“This sucks,” Anon lamented as he stripped the bed and balled up the sheets at arm’s length.
Tapping her foot against the vacuum’s power switch, Celestia turned to him. “Pardon?”
“I said this sucks,” he belligerently repeated. Throwing the linens into a wheeled cart, he stepped over and pulled the cover from one pillow. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy that the Mareiotte didn’t fire our dumb asses on the spot, but it’s not like this is an upgrade.”
“I think it’s fun!” she gaily chirped. Pulling a feather duster from her apron, she skipped over and began brushing off a nearby dresser. “The new uniform fits perfectly, we get to meet plenty of new ponies, and the manager said he wasn’t mad about the elevator!”
Anon snorted while he continued stripping the bed. “Whatever you say…”
While it was true that they hadn’t been canned after blowing out multiple windows and destroying an elevator, their penance was to be given an inglorious position in housekeeping. The powers that be, either out of pity, spite, or some combination of the two, had assured Celestia that she hadn’t been at fault for her mistakes, that they should have been more specific with her duties, and they’d been quite insistent that she couldn’t screw up cleaning rooms after guests had checked out - a claim that Anon found dubious. Resigning himself to his fate, Anon grabbed a freshly laundered bedsheet from his wheeled cart.
The job wasn’t great and he shuddered at how much worse it would be if he had access to a black light. Everypony knew what sort of thing happened in hotel rooms, even upscale ones like those in the Mareiotte, and he’d be making very, very sure to wash his hands thoroughly before even thinking about eating. As he stretched and straightened the linen over the mattress, an amused giggle gave him a moment for pause.
“Not a word,” he seethed without looking back at her.
“Come now, I think it’s quite fetching on you,” she teased.
There were several things he wasn’t happy about with their newfound position, with the chief being his assigned outfit. Management had claimed that the attire was mandatory for everypony, regardless of their gender, but he wasn’t buying it for a second. While Celestia may not have minded traipsing about in what was essentially a french maid outfit, he wasn’t pleased with being forced to wear the damn thing.
Leaning to one side and looking him over, she smirked. “It’s quite a bold and, might I say, progressive look for you.”
He leered up and back at her, realizing how foolish he must have looked adorned in a frilly dress and apron. “Are you going to help or what?”
“Of course,” she hummed, sauntering to the opposite side of the bed.
As he watched her work, his expression softened and ire withered. There weren’t many benefits to being a housekeeper, but be damned if getting to watch Celestia strut around in her new uniform wasn’t one of them. Eyeing her chest while she bent over and pulled the bedsheet taut, he was reminded of just how lucky he was.
She’d been right about her attire actually fitting her, unlike the suit she’d somehow managed to squeeze into for the bellhop gig, although it wasn’t perfectly sized. Her sheer size made the dress more of a skirt, its hem coming up to just above her knee, and her bosoms tested the limits of what her top could endure. He would have been mortified if anypony had seen them like this, embarrassed for the both of them - thankfully, barring running into guests in the hallways, that wasn’t really an issue.
Brushing her hands off, she pulled a duster from her apron. “There we are! Let me just finish up.”
“Take your time,” he flatly remarked, seeing no need to rush things.
Seating himself on the foot of the bed, he shot her glances while pretending to retie his shoelaces. Was it shameful for him to imagine her doing this for him? Admittedly, yes. Was that going to stop him from appreciating the fleeting glimpses up her dress or the way her rack bounced while she skipped through the room? Hell no. Any stallion worth his salt would kill to have a Princess, resigned or otherwise, as a maid, so daydreaming about the little fantasy was all but unavoidable for him.
In a weird way, he was conflicted. Had Celestia been anypony else, somepony he wasn’t friends with, he would have been completely turned on by having a big, curvy mare blithely cleaning up around him, yet that wasn’t the case. He’d steadily grown close to her, taking comfort in somepony he could confide in, and it felt increasingly off to look at her in an amorous light. Willing himself not to ogle her tush when she bent over and inadvertently offered a picturesque view of her tush, he got up and turned to the cart.
“Just gotta - oh dear,” she gasped as she opened one drawer of the dresser. “Looks like somepony forgot something.”
He winced when she lifted an opened box of prophylactics. “Just chuck it in the trash, he groaned. The small, unsavory discovery was disquieting, but it wasn’t the worst thing they could have stumbled upon. “All done?”
Crumpling and tossing the box in the bin, she stood. “All done. Where to now?”
Snatching a clipboard from the cart, he scanned the list of suites they had to hit. “Room - uh - fourteen-o-eight.”
“Sounds like a plan,” she chortled. Pulling her vacuum behind her, she crossed to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Ready?”
Giving her the go-ahead, he closed his eyes and held his breath. With one elevator out of commission, and neither being willing or able to lug a cart of supplies up multiple flights of stairs, teleportation was the only reasonable way they were going to be able to traverse the various levels of the hotel. He waited for the familiar pop of displaced air and vertigo to pass before he peeked out and found them standing in a hallway on the fourteenth floor.
“O-eight,” he said to himself, pressing onward while knowing she’d be right behind him.
A small silver lining to the job was in how straightforward it was. All they had to do was announce themselves, change out the linens, replenish toiletries, and tidy up - that was it. Slowing at the room in question, he lifted a hand to knock before Celestia grabbed him by the wrist.
“Can I do it this time?” she enthusiastically asked.
He lowered his hand and squinted up at her as she released him. “Mind the voice…”
Blushing slightly, she nodded and rapped on the door. “Housekeeping!” she joyously shouted. “I’ve always wanted to say that!”
Despite his misgivings, he smirked. Her happy-go-lucky attitude was infectious and like the sun itself, never failing to brighten his mood. He listened for a moment, ensuring that they weren’t about to walk in on anypony, and fished a master key from his apron pocket. Fuck if he was gonna get an eyeful of two ponies going a it or be accosted by somepony with a hangover, so he waited a handful of seconds, unlocked the door, and cautiously peeked inside.
“Housekeeping,” he shouted again, giving anypony within a final chance to reply.
Though the room was dark and seemingly empty, silent as a tomb, he instantly recoiled and backed into the corridor. Either somepony had died in there, or somepony had suffered through one hell of an intestinal exorcism. He fanned his face and coughed, knowing what he had to do but finding the task no less onerous.
“What’s - Euch!” Celestia retched. “Heavens - I hope the toilet isn’t broken.”
“Only one way to find out,” he grunted. Balling a fist and placing it in his palm, he turned to her. “Rock, paper, scissors - shoot!”
The game of chance was crude, but it was the only fair way that they could split less than savory endeavors they may have to deal with. Though luck was with him, seeing him win the small contest, he was still going to have to deal with the smell. As he dipped into the hallway and filled his lungs with relatively fresh air, his hand shot to the cart and fumbled for a can of deodorizer.
Marching inside and past the bathroom, he fumigated as he went. “Let’s make this quick…”
“Agreed,” Celestia mumbled, gathering up two hefty bottles of cleaner and a scouring brush before pressing into the lavatory.
At any other time, he would have made light of an alicorn having to scrub a toilet or bathtub, but he wasn’t without a bit of mercy. Nopony would enjoy doing what she had to do, and ribbing her about it wouldn’t help matters in the slightest - with that in mind, he put his efforts into something more constructive. He darted to the bed, tore off the blanket, covers, and pillow cases, then darted back to his cart.
The air freshener didn’t do much, only managing to blunt the worst of the redolence, but it was better than nothing. Whoever had been using the room must have been sick or had a predilection for exotic food, because he’d essentially turned the entire suite into a bio-hazard. He faltered and glanced over at the restroom.
“For fuck’s sake, turn on the fan!” he yelled.
“How could I - Hurk,” Celestia gagged. “Oh jeez, I can taste it.”
Anon shuddered and scowled. God help her if she’d suffered an accidental splash and gotten some toilet water in her mouth. Suppressing the urge to check on her, he fixated on setting a new world record for resetting the room. As he rushed past the bathroom, threw the sheets into the hall, and grabbed a stack of fresh linens, a strange tickle formed in the back of his throat.
It was only when his lungs started to burn and eyes began to water that he understood there was something more than the aftermath of a spicy curry or bad tacos at play. “What the - Hack - hell is happening in there?”
Listening to Celestia cough up a lung, he halted his efforts to finish making the bed to check up on her. The second he peeped in on her, his anxiety went through the roof. Kneeling in front of the toilet, having made a makeshift mask from her apron, Celestia emptied the two bottles of cleaner into the commode.
A distant memory came flooding back, one that led him to charge in, seized Celestia’s arm, and dragged her out of the room. He wasn’t, nor had he ever been a chemist, but even he knew that mixing chemicals was a terrible idea. Fighting against him, she frowned and yanked her arm free.
“I’m almost - Cough - done!” she protested.
“Y…you’re - Wheeze - making chlorine gas or something! We gotta - Cough - get out of here!” he insisted.
Going rigid, she looked back at the toilet. “That’s…that’s bad ~ isn’t it…?”
“Yes!” he squawked. “That’s really fucking bad!”
“I - darn it,” she cursed. “Stand back…”
He shied away when he spotted arks of energy crackling around her horn. “Celestia, don’t do -”
Dazzled by a nova of brilliant white light, he threw himself back and covered his face. Fucking wonderful - she’d just done something that may or may not have seared his retinas into oblivion, but something told him his blindness was just a byproduct of some greater scheme. He blinked away the stars from his vision, took a small step, and was immediately halted by an arm thrown across his chest.
“I may have overdone it…” she sulked.
“Overdone - are you shitting me?!?” he brayed.
‘Overdone it’ may have been the understatement of the century. While she had dealt with the toxic fumes, she’d also erased half the suite and a portion of the ceiling, floor, and adjoining rooms in the process. There were no burn marks or signs that anypony had been injured, although a spherical hollow had been neatly carved out where the lavatory had once sat. Looking downward and into the suite beneath him, he became aware that he’d narrowly avoided what could have been a bad fall.
Keeping him pinned, Celestia sheepishly grinned. “I…I can fix it.”
“How?!” he demanded. “You just vaporized part of the building!”
“I didn’t vaporize it,” she harrumphed. “I teleported it into the upper atmosphere to let it air out.”
He balked. “You could have just - I don’t know - maybe opened a window and flushed the toilet…”
Like an overprotective mother, she kept her arm across his chest and held his gaze. “It worked ~ didn’t it?”
Though her unorthodox solution had technically worked, it would unquestioningly result in their termination and, worse still, may have compromised the structural integrity of the building. As if on cue, a dull groan echoed from above that set his heart racing. He only reluctantly nodded up at her, none too pleased about what she’d done but trusting that she could make it right.
“Observe,” she breathed, closing her eyes in concentration. “All I have to do is reverse the spell and -”
An identical flash to the first burned his eyes and momentarily robbed him of his vision. Her claim was theoretically possible, like removing and subsequently returning a piece of a puzzle, although he’d have to see it to believe it. As the world came back into focus, any optimism that she could fix her little blunder crumbled to ash.
She had renewed the area she’d surgically excised, but the orientation was wrong - really wrong. The floor was the ceiling, everything was misaligned, and he felt like he was standing in a carnival funhouse. He slapped a palm to his face and moaned, realizing how completely screwed they were.
“It’s not that bad,” she sighed. “All I need to do is turn it a little and -”
“I think you’ve done enough,” he defeatedly murmured. “Let’s just go tell the boss, punch out, and leave with a little dignity.”
Her shoulders slumped as hung her arms at her sides. “You…you really think so?”
Reaching up, he caressed her upper arm. “Hey, it’s not that bad. It might sound funny to you, but most people go through this. You’re not going to stick the landing on the first job or two you get.”
“Really?” she pressed with a trace of cautious optimism in her voice.
“Really,” he urged. “Tell you what, if I’m wrong and you don’t find something you like in the next few months, I’ll buy you the biggest sundae you can eat.”
She sidled over to him and slipped her arm over his shoulders. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
Clamping his eyes shut, he did as she asked before she teleported them back downstairs. It sucked that her housekeeping tenure was going to end before a single shift was completed, but such things happened from time to time. Not everypony was cut out for every job, and he was sure there was a career out there that was custom tailored for her - one that didn’t involve sitting on a throne all day. As she sorcerously whisked them from the topsy-turvy suite, he made a mental note to tell her about some of the shitty work experiences he’d had in the past.