//------------------------------// // In Too Deep // Story: Her Diamonds // by flyingcloudcakes //------------------------------// Chapter Ten <><3<><3<><3 “You love me? You— I love you, too! I mean, I know I said that already, earlier, in your office— Well, I’m rambling now, but, buck, I love you so much Rarity...” ...is what he meant to say. Really, honestly, he wanted to say it, of course he did, it was Rarity. But he didn’t. He’d wished, prayed, hoped against hope that his only love, his long-time crush, the girl of his dreams, Rarity, would one day tell him that she felt the same way, that her lips would form the three little words he’d so been longing to hear. And they had. But it wasn’t real, and he knew it. She was drunk; very, very drunk, and when she woke up the next morning (in her own bed, because, really, come on, he was a gentleman, and he would get her home in one piece if it killed him, which it might) with a massive hangover, she would regret ever telling him that. “Rarity, you’re smashed.” He sighed. “You’re not thinking straight.” “Of course I’m smashed!” Rarity sobbed. “Why do you think I’m here? I’m trying to forget you, and your stupid, gorgeous face, and your stupid, sweet smile, and your... damn it, I really want to kiss you again.” She moved forward and fell over onto the floor. “Rarity!” Spike yelled. He helped her get up, taking one of her arms over his shoulder. (Admittedly he was holding up most of her weight, but at least she was vertical, right?) “I think it’s time to go home.” “I want... ‘nother drink.” She slurred, stumbling into him. "I can still see— 'm not drunk enough yet." “You’ve had enough,” Spike said firmly, pushing open the door of the bar. Cold air hit them, and he breathed deeply, trying to clear his head. He turned to her, and his face softened immediately. (How could he stay mad at such a pitiful sight? Not to mention one he was at least partially responsible for...) He put a hand on her shoulder, steadying her. “Rare, I’m going to call Twilight, okay? Just give me a second.” “Twilight! What is it, do you like her more than me?” Rarity was still crying. Spike sighed, not bothering to correct her, and pulled out his cell phone. “Yeah, hi, Twilight? I found Rarity.” He held the phone away from his ear as Twilight let out a string of high-pitched exclamations. “I know, I know, she was down at Berry’s Punch. She’s drunk. We have to get her home.” He could practically see Twilight nodding on the other end of the phone. “Okay, Sweetie Belle went to spend the night at Applejack’s, so the house should be empty. Rarity has keys... unless she lost them.” Spike glanced at Rarity. She was falling asleep against a nearby lamppost. “It’s possible. Look, I’m only a few blocks away. I’ll take her there, make sure she gets in okay.” “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Spike... Maybe I should come with—“ “I’ll handle it, okay?” Spike growled. “I know why you really want to come, and don’t worry, I’ll be a perfect gentleman. Thanks for trusting me, though.” He spat, and hung up the phone. Spike turned back to Rarity (who was awake again). She looked at him with wide, distrusting eyes, her fingers curled tightly around a purse he hadn’t noticed she had. Her dress was wrinkled, her hair messy, her make-up smeared. She looked like the girl in a romantic comedy that had just gotten her heart ripped out by the wrong guy. (Spike, in this case, being that guy, resented ever having thought this in the first place.) “I’m going to get you home now, okay?” He said gently, as thought talking to a child, reaching out for her hand. She jerked her arm away from him. “No!” She said loudly, her voice unsteady. “No, we’re not going home yet. We’re going to do this now. Spike, I never should have kissed you.” Spike rubbed his eyes, suddenly very fed up with this entire situation. “I know, I know, we’ve already had this conversation!” “No, you don’t understand.” Rarity took a shaky breath. “It was wrong of me to force myself on you, and I’m sorry. But I kept my feelings inside for so long, when you started helping me in my shop, I, I just... And—and then you told me you loved me.” She started to cry again, sobbing her next words. “I was s-so ha-a-ppy! All I wanted... was y-you.” Spike wanted to cry with her. This wasn’t what he signed up for (but, then, love never is, is it?). He’d thought by keeping his distance for a while, he’d forget about her, like Twilight had hoped. Then he’d started helping her, and he’d gotten to spend more time with her, and that was wonderful, because it was Rarity. Then she’d kissed him, and that was even better, because it meant she might actually love him back. But now here she was, standing in front of him, pouring out her heart, and the only thing he could think of was that none of it was true. She was just drunk off her arse. She probably didn’t even remember her own name. “I’m taking you home.” He whispered, defeated. He didn’t want to hear any more of this. His heart was already breaking. This time, when he reached for her hand, Rarity didn’t protest. <><3<><3<><3 Spike clicked on the light in Rarity’s bedroom and was visually assaulted by purple once again. It was almost comforting at this point: how some things, at least, never changed. He helped Rarity over to her bed (she’d been unusually quiet since her outburst outside the bar, and the sounds she did make were undecipherable). It hadn’t been easy getting her up the stairs (she’d fallen several times), but everything else was a piece of Pinkie’s invisible cake compared to that. “Okay, Rarity, time for bed.” He said, setting her down gently on top of the (purple) duvet. “Shms.” She mumbled into her pillow. It took a moment to translate: “Shoes.” Spike smiled. Even falling asleep and totally smashed, Rarity was as sensible and detail-oriented as ever. He eased off her black heels and set them on the floor beside the bed. He glanced back at for a moment. Her eyes were closing, tear drops caught in her long eyelashes, her hair spread out around her head like a purple halo. “G’night, Rarity.” He murmured, leaning in to kiss her on the forehead. As he turned to go, she grabbed his wrist. “Stay with me?” She pleaded, her lips forming an adorable pout. Spike imagined staying, of laying beside Rarity as she drifted into alcohol-induced dreams, of watching over her until he fell asleep, himself. It was tempting. But then he thought further—of how, when Rarity woke up, she’d be surprised (and possibly disturbed) to find him next to her. In the morning, she’d regret every word she’d said to him tonight, and he didn’t really want to be there when that happened. He didn’t want to see the look of shame in her eyes as she awkwardly offered him coffee, wishing he would just leave her alone. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” Spike closed the door behind him.