Getting Laid

“Twilight, y’all okay?”

Twilight pried her eyelids open to be faced with a pair of green eyes.

“Applejack?”

She stepped aside; Apple Bloom—upon whose back Spike rode—stood behind her and Dash gently fluttered above the bedcurtains. “And a few others. I got on the train the moment I heard ‘bout your little incident. Big Mac, Fluttershy, Rarity and your parents’re waiting in the back. Visitor limit. Pinkie’s comin’ tomorrow, an’ I figured you’d like t’see Spike first.”

Spike gave her a weak smile. “Just because nopony in this solar system’d wanna get you laid doesn’t mean they’d want you in Alpha Centauri, either.”

In any other circumstance, Twilight might have hit him with a bolt of energy; as it was, she laughed back and refrained from threatening castration. “How’d the date go, Spike?”

“Oh,” Spike said, shrugging, “turns out I’m actually gay. Strange how that works, huh?”

Twilight wondered about how it might have worked.

She shook her head of the thought just in time to hear Apple Bloom’s next sentence.

Apple Bloom nodded solemnly. “He’s mah gay best friend, now. Ah’ll try and turn him straight until somethin’ inspirin’ happens an’ ah learn to accept him like he really is. Right, Spike?”

“Right,” he said, and leaned in towards Twilight, whispering. “She watches a lot of movies.”

“Spike,” she said, squinting up at him, “y’realize you’re ridin’ on mah back, right? An’ ah can hear everythin’ you’re sayin’?”

“How’d y’all get tangled up in all this mess, anyhow?” Applejack said, leaning back on a tray table.

“Dash,” she said, throwing the guilty-looking pegasus a guilt-inducing look, “decided to ask my mother how she lost her virginity.”

Applejack winced. “Wasn’t a good story?”

Twilight’s look contained enough semantic context that her future biographers could infer the entirety of her mother’s story by closely studying a scrying-frame of her eyes at that very moment.

Applejack blinked. “Darn.”

“By the way,” Twilight said, “did you say Big Mac was here?”

Applejack sighed. “Twilight, if I say I’m not gonna let y’all ask him ‘bout his first roll in the hay, are y’all gonna do something requiring divine intervention to sort out?”

“Yes,” Twilight said.

Applejack, being the pragmatic mare she was, nodded. “Let’s get this over with. Clear out for a bit, will y’all?”

Apple Bloom, who had been quietly discussing boys with her newfound gay best friend, nodded and cleared out with him on her back.

“And you, Rainbow Dash?”

“I’ll stay,” Dash said, “thank you very much.”

Applejack, not being of the inclination to chase a pegasus out of a confined room in a public hospital, shrugged. “Suit yerself,” she said, and turned out.

A minute later, Big Mac himself came past the bedcurtains and tipped his head politely.

“Mornin’. How’s the trauma?”

“Fine,” Twilight said. “How’d you lose your virginity?”

He looked to Applejack, who gave him a look that quite plainly said I told you I wasn’t lying.

“In the barn.”

Twilight wrote in her notebook. “But how was it?”

“Fun.”

“Of course it was,” Twilight said, “but how? With who?”

Big Mac rolled his eyes. “Caramel.”

“Wait,” Twilight said. “doesn’t Caramel have a girlfriend? Sassaflash or something?”

He snorted. “Fag hag.”

Dash butted in, exasperated. “How’d you end up screwing your cousin?”

“Slightly drunk. Cute.” Big Mac narrowed his eyes. “Why’re you askin’?”

“Science,” Twilight said. “Now, how’d it happen? We need details.”

“Details?” he said, tilting his head to the side. “Dingle goes in the kennel. Not that complicated.”

Applejack’s ongoing, almost silent snicker erupted into a rather raucous laugh.

“Excuse me,” a nurse said, sticking her head past the bedcurtains, “but you’re disturbing the other patients. Could you please tone it down a little?”

“Terribly sorry,” Applejack said, giggling under her breath. “Y’all about ready t’give up?”

“Never,” Dash might have said, if a deep chill had not suddenly enveloped the room, filling her and the others with a sudden, existential dread. The lights flickered as they found themselves covered in a thick coat of pure darkness. Applejack quickly turned to spread the bedcurtains, seeing as she did the darkness congealing—as though it were a mass—into a shape of a pony.

Suddenly, with an enormous flash of rather poetically dark light, the figure of the Princess of the Night emerged resplendent in all her glory.