Rarity For You. That was the place’s name. Lightning Dust glared at the sign, not caring that she was blocking the busy sidewalk traffic. Chewing her lip, wings twitching, she seriously reconsidered her decisions up to this point. The weight of her panniers pressed down on her sides, reminding her that she wasn’t the only one relying on this decision. But when she looked at that horrendously frou-frou window display…
Reminding herself that she couldn’t turn into some prissy princess by proximity – probably – she snorted down her doubts and marched into the boutique.
It wasn’t as terrible as she’d feared. Oh, it was still terrible, but not terrible or Terrible. She only felt the slightest desire to gag. Yeah, the dresses were ick, but the stallions’ wear was okay, and the whole place had a certain flair she rather liked, as if it was aiming to be lofty without looking down on her. Now if she could just… Oh.
There was a lone pony in the store, currently examining a shirt as though searching for some fault only a dumb fashion pony would care about. Which, yeah, she probably was a fashion pony. She was also…
Lightning came to the immediate conclusion that this pony’s name was Powdered Sugar. Her entire look screamed soft and sweet and delectable. That last one made her tail flick.
No time to window shop the local flavor! Shaking her head roughly, Lightning checked to ensure that the store was empty, congratulating herself for coming in right before closing time. “Hey, you!”
The little earth pony turned to her in surprise, but quickly swept it away with a smile that could make Tirek feel guilty for existing. “Oh, hello! I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in. My name’s—”
“Don’t care, Powder.” ‘Gruff and aggressive’ was good. It would stop her from treating this as anything other than a business venture. More importantly, It defended her from that smile. “You the designer?”
It was grudgingly impressive how Powder’s smile only faltered for the barest instant. If Lightning hadn’t possessed such keen eyesight she’d have missed it. With sugar lacing every word, Powder answered, “Most of the designs belong to the owner, but I do have a few on display. I also make adjustments and repairs on demand.”
Not the designer, but a designer. That could work in Lightning’s favor. She scanned the shop all around them. She didn’t give Discord’s cherry-flavored piss about fashion, but it was impossible to deny that the clothes looked professionally made. If they all looked just as good, Lightning could only assume Powder’s work was top tier. After visiting a dozen other places of varying degrees of, ugh, sophistication, this one was looking by far the most promising.
Her attention went back to the little fashion pony. Emphasis on “little” – Lightning was a good head taller. Odd for an earth pony to be so tiny. “I need new clothes made. Designed. Flight suits for three ponies. Think you could do that?”
Oh Luna, the way the filly’s eyes and smile lit up could give ponies a heart attack! “A custom design order? Of course I can do that! Did you have something specific in mind or is this an ‘artist’s discretion’ kind of job?”
The double-whammy of that smile and the question required a bit of mental rewiring. “Uh… A little of both, I guess?”
“Delightful! Let me just set the sign to ‘closed’ and we’ll talk shop.” Powder practically pranced for the front door, leaving Lightning with no clue what to say. She’d expected some prissy primadonna, or maybe a snotty rich kid, not a ball of powdered sugar with a genuine love for the job.
Lightning didn’t get fashion, but she could appreciate passion.
Powder appeared before her, now sporting a notepad she’d snatched from somewhere. She spoke around the pencil between her lips with a clarity that made Lightning a little jealous. “So, what are we making these for?”
Lightning frowned down at the mare. “They’re flight suits. What do you think they’re for?”
Powder’s smile around the pencil was undeterred. “But what are they for? A one-time event? Regular use?”
“Does that matter?”
The filly looked as if she’d just been asked if the sky was blue, although she managed to make the look not condescending. Or maybe she was just too cute for Lightning to register anything else. At this stage it could go either way. She pulled the pencil out of her mouth and tucked it behind an ear with the smoothness of long experience. “Of course it matters! If you only need it for one show, I can use less sturdy fabrics that are more for glamor. If you’re going to be using them on a tour, I’ll have to focus on more practical materials, things that won’t need repairs on a nightly basis. Different colors come out in different ways in different fabric types too, so this helps narrow our options for the visual aesthetic.” Then, as if in afterthought, “Is there going to be any weather work involved? Do I need to plan for humidity? Static electricity? Is this more for a showy look or are aerodynamics a premium?”
Tail flick. Wings twitching. Only sheer willpower prevented a grin from spreading across Lightning’s muzzle. There was no doubt in her mind that she’d come to the right place.
Her name was Coco Pommel. Lightning kept calling her Powder. It suited her better.
Powder was a living example that being cute and cuddly – Lightning was only assuming the latter, of course – didn’t mean unskilled or unprofessional. That first meeting had gone on for nearly three hours, the designer bombarding her with all kinds of questions, most of which Lightning had never considered and many of which she didn’t understand the purpose of. Nor did she ask; it had quickly become apparent that Powder knew exactly what she was doing. Why was she only an employee at that place?
That first meeting had also been the only meeting. Until today, two weeks later. This time Powder had invited Lightning to come to her apartment. An odd choice, but Lightning merely shrugged it off. The apartment had a comfy, homey feel to it, filled as it was with all sorts of artistic clutter that Lightning suspected could best be described as ‘organized chaos’. The scene made one thing abundantly clear: to Powder, fashion design wasn’t a job or a hobby or even a career, it was life.
Eyeballing a feathered hat on a ponnequin head that looked a lot like the one on Powder’s flank, Lightning asked, “So you said you had some flight suits for me?” She blinked when she turned to find a can of grape soda held before her muzzle. Taking it tentatively in her wing, she muttered an awkward “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Lightning had forgotten how much Powder’s smiles sparkled with cavity-inducing sweetness. The filly pranced across her loft apartment, deftly avoiding all the clothes and Bridleway-themed brick-a-brack. She came before a Kirin-themed privacy screen, at which point her pleasure faded into a certain shyness that seemed uncharacteristic of the mare. “N-now, understand that these are just first passes. Let me know which design you like best, okay? Anything you like, don’t like, that sort of thing.”
The privacy screen slid away from the corner of the apartment, and Lightning’s eyes bulged. “Whoa, whoa, I asked for three suits, not—” A pause to count. “—nine of them.” She blinked, recounted. Yes. Nine. Nine flight suits in two weeks?!
Powder managed to make shrugging look bashful. “I couldn’t decide on some things, so I made enough suits that you could see all the possibilities. I also made them in different body types so you could see how they’ll work with other ponies, since you said it was for a team.”
Now that Lightning was over her initial surprise, she realized that each flight suit was a little different. Some were designed for tall ponies, others for heavier ponies, etcetera. Each suit also had a different design, although nearly all of them kept the black-green color scheme and the lightning imagery. A couple switched to a fire theme, which was surprising but not bad.
Lightning approached the outfits, trying not to look at the hoof-biting Powder. Which was a lot easier than it should have been, given what she was seeing: the first real sign that this whole crazy plan could work. “So these are…” She coughed at the quiet awe in her voice. “These are prototypes?”
Powder’s little bob cut rocked with her tentative nod. “That’s right.” The hoof tip went right back between her teeth.
Lightning stared at the nine flight suits. They were… spectacular. Each and every one of them would be great for doing shows in, but she couldn’t say that. Powder knew she was fashion-ignorant, but admitting to it? Not a chance. So she circled the outfits one at a time, eyes narrowed as she tried in vain to pick out something, anything wrong. Or at least a preference. She sipped her soda in a way she hoped evoked cool and collected judgment rather than a need to buy time. Pausing by one of the outfits clearly intended for a pony of her build, she spread her wing against it.
Ah, there was something! “I thought we were going to do my own coat colors for the green?”
Powder spat her hoof out even as her tail wrapped about her flank. “Y-yes, I know that’s what you wanted. I’m sorry, but I have to offer my professional opinion, and that opinion is that the suit will look better on you if it doesn’t match.”
Lightning raised an eyebrow at her. “Why?”
“Well…” The fidgety thing hesitated, her cheeks turning a bright pink. “Just try to imagine you’re wearing a super-tight bodysuit that’s all black and streaky, but the streaks match your colors perfectly. You know it’s a full-body suit, but all the audience sees is a bunch of streaks that match your coat colors. To them, there might as well not be any fabric there. What does…” She poked at the hardwood floor that her eyes were so fiercely focused on. “What does that remind you of?”
What was with all the sheepishness? Powder sounded like she was embarrassed by the idea. They were just clothes. Huffing, Lightning closed her eyes and tried to envision herself as the mare described. Walking in the suit, the black fitting her body perfectly, and the green forming lines along her toned—
Her eyes shot open wide. “It looks like some sort of ripped up fetish outfit. Like lingerie, maybe.”
A timid little nod. “I doubt that’s what you want.”
“It might rake in more spectators,” Lightning admitted thoughtfully, “but no, not what I intended. Good call, Powder.”
“It’s Coco.”
Ignoring the correction, Lightning took a few steps back so she could look at all the suits at once. She fought down a grin at the sight. “Okay, so I kinda like the flames thing, and I know my wingmates will be all for it, but I still want that personal touch. You know, the indicator that this is my team. Blend the fire and lightning a little. Get them both in there.”
“Both?” Powder turned to eye the nearest suit, a hoof pressed to her lips and her eyes narrowed. “I think I can do that. Yes. Yes, I can.” The nervousness was fading, gradually being replaced by that eagerness she clearly had for the job. “A fiery bolt of lightning. I can do that.”
“Good.” Lightning expected no less. Her mind and attention went to a smaller, rounder suit. She tried to imagine Short Fuse wearing it. She thought of the Wonderbolts and how they all wore the exact same flight suit. She used to think that was cool, but now it was just a reminder of how they threw her away for not being a ‘team player’.
“Okay, I’ve got two wingponies with me. And we’re the independent sorts. Why don’t we give each member a different design? That way when we fly together, we look like a team but we’re also recognizable as ourselves.”
Powder was grinning. Lightning really liked it when she grinned. It was like eating ice cream with her eyes. “Of course! I’ll need each of them here for measurements, and they can even make requests to customize the outfits to their liking.” She did a little dance, her hooves clicking on the hardwood floors. “Oooh, this is going to be so much fun!”
Diabetes. Lightning was going to die of diabetes, and it would be this pony’s fault. Her tail flicked as she realized she didn’t particularly mind.
“Ta-da!”
The Kirin-themed privacy screen slid sideways, revealing three immaculate black-and-green flight suits in the small, cluttered apartment. Lightning saw them and tried hard – so very hard – to maintain her tough exterior. She was melting so badly on the inside that it was a miracle there weren’t tears on her cheeks, although they were definitely threatening. She sucked down a deep breath and nearly choked.
The suits were the most beautiful things she’d ever seen. Powder had taken all the… suggestions she and her wingmates had made and delivered perfection. She stepped forward and slowly, tenderly, ran a hoof along the fabric. It slid perfectly along the shoulder, not so much as leaving a crease.
Powder stood proud to the side, her smile rivaling Celestia’s sun. “Water proof, static proof, and even fire resistant! That last part was the trickiest, but I made it work. You should be able to use your weather control abilities in them, but I’m afraid we won’t know for sure until you test them. The backups have varying levels of resistances, so you can test them out and see which ones work the best for your needs. I also added a little something around the wing holes to—”
“Wait.” Lightning tore her gaze from the suit in front of her to look at the designer. “Backups?”
“Of course, backups!” Powder nodded with confidence, not an ounce of enthusiasm lost. “What kind of amateur performance wouldn’t have backups?”
Alarm and a little heat ate their way into Lightning’s tone. “I only paid for three suits.”
“I made nine!”
The sugary delivery did nothing to dampen the fire that was suddenly exploding in Lightning’s brain. “I can’t pay for nine flight suits!”
Powder’s smile seemed impervious to her anger. “I never asked you to.”
Was she being bamboozled? Did this infuriatingly cute earth pony think she could pull the rug out from under her? She launched into the air, hovering just above Powder and shaking a hoof in her face. “Listen, Powder—”
A slight twitch in one eye. “It’s Coco.”
“Listen! If you think you can trick me into dredging up more money for six suits I didn’t ask for—” A pale hoof pressed firmly against the tip of her snout, her eyes going cross at the contact.
“You’re an angry pony, you know that?” Powder pushed Lightning away as if she were nothing more than a passing cloud puff. Lightning was too stuck hearing the same words from one of her ex-psychiatrists to even consider resisting. “I don’t think you realize how much of an opportunity this is for me. I’m not asking for you to pay for six more suits. I’m giving them to you.”
They were… a gift? Lightning scowled at the little pony, still hovering and arms crossed. “Why?”
Powder stood next to one of the ponnequins and ran a hoof along the jagged, slightly curved green line running down its side. “You didn’t think this was a one-time deal, did you?”
Lightning grit her teeth and refused to admit that, yes, she had been thinking that. This smelled like a trap…
“You’ve each got three suits to work with,” Powder went on as though explaining things to a schoolfilly. “I tried to make them as strong as I could despite all the demands, but they’re going to be used for stunts and performances. That’s going to be punishing on them. They’re going to get damaged. Sure, you can wear the spares, but how long before they’re all too damaged for use?” Powder sent her an inquisitive look. “Who will you go to for repairs?”
Lightning stared back, at a loss. “Can’t anypony do it?”
Powder’s smile was as sweet as honey. Lightning wished her lips were pulled back so she could check for fangs. “Water proof.” She poked the ponnequin. “Static proof.” Again. “Fire resistant.” And again. “Do you think any tailor you might find would just so happen to have those materials at the ready? That they would understand how I layered them together for the best results? That they would be able to recreate the weaving process I used?” The look she sent Lightning seemed curious. “How much do you think they’d charge you for such a special, demanding, time-sensitive repair job?”
Lightning stared down at the pony. Her tail flicked.
“And let’s not forget you’re just three ponies.” Powder looked at the ponnequins at her side. Lightning wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. “What if you take off? What if you want to get more ponies? Somepony needs to make more suits. Somepony who knows the style, who recognizes the intent, somepony who already has everything she needs to do the job on demand.”
Turning away, Powder departed for her kitchen. Her ever-so-sweet voice called out, “Where are you going to find a pony like that?”
Lightning hit the floor on her rump. Not because of any weakness but because her wings were suddenly so very, very stiff.
The entire morning and early afternoon had been like swimming in a cloud of schadenfreude. Yummy, salty, delicious schadenfreude. It was even better than the Washouts’ first show, better than hearing the roaring crowds, better than all the bits she’d earned in the last five months. Lightning would get something on that lame goody-four-shoes, had a whole list of brand-new stunts to perform, and even had a new teammate!
But now it was evening, and all the joys had come crashing down. Oh, everything before was still true. There was just one teensy-tiny little problem that could completely ruin the planned unveiling tomorrow. Which was why she was now sitting in a little wagon owned by a blue magician who was busy casting what was apparently a tricky spell.
Seeing the strain in her scrunched up face had Lightning wondering. “Say, uh, you’ve done this before, right?”
“Not even once.” The unicorn flashed a flimsy smile as a pulse ran up her horn. The appendage was lit up like a torch, making Lightning inch back a little in the cramped space. “But I’ve been taking extensive lessons on this spell so I can contact my friend when I’m on the road.”
Lightning wondered if they wouldn’t find her in the morning as a persimmon or something. Unicorn magic made her nervous.
Abruptly, Trixie fired her horn at the mirror she’d set up on the wall of her wagon. Lightning half expected the thing to shatter into a million pieces, but all it did was gain a noticeable icy blue coloration. No glowing auras, no spooky sound effects, just a bit of blue.
Lightning looked to Trixie, who was panting and had a bit of sweat rolling down her sides. “Did it work?”
“Only one way to find out.” Leaning against a crate of what might have been smoke bombs, the unicorn waved at the mirror. “Place your hoof on the glass and think about the pony you want to talk to.”
That’s it? Easy enough. Lightning pressed her hoof to the mirror – it was surprisingly warm despite the color – and thought of her costume supplier.
Like a sheet of ice melting, an image appeared in a gradually widening space within the mirror. Lightning blinked, taking in what she was sure was a bathroom in some upscale restaurant. She was staring into the face of what appeared to be a waitress in the midst of washing her hooves. She shared Powder’s colors but was a unicorn.
Lightning stared. The mare stared back with all the bewilderment mandated by a random pony appearing in a mirror out of nowhere. “That’s not Powder.”
The mare in the mirror sniffed her hooves as though anticipating something in the soap bubbles. “Umm… I’m Cordon Blue?”
“Sorry, lady. Wrong frequency.” The unicorn shot a small beam of magic into the mirror and the image promptly disappeared. “Let’s see if that does anything. Try saying her name.”
“Oookay.” Lightning repeated the motions and said, slowly, “Powdered Sugar.”
This time they saw a powdery blue stallion in a flamboyant tuxedo putting on a brown, curly wig. The moment he noticed Lightning he let out a girly squeal and reared up as if to fight off an attack. “W-what are you doing? This is my dressing room!”
“Sorry, sorry!” Cheeks pink, the unicorn shot another beam at the mirror, once again instantly wiping the image. She rubbed a hoof against her forehead with a groan. “This spell is a lawsuit just waiting to happen.”
Lightning rounded on the mare. “I thought you said this thing would let me talk to who I wanted!”
“You can’t blame me,” she growled right back. “Maybe if you’d be a little clearer in who you want to talk to?”
“I said her name. Isn’t that clear enough?”
“Apparently not.” The mare pushed Lightning away from her face with a haughty expression. “Look, it’s not that simple. Lots of ponies share names, coat colors, cutie marks, or body types. You need to paint a very clear picture in your head of who this pony is to you.”
Lightning grit her teeth and considered biting the unicorn’s head off. After a few seconds of calming breaths and a reminder that without this pony she would have to fly all the way to Manehattan for something that needed to be done by tomorrow afternoon, she decided it couldn’t hurt to try one more time. “If this was a waste of my bits, I swear to Luna…” The mare looked like she wanted to counter with some snark, but managed to hold back.
Grunting in disdain, Lightning turned back to the mirror. Who was Powder to her? Powder was her costume supplier. Why did it have to be more complicated than that? She closed her eyes and tried to picture the filly in her head.
Powder’s infectious smile gleamed on the back of her eyelids. That smile, often warm but occasionally devious. That little straight manecut that was so much cuter than a manecut had any right to be. That purple collar with the red tie. The way she sometimes struggled with her confidence but became a self-assured master the moment her area of expertise came up. Lightning felt her tail flick and realized she was… smiling.
Was it weird that thinking of Powder made her smile like that? It felt weird. Even weirder was the sudden sense of shame she felt, shame because she was…
“Trixie does have a dinner to attend tonight, y’know.”
That should have earned a glare and a rebuke, but Lightning felt too good to bother. She opened her eyes, pressed her hoof to the mirror, and firmly said, “Coco Pommel.”
The ‘ice’ melted, and there was Powder’s loft apartment. A moment of consideration and Lightning realized she was in one of those tall mirrors Powder used to see her designs from multiple angles. The filly herself was sitting at her table near the balcony, sipping tea, eating a sandwich and reading a fashion magazine. She was turned sideways from the mirror, her gently smiling face framed by the Manehattan sunset.
Lightning’s tail flicked again. It was harder to ignore this time. It was such a serene sight. Calm. Patient. Not at all like Lightning’s life. For a moment, she wondered what it would be like to spend an evening in that apartment, just relaxing and doing nothing.
Only for a moment. “Powder.” The earth pony jolted up, pressing a hoof to her heart. At least she didn’t cry out. Lightning waved, feeling a bit silly as she did so. “Over here.”
Powder turned her head to gape at her. “Lightning? What are you doing in my mirror?”
Trixie bumped Lightning’s shoulder. “I’ll leave you two to it. Remember to lock the door behind you when you leave.”
Powder had reached the mirror by the time the door closed, and Lightning was free to let her smile be as big as it wanted to be. “Hey, Powder.”
“It’s Coco.”
Lightning paused, still smiling even as a touch of guilt struck her. “Yeah, sorry. Coco.” Powder’s ears perked and her eyes widened, but Lightning plowed on before any reactions could be offered. “Look, I got a bit of a problem here and I need your help. New costume, tomorrow.”
Lightning only thought Powder’s eyes had been wide before. “Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow. It’ll be a smaller suit, sized for a teenager. That should—” A pause to remind herself that she wasn’t the expert here. “Will that make it easier?”
The earth pony across the mirror chewed her hoof as she considered the question. “Yes, but I need information. What kind of design, what resistances, what—?”
“I trust you to come up with something that works.” Lightning was surprised to realize she absolutely meant it. “She’s dark orange with a dark purple mane.”
Questions shot out of the designer. “What kind of purple? Dark Magenta? Violet? Royal?” Powder met Lightning’s witless gaze and shook her head. “Oh, nevermind! Do you at least have her measurements? I can’t do anything without those.”
Suddenly not feeling so helpless, Lightning grinned and puffed out her chest. “I do! She was able to get me the info pretty quick.” She waited until Powder had a notebook and pen, then recited the numbers by rote. Powder had her repeat them twice just to make sure there were no mistakes. Lightning grinned smugly when it was confirmed that, yes, she’d repeated them perfectly each time.
That hoof was back between Powder’s teeth as she examined the notepad. “I’ve got the materials. But how am I supposed to get it to… Where are you?”
“Ponyville.” Lightning spoke up before Coco’s paling face could lead to any sort of exclamation. “And I’m coming to you. If I leave now, I can get to your place real early in the morning, like three A.M. early. If I leave your place by ten or eleven then I should have just enough time to get back here for the next show.”
“What?” Powder hugged the notepad to her chest, worry splashing across her adorable features. “Lightning, you can’t do that! A flight that long, twice, and then you do a show? You’re pushing yourself too hard.”
Of course, she’d be worried about Lightning’s well-being. Powdered Sugar, indeed. Lightning chuckled and ignored how strangely good that felt. “Don’t worry your cute little head. I’m not gonna perform tomorrow. It’ll be the kid’s show.”
Somehow this failed to make the earth pony relax. Powder examined her notes again, this time with a firm frown. “That’s another thing. These measurements… Lightning, how old is this pony?”
“Uh…” Lightning thought back on her conversations with the kid. “I think she mentioned being fifteen?”
“Awfully small for fifteen,” Powder noted through pursed lips. “Are you sure it’s safe to have her in your stunt team?” Then, with a direct look into Lightning’s eyes, “Or legal?”
With a scoff, Lightning waved her wing dismissively. “You worry too much. The kid’s shown me some of her moves. She’s a natural.”
Powder’s eyes narrowed. “Why do I get the feeling you’re missing the point?”
“We can talk about it when I get there.” Lightning leaned closer to the mirror, unable to stop the worry from slipping into her tone. “So, can you do it? Make the suit in time?”
A long, pregnant pause. Powder examined her notes, chewed her hoof, adjusted her mane. The gears churning in her brain were practically visible in her eyes. Lightning shuffled her hooves and bit her tongue, not wanting to rush the linchpin of tomorrow’s performance.
At last, Powder heaved a heavy sigh and tucked her notepad under a leg. “At least I have the day off tomorrow. Yes, I can get it done. I’ll—”
“Yes!” Lightning punched the air, flinching when she nearly toppled a stack of fake wands in the process. “I knew I could count on you. You’re the best, Powder.”
“It’s Coco.”
“But you’re so fluffy and sweet, like powdered sugar.” Lightning realized what had come out of her mouth a wingbeat too late. Powder didn’t look amused. “Right. Coco. Sorry.” She coughed through her blush and forced a grin back on her lips. “I’m flying out now. Keep being awesome, Pow—” She clicked her teeth shut and hurried for the door. “Talk to you when I get there!”
Lightning had been having a nice dream. Something about licking powdered sugar off of marshmallows, topped with blueberry ice cream and a swirl of grape syrup. As her sleep-frazzled mind lingered on the memory, she idly pondered why she had such a sweet tooth.
The flickering recollection faded into the depths of her admittedly shallow mind, allowing her thoughts to drift to other topics. The Washouts came first. This was normal. Team leader and all that. Routines and tricks and ideas both old and relatively new flitted across her mind, deftly dodging the brunt of her attention. She needed to focus on… something. What was it? Something about a filly. A scooter? That sounded silly. No, not a scooter.
Ugh, mornings were not her time. With a bit of effort, she managed to disentangle one hoof from her sheet and reached for the clock that was normally beside her bunk. Nothing? It was not a good time for her stuff to randomly start moving around on its own.
At last, her hoof bumped something. Said something let out a quiet squeak and backed away.
A low growl escaped Lightning’s throat and she promptly turned away from the fuzzy something. “Thunder,” she grumbled, “if you brought a fanfilly into the bunk wagon again I swear to Luna…”
A moment’s pause. “I’m not Rolling Thunder.” That voice was strangely familiar.
“So I hear.” Lightning pressed against the unusually soft wall of the wagon and buried her head under her pillow. “Listen, kid, if you get out now I won’t file charges for trespassing.”
The voice came back, tired and more than a little exasperated. “You’re the one sleeping on my divan, Lightning.”
“What? No, I’m—” She angrily thrust the pillow away and sat up, only to find herself in a familiar brick-walled loft apartment full of artistic bric-a-brac. “—not?” Her apparent host was standing a couple steps away, the slight upward quirk at the corner of her lip defying the deadpan expression on her cute face. “Oh. Uh, hey, Powder. Why am I sleeping on your couch?”
Rubbing at the bags under her eyes, the mare sighed and replied wearily, “You flew through my balcony door at roughly three A.M., ate the last of my cannoli, then promptly crashed there.”
“Oh.” The blank staring persisted until Lightning’s brain finally jolted into life, a jolt that promptly brought everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours into the limelight. Her wings flared as she looked around the apartment. “The suit! The show! Crap, I’ve gotta—”
“Relax.” Powder smiled proudly as she sat and held up a small red box wrapped with a neat, golden bow. “The flight suit’s in here, ready to go. I was just coming to wake you and—”
Lightning leapt off the couch, landing with a loud clop on the floorboards and mouth agape. “You did it?”
Powder took the reaction in stride and nodded.
A grin flew onto Lightning’s face. “You got it?”
The earth pony raised an eyebrow and displayed the box again.
“And it’s…” She looked at the clock on the wall and saw that it was just after ten in the morning. Time to spare!
Something came over Lightning and she acted without thinking. Which, in truth, was not unusual for her. The specific action, however, was: she grabbed Powder by the cheeks and gave her a kiss right on the lips. It only lasted a second, and then she snatched the box away. “You’re beautiful! I so owe you for this!”
The bright red face of her costume provider barely registered as she darted through the window and into the Manehattan skyline, a streak of lightning in her wake.
Five days later. Lightning was descending towards the familiar balcony once more. Her panniers weighed heavily against her sides and her hooves felt like lead weights trying to drag her to the street four stories below. A bitter storm rumbled between her ears, just waiting to be unleashed. She kept it bottled up. It was important to do so.
The balcony’s glass door was closed. Lightning’s first instinct was to barge on through, but with gritted teeth she held back, landing in the small space. Peering inside revealed nothing. Was Powder not home? She rapped on the glass as gently as her temper would allow.
No answer came. The apartment was quiet. Two more attempts, each a little louder than the one before, earned similar results. Snorting, Lightning turned around and lay on her belly on the balcony, prepared to wait.
Waiting sucked. It was so… uneventful. But Manehattan had laws about flying low amongst the buildings. Granted, she’d broken those laws consistently since taking Pow— Coco on as her supplier, and thus far nopony had tried to stop her. She huffed and rested her chin on her fetlocks; now wasn’t the time to test the authorities. Sticking it to the mare wasn’t worth it, no matter how tempting.
Time passed. A lot of time. It moved with grinding slowness, leaving Lightning to stew for a seeming eternity. Her furious thoughts kept drifting to the past week, to Rainbow Dash, to Scootaloo, to her wingmates. To Princess Twilight Sparkle. She rubbed at the ground like a cat kneading its paws as a thunderstorm roiled within. Oh, if she could only lash out, just once…
The city was enshrouded in the shade of the setting sun, leaving Lightning chilly and uncomfortable, when the balcony door finally opened. “What are you doing out here?”
Lightning raised her head, but kept her back to Coco. “Waiting for you to get home. Where were you?” She cringed; far more of her anger came out in those words than she’d intended.
“I have a day job, remember?”
Right. She did. Her work for Lightning was moonlighting. Maybe that was a good thing. Lightning stared at the city skyline, ears folding back as she considered what was coming.
“Lightning?” Oh, Luna, why did she have to use that sweet little voice of concern? “Are you alright?”
“No. No, I’m not.” She turned her head, but avoided Coco’s eyes. “Can I come in?” The earth pony stepped aside without hesitation, and Lightning brushed past her with a gruff, “Thanks.”
“It’s okay.” Coco watched her dump the panniers on top of some discarded theater costumes and begin pacing. Lightning’s hooves clopped loud against the hardwood floor. “You’re usually not so polite about it.”
Lightning huffed and shook her mane. “The last few days made me realize I haven’t been treating you with near the respect you deserve. Sorry about that.” She kept pacing, thinking about how to admit to what was going on. Eventually she realized that the only sound to reach her ears was the pacing. She finally dared to look at Coco and was surprised to see a look of abject alarm on the filly’s face. Stopping, one hind leg still raised, she asked, “What?”
Coco took a tentative step forward. “What happened?”
She had to ask it so directly. Lightning wasn’t ready. She couldn’t not answer, though. Her wings flapped once, twice, then folded tight and tense against her sides. She considered sitting down, thought better of it after two steps to the divan. She stomped, trying to maintain her energy, but it didn’t last, and soon she was slumped to her haunches.
No point delaying. Might as well get it out.
“The Washouts are being investigated by the government. The tour’s canceled until the results are in. We…” She felt tears welling in her eyes. “W-we might be forced to shut down.”
Coco was at her side in an instant, a hoof over her shoulder. Lightning was tempted to shake it off, but some infuriating part of her stopped the instinctual reaction. “I’m so sorry, I know how much this team means to you. Why are they investigating you?”
The words were spat out like poison. “Safety violations.”
Coco’s leg stiffened against Lightning’s back. Her words became wary. “This is about that filly, isn’t it?”
Lightning barked out a laugh and pulled away, albeit gently, so that she could start pacing again. “She was just the start! Did you know a friggen’ princess lives in Ponyville? Princess Twilight Sparkle. And apparently her highness—” that with no small amount of malice “—is a feather-flickin’, walking, talking rulebook! I sat there and listened to her spout at least two dozen violations from memory! With by-laws and Luna-friggen’ case studies! I was so sure that having royalty in the audience would mean big endorsements and a nation-wide tour, but now it looks like that stupid mare’s going to ruin everything we worked for.”
Coco was lightly tapping her hooves together. She began chewing on the tip of one while the other tried to fix an already immaculate mane. “Oh, dear. I-I don’t know what to say. I wish I could help, but…”
“Oh, you will,” Lightning snarled, still pacing, still glaring at the ground. “You won’t have a choice. They’re going to come after you.”
The little earth pony’s ears shot right up, along with her eyebrows. “What?”
The panicky squeak stopped Lightning in her tracks. She spun to face the trembling pony, saw the way Coco was staring wide-eyed at her. The sight left a sinking feeling deep inside. “Oh, right. Y-yeah. That’s why I came here. I wanted to warn you, and… and…” She sagged once more, pressed her hooves against her muzzle and sighing. “And to apologize. I wasn’t thinking, all I wanted was to finally get one over on Rainbow Dash. A filly, a stupid filly!” She lowered her hooves to meet Coco’s tiny pupils. “You made her flight suit. That… That might make you an accessory. I’m so sorry.”
Coco was silent and still, sitting on her haunches with her forehooves pressed together before her muzzle. Her gaze was on some distant nothing. Her sides shifted with her heavy breathing and her tail flicked back and forth like a cat’s.
She was terrified. Lightning had terrified her, and the thought made the world feel cool. She averted her eyes and tried to will strength into her voice, but the words came out in a rasp. “Sh-should I go?”
“No.” Contrary to the frightened sound Lightning anticipated, Coco’s voice was firm. That alone was enough to draw her head up. “Lightning, what exactly does your team do?”
“Uh…” Lightning fidgeted, ran a hoof through her mane, flicked her wings. “You know. Stunt pony things?” She flinched at Coco’s hard expression. It was enough to remind her that hiding the truth could only hurt this pony. The last thing she wanted was for Coco to be hurt by all of this, so… “It’s all about danger. Real danger. We do things the Wonderbolts wouldn’t.”
Face still half-hidden by her forehooves, Coco asked with that same steadiness, “And if you mess up a stunt?”
Lightning lowered her gaze to her hooves, trying not to think of the giant rocket she’d strapped a little filly to. “We haven’t.”
“But if you did—”
“Don’t judge me!” She whirled away, those cyan eyes hurting far too much. “What do you want me to say? That your work was in support of a bunch of half-suicidal death jockeys? We know it’s dangerous, that’s what the audience wants. It’s what we want. What I want!”
Coco’s voice lost none of its edge. “Why? What would make you want to do that?”
Snorting steam, Lightning took to the air, flying circles just below the ceiling for the sake of expending energy. “What else was I supposed to do? It was the only chance I had left. The Wonderbolts wouldn’t take me. Rainbow Dash was so… so big and I was still a nopony. My cutie mark says I’m the best at what I do, and yet I had no chance to shine!”
Coco watched her circling with a skeptical frown. “Is that what it’s all about? Some petty revenge scheme?”
Lightning was in her face in an instant, teeth bared and wings outstretched. “You don’t know what it’s like to be second best! What good is having a cutie mark in flying if you’re not the best at it? That mare robbed me of my destiny, and this was the only way to take it back.”
Coco didn’t retreat. She didn’t whimper or apologize or act intimidated. Instead, she planted her forehooves on Lightning’s wings and, with the strength only an earth pony could muster, forced them to Lightning’s sides. With a single sharp push, she had Lightning on her haunches. The pegasus was too stunned by the forcefulness to offer even a cursory protest.
“You wait right here.”
A chill ran down Lightning’s spine as the designer left the room. Her tail gave a flick and her wings tensed. “Not now,” she hissed to herself. “Not the time.” But oh, how her imagination played with her. It was only after Coco had been gone for a while that it really dawned upon her how angry she’d looked.
When Coco came back, she was carrying a small bronze trophy. More important was the mare’s face, which was set in the kind of firm and unpleasant glare Lightning never could have imagined would ever grace the pony. She thrust the trophy in Lightning’s face and snapped, “Read it.”
Having an age-old reverence for prizes hard-won, Lightning accepted the trophy in her forehooves and eyed the inscription. It was for something called ‘Fashion Week’. First place. To somepony named Rarity. She stared at the name, momentarily lost. “It’s… not yours?”
Coco was staring at the floorboards, tears welling in her still passionate eyes. “My boss. She let me keep it. For ‘motivation’, she said.”
Lightning eyed her. Then the trophy. It proved frustratingly unwilling to explain what this was all about. “I don’t understand.”
“Oh, think about it, Lightning! You’re hotheaded, not stupid.” Now it was Coco who was pacing, her head low and her tail constantly swishing back and forth. “What was I doing when you first discovered me?”
“Uh…” Lightning carefully set the trophy atop a nearby sewing table as she thought back. “You were at work. At that boutique?”
“Exactly! I’m an employee. And to whom?” Coco thrust a hoof at the trophy as if intending to knock it across the room. “Rarity. The princess of fashion, the icon of the industry, the Pony Everypony Should Know. I got my first Bridleway job not because of my own merit but because she didn’t want it. And when the show ended I got to do a couple fashion shows. Not because of my own work in the theater, but because I knew Rarity. And when that came to an end, where did I end up? As a glorified clerk in one of Rarity’s privately owned boutiques! My entire career exists only by her generous whims!”
There were tears now, streaming down the earth pony’s soft cheeks and making Lightning feel unnervingly helpless. What was she supposed to say to any of this? Her eyes drifted to the trophy once more, if only for the sake of not seeing the red around those lovely blues. “You must really hate her, huh?”
A choked laugh answered her. Coco’s tone eased, all vehemence gone. “No, I don’t. Rarity is such a beautiful pony, in all the ways a pony can be beautiful. I can’t hate her. But at the same time, I…” A hard, heavy sniff. “I was born to make clothes. I’m supposed to be good at this.”
“Wait, what?” Lightning took a step closer, but wasn’t sure what she intended to do. Coco was turned from her now, face hidden behind her short mane and shoulders trembling. “But you are good. You made the Washouts’ flight suits, and those things are perfect.”
Coco spun around. A few tears were flung into Lightning’s face by the sharp motion. “Then why do I have to depend on her to survive? Why can’t I stand on my own? My special talent is in fashion but I’ve never even made second place, so do not come into my home and tell me that I don’t understand what it’s like!”
Lightning watched as the filly fought with her tears, violently rubbing at her eyes as she blubbered. Two facts in particular stood out like sore hooves. The first was that Coco’s helping her hadn’t been just a mutually beneficial business opportunity, it had been a real, tangible chance for Coco to do something without the influence of her employer. A chance that Lightning, in her arrogance and stupidity, had ruined.
The second, and the thing that really made her feel like the slime in the bottom of a sewer, was that she’d made her Powdered Sugar cry.
She couldn’t be involved with this pony. There was no point dragging the designer down with her. It was time to cut ties and let the filly float to the surface. She turned around and started for the balcony.
“W-where do you think you’re going?”
The question shot a burst of terror into Lightning. She had to get away. She had to get away right now! She began to pick up speed, got ready to leap—
Something small slammed into her side. Before Lightning knew it, her wings were pinned beneath Coco’s forehooves and two threatening blue eyes filled her vision. “You do not get to run away from me,” Coco snarled in her face. “Take responsibility for your actions!”
“I’m trying to,” Lightning barked. Her instinct was to fight back, but the idea of hurting Coco had her feeling sick. She settled for pressing her hooves to the mare’s chest. Whether through some inexplicable font of earth pony strength or sheer stubbornness, Coco didn’t budge. “I’ll let them have me and tell them you didn’t know.”
“I’m not going to let you do that.”
Lightning thrust her muzzle against Coco’s, the better to match her glare for glare. “They’re going to find me at fault anyway! At least this way I can protect you.”
“What makes you think I’m helpless?” Coco stood up tall, trying to take on an imperious look. Her soft features really ruined the effect. “Just because I focus on frilly things like clothes, I need protection, is that it?”
Lightning tried valiantly to hold it in, but a chuckle escaped nonetheless. The worsening glare told her she was already doomed, so she decided to go all in. “You’re Powdered Sugar. You’re so soft and sweet and yum! Why wouldn’t I want to protect you?”
The earth pony’s scrunched up face was so adorable that Lightning was rapidly losing the battle to hold on to any lingering anger or worry. “My name is Coco Pommel!” Coco pressed a hoof to her forehead with a groan. “If you were a stallion I’d associate your behavior with pointless machismo.”
Her wing was free, and Lightning wasted no time. She brought her free side up, wrapping a foreleg and the freed wing around Coco and pulling her down to the floor. She held the pony tight, marveling at how soft she really was. She didn’t know why her heart was banging against her chest. She only knew that she finally had the mare in her hooves and she really didn’t want to let go. “I’m sorry,” she rasped in Coco’s ear. “I never wanted to hurt you. I underestimated you and I’m sorry. I wanted to be the strong one. I… I…”
Coco gradually returned the hug. Her tone was wry, but laced with barely restrained emotion. “You talk about yourself too much.”
“I-I know.” Lightning choked out a chuckle. “I’m selfish.” She tightened her hold. “But I don’t want to be. Not with you.”
Coco pulled away to give her a smile that was one part amused and one part surprised. “That doesn’t sound very ‘Lightning Dust’ of you.”
Lightning would forever deny how much her cheeks were burning just then. “Yeah, well, don’t spread it around to your friends.”
Now it was Coco who was giggling. Luna’s moon-painted flanks, but she had a nice laugh. “My lips are sealed. Speaking of friends, let me—” She tried to stand, but Lightning held on tight. The confusion came back yet again. “Lightning?”
Realizing what she was doing, Lightning jerked her hooves and wings away so quickly one would think Coco was made of fire. “R-right! Sorry. Letting go now.” She coughed and rolled away, pulling herself back into a sitting position. For a fraction of a second, she considered using this opportunity to fly off and do all the things her earlier panic had insisted upon. Now that she was a bit calmer, though, she found she really didn’t want to leave.
While she was trying to figure this out and determinedly avoiding Coco’s cocked stare, the earth pony said, “I’m going to contact a friend. She might be able to help us out.”
Shaking her thoughts away, Lightning refocused on her companion. “Unless that friend has a direct connection to one of the princesses, I don’t see how she could help. Like it or not, I am guilty of those safety violations.”
“Even so, she might be able to help in some way. Better to try, right?” Coco went to her writing desk, digging through its old, creaky drawers for an envelope. “If we send the letter as soon as the post office opens, she’ll get it by noon. You can stay here in the meantime.”
Lightning’s eyebrows shot up. “What? Here?”
“Of course.” Coco, unaware of the mountain of anxiety looming over her guest, set the envelope atop the desk and grabbed a pen. “It’ll be easier if we’re both here to talk to her.”
Of course. That’s all she meant. Even so, Lightning found herself looking around the apartment. She could sleep on the divan again. It was surprisingly comfortable, and her wingmates would be fine back in Ponyville. They were grown ponies, after all.
As she watched Coco write, a warmth began to build within her. It was becoming more and more familiar, this feeling. Nopony had ever made her feel so… welcome. She trotted a small circle, eyeing the apartment. The assorted costumes that looked like they’d been stolen from a wide range of Bridleway shows, but were probably hoof-made by Coco. The smell of cinnamon and tea, the cool breeze from the balcony door. Even the dark red of the brick walls and the heavy clopping of the wood beneath her hooves. Lightning stretched her wings and breathed in the familiar air of a homey, lived in, pleasant Manehattan apartment, and her worries began to melt away.
Soon, things were going to get bad. Soon, she’d have to face the consequences of her decisions. Soon, she would be stared down by Princess By-the-Book. But right now she was in Coco’s home. Strange, how the mighty Lightning Dust was the one feeling comforted by Powdered Sugar.
Then again, Coco had never been the weak one, had she?
“All done!” Coco tucked the sealed envelope aside and turned her warm, heart-flipping smile at Lightning. “How about we get some dinner? I hope you like kale and broccoli, because that’s all I’ve got in my pantry right now.” Rubbing her foreleg with a sheepish look, she added, “I was going to go shopping tomorrow.”
Lightning took in the deceptively sweet features and couldn’t help but grin.
“That sounds great.”
It took all the willpower Lightning had to not panic.
The unicorn who walked through Coco’s door was white, with a curly purple mane. She had a body that, while not in peak physical condition, had clearly been well cared for, to be expected of somepony who spent a lot of time in the limelight and was expected to answer the call to battle on a moment’s notice. But what Lightning most remembered about her was how she’d once been falling to her doom because of an errant tornado. As those sharp blue eyes landed on her, narrow and damning, Lightning understood that she was as good as doomed.
The trophy had her name on it and everything. Why hadn’t she put two and two together?
“Hello again, Rarity.” Coco offered a steaming cup of tea on a saucer. She was all smiles, as if all her worries had disappeared. “Thanks for coming so quickly. We really appreciate it.”
The hawkish look disappeared from Rarity as though it had never existed in the first place. The mare grinned like she was on a catwalk and spoke with a posh brand of humility. “But of course, darling. I’m always happy to help my favorite Manehattanite.” Taking the cup in her magic, she gave Coco a quick kiss on each cheek, making Lightning bristle a little.
Taking the little greeting in stride, Coco sidestepped and waved a hoof at Lightning. “I doubt you need the introduction, but this is my friend, Lightning Dust.”
“Indeed, we’ve met.” There was an extra edge to the way Rarity said that. She took a dainty sip of her tea. “You’ll have to forgive me, Miss Dust, but how exactly do you know my dear friend and assistant?”
Lightning’s wings felt like lead. She glanced at Coco, who gave her a reassuring nod. They’d talked about this. Just be straightforward. Even if straightforward translated as ‘straight to the gallows’. “Uh, yeah. Coco’s my designer. She, er, designed the flight suits.”
Rarity frowned at her assistant. “Is this true, darling?” When Coco only nodded, she sighed. “I’m curious as to how a brute like Lightning convinced an angel such as yourself to participate in her… crude business.”
The earth pony shot a fretful look at Lightning, as if afraid she would react negatively to the statement. On the contrary, Lightning was all smiles. Nothing Rarity had said was wrong, after all. The smile faded when the unicorn’s hard blues stabbed her way again. “I didn’t tell her the details when I first talked to her. Far as she knew, I was making a bootleg Wonderbolts. So.” She held her head high and met Rarity’s gaze, willing herself to be confident in the face of her judgment. “Don’t be mad at her. I’m entirely to blame for all of this.”
An immaculate eyebrow rose, although Rarity didn’t lose an ounce of hardness. “That’s not at all the kind of answer I’d have expected from you, Miss Dust.”
Lightning blinked. “What were you expecting?”
“Not for you to stand up for my assistant.” Setting her teacup aside, Rarity offered a conciliatory smile. “That helps your case in my eyes.” She looked to Coco, who was now sipping from her own cup. “But I’m not sure what you’re expecting me to do. I gather you’d like me to help with Lightning’s situation, but I’m not the pony in charge of the investigation.”
Coco ducked slightly and averted her gaze. Rotating the teacup in her hooves over and over again, she began to stammer. “I-I just… Well, you see, I… L-Lightning’s not… Oh, bother.” She stiffened as Lightning set a hoof to her shoulder, then relaxed. A little. She shot Lightning a look somewhere between appreciation and hope.
Getting the message, Lightning said, “I asked Coco to design Scootaloo’s flight suit. It was a rush job. She had no idea what I was really planning.”
“Even so,” Rarity concluded grimly, “being your designer means she’ll likely be questioned, and the topic of Scootaloo will come up. Yes, I see the issue.”
Coco was cringing. Lightning hurried to her defense. “I know the investigation is going to go against me. I’ve accepted that. But I don’t want to take Powder down with me.”
Rarity’s frown turned perplexed. “Powder?”
“Er…” Lightning wished she could stop the blush. She avoided looking at Coco. “Sorry. It’s a nickname. I’m trying to kick the habit.”
“I see.” After a moment’s contemplation, Rarity lifted her teacup in her aura once more and trotted for the armchair opposite the divan. She took a moment to move the stack of fashion magazines from it before settling down. “I want to know everything that’s happened. How you met, how you came to work together, all of it. We shall see if I have any means of assisting.” She shot Lightning another lecturing look. “Or a desire to do so.”
And so Lightning and Coco spent the next two hours sitting side-by-side on the divan, relaying the story of their little partnership. Lightning had expected the topic to be boring, but she found herself strangely invested in hearing Coco’s side of things. She tried to focus on that, rather than the cool study of the unicorn sitting across from them.
As much as Lightning didn’t want to admit it, Rarity was an intimidating pony. While there was a bit of posh to her nature, there was also a distinct aura of command. She asked pointed questions, her manner demanded honesty, and her presence exuded authority. This was a mare who had fought for her status and was both willing to and capable of defending it. Rarity was a pony with power, and Lightning was convinced that she’d have attained that power regardless of her relationship to the Princess of Friendship.
Lightning tried to be careful with her statement and hold back on her bouts of frustration. Just one wrong word might be enough to turn Rarity against them. Add that Rarity was also close friends with Rainbow Dash and Lightning was kept eternally on edge. If Coco hadn’t been there to occasionally touch her hoof or give her an encouraging word, she wasn’t sure she would have gotten out of the conversation with Rarity’s good graces.
When the story finished, Rarity settled back in her chair and studied something between and beyond the two mares. It was nearly a full minute before she finally spoke up. “This is quite the pickle you’ve found yourself in, Miss Pommel.”
Coco bowed her head, mane falling forward to hide her face. “I usually like pickles.” Lightning, concluding appearances weren’t so important right now, placed a wing around the mare. The little pony leaned against her, sparking a mighty war on Lightning’s face between a smile and a grimace. The piercing look Rarity was giving her didn’t help matters.
The fashionista spoke firmly. “Twilight Sparkle asked for Princess Luna to personally handle the case.”
Lightning went stiff, her mind assaulted with images of being chained in a dark room with the steely eyes of the Princess of the Night peeling her apart piece by piece like an onion.
“Luckily, the princess declined, saying that the matter should be addressed in a proper courtroom before being elevated to a royal concern.”
The icy arrow left Lightning’s heart, leaving her cold and frustrated. She met Rarity’s cool look with a glare. “Did you bring that up just to make me squirm?”
The Bearer of Generosity was unburdened by Lightning’s tone, casually massaging the arm of her chair and sipping from her teacup. “I told you that so as to emphasize how seriously Twilight is taking the matter. Make no mistake, Miss Dust, she means business. What is it you plan to do?”
Lightning tightened her wing’s hold on Coco. Her warm and soft presence helped ease the shivers. “I don’t have a plan. I already know I’m going to lose this case.” She raised her head high. “I want Coco out of the line of fire. We need some way to protect her.” Coco shot her a curious look, which Lightning did her best to ignore.
“I… appreciate Lightning’s concern,” Coco admitted. “But I don’t think I have much hope. I found it odd I was asked to make a flight suit for such a small pony. I even questioned Lightning about her age. But I still made it.”
Rarity’s tone held no softness, not even for her ‘darling’ assistant. “Were you aware that Lightning intended to strap a rocket to the filly?”
Coco shot up, forcing Lightning to pull her wing back. “A rocket?” The look she sent Lightning’s way sent little, sharp ice cubes rattling in Lightning’s chest.
Lightning leaned away from her, trapped between Coco’s horror and Rarity’s judgment. “What? I wanted her first stunt to make a splash.”
“I think the word you’re looking for,” Rarity practically growled, “is ‘bang’.”
“What were you thinking?” Coco cried.
Instincts raged within Lightning, telling her to be defensive, to justify her actions, to pin the blame elsewhere. She turned from the two of them, hopping off the divan and taking a few steps away. The energy was there, ready to explode out of her mouth like a dragon’s flames. Yet, when she closed her eyes to think about exactly the right words to use, all she could see was Coco’s terrified visage. It doused her fire like a deluge of ice water, leaving her shivering and uncertain. Now that she looked back, she could remember the alarm on Scootaloo’s face too.
Scootaloo. A mere child, but one that had so quickly caught Lightning’s eye. At first, it had merely been the thought of getting a leg up on Rainbow Dash. But then…
“Lightning?”
That damn earth pony and her pleading voice. When did Lightning develop such a sweet tooth? She opened her eyes and heaved out a long, low sigh, letting the last of her anger fade away. With the next inhale came a sense of having been found wanting. The same nagging sensation she fought against for so long, back with a vengeance.
“I’m going to regret this.” Finally turning back to them, she settled on the floor and stared at her hooves. “I don’t think I can live with myself if I have to do this twice, s-so listen up. Scootaloo is… I thought she was…” Hold it. Deep breath. Focus. “Scootaloo reminded me of myself at her age. Eager. Capable. Fun. More importantly, up against some serious competition.”
Rarity spoke up. “Competition? Scootaloo is still a child. What is she competing in?”
“You want to hear this or not?” Lightning leveled a scowl at the unicorn. As always, Rarity was unaffected. “The kid can’t fly. Who knows if she’ll ever be able to. Honestly? I doubt it.”
“Are you saying you had trouble flying as a filly?” Concern and, worse, pity filled Coco’s eyes at the query.
Another stupid interruption, but Lightning couldn’t bring herself to get upset at Coco over it, so she kept her glare aimed at Rarity. “No, but you think ponies wanted anything to do with me and my ‘sunny personality’? You once told me I’m an angry pony. I’ve got at least three doctors who would confirm that.” Seeing the question on Coco’s lips, Lightning waved a hoof to stop her. “It’s not important right now! The point is, Scootaloo and me? We both have handicaps that society’s not too kind about. So, yeah…” She looked away, pretending not to feel the heat in her cheeks. “I liked the kid. I thought she was cool.”
Lightning had to pause. Her mouth was running and she needed to stop before she said something she didn’t mean. This was not a time to let her eternal fire get the better of her.
Rarity took advantage of the pause. “So you don’t think she’s cool now?”
“I didn’t say that! Don’t—”
Pause. Push it down. Breathe.
Turning away from the two of them, Lightning finally found the words she thought painted the clearest picture. “My mistake was thinking ‘Scootaloo is just like me.’ She’s not. I thought she’d do anything I’d be willing to put myself through. Any hesitation was just a lack of self-esteem. If I pushed, it would help her get over that. It wasn’t until later that I realized Scootaloo didn’t want to take those risks.” Facing Rarity once more, she quietly confessed, “I should have seen that. I shouldn’t have pressured her.”
Rarity said nothing to this, her expression thoughtful but ever-serious. Coco hesitantly asked, “You mean if Scootaloo had been okay with these life-threatening stunts, that would have made it okay?”
“Yes.” Paying no mind to Rarity’s darkened visage, Lightning held her head high. “We’re responsible for our own lives, aren’t we? Scootaloo is smart enough to make her own decisions and take her own risks. Not wanting to do the stunt was the right call for her. Not listening when she showed signs that she didn’t want to was my mistake, and I deserve to be punished for that.”
She met Coco’s uncertain gaze, softening her tone yet again. “The same applies to you. I never told you what the kid was going to be doing. For all you knew, she’d have been some apprentice taking on minor, safer performances until I deemed her ready. You had no reason to think I was going to risk her life.”
They held one another’s stares for a few seconds. Gradually, Coco’s ears folded back. With a small smile, she said, “You’re determined to protect me from this, aren’t you?”
“Well, yeah.” Lightning casually gestured to Rarity. “Isn’t that why we’re all here?”
“Coco?” Rarity’s horn lit up. A bit purse levitated from her bag and floated towards the waiting earth pony. “Do be a dear and fetch us some crepes from that charming little cafe next door. You know the ones I like.”
Lightning bristled, especially at the hurt expression on her designer’s face. Only a pleading look from Coco kept her from snapping. The little pony accepted the bit bag, hanging it around her neck, and started for the door with her tail between her legs. Just as she was about to pass Rarity, she paused. “Uh, M-Miss Rarity—?”
Rarity was calm and casual as could be. “Hmm?”
Unable to meet her boss’s eye, Coco chewed on a hoof and mumbled, “A-am I fired?”
The unicorn let out a hearty chuckle and waved dismissively. “Pft, oh, darling, don’t be ridiculous. I’d just as soon dye my mane green and wear yellow-on-purple plaid than fire you.” Then, with a hoof on Coco’s shoulder and a gentle tone, she concluded, “You’re a dear friend, Coco, and I would never turn my back on you. That’s a Pinkie Promise.”
Coco took in her mentor’s kind face. Relaxing some, she gave an appreciative nod. With one last glance at Lightning, she left the apartment.
Only when she heard the door close did Lightning spit the words out. “Whatever you want to say to me, you could have said it in front of her.” She jumped onto the divan, settling on the warm spot Coco had just occupied. Entirely by coincidence, of course.
“Perhaps.” Rarity peered in a way that forced Lightning to resist fidgeting and scratching at her coat. “I want to know what your intentions are towards my assistant.”
It took no small amount of willpower for Lightning not to jump to her hooves and shout. “I told you, I want to keep her safe from my screwup.”
Rarity rolled her eyes. The motion left the impression of a parent lecturing a child. “I’m not talking about the investigation.”
Huffing through gritted teeth, Lightning wondered if the damn mare would survive being alone with her long enough for Coco to return. “Then what?”
A little self-satisfied smirk slipped across Rarity’s lips. “I consider it no boast when I say I’m more observant than most, and I observed the way you look at Coco.” Lightning had to steel herself just to keep meeting the unicorn’s expectant gaze. “So what is it? A passing fancy? A crush?”
Curse those eyes. Lightning looked at her hooves and tried not to think about why she’d chosen to sit where she had. “What does this have to do with anything?”
“Lightning.” Rarity’s tone was as hard as steel. “I am here for Coco’s benefit. Not yours. I will protect her if she needs protecting. I’m trying to determine if she needs protecting from you.”
The last word stung like a hot coal. Lightning sunk down on the divan, chin tucked between her forehooves and eyes on the far wall. She tried not to envision Coco’s cute little face. It was hard to do. She spoke to distract herself. “You’re probably right to worry. I’d never hurt Powder. Not on purpose. But if I wasn’t going to hurt her, you wouldn’t have to be here in the first place.”
“You sound like you’re worried about it.”
“Shouldn’t I be?” Lightning flicked a glance at Rarity. The mare was a veritable ice queen. “You are. You’ve seen how I screw up. I don’t know if I like her. I’ve never… really… liked somepony before.” That was true in a variety of ways, few of which Lightning was comfortable with. “Let’s just say I do. Doesn’t matter. When this mess is over I intend to stay as far away from her as possible.”
“For her own protection.” Rarity stated it like a fact.
Lightning felt cold just thinking about it. “Y-yeah…” Damn it, she was supposed to sound confident right now. “Yeah…” She barely suppressed a groan; that hadn’t been much better.
Rarity let her stew for a few extra seconds, daintily sipping the last dregs of her tea, before primly declaring, “I think you’re making a mistake.”
Lightning perked her ears, but otherwise said nothing.
Apparently taking this as permission to explain, she continued, “I think Coco knows. You don’t get to do what we do and not be observant.”
Lightning balked at the thought. It was such a ridiculous idea that she even found the energy to glower at Rarity properly. “If she did, why hasn’t she said anything?”
Using her magic to pour herself more tea, Rarity didn’t bother to look at Lightning as she calmly replied, “Because you’ve spoken to her about how you feel, I take it?”
Ouch, there was that coal against her chest again. Lightning shifted tactics. “I still can’t act on it. I wouldn’t know how, and I think we’ve already agreed I’m not a good fit for her.”
“I don’t recall ever saying that.” A cube of sugar slipped into the tea, followed by a spoon. Rarity at last met Lightning’s eyes. “I’m a hopeless romantic, you see. I’m open to most forms of romance. I wouldn’t give up on your potential as a partner for her just yet. Where’s the juicy drama in that?”
Lightning sat up, all the better to display her total loss for what had just passed through her ears. “Seriously?” When the unicorn merely sipped her tea and offered a pleasant smile, Lightning sighed and rubbed her forehead with both hooves. Unicorns were a crazy lot. “First of all, we’re not here to talk about my nonexistent romance with your assistant. Second, Powder’s not interested. She’s not shown any sign that she is.”
“Disregarding the wonderful eyesight that seems standard fare for pegasi of your aerodynamic caliber,” Rarity smoothly countered, “I must seriously question if you are observant enough to have noticed.”
“I’m telling you, she’s not interested!”
“And I’m telling you to find out for sure.”
Unable to suppress her groan of frustration any longer, Lightning gave her wings a few frustrated flaps. “Why are we even talking about this?”
With a faint sigh, Rarity tossed her mane and set her teacup aside. “I swear, you and Rainbow are like two stubborn buttons on the same tacky sports jersey. We, you and I, are here for Coco. We want to protect her, yes?” Without waiting for Lightning’s acknowledgement, she pressed on. “Imagine for a moment that Coco cares about you. Forget romance. Are you her friend? Does she like you enough that she would give you such a moniker? Is she willing to help you at her own expense?” She threw a hoof up. “Don’t answer. I’m here, which is evidence enough that she is.”
“Okay, okay!” Lightning thrust her hooves apart in a wide-armed shrug. “What are you getting at?”
Rarity’s voice was, yet again, sharp. “If Coco is your friend, how will she feel if you just abandon her?” She leaned forward, eyes peering. “What if she cares about you as something more than a friend?”
Obviously, Coco didn’t think about Lightning that way. Then again, she’d never really had somepony be happy to see her, especially not in the way Rarity was suggesting. Coco had never seemed unhappy to see her. Wasn’t Coco friendly to just about anypony she met? Not that Lightning had seen her out and about. But that sweet voice? That cute, soft-looking face? Those enthusiastic, sparkling blue eyes? She just had to be the type.
Rarity was smirking again. Lightning realized far too late that she was grinning, and probably not in a cool or suave way. Turning her face away with a huff, she asked, “What are you asking me to do?”
“I would have you talk to her,” Rarity patiently replied. “Soon. Before either of you end up in a trial, at the very least.”
Lightning crossed her hooves and glared out the balcony doors. “You’re aiming for the moon.”
“You know what they say about aiming for the moon.” Rarity was all smiles and charm as the door to the apartment opened, revealing a worried Coco carrying a large to-go bag. “If you miss, you might just hit a star.”
Lightning wanted to tell the mare she was being stupid, but the sight of her host stilled her tongue. There were more important things to deal with, like giving the earth pony a nod to let her know things were fine. Coco’s smile made it worth it.
The cargo train was a mess. Junk scattered everywhere, equipment ruined, one wagon turned over. The earth had several long ruts, as if someone had taken a plow liberally to the grounds. And there Lightning stood, two royal guardsponies on either side of her as several more combed through the wreckage. Her entire body felt like lead. Scanning the area on the outskirts of Ponyville from one side to another, she mentally calculated the financial impact.
The guard to her left had a clipboard in hoof and a pen in her mouth. “A local reported it last night. Do you have any idea who could have done it?”
An ‘idea’. Lightning would have snorted had she any energy. She slowly dropped to her haunches as the consequences of what she was seeing began to drag her down. It was like being caught in a pressure pocket with no hope of controlling her descent. The ground was coming up so quickly…
Her voice taught, she asked, “Anypony seen Rolling Thunder and Short Fuse?” The question was pointless, but she grasped the faint hope like a baby pegasus on the tiniest tuft of cloud.
The guard shook her head solemnly. “Nopony’s seen either of them since yesterday afternoon. Best we have is a weather worker seeing sompony possibly matching Rolling Thunder’s description flying east, out of town.”
The little tuft was gone, and Lightning was flailing. She bit her lip to keep the tears at bay. Those selfish, uncaring pricks. She’d known they weren’t really friends. They’d been brought together by circumstance and a similar goal, that was it. Even so, she’d thought they’d respected her enough to see this through. As soon as the air turned turbulent…
The guard on her right shuffled from hoof to hoof. “I’m sure insurance will cover the damages.”
Not that it would do Lightning any good. The equipment could be replaced, but where was she going to find some new pegasi willing to join her team? Especially with the investigation? It was over. Her last chance at making something of herself, blown apart because of a stupid princess and two backstabbing teammates.
The ground was coming fast. Her feeble filly wings couldn’t hold her up.
“Miss Dust? Do you need a moment?”
She turned away from the sight of her wrecked dreams, trembling from muzzle to tail. “I know who did it. I’m not pressing charges.” It wouldn’t resolve anything.
The guard nearly dropped her clipboard. “Y-you’re not? Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure!” Her wings flung open as she began marching away. “Do what you want. Throw it all in a junkyard for all I care.”
“But don’t you want to go through the wreckage, salvage things?” Offered the other guard. “Maybe there’s something of personal value?”
The first tears were slipping out of her treacherous eyes. “There’s nothing of value here.”
Against all odds and the lead weighing her down, Lightning lifted off. She flew northeast, leaving behind the image of a filly hitting the ground at terminal velocity.
The balcony door was closed, but not locked. Lightning slipped through, neglecting to close it again. She stumbled to a halt in the middle of the apartment, doubts and self-recriminations filling her head and stilling her hooves. This was a dumb decision. It was going to get her into trouble.
She sat. She thought. Thinking led to bad ideas, so she stopped doing it after a while and just took in her surroundings. The dark of night did nothing to make the place feel less comfortable. The costumes that had been in a pile before were now cleaned and hanging on racks. That was new. There was an empty teacup on the reading table. Also new, and worrying. Coco didn’t like dirty dishes.
Lightning blinked. Powder didn’t like dirty dishes. That she was aware of this was… weird. Lightning didn’t often notice things about other ponies. Other ponies usually weren’t worth her time. But she knew Coco liked her kitchen clean, even when the rest of her place wasn’t.
What else did she know about Coco? Lightning’s legs began moving her, slowly, stiffly, to a doorway she’d never gone through.
Coco liked cannolis. Especially the peach ones.
The door loomed over Lightning. Her legs wouldn’t stop for it.
Coco would chew on the tip of her hoof when she was anxious.
There was no resistance offered. Lightning entered the room.
Coco worried about others. Even those she didn’t know.
There was a bed, low-lying and sized for only one. A lone window stood open, the curtains drifting in a faint breeze.
Coco didn’t quit when things got rough. She stood by her friends.
A faint snore rose from the bed. The earth pony’s face peeked over the covers. Seeing that face, even partially, made Lightning’s heart flip. The emotions running through her were hideously conflicting, painful and joyous in equal measure. She raised a leg, moving to poke Coco, but hesitated.
They were friends, weren’t they? They got along. Powder wouldn’t… Coco wasn’t like…
Something hot and full of needles pushed up through Lightning throat, coming out as a choking gasp. Only now did she notice the tears burning streaks down her muzzle. She sat and scrubbed at them with both hooves, but they didn’t stop. Her throat squeezed out a rasping, “P-Powder…”
She slapped her hooves over her lips. Nothing. The earth pony didn’t move.
Relief.
Agony.
Stupid. She was a stupid pony and this was a stupid idea and she needed to leave before Coco got infected with her stupid thoughts! She forced herself to turn away—
—and slammed muzzle-first into the bust ponnequin holding Coco’s collar and tie. Stumbling in the dark, wings flapping, she failed to stifle her momentum and was soon on the floor, trying to knock the thing away. It slammed against the wall, and she ended up pushing herself backwards against the bed, rocking it.
“W-whamzut?”
Lightning froze, hooves over her muzzle and eyes clenched tightly closed. Another sob was trying to get out. Her chest rocked with the effort to hold it in.
“Is somepony there?”
No. Nopony here. Just a pathetic wretch trying to squeeze her way under a bed far too low to fit anything larger than a toddler. Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Don’t look down!
Groggily, Coco asked, “Lightning? What are you doing in my room?”
No response. There was nothing she could say, nothing worthy of that pony’s ears. Her heart was filled with too much acid, her wings were too leaden. She was a little filly with broken wings, lying on the ground and staring up at clouds much too high to reach. A trembling, miserable piece of crap who shouldn’t be here.
“Lightning?”
She wasn’t here. She wasn’t!
Hooves on hardwood. One brushed Lightning’s mane from her face. Still she wouldn’t open her eyes. “Lightning, what’s wrong?”
That sweet, plaintive voice was too much for her soul to take. Her eyes opened, and in the shadows she found Coco kneeling over her. Mane akimbo, bags beneath her eyes, but face the epitome of concern. Coco could respond in no other way.
The shameful words forced themselves out. “We’re friends, right?”
Coco’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Wha—?”
Lightning’s body acted without her input, and Coco yelped as she was jerked down into a breath-stealing hug. Lightning pressed her face against the pony’s fluffy chest and choked out a sob. “Tell me we’re friends. T-tell me I’m worth that. Please. Please! Tell me you won’t abandon me.”
She babbled on for a while, not sure what she was saying and not caring. All she wanted was to hold on to the one pony who hadn’t turned her back so far. The world was a cold room with all the doors closed save one, and Lightning didn’t know what she would do if it slammed in her face like the others. So she held on, a hoof to the door, and begged for it to stay open, to give her an escape, to let her through.
Coco was holding her. At some point they’d ended up on the bed. She could feel the edge at her back and knew that the slightest motion in the wrong direction would find her on the floor. It felt almost childish, the little fear of that edge that made her cling even tighter to little Coco. But somehow she just knew that if she did fall off that edge, she would never get back up.
“It’s okay.” Coco was whispering in her ear, one hoof gently stroking her back. “It’s alright. I’m here.”
She had such a soft, wonderful voice. Lightning nuzzled Coco’s chest and trembled until she was lost to the world.
“I am so sorry.”
Coco, all smiles, merely pushed a plate in front of Lightning. There was toast smothered in some sort of steaming yellow sauce that smelled delightfully of rosemary and fig. It looked like it belonged on a restaurant’s advertisement. “I already told you, don’t worry about it.”
‘Don’t worry about it’, she said. As if any other reaction were remotely possible. Wings tight against her sides, Lightning trembled and stared at her breakfast. It looked delicious, but she couldn’t bring herself to take a bite. Coco was already settling opposite her at the table, her own identical plate at the ready. The little pony ate without hesitation, clearly relishing the homemade meal.
Lightning took in her beaming face and felt so… low. How could she brush off last night so easily? She was so cheerful and carefree. Were she anypony else, Lightning would have said she was an idiot and moved on. But she knew Coco well enough to understand that she was far from stupid.
She could take no more. Weakly, she asked, “Don’t you want an explanation?”
Coco paused to rub some sauce off her chin. Somehow she managed to look cute even then. “If I asked, would you answer?” At Lightning’s uncertain expression, she merely smiled. “You’re boisterous, Lightning, but you’re also a private pony. I respect that.” She resumed eating, as if that was all the answer that was required.
“B-but…” Lightning touched the edge of her toast with the tip of her hoof, sliding it around on her plate. “You should have kicked me out. I b-barged in on you and… and…” She closed her eyes, cheeks flushing with the lingering image of her breakdown.
Coco’s eyes grew soft. “What kind of friend would I be if I did that?”
Lightning stared at her for several long, uncomfortable seconds. The smile was unwavering, and a fresh warmth came to her. It wasn’t the usual angry flames of her anger, nor the heated uncertainty of not knowing what to do or say. It was a quiet, gradual feeling, something that eased the trembles and fought back the long-familiar chill. Lightning realized she was grinning, and saw no reason to stop.
After a surprisingly good breakfast the two retreated to the divan, where Lightning decided to explain the last twenty-four hours. She probably should have been furious, or maybe miserable, but the emotions wouldn’t come. There was still a pleasant buzz from breakfast that no amount of betrayal seemed capable of killing. Coco knitted a light blue scarf as she listened, demonstrating some incredible dexterity with her forehooves in the process.
“We were never—” Lightning paused. Tried again. “I mean, they—” She stared at her hooves and wished she could be angry right now. She knew how to be angry. This whole ‘calm and focused’ thing was untreaded ground. What was she even supposed to say? She knew Rolling Thunder and Short Fuse weren’t her friends. Still, she’d thought of them as… what, comrades? Like-minded souls? Crusaders for the same cause? Something that she’d thought bound them, made them have one another’s backs. She should have seen this betrayal coming, but somehow it had slipped right under her radar.
Coco offered a cautious, “Not that it absolves them, but maybe they were just fleeing the investigation?”
“If that was it, then why destroy all the equipment?” Lightning sighed and lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling while one wing hung loosely over the divan’s side.
“And yet you’re not pressing charges?”
“What’s the point?” Lightning shrugged. “Equipment would still be destroyed. They’d still be jerks.” Her ears perked. “I guess this is also going to make them look bad to the investigators. They’ve really stabbed themselves in the hoof with this stunt.”
Coco paused in her sewing. “Will that look bad for you?”
She hadn’t considered that. Lightning chewed her lip, then sat up straight again. “I dunno. Do you think it could?”
“I don’t think so? I’m not a lawyer.” Back to knitting. The subject dropped, which was oddly relieving.
Lightning watched her for a while, quietly amazed by how fluid and effective the little pony’s hooves were with the knitting needles. The very idea of knitting seemed so boring, but watching Coco do it was mesmerizing. Lightning doubted she’d ever be able to use her hooves like that.
They remained that way for a while. A slightly warm, comfortable, and lazy morning doing nothing but sitting around being in each others’ presence. Lightning tried making tea, thinking it could be a favor that would let Coco keep sewing. She was sure she brewed it too long. It was bitter, and she needed four spoonfuls of sugar just to make it tolerable. Coco didn’t seem to mind.
Lightning didn’t know how to be lazy. She found herself flying circles in the room. Not that she was anxious or frustrated or anything else unpleasant. She just felt more at ease with her hooves off the ground. It was still a relaxing time that, somehow, failed to be awkward for either of them.
“All done.” Coco neatly folded the finished scarf, a pleasant smile on her lips as Lightning turned to face her. “Here.” She threw the scarf in the air.
Instinct drove Lightning to dart forward, snatching the item just as it was cresting its arc. With a quick circle to slow her momentum, she came to a hover a few feet in front of her host, eyeing the scarf curiously. It was plain but warm, and soft as a cloud. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
The earth pony made that ridiculously cute giggle of hers. “You wear it, silly.”
Rolling her eyes, Lightning countered, “I know you wear them, but why give it to me?”
“They’re called ‘gifts’, Lightning.”
Lightning stared at the scarf. Unadorned and blue, but fairly long. She thought about how Coco had been working on it all morning and realized that there was no way she’d made the whole thing just now. This was a project of a few days. “You…” Lightning swallowed the lump forming in her throat. “For me? Why?”
“Because I wanted to?” Coco cocked her head, one ear flopping sideways. Lightning thought that she was going to get diabetes on the spot. Then Coco straightened her head and said, quietly, “With everything that’s been going on, I thought you’d like a reminder that at least one pony’s on your side. After last night, it seemed all the more important.”
Lightning took in that sheepish expression, then the scarf folded in her hooves. She landed gently and dropped to her haunches. The scarf was so soft and warm against her chest. That warmth was filtering through her entire body, a pleasant reminder of just how ‘good’ its maker was. It was just a dumb scarf, and yet…
“I-if you don’t like it, I can make something different.”
Damn that pony for making her feel this way. Lightning clutched the scarf tightly lest it be snatched away. “No! No. I like it. Th-thank you, Powder.”
A warm but wry smile slipped onto the earth pony’s lips. “So I’m ‘Powder’ again, am I?”
Lightning returned the smile. “Like powdered sugar. Oh-so sweet.”
“Cocoa’s sweet too, you know.”
“Not really.” Lightning shook her head, still holding the scarf tight to her chest. “You gotta add sugar and stuff to make chocolate sweet. It comes out bitter otherwise.” She began wrapping the scarf around her neck with a grin. “You’re all goody-goody sweet rot-my-teeth-out good just the way you are.”
Coco snorted, her cheeks gaining just the slightest hint of pink. “Now you’re just trying to embarrass me.” The smile didn’t go away, though.
The scarf secured, Lightning rubbed her forehooves together and looked at anything that wasn’t Coco. “So, uh…” Oh, Goddess, was she really going to ask this? Stupid butterflies doing stupid aerobatic routines in her stomach. Now was the right time, right? Maybe it wasn’t, but the urge was too strong to let it lie. It would probably be better to look her in the eye, but Lightning found herself unable to do so as the words slipped out. “I-if I, I dunno, asked you out. Hypothetically. W-would you say yes?”
Coco’s ‘slightest hint of pink’ swiftly upgraded to ‘steam radiating off her cheeks’. Her eyes shot open wide and her pupils shrank as she sputtered for several long, agonizing seconds. “Y-you’re asking m-me out on a date?”
“Hypothetically!” Lightning waved her hooves wildly. “I said hypothetically!”
“Nopony asks that question hypothetically!” Coco chewed on a hoof while the other fretted over her mane as though she feared it were unkempt. “Oh, dear. Oh, oh, dear. Um, w-well. I never thought about, uh…”
Lightning cringed and turned her head away, too embarrassed to feel distressed. “If you want to say ‘no’ you can just say ‘no’, you know?” A flinch; that sounded stupid even to her.
“I’m not saying, no!” Now it was Coco turning her superheated face away from Lightning’s hopeful look. “I’m not saying ‘yes’, either. This is just so sudden and I wasn’t prepared and I didn’t even know you liked me that way.”
Shows what Rarity knew. Lightning suddenly felt so very dumb for taking the damn mare’s advice, even if it was a spur-of-the-moment thing. More importantly, “What do you mean, you didn’t know? What about that one time I kissed you?”
“I’d just finished the flight suit!” Coco waved her hooves as if warding off an attack. “I thought it was just a burst of spontaneous excitement!”
“It wasn’t! I mean, yeah, it was, but it was also—” Lightning sputtered, the sentence too awkward to complete. “‘Ponies like Coco Pommel’ should be the default mode of thinking. Haven’t ponies asked you out before?”
“Once or twice? I always said no, though.”
“What?” All embarrassment vanished in an instant, traded with pure disbelief. “I halfway expected to have to go through some gauntlet of beating off potential suitors with an ugly stick just to stand a chance.”
Coco perked a lone ear along with an eyebrow, threatening to give Lightning a heart attack. “Have I mentioned you have a very strange imagination?”
“Don’t change the subject.” Lightning’s thoughts froze around a single horrible idea. “Oh, no. Have I ruined our friendship? Are we never going to be able to stand in the same room again without being all anxious and scared and weird?”
To that Coco choked out a strained laugh, once again trying to adjust a mane in no need of adjusting. “No, Lightning, I think our friendship is going to be just fine.” Her cheeks were no longer imitating a stop sign, but they were by no means back to normal. She made a show of checking her tie and collar, avoiding eye contact. “But at the same time, I don’t think I can answer your question right now. I never thought of dating you before. It’s something I need to think about.” Then she hit Lightning with those wide, pleading, heart-stopping eyes and asked, “Is th-that okay?”
Crap, why’d she have to stutter? The eyes and the pout were bad enough. Add the stutter and there could be no response other than, “Yeah, that’s cool.”
“Good.” Coco heaved a relieved sigh and began chewing on her hooftip again. She kept flicking glances at Lightning, who was too busy being glad she didn’t have to leave to speak up. She was also a bit distracted by how cuddly and cute Coco looked when she was anxious. “I figyuled—” Coco paused to take her hoof out of her mouth. “I figured you would be interested in more, erm, ‘rough and tumble’ ponies.”
Lightning chuckled and waved a hoof dismissively. “With my anger issues? No way. I’d be more likely to buck their heads off than anything.”
Another attempt to smooth a mane in no need of grooming. As quiet as always when she was nervous, Coco said, “I can’t imagine why you’d be interested in me, though.”
Soft, sweet, and delectable. Lightning decided that bringing up what she thought upon seeing Coco for the very first time wouldn’t help her odds much, so she tucked that away for potential use later. That she had the self-control to do so surprised her. It also gave her the answer she needed. Now if she could just say it in the right way. She closed her eyes and thought about her old… home.
Lightning climbed up on the divan, if only so she could be closer to Coco while this played out. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to take a few long, slow breaths. With each inhale, she opened her wings wide. With each exhale, she closed them tight against her sides.
“Lightning?”
Not opening her eyes, Lightning responded, “It’s an old calming exercise. Haven’t done it in over a year. It used to annoy the pin feathers off of me. It feels alright now.” She smiled at that. “You know they put me in a mental ward for four months?”
Coco said nothing. Perhaps she was being quiet out of respect. Or maybe it was horror. No way to know without opening her eyes. Lightning didn’t. Seeing Coco’s reaction might poke a hole in her sudden bout of comfort.
Instead, she kept talking. “Anger issues. Lots and lots of anger issues. The labcoats said I had some sort of chemical imbalance. No medicine for it, so they taught me a bunch of de-stressing techniques. Doesn’t stop me from being angry, but it at least lets me direct it in productive ways. Usually.”
At last, she opened her eyes. She found she was smiling, and saw no reason to stop. Coco was listening with rapt attention, curious rather than worried. Most ponies would have been worried. Lightning was used to worried, or even afraid. That Coco only appeared curious made her feel all warm and gooey. “I’m not angry. I’m just…” She paused to look around, seeking inspiration for the right word. Taking in the warmth of the apartment, the soft divan, the unfamiliar familiarity of it all, she settled on, “Comfortable.
“That’s the thing.” Lightning brought her grin back to Coco. “I don’t get angry around you, and if I do it’s never ‘at’ you. Don’t ask me to explain how that works, but it’s got to mean something. Or, well…” She kneaded the divan, feeling a little heat come to her cheeks. That was happening a lot today. “I want it to mean something.”
Coco moved forward, taking hold of Lightning’s hooves. It had to be some kind of irony that that smile was going to lead to Lightning’s inevitable tooth decay. “Regardless of what happens between us, you’re always welcome to come by and calm down. Whenever you need it. I’m happy to help, Lightning.”
Lightning held on tight to those dainty hooves. She felt so warm and pleasant. If she held on to those hooves, maybe she could feel this way forever. “Thanks, Powder.” She lowered her head, resting it against Coco’s shoulder. “Really. Thanks.”
The double doors opened with a bang so loud it could probably be heard clear across Cloudsdale. An irritated voice shouted at Lightning’s back. “You’ll have to pay for that, Miss Dust!”
She glared over her shoulders at the trio of robed ponies on their dumb bench and snarled, “Add it to my tab!” Ignoring their glowers, she stomped through the hallway towards the courthouse’s exit. Splintering another door would have been nice, but a splotch of white in the corner of her eye stopped her in her tracks. There was a familiar face, sitting on a bench and watching her pass with a hooftip between her teeth. “Coco? They’re done with you already?”
The young mare stood up, every step stiff with caution on the cloud floor. “Y-yes. My hearing was over in only ten minutes. Are you okay?”
That worried frown doused the remaining molten metal in Lightning’s veins. She performed a flapping hop to close the distance and set a hoof on the mare’s shoulder. “Hey, hey, relax. Don’t worry, the cloudwalking spell’s still got a whole two days before it wears off.”
Coco trembled in place, tail tucked between her legs. “I will relax when my hooves are back on solid ground and not a second sooner, thank you very much.”
Rolling her eyes, Lightning turned so she was side-by-side with the pony and wrapped a wing around Coco’s withers. The little earth pony wasted no time leaning heavily against her. “Why the heck didn’t you accept their offer to do your hearing in Manehattan?” The shaking didn’t go away entirely, but they were much less alarming now. As much as Lightning wanted to ditch this bureaucratic Tartarus of a building, she figured Coco could go a little longer without seeing exactly how high up they were.
Coco gave Lightning a little nuzzle of thanks. “They didn’t make you that offer, and somepony had to be here for you. Now stop changing the subject. How’d it go?”
For a fleeting instant, the anger tried to bubble up again. It died as soon as it arose, held back by the warm, soft presence under her wing. That left Lightning to stare at the ground with a sigh. “Could have been worse. Fines. Some community service. Some dumb safety classes.” That last one made her sigh again. She always hated taking classes of any kind.
Sounding somewhat perplexed, Coco replied, “That already sounds pretty bad.”
Lightning gave out a half-hearted chuckle. “At least it’s not ‘banished and imprisoned in the place you were banished to.’” No point bringing up the entirely unnecessary restraining order. She raised her head to one-eye Coco. “What about you?”
Coco shrugged. “They let me off with a small fine and a warning to be more careful with my clients in the future. A slap on the hoof, really.” A small voice noted how nice it must be to have friends in high places, but Lightning stamped it down with prejudice. She was pretty sure they were going easy on her too, after all.
“So,” Coco asked, “what happens now?”
Indeed, what now? Lightning sat, the motion pulling Coco down with her, and stared at nothing. “I don’t know. Everything I’ve worked for is gone, and I’ll never get the bits to try again.” That should have pissed her off. Maybe if she wasn’t with Coco she’d be spewing out swears and kicking at walls. She gave the earth pony another little squeeze, grateful for her presence.
That didn’t stop something heavy from weighing down her shoulders. “I’ve got nothing now. No Wonderbolts, no Washouts, no prospects for any of the things I got my cutie mark for. I…” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
Another gentle nuzzle from Coco. “We’ll figure it out, okay? Together.” Lightning couldn’t think of what to say to that. Her mind was in a fog of uncertain thoughts and lingering doubts, making it hard to think beyond an unpleasant refrain of ‘Now what?’
Then Coco offered a timid, “You can move in with me.”
The suggestion was like a shot of adrenaline. Lightning jolted into a standing position. Coco let out a startled squeak and rolled sideways at the motion, landing in an undignified lump. “What? You want me to live with you?”
Coco, on her back and hooves in the air, gave her a bewildered look. “Yes?”
The idea was so ludicrous that Lightning could offer only a befuddled, “Why?” Her cheeks heated as she reminded herself, again and again, It’s not what you think, it’s not what you think, it’s not what you think!
Righting herself with a quiet grunt, Coco allowed herself a moment to straighten her mane and tail before answering. “You don’t have a job, right? And you rent. If you stay with me you can save bits for a lot longer.”
The air that had been trapped in Lightning’s lungs for the last thirty seconds fled in a single long exhale. It wasn’t what she’d thought. How… disappointing. “I can’t impose on you like that.”
“Says the pony who snuck into my bedroom once already.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me,” she whined through her burning cheeks. The fact that she could legitimately call it a whine made it all the more humiliating. “What happens when I run out of money and I’m just freeloading off you?”
Prim and proper, Coco shook her head. “I don’t think that will happen. I’m sure we can find something for you to do in Manehattan. Maybe you can be a weather pony.”
That was probably meant to be encouraging. Lightning bowed her head and covered it with a wing, feeling like a foal all the while. Was that what she’d be reduced to? A mere weather pony? All her skills, all her talents, being used for something so mundane as corralling clouds. Worse, it was probably her best option. They might as well make her wear a big, neon-orange vest with big, shiny letters saying ‘NOPONY’ on the back.
Perhaps sensing her disdain, Coco added a blasé “Being a weather pony can’t be that bad.”
Lightning scowled at her. “Then I suppose you’d be satisfied spending the rest of your life making skirt adjustments instead of designing entire outfits?”
The filly hesitated, ears folding back for only a moment, but then she frowned and came back with, “I don’t think that analogy is accurate.”
“I don’t care if my analogies are accurate,” Lightning groaned and slumped. “I can’t do what I was born to do.”
“We’ll find something for you, Lightning.” Coco set a hoof to her shoulder and offered one of those heart-melting smiles. Lightning’s tail flicked. “Together.”
Darn that pony, she could turn a bad mare good. Coco’s hoof had no business feeling so nice. Huffing to distract from the heat in her face, Lightning stood and made for the door. “Let’s blow this joint and get you on the ground.”
The earth pony wasted no time matching her stride. “Yes. Ground is good. Right away if at all possible.”
Lightning could feel the wicked grin forming. “I could always carry you down.”
“No!” A beat. “No. That’s alright. One of the chariots is fine. Um, thank you.”
“Spoilsport.”
They stepped out of the courthouse and into Cloudsdale proper. Granted, it was only ‘Cloudsdale proper’ by pegasus standards. Not twenty steps from the front door was open sky. The same open sky surrounded the entire building. Cloudsdale had never been a single cloudmass, after all. Oh, Jetstream Row was hovering pretty close today, just a little above them. Lightning briefly considered suggesting they go to one of the restaurants there. Then she remembered she was on finite funds. The fact that Coco had gone a few shades paler at the sight of the edge of the clouds put the final nail in that idea’s coffin. So much for romantic spontaneity.
They found an available sky-chariot and paid for a ride to the train station below. As the two pegasi drivers lifted off, Coco edged closer to Lightning and gripped her hoof tight, trembling all the while. The little mare’s eyes were clenched tightly shut. She responded by pulling a wing around the filly and holding her close. It didn’t seem to help much, to her chagrin.
Coco needed a distraction and Lightning wanted to talk about it anyway. So… “Hey. Uh, about me staying with you.”
A lone eye cracked open, Coco giving her a sidelong glance. “W-what about it?”
“Don’t you think the idea’s a little…” Lightning shifted in place, then turned her attention to the clouds. “I m-mean, I have a crush on you. Living under the same roof might be—” What? Awkward? Strange? Uncomfortable?
“A-are you saying that you’d ‘take advantage’ of my generosity?”
Did she just make a naughty joke? Lightning looked down at the filly. She was still trembling, but she also had a smile that was at least attempting to be smug. Lightning could only gawk.
After a few seconds, Coco’s smile faded. She pressed her cheek to Lightning’s side, making the pegasus tense up. It’s not what you’re thinking, it’s not what you’re thinking, it’s not what you’re thinking…
“I’ve been thinking.”
Lightning twitched, the muscles in her neck too taut to allow for anything more. Keeping her gaze fixed firmly on the sky in front of them, she managed to squeeze out a raspy, “Thinking?”
“Thinking.” Coco reached up to rub the tip of her hoof on Lightning’s chest, parting the fur slightly. The sensation sent shivers up and down Lightning’s spine. “Want to make a deal?”
Part of Lightning wanted to push the hoof away and stop those frustratingly delightful shivers. Another part, no less loud, wished it would never stop. A much quieter third part was giving her the equally terrifying and exciting realization that Coco had to know exactly what she was doing. “W-what kind of deal?”
“One month.” Somehow Coco was able to state this without any of her heights-induced anxiety coming through. She sounded almost like her boss for a moment. “You get a job in one month. Then you keep it for a month. You do that and I’ll…” She paused, ears folding back. She rolled her eyes up to meet Lightning’s gaze, offering a tentative smile as she did. “I’ll give ‘us’ a chance.”
Sweet Celestia, that expression could make all modern interrogation methods obsolete. Lightning had to fiercely swallow down the desire to shout ‘yes!’ at the top of her lungs. “A-and if that doesn’t happen, does that mean I’d have to find another place to stay?”
“Oh, no.” Coco shook her head. “You can stay as long as you need to. But this gives us time.”
Lightning wanted to relax. The hooftip had stopped tracing circles in her fur and she might have a place to stay, provided she was willing to put up with the awkwardness. But Coco was still pressed tightly against her. Yes, it was because of the whole heights thing. That didn’t stop Lightning’s inner filly from cutting flips. “Give us time for what?”
Coco pulled back. Not much, but enough that Lightning’s wings stopped feeling quite so stiff. She spoke earnestly, with another of those nice little smiles. “I gather that you think I’m cute, and I appreciate that. But how well do we really know one another?”
The answer came readily. “Well enough to know that you’ll stand by me when I need you.” Lightning offered a smile of her own. “That’s a pretty big deal for me.” Seeing that Coco was expecting more, she hesitated and tried to think of what else to say. “Um, you’re patient. At least with me. And you’re nice. You like to make clothes?” Resorting to fashion? Luna’s fine flank, she was already grasping at straws. The thought sent an unpleasant wave of doubt through her.
“I think you see my point.” Coco gave a prim nod, pausing to brush some hair the wind blew into her face. “But if we live together for a while, we’ll have no choice but to learn what we do and don’t like about each other. Can you think of a better way to test our compatibility?”
Lightning opened her mouth. Closed it. Tried to imagine what it might be like having to face Coco every day, all the time, with all of her own many flaws coming to light. The image was daunting. Intimidating.
It had her grinning. “How did you know I like a challenge?”
Author's Note
Every day I go into my files and pick two characters. Those characters then become the theme of my desktop's slideshow background. Why two characters? Because then I can include those sweet, sweet shipping pics. Which two characters I have on any given day is random, literally determined by a roll of the dice. One day, the dice gave me the combo of Lightning Dust and Coco Pommel, and this idea was born.
Let's be real: Using this system allows me to envision all kinds of weird and unexpected ships, many of which don't have any artwork at all. With that kind of stimulus, you'd think I'd have story ideas for this kind of thing all the time. And you'd be right. I usually don't bother to act on them for no other reason than a lack of time. What was so different about this one? Well, for starters, the pairing came up while Bicyclette's 2022 Crackship Contest was still ongoing, and I thought the pairing fitting (alas, I didn't finish by the deadline). The other reason is that, with apologies to Fluttershy, I consider Coco Pommel to be the single cutest pony in all of Equestria and I really wanted to write a story featuring her.
So here we are! I don't consider this to be of the same quality as some of my other stories, but it was written entirely for the fun of it and in that aspect I am immensely satisfied.
