Twilight wasn’t looking at Sunset.
In the present tense, the reason for that was obvious – Sunset wasn’t in the tent. She was out in Camp Everfree's bath facilities; at this point, she must have finished showering and was probably brushing her teeth. Twilight had returned from doing likewise around 20 (25?) minutes earlier, just as Sunset had finally made it back to camp in the dim evening light, having been helping to renovate the crystal cavern they’d discovered into somewhere suitable for a charity ball. She’d given Twilight a few updates, but broke for the showers as quickly as possible, needing to clean up before going to sleep.
Twilight fully understood why; it had been a long, long day, and a part of her wanted to simply flop over and get some well-earned rest. Especially since she knew that, for the first time in a long time, a certain somedemon wouldn’t be waiting for her in the dreamscape.
But that wasn’t going to happen, because she was now very conscious of the fact that she’d completely failed to look at Sunset directly at any point just then. Maybe Sunset hadn’t noticed – she’d been in a hurry – but Twilight had.
And as she sat in her pajamas atop the deep purple covers of her bed, legs dangling over the side as she stared into the wooden floorboards, she was pondering why it was suddenly so hard to meet Sunset’s eyes. Which was a perplexing thing to wonder about, given she knew the answer.
Within the confines of the tent – confines being a loose term, given the rather massive size of the well-furnished and quite polished structure, which had been much to the chagrin of Applejack and her “roughing it” plans; her friend had asked if these things could even be called tents at all, and in all honesty Twilight couldn’t help but agree, even if she was simultaneously extremely grateful–
She caught herself mid-mental tangent and refocused.
Within the confines of the tent, looking at Sunset shouldn’t have reasonably presented any difficulty. It’d be perfectly normal, at any rate. Not like it’s weird at all to look at your tentmate, especially when they’re your best friend and you’re talking to them. Besides, there’s not that much else interesting to look at, especially in the low lighting. Spike was already asleep on his bed, and after the day they’d had, he’d probably be out for a while.
So it’d just be the two of them. That should make it easy, right?
Besides, she’d been doing it the whole trip up to now. Well, kinda. When everything from surprise magic powers to surprise attempts at relationships to the not-so-surprise monster in her brain to the surprise attack from a different monster not even twelve hours earlier was commanding her attention. It had been easy to look at Sunset then, when the weight of an uncountable number of heavy short-term stressors were pushing any other concerns to the back of her mind.
But all of those were gone. The only things left were her and Sunset.
And also The Plan.
Was that what was making it hard to look at her? Well, naturally. It was obvious, really. The answer she’d already known.
Granted, it wasn’t unusual for Twilight to have a bit of trouble looking people in the eyes – and that’s just when you’re wearing your glasses, joked the little part of her mind that apparently wanted to be a stand-up comedian, which she promptly silenced out of sheer annoyance – but she’d reached a point of familiarity and trust with Sunset and her friends over the past month-and-a-half to not have that be a constant problem. And besides, she normally didn’t notice those eye-contact failures until they were pointed out to her. This wasn’t that.
But now she had to deal with what it actually was, which meant–
The train of thought explosively derailed as she heard the sound of a light tromping outside, her head snapping up to attention. She quickly pulled her legs up and slumped her body sideways onto the bed, then rolled over to face the tent wall as she heard someone step onto the platform.
Sure enough, a familiarly entrancing, melodically harsh voice greeted Twilight Sparkle as Sunset Shimmer stepped inside.
“Hey, I’m back!”
Twilight didn’t budge. “Spike’s sleeping.”
A pause, then a softer tone of voice. “Oh, sorry. I, uh, totally get if you just want to go to sleep now. I mean, we did just have one of the wildest days of our lives.”
As she heard Sunset step over to her bed and stop in front of it, the surviving remnants of her previous thought process started shooting up signal flares and screaming in chorus to remind her exactly what she’d been lost in contemplation about before, and how she was about to let The Plan go down in flames larger than the ones she’d accidentally started in her lab in eighth grade.
She lurched up and looked towards Sunset, though not quite at Sunset, whose back was turned as she pulled up some of her covers. “No, no, I didn’t mean that!”
Sunset turned to face her and put a teasing finger to her lips, making a shushing sound as she pointed towards Spike.
“Oh, right, sorry, I’ll be quieter,” Twilight giggled nervously as she got back into a sitting position. “I just meant that I…”
She became conscious of the fact that she now really was looking at Sunset. Like, right at her. The rich amber of her face, the lovely cyan of her eyes, the fiery crimson of her hair, that kind, inviting warmth that radiated from her, a gaze that somehow felt as piercing as it was inviting.
Twilight’s eyes quickly darted away, only for her mind to rebel with angry reminders of what needed to be done. She then forced them, with all the effort of dragging a couch across a room – something she wouldn’t have to worry about very much, she noted as she glimpsed the new necklace Sunset still wore and momentarily considered her own – back to Sunset’s.
“I just meant that, um…” she stammered. “I wanted to talk a little bit, before bed.”
“Oh, good,” Sunset said, placing her necklace on the footstool beside her bed. She then plopped down on top of the covers and flashed a bright smile at Twilight. “I do too. There’s just so much to process from the whole day, like our powers, the camp stuff, the whole Gaea Everfree thing, and…” She paused for a moment, smile becoming a mild frown. “Is it something about Midnight?”
“Huh? Oh, um, not really? It’s kinda weird, I should be thinking all about that, probably, and being excited that she’s gone and I don’t have to worry about where my magic is coming from and stuff, but, um, I honestly haven’t really at all since it happened. It’s just been…”
“Hectic,” Sunset said with a nod, smile returning. Twilight returned it.
“Yeah, that’s, um, probably a good word for it. But I was thinking– well, that is, I’ve been thinking, and, uh…”
And now keeping her eyes on Sunset’s was outright impossible, with them glancing away the second connection was made.
Sunset leaned forward curiously. “You can take your time, but… is it about Timber?”
That jerked Twilight’s eyes right back to Sunset’s without a moment’s hesitation. “What?”
“Well, I mean, I figured when I got back you’d probably be telling me all about how he asked you to the Ball, or maybe you got bold and asked him to the Ball, and how you were really excited to have your first dance and stuff,” Sunset said, smiling at what must have been an image of that theoretical excited version of Twilight, even as the real one could do little more than blink as she mentally sorted through possible responses. The smile waned as she looked back at said real-Twilight. “But… you seem like something’s bothering you.”
“Me?” Twilight stammered. “I just, uh, um, I, well–”
“Are you two going to the dance together? I-Is it too early? I didn’t mean to pressure–”
“We’re not.”
The higher-order processes in Twilight’s mind were clearly failing her, so the basic instincts had forcibly wrested control. Which was always a disaster that would leave said higher functions to clean up the huge mess the lower ones would inevitably leave behind. And yet it kept happening.
Sunset slowly nodded. “Oh.” She looked away, which made Twilight deeply conscious of how long her gaze had been fixed on Sunset’s, and thus she did likewise. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” Twilight replied. “It is, really. We just, um, when Timber and I were making the invitations for the Ball earlier, um, we… we did talk about it. Not just the dance, but also how fast we’d kinda tried getting into this whole thing, when all this stuff’s been happening around us and how it’s been hard to think when we’ve had so much on our minds, and also– well, what things would look like for us after camp. And now with all these big clouds that were over our heads and stuff gone, I think we both, um, kinda agreed that it just didn’t feel right for us. Plus it wouldn’t really reflect well on him suddenly dating me when, well, he’s the camp counselor and I’m a camper.”
She could hear Sunset shifting on the side of the bed. “I hadn’t really thought of it like that, I guess. Probably right. But I was just excited to see you, well, excited. Sure, maybe it was a bit of a whirlwind, but… maybe after everything, that was what you deserved. Finding someone to make you happy, just like that.”
Twilight laughed softly. “I think we were both leaning into the idea of it being a relationship relationship too hard. Especially me. I mean I’ve never really been in one before, but, well, I’ve also never really been that much into guys either.”
“Oh, right. I remember you said that once, but I figured maybe Timber was that perfect little bi sweet spot for you.”
“Bi sweet–” Twilight snorted, and looked back over to see Sunset grinning.
They both burst into little giggles.
“Oh, I love that, bi sweet spot. There’s just something intangibly hilarious about that as a phrase and as a concept. You have a lot of those?”
“Twi, not to brag or anything, but I’m pretty sure I’m a walking bi sweet spot.”
Had Twilight happened to have taken a swig from her water bottle at that moment – impossible, given its location on the other side of the bed – the resulting spit take would have been so perfect it would have made Pinkie jealous. As it was, she simply gave a peal of ridiculous laughter, which Sunset echoed.
There was a mumble from across the tent. “Hey…”
Twilight seized up and put a hand to her mouth, which Sunset also imitated, and looked over toward the far end of her bed. “Sorry, Spike!” she whispered. “We’ll keep it down.”
There was a heavy sigh, followed by silence. After a moment, the sound of light doggy breathing became audible, and Twilight relaxed.
Before she could turn back, she heard Sunset’s voice, now much quieter. “Do you want to come sit over here? So we don’t have to talk so loud?”
That briefly-acquired relaxation was gone in an instant as Twilight whirled around. “Do I… um… uh…”
Sitting by Sunset, of course, would be perfect for The Plan. But those higher-order mental processes were still fully in Panic Mode, so instead of a sensible reply like Oh, definitely, I should sit next to you as you suggested, the way a normal human being would, it was more of a mumbled “shyuuurrrrr?”
Before any other part of her could protest, her lizard brain then proceeded to puppet her onto her feet and shamble her across to the other bed. It dropped her down entirely too close to Sunset for comfort and refused to let her scooch away. The damned thing even fixed her gaze on Sunset, in what seemed to be a major defiance of all previously defined instincts. It didn’t seem especially concerned that these actions would constitute a charge of high treason at the inevitable internal tribunal that would be held once this was over.
Sunset didn’t seem to notice the coup happening in Twilight’s head as she flashed her a smile, then picked up where things had left off before the gigglefest. “So, um, like I was starting to say before all that, I just wanted to make sure things were okay. Especially since it felt like Timber was your one bright spot this weekend.”
The need to concretely reply was a nice social impetus that forced an armistice in Twilight’s mindscape as she quickly extracted a response. “We’re okay. We just kinda broke things off before they really got started, but we did exchange phone numbers after, so I think… I think we’ll be friends after this.”
“That’s good. I’m glad.”
Twilight shifted forward slightly, resting her hands at the edge of the bed. A thought occurred. “Wait, you said you thought he was my only bright spot?”
“Um-” Sunset froze for a moment. “Un… until today, obviously. And, well, he was the only one you seemed comfortable around earlier, when you were thinking that, um, all the magic stuff was coming from you.”
“Oh.” Twilight nodded, still somehow not looking away. “I’m sorry about that, by the way. It wasn’t very rational of me to think that way.”
“Well, like you said, this wasn’t really a weekend filled with a lot of rational thought. But I guess things have worked out mostly for the best, right?”
A sudden shock ran through Twilight’s body as she felt Sunset’s right hand close over her left.
Somehow, she found that she wasn’t fleeing the tent in immediate panic, in what must have been an immense exercise of unconscious restraint. But she couldn’t control the violent jolt that occurred as her body’s red-alert message of Sunset is holding my hand shot through her nervous system and turned Panic Mode into a full-blown nuclear meltdown.
This time, Sunset definitely noticed. And Twilight could only watch in horror as she pulled her legs up onto the bed and shifted sideways into a cross-legged position, to see her more fully.
“Twilight, what’s wrong?” she asked. After a moment of silence, her eyes widened, and she motioned to the geode she wasn’t wearing. “Oh, um, I didn’t see anything in your mind, if that’s what–”
“No, it’s not that.” She hadn’t even considered that initially, which was extremely fortunate for her blood pressure.
“Then what?”
Unable to bear her gaze, Twilight turned away, eyes looking down at the floorboards once again. The remnants of rational thought within were scrabbling for something, anything she could say to defuse the situation. There were probably lots of things she could choose from to explain herself, especially after everything that had happened that day, that week, the whole month-plus since the Friendship Games, maybe even something from beforehand.
“Ummmm… well…”
And yet there was one thing that was blocking her ability to access anything that could have been useful, could have saved her.
The truth.
At that moment, Twilight deeply sympathized with Applejack. Why couldn’t devising effective lies be as simple as proving formulas?
She sighed as she tried to dig through the rubble of her mind, try and find The Plan, see if there was still a chance to salvage it. But her lower brain, taking advantage of the loosened barriers to the rest of the mental landscape, began to seize that critical information in yet another brazen betrayal, and began processing it into linguistic form to spew out of her vocal chords.
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
Silence.
“And I’m a little, um, a lot scared, actually. But I need to say it, because right now it’s just making me feel really, really stressed, and I don’t know when I’d ever be able to just bring it up when it makes sense, because it doesn’t make sense… It’s dumb. It’s so dumb.”
“It’s not, Twi. I promise. Whatever it is, I’ll listen.”
Against her better judgment, Twilight slowly turned to look at Sunset. She could see there was definite concern on her face, but… there was also a smile. Not a big smile, but Twilight had taught herself to read smiles well enough – particularly Sunset’s – to get at least a semblance of what they meant.
This one roughly translated to an earnest “please don’t be afraid.”
As she looked away once more, she hoped she could heed the smile’s advice.
“Well,” she began, “part of why I tried getting together with Timber this past weekend was because of a promise I made to myself. After the Spring Fling, you see. I really did appreciate getting to go with all of you as a group like that, barely over a week after I switched schools. But, I mean… I’m not the best with crowds, and stuff. And maybe this is a really silly reason to want to be in a relationship, but I thought, well, if I was there as someone’s date, then maybe it might be easier to be somewhere like that, you know? To have just one person to kinda talk to, cling to, be with so it’s not just you vs. the crowd? Maybe that’s nuts, or maybe that’s some kind of weird philosophy of relationships I accidentally nailed. I don’t really know.
“Anyway, um, the point was that I made this little vow to myself that the next dance I went to, I would go as someone’s date. Even if that meant asking them myself. It was… I know it’s a weird promise for me to make, when I probably could just, well, not go to the dance if it was making me feel like that. But, then again, I was – I am – really trying to, y’know, put myself out there and be more social! I mean, I have years of that to make up for! Sure, I probably won’t like everything I try, but, well, at least I can say I tried.”
She paused for a deep breath, briefly sneaking a glance over. Sunset didn’t try to cut in. She just sat, patiently waiting.
“I thought I’d have until the next Fall Formal before that happened,” Twilight reluctantly resumed, “but it was still something I hadn’t forgotten when Timber first started talking to me. And I decided maybe I should go for it, especially when it seemed like all of you were pretty excited for me. But when everything was over, and Midnight was gone and all this fog I was trying to see through was lifted, I just… I had this… clarity, I’d say. And when I was talking things over with Timber afterwards… it’s weird, really. Suddenly the next dance I’m going to isn’t months away, it’s tomorrow. I should be more committed to doing this with Timber, even if I wasn’t really finding him all that personally attractive, and maybe even if it would be just for one more night.
“But when that clarity hit, I… I just suddenly knew who I’d want to go with. To be with. Like I’d known already, somehow. And it wasn’t Timber, it…”
As much as she didn’t want to, she had to see precisely how Sunset would react to what was next. So she turned her head and met Sunset’s eyes directly, and said the words that would make or break everything.
“It was you.”
And with that, The Plan was gone for good, replaced fully by The Unhinged Whim.
She watched silently as a parade of expressions marched across Sunset’s face, adamant that she witness them all. First, there was the expected surprise and alarm. Then what seemed like concern. Then a bit of harder-to-read pondering. And then clear hesitation as she briefly opened her mouth, then shut it without saying anything.
And then Sunset looked away, eyes moving past her towards the floor off the side of the bed. Just staring.
It took willpower Twilight had no idea she possessed to not run crying out of the tent right then and there.
After a few agonizing seconds, Sunset looked back up, looking almost somber. Fearful, even. And Twilight’s breath hitched as Sunset began to speak.
“I… need to ask you something, Twilight.”
The gulp that followed was involuntary, and the word that followed was essentially a reflex as well. “Okay.”
“I don’t really know… exactly what we’re gonna say next. But I really, really don’t want you to be afraid. I want you to know that… that we’ll still be friends at the end of this conversation, no matter what. I’m not going to punish you for opening up to me. Please believe that.”
Some of that felt reassuring. Other parts felt doubly horrifying. But Twilight responded with merely a nod and that same word. “Okay.”
Sunset waited for a moment before taking a deep breath and speaking. “So you like me like me?”
“I really think I do.”
“And you figured this out today?”
“...yes and no. I’ve had kinda, um, odd feelings around you for a while. Maybe the whole time, since the Games. But everything else just made it hard to see them for what they were until now. To see that you’re pretty, and smart, and wonderful, and caring, and everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner, and–” Twilight’s eyes widened as she realized what she was saying, and she clamped her mouth shut.
“...Oh.” Sunset’s eyes trailed off, and for a few moments, things were silent.
Twilight began to speak in a whisper-soft voice. “I–”
Too soft, clearly, as Sunset spoke again, and she immediately clamped her mouth shut. “Would… would you be asking me this without the dance?”
“Um–” Twilight stopped, pondering. “I don’t know. The dance and talking about it was what made me think about all those things I’d felt before, but… it’s not like that wouldn’t have happened just from being around you again later, right? Maybe? I don’t know. Maybe I just let things get to me. Maybe after everything I’m still just as dumb and thoughtless as I’ve been all week. I just can’t blame it on Midnight anymore. Oh no…”
At that, the hesitation on Sunset’s face melted away, and she reached a worried hand out toward Twilight’s shoulder. “Hey–”
Twilight drew back, looking away, and Sunset retracted her arm in kind. “No, you’re right. This is dumb and stupid and horrible. I’m probably just being weird and trying to rush into something stupid, same as I was with Timber, but worse because it’s you and I’m still trying to process how grateful I am to you for saving me from Midnight at the Games and now again today… oh no. Why didn’t I think about this? Why? One of the biggest days of our lives, and now I’m doing this to you! It’s just…” She dropped her face into her hands, sliding them awkwardly underneath her glasses. “I’m just being selfish and horrible. I’m so sorry–”
“Twilight.”
It was a simple word, and yet it arrested the stream-of-consciousness rant. Twilight peeked out from between her fingers.
“I haven’t said no.”
And at that, all of Twilight’s blood turned to ice.
With the heaviest of effort, she withdrew her hands and brought her gaze back to meet Sunset’s. And she saw the expression on her face, while not outright joyful or excited, didn’t have any trace of fear anymore.
A million questions at once were expressed in a singular term. “...What?”
And Sunset’s answer came in the form of another question. “Can I sit next to you?”
Twilight blinked. And watched unmoving as Sunset shifted her body, turning to face Twilight’s bed on the other side of the tent. Her legs unfurled and draped over the edge, and she scooted over to Twilight, stopping right at her crossed knees. Then she looked at her again, eyes wide, expression warm.
“Please?”
Twilight absentmindedly nodded, mimicking Sunset’s change in position, and the two of them sat side by side once again on the bed. Though Twilight left a modicum of space between them, Sunset moved down to fill the gap, pressing her right arm to Twilight’s left.
“Is this okay?” Sunset asked.
It wasn’t, but Twilight had already dug a deep enough grave for herself by that point. She simply nodded once more, without facing her.
She heard Sunset softly sigh before she began. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you like that. I just… I wasn’t expecting that, and that’s not your fault. I needed a moment to really think about what you were telling me. I didn’t mean for you to think I was judging your feelings.”
“Oh.” Twilight still kept her eyes forward, though their angle slid down from the tent wall to her bed.
“I did want to know if there was something I did to make you feel this way,” Sunset added, “but hearing what you were saying, I don’t know if it matters. This seems like it’s hard enough for you without me making you think it’s for the wrong reason.
“And the truth is that I do kinda want this for you. Like I said before, I want you to be happy, and to find that person that you can be happy with. And if you really think that person is me, then, well, I’m open to exploring that. To try making that real for you.”
Somewhere in the melted pile of slop that currently composed Twilight Sparkle’s brain, a surge of electricity sent bubbles rippling along the surface. First in the ooze regulating surprise and excitement, and then eventually in the sludge that was formerly the center of critical thinking. (It didn’t seem to affect anything controlling facial expressions, however.)
“I… I’m sorry,” Twilight stammered, “I know this should be really amazing, but, um… I really want to know what you mean by try. I mean, it doesn’t really sound like you like me like me.”
“…Um–”
“And I really don’t want you to play pretend. That won’t make either of us happy.”
She finally turned her head to look at Sunset, and saw her head beginning to droop, the fiery hair partially obscuring her face.
“Sunset? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–”
“No, it’s okay. I said it wrong, that wasn’t what I meant. Really. I’m just trying to be open with you, because, well, you deserve my honesty. And the truth is I think any relationship with me is gonna be a bit of an experiment, because I’ve got kinda, um, unique issues when it comes to relationships with people. Or not exactly people. Human people.”
The words bubbled in the mental goo for a solid few seconds before a meaning was finally deciphered. “You… you’re only into ponies…”
Sunset didn’t move, but sighed deeply. “Not exactly. I have a human body, and human hormones, so I have had times where I’ve noticed something that… feels like attraction? But there’s just this disconnect inside me. I’m used to human shapes, both other people’s and my own. But it still doesn't feel like I react to them the way people born in this world do. Like even if maybe I notice I might like someone physically, my head just can’t reconcile that idea at all. And that’s if it actually is what I think it is, and I’ve never really managed to figure it out. Sometimes if I think I might be feeling that way, I’ll try to picture that person as a pony, but it doesn’t help me make sense of it. It’s really confusing, and it’s hard to describe even to myself.
“And when I said I know I’m a walking bi sweet spot, that’s from people basically telling me that. I’ve definitely had a few people hit on me, girls and guys, some of whom definitely aren’t exclusively into girls. But I haven’t had a relationship like that of my own. In Equestria I was too young and too distracted for that, and here… Flash is a great guy, and what we had was special in its own way. But it was mostly just a friendship, and then less-than-friendship, that I let people call a relationship because it would help me stand out if I did. I… owe him a lot, but that’s getting off-topic.
“But the point is that when I say I don’t know if I’m attracted to you… I mean it. I literally don’t know. And the fact that I already have all these other feelings about you just from knowing you, from being your friend, from caring for you… that just makes it even harder for me to recognize something like that. And I’m really sorry I can’t give you a more useful answer, but that’s the truth.”
Before Twilight could respond, she suddenly felt Sunset’s hand grasping hers once again. She flinched, but not as dramatically this time. And Sunset, seemingly anticipating it, turned and gave a soft smile.
“But those other feelings… they are real. I know that. They make you special to me, even more than our other friends. I’ve only known you a month and a half, and yet it feels like a lifetime. There’s something between us, something I’ve never felt with anyone. And as someone who’s gained so much from embracing everything friendship has to offer, I think that that something is worth exploring.”
Twilight stared into her as she vainly tried to coax understanding from her liquified mental faculties. “Sunset… what are you saying?”
Sunset suddenly clasped her other hand around Twilight’s, cupping it between both of hers and lifting it up between them. “I’m saying yes, Twilight. Yes. I want to be your date to the Crystal Ball, and more. I want to know what we could be together, and I want to give you that partner I told you you deserve. I don’t know if I’m up to the challenge, but you have my word I’ll try my hardest. Will there be stuff about this that will still be a bit of an experiment to me, that maybe I don’t really get? Definitely. But if I’ve figured out one thing from talking about this with you, it’s that there’s no one better to conduct that experiment with than the smartest scientist I’ve ever met.
“And when the worst-case scenario is simply that it doesn’t work and we’re just friends again… that sounds perfectly fine to me. At least we can say we tried.
“So yeah, my answer is yes.”
And for a moment that lasted forever, Twilight just kept staring into Sunset’s joyous face, while the inside of her emptied skull lit up with deafening, cacophonous fireworks.
Forever began to stretch out too long, though, and Sunset tapped her on the shoulder. “You okay?”
And in that moment, Twilight found the last bit of brain left functional was that bizarre chunk that insisted she had a future in comedy.
“Oh, um, I was just thinking that… I mean, that’s nice and all, but I didn’t actually ask you to the dance yet.”
Sunset looked wide-eyed at her for a moment. Then she suddenly snorted, before bursting into an uproarious cackle, letting go of Twilight’s hand and lurching forward towards her. She wrapped her in a deep, amazing embrace that Twilight reciprocated without a second’s thought. She could feel herself absorbing the laughter through contact, beginning to giggle herself as she felt tears begin to slip from her eyes.
“Oh, Twi…” Sunset said through gasping breaths.
“Sunset, you’ll wake Spike–”
“Oh, the ship already sailed on that one a while ago,” said definitely-not-Sunset. “Also, that was barely even a joke.”
The guffaws died down as they both looked over to see Spike, who had apparently hopped onto Twilight’s bed while neither of them were looking and was now sitting and staring.
“H-hey, Sp-Spike,” Twilight mumbled through continued snickers. “S-s-sorry to w-wake you…”
The dog relaxed his front shoulders in a way that seemed to be a shrug. “Seemed cruel to interrupt. I figured all I could really do was wait it out.”
“And we’re both grateful,” Sunset added from her position behind Twilight’s head.
“How long have you been listening?” Twilight asked.
“Umm…” Spike pondered, scratching his chin with a hind leg. “Somewhere around when you were calling yourself dumb and thoughtless.”
Twilight felt the shudder of a snort against her shoulder as she let out a pained exhale.
“Great,” she mumbled. “So you get to hear her whole amazing romantic speech, but only hear the part where I was a big sadsack.”
“Pretty much,” Spike replied with no hesitation.
“Aw,” Sunset said as she finally let go and pulled back from Twilight. “Don’t worry about that. You did great.”
“If you say so,” she said with a softer sigh.
She was caught off guard when Sunset leaned forward once more and touched their lips together – just for a second, but long enough to send Twilight’s heart pounding in her chest as seemingly all blood in her system was suddenly rerouted directly to her face.
Once she’d pulled back, Sunset looked bemusedly at Twilight’s expression and grinned. “I do say so.”
“Yechh,” Spike’s voice cut in from across the room.
Twilight seized the moment to get up and walk back over to her bed, leering down at her vocal pup, trying her hardest not to show the giddiness coursing through her system. “Oh, grow up.”
“Hey, you two ruined a perfectly good little nap. I think I’m entitled to a few reactions.”
Twilight turned around and sat down on the bed beside the dog. “You seem to think you’re entitled to quite a lot these days. I still can’t believe you talked me into taking you here.”
“Meh,” was all Spike had to say before rolling over onto his back. Twilight rolled her eyes, curled her left hand into a fist and began to rub the fuzzy tummy.
“Awww,” the other voice in the room interjected.
Without stopping, Twilight shifted her gaze over to Sunset, who’d been watching all the while, still with that grin on her face. Up until the grin was broken by a yawn, anyway.
“Think we both need to turn in for the night,” Sunset said, rubbing her eyes. “And here I thought stopping a mad sorta-goddess, defeating a dream demon, and getting magical superhero outfits would be the end of the craziness today.”
Twilight smiled back. “Same. And, well, thank you. I guess I kinda forgot to actually thank you for saying yes.”
“Trust me, you didn’t have to. I could see it.”
“Bleeeeeeeeghh…”
They both ignored the dog’s feigned moaning as Twilight pondered. “So… how do you think we should tell everyone? Wait, do you think we should tell people?”
“I mean, it’d be weird if I’m your date and can’t tell anyone. But Rainbow and Applejack want to have a rehearsal around 11 in the morning, I think. It’ll just be the seven of us, so we can tell them then.”
Twilight stopped rubbing as Spike rolled over and stretched out beside her. “How do you think they’ll take it?” she asked.
“Umm…” Sunset scratched her chin. “Fluttershy and Rarity will both fawn over us, if Rarity isn’t too annoyed at having to redesign our dresses to better synchronize with each other. Pinkie will find the party cannon she didn’t bring and shower the whole cave in confetti. Applejack will give us proud simultaneous slaps on the backs that will probably break our spines, while Rainbow will get jealous and try to cite some rule she made up on the spot that says bandmates can’t date. Sound about right?”
Twilight let out an awkward hah noise. “I think you know our friends too well.”
“No such thing. Oh, and I won’t go into anything we said just now. All I need to say is that you asked, and I said yes, and now we’re a thing.”
“A thing?” Spike exclaimed as he hopped off the bed and began to trot over to his own place of slumber. “Please. Twilight’s gonna need a way more technical term than that. This relationship is doomed already.”
That earned the dog a glare that no glasses could obscure. “Cool it. And thing works for me. Especially since we’re still figuring out what we are, exactly, so I guess it fits that lack of precise definition? Plus it’s cute.”
“Who even are you anymore?”
“Someone who’s going to be very stingy with dog treats tomorrow if you don’t go back to sleep.”
“Fiiiine…” There was a soft bit of grumbling as Spike disappeared from sight as he settled onto his cushion.
With that, Twilight stood up to put her glasses by the window. Before doing that, though, she diverted over to Sunset, and wrapped the sitting girl in a tight hug of her own, planting a little kiss on Sunset’s forehead.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Thank you, too” was the reply.
Twilight wasn’t fully conscious of the next few minutes as she eventually broke away from the hug, put up her glasses, and made her way back to bed as she heard Sunset get under her covers. She mirrored the latter act, resting her head onto her pillow and rolling onto her right side, facing the other bed. She heard a little goodnight from Sunset and could tell when the lights had gone out, and she subconsciously began the little breathing exercises she’d learned to help her fall asleep–ones she’d been avoiding using in recent weeks, in fear of what awaited her in her dreams.
There was no such fear tonight. Everything had changed. So, so much.
And so, as her eyelids slowly began to close, Twilight was looking at Sunset.