Convince Me to Like You

by B_25

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Rainbow Dash, Spike, Random, Slice of Life
Length: 3709

We all want to be liked. If we could, we'd take acceptance and respect, but, for the time being, we'll take just being liked. What happens when a dragon dislikes us?

We all want to be liked. If we could, we'd take acceptance and respect, but, for the time being, we'll take just being liked. What happens when a dragon dislikes us? Will we take the time to convince him otherwise, that we all are worthy of being liked, not on what we have done, but on who we are?

Published 2018-07-04 15:20:07 UTC
Last updated 2018-07-04 15:20:07 UTC

Convince Me to Dislike You

Convince Me to Like You
B_25

“I dislike everypony.”

Spike made this proclamation early in the afternoon. He was standing atop a small stage, one set in the center of Ponyville, and all the passing ponies paused to hear his words. Some tilted their heads and others continued walking.

“I don't know a thing about you,” Spike continued from the stage, setting his gaze inches above the gathering crowd, “and I'm too lazy to make a connection with you. So, unless you can convince me otherwise, I will continue to dislike you.”

Spike walked across the stage, the crowd's gaze following him, as he then promptly hopped off its side, landed on the grass below, carried himself a few feet to an adjacent table, and proceeded to sit down. Without another word, he crossed his arms, and kept still.

The resulting minutes were filled with whispers.

“Isn't that the princess's assistant?” a mare said aloud, turning to look at the stallion next to her. “I think his name was Spike, or was it?”

The stallion nodded, his expression stoic. “Same dragon responsible for the rampage way back when.” He shook his head. “I dunno what's gotten into his head this time.”

The mare tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“Something's always going on with that kid,” the stallion said, moving his muzzle to spit. “Always tryna make somethin' outta nothin'.” His eyes narrowed on the table and at the dragon. “Nearly as bad as that princess in a way, though at least she cleans up her messes.”

The mare pouted. “Do you think he's trying to make a mess now?”

“I reckon so.” The stallion nudged his head away. “Best we leave this mess to her as well.” He turned around and began to walk. “Gonna be a long day for them more sensitive folks.”

The mare turned around as well, but before she could take a step forward, a sudden voice seized her.

“What in the hay is going on here?!” came the loud but squeaky voice from above. The mare looked up, gazing on the descending cyan pegasus. “Wha...Spike?”

Rainbow Dash touched gently town in-front of the crowd of ponies, wings tucking to her sides as she began forward to the table. She went to say something, but glanced at the sign next to the table, one that read: 'I dislike you. Convince me otherwise.'

Rainbow blinked as she stopped before the table. A few seconds of silence and blinking, and the pegasus returned to staring at the dragon. “Yo, Spike, what's going on here?”

“A test,” Spike said.

“...a test for what?”

“A test to see if ponies are able to make me like them,” Spike said, uncrossing his arms. “Would you like to give it a try?”

“To make you like me?”

Spike nodded.

“Oh pulease.” Rainbow flicked her mane and stuck out her fluffy chest. “I'm the coolest pegasus around. Everypony already does like me.”

“But I'm not a pony, Rainbow” Spike replied, shifting in his seat. “I'm a dragon. A dragon that doesn't like you.”

Rainbow froze, gulped, and blinked. “Uh.” She glanced around before looking back at him. “Say what now?”

“I don't like you, Rainbow Dash.” Spike cracked his neck left and right, and then pointed at the sign. “In fact, I dislike like you, unless you can convenience me otherwise.”

“What?” In a flash, confusion switched to anger, and Rainbow put her forehooves on the table, hovering over the sitting dragon. “And why should I have to convince you of anything?!” She pushed her muzzle forward. “I already know I'm awesome.” She swept a hoof across the air in the along the direction of the crowd. “They already know I'm awesome, so why should I care what you have to say?” She went to say more, but found herself blinking, and even more surprising, thinking before any more words could leave her.

“Hold on.” Rainbow pulled back, but left her hooves on the table. “Why are you even doing something like this in the first place?”

“Because I wanted to test something,” Spike said. He then shrugged. “Besides, I was bored anyway, and Twilight gave me the day off.”

“What the hay is wrong with you, dude?” Rainbow said. “You get a day off, and you spend it telling ponies you don't like 'em?”

Spike nodded.

“Fine. Whatever.” Rainbow slipped her hooves down and back onto the grass, turning around as she began to walk away. “You do you.” She unfurled her wings. “Just don't expect me to come saving your scaly flank once you piss somepony off.”

Spike tilted his head and smiled. “I don't ask favors from ponies I don't like.”

Rainbow Dash went to take off, but instead of that, promptly tucked in her wings, glared at the crowd, where a couple of hushed whispers had emerged Inhaling deeply and closing her eyes, she then turned around, and when her eyes reopened, she glared at the dragon in determination.

“Alright,” she said in a tone devoid of emotion, walking over to the table and swiftly sitting down. She flicked her prismatic tail as she leaned forward. “Game on. Hope you're ready to face the best.”

Spike blinked. “You're the best?”

“Yup.”

“At what?”

“Everything.”

Whistles came out from the crowd.

Spike took a second to glance at the crowd, to see all the ponies looking, staring, and glaring at him. Usually, such negative attention would create a pit in his stomach and he wouldn't be able to stop his claws from shaking, but now, he felt nothing at all. He looked back at Rainbow. “Why should I like you?”

“I dunno. Maybe because I'm the best?” Rainbow replied in a mocking tone. “We kinda just covered this. Weren't you paying attention?”

“I was paying attention, but I didn't care,” Spike replied, and to which, another roar of whispers erupted from the crowd. The ponies out on the streets were beginning amble over to the scene. “You can say you're the best, but is that true for anypony other yourself?”

“Of course it's true!” Rainbow shouted as she raised an inch off the wood, and in feeling the gazes of the crowd fall upon her, became suddenly aware of her heartbeat—it was pounding against her fluffy chest. “I mean, well, most ponies think I'm the best.”

“Like who?”

“Duh, my friends of course.” Rainbow sat back down on the seat, resting her forelegs on the table as she slouched. “They're always telling me about how cool I am and stuff. Oh!” Her wings flared slightly. “And Scootaloo is, like, my biggest fan and all that.” She struck a forehoof forward. “Ha! Take that.” She brought her forehoof back. “Others do think I'm awesome.”

The crowd, through intention or not, began to draw around the table.

Rainbow, for her part, couldn't stop herself from smirking. The feeling of her heartbeat faded as confidence filled her veins once more.

“Huh,” Spike said at last, propping his elbow onto the table as his palm held up his cheek. “Is that how that works? Other ponies decide if you're the best or not and then tell you?”

“Uh...” Rainbow's mouth went agape. “...it's, ahem, sorta somthin' like that.” She gulped. “I think?”

“If that's the case, then don't other ponies become your judges?”

“J-Judges?!” Rainbow's eyes widen as the pounding of her heartbeat returned. “W-Who's gonna judge a p-pony like me?” She gulped, taking a hoof to rub that back of her neck. “The only ponies who j-judge me are the W-Wonderbolts!”

“No they're not,” Spike said with the shake of his head. “If you're depending on other ponies to determine whether you're awesome or not, then that means everypony else becomes your judge, and they decide whether or not you are what you say you are.” He then blinked. “You do believe that everypony thinks you're awesome, right?”

“O-Of course I do!” Rainbow turned to the side so she could face the crowd again, the distant ponies with obscure faces. They stared at her, silently. “C'mon, let's be real here.” Her throat felt dryer than a desert a quick cough took her. “Everypony here already thinks I'm awesome, right?”

The crowd was silent.

“Y'all can quit yanking at my chain now,” Rainbow said with her voice cracking. Swallowing, she rose from her seat, her wings flaring out, and she turned to face the crowd head-on. “You all already know I'm the best without having to admit it.”

The crowd was silent.

“Okay, if that's the case, then why don't we look at the cold hard facts on why I'm awesome.” Rainbow's hooves made contact with the grass as she began to pace back and forth. “Who else here was the youngest filly to perform the sonic rainboom?” A moment of silence. She turned and pointed at the crowd. “That's right, me.”

The crowd was silent.

“Alright!” Rainbow turned to face the dragon, the one cast off from the crowd, the one she could fully see. “You want reasons to like me, then I'll give you some!” Instead of placing of her hooves on the table, she instead stood upon it, glaring down at him from above. “Who else here is as fast as a flyer as me?”

Spike was silent.

“Who else here is a soon to be Wonderbolt?” Rainbow asked and didn't wait for a response. “Me. Who else has saved Equestria's butt over and over? Me.” With a powerful flap of her wings, Rainbow lifted off from the ground. She hovered, resting on her back while in the air, gliding over the grass. “Face it, small fry, I'm the biggest and best hero this world has seen yet.”

Spike was silent.

Rainbow grinned. “What's wrong? Can't think of somepony else cooler than me? Can't say I blame ya, since, y'know, I'm an Element of Harmony, unlike—“

“Unlike Twilight, who just so happens to be a princess,” Spike replied, not with any malice, but just counter arguments. “Your basis for being cool or awesome or liked is based on your accomplishments? What about Twilight, then?”

Rainbow flipped forward. “What about Twi?”

“She's got all your accomplishments beat and then some,” Spike said as he held up his claw. “You might have broken the sonic rainboom, but Twilight was able to hatch a dragon egg. Not only that, but she managed to accelerate the growth process for that dragon while still having plenty of power to spare.”

“So what!” Rainbow flicked her mane and crossed her forelegs. “Twilight's got me beat in one gig. It's no big deal.”

“She's got you beat in every deal possible,” Spike continued, lifting the digits of his claw after having made a point. “She's taller than you, got wings, plus a horn able to cast spells that have driven others to insanity! You might be a Wonderbolt soon, but the Wonderbolts serve the princess.” He dropped his claw to the table. “And once more, that makes you inferior to the princess.”

“Inferior!” Rainbow snapped as her forelegs dropped. “You seriously think I'm inferior to Twilight?”

“If we're going by accomplishments...yeah.” Spike gave it a second thought to be safe, but ended up nodding anyway. “You say I should like you because you're the best, and you're the best because of your accomplishments, because of the ponies that think you're the best.”

Rainbow felt ready to vomit as her stomach felt...wrong. She didn't let it show. All she could do was glide ever forward, as silently and as menacingly as possibly, hovering over, above the dragon—to snuff his horrible words with her image alone.

“But that only works if you're actually the best,” Spike said. He stopped his train of speech to think for a moment, to ponder why he was doing this, while he was taking this matter, this concept, this pony's—and friend's—life and desiccating with the coolness of a pseudo-intellect.

He wanted to stop. It wasn't because his friend was hovering high above him, or how cold her shadow felt on his scales, or even because this was a plot of revenge taken to far—none of this was plotted, none of this was personal, it was just a logical discussion.

“But in this case,” Spike continued before his words could finish, “Twilight's the best. Or, at the very least, she's better than you.” He put emphasis on that word, knowing it did nothing to strengthen his argument...but sensing it weakened his opponent. “You may have a fan-club, but Twilight has a kingdom that bows to her.”

Rainbow didn't say anything to that, no threat and no reply, and no attack either. She floated back, silently, as the words continue to crash down on her, even though she was above him.

“If the basis for me liking you is set on you being the best, then by default, I shouldn't like you one bit.” Spike leaned back in his chair, feeling strangely pleased with himself. “Means I should respect the crud outta Twilight though.”

The crowd was silent.

Rainbow was silent.

Spike kept talking throughout the day.

The following sessions didn't go much differently than the first.

Spike began the experiment with the intent to try and be as objective as possible. It made sense, after all, to ensure the results from the test were legitimate, that he could take the fruits of his labor to heart for when everything was all said and done.

But his intent had given away to empathy, and, having used empathy to understand somepony else, used that knowledge to tear away at their core, to reveal who they really were, and to discard the beliefs that had carried said ponies throughout their lives.

There was a strange joy to it. Destroying someone meant they could never return to what they once were, a victory beyond the temporary, and even if that pony should change after talking to him, he would be the reason, and that in of itself still placed himself above everypony else.

He continued the argument with other ponies, those who criticized him for his actions, and, in response, he analyzed why they were even stepping forward in the first place. With their morals disassemble and their vanity exposed, mares would start running from the table, sometimes crying.

Afternoon shifted to evening, and as the crowd became smaller in numbers, the dragon's tongue grew sharper. No one proves a worthy opponent at the table—every wit was beatable. In the absence of a true opponent, Spike began to analyze his own reasons and thoughts for doing this, dissecting what he felt as he tore others apart.

He wanted to see if others could make him like them. This request befuddle everypony at first, but after the realization that someone they knew, someone right in front of them did not like them, it was an all too great temptation to draw them to his table, to defend their worth to the judge that was a dragon.

But Spike was too clever for his own good, and in every word of another charity, he saw the self-interest that laid behind it. Soon, as only a few ponies remained, it became clear that he could destroy anyone who tried to assert their worth to them.

And he didn't know why or how that was possible, or better yet, why he enjoyed tearing others down so much.

Of course, like the day itself, his little experiment was coming to an end, as all the ponies, the crowd combined, had either run away or left.

Spike pushed his chair back from the table and stood up. Stretching, he pooped the kinks he'd developed from the rapid succession of his sessions, feeling all the pent-up tension slip through his scales into the cool, evening air.

With his stretches finished, he came around to the sign in the ground. He went to grab it, but stopped when a hoof fell before it.

He looked up. “Huh?”

It was a mare.

“I was, ah, just about to close up,” Spike replied, though he stood back up. “But uh, if you're up for it, I suppose I could go another round.” He scratched the back of his head and looked down at the spot between his feet. “Though, to be honest, you probably got better stuff you could be doing.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw her shake her head.

“I've got the night off,” the mare said, drawing his gaze to her muzzle. She smiled. “I wouldn't mind talking with you.” She turned and looked off into the dimly lit street. “But is it okay if we walk and talk? I hate keeping still.”

Spike blinked. “...yeah, me too.”

A few seconds later, and the two were on their way, side by side, leaving the table behind.

The duo didn't say anything at first, which was odd, because that's how the experiment worked. They'd pass through most of the town before Spike even looked at the mare, who he was almost the same height as, though she never looked at him as he strolled forward.

At first, he thought that this was a trap, a way to get him to the outskirts of town. Mares and stallions would be waiting, outside of the protective eye of the Crystal Castle, and before he could so much as scream, every scale will have been ripped from his body. He even closed his eyes at the thought, nodding in acceptance of such a punishment, and when his eyes opened again, he saw only the tall trees of the Apple's farm approaching.

“What—“ Spike coughed “—are we doing here.”

The mare glanced over at him, smiling. “Walking!”

Spike blinked. “I figured that much.” He rubbed his arm. “I just thought, I dunno, we're supposed to be talking and stuff.”

“We can talk, then,” she said, looking forward. “What would you like to talk about?”

“You, I guess.” Spike felt so...off. The day had begun in absurdity and was ending in awkwardness. “You're supposed to be trying to make me like you and all that.”

“But I am trying to make you like me,” the mare said. The cobblestone transitioned to dirt beneath their hooves and their feet. “I am going on a walk with you, after all.”

“And a walk is supposed to make me like you?”

“Maybe.” The mare giggled. “Unless you hate walking. In that case, this will probably make you dislike me all the more.”

Spike pressed the tip of his tongue against the ceiling of his mouth. “Hmm.” He shrugged. “Nah, I enjoy walking.”

The mare blinked, turning her head to him. “You do?”

“Mm. Yeah.” Spike, exhaling his tension away, placed his claws on the back of his head. “Drama between friends, world ending battles—paperwork.” He gazed up at the tree branches. “I try to break away from it all whenever I get the chance, and a walk is always a perfect excuse.”

“Plus it's great for fresh air!”

“Yeah...” Spike said, letting her words ring out in his head. “Fresh air is always nice.” He smiled. “Thinking is too.”

“Really?” the mare replied. “That's weird.”

“Huh?” Spike looked back down at her. “Why's that?”

“I do my best not to think,” the mare said simply and with a smile. “Seems like a waste of time to me.” She then blinked repeatedly. “But it's cool if you like to think though!”

“Uh, thanks?” Spike was so confused, so horribly and wonderfully confused. There was so much wrong about this situation, so much of it out of the blue that didn't make much sense, and after the kind of day he had, he wasn't sure he had the mental faculty to process what was happening. “I mean, it's crazier for me to believe that you don't think. Like, at all.”

She shook her head.

“That's just impossible for me,” Spike began as he looked up, staring into the dying blue sky beyond the treetops. “Thinking is a must for me, it's just a way of being I can't kick. I have to think, or else nothing makes sense.”

“Why do things have to make sense?”

Spike opened his mouth, and, in thinking of an answer, had none come out in the form of words. Above, like a silent phantom, Rainbow sliced through the clouds, her form perfect and beautiful against the backdrop of the sky.

“I guess they don't,” Spike said at last. “It helps to make sense of things, to understand stuff on your terms.”

“But shouldn't you just enjoy a thing for what it is?” the mare asked. “To just enjoy life and ponies for exactly what they are, even if there's something beyond them to think about?”

Spike could feel his world becoming vague as his body felt light.

The mare stepped out in front of him, perfect and non-existent, somehow still smiling.

“You don't need to know a pony's worth to value them.”

Blackness. Darkness.

Same thing.

“Spike!” The door to the bedroom opened with a squeak and was followed by a nag. “C'mon! It's time to wake up.” The door creaked further as hooves clopped against the titles of the floor. “I know I said you could take the day off, but that doesn't mean you should spend it in bed.”

Spike blinked. He threw up his claws, long and lanky, and reached toward the ceiling. After a few seconds, he collapsed once more, the blanket covering his naked body. He rolled over and looked at Twilight. “Mornin'”

Twilight shook her head. “Nuh-huh. It's the afternoon.”

It was late into the afternoon when Spike made the following proclamation.:

“I like everypony.”

After retiring from the stage set in the middle of Ponyville, he found himself sitting at the opposite side of a table, a crowd drawn by his small speech. Ponies were curious as to why someone, a dragon of all creatures, would like somepony like them, and not only that, but like them without knowing a thing about them.

It wasn't long before ponies stepped forward to convince Spike to dislike them.

And he augured back their points with the same intensity he possessed in his dream.