In one hoof, Pinkie held a heart-shaped box of chocolates. In the other, a bouquet of a dozen red roses. She looked like she was about burst into tears at any moment.
This is what Twilight had opened the front door to, and now the simple question of ‘who is at the door’ had been replaced with... honestly? The question of which question to question first.
“Pinkie?” Pinkie’s bottom lip trembled. She barely suppressed a sniffle. Now Twilight was really getting worried. “Pinkie, what’s wrong?”
It was Sunday morning. It was a lovely spring morning, actually. Twilight had had her breakfast, which was unimportant, and two cups of coffee, which was critically important. She was prepared to deal with whatever the day had to throw at her.
Probably. She was beginning to question that too. Pinkie still hadn’t said anything, she seemed very busy with the business of not crying.
“Tw-Twilight?” Pinkie snuffled, “I’m really, really sorry.” She said, offering out the chocolates, which Twilight took with her magic. Pinkie used her newly-free hoof to wipe her nose.
Twilight considered that a moment. One cup of coffee really wouldn’t have been enough to deal with it. At least with two, she had enough presence of mind to step away from the doorway, and invite Pinkie in. She hesitated, looked at Twilight for all the world like a scared puppy, and plodded in, clutching the roses to her chest like a security blanket.
The throne room wasn’t very personal. But it was the throne room of friendship, and this seemed like a pretty definitive friendship problem, and the chairs had their cutie marks on them, so that would be good enough. She wordlessly offered Pinkie her chair, which she accepted. It was acceptance in the ‘five stages of grief’ sense more than anything else, from the looks of it, and that was still confusing Twilight.
“Thank you for the roses.” Pinkie only let go when she saw Twilight had magic’d a vase to put them in, “And the chocolates.” Twilight smiled as she sat down at her own chair. Pinkie smiled too, but only a little, and then it was gone. Then Twilight’s smile was gone too. “Why are you so upset? What’s wrong?”
“Because!” Pinkie blurted, hooves exploding up, “I like you! And that’s not fair!”
“I like you too, Pinkie.”
“I mean... I like, like-like like you.” Pinkie reiterated.
Oh. The roses. The chocolates. The heart shaped box.
Twilight stared blankly. Her face locked as all the parts of her attention and concentration that would normally go towards maintaining a socially acceptable facial expression were now dedicated to the important task of trying to figure out what was going on. Pinkie was apologizing, upset and—
She stopped thinking. Pinkie was upset right now. She could worry about everything else as it happened. This was definitely within her skillset.
First thing was first. She’d be a good friend. “Would you like a cup of tea while we figure this out? Milk, three sugars?”
Pinkie sniffled, seemed to think about that too before nodding. “Yes, please.”
Good. That was a start. Poof, poof, poof, a few pops and bright bursts of magic and Twilight grabbed the kettle, some tea bags, the milk and the sugar tin from the kitchen with her magic. “Normally I’d ask Spike to make it, but I think we’ll keep this just to ourselves for the moment, yeah?”
Pinkie nodded gratefully. It looked like she was trying to say ‘thank you’, but the words were sticking in her throat. That was okay, that was what the tea was for. Something to sip and fiddle with. It had been a favourite strategy of Celestia’s to use on Twilight when she was growing up.
It’s a true, scientific fact that how people behave, how they think, can be modified by what they’re holding. If you give someone a weight to hold while you talk to them, they’ll consider something more seriously. Something soft and they’ll be more empathetic. Twilight didn’t know what it was about tea, but even just the smell of it, the steam, was reassuring. Twilight took hers in a purple mug with one sugar, stirred three into Pinkie’s pink mug, and passed it across the table.
“Sorry.” Pinkie mumbled again as she held her tea, just warming her hooves on it.
“Why, though?”
“Because,” and where before she’d have flung her hooves in the air again, gotten frustrated again, she was still holding onto her mug. So it was just sad and soft. “It’s not fair for me to do that to you. Because we’re really good friends—we’re really good friends aren’t we?”
“Yes, Pinkie, we are. Or at least, I hope so.”
Pinkie nodded frantically, stopping only to take a sip from her mug. “I hoped so too.” Another big sip, like she was taking a shot of straight whiskey, for courage. “And by telling you I like-like you, I’m putting you in a super awkward position, right? Because you’re my friend and you don’t want to reject me, because that’s a hurtful thing to do and is awful. But you also probably don’t feel the same way, so you don’t want to say ‘yes’ either because that would be awful too. So you could just avoid me and wait for it to stop being awkward, but that won’t happen, because then that’s like rejection and a cherry on top!” The mug slammed back down on the table, empty, and Pinkie wiped the last of her tea from her lips with a long, ragged gasp. She’d said that whole outburst in a single breath.
Twilight processed that information, the precious context greasing the stuck gears.
“So, why tell me at all?” Twilight wondered aloud. Pinkie looked like she was just about to cry again. Oh. That was probably really insensitive. How did it sound if she thought abo—oh wow okay that was really insensitive. “No, no, I mean—” Big sigh, pour Pinkie another mugful because the first one seemed to help, “—you did tell me. And that was very brave of you, and I appreciate that. This has obviously been very difficult for you to express.”
Now she sounded too clinical, too robotic to her own ears. Maybe the tea shouldn’t just be for setting Pinkie’s nerves at ease. She took a long sip of her own, and yeah, that helped. She continued, a little more confidently now, “But you did anyway. So you must have had a good reason, that’s what I meant. Sorry.”
“You’re not allowed to be sorry, I was sorry first!” Pinkie pointed out, jabbing an accusing hoof at Twilight with one hoof and swigging her tea with the other, as if it were a beer stein now. It remained just a mug of tea though. “Because I’ve been thinking about it super hard! And if I did that, I could have said it by accident, bam! Then it’s out there, and it’s even more likely to blow up and make somepony hurt! So if I at least do it properly, on purpose...”
There was a longer silence. Twilight didn’t really know what to say to that, and Pinkie didn’t know what to say either. The words kind of hung in the air between them, and neither of them had the next piece to put down.
It helped to think of it like a puzzle then. Find the corners and work back in. “Well, thank you. The chocolates look lovely.” Pinkie was silent, just fidgeting nervously at that. Neither a smile or a frown, just... fidgeting. “Maybe the roses were a bit much?”
“I knew it!” Pinkie declared, triumphantly. “I panicked!”
“You panicked?”
“I am having a very panicky morning!” Pinkie squeaked.
“I’ve noticed.” Now Twilight was smiling slightly. She couldn’t help it, couldn’t help that it probably looked mean, but Pinkie was just being so... Pinkie. She was being intensely the pony that she was, and it was hard not to smile at that.
Fortunately, Pinkie smiled at that too, or at least relaxed a little. Maybe it would have been worse if Twilight felt like she couldn’t smile around her any more after all...
“So what do we do now?” Twilight asked. “We can’t pretend none of this ever happened.”
“Yes we can!” Pinkie nodded so fast her head nearly rolled off, “We absolutely can, if it helps!”
Twilight shook her head, slow and calm just to be even more opposite, “Not if that’s going to hurt you. Which you already said it would. So that’s off the table.” She lifted her mug and peered over it with serious, stern eyes,” I’m not going to let you martyr yourself for the crime of liking me too much, that’s just silly.”
“It wouldn’t hurt that much...” Pinkie lied.
“No.” Twilight was glad she was sitting for this. “We’re not punishing you for something that’s not your fault. It’s obviously my fault for being too wonderful and perfect and amazing a friend.”
Twilight waited for Pinkie to disagree, or say something. There was a long silence punctuated by Pinkie not doing that thing.
“You’re supposed to disagree!”
“Why? It’s true! You are those things you said!” And Pinkie bounced back into frantic, “Why would I disagree with true things?”
They were both shouting now, hooves on the table and half rising out of their seats. They, as one, got embarassed and self-conscious and all kinds of anxious, and sat back down to find empty mugs of tea. Drat.
“Sorry.” Pinkie apologized again, making Twilight want to rip her hair out in frustration. Which she did on the inside. On the outside? Calm, calm, totally calm.
“Alright. That leaves us two possible choices then; I say yes, or I say no. But what that really means is, do I give you a chance or not? So when I put it like that... Did you have any plans for a first date?” She cleared her throat a little awkwardly, and her tongue was starting to feel like it didn’t quite fit in her mouth. “I’ll be honest, this is completely new to me.”
Pinkie’s eyes lit up, and it was the first sign of life and energy she’d shown this whole time that wasn’t panicked, or anxious. “So you like-like like me?”
Twilight kept her calm tone, even as she wanted to smile again at just how much of an effect it’d had on her. How much of an effect she could have on her, apparently. “I don’t know yet. I haven’t tested it. You’ve had a lot more time to think about this than I have, so it’s only fair if you give me a chance to—” She didn’t get to finish that, because Pinkie had leapt out of her seat, over the table, and squeezed Twilight in the biggest hug of her life. She felt ribs almost, but not quite, crack. There was definitely creaking.
“Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you,” creak, creak, creak go the ribs as Pinkie twisted the hug back and forth, “I promise, I’ll make everything super special, and wonderful, and... Yes! You said yes!”
Pinkie bounced off Twilight again, if only to do happy skip-laps around the table. In another world, one where Twilight was too focused on not leading Pinkie on, she never got to see this, see how happy she’d made Pinkie in that moment. That world sucked.
“I promise, I Pinkie Promise,” Pinkie continued, both talking and bouncing, bouncing and talking, “that even if you don’t want to be like, together after, I’ll remember that you wanted to give it an Applejack-honest try! I’ve been planning this in my head for ages, and ages and ages and ages, so I should have everything ready to pick you up at about five, okay? And you don’t have to dress up if you don’t want to, it’s a lot nicer when you’re just comfortable and stuff. Okay!” Pinkie bounced on the spot, vibrating with smiles and happiness and... she even looked pinker than normal, somehow. “Five! I’ll be back! Gotta go get ready!”
Pinkie zoomed off, poof, cloud of smoke and barely a little pink after image.
That world sucked. That other world’s Twilight sucked too, apparently. She didn’t deserve to have this one.
...
That other Twilight also didn’t have to make a contingency plan for the possibility of having to let Pinkie down gently after getting her hopes up, and could be comfort-eating chocolate right now.
Instead it was time to go bang her head against the wall until Spike found her and asked her to stop.
It hadn’t been long. By midday, Twilight had gotten some very productive reading and anxiety accomplished. She had a break for a light lunch and some panicking, before continuing with some far more confident stress afterwards.
It was one of those things she couldn’t really prepare for. It was like preparing for a surprise quiz, in a way. All the relevant stimulus would be provided later, and that was the only time the stress would be productive. What she did know, though, was that she was going to be doing something stressful later, and that she couldn’t do anything to prepare for it, and that was a whole different kind of stress.
Did she want to look nice? It’d be a gesture that she was prepared to give the whole ‘date’ thing an honest try, but that’d make letting Pinkie down gently at the end worse if it didn’t work out. Did she bring her own gift? Same problem. Did she wait at the door at the exact right time, or did she just answer when Pinkie knocked?
Those thoughts, those started as soon as Pinkie left. Well, that wasn’t true, banging her head against the wall came first. That all came when Spike asked her to explain what was going on.
By lunch, though, she had asked herself why she wasn’t just excited for what could very well be a lovely evening? The answer was obvious; A very dear friend had just made herself very vulnerable to Twilight, and she didn’t want to betray that in any way.
So why, then, for the first time in her life, was she planning around failure? That’s not what she did. No, what she did was do absolutely everything in her power to make everything go right, and then deal with failure if that didn’t work. She never planned on if.
After that came the confident stresses of the afternoon. Yes, she was going to dress up; so what did she wear? What was too much, and what was too little? The lovely yellow dress she had worn to the Canterlot garden party seemed perfect. Well, now that it had wing slits...
Of course she’d bring a gift. What that would be, exactly, was much harder to pin down. She foisted that one off to Spike. He was removed from the situation, he could make a more reasonable judgement. Also, one less thing for Twilight to worry about herself.
Did she wait at the door? Of course she did, but with a book. So she wasn’t impatient or antsy, but Pinkie wasn’t left waiting at the door wondering whether Twilight was going to answer it or not.
She’d set up her stool near the front door and got something to read, something pulpy and stupid so she didn’t have to think about it too hard. Perfect.
This was a Canterlot murder mystery, the kind where everyone jokes that the butler did it, except the butler never did it because everyone knows it was the butler, except sometimes it really was the butler just to psych you out. One of those.
Then the door opened. Nopony had knocked! She jumped a foot off the stool, back arched like a scared cat, as Spike—
Oh, it was just Spike. With his bag of something.
“Hey.” He had one eyebrow raised super hard.
“Oh, don’t give me attitude, mister.” Twilight scolded, “When you expect somepony to knock first and they just walk right in—you want me to start doing that to you?”
Spike eyebrow came crashing back down and his face entered crisis mode. “Ah, no, sorry.” He shook the shock off like a wet dog, “Why were you sitting next to the door though?”
“Because I am trying to be reasonably prepared for this date. As opposed to unreasonably prepared. Is this unreasonably prepared?”
Spike snorted. “That depends. By your standards? No. By anyone else’s? It’s only four thirty.”
“Oh, shush. If this was you waiting on Rarity, you’d be standing with your hand warming the door handle for a full fifteen minutes before she said she’d show up, and then the whole fifteen minutes after that she kept you waiting.”
“Yeah but I got mad crushes on Rarity.” Spike agreed, “You don’t like, like-like Pinkie, though, do you?”
“I don’t know yet.” Twilight answered, maybe a little curtly. Okay, she was downright brusque about it. She tried to sit back down on her stool and fell flat on her butt. She’d knocked it over when Spike had startled her, and she hadn’t noticed. Smooth.
As Spike helped her back up, she managed to get a peek in the bag.
“Cider?”
“Yeah. Rarity said to get a bottle of the hard stuff from AJ.”
“You told Rarity? You told Applejack?!” Twilight breathed, her legs going noodley underneath her. Spike managed to catch her with the stool this time, though, because she’d forgotten to pick it back up first again.
Her attention was on more important things than making sure the stool was there before she sat on it, obviously.
“C’mon, Twilight, give me some credit. I told Rarity I was asking ‘cause I thought pony dating etiquette was weird. Asked what could possibly be more appropriate for a first date then a ruby the size of my fist?”
Twilight processed that. She came to a very uncomfortable conclusion; Spike was capable of subterfuge. She’d have to watch out for that... “Wow. That’s almost devious.”
“Yeah, it might have worked if Pinkie hadn’t asked Rarity for advice sooner. She asked me if I brought it up because Pinkie finally asked you out.”
Twilight’s head shot back, and she let out a frustrated ‘ugh!’ at the ceiling. It helped, so she did it again. ‘Ugh!’.
“Yeah, probably should have seen that one coming. But she said Pinkie was probably too nervous to talk to anyone else, especially because she thought you’d say ‘no’ straight out.”
“Well!” Twilight threw her hooves up in the air in frustration, “I didn’t!”
Spike continued, “So I didn’t tell Applejack, either, and saw if Rarity was right about the not telling anyone else thing?”
“Yeah? Had she?”
“Nope. So I had absolutely no idea how to explain why I wanted hard cider.”
Twilight looked at the bottle of hard cider that was still very much here. “So what did you figure out?”
“I said I didn’t believe for a single second Applejack had a bottle of hard cider that tasted as good as the real stuff, ponies only drink it for the buzz and since I’m a dragon, alcohol doesn’t affect me.”
“Wow.” Twilight said again. “And she bought it?”
“Oh yeah. She’s the element of Honesty, Twilight. It’d be stupid to lie to her, and Applejack knows I’m not stupid.”
“Wow,” Twilight said again, flexing her mighty vocabulary. “Puberty hit you like a truck, huh?”
“Yeah, who knows.” Spike smirked, and she could hear his eyeroll as he walked away, “Maybe I’ll even start dating, soon.”
“Was that a jab at—-”
“How could it, Twilight?” his voice was receding into the middle distance.
There was no way she could follow up without him just accusing her of projecting, and him having plausible deniability. Was this how she’d raised him? As an evil genius? Well she was oddly proud of it, so maybe. Maybe she should ask Rarity and Applejack for advice, too, about raising teenagers. Or maybe consider prolonged exposure to Rainbow Dash as practice?
At least warn Applejack to hide the liquor better.
Wait was Spike lying about the drinking thing or did he actually know from trial and error...
Oh hey!
Now she was so worried about Spike and his upbringing, she wasn’t nervous at all about her date with Pinkie!
With that thought, she went back to her book with a relaxed and relieved sigh.
This time, when Pinkie knocked, Twilight opened the door to a smiling pony. It was the most terrified smile she’d ever seen. Instead of chocolates and roses, Pinkie was wearing a little purple bowtie and, apparently, her heart on her sleeve.
Twilight blinked, a little uncertain. “Hello.”
“Hi.” Pinkie squeaked back. It was still an improvement over the crying, So Twilight smiled at that. Which made Pinkie’s smile a little less terrified, and a little more genuine too. They reached equilibrium right at the, oh, three second mark when neither of them had still said anything, and they’d just been smiling for three long seconds.
Twilight brought up the bottle, which she’d tied a little ribbon bow to, wielding it like a weapon with which she’d crush the heinous ice. “I got you something.”
“Oh hey,” Pinkie giggled, “Look, it matches mine. Oh! And you know what else?”
“What’s that?”
“We both get drunk when we’re full of hard cider, ha ha.” Pinkie giggled again.
Both get drunk when—
She was a Princess. She was Celestia’s personal student. Dignity should have come naturally to her, but the moment Twilight understood the wordplay she snorted, hard, the laugh kind of punching its way out her nose, deciding not to bother on waiting.
Twilight clapped a hoof to her mouth in shock. Pinkie’s giggles became outright laughter, and that was contagious, and so Twilight was laughing too.
They just laughed a little bit, not at the joke, more at how much they’d laughed at it, and they just ended up standing there in the doorway, smiling at each other again.
It was okay this time.
“Oh!” Pinkie kind of jumped without moving, all the motion was in her eyes, the twitch of her head, “Right! Shall I escort the lovely lady to dinner this fine evening?”
Pinkie offered a foreleg out, crooked, bowing slightly. Twilight took it with her own.
“I would be delighted.”
Pinkie spun her out of the doorway, like they were dancing, and Twilight pulled the door shut behind her as they both walked out into the snowy winter streets. They walked side by side, Pinkie leading just a few steps ahead, a little closer than usual but not too much, and Pinkie took to trying to catch snowflakes on her tongue whenever she thought Twilight wasn’t looking.
Twilight intoned seriously, “I’m just warning you right now, if you throw a snowball at me later, you’re going down.”
“Nah.”
Twilight paused, even mistimed her next step. “I’m pretty sure...”
“Oh, no.”
“I’m a Princess. I have magic. I wouldn’t go easy on you.”
“Well, yeah.” Pinkie skipped for a few steps, giggling, “You’d be a challenge, sure. It’d be fun! But you would absolutely, positively, absotively-posilutely lose. Like, no question.”
Twilight was silent at that.
Pinkie snorted. “You’re totally thinking about proving me wrong right now, aren’t you?”
“No.” Yes!
Pinkie tried to hide she was giggling with an arm, but all it did was draw attention to it more. “Maybe after dinner.” Pinkie pointed up ahead, “See! We’re nearly there anyway.”
Twilight followed the pointing hoof, traced it to its destination, looked back at the hoof to make sure she was looking correctly. Yeah, she was. “Pinkie, that’s a diner.”
“Yep!”
“I thought it’d be like... a fancy restaurant. Or the theatre. Or something? Isn’t that the sort of thing you’re supposed to do on a first date?”
“Let me answer your question with another question. I’m allowed to do that right?”
“Like that one?”
Now it was Pinkie’s turn to be thrown off-step a moment, and she snickered. Twilight paused, too, just until Pinkie could take the lead again. “Yeah, like that one too. Okay, so, have you ever been to the Hitching Post before? That’s what the diner’s called.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“So here’s what I was thinking,” Pinkie explained, eyes on the diner, not looking at Twilight, “I was thinking, what’s a good date? It could be a fancy restaurant, but Twilight’s a Princess anyway, and I don’t think either of us find them very fun.” Twilight nodded, both to agree and to encourage Pinkie to continue, “And with a show, it’s nice and all, but we don’t get to talk during it. So that’s just kind of awkward when you don’t know what you’re supposed to do. Do you be quiet? Do you not be quiet? What if you’re quiet, and they want you to say something because the silence is uncomfortable but they don’t want to say something first? That’s terrible.”
“I—yeah. Yeah, it really is.”
“So I thought, what do we both like? Hot, greasy take out, finding out about new places, being in places where you’re just allowed to talk and no one’s really expecting you to behave in a certain way. So, ta da, I’m taking you out to my most favourite diner, which I don’t tell anyone else about because I like it being, like, my little secret spot.”
Twilight was... she didn’t know what she was. Surprised? “So you just... forgot about what ponies said the right thing to do was, and actually thought about what would make us happy instead?”
“Yeah, isn’t that so weird?” Pinkie was laughing like it was a joke, but Twilight didn’t laugh with her. That caused Pinkie to hesitate again, get nervous. If you were looking at her eyes, you could see her scanning the last fifteen seconds to figure out what she’d done wrong.
She hadn’t done anything wrong.
“I wish I could do that.” Twilight admitted. “Or not stress out about it so much when I do.”
Pinkie skipped just a little bit ahead, so Twilight couldn’t see her face anymore. “What, be weird? Because you’re great at that. It’s a good look for you, too”
“No, I mean... you know what I meant.”
Pinkie’s voice took on a sing-song quality, “Yeah, I did. But then I’d have had to admit I’m still actually kind of really scared about it, and I couldn’t really joke about that part.”
Oh. Well. Alright then.
They were at the diner. Pinkie held the door open for Twilight, and she looked genuinely excited now. They nodded at each other as Twilight entered, smiled, and Twilight realized she’d been kind of smiling a lot. She hadn’t meant to. Was that weird? It hadn’t felt weird until she thought about it.
She supposed it couldn’t be helped.
The diner was charming, and quaint. It was a place where neither of those words were said backhandedly, or as veiled criticisms, but used with intent. It was a small town diner, which meant it felt big and cramped at the same time. There was plenty of space to move around, but not many places to go. The outside was grey brick cornering and base, with olive wood walls and a big, raised sign of individual white metal letters that called it the Hitching Post, with a little wooden ‘pi’ symbol between the words.
She knew it was what a cartoon hitching post would look like, but in the dark, it solidified the place in her mind as Pinkie’s diner.
Inside was a long counter, with a padded stool every few steps. It looked like the kind of place her parents would have gone for milkshakes when they were dating. Across from the counter, lining the windows, tables and booths kept immaculately clean. The tables sparkled, the vinyl was unscathed, menus were neatly kept in metal stands between militarily precise salt-and-pepper shakers on each table. Twilight could almost see her own reflection in the white floor tiles. Only a few other ponies were eating here, and their groups seemed to each have about half the building to them.
The whole place was quiet, the sound of the other diners just breaking over the muffled noises of grills and coffee machines, deep fryers and boiling water. The warmth, though, the smell, was absolute rapture. Stepping out from the snow into the smell of hot pies and fried potato, and coffee and cinnamon and nutmeg... she shuddered happily.
“Man,” Pinkie remarked as she followed Twilight in, “it’s way more crowded than usual. I’m glad I got us a reservation, huh?”
There couldn’t have been more than six ponies here, unless they were all hiding in the bathroom.
“Is that my itty bitty babushka I hear?” A loud and boisterous voice called from the kitchens. Was it possible for a voice to sound like it had too much body hair? Some of the other diners turned their heads, but only for a moment, before going back to their food. So this was normal, then.
“Hiya, Mr Biscuits!” Pinkie cheered back as the swing-door behind the counter opened, and a piebald pony with more hair on his chin than between his ears popped out. He was wearing a hairnet, but it was in all the wrong places. Curly black mane down the back of his neck, scraggly chin, white-and-brown splotches, and a greasy apron tucked under his chest, tied around his waist.
Some of the best moments of the best years of Twilight’s life had been spent at Pony Joe’s diner. This was not Pony Joe, but she sensed in him a kindred spirit, guardians of the greasy spoon.
“Ah, table for two, for the little chicas? Pinkie’s been very busy preparing for tonight, huh.” he laughed, and you could tell from his laugh he was probably very handsome when he was younger, and he hadn’t looked at a calendar since.
Pinkie swatted at the air with a hoof, as if to smack down the remark before Twilight could hear it. “Nah, it was nothing, Mr Biscuits.”
“Nothing?” He asked incredulously, “Nothing? Ah, she’s been zipping around that hall like her tail was on fire, I’ll have you know.”
“R-really, sir, I was just trying to keep busy—”
He pulled a spatula from his apron, somehow, and jabbed it threateningly at Twilight, “She’s a sweet girl, now, you hear? So you go treating my Pinkie right, eh?” The spatula was lowered before either Pinkie or Twilight could process this. They both lost the race to see who could protest first. “Ah, I’m sure you will, I’m sure you will.”
“I’ll check in on the bella and bonita when they’re ready to order, yeah, and not a moment sooner, don’t you worry about that. You both just have a great night, I’m sure you will, I’m sure you will.” He added as he disappeared back into the kitchen. Black smoke had started to rise from the top of the doorway, followed by some angry words Twilight couldn’t trace the geographical origin of.
They took their seats at the booth with the little ‘reserved’ placard, sitting across from each other. The red vinyl booth was surprisingly comfortable, but what little confidence Pinkie had when they entered seemed to have evaporated into a newfound wave of self-consciousness. “I didn’t really work all that hard for tonight.” She explained. “I know it’s just a first date.” She pleaded.
“So what did you do?” Twilight wasn’t upset. She was curious, which was as close to her core state of being as anything else.
“Not much...” She sighed, fiddling with the salt and pepper shakers, rolling them around on their edges to give her hooves something to do, “Just asked Rarity about the tie, did my chores at Sugarcube Corner, fixed my hair, got the reservations, read a book on social faux pas, made sure the reservation was booked for five thirty and not five because I forgot we had to walk here first, practice talking with Gummy...”
“Oh. Well, if it helps, I was busy being really stressed about not doing those things. I’m sorry for not noticing your mane...?”
Pinkie snort-laughed. “Oh, that’s fine. I don’t see the difference either. It just took me an hour to work out that my hair is impervious to fashion.”
“Cadance had the same problem with Shining!”
Pinkie blew at one of the dangling strands of curls that was getting into her eyes, even now. “How’d he fix it?”
“I’m sorry, you’ve met my brother.” Twilight snorted, rolling her eyes, “You saw how it looked at his wedding. What makes you think he ever did?”
“Oh.”
“It’s not like it looks bad though.” Twilight added, “It suits you. It’s possibly the only hair in Equestria that’s bouncy enough to keep up with you anyway.”
Pinkie blushed, which Twilight could see only for the second before Pinkie started burying her face into her hooves and groaning. “Thanks.”
“The tie suits you a lot, too. Makes you look smart.”
Pinkie peeked out from behind one of her face-smooshing hooves. “Like, dapper-smart or intelligent-smart?”
“I’d say both.”
Pinkie’s face smooshing redoubled, and her chin hit the table, still hiding herself. “I’m sorry!”
Twilight felt herself laugh, couldn’t help it. “Sorry for what?”
“I’m being awkward, and weird, and I can’t help it!” she moaned, "But you’re being nice to me, even though you know I like-like you, and it’s... weird.”
“Weird’s a good look for you, too.”
“That’s my line!” Pinkie accused, holding one leg across her eyes and the other pointing at Twilight threateningly.
“Well, now it’s our line. Look, we’re already doing things as a couple.” Twilight joked. Then clapped her own mouth shut with her hooves, even as Pinkie lifted her head off the table.
“What’d you say?”
Twilight had options. The best one would have been to not have made that joke but c’est la faux pas. She could lie, she could tell the truth, or she could rephrase.
Lying was the easiest option, but liable to hurting Pinkie’s feelings. Telling the truth was a harder option, but liable to making Pinkie feel like she was being... like Twilight wasn’t taking her seriously. Rephrasing depended on how clever she was.
“Well, even if this doesn’t work out,” Twilight explained, “This is still a date, right? I’m all dressed up, we’re having what should be a lovely dinner,” it wasn’t Prench cuisine, but that suited her fine, Prench always left her starving, “so, right now, I guess we’re a couple?”
“... yeah.” Pinkie slowly lifted from the table, until she was leaning all the way back in her seat, staring at Twilight in disbelief. “I guess we are?”
Twilight was pretty darn clever, when she wanted to be.
“I don’t think this is going to work if we both plan on the what-if’s.” Twilight admitted. “Right now, all we know is you like me, and that I said ‘yes’ to giving it a chance. So, what if instead of a date, this were a monster right now? What would we do?”
“It is a friendship problem...” Pinkie admitted slowly. “Okay. Okay, so this date is a big scary monster. So... Twilight, what do we do against big scary monsters?”
“Our best, Pinkie.” Twilight reached over and held one of Pinkie’s hooves, which froze like Twilight had just put a hissing rattlesnake against it, “When we think about what if it doesn’t work out when a big scary monster happens, it just reminds us why we shouldn’t fail. It never makes us too scared to try!”
Pinkie’s hoof relaxed. Her posture relaxed. Then, at last, even her face relaxed.
“Yeah. You gotta...” Pinkie stopped. Started to tense again.
“Giggle at the ghostly?” Twilight finished.
Then, all that tension, coiled like a spring, snapped at once. She laughed, Pinkie laughed, and laughed, and she tapped a hoof against the table—not banged, just enough to rattle the salt and pepper a little. “That’s what I was gonna say, but I thought it’d be silly! But then you said it for me, so now I just look silly for not saying it!” She laughed some more. “Because I’m trying not to be silly, I’m being really silly, right? So if I don’t try not to mess this up... if I just try to make this a great first date...” the laughing stopped as the epiphany dawned on Pinkie like it had on Twilight hours before.
Twilight tried not to laugh herself; This is exactly why she’d gotten all her productive panicking out of the way earlier. If she’d had to prepare the date, instead of just preparing to be taken on the date, she’d be exactly where Pinkie was.
That was kind of a nice thought, that they worried about the same things.
“So, Pinkie,” Twilight went on, to fill the silence of Pinkie’s epiphany, “what should we eat?”
“Ah! Right!” Now she was excited, she was full of energy, she was full of determination. A switch had been flipped. “Oui, Garcon?”
Mr Biscuit—his nametag said Buttery—practically vaulted the counter with a greasy notebook. “Aeyup, Madame?”
“Two fully loaded all-hots with extra axle grease, two blondes-with-sand, some extra crispy breath, flop two with a side of fries, some yellow paint in the alley, some frog-fried dough and a shared houseboat for afters, got it?”
He followed along with a flurry of the pencil. “Aye, and for the lady?”
“Oh, uh, that’ll do for both of us this time.”
Twilight raised an eyebrow at that. Pinkie’s smile became sheepish—a new flavour for the night—and Buttery Biscuit explained by pointing at a picture on the wall.
Apparently Pinkie had been one of five ponies to ever complete the Iron Stomach challenge. She didn’t recognize any of the others. The photo of her was next to a pile of crumbs, and a toothy grin big enough to eat the plate. Which, considering...
“Huh. How many ponies try it?”
“More’s than good for ‘em.” Biscuit chuckled, deep from the back of his throat, “if they eat it all, it’s free.”
Pinkie was right back to smooshing her head down into the table. “I didn’t want to admit I left my money at home that day...”
Biscuit nodded. “Well, I won’t darken your door any further, ladies. I’ll—” the smell of black smoke reached the table. The muttered curses started again, and now Twilight could hear them better, she decided that no matter where you were in the world, the words originated east of that place, somehow.
“You won an eating competition here?” Again, curiosity, a good place to be. “Where did you even fit it all?”
“Well, I hadn’t eaten the day before, and I had a glass of milk, so that helped...” Pinkie admitted, back to nervous again. “But yeah... I guess I did?”
Twilight shook her head. “Pinkie, I’m impressed. I don’t know why this would be embarrassing... Unless you think I’ve never seen you eat an entire cake in one bite before?”
“No, I know,” Pinkie bounced in her seat frantically. “It’s just... I’m imagining the look on Rarity’s face if she found out!”
Now Twilight was choking back a laugh at that, and the sudden rush of air made her blow that strange, repressed raspberry of those who nearly succeeded in keeping the guffaw down, but not quite. “Rarity must never know.” She finally agreed. “But I’ve never seen one of those challenges before. I didn’t know they were an actual thing.”
“You’ve never even seen one before?”
“No,” she half-shrugged, “but... Rarity must never know, right?”
“Ever.” Pinkie emphasized.
“Ever.” Agreed. “Next time we come here, I’d love to try it. At least once.”
“Yeah?” Pinkie leaned forward in her seat, leaning against her elbows, “You think?”
“It sounds like fun. Besides, you’re never too royal to try for a free lunch.”
Pinkie snickered. “Wow, you should do that in like, your prettiest Princess dress, and a crown, and everything, and just go nuts at it. I would pay good money to see that.”
“In my dress?” Twilight asked with incredulity, that high-pitched tone of voice you put on when you pretend you’re offended at something, “With a sparkly crown?”
“Well, I mean, any crown you wear would be a Sparkle-y crown.” Pinkie pointed out, and they both giggled at that. “Also, again, I gotta say it, imagine the look on Rarity’s face.”
So Twilight did, and it was fantastic. It would come to her in dreams and nightmares both.
And the food arrived, and that would have haunted Rarity’s dreams and nightmares both.
“‘Ere we are, ladies,” Mr Biscuit announced, dropping to the table the platters he was carrying. Pinkie sprang back off her elbows, bouncing up and down again in excitement, “Two overstuffed baked potatoes with extra butter, a pot of sweet coffee, extra cream, best onion bloom I’ve made tonight, two fried eggs for dipping with a side of fries, a stack of Prench toast and the banana split coming later for dessert. Am I missing anything?”
Pinkie surveyed her new domain laid across the table, and found it wanting. “The alley paint, chief.”
Biscuit smacked his head. “Ah! Right, the side’a mustard. Coming right up.”
Twilight blinked. “Wait, that was actual diner slang. That was an actual language you two used?”
“Yuppers!” Pinkie nodded emphatically, reaching for her brim-to-bursting, steaming-hot baked-but-also-maybe-a-little-fried potato, dropping on it a generous dollop of sour cream and chives from a little seasoning bowl on the plate. “I also know hobo code.”
“Hobo code?”
“Oh my gosh, you don’t know hobo code? Okay, okay, so this is great. Basically it’s like, a really simple sign dictionary. Really simple markings and shapes, right, but they all mean something. Like, Fluttershy’s cottage has a chalk picture of a stick figure kitty on it, so that means she’s nice, and there’s like a dozen different ones for police officer, and they’re like... hold on, let me grab a napkin.”
And so Twilight watched as Pinkie drew out an entire dictionary of simple symbols. Two W’s intersecting meant ‘dog’. Skull and crossbones meant ‘doctor’. A ‘U’ meant a camp, while upside down it meant police. There were a lot of ones for police, actually. Hobos and police apparently didn’t get along.
Then it overspilled the napkin, so Pinkie started drawing at the back, with Twilight’s prompting and suggestions. They’d finished their potatoes, at some point, and had moved on to the eggs and fries.
“Can I keep these?” Twilight finally asked, gesturing to the napkins with a fork as she chewed a generous mouthful of the fries, dipped in gravy and cheese curds which tasted like precious memories felt. “I want to see how these compare to simple alchemy symbols.”
“Alchemy symbols?” Pinkie munched through two entire slices of Prench toast. “Wazzat?”
“Well, traditionally, it’s simple shapes too, used to refer to elements or mixing. Like, an equation like this—” An upside down triangle with a leg, a sideways trident facing right and a capped pyramid, “would mean mixing air and a cinder in a crucible. That’s a really simple one, I mean. But they’re similar in a way I find really interesting.”
“Huh. I wonder how many hobos knew alchemy.”
“That’s what I’m wondering, now.” Twilight admitted. “It definitely gives a lot more context to the travelling snake oil salesman...”
Pinkie gulped down the toast. “Hey! Does that mean we’re solving mysteries together, again?” She was so excited, she even managed to stop eating long enough to talk about it. “Because it was really fun, being the detective, and you being my plucky assistant.”
“It was. Though,” Twilight remarked dryly, stirring a fry thoughtfully in the mustard bowl, “I think I made for the better detective. You made for a fantastic... well, in literature, you’d call it a ‘face’, the pony who deals with the social side of the investigation. Without your fantastic hype-up pitch of the desserts, there probably wouldn’t have been a mystery to solve at all. You even got Applejack to lie!”
“You know, sometimes, I think you mixed Applejack and Rainbow’s elements around,” Pinkie admitted thoughtfully.
“I mean, probably,” Twilight finally ate the fry pointedly, to emphasize her statement and also because the mustard was actually really good, and the fries were the perfect amount of crisp and salt, “but I’d only known you girls for, what, a day?”
“Oh yeah... I guess four out of six isn’t so bad, when you look at it like that.”
“And I wasn’t the nicest pony back then.” Twilight admitted. “So I didn’t make the best use of that day, anyway. You’ve really helped me come out of my shell. Spike’s great, but he’s more of a ‘snark’ than a ‘face’. He’s better at pointing out when I’m going too far, which is... okay I also really needed that, back then, too.”
“Back then?” Pinkie teased, and Twilight stuck her tongue back out at her. Pinkie’s laughter caught in her throat a moment, and she looked at Twilight weirdly for a moment, but then the laughter was back and they were both tearing into the last of the food remaining. Dessert awaited, once they finished their plates.
“But maybe that’s it then! It’s not a detective-and-assistant relationship, but thinker-and-talker. Crime doesn’t stand a chance!” Twilight threw back her head and cackled maniacally, something she’d gotten good at after years of mostly-sarcastic practice ‘in case she ever turned evil’. There was a reputation among Celestia’s students that she’d mostly skipped and...
... wow, maybe that’s why Spike was turning out the way he was.
She snapped back, feeling guilty she’d sort of drifted off there, but her date looked lost in her own thoughts too.
“When you said ‘you’ve’ really helped me come out of my shell,” Pinkie finally asked, taking a sip of her coffee to force her mouth to wait for her thoughts to catch up, “You meant ‘you’ as in all the girls, right? And not ‘you’ as in ‘me’?”
“No,” Twilight shook her head, “I mean, you as in you. Before trying to figure out your Pinkie Sense, I was stuck thinking of ponies like... like equations you could solve. Like calculations that would always perform X function based on Y input, and all I had to do was solve for pony. And with most of my friends in Canterlot, they were either... I don’t want to say simple here, because that’s wrong, but predictable, or I’d known them long enough to have had more time figuring them out. And so I never really learned I was wrong. And then you came along and... everything exploded.”
“Figuratively or literally? Because I honestly can’t remember.”
“Figuratively. But it still took a piano dropping on my head for me to figure it out!” Twilight grit her teeth, angry at herself. A smart pony once told her regret was the feeling of trying to change something that had already happened, and right now she was trying to achieve this by dropping bigger pianos on her teenage self.
Pinkie’s hoof reached out and took Twilight’s, and rubbed it reassuringly. “Twilight, you are the smartest, cleverest, most brilliant pony I’ve ever met.” She said, softly, “You just never had to learn how to be wrong. And then, when you did, you learned quick, and you’ve always, always, no matter who, or what, or when, you’ve tried to be kind, and patient. And I think it says a lot that you’re still trying to make up for every time you’ve been anything less.”
Twilight looked up, at Pinkie’s big blue watery eyes, at the softest, most precious smile she’d seen all evening. At the hope, at the lov—like, at the vulnerability she saw there. And, like a cat in a box, because she observed it, it ceased to be. The hoof flinched back, and Pinkie looked down and away, like the eye contact had hurt her somehow.
So Twilight reached out and took the hoof back, and she didn’t stop looking in Pinkie’s eyes until they met hers again, and that’s when Twilight gave Pinkie the same smile right back, with accumulated interest, and a lump appeared in Pinkie’s throat which she struggled to gulp down.
“Pinkie, until I met you, I had never, ever met anyone who so genuinely wanted to bring out the best in everyone around them. The best in me. You always made me want to try to be a better pony.”
“Aw, geeze, Twilight...”
It was one of those things that you don’t realize how true it is until you say it. Like actually saying it causes it to make it true now, even though it had always been there. Like how Buttery Biscuit could remain unchanged so long as he never bought a calendar. Like looking at Pinkie had caused the change then.
Maybe that was it then. Just like Pinkie had panicked at the start, because she hadn’t done her panicking beforehand, maybe that’s all a crush was... just taking the time to step back and realize how much a person meant to you. How happy they made you to be around.
Pinkie really did make her happy, didn’t she? Even when she’d decided she liked Twilight, she was more worried about hurting the friendship than she was of being rejected. And she cared a lot about being rejected, because it seemed Twilight meant a lot to her, too.
And then she realized she’d spent the whole time she was thinking this just looking into Pinkie’s eyes with the most stupidly fascinated expression.
She was decidedly okay with that, right now.
“Have you ever been someone’s special somepony before, Pinkie?” Twilight finally asked.
Pinkie shook her head, emphatically, no. “Nope. Never.” Another pause, and Pinkie kept looking at Twilight, but she was looking at her mouth now, her lips, like she couldn’t quite work her way back up to eye contact again yet. “Wait, before? Do you mean...?”
“Well, I mean, this is new to me too. But I think I’ve figured something out. I think a relationship isn’t just like it is in books, or what Rarity says it is—add to the growing list of things we don’t tell Rarity about tonight—I think you make the decision you want to like the other person, and then you remind yourself why every day, and as long as that’s what you have... I think that would make me very happy, Pinkie, because I think you’d make me very happy.”
Pinkie blushed harder, and her eyes went lower. Eye contact was even harder now, even though Twilight was watching her carefully. Maybe because Twilight was watching her carefully. It was amazing how simply observing something could change it so drastically. “So you’re saying I’d just have to keep making you happy, and as long as I can do that, I get to keep you?”
Twilight nodded, and looked away towards the kitchen, watching Pinkie out of the corner of her eye. And lo, indeed, as soon as she appeared to stop looking, Pinkie straightened again, looked more intently at her. Hypothesis confirmed. “Sort of. I’m saying we’d both have to do that, for each other, I think.”
The banana split slid quietly onto the table. By the time Twilight or Pinkie could turn their heads, Biscuit was gone, the only hints he was ever there were the dessert and the kitchen door still swinging.
Hot, caramelized banana, big scoops of homemade vanilla ice cream—the kind of vanilla ice cream that didn’t mean plain, it emphatically meant vanilla—hot fudge and chopped nuts, topped in whipped cream, dusted with cinnamon.
“Oh, oh wow,” Twilight breathed, looking at it. “Do we have to share it?”
Pinkie shook her head, even as Twilight brought a trembling spoon up in awe. “No, no, you could absolutely let me have the whole thing.”
“Okay, I had that one coming. Sharing it is.”
Pinkie’s spoon hovered at her edge, Twilight on her side. They stared, neither of them wanting to be the one to make the first move, both of them wanting to have the first bite...
“Same time?” Pinkie asked.
“Same time.” Twilight agreed. “On the count of three... two...”
Two spoons hit banana and ice cream and caramel, went right through and hit the bottom of the glass bowl with a ‘clink’. The banana was barely intact, with just enough structural integrity to look pretty for the dish, but melt in your mouth s absolutely right.
As she took her first bite, Twilight knew true happiness.
Pinkie looked up with glazed over eyes, almost like she was on narcotics. In truth, the split was stronger still. “Were we talking about something... important?”
“Can’t remember. Brain too busy processing input from mouth.”
“Mmm”
They each took about a fair half, being careful not to overdo their share. This took a dedicated, concentrated effort, but the alternative was the risk of taking more than their fair share each; unforgivable.
Then, all too soon, it was gone.
Both of them let out a contented sigh in stereo.
“Okay.” Twilight admitted, “Best food of my life.” She reached for her coin purse, and Pinkie’s eyes widened in horror.
“No! What are you doing! I got this, don’t worry.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“I took you out to dinner, it’s my treat. That’s the rules!” she insisted.
Twilight shook her head, no. “Pinkie, it’s really sweet of you, and I appreciate that. But one of us is a Princess who lives in a magical crystal castle. At the very least, consider this a finder’s fee. As a thank you for taking me to your secret special place.” Twilight started counting out the coins. The food wasn’t expensive, surprisingly cheap for how much of it there was actually, but they had ordered a lot.
“I mean... I guess?” Pinkie was hesitant, still.
“I owe you at least that much for such a wonderful evening, okay?”
And that was how she got Pinkie to stop worrying about that, and worry instead about trying to hide the blush that was spreading to the tips of her ears. “Okay.”
Oh, what the heck. In for a bit...
“You know,” she continued idly, still counting out coins, acting as if she didn’t know exactly what she was about to say, “you really do look very smart in that bowtie.” Her eyes flicked up to meet Pinkie’s again, surprise attack!, and she hoped she didn’t look as sly as she felt. “It really brings out the blue in your eyes. It’s nice.”
All her date could do was squeak at that, one short, sharp note. There were no more protests to be made about the cheque tonight, at least.
Twilight didn’t know why she did that, really. Well, she did, she did it because she liked being able to have that effect on Pinkie, and because it seemed like something Pinkie would want to hear. But... Huh. It seemed like there should have been more of a reason to it than that, but now that she thought about it, that actually seemed like a pretty good one.
She really did look very cute with it on.
“Well,” Pinkie gulped, “at least let me walk you home.”
“I’d love the company.”
Pinkie stood out of the booth seat, and offered Twilight a hoof to take as she stepped out of hers. Twilight took it and held it just a second longer than she actually needed to, and then they were out again into the snow, and it had gotten far darker than she had expected.
Just how long had they been talking, she wondered?
A quick look back over her shoulder as she left and she swore she caught Mr. Biscuit swooning after them, but it could have been a trick of the light... Must have been.
Still, Pinkie led the way, and both of them walked together a little closer than they had before.
“Hey, Twilight,” Pinkie tapped her head, “Would you mind...”
“Oh! Sure.” Twilight’s horn glowed. The path before them was much easier to see, as were the snow drifts. And what had Pinkie said on the way here...
Such insolence could not be forgotten! Wa ha ha.
As they walked past a snow drift, Twilight patted down with her magic a perfect little ball. Walking just behind Pinkie gave her the perfect chance to... whup!
Oh.
Oh, she did not expect Pinkie to dodge.
Pinkie stopped in midstep, and Twilight stopped with her. Pinkie’s head slowly turned, and her smile had too many teeth, and was it the reflection of Twilight’s horn glow or was there actually a fire behind her eyes...?
Oh, dear. Yes, it was definitely Twilight’s turn to gulp nervously.
“Twilight~” Pinkie chirped far-too-happily, “What did I say about snowballs?”
“Ahh—”
“You remember, I’m sure. You’ve got a very good memory.”
“... you said you’d destroy me?” Twilight offered helpfully, familiar with the concept of plea bargains.
The judge would have no leniency though.
Whap!
She didn’t even see her hoof move, but she got smacked in the middle of her nose. Twilight turned tail and ran, all crew to battlestations, as Pinkie hoovered snow up and fired snowballs at her at an alarming speed. Like, genuinely worrying.
First thing was first, Twilight dove past a snowbank and ploughed it up into a wall, a barrier. The whack! Whack! Whack! Of a dozen snowballs against it told her she was just in time.
She blind fired with her magic, throwing everything she could at where she thought Pinkie was, but it was no good... She’d have have to peek up over her barrier if she had any hopes of aiming.
Twilight crawled back up to it, raising her head just over the—
A snowball smacked her dead between her eyes, and she flopped on her back. Worse, she didn’t even see where it had come from.
“Gah!” She rolled as three snowballs lobbed high like mortars came smacking down over her, narrowly avoiding them.
“Oh Twilight~” Pinkie hummed from seemingly everywhere at once. Why’d it have to be so dark...? “You’re so cute when you’re scared.”
“I’m not scared!” Twilight lied, badly. Three more snowballs, whap-whap-whap, landed around her, falling from the sky. She had no way to work out what direction they were coming from now...
She backed away, drawing snow around herself in a shield, looking everywhere for a target, a snowball the size of her head primed and at the ready to bowl Pinkie over when she saw—
“BOO!” Pinkie leapt from behind her.
“GAH!” Twilight dropped the snowboulder in shock, her only defense! Another snowball hit her in the chest, then another, and she was down again, and Pinkie was on top of her, holding a big one.
Pinkie just stood over her, hefting the final snowball above Twilight, ready to finish this once and for all. Her smile was too wide, still, and her eyes!
“I surrender!” Twilight declared, throwing her hooves up. Well, it looked more like she was making a snowpegasus actually, but the intent was the same.
“Hrrm...” Pinkie considered it carefully, holding the snowball primed and ready... then, with a twist of her hoof, she dropped it. “Nah.”
And then she leaned in close, and that’s how Twilight had her first kiss, and Pinkie stole hers.
It was only a moment of surprise before Twilight’s eyes fluttered closed, and she leaned up enough out of the snow to return it, but Pinkie pressed her back down. Soon she was just on top of her, the warmth of her body pressed against her a sharp contrast to the cold of the snow below, and Twilight wrapped herself around Pinkie and held her close.
They stayed like that a little while, gasping sharply between breaths. Neither of them experienced, neither of them caring. Finally, they broke off, and just settled with lying there together a moment, both trying to work out what had just happened, both trying to hold the memory tight in their minds...
A deep, giggly part of Twilight realized this was the perfect time to strike. Her horn glowed again, and with the glow she could see Pinkie’s soft eyes, again, the gentle smile. She held the snowboulder up behind the back of her head, and dropped it.
Pinkie dodged. The boulder landed on Twilight’s face instead. Splrkt.
“Nope.” Pinkie smiled, kissing Twilight on her less-snowy cheek. “I win.”
Darn it.
Pinkie hugged Twilight close and tight, having the unfortunate consequence of not letting Twilight wipe the snow out of her face. That was fair, she deserved that. “Not that this isn’t the best,” Pinkie whispered breathlessly in Twilight’s ear, and she shivered in a way that had nothing to do with the cold, “Because it is. This really is the best. But I was walking you home, and it’s really cold out.”
Pinkie stopped whispering, and Twilight kept shivering. Okay, maybe a little bit was because of the cold.
“Yeah. I guess you’re right.”
Pinkie helped lift Twilight back up onto all fours, and they made the rest of the way back to the castle, sides always touching at least a little bit as they did, the rest of the walk made in a comfortable silence. There really wasn’t much more that could be said, was there?
It wasn’t a long walk, and it was over far too quickly.
Twilight was glad to have Pinkie walk her all the way to the door, she found. It was just little thoughts like that, the little happy thoughts, that made her remember she’d made the right choice. And as she opened the door to go inside, she realized that would be the end of this night.
She saw the same realization on Pinkie, and it wasn’t quite a sadness at that thought. There was disappointment, true, but just a kind of appreciation that it had happened at all. That it could have turned out a different way, but it didn’t. And a fierce desire not to let the other see the sadness, to not look overeager.
But so much had just happened that Twilight was still figuring out, was still working out. Here she stood, Pinkie waiting for her to say goodbye, and to leave them both alone to their thoughts for the night. But they worked things out so much better as a team, didn’t they?
And Twilight was curious.
“Actually, Pinkie,” she started, unsure. “It really is quite cold out tonight. Would you rather stay here, just for tonight, and I’ll get a fire going?” Frankly, she had far too many fireplaces. It would be a disservice not to use them.
“Well...” Pinkie started slowly, looking at Twilight curiously, as if she were a magic-eye puzzle... An offer that changes in meaning when you observe it. “I do have a whole bottle of cider you could help me with...”
Twilight smiled and stood aside from the door, inviting Pinkie inside. “Well then,” she said, “sounds like a date.”
