“Wakey, wakey, lovebirds…” The taunting voice dances on the fringe of your consciousness, gently coaxing you out of your delicate slumber. You roll over and brush it off, too exhausted to so much as acknowledge the pony pining for your attention. You curl your hooves around the curvaceous frame of your marefriend, and snuggle in close to her. “Oh, for the love of…” Your eyes snap open as a hard hoof is jabbed into your ribs, forcing you awake.
You groan a bit as you jolt to life, blinking a few times in an attempt to clear the heavy haze of sleep from your eyes. Eventually your vision refocuses long enough for you to gain a fuzzy perception of the pony standing above you, and you can feel your heart sink when you realize it’s none other than your mother, grinning madly at you wrapped up in the hooves of your lover, the evidence of your lustful, and incredibly lengthy, session of lovemaking clear to see.
You move your mouth to speak, but no words come out. Your cheeks burn, and you can feel Rarity start to shift about in the bed next to you, sleek feminine frame twisting about beneath the covers as she pulls you close, mumbling into the tussled fur of your chest.
Your mother seems to find the compromising position infinitely hilarious. “I take it the two of you tuckered each other out, by the looks of things.” A giddy chuckle slides past her lips. “You kids these days, so energetic.”
You don’t respond right away, still trying to get your head on straight. Your whole body aches, particularly the lower portion… and you’re not quite sure how long you’ve been asleep. “What time is it?” you ask aloud, not necessarily directing the question at anypony in particular, though your mother sees fit to answer anyway.
“A little past six a.m. We’re gonna be in Manehattan by nine, so your dad and I figured you two might like to…” she looks you over again, clearly amused, “freshen up a bit after that three hour show you’d put on for the rest of the train. Breakfast’s being served in the dining car as well; your father and I already got our own delivered to us, but we figured it best to wait and see if you two were…” She presses a playful hoof up to her lips to hide her mirthful smirk. “Shall I say, decent?”
You nod your head in agreement. As embarrassing as the whole situation had turned out to be so far, at least you and Rarity had been disturbed by somepony who could play it off as a joke, and not some pimply faced teenager who happened to deliver a stack of pancakes to the wrong cart at the wrong time.
You look down as Rarity slowly starts to come around, hind legs stretching out beneath the covers as she gently pulls her head away from your chest. She looked a little messy; long black lines of mascara marred her cheeks in thick rivulets, her cherry red lipstick was heavily smeared, her eyeshadow was ruined, and her lovely coiffure had deflated and flattened into a single, hairy, mess.
“Looks like your lady friend has finally come to.” Your mother points out, spinning around on her heels and slowly heading for the door. “Anywho, your father and I’ll be in our cart if you need anything, so you know where to find us. See you later, hun.”
You nervously rub at the back of your neck with a free hoof and blow a stray strand of the messy mop atop your head away from your eyes with an exasperated puff of air. “Bye, mom…” you mumble bashfully as she exits the room, the door sliding shut with a gentle slam behind her.
You watch for a moment as her silhouette dances across the glass window of your room, her shadow pressed up against the shut blinds from the sunlight. Eventually she disappears around the corner, and the sound of her own cart’s door sliding open, then shutting, rings out through the silent interior of the train.
Slowly, you can feel a displacement in the weight on the bed as Rarity unhooks her legs from around your chest and sits up. Her expression is one of confusion as she looks around the room, she places a dainty hoof up to her lips to stifle a heavy yawn. She looks around the room, rubbing at her right eye with that same hoof in an attempt to clear the sleep away from it.
“Oh, dear me…” she mumbles, shifting her focus back towards you. “My, I could have sworn somepony was just in here.”
You smile at the mare and pull yourself up, back crackling and snapping as you stretch your taut limbs and body. “There was…” you respond, voice strained a bit.
Rarity shoots you a perplexed look, already running both hooves through her mane in an attempt to make it appear somewhat presentable. “Really? Who was it?”
“Um…” You pause for a moment, contemplating what to say. “Our wakeup call.”
The fashionista doesn’t quite seem to understand what you mean, but you silence any questions she might kick your way with a deft dive forward as you swiftly plant your lips on her own and passionately kiss her. The mare squeals in surprised delight before giving in and leaning into the contact, sighing hotly into your mouth as your tongues intertwine, dancing with one another in a tangle of love.
You pull away, take a breath, and smile, savoring the taste of her delicious love on your tongue. The pale unicorn’s face burns a bright red, obviously caught off guard by your sudden oral assault.
“I’m going to go get us some breakfast,” you tell her, kicking off the covers wrapped around your lower half, the cool air of the cart brushing against your sweaty legs and cooling them in a delightful manner. “Any requests?” you ask her sweetly, feet dangling over the side of the bed as you look at her over your shoulder.
The mare gives her head a slight shake, snapping out of the reverie you’d put her in. She places the tip of her hoof to her chin and ‘hmms’ to herself for a moment, contemplating what to request. “Believe it or not, I find myself in the mood for pancakes. They do serve those, don’t they?”
You shrug. “I think so, I slept through breakfast last time I rode the train.” You feel an encroaching yawn approach, and swiftly move to choke it down with the back of your leg. You give your head a shake afterwards, forcing yourself awake.
“Well, in any case, you know what I like. I have faith in you.” She reaches over and gently pecks you on the cheek.
You chuckle and run a hoof through your mane, brushing your bangs out of your eyes. “I’m glad somepony does.” You hop off the bed and steady your feet. Your hind legs wobble a little bit and threaten to buckle under your weight, though you manage to regain your footing after a moment or two of fumbling. Your legs are… really weak, for obvious reasons… “I’ll be back in a moment Rare.”
You look over your shoulder and see the fashionista nod her head to signal that she’d heard. With that out of the way, you head outside into the hallway of the train. The rumbling of the tracks and whistling of the wind is a lot louder out here than in the quiet confines of your room. Outside, fields, meadows, woods, and streams pass by in a series of multicolored blurs, bleeding together into a single messy visage of wood, water, and grass. The car is warm, the air thick, heated by the dark orange shafts of sunlight bleeding through the rows of bare windows on your right, illuminating the dimly lit carriage and pushing away the darkness.
The soft carpet below feels good against your hooves, and small vibrations travel up and down your body as the train speeds along towards it’s destination. In a few of the nearby rooms you can hear ponies awaken and begin to stir, a quiet cacophony of alarm clocks, bedraggled moans, and squeaking beds all betraying their intentions. Others, however, appear to share your own mindset. You always preferred sleeping in. You’d gotten a bit of a taste for the act back during your unemployment, though working for Rarity had wound your internal clock back a bit, this was still the earliest you’d been up in a while.
Without further ado you start to meander down the hall, the delectable scent of breakfast foods and the sound of clanging silverware serving as your guides to find the dining car. It doesn’t take too long to reach it, and when you do, you can feel your stomach grumble and your mouth begin to salivate as the thought of stuffing your maw with all kinds of breakfast goodies runs through your mind.
You reach down and secure the handle of the dividing door in your teeth; a swift twirl of your neck and the door slides open, revealing the sight you’d been searching for. The sweet sugary smell of baked goods and the sounds of sizzling cookware assaults your nose and ears respectively. All around you ponies are moving about. Some took their plates full of food and left back to their respective carts while others joined each other at one of the many empty tables nearby, talking amongst themselves and enjoying their breakfasts.
The dining car is significantly different from the others you’d passed through on your way to get to it, including your own. Where either rooms or seats were lined along the far walls, leaving ample space for walking, this one, however, had about half of each side replaced with sturdy iron tables tables. They were long and rectangular; four occupied the left side, three on the right. Each of the tables was lined with plates of food; Flapjacks, bagels, muffins, anything you could imagine that was vaguely breakfasty was available for your consumption. The latter half of the cart had been turned into a makeshift restaurant area of sorts with seats repurposed into makeshift booths.
Suddenly you realize that carrying two plates back for you and Rarity is going to be a bit difficult without the aid of unicorn magic or pegasi wings, and you don’t really feel confident in your ability to balance a plate full of food atop your head or along the crux of your back, not with how the train shook you back and forth as you walked. You seek a compromise and only grab one plate. Rarity probably won’t mind sharing it with you, element of generosity and all.
You grab a nice fluffy pair of pancakes for her, butter them, and drench them in a nice, fine layer of maple syrup - not too much, but just enough to give it a sweet tang. After that’s all taken care of, you snatch up a few puffy looking blueberry muffins and a waffle for yourself. You also stop for a moment to grab something to drink, wetting your dried orifice with a half-full paper cup of orange juice. You’d prefer water, but it doesn’t look like they have any laid out, and you don’t want to dawdle.
Once your plate is sufficiently full, you quickly, yet cautiously to avoid any accidental mishaps, march back towards your car. Again, it doesn’t take long, and you’re standing outside your room’s door, plate dangling from your mouth, in what seems like no time.
You, unable to open the door with your mouth stuffed full of ceramic porcelain, are forced to knock. You jab your right front leg against the bottom of the door a few times, loud knocks ringing out throughout the desolate cabin in rapid succession. You can hear Rarity shuffle about on the other end of the door; the distinct odor of hair spray wafts about the air, mixing with the delicious smell of your pancakes in what is decidedly an unpleasant mixture, and you can hear her muttering to herself on the other side. You realize that she’s likely trying to fix the mess you’d made of her hair last night, and you can’t help but feel a little guilty for having done so.
Despite how little she seemed to care at the time, you’re well aware that Rarity’s magnificent coiffure is one of, if not the, piece of her look that she loves the most. She often spends about as much time fussing over her hair, as you do complaining about your own, which is quite a bit. It’s part of her perfectionist persona, you assume. She always has to look… just right.
You love that about her, her dedication to her passion, but sometimes, well, it’d be nice to see her let her hair down a little, and not worry about it so much. You’ve told her before, though you doubt it’s done much good, that what makes her so beautiful is her personality, charm, and generosity, with her looks only serving to accentuate the beauty within.
She’d laughed at you, playfully smacked you on the leg, and told you to stop being so cliche. You had to give her that one; it was a bit cliche, if true. Still, it’s part of what makes her who she is, and you’ll love her no matter what.
“Who is it?” she asks, posh voice muffled by the thick wooden door separating the two of you.
“Bmmngung, Rawruty… le’ muh ‘en.” You try, and fail, to articulate the sentence in your mind. You can’t imagine that Rarity really understands even the gist of what you’re saying, but you assume she’ll still be able to recognize your voice.
After all… It’s not exactly the first time you’ve tried to say her name with a full mouth… With about the same level of success.
“Oh, darling!” You hear her hooves hit the floor and her horn light up as the door slides open, the handle gripped in a telekinetic cloud of magic.
“Tlank ou.” you say, wandering into the room and hooking your hind leg against the bottom of the door and swinging it shut, ensuring you and your marefriend have some peace and quiet.
“Here, allow me dear.” Rarity envelops the plate in her magic. The ethereal blue cloud dances over your tongue, tingling your taste buds and making you grimace. Magic always seemed to have a dirty, steely, gross taste to it, certainly not something you’re overly fond of subjecting yourself to, but unable to avoid with your position as Rarity’s assistant.
You give your jaw a little twirl, stretching it out, carrying that plate around for so long had locked it up in a most unpleasant manner. You look up to see Rarity bring the plate closer to her face, taking a petite sniff of the steaming pancakes and cooing in delight.
“Mmm!” She moans happily, setting the plate down on the nightstand. “I must say, that smells positively delightful.” Her face scrunches up into a slightly embarrassed grimace as her stomach grumbles a little in anticipation, her pale white cheeks burn crimson, and her forced laugh brings a smile of amusement to your face.
“I’m glad you approve.” You say, smiling. “Now scooch over, we’re sharing.”
The pair of you eat jovially, the sugary grub sweetening the atmosphere and perking the both of you up. Even your somewhat sour mood is alleviated a bit by the time the pair of you finish, and you find yourself snuggling with Rarity on the bed, eyes turned toward the window as the pair of you watch the countryside speed by in a blur of green and blue.
“Not much longer now.” You mumble, squeezing Rarity’s hips a bit, bringing her closer. Your gaze wanders towards the clock mounted on the wall nearby, reading the time. You have a little less than an hour left before the train reaches it’s set destination.
Manehattan...
“Tell me, are you excited to be going home?” Rarity asks, squirming a bit in your grasp, a few stray strands of her purple coiffure wander towards your face, brushing against your nose, tickling it. “Darling?” She asks again, taking note of your apparent silence.
“I’m… not going home.” You respond, confidently, after a moment or two of contemplation.
“What?” She shoots up, looking you dead in the eye with a mixture of concern and surprise written on her face. “Don’t tell me you’ve come all this way just to lose your nerve.”
“No, Rare… I mean, Manehattan isn’t my home. I want you to know that… no matter what happens, my home’s with you, whether that’s Ponyville, or Canterlot, or wherever. I guess what I’m trying to say is… you are my home.”
You plant an affectionate kiss on her forehead.
“And as long as I’m with you, that’ll never change.”
She smiles, and holds you close.
You respond with a weak grin, and in kind. It feels good, being like this… you can only hope that it’ll last, after she learns what happened in Manehattan.
You look towards your saddlebag, the object you’d borrowed the day previous filling it up, distending the faux leather.
Hopefully that’ll help…
Hopefully...