• Published 25th May 2012
  • 27,077 Views, 2,387 Comments

Of Challenges and Kisses - RavensDagger



Featherweight tries to kiss Scootaloo, stuff happens.

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Forgetting to Pay

Featherweight felt his cheeks becoming wet, despite the thick, hospital-issue blanket that was absorbing his tears as he jammed his head into it. “I-I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, one hoof slung over the bed to touch Scootaloo’s unmoving hoof.

“It-it’s all my fault… I-I love you, Scootaloo…” There, I said it. I said it too late, but I said it… Oh Celestia, please not this. Anything but this.

Heavy sobs escaped him, blocking his ability to breathe as his entire chest constricted painfully around his frail heart. A few moments passed: the only sound within the room were his gut-wrenching --yet silent-- cries, the slow ticking of a wall-mounted clock and the monotone beep of the machine at Scootaloo‘s side. Finally, exasperated and shocked, Featherweight brought a hoof forward and gently caressed Scootaloo’s exposed arm.

“I’ve always loved you,” he said, his voice now calm as his head came to rest at the bed’s edge. “Ever since I first saw you, you were so beautiful, so full of life…” he barked a small, sarcastic laugh. “So full of yourself too… But I loved you anyways, your bright eyes and your deep love for your friends. I wanted you to love me like that.”

Another burst of tears welled out of him, but this time his sobs were accompanied by a light sniffling from somewhere behind him. Turning slowly, Featherweight looked at a white earth pony with a red-crossed nurse cap on her head.

The nurse was clutching at a very damp cloth which she used to dab at her eyes before speaking. “That was so beautiful, go on,” she implored, her voice cracking mid-sentence.

Instead of doing as she asked, Featherweight faced her, and bowed his head pleadingly. «Please, Miss, is there anything you can do? Anything at all?»

The nurse looked into his watery eyes for only a second before blushing deeply and glancing away. «Oh, it’s so cute,» she said.

Cute? Cute! Scootaloo’s dead, and she thinks it’s cute?! his mind screamed angrily. He took a deep, calming breath; he knew full well that there was nothing she could do.

She trotted ahead of him, murmuring under her breath. «Oh, if any of my ex’s were as romantic as that--” More dabbing of her eyes as she leaned over Scootaloo’s small frame.

«Wh-what are you doing?» he inquired, curiosity resurfacing along with an inkling of hope.

Instead of answering, the nurse pulled out a cord from amongst the blankets. With a quick movement and practised ease, the nurse clipped the cable onto a device on Scootaloo’s arm.

Beep, beep, beep.

The monotone signal changed to a steady rhythm as the heart rate machine’s flat bar changed to that of a squiggly line.

“She’s not dead?” he asked, a clear note of pleading in his cracking voice.

“Oh, poor dear, come here.” The nurse ran up to him and seized him in a fierce hug that emptied his shaky lungs. “Of course she’s not dead. Little Miss Scootaloo sometimes likes to move in her sleep is all. Oh, if only she had heard all that.”

Dread filled him as the nurse slowly backed away. She-she’s not dead. And she heard me? This is horrible, this is worse then when she was dead!

“What happened? I mean, what happened to Scootaloo?” Featherweight looked at his dearly beloved, just now noticing the repetitive rise-and-fall of her chest.

“She came in yesterday afternoon. Poor girl had worked herself so hard trying to fly and do goddess-knows-what that she worked up a fever. Doctor Domuch gave her a clean bill of health: just a bit of rest and a few days off. Then, while cross checking her documents, he noticed that she didn’t get all her vaccinations. Well, next thing you know, he’s gone and ordered a full round of meds. The little child was too tired to fight it off, oh, but her eyes told quite a tale when she saw those needles.”

“Uh-huh? Then what?” he asked, shaking his head to clear the cloud of confusion that surrounded him. The nurse’s shrill, gossipy voice did little to help.

“Well, just so happens that she got an allergic reaction to the chicken-pox vaccine, knocked her right out. Well, that and the sleeping medication for the fever. But don’t worry, I read somewhere that sleeping patients hear everything that happens around them.”

He cringed.

“Well, this one time, when I was in bed with Doctor Rash, he mumbled about Band Aid --that’s the little temptress that works in radiology--. Why, I kicked him out of bed so fast, he spent a week looking for his suture” The nurse gestured wildly with her forelimbs as she spoke.

“Why, just last week, Sweeps --that’s the janitor on the second floor-- wrote this cute little poem about me! You should see the thing, all pretty and nice. How did it go again? Something about me giving him aid after aiding my patients? Then one part said: ‘Red Heart --that’s my name, by the way-- you make my heart beat as red as my nethers…’ No, that’s not quite it. Anyway, it was really cute. He got this nice lawyer pony to send it over. Wait, I’ll go get it!” With that, Red Heart scampered out of the room, the air sighing in time with Featherweight as she did so.

“Phew, I thought she’d never shut up,” he said before surveying the room one last time. A small table was placed beside Scootaloo’s bed, a single flower wilting in a water filled jar atop it. Beside the flower, lay a notepad and pencil.

He hesitated, skipping from hoof to hoof, before he finally hopped forward and grabbed both with his mouth and wings. The pencil scratched across the paper as he scribbled a quick note.

“There, that should do it,” he said proudly as he looked down at his handiwork. With a satisfied sigh, Featherweight walked to the edge of the doorway, casting Scootaloo a final glance before exiting the room. I hope they change the blanket before she wakes up.

From deeper within the corridor, Nurse Red Heart ran towards him with a red heart-shaped envelope held within her smiling mouth. Oh-oh, better get out of here before sh--

The nurse, quickly catching on to his intentions, spat out the love letter. “Wait, don’t go! You’re the only one who’ll listen about my love life. Wait!”

He bolted.


Foals were grouped together in small clumps, talking and laughing as they slowly moved away from the quaint schoolhouse. Featherweight stood at the edge of a near-by clearing, face contorted in an ugly frown as his entire body puffed up and down, panting.

His frown deepened as he peeked at the sun. The bright globe was low in the sky, right where it was every day at noon. Why are they leaving? he asked himself.

A white and brown splotch caught his attention. Pipsqueak was smiling, beckoning him over with a wave of his hoof. Behind him, Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom sat on the school’s manicured but trashed lawn. One was peeking at him from beneath a lock of her purple hair while her fore hoof twirled absently on the ground. The other locked eyes with him, she was seething.

Cautiously, Featherweight made his way to his friend and the two awaiting girls. “Hi guys,” he called out, still uncertain.

“Featherweight!” answered Pipsqueak jovially. “We’ve been waiting for you forever,” said the small earth pony as he ran up to him. Once the colt was close to him, Pipsqueak’s demeanour changed and his voice dropped into a whisper. “I’ve got some good news for you, mate,” he looked behind him and at the two fillies, Apple Bloom frowned back. “I set you up on a brilliant double date.”

“A what?!” Featherweight stalled mid-step, his wings unfurling to compensate. “I-I… wait, what? I was gone to see Scootaloo… This crazy nurse chased me and… a double date” He shook his head to clear his muddled thoughts; it didn’t help.

“A double date. Class ended early, so I arranged a little something-something between you and Sweetie and Apple Bloom and I. Don’t worry, they don’t know yet. I covered it up with this clever story about exchanging project notes.”

Just then, Sweetie Belle looked up, finally staring into his eyes before twitching away, her face a deep red. “Pipsqueak, I’m going to kill you.”

“Come on, mate, it’s not that bad. Just try it… I’ll pay for lunch and everything.” Pipsqueak’s demeanour changed once more as the two fillies trotted over, Apple Bloom in the lead.

Featherweight took that moment to check Sweetie Belle out. He had never really paid her any heed before. She was short and scrawny, much more so than Scootaloo, yet she had a certain beauty to her, an elitist’s air that betrayed a good birth and a bright mind. And if she grew up to look anything like her sister, he reasoned, then coughed awkwardly. She’s sorta cute, I guess. Maybe we could use this to talk over yesterday’s incident.

“Howdy,” said Apple Bloom, somehow managing to conceal a threat within the simple greeting.

“H-hi Featherweight,” added Sweetie Belle, her own voice calm and timid, the stellar opposite of the brash personality she showed the previous day.

“Hi girls,” said Featherweight. For a few moments, an awkward silence loomed where everypony waited on the others to talk.

“So, um, apparently we’re going to be, uh, cross-referencing notes, or something?” he added while scratching the back of his head.

“Right!” Pipsqueak piped before running around and past them. “Let’s head to the restaurant first --my treat-- then we can start, alright?” Three ponies nodded uncertainly. “Great, it’s a date then!” Two blushed heavily.

Slowly, the group followed their eager leader and, within moments, Pipsqueak managed to wriggle a conversation out of Apple Bloom. They talked about crops and huge families, which seemed to put the tense earth pony at ease. Sweetie Belle, on the other hoof, was walking straight limbed and giving an undue amount of attention to the ground before her.

“So,” said Featherweight as he tried to break the silence. Immediately, Sweetie Belle’s ears perked up. “Why is everypony out of school so early? Did something happen?”

“Um, sorta. Chowder and Twist had a presentation to do, and, before they even finished, Miss Cheerilee flipped out. Apparently, they used a book from Miss Twilight’s library, something about Carmen Sutra. She ran out of class talking about delivering a letter herself.” The tension in her shoulders seemed to diminish as she talked.

“Then what?” Featherweight pushed her on, preferring to hear her talk rather than wallowing in silence.

“Nothing, really. Everypony waited a bit, then we started to leave. I guess we’ll continue the projects tomorrow. Pipsqueak came up to us and asked us if we wanted to go on a date--” The lithe pony coughed, sputtering as her face burned a bright red. Again, her face twisted away from him.

He sighed under his breath and looked ahead. They were entering the town proper, where ponies gathered around to talk, gossip and shop together, filling the air with a joyful cacophony. Aromas, fresh and tempting to the school-starved children, wafted out of many a cracked open window as families gathered for a quick luncheon indoors or at one of the few small diners in town.

Featherweight frowned as Pipsqueak led them past a few of the more popular --and cheaper-- restaurants, but he remained quiet, letting his friend lead the way peacefully.

Both his ears perked as a new sound drifted towards them, the not-so-happy screaming of two mares. The small group of four milled into a growing crowd. Above them, the tall branches of the library tree sprawled out into the bright blue mid-day sky.

“You snivelling, snot-nosed, impertinent brat!” screamed a familiar voice. “How stupid can you be to let a bunch of foals --foals!-- see that kind of thing?”

Featherweight pushed ahead into the surging crowd and in between two obese ponies. “Brat? Look Miss,” the other voice responded in a tone dripping with sarcasm. “I might be a bit younger than you, but you have no right to call me a brat.”

Suddenly, part of the crowd split, allowing Featherweight a great view of the two fighting mares. Miss Cheerilee and Twilight Sparkle stood facing each other, teeth barred as they took turns yelling into each other’s faces. The teacher’s hair was in disarray as she pointedly stabbed a small pile of books that lay on the ground before her.

“How dare you give such things to my students, they’re foals for Pete’s sake!”

“Oh, you insolent little--” The words were lost in the gasp of the crowd.

One of Featherweight’s eyebrows popped up as he looked at them both. Well, this is different.

Pipsqueak appeared at his side and they both exchanged a look before backing into the crowd once again.

“That was, odd, to say the least,” said Pipsqueak, his face contorted into a rueful smile. The girls stepped out in turn, both of them wearing small frowns.

“Come on, girls, we’re almost there,” the white and brown earth pony added as if nothing had happened at all.

First, Sweetie Belle, then Apple Bloom, shrugged and began following him, leaving Featherweight behind to take one last glance at the spectacle. “It’s not my fault you never taught your students to differentiate between genetics and genitals!”

Shuddering, Featherweight ran after his small group. By the time he caught up to them, they were waiting by the entrance of a restaurant, a fancy one.

A waiter wearing a tuxedo arched an eyebrow at their arrival, but opened the entrance way for them nonetheless. Inside, thick smells of expensive wine and well cooked and exotic vegetables assaulted their noses. Some of the clientele turned to look at them before returning to their overpriced meals. Four sets of hooves clacked against the newly veneered floor while the waiter led them forwards.

“Could we have a seat on the balcony?” asked Pipsqueak, and the waiter nodded, smoothly changing directions. As they walked by, Featherweight caught sight of a young couple. Both of them entwined over their table, mouths stuck together as they made disgusting little slopping sounds.

He looked ahead, face burning up. Sweetie Belle was looking at him, eyes twitching occasionally towards the couple. His blush deepened.

They stepped outside once more, onto a large wooden deck decorated by long flowing flowers that twined around the many bars separating the balcony from the quiet roadway. Thick bushes cut the sound from the mingling ponies beyond, most of which were streaming away from the tree house library. Miss Cheerilee and Twilight were nowhere in sight.

The waiter showed them to their seats with a quick and practiced flourish. Pipsqueak sat beside Featherweight while the two fillies sat on the opposite end of the table, Sweetie facing Featherweight and Apple Bloom in front of Pipsqueak.

Pipsqueak ordered for them, four sandwiches with small salads on the side, as well as drinks. He sat there, smiling blindly as the sun burnt holes into their heads. Without warning, he faced Apple Bloom and managed to start a grudging conversation with her.

Sweetie Belle opened her mouth, then shut it, then opened it once more. She turned and faced the street, eyes averted away from Featherweight. This is going to be a long, long lunch, Featherweight told himself.

“Um, so, how did your project go?” he asked.

Sweetie whirled towards him. “Oh, we-we haven’t presented it yet. It’s okay, I guess.”

“Uh, huh.”

“Yeah.”

Featherweight scratched the back of his head, desperately searching for something interesting to say.

“So, um… I wanted to say sorry…” Sweetie Belle began, her forehoof idly tracing along the wooden lines of the table. With a slight shake of her head, her hair flipped forwards and covered her face. “Sorry for the other day. You know… when I, um, kissed you?”

Pipsqueak coughed, and Apple Bloom cut mid-sentence to stare at the filly beside her. Sweetie Belle’s face practically glowed. The glow was soon mimicked by Featherweight as their two friends cast their attention on him.

Oh boy.

“I can explain?” He winced. Then, Pipsqueak winked at him. This is getting worse and worse by the minute.

The waiter chose that moment to slide a tray onto the table. Four daisy sandwiches and drinks were quickly placed on the table. “I sincerely hope you enjoy your meal,” he said before walking away. The smell of freshly baked bread wafted around them, making more than one stomach grumble.

Nopony touched their meal.

“What in tarnation happened?” Apple Bloom demanded as she stared daggers at Featherweight. Her hoof flew across the table, grabbed the pegasus and pulled him halfway across, smothering the sandwich and spilling his drink in the process. That’s it, I’m dead.

“Stop!” shouted Sweetie Belle as she pushed down on Apple Bloom’s arm, her face tearing up. “It’s not his fault; I’m the one that did it! I kissed him.”

Some of the other customers looked at them, curiosity marking all of their features. Even the young couple turned around and smiled knowingly, a thin strand of saliva hanging between them.

You, kissed,” --Apple Bloom pointed at Featherweight-- “him?”

Sweetie Belle nodded meekly under her friend’s glare. “I-it wasn’t on purpose… sorta…”

“Sorta?”

Pipsqueak sighed, lifting a hoof as if he was asking a question, or maybe in surrender. “Calm down, Apple Bloom, it was just a harmless peck, I’m sure. Nopony wants to make a scene. Goddess knows we want to keep this private.”

Featherweight had the horrible impression that this was going to be very public, very soon. Maybe I could move elsewhere, like Appleloosa, or somewhere even farther. I wonder if I could live with the diamond dogs?

“Shut up, Pipsqueak,” barked the earth pony. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, and I’m tired of hearing your whiny voice.” She got up, pulling away from the table in disgust.

Featherweight watched as Pipsqueak followed her, his face contorted into a patient, yet irate, smile. “Wait up, Apple. We should talk!” Before leaving, he winked at Featherweight and mouthed ‘good luck’.

For a while, peace returned to their cozy corner of the restaurant. Sweetie Belle shrugged self-consciously as Featherweight leaned back into his seat, wingtips rubbing his temples. When did everything become so complicated? he wondered. All I ever wanted was to be with Scootaloo…

A small scraping sound cut through his thoughts. Sweetie Belle had slid Apple Bloom’s sandwich over to him, circumventing his own --now squashed-- one in the process.

“You should eat,” she whispered. “You look hungry.”

He was ready to deny it, but the mouth watering scent, and the lack of solid food in the last twelve hours, decided otherwise. “Thanks.”

They ate, quietly munching on the delicious, if a little pricey, meal. “I’m sorry, I truly am,” she said.

A sliver of anger crossed his mind, but it was quickly suppressed by cold logic and reasoning. Wasn‘t he in the same boat with Scootaloo? “It’s okay. I know what it’s like to chase after someone you like, only to hit a wall.”

“Scootaloo?” she asked.

He gulped. That’s it, this day can’t get any worse. “How did you know?”

She finally smiled, a genuine heartfelt smile that seemed to radiate happiness. “You know these things when you spend enough time looking at somepony.”

She’s cute, he decided, really cute, in that freaky-stalker sorta way.

They resumed their meal. The atmosphere had changed, a little less tense and still awkward, but now slightly jovial in its own way.

Then Sweetie Belle dropped the bomb.

“I’ve been thinking, how are we going to pay for this?”

Crap.




You guys had better like this chapter. I busted my chops (where does that expression come from anyway, it’s rather stupid) writing this over the course of three days, after midnight, all alone, in the dark, on the cheapest laptop imaginable, and with an entire day's work in me.

I must really love you guys.

As usual, the next chapter will contain gratuitous --or just plain big-- amounts of awkward. And maybe some kissing.

Edited by:

StapleCactus

Your Antagonist (King of Foalcon)

Proofread by:

Fred the Saiyan

Cpl Hooves

Right, I know this solution to the... um, cliffhanger, might not be the best, but on short-ish notice, it was the best I could come up with that wouldn't clog up the story.