Scraps #3

Twilight Sparkle did not want to get up. Her pillow was soft and warm, her blankets had twisted into a cozy cocoon around her, and all she wanted to do was return to glorious slumber for another hour. Maybe three. The obsessive-compulsive part of her brain that never slept informed her that today was Friday, and that her schedule was clear until lunch (12:45, Rainbow Dash, Horte’s, ask Rarity to help pick out something nice to wear). At the moment, it was only . . . well, she didn’t know exactly what time it was, but finding out would require her to open her eyes and look at the clock, so she settled for making an educated guess: it was early, and she had plenty of time. She didn’t have to get up just yet. Sighing contentedly, she snuggled deeper into the covers and went back to sleep.

Or rather, she tried.

She hadn’t reckoned on the unexpected but intoxicating aroma of fresh coffee floating up from downstairs, nor the muffled thump of somepony knocking at the front door, nor a slight but insistent pressure in her bladder. She groaned and hauled the blankets up over her head. The coffee meant that Spike was already up—he brewed her a pot every morning, bless his scaly little head—which meant that Spike could also deal with whatever destroyer of dozing was attacking her door. The coffee would be hard to resist, but a warm, comfy bed trumped even coffee, especially when she was already in said bed while said coffee was not. Try as she might, though, she couldn’t ignore what her bladder was telling her: she had to visit the lavatory, and she wouldn’t be allowed to sink back into blissful unconsciousness until she did.

“Fine,” Twilight grumbled to her pillow, which listened sympathetically but was unable to do much about her tinkling needs. Groaning, she shoved the blankets away and oozed off the bed and onto the floor. After one last wistful look at her bed—so warm, so snuggly, so tragically unoccupied—she turned and willed her reluctant hooves into motion, beginning the long march to the bathroom. (Spike had once asked her why she didn’t simply teleport there; she in turn had asked him if he knew what it was like to magically deconstruct oneself at the atomic level and translocate through a tree library without imbibing even one cup of coffee. There was still a dent in the shower wall from when she’d tried it before.)

Twilight slowly made her way down from her bedroom, her nose twitching as the smell of coffee grew stronger, and her ears twitching as the sound of voices grew louder. Downstairs, Spike was talking with . . . somepony; she couldn’t quite make out the voice. She briefly wondered who would visit the library at such a ridiculous hour, then decided she had more pressing matters to worry about—namely, would she even be able to get back to sleep after this? Extra stimuli were not conducive to snoozing peacefully, especially with her cognitive centers already dangerously close to full awakeness.

Twilight finally shuffled into the bathroom, shut the door behind herself, and proceeded to conduct the necessary business. That was one distraction neutralized, at least. Judging from the lack of voices downstairs, Spike had dealt with the interloper, so she’d have peace and quiet again. Now all she had to do was avoid the siren smell of coffee. She opened the door—

—and nearly walked into the small purple dragon waiting just outside. “Oh. Good morning, Spike,” Twilight rasped. She thought she should perhaps ask her number one assistant why he was lurking by the door to the bathroom with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand; then her brain realized that he had a steaming cup of coffee in one hand, and why became patently immaterial. Horn glowing, she snatched up the mug with her magic, lifted it to her muzzle to savor the aroma, then sipped carefully. She closed her eyes and hummed happily as the caffeinated ambrosia burned its way down her throat and into her belly. It was strong, dark, and sweet, just the way she liked it. As always, it conjured up pleasant memories of the all-nighters she’d pulled at Joe’s back in Canterlot, hunched over a nice thick tome while surrounded by piles of books and glazed doughnuts, a bottomless pot of Joe’s excellent coffee close at hoof.

“Geez, Twilight,” grumbled Spike, snapping her back to the present. “Way to take my coffee without even asking.”

“Huh?” Twilight looked at the mug, then at Spike, the wheels in her head grinding laboriously as she considered what she’d just done. “Oh. Oh, Spike, I’m so sorry. That was rude of me. It’s just that normally I’m the only one who drinks it, and, well, you normally make it for me, and I just assumed . . . ” Suddenly her eyes narrowed, and she peered at Spike. The little dragon’s glower kept jerking into what looked suspiciously like a grin. “Wait. You don’t even drink coffee.”

Spike gave up and guffawed. “Gotcha!”

Twilight groaned. “Ha, ha. Very funny, Spike. Honestly, you and your pranks. You’ve been spending too much time with Rainbow Dash.”

Spike lifted an eyebrow. “Really? I’m the one who’s been spending too much time with Rainbow Dash?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Twilight asked, puzzled. For some altogether inexplicable reason, she could feel her face heating up. How odd. She must’ve downed the coffee too quickly.

Spike sighed and shook his head. “Nothing, Twilight. Never mind. Rarity was right,” he muttered. “Completely clueless.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.”

Twilight sighed. “Fine, have it your way. Thank you for the coffee. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going back to sleep.” At any rate, she would try. She rather suspected it was a lost cause at this point, but lounging in bed with a cup of coffee and perhaps a book would be almost as good.

“Wait!” said Spike. “There’s somepony who wants to see you downstairs.”

“Spike, the library doesn’t open until ten,” Twilight said, as patiently as could be expected when the universe seemed intent on keeping her from her bed. “ It’s only . . . um, what time is it?”

“Just after seven. And he’s not here for a book, Twilight. He’s asking for you specifically. He says he’s from Canterlot and that he needs your help with ‘an exceedingly important matter.’” The dragon waggled his claws to make air quotes.

Twilight frowned. An exceedingly important matter? An unexpected visitor from Canterlot? Had Princess Celestia sent him? Was there something wrong? Should she round up Rainbow Dash and the rest of the girls and hurry to Canterlot for the Elements—no. Taking a deep breath, she crushed her growing anxiety beneath the cold hoof of logic. If Equestria was facing a serious threat, the princess would obviously have sent her a message through Spike; ergo, whatever this visitor wanted her help with obviously wasn’t of save-the-nation importance.