A Date With Scootaloo

by NotProud

A Second Date With Scootaloo

(A/N: Hello and welcome to part 2 of “A Date With Scootaloo”;
Also I used a spellcheck this time.
Please note that maybe the next parts will not be SFW.
As always,
I Am Not a Proud Pony
But This One I Can Be Proud Of
...For Now)

The zombie shambles forward, a low moan on its lips. The woman, one shoe missing and her top ripped and torn, staggered back, tripping over her remaining high heel and snapping it clean away. Tears roll down her face as she sobs helplessly, clutching at the mossy ground and screaming her lungs out.
“Yeah! Eat her brains, zombie!”
You sink down lower in your chair, hoping to avoid the stairs from other theater goers. Scootaloo is of course standing, leaning forward over the seat in front of her, arms raised above her head as she valiantly cheers the zombie hoard forward.
There's another scream and the sound of ripping flesh. Scootaloo cheers loudly and the other patrons start to yell at her.
“You damn kids, would you sit down?”
“Where the heck are your parents?”
“Can you all shut up? We're trying to watch the movie!”
You groan and cover your eyes and definitely do not watch the movie. You feel Scootaloo flump into the seat beside you at least.
“Oh man,” she says, no less enthusiastic but less loud, “here comes the guy with the chainsaw to ruin everything!” A roaring mechanical noise heralds the rending of zombious flesh, too late to save the heroine. “I take that back, this is just as cool as the zombies!”
You sigh.

“Man, that was wicked awesome!” Scootaloo is bouncing slightly as she walks beside you out of the movie theater. “You really know how to pick a movie, Lickety!”
You roll your eyes. “You picked it, remember?”
She flashes you a wicked grin. “Oh yeah, I forgot! Still, wasn't that awesome? All that blood and guts everywhere!”
You laugh, despite yourself. “Yeah, I guess it was. Glad you liked it, anyway.”
“Hey, as long as you're payin', you can take me to the movies whenever!”
That sure sounds promising. You find a spring making its way into your step as well.
This has been just your second date with Scootaloo, and although she's not the sappy romantic type (and face it, neither are you, really), she seems to be really open to the idea of you two being in a... a big-R word.
It's kind of scary, but more like going on a rollercoaster than standing on a high cliff. You haven't been moving too fast, and you've had a great time hanging around with her.
Of course, there are some... hangups. Speaking of which, here come two of them right now.
Apple Bloom is wearing her usual coveralls, that show off her figure if you look at her from the right angle. Sweetie Belle is dressed in a loose sweater despite it being a warm day, and her little poofy hat is cocked to one side on her head. She's such a hipster sometimes.
“Well howdy,” says Apple Bloom with a edge in to her voice. “Sure is a nice to day hang out with your FRIENDS, isn't it Sweetie?”
“Uh-huh.” She nods vigorously and somehow her hat stays on. “Why, I believe there are all kinds of things that FRIENDS can do on a day like today, aren't there, Apple Bloom?”
Scootaloo butts in. “Geez, girls, chill out. Lickety wanted to go see a movie, and I seem to recall the last time I did that with you two, somebody chickened out at the good part.”
Sweetie goes pale. “Well, maybe i-if you didn't like those gross horror movies so much...”
“Whatever,” Scootaloo says with a hand on her hip. “If you two wanna hang out, just say so, don't act all weird and stuff, geez.” She looks at you. “Mind if I take off?”
You shrug. You honestly hadn't planned anything after the movie.
“Cool. Seeya, Lick.”
She heads off in the direction you were going, but Apple Bloom and Sweetie close ranks behind her.
“Meet us after school tomorrow,” Apple Bloom says, her tone dark and sinister.
“Come alone,” Sweetie adds, her eyes narrows. Then they walk away, though they don't turn until after a few paces, keeping their eyes on you.
You swallow and feel a lump in your throat. What the crap just happened?

That evening, you get home and find your dad waiting for you with a grin.
“How'd my boy's big date go?” His voice is too loud, this means he's excited or hiding something.
“Pretty well, I guess. Her friends showed up and things got weird though.” You shrug and stuff your hands in your pockets.
“Swell, mah boi, just swell!” Dad claps you on the shoulder and almost knocks you over. “Say, you haven't forgotten about that little promise you made a week or so ago, have you?”
Sadly, you had until just now. No getting out of it, you suppose. “No dad, I haven't forgotten.” You sigh and let your shoulders slump. “What do I have to do?”
“Oh, nothing hard, nothing hard.” Your dad's grin gets evil. “It's just, I've been thinking that the storage room in back of the ol' shop has gotten pretty cramped and musty and disorganized. So you and me, we'll have a little father-son bonding while cleaning it out, what say?”
Hmm. “Well, I guess it could be worse.” It sure could have been. You were thinking about mucking outhouses or horse stables or digging ditches. This is going to be easy, if a lot of work. “All right, when do we get started?”
“How about right now?” Dad laughs, loudly, as though he's the only one who understands the joke. “We'll do a little here and a little there. Just when we have time.”
“All right, dad.” You smile. Hey, you could always find neat old crap in the storehouse. This might actually be fun!
...Right?

The threats of Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle are last on your mind as you walk to school the next morning, still sore from the evening's cleaning. Your first move into sorting the storage room with your dad involved far more of moving boxes around and clearing an area to work in than finding neat stuff to look through. You slept like a rock last night.
But what is more exciting is what you saw yesterday (it was Monday) on a bulletin board. A piece of blue paper that read,

To be honest, you'd all but forgotten how much you like playing football. After the injury during the summer which you broke your leg in before sixth grade and you had stopped playing during middle school. Then your studies became harder and the sport just dimmed out of your life, replaced by other pursuits. But you always really loved playing it, and now the chance to get back into it has you feeling like lightning is in your shoes. You only hope that you haven't gotten too out of shape in the past couple of years.
That thought makes you stop. What if you have got too out of shape? You haven't been doing any sport for the remaining years, and though you are still skinny like always, you might not have the stamina needed to run a lot.
Downcast, you turn from the poster, and then you catch a sight: the back of Scootaloo (and her sweet ass) headed down the hall away from you. That fake leg is what catches your attention. She finally got it replaced, and now she walks with a spring in her step, not literally, but she can without limping like she had been the past semester.
She did it, is what you think. And what that means is, she had a terrible accident and injured her leg, though hers is gone where yours was just broken. But she bounced back and now she runs track because she loves to do it. So if she could do that, there is no way you are going to let two years of not playing football stop you from taking it back up.
You lift your head up, nod to yourself, and go to the office of the gym teacher to sign up.

The rest of the day does not pass so easily. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle keep their eyes on you whenever you are anywhere near each other. By fourth period, they've seriously got under your skin. By the end of the day, you can swear they're watching from the vents in the ceiling. The whole time, they have this very serious expression that just creeps you the fuck out. Needless to say, you are not looking forward to meeting them after school, but you are also not going to chicken out. Your dad wouldn't let you live down being scared by a couple of girls if he ever found out.
Still, you are kind of wishing Scootaloo was around as they approach you behind the school when the final bell rings. With a sniff, you saddle up your rucksack and march out the back door. You are ready to take what's coming to you like a man.
It doesn't take you long to find Sweetie Belle lounged against a tree and then Apple Bloom shouts, “Hey Lickety, over here!”
Strange. After all that time they spent glaring at you in the halls, now they're both... smiling? You find yourself getting put to ease even as something in your mind shouts, “Wait, no, they're just trying to get your guard down!”
apple Bloom gets right to the point before you have a chance to act on that thought.
“Hey, Lickety, listen, Ah'm real sorry if'n we all scared ya. But this thing a-tween you 'n Scoots, well...”
“We want to make sure,” says Sweetie, “that you aren't going to take her away from us.”
“She's our friend.”
“We also want to make sure-” and here Sweetie crosses her arms and glares at you once more- “that you are a gentleman and treat her nice, because if you hurt so, so help me!”
“Girls, I...” You hold up your hands, hoping it will placate them. “Look, I don't wanna break up your friendship, promise. We've only been on two dates, it's not like we're getting married.”
They relax a bit. Apple Bloom smiles.
“And yeah, I'm not gonna do anything bad to her. Trust me, she could probably beat me up if I did.”
That gets a laugh out of Sweetie Belle.
“Okay then,” says Apple Bloom, and pats you on the shoulder. You realize that she's a good 10cm or so taller than you. “Then if'n you wanna, we all can hang out sometime, okay?”
Sweetie grins. “Yeah! And you can totally tell us about how you got your cutie mark! I know you've got one, right?”
You turn your eyes to the side. “Uh, yeah.” You roll up your right sleeve and show them the bowl of ice cream that's there.
Cutie marks show a person's talent, when they realize what it is they can do well and want to do in life. No one is really sure how or why they show up, but they can be anywhere on the body. Some people have even had them show up on their entire face, which can sometimes be bad, but usually those are artists and they make it part of their persona. It is more typical for a cutie mark to show up on the shoulder like yours, or on the hips or other easily-covered area. It's normal to show them off when you get them, no matter where they are.
“Huh.” Sweetie seems unimpressed. “Well, totally tell us sometime, okay?”
You shrug. “It's not a great story, but sure.”
“hey, what are you all talking about?”
You turn and see Scootaloo coming out of the school with her track bag. The other two turn and wave to her.
“Lickety, you gonna watch me practice today?”
You sigh. “Nah. I gotta go finish helping my old man with something. But I do wanna hang out sometime.”
“How about over the weekend?”
“Sure.”
Man, it feels so natural now. It's like you two aren't even talking about going out, you just say things and then something happens. Sweetie blows a whistle and when you look at her, she waggles her eyebrows.
“We'll watch ya, Scoot!” cries Apple Bloom. “Seeya later, Lickety!”
You wave as they take off toward the track, sigh again, and head for home.
It's not just the work involved, you realize. It's that you're not getting to spend time with her. Even in the company of her weird friends, that's all you want to do right now.
Of course, it could be that you just want to get out of work and be anywhere but helping your dad. Dumb feelings, why are they so hard to figure out?
But things might be getting serious between you and Scootaloo. That's exciting, far more than it is scary. You can't wait for the weekend.

The rest of the week sees you trying out for football and making it easily onto the team. You and the coach are both pleased with how much you remember about the game. You aren't the best player on the team, but you're definitely near the top and you don't have as much to learn that first practice to catch up, like some of the new players do. And sure, after the first practice, you are completely without breath, but it feels fun.
It's the kind of fun you haven't really felt in years. Just being able to run across the turf, whether you have the ball or not, conjures up memories of childhood spent in the warm sun. The feel of the ball bounding off your forehead or chest makes you feel powerful, like you could spin the world on its axis. You score a goal and even though it's practice you feel exhilarated. It's like you are a puzzle and a missing piece has come back to fill you in.
You'll have to see if you can get Scootaloo to watch you practice later, you think.
Doing this was such a great idea.

That Saturday, you meet Scootaloo in the park. Children are out with their parents, playing with dogs and kites, and the sky is blue with few clouds and full of laughter. It's a great day to not have to do anything.
“C'mon,” she says, taking your hand, “it's quieter over this way.”
She drags you into a more secluded part of the park with fewer trees. There are lots of flowers blooming and birds singing. One man is on a high hilltop in the distance with a spyglass, watching them. You hope he's not going to watch you, too. That would be creepy.
You both end up below a large spreading oak tree. It has lots of holes in the branches so when you lay down, you can see the sky pretty clearly. Scootaloo has a big grin on her face the entire time. When you're both laying down, side by side but not touching, she says, “I love coming here and watching the sky. Don't have to worry about a sunburn because of the tree. Sometimes I just come out here and watch the sky for hours.”
You have to admit, it's a great view.
You aren't there more than five minutes (you think) before your mind starts churning. You didn't come here just to “hang out”, you wanted to talk. Specifically, you wanted to ask her something. You have to swallow a few times, because your mouth is suddenly really dry, and instead of asking, you dodge the subject.
“Hey Scoot...”
“Yeah?” She turns her head toward you a little.
“Do you know what you want to do in life?”
Her eyes flick to the side. “Well, I guess not. I mean, since I don't have a cutie mark yet and all. I try not to think about it, really. I guess I've come to terms with the whole ”you'll know it when the time is right“ junk. More than Sweetie or Apple Bloom, anyway.” She laughs softly.
You nod. “But like, is there...” Aw, heck. “I mean, I just wondered, see...”
“About my leg?”
The quickness that she says it with surprises you and makes you forget what you were about to say.
“It's okay, everyone asks eventually.” She takes in a breath.
“When I was a kid, I was really obsessed with doing everything and doing it fast. I would just tear around everywhere at breakneck speed for no reason other than it made me feel good. I idolized Rainbow Dash. I mean I still do but I was way more... obsessive I guess. Back then.”
You nod again. You've gotten to know Rainbow Dash a little bit more since you've started hanging out with Scootaloo. She's an athlete, and you're pretty sure she either drives race cars or is a pilot, you haven't figured that out just yet. But now it all makes sense.
“Anyway,” she continues,“ I used to go everywhere, and I mean everywhere, on this beat-up little scooter I had since almost before I could walk. And, well...” She turns her head away from you. “One day, I was just going too fast. It was a freak accident. I came over the hill, right into a pickup truck. It wouldn't have been that bad, but the driver freaked out and lost control.” She begins to shake a little. “I got pinned up against a telephone pole.”
There's an awkward silence. A thousand thoughts race through your head. Should you say something? You reach out to try and be physically supportive, but she rolls back toward and you pull back sharply.
“It could've been a lot worse,” she says, and her face is deadly serious. She pulls up the sleeve of her shirt on the right side and you see a wicked scar running across the front of her bicep. “I almost lost my arm, too. Thinking back on it, I was lucky it turned out this way. I think I'd have had a way harder time without an arm.”
“I'm sorry.”
She shakes her head. “That's what everyone says. There's nothing to be sorry for and I don't want your pity.” She doesn't say it harshly, but she looks immediately apologetic. “It was my fault anyway.”
“If it makes you feel better,” you say, “the other day I signed up for soccer tryouts and I got in.”
She smiles. “Really? That's cool, but I don't see-”
“Hang on, geez, let me finish.” You stick your tongue out and it helps lighten the mood. “I wasn't gonna do it at first, because I haven't played since like sixth grade and I was afraid I'd be out of shape, but then I saw you and that changed my mind.”
Scootaloo gives you a funny look. “What?”
“I mean, you like... Well, What I mean is, I thought that maybe you had something you liked to do once, and I guess I was right. And then you had your accident and it didn't stop you from running, so why was I going to let not having played for a couple years stop me?” You think that's how you wanted to put it. “And I really enjoyed my first week of playing again, even if I'm a little out of shape. So like, uh... What I mean is...”
You suddenly feel very warm, and you notice that she's very close to you. She's watching you intently, like she's hanging on your words to see what you say next. You clear your throat and your words come out kind of strained.
“I just want to say, you inspired me.”
She smiles, then immediately tries to pretend like she didn't. There's a beat, and then you kiss her on the cheek. You don't know why you did it, you barely even noticed you were, but it just suddenly happened and there you both are.
Then she punches you in the shoulder.
“Ow, what was that for?”
She pouts at you. “What was that for? Aren't you supposed to wait until the third date for the mushy stuff or something? Geez.”
As you rub your shoulder, it dawns on you. “Uh, Scoot? This technically is our third date.”
Her eyes get wide and color rushes to her cheeks. “Oh.” She suddenly takes great interest in her hands, and they're not doing anything in particular. “Well, uh... Maybe we should, uh...”
She turns and plants one on your lips. You're surprised at first, but then you just go with it, and then suddenly it's over, and oh wow, you just got kissed by a girl and it was amazing. Your pants are tight again.
“Thanks,” she says softly. “For saying I inspired you. I'd rather that than people tell me they're sorry all the time.”
“It's true,” is all you can think to say.
She gives a little half-smile. “You know, I never did get another scooter after that one got wrecked...”
You suddenly hear a voice from behind you, off in the distance. “Hey, why don't you two kids get a room!” It's the man with the spyglass.
Laughing, she grabs your hand and drags you to your feet, then takes off running. “So I guess this means you're my boyfriend now!” she calls.
Somehow, you're totally okay with that.

The next week, your girlfriend comes to school on a shiny new scooter.