//------------------------------// // Invisible Cake // Story: Her Diamonds // by flyingcloudcakes //------------------------------// Chapter Two <><3<><3<><3 “I just, I really like her, this... this girl, but she doesn’t notice me. Twilight doesn’t seem to think I should be so hung up on her, but I can’t help it.” Spike flopped onto his back and let out a heavy sigh. “She just gets into my head.” He and Apple Bloom were on the floor of the Cutie Mark Crusader Clubhouse, which they were now much too big for. They had to hunch over just to sit comfortably. Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle were busy, so it was just the two of them and a pitcher of lemonade. Apple Bloom raised her eyebrows and pushed back her long ginger ponytail. She’d ditched the big pink bow in middle school, (Spike sort of missed it, though he’d never admit it) but she still wore faded blue overalls over a white blouse. “Look, Spike, yer mah friend, so I’m gonna be honest with ya. If this gal doesn’t realize what a great guy ya are, she ain’t worth it.” “She’s worth it!” Spike insisted, always ready to defend his crush. “She’s sweet, and generous, and smart, and she has... grace. She’s perfect! But I’m just... me. She’d never like me anyway. I don't know why I even bother!” Apple Bloom reached out and slapped him hard on the arm. Her hands were rough. “Ow!” He cried, rubbing the pink mark she’d left on his skin. “What’d you do that for?” His friend stared hard at him, her lips pursed and her eyebrows drawn together. He’d never noticed how orangey-brown her eyes were. Sort of like caramel. He wondered how he’d known her for years and never noticed that her eyes were the color of candy. After a long while, she shook her head at him, seeming to have come to some conclusion. “Yer an idiot.” She said firmly, swinging her long legs over the open side of the tree house and jumping to the ground. “Where’re you going?” Spike called after her. She didn’t stop, but instead called over her shoulder, “I said I’d help Big Mac with fixin’ our wagon. I was s’pposed be home ages ago.” Spike watched her walk away. They’d been up in the clubhouse for over two hours, and she hadn’t once said anything about a prior engagement. He wondered if she was making it up. What had he said to offend her? He had no idea. He shrugged and climbed out of the clubhouse. It was no fun sitting up here by himself, but he didn’t want to go home to Twilight when she was being such an unreasonable jerk about this whole thing. None of the other Crusaders were free today (and now it turns out Apple Bloom hadn’t been, either), so he couldn’t go see any of them. He wondered what Pinkie Pie was doing down at Sugarcube Corner. He felt like he hadn’t seen her in a very long time, and she was sure to lift his mood. Maybe he could help her bake a pie or something. Or, maybe, if he was lucky, she was throwing a party! Excited by this new prospect, Spike walked through town to Sugarcube Corner. The ‘Open’ sign was on the door, so he went right in. Mrs. Cake, a short, plump lady with a mass of curling hair pinned back onto her head, greeted him with a smile at the front counter. “Why, hello, Spike. What brings you here today?” “Uh, is Pinkie here?” He asked, pushing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “I was wondering if I could help her with anything.” “Oh, that’s mighty sweet of you. She’s just in the kitchen. She’s doing a very special order today. Why don’t you go on back? I’m sure she’d appreciate the offer.” “Okay, thanks, Mrs. Cake.” Spike gave her a small wave and went through the door marked ‘Staff’ into the kitchen. Pinkie Pie was hunched over something on the counter, her wild, bright pink curls pushed back into a messy ponytail and barely being held in place by a hairnet. She seemed to be icing something. Spike couldn’t see the design, but he was sure it would be magnificent. “Hi, Pinkie!” He chirped. She looked up, and when she saw him, her face lit up into a huge smile. “Hiya, Spike! I didn’t know you were coming over here! It’s so, so, so, sooooo good to see you!” She exclaimed in her usual loud, happy voice. He smiled back and looked around the kitchen. Flour and eggshells covered every available surface, and even some of the floor. Baking utensils and mixing bowls lay scattered everywhere, all used. It looked like one hell of a mess, but no matter where he looked, he didn’t see the giant cake he was expecting to. “What are you making, Pinkie?” He asked, puzzled. “This place is a wreck, but where’s the order?” Pinkie beamed and bounded up to him. “That’s it, you see! Or, actually, you don’t see!” She giggled. Spike didn’t understand. “I’ve been working hard, hard, hard alllll morning long to make this very special order, ordered special! And there’s a secret to this cake!!” The pink-haired girl was practically shaking with excitement. “It’s invisible!!!” She yelled, spinning him around and jumping up and down. “What?” He asked, astonished. An invisible cake! “Really?” “Heehee, no, silly!” Pinkie giggled, releasing him from their incessant spinning. “Gotcha! It’s just so big I had to put it around back.” “Oh,” said Spike, disappointed. An invisible cake would have been so cool. “Aw, don’t worry, Spikey, it’s still the biggest, prettiest, coolest, bestest, most awesomest fantastic sugary cake creation you’ll ever see in the whole wide world! In the whole universe, even!” Pinkie grinned. “Lemme show you!” She dragged him over to the back door by the sleeve of his hoodie and pushed it open. There, in the yard, was a towering cake covered in lilac frosting and tiny pink flowers, with tier after tier of beautiful, sugary delight. Spike’s mouth watered at the sight. “Ain’t she a beauty?” Pinkie asked, pleased. “Oh, yeah. Wow. You’ve really outdone yourself this time, Pinkie! Hey, who’s this for, anyway?” “Oh, some fancy Canterlot elite ordered it for a party. And you know how I love, love, love parties!” She shooed away a squirrel from one side of the cake. “A Canterlot party?” Spike murmured, awed. He wondered if it would be like his dream, with violins and champagne in tiny glasses and twinkling lights in the garden... He wondered if Rarity was making dresses for any of the guests. “Yes, Sir E Bob! I’m transporting it there tomorrow. Only I can be trusted to get such a big order to Canterlot!” Pinkie said proudly, puffing out her chest and marching back inside the bakery like a solider. After a moment, she peeked her head out again and said, “I never asked why you were here, Spike! I’m so silly, that’s me, Silly Will! Oh wait, my name is Pinkie Pie, oops!” Spike laughed. “I came over to see if you needed any help.” “OH!” She exclaimed. “That’s so, so, sooo nice of you, Spike, but Mr. Cake ‘specifically said I had to do this order alone.” Her face darkened, and she adopted a low, dramatic tone of voice. “Like the lone ranger out on the prairies, like a superhero fighting crime, like a hero going on an epic journey to find herself, I must do this on my own...” She grinned at him, and was back to her bubbly, cheerful self. “I’m sorry! Thanks anyway, though!” “Oh,” said Spike, trying not to show how crestfallen he was. “Okay. That’s fine. Have... fun, I guess. Bye.” He waved and she shut the door behind her, going back to her cake. He loitered around on the sidewalk for a moment, kicking up a few pebbles with the toe of his shoe. He supposed he would have to go home now. There wasn’t much else he could do. Unless... He knew it was against Twilight’s orders, but... Well, screw her. She was kind of being a bitch. He started walking. Soon, he was in front of Rarity’s dressmaking shop. The purple doors were open, inviting him inside like old friends. He looked around furtively, hoping no one would see him, and then realized what he was doing and stopped. There wasn’t anything wrong with visiting Rarity. She was his friend, too, wasn’t she? Suddenly defensive, he walked into the shop. It was quiet. Toooo quiet... Spike thought, smiling to himself at the cliché. “Rarity?” He called, peering around. Examples of Rarity’s previous fashion orders were lined up on the walls. The fashionista herself modeled each outfit with perfect style and grace: a sharp, business-like blue pencil skirt paired with a ruffled white shirt in one picture; a stunning golden evening gown in another; and the last, his favorite by far, a zebra-striped bikini and big, black sunglasses. “I’ll be with you in just a moment.” Rarity’s voice called out from somewhere in the back. “Feel free to pour yourself a drink.” A drink? In answer to his question, Spike spotted a table set up with coffee and tea in the corner. He thought that was a bit impractical. What if a costumer spilt their beverage on one of her designs? But then again, it most likely wouldn’t be a problem. Rarity was always prepared for everything. “Oh, Spike, hello!” Rarity exclaimed, coming out from the back room. She smoothed her hands on her bright pink skirt, which – Spike noted with glee and trepidation – was quite short. “Is Twilight with you?” “Um, no, just me.” He said, suddenly nervous. “Is that alright?” “Well, of course it is!” Rarity laughed. Her laugh was beautiful: clear and light and friendly, but with a touch of something affected and proud, like she knew just how stunning everything about her was. “Is something the matter, dear? You seem a bit jittery.” “Nope, no, not me, everything’s... fine.” He cleared his throat, cursing himself for sounding so stupid. He always seemed to do that around her. He must look like a fool. “Alright, then.” She said, smiling at him brightly. “So what brings you to ma maison de couture on this fine morning?” “Your what?” Spike asked, scrunching up his nose in confusion. Rarity laughed again. “My shop, Spike.” “Ooooh, gotcha.” He smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. Uh, I was just, you know, around, so I thought I’d drop by, and just, like, say hi. So... hi.” He gave a small wave and cringed internally at his pathetic-ness. “Hi.” Rarity said, looking nonplussed and slightly amused at him. “Anything else?” “No, I think that’s it.” Spike said, but still he lingered, twisting and untwisting the hem of his purple hoodie in his fingers. He didn’t want to leave yet. He’d only just gotten here! Rarity looked at him for a moment, as though waiting for something more, but Spike said nothing, so she asked, “I know it’s a bit late, but... would you like to stay for lunch?” “Yes!” Spike said immediately, relieved. “Yes. Lunch would be nice. I’d like that.” “Wonderful.” Rarity nodded and went to the front, her heels clicking softly on the tile. She turned the sign in the window to ‘Closed,’ and shut the double doors. She spun on her heel, pinning him with a bright smile. “Tea?”