“This ain’t gonna work,” Braeburn Apple mumbled. He yanked at the edges of his tuxedo in an effort to join the buttons together.
“Come on, we can make it work!” Pinkie Pie took one of the buttons in her teeth and pulled as hard as she could. “Aw we gorra oo ish pu a yil effrr in ih!”
Braeburn sighed in dismay as the button came loose and his wife tumbled back head-over-tail. “Ah’ll get the sewin’ kit.”
Pinkie’s fluffy mane stuck out everywhere as she bounced back to her feet. “You know, this wouldn’t have happened if you’d gotten your tux at Rarity’s boutique.”
He pulled out a spool of thread and managed to prick himself with the needle. “Yip! Daw, c’mon Pinks, you know Lemon needs the business. She’s really hurtin’ down in Appleloosa.”
She passed him his button alongside a peck on the lips. “I think I can guess whyyy!”
Braeburn grinned ruefully as he gripped the needle in his teeth. Pinkie tilted her head to the side, letting loose a small “hmm” of bemusement. “Hay, Honey? How come you’re not using your magic?”
“Force o’ habit.” He nicked the thread with his teeth, the button having been painstakingly reattached to his tux. “Can ah ask yah a weird question?”
She draped her front half over his back and brought her muzzle up beside his ear. “Shoot.”
He fought down the smile that assailed his face. “What do yah dream about?”
Pinkie smiled. “You mean like, ‘what do I want outta life,’ or ‘what do I get after eating pizza too late?’”
“Ah like tah think ah know somethin’ about the first one,” he chuckled. “Ah’m curious about yer night dreams. Any weird ones lately?”
“Well…” She tapped a hoof on her lips. “There’s this really bizarre one where I was married to an alicorn prince, and it wasn’t the weirdest thing that ever happen to me.”
He smirked. “What was?”
“A little episode with cotton candy clouds and chocolate rain.” She stared into the middle distance, which may have had the good sense not to stare back. “The girls and I try not to speak of it too often.”
His grin widened. “Some stay dry…”
“Yeah, yeah.” She shrugged and lowered herself from his back. “I don’t think I’ve had any real sugar-induced fever dreams lately. Sorry, Honeybunches.”
Pinkie placed her hoof under his chin, stopping him from trotting back to the mirror. “Why? What’s got you thinking about it?”
“Ah don’t know if ah’d call it a sugar-induced fever dream”—he grasped his hat off the rack and placed it atop his smoothed-over mane—“but it’s recurrin’.”
Pinkie slipped her dress over her shoulders and got caught halfway. She peered through the neck hole. “What happens?”
He tugged at the back of her dress quite a bit more gently than she tugged his button. “Well, it’s real strange. You ever known me tah get lost?”
“Yeah, no, that doesn’t happen.” Her mane popped through the opening, but her head had yet to follow. “I always figured that you had a compass stashed under your hat.”
“Well, in mah dream, ah got no idea where ah’m at.” He slid her mane curl-by-curl through her dress, eventually uncovering the lost treasure that was her blue eyes. “Howdy.”
She passed a hoof through one of the leg holes and nudged him away. She proceeded to wiggle the rest of her body into the dress. “What’s it look like?”
“Just desert. Rocky, lifeless, strange desert.” Braeburn sat against the back of a nearby chair. “Ah don’t recognize any landmarks, ah don’t see any ponies. Ah’m just wanderin’.”
His brow furrowed. “On top o’ that, ah feel the same way when ah wake up. It takes a few minutes before ah remember where ah’m at, or what’s what and whatnot.” His face softened as his eyes met Pinkie’s. “Least, ’less ah’m wakin’ up next tah you. Then it tends tah come back pretty quick-sharp.”
Pinkie flicked her tail at his nose. “Sounds like you need to visit Ponyville more often.”
He shuffled his hooves. “Maybe you need tah visit Appleloosa more often. Maybe.”
Her left ear drooped nearly imperceptibly. “This is kind of a weird setup, isn’t it?”
Braeburn stood, the clatter of hooves filling the room. Pinkie closed her eyes as he embraced her from behind. “Ah know,” he said. “But mah only regret is that this can’t be every day.”
She giggled as he nuzzled behind her ear. “You know, if you need to talk to me about something, you don’t have to perform conversational loop-de-loops. You can just tell it to me straight.”
“Loop-da-loops?” He looked down at her. “Like how?”
“Your whole, ‘Hay, Pinks, ah’m just curious ’bout yer sleep’ spiel.” She patted his cheek. “It’s okay to just say what’s on your mind without any of your beat-around-the-bush, passive stuff.”
“Ah just wanted tah be sensitive tah you,” he said with a pout.
Pinkie let a really, really big smirk take control of her mouth. “I guess it’s alright if your heart was in the right place.”
“Darn tootin’ it was.” Their lips met, lingered, and then parted with a smack.
Pinkie wobbled a bit as she walked towards the door. She grinned over her shoulder. “You ready for tonight’s party?”
He nodded and pushed his hat up a ways. “Born ready.”