the one and the only
An army of cakes. Fleets of pies. Legions of ice cream. Strudels and empanadas and creme brulee and crepe suzette and cannoli. The decorations on each treat were picturesque: strawberries, peaches, kiwi, blueberries, grapes, banana slices, coconut shavings, vanilla icing, chocolate frosting, candies, all arranged and organized and teased into works of art. To eat any of these delicacies would be a sin.
It’s a good thing then, that Spike wasn’t in a very sinful mood. Instead, his little claws busied themselves by keeping track of how much food had been brought in for Princess Twilight’s banquet: checking off this and that and the other thing and, oh, can’t forget that.
The banquet chamber, currently, was quiet: Twilight and her friends were in their meeting room discussing further events to take place later today, so that left plenty of ambience and decorations as company. Pinkie Pie had gone out of her way to dress the banquet hall to look almost as delectable as the food.
Spike had just reached the end of Twilight’s checklist when he heard a quiet sound next to him. Turning sharply, he jumped in surprise at the teenage filly who had somehow wandered in.
She smiled sweetly, her green eyes grinning all on their own, as her candied purple curls bobbed all about her head. She stood excitedly, staring out at the treats, the heart-shaped musical note on her flanks almost chiming. “Are these all for the banquet?” she asked.
“Yes, Sweetie Belle,” Spike said curtly. “And didn’t Rarity say you were on a diet?”
Sweetie Belle’s face fell. Indeed, her parents had noticed her recent increase in size (her width as opposed to her height), and as such, she was put on a diet of NO SWEETS WHATSOEVER as well as her dastardly archnemesis, Plenty Of Exercise.
And she’d been amicable about it. She’d jogged around the block each morning, ate her light breakfasts, her light lunches, her single-helpings of dinner, then jogged around the block during the evening. She’d done it for days! Two, in fact. Sweetie Belle had dropped a good three pounds in that time, and honestly, after all that torture she felt she was due for a treat.
But it looked like Spike was going to be an obstacle. He certainly wouldn’t have been the first: every time Sweetie’s friends Apple Bloom and Scootaloo would go and grab some of the usual sweets from Sugarcube Corner, Sweetie Belle found herself uninvited.
Of course, it’s not like they needed the dieting or exercise: Apple Bloom was now old enough to work on her family’s farm and Scootaloo was the natural athlete of the group. Both had their exercise, no matter how hearty they ate, and it showed with Apple Bloom’s tall and sturdy figure and with Scootaloo’s trim build.
But Sweetie Belle, while just as adventurous as her friends, was more an indoors filly. An indoors filly with a sweet tooth. A sweet tooth that demanded sugary tithe like an impatient pagan deity.
Like that cheesecake right over there, just behind Spike—Spike who scowled, disapprovingly, arms folded, tapping his foot as if waiting for Sweetie Belle’s wandering mind to stop wasting the readers’ time with exposition and return to the present.
“Y-Yeah,” Sweetie said demurely. “But I’ve been good about it so far...”
Spike shrugged and walked around the table, this time taking count of the silverware laid out. “Then keep being good about it,” he said over his shoulder.
Sweetie Belle thought to make a move at the delicious cakes and scrumptious pies, but then Spike would tell Rarity—and then Rarity would tell Mom—and then Mom would tell Dad—and Dad would just shrug and ask what’s for dinner—and Mom would bonk him upside the head—and then they’d argue for hours and later have noisy makeup sex and Sweetie Belle wouldn’t be able to sleep for three days afterward. And she couldn’t have that.
Sweetie Belle rubbed her chin in thought. Think, think, think. What would a smart, beautiful pony like Rarity do in a situation like this?
...
“>:D,” said Sweetie Belle’s face.
It’s a fact. Counting silverware is not fun.
In fact, Spike had lost count and begun to make up his own numbers. There were oompty-three forks, bumba-four spoons, and onkydonk-six knives. So, check, check, check, next item and he’s done.
“Let’s see...”
He looked up from his list as he heard somepony clear her throat. There, laying across the banquet table between the empanadas and the cannoli, was Sweetie Belle. Despite the weight she’d gained, she looked radiantly inviting: the pronounced curvature of her flanks, the confident and beautiful smile, the wanting stare...
...the raised tail.
“Spike, dear,” she cooed smoothly, “have I ever told you I always thought you’re cute?”
Spike popped an eyebrow. Sure, he’d been called cute before, but only in ways that felt pandering or condescending. To everypony else, he was still just a kid, no matter how old he got or how hard he tried to prove himself…
...But Sweetie Belle was different. She was in his age range, and therefore treated him more as an equal instead of an assistant. Rarity, once the apple of Spike’s eye, had become less and less appealing the older he got and the more she ignored him, to the point where he honestly didn’t know what to think of her, or even himself.
And here was Sweetie Belle, one of the kindest, gentlest, sweetest fillies in Ponyville, openly hitting on him. What else could a teen dragon do but blush and pretend to go over his checklist again?
“I, er, I-I think your diet is starting to get to you,” Spike stammered.
Sweetie rolled around on the table, now looking at him upside-down, fluttering her eyelashes flirtatiously. “I agree,” she says. “I think I should break from it, just this once, and put my mouth around something hard yet...” Her voice became a husky whisper. “...Tender.”
Spike gulped as the heat in his face skyrocketed. If it hadn’t been for Sweetie’s come-ons, he might have thought he was coming down with a fever. “T-Tender?”he echoed moronically.
“Yes,” she said airily, rolling back up onto her belly. “Something hot I can put inside me and savor. Something that can really...” Sweetie leaned off the table a little, giving Spike a good view of her plump, pearl-white barrel as she took a deep breath. “...Fill me up.”
Spike’s heartbeat was fast-approaching ludicrous speed. He smiled insecurely as he chuckled. “W-Well, um… i-in that case, maybe I can get you something?”
“There is something I know you can get me,” Sweetie Belle said as she slunk off the table, now circling Spike. “I’m rather peckish, so I’ll have a little of everything. We could start with a taste of pie...”
“...Yeah, p-pie,” Spike mumbled dreamily.
“And then we could chase it with something, oh, I don’t know...” Sweetie brushed her tail under Spike’s chin. “Cream-filled.”
“Cream sounds… delicious,” Spike said with a faraway smile and dreamy voice. Sweetie Belle had cast no magic, yet he was totally under her spell. She thanked Celestia that hotness ran in her family.
Sweetie Belle leaned in and kissed his cheek. It was quick. It was loving. It was affectionate. It was also way more that Spike’s poor teenage mind could handle. He blew out like a candle in the wind and fell over with a thud, a blissful smile on his face.
Sweetie giggled. Even though she knew what she did was kind of mean, Spike seemed to enjoy it.
She looked aside eagerly at her prize: the table full of eats and treats and sweets. The cakes and the pies and the ice creams and fruits and other foods begging her to eat them. Sweetie Belle rubbed her front hooves together expectantly, her grin wide and toothy as her giggling went from cute to oddly menacing.
Then Sweetie Belle leapt at the food like a tiger on its prey, taking bite after bite after bite, savoring flavor after flavor, chowing away to her heart’s content.
And so, the little filly…
...became a very, very, very big filly.
Spike and Sweetie Belle skipped along the grassy meadow, the yellow flowers blowing in the beautifully cool breeze, flapping against Sweetie’s wedding dress, her veil caught in that same breeze and swimming behind her. Her smile was so radiant in this light. Her sparkling green eyes peppered fluttering sensations all over Spike’s heart.
Church bells rang in the distance as the newly-wedded couple ran by their gathered friends, Twilight Sparkle looking on proudly as Rarity waved to her little sister, both near tears at the sight of the two of them so grown up.
He grabbed Sweetie Belle by the hooves and spun around her as the birds sang above. The two of them laughed as innocently as children as their dance became closer, more intimate, melting finally into a warm kiss.
They fell, Spike on top of Sweetie Belle, into the tall grass, where
Spike woke up.
“Crap!” he barked, sitting up. “Wh-What time is it?! Is the banquet already over?!”
“In a sense?” Sweetie Belle said. “Yes.”
Spike looked to the table and found it empty. Every crumb had been gobbled, munched, crunched, and otherwise eaten in what was sure to have been the most violent banquet ever not witnessed.
Sitting on one of the nearby chairs was Sweetie Belle. When she came into the banquet hall, she’d been only carrying a cute little pot belly. The mammoth sitting on the chair right now was big enough to be two fillies. She didn’t seem too perturbed by what she’d just done—resting mirthfully, snuggling into her chair, a smile on her lips as she folded her forelegs behind her head, her pillowy middle expanding then deflating with a happy sigh.
“Why are you so pleased?!” Spike growled, his feet stomping the floor as he drew nearer.
“Because that was the best food I’ve ever eaten,” she answered honestly, and a little stupidly. Spike eyed the empty wine bottles that sat near the plates. That explained a lot.
“That was for a banquet!” Spike said, waving his claws about as he stopped in front of Sweetie Belle. “That was for everypony! Twilight’s gonna be pissed! And Rarity? I’d hate to hear what she’d think!”
The realization hit Sweetie Belle with all the power and grace of an out-of-control train. Her eyes widened. Then they shimmered with tears as her bottom lip quivered. She thrust her face into her forehooves and sobbed quietly.
“Sure, go ahead, cry,” Spike murmured angrily. “That’ll totally fix the problem.”
“You don’t understand!” Sweetie wailed. “This diet was horrible! And that food looked so good, and—and—and I’m so sorry I ate it all; I just couldn’t stop myself!” Her words bubbled back into sobs.
Spike watched her cry a little bit more, his hard heart softening more and more until finally he gave up with a sigh. He walked over to her and rested a claw on her shoulder. “Hey, I’m sorry for making you cry. But we need to fix this problem.”
Sweetie Belle stopped crying, looking thoughtfully at Spike. She sniffled. “...How?”
Before Spike could name any ideas (For “Rupert” and “Stanley” have always been his favorite names for ideas), he heard the telltale clip-clop-clip-clop of incoming Diabolus Ex Machina. Eyes were widened in spiraling terror, both his and hers.
Spike looked to a window. They were on the first floor, so it should make a good escape. “We can’t let them catch you!” he said. “Out the window, quick!”
I’m sure you all know what happens next, so I’ll phrase it in the most sensitive way I possibly can.
Sweetie Belle got her fat ass stuck in the window.
Well, it was honestly sort of a cute sight: her huge, round pearl-white bottom sticking out the confining window, her short, stubby legs kicking fruitlessly as her candied purple tail bobbed about. Spike had to stifle a snort of laughter. “This isn’t funny!” Sweetie Belle hissed. “Push me out!”
“Okay, okay,” Spike giggled.
He didn’t expect his claws to sink into Sweetie Belle’s flanks as he pressed against her—and from the embarrassed squeak she made, neither did Sweetie Belle. Blushing madly, Spike decided upon a different approach: pushing her out with his shoulder and elbow. His face was sinking halfway into her right buttcheek when he decided this wasn’t working either.
The doors to the banquet hall began to open. Clenching his teeth, Spike abandoned the idea of pushing Sweetie Belle out, and whipped off a linen cloth from a nearby conveniently placed pile of linen cloths, draping it over Sweetie’s hind end. “Stay still and be quiet!” he whispered.
In walked Twilight and Rarity, whose conversation on the solution to world hunger came to an abrupt stop as they saw a banquet hall bereft of any banquet to speak of. Spike held his arms behind his back, smiling and generally looking as innocent and nonchalant as he could.
Twilight walked over to Spike, her purple eyes spelling trouble with a capital BIG. “Spike, what’s the meaning of this? Where’s all the food?!”
Spike blinked, his wide-eyed smile becoming stupid. “...What food?”
“The food,” Twilight repeated, pointing at the empty table. “The food that was on the table!”
“I don’t see any food on that table.”
“Of course not! It was there before!”
“Where?”
“There!”
“Where?”
“THERE!!!”
` A pause. Spike blinked, his smile still stupid. “What’re we talkin’ about?”
Rarity decided to step in before the situation spiraled any further out of control. “Spikey-Wikey, I believe you know something about why the banquet is suddenly missing...”
She analyzed him closely. Too closely. The kind of closely that could have landed Rarity in jail had their genders been reversed. Spike finally snapped. “Okay! It was me! I ate it all!”
Twilight stomped a hoof and grunted like an indignant teenager. “Spike, you know better! I’m disappointed in you!”
Rarity placed a hoof on Twilights shoulder. “Now, Twilight, dear, this is no time to let your temper get the better of you. Those delegates couldn’t make it to the banquet anyway; that’s why we were in the middle of canceling it. It isn’t any bigger a loss now than it was when they gave us their notice.”
“Then is it okay for me to admit it’s really my fault?” asked a demure little voice from behind Spike.
Twilight and Rarity raised eyebrows as Spike shrunk down nervously, the big white drape behind him sighing. “Yes, Rarity,” said Sweetie Belle, “it was me.”
Sweetie Belle couldn’t see Rarity’s face, but she could feel that disapproving frown and that disappointed look in her eyes. “I was on that diet for only two days, but I couldn’t keep up with it. I had to have some sweets! And there was this banquet that was about to go on, and… and I got greedy.”
Rarity couldn’t see Sweetie Belle’s face, but she could feel each tear rolling from her sister’s eyes. “I’m so sorry...” Sweetie Belle mewled between heartbroken sobs.
Rarity slowly approached the large, wobbling pearl-white bottom in the window, Spike stepping out of her way. She placed her hoof on Sweetie’s back to comfort her. “Listen, Sweetie Belle darling. I know the pressure of being forced to do something you don’t like can wear out both your patience and sanity, and I’m more familiar with greed than I care to admit. So I’m not mad at you. I’ll never be mad at you. But I hope you’ve learned something very important today.”
Sweetie Belle sniffled. “Curry doesn’t go with banana milkshakes?”
“No.”
“Don’t stuff so many bon bons into your mouth just to see how many you can fit?”
“What? No.”
“...Strawberries aren’t really made of straw?”
“No!” Rarity said impatiently. “Actions have consequences. The more negative your actions, the more negative the consequences are going to be. We only put you on that diet because we want what’s best for you. If you felt we were being too harsh, you only needed to say something.”
Sweetie Belle sniffled. “Really?”
“Yes,” Rarity said with a nod. “We could have reached a compromise.”
There was some silence as Rarity rubbed Sweetie Belle’s back. “Well?” Rarity asked. “Don’t you have anything else you think you need to say?”
Sweetie Belle thought about it a moment before finally realizing the answer. “I’m sorry for ruining your banquet, Twilight.”
Twilight sighed, her anger defusing a little. “That’s okay, it was ruined before you even ate the food. Don’t worry about it too much, but don’t do this again.”
“And I’m sorry for manipulating you, Spike.”
Spike’s heart sunk. “You… manipulated me?” he murmured, his eyes shimmering with barely-held tears.
Sweetie Belle sucked in a bubble of air after realizing what she’d said. “Well, I-I meant what I said about thinking you’re cute! All that other stuff was because I was just trying to get to the cakes!”
Twilight and Rarity shared amused smiles as they looked from each other to Spike. He stood there dumbly, his face red like a green-spiked, wall-eyed, lovestruck tomato. Twilight elbowed him playfully. “Ease up, ladykiller,” she said. “Leave some for the other bachelors.”
Rarity giggled into her hoof.
“So, uh, is there any way you guys can get me out of this window?” Sweetie Belle asked, fidgeting. “Like a teleportation spell or something?”
Twilight knew a few spells about that kind of thing, but because I’m as lazy a writer as she is a Princess, it’s not about to happen. “Sweetie Belle, I can’t get you out,” she said. “Magic can’t just be the solution to all of your problems. It’s why your parents didn’t just lyposuction the fat out of you to begin with. I’m afraid that until you slim down, you’re stuck.”
(Yeah, that’s a better explanation; let’s go with that.)
Sweetie Belle frowned and sighed in defeat.
A wadded piece of paper bounced off Sweetie’s face, jerking her out of her nap. “I DIDN’T DO IT, OFFICER!” she bellowed in shock.
“Good shot, Silver Spoon!” Diamond Tiara crowed. “You woke up that hippo in the window!”
Sweetie Belle groaned. For the past three days, she’d been held prisoner of the Tightest Window in the Whole Wide World, and for those three days, nothing much had happened. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo occasionally came by to give her some water and maybe a celery stick to munch on, and Rarity and their parents would come by and chat, and Twilight and Spike were nice enough to give her a book or two for reading.
But it was only a matter of time before the resident bullies caught wind of Sweetie Belle’s predicament. She sighed, unamused, leaning her face onto her hoof. “What do you want, Diamond Tiara?” she called down.
“You know, I used to call you a Blank Flank,” Diamond Tiara began.
“Yeah, that was sure relevant for the time,” Sweetie Belle said sarcastically.
“...But now I think I’ll call you Lard Butt!” she continued, ignoring Sweetie’s comment.
Sweetie Belle gave her tormentors some mock applause. “Oh wow, some variety,” she said dryly. “Show me the other sixty-three flavors, why don’t you.”
“Other flavors?” Diamond Tiara giggled. “Don’t you ever stop eating?”
Sweetie Belle sighed. Here it comes.
“You’re so fat,” Silver Spoon said, “your butt’s shadow weighs ten pounds!”
Diamond Tiara laughed so hard, she nearly fell over. “You’re so fat, you have to wear two watches—one for each time zone!”
“Ha ha! How does Sweetie Belle spell ‘refrigerator’? O-I-C-U-R-M-T!”
“Did you hear what happened? Sweetie Belle was told it was chilly out—so she ran outside with a spoon!”
“How do you avoid an earthquake? Make sure Sweetie Belle doesn’t trip!”
“This isn’t the first time Sweetie Belle got stuck. The first time, she just jumped up in the air!”
Sweetie Belle looked upon them with hardening eyes and a harder scowl. Ignoring them seemed to work before, but before was when she was still a blank flank. Before was when they were little foals. Before was when she was still small and petite and not so fat she couldn’t even crawl out a window.
As much as she tried ignoring their rapidfire insults, fat joke after fat joke after tired, cruel fat joke began to weigh on Sweetie Belle’s patience. She just wished she could shrink into a teeny, tiny ball and just disappear. The hour of insults stretched on for what felt like forever.
“Sweetie Belle’s so fat, she has to to use a boomerang to put on a necklace!” Diamond Tiara crowed.
“Sweetie Belle’s so fat, her blood type is gravy!” Silver Spoon said, now more an attempt at topping Diamond Tiara’s last joke.
Diamond Tiara laughed so hard she ripped a fart. (Don’t worry, it was quiet enough nopony heard it.) Before she could make another joke though, there came a voice from behind them.
“What’s black, smells like sulfur, and has maybe one brain cell between them?”
Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon looked behind themselves and spotted Spike, his arms crossed, his brow furrowed impatiently, a frown clenching his scaly lips.
Missing his warning, Silver Spoon answered, “Snips and Snails after hosting a barbecue!”
...Okay, that was funny. Even Sweetie Belle had to crack a smile at that one.
Her smile widened as Spike blew some dragon-fire over their heads, singeing their expensive hairdos. The two teenage fillies looked at one another, then back at a glaring Spike, who grunted, a puff of black smoke rolling from his nostrils dangerously. They screamed as they scrambled over each other, running for sweet, sweet sanctuary from the Hairdo-Destroyer.
Spike and Sweetie Belle watched them run until they became specks in the distance. Sweetie only noticed, after some silence, that Spike was leaning against the wall next to her window.
He looked so handsome in this light. The way his smile curved, dimpling his reptilian face. The way his exotic green eyes shimmered. She blushed as he crossed his arms nonchalantly.
Then Spike handed her a donut. “I know it’s been tough for you. Thought this might help you feel better.”
Sweetie looked at it, taking in its glistening glaze and dark chocolate and pink sprinkles. She hadn’t had a treat like that in what felt like forever. Her decision was simple and obvious.
She pushed it away.
“No, thanks,” she said sweetly. “I’m trying to get out of this window. But thanks anyway.” She leaned forward and gave him a slow, lingering kiss on the head. “You’re very sweet, Spike. Sweeter than any dessert.”
Spike mumbled something in response, shrinking away after Sweetie’s lips left his noggin.
Sweetie watched Spike as he wandered away in adorably shy silence, his face glowing red as the donut in his hand fell to the ground and was forgotten. She found her eyes magnetized to the hypnotizing sway of his tail, just before he rounded the corner, walking out of sight.
So the next week came and went, with Sweetie Belle a temporary furnishing at Casa de Twilight.
Throughout that week, Sweetie felt herself becoming slimmer and slimmer. She still wasn’t skinny by any stretch, but today she had a great feeling—a feeling that got even greater when she tried pushing herself from the window and actually budged!
It was only a half an inch, but it was distance.
“Apple Bloom! Scootaloo!” she said, calling for her friends the moment she saw them.
They ran over to her as she continued her struggle out of the window. “I’m getting loose!” Sweetie said happily.
Apple Bloom popped an eyebrow, smirking. “Spike hasn’t been up to any funny business back there, has he?”
Sweetie Belle paused with a dangerous smile on her face, fighting the urge to bitch slap her best friend. Instead, she reached out her forelegs. “Today’s the day! Pull me out!”
Both fillies grabbed her forelegs and pulled with all their might. Sweetie Belle could feel the malleable fat in her sides sliding against the grooves of the window, and with every yank from her friends, she was pulled out little by little.
In fact, a little TOO little.
“Come on, guys, we’re almost there!” Sweetie cheered. “I’m almost free!”
Apple Bloom and Scootaloo stopped pulling, settling down into gasping pants and sweating, shaky forms. “We—huh!—need some—hahh!—help,” Scootaloo opined.
Apple Bloom fell onto her back in exhaustion, the sweat from her forehead and hair taking flight and sprinkling the grass around her. Her chest heaved as her eyes lost focus. ”Well, don’t hurt yourself,” Scootaloo said brusquely as she got up to get some help.
Soon, help arrived like a math equation. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo, multiplied by Twilight, Rarity, and Spike, were not enough to yank her free. So then was added the might of Applejack, Big Macintosh, and Rainbow Dash. Then came the unknown quantity of Pinkie Pie, followed by the imaginary number Fluttershy. Their combined efforts saw the subtraction of Sweetie Belle from the window.
Unfortunately, that subtraction ended up launching Sweetie Belle high into the sky, her fat body a rocket that punctured holes in many clouds as she soared over Ponyville.
“Now that Ah think about it,” Apple Bloom said after a pause, “wouldn’t it have been easier if we’d just pulled her inside Twilight’s castle instead of just out th’ window?”
There was dumbfounded silence, followed by a crowd of facehoofing and groaning.
Twilight suggested a search party. Fluttershy suggested letting her critter friends track Sweetie Belle by scent. Scootaloo suggested live bait, to which Rainbow Dash agreed and volunteered Fluttershy. Pinkie Pie suggested a suggestion, which was not helpful in the slightest, but hey it’s the thought that counts.
Before anypony could put any of their plans (sadly, none were named Rupert or Stanley) into motion, there came somepony over the horizon. She was a not-slim-at-all filly, pearly-white pelt, heart-shaped musical note cutie mark, candied purple mane and tail, green eyes. Strangely, she seemed to have sprouted an extra set of four legs, all pink.
Upon closer inspection, it was apparent Sweetie Belle was dazed. Her eyes rolled in opposite directions and her tongue lolled out of her mouth as the four legs beneath her carried her along. “Even as our cloudy fancies take, suddenly shape in some divine expression,” she muttered, “even as the troubled heart doth make, in the white countenance confession, the troubled sky reveals the grief it feels.”
“Grief, shmief,” Diamond Tiara grumbled as she approached the search party. “The sky's not the one carrying your fat ass around.” With a shrug, she dumped Sweetie Belle on the ground in front of them. Her new mane-cut was visibly frazzled, sweat caking to her pelt, covered in bruises, the most pissed-off expression anypony had ever seen her make crumpling her lips and flaring her nostrils and bulging her eyes.
Suddenly, her face softened.
“I believe this is yours,” she said evenly. Then she turned and, with haughty dignity, left.
Rarity and Spike were the first to approach Sweetie Belle, who was at this point still out of it. “Sweetie Belle, darling!” Rarity said, shaking her sister. “Are you all right?!”
“Are you my mother?” she asked blankly.
Rarity paused. “No,” she snorted with a scowl.
“You are not my mother!” Sweetie bellowed, suddenly sitting up. “You are a Snort!”
Then she belted Rarity in the face, got up, and ran away faster than somepony her size should have physically been able to do.
“She’s got a concussion!” Twilight said in alarm. “We need to get her to a hospital, NOW!”
Everypony gave chase. “Oh, don’t mind me,” Rarity said from where she lay on the grass. “I’ll just stay here until the end of the story.”
Thankfully, Rainbow Dash managed to catch Sweetie Belle, though there was a struggle. I’m not going to detail it because this story’s gone on long enough already, but rest assured that it was pretty epic.
The hospital is the last place you’d ever want to find yourself in, but there was at least some relief for Sweetie Belle. For one, she wasn’t soaring through the air at a dangerous velocity. Second, the hospital food wasn’t so bad. Considering.
She lay in her hospital bed, bandage around her head as she continued to read the book Twilight had loaned her while she was still stuck in the window. She’d gotten to the part where the heroine of the story was meeting the Queen of Hearts when she heard a knock at her door.
“Come in,” Sweetie Belle said, looking up.
The door opened and in walked Spike. He looked around before closing the door behind him. “You wouldn’t believe how hard it was to get in here without Apple Bloom and Scootaloo dogging me the whole way,” he said.
“They still can’t get over that, out of all of us, it’s the fat one who gets a boyfriend first?” she asked with a grin, bookmarking her place.
Spike smiled, a blush growing on his face. “You’re so quick to say that,” he said.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” she said plainly. “You’re sweet on me, I’m sweet on you. You’ve been the most supportive of me this past week during this whole caper. If we’re not boyfriend-girlfriend at this point, then we’ve obviously wasted our time.” She blinked, her smile growing a mile wide. “And I can tell you’re hiding something behind your back. Flowers?”
Spike rolled his eyes and sighed playfully, removing from behind him a box of chocolates. “I helped Bon Bon make her best chocolates, and she gave me a discount, so...”
Sweetie Belle’s horn glowed and the box floated out of his hands and onto her nightstand. The lid was lifted off and set aside, revealing some of the most beautifully ornate chocolates she’d ever seen. These must have cost him hours to make, and an arm and a leg to buy.
Her eyes watered as she smiled at him, but she said nothing. Never needed to, really. With a twinkle of love and appreciation in those eyes Spike knew he’d always adore, Sweetie Belle lifted one of the chocolates and ate it.