Spike and the girls

Spike carefully opened the door to his room and stuck his nose through. Who knew if Twilight had teleported and was already waiting for him. But to his relief, the room was free of Twilight.

Very good, he thought to himself, entered carefully, closed the door as quietly as he could and paused.

He and Twilight had shared a room for years, whether in Canterlot or in Ponyville. And Twilight had always insisted on keeping everything neat and clean and they had both conscientiously complied with that, after all, as the number one assistant, Spike was not above almost any task - even if Spike himself had not always found it necessary to sort everything three times.

But there was no trace of order here. The blanket of the large crystal four-poster bed was hanging half on the floor and still had the same covers as the day Spike had left. The pillows were flat and dented and the mattress had more wrinkles than Granny Smith's face, not to mention the fallen feathers and crumbs from the chip bags that were hidden under the bed.

On the small table next to her bed, towers of water glasses stood stacked high next to rows of empty inkwells.

Between scribbled scrolls and flattened quills (some for writing, others from Twilight's wings) carelessly discarded clothes lay on the floor. Probably because the folding screen (the wooden folding wall behind which Twilight usually changed) was already completely overloaded. Only the books that Twilight had brought into the room for her bedtime reading were safely protected from all the chaos on a small shelf on the wall.

A hint of a slightly irritated smile crept across Spike's face as what he had always known came true; without him, Twilight was not even half as tidy as she liked to pretend. Spike could imagine her asking him to help her clean up.

So surprised by the sight that greeted him, Spike had almost forgotten why he was here in the first place. It was only when he saw the bag on his bed that he remembered.

Spike managed to take exactly three steps across the room before he fell over. His feet had become tangled in something and all he could see was the folding screen coming towards him, a large, dark-varnished wooden wall converted into a spare clothesline. He hit the wood hard enough that it tipped not forwards but in the other direction, towards Spike. It was like getting a powerful blow on the back and Spike's uttered "UFF!" was drowned out by a loud crash.

Groaning, Spike pushed everything that was in front of his face to the side before pulling himself out from under the screen. When he tried to stand up, he almost lost his balance again. Annoyed, he pulled the thing that had made him fall from his feet and took a look at it. It was panties. But not just any panties, but the kind that you add to the sexy underwear category, a dark thing decorated with lace that was triangular at the front but covered far less at the back, as it was only made of a thin, inconspicuous thread.

Spike shook the thing off as if it were a spider. He didn't want to imagine that Twilight wore such things. The fact that she even owned such underwear surprised him. He was her number one assistant and ran the household for the most part, but he had never made her underwear; after all, everything had its limits somewhere. But when you spend practically your whole life together, you inevitably see each other's underwear now and then and Spike had never seen anything like that in Twilight's drawers. She never seemed to have cared much for lingerie, and when she put her underwear away in the little drawer in her closet, she only ever had plain-colored panties. The fact that she now had such an amazing item (as some of the dragon boys would probably call it) in her collection confused Spike a little.

As he straightened the screen again, he remembered Twilight pulling those same panties over her lavender-colored hips until the ribbon disappeared between her cheeks, leaning forward slightly, placing a hand on her panties and asking over her shoulder with glowing eyes: "So, how do they look on me, Spike?"

Spike almost let the wooden wall slip from his sweaty fingers.

'No, no, no,' he told himself sternly, shaking the image, as tempting as it was, out of his head. 'You don't think of Twilight like that!'

He finally managed to raise the screen and turned one of the doors a little inward to give him a little more support. As he did so, something fell off the edge and landed on his head. Spike took it down and froze. It was the counterpart to the insane thing Spike had thrown to the floor; a gorgeously decorated, dark bra with an innocently placed bow between the cups.

New images immediately landed in his head. Twilight wearing that bra, adjusting it here and there with pointed fingers until it fit perfectly and her breasts filled it completely. How she slipped into that lingerie before his eyes and then how her blue swimsuit slid down as she shook him, Spike lost his towel and her plump purple breasts jumped into his face with small dark buds in the middle. They looked so soft and yet firm.

When had his room turned into a place of torment like this?

His inner flame flared up again, but he clenched his hand resolutely into a fist. By the three white ponies, how he had stared. And how Starlight had stared. And how Twilght had stared. He had to talk to someone about it and that's why he was here. He threw the bra on the floor and stomped to his bag.

Even his bed looked a little disheveled, although he knew he had cleaned it up when he left, and even some of Twilight's feathers were on his blanket. She hadn't...? No, impossible, why would she? Spike's bed was far too small for Twilight, so why would she choose to sleep in it?

Spike rummaged through his bag until he found what he was looking for: a small metal case with a scale pattern.

There was only one person he could talk to about what had happened, and in that case was the key.

With a few sheets of paper, as well as ink and a quill, Spike had sneaked to the very top of the tower. He knew Twilight was still looking for him, so a simple room was out of the question, no matter how many the castle had. She could just burst in at any time, and what he was planning to do would require a certain amount of time.

He placed a piece of paper against his knee and held the tip of the quill over it, uncertain. What should he write? How should he begin to sum up the full extent of his problem? Spike sat there thinking for a while, until he finally decided to begin with an innocuous HELLO EMBER. That was all he had written down when he reached for the case and pulled out a small stamp. This stamp was part of a pair, and the other one belonged to Dragon Lord Ember. As soon as Spike pressed his stamp on the letter, it disappeared and appeared under the counterpart on Ember. This way they could write letters to each other practically any time.

Spike had bought these stamps for himself and Ember, even though it wasn't cheap. He had had to spend almost all of his pocket money on them, but it was worth it. He thought it was a good idea to keep in touch with Ember in this way, and they were actually intended so that she could get his advice. The fact that he used the stamps immediately after he hadn't even been back in Ponyville for a day to ask Ember for advice was a bit odd.

Ember herself didn't think much of writing letters, after all she was a dragon, but she was happy about it in her own way.

Spike didn't know until now that these stamps were actually intended for lovers who, for whatever reason, wouldn't see each other for a certain period of time. Ember, on the other hand, did, and she was very surprised that Spike wanted to be connected to her in this way until she found out about Spike's ignorance.

Spike just hoped that Ember wouldn't wait too long to reply. Maybe she was doing noble things at the moment, like beating an opponent to the ground in a stadium. Spike paced impatiently, glancing at the stamp every now and then, hoping that a response had magically formed beneath it.

"Come on," he muttered. "Come on, come on, come on." Then finally, just when Spike felt like he had made a furrow in the ground, the piece of paper was suddenly lying beneath the stamp, with a few words scribbled on it.

SPIKE? WHAT DO YOU WANT?

It took Spike a few seconds to decipher the scrawl. Ember had terrible handwriting. But her words still made him smile. That was Ember, direct and straightforward.

Spike's hand hovered over the letter for a minute. Then he wrote: DO YOU HAVE TIME?

This time it only took a few seconds for Ember's reply to come back. IF I DIDN'T HAVE TIME, I WOULDN'T WRITE TO YOU. SO WHAT DO YOU WANT?

A lump formed in Spike's throat. Writing down what had happened suddenly seemed even more difficult than talking about it.

SOMETHING HAPPENED. AND -

Spike considered whether he should really write the following words. After all, they were addressed to Ember, the ruler of the dragon people. He didn't want her to think he was a wimp. But he didn't know how else to say it.

Finally, he pulled himself together. There was no shame in asking someone for help.

SOMETHING HAPPENED. AND I THINK YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN HELP ME. WHAT HAPPENED?

Ember's answer sounded a little annoyed. Spike didn't like her pushing him like that. Didn't she realize how bad he was feeling, he asked himself angrily.

But wasn't that exactly why he had written to her? Because she was so blunt and direct? And a dragon-person, someone from his race, who must understand best how he should deal with all this? And hadn't he felt much closer to his race in the last few weeks, full of strength and conviction and everything that he found so great, openly and secretly? Had all that already evaporated like a cold cloud of smoke in one day in Ponyville?

'Behave like a dragon-person,' he said to himself grimly. 'Like one of them.' There were no more excuses.

TWILIGHT SAW ME NAKED.

He sent this line quickly before he lost his courage again.

This time it took a little longer for Ember to send the letter back, but her answer was all the shorter.

AND?

Spike stared at the word. And? AND?! What else was there to explain? Spike would have liked to write to her that she must have had a really long line. But he thought better of it and wrote:

AND STARLIGHT TOO!

The letter came back again. Again just with:

AND?

Spike tore his hair out. OK, then I'll go one step further.

AND TWILIGHT WAS TOPLESS!

She couldn't possibly misunderstand that!

I DON'T KNOW HOW I CAN HELP YOU WITH THAT. was Ember's short reply, which was even more scribbled than it already has been before, as if she had thrown it down hastily, almost angrily.

But why should she be angry? He should be angry because she was so stubborn and he was angry too. Angry because she didn't understand anything.

EMBER PLEASE. I NEED YOU NOW! DID THE PONY PEOPLE GIVE YOU SOMETHING WEIRD TO DRINK? WHAT? NO! AT LEAST TRY TO UNDERSTAND WHAT I'M TALKING TO YOU!

Spike stopped thinking about what he was writing. It all happened so quickly, as if Ember was sitting right in front of him. He could almost hear her voice in his head as he read her words. Her next message sounded reproachful.

I THINK I UNDERSTAND VERY WELL. BUT IF YOU REALLY WANT TO BROAD ABOUT, DO IT TO SOMEONE ELSE.

WHY BROAD ABOUT?! WHAT SHOULD I BROAD ABOUT?! SO TWO ARE JUST NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU AND NOW YOU'RE DISAPPOINTED IN YOURSELF? DO YOU WANT TO INVITE ME TOO OR WHAT? IF THIS IS SOME WEIRD FRIENDSHIP LESSON, I'M NOT FALLING FOR IT.

Spike had no idea what the hell she was babbling about. Nothing she wrote made any sense.

EMBER I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU MEAN. I'M FEELING LIKE SHIT.

He wrote the last word as big as he could. Even though he felt a little uncomfortable using such expressions, it was the most appropriate word for how he was feeling and he hoped that Ember would finally understand that he was serious.

Ember wrote back:

OKAY SPIKE, TELL ME AGAIN FROM THE BEGINNING. BUT I'LL PUNCH YOU IF YOU JUST BEATED ABOUT THE BUBBLE AGAIN, UNDERSTAND IT?

Apparently his words had had their effect. He picked up a new sheet of paper and placed it neatly on the floor in front of him. His hand began to shake as he lifted the pen and a big lump formed in his throat. How could he describe what had happened when it made him so upset every time he thought about it? It took a lot of effort for him to write even one word. I, he wrote. He crossed that out and wrote SO. That was crossed out too. Man, don't be so difficult, he said to himself. Ember is the only one who can help you and if you back out now, she'll be really angry with you. And you know what she does when she gets angry. Spike shuddered at the thought in his head. The fear of an angry Ember suddenly made him summarize the scenario in the bathroom in a few short sentences.

TWILIGHT WANTED ME TO TAKE A BATH, SO SHE WANTED US TO TAKE A BATH TOGETHER AND I THOUGHT IT WAS A JOKE FROM HER AT FIRST. BUT IT WASN'T! SO WE WENT TO TAKE A BATH AND I ONLY HAD A TOWEL ON AND I THOUGHT TWILIGHT WAS NAKED. BUT SHE WASN'T, SHE WAS WEARING AN OLD SWIMSUIT. SHE WANTED TO KNOW WHAT YOU AND I HAD BEEN DOING TOGETHER AND STARTED TO SHAKE ME. THE TOWEL SLIP DOWN, AS DID HER SWIMSUIT, AND AT THAT SAME MOMENT STARLIGHT CAME IN.

Spike didn't even glance over what he had written, but slapped the stamp on it as soon as the last word was written and waited nervously, wringing his hands, for Ember's reply.

EVEN IN CASE I REPEAT MYSELF: SO? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO HELP YOU NOW?

Spike ran his hand over his face and groaned at first. Ember really had a long line. But at least she wasn't making fun of him. That's why he had written to her, because she was the one he could talk openly with. But for that he had to be open and honest. Not beat around the bush.

I'M SUPER EMBARRASSED ABOUT THIS. I FEEL LIKE I'LL NEVER BE ABLE TO LOOK STARLIGHT AND TWILIGHT IN THE EYES AGAIN. AND THE FIRE IS BURNING IN ME THE WHOLE TIME AND I CAN'T CONTROL IT. I THOUGHT MAYBE YOU COULD GIVE ME SOME ADVICE.

That was as open and honest as possible. Maybe not particularly dragon-manly, but when it came to that, dragonmen valued honesty more than toughness.

FOR HELL, IS THAT ALL? I THOUGHT IT WAS SOMETHING SERIOUS. IT IS SOMETHING SERIOUS. HOLY ASSFIRE, SOME GIRLS SAW YOU NAKED AND THAT'S WHY YOU'RE MAKING SUCH A MESS? MOST GUYS WOULD BE HAPPY IF SOMETHING LIKE THAT HAPPENED TO THEM. AND I'M NOT JUST TALKING ABOUT DRAGONMEN. THIS IS SOMETHING YOU CAN SHOW OFF ABOUT LATER. AS LONG AS YOU DON'T TELL ANYONE YOU ACTED LIKE A PUSSY. I DON'T KNOW WHY YOU'RE ACTING LIKE THAT. WE ALSO TOOK A BATH TOGETHER.

I KNOW, Spike admitted. BUT YOU NEVER MADE A THING OUT OF IT.

As she said the next words, Spike could see the wide grin on Ember's face:

YES, I NEVER MADE A BIG DEAL OUT OF IT, BECAUSE THERE WASN'T A BIG DEAL TO MAKE A BIG DEAL OUT OF.

THANKS FOR PUTTING IT THAT WAY, Spike wrote back dryly. SO WHAT DO YOU SUGGEST? WHAT SHOULD I DO?

I SUGGEST YOU FIND YOUR BALLS BEFORE YOU MEET EITHER OF THEM AGAIN. I THOUGHT WHEN YOU WERE HERE WE TAUGHT YOU TO THINK MORE LIKE A DRAGONMAN, SO PLEASE BEHAVE LIKE ONE. BE PROUD, BE STRONG, BE BRAVE.

Spike read the lines three times and each time he actually felt better. Be proud, be strong, be brave. Unconsciously he reached for Ember's tooth and remembered how Twilight had washed off the thick layer of lava skin. Underneath his skin had felt soft and vulnerable. But dragonmen were not soft and vulnerable, at least not so much that they would run away if someone saw them naked. Exactly! And he was a dragonman too. Even if the lava skin was gone, he still had the bruises and scratches on his body, which now pulsated as if they wanted to pat him on the back encouragingly. He could even hear the voice of a young dragon saying, "If something like that happens again, you stand with your legs apart, look them in the eyes and say: Do you like what you see? No one can resist that. You just have to be ice cold."

Spike had to grin. He suddenly felt a thousand times better. It had been a good idea to ask Ember.

THANKS EMBER. YOU REALLY HELPED ME.

IT'S OKAY. BUT I HAVE ANOTHER QUESTION FOR YOU.

GO FORWARD.

HOW WAS IT FOR YOU TO SEE TWILIGHT'S TITS?

Spike rolled his eyes. Maybe it was only a moderately good idea.

From inside he could hear Twilight calling his name. So she was still looking for him. But this time he wasn't going to run away.

SORRY EMBER. I HAVE TO STOP NOW.

YEAH DO THAT. I'M GOING TO LAUGH FOR THE NEXT FIVE MINUTES, IMAGENING THE FACE YOU MUST'VE HAD.

Spike shoved the stamp into his pocket. It was time to face it like a real dragon person.