. Come in when you have caught your second wind. I shall let her know she has a most unexpected guest.” Intrigued, Spike caught the paper as the aura faded and sat up, doing his best to regulate his breathing as the stallion cantered back inside.

He got all that from, like, four words? Whoa, this guy must be super smart! His writing is really neat, too. A little girly, perhaps... Not even Rarity writes this nice. Adequately recovered, Spike entered cautiously, not wanting to be rude or assuming despite having already been invited inside, though all such worries dissipated within moments as a beautiful unicorn mare cantered around the corner and fixed him with a curious smile.

“My, you’ve grown...” Perplexion was hard pressed to win out over the soothing tone of the mare’s voice, and Spike couldn’t help but feel at ease as the mare made her way over. Wavy locks of verdant green mane laced with streaks of pale gold tumbled down around her shoulders, accenting a light peach coat that was more cream than orange. Her calming eyes were a similar shade of green, though a slightly darker hue, and she stopped just short of the dragon who was trying to figure out why this mare, whom he was fairly positive he’d never seen, seemed to know who he was. “It’s been quite a few years since I’ve seen you dashing around the markets.”

“Uh... have we met?” Spike offered, reaching deep into his memory.

“No, I suppose not,” the mare replied, shaking her head lightly. “I used to see you all over town, though, tottering after some little filly with your claws piled high with books. I would not be so calm should just any dragon come waltzing through my door.”

“That makes sense, I guess,” he conceded with a grin. “I’m Spike, and I’d really like your help.” A gentle hoof accepted the outstretched claw as the mare nodded once, smiling a little more.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Spike. My name is Clarity, and I will do whatever I can to assist you.” An unplaceable excitement began to course through the dragon’s being as he followed the beckoning mare into a room chock full of instruments of all kinds. Grandiose harps to the diminutive piccolo, it was as if the Royal Canterlot Orchestra had decided to hit the bars in a hurry and tossed all of their gear into Clarity’s house. “My apologies for the mess,” Clarity piped up, glancing at Spike who was taking in the sights. “I’ve been a bit distracted as of late, and have fallen quite behind on my work.”

“What exactly do you do, Miss Clarity?”

“‘Miss?’ I’ll have you know I’m quite married,” she corrected with a giggle, clearing a space for them and motioning for Spike to sit across from her. “While I have never found the talent to play any instruments myself, I have been blessed with a discerning ear for all things musical. Every piano, violin, guitar and clarinet that you see here is waiting for either repairs or fine tuning, but alas... my heart has been heavy as of late, making it tiring to focus on work...” A wistful look clouded her radiance for but a moment before she turned her attention back to her guest with a rueful smile. “Forgive me for rambling. Now, what could I possibly do to help the infamous Dragon of Canterlot?”

“Music,” he declared, whipping out his notebook and opening it to the beginning. Clarity listened intently as he explained the events of the day, from Lyra to Octavia, and finally the crux of the matter: giving an irreplaceable gift to his special somepony.

“I had no idea that dragons could be such romantics!” Clarity tittered, begging the dragon’s patience with a wink as she looked over the notes. “It seems Octavia may need a reminder of the simpler elements of melody before the coming week is through. She’s skilled, but I hardly think this will do for instilling any kind of movement other than rousing the guards for war.”

“I was thinking the exact same thing,” Spike chuckled, flipping back towards the start. “This little bit here is fine, I think. I worked on it together with Sweetie Belle, and we were both pretty happy with it.”

“Did... did you say Sweetie Belle?” Clarity asked, looking shocked.

“Uh... yes?” Spike replied uneasily. “Why?”

“I’m due to give her singing lessons in just a few months time.”

“Wha? But... really?” Spike sputtered, peering back at the mare with fascination. Who would have thought I’d meet her teacher before she would? At least I’ll be able to tell her she has nothing to worry about; this mare is really nice! “Well, that makes this even better!” Spike chortled, rifling through his pack and whipping out a pencil. “See, we originally wanted it to be something for use to perform together. I’d play on the piano, and Sweetie Belle would sing, but we haven’t had much luck as of late.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place, Spike. Wait just a moment...” Standing and trotting over to a smaller sized piano, her horn began to shimmer with a faint rainbow aura as she slid a hoof across the keys, quickly picking out three that were in need of adjustment. Muttering as she glanced hither and yon, her eyes darting around from place to place, she spied a small box and lifted it out. Her movements were quick and skillful, and between her tuning hammer, a few muters, and a spell that Spike couldn’t see the effects of, it was just minutes later that she asked him to take his seat in front of the ebony and ivory.

“Now, this may sound strange, but I cannot help you with the writing of this song,” Clarity said, causing the dragon some level of confusion as he sat.

“Huh? Why not?” Spike immediately questioned, that being the very reason he’d come in the first place.

“Tell me, what do you know of music theory?”

“It’s boring.” Breaching her appearance as a mare of dignity, Clarity threw her head back and quaked with laughter at the dragon’s unabashed reply, and it took several minutes for her to calm down enough to speak.

“It is... is most fortunate that you feel that way, because in this case, it is entirely unnecessary,” Clarity said amidst the fading remnants of mirth. “Spike, if this is truly to be a gift for one you care for, then it should carry with it what is in your heart, and that is something that I cannot know. I see two hearts working together as one in the early pages of this notebook, but after a time they diverged, each trying to perform what can only be done together. I would have you think on this until I return.” Her words weren’t condescending or dire, but there was a power behind them, and Spike found himself able to do little else but incline his heart to such wisdom.

It’s scary how right she is. I hadn’t ever really thought about it before, but when we first started this song, I was just jotting down a tune she started humming. It was even before we both opened up and admitted to liking each other... The days that followed, the focus shifted away from sharing time with one another amidst their common love for music and more about trying to make it “good.” This shift had mysteriously dried the well of creativity and left them confused as to why their work was shriveled and themselves parched with thirst, so to speak. He smiled as he remembered the good times, closed his eyes upon remembering the bad, and opened them as he looked towards the future, waiting to be written.

“Would that half of my clients were as attentive as you.” Spike blinked out of his reverie as Clarity cantered in with the pink stallion from before, smiling once more. “It seems that you have a rare gift in that you are honest with yourself. That is something that takes some ponies many years to learn and a lifetime to perfect.” It was clear she spoke from experience, and she drew close to the silent stallion for support as she closed her eyes, looking peaceful. “This is my husband, Heartscribe. Alone, I fear I would be of little use to you, but together, we may see your dream come true. Play... when you are ready.”

Unsure claws settled over waiting keys as Spike sat poised to begin. There was no music sheet to read from, only a short introduction he knew by heart and a highly respected mare that was dropping everything to help. However, as he closed his eyes, the memories of his relationship with Sweetie Belle rose to the forefront of his mind, connecting like stepping stones across the river of time. Each stone became a note in the dragon’s mind, and he had only to follow the path.

Meanwhile, Clarity had stepped away from Spike and nodded to Heartscribe, each preparing to do their part. A shimmering light danced around the mare’s horn, causing the air above her to distort and sway as ethereal music staves stabilized above her horn. Heartscribe took a seat beside her with Spike’s notebook at hoof, opened to a number of blank pages and his quill held at ready. They hadn’t long to wait before the first few notes filled the room, each one appearing for a few moments in the shining lines above Clarity’s horn before fading to make room for the ones that followed after, but it wasn’t for nothing that she had called her husband in: not a single note was missed, not a single staff left untranscribed to the pages quickly filling with notes as his skill with a pen put every movement to paper.

“I should think that any filly would be touched by such a moving melody,” Clarity said quietly, cantering over as the last note faded and the dragon sat back in a daze, wondering what had just happened. “Taking a step back and remembering what is the source of one’s inspiration is a common obstacle every artists faces, but it seems that yours is fairly clear; Sweetie Belle must be very special to you.”

Spike agreed readily, though he couldn’t help but worry. The music had flowed from heart to keys with fluidity and power, but looking back, he couldn’t remember anything past the basic framework of the masterpiece he’d just wrought. And yet, as his notebook was slid into his lap by the telekinetic aura of a quiet stallion, it appeared that, working together, the couple really had made his dream come true. Everything was there, from the very first notes hummed from a happy heart to the last movement of his own design, and Spike couldn’t have been more grateful to the two as he paid his thanks, noticed the time, and hastily gathered his things together with every intent to make straight for the train station.

I can just make it if I... “Huh? Oh, no way...” Spike muttered to himself, pausing in front of one of the pictures hanging from the wall. Standing beside Clarity and Heartscribe were three ponies he had come to know well over the last few eventful years, from the cheeky blue colt to the nearby filly with a coat of brilliant red and a dress of the purest white, and a tiny foal who couldn’t have been more than Dawn’s age. Even then, he had a brilliantly verdant mane that couldn’t shroud his beaming features and youthful exuberance. “You’ve had a lot of students, huh?” Spike laughed, turning towards Clarity who simply nodded. I guess that explains why Whisper is good at singing. And actually, I’ve heard Cerulean’s writing isn’t half bad, though it’s normally pretty depressing from what Twilight’s told me... I wonder what Crimson does?

“Oh gosh, I’ve gotta go or I’ll never make it!” Spike exclaimed, spying a clock nearby that read half passed time to skedaddle. “Sorry I can’t pay you or anything, Clarity, but don’t worry! I’ll send you my thanks in a letter, I promise!” Vaguely catching the mare’s closing words that had something to do with not worrying about payment, Spike raced through the streets with nary a care for the uptight ponies who seemed to equate his presence nearing theirs with the same level of indignation and distress as the ponies of Ponyville when Nightmare Moon crashed a perfectly good Summer Sun Celebration. Aided once more by Ponyville’s sole night watch and more recent terror of Canterlot, Spike made it on board with a few seconds to spare, and, after thanking Gale once more for his assistance, settled in with his eyes toward the late afternoon sky.

I’m coming, Sweetie Belle. I know this can’t be easy for you... Hay, I’ve been missing you all day, but just... hold on a little while longer. Lulled by the rhythmic chug of the engine two carts ahead, Spike let himself rest as his mind wandered back to his home and the teacher who was instrumental in making his plan come together, but worries were far from his mind; his bond with Twilight was deep, and he gently drifted off to sleep, safe in the assurance that when the time came, she’d be there to help. It was just a little more than an hour before he walked through the door of the library, only to be immediately tackled by his self-appointed piano student, and found that he was right. He had only to ask once, and with the Element of Magic not just ready but genuinely grateful to be part of his plan, the pair set out towards his final destination for the day: the place where everything had started.

Slender stalks bent under the light winds brushing the untamed countryside, causing ripples through the golden ocean of dried grass. It was a place that wouldn’t stand out to the casual passerby, but held a special meaning to one dragon and one pony, and Spike and Twilight came to a halt at the base of a small hill. Approaching quietly, the dragon peeked over the summit and felt his heart leap at the sight of lavender curls and pink locks complimenting a coat as white as snow. There, on a small plateau, sat Sweetie Belle in the very place where she and Spike had first really connected, a single meeting that had changed their lives forever.

The sky had turned a gorgeous mix of gold and softer hues of violet, turning the rustling stalks into a sea of warm magenta. Sparse clouds dispersed the light, turning the celestial canvas into a breathtaking work of art, and Spike whispered some final instructions to Twilight before making his descent. A cavalcade of emotion threatened to rob him of his senses as the filly turned, startled by his approach, but Spike refused to let his mind deny him that for which his heart yearned, and he clenched his claws into fists in silent defiance of the rush that threatened to leave him mute. Taking a seat beside the filly, he turned towards the filly with a wearied grin, nothing that she looked just as run down as he.

“Rough day?” he asked weakly, his lopsided smile receiving one in return as Sweetie Belle let out a quiet giggle, nodding slowly. She gratefully accepted Spike’s embrace as he noticed her shivering, but whether from the chill wind or the mystery of a dragon’s affection working wonders in her heart, she couldn’t say. Right then, she didn’t really care either way, and snuggled closer to the comforting sensation of scales brushing against her coat.

“It’s... really good to see you, Spike,” the filly murmured, closing her eyes.

“Yeah, you too, Sweetie Belle,” he replied with his usual silver tongue. “I actually... really missed you today.”

“Actually, huh?” she teased, beaming as she peered into the dragon’s gentle, emerald eyes.

“Hey, it’s not like you’re always the easiest fillyfriend to work with, ya know,” Spike shot back, though he found his choice of words to be ill placed as he watched Sweetie Belle’s countenance fall. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to...” he started, holding his peace as the filly in his arms shook her head, replying not with anger, but acceptance.

“I know.” She’d been expecting a whole lot worse when Spike arrived, and words would fail her if she tried to describe right then just how much his kindness had touched her, but it was time for her to take responsibility for her actions like any lady should. “Spike, I... I know that I’ve been really pushy this last week,” she began, pulling away and taking a claw in both hooves. “I got so excited about getting a coltfriend that I... went a little crazy. I mean, Rarity always talks about falling in love like it’s the only thing better than gems, and that’s saying something!” Sweetie Belle exclaimed, throwing her hooves wide and taking comfort in Spike’s muffled snickers.

“She always goes on and on about how... it’s the one thing no amount of fame or beauty could ever replace, and having a chance at all that, I... got carried away,” she explained, taking the dragon’s claw into her hoof once more. “I know I can’t go back and fix everything, but I promise I’m going to try and think more about you, just like you’ve always done for me. I’m sorry for being so terrible, Spike. Can you forgive me?”

“Sweetie Belle?” Everything that Spike had dreaded bringing to light had just been laid bare before him, and it wasn’t with a lecture that he was forced to respond, but a simple motion to show that Sweetie Belle owed him no recompense for every hoop he’d leapt through the past week. “I already have.” A lavender muzzle creased into an affectionate smile as another claw was placed over the ivory hooves that held his first, and while he didn’t say anything more, Sweetie Belle knew that he had meant what he said, and her slate had been wiped clean without a second thought. Surely, this was deserving of a celebration, and there was only one thing that could possibly serve as a centerpiece for such an occasion.

“I have something for you,” Sweetie Belle said softly, sniffing back tears of joy as she lifted her present over and caught it in her hooves, gently lifting the lid and blushing lightly as Spike’s eyes doubled in size, reflecting the shimmering lights of the fading light. To simply call the confectionary masterpiece a “cake” would be like simply calling Twilight “smart,” or Pinkie Pie “happy,” or even stating that Rarity is “obsessed with shinies.” To use Pinkie Pies words, it was nothing short of fantabulously splenderific.

Whether by intention or irony, the cake actually resembled Sweetie Belle herself, dusted with a layer of scilliant white frosting studded with gemstones. A ring of amethyst aligned in perfect sequence along the top housed a smaller ring of rubies, and if that weren’t enough, a painstakingly crafted heart wrought of pink sapphires formed the centerpiece. Sweetie Belle couldn’t help but laugh as all the dragon’s efforts to maintain a mature composure dripped out. His tongue unrolled amidst profuse salivation, catching a taste of the grass as he sat riveted in anticipation, and the filly had to wonder if it made her strange that she didn’t find her coltfriend’s actions the least bit undesirable.

“Beefor ah eath thith...” Spike began, pausing midway through his sentence as Sweetie Belle cocked her head in a manner most adorable, not having the faintest idea what he had said. Holding up a claw as he tore his eyes away from taste bud heaven long enough to gather his tongue and stow it back within his dripping maw, he wiped his mouth with the back of his claw, watered the grass with the flick of his wrist, and looked sheepish as he silently apologized for his lack of manners. “Sorry about that...”

“Don’t be. It was cute,” Sweetie Belle chirped, growing confused as Spike exerted stunning willpower and closed the lid of the box.

“As I was going to say, before I eat that, there’s something I’d like to give you, too.” Daylight was fading fast. The warmer hues of orange and gold had deepened into riveting magenta and stunning shades of crimson, and Sweetie Belle blinked in astonishment as a sharp whistle preceded a brilliant flash of light. A burning heart made no attempt to stifle the smile that came as Spike sent his thanks to Twilight on the breeze for her help, and pulling out his notebook from the sack that had appeared alongside his piano and bench, he beckoned Sweetie Belle over and revealed a gift she couldn’t ever had dreamed she’d receive.

“T-this song... it’s...” Sweetie Belle stammered, having only to look at the first few notes to confirm her suspicions.

“That’s right,” Spike said softly. “It’s our song, Sweetie Belle. It took me all day, but this... this is our song, our story. The only thing it needs... is lyrics.” Overwhelmed, Sweetie Belle held the notebook close with trembling hooves until a gentle claw lifted her gaze to one full of gentleness. “Would you... sing for me, Sweetie Belle?” Already on the verge of tears, she could only nod, taking a seat beside the dragon as he stretched his claws, double checked his sheet music, and scooted closer to filly beside him. “Sweetie Belle?”

“Y-yeah?” she replied, unable to shake the feeling that she was dreaming. If she was, she didn’t want to wake.

“Let’s make a melody... together.” She held his gaze until he turned away, and closed her eyes as anticipation filled her to bursting. Skillful keystrokes began to play with flawless precision, but there, at that moment, two hearts aligned and together became something more powerful than one pony ever could be. How could she not sing? What Spike had captured wasn’t just any song, but their song, their melody... their story.

Bathed by the rays of the setting sun

I felt the last of my strength depart...

Exhausted by my never ending run,

I lay tired with a broken heart...

I lifted my gaze to the evening light

and whispered a single solemn prayer:

“I just want somepony to ease the fright,

a voice of comfort for a lonely mare...”

Imagine my surprise

when I opened my eyes

as I heard a voice call me out by name...

...and you said:

“Please, don’t go away.

it’s not my right to make you stay,

but I’ll try my best to make you see...

even in your deepest grief

I’ll be the one who never leaves

because you~ are lovely~ to me~”

Cradled in the claws of a caring heart,

I felt the warmth of a soothing flame.

Every word, every touch: it became a part

of a joy rekindled when you spoke my name.

“Could I hear you laugh? Can I make you smile?”

Soon these questions began to fade...

Selfish desire: it raged all the while -

how much of my debt have you paid?

I’ve tarried too long,

I know I’m in the wrong,

and I hope you believe me when I say...

“Please, don’t go away.

it’s not my right to make you stay,

but I’ll try my best to make you see...

even in your deepest grief

I’ll be the one who never leaves

because you~ are lovely~ to me~”

Overcome, Sweetie Belle leaned heavily on Spike as he played the last few notes. Her muzzle was streaked with tears from the raw emotion she’d poured out in lyric born of genuine affection, and she buried her face in Spike chest as he turned from the ivory keys and wrapped her gently in his embrace, rocking her softly. And then, without any warning, Spike surpassed what one filly could dream even in her wildest of fantasies by doing for her exactly what she’d just done for him, singing softly the final verse that she hadn’t the strength to sing.

I~ won’t go away

there is no reason I should stray

from the one with whom I longed to be...

shelter from the world’s grief

forever yours; I’ll never leave

because you~ are lovely~ to me~”

The week had started with a dare: a product of boredom with no significance. That simple game had led to a chain of catastrophes that had shaken the couple’s perceptions, their sense of self, and their very friendship, but if every trial had been leading up to that pinnacle moment, then Sweetie Belle with gladly re-live them for the rest of her life if it meant that she could share with Spike what she had right then. Lit by the final rays of the setting sun, Sweetie Belle yielded to the gentle tug of the claws cradling her tear-streaked muzzle to be given that which every young filly dreams of: the lovely gift of her very first kiss.

The Pirate, the Child, the Treasure

Chapter 22: The Pirate, the Child, the Treasure

“Ach, I can taste the pomp in the air. How fare ye, Canterlot?” Grinning widely at the murmur of disapproval and indignation that instantly rose from a few nearby ponies, Silent Gale stepped off of the train while making no efforts to hide the excitement brimming within. If all went well, and he had every intention of making sure that it did, he would walk away that evening with all the paperwork finished and the legality of his adoption pending only on the colt’s agreement. While there was an inherent danger in making any kind of assumption, Gale was fairly confident Pipsqueak would find the idea of housing with his commodore to be more than agreeable, and with a light heart, the stallion continued on his way with an undeniably cheery gait.

Despite the air of superiority many of the so-called “nobles” put forth, Gale really did find Canterlot to be enjoyable. With so many ponies about, one of lower standing like himself was practically invisible, and being ignored made it incredibly simple to prank the ponies who wouldn’t so much as pay him a passing glance. Misplacing a hat, doctoring a pony’s tea without the butler even noticing, and generally taking foal-like glee in adding a little excitement to the lives of the Canterlot elite, he was halfway to the castle when he froze midstep, not budging a muscle.

Something’s amiss. Slowly lowering his raised hoof, he remained still for a time before slowly continuing on his way, his eyes darting to and fro as trained senses confirmed that he was being watched. His ear twitched as a faint noise registered as out of place, and he whirled in time to see the tip of a hoof disappear behind a nearby building. I heard wings, but that sure wasn’t one of the weather team. Those shoes... Resuming his trek, Gale closed his eyes and filtered through the hustle and bustle of town, searching for even the slightest variation of the norm. Cart wheels, hooves on the cobblestone, the clinking of fine china: none of this mattered.

C’mon, make another move, I dare ye. Clank. His eyes snapped open as the lead he’d been waiting for revealed itself in the telltale chime of metal striking stone that pinpointed the stalker’s locale. Gale caught just a brief glimpse before the pony fled, but it was enough to know exactly what he was up against. Heh... So, yer highness, ye sent yer guards out t’ play, did ye? Ye sure know how to entertain far better than the snobs ye oversee! Knowing what to listen for made pinpointing the location of the other guards foal’s play, and it quickly became clear that the Lunar Princess wasn’t sparing any expense for her entertainment.

“Ten, maybe twenty guards? That’s all ye can spare?” the stallion mused aloud, staring pointedly at a window where a guard quickly came to the conclusion that his mark was clairvoyant. “Wee bit insultin’, that is... Luna must be sore ‘bout somethin’! All right, come on, you lot!” Gale shouted with a hearty laugh, scoring the ground with a hoof and taking fiendish delight in the startled cries of the other townsfolk. “I’m already halfway t’ the castle gates, an’ ye haven’t even made a move! I’d hate t’ think that a princess is guarded by cowards!” Admittedly, he’d probably get an earful from his fillyfriend for provoking the lunar guard for no reason other than that it sounded like fun to stage an escape, but he was soon left with no choice as the doors on a nearby portico burst open and out dove a bat-winged pegasus, one of the defining features of the night guard.

“Tch, manners, lad; I’m sure the princess doesn’t pay ye fer layin’ down on the job!” Gale chortled, neatly sidestepping and shaking his head as the overly eager guard woefully underestimated his quarry and landed with a face full of cobblestone. Not even turning to look, Gale listened to the rapid beat of approaching hooves and ducked, turning around with a bemused look to find his second attacker had landed atop the first due to a body tackle that didn’t connect. “Away with ye, foals. That ain’t proper behavior fer those guardin’ royalty, so I’d ask ye take yer cuddle time somewhere else.”

“Why, you...” the guard grit out, rolling off his partner and letting out a piercing whistle, bringing the rest out of hiding and quickly surrounding the stallion who nonchalantly examined a hoof as the ring formed. “By the orders of Princess Luna, we are to escort you to the castle for questioning. If you do not come willingly, you will be arrested and taken by force!”

“‘Taken by force,’ eh?” Gale murmured, shaking his head in disapproval. “What ye do in yer own time is between you and yer mate, but mine would be right disappointed if she found out I had a wild mornin’ in the streets of Canterlot with no less than twenty fine gentlecolts.” Startled whispers spread round the ring of guards like wildfire until silence by the fearsome growl of their captain, unwilling to let such disrespect slide, but as he opened his mouth to deliver the meddlesome stallion’s sentence, formality was banished by another jibe. “Aye, the pain of rejection is far from easy t’ bear, but fortunately, ye seem pretty close with just about everypony; ye’ll get along just fine.”

“Take him down!” the captain shrieked, pointing a trembling hoof at the stallion, livid with visceral rage. Dropping to a crouch, Gale vaulted off the back of an eager guard and gracefully landed with ease outside the constricting ring.

“Sorry, mates, I don’t mean ye any disrespect, but group hugs aren’t my style.”

“Don’t just stand there, you fools! After him!” Trusting in his talents with all things elusive, Gale waited playfully until the guards were all but on top of him before dodging to the left, feinting to the right, and playing trampoline with an unfortunate stallion’s head to spring free of the encroaching horde once again. Urged by their captain's cries and spurned by the stallion trotting backwards through the streets with a cheeky grin plastered on his smug face, a tumultuous cry arose as they rushed forward with one accord, dashing through the streets.

Relishing the rush of toying with disaster and grateful for a chance to do something other than patrol the quiet streets of Ponyville, Gale was having a grand time tempting fate as he led the guards willy nilly, evading capture with ease. However, no game of chase tarries long before one party tires. Gale knew that if he played too long he would eventually be captured and treated a good deal more roughly than if he had simply followed their orders, and he decided with some reluctance to cut things short: returning to Cloudburn covered in bruises would probably result in far worse torment than a night in the castle dungeons.

Vaulting off of a table, the nimble stallion launched onto a nearby balcony before spreading his wings and gliding to the adjacent building, leaving his pursuers with looks of abject confusion; their quarry was reported to have flightless wings, and by the time they shook the shock and started pursuit, a length of time numbered in mere seconds, the stallion was lost from visual range. Grateful that his wings had recovered enough with time that gliding was even possible, the stallion found a safe spot and allowed himself a short breather. Plying his trade and sticking to the shadows, he soon resumed his trek while being wary of the ever-present danger of being spotted by night guards, but it to his surprise, he didn’t spot any. His trip to the castle seemed to go perfectly fine up until he actually arrived at the castle gates where he quickly realized why he hadn’t seen any more guards along the way.

“Princess, you’re makin’ me feel like some stuck up celebrity with all the attention I’m gettin’,” Gale murmured, his searching eyes darting from pony to pony arranged before the shining citadel. He could hear the distant barking voice of the captain doling out commands to twice the force he’d encountered earlier, and after a few moments the guards scattered, some patrolling the skies while others made rounds of the castle grounds. The captain ain’t captain fer nothin’, it seems. He’s done a right good job o’ cuttin’ off every entrance, both by air and the land. This is going to take some careful thinkin’, oh aye...

After a few moments in contemplation, Gale hung his head and let slip a rueful chuckle as his “plan” came to him. I must be gettin’ soft in me age, lettin’ ‘em have it so easy... Ah, well, Cloudburn would have a fit if I came back lookin’ like a rag doll. Prancing out into plain sight, Gale adopted a laid-back canter as he made his way up the road and straight towards the steel-eyed vanguard standing to attention with weapons ready. Stopping as the front rank brandished their spears, Gale adopted a look of injured innocence and looked up at the captain.

“Ye wily dog. How’d ye know me plan was to waltz through the castle gates? I’m ashamed o’ meself, but I suppose that’s not bein’ very fair,” he lamented, pausing and letting a slow grin spread. “After all, what chance could a flightless pegasus have against the mighty captain o’ the night guard?” The captain said nothing, nor gave any orders to the stallion who couldn’t seem to stop smiling. “I’ve got a meet n’ greet with royalty, but wouldn’t ye know it, I can’t seem t’ find me way. I don’t suppose one of you fine lads could show me t’ the Princess?” There was just a few seconds of silence as the captain scowled at the one who’d single-hoofedly stripped him of any sense of victory with vexing nonchalance before he gave the order with a growl and the wave of his hoof.

“...arrest him.” The whole process of getting leg irons on an obedient stallion took way longer than it rightfully should have due to the guards jumping every time Gale so much as wrinkled his nose, but eventually after many nose wiggles and wing twitches, the elusive stallion was properly restrained. Marched between four guards and followed by two more in front and behind, Gale continued along in his usual manner even as he realized the direction he was being taken meant Luna was serious indeed. Despite the castle’s outward splendor, a dungeon just wouldn’t be a proper dungeon if it wasn’t dank, dark, smelly, and slimy, and all it took was a single doorway for everything to shift.

“Oof! Captain, ye can’t just waft something our way without some kind o’ warnin!” the stallion wailed with juvenile glee, averting his face and pretending to cough as the day guards standing to attention swung open the thick, reinforced doors. “Didn’t yer mother ever teach ye t’ bathe? Her Highness must be patient indeed t’ tolerate such a lack ‘o manners. Now, meself?” Gale continued, swishing his mane. “Cleaner than a fresh spring shower. Ye could stand t’ learn a thing or two-”

“If it weren’t for the fact that we were ordered to detain you without harm...” the captain growled, thrusting his face close and glaring for all he was worth. Gale eyed him, noticed the fire with which he was playing, and gave a respectful nod.

“Did ye come to catch a whiff o’ me mane?” A snicker from somewhere down the line spurred the crimson rising in the captain’s cheeks to greater conquest, and the stallion plied his calm audacity with pride as he bowed his head. “Ye seem teachable, an’ that’s a fine trait fer a captain t’ maintain. Here ye are, lad. Go on, take a sniff!”

“Unharmed, deliver him unharmed. Unbuckingharmed...” Repeating this mantra to himself as he straightened up and gave the order to march, Gale maintained a cool demeanor even as the rising urge to fall to the ground and fill the narrow chambers with uproarious laughter sound more and more gratifying, but no, there was a time and a place, and descending the steps as they were was neither. There was yet a little more fun to be had, and in the close confines of the tight corridor, one of the guard’s spears brushed the stallion’s flanks. It was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up.

“Ouch!” Gale yelp, yanking hard on the lead and causing a small avalanche of ponies to tumble down the last few stairs. Half buried, Gale peered up at the unamused captain, shot him a wink and turned to the stallion on his left. “Watch what you’re doin’ with that spear, lad. I don’t know what kinds o’ things you’re taught in the night guard, but here’s a tip: not everypony likes t’ take it up the ar-”

“Silence!” the captain bellowed, well past his limit as he hauled the stallion upright. “Shut your gob, prisoner or I’ll-”

“Shut me what now?” Gale replied, cocking his head to the side. “Ye’ve already got me in chains, lad. Would ye really be so heartless as to-”

“Gag him.”

Ah, great. Now ah went an’ made the poor sod a wee bit peevish. Knowing that his freedom of speech was indeed about to be forcibly revoke, Gale let slip a soft sigh that his fun was to be cut short so soon, but not before having one last laugh at the captain’s expense. Besides, between himself and Luna, Gale was fairly sure he could smooth out any ruffled feathers after the day was done. As the a guard approached with an unintimidating strip of white fabric, Gale looked at the article, back to the captain, and grinned wide. “...you’re a kinky one, captain.”

It was fortunate that the humiliated officer was wearing armored hoofwear, because the force with which he bucked the wall would surely have done more damage to himself had he not. Laughter erupted amongst the disheveled ranks, though they quickly quieted as a deathly hush swept over the captain who would likely be a little late reporting for his shift later that evening on account of all the booze he was planning to consume. Gale’s hopes for a picturesque setting were graciously fulfilled as they came to the bowels of the castle, with unlit torches in rusty sconces, a single dark chamber, and ground that squished with every step. After the one pony prison was illuminated by the ignition of parched wood, he was set in an unfinished wooden throne fit with metal clasps, and once he was properly bound, the gag was removed.

“Seems mighty strange t’ reward a brigand with his own throne, doesn’t it? Luna’s a mystery, aye?” To his surprise, the captain’s scowl slowly grew into a grin creepy enough to make even Gale slightly uncomfortable.

“You there!” the captain barked, turning away, “inform the Princess that the subject has been successfully detained! You, check on the leeches!”

“Leeches? Ye don’t say?” Gale mused, snuggling up to the chair and pretending it were cushioned.

“You three, round up the spiders. Oh, and try not to get bitten? The same goes for you lot, and for the sake of all that is right, be careful with the snakes! I’ve no idea if they are poisonous or not.” Assumptions of the captain being a blowhard fell down hard as the first stallion returned with a pail, looking quite uncomfortable and glad he was wearing armor. Prying a large, black creature from his breastplate and dropping it into the bucket with a plop, Gale quickly came to the conclusion that he may actually have landed himself in a bit deeper trouble than he had imagined. This notion was amplified as a crate of both spiders and snakes were set down near the door, and with a look of smug satisfaction, the captain gave one last order. Gale closed his eyes long before the sack placed over his head blocked out the faint light of the torches, determined to meet the coming storm in the same manner as he always had: with pride and dignity. There was nothing else for him to do but wait.

Meanwhile, high above the underground chamber in a room flooded with sunlight, a listless Luna lay atop her bed, waiting for word from her guards. As wonderful as the idea of a good interrogation sounded and as much anticipation as she should have felt that Celestia had actually gone to the trouble of locating her precious leeches, her sister’s reproving words hung over her head. With a sigh, the princess laid her head atop her hooves and closed her eyes, acknowledging within herself the truth; she had no lawful grounds for the arrest of the pony eluding her guards.

I cannot say that I may take pride in this thing that I do, but what other choice to I have? I cannot bear the thought of entrusting my treasure into the hooves of just anypony... Cracking open her eyes, she glanced over at the file sitting at the edge of her bed. In truth, she hadn’t bothered to even read the name of the one requesting the adoption, only read far enough to know they were coming to Canterlot, and without a thought she’d handed the matter over to her captain. Then again, if she were simply being moody or flippant, Celestia would never have offered her assistance, and it gave her some measure of solace that her dear sister understood exactly why she couldn’t just let Pipsqueak go.

“Your Highness!” Startled from her contemplation, Luna regarded the excited guard with no small measure of annoyance. While it did serve to put a damper on his enthusiasm, his confidence remained intact as he collected himself and delivered an official report straight from the captain himself. “Ten minutes ago, the pony you requested for questioning was captured and is now being detained in the innermost cell of the royal dungeon.”

“The one who made a mockery of my guards?” Luna asked, her tone dangerously calm.

“The same, your Highness.”

Finally, after a dreary morning of sleepless day, I shall have a chance to teach this pony a lesson for his audacity! Not only would he purpose to steal away my favorite colt, but to taunt my sleep-deprived guard as well? The pain shall be doubled! Trembling as a flash of rage twisted Luna’s features into a fearsome scowl, the guard nervously awaited orders while hoping the sudden spell of vexation would pass quickly. Composing herself after a short time, Luna returned her attention to the guard and spoke with calm. “Tell me, who is responsible for his capture? I would reward them for a job well done.”

“Err... actually, that’s, well... everypony.”

“...I do not understand.”

“He just sort of... walked right up to the gates,” the guard replied, every bit as confused as he sounded and Luna looked.

“Art thou serious? I should warn you now is not the time for sarcasm. This pony has offended me greatly, and I’ll not stand for any more of his games.”

“It’s the truth, your Highness.”

“Hmph, such insolence,” Luna muttered, dropping her gaze as she turned away. “Thank you for your service. Tell my captain I shall be to see him shortly, and then we shall have our rest. It has been quite a long morning for all of us.” Bowing low, the pegasus excused himself and went about his business while Luna wrapped the file in a gentle blue aura, staring at the folder for a moment before setting it aside. It is not by a name that you shall be judged worthy, but by the strength of your resolve. Prepare thyself, whoever you are; you have yet to pass my trial.

Sweeping out of the room, Luna made straight for the holding cell, speaking kindly to her guards and dismissing most of them to rest. After having come back into the world with nought but bitterness and loneliness to guide her home, the notion that anypony would swear fealty to her at all made each and every one of her guards a friend, and her gaze darkened as the light faded and she heard the distant voice of the one who had humiliated her closest subjects. As expected, her captain stood to attention by the door, and with the wave of her hoof, Luna signalled he should remain at ease.

“So then, the pony in the file I gave you is behind these doors?”

“That is correct, your Highness. He-”

“Ach, away with ye!” a muted voice called out. “Ye can’t expect me t’ believe that load o’ sea bilge, lad! Ye don’t even have hooves!” There was a moment or two of stunned silence from the two as the voice continued chatting away before Luna cocked her head in abject confusion.

“Is he...”

“Talking to the leeches? Yes,” the captain confirmed, covering his face with a hoof. “He hasn’t stopped talking since he arrived.”

“An’ you! What’re ye hissin’ about?” the voice behind the doors continued, proving the captain’s point. “Don’t tell me you’re hungry? Away with ye. I’ve a fillyfriend t’ return to an’ a colt who needs a place t’ call home. What, ye don’t believe me?” Rather than storming in and putting the prisoner in his place, the captain held his tongue as Luna leaned closer to the door, listening quietly.

“Listen, up, the lot of ye. There’s a lad by the name o’ Pipsqueak that’s won a special place in me heart, but the sad part is... he has no home: no father t’ teach him t’ be a proper rogue, no mother t’ hold ‘im close when he’s scared, an’ hardly a friend t’ spar with. If ye don’t mind, I’d like t’ live long enough t’ give ‘im that. And, if ye do mind... then ye’d best be ready t’ leave this life, because I’m not givin’ up mine.” In the wake of the silence that followed, one captain was left to reassess his desires for retribution while one princess stared at the doors in disbelief.

No, it cannot possibly be... Bursting through the doors and nearly smashing open the crate of spiders, Luna peered for a split second at the captive’s dark blue coat, one that resembled her own, before yanking off the sack and staring not at the face of a stranger, but a friend. “I cannot... but... Gale?” The stallion blinked a few times, glanced down at his bonds, and then back up at the princess with a warming smile.

“Yer Highness?”

“I don’t... but... why are you... here?”

“I was meanin’ t’ ask ye the same question. What did this sorry excuse fer a pegasus do t’ ruffle yer feathers so mightily?”

“Would that the answer were simple,” Luna said with a sigh, turning towards her captain. “Release him.” Despite his own opinion of the sharp-tongued stallion, the captain knew that Luna would not just dismiss an interrogation after so much preparation without good cause, and he diligently obeyed, being careful not to deal roughly with Gale.

“An’ that’s why ye have the lofty title o’ captain. Well done, lad.” Taken aback, the captain paused and stared at the enigma grinning back before removing the last of the leg irons and undoing the clasps.

“Thank you, captain. Rest now, and do not worry. I happen to know this stallion, and am quite confident he will behave in my presence.”

“As you wish, your Highness...”

“Make sure ye reward that one double,” Gale commented as the wearied stallion’s hoofbeats drifted off in the distance. “I gave all yer guards trouble today, but that one most of all.”

“Oh, I am certain it was all in good fun,” Luna replied confidently. “It’s not as though I’m impartial to a prank or two myself when the mood takes me, though I admit I am still not entirely comfortable that my sister has granted Discord sanctuary. I do not enjoy all of his ‘pranks.’ Come, Gale. Let us return to my chambers that we may speak in greater comfort.”

“After all the trouble ye went to gatherin’... leeches?” he shuddered, peering into the bucket. “Remind me never t’ get on your bad side, Princess.”

“You would have lived,” Luna teased in a casual tone, leading the way up the stairs, through the halls, and finally into her personal chambers. It was one of the few places where there weren’t guards regularly stationed, and a simple ward would easily let them talk in peace. “I must admit, I am grateful that I had no need to threaten you with leeches,” Luna commented, smiling faintly as she pulled over a chair for Gale, crawled atop her bed, and drew over the file. “It seems it would do me well to not blindly order somepony’s arrest. I do hope you weren’t harmed?”

“Sorry? Ye have no reason to apologize, yer Highness,” Gale chortled, vigorously shaking his head. “It’ll make a fine story t’ tell me captain in trainin’ with a few fanciful touches later this evenin’.” Gale quieted himself and shed his ever-present mirth in the face of a somber princess. “It seems I’m gettin’ ahead o’ meself. This tale isn’t finished, and I know ye didn’t invite me here fer tea. What ails ye, Princess?”

“It seems that... a day I hadn’t hoped to face draws nigh,” Luna said softly, wrapping the folder in a faint azure aura and setting it in the stallion’s hooves, where he found a file on himself, Cloudburn, and the legal forms for Pipsqueak’s adoption. “Gale, do not be mistaken; of all the ponies that could raise Pipsqueak as their own, you are, perhaps, the only one that I would feel comfortable with. Know too that I have no grounds for which to refuse you should you sign those forms. However, I would... make one request of you.” There was no hesitation in the stallion as he closed the folder and set it aside, fixing his attention on the pony seated before him.

“Ask me anythin’ ye want, yer majesty, but ask me as a friend, not a subject.” Gratitude brought solace and a smile to the alicorn as she nodded her understanding and responded in turn.

“As you wish, Gale. All I would ask of you is that you listen to what I have to say.” Ordinarily, the pegasus seated just a ponylength away from royalty would have replied to such a simple request with cheerful sarcasm, but there was a gravity in the mare’s words that couldn’t be denied.

“Ye have me ears, Luna. Whatever needs t’ be said, let it be said.”

“You wouldn’t imagine that I, the very one who raises the moon, would live her life in fear, would you?” Luna started, speaking in a soft tone that failed to conceal the hurt. “You were in Cloudspire, so you would have no recollection of the events of which I will speak, but they are of the utmost importance, so please... listen well.” It was not a pirate that now sat before her, but friend who wished to be a father.

“I have not been back for any great length of time,” Luna continued, standing and beginning to pace. “I spent much of my first year in hiding here at the castle. Even after one thousand years, my very first impression upon the Equestria I’m coming to know now was one of fear. Consumed by bitterness, I left the town you now call home shrouded in darkness, and its residents trembling in fright.”

“Steady, lass...” Gale soothed, casting aside ceremony as he drew near to the princess, not for the sake of royalty, but for the good of friend. Luna accepted the gentle hoof on her shoulder and paused, collecting herself before continuing.

“Thanks to the efforts of Twilight Sparkle and her friends, I was able to reconcile with my sister. And, testament to their worthiness of the Elements of Harmony, the very ones I had fought with accepted me as well, but they were just a few of the ponies I had wronged.” Luna graced the stallion before her with a weak smile as she sniffed back the moisture rising in her eyes. “I’m sure thou art wondering what this has to do with thine desires for a child, are you not?”

“If I must speak truthfully, yer Highness, I am a wee bit curious,” Gale replied with an encouraging, though subdued, laugh. “I cannot imagine what kind o responsibility ye carry on yer shoulders, and if ye simply need somepony to listen, then me ears are yours.”

“And for that, I thank you, Gale. Your kindness will not be forgotten. However, there is a point in all this,” Luna assured the stallion, straightening up and placing a hoof over his for just a moment before brushing it away. Being revered was a heavy burden, and just that simple touch had brought more comfort to the Lunar Princess than any silver tongue ever could. Not knowing how long she could maintain her composure, Luna recalled one of her most cherished, bittersweet memories and jumped the timeline a year.

“The next time I returned to Ponyville was during one of their festivals: Nightmare Night. It was a curious thing, wishing to be scared, but if there was ever a time when I could present myself to them and have a chance at acceptance, I was convinced it would be then. I was... quite terrified myself, going back...”

“Ach, Ponyville is one o’ the most acceptin’ places anypony could ask for,” Gale commented with a grin. “Got yerself wrapped up in some crazy adventure, did ye?”

“If only that were the case...” The somber reply bid the stallion curb his enthusiasm, and Luna slowly shook her head before continuing. “Many things change in one thousand years... what was once acceptable no longer was, and within a very short while, I had frightened my subjects all over again. And yet... that evening is, to this day, one of my most cherished memories. Do you know why, Gale?” Levity prompted a joke within his mind, but the stallion cast it aside and shook his head. “Coming from one thousand years of isolation only to be met by further rejection was too painful for me to bear. And it was then, when I was longing for acceptance, that a certain young colt said something to me I’ll... never forget.”

“Now what could a up an’ comin’ rogue like Pip say t’ melt the heart of a princess?” Gale pondered aloud, looking up into the face of the night and finding it to be gentle indeed.

“‘You’re my favorite princess ever.’”

I thought I’d be ready t’ take on anythin’ the princess threw at me an’ overcome any obstacle that would stand between me an’ givin’ that colt a home, but ah wasn’t expectin’ that... Gale closed his eyes as the full weight of Luna’s words came down hard, and behind the veil of darkness, the stallion felt his spirits sink further as the delicate plip of a tear drop splashed onto the stonework. Vibrations in the floor accompanied soft hoofbeats along with the shuffling of papers and the scribble of a feather quill. Without a word, the folder was set on the armrest of Gale’s chair, and having been overcome by the tides, Luna excused herself from the room to shed her tears alone. It was some time later when Gale cracked open his eyes only find himself alone in the room with a terrible choice to make.

“Princess, ye don’t fight fair,” Gale whispered, staring crestfallen at the the signature portion of the adoption forms that had been set nearby. With a heavy heart, Silent Gale gathered them together, sank into the chair, and glossed over the legal drivel of the first page before moving on to the second. There, he found that all his personal information, and Cloudburn’s as well, had been hastily filled in. She wouldn’t have filled all this in out o’ guilt. Pipsqueak is too precious fer her t’ just cave, so this... must be her way o’ sayin’ I pass. But if that’s true...

Gale sat poised over the papers. His head felt like lead as he signed his name, dropped the pen, pushed the papers away, and moved his hoof to cover the his eyes. With a few quick strokes, he’d just taken his deepest desire for himself, but there was no triumph in the stallion’s heart as tears of his own began to fall. There was no honor in stealing treasure from a princess, and where there was no honor, there was no victory. Even as his conscience cried out in desperate opposition to the ink still fresh on the page, his heart shouted back just as loud, trapping the stallion in the middle.

“Luna, what would ye have me do? I wouldn’t dream o’ takin’ what ain’t mine if... if I could...” A trickle became a stream as the walls crumbled in the quiet of the castle study. It had only been a matter of days since the doctors had confirmed that the terrible accident that robbed him of flight and left Cloudburn only able to stay airborne for minutes at a time had taken something much greater from both of them: the ability to bring a child into the world. It was a knife to the heart that couldn’t be removed, and Gale could feel the choice he had made twisting the hilt. Lifting his tear-streaked muzzle, the stallion pulled the papers close with one hoof and reached into his satchel with the other.

“Cloudburn, I’m... I’m sorry. I can’t take from another what we’ve... had taken from us.” With a few drops of a flammable substance and a few swipes of flint and tinder, the adoption papers burst into flames. Startled by the smoke, the doors of the chamber burst open as Luna barreled in, where she met Gale’s tear-streaked muzzle with horrified confusion.

“Gale? I... what have you done?”

“Yer Highness... I appreciate yer sacrifice, but I cannot accept it,” Gale choked out, unable and unwilling to lift his head.

“I do not understand. Why would you... simply give up after being chased through the streets of Canterlot, and even jailed by my orders? All you had to do is sign the documents, and-”

“And with my name, I’d have thrown away me honor an’ taken what’s not mine to take!” Gale cried, leaping upright and glaring back through glassy eyes. “If what ye said is true, everything ye told me about how much the lad means to ye, then why would ye tempt me with makin’ such a choice? I could never take somethin’ so precious fer meself, even if it’s everythin’ my heart longs for! What both our hearts long for...” Unable to restrain the tides and ashamed of acting as if Luna were in the wrong, Gale bowed his head and lowered his voice, barely managing to rise above a choked whisper.

“I couldn’t take a child from anypony, yer Highness. Not when... when mine have... been taken from me.” Seconds ticked by where the only sound in the room was the quiet weeping of a grown stallion who rarely shed tears. Slowly did Luna approach her friend’s quaking form, and just as he had done for her, so she too place a hoof on the stallion’s quaking shoulders.

“I am ashamed to say I never realized it before, after seeing so many signs in your dreams. I thought that my fears may be correct, but I did not want to do you this dishonor of asking. Gale, you and your fillyfriend are... unable to conceive?” A shudder, a pause, and finally a nod confirmed Luna’s suspicions, and she bowed her head in solemn lament for his heartbreak.

“Truly, it was never my intention to bring such painful thoughts to mind. However, dear friend, I must admit I am wounded you would think me so cruel as to use my own past to dissuade you from giving Pipsqueak a home. When I told you those things, it wasn’t because I hoped you would simply walk away, much less burn the documents.” Taking a few deep breaths, Silent Gale wrestled his composure back to a point he could speak clearly, and Luna’s gentle hoof under his chin raised his eyes towards her own. “I told you all those things so you would know... that when I entrust Pipsqueak into your care, you would understand that you have been tasked with guarding the most beloved treasure of a princess.”

“Ye... would give me such a gift?” Gale said softly, unable to restrain the hope welling within his chest. Like stepping under the cool of a waterfall on a searing summer’s day, relief swept in to wash away the stallion’s tears as Luna chanced a smile and a little humor, hoping that the it would be well received by the friend she drew into a gentle embrace.

“Assuming you do not burn the documents a second time, then... Pipsqueak shall be yours.” Amongst the tears a chuckle arose, and just as the stallion had done for her a time or two, Luna tried her hoof at encouraging sarcasm. “It seems that I may yet have things to teach you, Silent Gale. Arson is not fitting treatment for royalty, much less the one who would become guardian of my treasure.”

“Aye,” Gale laughed, wiping his eyes, “an’ neither is weepin’ like a babe an’ blowin’ snot all over a princess, but ye don’t seem too sore about that.”

“Well, as long as you do not make a habit of this...” Luna replied with a royal giggle, releasing the stallion and floating over a box of tissues. “Dry your eyes, Silent Gale, and cry no more. You mustn’t return to Cloudburn looking as you do now.”

“Funny, I was thinkin’ about just that,” Gale laughed, pausing to blow his nose and take a deep breath. “I was just imaginin’ how she’ll respond when I tell her about all this. I’ll be sleepin’ on the couch fer weeks, I’m sure.”

“The couch? Pray tell, why would she punish you thus?”

“Ach, the lass can be a touch fickle,” Gale replied, waving a dismissive hoof. “Somethin’ about being alone in another mare’s chambers and cuddlin’.”

“We were not cuddling. I do not simply cuddle; there are procedures one must observe before engaging in such a thing,” Luna declared officiously holding out a hoof as if making a royal decree. There was a pause as she lowered her hoof, and Gale had himself a little moment of actual fright as Luna adopted a coy smile and shot him a wink. “Wouldst thou be interested in knowing such procedures?”

“Thank ye kindly, princess, but I really would like to live long enough t’ see tomorrow’s sunrise,” Gale chuckled nervously. Luna’s sarcasm was still unrefined and quite frequently couldn’t be distinguished from her usual speech, but Gale didn’t bother asking her to elaborate.

“Thou art prudish, Gale. If thou shalt not accompany me to bed, then get thee gone. I require rest.”

“As ye wish, yer Highness,” the stallion replied with a sweeping bow, trotting towards the door and pausing as a voice called out behind him.

“Gale?” He paused, regarding the princess with waiting eyes. “I would... make one more request of you.”

“Ask away, Luna. I’ve no right to withhold anythin’ that’s in me power t’ give.”

“If it is possible, could you... bring him to visit every now and again?” Turning around to fully face the one who had granted his deepest desire, Gale trotted back inside and made the mare a promise.

“On me honor, from now until the day he’s no longer in my care, ye shall see the lad at least once a month.” Decided not on paper nor scrawled in ink, the pact was struck between one stallion and one princess that a royal treasure be appointed a guardian, a father, and a family. The afternoon passed in a blur as the overwhelming fatigue of emotional exhaustion lulled Gale to sleep on the train ride home. Waking with a groan, the stallion made straight for the little cottage on the edge of town, nearing his one little piece of heaven that was destined only to grow.

“Cloudburn? I’m h- whoa!” Were Gale not so worn to the bone as he dragged himself through the door, he would have gratefully accepted the leaping tackle of an eager fillyfriend with a good deal more grace than simply toppling over in the doorway. However, his trip to Canterlot had been draining in every way, and despite the insequential pain of hitting his head on the ground, Gale chose to enjoy laying prone and heaved a sigh as his muscles began to relax.

“So, how’d it go?” Cloudburn asked, beaming brightly from her perch atop his chest. “Something obviously happened, ‘cause you’re about as spunky as a damp rag.”

“I’ve just made it back an’ that’s the first thing ye have t’ say t’ me?” Gale laughed wearily, reaching up as if to pull the mare close before playfully shoving her away. “Away with ye, lass. Ye’ll not hear a peep from me until I’m restin’ in me own bed and sippin’ the finest grog ye can fetch fer a tired rogue.”

“Couch and a glass of cold water?”

“Close enough!” Gale affirmed, pulling himself inside and heaving a joyful moan as he stretched out on the couch. He couldn’t help the affection radiating from his features as the mare neared, and after a deep draft of refreshing spring water and a few smaller sips to fully sate his thirst, the stallion lay back and closed his eyes, smiling at the sudden warmth around his side and chest. “I missed ye somethin’ fierce, Cloudburn,” Gale murmured, loosely draping his hoof around the mare pleasantly cuddled up next to him. She didn’t doubt his words, and it made the mare fear the worst. Gale could hold his own physically, so for him to be as drained as he appeared, then it had to be emotional exhaustion.

“I’m sorry it was so awful...”

“Not all o’ it was weepy, lass,” Gale said cheerfully, though the underlying tone in his voice made it clear that something had indeed happened. “Ye don’t need t’ ask, Cloudburn. I’ll tell ye everythin’. It started just before noon, when I stepped off the train in the royal city...” His tale needed no embellishment to capture the mare’s attention, and she listened intently as he moved her to laugh, cringe, and shed a few tears of her own, but as he drew the story to a close, it was joy that flowed down her cheeks.

“So then, we really...” the mare started, drawing closer to the one who had proven yet again the depth of his devotion, both to her and to his honor.

“Aye, lass... we get to be parents, the two o’ us.”

“Have you told him yet?”

“Nay,” Gale murmured, closing his eyes and laying back with a treasure just as great held within his hooves. “I’ll talk to him about it soon, but fer now, I’d... like to rest. Would ye... stay with me?” His answer came not with words, but a tender kiss, and two broken pegasi held each other tight as each pondered the treasure that had just been bestowed upon them. It was something of no monetary value, nor a trinket to be toted around for status, but a treasure cherished by Princess Luna herself, and relinquished unto them. They had Pipsqueak. They had a son.

Evening Fell Softly

Chapter 23: Evening Fell Softly

It had been quite the emotion-packed afternoon for two fillies trotting side by side through the streets of Ponyville. While the pink unicorn was fairly certain she could convince Silver to let them in early, spending most of her waking hours that particular afternoon straining to understand what was plain as day had left Ruby drained. There was still an hour or so left of daylight before the sun would completely set, which was plenty of time for them to find another chore or two to help around the town. This would have been cause for excitement if it weren’t for the fact that all Ruby wanted to do was rest. The tired unicorn couldn’t help the smile that spread across her muzzle as Silver Spoon took notice of her condition, and with a gentle word from the earth pony trotting by the unicorn’s side, the remainder of the afternoon was allocated to cuddle time with pillows, possibly a living one. The pair veered off the main road and were soon standing at the door to Ruby’s house, where she immediately muted her mirth and bid Silver Spoon do the same.

“Ok, now we have to quiet,” Ruby cautioned in a whisper, placing her hoof on the handle with all the force of a butterfly.

“Why is that, exactly?” Silver Spoon replied, nonplussed.

“Because I’m super tired and don’t want to deal with my mom going all crazy on me like I know she’s going to the moment she realizes we’re, you know...”

“Kissing?”

“Together.”

“Obviously.”

“Whatever, Spoony. Just hush, ok?”

“As you wish, Pinchy.” A rosen hoof hesitated on the handle as the unicorn paused, shook her head, and gently eased open the door. Peering inside, Ruby heaved a sigh of relief as she found the livingroom abandoned.

Maybe I’ll make it through the day unscathed after all. “Looks like the coast is clear. Come on!” Creeping inside and waving Silver Spoon to go on ahead, Ruby gently shut the door and started after her earth pony counterpart, though she soon found herself less focused on stealth and more interested in studying the finer points of the filly’s cutie mark. Such a cute little heart... I knew she had some sweetness in her, and-

“Enjoying the view?”

“Spoony!” Ruby snapped back, immediately covering her mouth as both ponies froze, and listened. Painfully slow seconds ticked by, but after nothing happened, Silver Spoon let slip a muffled giggle and continued on her way. A little sweetness and a whole lot of trouble... Grumbling quietly to herself, Ruby eventually made it into her bedroom just after Silver Spoon, and the moment the door was closed, an exasperated filly coltfriend turned to her fillyfriend, noted her coy smile, and adopted an appropriately reproving frown. “I liked you better when you were easy to embarrass.”

“Oh, I’m sure you could embarrass me if you tried,” Silver Spoon teased, flicking her tail a little as she hopped up onto Ruby’s bed, tossed her mane, and fluttered her eyelashes. “Aren’t you going to join me?”

“No.” Marching a few paces forward so she was at least out of the doorway, Ruby flopped onto the floor with a thud, stubbornly denying Silver Spoon a victory.

“You’re cute when you pout.” Turning her head just enough to stare, Ruby blinked once and looked away, finding it increasingly difficult to assume any kind of control either of the relationship or her emotions.

“You’re cute when you’re quiet.”

“You’re cute when you’re witty.”

“You’re cute when you’re covered in mud.”

“You’re cute when you’re sassy.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re cute when you’re up to your ears in moldy lasagna!” Ruby shot back, rolling to face her assailant who simply grinned, dealing the proverbial deathblow to a unicorn’s failing resistance.

“You’re cute... all the time.”

“...ugh, that is so sappy, it hurts,” Ruby snickered, sticking out her tongue in mock disgust. “Fine, you win this round. Now move over.” A gray filly scooched over to make room for one more, and the soft, giving mattress felt divine as Ruby lay upon her side and closed her eyes, letting out a long, gratified sigh. Cracking open her eyes, she looked at the one respectfully maintaining her distance despite having teased so confidently and smiled: perhaps Ruby did have a little authority in the relationship.

“You’re cute when you’re nervous.”

“Are you really starting that again?” Silver Spoon fired back, and weakly at that. Ruby found her fillyfriend’s hesitancy nothing short of endearing, and it reminded her again of the a rich pony’s softer side: the side that had won her heart.

“Just stating the facts, Spoony,” Ruby murmured, stretching out her weary hooves. “Oh, don’t look so down in the dumps! Come here already, will you?” Giggling as a faint redness rose in the bespectacled filly’s cheeks, Ruby accepted Silver Spoon as she slowly edged over, folding her hooves to her chest and nestling her head in under Pinchy’s chin. The steady rhythm of the unicorn’s heart accelerated as she wrapped her gleaming silver treasure loosely in her pink hooves, accepting the shortness of breath as a small price to pay for the comforting warmth of another pony.

For a time, neither of them spoke. An arduous week, no matter how wonderful the end, was still bound to take a toll, and after having both shed tears and experienced the elation of awe and acceptance, both of the fillies were ready for a moment’s reprieve. There was little contemplation in either heart, as each was too busy sending morse code from one to the other, playing tag with each racing beat, and as the sun continued its path towards the horizon, the two found that bliss was neither pricey nor difficult to find.

“You’re... really warm,” Ruby whispered, giggling as Silver Spoon simply nodded. “I feel like I’ve been drinking some of my Uncle Shiny’s Phoenix Juice with the way my cheeks are burning up. But... it’s not like a fever or anything! It feels nice. Kinda tickles, actually.”

“Mmhmm...”

“Sorry, I’ll be quiet...”

“No, by all means, continue,” Silver Spoon laughed quietly. “I was worried it was just me.”

“No way!” Ruby assured her, pausing as a slight shift of Silver Spoon’s muzzle caused her mane to tickle the unicorn’s neck. “I... um... shoot, I was going to say... what was it?”

“...you’re cute when-”

“That’s not gonna help!” Ruby shot back, pulling away and failing miserably and holding a decent glare. Flustering the filly further, Silver Spoon fiddled with her hooves and peered back at Ruby with pleading eyes and a shiver.

“It got really cold all of a sudden... you wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“Ugh, you are such a pain in the flanks,” Ruby muttered as she gathered the filly close again.

“Sorry, those are still off limits.”

“I wasn’t asking!”

“Oh really?”

“Really.”

“Really really?”

“Double really!”

“Awww... that’s too bad...”

“You’re lucky I like you...” Taking Ruby’s subtle cue to lay off for a little bit, Silver Spoon ceased her fun-having and proceeded with the love-making, though only as much as is acceptable for two young fillies who had only recently begun to bond. Shifting as she pulled out a hoof, Silver Spoon slid one under Ruby’s foreleg and gave a gentle tug, inducing another silence as a world of mystery both frightful and enthralling stretched out before the two, and not just because of their racing hearts. If she were asked of her true feelings regarding their back and forth, Ruby knew she would confidently reply that their teasing was every bit as precious to her as the tenderness they were sharing at that moment. It was good, then, that she was savoring her time alone with Silver Spoon, because it only lasted a few more seconds.

“Ruby?”

“Wahhh!” With a startled yelp at her mother’s voice and a tumultuous crash as her hasty extrication from Silver Spoon landed her horn first on the floor, Ruby took a few moments to hold her smarting head while the room stopped spinning. When she did open her eyes, she found her mother standing in the doorway with a look that said “I know everything.” “Mo~m! Don’t do that!”

“Do what, sweetie?” Berry replied with a hint of a smile.

“That thing you... just did now, and the... the door opening... thing!”

“But I thought that doors were made for opening?”

“They’re also made for closing!”

“Ruby, this isn’t like you,” Berry Punch soothed in a soft tone, stepping inside and glancing at Silver Spoon. The filly’s cheeks were roughly the same hue as the mare’s coat, and having been secretly watching for some time, Berry didn’t really need an explanation to see what was going on. “Also, it’s quite rude to leave your friend up there all by herself.”

“Mom? What’re you...”

“Go on, Ruby. I’ll wait.” Desperately missing the pleasant kind of burning in her cheeks, Ruby quietly crawled up beside Silver Spoon and purposefully left enough space for two or three young ponies to fit between them. “Now, then... Ruby, Silver Spoon: is there something you’d like to tell me?” Berry had expected the ensuing silence, and let the seconds tick by without interference. With no small amount of hesitancy, the two fillies slowly turned to face each other, held each other’s gaze for a moment, and hastily turned away.

“You tell her.”

“Wait, what?” Ruby cried, leaping upright and whirling to face a pony who was busy examining her bed fabric. “Why me?”

“Because your the col-”

“Don’t even try to pull that! There’s no way you’re just going to dump this on me!” Ruby stated, taking a step closer. “Besides, this isn’t about you, it’s about u- uh... I, um...”

“Ruby?”

“No, stop that! No fair giving me pouty eyes!” Ruby whined, ignoring her mother completely as Silver Spoon fixed her with a pleading stare. “Ugh, you are so... just... rrrrgh! Fine!” Her pointed stomping lost something in translation, and Berry found it increasingly difficult to maintain a straight face as her blushing daughter turned towards her and averted her eyes. “So, um... m-mom?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“I guess that... you know, I’m... kind of...” Ruby started, her mind darting a million directions at once. “What I mean is, well... Silver Spoon is... and I... we, might, um... sorta... be... something?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not quite sure I understand, Ruby. Could you please be a little more clear for your muzzy mother?”

No, as a matter of fact, I can’t! I wasn’t planning on doing this until... some other time! Next week, tomorrow, pretty much any time but today! Ugh, how do I say this? “W-we might... kind of be a... thingy... and, um... do... stuff?”

“You... do stuff with Silver Spoon?”

“N-no! T-that’s not what I meant!” Ruby stammered loudly, fiddling with her hooves and finding her words hopelessly jumbled. “It’s just... she and I... are, um...” A soft sigh escaped unnoticed from Silver Spoon as she glanced over at Ruby, still trying desperately to bumble through her explanation.

I suppose it isn’t really fair to dump all the responsibility on her... Not feeling very confident her in eloquence, Silver Spoon decided that what couldn’t adequately be said with words could likely be shown, and hopefully that would be explanation enough. Ruby was too jumbled to notice her friend slowly, bashfully draw closer, and it wasn’t until two hooves cupped her muzzle that she stopped talking. “You’re... cute when you can’t think.” Without a moment to collect herself, Silver Spoon compounded all the potential awkwardness of a ten minute explanation into a single moment with a sudden kiss.

“Oh! I see,” Berry chortled, covering her muzzle with a hoof as Silver Spoon pulled away with an unsure smile while her daughter sat shell-shocked. “Doing stuff, huh?”

“...y-yeah?” Ruby managed, her voice squeaking. “Um... n-not a lot... of, um... of stuff.”

“Very well. Have fun!” Sauntering out of the room, Berry had just made it to the living room when her daughter’s voice rang out behind her.

“Mom, what... I... that’s it?!?”

“Well, given the circumstances... yeah, I think that’s it,” the mother replied with a knowing grin. “Unless, of course, you think I need to give you a lecture on contraceptives, though I-”

“No!” Slamming the door shut and stomping away, Ruby leapt onto her bed, turned to face the traitorous portal that had granted entry to her mother, and glared.

“That went well.”

“W-well?” Ruby sputtered, turning towards Silver Spoon who knocked away a good chunk of the filly’s ire with a single, radiant smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more nervous and embarrassed in my whole life! And just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, you... you went and... on my lips!”

“Excuse~ me for trying to help,” Silver Spoon replied with an air of injured dignity. “Next time, I’ll just let you keep digging, if that’s what you want.”

“You could have at least gone for the cheek,” Ruby shot back half-heartedly.

“Yes, well, that wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun,” Silver Spoon declared, scooting closer and dropping her smarmy confidence as she nervously scratched at her foreleg. “I... didn’t really upset you, did I?”

It’s just not fair. I can’t stay angry at her for more than a few seconds without wanting to give her a hug. “No, Spoony, you did fine,” Ruby said, relinquishing her frustrations with a sigh. “It probably would have taken me a whole lot longer to explain if you hadn’t gotten sloppy, and-”

“I was not being sloppy,” Silver Spoon interjected with an indignant sniff, pointing her muzzle into the air. “Although... I’m sure that could be arranged?” she teased, cracking open an eye.

“Hah! You wish!” Ruby laughed, prodding the filly’s side and immediately getting a reaction. “Ticklish much?” Catching the mischievous glint in the filly’s eyes, Silver Spoon took to the defensive and leapt upright, slowly backing away.

“Don’t you dare even think about-” It had already been thought, and with a flying tackle and merciless hooves, an overly sensitive earth pony set to serenading the surrounding houses with a gale of piercing squeals. Ruby, however, was just as susceptible, and what little energy may have been stored during their nap was quickly spent. Too wrapped up in their very first tickle fight to notice the door crack open, the clearing of a throat caused the two to pause their antics for an infomercial.

“Alright, Ruby. See, these are called ‘birth control pills,’ and-”

“Mom~!”

“You’re right, you’re probably already aware,” Berry quipped, slipping away as the filly armed herself with a pillow.

“See what I told you? Total pain in the flanks!”

“Off... limits!” Silver Spoon wheezed, giggling up a storm as Ruby flopped onto her back with a groan. “Oh, come on, you know you’re having fun.”

“Hmph.”

“Don’t be like that... besides, this was just practice.”

“Practice?” Ruby repeated, sitting up and staring at Silver Spoon like she’d just suggested a bath of molten cheese or something equally ridiculous. “What’re you talking about?”

“We are still going to the tavern, aren’t we? I’m sure all your friends are going to want to know. Don’t worry, Ruby. You’ll probably find it easier the second time around.” The only sound Silver Spoon heard in response was the quiet squeak of springs as Ruby let herself fall back.

“It’s going to be a long night, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps,” Silver Spoon conceded, slowly climbing up beside Ruby and fixing her with a caring grin. It was the kind of smile that washed away the worries and cares of the world, and her heart was, once again, given cause to skip. “At least... it’ll be a night spent together, right?” A rosen hoof slowly reached out and covered one of silvery grey, and pink eyes twinkled as they beheld a caring violet gaze.

“You’re cute when you’re sappy.”

That afternoon had been very special for Applebloom. Not only had Rumble proven through studious attention to detail and effective application that he may well be a competent apprentice, but he had also done a tremendous job of making it through the lesson unscathed. A number of innocent planks had met an untimely demise, and a loose grip on his hammer had demonstrated his aptitude for making “modern art,” but the newly formed cracks in the barn wall were hardly worth mentioning when set alongside the genuine exuberance brimming from the colt as he put the finishing touches on his first real test.

Applebloom made no effort to restrain the corners of her mouth from lifting into a smile as she observe her colt at work. His face was scrunched up in fervent concentration as he delicately aligned a nail, gave it a few gentle taps, and continued tap tapping away until it had joined the two boards together. It didn’t take Applebloom very long to figure out that Rumble really didn’t know anything about construction, neither the proper handling of tools nor the safety precautions one should take to avoid smashed hooves, nicked limbs, and various other things that could result in blood loss. Things that Applebloom took to be common sense, having spent her whole life on a farm, were soon found to be necessary lessons for her colt, and most of the afternoon was spent giving him the lowdown on how to not land himself in the clinic trying to “help.”

And yet, she couldn’t well say she found playing the teacher all that disagreeable. After all, Rumble was the very model of a perfect student, paying close attention to every word and putting her advice to practice. The only problems arose when the colt got excited and lost his concentration, at which point nails went in screwy, screws got nailed, and hammers were mistaken for frisbees. Still, as the colt trotted over and proudly set his practice project in front of her, nothing more than two boards nailed together and cut to the same length, Applebloom found herself unable to imagine a more fulfilling afternoon. She looked at the work, then back at the colt beaming bright, and concluded that the thrill of progress just couldn’t measure up to Rumble’s smile.

“Alright, let’s take a look,” Applebloom said cheerfully, patting a spot beside her and pulling the project close. “Hmmm...”

“Uh oh...”

“It’s great!”

“Really?”

“Sure! Well, great for a first timer,” Applebloom corrected, grinning as the colt’s countenance fell a little. “Oh, don’t be like that, Rumble. You’re only just learnin’, so of course you’re gonna make a mistake here and there! That’s how ya get better!”

“Uh huh!” Rumble quipped, brimming with excitement once more. “So, um... what’d I mess up?”

“Well, the boards aren’t exactly cut straight, and you used nails just a little too long, see? They’re pokin’ through the bottom. Oh, and ya forgot t’ sand it down.” Rumble furrowed his brow as he frowned at his work before turning his attention once more to the filly who didn’t appear disappointed in the slightest.

“Is there anything I did do right?”

“Ya did tons o’ things right!” Applebloom cheered, throwing her hooves wide. “Yer nails are straight, you didn’t pound ‘em in too much and ding up the board, and it’s stuck together pretty... umph! Really good!” she finished, grunting as she tried to pull them apart. “Maybe you’ve got a knack fer buildin’ stuff ya didn’t know about, Rumble. You sure are learnin’ fast.” The honest filly found herself hastily embraced as her words of high praise filled Rumble’s heart with gratitude, and she let the practice project drop to the floor so she could use her hooves for other things: hugging, namely.

“You’re precious, Rumble...”

“Uh huh...”

“Prideful too, by the sound of it,” Applebloom chuckled, tightening her squeeze just a little.

“Uh huh!”

“Ah can accept that, ah guess,” Applebloom said with tender affection as she pulled away with a playful smirk pasted to her muzzle. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with bein’ proud o’ honest work! But... it looks like we’ll ‘ave t’ start on our project another day,” she commented, looking out at the sky. “Sun’s gonna set soon, an’ ah know fer a fact that the moment ah take up mah mallet, ah won’t wanna leave.” Seemingly countermanding her point, the filly trotted over to the book Rumble had brought and began skimming over the materials and tools, making a mental checklist in her head.

Let’s see... we should have enough wood fer somethin’ like this, though Applejack might put up a little bit of a fuss. Ah’ll need t’ buy some new nails, make sure mah lathe ain’t rusted... been a while since ah used it last. “Caulking... gun?” Curious, Rumble wandered over and took a seat beside Applebloom who pointed at the name amongst a list of other ingredients. “What ‘n tarnation is a caulking gun? Ah’m a farm pony; mallet an’ nails is normally all ah need!”

“Shoot, that sounds familiar...” Rumble muttered, wracking his brain to try and remember. “Do they have a picture of it in the book somewhere?” After a little searching through the glossary, they found a “Know Your Tools” section, and there, for both ponies to see, was a most magnificent contraption. “There, that one! It’s the goo gun!”

“Ah don’t know what that is, but it sounds like fun! Is it... does it shoot glue?”

“It only shoots when you squeeze the trigger super hard, but I played with it all the time when I was little! Made a mess, too. The stuff that comes out is, like, super glue!” Having just blown a little filly’s mind, Rumble ceased his explanation and took a moment to snicker at the huge starry eyed grin Applebloom was giving the schematics in front of her. A device for expelling copious quantities of thick, gooey glue? Poor filly, she simply wasn’t ready to be blindsided with such wonder, and Rumble grimaced as a piercing whoop of ecstasy shook the barn.

“How did ah not know about somethin’ so wonderful? Ah haven’t lived yet!” Applebloom raved, romping in excited circles as she imagined the applications. Rumble sat by, enjoying the show, though he couldn’t help but give a start as she suddenly whirled and thrust her muzzle close. “Do ya still have it, Rumble?”

“Uh... huh?” the colt replied slowly, blushing a little as his fillyfriend’s adorable spaz factor overclocked itself. “It’s down in my basement, and...” Rumble soon found that the thought of glue was, apparently, an aphrodisiac for the young filly, as his tantalizing thoughts of a quick peck were replaced with a gratuitous smooch framed by a whoop of delight. Unaware that she’d just caught Rumble completely off guard, Applebloom romped towards the door in giddy anticipation of the wonders to come.

“Come on, Rumble, we’re...” Applebloom called out, turning to find Rumble scratching at his foreleg and his wings spread wide. “Shoot, ah got a little too excited, didn’t ah?” Applebloom chuckled, smiling sheepishly.

“Uh huh,” Rumble agreed, matching her shy smile with his own as he stood and slowly walked over.

“Ah... suppose ah can hold off fer a bit,” she conceded, meeting him halfway and shoving him into a pile of hay. Applebloom followed up her unexpected display of roughness with a tender embrace as she took her place beside the colt laying on his back with wings outstretched, and any notion he had of calming the tension in his downy appendage was gently brushed aside as the warmth of her back enveloped a wing. With her head resting lightly on the colt’s chest and the colt’s wings timidly wrapped around the filly, Applebloom accepted the tickle in her cheeks with a smile, enjoying the erratic fluttering of Rumble’s racing heart. “So much fer calmin’ down, huh?”

“Uh huh...” Rumble murmured, staring up at the cieling in a daze. The whole stiffness in the wings thing was a recent development, and was thoroughly embarrassing to have happen in public, but alone, with the only filly he’d let anywhere near his wings cuddled up to his chest, he found it difficult to remain ashamed. Feeling very much the same, Applebloom accepted the warmth rising to her cheeks as an acceptable reward for risking a stern lecture from Applejack; cuddling under supervision was one thing, but laying together in the barn was something else entirely.

“Rumble?”

“Uh huh?”

“Ah just... wanna say thanks fer stickin’ with me.” Cream cheeks were suddenly topped with strawberry as the colt rolled towards the timid filly enjoying a merry ride in a cart full of feels. “Ah know ah said it earlier, ah just... it really means somethin’ t’ me that somepony would stick around an’ watch me work away a whole weekend afternoon, but you... you did a whole lot more than just stick around, even after ah lost mah temper...” A hesitant, pale silver hoof slowly wrapped around the filly’s shoulders, and found no resistance as a gentle tug brought two hearts as close as was physically possible.

“Ah suddenly... don’t feel like traipsin’ through yer basement anymore.” Burying her muzzle as the veiled romance behind the statement lit her cheeks ablaze, Applebloom felt the low rumble of laughter build into a soothing chuckle, and a quick squeeze let the filly know her smooth talking wasn’t lost on the colt. “If anypony had told me a week ago that ah’d be gettin’ all lovey dovey with some pegasus ah didn’t even know, ah’d have told ‘em they’d gotten into a bad batch o’ cider. An’ yet... here ah am.”

“Uh huh! Is that... bad?”

“No, Rumble. It’s... better than glitter glue.” It was Applebloom’s turn to grin as a young chest puffed up with pride, pressing against her own; there was no greater compliment to be given from the filly. Enraptured as they were, the creak of the barn door was lost on the two as Applejack stepped in, framed by the fading light. She opened her mouth to speak, but refrained, choosing instead to observe. Sneaking around behind one of the stalls, the mare eased herself down and closed her eyes, listening intently as the voices spoke up again.

“So, um... how long do you think it’ll take us to finish the boat?” a colt’s voice sounded out, followed swiftly after by Applebloom’s.

“Ah dunno. Forever, ah’m hopin’.”

“You don’t want to finish it?”

“Well, o’ course ah do!” the filly’s voice declared without the slightest tinge of annoyance. “Ah mean... if we finish the boat, then our special project will be over. Ah really enjoyed havin’ somepony workin’ by mah side. Why would ah want that to end?” Applejack strained her ears as a few seconds of silence ticked by, but the mare couldn’t help but smile as the colt gave his answer.

“Um, Applebloom? I know I’m not very good, but I wouldn’t mind if every project became ‘our’ project.”

“Do... do ya really mean that?”

“Uh huh!”

“You’re sure you ain’t gonna get bored an’ quit?”

“Nuh uh!”

“Rumble, you... you’re bein’ serious. You really did have fun?”

“Uh huh... So... let’s shoot for a little earlier than forever, ok?”

“O-okay...” Rising quietly without a word, Applejack slipped out, casting a glance over her shoulder to see the two sharing a tender kiss atop the hay. Even in the dim light, their young faces were flushed, but rather than anxiety, the elder sibling felt something much closer to relief. Strolling amongst the trees as the first few stars twinkled into view, Applejack slowed to a stop and took a seat in the path, lifting her gaze to the jeweled sky.

Ma, pa? Ah’ve done my very best t’ try an’ keep Applebloom goin’ on the right path. Ah’ve been hard on her at times, even when ah know she’s had it rough tryin’ t’ be strong without y’all from the start. Somehow, though, even with so many things that could go wrong, ah think... no, ah really believe that this colt is gonna be exactly what she needs. You’ve always been there, watchin’ over us, so ah’d just like t’ ask... ‘ave ah done alright? Is it time fer me t’ let go?

Tears of gratitude welled in the grown mare’s eyes as twin comets cut a shimmering trail through the skies, and Applejack whispered her thanks to the starry skies that had once again put her heart at ease. A heavy hoof descended on her back as the first few drops spilled onto the ground, and she turned to find her brother’s calm gaze reassuring what the stars had already foretold. “She’s gonna be alright... ain’t she, brother?” Big Macintosh lifted his gaze and pulled his little sister close, studying the sky that was filling with stars by the second. He answered with only a single word, but it was all that was needed, and it was spoken with the confidence she needed to hear.

“Eeyup.”

For much of her life, Scootaloo had opted out of maintaining any standard of girliness, so one may wonder how plunging headlong into the realm of romance would affect her sense of self. The filly really had no idea what would happen when she stepped out of her front door that morning, but as she and Pipsqueak found a lull in their games, chatting quietly as they walked through the countryside, she felt like nothing and everything had changed. Her “sudden” interest in that which she hadn’t dared to dabble before wasn’t actually sudden at all, and while her curiosity may have been stuffed down to the point of feeling nonexistent at times, trepidation crumbled in the face of the overwhelming gratification she felt by finally setting herself free.

Perhaps the biggest issue that remained was finding a balance so as to not seem bipolar, and that was going to take some doing. Scootaloo was still fiercely competitive, had no issue getting her hooves dirty, and was more likely to smack somepony silly rather than keep her calm and leave them humiliated with a clever retort. In and of itself, this wasn’t a problem, but it did strike Pipsqueak as a touch hard to follow when she’d shift suddenly from growling to bashful and then back to monster hunting, all within the space of a few seconds. Pipsqueak, however, was quick to adapt, taking her puzzling moments in stride and gleaning strength from the filly’s exuberance and support, though as evening drew nigh, the pair found themselves merrily exhausted from a jam-packed evening of mostly-fictional conquests.

They’d vanquished the monkey king and his mutant banana horde, escaped multiple zombie pony uprisings unscathed, scaled to the highest peak of the tallest stall, and liberated a wrongfully imprisoned milkshake from the candy fortress. Savoring a time of rest after the final battle, the two sat together in the field, enjoying the spoils of an afternoon well spent. Scootaloo glanced up at the brilliant evening sky, watching the hues shift to match her mane and coat with vivid shades of gold and orange and accented by the softer shades of cerulean and magenta, and then across at her captain, slurping on the last few drops of milkshake. The colt paused and regarded the filly with adorably curious eyes as he found himself being watched, but rather than avert her eyes or stammer out an excuse, Scootaloo shifted a little closer and leaned her head against the colt’s shoulder.

“Is everything all right?” Pipsqueak asked, feeling a tinge of heat light his cheeks as the filly’s soft mane brushed the side of his neck. Still a little unused to hearing him speak without his pirate dialect, it took Scootaloo a few seconds to answer, though they were well spent snuggling closer to her adventurous heater.

“I’m fine... Pipsqueak,” she replied slowly, feeling the butterflies awaken at speaking his name in such a tender manner. “It’s just... this is really nice, you know? We had a ton of fun today, and even though we’re beat and it’s getting cold, I... don’t really want to move. I don’t want the day to end.”

Setting aside the glass cup and making a mental note to return it to Sugarcube Corner at a later time, Pipsqueak fiddled with his hooves a minute before shyly reaching across Scootaloo’s shoulders and pulling her into a loose embrace. She melted like butter, pressing against his side and letting her head fall to his chest where she nuzzled a little, searching for the perfect position to rest. Nestled within painted hooves, the filly let slip an airy sigh and pondered once more why exactly she had considered such activity so abhorrent; it felt pretty nice to her.

“Hey, Scootaloo?” Pipsqueak said quietly, easing the tired filly from her contemplations.

“Yeah, what is it, captain?” she replied, following up with a yawn.

“How long have you liked girly stuff?”

“Oh, gosh,” Scootaloo groaned, laughing a little as she pulled away to collect her thoughts. “Let’s see... I think I’ve always been just a tiny bit curious what it would be like to act all fancy, but I never really considered giving it a shot until around the time I got my cutie mark.” She paused a moment and glanced down at her flank, where a butterfly with wings shaped like lightning had appeared nearly a year prior. “I wasn’t happy.”

“Why? You dance really well.”

“Yeah, but... a butterfly?” Scootaloo defended half-heartedly with a rueful grin. “It’s like... I wanted something that screamed ‘awesome, like Rainbow Dash!’ Even with the lightning wings, it’s hard to call a butterfly ‘fierce.’ Still, I guess I should have paid a little more attention to my legs, because the few times I did dance, I loved it.”

“It sounds like we both have problems listening to our better judgement,” Pipsqueak chuckled with a lopsided grin. “Everypony told me that Ponyville was a much quieter town than Trottingham, and that I wouldn’t have to worry about being bullied, but it took me nearly a year to try and make friends. Still, who would have thought that I’d make friends with a princess?”

“That’s right, I was meaning to ask... how did you and Luna get so close?”

“I thought she was gonna eat me,” Pipsqueak stated without a shred of sarcasm. “I thought she was still Nightmare Moon!” the colt defended as his fillyfriend clutched her sides and let her laughter carry across the countryside. “It was my very first Nightmare Night, and one of the first times I’d actually been able to talk to other ponies my age without worrying about being stomped... how would you respond if a giant winged unicorn landed her chariot not five ponylengths from where you were standing?”

“Duh, I was there, remember? I was one of the ponies running away with you!” Scootaloo chortled, wiping a tear of mirth from her eyes. “You know, that really was a scary Nightmare Night...” Pipsqueak nodded, slightly confused as the filly dropped her volume to a gentle murmur. “Even back then, you were brave enough to face your fears... I’m still just getting started.”

“I had a lot of ponies there to help me feel safe,” Pipsqueak defended, not feeling very worthy of the title “brave.” Still, maybe I’m stronger than I feel. Scootaloo sure seems to think so... “So, what are you still afraid of?”

“Showing you my closet.” Scootaloo grew indignant as the colt failed to contain a gale of giggles from slipping out his muzzle. “I’m serious!” the filly pressed, covering her face in embarrassment. “I’ve never shown anypony my closet! Sure, I’ve let Sweetie Belle and Applebloom in, but they don’t know either...”

“Know what?” Pipsqueak asked, stowing his mirth like a gentlecolt should and drawing a little closer to the filly.

“Gee, I dunno,” she replied sarcastically, peeking out from behind her hooves, “how about the fact that I have a bajillion conditioners and shampoos, more scrunchies and hair clips than Carousel Boutique has ribbons- which I have too, by the way... Oh, and I’ve got no fewer than twenty dresses, a drawer full of socks that nopony save maybe my snooping mother has seen me in, and enough fragrance to put a flower shop to shame. There: now you know, like, everything,” she concluded, folding her hooves across her chest. “My room is secretly a sanctuary of prissy stuff.”

Huh, that felt... really good, getting all that off my chest. Having finished her confession, she couldn’t help but smile a little at the colt sitting before her, either shell-shocked from information overload or simply staring into space. “Uh, are you ok?”

“Socks...”

“...what.”

“Huh? N-nothing!”

“I haven’t even asked what you’re thinking about yet.”

“Flowers!”

“Careful, captain: this flower has thorns.”

“Ahoy, is that a challenge I hear?” Pipsqueak laughed, leaping back and adopting a sparring stance.

“It wasn’t, but it sure is now!” Scootaloo shot back, scanning the ground around her hooves. It didn’t take long to spot a decent sized branch that could be snapped off to a proper length, and the filly sauntered over, shot her captain a wink to let him know she wasn’t at all upset that the thought of her in socks had lingered in his mind, and then adopted what she thought was a proper fighting stance. As eager as he was to get sparring, Pipsqueak realized that he would have to educate Scootaloo on the basics if he wanted anything close to a challenge that night: her defenses had more holes than a changeling eating swiss cheese.

“It seems me flower ain’t properly versed in the arts o’ war,” Pipsqueak said with a low chuckle, raising a placating hoof as Scootaloo shot him an indignant look. “Simmer down, lass, I wasn’t harpin’ on ye,” he assured her, drawing up beside her. “Ye might not think it, but fancy hoofwork is vital t’ swordplay. In a way, ye might say it’s like dancin’.”

“Really?” Scootaloo wondered aloud, intrigued by the correlation.

“Yeah, dancing!” Pipsqueak quipped. “Well, except that you’re swinging around something sharp and trying not to die. Other than that, they’re the same!”

“Ok, that’s cool, but we haven’t even started yet,” Scootaloo continued, dropping her gaze to her hooves.

“Here, um... let me show you.” Flushing lightly as their hooves touched, Pipsqueak moved one hoof forward, another hoof back, and then pressed lightly on her back to loosen her tensed spine. “You’ve gotta be loose so you can adapt. Standing as rigid as you were would make it difficult to parry,” Pipsqueak explained, trotting a short distance away and then turning back around. Oh, good; she’s blushing too. I’m glad I'm not the only one.

“I’ll go ahead and give a little demonstration before we fight, alright?”

“S-sure thing, captain,” Scootaloo replied, setting aside her branch. She watched Pipsqueak as he unsheathed his blade and adopted the same stance that he had shown her, and she felt the warmth within her chest flare a little as he smiled around the hilt of his trusty prop.

“Wtch muh huvs.” Scootaloo was worried at first that she’d have trouble focusing, given that she could still feel where his hoof had touched her chest, but within moments of his first swing, she was mesmerized. Her eyes drew away from the flashy swordplay and fixated on the colt’s hooves; they seemed to reposition with every swing, sometimes by just a fraction of a hooflength and other times taking a whole new stance. With every step, the filly found herself more enthralled, and as the colt finished with a flourish, he grew delightfully bashful from being regarded with such starry eyes.

“So, um... would you like to-”

“Don’t even ask such a ridiculous question!” Scootaloo squealed, recalling the stance she’d been taught and executing it flawlessly. “Anything else?”

“Aye, um... I’ll do my very best not to hurt you, but I might mess up and hit you on accident.”

“Don’t worry, captain,” Scootaloo replied, nodding her understanding. “I’m tough stuff! Just... try not to leave any bruises, especially around the face. Storm would kinda kill you if you left any marks.”

“Well then... may I have this dance?” Shuddering as a wave of anticipation swept her frame like wildfire, Scootaloo snatched up her weapon and stood at the ready. Pipsqueak started the rhythm as he took his first cautious swing. It was, to Scootaloo, insultingly slow, and as the blades crossed, the filly adopted a look of boredom and rolled her eyes. Pipsqueak could see the fire in her eyes. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and he pulled away, nodded, and struck from a different angle with more speed. Scootaloo let slip a grunt as she deflected the blow and was forced to reposition as Pipsqueak followed around for another attack.

“Wtch duh huvs,” Pipsqueak cautioned, pausing a moment as Scootaloo peered down at them. She gave him a grin, and they began again. The colt was blown away by the ease with which Scootaloo adapted, and what was to be a training session became one of the most epic clashes the colt had ever had. Every jolt from every parry carried with it the fevered passion of the filly behind the branch, unwavering even as she was continually bested. Her natural dexterity couldn’t overcome Pipsqueak’s trained hooves in a night, but she held her own, bearing the blows and letting them drive her to greater efforts. Even though she never managed to land a strike on her elusive opponent, she felt nothing but elation as she, just for a time, found the balance her heart desired. It was during those precious minutes under the fading light of the setting sun that she was able to satisfy both her love for a good challenge with every parry and her grace with every skillfully deflected counter.

Ducking a slash and parrying another, the filly shot her best challenging grin at Pipsqueak and launched a counterattack that put her captain on the defensive. Startling the filly with a swipe at her hooves, the colt followed through with a smashing blow that put Scootaloo’s laudable balance to shame, landing her flat on her back. Looking up into the colt’s shining eyes, the filly couldn’t tell if she wanted to smack his smug mug or cup it in both hooves and lean in deep; she was sore tempted to try both.

“Ye did a fine job, lass,” the dashing rogue declared, sheathing his blade with a flourish and offering a helping hoof. Scootaloo flashed a radiant grin, reached forward, and snickered as she yanked hard, landing the exhausted colt on his stomach beside her. “...ye also fight dirty.”

“Winning with wits isn’t underhoofed, and I gotta be able to win somehow!” Scootaloo defended, sitting up and grinning back at the colt. “It’s gonna take me awhile to get as good as you, but... that was one of the most awesome things I’ve ever done, so... thank you for dancing with me, Pipsqueak.”

“It was my pleasure, Scootaloo.” They gazed into each other’s eyes... and Pipsqueak noticed a redness around the filly’s muzzle. “Uh oh... I messed up.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” she laughed, shrugging it off. “Sure, I’m all sore from getting whacked...” the filly said with a groan, rubbing her side with one hoof and fixing her mane with the other. “...but I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” Reaching over, she slipped her hoof over Pipsqueak’s to reassure the colt that her words were genuine. “Trust me, Pipsqueak. It was totally worth it.” Removing her hoof and averting her muzzle so she couldn’t fall victim to the colt, who maintained a laudable charm-rating himself, Scootaloo reminisced over how enthralled she was at finding a balance and pondered what other ways she could combine her interests. Hearing a sigh, Scootaloo redirected her attention to a tuckered earth pony who lay on his back with his hooves adorably tucked up to his chest and felt a flutter in her stomach as desire bred yet another opportunity for balance.

I can’t remember feeling more at peace than when we were sparring. For so long, I’ve felt like I had to choose being graceful or rough and tumble, and then, all of a sudden, I held both in my hooves. Maybe... there can be balance in other ways too? There’s no reason we can’t be romantic and have fun at the same time, right? A tremor of excitement ran through the filly as she fixed the colt in a lurid gaze, batted her eyelashes, and held forth a hoof. “Tis not fitting to strike a queen. Pay your respects, or it’s to the dungeon with you!” Caught a little off guard, Pipsqueak sat up and regarded Scootaloo with a blank stare before noticing the faint redness in her cheeks that wasn’t from his blade.

“A thousand apologies, your highness,” Pipsqueak replied in a regal tone, sweeping a hoof out and around before bringing it low in a humble bow. Peering into the eyes of the pony that filled him with strength, he held her gaze for just a moment before gently cradling her hoof within his own and graced her highness with a respectful kiss on the hoof. It was like sparring, but with lips.

Who would have thought... that what I wanted was so easy? Everypony was right: I just needed to let it out. Pipsqueak’s imagination never really stopped flowing, and it wasn’t with annoyance that Scootaloo regarded the sudden pinch of teeth nipping her hoof, but a rush of excitement that was much stronger than she was expecting. "Ow! What the-" Scootaloo started, squealing with laughter as Pipsqueak shirked chivalry and tackled her into the grass.

"I'm a zombie pony, and I'm gonna gobble you up!" Pipsqueak informed his food, though his snarl came out a snicker as he failed to keep a straight face.

"...ok." With a teasing grin and rosy cheeks, Scootaloo looked into the face of her demise and found it to be quite winsome, while the predator looked upon his prey with fascination and abject confusion.

"Um... but, you... you're supposed to run away, Scootaloo," Pipsqueak informed her, not entirely sure what game was being played.

"Nah, s'cool. I'm too tired to run," Scootaloo shrugged, making no effort to move. Comprehension drew the corners of the colt’s mouth into a warm grin, and he looked deep into the eyes of his meal and shuddered at the beauty.

"So... do I still eat you?" he asked softly, leaning a little closer.

"Just a taste,” Scootaloo replied in an equally subdued tone, blushing hard. “We've got to head to the tavern soon, remember? I don’t want to, you know... be missing any limbs, or whatever..." Blushing, bashful, and verifiably the most caring zombie pony ever to roam Equestria, Pipsqueak obeyed the voice of his queen and spared her limbs as he was graciously permitted a “snack” of his “prey,” whose “cries” of “agony” were nothing more than the soft sighs of a deeply enamored filly. A painted hoof helped the orange filly upright as their kiss was brought to a close, and under the light of the first twinkling stars, the two began their slow walk towards the town, a place where they would both draw upon the other’s strength to lay aside their masks.

From her vantage point atop a scilliant white mane streaked with teal, an awestruck filly brought two small, indigo hooves up to cover her mouth. For one of her plans to come to fruition was a joyous occasion indeed, but even the young foal, just shy of two, had been struck speechless by what she’d been blessed to witness. From the crest of the hill, Dawn watched Sweetie Belle shift closer to her scaled guardian, still shaking lightly from the raw outpouring of emotion that had followed what was, to be sure, the most moving song she’d ever lifted to the heavens. And her protector’s words, whispered quietly in the fading light of the early eve, had been imprinted upon the heart of a filly held close, never to be forgotten.

“Atta colt...” Cerulean whispered, unable to keep from grinning as he cast a glance upwards to make sure his daughter was still breathing. He shook his head a little bit and was rewarded with a gasp that came out as more of a muffled squee, and a warmth against his side drew his attention to a magical mare moved to tears of pride in her student’s progress and depth of resolve. “I know you don’t need me to tell you this, but you’ve really raised him well, Twilight,” Cerulean murmured, reaching around with a hoof and drawing her close.

“It’s still nice to hear, though, so thank you,” Twilight whispered back, grateful that she had been part of orchestrating such a pivotal moment in Spike’s life. “It’s a little strange, watching him grow up... I’m worried he’ll begin to drift away, but seeing him like this... how could I possibly do anything but encourage him?”

“Oh, you and I both know he’s got a ways to go,” Cerulean replied easily, garnering a hopeful look laden with skepticism. “He’s a dragon, and she’s a pony. There are bound to be some bumps in their road to happiness, but he’s proven today that he can, and will, overcome. So do encourage him, Twilight. He cherishes every word, I promise.”

“Only you could make me feel excited and depressed at the same time,” Twilight muttered, chuckling a little as she cleared her eyes. “You’re right, of course, but I hope those times are far off. Spike’s had enough adjusting to do, so I hope... he’ll have some time to just enjoy himself. Being my assistant, he hasn’t really had much of a time to be anything else...”

“Now, now, stop that,” Cerulean demanded teasingly as if he actually had the authority. “If I’m not allowed to be depressing, then neither are you!”

“Sullen?”

“Nope.”

“Angsty?”

“Nuh uh.”

“Deeply steeped in ire?”

“Dawn, I believe your mother is asking for a bopping?” Cerulean began, turning his gaze towards the filly who still had yet to speak a word. “Hmmm, it seems you’ll be spared. She’s currently too-”

“Woohoo!” Dawn suddenly shouted as she found her voice, leaving her living perch partially deafened. “Spike an’ Sweebelle kissin’! See? They kissin’, daddy!” Unable to restrain herself any longer, the filly dashed, tripped, and tumbled down the hill towards the couple fated to never have a dull moment. Seeing how Dawn had led the charge, Twilight and Cerulean started down after their daughter who was much too stoked to worry about any scrapes or bumps she may have acquired in her hasty descent. Giggling with glee and much too giddy to sit still, Dawn began dancing circles around the starlit lovers, singing her own song of love that mainly consisted of “kissin’, kissin’, yay!"

One would think such an event would threaten the mood, but Spike and Sweetie Belle had been interrupted more times than they cared to remember throughout the last week in search of the moment that they were sharing right then, and they weren’t about to let go. Rather than worrying about the fact that they were most definitely being watched, Spike pulled away just long enough to brush away the last few tears from Sweetie Belle’s cheeks before a knowing smile gave him the go ahead. With his claws around her waist and her hooves around his neck, the starlet and the pianist clung together through the last fleeting seconds of bliss, unwilling to let go, even as Dawn took full credit for the dragon’s success and openly bragged to her parents.

“See? I’ma genius!” Dawn declared triumphantly, kicking up her hooves as her excitement boiled over. “Spike ask me for help, an’ I told him to make Sweebelle a song so he’d gets lots an’ lots of kisses, an’ now they eatin’ face and bein’ happy!” At the phrase “eating face,” Spike was forced to pull away as both he and Sweetie Belle erupted into laughter, much to Dawn’s disappointment. “Awww, it’s over?” she pouted, trotting over and looking down at Spike with pleading eyes.

“Don’t worry, Dawn,” Spike chortled, stealing a glance at the filly failing to get a handle on her giggles. “I’m sure we’ll kiss again.”

“Already kissed!” she quipped, doing a little dance with her hooves. “Now needa go thump thump!” Baffled by the immediate cessation of mirth and awkward silence that ensued, Dawn looked from face to face with naive confusion. Kissing lots meant thump thump after; that’s just the way the world worked, right?

“Dawn? Um... Spike and Sweetie Belle can’t... ‘thump thump,’” Cerulean explained, garnering a frustrated look from his foal.

“Why not? Thumpin’ make a girl happy!” the filly stated with absolute conviction, stomping her hoof.

“Well, Dawn, if they’re thumping, they can’t be reading!” Twilight explained, hoping that touching on such an important subject would make the connection. She was mistaken, and Dawn’s adamant reply was instantaneous.

“Spike not readin’, he’s was kissin’. Spike don’t read, anyways.”

“How about breathing? That’s pretty important,” Cerulean added, taking a seat beside Twilight. Again, Dawn was unconvinced.

“Breath througha nose an’ kiss witha mouth.” Clearly, a certain set of parents needed to exercise a little more caution with their romantic evenings, and the stallion turned to his snickering mare with a smirk.

“This is your fault.”

“Huh? Why me?” Twilight inquired, putting a lid on her laughter.

“You don’t think she got her brain from me, do you?” Cerulean shot back with a grin.

“Oh, stop,” Twilight snorted with feigned exasperation. “We both know you’re not nearly as unintelligent as you act.”

“Act?”

“Ok, are. No, not are... you’re not as unintelligent as, um... you...” Twilight stalled, searching for the right words.

“Daddy’s dumbsmart,” Dawn stated with matter-of-fact eloquence. Spike had just begun to edge his way back towards Sweetie Belle when the statement once more brought him to the ground as everypony burst into laughter. Dawn was thoroughly chagrined by this, and why wouldn’t she be? Here she was, trying to help Spike live the dream while everypony else was talking about things not nearly as important as interspecies smooching. Irate, Dawn was about to bop everypony within a ten hoof radius when the scent of sweets quelled her wrath... and then doubled it as she was again forced to witness the abomination a la Pinkie Pie.

“Sweebelle! I told you not s’posed to put rocks onna cake!” Dawn cried, having flipped open the lid to the cake.

“Oh, hey! That’s right!” Spike all but shouted, licking his lips as he beheld the faintly glimmering treat. “Sweetie Belle, is it alright if I eat it now?”

“Of course!” she quipped, “that’s why I had Pinkie Pie make it! I mean, I would have made it myself, but... I wanted you to actually enjoy it.”

“Oh, I will,” Spike assured her, hurrying over to the filly trying to bore holes into the cake with her piercing glare. “Excuse me, Dawn. Can I eat my cake?”

“That notta cake,” Dawn answer flatly, turning up her snout in disgust. Bowing graciously to the filly, Spike gingerly lifted out the confection and took a moment more to appreciate the effort that had gone into it.

“Sweetie Belle? Thanks.” Without further delay, Spike wrapped the cake with his tongue and lifted the whole thing into his mouth. It caused his cheeks to pooch out in a way Sweetie Belle found strangely endearing, considering the atrocious slurping noises that accompanied the crunching, a sound akin to the gentry of Canterlot all donating their crystal glasses to a trash compactor filled with twigs and mud. Dawn stared wide eyed at the dragon as his eyes rolled back in sheer delight from the taste filling his mouth, Dawn sat stiff before frantically running over to her parents.

“Mommy, Spike breakin’ his teeth onna rock cake!” the filly cried, pointing a quavering hoof at somepony she was convinced would need extensive dental attention, and quickly. While Cerulean took the distraught filly aside to explain the how and why she had little cause for worry, Twilight cantered to the dragon as he finished his meal and pulled him close.

“You sure are growing up fast,” she said quietly, finding her own words to be bittersweet.

“Not as fast as I’d like,” Spike chuckled, returning his mentor’s embrace and dropping his tone as he sensed her worries. “Don’t worry, Twilight. You can’t outgrow friendship.”

“Just keep telling me that,” she said happily, squeezing just a little tighter. “Maybe one of these days I’ll learn.”

“And when you do, it’ll make an awesome letter to the princess,” Spike concluded, pulling away and smiling wide. “Thanks for all your help tonight, Twilight. I’ll tell you all about my day when I get home tonight, but me and Sweetie Belle are actually running a little late. We got kinda... distracted.” Twilight giggled a little as her student’s cheeks flushed visibly in the dim light as Sweetie Belle snuggled up beside him, clearly still a touch clingy given the way she wrapped herself around his claw.

“I look forward to it. Come on, you two, time to go! Dawn, be nice to daddy,” Twilight cautioned the foal, who was currently bopping the living daylights out of her father. Lifting the piano with ease, Twilight cast one last glance behind her before focusing her magic and leaving Spike alone with his fillyfriend in the wake of a brilliant flash of lavender.

“Sweetie Belle?” Startled by the suddenly contemplative tone, the filly turned her attention to the dragon who viewed her with gentle, green eyes. “I know we need to be heading towards the tavern but... would you mind... just a little more distraction?” Making no motion to brace himself as the filly literally threw herself at him, Spike fell back onto the grass and held the filly close. They’d been through the valley, if it could even be called that, so they felt no shame in celebrating coming to the peak; there was really no telling when the next drop would come. That night, however, they didn’t need to know. All they needed was that which they held, cherished in hoof and claw, and that was something they knew would never change.

Cutie Mark Couples

Chapter 24: Cutie Mark Couples

For all the adventure that dwelled within young hearts, there existed also a need for rest to counterbalance the flame that burned within. Five fillies, two colts, and a young dragon filed out onto the roof of the tavern, conversing amiably amongst themselves as they spread out blankets and lay down in a circle, grateful for a chance to put up their hooves and simply take a moment of stillness. For some, like the bespectacled earth pony huddled close to a pink unicorn, the concept of friendship, or rather a healthy interpretation of it, was a curious notion not previously entertained. For others, like the pegasus filly who was once more clad in a dress that could turn the eyes of Canterlot nobles, the evening was simply a chance to kick it with old friends while getting to know the new.

Despite being some of the closest knit ponies in Ponyville, the Crusaders hadn’t really had much time to catch up. It seemed like everypony had a story to tell, and so came the story time. Always ready with a tale, Pipsqueak eagerly wove an elaborate yarn of swashbuckling daring do and near-death experiences, from the immovable Gatekeeper to the menacing Colossus of the Clouds. Drawing things to a close recounting the epic sparring match that had won the heart of his maiden and, more hesitantly, the reward for his feats, Pipsqueak bowed with a flourish amidst thunderous hoof stomping before taking a seat next to Scootaloo.

“Ouch! What was that for?” the colt asked indignantly, rubbing his foreleg where Scootaloo had lightly smacked him.

“‘She melted into my hooves and whispered sweet nothings into my ears, begging for just one more kiss?’ That’s so not what happened!” Scootaloo shot back, blushing in the moonlight while her friends had themselves a good natured laugh.

“Don’t feel bad, Scootaloo!” Applebloom piped up, quite contentedly holding onto Rumble’s hoof. “It ain’t like it’s the end o’ the world that ya figured out you’re a filly. Besides, ah think we can all agree that kissin’ is right nice.”

“Huh, easy for you to say,” Scootaloo grumbled while everyone else murmured their agreement. “You don’t have a scary older brother just waiting to drop from the sky the moment you even start thinking about getting sappy.”

“Applejack may not be able to fly, but that doesn’t mean Applebloom doesn’t have to worry,” Sweetie Belle piped up. “Applejack was just as bad as Storm at first, right Applebloom?”

“Shoot, there were times when ah thought fer sure it was all over,” the filly replied. “Still, ah think she’s startin’ t’ realize that Rumble is just the sweetest thing ever. Ain’t that right?”

“Uh huh!”

“Cut it out, you two,” Scootaloo pleaded, pulling a face before grinning widely. “Don’t you have something non-mushy to talk about? At least Pipsqueak’s story had zombies.”

“Shoot, ah’ve got one better than zombies!” Applebloom exclaimed, leaping upright. “Y’all probably ain’t heard about that absolute disaster that was our family dinner. I ain’t seen anythin’ get so crazy in all mah life, an’ ah’ve seen some crazy! It made Granny Smith look like she had all her apples in the basket!”

“Well, tell us already!” Ruby squealed, leaning forward excitedly.

“All right, this happened just yesterday, so if ah cry a little, that’s why,” Applebloom cautioned amidst her laughter, donning a wry grin. “Ever seen a drunken stallion turned mare try an’ get pervy with yer guest of honor? No? Ah didn’t think so! It all started when we had Rumble’s family over fer a little get together...” While perhaps not as riveting as mortal peril and the risk of cannibalization, Applebloom soon had the group weeping tears as they clutched their sides and fought for air.

“Y’all just don’t have a lick o’ sympathy,” Applebloom pouted, looking around at her breathless friends. “It was horrible, y’all! Watchin’ yer gender confused cousin get pervy with another stallion just ain’t mah definition of a good time!”

“That’s what the glue is for!” Ruby squealed, kicking her hooves in the air.

“All right, fine! Ah guess it was pretty funny,” Applebloom conceded, sharing a chuckle with Rumble as she sat down beside him. “Ah don’t think ah’ll ever forget it as long as ah live. Granny comin’ out o’ the closet with Thunderlane an’ Flitter, bein’ asked if... somethin’...”

“You got some cider out of it though, right?” Sweetie Belle chimed in, recovering sooner than Spike who lay snickering on the deck. “That must have been a nice treat. Rarity won’t let me near the cider. She says I’ll make a mess.”

“Oh, ponies do make a mess come mornin’,” Applebloom said solemnly, shooting a wink at Rumble.

“I didn’t mean to!” the hapless colt defended.

“Didn’t mean to... what?” Silver Spoon inquired, wiping a tear from her eye before returning her glasses. Applebloom looked at Rumble, smirked, and then back to the group.

“Let’s just say Rumble can’t hold ‘is liquor an’ leave it at that,” Applebloom chuckled softly, throwing her hooves around her apprentice and holding him close. “So Silver Spoon... you an’ Ruby, huh? Ah’ve got t’ hear how that came about.”

“Oh, it’s simple, actually,” Silver Spoon replied calmly. “We spent an afternoon bathing together, and she simply couldn’t resist me.” Caught completely unawares and in the middle of a deep draft of Silver’s finest rainbow fruit juice, Ruby sprayed her drink from mouth and nostril alike at her friend’s the declaration. Sputtering, the flabbergasted unicorn turned her dripping muzzle and gaping mouth gape towards Silver Spoon, characteristically smug and feigning innocence. “What? I didn’t mind.”

“We didn’t take a bath together!” Ruby half shouted, half cried, wiping a hoof across her moistened snout.

“I never said we did. Why, were you thinking about it?” Silver Spoon retorted with a giggle. “We may have to ask your mo-”

“No! We aren’t bathing!”

“Why not? You’re both fillies,” Spike interjected.

“Yeah, but we’re... she’s... and we’d...” Ruby stammered, no longer requiring a blanket to keep warm.

“You’d... what now?” Applebloom inquired, tilting her head to the side.

“Nothing! We wouldn’t anything because we wouldn’t bathe together!” the flustered pink filly declared with absolute finality.

“Yet,” Silver Spoon slipped in, growing slightly confused as Ruby affirmed her suggestion with an emphatic nod.

“Right, yet, cause- Wait, no! Spoony!”

“Yes, Pinchy?” Silver Spoon replied sweetly, batting her eyelashes. “Is there something you... wished to talk about?” Whirling around in a huff, Ruby turned her back to the aggravating bundle of adorableness behind her and folded her hooves across her chest.

“Sheesh, and I thought we knew how to bicker,” Spike whispered to Sweetie Belle, who immediately brought both hooves to her muzzle to stifle a laugh. “Seriously, they could give lessons.”

“Totally! But look, they sure make up fast,” Sweetie Belle whispered in reply, drawing Spike’s attention back to the two. They were murmuring softly back and forth, and after a few moments, the pink filly slowly leaned in to Silver Spoon’s waiting embrace. Spike threw a claw around Sweetie Belle’s shoulders as she did the same, and soon the two were laughing like nothing had happened, because really, nothing had. That was just the way the two worked. “Ok, so after you two bathed, what next?” Sweetie Belle began again, eager to hear the rest.

“See what you started,” Ruby teased, playfully shoving Silver Spoon a little.

“Now now, it’s not proper for a coltfriend to-”

“I’m not the coltfriend!”

“Oh, but Pinchy...” Silver Spoon said softly, looking back with pleading eyes.

“See what I have to deal with?” Ruby said, throwing up her hooves in mostly mock exasperation. “This was my afternoon. Lots and lots of this.”

“Anypony else think Ruby’s been bitten the hardest by the love bug?” Scootaloo snickered, raising a hoof.

“What? No way,” Applebloom denied, looking back. “Everypony knows it’s you, Scootaloo.”

“Pffff! As if,” the filly defended. “You don’t see me hanging all over Pipsqueak, do you?”

“Yer holdin’ his hoof right now.”

“Am not!” Scootaloo yelped, swiftly pulling away her hoof, shuddering for a moment at the sudden loss of warmth, and then slowly offered it once more to the good captain. “Ok, so I’m holding his hoof. Ruby and Silver Spoon are, like, whispering and stuff.”

“Yer in a dress.”

“So?”

“Ya don’t wear dresses.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Only when ya dance, an’ only after Sweetie Belle begs ya fer half a day an’ buys you a milkshake, cotton candy, a dozen cupcakes, an’-”

“Would you two be quiet?” Sweetie Belle interrupted, pointing back towards Ruby. “I wanna hear the story! Oh, and that’s a really pretty dress, Scootaloo. You should wear them more often.”

“Oh, um... thanks, I guess,” Scootaloo murmured, sitting back down. With no further distractions, Ruby began to tell her tale of how she went from romantically disinterested to head over hooves in a day, but a gentle tap on Scootaloo’s shoulder bid her turn and peer at the colt beside her.

“Scootaloo?” Pipsqueak began in a soft voice. “You know earlier, when we were trotting to the tavern... was there a giant spider on my head?”

“You are so random, Pipsqueak,” the filly laughed, though she stifled her mirth as she noticed that the colt looked a touch anxious. “No, captain, there was no monster munching on your mane today. Why, did you feel something wiggling?”

“No, I didn’t feel anything strange, but on the way over here, well... all of those other ponies looked like they wanted to stomp on me,” he replied, causing Scootaloo to draw closer.

“Ugh... ignore them,” Scootaloo muttered with a groan, pulling a face in disgust. “They’re just jealous that they’re not as awesome as you.”

“...really?” Pipsqueak asked, mystified.

“Well, yeah! I mean, they all wanna by my special somepony after they realized how pretty I can be,” Scootaloo explained, sounding slightly vain. “But... they’re all disqualified, and you wanna know why?” Still perplexed by all the respect Scootaloo had for him, Pipsqueak couldn’t help but smile and nod. “You realized it first.” The colt’s eyes grew wide with wonder at her words, a soft blush taking them both as they beheld one another.

“Pirates... search all over for treasure. They spend weeks, sometimes even months at sea, all for the hopes of finding wealth and riches, but even when they find it, they keep looking for more and more. They keep searching because they haven’t found the perfect treasure.”

“Okay?” Scootaloo murmured, not quite catching the colt’s meaning.

“You said that I noticed first,” Pipsqueak said, fidgeting with his hooves as he took aim on a filly’s heart and lit the fuse. “Well, that’s because pirates have an eye for treasure, and I’ve... found something too beautiful to look away.” Scootaloo simply wasn’t prepared to be blindsided by such romanticism, and her immediate reaction startled everypony else much the same as she tackled Pipsqueak onto the deck and give him a very gracious smooch.

“Uh... yeah, I think they win,” Ruby stated, nonplussed.

“Great Auntie Applesauce... Ah knew that filly was havin’ trouble lettin’ out her girly side, but ah think the dam just broke!” Applebloom declared, shaking her head. “That’s what she gets fer holdin’ back so long, ah suppose.” Thankfully oblivious to the murmurs of her friends, Scootaloo continued along her path right up until the sound of an adult nearby caused the filly to spook.

“Goodness, lad. Let the poor lass breathe!” Leaping back with a yelp and hastily throwing a blanket about her shoulders to hide her wings, Scootaloo made little stammering noises as Gale roared with laughter. “Ye be gettin’ bold, Scootaloo. Ye best be thankin’ yer stars that it was me that came up those steps an’ not yer brother!”

“I-I already am,” Scootaloo muttered, blushing furiously. “Is there something you needed, Gale? We’re kinda, you know... busy.”

“As much as it pains me t’ pull the good captain away from ‘is lover, I must. Pipsqueak? Would ye come with me? We’ve somethin’ important t’ discuss.”

“Uh... sure?” Pipsqueak said, still slightly dizzy as he pulled himself upright. “I’m not in trouble for kissing Scootaloo, am I?”

“Good heavens, lad, ye’d have an earful from me fer refusin’ a bonny lass like Scootaloo somethin’ so simple as a kiss!” Gale exclaimed in mock horror. “Nay, ye did well, but we must be goin’.”

“Wait, Gale!” Scootaloo called out as the two made for the stairs. “He’s coming back, right?”

“Steady, lass. Ye’ll have his hooves again soon enough.” Shooting Scootaloo a wink, Pipsqueak plodded down the stairs with his commodore, sticking close as they waded through the sea of hungry ponies milling about the tavern. They hadn’t even made it to their destination before Pipsqueak bolted ahead, hopping up on the bench across from a green mare that was every bit as pleased to see him as he was her.

“Ahoy, Cloudburn!” Pipsqueak exclaimed, catching himself and his manners as she smiled back. “‘scuse me. How are you tonight, ma’am?”

“Well, he almost got it right,” she chortled as Gale took a seat beside her.

“Aye, he was close,” the stallion agreed, slipping a hoof around his mare and beaming bright while Pipsqueak tried to figure out what exactly he was close to. “Should we win the lad’s favor in this, the final battle, he’ll have plenty o’ time to perfect his greeting.”

“Gale, you’re being confusing,” Pipsqueak stated plainly, though he couldn’t help but be infected by the radiant aura of elation emanating from the couple beaming back. “You both look really happy about something.”

“Lad, what if I told ye that there was one pony with the power to grant these pegasi their deepest wish?”

“That’s simple!” Pipsqueak exclaimed, leaping upright. “I’d say we should go, all three of us, to see this pony right away! Then, we’d do whatever it took to make him grant your wishes! I don’t know what I could do to help, but... I’d try! I’d even give my boots if I had to!”

“Yer boots, ye say?” Gale chuckled, squeezing Cloudburn a little tighter. “Ye answer well, lad. I’m honored that ye would give up somethin’ so precious fer us, but that won’t be necessary.”

“Oh... well, that’s good to hear. I like my boots!” Pipsqueak declared, wriggling around in the tattered fashion disasters. “So, who is this pony? And what’s your wish?”

“He’s like a genie,” Cloudburn whispered, trembling with anticipation. Gale nodded, unable to help but feel nervous as he gazed into lucid brown eyes that burned with the fires of life.

“Aye, and it’s time t’ make our wish,” he said softly, looking upon his student that he hoped would be something much more by the end of the evening. “There’s... somethin’ I’d like t’ ask of ye, Pipsqueak. It ain’t somethin’ small, either, an’ it’s somethin’ only ye can give.”

“Me?” the colt questioned, as awed as he was perplexed. The stallion seated across the way matched the colors of his fearless commodore, but looked nothing like the confident scallywag that had taken him under his damaged wing. It’s... he’s just like me. I’ve never seen Gale anything other than awesome, but right now... I just want to give him a hug. The more the colt looked into the unassuming stallion’s eyes, the more he became convinced that whatever Gale asked, if he could give, he would.

“I don’t know how I can help, but if it will make you happy again, I’ll do my best.”

“I’d...” Gale whispered, choking on the words. Pipsqueak felt his breath catch as the strongest stallion he knew bowed his head and visibly shivered before lifting misty eyes to try once more. “After seein’ ye with Scootaloo, I... think ye’ve realized that there are some treasures no bits can buy.” Cloudburn drew closer, feeling every ounce of her stallion’s fear and longing, for they were hers as well. “Cloudburn is precious t’ me, an’ if it were just me an’ her for the rest o’ our days, then we... we could learn to be content... But there’s one more thing that we both wish for, an’... an’ it’s somethin’ special. A... a royal treasure.”

“You want something of Luna’s?” Pipsqueak asked in innocence, not having any idea how true his words really were. “If I didn’t know any better, commodore, I’d say ye were frightened... commodore?” There was a moment or two of tense silence before Gale simply nodded, lifting his eyes to those of a colt dear to his heart. “You... you are?”

“Aye, just a wee bit, Pipsqueak,” the stallion conceded without a fight, catching the colt off guard. “Pipsqueak, I ask ye not as yer commodore, but a stallion who’s found something that cannot be taken, only given. I’d... I’d like ye... would...”

“Gale?” On the verge of tears, the stallion lifted his gaze once more to find Pipsqueak had moved from his seat to stand beside the commodore’s bench. Rearing on his hind legs and planting his front hooves on the bench to keep his balance, the colt leaned as close as he could manage and peered up at a pony for whom he’d gladly face his fears, if only to bring a smile back. “You’ve already taught me a lot, and I don’t think I’d have been able to face my fears if you hadn’t noticed me. There’s still a lot I need to know, but... I’d like to help you, too.” Sliding from the bench and nearly collapsing beside the colt, Gale stretched out his hooves and held him close as the first tears began to roll, and it wasn’t until little hooves hugged back that he found the strength to ask.

“Would ye... let me call you me son?” Nearly into his teens, Pipsqueak had given up on ever hearing those words, but with a single question the longing for a home swept over the colt from head to hoof. Trembling as his heart threatened to break through his chest, Pipsqueak couldn’t dam the fluent joy that sprang to his eyes as a family, his family, was joined together for the first time.

“I’ll... I’ll be your son if you... wouldn’t mind if I called you father?”

“Oh, lad... whenever ye wish.” Where there is a father, so also should there be a mother. Joining her stallion in shedding tears of jubilation, Cloudburn wrapped them both in her hooves, spreading her wings around her family as if to ward away any and every worry and care. Fate had dealt them both a horrid hand of cards, but whether by fortune or sleight of hoof, they held in their hooves a treasure blessed by a princess, and nothing would ever take that away, least of all the dark figure who watched from across the way.

Any trepidation that had troubled the bystander’s heart at letting go was washed away by the sight of two ponies enjoying a treasure she hadn’t really lost, but simply shared. Unwilling to be left out, Luna swept across the room amidst gasps of shock and enfolded the family within her wings, shrouding them from the stares and whispers of ponies who couldn’t know the beauty of what they were witness to.

I had feared I would not be able to let go, but it seems... my dear sister was right yet again. There is nothing but peace within my heart: peace, and joy for these, my dear friends. “This makes twice thou hast moved me to tears, Gale,” Luna whispered, laughing quietly along with the stallion. “Should you make a habit of this, I may yet have need of those leeches.”

“Ach, they’re not so bad after a little smooth talkin’,” he said softly, lifting his gaze as the alicorns massive wings receded.

“Miss Luna?” Pipsqueak piped up, wiping his snout on the back of a hoof.

“What is it, my dear colt?” Luna said softly, dipping her muzzle down so she could meet the colt at his level.

“Now that I have a mother, you’re... not gonna stop coming to visit, are you?” he asked, looking up with pleading eyes. “Please don’t stop coming. You’re still my favorite princess.” It was the comforted who sheltered the comforter as Luna swept the colt into her hooves and wept openly. It wasn’t much, but tattered wings spread around that princess of the night as she too found the desires of her heart granted by a kind and caring colt.

“Gale, you heartbreaker,” a voice piped up from behind, causing the stallion a wearied grin. “Making the princess cry? You cad.”

“Storm, not now... can’t ye see we’re busy weepin’ like babes?” Gale said with a light shake of his head.

“May I ask what’s the occasion?”

“With Luna’s blessing, I’ve found a son.” Sarcasm and all that remained of trite jibes disappeared as Storm’s eyes grew wide. More than any of Gale’s other friends, he knew just how deeply the wounded stallion before him wished to be a father, and he wasn’t about to ruin the moment with further jokes.

“Gale, that’s... that’s awesome,” Storm said softly, placing a hoof on the stallion’s back. “So... when do I get to meet your kid?” Taken aback as Gale roared with laughter, much to Luna and Cloudburn’s confusion, the stallion shook his head and grinned with fiendish glee at the question.

“Luna, if ye please, allow me son t’ say hello.”

“If I must,” she said with a smile, sniffling as she gave the colt one last squeeze before allowing him to stand. Storm stared blankly at Pipsqueak as he trotted over and took his place beside Gale.

“You don’t mean...”

“I’ve believe ye’ve met Pipsqueak, aye?”

“You do mean.”

“Oh, aye!”

“No, this is not ok!”

“Watch it, Storm!” Cloudburn snapped back, instantly defensive. “I’m not about to let anypony get between us!”

“I’m not worried about Pipsqueak, I’m worried about Scootaloo!” Storm yelled back, growing frantic. “Cloudburn, you remember how it was back in Cloudspire, right? If it weren’t for the fact that Gale was denser than your average brick when it came to mares, they’d have been all over him! Scootaloo is already head over hooves for Pipsqueak, but with Gale as his father, it... he’ll...” Cloudburn simply grinned at the stallion as he sank to a sitting position. “...it’s over.”

“Don’t worry, lad,” Gale quipped, giving the stallion a well-natured shove. “He’s an honourable young colt. I’ll make sure he treats yer sister right.”

“I bet they’ve already kissed!” Storm wailed dramatically, his features falling further as his facetious statement was confirmed with a grin. “...they have, haven’t they?”

“Aye, twas a thing o’ beauty,” Gale confirmed with a chuckle before turning towards his respectfully silent son. “Pipsqueak? Yer friends are waitin’ for ye, as is yerr lass,” Gale reminded the nonplussed colt. “Go an’ have fun, lad. I’ll take care o’ this one,” he concluded, giving Storm a hearty pat on the back.

“Ok, um... father?” Pipsqueak responded hesitantly. “Father’s ok, right? Or should I say commodore?”

“Father is fine, son.”

“This is great. I’ve got a father, and a mother, and... and a princess!” the colt exclaimed, rearing in his excitement. “Luna, would you like to come meet my friends? We’re telling stories!”

“I would be delighted to join!” she replied eagerly, grateful for her inclusion. She stood and followed Pipsqueak a few steps before coming to an abrupt halt and peering over her shoulder with a wink. “Oh, and Storm? I do hope I won’t hear any tales of you disturbing my favorite colt from his pursuit of happiness. I would find such news most vexing.”

“Ye don’t want t’ tangle with that one, lad,” Gale said sagely. “The Canterlot dungeon ain’t the most accommodating place t’ lay yer head.”

“Gale, can I ask you something?” Storm calmly replied after a few moments of silence.

“Aye?”

“Can I trust Pipsqueak?” Taking a moment to accepted yet another jubilant embrace from his faithful fillyfriend, Gale turned his attention once more to his lifelong friend as he stood. “Scootaloo is really taken by him. She’s been energetic, emotional, and even more worrisome, girly, and it all started with Pipsqueak. Aside from being a few straws short of a hay bale, he hasn’t given me any reason to doubt his character, but... I guess I’d just like to hear it from you.”

“Storm, I know Scootaloo means the world to ye, but I think ye already know he’s harmless.” Storm hung his head and laughed lightly, nodding. “Give the lad some time. An’ talk t’ yer mother!” Gale chided, throwing his hoof in the air for effect. “The lass knows her stuff. If anythin’, the fact that she’s not worried should be more comfortin’ than anything this stallion could offer ye.”

“You’re right, of course,” Storm conceded without misgivings. “I’m happy for you, Gale. I know that you’ll raise a fine colt, both you and Cloudburn. I guess... I should count my little sis lucky.”

“Wahaha~!” The murmur of the tavern quieted the wake of such a triumphant shout, and Storm barely had time to step aside as a white unicorn with stylish lavender mane raced passed him with a picture held aloft. While Rarity held herself to a certain standard of refinement, her natural exuberance often left her manners by the wayside in the face of something that caught her fancy.

Oh, this is simply too wonderful! I’ll have to make sure and thank Twilight again for capturing Sweetie Belle’s special moment on film! Pausing at the base of the stairs, she gazed starry eyed at the scene in the picture, feeling her heart melt all over again. Oh, Sweetie Belle... what could possibly be more wonderful than this? Well, I suppose it would be even more exciting should I be recieving a kiss myself, but this is no time to be selfish!

“Sweetie Belle! I-” Rarity began, making it only two stairs up before hastily retreating and standing to the side as a groaning bundle of orange feathers came to a rest at the base of the stairs. “Goodness, are you alright? You aren’t hurt, are you?”

“Just my pride,” Freefall moaned, sitting upright. “...and my face, and wings, and flanks, and... whoa,” he paused, actually taking a look. “You’re, um... really... kinda...” A jingle sounded behind him, snapping the stallion back to reality. “Not my fillyfriend! Yeah, that!”

“No, that is quite correct,” Rarity agreed, lifting her gaze to the quiet mare standing behind him. “Good evening, Bangles. Are you well?”

“I am, thank you,” she replied, flashing the mare a brief smile before stooping down beside Freefall. “Come on, let’s get you to a bench.” Watching the two go, Rarity couldn’t help but wonder how that stallion, who she’d heard was rumored to have knocked himself senseless on multiple occasions out of sheer nervousness in dealing with the opposite gender, could have a significant other when she, a lady of refinement and generosity, was hardly noticed among the ponies in Ponyville.

Well, none of the suitable ones, anyways... Right, Sweetie Belle! Rushing up the stairs and spotting her sister so adorably snuggled next to Spike, Rarity dismissed her manners despite the presence of royalty and all but tackled her sister.

“What the... Rarity, what gives?” Sweetie Belle squealed, barely able to breathe as her sister squeezed her tight.

“What gives? Why, this, of course!” she declared, holding the picture up for her to see.

“Hey this is...” Sweetie Belle began, her jaw dropping as she beheld her very own flushed cheeks, captured forever within a photo.

“Oooh, Sweetie Belle, I’m so jealous of you!” Rarity swooned, snatching the picture away and showing it to Spike. He looked at it a moment, glanced over at Sweetie Belle, and then back at Rarity with a smug grin. “This is the most magnificent gesture I’ve ever- Luna!” Rarity gasped, offering a quick bow, “how rude of me!”

“Worry not, Ra-” Luna began, hard pressed to keep from laughing as she was cut off.

“I cannot believe my manners!” Rarity interjected, throwing a hoof over her eyes. “After all, you should have been the first to see!” Luna grinned as the full grown mare skipped like a filly and eagerly held the photo aloft, chatting all the while. Shrugging as all eyes turned to her, Sweetie Belle turned to Spike who looked far too pleased with himself, and was currently giving Rumble a high hoof.

“Spike?” Sweetie Belle said sweetly, offering a smile as he turned towards her.

“Yeah?”

“You didn’t tell me that Twilight took a picture of us!” the filly exclaimed, slightly put off that she hadn’t been alerted.

“You didn’t ask,” he defended, folding his arms across his chest. “Besides, it was her fee for moving the piano. It seemed harmless enough...”

“Harmless? My sister’s gone crazy!” Sweetie Belle retorted, pointing at her giggly sibling. So far gone was Rarity that she paid the comment not the slightest heed, continuing to educate Luna on all the reasons why her little sister’s kiss was absolutely perfect.

“Really, I had no idea Spike was such a romantic! It must have been terribly hard to get a song written in such short time, but I daresay it worked like a charm! And just look at the lighting!” she continued, “it’s absolutely spectacular! Such vivid hues of vermillion and fuschia... it’s so beautiful that I-” Interrupting herself with a massive gasp, Rarity stared vacantly into the distance with Tom eyes before rending the night with a piercing squeal.

“Idea~! Oh, I could make a whole new line with this! I’ve not a moment to lose!” Zipping out of sight, the photograph slowly fluttered towards the ground, only to be shrouded in a light blue aura just before it touched down. “Oh, right!” Rarity called out, poking her head up from the stairs. “I just wished to give you my sincerest congratulations. Colts like Spike are far too few, so make sure that you treat him well.” Eager to bring her vision to life before the inspiration was lost, Rarity had just made it out of the tavern when a perky pony called out after her, threatening the immediate cessation of any and all hopes of progress.

“Rarity? Where’re you going?” Pinkie asked, cantering over with a look of abject confusion. “All of our friends are inside. Don’t you wanna stick around?”

“As divine as a mug or two of Silver’s cider sound right now, I’m afraid I’ve something urgent to attend to back at the boutique,” Rarity explained, unable to stow her excitement. “You see, I was admiring the colors in this photograph.” Pinkie Pie looked intently at the picture and grinned.

“Awww, that’s adorable!” she chortled, giving a little hop. “It looks like my super duper gem cake really did the trick! They look so cute, all snuggled up close... tasting each other.”

“Yes, er... that’s one way of looking at it, I suppose,” Rarity mused, unable to keep from herself from smiling at her friend’s somewhat skewed interpretation of love. “Anyways, I couldn’t help but notice the gorgeous colors lighting the sky, and a simply ravishing dress design came to me. I would love to stay and drink, but I really must be going.”

“Okie dokie loki!” With the party mare’s blessing and the fires of creativity burning bright, Rarity adopted a quick trot and slipped into her boutique. After flipping on the lights and allowing her eyes to adjust, she went right to it, sketching out draft after draft of possible designs juxtaposed to lengths of ribbons arrayed in all the splendid colors of the setting sun. From pale lavender to vivid magenta, vermillion, crimson, and gold, Rarity felt the joy of dressmaking welling within her chest. Shuffling the papers, she continued to compare, edit, and blend until a sudden knock upon her door caused her to blink.

Now who in Equestria would be coming by so late? Wait, no, don’t tell me... “...the door is open, Pinkie.”

“Wheee~! Wow, Rarity, how’d you know it was me?” Pinkie squealed, giving the door a hearty shove and traipsing in with a serving dish balanced upon her buoyant mane.

“Call it a hunch,” she replied, growing curious. “What’ve you got there?”

“Well, you said that you wanted some tasty cider, but you also wanted to make dresses! Since you can’t be two places at once, and it’d be kinda difficult to make dresses at the tavern, I thought I’d bring you a little something to wet your whistle!” Pinkie explained, bowing her head and offering Rarity a mug.

“Oh! That’s... very sweet of you, Pinkie,” Rarity said slowly, wrapping one of the two mugs in her aura and bringing it to her lips. Despite Pinkie’s transit, it still tasted like it was cool from the tap, and Rarity took a deep draft, relishing the sweet taste as it trickled down her throat. She was about to go for another when she noticed she was being watched, and it gave her pause.

You’re a confusing mare, Pinkie, but you’re really quite caring. A little eccentric, perhaps, but that can easily be overlooked.“Thank you very much for bringing me a drink, Pinkie. It really was quite refreshing,” Rarity said with a smile. “I know that it’s not the most enthralling pass time for one as vivacious as yourself, but-”

“Vivawhat?”

“Vivacious. Animated? Highly energetic?”

“Ooooh...” Pinkie murmured, adopting a studious look. “See, I thought it meant ‘live delicious’ in Mexicoltian, and I was gonna be like ‘well, DUH, Rarity! I always live delicious!’ Arrriba~!” Rarity let a hoof cover her face for a moment as the mare whooped and giggled, but it was more to cover a smile that didn’t need to be hidden.

“While I have no piñata, what I was going to say is that if you’d like to stay while I work, I certainly wouldn’t refuse the company.” Perhaps the mare was simply maturing, or she wasn’t feeling quite herself, but either way, Rarity was surprised at the tame response to her invitation. Pinkie didn’t answer at first, but rather looked down at her cup, paused, and then took a small sip.

“I’d... like to stay,” she said softly, offering a timid smile. “I’ll do my very best not to get in your way, okay?”

“You know,” Rarity began, setting down her nearly empty mug, “my biggest concern was getting the designs from my head and onto paper before they left. I’ve managed that, and I even have the colors all picked out, so how about we do something else, just the two of us?”

“Omigosh, can we really?” Pinkie squealed, springing to life.

Ah, there it is. That’s our Pinkie. “Why, certainly! We are friends, you and I. You know... I’ve been dying to see what I can do with your mane... would you let me try my hoof at it?”

“You can try me with all four hooves if you want!”

“Eh, that won’t be necessary.”

“Oh well! Can’t say I didn’t ask,” Pinkie snickered, hopping circles around the fashionista. “I’ve gotta warn you though, the last time I tried brushing my mane, I lost my brush. Oh, and if you feel a pinch, that’s probably Gummy. He likes to hide in there a lot.”

“Well, if he should rear his head, then he’ll be fabulized as well.”

“Fabuwhat? Rarity, you’re talking like me!”

“Oh, am I? I hadn’t noticed,” Rarity said dismissively. Good heavens, she’s right! Not that it is necessarily a bad thing, but... gracious, I hadn’t realized. Oh well, first things first! There will be time to contemplate my vocabulary later! Leading Pinkie Pie back into a lavish washroom complete with jacuzzi tub, walk-in changing room, and an opulent mirror, Rarity sat Pinkie down and took just one more moment to appreciate her friend’s ever present radiance before getting on her game face. “Now then, prepare yourself, frizzy mane! It... is... on!”

Back upon the roof of the tavern, the ponies had continued to pay tribute to their princess with song, dance, and story. Luna treasured her time there, a momentary reprieve from the nightly grind of castle life, but as dearly as she wished she could stay, her responsibilities as a princess took precedence. Telling herself “just a few more minutes” provided another hour of entertainment, but as she marked the position of the moon, now high in the sky, she reluctantly prepared for her departure and stood.

“It seems that all of my little friends have excitable siblings,” Luna mused, looking around at the host of young ponies with a smile. “I’m afraid I must be going, but do continue sharing in one another’s friendship. May the stars shine brightly upon all of you this night. And you, my little prince,” Luna paused, pulling Pipsqueak into a warm embrace, “behave thyself. I will see you again soon.”

“On my honor, I’ll make you proud!” Pipsqueak affirmed, watching as the princess melted into the night. There was one more story to tell, and the group quieted as Sweetie Belle and Spike each told their tale in parts. With every added stop and each failed effort, from Lyra’s house to Octavia’s overzealous spirit of competition, Sweetie Belle felt her appreciation for the music that still rang in her ears and heart grow ever deeper. It soon came time for her to speak, though most of her friends already knew her side of things. From telling her friends of their plans to gather at the tavern to searching herself for words that needed to be said, her afternoon had stretched on for what seemed like an eternity, but every painful second was validated within moments of her reunion with the one holding her hoof.

“I really couldn’t believe what I was hearing when he started to play,” Sweetie Belle said softly, stealing a smitten glance at the blushing dragon beside her. “It was like... he’d put what I couldn’t say with words into music, and then all at once, I just... couldn’t help but sing.”

“Shoot, that’s about the most romantic thing ah’ve ever heard of that doesn’t involve glue!” Applebloom cheered, looking confused as the circle erupted into laughter. “What’s the matter with y’all? Spike deserves some kind o’ award after goin’ through all that, right?”

“Uh huh!” her supportive echo replied. “Hey, you should totally sing it for us!”

“Yeah! Come on, Sweetie Belle!” Scootaloo seconded, leaping upright. “I’ll even dance. Please?”

“Sure, I’ll sing it! But, um... Spike, do you think you could-”

“Already on it!” he called out, rushing downstairs and out of sight.

“Shucks, ah guess ah better pitch in too,” Applebloom chuckled. “Rarity would have a fit if y’all gave a performance lookin’ like that.”

“What? I’m in a dress!” Scootaloo replied with mild annoyance. “What’s it take to please you, huh?”

“Yer mane’s outta order, yer dress is all wrinkled, an’ both of you have grass in yer hair. Now, come on, let’s get you tidied up. Rumble, would ya like to help?” It was a silly question, and the colt eagerly lent his hoof helping Applebloom with her living beautification project. Manes were cleaned and straightened, a dress hastily de-wrinkled, and with a lavender flash, an ebony beast landed in the center of the roof. Gathering together, everypony took their seats in eager anticipation of the moving melody that was to come. Scootaloo stood beside Sweetie Belle while Spike took his place on the pianist’s stool, and after receiving nods from both, the diva addressed her cherished crowd.

“I think we can all agree that this has been one crazy week,” Sweetie Belle started, looking each of her friends in the eyes. “From zombies, to glue, to disgusting fridges, we’ve all had our share of adventures, and I know I’m not alone when I say that relationships are a lot of work. But... as we move forward as couples, and as friends, let’s not forget the bonds already forged as we try and build new ones. Each and every one of you are... lovely to me.”

They sang until their throats ran dry, danced until they could hardly lift their hooves, and then danced some more. Laughter became a greater chorus than the crickets as they teased, pried, laughed and cried tears of mirth, lifting their sweet melody of friendship to the heavens. As the end of their time drew nigh, a hoarse dragon coughed a little to clear his throat, dispelling the silence as the group lay back, watching the stars.

“Hey, everypony? I was just thinkin’... with how crazy this week ended up, doesn’t it make you wonder what next week is gonna be like?” Friend looked to friend, but it was a straightforward farm filly that summed things up for everypony.

“Sure, things got a touch outta hoof here an’ there,” Applebloom began, snuggling up closer to Rumble as she smiled. “Even still, ah had a lot of fun. Sharin’ a night with everypony here tonight is one o’ mah best memories, an’ if it takes a little crazy t’ make another... well, ah don’t know about the rest of y’all, but ah can hardly wait.” With a unanimous cheer from spent voices, it was declared to be official: the past week had been the greatest week of their lives, and it was just waiting to be topped by the next. Gathering together for one last hurrah before they said their farewells, seven hooves and one claw came together in friendship.

“Cutie Mark Crusaders: Couples! Yay!”

Of Royalty, Ballads, and Nightmares

Chapter 16: Of Royalty, Ballads, and Nightmares

If there was any indicator to Celestia that her dearest sister upset, it would have to be sullen glare with which she were eyeing the syrup oozing around around her pancakes. Breakfast, equivocal to dinner for a mare who spent her nights in contemplation, study, and the occasional prank on the castle staff to break up the monotony of reading through a “revised” account of the last thousand years, was normally a time of great joy for the mare, but the fear of her wrathful descent into old Canterlotese kept even the most loyal servers at a distance; the aura of displeasure was palpable. Regal gaiety was exchanged for a worried frown as Luna poured some syrup over her pancakes, stared at them for a full minute in abject silence, and then poured some more on the already soggy, overflowing stack, as if taken by a bizarre compulsive twitch. Celestia waved away those still present in the room as Luna’s expression shifted from dire to an utter lack of comprehension, herself entirely confused by coming back to the gooey reality of syrup running off the table and onto her lap.

“It would seem something has your attention quite taken, Luna,” Celestia began, hoping her tone was gentle enough to spare her ears. Fortunately, the sticky sweetness currently clinging to her chest fur was enough of a deterrent from her consternation that the mare simply responded with a sigh, shoving the ruined plate from herself before letting her head fall to the table with a squishy thud, her crown rolling the length of the table before dropping to the stonework floor with a reverberating clang. “Sister, this is most unusual for you. What has transpired that would tarnish your love for a morning meal? Discord didn’t step out of line, did he?”

“No, my condition hath nothing to do with that jester,” Luna mumbled, looking up at Celestia’s sympathetic gaze with a sigh. “Somepony has... asked for permission to adopt Pipsqueak.”

“That dear little colt who fancies himself a pirate? Why, this is wonderful news!” Celestia exclaimed, clapping her hooves and beaming widely. “After hearing you speak so highly of him on many an occasion, this is truly a cause for celebration!” Luna slowly lifted her head, narrowed her eyes in a royal glare, and silently let her face do all the communication that was necessary. Celestia noted the darkest of scowls with which she was being chastised and was about to make apology when a single drop of syrup dribbled down to her sister’s chin, slowly stretching before falling to the table with an audible plop.

“How you ruled by thyself for a thousand years, and even more so that you continue to hold office, is a mystery for which I cannot fathom an answer,” Luna muttered, averting her eyes as Celestia had a fit of snickers most vexing.

“Come now, Luna, do be patient,” Celestia urged, stifling her laughter and reverting to her usual tone as Luna stood to leave. “I do not wish to see my sister off to bed in a huff. Please, Luna, tell me your worries; they are mine as well.”

“I suppose I can lay aside my indignation for such callous behavior...” Sitting with a sigh, Luna sniffed a little, got a snout full of syrup, sprayed the table with a most unregal sneeze, and sniffed again. “If I may speak quite plainly, I do not wish for Pipsqueak to be adopted.” Mirth was set aside as Celestia grew somber, ready to hear whatever it was that was troubling her sister. “For the time that I am with him, I can almost pretend that... he is my own. To him, I am not some lofty, unapproachable princess on par with a fabled deity, but simply a friend with whom he may speak freely, and I to him as well. I... do not wish to lose this, sister.”

“I am surprised that you hold Pipsqueak in such low regard,” Celestia said, noting with agreement the flash of anger that lit the mare’s eyes.

“What is this nonsense you speak?” Luna barked, not quite loud enough to be quantified a shout but definitely enough to convey her displeasure with such a callous remark as she leapt from her seat and marched around the table to wear Celestia sat calmly, bearing her reproach with patience. “Pipsqueak is, without contest, the most laudable colt I have met in times before and present! You would dare speak ill of my kinship with him?”

“Do you believe he shares in your bond?” Celestia offered, her tone neither assuming nor pointed.

“I would stake my life on it,” Luna snapped back, challenging Celestia where there was no need.

“If you speak truly, then there is nothing to fear.” Somewhat startled by her words, Luna’s expression softened just enough to show she was listening as she extended the benefit of the doubt to her elder sibling.

“Explain thyself. My patience wears thin.” Rising slowly, Celestia forsook her currently flawless white coat and drew Luna into a snug, sticky embrace.

“It would seem to me, Luna, that you fear being forgotten by one you hold dear to your heart.” It was subtle, but Celestia knew she’d hit her mark as once tense shoulders slumped in sullen acceptance of having to hear what she didn’t wish to speak. “I have watched the two of you, Luna. Being part of a family will not diminish that colt’s love for you in the slightest.”

“Art... thou certain?”

“There is no doubt within my heart, dear sister,” Celestia affirmed in complete confidence, a smile slowly growing as her embrace was returned. “If you may recall, I was not cast aside when Twilight Sparkle was wed. If anything, my archives of her discoveries merely grew at a much faster rate.” Where once laughter was cause for wrath, Celestia’s recollection and subsequent reminisce brought comfort to Luna. “Oh, and do make sure that the family that wishes to provide a home for your disciple is of character, would you?”

“Like you even need to remind me of such obvious matters?” Luna replied in mock indignation. “You act, Celestia, as if I haven’t already begun to set up the proving grounds.”

“I do hope it’s nothing too worrisome?” Celestia giggled, donning a mischievous smile mirrored by her sister.

“Oh, not to worry,” Luna chortled, idly brushing some of the sweetness from her coat and bringing her hoof to her lips. “The infirmary has already been alerted to be quite prepared come this afternoon, and it’s been quite some time since the dungeon has been used. I’m sure any half-truths and other such nonsense will be hastily rectified.” Her explanation was so matter-of-fact that Celestia had to take a moment or two to process the statement before royal obligation and the public eye bid her make inquiry on whatever ill-fated couple had dare extend a helping hoof to a colt most sacred.

“Are you serious? Because I cannot tell at the moment.”

“Nay, sister, tis a joke!” Luna quipped, laughing at her own cleverness. “I must say, this sarcasm thing of which so many ponies seem to enjoy can be immensely fun. However, I digress. I am in need of a bath, so I’ll bid you good morning.”

“Sleep well, little sister. I shall see you this afternoon.” Luna nodded and cantered off towards the banquet hall doors, though as she flung them open and gave the attendees the informed them that they need not fear for their lives, she counteracted the statement as she again struck a tone that led Celestia to wonder just how much truth was laced within her jesting.

“Thank you again for your kindness, sister. Oh, and before I forget to ask, might you know where I may find some leeches? I seem to recall they have a most peculiar ability to deter lies from even the most heinous of ponies, and I simply cannot abide the thought of a proper interrogation without them!”

“Uh... no, Luna, we do not keep leeches here at the castle.”

“What a pity...” Luna pouted, conjuring frightful looks from those nearby before whipping her head up and cantering away, her cheery tones slowly fading out of Celestia’s earshot as she made for her room. “Oh well! I may yet find some other parasite that will suffice... You there! Tell me, do you know where I may purchase mosquitos in bulk? No? Well, thou art of little help...”

It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling for Sweetie Belle to wake up wondering why her eyelids had been replaced with ten-inch thick steel doors with no lever, button, or magic to lift their gargantuan weight. After an evening spent pondering her beloved’s disappearance and a night restlessly tossing about, unable to evade thinking about the same, the filly felt little desire to fight her body’s fatigue at first, but as she offered her silent abode a feeble groan in protest to the results of a sleepless night, a longing began to well within her chest, slowly muscling its way through the crowds of scattered thought attempting to form a whole but too busy admiring their fractured form to bother finding a partner.

At first, her worry over Spike’s rather abrupt and unprecedented exit had manifested itself as frustration, leading her to do the unthinkable and try her parent’s intelligence with meaningful, heartfelt anxiety wrapped in a pita of freshly tossed ranting, but this proved to be expecting too much, as they were unable to even get past the bread barrier, so to speak. It wasn’t that they weren’t learned in many valuable life lessons or that they didn’t wish to help Sweetie Belle, but that they had a tendency to be easily distracted, pursuing whatever thought each sentence seemed to spark regardless of whether it had any relevance to the topic at hoof - fear that she’d somehow done something to jeopardize her relationship with Spike, namely.

The resulting depression led to moping, which led to whining and further sullen vocalization, but as much as the filly seemed to be fearless when it came to exercising her sway over her coltfriend, she couldn’t bring herself to talk to him. How could she? Even though she hadn’t the slightest idea what had caused Spike to walk away, she just somehow knew that something was off, and while the thought of being yelled at made her cringe, the knowledge that she had hurt him was even worse. Tears were shed upon her pillow the previous evening, a suppressed song she didn’t wish for anypony to hear, but on that morning, as her determination was dragged nervous and quaking to the stage before a host of possibilities and doubt, her heart stood right beside her resolute desire to fix whatever she’d broken. Softly, she began to sing.

What have I done?

What should I do?

Scattered thoughts, here and there,

they’re all wrapped around you

If I reach out my hoof,

will it only be to rend

a gentle heart, wrapped in scales?

No, I’ll make amends~

Somehow~

“Somehow...” Peeling back the blankets, she cantered wearily over to the shower, switching on the flow of water and stepping in. As water coursed over her coat and through her mane, she cracked open her eyes as a gentle nudge within whispered a few words of comfort to a shaky start, and a smile ever so brief flashed across her muzzle before she continued her morning routine, but with song.

Why do I love you, Spike?

I’d like to tell why I adore

every belch and every blunder

that’d put a colt six feet under

leaves me breathless, wanting more~

It’s ok that you’re no scholar

a sweeter dunce I’ll never find~

my big words confound you,

at times the small ones barely get through

but I mean it when I say that I don’t mind~

I know you’d cross the deepest valley,

climb to the the highest peak;

hay, you ate my cooking!

and even though you started puking

I’d still hold you if of bile you reeked~

“Hehe, he really did smell...” the filly chuckled to herself, shaking her head as the fond memory brought with it a warmth not gleaned from the the moisture that drenched her head to hoof. With her hooves tapping to the rhythm in her soul, Sweetie Belle switched off the water and toweled off, humming to herself as words sprang to her mind of their own accord. It wasn’t uncommon for the Nightingale of Ponyville to play the lark, so her mother and father weren’t surprised that the sound of singing reached them before their daughter.

Short and cute and covered in scales,

from the top of your head to the tip of your tail,

like the gleaming mail of a dashing knight

to sweep me off my hooves

and hold me through the night~

It’s a little silly, but I love your ego

it fills me with pride as you put on a show

talking fast, acting rash,

marching to your own drum

inside that hide I know I’ll find a heart-

softer than gum!

Leaping the last few steps and twirling once, Sweetie Belle paused as a thought most curious struck her unawares. “Huh, I wonder what dragon flavored gum would taste like?” she mused allowed, seemingly garnering her parents’ interest as all three of them adopted looks of serious contemplation before the filly shrugged and continued her song while her parents attempted to figure out why Sweetie Belle was even thinking about such a thing. “Oh well! I’ll find out someday. Until then...” Stepping in time with her dulcet sonnet of blunder wonder, the filly shifted tempo and continued to sing.

Though sometimes he seems dauntless,

know for sure he’s not faultless;

I haven’t lost my mind,

no, this love is far from blind!

some would say I’m obsessed,

but know this!

I’m not one to make a list,

but for your pleasures, I insist!

Peace of mind, I think you’ll find,

isn’t so far away~

You’ve farted fire and scorched my mane,

watched sexy fillies entertain

when I’m standing right there? where’s your brain?

do you want me to take up the cane?

beat the sh- what’s that stain?

“No, really, what is this?” Sweetie Belle paused, staring with confusion at the tablecloth wondering what her mother could possibly mistaken as palatable that would stain the fabric such a disgruntling shade of blue. “Mom, I think you should take some lessons or something from Applejack. Shoot, what I was I singing about? I lost my train of thought...” While Magnum and Garden Wishes both exchanged looks of utter lack of comprehension, Sweetie Belle thoughtfully munched on an apple waiting for the lyrics to brew, but quickly lost patience with having a melody bursting from within and not doing anything with it, so she just took the tangent and ran with it after downing the rest of her light meal.

It seems I’ve lost my train

So clearly, I must be a little insane!

Well, that’s ok! Let chaos reign!

We’ll blame Discord for the stain!

And Spike and I will-

“Spike! Geez, how could I forget?” the filly interjected, shaking her head sadly. “I wonder how I got so scatterbrained. Is it just because I’m stressed? Or hungry? Or being driven mad by all the stuff swirling around in my head like green slop in a great big cauldron stirred with a barbed wire fork covered in glitter and toffee? Hmmm...”

“Sweetie Belle, that was some fancy word sayin’ right there,” Magnum encouraged, not having understood a word of the rapid-fire rhyming.

“We’re so proud of you! But, could you possibly... sing it again? I didn’t quite understand... any of it,” Garden Wishes seconded, prompting an immediate implied facehoof and a sigh. While Spike was still on the forefront of her mind, the filly couldn’t help but diverging down the rabbit trail as it was presented.

Thank you mother, thank you father,

one question of many has been answered

I no longer need to wonder why

my head sometimes gets filled with sky

I could find a mirror so you’d see~

what it is you’ve done to me!

Straw hats are for working types-

ponies who fix houses, gates, and pipes

not a sports-loving couch potatoe

who favor a few balls over a hoe-

Oh, and mom? You wear jeans!

thanks for the loony genes-

my sis and I have those in spades

my tongue spouts nonsense parades!

I guess this is just who I’ll have to be~

so thank you, Spike, for loving me~

Now please excuse me, parents mine,

This song grows long, so I shall depart

so long, and thanks for this;

the intelligence of a fish.

All this singing made me have to pee~

On that note, Spike, please wait for me~

Making good on her word, Sweetie Belle excused herself to use the little filly’s room amidst much humming, leaving her parents to try and decipher such lofty, eloquent, and unfairly cryptic messages.

“I’ll tell you what, Wishes; that little girl of ours sure can sing,” Magnum asserted, beaming with pride and still coming up short in the understanding department. “She’s every bit as sweet as her name, too! Payin’ me such compliments, tellin’ me I’m as smart as a fish... They’re cunning little critters, doncha know. I’ve tried catchin’ ‘em, and they're pretty dang sharp. Dodged my hoof every time.”

“I know! It’s strange that she didn’t thank you for her singing, though,” Garden Wishes mused, continuing to wipe down the dishes. “She certainly didn’t get any of that from my side of the family.”

“Get any of what?” Sweetie Belle asked, trotting out into the kitchen.

“Go on, Magnum, show her that your voice isn’t just for shoutin’ at the games!” Wishes encouraged, stopping her work and giving her hubby a pleading smile.

“Oh, all right. Just a little somethin’ somethin’, I guess,” Magnum chuckled, adjusting his straw hat and sliding out onto his hooves. Without warning or any kind of precedent, Sweetie Belle was shown a side of her father she’d never known, and it made her wonder if her mother were secretly involved in some kind of rogue necromancy cult attempting to resurrect vampiric jelly beans, because hearing her father drop into professional sounding opera-style singing that shook the windows without the slightest provocation struck her as every bit as ridiculous. The showcase of unused potential was short, and while Sweetie Belle glanced down at the ground where the shattered image of her parental perceptions lay fragmented, Magnum gave a hearty laugh as he gave the shell shocked filly a pat on the back.

“Don’t let your talents go to waste, Sweetie Belle. While there’s nothing I love more than a good game, save my family, I don’t want you to end up regretting what could have been like I do.” A healthy injection of perspective gave Sweetie Belle a newfound appreciation for her parent’s seemingly overbearing ways in regard to her singing, and made her feel downright awful they’d caught the sour end of Rarity for it, so agreeing was the least she could do.

“Don’t worry, dad,” she murmured, giving her father a much-deserved embrace. “I won’t stop singing, even when it’s hard.” Backed by her parents’ love, the filly stepped outside with her mind set and her heart pounding out the percussion to the melody coursing within. While she continued to sing, many a pony inclined their ear to the beauteous acapella filling the streets, but the only audience she desired was that of her special somepony, and she held the last note as she neared the door to the library, whereupon a familiar foal voice piped up from the other side.

“Mommy, Sweebelle makin’ musics!” Dawn declared, racing over and immediately seeking to join the fun by tapping on the door to her own rhythm. Chuckling as she raised a hoof, Sweetie Belle startled herself as she knocked thrice in quick succession, her eagerness to bridge whatever rift had been hewn, likely by her own hooves, leading her knocks to come out much more forceful than she meant. “Too hard, Sweebelle! Softa, like this!” Dawn corrected, tapping a gentle rhythm for a few seconds before a snort of suppressed laughter led to a colossal sneeze from inhaled dust, and while Sweetie Belle didn’t wish to offend the sometimes temperamental filly, she could help but laugh as Dawn opened the door and peered out with hooves folded across her chest and a furrowed brow. “That’s notta good song, Sweebelle.”

“While music can take many different forms, I’m afraid I must side with my daughter in this,” came a light-hearted voice from the foal’s father as he approached beside Twilight. “Your most recent piece, ‘Dust in the Schnoz,’ just can’t compare with your earlier work.”

“Cerulean, I don’t think she was trying to sing,” Twilight explained, taking it upon herself to state the obvious.

“Hmmm, yes, it was lacking in vision,” Cerulean replied in a thoughtful tone, craning his neck as Dawn took her usual place atop his head. “Now then, artistic integrity aside, how are you this morning, Sweetie Belle?”

“I’ll be a lot better in a few minutes!” the filly quipped, practically bursting with anticipation. “I have something really important that I need to tell Spike, and... and, um... what’s with that face?” Twilight chuckled nervously for a few seconds before falling silent, wondering why Derpy couldn’t have been tasked with the delivery of the enigmatic letter she retrieved with her magic.

“Spike’s not here right now, but he said to give this to you before he left,” Twilight explained, having exerted all her self-control to refrain from ripping the letter open and perusing the contents herself, and while Spike hadn’t appeared upset when he had made the request, the mare couldn’t help but worry as she floated the envelope over to the filly’s waiting hooves.

A letter? I know Spike writes them all the time, but I don’t think he’s ever written one for me before... Sweetie Belle felt a pang of anticipation, a part of her hoping that it was something super mushy and romantic for her to squeal about and show off to her friends, but she knew that wasn’t the case. Whatever is in this letter, Spike, it won’t change how I feel. You can be as mad as you want, or sad, or anything else, but I’ll... I’ll keep chasing after you. Just like you did for me... She opened the envelope, slowly unfolded the parchment within, and began to read.

Hah! The crew all called me “crazy.” I’ve heard the whispers, talk ‘bout goin’ daft fer buildin’ a pool on me vessel, but where are they now, eh? Cuddlin’ with the coral an’ dinin’ with the denizens o’ the mighty seas! Pipsqueak closed the door to his captain’s quarters with a hearty slam and grinned as he beheld his pride and joy, a monument to his prowess as terror of the high seas. A pool, once nothing more than an empty hole dominating more of his cabin than he cared to remember was now filled to the brim with glistening doubloons, shimmering as brightly as the day they were “liberated” from some other pony and forming a sort of path akin to shifting sands, leading to his desk. Turning briefly and feeling the exhaustion in his limbs from another day bellowing orders, racing about the deck, and leading the assault on many a craft, the dashing stallion began to remove his garb as a sultry voice caused his ear to twitch and his body to tremble with anticipation.

“Oh, my captain has returned! It was ever so lonely without you...”

“Aye, lass, every second away is a second I’ve dallied too long,” the fearsome rogue chuckled, his tone soft as he slowly turned to the mare taking her rightful place at the top of loot pile. “Scootaloo, I may sail these seas till the day I die, but I’ll never find any treasure greater than your smile.”

“Purloined a silver tongue on your latest escapades?” she laughed, tossing a few locks of the magenta mane spilling down around her shoulders with tempting nonchalance. “I would hear more of this. Come to me, my captain...” Slowly extending a hoof in lurid invitation, the faintest hint of a blush tinged the temptress’ cheeks as Pipsqueak slowly began walking over. Standing at the precipice, the stallion took a moment to relish the beauty with which he was witness before leaping with all his might, sailing with ease over half the expanse before landing in utter confusion amidst the coins.

“What ‘n blazes... since when is gold soft?” Pipsqueak muttered, buried up to his waist and pondering why exactly it was that treasure suddenly had the consistency of cotton. “Lass, are ye... Scootaloo?” A pang of fear sent a shiver down the once dauntless captain’s spine as he looked up to find the room empty, and eerily darker than he remembered. “Scootaloo? Ye have poor taste in... in... p-pranks...” One by one, the candles that lit the magnificent chandelier blew out, allowing the cold tentacles of darkness to reach out, grasping towards the pony, no longer a stallion but simply a colt - a colt of little stature, having no cutie mark, and utterly defenseless to do anything but flounder amidst a sea of gold that no longer brought any measure of accomplishment or pride.

“Scootaloo? Scootaloo, come back! I need you! Scootaloo!” Trembling, the colt craned his neck, looking up at the chandelier with just a few wicks still lit. Three... “Scootaloo, where’d you go?” Two... “Scootaloo, you’ve gotta come back! I’m... I’m...” One... “...I’m scared.” A deep rumble akin to taking a cannonball to the starboard rocked the cabin as the last light blew out, and the colt could do little but cry out in desperation as some unseen force began to suck him down along with the gold that filled his open mouth. He managed but one more cry that escaped not as the bellow of a leader, but a whimper of a terrified child as his view went black.

It was easy for the lines between reality and fabrication to be somewhat blurry for Pipsqueak, a condition made worse by a foe only two ponies knew that he struggled with, one being Rumble and the other being Luna. Completely ensnared in his blankets, disoriented from waking in somewhere other than his room at the clinic for the first time a very long while, and still gripped by gut-wrenching terror from the most lucid nightmare he’d ever had, Pipsqueak fought madly with the covers that threatened to plunge him into darkness for a few horrifying seconds before finally breaking free and falling to the floor with a painful thud.

Not paying the throbbing in his side any heed, he ran purely on adrenaline and muscle memory, but the spare bedroom at Gale’s house was nothing like his room, and as he bolted to where the door should have been, he rammed himself into a bookshelf and was half buried by a dozen or so heavy tomes. Woken by the commotion, Cloudburn climbed out of bed and made towards the spare bedroom where the noise had come from, shaking her head and laughing silently as she tried to imagine just what kind of mischief one colt could possibly be getting into this early in the morning, but what awaited her inside wasn’t what she had expected at all.

“Sheesh, I know pirates are rambunctious, but- Pipsqueak! Are you ok?” Mirth fled in an instant upon opening the door and finding the colt sobbing quietly, still mostly covered by hardback volumes. Cloudburn wasted no time in rushing over, hastily swiping away the books and gathering the shaken colt into a firm embrace, wincing a little as she sought to block out the world and its worries by providing shelter over the colt with her mangled wings. She couldn’t imagine what had set the colt off, but what she could feel was the colt’s heart pounding within his chest as rapid breaths made her fear hyperventilation would soon ensue.

What do I do? I wanted so badly to be a parent, but now that I have somepony who needs my help, I can’t do anything but sit here... The hay, why am I sitting here worrying about my own fears? Thrusting aside her inhibitions, Cloudburn laid aside her lack of knowledge and simply followed the gentle tug within her chest, leading her not to spout off trite words of shallow comfort, but simply squeeze a little tighter, rocking gently as Pipsqueak scrambled to get a hold of himself.

I can’t... can’t let her see me like this, not an awesome mare like Cloudburn! I don’t want her to think I’m weak, or lame, or... or... Hearing the words within his own mind ripped at his self-worth like shards of glass, born of a shattered persona, and Pipsqueak couldn’t stop a muffled sob from slipping out as helplessness and worthlessness threatened to overpower him. And yet, as he continued to shed tear despite every effort to dam the waterworks, when he did finally peel his face away and dare to look up at a mare who couldn’t possibly be feeling anything other than scorn, he found ever assumption proved false as he was wrapped in the swaddled in the cloths of comfort. There was no sneer, no disapproving frown, just kindness in the smile of a mare who wanted nothing more than to make everything better.

“You’re safe, Pipsqueak. I won’t let anything hurt you.” Not entirely convinced, Pipsqueak didn’t respond, and after a short while Cloudburn tried again. “So... what happened? Did you attack the shelf?”

“Not on purpose...” he mumbled, rubbing his forehead and wincing as his hoof made connection to a good sized lump.

“That must have been a pretty solid headbutt, champ. I’d say you get bonus experience for style,” Cloudburn mused aloud, garnering a short laugh from the colt whose forehead had definitely leveled up. “I don’t know why you picked a fight with such a ferocious monster, but he sure did a number on you. That thing’s gonna need ice. Can you stand?”

...I don’t want to stand. “I-I think so...” I don’t want to move. I want to stay here. I want to hide. Cloudburn eased her grip only to feel Pipsqueak press closer, saying nothing with words but desperately crying out with his actions. Knowing it was important to rest and lick one’s wounds after an arduous fight, Cloudburn laid aside her role as medic and continued to hold the colt for another few minutes as the shaking subsided and slowly the strength to hide behind a comforting veil of swag returned.

“Ye can be sure this be one scuffle I can’t well be proud o’ tellin’ the tale,” Pipsqueak muttered, pulling away and sniffling. “Laid out by a dusty bookcase... I’d be the laughin’ stock o’ buccaneer’s far an’ near.”

“Hate to agree with you, but I don’t think you can even claim a moral victory here,” Cloudburn teased in a soft tone, perking up as the colt stood, wiping his nose on the back of a hoof and taking a deep breath before turning back around.

“I hate t’ trouble ye, but about that ice ye mentioned...”

“There’ll be ice, aye, but right now it’s breakfast time! So, get your swashbuckling tuckus over to the table and prepare to stow some serious grub, because I’ll be more than a little peeved if you’re not waddling when you leave here today!”

“Oh ho, ye think ye can satisfy me appetite, eh?” Pipsqueak snapped back, wiping the last of the dribble from his nose as his vigor succinctly dethroned depression with all the subtlety of several hundred kegs of the finest dynamite doubloons could theoretically buy. “Aye, I’ll take that challenge, and three more!” With the necessary safeguards in place, the colt seated himself and gratefully accepted a sack of ice with which to soothe the throbbing in his head, and while Cloudburn busied herself preparing the meal, Pipsqueak couldn’t help but reflect on his dream.

He’d had plenty of them, and nightmares the same, but if he closed his eyes, he could still remember each and every moment with frightening clarity. Perhaps even more worrisome was the gnawing doubt in the back of his mind that whispered it was more than just an unfortunate randomization of an active imagination. No, as he fell deeper into introspection, he became convinced that there was some meaning behind everything. He just had no idea what.

“I sincerely hope you’re not strategizing on an empty stomach. That’s just plain poor planning,” Cloudburn cautioned, sliding a plate stacked high with crepes over to the colt. “Get to it. I have a lot more batter left, and I don’t like waste.”

“Ye can be a tad pushy, Cloudburn, but I’ll oblige ye,” Pipsqueak chuckled, taking a deep draft of the tantalizing vapors and letting them out in an anticipatory sigh. She was really nice to me. She deserves a little more than that. While she hadn’t seemed bothered by his usual banter, Pipsqueak wouldn’t have been able to leave in good conscience that morning without thanking her properly. “Um... thanks, Miss Cloudburn.”

That just... “You can... drop the ‘miss.’ Cloudburn is fine. Really, I should be thanking you.” Thank you, Pipsqueak, for making my day. I guess... I did something right after all. Much like the colt staring back in honest confusion, Cloudburn didn’t much like the idea of displaying any signs of weakness, but a single tear of joy slipped out, trailing down her muzzle and landing with a sizzle as Pipsqueak swallowed his mouthful and voiced his puzzlement.

“Lass, it’s a bit strange t’ be thankin’ the blackguard that wrecked your house.”

“Trust me; that’s a small price to pay,” she laughed, returning with another batch as Pipsqueak cleared his plate and eagerly set about demolishing seconds. And thirds. And most of the way through fourths before he ran the white flag, gently massaging his more than satisfied gut. Cloudburn saw him to the door, wishing she had some excuse to make him stay but knowing that even if all went well, she wouldn’t be able to keep him around the house all the time. “Hey, come back and visit sometime, all right?” she called out after him as he began to trot towards town. “I’ll make sure all the furniture is on its best behavior.”

“They’ll be in fer a sound drubbin’ if they cross the line again, mark me words,” Pipsqueak chuckled, sweeping out his hoof and bringing it low in an exaggerated bow. “Thank ye fer yer hospitality, Cloudburn. On me honor, I’ll return again. Ye can be sure o’ that. Fer now, I hear the winds o’ whimsy callin’ me name.”

Turning away, the colt adopted a carefree trot until the mare's house drifted from sight, at which point he slowly pressed for speed until he was tearing through town at a full gallop. As calming as Cloudburn's words had been, he couldn't shake the cloud of foreboding that loomed over his head, and he didn't stop to catch his breath until he was well outside of town, forging a path through wild grass that stood taller than himself. More shaken by the dream and the notion of losing Scootaloo than he had imagined, a lone colt sank to his haunches and quietly shed his strength and few more tears, wrapped not in the hooves of another, but only the scratchy fronds of the fox tails. He told himself it was better that way, that nopony could see him like that and nopony ever should. After all, who could ever love a fraidycat?

"Nopony..." he answered quietly to himself, covering his face in shame even as the tears continued to roll. "Nopony would... ever like the real me. Especially not... not..." Scootaloo...