The Incredible Gravitational Pull of Canterlot Donut Shops

by mushroompone

Begin

The bell above the door sounded precisely like his magic.

There was no way Soarin could have known this, of course-- he hadn't met Sunburst yet, and even then it would be quite some time before he recognized the exact cadence and tone of his magic.

To Soarin, at the beginning of the summer, the bell was just a bell. Sunburst was just a customer. Donut Joe's was just a pit stop on the way to better things.

Soarin spared a small glance over his shoulder, casual and comfortable as always. "Anywhere you like!" he said. "Be right there!"

Sunburst wasn't listening. Those who knew him well would not have been surprised, but Soarin didn't know Sunburst at all.

The awkward teenaged unicorn side-stepped the door as it closed behind him with a sort of practiced grace, though it was the only thing remotely graceful about him. He was reading a book, as he always was, though the specifics of what book it was and what chapter he was on are lost to the golden softness of the past. All that matters is that it was big, it was dusty, and it made a heavy whap as he dropped it onto the table.

Soarin dropped another stack of dishes into his bin, then kicked the bin across the tiled floor with one twig-like back leg. Even this didn't get Sunburst's snout out of his book.

"Alright, what can I getcha?" Soarin asked. He somehow managed to hold a steady tone, even as he came to a screeching halt beside the booth.

Sunburst did not reply.

Soarin cleared his throat. "Uh… hello?" He leaned over to one side, resting his foreleg on the table and staring down at the young stallion before him. "You gonna order?"

Sunburst turned a page.

"Hey. Sunshine." Soarin put a hoof on the open page. "Food?"

"Oh!" Sunburst looked up.

There was a moment then, however brief, that felt different than the others.

A poet may have called it love at first sight, though the poet would have been wrong. A cynic would have called it infatuation, though that would have been wrong, as well.

Soarin would have called it a sunrise.

Sunburst may have compared it to the moment of silence as a wave crests, seconds before crashing onto the shore.

In other words, the beginning.

Sunburst quietly adjusted his glasses. "Right. I'll just have the usual."

"Cool, cool." Soarin nodded. "I'd love to know what that is, though."

Sunburst's brows furrowed ever so slightly.

"I'm new?" Soarin said, gesturing to himself broadly and graciously, as if the sight of him may jog Sunburst's memory.

"You are?"

Soarin blinked. "Yeah. I started a few days ago, dude," he explained.

"Oh." Sunburst stared blankly at his waiter.

"How do you go somewhere enough to have a usual, but have no idea who's serving you?" Soarin asked, more to himself than to Sunburst. "What's your usual?"

Sunburst blinked. "Huh." He scowled a little, dropping his gaze to the floor. "I don't remember."

"You--" Soarin spluttered a little, unsure of how to respond. "How do you not-- isn't it your usual?!"

"Well, sure," Sunburst said, resting his book on the table. "I haven't ordered it in a long time. It's just… the usual."

Soarin made a throaty squeak of disbelief. "But-- you've eaten it, haven't you?"

"Of course."

"So?" Soarin prompted, giving his customer a gentle punch on the shoulder.

Sunburst took the hit like a nudged bowling pin. "So what?"

"What did it taste like, Sunshine?" Soarin gave his customer another, much gentler shove.

"It's Sunburst," Sunburst corrected, brushing his scraggly mane out of his eyes. "And I don't remember. It's my usual."

Soarin paused.

Though it was early on a Sunday morning, it wasn't exactly bustling in Donut Joe's. There were a few ponies studying the paper alone, and one pair which seemed to be dining together on their way to work, but it was otherwise empty.

Soarin wondered privately if it was considered rude or unprofessional to sit with a customer.

He quickly realized he didn't care.

Soarin slid into the booth across from Sunburst. "I think you and I have different definitions of 'usual'."

Sunburst scowled at the unwelcome company and snapped his book shut. "Oh?" he asked, as if already weary with Soarin.

"The usual," Soarin explained, suddenly taking on the distinguished academic air that Sunburst had worked so hard to cultivate, "is what you order because it is just so outrageously fantastic that you can't even imagine eating something else. It's your favorite. Your number one recommendation. You don't just forget your usual."

"Maybe you don't," Sunburst said, folding his hooves over his book. "My usual is a comforting go-to. It fades into the rhythm of my day. It's simple, bland, and familiar."

Soarin laughed. "Just not that familiar, huh?"

Sunburst rolled his eyes. "Just bring me a bowl of oatmeal, would you?" He slowly reopened his book.

"No way, Sunshine." Soarin popped out of the booth and back onto his hooves. "I'm gonna bring you something worthy of usual status."

Sunburst sighed. "Really. I'd rather have the oatmeal."

"Was oatmeal your usual?" Soarin asked.

"Well…" Sunburst thought about that. It was certainly a baked good, he thought-- probably a muffin or a scone or something. "No, but--"

"Then you're not getting oatmeal." Soarin held his chin high, a superior grin curling his lips. "You're getting your new usual."

Sunburst set his jaw. "Fine. If you must."

"Oh, I must," Soarin said jovially, trotting off to compose a breakfast.

The golden light of the morning sun glimmered on the glass display case. While it managed to bathe the whole room in an orange light, it also washed out all sign of the treats inside.

Soarin put both hooves up on the counter and leaned forward, searching for the owner who most typically served such confections.

"Mr. Joe?" Soarin called.

"Figure it out, kid!" replied the gruff voice from the kitchen. "I'm fetlock-deep in bagel dough!"

Soarin glanced back at Sunburst, who was already reabsorbed in his book. Like the flick of a switch with that stallion.

He smiled a private, secret smile, and snuck behind the counter.

It was only a matter of time before he found his way back here, of course. Naturally, an employee of a donut shop would find himself serving donuts at one time or another. But Soarin was new, and he hadn't done this yet-- and thus it felt very special.

Here, behind the counter, the baked goods were closer than ever. Soarin was nothing if not a sweet tooth, and the treats in the case were more than tempting-- they were all but leaping out at him and straight down into his gullet.

Soarin used the wrist of one wing to slide the case open. If the sight of the goodies was enough to make his mouth water, the smell very nearly knocked him flat.

The sunlight was scattered by the glass, and sparkled atop each fluffy delight within. Donuts, crullers, cupcakes, muffins, popovers-- you name it, it was in here, and looking as neat as the cover of a magazine.

And, through the glass, Soarin spied on Sunburst.

Only for a moment. And only because he knew that Sunburst wouldn't look up. And only because he knew that, if he did tear his eyes away from that book, the glare of the sunlight would obscure him entirely.

The feeling was hard to explain.

It was like flying, but not. Flying was about competition. It was about pushing yourself and beating your wings as hard as you could and the air pulling tears from your eyes.

This… this was acceleration. This was weightlessness. This was a lungful of fresh air.

Soarin brushed his mane away from his face. The small touch broke him out of his trance.

Breakfast.

Not just breakfast-- the best breakfast.

In Soarin's opinion, just about anything in this case could qualify. There was a reason he had picked this place over the many, many others in Canterlot, after all.

Sunburst wouldn't like just anything. He'd like something mature. A scone. Or a muffin, maybe. Possibly a crossaint.

No. Definitely muffin.

Soarin closed this section of the case, then opened the next one over. As he bent down to examine its contents, he caught Sunburst peeking.

A little smile. Soarin must have been on the right track.

Something orange seemed like the obvious choice. Sunburst may as well have been a ray of morning sun himself, after all-- glowing from the inside out, wisps of yellow magic curling off his horn as he turned the page of his book.

That was a normal thing to think, wasn't it?

Most muffins were at least sort of orange. Or yellow-ish. But one stood out: cranberry-citrus, down on the bottom rack.

Okay, fine. They were cranberry-orange. Perhaps a little on-the-snout, but something told Soarin this was precisely the sort of thing Sunburst 'treated' himself to. If he treated himself to anything at all.

Soarin snatched out a cranberry-orange muffin, quietly admiring how well he'd matched Sunburst's hue.

He set it out on the counter for consideration.

It looked good. It looked right. It also looked rather lonely.

A usual needed more. It had to be unique, a particular combination that was truly personal, distinctive, one-of-a-kind!

Soarin rubbed his chin, carefully considering the muffin before him.

A drink!

Soarin spun to face the drink menu, written in neat chalk letters above a variety of complicated-looking machines. These things presumably made coffee, though Soarin thought they may have looked more at home in a chem lab.

Sunburst would most certainly like a hot drink. He seemed the type to want hot drinks year-round, even through the summer.

Coffee was out. Sunburst probably didn't like coffee, anyways.

There was one hot drink Soarin was perfectly capable of making: tea. Boil some water, stick a little bag in it-- boom. Classy drinks in only a moment.

Soarin quickly set a kettle rumbling away.

Beside the coffee machines was a series of drawers, all of them labelled with names that were most certainly not flavors: earl grey, constant comment, Bittish breakfast…

Soarin opened a drawer and sniffed. Sharp, strong, and bitter.

"Eugh," he commented softly, pushing the drawer shut again.

Sunburst looked up from his book, craning his neck to see what exactly his waiter was fussing over. The sight made him smile-- a personal, secretive smile.

Actually, the sight of anypony fussing over Sunburst at all was a strange one. It made him feel... well, it was hard to describe.

It felt a bit like magic, but not. Magic was careful, planned, intricate-- something that took work and effort and massive amounts of studying.

This was light. It was a sparkling, bubbly feeling, like a carbonated drink.

Sunburst felt his glasses slipping down his snout, and hastily pushed them back up. The smudges on the lenses were enough to bring him back to reality.

He looked back down at his book.

Soarin continued on his olfactory tour of the tea case, barely holding back his comments about the strong and unpleasant scents he found inside. He was nothing if not a sweet-tooth, after all, and this box had not a bit of sugar to offer him.

Never once did it cross Soarin's mind that it was an odd thing to do. Personally constructing a breakfast for a stranger, that is.

Just as his hope was fading, he happened upon a smell that reminded him of gingerbread. Or perhaps it was pie?

"Hm. Chai," he read off the drawer.

As if on cue, the kettle began to whistle. Soarin grabbed a tea bag out of the drawer and dropped it in the bottom of a cup, carefully pouring the boiling water over it.

It really did smell like dessert.

Proud of his work, Soarin arranged the muffin and tea on a tray. He considered it a moment, smiled, then lifted it carefully onto his back and made his way towards Sunburst’s table once more.

“Ta-da!” Soarin announced, his head held high. “I present your new usual.”

Sunburst watched as Soarin placed the muffin and the tea down in front of him. He seemed less interested in the food, however, and more in the way that Soarin moved to serve it. It was just one of those things unicorns did, to be fair-- yet this felt somehow different. Soarin found himself casting spare glances at Sunburst as worked, despite the simplicity of the task.

“Huh.” Sunburst sniffed at the steam rising from the tea. “It, uh… it smells good.”

“Tsk, you’ll love it.”

Again, without asking, Soarin slipped into the booth across from Sunburst.

Sunburst visibly deflated. “You’re not seriously going to watch me eat, are you?”

“I gotta know if I did good!” Soarin explained, drumming his hooves excitedly on the table. “C’mon, one bite?”

“Don’t you have things to do?” Sunburst asked, gesturing broadly to the restaurant. “Aren’t you… aren’t you new?”

Soarin shrugged. “Slow day.”

Sunburst looked out at the restaurant. He couldn’t exactly argue with Soarin, there-- this was probably the quietest diner Sunburst had ever been in.

Could you call this a diner?

Sunburst sighed, so short and so harsh that it may have been a nicker. “Fine.”

Soarin leaned across the table, ever so slightly, and watched as Sunburst unwrapped the paper from his muffin. He used his magic to pull off a small chunk and pop it into his mouth.

He chewed, considering the flavor without a peep. His eyes traced over the ceiling, across the shimmering display case, and then back onto Soarin’s face as he swallowed.

Soarin could hardly keep still. “So?”

“Hm.” Sunburst looked over at the tea cup. He lifted the bag out of the liquid and dropped it into his saucer. “You know, you’re supposed to take the bag out before you serve it.”

Soarin scowled. “That doesn’t sound right.”

“It is right,” Sunburst said.

He lifted the cup to his mouth and took a sip.

Soarin bit down on his lip. He watched Sunburst’s face for any sign of emotion or reaction-- each twitch of the brow, each turn of his lips. He hadn’t the slightest idea what any of it meant, really, but at least he was paying attention.

Sunburst set the cup down. “It’s alright.”

“Alright!” Soarin pumped a hoof in the air. “I knew you’d--”

“But it’s not my usual,” Sunburst finished.

Soarin collapsed back into the seat. “Duh. I never said it was.”

“Well, it isn’t my new usual, either,” Sunburst corrected.

“Aw, man…” Soarin folded his forelegs over his chest. “Really thought I had you there.”

Sunburst looked at Soarin. He looked at the way his mane stuck to the vinyl booth. He looked at the way his eyes scanned hungrily over the food on the table. He looked at the way his wings were drooped at his sides, the beauty and elegance of his feathers on full display.

Sunburst looked at Soarin, and he thought I can’t let this end so soon.

“It’s okay,” Sunburst said matter-of-factly. “I’ll be back tomorrow. You can try again.”

Soarin sat up a little. “Really?”

Sunburst shrugged. “I come here all the time. Might as well.”

“That’s great!” Soarin sat forward, placing both hooves on the table before him. “Oh, my gosh-- I already have an idea for tomorrow!”

Sunburst couldn’t help but laugh.

His laugh sounded precisely like the bell above the door, Soarin thought.

Soarin began to laugh along.

Comments

[Ice Star]

Wholesome gay stories like this are a rare treat, and basically medicine at this point.