Berry Punch was drunk.
There was nothing particularly unusual about that. Indeed, some less charitable souls in Ponyville might say that any other state would be cause to make sure Celestia's grip upon the sun was firm. But fortunately, Berry was not in the company of such cruel, heartless ponies at the moment. Instead, the mulberry mare was accompanied by Pinkie Pie, her nigh-on inseparable drinking partner of the last few months. Sweet, sensational, sure-hooved Pinkie Pie, who was even now helping Berry to not weave down the streets too badly as they made their way out of the Crystal Castle's increasingly well-stocked wine cellar after a night spent making room for whatever would be coming in the next shipment of what royalty considered appropriate house-warming gifts.
A shipment for which Berry could hardly wait.
These were the thoughts that tripped and stumbled their way through the mulberry mare's muddled mind, though she would have been hard pressed to actually voice them if asked. Instead, Berry gave voice to a laughter that bubbled up inside of her, wordless mirth echoing through the near-empty streets of Ponyville. Even the bar crowds, Berry's usual company on the way home, had already made their own drunken way back to their beds. Their own, or somepony else's, it wouldn't matter until the morning hangover, when cotton-choked mouths and brain-stabbing beams of sunlight would soften the blow of realizing just how dubious their judgment may have proven. Pinkie giggled next to her, more quietly than Berry's own boisterous outburst, and gave her a gentle nuzzle to get her to lift her head a bit.
“Come on, silly filly, let's get you home!” Pinkie sing-songed, adjusting to better prop up the older mare.
“Ssssthounds good t'me,” Berry slurred, her tongue thick and heavy as she snuggled up to Pinkie's side, nuzzling into the luxurious pink curls that tickled at her muzzle. “Y'r good frien', P'nkie,” she added into those self-same curls, enjoying the cotton candy scent of Pinkie's shampoo.
“Awww, thank you!” Pinkie beamed beneath her drinking buddy, the two of them slowly seeming to merge into a single pile of pony as the walk continued. By the time Pinkie had reached the door of Sugar Cube Corner, Berry was contentedly resting on her back, legs wrapped around her body and drunkenly singing into Pinkie's mane about her “pretty pink pillow.” Pinkie sat down at the front step, pouring Berry off of her back with a surprising amount of grace for the number of wine bottles the two of them had 'sampled' for Twilight's benefit.
“Wanna come in for a little something special?” Pinkie asked Berry, who was collecting her sprawled body into something vaguely resembling a sitting position.
With a silly grin on her face, Berry nodded rapidly. She wasn't quite sure what Pinkie was talking about: maybe it was a snack, maybe another drink, maybe even an invitation to spend the night. Whatever it was, Berry was game. She was game for anything tonight.
Anything except standing up. As she'd been nodding, her forelegs had slowly been crossing each other in front of her, meaning that after just a few nods Berry found her chin on the ground, her eyes angled up into two bright blue orbs that sparkled with suppressed laughter and fun. So much fun.
Ever since she'd started drinking with Pinkie, Berry hadn't woken up the next morning with a cold bed, mussed blankets, and a rapidly cooling imprint of shame and self-loathing next to her. She hadn’t had to scrub fluids of questionable origin out of her carpets. She hadn’t had to promise her daughter not to show up at school half-plastered again.
Pinkie Pie was turning Berry’s life around. And she was doing it without making her quit! As Berry grinned sheepishly up at Pinkie, the younger mare giggled at her antics and started to help her up to her hooves. No recrimination. No disappointment. No judgment. Pinkie simply offered acceptance of who she was, protection from the bad times, and companionship for the good.
For the third, and Berry was certain final, time in her life, she was in love.
“Well?” Pinkie giggled. “You’ve gotta stand up if you’re gonna come inside!”
Inside, right, that sounded good. Inside, with Pinkie Pie, that sounded very good.
Berry struggled up to her hooves, wobbling a bit as she got off of the ground, but not so badly as to end up falling again. Practice made perfect after all, and she’d had nearly enough practice at righting herself after one fall or another to earn a second cutie mark for it. Once she was standing, she followed Pinkie inside, swaying her hips more or less intentionally.
Pinkie closed the door behind her, leaving them in almost total darkness inside the sweet shop. Berry turned around to face Pinkie, catching a glimpse of her puffy hair moving in the darkness.
“We’re not gonna get in trouble with the Cakes, are we?” Berry asked in what she thought was her most seductive voice, stepping forward only to get a muzzle full of fluffy, cotton-candy scented tail as Pinkie slid past her teasingly, their coats brushing together briefly.
“Not if we go downstairs,” Pinkie giggled, pointing towards the door that was just visible in the moonlight streaming through the windows. “Go on! I’ll be right behind you!”
Berry walked towards the door carefully, not really thinking about how difficult it could prove to navigate stairs in her condition. When she was there though, opening the door and staring into the yawning black gulf ahead of her, that was a harder subject to ignore. She heard Pinkie rustling about in the kitchen while she hesitated, pots and pans clanking together with muted caution, and decided to give her potential playmate a little more time.
As she took in the scents of the bakery, something occurred to her.
Why would Pinkie be in the pots and –
“Pnygttnghtwfafrynpnsawha?” Came a muffled voice from behind her.
“What?” Berry asked, starting to turn around.
She barely had enough time to see Pinkie swinging the frying pan.
~Klang!~