One Thing Leads to Another
The Domino Effect: The occurrence in which one event will trigger another and continue on in said fashion much like a line of dominoes knocking one another over. Common examples can be found in a banana peel being tossed carelessly to the ground which leads to a careless individual slipping on it, thus opening him for the laughter of surrounding passerby. Or, at least to provide a valid point in this particular tale, boy meets girl which leads to the boy and girl becoming involved with one another, and we all know where it would go from there.
But what if the boy had already met and fallen for the girl, how does the domino effect continue? Everything couldn't simply fall back on random chance and the human mind, could it? Perhaps it could, and perhaps it couldn't, however we shall find in this tale that many events may happen before one thing eventually leads to another.
It is said that disasters and miracles can occur at the drop of a pin, this next event, though neither a catastrophe or divine intervention, shall come about at the drop of a book.
Inside of a great, hollowed out oak tree that served as a public library for the small hamlet of Ponyville it seemed as though a young woman was giving orders to a stack of books that had miraculously grown legs of torn up jeans. The stack wobbled and leaned like a great tower before correcting itself with an adolescent grunt.
"Spike, please be careful with those! We don't want another mess on our hands at this point!" The scolding voice of either a mother or a devoted teacher rang across the entire room, causing a noticeable jerk in the visible legs that descended from beneath the leaning tower of novellas. A young woman, nigh the epitome of a librarian by her simple clothes, stood with her hands on her hips as she spoke to the now visible young man behind his burden of literature. Her violet eyes seemed to send out telekinetic messages of 'don't you dare fall' from behind her studious glare out to the books her assistant carried. "I swear, I am never letting Miss Cheerilee ever bring those rambunctious children in here again, I don't care what hind of field trip they were taking", Twilight sighed as she buried her face into her palms.
One look around the library seemed to speak the exact words Twilight had previously spoken, "rambunctious children." Books were literally everywhere, scattered across the floor, completely out of order on the shelves they had once called their tranquil home, some going as far to have made their way beneath the cushions of a leather couch that leaned against the west wall of the main room.
"I know what you mean, Twilight", Spike sighed as he made his slow trudge to a vacant shelf to set his burden on. His feet deftly navigated over the battlefield of tomes that lay beneath him as he continued in the shared complaints of his guardian, "I know I was never like that when I was their age. Just look at how I was back in Canterlot, I was barely even five years old and-"
Spike was abruptly cut off as his foot clashed with a conniving and slid across it's velvet cover resulting in a short cry of surprise to emanate from his throat before he fell backwards along with burden of knowledge in the physical form. He saw a shimmering white light through the outspread veil of books falling towards him before hitting the hardwood floor, the resulting sound his impact made along with the books falling to the ground sounded like an off-beat percussion cadence written solely for the bass drum. For a few seconds he once again resembled a pile of books that had grown legs, albeit disorganized and unmoving.
Twilight quickly rushed to what she interpreted as his side, screaming and tossing books left and right, "Spike?! Spike, are you okay?!"
His response came as a muffled grumble as he emerged much like a deity from beneath the avalanche he had collapsed beneath. He stood in torn jeans and a deep purple shirt that was far too large for his body, green hair hung in bedraggled points as it descend slightly past the borders of his shoulders. With face in palm he attempted at an apology before being cut off once again, "Twilight, I-"
"Do you see what happens when you don't watch where your going? Spike, I was so worried about you."
"Twilight", Spike deadpanned, "I had over twenty novels stacked over my line of vision. I was navigating the floor by foot alone."
Twilight scrutinized his appearance with the motherly stare she had perfected over years of living and working with Spike, focusing intently on anything that could have distracted him or caused his sudden descent to the floor. The cloud that was her conscious mind began taking shape into a checklist of Spike's liabilities for a fall. 'One', twilight thought to herself as her eyes diligently roamed across his body, 'his jeans are far too long for his legs and hang beneath his heels, tattered or not, they could cause him to fall.' Twilight gave a short nod as her first mental note was jotted down. Spike was opening his mouth to question her staring when Twilight quickly shushed him and began documenting other liabilities, 'Secondly, and conveniently the final problem, his hair. It hangs down in front of his eyes and obscures everything he sees, it has to go.'
She had been addressing Spike's hair for months, it was long and hung in front of everything in loose tangles, it was a wonder anyone could see Spike's face through it. He had denied getting a regular trim due to his views on looking "cool" or something. Twilight would have no more of it, that matted bird's nest was going to come off his head today.
"Spike, I've come to a conclusion of what made you fall."
"Twilight, I slipped on a-"
"And I've deduced the necessary precautions we need to take in order to prevent this from happening again."
"Twilight, really, I'm-"
"This will, of course, entail you getting a haircut. I'll allow you to wear those torn clothes you've grown so attached to so long as you roll up the legs to your ankles and wear a belt while working, however your hair must be cut into something manageable."
Spike stood aghast. Why would she want to cut his hair? It looked so cool in the wind, Spike had even seen girls start to give him second glance. Not that they mattered though, the only woman he would ever try to look good for was his crush, Rarity. "No way, Twilight!" He cried, moving back as he attempted to brush a few stray locks out of his line of vision, "I like my hair the way it is!"
Twilight took an aggressive step towards him, clearly in one of her trademark huffs, "Spike, you can't even keep it out of your eyes for one second! You never comb it and you look worse than Big Macintosh did after Applebloom tried to become a hairdresser!"
Spike shuddered as nightmare images rose up inside his mind, he remembered the tragic sight as if he had seen it yesterday. Big Macintosh's golden locks had been cut and cropped seemingly by an angry chicken wielding a pair of barber's clippers. He had walked into town to man the apple cart the afternoon after he had taken his nap, and his little sister had taken her opportunity, without knowing his head looked like that of a person who had survived a house fire. The moment he caught his reflection he (Big Macintosh of all people, the toughest man Spike had ever met in his entire life!) had run home with tears in his eyes and refused to come out of his room until his hair grew back. Spike's demeanor weakened and he dropped his hands to his sides where they found refuge in his pockets, letting his hair fall lazily around his head like a green rainstorm. "Do..." He trailed off a bit before speaking, "Do I really look that bad?"
'Yes!' Twilight had him, his defenses were down and he was open to a bit of verbal persuasion. all she had to do know was give him some motivation, something he could latch onto. In an instant the perfect thought came into her mind, "You know", she cooed, "I'm sure Rarity wouldn't mind giving you a new look." There was no real need to put the extra emphasis on the name, but a woman could give one-hundred and ten percent if she wanted to.
Spike visibly perked up at the slightest mention of Rarity, the idea of her giving him a haircut had obviously pulled the naive young man in, "You really think she would?" He asked with boyish excitement, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.
"Oh, I know she would, Spike", Twilight answered with a flourish. "And, who knows, maybe she would give you a hairstyle that she finds attractive."
The toothy grin that spread across Spike's face said everything, the deal was set and Twilight had come out victorious. She did a mental fist-pump at her victory over adolescent rebellion, a phase she never truly went through. She was about to continue when she heard a loud rumble accompanied by the steady beat of feet sprinting up wooden stairs. Twilight turned to face an even more decimated pile of books and marveled at the young man's speed, he could really book it when something he wanted was on the horizon. "I was gonna say get your shoes on", she muttered, "but I don't think there's any need."
As an amplified crescendo of Spike's returning charge came towards her she was only able to let out a distressed yelp as the world seemingly began to move beneath her. She felt a moving surface beneath her and felt what she quickly deduced was an arm around her waist, the moment she steadied her vision and received a literal face-full of her assistants backside she became aware of her situation.
Spike had picked her up.
Spike had picked her up and was now sprinting towards Carousel Boutique just to get a haircut from the woman of his dreams.
Twilight instantly began to reprimand herself mentally. 'Why hadn't I thought of this before?!'
Once she was set down, and once her vision had settled, her gaze was drawn to the entrance of Carousel Boutique. Standing in the doorway was a tall woman in a flowing white dress with pale skin and perfect curves, her hair hung in large purple curls to one side of her face, her expression speaking only of confusion. Twilight turned to Spike to see him silent and blushing, most likely realizing the implications that could be drawn from him carrying his caretaker in such a crude fashion halfway across town.
Twilight had some explaining to do.
"Hi, Rarity", she said, as calmly and collectively as she possibly could, "we were just coming over to talk to you when Spike got an idea that we could get here quicker if he were to carry me. Albeit he was correct, I apologize for what was probably a strange entrance." Explanation? Perfect, two points to Team Sparkle.
Rarity quickly composed herself, closing her slack jaw and finally beginning to speak, "Goodness", she sighed out, "and here I was thinking the two of you were doing something questionable or that you were hurt."
Spike jumped up at the odd phrase she had used for his entrance and quickly came to cover his mistakes. "It's nothing like that, Rarity!" He cried out, face flushing even further beneath the emerald tangles of his hair, "I just need a makeover is all!" He jumped once again at the phrase that had burst forth from his mouth, clasping his hands over the offending orifice as if attempting to press the words back inside. The moment his eyes returned to meet Rarity's he knew he should have kept his mouth shut. There was an excited grin rapidly spreading across her face added to the spark of a mad genius that began to flare in her eyes that caused a cold pit of fear mixed with anticipation to form in the pit of his stomach.
Rarity turned to Twilight who, remembering their first encounter together, cringed as if a bustier was being tightened to no end around her chest. "Twilight, dear", came Rarity's voice, smooth with determination, "I cannot tell you how thankful I am to tame this rat nest atop Spikey-Wikey's head."
"Hey", an adolescent voice rose slightly to remark about his obviously ratty hair.
"Nor", Rarity continued, "can I tell you exactly when this process will be complete. I urge you to go home and wait with baited breath to see the new Spike." With that Rarity turned to Spike and, quite literally, shoved him past the entrance of her shop.
The last thing Twilight saw before turning on her heels and heading back to the library was the door slamming and the sign that hung on the center window going from "open" to "closed", on the way home she muttered something that sounded like, "May Celestia have mercy on your poor soul, Spike."
Spike's senses did a quick double take as his location rapidly changed from standing on a porch to being seated in an elegant barber's chair as Rarity draped a covering sheet over his shoulders and chest. All of his internal questions and conflicts disappeared the moment Rarity's silken voice flowed through his ears.
"Well, Spike", she cooed as her hands lightly massaged his shoulders, "are you ready to begin?"
Spike could only manage a nod as his face burned a light crimson. In a matter of seconds he felt Rarity massaging his head with her slender, delicate fingers. Each touch seemed to be a different caress, each sending shocks of electricity directly into his mind. The sensations of it all made him dizzy and completely unaware of where he was until he picked up on a scent, it smelled of vanilla and something almost synthetic, he let out a curious noise that sounded more like a mumble than a moan.
Either knowing what the noise meant, or by simply reading his mind, Rarity responded with a cheery tone, "This oil, my dear Spikey-Wikey, will help me get all of these tangles out of your hair." Rarity leaned closer to Spike's head and draw her fingers through the long river of emerald that lay in her palms, lightly giving the back of Spike's neck a few scrapes with her manicured nails. She giggled a bit at how he jumped at her work before continuing, "Now, darling, I'm sure you would lovely with long hair, but you simply must comb it to look like the hero on the cover of a romance novel."
Spike could barely hear her past the haze that coated his mind. Rarity was touching him, cooing to him in that angelic voice of hers, and it all seemed to be out of her pleasure. It was almost too much for Spike to bear as he valiantly fought to control his own thoughts. 'A hero out of a romance novel, oh man, I think my plan to woo Rarity actually worked for once. Now she's doing all this stuff and I can barely hold on to-' His thoughts hit a complete standstill as he felt Rarity's presence draw somehow closer, bringing with it the feeling of a draft on the back of his head. 'Oh sweet Celestia is she-' He was cut off again as the sensation continued unabated, in rhythm to the gentle breathing he could hear over his light pants. 'Oh Goddess, she is. Rarity is, she's, she's smelling me.'
Spike's entire body jolted the moment Rarity began speaking in a near hypnotized voice, "I just love the scent of vanilla, I use it in everything, you know." Rarity took another drag of the young man's hair before speaking again, "I even use it in my perfume. Can you tell, Spikey-Wikey?" She asked as she reached around his head so he could smell the underside of her wrist.
It was too much, her chest was pressing into his back while her arms snaked around him, and he could smell the perfume. The scent of his favorite ice cream wafted out from his favorite woman to give him a full on slap to every one of his senses. To top it all off there was the nickname, that was his favorite, that lighthearted little name she had given him. Due to this overload he could only choke out one simple phrase of confirmation as his head nodded, "Uh-huh." It truly was far too much for the young man to handle.
Rarity smiled and drew back from Spike, not noticing the vast exhalation of pent up air that emanated from the young man, "I'm glad you like it, Spikey, now we can get to completely untangling this mop of yours." Before he could react to the knowledge that there was more aside from her seemingly omnipotent touch, a brush was pressed to his head. It slowly descended through his hair, scratching at his scalp and tugging at minor tangles in an oddly comforting way, as Rarity worked more of her magic.
Spike felt himself slipping back into his blissful haze when he was rocketed back into reality by a sharp burst pain erupting from his scalp. "Ow!" He cried out as Rarity tugged the brush through a more resilient tangle near his temple.
Rarity pulled the brush through the remaining lock gently as she apologized, "I'm truly sorry about that, dear. Are you alright?" She asked as she rubbed his temple with one hand while the other took to brushing his hair in search of any straggling knots.
Spike felt his blush returning as his temper quickly subsided, once again, he nodded in response.
"Good", Rarity chimed, "I can't have my precious, little Spikey-Wikey being hurt, now can I?" Rarity asked as she stepped in front of the young man. She noted how, when combed, his hair hung only a few inches above his waist, giving him a very feminine look. "Goodness, Spike, how long ago was your last haircut?"
Spike gave a quizzical look before he began counting out, "June, May, April", on his fingers. Once all ten were raised he looked up at Rarity with an embarrassed grin, "When was the last Grand galloping Gala again?" He asked, rather sheepishly.
That long, Rarity's jaw hung open once again, that long bordered on a crime against fashion. "Spike", her voice came flat and cold, much like a knife behind a shower curtain, "it has been nigh a year since your last trim and it is heavily noticeable, you are not allowed out of that chair until I am finished with my work. Do you understand?"
Spike was frozen in his seat, the look on Rarity's face had changed from an enthusiastic smile into an amplified version of Fluttershy's stare. It was if wires spread forth from her gaze and tied him to the seat he was in whether or not his consent was given, there was only one answer to the question that threatened to decide his fate. "Yes ma’am", Spike whispered with a tinge of fear.
Rarity stepped behind the chair and sought out the tools she would need for this task, she would make this young man presentable at the cost of Equestria's order. From a bejeweled case she drew a pair of scissors that glinted with a razor's edge and a comb made of pure ivory, sure it was illegal, but it was bought as an antique many years ago during her early teenage years. Without missing a single beat she set to lopping off all of Spike's hair that descended past his neck. The moment she heard him about to protest she snipped the scissors very loudly in the direct proximity of his ear, it will suffice to say that obedience was soon restored.
Rarity stepped in front of Spike and knelt down to face him on his level, it was truly important for her to convey this message as well as she possibly could. "Spike", she called, smiling gently as his eyes locked with hers from beneath his bangs, "what exactly would you like me to make you look like? You can pick any style you would like, Twilight never gave me any boundaries to abide by."
Spike turned his head to the side, blushing slightly as he spoke, "I'm not really all that sure, Rarity." He shrugged a bit and shyly glanced in her direction, "Whatever you think looks nice will be perfect."
Rarity stood in stock silence as she stared at the blushing young man before her, creative control, she was being given creative control over his entire appearance. Her hands drew forward and cupped his cheeks the way a master sculptor would as she stared at every detail she could see in her field of vision. Rarity started to draw her face closer to Spike's, thoughts that were borderline insane to her danced at the edges of her imagination. She stopped as they were barely an inch apart, thinking what exactly could happen if she were to go through the plan that was slowly manifesting into a desire.
Spike found himself frozen once again, this time out of pure shock rather than fear. Rarity was mere millimeters away from him and he couldn't break the eye contact that he had become locked in. The heat in his cheeks rose further and further the moment he noticed he could smell her perfume again, along with the residual mint fragrance of her toothpaste. "Rarity", he tried to speak, but was quickly silenced by a light tap from her finger. She started drawing her hands up slowly, pulling his chin up slightly as her eyes seemed to close just the tiniest bit.
"It's almost criminal", Rarity muttered, "I can't believe I'm going to try this." Her voice came with a curious inflection that made Spike shudder and clamp his eyes shut.
'Oh man, what is she doing? She can't be planning to do that can she? Can she?! But that would mean she knows about my crush and that means she feels- ow! Hey, what the, why is she pulling on my hair?' Spike opened his clenched eyes to see a sight that could have stopped his heart then and there. Rarity's chest, "Rarity's perfect chest that could put any other woman to shame was right in front of him. This, truly, was too much, Spike's brain fried and he became a blank slate.
Rarity stood over him with all of his hair pulled vertically up into the center of his scalp, smiling like a lottery winner, "Spike, I have the perfect idea!" She let go of his hair, letting it drop around his head once more, and continued with her speech, "I know many would say it looks criminal, but for you it is simply perfect! A mohawk, can you believe it? I was thinking about three inches tall and around two inches wide, look at me, Spike, I'm like a giddy schoolgirl excited about an art project!" She turned to face him with an indomitable grin, "Are you okay with that style, Spike?"
Spike just nodded and flatly said, "Okay."
He was aware of the question, however he would've said the same thing if Rarity had gone so far as to say something along the lines of, "Spike, I am going to screw your head open like a mayonnaise jar and feed you brain to my cat and you will agree to this, understand?"
Spike gradually came to as Rarity commenced her process of finally giving him the new hairstyle that he so desperately needed. Rather than waste time with simple scissors Rarity had simply buzzed everything but the strip that would be kept at length down to a half inch tall field of green hair. Once she had removed the sheet and dusted off his shoulders, Spike jumped up to face the mirror with a mixed look of shock and happiness on his face, "Rarity", he gawked, "it looks good!" His smile dropped a bit and his face lost a little color at his next realization, "Twilight is going to kill me."
Rarity chuckled a bit and slid her arm across his shoulders, admiring the way they looked standing next to one another. 'Well, Rarity', she thought to herself, 'here's your opportunity.' She studied the reflection a bit more and hatched a quick plan. "Spike, a handsome young man like yourself should wear clothing that suits him, not these rags that you've so carelessly tossed over your body", she lectured, turning around to hide a light blush from him. "In a the next room you will find a black bag that holds a gift I have been saving for a special occasion, I want you to abandon those tattered bits of cloth and put what you find in the bag on." Without letting him agree or disagree, or even ask a question for that matter, Rarity led Spike by the shoulders into the next room and closed the door on him.
Once the door had been sealed she listened as the sound of crumpling paper came to her ears. Rarity smiled gently the moment she heard Spike's astonished voice.
"Rarity, this is-"
"Hush, Spike, I made it myself. It is to be worn only by you, now I need you to calmly listen to every word I say." The silence behind the door stood to be her only reply, "I'll take that as a yes, darling." Rarity sighed a bit before continuing, "Spike, I've known about your", she paused, "infatuation with me since soon after it began. When you were young I brushed it aside as the crush a young boy would develop on any woman whom he saw to be beautiful, but as you grew up it stayed with you and I started to notice it a bit more. Gradually it began to affect me in ways I didn't think were possible. Spike, you are more of a gentleman than any cocky young idiot or royal jerk that has ever tried to court me, to be honest it still baffles me that you held on to your feelings for so long after I brushed you away so many times. Just a few months ago I found myself succumbing to your charms, however." She paused again, biting her lip, "Spike, I try not to focus entirely on aesthetics, but your bedraggled appearance was a bit of a turn off to me. You coming over here today to let me give you this makeover gave me the chance to polish away the one noticeable fault on you and turn you into what I can see as the perfect man."
Rarity turned as she heard the door open to reveal Spike, standing in a charcoal suit with an amethyst colored tie. The tears that threatened to come spilling out of his eyes caused her to stand up with a gasp. She was ready to start apologizing furiously for her behavior when Spike pulled her into an gentle embrace. "Rarity", he said as he buried his face into her shoulder, "I've been in love with you from the first time I saw you. It was never a crush", he pulled back to meet her gaze with a smile on his face, "because I really do love you, Rarity."
Her face went from a state of awe to a teary smile that threatened to break out into a full on torrent of tears. Rarity cured this by pressing her cheek down onto Spike's, smiling the same smile he had across his face. She pulled herself tighter into Spike's body, relishing as he pulled her closer as well, wanting to stay this close with him as long as she could. Rarity looked out the window to see the sun setting into a deep dusk. 'It took me that long? Well no matter, this is better anyway.' She pulled back and spoke with a voice like silk, "Well, Spike, here you are with your arms wrapped around a beautiful woman wearing an elegant dress, am I wrong in assuming that you should be leading me out to a restaurant?"
Spike broke out into a bigger smile and turned towards the door, one arm around Rarity's waist as he led her towards the door of the boutique. Rarity giggled like a schoolgirl and tossed her arm around Spike's shoulder, she closed the door behind her and the two walked out into the center of town in search of the location of their first date.
If the domino effect had in fact led to this event, which will undoubtedly lead to many others as all first dates do, one question is left to be answered. Did the first domino fall along with a book, or did it fall many years in the past as a spark of love began? Or, for what it's worth, could these things have happened naturally? The only truth that can be found is that one thing will always lead to another.
