• Published 5th Nov 2018
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Five Crazy Trials to Date Pinkie Pie - B_25



Spike endures five trials to understand what intimacy with a mare is really like.

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III - Don't Touch Me

~ III ~

Don't Touch Me

I managed to have the kitchen to myself in the morning.

Don't know where Twilight went, and to be honest, I didn't care. My head hurt, and the world turned when I wasn't looking. Hung-over. I was hungover, forced to face vomit and nausea for the foreseeable afternoon.

But there was a neat trick I learned to overcome this. A fellow drinker had told me about it and, though it sounded disgusting at the time, I tried it anyway. The way I saw it: there wasn't much I could lose against more hurl.

“First we get the bowl. Top shelf.” I reached up into the cabinet and brought down the bowl, doing my best not to fill it with something other than milk. “Next we get the booze. Bottom self.” Same thing. My claw pulled the tall-boy up by its neck. “Now we get the cereal and have ourselves a breakfast of ex-champions.”

I grabbed the box on the counter and filled the bowl with oats. Twilight was trying to eat healthily; I was trying to eat the opposite. With the bowl filled, I then poured the booze, listening to the crackling sound as I went to take a seat.

“Ah!” I exclaimed, digging a spoon into the bow. “Snap, crackle and burp!”

I'm not exactly sure when I started talking to myself: it just kinda happened one day, alone, in my bedroom, with no one around and nothing for me to do. It was just the way it went for me nowadays—ultimate relaxation veiled in intense boredom.

I thought about that for a moment. My whole life was dedicated to slacking off as much as I could. I wanted to be alone. When I was out and about, either cleaning or listening to someone or saving the world, my mind always drifted to my empty room, where I'd always rather be.

It was my safe place from my work; only, I found I didn't enjoy being in there all so much.

“Stupid thoughts,” I muttered to myself, lifting a heavy spoon into my maw, letting the booze tickle euphoria back onto my tongue. “What good are ya anyways? Always making me feel bad. Ya never help me get anything done in the first place!”

What the heck was I going on about? I sighed, ate another spoonful of oats and booze, and pondered about nothing for the rest of the morning. At some point, I recalled a strange dream I had, one where Pinkie was in my bedroom, watching me as I was delirious, talking about how I wasn't allowed to touch her.

Wait. That was a dream, right?


“That wasn't a dream, silly!”

I cocked my head. “It wasn't?”

“E'nope!” Pinkie cheered from behind the counter. “I stayed up all night watching you sleep! It was quite cute, too.”

“Don't see how watching someone sleep can be cute.” I scratched my neck. “Or even all that entertaining. You must have gotten bored once or twice.”

“Not really!” Pinkie waved a hoof to someone behind me. Turning to look, I saw a pony standing, waiting, glaring at me. I quickly stepped aside and offered a nod. Pinkie kept talking to me while she cashed out the pony. “It was one of the best nights of my life! I watch something that I usually don't get to watch!”

“Someone sleeping?”

“Just sleeping works?”

“It does?”

“It doesn't have to be someone that's sleeping for it to be cool!” Pinkie slapped the side of the register, a small drawer shooting out and stopping an inch from her chest. “I'd watch myself sleep if I could! But it never ends up working out.”

“It doesn't?”

“Trust me, Spikey, I've tried more times than you can believe!” Pinkie scraped up some bits onto her hoof and then held them out, dropping them into the pony's open pouch. She smiled at him; he snickered and left. “One time, I put a mirror next to my bed, y'know, so I could watch myself sleep.”

I blinked. “And then what happened?”

“I don't know! I fell asleep!” Pinkie scrunched up her muzzle, crossing her forelegs onto the counter and slumping onto them. “I was so sad when I woke up that I tried it out again! The trouble was, every time I closed my eyes, I couldn't see my reflection anymore, and when I opened my eyes, my eyes looked at me back from the mirror.”

“I... I guess you're right then?” I stroked my chin. “It's impossible to watch yourself sleep because either you're sleeping or—“

“Or your eyes are closed!”

“Very true.” I dropped the claw from my chin and held it against my hip. “But why do you wanna watch yourself sleep in the first place? Or anyone for that matter?”

“Oh, easy-peaty,” Pinkie Pie said. “It gives me something to do!”

That line struck a chord with me, one that I wasn't aware I had, though it played out nonetheless. I took a moment in the silence to pay closer attention to Pinkie—to actually look at her, I mean.

Her body was clean. The pink fur covering her body had been brushed to perfection— except her mane, which was left best to being puffy and free. Below her muzzle, some fluff puffed out from her chest and, being so cute and... touchable.

I reached a claw out toward it.

“What'cha doing, drakefriend?”

“I, um!” I curled my claw and let it hover over the counter, feeling my heartbeat. “I was, uh, gonna give you a hug... if that's alright?”

“Absolutely not!”

I blinked. “Huh!?”

“You're my drakefriend, and I'm your marefriend. Ya got that!?” Pinkie had almost lifted herself atop the counter, the heat of the sun radiating from her very face. “That means we're together as a couple, and if we're together as a couple, then that means you are not to lay a claw on me, understand!”

My jaw dropped; my brain gave up. “W-What! That's... that's not how that works at all!”

“We're not together for even a day before the first agruement starts, huh!" Pinkie shook her head, making a strange hissing sound through her teeth. “Maybe you're not ready for the first trial after all.”

“Now hold on a second!” I wanted to lift her chin so Pinkie would have no choice but to look at me, but my claw stopped on the way there. It remembered the rule. Her rules. The silly and made up rules. “This isn't an argument, alright?! I don't understand what you're saying is all.”

“How is it hard to understand what I'm saying?”

“Because what you're saying doesn't make a whole lot of sense!” My head dropped, and my lips passed out a sigh. “Look, I'm not claiming to be a master on dating, but from what I've seen from other couples is that they touch each other—a lot.” I shook my head. “I thought the whole reason ponies dated was so they had someone to touch.”

“Is that the reason you're dating me?”

“What? No! Kind of?” I was breathing through my mouth now, trying to repress my heart from exploding. “Listen, I'm dating you because I've never dated before, and I want to learn what it's like.” I gulped, cleaning my eyes. “I've always been around you girls, but never... with one of you, I mean.”

“Well, why didn't you just say so!” I looked up to see Pinkie leaning over the counter, her muzzle inches before mine, her plush pink lips even closer to my own. “You just wanna learn how it feels like to be with a mare?”

“Exactly that! Yes!”

“Then you should know that I'm unlike any other mare!” Pinkie fell back to behind the counter. “And if ya wanna date me, Spikey, then you're going to have to date me my way!”

“Fine, fine!”

“Good boy.” Pinkie scrunched both her lips and eyes. “Now tell me, is there any reason why you want to become experienced in dating? Hmm?”

“No reason! No reason.” I put up my claws in surrender, finally feeling my heart-rate decline. “Just wanna become experienced in it is all. Maybe have some talent to use if, y'know, this doesn't work out... or something.”

“Okie-Dokie-Lokie.” Pinkie fell onto her rump and lifted a hoof to her face. “If that's the case, then I'm willing to help you—but this is my challenge, so you still have to play by my trails.” She rubbed underneath her left eye, yawning...cutely. “And the first trial is this: you are not allowed any part of me, capisce?”

“Capisce, I guess.” This wasn't making a whole lot of sense, but now, that was the trend with Pinkie Pie. My mouth opened to argue my confusion further but stopped when I saw just how tired she was. “Silly question, but did you really stay up all night?”

“Of course I did.” Pinkie shook her head ferociously, trying to shake off her black bags. “Now then, on a scale from one to ten: how busy are you today?”

“Zero,” I replied. “I don't have a life.”

“Perfect!”

I don't think anyone's ever been happy to hear me say that before.

“Mr. and Ms. Cake should be home in aboooooooout an hour. Give or take.” Pinkie shook her head. “But don't take anything, or else they'll be very upset!”

I slowly nodded. “I'll be sure to keep my greed in check.”

“Good!” Pinkie rose to her hooves, standing up, stumbling around. “Now then! When they get home, it's going to be dating time for you and me!” She smiled so wide that her white teeth glinted from the overhead light. “We can go wherever you like, whenever you like, and do whatever you like!”

I pointed at my chest. “I'm in charge of setting the date?”

“Mmhmm!” Pinkie crossed her hooves over the counter again, but this time, leaned heavily into them. “I've already learned everything I could from all my previous dates!” She giggled and coughed at the same time. “Besides, what you want for a date will reveal a whole bunch about you, ya know!”

“Is that so?” I laughed, feeling strangely motivated. “Alright then. I'll do my best to think of something nice for you and me to do.”

“Thatta boy!” Her eyes quickly narrowed on me. “But remember! No matter what, you and I are not to touch each other, okay? No lovey-dovey stuff either!”

“Isn't that the whole point of dating?”

“Quit the challenge then!” Pinkie said. “Find somepony else to date if ya like. I won't hold it against you. Seriously!”

“No no, you're fine—I'd rather date you.” That was a lie. One that she didn't need to know about. All I had to do was date the crazy mare, see if I could learn a thing or two about how mares worked, then use that to make Rarity mine. “No touching or romantic compliments. Don't worry—I've been doing that my whole life.”

Pinkie smiled at that one. “You're can be so funny sometimes.”

“Thanks.” I gave her a smile of my own. “I don't try to be.”

I kept looking at her. Something bugged me. It was her eyes, her perfectly blue eyes always so filled with life—always giving, never taking, even when they reflected the world. I could see myself, my ugly muzzle reflected from her blueness.

I was smiling.

But below those eyes, her black bags dragged almost innocently. I gazed at them for a couple of seconds, and then, looking back up into her eyes, I saw that I was no longer smiling. Closing my own eyes and shaking my head, I exhaled a heavy breath.

“Say, Pinkie?” I caught her attention. “How would you feel about taking a quick nap before we went out?”

“I'd love that, silly,” Pinkie replied. She then gestured a hoof to around the store. “But I can't close the store simply because I want a nap!”

“How about I watch the store for you?”

“Huh?” Pinkie tilted her head quizzically. “How would you do that?”

“C'mon, Pinkie.” I went to lay a claw on her shoulder but quickly stopped myself—this really was going to get on my nerves. “I've got all the skills needed to watch shop for an hour or so. Customer service? I've gotta deal with Twilight every morning. Handling bits? I do my own taxes.”

“I'm not sure...”

“Making food and sweet?” I went on. “Have you ever seen Twilight cook? Do you remember how fat I used to be?”

Used to be?”

“You quit that.”

Pinkie giggled. Her gaze was still alert, glancing around the store like a mother searching for danger while her cub was at her side. She seemed conflicted. Her lips were parted, like they wanted to say yes, but her eyes, those perfect eyes held doubts—doubts about me.

“I'm not so sure about this, Spike.” She came to lock eyes with me. “Do you... do you think you could handle down here all by yourself?”

I shrugged. “Not much to handle, to be honest with you.” I peeked over my shoulder—the store was mostly empty, apart from a couple sitting at a booth, sharing a milkshake with two straws. “You've already got all the sweets out. Do you have anything cooking the kitchen.”

Pinkie shook her head. “No special orders today.”

“That's great!” I exclaimed. “So how about you go and get yourself upstairs? I'll clean down here if it doesn't get too busy.” Looking back at the tables behind me, I could feel the dust on them. Call it a sense given to me by Twilight. “I promise your store is in good claws.”

“You do?”

“I'd shake your hoof,” I replied, “but I'd rather not blow up our relationship.”

Pinkie stared at me for a good long while, no doubt thinking. Thinking about what? I had no clue. I imagined it was the same kind of thinking a mare does before somepony. Questions like: is he trustworthy? Is he nice around others? Does he cover his mouth when he burps?

We didn't get to try that kind of thinking on each other—we just leaped into the relationship without thinking much about it. To be honest, I haven't done much thinking lately, and because of that, it seemed like I was getting more done because of it.

I just had to hope Pinkie was willing to do the same with me because, really, if she gave one thought as to the kind of dragon I really was, she'd call this engagement off and go running—or bouncing—for the hills.

“Alright, Spikey.” Pinkie kept her eyes locked on mine, giving a heavy nod of her head. “You wanna play boss? You wanna play Mr. Free Worker? That's fine with me! In fact, I'm even going to thank you for it!” She inhaled through her mouth, and kept inhaling, and... still kept inhaling until—“THANK YOOOOU!”

The shout pushed me back a step.

“Y-You're...” I shook the daze out from my head, sticking a finger to roll inside my ear. “...w-welcome?”

“You know how everything works, hotshot?”

“An oven, a register, and a cloth?”

She nodded.

“Used 'em my whole life.”

She smiled.

“Good!” Pinkie started to walk backward, keeping her eyes locked on mine. “I'm going to go upstairs now! You got a problem with that?”

“...none at all?”

“How about me trying to watch myself sleep again?”

“You can do that too.”

“Good!”

Pinkie continued to walk backward until her rump touched the door of the kitchen. She pushed it open, still watching me, still walking back, until finally, once the doors squeaked closed, she dashed away.

There wasn't much for me to think or feel, so accepting absurdity, and refusing to think, I walked around the counter, coming to stand where Pinkie had nearly passed out before. I stood there, slightly clueless about my duty. Then, in the span of blink, something clicked.

“Huh,” I murmured. “My first real job.”