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TMP Prompt #130 - “Oh Come On!”
Prompt:
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Patience Has Its Rewards
Sweetie Belle’s sister had often lamented that her boundless creativity and energy weren’t wed to an equal amount of restraint.
The filly was forever planning artistic and adventurous endeavors, while thinking only of the end result and not how important it was to carefully plan about how she was going to get there.
But today was different.
A year after the biggest disaster she and her friends had caused, Sweetie was sure that everything was going to go just fine, and this wasn’t blind faith as usual, but the confidence of making certain.
She’d researched her target, asked the right questions, found his likes and dislikes.
She’d baked the cake from scratch, under her sister’s careful supervision, following the recipe to the last detail. She’d mixed the punch (and this time it really was just punch) carefully, throwing out batch after batch that didn’t meet her expectations, until she had it right.
She’d meticulously decorated the napkins, cups and plates so that each bore a unique design. Sure, it was just going to be the two of them, sure it was all disposable. That wasn’t the point.
For the proper ambiance, she’d borrowed her sister’s records, picking music she knew he’d like, and memorized topics she thought he’d like to talk about.
She’d been preparing for over a week.
What could go wrong?
***
The note had been on the library door, carefully hoof-written, and addressed to him from a secret admirer. It was the lightest dab of Rarity’s perfume upon the letter, however, that had made Spike rush eagerly to the park.
The tablecloth was already laid out, and Spike took in the cake and punch with eager eyes. Honestly, though, she could have made mudpies and rocks, and he’d probably have been just as keen to eat, as long as he was spending time with her.
He felt like dancing and singing, barely noticing the phonograph in the background…
…He also felt like running away and hiding under his bed, a little bit.
He felt…he felt…Where was she?
There was a rustling of bushes.
“Rarity?”
Sweetie Belle blushed, stepping forth. “N-no, Spike, it’s just me.”
“Rarity couldn’t make it? Darn it! I—”
His vision was abruptly obscured by a cake being smashed onto his head.
“Hey, what the heck—?”
Fortunately, most of the cake cleared away when she dumped the punchbowl on him.
“Sweetie Belle?!” He yanked the bowl off. “What was that for?”
He started to pursue the fleeing filly, but his foot caught on something. He looked down to see a napkin, covered in pen-and-ink drawings of hearts and unicorns and dragons, not crafted in the hand of an experienced designer, but—
…
Oh.
***
Candy shopping was always a nightmare on Hearts and Hooves day, but after a desperate struggle Rarity had managed to secure a good number of her favorite varieties…
…And that hank of Carrot Top’s mane would eventually grow back. If not, she’d send her a complimentary wig.
Anyway, an evening of unrestrained decadence and design beckoned and—
The sound of sobbing caught her ear.
“Sweetie Belle?”
She gently opened the door to her sister’s room, only to find Sweetie lying on her bed and weeping into her pillow.
“Sweetie, what happened? What’s the matter?”
“Leave me alone!” She turned away. “I don’t wanna talk to you. I hate you!”
“Me!? What’s wrong with—?” She blinked. “Spike.”
“Go away!”
“I will not.” She climbed into bed next to her sister. “Sweetie, honey, look at me.”
The crying filly turned to face her, and Rarity brushed a stray bit of hair from her face.
“I tried so hard, and he still…he still…”
“I’m sorry,” Rarity said. “But, do you know? I’m really proud of you. You were very patient and careful about this.”
“Like it did me any good.”
“It did.” Rarity insisted. “You made a fine cake, and delicious punch…Didn’t Spike like it?"
“Um, I dunno…” Sweetie’s eyes shifted. “I kinda dumped it all on his head.”
“Ah.” Rarity cleared her throat. “Well, apart from that perfectly understandable reaction, you’ve been very mature. The important thing to remember is that this isn’t the end of the world. You can always try again, if you want to. Don‘t you want to?”
Sweetie sniffled. “Y-yeah.”
The doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.” She wiped her eyes. “Rarity?”
“Yes, dear?”
“I’m sorry I said I hated you. I love you.”
“And I love you, too.” She kissed her sister’s forehead. “Remember, there’s always tomorrow.”
And sometimes, Rarity reflected as she opened the door to admit an extremely abashed baby dragon and his flowers. Sometimes the day isn’t over yet.