To Accept Poison

by TheMessenger

Chapter 4

As a rogue beam of sunlight slipped through the binds and crept over her face, Rarity let out a tired groan. She tried to ignore the annoying buzz in her head and waved her hoof in a vain attempt to brush the sun's gift off. Her eyes squeezed shut as she mentally grappled for the fleeting state of sleep, to return to complete, blissful unconsciousness, while she physically grabbed for her covers to escape to the shelter of their soft touch. Her hooves only taking in cool air, Rarity shifted herself further into the mattress, hoping to find warmth nearer the center. Before she go further, her body bumped into something hard.

With her eyes still stubbornly closed, Rarity reached out and blindly felt away at the mysterious object. Her prods suggested it was solid in some areas, but in other areas she found softness. She ran her hooves along the length of the object and discovered an odd smoothness. The shape was difficult to describe, with no discernible edges, corners, or ends. Any serious attempts to speculate on the object's nature were banished by that obnoxious buzzing. Rarity reached further, grabbing for more clues.

"That tickles," came a muffled mumble in response.

Rarity's eyes shot open, and she flung herself upright. The dull buzz immediately became pain, drilling mercilessly deep into her skull as she hissed. Her hooves grabbed hold of her head, keeping it still as the room spun. Her stomach churned, and Rarity could feel its contents rise to her throat. As a shade of green painted across her features, she forced the bile back down.

At last, the room stopped moving. The pain was slowly became manageable, though still distractingly unpleasant. Rarity opened her eyes again, but this time slowly, gradually. The blurriness faded, and the familiar sights of her bedroom curtains have her a small sense of comfort. In the corner slept Opal, her cat. She was home, in the safety of her own bed, a discovery that put to rest more of her worries than she cared to admit.

Rarity frowned. She couldn't even explain why she felt so worried, thanks to the blasted headache. Well, the headache was certainly a cause for concern, she supposed, as well as the nausea. What could have possibly happened the previous night that would leave her in such a state?

She remembered coming home, yes that much was clear, and, and she had a guest. Yes, a guest, and there were refreshments and gifts from the Crystal Empire. A visitor from the Crystal Empire? No, that wasn't right. Gifts were from her family, souvenirs from their trip, some rare Crystal Empire crystal berry late harvest...wine.

Oh.

But hadn't there only been a couple of bottles? That couldn't have been enough to leave her body and memory so broken. Try as she might, Rarity just couldn't recall anything else. Releasing the breath she had been holding, Rarity lowered herself back on the pillow. Everything would be clearer once her head stopped throbbing, and if she just closed her eyes, just for a few minutes, she might find relief, an acceptable consolation prize if she couldn't find answers. She turned over to reach for the covers.

She found the covers in a tangled heap. At the very bottom of the heap was a certain purple dragon. Spike, her guest was Spike, Rarity remembered. More details from last night slowly emerged, like the telling of his adventure with Opal, the letters from her family, the wine, her embarrassing admission about her love life, and, and...

And here he was, sleeping in her bed. With her. After a night of wine and mystery. The most obscene scenario was also the most obvious and was the first conclusion Rarity came to. Her temperature soared as her features began to glow brightly red. Attempts to think of more decent reasons to why a male slept in the same bed as her after a night of apparent hard drinking failed to calm her as she grew hotter and hotter. Panic overcame the last defenses rational thinking had set up at last, and she screamed.

Both Spike and Opal jumped up. "What the--" Both hissed, the cat in annoyance, the dragon in evident pain. As Opal crawled out of her own bedding and exited the room after shooting a look of disdain, Spike clutched his head and moaned.

"Ow, ow, just, ow," he said, his eyes shut and jaw clenched. "Ow."

Tears. There were tears in Spike's eyes. Rarity reached toward him. Her hoof hovered hesitantly over him before finding a place on the dragon's shoulder. At Rarity's touch, Spike looked up.

"How are you feeling?" It was a stupid question, Rarity knew, but what else could she have had said?

"Me?" Spike lowered her arms. His smile was forced. "Great, just, you know, hard mornings, ha ha."

Rarity raised an eyebrow. "No headaches or soreness?"

"Well, I guess there's a bit of that, ha, nothing too big." He bit his lip. "Rarity?"

"Hmm?"

"I lied. Everything hurts. Am I dying?"

"Are you--"

There was nothing really humorous in those words, but with how stressful the morning' discoveries had been, her own aches and pains, and the complete unexpectedness of Spike's emotionless declaration, laughing seemed to be the only reasonable response, at least in Rarity's perturbed mind. Spike soon joined in nervously, missing whatever joke Rarity found but still eager to share the moment.

The laughter, being too painful for their bodies to sustain, quickly died down. Rarity patted the back of the dragon's claw. "Don't worry, you're not dying."

"Then why does everything hurt?"

Rarity took a moment to think. How would one explain the delicate processes of a hangover? It wasn't a discussion she remembered having with her parents. "It's, a bad reaction to the alcohol," she finally said.

"You mean, like an allergy?" Spike asked, frowning.

"Well, no, nothing like that." Another moment passed in silence. "It's, what's happened is normal, quite normal. You see, when ponies, and dragons I suppose, drink too much wine, more than our bodies can handle, we become sick. It's like how when we have too many sweets at a time, we get tummy aches."

"Oh. But what's with the headache?" Spike rubbed the back of his neck. "And why is everything else sore? I mean, I get eating too much can hurt your stomach, that makes sense, but wine doesn't go to your brain, does it?"

"Yes, well, yes, it's because, well--" The unicorn sighed. "Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"Coffee?" Spike repeated.

"Yes, coffee, black. Not exactly the most pleasant beverage, but it is a common remedy." Rarity slowly pulled herself to the edge of the bed. "I could use a cup myself, along with a cold shower, followed by a warm one."

"You're not feeling well either?" Spike pushed aside the covers and forced himself up. "Here, I can--"

Gently but firmly, Rarity forced Spike back down. "It's quite alright. Now this doesn't leave the room, but you should know this isn't my first morning after a night of too many hard drinks. As unpleasant as I feel, I must imagine it must be much worse for an inexperienced drinker such as yourself. I'll prepare the coffee, you try to rest while you can."

"It's not that bad," Spike protested. Both winced at the volume of the words. "Sorry," he whispered, "but there's got to be something I can do to help. I can't just, if you're hurting too, I can't just lie here."

As weak as Spike was at the moment, Rarity must have been weaker, given how much trouble she had trying to hold him down. That, or perhaps it was her body's way of accepting help when her stubborn mind continued to refuse it. Either way, Rarity lacked the energy to fight Spike further. Keeping up with the proper hostess facade was too exhausting at this point, where she even lacked the reserves to worry about her own appearance.

The thought lingered for a few seconds before being replaced by another, more frantic one. Her legs suddenly found strength, and with a wordless gasp, she sprinted out of the room. Bewildered, Spike rose from the bed. Supporting himself along the wall, he tried to followed her, stopping once he came across a closed door. A few moments passed before Spike recognized the door as the one leading to Rarity's bathroom, where he had only been allowed to enter once because of an emergency. Immediately, Spike released the handle and knocked instead.

"Rarity?" he called. "You okay?"

"Don't come in!"

Spike took a step back. "Rarity?"

"Just, I need a minute, please." The rush of faucet water could be heard from the other side of the door. "Oh, why didn't I, just, Spike? Why don't you head down before me? I trust you know how to handle the coffee maker?"

"Er, yeah, I think," the dragon replied. "I just need the--"

"Filters are in the cabinet below the machine." Making a small cup with her hooves, Rarity brought the cool water up to her face. Droplets rolled back into the sink. "There should be a bag of grounded beans above it." As she applied a second wash of water, she heard Spike's retreating footsteps. With a sigh, Rarity looked up at the soaking reflection and cringed. Dust clung to her lopsided lashes. Visible dark smudges of mascara had left horrid rings and ugly dots around her eyes, and the leftover makeup had dried, forming lines resembling wrinkles. Oh, and her mane, dear sweet heavens above, her mane was in so many tangles and knots, calling it a rat's nest would have been a compliment. Rarity set a hoof against her cheek and shivered at its coarseness.

A few wet wipes got rid of the cosmetic stains, and a hard scrub with a hoof full of lotion restored the softness of her skin. Her mane, however, would need more time than she could afford with more tools than the bathroom had. A shower would probably help, and she stared at the bathtub longingly. No, it wouldn't be appropriate, not with Spike waiting for her.

Though after last night, perhaps Spike would like to join--

As if to wash away such thoughts, Rarity splashed herself further. "Keep it together, dear," she whispered to the disheveled mare in the mirror. Her horn lit up, and a comb flew into her mess of her mane. She winced as its teeth dug deep and pulled mercilessly at the knots and tangles. She tried to concentrate on the grooming, but time passed by too slowly, and her thoughts continued to wander until they lingered about the events of last night, specifically around the parts that left a large hole in her memory. Her imagination, which she once flaunted as the source of her success and now cursed, filled the gap with lewd images, images of Spike, the dragon she still remembered being small enough to ride innocently on his guardian's back, that were turning her cheeks pink. Tugs with the comb pulled her back to reality along with her mane.

The tangles were finally vanquished, leaving her mane limp and lifeless. Rarity traded the comb for a brush and returned to work, doing her best to smooth out the rougher patches. Slowly, painfully slowly, her mane approached adequacy. Nothing to be pleased about, it lacking the shine and curls she so loved, but at least she could look in the mirror without feeling ill at the idea of being seen by somepony. Pity there was nothing she could do about the redness in her eyes.

Rarity dried herself with a towel and left the bathroom. The sunlight seemed to dance directly in her eyes each time she passed by a window, as if the day was continually mocking her lousy morning. She walked past the luggage Spike had helped her with last night on the way to the kitchen and stopped to take in the scent of fresh coffee that was already filling the kitchen, in addition to the smell of something she couldn't quite pin down.

"Oh, hey," Spike greeted from the stove. The mysterious scent came from a metal pot sitting in front of him. "Coffee's ready," he said, pointing to the clear pot on the counter filled with bubbling, black liquid. "Oh, and, uh, I figured you might be hungry so I'm making oatmeal. Sorry I didn't ask."

She hadn't even thought of breakfast, but the mention of food reminded her stomach of how empty it was. "It's fine. I didn't know I had any oatmeal mix left."

"It's just some dried oats and cereal I found, with some boiled water, nothing that fancy. Hope you don't mind." Spike turned off the stove and began to spoon out oatmeal into bowls. Rarity, meanwhile, walked over to the coffee maker and poured out the hot coffee into a pair of ceramic mugs. As she turned to the kitchen table, her leg bumped against a large paper bag tucked into the corner. The chime of a glass bell echoed through the room. Curious, Rarity bent down and opened the bag. Instead of a bell made of glass, she found bottles, glass wine bottles, far more than two.

"Spike, what's this?" she asked, gesturing to the bag.

Spike rubbed the back of his head. "The kitchen was kind of in a mess. There were a lot of those empty bottles on the ground."

Rarity began to shift through the bottles, glancing over the labels. White wines designed to complement meals, red wines for socials, cheap locals, expensive Canterlot ones, and of course Crystal Empire crystal berry late harvest, all dry. We drank all this? In one night? Her head started to spin again. Slowly, Rarity made her way to the table. She placed down the cups of coffee, then slumped down in her seat. Her eyes shut as she massaged her temples to keep her growing headache manageable.

Spike set a bowl in front of her before placing down his own and taking the seat across. Rarity opened her eyes just in time to watch Spike grimace at his first sip of coffee. "And this will really help?" he asked.

Rarity lifted her own cup and gently blew on the liquid inside, creating little waves. "Trust me, Spike, the more bitter the better." She struggled not to make her own face of discomfort as the hot acrid drink burned her tongue and throat. She took a more careful sip and sighed. Already she was beginning to think more clearly. It wasn't much, but at least now it was easier to concentrate on things other than the pain in her head, like how hungry she was. She pulled her bowl closer and began breakfast with a small spoonful of oatmeal. She quickly dug the spoon in for a second spoonful, then a third immediately following. Hunger gave the meal flavor, and the last time she had eaten anything was, was it the small lunch at the café in Canterlot? Or had there been a small snack on the train to Ponyville? She couldn't remember if she had anything to eat after returning home.

Of course, there was much Rarity couldn't recall from last night.

She set her spoon down and glanced up at the dragon on the other side of the table. Spike had been alternating between bites of oatmeal and sips of coffee, and he was certainly looking more awake and alert already. He caught Rarity's stare with his spoon part way in his mouth. He swallowed, carefully placed the spoon to the side, and began to wipe his face with a nearby towel. "Did I get it?"

"Hmm?" Rarity shook her head. "Sorry, what was that?" She took a long draft of coffee.

"Oh, I just thought, you were staring so I thought I had something on my face or something." Spike tossed the towel onto the counter. "So what's up?"

"It's, well, I was just thinking. It's about, you know last night." Rarity's hooves began to shake, and she quickly put her cup back on the safe and steady table surface. "Last night, it's clear that you, you know, you stayed the night and, and, and you didn't tell Twilight," she finished weakly. Spike began to pale. "Yes, Twilight, she--"

Spike was already on his feet. "Yeah, geez, I totally forgot." He grabbed the empty cup and bowl and placed them in the sink. "Aw man, I'm in so much trouble."

"Yes, yes, of course--"

"She's probably panicking and, and sorry but I need to get back home before she burst something important."

"Spike!" Rarity grabbed Spike's tail as he turned to leave. Instead of holding him back, however, the limb drag her to the ground. Hearing the fall and Rarity's cry, Spike stopped and hurried back to her side.

He offered a claw. "Sorry, sorry, I didn't notice you were on me."

Rarity took hold of the offered claw and slowly rose. "Yes, well, I understand you're in a hurry," she said as she dusted herself off, "but please, don't tell anypony."

Spike frowned. "Don't tell anypony? Don't tell anypony what?" he asked.

"Well, about last night, the, you know." Rarity rotated her hoof in a circle. "It's just, I know you're older and a lot of ponies treat you as an adult but you're still underaged and sweet Celestia you're still underaged." The unicorn began to sway.

"Whoa!" Spike reached forward to steady her, only for Rarity to plant herself on the kitchen table. "Uh, Rarity?"

"You're underaged, and I still offered you, and we drank so, and then we, in my--" Rarity took a deep breath. "I just think, it would be better if, maybe if, just don't tell--"

A burst of violet light flooded the kitchen, forcing both dragon and unicorn to shield their faces. "Spike!" they heard someone shout, a familiar mare. When they opened their eyes, a purple alicorn with her horn lit and wings spread wide stood before them on the table. "There you are!" the alicorn said. One of Spike's side fins glowed violet, and he yelped as he was suddenly yanked toward her, fin first. "Do you know how worried I was when you didn't come home last time? I spent the last ten hours ripping apart the Everfree Forest after Fluttershy told me what happened yesterday. I have the entire town searching for you right now, and here you are calmly chatting away with Rarity."

The alicorn blinked. She turned to the unicorn. "Oh, hello Rarity. I thought you'd be in Manehattan for a few more days."

"Good morning Twilight," Rarity greeted. "There was a change in plans. I just got home last night, and Spike happened to show up when I needed his assistance with my luggage. I couldn't let him return home so late, so I let him spend the night here, in a spare guest room of course," she quickly added. "I do apologize for not informing you."

Twilight turned to Spike who, after a moment, shrugged. "She offered, and I couldn't say no," he said with a weak smile. "I, er, sorry for not telling you."

"Yes, well, I'm just glad you're safe," Twilight said with a sigh. She released her magically hold on Spike and folded her wings. "I know you're getting older, but, oh, Spike." She placed her hoof on Spike's head.

"Yeah, I know." He tried to duck away. "Sorry, I'll try to, uh, let you know where I'll be all the time?"

"Wise guy. It'd be nice if you just followed a schedule," Twilight said with a smirk as she tapped Spike's forehead. She jumped off the table and turned back to Rarity. "Well, welcome back home. We'll get out of your mane and let you get back to settling in. See you later?"

Rarity nodded. "Yes, later. Good bye Twilight, Spike."

Spike waved as Twilight led him out of the kitchen, out of the halls, and finally out of the boutique. The door was closed loudly behind them, leaving Rarity alone in a now oatmeal and coffee stained room. With a tired exhale, she stirred herself to locate clean towels.

Comments

[DanvilleBengal]

From the context that I'm deduced in this chapter, and compared to how the previous chapter ended...I have to say that Rarity just realized that in her heartbreak at yet another strikeout at romance, she and Spike eventually got shit-faced drunk (well not quite that badly, but they went through a few) and ended up having drunken sex together in Rarity's bedroom, again due to heartbreak.

I reckon the so-called 'smoking gun' that would admit to their unplanned rendezvous (or drunk-and-fuck) would be how Rarity continues to emphasize that Spike's supposed to be underage, or just recently became of age.

At some point they have to approach it...considering that this is considered a Sparity story, I assume Rarity and Spike recover from having sex while drunk and not remembering it to having a decent relationship. But that's just me