My Dinner With Shimmer

Back in high school, Wallflower Blush imagined Sunset Shimmer as the type of girl who'd ride a motorcycle. It suited her ‘causeless teenage rebel who thumbed her nose at tardy slips and helmet laws alike’ aesthetic. She'd probably ride something shiny and sexy, with chrome handlebars, and flames painted on the side to make it go faster.

In reality, while her friends were off-roading in four-wheelers, road-tripping in EVs, or being cited in sports cars (though Rarity maintained that the pedestrian came out of nowhere), Sunset was chugging along in a station wagon old enough to run for president. She'd driven that old beater since high school – that was three years of bopping along to CDs, fiddling with radio dials, and straining her neck to look out the rear window while backing up.

She kept it clean, though, inside and out. The wood paneling on the exterior gleamed like new, and the seats looked like they were vacuumed weekly. It was roomy, too. Especially when they folded the seats back at the end of the night – which was just about every time they went out now.

Tonight's date was ending the way they usually did: Wallflower reclining in Sunset's arms, pleasantly sore and sated, her head pillowed by Sunset's breasts. Sunset's hands idly stroked her hair, plying her locks with soft caresses that made Wallflower feel warm and safe.

Maybe there were better places they could've spent their dates, but there were plenty of worse places, too.

"What're you thinking about?" Sunset murmured.

"Boobs," said Wallflower. "How about you?"

"Also boobs, if I'm being honest." Sunset's fingertip ran down the middle of Wallflower's forehead, terminating in a gentle boop on her nose. "Thanks for coming out with me tonight."

"You don't have to thank me for anything – this is the highlight of my whole week." Wallflower nuzzled her cheek against Sunset's bare, supple skin. "Thank you for picking me up."

"Thank you for buying dinner." Sunset pulled her finger away. "You sure you don't mind?"

"What, paying for dinner?" Wallflower tilted her head back to look up at Sunset; a stray lock of hair fell into her eyes and she blew it away with a foof. "I'm telling you, don't sweat it. Nobody ever went broke buying value meals from Jack-in-the-Crack."

Sunset tucked the lock of hair behind Wallflower's cheek and stroked, gently, down her jawline. "It's not that I worry about you going broke. It's just that you always pay for dinner, and I don't want this to be one-sided."

Wallflower sat up, Sunset's words ringing in her mind, and looked her in the eye.

Don't want what to be one-sided?

She thought about asking, but tonight wasn't the night for that discussion.

"Well, maybe," Wallflower said, jabbing an exaggeratedly accusatory finger at Sunset. "Maybe I always pay for dinner because you always drive, and I'm trying to make sure things aren't one-sided."

Sunset stared blankly at Wallflower. She glanced down at her finger. Then at her bare chest.

Then she started chuckling, leaned forward, and tenderly kissed Wallflower on the lips. She broke from it just as quickly, pulling back with an apologetic smile.

"It's getting pretty late," said Sunset. "Help me get decent?"

After a few minutes of groping around for their clothes, Sunset and Wallflower were dressed again, and took their seats up front for the drive home. They didn't speak on the way, but Sunset's hand found Wallflower's, her thumb gently stroking her knuckles.

Wallflower thought back to what Sunset said – not wanting 'this' to be one-sided. What they had didn't have a label, as far as Wallflower was concerned, but what would Sunset have called it? A few times a week, Sunset would pick her up and take her out. They'd eat something cheap, or do something fun, then park the car someplace secluded and recline the back seat. They always had a good time, clicking in ways Wallflower never thought they would when they were still in school, but neither of them had ventured to stick a name on whatever it was they were doing.

Maybe tonight wasn't the right time for it.

Maybe, Wallflower admitted to herself, there'd never be a right time for it.

For now, all she could do was focus on Sunset's hand, on how safe she felt in Sunset's grip. And that would be enough for her.

She hoped it would be enough for Sunset, too.

They came to Wallflower's apartment building before long, the aging brakes on Sunset's car whining in protest as she pulled to a halt. Wallflower unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned over to give Sunset a kiss.

Sunset intercepted her lips with a finger. "Y'know, I've been thinking about what you said – about paying for dinner 'cuz I always have to drive?"

Wallflower opened her mouth and took Sunset's fingertip between her lips, suckling gently. "Mm?"

She could see Sunset's cheeks redden in the street lights outside. "Why don't you come over for dinner tomorrow? Let me treat you for once."

Wallflower's jaw went slack. "Come over? To your place?"

"Well, yeah. Why not?" Sunset fluttered her eyelashes. "Besides, wouldn't you like to fool around in a bed for once?"

Couldn't argue with that logic.

Wallflower darted forward to give Sunset a parting kiss – deep, slow – and pulled away wetly. "What're you gonna cook?" she whispered.

A heartbeat passed before Sunset replied. "I'll make you something nice. You'll love it."

Wallflower beamed. She opened the door, hopped out of the car, and shuffled over to the front door of the apartment building. Before heading inside, she turned around and waved at Sunset, who flashed her brights once in response. Then her station wagon chuffed away into the night.

Wallflower hurried into the building and up to her apartment door, giddy and buoyant. Mom was still up when she got in, watching TV with a mug of tea in her hands and Wallflower's cat in her lap. Mom looked up when she heard the door.

"Tadaima," Wallflower weebed. "Was work okay?"

"Mmhm." Mom looked back at the TV, sipping her tea. "That's not the shirt you went out in."

Wallflower looked down at herself. The words "POST CRUSH @ STARSWIRL" looked back up at her from an undersized black concert tee.

Her face promptly caught fire, and she muttered an inarticulate string of consonants and scuttled away. Once ensconced in the organized chaos of her bedroom, she dropped to her butt, buried her face in her hands, and groaned. She could never bring Sunset over after this, she realized, and Sunset could never be allowed to meet Mom.

She looked around for something to distract herself with, and found her laptop, haphazardly left close to her door. Habit made her load up a cooking show she subscribed to; she queued up a video and gathered her knees against her chest to watch.

A disembodied torso in an apron appeared on the screen, standing behind a countertop with a collection of ingredients. "Hey guys, welcome back to Dining With Dinesh. Today, we're going back to basics with some savory pesto. This recipe will be posted on my website, which you can unlock by signing up for our first tier of..."

He started droning on about subscription packages and memberships. Wallflower rolled her eyes and plopped her chin on her knees, tuning him out until he shut up about money and started listing off ingredients. Watching him work made her wonder what Sunset was planning to make – and made her hope that, someday, she'd have the chance to return the favor. And/or her shirt.

We really should've turned on the lights before we got dressed.