"Spike! Guess what just came in the mail?"
Spike looked up from his milk-sodden cornflakes. A giddy alicorn grinned at him, holding a thick, white envelope in a levitation field.
"Wo'?" he mumbled around a gooey mouthful of cereal. He swallowed. "Rarity's written consent to marriage?"
Twilight's grin fell into a blank stare.
Spike blinked. "To me. Not you."
"Oh. No." Her grin returned, and she bounded up to Spike, shoving the envelope into his face. "It's a zoning permit!"
Spike pushed it away, raising an eyebrow. "Yippie. We getting a pool or something?"
"Even better!" Twilight's wings shook with excitement. "You know how the spot where the library used to be has been a smoldering blast crater ever since Tirek came along?"
"I'd actually forgotten until you reminded me just now." Finding that he no longer had an appetite, Spike listlessly pushed his cereal away.
"Well, I figured, since nopony's using the land right now, I'd petition for the right to build a house on it," an oblivious Twilight continued. "The zoning board just got back to me! After this, I just need a building permit, and then...!"
She pranced in place, ruffling her wings and giggling excitedly.
"Why do you even need city approval to build a house?" Spike frowned. "Aren't you literal royalty now?"
"Checks and balances exist for a reason, Spike. You know that. Now..." She cleared her throat. "Drumroll, please."
Spike sighed, and began rapidly drumming his hands against the table.
Twilight tore open the envelope and shook out a thick stack of goldenrod papers. Her eyes scanned through them rapidly, shuffling from one to the next, her grin melting away with every line she read.
"Denied?!" Twilight dropped the papers onto the table with a gasp. "But – but why would––"
Spike snatched them up and rifled through them quickly. "Apparently, there are some concerns about what Tirek's 'unholy cataclysm of arcane energy' may have done to the land. Worries about a possible sinkhole..." He shrugged. "Well, I could have told you that."
Twilight released a long, loud groan and tried to slam her face into the table. Distress threw off her aim, however, and instead she struck the base of her horn against the table's edge. Pain shot through its length, lancing deep into her head.
"Ow! Ow! On top of everything else, ow!"
Spike hopped out of his chair and pitter-pattered away to root through the freezer. He found what he was looking for – a cold, lumpy bag of frozen peas – and pitter-pattered back to Twilight, pressing the bag against her forehead.
"...Thank you," Twilight mumbled, embarrassed.
"I was planning on cooking these peas tonight, anyway. Thank you for helping to thaw them."
"You don't need to thaw frozen peas to cook them, Spike."
"Think I don't know that? I'm trying to make you feel less dumb, you dummy." The bag crinkled as Spike adjusted his grip on it. "Why'd you want to build a house over our old one, anyway?"
"It's..." Twilight placed her hoof on the bag, alongside Spike's hand. "It's silly. You don't wanna hear it."
"I wouldn't ask if I didn't. Besides, if you don't tell me now, it'll knock around in your head, soaking up all your crazy until it's a big dust bunny of insanity. That never goes well, so..." He poked her in the side. "C'mon. Save us both the time, and spill."
Twilight sighed, shutting her eyes. "I had this dream a while back," she said softly. "I woke up in my old bed, in my old home, surrounded by my old collection of musty old books. I walked onto my old balcony, and watched the sunrise, just like I..."
She stopped, and opened her eyes to look into Spike's. "Like we used to, back when we first moved here. And everything was just... just right, you know? Exactly like I remembered it. The sights, and the view, and even the way the library smelled – that sappy, wooden scent. Then I woke up for real, in my opulent yet drafty and somewhat barren crystal friendship palace, and..."
"Reality disappointed you?"
Twilight snorted. "Doesn't it always?"
"Sometimes. Not always. Then again... heck, I've had plenty of dreams that ended too soon for my taste too."
"Let me guess. Ice cream and Rarity?"
"Rarity made out of ice cream. Two great things that're even better together." Spike paused, releasing his hold on the bag of peas. "Were you gonna move out of the castle? If you got that house built?"
"No, the castle's great. Took some getting used to, but it's great. I'd always keep my permanent residence here. It just... would have been nice, is all. To have a place to go where I could get the old view back. Every once in awhile."
Spike's hand – the one that wasn't ice cold and numb – found Twilight's shoulder, and squeezed gently. "Want me to write a frivolous letter of complaint to the Mayor?"
Despite herself, Twilight snickered. "Would you please?"
Spike squeezed again and stepped away, headed for the door. Inspiration struck suddenly, though, and he stopped, turning back to Twilight.
"You know, we don't have to have a house over that old plot of land to watch the sunrise from there."
Twilight looked quizzically at him.
"How about you and I wake up early tomorrow morning?" said Spike. "Hike out to our old place, float up to where the balcony used to be, and watch the sun come up together? It wouldn't be exactly like it was, I know, but... if nothing else, at least the view'd be the same. Right?"
"You'd..." A smile, warm and somewhat teasing, spread across her face. "You'd be willing to wake up that early for me?"
"Don't say I never do nothin' for you." Spike smirked. "And don't spread it around. If people know I'm willing to get up before dawn, it'll completely ruin my whole 'wake not the slumbering dragon' vibe."
Twilight laughed and pushed the paperwork away, shifting the bag of peas on her head.
"I wouldn't dream of it."
