Flutterstorm

by Sexy Blonde

Rating: everyone
Tags: Fluttershy, Human, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Romance, Original Character
Length: 20210

When Fluttershy needs comforting, romance begins to take hold. What amazing thing can take root from a single moment?

Fluttershy has always been scared of storms, but never have I seen her quite like this. I had to take her in a few months back due to a magical portal sticking her on Earth for good, and now she needs some help through her first storm after our drought season. Will she make it through without losing her sanity? Will she gain something, or someone, in the process?

Published 2012-09-29 10:44:01 UTC
Last updated 2012-12-25 04:39:24 UTC

Book 1: It Happens

Flutterstorm

Fall is here. The cool night air has seeped into the room, seemingly morphing through the walls, giving no barrier to its caress against any part of me exposed to it. A cold front has pushed a storm into the area, and for the first time in months the rain is cascading from the clouds without hesitation or hold-back. As I lay in my bed, listening to the pattering rain against the roof of my upstairs bedroom, the rolling thunder begins to sneak its way into the peacefulness. I've missed storms like this so much.

The clapping of clouds begins to grow louder, brighter, more intense. More powerful. For nearly two seconds that feel like minutes, unabashed flickering peeps into my window blinds. The storm was simply showing off, almost as if knowing how much I love light dances of this caliber. Closely following this is a high-pitched crack, as if God himself had began applauding over my roof, and a low rumble that shakes my bedframe comes right along and vibrates through my body. Though I am finding joy in the storm's want to impress me, I know deep down that she is about to wake up if she hasn't already.

One second- nothing.

Two seconds- nothing.

Three seconds- Did she really not hear that? That was nearly enough to make me shake.. she's so timid and afraid of so many things. Maybe she-

Before I can complete my thought, I start hearing the moderately pitched squeaks of a twin-sized bed's springs from the room down the hall. Light footsteps follow suit, and she appears from my darkened door frame slower than that of a snail's pace. Standing there in a set of butter yellow pajamas, is the pink-haired girl I found a few months back, lost and confused in a flurry of deep purple cloud. Fluttershy.

In a matter of a few seconds, the memories reel back through my mind like a drive-in movie. After finding her covered in the eerie purple fog, I managed to get some answers from her once the panic in her voice had worn thin to a much anticipated disappearance. Sitting there not knowing where she was, or knowing what kind of strange creature she had so quickly metamorphasized into, she began a nearly inaudible ramble about how Twilight Sparkle was attempting to perform a near-impossible feat of magic; creating a fourth dimension in the three dimensional universe in which we all exist in. She apparently had shown up at Fluttershy's door with the request to attempt it there because of the lack of distractions and an abundantly peaceful environment.

Now, I don't want to get boring with this, but the chain of events all boils down to the following. Twilight had underestimated the magic needed, and the half-completed fourth dimension (currently at the stage of dimensional teleporter type thing) loosened itself from her control. It launched forward from the pure unchained energy it contained, and swallowed Fluttershy up in its grasp. Not remembering what happened between then and her arrival on Earth as a human, I decided to help the newly humanized pony search for answers. After vast amounts of research, I found the information I needed.

The universe is 75% dark matter. This unidentified substance is what allows dimesions to hold within their energy fields. In the area of the universe Equestria is situated in, the dark matter that surrounds it morphs the periodic elements into a certain characteristic form, giving the area of thousands of light years what we humans consider a 'cartoon' appearance. In the part of the universe Earth and the Solar system, as well as our galaxy and supercluster are situated in, the elements are arranged much more intricately because of the type of dark matter that surrounds the field. When Fluttershy was teleported here, she was rearranged in such a manner that she was now human and as intricate as other humans (the dominant species also comes down to the dark matter arranging the elements in different shapes).

I let Fluttershy take this in slowly once I discovered it. For the time being, we had no way to get her back to her home and original pony being. Knowing that it could be a while before something, some plan, could even begin to take shape, I decided to let her live with me.

After a few days of hopelessly trying to situate her, we were found by a human Twilight Sparkle, who then attempted to return Fluttershy to normal and teleport her back to Equestria. I stood and watched as my favorite pony (now gone human) twisted up in a cloud of the same fog she arrived in, and I nearly began crying as the cloud flashed and crackled, surely sending her home. The only thing that stopped my seemingly unstoppable fit of sadness was what I saw where the smoke had vanished from. A still human, still very there, Fluttershy.

Again, to keep this short and sweet, the uncontrollable nature at which Fluttershy was teleported caused her atomic structure to lock in position. No amount of magic from Twilight could change her back. It was a very sad moment when we all came to this realization, but things quickly took a turn for the elated when Twilight reassured us she could control the flow of energy between the dark matter fields for her and her other friends. In other words, Twilight and plenty of Fluttershy's other pony friends were soon visiting my house constantly, returning to Equestria as a cartoon pony at the end of each visit.

As my memory reel flickers and cuts out, I see her standing in my doorframe halfway into my room. Right where she was standing before my mind's theatre cut me off from the real world.

She begins her query with a near silence. "Evan- um.. would it be okay, if I.."

Before she can finish, I cut her off softly with, "Shy, can you not cuddle up with Angel if you're afraid of the storm?"

Angel, her favorite of all her pets, was sucked into this world with her, due to his trying to get her attention when he wanted her to stop what she was doing to make him his special salad recipe. Serves the little jerk right.. I think to myself. He had always, and still does, try to control Fluttershy with his whiney, nit-pickey ways (though he isn't always as successful now because of her newfound assertiveness). She stands unmoving for a second or two, and finally sighs a reply.

"Angel has never liked being held when he tries to sleep. And he's never been scared of storms, so he can't really sympathize with what I feel about them. Please Evan.. I just don't want to go it alone. I'm.. really, really scared.."

Her final sentence comes out as a whisper that almost goes unheard because of the rain, and after a second, I'm stuck at a 50/50 decision. While I would love to be able to comfort Fluttershy now that she needs it, I don't want things to be awkward. I do admit, I've always seen her as the best of the pony gang, and ever since she became a human I've held a steady crush on her, not knowing if she could ever feel the same way. But now that I'm faced with this situation, I just really don't want to disappoint her or leave her hanging in her time of need.

My pondering is abruptly cut off by another burst of sound from the approaching thunderhead, and the electric lamp at the corner of my room emits just enough light to reveal Fluttershy's face. Such an adorable face, but not one just of unmistakeable cuteness. One of genuine fear, backed up by a glistening in her beautiful cyan eyes, fists huddled to her chin.

Not able to hold her back any more, I decide it would be best to be the good friend in this situation.

"Okay Fluttershy, you can sleep in here tonight." I say with a yawn. I pull back the covers on the left side of my queen sized bed for her to slip in, and as she tip-toes gingerly toward the bedside and slips in, the pajamas I bought for her months back disappear little by little beside me. I can't help but think how great a decision it was to buy them for her, I've never seen something more adorable in my life than her in the pair of pajamas that match her old coat color perfectly. And I bought them for her; she's worn them every night since.. I think to myself. It's a great feeling when a beautiful girl like her accepts a gift you get for her.

"Thank you.." she gently rings as she pulls the blankets up to her chin.

"Anytime, Shy. You know I can't say no to that face of yours," I reply half jokingly, half in complete seriousness.

After a light giggle from the former pegasus hits my eardrums, I turn over to my back and stare at the ceiling as I attempt to enter unconsciousness. The rain is still falling heavily, and the peace of the noise nearly knocks me out, until a low rumble causes Fluttershy to tense up. As her entire body reacts to the small sign of another nearing storm, the bed's springs whine and complain at being disturbed by her motion. Being back to what could be considered as awake now, I turn to see her large blue eyes looking at me; this is getting old already. As much as I need sleep right now, I'm just going to have to maintain my patience with her.

I give her a warm smile and whisper, "Everything's okay. I'm right here."

Without reply, she returns the smile and closes her eyes, hopefully trying to go to sleep. I return my blank gaze to the ceiling, and I begin to let my eyelids descend. Thank goodness.. now I can get some much need-

CRACK! My thought is suddenly snipped short by another of God's cheers, and a house quaking rumble projects itself through my room. Before I even realize it's happening, due to my focus on the fading noise, Fluttershy's arm is tossed over my chest and her face is buried into my shoulder/chest pit. Suddenly, I can recall a loud "eek" that had happened just a second before, right after the thunder call. Not knowing what to do at this point (especially now that Fluttershy is nestling into my chest with her face), I am snapped back to the ability to think by a warm wetness emanating from her face onto my shirt, as well as the sounds of light sniffling from my left shoulder.

Wow.. this really is serious. I've never seen her so scared of something in all my life, minus dragons. Why haven't I noticed it before? As my partially sleep-happy brain thinks this, I remember (with a duh, may I add) that the entirety of my area has been in a drought for the past 4 months. While it has rained some since Fluttershy arrived, there has yet to be a storm of this magnitude. And she was giving her all to a proper reaction for something I was yet to witness.

Well, either way, here she is now. Her whole body stuck to my side. She has even gone so far as to wrap her soft little legs around my left knee down to its ankle.

At first, this was slightly irritating. But now.. I can't help but let my natural affection for her sneak up to bite me. Am I.. actually enjoying this? I really am.. wow. It feels great to have her latched onto me like this.

Not allowing myself to let the nerdy little voice in my head ponder any longer, I speak up to the pink-haired belle laying against me.

"Fluttershy," I begin, using her whole name rather than any of the nicknames I use for her on a normal basis, "everything is okay. I promise."

Here goes nothing. I slowly let my right hand creep up to meet the silky texture of the back of the hand she was holding onto me with. I allow my palm to meet full-faced with the back of said left hand, and then stroke the backs of her fingers gently with my thumb.

Before she responds to this, the thoughts come pouring over my mind. Am I really liking her like this? Am I really falling in love with a pony-gone-human that everyone thinks is a made up children's story? After forcing these and other questions to stop reeling repetitively, I can't help but notice how much quicker and stronger my heart is now beating. Along with this bodily reaction came the obvious answer that had reeled along with every obvious question as it was asked.

YES.

It's not like this is a bad thing either. Like her to Pinkie Pie, I am a year older than her. On top of this, she is now permanently human. There can't be an inter-species relationship if the two SO's are of the same species to begin with. And, to place the cherry on the sundae, Fluttershy is a real, breathing, living person. This is quickly reassured by the shortened breaths I feel caressing my neck..

"Oh m-my.. Evan.." she manages to stammer out in a confused tone.

"I'm sorry Shy, is this making you uncomfortable?" When I finish saying this, I stroke her fingers again with my thumb to signal what my question is about.

After a few seconds of silence and another quick sniffle, a low whisper floats from her mouth like silk: "Not at all.."

Upon admitting this, she presses her cute little face back into the space by my left shoulder, forehead on my neck, and to my surprise, goes so far as to lift her hand so that it slips from under my soft grasp, and repositions her fingers to interlock with mine.

The storm is still raging outside, but to me, everything has gone silent. Every sense and feel I contain within my being is focused on her. Focused on the one thing that actually matters at the moment. But what I can't figure out is, how can she, being so shy, do what she just did? She was hardly this forward with telling me breakfast was ready this morning.

Sleep happy mind kicking into gear again, I decide it fit to pull my hand back, place it on top of hers again, and move her hand over to my now pounding heart, right beside her face. As if she is magically poofed back to her everyday self, she asks in a completely normal tone, "Are you okay Evan? Are you afraid of the storm too?"

After trying to cook up an answer for a second or two, my mind decides to go with, "I think storms are soothing more than they are scary." She obviously has trouble grasping this concept, the wince on her face practically screaming it.

Nonetheless, I continue my answer. "It takes something completely different to make my heart beat the way it is now," I whisper.

At this, I take her hand and pull it back over my shoulder. When it reaches its destination, I turn onto my side facing her, causing her head to drop onto my pillow. I wrap both my arms around her hips, connecting them behind her, and pull her whole body into mine. Our faces are now no more than three or four inches apart on my pillow.

"Oh-" she begins, and as soon as I'm sure she's going to say my, she pauses and all my eardrums pick up is "-mmm...", the y's trailing off into inaudibility.

Now, I'm no expert on this sort of thing, but Fluttershy really seems to be enjoying my company at this point in time. Our heads being so close is allowing my lower face to feel her spastic breathing, her body has suddenly gone feverishly warm. I can't get over the way she smells, a fresh spring day mixed with rosebuds and tulips and water lilies, right down to her soft, glossy pink hair smelling of lavender. Her hair.. I think happily. Her gorgeous pink hair.. I love her hair so much. Never has anyone been able to look so beautiful with a full head of pink hair.

As I try to push the creepy, off-topic thoughts about her hair out of my head, my attention comes back to the now shaking pony-girl. Poor Fluttershy.. she's got to get a hold of herself. These storms are really getting to her big time. Upon thinking this, I decide to ask her again about her predicament.

"Are you still that scared Shy? You're shaking like you just saw a ghost."

At hearing this, she nearly suppresses her shaking completely except for a light tremble here and there within the continuing seconds. As the silence ensues, she finally opens her mouth to speak a reply to me. She begins low and soft.

"Well, no. Um- I mean, not really. It- it's taking something c-completely different to make me sh-shake, this time.." She gives me a sheepish smile as the sentence completes, then tilts her head downward, obviously feeling like she failed at being as cute as she'd planned on being with her statement. In all reality, the stammering and nervousness made it all the more adorable.

I now stare at her neutrally, unable to believe what I just heard. Did I really just hear that? I ponder in my mind. Did Fluttershy really just use my line.. in a completely successful attempt at being the cutest thing I've ever seen? Right now, I'm not sure if I'm more surprised at the forwardness of her attempting to flirt with me, or the fact that she basically just revealed that she has the same feelings for me that I have for her.

I don't have long to think about it, because I notice that Fluttershy is in an extremely awkward position now. I can't just leave her hanging on that sentence, come on. I've gotta think of something to say. Before coming up with anything, my thoughts start to wonder off on how I'm really the only guy she talks to now that she's on Earth for good. Much less has ever stayed in the same house for so long with. I only stay on that topic for a second or two, but now I think I'm going to play with her feelings just a little bit. Not in a bad way, but the kind of way that makes her want to pull me back when it looks like I'm about to turn away from her and walk.

"Oh, okay. I can take a hint," I push out in a sad, mono-toned fashion. "Sorry for making you uncomfortable to the point of shaking like this, I was just trying to help out my best friend."

I begin to slide my arms from around her waist as my melancholy apology meets its completion. Once my bottom arm is out, I start sliding my right hand ever so gently across her hip as it goes. Her hip bones stick out a little bit, but her waist curves compliment them ever so perfectly. In all reality, Fluttershy could be a Victoria's Secret model if she ever applied to do such a thing. She's around 5'6", probably no more than 110 pounds, and to be frank, her chest is above average size for a girl of her build. All excellent aspects of a female underwear model. But being she's had issues with modeling in the past, I know there's absolutely no way she would go into something like that. Especially considering the scantiness of such an occupation; she hardly ever goes outside with less than a brown knee skirt and butter yellow turtleneck, the same hue as her pajamas.

My fingertips finally leave her waistline, and with a light gasp, Fluttershy grabs my hand with such a swift motion that I think some other-worldly force had shoved her arm to meet mine. Using what common sense I had awake with me, I convince myself that her action was indeed under her own power, and I follow the pull of her arm with my hand to replace it on the deep curve of her midsection where it had just left.

Silence begins, and before it settles over the two of us, Fluttershy starts her plain, yet blissful reply. A tone of voice that I have never even imagined coming from her lips; one of a light heartly desire, one of flirtation, one of.. romantic truthfulness. Slow and clouded, yet down to Earth and beautiful.

"You don't do that. You don't do that at all."

For such a shy girl, she's plucked my heartstrings into perfect melody. The combinations of her actions, her speaking tones, and her overall honesty throughout our conversation has me practically begging for her to never leave where she is now, stuck to my body. Faces nearly touching. Breaths intermingling. Thoughts about her are now filling my mind's carrying capacity, and no words will come out of my slightly opened mouth due to the mental traffic jam. Before I can force some of the vehicles to merge, however, she barges past them to deepen the moment even further.

"You make me feel safe," she says, continuing with the lovely tone she has acquired.

Still keeping any response from me suppressed, she moves her arm from over my shoulder to place her silky fingertips on my cheek, and begins caressing my skin ever so gently with them.

My gaze moves from her eyes to her mouth, which has curled into a shy yet unwavering smile, and I swear I hear a 'squee' from somewhere. I have no idea where, I just seemed to be surrounded in the cute little sound effect. That had to be my imagination, there's no way I really just heard that, I think intently. I return my arms to lock behind her hips, pulling her body into mine, and I finally squeeze out the only reply my mind can generate (due to Fluttershy thoughts overloading its carrying capacity).

"And you make me feel happy. Not just normal happy, but a kind of happy I honestly didn't know I could feel. And I really like it."

Hearing this makes her press herself closer to me, embracing my top leg with both of hers. She lets out a quiet yet very bubbly giggle as she does, and rather than letting her complete the action sequence, I respond to it by simply placing my forehead onto hers. As simple of a move as this just was, she has allowed her breathing to quicken again, and I can't help but wish our faces were just a bit closer. Just an inch. Just an inch or two.

Another burst of thunder comes, not house shaking, but still loud, which causes Fluttershy to tense up a bit and gasp silently as she does. Being that we're already this close, there won't be any harm in comforting her a bit more than with just words. I'm not saying that I will take things farther than they need to go, but I wouldn't do to any normal friend what I decide to do to comfort the stone-still, fear-stricken girl beside me.

"Don't be afraid Shy, I'm right here. I've got you," I whisper without moving my forehead away from hers. Midsentence, I start to move my top hand up her back with just the ends of my fingers, while allowing my palm to brush against it slightly along the way. I slowly travel up and down her back with the same touch; slowly up to nearly touch her neck, and slowly down to veer away an inch or two before reaching her backside.

With this motion, at first, she begins to tense up more. Her body responds to my affectionate touch as if a boa constrictor were slithering along her back. However, once a stroke or two pass by, she starts to relax with each up and down pass.

Up- her shoulders fall into relaxation.

Down- her hips bump gently back onto mine.

Up- she releases a drawn out breath.

Down- Her touch on my cheek turns back to silk, she passes a light giggle, and she rubs her nose across mine two or three times in each direction. An Eskimo kiss. I manage to hold in the 'Awwwwww!' surfacing from my vocal chords, and continue to stroke her back as it dives back into my throat.

Now, we are silent. All I can bring myself to do is continue rubbing her back, while her fingertips continue to caress the nerve endings on my jaw line. Great, I begin to think, now we are at a stand still. I've got to try and make the next move here.. but what could it be? I wonder. Knowing that I just can't sit here without learning if she's being secretive or not, I decide to ask the question with the obvious answer.

"Fluttershy, is there anything you'd like to tell me?" I ask in a playful yet honest tone. Her breathing starts to speed up yet again, and she begins a shaky reply.

"Um- thank you, Evan. For, um, letting me slee- um, stay- in here with you, this, tonight. It's v-very generous of you."

There's obviously more to it than her being thankful, she had absolutely no reason to act so nervous in stating something so simple. While I'm not doubting that she is genuinely grateful, something tells me that that isn't all she's feeling at this point. Pondering this, I quizzically raise an eyebrow at her, even though I know her face is too close to mine for her to see it, and ask, "Is that all?"

No response for the moment. Then, after a quick sigh and her eyes shutting, comes a whispered, unsure, very quick, "Maybe."

I pull my head back to look at her, slightly out of reflex, and even under the extremely dim light of my electric lamp I can see her cheeks turning a bright rosy-red. Before I can reply to this, even find my bearings that I lost in seeing the adorable blush in her face, she begins a query of her own, holding the same shaky tone.

"I-is there, um- a- anything you want to.. tell, m-me?"

Jesus help me. I need it, because this is it. I don't want to have to hold it in any longer, I've gone all these months without telling her, and the secret needs to end right here. I'm almost in panic now, and I don't even know why. She isn't the first girl I've admitted my feelings to, and she may not be the last, but just being that it is her.. Fluttershy.. in the flesh. I can hardly breathe.

Being half way to completely love blinded at this point, I conjure something up sloppily and quickly as a response. Something that is better than just sitting here and telling her I like her as much more than a friend. Something that I don't see the cheesiness of at this point, but is still better than just telling her. To me it seems better, anyway.

Well. Here it goes.

"Actually.. there is something I need to tell you, Fluttershy," again, using her full name, "but I HAVE to whisper it, okay?" I inform her.

"Oh? Well, okay," she replies hushedly.

Just say it man. Say it. It's all coasting from here, you just gotta crest the hill. Don't be a- I cut off the nerdy voice in my head by finally taking its advice.

"Yes, I really have to. But," I pause for a moment before pushing the cart down the soapbox hill, "I can't whisper it into your ear."

Her breathing stops. Even the rain seems silent. The only sound ringing in my ears is my own heartbeat. The expression on Fluttershy's face is so unique; she's managing to look thoroughly confused, but at the same time, the way she is staring into my eyes is telling me that she knows exactly what is coming next. And she looks like she's been waiting for it for a long, long time.

In what seems to be a flash where time stops at point A, then resumes at point B, I move my forehead back to hers, ever so gently, and use it to tilt both our heads up.

Just an inch. Just an inch or two.

Before either of us even know its happening, I've closed all the space between mine and Fluttershy's lips. And, to me at least, it is the most magical thing I've ever felt. A millisecond into this kiss, and it's already better than any of the others.

Millisecond two arrives, and Fluttershy lets out a muffled squeak from our sudden liplock. Her breathing instantly hightens to a point that makes it seem extremely exaggerated, but begins to slow as I stand my ground. When her breathing has nearly returned to normal, her fingertips slowly flatten on my right cheek to make way for a palm. The full of her hand now rests wholly on the side of my face, and she slowly melts into a warm puddle against me.

The now passing seconds, which I notice due to the ticking analog clock on my dresser (which is indeed loud enough to be heard over the storm), seem to have the time contained in them multiplied by ten. Now our lips are no longer locking, but rather they are flowing freely against each other in a setting rhythm, like steady waves against the sands of the Gulf coast.

I didn't catch it at first, but now I'm shaking in the same manner as Fluttershy has been throughout the happenings of the last couple minutes. Not only that, but we're doing it together. We are both just as much of a mental wreck as the other, and we don't care in the slightest. Her lips are even softer than the fingers she held to my face, and the way they caress mine tell me that she is enjoying herself just as much, if not more, than I'm enjoying myself. She is putting all her energy into our passing moments of such an intimate ecstasy; she has longed for this. I allow her to pull my top lip between both of hers, where she ever so delicately pulls and releases in a magical pulsation, then commands them to let go and allow my lip to fall from hers, causing a very audible, moist smack every time she lets go and returns for more.

This is amazing. The only thought that I can shove through my mental gate keeps repeating in a slow, snail's crawl fashion. I've kissed girls before, so I have a fairly clear idea of what good is. And while Fluttershy has relatively no experience in the art of kissing, the simplicity and innocence of her being is causing my mind to quake. There are girls out there that have excessive experience, and they tend to take the lead and get fancy with the way they kiss. While this isn't exactly a bad thing, conversely, it makes any make-out session with this type of girl feel more like a race than an intimate moment with your significant other. With this girl, however, things are completely different. She has made no attempt to lead the situation, nor has she fallen behind and forced me to lead the kissing. Her lips keep PERFECT time with mine, right down to a T, almost as if.. almost as if our lips were made for the other's. As corny and cliched as that may sound.

Now that things are just getting more and more passionate, my mind stops thinking legible thoughts. Ihh uhm- yeaahgha uhhhhmmmmm.. "Mmmmm.." is all I can manage to bring out of the office, my moans waltzing through the sound barrier with hers in their arms as they gracefully swing with a slow beat and light footsteps. After the first of each of our moans, her hand moves from my cheek to brush through my hair, and stops at the back of my head to pull my lips even deeper into hers. I begin stroking her back in the same manner as before, and allow her to pull me in even more by letting out all of my breath, pressing my chest as far down as it will go. Our kisses continue, her lower lip quivering between each of mine before each release. Mouths begin to open, and our tongues touch in light brushes as our lips meet each other time and time again, giving me a taste of her mouth with each repetition. Not just the taste of skin, but the taste of pure bliss; only what I could ever imagine that being anyway, hanging on her lips with each loving tug. The taste of hanging from a cliff- awaiting that moment when you finally let go, only to grab firmly onto yet another rocky ledge, that somehow seems to be as smooth as satin. The taste of love, life, anything I could ever want- and the cool leftovers of spearmint toothpaste.

Though there are good things in this world, all good things eventually come to an end. On one final approach, our lips strike and release in perfect harmony, and they fall from each other like a fall sunset leaves the horizon. Slowly, perfectly, beautifully, having less and less contact until the final little point pulls apart. I slowly pull my head back into her hand to see her large, only half-opened cyan eyes staring up at me, an unabashed, toothless smile gracing my eyes with its adorableness. Her lower lip then slides under her top teeth, and as she bites her lower lip in trying to contain her sanity from what has just transpired, she removes her hand from the back of my head to take my top hand, and slowly move it toward- her chest?

I can understand kissing, but we just began knowing our true feelings for each other a couple of minutes ago. There is no way I'm going to chance ruining it by taking things too far in our first time together that reached such a level of passion.

As I open my mouth to object, she cuts me off as if knowing that I was going to do so.

"Trust me. It's not what you think, I promise," she whispers, voice still trembling.

I do as she asks, and I trust her. Though I am reluctant in doing so, it proves to be a pay off as she places the flat of my hand over her heart, the beating being so heavy that I'm now worrying about her safety. I don't want her to sit here and have a heart attack, but I still realize what she is doing, as well as what she is about to say.

Through a clear, unshaking, comfortable whisper, she states, "I just wanted you to know what you do to me, Evan. Not just from what just got done happening, but- every single time I've so much as thought of you for the past few months. My heart has never failed to be set aflutter when it happens." Her shy roots begin to come back into play, and she adds with a quick grin and light squint, "Um- if that's okay with you of course."

Left unable to reply to her sentiment, the sweet serendipity of our newfound infatuation takes me over, making my mouth release a light chuckle, and I return my hands to around her hips to pull our chests together. I can now feel her heartbeat next to mine, as I'm sure she can feel the same of mine.

"Hmmmmmmm.." Fluttershy hums behind her soft, ever so delicate lips. The same lips that I now want to call home, and never have to take a vacation from. She definitely can feel my heartbeat beside hers too.

Wait- why is it so quiet? As soon as I ask myself this, I realize the answer. The rain has stopped. There hasn't been any thunder for the past several minutes, and I'm honestly finding it hard to believe that the storm passed so quickly. I lean up on my elbow to check my overly obnoxious clock, to see that I've been kissing the pink-haired beauty beside me for nearly 20 minutes. It really is amazing how much time flies when you find yourself falling in love.

"Fluttershy," I ring, "the storm is over. You can go back to your bed now if you'd like."

Her face lowers slightly and her gaze averts to the side, pondering what she should answer with. After a few seconds, she finally returns her eyes to mine, letting her eyelids droop slightly, and answers in an almost blissful tone.

"Um, do you think that maybe, this could be my bed from now on out? That really would make me ever so happy."

I stare back into her eyes as the question continues to reel through my head as I had heard it. Before I even get a chance to answer however, her tone drops instantly and she adds in her normal voice, "I mean, just if that's okay with-"

Her sentence is stopped by me stealing a quick kiss to stop the shy conclusion to her query, earning another soft moan, and I release the kiss to say in my own tone of bliss, "That would make me ever so happy as well."

At that, I pull her back into me with the hands still connected behind her hips on the small of her back, and she nuzzles her face into the space below my chin. Not able to restrain myself, I begin to hold onto her like she's the most important thing in the world to me. And, in all reality, she is. I could pick her over anything at this point in time. A house, my car, friends, family, music, money- life- I would have her over all of it.

It's taken a matter of minutes to create something beautiful between the two of us. Being that we've liked each other in such a way for such a time, it feels like we've been together as more than best friends ever since she arrived through the portal. Looking back on the times we had already shared together before tonight, I can see all of her actions that made her true feelings ever so obvious. Actions that quietly passed me by. Just laying here feeling her breathe on my neck makes me so anxious to see everyone's, and everypony's, happy and excited expressions when we get to tell them all about our newfound companionship. When I get to tell them of my newfound desire, and can step over and point at the gorgeous young girl that will be by my side every step of the way. It's taken a matter of minutes. Tens of minutes, and this beautifully sweet love has taken root.

All I can do now is lay here, and wonder what can, and will, be done with a lifetime of letting it grow.

Book 2: The Aftermath

Surprise second chapter and "incomplete" tag. You're welcome (:

The Aftermath

All things good must come to an end. A statement to which the deep slumber I was in a moment ago is no exception. However, it's not as big of a deal as one may think; I just had the most restful night of sleep I've had in a very long time, and I had it right beside the girl that I may have been looking for my entire life. Nothing is bad about the situation I am in, it has been nearly perfect.

I slowly open my eyes, which quickly adjust to the early morning light, and peer over to the obnoxious clockwork lazing on my dresser. Suddenly, I realize the emptiness my bed holds, and it isn't kind.

Now, I'm awake.

Things normally wouldn't be out of place, except that the analog is ticking its way into 6:30 AM, and Fluttershy doesn't ever wake up this early unless she has pressing or otherwise urgent matters to take care of. And those normally just consist of taking one of my two dogs on a morning walk or feeding them or the cat. Why would she get up early today? It's a Saturday..

I ponder on the thought for a moment before a memory hits me. Not some memory from months or weeks, even days ago, but rather one from about 7 hours ago. A memory of the position I fell asleep in, which is all that my mind sees and focuses on. The only problem with this memory, however, is the lack of a certain pink-haired victim of infatuation being huddled against me in it. Every blanket and pillow on my bed remains in their rightful places, none disturbed by anyone other than me. I notice this as I turn over to my left to see no evidence of any other soul being with me the night before. The next thought-styled realization I come to sours my throat, and pierces my heart without a hint of mercy.

It.. was a dream..

A dream. A figment of one's imagination.. my imagination. I suddenly run through an indescribable mix of emotions as the thought trails its way through my brain, ranging from sadness, to hopelessness, to anger, and back to sadness as my heart hits the bottom of my stomach.

I let my head rest back on my pillow as the worst sinking feeling racks my body. It felt so real, how in the world could my mind have held something so intricately detailed? Yes, I've always liked her a little more than as a friend, but I had no idea that my mind could make wishes on its own and then play them on the Broadway stage that is itself with such direction and purpose. To be completely honest, and extremely simple, I feel like crying. I can feel the tears welling up inside my throat, but I won't let them out. Just being the logical person that I am, I know that it could never do any good anyhow.

Forgetting about the whole situation for long enough to make my body move, I non-chalantly toss my blankets away and force my feet to pick my dragging body up from its perch on the bedside. I stand and give a half-hearted stretch to get the muscles moving, and trudge out of my bedroom to the top of the stairs. From here, I can hear her delicate, nearly silent snoring coming from the guest room, which causes my situation to be all the more painful and causes the feeling of sinking to return with a vengeance. I feel the sudden urge to clasp the shirt fabric over my heart with a grieved hand, but it has been enough of a chore to simply stand up and walk.

I force my feet into motion once more, and make my way down the stairs and into the kitchen to begin on breakfast for one, rather than two.

Deciding that it wouldn't be a fun idea to cook in my current state, I settle my eyes on a box of Pop Tarts that rests in the food cabinet. I pull the box away from its resting place and lift one of the wrapped packages out as if it had a fifty pound weight inside. Setting the package on the counter, I turn to put the box back in the cabinet, but another realization hits me.

Where did I get these? I didn't think I had bought these in months. While the thought of many-month-old Pop Tarts is slightly unappetizing to me, I lack the ability to care about the taste right now, because the one thing that my care is focused on never even occurred. So without too much hesitation, I put the box away and snap into one of the bland toaster pastries before I decide against it.

Hmm.. not bad, I think before my taste buds fully kick in. The taste is definitely strange, but it isn't because of age. I make a beeline back to the cabinet and pull the box down, reading aloud to myself to make sure I wasn't having some kind of sudden-stress hallucination.

"New, pizza flavored?"

Wait.. that's right. It was a promotional thing the company did a while back to experiment with 'wilder' flavors to see how many daredevils would buy the products. I just happened to be one of them. Heck, I can even remember the commercials for them now. At the end where the Pop Tarts guy pops out of the logo, he sports an Italian style moustache and a tall chef's hat.

Not thinking much more of it, I finish the interesting treats and make my way to the back door in a melancholy fashion, shoulders slumped and feet not making it off the ground.

My back door is fairly interesting really, it is of a style popular in the late 80's when this house was built. The frame is made of wood that is painted a bright white to contrast with the walls, which are a bright shade of maroon. Everything inside the four or so inches of framing used to hold the door's being, however, is made of thick glass. There is an exact copy of itself on the left side of it, except this clone is a mere window rather than a door. A back side layout of this sort allows you to see the entirety of my back deck, and to see the gorgeous scenery that is my back yard. Directly in front of my deck is a large oak tree, set off to the left, whose leaves and branches hang down into the view of a treeline 200 or so yards back. The house sits on a downhill slope, so the deck rests about 10 feet off of the ground. The slope continues past the deck all the way to the tree, having its base down another couple feet, so the base of the limbs is right about eye level with the back door. Everything to the right of this is open back yard and treeline.

As I look into the view and take in the morning's warmth, my body suddenly feels very strange, as if it knows something.. terrible.. is about to happen. Before I get too great an opportunity to wonder what it is, Fluttershy startles me half to death by screaming my name at the top of her lungs from the upstairs bedroom. For sake of comparison, think of the tone, stretch, and terror she held when she screamed the word 'avalanche' in Dragonshy.

I jump back out of reflex, my body suddenly running wild with sensory information, and I rush my gaze to the sky where I see..

No.. it can't be..

Sirens begin blaring as if they were right next to me as I see a mushroom cloud jut into the sky, forming a ring of red hellfire on the horizon. Everything begins materializing to white around me..

* * *

"AHH!" I scream briefly as I jerk into consciousness. I sit up in my bed too quickly for my mind to register, and my body retains a fuzziness that keeps me frozen in place as my breathing holds its accelerated pace.

However, this time, I'm not the only one to wake up. Fluttershy jumps from sleep as well, and sits up beside me and places a hand on my chest in an attempt to calm me down.

"Evan. Evan," she tries, as my limbs remain weighted where they are. After a few more repetitions of my name, she effectively has me calmed down enough to think.

That was legitimately scary. It wasn't really all that logical, nor was it horror, but it still managed to frighten me. My thoughts about the night terror end quickly though, due to one important detail of my current being. Wait.. Fluttershy is next to me. In my bed. IT WASN'T A DREAM AFTER ALL!

Sweeping relief replaces all the feelings of terror and stress that filled my body just previously, and I let out a sigh of contentment and utter happiness.

"Evan? What happened? Are you okay?" Fluttershy spoke quite groggily, to say the least, but I feel excited that she legitimately cares, and just as importantly, that last night happened!!

I chuckle softly at the situation I am in, which I nearly thought I'd missed out on, and continue to tell her what happened.

"Nothing major, Shy. Just a night terror." Upon saying this, I realize the manner-less machinery beside me reads 5 AM. "Well, more of a morning terror I guess," I correct myself, "I'll tell you about it in a few hours though, okay?"

She lets a quiet yawn fly by, the adorableness causing a smile to form across my lips, and she replies, "Okay, in a few hours."

At this, we simultaneously lay back down in the positions we are currently in. I put my hands behind my head and lay on them to stare at the ceiling, while Fluttershy lays her head on my chest and keeps her hand and arm over me. The sensation of relief only grows in me as her forehead touches my jaw and comes to rest on it, reminding me of just how real our situation is. With the newfound security I possess now that I'm out of my mind's twisted, sick joke of a creation, I pass out in a matter of seconds.

* * *

The dark absence slowly fades from me as I begin to wake once again. I open my eyes and look to the window across the room, where I see the light of the sun pouring in at a low angle, letting me know that it is still fairly early. I don't even bother to check the clock, my feet and legs are my top priorities at the moment. And they NEED to move.

Speaking of move, I begin to think, Fluttershy and I have moved some. Where is she?

As quickly as my curiosity brings itself forward, it retreats away again as I feel someone stirring behind me. A pair of small kneecaps connect with the backsides of my hamstrings, and I feel a hand on my shoulder and a warm mass against my back. After a quick deduction to two conclusions, I recite them to myself in my head.

Okay. Either I was raped last night and the offender has fallen asleep, or Fluttershy and I are spooning. And I'm little spoon.

Fortunately enough, it's obviously the latter. As Fluttershy stops moving, she releases a drawn out breath and I feel her stomach and chest lose pressure with my back. I do my best to hold completely still to prevent her from waking up, and after a moment or two she seems to be in a deep enough state of rest for me to attempt getting up.

Before I make said attempt, I sense a bar suddenly drop somewhere in my mind. It's my manliness meter taking a dive. The simple fact that I'm little spoon makes me feel less like a man, as much as I hate to be stereotypical like that, but at the same time I don't mind the descent from masculinity. It just happened over sleep time, and I can't complain because it's with Fluttershy. In fact, I may actually prefer this over getting up.

No, I scold myself, if you don't get up now you won't be up until noon. Go downstairs and get breakfast before you try to doze off again.

Taking my own mental advice, I reluctantly turn over a bit and carefully remove Fluttershy's hand from my shoulder, placing it in front of her stomach. Tossing the covers back just enough for me to slide out, I gently put my feet on the floor and rise slowly to prevent the bed springs from creaking too loudly.

I make my way all the way up and erect my back, eliciting a few pleasurable cracks from the center of my spine, and I turn around to look at the girl still sleeping in my bed as I scratch my side and run the free hand through my greasy blonde hair. What I see causes both hands to slowly drop at an instant, and I find myself unable to keep my mouth from becoming slightly ajar before the sight.

If I had never seen beauty before, but had only heard of such a concept, this would be what I imagined. Fluttershy's hands are now within one another, huddled at the center of her chest, which is now rising and falling steadily with her pattern of breathing. The lower half of her body has kept its original sideways position, top knee bent over the lower and touching the bed, while her torso must have rolled over some when I got up, as she is now nearly facing the ceiling with fallen back hair. The thick pink locks are in a light mess, as sleep often causes, but the way they fall across her neck and spill from her head onto my pillow makes her look like an angel whose hair is flowing with a light breeze. To top it all off, her mouth isn't as neutral as the face of sleep should be. There is a light curl to each side of her lips; her mouth is nearly forming a smile.

The amount of gorgeousness focused at such a small epicenter is almost unnerving. I'm not ugly by any means, a lot of girls seem to find me attractive, but I'm definitely no Calvin Klein model. The relationship between these statements, though, is that I have issues seeing any girl as amazing as her deciding to make a move toward me. I have always seen her as the kind of girl to win the "Best All Around" in the senior superlatives section of a yearbook, not the kind to settle for your average social standing high-schooler that was hardly lucky enough to win "Best Smile". Either way, I don't have a doubt that I view Fluttershy through rose-colored glasses in a few ways, and it has to be from liking her as more than a friend for such an amount of time, but I definitely can't complain. I was blessed enough to find her those months back, and I'll be contented with the situation I'm in no matter what I say to try to convince myself otherwise.

I cut my stare away from her form and redirect my focus toward the blankets, which I pull gently to her collar and tuck gently around her neck. The light touches cause her to stir a bit, forcing a toothless smile to morph onto my face, and I turn on my heel as it fades to walk toward the stairwell.

Once my feet hit tile at the bottom floor of my house, the coolness of the gray stone flooring sends shockwaves through my legs. Once the tingling subsides, I make a brisk walk toward the cabinets in the kitchen to begin the search for breakfast.

Wow, I'm really hungry, I think to myself, as it is very unusual for me to be in a state of near starvation right after waking up. Then again, I'm sure I used up quite a bit of energy last night.

I begin to rummage through the cabinets with an involuntarily strong intent. Yes, I'm quite hungry and all of these breakfast items are looking incredible, but I just ate 12 hours ago. I find myself telling myself that myself should probably calm down before myself wakes up someone else's myself. And yes, in those exact words. My mind in the morning is even more of a train wreck than it is in the middle of the night.

After a short pause, my eyes pass over the Bisquick and tiptoe their way over to the waffle iron sitting on the counter; I haven't had waffles in a long time, either. Without even giving my choices a second weigh-in, I yank the box from the cabinet and plug the iron in. Thank goodness there's something besides pizza flavored Pop Tarts.

Upon thinking this, my mind goes back to thinking about the night terror as I quickly move through the steps to make enough waffle mix for three or four of them. I normally only eat two, but I figure I may as well make Fluttershy some breakfast while I'm at it. Gotta be a gentleman where it's due. Anyways, stepping away from that tangent, I begin thinking about the abrupt wake up and sensation of shock that swept from my head down to my feet. About the situation that set the feeling off, and how my body could sense it before waking. I also think about the situation itself, everything that lead up to the 'terror' aspect of the night terror, and what a realistic reaction would have been like in general. With all of this criss-crossing like a spider's web through my mind, I find all of the strands pointing to one realization.

That night terror, like most, was STUPID. The only part of the dream that was even remotely frightening that I can recollect was the absence of Fluttershy, and that was more heart-breaking than it was frightening. I can't stop myself from releasing a drawn out chuckle at how scared I was of something so ridiculous as a mushroom cloud from out of the great blue yonder, and I settle myself and open the now fully heated appliance.

I begin pouring the batter onto the waffle iron, and a high pitched sizzling erupts from its surface. It's honestly one of the best sounds in the world in my opinion, regardless of its resemblance to a choir of snakes, because its pairing with the smell makes the mouth water like Niagra. A light smell of charcoal masked over by sweet flour and egg product which makes me nearly want to jump in the air for the joy that my tastebuds will soon be receiving.

I hold myself back from any aerial displays, and flip the first waffle out of its seat with a spatula and onto a plate. I grab the cup of batter to begin the next, but I hear a faint noise from the stairwell. I pause for a short while, cup in hand over the iron, and a few more noises rattle to my ears in the form of footsteps.

And here she comes.. I think to myself. On cue to the thought, Fluttershy appears at the base of the stairs in the foyer and begins shuffling her way towards the kitchen. She makes it to the center of the entrance to the kitchen, which is about ten feet from where I'm currently standing, and she stops and tilts her head toward the ground as she begins shifting weight between her feet. She stands with one hand over the other in front of her, remaining slightly slouched to let her view the floor easier as her gaze shifts from a tile on her left to a tile on her right. A few seconds of silence let's me know that she's burning to say something, I just don't know what it's going to be.

A good 20 seconds crawl by in relative silence after I sit the cup back on the counter, when finally she speaks what has been trying to get out.

"So, um. It- it wasn't a dream?" she asks as a blush begins to form on her cheeks.

Wow, definitely wasn't expecting that. I fumble with making a response in my mind for a moment or two, some creations ranging from sentences to paragraphs in length, but I eventually settle for the choice that is easiest.

"Sure wasn't," I reply with a hushed and creaky morning voice. The voice isn't even a worry, however, because something odd is happening to me. I feel a cold heat rushing its way toward my face, suddenly making itself comfortable on my cheeks, and before I think that death is upon me, I notice that I am instead blushing.

Along with the rarity that is me blushing comes the audacity of the past several hours hitting me like a freight train. Just as if last night was a part of everyday life, I hadn't thought about it much since my last wake up, and now the thoughts and emotion come rolling over me, further deepening the redness on my face.

I look back toward the counter with a crooked smile, and tilt my eyes back to her to see her face redden even more. This is no doubt due to her noticing my own state of bashfulness. She realizes that I've noticed her face as well, because she now has looked so far down as to let her hair fall into her face. This is a common move by Fluttershy, somewhat equivalent to a child hiding under their blanket when they are too scared- or nervous- to face something and remain unshaking.

Just to tease her a bit to ease the tension, I pull up my own method of silence breakery. "Why are you hiding behind your hair from me Shy?" I ask in a perfectly normal tone, "There's nothing to be afraid of. I mean, yeah I look scary in the morning, but I never knew it was this bad." I make sure to emphasize the word 'this'.

"Oh no, it's not that, it's nothing- really-" she replies in a rushed fashion. She begins to stammer even more through her incoherent thoughts before I wave a hand in the air to hush her and bring her attention back to me.

"Would you like me to make you some waffles?" I ask politely, motioning toward the scalding appliance.

She seems to think about it for a second, before she finally exhales sharply and replies, "Yes, that would be lovely right now."

As I pour the next blob of batter onto the iron from the mixing cup, Fluttershy goes across the kitchen to sit down on one of the two backed bar stools that sit under an extension of the countertop. The extension has three wooden supports under it, giving the image of an actual diner bar, and it is used for the same purpose as one in a diner would serve.

It doesn't take long for the mouth-watering sounds and smells to hit my sensory organs yet again, and as they do so, I can't stop myself from beginning to sing.

Now, it isn't exactly the work that's making me sing so much as it is the fact that I sing nonstop to begin with. I sing when I'm happy, sad, angry, tired, confused, or any other emotion really; as well as when I work, rest, play, and sometimes, even when I sleep. I even go so far as to sing over my Xbox Live headset, to which I often get replies consisting of: "Evan! Focus on the game!" or, "Evan! Sing on your own time, it's getting annoying!" Normal conversation is also unbarred from the list of situations in which I do so, and people that know me normally just wait for it to pass when it occurs.

Even though it's a Saturday, I begin to sing Sunday Morning by Maroon 5; Adam's voice being the one I closest resemble. I pass through the first verses, making sure not to be overly loud, and fade out and resort to humming once I hit the chorus.

At first I begin to think that it went unnoticed, as it normally does because people expect it from me at pretty much all times of the day. Fluttershy manages to confound these thoughts, however, when she shyly points out, "I really like your singing, I always have you know--"

"Thank you. You know, you tell me that all the time. Why so shy about it all of a sudden?" I ask, regardless of the fact that I already know why.

"Well, um- it just, kinda, feels different I guess. After- you know." She stops for a pause and begins twiddling her thumbs.

After a brief silence, I finally add, "-Last night?"

She doesn't really react to my finishing statement, but she manages to look at me with a sheepish smile and nod her head yes.

"So, was it wrong of me to do what I did? In the heat of the moment and all?" I am able to ask with a generally high level of comfort due to my intense extroversion, and as if taken by surprise, she wastes no time in belting out an answer.

"Oh not at all!" she says before gaining a bit of her normal demeanor back and continuing, "I mean, it was really the most right thing your probably could have done." Her cheeks take on a bright rosy shade before continuing. "I- I've just been holding my feelings in for way too long. It really feels good to be able to show them now. Wait, I mean, I can show them now, right? If- if that's okay with you?"

I can't help but giggle giddily at her reply, the fact that she's being so Fluttershy-ish is definitely not helping me hold it back any, and I speak once I'm able to cut it out.

"Well, I guess you can show them now. But! Only because I know the feeling of holding it in so well ever since you came here."

She smiles at this and attempts to hide her face again behind her glistening pink hair. I catch her action out of the corner of my eye, as I had just turned back to the iron, and it inspires me to just sit the spatula down and go sit by her. So, I follow the call of inspiration and do just that.

I take the other bar stool and scoot it to where it is nearly touching hers, and I take her hand and interlock our fingers as I begin to make casual conversation.

"So, you come here often?" I ask in a brief moment of jest.

"Oh ha-ha-ha," she laughs with a smile in complete sarcasm at my corny one-liner.

"You know, that really doesn't answer my question," I reply.

"I find myself here far too much I think. I really should get a hobby, maybe I'll look into taking care of animals!" she states, squeezing my hand.

"Wow, Shy. Wow. So OOC."

"Wait, huh?" she wonders, genuinely confused.

"Heh heh, nothing. Forget I said anything," I retort.

"Well, um, okay," she replies.

I take a second to chuckle at my noticing of her out-of-character reply to my statement, which has begun happening more and more as time has passed. She really has reached a whole new level of comfort with me, and I can't help but appreciate that at it's fullest extent.

I massage her hand with my thumb in the continuing silence, and I decide to actually ask her a legitimate question.

"Fluttershy, have I ever told you just how cute you look in those pajamas?"

Rather than her face playing hide-and-seek in her hair, she giggles and places her free hand over her openly smiling mouth. "Nope- never," she replies as her giggling dies down, "so, um, how much is that- exactly?" Even though her response was a little spaced and she seemed unsure of her words, she moved in toward me as she spoke.

"Quite a bit, actually. It really is," I reply, smiling and moving back a tad out of instinct.

She seems satisfied with that answer, as she smiles genuinely and begins a question of her own. "So, um, did I ever tell you--"

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP- the smoke detector cuts her question off as I facepalm in realization that I had forgotten about the iron in the past few minutes of conversation. I release her hand and rush over to the iron, opening it to reveal a nearly charred waffle sitting in its grooves. In the process, Fluttershy rushes over to the smoke detector with a dish towel and begins fanning it until it finally shuts up.

I begin rubbing the back of my neck out of slight embarrassment, and looking over to her, I follow the mistake with yet another ridiculous one-liner. Don't judge, it's who I am!

"Breakfast- is served?" I state questioningly, shrugging my shoulders and gaining a look that yells 'oops' so I don't have to do it vocally.

While it was stupid, my half-baked sense of humor seems to have her amused, as she tosses the dish towel onto the counter as she walks back and embraces me in a tight hug around my neck. Of course I have no problem returning it, but that doesn't stop me from being slightly confused as to the reasoning behind it.

We release the hug, but do not leave each others' contact: I maintain my hold on her waist, while she slides her hands down my arms to rest at the bends of my elbows. Our stomachs never part.

"Wow, I'm not really that funny am I?" I ask as I stare into her gorgeous aquamarine irises.

"You are, but that's not why I wanted to hug you," she states plainly, seeming to keep her raised comfort level. "It honestly just feels great to be this way after five months of waiting."

While it's obvious that she wasn't intending to do so, her statement puts my heart in my feet as the weight of what I've made her hold out on all this time drops onto it. I can instantly feel my smile fade. While it is amazing getting to know that she really has liked me for this long, conversely, I am almost hating myself for making her wait so long for me to finally man up.

Again, her mental connection with me let's her know what the loss of giddiness is about, and she speaks to me almost in the way a caretaker would to comfort a child.

"I don't mind it at all, you know why? Because it's given the both of us plenty of time to become best friends."

"So now we'll just grow closer and closer, but in a completely different way?" I ask, following her thoughts.

"That's all I can hope for," she finishes quietly with a light blush.

Though a little bit of the falling stillness is still there, my smile halfway returns, and I can say honestly that the happy is outweighing the other feelings I have right now. However, there's another feeling I sense growing inside me that's hardly even a feeling. More of an, urge. It's an urge that I actually know all too well, but have only consented to one other time in the past several months. Now that the urge has just cause to present itself, I can't see any sense in gating it in rather than letting it be free to fulfill the want that it seeks.

"Fluttershy, would it be okay if I- well-" I begin, but am unable to complete the request. So, rather than doing so, I simply pull her body closer into mine and hope that she catches the drift, making sure to be respectful of whether she wants this or not. While there's no doubt in my mind that she does, she's the very essence of kindness, and I plan on showing her the same reverance that she shows me on a daily basis.

Her first answer is her sliding her hands back to my shoulders as she looks down, letting out a muffled hum. "It's more than okay with me, if it's okay with you that is-" is her second reply. It's quiet and comforting, but also eager in it's own 'Fluttershy's natural shyness' type of way.

Of course, being that it's me, those are really all the answers I need. My top two love languages are physical touch and quality time after all, as I had learned in a high school phsycology course, and I've never found anything to be more special than being stuck in the arms of a significant other at a random time of the day. Now that it's with the girl of my dreams, I could easily pick this single moment over a week-long luxury vacation without her.

Well, here it goes. Again, I think in brief reminiscence of the night before.

I slowly lean in and allow my eyes to fall closed, pulling her closer along the way, but stop a mere two inches or less from her face. With my eyes being closed, I can't tell the exact distance, but I know I'm close due to the shortened breath I feel on the lower half of my face.

Five seconds pass by so slowly that it feels like a half a minute or better, but we still remain frozen in place. I don't retreat however, nor do I rush forward. I made the first time happen, so in my mind, it's her turn to make the final call.

Yet another 5 seconds pass, and I feel her breath stop. Wondering what is going on, I begin to open my eyes, but I squeeze them shut again the second her lips finally make contact with mine.

Wow. they don't feel any different than how I remember them.

No other spoken thoughts make it through my head as the kiss continues. I simply think of the comparison of her lips to something beautiful. Something so warm- so unbelievably soft- it feels feels like kissing moist layered-over rose petals that spent a day in the early summer sun.

The feeling that rushes up my spine as my heart hits the top of my head forces a long moan out as it travels upward. I don't normally do this, especially at first contact, but this is the most amazing thing I've ever felt. With this knowledge comes the realization that 90% of the reason this is so amazing is because of who it is with, not what it feels like. Even though, hers are by far the most amazing lips I've ever felt.

As I begin to let my legs rest, I lean back on the counter as Fluttershy pushes herself in closer. The lock continues, and when I finally stop moving back, Fluttershy keeps moving forward to the point that she is now standing on my feet with her toes. Then, without warning, it begins again- the ever so perfect timing that made the whole of those last night's few minutes feel like a mix between having a God-bestowed dream and finally making it to heaven. With every falling away, our lips don't cease to meet again; my top lip falling between her's, her bottom lip falling between mine.

She moves her hands off of my shoulders and locks her arms behind my neck. As we both begin to shutter with little control, the smoke detector goes off again in it's monotonous beeping. Once more, I realize that I STILL had not turned the iron off, nor had I even taken the charred breakfast cake out of its holder. A smell similar to burning cardboard now hits me through the still-flowery smell of Fluttershy's hair, and I move a hand from her waist to turn the dial off on the appliance.

Well, apparently she wasn't even going to have that. Without so much as missing a beat up top, she moves her hand out to meet mine, and places it on the small of her back before returning her arm to the locked position behind my head. In all reality, neither of us cared enough to fix the situation anyway.

After a minute or two of us glued in our loving embrace and the house continuing to fill with smoke, our lips finally meet in a magical unison and fall away like the ending of a drive in movie. For those that have never been to a drive in movie, the ending for some reason always seems like the best part. We each further tighten our hold on one another, and she puts her head into the groove of my jaw as we slowly sway back and forth. As she plants a quick kiss on my neck, I shakily whisper into her ear, "Um, we m-may wanna, you know, get the fire hazard taken care of. Before the- ehem- house, you know, burns down."

She doesn't speak, but releases her hold on me and steps off of my feet before grabbing the dish towel and returning to the smoke detector to fan it off. I grab the spatula and, very carefully, lift the brick from the iron and carry it over to the trashcan.

Oh man. I can't wait to start every day with her.

* * *

As we sit at the bar finishing our breakfast, we don't cease to make plenty of personal conversation between our mouthfuls of waffle. Honestly, things are going more smoothly with her now than things were two nights ago when we were still just best friends. Most, if not all shy girls, would be awkward in these newfound boyfriend situations, but it's become extremely obvious throughout our breakfast convo that Fluttershy is more comfortable with me than she is with some of her own friends.

"So that's what your night terror was really about?" Fluttershy asks after swallowing a small chunk of her breakfast.

"I know right? It was ridiculous!" I exclaim while knifing through a large section of my second breakfast treat.

"So, tell me then, what would you do if that really was to happen?" she quizzes before forking another piece of food into her mouth.

"Well, I would probably use the 10 seconds we would have left to run upstairs, hug you as tightly as possible without hurting you, kiss you as much as I could in the little time we would have left, and tell you that-"

I cut myself off to think as she stops chewing for a moment, swallows, and proceeds to ask, "What would you tell me?"

"Well, 'see you in heaven' or something like that I guess. It would have to be a spur of the moment type thing for me to really know what I would say." As I finish my reply, I pick up the last, rather large piece of my second waffle and pig it down. As I do though, an idea pops into my head that I know won't leave me until I bow to its wishes. Darn brain, I think in mock anger.

"You know, Shy," I begin, "I've been really bored just sitting around the house the last couple of days." Now, don't get the wrong idea, I have a job. A fairly well-paying job for the work that I do. I am payed on commission, so if I make enough money in a two-week period, I will take three or so days off to alleviate the tension that the previous weeks bring forth. "So, I was kind of wondering if you would like to be my date to dinner and a late movie tonight."

At hearing this, her head darts up to nowhere, and her aquamarine eyes look everywhere but mine as she tries to cook up an answer. Before she can finish being the chef to her own thoughts, however, she begins a nervous ramble consisting mostly of 'oh' and 'um'.

Deciding it would be a good idea to not let her get too lost in her search for words, I intervene. Placing a finger up to her lips to stop the flow of syllables, I ask, "Why are you so nervous? You came out with your feelings to me last night, and even kissed me earlier without this much trouble. What's going on?"

She hesitates to answer at first, but after an apparent mental battle with herself, she voices her response. "Well, I guess now would be as good a time as ever to tell you that I've never- really- actually- been on a date before."

I blink at her response, surely managing to look bewildered, but in reality I'm extremely relieved. This means that I'll get to take her on her first date ever!

"Shy, it'll be just like all the other times that we hang out!" I pause for a brief moment before adding the catch, "Except this time you can be open about the way you feel about me. And, in return, I'll do the same for you."

Taking a moment to ponder the situation, she finally nods and says, "Okay then. Yes."

In a very overdramatic fashion, I mouth the word 'yes' and fist pump the air, then return to my original position and facial expression as quickly as it took my fist to sail through the small space of atmosphere beside my head. This elicits a giddy giggle from Fluttershy, who still seems to be amused by my dumb sense of humor, and she stands up from the chair and speaks when her laughing finally docks to language.

"I'm gonna go get a shower now, be back in a bit."

She plants a quick kiss on the top of my head as she walks behind me, and continues through the kitchen and upstairs where I hear the bathroom door shut behind her.

Now that I'm sitting here staring at the wall, I find myself thinking about the night ahead. I'm gonna need to do everything right tonight to make this her best date ever. I mean yeah, it's her only date ever so far, but it's her first one. This date will have a special place in her heart, and will set the bar for the rest of our dates to reach. So then again, I may not wanna make it TOO great.

One more thought manages to enter my head though. One that I've never had a problem with until now, simply because of what the girl does to me. Watch your tongue, Jenkins. You almost spilled the no-no phrase when you were talking about what you should say if your night terror were to come true. 'I love you' is a long way away, I don't care if you love each other already or not. It NEEDS to wait.

Though it may seem far-fetched, it probably would be a disaster were that to come out now. I may just be paranoid over it- we have been super close for the past five months and had feelings for each other all that time after all- but we just now started knowing each others' true feelings. Either way, this isn't something I plan on worrying about right now. I have a call to make.

I'm going to give this girl one of the best times of her life, no matter how much it takes out of me. I'm the new boyfriend, so it's my new responsibility. I knew this day would come again soon, but I could never think of it being with someone this incredible. Heck, it's almost making me nervous just thinking about it. I'm going to make this a memory, for the both of us.

This is going to be fun.

A Quick Note

I figured it would be a good idea to make a brief section of author's notes for any questions that may end up coming my way.

I decided to make this story into two books because I feel as though Flutterstorm's original single chapter stood alone quite well. Due to this, I hoped for it to be considered it's own book, and Book two (of which all continuing chapters will be a part of) to be considered a sequel. I didn't post it as its own story because I'd rather people have the first chapter available to them in the same location than have to search for a separate story.

As far as updates go, they may lack consistency. I find myself busy at surprising times throughout every week, and I often don't get much time to write. I will try my best to make updates fairly quick, possibly a 7,000+ word chapter around every 2.5 to 3 weeks, and I will do my best to not disappoint. This is not set in stone however, and some updates may take longer. It only took me so long to update the last time because I wanted to gain more views before posting the next part of the story.

To everyone that has been referring my story to fellow writers, thank you from the bottom of my heart. I can't help but greatly appreciate the help you have all been to me, because were it not for you, this story probably wouldn't be past the 300 view count.

To my likers and favoritors, thanks for the encouragement. I love seeing people enjoy my story; my personal mission is to keep everyone loving my writing. To the dislikers, thank you for the encouragement as well. Though I hate to see that little bit of red bar, it has encouraged me to better my writing, and I feel like the beginning of book two definitely had better structure than the first. Whether I do or don't get anymore dislikes (hopefully the latter) is all based on opinion, and I won't infringe upon the right to have an opinion, but for anyone that may do so I ask that you give me an explanation as to why so I can attempt to resolve the apparent issue. Thank you for the cooperation.

As for what's happening in my life, well, I'm just writing it down as I go along! Any photos I post at the beginnings of chapters will be described in part of the story, and are really of my taking and are as described in real life. The tree shot from the glass back door last chapter? That is really my view from my living room. Just figured that these little snaps would help make the story more realistic for all my gracious viewers such as you.

Thank you again everyone for all the help, and I hope you enjoy-

"Evan?" Fluttershy asks in slight annoyance as she sees me typing on my laptop again.

"Ehem- yes Shy?" I say, speaking as innocently as possible.

"Can't you do whatever you're doing later? I was hoping you would watch this with me."

I sigh and shake my head at myself, knowing that typing really isn't all that important at the moment, and I shut my laptop before sitting it to the side on the sectional.

I turn the TV up and place the remote back on its perch on the lamp stand, and wrap my arms around Fluttershy's midsection before pulling her into me as I lean diagonally onto the arm of the sectional. She interlocks the fingers of both hands with both of mine, and we both listen to the nature documentary playing as we cuddle.

"We'll probably have to start getting ready after this goes off, we want to make it to the restaurant with plenty of time," I mention under the pressure of her body resting on my stomach and chest.

"Don't worry Evan, we'll make it," she says calmly.

"I hope we do, those reservations are tough to find!"

"Well, if we don't it wouldn't matter. We would still get to go somewhere else and see the movie, I'm sure. We even might could just go to the mall or something maybe, we haven't been to Starbucks in a while. Oh-! And Petsmart! We haven't been to Petsmart in such a long time! We could do that if we didn't make it. But, um, you're right. We'll have plenty of time after this."

"We will if we even get to watch the show, silly. Shh!" I retort in jest with an overdone Australian accent.

At that, I kiss her on top of her head through her pink locks of hair and direct my eyes back at the television as she giggles. Before long, my boredom sets in while her interest sets on the screen, and I find myself thinking about the night ahead yet again.

She doesn't even know about everything I have already planned. Tonight is going to be amazing.

The Date: Part 1- Typicality..

Yes, I know theres a section for author's notes. This is, in my opinion, a bad first half of a chapter, which I hope to have the (much better) rest of up by the new year. I was going to post them both simultaneously, but part 2 ended up being much longer than originally anticipated. So, that being said, keep a watch out for a FAR better chapter to be coming up soon! Just consider them both my Christmas presents to you all, a lot of work went into both chapters. Happy holidays everypony!

The Date: Part 1

Just another hour. One more hour until we have to be there- one more hour until our previously agreed-upon time. I must admit, this is probably somewhere around the 10th first date I've been on. However, regretfully, I must also admit that I haven't been this nervous in such a time that I am currently unable to do much in my own power to keep myself calm, cool, and collected.

Resorting to pacing the floor after I finished getting ready, as I often do anyways, I decided it would even be a good idea to turn the TV on in the other room while I was at it. The background noise has definitely helped me calm down a bit.

Fluttershy has been taking such a long time, what's keeping her? I think to myself in a momentary escape from mental lock-up. I've been ready to leave for an hour now, yet haven't heard a peep from her.

Before we both commenced the typical pre-date rituals, the day was fairly normal. We of course ate breakfast- resulting in me nearly setting the house on fire with a kitchen appliance I haven't used in months- then sat down to watch TV together, as we do quite often. We ate lunch from home as we did with the meal previous, amidst even more of our surprisingly strong conversational skills, then each took our turns showering and getting ready.

I guess most would wonder why there is such a greater focus on getting prepared for a first date. Your typical young adults of today would be satisfied with a hunting trip or drive to a cliff as an acceptable first date, but this is a view that I strongly disagree with. Especially now, since I've been prompted with the task of taking Fluttershy on her first date ever. I am by no means old-fashioned; this is quite different of the current situation. The first aspect of our first date though, even if it can be considered quite cliche, is going to be a nice sit-down dinner. Don't think me uncreative though, this will just be the appetizer to something extremely original that has been nagging my mind for months passed.

While this is often used by some, the call I had to make was for the hope that I could find a cancelled reservation at a 4-star restaurant that subsides on the west side of our nearest city, about 20 miles from my house. The joint never has any openings on the day of communication, unless someone has dropped a reservation and you're lucky enough to call within 2 minutes of the cancellation. I just guess today was my lucky day.

Now- how this ties in to taking time to get ready. Being that the restaurant is so high class, business formal is the minimally required dress code. They like for men to have jackets, but I have never owned one, so I'm currently hoping they'll have an extra in my size in the storage closet. Don't wanna be odd man out.

I decided to go with a commonly used outfit of mine, being a slim, light blue, long-sleeved button-up shirt, with a matching blue tie coated in criss-crosses of different hues of blue. The pants that go with them are slightly off-black, with water-etched plaid squares that you can see should you look close enough, and a pair of black shoes and a black belt to complete the getup.

I take a moment to step back over to the tall mirror in the foyer to look back over the appearance that I had taken nearly an hour and a half to achieve. It's crazy how a clean shave, suave clothing, and gelled-up hair can really make your average guy look halfway presentable. As I rub my jawline with the ends of the fingers on one hand- mainly to feel the smoothness that I have much missed- I also cheat my chest out to observe the leanness that I manage to achieve regardless of constant eating. I'm not by any means conceited, I'm just happy for the high metabolism I've been blessed with that makes most women hate me. Eating a normally portioned meal every three hours and not gaining isn't exactly an easy ability to come by, though I do consider it a blessing and a curse.

Walking back to the kitchen to continue my rambling pacing, my first footstep through the doorway is interrupted by an upstairs door opening. The repetition of light footsteps from small feet reach the stairwell, and eventually the causation reaches the ground floor, stepping into my field of view.

Here's a small disclaimer: the faint of heart should never look at what I am seeing. My own heart is nearly exploding.

Let's take it from the top; pun definitely intended. Fluttershy's hair is being worn half-up, half-down as it was at most of her photo shoots back in her modeling days. A small blue flower clip the same shade as my shirt resides on the side of her bumped-up hair do. Her face is naturally gorgeous as always, keeping just a small amount of bright eye shadow to emphasize her enormous green-blue irises and a light touch of blush to her cheeks. Her pale skin only helps the blush radiate more.

Moving down, her dress is one I bought for her shortly after I found her. Throughout our department store escapades it was the only dress we managed to find that she liked, and after stepping from the dressing room, she made my heart stop for a few seconds even then. Her hair was in its normal style and she was not fixed up in any matter at all, yet I was still stunned silent at her incredible level of natural beauty. Now that she stands here looking ready for a nomination at the Oscar's, I can hardly bring my mind to process that I'm taking her out.

The dress is a single piece, knee length, and is base colored blue with green tints on the straps and stomach belt. Brighter green designs cascade down the soft, satin-esque fabric, some ending in points at the base of the skirt with others ending in swirls at the waist line and above. Sequins are randomly placed to add color emphasis, and I can't help but feel as though Rarity herself would be impressed with it.

Maybe she can see it next time she visits.. I think as my mind's voice finally re-engages.

The pair of shoes she is wearing is quite simple, a pair of multi-strap sandals with a pink butterfly as a centerpiece on each of the two pieces of footwear. In all honesty, I can't even remember where we bought them at. I just know she came edging up to me with them in hand and- shyly- asked if it would be too much trouble to get them for her, if I didn't mind, and if I had enough money left over, and if I didn't- well, the usual drill. I may as well also come out with the fact that she added a faint touch of white spray-on body glitter to her upper chest and shoulders. How she knew where to put it? Beats me. I won't complain though.

Being as impressed as I am at her breath-stealing appearance, I just have to ask, "Fluttershy, did you- do this all on your own?"

She is seemingly taken aback by the question, and my suspicions are confirmed as her hands begin to travel everywhere, covering every single inch of her body and face at least once. "W-why? Did I, did I do something wrong? I mean, I didn't think I did-"

As she continues to scan herself for any possible errors, I can't help but laugh and smile before I reply, the smile never really fading as I speak. "You didn't do anything wrong, nothing at all! How did you even fix yourself up so well on your own? You've never had to do it before as a human."

My reply leads her to a calmer standing, and her hands go back to lock behind her. "I just remembered some of the stuff from my modeling days," she explains, "and I decided to try it for myself and hope it was appropriate fashion here. I would have asked, but, I didn't want to cause you too much trouble."

Can she get any better? I ask myself in a moment of amusement. "Well, you didn't just try. You definitely succeeded- you look incredible," I tell her as I scan her over once more. I will admit, the look is very formal, and could almost be considered too much by a fashion critic, but Fluttershy did beyond an amazing job on herself and there isn't a single complaint I could even hope to scout out on my end.

"Thank- um, thank you.." she shakily replies as my eyes hit the floor for a brief moment. As I look back to her, I see a toothless smile gracing her lips and a faint blush showing through the artificial coloring on her cheek bones. Her eyes are averted far to the side, and the over all image she gives is nothing short of 'd'aww'-inspiring.

A bit of an awkward silence manages to creep into the moment, and I break it by grabbing my keys and telling her we should probably get going. She looks back to me and shakes her head 'yes' before moving, and we both walk out the front door and to my vehicle as I lock the door behind us.

My car, a 2000 Chevy Camaro, is sitting in the driveway beckoning me to replace myself behind the steering wheel. While it's not an overly flashy car, being painted a simple dark turquoise and retaining the standard late 90's body style, it is still loud and proud with the ability to get up and go. The 24-valve engine combined with a high grade cold air intake, which adds only about 20 horsepower in reality, still manages to win many a stoplight drag race against random people that want to feel powerful in taking off ahead of a sports car.

The only issue with this engine is, the sound supression isn't excellent. Like I said, loud and proud. It's obviously nothing compared to a more high-powered engine, but for a larger V6, it isn't anything close to quiet.

We each slouch into the car, Fluttershy practically falling in because of how low it sits, and I turn the key with a quick wrist-flick to start the it up. The first rev that growls through the engine causes Fluttershy to release a quiet "Eep!" that runs a sense of worry through my brain.

Fluttershy isn't used to cars, I realize as we sit idled in the driveway. She has never in the past several months had to ride in one, minus when I brought her back to my house, considering most anywhere she needs to go is easily within walking distance. If it's anywhere out of walking distance, I simply take it upon myself to do the work for her.

Looking for a way to let her know our required means of arriving at the reservation, on time at least, I decide to just tell her. "Shy, we're gonna have to go faster than 20 miles an hour to get to the restaurant.

"H-h-how m-much, f-f-faster?" she manages to stammer out in her moment of light, self-induced terror.

"Oh, not too fast. Somewhere in the means of, like, 70 I guess? Maybe?" I reply in an attempt to make it sound like it's not much worse.

At that, her face loses all of what color it has. Even the blush make-up on her previously rosy cheeks seems to fade. But, rather than objecting to using the vehicle, she instead scrunches down into the seat as she clicks the seatbelt and gulps audibly. She grabs the chest strap of the belt, and clenches both fists around its weavings as if already preparing for an accident.

"Fluttershy, you can trust me, right?" I ask, leaving a pause before the word right. Not removing her fists from the belt, she turns her head toward me and shakes 'yes' while holding the most adorable scared-face I think I've ever seen. She's really good at stuff like that, what can I say.

"Well, okay then. I'm going now," I inform as I shift the car into reverse. There isn't much of a reaction from her as I back from the driveway and onto the road, and she maintains ease through the first 25 miles an hour. I come to the stop sign that lets the road onto the main highway, see that nothing is coming, and turn onto the roadway.

I accelerate much slower than what I'm normally used to, so as not to frighten her from the noise and quick travel, and begin to ease my way toward the 45 mph speed limit. Once the needle locks onto my target speed I look over to Fluttershy, whose body is tensed in about every muscle while she latches onto the door handle with one hand and the center console with the other.

Hoping to comfort her a little bit, I take the wheel in my left hand and use the right to take her hand from the center console and hold it as we travel down the state road. She doesn't object, but remains tensed until we reach the first stoplight. The car finally makes it to an easy stop, where she slumps into visible relaxation with a loud sigh; she may as well have just heard a vet tell her that a sick animal was going to be okay.

"Ahhh- how long do we get to stay stopped for?" she asks in a quiet, relieved tone. Unfortunately for her, however, she asked right as the ever-trolling stoplight turned green.

"I- guess I'll let the car answer that for you," I regretfully answer.

The car takes off again under the control of my foot, and we make it back to 35 miles per hour before reaching the turn onto the parkway. I accelerate a little bit more before making the interstate exit, which is fairly close to the mouth of the parkway, and make it to 55 before the road stretches out into the interstate's right lane. Looking over to her after I merge, I can see that she is totally tensed again: so much so that her head is shaking and a vein is forcing its presence onto her neck.

"Fluttershy," I use her full name, getting her attention, "I'm in complete control of this car. You can trust me." We lock eye contact for a second or two before I look back to the road and continue the operation of the motor vehicle. As I set the cruise on 70, I squeeze the soft surface of her hand to let her know that we aren't going to be going any faster.

As the trip continues, she manages to relax quite a bit before we exit the interstate. The majority of the 20 minute car ride was spent in silence, and the sweat she leaves on my palm as we come to a stop at the base of the exit ramp reminds me that the silence was from just how frightened she was.

I take my hand back so I can turn the wheel easier, and my car leads itsself onto the roadway- which is clustered with heavy weekend afternoon traffic.

We drive along at a steady pace in the right lane of our side of the divided highway, and her getting to see all of the other cars seems to help her out a bit. Fluttershy manages to pull herself up and stare intently at the other cars, and slouches back down when an elderly lady sees and waves at her. I make sure to smile and wave back so that we don't seem rude, and as Fluttershy gets back up to look out my window, a yellow Corvette C6 flies by my side at at least 60 in a 35 zone.

"EEK!" she squeals in surprise and fright as the idiot driver makes his way past us and into the distance.

"Hey, don't worry about that guy," I console, reaching over and rubbing her hand, "A lot of drivers are like that. They're normally the ones that get into single person accidents, so his driving will probably only end in him hurting himself." I end my proverb with a kiss on her hand, urging her to relax as I make the turn into the mall complex.

The mall itself is surrounded by over 20 unattached sit-down restaurants; one of which, being the one our reservation resides at. I pull into the parking lot and have to circle the building twice before finally finding a space, which was actually a previously filled spot. I shut the car off, remove my keys from the ignition, stuff them and my UK Wildcats laniard into my pocket, and move to the other side to open Fluttershy's door. I end up having to help her figure out the seatbelt switch, which she must not have realized is red for a reason, and I pull her up and lead the way into the building.

The restaurant, named Martha's Vacation Home- an obvious spin off of the famous 5-star Martha's Vineyard- is a two story structure with many a fancy decoration on the interior. The inside walls are painted a deep red, with tall velvet curtains hanging down the tall windows. The lighting is fairly dim, so as to give the main floor a more candlelit feel without too greatly restricting visibility, and the tablecloths are all the same red as the curtains. The base level of the restaurant is floored with a gray stone tiling that contrasts the abundance of red quite well. The second floor of the building is hollow in the center, allowing one to see up to the ceiling. It consists of a balcony that stretches all the way around the building, accessible by two staircases on each side that are attached to the walls, and the whole level is strictly candlelit. All lights on the mall side of the restaurant have been removed, due to a generous bribe from the owner to the city's construction regulation staff and mall owner, so that anyone sitting on that side can dine under the stars at night.

Fluttershy and I make our way to the front counter, where a tall, chubby man in a semi-formal business suit asks for the name of our reservation.

"Jenkins, table for two," I tell him, obviously proud of my fancy last name.

"Alright Mr. Jenkins, the table will be ready in about five to ten minutes," he replies in a very high-class tone of voice.

"Thank you sir. Oh yeah-" I remember before waltzing away from the counter, "-you wouldn't happen to have an extra jacket somewhere in the neighborhood of a 38 short, would you?"

He acquires a pondering look for a brief moment, before replying, "I'll see what we have in the storage room."

He briskly walks off, prompting Fluttershy and I to take our seats at the waiting area. The benches are padded, and the backs of the row of seats even seem to have lumbar support, which brings me to a realization. "Wow. Shy, this place is a lot fancier than I remember it."

This is no lie. The couples at every table were dressed just as fancy, if not fancier, than her and I, and nearly every table sported an opened bottle of a pinot noir or some other fancy wine or champagne. The waiters and waitresses have even upgraded to wearing full tuxedos.

"Oh my, this place really is fancy," she states, apparently realizing the same aspects of the eatery that I have.

"It really has improved since the last time I was here, I just hope the price level doesn't correlate to the fanciness level." Did I really just use the word 'correlate' in normal conversation? I ask myself in thought. Heck yes I did, I then answer back to myself in a moment of impertinence.

I take Fluttershy's hand again, which is sure to become routine for me, and continue scanning the joint over until the man comes back to tell us our table is ready. He brings a jacket with him that apparently is a 36 standard, and though it is snug when I try it on, I can tell it looks nice.

"Thanks again, I'll be sure to bring it back on the way out," I inform the man.

"Be sure to do that, or else," he warns jestfully while shaking a large finger, "and you two be sure to enjoy your meal."

"Will do," I reply with a smile. The server that the man showed us to then motions for us to follow him, leads us up one of the staircases, and points us directly to an empty table at the edge of the balcony on the mall side of the restaurant.

How convenient, I muse, I hadn't planned on this at all.

We stand at the small table and quickly notice that it is just as fancy as the others, being completed with a single candle and a large rose in a fancy white vase at the center. Doing my best to be a gentleman, I step over and pull out my date's chair so she can sit down.

"Why thank you," she speaks, honestly grateful.

"Why you're welcome," I retort before pushing her chair back in.

I return to the other side to take my seat at the surprisingly small table, so much so that when I scoot all the way in, Fluttershy's kneecaps end up between mine. I definitely won't complain about this either, though. I start nudging her feet with mine under the table, making the color in her cheeks flare up slightly once again as she starts nudging back, and she starts giggling as we engage in a foot war under the confines of the tablecloth.

"You know, I've really waited a long time for this," I tell Fluttershy before nudging her again.

"Oh- I definitely know about what that feels like," she says nudging back.

Of course, just being that it's me, I can't stop a goofy smile from forcing its way onto my face as I attempt to keep at least my back molars from showing. "Well, I've got a full tank of gas and a whole night ahead," I remind her, "is there anything in particular you wanna do tonight? You know, anywhere you wanna see that you haven't been to yet? It's your first date after all."

"Oh no, it's fine- really. I get to be with you tonight- that's what matters, right?"

I take a moment to revel in the feeling her answer has left me with, and I shake my head yes to her as I nudge her foot again. I open my mouth to speak again, but before I can produce any noise, our waiter makes his way to our table and begins introducing himself. The man is somewhere in his late 20's, seemingly of average height and weight, and has his light brown facial hair shaved into a faint chin strap. His even lighter brown hair is cut very short, and is styled with a touch of gel and a hairbrush to the side of his forehead. The tuxedo he is wearing completes the waiter look, and in a word, he is fancy. Just like this restaurant, and just like the prices are bound to be, I think in mental agony.

"Good evening sir and miss, I will be your server tonight," he begins in a pitch much higher than you would think to see coming from him. I notice quickly that he did not use his name, and upon wardrobe inspection I see that he has no nametag on.

"Good evening to you too," I greet. "If you don't mind me asking, though, what's your name? I noticed you're not wearing a nametag and you introduced yourself with 'server'." It's sort of a southern hospitality thing I guess, even though I don't really live in the south. I've worked in food service before, and it really is a good feeling to have a customer refer to you by your name. Just knowing this, I figured it would be a kindess to ask.

"It's simply not in the employee outlines to do so," he begins, "but I would much appreciate if you called me by my first name, Derek."

Derek? This guy speaks and dresses five star fancy.. and his name is Derek? He's definitely from the city, I speak in my thoughts before saying, "Dude, you're way too fancy to be a Derek."

He laughs lightly at my statement, obviously taking it as a compliment, and Fluttershy copies the same action simply because of her knowing that I'm friendly with everyone.

"Well, what can I get the both of you to drink?" he asks.

Fluttershy orders a water, which is 99 percent of what she drinks on a normal basis, but I figure I may as well have a little fun with it.

"Well, I did notice the sales of your fine champagne products. I wouldn't mind a touch of a nice pinot griggio to begin my meal, how much would the cost of a single glass come to?"

"Griggio?" he inquires to himself, "Lowest price, 8.75."

"Oh. Wow," I say, downtrodden at the expensiveness. "I'm afraid I'll have to turn that offer down good sir. I'm not twenty-one yet anyway-" I add with an eye shift and an exaggerated wink.

Smiling, he shakes his head at me before I order a Coke. As he walks off, I begin to search my thoughts for anything to start a conversation with, but as quickly as I do he is back with each of our drinks. Wow.. nice service.

"Here you are, I'll be back for your orders in just a moment," he informs as he places two rather large menus on the table in front of us. They have at least 5 turns of a page a piece.

"Wow, maybe we can finish reading this before we get to eat," I suggest jokingly.

Fluttershy simply giggles at the sense of humor she has probably grown more than accustomed to by now, and we both commence with reading. On the first page that I open to, I see a highly marinated 12 ounce sirloin steak with a baked sweet potato and salad as a starter. It definitely makes my mouth start to water, but my spit glands dry right back up as I see the $35 price tag attached to the meal. Eh- I wouldn't want to eat that in front of Shy anyway, I remind myself.

I continue to stumble through the pages of the menu, looking for anything creature-friendly, and I finally settle myself to get a dish of their finely spiced penne Alfredo. Who am I kidding, I've always been a complete sucker for Italian food.

Fluttershy ends up settling for a fully dressed salad and a bowl of what is really just vegetable soup, from what I can gather, but is under a French name that I can't even begin to pronounce. Being that we both settled on eating just a little bit, I'm really just hoping that this will be easy on the ole' pocketbook..

* * *

We finish our meals chatting about what else we will end up doing tonight. She, in her unending curiosity, has kept on trying to get me to slip up on what else I have planned for us, but I refuse to budge or give an ounce of leeway.

"Please Evan? Please?" she begs, stressing each plea and staring at me with her large, round eyes as she sticks out her lower lip.

"Nope," I say, turning my head away from the adorableness, "All I'm telling you, is that we're doing whatever else you want to do tonight, and a little secret or two that I got up my sleeve to top it all off," I tell her.

"I just want to be with you tonight. That's what matters most, you said it yourself! So whatever it is you're gonna do. Just surprise me."

"Well, I do have a few of those. Exhibit A: look up."

She listens instantaneously, turning her head and eyes toward the sky , and gasps as her eyes take in the stellar panorama above us. I look up as she does, and think to myself how amazing the view of the sky can be in an area that is normally so light polluted. Without any help from my vision, I find her hands across the table and place my fingers in between hers, pressing our palms together before we both look back at each other.

"Surprise," I say to her softly.

She looks away briefly before turning her gaze back to me, giving me a soft smile before pulling our hands up to rest her chin on. Through her still very existent shyness, she manages to lock her eyes into mine, creating a moment of togetherness for the both of us, and an intense case of tunnel-vision for me. Everything around her seems to fade away to white and gray, nothing in my field of view fully focused except for her and the light reflecting from her luminous pupils.

We sit in silence for a few more seconds, before familiar footsteps approach our table and stop next to us. "I have your bill here, sir."

"Oh, thank you Derek," I thank him, using his name as I had been throughout our visit. He walks back toward the waitering table to grab a payfolder, and as he does, I unfold the ticket to see a near $65 dollar charge for just the two of us. The tip isn't even included, and Shy only ordered appetizers..

Either way, I payed without a worry. I had already assumed that the trip would be quite expensive, and packed the wallet accordingly. Fluttershy and I both stand up after the change is brought back from the meal, and I sneak a 10 dollar note onto the table for Derek to collect when he comes back. He did an excellent job, plus he was extremely fancy- for a Derek.

We both head back down the staircase, and I hand the jacket back to the greeter as I walk by.

"Have a nice night, you two!" he calls out as we walk through the exit.

"Thanks, I'm gonna do my best to make it happen. You too!" I call back.

We make our way back through the large parking lot and to my car, where we both hastily climb back in and get the radio turned on as soon as the vehicle is running.

"Okay. We gotta go back to the house now, but just long enough for us to get changed into some warmer stuff and grab a few things." Even though it is a fairly comfortable 63 degrees out, according to my phone, it is sure to cool off later into the night.

Again, she doesn't hesitate to try to break me one more time. "So, can I at least know what we're doing next?"

"Nope." She still hasn't realized that I'm a stone, not soon to be broken. I want her to find everything out as it happens, so that everything coming is to remain exactly as I want it to be.

"It's a surprise."