Midnight

It's now as Midnight and I close in on the stairs with our haul that I wish I had paid for delivery.

Last night, the tired old couch I've had for years decided to throw in the towel. One of the springs decided to burst through and try to find a new home – but thankfully failed in that quest. But Midnight and I were quick to abandon our seats after that. So, a trip to town with a trailer in tow eventually led us to the replacement we're heaving toward the upstairs right now. We carried out the old couch and I took measurements of the doorway before leaving – it will be close, but should fit.

This new couch is a hell of an upgrade from what I had previously – it's covered in dark grey leather with a reclining feature on either end, as well as an increase in depth front to back. It certainly wasn't a bargain basement purchase, but it was a good deal nonetheless. It also happened to be one of the only options that I found palatable.

Seriously – flower print is still a thing? Gross.

"C'mon, pick up your end, you pussy," Midnight mutters from the opposing side of the couch.

"Hey, I got it," I protest. "Not all of us have magic at our disposal that lets us lift at any position or height, you know. I have two hands to work with, that's it."

"Well, I don't have magic, either," Midnight replies. Her face oozes such smugness now that I want to just drop the couch and poke her in the nose. However, since I'm at the bottom of the stairs looking upward toward Midnight, letting go of the couch and trying to reach her wouldn't be productive and could send a couch hurtling my way down the steps.

That may be a little extreme – but it wouldn't help the cause of getting this hefty piece of furniture up the stairs and into my home.

"You don't have whimsical fairytale magic, but you have electromagnetic shit. That's close enough," I argue.

"Then you have very low standards."

"I live with you, don't I?"

Midnight's brow creases in disapproval. "Okay, you have low standards in every category other than those involving me," she refutes.

"Cool. Electromagnetic abilities involve you since you have em, so I'm good."

"Whatever. Fuck you."

Conversation ceases after that as I finally make my way to the bottom step of the stairs. Midnight returns to focusing on her footing as she backs her way up them, already close to three-quarters of the way up. Just a little bit more at this slow and steady pace we're moving at, and she will be at the landing in front of the door.

"What are we gonna do if this doesn't fit through the door?"

I can't help but feel a little irritated by the rather silly question Midnight asks, particularly as I'm continuing to heft my end up while keeping track of my feet in relation to the steps. "Midnight, you watched me measure the doorway before we left," I grunt. "You also watched me measure the couch in the store before we bought it."

"I know," she responds with an accompanying deadpan stare. "But it still really doesn't answer my question."

"How am I supposed to answer a question that doesn't make sense? It's going to fit, Middie."

"So you haven't planned for the worst-case scenario."

"...are you trying to be a pain in the ass?"

"...maybe," she mumbles, biting her lower lip. "Someone has to pay you back for the nonsense you've said in your lifetime thus far."

"I wish I had taken your end of the couch, that way I could be annoying once I reached the landing," I grumble.

"Ah, but I had that forethought, which is why I volunteered to walk backward up the steps," she comments, breaking into a mischievous grin.

"Asshole."

"Aww, thanks for the compliment."

"Would you like to carry this the rest of the way by yourself?" I threaten in a haughty tone.

"After you pulled my teeth into admitting I have my limits on what I can carry based on size?" she shoots back. "I really don't know if I could, now that I've thought about it. That's a lot of length to try balancing."

"And yet there's no shame in admitting it," I remind her on a serious note. "I'd rather put up with your shit than see you overtaxed yourself trying to do something that isn't necessary."

"That's so touching," she gushes with a smirk. "Weren't you just irritated with me a second ago?"

"Shaddup," I playfully bark at her. "How close are you to the door, by the way?"

"Eh, you still got another three or four steps up you can take."

"And when we get to that point, we're going to take our time and think about how to get this inside, right? Not get frustrated?"

Midnight shoots me a perplexed stare upon initially listening to my comment. "Uh, what the hell would the alternative be here?" she asks.

"You throwing a hissy fit and putting it through the wall."

I mean that as a joke, and it does garner a slight laugh from Midnight – before she starts eyeing me with caution. "I don't even think I can do that, John," she states in a calm tone. "I'll also add that I am nowhere near as impatient and short-tempered as I used to be."

"Oh, I know," I agree, before a stupid comment comes to the forefront of my mind. "You might be overdue for a blowup, in that case."

Midnight rolls her eyes but doesn't try to play it off with a serious face. "You know, I could let go of this end of the couch and watch it rumble down the stairs with you as a passenger."

"Yeah, you could. But that would probably be painful, and it might damage our new couch."

"Ah, but it is a sacrifice I may be willing to make."

"Well that's very noble of you – but I don't think it's necessary," I tell her, taking another step just as Midnight moves to one side of the couch. "I take it we're at the doorframe now?"

"Yep," comes her quick reply. I'm left holding my end up as Midnight's eyes inspect the couch, then dart to the doorframe as she tries to discern how to orient the couch to fit through. It's not particularly difficult, but my palms are beginning to sweat against the plastic protectant covering the couch.

"Um... maybe try turning the couch clockwise about forty degrees?" Midnight suggests after some time to think.

The instructions are at the same time too specific and too vague on my end for me to follow through, leading Midnight to narrow her eyes at me before I can explain – or perhaps because of my befuddled expression. "Had a hell of a time with geometry in school, huh?" she wisecracks.

"No, but your directions are confusing. Are we doing your clockwise, or mine?"

This time, it's Midnight who is left to stare silently in utter confusion.

"Here's the issue," I respond, beginning to twist my end of the couch just enough to make my point visible. "That direction for me is clockwise. But you're looking down at me and from that end, it is counterclockwise, right?"

"Oh – duh," Midnight laments. Surprisingly enough, it's a comment directed toward herself as she lightly taps a hoof to her forehead. "My clockwise – tilt the top of the couch back toward me."

Of course, with something that's such an oblong and awkward shape, I have to guesstimate how to tilt the furniture rather than be precise. But I get it to where I think it should be, and Midnight gives an affirmative nod to proceed forward at a snail's pace.

*Thump*. I've only gotten to move one step up the stairs before the couch in my hands is halted from any further progress. "Try spinning it a little more my way," Midnight instructs, still standing to the side of the doorway. "Ah – right there. Now try it."

As I start moving forward again, I can hear the plastic cover ruffling as it drags against the doorframe. But I sense very little resistance against my efforts guiding it through the doorway – the sound is of little concern to me at this moment.

Once I get onto the landing where Midnight is, I get a better look at her – and she does not look well. Her brow is heavily creased and her jaw is clenched... and it dawns on me she's straining to keep her end levitated up in the air through the wall.

"Hey, you want me to back up?" I ask, disregarding any idea to hide my concern.

"...why?"

"Uh, I didn't realize it at the time either, but you should have gone through the doorway first. I don't want you to hu—"

"I'm... testing myself. Keep going," she demands through gritted teeth.

Stubborn ass. But the more I dawdle, the more she's having to push her limits – meaning standing here trying to convince her to take a breather or back up is a questionable idea now. While I don't rush, I pick up my pace as I heave the couch through the door, confident in the fit now that we've gotten it well within the living quarters.

I'm scarcely an inch or two through the door before I feel Midnight pushing past me through what little gap she can squeeze into. With a deep, loud exhale, Midnight scamper through the kitchen off to my right, then leaps up onto the countertop of the island and into the living room. Even now with her on the opposite end again, I can hear her heavy breathing beyond the other end of the couch as she regroups.

"You're cleaning the kitchen counter before we eat tonight," I tell her.

The joke brings Midnight back into view as she rises up into my line of sight. "Oh, I wasn't aware we served food directly onto the counter," she answers with a healthy dose of sarcasm. "Did we do away with dishes between this morning and now?"

"Silverware still sits on the counter, which we use to eat our food," I counter.

"Aww, cry some more. Maybe it will make a difference," she pouts, her muzzle sporting a deep and exaggerated frown.

Well, she's certainly none the worse for wear. Of course, it helps the worst part is over; with Midnight on the other end, we glide through the gap between the wall and the kitchen island, which is comfortably wide enough for the couch to go through. With just a few more steps, we set down the couch in its new home, finally giving me the chance to relax my arms.

That really wasn't too bad – but being that tense for such an extended period of time, I'm feeling the burn in my arms from hands to shoulders. But it feels like a victory more than anything, particularly as Midnight yanks away the plastic and finally uncovers the sumptuous grey leather, sending the scent of new upholstery wafting into the air.

Now that the work is done... I exchange glances with Midnight – whose eyes momentarily dart to the cushions of our new furniture I'm eyeing as well. There's a certain mischievous glint in those glowing orbs that tells me she's waiting for me to kick things off...

"Mine!" I shout, frantically trying to kick off my shoes and nearly losing my balance in the process.

"Fuck no, mine!" Midnight backs back. Yet despite her defiant call, she doesn't budge – preferring to wait until my mockery of a dance to remove shoes comes to a thankful close. More for show than anything at this point, both Midnight and I rush toward the center of the couch and plop down into it – and each other.

"Scoot over, dumbass," Midnight growls, giving me a shove with some weight behind her shoulder.

"Nuh-uh. You scoot over, dumbass," I counter with a mirrored demand, as well as my own attempt to shove her away with my hands.

But Midnight has more tools to work with, and a wave of dark violet plumage swats my back as she spreads open a wing. Midnight eagerly seizes the yielded territory with glee and a light cackle to boot.

But she hasn't won. As far as I'm concerned, using her wing was a dirty move in this wrestling match. While she's preoccupied trying to nail down a villain laugh, I lean toward her and cup my hand under her chin. Using just enough pressure to pull her toward me, I lean in eye to eye with her – and start peppering her snout with quick fleeting kisses.

"Ewww, stop being queer!" she whines, squeezing her eyes shut and swatting at me feebly with a hoof even as she tries to pull away. "This is abusive and it's cheating!"

"Sucks to suck, loser," I pause to taunt her before continuing my assault to push her back.

Somehow through this absurd game, I eventually find myself lying on my side, up against the back of the couch. Midnight ends up lying in front of me and leaning back against me while on her stomach, with both of us sprawled out to maximize the available space.

"There. Now was that really so hard?" I ask aloud to no one in particular.

Nevertheless, Midnight turns her head to meet my eyes. "Yes. Yes, it was," she answers with just a touch of gruff in her voice.

"Hm, that wasn't the answer I had in mind. But hey, with this new couch – do I get my bed back all to myself?"

What follows is a trill of laughter as Midnight fervently shakes her head. "You opened a door that can never be closed again, John," she responds. "You have to deal with sleeping beside me until the end of time."

I sigh, letting my head thump down into the cushions. "Dammit. I knew I should have read the fine print," I mumble, reaching one of my hands up to stroke and fiddle with Midnight's hair and mane. "Why the hell do they make it so small that you need a magnifying glass?"

"Just for lazy suckers like you," she comments, emitting a hum of approval I can feel coursing through her as I find one of her ears to rub. "But it's funny that you mention this being a decent sleeping spot."

"Awww, you wanna have a sleepover with your coyote friends from out back? Like old times?"

Midnight throws some of her weight into me as she abruptly leans back. "Real fuckin comedian, aren't you?" she chides back.

"Well, I try my best," I reply, pretending to be bashful.

"Aaanyway – Starla mentioned to me a couple of days ago that Teddy is heading out of town for a few days to meet up with a couple of contacts from his old occupation," Midnight explains. "It's really hush-hush kind of shit – he rents and changes car en route to and from wherever he's meeting them, pays cash for everything, even takes non-linear routes. Just to keep Starla's whereabouts as secret as he can."

"Damn, that sounds like legitimate spy stuff – but I can't blame him for the precautions," I reply, reeling from the amount of effort he goes through for a meeting with old work friends. "But why does he even meet with em if he's that suspicious? Doesn't make much sense to me."

"That was the same thing I thought when she told me that. But I guess he's been meeting with them around once a year – they're old friends with the same mindset as him when it comes to bio-ponies. He would still rather be safe than sorry, though," Midnight clarifies, clearing her throat. "But Teddy doesn't really like leaving Starla all alone in the house – even though she can and has taken care of herself with no issues for up to a week on her own. It just grates on his nerves – the what-ifs."

If it wasn't clear to me at the start of this conversation, Midnight's motivations are now laid bare for me to see. Yet, she hasn't actually asked me. And for me, there's fun to be had getting the question out of her.

"Huh. Yeah, I guess I can understand that, too," I comment, knocking the conversation back into Midnight's court.

Her eyes go a bit wide at my nonchalant response, but she settles back down soon enough. She tries to relax and play it casually, looking at me for a moment before responding. "So..."

I expect more out of her than that to end this. Rather than offer up anything for her to react to, I decide to just lay there and stare into her eyes, putting on my best poker face despite no experience in the card game.

But the ticking of the clock on the wall goes on for far too long without either of us saying a word, and it begins to drive me nuts. "Look Middie," I start, pausing to sigh. "You have proven time and time again that you will beat me every time in a staring contest. So why even bother?"

Midnight's neutral face cracks as she starts to scowl, her nostrils flaring as she huffs. "Why must you be an asshole?" she bemoans.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm just sitting here," I argue.

"You're really going to make me ask?" she pouts.

"Yeah, that's the plan."

Midnight's scowl deepens for a moment – until she finally relents. "Fine – can Starla stay with us for a few days as a favor to Teddy? Like a sleepover?"

A sleepover. That was not the term I expected to hear from Midnight. In a sense, it sounds so much more childish when put that way. But did either of them really... were they ever really kids? It doesn't sound like it from what Midnight can remember. Maybe this is tapping into a whole new realm for her.

I realize Starla isn't nearly as self-sufficient as Midnight, but I hardly see that as a problem, considering the two of them are probably going to be practically attached at the hip. But working out in the yard is another manner – I don't know how tolerable Starla is of the heat or the baking sun for extended periods. Midnight and I have missed a day or two pulling parts out of necessity before, and playing catchup is not an enjoyable ordeal; playing hooky for Starla's sake would be rough, to say the least.

However, I'm taking too long to mull this decision for Midnight. Her face softens up before she puts on a set of sad eyes, curling her lower lip as she pouts.

"Hey, cut that shit out, Middie," I complain, squeezing my eyes shut.

"I can just keep doing this, you know," she mutters. "Sooner or later, you're gonna have to get up, and you'll have to open your eyes again."

"I hope your face gets stuck like that. You're evil."

"In all seriousness, what's holding you back from just saying yes, John?"

I give up and open my eyes, though Midnight has dropped her pleading expression for the moment, preferring to sit at attention for my reasoning. "Having to deal with two of you," I quip.

Midnight whaps me on the arm with a hoof, though she does crack a slight smirk at my response. "I'm serious. I want to know if there's something actually bothering you about the idea," she explains, leaning toward me.

"Well, what will she do while you and I are working on pulling parts out in the junkyard, Mid?" I propose to her in a calm voice. "We still have a business to run, and I guess we could take off a day, but more than that..."

"Starla can walk, in case you weren't aware," Midnight replies, just a bit of an edge in her tone as she exhales.

"Do you think she really wants to follow us around in the hot sun? Don't you think she will get bored?"

"To be honest, I don't think you know Starla all that well. I'm confident neither of those sticking points for you will be an issue," Midnight attempts to reassure me, holding her head high. But without a forthcoming answer from me, she backs off. "I can send her a message on the computer and ask her to be sure. Would you feel better about it?"

"Go ahead and do that. Right now as it stands, the sleepover is a 'maybe' for me."

Even though it's not a definitive answer, Midnight lets out a light squee of excitement as her face breaks out in an ear-to-ear grin. She bounces up and down in place before darting in and peppering my face with kisses, just as I had done to her earlier.

"Eww, you're such a weirdo, quit it!" I whine loudly, putting forth a feeble attempt to push her away.

"No. Deal with it," is all I get through a brief pause.