Six ponies sat and stood around the newly planted sapling. It was small, a tiny cutting of the tall and grand tree that used to stand in its spot before. A sign stood off to the side proudly stating, “Future Site Of Shining Oaks.”
Twilight sat closest to the sapling, her head bowed over it and a hoof pinning a letter marked with Princess Celestia’s seal on the bottom. She sobbed, her shoulders shuddering with each sharp breath inward, Fluttershy off to her left rubbing a hoof up and down her back. She took in a long, deep breath and barely steadied herself. Turning to the other ponies around her, despite her sobs, the tear stained fur and puffy eyes, Twilight smiled. “Thank you girls,” she said, her voice hoarse, “This means so much to me.”
“It weren’t nothing,” said Applejack from behind her.
Twilight let out a short little laugh. “Don’t be so humble, AJ. It’s a lot more than nothing. You all did so much.”
“Not to continue the trend of humility, but I suppose we should at least admit one thing,” said Rarity as she sat down beside Twilight. “We all contributed in one way or another—Applejack knows her trees and carpentry for example—but it was mostly Pinkie Pie’s idea.”
Twilight blinked, and looked over her shoulder at the bouncing mare. Since she was woken up in her new castle quarters, Twilight had noticed the excitement seemingly ebb from Pinkie, though she still hopped up slightly on her hooves. She beamed at Twilight, and Twilight smiled back.
“I’m surprised it wasn’t a party,” Twilight said with another weak laugh.
“There is a party later,” Pinkie admitted, “but while parties are great for any occasion, even for being made temporarily homeless for a short while but then kicking the guy who did its butt and getting a fancier magical home, buuut—” Pinkie sharply inhaled, then let out the breath slowly. “I thought something quiet would be better this time.”
Twilight’s eyes welling up again, and her shoulders shook with another stifled sob. She silently stood up, walking over to Pinkie Pie, then wrapped a leg around Pinkie’s neck and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you, Pinkie.”
Pinkie was, to her own surprise, at a complete loss for words. Her grin had vanished for a moment as she stared into Twilight’s eyes, and felt the gaze of all her other friends on her now burning cheeks. Swallowing, she put the trained imaginary hooks into the corners of her mouth and eyes and smiled again.
“It was nothing,” Pinkie said at last, her voice barely above a whisper.
Later, Pinkie lay in her bed, looking out the window. She was used to sleepless nights. She had so much energy and so many ideas and sometimes even without either her brain just wouldn’t shut up. Tonight was one of those nights, but instead of her mind racing through a million thoughts a minute, it lingered on just one single moment, one single feeling she was struggling to parse.
She rolled onto her back, and pressed a hoof to her cheek. The event, seemingly a whole lifetime but only lasting a few seconds, replayed in her head. The way Twilight approached, the apprehension that flooded Pinkie’s legs and gut, the fur standing on end up and down Pinkie’s back. The scent of a stressed pony, but one that was also happy, mixed with the subtle, flowery scent of what Pinkie presumed was Twilight’s preferred shampoo. She made a note to get Twilight new toiletries. They were probably all blown up.
That was a strange feeling. Pinkie forgot to buy herself toothpaste often enough, and mostly smelled of the bakery. The idea that she wanted to do more for a pony than celebrate or plain have fun was new.
She liked it, and was terrified by it.
Pinkie sighed and rolled out of bed. From where she stood, she was eye level with Gummy, who sat on her bedside table.
“Gummy, do you ever get the feeling you might wanna be more than just friends with somepony?” Pinkie asked the baby alligator.
Gummy stared back with one eye, the other cocked toward the ceiling.
“Yeah, I know it’s silly,” Pinkie said. “She’s one of my bestest, closest friends and I love her lots just like the rest of my friends.”
Gummy continued to stare, his mouth opening slowly.
“Well, yeah, it’s completely normal for mares to kiss each other,” Pinkie continued, turning around to pace around her bed. “Rarity does it all the time, both to her friends and family and ponies she doesn’t know. She did it to say hello to me last night.”
Gummy’s tongue leapt out, smacking the eye pointed in Pinkie’s direction. As it dragged down, the eye rotated down with it.
Pinkie hopped up onto her bed. “I’ve even kissed other mares! Maud and Marble and Rarity and Cadance and—” Pinkie stopped, looked over to Gummy again, and tilted her head. “Those were all on the cheek too, so why did Twilight’s feel all tingly and sparkly and breath-stealy and mind-tickly?” She brought a hoof up to her cheek again, only to bring it away and stare at it with her big, blue eyes.
She ran the events back over in her head. The approach, the scents, the leg over her neck. She was surprised she then imagined Twilight turning Pinkie’s head and planting that same, quick, chaste kiss on Pinkie’s lips.
Pinkie’s heart skipped a beat, and her breath fled her chest. She fell to her haunches, then slumped over forward, sprawling out across her bed. “Oh no,” she said flatly.
Twilight’s new castle was a confusing labyrinth of corridors and rooms that Pinkie didn’t have time to become totally familiar with. She knew enough to turn some of the chambers into places to chill out or eat cake or dance, but she made sure to keep most of the guests in the main hall. Banners and streams sat high above everyone, with tables of food and party favours and chairs all over. A large section in the middle was devoted to a dance space and a stage.
And off to one side, Pinkie was enacting her plan: What if she got more mares to kiss her?
It wasn’t a very good plan, Pinkie admitted to herself, but she remembered something Twilight said about establishing a hippopotamus—hypocrisy? Hyperbole?—and then testing it to prove it was true. Her hippocampus was if she gets kissed enough, anypony can make her feel tingly and weak kneed, not just Twilight.
Pinkie popped up from behind a table, startling Rainbow Dash from where she stood, chatting with some of her colleagues on the weather team. “Hey, Rainbow Dash,” she said, beaming at her friend, “kiss me on the cheek!”
The two pegasi that were speaking to Rainbow Dash backed away slowly, and she raised an eyebrow at Pinkie. “Er, why?” Rainbow asked.
“Um,” Pinkie said, her smile faltering for a moment, “It’s a party game!”
Rainbow’s skeptical expression remained, and she shook her head. “I think I’ll pass. Knowing you, this is some kinda prank.” With that, she shot Pinkie a smirk, turned tail, and followed her colleagues away.
Pinkie Pie frowned, and crossed out Rainbow Dash’s name on her mental checklist. She then scanned around, and spotted Fluttershy approaching one of the tables further along. Darting her way, Pinkie scrambled under the tables with a few bumps and spilled some of the punch on top before popping up in front of Fluttershy. “Kiss me on the cheek!” she ordered, grinning again.
Fluttershy pulled her neck in and rose up on her haunches. She stared down at Pinkie for a few moments, and stammered out, “Wh-what?”
“It’s a new party game I’m trying!” Pinkie declared without hesitation this time. “Kiss me on the cheek!”
Fluttershy blinked, and slowly unwound herself. She bit her lip, glancing off to the dance floor and the rest of the hall, then quickly pecked Pinkie Pie on the cheek. Pinkie frowned as Fluttershy pulled away. Fluttershy frowned back.
“D-did I do something wrong?” Fluttershy asked.
Pinkie sighed, and shook her head. “Nope. I just gotta keep on trying.”
Fluttershy opened her mouth to ask a followup question, but Pinkie zipped away to find more mares to be smooched by.
She bothered a few more of the guests, asking or demanding a peck on the cheek. Some refused, some accepted, and to Pinkie’s disappointment, not a one made her feel anything more than appreciated by a friendly gesture. That was still nice, she admitted, but it wasn’t what she wanted.
Now she had cornered Miss Cheerilee. She’d asked her usual question, and the teacher had blushed brightly, shaking her head. “It’s a party ga—” Pinkie tried to explain, but something pulled her off to the side. She skidded on her hooves, as though she weighed a fraction of what she ought to, and down one of the corridors a short distance. Whatever held Pinkie let go, and she spun around to return to the party only to be met by Twilight’s gaze. The princess still looked a little frazzled, but her posture was more relaxed and calm.
Pinkie pursed her lips and froze, her heart skipping a beat.
“Pinkie, folks are saying you’re acting a little weird,” Twilight said. “Knowing you, that means you are being extra-weird. No offence.” She smiled. “Is there something going on?”
Pinkie remained still for a few moments, then shook her head. “Nope!” she said. “Nothing going on at all, I’m just testing a hypotenuse. You know, sciency stuff, like you told me.”
Twilight blinked, clearly taking a moment to process what Pinkie was saying, then giggled. “Do you mean a hypothesis?” she asked. “Well I’m glad you’re taking an interest in science, but maybe you should open with that going forward. What is your hypothesis, anyway?”
Pinkie’s cheeks burned. The memory of the night before, of all the sparks in her brain and the butterflies in her gut that now rushed back through time to say hello to her once again. She swallowed.
“It’s, ah…” Pinkie glanced over Twilight’s shoulder to the few party goers she could see from where she stood. “It’s a little hard to explain. Last night, when you thanked me and kissed my cheek, I felt all funny and good and weird and—and—” She gulped again, pushing down the lump in her throat. “I wanted to see if it was just you that made me feel like that.”
Twilight’s cheeks burned this time, making her dark, lavender fur a shade darker still. Her mouth hung half open, though as she breathed in to speak, she clicked her jaw shut. “And what are your findings so far?” she asked, her voice low and quiet.
Pinkie shrugged. “Nopony else has so far, but I remember you saying you need to test a lot to really truly know if you’re right or wrong so I thought the party would be a great time to ask lots and lots of ponies—”
Pinkie squeaked and shut up as Twilight’s lips met her own. She stared into those big, purple eyes, and she ran her memory, trying to remember the night before, trying to re-imagine it.
The imaginary kiss felt nothing like the one Twilight gave her now. Her heart felt fit to burst, her lips felt delightfully fuzzy, and every single thought that made Pinkie who she was briefly left her alone to focus entirely on this one, fleeting moment.
Twilight pulled back. “Now you have two data points from me,” she said, keeping her voice quiet still. “What is your conclusion in your most scientific opinion?” she then asked, her lips quirked into a smirk.
Pinkie licked her lips while the tingling lingered for far longer than before, and smiled. “I conclude,” she said carefully, “that was the best kiss ever!”
