When Spike the Dragon tottered down to the kitchen at seven in the morning to make breakfast for Twilight, he wasn’t expecting to find the refrigerator door open.
He also wasn’t expecting to find the lights turned on and a box of cook-’em-yourself miniature waffles torn open and lying next to the sink, a small pile of crumbs, and a plugged-in toaster. And he definitely wasn’t expecting to find Rainbow Dash rummaging through the cupboards.
Processing the scene took about as much time as it took for Rainbow Dash to grab a bag of miniature chocolate chips, root through a nearby drawer for a butter knife, haphazardly poke a hole in the bag, and tear the rest of the package open with her teeth.
Given the circumstances, Spike’s reaction was perfectly reasonable.
“What.”
Rainbow Dash set the bag down on the counter next to the toaster, glanced at Spike, then continued rooting through the cupboards. “ ‘Morning, Spike. You guys have any vanilla ice cream? I checked the freezer, but I couldn’t find anything.”
“It’s probably behind the bottles of frozen minestrone soup? I’m pretty sure we’re not out.” Spike frowned. “Wait —”
Rainbow Dash grabbed a nearby butter dish, opened the lid and stabbed the butter stick inside it with her knife. “That explains it. You’ve got like fifteen things of the stuff in there. How much soup do you two go through every day?”
“I was just trying out a new recipe. Twilight seemed to like it, so I figured I’d make extra.”
“Cool.”
“Also, what in Equestria are you doing in our castle?”
“Making breakfast.” Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “Duh.”
“Out of ice cream and — wait, that’s not the point! Why did you break into our castle to eat our food?” Green wisps of smoke drifted out of his nose as he puffed out his chest and glared at Rainbow Dash.
“I’m not eating it. Double duh.” Rainbow Dash waved her hoof dismissively, opened up another cupboard, grabbed a plate with her teeth and set it next to the kitchen sink. “Where’s the strawberry jam?”
“Next to the chocolate sauce.” Spike gritted his teeth. “You still need to tell me —”
“Sweet, almost forgot to get that! Thanks, Spike.” Rainbow Dash pivoted, flew to the fridge, grabbed the bottle of chocolate sauce and carried it back towards the toaster.
“Rainbow Dash.”
“It’s for Twilight, okay? Geez. Mystery solved!” As if to punctuate her statement, the toaster dinged. Two not-so-frozen waffles popped into the air, which Rainbow Dash caught with her right wing and deposited on the plate. “Could you go grab the ice cream and jam while I prep these?”
Spike crossed his arms and scowled. “Not until you explain to me what’s going on!”
“Wake up on the wrong side of your treasure hoard much? I’m making her breakfast in bed!” With all the grace of a surgeon drunk on ten mugs of cider, Rainbow Dash smeared butter on the waffles and clanged the lid down on the butter jar. “Now could you please get me the ice cream?”
Spike paused, groaned in exasperation, walked over to the kitchen table and dragged a chair towards the freezer. “Okay, that explains everything and nothing at all at the same time. Why are you making her breakfast in bed?”
“I heard she was sick, so I figured she’d like comfort food.” Rainbow Dash grabbed the chocolate chip bag with her hooves and blithely poured it over the buttered waffles, scattering chips across the counter and onto the floor.
“Oh.” Spike hopped on the chair, opened the freezer door, pushed aside some jars, and grabbed the tub of ice cream.
“You got it yet?”
“Right here!” Spike pulled out the tub, shut the fridge door, hopped down from the chair, and trotted back to Rainbow Dash. “So why are you making her breakfast in bed now?”
“Because she’s sick. I told you that already.” Rainbow Dash grabbed the tub, set it on the counter and rummaged about in the utensils cabinet for a spoon.
“I mean — why not make her something the other times she’s been sick?”
“Can you remember the last time she was legitimately sick with a virus? Staying up for three days because she got wrapped up in her research doesn’t count. You gonna get the jam or what?”
“I’m getting it, I’m getting it!” Spike jogged over to the fridge and paused. “And there was, uh...no, wait, let’s see…” Spike mumbled to himself, counting out numbers on his claws and poking his tongue out of his mouth as Rainbow Dash spooned ice cream onto the waffles.
“Huh.”
“What?”
“I actually, uh. I can’t remember the last time Twilight was sick from the flu.”
“Told you,” Rainbow Dash said, tossing the dirty spoon into the sink and resealing the ice cream tub. “It’s the first time I can remember her being like this, too.”
“Still.” Spike reached into the fridge and pulled out the jar of strawberry jam. “Why’d you decide to come out and make breakfast for her?”
“‘Cause I don’t have the flu and she does. Besides, if there’s going to be some sort of flu going around, I’d rather have ponies think about me in case I get sick. I mean, ponies as awesome as me shouldn’t get sick, but hey. It could happen.” Rainbow Dash wandered over to the fridge, opened the freezer and crammed the tub of ice cream inside.
“That’s...surprisingly altruistic of you?”
“All true what now?” Rainbow Dash shut the door and stared down at Spike.
“Generous?”
“Nah. That’s Rarity’s thing.” Rainbow Dash smirked and half-rubbed, half-noogied the top of Spike’s head. “And I guess your thing is using big words, huh?”
“I mean, I hang around Twilight.” Spike turned towards the counter and groaned. “Ugh. Couldn’t you have tried to not spill stuff on the floor?”
“Yeah, next time Twilight gets sick I’ll try to remember. Which is probably never, but whatever.” Rainbow Dash grabbed the jam jar as Spike jogged to the other side of the kitchen. By the time Spike returned with a dustpan and a small broom, she had flown over towards the messy breakfast plate, yanked the lid open and dug the dirty butter knife into the pulpy red mass of jam. “What do you think? Does it look tasty so far?”
Spike came back towards the counter and peered at the sugary mess. “It looks kind of like an ice cream sandwich.”
“That’s the point! But Rainbow Dash style. Like, 200% cooler!” Flapping into the air again, Rainbow Dash grabbed the jam jar in one hoof and the chair’s backrest in another and sailed off to the other side of the kitchen. “Look, Spike, let me level with you, okay?”
“Uh, sure?” Spike replied as he bent down to sweep up the errant chocolate chips.
“I’m not good at health stuff for other ponies. I’m not an egghead, I’m not some sort weird alternate-diet-loving pony, I don’t do local organic kindly-raised food or whatever. I can’t do that. But I know that even when you’re sick, having something junky and delicious can be a nice way to get your mind off of things. If nothing else, it’s something I can do for her, right? That’s better than nothing.”
“I guess you’re right,” Spike agreed as he hoisted the chip-laden dustpan and carried it over to the trash bin.
“Told you. Hey, do me a favor, okay?” Rainbow Dash set the chair down, swooped over to the fridge, opened the door and stuffed the jam jar inside.
Spike dumped the chocolate chips in the bin. “What is it?”
“I’m gonna go give this to Twi and wing out to Wonderbolts Training Camp. I figured that the trainees might want to see a professional show them the ropes. You can clean this up, right?”
“Wait —”
“Thought so. See you later!” Rainbow Dash grabbed the sugary mass and plate like a hoofball running back, spread her wings and zoomed out of the kitchen. Before Spike could say another word, Rainbow Dash was gone. The only sign she had been there in the first place was a stray blue feather, drifting lethargically towards the ground.
Spike turned back towards the kitchen counter and mentally corrected himself.
The only signs that Rainbow Dash had been there were the stray feather, the dirty utensils in the sink, tiny chocolate chips and waffle crumbs scattered across the counter like bits of confetti at a royal parade, the still-open and half empty box of toaster waffles next to the sink, and errant drops of ice cream splattered in an intermittent trail from the counter to the kitchen door.
For a second he stared at the hygenic atrocity, unable to speak.
Two options presented themselves, neither of which involved failing to clean up the mess. The first was to shut the door and say all the nasty words he could think of, particularly the ones he could apply to Rainbow Dash. The other was to shut the door, calmly clean up the mess, and internalize his frustration until it gave him a stomachache.
Then a third idea struck him.
Instead of internalizing or externalizing anger, Spike picked his way around the drops of ice cream and hopped up onto the counter. Then he grabbed two more toaster waffles out of the box, stuck them in the toaster, and waited.
