Chapter 17: Of Things Gross and Nasty
“Ungh...” Whump. “Unnngh...” For one so laudably dextrous, Scootaloo felt slightly cheated that her day was beginning with a front row seat to a fierce competition in how many different sounds the shattering of a vase could make. After her first critique, she attempted, quite unsuccessfully, to kindly excuse herself from the raucous din, only to find that she was strapped to her seat, her tickets were non-refundable, and she’d have to continue being subjected to auditory torment from her slightly askew position on the the floor. In short? Scootaloo had the biggest headache she’d had since the one time she’d started to daydream while riding her scooter, a rather unpleasant memory which reminded her how displeasing a concrete wall was to the palate, and her motion to run from the dissonance within had landed her face first on the floor. It was nice and cold, though.
Ugh, this is... the worst... And how the hay did my bed get so small? Disregarding her breakthrough in the field of medical sciences and the wonders of how placing her hooves on either side of her smarting cranium and applying pressure did little to aid the pain, but strangely brought her some small amount of comfort, Scootaloo cracked open a bleary eye and stared dumbly at the peculiar shape her bed had taken for a full ten seconds before realizing that she was looking at the couch. That’s... not my bed. And if that’s not my bed, then... Flopping slowly onto her other side, she confirmed that she wasn’t in her room, but splayed out on the living room floor.
It must be pretty early in the morning if nopony else is awake. Wait, why am I even out here? Nothing. Not a single reason so much as designed to tease her restless mind with an answer for a most reasonable inquiry, but Scootaloo wasn’t the patient type. Whatever, I don’t care. I need a shower... Or just a bucket of ice water to stick my head in, because I can’t... Limbs, especially those of a woefully dehydrated and terribly hung over filly, tend to be quite rebellious when given the order to move, and thus her motion to stand landed her in the Sweetie Belle position, hind legs wobbling but holding with her forelegs ardently opposed to any kind of work.
“...Fine. Scoots gonna scoot.” With her chin to the floor and fifty percent functionality of her legs, Scootaloo scooted towards the safety of her room, though attempting to open the door with her face was neither pleasant nor successful, and it was with much incoherent moaning that she pawed her way up to the handle and depressed the lever, landing her on her stomach as the door swung inwards and alerting the filly that nausea had turned on the bubble jets to max. All too aware that her stomach was no place for a spa party, Scootaloo enraged her limbs and made all haste to the bathroom, where she purged herself of nausea and whatever else was partying in the pit of her gut.
Worst... morning... ever. Flushing away a rotten memory, she proceeded to wash away the intrusive taste of food well past its prime with grateful mouthfuls of cool, clean water that felt absolutely divine when she splashed it on her face. She even smiled a little as she thrust her face into the stream and blew some bubbles simply because she could, and she was quite easily entertained when feeling totally out of it. After an appropriate allotment of foal’s play, Scootaloo reluctantly turned off the faucet and wiped her face, peering into the mirror and growing quite baffled as to how sleeping on the couch apparently cured bedmane.
“What the... why is my mane styled?” she said slowly, staring at her reflection that was every bit as confounded as herself. “I’ll have to sleep on the couch more often if this is what it does!” she giggled, running a hoof along her mane combed not up and over as normal, but down around her shoulders. Pleased that it was growing out and yet still able to hold its tomcolt shape when she needed it to, Scootaloo flexed her limbs, tested them with a few hops, and nodded her approval as she pranced out into the center of her room and stopped cold as the first memory of the day prior came floating back.
“Ew ew ew, ugh, where’d that come from?” Scootaloo murmured, shaking her head vigorously for a split second before finding that the invasive train wreck of a band within her head was only spurred to greater efforts by such a thing. “Sweetie Belle was all over Spike yesterday... That was just... just... ugh, somepony needs to have a talk with that filly.” Flopping onto her bed, Scootaloo rolled over and stared at the canopy top with disinterest as the memories of the previous day came filtering back. Even in the safety of solitude, Scootaloo had trouble bringing herself to be honest with a truth she didn’t feel comfortable with: she was just as curious as her friends.
Ok, this is probably a huge longshot, but I wonder if it’s possible that Pipsqueak might... kind of... maybe... have just a little, teensy tiny bit of... “feelings” for me, or whatever? He did say that he wanted to hold my hoof that one time... The mere thought of such a thing made her giddily nauseous, though she chose for the moment to blame the latter on whatever strange illness had taken her. It seems like he’s always a pirate, or sometimes a knight, but I don’t know if I’ve ever really seen him not be... something? I wonder if he ever does calm down? Scootaloo couldn’t well blame him, and the correlation drawn between his acting and her stubborn denial of all things feminine brought a faint hint of a smile to one filly’s muzzle.
Heh, I’ve never really let him see me without an act, either. One day, maybe... There was no need for a facade, there in the protection of four walls, and Scootaloo found herself absent-mindedly stroking her mane as she pondered the consequences, and possible benefits, of stepping out of her comfort zone and into the unknown, a place fraught with peril, danger, and possible mushy moments. Not yet... I don’t think I’m ready just yet. But maybe I could tease him a little? Keep my hair all done up, swish my tail a little... He’d probably start all that proper... stuff... whatever the way he was talking when called me his queen. Looking back, Scootaloo again found herself beaming, even laughing a little as she recalled how oh so very flustered it had made her.
Yeah, definitely not yet. It’d mess up all our adventures if I was getting all lovey dovey on him! That’d just be... boring. And kinda gross. Yeah! Gross... ew. Sliding off her bed and feeling sufficiently recovered enough to face the day, she swung open the door and found that she had overestimated her preparedness by about twenty percent.
“Look who’s finally... finally...” Rainbow Dash couldn’t even finish the sentence before keeling over with laughter, a disconcerting noise to be sure, and one that was readily shared by the black-coated stallion beside her.
“Good morning, sis,” Storm managed, forcing his cachinnation to a simmer so he could speak clearly. “Rough day yesterday?”
“Rough?” Scootaloo exclaimed, shaking her head and again finding it to be a most unpleasant way to vent her frustration. “My head is killing me, I just proved I’m not a lady by keeling over in the bathroom and- it tasted pretty nasty, by the way... And you know what’s the worst part? I don’t even know why!”
“Wait, hold... hold up!” Dash chortled, as irksome to Scootaloo as it was confusing. Simply having her mane brushed didn’t really account for such an explosive display of immature fun having, did it? “You mean... you can’t remember?”
“Oh no, I remember,” Scootaloo assured her. “How could I forget? First I walk in to find Rumble all raring to go, and then see Sweetie Belle with her horn all... and don’t even get me started on Ruby!”
“And then?”
“And then...” And then... And then nausea found its way back. I can’t... remember? Why the hay can’t I remember what happened next? Wait, I can’t remember anything past seeing Silver Spoon kissing Ruby! Rainbow Dash, currently beside herself remembering the drunken filly’s antics which were clearly not part of the filly’s mental scrapbook, couldn’t find the wherewithal to act as a proper mare should when a desperate pre-teen and number one fan’s eyes grow wide with disbelief and pure, raw terror. “Rainbow Dash... what happened?”
“A lot!” came the jovial, ambiguous, and gratingly vexing answer, though a nudge from Storm invoked the mothering sympathy Dash was still working on trying to perfect. “Ok, ok, you came home completely drunk, and were really funny to watch for about fifteen minutes. Then you plumb passed out on the couch, and snored like crazy.”
“Drunk? How did... but... no, nevermind! ‘Fun to watch?’ What’d I do, Rainbow Dash?”
“Why don’t you ask Pipsqueak? He seemed to enjoy the show immensely,” Storm interjected, wincing as Scootaloo did what any vaguely lovestruck filly would do when informed that they had engaged in drunken shenanigans in the presence of their unofficial significant other: she screamed. Loud. And long. In fact, her lung capacity was fairly commendable, as were the windows that all stayed intact through such a piercing howl of dismay.
“Pipsqueak was watching? It’s over! I’ll never be able to show my face around him again!” Scootaloo wailed, throwing herself at the mercy of the floor’s caring embrace. “Hl nvr lk m nw! Uh prly dnc, n shng, n... why did I have to get hammered?!?” Scootaloo yelled, wrenching her face from the floor long enough to lament her regrettable course of action before again applying her face to the floorboards with undue affection.
“Scootaloo, if you’re worried about what he thinks, then go talk to him,” Storm offered, nailing both amused and sympathetic at the same time as he place a hoof, trembling from concealed mirth, upon his sister’s quaking form. “He’ll probably have a good laugh, because you were really freaking silly, but I don’t think you have to worry about him thinking ill of you.”
“Are you kidding?!?” Scootaloo exclaimed, yanking herself upright. “He’s got to think I’m the mushiest sap alive! And why would anypony want to listen to anything I have to say after hearing me sing? I know I suck, ok?” Overwhelmed by the crushing weight of social suicide, the pegasus made like a Wonderbolt and zipped out of the room, hiding her crimson cheeks that would soon be streaked with tears under her pillow. No longer enthralled with teasing his increasingly emotional sister, Storm took a step towards the hall with every intent on doing whatever he could to ease the pain of humiliation. However, there was one pony whose similar fear of public ridicule gave her a deeper understanding of Scootaloo’s plight, and Storm regarded the cyan hoof holding him back with mild confusion as Rainbow Dash decided it was her turn to give her number one fan a pep talk.
“Don’t worry, Storm. I got this one,” Rainbow Dash assured him, making towards the hallway.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, duh. Why would you even ask that?” the mare replied, turning around and shooting the stallion a pointedly baffled glance.
“Rainbow Dash, she’s really torn up. Boasting about your awesomeness isn’t going to...” As a pony, Rainbow Dash was the most aggressive mare Storm had ever known: a trait only made more potent by her pregnancy. The sullen, icy glare with which he was suddenly transfixed cut off the rest of his warning, and while Scootaloo was indeed at the top of her priority list, she wasn’t about to let her reputation be tarnished, and by her husband no less.
“I allow a pretty lenient amount of stupid to escape your mouth, but if you were to continue accusing me of being incapable of telling the difference between a time for pumping up and a time for band aids, I would seriously have to maul you within an inch of your life. Now, is there anything else, or can I go help my little sis?”
“...you’re right, I’m sorry, Dashie. I just... Scootaloo is...” Hay, she’s growling? Is she really that moody today? I just wanna help my sister... “...Sorry.” Rainbow Dash maintained her incriminating gaze before a double buck to her gut informed her that she may be coming down to hard on the stallion, and she turned her attention to her swollen stomach in reluctant acceptance of her chastisement.
“Yeah, yeah, I was out of line. I get it, you two. I’ll apologize after I talk to Scootaloo, ok?” This seemed to satisfy the twins who immediately settled down and were likely giving each other high hooves for a mother well corrected as the mare shed every scrap of superiority and pride, trading them in for the softer side of herself she was still trying to get comfortable with. Scootaloo and herself were similar in many ways, a fact that wasn’t lost on her as she climbed up beside the filly and draped a wing of her lightly shaking form. “Rough way to start the day, huh?”
“Mmph...” came the groan, muffled by the pillow that Scootaloo held to her face.
“I know what it’s like to be scared too, you know,” Rainbow Dash admitted after due contemplation of the filly’s condition. Scootaloo slowly pulled away the pillow just enough to peer up at Rainbow Dash through glassy eyes, still hiding her burning cheeks but at least showing she was paying attention. “Back before I was a Wonderbolt, even before I had met your brother, there was a competition held in Cloudsdale. I knew the Wonderbolts would be there, and I’d been practicing my Sonic Rainboom, like, every day, but I still hadn’t managed to do another since the very first time by the start of the competition. I- can you keep a secret?”
“Well, I think-”
“Seriously, if this gets out, I may have to do something awful to you,” Rainbow Dash pressed, holding the filly captive with a dangerous intensity burning in her eyes before chuckling a little, accepting the pillow tossed at her face with dignity. “Eh, Storm would never let me get away with anything drastic anyways,” she continued with a grin as she returned the downy projectile to its sender, “so you should be safe. The truth is, I was so nervous to go out in front of all those ponies that I kept swapping my number with the other contestants. By the time the last number came, I was... kinda...”
“What?”
“...hiding in the back, shaking like crazy, ok?” the fabled flier said, cringing. “I can tell by the blank stare that I kinda just blew your mind. Even now, I still get nervous before shows, and if it weren’t for your brother, I don’t know that I’d have the strength to step out onto the stage. My question for you, Scootaloo, is this: what exactly are you afraid of?”
“I never said anything about being afraid,” she said stubbornly, averting her gaze.
“...seriously? I just came out with one of my most humiliating memories, and you’re going to sit there and tell me that I don’t know what I’m talking about? You’re terrified, Scootaloo. It’s pretty obvious.” Scootaloo opened her mouth to assert that, yes, she was going to be that stubborn, but fell quiet as she beheld her idol peering down at her with genuine concern, all traces of mirth having been laid aside. “I can’t... stand the thought of other ponies laughing at me. I never wanted to lose or let anypony down, so I forced myself to get stronger. Storm’s... told me why you’ve been fighting so hard against being ladylike outside the house, but there’s more to it, isn’t there?”
“I...” Words failed the filly as she scrambled to produce an acceptable response, but a deep question required equally thorough soul searching, and thus she fell quiet as Rainbow Dash moved in for the hug. Sheltered under soft blue wings, Scootaloo set aside her inhibitions and delved deep, knowing that no matter how weak or silly the answer was, Rainbow Dash could handle it. The answer, she soon found, was closer to the surface than she thought.
“R-rejection...” A shiver prompted a tighter hold as a filly slowly put together the pieces that she’d purposely left unconnected, shoved in the corner of her mind where she hoped she’d never have to deal with it. “Applebloom, Sweetie Belle, and everypony else... they’ve only seen a girl who’s more prone to fight than dress up. If I just suddenly come out with it that I’m totally into girly things too, what’ll they think? What if they don’t accept it? It’s not worth losing my friends to...” Rainbow Dash could feel within herself the filly’s fear as she choked on her words, falling silent as she buried her muzzle into her idol’s chest.
Awww, Scoots... You’re not gonna let me out of this without making me get all sappy, are you? Sniffing a little, Rainbow Dash took a deep breath and gently pried Scootaloo’s face away so she could look the filly in the eyes. “If ponies can’t accept you- all of you, for who you are, then they aren’t worth keeping around. I know that sounds harsh, but it’s true. Applebloom and Sweetie Belle already know, you’ve told me before. I know a thing or two about friendship, and they’re never gonna turn their backs on you ever.”
“I know, but...” Scootaloo managed, struggling to accept that she was just a hair shy of bawling in front of her hero. “What about... about...” Pipsqueak... Imagining the loss of the colt’s friendship, even for a moment, was enough to force her eyes closed in a desperate attempt to stem the resulting flood.
“This is about Pipsqueak, isn’t it...” Dash said quietly, placing a fond hoof on the filly’s head as she feebly pounded the bed with a hoof.
“It isn’t... isn’t fair...” Scootaloo grit out, hanging her head and watching the tears fall to the sheets. “Why do I care so much about one... stupid colt?”
“I dunno, but that’s not the question to answer right now,” Rainbow Dash replied, setting a hoof under the filly’s chin and guiding teary eyes to her own with a gentleness few had the luxury of witnessing. “Scootaloo, you’re beautiful either way. You don’t need anypony that can’t appreciate the whole, but they won’t be able to if you never let them see both sides. You’re not the only one who’s scared.”
“I don’t... understand, Rainbow Dash...”
“Think about it, Scootaloo. Pipsqueak attacked your dad the first time he saw him, out-swagged Storm, and yet acts like a totally different pony when dealing with your mother. He looked really shaken up when he brought you home yesterday, but he still did anyways. He was talking like a pirate most of the time, but totally shifted when he started trying to talk about how impressed with you he was. Do you see what I’m getting at?”
“Not really. I can’t... think that great right now.”
“Eh, that’s understandable,” Dash conceded with a shrug, causing a smile ever so brief to flash across the filly’s muzzle. “Ponies act to hide something they don’t want seen. I act invincible so ponies don’t stop to think about how scared I might really be. You keep your girly side locked up and buried like treasure because you don’t want to look weak or lose any friends. Pipsqueak... he kinda just acts delusional, but why? It’s a mask, Scootaloo, just like yours.”
It made sense. It made painfully obvious, right-there-in-front-of-you-the-whole-time sense, and Scootaloo’s tremors ceased as she sat riveted by the possibility that she wasn’t the only one with something to hide. Really, as she pondered all that had happened, she realized that she really didn’t have much left to hide from Pipsqueak, given that he’d seen her dance, sing, and get sloppy all in the course of a week.
I knew I couldn’t keep hiding forever. Dancing is great, almost too much fun, and so is getting all primped up, or whatever. I just didn’t think the time would come so soon, but... I can’t keep running. I won’t. “I’m gonna talk to him.” No amount of tears shed could fully extinguish the fire within, and life returned to the filly as her spirit took its stand beside the mare beaming down at her with soothing approval.
“Awww yeah, that’s my awesome little sis,” Rainbow Dash cheered, doling out a much deserved high hoof and gratefully accepting another hug.
“Ok, now shoo,” Scootaloo quipped, leaping off the bed and trotting towards the bathroom.
“Wait, what? That’s all the thanks I get?”
“My mane is a disaster, my face is a wreck, and I probably still have death breath from spewing chunks this morning. If I’m gonna prove I have a girly side and I like it, talking to him as a grungy, smelly slob isn’t going to really make my point,” Scootaloo declared, grinning back at Rainbow Dash as determination replaced flooded her being. “I need time to calm down, get presentable, and figure out how the hay I’m gonna get that colt to lay down his sword long enough to talk sense.”
“Yeah, good luck with that. Hate to say it, but he’s probably denser than Storm. Maybe you can just overpower him with ‘fabulosity,’ as Rarity would say.” Scootaloo paused, examining herself in the mirror as bashful grin slowly spread ear to ear.
“You know what, Dash? I think that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. Time to get fabulous!”
“...that’s it, I’m outta here.” Scootaloo giggled as Rainbow Dash made her exit, turning back to the mirror as she examined her arsenal of mane products.
“You’d better be ready, captain. This lass is about to get sassy.”
Ruby was, quite frankly, bewildered by Silver Spoon’s sudden shift in temperament, curious about the possible deeper ramifications, and slightly introspective as she contemplated how she herself felt about the literal afterglow of her first kiss. Ruby had never counted herself as a fillyfooler. In fact, her attraction to others wasn’t even something that she really thought about, at least not from a physical standpoint.
I’ve always cared more about a pony’s spirit than anything else. Nice pony? Make friends. Mean pony? Try to be a friend anyways. Diamond Tiara? Toss garbage at her. It’s a solid formula! Giggling as she rolled out of bed, she paused at her closet and cracked it open, gazing inside. How am I supposed to know if I like Silver Spoon? Like, really like her? Isn’t it supposed to be kind of obvious? I don’t get super nervous around her like Spike does with Sweetie Belle sometimes...
Closing her closet again, she waved to her mother before hopping into the shower and continuing her thoughts, coming to the conclusion that she had no idea what she felt, and that was fine. Curiosity, however, was something that drove Ruby absolutely bonkers, and thus it was that Berry Punch and Snowdrift looked up from their respective drinks upon the filly’s entry and inquiry.
“Ok, so how do you know if you really like somepony and aren’t just tricking yourself, or in denial, or have your head so full of romantic whatever from your friends all hooking up that it makes you feel like you’ve just walked away from an all you can eat breakfast buffet that only serves cake and ice cream?”
“That’s a pretty big question, sweetie,” Berry replied with a warm smile.
“I’ll say. What kind of ice cream?” Snowdrift continued, receiving an eye roll from both females as he adopted an appropriately thoughtful expression for such an intriguing and delicious question.
“Come on, dad, I’m serious!” Ruby chirped, garnering the stallion’s attention and affection with such a simple three letter word. He hadn’t simply been blessed with the title by virtue of being Berry’s coltfriend, but had earned her trust and Berry’s by continually putting the best hoof forward, putting their needs before his own. “I got kissed yesterday, remember? I’m trying to figure stuff out!”
“Ok, ok, no cake,” Snowdrift conceded, mulling over the heart of the question with a sip of cider. “Well, I didn’t really like anypony until I met your mother, but... it didn’t really hit me right away. I noticed her from afar, slowly learned about her from what few short dealings I had with her, fewer still the ones where she was lucid...”
“I was never that drunk when you served me... was I?” Incredulous looks from her daughter and lover combined with a gentle reminder forced her to concede that, perhaps, Snowdrift had it right the first time.
“Nah, not that drunk. I only had to save you from your own soup twice.”
“Off topic, off topic!” Ruby squealed, laughing as Berry busied herself with the rest of her wine. “Seriously, I’m serious here!”
“Seriously serious?”
“Yes, dad, seriously serious! Is that really all the advice you have to give me?”
“Ruby, dear, there’s really no need to rush,” Berry replied, setting her empty glass aside and giving her daughter due attention. “When you meet the right pony, whether it happens quickly or over weeks, months, or even years, one day you’ll simply know. And Ruby?" Berry paused, shooting an infuriatingly innocent grin, “if she’s a filly, that’s fine.”
“Mom, come on,” Ruby defended, only slightly blushing and likely not visibly apparent. “I already explained that was part of a joke.”
“If it were just a joke, you wouldn’t be seriously serious, now would you?” Berry chuckled, striking Ruby temporarily speechless. “Ruby, as long as the pony you find makes you happy, and you do the same for them as well, then you’ll have my wholehearted support.” Sticking to her new rationing in the wake of her pregnancy scare and subsequent dry spell known as “abstinence” wherein her usually cheerful demeanor was less than accepting of anypony and everypony that crossed her path, the mare with a taste for all things alcoholic set her glass in the sink with a clink, jump starting Ruby’s mind and bringing her father an approving smile. It was likely that Ruby would someday have a new sibling, and Snowdrift didn’t particularly care to deal with a withdrawal as harrowing as the last had been, so Berry had proposed she limit her intake, with room for allowances and wild nights. “Wondering if Silver Spoon would agree to another ‘joke?’”
“Huh? No, I wasn’t... that’s not what I was thinking, and you know it!” Ruby yelped, unwilling to admit that her mother was only partially correct. “Geez, you’re full of it today, mom. I’m gonna go try to find somepony to hang out with...”
“Have fun, be safe, and say hello to Silver Spoon for me!” Berry called out, chuckling as Ruby paused just long enough to stick out her tongue before trotting away. As much as she hated the thought of proving her mother right, running away from her worries wouldn’t solve them any faster. Besides, more often than not, hanging out with her spectacled friend seemed to enhance her already cheerful nature, and within a very short time she found herself outside the door of a rather luxurious house that was second in size and opulence only to the snobbiest snob of Ponyville. Upon her knock, the door was answered by Silver Spoon’s mother, Crystal Chalice; the pinnacle of refinement, minus the whole being stuck up bit.
“Good morning, Ruby,” the mare began in a proper tone. “Here to see my daughter?”
“Yep! Is that all right?”
“Oh, but of course!” she replied, standing aside. “Do come in. I do not know if she’s up quite yet, but I’m sure she’ll be delighted to see you. Silver Spoon? You have a guest!” After a few seconds of silence, Crystal offered an apologetic grin for her daughter’s “rude” behavior and motioned the filly towards Silver Spoon’s bedroom. Ruby offered her thanks, trotted up the stairs, down the hall, and stopped outside a door emblazoned her friend’s cutie mark.
Huh, this is weird. I’m... nervous? That doesn’t make any sense at all! Come on, Ruby, it’s not like she’s going to attack you the moment you crack open the door! Or, well, she might... but whatever! Steeling her nerves, Ruby gently set her hoof on the handle before pausing, a slow smile spreading across her face as she depressed the lever even slower, cracking open the door and peering inside. Whoa... glad to see I'm not the only one over-thinking this stuff.
With the events of the previous day still fresh in her mind, Silver Spoon had found herself becoming more and more worried about how Ruby had taken her advance: it was sudden, impulsive, rash, dangerous, and more frightening than anything else, genuine. Ruby, after taking a moment to study how much different the filly looked without her glasses on, slowly slipped in, closing the door most of the way and creeping forward with dubious intent, though she had little need for stealth, as Silver Spoon was too stooped in anxiety bother looking up.
I hope she isn’t too upset... I know it was way too forward, but I just... I couldn’t... A sigh, soft and long, slowly escaped as Silver Spoon recognized a fact she could no longer deny; she was falling for Ruby, a filly with seemingly nothing in common and an annoying persistence that bordered on alluring with the most infuriating habit of brightening her day. Relinquishing her resistance with a shrug, she began to reach for her glasses before the world was blocked out, her eyes forcing closed as a sudden, cavernous yawn gave the filly pause.
“Awww, you’re so cute, Spoony.” It was fortunate that Silver Spoon had taken in plenty of air, as it was soon expended in the form of an undignified yelp, giving the giggling filly standing just inside the doorway further cause for mirth.
“I told you not to call me that!” Silver Spoon shot back, glaring through still bleary eyes as Ruby displayed the products of her uncouth upbringing, merrily inviting herself in and jumping onto the bed. Slightly nervous and under the influence of a highly overreacting imagination, Silver Spoon pulled her blankets a little closer and shied away as Ruby approached. “...you’re not going to stop that, are you?”
“Nope!” Ruby replied with a fiendish grin, taking a seat about a pony length away and giving poor Silver Spoon no small amount of teasing, unintentional though it was, as she tilted her head ever so slightly to the side, forcing Silver Spoon to look away as the filly’s mane tumbled down, framing a radiant smile.
“Y-you do realize that was a rhetorical question, right?” Silver Spoon managed, frustrated on multiple levels with Ruby who just didn’t seem to get it.
“Duh! I’m not that dumb...” Ruby asserted, edging closer and bringing her mouth close to her friend’s ear. “Spoony.” A warm breath of air, tinged with Ruby’s scent, brushed past Silver Spoon’s ears and nose, prompting yet another blatant admittance that seemed to have zero visible impact on a filly denser than lead.
“You drive me crazy!” Silver Spoon shouted, instantly regretting her choice of words and recognizing them as the fuel to the fire that they were. Don’t go there, just don’t go there...
“Ooooh, really?” Ruby tittered, coyly covering her muzzle with a hoof. “I can tell!”
“Ruby! I... you just... your face... rrrrgh!” Silver Spoon ended the conversation in short order, grabbing a nearby pillow and burying her muzzle so that her screams were muffled and her lips occupied with something other than the function coming to mind. She tensed as a shift in the bed indicated Ruby’s approach, and Silver Spoon immediately sought to determine if the sudden tension in her hooves was that of a warning smack brewing or an incriminating embrace, too tight to be viewed as merely being friendly. However, testament to Ruby’s assertion that her intelligence was at least average, she recognized her friend’s disgruntled position and took a shot in the dark.
“I meant what I said, you know.” Slowly withdrawing her muzzle from a pillow most inviting, Silver Spoon gave Ruby her attention as the filly nodded once before continuing. “I’ll admit, I was a little- ok, a lot surprised when you kissed me. I totally didn’t see it coming at all! And I don’t know if that was you having a bit of fun at Sweetie Belle’s expense or my ravishing good looks catching your eye...” Ruby paused just long enough to give Silver Spoon, already reeling from a tidal wave of nonchalant acceptance, a meaningful wink before continuing. “Whatever the case, I’m not upset, and I’m not gonna let you stay inside moping all day, got it? Now, come on!”
“Why, somepony can’t manage their own grocery list?” Silver Spoon replied, her spirits lifting despite her frustration as she slid off the bed after the filly bouncing in place by the door. “Well, whatever boring thing you have planned for the day, I suppose I can tag along. I might even be entertained. Now, what is it that we’re going to do together?”
“Oh, you know, walking, talking...” Ruby began in a casual tone, trailing off and shooting Silver Spoon a look that left the filly with no room for doubt that Ruby was one hundred percent aware of her infatuation, and intended to drive her to the brink of kissing or insanity, whichever came first. “Oh, and bath time! Doesn’t that sound like fun?”
Rumble clutched one of his pillows over his head, fervently wishing his bed might have mercy upon him and become a portal to a land far, far away. It wasn’t the pounding headache that he wished to escape, nor was it the worried ponies standing outside his door, but the sound of running water that was his bane. Hooves, blankets, and now pillow was held firmly in place around his ears, but nothing could block out the steady downpour of the shower, nor could it wash away a young colt’s shame as he lay convinced his days as a coltfriend were over.
Certainly, the morning hadn’t started off half so terrible. Waking stretched out on the couch with Applebloom nestled in under his chin had stirred so deep an affection in the colt that for the first few minutes, the lumberjacks sawing an even line between the hemispheres of his brain in accompaniment to the roiling in his gut hardly even registered. Each quiet snore cause the filly’s bow that Rumble adored so much to gracefully brush his muzzle, and Rumble was helpless to do much else save lay motionless, filled to bursting with awe and wonder. He could remember the pounding of his heart, that moment his breath caught when she stirred and looked up at him with sleepy eyes, the slow smile and faint blush that bloomed upon her muzzle... and then...
“Rumble?” Brought back to reality by his brother’s gentle call, the colt immediately attempted to burrow deeper and curl up tighter, but the bedframe just couldn’t seem to appreciate the all-consuming embarrassment the colt had just endured, and so refused to allow him to meld into the woodwork. “Rumble, it wasn’t that...” Thunderlane paused as something solid made connection with the door with a loud thwack, followed by a clatter and a groan that was rightly discerned as one of utter misery.
“It kinda... really was that bad, Thunderlane,” Cloudchaser corrected, fortunately keeping her voice quiet enough that the stallion could at least hope Rumble hadn’t heard. “I mean, I know he’d never had done that on purpose, but still. Even I’d be pretty messed up if that’s what I woke up to at her age.” Flitter would have agreed if she were present, but the whole incident had made the mare incredibly embarrassed and she was currently awaiting some reassurance of her own within Thunderlane’s room.
“Yeah, thanks, Cloudchaser,” the stallion murmured with a sigh, not even paying her a glance as he tried to figure out a way to reassure his little brother that he hadn’t single-hoofedly brought about the end of the world, though given the magnitude of the disaster, Thunderlane wasn’t confident anypony would be able to do so. “Why don’t you go pry Flitter out of the closet or wherever she’s holed up while I try to, you know...”
“Tell Rumble it’s A-OK that he made a mess all over Applebloom? Right, yeah, have fun with that,” Cloudchaser teased, pausing a moment as she turned to leave. Huh, Thunderlane really is worried. Can’t say I blame him. I mean, it happened in front of everypony, Applejack included. While the mare was hoping for more than a slow sigh as she gently wrapped her hooves around her anxious stallion, Cloudchaser set her usual slew of sarcasm and good-natured prodding on the backburner, returning a portion of the love she received on a daily basis. “Don’t worry; if anypony can convince him that he hasn’t blown it...”
“Blown it?” Applejack interjected, trotting towards the bathroom. “Shoot, Cloudchaser, ‘blown it’ is puttin’ it nice like. That colt fair well exploded, an’ that’s a... fact.” Honesty was cut short by a glowering glare and a muffled groan from stallion and colt alike, and unlike her cousin who she still had to see off at the trainstation in just a few short hours, she knew when to keep her peace. Offering a muted apology, that mare continued down the hall where the water had just shut off while Thunderlane shook off doubt and nodded Cloudchaser off. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slow as he pressed on the handle and gently creaked the door open, peering into a darkened room.
“Rumble...” Thunderlane whispered, more to himself than the lump buried underneath the blankets. Noting that the shades had been pulled down to allow minimal sunlight into the room, the elder sibling quietly sat down beside the younger, prodding the lump gently with a hoof. “Bro? Hey, it’s going to be ok. Come on out, Rumble.”
“Nuh uh...” Thunderlane couldn’t help but cringe and wonder how so much misery could be packed into one little phrase. He couldn’t blame the young pegasus, really; if he’d done such a thing early on in his relationship with his fillyfriends, it would have been over, as well as his chances at bearing children in all likelihood. Still, this was Rumble, his brother, sweetest colt in Equestria, and Thunderlane wasn’t about to just throw up the white flag in his war on dejection.
“Rumble, you two went through a lot worse yesterday, and...”
“Nuh uh!” Rumble shot back, throwing back the covers to reveal his tear stained face. “There’s nothing that could possibly be worse than what I did this morning, Thunderlane! It was horrible!”
“Well, it probably wasn’t what Applebloom was expecting, no, but...”
“It’s not like I meant for that to happen!” he all but shouted, pounding the bed as he dropped his eyes to the bedding, too ashamed to lift his head. “She has to know that... It happened too fast, there was no warning at all! I just woke up, and... and...” Rather than dredging up none-too-distant memories by finishing the sentence, Thunderlane attempted to divert the seething colt’s attention elsewhere.
"There had to be some warning...” the stallion offered, knowing from experience after a few wild nights with his mares. “Usually, you can kinda feel if it's..."
"Yeah, there was warning; about half a second!"
"...that's a little quick, don't you think?"
"It's not like I'm proud of it, brother!" Rumble snapped back, glaring half-heartedly for a moment before noticing the raw concern written all over his sibling’s muzzle, and he again dropped his face back towards the tear-stained sheets. “Things were so crazy yesterday, and she was finally starting to have fun last night...” Rumble continued, his voice slowly losing it’s anger as frustration gave way to sorrow for having been the one to derail Applebloom’s all-too-short ride on the Carefree Express. “She was so crazy after she got into the cider...”
“It’s true I’ve never known a mare whose idea of a wild time involves trying to glue herself to random household objects...” Thunderlane said gently, hoping for a smile but gleaning nothing but a sullen nod from the downcast colt before him.
”If I had known what was gonna happen, I never would have let her sleep next to me, even though I really liked holding her...”
“Liked it so much ya just couldn’t keep it in, huh?” Applejack chimed in from the doorway, chuckling despite the pleading look on Thunderlane’s face. “Don’t look at me like that, Thunderlane, ah know yer brother is pretty tore up, an’ the only reason ah’m jokin’ ‘bout it is ‘cause he doesn’t need t’ be. Ah know mah sister, and ah’m sure she thinks it was worth it.” For the first time since the “incident,” Rumble showed some signs of life, sniffling as he peered back at the earth pony leaning casually against the doorframe.
“Do... do you really think so? Even after...”
“Shoot, sugarcube, she’s a farm pony; she’s used t’ bein’ covered in nasty,” Applejack laughed, taking a few steps inside and stopping by the bedside. “There’ll be trouble if you make a habit out o’ this, but ah reckon that won’t be an issue with you, Rumble. Now, don’t get me wrong, she’s may be a little cross fer a while, but she’ll calm down an’ be right as rain soon enough. Until then, just... try not t’ find yerself at the wrong end o’ the mallet, ya hear? Ah’d stay an’ help ya if ah could, but ah gotta... ugh, family... ah need t’ go.”
“Braeburn,” Silver clarified for the confused looks Applejack was getting, inducing pained understanding in all present. “He’ll probably be pretty chatty, what with the hangover he’s likely to have.”
“Serves ‘im right, gettin’ all pervy on another stallion durin’ dinner, an’ a taken one at that!” Applejack muttered, along with some other things nopony could quite make out.
“All right, sweetheart, come on,” her unicorn companion for life murmured, nuzzling her briefly before leading the way. “Thank you all for your hospitality and outstanding company, but we really must be off. I look forward to serving you and your fillyfriends at my tavern, be it for rest or revelry.”
“Are you kidding? Your brews are the best, and I’m pleasantly surprised Cloudchaser controlled herself,” Thunderlane chuckled, nodding his thanks. “It was great meeting you both. I expect we’ll see each other again soon.” With the company making their exit, he turned his attention again to Rumble who had barely managed a feeble wave. “I’m inclined to agree with Applejack, Rumble. You really are probably worrying too much.”
“I covered her in nasty,” Rumble answered flatly, folding his hooves across his chest.
“Yes, that you did...” Thunderlane conceded with a concealed grin, quietly amused with his brother’s stubborn refusal at comfort. “But, on the plus side, nothing you do now will seem quite so bad!” A few choice words came readily to Rumble’s mind in response to such a cheeky response, but the colt’s right to do anything other than grovel for mercy was revoked by the imminent approach of stomping hooves. Bowless, slightly damp, and by all accounts visibly peeved, Applebloom said nothing as she stopped at the doorway, her gaze piercing into Rumble’s soft hide. Paying Thunderlane absolutely no heed, Applebloom marched over, leapt onto the bed, and stopped with her face just inches from that of Rumble’s.
“Applebloom, I...”
“Yer gettin’ too wordy. Come ‘ere,” Applebloom barked, not giving the colt an option as she yanked him over and immediately began tousling his mane. Frightened for his wellbeing, Rumble offered no resistance, waiting a few moments before repositioning himself in a more comfortable position that gave Applebloom easier access. While the first priority for the colt was making sure Applebloom knew just how terrible he felt, he maintained his silence and noted with a glimmer of hope that her heavy sigh indicated the stress relief was working. Thunderlane quietly excused himself as their ritual continued, and eventually, the filly’s hoof slid down to the colt’s shoulders and pulled him into a firm though unthreatening embrace.
“I’m... really, really, really...”
“Talkative.”
“Uh huh. And sorry...” Applebloom slowly withdrew her hooves and took a moment to actually look at the colt. His eyes, or what she could see from the brief glances he was stealing her way, were rimmed red, and between the visible tear stains on the bedding and the downcast gaze, Applebloom found her justifiable fury feeling less and less justified.
Colt looks just about as miserable as ah was just a few minutes ago, maybe worse. Dang it, Rumble, why do ya gotta be so dang cute? “Honestly, what’s it gonna take fer me t’ get real upset with you an’ have it last longer than five minutes...” she murmured, shaking her head and meeting timidity with tough love, heavy on the love. “Ah fergive you, Rumble, but ah swear, if ah ever have t’ clean yer vomit outta mah bow again, you may as well ask the clinic fer a reservation.”
“I’m really, really sorry I puked on you this morning... It’s just... I’ve never drank before, so I didn’t expect that to happen! Even after Silver gave me the hangover cure, I still feel sick when I think about it...” It was penance enough for Applebloom, seeing her coltfriend so wholly apologetic for a mistake that, in all fairness, she knew he’d never have made if he had even the slightest control over the circumstances, and the filly gently covered his hoof with her own as he continued his lamentation. “I can’t think of anything more embarrassing...”
“Don’t try; in a few years, ah’m sure somethin’ even crazier is bound t’ happen,” Applebloom chuckled, her quiet laughter the salve for a troubled colt’s heart. “Now, first order o’ business is gettin’ mah bow back t’ Granny Smith so she can clean it proper. No offense, Rumble, but yer stomach doesn’t exactly smell like apple pie.”
“Nuh uh!”
“Phew! Neither does yer breath,” Applebloom teased, pulling a face and averting her muzzle. “Ordinarily, ah’d be right embarrassed t’ be seen without mah bow. Hay, maybe there’s somethin’ right relaxin’ ‘bout a nice face full o’ pony swill in the mornin’! Whatever the case, ah don’t feel too nervous right now, an’ ah’m grateful fer that, at least. Ah don’t... look funny, do ah?”
“Nuh uh!” Rumble quipped, shaking his head vigorously as he found the strength to grin. “I mean, it’s different. I’m not used to see you without it, but you’re still... still, um... beautiful.”
Now ah’m really in trouble. Apparently, he’s figured out some kind o’ magic word that makes everything ok. Dear Celestia, that made mah heart skip... “D-don’t go thinkin’ you can just talk yer way outta anythin’, ya hear?” Applebloom warned, glad Applejack wasn’t present to gauge the truthfulness of the statement. “Now, come on,” the filly continued, sliding off the bed and trotting to the door. “Ah’ve got a bow that needs launderin’, a weekend in desperate need of a little more fun, an’ a little less mess.”
“I’m never gonna live that down, am I?”
“Maybe when yer old an’ gray, an’ not a season before then! Now, enough chattin’! We got the whole day ahead o’ us, so let’s git goin’!” Thankful that a one time binge and subsequent upheaval hadn’t ruined what he hoped to be a lifelong friendship and more, Rumble paused just long enough to give Thunderlane a quick embrace before dashing out into the sunlit streets, eager to face a day full of possibility step by step with the filly just a few steps ahead.