"That's odd," Rarity pulled ahead of Spike as they approached the boutique. A small wooden crate sat on the doorstep, a cube as tall as Twilight, and topped with a silver ribbon. It wasn't at the large front door, bright and visible, that even Applejack could fit through, but on the doorstep of the back door. The door that was quietly tucked away between two trees and a small patch of flowers, mostly gladiolas. "I wasn't expecting any packages today."
"Hold on!" Spike ran ahead of her, reaching the crate first. "With all the nasty surprises we've had lately, I- Oh!" He pulled a shipping label off the crate and smiled. "5 Castle Way," he read out loud. "That's Rose's Storehouse. She and Celestia are the only ones allowed to make shipments from there." He held out the paper as Rarity approached. "Whatever it is, it's for you."
"Why would either of them be sending me anything?" She took the offered label and inspected it herself. The first thing she noticed was how many times it said, 'fragile.' It was quite a few. "Who is Rose, dear?"
"Dragartha's brew-master," Spike answered. "She makes everything from potions to Celestia's favorite tea. She's probably the greatest alchemist alive, and has written some of the most comprehensive books available on potion-making."
"Do you think she sent me a potion?" Rarity looked down at the crate. "It doesn't say we can't use magic on the crate. Should we bring it inside?"
"I don't see why not." Spike opened the door, then turned around to pick up the crate, only to see that Rarity beat him to it. Spike quickly pushed the door open a little wider and stepped out of her way. "After you."
"Thank you, dear." She brought the crate in, and set it down in the cozy sitting room just inside the door. Easy to clean tile, small coffee table, a couch, and a mudbench with raincoats and galoshes for her and Twilight. Comfortably sized for her and her current guest, it would be downright cramped for her other friends. Most of them wouldn't even fit in here. Nor would they fit in the neighboring kitchen, dining room, or the upstairs studio and bedroom. They would fit, however, in the business spaces that made up most of the building; showroom, workshop, fitting room, etc. "There's a toolbox under the bench. Be a dear and fetch the crowbar out of it, would you?"
"Ok." Spike headed over. "You keep a crowbar near the door?"
Rarity glanced over, holding her claws out towards the crate. "This isn't the first crate I've recieved, Spike. It isn't even the first one this week. Remember, this is my place of business, as well as my house."
Spike found the box, located the crowbar within, and brought it over to her. "I thought you lived at the library with Twilight?"
With a shrug, she held her claw out for the tool Spike brought her. "For the most part, I do. But her family owns the library, I am merely a guest. I own this building, and one day, when Twilight is old enough to live on her own, I suppose I will return to living here full-time. Not that I won't be visiting her at the library on a regular basis, of course. However, as much as I care for her as if she were my own, it is important to remember that she isn't, and to cultivate her sense of independence and individuality."
Spike nodded slowly. "Sounds like you've put a lot of thought into it."
"Yes," Rarity agreed absent-mindedly, "thought." She took the crowbar to the crate, carefully easing individual nails out of the top. "Thought, and time, and sleepless nights wondering if I'm doing the right thing. Not to mention, so many times, I will decide to do one thing, and then, when the time comes, and I have to make the decision with her next to me, I do something completely different." She worked the last nail out, and held her tool out for Spike to put away. "I've been told that's a common experience for single mothers. I've also been told I have a talent for looking after hatchlings, so I suppose it all works out."
Spike laughed as he took the crowbar, and returned it to its box. "Well, If I had any hatchlings, you'd be first one I ask to look after them."
Rarity paused for a moment, tapping the lid of the crate. She was about to open it, but felt she should probably address Spike's comment. "I would hope so," she muttered, "given they would probably be mine, what with the Terris-Earthmate dynamic of our relationship. Which we have yet to talk about, by the way."
"I, um," Spike scratched his mane, "I thought we weren't going to talk about it."
"We agreed that we wouldn't let it control us," she corrected. "I do sort of feel we need to talk about it. A serious, sit-down discussion, possibly over tea, of exactly what each of us wants, or expects, out of this situation."
Spike raised an eyebrow. "Expects?"
"Not, 'expects,' expects," Rarity vaguely clarified. "Not as in, either of us holding any sort of, um, expectations, of the other, you see? More like, what problems do we expect to arise if we, um, pursue things?"
The pony stared blankly, mouth hanging open. "Uh, well, first off, um the noticeable problem is we are, um..." He scratched his mane again, being much rougher with it, and letting out a frustrated grunt. "Alright, I don't know how else to say this, but it feels like we've been dancing around the main issue here."
"I certainly agree with that, darling." With a sigh, Rarity leaned against the crate. "We've both been hesitant to discuss certain things. Honestly, I'm still hesitant. I would be more than happy to sit down to tea while forgetting everything that's happened to us these last few days."
Spike walked over to the crate, sitting across from Rarity. He leaned against it himself, reaching one hoof across to gently touch her neck, where her makeup hid an even larger scar than before. "But it did happen." Spike shook his head. "Things have changed, and we need to move forward, instead of getting caught in our own fears."
She grasped his hoof, holding it there to her scales. "And how will you move forward?"
"By saying something I should have a few days ago." He pulled his hoof back, bring her claw with it. He shifted, taking a deep breath as he brought his other hoof up to gently clasp her claw in both. "I like you. I really, really, like you. It's more than safe to say that I am falling in love with you. This isn't doesn't have anything do with Terris, the Earthmates, or any of that." He swallowed hard. "More formally... I, Spike, of Dragartha, Chosen Prince of Draconica wish to court you, Rarity of Dragonspire, Armorer and Clothier. My intentions are to gain your favor, to walk by your side, and to one day gain your token. Would you honor me with a response?"
She stared at him in shock, unblinking, mouth moving as she fought to get words out. "I, um, I think I could use a glass of that tea, right about now." She turned around, pulling away from his claws and pulling the unsecured lid from the crate. She took one look inside, ate the ornate crystal decanter packed in straw, and ammended her statement. "That's even better. I'll get glasses."
She ran out of the room, towards the kitchen, but stopped halfway through the living room. It's happening! He said it! She looked back at the doorway she came through, and turned to face it. She needed to respond, tell him how she felt about it. She turned back towards the kitchen. She also needed to calm down, give herself time to get her nerves under control. She turned around again. But, it would be rude not to respond promptly. She turned around yet again. Though, her mouth suddenly felt very dry.
With a frustrated shout, she turned around one last time and ran back into the foyer. She charged at the confused pony standing there and threw her claws around him. "Thank you," she cried, burying her face in his soft fur. "Thank you, yes, I accept, Spike. Of course I do! Earthmate or not, I want this. I want you, and I would gladly have you by my side."
She pulled back, looking up as he smiled down at her. Then, as he opened his mouth to respond, she ran off again, leaving a very confused pony to throw his hooves in the air.
Spike scratched his forehead and leaned against the crate. Well, he finally said it. And, it seemed, he managed to thoroughly freak her out. Still, she said yes. He brought his hoof to his neck, where she buried her face when she hugged him. "Holy crap," he muttered breathlessly, "she said yes."
There was a clinking sound, and he looked over to see Rarity enter the room again. A pair of delicate looking glasses trailed behind in her magic. She smiled, shyly, refusing to meet the pony's eyes. "Shall we, dear?"
"Huh?" He glanced down into the box. "Oh, yes!" Realizing that the fancy decanter was a beverage of some kind, he worked it out of the crate and floated it over to the coffee table. He admired the clear as water, yet bright red, liquid as the faceted container caught and reflected light from around the room. "What is it?"
"Only one of the most sought after beverages in all of Draconica, Ruby Fireball." She set the glasses down on leather coasters as she moved to his side. Both of them were now staring into the crystalline depths of the drink. "Finely powdered ruby, fire opal, pyrope, realgar, and cinnabar, blended with a slow-brewed cinnamon concoction, then filtered and reduced. Five hundred liters of raw brew are simmered down to produce the amount in front of us. Only a few hundred bottles are produced each year."
"Sounds spicy," Spike noted. "Have you had it before?"
"I wish, darling!" Rarity leaned over the decanter, catching sight of her reflection in the facets. "This is the first time I've even seen a bottle so close. Isn't it just marvelous? Even the container is a work of art."
Spike leaned in to inspect the bottle closer. "It is nice," he agreed. Each face was flawlessly cut like the facet of a gem, surrounding a minimalistic pink label, on which, sat a logo of gold leafed flames centered around a single faceted ruby, probably less than a single carat of weight. "How expensive is a bottle of this stuff?"
"I don't rightly know," she admitted. "I've never made it off the waiting list." She glanced over at Spike. "I suppose this is a gift from your mother?"
"Yeah," Spike nodded, "I guess. This doesn't seem like something that gets sent by accident." With a sigh, he added, "she knows."
"Knows?" Rarity raised an eyebrow. "About?"
"Us," he shrugged, "that I'm Terris, and you're the Earthmate."
"I see," a blush rose on her face, "so, this would be a congratulatory gift?"
"What would she be congratulating us on?"
Her blush deepened. "Let's just nevermind that for now."
"Oh. I see." Spike scratched his cheek. "Is it alcoholic?"
"Oh, most definitely not. Can you imagine? It would burst into flames the second a fire-breather tried to drink it. All those gems and and spices?"
"That makes sense, I guess." He looked over at her. She glanced over, but looked away the moment their eyes met. "Hey," he put his hoof around her, and leaned in to whisper, "why don't you sit down? I'll pour."
"Sounds like a good idea." Rarity made her way around the table, and climbed up on the sofa as spike unsealed the decanter. The scent of cinnamon filled the room like incense. Subtle hints of other spices mingled with it, becoming stronger as Spike poured out a small amount into each of the glasses. "Oh, my, that is quite powerful, isn't it?"
Spike nodded his agreement as he sealed the beverage back up. A tentative whiff off one of the glasses was rewarded by a sinus-cleansing wave of spice. "Like fire without smoke," he mused, before clearing his throat. "This would probably get that stain off the Library's kitchen counter. The one by the sink?"
Rarity gasped as Spike made his way around to her. "You wouldn't dare! Besides, you should have another way to get a stain out of a granite counter."
"Sure I do," Spike laughed, climbing up beside her, "but melting the countertops might damage the cabinets." He offered her one of the glasses, and sank backwards into the cushions with a sigh. "I've tried my new magic a few times, and I can't seem to make stone move like you do. Every time I try, I end up with a blob of lava."
She moved, pressing herself against him. The cushions sunk even deeper under the weight of two now. "You're focusing too much on making the stone liquid, and not enough on the movement itself. I used to do the same thing. I'll help you with it, but later. For now, we're alone, with a strong drink. There are more appropriate things for us to discuss, aren't there, dear?"
"There are," he agreed. With a smile, he ran his hoof over her cheek, following the smooth scales back until his hoof was resting on her side. "Let's discuss them, shall we?" He took a sip of his drink, and promptly forgot whatever else he was about to say. The small amount of liquid that splashed onto his tongue had evaporated into a white-hot mist. He gasped, the room's air fridgid as it washed over the inside of his mouth. His face flushed red as he forced his mouth shut, and swallowed the faintest drop of liquid. It was a dull burn all the way down, radiating warmth from deep within him. "Wow."
Rarity chuckled at his unfocused gaze. "That good?" She regarded her glass for a moment, and took a sip as well. She was more adventurous than Spike had been, and had to clench her mouth shut to fight the urge to immediately cough it up. She swallowed it down, coughing as it burned its way to her core. "I've eaten magma that wasn't this hot." Air tingled against the walls of her open mouth, bitingly cold. She closed her mouth quickly, swallowing the residual flavor. It was much more pleasant the second time, the after-taste of cinnamon and ruby distinctly noticeable. Her second sip was much smaller, just enough to gain a stronger hint of the flavor. Her lips burned as she licked the faint trace of the red liquid away. "My, my."
"Unexpected," Spike said as he stared into his glass, "Isn't it?"
She chuckled at the statement. "That's an understatement, dear." She looked up at him, and leaned close, chin pressed to his chest, ruffling back and forth in the unruly fur. "Your face is positively flushed, darling. Is it too much for you?"
"Nothing I can't handle," he replied softly, tucking his own chin to put himself snout to snout with her. "How about you? Your face is almost as red as our drinks. Too much cinnamon?"
"It isn't all from our libations,"she confided, with a devious smile. She inched closer. "I wonder what else could be contributing?"
"Hmm, I wonder?" He ran his hoof through her flowing crest. "I have a theory, and I'd love to hear your thoughts on it." He tilted his head as he slowly moved closer. "Stop me if I'm wrong."
"Never, darling," came the whispered reply as Rarity closed her eyes.
Someone knocked on the door.
Spike looked up at the source of the sudden sound. "You've got to be kidding me."
"Ignore them," Rarity whispered, "maybe they'll go away."
"Rarity?" Asked a voice.
"You in there, honey?" Asked another.
"My parents," Rarity hissed as she jumped up, running her claws over her scales and crest in a rushed attempt to smooth out her appearance. "They have a key," she warned Spike as she hopped down from the sofa. She called out in a hurry. "Mom! Dad! Let me get that door foor you."
While she headed to the door, Spike hopped off the couch. He quickly poured the contents of both glasses back into the bottle, then stuffed it and the empty glasses back into the crate. As he stood there, ready to slam the lid back in place, he froze. He stared at the bottle, its ruby red contents shimmering.
What was he doing? He and Rarity were both young by any dragon's standard, but they were mature, independent, and fully capable of having a drink together without having to hide it or make excuses. But things were going past just the drink, and these were her parents. How embarassed must she be? He would be mortified if Celestia ever caught them, despite the fact she seemed to be encouraging things.
The door opened, and he slammed the lid down, shouting, "Crate's almost ready to ship out!" He swallowed hard, almost as hard as he had swallowed his pride with that proud exclamation. He glanced at the floor, and resolved to swallow the rest of his pride for Rarity's sake. He grabbed the nails off the floor and started hammering them into the crate with his hoof.
He finished up with the crate, drawing stares from the three dragons by the door. Rarity and her parents watched as he carried out his grand deception. He double-checked that the lid was secure, inspected the label, nodded his head sagely before hoisting the crate with magic and heading straight for the door.
Magnum and Lapua watched the pony marched out, then looked at each other. "We interrupted something," Magnum told his wife.
"I agree," Lapua responded, glancing back at her daughter.
"No," Rarity waved her claw rapidly, dismissing the notion, "not at all."
"We can tell," Lapua countered, "Your face is flushed, and I know the smell of real Ruby Fireball."
Magnum nodded his head towards the door. "Go."
"Thank you," Rarity said quietly, and ran after him. It didn't take her long to catch up, but they were out of earshot from her parents by the time she did. He turned around as she ran up, and she threw her claw over his mouth before he could say anything. "Spike, thank you for trying to save me from embarassment, but it isn't necessary. We aren't going to hide. From now on, I want you to be proud of us." She lowered her claw and, despite the distance between them and any dragon listening, whispered, "As soon as we have time, we need to get back together and finish our drinks. And, perhaps, follow things to their... proper conclusion, hmm?"
Spike nodded nervously. "I... I'd like that."
"I know you would," she laughed softly. "Take care, dear."
Spike stared after her as she turned and walked away. His heart was pounding, and he felt shaky as he turned away himself. He held his head high as he marched away with a smile. She wanted him to be proud of them? Of her?
He already was.