Bulk Biceps was not a chef by any stretch of the imagination. He was very good at making wheatgrass shakes, cereal, and he was very good at making toast; but that was about where his culinary skills ended.
So thus it was that he was reading a foal's cookbook that had come from some traveling book fair that had visited his little brother's school. Even so, some of these recipes seemed quite difficult. Things like tbsp and fl oz and other words that didn't make sense littered the page. Clearly, the instructions to 'ask an adult for help before starting' were flawed, as he was an adult and felt out of his league.
His nervousness didn't help, either. Fluttershy was coming over tonight, and it needed to be perfect. Literally perfect.
He had just about resigned himself to ordering takeout instead when he heard a small hoof scuff behind him. Featherweight stood there, head cocked curiously. He'd probably been standing there a while before making the noise.
Bulk Biceps grinned sheepishly and tried to hide the book behind his body, but Featherweight had already seen. Featherweight squinted curiously, and then his eyes widened in understanding. He raised a hoof and drew the outline of Fluttershy's mane, looking questioningly at Bulk.
“Yeah,” Bulk Biceps said, with just the tiniest bit of a blush.
Featherweight's mouth curled up evilly, and he couldn't prevent a hoof from twitching towards where his camera would sit on his neck.
“No,” Bulk Biceps said firmly.
Featherweight didn't flinch.
Bulk exhaled, defeated. Featherweight had him by the ears. Even if he did tie him to the bed with one of his barbells on his chest to trap him (something he hadn't done to his brother in years), Featherweight would get out. At times Bulk could swear his cutie mark was for getting into places he wasn't supposed to go.
Sighing, he withdrew a five bit piece from under his wing and held it out in offering.
Featherweight glanced down and then looked back up, managing to look offended just by blinking, without even changing his expression.
Bulk glared, but Featherweight stood firm. Grumbling under his breath, he pulled out his last five bit piece, and Featherweight snatched them both from his hoof.
Satisfied that his evening with Fluttershy would be uninterrupted, he turned back towards the book on the counter… and nearly flattened Featherweight, who now stood behind him.
Completely oblivious to the fact that he had almost gotten crushed under his much larger sibling, Featherweight reached for the cookbook and flipped through its pages. He soon found what he was looking for, and slid it over. Bulk Biceps peered over his little shoulder and read.
Simple Spaghetti with Easy Cheesy Garlic Bread
Simple and easy were good words, and cheesy wasn't so bad itself. With a grateful (if mildly begrudging) nod to his little brother, he began assembling the ingredients. Featherweight grinned and happily trotted off.
* * *
Bulk Biceps had finished the bread and had just about measured out three cups of water when he was suddenly surprised by the sound of hacking and coughing. He spun around, barely managing to not spill any of the water, and saw Featherweight, choking on the ground. A stolen garlic breadstick with a bite out of it lay on the floor.
Seeing as how Featherweight wasn't in any mortal danger, Bulk spared a chuckle; which quickly dissolved into silent horror. That could have been Fluttershy choking on his garlic bread, and that would have ruined everything.
Featherweight grabbed the measuring cup of water from Bulk's hooves and chugged it. Then he tossed it down, scowled at his brother, and spread out his hooves, wordlessly demanding an explanation.
Bulk innocently pointed at the cookbook, claiming plausible deniability.
Featherweight scowled. Shaking his head in exasperation, he trotted over to the counter and scanned the ingredient list, and he soon found the culprit. He picked up the large spoon still caked with garlic powder and held it out.
Bulk nodded. It had said sprinkle heaping spoonfuls on top of the bread.
Featherweight facehoofed. He tossed the spoon into the sink, trudged over to the cutlery drawer, opened it, and held out a teaspoon.
Bulk frowned. If they'd wanted a teaspoon, why didn't they just say-?
Oh.
Tsp. Teaspoon. Like Tshirt, but not.
Scowling right back, Bulk Biceps snatched the spoon out of his brother's hooves and returned to the counter. Satisfied, Featherweight turned to trot away… only to be stopped by his brother grabbing hold of his tail with his teeth and dragging him back. Bulk placed a hoof firmly on Featherweight's chest, pressing him against the counter. With a curt nod, he let him know that that was right where he was staying.
Featherweight grimaced as he realized that he had just 'volunteered' as resident taste tester.
* * *
Finally, with a generous dash of feta cheese atop the salad, Featherweight was satisfied. He turned to Bulk Biceps and nodded, pronouncing it good.
“Yeah!” Bulk said, pleased with how this had all turned out. He held out a hoof for bumping, and Featherweight returned it.
Then both froze as there came a quiet knock on the door.
Bulk Biceps sprang into action, bumping Featherweight with his head and quite literally pushing him outside through the back door (which had been left open after a particularly bad batch of bread). Then he slammed the door, sprinted back, and opened the front door.
There she was.
Fluttershy.
“Am I too early?” She scuffed a hoof on the ground nervously. “I didn't mean to be if I am…”
Bulk chuckled and shook his head. He would never not be happy to see Fluttershy, early or late. He turned and, with a head gesture, invited her inside.
As she passed him, he suddenly became keenly aware that he still smelled like sweat and kitchen accidents. He froze. Fluttershy didn't seem to mind (or if she did, she hid it well), but he was still nervous.
And he couldn't be nervous for tonight.
* * *
One of the things he liked best about Fluttershy was the fact that she let him be him. She didn't require deep conversation or anything; she was perfectly content to eat in silence, their only communication being glances, smiles, playful winks, and slight blushing when eye contact was held for too long.
But as their dinner continued, Bulk began to worry. Did she like the food? Did she want anything else? He needed this to be perfect.
Fluttershy, always observant, noticed his discomfort, and set down her fork. “Are you all right?” she asked.
“Y- yeah,” Bulk lied.
Fluttershy slid her chair back. “A-are you sure? Because I can come back another night if-”
“No!” She couldn't leave yet! Bulk Biceps rushed over and placed his hooves on her shoulders, pushing her gently but firmly back down on the chair.
Fluttershy paused. Her eyes flicked over to his hooves, then back up at him. “Bulk Biceps, what's going on?” she asked, confusion (and a hint of trepidation) in her voice.
Bulk realized that that might have been too rough. He quickly released his hooves and then, after a brief inner struggle, knew it was time to just buck up and do it.
He closed his eyes, bowed his head, and pulled from under a wing one of his primary feathers. This was not just any feather; it had been fashioned into a necklace, using a hoof-woven material. Aside from the feather which hung from the necklace, other important items were hung. Two tiny silver charms also hung, one fashioned into a tiny butterfly glistening with tiny gems on one side, and the other small dumbbell on the opposite side.
In other words, the perfect item for asking Fluttershy to marry him.
His head was bowed as he held out the offering, as per pegasus tradition, so he couldn't see her reaction.
He could, however, hear a gasp.
And, after what felt like an agonizingly long moment, he felt himself rolling backwards as Fluttershy tackled him into a tight hug and rubbed their noses together.
* * *
Bulk Biceps quite literally skipped inside the house. Walking Fluttershy home had been great enough; she walked with her flank pressed up against his and even brushed her wing up against his cutie mark once or twice along the way when she thought no one else was watching.
But when they'd gotten to her house, she had kissed him on the lips and had even spread her wings for him.
Of course, he only got one good caress in before her shyness overcame her and she squeaked and blushed furiously and clamped her wings against her sides and hid under her mane; but she had clearly enjoyed it while it had lasted.
And judging from how she had looked both ways before whispering that he should come over tomorrow for tea, just the two of them, he would soon get that chance again.
He opened the door to his bedroom and paused. There on his pillow was a large Manila envelope.
Strange, he mused. Mail usually came in the morning. Still, he was curious, and slid it open and dumped the contents out.
A sheet of glossy paper fluttered to the bed. He picked it up and gasped. It was a picture of Fluttershy, at their table, captured clasping her hooves to her mouth at the exact moment Bulk had held out his offering. Her eyes were wide and glistening with happy tears. He had never seen her so happy. This was a moment he wished he could have seen, and a picture he would definitely treasure.
He looked down and saw his two five bit pieces on the blanket as well. Bulk Biceps couldn't help but chuckle. Oh, Featherweight… He was a good kid, and Bulk mentally promised to take him out for ice cream next week after his next paycheck.
His expression soured somewhat as he noticed another thing that had fallen out of the envelope and was now sitting cheekily face up on the bed.
A safe sex pamphlet, also from that book fair. Featherweight must have swiped it when no one was looking.
Bulk Biceps scowled, crinkled it up, and tossed it at his trash can. He could almost swear he could hear his brother, laughing his feathers off from somewhere else in the house. Well, the joke was on him; he was going to get one doozy of a noogie tomorrow, right when he least expected it.
Bulk's frown softened slightly. Well, maybe. But he'd definitely get the ice cream.