No Heroes: Life of Pie

by PaulAsaran

Day 7

Fine sat outside the Rock Bottom Inn, watching the ponies pass by and thinking about yesterday’s conversation with Sunflower. The young mare had been insistent about helping, and also insistent that Pinkie was in love with him. Which was… odd. How was he supposed to react? Excited? Nervous? Afraid? A little of everything? A little of everything seemed appropriate right now. He kept trying to think of other things, but his mind kept running in circles around that peculiar pink pony. What if Pinkie wasn’t in love? What if it was just an infatuation? Worse, what if he was just using her infatuation to get over his failure with Fluttershy?

Okay, that last one was stupid. He knew it wasn’t true. He had been crushed by Fluttershy’s rejection – which, in hindsight, had come for entirely justifiable reasons he’d have recognized himself had he not been so obsessed with the idea of his first-ever romance. But it had been months since then, and he no longer felt that ache when he considered the pegasus. Pinkie was…

What was Pinkie? Now there was a question with way more potential answers and meanings than it seemed. The thought made him chuckle. She was so many things. A little wild, a little too happy, but smarter than most ponies thought. Deeper, too. A living embodiment of Joy, with all the positives and negatives that entailed. And yet…

Luna’s letter came to mind. He’d not said anything about it since their little argument near her family home. And yet why else would she be sleeping in today? The nightmares continued. He’d not done a thing to help with them. Wasn’t even sure where to begin. Sunflower had mentioned something about being supportive of Pinkie. He liked to think he was, and she didn’t know about the nightmares, but perhaps that was one of the things she’d meant. In a roundabout way. Maybe.

Not that he hadn’t intended to help her, of course. If only he knew what had her whimpering at night. Yes, he’d seen it. Just that morning he peeked in and found her kicking her hind legs and muttering frightened squeaks. He’d almost woken her up. Was it better to let her sleep and maybe get some rest? He knew how nightmares could prevent that, but at least she was sleeping at all. Why couldn’t Luna have given him some instructions?

“Um, excuse me?”

Tomorrow was the party. Pinkie needed her rest. They’d already agreed not to go to her place today, although he’d had to badger her about it for a while.

“Sir?”

They’d go on Sunday. Pinkie had demanded it in return for this ‘off day’, as she’d called it. Why did he keep wiff-waffing on whether to hurry this along or not?

“Hello?”

A hoof swayed in front of his face, pulling him out of his thoughts. He found himself standing before two mares and a stallion and almost reared back in alarm! How could he have let civilians sneak up on him? By Luna, he was in even deeper than he’d thought if he could let that happen.

Somehow managing to keep his reaction to a mere backstep, he pulled himself out of his thoughts and focused on the black-coated mare who had waved her hoof at him. A short, chubby thing, she had a lovely pink mane a few shades darker than Pinkie’s, cut short and left wild. “Um, sorry. Hello… yes?” Fine shook his head to get the cobwebs out. “Start again?”

The mares tittered. The stallion was looking at him as if wondering how much alcohol he’d imbibed this morning. Fine didn’t blame them in the least. Chuckling and running a hoof through his red mane, he said, “Sorry, I was lost in my own world there. Was there something you three needed?”

“Indeed.” The other mare, a pale orange earth pony sporting glasses and a green mane tied in pigtails, stepped forward. “We heard that… uh…” She paused to eye him from hoof to mane, an anxious smile on her face. “Sorry, this might sound weird. But do you know a pink pony? Like, really pink?”

“So pink it’s even in her name,” the red stallion declared.

They knew Pinkie? They might be some of her new ‘friends’ she met while roaming town yesterday. But still… “What makes you think I do?”

“Oh, he doesn’t know. He’s the wrong one, we got the wrong one.” The orange mare shuffled back from him as if she’d just disturbed a beehive and expected to be stung at any second.

“Relax, C-Roy.” The black mare stopped her friend with a hoof to her back. “He’s just being cautious.” Then, to Fine, “We heard rumor that a stallion matching your description was wandering the town with her. They said you two were staying here.”

So they hadn’t actually seen Pinkie around, only heard rumors? He imagined the odds of Pinkie missing them weren’t that low. Old friends, perhaps? That thought spurred a fresh pleasure in him. Old friends might be able to cheer her up! The way she’d talked, he wasn’t sure she’d even had any around here when she was a filly, and nopony had seemed to recognize her. This was good news, it had to be. Settling back on his haunches, he asked, “Alright, I’ll bite. I take it you three know Pinkie Pie.”

A trio of gasps burst from the ponies, their collective eyes lighting up in unison. C-Roy gained a whole new level of enthusiasm as she reared up and kicked her forelegs. “He knows Pinkamena! Pinkie’s alive!”

“Where is she?” The stallion moved closer, sporting a cheek-splitting grin. “Can we see her? Where’s she been all this time?”

“Why’d she come home?” The black mare was no less eager. “Does she have a job? A family?”

C-Roy pushed in between them. “Are you her coltfriend? Or—” A gasp that had to have been intentionally theatrical escaped her. “Her husband?”

Fine couldn’t help but laugh at that last one. “Calm down! Pinkie’s sleeping in today, but I’d be happy to keep you three company until she comes down. The name’s Fine Crime.”

The stallion cocked his head with a look of distaste. “Fine Crime? What, did your parents want you to get caught or something? Hey!” He glowered at the black mare who had just whacked him on the back of the head. “What was that for?”

“For asking stupid questions.” Turning her attention to Fine, she offered a warm smile. “I’m Tine Oscillation. I know, it’s a mouthful. Ponies just call me ‘Scilla’ for short.” She pointed to the orange mare. “That’s my cousin Corduroy Cotton, but we all call her C-Roy.” C-Roy was too busy scanning the windows over their heads to notice the introduction, perhaps trying to guess which room was Pinkie’s. Scilla patted the still-scowling stallion on the back. “And this here’s Picklestone. PS for short.”

“Ah-ha.” Fine examined each in turn. Noting Scilla’s cutie mark was a tuning fork hovering over a ruby, he pointed to her and said, “Geological Engineer.” Then he pointed to C-Roy, noting her cutie mark of three threads weaving into a rope. “Ropemaker? Maybe something involving clothing.” Then he pointed to PS, “Chef with a specialty for pickles? Or maybe a pickle farmer?”

“Well, you got me down,” Scilla admitted. “I’m the geologist for one of the mines here. C-Roy, the stallion’s asking what you do.”

C-Roy paused in her inspection of the inn to blink at them owlishly behind her glasses. “What? Oh. I’m a Civil Engineer. I mostly design railroads.” Her eyes went back to the windows. “I wonder if Pinkie went into engineering? She was always kind of smart in her own crazy way.”

“Yeah, probably making a doomsday device,” PS added with a chuckle. “You got me part-right. I don’t grow crops or cook food, but I do preserve food. Pickling, jarring, canning, that kinda thing. It’s not anything as impressive as ‘geologist’ or ‘civil engineer’, but it makes me happy.”

“And that’s all that matters,” Scilla primly decreed.

All eyes turned to Fine, and it only took him a second to figure out the unspoken query. Deciding that sticking to his go-to half-honest answer was best for now, he said, “I’m an advisor and liaison for Princess Luna.”

“No way. You’re joking.” PS pointed at Fine while looking at the mares. “He’s joking with us.”

Suddenly C-Roy was in Fine’s face. “You work for Princess Luna? Oh, she’s only the coolest princess ever! What’s she like, is she as commanding and pretty and ominous as they say? Do the aristocrats in Canterlot cower in terror when she so much as looks at them? Could you get her to visit me in my dreams?”

“Whoa! Down, girl.” Scilla bit onto C-Roy’s tail and dragged her away from Fine’s personal space. Spitting out the tail and a few stray green hairs too, she said, “I doubt he can contact her on a whim.” Fine decided it would be better not to correct her, just in case C-Roy chose to badger him about it.

“Pinkie’s alive.”

Now the attention turned to PS, who was staring at his hooves. Or perhaps something else beyond his hooves. “She’s… she’s alive.”

The mares exchanged worried looks before moving to either side of him, pressing in close. He kept muttering to himself, and Fine thought he heard smattering of phrases like “can’t believe it” and “given up.”

Fine watched this with a heavy feeling in his heart. Pinkie had once told him that she’d left home without telling anypony. Given the circumstances, it would be understandable if they’d come to think she was dead. They’d want explanations, and he couldn’t blame them for that. He glanced over his shoulder, wondering if he shouldn’t have woken her after all. “I guess you all knew her when she was little.”

“We were friends,” Scilla said, still watching PS with concern. “We all lived out in the farmlands, so we were like neighbors.”

“There weren’t a lot of other foals out there,” C-Roy added. “So we kind of formed our own little clique out of necessity.”

“When we learned about her family, we just assumed…” Scilla bit her lip and shook her head, nuzzling PS when he shivered between them. For a moment, the ponies were silent as gloomy thoughts passed over them.

“Gloomy thoughts? Who said anything about gloomy thoughts?” Pinkie caught Fine in a faux-stranglehold and looked him in the eye, her tone a mockery of threat. “What’s the big idea, letting me sleep in when there are ponies thinking gloomy thoughts and in need of laughter?”

Fine shifted and twisted, attempting to regain his balance and trying not to think about how close they suddenly were. “I didn’t know they were gonna show up. Might I add this is really uncomfortable?”

Only then did she notice the three ponies staring at her. Releasing Fine – he promptly fell to the ground in a heap – she said, “Oh, hey, guys!” A beat. “Wait, have we met before?”

“Pinkie Pie!”

“Whoa!” The three ponies dogpiled her in their rush and they collapsed in a pile of hugging pony.

“You’re alive, you’re really alive!”

“Where in Equestria have you been, you stupid filly?”

“Why didn’t you tell us you were leaving?”

The questions piled on just as fast as the ponies had. Pinkie flailed uselessly, managing to wave a hoof at Fine as he was starting to stand up. “F-Fine, help, I’ve been glombushed, which is like a friendlier kind of ambush!” As the visitors broke out into laughter, she asked, “Seriously, who are you ponies?”

Somehow, PS managed to escape the pile of limbs. Shaking and brushing back his mane, he said, “Pinkie, it’s us, your friends! Don’t you remember?”

At last freed from her huggy imprisonment, Pinkie stood up and examined the three ponies with a hoof to her chin and tongue sticking out the side of her mouth. A few seconds passed before her eyes went wide. “No way. PS? Scilly? Cotton?”

“Yes, Pinkie.” Scilla took her hoof in both of hers, tears building in her eyes. “It’s us.”

Settling on her haunches, ears folded back, Pinkie took in their smiles one at a time. With a quiet, uncertain voice, she asked, “You remembered me?”

“Of course we remember you.” Scilla clapped her hooves and gave a little bounce. “How could we forget our Pinkie Pie?”

“And you remembered us!” PS did a little jig, tail swishing with his swaying hips.

“But… I…” Pinkie turned to Fine, her eyes teary.

He waved his hooves in denial. “Don’t look at me, they just showed up out of nowhere.”

C-Roy twirled her hooves about one another as she asked, “Where have you been? We were afraid you’d…”

“Hey, that’s right!” PS thrust a hoof at Pinkie. “You disappeared on us. We’re supposed to be mad at you. We all agreed we would be. Except it’s kinda hard to be mad when we’re so excited to see you not dead, so we’ll be mad later.”

Hunching a little lower, eyes on her hooves, Pinkie shuffled in place. “I’m sorry. I had to get away. I c-couldn’t...”

Fine set a hoof to her shoulder but said nothing. The three visitors exchanged alarmed looks before Scilla stepped forward. “It’s okay, Pinkie. We wouldn’t want to stick around either after what happened.”

Pinkie’s head shot up. She went a shade paler as she whispered, “You know?”

“Everypony knows.” PS rubbed his hind legs together and looked away. “I mean, we don’t know know, but…”

“They found your parents and grandmother,” Scilla finished for him, keeping her words gentle. It almost sounded like she was trying to calm a child. “They discovered Limestone the next day. When they couldn’t find you, we all feared the worst.” She came forward to press her forehead to Pinkie’s. “The three of us always hoped, but until now that’s all it was.”

Closing her eyes, Pinkie took a long, deep breath. Slowly, she reached up to hug Scilla close. She said nothing, and soon the other two joined in on the embrace.

Fine wondered if he should be witnessing this. It seemed like such a private thing. He stepped away, but kept close enough to be able to listen in. If she didn’t encourage him to stay, then—

“Is that your coltfriend?”

The reactions were wildly different, from Pinkie’s relieved laughter to PS rolling his eyes. C-Roy looked like she wanted to knock Scilla on the back of the head for her inquiry. Scilla herself just looked comforted at the sound of the laughter, even as her eyes locked on Fine as if to say ‘Don’t you go anywhere.’

“We missed out on almost two decades of Pinkie Pie,” C-Roy said, not bothering to mask her annoyance, “and that’s what you want to know?”

“Hey, we did miss out on almost two decades,” Scilla countered, not taking her eyes off Fine. He felt uncomfortably in the spotlight. “And what’s more important to catch up on than the love life?”

Recovering her smile, Pinkie looked to Fine to ask, “Why do ponies always ask that first? Do we simply have a ‘couple’ look?”

Up until that point Fine’s mind had been locked up in similar thoughts. Hearing her ask the same things he was thinking made him chuckle. “Maybe we do. Dark rogue and the bright mare? Maybe it’s a match made in Elysium.”

Scilla waggled her eyebrows and elbowed Pinkie in the chest. “Oh, is that a confession?”

Fine’s mind kicked into overdrive, for it instantly recognized a decision that needed to be made. Pinkie would hesitate, but he’d been thinking ever since his conversation with Sunflower yesterday. He could end the confusion right now and make a clear announcement, something Pinkie would undoubtedly recognize. But if he did, it would indicate a step forward, that dangerous move that the two of them had been tip-toeing around for months.

Sunflower had tried to explain to him that this constant uncertainty in their relationship was unhealthy for it. He knew she was right. If one of them didn’t make a move… Pinkie’s mouth was opening. Her eyes were full of doubt, her posture slightly hunched, her ears not quite moving back but clearly wanting to. He knew what she’d say, knew because they’d both been saying it for so long. They couldn’t keep saying it forever. And, Fine decided, they wouldn’t.

“Yes, it is.”

For a few seconds that seemed like forever, the words of Pinkie’s friends didn’t exist. All Fine saw was Pinkie’s pupils shrinking to pinpricks, her mouth frozen mid-word. Gradually, ever so gradually, she turned her head to get those microscopic pupils to the corner of her eyes, meeting his. He made sure that when their gazes met, his straight on and hers shying at the edges, that the suggested meaning in that statement was clear. Her face barely moved, yet in those little flexes and twitches raged a hurricane of emotions: surprise, wonder, confusion, fear… and finally settling on a timid, subtle happiness.

And then PS was in between them, poking Fine in the chest and taking on a scowl that was far too deep to be legitimate. “Alright, you! I know we haven’t had Pinkie around in ages, but she’s still our foalhood friend, so I’m obligated to make damn sure you’ll treat her right.”

I’m not sure I can.

Brushing away that one disturbing thought, Fine met the scowl with a smile. “My friend, ignoring that I work for the Princess of High Standards and live in a mansion, there’s an entire town that would be in line ahead of you to kick my flank if I ever so much as looked at Pinkie in the wrong way.”

PS took this in, suddenly not standing so solidly, then took a deliberate step backwards. “I think that’s fair enough.”

“Ignoring the machismo on display,” Scilla said, prompting a chuckle from everypony present, “what town might that be?”

“Oh, I live in Ponyville now.” At last regaining her full energy – seeing that big smile particularly warmed Fine’s heart – Pinkie began to bounce in place. “It’s a wonderful place full of wonderful ponies and I work there as a baker and everypony is my friend! If you ever come by you gotta visit me at Sugarcube Corner so I can hold a big party for all of you and—” she froze midair and let out a gasp so big Fine swore he could see the wind entering her mouth “—the party! Oh my gosh you three totally have to come to my party here at the inn tomorrow it’s going to be awesome and I’ve got a magician and there’ll be music and games and streamers and fireworks if I can convince Sunflower to have them but seriously aren’t magician ponies supposed to have fireworks come on guys you gotta support me on this one what’s a magician without fireworks and there’ll be cake and cupcakes and punch and I might get a little jealous because I can’t eat the cakes and cupcakes but that’s okay as long as everypony in town comes and gets to be my friends and you all have to come so we can all have fun, fun, fun together!”

She hovered over the staring ponies for a few seconds, wide eyes locked onto Scilla’s. Then she finally sucked in a breath and plummeted to earth, landing on her back and sucking down sharp breaths.

Fine stepped forward before the others could get a word in or move to help. “Don’t worry, folks. She does this kind of thing all the time. Right, Pinkie?”

Pinkie waggled both forehooves in the air. “Yeah.” Huff. “All the time.” Wheeze. “I think that one—” Pant “—might have been a—” Gasp “—new record.”

“Well,” Scilla said with a shake of her head, “she’s about as weird as I remember.”

“The term you’re looking for,” Fine said with a grin, “is so random.” What he left unsaid was how incredibly good it felt to see Pinkie back in her element. To know she could still get up to her old hijinks… How strange that something so unnatural and unexplainable was so paramount to making the world feel ‘normal.’

It struck him then that he’d missed her sillier side. She’d toned it down significantly ever since Tidal. Now that he got a fresh dose of it, it felt as if everything was going to be alright. He… liked her goofiness. He wanted more of it. Pinkie Pie without that extra bit of nonsense was no Pinkie Pie at all, and only now did he realize that he wanted the full package. In controlled doses, perhaps, but the whole package nonetheless.

The warmth within him faded, however, when he turned back to her. He was just in time to see her sit up. Then, for a fraction of a second, the mask came off, and Fine saw Pinkie for what she really was. Her mane was not quite so curly, not quite so bright. Her shoulders were slumped, her smile strained. And those eyes, accompanied by dark bags, spoke of a terrible weariness that ran deeper than mere lack of sleep. What Fine saw in that instant was a pony on the edge of shattering, and the sight shocked him to his core.

He blinked, and the mask was back on. Pinkie was grinning and on her hooves and talking to her friends, all cheer and bubbly happiness again. But the memory lingered. A figment of Fine’s imagination? After all, the bags under her eyes were gone. It was possible. But Pinkie was capable of far more wild things than hiding the bags under her eyes. He had to assume that he’d seen something real, something that disturbed him.

“Hey, Equestria to Fine!”

He flinched and found Pinkie making funny faces at him from point blank range. “Huh?”

PS snickered. “That’s twice now he’s been caught daydreaming.”

The others giggled as if they’d been in on a good joke, but not Pinkie. Worry passed over her features, and Fine understood why. She among all ponies knew how uncommon it was for somepony to get the drop on him. “Fine? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Everything’s good.” He gave her a look that he hoped conveyed the meaning of ‘I’ll tell you later.’

Whether she got it or not, she nodded and regained her smile. “Okie-dokie-lokie! We’re gonna grab lunch. You coming?”

What else was he going to say? “Of course. Lead the way.”

And so they left to find something to eat. Before long they found themselves at the same small café he and Pinkie had eaten at on Saturday. It was a fun affair, Pinkie filling her old friends in on everything they’d missed. Well, almost. She talked about the Sugarcube Corner and her friends and the Elements of Harmony. The darker parts didn’t come up; she flitted past those like a butterfly dodging a particularly distasteful flower, and none of them ever noticed. Fine had to throw in his two bits every now and then, particularly when they asked a question about him, but they were almost entirely devoted to Pinkie. He was on the sidelines, which was exactly where he wanted to be.

Eventually, the noise and chatter and social behavior (the very phrase gave him stomach pains) began to frustrate him. He excused himself with but a whispered word to Pinkie, who nodded her understanding and shooed him out before going back to her animated description of the Parasprite infestation. Fine left her to it, settling down in the shadow of the café where things were quieter and he could let the threatening headache fade.

He was glad Pinkie’s friends had arrived. Not just because it did her good to see some familiar faces and have something positive to think of regarding Rockstead, but also because it kept them from having to visit the farmhouse. His mind turned back to the blink of time when he’d seen through to Pinkie’s inner weariness. Once more, he questioned: illusion or reality? If he chose illusion and was wrong… Too risky. He had to assume it was true.

So what could he do about it?

“Excuse me, Mr… uh, Crime?”

He cringed. “Just call me Fine, please.” He looked up to find C-Roy watching him from the corner. “And to think, my former boss thought the name I chose was brilliant. If only he knew.”

C-Roy smiled and shrugged. “Guess you just have to live with it.”

“Guess I do.” Turning to face the mare properly, he asked, “What can I do for you? Pinkie didn’t ask you to come check on me or something, huh?”

“No.” She took a hesitant step forward, head low. “Is it alright if I join you?”

What was this all about? Fine barely kept from frowning. C-Roy seemed the skittish type, and perhaps sensitive too. That she would come out here on her own was enough to tell Fine whatever she wanted to discuss was important, at least to her. So he nodded and gestured for the mare to join him in the shadows, which she did with slow, tentative steps. “Is everything alright?”

She settled down a few feet away, well in the shade but clearly out of his reach. “I don’t know. Maybe.” She looked around them, as if she were seeking some inspiration or a reminder of what she intended to say. After a while of this, she sighed and focused on Fine properly. “Is Pinkie Pie… happy?”

That was a loaded question if ever Fine had heard one. It was made all the worse by how he didn’t know the proper answer. In many ways Pinkie’s overt emotional state could be skin deep and nopony would ever know it. He’d personally grown far better at reading her, but more often than not she remained a mystery. So, with this in mind, he replied, “I don’t think so, no.”

The truth, as he knew it. Something told him C-Roy was an observant pony, and not just by way of stereotyping the quiet ones. The fact that she seemed neither surprised or disturbed by his answer acted as a sort of confirmation of that theory. She pawed at the ground, anxious and worried, before asking, “Why did she come back to Rockstead?”

He considered his answer carefully. “I’m not sure it’s my place to explain that.”

C-Roy closed her eyes and nodded. A moment of quiet passed between them, and he could almost see the gears churning in her skull.

“Her family was murdered,” she declared at last. When her eyes opened, there was a hardness to them he hadn’t expected. “They all died within two months of each other, and then Pinkie disappeared. I know you know this.”

Fine maintained a neutral expression, but deep down he was starting to worry. Did she know, somehow? Was she even more observant than he’d first suspected?

The mare studied him like a bird of prey inspects a rival. “Yes… you knew. Just as I know she’s returned to deal with the aftermath. She’s still haunted by what happened. Seeking closure.” At last, she freed him from that piercing gaze, her eyes drifting to a nearby window. If Fine focused, he could hear ponies talking through the glass, but he was at the wrong angle to look inside. His guts twisted as he thought about where this conversation might be going.

C-Roy continued, merciless. “I saw it. A second of weakness in her defenses. I know you did too. Pinkie smiles and laughs now, but inside she’s a wreck of a pony.” She pressed her hoof to the glass. It seemed like she was reaching for something she knew she could never touch. “It goes without saying. I know Scilla and PS see it, but they laugh and joke and play along. When Pinkie’s world fell apart, she didn’t come to us.” Her eyes drifted to Fine. They were shiny with unreleased tears. “I don’t know what happened at the Pie Farm all those years ago. Honestly, I’m not sure I want to. But I do know Pinkie couldn’t have left it without her own share of scars.”

Fine tensed at the mention of scars, then silently cursed himself, for he knew C-Roy noticed. It was in the shift in her eyes, the flick of her ear, the thinning of her lips. She turned from the window, and her eyes pierced him better than any spear. “I felt them when we hugged. I wonder where those scars came from.”

He bowed his head and tried not to think about that. Maybe, if he was lucky, she would pass them off as from Pinkie’s foalhood past. Maybe. Maybe not. After all, she was an observant pony, and he was doing a crummy job hiding his guilt right now.

C-Roy took a step closer. “Are you going to help our Pinkie? Are you going to be there for her in the way we couldn’t?” Another step. “Can you make her happy?”

“I don’t know.” He met her gaze at last, fighting against the swirling fears and doubts and questions in the back of his mind. “I wish I could say. I’m trying, but Pinkie… she’s not the easiest pony to read.”

At that, the mare gained a sad smile. “I can vouch for that, at least.” She cocked her head. “Do you love her?”

To that he chuckled. “Trying to answer that question in particular is a big part of why we’re out here, and it’s the one everypony keeps asking.” He walked to the window, ignoring how C-Roy’s eyes followed him. He looked through the glass to see Pinkie laughing with PS and Scilla, as well as another pony she’d somehow dragged into the conversation. She caught sight of him through the window and waved merrily. He returned the gesture, his own wave more subdued, but she seemed to take it in stride. A second later all her apparent attention was back on her friends.

“Regardless of whether I love her or not – and I am very eager to know the answer to that question – I would see her happy. Not the in-your-face happy she always displays around others, but the kind of happy she can be when nopony else is around.” He turned to C-Roy, offering her a smile of his own. “Is that fair enough?”

Her own smile had grown since he’d last seen it. She nodded, then rubbed at her eyes. “Yes, I think that’s fair. Also, I think I know how things are going to turn out.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Really? Do tell.”

She shook her head before turning her face away. “What kind of pony would I be if I spoiled the ending?”

“Heh, now that’s just cruel teasing,” he countered.

“Tough. Take it like a stallion.” At his deadpan look, C-Roy stuck her tongue out. The two shared a laugh that echoed the more jovial variety beyond the window. She then settled to her haunches and asked, “Is it okay if I hang out with you for a little longer? I miss Pinkie, but I could use a break from the hubbub.”

“You, too? Good to know I’m not the only one.”

They fell into a companionable silence that lasted a lot longer than it did for most ponies Fine knew. Things were quiet, but it was a good quiet, one that let Fine clear his head and think about the things he wanted to think about. Right now, with his perfect view through the window, that was Pinkie’s brilliant smile and her fluid, smooth movements. He allowed himself to delve into her appearance, taking in all her motions, be they big or small. She wasn’t what one might call graceful, and yet even that perspective could be deceptive with Pinkie Pie. After all, she was currently balanced on one hoof atop a chair that itself was balanced on one leg while juggling bowls. One did not perform such ridiculous feats without having grace.

Pinkie hid hers well.

C-Roy sat beside him, joining him in the observation. She giggled when Pinkie flipped off the chair and dropped the bowls onto the table, safe and sound, and engaged what had to be the café’s manager in friendly conversation. “She hasn’t lost her touch.”

Fine nodded. “Don’t think she could if she wanted to.”

They continued to watch for a little longer, both waving when she caught them looking. She merely waved back and went right on being Pinkie Pie. At the moment that meant wearing a moustache and looking sneaky. No doubt she’d just thought of a ‘plan’ for something or other. The ponies around her were all smiles and laughter, a veritable cloud of enthusiasm and happiness the likes of which only Pinkie Pie could produce.

“Love her or not, you’ll treat her well.”

Blinking, Fine looked to C-Roy. “You think so?”

She never stopped watching Pinkie as she answered, “Yeah. I do.”

The two said nothing after that. They simply watched.

---

Pinkie found Fine still in the alleyway with Cotton. She suspected they’d remained there, in plain view through the window, so that their friends wouldn’t worry about where they’d gone off to. What she hadn’t expected was to see Fine scribbling on a floating piece of parchment and having an apparently animated discussion with Cotton. Or C-Roy, as they’d apparently taken to calling her. “What are you two up to?”

Cotton turned to Pinkie with a grin. “Why didn’t you tell me your coltfriend is Verity Fine? I got his autograph and everything!”

Pinkie blinked a couple times as the words ran a couple loops on her mental highway. Then she ‘got it’ and gave a little bounce. “Oh, yeah! I keep forgetting that Fine’s a big name writer pony and everything. It’s not exactly what he’s known for back home in Ponyville.” She paused to look between the two of them. “Except he usually doesn’t share that information. What gives, Fine?”

Without looking up from his scroll, he replied, “Well, I do lead a bit of a double life. One of the whole points behind a pen name is to avoid being ambushed by fans.”

But Verity Fine wasn’t a pen name, it was his real— Oooooh, I get it! She wished Fine could see the mental wink she was throwing his way right about now. “But that doesn’t explain why you decided to tell Cotton about it. Wait…” She frowned Cotton’s way. “Do you prefer Cotton or C-Roy now?”

Cotton laughed and tried to make a disgusted expression. This was apparently hard to do when one couldn’t stop giggling, so the result was a weird mashup of smiling and tongue that had Pinkie joining in the laughter. “Please, call me Cotton. Or Corduroy. Anything but C-Roy! PS came up with it. He and Scilla keep using it because they know it annoys me.”

“Thank goodness.” Pinkie feigned wiping sweat from her brow. “C-Roy is a terrible nickname for a mare like you.”

“I know, isn’t it?”

Once the laughter subsided, Pinkie noted that Fine was still scribbling on his scroll. He hadn’t joined in on the laughter at all and his face was serious. She’d seen him like this a couple times and felt she knew what was going on. Sidling over, she tried to get a look at what he was writing. “Did you get a new idea?”

Pulling the letter high with his magic, Fine said, “Ah-ah, you know better. It’s not ready for common consumption.” He paused when he realized Pinkie had stretched her neck up high enough to continue reading the notes.

She scanned the words, muzzle pressed against the scroll, and immediately picked up on some similarities. “Hey, is this about my friends?”

“Pinkie, please, the ink’s not dry.” She followed the scroll down to normal standing height and allowed herself to be pulled back. Fine chuckled, probably at the ink on her muzzle, and examined his writing. Nodding, he rolled the scroll up and made it vanish with a poof of magic. “Well, Miss Spoilerpants, if you’re going to cheat anyway then I might as well confess. C-Roy…” Cotton coughed. “Cotton here was telling me about her, Scilla and PS and it gave me an idea for a slice-of-life coming of age story. So yes, your friends are the inspiration.”

Cotton clapped her hooves, a grin plastered across her face that almost put Pinkie to shame. But only almost, because really, who could ever hope to put a Pinkie Pie smile to shame? “Isn’t it awesome? Verity Fine might write a story about me and my friends!”

“Oh, you must be a big fan!” Which, in hindsight, made Pinkie want to question what she and Fine were doing— Nope, not taking the exit of Suspicion and Doubt! Keep it together, Pinkie Pie.

“I am!” Cotton nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve read Rose and Symposium and so many of his stories. I even knew that Verity Fine was a stallion.” She leaned towards Pinkie, the back of her hoof to her cheek as if she were conveying some dark secret. “Most ponies think Verity Fine’s a mare.”

Pinkie giggle-snorted at that, looking to Fine just in time to see his eye roll. “Is there something you need to tell me, Fine?”

“Probably no less than you need to tell me,” he replied smoothly. He looked over her shoulder, then around the alleyway. “Where are the others? Scilla and PS?”

Cotton waved a dismissive hoof. “They’ve probably gone on home. They both have kids to take care of.”

“That’s right!” Fresh excitement ran through Pinkie’s veins as she bounced from hoof to hoof. “Scilly’s got twins! I can’t wait to meet them and become their bestest best aunt Pinkie. And PS’s little colt’s already got his cutie mark! I can’t believe I missed so much.” Her eyes locked onto Cotton’s through the mare’s glasses and she felt her grin stretch even further. “What about you? You got any stallions in your life? Special somepony, foals, grandfoals?”

The mare gained a horrified look as she adjusted her glasses. “I don’t look that old, do I?”

“Nope! But you never know, some ponies start real early.” Hopping to Cotton’s side, Pinkie elbowed her in the ribs and waggled her eyebrows. “Sooooo?”

With a sigh and a smile, Cotton pushed her back. “I’m still single, Pinkie, and happily so. Please, whatever you do, don’t go trying to play matchmaker for me.”

“If she did,” Fine butted into the conversation with a smirk, “You’d have my utmost sympathies.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

Giggling at Pinkie’s exaggerated pout, Cotton stepped away from the two of them. “I’m afraid I should probably get going too. I took off work today to investigate the Pinkie sightings, but have to do some work at home to make up for the lost time. I’ll see you at the party, Pinkie.” She let out a squeak as Pinkie engulfed her in a breath-stealing squeeze. Once she recovered, she returned the embrace, burying her muzzle in Pinkie’s mane. “It’s so very good to know you’re alive.”

To that Pinkie offered only a gentle “Mm-hmm.” They separated, stared at one another for a few seconds, and Cotton finally left them alone. Pinkie watched her go, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction. She’d never expected to see Scilla, PS, and Cotton again. She couldn’t believe they remembered her, considering how young they’d been. Scilla was the oldest, and she’d been… what, ten? Maybe there were other old friends she could get in touch with someday.

Fine stood at her side. “You going to be okay?”

Right, first things first. She met his gaze and felt a small bubble of renewed excitement, but this wasn’t the same as she’d felt when her friends had appeared. No, this was an entirely different sensation. This was nervicitment, and she wasn’t sure whether she should pounce on Fine with the biggest hug ever or sneak into a dark place and hide. Her cheeks weren’t helping her feel any more confident, what with how they burned.

His smile faded, taken over by an expression of worry. He would worry. It was just like him. She couldn’t let the scared part of her win, if only because she didn’t want him to fret. So she sucked down her fear and whispered, “A confession?”

He studied her as if unsure of what her words meant. Then his eyes widened and his cheeks turned as pink as hers probably appeared normally. His surprise lasted for only a second before he was giving her a warm smile. “A confession.”

Pawing at the ground, tail wrapped around her flank, Pinkie forced herself to meet his eyes even as her head lowered. “But I thought this trip was to help us figure that out. H-have you figured it out?”

“What I’ve figured out,” he replied slowly, as if to emphasize every word, “is that we’ll never figure it out unless one of us commits. So that’s what I’m doing. Committing.” He took a step closer, and though there was clear uncertainty in his expression Pinkie could detect a trace of eagerness too. That alone was enough to make her heart sneak its way into her throat and settle down, nice and comfy. “That’s okay… right?”

Pinkie’s mental highway was suddenly awash in the biggest traffic jam ever. A hundred Pinkies were struggling to find their way while a thousand Rainbow Dashes zoomed through in their sports carts shouting at Pinkie to stop blocking the road and make a decision and a million Rarities were trying to get on while screaming ‘Say yes, you silly mare, just say yes!’ but the Pinkies were uncertain if this was the right time to exit and oh Celestia this was serious and if she didn’t exit now she might not get another chance and the Rainbows were honking their horns and the Rarities were gushing about potential dates and why hadn’t she said yes yet Fine was waiting for an answer and she was spinning out of control and the world was spinning with her and the Rainbows and Rarities were crowding her in and—

She moved forward, not knowing what she was doing, not knowing why. She pressed her cheek to Fine’s, rubbed it along his neck, crossed his withers. Then she simply stood there, body tight against his, and relished the sensation as her mind slowly unraveled. She didn’t have to say anything. Didn’t want to say anything. At last, she was every bit as close as she’d always wanted to be.

She didn’t miss how Fine tensed at the contact. And when he returned the motion, pushing his shoulder to hers and resting his cheek against her withers, the sensation warmed her whole soul. This… this felt right, and Pinkie wasn’t sure she ever wanted it to end. So they remained that way for some time, neither speaking, neither moving, their collective warmth filling them both. Pinkie saw no need to think. She was alone on her mental highway. No, not alone. Fine sat beside her, nestled against her shoulder and enjoying the ride.

It couldn’t last forever, and eventually Fine – the real one – moved away. She whined but didn’t pursue. She smiled up at him, not wanting to spoil the moment with her silly words.

Alas, Fine had no such qualms. Still, out of all the things he could have said, “You want to go for a walk?” may have been the best. Soon they were strolling through Rockstead, shoulders and hips pressed together, with no direction in mind. The temptation to break out into wild pronking was only contained by Pinkie’s awareness that doing so would end this perfect moment. Ponies noticed them as they passed and shared hushed whispers, knowing smiles on their lips, and Pinkie could only sigh in contentment. That’s right, everypony, this one’s mine.

And Fine didn’t care. That was the most amazing thing to her. They were walking in the middle of the street in open daylight where anypony could see them together, and Fine didn’t care. Could the situation possibly be any more perfect? Well, yes, it could. There was still some baggage to get rid of. But this was a start, and what a beautiful start it was!

Fine’s words, a whisper even at this close range, filled her ears. “Romance is such a funny thing, don’t you think?”

Though she smiled, Pinkie found his suggestion odd. “I don’t think there’s anything funny about this.” She emphasized her words by nudging her muzzle under his chin playfully.

“I don’t know. I may need to rethink how I write romances. They definitely require a bit more…” He nuzzled her cheek. “Laughter.”

Oh, but that was one warm wave washing over her. She giggled and wrapped her tail around his much shorter one. “You? Write humor? Didn’t you say you weren’t good at that?”

“I did. That’s a problem.” He hummed, pressing his muzzle to her ear so that the sound tingled with the tiny vibrations of his voice. A giggle bubbled out of her as he did it again, and a third time. “How would you like to co-author a story with me?”

Pinkie thought she could feel her eyebrows detaching from her face and fluttering off into the stratosphere. “Me? I know as much about writing as you know about dentistry.” She wondered if the two of them could ride an airship together. Rainbow always slept in clouds. Clouds were soft. If they nope not going there now.

“Maybe you can’t write the story with me,” he agreed, flashing her a handsome smile, if she did say so herself (and she certainly did). “But I know you can tell a story. We can make a story together. Leave the tricky writing part to me.”

The Pinkies in her mind began racing by one at a time, each one giving out an exultant “Yes!” as they passed. It wasn’t that simple, though; she thought of Rarity when she was at work and how she hated being disturbed, or Twilight when she studied, or Octavia practicing her cello. She set a hoof to Fine’s chest, stopping their mutual forward momentum so she could look him in the eyes. “Are you sure? I know your writing time is important to you.”

“It is important to me. We’d probably have to make a few ground rules. However…” He took her hoof from his chest and held it in both of his. The smile he offered had the butterflies dancing in her stomach. Her hind legs joined in, shifting and fidgeting and rubbing against one another. “I want to share that with you. Because it’s important to me.

“Besides,” he added with a wink, “How would I ever write humor without you?”

Her chest felt full, yet she also seemed lighter than air. Trying to ignore the heat of her cheeks and his pleasant rosewood eyes, she whispered, “You won’t.”

“Exactly. You get it.” Pressing against her once more, he entwined his foreleg with hers. “I need you, Pinkie. You won’t deny a stallion in need, will you?”

She had nothing to say to that. She wanted to, she felt the right words in her mind, but her throat clenched up in fierce denial. So she just leaned into him and delighted in the feeling of being needed. It was a new, delightful feeling, and one she hoped she never got used to.

If she were lucky it would seem fresh and new and wonderful like this every day for the rest of her life.

Comments

[Thought Prism]

A double dose today? You spoil me.

[Crimson Dawn]

Another great chapter. I keep thinking I want this to get moving but after reading the chapter I go back to being happy that it is what it is.

[PaulAsaran]

9110932
This has been sitting in my queue waiting for me to publish it for over a week, so if anything I feel guilty about making everyone wait.

9111003
I recently sat down and created an outline to finalize where things are going. We're only halfway through, but I expect things to start picking up in two or three chapters. Granted, 'picking up' is a relative term, as this story's never going to be anything more than a slice of life.

[Idoubledareyou]

My favorite chapter so far.