Chapter 15: Elsewhere in Ponyville
“Kishing, kishing, kish- omph!” Pipsqueak intended for the sound that escaped his lips to come out as an exasperated sigh with his drunken look out’s overly clingy behavior, though it escaped sounding much more like a gasp as Scootaloo came to the conclusion that walking was optional, and Pipsqueak’s hoof required another of her patented mouth baths. Once again with her favorite painted lollipop firmly held within her maw by both hooves, Pipsqueak shuddered as a sensation most pleasant and baffling swept over him, and he took a few seconds to recapture his stalwart countenance as it tried to abandon ship before attempting to move again.
Quite content to just lay down in the road and continue to assess the earthy flavor of his hoof, Scootaloo giggled and nibbled a little as Pipsqueak dragged her the rest of the way, which was fortunately only a few ponylengths away. Thankful that they were close, Pipsqueak took a moment of silent appreciation for Scootaloo’s light frame, found himself quite unabashedly examining said physique for a moment before catching himself, shook his head in an ineffectual attempt to stave off the bizarre heat rising to his cheeks as was prone to happen whenever he saw Scootaloo as anything other than an adventure crazed harpy, and took a few moments to rest before knocking frantically on the door.
“Storm, are ye in there, mate? Have a heart an’ answer yer door, lad!” While the shuffling and murmur of the stallion’s voice indicated that his request had at least been acknowledged, Pipsqueak felt a pinch and chanced a peek back at Scootaloo. Like a foal content with a bottle of milk, Scootaloo simply peered back with cheery, round eyes that seemed to draw the hapless colt in, stoking the slowly growing flame within his chest. “...it’s cheatin’ t’ still be usin’ charm magic when you’re vocabulary is reduced to a single word o’ two syllables,” Pipsqueak muttered, tearing his gaze away and chaining his willpower to the rower’s bench: he wasn’t about to become the siren’s snack. At least, no more than he already was.
Greeted with a look of abject boredom and forced indifference, Storm’s mind threw up a stop sign as it attempted to reconcile the fact that Scootaloo was merrily suckling on the colt’s hoof without a shred of dignity. Pipsqueak, however, had little time before feminine wiles broke through the last of his defenses and he was swept away in the flood of withheld affection he wouldn’t directly acknowledge, and thus he feebly attempted to move his ensnared hoof, felt the filly tighten her hold along with a warning bite, blushed a little deeper, and threw himself at Storm’s mercy. “...help me?” Storm blinked once, twice, and again as he tilted his head to the side so the mind buck could drain out of his ears.
“Help?” Storm repeated, mulling over the concept. “No, I don’t think you need anymore help, Pipsqueak. You’re, uh... doing just fine.”
“I’m...you...” Pipsqueak stammered, staring in disbelief. With his mind already suffused with no small amount of the undeniable cuteness on full display, Pipsqueak knew that he was making his last stand before something snapped and he said, or did, something he would likely regret; something like talking properly or returning the filly’s kindness in a like manner. He couldn’t have that. “Are ye even usin’ yer eyes right now?!?”
"Awww, did somepony forget to turn off his swag?" Storm cooed in a condescending tone, grinning widely and wincing a little as Pipsqueak yelled back.
"This ain't no time fer games, Storm! My hoof is drownin’ in a sea o’ yer sister's slobber; doesn’t that mean anything to you?!?"
"It does,” Storm replied in a sage tone, taking a seat and leaning a little closer as a devious grin spread across his face. “It means some serious blackmail material for me. Why?"
"...yer heart is as black as yer coat, lad," Pipsqueak moped, sitting down and yielding his will, resigning himself to be driven mad by the siren’s song. While pranks and teasing were commonplace, seeing Pipsqueak look seriously dejected, not just comically overplayed dejected, moved Storm to display a little sympathy as he reached out and gave the colt a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
"Nah, not black, just a little dusty,” Storm continued with wink, giving Scootaloo an experimental tug and receiving a flurry of utterly forceless blows from a wildly flailing hoof. “Ordinarily, I'd ask 'how,' but..."
"How?” Pipsqueak mirrored, perking up at the thought of having an ally to help disperse the steady build something within his mind. “I don't even need t' explain, just catch a whiff of her breath and ye'll know." Having learned the first time that “brother” was synonymous with “heartless brigand that would remove her pacifier,” Scootaloo regarded Storm’s face as she would any assailant, and the stallion couldn’t help but chuckle as his face was peppered with bops and jabs whose potency was on par with using the soft end of a feather as a shiv. Seeing her attack to be fruitless, Scootaloo opted for intimidation, and the fruity scent of wine assailed Storm’s senses while Scootaloo growled as fiercely as a drunken filly could.
"No... way...”
“It seems ye’re startin’ t’ understand me position, then,” Pipsqueak said hopefully, dragging himself a little closer and preparing for the immediate removal of the cutest leech he’d ever lay eyes upon. Alas, the colt was destined to suffer just a bit longer; after all, what older brother wouldn’t showcase his little sister in the throes of dissipation? It just wouldn’t be proper to turn such a rare occasion the blind eye.
“Mom, Dad, Dash, come quick! You gotta see this!” Before due protest could be made, Pipsqueak and Scootaloo both were scooped into Storm’s arms and swiftly deposited in the living room as everypony came running. Rainbow Dash was first on the scene, of course, though not by much as Grace pried herself away from the kitchen to take a peek with Quakehoof beside her and Hope perched merrily atop his head with a mouthful of mane.
“Something tells me this wasn’t part of her training in etiquette, mom,” Rainbow Dash chortled, snickering as she cantered over to the pair seated upon the couch.
“Indeed. She is definitely your daughter, Grace,” Quakehoof murmured, his smile accompanied by a deep, rumbling laughter as Hope viewed the pair and immediately leapt onto her father’s face, the well-known signal that she’d like to be let down. While Storm explained that Scootaloo was, by some means yet to be determined, quite inebriated, Hope galloped over to the couch, leapt up beside Scootaloo to study her technique, and then immediately dove upon Rainbow Dash’s hoof to try the same. While Grace’s motherly instincts were instantly roused by Pipsqueak’s growing distress, she saw no need to withhold her mirth, and after a good bout of giggles she approached and gave the colt a warming smile.
“It seems you’ve been given a rather perilous task, watching after my daughter,” Grace started in a soft tone, grinning as Pipsqueak nodded once and spoke in a respectful tone, just as his commodore had commanded.
“Yes, ma’am. I didn’t start this, honest! I saw she was having trouble walking, so I tried to help, and... and...”
“Kishing... fn!” Scootaloo finished, looking up at her mother with twinkling eyes. While Pipsqueak was unable, or unwilling, to acknowledge his attraction to Scootaloo, the brilliant crimson hue flushing his cheeks was rather hard to miss, and Grace took a moment to appreciate the fact that Pipsqueak had acted as commendably as anypony could hope. Certainly, there were colt’s who wouldn’t be against a little experimentation with a filly that seemed more than flirtatious, and Scootaloo grew territorial as Grace wrapped Pipsqueak in a gentle embrace.
“Thank you for taking care of my daughter. My, she’s feisty,” Flying Grace laughed, pulling away at her daughter’s assault and grinning back at Scootaloo who had released Pipsqueak’s hooves to take what was hers by right, pulling Pipsqueak into a tight, slobbery embrace.
“Mine! Can’t has!” Scootaloo declared, her head making small circular motions as she tried to focus on each face in turn, though since they all seemed to be spinning she found it rather difficult.
“Miss Grace, isn’t there something you can...” Pipsqueak started, falling silent as Scootaloo gave his shoulder a tentative taste and found it pleasing to her palate. It wasn’t that it was unpleasant, because in fact it was even more exciting than most of the adventures they’d shared over the course of a short week, and that was saying something, but that it was so startling new. Romance had never even been a consideration in the colt’s mind, but where once he had been able to keep thoughts of a serious nature from his mind, they now seemed to be the only thing he could focus on.
Is this really just the booze? Would she be like this with just anybody, or... does she maybe... kinda like me? I guess it’s not so bad... being eaten. Hey, maybe zombies did get something right! She certainly seems to be enjoying it. Sparing Pipsqueak further “serious” thought, Grace reached over and detached Scootaloo with a swift tug, wincing as wails of one wrongfully bereaved rent the air, mingling with the laughter of all present.
“No! Put down! Need... kishing!” Scootaloo squealed, straining towards Pipsqueak with her hooves outstretched.
“What ye need is a new hobby, lass,” Pipsqueak said slowly as he threw up his facade and reverted to his usual gait. “Grace, yer daughter be a silly dame, but I’d be scuttled afore I find somepony else with her sense o’ adventure! Thank ye fer lettin’ her join me crew.”
“You’re quite welcome,” Grace replied, her daughter’s raised volume necessitating an increase in her own so she could be heard. “Scootaloo, dear, would you please calm down? It’s really not proper to go on in such a manner.” While her mind had come to terms with the romance that had once driven her over the edge, the filly found some level of thought and articulation to be possible, slurred though it may be.
“Kishing ish fun. Wanna kish!” Scootaloo argued, staring back with extreme conviction as Grace set her on the ground.
“Well, I think you’ve had quite enough of that for one day, so why don’t you do something else for a little while? How about some dancing? You...”
“Danshing! Yay, danshing!” Scootaloo cried, not giving it another moment of thought before jumping onto the coffee table nearby and busting out the moves. Even in her undexterous state, she still maintained an impressive amount of finesse, and Pipsqueak found himself again noticing additional aspects of Scootaloo that he enjoyed that had nothing to do with the thrill of a fictional hunt.
“Storm, I don’t think they have much longer left before they’re official,” Rainbow Dash murmured, motioning towards Pipsqueak who was too awed to speak. “I mean, it’s so totally obvious that once they both figure it out...”
“Kishing, and lots of it,” Storm muttered with a defeated sigh. “It’s strange that it doesn’t bother me more, really... Sure, she’s totally smashed right now, but it still makes me happy to see her smile so much. Pipsqueak makes her laugh, and has shown that he’s more honorable than I would have guessed by walking her home. Besides,” Storm continued with a cheerful grin full of brotherly love and intent to maim, “if Pipsqueak does anything passed kissing, he’ll find out what it’s like to freefall from ten thousand feet.”
“That’s it? You big softie,” Dash giggled, pausing to call out encouragement to the filly owning the makeshift dance floor. “Yeah, flaunt those moves, Scootaloo!” Praised by her idol, showing off for a colt that was suddenly much easier to adore, now that things like inhibition and rationality had been set aside, Scootaloo was filled to bursting with revelrous glee which manifested in the form of a song. After darting from the table and very nearly colliding with the wall, Scootaloo disappeared for a moment amidst much distant crashing, only to return with her favorite hair clip in place, her mane hastily styled, and looking nothing short of alluringly gorgeous in the eyes of a young colt smitten far beyond what he knew. Bathed in the rays of the nonexistent limelight, Scootaloo stood on her hind hooves, struck a pose, and stole Pipsqueak’s breath like a true and proper lady pirate.
“I’m the esh, to the schee uh oh, T-A-L-O-O! For my shmexy captain, I’ll put on quite a show! I’m Shcootalicious!” How, Storm wondered, Scootaloo could manage such fluid movements while barely able to squeak out a coherent sentence was beyond him, but alcohol was due to take it’s toll, and semi-sultry movements slowed to a stop as the filly gave a cavernous yawn, tottered over to the couch, and promptly passed out next to Pipsqueak who decided for the sake of his already over-taxed mind that he would vacate the premise. At the sound of Storm’s voice calling out, he paused at the door, regarding the stallion with as stable a look as he could manage.
“Make it quick, lad. I could use a mug or three meself after that display...”
“Hey, I just wanted to say thanks again for bringing Scootaloo home,” Storm said, giving the colt a genuine smile. “It really does mean a lot to all of us.”
“Aye, tis just common decency, Storm. I wouldn’t be able to call meself an honorable thief if I turned a blind eye t’ me own crew staggerin’ in the streets! When she wakes, tell yer sister she should get into the grog more often. I’ve yet t’ see anypony excel more at merry makin’, prancin’, an’... she, um... looks good with her... hair...” Had the blush ever left, it would have swiftly returned, and with a barely audible “bye!” the colt turned tail and fled, away from the beauty, away from the charm, and into the cool breeze rushing passed his face as he galloped towards the clinic; if nothing else, he could have a nurse ascertain that the strange warmth and tug in his chest wasn’t just a fever.
Perplexion merrily rode piggyback, chatting up a storm and swatting away every alleged answer that began to formulate as Ruby continued to pace the length of her room. Her mind was set on finding the solution to a question she couldn’t quite spell out in its entirety, but that she knew it had something to do with the absolute impossibility that had just transpired without warning, precedent, or anything really that would explain itself or the tumult of bizarre thoughts and emotions tossed about by the gale force winds of utter confusion: the kiss just didn’t make sense. Firstly, it happened at all, which defied all expectation, and secondly, why couldn’t she get it out of her head? It was a gag. A joke. Totally platonic and definitely not born of a deeper, underlying emotion... wasn’t it?
But what if it wasn’t just a joke? What then? Silver Spoon and I just started getting close. I don’t want something like that to come along and mess it all up! And I don’t even like fillies as far as I know... Rumble was the first to catch my eye at all, and- ok, that was because he was nice, not because looking into his eyes turned my brain to mush, but still! With her thoughts about as fruitful as the Everfree Forest in the dead of winter, bewilderment was momentarily bucked from its perch while the filly paused, growled, and reared in vague agitation. “...and why can’t I get it out of my head? Dang it, Spoony, you... it... Mom~!” Throwing open her door and desperate for some assistance, the filly marched out to find the table abandoned, but a voice nearby beckoned her towards the room where her shout had roused Snowdrift from his pre-work nap.
“Dad, something happened, so now I need you to have all the answers, ok?” Ruby declared, hopping onto the bed as the groggy pegasus yawned, stretched, and flexed his maimed wings as far as was possible without pain. Of the four of Storm’s friends whose wings had been damaged in an accident some six year prior, Snowdrift probably had gotten it the worst, the result being chronic pain that made flight impossible and romantic relations excruciatingly painful. However, Snowdrift was more than just a crippled jester, and Berry’s constant support and encouragement had become the fount of life that kept a jovial stallion from dwelling on his obvious shame.
“Ugh, tossing me into a parenting moment first thing after a nap? You’re as heartless as your mother,” Snowdrift quipped, rubbing sleep from his eyes and pulling a face as he realized that it may be pertinent to brush his teeth before heading out. “Well, come on,” he continued, patting the bed beside him, “tell me what’s on your mind, and we’ll try and fill in the blanks together.” Ruby plopped down, pondered attempting eloquence or subtlety when introducing the subject, and then cleared the partially formed plan from the table with the blunt cudgel of truth.
“I got kissed by a filly, and I don’t know if I liked it.” Ruby waited patiently and expectantly as the stallion’s mind, prepared for something simple like “where is such and such miscellaneous household object,” or “this colt keeps staring at me,” or even “I just set my mattress ablaze trying to learn how to breathe fire using matches and a touch too much whisky,” but no, it was something deep and intellectual; not the clown’s forte. If nothing else, Ruby found the utter lack of comprehension in her father’s face to be worth a chuckle or two, and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes as Snowdrift was felled by the concept of serious thought.
“I’m sorry, but my sleep meter isn’t all the way filled, so questions of kissing rank or higher will be deferred to the matriarch upon her return. Have a nice day,” Snowdrift said in a cheery monotone, flopping onto his back and closing his eyes, only to open them quite suddenly as Ruby denied his denial and leapt onto his chest, nearly winding him as she caught him unawares.
“Less napping, more answers!”
“Ok, sheesh!” Snowdrift wheezed, coughing a little. “I need a little more information than just ‘I got kissed:’ who, where, why, the works.”
“Fair enough. Uh... Silver Spoon, in my room, just a little while ago, and I think it was part of the prank we played on Scootaloo. I think.”
“What did you do, anyways? Poor filly came out and chugged nearly half a bottle of wine before staggering off...” After an appropriate amount of time spent laughing at the thought of drunken Scootaloo and feeling slightly stinted that she didn’t get to see the fruits of her labors, Ruby calmed and was preparing to give an in depth explanation when the opening of the front bid her pause. “Berry, Ruby is trying to make me think~! Make her stop!” Snowdrift whined, grinning cheekily as the filly folded her hooves across her chest and gave what she imagined was a stern glare.
“Ruby, what have I told you about asking your father serious questions? That’s dangerous,” Berry chided playfully, reassuring Snowdrift with a quick nuzzle before climbing up and laying next to the two. “Now, what’s on your mind that’s melting your father’s, sweetie?” Placing a hoof on the pouting stallion’s shoulder, both ponies gave Ruby their full attention as she recounted the events of the afternoon, culminating in the sudden shift in Silver Spoon before her apparent reversion immediately after. “So...” Berry started after a few moments of contemplation, “basically you’re just trying to understand why she suddenly acted so strange?”
“Pretty much,” Ruby confirmed. “I mean, she hates being touched, so I know asking her to play along might have been a little unfair, but then she got, like super close, and... then she, you know... I don’t get it!”
“Sweetie, why is this so important to you?”
“...I dunno.” Even Snowdrift caught some undertones of something in the statement, and Ruby hoped that the faint heat in her cheeks that was even more confusing than her proposed question wasn’t enough to be visible as Berry mouthed something to Snowdrift she couldn’t quite make out.
“Well, there are quite a number of possibilities,” Berry began, ignoring the anomaly and moving on. “It could be that your act of kindness, bringing her the soda the way you did, prompted Silver Spoon to do the same. You don’t really ask many favors, and maybe she’s picked up on that, even if she doesn’t always show it.”
“You know, she may have just missed your lips,” Snowdrift chuckled, wincing as Ruby justifiably bopped his snout a good one. “Manners, Ruby, manners... But seriously, from what you’ve told us and what little I’ve seen myself, Silver Spoon doesn’t really seem like one who would tease like that without a reason. It is possible you’ve got yourself an admirer.” Once, such a concept would have sent Ruby into a fit of giggles, but with her brow scrunched up in deep concentration, she stopped to ponder Silver Spoon’s behavior over the course of the week and found that both explanations seemed equally viable.
Everything is fine if she’s just finally coming around to the fact that being nice doesn’t cause mortal harm, but what if that’s not it? What am I going to do if she likes me? No, better question: what am I going to do if I find out I like her? How would I even know?
“I’m pretty sure if I tried thinking that deep, I’d land myself six feet under,” Snowdrift murmured, causing Ruby to stare blankly in his general direction. “I may not be the sharpest stallion around, but I’m pretty sure you don’t have to figure out all of life’s mysteries right this second, Ruby. Why don’t we head to the tavern so I’m not late for work, and I’ll whip you up something tasty to help take your mind off of things for awhile.”
“You know what? You’re right!”
“That happens occasionally,” Snowdrift confirmed, leaping to the ground and beaming as he turned back to find the filly had shed her mantle of worries, her infectious smile and bubbly countenance returning as she flung herself in a spectacular air tackle, latching firmly onto the stallion’s neck and knocking him a step back. Dropping Ruby to the ground and leaving her breathless from a sudden barrage of unpremeditated tickles, Snowdrift couldn’t help but take a moment of silent appreciation for how lucky he was, convinced that a slightly sore neck was a small price to pay for fatherhood.
How can one, a young dragon with a heart of gold, reconcile the fearful notion that something he’d witnessed and longed for himself, the beautiful friendships that had blossomed within the heart of the lavender unicorn he loved as much as any colt would his mother, had ground to a halt in his own life? It wasn’t just Sweetie Belle that he cared for, but each and every one of her friends; they all mattered. Certainly, as the young dragon quietly let himself into the library, offering but a simple wave to acknowledge the enthusiastic greetings received from the very one he sought to emulate, her stalwart companion, and tyrannical daughter that could render nearly anypony defenseless with a single squee, he found the corners of his mouth dreadfully difficult to keep upturned. Up the stairs, to his room, and into a bed that amounted to little more than a basket, well-worn fibers offered a sliver of security as a claw blocked out the world and one exhausted Spike sought to untangle the knotted cords of friendship, infatuation, and the growing notion that something important was missing.
I’ve never just walked away from Sweetie Belle like this before. I’ll bet she was really upset, but I... hope she doesn’t come by later. I don’t even know what I’d say to her right now. Probably something like, “Hi. I’m upset at you but I’m not sure why, so come back later when looking at you doesn’t make me want to cry.” As the thought completed, punctuated by a slow, pained sigh, Spike closed his eyes a little tighter as he found the facetious contemplation within may hold more truth to it than he first imagined.
Something feels... wrong. Despite an upbringing where he all but bathed in a sea of knowledge, his scholarly friend constantly ranting with foal-like excitement about this new spell and that new fascinating morsel of intellectual delight for the world around, Spike couldn’t quite seem to attach any more details or describe the doubts clawing at his conscience with any greater articulation. Sweetie Belle’s romantic desires were quite openly on display more often than not, but that was never what Spike had found most appealing about her. The notion of actually managing to maintain a minimal level of sentience long enough to partake in the enthralling wonder held in high esteem among all coming of age pre-teens, the mythical first kiss, had originally filled his young heart with nearly enough wonder to make him soar, but now was just a blight on a schedule filled on every time slot with “insert artificial romance here.” If being somepony’s coltfriend simply meant getting the blunt end of an increase in moodiness and quailing under the hoof of a filly’s trumped up dreams with no regard to his own, then what was the point?
While the realization and interpretation of all these things were far beyond one so young, his heart could feel much deeper than his mind could comprehend, and thus the weight remained without a clear explanation or slightest notion of how to go about fixing the matter, or if he should even try. I just... want things to go back to the way they were. Back when we would laugh, and tease, and hang out with Scootaloo and Applebloom and get into trouble... Even when we squabbled a little, it was better than this. Reptilian eyes cracked open as Spike slowly dropped his claw from snout to heart, a sudden wave of longing confirming something within that last thought to be more meaningful than he once assumed. The way things were... What Spike wanted, even if he couldn't quite make out the signs, wasn't to abandon his romantic endeavors with the filly that, even while he trembled in the midst of depression and doubt, still held his care and affection, but to be reassured from the same filly that in these pursuits, the friendship that meant so much to him wasn't neglected, cast aside, or lost entirely as two hearts took their first tentative steps towards becoming one.
“Spike?” Where once Twilight had simply guessed that her student's lackluster greeting was indicative of little more than exhaustion from a long day playing with friends, the mare knew that there must be more as she crested the top step just in time to see Spike roll away from her. Instantly concerned, Twilight plodded gently over and took a seat beside the basket that would be a bed. It's not much, but he's definitely been growing. That thing looks a little... cramped. Agitation couldn't stop Spike from being slightly bewildered as he was gently lifted into the air, and while he stubbornly resolved within himself not to open his eyes until Twilight prodded him with something a little more than just his name, he failed even at this as a brilliant flash of lavender light lit the darkness behind closed eyes, and he was gently lowered down onto something much softer and spacious than his cradle. Twilight offered little more than a gentle smile as Spike glanced around at the spare bed that was kept in the basement, the very same that Applejack and Rarity had christened with their bickering and subsequent reconciliation.
“I...” Spike didn't really know what to say, so sudden was the shift, but there was understanding in Twilight's eyes as she climbed up and lay before him, waiting patiently for him to find his words. Where once he had felt that his confusion was capped out, the tears beading his eyes now informed Spike that he was in this mistaken, and again he found himself unable to articulate what it was he wished to say, but as he was drawn into a gentle embrace, he said what two words stood out the most. “Thanks, Twilight...”
“It's just a bed...” Twilight murmured, squeezing a little tighter as a small convulsion confirmed that a sense of humor still remained within her troubled assistant. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Something tells me that would kinda be like asking me to recite poetry with my tongue wrapped around a lamppost in the dead of winter,” Spike muttered, shaking his head a little.
“Don't go selling yourself short, now,” Twilight urged, releasing her charge and waving a cautionary hoof before him with a comically stern look of disapproval plastered over her grin. “What you just said right there was smarter than most of the things you... wait, no, that didn't come out right...”
“Remind me again how that's supposed to make me feel better?” Spike said, chuckling a little as he hung his head. “I guess that was a little mel... melodrum...”
“Melodramatic!” Twilight quipped, clapping her hooves in appreciation for Spike's attempt to expand his vocabulary. “And no, what you said was poetic because you weren't overdoing it or trying to put on a show. And while my little Spike may have himself a little bit of an attitude with just the teeniest smidgen of a show off, you’re no Trixie.”
“Remind me again what this has to do with me being upset?”
“I... have no idea,” Twilight conceded, wearing her momentary bewilderment openly. “Oh well! I’m sure I had a point in there somewhere, and in the meantime, we can move on to other things! So... you’re upset?” It was inevitable trying to keep anything from Twilight, and Spike begrudgingly resigned himself to be read like a book and analyzed with feverish scrutiny, all under the motherly gaze of the resident librarian.
“If I have to be honest, which I know I do... I’m fed up, Twilight.” The lavender unicorn instantly shed what remained of a light-hearted intro as she gave Spike her full attention. Visibly uncomfortable, refusing eye contact, and fidgeting with his claws, Spike spoke slowly as he painstakingly pieced together what it was he wished to say. “When I first started hanging out with Sweetie Belle, it was loads of fun. We’d just do whatever, whenever, and have a blast even when we got on each other’s nerves. Now... it just seems like every day is just her trying to trap me into a kiss.”
“Odd that you’re complaining about getting kissed,” Twilight offered with a slight smile, hoping to lighten the dragon’s spirit’s but quickly realized as he turned a worried eye to hers that now was neither the time nor place for levity. Upon seeing the mare looking down at him with a muzzle full of sympathy, he swiveled around to face his mentor, desperate to find an answer.
“Twilight, believe me, I’d like a kiss as much as every other guy,” Spike admitted, blushing slightly at the admission. “But I don’t want that to be all my relationship with Sweetie Belle is. Ever since she admitted that she likes me, it’s become more and more of a problem. It seems like every day, sometimes more than once, I get shoved into some awkward situation just so she can have a ‘perfect moment,’ or whatever.” As Spike fell silent, taking a few moments for his mind to continue unraveling the tangled knot tugging at his chest, Twilight reached in, as if by magic, and separated the threads, her wisdom and experience spelling out what he’d been trying to put into words the whole evening.
“It sounds to me like you’re hurting because you feel like Sweetie Belle’s pursuit of romance is driving you apart as friends,” Twilight said softly, her countenance falling as Spike’s outward shock confirmed her inner fears. “It’s easy to become so absorbed by desire that we lose sight of what’s really important. I’m sure Sweetie Belle isn’t trying to make you feel this way... Have you tried talking to her?”
“I don’t even know what I’d have said. I didn’t want to hurt her...” Unable to bear seeing the young pony trapped in scales looking so defeated, Twilight disappeared in a flash of pale light, only to reappear a short while later with Sugarcube Corner’s finest confection.
“Eat this quickly before Dawn sees,” Twilight urged, floating the cupcake into eager claws and making a mental note to take the Cakes a few bits the following morning. “Now, while the magic of baking drives away your stress, I’d like to offer you some advice about friendship.” Spike took a bite and nodded, relishing the sweetness as he licked some frosting from his claws. “I know you’d never try to hurt Sweetie Belle, or any other pony for that matter, but how is she supposed to know she’s upsetting you if you don’t say anything?”
“I thought girls knew everything,” Spike replied, chuckling half-heartedly as Twilight rolled her eyes before breaking into a grin.
“Not all of us are mind readers,” Twilight assured him, pleased to see a sense of humor yet remained. “I’ll tell you what; why don’t you take some time to yourself tomorrow? Go for a walk, think things through, and when you’re ready, try talking things out with Sweetie Belle. Oh, and I’ll have a talk with Rarity,” she added with a wink. “While not always pleasant, Rarity is a master of persuasion, and if, for some bizarre reason, Sweetie Belle isn’t receptive to your feelings... well, I’m sure she’ll listen to her sister. For hours, most likely.”
“Is... is cupcakes!” Alas, the time for instruction drew to a close along with the peace as one foal’s olfactory senses proved once more their inherent alignment to the path of sugar, prompting Dawn’s mad scramble of the stairs and immediate tackling of the cupcake haver. Bowled from his place of rest by an indigo streak and a mass of mane, Spike was left with no choice but to relinquish what remained of his cupcake as Dawn unashamedly jammed the confection into her mouth, munching happily without a care in the world as Cerulean trotted up the steps after her.
“Dawn, what have I told you about heartless bereavement of another pony’s dessert?” the stallion chided in a fatherly tone. “Now, what do you say to Spike?” Turning to Spike with a muzzle smeared in frosting and a late in coming expression of guilty indulgence, the filly dispelled what remained of tension as she reluctantly spat out what hadn’t been swallowed and offered it up with both hooves and wide eyes.
“Daddy says I not ‘posed t’ steal cupcakes. No steal, see? I jus chewed it for you!”
“Excuse me, miss. Is Pipsqueak in?” Nurse Redheart looked up from the reception desk as Gale’s smooth voice and proper manner quite easily swayed her from the medical charts she was checking over for the umpteenth time. Ponyville, while a place of antics, was rarely one of injuries, and thus boredom was the norm, and Gale’s interruption was a welcome change of pace as the mare took a moment to compose herself, wipe a small amount of drool from the charts that had functioned as stand in pillows, and nodded with a smile.
“Yes, he’s here. He came back a little while ago, though he seemed fairly shaken up,” Redheart recalled, standing and beckoning the stallion to follow. “I’m used to seeing him rush all over the place, shouting about this, that, and the other, but that poor colt must have gotten into something he shouldn’t have.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, his cheeks were bright red,” Redheart stated, unable to keep a small giggle from escaping. “He is getting to be about that age, so I can only assume that it had something to do with a filly. Probably fled for his life after saying something he shouldn’t have. I wouldn’t think he’d cross any physical boundaries, though,” Redheart asserted with great confidence as they stopped outside the door. “Everyone around here knows that just about everything he says is an act. He’s actually quite the gentlecolt, if he stops swinging his sword around long enough to show it.”
“Yer preachin’ t’ the choir, lass,” Gale replied, accompanied by respectful laughter. “All the lad needs is a little guidance. It’s a good thing I think he’s already got his eye on a lass, an’ a dangerous one at that, because the moment that colt learns t’ balance himself a little, the fillies are gonna be linin’ up in droves, each one waitin’ fer him t’ make ‘em swoon.” Redheart’s laughter trailed down the hall as the rejuvenated mare returned to the reception desk, and Gale quieted himself as he prepared to assume the role of commodore once more. While a stallion of few assumptions and plentiful calculated guesses, the flightless pegasus found himself baffled as he entered, only to have a still faintly rosy cheeked Pipsqueak whirl around to face him with no fewer than five thermometers jammed under his tongue.
“Uh... ye feelin’ all right there, lad?” Gale was swift, bolting forward to catch the incriminating apparati as Pipsqueak spooked and spat them out. Catching all but one, which he kept from breaking by shooting out one of his mangled wings and letting roll down to the floor, the stallion examined each to find they clearly indicated a faint increase in temperature that couldn’t possibly denote a fever but still proved that something was off, and Pipsqueak sat wide-eyed as thoughts of a graceful filly threw a wrench into the gears attempting to shift back to pirate mode. “Ye must be flounderin’ pretty bad if ye could mistake these fer lollipops,” Gale teased, setting down the thermometers on the counter and turning back to Pipsqueak, no longer simply thinking of Scootaloo but also of the subject of lollipops and how he could still, if he tried, almost feel the filly’s drunken affection with his hoof. This did not bode well for his sentience, and he blinked himself out of a lovestruck daze as a shift signalled his fearless leader taking a seat beside him. “What’s on yer mind, mate? Ain’t gonna be good fer an adventure lookin’ like that.”
Ahoy, I’m always ready fer adventure! Ye should know that by now, commodore! There ain’t nothin’ or nopony that could keep me from sailin’ the winds o’ fame an’ fortune with ye! “Scootaloo.” Wait, what? That didn’t come out right...
“Aye, I figured as much,” Gale murmured, joining the colt in staring at the bleak white walls. This isn’t the place fer anypony to have to spend their childhood, let alone somepony chock full of imagination. It was for that very reason that Gale had come, and he found himself slightly nervous as he spared Pipsqueak further confusion by shifting away from the filly subject. “Have ye eaten?”
“Nay, I’ve been battlin’ a right strange fever fer the last little while here,” Pipsqueak replied after finding his voice. “Now that ye mention it... I’m starving!”
“Well then, if it pleases the captain, how would ye feel about dining with me tonight?”
“Gosh, really?!?” Pipsqueak exclaimed, his features coming alive as he followed up with a short whoop before catching himself, covering his mouth with a hoof and a look of consternation before continuing again after a short cough. “Ye wish t’ invite me back t’ yer cabin fer a spot o’ grub?” Pipsqueak clarified, a growing excitement stamping out what remained of silly things like honest sentiment as Gale nodded. Being taught manners, plundering techniques, and other traits associated with being a brigand of class was one thing, but to be specifically requested to dine with somepony above the level of captain? Gale broke into a grin as the colt found elation again difficult to restrain as he cheered for a few seconds before stifling his excitement and preserving what was left of his dignity, though he had little cause to act for Gale. “I would be honored t’ dine with ye, Commodore.” A soft-hearted stallion’s smile grew yet wider at the monicker, unable to ascertain who was doing who the honor.
“Nay, lad, the pleasure is all mine,” Gale chuckled, stooping down so he could meet the colt at his own level. “I know ye’ve likely just arrived, and ye may have plans an’ the like, but if ye wish t’ partake, then the time is now.” Wasting no time, Pipsqueak stowed his garb and was soon trotting proudly next to Gale as they left the clinic and began their walk towards Gale’s abode.
“Isn’t it a little early t’ be takin’ supper?” Pipsqueak remarked, raising his eyes skyward. Even though it was Autumn and the sun was starting to set sooner, Pipsqueak guessed that it was likely only around six in the evening despite the onset of night. He calculated a good three hours of adventuring was left to be had, though the thought of being able to spend some more time with Gale and have some real food as opposed to his regular courses at the clinic was too enticing to pass up.
“Aye, I suppose it may be for some,” Gale replied, straightening up and beckoning the colt to follow. “Mayor Mare has me on night watch, so I typically have to take my meals a wee bit sooner than most. Can’t patrol on an empty stomach.”
“Well, o’ course not!” Pipsqueak agreed, shaking his head and, perhaps, showing off just a little for a stallion held in high esteem. “That’d be like settin’ sail without loadin’ the provisions! What a mess that would be. Can you imagine bein’ captain and findin’ a whole horde o’ hungry ponies bangin’ on yer cabin door, askin’ fer grub? It’d be the plank fer sure!”
“Plank?” Gale retorted, laughing heartily. “Have ye set sail with a bunch o’ prissy ponies that’ve never swung a sword, mate? Nay, the plank would be far too soft a punishment fer such a short-sighted buffoon of a captain. Ye’d be lucky if ye ended up gull food strapped t’ the mast fer that.”
“Really?” Pipsqueak replied, awed and slightly taken aback. They never did anything like that in the books I’ve read... Are pirates really such a bad sort? “That doesn’t sound very... um...”
“It doesn’t bear thinkin’ about, lad, and especially not before dinner,” Gale continued, glancing down at the colt with a fond eye and noting with great appreciation the innocence buried within the facade that was all too transparent to his discerning eye. Gale was no psychic: he couldn’t say for sure why it was that Pipsqueak hid behind the mask of a false persona, but if the thought of using ponies as gull food, a relatively tame fate given some of the stories he knew, was enough to put Pipsqueak on edge, then Gale felt he could safely assume that Pipsqueak wasn’t the scoundrel he presented himself to be. “Don’t ye worry, lad. Yer crew would never dream o’ doin’ such a thing. I’ve seen ye with yer crew, and ye have their respect. Especially a certain little look out ye seem to do a fair bit o’ watchin’ of yerself, eh?”
Just how much does this stallion know, anyways? I’ve only seen him a few times, but it’s like... he knows everything! “...is it really that obvious, Commodore?” Pipsqueak asked, chancing a rueful grin as Gale paused outside a house on the edges of town. It was nothing special, just an average, single story Ponyville style house, though it was interesting to note that it was painted a shade of blue quite similar to Luna’s mane.
“Don’t fret, lad. I’ve no plans t’ interrogate me accomplice in trainin’, but if ye ever need a pony t’ listen should you need to speak yer mind, ye can always come by. And if ye need advice when it comes t’ taming a lass, well...” Gale paused, throwing open the door and peering in at his faithful fillyfriend and soon to be fiancé, little did the lime coated mare know. “Ye may have t’ look elsewhere, lad. I’m still learnin’ how t’ hold the reins meself.”
“Hah! Like you ever held them in the first place,” the mare laughed, instantly garnering Pipsqueak’s respect for making such a bold claim as she trotted over to meet the colt of which Gale spoke so highly. Her coat was a bright green with just a tinge of yellow, and her mane matched the deep orange eyes that burned with a fierce independence Pipsqueak likened to a certain magenta-maned filly that drifted through his thoughts in loops and dives more often than he cared to admit.
“Pipsqueak, this is me fillyfriend, Cloudburn,” Gale explained, trotting over and taking his place beside the mare. “I’d say she ain’t as scary as she looks, but then, I try t’ be honest; she’s a right terror.”
“Gee, you sure know how to flatter a mare,” Cloudburn murmured, holding her head high as she approached and dipped her head low. “You’re Pipsqueak, huh? Nice to meetcha.” Pipsqueak glanced at the offered hoof and then back up at the mare, noting that she most certainly had to be every bit as tough as she presented herself to be, given that her wings were just as mangled as Gale’s.
Whoa, this is Gale’s fillyfriend? She’s, like... intense. Cool! “Ye have me respect, lass,” Pipsqueak replied, shaking her hoof heartily and growing confused as she began to laugh once more, shooting a pointed look back at Gale to accompany her trademark smirk.
“Respect? More than I get from that one.”
“Ach, away with ye,” Gale replied, shrugging off the accusation with a grin. “Don’t ye know it’s bad form t’ speak ill of somepony’s rankin’ officer in their presence? Insubordination, lass.”
“It would only be insubordination if you ranked above me,” Cloudburn replied dismissively, shooting Gale a wink and turning back to the colt regarding her with opened-mouthed awe, bordering reverence for the sheer awesomeness of the mare’s audacity. Sassing the commodore, and getting away with it? Cool Points: acquired. “Welcome to our home, Pipsqueak. Oh, and Gale? Try not to wreck the place before I finish cooking, all right?” she called over her shoulder, completely calm as she sauntered towards the kitchen. As Gale pondered what kind of an impression the mare was attempting to make on Pipsqueak, he found himself unable to respond properly as commodore in the wake of the colt’s conclusion.
“Gale, I don’t think you’ll ever put the reins on her.” There was a clatter from the kitchen to accompany a mare’s jovial laughter as Cloudburn dropped a pan, and Gale could only grin, all too aware of this fact and embracing it wholeheartedly. Time passed quickly as Gale and Pipsqueak swapped tall tales and boasted daring feats of bravery, and it wasn’t long before Cloudburn ushered them into the dining room. Gale glanced over at Cloudburn as she set the table, making brief eye contact and giving the mare a reassuring nod. While not visible save to one who had known her, the mare was quite nervous about how she was being received by the colt, and she thanked her coltfriend internally for the boost in confidence as she finished up and took her place beside Gale, taking slight comfort in the fact that Pipsqueak was drooling even before taking the first bite.
“Gale, yer dame sure can turn out the vittles!”
“Manners, lad,” Gale chuckled as he grabbed for a warm pretzel stick and poured a small amount of dipping sauce into a bowl. “If ye truly find the meal t’ be t’ yer likin’, then ye best treat the lady with a wee bit more respect than any ol’ sea dog.”
“Huh, that makes sense,” Pipsqueak murmured, turning back to Cloudburn who was already quite excited that, manners or not, she’d made an impression on the colt. “Miss Cloudburn? Um, everything looks and smells really good.”
“Bet it’ll taste even better,” she replied enthusiastically, setting a slice of pizza on Pipsqueak’s plate and watching with hopeful eyes. It was soon proven that her lack of confidence was really quite unnecessary, as the small portion of food she’d laid out for the colt was downed in record time along with an eager, though polite, request for more. While normally the one viewed as entertainment, Pipsqueak couldn’t help but be both amused and entertained with his commodore and his first mate as they bantered back and forth, and where once feelings of trepidation had clouded the experience, within a very short while Pipsqueak’s awkward nervousness was replaced by a strange sense of belonging that was as confusing as it was welcoming.
“Yarr, who dares disturb the captain’s feast?” Pipsqueak was learning a great many things in his stay with Gale, most notably that his manners would need to be given some work, and as he sprayed a few crumbs of roasted veggie pizza addressing the sudden knock on the front door, a mare hoof shot out and covered his maw. This, accompanied by a look both caring and fierce, bid him refrain from further shouting with a mouthful of food. “Sorry, Miss Cloudburn,” came the dutiful apology as the colt cleared his throat and looked appropriately apologetic.
“No worries; you’re learning quickly,” she replied, wiping her hoof on a napkin and smiling sweetly. “Gale, would you mind?”
“Nay, but me half-filled gut might have a word or two for ye,” the stallion chuckled, rising from his seat and trotting to the door, where he found not Storm or one of his other friends, but Mayor Mare. “Good evening, mayor! What brings ye by me humble abode?” Gale inquired, bowing with a flourish.
“I apologize for showing up unannounced, but there seems to be a... ‘complication’ with your inquiry.” Receiving a nod from Cloudburn, Gale quietly excused himself and closed the door behind him before giving Mayor Mare the go ahead to continue. “Firstly, let me say that I am absolutely delighted that somepony, especially an upstanding citizen such as yourself, would seek to take Pipsqueak in as their own child. However, as I was setting up the proper paperwork, as per your request, I found that there is... an additional constraint.”
“Constraint, eh?” Gale mused, putting a hoof under his chin. “I know I’m not exactly rollin’ in bits, but a third pony in my...”
“Oh, it has nothing to do with finances, I assure you,” Mayor Mare interjected. “It’s just, well... read this, if you would.” Gale accepted the paper gingerly only to find himself somewhat baffled by the words within, not on account of complexity, but simply that they were what they were, and the royal seal ascertained that there was no question as to the document’s authenticity. Mayor Mare would have been visibly nervous were it not for many years acting as mayor and dealing with no small number of bizarre occurrences; she knew of Pipsqueak’s situation, but the requirements laid out within that single page were intimidating, to say the least. “I’ll understand if you need some time to think...”
“Think?” Gale murmured, shaking his head and giving the paper back, grinning widely. “There ain’t a thing t’ think about, Mayor. Only thing I need to worry about is getting myself a ticket t’ Canterlot first thing tomorrow mornin’.”
“So then, you still intend to move forward with the adoption?” the Mayor pressed, unable to keep the excitement from her voice. As if in answer, cordial laughter rang out from within the house, and Gale cracked open the door so she could see inside. Pipsqueak was learning that flying his flag, in this case a slice of pizza, too close to Cloudburn resulted in immediate partial consumption. Flying a flag with a giant bite taken out of it was just plain embarrassing, which the colt went on to explain at length while Cloudburn relinquished another slice to the colt along with some sage advice about hungry mares and waving food in their faces. With no argument left and nothing but a warmed heart full of gratitude to the couple stepping up to face a daunting challenge, Mayor Mare turned back to Gale as he began to speak with a smile as wide as his.
“That colt has been waiting far too long t’ have a family, an’ I intend t’ give ‘im that. If that means a tussle with royalty, then they’d best be prepared. If ye can, send off whatever letters an’ such need t’ be sent tonight, because tomorrow afternoon... I have a duel with a princess.”
As evening grew deeper and the moon rose into view, draping a quieting town with its gentle glow, Rumble quietly followed Applebloom as she wordlessly led them away from the chamber of calamity that was her house and into the quiet streets of Ponyville. Coming to the bridge that spanned a small river flowing through the town, the filly flopped onto her back, threw out her hooves, and let out a long sigh, utterly exhausted and grateful that things were finally over. In all honesty, Rumble was rather taken aback at how out of hoof things had become in such a short time span, and could readily understand the fatigue written all over the filly’s muzzle as she let out a tremendous yawn. Quietly, he took a seat by her side, joining her in mutual appreciation of something that had been so scarce that day that it nearly seemed to be a thing of legend or myth, but was theirs to share as crickets sang a symphony of serenity for the young ponies wrapped in the tranquility of dusk: peace.
“Ah don’t think ah’ve ever had an evenin’ go so awry in all mah days...” Applebloom murmured wearily, peering up at the stars. There was something about seeing the starlight reflected upon already brilliant amber eyes that gently called the colt to maintain the quietude, and as the celestial bodies danced and twinkled on a cloudless night, Rumble was helpless to do much else but simply sit in quiet adoration as an incredible feeling welled within his chest. It grew in proportion to the duration that he gazed upon a simple filly, her soft lamentations missing the colt’s ears entirely as he was drawn in by every quirk and nuance he’d learned of the girl half-heartedly shaking a hoof at the sky. Transfixed by her gaze that softened upon noticing the awe with which she was being bestowed, Rumble blinked again as Applebloom rolled onto her stomach, glanced down at the water, and slowly lifted her gaze to his.
“You didn’t hear anythin’ ah just said, did ya?”
“Nuh uh...” Rumble replied in bashful admittance, dropping his gaze. For a time, the only sound that was heard was the ambient chorus of the evensong, but the gentle thump of soft hoofbeats preceded by quiet laughter bid the colt lift his head to find that the twin mirrors into which he had peered to catch sight of Luna’s splendor had grown while his proximity to the filly had diminished. Applebloom held his gaze as she took her place beside him, and a timid smile formed as she savored the sensation blossoming within as she began to speak.
“Yer somethin’ else, Rumble...” Applebloom said softly, scooting just a fraction closer. She didn’t have any real plans, no ulterior motives or desires that she could realize on a conscious level, but her heart certainly seemed to think she was up to something as it promptly decided that it was time for the Running of the Leaves, and she belonged at the head of the pack. It sure is odd that ah’m shiverin’, ‘cause ah feel about as cold as a pie fresh out o’ the oven. “Are you really not bothered by everythin’ that happened tonight?”
“Nuh uh...” Despite the setting, Applebloom couldn’t help but be a little skeptical of the colt’s expected, though debatable, response to her question, but she lay open and defenseless for the sheer honesty stitching together a quilt of gracious adoration, laid across her shoulders to keep her safe from the cool of the night. Rumble wasn’t putting on a show, and he certainly wasn’t trying to shift matters of the heart teased and never tackled into the spotlight with eloquence or dramatization, but speak he did, and for every word a portion of her tension was wiped away.
“Applebloom, I’ll admit that there were some things that were kind of uncomfortable...” Rumble began, nodding slightly as Applebloom did the same. “If those things didn’t happen, we probably wouldn’t be here, sharing this time together. I’d do it all again if it meant I got to spend a few more minutes like this with you.” Even in the dimness of night, Rumble could see the coloration shift to a pleasant, rosen hue as the filly simply stared for a time, speechless. Applebloom didn’t need her sister to act as a living lie detector, because between the colt’s crossed hooves and dazzling eyes, she knew there wasn’t the slightest trace of an untruth contained within his words.
“Rumble, ah...” Ah can’t keep actin’ like he ain’t anythin’ more than a playmate, not after everythin’ that happened today. Ah really... am special t’ him, an’ special don’t even begin t’ cover the way ah feel ‘bout him... A gentle breeze, warm and comforting, drifted over with every breath, and Applebloom slowly allowed her eyes to close as she yielded to the urge to finally say what needed to be said. Passion like fire mingled with the blood coursing through Applebloom’s veins as she opened her eyes to once more gaze upon the colt awash with moonlight. Rumble’s breath caught as she closed the distance between them, wrapping her hooves around his neck and squeezing gently as she let out a quiet whimper, overcome by the sensations and emotions culminating in an admittance that, even after a short week, felt like it had been years in coming.
“Ah really... l-like you, Rumble...” Applebloom could never have anticipated the relief that came from finally coming out with it, but a weight she hadn’t known to be weighing her down was lifted in a moment, and despite her heritage as an earth pony, the spirit of a wingless filly soared amongst the stars in the sky. The overall mood took a slight hit as the filly found herself unable to contain her jubilation, and with her hooves still encircling a colt blown away, Applebloom’s laughter echoed across the quiet planes, silencing the choir for a time as they listened to a new singer.
“Ah said it! Ah really said it! Oh, this is the best night ever! Did ya hear me, Rumble? Ah said ‘Ah like you!’” Releasing the colt so she could see his shared enthusiasm, she quickly yanked on the reins of her tongue to preserve what was left of romance as she beheld the rosen cheeks of a colt deeply smitten and not bothered in the slightest by the outburst. In fact, short of Appleblom braining him with a mallet, Rumble was certain that not even the intrusion of family or friends could deter him from enjoying the longings within his heart.
Unsure of himself, but confident in each other, the two watched each other for a few short moments before Rumble edged his muzzle a fraction closer, shuddering as a wave of dizziness most delightful sent his vision swirling. Timid, but matching Rumble’s intentions with every racing beat of her heart, Applebloom edged her muzzle forward, gazing deeply into shimmering violet eyes that shone with gentleness, kindness, and purity purer than newfallen snow. With unspoken agreement, eyes closed and two hearts touched amid a shower of sparks as they made the final push together. The ripple of the waters faded along with the rest of the world as there, in that moment, all that existed for the young filly and colt was a moment of tenderness amidst the chaos: a heartfelt first kiss, shared beneath a sea of stars.
The moment seemed to last forever, and yet as the two pulled away and Rumble slipped trembling hooves around the filly taking in short, rapid breaths at the command of a racing heart, it felt like it hadn’t lasted nearly long enough. At the same time, while Applebloom sunk deeper into Rumble’s embrace, she knew that it had been as close to perfect as any filly could hope for, and honestly? She wasn’t the slightest bit surprised. While the colt may have a frightful knack for breaking things, Applebloom was absolutely confident that the one thing that he would never break was her heart. Rumble couldn’t say for sure why the filly was now giggling softly in his hooves, but it was a joyful sound at the end of a royally disastrous day, so he shrugged away the questions and joined in, simply grateful to know Applebloom was well.
"Ah... ah guess this means you like me too, then?" Applebloom said quietly, relaxing her grip a little as Rumble tightened his.
"Uh huh." Confident, yet nervous, soft spoke but carrying with it power that sent a surge of delight through Applebloom from mane to hoof, it was exactly what the filly wanted to hear. Her sister's voice, however, was not.
“Well, Applebloom, that was right-” Applebloom didn’t even have time to annunciate the “oh hay, Rumble, hide before mah sister sees an’ does a jig on yer face” forming within her mind, the colt did what any young male caught in such a situation would do: get the hay out of there. At the sound of Applejack’s voice, Rumble attempted to leap the guardrail, but in his haste made no slight miscalculation and instead crashed into it headlong, landing himself on his back in a heap of groans and feathers. “Good grief, ah’m not that scary, am ah?” Applejack murmured, joining Applebloom as she peered down after the colt with her mouth slightly agape.
“Yeah, Applejack, ya kinda are!” Applebloom called out, immediately at Rumble’s side to make sure he hadn’t sprained a wing, broken a hoof, dislodged a shoulder, or any number of other injuries that she imagined could result from his dashingly heroic though haphazardly executed diversion. “Rumble? Quick, how many hooves am ah holdin’ up?”
“Uh huh?”
“That ain’t a number, Rumble.”
“Nuh uh...” he argued feebly, wincing as he accepted the offered hoof upright. “So, um, we should probably...”
“Stop freakin’ out long enough fer me t’ speak, most likely,” Applejack interjected, trotting over and taking a seat before the two. “First of all, we all saw the kiss, so if that’s what y’all are freakin’ out about, ya can rest easy. Applebloom’s earned it, and ah woulda been right sore fer her if ya hadn’t delivered.” Ever the more articulate of the two, Rumble shared a look of absolute bafflement with Applebloom before turning back to Applejack and presenting his well-structured justification for his actions.
“...huh?” He paused, rubbing the abrasion on his forehead as he noticed a frightening article contained within the mare’s statement. “Wait, what do you mean by ‘we?’”
“Eeee~!” Like a light purple thunderbolt, Flitter dropped from the sky with frightening speed, snatching Rumble into her arms and squealing with uncontrollable glee. “You were so adorable! I... it just... the kissing, and... yeee~!”
“Flitter, put me down!” Rumble begged, struggling frantically to escape the mare’s vice grip. “You’re only going to make it worse...” As Cloudchaser dropped down opposite Applejack, with Silver and Thunderlane bringing up the rear, Rumble ceased his struggle and stared miserably at the ground, awaiting his sentence.
“Sheesh, what’d you do to make Rumble so scared of you, Applejack?” Cloudchaser asked, glancing at Rumble who, quite honestly, looked like he’d just been banished from Applebloom’s company for good.
“Ah guess it shouldn’t come as any surprise ah’ve got ‘im so on edge, given how ah presented mahself when we first met...” Applejack recounted with a rueful smile as she walked over and motioned for Rumble to be set down. The mare paused in silent assessment of the colt for a very long and uncomfortable second or two before giving him a warm smile and continuing. “Ah know ah was rather cold t’ the idea o’ you two gettin’ close, but if anypony can sit through what you both have tonight an’ still want anythin’ other than a restrainin’ order, then there must be a bond deeper than silly infatuation or other such nonsense.” The mare’s words were almost as cathartic as an ice pack would have been, and Applejack shared in a little of Applebloom’s joy as she let out a whoop and nearly winded the colt with a titanic embrace.
“Rumble, you’ve proved t’ me you’re willin’ to go through the worst kind of torment fer Applebloom, an’ you have mah respect fer that. Applebloom, it does mah heart well t’ see you so happy, an’ while ah intend full well t’ continue doin’ mah duty as yer big sister, keepin’ you safe an’ walkin’ a proper path, know that ye have mah trust. You both do. Now then,” the mare paused, glancing around at the other ponies with a sly grin that made both wonder what was coming next, “you’ve both been through an awful lot, an’ hard work makes a pony thirsty. Ah’ve already talked t’ Thunderlane, so ah only have one question for y’all; who’s up fer a drop o’ cider?” A horrifying experience laid to rest, a much anticipated moment of romantic bonding, the unspoken assurance that, much like their feelings of affection, herself and Rumble were now officially a couple, and free license to get completely bamboozled? Applebloom couldn’t have been a happier filly.