> Ponyville University
>  by SleeplessBrony
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Towels
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

                                                                     



"Got you good, egghead!"

Twilight Sparkle gasps and jumps, feeling her hands dart on their own to to cover her bottom. The sharp crack of the wet towel is long over, but the sting lingers - it hurts, throbbing in one tiny spot on the tender lower curve of her left cheek.

She turns around, self-consciously pulling at the lower hem of her towel, trying to cover herself. Of course, there isn't much extra, and her hands fight a brief battle, one pulling at the top of the towel over her breasts, the other fighting for more coverage down below.

Her attacker is just a few feet away, nonchalantly rummaging around in a locker. She's already wrapped herself up in her weapon, a light blue thing with a rainbow lightning bolt stretching down her side.

Twilight narrows her eyes. She knows Rainbow Dash, of course, has seen her around here and there. They even have a class together, although Twilight can only ever remember groaning whenever the older girl said anything.

She stares and then glares. Rainbow Dash is smiling, not looking over a bit, as if nothing had happened at all.

Who does she think she is?

A stupid, arrogant jock is what she is. Always dozing off and turning in her assignments late.

That's right, I saw. I heard how disrespectful you were to Professor Celestia, you dumb basketball player. Think you're so great with your muscles and your tan and your...

Does she even play basketball? Twilight wonders, trying to remember.

Running? Swimming?

Whatever primitive pastime it is, irrelevant. Twilight's eyes slide up and down the light blue towel, pulled tightly over the other girl's sleek body.

Didn't she seem nice, though? She seemed nice at the...

Irrelevant! Strangely, Twilight gets angry, fanned on by the stinging on her rump. She keeps glaring, watching Rainbow Dash shake her hair out - beautiful, breathtakingly gorgeous rainbow hair, still wet from the shower.

Twilight breathes hard, flaring her nostrils. She's had enough, whatever it is, something inside her has been pushed to the breaking point and she can't take anymore.

She glances around. It's just the two of them, alone in the large, steamy locker room. Rainbow Dash is still digging around in a locker, completely oblivious.

Twilight scrunches her nose up, pouting her lips in an angry glare that she would be furious to hear was cute. She whips her towel off, coiling it into a wet whip like she's seen other people do. She snaps it out, amazing herself with her accuracy.

The end of it snaps against Rainbow Dash's tight butt with a loud CRACK that echoes through the gym's locker room. Rainbow Dash jumps in place, yelping girlishly.

"Got you better, jocktard!" Twilight cries in triumph, grinning most unlike herself.

Rainbow Dash rubs at her backside - Twilight can see an angry red spot, blotted on a bit of firm cheek peeking out from the bottom of her towel. The athlete slowly turns to Twilight, still rubbing.

"Ow," she says. "Ow!" she says again, a huge smile growing on her face.

"Uh..." Twilight backs up a step.

Sorry?

She's suddenly very aware of how naked she is, and she holds her towel up as if to hide behind it.

"Heh," Rainbow Dash grins at her, unfurling her towel and shaking it out.

Twilight blushes - her eyes had jumped on their own to the other girl's small, almost flat breasts, catching a glimpse of perky nipples before glancing away in embarrassment.

"So, you wanna play, huh?" Rainbow Dash says, cocking an eyebrow.

"No, I just -"

"Oh, you're gonna get it, nerd." Rainbow Dash holds her towel up, stretching it between her hands and rolling it up tight.

"Wait a second!" Twilight holds her hands out.

"Nope!"

"Aah!" Twilight gives in to baser instincts and runs as the other girl darts forward, whipping her towel against empty air. She runs blindly, clambering over benches and leading Rainbow Dash in a short, silly chase around the locker room.

"Go ahead, run outside!" Rainbow says, laughing. Twilight has cornered herself near the door, there's nowhere to run, and only her towel to hide behind. She shifts her weight back and forth, then fakes towards Rainbow Dash's left.

Dash takes the bait, flailing her towel out as Twilight sprints past her other side.

"Nice moves!" Rainbow Dash yells, still chasing. "Look at that perky little nerd butt go!"

Twilight's run is cut short - there's only so much locker room to run to. She goes to jump over a bench, and her heart stops as her feet slip on the wet tiles. She dances on nothing for a moment, sure that she's about to fall and hurt herself in the stupidest way possible -

But she stops instead, landing in strong, slender arms.

"Whoa there," Rainbow says. "You alright?"

"Uh-huh," Twilight nods, breathing heavily. "Thanks."

Her feet find the ground, and they look at each other as Twilight catches her breath. Catching her breath is what she is doing, most certainly. Certainly not staring at Rainbow Dash's bright pink eyes.

Rainbow Dash grins at her, her teeth bright against the dark tan of her skin. Then, almost quicker than sight, she raises her arm and whips her towel, letting the end of it wrap around and caress both sides of Twilight's pale rear.

"Ow! Hey!" Twilight fumes, unsure what to do at first. Then she raises her arm to return fire...

Rainbow Dash grabs her wrist, smiling the whole time. Twilight grunts and pushes, then pulls - not an inch of give. Dash is a few inches shorter than her, and definitely smaller, but she's strong.

Rainbow Dash raises her other arm, and Twilight copies her, grabbing her wrist with her free hand. Rainbow twists her arm around, escaping easily - it's like trying to hold on to a steely, smooth snake. The blue towel whips through the air and stings again, this time higher up on Twilight's butt, leaving a welt near her lower back.

"Darn it!" Twilight whines. She grapples back and forth with the shorter girl, furiously, wanting nothing more than to hear something give a nice, sharp slap to that toned little ass of hers.

Instead, she slips again, almost falling. Rainbow Dash holds her up, but Twilight slides into a turn, ending up with her back to the athlete. Her arms are still confined, held in front of her by Rainbow Dash's small, dark hands.

"Thanks," Twilight pants out. "Again."

"No problem." Rainbow Dash jerks her arms back, pulling Twilight's shoulders as her wrists are pinned behind her. Twilight feels Rainbow Dash grip both her wrists in one hand, leaving her helpless. She drops the towel, feeling a giddy lightness in her chest as her panting grows heavier.

Twilight darts her eyes around, feeling a bead of sweat down her temple as she waits for the towel to snap up and ravage her defenseless body. She waits, and watches, and waits. Rainbow Dash raises her arm...

There's no towel. Instead, Rainbow Dash slips her arm around Twilight's front, pulling a gasp from Twilight as her hand brushes up her belly. Then she cups Twilight's breast, squeezing a little more than gently.

"R - Rainbow DASH!" Twilight gasps, just a little panicked.

"Shh! Somebody'll hear us!"

Twilight's mouth hangs open, tingling shooting through her chest as Rainbow Dash caresses the soft flesh of her breast. She pulls at her arms, tugging against Dash's grip, but nothing gives.

"What are you...?!" She turns her head, and is instantly silenced by a mouth against her own. Rainbow Dash shoves her tongue against Twilight's immediately, taking no prisoners. Twilight's whole body shakes, melting against her.

My... my first kiss?

No! Nobody's supposed to know that!

Oh my good goodness ohhhhhhhhhhhh...

Twilight moans loudly, her eyes close on their own. She can feel Rainbow Dash standing on her tiptoes, straining to keep their mouths together even as she massages Twilight's breast with a firm hand.

The kiss breaks. Dash immediately goes lower, kissing along Twilight's neck and shoulder. Twilight lets out a deeply embarrassing squeal at how good it feels, feeling those hot, firm lips running along her skin. And her hand, her lovely, strong hand, massaging her breast now, playing her thumb over Twilight's rapidly-hardening nipple.

This is... I don't even really know her!

Twilight grunts as a shiver of pleasure trembles through her chest, sending her eyes rolling back.

This is college! This is what you've been waiting for, isn't it?

Twilight forgets to think more as she squirms and moans and squirms some more, feeling her knees bend in against themselves. "Ohhhhh..."

"Quiet! Come on, man." Rainbow Dash gives her breast a strong squeeze, then pinches her nipple.

"Eeee!" Twilight squeals quietly, gritting her teeth. She tugs with her arms again. "Can I...?"

"Oh, yeah. Jeez, sorry." Rainbow Dash releases her hands, sliding her fingers up Twilight's hip instead. Twilight's hands shake and tremble, not sure what to do. Her right shoots out on its own, grabbing onto the top of an open locker door. Her left lays softly over Rainbow's hand, resting at the top of her hip.

Rainbow Dash presses her body against Twilight, gently ramming her hips against Twilight's pale ass. Twilight can feel her firm, sweaty body sliding against her, her nipples hard, hot little rocks jabbing into her.

"Mmmm," Rainbow Dash bites her, gently, right at the spot where neck meets shoulder.

"Mmmm!" Twilight's left hand shoots up to cover her mouth, to quiet herself.

Rainbow Dash switches breasts, pinching and pulling and rubbing at Twilight's other side. It's glorious, perfect, every tiny movement exactly what she's been craving. She starts to moan again but cuts herself off with a gasp.

Dash's other hand slides down, past her hip. It drifts across her lower belly, causing trembling, silent giggles, then pulls another gasp as fingers grasp at the coarse, purple thatch of hair below.

Twilight's knees go weak, her right hand swings the locker door back and forth as she shakes in Dash's arms. Rainbow plays her fingers through the hair, trimmed short more for hygiene than anything else. Nobody but Twilight herself has ever ventured down there.

Twilight pants against her own hand, close to hyperventilating. She stares down at that naughty hand, teasing and tickling its way through the bush between her legs, taking its time. She's dying of thirst, been thirsty for years now, and that hand is a cup of cool, clean water.

"Do it," Twilight mutters against her own fingers.

"What?"

"Go! Go, do it!" Twilight gasps.

"Yeah?" Rainbow Dash pulls at the hair, making every muscle in Twilight's hips clench.

"Oh god yes PLEASE!" Twilight grunts. She feels Dash's smile against her shoulder, that awful, sexy, arrogant grin.

And then Rainbow Dash slides a rough finger inside her.

"OH!" Twilight shoots her hand back, yanking a handful of thin, wiry multi-colored hair. Her other hand clenches on the cold metal of the locker, her knuckles turning white.

Rainbow Dash gives a low chuckle, working her with reckless abandon. She presses deep and hard with her middle finger, sliding easily through Twilight's drenched tunnel.

"AH! Hnnn... ah!" Twilight gasps loudly, pulling at Rainbow Dash's hair, that lovely, lovely hair.

"Jeez, Twilight." Dash gives one last pinch at Twilight's breast, then slides her hand up to cover Twilight's mouth. "Aright, I gotcha. Let's go nuts."

She slips her ring finger in as well, driving it deep into Twilight.

"MMMMM!" Twilight wails, muffled and loving it. She bucks her hips back and forth gently, straining against Rainbow Dash's hand.

"Damn... you are crazy wet!" Rainbow Dash nibbles on Twilight's neck, driving her fingers in and out and in again, picking up speed.

"MMM! MMM!" Twilight's body writhes and jerks, sliding against Rainbow Dash, hot skin gliding together.

Rainbow Dash keeps working her, not even bothering with any gentle caressing anymore, just brutally thrusting with her fingers, curling the tips against the front of Twilight's insides with each stroke.

"MMM! MMM! MmmmmmmmmmMMM!" Twilight's knees give out, falling in Rainbow Dash's arms but being held up again, over and over, her feet slide side to side on the tiles, every move she makes seems to put more pressure on those two fingers sliding in and out of her and it feels so good too good it's too much and then -

She gasps and shakes and chokes, shaking against Dash's arms, straining at them as she comes. She feels herself clench against those fingers, those lovely, agile fingers, squeezing and pulling at them and clamping around them.

"Okay, okay. I gotcha." Rainbow Dash holds her up, finally leaving her fingers still. She waits for Twilight's quivering to ease off a bit, then slides her fingers out, wiping them off in the thin, curly hairs just above.

Twilight leans back into Rainbow Dash, letting her arms fall limp. Her loud, gasping breaths slow down, her eyes slowly come back into focus, staring up at the grimey fluorescent lights above.

"Aright, alright. Here you go," Rainbow Dash whispers, sinking her weight down. She gingerly sets Twilight down on a bench, holding her up by the shoulders.

Twilight sits, still lost in a haze. She groggily looks up into those pink eyes.

"Not bad, egghead," Rainbow Dash says. She leans down, resting a hand on Twilight's pale knee, and gives her a kiss on the cheek. "Kinda quick, though. Been a while?"

"Unh," Twilight nods and grunts, not quite living in reality yet.

"Yeah, I thought so. But, you know... kinda what happens when you roll with me." She walks back to her locker, taking her towel with her. Twilight watches, her eyes lazily following that prism of hair, then falling down to her pert little ass and toned, slender legs.

She watches as Rainbow gets dressed, just sitting there naked, still feeling warm waves of bliss roll all through her body. Strangely, her toes are tingling, and she curls them against the warm tiles, feeling the tingles intensify.

Rainbow Dash zips up a light blue track jacket and hefts a battered old gym bag, tossing her hair out over her back. "You probably wanna shower off again," she says, barely looking over. She pulls her hair back into a clumsy ponytail as she walks over, and gives Twilight a teasing little peck on the forehead.

"...thanks?" Twilight mutters.

"Thank you," Dash says. "I'll see you around."

And then she leaves. She just walks out, giving one last saucy glance back. Twilight sits, still naked, her damp towel bunched up on the floor. She stares at nothing for a long minute, pressing her fingertips into her own thighs, her own pale, lonely thighs, just sitting there. She purses her lips and lets out a deep breath, blowing quietly.

She flexes her fingers, stretching them out. It's different - she feels warm, relaxed, alive. She never in a thousand years ever imagined her first time would be anything so sordid, so strange, so naughty, so...

Completely AMAZING.

She takes another deep breath, savoring it. The bench feels cold against her butt now, and she shivers, half in pleasure and half in - whatever it could be. Something. She remembers to try and remember, to memorize every detail, to store it away for all the lonely nights she's used to when she -

Wait... wait! Wait a minute!

She jumps up, scrambling to put her clothes on.

Walked away. Walked away?! Who does she think she is?!

She hasn't had enough, whatever it is, something inside her is pushing for more, and she can't stand to not go after it.

I'm gonna get you, you beautiful dumb jocktard.

She rushes out, her clothes barely together, her hair a tousled mess. She forgets her towel there on the floor.

> Bedsheets
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

                                                                     



"Hey!"

Twilight Sparkle yells it out towards the parking lot. She thought she yelled it, anyway - Rainbow Dash doesn't even stop, her back still turned as she walks away.

"Hey!" she yells again, louder. This time the older girl stops and turns around, blinking in surprise.

"Hey?" Rainbow Dash says. She's stopped right under a streetlamp, alone in a spotlight in the dark, mostly-empty parking lot.

Twilight walks up to her, crunching her way through the dead leaves drifting up against the curb. She looks around as she does so - there aren't any other people around. No, scratch that, there's a guy walking out to his car. Far enough away.

"What's up?" Rainbow Dash says as soon as Twilight is close.

How can she be so... casual? After what we just did?

Twilight scrunches her nose up, just on the edge of glaring. Rainbow Dash is standing, just standing there, her usual cool self, her torn-up gym bag swinging lazily from one shoulder. A few seconds pass before Twilight realizes she's forgotten to actually say anything.

"What's up, egghead?" Rainbow Dash says impatiently.

"My name is Twilight."

"I know," Dash says matter-of-factly.

"Where do you think you're going?" Twilight blurts out.

"Huh?" Rainbow Dash blinks a few more times. "Back to my room. Why?"

"You're just going to leave?" Twilight asks, now full-on glaring.

Rainbow Dash's face slides out of haughty jock coolness for a second. "Well... yeah?" she says cautiously.

"You're unbelievable!" Twilight huffily crosses her arms, sticking her nose up in the air. "How could you just leave after what you did?"

"What I did?" Rainbow Dash cocks an eyebrow, and then a shadow of panicked doubt crosses her face. "Whoa, you didn't, like... you're not freaked out, or anything, right?"

"No!" Twilight says, not sure if she's pretending to be offended.

But I'm angry?

She's not, really. Whatever fire was inside her flickers out in a gust of embarrassment as she realizes exactly what she wants. She grips the straps of her backpack tightly, looking down like a scolded child.

"So what's up?" Rainbow Dash says.

"Um..." Twilight fidgets uncomfortably, staring down at her shoes. She barely glances up. "I liked it," she says quietly.

She hears, rather than sees, Rainbow Dash's cocky grin.

"Heh, yeah," Dash relaxes, lazily swinging her bag around. "Yeah, I liked it, too."

A long, silent moment passes. Not silent, not really - the sound of dying traffic drifts over them, winding down as the night grows older.

Twilight fights the urge to chew her lip, feeling every bit the nerd she is in her stupid mom-jeans and her dorky sweater vest. She dares to glance up at Rainbow Dash, all cool, effortless style. Twilight wonders what the hell she thinks she's even doing here, now, with one of the cool kids.

Stop it stop it this isn't high school just...

"Sooooo...?" Rainbow Dash stops swinging her bag around, letting it hang over one shoulder again.

Twilight glances around. She's never been out here at the front entrance of the gym. She usually goes in the back entrance, away from the parking lot.

God, is she gonna make me beg?

"Are you... busy, or... doing anything... now?" Twilight asks.

Rainbow Dash cocks one awful eyebrow, then nods knowingly. A grin slowly grows on her face, her small, even teeth gradually coming into view.

"You wanna come back to my place," Rainbow Dash says.

"Sure." Twilight stands up straight as she says it, pretending with all her might that Rainbow Dash had asked her a question.

"Alright. Let's go."

Twilight lets out a breath she had no idea she was holding. Dash keeps walking the way she was going. Towards the edge of the parking lot. Away from campus.

"So... you live in one of the dorms, right?" Twilight asks, still grasping her backpack straps for comfort.

Rainbow Dash ignores her. She keeps walking, up to...

Motorcycle? No, no no no those are DANGEROUS I have read ALL those statistics...

Twilight cringes at the sight of it - she knows very little about the vehicles, couldn't begin to tell you what make or model it is. It looks to her like some kind of dirt bike, almost as beaten and worn down as the gym bag Rainbow Dash is strapping tight over her shoulder.

"Well?" Rainbow Dash looks back at her. "What, are you gonna meet me there?"

Twilight slowly walks up to the donor-cycle - she imagines herself making a loud gulp, just like in cartoons.

"Here." Rainbow Dash hands her a helmet. It's heavier than Twilight expected, sky blue with yellow lightning bolts running up the sides. She puts it on, slowly, solemnly dressing up for her own funeral. It crushes her hair in funny ways, suffocating her with the sour smell of old sweat.

Dash is already straddling the bike, and it shudders to life under her. Twilight had been expecting a primal roar, like a gang of choppers cruising by. What she hears instead is high-pitched, flighty, and just a little sickly, turning over with an uneven rhythm.

"Come on, girl!" Dash kicks at the bike's side a few times, producing no effect whatsoever. She turns to Twilight, her prismatic ponytail whipping around as she nods towards the empty bit of seat behind her.

Only one helmet?

Twilight climbs aboard, gingerly resting her hands on Rainbow's hips. Delightful, naughty vibrations jitter into from the engine straight up her thighs. She instantly, if grudgingly, sees at least one good reason to ride a motorcycle.

Her thighs clench instinctively, and her fingers follow suit, digging into the smooth fake fabric of Dash's track jacket. Twilight rolls her eyes.

Do NOT cling to her like this is some kind of movie, just sit.

"Ready?" Dash glances back at her, revving the bike a few times.

Twilight nods.

And then the bike takes off at approximately the speed of sound.

Twilight's heart skips a few dozen feet into the air, and she instantly wraps her arms tight around her driver. It had felt, really felt, like she was going to go flying off the back of the bike. She clings desperately to Rainbow Dash, crushing her gym bag between them. Her backpack pulls at her, treacherously threatening to fling her off to a grisly death.

Rainbow Dash swoops and practically dives, tearing out of the parking lot and onto the road with barely a pause to change gears. She drives like a maniac, her long hair trailing out behind her, blinding Twilight with color. The bike banks around every corner, jumps over every tiny bump and dip, flies along at millions and millions of miles per second.

Rainbow Dash says something over her shoulder. Between the wind and the helmet, Twilight has no idea what it was.

"Lean with me!" Rainbow Dash says again.

"WHAT?" Twilight screams.

"On the corners! Lean!"

"WHAT?"

Rainbow Dash shakes her head and thankfully turns her eyes back to the road. Twilight buries her helmet-encased head against Rainbow Dash, shamefully closing her eyes. She leans with her, alright, leans like a plank of wood duct-taped to a slinky.

And then, thankfully, the bike starts slowing down.

Twilight creaks her eyes open. They're in another parking lot, smooth, fresh pavement and bright white lines. She vaguely recognizes it from her tour months ago - one of the new dorms up on the hill.

The bike coasts up against a curb and stops.

Twilight frowns, impatiently tugging the helmet off her head and awkwardly climbing off the bike. She knows these dorms, a little. They're barely a few minutes' walk from the gym - taking the road actually requires you to loop around, skirting the edge of all the athletic fields.

"There!" Rainbow Dash dismounts gracefully. "Not so bad, huh?"

Twilight's frown stays. Her thighs and butt are a little numb, tingling, vaguely sore. her heart is still pounding.

That was SO. MUCH. FUN.

She doesn't show a bit of it. She brusquely hands the helmet back.

"No?" Rainbow Dash looks vaguely impressed, somehow. "Alright, no worries. I'll make it up to you," she says with a hungry wink.

That isn't so bad. Twilight feels light, like she's flying off the back of the bike again, giddy anticipation welling in her chest. She starts to follow Rainbow Dash inside.

"Hey, wait," she says instead.

"Huh?" Rainbow Dash stops in her tracks.

"You can't park there."

They both stare at the bike for a full second. Indeed, it's resting on its kickstand in a triangle of white paint at the end of a row of cars, with the words NO PARKING stenciled all over the pavement.

"You're kidding, right?" Rainbow Dash says. "It's a bike, nobody cares."

"It says no parking," Twilight says.

Rainbow Dash stares back at her, waiting for her to laugh and smile, to say, "Just kidding." Twilight stubbornly holds her ground.

Dash raises her eyebrows.

Are you for real?

Twilight raises her own.

It says. No. Parking.

"Okay, okay," Dash says, chuckling, like she's gonna let Twilight have this one. She goes back to the bike and rolls it down the pavement a bit, pushing it like it's far heavier than it looks.

Twilight nods, watching with no small satisfaction. Rainbow Dash's jeans are pretty tight, after all. The fabric curves around her butt in interesting ways as she pushes the bike past Twilight, parking it in a spot meant for a car.

"You better be, like, crazy good once we get naked again," Rainbow Dash says.

Twilight blushes against her will, following Rainbow Dash wordlessly into the dorm. It's so much different from her own - the entrance is bright and clean, the walls full panes of glass. Dash pushes the button for an elevator - an elevator! In a dorm! What mad luxuries!

They wait, both looking around for something other than each other to look at. Muffled music drifts from a common room around the corner, the tinny din of over-loud songs blaring through headphones.

The elevator comes. They get in. Just the two of them.

Twilight takes great interest in the walls, doors, and lights before a searching set of fingers pry their way into the waistband of her jeans.

She gasps loudly. Rainbow Dash isn't even looking, just nonchalantly slipping a pair of fingers under the elastic of Twilight's panties. Like her hand is acting on its own.

"Hey!" Twilight says quietly, her body frozen.

"What are you so worried about?" Rainbow Dash is close to her in an instant, her hot breath tickling against Twilight's neck. Her fingers slide back, playing along the top of Twilight's cheeks. "Nobody's gonna see us."

"I..." Twilight has no idea what she was going to say. Rainbow Dash kisses her neck, straining to get around her backpack. Her fingers hook into Twilight's underwear and pull, yanking the fabric deliciously tight against her crotch.

Twilight closes her eyes and sighs loudly.

DING

The elevator doors open, and Twilight's eyes snap open with them. There are no crowds with cameras - her parents aren't somehow waiting for them. It's just an empty hallway, leading past a lounge that Twilight would be jealous of if she did anything but hide in her room and/or the library.

Rainbow Dash walks out. Twilight breathlessly stands still, feeling every sodden inch of her panties pulled tight around the excited little hill between her legs.

The elevator doors start to close.

She jumps in the way, then follows behind Dash.

Rainbow Dash stops at room 304, giving a cursory knock and opening the door in almost a single motion.

"I'm home!" she says loudly.

Twilight follows her in, and

SMELL oh my - WHAT is THAT?

It smells like a barn. Or a zoo.

It's a small room - still a dorm room, of course. It's oddly familiar, all the furniture the same as every other dorm room. But the first thing Twilight notices is a third person in the room, crouched next to a bed. She barely catches a glimpse of turquoise eyes, hiding behind a long set of light pink bangs.

"Sorry, ‘Shy," Dash says. "I need the room for a bit."

Twilight stands awkwardly, just inside the door, trying not to stare as "Shy" mumbles some silent apologies and grabs a few things. Twilight tries to catch the girl's eye, to apologize or something, to absolutely no avail.

Appropriately named much?

Dash's roommate quickly collects a few books and throws a blanket over her shoulders, making for the door. She halts and turns in place a few times, clearly stuck on some crucial decision.

"Some time tonight?" Rainbow Dash says.

"Sorry! Sorry," Shy squeaks. She crouches down next to her bed again, reaching into... is that a cage?

"Come along now, Angel," the pink-haired girl says.

Twilight sees something small and white and furry cradled in the girl's arms, tucked in along with the books. She shuffles past Twilight, still whispering polite apologies. This time Twilight does catch a bit of her eye - it's unsettling to see someone looking at her with such terror.

And then she's gone, closing the door behind her.

Dash throws her bag to the floor, in among a mess of laundry and paper and shoes. "Here, lemme take that." She ceremoniously takes Twilight's backpack and throws that on the floor, too.

Twilight lets her hands wrestle with each other, then wills them to be still. Rainbow Dash has her back to Twilight, rummaging around on a dresser at the end of the room. One of the beds is raised up, a bunk bed with no bottom, up on stilts. Instead of a mattress underneath, there's a mess of a desk, tucked in a cave.

Twilight immediately ignores this as Dash takes her jacket off, her tanned arms and shoulders standing out against her white tank top. She drops the jacket on the floor, too.

"So... um..." Twilight mutters, her eyes following helplessly as Dash takes her ponytail out, whipping her colorful hair around.

"I thought... maybe... we could..." Twilight wanders with her words, not thinking at all. All she can really think about is watching Dash stretch, watching the ripples of her back muscles through her tank top, the subtle flexing of her ass through her jeans. Rainbow Dash crudely scratches at the side of her butt, like something a guy would do, and even that does nothing but turn Twilight on more.

She turns around and stalks right towards Twilight, grinning, like she's got her cornered.

"I mean... what did you want to...?" Twilight backs away a little as Dash gets nearer.

And then Rainbow Dash kisses her.

It happens so suddenly, like there was nothing in the world before this. Twilight squeaks a little as their lips meet, Rainbow Dash pressing up against her, gently resting her hands on Twilight's hips. Dash slips her tongue in lovingly, far different from before, sliding it in with a polite little twirl around Twilight's lips.

Twilight holds her hands up tentatively, not sure where to put them. She feels herself being pushed, leaned, gently backing up against something behind her. A wardrobe, maybe. Dash stretches the kiss out, slowly, gradually squeezing tighter with her hands, pressing their hips together with a tender need that makes Twilight's arousal from before feel like nothing.

Twilight groans and kisses her back, seamlessly. Her hands venture out on their own and run up the cheap cotton of Dash's tank top, playing up her sides. Rainbow Dash responds by sliding a hand up Twilight's back, under the vest, under the shirt, cold, skinny fingers trailing up the slender curve of her spine.

"Mmm!" Twilight moans into the other girl's mouth, wondering how in the world she never did anything like this until today. She feels Rainbow Dash smile, and then the shorter girl bites her lower lip, chewing it around her grin.

"MmmmMMM!" Twilight's hands grow bold - one shoots up into Dash's lovely hair, the other shoots down to squeeze at the nimble curve of her backside.

Rainbow Dash grunts, standing on tiptoe to explore Twilight's mouth. She slides a hand down to the front of Twilight's waist, fumbling at the button of her jeans.

The kiss continues, still the same kiss but being reborn every second as a new dirty pleasure. Twilight moans and clenches her fingers, dying for Dash to take her pants off, to set her free.

She keeps fumbling. Twilight's pants stay where they are. The kiss breaks.

"...Darn it." Rainbow Dash looks down in frustration.

"Here," Twilight says through heavy breaths. She quickly undoes the button and yanks the zipper down, opening the front to either side. A bright white triangle of underwear peeks out, twinkling with little purple stars.

Rainbow Dash pulls them right back into a kiss, attacking with her mouth as she slides a strong hand down the open front of Twilight's pants. Twilight moans in relief as her fingers find home, sliding along the damp panties, nestling themselves between the flushed lips of her sex. Only a thin, wet film of cotton stands between them.

"Wow," Rainbow Dash mutters. "Bed."

"Bed?" Twilight says breathlessly.

"Bed."

They break their embrace. Twilight hurriedly climbs to the top of the bunk bed, awkwardly tearing her shoes off as she clambers her way up. She feels and hears the other girl climbing up after her, and Twilight feels trapped for a second there on the narrow mattress. It's strange, being so close to the ceiling like this.

And then Dash pounces on her, pinning Twilight on her back beneath an assault of kissing and groping and nibbling.

"Ah!" Twilight calls out, her thighs clenching together as Dash squeezes at both her breasts, pinching her nipples through her clothes. Twilight forces herself to let go of the sheets and dig her fingers into her lover instead, clawing at her back, bunching the thin material of Dash's tank top up in her fingers.

Dash sits up, almost bumping her head on the ceiling. She yanks at the legs of Twilight's jeans, but they barely move. Twilight lifts her hips, and they come off smoothly - fresh air sends shivers through her thighs and cools the furnace between them. She feels strangely, very, exposed - something about her shirt and vest still being on makes her naked legs feel wrong.

She doesn't have time to dwell on it. Dash tears her socks off and runs her tongue up Twilight's calf, holding her leg up with one hand. Her other hand tears Twilight's underwear down her legs, rolling it up as it slides down her thighs.

Twilight gasps loudly, her mouth moving wordlessly as her heart pounds at the mere thought of what's coming. Rainbow Dash slides back up her legs, one hand running up each side, leaving Twilight's panties stuck around her ankles. She leans down, brushing her lips up the inside of Twilight's thigh, working her hands around to gently cup Twilight's rear, holding her up.

"AH!" Twilight slams her hands back into the sheets, gulping for air - Rainbow Dash is nestling her lips right up between her legs, smiling, breathing hot air right onto Twilight's rapidly blooming flower. Twilight just stares, almost terrified, her pupils tiny pinpricks as Rainbow Dash looks her right in the eye. They look into each other, teetering on the edge of a moment.

And then Twilight feels something wet and firm stab into her.

"Ah! Wait!" she whines instantly, crushing Dash's head between her thighs and scooting back on the bed. It's too much, too fast - her sharp pink eyes, her agile tongue, the tickle of her nose brushing through coarse purple hair, right there on top of her, in her already, making any other pleasure seem non-existent.

"Huh?" Rainbow Dash squirms her way out from between Twilight's legs, grunting. She lowers Twilight's hips, letting them rest back on the mattress.

"Sorry, I..." Twilight trails off, feeling more naked than ever. She covers herself with her hands, not sure why she's doing it.

Rainbow Dash doesn't look surprised for very long. "This is your first time with a girl, huh?" she says.

"This is my first time ever," Twilight says. "I mean... not counting earlier."

"Whoa!" Rainbow Dash looks, of all things, apologetic. "Whoa, really?"

Twilight bites her lip, still panting lightly, aching for the same touch that just spooked her so much. She nods.

"Oh man. Wow." Rainbow Dash chuckles dryly, shaking her head and resting her cheek on one of Twilight's pale, slender legs.

"No, I didn't say anything," Twilight says, just shy of begging for forgiveness.

"Hey, no, I didn't ask."

Twilight feels Rainbow Dash's hand slide up, grasping her own, making her breath hitch as it brushes against her sensitive, needy mound. But that's all it does - Dash just stays there, holding her hand.

Twilight catches her breath. She feels silly now, impatient, wondering why she isn't letting herself be brought to moaning, quivering nothingness already.

"We don't have to..." Rainbow Dash starts to say.

"No! No, I want you to," Twilight squeezes the other girl's hand, hard.

"You sure?"

"Yes!" Twilight nods, much more energetically. "I don't know, I got freaked out for a second there." She stares at Rainbow's hand, small and tanned and firm, just grasping her own. "I'm okay now."

Rainbow Dash grins, easily, planting a gentle kiss on Twilight's fingers. "Well let's at least do it right, then."

Twilight has no idea what she means. It doesn't matter. Rainbow Dash shows her.

They peel each other's clothes off, slowly, taking all the time in the world. Rainbow Dash goes first, sliding Twilight's vest over her head. Then she unbuttons her shirt, not bothering with all of them before sliding that over her head, too. Twilight goes along, passive and fawning, moving her arms up and down and up at the slightest push. Dash slides the straps of her bra down her shoulders and drags the dark purple garment down her ribs, leaving it on just under Twilight's modest, round breasts.

Then Rainbow Dash takes her by the wrists, guiding Twilight's hands over a foreign body. She pulls Rainbow's tank top off, and then a troublesome sports bra, and then her ragged jeans, dropping the clothes one by one over the side of the bed, adding to the pile on the floor.

Twilight's hands tremble as they're led down. She barely sees Dash's underwear, will never know what it looked like or remember what it felt like coming off. All she can think about is the feel of Dash's firm legs, carved out of tanned wood, her smoky, half-lidded eyes never leaving Twilight's own.

Rainbow Dash kisses her then, wraps her up in her arms and kisses her, forcing Twilight's eyes shut and her breath to hold. She feels Dash roll to the side, taking Twilight with her, the two of them lying together as equals.

The kiss lingers, fading and rising and rising some more, no groping or grasping to distract them. Just lips moving together, their bodies pressed skin-to-skin. Twilight feels her breasts squished against Rainbow, flattened against the perky, shallow swells of the athlete's chest.

The kiss breaks, and they nuzzle together instantly, breathing into each other's ears. Rainbow guides her hand again, smoothly placing it between her legs. Twilight blushes again - her fingers slide up against warm, smooth lips, freshly-shaved.

She must be a swimmer, then.

The thought comes out of nowhere, and Twilight finds herself with a sudden case of the giggles.

"What?" Rainbow Dash leans back, grinning. "My snatch is funny to you?"

"No, no, I..." Twilight's giggles stop abruptly, cut off completely as Rainbow Dash pushes down on Twilight's hand with her own, forcing a finger to nestle between the giggle-causing lips. Twilight curls her finger instantly, instinctively, teasing it around the entrance, marveling at how wet and tight and hot it feels.

Rainbow Dash grunts, a light, almost-girlish sound. Her hand leaves, making its way around her own chest, lazily massaging her small breasts.

Twilight reaches up with her other hand and drags Rainbow's fingers down, crossing over her busy arm. She clumsily jams that hand back where it should be, small, callused fingers resting against Twilight's virgin folds.

"Like this?" Rainbow asks. They're perfect mirror images of each other, each resting a lovely hand on the other's even lovelier place.

"Yes!" Twilight says, her excitement dripping out of her in so many ways.

Rainbow Dash grins again, granting cocky approval. Then she slips a finger in.

Twilight gasps and does the same, just a half-second later, trying desperately to match her. They pause after the first penetration, holding in each other, just staring into each other's eyes.

Rainbow Dash waggles her eyebrows. "Race you?" she says.

Twilight nods dreamily, not caring at all. Sure, a race, whatever, this can be whatever Rainbow Dash wants as long as she keeps that hot, lithe, naked jock body right here in this bed.

Dash starts stroking right away, hot out of the gate. Twilight vainly rubs her back, crying out an ecstatic moan with each breath. Faintly, somewhere in the back of her head, she tries to force herself to do something with her fingers, something crazy and impressive that she's surely read about somewhere at some point. Something to show this girl that Twilight Sparkle isn't all blushing bookworm. But she can't think.

And that's just fine. She knows she's going to lose.

* * *

Someone knocks on the door.

Twilight instinctively covers herself, shielding her chest with her arms. She feels Rainbow Dash behind her, snuggled up in the athlete's thin, wiry arms.

"Fluttershy?" Rainbow Dash asks. She pulls the sheets up, over them, almost up to their necks.

The door opens. The pink-haired girl walks in, staring at the floor. She mutters some things - Twilight's pretty sure she heard forgot something and just one second and so so sorry I'll leave right away. Dash's roommate goes guiltily about her business, putting the small animal back in its cage and then rummaging around her desk.

Twilight feels Dash roll her eyes.

"Jeez, Fluttershy. It's fine," Dash says. She shakes Twilight a little. "Isn't it fine?"

Twilight coyly slides her bra back into place, pulling the straps over her shoulders. She's still naked everywhere else, vulnerable under Dash's thin sheets.

Fluttershy is frozen down there on the floor, clearly panicking. Whatever she's looking for hasn't presented itself for finding, and Twilight can't help but feel sorry for her.

And I thought I was bad...

"Sure," Twilight says. "It's fine. I mean, it's your room, right?"

Fluttershy peeks up at her from under her bangs, really meeting Twilight's eyes for the first time.

"I'm sorry," Twilight adds. "I didn't mean to kick you out like that."

"Hey, I kicked her out!" Rainbow says. "Don't take all the credit."

Twilight jabs her with an elbow, smiling at the grunt it produces. Fluttershy turns her face away instantly, but Twilight could swear she saw the girl start to smile. She watches as Dash's roommate sits down at her desk, hastily unhooking the many cords running out of her computer.

Twilight sees her face clearly now, bathed in the soft glow of her laptop screen. She's ridiculously beautiful, in a very classical, magazine-perfect model kind of way. Her turquoise eyes look huge, reflecting the screen of the computer before she snaps it shut.

She gets up to leave, hugging the laptop to her ample chest.

"Hey, wait!" Dash says. She leans up on one elbow, peering down over Twilight's shoulder. "Come on, ‘Shy. This is Twilight."

Fluttershy freezes, staring up at them. Twilight gives her a subdued little wave.

"Twilight, this is Fluttershy. Me and her go way back," Rainbow Dash says.

Fluttershy looks like she wants to wave, but her hands are full of computer. She squirms nervously instead.

"Aren't you in my Bio class?" Twilight asks.

"...Yes," Fluttershy says.

"Yeah, you always sit way in the ba - Dash!" Twilight jumps in place as she feels a sharp pinch on her ass. She jabs her elbow back again, this time only getting a mean chuckle.

Fluttershy looks completely mortified, caught in the spotlight of awkward. Twilight tries to ignore Rainbow's mischievous hands wandering over her hips and belly, tries to focus on being friendly. Nice, and welcoming. Like she always wishes people had been to her.

"Is that a rabbit?" she asks, nodding towards the cage.

"Mmm-hmm," Fluttershy nods, finally smiling a little.

"Neat," Twilight says, waging a not-so-silent battle of hands under the sheets. "I have a pet back home."

"Oh?" Fluttershy's head snaps up.

"Just an iguana."

"What's its name?" Fluttershy asks instantly.

"Spike."

"Ooooh. Spike," Fluttershy repeats, sounding so amazed that Twilight starts to think she's being made fun of. "My bunny's name is Angel."

"Well it's nice to meet you, Angel," Twilight says, staring at the cage. She can't even see an animal inside it.

"Angel's kind of her boyfriend," Rainbow Dash whispers very loudly.

Twilight rolls her eyes. Fluttershy pouts, back to hiding under her hair.

"It was nice to meet you Twilight goodnight," Fluttershy mutters, the words tumbling out as she leaves the room. Twilight can't think of anything to say in the half-second it takes for Fluttershy to escape.

Twilight turns on Rainbow Dash the moment the door closes. "You're terrible!" She playfully punches Dash on the shoulder.

"Man, you don't even know," Dash says. "She's only all embarrassed because she likes to watch."

"What?"

"Probably," Rainbow Dash shrugs. "I mean, heck, I would sleep out in the lounge if she ever brought somebody back. No problem."

Twilight scrunches her nose up, not quite sure what to think about all that. Further analysis is thrown off track by Rainbow Dash groping at her butt again, lightly playing her fingers just under the curve of Twilight's cheek.

Twilight squeaks and snuggles up against Rainbow Dash, resting her hands against Dash's breasts. Dash holds her gladly, and they lie like that, breathing against each other.

"Does she really like to watch?" Twilight asks.

"Naw, I'm just kiddin' around," Dash says.

"Oh." Twilight casts an anxious glance at the door. She pictures the ratty, sagging furniture in the common room back at her dorm, and shudders.

"You staying the night?" Dash asks.

"Huh?" Twilight takes a moment to think, more out of habit than anything else. "Can I? Should I?"

"Yeah, it's cool." Dash throws her own look at the door. "Put something on. I'll go get her."

"You're not gonna feel me up right in front of her like before?" Twilight glares at her.

"What, you didn't like it?" Rainbow's hand gives another gentle pinch at Twilight's soft flesh.

No! No, it did not give me shameful, naughty excitement.

She doesn't say it. She just gives Rainbow Dash her most judgemental of looks.

"Okay, okay, jeez." Rainbow Dash solemnly holds a hand up. "No sexy times while Fluttershy is in the room. Scout's honor."

Twilight gives her a satisfied, smiling peck on the cheek. She gladly watches Rainbow's naked body as the girl climbs down from the bed, joylessly throwing on sweatpants and a baggy T-shirt. Rainbow looks around on the floor for a moment.

"I think your panties are still up there," she says.

"Oh." Twilight digs around under the sheets, finding them quickly enough. She slides them on, still hidden under the sheets as Rainbow Dash goes out to retrieve her roommate.

> Bartabs
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The elevator doors slide open in front of her – elevator doors. She still can't get over that. With the state of her own dorm, she's surprised these elevators exist, and double-surprised that they aren't covered in graffiti and broken glass and dried vomit.

Twilight steps out onto the third floor. She's feeling good – more than good, better than good. Her backpack is gone, along with her sweater vest. She's replaced her frumpy jeans with a fetching little skirt, just short enough to give her a bit of scandalous thrill. She walks, easy and relaxed, mostly at peace with the universe.

There's an open lounge to her right as she steps out. As usual, the TV is on and someone is sitting there with their back to the elevators. As not usual, that person has long pink hair.

"Fluttershy?" Twilight strays off her path, wandering into the common room.

"Hmm? Oh... hi." Fluttershy looks up, just enough to give a short, friendly smile. Then she tears her eyes back to the TV.

"What are you..." Twilight trails off as she sees the man on the screen.

"...That's no joke, friends. Iron Will is so confident that you will be one hundred percent satisfied with Iron Will's assertiveness techniques, that if you are not one hundred percent satisfied... you! Pay! Nothing!"

Twilight cringes as she watches the man strike a different pose on each syllable.

Is he wearing a suit with... the sleeves cut off?

She covers her mouth with one hand, shaking her head, holding in withering laughter. She's about to say something appropriately witty, but the man on the TV screen cuts her off.

"I wanna hear you yell if you're tired of being a pushover!"

"Mmm," Fluttershy nods gently, munching on popcorn.

"Yell if you're tired of being a doormat!"

"Wooooo," Fluttershy says quietly.

Twilight gags loudly, wondering who would ever pay to listen to this idiot. "Wow," she says, "this is actually pretty funny."

"Funny?" Fluttershy looks up at her with nothing but blank confusion.

"There you guys are!" Rainbow Dash enters loudly. "Alright, ladies, you ready to – aw man, 'Shy, you're watching THIS guy again?"

"Again?" Twilight's eyes practically bug out.

Fluttershy hugs her bag of popcorn to her chest, protecting it. "...He turns doormats into dynamos."

"He turns stupid people's money into more steroids for his show-muscles," Rainbow Dash says. "Look at him! He's all... leathery."

"He has a healthy tan," Fluttershy whispers.

"He looks like a meat-monster," Twilight says.

"He's a bodybuilder," Fluttershy says with a pout.

"Whatever." Rainbow Dash snatches the remote off the couch.

"Now, to demonstrate that Iron Will's techniques will work for..." The man's gruff voice disappears as the TV screen goes dead.

"Oh." Fluttershy pouts harder.

"Guy probably has a tiny dick anyway," Rainbow Dash says.

"He does NOT!" Fluttershy says, glaring at her roommate.

Twilight and Dash freeze, just blinking at their friend with bemused smirks.

"Um... I mean..." Fluttershy shrinks against the couch, a mortified parody of herself.

"No, it's alright. I'm sure he's hung like a gorilla," Twilight says with a smug, clever smile.

"Mmm!" Fluttershy nods vigorously.

"Eww, Twilight!" Rainbow Dash says. She only looks grossed out for a second. "I know she likes 'em big," she nods towards Fluttershy, who squeaks and slams her eyes to the floor. "But you? Eww."

"No, they..." Twilight starts to explain, but can't quite finish that sentence. "Nevermind."

Rainbow Dash rolls her eyes and ruffles Fluttershy's hair, wearing a weary, "What can you do?" kind of smile. "Come on. Let's head out."

So they do. They make their way outdoors, the three of them walking side-by-side, Rainbow Dash in the middle with her girls flanking her.

They don't talk much. It's a strangely quiet night – the campus seems deserted, an empty Friday. A sharp Autumn wind whirls around them, pulling drifts of brittle leaves along the ground. They walk on, down the hill, past dorms and small square fields and then veering off, away from the quad. Towards town.

Twilight tries hard not to shiver, folding her arms around herself and rubbing them. She should've worn a jacket, but none of the ones she owns seem right anymore – they all look hopelessly frumpy. Obsolete. She wonders if Rainbow Dash would even notice if she looked frumpy.

"What are you, cold?" Rainbow Dash says.

Twilight stiffens up, pretending for just a second that she isn't. "...Yes," she says.

Without a word, Rainbow Dash drifts closer and loops an arm around Twilight, pulling her in by the hip. Her other arm rubs Twilight's shoulder, pulled snug against Dash's track jacket. It's instant relief, even if it's a little awkward to walk now.

Twilight glances past her paramour. Fluttershy is conspicuously looking ahead, maybe even away slightly. Twilight knows by now that it's nothing malicious – just Fluttershy being Fluttershy. She used to feel like she should be jealous of the pink-haired girl, but those feelings turned out to be patently, obviously ridiculous. Fluttershy is as harmless as her name would suggest, even if she looks like she could wreck every home.

They walk on, down a large, quiet, empty street. Off to the side, only glimpsed through gaps between townhouses, Twilight can see the lake. Well, really, she can see the black expanse where the lake sits, swallowing the measly light around it.

They reach downtown in just a few minutes. "Downtown" consists of a few short streets and a few more empty shopfronts, interspersed with cheap restaurants and bars. It's far from what Twilight pictures when she hears the words "college town." All that she can think when she sees this place is a town that's seen better days.

Twilight's never been here. Not like this, at night. It's not quite quiet and empty, there are people walking around here and there and music drifting out from bars, but it's still nothing like she imagined. She nestles closer against Rainbow Dash, hiding against her under the streetlamps.

Dash leads them up to the closest pub. A man is waiting at the door, a mean-looking dude with a shaved head and a very cheap leather jacket. He stares them down as they approach.

Rainbow Dash shoves Fluttershy in front of them, grinning as the poor girl squeals loudly.

"Alright, you got any –" the man starts to ask. His eyes slide down to Fluttershy's chest. She's wearing a thick yellow sweater, but even it can't properly contain her boundless breasts. The man looks duly impressed, and he waves her in. Fluttershy enters the bar as apologetically as possible.

Twilight's heart unwinds a little.

Well, that was easy.

She gets just a little less worried about the card in her pocket with the words UNDER 21 printed right above her picture.

Rainbow Dash steps up next, still holding Twilight at her side. She proudly hands the bouncer her license.

"Huh." He cocks one eyebrow. "You're thirty-seven?"

"Yeah, what about it?" Dash says with plenty of leftover sass.

The bouncer rolls his eyes. "And you?" he says to Twilight.

"Uh..."

"She's with me. It's cool," Rainbow Dash says.

"Sure, it's cool. Soon as I see some ID," the bouncer says.

"What is this crap?" Rainbow Dash barks. "I said she's cool."

Twilight shrinks into the girl at her side – the bouncer was kind of leaning against the entrance, relaxed and bored. Now he stands up straight, obviously flexing and trying to look bigger.

"You show me ID," he says right at Twilight, "or you walk."

Twilight gulps loudly. She feels Rainbow Dash's hand tighten at her hip, the fingertips digging into her shirt.

But then a huge guy in a red work shirt pokes his head out from the bar.

"Hey." He waves at the bouncer.

"'Sup, Mac?" The bouncer smiles easily.

"They're with us."

"Yeah? Cool, alright." The bouncer waves them through.

Rainbow Dash drags her inside, muttering some smug things while glaring at the door man. Twilight stiffly follows, still high on panic.

The bar is a narrow, dim, cramped room, crammed full of as many tables and chairs as can fit in the small space. Twilight can't even begin to make sense of it – the noise alone, the pure noise, a cacophony of loud voices and TVs and music blaring all at once, muddling together into an assault on her ears.

The huge guy in the red shirt is right in front of them. He's solid, a mountain of a man, with freckles that give him just a hint of boyish cute. Rainbow Dash goes right up to him.

"Hey, thanks for..." she trails off, because he hasn't noticed them at all. He's too busy listening to Fluttershy, leaning in a little to pick up her gentle words.

"...That was really nice of you," she finishes.

"Hey, anytime," he says, giving her a smile like he means plenty more.

"You know this guy?" Rainbow Dash says. Fluttershy and Mac startle a little, just now remembering that other people do, in fact, exist.

"Oh, sorry. This is Mac," Fluttershy nudges the big man, sidling up close to him to do so. He gives a polite little wave. "I had a practicum at his farm last year."

"Ain't my farm," he cuts in gently. "Family's."

"Right, right." Fluttershy smiles, wider than Twilight's ever seen. "His family's farm."

"Nice to meet you...?" Mac says.

"Rainbow Dash." She practically puffs her chest out, posing for maximum awesomeness.

"Twilight," Twilight says quietly.

"Pleasure," he says. His way of talking is strange to Twilight – it's more than just the accent. It's his slow drawl, lazily rolling his words out. He looks over his shoulder. "This here's my sis, Applejack."

A tall blonde appears out of nowhere, her cheeks sprinkled with the same freckles as her brother. Twilight feels a guilty rush just looking at the girl – she's tanned, and built, and has an absolute knockout of a figure, much as she tries to hide it behind dirty, simple clothes.

"Howdy," she says. "Jus' AJ's fine."

Twilight instantly feels a void next to her – Dash's arm is gone, and the rainbow-haired girl walks right up to the new arrival.

"You can not be serious," Dash says. "Howdy? And the hat?"

They all stare at the beat-up brown stetson on Applejack's head.

"What's wrong with my hat?" Applejack glares.

"Nothing." Rainbow Dash is obviously holding in a mean laugh. She points at Applejack's sneakers. "I think you lost your cowboy boots, though."

"I might lose one up yer ass, you keep on like that," Applejack says.

"AJ," Mac says with plenty of worry.

"Wow, you wanna touch my ass? And I thought you local girls were boring," Rainbow Dash says.

Applejack scoffs loudly. "Yeah, no, how could a lowly farm girl ever compare to a college co-ed?" She puts a bent hand to her forehead in a mockery of daintiness, raising her voice. "Ooh, I'm at college! I'm gonna drink half a light beer and kiss a girl! That'll piss off my dad, but not enough so he'll stop sending money!"

"Hey, I'm on a scholarship!" Rainbow Dash barks, suddenly very angry. "And I could drink your wannabe-Dixie ass under any table."

"Little thing like you couldn't drink a dog under a footstool. You college idiots – thinkin' you got grit just 'cause you threw up a few times." Applejack shakes her head, grinning.

"That's it! You and me! Shots! NOW!" Rainbow Dash jabs a finger into the taller girls chest with each sentence.

Twilight blinks rapidly, not sure how things are happening so quickly. Suddenly, Rainbow Dash and this new girl, this buxom blonde knockout, are sitting together at a tiny table, yelling for shots to be lined up. People all around the bar take notice, cheers and whoops ring out.

Mac sighs loudly and shakes his head. Fluttershy puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Let's just sit," she almost whispers.

Twilight follows them, not looking away from Rainbow Dash for an instant. Dash – her Rainbow Dash – is eagerly eyeing Applejack, grinning with that sexy, predatory, almost angry smile that she gets when...

When she's about to pounce on ME.

Twilight sits, barely cognizant of anything but the spectacle going on a few tables over. The competitors each raise their first drink, looking each other in the eye. For a long time. Just staring, smiling, like they're about to just knock the table over and do it right then and there on the filthy bar floor.

They're not going to do THAT what is wrong with me?

They drink, and people go wild around them, cheering them on. They slam their glasses down. They reach for another. They say things, probably flirty, sexy things. Twilight can't hear. She can feel her brow furrowing, her eyes narrowing at the beautiful, terrible Rainbow Dash.

"Miss?"

"Huh?" Twilight tears her eyes away. A waitress is waiting, standing right next to her with her pencil raised.

"Oh... I need a second," Twilight says.

The waitress nods and moves on down the line.

"A Shirley Temple," Fluttershy says.

"Alright, we do our Dirty Shirleys with vodka or rum, which do you want?"

"Um... neither."

"Okay, you... wait, what?" The waitress almost moves on to Mac.

"Neither. Just a Shirley Temple," Fluttershy says.

"Oh... kay..." The waitress shrugs. "What about you, handsome?"

Mac orders something. Twilight has no idea what it was – Rainbow Dash is pointing at Applejack's chest, saying something. Something naughty and mean, she can tell by Dash's smile. Pointing at Applejack's magnificent chest, reigned in by a checkered orange shirt, tied instead of buttoned, over a low-cut white tank top. Twilight can see freckles on AJ's skin, freckles that must go down further. The crowd around them laughs.

"And you?"

"Oh!" Twilight tears her eyes away again. "I'll have... uh... a... beer?"

The waitress stops just short of rolling her eyes. "We have..." she embarks on a long list of names, names Twilight isn't exactly familiar with. Then she's finished, and Twilight is just sitting there with all eyes on her.

What is this? Isn't beer just that thing idiot guys always want you to come over and drink?

"What kind do you like?" Mac leans over the table towards her. "Stout or lager or what?"

"Stout," Twilight says instantly, mostly because it was first on the list. It sounds solid and plain, though, and she quickly feels it was the right choice.

Mac gives her an impressed nod and then orders her a pint of something. Twilight barely listens, she can't stop staring at Rainbow Dash, feeling something hot and loud and angry rumbling low in her gut.

Applejack leans over their table and tears the zipper of Dash's jacket down, pulling it open, exposing the t-shirt covering Rainbow Dash's modest, sleek chest. The crowd around them erupts into a chorus of "Ooooooooooh!" and Rainbow Dash laughs wildly.

"Mac?" Twilight turns her back on the horrible spectacle. "Does your sister have a boyfriend?"

Mac snorts loudly. "Not likely."

What?! WHAT?!

"Is she into girls?" Twilight asks urgently.

"Whoa," Mac holds his hands up. "None of my business. Yours either, come to think of it."

Twilight fumes on her seat, wondering how such a nice-looking guy could be so devious. "Fluttershy?"

Fluttershy cringes as if struck, surrendering to Twilight instantly. Twilight searches for words, a question to ask, anything, she's not sure why she's even glaring at the poor pink-haired girl.

"You've known Dash for a long time, right?" Twilight asks.

"Mmm-hmm. Since before college," she says.

Twilight balks a little. She hadn't known that. "Well... what is she doing?"

"Having a drinking contest with Mac's little sister?" Fluttershy offers.

Twilight groans and viciously rolls her eyes.

"Is something wrong?" Fluttershy asks.

"No!" Twilight almost yells. "No, nothing is wrong and everything is fine." She slams her elbows onto the table, resting her chin on her hands so she can angrily stare at the other side of the bar.

Dash snatches a drink out of Applejack's hand, mere inches from her lips, and downs it herself. Applejack goes to steal one of Dash's drinks in return, and they lock arms as they struggle over it, pushing and pulling against each other, hands clasped onto arms, flexing and writhing and...

"Who does she think she is?" Twilight growls.

"Uh..." Mac raises a finger.

"Right, sorry, not your sister. Her. The other one." Twilight intensifies her glare.

"Um..." Fluttershy mutters.

"No, I know she's your friend and all. But seriously," Twilight throws her hands up. "Why would she do that? She knows how uncomfortable it makes me when she... hits... on..."

Fluttershy and Mac are staring at her, more than confused.

"Sorry," Twilight mutters, tapping her fingers on the table.

They sit silently for a few seconds. Twilight nervously shifts her eyes back and forth at the rest of the table, but they seem to only be staring at each other.

"You guys are right, I shouldn't let it upset me," Twilight says. She's fighting hard to keep her eyes from wandering over, especially every time the cheers pick up. "I guess it was silly of me to think..." she trails off, leaving a forlorn pause over their table.

"She does like you," Fluttershy says.

"What?!" Twilight blinks rapidly. "Then why is she doing... that?" She blindly flails towards the ruckus nearby – she's still trying hard not to look, but she's pretty sure Rainbow Dash just not-so-accidentally spilled a drink down Applejack's shirt.

Fluttershy just shrugs back at her. Then she shrugs at Mac, who's obviously trying to look like he has no idea what's going on.

"No, no! You know what? This is fine!" Twilight throws her hands up, slamming them back down to the table hard enough to sting. "This is college. Let's be crazy and meet people and... and... just... I don't know." She stares down at her hands, oblivious to Mac and Fluttershy glancing at each other, having their own private, silent conversation. She snaps her eyes up to them. "Right? Isn't that how it works? I'm just being silly, right?"

"Uh...?" Mac rubs the back of his neck.

"I'll just get another girlfriend..." Twilight grumbles.

"Rainbow Dash is your girlfriend?" Fluttershy asks, genuinely curious.

"I don't know!" Twilight yells desperately. "Every time I start to think that's what it is, she says something or looks at somebody else like she – like she wants them, not me, and then she says things about them, right to my face, like it doesn't even hurt me. And it does!" Twilight pauses for effect – her audience is shocked at how obvious it is, they're right there with her, of course. "And I don't even know if she actually does anything like that with other girls. Does she?"

She aims that last one right at Fluttershy. Fluttershy stares back, caught in headlights. "Um... I don't think so. I don't know. Maybe you should ask her?"

"But I can't just ask her or she might –"

Twilight trips over her own tongue, gripping the edge of the table.

Might what? Say she does?

"Oh, hey. Drinks." Twilight snaps out of it as the waitress appears. Fluttershy and Mac are casting wary, worried glances at each other – obviously they understand her predicament. The waitress puts a tall glass in front of Twilight, full of something dark, so dark it's almost black, sporting a thick head of foam. It looks like some kind of foul poison. It looks perfect.

"Cheers?" Mac cautiously raises his glass. They clink their drinks together, Fluttershy blushing lightly for some weird reason.

Twilight just stares at the glass in her hand, feeling it chill her fingers. This is the perfect time to start drinking, really. Salvation at the bottom of a glass, right? She shrugs, and takes a sip with wild abandon.

"Ack! Guh!" She immediately regrets that decision, coughing and choking on the bitter liquid. She feels her face scrunch up, pulled inwards by alkali poisoning her tongue, by the worst coffee in the world run over ice and dumped into her mouth. "Blah!"

Mac cocks an eyebrow at her. Fluttershy watches with obvious concern, carefully sipping at her straw.

Twilight puts the glass down and pushes it away, almost scooting her chair out, anything to put some distance between herself and that foul liquid. Mac and Fluttershy give each other a long look – Twilight could swear there's a whole conversation going on between them, said entirely in subtle nods and looks. She sees Fluttershy nodding towards her, and Mac gets that light in his eyes, like he gets it.

"So..." He clears his throat loudly, looking at Twilight. "Not much of a drinker, huh?"

Twilight hides her hands in her lap, vaguely remembering the time her father had caught her experimenting with a bottle of cooking sherry. "...No," she admits. She glances up – she had been expecting Mac to be shaking his head, or getting ready to say something mean, something that all the other kids would laugh at.

Instead, he's just kind of smiling at her. For just a second, she feels some kind of telepathy, reading the words in his smile.

Hey – that's alright. No big deal.

She's so shocked that she clearly shows it, blinking and gently gawking at him.

"Can I get you somethin' else?" Mac asks.

For some reason Twilight's eyes start to run off on their own, over to the bright center of fun in the bar, two cute girls going at it like nobody's business. She yanks them back into place with a weary sigh.

"No. Thank you, though," she says.

She stares at the glass of terrible beer, wondering how it swallows light so completely.

"Do you want some of my Shirley Temple?" Fluttershy says, sliding her glass closer to Twilight.

Twilight stares at that instead. It's a bright, festive little drink, a flashy cup of fun. It even has a cherry on top.

She sighs again.

"...Okay."


• • •


"Why would you watch gorilla porn?"

Twilight actually stops walking. She grunts as Rainbow Dash shakily stops with her.

"...What?" Twilight says.

"Gorillas. Big ole' gorilla dick. Bleeeeeeehhhhhhhhh..." Rainbow Dash sways, her head lazily rolling around. Twilight is just barely holding her up, marvelling at how heavy the girl suddenly feels. She shakes her head and keeps walking.

"Isn't that like... illegal?" Rainbow Dash mutters, her feet dragging on the ground.

"Yes. Yes, watching gorillas fornicate for purposes of sexual gratification is probably illegal," Twilight recites, staring straight ahead. They're almost there, just a few more terrible feet to the elevator.

"You shouldn't do that," Rainbow slurs. "You shouldn't like that."

"I don't. I like other girls. Like you."

"What'd you say?" Rainbow Dash tries to raise an arm and point it at Twilight, but it goes wild, wandering off towards who-knows-where. "What'd you say to me?"

"Nothing," Twilight says coldly. She leans Dash's body against her own, just long enough to push the elevator call button. She cradles Dash in her arms, waiting, feeling her slowly, inexorably slide down to the floor.

"You said I like other girls."

"You do," Twilight says.

"I'm sorry," Dash moans, sounding like she means it. "I'm sorry!" she says again, this time sounding like she couldn't mean it if she tried. "You think I sleep around?"

Twilight rolls her eyes. This is maybe the fifth or sixth time she's heard this in the few minutes since they left the bar.

"No way!" Rainbow Dash yells. "No WAY! But if I did, I would totally do that girl from the bar." Dash tries to wave an arm and just flops it around instead. "Whass her name, cowgirl. Shut her RIGHT up."

Twilight glares at the elevator – she's starting to get pretty tired of that line, too. She pictures herself dropping Rainbow Dash roughly to the floor. Or down the elevator shaft. Or into a volcano. The doors open before it can go much further than that.

They tumble inside together, Twilight dragging Dash's dead weight around. In the confines of the elevator the stink is even worse – the girl in her arms reeks of raw, eye-watering liquor, a horrible smell that Twilight knows is soaking into her clothes.

"I jus' like to look..." Rainbow Dash slurs. "I swear, I just like to look. She was hot, wasn't she? Wasn't she hot, though?"

Twilight glares at nothing. The elevator crawls its way up, slowly and agonizingly pulling itself up, inch by inch.

"Hot and... like a..." Rainbow Dash mutters, hanging limp from Twilight's shoulders.

Twilight feels her nose scrunching up again, and takes a deep breath. Almost there. Almost there and she can drop this dumb drunk beautiful train wreck off and...

What? Never talk to her again? HA!

Her shoulders slump, lowering Dash almost to her knees. The elevator doors open.

"I'm fine!" Dash barks loudly, stumbling to her feet. She pushes against Twilight, launching herself directly into the elevator's open door frame. "FINE!" she yells again, plummeting to the floor.

Twilight finds herself unable to move temporarily, just staring at the pile of terrible girl collapsed onto the floor before her. The elevator doors start to close – one side bumps into Rainbow Dash, making her moan pathetically.

"Ugh... come on." Twilight groans loudly. She grabs Dash's arms and pulls. Rainbow Dash hardly moves, moaning again.

"Come ON!" Twilight grunts.

"Uhhhhhhhwwwwaaaaaaaa..." Rainbow Dash wails quietly, her eyes still closed.

I. Cannot. Believe this.

Twilight rolls her eyes, still pulling, haltingly dragging Rainbow Dash out of the elevator. She drags her past the open common room, willing herself not to look, to see whatever bemused people must be watching this spectacle.

Rainbow Dash starts kicking and stumbling with her legs, occasionally finding purchase. The two of them do a darkly comedic dance down the hall, pulling and grunting and breathing heavily. They arrive at Rainbow's room much as they were, Twilight hoisting Dash up by one arm.

"Keys?" Twilight asks.

"Uh," Dash grunts.

"I need your keys."

Rainbow Dash's eyes bug out. She makes a weird, choked coughing noise. Twilight's starting to get pretty tired of this, too.

"Oh god no." She drops Dash immediately. "Not here! Not on me!"

Dash clambers around like a blinded animal, stumbling towards a trash can a few feet down the hall. She throws herself onto it, almost into it, and it tumbles over on its side towards her.

Twilight watches with an anxious grimace – Rainbow Dash ends up almost lying down, her head deep in the trash can as her stomach heaves over and over again.

"Really?" Twilight says. "How could you possibly have any left in you?"

Rainbow Dash just convulses one last time in response.

"Keys!" Twilight scowls, willing herself to glare at the ceiling. She throws her hands onto her hips.

"Unh." A short grunt echoes out from the trashcan.

Twilight growls, a weary sigh that would put any harried mother to shame. She walks up to Rainbow Dash, just a skinny pair of jeans sticking out past a stinking cave of vomit. Digging through her pockets gives Twilight a weird, dark kind of joy – under other circumstances this would probably be fun.

"It huuuuuuuuuuuuuuurts," Rainbow Dash moans.

Twilight jumps in place, halting her angry frisking. "What hurts?"

"My throooooooooat huuuuuuuuuuuuuurts..." Rainbow Dash moans, rolling back and forth a little.

"Ugh." Twilight rolls her eyes, prying a set of keys out of Rainbow Dash's back pocket. The door opens easily – the room is a mess, as it always is, a smelly zoo of a mess.

She grabs Rainbow Dash's legs and drags, stopping only a moment later when she realizes how much she's dragging.

"What are you –" Twilight fumes. "Let go of the trash can!"

"I's mine..." Dash mutters. "I puked on it."

"What is wrong with you?!"

Twilight pulls, shaking Dash's legs until the barely-conscious girl slides out of her shell. Just a few more feet, and...

There. She drops Dash's legs. The door closes. Done.

Twilight collapses, sitting down on a pile of dirty laundry next to Rainbow Dash.

It's quiet. She hardly remembers flicking the light switch on, and now the room is harshly lit by the single fluorescent circle above. Twilight's never seen that light turned on before – usually it's one or several of the half-dozen lamps spread around the room.

Very quiet. The only thing she can hear is the occasional muted rattle of one of Fluttershy's animals rustling in its cage.

She risks a sidelong peek at Rainbow Dash. The girl is lying prone, on her side, her face slack and blank. It's hard to tell if her eyes are closed or just swollen almost so.

Okay, okay... black-out drunk? How many drinks? Over how many hours?

She files through her memories, checking catalogs of notes taken during orientation seminars.

On her side, good, no choking... wait, wait, check for breathing check for breathing!

Twilight darts a hand out, holding her fingers under Dash's nose. She feels nothing. She can't tell if Dash's chest is moving or not.

Oh my god oh my god

"Dash are you –"

"Humma muh fffffuuuuuuh..." Rainbow Dash mutters, stirring just enough to slap Twilight's hand away. "I'm fine."

Twilight is too stunned to sigh in relief. It forces its way out anyway, after a few seconds.

"God, I was really worried for a second," Twilight says, taking one of Dash's hands in her own. She pulls it over and cradles it in her lap, stroking Dash's palm with her thumb. It feels good, even after all that, to hold her slender, firm hand, intertwining their fingers, feeling the tight strength of Dash's muscles lying dormant.

"Worried? About me?" Dash says, her eyes still closed. She gets a silly, loopy kind of smile. "Thanks, babe."

Twilight sits there, holding her hand. Rainbow Dash squeezes her hand every few seconds, seemingly more awake.

Maybe she finally puked it all out.

Dash extracts her fingers and starts gently rubbing Twilight's arm, just lying there perfectly still except for the arm that Twilight's claimed. It's so... nice, somehow, sitting there in a pile of smelly clothes in a room full of smelly animals with a girl smelling of... of...

Stupid? She smells pretty stupid.

Twilight smirks, shaking her head slowly. It vanishes as Rainbow Dash's hand suddenly moves up, clumsily clawing at Twilight's shirt.

"What...?" Twilight hardly moves as Dash's hand fumbles its way up, groping at one of her breasts.

"What the hell are you doing?" Twilight bats her hand away.

"Come oooooooooooon," Dash moans pathetically, sliding her hand up Twilight's thigh, sneaking under her skirt.

Ew ew ew she has VOMIT on her JACKET.

Among other things.

"Stop that!" Twilight shoves Dash's arm away, pouting and crossing her arms. "I'm mad at you."

"You can't be mad at me," Rainbow Dash slurs, mumbling against her laundry, her eyes still closed. "You freakin' LOVE me."

It hurts. A sharp, piercing tear, right in her chest. Twilight is terrified she might cry, feeling something welling up in her eyes, threatening to spill out.

"I love you, too," Rainbow Dash says, smiling dreamily.

Salvation. Just like that.

"...Really?" Twilight says.

"Sure," Rainbow Dash says, sleepily smacking her lips. "Bunches. Tons. Love ya to bits."

Her hand makes another sneaky attack, crawling up Twilight's leg. She intercepts it, and instead of batting it away, Twilight traps it in her own, cradling it again.

"I didn't say I loved you," Twilight says.

Rainbow Dash shrugs, the barest hint of movement. Her hand squeezes Twilight's.

"Huh." Twilight raises her eyebrows, feeling glimmers of hope she hadn't known she'd been waiting for. "I never, ever, thought I would hear you say that."

Dash squeezes her hand again, a gentle, weak little gesture.

"You know, we shared some classes. Last year," Twilight says, not sure why she's spilling this secret but happy about it anyway. "I don't know if you ever really noticed me. I noticed you, though."

Dash doesn't move. Patiently listening.

"You used to make me so mad," Twilight goes on. "You'd sleep right through some of what I thought were the most interesting classes. And when you weren't sleeping you were playing with your phone – Professor Celestia totally noticed, you know! She's just nice enough not to bring it up."

She smiles guiltily, playing her fingers against Dash's beautiful, skillful hand. "It's silly. I always got so worked up about you. Funny how it turned out. Or maybe it hasn't changed that much."

She almost chuckles. No, it has changed. Here and now. Her and Dash. Together.

"I never, ever thought I would say this to you... but..."

She takes a deep breath. She holds Dash's hand tight.

Say it SAY IT for once in your life just DO IT.

"I'm really worried that I'm falling in love with you, Rainbow Dash."

She beams proudly, straightening her posture as she says it. Maybe it isn't perfect. Maybe it isn't pure or whole or even close to the smart thing to say. But it's still the most wonderful thing she's ever felt, finally just coming out with –

A snore cuts loudly through the room.

Twilight freezes, one eye twitching. She turns to Rainbow Dash. Dash is snoring loudly, completely passed out, her hand hanging limp in Twilight's. She's drooling onto her own dirty laundry.

"Ugh!" Twilight groans, throwing Dash's hand from her lap. "UGH!" She growls. She hits Rainbow Dash, slapping her on the shoulder, throwing impotent rage wherever she can.

"...Shut up, Fluttershy..." Rainbow Dash whines. She rolls over, away from Twilight, completely oblivious.

Twilight feels her teeth grind against each other, her hands tensing into claws. She feels like she could burst into flames at any second.

AWFUL. Awful, awful, AWFUL.

"Fine!" Twilight yells, throwing her hands up. "FINE! Forget it! Forget... forget you! Ugh!" She glares around the room, finding nobody to notice the injustice of it all. "I should just leave you here with... with..."

She trails off, finally noticing what she should've noticed a long time ago.

...Where is Fluttershy?


• • •


The truck shudders to a stop, brakes squealing a little as it gracefully noses up to the intersection.

It's a strange place for a red light. The middle of nowhere – darkness stretches out forever in every direction, fertile fields swallowed up by the night. Two lonely, empty roads cross, and the truck waits at the traffic light while nothing crosses in front of them.

Mac's hand leaves hers as he shifts into first gear – the stick moves reluctantly, thunking into place with reliable stubbornness. He looks back and knocks on the rear window.

"Red light," he says. "Do what you gotta do."

"Huh?" Applejack blinks, woozy and dazed. She nods a few times, then picks herself up from the bed of the truck. Fluttershy watches in the the sideview mirror as she leans over the side, and then –

She looks to the front, pretending not to hear.

Mac's hand finds hers again, slipping into her fingers and resting on her lap. It's huge, dwarfing hers easily, but he nestles a few of his fingers into her grasp anyway.

The light turns green.

"You good?" Mac says, without looking back.

"Mmmhmm." Fluttershy sees Applejack raise a thumbs-up.

Mac's hand goes away, but only long enough to shift. It comes right back.

He drives on like that, slow and careful with his sister lying in the pick-up's bed. The road is a tunnel in front of them, the only thing in a silent black sea. Fluttershy can pick out the tall grass along the side of the road, zipping by along the edges of fields lying dry, picked-clean after –

Movement. She gasps with joy and squeezes Mac's hand, her eyes following the deer as they bound off into the shadows. For just a moment she had seen them clearly, eyes snapping up and glowing in the headlights before bounding off into darkness, white rumps fading quickly.

She smiles at Mac, squeezing his hand again. Her eyes light up, brows raised hopefully.

He glances sideways at her, watching the road. But he smiles and nods back, squeezing her hand in return.

"Did y'all see those DEER?" Applejack yells, holding her hat secure as she hangs herself over the side of the truck.

Fluttershy winces at the sudden noise, her hand scuttling under Mac's.

"We never go huntin' anymore. When are we goin' huntin' again, Mac?" Applejack rambles, sliding back down into the bed. "I wanna shoot me some MEAT."

Fluttershy's hand freezes. She turns to Mac, one eyebrow raised carefully.

He's wincing, looking like he wants to throw a glare back at his sister. He turns to Fluttershy and solemnly shakes his head.

Nope.

She raises her eyebrow even further, staring into him.

Really?

He nods emphatically.

Not anymore.

She nods back, satisfied. She gently pats his hand. It slips away, throwing the truck into a lower gear as they sail smoothly through the night. But it comes right back afterwards, running his thumb over her knuckles.

They turn onto a bumpy dirt road, passing under a weathered wooden gate. The farmhouse is just ahead, a single light on the porch the only sign of civilization for miles. They pull right up to it, the headlights searching over a barn and then the house itself, a huge, rambling, storied pile of rooms.

Mac parks the truck. Fluttershy gets out quickly, eagerly, her shoes crunching in dirt and gravel as she carefully closes the door behind her.

She loves the smell. Almost more than anything else about the place, the first thing she noticed the first time she ever set foot on Sweet Apple Acres. A light breeze brings it to her, like it always does, cool and clean and alive. She takes a deep breath, feeling everything from the cows in the barn to the few apples still hanging ripe, even out to the wild forest beyond.

It's so much stronger in the dark, with no distractions. She smiles, deep and strong and real, the kind of smile hardly anyone ever sees from her.

She makes up her mind, again. Never, ever going home to the city. Ever.

Mac comes around from the back of the truck, holding Applejack up by one arm. Her shoes graze along the ground, not quite tall enough to throw an arm over her brother's shoulders and still be standing.

A dog starts barking from inside. They're happy barks, welcoming home.

"SHH!" Applejack yells impossibly loudly, her voice echoing into the night. "WINONA! You'll wake up Apple Bloom!"

Fluttershy rushes up to the door while the Apple siblings lag behind, peering in through a small window. Winona is just inside, panting and barking, smiling in that perfectly stupid way only dogs can. She quiets down the moment she sees Fluttershy waving, just sitting eagerly waiting for the door to open.

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" She hears Applejack behind her. "I got this." Applejack stands unsteadily, holding her hands out for balance. Mac hovers nearby, waiting for her to fall. But she doesn't.

The two of them trudge up to the door. Applejack sways on the stairs while Mac lets them in. Fluttershy waits patiently while Applejack stumbles inside.

"C'mere you mutt," Applejack almost falls over trying to pet Winona, goofy giggles spilling out of her.

Fluttershy keeps waiting. It takes her a second to realize that Mac is holding the door. For her.

She goes inside. The house is dark, lit only here and there where the light from inside sneaks in the windows. Applejack has already collapsed on the couch, rolled onto her side away from the rest of the world.

"Jus' don't wake up Apple Bloom," she mutters. "Poor girl."

Winona whines and nuzzles Applejack's back, sitting and waiting while her master flops one tired arm around to scratch behind her ears.

Fluttershy stands by the door, still nervous. She wonders why Applejack never worries about waking up Granny.

New light creeps into the room from the kitchen – Mac is doing something in there, small, muted sounds of a person trying not to make noise with glass. The living room is a crowded, cozy collection of beat-up old couches and easy chairs, every flat surface crowded with pictures and old-person knick-knacks.

He comes back with a glass of water, leaving it on a small table next to Applejack's couch. He has to slide it in amongst half a dozen picture frames.

Fluttershy watches as he puts a hand on Applejack's shoulder, gently shaking her. Applejack places her hand on his, creakily opening her eyes. She nods up at him a few times, patting his hand.

He looks up at Fluttershy. He shrugs – it makes him look ten years younger, for just a second, boyish and charming. She can't help but smile back.

Applejack's hand slides away, asleep or close to it. Mac gently squeezes her shoulder and takes his leave, heading for the narrow staircase at the back of the room. Fluttershy follows, stopping to give Winona one last quick petting session.

Mac lets her go first. It's dark, but she knows the way – she's been here plenty of times before. She's usually scared of the dark, of creaky old houses and – well, of everything, really. The kind of skittish fear she knows she should have outgrown a long time ago.

She doesn't feel a bit of it now. Mac is right behind her, just a few steps below, his huge body making the stairs squeal in protest.

They sneak down the hall. The first door they pass has a horseshoe hanging on it, right above a few pieces of paper with Bs and B-minuses marked on them, proudly displayed. Mac rests his hand on the small of her back, and they tip-toe together, to his room.

He collapses onto his bed instantly, sitting on the edge of the saggy old mattress with a sigh of relief. Fluttershy does a little tour around his room, running a hand lightly over random things she passes – an old football trophy, a hardly-used desk, a dusty old box of comic books. Things from yesteryear, lingering on.

She pauses – her fingers come to rest on a picture frame, turned away from the bed. No lights are on, but the stars suddenly seem very bright through the window. Still, she can't quite make out the photo. But she knows what it is.

"Some kinda night," Mac says.

"Mmmm." She pulls her hand away from the picture suddenly.

"Yer friends seem nice."

She turns to him and tiptoes across the room, pretending she hadn't been looking at anything. She sneaks up to him, feeling his eyes on her, wondering why it never scares her like it does when other people look at her.

She gets a little cat-like smile, safe in the dark here. She knows why, of course. It's because it's him. She stops at the edge of his bed, standing inches in front of him, her hands demurely folded in front of her.

"I'm sorry if they seemed – weird," she whispers. "They're not always like that."

"Shoot," he scoffs, looking at her with an easy smile. "Ain't even a thing. Ain't even on my mind just now, really."

She can just barely make out the emerald of his eyes tracing up and down her body. She folds her fingers together, biting her lip, her heart pounding with anticipation – it's been at the back of her mind all evening, all day, all week, forever, but it's only now and here that it's real and when is he just going to –

She gasps, almost squeaking. His rough hands slide slowly, gently up the back of her legs, dragging over her cheap jeans. They stop together right at the tops of her thighs, cradling the curve of her behind.

She grabs his shirt at the shoulder, bunching the coarse fabric up in tensed fingers. He gives her rump a tender squeeze and then his hands move up and down, massaging her thighs. She leans forward, letting out a deep breath of relief and resting her hands on his chest, her head lying in the crook of his neck, pink hair spilling all down his red shirt.

She has big breasts – she hasn't quite come to terms with this, but she is at least willing at this point to acknowledge the fact that they exist. Mostly to curse having them – they get in the way, and make every shirt she buys fit funny, and at the end of most days there's a slight ache in her lower back.

And that's not even getting into the way they make boys act. Even when she wants the attention, they're like two black holes for men's thoughts. The few times she's let a guy get close, they always go right for her chest – pushy and pinchy and getting lost in the heavy, troublesome mounds. Every time.

Until she met him.

"...Mac?" She stands up straight, looking him in the eye.

"Mmm?" He gives her right cheek an affectionate little squeeze, bordering on a pinch.

"Why do you always... um... touch my legs... first?"

"Huh?" He stops massaging her. "What, you don't like it?"

"NO, I do!" she says instantly. "It's just... um..." She glances down, at her own chest, and then away, embarrassed even to look at them.

"Oh." Mac nods at the huge swell in her sweater, even as he slides his hands around to the front of her jeans, trailing along the waistline. "Those ladies usually steal the show, huh?"

She gives him a curt little pout. He chuckles back, fumbling with her belt buckle – not leather, naturally. Some kind of thick canvas.

"Truth be told, I'm scared of those things, 'Shy." He unbuckles her belt and starts clumsily searching for the buttons on her jeans.

"Scared?" she balks, speaking almost at a normal person's volume.

"'Fraid I might get sucked in or somethin'. Mighty intimidatin', those two."

She smacks her hand against his chest, a solid wall of muscle. She rolls her eyes huffily, but for some reason her lips refuse to cooperate – they're stuck in an amazed little smirk.

"Nevermind," she says.

Suddenly, quicker than thought, one of his hands is one the back of her neck, pulling her into a kiss. She almost panics, her hands shooting out and hovering around them. For all its sudden start, he kisses her slowly, politely using his tongue until he feels her calm down. When his lips pull away, a different kind of tremor is shaking in her chest.

"I don't wanna get stuck on those two," he whispers. "The rest of you's just as pretty."

She can feel his other hand getting frustrated, failing to deal with her jeans in the dark. She rushes to help him, her hands trembling a little. They work at it together, four anxious limbs working in tandem. In an instant cool night air is sending goosebumps along her thighs as he slides her pants down.

Her hands retreat as soon he's taking her jeans off, leaning against him for balance. Mac bends down to finish his work, and she kicks her shoes off, awkwardly with her pants around her ankles. She steps out of them, one leg at a time, and feels a dusty old throw rug under her socks as he kisses his way back up, setting her breath all a-flutter the higher he goes.

She's glad it's dark – her underwear is silly and pink, with yellow butterflies all over it. The kind of thing a little girl would wear. She always thinks she should buy something lacy or low-cut, something sexy, and of course she never thinks to really do it, she never thinks, and she frowns in the dark as he gets closer to...

Mac doesn't care at all. She can feel him smiling against her thigh as he kisses her, his big, rough hands squeezing her legs again. She can feel every callus in every one of his fingers, scratching over her flawless milky skin. He moves up and up, following after with his hands, getting closer, and then he's...

Fluttershy gasps, clenching her fingers. He places one gentle little kiss front and center on her panties – part of her wants to hide away, to just go someplace else in her head while he does what he wants, until it's over. Like she used to, like she always did with other boys.

She'd tried that, her first time with him. It... it didn't work. It just wouldn't work. The way he looked into her eyes, waiting for her to meet him there before every movement, it just...

She starts panting, her stupid chest heaving with every breath. Shocking herself, she tangles one hand up in his hair, his lovely, glorious rust-colored hair, and pulls his head up.

He stares up at her, a little confused. Pleasantly so.

No?

She smiles at him. He'd taken a kind of special pride in that part, ever since she bashfully admitted that he was the first man to do... that to her. He always, always does it to her. And that's... well, the only word she can really think of is wonderful.

"Uh...?" he says, still held back by his hair.

Fluttershy releases him. "Oh! Um... sor–"

She stops mid-word. A gruff voice cries out in her head.

Don't be sorry! BE ASSERTIVE!

He's still staring up at her, waiting on her word. She tenses up, her breath quickening, trying somehow to perform the unfamiliar act of consciously recognizing what, exactly, she wants.

"Can we... um... can we..." she taps her index fingers together in front of her, knowing how cute it must be. "Can we skip that part? Tonight?"

Mac gives her a bemused chuckle – he looks so boyish again, between his goofy smile and the freckles. "Uh... sure. If you want."

"Really?" she asks. "I mean, if you want to, we can –"

He chuckles again, shaking his head. "It's fine, 'Shy. What do you wanna do?"

She stares longingly into his bright green eyes – of course it's fine. Everything's fine. She can't imagine that he ever could be angry, at anything, and she feels silly again.

Silly, and... different. Something. She can't really put a word to it.

Smoothly, without fear, she reaches out and starts unbuttoning his shirt, working her way down from the top. He gets the message quickly and starts from the bottom, meeting her in the middle. He takes it off, and Fluttershy's hands don't wait for her permission to go ahead. There's no undershirt, no t-shirt, nothing underneath but a solid, hairy man-chest. She curls her fingers through his coarse, dark hair, grinning at the image of her hands, small and pale against his pecs.

She kisses him, pressing her body against his. She climbs up on the bed with him, straddling his hips, and he pulls her in tight against him. Her legs work on their own, doing something so embarrassing, so amazing, grinding her crotch against the hot, solid body under her, cursing the fabric between them.

Her heart pounds – there's something inside her, something with a wicked smile and sharp eyes, gleefully stepping in as she finally, finally lets her guard down. Something that knows exactly what she wants. Something she only sees from the Fluttershy in her dreams, a confident, happy girl who says things. All kinds of things.

She lifts her arms, sticking them straight up in the air. He obediently pulls her sweater up and over them, her pendulous breasts pulled up and then sinking back into place. There's a T-shirt, just a slight little thing with the words CLOUDSDALE SUMMER CAMP stretched over the front, and that goes, too. She slams her arms down as soon as they're free, frantically tearing at the fly of his jeans.

He helps that along, still kissing her, breaking away from her lips to move haltingly across her cheek and under her ear. She awkwardly holds himself over him, yanking his pants off inches at a time, and gasps with a grin when she realizes he's not wearing any underwear. He tears at her panties, sliding them down one side at a time, strong fingers sending naughty little tickles everywhere they trail down her legs.

They kick what's left of their clothes off their feet, and then he's naked under her. She clings to him, her knees sinking into the mattress, running her hands over the rough hair on his chest and shoulders, tracing the line on his upper arm where pale muscle meets a leathery tan. He rests his hands on the small of her back, pulling perfectly in time with the needy rocking of her hips.

She can feel him against her. His hard, hot length slides against her lips, parting them slightly with each thrust she gives. His head is lost in a coarse nest of dark, pink hair, tickling a little as she grinds against him.

She's wet and blushing, achingly wet. Her breasts, still reigned in by a simple white bra, pool between them, smooshed against the firm muscles of his chest. She hooks her arms over his shoulders and clasps her hands behind his neck, resting her head against his collarbone, gasping with each slight, slick motion between her legs.

She feels him unhook her bra. He tugs it out from between them, lifting her arms again, and then...

She loves this. This part, this moment, when they're finally completely naked, nothing but quivering, sweaty skin against skin. Her breasts pool against him again, his chest hair tickling her huge, flat nipples. His hands, his strong hands, go right back to cradling her rear, the tips of his fingers digging into her.

She moans and kisses his cheek, squeezing her thighs against his. One of his hands leaves, digging around at the edge of the bed, and then she hears the telltale crinkle of plastic.

She sits up, drawing his concentration away from the deadly adversary that is a condom wrapper in the heat of passion.

"Can I... can I do it?" she asks.

He grins and chuckles again, dropping the half-opened thing onto the flat shelf of her chest. She pouts and grabs it, climbing down his body until her knees are on the floor.

He's right in her face. She freezes and stares at him – for all the oral attentions he's given her, she's yet to return the favor. In the half-light of the stars through the window, she can't make out more than a thick shaft, throbbing at attention.

She wonders, idly, what it would feel like to... to take him, in her mouth like that. What he would do with his hands. What kind of noises he would make. Part of her wants to try, right now, to just lick and suck and caress his... his thing until she feels his hot, salty...

She swallows, blinking a few times. Too soon, maybe. That other girl in her isn't in charge yet. It's still scary, sometimes. Still new.

With a daring little thrill, she gives him a quick kiss instead, just a peck right on the tip. He jerks and moans, even just from that, and it makes her smile. Then she carefully places her hands at the tip, ready to unroll the rubber onto him.

And then she just sits there.

She stares at it, holding the latex just above him. She never had any strong opinion on condoms one way or the other – just part of the whole... thing. But lately, she's started thinking of them as a necessary evil. She'd blushed when it hit her for the first time, lying naked in his arms afterward, wondering what it would feel like without one.

Feeling him. Really feeling him, to truly have nothing between them, nothing stopping his strong male body from filling her completely. What it would feel like to... to feel him do... that inside her. It must be so... so...

She blushes now, breathing hard, her nostrils flaring a bit as her imagination runs wild. She gets a determined little glare – this is it. Tonight is the night. She didn't come all this way, force herself through all that embarrassing horror at the campus clinic, just to turn back now.

She drops her hands, letting the condom fall to the floor. Then she climbs back onto him, picking up right where she left off.

"Whoa! Uh... 'Shy?" Mac says, not quite responding to her moaning and kissing and grinding.

"Mmm?"

"You forget something?"

She stops, bowing her head and staring up at him like she's been caught. "...No."

"Um... 'Shy?"

She cuddles up close against him, hiding. "I started taking... um... something."

He holds her, completely still, for a full second. She doesn't dare to look up into his eyes.

"It's... it's okay. Is that okay?" she asks desperately.

"Seriously?"

"I'm sorry I didn't talk to you about it, before, I just thought –"

He cuts her off with a kiss. A fierce, perfect, tender kiss, making her moan quietly and squirm against him.

That is very, very okay.

Of course it's okay. She moans in relief. Everything's okay, anything is okay, here in this bed with him.

She comes to life again, kissing back and grinding against him with renewed vigor. His hard cock feels different against her now, tinged with anticipation, his hard rod sliding against her and growing more slippery every second. He grunts and grabs a generous chunk of her hair, leaning against her, scowling and breathing hard.

She starts to sit up, to raise herself above him, like she always does. Their lovemaking had a lovely little pattern to it – she would slowly lower herself onto him, taking her time, going at a perfect Fluttershy pace. He would kiss and grope and caress while she did it, keeping her comfortable. Then they would rock gently together, Fluttershy on top, safe and sound.

She pauses, hovering just above him. He keeps kissing her, nibbling on the base of her neck – he knows sometimes it takes her a while, how she has to ease into things.

But she doesn't want to ease into things.

She rolls to the side, taking her with him. She scoots up and rests her head on the pillow, smiling at the naked shock on Mac's face. He holds himself carefully above her, even as she tries to pull his heavy body closer.

"...Like this?" he asks.

"Mmmhmm."

"But you said you didn't..."

She kisses him, shushing the rest of that sentence forever. When she breaks away, all she can see is Mac's weathered, stubbly face staring at her, trying to recognize this girl in his bed.

"I want to," she says. She doesn't apologize, before or after. She presses her hips up against his, feeling him pointing down at her – she almost wishes she could grab it somehow, pull it into her, fill that aching emptiness between her legs whether he's ready or not.

But he is. He kisses her back, guiding himself against her with one hand. He rubs his head against her, up and down, peeking between her folds. Then he rests it right at her entrance, just the tip pressed delightfully into her.

She bites his lip, wrapping her legs around him. He pushes.

"...aaaaaaaaaaah ah!" she gasps quietly, like she always does. It doesn't hurt – it never did, somehow. He slides into her, easily, slowly working his shaft in up to the hilt. It's perfect – she can feel every quivering inch of him, every vein pounding, every slight hair near its base tickling.

She hooks her ankles together. He grunts again, she can feel his chest trembling against her. He presses and pulls, one inch back and two forward, gently over and over again, nuzzling his face against hers as he groans quietly with each polite thrust.

He bottoms out, stopping as soon as he does. She always stops here, like a scared child wading into cold water, letting each part of her body warm up in turn.

Something's different this time. She wants to just dive in, she wants this, and she knows she wants it and somehow even after everything it's okay.

She bears down on him, kissing all over his face, letting out husky, breathy little squeaking pants. He may be a gentle soul, but she knows he's still just a man, and men are animals, and certain reactions are automatic. Instinct. A rabbit couldn't pass up a carrot any more than it could stop being a rabbit.

Mac is no different. He pulls back and thrusts, not wild or out of control, just a good solid push. She gasps and throws her chin back, curling her toes as he presses as deep inside as he can go.

And then again. And again. And again and again and it's so, so wonderful.

She always wondered before, with them, how their lovemaking was so seamless – there was never a distinct moment when the foreplay ended and the fucking really began, just one gradual, smooth slope into sweating, babbling, mindless passion, the kind of rutting that made their bodies slap together and make impolite sounds.

He plants one hand next to her head, supporting himself while the other snakes under her and buries itself in her hair. He thrusts into her at an even pace, not wild or out of control, still gentle. But still fucking her.

So there was that moment. She tingles all over as she realizes it, revelling in this new sex, this new way of loving him, this kind of dirty, scary fucking that's always been so terrifying. Even lying like this, with him looming over her, weighing her down into the bed – it should be scary. It is, maybe.

But she's overwhelmingly, unbelievably turned on.

"Mac?" she whispers.

"Mmm?"

She pants with each thrust, closing her eyes shut tight. Willing herself to just say it.

"Mmm? 'Shy?" He slows down. She can tell his face by his voice – the concern in his eyes, the slight, adorable raising of his eyebrows.

She squeezes him with her arms and legs, pinning him, almost crying out for him not to slow down, not to stop, ever.

"...harder?" she whispers.

"What?"

"Please?" She winces. She's a terrible person, some kind of dirty, shameful slut for even wanting this, and he's probably just going to kick her out into the –

"OH." Her eyes shoot open wide as he thrusts again, hard, pulling back almost out of her and then ramming home. He's smiling at her, his same easy, trusting smile as always.

"Like that?" he asks, boyish mischief twinkling in his eyes.

She gulps loudly and nods. He slams her again, sending a little ripple through the sea of flesh on her chest.

And then again. And again and again and again and he's not stopping.

"...aaaaaaaahhhhhhhHHHH," Fluttershy moans, loudly for her, reaching almost conversational levels of volume.

It's heaven. Pure, unbelievable heaven. She can't even remember to be ashamed of liking it so much. There's nothing left in her head but all the amazing things going on elsewhere in her body, and him, the handsome beast on top of her, holding her down as he lays into her over and over and over again, his hot, hard naked self thrusting inside her.

She's out of breath, her mouth hanging open as she claws desperately at his back. He shifts his weight, sliding his hips up and somehow thrusting deeper into her, turning her gasping breaths into barely-audible moans on each stroke.

"Harder!" she whispers.

"Yeah?"

"HARDER!" she growls, all thought gone.

He slams her, pushing her body up until her head taps against the wall, thrusting at his full might now. She screams quietly, registering above a whisper. Her back arches up off the bed, pressing all her skin into him, her hips trying to thrust in time to his as her breasts flop up and down, almost smacking herself in the chin. He pounds her, slapping their thighs and stomachs together, sliding their hot skin together, sweat pooling wherever their limbs meet.

Fluttershy loses her mind, nothing left for her now except this big, strong, hairy, lovely, boy – this man – this man who's never been anything but nice and kind and gentle to her and always listens to her and always tells her she's pretty, not just pretty, that she's wonderful and he wants to be with her and now he's fucking her, lying on top of her and just... just fucking her like... like...

Like an animal.

She comes, her eyes rolling back in her head as her fingers clench, drawing hot blood from the thick skin of his back. The muscles in her hips flex and squeeze and shake, her body spasming as waves of incredible pleasure flutter through every inch of her, butterflies tickling inside every vein.

Mac grunts and pounds into her one last time, and she can feel him, she swears she can feel him, feel him quiver and jerk and spend himself inside her as deep as he can go. Hot, giddy warmth spreads in her belly, pushing her even farther over the edge into a shuddering, moaning mess. He collapses onto her with a loud moan, his body crushing her incredibly sensitive breasts between them, pressing her hard nipples down into themselves.

They both lie there, wrapped around each other, catching their breath. They don't kiss or fondle or even move, much – just lie there, against each other, sweat cooling against their flushed skin.

Thoughts start to come back. He's still inside her, not quite as hard and throbbing but still a hot intrusion, occasionally spasming in lazy little aftershocks. She clings to him, perfectly together with him, wrapped together in a sweaty, sticky damp mess.

She smiles, deep and real and happy, feeling tears squeeze out from her eyes, mingling with her sweat. She smiles and kisses him on the cheek, and he whispers some kind of nonsense in her ear.

Neither of them says anything close to I love you.

They don't have to.
> Red Plastic Cups
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rainbow Dash nods her head, staring with a daring grin at the house in front of them.

Party.

It’s a good word. Sure, there are better words out there – fast, beer, win, ass – but party is a pretty good one. Party can be a good shortcut to those other things.

“...Ugh. Party,” Twilight says, shivering next to her.

Dash throws an arm around her shoulders. “Just chill, egghead. You’ll have fun, I promise.”

Twilight raises an eyebrow at her, stiffening up under her arm. “Having fun is what I’m worried about.”

Rainbow Dash shrinks and hugs herself closer to Twilight, suddenly hanging off her. “Yeah, well... I promise about that, too.”

Twilight starts to cringe away from her, but catches herself. She takes a deep breath, and gives Rainbow Dash that look, that awful, sad look.

I don’t know if I believe you.

“Hey,” Dash shakes her a little. She’d had to suffer through a whole morning of that look after last time. Not cool. “Come on. You’re my girl. You really think I’m gonna break a promise?”

“...No?” Twilight says hopefully.

“Damn straight. That’s how The Rainbow Dash rolls. Her word is her law. Loyal to the end!”

Twilight rolls her eyes. “Please don’t call yourself the Rainbow Dash.”

Rainbow Dash frowns, preparing to protest.

“For me?” Twilight says, giving her a very different look. A tempting, confusing look.

That’s more like it. “Alright, fine,” Dash says. “Because it’s you.”

“Because you...” Twilight trails off, nervously muttering something.

“What?”

“...Because you love me?” Twilight says, giving her the most painful look of all. The sad one. For once, it doesn’t instantly break Dash’s heart – she’s too busy cringing inside.

Eww L-word, eww.

“Uh... yyyyyyyyyyyyyyeah...” Rainbow Dash says, looking around. “Hey, there they are!”

A beat up old truck pulls up to the curb near them, edging in between all the other cheap cars. The streetlamps and shadows make it hard to see right away, but Mac is unmistakably at the wheel, with Fluttershy in the middle seat, happily squeezed up next to him. And next to them?

Twilight stiffens up again. “Is that... did you invite her?!”

Don’t lie don’t lie don’t lie

“Uh...”

What are you talking about?! LIE.

“I didn’t really invite her. I was talking about it with Fluttershy, and Mac.. and she was there, and I was like, sure, it’s cool, you can come too.”

Twilight deflates, her shoulders sinking as her face betrays utter, lost hopelessness. It’s only there for a second, though – she flares right back up, stabbing Dash with her eyes.

“What was I supposed to say?!” Rainbow Dash says, throwing her hands up.

“...Strike one,” Twilight says.

No fair! Sports are MY thing.

Dash shrugs and shoves her hands into her pockets. Fine, whatever – she’d already told Twilight a dozen times she wasn’t really that into the farmgirl. Sure, Applejack seems cool and all, totally solid babe, great to knock back a beer with her.

HOT. Also hot. Unbelievably hot.

She glares at the truck.

Stupid, sexy Applejack.

It’s still hard to see – is that even Applejack with them? It can’t be, there’s somebody sitting on somebody else’s lap, crammed into the last seat available, and that girl can not be Applejack. Applejack is blonde.

The truck door opens, and somebody who is definitely not Applejack steps out. Rainbow Dash’s eyes shoot wide open.

LEGS holy crap!

Legs forever. Long, slender, pale, and going up and up and on up. Rainbow Dash’s eyes keep rising, powerless, past...

Jeez what is that dress even?

It’s something. Tight and black and showy, and Dash can’t help but think she’s seen it before. This girl is rocking it, along with her gaudy jewelry and flawless makeup and... wow. That is some hair. Her head is topped with a ridiculously huge black bun, with plenty left flowing down the sides.

“I cannot believe I just did that,” the girl says angrily, climbing out of Applejack’s lap with not-quite grace. Rainbow Dash stares shamelessly – cleavage too, and lots of it – but she loses interest the moment she sees Applejack’s costume.

Half a costume, more like it. A red-and-gold corset, half-hidden under a beat-up leather jacket. She’s still got the the same blue jeans as ever, but now they’re paired with a lasso on her belt and dusty cowboy boots.

Half-assed Wonder Woman outfit? HOT.

“Well, what?” Applejack says, also angrily, climbing out after the new girl. “There’re only three seats! What, did you want me to sit in your lap?”

“I would’ve much preferred to sit in Fluttershy’s lap,” she says, making a show of brushing herself off and straightening her dress.

Fluttershy and Mac come around from the other side of the truck, holding hands. They’re dressed as Dorothy and the Cowardly Lion, if the Cowardly Lion was a big red-headed guy in normal clothes and fake ears and tail. “Um...” Fluttershy starts to say, holding up a finger.

“She was in the middle!” Applejack yells. “You can’t sit on her lap if she’s in the middle, that’s just crazy talk.”

“Why couldn’t you have driven? I thought it was your truck?” the elegant newcomer asks.

“Look, I’m gettin’ drunk, and that means Mac takes the wheel,” Applejack explains.

“Ugh, are you sure you aren’t already?” she says, lifting her chin and theatrically pinching her nose. “And when was the last time you showered?”

Applejack grunts, looking like she can’t quite remember. She lifts one arm and sniffs at herself.

“Not that you would notice,” the other girl says.

“I’d be surprised if I could smell anything over all that perfume you’re wearin’.”

Twilight and Dash glance at each other, not used to being ignored so thoroughly. Fluttershy and Mac join them with silent waves, which they return.

“It’s called basic hygiene. I’m not surprised you don’t know what it smells like.”

“It doesn’t smell like a –” Applejack catches herself, but Rainbow Dash could swear the word whore was next on her lips. “Sorry all, uh... this here is...”

“Rarity,” she cuts in, posing like a model on the runway. “My apologies, Applejack here can be quite distracting. Honestly, I don’t know how all of you put up with her. Very kind of you.”

“She’s not so bad,” Twilight says. Applejack gives her a huh kind of look, followed by a pleased nod. “I’m Twilight, nice to meet you. And this is...”

“Rainbow Dash,” she says, waving half-heartedly.

“Twilight, I love your toga!” Rarity gushes, jumping right into her personal space.

Rainbow Dash instinctively rolls her eyes.

“Very bold for not being at a toga party,” Rarity says, inspecting the fabric carefully. “is that actually wool?”

“It’s more historically accurate,” Twilight says, smug and proud.

“Indeed.” Rarity turns to Rainbow Dash, as an afterthought. “And you are...?”

“Rainbow Dash.” She poses proudly, puffing her chest out. “Duh.”

Twilight lightly elbows her in the ribs. Still mad, then. Whatever.

Like I was really gonna dress up as Commander Hurricane. Couple costume? Ewwwww.

“I see. Very pleased to meet all of...” Rarity starts to say.

“We’re dating,” Twilight says, nudging Rainbow Dash.

Rarity stops mid-word, blinking at them.

“Me and her. Girlfriends,” Twilight adds, leaning against Dash.

“Uh... yeah, just.. y’know. Going out. Heh!” Rainbow Dash says, feeling awkward wrapping around every word.

“Oh.” Rarity stares blankly at them, then lights up. “How lovely! Are you both students? I don’t think I’ve seen either of you around campus?”

“What, you spend a lot of time there?” Applejack cuts in, before either of them answer.

“Yes, and I’ll have you know...”

And then they’re off, walking towards the house in a constant stream of bickering. Mac and Fluttershy follow along, barely phased at all, in fact barely indicating that anyone else in the world exists but the two of them. Rainbow Dash shrugs and falls in behind, with Twilight hovering at her side.

“See?” Dash says. “Nothing to worry about. She brought her own date.”

Twilight lightly elbows her in the ribs. “Haha. Just... please don’t hit on her?”

“Who, HER?”

Jeez, how bad does she think I am?

Rainbow Dash hadn’t even considered it, really. This new girl is definitely not her type – she has high maintenance written all over her, probably hiding a nasty case of rich bitch.

Still hot, though.

Heh, yeah, man can you imagine? Nothing like a crazy bitch in the sack, right?

No no no STOP!

Rainbow Dash puts her arm around Twilight again, this time sneaking it down to her waist. “No problem.”

“You mean it this time?”

“Promise.”

Twilight seems satisfied, but she keeps staring at the new girl.

“What is she, anyway?” Rainbow Dash asks.

“Elvira, I think,” Twilight says.

“Huh?”

“Yes, definitely. Look at the sleeves,” Twilight says, nodding at the long black sleeves ending in ragged tatters.

“Yeah... sure.” Rainbow Dash nods as if she has any idea what that means. “So... you think that’s a wig?”

“Oh my gosh I didn’t want to ask!” Twilight says. “It looks like one.”

“I bet it isn’t. She looks like an eighties kind of girl.”

“Eww.” Twilight shakes her head. “I hope it isn’t.”

“Why don’t you go ask?”

Twilight clams right up, because of course she’d never ask.

Dash grins to herself – so maybe Twilight isn’t the usual kind of company Dash keeps. Hell, she’s more like Fluttershy sometimes – she likes to do quiet things, stay in and watch a movie or... you know, boring junk.

I mean... weird, but... you know, alright. I guess.

Rainbow Dash starts to remember, fondly, starts to get the hint of a strange, gentle smile she doesn’t really know how to wear. But then they step inside.

Awwwwww yeah... party.

Loud music, and beer, and dark, and it stinks. Rainbow Dash takes a deep breath, puffing her chest out.

...Awesome!

They squeeze their way past people crammed into what might be a dingy living room, stopping every half-second for Dash to nod or say hello or high-five, everyone happy to see her. She might not be captain of the team yet, but everyone knows what’s going to happen.

“Yeah, chug it down, Flitter!” Dash yells, nodding proudly at one of the freshman. She’s a good kid, that one, gonna be a great part of the team once she gets her legs under her. Not bad with a funnel, either.

“Nice flexibility, Cloudchaser!” Dash waves to make sure she got the girl’s attention – her teammate is showing off in a small clearing of people, bending her leg up and over her head easily. Their eyes meet and Cloudchaser’s cocky smile slides into a different kind of confident, smug and knowing and hot.

Man, that was awesome. Gotta hook up with her again someti-

“Whoa! A little too much flexibility, Blossomforth,” Dash yells, to nobody in particular since Blossomforth is making out with some guy right there in the doorway. “Hey, somebody get these two a room!”

She can feel Twilight against her, clingy and nervous and dragging along like dead weight, walking on careful tiptoes. Dash sighs quietly, covered up by the noise all around them – would it kill her to just loosen up a little? A girl like Twilight, you’d think all she needs is one good fuck and then she can –

“Rainbow Dash!”

Dash’s head snaps to the voice, because it is the voice. Her eyes light up, and she unconsciously squeezes Twilight, hard.

“Spitfire!”

“You made it.” The captain of the team, champion of their division, destined for pro greatness Spitfire slides up to them, all effortless cool.

And then she hands Dash a beer.

“Glad you did,” Spitfire says, maybe handing Twilight a beer, Dash isn’t sure because she isn’t looking because oh my god Spitfire. “Somebody’s gotta keep these kids in line once I graduate.”

“Ha! Heh heh. Yeah. Uh,” Dash stammers, feeling weird numbness in her tongue.

Talk you idiot talk say something cool say something cool

“You... uh... you been picked up yet?”

“Not quite.” Spitfire rests one hand on her hips, looking out over the crowd like a proud general. “Got a few offers. Leaving my options open tonight.”

Tonight?!

Dash gulps, then forces herself to take an instantly-forgotten drink. “Not what I meant, Captain.”

Spitfire looks her right in the eye, pulling her aviators down a bit, the leather of her bomber jacket creaking loudly.

Of course she’s wearing those shades, goddamn her eyes are so hot, fuckin’ eyes on FIRE

“I know,” she says, smirking at Dash. “And don’t call me Captain.”

Dash melts instantly. A year, over a year, of hearing that voice, even hotter when it’s stern and barking, telling her to call her Captain. Every time.

She’s gotten off to memories of that voice.

I mean, is she? I thought she wasn’t. But that was totally...

“And who’s this?” Spitfire says, holding a hand out to the girl lingering on Dash’s arm. “Sorry, I don’t think we’ve met.” It’s a whole different girl speaking to Twilight, professional and polite.

“I’m–”

“This is Twilight!” Dash blurts out. “My... friend.”

“Friend, huh?” Spitfire says, mocking disappointment. “And I was about to say how nice it was to see you not fraternizing for once.”

Dash freezes up, her arm around Twilight alive with panicked pins and needles. Can’t drop it, of course, not without facing certain doom later.

But... but... SPITFIRE.

“Girlfriend,” Twilight says, quietly stomping on Dash’s foot.

Spitfire does a double take. “Wow, really?” She leans in close to Twilight, and Dash feels herself hold back a jealous whine. “How’d you do that?”

“Ongoing process,” Twilight says, flat and clinical.

“Nicely done. You be careful with this heartbreaker, though. And you –” Spitfire turns to Dash, still close, Dash could swear she can feel heat from the fire her hair looks like. “You play nice. That’s an order.”

“Yes... Ma’am?”

“Proud of you, kid.” Spitfire lightly punches Dash’s arm. “I was gonna take a shot at you if you ever calmed down. Guess I missed my chance,” Spitfire says, looking strangely happy about it.

Dash blinks. The wind’s been knocked out of her, sheer dumb-faced shock the only thing keeping her jaw from hanging open.

“You two have fun.”

And then she’s gone, and Rainbow Dash is left, for once, without a single damn thing to say. She just blinks and stares at Spitfire’s blazing hair and perfect ass and her everything.

And then a sharp, sarcastic elbow jabs her in the ribs.

“Ow!” Dash jolts, remembering the girl at her side. “Hey!”

“Friend?” Twilight steps out of Dash’s grasp, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

“Oh, what?” Dash throws her arms up, spilling a little beer on the floor. “You want me to just blurt out first thing, ‘We’re dating’? Awkward.”

“You could at least pretend to try to not want to f...” Twilight trails off, her crossed arms becoming a nervous self-hug.

Rainbow Dash shrugs and sulks. “I didn’t do anything with Spitfire.”

“What about Cloudchaser?”

Rainbow Dash just blinks again.

“I was right next to you the whole time, Dash,” Twilight says. “If you’re just going to flirt with other girls all night, I’m going home.”

“Okay listen, me and Cloudchaser was like... a year ago. Not fair.”

Twilight softens a little – Dash knows that if there’s one thing this girl loves more than science, it’s things being fair. Reasonable.

Rainbow Dash takes her hand, pulling it out of her indignant pose. “She still comes on to me sometimes, but I’m done. Got something a lot better.”

And there it is – Twilight’s eyes light up, softly, and that little smile comes back.

But again, only for a second. Twilight squeezes her hand tight. “Still,” she says, almost as stern as Spitfire.

Rainbow Dash sighs loudly, her shoulders sinking low. “Strike two?”

Twilight nods, nose high in the air.

“Okay yeah, but...” Rainbow Dash drops her hand. “Come ON. Do you even know who that was?”

“Captain Spitfire, I presume,” Twilight says, rolling her eyes.

“Hell yeah.” Rainbow Dash can’t help but grinning. “I’d dump anybody for a shot with her. I’d dump me for a shot with her. She’s like my celebrity exception.”

“Celebrity?” Twilight asks, thoroughly unimpressed.

“Yeah, you know. My boyfriend back in high school always said he’d dump me in a second if he ever got a chance with Fleur de Lis.”

“...What?” Twilight asks.

“Fleur, you know, that model in all the –”

“No I know who she is – boyfriend?”

“Whatever, it was high school.” Rainbow Dash waves it off. “Point is, Spitfire is like... man. Freaking... wow. No offense or anything, but... wow. Don’t you think she’s hot?”

Twilight grimaces. “She seems really, uh... confident.”

“Right? I mean hell, if you were like, ‘Dash, I’m leaving you for Spitfire’, I’d be like, ‘No problem. Totally understand.’”

“I don’t think she’s really my type,” Twilight says.

“Well who’s yours then?”

Twilight’s eyes get huge for a moment, filling her glasses. “What?”

Those are so cute, why doesn’t she wear them more?

“Who’s your exception?” Dash says.

Twilight seems to think for a second, chewing on her lower lip. “...Hypatia of Alexandria?”

“Aw yeah, see, you know what I’m... wait, who?” Dash says.

“Nevermind.” Twilight takes a second to shake her head and pinch the bridge of her nose. “I’m finding a bathroom.”

She hands Dash her untouched drink. Dash, for once, just stands there, cold beers burning into each hand. She just blinks and stares at Twilight’s long blue hair and her cute little butt disappearing into the crowd.

She feels a tiny, guttering glimmer of something in her feelings, a small spark fighting to catch. Because she does like Twilight, of course she does, that nerd had turned out to be far more fun than she could’ve imagined. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance that The Dash has some changes to make.

But the spark dies out – I mean, Twilight’s hot and all, but come on. Spitfire. Once in a lifetime shot. Not that Rainbow Dash is going to go after it, because she promised.

Dammit.

But you couldn’t hold it against her to talk about it. That’s just being honest – Rainbow Dash wants to fuck Spitfire. She’s with Twilight, but fucking Spitfire would be awesome. Twilight would understand. Hell, anybody with a pulse would understand.

I don’t get it – what does she want me to do, lie?

Dash shrugs to herself. Thinking too much. Waste of time.

She wanders instead, soaking up admiration left and right. This is what every party should be – a chance for everyone to tell Rainbow Dash just how damn awesome she is. You know, getting it straight. Just for the record. Yeah, number one party dyke, in the house. Two beers – that is so Rainbow Dash. Lock up your panties, ladies, Rainbow Dash is on the prowl, and she IS gonna make you question a lot of things.

She’s grinning by the time she’s left the room, nodding her head and basking in it. She coasts into a hallway, peeking into the next room down. Gotta be more of her teammates in here, or maybe a few hot freshmen co-eds to pick over, or maybe even...

“Oh, come on,” Applejack’s voice drifts out to her.

Bingo.

Dash pushes her way into the room – there, on the other side of the room. AJ is easy to pick out, tall and strong and miles apart from the usual suspects around her. She doesn’t notice Rainbow Dash, because she’s far too busy glaring at that new girl.

Whatever her name was. Something -ity.

Whoever she is, she’s holding court in this room, a circle of obvious admirers drinking up every word she says. It’s not just the guys, either – plenty of young women are eagerly listening and laughing and complimenting, really laughing, not that fake party stuff.

Rainbow Dash stays quiet, somehow. She almost makes a loud entrance, because what kind of crap is this? People paying attention to something that isn’t Rainbow Dash? But she doesn’t. She doesn’t, because Applejack is far too good to interrupt.

The blonde girl is furious. Well, maybe not furious, but not exactly not furious. She’s hovering outside Rarity’s circle, peering in like she was fed up with the whole thing years ago. Every gushing bit of praise sets her eyes rolling. Every drunk freshman introducing himself sets her brow more furrowed. She looks like she’s about to throw her arms up and storm off.

But she isn’t.

Rainbow Dash chuckles quietly – it’s just too good. Applejack, tearing herself up over this girly prima donna – and there’s no way they’re dating, not with AJ wound up like this. No, this is a frustrated farmgirl.

Is Hot Legs straight? Oh no, I bet they’re... just friends. Heh.

Or maybe they slept together a few times and AJ can’t move on. And that’s another thing – since when are they dating? Like, really dating? Last thing Rainbow Dash remembers, she was fingering the hell out of some random girl who’d been staring at her ass for months, and now it’s like they’re married or something.

Come on. She’s pretty awesome.

Okay, maybe not... random. Maybe she’d always wanted to finger Twilight in a bathroom, to see that prissy nerd let her hair down and moan for once. And then the adorable thing had just kind of lingered, wanting more of Dash, wanting to be around her all the time, calling her up at random times to sheepishly ask if Fluttershy was going out that night, maybe they could do a movie or... whatever.

She was clingy. Awkward. Dorky.

But Dash hadn’t tossed her away without a second though.

Instead she’d found herself promising she wouldn’t go after other girls, where any other time she would’ve told Twilight to just deal with it or leave, because you can’t bottle this lightning.

It’s not like she actually wanted a girlfriend. Not now, in the middle of college, best hunting grounds there ever will be. So what if Twilight was a pretty awesome fit for the job? Her timing was all wrong.

“At least she isn’t Professor Luna,” Rarity says, snapping Rainbow Dash out of it. “Do you know I actually saw her break a student’s phone? She just took it out of his hands, dropped it on the floor, and crushed it. Just like that,” she says, grinding one of her heels into the rug.

The students surrounding her pause.

...Professor Luna? I’ve heard of her, isn’t she...?

“...Doesn’t she teach evening classes?” one of the students says for Dash.

Rarity jolts, letting out one carefully calculated laugh. “Does she? Perhaps that explains the grumpiness,” she says. “It was an awfully annoying ringtone, in her defense.”

“She only teaches evening classes,” one of the girls says. “My advisor said she kept getting in trouble when she taught undergrads. Now it’s continuing-ed only.”

“Whoa,” a fratboy next to Rarity says. He had been leaning in close, but his posture backs off instantly. “Are you like, a part-time student?”

“I have a full course load!” Rarity snaps, wincing as she can’t hold in the last part. “...Technically.”

A few people leave the room, muttering something about getting more drinks.

“Wait, wait,” another girl says, slurring and giggling, “Hold on, you’re not a student? Are you like, a professor or something? Oh shit.”

“I am not a professor. Do I look old enough to be a professor?” Rarity says in a sudden huff.

“Yeah but... you’re not a student, though? You’re eighteen, right?” the fratboy asks.

Rarity turns on him, eyes lit up and ready to cut him to pieces, but Applejack foolishly chooses that moment to step in.

“So what if she ain’t?” Applejack says, shouldering her way next to Rarity. “I mean, maybe she ain’t a student like you all, regular like. It’s only ‘cause she owns that beautiful store downtown. She’s got more to be proud of than you lot, buncha overgrown kids treatin’ college like a damn daycare. Y’all should be proud of her, workin’ her butt off like that an’ then takin’ classes at night to boot.”

Silence. All the biting wit that Rarity had been about to turn on the brawny dude next to her turns to shocked panic, staring aghast at the farmgirl.

“I mean... that ain’t easy, right?” Applejack says, shrinking only a little under the sudden heat of all eyes on her. “An’ what do you kids even do, aside from fuck around?”

“Applejack please shut up,” Rarity growls quietly through a grin.

“She even pays her own way,” Applejack says, distinctly not shutting up. “I bet not a one of you brats works even half as hard as this girl right here.”

Somebody in the room snorts loudly.

“Oh my god, you guys are townies!” the drunk girl from before says, dancing happily.

Rarity buries her face in one hand, cradling her drink close in the other. She’s turning red, the once-proud diva of the party suddenly shrinking small.

“Damn straight we are,” Applejack says, finding her swagger again. She nudges Rarity, nodding proudly. “Right, Rares?”

Rarity peeks out above her hand to scowl at Applejack – her ears are red, too, which makes Rainbow Dash giggle – and forces words out through grit teeth. “Applejack...”

Applejack stares back at her, cocking one eyebrow like a little kid. Does she really have no idea?

Geez, I thought she did that on purpose.

Rainbow Dash shakes her head – AJ is in for it now. Dash slips out of the room as others leave, before the shit really hits the fan.

See, that’s why you can’t get all tied up over one girl – you get dumb.

Exactly. Although it was pretty funny to see AJ choking so bad. She’d been waiting for something to stick it to the farm girl with, and this was just too perfect. Maybe she’d even lay some wisdom down for the poor girl.

She needs to take her mind off that lacy stuck-up thing. She needs distraction. In a female way. Awwwww yeah cue The Dash swooping in.

No, no, goddammit, stop! She almost slaps her own forehead, but her hands are full of beer. A promise is a promise. Rainbow Dash IS her word, no doubt about it. Maybe it was a grudgingly made promise, maybe it was a promise she wasn’t totally, a hundred percent sure she should’ve made, but it was still a promise and she was going to keep it, dammit.

Unless.

No don’t you even.

Spitfire is down the hall, chatting up... it doesn’t matter who, it’s freaking Spitfire.

Where’s Twilight?

Somewhere else. Still gone. Probably whining at Fluttershy that Dash looked at a girl once.

You should be freaking happy she’s so into you.

Just gonna talk. Just joke around a little, nothing serious.

No stop stop what are you doing

Nothing. Just talking, right? And then she’s next to Spitfire, hovering just near enough to get the captain’s attention. Spitfire notices her mid-drink, smiling and sliding out of her chat to face Dash.

Rainbow Dash throws her an upward nod, smirking the whole time. “So... you wanted a shot, huh?”

Spitfire can’t roll her eyes fast enough. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.” She’s still smiling, though.

“Hey, it’s cool,” Dash says, stretching and flexing her arms. “No big deal, I’m used to it.”

“Where’s your friend?” Spitfire asks.

“Oh, uh... bathroom, I think?” Dash looks around quickly – no Twilight. Safe for now. “Don’t worry about her too much, we’re kind of on the outs.”

Spitfire raises a bemused eyebrow – Seriously? You’re gonna try this?

Rainbow Dash ignores it. “Just sayin’, you know, if I wasn’t taken right now...”

Spitfire slowly shakes her head, putting a surprisingly tender hand on Dash’s arm. “Rainbow Dash...”

Don’t freak out don’t freak out stay cool, just staaaaaay cool

It’s hard, but Dash manages – none of the butterflies in her chest make it up to her smug smirk.

Spitfire shakes her head one last time, patting Dash on the shoulder. “You’re just digging yourself deeper.”

“‘Cause, you know, I could talk to her, and... wait, what?”

“I was proud of you,” Spitfire says, already looking around for someone else to talk to. “Looks like you aren’t quite there yet.”

And then she’s gone again, but this time Rainbow Dash doesn’t stare after her – she looks at her, sees her go, but it’s different this time.

Part of her wants to chase after Spitfire – that must be it, she’s just playing hard to get, right? And if it wasn’t Spitfire, she might have. Follow her in a few strong steps, grab her hand, maybe just kiss her right then and show her how wrong she is, maybe loudly tell her how good a fuck she’s missing out on instead.

But it’s Spitfire. The Captain.

Dash shrugs, taking a long, desperate swig of beer. So what?

You still have Twilight.

She almost shudders. She stalks deeper into the party, looking for someone else, anyone else. It’s not that Twilight’s bad or anything... she’s not, really. Really? She’d be great if she would just chill out. That clingy, lovey, cutey stuff is a little more fun than it has any right to be sometimes, Dash will very grudgingly and secretly admit. But at the same time, it’s like... ugh.

Tied down. Boxed in. Some other word like that... smothered? Rainbow Dash is a bird, dammit, because for some reason she always imagines herself soaring with wings somehow, and she’s the coolest, fastest bird out there, she just knows it, and she doesn’t have time to slow down.

Not yet.

She turns a corner, drifting towards music so loud you can’t hear much but the bass. There’s screaming and whooping and the unmistakable noise of bodies dancing somewhere in this house, and Dash is gonna find it.

There, next room over, gotta be. She walks up to the door, barely getting a glimpse inside before a bouncing ball of pink comes flying out into her, sweating and breathless and jittering with energy.

“Ow, what the hell?” Rainbow Dash says, stumbling backwards and spilling beer all over the floor.

“Whoopsies! Super sorry!” The girl bounces and grins, not looking even a little bit sorry.

Dash gets ready to say something mean, but then she looks up – the girl doesn’t look sorry, but not in a bad way. Like, in a... way too happy to be anything but happy kind of way.

“It’s cool,” Dash says, openly eyeing her up – kinda pudgy. Again, in a good way. Curvy.

Yeah, but hotpants with suspenders. For real?

Dash can’t tell what the girl’s costume is supposed to be. She has a plastic chicken beak stuck to her nose, and goofy bright green plastic glasses perched high on her mop of pink curls.

“Ooooh, I like your hair!” the curvy girl says, darting both hands up into Dash’s hair and leaning in close, inspecting it closely.

“Agh!” It doesn’t hurt – this girl is taller than Dash, almost a head taller, picking through her multi-colored locks like a chimp grooming. “Yeah, it’s awesome, I know,” Dash says, pushing the girl away and not-accidentally-at-all brushing her hand down one big, bouncy breast.

Wow. Soft.

“I think I’ve seen you around!” the girl says, beaming a huge grin at Dash and bouncing in place. “No, I’ve definitely seen you around, but I don’t think we’ve ever really met, which is weird because I’ve met like, everybody, and I keep seeing you at parties and stuff but I never seem to catch your name which is double weird because...”

Dash stops listening, but she keeps nodding along with the rhythmic bouncing of this girl’s chest – it’s hypnotic.

Not bad. Anyway...

She starts to walk past the girl, but the breasts hop to the side and block her path. Rainbow Dash tries to walk around, and the breasts follow her, jiggling to the side. Dash sighs, sinking her shoulders.

“You gonna get outta my way now?” Dash says, glaring at the owner of the breasts.

“You look pretty frowny-faced,” she says, posing in a mockery of seriousness.

Rainbow Dash smirks a little. Maybe she is... frowny-faced.

What is this little kid bullshit?

Heh. Frowny-faced.

“Yeah, maybe I am. So what?” Dash says.

“Oh come on, this is a party!” she says, making one final, huge jump in place. “What would it take to turn that frown...” she traces her fingers up Dash’s cheeks, “Upside down?”

This is the dumbest – who is she? WHAT is she?

And yet Dash’s lips, against all orders, are straining up at the corners a bit.

“Oh there it is!” the girl says, lighting up and gasping with joy. “I see that dashing little smirk!”

Dash rolls her eyes, forcing a scowl back into place.

“Whaaaaaat? Come on, you look sooooooo pretty when you smile!”

“Yeah, probably,” Dash says, “But it’s gonna take a whole lot more than that.”

“Like what?” She pouts, ready to be determined.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Dash says, letting her eyes settle on the breasts in question. “A good fuck would probably do it.”

The girl looks shocked for a mere microsecond, and then she doesn’t get mad, or walk away, or get embarrassed. Instead, she fixes Dash with a downright sultry grin and pushes her own breasts up with her hands, squeezing her shirt tight around them.

“Oh, you like these, huh?” she says.

Dash jolts, her hair practically standing on-end. That was supposed to scare the stupid girl away, dammit. What, is every girl on this campus gay?

Maybe just Dash-sexual. Heh.

“You wanna touch ‘em?” the girl says, her cheeks flushed just enough to be unbelievably cute.

“Bu wha what?”

“Usually boys wanna touch ‘em, but I like your hair,” she says, burning Dash with half-lidded eyes. “And your smile.”

Rainbow Dash takes pause. She does want to touch them, after all.

“It’s okay, they don’t bite! Unless maybe like this!” She pulls them apart and mashes them back together, like a fleshy pair of mandibles. “Hee hee! Om nom nom!”

“Pffffft what the hell?” Dash says, giggling.

“Watch out! They’re gonna get you!” she says, darting forward and holding herself right in Dash’s face.

“Okay, chill out, crazy,” Dash says, cradling two beers in one hand and pushing her back. With her free hand on one glorious boob, of course.

She lets it stay there, resting it on the warm, soft curve. Not bad. Not bad at all.

And man, blue eyes. Alright, she’s pretty hot. Not my usual speed, but hot.

“There, better already!” the girl says, happily letting Dash feel her up. “I bet we could do a lot better than that, though.”

“Oh yeah?” Dash says, her imagination taking a few pretty intense leaps. She squeezes, just a little, just appreciating the heft.

“If you like these, I bet you’d love my –”

“PINKIE!”

They both jump in place, Rainbow Dash shooting her hand down to her side. She turns around to see...

Oh. Oh, goddammit.

Twilight is at the end of the hall, and if it was possible for the world’s cutest nerd to be blowing steam through her nostrils, she’d be blowing holes in the floor.

“Twilight!” the curvy girl yells happily.

“Wait, you know her?” Dash asks, to either of them.

“She’s my roommate,” Twilight growls. “What in Equestria were you doing, Dash?”

“Dash?” Pinkie blinks a few times. “Dash! Oh, you must be Rainbow Dash! Of course, with the hair and the –” Pinkie halts mid-word, clapping her hands to her mouth. “...ohmygosh I am so, so, sooooooooooooooo sorry Twilight.”

Twilight just points down the hall. Pinkie scurries away, shuffling like a little kid caught stealing cookies.

Crap. Crap crap crap I didn’t even really cheat on her crap.

Dash sighs and stares at her shoes. She hears Twilight stomping over, doesn’t even bother trying the It’s not what it looks like or the She made me do it or even the So... threesome?

“Five minutes!” Twilight yells. “Five freaking minutes and I catch you feeling up my roommate?!”

“...I held on to your beer.”

Twilight throws her hands up, apparently not impressed. She looks like she’s about to go on a ranting, yelling marathon, but she just anxiously holds her head in her hands instead.

“I know you aren’t gonna believe me, but...”

“You don’t even...!” Twilight yells, sounding on the edge of tears. “You don’t, you just don’t and I am being so stupid.”

“Don’t what?”

“Care about me!” Twilight screams.

Dash licks her lips and stares past her, at nothing. This is it – put up or shut up.

Do I?

“Of course I do,” she says.

Twilight laughs once, cruel and broken. “Then why... why?!” she holds her hands out, where Pinkie was standing.

Rainbow Dash rolls her eyes – play it cool, coast and glide, she’ll listen. “We didn’t even do anything. I don’t even know that girl, I swear.”

“I can’t... No, I can’t, I just can’t do this,” Twilight says, shaking her head and retracting into her own mad little world. “I want to, I’m sorry and I still want to but I just can’t.”

Rainbow Dash growls to herself – it was cute, sometimes, but enough is enough.

What the crap, I didn’t even get laid. All the fallout and none of the fun.

Twilight snaps out of it, staring at Rainbow Dash with deadly purpose. “I’m serious. I really am this time.”

“Oh, for the... don’t even start with that ‘Strike three’ crap, would you just let me –”

THWACK

Rainbow Dash’s jaw drops – no, it falls open, violently pushed to it’s new location with the rest of her face.

Her cheek stings. Her actual cheek, not the sexy one.

“Did you just...?” Dash whispers, smiling inside.

Twilight is holding her trembling hand out, staring at it, completely aghast. She’s beautiful, actually, just like back when Rainbow Dash felt a stinging snap on her naked ass and turned around to see...

I don’t know, that was better. This is... huh.

Twilight glances up and down a few times, the trembling in her hand slowly leaking out to the rest of her body.

“Wow,” Dash says, rubbing her face. “You... are you serious?”

“I have to go,” Twilight blurts out. “I have to... I have to return some library books.”

And then suddenly Dash feels angry somehow, feels it well up out of nowhere and take over her slightly-numb mouth. “Fine. Good,” she says, hating every word of it. “I’ve got hotter girls than you lined up.”

She gets just the briefest glimpse of Twilight crumbling, lips quivering and pulling her chin in tight, before her (ex) girlfriend turns and quickly walks away, hiding her face down low.

Rainbow Dash scoffs. There? Was that so hard? You can’t cage this badass bird, and if Twilight can’t deal with that, Twilight’s gotta go.

She stands alone, two beers still cinched in her now-stiff fingers. Yeah, that’s it... party. On the prowl. She looks around, at a dark, smelly, dingy house full of muted noise and people she barely knows, people who happily, thankfully don’t give two fucks about her, about who or how many people she does.

Yeah.

Party.


• • •


She doesn’t understand.

She never has, really. I mean, how long has she known Rarity now? Going on plenty of years. They’d gone to school together, sure, so classmates is what they were. For a while, anyway, until... well, until Applejack dropped out. So classmates they weren’t.

But Applejack still saw Rarity plenty. More of a running into her here and there kinda thing. They hadn’t talked much for some time after... that, but when it did start again it was just like before.

They weren’t friends. Applejack was sure of that.

I mean, here they were, knowing each other for years, and Rarity comes taggin’ along to this party with Fluttershy. Fluttershy, who she practically just met. Applejack isn’t sure how or where it happened, but she does know that Rarity spends all kinds of time with this new girl. It’s different, too – Rarity is always trying to get in with the college crowd, but this is different. Her and Fluttershy, they’re friends.

They don’t fight every time they talk. They don’t bicker and groan, taking little shots at each other at every chance. They meet for tea or go to the spa, even if it is a long drive a few towns over. When Rarity sees Fluttershy, she smiles and her eyes light up and she greets her proper.

Fluttershy! How good to see you!

She doesn’t turn dramatically at the sound of Fluttershy’s voice, lowering her eyelids and peering down her perfect nose.

Oh, Fluttershy. How good to see you.

She might as well just come out and say it plain.

Oh. It’s YOU again.

Applejack tightens her grip on the beer in her hand, denting the cheap plastic. She downs most of what’s left of it. Beer is good. You know where you stand with beer.

“Excuse me?”

Applejack looks up, but it wasn’t for her. There’s a guy trying to whisper something in Rarity’s ear, muttering and leaning into her, barely staying on his feet. She smiles and gracefully pushes him away.

How is she smiling? I’d be knocking that guy on his ass.

The smile never leaves – poised and perfect.

“Excuse me, but when I said I lived off-campus that was not an open invitation,” she says, paying the boy no more mind.

“That is so cool,” a girl, clearly an adoring fan, says to Rarity. “Having your own place, yeah?”

They both pause, watching the drunk kid shuffle off from whence he came.

“Mmm... yes, yes it is... cool,” Rarity says, and only Applejack notices the strain behind her eyes.

It ain’t because of that guy, is it? Why I’ll learn him a thing or two if it is.

Ain’t right, these college guys. Slobberin’ over her just because she’s pretty, bunch of drooling horndogs. She finishes her drink, holding back the urge to toss it hard against the floor – she’d want it to shatter, but it’s just a flimsy red cup.

Ain’t right.

“Oh you mean on... that’s right above that dress shop, isn’t it?” the girl says.

Rarity nods, but the strain is there again.

Why?

Applejack just doesn’t get it.

“Why yes, it’s –” Rarity starts to say.

“Oh, I KNEW I’d seen you somewhere before!” the girl says, snapping her fingers. She’s pretty, and dressed like some kind of Egyptian Princess, complete with plenty of dangling jewelry that dances with every move. “You work there!”

Everybody else sees Rarity nodding, still smiling, nothing wrong at all.

Applejack sees the cracks at the edges of her lips, the racing thoughts in her eyes, the still panic of a deer turning it’s ears towards the scope of a gun.

“I design,” Rarity says simply.

She doesn’t understand. Rarity should be proud of it, dammit. Applejack is proud of her – it was something they had in common, she’d come to realize. Young women of business. Owners of businesses, even. Ain’t nobody but Rarity could keep a dress shop afloat in a town like this out of sheer grit and hard work.

She keeps listening, and Rarity keeps dancing around it. It’s awful, undignified, makes no sense – Rarity, hiding her true colors to fit in with these... ugh. These kids.

She just can’t stand it.

“She owns the place, you know,” Applejack cuts in. “Shoot, why you bein’ so modest Rarity?”

She’s used to the look by now, but she still doesn’t get why. Here she is, tryin’ to do Rarity a favor, and the girl is just furious.

“Wow, it’s... it’s YOUR store?” the girl asks.

“Yes!” Rarity throws her hands up in a huff. “I own the store, I live there, I work there far past full time, and I am an evening student when I have the time. I have lived in Ponyville all my life.”

The girl stares, working her mouth soundlessly.

“Happy?” Rarity glares at Applejack, sharp as diamonds.

“Sorry,” the girl says, already backing away, “I uh, didn’t mean to interrupt anything. You two–”

“Just sayin’,” Applejack says, “Ain’t interrupting.”

“No I meant–”

“You’re always just saying!” Rarity says, forgetting the other girl. “Has it ever occurred to you that I might prefer it if you said nothing?”

“Why not?” Applejack shrugs, waving at the college girl. “I mean, ain’t it worth mention... oh.”

She’s gone, shuffled off to somewhere else. Rarity’s shoulders slump, one of the only times Applejack’s ever seen her break posture.

“...I’ve had enough,” Rarity growls. “I’m going home.”

“Aw, come on,” Applejack says. She starts to hold out her drink, but realizes it’s empty. “Stick around, I’ll grab you a beer.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have–” Rarity catches herself, too, but not soon enough. “I just wanted to meet someone. Anyone. Is that too much to ask?”

“Anyone?”

“And every time I think I might be about to climb out of the tiny social pond of this one-horse town, you are there to drag me right back in,” Rarity says, jabbing a finger into Applejack’s chest right above the corset.

Heh. Ow.

“What are you even talkin’ about? Ponyville’s a hell of a place. Home is home, right?”

Rarity scowls and groans, showing off her disdain to nobody in particular. “I’m going home. I am finding Fluttershy right now and I am going home.” She deigns to give Applejack a look, with a withering sigh. “Goodnight, Applejack.”

Applejack feels like she should shrug – fine, have it your way then. Go home and leave me here all alone with nobody to talk to except these high-falutin’ college kids since Mac and ‘Shy are too busy makin’ eyes at each other.

She shudders instead.

“Aw, come on Rare.” Rarity is already prancing away – yeah, prancing, isn’t it, sliding away smooth as silk with her nose high in the air. “What the hell are you even –”

“Hmph.” Rarity barely looks her way, arms crossed, shutting her down without even needing a word.

“Dammit, Rarity, I’m just sayin’...” Applejack loses sight of her as she rounds a corner, just for an instant. “I thought you –”

“AJ!” Rainbow Dash says, appearing out of nowhere

“Whoa!” Applejack takes a stumbling step back – Rainbow Dash is blocking the door, and Rarity is nowhere to be seen. “Hey, uh, you mind?”

“Mind what?” Dash says, wavering on her feet. She smells like she’s gotten into something a lot harder than beer. “Do I mind not having your hot ass in my face? Like, right now?”

“Oh for Chrissake...” Applejack rolls her eyes, then tries to squeeze past Dash. “I’m kinda in the middle of somethin’.”

“Yeah in the middle of my legs. Or... something. Yeah,” Dash says, mumbling and slurring a little. She grabs Applejack by the belt buckle, pulling her in close.

WHOA whoa there someone’s hotter to trot than usual.

Applejack would be lying if she said it wasn’t kinda interesting – Rainbow Dash and her toned tight little body hovering hairs away from her. She feels Rainbow Dash’s other hand slide along her belt and pull at the back, right into a rough thrust of Rainbow’s hips.

“Come on, Blondie,” Dash growls, “I know you’ve been looking.”

Applejack cringes – it’s only kind of interesting. It would be a lot more than kind of, if it wasn’t for that awful look in Rainbow’s eye.

Yeah, she’s prettier when she’s happy.

Applejack pushes her away. “Where’s Twilight?”

“God, you too?” Rainbow lets her go, thankfully, sulking with her hands instead. “Why does everybody keep ASKING me that?!”

“Well I don’t think she’d like what you’re doin’,” Applejack says, trailing off when she notices Rainbow Dash mimicking her like a teenager.

Ugh, Apple Bloom ever does that I’ll smack her right across that cute bow in her hair.

Well, honestly, she wouldn’t. Wouldn’t dare ever hit that poor girl. Course, Rainbow Dash isn’t Apple Bloom. Smiling sideways, Applejack gives Dash a playful slap up the side of her head.

“Ow!” Rainbow Dash says it, but her body doesn’t seem to notice otherwise. “KNEW you liked it rough.”

Awful. Awful, awful, this is just awful – she likes Rainbow Dash well enough. Actually, truth be told, she likes Rainbow Dash way more than that. But seeing her like this...

“Cut it out, you birddog,” AJ says, pushing back another drunk advance from Dash. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Whatever,” Dash says, back to sulking teenager. “She isn’t my wife. And you’re not my mom.”

Alright, not funny anymore. Where’s Rarity?

“So are we gonna do it or what?” Rainbow Dash says, as unsexily as possible.

Applejack shakes her head.

Oh how the hot have fallen...

“I gotta go,” Applejack says, glancing down the cramped hallway.

“Fine. Go,” Dash says, still sulking. Like she saw this coming anyway.

“Aw, don’t be like that...” Applejack puts a hand on her shoulder – she wants to stay, to talk Dash down a bit. She really does. But... “I gotta take care of this. And then we’re gonna sit down and have ourselves a talk.”

Rainbow Dash shrugs her hand away, hands deep in her pockets.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” she says, leaving Rainbow Dash alone in the doorway. It hurts to leave her hanging.

But you take ‘em as you can, right?

Rarity freaked out first. Just flag her down real quick.

Gotta find her first. Applejack shuffles past loud idiots, all talking about nothing, but doesn’t see the loud idiot she’s looking for.

Why?

She said she was lookin’ for Fluttershy. But where the heck is Fluttershy even?

Why the hell are you looking for her?

Well... because. Just because, that’s all. Have to talk to her. Have to set things right.

Every time you talk to her it ends up like this anyway.

The house is a dark, cramped maze, all paths lined with brats holding too much of their parents’ money. No hope or sense looking for Rarity in here.

Heh, needle in a haystack?

Naw, come on. That ain’t fair.

She ain’t like them.

Outside! Either which way, they’re gonna end up outside. Cut ‘em off at the pass, that’s the way. Applejack stumbles and pushes her way out until she practically falls out the front door, crisp autumn air stinging her nostrils. She blinks in the dim light of streetlamps, her ears thudding with with echoes of awful music.

There, much better. Now all she’s got to do is wait, and sure enough Rarity’ll come out of that party, probably still got her arms crossed and nose high, all fuming and indignant. Probably getting Mac to give her a ride.

Ugh, eww. Over my dead body.

Correction, probably getting Fluttershy to tell Mac to drive them all home, because that big lug is, was, and always will be a sucker for pretty girls. No way in hell Rarity would be walking home alone, all sad grace and class like a fancy widow, stumbling and tripping along the cracked and pot-holed sidewalk in high heels hidden by her long, elegant gown.

Oh.

Oh, crap.

Goddamn wigs, goddamn dress, showin’ off her bits like that... she NEVER dresses like that.

Applejack hurries to catch up, not quite jogging. She sees Rarity’s shoulders slump with a heavy sigh, sees her slow down at Applejack’s loud footsteps coming up behind her.

She matches Rarity’s pace, hovering just behind and to her side. Rarity doesn’t stop, grimly walking on.

Applejack swallows, and to her it sounds loud. Her mouth is full of cotton all of a sudden, dry and scratchy and strangely numb.

“Well?” Rarity says, not turning around. “I don’t suppose you think you’re going to walk me home?”

Applejack ignores the jab, for once. “I thought you were gonna go find ‘Shy, and... you know, Mac. Truck.”

Rarity finally stops, and Applejack almost bumps into her.

“I didn’t want to bother them,” Rarity says, fussing with her hair. “It’s awful, once you see them. I couldn’t bring myself to end their night early.”

Applejack nods and smirks – yup, that sounds about right. Fluttershy has a way about her, no doubt about it. “So what, you’re walkin’?”

Rarity raises an eyebrow, and those perfect lips of hers form a subtle downward curve – haughty, imperious, skepticism from the noblest of noble women.

“Yeah, I know it ain’t far, but you know... it’s late,” Applejack offers, haltingly rubbing at the back of her neck.

Rarity’s raised eyebrow gets sharper before she pulls her wig off with a most-ladylike Oh, to hell with it grunt. Her long, violet tresses are folded and pinned flat, better to be hidden under the trashy black wig now piled up in her hands. She shakes her head a few times, lazily, and sends a few stray strands loose.

“...I know you’re sore at me,” Applejack says, fighting to find her breath again.

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Rarity says, back to slashing Applejack with her eyes.

“Come on, Rarity,” Applejack says, sounding far more fed-up than she meant to. “Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be walkin’ home alone. That’s just good sense.”

Rarity doesn’t roll her eyes – only because she doesn’t have to, naturally. Hers is a far more fluent set of facial expressions, as varied and potent as a trained actress. With a look that has no need for anything so obvious as eye-rolling, she slaps the wig into Applejack’s stomach.

“Oof!” Applejack says, more out of surprise than anything else. She catches the wig and then Rarity is off again, slowly making her way down the sidewalk through the dim circles of streetlamps.

Applejack catches up and stays at Rarity’s side, and they walk like that, past worn-down houses and spray-painted benches and gnarled, leafless trees, their roots tearing huge cracks and hills through the weathered sidewalk.

It’s quiet, as soon as they’ve drifted away from the campus. The houses along the edges of it are always lively, rented by students or owned by the college itself. But once you’re past that? Dead and quiet and hollowed out, even on a late Halloween night.

It’s strange. Applejack remembers trick-or-treating on these streets, seeing crowds of kids just like her running around and laughing. She even went out with Rarity once, when they were much younger. Before. Applejack was a scarecrow, and Rarity was a princess.

Of course.

What was it she said?

I require a prince. I suppose you shall have to do, Applejack.

It had only been a little less awkward than tonight had ended up.

“Alright, I’ll ask,” Rarity says.

“Huh?”

“Why are you following me?” Rarity asks, again not looking over. She looks like she’s talking to herself, quiet and wistful and a little glum. “It doesn’t make any sense. You’re always so mean to me.”

Applejack balks, squeezing the cheap wig so hard her knuckles pop. “Mean to you? Seems to me it’s self-defense half the time. Why are you always on my case?”

“Well if it was your intention to drive me out of that party and then try to confuse me, bravo. You’ve won,” she says, making a few sincerely sarcastic golf-claps.

“I’d say I did you a favor,” Applejack growls. “Buncha stuck-up frat boys and divas in there.”

“Oh and I suppose you can find more refined company.” Rarity shakes her head. “I’d rather be hit on by a drunk oaf or two than hang around and watch you... I don’t know, shoot things? Dip chew, or whatever that was?”

“It’s snuff, and that was only the one time!”

“Disgusting,” Rarity sneers. “You know I’m glad Granny Smith walloped your hide, or however she put it, because seeing you spitting like that made me want to throw up.”

Applejack cringes, flashing back to the fourteen-year-old who had thought any of that was a good idea. Granny hadn’t walloped her, oh no – she’d made Applejack finish off the can all at once, sucking and spitting until she puked so long and so hard she thought she would die. She remembers the shame, holding her daddy’s hat and choking through the tears how sorry she was and she’d never –

Wait, what... how?

Applejack shakes it off – that was years ago.

Dammit, Rarity, makin’ me feel all... stuff.

“What, like you're any better?” Applejack says, smirking as that mean, delicious thrill of winning fills her thoughts. “You make me come hang out with you, and what do we do? Hours gettin’ ourselves gussied up –”

“Not another word!” Rarity growls, picking up pace.

“Just so’s I can watch you throw yourself at that... that...” Applejack pauses, because Rarity is hitting her as she tries to walk away, flinging a fist over and over again into Applejack’s leather jacket. It does nothing. “Throw yourself at that waste of space, and then I gotta hold your head up while you cry all night because he ain’t–”

“Stop that AT ONCE,” Rarity yells, her chin pouting from behind her haughty pose. “Ugh, why do I even talk to you?!”

Suddenly, winning ain’t so fun. Applejack slumps on her feet, still walking but...

That was low.

Not fair. We was all sixteen once, and hell, Applejack had thrown herself at a guy or two, before she... figured things out.

Ahem.

Rarity is making a point of hovering just far enough way.

She’s right.

“...Sorry,” Applejack says quietly.

Rarity doesn’t respond. She’s got her arms crossed again, or... curled tight around herself? Is she shivering?

Applejack takes a deep breath, and it’s plenty crisp enough to sting her lungs pleasantly. And Rarity – it’s a hell of a dress, alright, thin and sheer and flowing flush down her curves, the front cut low and skin, miles of pale, flawless...

Applejack tears her eyes away.

She’s freezing and all you can do is drool at her. You low-down scoundrel.

She takes her jacket off, being careful not to drop the wig – Rarity probably made it herself, or at least bought it somewhere expensive. She holds the jacket out to Rarity, bumping her arm with it.

Rarity glances at it and practically recoils in disgust. “Eww? No.”

“Oh come off it, that dress is a silly little wisp of a thing.”

“That jacket smells.”

“Just put it on,” Applejack groans, and to her surprise Rarity does take it. She drapes it over her shoulders like a shawl, holding the front tightly closed, and despite the absence of the rare sight of Rarity’s lovely cleavage, Applejack feels pretty good.

It is a bit chilly out. Applejack likes it, but that’s – well, she doesn’t mind wearin’ little for a hot day’s work, but this corset is a little much. Her big, freckled shoulders are bare and she feels strangely naked.

It’s the lack of hat, really. Fluttershy and Rarity had gushed and wheedled and begged until Applejack agreed to the costume, but she drew the line at a crown or tiara or whatever the hell that thing was Rarity was tryin’ to get her to wear. Had to offer up no-hat in return, but that’s just how it goes sometimes.

Yeah, keep tellin’ yourself that.

Alright, fine, so maybe she ain’t a thin, pretty little thing like Rarity. Maybe she’s got big hips and broad shoulders and solid muscle, like a working girl does. She knew when Rarity squeezed her into that corset and told her she looked stunning that she was just bein’ nice, bein’ generous and gracious because she’s too much a lady to be anything else.

But boy, feelin’ her slender fingers work that measuring tape...

Stop that. Just cut that out right now, no sense in even thinkin’ it.

This was a mistake.

It was. But they’re almost there – the houses around them are slowly giving way to townhouses and storefronts, and downtown is just around the corner.

That’s right, bring her home, bid her goodnight, and that is that.

She dares to throw a glance at Rarity – wearing that jacket elegantly somehow, pointedly not returning Applejack’s look. This is what always happens, whenever she spends any kind of time at all around Rarity. A long, silent walk and a bunch of huffy looks and at the end it’s Applejack, alone, knowin’ she must’ve done something wrong and never knew what it was.

Maybe it’s for the best. They’ve made it to what passes for a downtown in Ponyville, and it’s pretty grim even in Applejack’s eyes. Maybe Rarity is right – maybe she does need to get out of this town, go far away to some fancy big city where she can live her dreams instead of just being in –

An empty sleeve brushes Applejack’s arm, and she is shocked to see Rarity actually walking next to her. Not with her, exactly, but not just far enough away to communicate disdain, either.

Progress, of a kind.

But then they stop. Large glass windows loom in front of them, shadows of racks and mannequins peering out. The words CAROUSEL BOUTIQUE are painted on the glass in florid curves.

Boy, she did clean up the place nice, didn’t she?

That had been a good day. Applejack had helped her with some of the heavy lifting. She tries, really tries, not to remember Rarity, leaning in close, picking bits of plaster out of Applejack’s hair.

“Well,” Rarity says, as if the word stood on its own. She doesn’t move to take the jacket off, doesn’t move much at all other than to stare at Applejack’s boots.

“...Yeah,” Applejack says.

What else IS there to say?

“Thank you, I suppose,” Rarity says grudgingly. “What about you?”

“I’ll be fine,” Applejack says.

“Don’t be ridiculous, let me call you a cab, or at least...”

“Quit fussin’ over me,” Applejack says, and in her head it sounds low and weak, like begging.

Rarity sniffs haughtily – obviously it sounded different outloud. “Fine, be that way. That’s just another shot at me, isn’t it? You’d want me to feel awful if something happened to you.”

Applejack says nothing – she just feels her chest sinking into itself, pulling the corners of her mouth down into a weary grimace.

I didn’t mean it like that, god, why does this always happen?

Rarity shifts her weight from leg to leg, looking impatient or anxious or maybe just plain old pissed off, Applejack can’t tell. She never could tell.

The moment stretches on, and Rarity is about to turn up her nose and walk inside, Applejack can feel it, just like every time before, and there it is, that one last turn of her foot and then –

“Why?” Applejack feels herself say.

Rarity freezes, and Applejack does, too.

“...Excuse me?” Rarity says.

“You and them college kids,” Applejack says, feeling a vise around her chest loosen a little. “You’re never gonna be like them.”

Rarity’s eyes narrow, and she opens her mouth for what must surely be a razor-sharp retort.

Dammit, dammit, dammit!

“That’s not –!” Applejack says, holding her hands up. “I didn’t mean it like... you know, like that.”

Rarity slowly raises an eyebrow as the anger drains from her face – she gives Applejack a long, curious look, the kind one would usually use on a child.

Then what did you mean? Use your words, darling.

She tries, but it’s hard. Like it’s too big to choke out.

What, you gonna give up?

Applejack grits her teeth and goes for it, because dammit it’s gotta be done. “You’re better than them. All of ‘em,” she says. “I just don’t get it, watchin’ you lower yourself like that.”

“Lower myself?”

“Yeah, lower,” Applejack says. “You bend yourself all over tryin’ to fit in with them and they ain’t even worth the... the...”

...Spit on your boots?

Normally she’d be happy to say something that might get a rise outta Rarity, but right now it just feels wrong.

Rarity is staring at her – still curious, maybe more so, so much her mouth is hanging open a little.

It’s awful. Applejack take a turn staring at shoes, bowing her head. “And they don’t even – you know, they don’t even see you. You show ‘em your best and they see that, but they don’t see you,” she says, not even sure what she’s saying anymore, choking on the edges of words. “They don’t see you scrimping and saving for years. Painting this place and fixin’ it up, runnin’ it all on your lonesome. Keeping it open, doin’ whatever you gotta do even with times bein’ tough.”

Rarity’s mouth moves, but it’s a token effort.

“And they don’t see...”

There are years and years of memories that Applejack can’t put words to, just weird bits of feelings threatening to put water in the corners of her eyes. Sure, Rarity can be a high-falutin’ fussy pain in the ass, but... then there’s Rarity, working her heart out making costumes for the school play. Rarity donating her hair, cutting off those long locks she’s so damn proud of and giving ‘em up.

Rarity making a girl feel pretty when she didn’t know she could be anything close to the word.

It’s enough to make Applejack not realize she’s been standing there for whole seconds, chewing on her own teeth.

“Applejack?”

Rarity snaps her out of it. Applejack looks up, and Rarity is wholly different – huddled under the jacket instead of tolerating it, bearing a sweet, careful, hopeful little smile.

“You know...” Rarity says quietly. “I really thought you didn’t like me anymore.”

Applejack snorts loudly. Her first instinct is to buck wild.

Who said I do?

But she can’t lie. “I don’t... I mean I don’t... you know, I don’t not like you,” she says, sheepishly rubbing the back of her neck.

“I see.” Rarity nods to herself, seeming to think her words through carefully. “Well, I don’t dislike you either.”

“Oh?”

“No.” Rarity’s sweet little smile grows, just a bit, a flickering candle flaring to life. “I should say I don’t dislike you very much, actually.”

Applejack can’t help but smile back. “Oh... that’s somethin’ I guess.”

That’s it? Something?

She never was very good with words – Rarity can weave them together almost as well as a bolt of fine fabric. She’d probably take all these damn feelings and work ‘em into a poem that’d have ladies swooning and hard old men shedding a tear or two.

But Applejack just stands there, trying not to meet Rarity’s eyes. She knows she’d fall into them.

Say something say something no LEAVE

She should go, she knows she should go, all the things she wants to say, has wanted to say for a long time now, are stupid.

Drop it. Just DROP it.

She doesn’t move an inch. That is, until she feels, sees just on the edge of her vision, Rarity lean a little bit closer.

“I should get goin’” Applejack says, turning to walk away.

“What?” Rarity moves with her, not letting her just walk away. “Why don’t you stay awhile?”

That gets her – Applejack freezes on her feet, willing herself not to believe it. “...Huh?”

“I feel so awful,” Rarity says, and she really means it, she has to. That sad, beautiful tone in her voice, so far from the airs she puts on sometimes – that can’t be lying.

“Well, shoot,” Applejack says. “I mean... ain’t all your fault. I’ve been kind of a pill, sometimes.”

“Hmm, yes, you have,” Rarity says, mean glee momentarily sparkling in her eyes. “But it feels like forever since we really talked.”

Applejack stares, and can’t think to do much more than blink. Certainly not breathe.

“Come upstairs? I’ll make us some... hmm, I don’t actually know what I have right now. I’ll make us something,” Rarity says. She takes both Applejack’s hands in her own, pulling her by the wig.

“Jeez, I dunno Rarity, I mean it’s awful late...”

“Oh, I see. I can’t walk home alone, but you’re going to go traipsing around Ponyville in that?”

“Come off it, I’ll be fine,” Applejack growls.

“I won’t allow it. A beautiful young woman such as yourself should not be going about unescorted. That’s just good sense,” Rarity says, dropping her affected bits of accent on the last words.

Applejack glares at her – she knows Rarity doesn’t mean it, of course, just trying to get a rise out of her with all this pretty business.

“Stop being stupid.” Rarity pulls her along, and somehow, Applejack follows. “Yes, I get it, you’re stubborn and tough and you can handle yourself and other such things.”

“Well I can,” Applejack says.

“Has it occurred to you that I am inviting you in because I might enjoy your company? Rather than it being an attempt to patronize you, I mean.”

Applejack had not dared to let it occur to her. Still seemed a risky proposition, honestly. She grunts something vaguely affirmative as Rarity leads her, grudgingly stomping her feet as she follows. Rarity fumbles with her keys –

Now where was she even keeping those?

A few ideas present themselves and Applejack bucks them out of her head before they make her blush. This is just, you know, two friends. Hanging out. Talking.

Oh, so we’re friends now?

Sure. Sounds good, sounds right. Hell, Applejack should be counting her lucky stars for having a friend like Rarity.

They go in a door to the side of the Boutique and up a dark, creaky set of stairs. Rarity’s apartment is the second floor of the building, Applejack remembers dimly – she hasn’t really been here since Rarity got the place, and even then she hadn’t been up here. They’d started arguing about something stupid just as the work downstairs had been finished, so Applejack missed the traditional moving-in after party.

“Welcome, to my humble abode!” Rarity says theatrically, holding the door open for Applejack.

She takes a deep breath and steps through. It’s small, smaller than she expected somehow, and it should feel cramped. But leave it to Rarity to take a dingy old apartment and do it up like a palace.

“Ah! Wipe your feet, please,” Rarity says.

Applejack catches herself and does so with only token grumbling.

“I’ll just be a moment,” Rarity says, disappearing down a narrow hallway. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

Applejack glances around, far from comfortable – here she is, in the den of the lion. She’s had dreams and nightmares centered on this place before, but none of them looked even a little bit like this.

It’s small, she thinks again. She’s in what could pass for a living room, dominated by the fanciest couch she’s ever seen at one end. It’s crowded otherwise with what can only be bits of projects, mannequins and tables and cloth waiting to be crafted. A crooked counter marks off a cramped kitchen, and that’s pretty much it.

Huh. Looks way bigger downstairs.

She moves towards the couch and almost trips over something white and fluffy. It stretches and yawns and glares at her, and Applejack swears she hears a low growl.

Cat. Of COURSE she has a cat.

She steps over it, carefully, like one would step over a puddle of vomit. The couch is as artistic as the work downstairs, all red velvet and gold trim and curves and spirals. She sits on it gingerly, not relaxing so much as trying to be very still so as not to break anything.

It’s more comfortable than she thought.

Small, though. Guess it would be a loveseat? Naw, it’s Rarity’s, probably got some dumb fancy name for it. Sofa, or divan, or somesuch.

She chuckles quietly. Here and there, among the ongoing projects, there are glimpses of a tastefully decorated, spacious room – an end table is graced with a perfectly sparse bunch of flowers in a vase. Framed pictures are on the walls at perfectly-spaced intervals.

Something warm and soft and purring rubs against her leg, and Applejack gags and shifts away. The cat glares up at her, still purring somehow, and curls up on one cushion.

Applejack glares back.

Ugh, even her CAT is fancy.

“How does tea sound?” Rarity says, walking back down the hall –

Good GOLLY.

Wearing a pink, fluffy bathrobe. Her hair has been let loose and then tamed again, tied up in a simple ponytail with stray tendrils left as they will. Applejack slams her eyes down and of course the slippers match, pink and fuzzy and her eyes can’t help but trail up long, perfectly slender legs...

“Applejack?” Rarity is rummaging around in cupboards, barely looking her way.

Applejack forces her mouth closed before anyone gets wise. “Uhh... sure.”

“Hmm, I didn’t think you would say yes. I’m afraid I’m fresh out of whiskey or cider or something a bit more to your tastes.”

Bathrobe.

Is she wearing anything under it? She’s gotta be. Right? It hugs her as she moves, outlining all kinds of curves.

“Whatever’s fine,” Applejack says.

Rarity puts a kettle on and joins Applejack, hoisting the cat into her arms while gushing a bunch of corny baby-talk at the thing. Applejack tries to ignore this, no problem, ignoring lotsa things so why not?

Oh no, she’s sitting next to me.

Well of course she is, you idiot.

Yeah but...

It’s a small couch, and she’s awful close. The cat growls and runs away the moment Rarity tries to rest it in her lap, and then it’s just the two of them.

“Do relax, Applejack,” Rarity says. She lies on her side, resting her head on the other end of the couch with a satisfied little moan. “I very much doubt you’re going to break anything.”

Applejack is sitting up ramrod straight, gripping the edge of her seat. Rarity’s curling up her legs on the couch, the tips of her slippers grazing Applejack’s thighs. Her fine behind is in plain view, just a thin stretch of bathrobe stretched tight over it.

Huh. Looks bigger than usual.

Not that Applejack had been looking, or anything.

“...Fancy couch you got here,” Applejack says.

“Ugh, please. It is a chaise lounge,” Rarity says.

Applejack clears her throat. Not looking over. Not gonna, not even gonna think about it, boy those sure are some fancy dresses she’s workin’ on up here...

“So had you met those friends of Fluttershy’s before?” Rarity says, sitting up a little, resting on one elbow, her bathrobe falling open just the tiniest bit.

Applejack clears her throat and fumbles for words. She doesn’t get any ready in time.

“That toga was almost marvelous,” Rarity goes on. “A bit duller than it had to be – I think she let historical accuracy get in the way.”

Toga? Oh, right.

“Yeah, she’s... well, Rainbow Dash is Fluttershy’s friend from way back,” Applejack says. “That’s how I know ‘em, anyway.”

“Oh goodness, Rainbow Dash,” Rarity says, with a mix of distaste and excitement. “I thought I would be fending her off along with the usual assortment of oafs. Did you see the way she was staring at my legs?”

“Heh, yeah, she’s like that.” Applejack shakes her head, but can’t help a little smile. “She’s been barking up my tree for a while now.”

“I suppose Twilight is lucky you’re straight, then,” Rarity says.

It aches inside – Applejack bites back some words. It hurts and she hates doing it, but there ain’t any sense in saying anything.

“Me, I would’ve been tempted,” Rarity says.

what

Applejack blinks. Once. Her grip tightens so hard that the chaise lounge creaks under knuckles.

“Eh, what am I saying? How desperate have I gotten?” Rarity says theatrically. “She’s clearly involved, and clearly a bad idea even were that not the case. Did you see that look in her eyes?”

Applejack weakly shakes her head, barely hearing the words.

“Trouble, that one. She’s exactly the kind of tempting I shouldn’t be looking at.”

“Hold up. Hold the dang phone,” Applejack says. “WHAT are you talkin’ about?”

Rarity shrinks in, looking a little defensive. “Well even you have to admit that Rainbow Dash has a certain air about her. Passionate, intense... and that hair. She’s right out of a bodice-ripper,” Rarity says. “A queer one, anyway,” she adds, with a smug giggle.

Applejack croaks, sliding down into the nauseous pit growing in her stomach.

What? WHAT?

The room is threatening to spin, wobbling under her feet. And when did that horse kick her in the gut?

“I did find myself feeling bad for Twilight,” Rarity goes on, oblivious. “How did you say Fluttershy knows them?”

“Wait.” Applejack struggles, digging her feet into the cheap rug. “You... you’re... like THAT?”

Rarity draws herself up, drawing on her haughty airs again. “Oh please, Applejack. You’re not going to judge me on that, of all things? I thought you were open-minded.”

AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH WHY?!

“But you and that asshole Blueblood...?!”

Rarity makes a pained noise, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Oh, don’t get me started. He’s half the reason I changed sides, ah... that is to say... hmm. Realized some things, I suppose you could say.”

Applejack’s mouth hangs open.

THIS WHOLE TIME?

Rarity raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Oh, shit...

Was that outloud?

“This whole time what?” Rarity says.

Ohhhhhhh crap crap CRAP.

“Applejack?” Rarity sits up, tucking that glorious behind underneath her.

Applejack freezes up – this can’t be true, can’t be happening.

“Applejack, what’s wrong?” Rarity says, scooting closer.

Oh nothin’, just having a mild freak out over here, please stop saying my name like that PLEASE.

“Appleja–” Rarity starts to say.

The kettle whistles, piercing the air with a long whine.

Rarity gets up. Applejack lets a long, pained breath out – close, too close.

What are you talkin’ about CLOSE? This... she...!

Her eyes follow Rarity, and that damn bathrobe, the hem dancing just above her knees. Rarity is only in the kitchen for a moment, throwing the kettle on a cool burner and coming right back.

She sits. Just as she was, no, leaning in a little closer, eyes boring into Applejack.

“...No tea?” Applejack says desperately.

“I’m surprised at you,” Rarity says. “If you really have a problem with my... orientation, then I–”

“It ain’t that,” Applejack says, trying hard not to meet her eyes. “I swear, it ain’t.”

Rarity just waits – eyebrows raised, lips slightly pouted. Bemused, like she can’t wait to hear the excuses.

“Rarity, I swear it,” Applejack says again. She stops just short of begging to be believed – she’s never felt so caught, so doubted, so...

What do I even say?

“...How come you never told me?” she asks, quietly.

“You never asked,” Rarity says huffily.

“You woulda been straight with me?” Applejack balks.

“Hmm, choice of words, dear,” Rarity says, her eyes twinkling as she smirks.

Applejack’s heart cringes and jumps – that damn voice. Always the worst when she’s bein’ clever with it.

“But I always thought you... you’re always sayin’...” Applejack tries.

“I... I’ll admit, I haven’t always been open with you,” Rarity says, all her smirks gone. “I didn’t want to give you any ammunition, I think.”

Oh. Applejack’s face falls, too. Neither says anything for a long moment – Applejack is struggling under some memories she ain’t exactly proud of, and from the look of it Rarity’s doing the same.

So they hadn’t always been friendly.

Sorry, Applejack wants to say, again. A hundred times over. This was why – why she had no chance, even knowing what she knows now.

“I’m sorry,” she hears Rarity say.

“Huh?”

“You’re right. I... well, I haven’t always been honest with you.” Rarity looks as glum as she sounds, but then her eyes light up, her whole face beaming like she always does when...

“I have an idea!” Rarity says, practically bouncing in place. She scootches closer and leans in, reaching over Applejack...

Oh holy hell in HOWDY she smells good

Just barely brushing against her. Applejack feels tugging against her belt, and when Rarity sits back up she’s holding the end of Applejack’s lasso.

Well, not her real lasso. Her real lasso is a rough and tough coil of good hard twine, hanging up in her bedroom at home. This rope is sissy nylon stuff, bright and clean, something Rarity had lying around her store.

Come to think of it, why did she have that?

“You know what’s special about this rope?” Rarity says.

“Uhh...?”

“Your costume,” Rarity says, her eyes flat.

“Oh.” Applejack has no idea what she’s on about – she was never a big comic book reader. The whole thing was Rarity and Fluttershy’s idea.

“It’s magic,” Rarity explains. “If you tie someone up with it, they have to tell the truth.”

Rarity holds one end of the rope and loops it around her wrists a few times. Then she pulls it into a loose, lazy bind, not even any knots. Applejack can’t look away – her heart is pounding against her corset, and she barely even feels it.

“There.” Rarity holds her hands up, her wrists held neatly together. “Ask away. Anything you want.”

Applejack swallows, dry and sharp. She doesn’t move.

“Oh, come on.” Rarity reaches over again and yanks the coil of rope out of Applejack’s belt, shoving it into her hands. “I’m trying, Applejack, meet me halfway.”

This... okay. This is okay. I’m game.

Applejack works the rope in her hands, like she can’t remember what it is.

Come on now, cowgirl up!

Right. She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“So...” Applejack says, clearing her throat the moment she hears her own wavering voice. “You,” she tries again, much better this time, “You’re into girls?”

“Well,” Rarity, amazingly, has a slight flush of color on her cheeks. “I’ve sampled a few lovers of the feminine persuasion, if you must know.”

“What the hell?” Applejack unconsciously pulls on the rope, yanking Rarity closer. “I saw you hittin’ on a guy a few weeks back!”

“So you’ve been watching me?” Rarity says, with a sultry smile of victory.

“Not-! Not like... dammit, Rarity...”

“Oh calm down.” Rarity tosses her hair, pulling back on the rope ever so slightly. “Perhaps I prefer one or the other, at times. What of it?”

Of all the mind-boggled emotions that jumps to the front, it’s a simmering flash of anger. Applejack crushes the rope in her hands. “And you NEVER thought to maybe say something to me?”

“And again, you never asked,” Rarity says. “If this is your way of telling me you’re interested...”

Applejack jolts, her face falling like a startled deer.

“Ah ha!” Rarity crows. “I KNEW I’d caught you staring!”

“Listen, Rarity...”

“No, no, this makes so much sense!” Rarity says. “This explains so much, it all finally makes sense now...”

“No!” Applejack says, yanking on the rope again. Rarity tenses up, casting a scared look at the binding on her wrists, and Applejack eases up. “No, it... it’s not like that...”

She doesn’t understand. It’s like her head is hard as oak, not letting even a stray thought loose. Applejack grits her teeth – this is it, all her dreams come true, or some of ‘em, anyway, and she’s seizin’ up like an angry steer.

She closes her eyes. She wants to leave, to go home and throw up and forget this ever happened, to go back to knowing it can’t happen.

She almost wants to cry.

She doesn’t – she feels something smooth against her wrists. She opens her eyes.

“What’re you doing?” Applejack says.

“Tying your hands,” Rarity says, calm and prim, as she does just that. She loops the rope around Applejack’s wrists a few times, connecting them by a short length of shiny yellow nylon.

“What, you think I’m gonna lie to you?” Applejack says.

“Never,” Rarity says instantly. “That’s not how it works, anyway.”

“Huh?”

“If you get tied up, you lose all your powers,” Rarity says.

“Wait, what?” Applejack says. “You mean like in the comics again, don’t you?”

Rarity finishes the bind and lets her own fall loose, holding her end of the rope instead. “Not that I ever read any of them. But I’ll never let it be said that a Women’s Studies class can’t be utterly fascinating.”

Applejack flexes her wrists against the rope – it ain’t nothing but show. She could easily pull out of it.

But she doesn’t, for some reason.

“So...?” Applejack says.

“You know you don’t have to be so tough all the time,” Rarity says, holding the rope like a leash. “I just want you to be honest with me.”

“I am,” Applejack says. “I always am.”

Maybe too much, sometimes.

“Yes, indeed,” Rarity says, as if she’s heard Applejack’s thoughts. “But you and I both know you can put up some walls. Very stubborn ones, at that.”

Applejack snorts loudly.

“So. No dodging. No backing down,” Rarity says, her usually soft blue eyes all business. “Are you... how shall I put this... interested in other women?”

Applejack snaps her mouth shut, looks away, does anything to try not to look so guilty.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Rarity says smugly.

“I don’t know,” Applejack spits out. “It’s not like I ever... you know.”

“Hmm.” Rarity pauses, appearing to think. “Do you find me attractive?”

Applejack’s eyes bug out. Caught, just like that.

“I see! How curious,” Rarity titters. “And all this time...”

“Not like that!” Applejack yells.

Rarity pauses, startled enough to let the rope go slack.

“I mean... not like them,” Applejack says. “Don’t get me wrong, yer prettier than... hell, Rarity, you might be the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.”

Rarity smirks and shrugs, with a Well, what was I expecting? air about her.

Applejack cringes and sucks in a breath.

Just say it. Just say it and lay it out and be done with it.

She blows it out, steeling herself up.

“I know I ain’t really your type,” she starts, feeling awful. She talks fast, eager to get it over with. “But I always... it’s dumb,” she admits, shaking her head. “I’m just some hayseed with a farm in a backwater town. You wouldn’t settle fer somethin’ like that. You shouldn’t.”

Rarity’s eyes go wide, and she covers her mouth with one hand.

“So there it is.” Applejack sulks. It feels better. Tooth pulled, old wound cleaned out, now just go home. “I don’t wanna be givin’ you the wrong idea, so’s I figured I’d just lay it out and we can move on. I can show myself out.”

She starts to get up. She feels a gentle tug at her wrists. She looks up, and Rarity’s eyes are shining, a trembling smile peeking around her hand.

“Applejack!” Rarity says, all breathless glee. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve looked at you and thought, Oh, if only?”

Applejack’s whole body gets goosebumps, every nerve at attention.

“How many times I’ve come back here after we’ve argued about something stupid, and I just... I just cried to myself, at myself, at you, at the injustice of the whole–”

Applejack’s mouth slowly falls open.

“Wondering if it was my fault,” Rarity goes on, “Being angry at you and then angry at myself for being angry at you...”

There’s no way. There’s just no way.

“And all the while I just think to myself, sometimes, that it could be so simple and then I feel foolish all over again...”

The words hurt and heal, awful and impossibly incredible, her own hidden thoughts spilling out of Rarity’s mouth somehow, and before Applejack knows it she’s done the only thing she can think of to make it better.

She darts forward and silences Rarity with her lips.

It’s just for one long, tense second, but she does it, and it’s done, and when she leans back and opens her eyes Rarity is staring at her with something short of wonder.

“I’m sorry,” Applejack blurts out. “For everything.”

Rarity returns the kiss, moving far faster than Applejack has ever seen before. She slams their lips together and Applejack barely closes her eyes in time, feeling her heart pounding now, feeling the soft touch of her skin and the ugly taste of her lipstick and it doesn’t even matter.

The first one was quick, a thing of panic. This one is a thing of beauty.

Applejack has a lot to learn. Rarity holds the kiss and makes it sing, teasing just enough with her tongue, slowly slipping her hands over Applejack’s, two pairs of hands held together close between them.

She’s forgotten to breathe. Rarity pulls back just in time, leaving Applejack to loudly gasp in great mouthfuls of air.

This is crazy. This is all crazy, can’t be real.

“Uh...” Applejack manages to say. “So...?”

“Consider that apology accepted,” Rarity says. She climbs up into Applejack’s lap, straddling her, pressing her bathrobe into Applejack’s arms and tickling with every little shift of her body.

Holy hell this IS real.

Rarity kisses her again, a brief peck, and Applejack can feel her smile through it. A real smile, that one she’s seen Rarity make now and then that just melts her heart and reminds her of all the reasons she likes the fussy excuse for a lady.

Rarity moves up, placing a gentle, deliberate kiss on Applejack’s nose and then her forehead. She slides her hands up and cradles Applejack’s head, then rests against her, nuzzling and sighing in one deep, unguarded breath.

Applejack’s hands are still loosely bound, pressed into Rarity’s body and stuck against the robe, pressed up against something soft and round and pleasantly hefty. Two somethings.

Not wearing a bra.

Applejack feels sweat break out on her shoulders, knows what little skin not hidden by freckles must be burning red. She tries to ignore that feeling coiling up tight low in her gut, to hold it off just a little longer.

“Are you...” she tries to say, and can’t find words. “Really?”

“Applejack,” Rarity whispers past her ear. “If I’d found a man even half as concerned with what I deserve as you, I’d have been married already.”

“I ain’t some fancy city folk,” Applejack protests. “All’s I got is that farm, and that’s–”

Rarity grabs the top of her corset, yanking her close. Her fingers are cold against Applejack’s skin, digging into the tops of her breasts and sending shivers through her skin.

“You’re the one overthinking this? Of the two of us, it’s you somehow?” Rarity says.

She doesn’t let Applejack respond – she pulls her into a kiss again, and this time it’s full speed ahead. Applejack feels her pressing her tongue in and tries to fight back, but Rarity’s gracefully dodges and dances around hers.

Her hands finally surrender – they turn and open on their own, taking an ample handful each.

“Mmm!” Rarity squeals quietly, digging her fingers into Applejack’s hair.

She feels Rarity’s thighs flex and squeeze and Applejack’s hips thrust in reply, pulling another demure squeal from her throat. Applejack snorts like a stallion, her nostrils flare out, good and truly feeling it now, allowing herself to feel it, that this is real and happening and real.

They break their kiss and Applejack starts to trail down, leaving sloppy kisses down the subtle curve of Rarity’s jaw and neck. Then she feels hands against her shoulders, and with a grunt that sends chills through Applejack’s hips, Rarity pushes her onto her back.

“Whoa! Heh,” Applejack says, her chest heaving against that damned corset. “Movin’ a little fast, ain’t we?”

“Oh no,” Rarity says, low and hungry. “I think we’ve put this off for far too long.”

She attacks again, pinning Applejack down and peppering her with graceful, longing kisses, punctuated every few seconds with a teasing bite on Applejack’s lower lip. Applejack grunts and pants and massages those lovely breasts through her robe – they’re not too big, not too small, perfectly shaped and heaving just right.

“Hey, uh–” Applejack gets out between kisses. “You wanna...Mmm... maybe let go-OH of that rope?”

Rarity stops, appraising her with a clever smile. “I don’t know, I quite like you this way.”

“Heh, what?”

Quick as a cat, Rarity darts forward and loops her end of the rope through the armrest. She yanks on her end, pulling Applejack’s arms up straight over her head.

“Whoa!” If Applejack’s heart was racing before, it’s running off a cliff now. She’s laid out before Rarity, exposed in a way that’s only a little uncomfortable.

On the other hand, she’s instantly, achingly, burningly wet.

“Yes, I think I like it very much,” Rarity says, and the look on her face matches the damp heat Applejack can feel between her legs.

“Kinda freaky, huh?” Applejack says, breaking out a breathless grin.

“Hmmm, maybe a little.”

She leans down, kissing and licking and nipping down Applejack’s neck. Applejack feels her shift her weight, feels her slipping one thigh between Applejack’s legs, spread wide now. She keeps stealing glances down – Rarity’s robe is hiked up, askew, showing miles of creamy pale legs. Rarity clamps those legs around one of Applejack’s thick thighs and rests her weight, moaning and giving a reflexive tug on the rope.

And boy howdy, Applejack can feel that against her leg, a glowing coal behind something thin and lacy.

Applejack pulls her hands down, feeling no resistance. She works them under Rarity’s chest and squeezes hard, letting her fingers slide until they meet stiff nipples to pinch.

“Mmm!” Rarity starts, yanking on the rope and sending Applejack’s hands up again. “Gently!”

Applejack nods, going slower this time. Rarity thanks her with a longer, slower kiss and a long, slow moan, sliding her free hand down and resting it on Applejack’s hip. She uses it to brace herself and rocks her hips, sliding that lovely coal across the leg of Applejack’s jeans.

“Mmmmm,” Rarity shudders, and the sound and feel of it makes Applejack clench everything in her hips. Hearing her like that, prim lil’ miss prima donna, moaning like she’s being bent over and –

“Mmmmm!” Rarity moans again, thrusting at an even pace, wrapping her fingers around Applejack’s belt and pulling her into every motion.

Applejack raises her arms and works them over Rarity’s head, resting them on her back and slowly, awkwardly dragging the robe down over her shoulders.

“I just love your legs,” Rarity says, nearly out of breath, not opening her eyes. “Have I ever told you how jealous I am of you sometimes?”

“Jealous of ME?”

“Your legs are so strong.”

Applejack smiles and flexes her thigh, feeling a tremor run through the soft flesh riding on it.

“Ooooooooh yes like that,” Rarity moans. “And I’d kill to have your rear, you know. Mine’s so skinny.”

If Applejack’s hands hadn’t been bound, she would’ve given that skinny rear a healthy slap. Instead she bites her tongue and finally yanks that pink cloth down, baring Rarity’s shoulders and those comely, lovely mounds on her chest. She leans in and growls, low and husky right in Rarity’s ear.

“You sayin’ you want a piece of my rear?”

She feels Rarity’s giggle in her chest, shaking those lovely breasts in her hands. “...Not your rear I’m interested in just now.”

And then her arms are empty, and Applejack gulps as Rarity climbs down, sliding her hands down Applejack’s chest and quivering belly and down to the tarnished buckle of her belt, her big, blue eyes never flinching for a second.

Applejack starts to follow her, to sit up and maybe lend a hand, but a sharp yank on the rope stretches her out flat again, hoisting her hands up to the armrest.

“Whoa!” Applejack gasps, just this side of nervous. “Oh boy.”

“Mmm!” Rarity smugly bites her lip. Somehow, through all the rope and empty bathrobe in the way, she works Applejack’s belt buckle open. Then she’s tearing through the fly and carefully, insistently yanking them down. Applejack lifts her butt just enough, feeling her jeans pulled down to the tops of her boots.

“Ugh, boy shorts,” Rarity says, but she’s smiling despite her tone. “Oh, I’ll have to do something about that.”

“What’s thaAH–” Applejack says, jerking as her underwear is expertly pulled down and tucked away with her jeans, “...that supposed to mean?”

Rarity doesn’t answer, not with words anyway. She slides her soft hands up Applejack’s legs, pressing her fingertips into the hard muscles there as she goes. Her fancy nails scratch just barely against the insides of Applejack’s thighs, forcing a low, choked whine to kick out of her throat.

She’s naked, in all the ways that matter. And Rarity is kissing her, brushing her lips over Applejack’s hips and lower belly.

She’s naked.

And Rarity is kissing her.

Applejack starts to thank her lucky stars, starts to wonder what it is she finally did right, but she’s interrupted by Rarity carefully running fingers through the wild patch of fine, cottony hair between her legs.

“It’s so soft,” Rarity says with childish glee. “And blonde!”

“Uh... yeah?” Applejack says.

Rarity’s delighted smile turns into a wicked, hungry grin. Her fingers tighten on Applejack’s thighs, and she lowers her head, pursing her lips to run them over Applejack’s...

“Whoa!” Applejack’s hips buck and she tries to close her legs, holding Rarity’s face inches away from her target.

“What?” Rarity says, pouting and impatient. “You want it, Applejack, I can see how badly.”

Applejack strains at the rope – this is so fast, ain’t it? Is it too fast? “You don’t... Rarity, you don’t gotta do that...”

Rarity frowns at her, pushing Applejack’s legs open with far more strength than Applejack thought was possible. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

Applejack blinks down at her, wide open and waiting. Rarity gives her the look, that look, eyebrows narrowed and sure, that look she gets when nothing and nobody is going to stop her.

“I want to,” Rarity says.

And then she dives in, locking her lips over Applejack’s and thrusting her tongue in hard.

Applejack’s hips thrust on their own, her eyes slamming shut as Rarity’s tongue rocks through her. Just like her other kisses, it’s graceful and quick, and then surprisingly firm, stroking up and down and peeking, teasing between the folds.

It’s almost too much. Applejack groans and wraps her end of the rope in her hands, finding no slack – Rarity holds her tight, her smile growing every time Applejack pulls. Her other hand keeps stroking through that hair she’s so taken with, bunching it up in her fingers and sending little stinging tickles up into Applejack’s throat.

Applejack rolls her hips with every stroke of that tongue – she isn’t even meaning to.

This... WOW... didn’t have to... so soon?

And kinda weird, with the rope and all.

Oh who am I kidding?

Applejack is panting wildly, the corset straining at her chest tighter than ever. Her body is plenty fine with this, far more fine with it than she can quite bring herself to admit. She just hadn’t thought – imagined, really, when she let herself feel foolish – she’d thought it would be a few slow dates, thought Rarity would wanna be courted all proper-like...

“AH!” Applejack bucks harder – Rarity is sliding her mouth up just enough, searching at the top of her mound. She finds what she’s looking for, and pinches it between her lips so hard that Applejack chokes in what would’ve been a louder, more embarrassing yelp.

“What... wha... oh, golly,” Applejack says, fighting for breath, “What happened to gently?”

“Mmm,” Rarity says, deviously, letting the vibrations speak through her lips. “I think we’re far past that, dear.”

Applejack shudders and almost melts.

Oh, is THAT how it is?

She finally lets go and squeezes with her legs, cutting them loose.

“Mmm?!” Rarity’s face is trapped and smothered, ground into Applejack’s crotch as she writhes against her.

“Heh,” Applejack pins her there, thighs flexing like carved wood, closing her eyes and biting her lip as she grinds against Rarity. “What were you sayin’ about my legs?”

“Mmmm... Mmmmmmm...” Rarity trails off, her eyes dreamy and dazed.

“Aw... awwww YEAH.” Applejack rides with it, finally feeling it, feeling it’s okay and it’s really happening and she wants it, they both want it, Rarity is moaning between her legs right now and dragging her tongue inside her and damn if it isn’t better than she ever could’ve...

Rarity taps her stomach a few times, punctuating it with a few gentle pulls on the rope.

“Huh?” Applejack eases up, relaxing her thighs. “Shoot, I ain’t chokin’ you or anything, am I?”

Rarity ignores her – she’s gasping for breath, sure, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She climbs up and tears her bathrobe off, tossing it across the room. Then she’s less-than-gracefully clambering, swinging her legs over...

Oh HELL yes.

And then her knees are planted on either side of Applejack’s head. Her panties are black and lacey and the kind that... well not a thong, but cut real high on her butt kinda like a thong and...

What the hell do you even call those anyway?

“Guh!” Applejack forgets the thought as Rarity goes back to work on her, moaning and groaning and working her tongue between Applejack’s legs in all kinds of right ways.

Applejack feels her hands pulled tight again in time with Rarity grinding her hips down, smothering Applejack in smooth, damp fabric and thick, cloying smell. Her mouth waters and she blindly kisses up at whatever she can catch, feeling the shivering, trembling mound hiding behind those damn panties, wanting to get more of the taste.

She fights to bring her hands in but Rarity won’t let her. Instead, Rarity slips her hand in and frantically tears the front of her panties to the side, and now she’s smothering Applejack, rubbing wet, slick, hot beauty right over her mouth and nose. Applejack’s eyes roll back as she finally tastes it, aching to dive in deeper.

They twist and fumble and shift around – so close, so close, Applejack can feel Rarity’s moans pick up, feel her belly sucking in with higher, trembling, flighty breaths. She cranes her neck up, pressing her tongue in deep and feeling it pinched between velvety walls, scootches just a bit to get deeper –

Applejack shifts her weight again, and feels nothing under half her butt.

Uh oh.

There’s one, silent, hovering moment, both of them right on the edge. Applejack’s arms try to move, to steady them, and strain uselessly at the rope instead.

“AHHHH!” Rarity cries out, not in passion, but instead in shock as they both go tumbling off the edge of the chaise lounge.

It’s a mess – a tangled, roped up mess. Applejack grunts and Ooofs and Ouches as they hit the floor and go rolling, her hands still hitched to the armrest. Their legs knock the base of a mannequin out from under it, dropping it into a pile of cloth and spilling things every which way.

Rarity is tangled against her, still panting and flushed, ass high in the air in a way that would probably upset her quite a bit. Applejack can’t tell if she just came or if she’s furious that she didn’t.

“...Well shoot,” Applejack says.

“...Yes...” Rarity gathers herself, still breathing in weak, trembling sighs. She turns around and helps Applejack fumble with the rope, pulling it until she’s free of the armrest. “...Shoot.”

“You okay?”

“Mmhmm.” Rarity lies against her, just snuggling, sharing the heat and sweat between them before the cool air can make things uncomfortable. She opens her eyes and they catch on something right away. “Oh!”

She reaches past Applejack, rummaging around in the mess they just made. She finds it, and Applejack feels it being put on her head.

The tiara, from earlier. Just a simple thing, cheap plastic pretending it’s gold, with a red star on the front.

“There,” Rarity says, sounding very satisfied. “I knew something was missing.”

Applejack looks up. She can’t see it, of course, but she does it anyway. “I don’t think Wonder Woman would’ve fallen off the couch like that.”

Rarity giggles against her. “Chaise lounge.”

“Right,” Applejack chuckles back. “Chaise lounge.”

She holds Rarity close, feeling her quiet giggles slowly turn into real laughs. Not fake laughs, not for show. The real thing.

Applejack laughs back, and hers are real too – not strained, or held back, not dry or wistful, just real, happy laughter.

Rarity kisses her on the nose, her fingers playfully working their way along the side of the corset, slowly undoing the hooks on its sides.

But she doesn’t tear it off right away. They just hold each other for a while instead, taking their time with it.

Applejack sighs loudly. No rush, no reason to. For once, finally, it feels like everything is gonna work out okay.
> Brakes
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Slipping into and out of every little gap, like a lone fish swimming downstream as every other salmon in the school swims up the river, Twilight Sparkle moves through the flood of students that fill the hallways of the university towards...somewhere. 

Wherever she needs to be next, which was...

Ummm...

Twilight sighs.

She's heard of “running on autopilot” before, of course, but this is not quite what she expected.

Looking up and suffering a sudden awareness that an hour has passed - which she almost certainly wasn't asleep for and yet cannot remember clearly - is a bit new to Twilight. As is reading from her textbook and realizing that her eyes have just been rolling over the words, not even processing them at all, and now that she has zoned-in again she has no idea whatsoever what she's even reading about.

This was terminal inattention to schoolwork, of all things. And yet, she's at class on time, sits down, takes slightly less thorough notes than usual, gets up, and goes to her next class. Like clockwork, or like her schedule is pulling her along whether her mind is on board or not. It's not like she's just laying in bed all day, unable to cope—she's still going about her life as usual. 

She'd thought about this.  Moping in bed would represent some kind of active engagement with what had happened.

She's just...coasting.

Well, her body is, anyways.

It's stupid and hateful and frustrating. She's not even tired or angry or bored with anything—no, she's still as interested in her classwork as ever. Well, when she's...there, she still enjoys and cares about it, but...

She's just fading in and out, as if she's moving from one dream to another, only briefly visiting the real world before going somewhere else to apparently not do very much except not be present. Nothing she remembered, anyways—so, not daydreaming or wandering attention.

Just absence.

Numbness.

And when she returns to herself, it's - it's—

“Twilight? Twilight Sparkle?”

It's a bit of a shock.

“Agh!”

Twilight looks up, startled, as a hand gently falls on her shoulder, and tries to smile through a massive blush, heart pounding.

The familiar sight of Professor Celestia fills Twilight's vision.

Tall, impeccably dressed in a white and black suit, her brilliant head of hair today expertly worn up in a style that was at once very simple and academic and at the same time, seemed regal and stately. Just enough makeup to accentuate her olive features to their utmost.

Perfectly composed, just like the woman herself. The sort of person the crowd makes room for—the sort of person you only fail to notice if you're blind, looking the opposite direction, or just not all there.

Especially if you're Twilight Sparkle.

Mentor was a bit of a stretch, because that implied a lot more attention than Twilight got from any professor, but… not everyone had been taking coffee with her most Fridays for the past two semesters, even though she didn't take classes with her anym—

A momentary punch of shame finds itself planted firmly in Twilight's guts as she realizes she hasn't been doing that, lately.

Someo—something has been...occupying her time.

But if the professor has anything to say on that topic, it doesn't show on her face. Her bright eyes are as knowing and peaceful as ever, and the smile splitting her face shows nothing but pleasure as honest as the sun is bright.

“I'm sorry, I seem to have taken you by surprise,” she says, winking.

“Oh, er...no, no.” Twilight looks away for a moment, feeling like a little kid with her hand in the cookie jar. “Just, um, occupied with...other...”

Her dissembling dies away into a mumble.

The professor raises an eyebrow. “So, yes, in other words.”

Twilight sighs. There's nothing for it.

“Sorry.”

“Oh, don't be!” The professor gives Twilight's shoulder a little squeeze before withdrawing it. “I've been all over the place myself, lately, so I can hardly blame you for not expecting to run into me. How have you been? It feels like forever since...”

She goes on like that for a little while, but Twilight doesn't really listen to it. She sees the professor's lips moving, hears the sounds without processing their meaning...

Not like the professor to chitchat or small talk.

It’s the only thought she can summon. The only reaction.

A vague hand-wave of a thought. Not even engaged with the conversation, really, as if she just wanted the Cliff Notes of the chat and for it to be over and done with.

What the...? Seriously!? Even with her?

Twilight feels an urge to grab her hair and yank it out, screaming at the sudden spasm of self-loathing. Maybe that would bring her back to reality! This is Professor Celestia, who is...so...so...important! So kind, and knowledgeable, and who had encouraged so much in her, and yet she was fading out of this?!

She was just a dumb jock, for all that she...she...

Again, with the need to scream and yell and break things.

What is wrong with m—

Suddenly conscious of the real world again, Twilight blinks, and starts in place as she realizes that Celestia stopped speaking a few heartbeats ago, and is now giving her the sort of furrowed-brow look that Twilight associates with her mother wondering if someone has a fever.

Panic consumes the scattered kindling of her thoughts with terrible ease.

Oh, no. No, no, no, not to her. If she knew I was this messed up over something as dumb as that stupid jocktard I'd—she'd—

“Are you alright?”

“Fine!” Twilight blurts, grasping at straws. “Just fine. Lots of work. Midterms in a few weeks.”

The professor raises an eyebrow. “Twilight, midterms were weeks ago now, unless—”

“You see? Overworked. I've had my nose in a book for so long I can't tell if it's Tuesday or the summer solstice, haha...”

“Don't you mean the autumnal equinox?”

Twilight grins desperately. “Do I?”

“You very well might, although heaven alone knows why. It was a few weeks ago, too,” Professor Celestia says, frowning slightly as she straightens. “I can see you're more than a bit stressed, Twilight. Try to get some rest, will you? Real rest, mental and physical, like we've talked about.”

“Of course, professor.”

“That's a suggestion from a friend, not an order, Twilight.”

“Yes, professor.” When the professor doesn't respond, Twilight adds: “Thank you, professor.”

“Yes, well, I wish I could say you're acting terribly different from normal,” Professor Celestia murmurs to herself, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. She gives Twilight a fond smile. “Just try to relax before you have an aneurysm.”

Twilight makes a show of taking a deep breath in, and huffing it back out again. “Sorry.”

The professor just chuckles. “No, I should be the one to apologize. I'd love to pull you away and have some coffee together, but I have to be to a meeting in...oh, dear, ten minutes ago. But knowing the department, I'll still be the first one there, so no worries.”

“Ha, yeah,” Twilight manages.

“I'll see you later, then,” the professor says.

They give each other a smile and set off.

It's like being let out of a trap, somehow. Twilight can't help but breathe a sigh of relief—

“Oh, and...Twilight...?”

The sigh of relief is sucked back in suddenly as Twilight freezes in place and forces her features back into a smile before turning to reply.

“Yes?”

Professor Celestia gives her a serious look. “My door is always open to you. For anything. You know that, right?”

Twilight’s heart pauses, for the barest moment.

Really?

Even this? The way she...and when I...?

...no. No, not...no.

“R-right,” Twilight says. “Of course. I have your e-mail and everything...”

Celestia just smiles and nods, giving Twilight a little wave.

If Twilight wasn't feeling particularly present before all that, she is damn well alert and awake now. With a polite but firm haste, she makes her way through the still-thick crowd, weaving through the teeming mass of undergraduates like only a veteran academic can.

Unseen behind her, Professor Celestia watches her go with a weary sigh.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”


*        *        *


Author's Note:  The next part contains a depiction of sexual assault.  Feel free to skip to the end, important bits will be summarized there.

Rainbow Dash slides to a stop, swinging the back tire of her bike around in a skid that leaves a long, dark swath of dirt in the gravel.  It’s only a driveway in the sense that cars park there sometimes.  Weeds have sprung up all over it, thick and choking, making it look more and more like the sickly excuse for a lawn elsewhere.
The house is a squat, ugly brick of a thing, trying to look like a normal home and failing.  The best that could be said for this place is that it isn’t a trailer park - although it is surrounded by trailer parks.
Rainbow Dash doesn’t care about any of this.  Her eyes see them and she thinks the same things she always does - Haha, jeez, what a dump - but only in a half-ass kind of way.  There’s a lot more on her mind, for once.
She gets off the bike and picks her way around the moldy furniture and rusty car parts littering the yard.  At the end of the drive is an absolute beast of a bike, worn but well-cared for, all sexy curves and chrome dulled through years of hard use.  She practically drools looking at it.  She loves her little dirt bike - truly, deeply, and in a somewhat worrying way - but this bike is a whole other thing, a beautiful monster, as smooth and sinister as the devil.
She reaches through a hole in the screen to knock on the actual door.  Her eyes barely leave that damn motorcycle.  It’s black, and it even has flames painted on the side just like in the movies, although they’re also old and scratched and worn.
She hears someone stomping inside.
“Fuckin’ kidding me, bullshit fucking knocking on my goddamn door...”
Rainbow Dash smirks and chuckles, hearing the curses getting closer.  The door flies open.
“WHAT?” the woman inside yells.  Her face unsnarls the moment she sees Dash, turning to nothing but blinks and surprise.
“Gilda,” Rainbow Dash says, striking an appropriately cool pose.  “I see you missed me.”
“Rainbow Dash.”  Gilda crosses her arms, even smiling for a second.  “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“The fuck are YOU doing here?” Rainbow Dash says right back, smirking.  
“Not waiting for your skinny ass.”  She stretches and yawns, grudgingly keeping her smile on.  “You are such a little bitch, Dash.”
Rainbow Dash smiles.  This is more like it - none of that lovey-dovey crap.
Gilda shakes her head and goes inside, leaving the door open.  Dash follows, jumping a little as the screen door bangs shut behind her.
It’s awful inside.  Rainbow Dash remembers how this place alway seemed dark even when it wasn’t gloomy out, cramped and run down.  The living room is a wood-paneled cave, crammed full of junk and boxes and pieces of cars or motorcycles, take your pick.  There’s a ratty couch but it’s got an old TV taking up most of it, one of those big, boxy ones like Dash’s parents had way back in the day.
Gilda disappears around the corner, her voice flying back at Dash.  “So really, what the fuck are you doing here?”
Rainbow Dash shrugs, burying her hands in her pockets.  “I dunno.  Been a while,” she says.
Gilda returns, cracking open a can of cheap beer and ignoring the foam that spills out.  “Yeah.  Been a while.”  She takes a quick swig and then holds the can out to Dash.
        Rainbow Dash drinks it, because hey, why not?  It’s not quite cold.  
It tastes awful.  Dash drinks it anyway.
        “You done playing around with your little college girlfriend?” Gilda says.
        Dash chokes on her beer.
        How did she...?!
        “Chill out, idiot.”  Gilda punches her on the arm.  It hurts, but Dash grins right through it.  “You stopped coming around.  Knew you’d come back, though.”
        “Yeah?”  Dash hands the beer back to her, trying not to sound surprised.
        Rainbow Dash.  Hundred percent ice cool.  All the time.
“Yeah, you college girls always do,” Gilda says.
        “Fuck off, G.”
        Gilda just laughs and stalks off towards the kitchen.
        Dash follows.  There’s a wobbling little table crammed in the corner there, so at least they can sit.  Dash wedges herself in across from Gilda and tries not to knock anything over - the table is covered in cans and paper plates and spilled piles of ash and cigarette butts.
        Gilda wipes at her eyes between pulls at their only can of beer - she looks like she just woke up.  Her short hair is sticking out in weird places, and her long, sharp bangs are scattered all over the place instead of hanging over face.
        Rainbow Dash snorts.  The tips of Gilda’s bangs are still dyed light purple, but her usual eye shadow is missing.
        Definitely just woke up.
Damn, what is it, four?
        Jealous!
Maybe that’s why Gilda doesn’t seem to care about living in a filthy, broken down mobile home.  Hell, if it wasn’t for classes, Dash knows she would sleep until whenever.
        “That one’s new,” Rainbow Dash says.  She’s looking at a piercing, a silver stud on the rear edge of Gilda’s eyebrow.
        Gilda smirks, deep and naughty.  “You should see my other new one.”  Without any fanfare at all, she hikes her shirt up and yanks the cup of her bra down.
        Whoa!
Dash’s eyebrows shoot wide open.  There’s a simple silver stud through Gilda’s nipple, a little barbell with a ball on either side of the pink nub.  It’s pretty eye-catching, but Dash’s eyes slide down, past Gilda’s barely-visible ribs and sliding along the curve of her hip.
        She’s lost weight.  Still tough and tawny, but sleeker now.
        “Pretty rad, right?” Gilda says.
        “...Yeah,” Dash says, distantly.  It’s funny - she’d spent the last week or so just doing her own thing.  Not moping, not over Twilight, hell no.  But then she’d woken up this morning torn up and wound up, fidgeting and tight in the chest.  A little ball of coiled, frantic energy had been jittering in her belly...
        Single again!  HELL yeah!
And she knew she needed it now, and bad, a real lay.  No more mushy stuff.  So she’d hopped on her bike, not that riding really helped any, and found herself here.  
She’d only gotten worse on the way - it had been so long since she’d seen Gilda.  She sped the whole way here, just like they used to race on their bikes, zipping between lanes and dodging through red lights.
But now that she’s here...
Ribs.  Wow.
It doesn’t feel quite as urgent.
Gilda doesn’t seem to notice her eyes wandering.  She tugs her bra down further and cups her breast, holding it up for Dash.  “You gonna check it out, or what?”
“Oh!  Uh, yeah.  Pffft, hell yeah,” Dash says.  She reaches over.
THERE it is.  Mmmf.
Horny again.  Her fingers slide up the slope of Gilda’s breast, grazing the tips over her skin, and she runs one finger over the cold metal.
Bigger than Twilight’s.  Bigger nipples, too.
Whatever.  She’s not thinking about Twilight - she’s thinking about Gilda, watching her grin and making her grin wider with every little touch of her finger.  Rainbow Dash licks her lips and pinches it, pulling and twisting just slightly.
“Ow!” Gilda says, still smiling.  She rolls her lower lip between her teeth.
“Whoa, sorry,” Dash pulls back, but Gilda snaps a hand around her wrist.  Her fingers are sharp and boney, digging into Dash’s arm like steel wire.
“Sorry?”  Gilda giggles and snorts, cruel mocking.  “Sorry?”
“Shut up,” Dash says, trying to shake Gilda’s hand off.  It doesn’t work.
“Oh, you want it so BAD!” Gilda says, still giggling wickedly.  She stands up and pulls Dash out of her chair, almost throwing her into the wall.  She plants one arm against the wall over Dash’s shoulder, looming over her.
Dash puffs her chest out - not nervous, not scared, just cool - and scoffs loudly.  “Me?” she says.  “Me?!  I just showed up like, a minute ago, and you’re all over me.”
Gilda smirks and slaps her lightly across the face, whipping one stinging hand into her cheek.
0 and 2.  Nice.
Then she grabs Dash’s chin and holds it tight, clawing her in place as she dives in for a rough, nasty kiss.
Definitely horny now.  Dash’s chest empties out, that tight, falling feeling in her hips taking over as Gilda does what she wants.  Dash can barely move her tongue, her face, her arms push feebly against Gilda’s chest, and her legs squeeze together in need.
“That’s more like it,” Gilda says.  She grabs the front of Dash’s jeans by the buckle and yanks her close.  “You gonna get in my bed now, or do I have to put you there?”
Dash takes the moment and pushes back, grinning as she worms her way out of Gilda’s grasp.  They tussle for a few seconds, Dash pants and holds in moans, squirming her arms out of Gilda’s strong fingers and grabbing back when she can.  It’s fun, and hot, just like the first time she and Twilight...
No no no no no.
It’s really not.  Gilda turns her around and pushes, spanking her on the ass as she sends Dash stumbling down the hall.  Still bigger.  Still stronger.
Rainbow Dash turns to ready herself but Gilda is already pouncing again, kissing and pushing, dragging both of them clumsily towards the bedroom.  Dash tries to force her tongue in and Gilda bites it, hard enough to make Dash gasp.
It’s not quite right.  They used to do it at night - well, whenever, really - but usually at night, and always after a race, or a fight, or something that had them panting and sweaty and full of the rush, the need to win, flying circles around each other until they were both too tired and wound up at the same time to do anything but frantically fuck it out.
Those had been great.  She remembers straddling Gilda on that big hog of a bike, both of them taking off their helmets and wrapping each other up in a sloppy kiss right as Gilda revved the engine, roaring it right up through Dash’s legs.
Mmm.  MAN.
That was the good stuff.  Dash was thinking of that, this morning when she woke up.  She was thinking of that as she rode her bike over here.  She’s still thinking about it now, while GIlda shoves her into a dim bedroom, tripping them both onto a mattress on the floor.
She gets glimpses around her, between Gilda holding her down and pelting her with kisses.  It looks just like it did - heaps of clothes, dirty and not.  A chest of drawers with duct tape all over the cheap wood.  A broken guitar leaning up against a corner.
It stinks.  Like old sweat and stale sex.
Gilda pins her to the bed, rocking her hips into Dash and slowly, purposefully tearing her clothes off.  Her jacket goes, and then she tries to go for Gilda’s shirt and feels her arms pinned up instead.  Gilda peels Dash’s top off and then tears her bra off, pulling a few ripping sounds out of the stretchy material.
Ha, nice!
This is more like it!  Dash kisses her back, feeling Gilda squeeze and pinch her modest little breasts.  She wraps her legs around Gilda’s hips and squeezes, holding in not-cool moans of pleasure, because she knows they would sound nothing like the throaty grunts that GIlda is making.
Dash sneaks her hands down, going for Gilda’s fly.  Her arms are trapped between them as she fumbles at the zipper, opening it, wondering if Gilda still has that totally badass picture shaved into her pubes or if she...
She feels Gilda smile against her lips, and Gilda’s hands disappear for a second. 
        Huh.  What?
        Gilda pulls back, breaking their sloppy kissing, and Dash hears the shhhCLACK of a knife being opened.  She opens her eyes just in time to see the blade, the flat of it pressed against her lips.
        They both freeze.  Dash’s heart does a little dance, like a car just pulled out in front of her and she’s going ninety.
        “You remember this?” Gilda says, leering down at her.
        Dash would nod, if she couldn’t feel the razor sharp edge pressing into her skin.  It’s a buck knife - one of those clasp ones they sell at truck stops, with the wooden handle and brass trim.  She’d seen Gilda stab a guy through the hand with it once, pinning him to a table.
        Her hands are stuck, squeezed under Gilda’s crotch.
        “Been a long time, Dash,” Gilda says, still smiling.  She drags the knife, very gently, down Dash’s lips and over the curve of her chin.
        “...Yeah?” Dash says, her heart pounding and skipping now.
        “Been having fun with those college girls, right?”
        “Uh... yeah,” Dash says, somewhat less full of herself than usual.  “Heh.  You know me.”
        “Mmmm,” Gilda growls, sliding the knife lower.  She squeezes harder with her legs as she passes over Dash’s throat, catching Dash’s jolt of panic before she even knew she would do it.  Then the cold blade is tracing down her left collarbone.
        “So how was she?” Gilda asks, golden eyes piercing down at Dash.
        “Uh...?”  Dash chuckles, not nervously, no.  “Which one?”
        “Cut the bullshit, Dash,” Gilda growls.  The knife presses into her skin, hairs away from breaking it.  “The special one.”
        Dash scowls at her.  She tries to sit up, growling, fuck the knife, she doesn’t have to put up with this shit from anybody.  Gilda slams her back down into the mattress, holding the blade in the shallow valley between her breasts.
        “You’re different,” Gilda says, playfully, a cat grinning at the mouse under its paw.  “You didn’t stop calling me when you were fucking around with all those little cunts on your team.  You found someone special, didn’t you?”
        “Fuck you,” Rainbow Dash growls, staring back at her, not flinching anymore.
        Gilda laughs, easing the knife back and playing with it, drawing nervous figure eights on Dash’s chest with the tip.  Not cutting, just dragging it along hard enough to sting.
        Dash holds her breath, trying to decide whether to glare at the knife or Gilda.  Heart still pounding, sure, still racing, but this is getting less and less funny.  Or fun.
        “Did she break your heart?” Gilda says, pouting and making a mocking baby voice.
        “Whatever.”  Dash rolls her eyes.  “She... bi...”  She winces, inside, closing her eyes and trying to force it out.  “Bit... girl couldn’t handle this action.”
        Gilda smirks and nods.  “What was her name?”
        “What the fuck do you care?”
        She attacks fast, a hawk’s dive, wrapping one arm around the back of Dash’s head and using the other to bring the knife up, pressing the tip right under Dash’s chin.
        She can’t hide it now, no chance.  Dash is shaking, eyes wide and panicked, her arms fighting to free themselves, feet scrambling for purchase.
        “What was her name?” Gilda growls.
        “It doesn’t matter!”
        “Tell me!”
        Dash glances around, pushing back the panic chewing in her head, telling her to scream and cry and run like hell.  “Pinkie!” she yells.
        “Pinkie?” Gilda says, dripping contempt.
        “Lemme go!” Dash yells.  “For real, G, cut this shit out!”
        Gilda smirks again, like she’s won.  In one quick motion she snaps the knife up, twirling it into a backhand grip, and in another just as fast she brings it slamming down.
        THUNK
        Dash slowly opens her eyes, prying her teeth open and carefully unflinching.  The knife is stuck in the wall, wobbling back and forth.
        “Knew you’d be back,” GIlda says, all pleasant smiles again.  She stalks in close and kisses Dash, slowly this time, running her hands down Dash’s arms and meeting her between their legs.
        Dash is still catching her breath.  She’s sweating all over, cold and clammy, her heart still turning over so fast it hurts.
        Gilda kisses her, and wraps their fingers together.  It’s almost tender.
        Rainbow Dash smirks into the kiss and darts her hand up, grabbing Gilda’s piercing and giving it a sharp twist.
        “AH!” Gilda squawks, shoving Dash into the mattress.  “Bitch!”
        “THAT’S for jerking me around with that knife.  What the hell, G?”
        Gilda’s mean smile fades a bit.  “Aww, come on Dash.  Just fuckin’ around.”
        Rainbow Dash snorts quietly and gives the piercing another twist.  Gilda doesn’t even seem to notice this time.
        “Besides, you liked it.”  Gilda shoves her hand between Dash’s legs, gripping the mound there and squeezing.  “You’re practically dripping.”
        Guilty.  Rainbow Dash feels her face growing warm.
        Dammit dammit dammit!
It’s fine - Gilda pounces again, kissing her and rubbing rough between Dash’s legs.  Dash squeezes with her thighs and thrusts her chest up, whining pathetically - she can’t help it, Gilda is grinding her thumb into Dash’s clit, driving her mad through what clothes are left.        
        The next few seconds are a blur.  Dash struggles to get Gilda’s pants off, and barely succeeds, dragging the tattered jeans off just barely.  She never gets a chance at Gilda’s underwear.
        Zebra stripes.  Nice.
        Gilda tears the rest of Dash’s clothes off with savage eyes, yanking her limbs where she needs them.  Dash is naked so quickly she almost tries to cover herself with her hands - it’s cold, sure, but that’s only half the reason she’s shivering, nipples so hard they ache.
        She moans...again, but finds it hard to care this time.  It's so nice to be wanted.  Gilda isn’t like Twilight, asking permission and apologizing every time she wants to fuck.  She just takes.  
        Gilda growls, moving down Dash’s neck and biting between kisses.  Her hands dig into Dash’s tight buttcheeks, pulling her in close and rocking their hips together.
        Dash growls back, searching with her mouth and finding an ear, nipping at it just past gently.  Just enough that it had to hurt a little.
        Gilda snorts and flips her over, throwing Dash onto her belly.  She tries to get up and makes it to her hands and knees, then feels Gilda’s weight thrown on her back, pinning her there.
        She feels Gilda’s shirt on her back, the piercing poking through the thin white fabric.  Gilda’s tight legs rub against hers, snuggled in close, thrusting her hips into Dash’s butt, ramming into her a few times with another mean growl.  All she can see is the faded wood panel of the wall, and the knife, still stuck there.
        Gilda’s hot breath stings the back of her neck.  Dash digs her fingers into the mattress - she’s quivering, arching her back and showing off how badly she needs this, needs to just fuck it out, all that lame gooey talking and feelings and crap finally getting to her.
        Gilda chuckles - Dash doesn’t have to see to know the wicked smile she’s making.  She feels Gilda’s hands running down her sides, feels one cup her breast and the other slide down plunge two fingers right into Dash’s lips.
        “AH!”  Dash cries out.  It was rough, and sudden, but...
        Awesome?
        Gilda slides them in and out, fingering her quick and brutal right out the gate.  Rainbow Dash was going to yell out something in victory - Hell yeah, maybe.  Or finally.  Maybe say something even cooler.
        Took you long enough, G.
        No, still... Hmph.  She sighs and bites her lip - she was expecting awesome, amazing, just as mindblowing as that time Gilda bent her over the motorcycle.  This is just...
        I mean, getting fingerblasted pretty good here, no doubt.
        But that’s it.  Rainbow Dash moans and wiggles her hips, squeezing with her inner walls - Gilda seems to ignore her, still working her fingers just the same.
        Rainbow Dash pouts to herself.  She can’t see anything, just this stupid wood panel.  
Whenever she and Twilight-
        No no no cut that out.
        She decides she wants to turn around, to face Gilda.  For no particular reason.  She starts to move, but Gilda sits up and plants her free hand on Dash’s back.
“Whoa, where do you think you’re going?” Gilda says.
“Come on, man.  Face to face,” Dash says, glaring over her shoulder.
“Nuh uh.”  Gilda’s hand tenses up, digging her nails into Dash’s back.
“What?  Come on, just...”  Dash starts to roll over.
Gilda claws at one of her arms and pulls it up, behind her back.  She leans in close, thrusting her fingers as deep as they can go.
“Mmmn!” Dash moans, liking those fingers a little more.  Still not right, though.  “Come on, G, what gi - AH!”
Her arm, twisted and burning.  It feels like Gilda is tearing it out of its socket.  Dash grits her teeth, feeling her eyes water up, and then Gilda whispers in her ear.
“Oh Rainbow Dash, I totally want to look in your eyes too, oh my god,” Gilda says, sing-song and mocking.  “Fucking flip over and quit fuckin’ whining.”
“Hey fuck yo - OH.  OW, goddammit!”  Dash yells.  Gilda is twisting her arm again, pushing and forcing her face down into the mattress.  Those fingers are back to working, hammering into her over and over again so fast they make a loud squelch every time.
“Oh my god,” Gilda chuckles.  “You really are dripping.  I knew you liked it rough but damn.”
Rainbow Dash feels like choking, a little glad her face is buried in the mattress - she is wet, she can feel herself eagerly squeezing Gilda’s fingers with every thrust.  She can barely move, Gilda has her tied up by the arm and gives it a mean yank every time Dash so much as starts to move.
“That’s right,” Gilda says, breathy and panting.  “That’s right... take it just like that you... you love it you little...”
Gilda sounds far away, muttering almost.  Rainbow Dash scowls at nothing, her face burning.  
Man is she drunk?  What the hell?
She’s not jealous this time.  It’s... okay, yeah.  Hot?  Sure, sure.  That tight little ball of nervous energy in her belly is growing, anyway, leaking out through her hips with warm, shuddering promises.
She wants to move.  She tries again and Gilda yanks her arm harder, pulling her fingers out and giving Dash a wet slap on the ass.
Jeez, fine.  You win.
Rainbow Dash keeps hiding her face.  She hates losing.  But fine, fair and square and all that crap, just bend over and take it until...
Wait WHAT?
She feels Gilda’s thumb sliding up, squeezing a little harder with each wet thrust.  It circles and tickles and finds the tight hole right above her lips, pressing in and forcing it open just slightly.
No.  No, too far.
“Hey!”  Rainbow Dash struggles to look at her, gasps each time as Gilda twists her arm harder.  “Hey, for real, no!”
“Oh, shut up, you’ll love this,” Gilda says, pulling out and spanking her again.  It hurts, not hot or exciting or fun at all, just a mean slap.
“Stop!”
Gilda doesn’t.  Dash feels her thumb press and squirm and force its way into her, making her grit her teeth at the dry stinging.
“G!  What the fuck, come on!” Dash yells.
Gilda squeezes her arm so hard Dash’s hand goes numb, pulling it up and back until there’s no gasping breath left in Dash’s lungs.  She presses harder, working her thumb in deeper until Dash feels her knuckle sandpaper its way in.
“Gil... Gilda...” Dash starts to say, but she hears wavering sobs in it.  It hurts, goddamn does it hurt, the fingers sliding inside her almost forgotten next to Gilda’s boney thumb in her ass.  Gilda grunts and forces it in to the hilt, leaving it there and going back to work with her fingers.
Dash buries her face in the bed.  She’s not crying, no, fuck that, fuck you, what the fuck, this is fine.  The Dash doesn’t get pinned to a bed, whining like a dog with the biggest thumb in the world being drilled up her ass.  No, everything’s cool, just got to... get...
“AH!”  Even the littlest move she tries to make is met with more awful tearing in her arm, the pain creeping in and jolting through her elbow.  It feels like its coming apart, slowly pulling away and tearing off like a chicken wing.
Gilda keeps fucking Dash with her fingers, keeping that warm fire burning between her legs.  It’s not fair - it would feel good if it wasn’t for the thumb in her butt.
“Knew you’d... like it...” Gilda says, different from before - dark and low and throaty.
Dash shakes her head, the only thing she can do without being punished.  “G... Gilda... come on...” she whimpers, really whimpers, and hearing herself hurts almost as much as -
Her eyes snap open wide, tears dripping out.  Gilda is squeezing, bearing down with her thumb, trying to meet her fingers with it.
Dash bites the bed, fighting to catch her breath and keep any sound in at the same time.  Not fair, not fair, this is messed up, what the fuck why...
She whimpers again - she can feel her hips trembling, feel herself squeezing tighter and longer against Gilda’s fingers, feel her hips thrusting against them.
NO.  No no no no no NO.
She can’t stop it.  That ball right above her hips is about to explode, she knows it, the slick, strong fingers sliding in and out of her just too much.  Gilda always knew how to make her come like this, make her scream and moan and shake until she was nothing but a happy worn-out mess.  She squirms and bucks and fights again, still pinned.  She almost tries to reach for the knife, anything, just anything not to let it happen.
It happens.
Her first gasp is muffled by the bed.  Her second rings out - Gilda finally lets her arm go and grabs a handful of her hair, yanking her head back and up as holds Dash tight by the hips.
“GAH!”  Rainbow Dash yells into thin air, chest heaving, clenching around GIlda’s fingers and thumb and it hurts so bad and she’s coming and it’s awful.
“AH!” she yells again, squeezing her eyes shut, shaking her head and straining at the hand holding her hair.  “Ah!  Ah... ah... ahhhhhhhh...”  The last gasp trails off into a long, low moan that winds down to a whimper.
Gilda pounds her fingers deeper in, one last time, and then finally, thankfully, lets her go.  Dash collapses into the bed, dizzy and shaking.
She’s alone, like that.  She’s not sure for how long - her lips are moving, whimpering silently, and the sweat all over her body is growing cold.  She curls up in a ball, moving her hands back and forth from covering her breasts to covering her aching mound.
She takes a deep breath.  
Messed up.  
This is messed up, all messed up, shouldn’t be like this.  
Gilda is fun.  Gilda is cool.  Cool like Dash, and The Dash would never -
What the fuck.  WHAT THE FUCK.
She sits up, clambering around blindly.  Her arm aches, her eyes ache, her ass aches, her face is puffy and swollen and damp with tears.  She looks around, blinking.  Gilda is sitting up against the wall.  She’s smoking a cigarette, watching the smoke drift up and around, grinning to herself.
Dash opens her mouth, to cuss her out, to yell something, to fight back.  Nothing comes - she chokes and gags instead, tasting bile at the back of her throat.
“Hey,” Gilda says, grinning at her.  “Told you you’d like it.”
Dash blinks at her.  The words sound muffled, far away.
“Now get over here and finish me off,” Gilda says, reaching for Dash.
Dash slaps her hand away, a panicked instinct.  She flinches and hates it, hates Gilda, hates everything.
“Come on, Dash,” Gilda says, looking annoyed.  “Get that little tongue of yours down here and-”
“NO.”
Gilda stops, glaring at her.
Rainbow Dash fights for words - she wants to cry, can feel the urge fighting its own battle behind every thought.  “You... we... you can’t just...”
“You are different,” Gilda scoffs.  “What the fuck is all this baby shit?”
“You can't just DO that, it's-”
“Oh shut the fuck up.”  Gilda rolls her eyes.  “You loved it. My sheets are soaked with you loving that shit.”
Rainbow Dash feels herself choking down some of that bile.  “I said NO.”
“Sometimes no means do it anyways. Gotta push your boundaries, college girl.”  Gilda sighs, like she’s wasting her time.  “The fuck is this, Dash? You said no the first time we fucked like a lot of times and like ten minutes later you were tongue deep in my shit.”
Dash shakes her head.  “That was different. That was COOL, that was-”
“I bet this whole time you were fuckin' thinking about HER, some fat lipstick bitch who just wanted to piss off daddy...”
“Fuck you,” Rainbow Dash says.  It doesn’t sound cool, or defiant, or anything near awesome.
A moment passes, the only sound Gilda sucking in a long drag of smoke.  “No, fuck YOU, Dash,” she growls, letting the smoke ooze out her mouth.  “I know better.  You can say no all you want but right now you wish I was doing it again.”
        Rainbow Dash scowls at her.  There just aren’t enough fuck you’s in the world.
Gilda laughs, high and braying.  “You are such a dyke. Just accept it! You love being roughed up...”
“GILDA!  WHAT - THE - HELL?!” Rainbow Dash screams, throwing weak, flailing punches.
Gilda slaps them all aside.  “Christ, if you’re gonna be such a bitch about this then just get the fuck out of here.”
Rainbow Dash stares at her, jaw dropped.
“You heard me!” Gilda snaps, raising her hand to strike.  “Get the fuck out of here!”
So she does.
She doesn’t even get dressed first, putting her clothes on as she stumbles out, muttering and cursing and sobbing under her breath.  She blows her way past the door, slamming it open and tearing new holes in the screen, and steps out into fresh air.
        Dizzy.  The fresh air slaps her in the face, sending her wobbling towards her bike.  This shitty house in this shitty neighborhood in the shitty, shitty town are all spinning.  Her face is burning, furious tears smeared all over her face as she hops on her bike.
        She hisses in a breath.  Hurts, hurts so goddamned much, fucking bullshit.
        Her hand shakes, dropping the keys a few times.  Bending over to pick them up sends fresh spikes of pain through her behind, sore and tender each time.
        She finally gets it.  The bike whines to life and she takes off, peeling out and spraying gravel everywhere.
        She doesn’t puke.  
No way, not Rainbow Dash.
Not for a few minutes, anyway, stopping by the side of the road and crawling on her hands and knees and heaving in a ditch until there’s nothing left to choke out.
She coughs and wipes at her mouth, and she sees Twilight - lying in bed with her, snuggled up close and giggling like she does when she’s finally, finally relaxed.
Her chest heaves and she retches again.
Oh.
So there was a little more in there.
> Scar Tissue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

She's doing it again.

Twilight pointedly doesn't look up from her laptop screen.

She doesn't need to, really. She can all but feel Fluttershy working up the nerve to say something that she knows Twilight won’t want to hear.

However this necessarily means Twilight can also hear the little whines the poor girl makes in the back of her mouth as she glances up from her veterinary science textbook—and all its diagrams of people doing intensely personal things to livestock—to peek at Twilight's expression and see if now might be a good time to step on a landmine or two.

Its infrequency and irregularity make it impossible to ignore. Every time the subtle little squeak sounds, Twilight's train of thought jumps the rails.

If only it weren't so damned cute. 

Then I'd feel a little less like a jerk for wanting to scream at her...it would be like kicking the universe's tiniest, most adorable puppy over and over again.

Twilight bites down on the pen in her mouth as she flips a few pages slightly more angrily than she really means to—

“Ah, dammit!”

Damned finger getting damned cut on a damned piece of damned paper—

She sucks on the tip of her index finger sharply as she inspects the book.

“And of course I tore the pages, too,” she mutters. “Wonderful.”

“Oh, um, I think I have a band-aid somewhere...” Fluttershy murmurs, reaching for her eternally heavily-laden backpack.

Twilight waves her away. “It's alright, really. Don't worry about it.”

“Um. Okay.”

“Sorry. Let's just get back to work.”

Immediately, Twilight realizes she made a minor error. In setting up an ultimatum like that, she'd given the other girl a little bit of an opening.

Fluttershy's face screws up with desperate courage and she blurts out a barely-audible string of words. “Wellumsinceyou'renotinthemiddleofanythingjustthissecondtherewassomethingIwantedtomention—”

Twilight forces herself to just stare, grimly, at the rapidly-reddening face in front of her.

How does she not just burst into flames or something? Even now, when she's driving me crazy, I just want to hug her and tell her everything's going to be all right.

But it wasn't going to be, of course.

Fluttershy begins to whine in the back of her throat again.

Twilight sighs, pressing her glasses back up onto her nose as she looks back down at the computer. “Out with it, then, before you...pop, or something.”

“Well, um...it's about...uh...my roommate.”

“Rainbow Dash.”

“Mmmhmm. Her, yeah,” Fluttershy says, apparently thrilled that Twilight isn't bursting into furious rage at the mere implication that Rainbow Dash was a thing that existed.

“What about her?”

When Fluttershy doesn't respond, Twilight looks up over the edge of her computer screen. To her mild surprise, Fluttershy's nervousness actually appears to be taking a backseat to something else; but to her mild horror, that thing appears to be sorrow.

Fluttershy grabs a bunch of her long pink hair in one hand and rubs it between two fingers nervously. “It's just that...um...”

“I heard she was out on the prowl again, if that's what you wanted to tell me. Took her all of five minutes,” Twilight mutters, looking back down at her screen, but a bitter thought finds its way out of her mouth afterwards, accompanied by a huff of disdain. “What am I saying...? She was prowling even when we were...whatever. Together. Ish. Meanwhile I, a normal human being, have spent the last few weeks doing something other than look for my next sweaty evening—”

More surprises, as Fluttershy actually frowns at Twilight for a moment.

“What?”

“Dash hasn't been the best person lately, especially to you, but that was more than a little unkind to say about anyone,” Fluttershy says, through the mildest expression of displeasure possible.

Twilight's eyebrows raise in horror. She hasn't known Fluttershy all that long, but she already knew the young woman well enough that she understood she'd just been slapped across the face and told to watch her mouth.

But thankfully, before she's forced to apologize, Fluttershy's sudden burst of confidence appears to frighten her and she blushes furiously, clapping a sweater-clad hand over her mouth.

Time to go on the counter-offensive, the veteran video game strategist in Twilight declares.

“Has she been with someone else, then?” Twilight says, not looking up from her ferocious typing as if only mildly interested.

“Well, she—”

“Yes or no.”

“Um. Well, I think so, but—”

Twilight looks up, pleased with herself as she sees Fluttershy wince a bit at the harshness of her glare. “Good for her.”

Fluttershy's face falls a little. It's like watching a small and precious piece of spun glassware crack in front of you.

“Thank you for letting me know,” Twilight says, with all the grim finality of a swordswoman driving one final thrust home. “I hate surprises.”

She returns to her work for awhile, the only real sensation registering in her mind the slight burning at the end of her finger as she types.

“Um...”

Like a spark in a room with a leaky gas main...

“What!?” Twilight snaps, glaring across the table.

Fluttershy opens her eyes and untenses her shoulders, as if recovering from a physical blow. “I have more to say to you. It's important.”

“I—”

“It's important.”

Twilight blinks. A serious, determined Fluttershy is a bit like having a little dog chewing on your ankle—you're surprised to find it has teeth at all, and it's more persistent than it has any right to be.

“Dash did something...silly,” Fluttershy says, deathly serious. “We don't know exactly what happened, but she isn’t really talking to any of us anymore, not even me. She's really messed up.”

“Over—”

Twilight bites down on that, hard, clenching her teeth together so hard that they hurt.

No, it wouldn't be over me. Don't be juvenile.

Fluttershy doesn't seem to realize what Twilight was about to say—or, if she did, is wise enough not to call attention to it. Instead she just looks nervous and keeps rubbing her hair in her fingers.

Anger smolders somewhere in the black void behind Twilight's eyes.

I never should have let her sit here with—

No, Twilight, no. You like Fluttershy. She's your friend, even if she is her roommate...it's not like anyone blames you for the things Pinkie does, right?

“I'm sorry to hear it, I guess,” Twilight says. “But it doesn't have anything to do with me, if that's what you're asking. I haven't talked to her since Halloween. At all.”

“No, I—I'd never, I didn't—” Fluttershy stammers, before settling herself. “No, that's not why I wanted to talk to you about it.”

“Why, then?”

As if I don't know...

“I...I wanted to ask if...if you'd...”

“Out with it.”

Fluttershy takes a huge breath. “I—we—that is, um, me, and Mac, and Applejack, all of us—we all talked about it, and we think it might help if...you tried to talk to her.”

Twilight freezes, knowing better than to trust her first, second, or third gut reactions.

Across from her, Fluttershy's face screws up as she braces for whatever Twilight says next.

But Twilight is pleased to find she can keep her tone of voice perfectly calm and firm.

“Do you know what your trouble is, Fluttershy?”

Fluttershy eases from her proto-flinch, her face falling into an expression of contemplation as she taps her chin thoughtfully. 

“Well, I'm extremely shy, obviously, that's always been a bit of a problem. My self-confidence and self-esteem are pretty touch and go, too. And I really repress a lot of emotions I probably shouldn't, because I used to get yelled at if I didn't act like the perfect little girl when I was young...and, um, I have a tendency to lose control of myself if I can't handle things and when I get really angry I say hurtful things I don't mean, that's always caused problems for me. Oh, and I sometimes can't stop myself from throwing up when I set a bone. Even a little one, like a finger or something.”

Twilight stares at her, her ability to communicate reduced to blinking and making a vague ‘ah’ noise from her slack mouth.

“Oh, I almost forgot. I really, really, really, really have a weakness for romantic comedies. Like, I've gone through three copies of Love, Actually and four of Moulin Rouge. ” Fluttershy adds, nodding to herself in apparent satisfaction. “Was that what you had in mind?”

“Sssssort of,” Twilight says, feeling more than a little derailed.

“What did you mean, then?”

Twilight clears her throat. “I was going to say that your problem is that you're too romantic.”

“Oh, definitely,” Fluttershy agrees, nodding firmly. “Absolutely I am.”

“And I sympathize, you know? I sort of was, too. But we don't all have relationships with Macintosh, where you two can't go five minutes without being so lovey-dovey that it's probably a form of theta-band radiation...” Twilight goes on, with a nonchalance she found surprisingly easy. “I think you all had the wrong idea about Dash and I. I certainly did.”

“Um—”

“Fluttershy, we were just...you know, sleeping together,” Twilight says, with a dismissive wave. “The first time we talked to each other ended in sex. I mean, you must know better than me that Dash goes through women like a hot knife through butter—”

“Well, I know she says that, but—”

Ha!

Twilight is the bigger woman, though, and doesn't take a swipe at this. “Look, it was just a...thing. I took it more seriously than it deserved, and now it's over and done with. I've got a lot of other things going on in my life. I don't need this personal drama.”

Fluttershy just stares at her.

Something about her expression makes Twilight feel very uncomfortable, like she wants to writhe in place. It was...

Disappointed? Sad?

No, not...really. Something.

Wish she'd stop it though, huh?

“What?” Twilight asks, desperately.

Fluttershy shakes her head slowly. “You were good for her, Twilight. You know, I've known her a long time, and she's never been more, um...stable. And she stayed with you for a lot longer than anyone else, ever. It wasn't perfect, but...you were good for her.”

“I thought so, too. For what it's worth.”

“And, um, I got the impression it was good for you too—”

Twilight lets the little flare of anger ground itself in a fist slammed hard against the table. Fluttershy squirms in place for a second, before settling again.

“Can't say I don't miss the things she could do with her fingers,” Twilight says, cold as ice.

Fluttershy manages to maintain her serious expression despite turning beet-red. “I thought it was more than that.”

“So did I!”

Twilight is suddenly aware that she is the subject of a lot of stunned attention from the library at large, including some unusually pointed looks from the librarians on duty.

She gives the room in general a slightly guilty but mostly sullen look before turning back to a solemn Fluttershy. “Look...I'm sorry for losing my temper, okay? Can we just get back to studying?”

“Actually, I, um...I think I'm done,” Fluttershy says, beginning to gather her things with polite haste. “But...um. Just think about what I said. Please.”

Twilight watches her get ready to go, trying hard not to glower. She is apparently unsuccessful, because Fluttershy's bashful, stressed little wave goodbye withers and dies. Fluttershy finishes packing her bags and wrapping up in a few more layers of sweaters and scarves than the brisk weather perhaps called for in silence, and with one last sad little look over her shoulder, scurries off towards the exit.

With a huff, Twilight gets back to work.

Most people have a hard time working when they're angry, but Twilight isn't most people.

Two hours later, Twilight quietly snaps her laptop shut and slips it into her bag, and finds herself in possession of something rare to the point of almost being a novelty: a whole weekend with nothing to do. 

She'd planned to spread her work out to fill the time as best it could, but, well...

As she steps out into the cloudy gloom of the late autumn evening, clutching her coat up around herself against a bitter wind, she can't stop herself from thinking that not three weeks ago that would have been something to spend investigating a lot of new and exciting ways two free days could be spent.

She sighs.

The truth is she's been at a loss to fill her time. Nothing seems fun anymore.

And not because oh my god, Dash isn't here, waahh. It was just...

She used to like being by herself. Nowadays, whenever she tried to lay back and enjoy a little peace and quiet, she got a nagging feeling in the back of her head that it wasn't what she was supposed to be doing. For example, now that she'd watched a movie hanging out with D—with someone else, it was like...yeah, that's how you do it properly, didn't you get the memo?

At least she could be comforted in knowing that Pinkie Pie would only be around occasionally. She was a lovely person and a lot of fun...in small doses.

Still that left a lot of time to herself.

Thank heavens for three dollar bottles of wine and lazy grocery store clerks—

“Ooof!”

Twilight is shocked out of her furious reverie—complete with visions of a half-empty bottle of something red made from mostly grapes standing forgotten as the joy of Team Fortress 2 really took over—as something she didn't see runs headlong into her gut.

She stumbles a bit, trying not to step on the shape in front of her. “Hey, watch where you're—oh!”

On the ground, a little boy runs a hand through bright green hair. “Owww...”

Twilight crouches down. “Hey, sorry. Really, I mean it. I wasn't watching where I was going. Are you okay?”

“Hmm? Oh, I'm...I'm totally fine,” the boy says, through a sniffle. He firms up his expression into an absurdly exaggerated expression of manly fortitude. “Never better.”

“Uh...right.”

Twilight offers him a hand, and the boy eagerly grabs it and pulls himself up with socket-wrenching force.

The boy grins. “So, hey, uh, you're Twilight Sparkle, right?”

“Y-yeah,” Twilight says. “How'd you know?”

“You've got to come with me.”

“I do?”

“Yeah.”

Twilight tries to smile indulgently, but children have never really...agreed with her. Especially loud, excitable children like this one.

“Can I ask why?” she manages.

The boy sniffs again, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his coat. “My mom said you have to. Like, all of a sudden, it's weird.”

“Your mom?”

Twilight looks up as the boy points.

Leaning against her car, Professor Celestia gives Twilight a little wave and a thin smile.


- - -


“You know, at home I have an iguana named Spike,” Twilight says, giving the boy a tentative grin.

Spike begins to reply, but his mother—not even looking up from her own pasta—clicks her tongue. “Not with your mouth full, Spike.”

The boy gleefully slurps in a huge mouthful of pasta, covering his lips in red sauce, before turning a suspicious look on Twilight. “Whoa. Creepy.”

Twilight tries to think of what to say. She'd meant for him to be pleased or impressed, but now he's just scooching his chair away from her with what he probably thought was immense subtlety, looking at her as if she'd just asked if he wanted her to sneeze on his food.

She gives Celestia a helpless look, but the older woman just smiles slightly and winks.

How did I get into this situation...?

Fair enough, this is way better than the noodle cup she was going to make in her room, and certainly better than getting caught in the rainstorm that had sprung up almost the very second they’d pulled away from the library, but...

If someone had told her, that first day of her freshman term, that in a little more than a year she'd be eating dinner with Professor Celestia at her own apartment, Twilight would have laughed. Professors don't do that sort of thing!

More to the point, Twilight wouldn't do that sort of thing. Certainly not with a professor of sociology.

After all, they call it social science, but it wasn't really science, right? There weren't any test tubes or electron microscopes or even any caustic chemicals, unless the immense amount of coffee everyone in that department seemed to drink counted. But the university required you to take some general education credits to graduate, so Twilight had glumly consented to taking a basic broadfield sociology topics course and planned to leave it at that.

And then, she'd heard that calm, confident voice speak with such quiet passion...

“Sociology is the study of people, in the end. So get out there and study!”

Twilight vaguely registers that she could probably swallow this last bite of pasta at this point, and does so.

Guiltily, she sneaks a peek at Professor Celestia. She doesn't want to say anything, but...

It was terrible.

Better than cup ramen, but so's cardboard.

Seriously, how do you mess up pasta?

“What do you think of dinner, Spike?” Celestia asks, mildly, as if she can read Twilight's mind.

The boy perks up, smiling hugely. “Gross, as usual.”

To her shock, Twilight actually feels an impulse to defend the professor, even as the elder woman chuckles and apologizes to her son in a way that suggests he always says her food is terrible—or that it indeed always is.

There was a time when she wouldn't have minded being a bit rude to the professor. Their first meeting had been a long chat starting with Twilight objecting to the methodology of social science research on principle, and she hadn't exactly kept the extent or depth of her feelings quiet.

It must be a conversation the professor has a lot, because at first she just had smiled vaguely and gave out some canned answers which probably would have satisfied your average undergrad looking to prove their chops by putting one over on Professor Celestia.

...and then Twilight had begun talking about probabilistic mathematics with a theoretical expertise that by Celestia's own admission would have severely embarrassed some of the department's graduate students—which is to say, Twilight remembered her high school statistics class.

But that's enough to be impressive.

An hour or so later they were agreeing to meet again the following Friday to continue their conversation, especially in the context of the assigned classwork...

Habits need to start somehow, especially since this one had outlasted the first and last social science class Twilight ever intended to take, no matter how much she liked its teacher.

And now I'm here, in her apartment, watching her try to keep her son in line at the dinner table. I didn't even know she had a son.

Now that she thinks about it, though, she'd seen the boy before. Twilight knew him as a sort of semi-presence sometimes sitting in the back of the lecture theater, completely insensate to anything except the wide world of the latest Pokemon game. It was a testament to his absorption that it had never occurred to Twilight to wonder who he was or why he was there.

Only after this does it occur to Twilight to wonder why she'd never seen any pictures of Spike in Celestia's meticulously organized office, and she pauses, watching the professor tease her son about something—

The doorbell rings, and Celestia's face momentarily breaks into a frown.

It's been a serendipitous sort of evening.

The professor's momentary irritation vanishes as if it was never there, and she gives Spike a knowing smile. “Looks like he snuck up on us again.”

Spike laughs hugely, leaping out of his chair. “Haha, yeah!”

“Wipe your face first!” Celestia shouts, but Spike is already thundering down the cramped hallway to the door. Twilight hears him shout with glee as the sound of the driving rain outside suddenly grows louder. An older male voice returns the loud greeting with tremendous enthusiasm.

Twilight tries to give the professor her best, bright smile as she takes a wild stab in the dark. “Oh! That must be your—”

“Ex-husband,” Celestia interrupts, her face as calm and composed as ever. “Excuse me for a moment, won't you? I have to give my son back to his father.”

Twilight blinks at her gentle smile. “E-ex...!”

“Yes, ex. Ah, if you're in the mood, I'd appreciate it if you'd make us—that is, you and I—some coffee,” Celestia adds, nodding to a little pot on the small kitchen range. “There's some grounds in the freezer. I'll just be a minute...”

Slowly, Twilight rises from her chair and sets about making coffee. She owns a pot very much like this one herself, a little two-stage Italian espresso maker suitable for—

For one person and maybe a guest, now and again.

She frowns, anxiously. The clues are all around her, really.

Now that Twilight is thinking about it, the kitchen is small and cramped, which should have been her first clue that a family didn't live here. And décor was at an absolute premium in this place; bare walls were the rule of the day.

This is a place where someone put their stuff, not a home...

She tries not to, but she can't help listening to the distant sound of the professor's conversation with her ex-husband. She can't make it all out clearly, but it sounded to Twilight like they were arranging the next time Spike would be staying with Celestia...in a month or so.

Twilight's pleasure at being invited here is fading, fast. This is not a happy place.

And I thought I knew her. I didn't even know she had a son! Much less one who she has to arrange to see on a monthly basis...!

The little pot starts burbling next to her, and she scrambles as she realizes she hadn't set out cups—

Celestia's voice rings clear from the hallway, lit with amusement. “Top-left cabinet, above the sink, Twilight.”

“Thanks!”

Oh, man, oh, man...

She hurriedly selects two mugs—terrible, ancient things both, decorated with kitschy slogans and deeply stained on the inside—and tries to focus on the coffee instead of eavesdropping on her favorite professor's personal affairs.

She's pouring out the very last of the coffee when Celestia returns, sighing gently.

“Here,” Twilight says, carefully offering the mug reading “Canterlot University, Class of __________”.

The professor takes it with an expression of extreme gratitude and gestures for Twilight to follow her to a beaten-up old futon in what Twilight supposed the apartment rental company called the “living area”. There’s room for a few overstuffed bookshelves, the futon, a coffee table laden with coursework waiting on corrections, a television that appeared to not get much use, and not much else.

“I'm very sorry about that, Twilight. Inviting you here was such a spur-of-the-moment decision that I totally failed to put two and two together. I hope it wasn't too embarrassing.”

Twilight gives Professor Celestia a weak grin and takes a sip of coffee to cover a rising blush. “Oh, no, I...I hope I didn't make things awkward for you, or whatever.”

“Not at all,” Celestia says, setting her coffee on the table between two stacks of essays. “By the way, I'm sorry about the food. I've always been a terrible chef—never got the hang of it. Spike's father is an excellent cook, so I never had to learn. I was spoiled, I suppose.”

Twilight takes another long sip, scrambling for something to say.

Celestia just smiles at her.

Agh, I hate it when she does this!

“I...I...um...I had no idea you were married,” Twilight stammers. “And, er, then...not married, afterwards...”

“Well don't take this the wrong way, but...good!” The professor takes a sip of coffee, as she gives Twilight a smile. “It's not something I like to advertise. It gives people the wrong impression.”

“It does?”

Celestia winks. “Sort of like the one I suspect you may be holding yourself, yes. But it was an amicable split, Twilight. It wanted to happen, and it was best that it happened when it did, with a minimum of nastiness.”

“I-I see.” A thought occurs to Twilight, and she adds, “um, how did you know? That it needed to end, I mean.”

A cunning light blooms in Celestia's eye, making Twilight clutch her mug tighter. “Is there some reason you ask?”

Ah! Won't catch me that easily...the last thing I want to do now is whine about Dash. She'd think I'm a complete child, compared to what she's been through.

She looks away, only sort of having to feign shamed embarrassment. “I'm sorry, that was nosy.”

Whether this was completely successful as a dodge is unclear. For a moment, the only sound is the hammering of the rain outside as Celestia pauses to give this some thought.

“Perhaps. But more or less innocent, and thus forgivable,” she says, with a thin smile. “That said, I didn't ask you here to complain about my life, Twilight, I—”

wanted to talk about you and your stupid childish problems that you are a complete moron for not being able to get over and just deal with and move on like a grown up and not a little girl who thought that having sex three or four times a week for a few months is the same as love

“Indulge me,” Twilight interrupts, and cringes at the bite in her tone. “If...if you don’t mind.”

Celestia half-shrugs. “Well, it's a bit of a long story, you know. I have an eight year old son, after all. I’d hate to bore you.”

Twilight gestures to a window. Outside, the bitter-cold rain continues to pound down. “I think I have some time.”

The professor just huffs a little laugh at this presumption and takes another sip of her coffee.

“It's-it's just a bit of a surprise, is all. I had no idea—” Twilight says, and immediately regrets it. She winces and waves a hand. “Never mind. I don't know what's gotten into me; I'm being so rude.”

“No, you're investigating. Trying to figure things out.” Celestia smiles broadly, as if immensely pleased to have her personal life pried into. “I'd expect nothing less from you. I don't mind your curiosity—in all fairness, I probably owe you an explanation after tossing you into all this with no warning.”

Twilight curls her legs in front of herself to show she's settling in, finding it hard to look the professor straight in the face.

Celestia doesn't speak for some time, apparently reviewing things in her head. When she does speak, it's in a conversational tone of voice, as if describing something that she'd heard about once but wasn't really interested in.

“I'm not entirely sure where to start,” she admits. “Except to say...well, in retrospect, we probably shouldn't have gotten married at all. We met in college, we were friends for several years, finally got together...and when I went to graduate school, he came with me. And eventually we got married, more or less because we were used to each other at that point.”

Twilight squirms uncomfortably. She doesn't want to ask, but...

“So...you didn't love each other.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid...

The professor gives her a blank look for a moment, sipping the coffee again. “That's a hard thing to nail down precisely, Twilight. But I think it would probably be true to say something like: he was in love with me, but I...”

She trails off.

Twilight shrinks in place, and tries to formulate a suitably eloquent apology for even dreaming of asking about this.

Before she can come up with something good enough, though, Celestia perks up a bit. “You need to understand, Twilight, he and I are still very good friends. He's not a bad person—on the contrary, he's a very charming man. Funny, spontaneous—at worst, he's a bit full of himself and can be a little mean from time to time. He's a good husband and a good father, and I still care for him. As a friend. But our relationship was not really meant to be...romantic, I think. We're much happier now than we ever were when we were married.”

“I see,” Twilight murmurs, taking a swig of coffee to hide her grimace of discomfort.

“And of course, he and Luna are very happy together—”

Twilight nearly spits out her coffee, but manages to gulp it down before she spreads it across the room. The unfortunate downside of this is that she has to cough and hack for awhile before she can speak, as the professor chuckles at taking her by surprise like that.

“Luna? As in Professor Luna? He married your sister!?” she all but shrieks.

Celestia isn't quite done laughing at Twilight, but she manages to speak. “Yes, he did. Well, he had an affair with her while we were still married, first, but—”

“Oh my god,” Twilight hisses.

“That was a bit of a...er, nightmare, as you can imagine,” Celestia admits, a little grudgingly. “Luna and I didn't see each other for a long time after that. But the truth is that the two of them really connect in a way he and I never did. They were in love from the second they met; I was always just in the way.”

Twilight doesn't really know what to say, so she just rubs her throat.

This apparently isn't suitably shocked for Celestia's satisfaction. The professor gives Twilight a speculative look as she adds, “I even stood at their wedding, in the end, if you can believe that.”

Her satisfied grin is all it takes for Twilight to know that a truly stunned look must be occupying her features. She's too stunned to be able to tell herself.

“So you left him because he was cheating on you?” Twilight asks, to fill the space. “Even if it was, for a...er...don't take this the wrong way, but a sort of better relationship?”

“No, no...we worked through that,” Celestia says, looking a little uncomfortable. “Sort of. I more or less banished Luna from our lives from a while, which in retrospect was a little harsh. But we tried to work through some other things as well, and it seemed like we were back on track.”

“Then, um...what happened?”

Celestia sets her now-empty mug on the coffee table and leans forward, giving Twilight a serious look.

“I want you to listen carefully, because I don't want you to get the wrong idea,” she says, quietly.

Twilight swallows. “Alright...”

“I love my son. Very much,” Celestia says, sitting back again with a sigh. “But, and you are not to ever even hint at this to him, he was not...planned.”

“Ahh...and you argued over whether to have him or n—”

Celestia raises a finger sharply, and Twilight's mouth snaps shut.

“I said listen,” the professor says. “No, we didn't argue about having him. It was a happy accident, as they say. But I had a very hard time with the pregnancy. The delivery in particular was very, very difficult, and frankly, I wanted to put it all behind me the very second I could. I went right back to work, full steam, and my husband didn't like that. It dredged up a lot of old arguments about my workload and a lot of other things. And so, eventually, we decided to get a divorce while Spike was still a toddler, so he'd grow up used to it, rather than trying to stay together and risk splitting up when he was older, which is always so traumatic.”

Twilight blinks. “That sounds like a very...rational decision.”

“It does, doesn't it,” Celestia murmurs. “And of course, as I've said, everyone's happier for it, even my little sister. Still, it isn't exactly pleasant, don't you think? So I try to keep it to myself.”

“I...see.”

And I thought I knew this woman pretty well...

Certainly, on the face of things, Celestia looks the same as she ever has. Same crisp, professional clothing, same lovely olive features, same magnificent mane of brilliant hair carefully arranged to flow around her face as if it moved by itself, same poise, same composure and quiet, underlying confidence.

She is at once that, and a woman who has gone through a messy relationship much more serious than Twilight's—

Celestia blinks, as if something had just clicked in her mind, and her face falls into embarassed sympathy. “Oh, Twilight, I'm so sorry. I've been so thoughtless...”

“Hmm? What? Have you?”

“I can't imagine you'd want to hear about this after your own relationship came to an end,” the professor says, covering her mouth with a hand. “That was very thoughtless of me.”

Twilight straightens up, startled. “You—you know about that? How?”

“Surely you don't think I'm the only professor who has taken an interest in you?” Celestia says, a spark of amusement slipping through the clouds of her embarrassment. “Professors know what it means when a star pupil's work starts slipping so very slightly, and then gets much, much better all of the sudden. And the departments are not hermetically-sealed environments, you know. People know you and I are friendly, so I hear things.”

“You heard about the B+, then,” Twilight groans.

“We all have off days.”

Twilight sits back, feeling tense and uneasy.

“It was just...a thing. I mean, it was nothing compared to what you've been through—”

That was a mistake. Celestia doesn't do anything so graceless as wince, but her eyes do close, slowly.

“Twilight, I didn't mean to make you feel like your feelings and experiences were less important than mine.”

“I don't! I didn't!” Twilight says, quickly. “Ugh, everyone says they just want to give me a chance to talk, but nobody listens to me when I say I just need a little time to get over D—over her. I'm not a robot or a weepy little girl. Honestly...”

“Her...?”

Twilight looks up at a raised eyebrow and a bit of a grin. 

Oh, damn...!

“Er...yes. Her,” Twilight says, carefully. “Is that...a problem?”

Or worse, are you going to be like my brother and offer to share your porn with me...? I mean, it was pretty good, but still...ew.

“Don’t be silly, of course not. To be honest, I sort of got that impression since I kept catching you you daydreaming at Rainbow Dash a few rows from you, back when you were a little freshman being lectured at by a woman in a nice suit.”  Celestia says nothing for a while, ignoring Twilight’s bashful scowl, but finally she smiles. “So it was her, then.”

“Emphasis on was,” Twilight growls.

If the professor has anything to say about this, she keeps it to herself and just gives a little half-shrug.

“Actually, I'm glad you told me about all of it,” Twilight declares, not really thinking about why she says it as much as making noise in a direction other than that topic.

“Oh? Why's that?”

Good question...um...

She does feel better, for some reason. But why...?

Twilight settles for an easy answer in lieu of actually having to think about this.

“It's nice to feel like you trust me.”

Celestia gives her a small smile. “Ah, well, I feel like you and I have moved to a point where we don't need to pretend there's a desk and a syllabus between us all the time. I do think of you as a friend, you know. Which is why I worry; I know as well as anyone that college relationships can be more complex than they have any right to.”

“Well...thank you,” Twilight says, enjoying the warm feeling she always gets when the professor descends from the lectern for her. “But there's nothing to worry about. I just broke up with my girlfriend—well, er, maybe girlfriend isn't quite the right word, um...”

“Oh, I see,” Celestia says, grinning in a very young way, as if they're sixteen year olds swapping stories at a slumber party. “It was that kind of relationship.”

Well, there's nothing I can do about this blush now. Fluttershy is totally rubbing off on me.

Twilight clears her throat and tries to look severe. “So you see why I'm not having a hard time getting over it. As she pointed out herself, it wasn’t as if we were married or anything...”

She says this blithely, as if it doesn’t matter. And it doesn’t.

Seriously, not even a little.

The professor taps her chin thoughtfully, with a sly look at her young friend. “I don't know, Twilight. That kind of...ha, fiery passion, shall we say, can burn you pretty badly—”

“Burns heal quickly,” Twilight says in a matter-of-fact sort of tone, as if by rote. “They're just surface wounds, after all...”

Celestia pauses, for just a moment, and some look in her eye makes Twilight worry she's going to insist on having a heart-to-heart—probably a one-sided “there are other fish in the sea” chat like she's gotten from her big brother. And Applejack.

And Fluttershy.

And Pinkie, although in her case it was “other cupcakes in the display case—oooh! Like this one!”

Twilight shakes her head.

I don't need another fish. A cupcake wouldn’t go awry, though...

But instead of inflicting another one of those agonizing conversations on Twilight, to her relief the professor just gives her an approving look. “That was a pretty good extension of a visual metaphor off the top of your head.”

“Er...I think it's something I remember from girl scouts, actually,” Twilight murmurs, shaking her head. “I don't know why my brain dredged it up, though, jeez.”

“Well, at risk of stretching that metaphor a bit farther than it probably deserves, burns heal faster with regular application of a salve,” Celestia says, rising to pull a slim DVD case off one of the overburdened bookshelves. With a wink, she hands it to Twilight. “I promise, I didn't ask you here to talk your ear off about my divorce. I just thought you might like some company to take your mind off things.”

“Blackadder the Second,” Twilight says, chuckling.

Celestia gives her a wry grin. “Since you keep 'forgetting' to watch it, no matter how much I nag...”

Twilight sighs and makes a show of seeming dismissive, although the truth is she's just happy to find the direction wandering away from Dash again. “Well, I was going to sit alone in my room and play video games all night, but just for you, I'll sit through an episode or two.”

“Just try to relax, Twilight,” Celestia says, popping out the disc. “Personally, I find nothing quite as diverting as cross-dressing Englishmen being sarcastic at each other, how about you...?”


- - -


Thunder rolls—a low, rumbling sound that takes its time finishing. It's not something you get very often in November, so maybe it has a right to make sure everyone knows it showed up.

Twilight snaps awake—

“What the...!”

Wait—waaiiit. I was asleep?

A moment's further investigation reveals that more than that, she's been gently wrapped in a blanket, a pillow has been shoved under her head, and her glasses have been removed—hopefully before she rolled on them and bent the arms, like she's done so many times before.

She blinks a few times and reviews her memory to the best of her ability.

So...the girl dressed as a boy, I remember that...and then Blackadder fell for her, because that's how comedy works...

What then?

After that all she can remember is something about leech farming, but that can't be right.

Well, no, we're talking Elizabethan England, so it's probably more right than I want to think about.

Tired muscles whine a song of soreness as she sits up, pushing off what turned out to be a pretty scratchy wool blanket. Somehow she was unsurprised to find that someone had tried to make her comfortable and instead she'd curled up into a ball and wedged herself as deep into the crease between the back and arm of the futon as possible.

She stands, grunting as she stretches her aching back.

The TV is turned off, and the lights are out; the only sound filling the dark gloom is the distant hiss of the driving rain outside.

Professor Celestia is nowhere to be seen.

Stumbling in the dark, Twilight tries to quietly move through the apartment. She is assisted in navigating by the helpful way her shins seem to find the corner of every piece of furniture.

Nice. Very nice. At least it's long pants weather, so nobody will wonder why my skin is purple from the knees down.

Hissing curses under her breath, she manages to find her way into the little kitchen again, groping for the table lest she run headlong into it and spill the dishes all over the floor. There's a door on the opposite side of the kitchen which had remained closed, but faint yellow light is spilling out from underneath it now.

Twilight is caught in a moment of indecision.

Maybe I should just go back to sleep...? Or is that as much an imposition as—

She sighs.

There's not really a roadmap for this situation, is there?

It was one thing to be dodging a conversation, and another to pass out instead of accepting the professor's hospitality—especially since it's not like she had been drinking, or anything!

On the other hand, it's not as if Celestia was inexperienced in what to do with children, apparently even if they happened to be twenty years old.

Twilight groans, squirming in place, unsure what to do.

Might as well ask, huh?

Guts knotting with nervousness, she quietly raps on the door.

“Professor?” she croaks, and coughs. The dryness of her throat tells her she had been sleeping with her mouth open...and probably snoring.

Wonderful. Dignity is really not my thing today.

There's a brief pause.

“Twilight? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I—”

“You can come in, if you'd like.”

Twilight's hand lingers, mid-knock, and slowly lowers to the doorknob. Something in her seems reluctant to actually admit that the professor has a bedroom.

Oh, come on, Twilight, stop being so weird. It's not like she's a goddess or something.

She's just a person, with a divorce and feelings and...everything. If it was Applejack or Fluttershy, you wouldn't think twice—although you'd probably watch your feet for something small and furry trying to sneak out.

She's a friend.

“Are you sure you're alright?”

The door is swinging open before Twilight realizes what's happening. She blinks in the sudden light.

It's a small room, just like everything else in this place. The nightstand and bed take up most of one side of the room, while a huge, dark dresser and a closet take up most of the other side. A large pair of windows gives a nice view of the street outside through some currently denuded branches; outside, the light from a streetlamp swirls and distorts as it flickers through the heavy rainfall.

The professor is sitting up in the bed, joined there by a pile of essays she appears to have been correcting. She's let her hair down and is wearing a pair of reading glasses low on her nose.

She looks tired, Twilight notes. 

Or is it just that she's not wearing makeup?

Either one would be as unusual as the hair. Twilight's not sure she's ever seen Professor Celestia anything less than fully prepared for the world outside, even during end-of-term crunch times.

“P-professor, I...I'm sorry, I have no idea what came over me,” Twilight manages.

Celestia sets the essay on her lap aside and gives Twilight a faint smile. “The very second you started to relax and enjoy yourself, you began dozing off on my shoulder. It was pretty cute, to tell you the truth.”

“I—”

“You've been running yourself exhausted for weeks now, I suspect,” Celestia continues. “I sort of expected not to see you again until the morning. I was about to turn in myself.”

Twilight automatically turns to the door. “Oh...sorry. Um. I'll leave you be, then—”

Celestia just gives her a patient look, which neatly illustrates that while Twilight's self-effacement is an unusual and sometimes pleasantly humble behavior, the professor knows when it's being used as a defense mechanism.

“Sorry,” Twilight mumbles.

“Please, just...sit.” Celestia gathers the essays up with practiced ease, the corrected papers laying crossways across those yet to be reviewed, and sets them on the nightstand, followed by her glasses.

Twilight hesitates very slightly before crawling up onto the bed next to Celestia, hugging her knees.

For a while, the professor just sits back and breathes slowly, arms folded across her chest. She's exchanged her usual suit for some loose-fitting lounge slacks and a zip-down hooded sweatshirt—which is weird, because the apartment is pretty warm even in this bitter-cold weather. Twilight is a little hot in her khakis and turtleneck, if she's honest, but it's not like she carried sleepwear with her everywhere just in case someone invited her over for the night.

“How do you feel? A little more...rested, I hope?”

Celestia's voice stirs Twilight out of her thoughts, such as they were when she's half-asleep like this. 

“Wha-? Oh,” Twilight murmurs, her guts tightening. “I, er...”

Is that an invitation to...talk? Was she hoping I’d suddenly feel the need to gush after a little rest...?

Celestia’s look of quiet patience gives her absolutely no direction whatsoever.

Twilight grits her teeth.

No. Keep quiet. If there’s anything you’ve learned tonight, it’s that you have no right to complain, compared to her.

She forces a vague smile. “I’m feeling much better. You’re right, I was pretty worn out.”

For a long time, the professor just gives Twilight a small, thin-lipped smile, before looking away and tossing her hair over a shoulder restlessly.

“I don’t mean to be selfish, but...would you mind if I talk about myself a little more, Twilight? About the divorce, and that sort of thing.”

“N-no. Of course not.”

“I just don't want to make you uncomfortable,” the professor says, with a serious glance in Twilight's direction. “You’re not my therapist; I don’t pay you nearly enough.”

Twilight sputters for the right words. “I'm, um, I’m here to listen if you want to talk. I’m more worried that I've upset you somehow. Er, professor.”

“Just Celestia, while we're in my apartment, please. And it's not you,” Celestia says, sighing. She reaches for a glass of water on the night stand and takes a short sip. As she continues, she swirls the liquid around and around, watching it idly. “It’s discussing everything about the divorce and my past. It always makes me...think.”

“Think, huh?”

“Oh yes. And of all people, you should know how dangerous that is...”

Alarm! Alarm! Conversation very much drifting into choppy waters...

Twilight tries to smile encouragingly. “We could always talk about something else. Get your mind off of it. Or, um, I didn't finish the episode of—”

Her chatter dies a sudden death in Celestia's sharp expression.

“Sorry,” Twilight mumbles.

“I've been thinking about...people,” Celestia continues, politely removing Twilight's last few statements from the record. “I usually am, of course. I'm interested in people.”

“That makes one of us,” Twilight says, automatically.

Celestia smiles halfheartedly at the old in-joke. “I was just thinking about how the way people hurt each other is so...important. How it's so illustrative, sometimes.”

Twilight shifts uncomfortably. “You mean, like...what your husband did—”

“No, Twilight, no,” the professor interrupts, suddenly—not in a harsh tone of voice, not angry, but it was firm and hurt nevertheless. “I was thinking about what I did to him, which led to everything else.”

For a long moment, the hiss of the rain is the only sound. Celestia looks back at the glass and swirls it a few times again.

“But...he's the one who cheated on you,” Twilight says. “And not just with anyone, either. With—”

“I know who it was with, Twilight. No need to rub it in.”

“Still—”

Celestia pats Twilight fondly. “Thank you for trying to defend me. Really. But think about it. He wasn't a serial philanderer, or anything. I wasn't lying when I said he loved me, very much, and took our marriage seriously. So ask yourself, why would a man like him have an affair, and eventually leave me for another woman?”

Twilight frowns. “Well...you said he thought you were a workaholic.”

“He's not wrong. You know how I can get—I even made you collate all those presentation papers for me last year.”

“That's no reason to, um...to cheat on you, though.”

“It wouldn't be, if it were the only thing, but it wasn't. It was just part of a larger trend of...how can I put this...?” Celestia says, taking a long swallow. “I hate to say 'neglect', because it sounds so severe, but in the end that's what's on the court record and on the documents giving him majority custody of Spike. But I think it’s better to say I just wasn't there for him as a wife should be...because I didn't love him. Not in a romantic way, anyways.”

She frowns, faintly, and takes another sip of water.

Twilight says nothing, obeying a nervous buzz in her head that suggested she'd offended or needled Celestia somehow; but it's nothing like that. The professor has just taken a moment to stare out the window.

And anyways, something about Celestia's tone of voice suggests that it was the wrong thing to assume. It isn't Twilight she's upset with.

The important thing—the really important thing—is to keep focusing on her.

I care about her. She needs me to listen.

This is not about me!

“That's the worst thing about it, really,” Celestia says, as bitterly as Twilight has ever heard her speak, which in comparison to anyone else wasn’t very much at all. But it was as obvious as ink dropped into clean water, even if it was just a tiny drop. “I try to look back on it and be angry at him, or say that there was fault on both sides. Sometimes I even try to convince myself I just miss him; but I find it hard to willingly deceive myself. ”

Twilight's heart is beating really fast and hard, now.

Celestia rubs her face to cover her mouth screwing up in pain. “The divorce—the whole marriage, in retrospect—showed me that I can be very cruel, which I find hard to accept. And it hurts to look back and know I could have done better, if I'd just done some things differently. I could have avoided all the hurt, so many times. But I didn't.”

“What...what do you...”

“It was my fault that so much pain happened. My fault that Spike will grow up with separated parents. All because I was...lying to myself, telling myself that, okay, I have a career and a husband. That's all settled. I thought it was enough to be supportive and friendly, but...no, it's not. Love is more than that...”

I'm trembling why am I trembling

Show her you're an adult.  Concentrate on what she’s saying.

“W-why?” Twilight murmurs. “Are you saying you knew you didn't love him when you agreed to get married?”

Celestia nods, vaguely.

It's a little eerie how she doesn't seem terribly upset; she's not trembling or tearing up or strained. She's recounting all of this in a resigned, matter-of-fact tone of voice, like a plowman working a furrow so deep that he wondered why he felt the need to plow it anymore.

The silence is unbearable.

“Why?” Twilight repeats.

Why would you—how could you do that to someone...!? He loved you, and you—

She clenches the blanket beneath her in a fist, hoping Celestia won't notice.

This is not about you, Twilight Sparkle!

Focus!

The professor gives her a reserved smile. “Because...we have something in common, Twilight.”

“I...I...” Twilight stammers, as her mind reels, desperately trying to understand what Celestia is saying.

And then it hits her.

“Oh my god,” she gasps, staring wide-eyed at Celestia. “Oh, my god...you were trying to hide—”

“It was a very different time, Twilight,” Celestia says, in a curt, controlled voice. “I have to admit that I am very envious of you for living in a time where it's more acceptable to be openly homosexual than it was when I was your age. Not that things are perfect, of course, but—”

She's interrupted by Twilight crushing her in a hug.

“I'm so sorry,” Twilight hisses. She feels tears leaking out of her eyes.

For a moment, Celestia doesn't move, or even seem to breathe. Twilight just clings to her, taking deep breaths in a hopeless attempt to calm herself.

Then Twilight feels herself gently embraced in return.

“I'm not even sure who I was hiding it from, anymore,” Celestia says, her voice barely louder than the rainfall. “But that's not important. The important thing is that because I acted on that fear for so long, I caused a great deal of hurt—to myself, to my ex-husband, to my sister...and I just barely avoided doing so to my son.”

“It's okay,” Twilight says, for something to say. “You had a good reason, you—”

Celestia gently pushes Twilight upright, so they're sitting face to face. “I had a reason, yes. But in acting on it, I learned about some of the less admirable sides of myself. How I can be cruel and manipulative and take advantage of others, even if I'm acting from a...let's call it a reasonable motive.”

She reaches forward and takes Twilight's hands in her own, giving the younger woman a gentle smile.

“And that's the worst thing,” Celestia says, the sadness in her eyes not managing to do more than accentuate the honesty of her calm, pleasant expression. “I sit here, in moments like this, and try to go over all of it in my head. Try to figure it out, hoping that this time, it'll be different. That something will have changed and I'll be able to walk away from it at last, my guilty conscience finally absolved. But it never changes, no matter how many times you go over it...”

Twilight bites her lower lip, eyes wide, as Celestia adds:

“Does it?”

She knows.

Somehow, in the dreadful privacy of her mind, Twilight knows Celestia can somehow see all the nights lying awake, agonizing over every word Dash ever said, over the way she moved and talked and looked at things—

And more importantly, the things Twilight had done, and said, and felt, herself.

Right up to and including shoving Dash away, because—

Because—

No, best to not even...to not...

But how!?

“No. You don’t need to...this isn't about me,” Twilight whines.

“Sure it is,” Celestia says, raising an eyebrow. “This is why you don't want to talk about what happened, isn't it?”

There aren’t words, really; Twilight just stares at Celestia, mildly stunned. 

The professor gives her a half-smile and gently brushes some hair out of Twilight’s face. “I knew that look, when I bumped into you a few weeks ago. And this evening—I could see it in your eyes. You look tired, and hunted. You're scouring your mind, trying to find anything that made it a little less Your Fault. Meanwhile, everyone's trying to tell you to get over it and that there will be another relationship—the last thing you want to hear right now. Because you want the next relationship to go right...like this one didn't.”

Twilight stares at her, just breathing. Her mind is...everywhere.

She looks away, blushing. If she thought she was childish before, making the same sound as refusing to eat her greens was proving it.

Celestia just smiles patiently. “What did you find out about yourself, Twilight?”

The sound Twilight makes is somewhere between a reluctant moan and a whine, which comes out like “Mmmmnnnnyeh.”

“It's okay. You know you can trust me,” Celestia whispers, a little more insistently. “This is why I wanted you to talk to me. You and I are two of a kind. Always trying to work things out properly in our heads. I want to be here for you. I understand.”

With a tiny whine in the back of her throat, Twilight raises her hands slightly to ask for a hug.

Celestia is warm, and her arms are strong, wrapping around the trembling young woman like a pair of angelic wings, comforting and understanding.

They sit like that for a while, Celestia gently rubbing Twilight’s back.

“I never knew how lonely I am,” Twilight says, her face buried into the soft wool lining of Celestia's sweatshirt. “I always thought I liked being being by myself, but...”

“I’ve always known. It's why I kept prodding you to get out and make friends.”

Twilight sighs. “We had sex five minutes after talking to each other for the first time. I got totally carried away. She swept me off my feet.”

“There's nothing wrong with that, in and of itself. I confess myself a bit jealous, really.”

“No, I...I know that, but...”

Celestia pulls back enough that she can give Twilight a look of cautious curiosity. “Hm? Was it just a sexual relationship, then? I thought—”

“It sounds horrible to say, but I almost wish it had been just a sex thing,” Twilight says, mournfully, throwing her head back to stare at the blank space above Celestia’s headboard. “Instead, I was...I dunno, we had something. A lot of sex, yes, but...even when we weren’t being physical, she was pulling me out of my shell, little by little. She wanted me around, and so did the people she introduced me to, and...”

I’m gonna have to say it. But I really don’t want to...

“I fell in love with her. Instantly, really. Because she wanted me,” Twilight says, looking back at Celestia. “And I wanted her. Bad. But more than wanting her, she made me so happy. She’s so passionate, and makes everything come to life—watching movies, playing games, even just sitting around doing homework was different, because she was there. I mean, I...I still love her, I think.”

The professor nods. “I believe it.”

Wait, you do?

“Wait, you—”

“What did you expect?”

Twilight frowns. “Well, honestly, I expected you to say what I’ve been trying to tell myself for a few weeks now. That it wasn’t really love, just...infatuation.”

"Call me romantic, but I think the modern tendency towards dismissing relationships as ‘infatuation’ because they’re youthful and passionate is a bit cynical,” Celestia says. “ I don’t know Rainbow Dash terribly well, but she’s charismatic and attractive, as well as being a generally pleasant person to be around—a little cocky and hotheaded, maybe, but that’s fun, too. But I can’t imagine it wasn’t overwhelming for you.”

“That’s the problem.  That’s what I learned, prof—Celestia  I learned just how insecure and lonely I really am.” Twilight slumps in place, not relishing the memory. “I couldn’t stop telling her how I loved her, and how I was so happy with her, and how beautiful she was, and...everything.”

Celestia hisses between her teeth. “That is coming on a bit strong, yes.”

“Yeah, well...”

“I don’t get the impression she cheated on you, though,” Celestia says, in a voice which was a little thicker with speculation and rationality than was absolutely necessary, just to get the point across. We’re Figuring Things Out (TM), is all. Nothing scary. “I think you would have reacted differently to my own experience if she had.”

“No, but she...I...” Twilight shakes her head, unsure what to say. “When I’m...trying to make it her fault, in my brain, you know, I try to make it out that she was losing interest in me. But...no, she wasn’t. I don’t think. It’s not like she started avoiding me, or anything. We had meals together, and hung out in each others’ rooms all the time. But she was always, you know...pushing back, a little. She never liked hearing me say that I loved her, for example—and the more she pushed back, the tighter I held on...”

“I see,” Celestia says. She gives Twilight a knowing look. “Window shopping? Wandering eyes? Whatever they call it these days, I never seem to be able to keep up.”

“Oh, yes. Lots.”

Celestia squeezes her hands tightly for a moment, looking sympathetic.

Twilight shrugs. “Eventually it got to the point where I was just trying to hold on no matter how hard she pushed, because deep down I was so terrified of being alone again. Just the thought of not being the only girl she wanted, and having to let go of everything drove me insane. I was so controlling, it’s terrifying...”

“And now, looking back, you can’t help but wonder why you did those things.”

“I’m not that way—that’s not how I am, I swear! I didn’t want to...I don’t know, clip her wings, or whatever. Part of what I like about her so much is that she’s so passionate and carefree and confident, but...”

They sit in silence for awhile, neither one really looking at anything, as they give this some thought. The important thing is that they’re not alone as they do this. They speak a silent mantra of gentleness and comfort in gentle squeezes of each others’ hands.

Twilight breaks the silence with a little whine. “And now she’s gotten herself messed up, somehow. And I might be the only person who she’ll open up to...”

“But not if you’re going to—and I am sorry about this—panic and try to clamp down on her again.”

“Right.”

Celestia gives her a sad smile and raises her arms. “Come here.”

The embrace is as warm and comforting as it was before, even if it is only for a moment. Celestia clutches Twilight to her long enough for the younger woman to cough out a few ugly sounds that were threatening to be sobs. Who had time for that?

Twilight feels...strange. Hurt, and lonely, as if her throat has betrayed her for not keeping all of this carefully tamped down. Having it all laid out has left her feeling ragged and exposed; but with her arms around a woman who had just let her spill without judging or misunderstanding anything, it’s not quite as frightening as she’d thought it would be.

It really is so important to be understood.

That was something worth keeping in mind, for later.

The hug ends, and with exaggerated fatigue Twilight flops down next to Celestia, her head sinking into the soft, unused pillow.

“I just wanted to hear her say it,” Twilight mutters. “Say it, and mean it. Just once. ‘I love you, too, Twilight Sparkle’. I think she did, you know, in her way.”

“There is a kind of person for whom loving, and being loved, is very unfamiliar.” Celestia reaches over and gently removes some stray hair from Twilight’s face. “They feel...vulnerable, out of control, like they’re losing their independence. It’s hard.”

know that, and in retrospect it is so obvious what was going on and what I should have done, but...” Twilight closes her eyes and sighs. “I really, really just couldn’t deal with it. I

She rolls over and curls up against Celestia, and then realizes she’s done so. 

Before she can roll away sputtering apologies, though, an arm closes around her and squeezes her shoulders, pressing Twilight's head into the graceful curve of the professor’s neck.

“I know,” Celestia says, somewhere above Twilight's head. “I know.”

Twilight closes her eyes.

She really does.

“But that's part of really loving and caring about someone,” Celestia continues, in a hushed voice. “You have to care for who they really are, not who you want them to be.”

“Yeah.”

They lay like this for a long time, letting the room fill with the distant hiss of the rain.

Twilight is happy to just press against the warm body next to her, which gently rises and falls as Celestia takes long, calming breaths.

“Feeling a little better?”

Twilight nods. Just a little, but that's something; she at least feels a little more in control. It's out there, now, the secrecy is done with and it's been said. It's a bit like how, right after the tetanus shot, you can feel where it hurt and you know it's going to keep on hurting for a while, but at least you're not wound up with worrying about it anymore.

She looks up, and sees the same extreme spiritual fatigue in Celestia's eyes she feels herself.

Oh, good job, Twilight, way to go.

“I'm sorry you had to dredge all that up, just for me,” Twilight mutters.

Celestia gives her a stern look. “Don't you dare feel guilty, Twilight Sparkle, it was more than worth it. And anyway...you've helped. When I told my sister about all this, she was furious with me.”

“Really?”

“I told you, she has loved her husband from the very second they met,” Celestia says, with a sigh. “It’s...affirming for someone to sympathize with me. I certainly don't, after all...”

They chuckle, even though this isn't really funny. Anything to let out a little of the tension.

Twilight redoubles her cuddle, which in base physical terms entailed not moving or doing anything, really, but mentally represented a lot of effort.

It hurts to hear Celestia say this sort of thing about herself, especially the more Twilight thinks about it. For all her protests that she is ultimately at fault, it’s not like she did the things she did completely without reason.

And it was a real shame to think of her lying in her marriage bed, for years, knowing that she didn’t and wouldn’t ever really love the person next to her--or, for that matter, that she didn’t really have her choice in who that person was, really.

Shame she’s a professor, and not just a few years older than me...

Like, maybe, head of a student organization. Or an upperclassman in my program. Or my supervisor at a part-time job...

Twilight hums sardonically to herself. Maybe she shouldn’t have written all that AU yuri fanfiction back in high school; it had clearly left her with a certain direction to her imagination.

Oh man, I would be all over her!

Actually, I’m kind of all over her as it is. Not that anything more’s going to happen.

That thought’s a little disappointing, if she’s honest.

Man, if this was Applejack—no, that Rarity girl...

A little bolt of shame—its fletching bright blue, yellow, and red—finds its way firmly into her guts, a reminder that she’d grown angry at Dash for almost exactly what she just did herself.

She sighs. 

I just really, really don’t want to be alone right now...no wonder my mind’s wandering.

And let’s be honest. Curled up, here, with her...

We have got to get her a girlfriend for me to be a little jealous of.

Celestia pats her shoulder, pulling her from her thoughts, and gives Twilight a gentle smile. “I’m sure you must be tired after all this. We should pull the futon out so you can get some sleep.”

Maybe it’s wishful thinking informed heavily by her latest line of mental inquiry, but Twilight senses the faintest hint of guilty reluctance in Celestia’s demeanor. But even so, that’s just...

Well. 

Well, well, well...

Feeling a silly grin blooming on her face, Twilight clings to Celestia in what she intends to be a playful way and puts some pout in her voice. “What if I want to stay here with you instead?”

The way Celestia tenses makes Twilight worry she's pushed it a little far, but almost immediately, the tension slips away and Celestia just sighs. “Twilight...you know better than that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Twilight says, unable to hold back a laugh. “You can do way better than me, right...?”

Celestia gives her a sour look. “That's not what I meant.”

Twilight sits up, unable to resist the urge to poke at this. For fun, if nothing else. “Oh yeah?”

“Don't be like that.”

“Be like what?”

“Twilight, I may think of you as a friend, and trust you, but I do have a responsibility to you,” Celestia says. “You're very vulnerable right now—”

“So are you,” Twilight says, obeying a sudden impulse. “And I-I’m just as responsible to you as you are to me, don’t you think?”

Celestia freezes in mid-statement, suddenly seeming, for the first time in memory, like she doesn’t know exactly what to say.

Twilight has been more sure of herself than she is now, many times, but something about the way she feels herself being pushed along doesn't feel...wrong. The words seem to just appear on her tongue, without need for much thought. On the contrary, thoughts seem to get in the way.

And it's not all that scary, really. She can see everything very clearly, in this moment.

She doesn’t want to be alone. Neither of us do. But...she feels like she has to be, because I’m... 

“Don't,” she hears herself say. “Don't suddenly try to be a professor with her student again. It's alright.”

Just let yourself feel what you feel. I understand.

Celestia frowns. “Twilight, it's not alright. I didn't open up to you about my past, and my sexuality, because I wanted our relationship to become something...roman—”

“Don’t insult me,” Twilight interrupts. “I just don't want you to feel like you have to hide from me or set yourself apart from me again. I want to keep being two friends who are hurt. And lonely. And I don't want to have to pretend like I don't want to be close to you right now just because you’re older than me.”

“I don't want to take advantage of you—”

And here's where the fun starts.

Twilight takes Celestia's hand, shakes it, and gives her a huge, smug grin. “Who said anything about anybody taking advantage of anyone else? All I said is I want to be close to you. Like, here, in bed, beside you. Sleeping or whatever.”

Celestia stares at her, utterly dumbfounded.

Then she smiles, vaguely at first...

Twilight winks, or at least tries to. She loves it when Celestia winks; it’s nice to be reliably told that someone is pulling your leg a little, so she returns the favor as best she can even though she knows it’s coming off all kinds of nervous. “But since you bring it up...”

I have learned a thing or two, haven’t I...

Celestia tries to keep herself under control. She really does, it shows on her face. 

But then she snickers, despite herself, before bursting into desperate laughter. Twilight laughs with her, and like stale air flowing out of a room that's had the doors and windows flung open, any pretense of seriousness or gravity flees.

“That really shouldn’t have worked as well as it did,” Celestia confesses, struggling to speak through the last few chuckles. She wipes tears out of her eyes. “I don't even want to know what you think of me...”

I think you are a good woman, a good friend, and drop-dead gorgeous. I think you’re hurt and lonely and I don’t want you to feel that way anymore. 

I think I haven’t been this excited in almost a month...

No, no, that’s a bit tactless.

“What I think,” Twilight says, giving Celestia a serious but open smile and squeezing her hand, “is that I wouldn't mind spending some time just...being together. If you want. I mean, let’s...let’s make right now just about you, and me, and not worry too much about anyone else right now...”

Something about that seems...kind of all right.

Still Celestia looks skeptical, so Twilight rolls out the ace in the hole.

“We’re just Celestia and Twilight here, right? Friends,” she says, giving Celestia the best impression Twilight could muster of the woman’s own open, utterly calming smile. It’s not good enough, not even close; but she’s doing her damnedest. “And we’re both hurting. Lonely. So let’s just be, uh...lonely,  together. You know?”

The older woman smiles faintly and lies back, arms crossed over her chest, and appears to give this some thought for awhile. For her part, Twilight runs over the last few minutes in her head and begins to wonder what the hell got into her.

Not that she minds, but, seriously, what is it?

“I suppose I’m owed one night of being a little stupid,” Celestia finally says, to the world in general, smiling vaguely.

Twilight’s stomach does a bunch of loop-de-loops.

Yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes—

Wait no instead hello performance anxiety, my old friend...

Before she can get too carried away, though, Celestia turns and gives Twilight a sharp eyebrow. “But listen. In the morning, you and I are going to figure out what you're going to do about Rainbow Dash. And maybe talk a little bit about what I want to do in the future, too, none of which will involve you as anything except a friend and confidant. Someone to talk to and drink coffee with. Yes?”

“I look forward to it.” 

Twilight’s perkiness is rewarded with a stern look. “I’m serious.”

“Absolutely. In the morning, I’ll remind you not to be clingy.”

When did I get so...aggressive? Sheesh! I’m scared out of my wits and I’m making jokes?

“Ha!” The laugh makes Celestia look much, much younger, as it settles into a grin. “That good, are you?”

Well Fluttershy did say Dash never stayed with anyone as long as me, but I don’t think this is what she meant.

It occurs to Twilight that she should probably say something suitably erotic at this point.

What would a sexy,confident girl like Rainbow Dash say...?

She considers a few options, but they don't feel quite right. They feel awkward on her tongue—unnatural and forced. They were lines that required an attitude of utter cool, something that Twilight had never quite been able to master.

Nothing for it but being Twilight Sparkle as hard as I can. It's gotten me this far, hasn't it?

“Let's hope so,” she says.

Celestia smiles and reaches over to put out the light.

Twilight sits up, eagerly looking down at Celestia, and—

And...

A nervous frown finds its way across Twilight's face.

You know, usually I'm already half-naked by the time we're laying in bed. I haven’t been prepared for a situation where I am not actively fending off the other person so that she doesn't grab my boobs before Fluttershy is all the way out of the room...

“I take it being the, hmm...assertive party is a bit of a new experience for you, Twilight?”

Celestia's chuckle just makes Twilight huff and look away haughtily. “I'll adapt.”

A pair of hands gently grasp her own, and Twilight lets herself be pulled down next to the older woman, who smiles at her broadly.

“Why don't we just start like this, and see where we go, hmm?”

It becomes apparent quickly that this really will not be what Twilight is used to.

She's used to the sudden touch of eager, hungry hands running over her, trying to touch her whole body all at once. She's used to kisses delivered with the same force and intensity as a punch, with a minimum of grace or flair. Kisses that spoke of need as much as desire.

She's used to fast. And hard. A rush, all at once, of as much sex as possible, now. She's used to it being a blur where she can barely keep up, where she lets her mind wander for a minute and the moment she looks back, she's already naked and her partner has her almost there—

That's the passion of youth in the springtime of love, perhaps. Honest and energetic, but inelegant.

This is different.

This is...slow. Comforting. Deliberate.

Calming.

Celestia's kisses are long, slow, sweeping things, like a billowing cloak in a gentle breeze. Twilight has time to feel the movement of her lover's body as they breathe together, and appreciate the warmth and softness of Celestia's body as they gently curl into each other. And when they part, it's not to desperately catch their breath, but to let their eyes linger on each others'.

In short, as nice as it is, Twilight has to admit...it's a little more boring than she'd been led to expect.

Maybe the trouble is that I have time to think about it...?

There's something wrong, something not quite working—which is a strange thing to think as she gently kisses her way down an elegant jaw and neckline being arched eagerly into her attentions. Under her lips, Celestia gasps and sighs as if she's never been happier.

What is—

Oh. Seriously?

Twilight kisses her way back up to eye level with Celestia, whose smile seems much less innocent with her eyes half-lidded as they are.

“You don't need to keep your hands to yourself, you know,” Twilight murmurs.

She reaches down and takes an unresisting hand, placing it on her hip. To her immediate pleasure, the hand suddenly comes to life, gently moving over her body, tracing the curve of Twilight's body with agonizing slowness.

Celestia smiles as Twilight's breath comes a little heavier. “I just don't want you to feel rushed.”

“Well maybe I want to feel rushed,” Twilight says, wryly. “I sort of like it when women want to take my clothes off.”

“Is that so...?”

Groaning theatrically, Twilight takes Celestia's hand again and guides it under her turtleneck, kissing her with a little more passion than they'd done so far. As the hand grows more ambitious in running over her skin, she rewards the attention with little hums of pleasure.

The warmth of Celestia's hand moves across her belly, along her waist, up over the swell of her hips and then back—back, towards...

“It's alright,” Twilight murmurs. “You can. Please. I want you to...”

Even with a bra between the hand and her breast, Twilight can feel Celestia's shiver of eagerness.

And to think just a few hours ago I was uncomfortable even eating a meal prepared by this woman...

But she hadn't been a woman, then, had she? 

She'd been Professor Celestia, the platonic ideal of scholarly achievement, professionalism, and grace. More like Athena—an unapproachable, distant goddess whose personal involvement in Twilight's life was a show of her immense grace and nobility.

Now, she’s smiling into a kiss as she helps peel off Twilight's shirt.

I think I like this better...

Twilight shivers, although whether that's the sudden coolness of the air on her exposed skin or the feeling of a suddenly much more enthusiastic Celestia kissing her neck, her shoulders, down across the exposed skin of her chest...

Bra. Off. Now.

She scrambles awkwardly with the clasps, to the tune of Celestia’s pleased chuckles.

There.

“You're right,” Celestia says as Twilight lets herself free, eyes unashamedly lingering somewhere slightly below eye level. “This is much better than lying here by myself.”

Twilight just grins. “Mmm. What about you?”

“We'll worry about me later.”

“Oh, come on. At least take that sweater off,” Twilight croons.

Celestia gives her a playfully exaggerated frown. “Young people are so impatient.”

Twilight begins to respond, but her words are cut short by a little gasp. Celestia is kissing her again, hands firmly caressing the length of the younger woman's body as her lips move over her. Her neck—no, shoulders—no...lower...

“Yesssss...”

Twilight has to admit, this is an area she always felt was a little neglected in her previous experiences.

Fair enough, she wasn't a supermodel with boobs like whoa. Still, it's not like a C cup is something to ignore, unless you were Rainbow Dash, with eyes firmly fixed on and fingers racing towards the finish line between Twilight's legs. 

Everyone has things they especially like, fair enough. And maybe compared to some people notnamingnamesFluttershyahem...

But, you know, at least notice them. They absolutely do not mind the attention.

Celestia takes one nipple into her mouth, gently, and presses her tongue against the very tip, rolling and sliding it across the warm, wet surface as Twilight whines happily above her, clutching the older woman's head. After a moment, she switches to the other breast, dragging her nose across Twilight's chest with deliberate slowness before gently teasing the other nipple into firmness with gentle nuzzles.

“How am I doing, for my first time...?” Celestia murmurs.

Twilight responds in the only appropriate way, pulling Celestia up and into a fierce kiss.

“I want to be naked,” Twilight hisses, breath heaving. “I want both of us to be naked. I want to see you...touch you...”

Celestia puts a finger on Twilight's lips, cutting her off—sort of. Twilight can't resist kissing and nuzzling the offered digit, mind swimming with thoughts of what to do with it.

“Mmmm. Twilight, relax a bit.”

Gaaaaahhhhh get naked! Now! I’m dying here, please...

Twilight gives her a little grin. “Come on, I just want to...reciprocate.”

Celestia closes her eyes, slowly.

It’s like one misplayed note in a piano sonata; it just throws off everything.

Nonononono that was supposed to be sexy...!

“Hey,” Twilight says, trying to tamp down the suddenly unsatisfied parts of her brain calling out for blood. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

She grabs Celestia’s hands and holds them to herself, which quiets the voices a little and seems to help them both relax. 

Celestia just breathes for a moment. “It’s just...I’m not a young woman anymore, Twilight. I’ve had a baby. It’s been a long time since anyone has...seen me. Naked. Anyone who wasn’t a doctor, anyways.”

“Oh.”

Damn it, damn it, damn it! Can’t you control yourself? You should have thought first!

“I suppose I’m just worried that compared to a college girl in her athletic prime, I’ll be a bit of a letdown,” Celestia continues, heaving a mild sigh. “I’m so sorry. I must seem completely foolish. I never worry about this, but the very second you laid down next to me and we really got started, my mind started running away...”

Twilight has to suppress a groan of impatience. Her body is screaming to be touched; she can feel herself craving Celestia’s hands springing to life again and just...

No.

Control yourself!

And think. Fix this. Do the right thing.

Be strong for her.

Gently, she lowers Celestia’s hands and smiles. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry, Twilight, it’s just—”

“No, I’m sorry,” Twilight interrupts. She sighs through a wry grin. “You see what I mean? About me getting carried away?”

They share a long, quiet moment. Twilight tries to ignore how her exposed breasts take away from the solemnity of the moment somewhat.

“Do you want to stop?” Twilight asks. It’s the right thing to say, even if every inch of her is screaming in dread at even presenting the option.

She needn’t have worried, though. The look Celestia gives her is enough of an answer even before she speaks.

“God, no,” Celestia says, reflexively, glancing up at Twilight. “No. It’s just...I feel better having said something. I...I want this to be...”

She trails off, but Twilight can still hear her finish:

I want this to be good for you, too, Twilight.

Twilight almost rolls her eyes. It’s like she’s a blushing, virginal young girl in one of those yuri fics or someth—

She swears she can feel her heart stop for a minute.

In this moment Twilight realizes—really realizes—what it means for this to be Celestia’s first time being with another woman. 

This really will be different than being with Dash. This was not playtime with someone who was confident in what they were doing, it was...

Different.

It’s hard. Everything in her just wants to be had, to be taken—that was familiar. 

She wants Celestia to speak with surety and direct her hands—that’s how it’s always been.

But now is no time for childish things.

She gently hugs Celestia, resting the older woman’s head on her naked chest. Celestia’s breath hitches for a moment, and she tenses very slightly, but almost instantly, as if it hadn’t happened, she lets herself lean into the embrace.

“We’ll go slow,” Twilight says, quietly.  “I’m sorry for pushing you.”

Celestia just sighs in relief, and with a smile, they continue.

It’s different, now. 

What was wrong, before, was actually quite simple; in fact, Celestia had pointed it out herself. Twilight wasn’t taking charge; she’s sort of expected Celestia to, out of habit. 

But that was the point, wasn’t it...? Here and now, things were different between them.

Now she takes the reins—although not in the sense most people mean when they say someone is ‘on top’ in bed. She lets Celestia explore, only guiding her very slightly like a mother sea bird gently correcting the flight path of a new chick with a tap of the wing. But she is the guide, the anchor for everything—and, as it happened, the body it’s happening to.

Which is nice.

Celestia is new at this. Eager, yes, and not entirely without an idea what she was supposed to be doing, but...hesitant, just like Twilight herself had been at first. Not wanting to do something strange or unpleasant, she balks at moving too quickly.

Twilight has to admit, now she understands why Dash used to get frustrated and have to almost shove Twilight’s hands or mouth the right way, which Twilight had always found a little scary, if she’s honest, although in an exciting kind of way.

But there you are: Dash is not an entirely good role model.

They go slow.

Little by little, Twilight can feel Celestia’s confidence and comfort growing. She gets bolder, kisses more freely, lets herself voice her pleasure as Twilight touches her in return...

Then, Twilight feels the right moment—not a word, or a sound, or an action, but a little lurch deep down that makes her move. The “gut” in “gut instinct”.

She puts her hand to the zipper of Celestia’s sweatshirt, and gives the woman a questioning look.

There’s only a moment of hesitation before Celestia nods, smiling faintly.

Off it comes. Twilight grins to see that Celestia, to some degree, shares Fluttershy’s issue with t-shirts—if she got one that fit across her chest properly, she’d be swimming in it.

That’s a bit of a change from being with someone who only fills a sports bra. Variety is the spice of life...

Celestia kisses Twilight's neck, very gently, as the young woman tosses the sweater away.

Twilight’s breath is coming in deep, lusty heaves as Celestia’s lips trail across her skin. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yes. But...as I said, there is some scar tissue, so please don't be...too surprised.”

Twilight just kisses her forehead and lets Celestia lean back to pull off the shirt.

Even in the faint light Twilight can see the dark stretch marks on Celestia's breasts and stomach, marring the smooth, olive skin where once her body had been accommodating the child growing within her. That Twilight was expecting, and thus it didn't take her too much by surprise; it was one of the little lies of the world which her mother loved to rail against that women just reverted to a base state after childbirth. Twilight Velvet wears her own stripes proudly, as proof that she’d brought new lives into the world.

The more literal scars are what really catch Twilight’s attention.

Twilight can sense Celestia anxiously keeping an eye on her as she takes in the thin but knobbly line running from below her belly button down to somewhere beneath the waist of her loungewear...and the slightly less ugly, but more ominous line crossing it.

She can’t help freezing in place, eyes wide.

A—a hysterectomy scar!?

“You know what that is, then? I'm impressed,” Celestia says in response to Twilight’s sudden tensing, forcing some classroom into her voice—praising an attentive and clever pupil.

“An aunt of mine had ovarian cancer when I was little,” Twilight murmurs, looking up at Celestia with concern etched on every inch of her face. “You didn't—”

Celestia shakes her head, forcing a smile. “No. But I had a very difficult delivery. They had to perform an emergency caesarian section, and the incision didn't heal properly. I would have died of septic shock if they hadn’t removed my uterus.”

Twilight leans over to Celestia, kissing her cheek.

She's always so immaculately, carefully dressed, Twilight muses. She always looks perfect. 

It's always been something Twilight envies, deeply, about Celestia—one of many, many things she envies. But now, knowing what she knows, the truth of it is a little more apparent. Those suits she wears—always in layers, even during the summer, and always with pants rather than a skirt—are armor, almost literally.

Peel that away, and you can see the scars underneath. The marks that life has left on this poor woman.

And let’s not bullshit, shall we? Holy shit. Holy shit. Those are some ugly, ugly scars, never mind the metaphors. Part of me doesn’t even want to touch them...

This is an important moment. A bit of a test, after all the lessons she's been put through tonight.

When it really comes down to it, Twilight Sparkle, can you accept that even Celestia, who is, let’s face it, something like everything you secretly hope to be someday, is as small and human as you are yourself?

And can you be there when she needs you? Can you love her, as one friend loves another?

Or is it really too scary to think that there isn’t perfect beauty in the world?

And I thought differential calculus was easy.

Next to her, Celestia is breathing very slowly, controlling herself. Waiting.

Twilight takes her hand. “Are you okay?”

A moment passes.

“Yes.”

And this is the important part. Don't patronize her...

“Just tell me if anything I do hurts, or makes you uncomfortable, alright?” Twilight says, finding it very easy to smile.

The gratitude in Celestia's eyes tells her that she just got an A.

Don't ask if she wants to stop; of course she doesn't. She's worried I want to stop.

But I don't.

I want to be here, with her. I want to make her feel good. And what's more—

“I want to be naked,” Twilight declares.

How’s that for a change in mood? I’m getting kinda good at this.

Celestia laughs as, with an expression of tremendous seriousness, Twilight fights with her belt buckle, rolling on her back to slip off her slacks and toss them away. They’re followed shortly thereafter by a somewhat uncomfortably sodden pair of boy shorts and a pair of long socks.

Twilight ignores a momentary pang of bashfulness as she gets to her knees and plants her fists on her hips proudly. “Much better.”

“I see you keep yourself pretty clean down there,” Celestia says, making no pretense at not enjoying a young woman putting herself on display.

I wonder if she can see this blush...?

“Well, you know...I, er, people were looking at it. At me. Person. A person, so—”

“I hope you won't mind if I'm just trimmed, rather than manicured. I know that the modern thing is to pretend you’re still twelve years old, but I don’t like how it itches,” Celestia continues, pulling off her lounge pants, revealing a pubis covered in a light dusting of her pale, brilliant hair where Twilight only retained a little dark patch right above her vulva, because according to Dash it was cute and when she was the one down there with the razor Twilight hadn’t been about to argue.

Twilight takes a moment to bask in the wholeness of Celestia's nudity, and finds herself immensely pleased. She curves and flows, and even nude and scarred seems graceful and dignified. Her breasts are full, her legs go on for days, and above all her arms were gently, but firmly drawing Twilight down into a tender embrace.

She's so warm. So warm...it's like lyng in the sun...

Celestia's lips find Twilight's neck as they slip under the covers, bodies pressed firmly into each other. Twilight's breath comes in a pleased hiss as their breasts slide across each other, nipples touching now and again for momentary shocks of pleasure which seem to run straight down her spine, grounding themselves in her womanhood.

She has to remind herself that there's only two pairs of hands—it feels like more, like her whole body is being clutched against the wonderful, firm heat of the woman next to her. Her own hands grip Celestia's back, sliding up and down the lovely hills and valleys of her curves as they kiss...

And down further yet...

Celestia gasps, eyes going wide for a second as Twilight runs fingers slowly back and forth through the full bush peeking between her thighs. She knows—from experience—how agonizingly close to that wonderful bloom those fingers seem as they run through the wiry hair, teasing the sensitive skin there with every movement.

“Okay?” Twilight whispers.

“Mmm,” Celestia hums, punctuating this with a pair of quick kisses. “But...”

“What?”

“Don't...don't put your fingers in,” Celestia murmurs, a shade apologetically. “That's a bit uncomfortable for me.”

Internally, Twilight grumbles a bit. She was kind of looking forward to feeling that lovely warmth, gripping down as she pressed ever deeper...

But no, we adjust to the needs of the situation. We be creative...

Of all things, yuri fanfiction saves the day.

Ah! Heh, yes, that might work.

Twilight shifts slightly, and in sympathy Celestia rolls onto her back, splaying her legs. Beneath Twilight's fingers, the petals of her lover's vulva spread and Twilight takes a moment to reward this by letting her hand explore Celestia's sex, gently massaging the mound with the ball of her hand as her fingers danced across the rest.

“And now, for my next trick,” Twilight murmurs.

She loops a leg over Celestia's, and presses herself against the woman's thigh with a humm of satisfaction. 

“Oh!” Celestia gasps, smiling hugely. “Oh, mmmm...I like that.”

Twilight just winks, and starts grinding herself against the smooth skin beneath her. Her lips roll and stretch, aided by the lubrication of her sex smearing and spreading beneath her as she lets herself pick up speed.

Celestia props herself up on her elbows and Twilight moans as a patch of wet heat presses against her own leg. The pubic hair adds a delicious scratching to the slick passage of Celestia's vulva across Twilight's skin.

They kiss, letting Twilight's hips do most of the work since she's in the best position to move. As she thrusts, Celestia's sex is dragged across her thigh, and as she retreats, the older woman presses hard against her so that they remain in contact as long as possible.

Eventually their bodies pick up the nice, easy rhythm, and they start to get more adventurous.

Celestia sits up a bit more, letting her mouth find Twilight's breasts again—and now, in the throes of excited lack of restraint, she's nipping and biting the pert nipples there, teasing them erect with firm swirls of the tongue before gently taking them between her teeth. The slight pain runs like electricity through Twilight, making her shudder and gasp, thrusting hard against Celestia's leg.

As her breasts get too sore, Twilight roughly pulls Celestia away into a harsh kiss before playfully pushing her down onto the pillow, marveling in the thrill of power before taking Celestia's own breasts in her hands as best she can. Celestia's eyes actually roll back in her head as Twi thrusts, hard, in time with gripping and massaging the older woman's bountiful chest.

Time passes. Sweat drips from both of them. The covers were thrown off sometime in the recent past, but at this point they're both blazing warm and are happy to be able to see each other's bodies in the dim light, both imperfect but so very, very close and so very, very good...

That said, it's pretty obviously reaching the “starting to slow down” phase. Twilight can already tell her hips are going to ache like crazy in the morning.

“I don't know if this...if this will get me there,” she has to admit.

Celestia shakes her head, smiling hugely despite the harshness of her breath. “No, I don't think it'll do for me, either...”

Twilight extracts herself from Celestia's legs, kissing her long and hard in the process, but doesn't flop down quite yet. The smell of sex is thick in the air and there's nothing like that to set her mind on one, and only one goal.

I want—no, need—to see what she looks like when she finishes. Oh, yes...

“How...how can I help you...?” Twilight mumbles, dimly conscious that her hands are slowly migrating to herself but not even caring a little.

“Well, you could keep giving me something to look at,” Celestia says, raising an eyebrow to match her saucy grin. She lets Twilight watch her hands slip down between her legs, obviously relishing the young woman's rapt attention.

Twilight leans over to kiss Celestia as she takes station next to her, cuddling up to her and spreading her own legs. Celestia is already starting to breathe hard again, hands expertly teasing herself.

It had never occurred to Twilight to think of this as something to do with another person before; but in the circumstances, she had to admit it was pretty perfect—just lying back, giving each other’s bodies very unsubtle glances, and masturbating together, enjoying the sight of another person's sexuality. Not making any pretense that this moment was about anything but pleasure.

It isn't going to take long, that was for sure. The very second her middle finger slips into herself, she shivers in a very familiar way that promises to satisfy the ache building in her.

Still, as long as she’s here with someone—

Twilight rolls her head and murmurs through heavy breaths. “You sure you don't want me to—”

She stops, mid-sentence, and stares.

“I'm—I'm almost there...!” Celestia murmurs desperately, biting her lip. “Just...mmm. Just...!”

Oh...oh, wow.

She's...gorgeous...!

Celestia's whole body tenses, arching her back and neck, thrusting her breasts into the air...

“Stand next to me,” Celestia moans. “Let me see you...! You’re so...so...”

Grinning, Twilight happily obeys.

In an instant, she's on her knees, her lips spread, two fingers plunged deep into herself and her other hand frantically massaging her clitoris. Celestia's eyes gleam as she watches Twilight's thighs clench and tremble...

“Oh—oh, yes—!”

It's not quite so romantic as they come at the same moment, but...it's close.

Twilight collapses—collapses—next to Celestia, who is staring up at the ceiling through half-lidded eyes, her chest heaving.

They don't say anything for a long time—breath just doesn't want to stay in their lungs. Twilight's thighs ache from overuse, and her breasts are still tender, but neither of those things manage to overwhelm the wonderful feeling of satisfaction flowing from between her legs.

“We have got to get you a girlfriend,” Twilight says, eventually.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Twilight says, rolling over to look Celestia in the eye. “I absolutely refuse to be the only woman who sees you like this. Oh my god, you are just spectacul—mmmph!”

It takes Twilight a moment to process this.

And why am I surprised she's kissing me, exactly?

Celestia pulls away with a strange look on her face.

“Hey, what happened to not being clingy?” Twilight asks, trying to joke.

Celestia grabs her hand and gives her a very firm, serious smile, and Twilight is taken aback by how small and vulnerable she seems in this moment—almost childlike.

But happy. Rewarded. Affirmed.

“Twilight. It has been a very, very long time since I felt...beautiful,” she says, quietly.

For a moment, Twilight doesn't know exactly what to say, but...

What else is there to say?

“Well...you are,” she says.

Celestia spares Twilight one final shy little smile before a much more familiar light of confident sarcasm appears in her eyes, and she grins widely. “Well, since you bring it up, there is someone I've been...hmm. Thinking about.”

Twilight chuckles. “Not five minutes after you finish and you're already chasing the next woman. I sure know how to pick 'em.”

“Oh, don't be like that,” Celestia says, giving Twilight a playful smack on the butt. “Anyways, I've known her longer than you; I worked with her on a study a few years ago. Something about value-per-tax dollar in low-income school districts, I think—she's a professor in the department of education, you see.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmmhmm. Cheerilee's her name. You met her once—remember? She was in my office once when you showed up for coffee last semester. Long pink hair, tall, a bit curvy? Very sarcastic, too, when she's not in front of students. You'd like her.”

Twilight scans her memory for a moment. “Uh...”

“And green eyes...” Celestia continues, a bit dreamily. “Lovely green eyes, very striking...”

Heh. Glad I'm not the only one who trails off like that.

Still:

“Think she's, uh...the right sort of person?”

Celestia turns to Twilight with a very knowing grin. “Based on subtle hints, like how she's constantly complaining about how hard it is for her to find women to date, I think so, yes. But I'm probably going to need some advice, even so. Someone to talk to...”

Twilight gives her a smile. “I'm free most Fridays.”

“I appreciate that,” Celestia says, relaxing a little.

She reaches down and grabs the previously-discarded blanket, pulling it up over them; now that they were calming down, the chilly weather was starting to bite.

And as the rush of sex and pleasure flowed away, Twilight’s mind inevitably ticks over. Typically, instead of lingering on recent memories insists on turning to a future that promised to be vastly less fun.

Without thinking, Twilight curls closer to Celestia, pressing up against the yielding warmth very, very gently. 

It’s astonishing how just five minutes seemed to have removed most of the sexuality from it, but in the circumstances it did to be careful...

“Is this alright?”

Celestia wraps an arm around Twilight and gently kisses her forehead. “For tonight, yes. Absolutely.”

“Good. Because—”

Celestia squeezes her tight for a moment. “Because tomorrow morning you have to make a phone call.”

Twilight sighs. “Yes.”

She closes her eyes. Exhaustion sweeps over her, flooding the war between post-coital satisfaction and forthcoming stress, forcing a temporary ceasefire.

The last thing she hears before she is lost to sleep is Celestia's calm, gentle voice:

“Don't worry. You're not alone.”


- - -


Bzzzzzz! Bzzzzz!

The phone vibrates loudly where it had been discarded on the wood floor, clacking and whirring unpleasantly as it danced across the hard surface with each repeat of the ring.

Bzzzz! Bzzzzzzz!

Bzzzzz! Bzzzzzz!

Bzzzz—

A hand—one very obviously more used to weight equipment and the outdoors than books and computer keyboards—listlessly feels around for it, vaguely waving at the ground until it feels the plastic casing and grabs it.

The dim light of early morning trying to peek through the blinds is accentuated by the light from the phone's screen for a long while, as the little vibrating thing is held aloft to be stared at.

A while more.

It starts ringing again.

Bzzzzz! Bzzzz!

Bzzzzz! Bzzzzz!

Bzzzz! Bzzzz!

Bzzzz! Bzzz—

Beep

“Hey,” Dash croaks.


- - -


“Wow. She came...”

“She’s not much for subtlety, is she?”

“Nope.”

From their vantage point a few parking spaces away, Celestia and Twilight lurk and scheme.

Rainbow Dash really is trying to look nonchalant, leaning against her motorcycle with her shades halfway down her nose as she idly taps on her cell phone keypad. After a moment, she slips the little white phone back in her pocket and resumes her lazy, apparently careless attitude, staring off at nothing in particular. But there's something about being outside your ex-girlfriend's dorm building at nine thirty on a Saturday morning just because she asked nicely that makes every glance or shrug at passersby seem all the more obviously defensive.

A quiet buzz pierces the hush as Twilight's phone vibrates in her bag. Celestia sits back in the driver's seat of her car, crossing her arms and grinning as Twilight scrambles to read the text message.

Twilight gives her a sidelong look. “What?”

“No, no, nothing.”

“Seriously, what?”

Celestia takes a moment to give Dash—complete this morning with messy but brilliant hair, a beat-up leather jacket, and aviators—a long glance before giving her young friend a sly smile. “She seems...nice.”

“She is nice,” Twilight says, a bit testily. But then her essentially honest nature takes over and she adds, “Well...sometimes, anyways.”

“Not too nice, then.”

“No.”

“Of course not. That's no fun at all.”

“Exact-wait, what—”

Celestia chuckles. “You know, I used to have a motorcycle, too...”

“Okay, getting out of the car now...” Twilight says, rolling her eyes.

“I did! I'm serious,” Celestia continues. “I miss it sometimes. Maybe I should get a new one, what do you think? Not good for taking Spike to school, maybe, but...”

“Yep, hand on the door. See you later—”

“Relax, relax, I'll be good.” Celestia's smile fades only a little as Twilight slumps back down into her seat. “Are you sure you want to do this? I could drive around to the back of the building, and you could just call and tell her you weren't quite ready. Based on the conversation you had, it sounds like she'd understand.”

Twilight doesn't respond right away; she just stares down at her hands and fiddles with her phone, offering it to Celestia to read:

I'm out front, btu no pressure ok?

“You see how she took the time to add the apostrophe to the 'I'm' in the first half of the message, but then didn't bother to correct misspelling 'but'?” Twilight murmurs. “I bet she just added that all in a rush before sending it. Like, she's really worried about me, but also really wants me to show up...”

“Possibly,” Celestia says, carefully. “When I was your age we overanalyzed people's feelings by seeing how many times they'd written, erased, and re-written each sentence. On paper. Like sensible human beings.”

Twilight snickers. “Don't be such an old lady.”

“Hmmph! Old lady...that's what I get for telling you about the motorcycle, I suppose,” Celestia concedes with a huff. Her playful expression fades a little as Twilight carefully tucks the phone back into her bag. “You're going out there, then?”

“She came,” Twilight says, watching Dash glare at a passing couple. “She didn't have to.”

“No, I suppose not.”

Twilight takes a deep breath before turning a firm look of determination on Celestia. “No promise it will end well, but...”

Celestia offers an open hand and smiles when Twilight eagerly grasps it. “No matter what happens, you'll survive.”

“Right,” Twilight says, with a determined nod.

For a moment, she seems like she's going to pull away and get to it, but something occurs to her and instead she brings her other hand up so that she's grasping Celestia's hand in both of hers.

“Thank you,” Twilight says, amethyst eyes shining with earnestness behind her glasses.

Celestia looks away for a moment, lips spreading into a mild grimace. “I'm not sure you should be thanking me—”

Twilight's grip grows tighter for a second,“For taking me seriously? For not being judgmental or condescending or telling me what to do? For being open with me? For being there?”

“I...” Celestia trails off, her expression half-irritable, half-amused. “I was trying to find the right way to say the same thing. You beat me to it.”

The two women share a long, fond smile.

Last night was...special.

That was the only way they could put it that seemed to get it close to right.

But now that night was over and it was time to move on.

“Look, just be thanked, okay?” Twilight says, grinning.

Celestia chuckles. “Okay.”

Twilight squeezes the older woman's hand once more before turning in her seat and getting out of the car.

The storm hadn't broken until the early morning, and the sunrise was struggling to poke out through heavy, grey clouds; but the air is still heavy with the refreshing smell of the earth and rain. Both Twilight and Celestia take deep, calming breaths, each smiling as the revitalizing scent fills their lungs.

Rainbow Dash notices Twilight standing at the open car door and suddenly scrambles upright, trying to seem composed and alert. Celestia notices that Twilight is gripping the edge of the door tightly.

“You know how to get in touch with me if I can help,” she says, in a cool, calming voice.. “Remember: Don’t try to make her say anything. Just make it clear she’s safe, and that you care, and she’ll come to you.”

“Uh huh,” Twilight murmurs. The young woman forces herself to let go of her death grip on the door and prepares shut it, giving Celestia one last little stressed smile. “I'll see you next Friday, right? For coffee?”

“Don't keep her waiting, Twilight!” Celestia says with a laugh, shooing Twilight with her hand. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Twilight repeats, and with that, shuts the door.

Celestia watches her cautiously approach Rainbow Dash, who tries her hardest not to seem skittish and nervous by feigning an outrageous amount of cool. Their voices don't carry into the car, but from the way Dash grows progressively less and less magnetically attached to her bike, Celestia has an idea that Twilight's doing pretty well so far.

She closes her eyes and leans back in the seat, sighing.

Well...good for her.

But the real question is what I'm going to do with myself now that she’s all set up—

A tinny, unpleasant tune sounds from the console between the seats, and without looking Celestia grabs her phone and answers the call before her teeth go completely on edge.

“Hello—”

“She's a bit young, don't you think?”

Celestia's eyes slam open. “Luna!”

Awkwardly, she rolls in the seat to scan her surroundings.

“Across the street, sister.”

Celestia turns away from the two young women, who were now in the 'a few feet apart but arms-crossed' defensive stage of their reunion, to the looming red-brick bulk of the Studio Arts building that stood across the street from Twilight's dormitory. A slim, pale woman in a slightly less-than-professional dress and a black blazer gives her a little wave, her blue hair swaying in the breeze.

She frowns. “Luna, what are you doing here...?”

The figure shrugs. “I got to your house just as you were leaving, so I followed you. Spike told me you had a girlfriend over, so I was—”

“Being nosy,” Celestia says, flatly.

“Curious,” Luna continues, not skipping a beat. “You must not be much fun if she's already fleeing into the arms of another woman. Although I have to say, that girl she's with reminds me of you around...what, sophomore year of college? Give her a mohawk and stick a cigarette in her mouth and you could be twins.”

“Hilarious.”

Luna laughs brightly, sharp enough that Celestia winces away from the phone. “Aw, don't be that way. I liked the 'hawk. Can't say I miss the smoking, though.”

“I swear, I smoke once at a party and you never shut up about it. It was a look.” Celestia slumps in her seat, taking a few calming breaths. “Was there a point to this or are you just here to tease me?”

“Am I ever not teasing you?”

“Luna...”

The younger sister leans back against a guardrail on the stairs to the arts building. Celestia can't see her face clearly, but there's something about the texture of the pause that suggests a much more serious expression is spread on it than had been a moment earlier.

“Spike seemed to think you were having a date with this girl—that's Twilight Sparkle, right? The one you have coffee with? Made her dinner and everything.”

Celestia rolls her eyes. With Luna, serious was a relative term.

“Yes, that's her,” she says.

There's a long pause.

“Luna, be serious—”

Luna's voice is a little strained and uncomfortable, treading the familiar but unpleasant ground of checking up on her big sister. “Look, Spike was pretty sure—”

“Spike is eight years old, Luna.”

“All that means is he doesn't know how to fudge the truth properly yet,” Luna cuts in. “He also said you seemed really depressed this week. You asked me, yourself, to keep an eye on you if you seemed upset—just like you do for me, right?”

Celestia just licks her lips. She had, in fact, said those words and meant them.

After a while, Luna says: “Do we have anything to worry about?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

Celestia raises an eyebrow. “That was easy...”

“Believe it or not, I do trust you to be honest with yourself, Celestia,” Luna says, a bit bitterly. “And if something did happen between the two of you, I know very well she would have had to yank the closet door open and go looking for you in there, so it was probably one of those probably-healthy-overall-but-still-slightly-weird bonding things, like in The Vagina Monologues or whatever...”

There's a dangerous moment of indecision.

What the hell. Being open with people has been working out, lately.

Celestia closes her eyes and braces herself, knowing Luna’s apparently gracious invitation to be a little bit of a trap. She was like that. 

“It was.”

“Oh, damn it, Celestia, she's a st—mmmnnrrghh...!”

Celestia finds herself mildly grateful that Luna manages to stop herself before directly incriminating her sister out loud in public, scarce as foot traffic was at this hour on a Saturday. 

“I know.”

Luna doesn't reply for some time.

“Yes, you do, don't you,” she says, eventually, resignation to the reality of the situation dripping off her words. Celestia glances back over to her and sees Luna rubbing her eyes irritably with her free hand—another late night, it seemed. “Look, whatever happened—it's over, right?”

“It never really began, as such.”

“It just happened? Something like that?”

A little spark of malicious glee flares in Celestia for a moment. She even manages a faint smirk. “Of all people I know you can sympathize with things just happening, Luna.”

“Hey. Watch it.  I'm not the one getting herself in trouble here.”

There really is something to teasing, Celestia thinks. “Not right this second, no. But I'm allowed a turn, surely.”

“Ha, ha, very cute,” Luna says, in a tone of voice that makes it clear that she appreciates a little back and forth but we are done now, thank you very much. Accordingly, she takes the opportunity to change the subject. “Speaking of things we take turns doing, I had an appointment with Cadence yesterday.”

Celestia stiffens. “Oh? How did it go?”

“Oh, fine, fine. But she tells me you haven't been in to see her in almost three months.”

“So much for doctor-patient confidentiality.”

Luna shrugs theatrically.

Celestia sighs, cursing the therapist for being so insufferably concerned for her patient's welfare. It was as if she cared about them or something. “It's been busy lately. Conference season and so on, Luna, you know that...”

The pitiful excuse withers and dies in the long silence that followed.

“Look, it's just...” Celestia trails off, pinching the bridge of her nose. Eventually she throws her head back, sighing irritably. “She wants me to take mood-altering drugs. I'm not comfortable with that.”

Luna sniffs. “Because I'm so much worse off now than I was before I started on Harmonia. I used to so enjoy swinging from mad, cackling glee to furious anger to depression four or five times a month. There's worse things than needing a little help with your mood—”

“I don't need drugs, Luna.”

“Well if you think what you need is a steady diet of coeds, I've got some bad news for you,” Luna replies, with a thick heap of snark. “I mean, I’m happy to see you with a woman after all this time, but I don’t want you to get yourself in hot water...”

Celestia says nothing.

“Look, I just want to talk.Sometime soon,” Luna says—a bit plaintively, truth be told. “I'm worried about you.”

A little ways off in the distance, Rainbow Dash is hugging herself and looking away from Twilight, talking at some length. Celestia sees Twilight toss her a nervous glance, and smiles despite herself, showing Twilight a firm fist of solidarity. She is cheered to see the young woman perk up a little and turn back to Dash.

Go! Hug her—there you go...

Talk things out.

Celestia sighs helplessly through a vague smile. She'd better practice what she preaches, or coffee with Twilight on Friday would be tremendously uncomfortable.

She turns back to Luna. “Get in the car.”

Her sister visibly flinches, surprised. “What—now?”

“Why not?” Celestia says, smiling at the figures of Twilight Sparkle and Rainbow Dash as they vanish into the dormitory. “For one reason or another, I'm feeling a bit young right now. It'll be like old times. You, me, and a car...and we'll see where we end up.”

As she pulls out of the space in front of the dorm, her sister in the next seat looking a little off-balance, the sun breaks through the heavy clouds at last. It looks like it might be a pretty nice day after all.