Five Crazy Trials to Date Pinkie Pie

Chapters

Prologue
I - The Proposal
II - Two Hundred and Fifty Rules
III - Don't Touch Me
IV - Customer Service
V - Cleaning Up
VI - Steadfast Coffee
VII - Thiller
VIII - Intelligence and Kindness
IX - A Mission from Mayor Mare
X - A Meeting at Midnight
XI - Letter to the Lost
XII - Letters to Sisters
XIII - The Promise
XIV - Don't Be Afraid
XV - The Three Dragons

Prologue

~ Ø ~

Prologue

I've been waiting my whole life for someone to guide me.

Pony or dragon—it doesn't really matter. I'd take a griffon if they were wise enough, if they were strong enough, if they were enough of all the enoughs that I wanted in life. There's no way I could state them all; I don't even know them all.

All I know is that, for most of my life, I've lacked... something. It's different from knowing what you want, because there's direction and guidance toward it. But lacking something? You don't know what it is, where it went, or how to get it at all.

Someone must know what I'm lacking. They have to be better than me to know it, and if that's the case, why would they put up with me in the first place? Why would they give me the answer?

I'm rambling now.

I tend to do that a lot.

Might as well go to a bar.

Maybe start a fight.

“Aw, c'mon!” I cried, putting up my fists. “Can't we talk about this? Or better yet, can we talk about your sister's flank instead? How it jiggles when she kicks a tree and—oh shit!”

Big Mac's nostrils flared just as he cocked back his forelegs. He had it curled around a mug. He threw said mug at me, though I ducked to the left. There was the sound of glass shattering. Looking behind me, I saw the drink I'd paid for dripping from the counter of the bar.

“Five bits!” I growled, turning around. “You're paying for—“

It felt like someone shot a battering ram into my stomach, then lit a fuse of dynamite behind it. Big Mac's stupid head smashed into my stomach, my scales useless for absorbing the impact as Mac threw his full weight into the assault.

My feet slipped forward, and my back fell, well, backward. Everything became blurry. My ears started ringing. Big Mac, that big dumb red blur, sat on me, hovering in the air like an even dumber cloud of scarlet among the grey blurriness.

He held something red in the air.

Blinking, I saw that he held up his hoof.

“Wait! Just... wait a second!” Nausea tried to interest my guts into puking themselves out. “You wanna beat me? Fine by me! But please, please go for the back of the head?” I began to roll my head to the left. “My face already has enough going against it.”

Something soft laid on my cheek. It pushed my head straight. Straight into the rocketing hoof descending from the clouds beyond, which went straight for my face. It went straight for my face repeatedly—which then repeated almost endlessly.

Mac's right hook made me look left; his left hook made me want to puke. Sometimes, getting into a good rhythm, the constant punches could keep my head stuck in the middle.

“Ack! Tha... that's it!” His right hoof slammed for my check, but by the tilt of my head, crashed in and through the wood of the floor. He slouched off to the side of me, allowing me to raise my right arm out from under him, bring it up over him, and pummel my elbow through his mane and onto his head.

The first strike should always be one of common courtesy.

“Back of the head! How'd ya like that?” I said, almost laughing. Mac's frame slammed into the ground while I sat back. “You may start seeing things, but at least your sister will still be seeing a handsome face when you get home.”

I blinked and missed it. Like a red blur that could outrace the one of a train, Mac leapt up at me, smashing through the wood of the floor and freeing his hoof, all fuelled by the rage my words had evoked. In another life, I'd have to try being a writer.

Big Mac slammed his head into my stomach again. He had enough force to lift me to the air, which got me back to my feet, though the only direction they went was backward—and from sliding instead of walking. He practically carried me in the air as he charged forward.

Of course, I kept slamming my elbow into the back of his head. Maybe I could get his brain to do a little jiggle from inside his skull? Because it sure as heck didn't stop or hurt him in any other capacity.

“Oack!” My back and spine met the counter the way a train meets the side of a mountain—only the train whistled while I whimpered. “What... what are you trying to do? Make me handicapped like Granny Smith was?”

That one killed me.

I didn't see the punch coming, but my chin was kind enough to feel it for me. Greatest upper-cut ever delivered, and unfortunately, it was addressed to me. My head flew back, so much so, that another inch and it would have torn clean off.

Good move, Big Mac—just a shame momentum hurts just as much.

By the time my head had flown all the way back, I had tightened the muscles in my stomach and flew the sucker back forward, bringing my forehead down on his. A sickening smack echoed across the empty room.

Big Mac groaned as his body dropped. His hooves scrapped against my thighs, holding himself up against them. “Aren't... you just.... touchy...” I said, panting. He stumbled to the right of me, resting one hoof on a stool and the other on the counter. “Just like your—“

Shattering glass rang in my ears again, only this time, it rang from in front of me rather than behind. Shards and dust sprinkled over my face while liquid splashed in my eyes. For a second, I was blind. “Oh, c'mon! Ten bits now?”

I stumbled to the right, hopefully away from the counter and the stools, and decided to test my luck: I shook my head. The bile curdling in my stomach had a new ingredient added as a result. Opening my eyes despite the constant stinging, all I saw were bright, overpowering lights and blotch of stuff that raised the vomit inside of me.

“That's it,” I shouted, whipping around in a circle—I really was trying to entice the idea of vomiting on my opponent. “Come here!”

I charged at the red blur, towering only an inch over it, bringing my claws around its assumed neck. Continuing with my charge, weighed and slowed down by the heavy addition, I rose the red blur into the air and, spotting a green one underneath it, slammed Mac into what I hope was the pool table.

The snap of balls shooting away made me smile.

The claw at Mac's throat kept him down, but to be safe, I hunkered over his body, weighing down his limbs. He struggled anyways. I used my free claw to beat that handsome face. Lucky, if I was lucky, maybe I could have beaten his high-cheek bones back to inside his skull.

Unlike me, he groaned at the punches, and with each one, the red blur cleared and became a red stallion. Next to the table, cues stood tall in their holders. Risking the moment and the movement, I reached, curled my digits around one's top, and yanked it back over him.

Its length hovered between our two faces.

I grinned. “Fancy some wood?”

Big Mac replied by knocking his forehead into the cue, the sheer force cracking it into two. The beginning half dropped to the ground, drumming against the floor as it fought to become still.

“Why you!” With what was left of the cue in my claw, I slapped it against his cheek. “I broke your glass only when you threw it at me! Now, what am I going to use?”

Big Mac smirked. “Try usin' this!”

What was up with this stallion and my stomach? His rear legs bucked my stomach with none of the care he showed to the strongest of trees. For a second, my bowels and lungs switched placed, and my breath smelled of something foul.

I stumbled back a few steps, trying to remember how to breathe again, though I settled on wheezing. Big Mac fell from the table, landing on all four of his hooves, each one erect and keeping him tall despite all the blood—or I was just mistaking the color of his coat again.

He glared at me. His eyes were sharp. They had a glint unable to be mistaken. It was fierce. It was strong. It was everything he was, everything he stood to be, his character all assembled into a gaze and glare.

We were both dead—I happened to show it better. Bleeding and panting, legs buckling and knees wobbly. Blinking was dangerous, for there was a chance my eyes would open for a very long time afterward. We both stood, we both looked at each other, and like all the times before, we only had one move left to decide the fight.

We stumbled like true males toward each other—or that's something I liked to believe that true males do. I was never told otherwise how true males act; I was never around enough true males to know what they were about.

In a way, Big Mac was the closet a stallion got to being a true male.

Maybe... that's the reason I fought him so many times?

Because we stumbled to each other, feet and hooves dragging, fists and hooves again ready to punch—eyes always locked. Not once did we look away. Not once did we whimper during this scene. We coughed and groaned, spitting blood and getting ready for the end.

And there was never an ending where I was the winner.

“Come here, loser,” I wheezed the words out from my burning lungs, everything hazy around the silhouette of my opponent. “Let's give you a handsome face!”

We cocked back our arms, and standing just a foot away, sent our fists and hooves flying. Our arms glided one over the other, the two trajectories missing by inches. Seconds later, sweet victory came from my fist. Seconds before that, bitter defeat crying from my cheek.

“Cross... counter.” I fell forward, and so did he, our chests meeting so free, each heaving. “Damn.”

Our legs gave out over a second, but our punches kept to their destinations. On the ground, we leaned against the other, waiting. We waited. We kept on waiting. The battle was over, but the victor was not yet found. The loser would be when the first cheek was set free.

And, of course, that was me.

“I... really do... suck...” My arms dropped to my sides, and in my defeat, I laid further into his hoof. My teeth chattered. “...don't... I...”

Big Mac flared his nostrils. With the hoof that won him victory, he pushed me back, watching behind passive eyes as crashed against the ground. There was a thud. I was a thud. He got up with a thud, many more when he walked, taking a seat at the stool before the counter.

“Finished?”

Another voice. Not his, of course, or else it wouldn't be another voice. It was another voice. I couldn't focus on the other voice. I was hard to focus on anything. Everything was blurry. I tried to think about thinking and felt sick in the bright lights instead.

“I reckon so.” Now that was a voice I recognized. “How say you?”

“Draw?”

“Draws don't have losers,” said the other voice. “And losers pay.”

“I know the rules.” I coughed, bringing my claws over my chest. “Can't we split the cost?”

“Depends on your opponent,” the other voice said, becoming muffled on the last word. “Do you consent to the draw? You may finish the fight if you disagree.”

I coughed louder if only to hide the sound of thuds from my ears.

“No need.” The only thud that came was a hoof slamming against the counter. “I'll be back here again sometime tomorrow. Afternoon if I can find the time. I'll patch the ground and replace the glass.”

“I've got bits!' I almost laughed the words. “Whole lot of 'em. Big bits. Many bits. Twilight's bits turned into my bits.”

“Ya better checked the bits between yer legs ta see if they're still there.”

“Har—ack!—har.” I closed my eyes, cracking my neck left and night. “Aren't you... just... oh, r-rich...”

The world slipped away.

“Mr. Spike, please be so kind as to wake up,” the other voice said, and this voice, I was coming to hate. “We don't run a hotel here. See yourself outside to sleep and vomit, and please, do it in that order, or else you may sleep in your vomit.”

“I'm not sleeping.” I opened my eyes, adjusting to the brightness. “Just... breaking the world record for the most amount of blinks in a minute.” I rolled onto my stomach, something cracking that wasn't my neck. “Must have come close if ya thought they were closed the whole time.”

Across from me was the bar. Big Mac sat on the stool. Behind the counter, a bartender rose from below, a brown pegasus wearing a black vest. He'd grown a thick mustache accompanied with a thicker accent.

“But if there's ever a poll on this fight,” I said, stumbling to a stool, “put the vote in favor of me winning, will ya?”

“Not polite ta lie,” Big Mac said, watching me with one eye as I took a seat. “Ya haven't won a fight in yer whole life. Opened your mouth plenty of times. Legs came in handy when the words didn't.” He looked straight on. “Face it. Scraps just weren't yer callin' in life.”

“Still a heck of a way to kill time, though.” I let my eyes drift shut, taking a second-long respite, exhaling my lingering frights. “I was close, too, with all those knocks to the back of your head. You must have a headache of something fierce.”

“Only from yer yappin'.” His voice was joined by something ringing—or maybe my ears were playing tricks again. “Lil miss Appleboom knows how ta give a proper noogie. Ya could take sum notes when yer straight again.”

“You should try talking more,” I replied. “You'd have more ponies laughing at you too.”

We kept silent for only a second, the silence shattered by hoofsteps, a paper slipped between my claws.

“May I suggest closing your eyes upon the viewing of the tab?” the bartender said to me, wiping the counter with a cloth to collect lingering liquids. “Third brawl this month. Rates increase with each one. That pouch around your waist may not be enough.”

“Whatever Twilight has left in the castle should cover the rest.” I reached down, undoing the string around my waist, lifting the pouch to the counter. I dropped it, bits clanking, some slithering onto the table. “Use these to pay for whatever my friend wants.”

The bartender wiped the end of the counter but stopped. He rose, staring at me. “Friend, sir?”

“Yeah,” I replied, looking to my right. “Big red thing sitting next to me. Get him whatever he wants.”

“Brandy,” Mac grumbled with his head down. “Top self and seven shots.”

I glared at him. “Really? Running me dry here?”

Mac kept his head down.

“Alright then.” I faced the bartender as he approached me. “Get us both seven shots of that stuff.” I glared down at the pouch, watching brown hooves pick it up and bring it down beneath the counter. “Didn't like that pouch anyways. Or my left kidney for that matter.”

“Yer kidney will be fine.” I looked for to Big Mac, who, for some reason, was looking back at me.

“Sudden motivation from you,” I said. 'Why's that?”

“Cause yer a lightweight,” he replied. “Third glass won't even touch yer lips neither.”

“Pffft! Says you.”

Glass clinked before I could blink. Turning back, three rows of shot glasses lined the counter, first two being three, the last and top one being only one. I took that one, lifting it to my lips, but not tilting it back.

Instead, I held it between Big Mac and I. Keeping it there, he raised his glass to my own, and clicking them together, we brought them back to our mouths. I dumped the liquid inside my own; It took the curling of my feet to suppress the urge to spit the vile liquid out—even more so when I swallowed the stuff.

But I did it.

And it was like a terrible-tasting fire travelling down my throat.

“Got a possible concussion?” I said in a mock voice, getting my mind off the taste on my tongue. “Drink heavily! The best thing you can do for it.” I looked over at Big Mac to see his muzzle on his table.

The guy had passed out!

At least, that's what I thought, until his mouth opened, and he took three glasses into his mouth. His head shot back and the shots along with it.

“You win.” I didn't even make a fuss about it, using my palm to slide him my six shots left. “You win everything! Heavy weight with both kind of shots. You're the kind of stallion that wins at winning itself!” I chuckled. He chuckled. We chuckled. “So how about it then? You winning at spring harvest?”

“Can't complain.” Big Mac cupped a small shot with his big hooves, where he then stared into the liquid. “Bit busier than what he had last year. Money's tight, so the help's low.” He lifted his hooves. “Morale ain't any better with Granny gone.”

I felt bad. I felt terrible. I felt anything and everything related to the word guilt—even its distant cousins. My mouth didn't have a filter—what came, came, and other put up with it. Or they left, and that was a friendship not meant to be. That's the way I lived my life, but sometimes, that results in insults about a dead grandmother, one related to my only real friend.

“I...heard about that.” I didn't want to do. The very idea made me sick. But I picked up one of the shots I'd offer, catching his gaze while I was at it, drawing it back to my own. I rose my glass to his. “To the memory of Granny Smith.”

Big Mac glared at me for a second, like he was checking for a ruse, but gave up a second later, for his glass clinked against mine, and both of them went down our respective mouths. The alcohol made my tongue dry up, and yet, my digits plucked another glass.

“And to her work ethic!” I exclaimed. “Which lives on in her kin!”

Another clink of our glasses. Another drink. Another reason to throw up.

But I refused to and showed no sign of it.

“Uck. Hmm. So.” Clearing my throat, I banged on my chest. “Need some legs tomorrow then? Don't have four like you, but I can offer my arms as well if you like.” Something suddenly smacked against the back of my skull, like a miner was inside of it, picking through the bone toward freedom. “Auuugh. Doubt I'll be there before sunrise though.”

“Appreciate ta offer, but I reckon we'll do just fine.” Big Mac shook his head. “Got enough workers to watch over. One too many if ya ask me.” He didn't bother with hooves with the next shot, collecting it in his mouth, tilting it up then slamming it back on the wood. “Young colt from ta previous season. Nice fellow. Smart enough. Got a bigger mouth than you.”

“You two better not become best friends.”

“Yer my one and only.” Big Mac snickered. “But that boy doesn't even have a lick of charm. I swear, he knows how ta do ta work—just don't see him workin' often is all.”

“I get ya.” I chuckled, and with my mouth open, did my best not to vomit. “Maybe I should drop by anyways. Give that kid something to be afraid of.” I split my lips enough to expose my fangs. “Let him know a dragon's watching when he's slacking.”

Big Mac tilted his head. “Ya know of a real dragon close ta here?”

“Shove off.”

We drank for a while in silence. Sometimes that's all we did. Not a pony around that would describe Mac as a talker. We were opposites in that way. I don't recall how we became friends. Proper friends. The only friend I really have.

“Any luck with Miss Rarity?”

I shook my head. “Tried seeing her last night.”

“Stay the night?”

“Wouldn't be here this afternoon if I did.” I took a second to scratch the back my neck. I don't know why, but it always made me feel like a kid when I did that. Whenever Rarity was the subject, I always felt like a kid. “Stuttered like an idiot! Tried inviting her to this bar, late last night, with everything planned out!” I curled my claw into a fist and beat it into the side of my head. “All that time in my bedroom planning just for my tongue to get tied!”

I sighed. “I had it all worked out.”

“Yet nothin' worked out?”

“We walked for a bit,” I replied. “Walked her home from the train station. She just got back in town. We didn't talk much—she rambled about the show and all that.” My heart beat as the memory played again; the proximity to white fur, even imaginary, always made me shivered. “I did my best. I really did! I tried putting my arm over her shoulder and I... and I just couldn't!”

I hated myself.

“Doesn't help that I'm helpless at reading the air.” I crossed my arms over the counter, sinking into them. “It feels like we have something special. The way she talks, how she walks so close to me...” I slammed a fist into the counter, hearing the clatter of jumping glasses. “But that's what she does! She makes everypony feel like they have something special with her.”

“I understand ya.”Something soft dropped on my shoulder, and when I looked up, I saw the same hoof beat the crud outta me. “Can't say I always understand Miss Rarity to well. She's a good gal, but... I could never be certain of her.” He shook his head, his green eyes settling on me from beneath his blond mane. “Have ya ever given any thought on givin' up? On Rarity's maybe not being the one for you?”

“That's a scary world to think of.”

“Ya could always try shootin' for a different star.”

“Not many stars twinkling for a dragon.” I almost raised my claw to push away the hoof, but really, the contact was something I needed badly. “Ponies don't get off to risking their tongues against fangs. Dating around is just... not for me, y'know?”

“Ain't true.”

“Aw, kill it, Mac.” I pointed to the remaining glasses. “Ditch the prep-talk and down those last shots.”

“I ain't foolin' you none.” The hoof lifted off my shoulder, taking to the glasses on the counter, curling around them. “Most mares would take off at the sight of you.” He lifted the collection of shots and poured them into his mouth, like they were syrup instead of booze. “But!” He slammed the collection of glasses back on the counter before he turned to stare at me. “Most mares ain't Pinkie Pie.”

“Pinkie Pie?” The name hurt my head almost as much as the drinks. Recalling the memory of her caused me to realize just how fast time was passing. “The heck are you on about, Mac?”

“She'd date a freak like you” Big Mac arched his back, letting me hear all the kinks there popping. “Mare will date anypony... anypony crazy enough ta play her games.” He sat straight once more. “Plenty of crazy folks in this town, let me tell you, but not one crazy enough to survive a week of her trails.”

“Trials and Pinkie Pie?” I said, shaking my head. “You're talking nonsense. Ha! So much for you being a heavyweight.”

“I ain't drunk.” Big Mac glared at me. “Ya mean ya really don't know about it?”

“I will know about it,” I replied, “when you start telling me whatever the heck you're on about.”

“Geeze.” Big Mac leaned back. “Seems like a year or so since she started the silly thing.” He chuckled. “Crazy mare must have wanted some fun, or somthin' or other.”

I rolled my eyes. For a stallion of few words, Mac could be a pain in the butt when it came to getting to the point of things. I loved him. I really did. You get him hooked on a subject, and you'll forget the sound of silence—granted, if nopony else was around. He had my attention hooked now, but was heading off in the wrong direction.

“Can we back to when this was about me?”

Big Mac glanced over at me for a long while. His expression was torn, eyes glinting, lips straight, breathing shallow. Few times he went to say something only for nothing to come out. I waited for him—he was the only one who waited for me.

“Yer wastin' away, Spike.” Big Mac sat up on his stool, holding up his forehooves. “And I mean no offense by it! Just the truth.”

“Aw, c'mon!” I threw up my claws and shook my head. “You're gonna hit me with a cheap shot now? I'm doing just fine, thank ya!”

“Fine and in fights.” Big Mac lowered his forehooves. “Arguin' for the sake of it—ya got me really hooked today, I hope ya know that?” He paused to breathe, breathing heavily. “Making a comment like that. About my sister no less! Your friend as well!”

I sighed. “You know I didn't mean it.”

“And that's the worst part!” Big Mac exclaimed. “Ya say things ya don't mean! Ya get in fights ya can't win! Ya say anything that'll come out of that twisted brain of yours without no filter!” The counter creaked when he slammed his forehooves into it. “Yer bored and alone! It's why you're so reckless.”

“Reckless and entertaining,” I said, leaning over to him. “And last I checked, that's what you liked most about me.” I curled my claws into fists. “So what if I got nothing going on for me? I clean that castle! I help with princess duties!” I sighed. “Just... don't have much going on besides that.”

“Yer in yer damn bedroom all the time,” Big Mac said, catching my gaze. “Reading and pacing and doin' whatever else late at night.” He shook his head. “Ya must be getting sick of all that by now, right?”

We kept gazing into each other's eyes. I wanted to tell him then and there that he was wrong, that he was inventing stuff. My life was simple and easy and I was content with it. There were bad times. But who doesn't lay awake thinking in the middle of the night at least once in their lives?

Or... every night, rather.

“Alright... alright!” I looked away from the stallion. “So being alone and reckless has me feeling a little low. Not like I got much choice at the moment, not when Rarity doesn't even know I'm interested in her.”

“You'd still be doomed even if she were ta know!” Big Mac exclaimed. “Yer whole life was spent around mares, but never with one!” Metal clanged from the right. “Rarity's a mare of experience, and ain't got some!”

“What should I do then!?” I glared back at him. “Just give up and be lonely in my room? Fantasize about all the stuff that I can't have?” My fists beat into the counter. “Anypony ever tell you how great you are with advice!?”

“Only when I'm done givin' it!” Big Mac replied with his chest still heaving. We both were heated and ready to go for another round, and at the slightest twitch, one of us would owe the bar a whole lot more money. “So sit straight and keep that trap of yers shut!”

I glared at him. Oh, how I glared at him! I hoped it was intimidating. In my heart that was beating far too quickly for its own good, I hoped that I made him scared, afraid, something! But whatever he was, whatever he felt, it didn't change this one thing about me.

When I was scared, I tried to be scary.

“I'm not sitting straight.”

Big Mac glared at me back some more. My heart pounded. I hoped that he couldn't hear it.

“Ya curled into yerself for this last little while, Spike.” Big Mac exhaled, steam almost wiping from his breath. “And there ain't no shame in that. But you've been inside yerself for longer than ya like to admit, and it hasn't done ya a whole lot of good in return.”

I also exhaled from my mouth, feeling a weight being lifted from my lungs. Everything in my body shouted that I was being attacked, that I needed to defend myself, and if it was anyone else, that mouth of mine would be going off.

But this was Big Mac.

And Big mac was always right.

“Ya gotta start learnin' ta put yerself out there.” Big Mac laid his hoof on my shoulder. “Stop all this fightin' and mouthin' off. Talk to ponies. Date some mares! Get experience under yer belt. Ya always struck me as a guy wantin' somethin... who just don't know what he wants.”

I tore my eyes away from Big Mac. I kept breathing through my mouth—it helped with the weight in my lungs. Everything felt heated and my stomach hollow. Closing my eyes, I used my mouth to speak, “I know what I want. Her name is Rarity.”

“And no amount of think' will get you Rarity!” Big Mac pulled back his hoof. “Yer just wastin' time in that head of yours! Made ya bitter too.” He shook his head. “Do yerself a date somepony! They'll teach ya what ya need to know.” He got up from his seat, taking a step away. “Maybe mellow ya away while yer at it.”

I looked over my shoulder at him. “Where are you going?”

“Home!” Big Mac began toward the door. “Better there than wastin' my time here.”

“W-Wait!” I called and reached a claw out to him. My heart leaped when he stopped a few feet from the door. “Are you... are you really sure dating a friend is the best idea right now?”

Big Mac turned around. “Unless ya can find another mare sayin' yes about now, then Pinkie's yer best bet.” He nudged his head to the right. “To her, it's a game. Yer good at those, remember?” He stepped forward. “None of you will get hurt. Ya'll just entertain her, and she'll teach you about female anatomy.”

“But didn't you say her games were crazy?!”

“Spike.” Big Mac clopped a hoof against the floor. “When it comes ta craziness, Pinkie can't hold a candle ta where you sit.” He turned back around, heading for the door. “Ya two are a match made in Canterlot. I can't imagine another mare willin' to put up with you!”

I went to open my mouth, but then, nothing came out.

So I sighed. “What do I say to her?”

The door creaked open. “Ya bring her some flowers, numb-nuts! Then ya ask to take the challenge or somethin'... I dunno!” Big Mac stepped outside, and a second later, the door closed behind him.

I returned to sitting straight. I ordered myself another drink, something sweet, and drank that while I thought. Many things were on my mind. Many things that made my vision hazy. One thing pegged my mind more than anything else, and it occurred to me just as Big Mac left through those doors.

“How the heck was he able to walk straight?”

“Excuse me, sir?”

I looked up. Bartender again. “Nothing. Just talking to myself.”

The bartender nodded, turning away.

“Actually, I got a question for you.”

From over his shoulder, the bartender stared at me.

“Do you know where I can get some cheap, cheaper than cheap flowers around here?”

I - The Proposal

~ I ~

The Proposal

“What happened to your eye?”

At least she was concerned. “Lost a fight back at the bar. Do we have any extra coffee left?”

“Machine's still on in the kitchen.” I'd stepped into the living room of the castle. Twilight was sitting on the sofa closet to the fireplace, a book between her legs, a cup of coffee hovering in her magic. “Help yourself to the rest of it.”

So I did. I came back into the living room cradling my cup of caffeine. I took the couch on the opposite end of Twilight. We didn't say anything at first. Sitting around was what we did first. Twilight and I were smart. Well, she was loads more intelligent than me—but that's not the point.

We were smart, not social. We could be at times. Anypony else, we'd throw our minds at them. Talking about whatever, gauging similar interests—sometimes it could be a game for us, trying to hit a perfect discourse. Weird how talking to others was made into a game, but then again, Twilight and I were plenty of weird in our own right.

“So... what did you do today?”

“Besides the fight?”

“Besides the fight.”

I thought about it. I'd woken up and skipped the shower, sitting in my room and looking at books. I meant to read some of them—books recommended by Twilight, though I never willed myself to read them. Gaze at their spines? Sure. I did that plenty. Imagine myself reading them? Only all the time.

Actually reading them? Rarely.

“Cleaned around the library, I suppose.” I leaned back into the sofa, sighing in relief as I sunk into the softness, something which my sore and beaten back appreciated. “Chased down on some late check-outs only to end up renewing the books.” I sipped my coffee. “Everypony had a good reason. Or their good reason was a lie, anyway."

“At least ponies are reading books,” Twilight said.

“At least ponies are reading books,” I said.

And that's about how most of our interactions went. That's how we talked. Wasn't our fault. We didn't have a whole lot to talk about. Sometimes, we tried learning things the other liked so we'd have something to discuss, to bridge this gap between us. But nothing worked. The air always became awkward, and even when we cleared it, we'd just retire to our rooms.

“Say, can I ask for a favor?”

“May.”

“Pardon?”

“You're asking for my permission something.” Twilight looked up from her book, though when she saw my confused face, her stoic expression softened. “It's not a matter of you being able to do something; it's a matter of me allowing you to do something. You would use the word may instead of can.”

“Oh, right.” I shook my head. “It's always the small things screwing me up.”

“The small things become everything, Spike,” Twilight said. “And watch the language when you're inside the castle!”

“Right right, my bad.” Bad. I felt bad around Twilight. Moments like these made showed that I was failing her, that I had failed her, that her teaching and wisdom were wasted on a fool unable to learn. When Starlight became her student, I was happy, happy because Starlight wouldn't screw up can and may. “So may I ask you for a favor?”

Twilight looked guilty for a second. “You may.”

“Can I... may I have some time off this week?” I asked her, being quick to take another sip. “Just a few days. Or a day.” I exhaled. “Or however much time you're willing to give me.”

Twilight tilted her head quizzically. “Are you going away somewhere?”

“What? No!” I said, blinking. “Well, maybe. I don't know.”

“You don't want the time just to sit around in your room, do you?”

“No," I replied. "Just wanna ask a mare out on a date.”

“D-Date?!” Twilight exclaimed as her thighs squeezed together, closing her book. “You're going to date a mare? Who?! Who is it?” She sat straight. “Oh my! Did Rarity finally say yes? Was that why you got into a fight at the bar?”

“Nah, none of that.” I waved my claw dismissively. “That was just Mac and I going at it. He was kind enough to give me some dating advice after beating my face in.”

“I swear, Spike, when will you just leave Mac alone?” Twilight shook her head. “I'll have to have a talk about him with Applejack.”

I wanted to tell Twilight how I started the fights, how I started all the matches, and how I lost all of the fights fair and square. She didn't believe that the first time. I doubted she'd believe it now. In her mind, I was innocent of most things. Even when did I screw up, there was a reason behind—reasons based on my physiologic or psychology and stuff like that.

Sometimes, I wasn't sure if even Twilight believed all that.

“He told me that I needed to start getting out more after the right,” I went on, staring into my cup. “Said that I gotta start going to places on my own, making friends on my own, and learning things for myself. Said I didn't stand a chance with Rarity without that.”

“Listen, Spike. I like Big Mac. I really do!” I lifted my eyes to gaze at Twilight—she was staring at me back. “But that stallion hasn't been in many relationships himself. What he may think is good for you may not just be true. I doubt he said whatever he did to try and hurt you.” Twilight paused for a second as if she was searching for something in her mind. “You seem very troubled right now. Is everything okay with you?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Of course everything is okay with me!” I glanced down my and along my chest. “I mean, I may be a tad sore from the fight. Definitely tipsy from the shots.” I looked back up at her. “Besides that, I'm fine.”

“If you say so, Spike.” Twilight let her legs spread and the book open. “So what then? You wanted the time off to go try dating some mares?” Her purple lips curled into a smirk. “Just go walk about town down on your knees?”

“Something like that.” I chuckled while my heart pricked. “I'd just wear a sign and offer some bits to the first mare that stopped.” I chuckled some more, shook my head some more, and felt something indescribable some more. “But... Nah. I don't think I have the guts to do that. Just going around town and asking mares out... heart's beating at the thought of it!”

“So what are you going to do then?” Twilight replied. “Just date an imaginary mare and see how that goes?”

I laughed at that one. “Not a bad idea, but no, that's not it.” I leaned forward to put my cup on the small table between Twilight and me, making sure to take a final, big gulp of coffee while I did so. “According to Big Mac, there's a mare in town that will date anypony. Pony, griffon, even dragon. Doesn't matter if they smart or suave.”

Twilight scrunched her muzzle. “Wait. You're just going to date a mare that's willing to date everyone?”

“Uh, I guess?”

“Even though she's gone on countless dates?”

“Maybe that's made her an expert on dating?”

“Please, Spike,” Twilight replied. “Any mare who keeps going on dates probably is probably doing something wrong.”

“Guess I can't fight your logic on that one.” I did though. I really did want to fight her on this one. But Twilight was smarter than me. She could beat me in any verbal fight. It was best to always follow in her logic. “But... I feel like I should still give it a try, y'know? Just get out there and do something.”

“Go where and to do what?”

“I... don't know.”

“You won't get anywhere by not knowing anything.”

Strangely enough, Twilight then offered my a smile. “But you obviously seem stressed and tired Spike. I... I know how much it can hurt not having somepony specialat this stage in life.” She giggled in a way that hurt my ears to hear. “Just look at me! Nopony special has taken me yet, b-because I'll always have y-you, you and our friends to keep me company!”

I let out a sigh heavier than a rest. “That's true. All of our friends are special to you.”

“And to you,” Twilight said, still smiling. “So how about we make a new deal. I'll give you a few days off—but you can't spend them being lazy in your room!” She got up from the sofa, levitating the book behind her. “You can choose a friend to spend some time with. Maybe see if they can cheer you up!”

Twilight walked up to the side of my couch, rearing up enough to kiss my cheek. “You know that I love you, right, Spike?”

“I know you do.'

“And that I'm always here for you?”

“I know you are.”

Twilight smiled in a way that seemed fake.

“Go and take some dating books from the library.” Twilight walked past me and in the direction of the kitchen. “And rent them out properly! You need some experience with mares? You've been around us enough to know what we're like!” Her giggles echoed from well behind me. “Those books will give you the rest of that 'experience' that you need.”

“Thanks, Twilight,” I said to her, before lowering my voice. “Because reading always scored you a guy.”

“Did you say something!?”

“N-No!”

“Alright then!” Twilight's voice became louder as her hooves clopped back into the living room and behind my couch. “I'm off to bed, then. You coming up?”

“Think I'll stay down here and get some reading down.” I turned and lifted my legs onto the sofa, lying back on it, staring up at the purple face peeking from overhead. “Been a while since I've slept down here anyway.”

“If you say so.” Twilight leaned down to kiss my forehead—the contact reminded of me when I used to be a baby, and when her kisses mattered a lot more to me. “I'm heading up now. Please put out the fire before you go to bed.” She giggled as her neck pulled up. “We don't need a repeat of last time.”

I chuckled. “Agreed.”

Twilight went to leave but stopped by the doors of the living room. She looked back over her shoulder and at me. “Oh! Did you decide who you wanted to visit?”

I couldn't stop the smile on my lips even if I wanted to.

“Yeah,” I said. “Been a while since I've helped around Sugarcube Corner.”

The next day came, and I was not ready for it.

I could write a crappy book about all the reasons on how I wasn't ready. Twilight's stupid advice didn't help much either: read some dating books, and then you'll be a pro! What the heck does she know about love or dating or anything of that! All she did was get my heart beating quickly as I realized just how hard it was to get a mare.

Appearance was the first thing. Attractiveness was the second thing. Character was the third thing if you didn't have the second thing, though the first thing could help you have the second thing—sort of. I dunno. My research material was mostly magazines; the kind that told me about the past affairs of Princess Celestia.

Reading about how to get a mare ended up making me more afraid of Pinkie Pie. There were many reasons to be scared of Pinkie Pie. Just... never thought dating her would make my heart began to race. The magazine said my heart was supposed to do that because it meant I was in love.

But I didn't love Pinkie. I was just scared of asking her out for... whatever reason.

So I got drunk. I don't remember getting drunk, but I did and got into a fight that I won. I thought I won it. My snout was hurting. Maybe I didn't win that fight after all? Guess it didn't matter. What mattered was the water splashing against my face.

“Wakey-wakey!” the voice sang as the rest of the water splashed against the ground. “And do a shaky-shaky! Hey ya, Spike!”

“And good morning, afternoon, or evening to whoever you are!” I sat up, rubbing my eyes. “But... ugh, was the shower necessary?”

“You wouldn't wake up, silly!” the voice was tinged with energy, invigorating me more than the coffee. “I tried poking you at first. Poke poke poke! I poked you all over, but nothing seemed to work! You're a real hard sleeper. You know that?”

“I'm too asleep to notice.”

“Oooooh! That was clever!”

“Thanks.” I chuckled, finally opening my eyes. “I always try my best when... aw crud.”

“Crud what?” Pinkie Pie said, looking around. “I don't see any crud around here!” She pulled a telescope away from her eyes—and pushing it against my own. “Do you see any crud around here? Maybe somepony named crud?”

“All I see is griffon making out with a donkey,” I said, slowly tilting my head as I watch. “And they're getting into it. Whoa. They keep that up, and they just might make a kid in that alleyway.”

“Spike!” The telescoped pulled away from my eye, something soft slapped my shoulder. Behind me, Pinke stood on top of some step.“You should know better than to peep on others. How would you like it if somepony choose to peep on us right now?”

“They would just see us talking?”

“How about they choose to peep on you while you were in your bedroom?!”

“They would just see me sleeping?”

“Good point.” Pinkie let the telescope collapsed into itself, stuffing it inside the recesses of her mane. “Guess there's nothing wrong with watching someone when they're not doing anything wrong.” She shook her head. “Or maybe it's wrong to do something wrong just because somepony else is doing something wrong!”

I closed my left eye. “But isn't it wrong to do something wrong even if someone else isn't doing something wrong? Like, breaching privacy or something?”

“That is so true!” Pinkie exclaimed. She then gasped, covering her mouth with a hoof. “Wait a second! Doesn't that mean I'm a wrong pony for watching you sleep?”

I blinked. “Where was I sleeping anyways?”

“On the steps of Sugarcube Corner!” Pinkie Pie stepped out the way, gesturing up at the candy inspired establishment. “I don't know what time you got here, and I super-duper don't know why you're here, but I've been watching you sleep ever since the sun came up! Or I think it came up?” She looked up to the sky and smiled. “Yup, the sun came up. I'm not imagining things.”

There was so much to catch up on that my hungover brain almost refused. But I was having fun at the moment, despite needing to hurl, and my heart beating because, well, it needed to beat for me to live, but beat harder because of the mare that was supposed to become my own.

“Going back to the whole wrong thing, I think you're in the clear.” I used a claw to wipe any lingering moisture from my brow. “Watching ponies sleep is usually considered creepy, unless you're dating that pony, in which case, I guess it becomes romantic?” My heart pricked when I said 'date.'

“But we aren't dating!'

“That... that's right.” I gulped. “We're not dating. B-but that doesn't make it c-creepy though!”

“It dooooesn't?” Pinkie tilted her head, her puffy mane bouncing from the movement. “How come?”

“I guess it goes back to the concept of social perspective.” I always felt fake whenever I tried to talk fancy like manure was spilling past my lips—but no one could pick up on the smell. “If a guy watches a girl sleep, then almost everything considers that creepy.” I exhaled sharply. “But if a cute girl watches a guy sleep, well, not anyone seems to have an issue with that.”

“Wait!” Pinkie clopped her hooves together from behind me. “Does this mean I'm a cute girl, Spike?”

I glanced over my shoulder. Pinkie Pie stood tall on all four of her hooves, her fluffy chest caressed by a sudden breeze. Her eyes curved upward, colored blue, just like the sky, but she possessed far more energy inside them. She was pink all over, and I was too scared to check out her flanks.

“Of course you are, Pinkie.” I went back to looking forward, hoping she couldn't see my shade of pink on my cheeks. “That's another thing most ponies would agree with.” I then cleared my throat. “Anyway, back to the... thingy.”

“Back to the thingy!”

“Right.” I cleared my throat again, but that didn't help it from clamping. “So there isn't an issue with a cute girl watching a guy sleep because... because...” I blinked, questioning this line of logic. “...because cute girls can have whatever they want, I suppose. They wouldn't prey on a sleeping guy if they can already have whatever they want?”

“That's how that works?”

“Mostly, I think?” I let my claw flop on the ground next to me. “Forget that. Look, it's true that somepony shouldn't do a wrong thing just because somepony else is doing a wrong thing, but sometimes, we have to do a wrong thing to stop somepony else from doing a wrong thing.” I wasn't sure if I was speaking smart or speaking pure idiot.

“But aren't you still doing a wrong thing?”

“Well, you'd stop doing the wrong thing once the other pony stops doing a wrong thing.”

“I guess I get that.” I could hear something heavy collide against the ground—I was still too scared to check out her flanks. “But aren't you still as wrong as that somepony else because you're doing the same amount as wrong as them.”

“That depends. You're probably not doing the same amount of wrong as they are.” I stood up, hearing and feeling my back crack. “Your steps are not a free hotel, and I was wrong to sleep on them. You had to splash me with water to wake up, something you were right to do, so customer and ponies could get into the store.”

“So I'm the right mare, and you're the wrong dragon?”

That line hurt me more than it should've.

“In a way, yeah.” I did my best to stand tall, crack my neck left and then right, and not let on how utterly afraid I'd been rendered in under a second. “So you've done nothing wrong here, Pinkie.”

“Only you, you wrong pony!” Pinkie gasped. “And you're not even a pony, so that makes you even more wrong!” I risked a glance over my shoulder, and luckily for me, her eyes were closed. “Is that how it works, Spike?”

My head shot forward just as her eyes reopened. “Not... sure, to tell you the truth. Sorry.”

“Meh, it's all silly anyway,” Pinkie said, somehow dismissing the entire conversation and the stress associated with it. Her voice was welcoming, accepting, enough so that I slowly turned around. She was standing on the top of the steps, expression alive and eyes glinting, a hoof extended and pointing at me, like she was declaring something. “Now then, Spike the Dragon, what is it you want from Miss Pinkie Pie!”

Aw, crud! Was I supposed to ask her out here? Glancing around, we were alone together in the morning—not even shuffling came from inside the store. But still, I felt exposed out in the open. I hadn't planned how I was going to ask her out.

In fact, I'd gotten drunk so I could forget all about it and, if I was lucky, maybe drunk me could do it for me. But here I was, hungover, a game of logic leaving me drained, a mare of such fluffy cuteness demanding something of me.

I had to get out of this. I had to lie, to make something up, to escape back to my room and think about this again. Twilight told me that anything could be won by thinking and planning, and equally so, lost by rushing and feeling. She was right. I wasn't ready.

Pinkie kept looking at me, smiling at me, pointing at me, wanting something from me. She looked so cute and open, so pink and fluffy, so everything alive and energetic, questioning everything and leaving the answers to someone else. She was fond of starting and loved it even more when others came in to end, because that way, they would be together.

I just... had to say something that would end this quickly, safely, and not make me look even more like an idiot.

“Will you date me?”

II - Two Hundred and Fifty Rules

~ II ~

Two-Hundred and Fifty Rules.

“Alright then, Spikey!” Pinkie's hoof slammed against the desk; I felt her eyes narrowing on me. “So you head about the challenge then, huuuuuh? Thought you of all my friends would go for my lips!” Her hoof raised to said lips, impressing on them. “How dare you! What have they ever done to you anyway?!”

“Nothing?” I slumped into the wooden chair, its armrests stabbing into my sides. “Sure, they kinda talk a lot, but I don't really mind that.” I scratched my throat. “Actually, I kinda like that. Because you talk a lot, then I get to talk a lot, and then we always have something to talk about, y'know?”

Why the heck was I talking so weird? Fake words poured from my mouth again, and like always, I was helpless to stop them. They just came and went, standing on their own, hoping to make sense or, at the very least, trying to fool those who heard them—me especially.

The strange thing was, even though my words felt like lies, they weren't. What I had spoken were my feelings, despite how vague and unfinished that they were, so much so, that they just felt like lies instead of incomplete thoughts.

Crud. Overthinking again. I had to stop that.

“If that isn't just the sweetest thing on icing cake!” Pinkie's stern expression shifted to closed eyes and a wide smile. “I like talking to you too, Spike!” Her eyes reopened, and her mouth slipped a heavy breath out. “But we should probably start talking about dating. Like how you're going to date me, and how I'm going to date you!”

“So it's true?” I arched an eyebrow. “You'll date anyone who asks?”

“Careful there, Spike, it's not that easy.” Pinkie rolled her blue eyes. “I just think if someone is willing to give me a chance, then it's only fair that I show them the same kindness in return!” She stepped to the right, stopped at a filing cabinet, pulled out a long drawer. “No pony or griffon or even dragon has won the challenge before! But we always do end up learning something, or something about something.”

“F-Fair enough.” I sat silently, watching her hooves flicked through upstanding papers. What the heck was I getting myself into here? This was new and different, which was Big Mac wanted from me, but I never expected things to get so... weird. “So, uh, what's the closest someone's come to winning this?”

Pinkie glared at me from over her shoulder.

“Winning your heart, I-I mean.”

She looked down at the papers. “It's hard to say. I've had a lot of stallions that were very excited at the beginning, but when we got to the first trial, they kinda flunked out.” Her hooves lifted a stack of paper to the air. She then turned around, closing the drawer with a smack of her rump. “But we had fun while it lasted!”

“Wha... what's the first trial?”

“Oh silly, it changes!” Pinkie dropped the stack on the desk, which created a thud. “They always depend on how I'm feeling and who I'm with.” She took the chair on the opposite side of the desk. “I can't have you boys giving each other hints! That's just cheating and totally unfair to me.” She leaned slightly over the desk, closing one of her eyes and widening the other. “You don't plan on cheating now, do you?”

“Cheating on you or the rules?”

“Both!”

I glanced down for a moment. I didn't actually plan on going out with Pinkie Pie full-time—just enough to shake up my life and grant me some experience. Rarity was the goal, the reason for all of this, and I wasn't about to give her up for some games.

But I needed to win those games to win Rarity herself.

“I promise not to cheat,” I said, lifting my claw. “You have my word!”

“Good enough for me!” Pinkie smiled. She then dug her muzzle into her mane, plucking out a quill between her teeth, bringing and dropping it over the papers. “That's rule one and two agreed to then and there! I love then and there—they're always at the same place and time!”

“Same here I guess?” I shook my head and picked up the quill. I glanced at the contract, squinting at the small letters. “So I just check mark in the boxes and sign at the bottom of every page?”

“You got it!' Pinkie cheered. “Now that you've agreed to the challenge, I need to hear you say that you agreed to the challenge.” She scooted her chair forward. “Or else I don't know that you agreed to the challenge.”

“But I already agreed.”

“But you need to say it.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to hear you agree to the challenge.”

“I agree to the challenge.”

“I also agree to the challenge!”

“So we both agree to the challenge?”

“We both agree to the challenge!”

Pinkie pulled out another quill from her mane, crossing an 'X' over my check-mark on the first box. I glared at her pink face; she only smiled back.

“The heck was that for?”

“I'm agreeing to the contract too, silly.” Pinkie lifted an eyebrow. “Wouldn't be fair if only you were held up to the rules.”

“But you crossed out my check-mark!”

“Only because I agreed to you agreeing to it.”

“But you crossed it! Doesn't thatcancel it?”

“I already know that you agreed to the rule,” Pinkie said. “We don't need a piece of paper to know that as well.”

“I... guess that's okay then?”

“Great! You're already a step ahead most of the stallions.”

“Wait,” I replied. “Am I in competition with everyone who was ever your ex?”

“That's up to you, silly.'

I blinked, remembering this was Pinkie, remembering this was Mac's idea, and how I would not remember drinking all the shots he would be owing me when all this was done and over. Just think of the drinks, Spike, and you won't have to think about anything else afterward.

“Let's go over the rules then.”

“Rule one! Don't cheat on me.” Pinkie lowered her quill to the second box. “Rule two! Don't cheat on my rules.” She crossed that box. “Rule three! You can end our relationship only by sending me a letter in the mail.”

I checked, and she crossed.

“Rule four! You can let no one else date me while I'm, dating you.”

Checked; crossed.

“Rule five! You have to marry me if you win the challenge.”

I stopped checking. “What?”

“Kidding,” Pinkie replied. “You can't come to my wedding if this doesn't work out.”

“Can I be the exception to the rule?” I replied. “Twilight will smack me with a book if I don't show up.” I threw up my claws. “You and I were friends long before this challenge anyways. Wouldn't want... something like this to screw everything up, you know?”

Pinkie squinted. “Hmm. Okay!”

I sighed relief.

“Since you're a special one, we'll make this a special case.” Pinkie crossed out the entire section. “But no more special treatment, Mr. Special. Ya got that!”

“Relax Pinkie!” I replied. “The only more special you're going to get outta of me is my intelligence level, I swear! For however many rules you've got left, I agree to them all!” I glanced back down at the thick stack. “Just how many rules are there anyways?”

Pinkie pouted, crossed her forelegs, and looked elsewhere. “About two hundred and fifty.”

I sighed.

“This is the worst terms and agreements I've seen in my life.”

“I outta beat the crud out of you for that.”

Big Mac lifted his mug. “Was it really all that bad?”

“We talked about rules for four hours!” I lifted my mug, purging the memory with the assistance of booze. “I didn't know dating could have so many... so many complication and stuff! I tell you, most of that crud was probably made up.”

“Ain't all rules made up?”

“You get what I mean.” I slammed the mug onto the counter, turning to face the hazy red thing again. “Those were just silly rules she invented just to be... silly! That's nothing like true romance when you... where you... how you romance a girl!”

“Have ya ever romanced a girl before?”

“Well, no.”

“So how would ya know?”

“Because I've fantasized about it endlessly! You see this head here?” I tapped a digit against my forehead. “Inside here, dating isn't an issue! Rarity and I have gone on countless ones. I'm the perfect prince with the perfect words, and she's the perfect mare with the perfect dress that's not going to be perfect for long.”

Big Mac stared at me for a very long time. “...ya ever get off ta yer own ideas?”

“Shove off.” I turned back, crossing my arms over the counter. “I just imagine how things would go if the world were perfect. Always a nice evening at a restaurant, a pleasant conversation I'm always able to follow, where nothing ever goes wrong for the rest of the night.”

“That ain't how romances go.”

“That's how they should go.”

I felt like a child. “At least, it feels like how they should go. Let me tell you, I may never have been on a date before, but I can guarantee they're not enforced by a bunch of dumb, invisible rules.” I shook my head. “We just do what we want, talk how we pleased, and if that doesn't work, then it wasn't bound to work out in the first place.”

“Ain't that just the truth,” Mac's voice floated to the right of me. “Just a shame it ain't true for you. Why, I don't think I ever heard you swear around Lady Rarity.” He snickered. “Or ever gotten into a fight near her. Why, I reckon you wore a suit of all things just to not knock on her door.”

I wanted to throw a fist, but instead, sunk into my arms. “Fine. You got me.”

“Truth of that matter is that everypony changes for one reason or another.” Big Mac shifted in his stool, which squeaked from his weight—the fat red stallion. “We don't always mean to, and we don't always know what those reasons mean. But I reckon we still change anyway—if only ta learn somthin' new about ourselves.”

I glanced up at him from below my wrist. “I thought you went on dates to learn about somepony else.”

Big Mac shook his head. “Ya end up finding just as much out about yerself. It's reason why ponies do it so much.” He chuckled a sad laugh. “Probably the reason why ponies do it so much. It's there one of the biggest challenges ya could ever face up to live.” He smirked at me, or at least, I thought he did. “Including all them villains and problems Y'all faced in the past.”

I sat up at the mention of that. “You mean the challenges the girls faced in the past.”

He blinked. “But ya were always there.”

“Hiding and complaining.”

“How about that one time you went and saved the whole Crystal Empire?” Big Mac put a hoof on my shoulder. “They made ya a statue and everything! That's gotta count fer something or other, no?”

“Because falling to my death is the heroics they talk about in picture books.” My chest clamped, and my heart hurt—I lifted my mug and chugged, drinking the bitterness, letting it taint my tongue. “Aaaack! Oh, all that stuff was just crud I lived off.”

“Boy, ain't you sour!” Big Mac pulled back his hoof, using it lift his mug as well. “Just take the compliment! I swear, you better not be this way around Pinkie.” He went to drink, the mug touching his lips, though he pulled it away. “C'mon, Spike, ya have a marefriend now! Yer first one too!”

“Not a real one.”

“Just take the victory when ya can.” Big Mac threw back the drink, draining it in a few gulps. “Hnnngh. Now, ya have a marefriend, now yer one step ahead from where you were yesterday. Ya may not think it was a step in a good direction, but that's only because you don't have the slightest clue on where ya headin'.”

“So the best idea is just to wander?” I replied in a mocking tone. “Getting in the ways of ponies as I do so. Maybe hurting them?”

“The only way ya gonna find where you wanna go is to go lookin for it,” Big Mac said, “and you ain't gonna see too much from yer bedroom window. Ya gotta do an action to get a reaction... I think? Weren't it Twilight always saying that?”

“I wouldn't take advice from Twilight,” I replied. Behind me, balls from the pool table clacked together. The smell of smoke wafted into the air. “She blew hot air your way, and besides, it's not like she's getting out much either.”

“And that's a shame,” Mac said, “but that ain't a reason fer you to be dissin' family. Or holdin' yerself back for that matter.”

I looked back over my shoulder. At the pool table, four ponies gathered around it. Some had cigars in their mouths. Others had mugs in their hooves. They were all talking, all laughing, like the friends they were, ponies with... actual lives.

“Guess I should stop focusing on the failures of others so much,” I said as I faced forward again. “So Pinkie Pie then? You reckon it's worthwhile putting up with her and her crazy rules?”

“Those rules may not be as crazy as ya think they are.” Big Mac chuckled as he lifted his hoof, signaling to the bartender for another drink. “I never once told ya them mares were not crazy. No. Every mare is crazy in her own right. Question always seems to be if yer willing to put up with their craziness.”

I shook my head. “Feels like there's a bit more to it than that.”

“Then ya better go find out then.”

We sat together for a while. We didn't say much after that. We drank. We ordered more drinks when we had finished drinking. For the moment, we drank, and we thought, something that was better left done alone. For some reason, though, we never ended up doing those two things alone. We never talked, sometimes getting up to move, but it was always comforting to know, that no matter where your thoughts may go, your best friend was sitting next to you, entangled in his troubles.

As it stood, I had a marefriend. Pinkie Pie was my marefriend. It was official—she made me sign and then she crossed out my signature. It felt unreal mostly because it was. Sure, we were dating, but we weren't really dating.

All of this was a game on a slightly more intimate level. Pinkie had some trials for me. They were meant to prove something, or at least, entertain her in some weird way. It'd seemed like a waste of time, but then again, my time wasn't worth much at the moment.

I doubted I would learn anything.

Big Mac thought otherwise.

I'd stumbled home drunk again.

I made it inside the castle without making a noise, which was strange, considering all the pans in the kitchen I knocked over. No one came, so no one heard, which meant the sound never happened, at least to my hungover mind.

After a journey through the hallways which always seemed to shift, I finally found my bedroom. I never locked it, because to be honest, I doubt I could unlock it whenever I got back home. Walking inside and closing the door, I sighed into the midnight, not bothering with the lights.

I stumbled over to my bed. There was a flask on my bandstand. Sometimes it had water; sometimes it had more booze. I always liked to surprise myself. Usually, by this state of mind, I couldn't tell the difference until tomorrow morning.

So took a big swig. The flask was empty. Putting it back on my stand, I tried to think of when I last drank from it—then I remembered that thinking hurt. Sighing, I let myself fall back into the bed, landing roughly in the middle of it.

Softness matched by warmth embraced me. I smiled as my bed felt different. Reaching around for a pillow to hug around my chest, my claws scrapped around until coming across something plushy. Smiling even wider, I brought the bundle of warmth against my chest, appreciating how it wrapped around my limbs—almost like a living thing.

“Aw, thanks, Spike!” My eyes shot open. “I love hugs too!”

I looked down to see that I had a mare in my bed.

“But you better let go of my quickly!” Pinkie said down from my belly, smiling up at me. “You don't wanna lose the first trial, do you!?”

“A-Ack!” I shot up straight and crawled until my back slammed against the wall. “P-Pinkie! What the heck are you doing here?”

“Dating you of course, silly poke.” Pinkie sat up on the bed, bringing her thighs together. “Today starts the first day of our relationship! Aren't you just excited? Huh? Well are ya, are ya?!”

“Will you get out of my room, mare?!” I closed my eyes and shook my head. “I'm drunk and hungover! Don't you have any decency to give me some privacy?”

“But... but I thought I was a cute mare?”

“You're...” I had to bite my tongue then and there—a place where Pinkie definitely did not want to be. I wanted to curse at her for being so moronic, for being so creepy and weird—how this was probably one of the reasons why most stallions failed to go further with her. “...right, and I'm wrong.”

“Really?”

“Eh, no.” I let myself slumped forward. “I just... I don't know! It feels kinda weird to have you in my room of all thing, y'know?” I looked around in the dimness of my room. “This place is meant for me and me alone. It's where I think and sleep and do... other stuff!”

“I guess I get what you mean.” Pinkie lowered her muzzle. “Would you... like to put this into the rules then?”

“I... no.” I crawled forward, coming just before her. “Look, I'm just a little weirded out about how everything is going.” I sighed, reaching for her hoof. “Just gonna take me a little to get used to it. But, if we can, I don't wanna start... whatever the heck this is with a bunch of rules.”

Pinkie looked up at me and stared into my eyes for a little while. For a moment, we were both silent, alone together in the dimness of my bedroom—right at the time where thoughts and feeling I'd rather repress would come running out. This area was my isolated form of torture, and it didn't feel right to have someone else here.

“...Spike?”

I shook my head again—the room was becoming blurry again. “Yeah?”

“Are you... are you serious about dating me?”

“I kinda am.” I pulled my claw back, leaving her hoof untouched. “I've never dated a mare before, Pinkie, and honestly, you were the only one who said yes.” I turned, letting myself lie down. “And as far as your craziness goes, I've never really seen you as a mare... per se.”

“Well, that's silly.”

“I know.” I gazed up at the ceiling, feeling my eyes lose their focus. “I'm filled with a bunch of silly thoughts and feelings.” My eyelids became heavy. “But I'm hoping being with you, even for a little bit, can make me a less silly.”

There was silence only for a moment.

“But I like your silly.”

“My silly isn't always likable.”

“Then I guess we'll just have to see about that!”

It was still crazy to think I had a mare sitting on my bed. A member of the opposite sex, just sitting there, looking over me as my eyes came to a close. If my mind weren't a haze, I'd have more to say, but for the moment, I enjoyed the feeling of being alone without being alone.

“And... if you're really serious about dating me, then maybe, maybe I can toss some of the rules.” I feel the bed bounce as she stood up. “But you have to get rid of some of your rules too!”

“I don't have any rules,” I replied, feeling my consciousness fade away. “Cute mares get away with whatever, remember?”

“Does that mean I get to watch you sleep again?”

“Don't pull out a knife and we have a deal.”

There were no more words after that, besides the sounds of me maybe snoring. It's hard to say how much longer I was awake, everything dark and silent. I couldn't feel her in the room anymore, but a part of me knew she was watching. It should have been creepy; I should have been scared.

But the last thing I felt was a smile before I drifted off into slumber.

III - Don't Touch Me

~ III ~

Don't Touch Me

I managed to have the kitchen to myself in the morning.

Don't know where Twilight went, and to be honest, I didn't care. My head hurt, and the world turned when I wasn't looking. Hung-over. I was hungover, forced to face vomit and nausea for the foreseeable afternoon.

But there was a neat trick I learned to overcome this. A fellow drinker had told me about it and, though it sounded disgusting at the time, I tried it anyway. The way I saw it: there wasn't much I could lose against more hurl.

“First we get the bowl. Top shelf.” I reached up into the cabinet and brought down the bowl, doing my best not to fill it with something other than milk. “Next we get the booze. Bottom self.” Same thing. My claw pulled the tall-boy up by its neck. “Now we get the cereal and have ourselves a breakfast of ex-champions.”

I grabbed the box on the counter and filled the bowl with oats. Twilight was trying to eat healthily; I was trying to eat the opposite. With the bowl filled, I then poured the booze, listening to the crackling sound as I went to take a seat.

“Ah!” I exclaimed, digging a spoon into the bow. “Snap, crackle and burp!”

I'm not exactly sure when I started talking to myself: it just kinda happened one day, alone, in my bedroom, with no one around and nothing for me to do. It was just the way it went for me nowadays—ultimate relaxation veiled in intense boredom.

I thought about that for a moment. My whole life was dedicated to slacking off as much as I could. I wanted to be alone. When I was out and about, either cleaning or listening to someone or saving the world, my mind always drifted to my empty room, where I'd always rather be.

It was my safe place from my work; only, I found I didn't enjoy being in there all so much.

“Stupid thoughts,” I muttered to myself, lifting a heavy spoon into my maw, letting the booze tickle euphoria back onto my tongue. “What good are ya anyways? Always making me feel bad. Ya never help me get anything done in the first place!”

What the heck was I going on about? I sighed, ate another spoonful of oats and booze, and pondered about nothing for the rest of the morning. At some point, I recalled a strange dream I had, one where Pinkie was in my bedroom, watching me as I was delirious, talking about how I wasn't allowed to touch her.

Wait. That was a dream, right?

“That wasn't a dream, silly!”

I cocked my head. “It wasn't?”

“E'nope!” Pinkie cheered from behind the counter. “I stayed up all night watching you sleep! It was quite cute, too.”

“Don't see how watching someone sleep can be cute.” I scratched my neck. “Or even all that entertaining. You must have gotten bored once or twice.”

“Not really!” Pinkie waved a hoof to someone behind me. Turning to look, I saw a pony standing, waiting, glaring at me. I quickly stepped aside and offered a nod. Pinkie kept talking to me while she cashed out the pony. “It was one of the best nights of my life! I watch something that I usually don't get to watch!”

“Someone sleeping?”

“Just sleeping works?”

“It does?”

“It doesn't have to be someone that's sleeping for it to be cool!” Pinkie slapped the side of the register, a small drawer shooting out and stopping an inch from her chest. “I'd watch myself sleep if I could! But it never ends up working out.”

“It doesn't?”

“Trust me, Spikey, I've tried more times than you can believe!” Pinkie scraped up some bits onto her hoof and then held them out, dropping them into the pony's open pouch. She smiled at him; he snickered and left. “One time, I put a mirror next to my bed, y'know, so I could watch myself sleep.”

I blinked. “And then what happened?”

“I don't know! I fell asleep!” Pinkie scrunched up her muzzle, crossing her forelegs onto the counter and slumping onto them. “I was so sad when I woke up that I tried it out again! The trouble was, every time I closed my eyes, I couldn't see my reflection anymore, and when I opened my eyes, my eyes looked at me back from the mirror.”

“I... I guess you're right then?” I stroked my chin. “It's impossible to watch yourself sleep because either you're sleeping or—“

“Or your eyes are closed!”

“Very true.” I dropped the claw from my chin and held it against my hip. “But why do you wanna watch yourself sleep in the first place? Or anyone for that matter?”

“Oh, easy-peaty,” Pinkie Pie said. “It gives me something to do!”

That line struck a chord with me, one that I wasn't aware I had, though it played out nonetheless. I took a moment in the silence to pay closer attention to Pinkie—to actually look at her, I mean.

Her body was clean. The pink fur covering her body had been brushed to perfection— except her mane, which was left best to being puffy and free. Below her muzzle, some fluff puffed out from her chest and, being so cute and... touchable.

I reached a claw out toward it.

“What'cha doing, drakefriend?”

“I, um!” I curled my claw and let it hover over the counter, feeling my heartbeat. “I was, uh, gonna give you a hug... if that's alright?”

“Absolutely not!”

I blinked. “Huh!?”

“You're my drakefriend, and I'm your marefriend. Ya got that!?” Pinkie had almost lifted herself atop the counter, the heat of the sun radiating from her very face. “That means we're together as a couple, and if we're together as a couple, then that means you are not to lay a claw on me, understand!”

My jaw dropped; my brain gave up. “W-What! That's... that's not how that works at all!”

“We're not together for even a day before the first agruement starts, huh!" Pinkie shook her head, making a strange hissing sound through her teeth. “Maybe you're not ready for the first trial after all.”

“Now hold on a second!” I wanted to lift her chin so Pinkie would have no choice but to look at me, but my claw stopped on the way there. It remembered the rule. Her rules. The silly and made up rules. “This isn't an argument, alright?! I don't understand what you're saying is all.”

“How is it hard to understand what I'm saying?”

“Because what you're saying doesn't make a whole lot of sense!” My head dropped, and my lips passed out a sigh. “Look, I'm not claiming to be a master on dating, but from what I've seen from other couples is that they touch each other—a lot.” I shook my head. “I thought the whole reason ponies dated was so they had someone to touch.”

“Is that the reason you're dating me?”

“What? No! Kind of?” I was breathing through my mouth now, trying to repress my heart from exploding. “Listen, I'm dating you because I've never dated before, and I want to learn what it's like.” I gulped, cleaning my eyes. “I've always been around you girls, but never... with one of you, I mean.”

“Well, why didn't you just say so!” I looked up to see Pinkie leaning over the counter, her muzzle inches before mine, her plush pink lips even closer to my own. “You just wanna learn how it feels like to be with a mare?”

“Exactly that! Yes!”

“Then you should know that I'm unlike any other mare!” Pinkie fell back to behind the counter. “And if ya wanna date me, Spikey, then you're going to have to date me my way!”

“Fine, fine!”

“Good boy.” Pinkie scrunched both her lips and eyes. “Now tell me, is there any reason why you want to become experienced in dating? Hmm?”

“No reason! No reason.” I put up my claws in surrender, finally feeling my heart-rate decline. “Just wanna become experienced in it is all. Maybe have some talent to use if, y'know, this doesn't work out... or something.”

“Okie-Dokie-Lokie.” Pinkie fell onto her rump and lifted a hoof to her face. “If that's the case, then I'm willing to help you—but this is my challenge, so you still have to play by my trails.” She rubbed underneath her left eye, yawning...cutely. “And the first trial is this: you are not allowed any part of me, capisce?”

“Capisce, I guess.” This wasn't making a whole lot of sense, but now, that was the trend with Pinkie Pie. My mouth opened to argue my confusion further but stopped when I saw just how tired she was. “Silly question, but did you really stay up all night?”

“Of course I did.” Pinkie shook her head ferociously, trying to shake off her black bags. “Now then, on a scale from one to ten: how busy are you today?”

“Zero,” I replied. “I don't have a life.”

“Perfect!”

I don't think anyone's ever been happy to hear me say that before.

“Mr. and Ms. Cake should be home in aboooooooout an hour. Give or take.” Pinkie shook her head. “But don't take anything, or else they'll be very upset!”

I slowly nodded. “I'll be sure to keep my greed in check.”

“Good!” Pinkie rose to her hooves, standing up, stumbling around. “Now then! When they get home, it's going to be dating time for you and me!” She smiled so wide that her white teeth glinted from the overhead light. “We can go wherever you like, whenever you like, and do whatever you like!”

I pointed at my chest. “I'm in charge of setting the date?”

“Mmhmm!” Pinkie crossed her hooves over the counter again, but this time, leaned heavily into them. “I've already learned everything I could from all my previous dates!” She giggled and coughed at the same time. “Besides, what you want for a date will reveal a whole bunch about you, ya know!”

“Is that so?” I laughed, feeling strangely motivated. “Alright then. I'll do my best to think of something nice for you and me to do.”

“Thatta boy!” Her eyes quickly narrowed on me. “But remember! No matter what, you and I are not to touch each other, okay? No lovey-dovey stuff either!”

“Isn't that the whole point of dating?”

“Quit the challenge then!” Pinkie said. “Find somepony else to date if ya like. I won't hold it against you. Seriously!”

“No no, you're fine—I'd rather date you.” That was a lie. One that she didn't need to know about. All I had to do was date the crazy mare, see if I could learn a thing or two about how mares worked, then use that to make Rarity mine. “No touching or romantic compliments. Don't worry—I've been doing that my whole life.”

Pinkie smiled at that one. “You're can be so funny sometimes.”

“Thanks.” I gave her a smile of my own. “I don't try to be.”

I kept looking at her. Something bugged me. It was her eyes, her perfectly blue eyes always so filled with life—always giving, never taking, even when they reflected the world. I could see myself, my ugly muzzle reflected from her blueness.

I was smiling.

But below those eyes, her black bags dragged almost innocently. I gazed at them for a couple of seconds, and then, looking back up into her eyes, I saw that I was no longer smiling. Closing my own eyes and shaking my head, I exhaled a heavy breath.

“Say, Pinkie?” I caught her attention. “How would you feel about taking a quick nap before we went out?”

“I'd love that, silly,” Pinkie replied. She then gestured a hoof to around the store. “But I can't close the store simply because I want a nap!”

“How about I watch the store for you?”

“Huh?” Pinkie tilted her head quizzically. “How would you do that?”

“C'mon, Pinkie.” I went to lay a claw on her shoulder but quickly stopped myself—this really was going to get on my nerves. “I've got all the skills needed to watch shop for an hour or so. Customer service? I've gotta deal with Twilight every morning. Handling bits? I do my own taxes.”

“I'm not sure...”

“Making food and sweet?” I went on. “Have you ever seen Twilight cook? Do you remember how fat I used to be?”

“Used to be?”

“You quit that.”

Pinkie giggled. Her gaze was still alert, glancing around the store like a mother searching for danger while her cub was at her side. She seemed conflicted. Her lips were parted, like they wanted to say yes, but her eyes, those perfect eyes held doubts—doubts about me.

“I'm not so sure about this, Spike.” She came to lock eyes with me. “Do you... do you think you could handle down here all by yourself?”

I shrugged. “Not much to handle, to be honest with you.” I peeked over my shoulder—the store was mostly empty, apart from a couple sitting at a booth, sharing a milkshake with two straws. “You've already got all the sweets out. Do you have anything cooking the kitchen.”

Pinkie shook her head. “No special orders today.”

“That's great!” I exclaimed. “So how about you go and get yourself upstairs? I'll clean down here if it doesn't get too busy.” Looking back at the tables behind me, I could feel the dust on them. Call it a sense given to me by Twilight. “I promise your store is in good claws.”

“You do?”

“I'd shake your hoof,” I replied, “but I'd rather not blow up our relationship.”

Pinkie stared at me for a good long while, no doubt thinking. Thinking about what? I had no clue. I imagined it was the same kind of thinking a mare does before somepony. Questions like: is he trustworthy? Is he nice around others? Does he cover his mouth when he burps?

We didn't get to try that kind of thinking on each other—we just leaped into the relationship without thinking much about it. To be honest, I haven't done much thinking lately, and because of that, it seemed like I was getting more done because of it.

I just had to hope Pinkie was willing to do the same with me because, really, if she gave one thought as to the kind of dragon I really was, she'd call this engagement off and go running—or bouncing—for the hills.

“Alright, Spikey.” Pinkie kept her eyes locked on mine, giving a heavy nod of her head. “You wanna play boss? You wanna play Mr. Free Worker? That's fine with me! In fact, I'm even going to thank you for it!” She inhaled through her mouth, and kept inhaling, and... still kept inhaling until—“THANK YOOOOU!”

The shout pushed me back a step.

“Y-You're...” I shook the daze out from my head, sticking a finger to roll inside my ear. “...w-welcome?”

“You know how everything works, hotshot?”

“An oven, a register, and a cloth?”

She nodded.

“Used 'em my whole life.”

She smiled.

“Good!” Pinkie started to walk backward, keeping her eyes locked on mine. “I'm going to go upstairs now! You got a problem with that?”

“...none at all?”

“How about me trying to watch myself sleep again?”

“You can do that too.”

“Good!”

Pinkie continued to walk backward until her rump touched the door of the kitchen. She pushed it open, still watching me, still walking back, until finally, once the doors squeaked closed, she dashed away.

There wasn't much for me to think or feel, so accepting absurdity, and refusing to think, I walked around the counter, coming to stand where Pinkie had nearly passed out before. I stood there, slightly clueless about my duty. Then, in the span of blink, something clicked.

“Huh,” I murmured. “My first real job.”

IV - Customer Service

~ IV ~

Customer Service

“Where's the mare!?”

I rolled my eyes. “How many time do I gotta tell you? Not here.”

“She lives here!” I wasn't here for a minute, a frickin' minute before some slob punched the damn doors opened! It was the pony before—the one with the bad attitude and even worse face. The prick was pressing it against mine. “I know it for a fact!”

“Sorry buddy, but the last I checked, mares don't live in the kitchen.” I stood tall, shaking my head. “In fact, that's kinda a sexist thing to say in these parts. Didn't you mother teach you some manners while she was in the kitchen?”

“How dare you insult my mother!”

“You can insult mine if ya like.”

“You have a mother?”

His anger transitioned into extreme confusion.

“Kinda.” I looked up and started to think. “My real mother ditched my egg in the Badlands. Probably would've been lost there if Princess Celestia hadn't found my egg.” I tilted my head. “I guess that makes her my mother? But she didn't hatch me though.”

I looked between my feet and thought some more. “Twilight's the one that did that, so maybe that makes her my mother? Ack. Feels weird just saying that.” I looked at the confused pony. “Look, she might have hatched me, but Celestia was the one that raised us both... kinda.”

“K-Kinda?”

“We had Twilight's parents raising us when Celestia wasn't raising us.” I squinted my eyes. “You know, for something so important, you'd I would have an answer for such important questions.” I sighed. “Are these even important questions? Dang, Pinkie's getting to me already.”

“Look, dragon, I just want—“

“Name's Spike.”

“Didn't ask for it.”

“And I didn't ask for you, and yet, here you are.”

The pony glared at me.

I didn't like him too much. “So what is it you want anyway? The pink mare ain't here—only me.”

“Find me that Pinkie,” the pony said as he put his hooves on the counter, “or this little establishment of yours will be under investigation by the law.” He glared up at me, smirking. “To I make myself clear, dragon?”

“Oh, perfectly.” I yanked him by the throat, my claw reaching all around, and I raised him above the counter. “The law will be here, alright, just not for the reasons you think.” I clenched my claw and heard him choke. “Give me the reason why you want to see Pinkie?”

His legs kicked in the air.

“Or should I just give my reasons to the law when they find your corpse on the ground?”

His legs stopped kicking.

“Good boy.” My eyes narrowed on their own. “Now start talking.”

“S-She... she cheated me!”

“Oh?” I tightened my grip even further, delighting as I could almost feel something cracking. “And how did a cute mare do something like that?”

“S-She cheated me by a bit!” He squeaked out. A tear welled in his eyes; something tore at my heart. Exhaling heavily, I loosened my grip. “She gave me four bits instead of five. T-That's all!”

My head dropped. “All this over a missing bit?”

“Yes, yes!” His voice cracked as his sobs were soon approaching. “I was just upset! I... I don't like being cheated by anyone!”

“And I get that.” I lowered him to my face. “But did you really have to come in here, punching and shouting, without giving any reasons as to why?” I brought him closer. “What if she didn't mean to cheat you? What if it was an accident? What if you miscounted or misunderstood? Do you think aggression is the best first response.”

“T-T-Take no offense, f-friend, but are you qualified to be saying something like that?” I felt him gulp from the bulge passing across my palm. “ I've had civil disputes like this b-before, but none that... well, had me hung up.”

I'm a screw-up. I know I was, am, and will always be one. Because no matter how many times I screwed up, I'd never realized it when it was happening—only when someone else came to rub my nose in my mistakes would I recognize the scent of failure.

“Suppose you got me there,” I replied, lowering him to the ground but keeping my claw on him. “But you shouldn't have acted so rash around a dragon.”

“Y-You being a dragon is an excuse to grab someone by the throat?”

“That's wasn't an excuse,” I replied, “that was an explanation. You keep this up, and I'm bound to explain some more. Understand?”

“C-Crystal.”

“Good,” I said, pulling back my claw. “Now here's what we're going to do.” I reached to the side of the register, where notes and pens had been left, and I took one of each. “You're going to write your name and your address on this note.”

“And why would I do something like this?”

“It depends on the kind of explanation you want.” I pressed my knuckle on the wood, hearing its every crack. “You write down your information—a wonderful review as well—and in a few days, you'll get a pouch of bits at your door.”

I stared into his brown eyes, hard enough to see my reflection, my sinister expression, and I only smirked all the more. “But you speak a word of this to anyone? I'll be the one that shows up at your door.”

“I...” the pony levitated the pen as he wrote on the note. “... go with the first explanation, kind sir.”

“You're smart to do that,” I replied. I put my claw over the note. “But not smart if a word you write turns out to be a lie.” My claw curled into a fist. “You don't want a dragon to come looking for you, do ya?”

“No, sir.” I pulled my claw back, watched him write. When finished, he dropped the pen. “You will have no issues from me.” He stepped back, doing his best to smile. “But as to the matter of bits I am set to receive...”

“Enough that you can be cheated your whole life and still come out on top.”

“Then today has been a profitable day.” The pony turned to the door, walking, almost bolting toward it. “M-May you have one as well!”

I watched as he blurred past the doors, which swung from his speed. “As soon as you're gone, I will.”

I sighed and shook my head. What the heck was that? Threatening ponies now? Customer for a job that wasn't mine, all to help a marefriend who was anything but? Anger seethed in me. There was only so much absurdity I could take before some blew inside me.

I'm not a good dragon. I'll admit that freely. Hard to find anyone who would doubt that, other than family. There was no reason to it—being bad I mean. It was just easier to do, a lot more fun to handle, and it got this thing... this venom out from my veins.

But I'd never strangled a pony before.

And even worse.

It felt good.

“So folks!” I lifted my head to gaze out to the distant booth, where from before, a couple sat, drinking a milkshake, though they'd stopped doing that a while ago. Instead, they watched me, holding hooves tightly as they did so. “Are you enjoying your experience at Sugar Cube Corner?”

They only shivered.

“How about writing down a review!” I exclaimed. “Please be sure to leave your address below for a chance to win some bits!”

V - Cleaning Up

~ V ~

Cleaning Up

“Ain't this just grand?” I sighed. “First job where I have to pay to work.”

I was mad. I was upset. I felt cheated and abused, disgusted with myself yet strangely proud at the same time. Everyone had left, of course, leaving me alone at the till with nothing but thoughts to keep me company. It was no different from being in my room, really, except for not being allowed to sleep on the floor.

Why the hell was I doing all this anyway? The silly game with Pinkie wouldn't work out. She was my marefriend. Marefriend! That word didn't make a lick of sense—didn't even feel real. Because it wasn't real. It was a fake word put onto her for the sake of a game.

Why wasn't I at home? Finally, free for a few days, and how do I spend it? Losing money while working for someone else. It got me outside, sure, and interacting with others, sure, but that hadn't done me a whole lot of good. Big Mac and all them were wrong—I'm better off doing my own thing.

So I debated about leaving. It was a jerk thing to do. I'd be leaving Pinkie high and dry, the store unattended, and further consequences I couldn't care to think about. But on the flip-side, I would be at home, in my room, safe, alone, trying to enjoy myself.

But isn't that what you always do?

“Oh c'mon!” I shook my head. “You again? Why can't my thoughts leave me in peace?”

Because humor is your escape from responsibility.

“You kidding?” I muttered to myself, not caring how crazy I looked—I'd given up on how I looked a long time ago. “That crystal castle wouldn't be standing if it weren't for me! All the cleaning and paperwork I do for Twilight. C'mon, get real!”

You take responsibility only when you are without choice. It wasn't often my thoughts took to spoken words, things said in my own voice, which was darker and harsher and never pleasant. You meet the favors of friends well, but is the same true when it comes to favors to yourself?

“Because I don't need any favors to myself!” I said in a hushed whisper. “I do what I wanna and don't do what I don't wanna do. There's nothing else to it. No one keeps me accountable for useless stuff like that.”

Convenient excuse, my thoughts said, but good has that done you? The little things mattered as much as the big things, or rather, everything means nothing in the end.

“We're going for a debate now?” I closed my eyes. “I swear, the only way to beat depression is to outwit it.”

You're depressed? Is that what this is?

“I... don't know.”

How about you take accountability for your behavior, you useless dragon.

“I've already paid them all off!”

I meant for this job you've taken unto yourself. No one forced you into this, as much as you like to blame others—you offered, and now, you desire to back out. Your responsibility ends when no one forces accountability onto you.

“It's Twilight's fault then!” I clenched my fist, debating about kicking my own butt. Maybe that would shut him up. “She didn't show me enough guidance me—“

Guide yourself, Spike. The voice faded. It's your responsibility to take accountability for yourself. No one else will, or should, do that for you.

That crappy voice came around when everyone else was gone. The world felt barren whenever it showed up, like I was in a different, absurd world, where ponies were near but never close. Lonely. I was alone. But I didn't know why.

I looked around the shop to see the empty seats, dirty tables, and dusty floors. I arched an eyebrow at the low stock of treats on display, then to the messy papers on the table behind the counter. No sounds came from the kitchen—nothing was cooking.

I then looked back to the door, the sweet closed door, able to me away, back to my home, then inside my room. It was easy and free, no effort required, no responsibility to be handled, no accountability forced on me for what may or may not have happened early.

I could also ignore this silly challenge with Pinkie until we both forgot about it.

“But that isn't an option, is it?” I said to myself, walking over to the table, staring at a record player on top of it. “You'd just give me trouble all night. Saying I have no one to make me accountable when I have to listen to you all the time.”

There was already a record in the player, a country tune given from Applejack. Country music wasn't really my jam but, looking around, I didn't have any other scores to go with. Shrugging my shoulders, I put the needle down, picked up a nearby mop, then got my butt to work.

I saw a big ol' dragon in the mountains! The music played from the player, loud enough to waft across the store, but not enough to carry upstairs. Oh he was big and mean, scary too, holding a cart bigger than me!

“Come on you stupid mop!” I ducked the mop into the trolley and chemically mixed water. “Get wet already! I got cleaning to do!”

Afraid and scared, not knowing my fare, or if he was fair. The mop took to the water. I lifted it, heavier than it was a second ago, dropping against the wood and well... mopping. He let out a roar, and I wanted to soar.

“When was the last time they washed these floors!” I groaned as pushed the mop hard enough to almost scrape the ground. “They almost of a layer of filth coated into the wood!” I scraped harder and fast. “Damn it and damn you!”

But my wings were broke and unable to work. I went to step past a set of table, my foot catching on the trolley, knocking the bucket, and all its water, onto the floor. There would be no escape from that cave, oh how could I have been so naive?

“I will never drink water for as long as I live!” I cried out as I took a step back, my foot slipping on the liquid, my head and back slamming against the ground. I yelled with my mouth closed, striking a fist into the air.

The dragon took me in his claw, and I thought of all my flaws, as I faced his deadly maw. Biting my bottom lip, I returned to my feet, picking up my fallen broom as I did so and, choosing not to give up despite the bullshit, mopped the floor once more. He blew his flame, which I couldn't blame, all over my frame.

“Aha!” I cried in a victory. “Smells like bleach and ammonia mixed into one!” I looked across the floor of the store, slipper signs placed all over the floor, which shined all over. “Pain in the butt, though.” I cracked my head left and right, looking back over to the counter: a spray-bottle and cloth awaited me. “Aw heck. Why didn't I offer to do Pinkie's sleeping for her?”

When I opened my eyes, I found I was alive, and very much surprised. I sprayed the top of the tables, flinching when crumbs shot away, closing an eye when my cloth touched the hardened remains of a milkshake. My fur around but my wounds nowhere to be found.

Table. Spray and wipe, making it clean. Another table. Another Spray. Another wiping. Over and over until those tops shined in the sunlight. The scent from the floor waned from my nose. The store was starting to feel a bit more alive—and that, for some reason, motivated me to keep cleaning the filth.

The dragon set me on the ground, without a second thought, making me bound to cart he had found. I stood behind the counter, breathing heavier than I should, looking out toward the store. There were a glint and a shine to every thing, a scent and scene of cleanliness that I made happen.

The cart was broken, but if I wasn't mistaken, it didn't have to be forsaken.

“Just a shame I'm not getting paid for any of this,” I muttered to myself, placing my claws on my hips. “But I guess helping out is the greatest reward. Or, something like that, I think?” I shook my head; no point in thinking when work was to be done. “Aw, screw it. Let get that kitchen boiling.”

So that dragon and I, together as one, worked ourselves the bone. I flipped open the cookbook sitting next to the player, opening to a page that had a sticky note attached. A plethora of treats stared back at me, but only a few possessed pink circles around them. A broken cart with tools inside; everything it needed to be fixed, except for willing friends.

“Alright, chill out. It's like cooking for Twilight.” I breathe slowly, standing inside the kitchen, staring at all the pots and pans, foods and ingredients, and a hanging portrait that spoke of quality and customer satisfaction. “Only you're cooking for other ponies who, y'know, could get sick from your cooking, call you the worst chef to have ever lived... and other things.”

Well let me have a board, and a saw, and I'll cut it. I poured the flour into the bowl, mixing it with sugar whatever else the book told me to do. I stirred it, wiping my brow as I did so. Give the dragon a nail, and he'll nail it.

“Alright, it's an oven. No big deal.” I gulped, putting the tray on its top shelf. “You have one at home as well... only it doesn't have a million buttons.” Closing its door, I covered my eyes, and let my claw click the keys randomly. “Here goes nothing!”

The big ol' wheel, bigger than me, stood up so free. Loud beeping came from the oven as I rolled the dough straight, my nose sniffing the smoke in the air. I yelped, covered my mouth, and made a run for the burning cookies. The dragon the cart up, its side hinge free, as I kneed the wheel into its slot.

“Part two!” I said as my chest pounded. I put the tray inside the oven like both were set to explode. “And just time, hopefully, with less fire!”

No matter, any weather, we're together! I straightened the dough, baked the cookies, and has a few eggs sizzling from a distant pan. Probably wasn't the best idea to cook the day's order in an hour, but I was set to impress Pinkie and the Cakes for whatever reason. Dragon or pony, it don't matter, as long as we're together!

“Easy now!” My claw balanced the try of cookies, not needing the mittens, enjoying that I had scales for once in my life. “Rows of four. Sixteen in total for display.” I blinked as I smelled something smoking again. “Aw crap, the eggs!' I rushed toward the stove and nearly dropped my tray in the process.

We worked together, put that cart back to together, hopefully forever.

“Just slide you in, and that is it!” I stepped back from the display, sliding the thin wall behind it shut. The treats were on show, illuminated and kept warm by an overhead light. “Didn't get them all done, but... that should be enough for now.”

Now on my way home, my problems none, my eyes focusin' on the sun. The song repeated a few times, bits sometimes making it past my eyes, but I finally found time to listen to its ending properly. Behind me was a wagon, further than that was a dragon, a friend indeed, for all the ponies to see!

I squinted my eyes. “This song was about a dragon?”

A beast but not a foe, a dragon to call my own, a dear friend to my soul. The song faded as the needle lifted. A dragon and a friend, a friend and a dragon, a wagon for us both.

And the song ended.

“Celestia that song sucked.” I shook my head. “What does Applejack even see in that kind of music, much less Pinkie?” I sighed. “Oh well. Better go stack to papers and—“

A chime sounded from the door. “Pinkie? Are you here? We're home!”

VI - Steadfast Coffee

~ VI ~

Steadfast Coffee

“Spike?” Ms. Cake said. “Why, it's been so long! It's such a delight to see you.”

“And you as well, Ms. Cake.” I nodded my head. “Hope you don't mind, but I took over the shop for the last hour or so.” I sighed. “Pinkie wasn't feeling well, so I figured I'd help out.” I clenched my left eye. “That isn't a problem, is it?'”

“These floors!” Mr. Cake drew my attention with his exclaiming. He was sliding a hoof across the wood like he was going to skate across it. “Did you do this yourself, son?”

“Mostly.” I exhaled with relief. “We didn't have too many ponies come in today, so I figured I'd get some cleaning down. Floors and tables have been mopped and wiped down. Most of today orders have been cooked.” I pointed a thumb over my shoulder toward the doors of the kitchen. “You still have another batch of cookies in the—“

“Already taken care of!” I turned around to see Pinkie backing through those doors, two trays balancing on her back and rump. She looked happier than the last time I saw her. “Got 'em to the perfect tempura too! These look delicious.”

“And they smell delicious too!” Ms. Cake said, and when I turned back, she was smiling up at me. “I knew you were a chef, Spike, but I didn't know you could handle a kitchen all by yourself.”

“And neither did I,” I replied, surprise catching in my voice. “Didn't know I could do something like this until I... actually did it, I suppose.”

The praise rendered my body hollow.

“That's just how most things in life work, my boy.” Mr Cake walked back to the counter. “You can only know how well you're at something by giving it a try!” He smiled at me—it was genuine, that I was sure, but for whatever reason, it all felt so... fake. “Perhaps you'll be willing to try this again sometime soon? We could sure use the help later in the season.”

“I'll... have to see what Twilight says about that.”

“I understand completely.”

“Boy, that was weird.”

Pinkie stared up at me. “There was a boy? Why was here weird?”

“I didn't mean it like that.” I shook my head as we walked side by side. We were heading down the streets of Ponyville. We'd passed the town hall. I stared at it for a little while. It was a cool, neat thing to look at. “I mean that having the Cakes walk in like that and, y'know, compliment me and all that.”

“Compliments are weird?”

“They are for me.”

“You're weird.”

“Rich, coming from you.”

“I'm rich?”

“Never mind.”

It's safe to say most of our conversations were pointless. They teased my brain alright. Sometimes, they were complex questions disguised as simple ones, and they threw me for a loop once or twice. I felt as smart as Twilight when I could answer them.

Sometimes, I didn't even know what the answer was until I answered. It felt like I was pulling words out from under my tail, but then again, I don't know of any other way to answer things. Just the way I go about things, I suppose—I don't know.

“Mind if we hold up a second?”

Pinkie walked a few steps ahead. She stopped. She turned around. She looked up at me not annoyed or confused but smiling with an arched eyebrow. “Okie-Doke. What's up?!”

“That building over there?” I pointed to City Hall behind us. “Did you get a look at it while we passed it?”

“Of course I did, silly!” Pinkie came before me. “I see it every day on my daily strolls. It looks super-duper cool!”

“But have you been inside of it?”

“Once or twice. There was when we first met Twilight, and then when we gave Applejack that award—we've been inside there plenty of times, now that I think about it.” Pinkie tilted her head. “Why? Do you wanna go inside there now?”

“I don't think we're allowed inside of there.”

“Says who?”

“The government.”

“Yeah, sometimes they can be pretty mean.”

Pinkie turned and stared at the building.

I did so too.

“It's weird how many cool buildings we come across in life, but never check inside.” I exhaled heavily as my eyes focused on the building's windows. “There's gotta be stuff going on in there, y'know? Ponies working. Going upstairs or across halls. Must be a lot of stuff happening inside those walls that we don't see.”

“I guess so.”

“It always feels like I'm going to explore building like those one day.” I blinked. What the heck was I going on about? “Kinda like an adventure, y'know? For whatever reason, there's going to be a time when I have to go inside those buildings, explore everything inside, and then meet with someone important to discuss... important things.”

“Sounds super important.”

I chuckled. “You're telling me.”

“So how about we go inside?”

I looked down at Pinkie. She was standing at my side, closer than any friend should be, but not touching me, as a proper marefriend should. It boggled my mind of how close and how far we both were to each other. It still seemed fake, but reality cared not for what I thought.

“We can't just walk inside of there,” I replied. “We need to have a reason or something.”

“Silly dragon.” Pinkie walked forward, glancing over her shoulder at me. “You don't need a reason to go anywhere—you just go!” She continued forward, with or without me, so I caught up to her. “And if ya want, you can find a reason for the trip along the way!”

“I don't know, Pinkie.” We stopped before the double doors. My heart pounded. “Still feels wrong to walk inside there with nothing.”

“Then let's get them something!” Pinkie narrowed her eyes and started looking around, stopping when her head stopped right. Her puffy mane bounced along with her movements. “There! We'll get 'em that!”

“Get who what now?”

“Everyone gets coffee!” Pinkie walked along the rim concrete of the building, coming along its side until she stepped off and onto the grass, approaching a stand along the road. “You coming or what?!”

“Yeah yeah!” It's always movement and momentum with Pinkie. Either you're sitting still and talking fast, or you're silent and walking fast. Constant exercise and cerebral exertion were consistent with her. “I'm coming! Don't walk so fast!”

This wasn't any different from being with Twilight—only if you had to always be on a treadmill while talking to her. She didn't get much out either.

“Say Mr.,” Pinkie started to say when I arrived, “do you know how many ponies work in that office? I need you to be super-duper accurate, okay?”

“Miss, do I look like I work in city hall?”

“I don't know,” Pinkie replied. “Do you?”

“No, I don't.”

“Oh.”

I stepped in front of her. “Pinkie, what are you trying to do?”

“Buying coffee for everyone in City Hall!”

“And why are you doing that?”

“Because you want to explore and meet ponies!” Pinkie threw her hooves into the air. “And Fluttershy said that kindness is the best reason to do both of those reasons!”

“So we're going to help those workers?”

“Yup!”

“By buying coffee?”

“Yup!”

“Coffee from strangers?”

“Strangers are just a friend you haven't made yet!”

“You're bound to make some strange friends that way.”

“And a stranger drakefriend too!”

That right. I forgot. When I got too caught up in life, I was prone to forget how pathetic I was—my lot wasn't much different from bums on the street. I was weird and strange. Only I disguised it as wit and charm, which was better than most.

But underneath it all, I was the same as them—whoever they were.

“Alright, buddy.” I turned to the stand, leaning on the counter with my elbow. “Level with me. How many ponies with suits order from you?”

“I beg your pardon?” The stallion shook his head. “Listen, pal, if you and you're mare ain't ordering—“

“We're ordering,” I interrupted, my eyes narrowing. “And if we're trying to order for an entire building, then that means a whole lot of bits for you.” I let a sigh slip through my lips, making sure my claws did not curl. “So help us out? We're paying customers, after all.”

“If yer so keen on numbers, then try ordering ten.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Only ten?”

“I'm in the business of makin' and not wastin'.” He nodded toward City Hall. “They got more than that in there, but not everypony there works everyday. Fewer actually drink coffee.” He glanced back but only to look at Pinkie. “Yer marefriend's nice. Whole lot nicer than you. Two of 'em are free since Y'all are being kind.”

I tucked my lips inward, repressing my anger by stabbing my fangs into them. Once done, I leaned in closer to the booth, my voice becoming a whisper, “Listen, buddy, I can be kind too!”

“Yer choice of words says otherwise, buddy.”

“Oh yeah?” I went to reach for my waist. “How about I pay for all those drinks, all ten of them, twelve even—one for you and one for me.”

“I don't drink coffee.” My claw tapped against my bare waist. “And paying ponies off don't make you kind either. Only makes ya more of a tool.”

“Ya callin' me a tool?” My lip lifted to expose my fangs. “How about you and I meet at the bar tonight? Show you just how good my claws are—“

“Is everything okay, Spikey?”

My world shattered. My focus broke away from the stallion, his body becoming blurry as I stepped away. I was breathing heavily, swallowing my anger. “P-Perfect, Pinkie.”

“You kids paying?”

“Of course we are!” Pinkie reached a hoof into her mane, pulling out a small pouch, something I rarely saw happen in my life. As she poured bits onto the counter, I wondered how many things she had stored away in there—and if it ever weighed her down. “Ten coffees for twenty bits. Right?”

“You got it.” The stallions swiped the bits into his booth. He disappeared inside of it, the sounds of machines roaring from within. “I don't know how those fancy folk takes their Joe!” His voice was distant and echoed off the wood. “I have a near empty carton of cream ya can take. Help yourself to the packets of sugar.”

“Thank you, mister!”

I stood around, silently, hating myself per usual. I had gone to pay only to realize I'd left my pouch and bits at home. This was my first date, and for whatever reason, I was letting my partner, my mare, pay for everything.

Any pride in being a male died.

“Almost done now!”

Someone cleared their throat.

It was Pinkie. She glared at me. “What are you waiting for?”

“What do you mean?”

“Say thank you!”

“What, to that guy? I hate him!”

“He's kind to us!” Pinkie slammed her elbow into my waist. “You're supposed to say 'thank you' when ponies are kind!”

“Hey! You just touched me.”

“The first trial is that you can't touch me.” Pinkie pulled back her hoof. “And say it! Ponies don't have to be kind, so we thank them when they are.”

“He wasn't kind to me.”

“Nopony's perfect!”

The stallion returned. “Here's yer drinks. Hey, tool? Try usin' yer claws to hold the trays.” He had two trays, four in each, resting on his back. I lifted both of them all, fighting the urge to lift him by his throat instead. “I reckon the mare doesn't need a tray for the last two.”

“Yup!” Pinkie leaned over the counter, curling her forelegs around the two cups, lifting them not to her back but her mane, letting her curly strands hold them in place. “My hair is a natural cup holder!”

I glanced back at the stallion. “Does that violate any health codes?”

He leaned in. “I reckon it's fine until the flap opens.”

“Suppose you're right.” I took a moment to catch my breath, hold the trays up, and then stare into the stallion's eye. “About everything. Sorry about what happened.”

“You ain't my worst customer.” After he had said that, he used his hoof to reel me closer, which I did. We both watched pinkie as she collected packets of sugar, stuffing them into her pouch. “But ya better hope ya ain't her worst coltfriend. She's too good for that, ya hear?”

“We're not really dating, to be honest with you.”

“Are ya out together on a date?”

“Sort of,” I replied. “But we're making a game out of it.”

“A date is a game, son.” The stallion tapped my shoulder, causing me to look at him. “That mare is testin' you in her way. All mares do it—they just do it differently.” I patted my back. “Now go show her ya can be kind. Grumpiness will make you a loner fer life.”

It seemed like everyone had advice for me.

“Guess you're right.” I pulled away from the counter and stood tall. “The name's Spike. And I forget your name?”

“Steadfast.”

“Well Steadfast, I wouldn't shake your hoof even if my claws were free.”

“And I feel the same.” For whatever reason, we both smiled at each other, our humor somehow the same. Was I not the only strange one in these parts? “Say, you breathe fire and all that, don't ya?”

“Met three little piggies and a wolf once,” I replied. “Ended up eating the wolf while the pigs hid inside a house. Went to blow it down, but I blew flames instead—ended up sending them up to the mountains somewhere.”

“So your fire can send objects to far off places.”

“Something like that.” I arched an eyebrow. “Why the interest.”

“I got a reason.” The stallion nodded to the right, where Pinkie was approaching us both. “And you got a date to be kind to.” We turned and smiled at Pinkie. “You find some free time tonight, and you pay me a visit, all right?”

“I'll see what I can do.”

“What'cha talking about?”

“We're trying to figure out if the moon is made out of cheese,” I replied, stepping forward. “It would explain what Princess Luna ate for a thousand years. But it doesn't explain how there's still a moon left after that.”

“Maybe she used her magic to make more cheese!”

We started walking away from the stand, with me waving the back of my claw—I felt important when I did that.

“Can magic even do that?”

“Can Twilight do that?”

I shook my head. “But Twilight's on a different level when it comes to magic.”

Pinkie stepped to my side again, her fur an inch from my scales. “Are you saying Luna isn't as powerful as Twilight?”

“I mean, Nightmare Moon got beat for a reason...”

VII - Thiller

~ VII ~

Thiller

“Coffee, sir?”

“I... beg your pardon?”

“Would you, uh, like a cup of coffee?”

“I didn't bring any bits with me to work.”

“It's... free of charge.”

The stallion blinked. He rotated on his chair, looking up at me. “Is there something wrong with it? Who's paying?”

“Nothing's wrong it with. Brewed a minute ago.” Couldn't this guy take the coffee without assuming it was poisoned? I get it—situations weird an all that. But if I wanted to harm him, I'd just use my claws are somethin'. “My marefriend and I thought we'd do something kind today.”

“Oh?”

“Also might have wanted an excuse to walk around city hall.”

The stallion's muzzle dropped as he sighed. When he looked back up, he held out his hooves and, quickly, I handed him a cup from the tray. I reached into the pouch tied around my waist.

“Don't bother,” he said, nodding. “I take my coffee as black as midnight on a moonless night. Thank you for this.” He set the cup on his desk, leaving the lid off, steam escaping. “Wish we actually had something to show you folk. Afraid everything's kinda barren around here.”

“Defiantly not a tourist attraction, that's for sure.” I looked up from the cubicle and stared across the ground floor. There really wasn't much to the building. The entrance was grand and vast, the ceiling out of reach with a beautiful staircase. “But to be honest? I enjoy it. Glad I came in here for once.”

“How's that?” The stallion said. He reclined into his backrest. “I come here every day and never gladly. Maybe you're seeing something I'm missing?”

“Nothing that important.” I took a step back, cracking my neck. “I just past by this building and never knew what it was like inside. It's cool. Nothing extraordinary, unless I have an interest in how legal works, but still, all you ponies are neat.”

“What's neater is the ponies we deal with.”

“That so?”

“Check this out.” He turned to his desk, gesturing to a stack of paper atop it. “You want to know what today's case is? Our sprinkler system.”

“Sprinkler's not working?”

“No, they're working. They've just got something in the water.” He pressed a hoof against the bridge of his nose. “A lady came in sick today. Said she use the water from a sprinkler to make tea.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Wants a settlement. That, or she takes the case to Princess Celestia herself.”

“So much logic and the law.”

“You're telling me.” It was strange to say that I liked the stallion. He dressed nice, shirt and vest matched with a tie, all with a clean face and swept mane. “Can't let this slip through my hooves either. If another silly case makes it to royalty, Mayor Mare will have my life's work collected in a box.”

“Guess I'm lucky in that way,” I said. “If Twilight ever fires me, all my stuff is already packed in my room.” I chuckled, and so did he, something he didn't have to do because the joke wasn't all that funny. “Say, what's your name anyway?”

“...it's not a pleasant one.”

“I got named Spike because Twilight pricked herself with one of my spines.” I scratched the back of my neck. “My last name is also Dragon. Not much surprise you can do.”

There probably was, to be honest. This stallion looked like the kind of guy I would hate on the street. Clean and good looking, posture always tall, eyes alive with the spirit of the sun. Sophistication and he got along well. He looked smart but kind, approachable and attractive—a perfect kind of guy, and everything I was not.

And yet, we hit it off pretty well.

“Name's... Book Eater.”

I arched an eyebrow. “No joke?”

“Parent slacked around even after I was born.” He chuckled, his perfect bangs covering his eyes. He pushed it back with a hoof—a movement that made even my heart race. “When I was a foal, they caught me eating the pages of some book. Got a real kick out of it too.” He lifted his head. “From then on, my life's been one real joke.”

I lowered my head. “Explains why you work for the government.”

“Devoured enough books to handle the paperwork.” Book tucked his lips inward. “Just not enough to handle ponies it seems.”

“Try not to sweat that so much.” I took a step back, holding up the tray, not wanting the rest of the coffee to get cold. “Look, I can't make any promises, but Princess Celestia and I... used to be tight once upon a time. If anything comes of this, I'll make sure she inks out your name, alright?”

“I... don't know what to say.” He shook his head and his stupidly gorgeous mane again. “That's kind of you, but... you have connections to royalty?” He blinked. “You do stuff like this all the time?”

“Nah,” I replied. “Barely get out of my room to be honest with you. If anything, I won't hear the end of it from Celestia.” I sighed heavier than I should. “She'll be annoyed that I haven't talked to her lately.” I looked back at him. “But don't you worry. She'll do the favor.”

“Not really worried about the favor.” Book smiled. “It's just crazy you're friends with royalty, y'know? That you can just write a letter to the princesses, asking for favors and making arrangements.” He chuckled. “You sound very important.”

“Only in my head.” I stepped back. And then again. “I've just had the luck to be around important ponies in my life. As for me? I'm nothing to shake a stick at.” My claw was starting to curl again, but it was strange, for lies weren't spilling from my lips. “Just a useless guy who hangs around.”

“You're important to me, mate.” Book turned, picked up his coffee, turning back to lift it into the air. “Never had royalty bring me a surprise coffee. You really lighten up my day!”

“Y-You're welcome.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “But I better get off to giving the rest of this coffee. It was, uh, nice meeting you and all that.”

“The same to you.” Book put the coffee back on the table, not making mention of my sudden nervousness. He was a pro, socially speaking. He was better than me in every way, and yet, treated me like an equal. He actually thought it should have worked the opposite way—how wrong he was.

I wasn't the savor of Equestria—my closest kinship to heroism is falling with a crystal heart to my death. Cadence saved the day. When it came to Nightmare Moon, it was Twilight, backed by the Elements of Harmony, who saved her, and then, quite possibly, the world.

I haven't done much because I am not much. I'll listen to Twilight during her peaks of anxiety, or assistant Rarity in creating her cloths—I'm there, always and ready, to listen and help each of the girls. And that help. I don't know how and how much it does, but sometimes, I like to think that, were it not for me, a villain would have torn the group apart, or a girl lost herself to madness.

Then I realized how foolish my thoughts are, and how it's better for me not to think.

“You ever go to Tracks at all?”

I blinked, escaping my thoughts. “What did you say?”

“Tracks. The bar on the edge of Ponyville?”

“Go there almost every night.” I flicked my muzzle up. “You go there?”

“Haven't had the pleasure yet.” Book pointed a hoof upward. “Some of us like to party once the work is done. We're thinking of giving that place a try sometime soon.” He smiled at me. “Perhaps we'll find you there one fine evening.”

“Knowing me? I'm sure you will.” I turned around and faced the door. It lead into the hallway. I felt strangely strong and weak, filled and drained, at the same time. “It's been good talking to you. Really good talking to you. Hold in there, alright.”

I didn't see his face, but I heard his voice.

“The same to you, my friend.”

VIII - Intelligence and Kindness

~ VIII ~

Intellgence and Kindess

“How'd you work out... marefriend?”

“Everything worked out super!” Pinkie hopped as we walked. We'd found each other in the hall. We were wandering now. “Except for this one pony. He was sleeping at his desk. I don't think you're allowed to sleep when you're at work.”

“Maybe he was working too hard?” I offered. “Did twice the work and needed some rest?”

“Maaaaaaaybe.”

We only had two cups now, both in the tray.

“So,” Pinkie started as she looked up at me, “was this awesome or what? Did you see everything you wanted to?”

“Wasn't really expecting to see anything, but yeah, I enjoyed myself.” To be honest, despite how open and grand the building was, there wasn't much I was paying attention to. My heart still pricked whenever I was near Pinkie—she was my marefriend, something I never thought I have, and took years to get.

If marefriend was something you have, of course.

But more and more, my eyes were drawn to her body, to the pink fur covering her frame, the supple, layer of flesh that looked all so squeezable. She was like a walking toy in a way; had the same ascetic as one, anyway.

And, as a guy, her flanks always occupied a corner in my eyes.

There wasn't a sway in her stride. Pinkie never flaunted what she had, almost like she didn't know she had it. She had a strange innocence in that way. Unfortunately for her, I had no such thing, and looked and consumed and enjoyed as I pleased.

And her flanks ever very much pleasing.

They would jiggle with every step, shift, and dance. They were small but subtle, but when I caught them, it made my heart beat that much faster. Like I was the only who had seen it. Her rump had the perfect curve to it. Each cheek was pronounced but not proportionate, enough there to fill a claw, but looking firm to be more than enough.

And the way her tail brushed over flank. She was dancing in her own way, playing a game I couldn't play. I doubted I was the first to admire Pinkie for her body, for how plush and soft she looked, how I wanted to stroke her puffy mane and have a little grab at something below.

I shook my head. Stupid Spike. What were you doing? That's the kind of thing you save for a magazine underneath a pillow, not perverted thoughts to be spent on a friend... marefriend. There wasn't much of difference between the two right now. Right?

Crud. She was talking. Listen, idiot.

“Should we give the mayor her coffee?”

“Sounds good with me.” She smiled. We went on our way. “Before that, though, may I ask you a question?”

“Is it a silly question?”

“Depends on the way you look at it.” I shook my head. Now wasn't the time for shallow logic. “Look. This first trial where I can't touch you... how long is it going to last?”

“Why?” Pinkie paused as we came into the main hall. There was a staircase leading up into the mayor's office. We'd stopped at its first step. “Do you want to touch me, Spike?”

“Can I be honest?”

“You don't need my permission to be honest, Spikey.”

Pinkie could be clever in her own right. Some assumed she was a party animal and nothing more. She played herself down. She was smarter than she let on. I never knew why—I'd only learn this about her recently.

“I kinda thought the whole point about getting a marefriend was to touch her, really.” The temptation to drive a fang through my tongue was strong. Of course, I was stupid, but how could I be so stupid to let others know I was so stupid? “That's not the whole relationship! Just... a huge chunk of it, y'know?”

Pinkie did something unexpected. No frowns, no cries, no running away. No, no, no. What Pinkie did, what no other pony would have done for me, was smile. Pinkie smiled at me. She gave me a smile to was so fragile and perfect, that showed me so much in an instant that nighttime of talking couldn't hope to expose.

“Of course ponies and dragons and all kind of creatures want to touch each other, Spike.” Pinkie's smile started to wane as her speech went on. “You don't think I want to lay my hooves on your chest? Give your belly a little rub?”

I blinked. “You do?”

“Of course I do.” Pinkie rolled her eyes. “There's a whole lot of bad that I like to do to you, at you, with you. And I'm probably sure there's a whole punch if icky things you'd like to do to me too.” She tilted her head. “Right?”

“...I'm not sure if icky is the right word to use.”

“You know what I mean, silly.” Pinkie exhaled heavily. “Listen, Spike. I'm thrilled you took this challenge—hanging out with you has been a whole lot of fun! But I also hope you've been having a whole lot of fun too, and not feeling chum.”

“Never in your presence, Pinkie.”

That was a lie. It was a lie to make her feel better and nothing more. No matter where I was or who I was with, I was always going to be... me. My thoughts and feelings would always consume me. It was just the way how things were. Times were better when Pinkie's around.

But it's hard to tell a pony they don't make you feel happy.

“But... You seem like a smart dragon, Spike.”

“Smartness? That's just the residue Twilight left on me.”

“Not that kind of smart, you silly, silly little boy.” Pinkie's eyes narrowed as she glanced between her hooves. She was looking down. Her head was down. Everything about her was down. This was something I wasn't used to. “You're smart in your own kind of way. You say things in a way that makes life make a little more... sense.”

Then Pinkie looked up at me. Her muzzle and eyes were staring up at me, eyes glinting, mouth smiling. “You can make ponies happy, but... that's not something you always do, is it?”

There's something I'll never lie about, something that doesn't need to be covered up, if only because it comes at my expense. I can always speak about how awful I am; it seems like the only thing that's real, that's genuine about me.

“Not when they don't deserve it.” My eyes narrowed on their own. “I like helping ponies. It... it makes me feel better about myself. It gives me something to do. But ponies don't listen. Ponies are stupid. But I'm stupider than the lot of them.”

“Am I stupid?”

“I don't know,” I said to her. “But I doubt it.”

We stood around in silence for the moment. The first time silence had wormed its way between us. Between her questions, my answers, and our combined ramblings, the way was always filled with something. Now though, in this moment of blunt honesty, all that was left was to think.

I glanced up the staircase. “C'mon. We should see that mayor before these drinks get cold.”

Pinkie nodded.

IX - A Mission from Mayor Mare

~ IX ~

A Mission from Mayor Mare

“The mayor can't see you now.”

“Mayor Mare lost her vision?” Pinkie said from my side. “That's horrible!”

“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “Will she be alright?”

“There's... nothing wrong with her vision.” The mare behind the desk blinked, seated next to the doors leading into the office. “She's just very busy at the moment. She doesn't really, you know, take sudden appointments.” She blinked. “Perhaps you would like to try booking one?”

“Listen, lady. We're not looking to sit down and chat with her.” I pointed to the tray in my claw. “We just wanna give her coffee before it goes lukewarm.”

“I'm not sure I'm allowed to do that.”

Pinkie opened her mouth, stepping forward, but I put my claw in front of her. “Alright, you got me. This isn't a simply coffee delivery.”

The sectary narrowed her eyes.

“This cup of coffee is from Princess Twilight Sparkle herself.” I cleared my throat and let my gaze sweep across the room. I wasn't looking for anyone; I was just pretending to be important. “And along with it is an urgent issue. One that can't leave a trail behind.”

The sectary opened her mouth.

“Now you get me?” I nodded toward the door. “So how about we walk in there, give the mayor this cup of coffee, and then we'll be on our way, alright?”

The sectary slowly nodded her head. She looked down at a stack of papers, not reading a line on the pages, but making herself appear busy. I appreciated her dedication and felt only a tad guilty about my lies. Which was better than usual.

Pinkie and I walked together toward the door. Pushing and holding it open, I let her walk past me, smiling as I did so. Here I thought I was being smooth, but she only frowned as she came next to me.

“Those cups of coffee weren't really from Twilight,” Pinkie whispered, tilting her head. “She wasn't even there when we bought them?” She gazed up at me. “Did you just lie to that mare? That wasn't nice if you did.”

“So what? No harm means no foul.” I looked down the small hall, seeing it lead into the mayor's office. She was sitting in the distance, head down and a quill in her hooves. “White lies are okay from time to time.”

“You shouldn't lie, Spike.”

“And why shouldn't I?” Pinkie was frowning at me, her eyes becoming a tad watery. “We tried telling that mare the truth and where did it get us? Not allowed inside. All we wanted to do was give the mayor some coffee—what's wrong with that?”

“But we should have respected her wishes and found someone else to give that coffee too.” Pinkie raised an eyebrow slightly. “Do you... do you lie often, Spike?”

“Only when I have to,” I replied. “And only when it doesn't really matter. Besides, this wasn't the mayor's wish: it was some mare's.” I gave her my best fake smile. “Now get rid of the final coffee and get on with our date.”

Pinkie nodded her head. But she wouldn't look at me. She kept walking forward, looking forward, almost listening forward the whole time. She could sense it. I know she could. I was taking control of the situation, letting my twisted sense of logic rule over the subsequent course of action.

I was always great for figuring a situation out. My issue was getting into one to begin with.

I could be decent at life—if I ever got into one.

“How humiliating!” I looked up as we entered the office. Mayor Mare was hunched over, using a stamp to stamp papers. “Why must I endure such menial work? Sensitive material, they say. Only for my eyes, they say.” She blew air out her lips. “Could just give my stamp away... nopony would know...”

“We would.” Mayor's muzzle rose to me as I came to her desk. I offered her a smile and a coffee. “Luckily we don't care.” I held my claw to her muzzle. “Want a coffee?”

“You are... too kind.” Mayor took the cup with both hooves. “It's Spike, correct? The charge of Twilight Sparkle?”

“I'm still known at all?” I untied the pouch from around my waist, dumping its contents on the table. “Help yourself to the rest. It looks like you need a little pick me up.”

“Little is not a sufficient word at all.” Mayor Mare tilted her head. “I must offer my apologies, but I do not recall having an appointment booked with the either of you two.” Her eyes settled next to me. “And it is good to see you again, Pinkie.”

“You as well, Mayor!” Pinkie came along to the mare's side, throwing a hoof around her neck and pulling her in for a hug. The mayor didn't struggle, consenting to the hug, nuzzling Pinkie's neck. “I'm sorry you're having to work super hard though.”

“Part of the title.” Mayor Mare pulled out from the hug. She pushed her glasses up. “Meaningful work will always be hard, but it will forever be worth the trouble.”

“Unless you're having to sign a release about a sprinkler system.”

The mayor looked over to me, where I'd come to the side of the office. “Not all parts of the work are meaningful, but I'm afraid it all tends to be a combined package.” She smiled in a bittersweet way. “No picking and choosing.”

“Sounds like a bummer.” I then pointed down to the cabinet before me. “Mind if I help myself to a glass of scotch.”

“Isn't it a bit early for drinks?”

“I'm nocturnal, so this is my form of midnight.”

“Then... be my guest, dear.”

I obliged myself to a glass. I lifted the bottle, it was wide on the bottom and slim at the top, turning its cap off. Liquid poured into the glass below—it was strong enough to relax a guest, but weak that I wouldn't get a buzz.

Bummer.

“That does look like to be a lot of paperwork.” Pinkie pulled away from the table, gazing across its surface. “We only came to give you coffee, but is there anything we can give you a hoof with?”

“I appreciate the offer, Pinkie.” Mayor Mare sat back in her seat. “But there's not a whole lot that can be done right now. If there was, I wouldn't be so stressed right now.”

“Something big go down?” Both mares looked at me from across the table, watching me as I took a seat in the chair in front of the desk. “Twilight gave me a rant about the underappreciated of government work. Trivial stuff and all that.”

“I assure you that these matters are anything but trivial.”

I arched an eyebrow.

“Most of them, anyway.” Mayor sighed. “It's not even the paperwork that bothers me. It's the Apple family that worries me.”

“The Apple family!” Pinkie came around the table and stood next to me. “Are they okay? Did their barn get torn down again? Don't tell me the bats are back at it again!”

“It's nothin' like that, Pinks.” Pinkie gazed at me for a second. Her eyes were wide and slightly watery—she was legitimately concerned about her friends. Even when she had no idea what was happening, her natural response was concern as opposed to my skepticism. “Big Mac would've told me if something important was going down.”

I glanced over at Mayor Mare. “They're wanting more land and complaining about it, aren't they?”

“I'm afraid... not.”

Even my eyes went wide at that.

“What's the deal then?”

“That's information that cannot be discussed.”

“Would it be in the interest for Twilight to know?”

“And if it did?”

“Because it would be in my interest.”

Mayor Mare stared at her stacks of paper, staring and staring, thinking and thinking, something heavy resting on her shoulders. My entrance hadn't been kind and my words strayed away from the concept, but I could see a fellow burdened soul when I met one, and with Pinkie next to me, I wanted to do something to help... for whatever strange reason.

“I have something to say,” Mayor Mare started, “though it may prove sensitive to you.”

“I'm sure my scales can handle it.”

Mayor Mare lowered her muzzle and closed her eyes. “I'm afraid that the Apples have been having issues with dragons on their farm.” She raised her muzzle. “They want official support from the Royal Guard to clear the issue.”

I blinked before looking over at Pinkie. “You don't think she means me, do you?”

Pinkie only rolled her eyes.

X - A Meeting at Midnight

~ X ~

A Meeting at Night

“What I've said must never leave this office.”

“Don't worry about it. We've got it under wraps.” I shook my head. “Just not really sure I heard you right. Dragons? Here?”

“Could it be anyone you know?” Pinkie said from my side, to which, I shook my head again.

“Other dragons and I never got an along well because of the whole 'pony born' thing.” I shrugged. “Ember and I got along back in the day, but there are not many dragons thrilled to see me.” I sighed. “Or me them, I guess.”

“That's quite the shame, Spike.” The mayor sat up in her chair, adjusting her glasses with a hoof. “Because I was hoping you could talk to me a favor that goes underneath the table. I am to understand you are just as adept at handling difficult and dangerous situations.”

“I actually cause them more than I fix them.” I squinted my right eyes. “Forgive me for the asking, but why haven't you gotten Twilight involved? She seems like she'd be able to handle this real quick.”

“I'm afraid that's the problem of this matter.” Mayor Mare crossed her hooves and placed them on the table. “The Apple family doesn't want the matter brought into the spotlight, and I, for the sake and reputation of this town, tend to agree. They want the dragons gone without much fuss in the papers.”

“Bringing the Royal Guard away from Canterlot is bound to raise a few eyes.”

“Hence our problem,” Mayor Mare said. “We require the assistance of the Royal Guard without the matter reaching the ears of nobility. This office is not on a level to require assistance on the grounds of classified information.”

“And that all goes out the window if Twilight opens her big mouth.”

Pinkie stuck her elbow into my side; I did my best not to wince.

“It is not much for me to offer you in return to this favor,” Mayor Mare went on, blind to the elbow twisting into my scales, “but you will be doing I, and the Apples, a great service.”

“I... I'm not sure there's much I can do.” I looked down into my lap. “As I said, I'm not the type to demand much respect from dragons... or anyone for the matter.” I looked back up with a hopeful expression. “But if it's for the Apples? I'll try a word or two with the dragons—that's the kind of stuff I'm good with.”

And at the same time, I'd clenched my fists.

There wasn't much more to be said after that. We were thanked for the coffee and had our mouths shut about any more affairs. Pinkie and the Mayor talked from more—Pinkie being the pink ball of stress relief that she was. I just looked miserable and thought a lot.

Could I beat up a dragon?

I beat myself up plenty, so there was a chance.

Still... it bugged me that Big Mac held something like this from me. Maybe he knew I'd get sensitive about the matter? Why would I care if dragons were giving him trouble? I mean, sure, they were taking my job. Only I was supposed to annoy the crap outta him, but still, knowing he was in trouble bugged me.

Was it because he didn't think I could help? Geeze. There I went again. Thinking about myself again. How could I be so full of myself and hate myself all in the span of a second? Crap. Those two were looking at me now. Gotta stop thinking.

“Well Mayor, it's been a pleasure.” I stood up from my seat and gave a bow—why the heck did I do that? “We'll take out leave. See to us about some dragons.”

There's no point in saying what happened after that. It's all boring stuff anyway. Pinkie and I talked for a bit and didn't talk about the thing that was bothering us both. Was it the drinking? That wasn't an issue. Dragons have livers have steel, unlike ponies. Was it because I was a prick? Everyone knew that.

Besides Pinkie. Was she upset that she was finding this out? Did it conflict with what she thought of me before I hid away from the world? Was she regretting dating me? Did she hate me? Was she was she was she...

Stop. Stop thinking. I needed to stop thinking. It doesn't do me any good—only actions.

But good actions tend to come from good thinking, so maybe, I need to think better and about good things. Could I think about all the reasons that I was a prick? No no, most of those issues were small and didn't matter. I do what I do simply because I do them. I could be good. I could be nice, I could be a lot of things—was it simply a matter of choice or just who I am?

Stop stop stop. Thinking does nothing. I gotta do something. Pinkie was leaving. She was saying something, and I wasn't paying attention. She smiled a sad smile and nodded at me, agreeing to meet later and then walking away from me.

Once again, I was alone, and this time, I wasn't sure why. My mind was in hyper-mode, triggered by the previous revelation about the secret of my friend. I was going to help him. Pinkie was going to help me help him.

Was I going to face a dragon? I was going to face dragons.

When I stepped into the town, night had taken over a day, and the streets were dim, the parts without the bright lights of street lamps. Ponies were barren, and the streets were filled with nothing but me. I should wander and think because I had nothing to do.

And then I realized I had something to do.

I came from the building to the small stand next to the office. The coffee shop which had triggered this whole mess. It was strange how sudden everything was. This day was without purpose, and because I wanted to explore, I now had a temporary purpose—something to do.

And that something to do involved helping a friend.

I came to the side of the stand. It was a booth really. Big enough for the coffee machines and maybe a stallion. It was small but neat. Pretty cool I guess. I just wanted to get out from being outside alone.

I knocked on the door of the self-contained booth. “Uh, Steadfast? It's Spike. Dragon from earlier today?”

“Hnnngh.... oh, hmm, yes!” Hooves clopped against woods, growing louder and coming closer to the door. “Coming... coming!”

I shook my head. “Ho boy.”

XI - Letter to the Lost

~ XI ~

A Letter to the Lost

I wasn't left to stand outside for all that long.

Not that I minded, anyway. My mind was still pretty jacked up on itself. It could get like this at times when too many things were happening at once. I tried talking to Twilight whenever I get like this, but she just welcomes me the adult life and demands that I suck it up.

For somepony who requires lots of empathy during her anxiety and paranoia, she sure lacks a lot of the stuff.

A glance at the sky told me it was nearing close to midnight. Pinkie and I had spent a long time talking about something. I don't know what. I wasn't paying much attention. I felt bad about that, but I shouldn't, because I should only feel bad about things I'm willing to change—feeling bad can be the best motivation or the worse, endless pain.

What the heck was happening to me?

“You gonna come inside?”

I shook my head. There was a pony at the door. No, a stallion at the door. He was big for being, well, a stallion. Big frame and huge muscles, nothing Big Mac would scoff at, but at the same time, nothing he would be envious of either.

“Yeah.” I shook my head as he stepped aside. I entered. “Just got caught in my head. Hey, you're not going to offer me candy now, are you?”

“Sweets have never been sweet on me.”

“Damn. I actually wanted candy.”

“I can ruffee your coffee if makes you feel better?”

The booth was a lot bigger on the inside. Two stools stood in a make-shift kitchen: really, just counter-top with two silver looking, complex machine atop it. On the opposites side of that was a wall of slim but long shelves, each one stacked with blends of coffee, sugars, and other delights.

“Twilight said never to accept candy from strangers.” I took a seat on the steel, cracking my neck and back. “But she never said anything about date drugs. Whip me up a cup if you will.”

The door squeaked closed behind me. Hoofsteps against the wood again. I heard him groan as he rose, forehooves clattering against tins as he searched. “Hmm. Afraid we're fresh out of drugs. Perhaps rum will cleanse your soul?”

“If we're trying to do that, then pour half the bottle.”

“I reckon you drink a lot?”

“Only to excess.”

He chuckled. Humour and wit could always save me from answering hard questions.

It wasn't before long that we had our drinks. He gave me coffee that was black and then darkened by the rum. He'd asked me how I liked the coffee. I said black like that one stallion from earlier. Steadfast gave me a strange look.

“So.” We'd been sitting a while, drinking a while, being silent a while before he began to speak. “How'd your first date go with that mare of yours? Ya enjoy yourself?”

“Gave coffee to strangers and talked a lot.” I blinked, withholding details from the tale. “Not much to it than that. Guess I was expecting something a bit more different from a first date.”

“First dates are always a letdown, kid.” Steadfast lifted his white mug, sipping on the steaming liquid. He didn't even wince. “Ya can't be expectin' too much from them anyway. Only the books make 'em out to be perfect.”

“I get that.” I still made a face and shook my head. “Was just expecting to do a little more than talk. I can talk with anypony whenever I want. You get a marefriend to do something other than... you know, talking.”

“Like touching.”

“Like touching all over!” I couldn't wait any longer to get that rum inside of me, throwing back half the mug inside my maw, enduring the heat as the liquid poured in my gullet. When I finished, I exhaled heavily, smiling as a buzz overtook my senses. “We look at mares because they're, well, mares! They've got cute faces and nice flanks. Soft bodies and even softer fur.”

I leaned back and nearly fell. I played it off like I remembered I was sitting on a stool. “I mean, it's well enough keeping to the magazines stashed underneath my bed, y'know? But I thought the whole point to getting a marefriend was that I wouldn't need those magazines anymore.”

The stallion pulled his mug away from his lips, letting the drink cool and taking only that which had needed at the time. Something about his stillness and slowness both irked and intrigued me. “You thought getting a marefriend would net ya a front row seat to the show? Get to see the underside of a mare without many fees?”

“And don't forget to feel.”

“You like that mare you're with now?”

“I... don't know.” I took another swig of my coffee and rum—drinking made me think better. “She's nice. She's pretty. She's got the rump of a goddess. I enjoy her, I really do... she asks questions that make me feel smart.”

“Hard to find a mare like that.” Steadfast put his mug between his legs. “Gotta be a smart mare to ask the right questions. Seems a bit silly on the outside, but I reckon that's mostly a ploy... or somethin' like that.”

I found myself nodding along. “Pinkie's smarter than she lets on. Not many ponies see that, I think.”

“But you're seeing that now, aren't ya?”

I looked into my cup. “Guess I am.”

“Do ya think you would have cared to see that before the fake datin' thing?”

I looked at him. “How do you figure?”

Steadfast looked back at me for quite some time, keeping me both silent and in suspense, like he was thinking of words, being careful with them, all for the sake of a stranger who could take anything he threw. Why did ponies have to be so considerate when all it did was waste time?

Why didn't ponies just get to the point... even if the phrasing could string?

Ponies weren't as strong as dragons, I suppose.

“I'm not gonna deny to you now that dating is a game of self-interest.” Steadfast looked aside to a shelf. “There's only so much a friend is willing to learn about us before they lose interest. It ain't their fault, and it also doesn't mean something's wrong with us.”

“Aren't you ponies wonderful creatures.”

“Shut up and let me finish.” Steadfast was looking at some paper on the shelf, though I didn't care enough to squint my eyes at it. “It's only because of dating we invest ourselves in someone else. Wanting to touch 'em, kiss 'em, and do all whole more to 'em keep us interested.”

I went to throw a wisecrack but decided against it. Steadfast looked pretty serious.

“Because we're so invested in that other pony, they feel cared for and loved for, and that a feeling that can never be replicated.” Steadfast sighed. “It's selfish to expect other ponies to care so much for us. But we need to be cared for because of some strange reasons. And dating... dating is what makes ponies spend all that time with us, listening to us, and making 'em want to... loves us.”

I took another sip of my coffee only to realize there was nothing left of it. “So basically, we all want to be loved, but that's hard to get, and friends will never be willing to go that far. We need ponies to date us, to want to do naughty things to us, and that motivates them to love us in the long run.”

“Something like that.” Steadfast shook his head. “Love takes a long time and tons of effort. Only self-interest would keep a pony through all that. Afraid I've never had a way to explain' my thoughts all too well.”

I wasn't too sure to make of it myself. It made sense in a way. Big Mac was my best friend, and I'd help him through almost anything, but Celestia knows I wouldn't cuddle him in the middle of the night because of a bad nightmare he had—I'd smashed him over the head if ever confessed something like a night terror.

But those words... they hit close to home. Nopony really knew about the life I had inside my head, and even my friends, my best friend, didn't care all that much to find out. Only Pinkie asked me questions and listened intensely to my answers. Was it because she wanted to go further with me... to touch whatever muscles I'd been gifted not through effort but birth?

If that was the case, then why this silly trial? If relationships built on selfish desires that led to noble results, then why get rid of the first act? Pinkie never had a guy that stayed long enough, so much I never knew about this challenge, yet she kept trying this game of hers anyway.

Needles pricked my brain; I'd drunk too much to think this hard.

“Now that I've told you something.” My eyes blinked back into reality to see Steadfast standing over me. He smiled, a bottle in his wing, pouring rum into my cup. “It's time for you to tell me something. That fire you can breathe. It's not normal dragon fire, right?”

“It burns away like normal fire,” I replied, toasting. “Just doesn't destroy anything. Sends everything off to somewhere else.”

“Can you choose where it goes?”

“If I have a good magical hold, yeah?” I drank from my cup as the room started to wobble. “Give me a trace of a unicorn's magic and I should be able to transport anything light-weight through it. Mostly nothing more than a letter.” I shrugged and almost felt backward because of it. Strong rum. “My magic game really ain't all that strong.”

Steadfast looked at me for a moment. He then came to where the paper was, picking it up though it weighed a thousand pounds. He walked over to me, each step heavy, his expression stern, like I was about to be robbed or killed—maybe both.

“I need you to do me a favor, Spike,” Steadfast said to me. “I need you to mail this letter to my sister.”

XII - Letters to Sisters

~ XI ~

Letter's to Sisters

'You want me to do what now?”

Steadfast handed me the paper. “This letter. Can you mail it?”

“I can try.” I took it into my claw. “The heck is the deal with it anyway? Regular postage just not your fetish?”

“Try not having seen her in over a year.”

I looked at him for a long while. His body looked tense while his expression bordered on anger. Probably not a good idea to wind him up too much. “And you've already tried looking around?”

“For the whole year.” Steadfast turned around and returned to his stool, collapsing onto it. “I went looking and she went hiding. No sense in chasing someone who doesn't want to be found.”

“Sounds like you messed up pretty bad.” I weight the letter in my palm, light for paper, but the envelope itself was filled out. “I take it your sister's a unicorn?”

“Aye.” Steadfast nodded. “Wouldn't have asked for this otherwise.”

I was tempted to throw a wisecrack or something at the guy, but something at me repelled at the idea—hard to insult someone who'd given you coffee with booze without arching an eyebrow. And just like me, the guy seemed kinda sad, broken even, somehow keeping himself together.

There was something about that I admired.

“Alright, I'll try.” I stared into his eyes. “But there's a chance this may not work. For all we know, this letter will end up at the bottom of the sea.” I looked down into the envelope. “It would help if you had something of her's about. Something she used her magic on.”

“That paper and envelop will work.”

“Why's that?”

“It's the letter my sister left.” Steadfast stood up from his stool, approaching the shelves once more. “It's the one she wrote before hightailing it out of Ponyville. If there's any trace left of her and her magic, it's already in that claw of yours.”

I looked back at the envelope, and charging a small flame in my chest, felt my eyes come alive. Heat seeped inside my retinas as my iris glowed a bright green. Looking at the envelope resting on my palm, a pink, faint mist wafted upward. “Seems like you're right.”

I heard liquid pouring in the distance. Hoofsteps clopped behind me. Something hard and round nudged against my back. “No thanks. Need to actually focus on this one.”

“Declining a drink?” Steadfast said. “That a first for you?”

“This will be a first.” It'd been a while since I'd established a magical connection with another unicorn. Celestia had always walked me through the steps, and with her, I had unlimited traces of magic to follow back. “Keep quiet for a sec, will ya?”

There was only one shot at this. Bringing my free claw to my mouth, I blew the flame that had welled in my chest, feeling my scales catch aflame. A green fire burned around my claw, stretching only to the start of my wrist.

Then turning my claw around, so that my palm faced down, I lowered it toward the enveloped. The pink mist wafted into my flame, losing much of its presence, though my fire soon tainted with pink. Her essence was inside my magic.

“Cold.”

Steadfast shuffled behind me. “What did you say?”

“Everything about this unicorn is cold.” I shook my head as I curled the digits of my burning claw, a wind summoned from my magic. It lifted the enveloped into the air. “Her magic, her letter, her essence, her current location—everything about her is just so cold.”

I made sure to start another flame in my chest, if even just to warm myself.

Soon enough, though, the letter lifted into the center of my burning palm, the parchment catching alight with my green flame. It slowly burned away, turning into green mist and embers, some of which shot forth from my magic and out an open door.

I sat still for a second. Drained. I felt beyond drained by the sudden exertion. It'd been a while since I'd done with anything with magic—compared to the prowess of Twilight, it didn't seem like there was much point in trying.

But this, this was something I could do, all by myself, out of practice. I watched how my claw burned green, how the flames billowed but were contained. With a clench of my digits, the flame went away when I made a fist.

“So it's done then?”

“Yeah.” I looked over my shoulder and at Steadfast. “Pretty sure I got her. But... you're not hoping for a response, are you?”

“No.”

“Good. Because while I was able to get that spell to her, there's no way she's gonna be able to reverse send that spell back.” I got up from my stool, heading toward the door. “But if she somehow does, I'll keep you in the loop.” I went placed my claw on the door. “Before I go, though, you have a spare paper and quill I can have.”

“You don't want anything else?”

“I don't deserve anything else.”

Steadfast gave me a nod, and for the rest of the night, he was occupied within himself. He seemed thankful for my act, like it was heavier than it looked, but he also caught thought of something else, something that bugged or relived him endlessly.

When he gave me the quill and the paper, he held my claw longer than was normal, like he was entrusted to me something great. I was too tired and drained to care—I just wanted to get out and walk for a little while.

After today, there was quite a bit to reflect on. Too much happened in so little. So I said my goodbyes and found myself outside. It was far later into the night, so much so, that darkness obscured patches of the street.

My best bet was to go home. Instead, I found a bench, one before the still running water-fountain, and began to write, using my thigh as a desk.

Dear Twilight

Not sure if you'll be awake by the time you get this letter. Just letting you know I was out late and, by the way how things are going, I may not be at home for a night or two. Nothing to sweat about—just met some friends of my own that are pretty cool.

I also performed a spell today! Nothing special. Just connected to a unicorn through a letter she left a year ago. It was actually pretty interesting. Nothing compared to you, of course, but something neat I was able to do.

I might try a few more spells, you know? Just to see what else I can do with my magic. Or if I even have magic. Never really gave it much thought, you know?

Anyway. Reaching the end of the page now. Gotta go. Love you and all that. Please take care of yourself. Don't cook; order out.

Always your assistant, Spike.

XIII - The Promise

~ XIII ~

The Promise

“You're really gotta to stop doing this.”

I blinked until I was awake. “Pinkie? That you?”

“Of course I'm me!” My vision cleared away to her pink muzzle hovering me. “Why wouldn't I be me?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I live here. What are you doing here?”

I blinked a few more times until the rest of the world was clear. Around me were the streets of Ponyville, lit by sunlight instead of moonlight, and behind me, just past the pink pony was Sugar Cube Corner. The kinks in my back reminded me of how comfortable it was to sleep on steps.

“Were you hoping to get an early start on helping the Apples?”

I groaned as I sat up, draping a claw over my face. “Let's go with that excuse. You ready to go then?”

“Should I be asking you that question?”

“I'll be alright once I get back on my feet.” I chuckled as I rubbed my eyes. “Guess I can't ask you to give me a hoof?”

“Of course you can't.” Finishing with my eyes, a pink hoof hovered before me. “But I can offer you one if I want to. Here ya go!”

I was feeling too drained to give any fight to her logic. My talons came down along the roundness of her hoof, pulling on it as I rose to my feet. There was a few stumbles and wobbles, but I could stand pretty alright.

There wasn't much to say after that. We were on our way for the streets of Ponyville, which were barren because of how early it was, though I wasn't complaining. We didn't talk much during our trip. It was weird. We liked to talk a lot, and yet, when we were together, we were mostly silent.

The silence was enjoyable at least.

It wasn't until we left town and entered the acres that I began to speak. Something pricked at my head.

“Hey Pinkie?”

She was trotting next to me, her hips swaying and her mane flopping, as she then smiled up at me.

“You alright if we talk about yesterday?” I sighed and averted my gaze. “I kinda wanna apologize for acting up yesterday. At least, in terms of you and me.”

“What's making you say this?”

“Let's say I had some time to think about it.” I looked back down at her, slowing the speed of my walking. “And you're right. Ponies get together to feel each other up, and while that's great and all, that's not the only reason why ponies should be dating.”

Pinkie only giggled. “You dolt. You didn't know that already?”

“I knew that a relationship based on touching would never last.” I shook my head. “Just didn't know how important touching was. It's the biggest reason for someone to get a marefriend, and well, if that mare can't be a friend without the touching, then it's all bound to go south, right?”

Pinkie smiled. “That's a very good answer to give. I'm proud you see things that way.”

“Does mean I can touch you now?”

Pinkie rolled her eyes. “You silly boys.”

“We're only silly because you girls are so pretty.”

She blushed at that, and for once, I felt proud. Never in a million years would a causal flirt just slip past my lips, and yet, I was growing more and more comfortable with a mare that saw something in me romantically. Where I wasn't some drunk or ugly dragon, but a suitable partner that the romantic exchange was mutually enjoyable.

At least, I hoped it was that way.

“Get over here now, Applebloom!”

Pinkie and I looked forward from each other. We were on a dirt trail that was fenced at its sides, a vast land of towering trees beyond it. In the distance ahead, the farm loomed, no activity except for the two mares rushing towards us.

“Isn't that Applejack?”

“I think it is,” I whispered down to Pinkie, before waving my claw at the two nearing figures. “Yo! Aj! That you?!”

“You vermin!” The orange blur came charging. My heart beat against my chest in an attempt to escape. I was tempted to use Pinkie Pie as a shield. “Thought you could sneak away from Big Mac, did ya? Your scales better be harder than they look!”

“Give it a break!” I stepped forward as I pounded my claws against my chest. “It's me, Spike! Will you quit charging at me!?”

Applejack kept charging at me. Though, when she drew near, I saw her eyes blink and her rump fall to the dirt, pushing her hind legs into the dirt to slow her speed. She slid a few feet, coming to a stop just before my feet.

“Spike? Is that you?” Applejack looked up at me sitting down. She tilted her head. “Weren't ya a lot smaller before.”

“Puberty took me while I was sleeping.” My claws dropped to the side. “I've never been the same afterward. Forget that. Why were you running at me?”

“Sugarcube, I thought you were someone else, I really did.” Applejack rose to her hooves, turning around and spotting Applebloom coming up to us. “Now ya hurry along now. Big Mac's gonna need support faster than we can get it.”

“You referring to that someone else?”

“You two better leave,” Applejack said, not expecting for Pinkie to come next to her and start patting the dirt off her fur. “We have real trouble back in the farm y'all don't want to get yourself involved in.”

“You mean the dragons you've been keeping on the down low?”

Applejack threw a foreleg over Applebloom once she caught up. The two stared at me. “How'd you figure out a thing like that?”

“Meeting with the mayor.” I cracked my neck, and then once I was done, my fists afterward. “She wanted me to try speaking some sense into them. Not actually sure how she expected me to do that.”

“These dragons ain't the talkin' type, Spike.” Applejack brought Applebloom to her chest. “They're the real deal. Ya should get outta here.”

“You implying I ain't-a real dragon.”

“Now ain't the time for jokes.”

“I agree.” I crouched so we could be eye-level. “Look, I'm not going to pretend to know what the full story is, only that Mac could probably use a helping claw right now, right? I don't care what happens to me.” I smiled as wide as I could. “Your brother owes me far too many drinks to be put out of work.”

Applejack stared at me for a long while. Her chest was still heaving from all her running, and at this moment, this cruel and honest moment, she analyzed me, deciding if I was worth taking a chance on.

If I could actually be of some help for once in my life.

“Alright then.” Applejack nodded. “You get back to that farm and you help my dumb brother out. We weren't expectin' things to be taken this far. Those dragons crossed a line.”

“We'll be sure to shove 'em back over it.” I returned to standing, stepped past the two. “You two should probably get Twilight. Better than any stallion around here.”

“My thinkin' exactly.”

“Get to it then!”

Applejack nodded. She slid her neck underneath Applebloom barrel, lifting her into the air and letting her slide down her neck. Once she was on her back, hugging her body, Applejack galloped off back into town.

“Dang.” I sighed and shook my head. “Now I'm wishing I'd brought Twilight with me.”

“Now's not a good time to be thinking, Spikey.”

Pinkie was standing before and below me, smiling hopefully up at me. I smiled back. “You're right, Pinkie. Let's get a move on.”

Together, we rushed toward the barn.

XIV - Don't Be Afraid

~ XIV ~

Don't Be Afraid

“Aw crap, they're big.”

I pulled myself behind the shed. Pinkie was next to me. She was talking, “They're great big meanies is what they are!”

“And here I thought I was the biggest meanie around.” I pressed a claw against my chest to repress the beatings of my heart. “Three of them and one of him.” I glanced down at Pinkie, who was crossing her hooves. “Think he'll be able to take 'em alone?”

“No!”

“Thought you were going to say that.” I shook my head. “Boy oh boy. What the heck did I get myself into?”

“Now is not the time to freak out! No freakouts allowed! Nadda-dadda.”

“It's amazing how your heart's not blowing up right now.” I let myself slide down the shed, feeling nothing but dread and the world closing in. “Then again, you don't have to fight dragons. You know, real ones, like Applejack was saying.”

“Applejack had no clue what she was saying!” Pinkie stomped her hoof into the dirt, doing so again and again until she stood before me, towering over me. “You are a dragon! You have scales and fangs. But unlike them, you're not as much as a meanie.”

“And why's that?”

“Because you haven't run away yet.” Pinkie stared deeply into my eyes, and for the first time in a while, she stopped smiling. “You may be mean, Spike, and you may say a lot of mean things, but you're still here. You're still doing the right thing even though you're scared.”

“That's... now how that works, Pinkie.” I shook my head, fighting the urge to bash the back of it into the wood behind me. “Doing good things doesn't make me good.”

“No,” Pinkie said. “But it's a start.”

I fought against myself to take another peek past the shed. Mac was still yelling at the three dragons, each one taller than him, all much stronger. Something caught my eye during the exchange: Big Mac was yelling back, though his hooves... there was a tremble, one that you could miss if you blinked.

Mac was scared. Big Mac, the biggest and strongest stallion to ever live, was scared. But he didn't let on that he was scared. He stood his ground, appeared tall, and did what he had to do, no matter what his body told him otherwise.

And then it all clicked: it really did.

Ponies liked to believe there's a choice between courage and cowardice, but really, there isn't. We choose courage over our fear, or we allow fear to make our bodies run away from the fight. Courage was a choice; cowardice was not.

“I don't suppose you have any rum in your mane?”

“One sec.” Pinkie delved a hoof into her mane, sticking her tongue out. “Nope. Just hair. Did you want some?”

“No.” I sighed. “Just... I have a tendency to be drunk when I fight. In fact, those fights probably happened because I was drunk.” I let my head fall forward. “Now I'm not drunk. Now I'm just scared... terrified.”

“Don't be, silly-bee.” I looked up to see Pinkie standing over me, though she no longer towered above. She bent her hooves, placing her muzzle on the same level as my own. “Being scared is okay! It's a feeling like any other. But to be afraid? Being afraid only holds you back.”

“Pinkie?”

“Yes?”

“Can I hold your hoof?” I asked. “Can I touch you, please, this once? I need something soft to keep my calm. Something to keep me from going—“

I was stopped when Pinkie held out her hoof. Long and pink, it trembled ever so slightly, unable to keep still. Scared. She was scared. We were both scared. We were all scared of what was to happen next.

But when I grabbed her hoof, when I held it tightly, squeezing my trembles out from my body, something happened that hadn't happened in such a long time. My body became still. My arm and claw did not move. Pinkie was able to keep her hoof still as well, comforted by being touched by someone else during a stressful time.

And then the world made sense again. My body was weightless and my mind became clear, my only sensation being the beating of my heart. It reminded me that I was alive. That I was here, with someone else, about to do something finally important—even if only to myself.

At last, in our intimate hold, I found my confidence.

“Thank you, Pinkie.” Her pink muzzle hovered an inch away from my own, and taking my other claw, I cupped it along her cheek, feeling the weight of her head fall against it. “Everything's going to be okay now, alright? No reason to be afraid.”

Pinkie Pie remained silent. She only smiled, gazing deep into my eyes, those orbs of blue brighter than the sky—the only things that made my heart race more than those dragons. She was perfection contained in so little, a bundle of enticement that withheld its wisdom, sharing it with only those clever enough to go looking.

“Think we've killed enough time here.” I missed her as soon as I let go of her. “Big Mac's going to be pissed we took this long.” I stood as tall and as straight as I could, coming around from the shed. “Let's get this over with.”

I saw the conflict in the distance, the stallion vs the dragons, none aware of the mare and kid on their way to the fight. My heart still beat against my chest, but it hurt slightly less than it did before. Closing my eyes and curling my fists, I broke into a sprint toward my best friend.

XV - The Three Dragons

~ XV ~

The Three Dragons

“Where's our cart?” the dragon in the middle spoke up. “Last time we're going to ask. You won't like what comes next.”

“Don't reckon there's anything worse than a dragon askin' fer what doesn't belong to him,” Big Mac said, not having moved an inch, even though the dragons were only a foot away from him. Pinkie and I continued walking toward them, keeping silent and slowing down to overhear whatever was happening.

“Hey, Crimson,” the dragon to left, the one in blue, turned his head to the one in the middle, the one in red. “Aren't pones supposed to be high talking and all that? If dragons can speak leagues better than this guy, what does that make him?”

“Dumber than a dragon,” the dragon right of the two said, his scales all black—boy, I really sucked at describing them. Basically, they're three tall, simple, and stupid looking dragons. “That's your answer, Craze.”

“Thanks, Hungry.”

All three of the dragons then looked down at Big Mac. Crimson lifted a fist, cracking his buckle against his palm. “We gave you a week. You didn't show. So we decided to show up for you.” He crouched, putting himself at Mac's eye level. “How are you gonna be so rude to dragons so polite? We're not like the rest of our kind, you know.”

“Only cuz yer kind sent ya on yer merry way!” Mac exclaimed, pushing his muzzle forward. “And you boys can hunt for nothin'! Preyin' on ponies cuz you ain't strong enough to prey on anything else!”

“We're about to prey on you, red bull.” Crazy's claw curled into a fist. “Better keep your mouth shut. Don't anger what you can't take on.”

I couldn't take any more of it. When I first saw the dragons from far away, I couldn't get my heart to stop racing, or my claw to stop shaking, as I thought I was dealing with real dragons. You know the kind. Strong and silent. A roar that can rock a house. Real dragon stuff.

But listening to these idiots? They weren't better than me, and even if they were, it wasn't by much. They looked strong. There was still three of them. But... I felt something that I hadn't felt in a really long time. I felt the anger of seeing a friend face up danger alone—with me being useless and just watching.

I shook my head: I was useless to the girls back then, but now, I would be useful to Big Mac—even if it killed me. Which it probably would. Three dragons and all that.

“They're right, Big Mac.” My final step came next to the stallion, who turned his head and looked up at me, eyes full of surprise. Though his expression remained stoic. “Trash talking has always been my thing. You keep to the strong and silent type.”

“Spike?” Big Mac quickly shook his head. “The heck are you doin' here? Get! These dragons will tear you alive.”

“Oh, I'm sure they could.” I turned to face the dragons, each one stunned to see a member of their own kind, much less one standing tall next to a pony. “But I doubt they'd doing anything worse than one of our bar brawls.” I cracked my neck, trying to ignore the thumping of my heart. “At least we'll be fighting together for once.”

“Dragon!” Crimson drew my gaze to him. “Who are you? The heck are you doing here?”

“Name's Spike.” I offered him my claw. “And I'm a pony hatched dragon.” I nodded my head at Mac. “This guy here? He's my best friend.” I pulled my claw back after a second. “He's also kicked my ass more times than I can count, so I owe him one for that.”

Crimson looked at the other two dragons, who then looked at each other, and with a blink, they all exploded into laughter. Any hype or tension drained from my body as the dragons lost their cool, laughing hysterically.

“Y-You!” Crazy squeezed out through his wheezing. “You're the pony hatched dragon we hear so much about? You're a letdown! A beast tamed by a pony, oh, get real dude!” He lifted his head, catching his breath. “We should let you off the hook on the ground of how pathetic you are.”

I shrugged. “I mean, I would appreciate it.”

“We're not.” Hungry stepped in front of me. “We're getting our cart of apples, and we're getting it now. Get those claws of your clean, boy. You're picking apples with you best friend, and we're watching you work.”

“And I'll have you know—“ I stepped forward as well, pushing my snout against his “—that I haven't done hard work in over a year. I refuse it on the grounds of I don't want to.” I was starting to hate this guy the most. He stood slightly taller than me, all with a stupid, sly smirk.

“Oh?” Hungry tilted his head. “What are you going to do about it, ugly pony?”

So I did the thing I do best.

I threw the first punch.