Spike was staring up at the ceiling. He supposed the date had been fun enough after that initial hiccup. He'd been a lot more considerate, but maybe too much? Pinkie had picked up on it, and they were both more subdued than usual that night.
"Expectations," he said, then again, lengthening the word like taffy and tasting it on his tongue, between his teeth, biting and chewing until it was nothing anymore, dissolved.
"Expectations," he murmured, thinking on the stilted conversation and the single round they'd had.
He rolled out of bed, grabbed the pillow, and threw it on the ground.
"Expectations," he growled, thinking back to all of his other dates, clasping his head in his paws as he began to stride up and down his room, their room, even without her bed and his basket, it was still theirs, and that thought had him growling and kicking petulantly at the pillow on the floor.
He sighed, flopping onto the side of his bed, head still in his paws, pouring over his night with Sunset and wondering if he'd piled any onto the mare, if she would have mentioned it if he had, if she would even have noticed.
"Buck it," he said, standing and stomping towards the door to his room. He hit the higher of the two switches on the wall, pushing power into the magical line drawn with powdered crystals that streaked toward the ceiling before the central lantern lit, followed shortly by its smaller brethren on the wall around the room.
Gathering a mass of parchment, ink, and quills, Spike sat down at one of the tables in the center of the library, quickly dropping everything on the table before pushing most of it to one side. Sitting, he pulled over one of each and began writing on the scroll.
A knocking from the door had his head twitch, almost pulling him from his project, but his eyes remained chained to the pages.
"Who is it?" he called, pausing slightly when a feminine voice barely made it through the wood. "C'mon in."
The handle was tried before there was a barely audible huff followed by a click.
"I know that I can just get in whenever Spike," Pinkie groused as she pushed the door open, "but come on, you could at least get up and let me in."
He hummed, still writing away, pushing the newly filled scroll over to the others and reaching for a fresh one.
"Wow, that's quite a bit," her voice said, near his shoulder. She was quiet for a bit before he heard her suck in a breath. "Spike, what are you doing?"
"Writing," he murmured, barely coming out of his thoughts to reply. "Gotta know. Gotta be able to catch myself in the future. Gotta... Gotta know."
His paw came to a stop as her hoof gently came to rest on the back of it, and he allowed the other to lift his snout and turn it in her direction. Her eyes were glittering in the sunlight that filtered into the room through the open door and creased by tens of tiny lines. Worse yet, her smile was upside down, the meaning fully torn away.
"You're doing it again, Spike," she told him. "Hurting yourself after I told you what you were doing wrong is just another way of taking it out on me."
He flinched, scowling with a massive growl and a rush of smoke as he turned back to the page, writing furiously until she pressed down on his wrist.
He felt himself starting to boil over, the waves of his mind and soul rocking the little boat that was his mind, his anger literally venting through his mouth as smoke and flame began to drip out of his snout, and he felt his lips pulling away from his teeth...
And then there was a warmth, external, and he felt the rocking boat begin to still, found himself anchored in the storm by a beating heart pressed against his side.
Two legs, so small and delicate compared to himself, were wrapped around his chest, and he suddenly remembered how to breathe.
Pressing his snout against the table, suffocating the heat as his lungs pumped like bellows. Not stoking the fire but killing it. Shaking, he felt his other paw, one whose arm was being pressed upon, gently come up and grasp the elbow that led around him.
"I don't think I operate well on no sleep, Pinkie Pie," he muttered, blinking as large tears tried to push out of his eyes. "How the fuck does Twilight do it?"
"How the what?"
"New word Sunset taught me," he chuckled roughly before he asked, "May I pick you up and hug you? Platonically?"
Instead of answering, a hoof gently pressed on his thigh before the hug moved around from his side to his chest. He let go of the broken, crushed quill and wrapped his arms around the mare, shuddering as the last of the roiling left him, leaving him exhausted and still, still his thoughts were racing furiously.
"Do you know how to stop thinking, Pinkie Pie?"
She hummed before saying, "Well, I don't think that thinking about the thinking will help you stop thinking the thinking, so maybe think about some other kind of thinkings?"
His brain froze, overtaxed and under-rested, trying to follow along that winding path to the end only to find it endless.
After a moment, he chuckled, giving her a soft squeeze and relaxing back from his curled position. His spine screamed at him from being hunched over the table for so long, and his eyes burned as his lungs did. Tilting his neck to the side, he shivered as the vertebra popped and cracked before he opened his eyes to look down at the mare holding him as best she could.
"You keep rescuing me like this, and I'll start to think you mean it," he murmured, no, croaked out.
"Of course I mean it," she said into his shoulder, and he realized he could feel her muzzle pressing between his neck and arm. "I'll always mean it."
"I know, Pinkie," he croaked again, "you're a great friend. Tartarus, best friend."
"I got a promotion," she giggled into his scales.
"Deserve it," he whispered absently before looping his arms around her rump and standing up.
"Hey," she said warningly.
"Platonic," he swore, walking toward the kitchen. Reaching into a cupboard, he pulled out a tall glass before humming questioningly at Pinkie.
"I'm good," she sighed, displeasure in her tone but otherwise seemingly along for the ride.
"Make it up to you," he swore quietly before filling the glass at the tap and draining it. Refilling it, he walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs, pausing at the door to his room. Kneeling down, he slowly let Pinkie go.
To his surprise, she wrapped her back legs around him, shaking her head. "In for a pound, in for a Pinkie," she murmured.
Chuckling, he carefully replaced his arm under her and stood up again, making his way into the room and sitting on the bed. Sipping at his water, he reached back and pulled his blanket out of the way before warning her, "The S.S. Spike is going down."
She unwound from him, twisting to place a hind hoof on the mattress before pressing him down into the bed.
Chuckling, he reached over and pulled his blanket over himself, Pinkie shifting to sit on top of the cloth.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, reaching out and gently laying a paw on one of her hooves. "I did the expectations thing again."
"Yeah," she sighed before smirking. "At least you're aware now."
He hummed, the light quickly being doused by a pair of scaly eyelids. "Keep calling me on it; I'll learn," he promised before he was out.
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
He yawned, gently stretching his arms up and feeling his spine shift and crack, letting out a soft sigh before his eyes shot open.
"Shit."
He sat bolt upright, his legs trying to kick at the mattress to launch him up and out of bed.
Instead, they launched him straight out into the air, face-first into the floor. Skidding for a moment, he rolled bodily across the wooden floor and into the door with an ominous, sharp crack. Grunting, he reached around and felt for any sore spots on his spine before falling through the suddenly open door.
Looking beneath himself, he sighed at the door, quartered, on the floor, before shooting himself into the air like a spring. Landing on his four paws, he scrambled down the stairs and straight into Pinkie, who was bolting from the kitchen.
Skidding, her eyes widened as she slammed into his chest with a small "Ough" before a pair of arms wrapped around her and lifted her into the air.
"I am so sorry," he murmured, crushing her softly into his scales.
She mumbled something into his chest, and he gently squeezed her before setting her down and taking a step back, ending up just sitting on the stairs.
"I said it's okay," she repeated with a chuckle. "But geeze, Spike, that was a freak-out of Twilight proportions! I mean, wow! What happened?"
Spike groaned and clapped a hand over his eyes, pushing away the headache that was crowding in now that the panic was emptied.
"I couldn't sleep," he said, rubbing his paw over his face. "Got locked into a mental loop, couldn't stop thinking about what you'd said. Wondering if I'd done that with Rarity, or Sunset, or any other creature."
There was a moment of silence.
"So you thought the best thing to do about that was to stay awake longer, writing down every conversation you've ever had?" she asked, sounding almost in awe.
"Just the ones with anycreature I was interested in slash currently slash thinking about dating," he mumbled.
There was a longer silence that Spike broke with a groan. "Look, I obviously had some huge freak-out last night, some mental break, and terrorized myself and you. I think I need to take a break from dating."
"Oh yeah, maybe," Pinkie deadpanned, and he lifted his paw to look into her stony face. Her expression softened, and she placed a hoof on his knee gently. "Spike, this is blunt, but... I think you may need to talk to somebody. Like—"
He interrupted her with a groan as he let his head drop back. There was a dull thunk, an unpleasant pulse from his headache, and a sigh.
"I don't wanna talk to Doctor Graymane," he huffed, pouting. "He just tries to throw medicine at me until I go away."
Pinkie was silent for a moment, long enough that Spike pulled himself out of the stair to check on her.
She was gently chewing on her bottom lip, pressing her fore-hooves together.
"I mean, he's fine," Spike started trying to backtrack, but Pinkie laughed and shook her head.
"No, silly," she giggled. "I know. I didn't like seeing him much, either," she said, faux-lightly. When Spike didn't react, she sighed and reached into her mane. Pulling out a little white card, she stared at it for a while before offering it.
Gently taking it, Spike glanced at the name. He frowned, looking back at Pinkie. "Really?"
Pinkie blushed a bit and giggled.
"Fluttershy's friend?" he clarified, looking back at the name on the card.
"She's actually really good at listening to feelings and helping creatures understand and cope with them."
"She gave me a dog treat," he deadpanned.
"And how did you feel about it?" she asked innocently.
He glared at her. After a long, sweetly innocent look back, he snorted. "I enjoyed receiving another piece for my horde."
"See! She knew how you were feeling and acted upon it!"
"Poorly."
"Spiiiiiiike!" she groaned, stomping her hoof into the ground.
"Fine!" he stage-yelled, laughing at her. "I'll go see the vet! Again!"
"Not right now, you won't," she yelled back, laughing, "it's almost nine in the evening!"
Spike opened his jaw to yell something again but froze and looked at the clock.
"Fuck."
Frowning, Pinkie returned to a normal volume to ask, "Spike, is that a swear word?"
"Uh, yeah," he said absently before sighing. "Ugh, Twilight's gonna lay into me about not opening the library today."
"Oh, it's okay, Spike," Pinkie said, perking up, "I didn't open, but I did watch the door, and nocreature came by. Well, there was two book returns, but I didn't know how to check them back in, so they're on the main desk."
"She'll still hear about it, somehow," he grumped, getting up from the stairs and cracking his lower spine before walking over to the desk. "Thanks for looking out, though."
Walking around the desk, he pulled open one of the large drawers and pulled cards out of each of the books, turning a wheel on a large block on the desk before stamping them and slipping them into the drawers. Glancing at the covers, he quickly walked to the other side of the library, sliding one book home on the way over, placing the second on the fourth self up at his destination.
"Done," he said dryly, frowning at the book and glancing down at Pinkie. "Now I've got fourteen hours ahead of me, followed by a crap nap, followed by another eight hours, followed by sleep."
"Sounds like a party," Pinkie grinned up at him.
"That's what I thought you'd say," he deadpanned before his claw came up to cup his neck. Scratching, he glanced away as he asked, "You've been up all day, huh? Heading home soon?"
She was silent, and when he looked over, she had puffed her cheeks up and was glaring at him.
"You're making it weird," she grunted through pursed lips.
He looked at her before sealing his own lips and blowing up his cheeks, rolling his eyes frantically as he did so.
He heard her deflate before deadpanning, "Wow, Spike, real creative."
"Got you to break, though, huh?" he said, letting his own mouthful of air out and grinning.
Her eyes widened, then narrowed. "Hrmm, touché."
"Wait," he said, holding up a paw as she braced, laughing as he asked, "Really though, aren't you tired? You can head home; I don't need company every night."
She frowned but eventually shook her head. "No, I'm staying. I took a nap before lunch today. And after." She blushed a little. "And during."
"Snrk."
"Excuse you?"
"Didn't say anything," Spike said, waving his paw through the air.
Frowning, he asked, "Wait, if you were here all day, who was at the Cake's?"
"Uh," she murmured, scratching her ear, "I kind of played hooky? Told them that I had a friendship problem."
Spike's mouth wriggled, trying to decide between smirking and frowning before he gave up with a sigh.
"Alright then, Pinkie, what're we doing tonight?"
"The same thing we do every night!"
"Parcheesi?"
"No!"