Cold Comfort

by Nonchalant

Rating: everyone
Tags: Lightning Dust, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Fiddlesticks, Romance
Length: 1999

Not everyone is used to winters far from home, but Lightning Dust will make sure Fiddlesticks doesn't have to learn alone.

On a winter day far from home, Lightning Dust ventures out to fulfill her most daring role yet. Emotional support for her love and partner Fiddlesticks. Failure is not an option, not when the stakes are so high, so Lightning will approach the situation the most certain way she knows.

Gathering up a formidable amount of competitive spirit and frustration, throwing it at the wall, and figuring things out from there.

This fic was written for The Red Parade as part of the Enchanted Library Secret Santa fic exchange!

Published 2022-12-31 19:20:00 UTC
Last updated 2022-12-31 19:20:00 UTC

Special Delivery

A quiet curse left Lightning Dust’s mouth as she used her shoulder to push the hotel suite’s door open, her one wing straining to hold the large paper bags she’d braved the Canterlot winter to collect. She tried to keep the rustling to a minimum as she gently set everything down and started the uncomfortable process of wriggling out of her jacket and long, long scarf in a cramped entryway. Out of the corner of her eye, Lightning looked at the lump on the bed, wrapped in bedsheets. It was mostly vertical, which in her mind was a step up from how she’d left her companion earlier that day.

“Hey, Fiddle, I’m back,” she said. Her words were just a little awkward, cold making her muzzle uncooperative. Even so, the bundle of bedsheets that was her marefriend shuffled, and she managed to make out a reply.

“Welcome back,” Fiddlesticks murmured.

Hanging up her jacket took but another second, and then Lightning was scooping up her bags and taking them to the room’s desk. There, she deftly laid out the contents, humming to herself to fill the silent atmosphere. A jar, some hefty mugs, tea bags. A pastry box, some napkins, a quilted blanket. She braced herself, and took the plunge.

“It wasn’t actually as bad as I’d expected outside,” Lightning began. Small talk had never been her strong suit, but she’d quickly become aware of how much brighter idle musings and observations made her days in Appleoosa, whether from her coworkers or even Fiddle herself. “I think the unicorns here just complain because they try so hard to not have to be outside in the first place. Hearth’s Warming isn’t for another week and the streets were absolutely empty, go figure.”

Careful feathers carried the tiny plastic kettle to the bathroom, filled it, then plodded back, turning it on. “I’m sorry I’m not better at the small talk bit,” the pegasus offered the silent bundle on the bed. “I did have an interesting time out there, I promise.”

Fiddlesticks hummed noncommittally. It wasn’t much, but Lightning took the action as a sign of her own impending victory. Even in comforting loved ones, there might be some meaning to be found in competition. She thought.

Hey, so long as it worked, right?

She sat at the foot of the bed as she watched the kettle with such intensity that she began to convince herself it owed her money. One turquoise hoof tapped idly at the packet of tea bags in the other, rattling them around in their little rustic-styled cardboard box. She couldn’t have told anyone what the name of the brand was, but they were familiar enough. It was always what Fiddlesticks kept in her own cupboards back home.

For just a second, Lightning felt the bed move. The way her wing and back tingled made her look over her shoulder, where she saw that her marefriend had inched slightly closer. If she’d really tried, she could likely have pulled the other mare into a hug, but she’d spent far too much of her walk back to the hotel working out a plan to take the easy way out and simply cuddle Fiddle into feeling better. Even so, the proximity and quiet wedged an odd feeling into her throat that she could only compare to the seconds before throwing herself headfirst into a stunt flying competition.

She decided to take the same approach to dealing with the sensation. “Probably best that we didn’t both go out, though. I took your scarf with me.”

Of course, just as in stunts, sometimes Lightning had fallen flat. She willed her mind through the appropriate thoughts, pushing them through by force where they didn’t come naturally.

Mistakes were a part of learning. She gave it an honest attempt and nopony could fault her for it. She would improve with time and support.

The process was easier by now, at least.

An insistent beeping informed the pair that their water had boiled, so Lightning got up with a grunt and poured it out into their new mugs. Both were colourful and quite large, one depicting faint musical notes over a grassy field and the other a bright sky with the silhouette of Canterlot in the distance. It was about as close to kitschy as she was willing to let herself get. Her friends at the Appleoosa weather office had already given her more crocheted gifts than she was comfortable owning, yet they continued to clutter up her few shelves.

The first part of the plan was done. Lightning marched over to stand between Fiddlesticks and the room’s window, quilted blanket under her wing. “Alright,” she said with force, “that’s it.”

Fiddle looked up at Lightning Dust, faint bags visible under the musician’s normally vibrant blue eyes. “Ah know,” she mumbled, “nothin’s even happened yet and Ah’ve been moping far too much.”

“What? No,” Lightning scoffed. “That’s not what I was going to say at all.”

Fiddlesticks made a confused noise, and her marefriend smiled. “It’s still something I know you’ve said to me a whole lot of times, though.”

In a swift motion, Lightning reached out with her mouth and yanked the plain white sheets from around the earth pony’s body, snapping her wing open to drape the blanket over her instead.

“If you’re gonna do somethin’, get it done right!” Lightning crowed, affecting a slight drawl.

“Ah… what?” Even as Fiddlesticks forced her mind to work through her anxious fog, the mare still burrowed into the fresh, warm blanket.

“We’re stressing about tomorrow and missing home tonight, right?” The pegasus’ voice was gentler than she ever let anyone else hear. “So I got us a nice blanket, some tea and mugs we can take back with us, something sweet to eat, and my own lengthy expertise in sulking.”

That forced a snort out of Fiddlesticks, who finally looked over to the desk. Next to it, Lightning was busy opening up the pastry box, but she still fluffed up her chest and gave her marefriend a self-satisfied smile.

“Thanks, Dusty,” Fiddle said.

“Anytime.”

In short order the teas were ready and the pastries “plated” on halves of their cardboard box, and both mares were wrapped in their new blanket as they stared out at the expanse of Canterlot.

Lightning had managed to find her rhythm and was recounting her day in between small, careful sips.

“–and then she offered me the jar of fancy unicorn-grade apple jam on the house, for some reason. Said something about how if I was going to try and comfort a pretty, apple-loving mare I might as well help her get a laugh out of it too. I guess it wasn’t much of a stretch since I said we were visiting from Appleoosa, but still…”

What went unsaid (and would forever stay like that, if Lightning Dust had her way) was that she’d been out and looking for hours at that point and she’d basically laid her life story at the feet of the first merchant to show anything other than detached contempt for a one-winged pegasus who was clearly not a local. She’d really lucked out with that Strawberry Something-or-other also having grown up in Appleoosa.

It had jarred Lightning just how much hearing the accent native to her chosen home had set her at ease, but she didn’t have the time to process the feeling when her marefriend had far more pressing issues at hand.

The conversation hit a lull as the apple danishes were finished off, and Fiddlesticks leaned over to rest her head on Lightning’s chest.

“What if she doesn’t want nothin’ to do with me, Dusty?” she asked.

The pegasus frowned and nuzzled her partner’s head. “That’s not gonna happen. She literally paid for us to come out here the moment she found out you existed. That’s not what someone does when they want to tell a pony to buzz off.”

“Ya never know with these Canterlot types,” Fiddlesticks insisted. “Maybe it’s a test to see if I’m trying to take advantage of her money or somethin’.” The mare took a longer sip of her tea to punctuate her statement. “I’m sure it wouldn’t be that rare.”

Lightning considered it, but recent months and years of hindsight on her own tendency to blow things out of proportion and miss opportunities as a result of her own assumptions had trained her well. “Even so, you’re family. That’s not nothing, even all the way out here.”

“I know that, but…”

“Not quite the same as believing it, hm?” Lightning offered.

“Mm.”

Lightning thought for a few minutes, watching the last of the sunlight leave the mountain city. “Here’s what we’ll do,” she said eventually. “We’ll meet up with this Octavia, and she’ll be so grateful to reconnect with you that next year we can offer to host her for Hearth’s Warming at our place instead.”

She paused, remembering the small loft she rented that had gone almost unoccupied for the past ten months.

“Your place, that is.”

“Our place, don’t worry about it.”

The pegasus swallowed heavily. “If you say so.”

“I do say so,” Fiddle smiled. “We’re out of treats, so we can’t start a new worryin’ session now.”

Lightning nodded. “What about the current worrying session?

Fiddlesticks disentangled herself from the blanket and stood up, stretching muscles that had been bed-bound all day. “Might as well wrap that one up too,” she said. “Don’t want it cutting into my enjoying this view with my marefriend time.”

Quickly enough, Lightning nudged the empty cups and boxes back onto the desk. She could tell easily enough that there was still tightness around Fiddlesticks’ smile, and that her eyes got a little distant whenever she gave herself a second to think, but she also knew she could trust the love that glimmered in the looks they traded. Besides, Lightning knew that she wasn’t leaving her marefriend’s side anytime soon, so she wasn’t concerned about not being there to help her navigate the uncertainty.

The two got ready for bed in comfortable silence, until Fiddle emerged from the bathroom with a question.

“How did you handle it, Lightning?”

“Hm?”

“Spendin’ cold days like this away from yer family and friends for years?” Fiddlesticks shook out her hair, pulling back the covers to get into bed.

“I might have been a bit… single-minded,” Lightning hedged. “So it probably didn’t hit as hard.”

“I see.” The earth pony’s reply was subdued.

Lightning reached over to turn out the lights. “More recently, though, I’ve been giving that a lot of thought.”

Fiddle yawned. “Ya have?”

“Well,” Lightning Dust said, “I have a home worth coming back to, one I’ve worked to deserve and make happy. That’s a pretty comforting thing to remember.”

“Dusty…” Fiddlesticks all but cooed, shuffling closer to give her pegasus a peck on the cheek.

“Look, Fiddle, no matter how tomorrow goes with Octavia, I’m not going anywhere. If there’s one thing you’ve helped me learn it’s that being scared of something you want is no reason to stop chasing it. We’ll make this work out.”

The earth pony mare let out an appreciative hum and nestled closer to Lightning, their breaths mingling in the quiet room.

“Another thing you’ve taught me is that you get real grumpy if you don’t sleep well, so if you wanna make a good impression on your rich and fancy sister…”

“Dusty.”

“Just saying!”

Author's Note

Fiddledust for the Fiddledust gods. This holiday season has been absolutely hectic for me, and I think it's a shame because this pairing has so much potential I just didn't have the time to explore in this story. Oh well, Red's gift will simply have to be the knowledge that yet another person has been infected with the Fiddledust virus.

Thanks for reading, and happy [appropriate holiday or observance for the time of year in which you are reading this note]