//------------------------------// // Pillow Talk // Story: ‘Til Sunday Do Us Part // by BlazzingInferno //------------------------------//         Snow coated every window in the boutique. Ponyville was in the midst of its biggest snowstorm of the season, which made Rarity’s current activity, planning a new spring line, even harder. She could only do so much to heat up the shop itself, which forced her to bundle up in all of her warmest clothing, or at least as much of it as fashion would permit.         A few rudimentary designs were pinned to the cork board above her work table, but none of them were what she’d consider inspired. Where had the week gone? It was Wednesday night, and she still hadn’t made significant headway on her next collection. Instead of dressmaking, she often found herself doodling. She glanced down at what her subconscious had been up to this time and found a page full of wedding veils, trains, and rings. Even her own mind was mocking the predicament she’d created.         The front door flew open and the wind howled through the shop. “Spikey, be a dear and shut that. It’s cold enough in here already.”         Her quill made curlycues across her paper while the wind continued to roar in her ears. For some reason, her creative vision was stuck on abstractionism, the exact opposite of her intent. A shiver traveled up her back and the quill nib tore through the paper. She threw it aside and pounded her hooves on the table. “Spike, shut the door!”         Countless unpleasantries flew through her mind as she trotted to the front of the shop. Snow had already dusted the winter coats on the display rack, and the edge of the carpet was buried under a quarter-inch of white.         Spike was wedged between the door and the wall, pushing on it with all his might. “It… won’t… budge!”         Her horn lit up and the whole door glowed blue. A gentle rattle shook the ice out of the hinges and allowed the door to swing shut. “There. It’s closed. Please clean up the mess you’ve made, Spike. I still have work to do.”         “Hey, all that snow is the door’s fault, not mine.”         “I suppose… but would you please clean it up anyway, Spikey-Wikey?”         “Aww, but I’ve been working on the castle all day! I’m not even going to have the first floor finished before the week’s over. Did you at least make dinner tonight?”         Rarity put a hoof over her eyes. “Ugh, no. What with the terrible time I’ve been having with my work, I completely forgot.”         Spike unwound the scarf wrapped around his neck and dropped it on the indoor snow drift. “That’s just great. I work all day, walk home in a snowstorm, and you didn’t even think about me getting hungry?”         “Now see here, Spike. I’ve had a long and grueling day, too. My being the wife doesn’t mean I should be stuck with all of the household responsibilities.”         “But you don’t do any of them! Every day when I get home it’s ‘Spike do this,’ and ‘Spike do that.’”         She glowered at him. “I’ll have you know I do far more than my fair share; you just don’t pay attention. Is it so much to ask that you take notice of me like you used to? There was a time when I could hardly take a breath without you paying me a compliment, and now all you do is come home at odd hours and demand to be fed. Even Sweetie Belle makes a greater effort to appreciate me.”         Spike folded his arms and turned away. “Well, you don’t appreciate me either… you never have. I’m done being your assistant, too! I-If you want somepony to say nice things to you… you should try a mirror.”         Rarity’s blood boiled. He wasn’t the only one who could breath fire. “Spike! If you don’t take that back this instant, I’ll—”         A loud thump on the door startled them both, as did the voice on the other side of it. Applejack’s orange hoof wiped a layer of snow off the window and she knocked again. “Rarity? Spike? You two home?”         Rarity’s attempted reply came out as a squeak. She wiped a foreleg across her face, and found it wet. How long had she been crying?         “S-Spike,” she whispered, “…no, never mind. I’ll get it.”         She turned the handle and pulled the door open. “Come… come in, Applejack. To what do we owe this pleasure?”         Applejack had a wooden box and good deal of snow balanced on her back. She removed her hat and frowned. “I’m awful sorry for what I said the other day. I got mad, but that’s no excuse for giving y’all the cold shoulder. I brought you a little something to make up for it.”         She dusted off the box and opened the top. Nestled inside an insulating layer of blankets was a warm apple pie, fresh out of the oven. The smell of it set all their stomachs rumbling.         Spike sniffled and wiped his nose. “Th-thanks, Applejack. I guess we get to have dinner after all.”         Rarity’s heart sank; he was crying, too. “Yes, thank you. What with the bad weather, we haven’t seen any of our friends since the party on Sunday.”         Applejack looked from one of them to other and shut the box. “I gather things aren’t going too well?”         Rarity bowed her head. “You were right, Applejack, we’ve made a terrible mistake. That’s what you want to hear, isn’t it?”         “Nope, what I wanna hear is that you two were having an onion slicing contest just now.”         Spike shook his head. “No. Can’t we just eat the pie? Please?”         Applejack marched to the kitchen. “If you want that pie, you’re gonna have to have a sit-down with me. I might’ve walked out on you the other day, but that’s not happening tonight.”         Rarity and Spike reluctantly followed.         Applejack moved two chairs away from the kitchen table and set them facing each other. “Now, sit down here so we can talk.”         Rarity sat down and stared at her hooves. What good could Applejack possibly do? They’d already seen a professional marriage counselor, albeit by accident. The only pony who could do anything to help was the conveniently absent Twilight.         Applejack found a chair of her own and looked at Rarity. “I know ladies first is customary and all, but do you mind if we let Spike start us off, Rarity? Poor fella looks like he might explode if we don’t.”         Rarity shook her head. “That’s fine. Go ahead, Spike.”         “What do I say?” he whispered.         Applejack moved closer to him. “How about this: forget all the crazy that led up to now, and just tell me what in this marriage ain’t working for you.”         “I… uh…”         “Come on, sugarcube, we all know you’ve been sweet on Rarity since forever, so how come you’re not smiling all day and night?”         Spike looked down at his feet. “Because… because she doesn’t care about me the way I do for her. I’m just her assistant, like I am for Twilight. If we were married… you know… for real, I’d want to get to make decisions, too… and I don’t want to get stuck doing the chores, or making dinner. I already work all day, I don’t want to do that when I get home, too.”         Applejack patted his shoulder. “Far as I’m concerned, this is real, Spike. You said your vows and made it all official. Even if you’re not sharing a bed, you’ve still got to live with each other. Your turn, Rarity.”         Rarity reluctantly lifted her gaze. Applejack was staring at her intently, and Spike was looking at the floor with his arms crossed. “Spike… used to treat me differently. Perhaps it was just his concealed feelings for me, but… he was always willing to help in any way he could, and always took the time to praise even the smallest of my accomplishments. That version of Spike… the one that would cater to my wishes, see to any tasks I leave out for him without complaint, and who thinks about me more than anypony else… that Spike sounds like the ideal husband.”         Applejack gripped each of their shoulders, turning herself into a bridge between them. “Rarity, Spike… I don’t have any nice way to say this: you’re the biggest fools I know. I’ve heard more reasonable stuff from Discord. You’re also two of my best friends, and I want you both to still be alive and kicking by the time Sunday rolls around. Now, I want you two to look at each other.”         Rarity found staring at Spike surprisingly easy, now that she was directing her displeasure at Applejack. Spike’s eyes, those deep pools of green still wet with tears, stared back at her. Staring was easy; speaking bordered on impossible.         Applejack spoke instead. “Now let me ask you both: are you friends? Do you care about each other, even just a little?”         Spike nodded immediately. “M-more than a little.”         Rarity nodded, too. “Of course I care.”         Applejack pressed on their shoulders with additional force. “That’s a marriage right there. It’s a partnership and commitment between the best of friends. If you two want to survive the rest of the week, that’s how you need to treat it. Divide up the chores, think about what the other one wants before what you want, and—” She gripped both chair backs and scooted them closer together. “—here’s the big one: you forgive each other for making mistakes, and that includes all the ones you’re gonna make the instant I walk out the door. Doesn’t even matter if they’re accidents or on purpose; you forgive, you learn, and you do better next time. So, since you care about each other, why don’t you hug this one out?”         Rarity shifted in her chair. Considering how the last few instances of physical contact with Spike had gone, even a friendly embrace seemed like a bad idea. Still, it was clear enough that she wasn’t going to be allowed to leave her chair without making an effort.         She slowly held up her forelegs, inviting the inevitable tackle from her dragon husband. Instead, he crept forward and gingerly wrapped his arms around her. The hug was brief and, amazingly enough, simple. A quick moment of closeness between friends, and nothing more.         The whole of the week came rushing back to her, and fresh tears soon followed. She hadn’t felt this awful since Fashion Week in Manehattan. Hadn’t she learned this lesson already? Nothing felt worse than taking advantage of a friend, and yet that’s just what she’d done when that accursed invitation arrived. “Please forgive me, Spikey.”         He nodded. “I’m so sorry, Rarity. I’ll try really hard to be the dragon you remember from before.”         “And I’ll try to treat you as an equal. Marriage or no, that should be the norm, not the exception.”         Applejack left her chair and retrieved the pie. “Now that’s more like it. I’ll never forget watching Granny Smith straighten out Ma and Pa after they had a fight… just count your lucky stars I gave you the short version. So, who wants a slice of this pie before it gets even colder?”         Rarity stood and returned her chair to its place at the table. “I believe we all do. I’ll get the plates and utensils, Spikey, if you’d be so kind as to help me clean up afterwards?”         Spike managed a smile. “Sure thing, Rarity. Hey, how about I do the dishes so you can finish your dressmaking stuff?”         She smiled back. “That’s quite all right. My dresses can wait. Tonight, what I need most of all is quality time with two of my closest friends.” ---         Rarity couldn’t stop smiling, not even as she readied herself for bed. She stood in front her bedroom mirror, running a brush through her mane and wiping off her smeared mascara. How could so much change in a single evening? How had Applejack bested a trained marriage counselor? Perhaps the ‘how’ wasn’t important. All that mattered was the peace she felt, a wonderful emotion that had been absent from her heart for far too long. Nothing soothed like an evening of carefree chat with two of her closest friends.         Tomorrow would be a better day, simply because she was sharing her home with a dear friend, and not an estranged spouse. The marriage was a formality. No amount of legal complications could tear down her and Spike’s friendship, not anymore. She’d never let that happen again.         There was a quiet knock on her bedroom door. “Rarity? Are you still awake?”         She set down the brush and opened the door. “Yes, Spikey. Did you need something?”         A fresh wave of ice-cold air accompanied Spike inside. “It’s the window; you’d better come see.”         Rarity followed him across the hall, growing colder with every step. When he pushed open the door to his own bedroom, she started shivering. The window over the bed was wide open, and the room was as cold as the wintery night outside. A gust of wind whistled by, sprinkling the bedspread with snow.         “Oh dear, Spike. What’s happened?”         “I don’t know, maybe the latch broke? I haven’t even been in here since this morning.”         The window glowed blue and swung shut. Rarity’s magic wasn’t as powerful at a distance, but she couldn’t bear to enter the snow-covered expanse that Spike was supposed to be sleeping in. “I believe you’re right; I can’t get it to lock. At least we know why the rest of the shop has been so cold all day. Could you please get me a towel from the bathroom? We should be able to use that to hold it closed.”         “Right.”         He ran off, leaving her alone in the doorway. How would she explain this mess to Sweetie Belle? It would be hard enough to justify having let a male friend occupy the room in her absence; it was another to explain why all of her possessions were frost-bitten.         Spike ran past her with a towel. He rolled it up and wedged it into the frame while she forced the window shut. That was enough to stop the incoming snow, but did nothing for the freezing temperature. “Thanks, R-Rarity.”         “Spike, your teeth are chattering,” Rarity said.         Spike forced a smile. “I’ll g-go sleep on the f-floor downstairs.”         “With what? One of those near-frozen blankets? Come.”         Rarity led him into her own room and shut the door behind them. Her bedroom was always the warmest in the building, and a bleak winter’s night was no exception. Heating up the rest of the shop, and defrosting the other bedroom, would have to wait until morning. For the time being, she needed to focus on phrasing what she said next very carefully.         “I don’t want you to freeze, Spike, but I do want to maintain the friendship Applejack just helped us rekindle. Provided you understand that this is merely an act of friendship, and expect nothing more… you can sleep in my bed.”         He stared at her, open-mouthed. “B-but where will you…”         In response, she retreated to her bedside, placed one of the spare pillows in the middle as a divider, and crawled in. “Goodnight, Spike.”         She felt him sit on the opposite side of the pillow a minute later. “Thanks, Rarity. You’re… you’re a really good friend to me. Goodnight.”