Branching Paths

by TCC56

P I N K

Busy as Sugarcube Corner could be, even it had a closing time. The days were long - starting before dawn prepping bread, muffins and bagels for the morning rush - but they eventually ended. And with that time passed and the sign in the window turned to CLOSED, the Cakes slumped into two nearby chairs with a sigh of relief.

Pinkie Pie did not, because she was already preparing for another task on her list: a party the next day to celebrate Dinky Hooves' graduation. Technically Dinky's mother didn't know about it yet, but what she didn't know she couldn't try to pay for. So the moment she put aside her baking for the day, Pinkie started her baking for the night.

"Pinkie, I--" Mr. Cake frowned as Pinkie practically flew past him carrying a bag of flour into the kitchen. A few moments later she came back out again. "Pink--" For about six seconds, disappearing once more with a load of sprinkles. Then out front once more. "P--" And away again.

Mrs.Cake tried very hard not to laugh at her husband's growing frustration. "Dear. You know how she can get."

And with a wry smile, Mr. Cake shook his head. "Yeah. I do."

So they patiently waited, putting their hooves up to relax for a few minutes as Pinkie Pie did Pinkie Pie things at a Pinkie Pie pace. Until abruptly - but not unpredictably - Pinkie zoomed out of the kitchen and slid into one of the other chairs. "Sorry Mister and Missus Cake! I just had to strike while the oven was hot!"

"...You mean the iron was hot?" Mrs. Cake raised an eyebrow in question.

And Pinkie Pie blinked owlishly. "Why would I use an iron? I'm baking cupcakes."

The couple looked at each other again and laughed, mostly to themselves.

Pinkie laughed too, even though she didn't get it. "You wanted to talk to me? I've got…" A tendril of hair grabbed the timer out of the ether and held it up. "Seventeen minutes, twenty seconds."

"We did. You see, Pinkie…" Mr. Cake's words faded off, though his mouth kept moving for a few seconds more. Then, blushing with embarrassment, he looked to his wife. "After that many false starts I've lost track of how I was going to say this."

Mrs. Cake patted him on the shoulder. "Let me, dear." And she turned to Pinkie. "Are you happy?"

And that question shocked Pinkie Pie to silence. "I… well, yeah, Mrs. Cake." And concern instantly overtook her expression. "Did I do something to make you think I wasn't?"

"No no," clarified the older mare. "It's just that we've been thinking. And talking. You started working for us almost ten years ago. I don't think you've ever asked for anything, either. Just a place to sleep, some spending money and the chance to use the kitchen." She laughed a little. "Last time we tried to give you a raise, you kept saying no until we just started paying it to you anyway."

Leaning forward on the table, Pinkie gleefully grinned. "Ooooh, I get it. Well don't worry! I already got the talk from Pa about having ambition. I pinkie promise that I'm happy!" She quickly mimed the required motions. "Really, it's all here! I get to make all my friends smile, I get to try new things in the kitchen and I get to enjoy every single day! What more could I want?"

Mrs. Cake smirked. "A lanky orange earth pony in a sombrero?"

And Pinkie Pie's cheeks went bright red. "Okay. Maybe one thing."

Leaning to the side, Mrs. Cake patted the lanky orange-ish earth pony she was married to on the thigh. "I completely understand that."

He blushed.

Pinkie looked back and forth between the two for a moment before she got it - and then broke out into wild giggling.

"His hat's not quite as impressive," Mrs. Cake noted, "But he makes up for it in other ways." Her hoof reached up to go over his heart. He put his hoof over hers and gave it a squeeze. The couple's eyes met for a moment as they shared a silent, meaningful smile. Then they broke apart and turned back to business. "But that's a lot of why we wanted to talk to you, Pinkie Pie."

Mr. Cake picked up. "It isn't that we're telling you to move out, but there's going to be a time soon when you will." He raised a hoof to stop her coming objection. "You'll decide you have to."

"A single bedroom and a secret party cave aren't enough to raise foals in," Mrs. Cake pointed out with a knowing wink.

Pinkie got it, her eyes going wide with realization of something she hadn't thought about before - but that was still undeniably true.

"Yes, it's that and has nothing to do with moonlit accordion serenades." Mr. Cake grunted as his wife elbowed him for the comment.

"Our point," Mrs. Cake continued on despite her husband's commentary, "Is that all of our lives are changing. The twins are growing up, too - they're going to be in Cheerilee's classroom this fall. But just because lives change doesn't mean it's for the worse."

Cheerfully, Pinkie bounced through the middle of the conversation. "I know! All kinds of things change all the time and it's usually good! Like birthdays are changes but they're--"

Mrs. Cake put a hoof over Pinkie's mouth. "Dear, I know you have a lot to say but there's only nine minutes before the cupcakes are done and we all know you could go for a lot longer than that without taking a breath."

Unapologetically, Pinkie Pie shrugged.

"We're getting a bit distracted." Mr. Cake took his wife's hoof and pulled it back away. "What we're trying to say, Pinkie, is that after all these years, you might not be blood related but we consider you part of our family. And no matter where you live or work, that isn't going to change."

Lunging across the table, Pinkie embraced the couple before they could say anything else. Both let out a squeak as Pinkie squeezed as hard as she was able. "Awww! I love you both too! You're like parents who aren't my parents because I have them, so maybe more like an aunt and uncle who aren't as grumpy as Aunt Micrite or as boring as Uncle Auger! And that's never ever ever gonna change!"

Mr. Cake let out a strangled croak.

Pinkie looked at him quizzically. "Huh?"

He croaked again.

"...Oh right! Breathing!"

Both the Cakes gasped for air as Pinkie released them from her crushing hug. They took a good minute to breathe regularly again - then Mrs. Cake looked to her husband. "Six minutes, thirty seconds," she noted.

"Twenty-four seconds!" Pinkie corrected without looking at the timer.

"Er, yes." Mr. Cake adjusted his collar. "Like I was saying, Pinkie, you're family to us. And we wanted to do something to show how you're a part of our lives."

Mrs. Cake picked up as he slid a piece of paper across the table. "We've decided to make you an equal owner in Sugarcube Corner. A third for each of us."

Of the great many things Pinkie had been expecting - several of them physically impossible and at least two of them inconsistent with the laws of reality - that had not been one of them. "But.. but Sugarcube Corner is yours."

"Ours," Mr. Cake corrected with a smile.

"But what about--"

Mrs. Cake cut Pinkie off. "If you're thinking about the twins, it's going to be a long time before they're ready to start working, let alone take over for us. And that's if they want to. Carrot and I want them to choose their own paths in life, even if that takes them away from what we find joy in."

"You find joy in it already. And Cup and I agreed - Sugarcube Corner wouldn't be the same if you weren't part of it." Mr. Cake tapped the paper again. "This makes it official. You don't work for us, we work with each other. No matter what else happens, you're part of this business. All you have to do is sign."

The shock had worn off only to be replaced by tears. Joyful ones, but still tears. Pinkie let loose a gut-wracking sob as she got up from her seat and hugged each of the Cakes in turn. She tried to speak - to thank them, to assure them she would live up to their hopes, to express just how much their gesture meant to her - but all that came out was blubbered half-syllables.

They still understood, patiently waiting for Pinkie Pie to get it out of her system.

In time, she did. Though her eyes were still full of tears, Pinkie pulled herself together enough to sign and make it official. And there was still one minute, seven seconds on her cupcakes.

Author's Note:

Yes technically it should be R E D. Just roll with it, okay?