//------------------------------//
// Spike 
// Story: Spike Snuggles Everypony 
// by B_25 
//------------------------------//


~ Spike ~


The crackling fire was but a distant sound to her ears; the orange glow bathing the room the furthest sight to her amethyst eyes. Twilight Sparkle sat, like all the days prior for the past week, alone before the fire. She'd dream of times like these, curled up before the warm fire, a good book in her hooves, the only sounds being the hiss of wind and the crackling fire.

They only served to compound her solitude.

Twilight flipped the page of the large purple book, its pages bigger than any of those she'd read before; a lot thicker too. At every page that passed, she both smiled and cried, staring at the pictures of the album book trying to summon forth the memory associated with it.

One photo stood out from the rest. In the photo, the room was dark, the only light that of the moon's glow, yet bright enough to illuminate the scattered toys of the floor, of the drawers slid partially out and the door left half-open, but, most importantly of all, the light showed to the viewer of the children sleeping on the bed.

The starry-night blanket was hanging off the right side of the bed, but the children didn't seem to notice, each deriving their warmth from the other's body. The baby dragon laid in the lavender filly's hooves, huddled against her chest with his claw strung around her neck, each holding the other tightly even in night's embrace.

Even though the lighting was low, their smiles were distinguishable.

A tear fell on the photo, followed by a lavender hoof closing the book, it clapping slightly as it was set back on the wooden floor. Twilight looked into the fire, pondering deeply as the flames danced atop the wood, voices speaking inside her mind.

"He was a wonderful guest," Fluttershy had told her, book clutched underneath her forehoof. "He even managed to get all the animals tended to on time. He such a great little assistant, which is why Rainbow..."

	Twilight shook the voice, standing up. She turned around, peering upwards and into the window held together by duct-tape.

"He's an awesome couch buddy," Rainbow had said, lying on her belly of the library's floor, surrounded by shattered glass. "He even balanced my books and did my taxes. We had pizza afterward, then wondered how apples would taste on pizza, and then we began talking about Applejack..."

	Twilight shook her head, but it did little to quell the voices. So what if she hadn't seen the drake for a few days? He was allowed to have his own life, and her friends were entitled to his help as much as she was. Still, the logic did nothing to suppress the pang of pain she felt in her heart.

"Shucks Twilight, had I know that boy had spirit, I would've given him a chance sooner," Applejack had told her, hat held against her chest. "If there's days ya don't need him, I'd love to have him up the farm. He'll be paid, of course, which is the reason why Sugarcube Corner..."

	Twilight's horn ignited in a lavender glow, and when she turned back towards the fire, she summoned the same magic around it; steam resulting moments later from the now darkened chamber. The same glow then reappeared around the purple book, floating over to its owner's side.

"Cuddle-wuddly, you could make a business outta him!" Pinkie said, bouncing around the library with her face scrunched up in glee. "Had I know cuddling was all it took to knock his walls down, I would have done it sooner! You can bet that Rarity..."

	The clip-clop of hooves resounded from the wooden steps. Twilight didn't bother with a spell of light; it wasn't like she was focused on the present anyway. She entered her room, bathed in the same glow as the picture captured years ago, though far fainter and much darker than it was before.

"He could be an artist if he put himself to it," Rarity said in a hush, as if afraid of wakening him up from across town. "He could be a lot of things if the right ponies teach him, but, for now, he's napping on my couch. I don't suppose he could..."

	Once the bed was within distance, Twilight hopped onto it, not bothering to pull back the blanket as she landed atop the mattress. She stayed like that, still, for moments, perhaps minutes, maybe even hours, silent and unmoving, unable to think, nonetheless break this curse that had consumed her.

A week ago, her life was filled with friends and books. Only one thing had changed, a tiny little thing in her mind, yet without it, the silence truly became intolerable, and her body never so hollow. Twilight clutched the book close to her chest, imagining scales instead of leather, hoping to take even an iota of warmth the pictures inside the book proclaimed.

Twilight Sparkle went to sleep cold that night.





Smoke.

Her snout twitched. Not entirely smoke, but a scent accompanied by fire for sure. Her eyes slipped open, glad at first to see the absence of black clouds, but flinging a hoof up to block the harsh rays of sunlight. Ever so slowly, Twilight began to sit up, but found it harder than it should.

When she looked down, a blanket covered her up to her chest, and when she looked right, she found the album sitting on her desk. Then, she gazed across the room, finding clean floors and dusted shelves, and for a moment, Twilight wondered if the week-long solitude had driven her mind.

A hiss came from downstairs. More of the scent wafted upstairs. And then, Twilight Sparkle realized that she was not alone, and could not be blamed for jumping out of her bed and galloping downstairs to the kitchen. Metal clanked. Something delicious hissed. Humming filled the air.

She slowed at the last step, indulging in the sounds as if she would never hear them again, that if she turned this corner, they would all suddenly disappear, and her hope would run out. With a deep breath, Twilight took the step and came to the kitchen's archway.

Spike stood atop a stool, white chef's hat and pink apron, claw on the handle of a pan as he flicked upwards—pancakes gaining air before falling once more against the heat. His tongue was stuck out in constriction, obvious to the other in the room.

'It's...him,' Twilight thought, blinking at the sight as though it were unreal. 'He's been gone for a week, and just like that, he's back to cooking us dinner—like nothing ever happened. I can't believe it.'

Those thoughts never stopped coming. Twilight kept standing there, unsure what to say, uncertain what to say, for the first time in a long while so unconfident as to what the next course of action should be. She knew she shouldn't be feeling like this, that ponies come and leave our lives of their own violation, and yet, others don't make such a big deal out of it. She should feel the same: the drake wasn't hers after all.

Spike snapped his head from his work, feeling something in the air, and by the time he looked to the archway, he had noticed a tear hit the floor. He smiled, about to ask what was wrong and that breakfast was almost done, but was sooner tackled by a pair of forehooves and brought to the floor, the mare that held him close taking the brute of the contact.

"T-Twilight?!"

She hadn't know why she cried. She didn't understand why she tackled him. She didn't understand why she felt the way she did. She didn't understand why she was so possessive over this dragon, one with his own free will. She didn't know what Spike was to her.

"S-Spike..." her voice crack and her tone was hoarse, yet she looked deeply into his emerald eyes and stroked his cheek with a hoof. "I-I've missed you so much."

Spike looked confused, and for a moment, Twilight was horrified. Here was this drake who finally got his taste of freedom, of spending time with her friends without her, and they all seemed to enjoy themselves just as fine. He must have been wondering why she was giving him such a reaction, that he didn't possess the same depth of feelings for her that she had towards him.

Twilight began to pull back her hooves, sniffling back her sobs and blinking her eyes to erase any trace of tears, but before he could succeed in any of those goals, the drake matched them in spades. A wobbly smile took to his lips, tears cascading down his cheeks. His stubbly arms reached around her neck, pulling her larger muzzle closer towards her own, denying her the possibility of pulling away even an inch.

Not that Twilight wanted to.

"I'm so glad you're home," she said.

"I'm so glad you missed me," he said.

They said nothing more. Their feelings, raw and overpowering, were felt by each other through the contact of their bodies, through the rhythm of their breathing, through the fabric of their beings. They stayed like that for quite some time, despite the burning pancakes and the burnt coffee, more than just content in their mutual embrace.





When the purple duo finally broke away, it wasn't through choice—Celestia forbid, they would've stayed like that all day and all night, but on cue to their synchronization, their bellies grumbled at the absence of food in them. They both blushed, looked up at one another, and laughed, then getting up from the floor and taking their seats at the table.

Time passed awkwardly between them at first. Each knew the other felt the same way about them, but never quite knowing the finer details as they dug into their charred pancakes and awfully tasting coffee—but Spike took his black so he hardly noticed a difference.

'I've have to tell him," she thought.

'Will she find me weird if I tell her?" he thought.

A beat.

"Spike—"

"Twilight—"

They both dipped their heads, with Twilight's mane covering most of her face, while Spike was forced to bear his blush to the world.

They tried again.

"Y-You go first," she said.

"N-No you," he said.

Silence again.

Spike sighed, clutched his fist, and summoned up the words that needed to be said. "T-Twilight?"

She looked up, face partly hidden by her mane. "Yes, Spike?"

Spike looked at her, at the best friend and at the greatest unicorn alive, of the filly he watched grow into a mare, of the loner who made some friends, of the shut-in who'd save the world and became a part of the Element of Harmony in the process. In his eyes, despite her messes and her flaws, Twilight was perfection, and for whatever ungodly reason, she liked him back.

Spike clenched his fist tighter atop the table, almost drawing blood with his claw at being unable to say what he needed to say. He'd learned confidence from Rainbow, that no pony was truly better than another, yet at this point, he had a hard time believing it.

"C-Can you t-take a note for m-me please?" he asked, not daring to face her. "F-For Princess Celestia, I mean."

Twilight blinked at the request, raising her head so that her eyes were once again visible. Her horn ignited, and a few moments later, a scroll float through the air and landed on the table, accompanied by a quill and a bottle of ink. She cleared her throat.

"Dear Princess Celestia," Spike began, chuckling at his own voice, and then, hearing the sound of a quill scratching against parchment. "I'm writing to you now to tell you about the week I had. I've always been close to Twilight, closer than I'll ever be to anypony else in my life, and once I was sure she felt the same way."

The quill stopped scratching. Spike didn't dare look back. A few moments later, the sound returned, and Spike continued.

"Ever since moving to Ponyville, I've felt as though I've been losing her every day. She had gotten these new pony friends, who were so much better than me in every day possible, that it seemed like a fact that I would be tossed aside for the new."

The quill scratched. There was a sharp intake of breath. He tried to ignore it and continued.

"Fluttershy was quick to pick up on my feelings, helping me process through the ones that I'm not so proud of now," he said with a heavy sigh. "She then sent me to meet with each one of the girls, at first just to help, but at the end of each day, I'd learn something important and gained a true friend because of it. I was so confident on becoming the drake that would be worthy of being Twilight's assistant."

There was a sound other than the scratch of a quill. Spike knew the sound; he had made plenty of them himself throughout the week, even now as he spoke, yet, if he had the courage to look up, he wouldn't have been composing the letter in the first place.

"It wasn't until I was Rarity that I realized what I had done wrong, why all that had happened suddenly felt so cheap," he said, more tears pelting against his chair. "That journey wasn't meant for Twilight, it was meant for me to deal with my insecurity, and in doing so, I failed Twilight more than I ever done before in my life."

He raised his head but didn't dare look right.

"It's my job as number-one assistant to always be there for her," the words were little more than a croak. "Yet I left her to go embark on some selfish quest to become something more for her, everything I learned mattering little as I sit here now. To be honest, I'm not even writing to you, Celestia."

Finally, he looked right, and into Twilight's eyes.

"I'm writing this to you, Twilight," he said, unable to compose himself any longer, "because I was too much of a coward to say it outright. I love you, Twilight, and I don't think I'm good enough for you."

Twilight stared at him, eyes burning just as much as his, mouth slightly agape. Her shoulders shook, she felt like a mess, as she alleviated a scroll and a quill over to him. He looked at her, surprised and crying, yet her gaze told him everything, as he nodded his head.

"Dear Princess Celestia," she began as well, not fairing much better than Spike did, "I'm writing to you as well about that same week. I thought it would be like any other, but I was terribly mistaken in thinking that. It'd been a week I'd been dreaming about for quite some time, but it quickly turned into a nightmare."

Spike tilted his head at the revelation, looking over the table at Twilight, only to find her head dipped and face hidden. She'd paid him the same respect when he had exposed himself, something he thought only he feared, yet returned the same favor and went back to writing.

"I've never had to deal with an empty home before," she said, tone wavering, "No matter how dark my room was, or how silent the night, I've always had my number-one assistant there. Those late-night study sessions weren't ever lonely, so long as I could hear his distant snoring."

The two couldn't help themselves: they chuckled.

"But sometimes...sometimes he can get on my n-nerves," Twilight had to squeak out, the words slicing their way up her throat. "I-I don't always r-react the way when he does. I-I always say things I regret, o-or ignore him when he just wants to help, e-even hanging out with my other friends i-instead of him."

Spike noticed his handwriting was almost unreadable; he couldn't help himself, his claws hadn't stopped shaking ever since she began talking.

"I-I never thought what kind of effect it would have on him, in fact, I-I didn't think at all," her words were a whine, each one making her bleed inside. "I took advantage of the fact, that if I had a bad day, that Spike would be there with coca. That if I needed someone to listen, he'd be there with both his ears and a load of questions." She choked back a sob. "But then, we had a slumber party at the library, and even though I had most of my friends there, everything suddenly felt so empty."

Spike couldn't keep his claw from shaking, the words struck him to the core, hurting him as much as they did her in the seedling of hope that had been instilled in his heart. He didn't want to hope for fear of it all being some sick joke, yet he couldn't help it, and did not care if all he wrote were scribbles on a page.

"The next days were even worse, where I thought the peace and quiet would be the best things ever. I was so terribly wrong. I called out to my assistant so many times, waiting for him to respond, to come to my aid and read along, but I was alone." She shook her head, bringing her forehooves to her eyes. "It only got worse, when, every day, I waited for him to come home, only for my friends to tell me that wouldn't be the case."

Spike gulped, ducking his head in shame.

"I-I don't know why, but even though I told the girls that it was okay, that I had no right to be mad, I couldn't help but be angry inside," she said, lowering her hooves. "He was my number one assistant, but course it would be fine for him to help others. But I still felt angry. Why?"

Spike kept silent, still writing.

"It took a few more days, of silence and loneliness, for it all to finally click," she said, looking forward with clear eyes. "I wasn't afraid of you helping them, I was afraid of them taking you. And even now, I'm writing this to you, Spike, because I'm also a coward."

Finally, he couldn't help it any longer, looking up from his chair, and locking eyes with the mare he loved.

"I made you a promise long ago to never feel like the way you did because I felt that way," Twilight said, straining to keep the contact. "But when those feelings died away because of my friends, I forgot they still existed in you. I neglected you, Spike, in every way possible, and I'm a terrible friend because of it."

Spike wanted to tell her just how wrong she was but found his throat too dry to speak.

"The reason w-why you went on this journey, the reason why y-you felt the way you do, i-is because I treated you only as an assistant." Spike stopped writing, rather, the quill dropped from his claw as he kept still. "You're not just an assistant, Spike, you're my best friend!" She stood up from the table, quickly coming around it to the dragon's seat, who didn't hesitate to jump towards her.

Twilight caught him, sitting down as she held him close, feeling his claws wrap around her barrel as she felt his tears make her chest slick. She did not mind in the slightest as she whispered into his ear. "You are my first, and you are my greatest friend, Spike, and no pony could ever hope to replace you. If this lonely library had taught me anything, Spike, it's that I need you as much you need me."

The two then broke down, crying onto each other, holding each other tightly. Then, it happened, something that you would only expect from the two: they began to laugh as they cried. It was an odd mixture, to be sure, but as the tears were running down their faces, their mouths were laughing a sweet melody to the other's ears.

It stretched on for a little while, lasting until the tears began to stop and their throats began to dry. They stuck together for quite some time still, until Twilight broke the silence with three simple words, ones Spike had been waiting most of his life to hear again.

"I love you, Spike."

Spike's reply, at first, was to simply clap his hands. It surprised Twilight, who brought back her head to get a better look at his face, only to see the biggest smile she'd ever seen him wear. Then she heard singing, and, looking to the window, saw it opened and a flock of birds flying it.

Twilight recognized them from anywhere: they were Fluttershy's birds, and they were carrying items in their talons to drop off on the table, things she recognized immediately.

The first item was a cult-classic she knew to be Rainbow's all-time favorite.

The second item was a basket, filled with apples and seeds, enough to start a small garden in front of the library.

The third item was a box with a verity of donuts and other sweets, as well as enough ingredients to try their hoof and claw at making their own batches.

Then the fourth item was a white dress and faux-metal suit, which caused Twilight to cry again, remembering the duo's origin.

By the time she looked back to the drake, he had placed his lips on her cheek and kissed it for all he felt towards this mare, this unicorn that felt the same emptiness when he was away, and the same joy when they were having fun. That she would be there for him, always, and the same could be said to her, as well as the five friends that made this all possible.

Spike backed away from the kiss, smiling up at her.



"I love you too, Twilight."