Midnight

With the Hemi engine for the 300C finally stripped barren, it was time to send it off to a machine shop and allow them to give it a once over. Fortunately, there was not only one nearby, but it was also in the same town where I do my grocery shopping.

That's making errand running easy today with Midnight riding shotgun. I pull away from the machine shop parking lot and point the nose of the Trailduster off toward the highway to head further into town.

"Did you at least ask him how long it would be until he knows if the engine block is solid?" Midnight whines.

"No, I figure by the time the sleepover with Starla has come and gone, it will be ready for pickup," I assure her. "I honestly didn't even think to ask."

"I'd at least like to have some sort of idea," she continues to grovel, hunching down in her seat like a spoiled brat.

"Patience is a virtue, Middie."

"I'm all out of virtue."

"Well, I'm not gonna argue with that. At least you admit it."

"You weren't supposed to actually agree with that," she laments. My eyes on the road, I can only assume that dour voice comes complete with a pout. Sure enough, a quick glance confirms my suspicions.

"Oh stop that. You're gonna make me use the C word," I threaten.

Midnight gives up her mock disapproval, shifting to a smirk and a glint in her eye. "Ooh, does it start with C – U?" she proposes.

"Yep."

"And an N?"

"Nope, a T."

"Well, I've already dropped that face, so you don't need to use the word."

"Alright, I'll let it slide this time," I relent, saving that scary word for now as I shift to a more pressing matter. "Did you bring the list that Starla sent you?"

"Nope, left it at home for the hell of it," she responds without hesitation.

"Man, you are just full of piss and vinegar today, aren't you?" I gasp. While I exaggerate my awe just a bit, I can say I am legitimately a bit surprised at Midnight being this sharp and snarky with her comments as we roll down the road at cruising speed.

"Would you have me any other way?" she coos back, batting her eyes at me with a big innocent smile plastered on her muzzle, wide enough to let the tips of those pointed canines peek out.

"Wow... that was nauseating."

Midnight recoils at my comment, eyes widening for a moment as the facade she's crafted falters. But all too soon, as I shoot another look her way, Midnight has a scowl and narrowed eyes ready for me, capped off as she sticks out her tongue in a childish manner.

Eyes to the road, then back to her – I take one of my hands off the steering wheel and catch the tail end of her mane. In a swift motion, I flip it over her head, causing her face to vanish behind a flowing sea of blue and violet hair.

"Wow. Real fucking mature," she grumbles in a now muffled voice, her shoulders slumping with disappointment

"Hello Pot. I'm Kettle," I crack back at her, adding a chuckle at the end for good measure.

I garner a snicker in response from the passenger seat, followed by the sound of Midnight trying to lazily blow her hair out of her face with a few short puffs of air – to no avail.

"How's the view?" I continue to tease her.

"Fantastic," she crows. "I'm now completely unable to see your ugly mug. Didn't realize it was just that easy."

I don't try to play it cool on that jab, preferring to let my laughter ring out in the truck as I reach back over and flip most of her mane back from her face. She looks on with wide eyes, slowly scanning her surroundings in jaw-dropped wonder.

"Wow, it's suddenly daylight again," she gasps in mock awe.

"I take it you actually remember most – if not all – of what Starla had for us to get from the store," I say, looking for genuine confirmation to my earlier question.

"Yeah, I got it. It really wasn't a big list," Midnight reassures me. Her trusty metal wire unwinds out of her necklace chain and methodically brings her mane back in relative order. "We actually have a fair bit of what she requested – we won't be walking out with a stuffed cart."

"Alright, sounds good. But if we forget anything, just remember that's on you," I warn, pointing at her as we roll to a halt at a stoplight. "I'm not taking a rolling pin to the head for your cock-up."

"Do we even have a rolling pin?"

"Well... no. But the gist of my point still stands."

"Good to know other kitchen utensils are still on the table for you."

"Yeah, I'm sure Starla would find a lot of entertainment in live domestic abuse."

"You don't even know her that well – you might just be surprised," Midnight teases, her eyes flicking from me to the windshield "Light's green, by the way."

Focus switching back to the road for the moment, I get the Trailduster moving again before resuming conversation. I have another serious matter on my mind I'd like to delve into now that things have momentarily settled. "What do you actually have in mind in terms of entertaining Starla while she stays with us?"

Midnight is right with her comment – I really don't know Starla all too well – not like she does. Counting the butt in during the last video chat between Midnight and Starla, I've only interacted with her three or four times. While I don't think anyone will be 'bored' during the stay, I've still been a bit anxious the last day or two mulling what we could all get into as a group.

"She's not a foal, John," Midnight mutters in thinly-veiled disappointment. "She doesn't need to be 'entertained'."

It's a toss-up whether her tone is merely meant to be in jest or serious, but her expression doesn't lie – Midnight is stone-cold serious in her remark, and not particularly pleased.

"I couldn't think of a way to word my thoughts better," I admit. "I didn't mean that to sound insulting or demeaning in any way, Middie. Sorry."

Frankly, I'm flabbergasted to find Midnight so protective of her friend. But my apology hits the right buttons as her facial features soften – though not completely relaxed. "You still aren't fully on board with having Starla stay with us for a few days, are you?"

"It's not that, Mid. I'm more..." I trail off, taking the time to choose my words rather than rattle off my unfiltered train of thought yet again. "I just have a bit of concern from my side of things. I don't know her like you do, you're right on that. And I'm not saying this is a hassle, but it's the truth – it's someone else I have to watch out for. She can't do the same things you can – you can hold your own."

"Yeah, but let's go over one glaring fact again – she's stayed home on her own numerous times before when Teddy takes these trips," Midnight counters. "Also, there's the whole thing where she wants to make us dinner at least once. That doesn't sound helpless to me."

"I never said she was helpless," I correct Midnight, but fall into a relenting sigh afterward. "You do have a point. I'm overthinking this – my head's up my own ass."

"Let the records show on this day, John has confirmed he has his head up his ass," Midnight announces. "Not that the masses didn't know it already – but we now have confirmation."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Seriously, bullshit aside – Starla's looking forward to it, and I think you should, too," Midnight adds, leaning toward me and nuzzling my shoulder. "And for some inexplicable reason, she finds your antics funny."

"I can understand that. She's got good taste," I quip.

Midnight immediately stops her affectionate ministrations and sits back in her seat. "I'm done being nice to you today," she huffs, timed perfectly as we pull into the store parking lot.

"Dammit. We were doing so well, too," I bemoan. Midnight chuckles as I round the parking lot, parking out a decent way rather than trying to search for the perfect place up closer to the building. But as I cut the engine, I turn back to Midnight with a serious expression, freezing her in place before she can open her door.

"What's that look for?"

"Are you gonna behave yourself?"

"Fuck no," she snorts back.

"Good, me either," I agree, popping open my door and climbing out.

"See, with me – you know I'm joking. But it's concerning when you say it," Midnight protests, out of the Trailduster now and trotting over the cracked asphalt to join my side.

"That's why it's perfect – it means I'm keeping you on your toes at all times while we're in here!" I cheer, brushing a wisp of Middie's mane back into position from earlier.

But Midnight purses her lips at my comment, eyeing me warily.

"What?"

"I don't know if you've ever noticed – I don't have toes," she replies, stomping a hoof down to create a loud *clack* against the pavement in demonstration.

"I'm not complimenting you for that comeback – that was lazy," I chastise her.

"But it's true, stupid."

"You're stupid."

"No, you."

A few passersby shoot us looks of concern, surprise, or even incredulity as Midnight and I continue to launch half-assed jabs at each other. If Midnight notices the attention she's getting at all, she's like me now – she doesn't care.

But common courtesy wins out when we're within spitting distance of the concrete sidewalk. Once through the sliding doors, I pause to grab a cart, then rejoin Midnight, who has already stepped onto the shopping floor and awaits me expectantly.

"Well, I have in my head what we need – which isn't too terribly long – and you have Starla's list in your noggin – why don't you lead the way and we'll knock out your stuff first?" I suggest.

Midnight grimaces a bit, hesitant to make a move forward. "I'm not really sure what aisles some things are going to be located – I'm gonna need your guidance for those," she admits.

"Aww, you're actually willing to ask me for assistance," I can't help but gush, threatening to pinch her cheek. "That's so sweet."

"Stuff it."

"Alright, not so sweet."

Midnight shuffles around behind me, giving me a playful shove against my left side and a complementary smirk before setting forward to the nearest aisle.

"So what kind of things do you and Starla have planned for the sleepover, if I may ask?"

"Not really much different from any normal night between us," Midnight answers, picking out a few items from the shelves – from my list and hers. "Some TV, showing her things on the laptop, discussion, maybe playing a bit of cards. She said she has some ideas for stuff too – but Star didn't elaborate any further."

"Alright, I'm officially concerned now."

"You should be."

We weave back and forth through aisles, Midnight having a better idea of the store layout than she initially thought. There isn't too much from our list I have to point out to her either – for much of it is regular items for us she's familiar with. It's what Midnight throws in the cart not on my list that intrigues me, particularly as I start to connect the dots and get an idea of what Starla is after for meals.

It isn't too hard to figure it out when the first few items consist of tortillas, brown rice, and black beans. It's when things suddenly shift to pasta, tomato sauce, and garlic that I have to mentally take a step back and rearrange my mind's eye.

"How much does Starla plan to cook for us?" I question Midnight.

She glances at me, offering a shrug. "Starla really enjoys cooking – it's her passion," she replies. "I also put forth a suggestion that I wouldn't mind learning a little bit on how to cook..."

"Aww, you gonna learn to cook for me, Middie? That's so adora—"

"Shut up, fruitcake."

"Hmph," I pout, crossing my arms. "You're just no fun."

Rather than feed me any more attention, Midnight returns her focus to the products on the shelves. It's a tactic she sticks to for most of the ensuing shopping excursion – but more out of a desire to find things on her own and ensure she gets the remaining items on her memorized list. To that end, she does quite well, as I only have to direct her where to go in a few instances. By the time we're finished up, the cart is over half full with ingredients, quick meals, and snacks – a haul close to double the norm.

"I think that's everything," Midnight nods with confidence, having been standing in front of the cart and running through everything she can see.

"I think we forgot the kitchen sink, to be honest with you," I add rather forlornly.

Midnight's gaze snaps to me, her expression falling somewhere between smug and cross as she tries to keep a straight face. "To reiterate your words from earlier, that was lazy," she scolds me. "You need to apologize for that."

"You never did, why should I?" I counter.

"Eh, I was curious to see if you actually would," she relents, leading me and our cart toward a clear checkout aisle.

"Oh come on. You know me better than that."

As Midnight and I enter the checkout, we're greeted by the stare of a middle-aged, brunette-haired cashier, who looks like she's wearing proper tanned leather for skin. She doesn't speak or appear particularly welcoming as Midnight and I start offloading the cart onto the conveyor belt for her to begin scanning.

"Morning," I say with a wave, trying to break the ice. However, I know that look she's giving me right now. It's a look I probably used to sport.

I can feel the derision coming from her as she starts to tally up our haul, taking a glance at Midnight again, then a leer of suspicion at me. A grown man with what would appear to be a pony companion bot by his side.

"Morning," she finally says, her voice making it apparent that she wakes up every morning hankering for a Pall Mall. "Did you find everything you need?"

"God, I hope so," Midnight laments without missing a beat. It's a response that causes the cashier to jerk her head back to gander at Midnight as she tosses up the last of the items from the cart onto the belt. Midnight doesn't seem to notice any of the attention during this whole interaction, but at this point, I feel like I have to say something – if only to make the situation more perplexing.

"You didn't think she was just eye candy, did you," I say to the cashier, pointing to Midnight.

"I— huh?" she sputters her eyes wide in bewilderment for a moment. The cascading line of items piling up forces her to recollect her wits and shut off the conveyor.

"Don't mind him, miss. He's kind of a moron," Midnight tacks on, giving me a knowing look as she gives a brief wink of her eye at me.

Wow, so she did sense the awkward looks.

The lady seems determined to try burying herself wholly into the checkout task now to finish up and get me and Midnight out of here as quickly as possible, going through our remaining food items faster than before. "One hundred eight even," she says upon final tally, giving me the first glance since I spoke up prior. Her face shows she's just a bit frazzled as if questioning life itself at the moment – or what she's currently dealing with in front of her.

"Damn – you're expensive," I grumble toward Midnight. "Did you bring any money?"

"I already did my part," Midnight replies, sticking her nose up. "Pay the lady, you whiner."

I fumble around with my wallet, grabbing two fifty-dollar bills and a ten before handing them over to the cashier. "Keep the change for putting up with us," I murmur with a grin.

"We can't – we're not supposed to do that, sir," she stammers in a hushed tone.

"I'm not gonna say anything – she won't either," I affirm my stance, pointing to Midnight.

"... thanks. Have a nice day," she mumbles, still taken aback by the situation that's unfolded before her in the last five minutes.

Midnight and I quickly bag our purchases and load up the cart once again. Other than exchanging a few glances with each other, neither of us have anything to say until we're out of the building and headed toward the truck.

"Well, that was quite bold of you," Midnight comments, a hint of a chuckle toward the end.

"Maybe. You clearly enjoyed it, though."

"Never said I didn't. But I recall once upon a time even being around a pony was akin to possessing the plague for all to see – and you went and shouted it out loud like you're proud of it."

"Yeah, weird, isn't it? It's like something changed between then and now," I respond, taking in the features of Midnight's face. "I'll be damned if I can figure out what that change was."

Midnight cocks her head, pretending to mull that 'mystery' for a moment with a fanged smile. "Yeah, I've got to say I'm stumped on this. But it's been clear to me for a while there's something wrong in your head."

"Now, was that something wrong before you, or after you?"

On my back, I suddenly feel the presence of Midnight's down draped over me as her wing gives me a light embrace. "You really didn't have to say anything," she says.

"No, but you were polite – and to be honest, I think she was more disgusted with me," I say with a laugh. "I dunno, I felt like stirring the pot, especially when she didn't acknowledge you. You're more than a pet or tool, so that kinda chafed me a bit."

"I appreciate it – I wasn't gonna put up a fuss," she replies. "Part of keeping a low profile is just going with the flow."

"Is that why I get all the fire and brimstone at home with you?"

"Maybe."

"I feel privileged," I gush, patting her on the withers.