//------------------------------// // 18. I Wish You'd Stay // Story: Buggy and the Beast // by Georg //------------------------------// Buggy and the Beast I Wish You’d Stay The evening hours in Beet Salad’s apartment building were normally fairly quiet and dull, but while Nectarine continued to tap quietly on his friend’s door, a certain sense of tension began to extend through the hallway. “He probably just went to work early,” explained Nectarine to his looming cousin, who was one step behind him in a relaxed pose that was anything but. “You’ve got a key,” prompted Sergeant Roquefort. “You could just drop in and check on him. I promise, I’ll stay in the hallway,” he added with a roll of his eyes. “There’s going to be plenty of time to search it tomorrow morning after Princess Luna signs the warrant.” “Judge turned you down?” asked Nectarine before pulling his spare key out and unlocking the deadbolts. “Twice,” grumbled Roquefort. “Without a missing pony report, I’m stuck. Sultry Breeze is missing, but he won’t even listen. It’s like somepony got to the judge first.” The heavy deadbolt locks on Beet Salad’s apartment door gave a sharp click and the door swung open, but not very far. A bedraggled Beet Salad stood in the narrow doorway, looking as if he had gone seven rounds in the boxing ring with an aggressive lime sherbert, leaving him covered in drying green goo with bruises and a very distinctive bite mark on one ear. “Holy horseapples, Beets,” breathed Nectarine after soaking in the scene. “You got laid!” “No,” said Beets, although he offered no further explanation other than a deep sigh. “Well, can I come in?” asked Nectarine. “I know we’re a little early, but I can snag a muffin while you take your shower. You want one too, cuz?” he ventured over his shoulder at the looming Royal Guard. “Errr…” Roquefort seemed conflicted between running to get reinforcements in order to fend off an attacking changeling army or breaking down the partially-open door in order to rescue the goo-covered hostage, who was just standing there and blinking with the most peculiarly happy look on his greenish face. “They’re gone. The muffins, I mean,” said Beets. “We ate them between… Look, I really need to take my shower before work. Why don’t you—” The smaller form of a considerably more goo-covered pegasus mare slipped up to the door and planted a wet kiss on Beets’ cheek. “Hey, lovercolt. I got the shower warmed up. Hiya, Nek.” Sultry added a sticky kiss to the lips for the significantly stunned batpony and made as if to kiss Roquefort too, if the guard had not immediately backwinged up so fast he slammed into the wall on the other side of the hallway. “We’ve got time for a quickie, if you’re up for it.” “Sure,” volunteered Nectarine, only to back down at Beet Salad’s volcanic glare. “Shower only,” said Beets. “Nek, why don’t you and your cousin go grab breakfast while you’re waiting. I’ll be right out after I get cleaned up.” “Unless he isn’t,” added Sultry before closing the door and turning the deadbolts. * ♥ * It was a remarkably quiet evening at work, so incredibly normal and ordinary in fact that Beet Salad almost expected some massive cosmic karma backlash like an attacking dragon or a meteor to come dumping on his head. Despite the anticipation, he felt as if he had lost some enormous weight in his belly, leaving him free to almost glide across the docks on his patrol. There were an extraordinary number of days in his Port Authority leave balance which he had never actually spent on any extracurricular activities. The first steps in making a family of his own by taking a mare out to an amusement park or a concert before now would have been painful, but now he wished Sulty Breeze were actually a pony instead of a changeling so she could stay in town and go places with him. Maybe even stay with him on a permanent basis, even though it would cost ten bits more a month in rent from Missus Spitonoikokýris. It could never happen. There were too many ponies who suspected her of being a changeling and knew of her ties to him. Ponies were a deeply suspicious lot under the skin. There were still families who would not consider dating between tribes to be anything but socially unacceptable, let alone dating outside of their species. Ever since the wedding invasion, changelings had picked up some weird reputation of being superbugs, able to infiltrate even the highest security installations with the intent of causing chaos and destruction. It might have even had some basis in truth, as the admitted behavior of two changelings in Baltimare would be a fairly small sample set to compare against the rest of her hive. Plus, Sultry was admittedly odd to start with. It just could never happen between them. But he still considered it. Needless to say, his normal thought-filled evening walk through the Port Authority grounds was filled with far more than the usual number of thoughts. Lunch, however, left Beet Salad with a happy thoughtful smile as he unpacked the food out of the large paper sack and distributed two plastic cups full of mango slices labelled ‘BatBug’ and ‘BatStud’ to his two companions, even though Nectarine wanted to claim them both. Roquefort eyed the fruit suspiciously while chewing on his hay sandwich. “How do I know they aren’t full of some changeling drug to keep me from searching your apartment tomorrow morning?” Beet Salad checked his watch. “You mean this morning, Sergeant Roquefort? Two things. First, I packed those myself.” “Wow, Beets,” said Nectarine around a mouthful of mangos. “I had no idea you were a gourmet cook.” “Second,” continued Beets with a little more force, “Sultry’s already gone.” “What!” Half-chewed bits of Roquefort’s hay sandwich splattered out across the outdoor picnic table before he rose up into the air to sprint back to Beet Salad’s apartment. “She’s been gone for hours,” called out Beets. “She was only there long enough to recover, and now that she’s feeling back to her regular self, she’s gone back home.” The Night Guard paused almost out of sight before flapping back rather cautiously and settling back down at his seat. “You’re sure?” “Positive.” Beets picked up a cherry tomato out of his salad and regarded it with a certain reluctance before popping it into his mouth. “She was just going to flush the remainders of her cocoon and leave after I was gone. She’s had a couple hours to vanish into the city, so you’ll never find her now.” Roquefort’s eyes narrowed and he glared at Beets. “How do I know you’re not really the changeling and the real Beet Salad isn’t all cocooned up back at the apartment?” Beets lit his horn with the changeling detection spell and tried to look as smug as possible. Under the pale greenish light, the kiss on Nectarine’s lips fairly glowed a neon green, as well as a few spats and splatters of random green across Roquefort’s dark grey coat, but neither of the glows explained the way both of their jaws dropped while they looked back at him. Or at least it did not explain it until Beets took a look at himself. Even if he had been dunked in a vat of fluorescent green paint, Beet Salad could not have emitted a more continuous and radiant green glow across every bit of coat and hoof, and he suspected a mirror would reveal the same about his head and horn. What was worse, the green glow of changeling magic from his coat shimmered in a beautiful soft iridescent diffraction pattern that most fashion models would give anything to have applied to their own coats. “Dang.” Nectarine pursed his lips and gave a low whistle. “And I thought I had some wild weekends.” “Waitaminute, wait just one minute!” demanded Sergeant Roquefort while he crouched down into a combat pose. “You’re not really Beet Salad. You’re a changeling!” Beets turned off his magic and looked over at Nectarine, who appeared to be a little disconcerted at the concept of a male changeling, as well as a look of consideration which Beets knew was going to end in a clever pickup line. Not giving Nectarine enough time to finish his inevitable pass, Beets promptly asked, “Prejudiced much, Sergeant Roquefort? Didn’t Nek sneak a griffon hooker into your barracks for you a week before graduation?” “No, that was Peach Blossom,” said Nectarine, waving a hoof while still concentrating on his next words. “He’s not the one who got caught on a rooftop with Ambassador Goodfeather’s twin daughters and a weathervane, was he?” asked Beets. “No, that was… me, actually.” Nectarine grimaced and looked away. “Darn it, Beets. I’m trying to think.” “About sex.” “Well.” Nectarine looked back up at Beets and waggled an eyebrow. “Yeah. So?” Beets nodded towards Sergeant Roquefort, who was still in his combat crouch, waiting for the ‘changeling’ to move. “Do you mind calling off your cousin?” “Sure.” Nectarine waved a hoof at Roquefort, who was still as tense as a coiled spring. “Relax, Rocco. It’s Beets.” “How can you be certain?” asked the guard while not relaxing his attentive stance one bit. “If he was a changeling, would he be stupid enough to cast a changeling detection spell on himself?” pointed out Nectarine. “Beets has never been the brightest bulb in the package.” “True,” admitted Roquefort, relaxing somewhat and nodding. “Hey!” objected Beet Salad. “After all,” continued Nectarine, “he was jello wrestling with his sexy roommate all weekend and he still never managed to score. Obviously a sign of low intelligence or a really poor education despite all of my best efforts.” “Certainly,” agreed Roquefort, relaxing some more and seeming to enjoy Beet Salad’s discomfort far more than a serving officer of the Royal Guard should. “Unless changelings have sex in some weird fashion. Did she stick her tongue in your ear?” “No!” snapped Beets, although both of his ears flattened against his head in reflex. “Tell me you at least got to preen her wings,” said Nectarine. “All weekend and not even second base would disqualify you from stallionhood, even if she was covered in green goop.” “I…” Beets hesitated, and Roquefort pounced. “I think that’s a yes,” he said with a smirk. “There’s hope for your friend yet, Nek.” “We were showering in the tub and she needed help putting her wing conditioner in,” said Beets rather stiffly. “Ooo, wingsies,” cooed Nectarine. “That’s an awfully small bathtub you’ve got, Beets. You two practically had to be stacked on top of each other.” “The two of you covered in soap. Nibbling on her wings,” prompted Roquefort. “And you expect us to believe you didn’t have sex with her?” Beets simply bit his bottom lip and tried his best not to look guilty. It failed. “Whoa,” said Nectarine with a huge grin. “So you did get sex?” “It depends on what you define as sex,” hissed Beets, his ears almost a bright cherry red. * ♥ * Beet Salad was very glad for a long walk by himself for the rest of the evening, enjoying the cool morning breeze without his bothersome friend trying to find out very personal and embarrassing details about his last few hours with Sultry. He should have been more depressed at having her out of his life for good, but Beets suspected the changeling had been a little more selective about which emotions to consume yesterday than she used for the rest of her victims. He could even think about his parents and his little brother without crushing pressure on his chest any more, which was far more progress with his mental issues than the psychologist had ever made. Actually, even admitting he had issues was a step further along the path towards recovery than he had thought he would ever go, and that path now stretched ahead of him as a place he no longer feared to tread. It was all a matter of letting go. He had let go of his little brother after all these years, and in doing so, he found he could even let go of the only female who had ever seen under his skin to the pony underneath and not been disgusted at the sight. If he was fired from his job for his experiences, he could get another job. The Royal Guard only had orders to observe suspected changelings, so the low probability of him being thrown into prison for nursing an injured changeling back to health did not bother him at all. There were going to be difficult times ahead, but Beets had proven he was able to handle them by himself. With a little help from his friends. “Why so glum, chum?” asked Nectarine while strolling along beside Beets on his way back to his empty apartment. “Your snugglebug may be gone, but you still have me.” “Joy,” said Beets with a roll his eyes. “I’ve known you for years and all it has gotten me was those used condoms in the trash when I was in San Franciscolt for my work seminar. I should have known better than to let you housesit. Sultry was in my life for about a week, and she totally remodeled my whole apartment.” “With as much green goop as the two of you rolled in, you’re probably going to have to tear out the carpet and start over again,” said Nectarine. “If it ‘bugs’ you that much, I’ll help you ‘lay’ new carpet.” “Thanks.” Beets walked in relative silence for a while, picked up a morning newspaper and a few donuts, and only opened his mouth again when they reached his apartment door. “Look, Nek. Why don’t you go home. I’m going to clean up a little before your cousin gets back here with his warrant. Stars willing, you can drop by tonight and I’ll tell you all about it.” “You cleaned up the apartment after I used it during your trip to San Franciscolt,” pointed out Nectarine. “I left it a horrible mess.” “But of course it’s not your fault two of your ex’s dropped by while you were entertaining,” continued Beets. “I shouldn’t have tried for a threesome,” said Nectarine with a sigh. “No more. Two is my limit. I’m older and wiser now.” “It was less than six months ago,” pointed out Beets. “And just last month you were telling me about the triplets.” “Two,” insisted Nectarine when they stopped outside the apartment door. “No more triplets. Unless they’re really hot. Or changelings.” Beets chuckled before getting out his key. “I don’t think you have to worry about that, Nek. The only changelings in town are far away by now.” He unlocked the door and let it swing open into the well-lit, but not as empty as he expected apartment. In his living room was a kerchief-wearing ‘pegasus’ shoving a shampooer across a large green stain on Beet Salad’s carpet, and seeming somewhat frazzled when she looked up in their direction. “Hi, honey,” said Sultry Breeze with a weak grin. “You’re home early.”