You've been sitting cross-legged on the floor for the past few minutes with Pinkie on your back and Rarity on your chest. It's fairly obvious by now that neither pony is planning on letting go anytime soon.
"Rarity," you groan. "Please let me go."
"Don't give in, Rarity!" Pinkie whisper-yells. "Wear down his resistance!"
"Pinkie, no," you plead.
"Pinkie, yes!" she shoots back. You have no defense against such an argument.
Rarity finally interjects, still not budging. "Why do I have to let go and not Pinkie Pie?" she huffs, flipping her mane. "You're making it sound like you don't like me."
You don't take the bait. "Well, Pinkie's coming with me to get food, so unless you want me to haul you across town, you need to let me go."
That was the worst possible choice of words. Pinkie gasps and starts nodding vigorously over your shoulder.
"Oh, what a wonderful idea!" Rarity exclaims. "I skipped breakfast this morning, so brunch would be perfect right now."
"Yay, brunch party!" Pinkie yells directly in your ear. Ow.
Once the ringing stops, you say, "Why are you saying brunch instead of lunch? It's only-" You glance around the room until you spot a clock. "...Ten o'clock. What? Why is it still so fucking early?"
Rarity smacks your shoulder. "Language," she scolds, not even bothering to answer your perfectly reasonable question.
"See, Nonny? Waking up at sunrise gives you so much more time to do stuff!" Pinkie is still trying to convince you that early equals good, but you know better. The sun is nothing more than an evil temptress trying to coax you away from the comfort and safety of your bed.
"I don't wanna do stuff," you mumble. You know you shouldn't fight a losing battle, but you still try to bargain with the stubborn marshmallow in your lap. "I'll let you put lace on one of the shirts if you get off me," you offer. No promises about wearing it, though.
"Oh, puh-lease," Rarity scoffs. "We both know you'd never wear it."
Shit. She must be a mind reader. Damn unicorns and their overpowered magic.
"I have a better idea," she continues. "I'll pay for your meal if you carry me."
What the fuck is up with ponies wanting to be carried? Seriously, one of the first things Pinkie did after breaking befriending you was jump on your back. There doesn't seem to be any inherent reason to it, either—they just want it because they want it.
Then again, you get a free meal out of it, and it's not charity if you provide a service in return, right? The money you save here could go towards paying Rarity back for the clothes. Eventually.
"...Deal," you begrudgingly say. "But I'm not carrying you back to the boutique."
Rarity waves a hoof dismissively. "That's fine, darling. I'd prefer to walk off the calories anyway."
What.
"Then why don't you just walk there yourself?" you slowly ask. "Seems like you'd get more exercise that way."
"Are you implying I need to exercise more?" She narrows her eyes at you.
"What? No, I meant-"
"Because it sounds like you're calling me fat."
"That's not what I-"
"Nonny!" Pinkie gasps. "That was very mean. You shouldn't say things like that."
"I didn't! She just-"
"Upupup!" Rarity shoves a hoof in your face. "That doesn't sound like an apology."
These fucking horses, Jesus Christ.
You don't say anything, refusing to play their game. You simply stand up and start to walk towards the door. Unfortunately, Rarity's hooves are around your chest, not over your shoulders, so you have to wrap an arm around her lower back to keep her from sliding down.
She must have misinterpreted the movement as you hugging her, because she tightens her own hug and nuzzles into your chest.
"Apology accepted," she hums, a contented smile on her face.
You don't bother correcting her; it's not worth it. You hold back a sigh and walk out of the boutique. Rarity's horn lights up momentarily, flipping the sign in the window from 'OPEN' to 'CLOSED.'
The stares you received while carrying Pinkie the first time were nothing compared to the ones you're getting now. You can only imagine how ridiculous you must look carrying two ponies like children—one on your hip and the other on your back. At least no one is laughing at you.
Angling yourself in the direction of your house, you finally speak up.
"Where the f- ...Where are we going?"
"Hmm," Pinkie muses. "As long as we don't have to make reservations or wait in a line, I don't care. What about you, Rarity?"
"A good restaurant without a waiting list..." Rarity hums in thought. "The Greenhouse, perhaps?" she offers.
"Never heard of it. Let's go." You couldn't care less about where you're going. You just want food that isn't pure sugar or grass.
"Splendid! It's right across fr-"
"Straight ahead, Nonny!" Pinkie exclaims.
"M'kay."
"Hmph," Rarity pouts adorably. This only reaffirms your theory that ponies use their natural cuteness as a defense mechanism when they get upset.
You chew your tongue for a few moments, trying to think of a way to stop her assault. She's mad that she was cut off, but you know Pinkie didn't do it to be mean. In fact, the pink mare is resting her head on your shoulder, humming obliviously. She hasn't even noticed Rarity's expression.
"Uh... Hey, Rarity?" you venture. "Pinkie's 'straight ahead' was kinda vague. Do you think you could give me some better directions?" You've asked for directions twice today. Your pride as a man is sorely bruised.
Rarity instantly perks up. "But of course, darling! I'd be happy to assist," she smiles. She rattles off a list of buildings and streets you've never heard of. Amidst the confusing torrent of words, your brain manages to pick out "behind Town Hall." You know exactly where that is, so you tune out the rest of her needlessly detailed lecture about the geographical layout of Ponyville.
As always, Pinkie was right. The trip ends up being a straight shot with one minor curve around a fountain. The distance is thankfully short as well. Your muscles were starting burn from carrying these needy ponies, not to mention the uncomfortable slipper/shoe abominations on your feet.
The restaurant itself looks rather strange, having brown brick walls and a glass roof. Three out of ten, only vaguely resembles a greenhouse.
You step up to the little podium where a brown pegasus waiter is smiling up at you, looking confused by your unusual cargo for a brief moment. Before you can open your mouth, Rarity grabs the waiter's attention by waving a hoof.
"Table for three, please," she says in a sickeningly sweet voice.
"Preferably a corner booth," Pinkie pipes up. "Please and thank you."
"As you wish," the waiter says, bowing slightly. "Right this way, please."
To his credit, his professional demeanor never wavers while leading your odd group across the restaurant. The patrons, on the other hand, make no attempt to hide their amusement and confusion. You have no problem ignoring them.
Once at the booth, you gently place Rarity on the semicircular cushion. "Rarity." You then grab Pinkie, placing her directly on top of the table. "Pinks." And finally, you take your own seat across from Rarity. "Anon."
Pinkie predictably springs into your lap the moment you're settled. You don't even try to move her this time. You know how easily your resistance crumbles under her puppy-dog eyes. Rarity, for her part, doesn't seem perturbed in the slightest. Considering her trick with the yarn, she's probably very familiar with Pinkie being Pinkie.
"So," Rarity breaks the brief silence. "Not that I mind, Pinkie, but why a corner booth?"
"I dunno," she shrugs. "Nonny likes corners."
She's right. You like corners very much. From a corner, you can see everyone in the room without having to interact with them.
You feel a surge of affection for the mare in your lap. You grab her around the stomach and lift her up, making her giggle, then wrap her in a tight embrace. Her hooves are facing away from you, so she responds by nuzzling your neck, humming happily.
You feel a big, goofy smile on your face after you release her. You look up to see Rarity smirking at the both of you. It's not a normal smirk, either. No, it's one of those smirks. You've seen them on humans plenty of times, and they look exactly the same on a pony.
She thinks she knows something you don't.
"What?" you demand, trying not to sound irritated.
"Hm?" Rarity shakes her head, as if snapping out of a trance. Her smirk is replaced by a guilty expression. "I'm sorry, Anon, what were you saying?"
"What's with that face you were making?"
"Rarity made a face?" Pinkie gasps. "Ooh, show me! Show me!"
"It's nothing, Pinkie," she waves a hoof, smiling politely. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it."
"My head isn't little!" Pinkie responds defensively. "Your head is little!"
"You know what I meant, darling," Rarity says, rolling her eyes.
Before you can question Rarity further, a new waiter walks up to your table looking incredibly bored. His dead eyes and emotionless expression remind you of yourself in a way. You feel a small amount of kinship with this pony, despite knowing almost nothing about him.
"Welcome to The Greenhouse," he drones in monotone. "My name is Silver Platter, and I'll be your waiter for today." He roughly tosses a few menus onto the table, then takes out a small notepad from his pocket. Pencil poised to scribble, he asks, "What would you like to drink?"
"Iced tea with a lemon wedge," Rarity answers without hesitation.
"Do you have milkshakes?" Pinkie asks, ignoring the menus in front of her.
"...No," Silver Platter says slowly, his eye twitching. "We have-"
"What about smoothies?"
The poor guy looks like he's about to pop a blood vessel. You decide to step in before Pinkie unwittingly leads to the creation of a serial killer.
"She'll have some apple juice," you quickly say.
"Orange juice," she whispers in your ear. It's loud enough for the waiter to hear, but you humor Pinkie anyway.
"Orange juice," you correct. "And I'll have some apple juice."
"No, wait!" Pinkie slams her hooves on the table. "I changed my mind. I want apple juice."
The pencil in the waiter's hoof cracks slightly, causing you and Rarity to flinch. He slowly drags it back and forth across the paper, tearing it. When he looks back up, he simply stares off into nothingness, his eyes now bloodshot. He mumbles something unintelligible, then shuffles off—presumably to get your drinks. Or a knife.
Meanwhile, Pinkie is happily stacking the bottles of condiments on the table, oblivious to the warning signs.
You glance up to see Rarity hiding behind her menu. Trying to forget the situation, you grab a menu for yourself and look for something you can actually digest. Damn ponies, always eating grass and flowers and shit. The only thing that looks decent is the fruit salad. Ugh.
"Rarity, there's almost nothing I can eat here. I'm picking the restaurant next time."
Rarity glances up with a sly smile. "Next time? Why, Anon, don't you think it's a bit soon for-"
"Wait, is there really nothing you can eat?" Pinkie suddenly interjects. "Do we need to go to another restaurant? I-I-I can cook if there's nowhere else to go!" Pinkie is starting to work herself into a panic. She's almost hyperventilating, her ears pressed flat against her skull.
You put an end to that as fast as you can. Grabbing her cheeks, you turn her to face you, calmly saying, "No, Pinkie, we don't need to leave. There's stuff for me to eat here, it's just not a wide selection."
Pinkie slowly calms down, her breathing returning to normal. "...You promise?" she asks quietly.
"Yes, I promise. I'm getting the fruit salad, see?" You point to the dish on the menu. "I already did the whole 'Pinkie Promise' thing, anyway."
Pinkie takes your menu and stares closely at the two little words. Apparently finding nothing wrong, she eventually sighs and gently folds the menu back up before smacking your shoulder with it.
Ow. "What was that for?"
"I told you those jokes weren't funny," she huffs.
"I didn't even make a joke! I just said there's almost nothing to eat, which is true."
"Well... uh," her eyes dart back and forth, searching for a reasonable excuse. Her attention turns to Rarity, who motions her over. Taking the cue, Pinkie scoots along the cushion until she's next to her. Rarity whispers something in Pinkie's ear, making them both smile. Well, Pinkie smiles. Rarity is wearing an evil grin. You suddenly feel like you're witnessing your own funeral being planned.
A few more whispers, and Pinkie crawls back into your lap, now in a much better mood.
"Rarity says I'll forgive you if you babysit Sweetie Belle tomorrow," she cheerfully says.
"And Apple Bloom and Scootaloo," Rarity adds. "I have a fashion show tomorrow in Manehattan, so the girls and I decided to turn it into a little day trip of sorts. We've been looking for someone to watch them, and luckily, Pinkie says you'd be a great choice."
"Wait, what?" Pinkie tilts her head in confusion. "You said that, not me."
"Quiet, dear," Rarity hisses.
You've had enough of this. "Okay, hold up," you say, holding a hand up. Look at you, following your own directions. "Pinkie, what do you mean you'll 'forgive' me? I didn't even do anything wrong!"
"Rarity says you emotionally traumatized me."
What.
"...Do you feel traumatized?" you ask.
"I don't know what that means, but yes," she nods confidently.
You place your head in your hands, struggling not to be crushed by the sheer amount of 'what the fuck.' A few seconds later, Pinkie pries your hands away to look you square in the face.
With those goddamned puppy-dog eyes.
"Pleeeeeeeeeeease?"
You tear your eyes away to glare at Rarity. "What the fuck did you do to her?"
"Language, Anon," she chides. "And that doesn't sound like a 'no' to me."
You try to think of the most vulgar, obscene, not-very-nice way to deny her, but your focus is broken when Pinkie pokes your nose. You make the mistake of looking back down.
"Please?" she whispers, placing her chin on your chest to give you the full force of her double-barrel baby blues.
Fucking...
"Fine," you sigh. Pinkie tries to kill you by squeezing your rib cage as hard as she can. The pain is slightly lessened when she nuzzles into your chest.
"Thank you, Nonny," she says, her voice muffled by the fabric. You place a hand on her head, trying to find a small amount of comfort in the soft mane.
Why can't you just say no to this mare?