//------------------------------//
// Chapter 1: Vegetable Chow Mein 
// Story: Fifteen Dinners 
// by Quill Scratch 
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The sky was a beautiful place. Everypony had always thought that she had never really had an eye for beauty (especially Rarity, who seemed to think that beauty was defined by whatever was in fashion and whether or not the shades of vermillion were just right), that she was too focused on physicality to appreciate the wonders of the world around her, but Rainbow Dash knew better. Perhaps her understanding of beauty was a little different, and perhaps she would never quite have let herself be seen dead trying to find something truly beautiful a year ago, but that didn’t mean she never appreciated it. A well-executed, perfectly choreographed flight show by any professional aerobatics team was beautiful; the view from the top of the Crystal Palace was beautiful; and the sky was beautiful.
The thing about the sky, Rainbow thought, was that it was a huge, empty space of possibilities. Sure, it was beautiful to look at—in the day, with its bright blue backdrop and swirling clouds, or at night when Luna positioned each and every star with the precision of a master painter—but the real beauty lay in what could be done with it. Rainbow Dash didn’t just see an empty sky, or a cloud, but rather invisible loops and tracks in the sky, tricks waiting to be flown.
Sometimes she would let herself get lost in the beauty of it all. She would close her eyes (and whoever said that beauty was a product of vision had clearly never flown) and feel the air flowing across her feathers, blowing against her face, playing with her mane and tail. She would hold her wings in place, gliding on the currents and feeling the sun on her coat, so lost in the sensation of flying that she could not bring herself to perform a trick. It was almost as if there was something special about those moments, something that would be lost if she tried to show off.
Inevitably those moments would be interrupted, whether by somepony else or Rainbow herself, as she realised that she had somewhere to be, or practice that she really should be doing. And while there was a beauty in the practice, in the trails that had yet to be and the tricks as yet unperformed that she saw clear as day before her, she had never quite had that sensation of truly being a part of the sky when she performed.
Sighing, Rainbow tilted herself downwards, flapping to slow herself, as she saw her destination ahead. She had lost count of the number of times she had crashed into that library in the past and was unwilling to have to start counting again. After all, if she had gone three months without barrelling in through a window she could manage another day.
Landing near the front door, Rainbow took a moment to run a hoof through her mane and lick her dry lips before knocking.
“Come in!” Spike’s familiar, rasping voice was certainly not unwelcome (Rainbow Dash quite enjoyed spending time with the young drake whom she had found to be quite pleasant company, not that she would ever admit it) yet somehow hearing it made her heart sink just a little inside her chest. Immediately guilty, Rainbow forced a smile and pushed open the door.
“Hey Spike,” she greeted cheerfully, trying not to look confused as she looked around the library for any sign of Spike’s presence. It would have been really embarrassing if Spike hadn’t actually been there—and there she went again, hoping Spike wouldn’t be around. There was no reason she shouldn’t find Spike in his home and she certainly had no right to make him leave.
She shook her head violently. Now was not the time for thoughts like that.
Spike walked down the stairs as fast as his little legs could carry him. Dressed impeccably in a dark suit (those weird ones Rainbow had never thought looked nice, with the shiny lapels and the large, open chest) and with a bow tie around his neck, Spike looked different tonight. Other times he’d dressed up, his height and youth tended to make the overall effect cute, but tonight something—was it the confident way he carried himself? or the suit itself, which this time had clearly been designed just for him rather than a scaled-down version of typical stallionswear?—gave him an air of class.
“Hey Rainbow,” Spike said, his huge grin not quite detracting from his new-found dignity. “What d’ya think?” He gave a little pirouette on the staircase. Rainbow suppressed a giggle, smiling at his antics.
“It looks great, Spike,” she replied. “Did Rarity make it?”
“Yeah,” Spike said, his eyes glossing over as he sighed. His voice slowed down, relaxing with his body. “She’s taking me to a restaurant in Canterlot, to say thanks for all the help I’ve been giving her.”
Rainbow watched Spike carefully, noting how almost disbelieving he seemed. Something wasn’t right—half a year ago, if Twilight had asked her out to dinner, she would have been bouncing off the walls with enthusiasm (in private, at least), she was certain Spike would be the same with Rarity. Not, of course, that Rarity saw this evening in even a remotely romantic fashion, but that didn’t mean Spike shouldn’t be more excited about it all. Unless...
“You do know it’s not a date, right?” Rainbow winced at the momentary pain that shot through Spike’s expression. “Sorry,” she added, quietly, “I just don’t want to see my friend beat himself up because he got carried away with a daydream…”
“I know,” Spike replied with a cautious smile. “But, even if I know this isn’t a date, that doesn’t mean I can’t let myself pretend, just for a while?”
Rainbow’s instinct was telling her that, really, pretending he was on a date was liable to do Spike more harm than it did good, but the young drake had looked so happy before and seemed quite content to know that he wasn’t actually going on a date with Rarity that Rainbow couldn’t quite bring herself to tell him no. Besides, maybe getting this chance to pretend to be on a date with Rarity might put him off—Rainbow could only begin to imagine how unbearably overwhelming a date with Rarity would be, if how she behaved at dinners with the six of them was any indication.
“You ready, Spike?” Smiling involuntarily, Rainbow turned to face where Twilight’s voice had come from. Twilight stood in the doorway to the kitchen, her head just poked around the corner into the library proper and, if the glowing aura of magic around her horn was anything to go by, probably mostly preoccupied with what was going on in the other room. “Your train leaves in half an hour, and you need to pick Rarity up on the way to the station.”
“I know, I know,” Spike grumbled and Rainbow found herself repressing another giggle at his tired expression. “I was just about ready to leave.”
“Good,” Twilight said, popping her head back into the kitchen, the door falling shut behind her. A moment later, just as the door settled in place, she nudged her head back through. “Hi Rainbow,” she said, turning to face the pegasus for the first time. Rainbow grinned back at her.
“Hey yourself,” she replied. Spike groaned loudly and rolled his eyes, before walking straight out the door without so much as a goodbye. The two mares turned and stared at the exit for a moment, watching the two halves of the door slam shut just a fraction of a second out of sync, before they both let loose the giggles they had been holding in.
“He can be so over-dramatic,” Twilight said between breaths. Dash nodded in agreement, snorting.
“I wonder where he gets it from?” she mused sarcastically. Twilight dropped her jaw in faked surprise and hurt, before her eyes went wide and she popped her head straight back into the kitchen. A little confused, Rainbow walked over and pushed the door open.
Twilight was cooking, which couldn’t be a good thing.
Pots and pans of boiling water were crowding the many surfaces. Held in a glowing, raspberry aura was a knife which was finely chopping some carrots, moving slightly too fast for Rainbow’s liking. Ingredients flew from place to place and pot to pot. It might have looked impressive had Twilight not been standing in the middle of it all, her eyes closed tight and her mouth moving slightly as she muttered silently to herself in a concentrated near-panic.
Rainbow stayed put in the doorway for a moment, half-staring at the chaotic beauty around her (because there was no doubt that the manic action was beautifully complex, even if it probably didn’t quite count as cooking by this point) and half-focused on Twilight herself. It wasn’t very often Rainbow just got to stare at Twilight—more often than not, the unicorn would notice and somehow distract her, so she often resorted to little more than sly, stolen glances—and now she got the chance she was more than just a little distracted.
It was only when she felt the need to walk through the artillery-fire of vegetables and hold Twilight close that she shook her head. Twilight was concentrating and busy and would probably not be too pleased with her if she just walked over and started nuzzling.
Slipping quietly out of the kitchen, Rainbow Dash sat herself down by the adventure section and pulled out a copy of Sapphire Stone. Flicking absent-mindedly through the book, she focused herself and her thoughts on the pages beneath her hooves, the feel of each sheet as it curved under the lightest pressure and waved, flowed from one side of the book to the other. The gentle, rustling sound that accompanied it was calming; the smell of the library that each page wafter towards her comforting. Even the words on the page—she might not have been reading the book, but she was certainly letting her eyes wander over the familiar shapes, the same old stories she’d grown to know and love—brought a smile to her face, distracting her from the mare in the kitchen she wanted more than anything to hold close…
Putting the book down in defeat, Rainbow stood up and trudged toward the kitchen. She felt as if she were being pulled by an invisible string, or some kind of magnet; she didn’t truly want to go back, but somehow she knew she wouldn’t quite be comfortable until she did. Pushing the door open with caution she was pleased to see the chaos had started to settle down, and Twilight’s muttering had stopped. The unicorn looked almost asleep standing up, were it not for the magic that danced around her horn and the not-quite-relaxed scrunching of her eyes.
Rainbow walked carefully through the kitchen, ducking under a stray onion that nearly hit her head, until she was standing next to Twilight who seemed so absorbed in thought that she didn’t notice (and even if she did, she certainly didn’t react). Slowly, Rainbow leaned to her side, shivering as the fur of her coat came into contact with Twilight, sending waves of electric sensation down her back. Drawing a deep breath she leaned further into Twilight, resting her cheek against the unicorn’s neck. She felt Twilight tense up beside her.
“Rainbow,” she said, her voice restrained and filled with warning. “I’m trying to concentrate.”
“And I’m trying to nuzzle you,” Rainbow replied stubbornly, rubbing her cheeks against Twilight’s soft fur to demonstrate her point. Twilight laughed at that, and Rainbow could hear it. Twilight’s laugh had always been beautiful, but Rainbow always loved it more when she could feel Twilight’s body shaking beneath her, and hear the muted tone of the laugh through Twilight herself. It was somehow purer, even if it sounded all the more distant.
Twilight pushed up with her shoulder, shrugging Rainbow off her.
“You know, half a year ago I would never have thought you’d be quite so comfortable openly displaying affection,” she mused, turning to face Rainbow. “You always used to seem so closed.”
“Now that’s not fair, Twi,” Rainbow said. “You know I wouldn’t be this mushy if anypony else were around. I have a reputation to uphold.” Twilight giggled at that, leaning forward to give Rainbow a peck on the cheek; Rainbow couldn’t quite stop concentrating on the lingering sensation of contact on her fur, and desperately wished Twilight’s lips were still there even as the unicorn pulled away to smile at her.
“Dinner’s nearly ready,” Twilight said, turning back to the pots and pans. A sieve flew down from the shelves above them as a saucepan full of sweetcorn and peas drained itself over the sink. “Sit down—I’ll join you in a minute.”
Reluctantly, Rainbow turned and walked over to the small table, noticing for the first time that it was laid with care and concern. The white tablecloth draped across it was not uncommon for Twilight, especially when she wanted to cook something a little more challenging than hayfries and salad, but the tall candle and bottle of red wine were new.
Sitting down cautiously, partly so as not to ruin the delicate setup of the table but also because she was more than a little suspicious, Rainbow slid her chair forward until she was comfortably close to the table. She took a moment to read the label on the wine before turning to look at Twilight, who was focused on dishing up.
“Hey, Twi?” she called. Twilight didn’t look around and continued to carefully drizzle sauce onto plates, but Rainbow could see the momentary pause that she knew meant Twilight had heard her. Satisfied that she had the unicorn’s attention, she coughed quietly to clear her throat. “Where’d you get this wine? And since when did you drink wine, anyway?”
“I just wanted to do something special for tonight,” Twilight replied. Her voice was reserved and quiet, almost inquisitive. Her posture fell slightly, and Rainbow couldn’t help but wonder why Twilight was acting like this.
“Well, it looks great,” Rainbow replied. “I might not know much about wines, but if it’s this old it has to be good, right?” Twilight chuckled at that; her voice sounded flat and empty. Picking the plates up in her magic, she wandered over to the table and set the dishes down.
Rainbow glanced at the plate before her, then back up at Twilight who was sliding herself into her chair. The unicorn looked worried about something.
“Hey, Twilight?” Rainbow asked. Twilight looked up at her and smiled flatly. “Are you alright?” Twilight nodded fiercely and picked up her fork. Rainbow decided to leave it—if Twilight wanted to talk, she would—and enjoy her food, for now, although she didn’t quite feel comfortable doing so when she could see that something was clearly wrong with Twilight.
She picked up her own fork and twisted it in the noodles, collecting a reasonably-sized ball that she stuffed into her mouth. She took the time to savour the taste, though; there were subtleties to the dish that took time to find and enjoy, like the flecks of carrot that were somehow tangy and sweet and sour all in one, or the crunchy onion and pepper that was stirred throughout. 
“This is good!” she exclaimed, only to see Twilight frowning at her own plate silently.
“It’s not right, though,” Twilight replied. “I followed the recipe to the letter, made sure everything was cooked exactly as instructed, but it just isn’t quite how it was supposed to be.”
“Twilight,” Rainbow replied, “I didn’t even know you could cook anything beyond hayfries or toast or boiled eggs. This is something I would be happy to pay for in a restaurant, and it tastes all the better because you cooked it for me.”
Just as she picked up another forkful of noodles, Rainbow saw a tear in the corner of Twilight’s eye. Dropping her fork, Rainbow pushed her chair out from the table and stood up, walking to Twilight’s side as fast as she could and wrapping a wing around the unicorn’s shoulders.
“Hey,” she said, nuzzling Twilight softly. She was met with a bone-crushing hug, as Twilight’s breathing was uneven and ragged. Hugging Twilight back, she leant down to whisper in the unicorn’s ear. “It might not be exactly how you wanted it to be, but this dinner is perfect. Do you want to know why?” Twilight nodded against Rainbow’s shoulder. “It’s perfect because my beautiful marefriend put in so much effort to make something amazing to celebrate being together seven months, and she’s even tried to find some wine to make it romantic even though I know she doesn’t like drinking, and on top of all that she’s somehow managed to cook something I would be happy to buy in a restaurant.”
She reached her hoof down beneath Twilight’s chin and pulled upwards gently, tilting her own head to one side as she did so. Twilight’s eyes were wide and surprised, but Rainbow leaned down to press her lips to Twilight’s. The kiss did not last long, but Rainbow put every ounce of emotion she could into it and she could feel Twilight doing the same; it was powerful and passionate and over all too fast.
With a smile, Rainbow pulled away. “Come on,” she said. “We shouldn’t let this food get cold.” Twilight smiled at that, a genuine smile this time, and Rainbow returned to her seat.
“Thanks,” Twilight said quietly, after a few mouthfuls. Rainbow shrugged.
“Twilight, I wasn’t about to spend our seven month anniversary letting you think that you’d messed up,” she said. “Especially not when you’ve made it so awesome.”
Twilight chuckled at that.
“This is awesome?” she asked, cheekily. “I thought the sonic rainboom was ‘awesome’, or a Wonderbolts show or even Daring Do. You might use the word a lot, but I never thought you’d use it for something like this.” She swept her hoof over the table, indicating the candle and roses and wine. Rainbow snorted.
“I’ve never had a relationship that’s lasted this long,” Rainbow replied with a shrug. “And yet each date still fills me with the same nervous excitement the first one did; each kiss makes my stomach do the same flips and whoops of joy that the first one did. The way I see it, that’s pretty awesome.”
They were silent for some time after that. It was a comfortable kind of silence, the kind one settles into with ease and just enjoys the presence of another pony without the need to communicate. It wasn’t expectant or heavy; neither expected the other to break the silence, nor did the silence demand it be unbroken. It was the silence of two ponies who were completely comfortable with each other; it was the sound of intimacy.
“How was your day, anyway?” Twilight asked, after some time. Rainbow snorted and rolled her eyes.
“It was alright,” she admitted. “We spent most of the day dealing with some rogue clouds that had come out of the Everfree. They weren’t particularly helpful—the sort of cloud that sends out a fully-fledged thunderstorm if you so much as nudge them, y’know? Thankfully there wasn’t much else to deal with today.
“What about you?” Rainbow asked. “Did you make much progress?”
Twilight sighed. “Not really,” she said. “In all honesty, I spent most of the morning helping Spike get ready and then most of the afternoon getting things ready for this. I’ve barely had any time to look at the work Princess Celestia’s sent me, let alone my own research.”
“Why did Spike take all morning to get ready?” Rainbow asked, confused. “I mean, I know he’s excited about tonight but it doesn’t take that long to get him all suited up, right?”
“He wanted to do it all himself,” Twilight replied, wincing at some memory. “He wouldn’t let me actually help him, but he needed me to be there to make sure he didn’t do anything wrong. He’s not all too familiar with black tie formalwear, though for that matter neither am I.”
Rainbow let out a low whistle. “That sounds like it was pretty tricky.”
“You have no idea,” Twilight chuckled; she almost sounded bitter, but Rainbow Dash knew she was not too upset with her number one assistant. “Do you know what a cummerbund is? Because neither of us did, and it took five books before we worked out how he was supposed to wear it.”
“Didn’t Rarity make the outfit for him?” Rainbow asked. “Shouldn’t he have seen it put on before?”
“She did,” Twilight said, “but she made it on a model—you know she has a mannequin for Spike now?—and Spike never got to see it assembled.”
It was quiet again for a while. Rainbow finished her plate first, and spent a minute or two just watching her marefriend eat. Whoever said Rainbow Dash had no eye for beauty had clearly never met Twilight.
“You’re beautiful,” she said, smiling happily and not entirely sure why she said that out loud. Twilight looked up, startled, her last forkful of noodles hovering in front of her.
“Where did that come from?” she asked, blushing. Rainbow shrugged.
“You are, though,” she said. “And I don’t tell you enough. I mean, I spend every day up in the sky, flying and soaring and enjoying what most ponies agree is one of the most beautiful sights one can get. And yet I don’t think I would ever choose to stare at the sky when I could just glance at you instead.” Twilight frowned at her.
“I know she’s gotten better with being affectionate, but my marefriend never gives out compliments like that—who are you, and what have you done with the real Rainbow Dash?” Twilight could only keep a straight face for so long, before the two of them collapsed with laughter, Twilight’s final forkful abandoned and the elegance of the table setting long forgotten.
“Oh, I was going to tell you,” Twilight said once the laughter had died down. “I saw Scootaloo today.”
“You did?” Rainbow sat up a little straighter. “How was she?”
“She looked alright,” Twilight said, “but not like she would keep being alright, if you know what I mean.” Rainbow Dash tilted her head and stared down at her empty plate. She felt an uncomfortable pressure at the corners of her eyes, so she tightened her jaw and focused as hard as she could on the oil tracks and crumbs. She was not going to cry, especially not today. “I’m worried about her, Rainbow.”
Rainbow nodded quietly. She couldn’t quite bring herself to look up, or to speak.
“She’s been more and more subdued over the last couple of months,” Twilight continued. “You remember how she used to look at the world with that bright shine in her eyes, looking as if she were ready for anything?” Twilight paused, and Rainbow could hear her taking controlled, deep breaths. “That look is gone, Dash. She’s there, but Scootaloo isn’t.”
“What can I do?” Rainbow asked, her voice bitter and hoarse. “I’m the last mare in Equestria who could help her, Twilight, and you know that much as well as I–”
“She needs you,” Twilight said, softly. “That little filly idolises you and loves you. Without you, she’s morose and as unlike her as I’ve ever seen. But you know what?” Rainbow felt a hoof beneath her chin, and tilted her head up with the light pressure to see Twilight standing by her side, her face right next to hers. “I think you need her, too.”
“I don’t need Scootaloo,” Rainbow said forcefully, “and she certainly doesn’t need me.”
Twilight kissed her, then. It was a soft kiss, this time—the kind of kiss that left Rainbow melting into Twilight’s forelegs, losing all sense of herself. It was a comforting kiss that made Rainbow feel safe, that told her she didn’t have to be strong just right now. It was exactly the way that only Twilight could make her feel, kisses or no, and for just a moment Rainbow was sure that she had never been in love like this before; and it was the kind of kiss that let her admit that.
“Dash,” Twilight said softly, once she had pulled away and taken Rainbow’s face firmly in her hooves, “I love you, but you can be a total idiot sometimes.”
“And I love you too,” Rainbow replied, “even if you can be totally uncool sometimes.” Twilight raised a questioning eyebrow; Rainbow kissed her. “Thank you,” she said, “for dinner and, well, everything, I guess.”
“Is that all the thanks I get?” she asked, smirking cheekily. Rainbow laughed and kissed her again, this time letting her lips linger against Twilight’s, wrapping her forelegs around the unicorn and pulling her close.