Bulk Biceps froze. The blood drained from his face and his wings clenched tightly against his body. He couldn’t. He couldn’t! There was no way he possibly could! How was he supposed to respond to that?
Fluttershy swallowed. “M- maybe you didn’t hear me,” she said, worrying. She was a very quiet pony, and sometimes others just couldn't hear her. She spoke up again, a bit louder this time. “I was wondering if you’d like to come with me to see the butterfly migration. Last year Rainbow Dash came with me, but this year I’d- I'd really like it if you came. If you want to, that is.”
“Y- yeah,” Bulk Biceps said shakily. He glanced up at Fluttershy, and any hope he’d had of trying to think of a good excuse to back out melted at her innocent, excited expression. She had the sweetest smile. He couldn't let her down. He just couldn't. “Yeah,” he repeated. “I'll come.”
Fluttershy squeed excitedly and grabbed him in a tight hug, which Bulk Biceps was only too happy to return.
As she flew away, though, his stomach churned; and he hung his head the instant she disappeared from sight. What had he gotten himself into?
* * *
Bulk Biceps scowled angrily at nothing in particular as he bench pressed his weights. His forelegs burned, but not as badly as his anger inside. It just wasn't fair. It just wasn't right.
He, Bulk Biceps, arguably the strongest pony in town, was afraid.
Of butterflies.
Sure, they weren't all bad. Fluttershy had butterflies on her flank. They were cute. And also were just images. But real butterflies…
He shuddered and racked his barbell. It was break time. He grabbed the proffered towel and scrubbed at his mane, drying some of the frothy sweat off his neck. He looked back up and was entirely unsurprised to see Featherweight standing there, holding out a tall glass of water as well, which Bulk Biceps gratefully accepted.
When he'd drained it, he gave Featherweight a friendly smile. “What's up?”
Featherweight shrugged, and then nodded upwards at him, letting Bulk Biceps know that it was his turn to answer.
Bulk Biceps shrugged. “Nothing.”
Featherweight narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Something was up, and he knew it.
Bulk Biceps tried a disarming smile. “Would I lie to you, little bro?”
Featherweight scowled.
“It was one time!” Bulk Biceps protested, the incident Featherweight was thinking of instantly coming to mind. Featherweight had felt deeply betrayed and had avoided his brother like the plague for the better part of a month; and Bulk Biceps had never put pepper in an unattended drink again.
Featherweight tapped a forehoof, clearly still expecting an answer.
“Nothing's wrong,” Bulk Biceps said a bit too quickly. “Why would you think that?”
Featherweight looked flatly at him and pointed over at the calendar on the wall. Bulk Biceps followed his hoof and winced as he realized what he'd missed.
Today was a hind leg day, not a foreleg day.
Cursing his brother for being so observant, he tossed the towel at Featherweight's face and rolled back onto his back to resume his workout.
But after two reps, he felt the bar get a bit heavier, and he opened his eyes to see Featherweight balancing precariously on the bar. His wings were spread for balance and he glared determinedly. He wanted an answer, and he was determined to get one.
So Bulk Biceps carefully racked his weight, got off the bench, gently picked his brother up with his teeth by the nape of his neck, placed him outside the door, and shut it behind him.
* * *
Bulk Biceps adjusted his scrubs and then reached up and tied the headband firmly around his head. He grinned at himself in the mirror. Yeah! He was ready! He was going to rock this workday!
His grin faded somewhat as he saw Featherweight standing behind him, silently watching him.
He glared and shook his head. He wasn't telling.
One side of Featherweight's mouth curled up in a knowing half-smile, and he stepped backwards, slowly fading back into the shadows and out of sight. He had his ways.
Bulk Biceps couldn't suppress a small shudder.
* * *
Bulk Biceps came back inside the house, dropped himself on the couch, and exhaled, feeling exhausted but fulfilled. Having picked up a job at the spa was great. He got to meet a lot of new ponies and help them feel better.
He also ended up breaking a lot of walls, and that tended to come out of his paycheck. At least Featherweight hadn’t shown up. That whole shift, he had been looking over his shoulder, expecting to see his little brother out of the corner of his eye.
That had led to an awkward situation because of some sheer bad luck. Aloe seemed to be standing behind him every time he had checked for his brother, and after an angry glare from Lotus it became horrifyingly clear that it looked like he was checking out Aloe's flank. He had, of course, apologized profusely, explained the situation (which she seemed moderately disinclined to accept) and had hid in the bathroom in shame for his whole lunch break.
As he inhaled, though, it seemed like new life came into him. A sweet smell wafted through the air, and he floated along over to the kitchen.
Featherweight was hovering above the stove, wearing an apron just a bit too long for him (but honestly, most clothes were too big for his tiny frame). He looked back and grinned widely. He lifted up a tray and held it out invitingly, waving it in small circles to waft the scent over.
Lasagna. Bulk Biceps’ favorite dinner. Licking his lips, he ruffled Featherweight's mane and sat down at the table.
With a devious grin, Featherweight spread his wings and flew over, placing the lasagna in the center of the table. But he wasn't done yet. He flew back over to the kitchen. He grabbed a thick cloth in his mouth and opened the oven.
Bulk Biceps' jaw dropped. Oatmeal cookies. Also his favorites.
He narrowed his eyes as Featherweight innocently sauntered back to the table with a plate full of cookies. Ooh, he was good.
But not good enough. He took one and shook his head at his brother. Still wasn't telling.
Featherweight folded his forelegs and huffed.
Bulk Biceps shoved the cookie in his mouth and chewed contentedly, his eyes subconsciously closing as he did. He swallowed and then reached for another… but he found the plate empty.
Confused and with his hoof still outstretched, he looked up at Featherweight, who still maintained his huffy expression. Except now, though, his apron seemed to be bulging out in more places than normal. His expression cracked only to stick his tongue out, revealing a cookie, before pulling it back into his mouth and chewing pointedly.
Bulk Biceps scowled. At least he still had lasagna.
* * *
Bulk Biceps reached up and tapped the cloud, stopping the warm water flow. He shook his short mane out and reached out for the towel.
His hoof hit nothing but air. He reached a few more times, but still could not find his towel. Scowling, he tore opened the curtain, looking for the elusive towel. He found it hanging from Featherweight's hoof. He held it out, as if making an offer.
An offer Bulk Biceps was not about to accept. He stepped out of the shower stall, looked Featherweight right in the eyes… and shook, sending water flying everywhere.
Featherweight, now with his mane drenched and hanging over his eyes, nodded once, then began drying himself off with the towel. Bulk Biceps reached for it, but Featherweight ducked under his hoof. He stuck his tongue out and dodged the reach, and darted out of the bathroom with the towel in tow.
Bulk Biceps scowled. He'd probably get the towel back in his bed tonight, under his covers and still wet.
But it wouldn’t work! He was not about to tell Featherweight that his older brother was afraid of butterflies!
Scowling (and still dripping water), Bulk Biceps trudged out and headed for outside. A quick fly would dry him off, and then he could find Featherweight and give him a noogie.
* * *
It was around noon when Bulk Biceps paused and set down his paintbrush. It had been a while since he’d seen Featherweight. He frowned. That probably meant he was up to no good. Just on a hunch, he sighed and looked up at the ceiling, as if frustrated. “Scram, Featherweight!”
There was a thunk, and Featherweight crawled out from under the desk, rubbing his head painfully from where he’d bumped it. He scowled at his brother and then trotted away with his nose and short tail up proudly, looking just like a cat who had accidentally fallen off a ledge and then staunchly pretended that nothing embarrassing had happened.
Bulk Biceps blinked. How had he hidden under there? His fur was a light cream color! He should have stuck out like a stray feather! Furthermore, why had he hidden there? Not in the bathroom, not under the bed, not even in the vent or outside; but under the desk?
Bulk Biceps snorted. He’d never understand his brother.
* * *
Bulk Biceps lifted the sack of wheatgrass seeds off the pantry. “Hey, Featherw- Featherweight?!” He jumped back.
Sure enough, his little brother's face grinned impishly back at him from the space where the wheatgrass had been.
Bulk Biceps placed a hoof over his pounding heart. “Stop doing that! How’d you get back there, anyway?” he demanded.
Featherweight looked down at himself and shrugged. Squirming like a worm, he slowly fed himself through the space and back out into the kitchen. He looked up expectantly at him.
Bulk Biceps sighed heavily. When Featherweight wanted to know something, he could be astoundingly persistent. It was already day three. If he wanted any peace this week, he'd have to tell. “Fine,” he grumbled, heading back to the table. He sat down and Featherweight sat across from him, hooves tucked under his chin as he sat expectantly.
“Butterflies,” Bulk Biceps blurted.
Featherweight cocked his head.
“Butterflies,” Bulk Biceps repeated, looking down. “I don't like butterflies.”
There was an odd sound coming from the other side. Quiet. Breathy. Repeated. Bulk Biceps hadn't heard it often, but he recognized it instantly.
Featherweight was laughing at him.
Scowling, Bulk Biceps pushed away from the table and came back with the evidence: A Foal's First Guide to Insects.
He flipped to the page and shuddered before holding it out. “See?” he demanded, shoving it in Featherweight's face.
Featherweight blinked, taken aback. The picture was a close up of a butterfly's mouthparts. Proboscis and antennae and huge, round compound eyes looked back at him.
“Scary, huh?” Bulk Biceps challenged.
Featherweight gave him a half-smile and shook his head. Instead, he pointed to the bottom of the page, at the credit line alongside the picture. Bulk Biceps tilted his head to read it.
Picture credit: Featherweight
Bulk Biceps scowled and snapped the book shut and tossed it away. “The point is, I don't like butterflies, and Fluttershy invited me to go watch the butterfly migration.”
Featherweight's eyes widened. Now he understood.
“And…” Bulk Biceps tapped his hooves together. “I said I'd go; but…”
Featherweight nodded. Since ancient history, pegasi had been all about showing that they'd be a great match for their partner; and being afraid of something Fluttershy loved would definitely make him look like an incompatible partner.
The thing was, Featherweight liked Fluttershy. She was very kind to him, she had a lovely singing voice, and she had never made any fuss about him not speaking. In fact, when she’d found out he didn’t, she had remained quiet too for the rest of the afternoon in a show of solidarity.
So really there was only one thing for Featherweight to do.
He leaned forward and pushed the sides of his brother's mouth upwards into a crude smile and gave him an encouraging nod. He would help.
Bulk Biceps snorted, but he really had no choice. “Thanks, bro,” he grumbled.
* * *
Bulk Biceps paced around the clearing. Featherweight had indicated that he should meet here and at this time; but hadn't specified why.
A movement startled him. He looked up at the sky, and then over at the tree nearby. It shook threateningly, and he took an unsteady step back.
And then something fell from the tree. Bulk Biceps jumped… and then froze.
Featherweight swung down from the branches, wearing an enormous butterfly costume.
Bulk Biceps burst out laughing. He couldn't help it. His brother looked so ridiculous! The compound eyes made of basketballs and the wings made of bedsheets and the antennae that had been old coat hangers and a party streamer for a proboscis; he just laughed.
Featherweight dropped the streamer as his mouth curled down in an indignant frown. He huffed, irritated. Clearly, his brother thought himself above this kind of thing. Maybe it was time to up the ante a bit.
He reached back into his saddlebag and pulled out a jar. With a devious smile, he checked to make sure his brother was still distracted before he unscrewed the perforated lid, releasing the creature within.
Bulk Biceps wiped at his eyes… and came face to face with a curious butterfly. He shrieked and turned tail and bravely ran away.
Featherweight watched him run. He snorted and nodded once. Served him right.
* * *
Bulk Biceps lifted a hoof and leaned to one side as a gaggle of young, giggling pegasus foals rushed past him, overeager and not paying attention to where they were flying. He looked up at Featherweight and narrowed an eye, wordlessly requesting an explanation.
In response, Featherweight merely smiled and waved him forward. Bulk Biceps sighed and trudged forward. He wasn't sure what good visiting the Cloudsdale Museum was going to do.
Once inside, the first thing he noticed was the hard floor. He tapped once. These must have been supercompressed clouds for visitors of all the tribes. Or maybe it was to make sure the exhibits didn't fall though. He glanced over at the metal armor and cracked a smile at the thought of it crashing through the floor and crash landing in front of some young foal in a field somewhere.
He suddenly became aware of a slight pressure on his flank. He glanced back and saw Featherweight, trying valiantly to push him forwards with both hooves.
Of course, he would have had better luck trying to move the whole museum.
Still, Bulk Biceps cracked a smile and humored his brother, walking forward in the direction he was pushing. They walked past the exhibits about the various kinds of clouds and past the unicorn wing.
Finally, they reached the animal exhibit. It started with the creatures that lived in the sky, mostly the various kinds of birds. He paused to squint at the two-headed eagle—how did it even eat?—but then he felt Featherweight pushing him onwards.
Bulk Biceps stepped into the next room… and froze. Little insects dotted the walls, their bodies pinned into place. They were everywhere, all shapes and sizes and colored in browns and grays and…
And…
And it didn't bother him.
It didn't bother him!
Bulk Biceps' chest swelled. He looked around triumphantly. He could do it! He could stand in the presence of butterflies! He looked back at Featherweight, but for some reason, he didn't seem too impressed. With a perfectly flat, deadpan expression, he raised a hoof and pointed at a sign on the wall.
Moths. These were moths, not butterflies.
Bulk Biceps chuckled sheepishly.
Featherweight rolled his eyes and kept walking.
The next room had the butterflies. Just looking in made Bulk Biceps' short tail clamp down nervously, but he pressed on anyway.
He stepped into the room and took a steadying breath. It was ok. He could do this. He looked back and saw Featherweight, eagerly nodding his encouragement. He stepped forward. He could do this. He could do this.
He slowly looked around, and he could almost hear screeching violins of horror. He spun around but everywhere he looked it was nothing but butterflies.
Butterflies.
He couldn't do this.
With a fearful screech, he turned tail and ran for the door. Unfortunately, his panicked rotations had disoriented him, and though he expected a doorway, he crashed right through a wall instead.
A showering of glass and chunks of cloud rained down on his head. Bulk Biceps sighed. He glanced over at the snake next to him. It was fake; but it looked to be directly eye-level with him. In fact, it seemed to be looking right at him, almost judgingly. He scowled at it. “What're you looking at?” he demanded of it before getting up and brushing himself off.
Featherweight shuddered, hovering in the air as high as he could. Why did it have to be snakes? And why was his brother ok with snakes but not butterflies? Featherweight shook his head. And Bulk Biceps thought he was weird.
And then he felt the tap on his shoulder from a security guard.
* * *
Featherweight carried a small bundle of crayons in his mouth over to the table. So what if they'd each been given year-long bans from the museum? There were still plenty of options to try and decrease his brother's fear. He set the bundle down and spread the paper across the table.
Bulk Biceps raised an eyebrow.
Featherweight picked up a crayon in his mouth and looked up expectantly.
Bulk Biceps raised his eyebrow further.
Featherweight rolled the crayon in his mouth expectantly. Bulk Biceps sighed and reluctantly picked up a green crayon. Satisfied, Featherweight pulled a piece of paper in front of him and then sketched out a crude drawing, and held it up.
A butterfly.
Bulk Biceps blinked. Hopefully, Featherweight hadn’t seen him flinch.
Featherweight set the paper down and nodded encouragingly, letting Bulk Biceps know that it was his turn.
Bulk Biceps looked down at the paper blankly. He hadn’t drawn in a long time, and he had certainly never drawn a butterfly. Still, what could it hurt? He leaned down and began to draw.
Featherweight squinted as his brother drew. Something didn’t look quite right. He pushed back from his seat and flew around, checking on his brother’s progress.
He had drawn a barbell.
Featherweight facehoofed. He landed on the table and kicked another piece of paper on top of Bulk Biceps’ drawing. One more time.
Bulk Biceps shrugged. He picked up a yellow crayon and began drawing once more. Featherweight trotted back over to his side of the table, giving his brother his space. He picked up a crayon and also began drawing.
His ears pricked up as he heard his brother actually drawing this time. The sound of crayon on paper filled the house, and Featherweight grinned. It had been a good idea!
When Bulk Biceps slowed, Featherweight decided to fly over and see what he had drawn. With a quiet flutter, he flew up and
Fluttershy. His brother had drawn Fluttershy.
Featherweight snickered. He nodded encouragingly. Try again. He returned to his own side and reached for his own yellow crayon, and also began drawing.
Not wanting to be one-upped by his brother, Bulk Biceps tried again. This time, he really and truly tried to draw a butterfly.
He managed to make it through two of the wings before he shuddered, sending thick zigzag lines across his drawing. He spat the crayon out and glared at his messed up drawing before flicking a hoof and sending it fluttering to the floor.
Featherweight didn’t look up, too engrossed in his own drawing to even flick an ear. Intrigued and morbidly curious as to what he was drawing, Bulk Biceps got up and walked around the table.
It was a picture of him and Fluttershy, sitting in a tree, wings flared wide and kissing. He'd even added little blue drops falling from their mouths, results of their sloppy kissing.
He reached out for Featherweight, but the little pony was faster; he ducked under his hoof, grabbed the paper in his mouth, and darted away. Bulk Biceps took flight and chased him, but Featherweight dove through an open window. Bulk Biceps tried to follow, but his wide shoulders got stuck in the narrow window, and he hadn’t had a good enough head start to break through the wall. He struggled, but his hooves couldn’t get purchase against the floor. “Featherweight!” he called.
More of that light, breathy laughing. Bulk Biceps scowled and pulled himself back in, bringing the window frame with him like some sort of square, bulky necklace. Tonight, Featherweight was going to get it!
No, wait. Tonight it was Featherweight’s turn to make dinner.
Tomorrow night, then. Tomorrow night Featherweight would…
Wait.
He looked back over at the calendar, suddenly remembering that it had other functions besides reminding him which day was foreleg day and which was hind leg day.
Tomorrow was his date with Fluttershy.
He bent over and buried his face in his hooves. It was hopeless! He’d never overcome this fear!
Featherweight, hiding in the bushes, watched through the hole where the window had been. Half of the fun in getting a rise out of his brother was the chase part, but Bulk Biceps wasn’t doing any chasing.
In fact, it seemed as though he were trying to hold back tears.
There was only one thing to do.
Bulk Biceps looked up at the sound of a hoof scuffing against the ground. Featherweight was there, standing in front of him. He leaned in and gave Bulk Biceps a comforting hug and patted his shoulder. Surely, Fluttershy would understand.
Right?
* * *
Bulk Biceps lay reclined on the couch, looking up at the ceiling, only looking away to look at the clock, which ticked down unforgivingly to the time he was supposed to be at Fluttershy’s house.
He looked back up at the ceiling and exhaled. Even the sound of the light rain didn’t calm him, and it usually did-
Wait.
Rain?
Bulk Biceps sat up and looked out the window.
At least, he tried; but the cardboard he’d placed over the hole blocked his view. Scowling, he trotted over and lifted up the cardboard and peeked outside.
Sure enough, it was raining.
Butterflies couldn’t fly in the rain.
Bulk Biceps nearly tipped over the couch as he scrambled over. Fluttershy would be sad about that, and he would be there for her!
He flew as fast as he could above town, heading for Fluttershy’s cottage. His teeth were gritted in concentration. He had to get there!
It wasn’t long before he arrived at her cottage. As he arrived, he saw her, laying on her back out in her front lawn. At first, he thought she'd passed out, or worse.
To his surprise, though, as he approached, he saw that she was smiling.
She jumped as he approached, but then the smile came back. “The migration’s been postponed,” she said. “A pretty bad weather storm from over Las Pegasus came through and the poor butterflies wouldn’t make it.”
Bulk Biceps nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said.
Fluttershy giggled. “Don’t be,” she said, patting the ground next to her. “I've always liked the rain.”
Bulk Biceps couldn't help but smile. “Yeah. So do I,” he said, sliding down.
“Besides, the butterflies can fly again tomorrow.”
Bulk Biceps twitched, but then relaxed. That would be a problem for another day.
And together, they lay on their backs, and just enjoyed the rain in each others’ company.
* * *
Featherweight grinned as he hovered in the air, his mouth full of a cookie of Fluttershy's baking. These were really delicious. He really hoped his brother would get a move on; he wouldn’t mind having the yellow pegasus around the whole time.
But seriously. These were really good biscuits. He glanced down at the box to see if she had written the recipe somewhere; but the only label was a drawing of a rabbit…
Oh.
He glanced over towards the ground, and the rabbit angrily chattering at him and stomping his paws in between angry jumps for his tail suddenly made sense. They were animal treats.
Featherweight shrugged and then tossed one more into his mouth. Not bad.