Rearing Scootaloo

The room was dark. A moody hallway had a trail of fast food wrappings leading to said room. Very little light filtered into the room, but enough for the human eye to spot the black misshapen debris littering the floor. The room faintly smelled of days old fast food.

James was not expecting his house to be trashed when he got back from one of the most unusual and morally bankrupting week of his life, and this is from someone who somehow got transported to a different world, that actually had magic. Almost dying several times in one day really did a number to his psyche.

He briefly considered going to the police or gaurd or whatever. That could involve them looking into his life; however, his most recent life decisions within that week are not ones he’d want any kind of law enforcement to know about.

This was frustrating.

In the far corner of the room he could barely make out a small form within a mass of blankets and pillows. Something was squatting in his house already and he hasn’t even began to properly set up his house. Then again, he supposed squatters would take a house that appeared unoccupied.

Slowly, he approached the form, heart racing.

*Crinkle*

A balled up paper wrapper was in his path, now beneath his weight. Stopping his approach he stared intently at the sleeping mass, who didn’t seem to twitch. He carefully removed his foot, and headed back to the door. He searched for a switch and flipped it, lighting up the room.

The sight of fast food wrappings, boxes, and plastic cups littering the room made his eye twitch. No wonder why it smelled like a dead fart that was still lingering. It wasn’t potent but it was certainly present.

In the corner was all his blankets and pillows. Nestled within them was a orange filly or colt with an unkempt purple mane.

Any anger he was feeling moments ago dissipated into confusion. The pony was sleeping peacefully, despite the light and previous noise.

He slowly advanced avoiding anything in his path or quietly scooching it aside. He cleared a spot just on the edge of all the blankets and sat down on his knees, eyes trained on the resting pony.

It looked like a filly if the face structure was anything to go by. Why was a filly in his house? She must’ve been here for at least four days if the trash was anything to go by. Welp, there was only one way to find out.

“Ahem,” he sounded. The ponies ear made a slight twitch but otherwise seemed unaffected. He sounded again, louder.

The pony got up revealing a pair of small wings as they stretched. She let out a yawn and lazily blinked and rubbed her purple eyes. She stopped. She shook in place as her eyes locked onto him. Her wings held tightly to her sides, shaking.

“What’s going on here?” he asked in as friendly a voice he could muster.

She shot out of the blankets and tried to run, only to slam into the wall behind her. She scrambled back up and tried to run past him.

After one year of foalsitting he was used to some of the younger ones trying to get out of bath time not that she was a one of the younger ones. Either way, he easily snatched the filly up. He stood up with both his hands holding her chest at her armpits.

“AHHHHHHHH~” The filly screamed, as her legs flailed and kicked at him. He held her far enough away so none could hit him. Wings fluttered sporadically, “SOMEPONY HE-”

He quickly put one of his hands over her mouth stopping her loud yelling, and saving his ears drums some pain. She struggled more.

He was losing his grip, since he only had one hand holding her up, so he quickly brought her back to his chest. He kept his hand firmly around her mouth. He felt a lot of wetness pour on his stomach.

Looking down revealed she was pissing all over him through her mangy tail which was tightly pressed up to her barrel, keeping anything of a sensual nature from sight. He cringed at the warm liquid.

He could feel her wings beat at his chest, so he smothered them in an attempt to get them to stop.

“Calm down,” he requested, ignoring the wetness traveling down and the slight smell that began wafting up.

She did not.

He held her firmly.

This was somewhat similar to activities he and his special somepony had shared and it was a shocking thought, he cringed, “I’m not going to hurt you.” She was still struggling fruitlessly. “For now I just want to talk.”

She just kept at it.

After a little bit she got worn out and/or she was realizing her efforts were pointless, “I’m going to remove my hand so you can talk, key word talk. Not scream my ears off. I have many questions and I’d like answers, because this is my house, so my first question is what’s your name?”

He removed his and hand, “aha- wings, ha- too much-ah my wings-” she complained oddly in a tomboyish voice.

He knew how to preene wings and that they were delicate from his whole one week of training a year ago. Fearing he might’ve hurt them, he stopped smothering them. She let out a couple hearty breaths of relief, “sorry,” he apologized, “is that better?” he asked.

“...My name is Scootaloo,” she huffed bitterly after she recovered, looking straight ahead at the wall.

“Okay, so Scootaloo why did I find you squatting in my house?”

“Squatting?” she asked a little bit more feminine but still tomboyish voice.

“It means living in a place that you have no legal right to.” He answered.

“Oh, nopony seemed to live here,” she answered a little less bitterly.

He idly wondered how she got in. Probable a window was unlocked, likely the room they currently occupied he guessed, “well, you’re right, I’m not a pony,” he stated. “How come you're not at your own home?”

She snorted angrily but didn’t say anything.

“Alrighty then, I’m not going to make you answer any question you don’t want to.” He really was curious as to why she was here. The many possible reasons came to him and he liked none of them. The best possible option was she ran away for some stupid reason, got completely lost and was too stubborn to admit she was being stupid. He hoped it was that as opposed to her parents abandoning her or some other horrible thing.

“Really?” she asked with a hint of something that wasn’t bitterness or anger.

“Yes, but!” he said quickly and abruptly, “I am going to make you help me clean up this mess you made, it’s only fair wouldn’t you agree?” He looked down at her ragged mane and her dirty coat. He could smell and feel the piss soaked in his shirt and pants. Her sweat, the leftover fast food, and something a little stronger he couldn’t quite place mixed into the smells. It was awful and wrong. She really needed a shower, and so did he for that matter.

She crossed her forelegs and grumbled. He wouldn’t put it past her trying to run away, no matter what he said, the moment he let her down. She honestly looked like she’s been living in some kind of hell, and he did not want to be responsible for her finding a worse one. She was just a filly. It was unacceptable that she would be in this state.

An idea came to him. He held onto her a little tighter with one hand and reached into his pocket with the other. He pulled out the bag of bits Rarity gave him earlier today, “I’ll even pay you all this if you help me,” he offered presenting her the bag.

She zeroed in on it as soon as it came into sight. He put it in between her reaching forehooves and let her take them. She looked over the bag, “how come it’s wet?” she asked touching said wetness on the one side, “it’s warm.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the image of her throwing the bag haphazardly away when she realized what it was, “that’s your pee,” he answered eagerly waiting for her to freak out, “remember you pee’d all over me?”

“Oh, sorry,” she said bashfully removing her hoof and avoiding touching the wet spot best she could. That was not the reaction he was expecting, “that’s a lot of bits,” she commented as she peered into the bag.

In truth it was enough to pay a months rent at a cheap apartment. When he was a kid that seemed like a lot of money, but well it’s not, “and it’s all yours,” he said swiping it from her hooves and putting it back into his pocket, “if you help me clean up the mess you made. Do we have a deal?”

She fidgeted around, “FINE!” she yelled kicking her legs out. He walked out the room, still holding on to her, “What are you doing?” she asked with a little bit of fear in her voice as she looked up towards him. Her little muzzle almost reaching his chin.

He opened a door across the hallway, “I’m looking for the bathroom,” he answered as the room behind said door was not a bathroom. She curled up a little and looked at the door he was headed towards next. He went further down the hallway to the next door and opened it.

It was dark but he could see the outlines of the sink/cabinet/mirror and toilet. He held Scootaloo with one hand while he found the switch to the lights.

Upon them turning on revealed his glorious bathroom. More specifically his wondrous shower. It was large for a shower. The bottom of the shower is a indented white floor that goes up one foot to glass panels and a sliding glass door that made up two forth of the walls. On the opposite side of the entrance the indented floor rose up to almost waist high making a bench of sorts along its length. Above and behind the raised platform where two holes/shelves, for holding things.

The bathroom itself had small white marble squares for walls and large deep blue tiled floor. He really liked what they did with it. It wasn’t long before he noticed some small hoof prints leading to the toilet, suggesting that she’s been in here, “when’s the last time you took a shower or bath?”

“I don’t know a week or so? I’ve been swimming in the lake to get clean,” she answered, “Why?”

He blinked, as he now knew what that other smell was, “because you smell and look like a stray cat that’s been in a dumpster.” He said sliding the glass door open, and gently setting her down inside.

She bucked at him and missed. She jumped forward when her hind legs landed, “I’m not a stray cat!”

“How come you haven't used this wonderful shower?” he asked ignoring the glare she was giving him.

“I can’t reach the knob,” she said gesturing to said knob.

“Oh,” he said seeing that indeed she couldn’t reach it, “then how come you didn’t bring something here to prop yourself up like a box?” He asked.

“I-I don’t need to explain myself to you!” she yelled looking peeved and blushing clearly embarrassed about not thinking of that.

“Awww, you’re cute when you’re angry,” he reached in to do something.

“I’m not cute!” she yelled looking more of those things, “I’m, I’m-” she looked down her lower lip was trembling, “Gahh!” Scootaloo screamed as water showered on her. “Cold!” she yelled getting out of its path shivering.

He turned the knob to the direction that indicated heat and tested the water with his hand. After a little bit, “okay its warm, now get yourself clean. Ima go find some soap,” he said as he began closing the sliding glass door.

“Wait!” she yelled stopping him, “what are you?”

“I’m a human,” he said giving her a thumbs up and weak smile. She merely looked at him.

He closed the door took off his shirt and put it in the path of the sliding door, “What are you doing?” She asked muffled behind the glass.

“I’m making sure you can’t run away while I get you some soap,” he said as he tested his work. It was harder to open the sliding glass door. He left the bathroom closing the door behind him and quickly ran up to the mess of a living room. He rifled through the mess until he found the box labeled bathroom supplies in its original container unopened or tampered with oddly enough. The box of towels that was on top of it was opened and gutted out in a messy display.

He grabbed a towel and some soap and hurried back to the shower. He heard wet hoofsteps quickly move. He saw the glass door slightly open and Scootaloo had her back to him scrubbing her coat in the shower, “I’m not stupid you know,” he moved to the shower and tossed in the soap from the crack, “there,” he said before closing the door, “let me know when you’re done,” he said setting the towel on the sink counter.

He sat on the toilet seat and waited till she was done. It was a little drafty without his shirt on but it was better than the wet substance on his shirt. He’d take off his pants and underwear too if it wasn’t for the fact he had company that wasn’t Sweetie.

Once Scootaloo was done he took the towel opened the door, turned off the shower and gestured her out. She shook herself like a dog fligging water everywhere in the shower. Warily, she walked out, getting on her hind legs to get over the foot height and out onto the blue tiles. She slipped immediately on the shiney blue tiles.

He laughed as she skidded to the other side of the bathroom into the wall, all while trying to stop it, "real funny," she complained weakly as she struggled to stand up, glaring up at him. He decided that getting a carpet or using another towel would be needed there.

“couldn't help myself, sorry" he apologized, "here, dry yourself off, we’re cleaning this stuff tonight. I don’t trust you not to try to run away at least before you clean your mess,” he stated.

She began doing just that with the towel he provided.

He found himself in a delima. He needed information so he could help her, but couldn’t make her give said information. An idea came to him, “I said I wouldn’t force you to answer any questions, but I’m willing to pay you five bits a question if you answer them honestly while we clean. Hows that sound?”

She threw the towel aside. “What’s the catch?” she asked accusingly eyes narrowing and wings spread wide as she peered up at him. Her orange coat and mane were now clean and dry, but the latter was still rugged.

He was surprised by her sudden lack of fear, “no catch, I’m just really concerned about your welfare right now,” he answered holding out his hands and crossing them several times swiftly.

She glared a little longer, “...alright, but I won’t answer if I don’t want to.”

“That’s fine,” he assured her, “it’s totally up to you whether or not the answer is worth five bits.” He opened the door and walked out into the hallway Scootaloo cautiously behind. He lead her to the room she had been sleeping in keeping his eyes on her as she kept her eyes on him. Once they entered he closed and locked the door behind her. The window was closed but maybe not locked, “okay, you get that side” he said gesturing opposite to the of all the blankets, “I’ll get this side.”

Scootaloo unhappily moved to the side. And began picking up some trash as he went to the blankets, “What do you want me to do with it?” She asked.

He thought about that for a moment, “just put it all in that corner for now,” he said pointing to said corner, “So first question for five bits, is Scootaloo really your name?”

“Yes,” she answered without any comment.

“Okay, just so I can keep track, I’m going to keep saying how many bits you got, to avoid confusion. For five more bits totaling in for ten bits does that sounds good?”

She looked at him oddly, “ya… wait, I’m still getting that bag of bits you showed me right?”

“Yes, but that bag of bits is for helping me clean up this mess,” he answered as he folded one of his blankets. They all needed to get cleaned, especially the one that he used to clean up the wetness Scootaloo left, the smell of which he was actively ignoring, “for five more bits making it fifteen bits, what’s your favorite color?”

...

He continued asking her easy questions like what her favorite this or that was as they cleaned. He learned that she liked the Wonder Bolts. He learned that she liked chocolate ice-cream. He basically learned she was a rebellious tomboy.

She relaxed a little bit and clearly was getting drowsy as a result. It was late after all. By the time all the trash was in one corner and the blankets were folded and stacked separately via cleanliness he owed her sixty five more bits.

“Alright, that should be good for now,” he said unlocking the door, “come on we still have the living room to at least start on,” he gestured while opening the door. He walked out and down the hall eyes trained downward on the trail of wrappers, “could you get those and put them in the pile, please,” he asked while holding the door so she couldn’t close it on him.

She huffed about it and grumbled something but did so. He watched her closely to make sure she didn’t try something.

“Thank you Scootaloo,” he thanked then turned off the light and closed the door when she was back in the hallway. They walked to the living room but James froze. The front door to his house was open. He face palmed at his stupidity. He never closed the front door. Scattered letters from his initial shock at the state of his living room were still laying at the front door.

Scootaloo now ahead of him by a little bit stopped and looked up to him then to where he was looking. She jumped a little. She was undoubtedly about to make a run for it, but she hesitated and looked back to him.

He looked down to her and tried to keep his face neutral, “I have at least one more question,” he said backing up in an attempt to make her relax, “for five more bits totaling in seventy bits, do you have a building in Ponyville that you can stay in for the night?”

She backed up away from him towards the door, “No, but I do have some places I can stay.”

“That is unfortunate,” he stated. He hoped that meant she used the train to get here or hitched a ride on some ponies cart, “Well, you’re welcome to stay here if you want, for tonight at least,” she looked unsure about the offer and tripped over a small box as she continued her backwards movement.

She quickly got up and looked back to him before looking behind herself to make sure that didn’t happen again while constantly rechecking on him. He sighed pulled out the bag of bits and threw it towards her and then he sat down indian style, “What are you doing?” She asked as she quickly grabbed the bag and backed away, but stopped short of turning and running.

“I’m worried about you Scootaloo,” he admitted, “I don’t want you to run off and get yourself hurt or worse. You’re just a filly for Pete's sake.”

“I can take care of myself Human!” She snapped.

“That’s a load of bologna. You were living in filth and smelled like a professional dumpster diver. Don’t try to deny it because we both know it’s true.” He pointed out.

“Why do you even care Human!?”

“My name is James by the way. Sorry if I had a hundred different things on my mind other than telling you my name,” he explained, “I care because I have a heart and if I’m actually in a position to do something good I’m going to do it! And right now I see a filly named Scootaloo who needs help and I am going to help her! But, I can’t do that if you don’t let me.”

“Oh,” was all she said, looking down dejectedly. Her lower lip once again quivering.

He sighed, “If I leave the door open and not go near you. Will you help me clean some of this mess please? Also, I still need to pay you for the questions you answered.”

She looked up and frowned, “fine, but I’ll clean up there,” she said pointing to the area closest to the door.

“That’s okay, and thank you for helping me clean your mess.”

“Whatever.”

They went to putting things in their appropriately labeled boxes in silence. James was glad he carried a lot of bits on himself at all times, because why not? He was rich. He must've spent only a quarter of it last week. He learned things in Ponyville where much much cheaper than in Canterlot. He had more than enough bits to give to Scootaloo and that was all that mattered. With that said he had plans to visit the bank tomorrow.

He continued cleaning his side of the living room and lost track of Scootaloo. He stopped and looked around. He heard a snore and walked to her side of the less messy room. He found her curled up in a wide box sleeping. It was adorable. He got a towel and draped it over her before going to the front door and silently closing it.

He looked for a pen and paper and wrote her a note. He propped the note up to a bag of bits he left in front of her inside the box. He hoped she didn’t just take the bits and run, unless she ran back to her home, but he wouldn’t know that and it would bug him, which is why the note told her to write to him if she did so. So he knew she was safe so he wouldn’t feel guilty about not going to the authorities.

With a yawn he looked for one of his work suits, and grabbed another towel. He took a shower, dried off, put on his work cloths and explored the rest of his house.

He found his master bedroom at the very end of the hall. He got some of the cleaner blankets and pillows and set them on the floor. He laid down, but the hardwood floor was a little too hard so he got some of the less nicer blankets as padding and laid down again. Sleep overtook him.