Flakes of snow drifted solemnly toward the ground, blanketing Ponyville’s landscape with thin white sheets. Outside it was cheery, the adults finishing some last-minute Hearth’s Warming shopping; the fillies and the colts playing in the streets. Inside, families had their tables set in preparation for their annual Hearth’s Warming Eve dinner. Some exchanged presents, and couples provided a romantic evening for their partners. It was undoubtedly a white Hearth’s Warming, but for one particular house, it was green.
Shades drawn, Smolder’s room was modestly lit, although every few seconds the decorative lights strung across the ceiling would flash a different color. Festive music blasted from a vintage record player on her nightstand. The sulfuric stench of dragon fire clung to the air, along with something a little more pungent.
Sitting on her bed with legs criss-cross applesauce, Smolder was in the middle of her twenty-seventh bong hit when there came a knocking at the door.
“Yo, what is it?” she said, marijuana smoke trailing out the corners of her mouth.
“It’s Sandbar.” Came a voice from the other side. It sounded eerily familiar.
“Sandbar who?”
“Sandbar, your friend?”
“I know a lot of Sandbars. You’ll have to be more specific!”
“I have ketchup chips.”
“Oh, that Sandbar! Come in!”
Sandbar kicked the door open, entering the room on his hind legs while caring a motherload of chip bags. He plopped it all down, the pile scattering across the floor. “That does it for snacks. Silverstream should be joining us in a little bit.”
Smolder winced.
Sandbar tilted his head. “What?”
“Silverstream ain’t the type of gal you want to get high with.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, uh… she acts a little weird whenever she’s high…”
Silverstream tilted her head, the reflection following her movement. She squinted, the reflection also squinting. She scowled, the reflection also scowling.
Smolder popped her head into the doorway of the bathroom. “Hey Silv, ya done in here? I needa take a shit.”
“Yeah, hold on…”
She waved her talon, the reflection also waving its talon. She pecked at the glass. The reflection pecked back. Silverstream gasped and whispered in a threatening tone, “You son of a bitch…”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Sandbar said. “It’s not like she’s going to hurt anyone.”
“Just keep something shiny with you at all times in case she wanders off.” Smolder tipped the bong up and took a sip of water.
“When is Ocellus supposed to get back with groceries, by the way?”
“Dunno. She left an hour ago. I know that Yona is supposed to be here soon also, and Gallus’s train… when is his train supposed to arrive?”
Sandbar’s ear’s flicked at Gallus, then he quickly cleared his throat and said quickly, “Seven-thirty, I think.”
He clearly tried to play it off, but Smolder caught onto him. After, all it was no secret to her. “Do you still want to buttfuck him?”
His ears flicked again, eyes widening. “N-no!”
Smolder placed the bong between her legs and smirked. “You still want to buttfuck him!”
“No! It’s not like that—I grew out of him, I—” His heart quicked, throat constricted. If he wasn’t so high he was sure he could talk his way out of this situation, but once Smolder became dedicated to an idea there was no stopping her.
“It’s been like, what, three years dude? It was cute back in school, but having a silly crush is a bit dumb now, don’tcha think?”
“It’s nothing like that, I swear! Why do you even have to say buttfuck, why can’t you say something less horny?”
“Because babe,” Smolder said, picking the bong up by its neck and toasting it toward the pony. “It’s part of my characterization.”
Sandbar sighed, plopped his rump onto the bed, and opened a bag of ketchup chips. “Ocellus really needs to stop lending you her eroticas.”
“Hey, I don’t need a hundred thousand words of mumbo jumbo to scissor her. But you? You could use a few other words in your lingo. Something like ‘Gal Pal, let’s make out.’ or ‘Hey Gallus, I’ve had a crush on you since we were still in school. Can we make out?’ or ‘Yo, cock-pussy’—gittit, because he’s a cat-bird—’We should make out.’ You see, you have to be upfront. You have to grab em by the balls before they run away, or you’ll never have them. Catch my drift?”
“You’re… kinda right… but also bad at explaining things.”
Smolder clapped a paw against his shoulder. “Okay, so listen… listen… lis—are you listening?”
Sandbar nodded.
She placed the bong back between her legs and jabbed her other claw into his chest. “That dude is hot shit, alright? I’d fuck him. The only reason I’m not going to is that you’re going to. So, when he gets here, you’re going to tell him everything—the whole shebang. There’s no getting around it this time. You either do it this year, or you don’t do it at all. Kapeesh?”
Sandbar opened his mouth to say something when the two heard the front door slam, and his head perked up. “Hey, I think Ocellus is here!”
He hopped off the bed and scampered off to the other room. “Hey, bitch!” Smolder called after him. “Don’t dodge the question! Are you going to do it or naw?”
When she didn’t receive an answer she grumbled and got up. She heard Ocellus squeal in a way that was admittedly cute and found the two hugging each other tightly upon entering the living room.
“I missed you I missed you I missed you…” Ocellus was saying rapidly. After a few more seconds of squeezing each other, they parted. “When did you get here? I wasn’t gone for that long. And…” She sniffed the air, then looked the pony in the eyes, examining his pupils. She raised a brow. “Smolder already got you high, didn’t she?”
He gave her a sheepish smile. “Only a little.”
“He had, like, a quarter of a quarter of a brownie,” Smolder said, leaning against the door’s frame and dangling the bong against her thigh. “Dipshit can’t handle his dope.”
He sighed and shook his head. “I didn’t want to be that high for when everyone got here.”
“We’re all going to be blazing it either way. Does it matter?”
“I mean, I haven’t seen you guys for at least a year. It probably does.”
“Hey Sandbar,” Ocellus budded in. “Did Smolder give you a tour of our new place?”
“Nah,” he said. “She kinda just opened the door and said, ‘Ayy, let’s get high.’ Didn’t see much of it, but I like the living room!”
He gestured his hoof out toward the living room, which looked as if Discord himself had vomited all over it, but in a very elegant way. When Ocellus and Smolder first moved in together, they quarreled over how they would decorate the place. Ocellus suggested they put together a friendship collage that expanded all across the living room’s wall, but Smolder thought that was too sissy. After arguing for hours, the two had decided to basically cut the room in half.
Ocellus’s side of the room was the very representation of domesticity. A leather sectional with a frilly quilt draped across its length was pushed back against the wall, expanding out into an L-shape and a lovely blanket lying over the automan; four little fuzzy pink slippers sitting on the floor in front in case her hoovesies got too cold. If one were to sit on the couch, one would have the perfect view of the fireplace with its brick surround and mahogany mantle. They could watch the crackle of the flames as decorative lights strung from the ceiling danced above their heads. But the scene wouldn’t be complete without the Hearth’s Warming tree on perfect display in front of the window, as shimmering and hopeful as a miracle.
Smolder’s side of the room was full of rocks. Really cool rocks, plus a large boulder twice the size of the front door that she deemed “The Hearth’s Warming Boulder;” with glitter sparkling against its surface and wrapped in tinsel. She didn’t have the heart to tell Ocellus that her side was crappy.
“Well here,” Ocellus said, walking past the pony. “I’ll show you around!”
“Okay!”
Smolder followed them throughout the house, listening to the pony’s comments about how cool their place was. After a few minutes, a knock came from the front door.
“Silverstream, you made it!” Ocellus beamed when she saw the hippogriff on the porch.
Silverstream, now two feet taller than she had been back in school, swept Ocellus off her hooves and pulled her into a tight hug. “Ahh, I can’t believe it! It’s like I saw you just yesterday!”
Ocellus giggled pushing herself away from Silverstream’s chest to avoid suffocating. “You did see me yesterday. We’re taking similar courses!”
“Oh!” Silverstream dropped the changeling onto her hooves, then leaned her head through the doorway to peek inside the house. She gasped. “Are those rocks!? You guys have everything here! You even have a Hearth’s Warming boulder, sweeeet!”
“Why don’t you come in?” Ocellus said, stepping aside. “I was just showing Sandbar around!”
Silverstream pranced into the living room, looking in awe at all of the sparkling things. Seeing the dragonness, she yelled, “Smolder!” Then zoomed toward her for a hug.
Prepared for this, Smolder stepped out of the way, the hippogriff tripping and landing on her chin. “Sup Silverstream.”
“Heeey girlfrieeend!” Silverstream chirped, perking back up.
Smolder held out the bong. “We were just getting high. Wanna join?”
Ocellus walked up to the two as Silverstream took the bong into her talon. “Uhh, Smolder, I thought we were gonna do that once everyone was already here.”
“Yes, but no.”
Silverstream wiped her beak with the back of her talon and handed the bong back to Smolder. “Thanks for the weed water!”
“Wait, what—” Smolder lifted the base of the bong to eye level and saw that it was empty. “Silverstream, that’s not how you do drugs!”
“Well, it’s an upgrade from last time,” Ocellus said.
Silverstream hovered into the air and threw both talons up in defense. “Hey, I didn’t know you weren’t supposed to inject!”
“Hey, is that Silverstream?” Sandbar asked, walking into the living room from the kitchen.
Silverstream gasped and zoomed toward the pony, wrapping him in a hug that’d put choke locks to shame. “Sandbaaar, I missed you!”
Sandbar chuckled in a loving gurgle sort of way, plopping his rump onto the floor and returning the hug. “I literally saw you yesterday when you stopped by to remind me.”
“And it was a whole twenty-four hours! Do you know how long twenty-four hours is!?”
“Twenty-four hours?”
“Longer!”
“Uhhh, fourteen hundred forty minutes?”
“Loooonger!”
Ocellus quirked a brow. “Eighty-six thousand four hundred seconds?”
Silverstream let go of the pony and fluttered up higher in the air, pointing at the changeling. “You bet your bippy it’s that long, now imagine counting all of that!”
“Hello?” Came a voice at the door. The four turned to see Yona entering. “Is this friends house?”
“Sup Yona!” Smolder said, waving the bong at her. “Come on in, make yourself at home.”
Sandbar, Silverstream, and Ocellus shot toward her immediately while Smolder stayed behind. “Yona brought gifts!” the yak exclaimed as they all hugged her.
“Oh Yona, you didn’t have to do that!”
Yona dumped the bag full of presents beneath the Hearth’s Warming tree, which peeved Smolder a little since there was a perfectly good Hearth’s Warming boulder only four feet away.
“How’s Manehatten?” Ocellus asked.
“It’s fun!” Yona exclaimed, plopping down on the leather sectional and breaking it in two. “Ms. Rarity likes Yona’s ideas. Yaks have very good fashion sense.”
Ocellus’s eye twitched. “Really? That’s great! Almost as great as the warranty I bought with the couch!”
Sandbar turned toward the changeling. “So is there anything you need help with? Like food or cleaning…”
Ocellus scratched her chin. “Well, my legs are tired from carrying all these groceries, and I still have to go to Sugarcube Corner to pick up the cake. It’d be great if you can pick it up for me before Gallus arrives.”
Sandbar’s ears flicked again, although Smolder was the only one to notice.
“Sure!” he said.
Smolder walked up to the pony and clapped him on the back of the neck, causing him to jolt. “I’m going with ya. Their peppermint hot chocolate is hot shit this time of year.”
Sandbar scowled, already knowing what she was up to. “Yeah, we’ll both go.”
“Are you going to do it? Are you going to do it? Are you going to do it? Are you—”
Sandbar ignored the dragonness the entire way, even as she jabbed her claw against his shoulder. It stung with each poke, but it was still bearable enough to not spare any attention.
The two entered Sugarcube Corner, and Smolder switched from “Are you going to do it?” to “Are you going to order me a peppermint hot cocoa? Are you going to order me a peppermint hot cocoa? Are you going to—”
“Hey, Professor Pinkie!” Sandbar exclaimed as they arrived to the counter.
Pinkie Pie popped her head out of the oven behind the counter—literally—and held out a tray of freshly baked cookies. “Hey Sanbar! Hey Smolder! Wanna try this new chocolate and almond cookie recipe I’ve been working on?”
“No thanks!” Sandbar said.
“I’ll take one!” Smolder shouted and swiped two.
Pinkie threw the tray of cookies into the trash and bounced up to the registrar. “So what can I get you guys?”
Sandbar pointed at the white box sitting at the edge of the counter. “I’m here to pick up the cake for Ocellus. Is that it?”
“Yup!” Pinkie slid the box in front of her and lifted the lid ajar. “Tell me how I did!”
The cake was the very definition of fine. Green icing rode along the edges in concentric loops, encircling a plateau of shredded coconut pact on top to look like snow. Over the coconut were chocolate chip cookies with green icing shaped like letters that read HAPPY HEARTH’S WARMING ~ OCELLUS.
Beneath that, hastily sprawled in red frosting—or ketchup but Sandbar wasn’t sure if that’s what it was, or why it would be on the cake—were the words smoke em if ya got em. ~ Smoldhur.
“Thanks babe,” Smolder said, swiping the box away from Sandbar. “Ayy, how much is it for a large peppermint hot cocoa?”
“Seven bits!”
Smolder quirked a brow in Sandbar’s direction. “You got six bits I can borrow?”
Sandbar sighed and gave the money to Pinkie.
“Thanks!” Pinkie said, putting the money in the register and a hot cocoa on the counter.
Balancing the box with one claw, Smolder picked up the cup and took a swig, enjoying the minty-chocolatey goodness. “Hey Pinkie. Do you think Sandbar should ask out Gallus?”
“What!?” Pinkie screamed as Sandbar gawked. She placed both forehooves on either side of his face, shaking him violently. “You haven’t asked him out!? It’s been three years, man! Step up your game!”
Sandbar stepped away from the counter, seeing three Pinkies, which was too many for the universe to handle. “How did you know about that?”
“You think because I’m older than you I don’t know wassup? I hears alls the gossip!” She fist-bumped Smolder.
Placing another drinking cup under a tap, she let it fill to the brim with frothy hot cocoa. Taking a butter knife, she swiped the foam off the top and slid it over to the pony. Grabbing a rootbeer mug from under the counter, she began cleaning it with a cloth. “Tell big sista Pinkie what’s up.”
Sandbar took a sip, licking away a cocoa mustache, and frowned. “Ever year since graduation all of our friends meet up somewhere once a year to hang out and—” he was about to say Get high, but he wasn’t comfortable saying that in the presence of an ex-teacher. “Cut the grass, and—”
“He means weed,” Smolder interrupted. “We get high and inject things into our arteries. Mostly, weed.”
PInkie nodded enthusiastically. “Hey, been there, done that. What can I say?”
“Uhh, yeah, haha,” Sandbar chuckled, taking a long sip of his hot cocoa.”Like I was saying. We meet up once a year and every year I feel a little more confident, and I want to talk to him I really do, but every time I get close to him my voice catches in my throat, and…”
Smolder groaned. “You gotta go for that bussy dude!”
Pinkie tipped her head toward the dragonness. “Smolder’s right. That bussy ain’t gonna stay here for long. Soon enough some other hunk it gonna swipe him off his feet.” She jabbed a hoof toward him. “And you’re the one who’s going to put a stop to that!”
Sandbar opened his mouth, closed it, then reopened it. “Did you just say ‘bussy’ Professor Pinkie?”
Sitting on her haunches, she threw her forehooves against either side of her hips. “Heck yeah, I said it! This old soul still has a functioning hip! When he arrives on his train, you’re going to walk up to him and say everything you want to say. Kapeesh?”
Sandbar opened his mouth to reply but Smolder pointed to a clock on the wall. “Yo, it’s about to arrive! Let’s go!”
She wrapped her tail around his hoof and pulled him away from the counter.
“Bye, come again!” Pinkie shouted after them and waving. "Please don't resort to the ritual knife again, Smolder!"
“Quick, turn off the ceiling fan!” Ocellus shouted as she whipped the soft end of the broom against Silverstream’s rump, who was fluttering against the ceiling haphazardly and screeching like a parakeet.
Sandbar ran up beside the changeling, wide-eyed. “What’s going on?”
“Silverstream had one of Smolder’s brownies mistaking it for a normal one and now she’s like this!”
Smolder jiggled a set of keys in front of her. “Yo Silv! Catch this!”
She tossed them toward the hippogriff, who caught them and jiggled the set in return, enjoying the subtle tinkle.
“You get her down yet?” A voice called from behind them.
Sandbar turned around and had to do his best to not flush. Holding a half-eaten cookie in his talon, Gallus was peeking around the corner from the hallway leading into the kitchen.
“Sup blue cheeks,” Smolder said. She walked up to the griffon and fist-bumped him. “How ya been?”
“Not bad. I feel overworked, but not bad.”
Smolder noticed that his body seemed to be sturdier and couldn’t resist squeezing his tricep. Gallus flinched back a little and looked back at her in confusion. She whistled. “Damn son, the guard’s been keeping you in shape.”
He pushed the dragonness away from him a bit. “Yeah, I have to stay in shape for the job. That means sticking to a strict workout routine. It doesn’t sound like a lot of fun, but you get used to it after a while.”
“Hey Sandbar, come feel his muscles!”
Sandbar straightened, his stomach suddenly turning queasy. “W-what?”
“This dude probably has a rockin’ six-pack. You should check come check them out.”
Gallus shook his head, stuffing the rest of the cookie in his mouth. “Nah,” he said, spraying crumbs from his beak. “More like a two-pack. But yeah, I’m not afraid to look myself in the mirror.”
Throat dry, Sandbar reached out to the griffon, devouring his slender physique. His hoof brushed through his feathers along his shoulder, enjoying the firmness of it.
“So Sandbar…”
“You are so tight—I mean, you are—your muscles—I mean, Hi Gallus, yes?” he stammered.
Gallus snorted. “When are we going to get high?”
“Ocelluuuuuuusssss…” Smolder hissed from across the sectional.
Body dangling over the armrest of the couch, Ocellus lifted her head and called back, “Yeaaaah?”
“Is there any frosting left?”
Ocellus’s horn shone brightly, a cup of green frosting with a spoon in it lofting through the air. Smolder took it and stuffed a spoonful into her mouth. “Thaaank yoooou!”
“Hey Yona,” Sandbar said, who was sitting on the floor leaning against the automan. “How long have you been hitting that bong for?”
Someone had passed the bong to Yona minutes ago when Smolder dared her to take the fattest rip possible. That was ten minutes ago, and by now all of the water a the base of the bong had evaporated, the weed at the bottom dehydrated husks.
“I think you can stop, now Yona.”
Yona took the bong out of her mouth with a loud POP and rubbed her eyes. “What?”
Smolder sunk further into the cushions. “This is so cool guys. We should do this every year.”
“We do do this every year, Smolder,” Ocellus said.
“Oh yeah. Hey Sandbar, what’s your favorite kind of cookie?”
Sandbar scratched his chin in thought. “Yeah, I’d buttfuck Gallus.”
Everyone in the room froze, the feathers along Gallus's neck standing up. "What?"
Oh no, Sandbar thought. He looked to Smolder, panic rising in his eyes, and communicated telepathically as best as he could. Save me, he screamed in his mind, please save me. Then he remembered that he couldn’t do telepathy and screamed internally.
And because being in a group of friends forever sometimes means pretending you’re in an improv troupe while you’re stoned out of your mind, Smolder knew exactly what to do.
She sat up and cried, “My fuckin’ appendix just burst!”
“That’s weed paranoia,” Ocellus said, though she couldn’t keep the worry off her face. At this point, she’d only taken a few bong hits, but even that was enough to get her pretty stoned most times.
“It totally is not,” said Smolder.
“How are you standing, then? Normally your stomach would—”
Smolder produced a knife inscribed with magic runes from, well, Celestia knows where and drove it through her palm, roaring as she did. A brief thought flashed through her mind. That thought was Self-harm isn’t cool kids… followed by Self-harm hurts more than I thought.
“What the FUCK,” Ocellus said.
Gallus and Sandbar screamed in unison, leaping to their feet to catch the fainting dragon.
“We need to go to the ER,” Smolder whimpered, leaking blood all over the carpet.
“Wait, what?” Silverstream asked. She’d crammed herself into a laundry hamper in the corner of the room. Her head popped out from the opening, and, upon seeing the grape-purple blood oozing out of Smolder’s hand, began to laugh. “Oh, wow. Dragon blood looks kind of delicious! Like melted grape jelly!”
Ocellus’s wings buzzed like mad as she morphed into her dragon form—which Smolder thought was hotter—giving herself about two hundred pounds more muscle than she usually did, and hauled Smolder into her arms. “Why did you do that?!”
“You’ll understand one day,” Smolder said. “Probably tomorrow.”
“We need to get her to the hospital,” Gallus said. “In the meantime, Yona can stop the bleeding. She’s the one with the most stabbing injury experience. Where is she?”
They all turned to the couch, where Yona had fallen asleep.
“Shit,” Gallus said. “Look, okay, I can bandage her up—”
“You!” Smolder said, her voice turning wobbly. She jabbed a finger at him, splattering blood onto his face. “You need to stay behind with Sandbar. I get nervous when too many people give me attention. Silverstream can come, though.”
“Yaaaay!” Silverstream said, crawling out of the hamper. “Wait, did you stab yourself?”
“Yeah,” Smolder said.
“Aaaand why did you stab yourself?”
“Yeah.”
“Wait, you’re bleeding right now?”
“Yeah.”
“Wait, wait, wait WHAT. We gotta get you to a hospital!”
“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Ocellus screamed. “Silver, come on. Boys, stay here with Yona.”
Sandbar suddenly realized what all of this commotion was for. He locked eyes with Smolder, who winked back at him. On one hoof, he was flattered. On the other…
“You are literally the craziest person I know,” he said.
“Wait until bluebird’s morning after,” Smolder said. “He’ll be the clingiest little orphancel trashtwink this side of Equestria.”
“She’s already speaking complete nonsense,” Ocellus said. “More than usual. We need to hurry before she bleeds out. Silver, come!”
Ocellus and Smolder were off, Silverstream skippering out the door close behind with her tongue flopping out—a bloody, jumbled mess of feathers and scales. Smolder, before getting out of earshot, could be heard laughing at how funny the word ‘Boner’ was.
“It literally sounds like how it’s spelled, that’s hilarious!” her voice faded.
When the world was quiet once again, Gallus turned to Sandbar and said, “We’re friends with a bunch of crazy bitches.”
“I don’t know if you’re allowed to call them that,” Sandbar replied. “Even if it is true.”
“It’s a term of endearment.”
“I guess that’s fine.” Sandbar stared at Gallus’s beak. Griffon beaks kind of looked like unpopped popcorn kernels. All shiny and golden and waiting for the heat of a pony’s mouth to close around them. At most parts of the day, he’d feel regret at how strange that metaphor was, but his mind kept running with it. He imagined melted butter (that wasn’t too hot, poor Gallus) drizzled on top of Gallus’s beak. He imagined himself licking it off. Then he imagine that time he was at the beach licking an ice cream and how the scoop fell—plop! His ears drooped in sadness, for it was his favorite flavor.
Chocolate.
His mouth drooled at just remembering it. Then he imagine that the scoop of ice cream was a pine cone and started licking that. Then he remembered that he had enough weed to tranquilize a horse and snapped back to attention.
Sandbar then realized that, in addition to feeling severe attraction to his good buddy beside him, he also had major munchies.
“Wait, what were we talking about before Smolder shanked herself?” Gallus asked. “I feel like you said something weird.”
Sandbar immediately ignored the question, asking his own instead. “Wanna go to Smolder’s room and eat her gem crackers? I haven’t had ‘em yet.”
“Me neither,” Gallus said. He gave a wing shrug and a smirk that was charming enough to get Sandbar’s tail wagging. “Let’s go steal her shit.”
Sandbar found himself on Smolder’s floor, shoulder to shoulder with Gallus as they shared the real estate on the incredibly soft baby yak fur rug that Yona gifted her last Hearth’s Warming. Between them was a box of gem crackers, and Smolder’s second favorite bong, which was a normal bong shape except for the mouthpiece, which had been sculpted to look like Thunderlane’s asshole.
Sandbar took a hit and bit into a cracker. Gallus did the same.
“You know,” Gallus said after he’d done a fair bit of munching, crunching, and smoking. “I appreciate that they found a way to make gemstones edible for all creatures, but I never expected them to taste like raisins.”
“They’re kind of nasty,” Sandbar said. “They’re amazing when you’re high, though.”
“Damn right.”
A moment of silence passed between them, and as the quiet grew louder, so did Sandbar’s heart. He glanced to the side, eyeing Gallus and all the ways he’d grown. He hadn’t noticed it too much when he arrived earlier, he’d been way too distracted by the griffon’s muscles, but there was an air to Gallus that was different. An understated confidence that Sandbar could only compare to a lion, or a tiger, or a bear, or a zebra with a ballistic missile attached to its back.
Smolder and Pinkie thought it was so easy. Oh, Sandbar why haven’t you asked him out yet? Just tell him how you feel! Just lay your entire heart on the line and risk ruining a perfectly good friendship for the sake of… of having someone to kiss in the moonlight, and cook food for every morning, and to cuddle at night, when he’s home from Canterlot, and needs someone who perfectly understands how dumb and delicate he is. Just go on and tell him. What have you got to lose, except all of your pride, and one of your best friends in the world? Also hi Sandbar, is this how I sound in your thoughts? Wait, why am I thinking in Smolder’s voice?
“Smoke,” Gallus said.
“What?”
“Take another hit.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
Sandbar grabbed the bong, packed some weed in, lit it, took a long, long rip, and breathed it all out in a sharp, spear-like stream. He watched as the smoke lingered in the air for a moment before it faded, dissipating into a faint haze that he could hardly see once his eyes got used to it.
“Another,” Gallus said.
“What? You first.”
“Another,” Gallus said, and this time his tail whipped out to wrap around Sandbar’s, and Sandbar’s back felt like it’d hit an electric current. “Do it for me,” he whispered. “Just trust me on this.”
Sandbar could only nod. He took another hit, this time inhaling enough to make him cough, which was a lot.
“Now eat a cracker,” Gallus said.
Sandbar put a cracker in his mouth and ate it. Raisin-y goodness.
“Now a sip of water.”
Sandbar reached for the bong.
“Not the weed water, you dumb horse.”
“How was I supposed to know?” Sandbar asked.
Gallus slipped a water bottle into his hooves. “Drink.”
Sandbar took a gigantic gulp. He’d been thirstier than he realized, which he shouldn't have been so surprised by.
“Feel good?”
Sandbar nodded.
“Good,” Gallus said. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”
“What? Nothing’s wrong.”
“Don’t give me that,” said Gallus. “You’ve been acting weird around me today. You always act weird around me whenever I come home. It’s like, ‘Oh, Smolder, Ocellus, Yona, Silverstream, how nice! And Sandbar, too! One of my best buddies! I just need to wait about six hours before he starts acting normal because he always avoids looking me in the eyes for too long and every time I touch him it’s like I’m made of needles, and I just pricked the fuck out of him.’ Like, you think that feels good to me? Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong? Probably not, because I think you’d tell me. So what is it, dude? Are we not best friends?”
“We are!” Sandbar cried. “We totally are. Don’t say that.”
Gallus sighed. “I won’t. If you tell me what’s going on.”
“I…” Sandbar swallowed. Was this the right time? Right after their friend stabbed herself in the palm? Albeit, Smolder was intentionally trying to create this moment, but Sandbar still found himself unsure. Maybe the vibes were off! Maybe it’d be weird! “I—I don’t know, I don’t…”
“Look, Sandbar,” Gallus said quietly. He scooted closer, removing the box of crackers and the bong between them. “I got you to smoke a little more because you need to relax. Because I was hoping that whatever you’d got trapped inside of you, you’d be able to let go of if you were a little higher. But there’s no pressure, alright? I’m just worried about you.”
Gallus put his head on Sandbar’s shoulder and purred.
Sandbar felt like he was on fire—in the best way possible. Emotional support fire. His fur stood on end. His skin felt hot. He could hardly speak, or think, about anything but the griffon cheek resting in the crook of his neck. Had they ever been this close before? Only in his dreams, he was pretty sure.
“I love—” Sandbar paused. “I really want to fuck your butt.”
Gallus fidgeted but didn’t move from his spot. Sandbar could only imagine his expression. Incredulous. Disgusted. Scandalized.
“I really want to like, go on dates with you,” said Sandbar. There was a tangible pressure that just…slipped over his head, like pulling a hoodie on really tight. The weed was hitting. He sighed and reveled in the way that his body was starting to feel like it was floating. “I wanna kiss you a bunch on that pretty beak of yours. I wanna be the one you hold at night. I want you to miss me when you’re on guard duty. Miss me more than anyone else. Because I miss you more than I miss anyone else. I want to get married to you, maybe, one day. And get a place together and decorate it way more chaotically than Ocellus and Smolder. I want…oh, Celestia, I want you to be the person I give the last bit of my joint to. The person who decides which strains I choose. The person who reminds me that no one’s ever died from this stuff when I smoke too much. I want you, Gallus. I want to do and be whoever you need, too. But at the very least I really wanna kiss you right now.”
The five seconds it took for Gallus to respond felt like years and years, and dragged as slowly as they could possibly feel. Sandbar’s heart began to come undone, in anticipation of the coming rejection.
Gallus snickered. “Yeah, I already know all that, you freakin’ stoner.”
Sandbar sputtered. “What—what do you mean?”
“I’m a little stupid sometimes, sure, but I started getting the idea like, two years ago after we had that car wash while wearing denim shorts for charity and you couldn’t take your eyes off me.”
“I was admiring the structure,” Sandbar said weakly.
“The structure of my asscheeks, maybe,” Gallus snarked.
“Why did you never say anything?”
“Because I don’t wanna be with a guy who can’t summon the courage to be honest with me.”
“Oh.”
“But now you’ve finally grown a pair, and you’re going to remember how to do that when you need to.”
“I am?”
“You are.”
“Oh. O-okay, what now?”
“We start dating.”
“Really?” Sandbar asked.
“Really,” said Gallus. “Turn to me.”
Sandbar turned his head to where Gallus’s face still was, resting on his shoulder, and found his lips pressed against a beak that tasted like raisins and melted butter. He closed his eyes, letting Gallus take charge of the kiss, letting Gallus push him to the ground and straddle him as their tongues met, as they made out more passionately and awesomely than in any make-out scenes from Ocellus’s more romantic erotica novels—which also had tentacles but feathers worked too. When they pulled apart, a single string of saliva remained to connect their mouths, and Gallus smiled and leaned down and kissed him again, and again, and then got off him to hold him in a side hug and press his face into the crook of his neck once more.
“That,” Sandbar said, “was amazing.”
“Wait until the kinky griffon sex,” Gallus said.
“What?”
“What?” Gallus asked. “Oh, yeah, you wanna know what we do now?”
“Be in love forever?” Sandbar asked.
“That,” Gallus said, “and we smoke all of Smolder’s stash before she gets back.”
“I’m down,” Sandbar said, laughing at the prospect. “Just give me a minute.”
“I gave you three years,” Gallus said. “I guess I can give you another minute.”
And they would have settled into a nice, quiet, tender moment that probably have turned into a sloppy blowjob, if it weren’t for Yona breaking through the door, raining chunks of wood down on them as she yelled, “YAK SMELL PRE-MARITAL SEX! NOT ACTIVITY FOR FRIENDS’ HOUSE!”
Author's Note
I had to rush this out because I procrastinated hella hard. Semillon wrote the ending (last 2,000 words or so) while I edited it while high.
Did you know that every year, one million dead people aren't alive?
