“Are we done yet?” Button Mash asks my sister and I irritably and impatiently for what feels like the millionth time.

“Almost there. Aaaaaaaaaand . . . done!” Rarity declares triumphantly then steps aside so that my coltfriend can look at my real body in the mirror. Likewise, the movable privacy cover that has my sister's face on it within an oval image floats away from him.

I have to struggle hard to avoid bursting into gut-busting laughter. As it stands, I can't help but snicker a little as I behold my special somepony looking at himself in the mirror and go aghast at the sight. Seen in the reflection, Button notices the very much colorful and “fru-fru” looking dress on. As if that wasn't enough, he also has full makeup on and the tips of his hooves are painted in hoof polish.

Honestly, more than anything else, it was the makeup that took the longest unless I combine the time of all the other outfits we forced my coltfriend to endure.

“Oh come now,” my sister says to Button with a wave of a hoof. “It's not that ghastly.”

“I . . . am . . . a . . . COLT!” Button reminds us in frustration using my voice and body which seems to belie his own declaration. “How many times must I remind you ladies of this?”

When he says that, I am bewildered by the clash of messages I am receiving. On the one hoof, I am seeing myself standing in front of the mirror while looking at the reflection with great irritation. I've seen that reflection myself plenty of times enough to know that is me. I still see myself that way in my mind. That image is reinforced by hearing my own voice coming out of his lips.

But, on the other hoof, that body is now acting exactly as Button Mash would.

One of the ways my mind attempts to reconcile these clashes of messages is to see that body as an actress, albeit a really good actress, who is pretending to be Button Mash while simultaneously dressed and made up in the most feminine way possible. I could honestly see a soap opera starting with an interesting premise like this.

“I'm not supposed to be in a pony bucking dress!” Button complains. “This is humiliating for me!”

“Aww!” I express while putting my hooves on my cheeks. “You even look so adorable when you complain.”

I immediately regret those words the moment I see anger sink even deeper into Button's eyes. It's not as if I can't sympathize with my colt friend's plight either. I, too, have suffered a massive crisis of identity lately. Part of me actually feels guilty for sharing this sadistic torture, but another part of me can't help it. I like to tease sometimes.

It might also be I want to be understood by somepony who is going through a similar problem that I am. That honestly is making me feel a little better.

My sister sits down and claps her forehooves together as she proposes, “Button, how about this.” She gestures to Button's reflection. “How about you pretend that this isn't your own reflection, but rather that of Sweetie Belle's? That is her body, after all.” She looks at the reflection itself. “So, with that perspective in mind, how do you feel about this image?”

Since my sister put it that way, I notice Button's irritation drop considerably. For the first time, he is examining himself as if he is his normal self again and looking at me as if I'm somepony else.

“Well . . . um . . . since you put it that way . . . I guess it looks . . . ahhhhh . . . cute . . . I guess?” he asks.

Rarity looks at Button as she asks, “Is that a question or a statement?”

“I don't know!” Button complains. “I'm not into this stuff!”

“But Sweetie is your special somepony,” my sister reminds Button. “Do you like the ensemble or don't you?”

“If you don't, we can try something else,” I propose with no menace in my voice this time. Instead, it’s an innocent offer.

Button growls irritably before complaining under his voice, “Please don't!”

“Well, I want to know what you honestly think!” I press. “Hypothetically, let's pretend we switch back to our normal bodies today and then we go out on a date.” I look at the reflection myself. “How would you feel if I wore this outfit for our date?”

“I don't know,” Button repeats as he shrugs and looks up at me off the upper right corner of my body's eyes. “I just want you to be happy, Sweetie Belle. And, if this outfit makes you happy, then I totally welcome you to wear it.”

“Aw!” Now it's my sister's turn to look gushy. “That's so sweet of you, Button Mash.” Now she smiles at my coltfriend fondly. “I can see, now, why my dear baby sister likes you.”

“I just hope you understand why I'm not comfortable wearing this,” Button goes on. “If the other foals at school saw me wearing something like this, my manly pride would take decades to recover.”

I attempt to lift an eyebrow but I think I only manage to lift chitin hide. With that expression, I say, “I don't think you have to worry about the impression of the other foals at school.

“First of all, your mother excused you from going to school in the first place because of your current situation.” I nod to him. “Secondly, even if the other foals did see you like this, they'd merely think you were me trying out yet another one of my sister's fabulous designs.”

“And you don't see a problem with that?” Button reflects as he gazes at me more squarely. “This is your body, Sweetie Belle. This is supposed to be your life. Doesn't it bother you that others would look upon me and see you instead of me?”

I look down sadly as I realize that, now that he mentions that, I do feel a pang of loss.

Actually, it is a very deep pang of loss. I tried to fight it this whole time. I struggled to hold on to that giddy sense as we pressured my special somepony into trying all kinds of girly outfits that he'd never wear normally.

But Button is right. All that he's going through should be me instead!

Both my sister and Button both seem startled when I suddenly burst into a sob.

“Oh! Ah . . . I'm sorry, Sweetie Belle!” Button expresses with startled wide eyes. “I shouldn't have said that. That was careless of me.”

“No! You're absolutely right!” I cry out in my sob. “Everything you've gone through today should be me! I'm the girl, for ponies sake! It should be me in that dress! It should be me in that makeup. It should be me being admired by my own coltfriend.” I twist my hooves into my tear-soaked eyes. “All of this is wrong! So very wrong!”

It's hard to see either of them through the blurriness of my tears but I notice the desperately confused and flustered look on my special somepony's face which, for the moment, is actually my face. He looks like he's desperately trying to come up with something that might cheer me up but, ultimately, his own resolve breaks and he starts to cry too.

Yeah. That's the crybaby Button Mash that I'm quite familiar with. Button is all macho bluster until things really get tough. At that point, he normally proves how much of a foal he still is by galloping into his mother's legs and begging for protection and comfort.

Seeing my own face on Button's doesn't make my tears seem out of place, either. In fact, he probably looks like how I should be looking at right now rather than this hideous monster form I have on!

Fortunately for us both, my sister proves to be the more emotionally mature of us. She trots over to me then embraces me in a hug. She also uses her magic to slide Button Mash over to us so that he can be included in that hug.

“I'm sorry, Sweetie Belle!” Button apologizes while crying. “I . . . I . . . I didn't mah-mean tah-too mah-make you ca-ca-ca-cry!”

“Oh, it's okay, darling. My baby sister has been under a lot of pressure lately. That's not your fault,” my sister sympathetically explains to Button. “And Sweetie Belle . . . there is no shame in pouring out your feelings. You just cry as much as you want. Neither of us will judge you.”

“You were right, Rarity,” I realize aloud. “Last night you proposed giving me a makeover so that I could feel more like myself. It was I who proposed to add Button into the mix as well. You asked me if I was sure and, at the time, I guess I didn't fully understand why you asked, but now I know. Once again you prove how much more mature you are over me. You had more foresight than I did.”

My sister pats me as she says, “It took a while for me to master this too, darling. I wasn't mature overnight. Instead, everything that makes me the pony I am today is an accumulation of all of my previous experiences which include, or perhaps I should say especially include, my old failures.

“Don't worry about it. We all had to go through this at one time or another.”

I frown while tears continue to streak down my ugly face as I say, “Yes, but I want to be a big pony! I want to be seen as mature and sophisticated. Somepony worthy of respect! I'm tired of being seen as a foal all the time!”

“But you are a foal, darling,” my sister counters. “There's no shame in that.

“Besides, I think you are remarkably mature for your age. Why . . . you even run your own business with your friends! It's just like how I run my own business here at the Carousel Boutique. I am very, very proud of you, Sweetie Belle! I know Mom and Dad are as well.”

I sniff as my tears start to dry up. Those words do make me feel better but the core reason why I cried in the first place is still here. A cold emptiness tries to claim my heart at the thought that my body is no longer being worn by me. It's being worn by Button instead and it hurts me to know that that fact hurts him as well. I wanted to find something fun and positive about this situation but all I'm feeling is how wrong and how much of a loss this is.

“I did this for you, Sweetie Belle,” Button explains within a fainter whimper. “All of this. The dresses, the makeup, the humiliation . . . all of it. I did it for your sake because you requested me to do this. You said it would be fun. You said it would be educational. Part of me even believed you, but still . . . you are the main reason. This is your body, after all. I'm just the guest in it.” He looks down sadly. “I feel like I don't have any real control over my life right now. I have to do what you want with this body because it belongs to you anyway and I deeply care about your feelings, too.”

The pain in my chest suddenly doubles which erupts into yet another burst of sobs from me. This time it is mainly because of the guilt I feel for subjecting my coltfriend to this. After all, I'm the one who thought of him when Starlight and I used that Cutie Map that one time. I dragged him into this and now he felt compelled to endure yet more humiliation because he cares for my feelings. Next to that, I'm starting to realize how selfish I've been to him. I've been a terrible fillyfriend!

“In that case, why don't we commit to the project I originally proposed?” my sister brings up. “How about we give you a turn now to have your very own makeover?” She releases me from the hug and looks back at me while holding herself apart at her forelegs-length. “Huh? How about it, Sweetie Belle? Are you ready to feel like a real lady again?”

“Um,” I sniff before answering further. “I . . . I guess so.”

“Then let's do it!” my sister decides as she parts from me a little further. After that, she gives me a very critical look up and down my new body. “Hmm. This is going to be quite a challenge.” She then grins at Button as she says, “Fortunately I have a little extra help.

“Button, will you kindly assist me?”

“Me?!” Button asks in intense surprise. “Why me?”

“Because you now have a bit of experience with fashion, my dear,” my sister explains to Button. “Now it's time to put that practice into good use.”

“You must be joking!” Button retorts. He almost looks flabbergasted. “I don't know the first thing about fashion. You tried to put all kinds of frilly and fru-fru bows and ribbons on me then asked me what I thought about them. Then you removed them before I even had a chance to formulate my thoughts on it. I have absolutely no idea why you even attempted to put them on me nor any idea why you took it away. 'Too tacky', you said. Why? Why were they tacky? How did the colors clash with each other? What do you mean when you said it did not match my complexion?

“To me, Rarity, you were speaking another language entirely. My head is still spinning . . . and now you want me to help with your actual sister? I totally fail to see what value and insight that I can provide that you don't already have in spades.”

My sister tilts her head at Button as she says, “Art is subjective, darling. You can offer just as valuable insight as anypony else because your mindset might match many other potential customers I could get. The more feedback I gain, the more I can improve my craft.”

Button looks uncomfortable as he says, “Still . . . I don't know. All this stuff is a little too girly for my taste and I'm getting sick and tired you two treating me like I'm your baby sister . . . because I'm not. I'm a colt and my name is Button Mash! Don't you two lovely ladies forget it!”

I squint one eye at Button as I ask her, “Really?! You think I'm lovely?”

“Of course,” Button says to me matter of factly. “You're my special somepony. You'll always be lovely to me.”

“Oh Button! That's so sweet!” my sister commends him before bending down and kissing the top of my body’s forehead.

“Ew! Quit it!” Button complains.

“Now, now. None of that,” my sister lighly scolds him. “You're somepony's special somepony now. Take my advice and get used to mushy stuff like that. You're going to need it.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Button grumbles tightly while peering at my sister through narrow eyes.

Spontaneously, my sister raises a hoof as she declares, “IDEAAAA!”

As if on cue, my sister rushes away so she can put her new idea on paper. I presume it's some kind of new dress that I'm supposed to wear. As I look at myself and my black, hole-filled body, I really have to wonder what dress my sister has in mind that won't clash with this complexion.

But Button distracts me from these thoughts when he asks me a question.

“Is that true?” he asks me in minor concern. “Am I going to have to get used to mushy stuff now that I'm your special somepony?”

“Of course!” I cry out as I glomp Button Mash.

This still feels really weird. I'm not attracted to myself like this and I'm sure Button is experiencing similar reservations about me and my new body.

Still, I feel compelled to be honest.

“All . . . Well, actually, more like most girls I know are attracted to that mushy stuff,” I explain to my coltfriend. “We all want to feel wanted and special. Hugging, kissing, and tender affections are all part of that wonderful experience most of us long for secretly or not so secretly.

“And, Button, I'm sorry if you felt pressured to do something you don't like to do today but I hope you also feel that it is indeed educational. You might appreciate the end results on some level but now you also understand how much work we put in to make ourselves this cute or attractive.”

“That's true,” Button realizes below me. “I guess I never appreciated something like that before. I used to look at outfits like this and just poo-pooed it dismissively as just another girly thing I can't really get into but I never understood how much work you mares and fillies put into this and how much you truly care about your appearance.” He adopts a confused look. “Should I feel sorry for you all or what?”

I lay down on top of Button while being careful not to apply my full weight. I also don't want to ruin the dress that we worked so hard to put on him for much of the day.

“Well . . . it's not all bad,” I tell him sincerely. “Most girls I know enjoy trying on different outfits. It's fun and creative. We like to see how each outfit looks on us. We're constantly experimenting because every dress and makeup can produce different results. We also have various moods we swing into for various reasons.” I shrug. “Sometimes we might feel like wearing red today and sometimes blue or pink. It all depends.”

“I . . . see,” Button replies numbly while looking like he does not really understand.

“Something else you have to understand about us girls is we were raised all of our lives being carefully judged for our appearance,” I explain further. “Try to imagine a whole lifetime, from the very beginning of our lives, including when we were young and deeply impressionable and being told constantly things like, 'Oh, that bow looks really cute on you!' or 'Oh, are you sure you want to wear those horseshoes? It does not match your complexion, my dear.'”

I see Button grow thoughtful. I give him a moment to consider my words before I go on.

“All of those kinds of words deeply sunk into our identity and our own sense of self-worth. Add to that, we are very social creatures that are terrified to death of social rejection. We have to care about our appearance or else risk a consequence that most of us find unwelcome. More than most things, we hate to be shunned.”

Now I see a look of sympathy and understanding sink into Button's eyes as he looks up at me with my own eyes that still feels really, really strange to see from an outsider’s perspective. I just can't help but feel how wrong it is that my body’s movements are not cooperating with my mind right now.

But, for what it's worth, at least I think that outfit and makeup looks cute on my body. I was fishing for compliments on it earlier while secretly afraid that my coltfriend didn't like it. If he truly doesn't like it then I may have to consider alternatives despite my own feelings about it.

“I, ah . . . didn't know how much social pressure you fillies and mares felt,” Button tells me sympathetically.

“Oh, that happens to us constantly,” I tell him as I finally rise off of him. I even offer a hoof to help him stand up. After a brief moment of hesitation, he accepts.

“So much so that we're sort of used to it,” I go on to say. “And, because of it, it trains our eye to carefully examine details of our appearance as well as carefully assess what sort of impression it might evoke. On top of that, there is our own daily mood to consider. We want to impress ourselves, too, just as much as anypony else.”

“And you all find that fun?” Button asks me skeptically. “Because, to me, it sounds overly complicated.”

“Oh, absolutely!” I express with confidence until another thought crosses my mind. “Well . . . better to say it's true for most of us but I can't speak for absolutely all mares and fillies.

“Plus,” I jab my left hoof in Rarity's direction three times to indicate her. “there are mares like my sister. While it's true that most mares and fillies are conditioned to care about their appearance to some extent, my sister takes it to a whole new level that even I can't follow.” I lower the hoof I used to indicate my sister's direction and return it back to the floor between my hind legs as I sit up straight in a cat-like pose. “My sister has an eye for detail on levels you wouldn't believe. She can see differences in color in a way that most of us cannot distinguish. She could look at fourteen different gems that all look red and tell us without any true sense of deceit, 'No, darlings. Those are not all red but rather fourteen different shades of color.'”

Button raises an eyebrow on what should be my face, for pony's sake, as he asks me curiously, “Are . . . are you being serious right now?”

I nod as I say, “Uh-huh. Welcome to a taste of my life.” Then I look up with a musing expression. “I have often wondered if my sister's mind is either trained to distinguish between more subtle shades of color than the rest of us, or if her physical eyeball can actually see more depth of color than the rest of us.” I look back at my disguised coltfriend. “I guess we'll never know for sure without actually peaking inside her mind, but it's something I've wondered for years now.”

“Huh,” Button says with an equally contemplative look now.

“Either way, can you imagine what life must look like to her?” I probe him. “Sometimes I wonder if she's bombarded by over sensory stimulation. Maybe that is why she needs her fainting couch so much.

“Well, that and the fact she doesn't like to get dirty when she faints.”

“That must be amazing though, don't you think?” Button asks me with a grin. “Maybe she actually sees some colors we can't even imagine because we've never seen them before. If only you switched bodies with her so you can find out for sure.”

“Yeah! Totally!” I agree with a grin. “That would have been nice to finally know for sure.” I then tilt my head at him as I add, “One thing I do know, however, is I have a similar talent as hers except my talent applies to sound.” I squint as I say, “Maybe I shouldn't say I am absolutely sure.” My expression returns to normal. “But it seems to me that I can distinguish between small and subtle vocal vibrations better than most ponies. After all, I have a gift and passion for singing.” I shrug. “Maybe perks like that just come with the territory.” I shrug again. “I haven't been inside someone else’s head long enough to notice the fact that they can't distinguish between subtle vocal impressions or not.”

Button gives me a curious look as he asks, “But . . . aren't you in somepony else’s mind right now? The physical ear you have isn't your own. Can you still distinguish between subtle sounds or not?”

I widen my eyes as I realize, “True! And I think I can still tell subtle sounds apart.” I look deeply thoughtful. “Does this mean my talent follows my mind and not my physical ears? Or could it mean that the body I switched with also has the same talent by coincidence?”

After seeing my coltfriend shrug, I probe him further, “What about now? Are you hearing any subtle shifts in tone you wouldn't normally notice or hear?”

“Um . . . no?” He shrugs again. “Well, not that I've noticed lately. I've been too busy blocking all of this from sinking into my subconscious mind for my protection and sanity. I love you, Sweetie Belle, but being you is more than I signed up for. No offense.”

I wave a hoof once as I tell him, “None taken. Believe me, I know how you feel right now.”

Button looks down with a frown as he says, “And there's something else that's been bothering me lately. A hypothetical situation that raises a dilemma that I just can't solve.”

“Ah . . . is it about our time of the month when we go into heat?” I ask cautiously.

Button's eyes explode widely open which tells me the answer is strongly no and he definitely regrets the fact I brought that up.

“Okay, again, for the sake of my sanity, I'm going to pretend you didn't bring that up with your coltfriend, for pony's sake!” Button expresses tightly.

“Sorry!” I express sheepishly then grow curious as I ask, “But if that isn't it, what is?”

Regret and worry returns to Button's face as he says, “Well . . . it's about . . .” He looks at me. “What if we're attacked?” He gestures to my real body as he goes on to say, “As your coltfriend, I feel it is my sacred duty to protect you,” he says with strong pride at first but it quickly shifts to confusion and concern. “But what does that mean now that we're separated like this? Hypothetically, if we get attacked, which should I prioritize more? Your body, or your mind?”

I lean my head back just a bit as the deeper implications of his question start to sink into me. I quickly start to understand the type of dilemma Button must be facing now.

Back in school, Button Mash often likes to brag about many things with false bravado. The way he describes himself makes him seem like some invincible warrior with a long mane waving in the wind and a sexy mustache hanging from his lips. It's the kind of things most foals his age like to say. Too bad it isn't true.

But, I have to admit, I do find him very attractive when I sink into the fantasy and pretend that one-hundred percent of his claims are absolutely true. There are many times I'd imagine him boldly presenting himself in a heroic stance while I am trapped in a castle tower and being guarded by an enormous dragon. Despite that, Button faces the dragon boldly and bravely no matter how much the dragon growls and hisses.

Then, when the dragon leans its long neck forward and attempts to bite, Button rushes past the attack and grabs the tip of the dragon's tail. With it, he lifts the dragon up and over him to smash the dragon into the earth back and forth over and over again before whirling the dragon around with ease then chucking the dragon away. The dragon subsequently sails away so fast that it actually flashes into a blink in the distance a few seconds later.

“Button Mash . . . my hero!” I cry out in relief and gratitude for his rescue in this fantasy.

“All in a days work, my lady!” Button declares boldly before sweeping me to the side and bending me over one of his forelegs. “Now then . . . how about you pass me a little sugar, Sweetie Belle?”

According to the fantasy, I can't resist him for multiple reasons. One; he just beat a fully grown dragon with ease so I wouldn't dare wish to anger him by denying his request. Two; he did it for my sake so that not only makes me feel secure but also deeply appreciated, and three; I personally want to kiss him anyway. I'd be more grateful to him still if he allows me to keep on showering him with a rain of kisses. So much the better because it not only allows me to express myself in the manner that I wish, but it also reassures me that he won't be motivated to leave me. If I can keep a powerful and invincible warrior like him by my side then I never have to worry about any other physical threat ever again. That, in itself, won't get rid of all of my problems but it at least phases out some of the most important ones. The challenges that remain will be more on my level that I'd gladly face either on my own or with my friends.

Reality, of course, is considerably different. I often have to roll my eyes in annoyance at how emotionally fragile Button actually is but I do still find it adorable on some levels at least. Instead of feeling like he can protect me, I feel more like a mother during those moments but a mother is still a pony who is very capable of deep affection and love.

“What do you think I should do, Sweetie Belle?” Button asks which tells me he's still stuck on this worry, thereby confirming this is an issue that deeply troubles him. “If I protect you in that body then I risk exposing this body to physical harm.” He shakes my head. “I don't know if I could live with the guilt of knowing I failed to protect you because I allowed this body, your body, to be harmed in order to protect your mind. If we switch back, you'd have to go on living with the consequences that I wrought.” He scrunches up my face in pain. “The thought of seeing you in the hospital like that with an injury I failed to protect you from bothers me a lot.”

He looks off to his side as he adds, “But the flip scenario doesn't settle with me any better either. I just can't imagine myself galloping away from danger to save your body from harm but abandon you in the process. It feels too cowardly.” He looks back at me. “In addition to the physical pain you'd face with whatever that threat is, I'd have to live with the guilt of knowing you'd face emotional pain along with it. That kind of pain can follow you as you transfer back into your body. Would you still look at me the same way while knowing I failed to protect your mind?” He shakes my body’s head vigorously in denial. “I don't think I could live with myself with that possibility either . . . so what do I do?” He grunts. “I shouldn't be forced to choose between your mind and body. Having both components together makes you the pony I fell in love with. That, in turn, simplifies my manly objective. Protect my fillyfriend who is over there. Your mind and body should be one complete and whole being.”

I narrow my eyes at him a bit while secretly thinking that this is all a moot point. Even if Button had his own body, he probably couldn't protect me from a serious assault anyway. He's just a foal with delusions of grandeur.

“Even if I tried to protect you with this body, I doubt I'd succeed,” Button realizes sadly. “Because, not only are you a girl, but you are a unicorn girl which means you're not an earth pony like me. You don't have the strength or stamina to keep up with me.”

I flinch slightly at a sexist comment from him even though I also agree with him deep down. Not being an earth pony is also an undeniable truth. That breed really is tougher and stronger. Button is still a foal but an earth pony foal. He should be stronger than other breeds of his own age.

“Sweetie Belle,” Button brings up as I see light ignite in my body’s eyes as if he just gained a brilliant idea. Attached to it is a look of intense resolve that I'm not sure if I have ever seen in him before. Whatever the reason is, I find it very attractive.

“Yes?” I ask after a moment of silence.

He looks at me squarely and firmly as he requests, “Teach me how to use your magic.”

“Huh?” I am taken aback. “What brought this up all of the sudden?”

“Magic equalizes the playing field,” Button answers. “If I learn how to use that then I can use it to protect you without needing to expose your body to too much danger.”

“Uhhhhhhh,” I say with a look of strong hesitation. There is a factor to his request that he is seriously not considering here.

“Think about it!” Button encourages me. “Size and strength doesn't matter when it comes to magic. I could be shrunken down to the size of a tiny mouse and I'd still be able to chuck a wagon away using my . . . Well, I mean, your magic.” His look shifts to pleading. “So how about it? Will you teach me?”

“I don't think you fully appreciate the full implications of your request,” I warn him. “Mastering magic is incredibly difficult for a unicorn. For most of my life, I couldn't even lift one little broom.”

“But you didn't have access to my determination!” Button argues with a fiery passion to my body’s eyes and voice. “I do!”

This is absurd! He has no idea how severely difficult of a request he's making of me. Mastering even the fundamentals of magic is incredibly difficult to begin with but he's telling me he wants to learn how to use it for actual combat.

Well, that's Button Mash, alright. Always setting the bar so ridiculously high that no pony has a realistic chance to accomplish it. Not even him.

My eyes shift to my right as I realize that, then again, I certainly have seen some ponies accomplish what others thought was impossible. Discord, for example, most ponies thought was untamable but Fluttershy rose to the challenge and accomplished what no pony thought she could. Maybe I shouldn't be too quick to dismiss unrealistic odds either. Not after everything I've seen in my young life.

I smile at him as I realize I privately admire him for at least being willing to reach for such a lofty goal. No matter the odds, I know he's doing this for my sake and I do find that deeply touching.

“Well, okay, if I have the time,” I offered. “But consider this: If we're confronted with actual danger, how about we both act against it?”

“Huh?” Button asks me with a tilt of my body’s head.

“I think we should both not overestimate ourselves,” I warn. “We're foals. There's no getting around that until we actually grow up. While I might have a more mature body for the moment, my mind is still that of a little filly. The smartest thing for us to do, if we're confronted by real danger, is to gallop away and call for an adult.”

Button thinks about that then nods my head as he says, “Agreed, but what if we can't? What if the exit is blocked or something? If we have to fight, I want to establish our priorities in advance.”

In that case, you'd probably cry helplessly, but I won't rub that in right now. He's being serious with me and I have to respect that no matter what I actually believe will happen.

And, besides, I find this side of my coltfriend really attractive!

“If it turns out we can't gallop away, then I think it's wise to realize that our opponents are facing two of us, not just one,” I point out emphatically before shaking my head. “There is no way to solve the dilemma that you presented earlier if you face it on your own. While I will admit that I am attracted to the mere idea that you're so invincible that you can easily thwart any bad guy in front of us, I have to be realistic. Right now, I'm more prepared for danger but I think we should remember that we're in this together as a couple.”

I shake my head as I go on to say, “Every aspect that you were worried about earlier is equally valid for me. Do you think I enjoyed seeing your real body in the hospital while you are drained of color and your cutie mark is missing? No! So neither would I allow you to face danger alone if we had to confront it.

“So I make this counter-proposal: Instead of choosing whether to defend my mind or my body, why not choose both? Even if those two things are separated right now, so are we. We are two separate ponies and we can make twice the impact if we act together,” I say as I bring my forehooves together. “This is something I learned by working with the Crusaders a long time ago. We are much more powerful if we work as a team.” I shrug. “Why can't we do the same? That seems fair considering we're a couple anyway. That means we are on the same team . . . right?”

Button sighs as he looks down. I can see his manly pride is getting in the way a bit. He wants to be the sole hero in such a hypothetical scenario but he also wants me to be happy. I just declared how we can make me happy which is forcing him to seriously reconsider this.

“Well . . . okay, I guess,” Button eventually accepts as he looks back at me. “That does sound like a reasonable compromise. I must admit that, in my determination to protect you, I didn't consider how guilty you'd feel if I died or got injured defending your honor. I've been asking you to endure that for my pride and I guess that is a little selfish of me. I can't help it. It's just a habit.

“But the proposal you gave also increases the odds of success. Two ponies acting against a common enemy instead of just one? Yeah. I'm down for that.” He tilts my body’s head down while still looking at me as he says, “But, in exchange for accepting your proposal, you teach me everything you can about using your horn. Deal?”

I look to the side as I muse aloud, “Earlier, Scootaloo was encouraging me to learn flying lessons from Ocellus because this might be a temporary opportunity.” I look back at him. “I suppose you're in the same boat. Even if you don't master combat magic yet, which is something even I haven't mastered, by the way . . . at least you'd know what it feels like to channel magic at all.” I shake my head. “I don't want you to go on living with the regret that you didn't take full advantage of this temporary opportunity, so I'm game.”

Button looks out the exit of the shop and asks, “Speaking of Ocellus, are you sure it was wise to dismiss her like that?” He looks back at me. “She's the only changeling in town that you can trust and watch out for you.”

“Her friends came to us, remember?” I remind him then I shake my head. “It's not fair to hoard Ocellus all the time. Her friends miss her too, and she has her own life to live. If I said no and kept her here then I'd feel even more guilty than I already do.” I smile as I look at the exit. “I'm sure she's having a great time with her friends even as we speak. That's fair and just what she deserves.”

I focus back on Button as I add, “Besides, as we pointed out earlier, I still have you and Rarity to look after me in the meantime.”

“True,” Button agrees with a half-grin. “As a good friend, we have to give her the freedom to be happy.”

“Exactly!” I agree wholeheartedly.

“Finished with the design!” my sister calls elsewhere from within the Boutique from a distance. “Now I just need about an hour to craft it.”

“Take your time, Rarity,” I call back to my sister. “I know how important it is to you for you to get things just right.”

“Oh, I know!” my sister enthusiastically agrees then proceeds to start singing while she's sewing.

Meanwhile, Button and I look at each other then giggle mirthfully.

It really is good to share this warm moment with my coltfriend and sister. Thanks to that, the coldness inside my chest temporarily abates.

Author's Note

*Note: This chapter has earned the story the "drama" genre tag.

I got to admit, the genre tag above didn't occur to me when I initially wrote this chapter. However, upon re-reading it and doing some touch-ups, I realized there is a lot of emotion in this chapter. Enough to warrant the drama tag.

This particular chapter also defends and augments the "gender-bend" and "psychological" tags. My editor liked it too because of this chapter's more complex social dynamics.

And yay! Button finally gets more time in the spotlight here.

But what did you think? Please let me know.

Until this year, I actually didn't know that the first of January is always a week after Christmas. Huh. Learn something everyday.

So anyway . . .