Another Wedding! Extra Sprinkles!
by GreyCapstan
Twilight Sparkle continued to run around the second floor of the library, gathering supplies into her saddlebags.
“Sorry I have to head out in such a hurry,” she said, floating a whistle into the cache forming at her sides, “but I didn’t know Princess Celestia would be visiting so soon!” A set of paintbrushes magically joined the collection. “And we’re so unprepared! The bridge is out, the main road needs to be resurfaced and who knows how long it’s been since Rainbow Dash cleared the clouds!”
“Uh-huh.” Spike sat on a stack of encyclopedias in front of the writing desk, which he had repurposed as his comic-book reading area. He flipped another page, revealing sixteen more panels in the wild cosmic adventures of Splash Galloway. He made no attempt to look at Twilight or her expeditious scavenger hunt.
Twilight turned her attention to her dragon assistant. “We’re all going to be out there for a while; it might even be all day. I hope you’ll be alright here by yourself with nothing to do.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Spike waved his claw back at her. Splash was right about to commandeer the laser-equipped destruct-o-cart of an invading Glorpigan mongrel.
“Are you sure you’ve got lunch covered? I know I haven’t exactly been able to get to the market in a while.”
The dragon twisted himself and the top book of the stack around to face Twilight. “No problem at all.” He hopped off and walked over to the nook by the stairs leading to their sleeping quarters, where a stack of short, rectangular boxes stood. “Not as long as I’ve got these babies.” He closed his eyes and gave the pile a gentle pat, quickly pulling away after discovering his claw landed on a grease spot.
“You mean those donuts you got in Canterlot a week ago?” She walked over to the sky-blue cardboard tower that had comprised his diet as of recent. “Sorry to burst your bubble, Spike, but I think these are finally past their prime. I told you you shouldn’t have bought so many.”
“Aw, c’mon, Twilight; they’re still good.”
With a flick of her fetlock, she popped the lid off of the top box and tapped one of the pastries with her hoof, producing solid thuds. “I don’t think they are.”
“Nonsense.” He quickly swiped a plate from the hutch and placed half a dozen chocolate-glazed donuts on it. Setting it down on a nearby end-table, he took five steps back, filled his chest with air and spewed a beam of green flames toward it. When he ran back to them, thin wisps of steam made their way from the fried goods to the ceiling. He tilted the plate up for Twilight to observe. “See? Hot and fresh!”
She stopped halfway through her sigh and yawed her head towards the window. “I don’t have time to chide you on your eating habits right now. Remind me to do it when I get back.” She galloped down the staircase to the main room of the library. “Be back in a bit, Spike! Don’t get into any trouble!” Her shouts reverberated up to Spike’s location as she closed the door behind her.
“Hmph.” It was like Twilight didn’t trust him. He was a good dragon; he never got himself into any situation that couldn’t be fixed in under an hour or two. He put the social injustice aside in his mind and brought his frosted lunch with him to the table. There were more pressing matters at hand, such as how Splash Galloway was going to save Equestria from the evil Baron Xandch’lopil when his horn was cursed from the poison joke that had been slipped into his water supply by rebellious space pirates on the planet Ergot.
However, even something as pressing as the fate of Equestria was soon dismissed when the artery-clogging aroma of the sweetened rings entered the dragon’s nostrils. Deciding that now was as good a time for a reading break as any, he picked up one of the halo-shaped confections and slowly clamped his teeth down into it. He intended to savor every last morsel.
It was every bit as divine as the previous three baker’s dozens he had. Maybe a little stale, he admitted, but he was in no position to complain in the presence of gustatious beauty. The ganache was bold, but not bitter. The dough on the outside was flaky, but not crumbly. The inside was tender, but not spongy. The spectrum of sprinkles melted across his reptilian tongue, a series of tiny, sugary explosions, like a string of firecrackers going off on the eve of the Summer Sun Celebration.
How did Donut Joe do it? Spike would’ve been the happiest dragon in the world if he could just figure out the amber unicorn’s secret. It wasn’t just Spike’s preference for the dessert, either. He had tried many places in Canterlot, and even Sugarcube Corner, but their donuts were just not the same; they were either too soggy or too tough or too messy. But Donut Joe’s, the little shop right outside the royal castle walls, had the basic breakfast bread down to an art. Joe was a true master. The Maestro of Icing. The General of Jelly. The Lord of Lard.
In fact, the only thing Spike truly missed about living in Canterlot was having instant access to quality donuts. He was never a fan of the snooty high-class ponies or the carriage traffic in the afternoons or how much a spine massage cost, but he really enjoyed being able to sneak away from Twilight while she was totally engrossed in some dusty old tome and stepping into Joe’s shop with a small sack of coins and his favorite mug. In Ponyville, his only options were either to go without, settle for the substandard (with internal apologies to the Cakes), or buy as many as he can whenever he got to go to Canterlot. The stockpile sitting behind him came from such a visit. The trip was an unexpected one, but luckily he had been saving the allowance given to him by Twilight for months.
His saccharine euphoria was finally brought to a halt when he heard the staccato sound of hoof meeting door downstairs. He placed the remaining third of the donut on the plate and wiped his claws along the side of his body, peering over at the comic book.
“Wait up for me, Splash.” He leapt off of his perch with the dish and walked down into the public area of the library. After he set the plate on the central reading table, he opened the door and began to recite the standard greeting.
“Hello, and welcome to the... oh! Hey, Snips! Hey, Snails!”
“Hey, Spike!” The two foals greeted him in unison.
“What are you two up to?”
“We’re bored,” said Snails, dropping his head slightly in exasperation.
“All the adults are cleanin’ up town, and they said we’re not allowed to help,” added his annoyed blue accomplice.
“Yeah.” Spike was a member of the same club. His first Winter Wrap-Up became his last after his joke-cracking and bout with pneumonia were deemed “counterproductive” by Twilight. “Well, you’re always welcome here.” He moved out of the doorway and followed the current of steam back to the table.
“Thanks, Spike!” The duo ran inside, following Spike’s lead and not bothering to close the door behind them. The library was now being subjected to the light breezes of late summer and the distant sounds of power tools.
Spike hadn’t noticed; he was already heading back on the epic journey of flavor that was donuts. As the dragon popped the last bit of the fricasseed ecstasy into his mouth, he became aware of the lack of giggling and falling books that he would have expected from the two by now. He cautiously opened his right eye, tip of his outstretched thumb still in his mouth.
The two ponies were ogling the O’s sitting before them. Their tongues laid loose against their chins to provide an outlet for the sudden influx of drool. Despite being inches from deliciousness, they stood entirely still, like dogs waiting for a bell to ring.
Spike looked over at the plate. For just that brief flash, that split-second, his brain entertained the selfish impulse of telling them to buzz off and get their own donuts. However, his conscious mind knew better than that. It wouldn’t be nice. Plus, he knew what little good being greedy did for him, and for Ponyville in general. He picked up the plate and motioned it towards them. “You guys want a donut?”
“Yeahyeahyeahyeahyeah!” Snips nodded his head rapidly, looking about ready to launch through the ceiling of the library like a bottle rocket.
“Yes, please!” Snails did two laps around his lips with his tongue.
The chocolate glaze of the donuts reflected the soft glows of their unicorn horns before two of them were wrapped in the light completely, one in a pale turquoise and the other in a golden yellow. Snails floated his straight to his mouth and took his first hasty bite. Snips floated his to about three inches from his face, where his magic gave out, leaving him to lean forward and eat it off of the floor as he gave Snails the stink-eye.
With their dinners thoroughly spoiled, Spike got up, closed the door and turned to face the others. “Well, there’s plenty of books to choose from.” He lifted up his claw in the direction of the plenty of books. “Except for the newest Splash Galloway; someone’s already checked it out.”
Waiting for them to finally start running for the shelves, he was instead met with a brief pause, followed by a shared laugh.
“Good one, Spike!”
“You know why we’re here.”
Spike stared at the two blankly, trying to go back through time in his head. “Do I owe you guys money?”
The blue foal’s aggravation from earlier returned. “C’mon, Spike; quit messin’ around!”
“Yeah; we wanna hear about the wedding!”
“Oh.” The purple dragon made his way back to the table, feeling the weight of non-existent debt being lifted. He sat down on the stool next to his plate. “Eh. It was alright.”
“‘Alright’? It had to’ve been more than ‘alright’!”
“What about the princess?” Snails asked.
“And the changelings?” Snips wavered his voice at the last word and waved his forehooves around mysteriously.
“And the bachelor party?” The yellow foal nudged the librarian with his foreknee and giggled.
Spike flatly counted off with his fingers. “She’s nice. Hid in a closet. Shining was too tired.”
“I don’t get it,” Snips said, tilting his head. “Everypony in town won’t stop talkin’ about the wedding, and you don’t wanna talk about it at all! What gives?” Snails nodded in approval.
“Well, to be honest with you two...” The spined storyteller straightened himself up in his seat. “I don’t really get what the big deal is with this whole wedding thing. I mean, isn’t marriage just when two ponies decide that they’re gonna live with each other for the rest of their lives? Why have a big celebration over a housing arrangement?”
“Hold on, Spike,” Snips cut into Spike’s rant. “I thought ponies got married ‘cause they love each other and all that junk.”
“Yeah; what about Princess Cadenza and Shining Whatshisname?”
“I dunno about that. I looked up ‘marry’ in the dictionary,” he blushed just the tiniest bit at having to admit to two colts that he had to rely on a book for information, “and it it said that ‘marry’ means ‘to bring together’. It didn’t say anything about love. Besides, I thought Princess Cadance and Shining Armor wanted to live together because they loved each other, not the other way around.”
Snips was content with the dragon’s philosophy, but Snails was more content with arguing. “See, Snips? I told you that marriage wasn’t about love!”
“What?! Up until now you were agreein’ with me!”
“Was not!”
“Was too!”
“Prove it!”
Spike stifled a yawn. Fights were not very fun to watch when they were with words; living with Twilight made words a chore to him. He imagined how much cooler the two ponies’ dispute would have been if they were wielding dual plasma cannons.
“It doesn’t really matter, guys. Let’s talk about something else.” He didn’t hate the wedding or hate being there (how else would he have gotten his stash?), but having to describe every last detail of it to every single sentient being who crossed his path in town started to impact his memory of it negatively, like passing a photograph around a thousand times until it becomes all worn out and torn at the edges.
When the two stopped quibbling and recentered their attention on him, elation welled up inside him. Finally, he would be able to talk to somepony about something other than the darn wedding.
“Who would you marry, Spike?” Snips leaned in as he asked the question.
Spike rolled his eyes and limply batted his claw. “Please. That’s foal’s stuff.” He closed his eyes and put his thumb to his chest. “Us grown-ups have better things to do than make schoolyard gossip.”
“Just answer the question, will ya?” Snips furrowed his brow.
“Alright, alright.” The dragon turned his head away from the ponies to think of an answer. As he did so, coming into his vision were his sweet-bread beauties.
But they were not so beautiful anymore.
The steam, having grown impatient of Spike’s lack of devotion, had left, moving on to circulate through the rest of the Equestrian atmosphere and drive the noses of other ponies wild. What he had now were cold donuts. Cold, tough, stale, useless donuts. And they could not be reheated a second time; his last attempt turned the chocolate into charcoal.
Welling from the depths of his heart and quickly spreading to the pit of his stomach were crushing waves of sadness. How could he have been so careless? He knew, deep in the recesses of his scholarly psyche, that he had truly let Donut Joe down. Donut Joe... Donut Joe! Of course!
He turned to face them again. “I would marry Donut Joe,” he said, proudly. The waves of sadness receded, having washed his enthusiasm for the subject onto shore. “He made those super-delicious donuts you guys ate earlier. He’s the best baker in all of Equestria; even better than the Cakes!”
The foals shared a wide-eyed, “Wooooooooow.”
Spike’s voice became slow and dreamy. “If I lived with him, I could have all the donuts I want, when I want. Glazed, powdered, jelly-filled, crumb...” Spike had to stop his thought to swallow the excess saliva forming in his mouth. He stared through the ceiling of the library, through the Equestrian sky, at a giant plate of donuts hovering in space.
“Sounds like a great guy,” said Snails.
“That’s not even the half of it.” The dragon had his claws behind his head, leaned back against the table. “He’s really nice, he’s always got something to talk about and he knows so many good jokes. He would be great to have as a housemate!” Spike’s voice lowered to a mumble. “He’s probably already married, though. Nopony could pass him up.”
“Well, why don’tcha ask him?”
Spike bent forward to look at Snips. “Huh?”
“Ask him if he’s married,” said the scissor-flanked foal. Advice was one of Ponyville’s biggest exports, and he felt a subtle glow of pride from being on the giving end for once. “You never know unless ya ask. And, if he isn’t, you could propose to him right there! You know, get all the boring stuff out of the way.”
“I dunno...”
Snails joined in. “I once heard Rainbow Dash talking about marriage, and she said that, if you wait too long, all the good ones will either be taken or Braeburn, whatever that is.”
Spike sat fully up. “Well, you know I would, but he lives in Canterlot, and I gotta stay here and watch the library while Twilight’s gone.”
Snips lowered his eyebrows, raised the corners of his mouth and turned to look at his friend. “You know what, Snails?”
“What is it, Snips?”
“I think Spike is chicken!”
Snails chuckled and formed his own version of a grin. “I gotta agree with you there, buddy.” He chuckled again.
“I’m not chicken!” the purple reptile retorted. “I just have responsibilities, unlike you two!”
“Chiiiiiiiiikennnnn!” Snips taunted in sing-song, before sitting on his haunches and bending his forelegs into stubby wings. “Bawwwwk bawkbawkbawkbawkbawk!”
Snails joined in on the teasing. “Yeah! Gobble gobble!”
While Spike may have identified himself more as a pony, dragon blood still circulated within him.
And you never, ever call a dragon chicken.
He threw his arms up into the air, pushing a cloud of annoyed smoke through his nostrils. “Okay! Fine! I’ll ask him to marry me! Sheesh!” He sprung off the stool and walked over to a shelf on his right. “I just gotta let Twilight know where I’m going.”
“Alright, Spike!” Snails was giddy with excitement.
“I can already hear those wedding bells ringin’,” added Snips.
“No bells.” The dragon grabbed a parchment and a quill. “I don’t want a big ceremony. A small gathering of our friends and family is fine.”
“Well, you’re still gonna have a bachelor party, aren’tcha?”
“We can help you out in that department,” Snails offered, giving a second nudge to the air.
Spike returned to the table and began to scratch out his note. “Thanks, but I don’t see the point. Somepony told me that a bachelor party is where the bachelor is surrounded by mares, but, normally, I’m surrounded by mares all the time.” He stopped and glanced over at them. “Twilight, Pinkie Pie, Applejack... I live a bachelor party, pretty much.”
“Awwww, you’re no fun, Spike,” responded the yellow pony, crestfallen.
“What can I say?” Spike returned to the parchment as he practiced his best “mature” voice on them. “I’m a dragon with simple tastes. You learn to appreciate the simple things when you’re forced to live in a library.”
The short, blue foal tilted his head again. “If you’re gonna live with Donut Joe in Canterlot, how are you gonna be Twilight’s assistant?”
The feather in Spike’s claw froze, only to reanimate a moment later. “Easy. I’ll just get up earlier in the morning and cartpool to work.”
“What about Rarity?” asked Snails. The dragon's deepest, most private crush was no secret to him; he and Snips were among the three hundred or so ponies he had divulged it to.
“Oh, shoot!” Spike broke out of his Twilight impression and put the non-writing end of the quill to his chin. “Well, I, uh...” He resisted the urge to laugh from the ticklishness of the feather. “I’ll ask her to marry me, too! Yeah! Then, I could switch between living in Canterlot and Ponyville, and I’d save on travel expenses!” He tapped the end of the utensil against the side of his head smugly. “Always thinking.”
Finally returning it to the paper, he scraped up the remainder of his message. “Aaaand done! C’mon, guys; let’s go.” As Spike got to the ground and went for the door, Snips and Snails peered over the parchment to see what he had written:
Twilight,
Asked away on royal business by Princess Luna again. Sounds urgent, might have something to do with Celestia’s visit. Will be back as soon as I can.
Spike
P.S. If I don’t get back in time for dinner, you can have one of my donuts. ONE.
For a pony that has never seen Canterlot before, it could be quite blinding. The ivory buildings, the polished gold accents of the doors and windows and the glittering gems that adorned any mare that wished to be seen in public fused together with the brightness of Celestia’s sun, forming a slurry of light that took several minutes to get adjusted to.
“Here we are, guys! Canterlot!” Spike waved his arm around at the spanse of the royal domain, proudly marching down the marble thoroughfare.
Snips followed closely behind. Too closely, in fact; he constantly bumped into the dragon’s tail and the hooves of pompous passers-by. It didn’t help that one of his forelegs was shielding his eyes from the reflected light. “I bet it looks great.”
“It sure does!” Snails cruised casually beside him, wearing what may or may not have been Rainbow Dash’s sunglasses that she left at the cafe the week before.
Spike cleared his throat and gave his “mature” voice another go. “So, how does it feel to be amongst the upper crust, Ponyvillians?”
“We totally wouldn’t fit in around here,” said Snips, squinting his way through the crowd.
“Yeah. Our moms usually cut the crusts off our sandwiches.”
Spike’s face remained firmly in his claw for the next block.
Just past the metropolitan, overlooking the stockade of the Equestrian Royal Castle, Spike tenuously trembled beneath the donut-shaped wooden sign that hung off of the onionic roof of Donut Joe’s Donutopia.
“Well... here we are.” The valiance in his voice had spilled onto the road along the way, the seriousness of his task sinking in. He was about to ask somepony to make a life-changing decision for him. Was he really worth that much to anypony? Would Donut Joe really want to spend the rest of his dessert-centric life with boring old Spike the Dragon?
The dragon’s self-defeat was knocked out of his head by a solid, blue-hooved shove towards the door.
“Well, are ya ready to go, Spike?”
Spike turned to the foals. “Oh, uh, you know me. Always ready to go.” The extra wideness of his smile would have given its fakeness away to most ponies.
“We’re rootin’ for ya, buddy!” Snails lifted his foreleg and swung it in an arc pattern. “Knock ‘em dead!”
“Snails!” Snips shot an icy glance at his friend. “Why would you say somethin’ like that?”
“Well, Sweetie Belle told me that it’s bad luck to say something good, so you gotta say something bad to give someone good luck.”
“Oh. Well, in that case,” Snips turned back to Spike, “get in there and murder him!”
“Bludgeon him to death!”
“Make him suffer!”
Spike’s grin shrunk into something more authentic. “Thanks, guys.”
As he swung open the glass double-doors, his mission was immediately swept off into the winds of decadence. Wisps of fried bread flew out of the kitchen, as if they had waited for his arrival like anticipative children. Without an air of tact, their tendrils danced around him, flushing out the worries from his brain to make room for themselves. Memories, thoughts, feelings, names faded, as Spike’s head was filled with donuts.
Out of a sort of cosmic outrage towards the display, the bell above the door shouted for mediation. And heeding the call was the shop’s hefty, tan kitchenhoof, who peered out the doorway and smiled.
“Well, if it ain’t Spike the Dragon! Wasn’t expectin’ ya so soon!”
Spike’s eyes conked wide open as the worries fought their way back through the deep-fried fog. “Oh! I uh, uh... Hey, Joe!” He stumbled over to the lone stool in front of the counter, diverting any semblance of eye contact.
“What’ll it be, bud? Another gross of the chocolate-glazed?”
“N-no.” Spike used one claw to hide the heat escaping from his cheeks and the other to place his blue speckled mug on the counter. “Just a cup of your house blend, to start.”
Joe slid the ceramic off of the counter and brought it over to one of several chrome-plated machines across from the donut display racks. Easing it beneath a small, curved spout, he pulled the lever. The device roared, shook and sputtered, before finally producing into the air a cloud of steam and into the cup a perfect serving size of hot cocoa. He waved away the excess steam and moved the mug to the right, beneath a small chute on the same machine. With a nudge of the chute fell a perfectly cylindrical marshmallow into the brew. A clink on the counter and a swift slide brought the beverage to the dragon.
“Thanks.” Spike looked idly at the cracks of checkerboard tile he could see between his toe-claws, arms crossed and resting on the counter. “So, uh...” He gulped down what little resolve he had left. “Crazy stuff with that wedding, huh?”
“No kiddin’.” Joe’s horn shot to life as he wafted a coffee pot over to his own mug and tilted several swallows’ worth into it. “For a little while, there, I thought I was a goner for sure.”
The cup of cocoa faded into obscurity as Spike twiddled his thumbs. “Well, it’s got me wondering...” He peered up at the pony’s gentle expression. “Are you married?”
Joe blew the warmth from the top of his dark roast. “Nah. Haven’t found the right pony, y’know?”
“Yeah.” Spike gulped again and looked back at the door. Snails pumped his hoof in the air, mouthing “You can do it!”, while Snips danced the cabbage patch. He slowly turned back to Joe. “Well...” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Have you considered that... that maybe who you’re looking for isn’t a pony?”
“What do you mean?” Joe magicked the cup to his lips and took his first sip.
“Would... would you marry me?”
Coffee splurged out of the baker’s mouth and he coughed up what had made its way down his throat. “I’m sorry; what was that?”
Having gone too far to turn back now, Spike reached over to his right and picked up the blue cardboard box that he placed on floor next to his stool. He showed it to Joe and opened the lid, revealing a single donut in the center. “Would you marry me?”
Donut Joe stared at the box, and then at Spike, and then at the box again, mouth partially ajar. After a few seconds, a nervous chuckle finally made its way out of him.
“Uh, Spike...” Another chuckle escaped. “I dunno if you’re aware of this, but, uh...” He looked around the empty establishment and then at Spike. Finally, he leaned in and softly laid his forehooves on the dragon’s claws. “You don’t know how happy this makes me.”
Spike’s eyes and smile both dilated. “Really?”
Joe nodded quietly, placing one hoof tenderly on the dragon’s shoulder. “Spike, for all the years we’ve known each other, we’ve gotten along so well. I’m just...” Tiny blue waves rose from the bottoms of his eyes. “I’m so happy that you realize this chemistry we’ve got between each other.”
Spike nodded.
“This care and respect that we’ve got for each other.”
Spike nodded again. He could already feel the powdered sugar and raspberry jam coating the roof of his mouth.
Joe motioned his other hoof towards his chest. “This primal love that we’ve always felt in our hearts.”
Spike raised his head to begin a third nod, until the word conked into his brain. “What? Love?! Hold on, Joe; I don’t—” He was silenced by a light pressing of a hoof on his mouth.
Joe shook his head. “You don’t hafta say it, chum. I know what you’re gonna say.” He removed the hoof. “And I love you, too. I always have. But, I never knew how to say it. I guess I don’t need to, now. Funny how that works, huh? We always know what the other’s thinkin’. That’s why we’re so perfect for each other! You’re the cruller to my coffee!”
Spike’s mouth wildly formed silent words, trying to find one to give in response.
“Oh, just kiss me, ya fool!”
Joe dove in, wrapped his arms around Spike’s spines and gave him the deepest, most passionate kiss he could muster.
Spike flailed his arms around, trying to push the pony off of him without scratching him with his claws. However, the small dragon was no match for the sturdy stallion’s love grip, only managing to knock his paper hat off onto the floor without acknowledgment.
When the kiss finally broke, Spike saw his opportunity to backpedal. “Wait, Joe! I change my mind! I don’t want to get married!”
“Nuh-uh!” The baker lifted the reptile off the stool and hoisted him over his back. “You’re not gettin’ cold feet on me, pal! We gotta go make arrangements! I was always told I’d look nice in a tux.”
With the dragon in hoof, Donut Joe ran out of the shop and towards the center of Canterlot with hearts in his eyes.
Spike desperately wriggled around in an attempt to break free, but Joe’s foreleg pressing into his back made it an impossibility. He looked over at the door, where the foals were still standing.
“Snips! Snails!” He waved his arms about rapidly.
Snips and Snails waved back.
“Bye, Spike!”
“See ya at the reception!”
The two watched in awe as the duo rode off into the sunset, whinnying and screaming as they went.
Once they vanished against the horizon, Snails stopped waving and turned to Snips.
“Snips?”
“Yeah, Snails?”
“How are we gonna get home? Spike has our tickets.”
“Home? Why would you wanna go home, when we got,” he grabbed Snails’ leg and turned him around, “this?” He swept his arm at the grand spectacle that was Donut Joe’s Donutopia. All full of donuts. All unbelievably delicious. And all left completely unattended.
The two foals giggled as they ran inside, closing and locking the doors behind them.
