The floorboards groaned under Limestone’s hooves as she polished off another set of 30 push ups. She did a push up for each infuriating feather she saw on her bed, then one more ‘cause fuck it. A wobbliness started to affect her limbs. She grabbed the offensively pink book with her teeth and returned to the annoying Wonderbolt in the kitchen, who was making a flowchart or some shit.
“Okay,” Spitfire began as she entered, “since you took so long I started to write out the mission’s objective. It’s deceptive in its simplicity. For instance, ‘getting dates’ doesn’t really mean any date; it means an enjoyable date. We could easily just find some mooks to take us out, but it would probably end in disaster.”
“Like those dates Pinkie set me up on.”
“You’re been on dates?”
“You haven’t?”
Spitfire actually reddened when confronted. “I told you I didn’t have the time! That’s why I don’t know what to do!”
“Sorry. I just thought the head of the illustrious Wonderbolts would have some experience.”
“Fine, fine! You’re hardly the only one to think that. But it’s true: I have no experience at all,” the Wonderbolt admitted.
“So you’re a cherry mare,” snickered Limestone.
“What? Hey! You’re telling me you’ve had experience?!”
“Maybe.” She didn’t, but Spitfire’s cherry-red face was too good to pass up.
“Come on,” the red-faced pony commanded, “spill it. I want to know.”
“Sorry, Cherry Mare, I’m not really the sharing type.” Her smile couldn’t be wider. She had this flank busting thing down.
“Well, at least the nickname isn’t that insulting. So, uh, there are two approaches I can think of. One: date as many ponies as possible until we find the right matches. Or two: We narrow down the playing field by finding out what we want in a mate.”
“What I want?” There it was again. The concept of her “wants” was so foreign that it seemed like an elusive mystery. All she had found of life so far was what she didn’t want. She had no idea what she wanted.
“Well, let’s start with something simple. Stallion or mare?”
The question hit Limestone like a bolt of lightning. She had never considered it an option. Mares had stallions, right? But then, her own sister had shown her that wasn’t true. Could she date a mare? It sounded so much easier than dating a stallion. Stallions were so focused on how strong she was, and how they had to get stronger to match her. A mare, on the other hoof, sounded much more comfortable, but would they be strong enough to handle her?
“Umm… this was supposed to be the easy part,” Spitfire sighed. “I guess you’re still finding out about yourself. No biggie. It takes a while to figure out what you like. Heck, you don’t even have to choose if you don’t want to. For some ponies it’s just about the pony, not the gender.”
“What about you?” the embarrassed farm pony spat.
“I’ve already given this great thought, and I love mares. With a few exceptions,” the Captain folded her forehooves across her chest in pride.
“So it doesn’t have to be one or the other?”
“Nope.”
“I guess as long as they’re strong enough, that doesn’t matter,” Limestone said with a defiant face. If Spitfire could choose both, then so could she. After all, it should be about the pony.
“Into strong ponies, huh?”
“Well, not necessarily, but they need to be. I keep nearly crushing most of them. I don’t want some delicate flower that I have to worry about just giving them a hug or something. If they can’t handle that, they sure can’t handle the real stuff.”
Spitfire looked at her in thought. “I hadn’t thought of that. I’ll put that down for me too.”
Limestone couldn’t stop the snort that followed that statement. She was a pegasus talking about being strong.
“Excuse me?!” the pegasus asked with an eyebrow raise. “You have something to say, Hot Stuff?”
“Oh c’mon,” the farm pony finally blurted. “Sure you look tough, but you're a pegasus. You're light and fluffy from flying around. I break rocks for a living.”
“Flying around takes a lot more work than you know. I break storms for a living, for fuck’s sake.”
“Alright, Cherry Mare, let’s put this to the test!” A farm hoof was raised and placed on the table. The gauntlet had been thrown. That cocky smile returned as she waited.
“You’re on, Hot Stuff!” Spitfire answered with a hoof placed next to her combatant.
The hoofs interlocked and the battle began. Tendons and muscles bulged on both forehooves. Teeth clenched. Shoulders hardened. Eyes blazed. The ball of conflict didn’t move. It stayed suspended in the air and shook slightly. Perspiration had started to drip down on both of their foreheads. Limestone had never been stopped like this. The fire within her blazed in agony. This mare had to go down. But the hoof wasn’t moving. The papers on the table wrinkled and scattered.
Seconds turned to minutes. Finally the strain was too much for either of them and they both collapsed. “That’s… that’s… never happened to me… before,” puffed the farm mare.
“Me… either,” the pegasus panted.
“It’s probably because I just did a million push ups.”
“Yeah, well I must be sore from my crash. We’ll try this again tomorrow. First thing. That way, we’re both at our best. Now, let’s take a look at this book.”
Spitfire grabbed the book with her other hoof and began to look through it. She squinted at it and looked a little uncomfortable. “Uhhh, you never opened this book have you?”
“Fuck no. I’m not going to look through something like that.”
“It’s rather specific. It’s very… Pinkie.”
Limestone buried her head in hooves. It was so embarrassing. She was sitting across from another tough mare and looking at some stupid book in dating. How did it come to this?
“What, is it filled with balloons or something?”
“No, I mean she wrote it.”
“What?!” The earth mare was instantly up on her hooves and looking over Spitfire’s shoulder. The book had been hoof-written; it was specifically written for her.
“Your sister really did a lot of work,” Spitfire said as she flipped through. She suddenly gasped. “No way!”
“What?!”
“It’s-it’s a training manual,”said the pegasus, opening the book wider so Limestone could see. “It has an entire training routine all worked out for you. It says ‘for you and a friend.’ This is exactly what we need.”
“Well it is Pinkie. This is the kind of thing she does.”
“What do you mean?” asked Spitfire as she skimmed through the book.
“Pick a random page and stop,” commanded Limestone with a sigh.
The Captain stared at her a bit but did as instructed. She riffled through the book and picked a page closer to the back.
“Now read it.”
The pegasus began to read,``Now you and your friend, start at the beginning of the book and DON’T SKIP AHEAD!”
“Huh? How could she have known?” Spitfire mused to herself. She quickly skimmed the book back to the beginning to make sure the party pony didn’t write on it every page. She didn’t.
“Pinkie sense,” Limestone said with a slight nod and stood still.
“You say that like I should know what it is.”
“Fine,” said the farm pony with an eye roll. “Pinkie has a sense that can tell her before things happen. All of us Pies have senses (find that thing and change it).”
Spitfire’s eyes became two thin slits. “Sooo, you can sense the future?”
“No, that's Pinkie sense. The rest of us have different senses.”
“So what are the other ones?”
“Maud has Maud sense, which means she can find anything she puts her mind to. Marble has the ability to talk into your mind. She only does it with us Pies usually, but apparently she can do it with Vinyl, too.”
“And you?”
“I”, Limestone looked away. She was feeling very exposed all of a sudden. She hated that. “I don’t use mine anymore. So, what does the book say to start with?”
Limestone’s tone completely shifted and she sat next to Spitfire once again with an eager expression on her face. The pegasus opened her mouth and shut it again then shrugged.
“Congratulations,” the Captain read. “You have found a friend to help with finding a special somepony. Please don’t use Marble for this. Though I know you won’t.”
“Why would I use Marble? She’s my sister!” cried an exasperated Limestone. She was tired of comments like this. She heard the whispers in town when she and her sister went shopping. It made her slam the table with her hoof.
“Hot Stuff, more push ups.”
“I’m fine! I’m fine. Just, everypony has the wrong idea about us. It’s infuriating.”
“Well, I don’t,” declared Spitfire. “So drop the rest of it. Now, can we start this training?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
The pegasus started from where she left off. “You and your friend will go through exercises to train you for a real date. Remember, this is your friend, so there is no need to be nervous. Start by thinking of your perfect special somepony.”
Spitfire put the book down and closed her eyes. Limestone watched but then a sideways glare was all she saw. “Come on, friend, this is the only connection we seem to have. You think it’s a coincidence that your boulder brought me here right after your family left you for not having a special somepony? I’m here to train with you. Or do you have other friends?”
Limestone closed her eyes. She pictured a strong stallion. The kind on the covers of those trashy romance books Marble used to read. She pictured his mane blowing in the wind. The white tussled shirt with a button open. That perfect cheesy smile. Then Limestone pictured her hoof sailing into that stupid smug face of his. The look of shock and confusion that would set in. How dare he look at her like he’s Celestia’s gift to ponies!
“Umm, Hot Stuff?”
Limestone’s eyes popped open. She looked at the concerned pegasus who pointed at the table. Under her hoof was a fresh dent.
“Sounds like you didn’t really get the idea on this one. Why don’t we return to traits? You said ‘strong’ so what else?”
“Well I don’t want anypony that takes shit. Those types of ponies that just get pushed around piss me off.”
Spitfire stared at her blankly. The pencil remained still in her hoof. What the fuck was that look for? Nothing was more aggravating than watching some pony just lay over and take whatever shit other ponies dish out.
“And I don’t want them to give me shit either,” Limestone added with a head nod.
“Okay, you know who you are, right?” sighed Spitfire as she put down the pencil.
“What?”
“Well, if they can’t take shit, how are they going to talk to you at all? You’ve done nothing but give me shit since I got here. And if they don’t take your shit, they probably will be the type that will give it right back. So I don’t think this pony you're looking for exists,” Spitfire said, crossing her forelegs in a self satisfied manner.
“I won’t take anypony’s shit,” Limestone stated as if it was a law of her universe. “Especially if it’s a mate.”
“You’re going to have to do something. This nonshit-taking, nonshit-giving pony’s going to be near impossible to find.”
“Fine… I’ll try to take a reasonable amount of shit if I end up giving it.” Did she just concede a point again? That lonely day must have taken its toll on her.
“As you said earlier, you’re older than I am,” Spitfire sat back in her chair with a business-like look on her face. Was this training or was she being demoted? We can’t afford to be too choosy now. That being said, what about foals?”
“Foals?!”
“Do you want them? Do you care if the other pony has them already?”
“I never even thought about it.” The wide-eye mare admitted. Why did this have to be so complicated? What was wrong with just I like you, you like me, let’s go out? “How about you?”
“I like mares and I make my living as an athlete. One foal will turn my body to shit.”
“But aren’t there spells? For mare couples, I mean?”
“Yeah, but they aren’t as effective and have a lot of problems. But it is possible,” sighed the Captain. She placed her hoof to her forehead. “I think we’re getting off track. We should be focusing on dating first. That other stuff will come in time.”
“You’re the one that brought it up,” whined Limestone. Foals, special spells, worrying about ruining her body with pregnancy? This felt too overwhelming. No wonder why she never made it through dates. Crushing rocks was so much easier.
Spitfire ignored the farm mare’s comment and turned the page. “Finally,” she sighed, skimming the page. “How to ask out a special somepony. Special someponies can be anyone. So be careful. They can jump on you when you least expect it. Even the pony sitting across from you could be a special somepony in disguise. So you have to know what to do when one jumps out at you.”
“What in the heck is she talking about?” cried the pegasus in disbelief. “I don’t think this is how this works at all.”
“It’s just Pinkie’s way of thought. Her advice is usually pretty good,” sighed Limestone.
Spitfire snorted. “It’s all we have,” reminded the farm pony. The reading began again. “The basics of asking a pony out are simple: Be yourself. Don’t use cheesy lines unless you are cheesy. Don’t use corny lines unless you’re corny. You get the idea. You should probably just punch them because you’re punchy. NO, WAIT, DON’T DO THAT!”
“Your sister knows you well,” commented the highly critical insufferable “friend”. The pressure was building in Limestone’s hoof again.
“Push ups!”
A grumbling mare listened while her face moved closer then further away from the ground. “Sounds like we should practice this,” Spitfire informed her from above. “I think we should ask each other out.”
“What?!” The cry was followed by a crash as Limestone’s body struck the floor.
“We have to ask each other out. To practice. What’s the big deal? We’re training.”
“We can’t just ask each other like that? It sounds… lame.”
The Wonderbolt placed her hoof to her head once again. The move started to grate at Limestone. It made her feel stupid or difficult or something. She opened her mouth to tell the prissy pegasus off but closed it again.
“What are you going to say when the time is right? You need to think ahead here, Hot Stuff,” chided the Captain with a shake of her hoof. “Now get up here and ask me out already.”
Limestone sat across from her and took a big breath. She looked at the smug, demanding face of the Captain, who crossed her hooves and waited. She could feel redness fill her cheeks but shook it away.
“Go out with me.”
Spitfire sat there looking at her as if considering the offer. She looked at the ceiling mulling the prospect over. Finally she looked back at her “suitor”
“Are you demanding me to go out with you or are you asking?” The response finally came.
“Well, would you turn me down?”
The question caused Spitfire to redden. “That’s not what we’re talking about here. You’re supposed to ask a question, not just demand some pony to date you.”
“Fine, Cherry Mare, if you’re so great, you ask me out.”
Spitfire stared. She placed a hoof to her chin and looked at the ground. Then looked right into Limestone’s eyes. “Is Tuesday a good day for us to go out together?”
“I don’t know. What day is it now?” Limestone cried, throwing her hooves in the air.
“It doesn’t matter what day it is. It was just an example.”
“Wait, that was you asking me out? That sounded just as demanding. I thought you were still talking about me asking you out!”
Spitfire reddened. “Are you saying you were asking me out for real?! This is training.”
“Fine. I will do this the right way. For training.” Limestone knew how to do this. She secretly read those lame books Marble brought home. Just to make sure her sister wasn’t getting funny ideas about things. She would never admit that to some self-important pegasus.
She took a deep breath and reached out with hooves and placed them on Spitfire’s. They were much softer than they seemed during the hoof wrestling match. Spitfire blushed but didn’t back down. Limestone turned her head as she saw Marble do hundreds of times so that her mane blocked her face. She could feel the redness burn her cheeks but knew it was part of the look she was going for. In a shy soft voice she asked, “would you like to go out with me?”
“Yes,” came the immediate response. “I mean, um, yes, that’s the way you should do it.”
Limestone turned her head quickly and caught that Spitfire was staring red faced at the ground. She almost forgot that she was still holding the Captain’s hooves. She slowly slid her own hooves off. There was a lot of resistance to that movement, like trying to get out of the covers in the morning.
“Now you try,” coaxed the farm pony. She wondered why her hooves still felt warm and why she looked forward to this attempt with such eagerness. Because she wanted to win. That had to be it.
“I… I need a break,” Spitfire said in a dejected voice.
“What? What’s the matter?”
Spitfire didn’t answer. She left the dining room and entered the living room. Limestone watched with eyebrow raised and then could have sworn she heard grunts and huffs coming from there.