//------------------------------//
// Underwear [TwiLuna] 
// Story: Pearple Juice With Bits 
// by Pearple Prose 
//------------------------------//

It was a mystery, is what it was. A mystery on par with the age of Applejack's hat — Twilight was sure it dated back to the Paleopony era — or even Pinkie Pie, dare she say it.

"Luna," said Twilight, "whose underpants are these?"

Unfortunately, hangovers were abound that morning, so that may have affected their perceptions somewhat.

"Blargh." Luna reflected. Twilight agreed. "Mine or yours?"

"They're pink."

"Pink?"

"Yes." Twilight confirmed. "Diabolically so."

"I don't have any pink underwear."

"Nor do I."

Twilight heard a ponderous hum from the blue lump on her bed. "Anything else?"

Sniff. "They smell like elder flowers."

"Huh." Pause. "Wait, how can you tell?"

"Experiments."

Luna nodded. "Ah, of course." She said, as if that made all the sense in the world. (And it did. Finding Leylines requires a trained whiff sensory device, as discovered by Starsmell the Bearded in 50 B.D. (Before Discord)).

"So," said Luna, after a time, "where does that leave us?"

"Well, they're not yours. Your rump smells like blueberries."

"And yours carries the scent of lavender. Quite splendid."

Twilight nodded thoughtfully. Then she stopped. She looked back at her flank. Her eyes widened, with the look of someone who had just comprehended something they had never dared to comprehend before.

"Luna." She breathed.

"Mrrrgh." Luna threatened. "What?"

"We don't wear underwear."

The library bedroom was silent as the grave. Or as quiet as a library is generally supposed to be.

"... What."

"I don't know."

"Is there... some kind of panty pilferer on the loose?"

Twilight mulled over the question. "But we have not lost any panties. Rather, we have acquired them. We do have a sock thief, though."

"Really?"

"Well, you try explaining how they keep disappearing." Luna had to concede that point.

The two lovers sat in silence for a while, listening to the song of the morning birds.

"So."

"So."

"... Want to snuggle?"

"Of course."

And they totally did.

A second later, the bathroom door opened, heralded by the flush of the toilet and a faint smell of elder flower. A dripping wet Rarity stepped out, towel perched on her head, akin to a bird's nest.

"Good morning!" She sang, far too cheerily. "Have either of you seen my underwear?"

The Amorphous Mass of Snuggle considered unwrapping itself. It opted in favour of remaining adorable.