//------------------------------// // Incompetence Is Key // Story: You're Getting Better // by 2Merr //------------------------------// For the first time in your new life, you’re out of bed well before sunrise. You slept like a rock last night, but the pony gods apparently didn’t like that. They woke you up somewhere around five in the morning because they knew it wouldn’t give you enough time to fall back asleep. Fucking assholes. Since then, you’ve been sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee, staring at nothing while the minutes crawl by. The silence has given you plenty of time to try sorting through your thoughts. Yes, you have feelings for Pinkie. There’s no getting around that. The only problem is that you still have no idea what to do with that information. On the surface, it seems like there are only two options: tell her how you feel, or keep it locked away with all your other insecurities. You’re really good at the second one. You’ve been bottling that shit up since middle school, which may or may not be why you’re emotionally stunted, but that’s not the issue here. The issue is what to do going forward. Your heart is saying to go for it and tell her, but your brain is saying the opposite. And yeah, your brain doesn’t have the best track record when it comes to decision making, but what if it turns out to be right this time? What if Pinkie thinks you’re a weirdo and doesn’t want to talk to you anymore? What if she’s already interested in someone else? What if she throws up? What if you throw up? There are so many things that can go wrong, so many potential ways for you to fuck it all up. There’s only one pony you would consider asking for advice about this, but you can’t exactly waltz on over to her place when it’s still technically night. You don’t want people to think you’re a criminal or a pervert. But is there really any point to getting advice when you know you’re going to fail anyway? Maybe it would be better to- A sudden flash of motion outside the window snaps you from your introspection. You congratulate yourself for using such a fancy word, then look up just in time to see the front door of Sugarcube Corner swing shut. Not a second later, you hear a single, soft knock against your own door, followed by the click of it opening. “Nonny~,” Pinkie whispers, poking her muzzle through the crack. You can’t think of anything cool to say, so you answer by loudly slurping your coffee. Pinkie throws the door open, her face lighting up when she sees you. “Nonny, you’re awake!” She zips inside, closing the door with a flick of her tail. Your spaghetti glands haven’t had time to warm up yet, but The Pink One cares not. She wiggles her hips like a cat before pouncing at you from across the room. You barely have enough time to put your mug down before awkwardly half-catching her. Your stomach and legs actually do most of the catching, but Pinkie doesn’t seem to mind. “Hi, Nonny,” she says, poking your nose with a hoof. You try to respond, but your brain does what it does best and shuts down at a critical moment. Unable to say anything, you’re left staring at Pinkie’s unexpectedly lithe form sprawled across your lap. Her coat is disheveled as if she just rolled out of bed, but her eyes are already bright and full of energy. To your surprise, the panic and nervousness from yesterday is almost entirely gone. Your stomach is doing things a stomach doesn’t normally do, but it’s not an unpleasant feeling. Aside from that, you don’t feel a whole lot different. Pinkie is still Pinkie, you’re still you, water is still wet. Okay, so you like your best friend a little more than normal. So what? You can’t control how you feel. In fact, it’s Pinkie’s fault more than anything. You keep telling her to stop being so goddamn adorable, but does she ever listen? No, of course not. She keeps on smiling and laughing and being even more adorable and pink. It’s despicable. “Nonny?” Pinkie pokes your nose again. “Did you fall asleep with your eyes open? Gummy does that sometimes.” You shake your head as your brain finally reboots. Pinkie is staring at you expectantly, so you return her greeting boop, setting off an explosion of giggles. She writhes around as if being tickled, snorting between breaths. She lets out a particularly loud snort, then gasps and covers her mouth, a light blush forming on her cheeks. You start to laugh at this, which makes Pinkie laugh again. This of course causes her to loudly snort again, making you laugh even harder. As you struggle to catch your breath, you can tell you have the dopiest smile on your face, but you don’t even care. You’re happy right now. When the giggles have mostly faded, Pinkie releases a happy sigh and snuggles more closely against you. “This is a really good morning,” she says. You can’t disagree, but that doesn’t stop the shitty part of your personality from complaining. “I’m still not sure I like being awake at this hour.” “I like it!” Pinkie smiles, nuzzling your stomach. “Yeah, but you’re used to it.” “I was talking about you, silly. If you’re up early, you can spend more time with me!” That’s... not a bad point. However, saying that out loud would mean admitting that mornings aren’t the worst thing in the world. So instead, you try to distract Pinkie with the most effective method you can think of. As if sensing your intent, Pinkie rolls onto her back, giving you an almost pleading look. You’re more than happy to oblige, placing a hand on her chest and gently snaking your fingers down through the soft fur. She coos softly, seeming to melt more and more with each repetition. “I missed this,” she sighs. “What, being pampered?” “No! Wait, yes. But I missed you! I almost didn’t get to see you at all yesterday. You went to bed right when I got back.” Yeah, you totally sperged out yesterday. You were caught off guard by your own emotions, but that’s no excuse for basically avoiding Pinkie, not to mention it being just plain pathetic. “Sorry,” you say lamely. “Don’t be sorry,“ Pinkie smiles. “I’m sure you needed your rest. I remember my first time babysitting for the Cakes and let me tell you, that was exhausting. Flour is so hard to clean out of my mane.” You have no idea what she’s talking about, but at least she’s not upset with you. “Speaking of flour,” she continues, stretching in all directions before rolling to her hooves. “I should get started on breakfast. I hope you like biscuits!” Biscuits and coffee sounds great right now. You stand with the intention of refilling your mug, but then you realize the sun is finally starting to come up. This is your chance to rush downtown and get some much needed advice from the love guru while Pinkie is cooking. “Hey, Pinks? I’m gonna go for a walk, I’ll be back in a couple minutes.” “Kay!” Pinkie calls over her shoulder. “Don’t get kidnapped!” “I'll stay away from suspicious vans.” “What’s a vans?” “Don’t worry about it.” “Okie dokie lokie!” You close the door behind you and set off at a hurried pace. The pony gods decide to have mercy this time: you walk less than a block before spotting the distinct purple mane of your second favorite pony. You don’t question why she’s sitting on a random bench at the crack of dawn, mostly because you don’t care. “And that’s basically what’s going on,” you finish explaining. Despite being such a simple problem, it took longer than you thought to get it all out. “I know what I can do, but not what I should do. I mean, what if she laughs at me?” You let out a short sigh, waving your own words away. “No, you’re right. Pinkie wouldn’t do that, she’s too nice. But still, I have no idea how to handle this. What am I supposed to do?” Scootaloo shrugs with an annoyed expression on her face. “Dude, I’m twelve,” she says. “How am I supposed to know?” Goddammit. So much for that plan. You assumed she would have some sort of experience with relationships, given all the TV shows about kids having babies and getting married and what not. Then again, those were human shows. Maybe pony land is more pure than that. You hope so. “Anyway,” Scootaloo continues, “why didn’t you ask somepony like Rarity?” ...Shit, that’s a much better idea. “I already tried,” you lie. You can’t let her know the truth. She might think you’re stupid or something. “I couldn’t find her anywhere, so I went with the next best thing.” Scootaloo seems almost offended. “Wouldn’t Sweetie Belle be the next best thing? She likes all this girly emotional stuff about as much as Rarity.” “Your mom is girly,” you mutter. Scootaloo thankfully doesn’t hear you. You’d prefer not to permanently cripple a little girl with mere words. “I couldn’t find her either,” you say out loud. That’s almost believable, right? No Rarity, no mini-Rarity. “Then you should’ve gone to Apple Bloom,” Scootaloo says, rolling her eyes. “She’s a lot smarter than I am.” “Apple Bloom is...” You cringe at the thought of Grandma Something struggling to remember the name of her own grandkid. “She’s going through some stuff right now.” “What kind of stuff? Is it bad?” “Family stuff,” you say, patting the filly’s head. “Just don’t bring it up with her, okay? Forget I said anything.” Scootaloo crosses her forelegs and grumbles. “Fine.” Well, that was a big waste of time. You bid Scootaloo farewell and hurry back to your house. After discreetly checking through the window that Pinkie is still cooking (she is), you steal the better idea and go to Rarity’s. You open the door of the ugly building, a small bell ringing above you. “Just a minute~!“ Rarity sings from somewhere out of sight. You sit and wait on the weird half-sofa until she walks in, a tiny pair of glasses perched on the tip of her nose. She smiles when she sees you, removing her glasses and trotting over to plop her boutique on your lap. “Why hello there, Nonny-wonny,” she says, nuzzling your face. “This is a rather pleasant surprise.” You submit to the face rubbing, knowing resistance will only lead to more of it. “Please don’t call me that. It sounds weird.” “You let Pinkie Pie do it,” she frowns. “You’re not Pinkie.” “Neither are you, darling.” Damn, she’s good. “So what brings you to my humble abode today, hmm?” Rarity asks, fluttering her eyelashes. “I, uh...” This was much easier with Scootaloo. Spilling your guts the first time must have taken a lot out of you. “I wanted to talk to you about Pinkie, actually. And me too. I mean both of us, I guess.” Your voice trails off into a mumble near the end. “Oh?” Rarity’s expression lights up before twisting into that fucking smirk. “What a coincidence. I’ve been meaning to talk with you about her as well. You and Pinkie are rather close to one another. Much closer than normal friends, wouldn’t you say?” “Yeah, I guess so,” you shrug. Pinkie might as well be acting as your hospice nurse, minus the imminent death part. That sounds pretty close as far as friendship goes. “But I wanted to ask you-” Rarity cuts you off by huffing way louder and way fancier than necessary. “Pinkie Pie is your most intimate friend, is she not?” Wow, Rarity is awful at reading people. How has she not figured that out by now? “That’s a weird way of putting it, but yeah. And can you please give me a chance to-” Two hooves of pure generosity press against your cheeks, cutting you off yet again. “Anon, darling, doesn’t it seem like you two are a little... more than just friends?” “I fucking wish,” you say under your breath. Rarity gasps, releasing your cheeks. “Look, that’s actually why I’m-“ Rarity lets out a high-pitched scream, flapping her hooves like a teenage girl. She jumps from your lap and starts prancing back and forth across the room, talking at a mile a minute. You consider waiting for the mouth noises to stop, but then you remember: Rarity. As she passes in front of you, you reach out and gently grab her muzzle with both hands, forcing it closed. She gives you an affronted look, but you really don’t care. Rude or not, it got her to stop talking. When you’re reasonably sure she won’t keep jabbering, you slide your hands to her cheeks and squeeze them (sweet, squishy revenge), then kneel down to look her in the eye. “Rarity, I’m super cereal right now. Pinkie is the only friend I-” Rarity raises an eyebrow. “-almost the only friend I have. I don’t want to lose her if I mess something up.” Rarity’s expression drops into a deadpan stare. Not exactly the response you were going for. You try to boop her nose to see if her brain is still working, but she swats your hands away with magic. “Anonymous,” she says. “Hello.” “Did you hear a single thing I just said?” “Not a word. Why?” “...You’re lucky you’re cute,” she sighs. “Anon, you should just tell her how you feel. Trust me, you have nothing to worry about. In fact, I’m certain Pinkie feels the same way about you.” Your heart tries to do a backflip, but it misses the landing and falls into your stomach. “How can you be so sure?” you ask, refusing to get your hopes up. “I have eyes, darling.” You hold back a scoff. “So do I. I’m pretty sure I would have noticed something by now.” “Mhm.” What the hell is that supposed to mean? “Look, if it was that easy, I wouldn’t be asking you for help.” Rarity’s eyes light up. “Oh, you want me to help? You should have said something earlier!” This fucking horse. “I tried, but you kept-” “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure everything goes perfectly! Ooh, it’s going to be just like my-” “Wait,” you cut in, savoring the feeling. You also suddenly remembered the time. “I need to get back to my house soon. I told Pinkie I was going for a walk and that I’d only be gone a couple minutes.” Rarity seems momentarily put off, but her enthusiasm bounces back. “In that case, I shall drop by your house later today. You will begin by learning a number of ways to ‘test the water,’ so to speak, and then you can judge for yourself whether or not Pinkie is interested.” She flips her hair with a smug grin. “She’s far from subtle, but you seem to be having trouble with that anyway, so I’ll teach you what signals to look for when talking to a mare.” Huh. That sounds not entirely awful. It might even keep you from making a complete fool of yourself. However, the seed of doubt still remains. “But what if-” “Go home, Anon.” “Okay.”