• Published 18th May 2017
  • 23,602 Views, 900 Comments

You're Getting Better - 2Merr



Friendship is a give-and-take relationship. Fortunately for you, Pinkie doesn't ask for much, and she has plenty to give. Maybe it's time to start giving back.

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Trains + Rocks = Neat

The walk to the station is blissfully uneventful. Pinkie doesn't say anything on the way; she just softly hums some song you don't recognize. When you step onto the platform, she wriggles around spastically all of a sudden, forcing you to drop her. She lands completely upright, of course, and races ahead to one of the ticket booths, drops a couple bits onto the counter, then zooms around the corner. She didn't even wait to get her ticket.

Shaking your head with a small smile on your face, you walk up to the booth to collect it for her. The stallion behind the glass slides two tickets out before you can even say anything. You pick up both tickets and see they're identical. Confused, you raise an eyebrow at the the ticket horse.

"Your friend paid for both," he explains, scooping the two lone bits from the counter into a drawer.

"Tickets are only one bit apiece? Really?" you ask incredulously.

The stallion sighs and clears his throat loudly. “The Equestrian Rail System is a nonprofit public service,” he recites in monotone. “The money collected is used exclusively for train maintenance as well as rail construction and repairs. With so many of Equestria's citizens relying on our services, we only need to charge a single bit from each passenger in order to cover the expected costs.”

"Huh." That was a completely unnecessary explanation, but you shrug it off; the guy's just doing his job. "Neat."

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool. Hours suck, though.”

You don’t know how to respond to that, so you just take the tickets and look around the platform for your carry-on pony. You spot her standing on top of a random bench. She's striking a heroic pose and holding a large, tattered flag reading, “This land has been claimed in the name of the EmPier.”

You walk over to the newly conquered bench. If Pinkie notices you, she doesn't show it.

"Part of the Empire now, huh? How's that going for ya?”

"No, Empier,” she corrects, glancing back at you briefly before resuming her pose.

"That's what I said."

"Yeah, but you spelled it wrong. And I’m not just a part of it, I’m the leader—the prince,” she brags.

Verbal spelling and gendered titles aside, wouldn’t the leader be called an emperor, not a prince? Although, considering the most powerful title in this land is “Princess,” you suppose it makes sense. As much sense as anything else Pinkie does, anyway. “If you're a prince, then what does that make me?”

She twirls around to face you, tossing the flag off into god-knows-where. "You can be my steed!"

You already are. "No, that's lame. Can't I be something a bit more... I dunno, important?"

“Aww, okay. What about...” She purses her lips cutely in contemplation, her brow furrowing. “Boopsworth the Royal Butler?”

Boopsworth? The fuck kind of name is that? “Okay, I guess that's good enough. How much do I get paid?”

“You get paid with the privilege of booping the royal snoot,” she sniffs, pointing her royal snoot as high up as she can.

Seems fair enough. “Deal.”

You reach out and collect your pay, causing Pinkie to erupt into a giggle fit punctuated by those adorable little snorts. You can't help but smile a bit wider each time you hear one. While she's still recovering from your surprise attack, the train rolls up. The doors slide open, and the passengers on board begin to exit. Once they've mostly cleared out, you start to walk to the nearest car, but you pause when you hear Pinkie's voice.

"Boopsworth!" You turn around to see Pinkie still on the bench, now lying on her back with her legs folded up against her body. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

You rub your chin, pretending to think for a moment. "Mmmnope, don't think so."

"Are you suuure?" she hints, waving her hooves in the air.

"Yeah, pretty sure. I mean, it’s not like I have to carry you around anymore. I’m a butler now,” you smirk.

“I’m demoting you to steed,” she replies without hesitation.

Fuck. Rest in peace, Boopsworth. You will be remembered. "And what if I refuse?"

“Then you’ll have to live the rest of your life knowing you caused your most very bestest best friend in the whole wide world to suffer through the worst hardship imaginable.” She sticks out her lower lip and bats her eyelashes.

"The hardship of walking," you say sarcastically.

“Yes. It hurts to take a single step,” she pouts, stretching her hooves out towards you.

You realize this is a battle you can never win. Resigned to your fate as the Bearer of Pie, you walk back to Pinkie and scoop her up into your arms like a large, furry baby, ignoring the squeaky horse noise that comes out of her mouth. "I'm starting to think you're just lazy," you remark offhandedly.

"You're lazy," she counters. You can't argue with that.

You make your way into the train car, flashing the two tickets between your fingers when a mare asks to see them. Walking down the aisle looking for empty seats, you glance down to see Pinkie with her eyes closed and the goofiest grin on her face.

How dare she enjoy this? You won't stand for it. "You know, this is how we carry infants in my world. Babies. You're a baby now." There, that oughta teach her. See how she likes being treated like a baby.

"You can't baby me, silly. That's my job," she mumbles happily, nuzzling under your chin.

What.

The train suddenly lurches, moving forward along the tracks. You almost trip, making you hug Pinkie closer to your chest so you don't drop her.

Aaaaaand now it's awkward. The nearby ponies that overheard the exchange are now giving you mixed looks—a few of the usual "who/what is that thing" stares, but most of them have a simple "dude, what the fuck" vibe. You don't blame them, honestly. You doubt Pinkie meant it in a weird way, though; she's probably just half-asleep, like she usually is when you touch her.

Seriously, is there any way to phrase that without sounding weird?

As you continue walking to the back of the car, there are much fewer ponies, leaving more seats open. Thankfully, it's the type of train that has every seat facing the front like a school bus. Ponies are much less likely to keep staring at you if they have to turn around while you can see them. You slide into the very last seat on the left side, being careful not to bang your knees. Stupid ponies and their stupid pony-sized trains. Now that you're no longer standing, you consider shifting Pinkie into a different position. Maybe it'll be less awkward that way. Or maybe it'll be more awkward. Shit, should you risk it?

Nah, she looks happy where she is. Besides, she's hidden by the backrest of the next seat, so you could hold her in whatever way you want and no one would see.

...Jesus, what the fuck, brain? Did that one waiter poison your food? Or was it Rarity? You bet it was Rarity. She must have used her mind-reading unicorn powers to see that you didn't like the "shoes" she made, so she wanted to punish you for your inferior taste in fashion. It all makes sense.

A pink object enters your vision and taps you lightly on the nose, making you blink.

Pinkie withdraws her hoof and tilts her head up at you. "Whatcha thinkin' about, Nonny?"

Yeah, you are not telling her what your mind has been doing. "Um, nothing. On a completely unrelated note, has Rarity ever... you know, killed anyone?"

"I dunno, probably," she shrugs. "Why?"

"No reason, I was just, uh..." Having creepy thoughts about your best friend. "Just curious."

"Are you feeling okay, Nonny? Is something wrong?" She looks concerned, but at least she's not freaking out this time.

"Nah, I'm just..." Come on, brain! Do something useful! "...nervous? About trains?"

Fourteen outta ten, literally a genius.

"Aw, that's okay! Pinkie's here to keep you safe!" She rolls up into a sitting position and gives you a spine-crushing hug. You don't feel any safer.

When she doesn't let go on her own, you decide breathing is a little more important than soft, pink ponies. Only a little.

"Pingy. Ehr," you gasp, tapping out against the seat. There's no ref to save you, but it's worth a try.

She immediately lets go, a sheepish smile on her face. "Ehehehe... Sorry," she says, looking down with her ears pressed flat against her skull. Her face is a slightly darker shade of pink than normal.

Catching your breath, you don't respond verbally. You simply nod and place a forgiving hand on her head, running your thumb along one ear.

She gives a genuine smile this time, nuzzling your hand before sliding onto the seat, managing to fit snugly between you and the window. The seat is made for two ponies, but you're almost twice the size of an average pony. Pinkie doesn't seem to mind; she's pressing her face against the window to watch the scenery go by.

Your brain decides to start thinking normal thoughts for once. The conversation with Rarity at lunch brunch floats to the front of your mind. "Hey, Pinkie?"

"Hi, Nonny!" she turns to wave at you, then presses her face back against the glass. There's a foggy spot growing where her mouth is.

"What else is there to do in Canterlot besides shopping?"

"What?!" Pinkie exclaims. She spins around and grabs your shirt below the collar. "You can't be bored already! We haven't even started!"

"What? No, I'm not bored. I was just thinking about something Rarity said," you try to explain, peeling Pinkie's hooves off your shirt. "Well, she didn't actually say it, but she acted really disappointed when I told her we were only going there to buy stuff."

"Oh, psh!" Pinkie waved a woof dismissively. "That's just Rarity being Rarity. She loves all that fancy schmancy stuff, and Canterlot is pretty much the schmanciest place ever! She might be disappointed we're not taking the chance to rub ankles with nobles at a hoof polishing contest, or whatever it is they do."

Rich snobs competing to see who has the shiniest hooves sounds just absurd enough to be normal for this place. "I bet the prize is a nose extension or something," you chuckle. "That way, they have more of it to stick in the air."

You can tell Pinkie is trying her best not to laugh at that, but she's doing a very poor job.

"Pff! T-that's awful, Nonny," she manages to get out between clenched teeth.

"Well, you're laughing, so that makes you just as awful as me," you point out.

"No! I'm not- snrk, I'm not laughing!" she not-laughs.

"Of course not, you're Pinkie Pie, remember?" Yes, finally! It feels so damn good to say that. You've heard Pinkie throw that joke out whenever she could, and you finally found an opportunity to use it against her.

Pinkie gasps in mock horror. Or it might be real horror, you can't quite tell. "Oh no! What if Pinkie Pie is the fake name, and I don't remember my real one? What if my real name is someone super important? What if I'm actually Princess Celestia?!" she shrieks. "I'm not ready to rule a nation!" She collapses against you, pretending to faint. Her face is a bit flushed, probably from her rant.

You poke her cheek once. She twitches, trying not to smile. "Hm. Guess we have to get a new princess now."

"I'm not dead," Pinkie hisses out the side of her mouth. "I'm asleep. I was cursed." The rest of her doesn't move, just that one part of her mouth. She's committed to the act, if nothing else.

"Oh. That sucks. You wanna be buried or burned?"

"Buried, please. I need most of my body in one piece if I want to be resurrected whenever Twilight figures necromancy out."

That's mildly disturbing. You should change the subject.

"So, uh..." You point out the window at the giant wall of mountain racing by. "How 'bout them rocks?"

How about them rocks, indeed. Truly, your mastery of language is unparalleled.

Pinkie's eyes light up like someone who just heard something they enjoy talking about. "I know, right? Fun fact: the surface layer of Mount Canter is almost exclusively made of igneous rock, despite originally being about half and half with metamorphic rock. Over the centuries, the volcano—Mount Canter used to be a volcano, by the way—erupted like a bajillion times, so now all the metamorphic rock is covered! Neat, huh?"

"Neat," you nod. You got about a quarter of that.

"And don't even get me started on the whole Sandstone Incident of 236. That was cuh-razy, even for pre-moon Luna! Don't tell her I said that."

Of course, that got her started on the whole Sandstone Incident of 236. She was right, it was pretty crazy.

The remainder of the train ride consisted of a happy little rock horse nonconsensually educating her glorified boop dispenser on the historical significance of various types of minerals.

Author's Note:

Pinkie pays very close attention to Maud's poetry.

"They're minerals, Nonny!" - Piesenberg

neat