• Published 1st Apr 2013
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Eakin's Rapid Fire Pony Fics - Eakin



A compilation of tiny random stories

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Friend-zoned at Bronycon

FRIENDZONED AT BRONYCON

“We’re here! I can’t believe we’re actually at Bronycon! I’m gonna buy a sketch, and meet the voice actors, and everyone from the forums and... and... Aaron, do you think one weekend will be enough? We have to do everything!”

I just smile. You’ve been talking about this for the entire train ride down, planning and replanning which talks, panels, and other events you absolutely have to attend. You’ve narrowed it down to a schedule that I’m not sure you realize calls for you to be in three places at the same time on Saturday afternoon. Now that we’ve actually arrived and checked into the hotel room we’ll be splitting you’ve gotten a second wind as you called the bed over by the window and dropped your bags down onto it. “Don’t worry, Justine. It’s gonna be a great weekend.” I don’t even care what we do. The weekend's main attraction for me is across the room, rambling on about plushies.

I only even started watching the damn show so I’d have an excuse to get closer to you, although I’ll admit that it grew on me once I gave it a chance. So now we’re away from work, friends and family for a weekend, sharing a hotel room. You’re giddy with excitement, and this is probably the best opportunity I’ll have all year to tell you that I’m madly in love with you.

And the fear is still holding me back.

“I wish it weren’t so hot, though. Baltimore in August, blech. I’m disgusting.” You’re radiant. You’re the most phenomenally beautiful creature on the planet. I have to tell you that. I cannot let this weekend go by without letting you know, or I think I might die. You grin. “I’d say it needs to be about twenty per-”

“Justine, I am going to hear that about a million times, or variations of it. It wasn’t that funny the first time."

You stick out your tongue. “Spoilsport. Where’s your Element of Laughter? Give me one second to throw on a pony T-shirt and we’ll go down and pick up our badges.” You pull a Doctor Whooves shirt out of your luggage and turn around and holy crap you’re taking off your top. I can see the straps of your bra and the line on the back of your neck where your skin changes from burned red to the cafe au lait color that haunts my dreams every night and tell you tell you now I’m going to tell you I love you and I need you and you’ll kiss me and we’ll never even make it down to the convention there’s so much more I want to explore about you and your body and I want to make you laugh and moan and-

“Yeah, I guess we should head down,” is what I say instead once your shirt is back on. You’re looking at me and I can tell that you can’t tell. You’re completely oblivious. How did I get so good at hiding this from you, and why couldn’t I be a little bit worse at it?

“Yep! Come on, the line looked like it was already getting long so we should grab a spot.” You impatiently push past me to get to the door, your body pressing against mine for just an instant before the fleeting contact is gone. You stop at the door and smile at me. “Hey, if you hit it off with some cute little pegasister, hang a sock on the doorknob or something. Although judging by what I saw of the crowd down there I think my odds are better than yours.” I don’t want ‘some pegasister,’ and the one I do want is impossibly close and impossibly far away at the same time.

Rather than saying so, I step into the hallway and follow you towards the front desk, and anywhere else you ask me to go. Maybe something will change over this weekend. There’ll be one perfect moment and the heavens will part and you’ll realize that I’ve loved you all this time.

Or more likely, we’ll come back from this convention with exactly the relationship we arrived with because I’m a coward.

Author's Note:

Having been both the 'Aaron' and the 'Justine' in this situation at various points in my life, I know firsthand how much it sucks. If this is you, then stop waiting! Pony up and kiss them!

Unless they're in a relationship already, then you're screwed. Or rather, not screwed when you want to be.

Ain't love grand?