Knock knock knock
The bat pony mare fidgeted in her armor, taking a look around while she waited. The humble street was nondescript, mirroring nearly every road in the neighborhood. Cookie cutter buildings, identical lawns and layouts, and a complete and total lack of anything even remotely resembling creativity, or anything beyond basic functionality for that matter. There were no truer signals for military living quarters she could think of.
After nearly thirty seconds of silence, the mare looked up at the huge earth pony next to her, also bedecked in Royal Guard armor. He returned her befuddled gaze with one of his own. Turning back to the door, she cleared her throat. “Staff Sergeant Tweak?” she called out, giving the door several more firm knocks. “Are you currently home? This is Sergeant Midnight Dasher and Private Cupcake of the Royal M-P’s. We’re here—”
A clanging sound came from beyond the door, distant at first, but quickly growing louder, as if somepony was clearing wreckage out of the way. “Uh,” Midnight said, “w-we’re responding to several noise complaints from your neighbors. They reported a lot of shouting and things breaking, like somepony was having a—” the door exploded open, revealing a haggard earth pony—“fight.”
Instantly, alarm bells went off in the mare’s head. The staff sergeant was an utter mess. His mane was plastered to his skull by sweat. His body was marred by several angry bruises and a few abrasions that just didn’t quite bleed. Most notably, however, were the fat bottom lip and a slowly swelling right eye. However, for all his obvious physical injuries, the tan pony looked at them very nonplussed, bordering on annoyed. “What do you want, law dog?”
Blinking hard, Midnight drew up on herself. “Like we said, sergeant, your neighbors called us after a lot of loud and troubling noises. Apparently, they have been happening for the past few days.” She leaned slightly to the side and peeked at the apartment. She had seen the aftermath of battles that were cleaner than the interior. Nearly every item that wasn’t nailed down was on the floor, and what could be broken was. The pieces of meager furniture were scattered across the living room at random. Her heart jumped a beat when she noted several dents and two outright holes in the drywall. Having been a military police officer for several years, she knew these signs. She looked back to the bedraggled Tweak. “Sergeant, is everything... alright?”
Tweak arched an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
Midnight took a deep breath. She knew that stallions often had a hard time admitting it and asking for help when this sort of thing happened to them, so she ignored the urge to reach out for him or show anything that he might interpret as pity. “What I mean is... are you safe?”
Before Tweak could respond, a shrill voice boomed from deeper inside the apartment. “Hey, limp dick! Get your ass back in here!”
Tweak looked back over his shoulder at whomever was shrieking. “I’m coming, ya fat cow!”
“Yeah?! Well I’m not, and that’s a ‘you’ problem!”
“Calm your crotch tits, woman!”
“Then get back here and make me, ya two-pump chump!”
A deep shudder ran through Tweak as he turned back to face Midnight, a goofy grin on his lovestruck face. “Dear Celestia, I love that filly.” He then promptly slammed the door in her face.
Silence once more reigned on the porch. “So,” Cupcake said, “Case closed! Doughnuts?”
Midnight grunted, pinching the bridge of her nose as she swore she heard a piece of her very soul dying in agony. “Two years and out, two years and out...”
“Hey, Flash,” Twilight said, looking over her shoulder. “Come check out this one!”
Flash Sentry turned and walked to the opposite side of the “aisle” they were on. The outdoor marketplace was structured like an actual library, with long rows of tables bearing all sorts of old or forgotten tomes. Even despite the open air, the smell of old parchment and slightly moldy paper was noticeable in the air. Still, the moment they had arrived at the Hoofston Open Air Book Fair, he knew he’d made the right choice for their date. “Kid in a candy store” didn’t nearly describe the almost manic look in Twilight’s eyes when she saw the seemingly endless rows of books as their chariot had begun its descent.
He made his way to where she stood, admiring a heavily worn book adorned with faded text in a language completely forgein to his untrained eye. “What did you find?”
“Oh, nothing,” she said, though her ear-to-ear grin betrayed her feelings. “Just a first edition reprint of Clover the Clever’s Treatises on Earth Pony Magic!” She looked back to the ancient book with what looked like actual twinkling stars in her eyes. “This was the first major thaumatalogical collaboration between the tribes post-Unification! It laid the foundation for all inter-tribal thaumatic studies to follow! It’s one of the most important books in history!”
Despite not having an earthly clue as to what Twilight was talking about, Flash couldn’t help a flutter in his chest at her earnest enthusiasm. It honestly reminded him of the time his little brother went to his first school book fair and discovered the old Hoofbumps books that Flash had read as a kid. “Wow, that sounds like quite the find!”
“It is!” she squealed. “Oh, Flash, I can’t believe you chose this place for our date! With all the insanity surrounding the auction, I had completely forgotten this was going on this weekend!”
“Yeah, well,” Flash said, cheeks flaming, “I-I knew I wanted to go somewhere that would play into your legendary love of books.” He chuckled at the slight pout she gave him. “Though I felt that no matter how much you love to read, a library isn’t exactly a ‘happening’ place for a date.”
“Hmm, I don’t know,” she said. “Whenever the Canterlot Grand Archives would get new shipments of reference guides, it got pretty hectic. A few times, we even hit thirty-five decibels!”
“Hehehe, wow,” Flash said. “Sounds like quite the swinging party there, Prince—” he chuckled, shaking his head and lifting a hoof— “I mean, Twilight.”
She laughed. “We’ll break you of that habit eventually, Corporal.” She winked. He blushed.
“Eventually? Why Princess Twilight, y-you make it sound like... well, like this may not be a one time engagement.”
For several moments, she looked him over, her face positively glowing from heat. “I, uh... I haven’t decided yet.” She then blinked, quirking her eyebrows. “Um, did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“I don’t know. It sounded like a... a growl?” They both scanned the area around them. Despite the surprisingly large turnout for such a niche event, they found themselves relatively isolated from any groups or crowds. In fact, there was no one on their aisle as far as Flash could see. Twilight shook her head. “Must have been my imagination.”
Flash shrugged and stepped to take a closer look at the book. This brought him shoulder to shoulder with her, and he swore he felt an electric tingle as their fur rubbed together and she did not pull away. Clearing his throat, he leaned in and took in the ancient tome. More specifically, the price tag. He let out a low whistle. “Okay, I know chivalry dictates that I buy this for you, but that price seems more ‘Royal Stipend’ than ‘Corporal’s paycheck’.”
Twilight let out a very undignified giggle-snort—Sweet Celestia, she even laughs adorkably—and picked up the book with her magic, gently placing it in her saddlebag. “Don’t worry about it, Flash. I’m more than happy to use my own money to feed my... legendary love of books,” she said with a slight waggle of her eyebrows.
“Heh, fair enough.” The pair began walking further down the aisle. After two hours of browsing, Twilight’s saddlebags were nearly bulging with new purchases. He, on the other hoof, had only picked up three books: a collection of Iron Mareden guitar tablatures, the latest book in the Agent Bentgrass series from Douglas Hayton and Lincoln Foal, and a worn copy of A Higher Call by Adam Haykos.
As they walked, Flash daringly allowed himself to meander closer to her side. When their shoulders made contact, she again made no move to separate. “Though, I would assume you already know most of the stuff in that book. Heh, not trying to stroke your ego or anything, but you are famously a genius.”
Twilight blushed fiercely and giggled. “W-well yes, all the findings in the book are taught in high school-level thaumaturgy classes, but it’s less about the learning and more about the experience. Actually holding a piece of history. Granted, this reprint was made centuries after Clover had passed, but the things he learned were so instrumental in most magical studies that followed that even owning a reprint feels like touching history itself, you know?”
“I’ll take your word for it,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with a wing. “I’m, uh, more a fiction kind of pony, with some military history mixed in.” He sputtered a bit when she arched her eyebrow and shot him a somewhat accusatory smirk. “B-but I have been looking for an excuse to expand my horizons!” His next words were a risk, he knew, but judging by the playful glint in her eyes, it was a calculated one. “And I, uh... I think I may have found it.”
After another round of blushing, Twilight opened her mouth, but only let out a quiet yelp as a clattering sound came from behind them. They both whirled around, and saw that an entire row of books from a nearby table had fallen to the ground, though there wasn’t another pony within a dozen meters of them.
Flash spoke up. “Okay, even I heard that one.” His eyes and ears scanned the surrounding area, Guard training kicking in as he tried to identify the potential threat to his Princess. “I didn’t feel any wind or anything. Did you—” Hoofsteps from behind them. Both ponies spun around, and gasped.
Princess Cadance slowly approached them, steps careful and even, and a serene smile plastered on her face. A very serene smile, one Flash was quite familiar with. Having worked around the Crystal Princess for a few years, he could easily spot her “political smile,” the one she wore around bloviating dignitaries she wanted nothing more than to kick out of the throne room minus a few teeth.
Twilight was the first to find her voice. “Cadance!” Admittedly, it was a very strained voice. “What... are you doing here? W-while I’m on my... date.” She gave a very forcible nod towards Flash, who was still trying to decide if he should be annoyed or bowing.
Cadance let out a melodious giggle, one so dangerous that it made Flash’s hackles raise in a mix of fear and nerves. “Oh, Twilight, you can relax. I’m not here to meddle or play matchmaker or anything like that. Heh, not that you two seem to need it,” she said in a much more relaxed tone.
“Well, then why are you here, Your Highness?” Flash said through a blush.
Once more, that tight, “I-am-going-to-commit-violence-in-approximately-three-seconds” smile graced her features. “I truly am sorry for interrupting, but there’s just one little thing I need to... handle.” Her horn glowed, and a tiny bolt of magical energy lanced between them.
“Eeyouch!”
Both Flash and Twilight whirled around at the pained cry... to see Shining Armor shimmer into existence about five feet behind them. He was frantically rubbing at a little scorch mark on his shoulder, but upon seeing his now quite visible hoof, his head jerked upwards, eyes wide.
“Shiny?!”
“Captain?!”
After the barest second of shocked hesitation, Shining Armor plasted his version of a “political smile” on his face... though his was much less convincing than Cadance’s. There was a reason why she was the Empire’s face and he was just the muscle. “Uh... h-hey, Twily! I-I was just, uh...” His words died as a shadow loomed over him.
Princess Cadance had stepped forward, slowly marching in between Flash and Twilight. Though the muscular stallion was ever-so-slightly taller than his wife, the pure malice radiating off of her made him seem like a colt in comparison. She still smiled, though there was now a razor’s edge in her eyes, a near-deadly intent that could have peeled paint from a wall and curdled milk. “Shiny... sweetheart?” Much like her eyes, her tone was so sharp that Flash could have shaved with it. She now stood before the cowed captain, who seemed to be writing his last will and testament in his head as his beloved wife glared into his very soul. “Let’s go home.”
Flash was honestly impressed that all Shining Armor did was gulp and quiver. A lesser trained stallion would have either wet himself or fainted. “Uh... y-y-yes, dear,” he squeaked. He gazed into her blazing eyes for several long seconds before shaking his head and casting a much better “political smile” at his sister. “Y-you guys have fun!” His eyes then flicked to Flash, and a smouldering scowl began to take shape on his face. “But not too much ow-ow-ow-ow-ow!” He squealed in pain as Cadance’s magic yanked on his ear and dragged him away, most likely to the Royal Couch for a few nights.
As the pair walked/was dragged away, Twilight turned back to Flash. The look she gave him may one day become a “political smile.” For now, it just shouted of awkwardness. “Uh... A-ha-ha-ha-ha!” She waved her foreleg through the air several times, a sort of “aw, shucks” gesture as her eyes screamed of embarrassment. “I... am so sorry! This is probably the most embarrassing thing to happen to me since grade school!”
Flash let out an easy chuckle, lifting a hoof to place on her shoulder. In the back of his mind, he squee’d at how natural the contact now felt. “It’s okay Twilight, really. In all honesty, I... kind of expected something like this. I mean, I am dating my captain’s little sister.”
After a moment, Twilight once more giggled that adorkable giggle that made his heart skip a beat every time, though very quickly, her face began to heat once more. “O-oh, dating. Not ‘on a date,’ but we’re actually dating now, are we?” Though her face burned, her eyes were much more confident than they had been before she regarded him. “Why Corporal Sentry, y-you speak as if this may not be a one time engagement.”
As she blushed, Flash looked at her—her glowing face, fiercely intelligent eyes, and playful smirk—and felt himself emboldened enough to step towards her and take her hoof in his and look into those sparkling lavender eyes. “Well, I, uh... I-I haven’t decided yet.”
Luck wasn’t really a thing one could quantify, but had there been some kind of empirical standard by which it could be measured, Time Turner was sure he would be burying the needle. Here he stood in his rather spacious living room, surrounded by the many time pieces he had collected and restored over the years—though most were turned off so as to not drown the house in endless ticking, even if he found it somewhat soothing—showing off his passion and life’s work to the exceedingly beautiful mare that had won him in the recent auction. Why one as gorgeous as her would pay good bits for a date with him was a mystery, but never look a gift mule in the mouth and all that.
“Now this,” he said as he approached the crown jewel of his collection, “is my most prized possession. An authentic Flank Ketterer cuckoo clock! If it seems a bit simple, that’s because it was one of the first ever made!” He lovingly ran his hoof along the pendulums and counterweights hanging from the bottom. “It’s over three-hundred years old!”
“Oh, really?” came the somewhat mumbled reply.
“Yes!” he all but squeaked. “Restored it myself! I found it in a flea market down in Brumbyshire, can you believe that?! The poor dear had no idea what she had. I almost felt bad taking it from her at such a low cost, but when opportunity arises, one must—”
“Um, Mister Turner?”
He blinked, then blushed furiously, silently cursing himself. He turned back around to see Derpy standing in the middle of the workshop, her drifting eyes scanning the culmination of his life’s work with a look he sadly knew all too well.
Taking a moment to collect himself, he smiled. “Uh, just Time is fine. Heh, I guess I have been going on, haven’t I? Sorry. When I’m nervous I tend to get a bit... rambly,” he said, rubbing a hoof across the back of his neck.
Her eyes fell back on him, though the left one almost immediately began to drift. “Oh, it’s fine. I just wanted to make sure of something. Your introduction at the auction said you were a scientist? And that you had a PhD?”
“Indeed!” he chirped, hopes and mood lifted by her question. Maybe she was still interested after all. “PhD in Thaumatic Field Theory, graduated Summa Cum Laude from Hocksford University. Even got a BS in Mechanical Engineering while I was at it!”
“And... now you make clocks?”
“Heh, yes. It is quite odd the paths life leads us down. I spent all of two years at a research lab in Trottingham before I accepted that it wasn’t for me. Too much stress, not enough tangible results of my hard work, you see.” Time shuddered at the mere memory of his nightmarish stint in academia. “In the end, I decided to up and quit. Mucked around for a bit, but eventually fell back to my beloved hobby. From studying time to telling time, as it were,” he said with a grin.
For just a few moments, he thought that maybe there was hope for him and Derpy as she spun in a slow circle, scanning his life’s work. However, once she faced back to him, the simple look of disinterest in her odd eyes told him otherwise. “Now, one more question, and please don’t take this the wrong way, but... all you do is make clocks?”
A great deal of wind was knocked out of his sails. He also knew that tone of voice. It was one he had heard from a few mares in his day, though Derpy’s wasn’t laden with disdain, but more... disappointment? He was losing her, but also a slight rush of irritation flowed through him. “Yes. Well, and restore them, of course. I like to think it’s a rather noble profession. S-Sure, it may not be as flashy as being in the Royal Guard or some place in higher education, but I think it can be argued that now more than ever, we plan our very lives around the clock! In fact, I think that you... y-you...” Upon really taking in the look in her eyes—well, the one that was looking at him, anyway—Time let out a heavy breath, his shoulders slumping and gaze falling to the ground. “You’re... not interested anymore.”
“Oh, no, no!” Derpy said, though very quickly she sighed. “Well, no. I mean yes, no. Or, no which... ugh.” She ran a hoof through her messy mane, then looked at him, this time with both eyes, at least for a few moments. “No, I’m not interested, but I swear it’s not anything you did! It’s me!”
“Yes,” he sighed, “I heard that one before.”
“I’m serious!” After a moment, Time felt her approach, and then felt her hoof gently lift his face to see hers, and the genuinely regretful smile she wore. “Look, when I saw you up on that stage, you... reminded me of somepony. Somepony I met a long time ago, and because of that I unfairly assumed things about you.”
Despite his soured mood, his curiosity had been piqued. “How so?”
“Well, because of that other guy, I had thought you would have been a bit more—” Her eyes scanned the ceiling, naturally in opposite directions, as she searched for the word— “boisterous, and... and lively! The kind of pony who lived his life at a mile a minute, and was always on the go, looking for something new and exciting.” She turned her head away and mumbled, “The kind of pony who would take me on a whirlwind adventure through time and space like he said he would after ‘a quick five minute jaunt around the moon and back,’ only to never return.”
“I-I’m sorry, what was that last bit?”
“Oh! Uh...” Derpy gingerly rubbed her hoof across the back of her neck. “Heh, n-never mind. The point, Time, is that you’re not the kind of pony I was looking for. Not because you are somehow uninteresting or inferior, I swear! But because I wasn't really looking for a stallion, but one specific stallion.” She gently placed a hoof on his shoulder. “I hope you understand.”
As Time Turner mulled over her words, he desperately wanted to be depressed or offended. However, the sheer sincerity in her voice—not to mention the genuine regret in her wonky eyes—prevented him from really getting upset. Instead, he sighed, and gave her a sad smile. “It’s alright, I suppose. I mean, heh, at least you were up front about it. Better to cut it off now than waste both our time with something you know isn’t going to work, right?”
“Yeah,” she said. A few long, awkward moments of silence followed. Apparently, she was just as lost and confused as he was after all. Finally, she smiled at him. “Well, I supposed I should be going. Listen, Mister... Time, I’m being honest when I say that you are a very interesting stallion. And pretty handsome to boot!” She giggled, probably at the slight blush he feelt work across his face. “I have no doubt that someday very soon you are going to find the perfect mate for you.”
“Ah, I’m sure I will,” Time said, mustering up a bemused smile. “I mean, I live my life surrounded by clocks,” he said, gesturing to the multitude of clocks lining the walls. “I’ve got all the time in the world!”
The two giggled, a genuine and shared moment of levity breaking the tension that had filled his living room. Once they had finally calmed down, Derpy looked at him and held out a hoof, a genuinely friendly gaze in her wandering eyes. “No hard feelings?”
It only took Time a few seconds to return her look and bump the proffered hoof. “No. No hard feelings. Oh, and this stallion you’re looking for? I, uh... I-I hope you find him someday.”
Derpy giggled. “Honestly? I’m pretty sure he’ll find me eventually. See you around town, Mister Turner.”
“It would be a pleasure any day, Miss Hooves,” he said with a slight bow as she walked out of the room.
By the time he heard the front door gently shut, Time had already returned to his workbench. The various innards of a Tinker Tenor Model G-4 grandfather clock lay across the surface, a cleaning and tuning job from a client in Canterlot. He sighed as he reached for his loupe, a soft breeze tickling the back of his neck. He was disappointed, of course. Miss Hooves was exceptionally beautiful, in her own unique kind of way. While her... odd rejection stung, in the end it had cost him nothing. His ear flicked at the growing gust of air behind him. Mares may be one of life’s great mysteries, but he always found solace in the regularity and reliability of a good time piece. Even as the wind picked up, he...
Wait...
Wind? In his living room?
As if on cue with his realization, a distant whooshing sound came from seemingly nowhere yet from all around him, growing louder and louder. Time had to squint against the inexplicable wing as he spun around, the sour, somewhat acrid taste of magic on the back of his tongue. A dark... something began to take shape before him, seemingly out of nowhere. He stumbled backwards as the thing, now obviously a bright blue box of some kind, slowly grew in opacity until he could no longer see the other side of his living room. Then, with a final whoosh, and the ringing of some kind of cloister bell, the impossible wind petered out.
Now able to open his eyes, Time gently slapped himself across the cheek to confirm if he was dreaming or not. A large blue box, maybe one-point-five meters across on all sides, dominated his living room, the light bulb on top just a hair beneath his ceiling. The words, Police - Public Call Box adorned the one door he could see. After a few eternal seconds, Time took one ginger step forward, only to leap back as the door of the box swung open, and a very familiar looking brown stallion stumbled out, along with a large plume of white smoke.
“Ah, there we are!” The impossible stallion said, having spun back around to look at his box, his spiky brown mane falling across the back of his neck. “Terribly sorry about that, Derpy! The engines went out of phase a lot more than I thought. I managed to spin right through a nest of Tylurian nova mites before I was able to get the old girl back in sync with the time vortex. Had to skim past two supermassive black holes to scrape off the little buggers. Did quite a number on the paint job, but ah!” He slapped the side of the box with a hoof. “Tardis can fix that in a jiff. Now I am... I...” The stallion finally seemed to note his surroundings, slowly spinning around and gazing at the ceiling. “I am... indoors for some reason. Maybe the targeting circuits are—”
The stallion finally turned around, and his blue eyes locked with Time’s blue eyes. He was sure that no matter how much confusion he could see in this strange pony’s eyes, it was dwarfed by what he was feeling. “W-What?” Time squeaked.
“What?” the stallion said, taking a single step to his left.
“W..w-wha...” Time mumbled, taking his own step to the right.
“What?!” he cried, taking a large step backwards.
Time gulped and did the same. “What... w-who are—”
“Wait,” the stallion said, eyes narrowing. He took a hesitant step forward, which Time for some reason he felt compelled to do in turn. “You’re not...” As the two came almost face to face, the inexplicable copy of Time Turner gasped loudly, his eyes going wide. “Oh, you are! Oh, I am very good!” He let out a loud whoop and raced back to his blue box, smacking a rear hoof along the side. “I knew it! This template had to come from somewhere! You don’t just fall through a crack in the universe and blammo get a new body created for you! There must have been some sort of latent psychic connection between the two of us, opposite sides of the same string! Then when I ended up here, my body had to conform with the law of the land, so my time stream just sort of filled in the gaps. I haven’t had time to really look into it too much yet. See I was being chased by a Judoon light cruiser about a relative week ago, and for no good reason! The Princess of Arabaxia Prime Seven asked me to nick that hard drive containing the access codes to their entire nth metal arsenal! Well... implied it, anyway. Well, inferred. Hinted. But it was a very heavy handed hint, so you can see...”
The stallion seemed to finally remember that he was actually talking to somepony. “Oh, terribly sorry! Where are my manners?” He approached and held out a hoof. “I’m the Doctor.”
“Uh,” Time Turner let his gaze fall to the proffered hoof for only a second, fearful that if he took his eyes off this stallion, he may vanish. “Doctor... who?”
The Doctor let out a bark of laughter and clapped his hooves together. “Brilliant! Over nine hundred years and I still love it when they say that! But anyway, look at you!” He lunged forward faster than Time could react and took both his cheeks in his hooves. “Look at lovely old you! Oh, wait,” he said, withdrawing his hands as if burnt and stepping back. “Probably shouldn’t maintain contact too long. Wouldn’t want to risk burning out the connection and having my body disintegrate until it can find a new template. Oh, would that count as a regeneration? Only have two of those left.”
Eyes suddenly filling with a deep emotion Time couldn’t place, the Doctor stared into nothing for a few moments before shaking his head and once more smiling at him. “Anyway, have you seen a grey pegasus mare by any chance? Messy mane, wonky eyes, kind of adorable in a puppy dog sort of way? Told her I’d be back in five minutes, but judging by the taste of the air—” He held up a hoof for a moment, then licked it— “I’d say it’s been closer to ten years. Whoopsie-do!”
Brain not having fully rebooted yet, Time just managed to lift a hoof, pointing towards the front door. “You... you just missed her.”
“Really?” the Doctor said. “Hmm, didn't think the targeting scanner was that far out of sync. Wait, no, what’s today?”
“Tuesday,” Time said slowly.
“Ah, that explains it,” he said, nodding his head. “Never could get the hang of Tuesdays. I mean, who cares about Tuesdays? It’s not the beginning of the week, nor the middle or the end. It’s just sort of... there. Bland, dull. Almost as bad as Sundays. Anyway!”
The Doctor strode back towards his blue box. “I suppose I’ll just have to catch her next time ‘round, so I’ll get out of your hair now. No, wait! Mane,” he said with a giggle. “Sorry, still getting used to the lingo.” He threw open the door, but stopped halfway through, spinning around to face Time Turner. “Oh, by the way, be sure and write your dad next Thursday congratulating him on winning his bridge tournament. He deserves it, too. Lucky Brake is a dirty cheater. Anyway, allons-y and all that!” He flashed one more winning smile at Time, then closed the door. Seconds later, the wind and the whooshing returned, and within moments the impossible blue box had faded into nothing, leaving Time Turner alone in his living room once more.
A deep sigh escaped him as he ran a hoof across his face. “I have got to move out of this town.”
Rainbow Dash was not freaking out. No, ma’am.
Sure, she may have spent the last ten minutes pacing in front of Chez le Fillie, heart racing like a Wonderbolts derby and her teeth alternating between grinding and chewing on her bottom lip, but she was most definitely not freaking out. Freaking out is what lame ponies did. The type of ponies who worried about every single little detail, who wasted time analyzing and planning. Not awesome ponies who jumped headfirst into danger, who soared through the sky at supersonic speeds. Ponies like her. So she wasn’t “freaking out.” She was just...
She was...
Letting out a little growl, Rainbow made a mental note to ask Twilight for a cooler phrase than “freaking out.” For now, she simply plopped her rump back on the bench outside the humble restaurant and once more checked the clock mounted on City Hall, sighing when it said that it hadn’t been a minute since last she checked. A cool breeze relieved the blush on her cheeks that had set in when she arrived ten minutes ago, fifteen minutes prior to the arranged time of six in the evening. Rainbow couldn’t remember a single time in her life when she had shown up early for anything except Wonderbolt shows and Daring Do book releases. The sun was just setting, so while the street lamps had turned on, she at least had a pretty evening sky to look at as her mind raced.
Throughout the time between the end of the auction and their appointed date, Rainbow had been near giddy. On the inside, of course. She had won, achieved her goal, and in addition to that internal satisfaction, she would get to enjoy her prize: a date with the most eligible bachelor in Ponyville. The one stallion most mares in town, as well as a few other stallions, wanted to get their hooves on. A stoic, strong, and handsome stallion... that she didn’t really know all that well.
Yeah, Rainbow had been best friends with Applejack for years, so she had seen Big Mac all the time on the farm, not to mention throughout town, but beyond being drop dead gorgeous and “the silent type,” she was having trouble recalling many details about him. What kind of music did he like? Country, probably. What was his favorite book? Had he even read a Daring Do book?! She didn’t know what she would do if they didn’t share that! Come to think of it... did they share any interests at all? They had to if they were gonna work, right? Her parents had bonded over a love of sports—her a cheerleader, and him a rising hoofball star until his injury—but she could also remember them doing all sorts of things together, like cooking. Wait, Mac lived on the farm, so he was probably a good cook, right? Rainbow could burn cereal!
Ugh, what had she been thinking?! She had spent almost three months worth of wages on a stallion she knew about as well as Twilight knew the inside of a gym! Sure, Spitfire had fronted her the bits, but while Rainbow hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her captain since the auction—or Fluttershy, come to think of it—she had no doubt that she was going to pay every single bit owed via some form of punishment. And for what? A stallion she had said maybe a dozen words to in her life, and probably heard less than that back from?!
Jumping up from her seat, Rainbow began to pace again. Maybe this was a bad idea. She didn’t really know anything about Mac! Okay, so she knew that he was really easy to get along with, the kind of guy that would listen to her talk for hours, but could he keep up with her in a race? And yeah, he was always there for his family and never let them down, and loyalty was definitely something she could recognize and appreciate, but could he name any Wonderbolt not on the current roster? And maybe he had a strong presence—not just physically, but in nearly every sense of the word—that made her feel like she could relax and not have to worry about always looking cool, but would he enjoy a Daring Do convention? And sure, having a stallion that cool would make her more cool by proxy, but could he have—
“Miss Dash?”
Every muscle in Rainbow’s body tensed almost painfully, and her train of thought skidded right off the rails. That low, soothing baritone that called out from behind her sounded just as laconic and easygoing as ever, but she could hear a slight tremble, one that seemed to vibrate perfectly in time with her racing heartbeat. Casting an eye towards Town Hall, she saw it was six. On the dot. He had arrived exactly when he said he would. Right, he was reliable, too. Using every ounce of ‘bolts training she could muster, Rainbow slowed her breathing, threw on what she hoped would be her famous cocky smirk, and spun around... only for her artificial smirk to melt into a genuine warm smile, cheeks tinged with just a tinge of heat.
“Big” Macintosh Apple stood just in front of the restaurant’s front door, maybe five feet away. He wasn’t dressed up, thank Celestia, but he had removed his trademark yoke, and even from this distance she could pick up faint traces of some kind of cologne which mixed quite well with his family’s usual scent of apples and earth. His muscular body was as solid as ever, but there was a noticeable bit of nervousness in his eyes that, when combined with how he had neatly combed his mane to the side, gave this massive draft pony the appearance of a frightened school colt. He was smiling at her around a single tulip held in his mouth.
For some reason she could not fathom, and didn’t really care to, the sight of him standing there with just the right mix of confidence and anxiety to be adorable washed away the nerves that had been screaming at her not five seconds ago. Still smiling, she let out a little snort and said, “You know, I’m not exactly a ‘flowers’ type of mare.”
“I know that,” he said, slowly approaching her.
“Then why bring one?”
“Well—” he took the short stemmed flower out of his mouth and boldly leaned in towards her— “my daddy once told me that if a stallion don’t bring a pretty mare a flower on the first date, he's either a plum fool, or his heart ain’t in it.” Having placed the tulip gently behind her ear, he pulled back and looked her right in the eye.
Rainbow looked back hard, scanning those lovely green eyes for any hint of reservation or insincerity. She found none. “Well, we know from the auction that you’re no fool, so...” Tearing her gaze away from him, she turned to appraise her appearance in the reflection of the restaurant’s window. The only time in her life she had willingly put flowers in her mane was at Princess Cadance and Shining Armor’s wedding, and that had only been because Rarity had threatened to kidnap her and paint her hooves bright pink if she didn’t. Now, however, as she looked at herself with that lone tulip behind her ear—and felt the nearby presence of the stallion that placed it there—Rainbow let out a single chuckle. “Hmm,” she said, cocking her head to the side just a hair. “Yeah, I could make this look good.” She turned back to Mac and winked. “Come on. I’m buying drinks, you’re buying dinner.” With that, she brushed past him and walked inside, but not before giving his nose just a tiny flick with her tail. Once more, that smooth, low baritone voice behind her chuckled.
“Yes, ma’am.”