Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. stompstompstompstomp stompstompstompstomp

"Vinyl!"

The door swung open, showing the hoofprint of the angry charcoal mare behind it.

"Just what do you think you're doing clopping around like that at this hour," Octavia groused. "I was trying to practice-"

"I got it! I got it!" DJ PON-3 tossed her head proudly, a flick of magic tossing her signature glasses to the side. Those glasses served as more than just a fashion statement. With her glasses on, she was DJ PON-3, always a perfectionist and always driving right to the point, the consummate professional. With her glasses off, she was Vinyl Scratch, goofy party animal, the consummate dork. The latter was the one that faced Octavia, prancing in place like a schoolfilly in her excitement

"What," Octavia sighed, gritting her teeth. "Another record, or some silly microph-"

"The gig! I got a gig! The biggest gig I've ever had!" Vinyl Scratch dropped her saddlebags off to the side and tossed her hair out, giggling triumphantly.

"Another frat party?" Octavia offered. Vinyl's bread and butter paid enough to pay her share of the rent - but only just - and it hadn't paid anything at all since the end of the school year.

"No - no! It's not like that," Vinyl denied. "Well... kind of." Her giggle came back, and her grin broadened. "Have you heard of Prince Blueblood?"

"Well, yes." Prince Blueblood was once of the most infamous members of Equestrian royalty - as much for being intolerable as for being handsome. "I know who he is -" Octavia's mouth fell open in realization. "You don't mean-"

"Yes!" Vinyl Scratch giggled, her hooves bouncing and settling into a rapid beat. "And he wants me to make an original, too! Something that's classic yet exciting. It's a gig and a commission, how sweet it that?"

Octavia laughed a very improper laugh, and they both began prancing together in joy. "I'm so happy for you!" They both shouted at the same time -

"You got his wedding reception!"

"I got his bachelor party!"

Octavia's hooves suddenly rested against the floor as if they had never been moving at all. "What."

"And all the up-and-up are going to be there," Vinyl Scratched grinned, ignoring the flat stare she was receiving. "So I'll get lots of attention from ponies a little more-heeled than Canterlot Magitech." Vinyl continued to dance in place, doing a spin and landing to a timing only she heard.

"Well. I wish you luck. How many bits are you getting for this gig? Two hundred?"

Vinyl puffed, which led to a snicker. "Seriously, Octy, for a party of three hundred nobles? I could talk him into a bit more than that."

Octavia tilted her head to the broad, almost predatory grin Vinyl made. "How much more are you talking?"

Vinyl smiled smugly and tilted her head. "Come here, take a look."

In a flick of brilliant blue magic, Vinyl Scratch levitated a black fabric bag out of her saddlebags and dropped it at Octavia's feet, a few coins spilling forth. Instead of the common yellow or orange coins, every coin in the bag was a gleaming silver. Most were framed with the face of the Dawnbringer Princess, but a few pieces were in unusual shapes or sizes, depicting monuments and great moments in Equestrian history; these coins Octavia only barely recognized as being worth a hundred bits apiece. There were even a few jewels; pocket change for nobility, but invaluable for two fillies struggling to make rent.

"Vinyl... there must be over a thousand bits in here."

"I know! And that's just the deposit."

Octavia's smile came back, warming up to the idea of Vinyl performing at a bachelor party if it meant she could bring in this kind of coin. "Well. That means our rent for a few months is taken care of-"

"-not so fast," Vinyl interrupted, scooping up the coins before Octavia could grab the bag in her teeth. "Most of this is going towards rentals and spell work."

"Rentals. Spell work? Vinyl... you're a unicorn."

Vinyl shrugged, as she trotted off to drop the bag in a cookie jar. "Yeah. And...?"

"What do you need spell work for? Can't you do it yourself?"

"Yeah. Maybe I can, but ..." Vinyl cringed, and rubbed behind an ear, looking away from Octavia. "... this is kind of specialty work, and I really don't want to get it wrong. And the client... didn't exactly request it, but strongly implied it."

"What?" Octavia smirked playfully. "Are you telling me the great DJ PON-3 can't do something?"

Vinyl muttered something bitterly under her breath.

"What was that?"

"No. I'm sure I could do it if I have to. But I can afford to get things wrong. DJ PON-3 can't." Vinyl looked at Octavia. "Reputation is everything in this town. You know that."

Octavia cringed. That was a fact that she knew all too well; she had had her own dry months, and being a music teacher instead of a professional musician had long grated against her pride. "... point taken. But do try to save some of it?"

"Come on, Octy," Vinyl grinned, curling a foreleg around her in a far-too-friendly hug. "When was the last time you knew me to waste bits?"

Vinyl held a corn dog in her magical grip, spinning lazily between two speakers. "Hey, Octy. Did you know you can use sound waves for cooking?"

"It's a baby aurumvorax! Isn't it so cute?" Vinyl held up the small golden gorger with a proud grin. "He's so playful too! Imma name him Chompy."

The remains of a potato cannon array surrounded Vinyl, who could only grin. "Totally worth it," she giggled madly before passing out among the destroyed tubes and tubers.

"Nothing comes to mind," Octavia deadpanned.

"Come on," Vinyl grinned. "Even if this gig changes nothing, we'll be set for months, and pulling off just one gig this size in front of so many ponies will open up so many doors. We should celebrate." Vinyl gave her most winsome smile. "In fact, I'll cook dinner tonight, okay?"

"Vinyl," Octavia sighed. "You know what happened last time..."

"I'll make rose petal dressing," Vinyl teased in a singsong. When not even the promise of her favorite food turned Octavia's frown, Vinyl Scratch took matters in her own hooves, quite literally holding them up to Octavia's face and trying to force her mouth into a smile. She could only take so much of Octavia's firm determination to refuse to smile even when coerced, however, before she fell down giggling.

"Vinyl." Octavia finally relented, allowing herself to smirk. "Alright. We'll celebrate, but don't put all your bits into one basket, deal?"

"Shyeah." Vinyl grinned. "You know my policy, Tavi. DJ PON-3 always delivers."

For the last few weeks, Vinyl Scratch had been disappearing into her studio more and more. In attempting to fill the terms of the commission - a fast, high-energy piece with references to the greatest works in the Equestrian musical tradition - Vinyl had been trying to introduce classical music into her usual "cantercore" style. In the name of her muse, pitch changes, synthesizers, and autotuners absolutely butchered dozens of pieces of classical music. And always, always more percussion and faster and faster tempos. But no matter what she did, no matter how she altered the beats or pitch or completely recomposed the opening of her own piece, the sound of Sapphire Shores just did not lead into the aggressive Maneheim Rocket that opened her song.

Octavia wandered by the utility room that also served as Vinyl's tiny studio, a tray of celery stalks laden with peanut butter in her mouth. It had been days since she last saw Vinyl, who had grown ever more secretive once she had thrown the whole of her time into creation. Setting it on a side table for a moment, Octavia went to tug the door open. "Vinyl, I know you haven't eaten-"

There was a sudden clatter, and the door fell back against Octavia, banging her hoof. By the deep thud that followed, it sounded as if Vinyl had launched herself bodily against the door. Octavia yelped and drew her hoof up, shaking it from side to side to try to get some blood into the stubbed hoof.

"Vinyl, are you okay in there..."

"Uh huh!" Octavia could hear the scrambling of hooves from behind the door. She tested it, but the door was even more firmly stuck.

"... are you sure? You don't sound sound quite yourself," she chided, resting a hoof on the handle. "I brought some snacks. I'll just leave them by the door-"

"Mmmt-mmmt!" Vinyl's voice sounded like she had bitten into a sock; there were no consonants besides those that could be pronounced in the back of the throat.

"Well... I'll just leave the plate on the side table, alright?"

"Uhrr-khrr!" The cadence sounded close enough to an 'okay' to Octavia, so she took a few steps back. The door slowly swung open, and she caught a glimpse of a bright electric blue mane. Quickly, Octavia sprung for the entrance, trying to stick her hoof in it, but Vinyl had already caught the celery boats and floated them single-file into her studio, slamming the door shut sitting back behind the door. Only the sound of grateful crunches answered her roommate's calls.

Oh, you want to play it the hard way? Octavia smiled smugly. With very careful footfalls, the cellist walked to the head of the stairs - but no further. Taking a book in her mouth, Octavia carefully rested herself on the floor, making sure to not make a floorboard creak. She had to make sure Vinyl's secret project wasn't doomed to end in a messy failure again, after all.

Well, two can play that game, Vinyl Scratch.

A few hours later, just before it was time to go to bed, the DJ finally headed out of the tiny studio. "Good thing she's out tonight," the unicorn muttered as the finalized mix tape merrily floated down the hallway in an electric blue field. "I thought she'd never-"

There was the sound of a book dropping on its spine. Cringing, the unicorn turned around... and saw Octavia, sitting at he other end of the hallway, mouth open aghast, the pages of her book still fluttering from its fall.

"Uhm, hey, Octy. This really really isn't what it looks like-"

"Vinyl... I..." Octavia stood up, still in disbelief. "Is that... you?"

The unicorn that had stepped out looked like her old roommate - down to the trademark blue frizz and purple shades. Even the cutie mark was the exact same. But there was no avoiding that the pony standing before her was a stallion. He stood a hoof's breadth taller than the mare did, and his form seemed to be aggressively sculpted, looking nothing like the slightly pudgy mare Octavia had last seen.

"Did you just wait on me to step out? That's really creepy, Tavi," he laughed nervously. A glow of magic lifted his glasses up and over his horn, the familiar red eyes looking back to his roommate's.

"Vinyl... you're... you're a colt!"

"Heh... yeah," the unicorn laughed nervously. He grinned, and gave a pose. "How do I look?"

"Bwuh-wha?" Octavia both wanted to run towards and away from her friend, and she shied. A restrained shy, considering she was a restrained mare, but it spoke volumes. "How- why?"

"Well... you remember those conditions, Tavi?" The DJ shook his mane, sighing. "This is a bachelor party. Any filly there's liable to get hit on or felt up - as a matter of fact, there's going to be some ponies there whose," he coughed politely, "job it is to be there for just that. And don't you go spreading that, ruining Blueblood's reputation will only come back to destroy mine."

"But that doesn't mean you go and turn yourself into a colt!"

"Well, as Prince Blueblood said himself, 'Either you shake that plot on set, or you show up as a stallion.'" He grinned manically. "I didn't think he knew you could do just that. And a verbal contract's just as enforceable in Canterlot."

With a gulp, Octavia realized her eyes had been tracing just behind his cutie mark, and she had to forcibly stop herself from imagining him shaking his plot. "But, Vinyl. Isn't it..." Octavia cringed. "Isn't this kind of body modification magic dangerous?"

"What. Dangerous? Nah," he shook his mane. "This kind of magic is just a basic spell, since it doesn't do any spectacular changes. I'm still me, after all. It just took some pony who was very precise. It'll blink away in a day or two when my own magic overrides it." Octavia watched the strange stallion's mannerisms, but could only see her roommate in his motions. "Oh, and Tavi? Don't call me Vinyl Scratch when I'm like this."

Listening to the cadence of his speech, and the way he liked to bounce on his back hooves when talking, Octavia was mostly satisfied that the stallion in front of her was, in fact, her roommate Vinyl Scratch. "Oh? And what should I call you, then?"

He grinned widely. "Cole."

"Coal? I didn't think charcoal came in white..."

"No, not Coal, Cole. Like in my new stage name," he grinned. The unicorn gave a wave, beckoning Octavia closer. "C'mon, take a look."

Pulling Octavia with a foreleg, Cole waved at the sign drying in the laundry room/studio/recording room, and grinned. "There she is."

There, a hemmed vinyl sign hung up over the walls. Unlike the professionally airbrushed sign that DJ PON-3 used in her normal gigs, this sign had been painted by hoof in fluorescent blue acryllic and pale purple tempera. The airbrushed diamond design of her normal stage persona was recalled, but not perfectly recreated. The messy sponge to the side betrayed some unintentional grattage that shaped the characters DJ COL-7 where the acryllic went awry. The thickness of the tempera diamond in the background varied from thick and dark to pale and near-translucent with no apparent rhyme or reason. And hanging where it was, the paint was obviously dripping onto the floor, where Vinyl had at least had the common sense to leave some newspaper spread out to catch the drips. All in all, it looked like Cole had recruited a team of schoolfillies to paint his new tag.

"Get it? Cole? Cole-seven?" Cole grinned, elbowing Octavia in the flank. "Pret-ty clever, eh?"

Octavia looked to her roommate and gave a weak smile, doing her best to dredge up what warmth she could to keep from revealing what she thought of the very unprofessionally rendered tag. "It's... clever, Cole. Yes."

Well, now I'm sure. Nopony else can be this sincerely... dorky. This has to be my Vinyl.

It had been hours since the party had ended, and the faintest rays of the sun brightened the night sky, the sun hiding sleepily behind the horizon until it could put dawn off no longer. Octavia had become used to sleeping on Vinyl Scratch's schedule, but she hadn't counted on just how long the lighting and sound rig for Blueblood's party would take to tear down. She was just about to give up and go to bed when she heard a loud knocking on the door.

Octavia sleepily opened the door to see Cole's backside pushing the door open, two duffels in his magic glow and the largest being towed with his teeth. "Graph thith," he barked out the side of his mouth, tilting his head so that Octavia could take the handle.

Octavia trotted up and took the handle in her lips, tugging it away so that her roommate could make it into the door. As soon as the duffels had been set aside and door had latched, however, Cole broke out into an excited dance.

"It. Was. Awesome," he grinned smugly, swaying from side to side in giddy excitement. "It may have been his venue, but I," he pointed to himself, "made it a party."

"So it went well, hmm?" Octavia gave a relieved smile - then leaned in to take a whiff of his breath. "Vinyl, have you been drinking?"

"I told you, call me Cole. And yeah, I have. Here," he chuckled, floating something out of his saddlebags to her, "Catch up."

"Vi- Cole. Seriously. It's way too late in the night to be - is that white zinfandel?"

"Call it a nightcap." He dug around in the pantry, looking for glasses. "I figured we deserve a little celebration after living like monks for so long."

After filling Cole's glass, Octavia poured one for herself, but looked at the bottle almost regretfully. "We really can't afford this, you know. We still have the rent to consider..."

"Oh, Blueblood took care of that," Cole laughed, hooves tapping to the tune he had just invented. "He paid everypony what he agreed to..." Cole grinned widely, and shot his glass back. "Then he gave me a fifty percent tip."

"A fifty percent tip? Cole..." Octavia bit her lip. "Just how many bits are we talking about, here?"

The unicorn opened his saddlebags. Three black bags floated out, each over twice as full as the bags from the deposit.

"Enough." He grinned.

Octavia looked at the wine bottle. "... I think that calls for another glass."

"That's the spirit, Tavi," he grinned, eyes shining.

Octavia took another sip, enjoying the notes of blackberry on her tongue. It was very hot, for a wine, but it wasn't as cloyingly sweet as the wines Vinyl usually picked out for her. At least she knows her wine. "Cole... where did you get it at this hour?"

"Oh, it's a gift from from Hoity Toity's stash," Cole said off-hoofedly. "He gave it to me to seal the deal when he hired me to run the lighting and music for his next show."

"Well. Seems you're going legit, COL-7."

"Not that you'd know it by the way I was going on." Cole laughed, pouring himself another glass. "The stage fillies found out about my spell, so they were hitting on me all the time. I almost got as much action as Blueblood did."

"Oh?"

"Well, yeah." Cole grinned broadly. "I mean, if I'm going to spend my time as a colt, I'm going to spend my time as a hot colt. So I made sure I got the best shaper to do this. But it's not like I needed it; I just exude a certain charisma. I mean, just look at me," Cole grinned, standing at an angle and hiking his tail in a photogenic arch. "Total. Stud. Am I right?"

Octavia forced herself to take a rather long sip before she answered. "You do have... heh... flanks of steel," she admitted.

Cole laughed, peering knowingly. "Yeah, you totally want a piece of COL-7," he chuckled smugly. "So did everypony else. It almost got me in trouble, too, I got distracted. Almost had some dead air there."

"Distracted? You?" Grateful for the excuse to change the topic, Octavia went to the trouble of pouring another glass, occupying her mouth for a moment. "I didn't think you had that much free time on stage."

"Well, normally, no," he admitted. "But every DJ has some long songs in their sets. It gives you an excuse to check cables, or mingle to get a read on the crowd, or even just water the flowers. The song I made for Blueblood was over twenty minutes long. Plent-ty of time for the stage mares to get frisky."

"The song you were working on for so long?"

"Yeah. Took me forever to do but I got it."

"I hope it was good. You were a hermit this past week," Octavia teased, her hoof poking Cole good-naturedly in the shoulder. "And you played so many pieces still I don't know what went into the final."

"Well, that's easy. I just..." Cole grinned. "Nah. Let me play it for you, it's still queued up on the rig upstairs."

"I'd... like that, actually." Octavia finished her glass and set it by the sink. "Lead on, Mister DJ."

If she's going to be paying the rent for the next few months on this, at least I can trouble myself to learn how she's pulling this off...

It was the first time Octavia had been in the utility room/studio for some time. Except for where the DJ COL-7 poster had hung to dry, the cellist had to admit it was the cleanest the room had been in months.

"Wow. I wasn't expecting it to look this nice..."

"Yeah. Trash, junk, furniture, things like that are distractions. I needed as empty of a room as possible, so I could keep my mind focused." With a flick of magic, the rig came to life, dials glowing and the low hum of powered speakers filling the soundproofed room. "Could you hit the lights?"

Octavia reached for the light switch - then stopped. "Won't that-"

"I timed a light show, Octy. No need for both."

"Oh. Well, that's a nice touch," she laughed, as she turned off the lights to the room.

"Come on, Tavi. You know my policy," he smiled, as he slid his glasses over his eyes once more, slipping back into his professional stance. "DJ COL-7 never does things by halves."

The song started with nature sounds - the sound of a low thunderstorm, something of a DJ PON-3 signature - when the sound of a cello cut in. Three notes on a cello posed a question; six notes on violin and viola gave the answer. Then, the cello rephrased its question, and another violin and double bass joined the rephrased answer. The lights pulsed in time, and the whole of the piece gave Octavia the impression of watching a flight of pegasi in flight.

"It's nice," Octavia cooed. "I did not know you were so fluent with-"

Then the percussion started, a fast subtle drumbeat giving a rapid bass underpinning to the piece, rigid and unyielding compared to the freewheeling movement of the higher strings. Octavia's mental image shifted from pegasi in formation to pegasi trying to dodge falling rocks, and she murmured softly, not quite finding the words.

Cole turned away from her. "You don't like it." Hiss ears fell back, just a little; it was the most emotion Octavia had ever seen the DJ when he had his 'game face' on.

"Wh-what?" Octavia grimaced and raised a hoof in denial. "No, it's just fine..."

"You're standing there, motionless." DJ COL-7 turned his head, his face once more unreadable and professional. "They don't call it 'cantercore' because it inspires you to stand still." He shook his mane, and grasped for the power switch with his magic. "Sorry to bug you-"

"No, it's okay, Cole, really," Octavia said. She laid her hoof in the path of the main switch, blocking him from flipping it off. "Please?"

She couldn't see anything in his face through his thick purple lenses, but after a moment the glow on the switch faded. Octavia nodded, and flicked her ears towards the speakers, listening. The song had returned to the call-and-answer, but this time all five stringed instruments were playing in unison, the tempo slowing and the ascents and descents of the strings now far less aggressive. The pegasi in her mind's eye were having a far easier time of it now, darting in and out of a forest.

"I can..." She focused on the flight of the pegasi in her mind's eye, and started swaying to the music. She tried to remember her last night at a ball, and the steps to a waltz came to mind. Instinctively, her hooves tried to match the beats. Uncertainty, self-consciousness, and the alcohol in her blood all combined to make the waltz nervous and clumsy, and her steps had all the grace of a swimming gryphon.

Cole rubbed his face with a hoof in disbelief. "No. Just... no. That's not how you dance. I know you can do better, Octy."

With a nudge, Cole moved so he could stand in front of Octavia, his white fur changing color in the alternating lamps. "Dancing isn't just passive. It's not about reacting. It's about playing the music with your body, becoming part of it. Come here," he said, kicking the paintcatchers out of the way to make room. "Start from this. Tap the time with your hoof." He indicated with his own, the heel resting on the floor as the hoof tapped into the ground.

Octavia groused. "I know how to mark a beat, Cole." Still, she yielded, and her hoof tapped the time. It was a simple three-quarters beat, and she could almost hear her hooves disappear into the drumming.

"Now, match the drums," Cole commanded. "Alternate hooves and divide the beat in half."

She watched his example, and was soon moving in time, her hips in constant motion as her hooves clicked on the floor. 'Playing' the song with her hooves helped her push past the fog of the wine, the musician in her keeping her hoofwork steady, and she was soon readily marching to the beat.

"Good. Now, get those back hooves moving, too," Cole said, swaying to the beat. "You're beating time with your hooves, so mark the measure with your tail so your hips move, too. Clip-clop-clip, Clip-clop-clip."

Nodding, she did as he said, and closed her eyes again, the flashes of red and green just barely visible through her eyes. She was now the forest, and the pegasi of the violins were darting in and through her, surrounding her in color and motion. She couldn't help but smile widely, and when she opened her eyes, Cole had stepped closer, and was dancing across from her - and following her lead.

"Great, great," he grinned, peeking a little over his glasses, red eyes sparkling. "You're at least as good as any stuffed-shirt noble, if not better. Want to learn some more advanced stuff?"

"Sure," she grinned softly. Despite their differing tastes, she was enjoying herself.

"Good," he cooed, and stepped forwards to give an encouraging little nuzzle - and giving her a slight blush. "Now, the head. Your body's marking the time, so your head can move around with the melody. Listen to the cello," he grinned softly. "See if you can move your head to it."

"But I've never heard this piece before."

"Pfft. Like you need to. Predict where the melody will go from what you've already heard," he dared, a little toss of his mane. "Like me." Cole started to toss his head from side to side, swaying with the measure. "Keep your motions smooth, don't jerk around too much. Your hooves got the beat, so let your head take the flow." His spiky mane was perfect for it; as his bounced with the music, the loose fluff left an aftertrail under the strobes.

Octavia closed her eyes once more. In her mind's eye, she followed the pegasus that the cello represented, and followed it in its dives and climbs. Her head started moving up and down instinctively, joining the cello in its flight; for a moment, it was all to easy for her to imagine she was flying, the rush of dancing and wine making her feel light-headed and dizzy. She gave a nicker, giddily, and opened up her eyes -

• and Cole was right there, his muzzle right beside hers.

"You're doing great," he whispered into them, giving her ear a small nibble. She squeaked in surprise and missed a beat, before catching up, moving with the stallion once more.

"Now, try closer," he said. "Club dancing isn't about dancing alone, it's about finding someone to perform with. I'm going to step next to you, and you just try to keep your measures in time with mine." Cole looked at Octavia through the side of his purple lenses as he stood, flank to flank next to Octavia, giving her an encouraging grin. "Ready? One, two..."

They swayed together, the violins and violas guiding their hips and heads as they moved in time. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she became aware she was working up a sweat; Cole definitely was. Octavia was moving to the beat almost as well as the song's composer, but every now and then her hooves would step a little too aggressively or her hips would stay a little too conservative and their flanks would brush, the feeling of white fur on black. Octavia gave a little squeak, but sighed with frustration.

"Something wrong?"

"I - It's just that we're... touching a lot."

Cole gave a small shrug next to her, a dip in his next sway. "And what's wrong with that?"

Octavia bit her lip. "We're supposed to be in harmony."

"And we are," Cole explained, giving a little nuzzle to her neck, his lips gently brushing there. "A little touch is okay. We're playing the music with our bodies. It's only natural that we should find ourselves in... unison, from time to time."

The music had slowed again, the midpoint of the song, cantercore leading to something with far more trance behind it. He stage-whispered, "Try it out. Try to stay in motion, but touch a little more."

She nodded, and blushed. In her mind's eye, she was the cello to his double bass, trying to stay in flight. Another of DJ COL-7's signature 'thunderstorms' had broken out, the white strobe brightening once, and she huddled a little closer to him, imagining the two of them as two pegasi alight, flanked in flight by lightning synchronized to the beat. Then, she nearly clobbered his hoof with her own.

He yelped, but stayed in motion. "No, not like that. Don't lead this from the hips, that causes collisions and trips. Again, use your head." He smiled, and looked at Octavia with a warm grin, as he moved to step in front of her. "Try again, babe."

Vinyl Scratch had used 'babe' familiarly before, but hearing it on DJ COL-7's lips sent a little shiver through her. Putting a hoof's width between them once more, the cellist leaned in with her muzzle, her nose softly brushing the fur of his neck. She could smell his sweat - the spell had changed him even down to the level of his scent - and she couldn't help but leave a small kiss at the base of his neck. As she pulled her muzzle back, she kept it in touch with his, nuzzling under his jaw and looking up into those purple lenses. His grin was warm and honest.

"Just like that."

She gave a little squeak and a grin, and nuzzled up to him again, their necks loosely in touch as they danced together, the fur of their cheeks brushing against. She nuzzled against his neck - even this seems so much stronger with him like this - as he gave another nibble up against her ear.

"You've learned fast," he said proudly, as he gave a kiss to a temple, pulling back to look Octavia in the eyes. "If you came to a club and danced like this, you'd pull eyes. With moves and a look like that, every stallion there would want you."

His hoof reached up to brush her mane away, grinning softly. "I know I do."

The moment he said it, he regretted it. Rather than keeping his professional facade, he had allowed himself to grow closer and closer to Octavia, guiding her, teaching her... leading her on. The giddiness of the evening, and the feel of the fine zinfandel in his veins, had led DJ COL-7 to forget his facade and become the lighthearted goofball Octavia knew as a roommate. Completely unfiltered, from his heart to his lips.

Octavia's face was unreadable for a moment - and slowly became something akin to horror. "Tav?" His voice had risen a register, nothing like the professional voice he used in his act.

Before him, the smaller mare gave him a look... and rose a hoof up to his shoulders. She was no longer dancing. Even through his lenses, he felt those purple eyes could bore right through them, a look of grim determination on her face.

I just hit on my roommate she doesn't like mares oh god I'm going to get kicked out

"I'm sorry, Octavia," he stammered, using her full name. "It just kind of slipped out-"

Her hoof hugged around his neck as her lips met his hungrily.

Surprised by her forwardness, Cole was caught off guard as the smaller black mare eagerly pushed the kiss. Her breath was warm and wet against his lips, and had notes of sharp blackberries. Her eyes darted between his, looking behind that screen, as a perfectly pedicured hoof slid over his chest, affectionately sliding about his fur.

Cole fear slowly gave way to a grin, until he let his kiss meet hers. His tongue pressed out against her lips and met with no resistance, her own welcoming his in. One strong foreleg wrapped about her, his other resting on the ground to support them both as she reared up in the kiss.

He hadn't been ignorant of his effect on her - but his smug bravado and experience with the fillies at the gig had misled him, leading him to think that that sort of casual arousal was just something his spell-made body caused. He never stopped to think about how rare it was for Octavia to show even brief affection, much less be so openly tactile.

She broke the kiss to catch her breath, inexpert but obviously excited at her first proper kiss. When she spoke again, her voice was so low it was almost a purr. "Do they do that on the dance floor?"

"Not much," he laughed, and leaned in to nip at the back of her neck, eliciting a throaty groan from her. "There's a few other things they disapprove of, you know."

"Oh?" He felt her muzzle up underneath his as she stroked a teasing hoof against his chest, downright tame compared to the feeling of her tongue against his just a moment ago. "The sorts of things that can be done at ... more private venues, shall we say?"

He snorted in amusement, and looked down at Octavia. "Some of those," he smiled, as he gently nuzzled over an ear. They disappeared between beats of a strobe, guiding themselves by touch, by scent. The music was forgotten - his heart was beating faster than any drum, anyways.

"Maybe you could teach me some of those, too," Octavia purred, stepping back. She turned, and headed towards the door, looking over her shoulder as she made sure his eyes weren't on hers, but rather, were staring just below, where she waved her tail enticingly.

He couldn't believe the feelings. It wasn't the first time he had felt himself becoming stirred up - the dancers at the club had made sure of that several times, since his awkwardness had amused both the dancers and the bachelor of the hour - but this was the first time it felt sincere. He wanted to hold her, to fill her, to wrap her with himself and keep him her and have her. And the way she had her tail hiked, showing herself off to him with that smoldering look in her eyes, she wanted that much and more.

I've never known her to be so bold. She's not the kind to be this direct...

His throat suddenly felt dry, recalling the smell of blackberries on her breath. Suddenly, the past fifteen minutes simply clicked in his mind, recalling the glasses she had sipped as he bragged and swaggered. She was tired and exhausted, and the zinfandel they had shared had been some of the hottest wine to ever touch DJ COL-7's lips, much less the normally clean demure Octavia.

Unless, of course, she's only horny because she's drunk.

Cole looked down, his demeanor suddenly serious. "Are we doing this?"

Not expecting such a direct question, Octavia bit her lip, and looked away, uncomfortable with being put on the spot. "I..." She brought her hooves in a little in embarrassment.

His voice hardened, and he brought himself up to his full height. He must have been a hoof's width taller than normal. "Octavia, yes, I want you. But if you are not absolutely, one hundred percent sure you want to do this, we stop now. Are we doing this."

Octavia winced. She couldn't quite put her hoof on what she had done wrong, but she couldn't take that stare.

I've never seen Vinyl out and out angry before.

Octavia cleared her throat, and turned around, still cowed.

"I - yes, Vinyl, I am okay with this." She dropped her tail shamefully and turned around to face the colt once more. "I'm... not good at this. But I trust you implicitly. I have for years." She smiled nervously. "If I hadn't, I wouldn't have let you lay your hooves on me to begin with-"

much less those lips those hooves oh what else can you lay on me

"- and yes. Yes, it has been years since I've... lain with any colt. And I definitely am no good at seduction." She cleared her throat, and tugged nervously on her bowtie. "But... I've known you for years, and you've never let me down ... not when you've given your word, at least. So, more than anyone I know... I feel safe with you, Vinyl."

Octavia smiled. "So... if you're up for it... then I am."

Cole paused, and for an interminable moment, Octavia hoped their friendship would have anything left. Finally, when he spoke up, his voice was ragged. "Well played, Tavi." He closed the distance between them and laid a gentler kiss on her lips, his hoof brushing up hers.

"Aheh," Cole smiled, his suspicion fading into a sheepish vairation of his usual devilmaycare grin, "My bed or yours? Yours is nicer..."

"But yours is bigger," Octavia smiled. She could feel her boldness returning. "And after all, my dear Cole... it's my understanding that the stallion has the honor of inviting his mare into his bed first."

Author's Note

The title of this chapter is from Mozart's Eine kleine nachtmusik, and a shameless pun on the high-energy musical genre "nightcore" which is often associated with DJ PON-3.

Explicit content warning: Chapter 2 has explicit pony experimentation. It can be skipped.