Life Finds a Way

Wednesday, December 24th, 908 AB (3 days later)

Cure comes to wakefulness and finds himself in the middle of a three parent pile and completely covered by a blanket. He and Vines are on their right sides with his back against her tummy, dock pressed against her teats, and head resting sandwiched between her forelegs.

Pony teats, when not lactating, aren’t really treated in any special way. They lack the cultural significance and sexual associations that human mammaries gained, probably because they aren’t front and, nearly, center in any face to face interaction. They’re also normally very small; barely noticeable, really. Still, they are a somewhat intimate area due to their proximity to their crotch even if all of that is routinely visible to everypony.

Public feeding of a foal is culturally acceptable, though some mares do use a blankie since they are basically laying on their side with a leg hiked. Unlike horses, Equus foals are not born tall enough to easily reach their dam’s udders, though within a few days they are strong enough to sit up and lean against a back leg if there’s a reason the dam can’t lay down.

As the months have passed since his memories have come in, Cure’s re-acclimated to having everything out there basically all the time, so rather than be weirded out or anything, he happily accepts the tight embrace for exactly what it is; a dam holding her baby close to her body to share warmth and love.

Deed is just in front of Cure facing him and Vines, body going the same direction, thankfully. He’s a little lower in the bed, so Cure has to really resist the urge to reach out and give him a snoot boop since messing with somepony when they’re sleeping is a total dick move, and one of the few things that, under most circumstances, fully warrants a whoopin. The other big “no no” for him is somepony messing with his food, of course.

Title somehow ended up laying crosswise with everypony else. Her swollen baby bump is serving as a hat for his sire with her back legs running down his back and tail coming up over her right haunch and covering most of his neck. She’s also serving as a pillow for Vines with the green mare’s head and neck resting on his mom’s left foreleg, the right one draped over top and her hoof just a couple centimeters in front of his face. She’s the only one not fully covered by the blanket with her face poking out for fresh air. Thankfully, she hasn’t given the entire family a collective Dutch Oven. Yet.

Drifting back to sleep while thinking about his parents’ presents, Cure doesn’t realize his excited wiggle is rousing his dam.

Sighing, she gently teases, “Somepony has a wiggly booty,” while rolling onto her back, dragging Cure along for the ride. She looks up, plants a kiss on Title’s neck, then drags Cure up her chest enough to nuzzle into his mane. “Good morning, sweetheart. Happy Hearth’s Warming Eve.”

Cure happily leans back into the nuzzle, grabs her forelegs, and wraps them even tighter around himself. “Happy Hearth’s Warmin, dam. Love you,” he says, tail wagging below him. “Wanna go make breakfast then wake up the slackers to open presents?”

“I’m awake,” Title sighs. “Happy Hearth’s Warming Eve babe, honey.”

“Yup, me too,” Deed yawns out, leaning closer to plant a smooch on Vines’ and Cures’ faces. He rolls to his barrel and crawls to lay partially on Title, first planting smooches on her baby bump, then kissing all over her neck and face, despite her efforts to push him away.

“Argh! Get offa me ya damn horse!”

“Aww, I love you too, babe! Happy Hearth’s Warmin!” With one last big slobbery kiss on an eyebrow, Deed dismounts the mare and climbs off the bed, dragging the blanket on his withers so everypony’s exposed to the chilly air. He drops it off to the side with a smirk, then hightails it out of the room towards the potty when he gets three nasty glares sent his way.

“Ugh, there’s always at least one of those kinda ponies, isn’t there?” Cure complains. “Well come on, dam. Let’s go see how naughty or nice we’ve all been.” Cure carefully rolls off his dam, turns around, plants a big kiss on her cheek, then repeats Deed’s performance with his mom, much to her consternation and Vines’ amusement.

After horning up and addressing the urgent needs he runs down the steps and gets all the warming crystals started, then gets the oven and stovetop preheating. Cure gets water started for tea, then lays out an entire loaf of bread he’d bought just for this on a couple baking sheets. The recipe is as fast and as easy as it gets, so it’ll be ready right about when the slower parents come down.

After tossing a couple sticks of butter in a bowl he mixes in brown sugar, cinnamon, a bit of vanilla extract, and just a dash of nutmeg. Once the spread is thoroughly mixed he coats the bread, making a poor man’s French Toast, and slides it into the oven, then floats four plates out of the pantry along with some mugs and a cup for his milk.

After hitting the bowl with a cleaning cantrip he cracks six eggs and drops a dollop of butter in a pan to get it melted and coat the bottom and sides. While that warms up he cuts up some spinach and peppers, then, with a whisk in hoof, he beats the eggs up and, once the butter gets melted enough, pours them into the skillet.

Deed is the first to arrive, stopping by to give his son a kiss on his head just above the horn. “Smells good, sport. Whatchya making? I smell cinnamon in there,” he says, cracking the oven door to peek in.

“Yup, just some basic cinnamon toast and some scrambled eggs with spinach and peppers, pa. It’s a quick and easy, perfect for when everypony wants a snack to hold over until something a little more filling is ready.”

“It smells wonderful, sweetie,” his dam calls from the bottom of the stairs. “I’ll finish the eggs, you get some trivets for the toast.” Title comes in right behind her and gives him a peck on his cheek before sitting down at the table.

Cure passes the spatula off to his dam and digs in a drawer until he finds four trivets, laying them out on the table. He peeks in on the toast from beside his dam and finds that it should be in just a moment, so he waits patiently while snuggling into her side. “Love you, dam.”

Vines bends over to plant a quick peck on his head. “Are you okay, sweetie? You look a little down.”

“Yeah… I’m fine. This time of year comes with a lot of memories, ya know?” he explains, brushing a tear off his cheek.

Vines wraps her left foreleg around him and smushes him into her side. “I’m sure it’s not easy, honey. You just stay with your dam all day, okay? I’m right here for you, baby.”

“I know,” he says, nuzzling her side.

After a quiet, but quick breakfast the family is gathered by the tree. The family had gotten comments from almost every visitor that had stopped by over the past week, as the presents Cure got for his parents were all physically large. He’d had the sense to not label the packages, though, since he didn’t want to embarrass his parents when the packages with his name on them were smaller.

He didn’t really want his parents to buy him anything at all, and he’d insisted that every bit they earn should be spent on either themselves or on Title’s foal that’s due in about a month. Still, the foal part of his brain was very excited about the prospect of opening a couple presents, even if he couldn’t think of a single thing he thought he needed.

With three eager parents watching he started off with the smallest of the items under the tree, or rather, in it. An envelope, to be specific, poking out of one of the lower branches. “What’s this?” he asks, as he opens it and finds a half dozen slips of paper and several other sheets folded up. “Tickets?”

“Read em, sport,” his sire calls, rolling his eyes at the colt.

“Wonderbolts?! You got me Wonderbolts tickets! NICE!”

“Yer dam went around ‘n talked to the parents of yer friends to find out how many would be willin ta go to one of the shows. Not everypony’s okay bein offa the ground like that, after all. Be sure to thank Mrs. Dance next time ya see her; she’s the one that talked ta Glacial’s dam ta make sure she’ll be available.”

“He’s right, sweetie. Diamond said that little Ferric is just terrified of heights, so she won’t be going along. Delta Coast and Sapphire Sprint also, unfortunately. You should have seen Heavy when his mom talked to him about it,” she finishes with a giggle. “He looked a little wary but didn’t want to leave you alone with a bunch of fillies.”

“HA! Well these are for their spring opener in May, so if he’s really worried about it maybe Solar will be back and can come along instead. What’s all the other paperwork in here?”

“That’s what we thought too, honey,” Title explains. “You’ll find a hotel voucher in there too, along with some papers from the rail agency that can be redeemed for tickets. Other than food we’ve got it all planned out. Your sire volunteered to play chaperone.”

“That’s awesome! Thanks a bunch, everypony!” he shouts, giving each a big hug and a kiss. “Umm… I’m not sure what to have you all open first. I kinda got two ‘sets’ of gifts… a set for the family and then something for each of you. Wanna do the family ones first?”

“That sounds wonderful, sweetie… who should open what?”

“Oof… I’m not sure. Dad, how about we let the ladies do these, okay?” he asks, getting a nod and a “go ahead” wave from his sire. “Alright, mom, you come open this one,” he says, pointing to the taller, but narrower of the two, “and dam, you take this one, okay? Now try to open them at the same time because I think once one of you sees what’s in there you’ll know what both are.”

Vines moves into position next to the shorter, but bigger box while Title looks over, standing next to hers, ready to tear it open. Cure climbs on his sire’s back to enjoy the show as the pair nod to each other and grab the paper, tearing the front panels off at the same time. The boxes that the appliances come in are very plain, brown boxes, but each one still has a picture of the contents inside of it, so they both know exactly what they’re looking at as soon as they tear enough away.

Their reactions are identical. Cure gets to see both of them cover their mouths with a hoof at the same time, then look to make sure the other has what they expected.

“Oh sweetie! You spent too much! You shouldn’t have done all that!” He has to hold in a snort because his dam, while saying that, is running a hoof along the box and staring lovingly at the unit like somepony’s about to come take it away.

“Hey wait a second, why’d you have me open the refrigerator?” Title asks, shooting him a scowl.

“C’mon now, mom,” he starts rolling his eyes and, with a wave at the units, asks, “which of those two are you gonna use more?”

“Hey! Well… yeah, I guess. Wow it’ll be really nice to finally have a real refrigerator though! I’ve never had one before…”

“Wow, very nice, son. I figured we’d hold off ‘till we moved, but if yer sure ya don’t mind I think ya made yer moms, and me, of course, very happy.”

“Perfect! I couldn’t ask for anything better for Hearth’s Warming. Don’t forget, I have a smaller present for each one of you too,” he reminds them, motioning to the three packages.

“Well ya gotta have a turn first, champ. Go grab ya a box over there,” Deed insists, waving at the tree. Cure hops down and grabs one that’s about half as big as he is. Turning to face the parents, who have gone back to snuggle on his side, he peels the paper off and nearly falls over at what he finds.

“NO WAY! They have these here?!?” he shouts, tail wagging so hard his back hooves are coming off the floor. Cure launches at his startled sire like a rocket, the stallion barely catching him before he realizes his son has negated his mass, to his relief. “Thank you so much! Oh I can’t believe I can finally have coffee again!” he shouts, planting kisses all over his parents’ faces.

“What do you mean by ‘they have these here’ Cure?” Title asks. “You had coffee when we went to Canterlot.”

“Right, but this is an actual Mr. Coffee! That’s exactly the same brand as the unit from my memories! This one’s a bit of an older model and runs on magic, but, ya know, pony technology and all. Here, look!” he says, projecting an image of the coffee maker Edward had, then changing the image to show Ed putting the filter in, adding water, and pouring the grounds in.

“Nice! Reusable filter included! Oh this is so awesome! Thanks everypony! Now I need to grow some beans and figure out how to roast ‘em. I can’t wait! OH! Do you think that bakery in town sells beans? I know they have coffee there!”

Vines reaches out and grabs the colt, pulling him to her chest and nuzzling into him. “Sweetie! Take a breath! You still have other packages to open.”

“Right! Right! Okay, I’m good. Oh man, I’ve been DYING for some coffee though!” Pausing, he corrects himself, “Okay, maybe that’s not the best way for me to say it, but you know what I mean.”

“Stars have mercy on us if you’re this energetic without it…” Title sighs.

“Wait! You need to open your presents! Here!” he excitedly shouts, grabbing the three boxes and passing the right one to each parent and sitting in front of them to watch their reactions.

The three open their packages at the same time finding three sets of fancy looking faux leather saddlebags. Each one is emblazoned with the parents’ cutie mark in the middle of each side, then the other threes’ marks across the bottom with room for more.

They’re very nice bags, but not something any of the parents expected. He sits and quietly watches with a mischievous smile the whole time they’re looking them over. Title spots the look and narrows her eyes at the colt. “Okay, we’re missing something here. Is there something inside these?” she asks, peeking inside and finding them empty.

“Nope, not a thing, I don’t think,” he answers, grin widening and booty shaking more vigorously.

“Okay… Well, they’re very nice, honey. Thank you.” she says.

“I still think you should check inside to make sure there’s nothing in there, mom. Ya never know, right? Go ahead and reach on in there,” he says, waving a shooing hoof, “try the left one.”

“OH MY STARS!” Vines yells, startling the other two and drawing their attention. She’s reaching into her bag, but her leg is disappearing from the knee down.

“You’re not serious!” Title shouts, flipping her left saddlebag open and sticking her hoof in, experiencing the same effect. “Sun and stars, Cure! How much did you spend on these?!”

Sat on his haunches he waves both forehooves side to side, “Not as much as you’re thinking; those are their basic units and only one side has the enchantment. They’re not cheap, of course. More expensive ones have more security features, or are bigger, but I figured we aren’t transporting diamonds or anything, so there’s no reason to get the deluxe models.”

Between the appliances and the saddlebags he’d spent just under twenty thousand bits, but he’d also made nearly ninety grand, by his estimate, over the last two months. Much of that was due to the increase in his prices for the deaging treatment, something that was bringing him anywhere from five to twelve and a half grand every week. He knows that’s a once and done procedure, at least for a while, so eventually that well will dry up, but not for a very long time at two to five ponies per week.

“Damn, son… I wish ya hadn’t spent that much on yer pa, but I sure do appreciate it. That’ll be super helpful fer stayin organized. How much can this thing hold?”

“Each bag can hold ten times its physical volume. Dam, that should save you from having to use that cart for most things you go into town for, at least as long as they can fit in the opening. If you put something in there and reach back in you should get that same feeling you get when you’re using an enchanted crystal. You just pull the item back out.

“For your two,” he says, motioning to his mom and sire, “you’ll want to maybe put associated files inside of a color coded folder or something, that way you can reach in and get a visual for ‘green folder’ or whatever and get the right set of papers. Customers’ cutie marks may be as good of an identifier as color, so you’ll wanna experiment some.

“Mom, I’m sure that’ll be super helpful for both you and dam when my siblings are littles and ya gotta carry a bunch of extra stuff around.”

“I don’t know what to say, Cure… this is way beyond anything I thought I’d ever own,” Title softly says, looking in her bags.

Walking up to the pink mare, he wraps her in a hug and plants a gentle kiss on her cheek, softly saying, “Mansion in the sky, ma. We’re just getting started. You’ll see one day, I promise,” with a nuzzle.

Returning the love she nods along. “I’m really starting to believe that wasn’t an exaggeration.”

“Good! I’ll definitely need help getting us there. I’ll tell ya, getting crap like this done when you’re a foal is a pain in the rear. Thank Harmony that Cutie Marks are an acceptable form of identification because the bank teller looked ready to toss me out the door when I told her I needed a certified check.”

“How did ya pull this off, sport? I know ya didn’t order all this when we went there before my grandsire’s.”

“So I got the idea when I went with Solar and Dawn that day we ran into those muggers, right? You know how Mr. Haze helped me put up lighting in my office area? When we were working on that I told him about how I was shoppin for everypony and asked if he could do me a big favor sometime and take me over to Early’s since I wasn’t able to go by myself.

“We made a detour the next time we were goin to the gym to get a price quote and draw up the order form, then the next day he went with me to the bank to get the certified check. It was a good thing I asked him instead of Solar, cause like I said, that teller was ready to toss me out.

“With the XO of the town guard right there vouching for my identity she really didn’t have any reason to argue, so she gave me the check and he dropped it along with the order form off at Early’s and brought me a receipt a few days later.”

“Huh. I’ll hafta thank ‘em next time I see him.”

“Yeah, dad, he’s actually pretty nice. I think he’s one of those that just takes a while to warm up to somepony before they start talking much. I think I’m gonna have Velvet Stitch make a set of PJs for him and Emerald as thanks. I’d get Solar a set too but by the time he’ll be able to use them he’ll probably have grown a hoof or more and be back from Basic.”

“You have a couple more, Cure. I feel a little silly with those, though, compared to what you got us.”

“I’m a walking bioprinter, mom, don’t worry about it,” he insists, picking up a package. “I hope you all realize that by this time next year there simply won’t be anything to get me. Don’t go giving yourselves white hairs trying to come up with some perfect gift because, odds are, if I want something bad enough I’ll probably go out and buy it. Especially once I’m an adult.”

Tearing the pack open he’s just as excited to find an old fashioned, at least from an earthling’s view, coffee grinder. “HA! Awesome! Do I dare guess what the third package is?” he asks with a big smile.

“I dunno, sweetie,” Vines teases, “I can’t imagine you might be able to guess what’s in there.”

“Let’s see!” he says, tearing the packaging off the box and opening it to find a bag of Canterlot’s Finest coffee beans, ready to be ground and brewed. “Oh this is the best Hearth’s Warming yet!” he happily shouts.

“You have one more from us, sweetie,” Vines says, pulling a small box out from under the tree. “Now don’t get your hopes up; this is something I made just for you, so it’s not a big deal.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it, dam. Thanks!” Cure opens the last box and, inside, finds something he hadn’t expected. His very own Santa Hat, crocheted by his dam. “Aww! It’s perfect, dam!” he says, slipping it on over his horn. He has to recline the horn slightly so the hat stays upright at the correct angle, but it still works perfectly. “Hey neat! I could actually just wear this over the horn and nopony would know it’s there!”

“That sounds like a terrible idea, Cure.”

“Yeah, sport, you’ve already run outside with that thing on a couple times. I could see ya pull yer hat off in school forgettin the horns on yer head. Then what?”

“I pull the horn off too and play it off as a prank?”

Pausing in thought, Deed slowly nods, “That would probably work pretty well. Still, best not ta risk it. Now, your great grandsire sent ya somethin too. He says it’s from all’a them, so go ahead ‘n grab that last one and open ‘er up.”

Cure finds the small package way under the tree, and while keeping his tail tucked down, backs his rear out from under it, box in hoof. “Huh… feels like it has some weight to it. I hope he didn’t get me a tiny brick. Unless it’s gold, I guess.” He tears off the paper to find a jewelry box, further confusing him.

When he opens the box his eyes go as wide as saucers. “Holy schnikes! A freakin pocket watch!” he shouts, pulling the watch out of the box. “Wait… it feels enchanted… Illusion?” he confusedly asks, then activates the enchantment, projecting a digital readout of the time directly over the watch’s lid. “NO WAY! Oh man! That’s awesome!”

“Damn, son… that’s a Tartarus of an expensive watch ya got there. Grandpa said to read the instructions, too. He said it’s important.”

Cure digs the slip of paper out of the box and unfolds it. “Wow… I got a feeling that this is like a ten thousand bit watch or more. It’s blood-bound. Only direct relations can open the lid or use the illusion crystal. I saw options like that available on those bags, but they were… pricey. To say the least. If this ever gets lost or stolen the jewelry store he got it from can track it down, too.”

“You should write out a thank you card, sweetie. That’s a very thoughtful gift. I didn’t even know such a thing existed.”

“I’ve heard of them, but you’re right. That is an insanely expensive present, Cure. Then again, you did de-age four of them and heal another, so I guess I can understand it.”

“Yep! I need to write a nice note to all of ‘em. A coffee maker, a fancy watch, and Wonderbolts tickets… I never expected all that. Whatta ya say, pa, you feel up to doin some home appliance installation today or you wanna just relax in a big snuggle pile for a little bit first?”

“Snuggle piles always come first, son. Always,” he insists with a firm nod.

“I can’t argue with that,” Cure agrees, trotting over and collapsing on his side between his sire’s hooves. “Happy Hearth’s Warming Eve, mom, dam, dad. I love you all more than anything!”

After the required snuggles were completed Deed and Cure began work on the “installation” of the purchased appliances while the mares supervise from a safe distance.

It only takes a moment for Cure to come to the conclusion that ponies are complete bullshit. Not only is there no wiring, but the ridiculous strength and ability to lift and move things with a horn make it a real struggle to hold back cursing at the utter pain in the ass doing anything similar used to be in his memories.

Swapping out the units took less than ten minutes, most of which was finding the anchor points that held the old unit in place. There’s no wiring, no gas lines, no nothing. Simply pull the unit forward, then lift up and the old one comes out. Line up the new unit with the ground anchors, set it on there, and slide it back so the anchors are stuck in the groove.

It’s about as difficult as taking down one picture off of a wall and hanging another in its place. Easier, actually, since Cure didn’t have to cram his face against the wall and try to stick too-fat fingers behind the picture to make sure the little triangle hook thing caught the nail.

“This is utter cow manure,” he says. “No wonder ponies are so freakin happy! Magic makes everything a cinch. You have no freaking idea how much worse that would be if we were all human.”

“Can’t say I do, sport. How bad would it’a been?”

“Well first off, we would have had to go flip a circuit breaker to make sure the electricity in the whole kitchen was off, then we would have had to figure out how in the hay the old one is anchored in place. I don’t know how human stoves are since I have no memories of changing one out, but I assume they’re screwed in somehow.

“That’s where the unicorn aura really shines, though, ‘cause all I had to do was get the horn low enough and I could ‘see’ under the thing where it was anchored. They have little cameras that are on the end of cords that you can snake down into tight places, but those things are new… at least, the kinds that normal people can buy. They have had units like that for medical purposes for a while, at least.”

“Medical purposes?” Title asks.

“Yeah, colonoscopies or endoscopy. Colonoscopies friggin suuuucked. Ya hafta chug a ton of this junk that made ya crap your brains out so yer poop shute’s all clean for when they cram a damn camera up there and check ya out. They don’t knock ya out for that either, just kinda put you into a daze they call twilight, which really just means you don’t feel a lot of pain but you get to keep the memory of having a camera shoved up your rear.”

His mom’s covering her mouth with a hoof, trying not to laugh while also being mortified. Deed has no compunctions though and is laughing uproariously. “That sounds awful,” she agrees.

“Yeah, I swear that damn thing went so far I thought they were tryin to check my teeth from behind. I think that doc just had some kinda fetish or somethin.”

“Cure!”

“What, dam? A human’s intestines are like five meters long and that bitch must have mapped out every centimeter of ‘em. You’d think she was lookin for gold deposits or somethin. They insisted they only went through the large intestine but it sure didn’t feel like it. The whole friggin time they were pumpin air like I was a damn deflated tire too. Good God, the sounds…

“Ugh… glad I never have to deal with that crap again. You’re welcome, everypony! Happy Hearth’s Warming! You’ll never need a camera with a cord twice the length of our kitchen table rammed up your plot.”

Barely getting it out through the giggles, Title agrees wholeheartedly. “And I thought the bags were a nice present.”

“What can I say, Clark? That’s the gift that keeps on giving the whole year.”

Deed raises a brow to his son. “Clark?”

“Classic Christmas movie reference, dad. I need to get my hooves on the Major Illusion spell so I can show you some actual moving picture scenes. Your pony brains would explode if I played some of the awesome movies I’ve seen. Of course, being today and all, I’d have to start off with the greatest Christmas movie of all time. Die Hard.”

“That title doesn’t sound very merry, son.”

“It’s great, dad. It’s this movie about a cop that’s visiting his wife’s job on Christmas day and a bunch of terrorists or thieves or whatever take over the building they’re in, so of course he’s gotta kill ‘em all, ya know? The only good thief is a dead one, after all.”

“Cure!”

“What? Thieves suck, dam. Back in the good ‘ol days they used to cut their hands off. Nopony better steal my stuff. I swear, anypony comes for that watch or coffee maker it’s gonna be on like Donkey Kong. I’ll show ‘em where every pain nerve in their body is, I’ll tell you what.”

Title rubs her forehead and, with an annoyed look, calls to the colt. “Cure… you’re being stupid.”

“Duh. I’m just teasin. I wouldn’t torture somepony over a coffee maker,” he insists, then quietly adds, “much.” Pausing to appreciate the new units, Cure holds up a hoof to his sire and gets a bump in return. “Nice work, pa. It’s good to know if the whole cosmetic procedure thing ends up flopping, eventually, I can make some coin delivering and installing kitchen appliances.”

“It’s good yer keepin yer options open, son.”

“Yup, always have a backup. Isn’t that right, mom?”

“I suppose,” she agrees with a shrug. At Deed’s snort laugh and Vines admonishing “Cure!” it registers what he’d said. “… hey, wait a second. What are you implying?”

“Aww, I’m just teasing ya, mom! You know I love ya ta bits!” he shouts, walking over and hugging her foreleg.

“Mhmm… I think I still have the receipt for that coffee maker somewhere.”

Cure cheats and makes his pupils grow huge, then with big, watery eyes, pinned back ears, and a quivering lip he looks up to meet her stare. “But… but momma…”

She can only keep it up a moment before looking away. “Ugh, so unfair. You suck.”

Grinning in victory, he gives her another quick nuzzle and turns back to finish his explanation about setting up a stove in humanlandia but stops when there’s a knock at the door. All four scent the air subconsciously and realize it’s Glacial and Drift outside, so Cure pulls off his horn, re-cubes it and sets it on a counter before putting his cap back on and going to the door.

He opens it to find a pair of pegasi in their outfits he delivered just a few days prior. “Well if this isn’t the prettiest couple of presents anypony’s ever found on their doorstep then I’ll eat my hat! Gotta say, that’s some fancy wrappin too!” Looking over his withers he yells, “Dam! Dad! Mom! Come look how great the girls look in their flight suits!” Stepping aside he waves the pair in and shuts the door behind them, getting a couple giggled out hellos and nuzzles as they pass by.

“We were gonna see if everypony wanted to play in the snow,” Glacial explains as she walks in the room just as the parents come out of the kitchen.

“Sweet Celestia, son! I didn’t know you knew the Wonderbolts!”
“Oh, wow, ladies!” Title shouts. “You are looking really sharp in those!”
“They look amazing, girls. Would you like some hot cocoa or anything?”

“That would be great, Mrs. Vines,” Glacial eagerly accepts. “Thank you.”

“Sure, thanks!” Drift agrees as both pull their hoods back. Cure notices they were both using the membranes he gave them, which he’s happy to see them enjoying.

The parents go in the kitchen to give the three some privacy while preparing their drinks. Cure gets out a couple guest mats and lays them out, then flops on his cushion facing the pair. “So what’s up ladies? You both do the family thing already?”

He’s caught unprepared when each girl takes a side and lays against him, Drift on his left and Glacial on his right. They remind him of Dawn just a few months prior when she first started doing the same thing. Both are leaning against him with their suits still on while looking anywhere but at him and blushing, though it’s harder to tell with Drift’s dark purple coat.

Glacial answers first. “Mmhmm. Dad and dam got me a… well…” she drifts off, pinking in her ears even more.

Drift cackles, turning to finally look at the two. “They got her a big stuffed toy!”

“It’s a plush snuggle toy and I love it!”

“HAHA! She’s got a big ol’ Princess toy to snuggle with at night.”

Cure can’t help but think that sounds pretty nice. “What’s wrong with that? I always sleep way better with somepony to snuggle with. You think they have any Teddy bears? I bet the foal would love that and I’d get myself one too.”

“Sweet Celestia, Cure, are you still five or something?”

“We’re a herd species, Drift. We sleep better in groups. It’s wired into our brains.”

“See!” Glacial yells at her friend. “I told you there wasn’t anything wrong with it. What’s a Teddy bear though?”

Cure explains, ignoring Drift’s huffed “whatever.” “It’s just a stuffed bear toy that is kinda cutesy looking. Maybe I can make one for my little sister with my dam’s help. I bet Early’s over in Baltimare has the stuffing. What’d you get, Drift? Anything neat?”

“Daddy got me a really cool book about pegasi military tradition. It has all kinds ‘a formations, aerial maneuvers, and lots of neat history about tactics used in the last griffon war.”

“That sounds awesome! Maybe when you’re done reading it you could bring it over and show me some? I’d love to see some of those moves. Have you two tried any yet?”

“Not yet,” Glacial answers as Drift shakes her head no. “We wanted to go around and see if everypony wanted to go out and play in the snow. Daddy’s team worked really hard last night to cover the whole town, but they dumped a buncha extra in the park for the foals.”

“Oh,” in a husky voice he asks, “and you thought of me first, did you?” while nuzzling into her neck.

“No,” Drift bluntly answers. Smirking at the colt when he turns to her, she explains, “We actually stopped here last.”

“Jeez… really?” he asks with a pout. At her proud nod he gives her a forlorn look and lays his head between his forelegs. “Well… I guess I’m glad you eventually remembered me.” Cure plays it up some, but the truth is that it does hurt his feelings. He’s certainly not expecting them to dry hump his face every time he sees them, but him being almost an afterthought stings more than he expected.

Glacial gives her wings a flap and settles on his withers. “You and Heavy are the furthest out of town!” she insists. “He was outside playin with his sisters already, that’s why we came here last!” Nosing at his mane she continues, “Ferric and her dam spent the night at Saph’s house and Coast’s is on the way here.”

Pausing, she leans down and takes a deeper sniff at his mane, something Drift raises an eyebrow at. “Why do you smell like cookies?” she asks, then takes another and says, “Is that some kind of cologne? I’ve never heard of a cookie scented one, but it smells really good.”

“The same reason you smell like lilies. It’s nice, by the way. I mean ‘you smell nice’ is kind of an odd thing to say, but I’m glad to see you’re enjoying the plants. I guess the oil works well?”

Curiosity getting the better of her, Drift leans over and noses at his mane too. She must really like the smell because he feels her rubbing her cheek against him. Either that or she actually feels a little bad about being a jerk all the time.

Vines is absolutely delighted when she walks in the room with a tray on her back. Finding two more fillies not only leaning on him, but also scenting him and, evidently, liking what they find brings joy to her heart. With a happy wiggle in her step she sets the tray in front of the three, gives her son a big smile, then dances back to the kitchen, getting thanks from the trio as she goes. She never notices the pair’s embarrassment at being seen with their faces crammed in his mane.

“The oil is fantastic, actually,” Drift admits, still resting her head on his shoulder. “My dam and sister really appreciate that. Sorry for teasing you, Cure. I really do appreciate all the presents. My sire uses the leaves too since it has the oil but doesn’t smell as strong… it’s as good or better than anything we’ve bought.”

“Mmhmm. My sire’s doing the same thing. He’s had a couple mares at work ask him what he’s using. You could probably sell those plants for a couple hundred bits each.”

“Really?” he asks, surprised. “That much?”

Nodding as she climbs down to get her drink she asks, “Have you seen how much the oil costs?”

“Yeah, I actually bought some when I got the brushes. I had to take a little taste of both the scented and the plain ones so I could compare ‘em to the oil I made. I also asked a pegasus at work to test the oil out. She said it was nice.” Pausing to remember how much the oil costs, he comes up blank. “I don’t remember how much the oil was by itself… I bought it with the brush sets.”

“A nice jar of scented oil is fifteen to twenty bits depending on the brand,” Drift explains. “Each one of those plants is easily worth a couple hundred. Way more depending on how long they live. How long do they live?”

“No idea. I combined several plants to make those. They’re cold resistant like a maple, have the leaves and stems of hostas… don’t freak out, because obviously they’re not poison ivy, but the glands that produce oil are similar to those, and of course they started as whichever flower they are. They’re highly modified, though… I would assume they’ll live for years because the maple tree is where I got the ‘hardiness’ from.”

Cure pauses to reach out and grab his drink. He could smell it as soon as she brought it out. He takes a slow sip of the coffee and savors every drop, tweaking his taste buds slightly to add a hint of vanilla to the flavor. His mom had, fortunately, put a little sugar in it, but with only milk there was no other way but to cheat for now. He still enjoyed the strong Canterlot blend, but his pony tastebuds demanded a sweeter drink than he could tolerate in his memories.

Both girls are enjoying the hot cocoa and, with a hint of jealousy, he notices she’d put marshmallows in theirs. It would probably taste a little weird in coffee, but melt-on-your-tongue chocolate marshmallows sound pretty damn good anytime it’s below freezing out.

“Is that coffee?” Drift asks, leaning close to take a sniff.

“Yeah, but it’s not very sweet… do you like it?”

“It smells good, but I’ve never tasted it before.”

“Well you’re welcome to a sip but I don’t think you’ll like it unless I mess with the flavor some.”

“Mess with the flavor?” she asks.

“Yeah, I can make anything taste like anything I’ve had before. I’ll use my talent on ya; go ahead and take a sip of that hot cocoa.”

Nodding, she does just that, getting a marshmallow on the way while he watches the signals firing off from her mouth.

“Okay, now take a sip of my coffee,” he instructs, sliding it to her.

As the drink hits her tongue he modifies the signals leaving the area to mimic the chocolatey, melty marshmallow flavor, causing the filly’s eyes to light up in delight.

“Okay, hold on a sec and I’ll let you taste how the coffee normally would. Maybe wash what’s in your mouth down with a sip of your cocoa again.”

After doing so she waits a few seconds, then leans over and takes a small sip of the coffee again, this time almost spitting it out and recoiling away. “That’s disgusting! How can you drink that?”

“Eh, I think you have to kinda get used to having it for a while, then it just gets better and better. My parents got me a coffee maker for Hearth’s Warming. I don’t think I’ve ever been as excited about a present before… not for a long time, at least. Of course the Wonderbolts tickets are pretty great too.”

“Wonderbolts tickets?” both girls ask at the same time.

“Yeah… your dams didn’t tell you about them?” At the dual no head shakes he explains, “My parents got tickets for the Wonderbolts season opener in May along with everything we need. Train tickets, hotel room, etcetera. I only have a few tickets… Maybe if everypony else can’t go I’ll ask you last, Drift.”

At her wide, watery-eyed look he rolls his eyes and waves a hoof. “I’m teasing; they got enough for everypony who’s not terrified of heights. You should really think about how you talk to ponies, though, Drift. I teased you a few days ago but it’s… it’s bad. I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, you’re pretty and I bet you’ll be gorgeous when you’re older, but nopony wants to be snarled at all the time.”

Drift does not take the criticism well at all. Hopping to her hooves she turns and faces Cure, face twisted into a snarl. “Who the fuck do you think you are to tell me how to talk to ponies?”

Rather than responding in kind he keeps sipping at his coffee. “Somepony that cares enough to tell you to your face that no matter how beautiful a mare is, eventually anypony will get sick of their attitude. I’d rather piss you off now than see you alone in twenty years because you seem to enjoy startin shit way more than you like seein other ponies happy.”

“Don’t you worry about me, I’ll be fine!”

“Maybe, or maybe you’re gonna say something funky to somepony that’s too much like yourself and they’re gonna knock your teeth out. Or you’ll win the fight and end up arrested. One or the other, but both endings kind of suck if you ask me.” Finally setting his coffee down, he turns to face her. “Lemme ask ya this, Drift. How well did lettin their tempers get the better of ‘em work for your sister and your sire?”

Cure figures it’s a fifty-fifty chance. She’ll either back down or attack. Of course, she has to know that attacking an earth pony on the ground, especially one that’s as strong as he is, can not end well. Still, he sits up and faces her when she starts puffing up.

A few months ago when they played kickball she was a little taller than him, but that’s not the case anymore. She’s slightly taller than she was that night at kickball, but Cure’s grown over an inch since then, making any height she had from the year and a half age advantage disappear.

“So are you gonna attack me for voicing a legitimate concern after everything I’ve done to try to be a good friend? I mean… you literally are not strong enough to hurt me, but if you want to prove me right, go ahead.”

“She better not. I’ve been telling her the same thing for over a year now!” Glacial growls from behind him. Stomping around Cure, she nuzzles under Drift’s chin and, absolutely blowing Cure’s mind, plants a soft kiss on her left cheek. She whispers in her ear, but with his hearing Cure can hear every word. “Calm down, he’s right. I like him, so be nice!”

Cure’s pretty sure a wire in his brain misfired because it seems to him like Drift almost instantly listens to Glacial and stops poofing herself up, nodding in acceptance from the platinum filly and returning the nuzzle. Deciding that he’d rather have an awkward moment and be wrong than be unsure how everything stands, he decides to speak up.

“I like you too, Glacial. Stars, I even like Drift, usually. I just don’t like when she’s so… mean,” he explains with a frown. “I mean, I couldn’t believe it when I showed up piled with presents to her freaking cloud house and the first thing she said was ‘Why the fuck are you here’ then called me a stalker a sentence later.

“I just don’t get it, Drift. I show you how to do aura tricks, I give you a massage, do your wings, treat you to desert, buy you a flight suit and brushes, literally invent a new plant for you, give you those membranes, tell you we’re going to see the Wonderbolts in their opening show and the only thing it takes for you to explode on me is ‘You should really think about how you talk to ponies.’”

Each item he lists off causes the filly to wince. He doesn’t realize it, but as he’s naming everything, he thinks about how much effort he’s put into their friendship, causing him to get angrier and angrier. Subconsciously he squares off with Drift and widens his stance, looking ready to pounce on her.

“That’s not okay,” he snaps at her. “I don’t expect some kinda tit-for-tat but I’m not some fucking doormat and I’m not going to keep going above and beyond to be your friend just to get my face bitten off at the slightest provocation. Are you going to start treating me like I’m an actual friend or is this what I can expect from you every time we have to interact?”

By the time he finishes he’s fully yelling at the girl, and she’s shrunk back, almost behind Glacial, who’s shocked at the angry, confrontational demeanor from the colt she’s only ever seen be happy and friendly.

“Cure? What’s wrong?” his dam calls, having heard raised voices and her son’s nearly growled out speech. She comes back into the living room to find both fillies shrunk back away from him and him looking like he’s about to attack.

Cure takes a deep breath and blows the frustration out. Facing his dam he explains, “What’s wrong is that I’ve gone, in my opinion, way out of my way to try to be a good friend and basically every time we meet our interactions start with Drift making some nasty comment or just being a jerk, and I’m sick of quietly taking it.”

He turns back to the fillies and says, “If you want to be my friend, that’s great. If not, I’ll be disappointed, but I guess that’s fine too. I’m just done being the only one putting forth any effort, so go out, have fun playing with everypony, and when you’ve had time to decide if our friendship is over with or not then let me know.”

He continues, looking to the platinum filly. “Glacial, I think I like you and, to me, you’re absolutely beautiful. I don’t know what exactly your two’s relationship is and, frankly, I don’t care either way. I don’t want to issue some kind of ultimatum, but if us being friends means I have to let somepony treat me like that then I’m afraid that’s just not going to work for me.

“I’m young and, frankly, not invested enough in any would-be relationship between us to put up with that crap, no matter how gorgeous I think you are, so both of you can go ahead and leave and think over what I said and let me know whenever you reach a decision. I’ll probably come out after visiting Lemon, Amy, and the girls.”

Rant done, Cure walks to the door, opens it wide, and steps aside while waving a hoof out. Both hesitate at first, but after looking between him and his dam they walk out, heads hung and eyes tearing up. Once they’re outside he closes the door behind them, then wordlessly leans his forehead against it, feeling the adrenaline fade and the post-rush tiredness setting in.

Vines walks behind him and gently pets down his back while he listens to the conversation between the pair on the other side of the door. They’d moved away, but hadn’t flown off yet and the argument was overwhelmingly Glacial growling at Drift.

“No, you’re not going back in there today! He’s angry and hurt because you have to be such a hardflank all the time.” The sarcastic emphasis on “hardflank” comes through loud and clear. “How long did it take before Lightwing told Wind the same thing he said? What happened after that, miss hardflank?”

“She begged him not to dump her,” he hears Drift softly answer, then give a very wet sounding sniff.

“Exactly! Colts don’t have to tolerate that, Crosswind. You’ve seen how fed up with it your dam gets. Do you think your sire would have taken that from a mare when there’s always a half dozen more waiting in the wings to step in? No! She only puts up with that so she has her own stallion, and you know it’s true!”

“I’m sorry, okay?! What do you want me to do? He looked like he was about to rip my head off and I’d already apologized once!”

“Stop acting like a flankhole and having to apologize afterwards! He doesn’t deserve that, especially from you. Sweet Celestia, do you know how much these suits cost?!”

“Dam said silk’s expensive…”

“Thousands, Drift. Each. And those plants! I have no idea what… " the conversation becomes inaudible from there as the two have moved far enough away that Cure can no longer hear them.

He lets out a deep sigh and turns around, wrapping his forelegs around his dam. “How much did you all hear?”

“From her yelling about what you said on. I don’t like that kind of language, Cure. I know you’re upset, but I expect better than that.”

“I’m sorry, dam,” he says, nuzzling into her chest. Despite his mental age he can feel his ears pin back automatically. “I kinda lost my temper on her.”

“We couldn’t tell,” his mom calls out, trotting over to put the half finished cocoa back on the tray. Pausing for a moment, she shrugs and downs both mugs, then carries them back to the kitchen as his sire comes out and flops on his cushion.

“Lil harsh fer a holiday, son. I hafta agree, though. No need having folks in yer life that can’t behave like decent ponies. I bet she’ll be here apologizin in no time.”

Cure gives his dam a nuzzle and another squeeze before letting go, climbing between Deed’s forelegs, and flopping on his side. He reaches for his coffee, getting a hoof from Deed. With a quick thanks he starts warming it with his TK. “Probably,” he agrees with a sigh. “I could hear the two of them out there for a moment. Glacial sounds ticked at her,” he explains as Title rejoins them, laying across Deed’s withers on his right as Vines lays against his left side.

“From what I could hear,” he continues, “it sounds like her older sister had something similar happen, assuming Lightwing is the colt she’s been dating for a couple months. I don’t know if the way they act is a behavioral thing or if there’s a biological reason. I’ve never gotten anything from my talent about mental health issues, so maybe bipolar disorder runs in their family and she really can’t help it much.”

“I think we had a similar conversation back after that night you fought Wind, honey,” his dam tells him. “It certainly seems to run in the family.”

“Yeah,” Cure agrees, nuzzling into his sire’s shoulder, “and Glacial said something about Drift’s dam only putting up with it so she can have her own stallion. He didn’t act off the other day, but with that many ponies around and, given the circumstances, I would expect him to be on his best behavior.

“That kinda indicates it may just be a learned behavior instead of having a biological cause. Whatever, not my problem. It does suck that mares have to put up with that crap but she still made the choice, so that’s on her.”

Title leans down and asks, “Are you going to go out to play with your friends, babe?”

“Maybe after visiting my lil sisters. I’m sure that’ll cheer me up.” He takes a sip of his coffee and continues warming it. “I’m not really mad at Drift, I’m just sick of her acting the way she does. You shouldn’t keep toxic ponies in your life, and I wasn’t joking; she’s going to mouth off to the wrong pony one day and get hurt. Or whoever she’s with will if they’re forced to defend her.

“I remember some chicks, which is slang for human women, that thought they were untouchable because a lot of guys would never hit a girl. Some eventually got the hell beat out of them when they finally found that wrong guy to mouth off to. That’s less of an issue here since mares can be about as strong as stallions, but human males are usually three to four times as strong as women.

“Still, I’m sorry about the profanity. I definitely let my anger get the better of me. That ‘We came here last’ quip cut me deeper than I expected.”

“We just about hadta hold yer dam back when that girl snarled at ya. Like I said, son, it was a lil harsh given the holiday and all, but if that’s how she is most ‘a the time it was gonna happen eventually either way, I reckon. Better to know sooner’n later.”

“Yeah… Mind if I finish my coffee before we go?”

“Take your time, honey. There’s no rush,” Title answers.

Cherry and Lotus had been ecstatic with the books and the crayons. Their dams were thrilled with the blankets, but the conversation got a little odd. Title thought the whole thing was hilarious, of course, so she was happy to sit back and watch while Deed and Vines entertained the girls.

“You made them?” Amethyst asks. At his nod she scowls and continues. “Wait, they’re made of what, exactly?”

“Silk, Amy,” Cure answers, rubbing at his temples.

“Uh huh. I ain’t seen any worms at yer house, colt, so where under Celestia’s sun didja get it, and how in Tartarus did ya make them fancy patterns?”

“They’re very pretty,” Lemon agrees. “I’d love to get one for myself.”

“Sweetie, he made those. Himself. Ainchya gettin it?”

“So?”

“It’s basically skin, Lemon,” Cure explains, “skin is made of protein, just like spider or worm silk is. Amy, does it really bother you that instead of some worm’s cocoon they’re made from me?”

“It’s a little weird,” she points out.

“We put cow crap on plants we grow to eat, Amy. You can go to the farms a bit further out of town and literally say hi to the cows if ya want. Those blankets are transmuted with magic from what they were to what they are now. What magic do you use on yer spinach when you sit down for dinner?”

With a disgusted look, she considers that point for a moment. Finally, she nods in acceptance. “Ya know what? That’s fair.”

Sighing at the concession, Cure turns to her wife. “Any particular design you’d like, Lemon?”

The weather team had done a fantastic job the previous night. Hearth’s Warming Eve just isn’t the same without a layer of snow on the ground. Of course, that doesn’t mean it’s as easy as pushing a few clouds over the town, giving them a good buck, and calling it a day.

Nope, the clouds all need a degree of micromanagement to get it just right. The town itself needs a good hoof of the stuff at most so streets and walkways can be easily cleared. The farms only need a dusting so their ground crops are accessible within a few days. The parks, though… They need at least a half meter so the foals have plenty of material to work with for their forts and their fights.

Dawn, Rising, Coast, and Drift have successfully held the high ground. Glacial was sneaky as all get out, and Ferric was throwing snowballs as big as Dawn’s head. Thank the stars it’s powdery snow. She still is going to kiss Cure right on his face because the coat he gave her with the shield crystal is a Celestia-sent blessing, not to mention the membrane he added that has kept water out of her eyes.

The fort her team had put together was being pelted from all sides, but they’ve been giving back as good as they’ve gotten so far. She doesn’t know how the hay Rising does it, but that filly has the most ridiculous aim she’s ever seen. Glacial learned real quick to keep her hooves on the ground after she got nailed right in the wingpit once.

With an unexpected lull in the fight, Dawn dares to poke her head up over the wall and, bizarrely, sees absolutely nopony out there. The snow has been churned up a little due to their playing, so it’s difficult to see over it, even with the membranes closed, but when she looks around for a few seconds and is met with complete silence she suspects they may be up to something.

“Drift?” she calls out. “You have the best eyes. Can you see anything?”

“Uhh… where is Drift?” Coast yells back.

Turning to face Coast and Rising, Dawn asks, “What do you mean where is Drift? She’s running around in a bright pink suit, how the hay did you lose her in a field of white snow?”

“I thought she was right behind me,” Rising tells her, then glances over her withers. “She was just a moment ago because I heard her whining that her suit didn’t cover her wings. I like my fetlock band and all,” she says, looking at it fondly, “but having a warm, waterproof suit would be really nice right now,” she complains with a pout.

Scoffing, Dawn points out, “Don’t go pouting at me. I’m sorta-kinda his fillyfriend and he didn’t give me any jewelry.”

“Riiiiiight,” Coast sarcastically agrees, “he only gave you a few thousand bits worth of silk clothes. You poor thing.”

“Besides, you’re not his only fillyfriend now,” Rising teases, “He basically proposed right in front of my dam,” she says with a smug smile. Then the smile disappears into a frown, “Stars I’m gonna kill him for that. She was so disappointed when I told her he was teasing.”

“You sure he was?” Coast asks, “I mean, the way you described it sounded kinda… you know… intimate. Plus, fetlock band…”

“I dunno. I mean, he’s cute enough I guess, and we’ve seen how good he is with foals. And he’s got a good job. Like, ridiculously good.” With a teasing smirk she asks, “How bout it, Dawn. Wanna share ‘em?”

“Worry about that when we figure out where everypony went,” she growls back.

“What in the hay is that?” Rising asks, looking over the wall.

“Is that the fin from my Nightmare Night costume?”

“What?” Dawn asks in confusion. Following Rising’s pointed hoof she does indeed see a fin. Sure enough, it looks like the one from Coast’s costume, but darker, and it’s moving in a wide circle around them in the snow. “What the hay is that? There’s not like… some kind of snow shark creature is there?”

Coast shakes her head no. “Not that I’ve ever heard of… is it circling us?”

“Uhh… it looks like it is,” Rising hesitantly nods. “And I think it’s getting closer.”

Dawn checks through her aura. All of the water in the snow between her and the target is making it impossible to get a feel for what it is, but she can tell the fin is definitely attached to something, and it is spiraling around and closer to them as it goes. She’s beginning to get a little worried. She’s heard her sire talking about some land sharks once, but he hadn’t been talking about animals at the time. “It is! What should we do?!”

“Uhh… it just disappeared,” Coast yells out, just as Dawn feels the fin dip down below the snow’s surface. “Where the hay did it go?! The snow’s not THAT deep out there!”

Dawn barely had a split second to catch a glimpse of something when the creature resurfaced on the other side of them. To her relief, this time she hears something she recognized. At least, she recognized the voice.

“Duunnn dunnn… duuuunnnn duun… duuunnnnnnnn dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun!”

“CURE! YOU JERK!”

Exploding out of a wall, the big idiot stands there smiling, but instead of his normal coat color he’s white from ears to hooves with light blue streaks like tiger stripes. “BAHAHA! GOTCHYA!” he shouts, dancing on his hind legs and jabbing out with his forehooves. “WOO! TOTALLY JAWSOME!” he yells before diving back into the snow and disappearing.

Coast stands there with a look of absolute bewilderment on her face. Turning to the other two fillies she gives them a confused look and asks, “What the hay is wrong with him?”

“I have no idea,” Rising shrugs, shaking her head in confusion. “I guess he just really likes to play in the snow?” she half-asks the other two.

“Dunno,” Dawn replies with a shrug, “but if he starts actin like a total crazy pony he’s all yours.”

Vines looks over the other foals warily, then asks, “Are you sure you don’t mind being in here, sweetie?”

“Eh, for now it’s fine. I’ll probably hang out here for a little bit then wander around some. Don’t worry, dam, I’ll stay out of trouble. Mostly,” he adds with a mischievous smile.

After giving him a long stare, Vines nods in acceptance. “Okay… well if you decide you want to go just come find me or your mom downstairs. I think your sire may have already gotten started,” she finishes with a sigh. Giving Cure one last nuzzle, Vines walks over to the foalcare provider and talks to the mare for a moment before leaving.

The holiday party that he had been invited to is on the ground floor of the Town Hall building. Cure remembers Title mentioned how they can rearrange the building and now he’s seen an example firsthoof.

The greenspace around the building has been decked out with strings of low level Light crystals in various colors. Wreaths are strewn about, hanging from virtually every protrusion on the building that could hold one. Garland is also strung about, all up and down every column in the building and hanging from the tall ceiling running lengthwise down the hall in a zigzag pattern.

Hearth’s Warming trees of various sizes and colors are also dotted around the interior, though the main lobby area has been left completely open for a large dance floor and the long tables the adults are drinking and eating at. Cure spotted a fully-stocked bar as well, and that’s probably going to be exactly where he ends up hanging out most of the evening if he can pull it off.

For now, though, he’s in the foalcare area on the second floor with the few children whose parents decided they had to come along for the party. The interconnected conference rooms they were using took up a fairly large area; likely the size of the tax offices, though any furniture that would normally be there had evidently been moved or chucked into storage.

Entertainment for the little ones is being provided by a couple clowns who are, at the moment, doing a small magic show. There’s a nap area for anypony that tuckers out, and, in another room, a section for the older colts and fillies with some games like darts, an indoor version of shoe toss, a ping pong table, some card games, and so forth.

Cure figures he can hang out here for a little bit, then if he gets bored sneak out and find something fun to do.

The clinic staff aren’t the only ones in attendance. Far from it, in fact. As best Cure can tell everypony whose paycheck comes from the crown is here, including most of the guards, everypony that works in the building, the librarians, the weather team, and the employees from the court building.

Dawn and Solar should be showing up in a little bit with their parents, but Cure figures the older colt will hang out with the adults. He’s over fifteen and has his mark, so he can drink or do whatever any other adult can, after all.

Cure isn’t sure if Glacial or Drift will show up. Glacial’s sire is on the weather team and both of Drift’s parents are guards, so they could. Or they could stay home with Wind watching them if they prefer; she is old enough, after all, and has her mark now too.

Cure feels a little guilty about exploding on Drift earlier in the day, but it needed to be said sooner or later. Deed was right though; today wasn’t a good day for it. It made the whole playing in the snow thing kind of awkward and everypony could tell that something had happened between him, Drift, and Glacial. Cure had quickly told Dawn they got in an argument, but he hadn’t had the time or opportunity to give her any details before he had to go home to get cleaned up for the party.

Bored, and with little to do, Cure decides to go check out the games for the older foals. Not very many are there since most are old enough to be left at home, but there’s inevitably always some that get dragged along since they are a little on the young side and don’t yet have their marks.

Cure spots a group of four pre-teen fillies and one colt playing shoe toss and decides to take a chance to see if they need a sixth. The colt and two fillies are earth ponies, one of the girls is a unicorn, and the last is a pegasus.

The indoor version of shoe toss uses a hard rubber version of the metal horseshoes… or pony shoes, he supposes. They probably could do some damage if thrown hard enough, but are unlikely to unless somepony specifically tries. Cure isn’t sure if these are holiday-themed or if they’re normally colored green and red.

The stakes, instead of being literal stakes in the ground, are basically rebar pegs sticking up about three hooves out of laid-down plywood boards; apparently screwed down into the wood somehow on a metal brace. Aside from the minor modifications the game seems identical to what he’d played at a few cookouts in his memories.

“Y’all need a sixth for shoe toss?” he asks as he approaches. Three of the fillies are watching while the colt and the unicorn filly are playing a round. There’s two other sets, so Cure’s not sure if the other three just don’t want to play or if this is a group of girls all pining after the one male present.

“Nah, colt, go away,” the older colt immediately says, dismissing him and turning back to take his turn. He’s a lighter cream colored earth pony and, though it’s a little difficult to guess, Cure thinks he’s probably around twelve or so. He’s a fair amount taller than Cure; about two and a half hooves and, aside from the pegasus filly who is a smidge shorter, so are all the girls.

“Dude all they have goin on over there are some board games and a clown show. I ain’t interested in a clown show.”

Stopping and turning to face Cure, the colt shrugs and waves him away with the hoof that isn’t holding a shoe. “I don’t really care what you’re interested in, little colt. I said go away. So go away.”

Cure sighs, sits on his haunches, and starts massaging at his temples with his eyes shut. Apparently the colt takes umbrage with Cure not immediately obeying him. Once he makes his throw he turns around and marches up to the younger colt, standing over him from just slightly out of reach. “Is there some part of go away that’s confusing to you, little colt?”

“No. I understand ‘Go away’ fine,” Cure answers, opening his eyes and standing back up. “Today’s been kind of a mixed bag, ya know? Started off great, took a bit of a dip after lunch, and now I get the pleasure of meetin nice ponies like yerself. I’m not sure if I want to put another bully in their place or just walk away.” Cure ignores the glare and looks up in thought. “Honestly, I just don’t think you’re worth it, especially at a party full of my coworkers, so… yeah, have fun ladies,” he explains as he turns to leave.

“Yeah you better fuck off you little smartmouth,” the colt calls after him, getting a few giggles from a couple of the fillies that are watching.

Cure pauses and looks over his withers, then turns to look at the shoe toss board they were throwing at. Pointing a hoof at it he shouts, “Hey I think something’s wrong with that stake, dude. Lemme go take a quick look then I’ll get outta yer mane,” he says as he turns and trots to the board with the stake standing up.

The colt is hot on his heels, so Cure doesn’t waste any time. He reaches down, grabs the stake, and snaps it right out of the board; the brace it was stuck in tearing and staying attached to the wood. The colt assumes Cure is going to swing at him with it, so he stops on the spot and takes a step back as all the fillies stand in case a fight breaks out.

Cure sits on his haunches, looks up, meets the colt’s eyes, then grabs each end of the stake in his hooves and, with full power magic blasting through his muscles, bends the it into a horseshoe shape in front of everypony, getting gasps from several of the fillies.

Holding the U-shaped piece of metal in his hooves, he waves it in the air. “Oh shoot! I think it was already right after all!” he theatrically shouts in faux embarrassment. Making a big show of rolling his eyes he adds, “It’s the shoes that are supposed to be bent, duh! The stake is supposed to be straight, isn’t it? I’ll tell ya, I am such a dummy sometimes! Here, lemme fix it real quick!”

Grabbing both ends again, he re-bends the stake until it’s straight, aside from a small wave where the bend was, then holds it in the air. “Well that looks about right to me. How about you, friend? Does that look good to you? Does that look straight enough, buddy?” he asks, holding the rebar out for the colt to take.

Slowly backing away from Cure, the colt nods in agreement. “Uhh… yeah, dude. That looks fine.”

“Great!” he shouts, dropping the rebar on the spot and ignoring the noise it makes when it hits the ground. “I’m so glad to hear that. Okay, you all have fun playing with your games now, got it? Maybe next time somepony wants to play too y’all can be a bit more neighborly, huh?”

Pointing to the room’s exit he adds, “I better go let the nice mare that’s keeping an eye on us know that I got a tiny bit confused and accidentally broke this one. Good thing there’s a couple others to play with.” Trotting towards the doorway he shouts back, “Y’all have fun now! Happy Hearth’s Warming Eve, everypony!”

After explaining that he’d broken a piece of the game equipment to the foalcare provider mare, Cure insisted that the bill for a replacement or repairs be sent to him. Unfortunately, she got a bit argumentative when he tried to leave until he told her, in no uncertain terms, that the only way he was staying in the foal area is if she physically forced him to and he would happily carry her downstairs with him if she tried. Once she found out he is an employee and not just the foal of one she relented.

Cure makes his way downstairs, passing a few parents dropping off their foals in the process. Once he’s far enough down that he can see the actual party, he quickly spots several ponies he knows. Every off-duty guard is at one table near the bar and, from the empty cups he’s judging, already working on a decent buzz. His parents are, surprisingly, sitting just a table away across from Emerald and Haze, so he decides to make that his first stop.

Nosing his way between his dam and his sire, he greets the group. “Hey everypony,” he calls. Nuzzling into his dam he explains, “Upstairs sucked so I figured I’d join y’all down here at the party. Hi Mr. Haze, Mrs. Aura. Are Dawn and Solar here?”

“No, Cure,” Emerald answers, “Dawn was going to come but said she was really tired from being outside in the cold, so she and Solar stayed home. They will probably be getting ready for bed here shortly.”

“Aww, why didn’t anypony come up and tell me? I was mainly waitin for her to show up.”

“I’m sorry sweetie, I was going to come up in just a few minutes. You were only up there for about half an hour. Did something happen?”

“Yeah, some jerk older colt got smart with me so I had to put him in his place. I owe somepony for a new shoe toss board, FYI. Anything exciting happening down here?”

With a worried look, Title asks, “You didn’t… break the board over his head or something, did you?”

“Sweet Celestia, mom! When in the hay have I ever hurt anypony? No, I just had to give ‘em a little demonstration. No violence… sheesh. You know I’m a pacifist,” he insists with an innocent look.

“Right, pacifist,” Haze knowingly nods. “I think I recall Solar mentioning exactly how passive you can be.”

“Aww, he told on me?”

“Don’t worry, son,” Haze insists, “I’m a father before I’m anything else, understood?”

“Yessir!” Cure answers, getting an appreciative nod back from the stallion.

“To answer your question, Cure,” Title says, “there’s not much goin on yet. I think everypony’s still applying the ‘ol social lubricant right now.”

“Huh. Neat. Dad, what are you drinkin?”

“It’s called a Manehattan, son. Want a sip?” he asks

“NO!” Vines yells as Cure reaches for the glass. He freezes on the spot and looks up at his wide-eyed dam, then moves his hoof an inch closer, getting a scowl. “Don’t you dare, little colt!” she growls.

“I’m gonna!” he teases back.

“You better not!”

Pointing in the other direction he yells, “WHY’S THE PRINCESS HERE?” Vines’ head whips around to follow his hoof, as do all the other heads in the area. Cure snatches the drink out of his dad’s hoof and downs the whole thing in one gulp, then puts the glass back just as everypony turns back around, looking on in horror as he chews up the cherries.

“Mmm. Yummy.”

Haze and Title both snort out laughs. Emerald covers her mouth with a hoof. Deed’s looking forlornly at his empty glass while Vines is staring daggers at the blue colt.

“Musta been a weather balloon. Weird.” Turning to look back at his sire he gives a respectful nod. “Wow dad, way to pound it. I’ll go getcha another one.”

“Thanks, son! Yer tha best!”

Cure doesn’t make it an inch away before he has a green hoof on his withers. “CURE!”

“Hmm? What’s up dam?”

“You’re skatin on thin ice, mister!”

“Dad’s thirsty, dam! You’re not gonna let the poor stallion dehydrate are ya? Look at how parched he is!”

They both glance at Deed who, playing along, is holding his empty glass between forehooves and pouting at his wife with a quivering lip. He lets out a small cough and weakly wheezes, “so thirsty, need booze” before looking back down at his empty glass.

Vines lets out a growl and releases Cure, sitting back at the table with a huff.

“Is he going to be okay?” Emerald asks as Cure wanders off. “That’s a lot of alcohol for somepony so young. I hope he won’t be ill.”

“He can’t get drunk,” Title tells them, getting a confused look from both of the unicorns. “Well, he probably could get drunk if he wanted to, but remember his talent. He was probably curious what it tasted like. He could drink a whole bottle of the stuff and not a drop of it would enter his bloodstream without him letting it,” she explains.

“Huh… that’s interesting,” Haze comments.

Cure makes his way over to the bartender and rears up to put his forehooves on the bar. “Yo keep, what’s a stallion gotta do ta get a Manehattan over here?” he shouts out, getting a round of laughs from the nearby patrons.

The bartender, an aged white unicorn stallion, leans over the bar and looks over the colt. “Step one would be to check back in about eight years, son. I’ll have it ready for ya then.”

“It’s not for me, old timer. I’m immune to the stuff anyhow. Special talent, ya know? It’s for my sire. Some punk colt ran by and drank his.”

“Uh huh, got a description of the troublemaker?”

“Yeah, mister, he was about six and a half hooves tall at the withers, light blue coat, green mane, and all the ladies nearby couldn’t stop swooning when he flexed!” he shouts, getting another round of laughs from everypony in earshot.

“Somepony oughta do somethin about the little rascal, but,” Cure continues as he turns to face the table with most of the guards sitting at it, “all the damn guards are over there drinkin my tax money instead of stopping the punk!” he shouts, getting a laugh from a few of them.

“Cure? What in the hay are you doing?” Ricochet yells back.

Cure fakes being surprised at seeing her there. “Oh wow! Hey, Rico, I didn’t see all of ya over there. Small world, huh?”

“Yeah, I bet. Are you harassing the barkeeper?”

With an affronted look, Cure puts a hoof on his chest and gasps loudly, “Me?! Harass the only pony in the whole building that’s actually working? Slander! Lies and slander most foul! Somepony should make a report about this!” he shouts, waving a hoof in the air.

“Stars, colt, you’re not actually drunk are you?” she asks, causing all the other guards that are nearby to scoot further away from him.

Cure gives them a wide-eyed look, “What the hay, everypony? Y’all actin like yer scared of a colt. I’m funny and adorable and completely harmless. Adorable too. I’m not sure if I mentioned adorable, but definitely adorable.”

“Shit, colt, you may be adorable and all,” Ricochet starts, pausing when Cure bats his suddenly much longer lashes at her, causing all the watching guards to holler out laughs. The corporal derails so hard she pauses a second to rub her forehead before continuing. “So fuckin weird, I swear. Anyhow, I don’t think anypony that’s seen how much steel you move believes that harmless is even close to right.”

“You’re gonna hurt my fragile little feelings over here,” he says with a pout. “No, Rico, I’m not drunk. I think I would have to force myself to actually get drunk, ya know? I have a healing talent and alcohol is, basically, a poison, so I think you can figure out how that works.”

The whole table lets off a sigh of relief. “Damn, y’all aren’t exactly inspirin a buncha confidence in our stalwart defenders here. Now which one of ya is gonna tell this nice stallion here that I need a Manehattan for my sire?”

Static Arc stands up and walks over to the bar. “I’d like one Manehattan, please.” The barkeep looks between Cure and the denim pegasus, shrugs, and gets started making the drink. “This is actually for your sire, right?” he asks the colt.

“Yep. Look,” he says, pointing to Deed who waves back and shoots the corporal a nod.

“Alright. Cool. If ya need anything else, colt, just let me know, okay?”

“Thanks dude!” he says, giving the stallion a hoof bump. Static heads back to the table while Cure waits for the drink and, after the barkeep sets it on the counter, tosses a couple bits up, plants the glass between his ears, and makes his way back to his sire.

“Order’s up, pa.”

“Thanks, champ.”

“See, Mr. Haze? This is why you bring your foals to parties. That way you have somepony that can fetch ya drinks without havin to tip ‘em.”

“That’s a valid point, son. I’m not so sure I could get away with that, though.”

“Yeah, Dawn would probably keep taking sips and Solar would disappear with the whole thing. I sure hope she’s a giggly drunk. Nopony likes a mean one, especially one as good with fire magic as she is.” Cure pauses in thought and idly muses aloud, “I wonder which tribe has the worst drunks. My money’s on earth pony. What do you think, dam?”

“Oh, I don’t know, honey. I don’t meet a lot of drunk ponies.”

“It’s definitely pegasi, Cure,” Emerald insists.

Haze nods in agreement. “She’s right, son. Nothing’s worse than a drunk pegasus. We have seen all the evidence we need to answer that one.”

“Sounds like ya got a story, you two,” Deed eyes them curiously. “Gonna share with the class?”

Emerald cringes at the memory while Haze chuckles a few times, nodding. “For our wedding,” he starts explaining, “we went all out. Had a big ceremony, outdoor reception, open bar… the works.”

“It cost a fortune!” Emerald interjects. “I’ve told both of ours to just go to a judge and keep it to immediate family. Never again do I want to deal with such a fiasco!”

“Exactly,” Haze agrees. “Did you do a big ceremony for yours?”

Vines looks down, clearly upset at the question. Deed leans over and gives her a kiss on her cheek before answering, “I’m afraid that wasn’t an option for us. My dandelion wanted one, but circumstances and all that…” he trails off with a sigh.

Cure nuzzles between the two, hugging his dam. Emerald gives Haze a not-very-subtle kick and a “what’s wrong with you” look. Cringing in realization, Haze quickly apologizes. “Ah… sorry! Open mouth, insert hoof,” he says with an uncomfortable chuckle.

“Well, if it helps, fiasco is exactly the right word. The officiator got my name wrong… Glaring Haze, really?!” he shouts, shaking his head in disbelief. “Then my best stallion realized he forgot the rings. Ah, unicorns use rings for the ceremony… I know earth ponies use fetlock bands, but yeah… the moron left them at the hotel,” he explains in exasperation.

Uhh… earth ponies use what now?! Whoops… no wonder Rising was teasing Dawn earlier. I wonder if Midnight Gem set me up or if there’s not that much significance like he thinks.

“Don’t forget the band, dear. They were simply atrocious! It was as if they were playing completely different songs at the same time, all of them poorly.”

“Yeah, there was the band,” he agrees, “or at least they called themselves one, despite their complete inability to play together. But anyway, as far as the original question is concerned, we had an open bar at the reception. As you can imagine, several members of my squad at the time were invited. I believe they saw the open bar as a challenge of some kind.

“We had members of all the tribes present and, you have to admit, the circumstances were ideal to test your question as to which tribe is the worst. Speaking from my experience, unicorns can be eliminated immediately simply because anything beyond a simple light spell just will not happen. Just like any other set of nerves and muscles in the body,” he says as he reaches up and gently taps his horn, “this fella’s coordination goes right out the window.

“Levitating small objects is about the limit of an inebriated unicorn’s capabilities, and even that is a right struggle.”

“Do you remember when my sister was trying to figure out how to get out of her dress?!” Emerald asks with a giggle. “Oh sun and stars! She was so drunk she kept missing the dress and grabbing her own tail! My aunt’s table got quite the lurid show!” she finishes, laughing uproariously.

“Well to her credit it did end up getting her a husband, so…” Haze trails off with a shrug. “But anyhow, one of my squaddies was this pegasus mare named Falcon. Had a beautiful silver coat and a bright yellow mane and tail, which made finding her crashed rear a lot easier, I’ll tell you what. She drank more beer and liquor than I ever believed a pegasus mare could even contain.”

“I believe she had a space-compressed stomach, dear, because she also absolutely thrashed the buffet half way through the reception.”

“Well, that explains half of the… ordinance, at least. Well, after consuming approximately her own body weight in alcohol and, apparently, food she decided to argue with another pegasus about who could glide the lowest and furthest without crashing or putting their hooves down. Glide, as in no flapping either,” he clarifies.

“Oh. That sounds like a bad idea,” Vines observes, getting agreeing nods from her husband and wife.

“Absolutely,” Haze agrees, “and it gets quite a bit worse when you factor what centripetal force does to a pony that’s crammed full of food and drinks at a crowded event.”

“To their credit, the strip that they were using was off to the side of the reception,” Emerald explains with a cringe.

“Yes, but unfortunately when Falcon made her run she was too drunk and her left forehoof caught the ground. She pinwheeled directly through the reception area… " Haze gets a faraway look, then shudders. “Have you ever seen those sponge-like balls that foals play with in a swimming pool?”

Oh boy. I think I know where this is going.

Cure clears his throat and asks, “Do you mean the ones you dip in the water, get soaked real good, then throw with as much spin as possible to make a spiraling water ring effect?”

Haze points a hoof at him and nods vigorously, “Yes, exactly that… that is what happened. I do not believe any of the… spray… was water, though.”

“The best part, of course, was where she ended her jaunt,” Emerald primly explains. “Would anypony care to wager a guess?”

“I think I know,” Title quietly says, getting nods from the other parents.

“The cake,” Cure answers.

“The cake,” both unicorns say at the same time. Haze continues, “It was a moot point by then. Even if she hadn’t hit the target dead on, she had already blanketed most of the guests, the food, and many of the serving ponies in a fine mist, and occasionally less fine not-mist, sadly. I do not believe I have ever seen fecal matter sprayed in such a wide radius in my entire life.”

“I would freaking hope not,” Title mumbles.

“Wow. Okay,” Cure nods in agreement, “pegasi win the competition for worst drunks I reckon. I figured earth ponies because of the strength thing, but… damn dude. Y’all’s wedding sounds like a freaking train wreck.”

“And don’t forget how expensive it was,” Emerald reminds them. “We paid quite a bit for all of that… pleasure”

“Thousands of bits,” Haze agrees with a nod, “To a private and a just-starting clinician it was a princess’s ransom.”

“Yeesh, good thing your son’s dating an event planner,” Title reminds them. “Maybe at your anniversary you can renew your vows and not have an open bar.”

“Maybe,” Haze agrees. “Our twentieth is coming up… well, not this coming May, but the one after.”

“Our tenth is next November first,” Vines says. Leaning over she gives Deed a kiss on his cheek. “My big, strong stallion proposed the day we found out I was pregnant and we were married two weeks later.”

“It was the second time in two weeks ya made me the happiest stallion in the world, babe,” Deed says, wrapping a foreleg around her withers and pulling her into his side. Reaching down, he ruffles Cure's mane and adds, “She did it again the next June, just a few seconds after Her Highness brought up her sun just a short train ride away.”

“I really wanted to go to that, too,” Haze complains. “Baltimare’s first turn since I transferred and, of course, I was on duty that morning.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yep, that’s right champ. Yer dam had ya not more’n ten seconds after the Summer Sun Celebration concluded just a few kilometers away.”

“That would have been June 20th, 900 AB, dad?”

Deed looks up in thought for a moment, then looks down at Cure and softly asks, “That’s kind of an important date, isn’t it?”

“It uhh… has some significance, yes.”

“Huh.”

“Am I… missing something here?” Haze asks, leaning towards Title.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it. Maybe we can fill ya in some day. Every family has those things, right?”

Haze just sits back up and nods in understanding. “Yes, I suppose they do.”

“I feel like I could use another one of those Manehattans, pa.”

“Ya know what, son. How bout yer pa comes with ya. We’ll get a few ta share.”