Whoops
“Your meals, sirs and madams,” the waiter said as he floated the meals to the four ponies seated at the table.
“Sirs?” Vinyl glanced around the table, looking to see if maybe somepony else had magically appeared while she wasn’t looking. “There’s only—“ but the waiter had swept away to take the orders of a different table and she blew if off with a sigh.
Octavia patted her back, knowing that this happened all too frequently to the tomboyish mare.
As they began to eat, Vinyl took a few bites of her salad (she would have preferred a hayburger, but this was a ‘formal’ occasion), before scratching her nicely-combed mane. It felt wrong, being so flat and boring, just sitting on her head.
But Tavi had wanted a formal dinner, so a formal dinner she’d gotten. They’d even gotten the traditional dress—a dress for Octavia, and a blue suit, the least traditional suit that would possibly fit in such a setting, for Vinyl.
She had to admit the suit was snazzy—for a suit, at least. And it had all those nice pockets to hide things in—like her shades, tucked out of sight in her jacket, and her earbuds, stuffed in her pants pocket.
She stole another look at Octavia. And that dress showed off her curves very nicely. Perhaps she’d buy it for Tavi instead of renting it. It’d make a nice birthday present.
But the parents were the matter at present, she reminded herself, blinking a few times and taking another bite.
“So, Vinyl,” Octavia’s mother—what was her name again? Oh, yes, Melodia Philharmonica. Apparently, Canterlotian tradition was to pass on last names. Weird. “You said you were a DJ?”
“Huh?” Vinyl shook her head, clearing her mind. “Uh, yeah, I’m a DJ. But I also make my own music for my sets and stuff.”
“How nice!” she said. “Fortissimo, looks like our darling girl is marrying another musician as well!”
Her husband smiled broadly. “The Philharmonica family has always been a musical one. Though I suppose it’ll be the Scratch family once you two tie the knot.”
Vinyl scratched her head. “Um... we’re not sure about that actually. I’m not from Canterlot, and that tradition is something we’re still deciding. So she may just keep her name and I’ll keep mine. Or maybe I’ll change my name.” She shrugged. “I dunno.”
“I see,” Melodia said, narrowing her eyes.
“But, if that’s what you and Tavi want, sure we’ll do the whole name-change thing!” Vinyl backpedaled frantically.
For a few seconds, they both just stared at her, and she tugged at her collar. Then they burst out laughing. “Oh, we’re just messing with you,” Fortissimo laughed. “If you make our daughter happy, that sort of thing is just details.”
Vinyl smiled wolfishly. “Oh, and she makes me very happy too,” she said, before planting a kiss on top of Octavia’s head. “Don’t you?”
“Vinyl,” she hissed, coloring, “We’re in public! With my parents!”
“I knew that,” Vinyl teased, pecking her a few more times, reveling in the grey mare’s fierce blush. “But it’s just so much fun!”
With a grumble, Octavia gave in, her parents watching the antics of the two with amusement.
“But in all respects, you impress us,” Melodia confided as Vinyl took a drink. “We couldn’t think of a better stallion for our daughter.”
Vinyl coughed, the water going the wrong way. The fit didn’t subside for several seconds, with all the others watching in concern. She held up a hoof. “Water... went the wrong way,” she managed, before coughing a few more times.
The married Philharmonicas shared a look that made Octavia’s ears flatten and her pupils shrink before Vinyl could recover to ask the question on her mind.
The two turned back to Vinyl, equally mischievous grins lodged on their muzzles. “I hope you’re stallion enough for Octavia,” Melodia said.
Simultaneously, Fortissimo chimed in, “She likes ‘em big, you know,” at the moment Vinyl took a large bite of salad to regain her composure.
A strawberry suddenly decided to lodge itself sideways in the DJ’s throat. “Chhckhhh...” she managed to gasp out, gagging.
“Vinyl!” Octavia exclaimed, distracted from her glare at the older couple. (It rated a 9 out of 10 on the Disapproval Scale, with only Princess Glares ™ ranking higher. It quite literally could melt steel, if given enough time.) “Hold on!” Lifting a hoof, she brought it down forcefully on the back of the choking mare, not an unusual thing for the earth pony to do, given Vinyl’s propensity for stupid statements.
After a few pounds, the DJ coughed up the offending strawberry. “Thanks,” she said weakly.
“Are you OK?” Octavia asked, worried.
“I’m fine, Octy. Just... give me a moment.” The two shared a nuzzle. “Also,” Vinyl muttered into Octavia’s mane, “I need to talk to you outside for a moment.”
“If you’ll excuse us, Mother, Father,” Octavia said primly, standing, “Vinyl and I need to talk for a moment.”
“Take your time,” the two waved. “We’ll be here.”
The two trotted through the nearly-empty restaurant and through the doors to the street outside.
“Why are your parents acting like I’m a stallion?” Vinyl asked.
Octavia coughed. “I... um...” her voice trailed off into unintelligible mumbles.
“You what?”
“May have never told them you were a mare.” Her voice was barely audible.
“What.” Vinyl stared at Octavia, who shrank away sheepishly.
“It never came up, and I don’t talk to them much, OK?” she cried. “Plus, you kinda look like a stallion wearing that suit.”
Vinyl examined herself. “I guess.”
“And you sound somewhat like a stallion, Vinyl,” Octavia cringed. “My parents just assumed you were, and you look close enough to convince them, I suppose.”
“They don’t know you’re a—“ A hoof found a mouth, and Vinyl shut up.
“No, they don’t know I like mares,” she whispered, looking around furtively.
“And you brought me here to introduce me to them? While we’re engaged? And they didn’t know that?” Vinyl shrieked. “A bit late, don’t you think? They’re gonna flip!”
“Maybe,” Octavia admitted. “But there’s no helping it now.”
Vinyl sighed. “I’m going to need my shades for this.”
“But they’re at home!” Octavia said.
In reply, the DJ pulled out her shades and put them on. “Nope.”
“Vinyl,” the cellist moaned, “I told you to leave those at home!”
“Yeah, yeah,” she waved dismissively, before mussing up her mane back to its customary style. “I need my confidence for this, Tavi. Dropping a bombshell this size requires shades and a cool hairdo.” She loosened the top button on her collar and took a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”
“No, Vinyl, wait! Maybe we should do this another time! Ease into it!” Octavia wailed, grabbing her tail.
“Too late! Once you start, there’s no going back!” Vinyl gulped. “Just like dropping the bass, Octy. No going back!”
“Of course there’s going back!” Octavia protested, dragged along the ground futilely trying to stop Vinyl’s advance. “There’s always going back!”
The DJ flung open the doors to the restaurant, moving over to their table and standing tall. Everypony followed her walk, or perhaps the unusual sight of a grey mare being dragged along the ground, holding onto a tail. She fidgeted for a moment. “I have something to say,” she began, then paused. “Octy, please stop grabbing my tail.”
Reluctantly, Octavia released her grip of iron, blanching so far she nearly matched Vinyl’s coat.
“I have something to say,” Vinyl began again, before clearing her throat and taking a few deep breaths. “Mr. and Mrs. Philharmonica, I’m a mare.” She let out the air in her lungs. “There, I said it. Now let the surprise commence.”
The two older ponies just stared at Vinyl for a few moments. “A mare?” Their jaws were slack in shock.
Octavia tugged on Vinyl’s tail fervently. “Back up, slowly,” she murmured, “And we might make it out alive before they snap out of it.”
The white mare heeded her marefriend’s advice, taking one slow step backwards, then another.
But she was cut off by Fortissimo’s mouth twitching. Twitching again. Octavia tensed, ready to gallop out of the restaurant. The few other patrons and the waiter on duty stopped dead, bracing themselves for an explosion. (Sadly, these kinds of things happened all too often and all too often resulted in significant property damage.)
Then, his mouth curved into a smile as he began guffawing uproariously, soon followed by his wife.
“Wuh—“ Both Vinyl and Octavia were caught off-guard.
“We knew that,” Melodia gasped out, nearly on the floor. “We aren’t blind!”
Fortissimo added between gulps of air and bouts of laughter, “You think we’d be that clueless about our daughter’s partner?”
The two younger ponies were as still as statues, shocked, as the couple laughed off their amusement and calmed.
“Oh, Octavia,” Melodia said, smiling fondly at her daughter, “You really think we didn’t know you liked mares? You’re our daughter.”
Fortissimo broke in, “We’ve known for years, dear. It was pretty obvious.”
Octavia blushed. “Really?”
“Yes, dear, really.”
“Well then,” she said in embarrassment, scuffing a hoof. “I suppose that was much ado about nothing, then.”
Melodia sighed, wiping a tear of mirth from her eye. “It was fun while it lasted, though!” She threw a wink at Vinyl. “I don’t think this dinner is going to get finished, though. It would be a bit awkward. Perhaps next week?”
Numbly, Octavia accepted the invitation, and her mother and father stood up from the table.
As the four walked through the doors, and a relieved proprietor turned the sign on the door to closed, the older pair called for a taxi while Vinyl and Octavia began to trot up the street.
“And don’t forget what I told you, Vinyl! It still applies!” Fortissimo called after the two, chuckling, before turning to his wife. “I like that girl.”
Octavia quickened her pace. “Good night Mother, Father!” she called. “It was nice seeing you goodbye!” She practically dragged Vinyl around the corner and out of sight.
“What was that about?” Vinyl asked.
“My parents, once they get started, won’t stop,” Octavia sighed. “Until you get out of earshot, they’ll keep saying things like that. They love to embarrass me, and to tease people. It’s just their sense of humor—which I’ve had quite enough of tonight.” She slowed marginally. “Let’s just get home and get some sleep; I’m exhausted.”
Vinyl nodded sagely, the darkness hiding Octavia’s burning face, testifying the truth, to her sight.