Super Best Friends, Forever
A flying violet vehicle navigated Twilight Sparkle and Sunset Shimmer through Canterlot City's busy aerial traffic. It was late afternoon, which meant that the sun was still up.
However, for Twilight, the world was pitch darkness.
Honestly. She had absolutely no idea why she'd agreed to being 'surprised' in the first place. If there was one thing in the world that Twilight hated, it was the very concept of surprises. Unplanned, unwanted, usually unsolvable, surprises.
And it certainly wasn't as if Sunset didn't know this. It was, in fact, one of the first things Twilight had ever told her. Like, "one week after the day they'd met" one of the first things Twilight had ever told her. Because "surprises" weren't the same as the joy of discovery. They weren't the same as the enlightenment of findings which came from scientific experiments. In such endeavors, you were often disappointed if you didn't find out something new. You set out from the beginning to be "surprised." Possibly making it not a surprise anymore, but welcome just the same.
But "surprise" for the very sake of surprise? Twilight had never taken to that.
And yet, today, Sunset had insisted on it anyway. And Twilight had put up with it anyway. Because Twilight loved her wife. More than enough to allow Sunset to do the "surprise" thing, no matter how silly it was.
To say nothing of how archaic Sunset's current method of "surprising" her was. Both knew that Twilight's usual headwear could easily be instructed to block all incoming light to her retinas, with a push of two buttons, or a command from Twilight's voice. But Sunset—probably rightfully so—didn't trust Twilight not to cheat using her own custom tech.
So, here Twilight was, with an old-fashioned cloth blindfold over her eyes, and exasperation rising in her heart despite her efforts to be patient. Patient for Sunset's sake. "Are we there yet?" she asked.
"Mmmmm..." she heard Sunset say beside her. "Probably at least another ten minutes? Hang in there, honey."
Twilight rolled her eyes, the very act of which sent her on what she already knew would be the best and worst logic question she'd ever asked herself: if you rolled your eyes while blindfolded, but nobody was able to see it, you did so subtly enough so as not to feel it, and your blindfolded state meant that your vision didn't shift during the action itself to prove to yourself that you, in point of fact, did roll your eyes... did you really roll your eyes?
Her mind instantly went into overdrive to gather all possible test cases. She would need a control, of course, and that could be easily arranged using the camera inside her phone, and all the eyerolls she was saving up to unleash on Sunset once this whole farce was over.
But that would be later. For the time being, she ran through multiple eyerolling scenarios, delving into the synchronous math and biology inherently involved in the act. Oh, and then there was the fact that everyone's eyes were subtly different in size! Sometimes in variance of mere millimeters! She would have to go back and account for that as well—
Her mind trailed off upon hearing an orchestral jingle, alerting the craft's passengers to the beginning of the local news. Twilight decided to give the eyeroll question a rest before her brain plunged itself into an infinite loop. It had been months since the last one, and they were never fun.
The jingle finished. Normally she would be seeing a hologram in front her, showing a newsroom and anchorwoman, occasionally accompanied by three-dimensional holo-surround footage related to whatever story was running. However, as Twilight still couldn't see, she settled on concentrating on the voice of the oddly chipper newscaster.
"Welcome to Canterlot News at Noon! In headlines today, Princess Celestia and President Celestia signed the Interdimensional Union Pact. This historic agreement, along with serving as the first known official declaration of alliance between two Equestrias, is the first step to opening free travel, trade, and tourism for civilians and citizens of both worlds.
While plans for the aforementioned are already in the works, officials say it will still take at least two years before people or ponies can pack their bags. In addition, a travel allotment system is in the drafting stages, to be voted on by both world's governments once ready. To further aid in these efforts, Northstar Technologies has revealed its partnership with Equestria's magical elite, as well as both governments, towards the creation of a revamped personal identification system, to allow for easy ways to distinguish each world's counterpart from the other."
"Are we there yet?" Twilight asked again. This was old news. A day old, but still old. Mainly because she'd been there.
"Almost," Sunset replied.
"Am I allowed to take this blindfold off yet?"
"Nope, sorry," Sunset singsonged.
Twilight huffed.
"In athletics news, the days count down to the completion of Cloudsdale City's new Omnisports Hall of Fame. Sponsored by multi-sports-team player-turned-coach Rainbow Dash, this new Hall of Fame is being constructed to encourage the children of the world that absolutely nothing is out of reach, and to "just try everything." Once the museum is completed, Rainbow Dash herself will be the first inductee, receiving the 'Worldwide Human Omnisports Awesome Award of Awesomeness', as coined by Dash herself. More news as it develops.
Meanwhile, in arts and fashion, renowned designer Coco Pommel held a press conference in downtown Manehattan to reveal Carousel Fashions' latest in the 'Rarity for All' fashion line. Using a revolutionary material invented by pony Equestria's Rarity called "Moonglow Fabric," our world's Rarity has now brought this shimmering material to our shores—and as you can see, the results are visually stunning."
"Gosh, sure would love to see all the new outfits," Twilight said. She knew footage of the runway would be playing now. Rarity always made sure it did during press spots.
"Come on, you know you and I can visit her anytime," Sunset said. "And she wouldn't let us out of there before she gave us a private show."
Twilight rolled her eyes again. Or didn't. She wasn't about to dive into that rabbit hole again.
"Finally, in movie news, the action-romance film reboot of A.K. Yearling's famous property, 'Daring Do and Her Heart's Desire' hit an opening weekend at the box office far larger than most critics predicted, with $700 million grossing domestically. When interviewed about its runaway success, writer-director-co-star Juniper Montage was quoted as saying, 'Yeah, I kind of knew how people were going to react to this when it was announced, but I did it anyway. Who's laughing now?', followed by several bouts of laughter. For Harmony News Network, I'm Gabriella Griffon."
"Are we there now?" Twilight said, scrunching her face. "I was willing to play around for this long, but now I'm actually getting worried. I'm pretty sure I designed our car's magic engines to be faster and more efficient than this."
"Actually..." Sunset was silent for a few moments before exclaiming, "Yes! I can see it down below!" Indeed, Twilight felt the vehicle begin its descent.
"Great! So, I can take this off now?" Twilight's hands moved to her blindfold. She felt Sunset's hands—usually soft and welcome, but right now a source of maddening, teasing frustration—stop them in their tracks. She felt Sunset move in close, and kiss Twilight's lips.
In an instant, Twilight's frustration was forgotten. She sighed, her heart rate slowing, her jaw loosening, her mind recalling memories. Memories of Sunset kissing her lips before, in so many places.
The library of Canterlot High School. Twilight's bedroom. Sunset's bedroom. Camp Everfree. Their college dorm room—gosh, there had been lots of kisses there—and various secluded locations in just about every city's central park.
Concerts. Movies. Sports games, fashion shows, and even wildlife fundraisers, whenever they were sure their friends weren't looking—and sometimes even when they were.
On the roof of Northstar Towers, on the night of its completion, with the moonlight shining directly on them both.
It had lasted for an eternity of minutes.
For several moments, Twilight truly hated herself for allowing those memories to slip sideways, amidst the hectic craziness that was now her daily life. As she sighed in satisfaction, she heard Sunset whisper in her ear:
"I promise you, it'll be worth it."
"Will... will it?" Twilight suddenly heard herself ask, in a high, pleading voice, as if she were twenty years younger again. She couldn't physically see her wife, but she'd be damned if Sunset's younger self, back in that hot blue outfit and leather jacket from when the two had first met, weren't sitting in front of her right now, clear as day.
Twilight hadn't gotten up the nerve to tell Sunset just how much she'd missed that outfit, yet. But until she did, she was just fine with seeing it whenever she closed her eyes—or in this case, when they were being closed for her.
"If it's not, I'll make it up to you tonight," Sunset said.
And then, the Sunset in her mind's eye was the one Twilight saw move in close, as she felt the real Sunset do the same, seconds before she felt kisses on her neck. Twilight squirmed her legs, exhaling, wrapping her arms around Sunset and pulling her closer.
The car's magic engines had long since powered down and cooled. All was quiet inside except for their movements. Free of the noise of the world, free of its sights, Twilight's other senses heightened. She could smell Sunset's perfume, feel Sunset's soft hooded jacket against her, feel the even softer skin of Sunset's fingers trailing across her cheek, appreciate Sunset's body pressed against her, her long, fiery hair splayed everywhere. Twilight's eyelashes fluttered under her blindfold as she took the deepest of breaths.
"T-Too long," she croaked. "Been too long. Make up now."
Sunset giggled. "Hon, you can't even see me."
"That'll matter eventually. Not now. Please," she said through another long, desperate gasp, squeezing Sunset even closer. "Just... please... I missed you. I missed you lots."
She heard Sunset give an empathetic moan. "We were only apart for a month."
"Only? That's the longest it's ever been," Twilight said.
"And that's one thing we can talk about sometime during this next month—to figure out how to make sure that doesn't happen again. Right?"
Twilight exhaled. "Right. But... until then?" Her fingers dug into the back of Sunset's coat. She could feel Sunset's fingers slip into and through her hair, feel Sunset breathing deeply too, just barely resisting giving in to Twilight's request.
Then she felt Sunset pull back. "Not yet. Not until you give this a chance. But after, yes. No matter what."
With a disappointed moan that Twilight couldn't help, she asked, "Promise?"
Sunset kissed Twilight's nose, then her lips once more. "I promise."
With a heavy sigh, Twilight relented. "Okay. One chance," she said, doing her best to cool down, but not having an easy time of it.
Sunset opened the door, helping Twilight out of the car and onto solid ground. Twilight heard the door close with a hiss, just before Sunset finally took off the blindfold. Shielding her eyes, she put on her multi-purpose smart spectacles, activated their gradual lighting function, and looked around herself.
Everything old was new again.
It felt like ages since Twilight had last visited Canterlot City. Probably because it had been. She didn't need anyone to tell her how much it had changed since she and Sunset were in high school—she'd laid the groundwork for about ninety percent of that change. However, it'd been a while since she'd taken in all the bright lights of the skyscrapers, the neon signs, and, in some cases, the neon skyscrapers. This didn't even take into account the magicar traffic zooming above them. Even in the late afternoon, everything shone brightly and in a rainbow of colors, making every day, in a way, Hearth's Warming.
Which made what was directly front of herself and Sunset all the more jarring. Before them stood a diner the two of them knew well—and looking exactly as they had left it the day they'd moved out of the city, over a decade ago.
"Oh my gosh," Twilight said, as she stared into what had to have been a time warp. A beige building with a red-and-pink awning smiled at her invitingly—the original Sugarcube Corner, preserved from the days of her youth. "It's still here. It's... it's still..." she trailed off.
"Yep," Sunset said. "I had that reaction when Applejack emailed me the pictures. She lobbied to have Sugarcube Corner declared a historical landmark, and the rest of the city council agreed in seconds. To say nothing of the citizenry. 'Course, part of that bargain meant keeping the retro vibe."
"Well, yes, but I mean, there's retro..." Twilight pointed to the signage above her. "And then there's still using tungsten-based incandescent lighting as opposed to Equestrian luminescence." She crossed her arms, turning her nose to the sky in mock indignance. "I'm think I'm insulted."
Sunset laughed, putting her arm around Twilight. "If it helps? Pretty sure it's still a style choice. I don't think this place is the type to be ungrateful to you for solving an entire world's power issues and advancing two worlds' technologies by fifty years in under half the time."
Twilight shifted back and forth on her feet, looking away. "I keep telling you, I didn't do that alone," she said. "It took two Twilights to do it, and a couple of Glimmers." She turned to Sunset with happy eyes. "And none of us would ever have met each other if not for you coming here in the first place. For better or worse, you're the key to this world becoming so much better than it already was." She stepped in front of Sunset, leaning against her. "And my world, too."
Sunset quickly looked away, but also squeezed her arm more firmly around Twilight. "Change is still good," she said softly.
Twilight sighed wistfully. "Yeah. Still good." She looked at Sunset. "Want to go have drinks inside a restaurant that time forgot?"
Sunset smiled and nodded at Twilight. "Sure, let's do it."
The two opened the door and walked inside.
Retro decor lined the walls—soothing blues and yellows were the order of the day given the interior decorating and the incandescent lights above. The wallpaper had been recently replaced, but bits of the old, frayed originals could be seen along the edges and corners of the ceilings and walls. The chairs and booths, once state-of-the art plush and metal, were now quaint in their now old-fashioned material, to say nothing of their stationary positioning. Modern restaurants had long since embraced mobile anti-gravity seating arrangements, in order to provide all patrons the exact view they wanted as they dined.
A jukebox in the corner scrolled a list of classic pop songs across its LED display—the one it was currently playing was one of Sapphire Shores's hits from twenty-five years ago, making both women feel like girls again. That illusion lasted all the way until they sat down and took off their coats, reminding Twilight that she'd come here in the same turquoise skirt suit she'd come to work in that morning.
Once they were seated, Twilight took out her phone, deactivating its projection capabilities and using its screen to look at her email, messages, and work inbox. The moment she did, she regretted it. The world around her blurred again, blurred amidst all the bolded subject lines, the incoming message count, the backlogged animated texts, the weight of all the people asking for her time.
The throbbing in her head started again. Her jovial mood, which had been in full force until mere moments ago, flew the coop. She sighed forlornly.
Then she felt Sunset's hand take hers, rescuing her from the abyss. She looked up to see a concerned look on her Sunset's face.
Sunset held out her other hand in a silent request for Twilight to hand the device over. "I know that look."
Twi let go of the phone, took hold of Sunset's other hand, shaking her head. "It's not what you think, this time. I'm just... preparing myself." With a deep breath, she said, "Spike, clear my obligations inbox." She looked up at Sunset again with a small smile. "I don't want anything getting in the way of my time off with my wife."
"You got it, Twilight!" Spike's voice sounded from the phone.
Twilight closed her eyes and exhaled. For a single moment, a pang hit her heart—the same one that always hit her whenever she asked a request of her central servers.
She knew she should change the voice. Accept that it'd been long enough. Accept that there were some things that were beyond even her abilities. But she could never bring herself to do so.
She opened her eyes and looked at Sunset again. Sunset smiled back. It helped. It always helped.
"All obligations tabled to a month from now, with auto-reply and auto-forwarding enabled," Spike's voice sounded over the phone. "Enjoy yourselves, and see you when you get back!"
"Thanks, Spike." Twilight sat back in her seat with a long sigh. "I don't care who or what happens—from this moment forward, Twilight Sparkle is off the clock."
She picked up the menu. A quick scan revealed that its choices hadn't changed much from when she was in high school, except for hay now being listed as a side option for most entrees, and for the logo at the top of the menu. Where the Cakes had originally been at the top, it was now Pinkie Pie's face which grinned back at her.
She pored over the menu, looking over the foods and drinks, when she suddenly realized that... she could do that. She could still focus on one thing at a time.
She looked around. Sugarcube Corner still didn't look any different. Didn't sound any different. Maybe that was it. Something about this place just... cleared her mind. The more she thought back, the more clearly she remembered that it always did.
She risked her current tranquility to think of her life as it current stood. An endless sea of messages, of invitations, meetings, public appearances. So many emails. So many "associates." So few friends. Even fewer best friends.
Only one super best friend.
Only one wife. Twilight lifted her eyes, just enough to stare at Sunset from above the top of the menu.
To heck with the blue-dress fantasy—Sunset still looked as beautiful as the day they'd met, even with life having caused her to swap out her black leather jacket for a cardigan of the same hue. She would have been absolutely gorgeous even if all the magic infused into the both of them over the years hadn't slowed their aging processes to roughly half speed by Twilight's calculations.
But it sure didn't hurt. Slowly, Twilight put the menu down. "I know what I want."
"From the menu?" Sunset asked, before seeing Twilight staring at her with lidded eyes.
"That too," Twilight replied.
Sunset blushed. With a toothy grin, Twilight added, "You really should be over here."
Barely hiding her giddiness, Sunset left her side of the booth. Twilight slid back towards the wall, welcoming Sunset into her space, allowing Sunset to sink into her, drape across her, like the warmest of blankets. She'd been with Sunset in blankets, but Sunset As Blanket was always better.
Once again, this was right. Once again, she was home. With Sunset, everywhere was home—whether it was an executive office, or a place as nostalgic as this. The two cuddled and sighed into each other.
"So, what do you want to do for the rest of our month?" Sunset asked. "I mean, this is only day one. We've still got tons of time. We could tour Applewood, go crazy in Las Pegasus, stargaze in Vanhoover..."
Twilight thought for a few moments, then replied," Do... we have to do anything?"
"Hmm?" Sunset said. "Have to admit, I didn't expect that." She turned her head to look at Twilight with a giggle, and nudged her glasses. "What happened to my jet-setting wife all of a sudden?"
Twilight scoffed and rolled her eyes. "She's jet-lagged. Seriously, I know the ambassador life's never a dull moment for you, but if you saw what my inbox looked like at any given time, you would absolutely melt. And not in the good way." She leaned back, pulling Sunset closer. "I'm loving just sitting here, doing nothing, and I've just decided that I'm perfectly fine with doing nothing until I absolutely have to do something. And even then, flip a coin."
"Then we can just do nothing," Sunset said. "I mean, in between bouts of this."
Turning around more, Sunset nibbled Twilight's neck again. Twilight squirmed, alternating between giggles and mewls. "Come on, Sunny, you're gonna get us thrown out of here!"
Sunset giggled back. "Didn't you say you wanted this?"
"I still do!" Twilight said, winking. "But in a roomier venue, where other people are paid to clean up after us."
"All right, fair enough," Sunset said, relenting. "But I'm holding you to that."
"Um, excuse me?" the two heard a voice say beside the table. They turned their heads to see a young beige woman wearing a retro blue skirt and even more retro roller skates. "Welcome to Sugarcube Corner!" she said in a thick accent. "I'm Zipporwhill. I saw you put your menus down—are you ready to order?"
The two women untangled themselves. "R-Right, of course!" Twilight said, already knowing what both of their answers would be. After both of them showed their IDs, she continued, "My lovely wife here will have a grape daiquiri, and I'll have the same thing I've always had..." She looked at Zipporwhill, then back at Sunset with a dreamy slanted smile. "An orange crush."
Sunset's face instantly crumpled as she fought to hold back an entire dam's worth of mirth.
"You got it!" Zipporwhill said. "Be back in just a bit!"
The second she left, Twilight's grin got bigger, and Sunset gave up, holding the top of her sweater up to her neck and laughing until she couldn't anymore. "You're awful," she finally said. "Like, seriously awful. But also, the greatest person in existence."
Twilight shrugged. "Every cheesy line in the universe, cheesiest line in the universe—what's the difference, right? Anyway, consider that payback for all that 'surprise' nonsense."
She adjusted her glasses and looked out the window. The fast-paced world outside, with its crowded neon-lit skyline, looked so far away compared to where she was right now. "But even with all the hoopla leading up to this... this was nice. Thanks for bringing me here. And, uh, ignoring my grouchiness along the way?"
"Of course, Twi," Sunset said, cuddling Twilight close. "Trust me, it was a calculated risk."
"With a huge payoff," Twilight replied. "Definite bonus points for venue choice."
"You think so?" Sunset said, her voice inquisitive.
Twilight nodded. "Yeah. I mean, I knew it would be worth it in the end? Because you're you. But I didn't expect to love what you had in mind this much."
Sunset smiled warmly. "I'm glad. Especially since... well, this is going to sound so silly? But I was honestly a little afraid of how you might react. Unrelated to the whole 'surprise' thing."
"Really?" Twilight turned Sunset's face to hers, running her fingers through her wife's hair. "Why?"
"Well, like I said—silly," Sunset said, clasping Twilight's wrist. "But I honestly kept thinking you..." Sunset hesitated. "Might have wanted something more... you know. Kinetic. Eventful. Razzle-dazzle."
Twilight's face flushed hot. She laughed her way through it. "Well, it does sound silly. Even kids don't use that slang anymore." She sighed. "But more to the point: that's every day for me now. And I'm betting it is for you too. You know what I like now? Getting away from that when I need to, and just being with my best friend. Who I can do this to." She steered her face towards Sunset's, and the two shared a long, deep, cathartic kiss.
"I know how you feel," Sunset said when they parted. "It's why I'm so glad we could finally set this up. We see each other so much 'on business', pass by each other so much, in and out of Equestria, back and forth..." Sunset sighed. "None of this was ever in those movies about married life." She looked into Twilight's eyes. "But I wouldn't change it. I'm doing what I love, usually with who I love, and I know she's in the same place in life. What more do I need?"
Twilight nodded. "Absolutely. No regrets." She glanced outside again. "That said, won't lie: your love may need her loving wife to remind her when to slow down occasionally? Because she's really bad at reminding herself."
Sunset giggled. "Oh, her loving wife always be happy to do that. Don't worry."
"Thanks. So, twenty-nine more days," Twilight said. "Perfect time to find the multiverse's most comfortable bed, and never leave it. Or you."
Zipporwhill arrived with the drinks, placing them next to each other. Instinctively, they moved to switch them, before realizing that they were already set to the correct person, and laughed. The two raised their glasses in a toast.
"Happy anniversary, Twilight Sparkle," Sunset said. "You brought the magic of friendship to your world as a natural resource... and you brought the magic of love to me. I said on our wedding day that I would return that love a hundredfold, and I'm nowhere near done yet."
"I only knew how to love you because you did so with me first. And for that, I'll always be grateful, and always love you, too. Happy anniversary, Sunset Shimmer."
The two clinked their glasses, took measured sips for as long as they could before brainfreeze could kick in, then swallowed, and exhaled. A warm embrace followed.
As they tasted each other's drinks on their tongues with another kiss, Twilight decided that maybe some surprises weren't so bad.
