//------------------------------//
// Chapter 44: Distribution 
// Story: Spike of All Trades 
// by Ariamaki 
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Their conversation continued to meander as he sliced and griddled his way through a near-endless march of sliced carrots, Pinkie holding a knife with easy practice in one curled hoof, to keep her mouth free for talking. He left out most of the hoary details of the visit with Rainbow Dash, and kept mum on how much the Crusaders had brutalized him during the training: No sense putting anypony off of their appetite, given what they were working towards.

"Why were you humming a birthday song as you laid out the tables, by the way?"

"Aw Spike, did you forget all that vigorous sweaty effort we put into making our baby?"

"...SO are we not being cautious about how we phrase things anymore, or is this cosmic revenge for the things I did to Rarity earlier?"

 "Dunno! Probably the first one. Anyways it's the tamale's birthday, silly!"

"Do tamales have birthdays?"

 "When they're six feet long and take a week of my life to prepare they do."

"Fair! Well then, happy birthday to... Does it have a name, too?"

 "Well, since it's a zacahuil tamale, its name is Zach! Isn't that right, Zach?"

Thankfully for Spike, the enormous mass of slowly-cooling food didn't speak from within its heavy swaddling of deeply scorched banana leaves... But he wouldn't have put it past this day if it had. He finished the batch of carrots and started in on the last remaining stack of fresh banana leaves, apparently a traditional part of serving the final slices (and coincidentally giving him something to take his and Twilight's portions home in) when they were finished. 

"You mentioned doing something to Rarity earlier?"

Spike nodded slowly, using his claws to divvy up and split the leaves as Pinkie directed.
"Mmh, that was coming up soon in the recap anyways. I met her aunt and uncle, and me and her aunt... She's super cool by the way! I need to introduce you two at some point. But, well... we might have made a few fairly crude jokes working together."

"Oooh, I bet Rarity didn't see that coming at all! How silly was her reaction?"

"...Not very. Or at all. We got into a... discussion. The serious kind."

Pinkie's hooves stilled ever-so-briefly before she scurried back to work, getting down various bowls and glasses to serve all the 'corners' in.
"Oh?"

"Yeah. We, um... came to a conclusion. About my crush."

The previous pause had been so slight Spike almost thought he imagined it, but in response to this, Pinkie actively set down everything she was working on... Although she didn't turn to face him.
"A-and?"

"She let me down easy... and I did the same in return? Is that even possible, actually? Can two-"

He couldn't even finish trying to leaven the news with a joke when Pinkie turned and pulled him into a hug. Earlier today that would have buried his face somewhere in her chest fluff, but now his chin rested on her shoulder... It felt more comfortable in a way, and he put his own arms up to return the gesture. Whether it was the lingering shock of the entire situation, the emotional distance of focus on the tasks he had, or the Gamer's Mind... He didn't cry. But he felt relief and comfort, so it wasn't as if he had become an unfeeling machine. He just felt things more subtly, was all: Showed it less.

Pinkie on the other hoof was tearing up already, sniffling the way Rarity had earlier. She really was one of the most compassionate ponies he knew, focused on spreading cheer and making smiles... Even if that ran her ragged sometimes. So he gave the hug back twice as fiercely, squeezing her tight and making sure she knew this wasn't just about him. It seemed to help, and quickly at that: When they pulled apart again Pinkie was smiling at him, eyes bright (if still a bit watery), grin wide.

"If you ever wanna talk about it, I'll drop anything I've gotta drop, OK? I mean, I might not literally drop a jar or a pan of cookies or-"

Some part of him wanted to interrupt her list, but instead he turned and finished working on the pile of leaves, smiling and letting the words wash over him. There was something uniquely relaxing and helpful about how even in these extreme circumstances, Pinkie Pie was still emphatically herself. Eventually she wound down from her spree of dialogue (monologue, arguably) and looked around.

"-or a tamale. Tamale, tamale... Oh geez! The tam... Oh hey you handled it!"

Spike waved one claw at the spread of 'corners' and leaves, all loaded into a tray and cart.
"Yup: I think that was everything we needed right?"

"Trust good ol' Spike to get my work done for my while I'm in a babblefugue."

"...Does that involve some kind of pink mist descending over your vision?"

Pinkie nodded vigorously enough to make her mane whip-crack with a sound like a party popper.
"Lil' bit: But hey, let's go get this literal hot tamale out to all those hungry ponies, and you can catch me up on the 'story of today' later, alright? You have a quest deadline and all that, and I totally know I can end up causing lingering conversations at the best of times..."

"I always have fun lingering with you, but you're not wrong: I'm free tomorrow, if you are."

"Well then that's a date! Deal. It's a deal."

It was a perfect mirror to his own flub that morning, so he couldn't help but laugh as he pushed the cart, while Pinkie bounced ahead to open the doors and tried to hide her blush at the same time. When they made it out the front door, Spike almost worried that the crowd was going to descend on the tamale and on them in equal measure, but his paranoia was disproven: The ponies restrained themselves to a chorus of ooohs, aaahs, and assorted slurpy drool noises instead. While Pinkie got her serving utensils and knives ready, Spike took the opportunity to split open the thick protective layer of banana leaves around their creation.

The fragrance of the heavily-spiced dish had already been seeping out from the edges for a little while, but when his enhanced claws slid across the length of it a pungent punch came wafting out of the incision. The caramelized base notes of the roasted vegetables, the tingling burn of all the different peppers (fresh and dried), and the sweet earthy finish of the masa itself came together to send another wave of awed reactions through the crowd. Even Spike, having been a large part of cooking this all and reinforced by the Gamer's Mind, reeled at the sheer complexity of the scent.

"Thank you, Spike! Ready to take home the first slices?"

Pinkie had finished setting everything out and was trotting over with a sizable cleaver precariously bobbing in the curls of her mane. Spike wanted to say the image was threatening or frightening, but it was honestly just cute. He stepped back and bowed, flourishing with one hand towards the table.
"After you... And thank you."

Her first cut into the surface managed to intensify the smells even further, and two huge slices (the interiors filled with glistening squash and so much more) were tipped out onto leaf-lined plates, then expertly wrapped into loose pouches for him to take away. Spike accepted them gratefully and took his leave, not wanting to linger any longer than he had to: It was her idea, her recipe, and most of all her work, and he already had his reward well at hand. The rest of this shindig was Pinkie's time to shine, and she was already smiling and happily chatting to everypony as he walked away.