My Dinner With Shimmer

by Posh

3. Trenchant Insight

Since starting college, Sunset Shimmer had moved into a new apartment, one which should've been out of her price range, but in which she managed to live comfortably anyway. Wallflower never knew how she managed that – she and her mom could just barely live comfortably on their combined incomes. Perhaps Sunset had a wealthy patron, a posh pony princess with inexhaustible wealth sending her money through a transdimensional portal.

Or perhaps Sunset sold drugs.

Wallflower kind of hoped it was drugs. Somehow less intimidating.

She stood outside Sunset's apartment, groceries in hand, and took a deep breath. Then, thrice, she rapped on the door with her knuckles.

Moments later, the door opened, and a face full of sunshine beamed at her.

"Hiya, Wally. Come on in – dinner's almost ready."

Wallflower felt like butter melting on a pile of pancakes, but somehow managed to shuffle into Sunset's home without collapsing into a gooey mess.

She wasn't sure what to expect from Sunset's apartment, whether it'd be a lavish manse as befit a patron of pony royalty, or the spartan home of a working college student who couldn't afford real furniture. Perhaps she had giant cable spools serving as tables, and planks propped up with cinder blocks as bookshelves.

Or perhaps she had a meth lab.

Sunset's apartment defied all those expectations, though. It was, simply, cozy: a surprisingly spacious studio with an adjoining kitchen behind a door. Sunset's sparse decorations made the place feel much more open; a faded green sofa faced a CRT television that sat on an old dresser, with a coffee table between them. The table was littered with game controllers and coasters, and inexplicably covered with rings from drinking glasses.

Part of the studio was curtained off. Wallflower could see a bed through a gap in the curtain, a cabinet, and sitting on the cabinet, a glass cage for Ray, the spotted lizard Sunset credited with staving off her insanity. She could just barely see him standing there, staring at her through the curtain.

"Make yourself at home," said Sunset, pulling the door shut. "I'd offer you the grand tour, but as you can see, there's not really much to, um... see."

Wallflower turned toward Sunset – all those thoughts about what a nice and cozy living space Sunset had, and she was gonna be modest about it? "Sunset, this place is gorgeous."

Sunset frowned. Her gaze wandered around the studio, with its old couch and its old TV and old, ring-covered coffee table.

Then she looked back at Wallflower, and her frown shifted into a grin.

"Most gorgeous thing in this place is standing right in front of me."

Oh, come the hell on, thought Wallflower, as a dopey smile broke across her face.

Sunset followed that deft shift from self-effacement to flirting with a kiss on Wallflower's cheek, and pulled her into a hug.

"You look amazing," she added, her warm breath caressing Wallflower's neck. "Is that a new striped sweater?"

"It is!" Wallflower stammered, still short-circuiting from the feel of Sunset's breath on her neck. She'd bought the sweater just the other day, and a pair of jeans to go with them. They were identical to what she normally wore, except the jeans were bluer, and the stripes of the sweater were brighter shades of beige. "I wanted to look my best for you."

Sunset broke from the hug and pulled away to give Wallflower the bedroomiest of eyes she ever did see. "Well, then you should have shown up wearing nothing."

Oh, come the hell ON.

"So, what's all this?" said Sunset.

What's all what? This? Me? All me?

Then she remembered that she was carrying a shopping bag.

"Oh, right. Um. Surprise!" Wallflower stepped back and hoisted the bag. "I brought stuff."

The bedroom eyes returned.

"Not that kind of stuff!" Wallflower's face suddenly felt like Wonderbread toasted at temperatures it was never meant to reach. "Um, food stuff."

"That's— that's really sweet. But you didn't need to bring anything." Sunset's grin trembled at the edges. "Did I make you feel like you needed to bring something...?"

"No! Nonono, no, I— I just wanted to, is all. 'Cuz when you go to someone's house for dinner, you bring 'em something. Those are the rules."

That sounded stupid – she was babbling, and she knew it. Not two minutes she'd been through the door, and she was already fumbling.

"Uh, so, what do you wanna do after dinner?" she blurted, desperate to change the subject. "Besides, um."

She made scissors with her hands and mooshed them together.

Her gambit drew a giggle from Sunset. "I was thinking we could watch something. I don't have any of that streaming stuff, but there's this cooking show I like to watch. I don't know if you've heard of it."

"You doubt my power, Sunset Shimmer? I subscribe to obscure channels on topics literally nobody I've spoken to has even heard of." Wallflower struck her best 'anime girl aristocrat' pose and oh-ho-ho-ho'd.

Rolling her eyes – and smiling – Sunset said, "It's called Dining With Dinesh, O mighty one. I only ask 'cuz nobody at work even knows about—"

"You watch Dining With Dinesh too?!" Wallflower drew her arms close to her chest, vibrating with glee. "Omigosh, have you seen that crossover special he did with Charro_Chili last month? The one with the—"

"Habanero emergency?"

"I thought he was gonna shit his guts out!"

Wallflower's eyes widened when she realized what she'd screamed, and how loudly she'd screamed it. She pulled her hands against her mouth as if to shove the words back in.

She needn't have worried. Sunset doubled over with laughter, cinching her arms around her belly.

"Oh God," she gasped in between guffaws. "What if he did that on camera; can you imagine Skillshare sponsoring him after that?!"

Wallflower couldn't help but laugh at the thought. "That's... that's one skill..." She mastered herself, cleared her throat, and blurted it out all at once. "That's one skill you really don't wanna share!"

It didn't matter that her joke barely made sense. It pushed Sunset over the edge anyway. She collapsed to the floor, kicking her feet like she was riding an invisible unicycle, laughing, laughing, laughing. Wallflower tried to kneel, but she was laughing too hard; her knees buckled, and she joined her on the floor.

Their laughter gradually died down, settling into a few contented giggles and chuckles. Sunset rolled towards Wallflower, propped her head up with one hand, and wiped her eyes with the other.

"That a yes on Dinesh?" One last giggle burbled out of her.

Wallflower just nodded shakily, sighing. They hadn't even done anything yet, and she was sore.

Maybe she wasn't gonna fumble after all.

---

They spent a little more time on the floor than Wallflower thought they would, but eventually, Sunset led her into the kitchen. Wallflower, her hair tousled and her new clothes wrinkled, followed close behind.

The kitchen was clean and freshly painted, if a little cramped. Blue wooden cupboards, faux-marble countertops, and a pristine steel fridge in the corner made Wallflower think that, unlike her apartment, the place had last been refurnished this decade.

Appliances sat on those gleaming countertops. A microwave, a stand mixer, a sleek blender that instantly made Wallflower jealous – all of them were pristine, except for the microwave, which was flecked with grease and conspicuously sticky. A bready aroma hung in the air, emanating from Sunset's oven. Wallflower wanted to peek at dinner through its well-scrubbed window, but Sunset wanted it to be a surprise, so she buried the urge and resolved to wait.

"So how was work?" said Sunset as she plopped Wallflower's shopping bag on the kitchen counter.

Wallflower shrugged, then realized that Sunset's back was to her, and that Sunset couldn't see her shrugging. "Nyemmmmnnn... meh," she said.

"Sucky day, huh?" Sunset turned to face Wallflower, leaning against the counter. "Wanna talk about it?"

"I mean, it's always give and take at the Learning Annex," said Wallflower. "On the one hand, I got to teach an eight-year-old about stamen and pistils. He didn't even look at his phone, not once during the whole thing."

"Well, yeah, 'cuz flowers are awesome. But on the other hand?"

"His mother told me he was 'too young to learn about that sort of thing.’" Wallflower stretched a sickly sweet smile across her face. "Then she reported me to my supervisor for 'teaching her child how to fornicate.'"

"Eugh. I hate it when you run into people like that." Sunset grimaced. "The other day, at the tutoring center, we had someone from a group called 'Moms for Real Justice' at the front entrance, warning parents about our 'agenda.' Apparently, we're kidnapping children and forcing them to perform back-alley abortions."

Wallflower blinked. "You never told me you were in the back-alley abortion business."

"I was worried you'd try to steal my money if you knew."

"I totally would've. That's why I'm so hurt."

"Well, joke's on you. I spent it all buying children books about—"

"Fornicating?"

"The worst kind of fornicating." Sunset brushed a fringe of hair over her eyes, casting her face in shadow, and dropped her voice to a low register. "The kind where you hold hands."

She maintained a serious expression for all of three seconds before devolving into a snorty gigglefit. Then she fixed her hair, turned back to Wallflower's shopping bag, and rummaged through it.

"Let's see what we've got here." Sunset drew out a big cardboard box first, bright orange and decorated with a pair of crossed hammers. "Communist breakfast cereal?"

"No, unfortunately. See how there's no sickle? And you really shouldn't eat it by itself." Wallflower almost left it there, before realizing Sunset probably needed a little more context. "It's family-sized baking soda. For baking with your family. And absorbing moisture."

"With your family?"

"Yes. It's very versatile." Wallflower paused. "You can also use it to make crack."

"How thoughtful. If only I had a moist family to make crack with."

Implying she does have meth lying around.

Next out the bag was a little can, which Sunset flipped around to examine. "Artisanal tuna?"

"That's cat food. It's for Sephiroth."

Sunset looked bewildered.

"Sephiroth is my cat," Wallflower added.

"That explains the cat on the label." Sunset regarded Wallflower contemplatively. "I didn't know you were Jewish."

Wha?

Sunset continued rummaging, pulling out a jar of grated parmesan, then a container of margarine, some Fruit-By-The-Foot—

"I had a craving," Wallflower explained, "but don't ask me why."

And, finally, a little bag full of thick, white knobs.

"What the..." Sunset peered closely at the bag. "Pine nuts?"

Wallflower stiffened – she thought she'd grabbed a bag of yogurt raisins.

Should've looked closer; stupid, stupid—

"How did you know?!" Sunset cried, delighted.

Wallflower blinked. "Wally-Wally-what-now?"

"This was my favorite study snack back in Equestria; I used to eat a whole bowl of them whenever I had to study for exams!" Sunset ripped open the bag, dipped her hand inside, pulled out a few nuts, and tossed them into her mouth, chewing with gusto. "Yew sherioushly din'no?"

Wallflower chuckled sheepishly. "Is it too late to act like I knew all along, and wanted to surprise you?"

"Yersh." Sunset swallowed. “But that means you got me my favorite snack without asking me, or knowing what it was, as a surprise. And that's just a little bit sweeter, I think."

She stepped up to Wallflower, and planted a tiny smooch on the tip of her nose, which made Wallflower giggle and melt just a little bit more.

Sunset pulled back from the smooch and tapped her chin. "Y'know, come to think of it, some of this stuff'd go pretty good with dinner. You mind giving me a couple minutes?"

Wallflower was still recovering from her nose-smooch, and couldn't parse how unusual it was that Sunset wanted to use her eclectic mixture of gift food to compliment dinner. So, she stammered something in agreement, and backed out of the kitchen.

"Make yourself at home!" called Sunset after her. "Maybe you could introduce yourself to Ray!"

"Right. Introduce myself to Ray. Good idea."

Wallflower brushed aside the curtain separating Sunset's sleeping area from the rest of the apartment and stepped in, coming face-to-face with Ray. His tank, the dresser beneath it, and Sunset's bed were the only furniture. Unlike Wallflower's room, in a constant state of dishevelment, Sunset kept everything tidy. Weirdly tidy, even. No clothes on the floor, and besides a yellow notebook on her pillow, nothing out of place. Even the bed was freshly made, not a wrinkle to be seen. The only decoration was a faded Rainbooms poster above the bed.

Wallflower's gaze lingered on the poster, on Sunset's devil-may-care grin, and the guitar in her hands. Where was that thing, anyway?

Shrugging off her curiosity, she went to introduce herself to Ray. The little guy stood in the exact same spot and pose as when she walked into the apartment and noticed him for the first time. He may, in fact, have been staring at her all along, even through the curtain and the kitchen walls. That was a little creepy, but also flattering, because it meant that reptiles enjoyed looking at her.

"Hey, little guy." Wallflower wiggled her fingers in greeting. "I'm Wallflower. Call me Wally."

Ray looked vacantly at her.

"Yeah, I guess you can't call me Wally. Being a lizard, and all, you don't have the capacity for human speech. I'm sure you can't really understand what I'm saying, either. Am I right?"

Ray's tongue flicked out of his mouth, tasting the air briefly. Given the timing, Wallflower wondered if he wasn't responding to her. If he was, that would make her rethink some of her assumptions on approaching him.

Still, even if he could understand her, she felt as though she could trust the little guy's discretion. Glancing toward the kitchen to make sure Sunset wasn't eavesdropping, she leaned in close to the glass cage.

"So, hey, just between us, does she talk about me? Like, ever?"

Ray slow-blinked at her.

"...Why am I asking you that? You can't answer me. You can't even talk. That's the whole reason I'm talking to you in the first place." Wallflower huffed and crossed her arms. "At least you're flesh-and-blood, though. Not a bag of Wonderbread. Way less weird if I think out loud to you."

Wonnnnnderbread.

"I dunno, I guess I'm still trying to figure out what a girl like that's even doing with someone like me. Not that I have nothing to offer, but she's, like, Sunset Shimmer. The Sunset Shimmer. Go back in time four years and tell me one day I'd be doing the backseat boogie with her, of all people, and I'd... well, probably scream and run away..."

Ray tilted his head.

"Obviously, because someone claiming to have knowledge of my future appeared in front of me and prophesied my sex life." Wallflower sighed and tucked some hair behind her ear. "No, that's not... entirely it, I guess."

She folded her arms on the shelf and rested her chin on them, her face inches away from Ray. He stared back at her, placidly, through the glass.

"I'm sure your mom's told you all about what she used to be like. She kinda tells anyone who'll listen, like she's Catholic and the whole world is one giant confessional. I mean, she's not super-meanie anymore – we both know that – but there's still part of me that finds it all surreal, and I wonder if she feels the same way. I guess that's why I'm asking. Not that you can answer."

Wallflower's breath misted the glass as she spoke, creating a big, foggy splotch that gradually grew and blurred Ray's face. She planted a finger against the fog and slowly drew a line in it with her nail.

"I can tell something's off with her when we're together. Everything's too... too clean, too easy."

Her strokes across the glass grew more deliberate – now she was tracing with her whole fingertip, not just the nail. At first, she'd just been screwing around, burning nervous energy, but a shape had begun to emerge, and she wanted to see what it became.

"I haven't dated much, but I know that relationships are supposed to have a little... I don't know, push and pull, give and take. I feel shitty even saying this, but sometimes it's like she's..."

She's trying too hard to be perfect.

Deciding not to voice that thought, Wallflower pulled her finger away from the glass, disappointed to find that she'd drawn what she always drew when she had nervous energy to burn: a big, round eyeball with jagged blood vessels.

"All those eyes I doodled in high school – now they're all I know how to draw." She huffed, and wiped the offensive oculus away with her sleeve. "Hey, I appreciate you listening to all that, Ray, but do me a favor – keep it just between us, okay?"

Ray closed one of his eyes, slowly re-opened it, then repeated the action with the other.

"I mean it. You can say we talked, just don't tell her what we talked about. It's confidential; I'm confiding in you."

Ray's gaze did not abate.

Wallflower raised her hands defensively. "Dude, I'm not asking you to pick her over me, or whatever. That'd be pointless, anyway. I mean, she's your mom, and I'm just her..."

She trailed off, a hollow feeling in her gut – she suddenly realized she wasn't sure how to finish that thought.

"...Girlfriend? Gal-pal? Booty call?"

Ray's eyes seemed to narrow.

"I guess I should stop sexualizing your mom to you. Sorry." Wallflower frowned. "Wait. Are you mad at me 'cuz she's your mom, or 'cuz we're both girls?"

"Wally? How's it going out there?"

"I think your lizard's homophobic."

"What?"

"What?" Wallflower spun around to find Sunset approaching. "I wasn't spilling my guts to a reptile!"

"Really? That's too bad. He's a good listener, and he keeps secrets very well. Don't you, buddy?" Sunset craned her neck to smile over Wallflower's shoulder, then stepped around her to reach the enclosure.

"With everything going on tonight, I almost forgot to feed him." Sunset bent to open the cabinet, retrieved a box of mealworms, and measured out a serving for Ray. "So, what were you talking about? Please tell me you weren't teaching my son about..."

Sunset dropped her voice to a hoarse whisper.

"Fornicating."

Wallflower snortlaughed and clasped her hands in front of her. "I was asking Ray about your guitar – like, do you ever play for him? That kind of thing."

Seemed a white enough lie.

"I don't really do that anymore," Sunset said without turning around. "And I'm so out of practice that I'd make his poor little ears bleed if I tried, anyway."

Wallflower swiveled her hips, swaying her arms like a pendulum. "You could play for me. I promise, I have an extremely high tolerance for tuneless music."

A jolt stiffened Sunset for the barest of moments. "I don't have the guitar anymore. Put it up for consignment a while back. My amp, too."

Wallflower's arms went limp. "What?"

"Yeah, when I moved into this place, I realized I didn't have room for it. Would've just taken up space. And the Rainbooms aren't getting back together any time soon, so it didn't seem worth hanging on to."

Wallflower glanced at the poster above Sunset's bed. "You think you'll ever pick it up again? I really loved your music."

"Thanks. Who knows? Never say never, right?"

Sunset finished serving Ray his dinner, put the mealworms back, and brushed off her hands on her knees. Then she turned around, a radiant smile on her face.

Lost as she was admiring that pretty smile, Wallflower barely noticed that it didn't reach her eyes. Any attempt at asking if Sunset was okay was quickly put to rest as she closed the distance between them and ensconced Wallflower in a hug.

"It really was sweet of you to bring me all that stuff, Wally." Sunset pulled back to look Wallflower in the eye. She brushed her thumb down Wallflower's cheek, tracing her jaw, and stopping under her chin. "The whole time I was in there without you, I was thinking of ways to show my gratitude."

Wallflower threw Ray an apologetic look over Sunset's shoulder and chuckled. "Well, you're already feeding me dinner, which is the best way to thank someone for anything in my opin—"

Sunset's mouth on hers smothered the rest of that sentence.

Wallflower melted into the kiss, and into Sunset's embrace, her mind short-circuiting so badly that she could practically smell the smoke – an acrid, burnt toast smell that tickled and stung.

Seconds stretched into minutes as their lips moved together until Sunset finally pulled away with a wet little smek. "How's that for gratitude?"

Wallflower wrapped her arms around Sunset's shoulders, smiling slyly. "I think I'm having a stroke."

"What?"

"What?" Wallflower blinked. "Can we keep making out?"

"No. I mean, yeah, but just gimme a..." Sunset lifted her head and sniffed the air. Her eyes suddenly widened. "Fire."

Give you a fire?

A sudden, shrill alarm blared, piercing Wallflower's ears and making her clench her teeth.

Oh. The house is on fire. The thought took another moment to register.

SHIT. The HOUSE. Is on FIRE.

Sunset suddenly shoved away from Wallflower and bolted to the kitchen. Wallflower took a deep breath and chased after her.

Smoke curled from the seams in the oven door. Wallflower's eyes watered and stung, but her vision was still clear enough to see Sunset pull the oven door open. There was a round cooking sheet on the oven's top rack, nascent flames flickering on its surface. Sunset ran to the sink and cranked on the faucet, then flung open the cupboards in search of something to hold water.

"Bad idea!" Wallflower called, but Sunset didn't seem to hear her over the alarm. She wrung her hands, searching the room for something better to smother the fire with. Then the obvious answer hit her, and she smacked herself in the forehead.

Communist breakfast cereal, Wally!

She snatched the baking soda she'd brought off the kitchen counter, tore it open, and flung the contents over the smoldering dinner in the oven. A thick cloud of white smoke immediately burst from the cooking sheet, right into Wallflower's face, overwhelming all of her senses at once. She kept shaking the box, though, until it was empty. Then, gagging, her eyes flooded with tears, she staggered away from the oven, and doubled over into a coughing fit.

She felt a gentle hand on her back, and another on her belly to brace her. She thought she heard a voice, too, but it was difficult to hear over the alarm. As she coughed, the fit gradually subsided, and she let herself be guided out of the kitchen and eased onto the couch.

The alarm cut off suddenly. Moments later, she felt something get pushed into her hands: a glass of cool water. Wallflower took a sip, swished it around in her mouth, and swallowed it slowly, clearing her throat after.

"Thanks," rasped Wallflower.

"I should be thanking you," said Sunset. "The baking soda was a good idea. I wasn't thinking clearly."

"I've had to put out a lot of fires. Call it instinct." Wallflower took one last sip and set the cup down, groaning. "We should probably do something about all this smoke."

Sunset didn't say anything. When Wallflower looked at her, she was seated next to her on the couch, staring at her feet, her lips drawn into a tight, thin line.

Wallflower nudged her shoulder. "Hey."

"Yeah. Um, sorry." Sunset shook her head and stood up. "I'll turn on the fan in the kitchen. Mind opening some windows out here?"

She didn't wait for an answer, and went back to the kitchen, leaving Wallflower alone.

Wallflower did as she was asked, and opened up the front windows as wide as they could go. Then she looked around, wondering what more she could do to make herself useful. There wasn't a ceiling fan in the living room to help air the place out, but there was that notebook on Sunset's bed. She grabbed it, briefly thumbed through it – comp lit notes – and brought it to the window to use as a makeshift fan. Wallflower wiggled, waggled, and waved the notebook; it flopped, flipped, and flapped, but the smoky smell remained.

"This is dumb," she muttered. She dropped the notebook, which fell with a papery fwap on the floor. "Hey Sunset? Anything I can do in there?"

No response came. With growing concern, Wallflower rejoined Sunset in the kitchen, where the ceiling fan was on and whittling away.

She found Sunset in front of the sink, her shoulders shaking. She was wearing something over her hands: big, blocky, rubbery things that might've been oven mitts.

Wallflower approached her from behind and rested a hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Sunset stiffened, sniffled, and stammered. "Sure. Yeah."

"You're crying."

"No. I'm not. It's just the smoke. Gets in your eyes, makes you tear up."

Wallflower brushed a lock of hair out of Sunset's face, cupped her chin, and gently turned her face until their eyes met. "You're sobbing."

"No I'm n—"

A hiccup cut off Sunset. She tried to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand, but the blocky thing she was wearing got in her way. Wallflower reached up and brushed away an emerging tear with her thumb, and let her hand linger against Sunset's cheek.

Sunset leaned into her hand and closed her eyes. "'Kay, fine. 'M crying. A li'l."

"Yeah. C'mon let's get you away from there." She gently eased Sunset away from the sink, getting a better look at her oven mitts in the process. Whatever the hell they were, they didn't look useful in the kitchen. She wanted to ask what their deal was, but held her tongue and drew Sunset in for a hug, letting her rest her big, beautiful, sticky face on Wallflower's brand new, brighter beige sweater.

She glanced into the sink while she held Sunset. The cooking sheet was in there; whatever Sunset had tried to cook was still smoldering. It looked like a lumpy, carbonized cookie.

"What were you trying to make?" Wallflower said.

Sunset's voice, spoken into Wallflower's shoulder, came out muffled. All she heard was 'margarita.'

"You're not supposed to bake those, Sunset."

"Pizza, you goof. Margherita pizza. I opened up the oven to add some of your parmesan cheese, and some oil..."

That explained what she was looking at – she could make sense of it now that she knew what it was supposed to be. The lumps might've been pepperoni... no, Sunset was making margherita pizza, which was just basil and toma—

"Wait, did you say you added oil?"

"You know when you go to a pizza place and they give you a slice with all the tasty grease on it? Mine didn't look like that when I checked on it earlier. So I thought I'd add some oil along with the Parmesan."

“What kind of oil?”

“I dunno. Olive oil.” She handed Wallflower a half-empty green bottle. “This stuff. Extra virgin or whatever.”

Wallflower stared at the bottle, trying to remember all the warnings she’d heard about cooking with olive oil. At the top of that list: It doesn’t take much heat to turn extra virgin oil into extra virgin smoke, or extra virgin fire.

"I dumped too much in by accident and soaked the crust,” Sunset said. She was still looking at the floor, oblivious to Wallflower’s paling face. “So, when I closed the oven, I cranked up the heat. And then we started making out, and I guess I forgot about it for a few minutes."

"How high did you turn up the heat?" Wallflower whispered, terrified of the answer.

"The recipe said to bake at 375... so, uh..." Sunset brushed a hand through her hair. "Five hundred."

"Five hundred?!"

"Yeah, I get it, alright?" Sunset broke away from Wallflower and went back to the sink, her arms tightly crossed against her chest. "I screwed up, I’m an idiot, I know! I know."

Wallflower hadn't heard Sunset snap like that in years. Reflexively, she shrank back. "I'm sorry. I know you were just trying to..."

She trailed off. Sunset wasn't crying anymore – she was stiff as a board, staring into the remains of the dinner she'd tried to cook.

Sunset eventually replied, her voice even, but lifeless. "No. I'm sorry. For snapping at you, and – and all of this. I was supposed to cook for you tonight, and I blew it."

With a bitter chuckle, Sunset shook her head.

"What the hell was I thinking?"

Castigating herself for making things worse, Wallflower whipped her eyes around the kitchen. Her mind clamored to find some way to salvage the situation.

"We can still have a good night, Sunset. We can order out, or... or we could cook something else." She crossed to the cupboard and reached up to pull the doors open. "Let's see what we can—"

The moment Wallflower pulled the cupboard open, something dropped out, thunked her painlessly on the head, and fell to the floor. It was a box of rigatoni, De Beppe brand. Wallflower picked it up.

"'Kay, we have pasta," she said, looking into the cabinets. "Now, what else can we...?"

She didn't finish her thought – she didn't need to. Besides a few cups of instant noodles, the bottom shelf of the cabinet was barren.

Wallflower looked down at the box of pasta and licked her lips.

"Is there anything in the fridge?"

Sunset's answer was immediate. "Leftover basil. Bought way more than I needed for the pizza."

Under different circumstances, Wallflower might've laughed. All those nice appliances, and zero ingredients. A long moment passed with neither of them speaking. Sunset just stared at the wall, her eyes closed, one mittened hand resting pensively beneath her chin.

"If you wanna just go, I'll understand," she said at last.

"What? No! I—"

Wallflower lunged and grabbed for Sunset's hand, but her weird oven mitt got in the way. She grabbed Sunset's forearm instead.

"I meant what I said, Sunset. We can still have a nice night together! We can order out, or make something here—"

"I told you, there's nothing to cook." Desperation strained Sunset's voice. "I got some ramen, a box of pasta, the rest of the olive oil – oh, and the stuff you brought. What, we're gonna toss pine nuts and Fruit-By-The-Foot in oil?"

If Sunset weren't on the edge of a breakdown, Wallflower might've suggested, half-seriously, that they do just that. But she needed a real solution if she was gonna salvage tonight. They could always go to the store and get more ingredients, but... did either of them have the money for that? Her own trip to the store wasn't cheap; the cat food alone was weirdly expensive. Add on the pine nuts and cheese, and she was probably gonna be skipping lunch at work until next—

Something went off in Wallflower's noggin, something that made her smile from ear to ear.

Sunset tilted her head, her expression of panic softening. "Wally? What is it?"

"Go grab the basil from the fridge. I'mma get to know that blender."

Dining With Dinesh was about to save the day.

Comments

[Scampy]

Perhaps Sunset had a wealthy patron, a posh pony princess with inexhaustible wealth sending her money through a transdimensional portal.

Or perhaps Sunset sold drugs.

Wallflower kind of hoped it was drugs. Somehow less intimidating.

You are killing it with these openings btw

Wallflower felt like butter melting on a pile of pancakes, but somehow managed to shuffle into Sunset's home without collapsing into a gooey mess.

I love this analogy because it implies both anxiety and a really soft happy gayness.

She could just barely see him standing there, staring at her through the curtain.

I'm gonna gay-marry your mom, Ray, Wally thought, keen to assert dominance over her reptilian competition for Sunset's affection.

"Is that a new striped sweater?"

"It is!" Wallflower stammered, still short-circuiting from the feel of Sunset's breath on her neck. She'd bought the sweater just the other day, and a pair of jeans to go with them. They were identical to what she normally wore, except the jeans were bluer, and the stripes of the sweater were brighter shades of beige.

Oh my God she's such a fucking DORK, this is the dorkiest I have ever seen her and I absolutely love it.

"That's— that's really sweet. But you didn't need to bring anything." Sunset's grin trembled at the edges. "Did I make you feel like you needed to bring something...?"

I like this little show of anxiety from Sunset. It's nice when people remember that for all her outward confidence, she's not exactly a paragon of mental health.

Wallflower's eyes widened when she realized what she'd screamed, and how loudly she'd screamed it. She pulled her hands against her mouth as if to shove the words back in.

I cannot get enough of how you write her, she's so likeable in such a cute and silly way, she's like nerd-Hameru but with sudden bouts of instantly-regretted confidence to say stupid things.

Apparently, we're kidnapping children and forcing them to perform back-alley abortions."

Wallflower blinked. "You never told me you were in the back-alley abortion business."

"I was worried you'd try to steal my money if you knew."

"I totally would've. That's why I'm so hurt."

"Well, joke's on you. I spent it all buying children books about—"

"Fornicating?"

"The worst kind of fornicating." Sunset brushed a fringe of hair over her eyes, casting her face in shadow, and dropped her voice to a low register. The kind where you hold hands."

Posh is the best at fun dialogue. I learned this in a book about fornicating.

"Sephiroth is my cat," Wallflower added.

She named him this after he burned her house down.

some Fruit-By-The-Foot—

"I had a craving," Wallflower explained, "but don't ask me why."

Okay I laughed at this and woke up my cat so how dare you.

Glancing toward the kitchen to make sure Sunset wasn't eavesdropping, she leaned in close to the glass cage.

"So, hey, just between us, does she talk about me? Like, ever?"

Nervously talking to a gecko about romantic feelings is so fucking Wallycore

"Wally? How's it going out there?"

"I think your lizard's homophobic."

"What?"

"What?"

god fucking dammit I love this story

her mind short-circuiting so badly that she could practically smell the smoke – an acrid, burnt toast smell that tickled and stung.

uh oh

Sunset lifted her head and sniffed the air. Her eyes suddenly widened. "Fire."

uh oh

Oh. The house is on fire.

UH OH

It was really cool to see the pesto ingredients come together to save the day. Pasta is a universal coping mechanism tbh

[Gay For Gadot]

Oh, come the hell on, thought Wallflower, as a dopey smile broke across her face.

Hell yeah Sunset, atta girl. 😎

Oh, come the hell ON.

Wallflower, dear, patience. Wait until after dinner first. 😎😎😎

"That's— that's really sweet. But you didn't need to bring anything." Sunset's grin trembled at the edges. "Did I make you feel like you needed to bring something...?"

Ahahaha... there it is. Beneath the veneer of confidence and charm, Sunset's got her own insecurities and anxieties, and I love seeing them shine through in little moments like this. That's part of why she and Wally work so well together.

She made scissors with her hands and mooshed them together.

Subtle, Wally. Subtle.

Also, tribbing really doesn't work in that position, contrary to the slang.

I subscribe to obscure channels on topics literally nobody I've spoken to has even heard of." Wallflower struck her best 'anime girl aristocrat' pose and oh-ho-ho-ho'd.

Y'know, I'm not saying I'm opposed to Weeb Wally, but this portrayal of her is growing on me. Probably because you're having so much fun with it. I'm down for silly, dorky Wally any day of the week. It's fucking adorable.

He didn't even look at his phone, not once during the whole thing."

Wally must be one hell of a tutor. I'm so proud of her!

Apparently, we're kidnapping children and forcing them to perform back-alley abortions."

"That explains the cat on the label." Sunset regarded Wallflower contemplatively. "I didn't know you were Jewish."

HA!

She stepped up to Wallflower, and planted a tiny smooch on the tip of her nose, which made Wallflower giggle and melt just a little bit more.

Godddd they're so cute together.

She kinda tells anyone who'll listen, like she's Catholic and the whole world is one giant confessional.

Oh man, that's one hell of a line. Fantastic. I'm gonna steal this.

"I can tell something's off with her when we're together. Everything's too... too clean, too easy."

Something that makes anxiety so insidious is how good things can often set off just as many, if different, alarms as bad ones. When you're used to everything going wrong, things going right sometimes can feel like the sword of Damocles--only you can't catastrophize as easily when that blade is forged of good steel rather than wrought iron. What I mean is, I like that Wallflower's anxiety comes from the fact that things have been good, and nothing bad has happened yet, rather than necessarily focusing on her own insecurities due to her past actions or negative views of herself. It's very real, and relatable.

Deciding not to voice that thought, Wallflower pulled her finger away from the glass, disappointed to find that she'd drawn what she always drew when she had nervous energy to burn: a big, round eyeball with jagged blood vessels.

Does she always draw this because she once found it floating ominously in her kitchen during some twilight hour?

Ray's eyes seemed to narrow.

My take? Ray isn't homophobic; he's a puritan. Two girls? Kissing? Holding hands, even? Sure, whatever. But now, they're in his room, about to defile his sacred chamber with the wanton sounds of passion and trembling girlhoods? Ugh. Can't you at least pull a JD Vance and fuck on the couch instead?

A jolt stiffened Sunset for the barest of moments. "I don't have the guitar anymore. Put it up for consignment a while back. My amp, too."

Oh shit, Sunset's the broke one in this story, isn't she? Interesting.

"What?" Wallflower blinked. "Can we keep making out?"

HA! I love this girl.

Poor Sunset. She's broke, doesn't know what she's doing, and is desperate to please and impress the pretty girl she invited over to her humble little home. Man, that's such a mood. 😔 Thank God for Arm & Hammer and Wallflower being there to stop this story from getting too dark and angsty too quick. And thank God Wallflower unknowingly bought the main ingredient to make pesto... pesto makes everything better.

Love how Sunset and Wally interact and play off of each other in this story. This is some good swamp.

[Thought Prism]

"That explains the cat on the label." Sunset regarded Wallflower contemplatively. "I didn't know you were Jewish."

Honestly, I feel like gamer girl Sunset would me more likely to know about one of the most famous villains in gaming than the Jewish tree of life. But still, good joke.