//------------------------------//
// Sense and Flammability (1) 
// Story: Super Pony Roomies 
// by TheManehattanite 
//------------------------------//


1


“So pizza face is the Spider-Pony?” 

Twilight Sparkle looked up from Ridcully the Brown’s A Hundred and One Uses for a Pocket Dimension Inside Yer Hat and pouted at Rainbow Dash, sprawled upside down on one of the library’s bean bag chairs because reading like a normal pony was for squares. 

“Rainbow! Don’t call him that!”

“Okay, okay, your colt friend…is the Spider-Pony?”

“He doesn’t like the ‘The” Spike said, looking up from dusting a horsehead bust, “says without a prefix it looks like he’s trying to make a big deal out of it.” 

“Okay. Cool. Did he have that thing on his face before or after he got all spidery?” 

“Before,” Twilight said primly. “I happen to think it makes him look rather distinguished. And yes, Peter is Spider-Pony. This is why I invited him and his aunt over for Hearth's Warming, so I could tell everypony at once! Well, in private of course, but you and Applejack were busy trying to see who could balance on top of the tree the longest.” 

“Too busy having fun at a party.” Rainbow flipped a page, probably for the appearance of nonchalance. “Only in your universe, Twilight. Though, ya landed not just a coltfriend but a super pony at that, so props I guess.” 

“Thanks. There’s honestly only so many times you can team up, that’s the costumed communities term for it I believe, before you realise you have more in common than just stopping a necronuclear reactor from melting down.” Twilight was slightly proud of herself for not blushing. Much. “You’re taking it pretty well. Not so much as a wing flap!”

“Eh. I mean sure, the web-head was cooler back when he was a mystery and all, but Pete’s a good dude. If he’s helpin’ ponies in his free time it just means he’s an even better dude.” 

Twilight smiled at that. 

“And if things get too boring,” Rainbow continued, “we can spice 'em up betting on what kinda drama the two of you'll get yourselves into!”

Twilight stopped smiling. “Drama? What drama, there’s no drama, why does there have to be drama, who said there’d be drama?!” 

“Uh, the universe?” Dash rolled her eyes. She was never going to find out who cut Daring’s rope in chapter twelve at this rate! “You’re a couple of dorks with magic powers, one of you has a rogues gallery, the other prevents the apocalypse, like, every other Tuesday. Stuff’s gonna happen.”

“Is not!” Twilight countered, drawing on everything her mentor had taught her since she was eight years old. “And besides Zecora has this one text that leads me to believe Peter’s abilities may be more totemistic in nature than regularly mystic, bu-but that is beside the point! I—We are simply a couple of regular ponies surrounded by extraordinary events and stuff is most certainly not going to happen to us! I find your assertions presumptuous and slapdash at best, Rainbow Dash!”

“I think I’m gonna barf,” Spike said simply.

“Indeed, Spike! Indeed!” 

“No, I mean we’ve got inco--” Both girls flinched as he spontaneously hacked the royal scroll out of a burst of emerald flame. Twilight got to enjoy the karma of it bouncing off Rainbow’s face before catching it in her telekinesis.

“It’s from Princess Celestia!” 

“No foolin’,” Dash muttered, rubbing her forehead. 

“To my faithful student, Twilight Sparkle,” Twilight read, “I hope this letter finds you and your friends well, especially after helping restore the Crystal Empire. Yes Spike, the crown is still aware of the vital role you played, and we are still very proud of you. That is why we built you that window.”

Spike’s fins blushed.

“‘Once again you have all honoured Equestria through the magic of Friendship, but events have made me nostalgic for simpler, though no less interesting, times before you set off into the world. While I couldn’t be prouder of the way you’ve made for yourself I would be honoured if you could join me tomorrow in the royal gardens for a spot of tea and catching up.’ Gosh!” 

“I’ll grab our rail passes!” Spike beamed. “Uh…Twilight? You okay?”

“Oh PS;” Twilight croaked, “I hope you don’t mind if I take the liberty of inviting your young colt along. Cadence told me about him when we shared a copy of the Derby Bugle and it would be wonderful to hear how the two of you found the Magic of Friendship with each other…and perhaps more!”

“Okay, why the shellshock?” Rainbow asked. “Is Pete allergic to tea or something.”

“My mentor wants to meet my boyfriend.” Twilight’s purple pupils were tiny now. “The pony who taught me everything I know wants to meet my boyfriend. My mentor. Who is the government. My boyfriend. Who is a vigilante.”

“So?”

“I haven’t even told my parents about Peter yet!”

“And so, it begins,” Dash leered, closing her book.


2


“So Princess Girlfriend enslaved a dragon? Because not gonna lie, that’s pretty metal.” 

The Horseshoe Torch barrel rolled lazily in mid-air as a wrecking ball bludgeoned the airspace he’d been occupying seconds earlier. 

“He’s more like a…little brother/butler?” Spider-Pony mulled Spike over as he fired off a web-line from his tail, yanking away a manhole cover and leaving a charging Bulldozer a nice long plummet into the sewers. “I dunno man, there’s a lot going on there. Also, could we maybe not have this private conversation in the middle of a public brawl?” 

“Oh yeah, because if anyone’s gonna pay attention it’s the Wrecking Crew.” Johnny took a second out of lobbing fireballs to wave to the leader, resplendent in his purple sock mask and angrily waving his crowbar. “Hey Wrecker, what were we just talking about?”

“WE’RE GONNA PULVERISE YOUSE!” 

“See?”

“Hey, credit where it’s due,” Spidey pointed out, “Thunderball’s got a PhD.” 

“Indeed, fools!” the villain bellowed as he whipped his wrecking ball around for another swing. “A PhD in pain!”

The two heroes pulled the fastest limbo poses of their lives to avoid the shot. Piledriver, still trapped in a flash-melted section of street, yelped as the chain yanked taut, the ball stopping inches from his face.

“Though it makes you wonder,” Spidey mused, flipping over the chain as it rewound, “what kind of pain precisely?” 

Thunderball stopped winding up, squinting. “What…?”

“Oh y’know, just what kind of pain.” The Torch shrugged, casually hovering in mid-air. “Like, sure, the giant namesake packs a mean wallop but is physical pain the most nuance a bull of your calibre is capable of?” 

“What about emotional?” Spidey concurred. 

“Spiritual?” 

“Dental?” 

“Ocular?”

“Ocular?!” Thunderball repeated. 

“Ocular,” the Torch said and flared white hot. Thunderball cried out, recoiling from the strobe effect. Blinded and enraged he charged at where he remembered the two pests had been. And vanished down the still open manhole. 

“And she’s not a princess,” Spidey said as though nothing had happened. He looked askance at a bent lamp post. “Yet. Her mentor on the other hoof…”

“Are you sure that invite came from her?”

“It was sitting on my kitchen table in a beam of sunlight. With sparkles and tiny birds.”

“Oof,” Johnny winced, sending a puff of sparks from between his teeth. “Bluebirds?” 

“They actually cleaned the kitchen!”

“Yeah, that’s her alright. Sue tried to find out if she could get a tiny legion to vacuum the house, because she can’t admit H.E.R.B.I.E. creeps her out like the rest of us, but he found out and ran to Reed and cried. It was great.”

“So what happened to them?”

“Dunno. Our pigeons probably ate them or something. Anyway, what’s the deal? Your every third pity party is about how you could get a little more recognition. Princess Celestia’s, like, the definition of recognition.” 

“Right, but she didn’t ask for her Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Pony.” Spidey demonstrably tugged his mask’s muzzle as far as it would go before letting it snap back into place. “She asked for me. For the real guy. I haven’t even met Twilight’s actual parents yet!”

“Okay, not touching that one,” the Torch said calmly holding up a hoof. “So you’re looking for what? A pep talk? A wing pony? Somepony with experience in royalty mingling and medal acceptance?” 

“A new suit.” Peter actually rubbed the back of his neck like something out of Sue’s Neighponese anime. “Like a for real suit for grown up pony things.”

Johnny raised one perfect golden eyebrow. “Go on…”

Peter shrugged. “The All-Mother asked me over for tea, I need to make a good first impression. You’re you and so have, in this order, the ego, connections, and fashion sense I need to do it in like a day. Begging is optional.”

“You’re right,” Johnny agreed, admiring his flaming reflection in the puddle from a smashed hydrant, “I am me.”

“Johnny!”

“Sure, sure. Ugh, you second tier heroes and your ‘real world problems’. We’ll swing by Saddle Row when we’re done here.” He frowned. “I feel like we’re forgetting something.” 

“Spider-Sense! Ting—!” 

Too late! The force of the Wrecker bursting out the bank’s remaining wall sent them both tumbling down the street like leaves in a gale. An abandoned delivery cart helpfully let them stop by smacking into it.

“Are you two twerps still here?!” The Wrecker irritably released the pallets of gold bars he’d been carrying on his back and put a hoof to his mouth for a sharp whistle. 

An annoyed looking Piledriver burst up through his prison, standing on the shoulders of the equally irritated Thunderball and Bulldozer. The Wrecker sat on his haunches, doing the old pat-the-crowbar-into-your-hoof routine as they advanced on the heroes. 

Spider-Pony sprung back up into one of those creepy signature crouches, ready for the next round, but shot the still recovering Johnny a look nervous about prospects beyond just going hoof-to-hoof with four bulls strong enough to fight the Mighty Sleipnir to a standstill.

“After the other thing?”

“Right,” Johnny muttered, cracking his neck and reigniting, “after the other thing.”


3


Rarity flung herself behind the overturned fainting couch and quickly smoothed down her mane. Behind her the sound of extra-large Milliners needles clashing off each other intensified, as animated captain dress uniforms attempted to capture more of the boutique’s floor space from insolent lieutenant dress uniforms.  

“How are we doing? It’s just that Fluttershy bought me those to make up for that Iron Will incident and I’d hate for them to get all scratched.” 

“Still warming up, sorry.” Twilight’s eyes were only ever-so-slightly glowing as she glanced up from the sewing machine. “It’s not this tea thing, I swear I’m focused, it’s just the sounds of battle are really loud and I’m channelling a lot of not-exactly-life force here, you know?” 

“Oh no, no, take your time Twilight,” Rarity soothed “We wouldn’t want to cast an imperfect spell and turn my entire shop into a smoking crater!”

“Yes! I’m absolutely not now thinking about that in addition to how to contain and counteract an ancient animation spell, which is still like juggling nitroglycerine by the way, keeping this infernal machine still so I can examine it, and remaining neutral in the middle of this war zone!”

Overhead one of the needles pinwheeled into the wall with a ruler-on-school-desk juddering sound. Twilight yelped at the noise then at the sewing machine’s latest bid for freedom! Rarity wrapped her telekinesis around both, a helpful gesture that turned out to be as useful as trying to stop a runaway freight train with a strip of flypaper. 

Fortunately, she’d ordered some Yakyakistanian cotton and hadn’t accounted for the size difference in species. The entire boutique reverberated as they ploughed into the bridge pylon sized rolls, the air almost rippling with sudden inertia.  

“Why can’t I just set them on fire and be done with it again?” Twilight mumbled out the side of her mouth that wasn’t face down in the (admittedly quite cosy) debris. 

“Twilight, no!” Rarity cried as she surfaced, clutching the dazed sewing machine “I tried to take the easy way out with your brother’s order and look what happened! If I’d just had the courage to say no to him! And all my other customers! But mostly? That frightful Mr. Curio when he offered me this blasted thing!”

Her heart skipped slightly as the sewing machine rounded on her, almost sending its needle up her nose. Twilight pulled herself to all fours, but hesitated. Maybe it was proximity after running their magic through it but they could almost feel something approaching an emotion, swirling inside it like smoke. 

“I think it heard you…” Twilight murmured, sealing them off from the sound and danger of the battle inside a force field. 

“I think it recognised the name,” Rarity agreed, never taking her eyes off the screws that, if one squinted, almost functioned as the machine’s own. “Curio?” she repeated “Uncle Curio? Oh! Once for yes, twice for no! Do you recognise that name? Can you understand us?” 

They instinctively flinched as the machine’s needle clattered out a quick, hard clack.

“It’s alive!” cried Twilight. “Well, okay, yes, we knew that and that it brings clothes to life, hence our current predicament, but gosh, I didn’t know it was sapient! No wonder it put up such a fight! We haven’t been trying to shut off its magic, we’ve been trying to shut off its mind!” 

“Poor thing!” Rarity cooed, giving the machine’s surface a stroke. Somewhere Opal snarled deep within her tiny shrivelled soul. “I’ve been horrible to you, haven’t I? Dumping all that work on you and blaming you for it going wrong…”

One somehow emphatic clack. 

“Hmph! Well I certainly didn’t tell you to bring them alive and start this, this, this…”

“Donnybrook?” Twilight suggested. 

“Hmm, yes, that sounds about right. How very dare you suggest—!” 

“Actually,” Twilight cut in quickly, “that’s a good point. Rarity put you to work on Shining Armour’s commission. They’re supposed to be for the new Crystal Guard, right?”

One curious clack. 

“Well their captain wouldn’t want the ranks rioting like this! Unless he wasn’t joking about that hoofball team idea…Did you intend for this to happen?”

Two clacks. 

“I don’t think it…um…they? Can help it,” Rarity mused. 

One clack.

“I mean, it’s a magic sewing machine,” she continued. “Why build something this elegantly simple unless you intended to make magical clothing and bring it to life?”

Two clacks. The girls exchanged looks. 

“Not alive,” Twilight ventured, “or not magic clothing?” 

One clack.

“Ooh, magic embroidery!” Rarity declared, her entire face lighting up with delight. “I know what we’re dealing with now! You remember all those stories about moving tapestries or floating carpets? Well, they had to come from somewhere! And to think! Such a historical artefact in my shop!” 

The machine’s screws proudly spun in place to several satisfied clacks. 

“Tapestries…” Twilight murmured, then comprehension dawned so powerfully on her face Rarity and the machine were surprised it didn’t come shooting out of her horn. “Of course! That’s why they’re fighting! They’ve been enchanted by the same magic that brings motion to the motionless like a magic tapestry, which yes, thank you Rarity, I have heard of, in fact my junior thesis was on—No Twilight, focus! Whatever you say, Twilight! Uh, like a magic tapestry! Tapestries tell stories! Soldiers only really have one role in stories!” 

“That still doesn’t explain why they’re fighting though,” Rarity mused. 

Twilight rubbed the magical equivalent of fog off the force field to make a porthole and squinted at a nearby lieutenant, pointlessly trying to choke out its also-neckless adversary captain. “Alright, I’m not blaming anypony, but these uniforms have completely different emblems.” 

“Creative differences,” Rarity said primly as she blushed.  The sewing machine clacked to itself quietly in embarrassment. 

“So we know what we’re dealing with,” Twilight diplomatically surmised, “we just don’t know how to stop it. Yet. Our options are either draining the magic out, which leaves us with the problem of where to put it, or try and get them to do something else that will, um, end their story. Also not to alarm anypony but it would probably be a good idea to lower this field soon because I maaay have lost track of how much oxygen is left. I really don’t know what to do.”

“I do!” Rarity tried to strike a dignified pose of triumph, made difficult by standing atop the shifting bales and holding the sowing machine under one foreleg. “We’re dealing with military men! Uh, suits! And there’s one order every military knows how to follow!”


***


Half an hour later they were sitting on the boutique’s stoop, watching the marching uniforms’ second circuit around the park. Their sleeves rose and fell sharply in time with Pinkie Pie’s obo/accordion/drum/kazoo rendition of Radetzky March Party Remix ft. DJPON3, the Cutie Mark Crusaders bouncing alongside like a candy coloured dolphin pod. 

“Well this will make for an interesting letter to Princess Celestia,” Rarity said as one of the lieutenants at the back mimicked the little skip in Sweetie Belle’s step. 

“I could drop it off for you tomorrow,” Twilight muttered gloomily. “It may get a little scorched when both my worlds collide and self-destruct, though.”

“You know I hate to pry,” Rarity half lied, “but is everything alright? Solving problems with fire isn’t the Twilight Sparkle approach we’ve come to know and love. Is it the, as you put it, ‘tea thing?’” 

“You and your detective novels,” Twilight smiled. “It’s silly, I’ve been having these meet ups with her since I was a little filly, but I’ve…”

“You’ve never had a Peter Trotter before,” Rarity kindly surmised. 

“Yes! It’s been wonderful but has it been too fast? Or-or-or has it been too long? Did I leave too much time to tell her? Does she feel like spending so much time with him means I’m shutting her out? How could I do that to her after everything she’s done for me, Rarity?!”

“Do what? Be her student and then graduate? Have your own life?” Rarity put a gentle hoof on her friend’s shoulder. “Twilight, after what happened today, trust me when I say that it doesn’t pay to rush something, or put pressure on yourself to do too much at once. You’ve been Princess Celestia’s faithful student for almost your entire life. Dating is very new. It makes sense you’d be a little nervous.” 

“Last time I was nervous about her it led to the whole Smarty Pants disaster,” Twilight mumbled.

“Oh shush, this isn’t nearly that bad!” Rarity gave her a supportive smile, though admittedly she did have to turn Twilight’s chin so they could make eye contact. “You’re just worried because you don’t know how it'll turn out, but these two ponies in your life have to meet sometime. If you feel the need to put it off until you’re more confident the princess will understand, but wouldn’t it also be better to go through with tomorrow and have it all be over with? At least you’ll know where you all stand.” 

Twilight didn’t say anything, but she was at least smiling back.

“Besides,” Rarity teased now she felt it was appropriate, “what’s the poor boy going to do, take an unflattering photo of her?” 

“That’s one advantage,” Twilight chuckled. “She already knows he’s with the press and wants to meet him anyway! Thanks Rarity. You’re right, best hoof forward!” 

Rarity nodded, smiling and silently counting to three. 

“I just worry about him as well,” Twilight said at two. “I get so wrapped up in trying to make things perfect for her I forget how much pressure other ponies are putting on themselves to measure up. Peter doesn’t need that! He forgets my favourite filing method sometimes and gets this adorable, sad look on his face…” 

“He did seem a smidge agitated about describing Spike’s position to his aunt,” Rarity agreed, “but she’s a lovely down to earth sort and she and the princess lived through the same era. I’m sure he’s got some mannerisms she’ll find charming! Though he seems like one of those stallions who’s cute when they’re flustered.” 

“Sometimes,” Twilight grinned, trying not to giggle. “I think it’s why we meet in town so much. Getting out of the city does him some good. But one minute we’ll be talking and then he’ll compare himself to one of his friends in the business, and his ears droop a little and I’m not crying, I just still have some magic in my eye.” 

“Darling, even I know there’s worse things in life than being a simply-okay photojournalist.” Rarity fought the urge to roll her eyes at being back to square one. “Besides, that’s his job, not his passion! The two of you are so adorable when you’re talking about gibberish from some textbook, and the princess taught you everything you know! A born teacher and a born teacher’s pet, you’ll probably have to let off fireworks to get their attention again!” 

“Is that what you’re counting on for this pool Rainbow’s running?” Twilight asked dryly. She’d appreciated the sentiment, but not ‘gibberish’.

“I’m saving my bits for juicier options,” Rarity teased. “But you sound like you’re feeling better, all things considered. Perhaps because you’ve stopped over-considering them?” 

“Your creative differences did wind up helping in the long view, yes.”  

“Oh right,” Rarity frowned as the procession marched past on its fourth circuit, citizens still peering at it in terror from behind trays and stalls, “what happens to the sewing machine now? It’d feel too much like slavery to keep using it.”

“I wrote to some contacts in Canterlot,” Twilight assured. “They’ll take it to one of the university’s island research facilities. They’ll run tests but let it mingle with other enchanted items, make friends, maybe even some new tapestries for the palace walls. That kind of thing.”

“So a happy ending leads to a new beginning,” Rarity beamed. 

“Hopefully. But you’re right, I should go ahead with it,” Twilight sighed. “Good thing Canterlot is the most heavily guarded city in Equestria, it’ll be so embarrassing if he guilts himself into swinging after a pickpocket like Deerdevil or something.”

“Is that the one who bursts into flames…?” Rarity ventured. 

“No, that’s his other friend, the Horseshoe Torch? The one on all the magazine covers? One of the Fantastic Family?”

“Oh darling, I don’t pay much attention to even the best dressed of super ponies,” Rarity said as she waved her hoof dismissively. “I have a life.” 

“That’s one of the great things about this relationship,” Twilight beamed. “After all the adventures we’ve had, how could dating the Spectacular Spider-Pony phase any of you guys?”

“PETER TROTTER IS SPIDER-PONY?!”


4


“So how come I haven’t met her before now?”

“You have,” Peter said patiently. “She and her friends were part of the last two big crises.”

“Pete,” Johnny countered, “those were two whole summers ago. Do you remember even half of everything that happens to you in a month?”

“Eidetic memory, so yes!” 

“Yeah, well my days alone are more interesting than yours, and I don’t even have a luchador costume. Yet.” Johnny noticed a passing pony wondering why he was leaning against a wall talking to an apparently empty alleyway, and erased the gaffe from existence by flashing her a gentlemanly smile and a roguish wink. “Would you hurry up! Did you web yourself to the thing?”

“Name me one pony in the business who hasn’t mastered the quick change,” came Peter’s voice from somewhere up the wall, muffled by Manehattan’s constant background cacophony. “Just gotta smooth my tail back into shape.”

“Hey, if anypony respects proper tail maintenance it’s me,” Johnny called back, idly drumming a hoof on the sidewalk and sending up sparks, just because he could, “but you dress as a faceless nightmare covered in webs and the blood of your enemies. Your tail is the last thing ponies are thinkin’ about.”

Peter’s unmasked and unamused face appeared around the corner, now at street level but sideways from crawling into position to give Johnny a deadpan look. “The blood of my enemies.” 

“Is what the tabloids think the red parts are,” Johnny said, nodding. “See, this is why I say get your own marketing department, workshop your image a little, but you’re always like ‘But responsibility, though!’, and this is how the Crime King winds up with all your merchandising rights or whatever.”

“Like he wouldn’t just buy the marketing department anyway.” Peter sprang off, twisting right side up in mere seconds of mid-air so he could ricochet off a paper vendor and join his bud’s leisurely stroll. “Besides, the city’s institutionalised the lesser known and not-at-all great power of Spider-Scapegoatitude, and what the hay, it seems to make people happy. It’s Peter Trotter, lovable freelance shutterbug, who’s grooming in no way resembles that of a certain wondrous web-spinner, that's in need of a makeover!”

“So you want people to like you in and out of costume, but you talk about it using the third person like a supervillain.”

“I did it with my real name too!”  

“Healthy. And the fact you wanna introduce yourself to the original fairy godmother but rocking a style that is blatantly not yours?” 

“I referred to myself as a lovable freelance shutterbug. Clearly in need of all the help I can get.” 

“Your funeral, man.”

“…do they make that kind of suit? Morbid and actual curiosity.” 

“Their motto is Look like death: sleek yet serine.”  

“It’s not but should be?”

“See, you can be taught! Next item on the agenda; that thing on your face.” 

“Weren’t you just busting on me, in your signature twisted style of affection, to be myself?”

“Go shallow or go home, Pete.”

“Twilight happens to think it makes me look distinguished.”

“Twilight Happens would be a great name for a band.”

“We turn 25 next year, Johnny. It’s time to let the dream go.” 

This entire exchange took the time to enter the minimalist lobby and the somehow even more so elevator. Peter looked at himself in the mirror-like walls, wondering if making his reflection look Dalíesque and bored was intentional, magical, or janitorial. 


***


Johnny let out a satisfied sigh as the doors slid open onto the temple like floor space. “Ah, chicness! Isn’t it just the best thing you ever smelt?”

“Nooo…?” Peter hated himself a little for actually sniffing. “This place doesn’t smell like…anything.”

“Exactly.” 

Customers roamed from displays to stalls to seats, mingled with staff wearing simple vest saddles that reminded the heroes of various futuristic dimensions they’d blundered into at one time or another, more the Torch’s beat than Spidey’s. Both often wondered why the multiverse’s idea of the future looked like it came from the set of a 60’s sci-fi show. Only Peter did it out loud. Johnny was too cool for that. 

Despite that trademark Manehattan bustle, the scale and aesthetics of the place seemed to blanket everything in a respectful libraryesque hush, so the boys drew all eyes when a Unicorn shot up from behind the front desk and made them yelp. 

“Greetings, shoppers! So sorry, dropped my pen and it rolled under this tight bit in the corner, but we would like to assure you that such shenanigans are in no way indicative of Sleek yet Serine's commitment to—oh tribulations and taffeta, it’s you.” 

“Hi, Sassy,” Johnny grinned. “Miss me?” 

“Only because you were running away.” Sassy Saddle’s posture somehow drooped, as she dropped her professional persona, and simultaneously straightened, as she focused her ice-cold annoyance on the Torch. “What do you want, Johnnycake? Some of us have to work in between making sure we don’t have hair as silly as yours.” 

“Still taking six months ago this hard doesn’t become you, Sassy,” Johnny teased, leaning casually on the desk and then knitting that perfect brow. “Though speaking of work, quipping aside, I’ve seen yours. This place is ridiculously slow by comparison, what’re you doing here?”

“Slumming it,” Sassy sighed. “Things are slower in Canterlot and I was the only game in town in Trottingham. Poor place needed some fresh blood. And it was four months, you beast!”

“Huh. You sure? See, now I’m wondering if I might’ve done it unconsciously for the sake of the brand. Whoa, whoa, kidding, I was kidding!”

“Hi,” Peter cut in, moving between Johnny and a stapler snatched up by Sassy’s telekinesis, “Peter Trotter, lovable freelance shutterbug. The implication here is you work fast? You’re only dealing with the scent and sound of too much hair gel because he’s doing me a favour. I need a suit for literally tomorrow, so if you could find it in your heart to help me out here the sooner you’re rid of the not-so-perfect-Storm.”

“You had me at ‘too much hair gel’, darling.” Sassy beckoned as she led them to a curtained corner. Both their spines shivered as the stapler dropped onto the desk with a sound like a redwood crushing a bowling ball full of fine china. 

“Good reflexes!” she noted as Peter sprang leisurely onto an offered stool. 

“Um...”

“Taught him everything he knows!” Johnny covered, turning up the smarm as he flopped down on a couch and flipped through a copy of Under the Sun. At least Peter assumed he was covering. Sassy was soon lost in a world of levitating tape measure and fabric swatches at any rate. 

“So where would I know you from?” she asked eventually on the third measuring of Peter’s spine. “Photography,” she clarified at his confused expression. 

“Uh...”

“Lovable freelance shutterbug,” Johnny said idly, too wrapped up in a spread on Fancy Pants’ new line of luxury airships to add in the snark. 

“Oh! Ah, you wouldn’t have seen any of my stuff. Not in fashion, anyway. I’m in newspapers, mostly.”

“Oh?” Sassy’s eyes glistened with interest and potential reviews.

“Usually The Derby Bugle!” Peter beamed proudly. 

“Oh.” Sassy’s tape measure drooped ever so slightly as she finished measuring his tail. “Still, you must meet some interesting ponies! Famous, even?”

“Ahem!” Johnny fumed. 

“If by meet you mean photographed at a distance, sure.” Pete stood on his hind legs, forelegs outstretched as Sassy’s magic wove fabric around them. “I’m usually on the crime beat, but every now and then there’s a big name. Sometimes they even cross over, mostly Tony Spark. Whose name is not supposed to be brought up, because every time he moves down here from the coast he supplants Johnny as Manehattan’s most eligible bachelor.” 

“Hmph,” Johnny scoffed over the whomph of an igniting flame goatee. “Ooh, lookit me, I’m the third richest pony in the world, my tower’s pointier, park my chopper on the beach!” 

“Put that out!” Sassy hissed. “Anyway, there we go! You’ll be the belle of whatever ball you feel like gate crashing for, oh, about three months. How’s it feel?”

“Great!” Peter selected a matching tie from the row she floated in front of him. “Could use some of my, ah, nice reflexes to make it less stiff but there’s still nothing like a new suit. Johnny, are you messing with the temperature?”

“Who, me?” Johnny batted his eyelids adorably. “But for real, no, Sassy yelled at me.”

“Hmm. A…friend enchanted a scarf for me once? It could spread heat through fibres, do you guys offer that? Or rather the reverse?”

“A cooling enchantment,” Sassy mused. “We doooo, buuut they take time for something with as many fibres as this bad boy. We’d have to send it away for about a hoof-full of working days for something that ambitious, and you did say you needed it for tomorrow…”

“Then it’s as good as it’s gonna get,” Peter smiled understandingly, finishing the tie. “Hay, probably knock the price down too, right?”

“I’d like to thank the academy for the opportunity to say one of my favourite things in the world!” Johnny cast Under the Sun aside and hem-hemed with relish. “Ms. Saddles, put it on my tab!”

“No," Sassy said flatly. “Store policy. One tab per customer and the suit is for Peter, not you. Either pony up, close yours, or surprise me by doing the gentlepony thing and doing both.”

“Surprise you like when we went to Prance just to get away from it all?” Johnny grinned. “Or the top of the Mephistopheles mountains? Personally, I was surprised when we got that legit Guoxianese food from Guoxia and you almost choked on—Hey!”

“Oops, my tie!” Peter declared dramatically, hurriedly unravelling it as he used his forehead to push Johnny flank first into a corner. “Johnny be a pal and help a pony out, huh?”

“What’s up?” Johnny whispered, pushing back to stop Peter making him physically one with the chosen corner. “Spider-Sense?”

“I looked at the price tags on Sassy’s fabrics, right, and I’ve done the math in my head and--”

“What, you can do higher math in your head but you can’t tie a tie?” 

“Johnny, I don’t know what to do! If I had as many gems as stars in the sky I couldn’t afford this thing.”

“Who said you had to?” Johnny turned away as he finished knotting. “Hey Sassy, you adorable ice cream cake you, my tab; that’d be with Pete’s purchase included, yeah?”

“Yes…” Sassy said wearily. 

“Then prepare to be surprised!” The Horseshoe Torch beamed. 

He didn’t see the brief hollowness in Peter’s eyes.


5


The sun set. 

The sun rose. 

Stuff was about to happen.


6


The ever lovin’ blue eyed Thing yawned as he stomped out of the silo elevator. Nothing like a second breakfast after your morning workout. After that, a diagnostic on the family ship for this week’s mission, a light snack and, assuming some yahoo didn’t try to conquer the world, a quick nap before lunch with Armilla. 

He frowned, sniffing at a familiar burning smell coming from the living room. “Matchstick? What’re you doin’ up? Before noon, no less!”

He squinted, temporarily half blinded by Manehattan morning as his voice inadvertently triggered a spell to raise the blinds. The limp form floating a few inches above the carpet remained silent, it’s flames briefly seeming to grow brighter as fresh sunlight filled the room. Didn’t even turn around for their usual morning insult contest. Kids! 

“You have too much sugar or somethin’?” Grim asked, still squinting as he trotted around to the Torch’s face. Same adventurous smile Johnny used for all their merchandise at least, but it looked…well, like merchandise. Like the replicas of that smile modelled onto action figures, baseball caps, novelty mugs, and other such curios down in the giftshop. Plastic and static, though also actually on fire.

H.E.R.B.I.E. floated into the room, anticipating the mess Grim would’ve made of the kitchen by now, and chirruped curiously at the sight of one of the family peering at the other. He began to circle the Thing as the Thing circled the Torch, a strange domestic solar system. 

“You’re hoverin’ around and he ain’t even made a face,” Grim muttered. “Somethin’s up, shrimp.”

H.E.R.B.I.E. beep booped in agreement. Driven by some primal curiosity, the Thing reached out a tentative hoof and gave his partner in in-fighting a nudge on the shoulder. 

His resultant scream of horror shook the top four floors of the Baxter Barn and sent cats, dogs and pigeons scattering for the entire block. 


***


“Grim?!” 

Sand Sousaphone Storm burst out of her office, her image blurring as the Phantasmal Pony summoned one force field to meet the latest unnamed horror to invade her living room, and another under her hooves, surfing into battle! 

Even after all these years of teaching herself to shape the building blocks of light itself to her will, though, the Earth Pony was still trying to use a free hoof to pull on her team collar and pull off the business suit she’d started with. “Grim Skies, what is it?! Just tell me it’s not the Pop-Up Pony again, I am in no mood--”

She yelped as her field-platform bounced off the Thing’s back, the impact sending her shirt over her eyes, then let out a louder one when she pulled it off to come face to face with H.E.R.B.I.E. Following his programming, the little automaton blared a klaxon and hid behind the couch. 

Sue took the advice of her therapist (technically her lawyer but same difference) and began to count to ten. It was difficult, what with the Thing’s sobs shaking the floor and making her lose count. “Grim, what in Equestria’s the matter?! Did the Knicks lose? Is it one of those stupid Yancy Street pranks? You’re not having another ‘Am I a Mustang or a Monster?’ episode are you, our insurance won’t cover those anymore.”

He turned around, those famous blue eyes brimming with tears under that craggy brow and melting her heart. “Aw Suzie, I’m-I’m-I’m so sorry! I did it! I finally went and did it! Aww cripes! I broke yer brother!”

“Get in line,” Sousa muttered. “He didn’t check in last night and this morning in the mail… Gugh, when I find that colt I’m going to give him a piece of my mind! The part that lets me make invisible hammers.” 

H.E.R.B.I.E. risked peeking out from behind his comfy barricade and chirruped hopefully. With a sigh, Sue raised her forelegs, not even budging as the grateful Helpful-Experimental-whatever-he-was-supposed-to-be zipped across the room and into her reluctant embrace. She squinted as H.E.R.B.I.E. deployed his vacuum cleaner attachment, beeping at her curiously. 

She looked down and a pile of ceramic looking chips, one of them sporting her brother’s smirking lips, looked back at her. “Oh wonderful, foreign substances. Part of a balanced breakfast. River! Reed?” 

“Y’ph, dr’gh?” The head and elongated neck of Dr. River Reeds, one of Manehattan’s most pioneering intellects, appeared in the doorway with the sound of a hoof sliding over a balloon. He still had a toothbrush in his mouth and his body, when it cantered in after him, was wearing a bathrobe with the edge of what Sue just knew would be the Why Yes, I Am a Rocket Sorcerer t-shirt Johnny had gotten him for Hearth's Warming. Not dramatic but certainly an entrance. 

“Yes, dear?” Reed clarified, using his telekinesis to remove the toothbrush. “Sorry, I was in the middle of decontaminating a case of lab breath when Grim shook the building and I got tangled in the…facilities. Oooh, foreign substances!” 

Sue had to cough twice, the first having been drowned out by the sound of her husband’s neck stretching for an enthusiastic close-up of whatever was littering the carpet, nudging her head in the direction of his bawling best friend. 

“Ah!” Mr. Fantastic acknowledged, straightening up to take charge with all the prestige a pony could in his bathrobe. The movement unravelled his belt, spoiling the effect by exposing the Rocket Sorcerer t-shirt. “There, there old friend, let’s calm down, shall we?”

“Aww Stretch, I really put my hoof in it this time!”

“What, this?” Reed levitated a hoof-full of fragments for a curious glance. “Hmm, normally not advisable even with your protective hide, but unless I miss my guess…” 

And to their mind-numbing disgust, the smartest pony they knew licked one of them.

“Cripes, Stretcho, show some respect! That’s Johnny you’re tastin’!” 

“What,” Sue said with the monotone of the truly nonplussed, a statement, not a question.

“Aww Susie, I’m so sorry! All these years and I still dunno my own ever lovin’ strength!” That rocky lower lip began to tremble. “He was just hoverin’ there when I came in! I gave ‘im a lil’ nudge and he…he plain crumbled to dust right in front of me, an-an-an’ I’m no good bum is what I am!” 

He dissolved into fresh wails. The air shimmered like a heat haze as Sue shot out force field tendrils, trying to keep trophies and furniture steady as Grim shook the room again. What wasn’t still potentially explosive she’d only recently gotten just the way she liked it!

“Hmm,” Reed ruminated, “yes, as I suspected. Oh Grim Skies, you’re still crying! Buck up, old fellow! Please!” He elongated his torso, wrapping around the wailing Thing in a half hold, half hug. “I assure everypony there’s a perfectly logical explanation, but I can’t deliver it if the building comes down. And you’re scaring poor H.E.R.B.I.E.!”

“Yes,” Sue deadpanned as the droid tried to untangle the vacuum cable from her hair, “poor H.E.R.B.I.E.” 

“My little pal!” The Thing blubbered. “We’ll never see his smug face ever again! When I think of all the crud he pulled, and what a crumb I’ve been to him for it! I did some things in the big one I ain’t proud of, but who’d-a-thought peace would come at an even greater price!”

“Would you mind…?” Sousa gestured to the pile of brick red dust getting further and further into her Nouveau Urban. H.E.R.B.I.E. began to happily vacuum up the apparent remains of her brother. “Grim, wonderful a sentiment as that is, come on, it’s Johnny. No way we’re that lucky. Reed, you were saying?” 

“Thank you, dear,” Reed smiled as he unwound from his still quaking best friend. “Now, ah, I’m afraid this might partially be my fault. Sousaphone asked me to have a word with Johnnycake about missing power practice--”

“I already don’t like where this is going,” The Thing sniffled. 

“Yes, that’s the, ah, thing. To get him to pay attention, I began to speculate about his powers and, well, you remember that one trick he figured out in high school? Use some of his flames to create a decoy Torch? Well, when he flames on his body produces a thermal sheath, which I suspect either protects it from or in some way generates his fire.” 

Sue put a hoof to each temple to ease the sheer inevitability. 

“On closer examination, over the years it’s evolved into a similar epidermis to yours, old friend, so if it functions along with his fire then hypothetically he could break bits of it off, enough to, say, mould a more convincing form of decoy and Grim, Grim, Thing wait, come back!” 

“WHERE IS THAT NO GOOD, LOW DOWN—?!” the Thing bellowed, stamping out into the hall in search-and-destroy mode. He whipped around as the floor filled with the revolving wail of H.E.R.B.I.E.’s personnel-down-in-need-of-assistance siren. (Reed had a gift for names but had struggled with that one, and the others’ suggestions after hearing it had been too rude.) 

He was floating back and forth excitedly in front of a closet door, quest for a fresh vacuum bag forgotten after the discovery of the Horseshoe Torch, sprawled semiconsciously on top of a pile of paper towel rolls, even using one as a pillow, covered in confetti string and tenderly hugging a traffic cone. 

Johnny stirred, squinting up at them all through his obligatory pink rimmed, star shaped sunglasses. “What’s up gang? Have we split up to search for clues yet, or am I just seeing double?”

“Cripes kid, ya look half like death.” The Thing’s face looked even more like an avalanche than normal as he reached down. “Let me HELP YA WITH THAT!”

“Oh cool, it worked!” Johnny beamed, then yelped as he was hoisted up by his somehow still immaculate tail. He thrashed, suspended upside down almost a foot off the ground in the Thing’s one hoofed grip. “Let go, you over grown gargoyle!” 

“What, and miss my chance to finally feed ya that toxic waste dump you call a haircut, ya product usin’ putz!” 

“Bring it, fugly!” 

They both blinked as Grim’s hoof popped open, as if a basketball had inflated itself inside his grip, and Johnny found his svelte 170 lbs floating inside the physics of a soap bubble with the density of marble. Despite flaming on from instinct, he felt that familiar chill in his blood as he turned to meet Sue’s gaze. “Would you gentlecolts excuse us? I need to talk to my brother.” 

“Grim Skies old buddy,” Johnny pleaded, forehooves clasped and going down on still floating knees, “clobber me, please, hard as you can right between the eyes! Even you can’t let me suffer like this!”

“Um,” said Mr. Fantastic, genius, as Sue’s gaze snapped on him like twin sniper scopes. “Come on H.E.R.B.I.E., let’s…get you…”

“Some of that fancy fruit smellin’ cleaning stuff Susie likes so much!” the Thing rallied. H.E.R.B.I.E. gave a tinny squeal of glee and shot off down the hall, the brains and brawn of super heroism’s first family stoically following in his wake, so as not to look like they were running away. 

“Cowards,” muttered the Torch as his sister levitated him over to the couch. He extinguished himself and sighed, terror submersed (for now) by irritation. “Okay, there’s a 50/50 chance I did whatever it is, so fine, let’s play the odds.”

“Let’s not.” Sue’s hard expression didn’t change as she produced a sheet of paper. “This bill was in the mail this morning. What in Equestria did you do yesterday?”

Johnny shrugged. “Went shopping.”

“For what, a weekend in Las Pegasus?! You’re only supposed to see this kind of number when you’ve come out of traction! And this bit here, this is only half of what they’re charging you?!” 

“That’s why I figured it wouldn’t be a big deal!” Johnny insisted “Look, it’s a tab. Weekly payments. So I closed it because we can handle it!” 

“That’s not the point!” Sousa managed, struggling not to shout “How did you run up a tab this big? You’re supposed to keep us up to date on your spending!” 

“Oh sure, even though it’s my money! Excuse me if I get a little caught up in this thing we do, y’know, saving the world?!” 

“No, I won’t excuse you! That is absolutely not an excuse!” 

“I’m not making excuses!” They were standing face to face now. Johnny hated this. Sue’s mom-itude, the way he’d regress back to high school as if to compliment it. He took the advice of his lawyer and took a deep breath. “Okay, look. If it’s this big a deal, isn’t it better I shut it down now?” 

“You still put it on the company card,” Sue said in words of stone. Their impact sent Johnny’s universe rippling from the sheer size of his screw up. 

“Oh.” He backed off, ears lowering. “Oh man, sis, sorry! I just put down the first piece of plastic I found in my wallet, I legit thought it was mine. I’ll fly by right now and change the details, promise.”

“That’s not better!” Sue put a hoof on his shoulder. “Johnny, no matter who’s paying for it, this bill…it’ll wipe out your savings this first week alone, and those come from what we pay you!” 

“Right, but the Horseshoe Torch royalties--”

“Depends on how well your specific merchandise is doing. It’s not a reliable source of income! And all those gems and bits come from the same place. We make a lot of money, and I try to keep it all flowing fairly, but it’s a new financial quarter. We’ve got gosh knows how many contracts up for renewal, and we could lose who knows how many of them. I don’t need to be blindsided by stuff like this!” 

“Contracts like Damage Control?” Johnny asked, trying not to throw himself too hard on this potential life raft in case he capsized it. “Because that’s already taken care of!” 

Sue blinked. “How?” 

“Did I wind up in the closet? Well, after this little dust up with the Wrecking Crew I took old Web-Head shopping then decided to double back, y’know, help melt down some rubble, weld some support beams back into place, that kinda thing.”

Sue sighed, but smiled and shook her head at the same time. Johnny pressed on, taking what he could get. 

“So when their crews showed up, I got to talking with this overseer, Jasmine Shine, and one thing led to another down at the Cottonmouth Club. For the price of going halfsies on a bill in a place with free refills I cemented their decision to retain us, well, Reed really, as a consultant! Once Jasmine woke up of course.” He loftily flopped down on the couch, hooves triumphantly behind his head. “It’s kinda fuzzy after that, but either I set up the decoy for Grim and he never showed up…or I just forgot where my room was. Dunno where the traffic cone came from.”

Sue didn’t look mad but definitely wasn’t thrilled either. “That’s not a great way to do business, and it’s not just the tab…” She blinked. “What does Peter need a new suit for?”

“He’s having tea with Princess Celestia!” 

“No. Really. What does Peter need a new suit for?”

“It would actually be less awkward if you went back to being mad at me right now.”

“I’m not mad, I’m worried about you.” Sue flopped down next to him on the couch with a sigh like an ancient civilisation finally collapsing. “It’s not the money, Johnny, it’s…everything. First I didn’t say anything, then I tried to find the right way to say it, but this has been going on ever since you left school. You run up huge tabs, you’re out all night, you skip power practice--”

“Y’know, the name’s not suddenly going to sound cooler if you just say it more.” 

“I know, but it is important! What we do is dangerous! There are things out there it takes all four of us to handle! I didn’t know where you were last night, what if something had happened to you?!”

Without hesitation Johnny put his forelegs around his sister in a hug. Sousa slumped against him slightly, feeling exhausted. 

“And what you did to Grim was kind of mean,” she muttered into his shoulder. 

“Think of it as power practice.” 

Sue smiled despite herself, taking one of his hooves in hers. “Just do me a favour and hold off on any big spending, okay? I can make this weekly thing work, but no more tabs!”

“Scouts honour, sis.” 

“And at least carry your signal flare for my peace of mind, please?”

“I’ll go pick up a fresh one from the doc right now. We cool?”

“Working on it.” The Phantasmal Pony smiled, nuzzling her little brother, and trotted off in search of her business suit. Johnny waited until she was out of sight (as in down the hall, not her invisible shtick) before flaming on and floating into the lab.


7


Twilight Sparkle stared up at the writhing, wild-eyed cat creature wearing…a vest with a lion face on it? (Oh gosh, that wasn’t an actual lion’s face was it!?) …suspended upside down in a web strung between the spires of Canterlot central station.

“Impudent welp! No prey escapes the world’s greatest hunter!” 

“Really? Should I wait here while you go get them?” Spider-Pony, still upside down, finished weaving a final strand, folding his forelegs and swinging back a little on the web-line from his tail to admire his handiwork. “Like, I have plans, but leaving is kind of escaping if you think about it. Far be it from me to contradict the reputation of the world’s greatest hunter!” 

Not his best work, but Twilight couldn’t help a snicker. Trying to suppress it so as not to attract attention actually drew a few looks from nearby ponies, worried she was either choking or perhaps having some kind of psychotic fit. There was nothing funny to her about the arrival of a fully armed E.U.P. squad. 

“The guys in gold!” Spidey announced, flipping right side up to perch on a ledge, and Twilight couldn’t help wondering if this was a super pony thing or just Peter feeling the need to mug to the crowd. “Now it may seem a little ostentatious, but I simply couldn’t drop by unannounced like this and not bring you a token of my esteem! Careful though, he’s a biter!” 

“Hilarious,” deadpanned the Pegasus captain, readying her pump action crossbow with a gratuitous click-snap. “Off the architecture, hooves behind your head. You’ve still got some questions to answer from the last time you rampaged through town!”

“Admittedly mistakes were made but ‘rampaged’ is such a harsh word, don’tcha think?” Spidey spread a foreleg to trace an imaginary headline. “How about ‘Prevented mad scientist from turning Mt. Canterlot into a volcano to power their death ray’?”

The guards responded by brandishing more weaponry. Twilight Sparkle responded by simply teleporting herself and her loquacious leman out of the area. The captain blinked, remaining in the air because she was so surprised by the vigilante’s instantaneous disappearance her brain hadn’t even register it enough to throw off her wing beats.  

“Lieutenant, did you see that?!”

“Er, yes Captain! Is that one of his powers? Can he do that? I didn’t know he could do that!”

“Spiders can’t just disintegrate, Lieutenant. Don’t be silly.”

“They don’t dress in red and blue and walks as ponies either, Captain! You don’t know everything!”

“Um,” came a hesitant Stalliongrad accent from on high, “if I give you my word as Equestria’s greatest hunter not to bite anypony, could you maybe get me down?”


***


Spider-Pony blinked as he materialised on top of a gazebo in a quiet section of a city park. “Oh. Hi, honey!” 

“Hello, dear,” Twilight beamed. “How was your trip?” 

“Honestly fine for the first couple of hundred miles,” Spidey admitted as he casually slipped off the tiled roof, removing his mask as he landed, “but then Kraken the Hunter got on at Whineyapolis. Think he recognised my scent or something. And riding inside a train for once was such a novelty too.”

“Aww, poor baby!” Twilight gave him a peck on the cheek. “Spike was so worried.” 

“Only Spike huh?”

“I think he’s still hoping you’ll make him your sidekick someday,” Twilight teased. “But he was pretty overwrought when he showed up, poor thing. I had to ask him to repeat himself a few times, he was going so fast, but he said you tricked that brute into following you onto another train?” 

“Well, even Kraken doesn’t deserve the kind of fate you’d visit upon anypony or anything that mussed Spike’s fins.” 

“I would’ve turned his bones to glass, yes,” Twilight admitted with a shrug. “But he was carrying your saddlebag, and there’s another bag in there or something?” 

“His secret weapon!” Spike announced, startling them both as he sprouted out of some bushes. “Sorry guys, had to duck the fuzz, but yeah, Spider-Peter entrusted me with his secret weapon!” 

He held a garment bag aloft like it was one of the Elements of Harmony. 

“The fuzz,” Twilight said flatly. 

“I may have lent him some of Uncle Glen’s old paperbacks.”

Twilight squinted at the logo on the bag as Peter gingerly took it from between Spike’s talons. “Sleek yet Sereine? Gosh, they’re expensive enough already, I hadn’t heard they were branching out into munitions! That can’t be legal!” 

“Only if you think being dressed to kill is a crime!” Peter grinned. It faltered a little at Twilight and Spike’s uncomprehending expressions. “Well, it’s Princess Celestia and all so I brought a…y’know, it’ll be better once you see it, just, ah, just gotta switch places with you Spike, so if we could…”

Twilight sat on her haunches and watched the awkward dance of both men in her life trying to simultaneously enter and exit the bushes in a park she’d walked through and played in since childhood. This. This is my life now. 

“Y’know,” Spike mused, brushing stray leaves off his scales as he finally extracted himself, “maybe that’s not the best place to change, dude. There’s a music festival being set up a few miles away. Probably a few porta potties…”

“Spiiiike, don’t be gross!” Twilight squealed. “Change? Oh, you brought some special costume? That’s…I won’t lie, it’s sudden, but that’s wonderful, Peter! I wasn’t sure if you wanted to tell her this early, but it’ll make everything so simple--”

“Sorry Twilight, there’s some sort of nest in my ear.” Peter thumped the side of his head a few times and emerged, throwing on the jacket of his new suit and trying not to stagger under the sudden stuffy weight. He spread his forelegs demonstrably. “Anyway. Ta-da!” 

“Oh, wow.” She blinked. “You…got all dressed up.”

“I went through all that just to carry your laundry?!” Spike fumed.  

“Nooo, you went through all that to carry my new Reins Bond cosplay.” Peter mimed that famous tomato throwing pose from all the posters. He was starting to acclimate to the suit but there was still a certain amount of stiffness. “Whaddaya think? Very Grand Galloping Gala, right? ...Twilight? You okay, honey? You’re kind of thousand-yard staring.”

“Just…trying to remember it all ended with doughnuts.” Twilight shook her head to rid herself of visions of that night in some alternate universe where today also had to happen. “Reins Bond? So this is some kind of undercover thing! Is danger afoot?! Do we need to warn the princess?! Assemble the Befrienders?!” 

“No, no, no and wha—? I’m not even wearing the costume under the new number. It was just a nod to how stylin’ I am right now!”

“Nopony says stylin’ anymore,” Spike grumped. “And why do you need to be stylin’ without a g? It’s Canterlot, only the toffs wear suits when they don’t have to.”

“The Torch says styling without a g,” Peter said, surprised at how meek he felt.

“Spike,” Twilight said gently. “It’s Peter’s secret to keep. If he doesn’t want the princess to know then--”

Spike blinked at both of them. “How do we know she doesn’t already?”  

“Okay, how did we get on this subject, and would it be okay if we dropped it?” Peter asked, tugging at his collar. He’d expected the mountain air up here to take some of the edge off but the suit was starting to feel uncomfortably warm. Yeah. The suit. That was it.

“Well, don’t you wanna be honest with her?”

“Yeah, which is why she’ll be meeting…me. Not the wall-crawler.” Peter tried a smile “No need for a dramatic revelation if there doesn’t have to be. I’m only a super hero half the time, Spike.”

The dragon blinked. “So, what, you’re only honest half the time?”

Peter blinked. Spike sighed. 

“Uh…y’know what Twilight, I changed my mind. Think I’ll hit the movies and swing by to say hi to the princess when it’s all over.” 

“If that’s what you think is best.” Twilight passed him a pouch of bits from her saddlebag. Spike waddled off, looking over his shoulder with a pensive smile. 

“Good luck, guys. You might need it.”


***


“What was that supposed to mean?” Peter asked as they began to mingle with the crowds of tourists, merchants and citizens trotting in and out of the park. The fact that the few of them that were wearing a suit carried briefcases (or had somepony else in a suit to carry it for them) made him feel self-conscious. “Am I supposed to feel like I did something wrong?”

“No,” Twilight assured, still looking over her shoulder to keep a maternal eye on Spike until he was totally out of view. “Spike acts like one of the gang but he’s still very young. And he’s seen the kind of damage keeping a secret can do.”

“Twilight, my identity--”

“I understand,” Twilight cut in, glancing around to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard. “You’ve carried that secret since you were fifteen years old. But Spike’s identity…he’s also seen the damage some dragons can do if they put their minds to it. Being a pony, raised here in the capital of Equestria? That’s important to him. The princess is as important to him as she is to me. It makes sense he’d be a little…touchy about keeping something from her.” 

“And it’s important to me that this goes well. Spider-Pony’s given me a lot, but it’s taken a lot away. I don’t want it to sink this.” Peter gave her a nuzzle. “You’re both important to me as well.”

“That’s good to hear.”  

“Well, yeah. Can’t do without my faithful sidekick.” 

Twilight giggled, grateful for the change in direction. Peter grinned and decided to press his luck. “So okay, Spike’s not a fan, but what’s your opinion of the swanky new duds?” 

“Not as…flexible as your costume.” Peter’s heart skipped a little as Twilight batted her eyelashes the way she’d practised in the mirror for months. “But it shows off your calves quite nicely. And you know I like a stallion who can tie a mean Grantchester Knot…” 

“You should see me unravel it,” Peter breezed in his best Bond brogue. 

“Peeeeter, behave, there’s people!” Twilight hissed through grinning teeth as she blushed. “But yeah, I don’t know how necessary it was, but I approve. What about you?” 

“After spandex, nothing can ever be too itchy,” Peter admitted, “but the fabric’s a bit heavier than what I’m used to. Which is ironic, since the entire reason I didn’t just go with my old one is it’s been dry cleaned stiffer than the Thing’s ear hair.” 

“Does it breathe okay?” Twilight asked as they climbed into the waiting chariot. “It’s just you’re wearing a black jacket and tie. And carrying your saddlebag. And we’re going to be sitting out in the open, in the land the sun is raised directly over every day.” 

“Hey, long as I can bow in it, right?”  

“As long as you’re happy, dear,” Twilight beamed, returning the drivers’ bows and leaning against Peter’s shoulder as they began to pull their ride. “Now however will we endure this romantic carriage ride through one of the most beautiful cities in Equestria?” 

“Could be our most harrowing team up yet,” Peter teased.

‘Endure’ turned out to be the strangely appropriate word, though. The air of the mountain road leading up to the castle was actually quite pleasant after years in Manehattan’s thickness, but the prospect of what Peter was riding towards began to set in. The castle didn’t look like any of the thousands of evil lairs he’d infiltrated before with Spider-Sense on full alert, but none of them had housed his wizard girlfriend’s wizard mom. 

In addition, the weight of his bag, the rocking of the chariot, and even the warmth of Twilight’s body against his combined to make his new suit feel like it was heating up whenever the chariot was directly in the sunlight. Once outside the castle courtyard he checked to make sure Twilight was preoccupied with thanking and tipping the drivers, then checked his brow with a hoof. Not damp, but he could probably do to loosen his tie soon. 

“Everything alright?” Twilight asked. Peter quickly turned the gesture into shielding his eyes as he took in the beautiful castle…parking lot. 

“Fine, fine!” he covered. “So it’s been ages since The Bugle last sent me here. Do we wait for a guard or a butler or something to show us in?”

“Or something,” said a gracious voice from on high. 

Both ponies turned to see the icon of Equestria itself circling overhead as she came in for a landing. Princess Celestia smiled down at the two of them, the perfect Canterlot spring afternoon seeming to become that much brighter for her presence. 

“Princess Celestia!” Twilight cried with childlike glee, drowning out Peter’s terrified wheeze of “…hi,” as she galloped over to her mentor for one of those famous neck hugs. 

Even though he was now standing at ground zero, and starting to feel the combo of the new suit and his saddlebag had been a mistake, making him look less like a suitor come-a-courtin’ and more like an overgrown school foal, he couldn’t help but smile at how natural the moment between them was. 

“Twilight Sparkle! Thank you for accepting an old mare’s invitation.” 

Twilight hopped back to Peter’s side and cleared her throat before bowing respectfully. “That is…hello, Princess. It’s wonderful to see you again. Spike will be by later but this is…this is my coltfriend, Peter Trotter.”

She only squeaked ‘coltfriend’ a little. Peter followed her bow, hoping it didn’t look forced. With his luck, he’d been expecting the suit jacket to fall over his head, or the sleeves to rip from prostrating his legs, but it was his faithful saddlebag that betrayed him. The bow sent it sliding down his back, over his head and to the ground, rattling with the sound of his camera, change, and keys. He instinctively straightened up, only tangling his forelegs in the strap and making it more difficult for an aid who’d materialised from nowhere to pick it up.

“Sorry, thanks!” he blurted, not sure who he was apologising to. His focus swung to Celestia with the inevitability of gravity, the scale of the amused but kind eyes baring down on him wiping out every hastily prepared statement. 

Twilight had already made the introductions, hadn’t she? What exactly was he supposed to say to the mare who’d seen civilisation rise and fall thousands of times before his aunt and uncle had been born? It would’ve been easier if she’d been one of the pompous cosmic entities or power mad sorcerers who sometimes fetched up in Manehattan. He could have cracked wise at her. He’d always known what to say to Kulan Gath!

“The Horseshoe Torch said to say hi,” his mouth said on autopilot. 

“Oh, you know Johnnycake? How nice of him.” Celestia trotted closer, making his hind legs quiver with repressing the urge to back away. “But I’m far more interested in getting to know you. Cadence’s description of Twilight’s descriptions was quite...”

She tilted her head as if appraising him, never stopped smiling but something did make her frown slightly. “Pardon me dear, you’ve got a little schmutz.” 

And then the Princess of the Sun licked one of her wingtips and rubbed it against his cheek. Peter got the impression that, in just his coat, being this close to the alicorn’s constantly radiating magical field would’ve felt as satisfying as a sunbeam to a cat. In his suit, everything just got hotter. 

Also the embodiment of ponyhood herself was spit polishing him. Twilight's face when.

“Hmm,” Celestia muttered. “It’s more stubborn than Luna, I swear…”

“What?” Peter put a hoof to the black dot under his right eye, tiny sparkles still twinkling around it. “Oh! My mole! Uh, no your highness, I…I’ve had that all my life…”

“Ah,” the one thousand and change year old sorceress and diplomat managed. Awkward silence reigned. The sound of the approaching aid’s hooves echoed off the castle’s stone path, bouncing around the three of them like the embarrassing aftersounds of dropping a family heirloom down a flight of stairs. 

“Ladies? Sir?” she asked from a garden door. “Is everypony ready?” 


To be continued