My Dinner With Shimmer

by Posh

4. Tell Me More...

After Sunset had filled a pot with salted water and set it on the stove, Wallflower guided her through cleaning the basil. It turned out that Sunset hadn't thought to do that when making her pizza. She drifted away after finishing, perhaps embarrassed, and spent the next several minutes silently watching the pot climb to a boil and tapping her weird-looking oven mitts together.

Wallflower hadn't stopped wondering what the hell was up with those. She wanted her curiosity sated, and she wanted Sunset to feel better. Maybe distracting her with a question would kill two birds with one stone.

"So, what's the deal with the oven mitts? What are they supposed to be?

"Hooves." Without looking at Wallflower, Sunset made a sad little flourish with her hands. "Rarity 3D printed them for me before she moved to Manehattan. Said I could wear them if I ever felt homesick."

That seemed kinda racist to Wallflower, but Sunset didn't need to hear that right now. She thought of something else to say.

"They look impractical."

"They are horribly impractical. But she meant well."

Oh, then that makes it okay, thought Wallflower.

But she filed that criticism away for later. Dinner took priority.

While Sunset contemplated the stove, Wallflower studied the blender. It was pretty high-end, with multiple speeds, settings, attachments, and a lid that you could pour through while the blender ran. That was gonna make things much easier.

Just for fun, she reached into the pitcher and gave the blades an experimental twirl. Danger Carousel.

"Alright, we're in business. Just gotta plug this in, and we can start the real prep work." Wallflower picked up the rigatoni and offered it to Sunset. "It boils faster if you don't watch, y'know."

"Ha ha, lol, and dare I say, lmao." Sunset pulled off her hoof-mitts and dropped them by the stove, then took the rigatoni and scanned the cooking instructions. "You're sure you're not supposed to put the pasta in first?"

"We're boiling pasta, not frogs. We heat the water first."

"That's not even true, though. The frog thing, I mean." Sunset shook the box lightly, rattling the noodles. "Princess Celestia used to cook me pasta every now and then. We'd be practicing late at night, and I'd get hungry, and she wouldn't wanna wake the cooks – anyway, she always boiled the water with the pasta."

"And how would it turn out?"

"Soggy. Kinda gross, now that you mention it." Sunset tore open the box and made her way back to the stove. "She made great pancakes though."

She should've stuck with what she knew, then, Wallflower thought.

Sunset removed the lid from the pot to check if it was boiling, and took a cloud of steam full-force to the face. She hissed out some choice words, then shook the pasta into the pot and picked up a salad fork. Gently, she stirred the pasta, occasionally scraping the sides of the pot.

Wallflower grit her teeth at the sound of prongs on stainless steel – a salad fork, really? How did this woman own a blender, but not something practical to stir with? Why couldn't Rarity have 3-D printed her a spatula, or whatever?

Focusing on the task at hand, Wallflower plugged the blender into the nearest, most convenient wall outlet, which happened to be at the opposite end of the counter from the stove. She pulled the blender to be as close to the stove as the cord would allow so she and Sunset could work while keeping an eye on the pot.

"Okay, so that's gonna take eight, maybe nine minutes," Wallflower said. "Let's put this together while it's cooking. Would you grab that olive oil? Everything else we need is right here."

She gestured at the sundries she'd brought for dinner.

Sunset did as she was asked and grabbed that olive oil. "So, are you gonna tell me what we're making now? It's not gonna be some pine nut and fruit-by-the-foot pasta salad, is it?"

"Nah. But we are using the pine nuts." Wallflower grinned. "We're makin' pesto."

Sunset raised an eyebrow. "You got this from Dining With Dinesh."

"...Yeah," said Wallflower bashfully. "Does that make me a fraud?"

"We can be frauds together – I got the pizza recipe from his website. Want me to look up his pesto? I'm a tier two subscriber."

Tier two subscriber doesn't have ingredients doesn't own a spatula—

"Nah. I remember it pretty well. The process is simple, and you don't need much." Wallflower counted off the ingredients on her fingers. "Basil, pine nuts, Parmesan, oil, and—"

She stopped mid-count. Sunset leaned forward.

"And...?"

"...Fresh garlic." Wallflower curled her raised fingers back into her palm. "But hey, four out of five is still good. Most of what we need, I happened to bring, and the rest, you already have."

It was a REALLY good thing she mistook those pine nuts for yogurt raisins.

Sunset folded her arms and tapped her chin with her thumb. "You didn't plan this in advance, did you?"

"If I had, I would've brought the garlic, along with a whole block of Parmesan. You're supposed to grate it fresh."

Although, maybe skipping the garlic on a date night wasn't the worst thing in the world.

Sunset bit the edge of her thumb, then shrugged. "Probably for the best. I don't own a cheese grater."

Doesn't own a cheese grater doesn't own a spatula tier two subscriber to Dining With Dinesh—

Wallflower shook her head. She wouldn't have time to think about anything else if she kept obsessing over Sunset's screwy kitchen situation.

Sunset retrieved Wallflower's bag of goodies, and plopped them beside the blender, alongside the washed basil. Wallflower started adding them to the blender: first the basil, then the pine nuts. She ripped the bag open and shook a healthy amount into the pitcher, taking care not to just dump them all in at once.

"Y'know, far be it for me to suggest we're doing something wrong," Sunset said, watching the nuts tumble into the blender. "But should we be measuring these out?"

"Cooking's more about vibes than precision. However much feels right, or tastes good, that's the correct amount."

"Probably for the best. I don't own—"

"Please don't finish that sentence. Please." Wallflower finished pouring the nuts, sealed the bag, and lightly tossed it to Sunset. "Here. Your study snack."

Sunset looked down at the bag, her gloomy expression softening. "You're pretty good in the kitchen, y'know. The sack too, but especially in the kitchen.

Wallflower tried to suppress the bubbly little smile that Sunset's compliment brought her. "Ah... not really. I watch a lot of cooking shows online, is all. Dinesh, a few others. Sometimes I try to make the stuff I see."

"You ever cook for your mom?"

"No. Not yet, anyway. Actually, you're the first person I've ever cooked for, besides myself. I didn't wanna make anyone else dinner until I was sure my cooking wouldn't kill them." Wallflower snapped the blender's lid back in place. "But don't worry! This is too simple by far for me to screw up."

"Hey."

Sunset's hand joined Wallflower's on the blender. Her thumb stroked Wallflower's knuckles. Wallflower stiffened.

"Before tonight, I didn't even know you were supposed to wash basil. You're way better at this than I am, so don't put yourself down."

Wallflower savored Sunset's hand over hers a moment longer. Then she cleared her throat. "So, um, I'm gonna blend. Could you check the pasta?"

Once Sunset had moved, and Wallflower's hand-holding giddies had run their course, she switched on the blender. Wallflower watched with muted interest as the blades pulverized the nuts and basil into a pale green paste.

"Get blended, idiots."

After a few seconds, she killed the power, and lifted the lid to peek inside. There was a lot of the mixture splattered against the sides of the blender, so Wallflower picked up a nearby spoon and scraped it off. She looked over at Sunset, who was stirring, trepidatiously, with her undersized fork.

"Can I ask you a question?" said Wallflower.

Sunset stabbed a piece of rigatoni onto her fork, brought it to her lips, blew, and nibbled. She shook her head, then, as if belatedly hearing Wallflower's question, hastily overcorrected with a jerky nod.

Cute, thought Wallflower.

"If you knew you weren't very good at cooking, then why did you offer to cook for me?"

Sunset tapped the fork on the edge of the pot to shake off some water, then set it down on the counter.

"It was what you said last night. About buying me dinner because I always drove. The whole way back to your place, I couldn't get it out of my head. I started to worry, what if..."

Wallflower edged toward her. "What if?"

"...What if that's all that this was? Just us doing favors for each other. You buy me food, and I drive you around, and we screw in the car... just a big game of tit-for-tat until we both get sick of it."

A new worry stabbed Wallflower in the belly. "And are you? Sick of it?"

She met Wallflower's gaze, her eyes watery.

"No. And I don't wanna be."

Relief flooded Wallflower, along with the urge to kiss Sunset directly on the mouth right then. She fought it down, though – she still needed answers.

"Why not just say you'd buy me dinner next time we went out? Why offer to cook?"

"I thought that was what you were expecting. And I wanted you to think I was cool. Confident, mature – the way everyone sees me, the way they've always seen me since school."

Her cheeks reddened, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Sounds dumb saying it out loud."

It sounded sweet, and sad, actually. Wallflower let out a guarded smile and squeezed Sunset's arm.

"Hey. You've been on your feet all night. Go sit down – I'll finish up in here, and bring it out when it's ready."

Sunset scoffed. "Kicking me out of the kitchen, huh? Should I turn in my jacket, chef?"

"No! No, I'm not trying to insult—"

But Sunset was smirking. Wallflower's panic abated, and she sighed.

"Go strain the pasta first,” she said. “Ye fookin' donkeh."

As Sunset walked out, she returned to the blender, nabbed the parmesan, and started shaking it out into the mix – but a sudden worry froze her.

That wasn't a slur, was it?

---

When Wallflower emerged from the kitchen, two big bowls and forks in each hand, she found Sunset hunched over on the couch, her hands folded on her lap. She perked up at Wallflower's approach – or maybe she just smelled dinner.

"Ta-da," said Wallflower. "Rigatoni a la Blush e Shimmer."

She set a bowl, laden with noodles and topped with a dollop of bright green goop, on the table in front of Sunset. Not yet finished, Wallflower dug into her pockets and retrieved two paper towels that she'd ripped from the roll in the kitchen, and deposited one on Sunset's lap.

"Itadakimaaaaa-SOO." She sat on the couch beside Sunset, and smiled. "I ran out of Italian."

Behind her smile, her nerves swirled. She hoped it turned out okay.

Sunset took a moment to mix the sauce into her pasta, then stabbed a few pieces of rigatoni with her fork. Wallflower skipped the stirring, and got right to the stabbing, so her forkful of pasta made it to her mouth first. She chewed, slowly, thinking.

Tastes okay, but I definitely miss the garlic. If nothing else, a couple shakes of pepper would've...

She heard quiet sniffling from beside her, and looked over at Sunset. Her eyes were closed, one hand covering her mouth.

"What's wrong? Did you burn yourself? Bite your lip? Or..." Wallflower wilted. "Is it bad? It's bad, isn't it?"

"It's delicious," Sunset whispered, setting her plate down. "God, it's so... so..."

She let out a slow, shuddering sigh.

"You like it? Really?" Wallflower sat her dish down. "'Cuz, I was just thinking of how it could've used more seasoning, and if I'm being honest, skipping the garlic—"

"My girl can cook."

She seemed like she was saying it to herself – like she'd forgotten Wallflower was with her. Didn't stop Wallflower from hearing.

My girl. She called me 'my girl.'

Time froze for Wallflower. She felt dizzy, adrift.

'My girl,' 'my girl,' 'my girl.'

"I need you to sit on my face," Wallflower mumbled.

"What?"

"What? Uh, I mean— hey. I'm glad you liked it." Beet-red, Wallflower grabbed her dish and shoveled as much rigatoni into her mouth as she could, chewing loudly to drown out her mortified thoughts.

'My girl.'

Beside her, Sunset wiped her mouth with her paper towel, then dabbed her eyes and nose. She wadded it up and tossed it on the table, sighing.

"I'm sorry. I've been such a crybaby tonight. It's just— it's been a long time since I've had a home-cooked meal."

Wallflower slowed her chewing. With some effort, patience, and precise timing, she was able to swallow her oversized bite of pasta without choking to death.

"Can I ask you another question?" Wallflower stabbed her fork into her bowl and let it stand, then scooted closer to Sunset on the couch. "Don't take this the wrong way, but how are you alive?"

Sunset scoffed, and followed with a sniffle. She looked sidelong at Wallflower.

"You saw my microwave, right? Instant noodles, canned soup, frozen crap – it's not haute cuisine, but it's filling. When I can't afford that, I raid the free pantry at work. It's s'posed to be for the students, but they usually don't mind if tutors take from it."

Jesus. She said that so breezily, like it was normal for her to live off charity.

"Occasionally, there'll be something good in the break room, too," Sunset added. "There's always fast food, but between my rent, utilities, tier two subscription status—"

Wallflower started to smell burnt toast again.

"—And regular car payments on top of everything else, I usually can't afford to eat out. Applejack takes pity on me from time to time, though, brings me stuff."

"Like what?" The answer came to Wallflower immediately. "Oh, duh. Apples."

"Mostly apples, yeah. Once there was a persimmon in the bag, too. No idea where she got it, but that was a good week." Sunset smiled at her reminiscence. "Anyway, I'm not in danger of starving to death, or anything. I'm just not that good at taking care of myself. That's all."

'That's all,' indeed.

Wallflower scooched closer to Sunset until they were thigh-to-thigh. She took a moment to gather her thoughts before speaking.

"Y'know, pesto's pretty easy to make. And if you know how, you can find all the ingredients for cheap. I could show you how to make it. No tier-two subscription required."

Sunset blinked. Her eyes briefly darted towards Wallflower's lips. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean – I'm no Dining With Dinesh, but I'm pretty good at a few basic meals. I could show you how to make them. We could cook 'em together. And maybe that's what this could be."

"What do you mean?"

She gave Sunset a big, hopeful smile, while praying that there was no basil in her teeth.

"Y'know, instead of doing this or that for each other, and trying to keep things even... we have the kind of thing where we go shopping and cook together."

Sunset didn't respond right away. She opened her mouth, closed it again, stammered out something thin and weak.

Then, suddenly, she wrapped her arms around Wallflower and pulled her in close.

Wallflower, shuddering, sank into the embrace. She buried her face in Sunset's neck and sighed with contentment, feeling safe and sound and very much at home.

A whisper from Sunset tickled her ear. "We can still screw, though, right?"

"Oh, naturally. Maybe even in a bed."

Just as long as it's your bed.

Comments

[Scampy]

"Cooking's more about vibes than precision. However much feels right, or tastes good, that's the correct amount."

This is incredibly correct. Smart green bitches.

Wallflower watched with muted interest as the blades pulverized the nuts and basil into a pale green paste.

"Get blended, idiots."

I'm always saying this.

"My girl can cook."

ughhhh I love this

Jesus. She said that so breezily, like it was normal for her to live off charity.

Oh. This gets to me. Hm. 2020 was a bad year. I'm still grateful for the soup and other things you sent me.

"Y'know, instead of doing this or that for each other, and trying to keep things even... we have the kind of thing where we go shopping and cook together."

Sunset didn't respond right away. She opened her mouth, closed it again, stammered out something thin and weak.

Then, suddenly, she wrapped her arms around Wallflower and pulled her in close.

Wallflower, shuddering, sank into the embrace. She buried her face in Sunset's neck and sighed with contentment, feeling safe and sound and very much at home.

ughhhhhhhh I LOVE this

[Gay For Gadot]

That seemed kinda racist to Wallflower,

Right?! What the hell, Rarity! 🤣

Danger Carousel.

Wally, no!

I'm pretty sure Sunset inherited Celestia's poor cooking skills via osmosis.

How did this woman own a blender, but not something practical to stir with?

C'mon Wally, isn't it obvious?

gifdb.com/images/high/ice-cube-i-m-broke-as-a-joke-8gven3cfil624x4a.gif

Tier two subscriber doesn't have ingredients doesn't own a spatula—

Doesn't own a cheese grater doesn't own a spatula tier two subscriber to Dining With Dinesh—

This reminds me of my first apartment (I moved out at 18), where I made it a priority to find and buy a pool table, complete with billiards set, cues, and cue rack, but the only spices I had in my cupboards were salt and pepper. My first roommate was baffled I didn't have anything else. She was one of my very humble introductions to this thing called "cooking". (You mean you can make something other than sandwiches, cereal, and hitting up the Taco Bell drive-thru??)

"Get blended, idiots."

I heard this in my girlfriend's voice. 😎

And I wanted you to think I was cool. Confident, mature – the way everyone sees me, the way they've always seen me since school."

Damn, big mood, Sunset. No wonder I love this character.

That wasn't a slur, was it?

It's okay, Wallflower; in Equestria, hot chicks get the D-word pass.

"My girl can cook."

Silly Wally, you've been hers longer than you could ever imagine.

"I need you to sit on my face," Wallflower mumbled.

😎😎😎

"Y'know, instead of doing this or that for each other, and trying to keep things even... we have the kind of thing where we go shopping and cook together."

Wallflower, shuddering, sank into the embrace. She buried her face in Sunset's neck and sighed with contentment, feeling safe and sound and very much at home.

Together, home. That's what everything boils down to, in the end. And you've captured this beautifully.

Gotta say, I was not expecting a bit of role-reversal in this story with Wallflower being the one to comfort and help Sunset out of a bad situation. Struggling to get by and not really knowing how to take care of yourself isn't, like, life-threatening, but harmful in its own way, nonetheless. Seeing Wallflower save the evening and plant the seeds for Sunset to start taking better care of herself is beautiful and heartwarming and a wonderful resolution to Wallflower's own worries about her perceived inadequacies and uncertainty in their relationship. It's a refreshing twist on a common thread between these two, and I'm so here for it.

[Snowdrifter]

Came for the pesto
Stayed for the dawwwww