//------------------------------//
// We Tongue-Punched, Okay? 
// Story: It's Not A Date! 
// by Mr Unsmiley 
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He was going to be late.
Sighing, Spike glanced down at his watch for the umpteenth time in the past ten minutes.
"Twilight, get up," he groaned. He shifted in his purple denim shirt, wondering if he should leave the top button undone. "I've got to be somewhere soon."
"No," she mumbled, tossing in bed, petulant. "I don't want to be a Princess today." She wrapped herself into a blanket burrito and mushed her head into a pillow.
"Too bad, Princess," he said, frowning. "Cadance and your brother are downstairs waiting on you."
"Sleep," she complained, turning away from him.
"Maybe next time you won't stay up until eleven studying soliloquies," he admonished.
"Solipsism," she corrected.
"Don't care." He narrowed his eyes. "Why are you being so fussy? You're usually diligent about getting up on time."
"I don't want to do stuff today," she whined. She turned onto her side and reached out a hand. "Cuddle."
"No."
"Spiiike," she said as she flopped about on the bed like a flailing worm.
"Call Cadance up if you're so lonely—"
"I am lonely!" she cried, wiggling.
"—but I have to go. I'm keeping someone waiting."
Twilight stared at him blearily. "Are you seeing another Princess?" As a burrito, only her face was visible.
He snorted. "If I was, I wouldn't tell you." He pushed her lightly on the head. "I'll see you around, Twi."
Spike rushed down the stairs, quickly checking to make sure that he looked presentable. Purple denim shirt rolled up to draw attention to his arms? Check. Charcoal jeans that framed his award-winning ass? Check.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he pulled a windbreaker from the closet and shrugged it on. "Twilight's probably not getting up anytime soon," he remarked to the couple in the castle's lounge area.
Princess Cadance looked up from a book she had been reading. She smiled serenely. "I'm sure she'll be up eventually." Clad in a humble pink sweater and a dark maroon skirt, she rested on her husband's lap.
Shining Armor looked bored out of his mind as he fought to stay awake. One hand grasped Cadance about her waist, securing her, but the young prince seemed dead to the world.
Spike sported a grin. "Must run in the family, huh?"
The young blue-haired man yawned. "Say that again, pintsize. I'll kick your teeth in."
Spike rolled his eyes, still grinning. "Gotta catch me first, old man."
"That's it," the soldier grumbled, shoving Cadance off his lap and lumbering towards Spike, his lethargy forgotten. He locked the younger man about the shoulders and ruffled his hair. "Who's old now?" he laughed, smirking at his surrogate brother's protests. Cadance chuckled in the background.
Shining Armor seemed to notice his friend's choice of attire for the first time. "Whoa, are you going out or something? This early?"
"Dude, it's nine in the morning," Spike said, ducking out of the noogie. "Anyway, I'm meeting a friend for brunch." He brushed his jacket off.
Cadance put her book down. "Who is she?"
Spike looked at her. "Who said it's a she?"
Shining Armor snorted. "Out of the other seven men in this town, I'm pretty sure none of them would meet each other for brunch."
Cadance gushed. "Is it that adorable little farm girl? Applejack's sister?"
The green-haired youth started. "Who told you?"
The princess shrugged. "I have my sources."
"Is she hot?" Shining Armor asked.
Spike stared at him. "Dude, we're friends. I don't—"
"Do she got a booty?" Cadance demanded.
The young man stared at the two of them, who were leaning forward.
Sighing, he pulled out his phone and selected a picture of Apple Bloom. "Here."
Husband and wife leaned forward, blinking at the girl in the picture. Her hair was a vibrant red, her eyes the color of a bloody sunset. And her hips...
"She do," Cadance and Shining Armor both murmured.



She was going to be late.
Apple Bloom tugged on her boots, grabbing her brush and cursing her sister for allowing her to sleep in, on today of all days.
As she tamed her hair into a respectable shape, she glanced at the clock on the wall. She winced.
She pulled on her pants—why did her hips have to be so big?—and ambled down the staircase.
"Hey Applejack! Hey Big Mac!" she called to her siblings. "Hey Cheeri—Cheerilee?" Apple Bloom ground to a halt just short of the door. She blinked at the woman sitting next to her brother on the couch, drinking coffee. "When did you get here?"
Her teacher smiled. "Only a couple of minutes ago, Apple Bloom. Where are you off to?"
"Someone's got a play date," Applejack sang, grinning behind her mug. Big Macintosh raised an eyebrow.
"Do not!" the young girl protested, indignant. "We're just grabbing some food and hanging out!"
Applejack pouted, blinking her eyelashes delicately. "Aren't you gonna stay for brunch?"
Apple Bloom rolled her eyes as Big Mac and Cheerilee laughed at the impression. "I'm leaving, alright? I'll be back later!"
Applejack cocked an eyebrow, still smirking. "How much later? I'd hate to see somethin' I ain't meant to."
"Bye," Apple Bloom grunted, shutting the door behind her as she left.
The three adults laughed heartily, shaking their heads as they settled back into their seats. Cheerilee shifted ever so closer next to the stalwart gentleman next to her, sighing as she brought the mug to her lips. If Macintosh minded the contact, he didn't say so.
Applejack kicked back in her chair, thumbing through her phone for Twilight's number.



Twilight shrugged off her blanket. Her phone rang, vibrating on the table. She picked it up when she saw it was from Applejack.
"Hello?" she answered.
A manner of seconds later, she jumped out of bed, fully dressed and ready for action. "Yeah, he's gone," she confirmed to her friend. "I had to make him think I was being lazy, but he thinks I'm going to be in bed all day." She slipped on her shoes and trotted down the stairs.
Twilight clasped the phone to her chest once she saw her brother and sister-in-law waiting at the bottom of the staircase.
"It's happening," she hissed.



They were both late.
"Hey," Apple Bloom said, grinning for no reason at all. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold, her ears burning at the tips. Her ever-present too-large coat hung from her shoulders, hiding away her flannel shirt.
"Hey," Spike answered, sharing her grin. They had met outside of Sugar Cube Corner, hands stuffed in their pockets and eyes locked.
The two of them seemed content to stare at each other and grin like idiots for the greater part of the day. Passersby had begun to stare, but neither of them had noticed.
After a pleasant silence, Spike pointed over his shoulder. "Do you, uh, want to go in?"
Apple Bloom had been too busy watching his lips move to pay attention to what he had actually been saying. "Come again?"
"Do you want to go inside?"
"Oh," she said. "Oh! Yeah, let's go!"
Chuckling nervously, the two young adults entered the restaurant, shedding their coats as they went.
The young girl at the counter propped up when she noticed who entered. She gasped, "You came to rescue me!" 
Spike laughed, and he felt some of the tension dissipate. "Not quite, P. I don't work today."
Pumpkin Cake pouted. "But it's so boring! No one's been in the store all day!"
The young man blinked. "Really? Who's back in the kitchen?"
"Just my brother and Pinkie. Mom and Dad sleep in on Tuesdays, cause they're so slow."
A pink-haired woman shot up from behind the counter. "Speak of the Pinkie, and she shall appear!" She grasped a startled Pumpkin from behind and blew raspberries into the girl's neck.
As Pumpkin giggled, Spike and Apple Bloom shared a look. "Hey," Spike asked, "is it okay if we go in the back and make something? You can put it on my tab."
"Sure!" Pinkie said, smiling, as she leaned on the girl in the stool.
Apple Bloom shoved her partner in the stomach. "Actually, put my part on my tab."
"Fine by me!" Pinkie said, watching the interaction.
Spike frowned. "It's fine, AB, I got it."
"The guy gets it on dates, not when two friends are going out," she said, defiant.
"I don't think it actually matters—"
"It does too matter, I don't want folks saying—"
Pinkie Pie rolled her eyes as she pushed the squabbling friends into the kitchen. "Jeez, get a room you two!"
As the swinging door closed shut behind the pair of feuding teenagers, Pinkie Pie plucked her phone out of her pocket. She hummed a familiar tune as she flicked through her contacts, smiling when she found what she was looking for. She pressed the 'call' icon and brought the device up to her cheek. 
"Oh, Twilight..."



"Stop fussin' over me," Apple Bloom grunted, as Spike tightened her apron around her waist.
"Maybe I like fussing over you," he muttered, wrapping the tassels into a bowtie.
Apple Bloom fell silent, only crossing her arms and allowing him to continue.
"This is getting weird," Pound said, pulling off his apron and throwing it into a corner. "Deuces," he said as he left the kitchen, holding up two fingers.
"Happy now?" Apple Bloom asked, frowning as she moved to the counter.
"Loads," Spike answered, pinching her in the side.
The two of them worked silently, each concentrating on their own pastries.
Finally, Spike turned to his friend, bumping her with his hip. "Why are you being so distant?" he asked quietly.
The farmer continued kneading her pile of dough, as if she hadn't heard his question. Eventually, she answered, "I don't want things to get weird between us."
"We kissed twice," he pointed out, as he stirred his mixing bowl full of batter.
"I know," she said, frowning.
"We saw each other half-naked," he added, checking the oven to confirm it was at the proper heat.
"I know," Apple Bloom restated, frowning harder and mashing her dough. She cursed. She'd have to reshape her rolls from scratch.
Spike was silent for a manner of moments. Then, "I thought you enjoyed it," he said lowly.
"I never said I didn't, Spike," she answered, frustrated. "But all that was because of a couple party games. It—" she sighed, resisting the urge to pinch her nose. "I just don't want things to change." Despite the screaming in her head to perk up and say she was a damn liar, Apple Bloom remained silent.
The young man nodded, going back to his stirring. The bakery was silent for an uncomfortably long period of time.
After a while, Spike muttered, "You're doing it wrong."
Apple Bloom turned to look at him, the first time in minutes. "What d'you mean?"
He nodded at the pastry in the making. "You're over-kneading the dough. Too much and the gluten will make the bread too chewy."
She snorted. "I think I can manage."
"Yeah, well, you say that," Spike said, moving behind her, "but your food's going to be terrible." He pushed his hands under her shoulders, deftly moving the mixture into the form it was supposed to take. His hands coaxed hers onto another lump of of dough, pushing and pulling them when necessary as he showed her how to work quickly. To his satisfaction, she offered no complaints.
"Do you want to try some of the batter?" he asked softly. She only nodded in response.
His dipped his finger into the mix, and brought it up to her mouth. After a moment's hesitation, she parted her lips and took the digit into her mouth. She shivered when he sighed his satisfaction. Given their proximity, she could feel it growing as well.
"And it's simple as that," Spike said, releasing her and stepping back.
Apple Bloom turned around to look at him, eyes wide. Her chest was beating erratically, her face flushed.
His stare was utterly blank as her surveyed her.
"You're a terrible liar."



The two friends ate their breakfasts in relative silence, stealing glances when they thought the other wasn't looking. 
"How was it?" Spike asked from his seat on the counter. He poked her in the side.
She jerked, before smiling a half-smile. "S'alright. A little tough, but—oh, shut up!" she said at his 'I-told-you-so' look. She placed a fist on her hips, unamused, before deciding to poke him back.
Spike pulled away from her, giggling. Apple Bloom blinked. He never giggled anymore.
She reached out another hand toward him, following a hunch. Her suspicions were confirmed when he flinched away from her.
"Don't," he warned, his laughs dying down. He scooted down the counter away from her.
"You're ticklish," she accused. A devilish grin rose to her face.
"Am not," he countered, only to flinch again when she made a move toward him.
"Where?" she asked. She swallowed her last rolls, crossing her arms as she finished.
"You're crazy if you think I'm going to tell you."
"I'll do it anyway unless you tell me," she replied.
Spike stared at her for a moment, then sighed and shrugged. "My sides and under my chin, mostly." He glared at her. "Happy?"
"Loads," she said, grinning. She gathered up her trash and threw it into a nearby bin. "Come on, we should get out of here."
Spike exhaled, relieved that she hadn't tried to assault him. "Sure thing." He dusted off his shirt and made for the doorway.
He yelped when two strong hands lifted him off of his feet and dropped him none too gently on a nearby sack of flour. "I trusted you!" he cried out in protest.
"That was your first mistake," Apple Bloom answered, grinning as she knelt down.
"I am so going to get you back for THIS!" he screamed, feeling her squirming digits ply themselves against the sides of his stomach. He bent over in laughter, trying vainly to dislodge the apple farmer from his abdomen.
"In that case," she growled in his ear, "Guys, come 'ere, quick!"
Spike gasped for air, staring at his friend. "You wouldn't."
"I just did," she said, smirking maliciously. She turned her head as the Cake twins and Pinkie Pie all darted into the room, cautious.
"What's wrong?" Pumpkin asked, frowning at the two of them on the floor.
"I'll tell you what's wrong," Apple Bloom said. She pointed at Spike. "He's ticklish."
Slowly, the three newcomers glanced at Spike, comprehension dawning on their faces. 
"Dogpile?" Pound asked.
"Dogpile," Pumpkin confirmed.
"I got his legs!" Pinkie yelled, leaping forward.
"Noooooooooo..." Spike cried, before he was pushed under the crowd of bodies. Someone was tickling his stomach while another pinched at arms. Despite the immense terror of being crushed by small children, he couldn't help but laugh uncontrollably along with his friends.
Suddenly, Apple Bloom's face was just underneath his chin, grinning. "Karma," she mouthed, her eyes defiant, before she leaned down and wrapped her lips around his throat.
His back arched, and he absently registered a curious hand combing through his hair. Just this once, he decided he wouldn't be angry at her.



The two friends staggered out of Sugar Cube Corner, faces red from laughter.
"I got you good," Apple Bloom said, allowing herself to lean on the taller boy.
"You did," he confirmed, leaning back against her ever so slightly. "I'm going to get you back, so you know."
Apple Bloom blinked. "Why? We're even now, aren't we?"
He looked at her. "Why would we be even? I just got assaulted by two and a half children, not counting you."
The farmer gestured in the air at nothing. "That...that thing you did earlier with the batter, you were teasing me." She looked at him, and her eyes seemed to ask, Right?
Spike scoffed. "Doesn't count if you enjoy it, AB. Besides, we both know you were full of it."
She frowned. "Was not." She kicked the snow in front of her as they ambled through the southern fringes of her apple farm. "I dunno, it's like..." she shrugged, "it's nice being around you without worrying about anything. It's easy."
Spike winced, and started to lean away from her slightly. "Is that what you want? Something easy?"
The young redhead looked at him, as if from a far distance, and murmured softly, "I just want to be friends."
Spike stopped in front of her. "Stop it." He was frowning, stone-faced. "Stop lying to me."
Apple Bloom's eyes were wide at his accusation, before her face flushed red with anger. "'Scuse me? Where do you get off telling me whether or not I'm lying?"
"I know you, AB," he said, indignant, "I know when you're lying to me. You get all shifty eyed and you talk really quietly." He exhaled loudly as he walked up to a barren tree and punted the bark. "Look, I'm fine or whatever with just being friends, or," here he sighed, "or dating, or whatever you want to call it. I'm cool with whatever you want to do." Facing away, he missed the mad blush that had sprung up like wildfire on his friend's face. "But just don't lie to me. Please."
Apple Bloom continued to stare at him. Her arms crossed, her teeth gritted against each other. Finally, she reached down, scooped out a handful of snow, and sculpted it into a sphere. Turning on her heel, she chucked the snowball at her friend's head as hard as she could.
Spike flinched when the projectile collided with the back of his skull. He turned around, angry. "What the hell, AB!"
She was panting heavily, her anger tempered by amusement.
"Catch me," she breathed, and bolted for the tree house. 



He caught her on the boardwalk.
"Oh no you don't," he grunted, securing her about the waist, ignoring her protests, and falling with her onto the snow-covered ground.
"Spike!" she shrieked, laughing as she batted at his arms. She tried to wiggle her way out from under him, but his grip was strong.
Apple Bloom gasped as she felt her shirt ride up, locking eyes with her friend. "What are you doing?"
"Getting revenge," he grinned.
Apple Bloom screeched as a sensation of biting cold pierced through her body. "FUCK!" she barked, scrambling free as she tried to rid her shirt of the snow that had been shoveled in. 
Spike laughed maliciously, running up the boardwalk and into the tree house, slamming the door behind him.
Apple Bloom got to her feet and hit the ground running. "Get back here," she roared, glad that she hadn't installed a lock on the tree house door. She shoved the door open and confronted the sole occupant of the clubhouse. "You're dead, green man," she snarled.
"We're even," he replied, smirking. He lowered his stance, ready to jump out of the way at a moment's notice.
He feinted to her left, but the farmer saw his move coming. Extending an arm, she caught him about the waist and forced him to the ground. The two of them grunted, trying to overpower the other as they struggled in a contest of strength.
Apple Bloom finally managed to gain the upper hand, forcing the older boy onto his back as she pinned his arms to the ground. "Got you," she huffed, out of breath. 
Spike rested underneath her, his chest heaving. "Yeah, you do."
The young farmer caught her breath. Her face was flushed red, from the cold as well as her embarrassment. She straddled her friend's waist, and her chest was inches away from his own.
When it seemed as if she would pull away, Spike closed his eyes and tilted his head back. "Do that neck thing again," he asked, his voice low.
Apple Bloom raised an eyebrow, still panting. "What neck thing?"
"The thing you did back at the bakery," he said. "Do it."
"Why?"
"I'm ticklish there."
Hesitantly, Apple Bloom lowered her head, lips parted. Normally, she wouldn't be so bold, but he wasn't looking at her...
Spike sighed when her mouth drifted over the swell of his neck. Her tongue traced his Adam's apple, while her lips massaged his neck in the approximation of a kiss.
The farmer gathered her courage, moving her lips in an ever-rising fashion until she was massaging the corner of his mouth. He laughed lowly, squirming away from her. "That tickles," he said, chuckling.
"I know," she said, just as low. Her lips pinched at his, pushing and prodding as she teased entrance into his mouth. It was an innocent gesture, curious even, as she flirted with his lips, tentatively tracing the inside of his mouth. Anticipation filled her gut like lightning, until she wanted to groan, even as the wind and the snow groaned outside of their shelter.
Slowly, as if it was an unconscious action, Apple Bloom released her friend's arms, instead moving her hands to trace his collarbone.
She lifted her head from his head, brushing her hair back as she did so. "How was that?" she murmured.
He sighed contently, rubbing her forearm with one hand. "It was something."



The two friends sat together on the couch, watching the weather worsen outside of the glass window. Flurries howled outside, the wind hammering against the window to the point that the glass started to creak ominously.
"Great," Spike muttered, "we might have to stay here until the snow lets up. I didn't pack for an ice storm."
Apple Bloom exhaled next to him, content to let her head rest on his shoulder. "I'm okay with that."
He looked down fondly at her, feeling a mixture of nostalgia and other, confusing emotions swell in his chest. "Yeah."
He wrapped an arm around her waist and hugged her onto his lap. "We've known each other so long now," he sighed. "Feels like forever sometimes."
Apple Bloom nodded, nudging herself closer into his embrace. "I've always liked your hair," she mumbled.
The green-haired young man raised an eyebrow. "I've always liked your accent." He grunted in laughter. "Whenever you say my name, it sounds like you're saying Spock."
The farmer looked up at him, eyes lidded and lazy. "Spike," she drawled, unknowingly letting a bit of her bedroom voice drift into the word. She flexed her toes when she saw him tense, and the familiar ball of fire, the one that made its presence known whenever he was near, started to blaze in her chest.
"You've got gorgeous eyes," he said, pulling her closer.
"I love the way your jaw is shaped," she groaned, dragging her lips over his jawline again.
"Your hips are ridiculous," he said, smoothing out her legs, from her knees to her bottom.
"You smell amazing," she added.
"You taste amazing."
Apple Bloom breathed heavily. She was curled up in her best friend's lap. She was kissing his jaw, and his hands—his wonderful hands—were resting just above her waist. Adult supervision was nonexistent. She had something on her mind, and she knew she had to get it out before it consumed her.
"At first," she started, not meeting his eyes, "I, that is...I mean, when I started to notice boys, really notice 'em, you were the only person I noticed." She felt as if a spotlight was shining on her face, and the heavy breathes of her partner was the breath of the whole world standing before her. "I figured it was because I didn't really know many guys at all, and you were filling out pretty good."
Spike laughed, and she fell silent, with a pained sound in her gut.
"Go on," he nudged her, "tell me." He thumbed her waist and she wrapped her hands around his chest for comfort and privacy. So he wouldn't see how terrified she felt.
"Then," she said, shaking, "I—I noticed that things started to disappear whenever you came around. I'd forget that other people were there, or where I was. It was like I had tunnel vision." She swallowed, terrifyingly nervous. "I know it sounds like a really bad cliché, but I don't know any other way to put it."
Spike was silent, only coaxing her on. He was glad she couldn't see him—his eyes were wide as dinner plates, as the implications of what she was saying started to dawn on him.
"I like you," she said, and she was staring him in the eyes now. "I like you, so much, and it scares me." She shook as his hands wrapped gently around her throat. 
Spike's thoughts went to an old friend of his, and how his other old friend seemed to be spitting out his old thoughts, pang for pang. It felt as if she was punching him with words, dead in the chest, and he knew for the first time what a terrible power he held over Apple Bloom.
"I know," he told her, and he drew her into a kiss.