//------------------------------// // Concentration // Story: Her Diamonds // by flyingcloudcakes //------------------------------// Chapter Six <><3<><3<><3 After that first time, helping Rarity in her dress shop became a weekly occurrence for Spike. Whenever he had any free time, he would walk over to Carousel Boutique with his headphones and his hoodie. Whether he was sewing the same dress over and over, or scouring the shelves for more silk ribbon, or even just making the coffee, he was there. (Twilight Sparkle was not available for comment, and, though she noted his comings and goings with growing unease – wondering if maybe she had been right, after all, to try to prevent this before it started – she didn’t stop him. He was grateful.) It was tedious work, being Rarity’s errand boy, but when he came through, he would be rewarded with a kind smile, or a ruffle of his hair, and, once – when she was really desperate to complete an order and she’d run out of dye, and he had to go all the way to Zecora for more – her arms thrown around his neck. And that would be enough to keep him showing up the next time, and the time after that. But the more time he spent in Rarity’s company, the more he got to thinking that, maybe, even if she didn’t smile at him that way every time, even if sometimes she forgot, he would still keep coming back, just because he maybe-possibly-sort-of-kind-of-seriously-really loved her. “Spike, darling, could you pass me that pattern? The one to your left, with the swirls on the bodice.” Spike found it (despite not knowing what the Discord a bodice was) and handed it over. He tried not to let his hand linger too long near hers when their fingers brushed accidentally. He didn’t want to stretch his boundaries. “Thank you.” Rarity smiled that smile at him (the one where the corners of her pink mouth curled up just so, and the teasing hint of white teeth, and her eyes shining, and him, melting a little). Then it was gone, and she was back to work, lost in her sketches and measurements, like always. Or so he thought, until he felt her eyes watching him across the room. He had his own little space, with his music turned down enough to hear when she needed something and a tiny corner of a free desk where he could do his own work (assigned by Twilight, his reading went slowly and his notes resembled a mad scientist’s equation-crammed scrawl). He looked up, surprised to find her eyes trained on him, and not her patterns. “What? Do I have something on my face?” He asked. Rarity pressed the end of her pen to her lips. (She would have bitten it, but Rarity didn’t bite pens, Spike had learned, because she thought it was unsavory. He didn’t tell her about the pencils he’d chewed all through his earlier school years.) “You would look good in a suit.” “What?” He blinked at her, shocked, putting down his own pen. “A suit?” He considered it for a moment. If Rarity thought it was a good idea, maybe he shouldn’t be so quick to reject it. Rarity was usually right. “You really think so?” “Mm-hm.” Rarity smiled at him, different this time, almost coy, sizing him up (her Idea smile). “Black jacket and pants, hm, maybe a green tie to bring out your eyes. They’re jade, very pretty color...” “Really?” He blushed. She likes my eyes! “What? Oh, yes, they are.” She was mostly talking to herself by now, staring off into the distance, no doubt planning his new outfit. “I’ll have to find some comfortable material for it, something that won’t wrinkle easily, because I assume you don’t own a trouser press...” “No, sorry.” Spike said, wondering what he would even do with a trouser press; he only wore jeans. Rarity shook her head, and flashed him a fond look that threw him a little. “Of course you don’t, darling.” “I can, um, do I need to buy one?” He asked, unsure, eager to please. Her eyes were still a little distant, like she wasn’t totally in the room with him, but she answered with a tinkling laugh. “No, no, no need for that. I’ll figure it out. I’ll need to take some measurements...” Measurements! Does that mean what I think it means? Spike tried not to think of her long, thin, graceful fingers tracing the collar of his shirt or (Celestia forbid; he wouldn’t be able to control himself) the shape of his waist. Rarity’s arms around him, Rarity’s hands all over him, Rarity’s... oh, Luna. He swallowed nervously. “M-measurements?” His voice came out as a squeak. “Of course.” She said, doing a double take, her mouth quirking into a smirk. “Why, dear, are you frightened of yellow tape?” Spike forced his voice to go back to normal. “N-no. Um. Measurements are fine.” “Lovely.” She glanced at her desk, where the clock (antique, silver, previously her mother’s, he'd obviously spent too much time here) showed it was getting late. “Next time, though, I’m afraid. You should be going.” “Right.” Spike mumbled, gathering his things. Rarity walked him to the front doors of the shop and saw him out. “Thank you for helping today. Again.” She smiled. (That smile!) “No problem.” He said, watching her lean against the doorframe and, as per usual, not wanting to leave. “Same time tomorrow?” “I’ll be here.” Rarity replied, raising an eyebrow, her long, manicured fingernails tapping out a rhythm against the wood. “I know.” Spike whispered, giving her a smile, so many words going unspoken as he turned away. You’ll be here. And so will I, Rarity. For you, I’ll always be here. He imagined her sitting in at her desk all night, charting out his suit with her glasses perched on her nose, Opalesence rubbing against her legs and her not even noticing, so wrapped up in her work, her only thought of the next project, the next fashion—how quintessentially Rarity that would be. He smiled, and his shoes kicked up dust. She’d never give one thought to me if it wasn’t my suit she was making, he thought sadly, but it was a bittersweet sort of sad, and that was okay. He'd let her have her fantasies, even if he didn’t need a suit. He liked making her happy. She sits down and stares into the distance And it takes all night And I know I could break her concentration But it don't feel right...