Midnight

While I sit on the couch and browse the screen of... I guess our laptop – a dark blue foreleg abruptly blocks my view. I'm unwilling to pay it or its owner any notice, so I ignore it the best I can – which isn't very well. I resort to tilting the screen back just a tad so I can see above the leg. Of course, said leg now decides to wave and wriggle around, making any further hopes of continuing... uh, hopeless.

"What are you doing?" I ask, turning my head to look at my companion. Midnight lays beside me, on her back with her legs in the air. Her head is locked slightly to the left, to avoid sticking me in the hip with the point of her horn – or at least, to prevent me from sitting on it.

"Hoof rub," she quietly demands, raising said hoof until it's inches away from my face.

"You know, you look kinda stupid when you lay like that on the couch," I respond, preferring to ignore Midnight's odd request.

"I guess like attracts like. You look stupid all the time."

"Mid, that doesn't even look comfortable."

"I know – hence the hoof rub."

That— That makes absolutely no sense. I'm forced to just stare at her while I try to understand her endgame here.

"Stop thinking about it. You'll overtax your noggin," Midnight demands, pointing her other hoof at me.

Midnight has gotten more open and playful over time, but this is still a new level of weird for her. But rather than question it too much, I decide it's better to just... have fun. "OK, how about a compromise?"

"Hm... I don't think that was an option I put on the table for you," she responds after pretending to mull that for just a brief moment. But despite the negative answer I receive, I reach over with my right hand and start stroking her chest. The soft fine fur glides across my palm as I trace a circular motion with little effort.

"That... That's not... My hoof," she manages to stammer out in pieces. Despite her protests, she's lost in the attention I'm giving her right now as she lowers the leg thrust at me only moments ago.

"Yeah, I'm shit at anatomy, Midnight. This is the best I can do," I console her. Even as I direct my eyes back to the laptop I'm using, I keep my hand busy lathering Midnight with affection. However, it isn't long before my arm is brushed aside in time with the couch starting to shift underneath me. I don't have to turn my head again to see what's going on; Midnight makes her presence known by twisting and pushing her way into my lap headfirst, forcing the laptop onto my knees.

I look down at her when she finally decides she's found a good spot; Midnight looks up at me without a care in the world and an eager smile plastered onto her muzzle.

"You are not a laptop," I mutter quietly.

"Wow, so you can tell the difference? I'm impressed," she chides back.

"You're being awfully needy tonight. And very strange."

"No, you've just convinced me you have more uses than I anticipated," she comments as her face begins to sport a rather devious grin. "Now continue, my slave."

Dumbfounded by where this is headed, I cock my head and purse my lips as I stare down at Midnight.

"Don't look at me in that tone of voice," she warns, her smile slipping away.

"Oh, ok," I acknowledge her. But rather than continue petting Midnight's chest, I reach over her for the laptop and gently rest it upon her snout – leaving her head completely obscured from my vision. "By the way, that's my line, you aren't allowed to use it," I make sure to add.

"That's my laptop I'm letting you use," Midnight calls back in a nasally voice. Of course, rather than end it there, Midnight proceeds to take several loud and purposely snuffled breaths through her nose the laptop currently rests upon. It's not a particularly welcome or pleasant sound, so I cut her a break and place the laptop back on my knees.

"I knew you would see things my way," she floats, wrinkling and snuffing her nose just a few times after that short diversion.

"Alright, I can't leave this alone – you're being really weird tonight," I admit. "I'm not mad, I'm curious – what's up?"

I feel Midnight shift slightly underneath me in the shoulder and back area – evidently an attempt at a shrug that I can't see from this angle. "You get to act like a dumbass all the time, and I'm a little bored – so I figured why not take a stab at it tonight?" she answers back confidently. "The massage was an added bonus – though I really would have preferred attention to my hooves. I had to work my ass off to make up for you today."

Perhaps it sounds callous coming out of her mouth – but she's not wrong. While it was not my plan, I spent a good portion of today underneath a second-generation Grand Prix prying front suspension parts from its bowels. Despite my assurances to her that she didn't need to pick up my end of the list, she did anyway.

"You make a point, but I told you not to do that," I remind her. "We're a team – there is no 'I' in 'team'."

"Ah, but there is a 'me' if you jumble up the letters," she counters with delight, putting one of her hooves up against my nose.

"Shaddup. You said you were trying to be stupid tonight," I shoot back, booping her nose to return the favor.

"That didn't take much thought to figure out, stupid."

"But you did have to think about it."

"Well, I can't not think," she scoffs with a roll of her eyes.

"Mm... Maybe. But you are getting there," I tease her.

"Come again?" she spouts, abruptly raising her voice as her gaze upon me hardens.

The reaction doesn't faze me that much, as I expected a touch of hostility. "Remember once upon a time when you told me you couldn't make your mind shut up and just... relax?" I remind her calmly. "Right now, you're doing a pretty damn good job of just that. Chilling out without a thought or a care in the world."

"Well, shit can change. But I'm still sharp as a tack," she reaffirms, sticking her nose up... well, basically laying her head flat in my lap, completely inverted.

"You're not wrong. Other than this exact moment."

"Oh, shut up," Midnight responds, relenting with her little upturned nose charade to look at me again. "What about you actually giving a damn about your work tonight, John? Care to explain this oddity?"

"Who said I was working on anything, Middie?"

"Mhm. Probably looking at porn," she suggests with a disapproving tone. "What we looking at, 'Thirteen Man Slamathon?' 'Tranny Grannies in Crotchless Panties?'"

"Ooh, I like the sound of that last one. Bet it has a great storyline," I play along with her. "I mean, that's the whole reason I watch porn. What else is there?"

Midnight lets out a short exhale through her nose directly into my face as she gives up a smirk at my comment. But her eyes dart sharply to the left, trying to make sense of the laptop screen now without turning her head. Amusement shortly turns to befuddlement as her smile vanishes and her eyes fixate upon me again.

"What?"

"You're looking at the junkyard spreadsheet right now," she notes, her void devoid of any particular tone or emotion. "More specifically, you're looking over the Pontiacs we have out there."

...she's actually right about that.

"And you got that from a quick glance at the screen," I state aloud, not quite believing that's all there is to it.

But Midnight nods her head in the affirmative, a flash of slight overconfidence in her eyes and her reappearing grin. "Bitch, please. I know my work – I created the damn thing from scratch," she boasts.

"Well, at least you're humble about it," I wisecrack.

Midnight sticks her tongue out at me, completing the gesture with an accompanying "Nya!"

Without thought or hesitation, I reach out and seize the tip of her purplish-pink tongue between my thumb and index finger with just enough pressure to prevent her from retracting it. Midnight's eyes go wide as she tries to understand the sudden madness that's overcome me to do this.

"Leh go oth ny tongue, athhoe," she manages to work out despite the abrupt speech handicap I've forced upon her.

"Is that supposed to be English?" I tease her, making sure to plaster on a cocky smile. "I don't understand a thing you just said."

"Yow ah thaggot," she slurs back, her brow hardening in disapproval.

"Hm. Still not getting it – can you try the phrase 'I rode on a ship full of apples' so I can get a baseline for translation?"

Perhaps out of discomfort than any other reason, Midnight starts pulling her tongue back toward her mouth after my suggestion. Once my digits are near her teeth, I let go – and she makes sure to snap her jaws closed with enough force to garner an audible *chomp* from her mouth full of pointed teeth. But a brief look of accomplishment vanishes from her face as she sticks her tongue back out, grimacing in disgust.

"Ah, ew, I got fucking hair in my mouth!" she gags, trying to spit out the offender toward me.

"Hey, you're the only one with long hair here, it's probably yours," I protest, pushing the side of her snout to point away from me. "Stop whining and deal with it, ya wuss."

Midnight makes sure to drag on her exaggerated retching and gaging a little bit longer before settling down. At that point, her eyes return to the screen of the laptop as I type a few little things below a couple of cars in the database. "Anyway – really, what are you doing?" she asks.

"Jotting down what I took off a few of the cars. I dunno why neither you nor I thought of it before, but keeping track of what we take off of cars should help us in the long run."

"You know, I actually feel a bit ashamed I never thought of doing that before, now that you mention it."

"Hey, no one is perfect," I assure Midnight, patting her chest once again. She wriggles a bit back and forth under my ministrations.

"Yeah – but I'm pretty close to perfect," she argues, making sure to lean heavily into a haughty tone and a smug expression.

I try to think of something to say as I look down at her. But instead, I feel like I just have to stare at Midnight. With her lying in my lap, her hair is splayed out wildly, allowing the light to pick favorites between the blues and violets in her hair depending on the area. My eyes shift to the smug grin she's sporting – which, like many times when she smiles, allows just the tips of her canine teeth to peek out from her upper lip. And there's still those eyes. She wasn't born with them, but she's begun to take pride in them. The otherworldly blue hues that make up her irises are breathtaking up close as she looks up at me through slitted pupils.

"Hey, that was a joke, John," Midnight speaks up. "I'm not that full of myself, so stop staring at me like that."

"No, you're not perfect. But you're damn close," I tell her. Her brow furrows for a moment as she mulls my comment.

"You're weird," she mumbles, softening up her expression to one of slight confusion.

"I know. And you're so damn cute when you're all confused and flustered," I tease her, reaching to one of her cheeks and lightly pinching it.

"No," she protests, lazily waving her hooves to brush my hand away as she pouts. "I still don't do cute."

"Bullshit. You're doing cute right now," I contend, pointing at her face.

"Nuh-uh. I can't do cute. Cute is just a word that's way too... blech," she explains, sticking her tongue out at the end in a scene much like the hair incident moments ago.

"Alright, fine. You're adorable."

"Yeck."

"Beautiful."

"Well, that's much better," Midnight concedes. "But I was thinking more along the lines of 'ravishing'." Her eyes light up upon utterance of this apparent magic word.

"Nope, don't like it," I argue, shaking my head. "Too long."

Midnight's eyes narrow as she leers at me. "It's the same amount of letters and syllables, shithead," she mutters.

"Yeesh, alright. Fuckin nerd."

"Having some semblance of intelligence does not make me a nerd," Midnight refutes, brooding over my accusation.

"On the other hand, you're a cute nerd."

"I really don't like you anymore."

"Well, fair is fair. No more chest rubs," I comment, starting to pull my hand away from Midnight. But before I can get it too far, she uses her forelegs to snag my hand and pull it back toward her.

"No, mine," she bitterly mumbles. "Continue."

"What, are you part cat now? Supposed to keep petting you until you decide enough and try to bite the shit out of me?"

Midnight cocks her head, staring at me with wide, innocent eyes. "...Mrow?" she purrs.

"I— no, that doesn't work," I respond, once again shaking my head. "You would put a mountain lion to shame, and I don't think they purr."

"Rawr?"

"Shaddup."

"Fine," Midnight relents, pouting again at my minor disapproval. "Maybe I'm just someone who requires being lavished with attention. In that case – continue to heed my command, peasant."

"I shoot down the cat emulation, so you go all in on the villain you look like?"

"Ha! Nightmare Moon doesn't have shit on me!" Midnight belts out, her eyes beginning to glow wildly. "Look at everything I possess, my kingdom and its riches – completely unopposed! Someone to tend to my needs and pamper me! I should beat you for such a mindless comparison." As she finishes, she swats at me with one of her hooves while putting on a stern facade.

"...You're fucking weird," I say after a slight hesitation. "You sure you're alright tonight?"

"I... may have tried one of those ciders that you bought over the weekend," Midnight answers, her ears drooping as she gives me an uneasy smile.

"The whole six-pack?"

"No, just one..."

I don't think she's lying about that. But they're only four or five percent alcohol in a twelve-ounce bottle...

"So you cheated at playing the stupid game tonight."

"It's not cheating if you never anticipated the game in the first place," Midnight retorts. "And I didn't finish the bottle. I had most of it, but... I wasn't really a fan. What little was left I dumped down the sink and threw the bottle away."

"And that's legitimately all you had?"

"Yes...?" Midnight's voice betrays an uneasy innocence that tugs at my heart once again. I can't help but chuckle as I lean down and kiss her on the snout.

"You poor lightweight."