Fancy Pants wasn’t the first uptight and prissy appearing stallion that Spike had found himself unwillingly determined to dislike upon meeting him. With every pony related to the fashion industry came a certain set of rules that Spike had made long ago that he didn’t need to keep track of by quill and ink, because he would always be reminded upon meeting somepony new. They were usually well dressed, hated the idea of dirt, and far too self-centered and airheaded to take seriously without extensive mocking.
What was different about Fancy Pants, and therefore annoying in a different sort of way, was the fact that Spike was finding it difficult to to really nail this pony to the third rule. Even now, sitting there with the morning sunlight reflecting off his monocle and a cup of coffee in the grasp of his magic touched to his lips he didn’t seem what Spike had first assumed him to be as prissy.
It had been a long week where he had done what Twilight had ever so irritatingly nicknamed his ‘blind crushing help’ with Rarity. He had claimed time and time again that it was normal to help a good friend out for hours on end with no payment and effort that even a paid employee would complain at. He had gone through many pins jabbed into his scaly sides and arms carrying dozens of pounds of weight in fabric for years for Rarity to the point where even he seemed to have fallen into routine. He didn’t mind most days when he was called upon, though. Unless of course it was a day, or worst case scenario several weeks, where a pony from Canterlot was visiting to help Rarity with a certain project.
The third rule hadn’t applied once. Spike had seen Fancy Pants on the morning of his arrival exactly one week prior and had not only expected to hate him on the spot, but intended on it. But something was different about Fancy Pants. Even now he wasn’t overly dressed and ever so self conscious as many of the ponies he had been referring to as ‘Whiny Fabric Spewers’ had been. He was wearing an expensive looking morning robe in the color of maroon that was wrinkled and messy, slipping down one half of his shoulder. His mane was a bit messy and unkempt, tied back as Spike had studied him doing when he was in the middle of something that required his focus. He felt real, not plastic like some of the ponies who had rolled through here. The ponies that mocked Rarity’s “tiny” shop and touched the furniture like it was cheap imitation of what Spike could only assume must be solid gold by their reactions.
“Shoot,” Fancy Pants mumbled. His breath pushed back at the steam arising from his coffee until it dissipated in the air.
“What?” Spike asked suddenly. His voice was quick and cracked a bit when he broke in a way that instantly made him blush. He hadn’t realized it until now, but he was sitting… strange. He was on the stage where Rarity normally put finishing touches on her dresses, his back straight, not hunched like usual, and his hands pressed together with his fingers intertwined. He hadn’t meant to stare at Fancy Pants, but he found himself doing so regardless.
“Nothing,” Fancy Pants sighed in a matter that was irritated, but more so directed at himself than anything. He waved a quill about with him magic that up until this moment Spike had been looking past. It was fluffy and red, but the end was dry looking. “This ink seems to have run dry. I say, does Rarity mind parting with another jar?”
“Uh…” Spike got off the stage slowly. He wasn’t actually sure if Rarity would mind Fancy Pants using her personal ink for what seemed like it had been a personal letter by the way the stallion had kept smirking and chuckling throughout it. Spike nodded regardless, and went to the other room quickly to search through one of Rarity’s cabinets before finding a small jar of writing ink. When he returned to the room Fancy Pants was adjusting his monocle and tilting his head away from the sunlight. His eyes were… blue… a blue that was a bit captivating to look at. Spike found himself squeezing at the jar of ink when they met his eyes and he forced himself to look away when he approached the stallion.
Fancy Pants was not in the least bit threatening… and maybe that was why it was so concerning to Spike why he felt like he should feel this way.
“Thank you, darling,” Fancy Pants chuckled and reached out a hoof. When the end of it brushed against Spike’s fingers he felt a bit of Fancy’s fur, and more in particular how soft it was. His leg was thick with muscle, and he held this strong but gentle force when he tugged on Spike’s fingers when the dragon forgot to release it.
“Y-Yeah, no prob, man,” Spike nodded his head and retracted his hand to his chest. His stutter was something that he didn’t expect to come from his lips. He touched his fingers before he squeezed them in his fist.
“Hmmm,” Fancy nodded his head, his thoughts already drifting away from the moment as he used his hooves to pry open the cork of the ink bottle. Spike felt a pang of something in his chest tighten when he noticed without realizing that his upper leg bulged a little with force of muscle when he did this. It made him feel… strange…
Strange was a word he had been feeling a lot lately, especially around Fancy Pants. The stallion was kind in the sort of way that Spike had thought only Rarity possessed in ponies interested in fashion, but in a different way entirely. He called Spike ‘Darling’ more often than his actual name, but it wasn’t in the sort of materialistic, cutesy way that Rarity’s other clients in the high fashion industry had talked to him before. They had always felt moments away from pinching his cheeks if that old and tired cliche would ever die. Fancy talked normally to him, and aside from his accent he didn’t sound fake to Spike.
“When will Miss Rarity be back with the fabrics, if I may ask?” Fancy Pants questioned, his eyes briefly flickering towards Spike and once again Spike could swear they glimmered. He found his chest tightening once more, and without realizing it he grabbed at the end of his tail and squeezed at it.
“A-About thirty minutes,” Spike answered with another stutter that this time made him flinch. He felt annoyed at himself for two reasons, one being his stupid tongue, the other being the fact that he was unsure why he felt so nervous. He felt the thought run through his head again and again that Fancy was just another Canterlot big shot pony, yet still he felt nervous when those eyes met his. “Sorry, she said she’d be right back before you came in… I coulda made you that coffee, y’know.”
“Oh, please, it felt nice to do something routine for once,” Fancy Pants took a sip from Rarity’s pink mug and then wiped at his lips with a napkin. “Besides, it gave me time to think over this letter. It’s been quite a trial trying to word it, if I must say.”
Again with that non directed irritation that Spike actually found refreshing for a change. Most Canterlot ponies were far too uptight about their annoyance and were quick to lash it out on anypony who happened to be close by. Usually that was Spike since they would never snap at Rarity.
“Who are you writing too?” Spike found himself asking. He tugged at one of his fingers when he realized he was staring at the V shape that was down Fancy Pants’ robe and in truth, the way a few tufts of fur on his chest stuck out and looked softer than any coat Spike had ever seen. It was almost a reminder of how he had looked at… Rarity…
“Ngnn…” Spike made an involuntary sound when that thought crossed his head. He tried to cover it up with a cough when Fancy looked to him.
“Just my boyfriend,” Fancy mumbled in a way that was half focused on the conversation half focused on what he was writing. The quill scribbled for a few seconds and a small frown crossed his lips. “I’m explaining to him that I might be a day or two late… He’s going to let me have an earful about if it turns out to be the case.”
“Boyfriend?” Spike asked. It… wasn’t intended to sound so dumbfounded.
“Yeeeeesssss…” Fancy’s eyes drew from the page slowly and then onto Spike like heavy weights that pierced his scales. He drew out the word as if he were suddenly walking on thin ice and was watching his words carefully. Fancy had this way of removing most emotion from his eyes yet somehow still seeming as though he were reading a pony. He had done it multiple times to Rarity whenever she questioned his decisions on the dresses, the closest he had come to applying to Spike’s never broken third rule. “Please don’t tell me Ponyville happens to be one of those dreadful towns?”
“N-No, no!” Spike shook his head quickly. “I just… I was just wondering, y’know?”
He tried to laugh it off, but Fancy Pants raised his brow in suspicion.
“Would you like to sit down?” Fancy Pants asked, and nodded his head to the opposite side of the small table. It was no less than four feet across, and Spike found himself nodding after but a moment of hesitation and sliding into the chair. Fancy Pants sipped at the coffee again and kept his eyes locked on Spike. Spike stared down at the letter, but was unable to make out the writing both through it being upside down and the fact that it was written in such a stylized, loopy kind of way that he might have had trouble reading it rightside up.
“Are you positive that doesn’t bother you?” Fancy asked. There was this sort of tired sigh at the end of his tone, as if he had repeated this over a hundred times. “I assure you that I’ve found you very cute up until this point, and I’d hate for my opinion to change so suddenly.”
“Cute?” Spike decided to focus on that part in particular. Suddenly that feeling he had been suppressing reemerged stronger than before. Something that felt like guilt, as if he were doing something wrong. He could remember a similar feeling but not as conflicting when he was young and accidently burned a hole in the floor and tried to cover it with a rug. Back then he knew why he felt so stricken. But the way Fancy had called him cute made him… happy?
“Don’t let it go to your head, Darling,” Fancy Pants chuckled enough for his expression to soften. When he smiled his teeth were straight and white. Spike felt the feeling come in waves when it was directed towards him. “The pretty ones do and they become awfully bland once they’re aware… But yes, if you must know I am writing to my boyfriend.”
“Oh,” Spike felt weird for being able to say nothing else. “I didn’t… mean to make you think that… What’s he like?”
Fancy Pants chuckled again. And again, Spike felt weird. Like clockwork.
“He’s a spoiled prince and he lives in a castle and is nearly half my age and beautiful beyond belief. The worst part is when I tell ponies that story nopony seems to quite believe. As if I didn’t have enough to toot my own,” Fancy smiled again almost as if he simply couldn’t hold back his glee. “It’s almost like they don’t believe some middle aged overweight unicorn could score somepony like that without resorting to cash. The nerve.”
He was sarcastic too. Another reason that Spike found it hard to label him as self centered. He at least seemed to have a bit of sense of humor that made him all the more authentic and likeable.
“Oh…” when Spike said it again he wanted to bite his tongue. He was struggling to think of something to say, but his mind was a drawing a blank to the point where he actually felt his cheeks grow a little hot the gaze of Fancy Pants on him felt so intense.
“Despite the fact that Rarity has been a wonderful host and co-worker and you have been a fine enough helper, I do worry that this design just isn’t having much of a breakthrough fast enough,” Fancy Pants sighed and let the quill sit in the ink for a few moments too long. “He’s going to give me an earful about booking my schedule so tight and not giving enough breathing room with this endeavor. Honestly when he gets hot headed it’s like talking to my father again…”
Fancy Pants blinked, his expression lightened, and he looked to Spike with a bit of a shy smile.
“Apologies, I’m just complaining aloud.” He chuckled, but with a small tint of pink on his cheeks. “If I was a bit less sane I’d ask to go to Princess Twilight’s place and hide from him when he reads this letter. He has a tendency to chew my ear off.”
“Hehe…” Spike said a bit less enthusiastically than he meant. He could see it in Fancy’s eyes that he hadn’t sounded suitably enthused enough to be making that well of an impression. Something intermingled with the feeling of strange guilt that felt almost like fear that he was perhaps coming off poorly.
“I don’t really know a lot about that fancy schmancy Canterlot stuff. Rarity talks about it sometimes but I don’t listen too much,” Spike admitted and scratched at his cheek with his claw when he shrugged. “I know this is apparently some kind of big deal, you coming down and all. Rarity’s been babbling for days before you came up about how working with you will skyrocket her right next to designing the Princess’ dress or something.”
“Well, don’t let me break her heart but I doubt she’ll go that far that quickly,” Fancy Pants rolled his eyes and smiled. “But yes, big deal might be a good word for both of us. She’s a bit of an up and comer in this line of work, not many ponies as high as I do like to take the risk of working with the low ones in case they hit something lucky and produce dud after dud. Photo Finish almost ruined her career once when photographing a particularly horrid of orange in a spring setting because it was the creator's ‘dream’ or something insane.”
“What’s wrong with orange in spring?” Spike raised his eyebrow and Fancy Pants rolled his eyes. Once again coming close to his third rule.
“Honestly I forget that not everypony is as obsessed with color schemes as I am,” Fancy Pants laughed. Spike felt his cheeks grow warm, and his chest clench once more at that laugh. It sounded so warm and… comforting. He didn’t feel like he was being teased at all. “I’m sorry, I’m dreadfully boring to you. I’d bet you’d rather talk about one of your comics or something along those lines, correct?”
“What?” Spike tried to laugh, and once again straightened out his back. “No way, that stuff is way more immature than me.”
“Didn’t I see you reading one the first few days you helped out?” Fancy Pants asked. There was a bit of confusion in his tone.
“N-No way,” Spike tried to make a ‘psh’ sound but it sounded more like he was forcing a sort of whinny. He really really didn’t want to go into the cold hard fact that he had stopped bringing the comic for the same reason why he hid it when Rarity came into the room. He didn’t want Fancy to think less of him, as strange as it seemed. He wanted to seem more level headed and not interested in bright flashy outfits and poorly cliched and cheesy lines of dialogue. Why he wanted this he… didn’t know...
“Alright then.” Fancy Pants sounded unconvinced. But he chuckled again regardless.
Spike looked down to the letter again. He touched his knees under the table and squeezed at his flesh. There was a lump in his throat that was particularly difficult to swallow when he caught himself once more staring at Fancy Pants’ chest, and more importantly his thick neck that seemed strong, like the rest of him. He wasn’t slender and graceful like Rarity, more large and forceful in a way that he had adapted to carry himself just as well if not better.
He felt that guilt hit him again. It hit him the hardest when he thought about the fact that he had been looking more at Fancy Pants than Rarity these past few days while they worked. He had never just flat out ignored Rarity for as long as he had recently, and that in turn made him frown and touch his chest near the beating of his heart.
“Hey uh… Fancy Pants?” Spike asked, and looked up to the unicorn who was currently scribbling near the end of the page of his letter. “Did you think I was gonna be weird about you having a boyfriend?”
“Hmm?” Fancy shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe a little. You get used to that kind of assumption when it’s as well known as me. Some ponies have an awfully loud mouth.”
“Oh…” Spike found his words trailing off. For some reason those words unsettled in him. “Do they… make fun of you a lot? Like teasing and stuff when you first started dating him?”
“Oh, they do worse than that sometimes,” Fancy Pants sighed loudly and sipped at the last of his coffee. “I’ve learned to have thick skin… though I suppose somepony who hasn’t dealt with criticism about something like I have with dresses might not. I know my boyfriend certainly isn’t at times.”
“Mmm,” Spike made the grunting sound as he nodded his head. He linked his hands together under the table and interlocked his fingers before squeezing them. “But I mean… You’ve never felt into a girl? Like wanting to kiss one or anything, right?”
“I never said that.” Fancy Pants looked up from his letter. “I’ve dated mares, yes, and stallions too. Is there a point to all of this?”
“S-Sorry,” Spike stuttered the apology and stared down below the table. He heard Fancy sigh, and squeezed his eyes shut. He felt like he had said something not only wrong, but suddenly the idea of Rarity hearing about it and her getting the wrong idea… whatever idea he was afraid of her getting in the first place, that is.
“No, I am,” Fancy sighed in a tired sort of way. “Forgive me, I’ve grown into a bitter old man about the whole thing. I’m so used to interviewers forgetting I actually make dresses whenever I date a stallion…”
“Do the reporters…” Spike hesitated briefly, bit at his inner cheek, and waited until Fancy Pants nodded before continuing. He smiled again, and Spike felt guilty for taking pleasure in the warmth it gave off. “I mean… They make it into a big deal, right? Rarity gets a lot of gossip magazines from Canterlot. I tried reading one once but it was way too girly for me to get into.”
“A big deal is an understatement,” Fancy Pants grumbled. “I swear it’s like my own personality is sucked up and erased somet-”
Fancy Pants suddenly bit at his lower lip, and his expression darkened for just a moment before softening.
“Apologies, I’m running my mouth again. I’m almost as bitter as this coffee today.”
“No, it’s fine,” Spike nodded his head and tried to smile. It hurt a little bit, mostly because it was forced. “I like hearing you talk. Really, I do.”
Spike thought to himself ‘Well that doesn’t sound clingy and desperate at all’. It was like plunging a knife into his own chest when he had to resist the urge to call himself stupid.
“Well you and my boyfriend seem to be the only ones. I suppose you’ll tell me I’m handsome too like he does,” Fancy Pants laughed. “Which reminds me, do look at my face or something when I write out this next part. I believe I’m on good terms with Rarity and what I’m about to write to him might put me on bad terms if you get a peak and repeat any of it.”
Spike thought he was joking, but then his expression turned serious. He nodded to assure he wouldn’t look at the letter and he smiled again. The smile Spike liked.
The thought hadn’t actually crossed his mind until Fancy had blatantly said it, but something that had been stirring in his thoughts came to surface once Fancy had given it a term. Fancy really was handsome. Even fresh out of bed and with ruffled hair and frumpy fur he still made Spike’s chest feel weird to look at. He remembered a term that Twilight had once said was overused and didn’t make quite much sense in romance novels.
Heartthrob.
He felt his face flush when the term popped into his head. He really didn’t want to apply Fancy Pants to that word with just how confused his thought process had been for the past several days, yet it was already done. And now he couldn’t stop thinking of the resemblance Fancy Pants had to a character on a novel cover Rarity once desperately took from him when he found it on her bed looked. He was sitting in a robe much similar to Fancy’s, but more blatantly open to expose his chest. That had made him feel weird too, but at the time he had written it off as second hand embarrassment because of just how Flustered Rarity had become.
He tried to stop thinking about it, couldn’t, and then felt like he was once more doing something wrong.
“Something wrong?” Fancy questioned.
“I-I think you’re handsome,” Spike blurted out. It was the only thing to come to his mind. He sat stunned in what he had just said and then made a long drawn out, “Mmmmm…” noise that slipped out between his closed lips.
“Why thank you,” Fancy Pants laughed. “Well now I can rub it in his face that another po- er… Dragon thinks so as well.”
“Sure!” Spike said a bit too loud and a bit too fast to sound natural. Fancy pushed back his mane and revealed more of his well structured face. The blocky nature of his structure was different from how the mares he normally surrounded himself with. It was a lot stronger looking.
Spike realized he was staring into Fancy’s eyes again. They really were distracting.
“Um…” Spike looked away and out the window. The morning sun was rising fast to a quickly nearing noon. He swallowed a lump in his throat and felt his fingers drum roll against the surface of the table. He was beginning to not only feel uncomfortable in the silence, but the fact that Fancy’s eyes were boring into him like ice. “You’re… different.”
“Different?” Fancy Pants raised his eyebrow.
“You just… are…” Spike bit the inside of his cheek so his words sounded a bit muffled. “You’re a lot nicer than the ponies Rarity works with. They push me around a lot and get real nasty when stuff doesn’t go their way. But you helped her a lot, and me too. Plus you don’t just wanna decorate me like I’m some doll or something like some of them want to do.”
“Well I never said that,” Fancy smirked, as if it were obvious this were a joke. “Though I’m sorry if Canterlot’s top percent has made you feel that way. I admit we’re a bit… privileged… to put it lightly.”
Spike smiled back, and then frowned. His emotions were conflicting, to say the least.
“I mean,” Spike chuckled and felt his face grow warm. He was becoming nervous, and it was both physically obvious and verbally by the way he was suddenly struggling not to stutter. “It’s just weird, is all. You’re really handsome but you’re not a jerk. And I don’t feel weird talking to you like all those prissy stallions and mares. You even hold the door open for me when I’m carrying a lot of stuff, not even Rarity does that sometimes.”
Spike scratched at his cheek with the end of his claw. His chest was tight, and his heart was beginning to pound.
“And you’re handsome…” Spike added.
“You already said that, Darling,” Fancy Pants answered in a sudden tonal shift. Something about him went from lighthearted to what he could only assume was close to concerned. Suddenly the conversation shifted to a place that Spike really really did not want it to shift. “Three times, actually… Is something the matter?”
Spike shook his head.
“I just wanted to let you know… I dunno. Making conversation, I guess.” Spike grabbed his arm by the shoulder and squeezed it until his claws dug against his scales. “We can talk about something else if it’s weird.”
“This is probably prying past what I deserve to do,” Fancy Pants mumbled in a way that almost sounded like he was talking to himself. “But I must ask… there isn’t a reason you were asking so much about me and my boyfriend, was there? Past just light conversation, I mean.”
“I don’t… know…” Spike found himself pausing more often than not and his heart was beginning to beat faster. He felt himself sweat as though he were under a burning spotlight and wished more than anything that he could reverse time.
“Nothing at all?” Fancy pried more. Spike was beginning to think he was less of a ‘Heartthrob by the second. Though the fact that that word crossed his mind at all made him dig his claws deeper into his shoulder.
“I…” Spike couldn’t find his voice. He opened his mouth a few times but nothing came out.
“Oh dear,” Fancy Pants said in a tone that Spike absolutely despised . It was the kind of tone that sounded like he was getting involved in something that he didn’t quite want to pry into. “I didn’t say anything to give you the wrong idea about liking stallions, did I?”
“What?” Spike snapped, a little louder and more confident than before. But it broke when he spoke again and his voice cracked. “What are you t-talking about?”
“I just mean, if… If I’m not too far off mark here, and believe me I’ve made bigger mistakes in the past,” Fancy Pans bit at his lower lip and then touched his temple to rub at it slowly in circles.
“Oh dear,” Fancy repeated.
“I don’t wanna talk about this,” Spike crossed his arms and stared directly away from Fancy Pants.
“Alright, I’m just saying,” Fancy Pants leaned forward a bit so Spike had to look away even further to get the stallion entirely out of his sight. He pretended he was oh so interested in one of the dressed put on display, and tried very hard to believe it. Anything to pretend like he didn’t get wrapped into this awkward conversation. “You should really be having this conversation with Princess Twilight or so-”
“No!” Spike suddenly yelled. Somehow he blindly hit his fist down against the table and felt his eyes widened fearfully.
“D-Don’t tell her!” He yelled with more force than he probably should have. The mere thought of this happening sparked unknown fear that he didn’t even know he held. “D-Don’t tell her or Rarity, please! T-They don’t need to know, it doesn’t have to… they don’t! N-Nothing’s wrong, you have the wrong idea.”
“Okay…” Fancy Pants held out both of his hooves until Spike managed to calm his both his panic and breathing down to a gentle dig of his claws into his knees. “I just… We don’t have to talk about it.”
“I don’t want them to… Think of me differently…” Spike mumbled, and closed his eyes. “It’s just weird because you’re so nice… that could be it, right?”
“Maybe,” Fancy Pants blindly agreed with Spike’s half finished thought and nodded his head. There was concern in his eyes that bothered Spike beyond belief. There was a long silence where Spike bit his tongue and found himself repeating the word ‘stupid’ again and again in his mind.
“Could you get me more coffee while I change?” Fancy Pants asked. He held out his mug. “I’ll be just a minute.”
Spike wasn’t sure if this was to distract him or change the subject, but either way he took the mug without thinking and nodded his head. He got down from the chair quickly and to the place in the kitchen where he didn’t have to look at Fancy Pants stand up and walk to the next room. When he poured the coffee he felt his heart beat, and fast. He stood at the counter with a mug in both of his hands for a long time staring at his own reflection in the mug, trying to think of a way to worm out of the situation. Maybe if he hadn’t reacted so violently he could try to play it off as some kind of a joke.
A few minutes passed, and then he heard hoofsteps again. He turned his head to look over his shoulder and saw Fancy Pants in a dress shirt and a blue bow-tie around his neck that he was in the process of tying up with his magic when their eyes met. Maybe Spike would have managed to calm down if his first thought wasn’t just how handsome the unicorn appeared to be.
Spike approached Fancy Pants gingerly, and when Fancy took the mug of coffee with his magical grasp he was left to stare down at his feet and cross his arms. His mouth twisted uncomfortably while the two stood in silence. Fancy sipped at his coffee, and then took a long winded sigh.
“Please don’t tell Rarity…” He asked again. He closed his eyes, wishing more than anything he could trust Fancy Pants to do just this. “She’ll tell Twilight and then… and then…”
“And then what?” Fancy Pants asked. He seemed genuinely curious. He extended his hoof and placed it on Spike’s shoulder. Spike hated how gentle it felt. How it made him feel the slightest bit comforted when he wanted to feel disgusted.
“They’ll just tease me for a while,” Spike grumbled and shrugged. “They’ll freak out, too. I dunno… They’ll think I’m girly and weird and start treating me different…”
“That’s not what being attracted to stallions means, Darling,” Fancy Pants tried to assure, and then frowned at Spike when the dragon shrugged again. “You don’t change what you like, you’re still yours-”
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Spike mumbled and hugged himself tightly.
He heard a sigh that almost made him cringe. Fancy Pants sipped at his coffee again and when Spike dared to look up his smile was there, and warm. His eyes seemed silently reassuring in a way that Spike wanted to dislike.
“Alright,” Fancy said, a hint of regret in his tone. “But just so you know, I believe you would have been a hit with the stallions as well as mares when you get older, as cute you are.”
Fancy Pants leaned his head down, and very lightly and briefly pressed his lips to Spike’s cheek. Spike jumped a bit, felt his eyes widen, and in the two seconds between Fancy pulling his face away and Spike slapping the spot he felt it grow very flushed and warm. His heart started beating fast, and words blurred all together in his head. He felt guilty and happy and confused all at once.
And then the feelings were interrupted. The back door to Carsoul Boutique flew open just as a purple-maned Unicorn wearing big dazzling pink sunglasses entered with three bags floating around her with the glow of her horn. Spike jumped, and Fancy Pants pat his shoulder as he went by.
“Why good morning, Miss Rarity!” Fancy Pants said to the mare.
“Oh, Fancy Pants,” Rarity cooed and kissed the stallion’s cheek politely. Not how Fancy had just kissed him, but more adult and… well, acceptable. “You would not BELIEVE the trouble I had to go through to find this specific pattern. It felt like a hundred years trying to see it. Now which one do you think would work?”
Spike crossed his arms and wandered away, slowly at that. He stayed in the room and looked to the two, just stayed in the corner. They talked for a bit and laughed as if what had just happened didn’t just make Spike feel like his chest was about to explode. He stared at Fancy Pants, and felt the word handsome cross his mind once more. He was able to control whatever he was feeling so easily. Spike envied him.
“Oh, Spikey!” Rarity called out and locked her eyes onto Spike. “Can you do me a favor and fetch me so-”
“Eeer, Rarity,” Fancy Pants raised his hoof just as Spike was standing up straight. “Apologies, but right before you walked in I asked Spike to deliver my letter so we could get to work as soon as you got back. Do you mind terribly?”
Spike bit into the inside of his cheek when he saw Fancy Pants raise the letter from the table to before him, and in the blink of an eye a poof occurred and it was nearly wrapped into an envelope that shined bright red.
“Of course not,” Rarity giggled and waved for Spike to come close. When he did so he wondered if he looked off, and if Rarity could tell. She seemed a bit too invested in the fabrics she had bought, looking at each of them one by one and mumbling something under her breath such as, “No no, that won’t do. What was I thinking?”
Spike took the letter, but Fancy held the other half just a moment until their eyes met. He was smiling, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Try to hurry. My boyfriend ought to know what I have to tell him quickly, understand?”
Something behind those words made Spike feel uncomfortable. He knew what Fancy was saying, but it made his chest sieze and his stomach twist to think about it. He nodded dumbly and looked away from those eyes before he was overridden with guilt. He wanted out, and fast. Just when he was nearing the door he heard Rarity swoon over her choices and Fancy Pants half-heartedly agree with her. He looked behind him once, and their eyes met.
Fancy blinked once, and then looked away. Spike could not read his emotions.
When Spike closed the door behind him, he stopped. His toes dug into the grass directly outside of Rarity’s door when he gripped the letter with both hands. His breathing was getting faster without his control, and his body wasn’t agreeing with him when he begged it to calm down.
He wanted to move, but felt stuck. He took a deep breath, but it was cut short by the sudden fear that flickered inside of him.
“Please don’t tell,” He whispered the beg to nopony in particular and closed his eyes, hugging the letter to his chest. He felt his eyes sting under his lids as the panic began to set in. “Please don’t tell please don’t tell.”