Octavia pulled at the edges of the dress uncomfortably, she was sure that it wasn't meant to feel like a fabric-skinned anaconda, but she was hardly an expert. For years the most clothing she'd ever had to wear had been her hoodie, and that only because, well, everypony knew that she wore that hoodie. Two hours in a dress shop was bad enough, having Fancy Pants with her was worse, and knowing what the dress was for was nothing short of excruciating. The b'monocled stallion was watching Octavia's discomfort with sympathy and mild amusement; the moment that they'd walked in Octavia's precious jacket had been whisked from her back and all manner of outlandish and constricting garments had been donned and undonned, stitched, let out, taken in and in one slightly more embarrassing case, torn.
Octavia knew that she was being doted on because she was with Fancy Pants, but somehow it seemed unlikely that asking the dressmaker to leave her alone would work. She seemed rather detached from reality in any case.
"And how's that feel now?"
"Actually, it's a little tight at-"
"Good, good... That looks much better with your eyes. Oh you really should do something with that hair, its so naturally glossy!"
"Well I do use-"
"Oh I could recommend a stylist, if you want." Much to Octavia's irritation, the dressmaker looked up at Fancy Pants with the question. However, the stallion could obviously tell how frustrated Octavia was getting; with a smile to the overattentive assistant, he decreed mercy.
"No thank you, Cherry Petal, give us a moment would you?" The unicorn scuttled away, and tried to look busy with her ledgers behind the shop counter. Fancy Pants rolled his eyes with a smile and turned back to the smouldering, frustrated, and rather smartly outfitted earth pony that represented the cream of his nightclub DJs. "Where exactly is it tight?"
Octavia blushed. "I'm not that fat."
"Of course not, but I do want to make sure that you'll be able to wear the dress, because I get the impression that you're about one more frilly hemline away from storming out in a huff." The old stallion smiled. "I didn't think you'd enjoy this too much."
"They're treating me like a doll! Where'd they put my hoodie anyway? I'd better get it back!" Octavia tapped at the cloth around her neck and shoulder. "Why would anypony wear this? It's so uncomfortable! What's wrong with a nice jacket or a shirt?"
"It's the Grand Galloping Gala, Octavia, you can't wear your normal jacket however much you like it. Besides, you asked for my help and I say you need a dress."
Octavia looked down unhappily and pawed at the carpet with a forehoof. "I know..."
Fancy Pants was suddenly concerned. He would expect frustration from Octavia; excitement, drama and exaggeration were all part of her daily routine, but sadness? It wasn't like her at all.
"Octavia," Fancy Pants lifted her chin up with a hoof, "don't worry alright? I'm sure I can find something that you'll like." She smiled, hopefully. "Why're you going to the gala this year, Octavia? I've offered you an invitation every year since you started working for me. I know Smooth Blend takes me up on the offers but you've never gone. What changed?"
The grey earth pony blushed slightly. Until now she'd managed to avoid actually telling Fancy Pants why she needed his help in readying herself for the gala. He'd seemed to be engrossed enough in preparing her that she hadn't seen any reason to tell him. Octavia had rather hoped that it might stay that way.
No such luck, apparently.
"It's Vinyl."
Fancy Pants looked surprised. "Whatever do you mean? Do you like her?"
Octavia spent some time looking concerned, finally, she answered.
"Look, we were both kinda drunk..."
Vinyl Scratch spun the shades around in her hooves and smiled. She was sitting on her couch in the living room of her apartment and a dose of coffee had done a decent job in warding off the unfavourable effects of an evening of drinking.
Said unfavourable effects had been worth it.
Unusually, Vinyl's piano had gone untouched so far this morning. Normally she'd be up and playing chords across the keys like a spider but for now she'd left the notes unplayed to ponder her life.
Did I just get a date? Well did I?
I suppose that it didn't... sound like a date, but, she asked me to a restaurant. That's a date right?
Do I want it to be? Will she show up with flowers? Oh, Celestia! Will she expect me to?
Vinyl shook her head and her mane fell down over her eyes. she blew it out of the way, it needed combing.
I should just call and ask her, that way I'll know what to expect.
But what if it's not a date; she'll think I want one.
Or what if it is a date; then she'll think that I don't...
Do I?
The unicorn groaned. "I need help with this one." The phone was levitated in a blue aura and a second number dialled. Beauty Brass.
Beauty dates right? She'll know what I should do.
Vinyl finished punching in the last numbers on the keypad and dialled, somewhere on the other end of the line a phone rang.
It was picked up.
"Beauty!" Vinyl blurted out urgently. "Dates!"
"Err.. They're a little sweet for my taste but I suppose I like them, kinda chewy. What's going on Vinyl?"
"You're saying I should buy her candy?"
"What?"
"I don't want to come on to strong you know, it's just that I've never had a proper date before, ya know?"
There was a moments silence, then a puzzled voice emerged from the earpiece. "Vinyl Scratch, are you asking me out?"
It was Vinyl's turn to gawk. "What?"
"I mean, I'm flattered really, but you know I don't... Swing that way..." Beauty's blush was practically audible. "Besides, you're my best friend. Who would I bitch to about my coltfriends?"
"Beauty, back up. What's going on."
"Weren't you asking me out?"
"What? No! I mean, no, not that you're not pretty and all that but, just, no." Now both mares were blushing, by virtue of her coat colour Vinyl had turned a rather pleasing shade of pink.
"Oh, er... Well that's fine then... Thanks, I guess?"
"Sure... I- Look, sorry to bother you, Beauty, speak to you later ok?"
"Great! I'll see you round, Vinyl."
"See ya!"
"Bye!"
Vinyl hung up the phone with a sigh and a giggle, blush slowly fading. It took fully fifteen seconds for her face to take on the expression of embarrassed consternation appropriate to her situation.
She galloped back over to the phone and redialled.
Ok, Vinyl, think this time.
*click*
"Help meeeeeee!"
"La Maison Nuit" was beginning to fill up. Octavia sat at the bar with a glass of whisky; her comfortable, familiar hoodie worn as it always was. She'd breifly considered something more formal, or nothing at all, but had ruled out the former when she realised that she didn't own anything of the sort, and had forsaken the latter when she'd seen the rain. Her wet mane was slowly drying in the warmth of the club and she'd made sure that she didn't have a shift tonight to interfere with her plans.
Smooth Blend was off ill and Fancy Pants had had to find a substitute at the last minute. After several minutes of confused discussion, the replacement barcolt had told her that there was no rule stating that DJs got free drinks, and that somepony must've been paying for them in the past.
Octavia forked over a handful of bits, and made a mental note to bring it up with Smooth Blend next time she saw him.
It wasn't long before Vinyl Scratch (an umbrella held in her magic but with her coat nevertheless just as bedraggled as Octavia's) stepped into the club and shook her mane out inside. The music was currently restricted to a background throb: the night's DJs wouldn't get here before eight at the earliest, and she'd be long gone by then.
Walking hesitantly over to the bar, as if afraid that at any moment Octavia might kiss, or for that matter, slap her, Vinyl caught Octavia's eye and smiled at her.
"Hey Octavia." she ventured, non-committally.
"Hi! Nice to see you!"
"Yea, you too." Vinyl thought that the silence that followed was awkward. So did Octavia, she just didn't know why. Finally, Octavia spoke up.
"I suppose we should go out then."
Vinyl goggled, "Really?"
"Uh, I mean, if you want to stay that's fine, but I thought we were eating at seven?"
Vinyl replayed the conversation in her head and began to recolour her face pink. "Oh, yea, yea of course. Terrible weather though, right? I mean, it's only natural that I might not want to go outside."
Octavia raised an eyebrow. "I suppose so? We may have to if we have any intention of arriving at the restaurant on time..."
"Uh, I guess you're right."
"Shall we go?" Octavia motioned to the door.
Vinyl smiled, and tried to stop thinking. "Sure!"
The weather outside was awful. Truly awful. Trout could have swam over the walls of Canterlot castle and in through the windows of the Princess' bedchambers. Why they would want to do so is a matter of great scholarly consideration, but everypony agreed that it was possible.
Octavia had immediately pulled up her hood when they left the club but the rain had soaked it through within a minute, both ponies were relieved when they arrived at the restaurant.
Golden letters over the door proclaimed it to be, "The Lettuce Bar" and Octavia had picked it out herself on the basis that of the half-a-dozen or so restaurants with which she was familiar this was the one were you were least likely to use the word, "tablecloth" synonymously with the word, "napkin". (With the exception of "Nut Grease's Bulk Diner and Wholesale Butter Emporium", where the word, "napkin" was rarely used at all, and only ever as an insult.)
Vinyl wasn't looking overly disgusted yet, insofar as it was possible to tell in the rain, which was probably a good sign. And yet Octavia found that she was far more nervous than she'd expected to be, but she couldn't place a hoof on why.
They stepped inside, Octavia hung her jacket up on a peg and waved at a server who made their way towards them.
"Hi! I'm Lemon Cloth and I'll be serving you today. Can I ask your name please, miss?"
"We have a reservation under "Melody"." Octavia explained, wiping her shades with a hoof.
The serving mare checked a list briefly and then nodded. "Great! If you two'd just follow me please." Smiling, she walked into the quiet bustle of the restaurant, and Octavia and Vinyl followed.
Both during and after the dinner, Vinyl found herself, despite her best attempts, micro analysing Octavia's every move and word. Dozens of thoughts streaked across her mind every minute as they chatted, each one making it harder to eke any enjoyment out of the dinner itself. A word about the weather could've carried dozens of meanings, or might have carried none, and by the end of the night Vinyl had a headache from trying to determine which it was.
Well, it was that or the booze.
The rain had subsided by the time the slightly tipsy ponies decided to leave. They split the check, and Octavia left a rather generous tip for the wine waiter. Somehow, Vinyl and Octavia navigated the network of Canterlot's streets back to the Maison and wandered inside. They sat down at a booth connected to the bar and watched the dancers on the floor, music from the stage now fully in swing.
"He's not as good as you ya know..." Vinyl remarked, slightly drunkenly.
"How'dya know? You never really listened to me."
"Ah did so! The whole time I was drinkin' I thought, "That music, that's, that's, that's some darn good music.""
Octavia blushed. "Really? That's really nice."
Smiling, the two ponies lapsed once again into silence and sat, basking in the noise of the not-quite-so-good-but-still-good music.
"Vinyl? You ok?"
The white unicorn was fidgeting slightly, her hoof was tapping insistently against the underside of the table. She seemed rather vacant.
"Vinyl? Equestria ta Scratchy?"
"Whu? Oh, yea I'm fine."
"What's wrong Scratchy?" Octavia giggled at the impromptu nickname, then frowned. "Didn't you have fun? I had fun."
Vinyl looked uncomfortable. "I..."
"Sup?"
Calm down, Scratch. Vinyl thought. Remember what Beauty said, what was it? "Kinda chewy"? Uh, probably not, ah heck, what's the worst that could happen. "I... Octavia, was this a date?"
There was a pause. When she replied, the grey mare's face took on an expression of drunken puzzlement. "No, Vinyl... A date's a little fruit thing, or is it a nut? Not sure. It wasn't a this though. This was a this, y'know, thingy."
"No! No no no, was this, like, a date date. Like you have with a special somepony."
This time, when Octavia replied, it was clear that she understood. She was just sober enough to be aware that this wasn't a conversation she should be having while drunk without being sober enough to stop herself from talking. Finally, she realised why she'd been so nervous. "Uh," she ventured, at length. "I'm not sure."
"Well... Do you want it to be?"
Octavia paused. "Not fair, I picked the restaurant, you tell me what you want!"
"Nuh uh, you tell me."
"No! You have to s-"
Vinyl grabbed Octavia by the neck of her hoodie and pulled her head across the table into the most awkward kiss either pony had ever experienced. After the initial shock, all Octavia could focus on was the idea that the wine still tasted good, even now. Whereas Vinyl was trying hard not to stretch her friend's trademark jacket. A moment later, the two released lips and stared at each other from opposite ends of the table.
After some considerable silence, Octavia shuffled around the bench and put her foreleg around Vinyl's shoulders. She whispered into the unicorn's ear. "So yes then?"
Vinyl turned back. "Yes."
"Vinyl? Vinyl, you there?" Beauty's voice buzzed out of the phone and washed around Vinyl like the wind.
Finally, she snapped back, "Hmm?"
"I asked whether you'd see her again."
Vinyl pondered the question. She wanted to say... something. She wanted to know, really.
"Look," She began at length, "we were both super drunk..."