Chapter 1 - Open Eyes and Little White Lies

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Spike stepped out of his bedroom and peered suspiciously down the hallway. He frowned as he noticed that the door to Twilight’s room was open, but none of the telltale signs of snoring or the scratch of quill on parchment were present to indicate she was in.

She had almost refused to go to bed the night before. He’d had to force her to her bedroom with the threat of not making her favorite spinach quiche for her upcoming birthday. If she wasn’t in her bedroom, she had either woken up before him, or had only waited in her room long enough for him to fall asleep and then snuck back downstairs to the study. Considering he’d been up with the sun, and when Twilight did actually take time to sleep she tended to zonk out for very extended periods, the latter seemed the most likely turn of events.

He looked up to the sheet of paper taped to the wall across from his bedroom and followed the little arrow drawn and labeled in his script. The note wasn’t written on the high grade parchment used in official forms or notes meant for archival storage, rather it was just a sheet of plain white paper torn off of a notepad that Spike had with him when the idea had struck. At the end of the hall he consulted another slip of paper and took a left. At the end of that hall a third note pointed him to the stairs on his right.

Even after four years of living in the crystal tree palace, those signs were still up. It had been embarrassing at first, having them plastered all over the walls, but it had been preferable to getting lost all the time in the halls of the overgrown tree fort. Applejack had joked once that the castle had more hallways than doorways, and in those early days, Spike would swear up and down his certainty that the halls were rearranging themselves. Twilight would point out that if that were true, then the navigation arrows would be worthless, which was a fair point… unless the palace was also changing the arrows on their notes…

In actuality the castle wasn’t all that large, compared to Canterlot Castle or the one in the Crystal Empire, but it was unfamiliar. After a few weeks, navigating the halls had become second nature and the signs were no longer needed, but in that time it had become a little joke between everypony that lived there or visited, that such an opulent monument to friendship and magic had cheap binder paper and poorly sketched arrows taped all over the walls. The homemade signs had become part of the décor – part of what made the drafty old castle their home – and despite their eventual familiarity with the layout of the building, they would always check the signs in passing, just in case a hallway had moved since the last time they’d looked.

Spike descended the staircase of the spire that housed his and Twilight’s bedrooms. He went down two floors and stepped out into another hallway. He walked straight until he reached the third door on his left: Twilight’s study.

The study was a bit bigger from the one in the old town library, but otherwise wasn’t much different. There were some shelves for her to store some of her favorite books and most frequently checked references, a small balcony where she kept her telescope, some cushions, a couple of chairs, and a large writing desk.

Twilight was seated on a padded bench and slumped over the desk with her back turned to him. She snored loudly as a thin trickle of drool stretched from the desk to the floor. It reminded him of a game that Pinkie and Dash had taught him many years ago, where the object was to see how far down you could make a glob of phlegm dangle from your mouth and slurp it up before it broke. It had been a lot of fun until one of his phlegm strings broke and burned a small hole in the floor of the library.

It had become a strictly ‘outside’ game from that point on by unanimous decision.

He clucked his tongue in quiet bemusement at her inability to put her own health before her duties as a princess. He went to the small closet in the corner and grabbed the old quilt he kept specifically for this sort of occasion. He wrapped her up as tightly as he could without waking her and slipped the moist parchment she had been writing on out from under her face. The bottom half of the ink was smeared, and likely all over her cheek, but he could tell that it was a list of changes she wanted to make to the Ponyville tax codes.

He took the damp scroll and laid it down flat with a paper weight at each corner, so she could salvage what she could of her work when she woke up. Then he picked a nice clean sheet of parchment and wrote a note for her in very large letters: “No Quiche!”

He left the note where she could see it when she awoke and headed back into the hall, closing the door behind himself. Not that he needed to close the door; it was only him and Twilight in the palace and the walls were thick enough to muffle most noise.

Spike followed his markers back to the stairs and down to the next level where the kitchen was. He scratched his head and looked around the enormous galley, wondering what he should make. Their kitchen wasn’t as impressive as the one in Canterlot Castle, but it was still several times too large for their daily needs. This was a kitchen fit for servants preparing meals for banquets entertaining foreign dignitaries and royalty, not for a little dragon making a couple of stacks of pancakes for him and his sister. It even had a set of those big double doors that restaurants had so that wait staff wouldn’t bump into one another as they shuffled between the banquet hall and the kitchen.

At least the cavernous kitchen was fairly modern. Spike had urged Twilight to have the castle wired for electric lights and a gas stove, but at first she wouldn’t hear of it, citing the need to preserve the palace’s historical integrity. In the end Spike’s point of view had won out with a simple question: “So how far away should we put the outhouse?”

Spike set about cooking a modest breakfast, which, as he always reminded himself, took a bit longer than it would have taken in their old home due to the size of the room.

Hash browns, eggs, pancakes, orange juice.

It was a simple meal for a simple pony, just the way Twilight liked it. The only plus side to cooking in the palace as opposed to their old home was that the walls were thick enough that Twilight rarely caught scent of a meal in mid-preparation. As heavy a sleeper as she was, the smell of food could always wake her, and she loved to poke her nose around in his kitchen while he was busy cooking.

With that in mind, Spike finished his preparations and put Twilight’s meal on a dumbwaiter. He pulled the chain slowly until a little bell dinged above his head, with a matching bell chiming above him in the study. He waited a few minutes, idly chewing on one of his hash browns, until the dumbwaiter began to descend. It reached the kitchen with a ding and he read the note she’d sent back thanking him for breakfast, with the added surprise of a happy face.

He flipped the note around and saw his own note about the quiche, with a freshly scrawled frowny face below it in Twilight’s script.

He laughed softly and put the note in a recycling bin with the others like it before sitting down for his own breakfast. He lumped all the food on his plate into huge pile and began digging in. Twilight hated it when he mixed everything together. She was one of those really prissy types that had to be sure that none of the foods were touching, and that everything was eaten in its proper order: first hash brown, then eggs, and finally pancakes.

“If you’re going to eat like that,” she would say, “why don’t we just get you a trough? Is that what you want? To eat out of a trough like one of Applejack’s truffle pigs?” At which point he, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, and AJ would all start oinking and laughing at her.

He finished eating and left his dishes in the sink for later. From the kitchen it was a short walk through the dining hall, back to the stairs, and down to the library on the ground floor.

Whatever ancient pony sorcerer, or force of magic, or whatever, had designed the magical seed that became Ponyville Palace had left one crucial design flaw: the library in the third-floor study had been way too small. To rectify this, Twilight immediately converted all the empty space in the palace lobby and entrance into a fully stocked library for public use.

The first floor still contained the Council of Friendship’s meeting room and the thrones for Twilight, himself, and their friends, but every other available inch of real estate was packed to the ceiling with bookshelves and reading areas. Despite Rainbow Dash’s accusations, Twilight’s choice to fill her new home with books wasn’t simply because of her own personal preference. The battle with Tirek hadn’t just destroyed their home; it had deprived Ponyville of free knowledge. Twilight had felt it was her responsibility as a princess to facilitate the freedom of learning for all of her ponies.

Between both of their recollections, Spike and Twilight had been able to restock their new library with an almost identical catalogue to the original, along with new acquisitions from the library of the Palace of the Two Sisters, since their new living arrangements had the shelf space to accommodate them. Of course, the really dangerous books from that collection were secured in an archive beneath the castle, along with some of Twilight’s more volatile research notes. It wouldn’t do to have somepony come to check out a book about growing carrots and ending up with a cursed romance novel that brought the murderously jealous wife to life, or a talking children’s book with a pervy mind and a thing for single moms.

While Spike’s most important duty was serving on the council as the group’s secretary, that wasn’t an every day occurrence outside of monthly official meetings. It was a small blessing, mostly owed to the lack of local nobility, that their tiny kingdom was nowhere near as busy as Canterlot or the Crystal Empire’s courts. Usually if a citizen needed an issue resolved that couldn’t be delegated to the mayor – who still handled most of the day to day business – they’d just wait to run into him or one of the girls on the council and it’d be handled informally.

Most work mornings for Spike began with him opening the front doors to signal to the citizens of Ponyville that their library was open for business, but as he descended the stairs and heard muttered curses and the clatter of books falling over, he knew that wouldn’t be necessary. He peeked around a bookshelf and found the source of the commotion: an orange coated filly with a violet colored mane and tail in a short, tomboyish style. She was standing behind the circulation desk that faced the entrance, her back to him as she leaned under it in search of something. Beside the girl was a half-toppled stack of the previous day’s book returns. Several similar towers were arranged behind the desk, encompassing a week’s worth of returns, waiting to be returned to their proper places.

Spike quietly maneuvered his way through the stacks and crept up behind the distracted filly. He picked up the largest book he could reach without disturbing the rest of the stack and let it drop to the desk with a bang.

Scootaloo yelped and jumped at the sudden noise that reverberated loudly in the cramped space beneath the desk. A matching bang resounded through the library as she smacked her head against the underside of the desk.

Spike flinched at the dull thud but managed to hold his poker face when she pulled out from under the desk to glare angrily at him. He stepped up on the small stool that elevated him to a little over chest height with the desk and pretended nothing had happened.

Once Scootaloo noticed it was Spike she let her anger melt away and rubbed at her head tenderly.

“Good morning, Scootaloo,” he greeted coolly as he pulled open a drawer and removed a rubber stamp. “The basket for the date stamps isn’t under there anymore; we’re keeping it in this drawer now.”

He flipped open the front cover of the book, made an adjustment to the date on the stamp, and marked the book slip as returned.

“Good mornin’ to you too, Spike,” she chuckled softly. “Nice prank, you got me.”

“Thanks, and thanks for opening the doors for me,” he said as he finished an inspection of the book and pushed it onto the returns cart to be shelved.

Scootaloo gathered the books she’d spilled earlier and lifted them onto the desk with a grunt. “Well, ya know, I was just in the neighborhood on my morning run and I figured I’d do you the favor,” she said dismissively. “Plus, it’s shelving day. Gotta get these books back on the shelves, right?”

A few months after opening the new library, Scootaloo had begun visiting regularly, trying to help Spike with his duties around the castle. Her first visit had been the result of the Cutie Mark Crusaders deciding to try their hooves at being librarians. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle had given up on the tedious task pretty quickly, but for some reason Scootaloo had stuck it out, even long after her Cutie Mark had finally appeared.

He’d talked to Rainbow Dash about it, and apparently Scootaloo had decided that Spike was cool enough to warrant her attention after the performance he’d put on at the Equestria Games. Kids seemed to think that enormous plumes of iceberg melting dragonfire were cool, for some reason.

She had become a fairly reliable assistant over the last few years, and usually stopped by at least once a week to help with shelving or just talk while he dusted the stacks and waited for visitors. Most ponies wouldn’t peg Scootaloo as the type to spend an entire day in a library, what with her sport-themed Cutie Mark and active lifestyle, but much like her hero Rainbow Dash, she had a soft spot for adventure novels with lots of action and cocky protagonists.

Scootaloo scanned the spines of the books around them, looking for anything that might catch her eye. She ruffled her wings lightly, readjusting them against her back. The act put a little grin on Spike’s face as he recalled all the time she’d spent worrying that her wings would never catch up with the rest of her.

“How’s the weather team training going?” Spike asked as he slowly worked his way through the books within reach of his stool. Shelving day always took an extra bit of work because it meant inspecting all the books for damage, just in case some housewife had carelessly let her novel fall into the bathtub or a foal had gotten peanut butter all over the pages. Of course most of the books were ones that Twilight had taken down and simply thrown in the return bin, but every book still needed to be checked, even if it didn’t need a stamp.

Scootaloo’s eyes lit up with barely contained pride. “It’s going awesomely, I can finally push around the clouds without popping them,” she gloated, smashing her hooves together with a grin. “The problem was just coming in with too much heat. All I had to do was add a little give when I made contact, and they were putty in my hooves!”

Spike held his stamp in mid strike and tilted his head, looking at the ceiling in thought.

“Do clouds feel like putty?” Spike wondered aloud.

“Not really,” she shrugged. “It’s more like they’re… bubble bath suds.”

“Sleeping on a bed of bubble bath suds sounds amazing,” Spike groaned.

“You better believe it,” she said, running her hoof along the tasseled fringe of the rug behind the circulation desk. “You’d be able to find out for yourself how it is if you ever grew these in.”

She lifted her head and prodded gently at his shoulder blade with a hoof, just to the left of the spines that ran along his back. He shivered slightly at the feeling of her clammy hoof against his scales. He glared down at her in a huff and she returned the look with one of her own that communicated just how amused she was.

“I’ll get them,” he grumbled. “One day…”

“You need to start hoarding,” Scootaloo said wisely. “Twilight said that’s what makes dragons grow. You’re supposed to be way bigger than you are, aren’t you?”

“I don’t hoard, everypony knows that,” he said simply and returned to his work.

“Just saying, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to do just a little bit of hoarding,” she explained. “Like maybe a couple bags of coins under your pillow or something. Then you’d be able to do this!”

She flapped her wings and lifted off the ground. As she took off, the downthrust of her wings slapped against one of the small towers of books and knocked it over.

“Oops,” Scootaloo muttered. She looked down at the books from where she hovered, slightly above Spike’s eye line, and sighed. “Just not my day, is it? Guess I’ve still got a long way to go before I’m as graceful as Rainbow Dash.”

Spike bit back the laughter that threatened to erupt from him at the idea of Rainbow Dash being anything resembling graceful at below cloud level.

“What?” she asked, frowning at the pained look on Spike’s face and the little choking noises coming from the back of his throat.

He shook his head and gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s nothing,” he said.

Scootaloo shrugged and touched down back to the floor. She gathered up her mess and piled a few more books onto the circulation desk. With a sigh she laid her head on the cool surface of the workstation while she waited for Spike to inspect the books. She looked up when she realized that Spike was staring at her.

“Seriously, what?” she asked, blushing slightly under his scrutiny.

“You’re tall enough to see over the desk now,” he said dumbly, pointing a claw at where she rested her chin against the desk.

She laughed nervously. “Well yeah, I have been for a while. Haven’t you noticed?”

“No,” he answered with a shake of his head. He stepped off his stool and held a hand over each of their heads, comparing their heights. “Wait, you’re taller than me now? When did this happen?”

“I don’t know,” she said, smirking. “I’m growing up, you dummy. I mean what have we been talking about the last few minutes?”

“What was even the point of growing that whole extra three inches if the shrimpiest pegasus in Ponyville is going to be taller than me?” he questioned with a defeated groan. Three inches of height in the five years since coming to Ponyville wasn’t much for a pony, but for a dragon that wasn’t quite sure what his non-hoarding growth rate was, that spurt had been a real triumph.

“Get over it,” she giggled. She gave him a light shove and flapped a wing against his face in a half-hearted attempt to blow him over.

Spike simmered a little, less at his mistreatment than at the outright glee the young girl gained from taunting him. He returned to his stool, and began checking books again. He opened a small paperback novel and ran the dull side of a claw against the pages, flipping through them rapidly as his eyes scanned for imperfections.

“If you’ve got so much energy why don’t you go ahead and start shelving the stuff on the cart,” he waved a hand at the cart without looking and nodded towards stacks. “Try not to knock any of the bookcases over.”

“Sure, I can get started on that, I know how much trouble you have getting to those high shelves,” she quipped, sticking out her tongue and flying over his head to push the cart away.

“What a jerk…” he muttered quietly. Despite his comment he wore a satisfied grin, as he always enjoyed the time he spent with Scootaloo. She may not have had the older mare’s cast-iron confidence, but Scootaloo was a lot more like Rainbow Dash than she’d ever realize.

“What was that?” she asked over her shoulder as she flew away.

“I said you’re a jerk!” he called back.

“Thank you!” she chirped happily.

* * *

Twilight stood on the balcony of her study and leaned heavily against the rail. She was still a bit drowsy from the sleep she’d lost, and there was a terrible crick in her neck from having fallen asleep over her desk again. She stood there for a while to enjoy the gentle breeze brushing against her coat. The little chill helped wake her and take some of the edge off the ache in her spine.

She looked out over her town and watched her ponies go about their business. The market was already in full swing, and from her perch she could almost hear the sound of bartering and the clink of bits rattling together. The wind carried the sound of hammers from the distance as construction workers put up the frame of what would eventually be the new state-sponsored theater that Pinkie Pie had insisted on building.

A few pegasi flew by the castle on official weather business and gave neighborly waves. She was their princess, but unless she wearing what Spike mockingly called her Princess Face, the ponies of Ponyville didn’t treat her any different than when she was their humble librarian.

“Good morning, my kingdom,” she greeted with a smile.

It was a common mistake to call Ponyville a kingdom, when in actuality it was more of a municipality or a city-state in association with the United Realms of Equestria. Most ponies didn’t care about the distinction, however, and just called it Ponyville Kingdom.

The inexactitude of calling her realm a kingdom had irked Twilight more than anything else when she’d gained a throne of her own. She’d even had Rarity organize an ad campaign and a street fair to bring awareness of the issue to both their subjects and Equestria at large. Despite months of campaigning, speeches, and proclamations to try and curb the rampant mislabeling, the convention had stuck and Twilight had found herself the ruler of a kingdom with no king.

She’d eventually come to accept it as a lost cause, especially since Celestia and Luna had both laughed and politely declined to join her little crusade. Equestria had always been referred to as a kingdom in conversation and record, and they saw no reason to change it.

Cadance had been no help either, and remained steadfast in calling her realm an empire despite the fact that it did not control any foreign lands through military, economic, or even cultural assimilation. Shining Armor had seemed interested in helping the cause by expanding their dominion and acquiring a few colonies, but Cadance had shot them both down with a glare. Even as an adult and equal member of Equestria’s tetrarchy, Twilight still felt like a bad little foal that ate too many cookies before dinner whenever Cadance gave her that reproachful glare.

Still, it always bought a smile to her face to remember all the fuss she’d made over what had gone down in the records as Ponyville’s first governmental boondoggle. Sometimes she’d still get a occasional polite ribbing from her subjects, usually something along the lines of an exaggerated bow and a greeting of, “Good afternoon, King Twilight.”

Things had smoothed out considerably since that time. Twilight was more familiar with her role as a princess, and the help of her friends and the guidance of the mayor had kept a considerable amount of pressure off her. It was with their help that she was able to hold on to her position as the head librarian of Ponyville, and no matter what she did as a princess, she knew that nothing would give her more joy than helping ponies discover the wonders of reading.

She turned back to the study and checked the clock sitting on her desk. It was still fairly early for visitors to the library, but Spike would no doubt still be in the midst of the shelving day flurry.

Twilight returned to her desk and gave her notes a quick once over before rolling the scroll up in her magical grip. She opened a drawer and selected a violet ribbon with her Cutie Mark emblazoned on it. The edges of the ribbon were dyed silver, indicating that the scroll was a pre-final draft proposal.

She levitated the ribbon-tied scroll behind herself and headed for the door.

“I think Spike and I both deserve the day off,” she announced to the now empty room as a final tweak of her magic shut off the desk lamp and closed the door behind herself.

Twilight walked downstairs to the library and immediately found Spike and Scootaloo in a heated discussion over the merits of peppermint candies.

“They’re sweet, bite-sized, and they sell them at candy stores,” Scootaloo argued. “It’s candy. Hooves down.”

“Only for old ponies,” Spike insisted. “For anypony else they’re just decoration. You put them in a dish next to the cashier at restaurants or on the pillows at a hotel. You’re not expected to actually eat them, they’re just for ambiance. You look down and you see a peppermint and you’re supposed to think ‘Oh, that’s fancy, this place is fancy.’”

Twilight cleared her throat loudly and stepped off the stairs with louder than necessary clip of her hooves on the hard crystal floor.

“Well it’s nice to see that the world-class education provided by Celestia and myself is being put to use on such stimulating topics,” she commented, her head tilted back in a show of smug superiority. “And for the record, I like to think I’m an excellent judge of candies and I love peppermints.”

Spike gave Scootaloo a pointed look. “See? I told you: old pony candy.”

“Spike!” Twilight shouted, maintaining her poise.

“What?” the dragon asked, feigning surprise at her reaction. “I’m not saying you’re old, I’m just saying you like the kind of stuff that old ponies like; like really thick sweaters and bingo.”

“Thick sweaters are comfortable in the winter, and bingo is serious business,” she retorted, tilting her head back a bit more to further look down her nose at him.

“That’s what an old pony would say,” Spike said with a nod.

Scootaloo ducked her head behind a wing and pretended to preen some of her feathers back into place, hoping that Twilight wouldn’t notice her sniggering.

“Just send this to the mayor, you wiseacre,” Twilight said as she bopped the little dragon on the forehead with the rolled up scroll in the way one might correct a dog’s behavior with a newspaper. “And don’t pretend that you’re not the one that eats all the candy canes off the tree every Hearth’s Warming Eve.”

“That’s an entirely different matter!” Spike declared as he snatched the scroll from the air. “Candy canes are peppermint, yes, but they’re not peppermints! Candy canes are festive, and I eat them purely in the spirit of the holiday. And by admitting that I’m not supposed to eat the ones on the tree you prove my point that they’re supposed to be decorative.”

“And you freely admit that they’re called candy canes. ‘Candy’ is right there in the name!”

“I never said they weren’t candies; just that they were more decoration than candy unless you were a very old pony with no teeth!”

“Guys, guys, I think we’re going to have to agree that both sides have their merits,” Scootaloo interjected quickly.

Spike and Twilight blinked, only just realizing that during their argument they’d slowly stalked closer to one another until they were glaring with their noses pressed together as they traded points. They backed away with dual blushes of embarrassment and agreed to table the discussion until they could get Pinkie Pie – Ponyville’s officially appointed Minister of Candy – to settle the matter once and for all.

Spike examined the scroll Twilight had brought down and frowned. “You’re already at pre-final draft? How much sleep did you actually get?”

“I got enough,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll go to bed extra early tonight, promise.”

He nodded to Twilight and sent the missive to the mayor with a tiny puff of fire. With age he’d gained more confidence and control over his fire. It hadn’t been long ago that sending a letter required taking a deep breath like he was blowing out the candles on a really big birthday cake – now he could conjure enough flame for a sending without even trying.

“How’s shelving going?” Twilight asked.

“Going great,” Scootaloo answered as she trotted up to the pair of siblings. “Spike’s just finished with the check ins and inspections, and now we’re just about halfway through getting it all back up.”

“Wow, that far already?” Twilight said, impressed. “You two make a great team.”

Spike reached up and gave her mane a tousle. “Of course we do, she’s my number one assistant.”

Scootaloo’s face flushed at the praise. She walked away quickly and hid her face behind a book from the cart, pretending to double check the date stamp.

“Well how about we take the day off then?” Twilight asked Spike.

“And by the day off you mean…?” Spike asked carefully. Considering the things Twilight thought were fun, that could mean either more, or much, much more work added to his plate.

“I mean you can go out and do some shopping or something and I’ll finish up the shelving,” she explained. “It’s been a while since I got the chance to just relax and spend a day with the books.”

Scootaloo’s ears perked at the suggestion that Spike take the day off for some personal time.

“Of course I wouldn’t mind a little help from my number one assistant’s number one assistant!”

Scootaloo’s ears folded back against her head, betraying her disappointment. Looking up from her book, she noticed the dopey, wide-mouthed grin that Spike wore.

“Y-yeah, sure,” she said, nodding vigorously. “If it means Spike gets the day off, I’m up for it.”

“You sure, Scoots?” he asked.

Scootaloo swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat and nodded again with twice the enthusiasm.

“Of course! I’d do anything for you, Spike! You work hard and you deserve a day off!”

Spike walked up to the young filly and gave her another affectionate mussing of her mane, not noticing the way she leaned into his hand. “Thanks a ton, Scootaloo! You’re a real pal.”

“Any ideas for what you’re going to do?” Scootaloo asked as Spike beat a quick retreat for the front door.

“Yeah, I’m going to head over to Rarity’s and see if she needs any help!” he called over his shoulder. “She’s leaving for some fashion tour thing in a few days so she’s been really busy.”

“Have fun!” Twilight shouted after him.

Twilight levitated a few books off the cart, floating them over Scootaloo’s head, and checked the titles as she walked deeper into the stacks. She began shelving, humming a little tune as she worked. Once she had properly returned whatever book she had, she simply levitated another without returning to the cart.

“He was supposed to take the day off…”

“What was that, Scootaloo?” Twilight asked. She stepped out from between two aisles and looked in the direction Scootaloo’s voice had come from. It had been very faint, but the relative silence had boosted the volume of her voice as it bounced off the cavernous crystal walls of the library.

Scootaloo was still standing next to the cart, where she’d been when Spike had left. Twilight trotted up to the filly, concern clear on her face at the odd behavior from the usually boisterous little pegasus.

“What’s wrong?” Twilight asked.

Scootaloo chewed at her lower lip restlessly, some sort of turmoil hidden behind those sharp eyes of hers.

“We just gave him the day off and he’s going to go spend it doing work for Rarity?” Scootaloo asked, her eyes never leaving the door.

“Trust me, Scootaloo, that is a day off for Spike,” Twilight reassured her. “He likes helping Rarity, always has.”

She wrapped a wing around the shorter girl and gave a little squeeze.

“Come on, let’s get a little bit more done and then we can have some lunch,” Twilight suggested.

Scootaloo nodded mutely and pulled a book off the cart. She checked the spine for name and subject and floated off to find its home.

Twilight frowned at the girl’s odd behavior. Scootaloo tended to be more energetic, and definitely more talkative. Something was bothering the filly, but she couldn’t quite place what it might be. She looked back to the front door and deepened her frown.

The wheels in Twilight’s brain began spinning, piecing together little bits of data about Scootaloo collected over the years and comparing them to the events of the day. Twilight’s mind was one of the greatest ever seen by ponykind; the equal to any scholar living or dead, up to and including Starswirl the Bearded. She toyed with the very fabric of reality as a hobby, had unraveled the secrets of magic, and about two years ago had even gotten really close to actually figuring out Pinkie Sense.

All of her mental acuity, her vast, nearly immeasurable intellect, came to a single definitive conclusion: “I’m an idiot…” she muttered as she pressed a hoof to her forehead sadly.

Scootaloo returned a moment later and chose another book from the cart. Twilight lifted a couple herself and followed after.

“So is there anything you want to talk about?” Twilight asked.

Scootaloo gave her an odd look, something Twilight couldn’t place but felt might have been something between annoyance and curiosity.

“I’m just realizing that you’ve been coming to help for so long and we really haven’t spent much time doing this together,” Twilight pointed out.

“We’ve done shelving day together,” Scootaloo stated coolly.

“But only when Spike was with us,” Twilight corrected. “In fact I don’t think you’ve come around just to see me since you’ve gotten your Cutie Mark. You usually come to hang out with Spike.”

Scootaloo flew to the top of a bookcase and shoved the rolling ladder aside to reach the empty spot on the shelf for the book in her arms. She dropped her altitude slightly and floated back towards the cart.

“So is there anything you want to talk about?” Twilight asked casually as she followed Scootaloo. “I mean we might be here a while, and you seem like you have something on your mind.”

Scootaloo rounded on Twilight quickly, the sides of her mouth turned down in a half-frown. “Aren’t you going to shelve those?” she asked, pointing at the pair of books still floating behind Twilight.

Twilight wordlessly brought the books to eye level to read the titles and sent them speeding away with a small burst of magic. She summoned two more books, which fell into place behind her, where they bobbed gently with an invisible breeze.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” Twilight told the girl. She felt the urge to go up and give the filly a hug, but knew that if she wanted Scootaloo to open up, she’d need to give her some space first.

Scootaloo huffed and turned back to the cart. She landed and nudged the cart further towards the back of the library with Twilight in pursuit.

“It’s just something Rainbow Dash and I talked about a couple of weeks ago,” Scootaloo said.

“Did you two have an argument?”

Scootaloo shook her head. “No, it’s… personal, though, so it’s hard to talk about. I didn’t even really want to talk about it with her, but you know how she can be.”

Twilight trotted ahead of the cart once Scootaloo had stopped. She gave the younger girl a gentle smile and an understanding nod. “I’m not going to push you anymore,” she informed Scootaloo, “but if you need another perspective, I’ve been told I’m kind of good at giving advice. I’ll always be here in whatever capacity you need me for, okay? I’m here as a teacher, as a princess, or as a friend – whatever you may need.”

Twilight checked her books and cracked a wide smile. She scanned the remaining books on the half empty cart and laughed airily.

“Look at that,” she said in amusement, “we’re already up to romance fiction. Never would’ve guessed you and Spike would get there so soon. It’s funny how things work out, huh?”

Twilight began to walk away, dragging her hooves slightly in anticipation of the inevitable.

“Wait…”

Twilight smiled to herself as she paused mid-step. She gave Scootaloo a quizzical look, waiting patiently for the girl to soldier on. Twilight knew that this was the point where Scootaloo would either spill the beans or retreat back into her shell, all she had to do was be silent and let Scootaloo make the first move.

“Can I ask you something?” Scootaloo asked tentatively after a few tense seconds.

Twilight nodded. “Anything.”

“Does Spike still like Rarity?”

Twilight scrunched up her nose, thinking carefully on how she should respond. Once she’d diagnosed Scootaloo’s problem, she’d run through several iterations on what this conversation might go like in her head. None of them had included a start from this angle. Love had always been Cadance’s wheelhouse, after all.

Twilight took a deep breath and realized that maybe it would be best to take a page from Spike’s playbook and just wing it as she went.

“Truthfully?”

Scootaloo nodded.

“I’m almost certain of it,” Twilight answered. “We’ve been in Ponyville for five years, and I’ve never seen any indication that he’s given up the hope that Rarity might see him as something more than a friend.”

Scootaloo’s shoulders went slack and her head drooped a bit seemingly in defeat. Twilight winced and chastised herself internally for being too frank with such a delicate subject. She was really bad at this winging it stuff.

“…well how does she feel about him?”

Twilight motioned with her wing for Scootaloo to follow her as she went to the romance section with her books.

“I know she thinks the world of him and that they’re great friends,” Twilight explained carefully, taking care to stress the word friend. “But I really don’t know if she has any deeper feelings than that.”

“Oh, okay…” Scootaloo muttered, letting the information sink in.

“You should talk to him about it,” Twilight advised. “Let him know you’re interested.”

The little pegasus sat at the end of the aisle, leaning heavily against a bookcase and feigning interest in one of the volumes on the shelf. Twilight had put everything together, and there was no more reason to hide it, but that didn’t make it any less embarrassing to talk about. The only other adult she could talk to about this sort of thing was Rainbow Dash, and her advice had been more unnerving than encouraging. Now she was getting similar advice from Twilight and it was becoming clear that there wouldn’t be an easy solution to her problem.

“That’s what Rainbow said,” Scootaloo sighed. “Only she said it more… loudly. She kept telling me that I need to come at this like a new flight trick: to just go headfirst at it with everything I’ve got and don’t give up until I’ve got it down.”

“The metaphor’s a little sporty for my taste,” Twilight assessed, “but it’s pretty sound advice. He’s never going to know how you feel unless you tell him. That little dragon of mine has got one heck of a brain, but it’s hidden deep down inside of a very, very thick skull.”

Despite her somber mood, Scootaloo managed to chuckle in agreement. “I’ll say. I’ve been testing the waters for a few months now and he hasn’t taken the bait at all. I was hoping he’d get the hint and I wouldn’t have to… I don’t know, take initiative or whatever. This is just really scary though. I never thought I’d say it, but Rainbow Dash is wrong – it’s not anything like tackling a new trick. If I bomb on a trick, the worst that happens is I spend a couple of weeks laid up and catching up on my reading, but if I mess this up…”

Scootaloo breathed deeply and held a hoof to her chest, tapping her breast just above her heart.

“If this goes South on me… then I think what breaks is going to take way longer than a bum wing to get better…”

Scootaloo felt a gentle touch on her shoulder and looked up into Twilight’s eyes. The older mare wore a gentle smile that somehow filled her entire face with love and understanding. It felt like a lifetime ago, but Scootaloo recognized it as the same patient, compassionate look that Twilight used to give her and the other two Cutie Mark Crusaders whenever they messed something up during Twilight Time.

“You’re right,” Twilight said soothingly. “That part of a pony is stronger than any other, but that means that when it breaks, it takes that much longer to heal.” Twilight leaned closer and moved her hoof down to press against Scootaloo’s. “But it will heal – I promise you – so don’t be afraid to try. With this sort of thing, the only way you can fail is if you never take the chance.”

Twilight rose back to her full height and grinned coyly. “But then again, who am I to say anything?” she said wink. “Everything I know about love I learned from books and lectures from my sister-in-law.”

Twilight cleared her throat and struck a regal pose.

“Twilight, listen up,” she began in a poor imitation of Cadance. “You need to start wearing make-up, and brushing your mane properly. Not just because you’re a princess, but because you’re a young, eligible, and beautiful mare. How do you expect to land a stallion without looking your very best? And following the Equestrian Dental Association’s guidelines regarding proper brushing techniques and schedules is well and good, but you also need to either start using mouthwash or stop drinking so much coffee!”

“Your breath does kind of smell like coffee,” Scootaloo giggled.

“I was up all night working!” Twilight said defensively.

Twilight’s protests only doubled Scootaloo’s amusement. She held her hooves over her mouth, giggling childishly. Her laughter began to die down though as she realized that Twilight was staring at her, smiling but with a spark of something in her eyes.

“Well, was it funny?” Twilight asked eagerly.

“Well I’m laughing, aren’t I?” Scootaloo answered incredulously.

“Oh good, I’m glad my joke went over well!” Twilight beamed proudly, clapping her hooves at her own accomplishment. “A few months ago I tried to tell a knock-knock joke to the mayor of Las Pegasus that Applejack said didn’t land. After that I read some books on standup comedy that I had Spike pick out for me. The books all agreed that self-deprecating humor and vocal mimicry are easy and almost never fail in an informal setting, so I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to try them out!”

Scootaloo rolled her eyes but refrained from mocking the bookish princess for treating humor like homework.

“Anyway, I’m gunna go for it,” Scootaloo announced with all the bravado she could muster. “But not today, I’ll do it tomorrow. I think I need to psych myself up for it first.”

“Why don’t you take off for now, then?” Twilight offered. “I can handle this myself. Maybe go hang out with your friends for a bit; relax a little.”

“You sure you’ll be okay?” the girl asked, tilting her head questioningly.

“Of course.”

Scootaloo turned to exit the library but pulled up short. In a flash she’d turned and wrapped her arms around the alicorn’s neck. Twilight returned the hug with enthusiasm.

“Thanks, Twilight,” Scootaloo whispered softly. “You’re the best.... Well, second best. Rainbow Dash is the best.”

Twilight chuckled and waved as the girl pulled away and galloped to the door. She went back to the cart and gathered a few books while she let her mind wander, lost in the meditative act of maintaining her library.

It had warmed her heart greatly to see Scootaloo was back to her energetic self; mopiness didn’t suit her at all. But lightening the filly’s burden had added to Twilight’s own worries.

Spike had always focused so intently on Rarity that it was difficult to imagine him turning all of that effort towards another relationship. Indeed, Twilight had never actually thought all that much about Spike’s love life. For so many years it had seemed a foregone conclusion that eventually either Spike or Rarity would make a move to end the… courtship wasn’t quite the word, and her vast vocabulary failed her to find something properly analogous to her little brother’s relationship with her friend. Regardless, she’d always assumed that something would happen and Rarity would be forced to make it clear that nothing would ever come of the affair.

But it had been years with that incident never coming to a head, and in that time the circumstances had continued to change. Spike had matured at a pace that nopony could have predicted; maybe not physically, but definitely emotionally and intellectually. Spike had always been very intelligent, if somewhat lazy in that way that unmotivated children could be, but with his rapid maturation came the patience and drive to truly delve into his studies. He still needed to be prompted to study, of course, but he no longer let his mind wander and could really buckle down and get it done.

It had been a pleasant surprise to Twilight to learn that a motivated, focused dragon could absorb knowledge very, very quickly. Spike had become an even greater asset to her studies, and a couple of the recent papers she’d submitted to scholarly journals even had his name as a co-author, rather than research assistant. Spike had tried to turn down the honor, but she had insisted that he receive proper credit for his contributions.

The fact that he would turn down honors of any kind had been markers of his personal growth. Spike had always been the type to get a swelled head over praise; their trips to the Crystal Empire, where he was still honored as a national hero, had proven that much. But now Spike seemed to be more aware that getting too full of himself was a weakness of his character, and though he sometimes still struggled with it, he at least made a conscious effort to curb his own behavior.

In short, Spike was of an age where it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that a grown mare might find aspects of his personality attractive. So the question was: what was Rarity’s opinion of him now?

If she wasn’t interested, why hadn’t she taken the initiative to let him down already?

Twilight sighed heavily. She’d always been content to let the situation sort itself out, but it hadn’t, and now a very nice young filly’s heart was on the line. If Spike refused to let go of his attraction to Rarity, then it might cost him the chance at a comparatively healthier relationship.

But was he even attracted to Scootaloo?

It occurred to Twilight that she knew very little of her little brother’s preferences when it came to what he looked for in a girl. All she knew was that he was attracted to Rarity, and Scootaloo was as far from Rarity as a mare could get in terms of disposition and habits.

“Too many variables...” Twilight muttered. “Don’t like it...”

Twilight knew that there was very little she could do in this situation, but that didn’t stop her from worrying. There were too many hearts on the line, and she cared about everypony involved. It bothered her to not only be powerless to help, but to also realize that she had so little information in regards to Rarity’s feelings on the matter. It made her feel like she’d failed some unspoken duty as an older sibling to not have been on top of a situation like this.

It would be too late to make any difference, but talking to Rarity would at least fill in the gaps in her knowledge – give her a clearer view of the whole picture.

* * *

It wasn’t very often that Spike got to have a decent lunch. Mid-afternoon tended to be a fairly busy time for the library, as ponies often stopped by on their own lunch breaks from work to browse the stacks for something to read at home. Because of that midday rush, Spike’s lunch tended to be a quick sandwich or a bowl of mixed gems, at best.

Happily, today the library was closed and he had time to make himself a great lunch. He looked over the counter at the smorgasbord he’d prepared for himself. It was a mix of breakfast, lunch, and dinner that spread out over the counter tops in quantities enough to feed several ponies in addition to himself; there would definitely be leftovers.

“Maybe I got a little carried away,” Spike mused.

He sat at his favorite stool near the end of the island at the center of the kitchen – he never ate alone in the cavernous dining room – and set about slaying the beast he’d created by grabbing a bit from each plate and mixing it all together into a single bowl. There was a clank of metal settling into place and a splash of water behind him, but he ignored it pointedly and focused on eating his spaghetti-waffle-stir fry-salad. He absolutely refused to even acknowledge the mountain of dishes he’d have to do later.

He propped a book open and read while he ate.

Late last night Twilight had said she wanted to begin a new research project; something about using high altitude lightning bursts as a conveyance point for the transmission of simple messages. It was vastly more complex than dragonfire transmission or scroll teleportation, but it would allow pegasi to set up an emergency communication network of their own.

Since there was pre-research research to be done, Spike had closed the library for a few days so he could familiarize himself with related literature and pre-existing research before they sat down to draft up a plan for serious experimentation. He didn’t know all that much about lightning, but by the end of their study he’d know everything there was to know about the stuff.

It wasn’t like Twilight to spring such an ambitious project on him so suddenly, but he had promised he’d be ready to begin assisting within two to three days, and he fully intended to cram a few weeks worth of study into those days.

“Whoa, what happened in here?”

Spike looked up from his book to find Scootaloo standing in the kitchen doorway.

“Were you expecting company?” she asked. “I sure hope whoever you’re cooking for offers to help you clean up all those dish—“

“We’re not talking about those,” Spike interrupted. “They don’t exist at this moment in time. They’re Future-Spike’s problem.”

Scootaloo cracked a smile and cantered into the room, letting the swinging door flap noisily behind her.

“You and your feud with Future-Spike,” Scootaloo laughed.

“He knows what he did,” Spike answered with a haughty sniff. He waved welcomingly over the spread. “You hungry? Have a seat and help me slay this leviathan I’ve created.”

Scootaloo sat opposite him and grabbed a bit of everything she could reach.

Spike continued reading while Scootaloo settled in. He knew it was rude, but he really needed to at least finish the last few pages of this dissertation on ball lightning before he lost his train of thought. He knew Scootaloo would understand; it wasn’t the first time she’d interrupted him studying.

The time ticked away as Spike ate his way through the book and his meal. Finally, he closed the book and rubbed blearily at his eyes.

“Why do these academic books always have such small print?” he groused.

“I saw the sign out front and almost didn’t come up. What’re you studying that you closed up the library?”

“Twilight sprung a new research project on me last night,” Spike sighed. He grabbed a toasted breadstick and used it to wipe up the last of the spaghetti sauce and ranch dressing from his bowl. “It’s really interesting stuff though, so I’m not too upset by it. Just wish she’d given me more time to prepare.”

“Oh, did you need me to leave?” she asked with a hint of disappointment in her voice.

“No, no,” Spike said firmly. “I always have time for a good friend like you, Scoots.”

He looked up and gave Scootaloo a smile. Her wings fluttered a bit at the compliment.

Spike narrowed his eyes and gave the filly a once over. Something about her seemed different. She seemed… less sweaty than usual. As a junior athlete, Scootaloo was always in training mode. Even when she came to visit at the library she was usually on her way to or from a workout of some kind. She was never dirty or smelly, but she did always have the disheveled look of somepony that spent a lot of time outdoors.

Today she looked like she was fresh from the shower. Her mane and tail looked groomed, and – he’d almost missed it over the smell of lunch – she smelled lightly of perfume. She leaned forward to take another bite and Spike saw a quick flash of pink in her violet mane.

“Is that one of Apple Bloom’s bows?” he asked quickly. He leaned forward and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Are you wearing makeup? Is that blush?”

“What!?” Scootaloo asked, coughing slightly as she attempted to clear her throat of the baked eggplant-omelet-potato chip-sandwich that had slipped down the wrong pipe with her outburst. She sipped some water and repeated herself. “What do you mean? Me, wearing blush? Are you crazy!?”

“But your cheeks are all pink,” Spike pointed out.

“Well maybe they’re pink because I’ve been running!” she countered hotly. “O-or maybe I’m just a sweet, pure little rosy-cheeked maiden!”

“A rosy-cheeked maiden?” Spike repeated, raising an eyebrow. “With eyeshadow?”

“Questions, questions, questions!” Scootaloo barked mockingly. “What’s with all these questions? Am I on trial? Maybe I’m the one that should be asking the questions around here, bub!”

Spike scratched his head in confusion. This was certainly turning into a very odd day.

“What kind of questions?” he asked.

“L-like… like do you like me!?” she managed to sputter out, her cheeks glowing with a natural flush that outshined the rouge that Sweetie Belle had helped her apply. It hadn’t been easy telling them what she’d planned to do, and they’d been plenty upset that she’d kept it a secret so long, but they’d really come through for her in helping get ready for this.

“Of course I like you, Scoots,” Spike said dumbly, not getting her meaning. “You’re one of my best friends.”

“No, you dumdum!” Scootaloo shouted, slamming a hoof on the counter as she stood on her stool and leaned towards him.

She closed her eyes tightly as though bracing for a blow and took a breath. She was crossing the point of no return and she’d already said it out loud, all she had to do was make it perfectly clear to him.

“I mean do you like me, Spike?” she asked again, timidly. “Do you like me as a girl?”

* * *

“I’m so very glad you stopped by today, Twilight,” Rarity said to the alicorn across the table from her. “Things have been so hectic with my impending trip. I’ve been an absolute bundle of nerves, I tell you. A visit from a good friend is exactly what the doctor called for.”

Twilight smiled in response and adjusted the sun umbrella at their table. The waitress arrived with their drinks and served them quietly before shuffling off to see to the rest of their patrons.

Rarity and her friends were regulars at this particular café, since it was so close to the Carousel Boutique, so their usual orders had already been placed and added to their running tab by the time they’d found a place to sit. It was lunch so only outdoor tables were available, but that suited Twilight fine – the outdoor seating was less cluttered and afforded a bit of privacy for the discussion she intended to have with her friend.

“I was positively drowning in last minute work, getting my line ready for the fashion tour,” Rarity testified as she sipped gingerly at her tea.

Twilight nodded, half listening and staring intently at her cup of coffee as she levitated a spoonful of sugar into it.

“I simply would not have been ready in time on my own, but then of course Spike galloped to my rescue, yet again,” Rarity sighed happily. “That dragon… I swear he’s pulled me out of the fire more times than I can count. I dare say that at this point he could probably make a fair living as a designer himself.”

Twilight’s ears twitched at Spike’s name but she continued to stir sugar into her coffee. She hummed in response to whatever Rarity was going on about to buy herself some more time to think.

“And once we were done with the dresses, he finally grew his wings and fought off ten thousand diamond dogs, each riding a timberwolf, all to protect the secret of Celestia’s biscuit recipe,” Rarity continued.

“He does that,” Twilight muttered, adding lifting the spoon and sending it back to the bowl for more sugar.

“And then he and I officiated the wedding between Apple Bloom and Fluttershy,” Rarity said dreamily. “It was a lovely ceremony, so sorry you couldn’t be there.”

“Me too,” Twilight muttered. The sound of something tinkling filled the air and drew her eyes towards the sugar bowl. Her tea spoon danced and jangled against the empty glass bowl as it frantically searched for more sugar. “Where’d the sugar go?”

Rarity cleared her throat, catching Twilight’s attention. She pointed a hoof knowingly at Twilight’s cup.

Twilight looked back to her coffee and grimaced at the sight. The once dark brown liquid was now milky white from the amount of sugar dumped into it.

“Twilight, darling, you’ve been sitting there staring into your cup for almost ten minutes. The waitress has already been by twice to ask for our lunch orders. If there’s something amiss please just tell me what it is,” Rarity implored her. She leaned forward and gazed seriously at Twilight. “It’s not official business, is it? Should we be discussing this with the others?”

Had she really zoned out that long?

Twilight quickly shook her head. It was now or never.

“No, no end of the world stuff,” Twilight sighed. “It's nothing to get the girls involved in. I came here to talk to you specifically. It’s about Spike.”

“Is there something wrong with my Spikey?” Rarity asked quickly.

“No,” Twilight answered immediately. “He’s fine, it’s just…”

“Oh, come on, Twilight, out with it,” Rarity snapped. “You’re scaring me.”

Twilight sat up straight in her seat.

“I need to know what you think about Spike.”

Rarity blinked. “Well I think the world of him,” she answered. “What an odd thing to ask.”

Twilight sighed. She knew that Scootaloo was probably at the library at this very moment talking to Spike, and she wondered if the filly was having this much trouble getting through to Spike.

“I mean, what do you think of him as…” Twilight tapped a hoof against the table distractedly, looking for the right word, “…as a male?”

“A… a male…?”

“Yes, as a potential romantic interest, Rarity,” Twilight expounded.

Rarity’s eyes darted around, checking to make sure no one was overhearing them. A lump rose in her throat and she tried to swallow it down, but the dryness in her mouth made it impossible. She levitated her cup of tea up to her lips and took quick little sips to try and remoisten her throat.

“So we’re finally having this conversation, are we?” Rarity exhaled.

“It’s a simple question,” Twilight pointed out.

“No, no it isn’t,” Rarity said with a shake of her head. “It’s very, very complicated.”

Twilight crossed her arms over her chest and held her ground.

“Uncomplicate it for me.”

“That easy, is it?” Rarity grumbled. “When I met him he was thirteen years old and he still sucked his claw in his sleep.”

“And now he’s eighteen and he’s getting recognition from the academic community as a serious scholar,” Twilight pointed out. “Ponies may not know much about the way dragons grow, but you and I both know that Spike is not the same dragon he was five years ago. What you thought of him back then has no bearing on what you think of him now.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Twilight.” Rarity brusquely tapped her hoof against the table, rattling the dishes a bit as she used more force than she intended. “No matter how much he matures, no matter how quickly he does so, he’s always going to be the little brother of one of my best friends. I’m hardly the first mare to be the object of a friend’s brother’s first boyhood crush – nothing ever comes of it.”

“You’re still dodging the question,” Twilight said, slowly growing impatient. “Shove aside all of that baggage about the differences in your ages, or his first impression, or whatever is your real hang-up here. How do you really, deep down, feel about him? Do you have romantic feelings? From the way you’re acting I have a pretty good idea, but I want to hear it from you. I want to hear you say it out loud.”

“Why now?” Rarity asked icily. “Answer that first. Why so suddenly demand this of me after all these years?”

“Because the situation has changed,” Twilight answered.

“In what way?”

“Somepony approached me yesterday and asked me what I thought of your relationship with Spike.”

Rarity raised an eyebrow curiously. “And this pony wanted to know because…?”

“Because she wanted to know if she had a shot with him,” Twilight said flatly.

Rarity flinched as though Twilight had struck her.

“S-so… somepony is interested in him…?” she asked timidly.

Twilight nodded. “I won’t say who, because she told me in confidence, but she was worried that his feelings for you might get in the way of her confession. She asked if I knew anything about how you felt, and I honestly didn’t, and that bothers me.”

Twilight leaned forward, and the intensity of her glare made Rarity shrink back just a little.

“He’s my little brother,” Twilight stated simply. “I worry about him, and it really bugs me that I hadn’t asked this sooner. I’m not pushing you one way or the other… all I care about is the truth. The truth is all that matters.”

Rarity cast her eyes downward, unable to meet Twilight’s eyes a second longer. She quietly chewed the inside of her cheek in a most unladylike way; it was a bad habit she’d picked up somewhere but it helped her think.

Twilight sat back and gave her friend a few moments to compose herself. Rarity, it seemed, did have feelings for Spike, but they were buried under a mountain of neurosis and doubts. At least this complication could potentially resolve itself in the end. Rarity was deeply shaken by the news that somepony else wanted to put her chips on the table, so to speak.

Somepony was going to get hurt here, guaranteed. But even if Spike chose to turn down Scootaloo and continue his pursuit of Rarity, it wouldn’t be a wasted effort. By confronting Rarity on the issue, Twilight had forced her to come to grips with her own feelings. With luck, she would be receptive of his overtures from this point on.

“I never meant to be, but I’ve been very cruel to him…” Rarity whispered after a few minutes of quiet reflection.

Twilight remained silent.

Rarity jumped to her hooves and backed away from the table.

“If Spike asks you, tell him that he never had a chance with me,” she declared as she turned and began trotting back to the boutique.

Twilight blinked. She hadn’t been expecting that.

“Wait!” she called, managing to halt her friend as she walked away. “Rarity, I know you don’t mean that. I could see it in your face when I mentioned another mare: you do like him.”

“It doesn’t matter how I feel, Twilight,” she replied, keeping her back to her friend. “I’m making a choice, and that choice is to let him go. It’s for the best.”

“So then I should lie to him?” Twilight inquired. “I should lie right to his face if he asks me? Or if he comes straight to you, you’ll lie to him?”

Rarity looked back over her shoulder. Her face was a mask of emotionless stone, but the façade was broken by the streaks of eyeliner running down her cheeks.

“You’re a very smart mare, Twilight Sparkle… but let me tell you something you might not know: there are more important things than the truth. It’s a lady’s prerogative to tell any little white lie she has to if it protects the heart of a good stallion – and that goes double for dragons, as far as I’m concerned.”

With that said, Rarity galloped home and didn’t stop until she was alone in her room with the door locked and shades drawn.

* * *

Scootaloo had just asked him if he liked her.

Liked her as a girl… like, like liked her?

Like date like?

Romance like?

“Spike?”

She was talking to him.

Her mouth was moving and there were words coming out of it and they were directed at him.

“One minute, please,” Spike asked politely. He put his elbows on the counter and held his hands over his face. He huffed deeply, noting that his hands still smelled like the dressing for his salad. That was a good, familiar scent, something to grip onto.

He risked a peek between his claws. Scootaloo was still standing there, atop her stool and leaning towards him over the counter, staring expectantly at him. She hadn’t moved an inch but somehow it felt as if she were gradually getting closer, bearing down on him.

He lowered his hands and nodded.

“So…” he began deliberately. “I’m going to guess that means you like me.”

Scootaloo nodded slowly as she sat back down stiffly.

“How long has this been going on?” Spike asked.

“About a year,” Scootaloo answered. “Maybe a little less.”

“Can we go downstairs into the library?” Spike asked very suddenly. “I think I’d be more comfortable in the library.”

He got up without waiting for an answer and exited.

Scootaloo gaped as the object of her affections strode out of the room at a pace just below a mild jog. She glanced around at the mess they’d left and shrugged.

Spike concentrated on the sound of his feet hitting the floor as he plodded through the stairwell and descended to the ground floor. Scootaloo caught up to him and the sound of her hoofsteps echoed behind him. He doubled his focus on the sound of his own steps, trying to selectively drown out hers.

It would be much easier to think if it didn’t feel like she was watching him.

At the base of the stairs he made a beeline for the large reading area where he could hide amongst the cushions. This section of the library was further back, nearer to the throne room, and meant to be a quiet, private area for groups to study and discuss their reading. The library was closed so there was very little chance that anypony would interrupt them, but the idea that they were in a place meant to be comfortable and relatively private made Spike feel more secure.

“It was a really bad idea to tell you, wasn’t it?” Scootaloo sighed sadly.

Spike turned and almost whimpered in sympathy at the look of dejection in the girl’s eyes. She wasn’t crying, but she seemed right on the edge of it.

“Look I’m just really surprised,” Spike explained. “I’ve never thought about you like that before, and it was really sudden and I’m… I’m not used to girls giving me that kind of attention.”

“You mean you’re not used to noticing it,” Scootaloo groused.

“That either, I guess,” he admitted. “Is this why you’re always coming over to help out?”

“Me coming to hang out started way before I started to like-like you,” she explained. She walked to the cushions, nudging him with her shoulder as she passed, and plopped down roughly on an extra plump blue one. A little white tuft of cotton puffed up from a tear in the fabric as her rump made contact.

“Way back when we all went to the Crystal Empire for the Games,” Scootaloo began, “I really didn’t think all that much of you. I mean you were an okay guy; nice, but kind of a doormat. But then when that big iceberg almost crushed the stadium and everypony was freaking out, you jumped up and took charge.”

Scootaloo’s wings flared and she began to gesticulate wildly with her arms, her confidence returning and voice rising as she recalled the excitement of that day.

“You were like wooosh, and fwoomp, and pakow! The way you used all those pegasi as platforms was mega cool, and then you blew that big pillar of fire and melted the whole thing! It was so flippin’ awesome! I had no idea that such a little guy could have something like that in him!

“It was inspiring. Like the first time I ever saw Rainbow Dash fly. I was really impressed, and I wanted to hang out with you. You’re kind of thickheaded, so I don’t know if you noticed, but when I was younger I was kind of into the hero-worship thing. I guess what you did that day really stuck with me because I know what it’s like to be a runt… You’ve said it yourself: I am the shrimpiest pegasus in Ponyville.”

Spike opened his mouth to protest that statement, but was silenced by a shake of the girl’s head.

“It’s fine,” she assured him. “Shrimp or not, I’m still the second fastest pony in Equestria. Anyway, the shine kind of wore off on the hero-worship thing after a while, but I still found myself wanting to come hang out here. I had fun with you, and I actually really did start getting into reading, so there were worse ways to spend my free time than hanging out in a library with somepony that could make me laugh and always had great stories.”

“What changed though?” Spike asked. He pulled one of the cushions closer to Scootaloo’s and sat down. “What made you start seeing me as something else?”

Scootaloo cracked a smile and actually laughed at the question, as though the answer were obvious.

“I grew up, dummy!” she tittered. “We all did. One day I woke up and it seemed like all Sweetie and Bloom wanted to talk about was boys. ‘He’s cute’ this and ‘But he’s cuter’ that. I never saw the big deal about guys though, I always just kind of tuned out the girly chatter. Everypony kept saying I was a late bloomer, or whatever, but it wasn’t that I couldn’t appreciate if a stallion was hot or not; the problem was that none of them were really interesting. Then after a while of not finding any colts that impressed me, I started thinking I might be into fillies. I cornered my friend Piña Colada at a slumber party and Prenched her a little bit, since I always thought she was cute, but it didn’t do anything for me either, so I checked that off the list.”

Spike’s jaw dropped at the idea of his friend, cute little Scootaloo, locking lips with another filly. This day just kept on getting weirder and weirder.

“Then the more I thought about it, the more I realized that all the stuff my friends were saying they liked about stallions were things I liked about you,” Scootaloo sighed. She pointed in the direction of the Psychology shelves. “I even secretly borrowed a couple of books, since I knew how to check things in and out myself, to look up something I’d read in one of Sweetie’s girly magazines that looked like it applied: ‘attraction by familiarity’. Kind of eggheady of me, huh?”

“That’s really admirable that you’d take the initiative to research a personal problem like that,” Spike complimented.

“You would think that, you egghead,” she laughed. “I could barely read the books anyway. It was a lot of double talk and fancy stuff just to say that spending a lot of time with somepony makes you more comfortable around them, and that that comfort could eventually lead to attraction. And that is pretty much what happened: we were friends, then we were better friends, and eventually I… kind of started wondering what it’d be like if we were even better friends… and the more I thought about that the more it made my heart race…”

Spike held his hands in his lap and twiddled his thumbs. This whole thing was going so quickly. Yesterday Scootaloo had been his little buddy, a filly that he’d seen get her Cutie Mark. He and Rarity had helped her pick out a dress for her first school dance. It was strange to think of her as a grown mare, and one that was attracted to him at that.

But they weren’t really that far apart in ages. Three years wasn’t much, and she was the age that ponies were considered grown enough to start being considered adults. She had always just seemed so much younger to him because of how much time he spent around Twilight and the girls; his usual group of friends tended to be so much older.

It was difficult to see himself in a relationship with Scootaloo. It was difficult to see himself in a relationship with anypony that wasn’t Rarity, for that matter. But Rarity knew how he felt, had known for years. No matter how fervently he denied and ignored it, the fact was that he wasn’t getting anywhere with the older mare, and there was a very real chance that he never would.

The bottom fell out of his stomach at that thought.

“Your face looks like how I felt the day that my flight camp instructor shoved me off a cloud and shouted ‘dodge the lightning bolts’,” Scootaloo mused.

“I’m sorry, it’s just a lot to think about…” Spike explained. “I think I need some time.”

Scootaloo got up to leave but was stopped by Spike’s hand on her shoulder.

“I mean it,” he said softly. “I’m not saying yes right now, but please don’t think I’m saying no. I just need time.”

Scootaloo opened her mouth, the urge to shout “You mean time to think about Rarity!” was powerful, but she wrestled it down back into the dark, jealous place in the pit of her stomach.

She nodded weakly and gave a watery smile.

“All the time you need, okay?” she told him.

* * *

Twilight stepped into the library, noting that she felt none of the usual cheer that filled her heart whenever she looked upon her books. The room was brightly lit by the sun pouring in through the enormous stained glass windows, but the air felt heavy, somehow diminishing the quality of the light and making the room seem so much darker.

She had passed Scootaloo on the street on her way back from the café. The little filly had primped herself up in the hopes of impressing Spike, but the look on her face spoke volumes about how well the confession had gone. Twilight had tried to stop her, to ask what had happened and maybe comfort the girl.

Scootaloo responded with a shake of her head and a humorless chuckle. “Ball’s in his court,” was all she would say on the matter. At least she hadn’t been crying.

All that was left was to find Spike and see if he would be more willing to talk.

Twilight shut and locked the door behind herself as she entered. Their door was never locked, but she didn’t want any disruptions today. She made for the staircase, deciding that his bedroom would be the most likely place to find him. Something gave her pause, however, and she decided to head further into the library, towards the back, near the throne room.

The reading area was simple: a few plush cushions, some low tables, a couple of couches, and a large rug that Twilight used when she and Spike read storybooks to children on the weekends. Every seating area was segregated with a bit of distance, so that study groups could have discussions without disturbing one another. It was all very neat and well thought out.

At least it had been.

The juice stained rug was barely visible beneath a mountain of cushions. Spike had gathered every cushion and pillow in the reading area, including the ones from the couches, and piled them on the rug. He lay on his stomach, face down atop the fluffy mountain in a very dragonish manner – as though he were resting on a hoard of gold and riches.

“You look comfy,” Twilight said, hoping that chapter fourteen of Courtly Quips: Twenty Techniques for Snappy Openers would help her break the ice.

“I need these,” Spike told her, his voice muffled as he answered into a pillow. “All of them. I need their comfort.”

Twilight climbed the cushion mountain and had a seat next to Spike. She began to gently stroke his back the way she had whenever he’d get a tummy ache as a baby. It had certainly been a long time, and despite the circumstances, she found herself enjoying the familiar feel of his back scales under her hoof.

He rolled his head to the side and looked up at her.

“We’re not really starting a new research project, are we?”

She shrugged. “Not right now,” she admitted. “But I do want to get to this one eventually.”

“So then you just wanted an excuse to close up the library, so that Scootaloo and I would be alone?” He received a nod and sighed. “How long have you known?”

“Only since yesterday,” she answered. She increased the pressure on his back, upgrading the motherly caress to a light massage to work out a knot she could feel in his lower back. “I think she really does like you.”

Spike groaned, but whether it was from being reminded of Scootaloo’s feelings or from the massage, Twilight wasn’t sure. They lay that way for a while: Spike chewing his lip in thought while Twilight wordlessly comforted him.

“Rarity knows I’m in love with her, you know.”

Twilight hummed affirmatively and stopped the massage. She replaced her hoof with a wing, hugging him as she lowered herself to his side.

“She still hasn’t done anything about it…” Spike said. “I know she knows, so there’s nothing else I can do aside from saying it right to her face and demanding that she be straight with me… I’ve been thinking for a while that if she was ever going to accept my feelings, she’d have done it by now. At this point I’m pretty sure… that it’s not going to happen.”

Twilight’s heart broke just a bit as she heard the brief crack in Spike’s voice at the admission, but she remained silent.

“You’re being very quiet,” Spike pointed out.

“I’m just listening,” she explained.

“Well right now I need more than a sympathetic ear,” he told her. “I need your opinion. Do you think I had a chance with Rarity? Or was it always a waste of time?”

Twilight’s heart seized in her chest. She looked away so Spike wouldn’t be able to see the conflict in her eyes. She’d told Rarity that the only thing that mattered was the truth, but Rarity’s parting words had followed her all the way home, buzzing in her ear like an angry hornet.

Rarity had made her choice, and she’d chosen to do a noble thing. Did Twilight have the right to take away the gift that she was offering Spike? If she told Spike what she’d gleaned from her talk with Rarity back at the café, he would of course run straight to her, and any hope for Scootaloo’s happiness would be crushed. And Rarity might see fit to continue to deny her feelings, which would lead to a rejection, and only cause more heartache for everypony.

In that moment she decided there was something to be said about a coward’s wisdom, and she took the middle road.

“I don’t know,” she lied.

Spike accepted her words as truth and wiggled himself deeper into his pillow hoard.

“Think I should go see Rarity?” he asked.

“I don’t think so,” Twilight answered… truthfully. She decided to try and get off the topic of Rarity’s feelings. “So how do you feel about Scootaloo?”

Spike shrugged. “I like her, but do I like her the way she wants me to…? I’ve no idea. I’ve been running the idea through my head and every pass of it makes it more and more appealing, but I don’t want to rush into this.”

“Do you think she’s cuuuuute~?” Twilight teased with a grin.

Spike returned the smile at the obvious attempt to raise his spirits and nodded. “Yes, she’s very, very cute. I could totally see myself dating her, but when she asked me how I felt…”

Twilight nudged him with her shoulder encouragingly.

“It made me think of Rarity, and it was kind of a moment of clarity where I realized that things between me and her weren’t progressing. Admitting that to myself hurt – hurt bad enough that I almost wanted to say yes to Scootaloo just in the hopes that it’d take my mind off of Rarity, and that’s not fair to Scoots at all.”

“So you told her you needed space,” Twilight surmised. Scootaloo’s comment about the ball being in Spike’s court made a bit more sense. “That was the right decision, I think.”

“Yeah... now I just have to go lock myself up in my room for a few days until I get this stupid emotional stuff sorted,” he laughed.

“You can’t spend all that time in your room,” Twilight chided him.

“Well, Rarity’s leaving for her fashion tour tomorrow, but Scootaloo’s still going to be here,” Spike pointed out. “I don’t want to run into her until I’ve got something to say to her.”

Twilight stroked her chin thoughtfully.

“Maybe you could visit Canterlot for a few days,” Twilight suggested. “Just get out of town altogether. It has been a while since you’ve had a vacation.”

“I need time to myself,” Spike sighed. “Going from one castle to another doesn’t really count as a vacation, since I’ll probably have to dine with nobles.”

Twilight scrunched up her nose. “Did mom ever get the hang of the Dragonfire Sending spell?”

”We are not telling mom!” Spike declared as he sat up to stare at his sister in panic. “I’ve got enough to deal with without mom coming here to measure Scootaloo’s hips to see if they’re regulation birthing width or whatever else she might do!”

“Oh Celestia, no!” Twilight exclaimed. “I’m just asking if she’s learned how to send you letters yet!”

“Yeah, she has,” Spike answered, his voice thick with suspicion. “She keeps putting stamps on all the letters she sends but they get to me alright.”

“Well her and dad are on a cruise, yes?” Twilight explicated. “The house is all by itself and we’ve got a spare key. You could tell them that you’re going to be in Canterlot on official business for a few days and ask if you can stay in the house.”

“That… could actually work out…” Spike surmised. “Yeah that sounds good. I’ll go do that right now.”

Spike got up from his seat and gave Twilight a hug before heading upstairs.

“If there’s anything else I can do to help, let me know, Spike,” she shouted after him.

He paused at the base of the stairs and raised an eyebrow at her.

“Would you mind doing the dishes?” he asked innocently. “Scootaloo kind of interrupted me during lunch so I didn’t get around to doing them… there’s even some leftovers if you want them.”

“Of course, Spike,” she said with a grin. “That sounds like a plan.”

“Thanks, Twi, you’re always looking out for me,” he said. “And thanks for being up front with me about Rarity. I can always trust you to give me a straight answer.”

If Spike had waited a moment longer before climbing the stairs, he would have seen Twilight’s happy expression shatter and fall away.

All she could do was hope that Rarity had been right about the importance of little white lies.

* * *

Chapter 2 - Shock, Then Blah

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A thousand years ago, following the banishing of Nightmare Moon, Celestia found herself alone in the castle built by herself and Luna. The way Celestia explained it, the ruins of the castle were too great a reminder of what she’d lost in the battle with her sister, and she immediately abandoned it.

She decided to begin anew atop a nearby mountain range, rich with streams and waterfalls, which would provide fresh water for her new capital. Over the decades, the mountain’s natural plateaus and cliffs were expanded using powerful unicorn and earthpony magic, allowing the city built around the newly founded Canterlot Castle to steadily grow until it was one of the finest the world had ever seen.

Unlike newer cities like Las Pegasus or Manehattan, or highly progressive towns like Ponyville, Canterlot wasn’t what one would consider a city of change – Spike always figured this was part and parcel with being ruled by a two-thousand year old immortal. In the thousand years since its founding, the general architecture and city plan hadn’t undergone much alteration. Aside from a few extra buttresses on the buildings, or an additional flourish of paint or sculpture, the city was virtually indistinguishable from how it looked centuries ago. Even newly erected buildings in the outlying districts tended to adhere – at least loosely – to the aesthetics of the past.

Predictably, the closer one got to Canterlot Castle, the more pronounced the lack of change was. The nobles that lived in the Upper District clung to their roots: the bloodlines going back to the great leaders and founders of Unification Era Equestria. While the majority of the city was pristine and well cared for, it was fashionable for the nobles to let their homes show a bit of wear to signify their age, as though their houses were so much older and more respectable than those of commoners. In the Upper District every house was more like the rest than the last, with only one exception.

Spike’s parents’ house was a three-story wooden cottage amidst block after block of white marble and granite. The vibrantly colored canary yellow and cobalt blue exterior clashed terribly with every surrounding house, and no other building in the district had anything like the massive domed roof that housed the small observatory his dad used when he brought work home.

Night Light had earned the position of Royal Astronomer at a rather young age, and had declined the offer to use the private dormitories at the observatory, in order to find a more comfortable place for his growing family. Celestia had been kind enough to grant him a small plot of land in the Upper District, which had gone unused for generations aside from housing an old stone bench.

The nobles had been none too pleased to see a commoner receiving such a boon and protested it in the only way they understood: whining and silly committee actions.

The Canterlot Historical Preservation Society had petitioned numerous times to halt the building of the new home, in a misguided attempt to curb what they no doubt believed would be the ignition point for a full invasion by the hoi polloi rising as one from their ghettos. When their political maneuvering failed, they resorted to civil disobedience. Five of the stuffiest, snootiest ponies the Noble’s Court had ever seen, had chained themselves to the old bench on behalf of their Society, holding picket signs bearing slogans like “Save The Bench!” and “Don’t Sit On Me!”

The construction machinery and building crews had gathered around the chanting bourgeoisie at a loss for how to proceed. Finally, the forestallion had had enough and trotted right up to the group, placed a hoof on the bench, and mashed it to gravel with an impressive display of earthpony strength. The sight of the dumbfounded nobles had been so funny that the story had made all the papers, and Night Light still had a framed copy of the front page article hanging in his office. He had made sure to point at it and proudly regale his children with the tale every time they visited him at work.

Eventually the nobles calmed down, and once the house was up and their family had moved in, nopony made any waves about it. Night Light had often said that the nobles involved were all still smarting from the public lampooning they’d received after their little stunt with the sit-in. It also helped that he had the full backing of not only the princess, but the entire Equestrian academic community. As Royal Astronomer, the measurements and calculations that Night Light published annually were used in nearly every field of advanced magical research and spellcraft.

Overhead, Celestia slowly lowered the sun and Spike hummed as he walked the familiar streets of Canterlot under the cool curtain of the approaching night. The ponies may not have been as friendly as they were back in Ponyville, but it was still good to be home.

He stepped up to the front door of the house and opened his duffle bag, which contained a few odds and ends, some writing supplies, and a set of formal clothes in case he wasn’t able to get out of dinner at the castle. He rummaged around until he found the spare key his parents had given them in case of emergencies.

Spike stepped inside and flipped a wall switch, lighting up the electric fixtures that ran along the hallway and into the living room.

“I’m home,” he announced to the empty house with a grin.

The home, like Twilight Velvet and Night Light themselves, was simple and comfortable.

The furniture was plain and just a bit ratty with use, and if you flipped the cushions you were certain to find the faded remnants of chocolate ice cream stains or stitches where somepony was careless with a horn or claw. The seats were still springy, though, and that was all that mattered.

Spike set down his bag and walked over to Night Light’s high-backed smoking chair, which was positioned in the coveted spot closest to the fireplace. He ran his claws fondly over the large black splotch of charred fabric on one arm, which guests often assumed came from a stray ember from the hearth or from the occupant falling asleep with a lit pipe. Nopony ever suspected the blemish was the result of a tussle between an overexcited baby dragon and his big sister over who would get to sit in the chair.

Nearly every surface of the living room had some photograph on it; picture after picture after picture of every meaningful event for their family. Guests entering the house were immediately greeted by the Hearth’s Warming Eve photos, complete with thick, ugly sweaters in festive designs. On the mantle above the fireplace were some of the more important photos, like graduations, his parents’ wedding picture, and the first day that Shining, Twilight, and Spike were brought home.

Against the back wall that separated the living room from the kitchen sat his mother’s piano. In her youth she’d been a very promising keyboard player, and had attempted to pass that musical gift on to her children. Shining and Twilight had very rudimentary skills in the area of music, but their talents lay elsewhere, so their mother eventually gave up teaching them. Spike, however, took very well to music, much to Twilight Velvet’s delight.

Spike went to the piano and noodled out a few bars of nothing in particular. He’d spend hours of his childhood sitting at the keys, practicing and entertaining his family while they discussed the day’s events around the fire.

“Still perfectly in tune,” Spike said with a chuckle as he ran the back of his hand from one end of the keys to the other.

Spike went to the staircase leading to the second floor and dragged his duffle up the steps towards his old room.

His parents had their bedroom up on the third floor, along with their extra large master bathroom and his dad’s study. The second floor had a full bath of its own, and two bedrooms: one for Shining, and one that he and Twilight shared.

He opened the door to his old bedroom and hit the lights, illuminating the green and purple walls. He threw his bag on Twilight’s old bed – the one with the bright pink quilt embroidered with a quill and parchment – and threw himself onto his own bed.

He shook his head and laughed quietly to himself, rubbing his face against the soft blue comforter. The bed was practically brand new, since as a baby Spike had had preferred sleeping in a basket – a preference influenced by some deep seated draconic instinct for young dragons to sleep in small nests prepared by their mothers. As he grew older, that instinctual impetus waned and he was able to discover the magic of actual mattresses.

“A basket,” he chuckled. “What was I thinking?”

He began drifting to sleep, only to suddenly become very aware that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

“Think, think, think…” he muttered to himself. He was trapped, torn between two of his favorite things: eating and sleeping. “Eh… better get up…”

He rolled out of bed and went down to the kitchen in the hopes that there might be something to eat. His parents would no doubt have gotten rid of everything perishable before leaving on their trip, but he crossed his claws and hoped for a miracle as he approached the fridge.

“Empty,” he sighed as he peered inside the icebox. “Of course it is.”

He stared sadly at the only thing in the fridge, a small unopened jar of mayonnaise, and cursed his lack of foresight. He really should have stopped by the market, or at least the Hay Burger.

A quick search of the cabinets turned up nothing more substantial than a half empty box of crackers. He examined one and nibbled experimentally. They were a little stale, but otherwise serviceable. He was struck by grim inspiration and returned to the fridge to collect the jar of mayonnaise. He opened it, sniffed it suspiciously, and scooped a helping of the substance onto a cracker. It was disgusting, it was unhealthy, and it was very likely to give anything less hearty than a dragon severe indigestion at best, but he took a bite anyway.

“You’re no nachos,” he said to the snack as he chewed, “but you’ll do.”

He carried his dinner back to the living room and set it on the coffee table. Bundles of firewood were stacked beside the hearth, and a snap of his claw against the twine freed a few logs, which he tossed into the fireplace. He puffed a small gout of flame, just enough to get the fire going, and watched until he was sure that it would sustain itself.

In the corner of the room sat an old record player that he considered turning on. His father’s half of the collection was mostly old comedy albums from stand up comedians telling horrifically out-of-date political jokes, but his mom’s taste in music was actually pretty good.

He browsed the records and pulled out a fairly recent Sapphire Shores acoustic album that he wasn’t familiar with. The sassy musician had tried to reinvent herself a few years back and turned away from the pop stylings that had earned her fame. While the move hadn’t been particularly great for her career, Spike felt it was a turn for the better as far as her music went.

He flipped the album over and read the track list, which consisted of song titles hinting at topics like lost love and the meaning of life. He frowned and put the record back. A quick flip through the collection turned up more of the same type of love ballads and melancholy crooning from various artists. He cursed his lack of choice and grabbed the album that looked the least offensive to his mood.

He put his selection on the player, set the needle to a random track, and sat in his dad’s chair to eat his pathetic dinner.

“You ever notice how nobles be walkin’ around all like zoop zoop zoop?” the comedian on the record asked of the crowd as they stomped their hooves and roared with laughter. “What’s up with that?”

“Well, this vacation is off to a great start,” Spike muttered around a mouthful of mayo-crackers.

* * *

Spike walked through the castle doors and released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Glad I got that out of the way,” he said to himself as he hurried away from the entrance.

He had considered not stopping by the castle at all, but knew that he would never hear the end of it from Twilight if he didn’t at least drop in for a quick hello to pay his respects. He was in Canterlot on a quest to clear his head enough to ruminate on the future of his love life, and he honestly hadn’t looking forward to dancing around that issue with a pony as sharp as Princess Celestia. The princess could be pretty nosey about things, especially where close friends were involved, but Spike was still content to ignore the problem for a while longer.

Luckily, she had been suspiciously understanding about his assurances that his vacation was just a private getaway. Her acceptance of his vagueness and the little knowing smirk she wore during their visit made Spike suspect that Twilight might have gotten into contact with her, probably even before he’d left for Canterlot. He was a little miffed that Twilight was telling tales out of school, but was relieved that he didn’t have to discuss the issue. She had probably apprised Celestia of his circumstances to take some of the heat off of him, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t give her an earful later for tattling so readily.

They’d spoken a while, had some tea, and Luna had even stopped in for a few minutes to greet him as well. The Princess of the Night had had that same little glint in her eye that her sister did – that silent little giddiness that females got whenever they knew a secret about a male – which indicated that his secret struggles were becoming less secret by the moment.

After an hour or so, one of the royal aides, a unicorn with a fountain pen for a Cutie Mark, entered the room and pulled the princess away to deal with matters of state. Spike had made a mental note to find out that pony’s name and send her a fruit basket for her birthday.

He paused and looked around the castle forecourt for somewhere to go and decompress.

First time visitors to Canterlot were often surprised at how big the castle grounds were. The walls surrounding the castle didn’t only surround the castle, but also protected the royal gardens, the archives, the observatory, and Celestia’s school.

He mulled his choices over and headed down the path towards the archives. A good book was always a surefire way to relax.

The Canterlot Royal Archives were essentially an enormous library, the largest in all of Equestria. For a thousand years, Celestia’s hoofpicked archivists had collected books from all over the world to fill these hallowed halls. The collection was so vast that the shelves had to be magically reinforced to bear the weight of all the books, and a goodly portion of the collection wasn’t even above ground. A few centuries ago Celestia had ordered that the building be expanded downward, into the mountain itself.

His and Twilight’s library was impressive, but the Royal Archive? It was downright awe-inspiring.

He stopped at the golden gates leading into the building and greeted the guards.

“Fellas,” he said with a nod. “How’s the weather today?”

“Partly cloudy with a chance of nerds,” one of the guards replied with a snicker at the terrible old joke.

The other guard’s eyes widened as his senior officer broke discipline to greet their guest.

“What’s this guy’s problem?” Spike asked of the first guard.

“He’s new,” the stallion answered. He turned to his subordinate and nodded towards Spike. “This is Spike. You know, the dragon that was in your briefing on VIP’s to look out for?”

“Wait, he’s a dragon?” the younger guard asked. “Aren’t dragons supposed to be…?”

The younger guard stood on his hind legs and gestured vaguely with a raised hoof.

The older of the pair held his hoof to his face in embarrassment, unable to believe that the recruit could be so blunt about such a sensitive topic. The warning to not bring up Spike’s height was even underlined and bolded in the dossier on him.

Spike narrowed his eyes and walked through the door with a snort. “Why don’t you boys do me a favor and go ahead and have a great day?”

He grinned as he heard the older guard tell his subordinate that he’d be doing laps around the building once their watch was over.

Spike spared a glance at the circulation desk as he passed. The librarian, a severe looking elderly mare with her mane done up in a bun held by a pencil, glared at him over the rim of her little red-framed reading glasses as he passed. The head librarian had been on the job for as long as he could remember; every day, without fail. The students from Celestia’s school often speculated on what kept the mare so healthy, even despite her apparent age. The most popular theory was that she was some kind of aberrant changeling that fed on intellectual curiosity, though the theories about cloning and an entire family of identical sisters also had groundswell the last time he’d checked.

The familiar scent of old books was thick in the air as he strode into the main lobby. A valley of books rolled out before him in a seemingly endless maze of shelving, reading tables, and catalogues. To most visitors the sight was intimidating, but to Spike it was as familiar as the back of his hand.

When he and Twilight were living in Canterlot, the archive was the place they’d spent most of their time. A large section of the building was dedicated to being a public lending library, but much of the archive’s actual collection wasn’t generally available to the public. Only students and faculty of Celestia’s school, or other accredited learning institutions, were allowed into certain areas, and that wasn’t even mentioning the actual Restricted Wing. Of course, because of their connection to Princess Celestia, he and Twilight had full run of the place.

Which presented Spike with a problem: what should he read when he had the largest collection of reading material on the planet at his clawtips?

The research project Twilight had proposed to him the other day flittered to the front of his mind. The whole thing had been a ruse to get him to close up the library, but she had said that she did want to get around to it eventually. It had been a pretty interesting topic to study...

Spike only made it a few paces towards the Sciences before he felt something smash into him from behind with a high-pitched squeal. A pile of books and thick rolls of parchment fell atop him as he dropped to the ground, burying him alive. Luckily, this was hardly the first book avalanche he’d been in. He stood and rubbed the back of his head where the corner of a thick chemistry book had struck him. He silently thanked Celestia for the ruggedness of dragon scales.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” a mare apologized rapidly. “I was reading and I wasn’t looking where I was… Spike…?”

Spike’s eyes widened as he realized who had run into him. His attacker was a snow white coated unicorn with voluminous crimson hair streaked with violet, and her Cutie Mark was a crescent moon above three stars, which Spike knew signified an affinity for magic and astronomy.

“Moondancer?” Spike asked. “Wow, it’s been what… years?”

The mare nodded bashfully as she fixed the big blue bow tied to the base of her tail with a tug of her magic. “Something like that,” she laughed. “How’ve you been?”

“Well, I’ve been better,” he said, rubbing at the sore spot on his head.

“Ah, I’m so super sorry!” she gushed. She began to fret and check him over for injuries. “I was just kind of in a hurry and I wasn’t watching where I was going. See I was reading this book and you came out of nowhere…”

Spike laughed as she continued to yammer on and prod his sides experimentally, possibly searching for broken ribs.

“Stop, that tickles,” he said, brushing her hooves away gently and interrupting her longwinded explanation of the events leading up to their collision.

A loud shush came from behind them. The librarian had come over to see what was going on and hushed the two troublemakers before returning to her station.

“Sorry!” Moondancer said, her voice becoming a throaty hiss as she tried to whisper loudly enough to be heard.

It was good to see that Moondancer hadn’t changed much since their school days. She and Spike had shared most of their classes in Primary school, which consisted of the basic education courses that every young student in Equestria had to endure. Celestia’s school had a very condensed version of the curriculum – it was a school for gifted children, after all – which allowed students of the prestigious academy to get into advanced coursework sooner by graduating to Secondary education relatively early.

Spike remembered that Moondancer had been a curious girl, in every sense of the word. She was inquisitive, like Twilight had been, but unlike his sister, Moondancer had an outgoing charm and a tendency towards silliness that even endeared her to the older students. The entire campus more or less considered her everypony’s little sister, or mascot, depending on who you asked.

“I haven’t seen you since Primary graduation,” she said softly, to avoid the ire of the librarian, as she levitated her books and organized them back into neat stacks according to subject.

“Yeah, I kind of got swept up in helping Twilight with her post-grad studies, and a couple of months later I ended up moving to Ponyville,” Spike explained as he stooped to help her. He noted that most of the books were very advanced books on magic and chemistry, some of them coming from the restricted stacks.

“I was pretty disappointed that you didn’t get to join me in the Secondary classes,” she said. “I always had fun studying with you.”

“Well it is a school for unicorns,” Spike laughed. He tapped his forehead with a claw knowingly. “No horn, see? I was a special case, so they let me attend for the General Education, but Gen-Ed ends after Primary, and I couldn’t do the Secondary stuff because that’s when the magical studies went from theory to practical.”

“Such a shame,” Moondancer sighed. “You really had a head for magic theory, which I guess still holds true.”

Spike shot her an inquisitive look. “How do you know what I’ve still got a head for?”

“I read that paper you published on the properties of dragonfire and the ways it interacts with unicorn magic,” she explained happily. “It was top notch stuff!”

A little flame of pride began to burn in Spike’s chest at the compliment. He took a breath and quickly smothered it before it became an inferno self-aggrandizement.

“Twilight wrote most of that. I only really wrote the foreword and did most of the lab work. It wasn’t a big deal. Honestly, it felt a little bit like giving a book report on myself.”

Moondancer looked taken aback. She cautiously jabbed Spike in the side again, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

“You sure you’re Spike?” she asked in a measured tone. “The Spike I know would’ve climbed to the top of a bookshelf and started telling the whole library about all the hard work he put into something like that.”

“I was never that bad, was I?” he asked sheepishly.

“I may be embellishing a little, but not by a lot,” she said with a fond smile.

They carried the books to a table and set them down. Spike pulled a chair out for Moondancer, which earned a coo of appreciation from the mare.

“Ooooh, how cultured of you,” she commented to the dragon as he took his own seat. “So what brings you to the archives?”

“Just looking for a little light vacation reading,” he answered. “Things got a little busy in Ponyville for me and Twilight suggested I get out of town for a while, just for a breather from work or whatever.”

“Anything in particular you’re looking to read?”

“Something from the Weather Sciences,” Spike said with a shrug. “Twilight and I are planning to do some research on something with lightning. I need to familiarize myself with the stuff.”

“Okay, now I know you’re not Spike,” she scoffed. “Spike would never read something as dry as a science textbook while on vacation. Or is ‘looking for something to read’ just some kind of code phrase for ‘looking for a comfortable pile of books to sleep on?’ See, that’s something I would believe of the real Spike.”

“If I don’t do it now I’m going to have to cram it later!” he said defensively. “And you’re a fine one to talk about anypony’s tastes in recreational reading.”

Spike tapped one of the books, a thick brown tome, stained with age. In place of a title the book simply bore the Cutie Mark of Starswirl the Bearded.

“I’m pretty sure this one isn’t even supposed to leave the restricted area,” he said smugly.

“The lighting’s better in here,” Moondancer explained timidly, a light blush on her cheeks. “It’s fine as long as I don’t leave the library with it.”

“How’d you get in there, anyway?” he asked curiously.

“One of my professors got Princess Celestia to sign a permission slip for me,” she said.

“Oh, so you’re still studying?” Spike asked.

Moondancer brushed back her mane and nodded. “I’m working on a graduate degree. I want to be a professor.”

“Wow, so is this for your thesis, then?”

“It’s related to it,” she answered. “It’s kind of overwhelming, though. I’ve never worked on a project this big before and my organizational skills are kind of… wanting…”

“How about I help you?” Spike offered plainly. “I’m a master of organization.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Moondancer said. “You said you were on vacation!”

Spike sighed. “I think what’ll be best for me on this vacation is just to have something to keep my mind occupied.”

“Is everything okay…?” Moondancer asked, suddenly concerned by the odd tone that had crept into his voice. The little oddities in his behavior were beginning to pile up and she could sense that he had something weighing on him.

“Of course,” Spike quickly assured her. “I get to spend time with an old friend again. What could be more fun?”

Moondancer smiled bashfully. “I-if you say so…”

“Tell me about this project of ours,” Spike prompted her. He looked over some of the books again, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth in thought as he read. “I see a lot of stuff about potioneering and magic geometry. That’s an odd combination.”

“You know me,” Moondancer tittered anxiously. “I’ve always been a fan of odd combinations...”

* * *

It had been two days since Scootaloo had confessed her heart’s deepest secret to the first guy who’d ever caught her eye. She’d been mortified, embarrassed beyond comprehension, but she’d gotten it out and that was what mattered.

According to Twilight, Spike had chosen to spend some time in Canterlot thinking things over, and try as she might Scootaloo just couldn’t bring herself to be mad at him. She’d been kicking herself for it since she’d heard he’d left, but she had been the one to say that he should take all the time he needed. He hadn’t said no outright, hadn’t told her that he only liked her as a friend or that he couldn’t see himself dating somepony like her, and she was going to take that as a good sign.

The only issue was that it was very stressful not knowing which way the chips were leaning, so she did the only thing she could think of to relax while she waited for the other hoof to fall.

There was no place in all of Ponyville more relaxing than the trail that snaked its way through White Tail Woods. The path had been beaten by the hooves of generations of ponies participating in the annual Running of the Leaves, and the rest of the year the path was just a nice place to go for a hike.

Frequent joggers tended to avoid the path, choosing instead to stick to the walkway through the park near the center of town. The path through the woods tended to be too long and out of the way for any but the most serious of runners. It was usually abandoned, except for weekends, and the few weeks leading up to the Running of the Leaves when ponies went into training for the event.

A nice long, quiet stretch of trail with nopony to interrupt was exactly what Scootaloo needed. Exercise always cleared her head of distractions and worry. She could get up early after a night of tossing and turning over this or that, but as soon as she stepped on the trail and started moving, she could lose herself in her body. Her conscious mind faded away, only focusing on the sensation of her hooves striking the dirt, the ache in her muscles, the feel of sweat rolling down her forehead. Flying was great, she loved flying, but she could never seem to lose herself in the act the way she did with running.

The road beneath her began sloping to the left almost imperceptibly. This miniscule defect in the path would be undetectable to anypony that wasn’t intimately familiar with the road, but to Scootaloo it was a marker that told her that her circuit was nearing its end. She kept running along the path until she came upon a tree where a young couple had carved their initials into the trunk at some unknown point in the past.

She turned off the road at the tree, vaulting over a low bush, and slowed down to walk the last few lengths along the much rougher path. The shortcut led her to a water pump at the very edge of Sweet Apple Acres. She began pumping the handle, grunting with the effort needed once a little bit of pressure built in the line. Water gushed up from the ground every with stroke until it filled a large wooden pail beneath the spout. She drank straight from the bucket until she had her fill and dumped the remainder on her head.

“It’s almost enough to make a girl forget,” she quipped sedately as she shook the water from her mane.

She trotted in the direction of the clubhouse. The building had gone through a little remodeling over the years, from repairs after failed Cutie Mark attempts, additions added by Apple Bloom, and whatever interior design fad Sweetie Belle’s magazines insisted was all the rage in some far off fashion hotspot.

Sometimes Scootaloo wondered if maybe she and the girls were too old for tree houses, but the sight of the place always filled her heart with the warmth of the memories they’d made there. One day they’d have to give it up, abandon it for some other group of starry-eyed misfits to discover and fill with memories of their own, but that day wasn’t quite here just yet.

As Scootaloo neared the tree house she could hear the murmur of her two best friends in heated discussion. This wasn’t an uncommon thing, as Sweetie and Bloom tended to have friendly disagreements over most any topic that came up.

She approached the clubhouse and the voices floating out the opened window became clearer.

“This is all your dang sister’s fault,” Apple Bloom accused in that gruff familial accent of hers.

“How is it Rarity’s fault that Spike likes her?” Sweetie asked defensively.

Scootaloo paused in surprise. Her friends were talking about Spike, which meant they were probably talking about her as well. She crept forward slowly, unable to resist the urge to eavesdrop. Her ears strained to pick up every word.

“She’s the one that’s been leading poor Spike on all this time,” Apple Bloom pointed out. “If she’d just let the poor fella down sooner, he wouldn’t have still been all twisted up for her like he is and Scootaloo wouldn’t be moping around in them woods like she’s haunting them.”

Scootaloo furrowed her brow. Was she really being mopey?

“Spike’s to blame in this too, you know,” Sweetie said with a sniff of contempt. “He should’ve pushed Rarity into making her choice a long time ago. Hay, he should’ve just stallioned up and admitted that Rarity wasn’t interested in him and said yes to Scootaloo on the spot.”

“I reckon you got a point on that one,” Apple Bloom sighed heavily. “I just don’t know what we can do for the gal... You’re sure you don’t know nothing about Rarity’s say in this? Scoots said she’d been holding back all this time on account of not knowing if she stood a chance against your sister. I’d hate to have to that filly go through all this only to end up with Rarity coltblocking her at the finish line.”

“My sister’s not the type to be a… a coltblocker,” Sweetie said sharply. Scootaloo could almost hear the blush in her voice. “But no, I have no idea what Rarity’s opinion is vis-à-vis Spike’s romantic interest. She loves gossiping about stallions, but Spike’s always been one of those ‘off the table’ topics that always just got me a glare and a ‘We do not speak of friends in those regards, young lady.’”

“Seems like maybe that says a thing or two fizzabee her feelings on Spike’s feelings,” Apple Bloom suggested.

“But it might not. Rarity’s weird like that. I mean, she’s my sister and sometimes even I have trouble figuring her out.”

“Well, I still think you should’ve pushed her harder. We would’ve known the truth a long time ago.”

“I had no reason to do that!” Sweetie Belle shouted. “This little dance she and Spike have been having has been going on for years, and it wasn’t anypony’s business but theirs!”

“She’s your sister and he’s our friend,” Apple Bloom said in a measured tone, like she was spelling it out for somepony slow. “That was reason enough to get involved, even before Scoots had pulled up a chair at the table.”

“And yet nopony did,” Sweetie said heatedly. “It’s not just me that ignored this, we all did. Because we all figured that eventually Spike would give it up, or one of Rarity’s dozens of crushes would pan out for her and Spike would be forced to let her go…”

A moment of heavy silence hung over the conversation until Sweetie Belle broke it by adding: “Maybe I could’ve tried to find out something more if Scootaloo hadn’t sprung this on us at the last possible second…”

“Don’t you go blaming this on Scoots, now,” Apple Bloom warned. “She told us when she was good and ready, and I ain’t gunna force a pony to fess up to something like that before they’re ready.”

“Oh, so you wouldn’t have forced Scootaloo to admit it, but I should’ve forced Rarity?”

“Dang it, don’t go and try turning my words around on me with your dang logic!”

“Look, all I’m saying is that Scootaloo should’ve come to us for help,” Sweetie Belle said, slowly bleeding the edge out of her voice. “We’re her friends. Cutie Mark Crusaders help each other, and she didn’t trust us enough to come to us with what is actually a pretty gosh darn big decision…”

“I’ll admit… that does sting a mite in the ol’ pride…”

Scootaloo felt a pang of guilt in her heart. Sweetie Belle was right. If she could’ve trusted anypony, it should’ve been the two ponies that had always had her back, through thick and thin.

She leapt up, flying past the ramp leading up to the front door, and landed on the front walkway. She opened the door to the surprise of the two occupants. Before anything else could be said, Scootaloo rushed forward and pulled her two friends into a hug.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you guys by keeping secrets from you,” she whispered to the two stunned girls in her arms. “I just didn’t know what to do about these feelings, and I kept trying to ignore how I felt. I honestly didn’t want to tell anypony, but Rainbow Dash knew something was up and squeezed it out of me, and Twilight figured it out on her own. I know I should’ve come to the two of you first, and I would have, but everything just kind of came out in the open really fast… I’m so sorry...”

Sweetie and Apple Bloom sat in stunned silence, listening to the apology. After a few moments their brains caught up with the situation and they hugged their friend back.

“You were listening in on us?” Apple Bloom asked.

“I could hear you yelling all the way from the water pump,” Scootaloo answered half-truthfully. There was no reason to bring up exactly how long she’d been listening. “We could drive off Timberwolves with the sound of you two arguing.”

“Yes, well you smell bad, Scootaloo,” Sweetie said as she tightened her grip on her sweaty friend, earning her a laugh from the other two girls.

Scootaloo released her friends and pushed them away gently. Hugs were nice, but she didn’t want them thinking she was going too soft.

“We’re real sorry about talking behind your back,” Apple Bloom apologized as Sweetie nodded her agreement. “It’s just… you know… You know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Scootaloo replied awkwardly. She scratched her collarbone nervously, struggling for something to say.

“Good, we all know,” Sweetie said, summing up the exchange neatly with a roll of her eyes. “Just next time you get a crush, give us a little warning, yes? I don’t think my poor heart can take another shock like that.”

“I’m kind of hoping that crushes won’t be an issue for me for a while after this is all over with,” Scootaloo said. She flopped onto her back against the carpet. “Why are feelings so difficult? Wish I was an awesome cyborg with a cybernetic heart incapable of equine emotion… and beam cannons… Beam cannons and a robot heart.”

Scootaloo pulled her wings in close as she felt Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle settling in beside her, one on each side. Her friends pressed against her, silently sharing their support as they stared at the ceiling. When they were fillies they would always snuggle together like this at slumber parties, or when they would stargaze and dream about the future. Scootaloo grabbed onto that familiar comfort and held it tightly to her chest. No matter what was going on, she always had her girls at her side.

“You can’t solve every problem with cybernetics,” Sweetie said kindly. “There are some things that science can’t fix.”

“Don’t let Twi hear you talking like that,” Apple Bloom snickered. “She might go and make Scootaloo into a pony-borg just to prove you wrong.”

“Do you think?” Scootaloo asked excitedly.

The response came in the form of two groans from the fillies next to her.

“So can I just go ahead and ask?” Sweetie blurted out. “I mean… Spike? Really?”

“He’s cute…” Scootaloo said defensively, as though that were answer enough.

Apple Bloom shrugged. “In his way, I suppose. But don’t you think he’s a touch… indoorsy for you?”

“How do you figure?” Scootaloo asked.

“She’s on to something there,” Sweetie said. “You’re practically the postermare for physical activity, and Spike’s a total homebody.”

“I reckon it’s on account of him being a dragon,” Apple Bloom added sagely. “All the stories I ever heard with dragons had them spending all their time sleeping in caves on top of their hoards. And I know I’ve seen Spike sleeping on a pile of books more than once by a bunch.”

“Hey, pegasi like sleeping, too!” Scootaloo said. “Rainbow Dash has four naps a day.”

“So then you both like sleeping,” Apple Bloom said.

“Yup,” Scootaloo agreed.

“So that’s something you have in common?” Sweetie asked.

“Yup,” Scootaloo answered.

“So then what you’re saying is that you want to sleep with Spike,” Apple Bloom said.

“Yup.”

Scootaloo regretted the word the second it left her mouth. She hid her face behind her hooves as her entire body flushed pink. Her friends began to hooting and making kissy noises while they rolled around on the floor laughing.

“Shut up!” Scootaloo commanded angrily.

Apple Bloom pounced on Sweetie Belle and pinned her to the ground. She leaned over her, gazing lovingly into her eyes.

“D-don’t let me sleep alone, Spike,” Sweetie Belle swooned dramatically as she stared back up at Apple Bloom. “S-stay with me, p-please… I need you to hold me with your big, strong, scaly arms.”

“Oh Scootaloo,” Apple Bloom said to Sweetie. “Oh Scoots, I love you so dang much, I want you to have my babies. Hug me like that teddy bear that you think nopony knows you still sleep with but you totally do.”

Scootaloo ran up to the pair and shoved Apple Bloom as hard as she could, sending the girl tumbling away.

“Oh my gosh, shut up, shut up so hard, both of you!” Scootaloo demanded as she buried her face in the carpet.

Once their laughter died down to painful chuckles, Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom hugged Scootaloo and gently coaxed her from the little ball of shame that Scootaloo had curled herself into.

“Sorry,” Sweetie Belle apologized. “We couldn’t help ourselves. But don’t you feel better now that you’ve laughed about it?”

“I didn’t laugh,” Scootaloo grumbled bitterly. “You two laughed.”

“Well then don’t you feel better now that we’ve laughed about it?” Sweetie corrected hopefully.

Even Apple Bloom gave her a questioning look.

“All joking aside,” Apple Bloom said, soldiering on. “Why do you like Spike?”

Scootaloo frowned. “It’s kind of hard to explain… thinking about him and being near him makes my heart go really fast, just like in the romance stories, but there’s something else. It’s like… he makes me feel really still.”

She looked up to see her friends sharing expressions of confusion as to her meaning.

“I’m always moving and doing stuff,” Scootaloo said, gesturing with her hooves vaguely in an attempt to communicate the abstract way Spike make her feel. “I’m always thinking about the next trick, or itching to fly, or go for a jog, or something. I’m never content to just sit still… except when I’m with Spike. He makes me feel still, and happy about it.”

“I get that,” Apple Bloom said. “Big Macintosh is about the stillest pony there is. Sometimes I like to just sit with him on the porch and watch the sun go down. Reckon it’s important to have somepony in your life that makes you appreciate the quiet moments, especially for a gal like yourself, Scoots.”

“Yeah, but that’s how you feel about your brother,” Scootaloo said. “I definitely don’t feel like Spike’s a brother to me… It’d uh… be kind of awkward… considering some of the dreams I’ve been having lately…”

Scootaloo held up her hooves to stop the tide of questions she sensed was about to hit her.

“I’m not going to tell you about my dirty dreams!” she said forcefully.

“…so they were dirty, then…?” Sweetie asked.

Scootaloo sighed and hung her head in exasperation. “Just keep putting your hoof in your mouth, Scootaloo, eventually you’ll choke on it,” she muttered to herself.

“Don’t worry about it, everypony has weird dreams,” Sweetie said.

“I just like him,” Scootaloo said, choosing to get back to the topic at hoof. “He’s my friend. He makes me think about stuff, important stuff. And when he’s concentrating on something really hard he sticks out his tongue and it’s so cute I want to just give him a great big kiss... Do I really have to have more reasons than to want the guy as my special somepony?”

“So what’re you going to do, then…?” Sweetie asked softly, her cheeks tinged a little at the sincerity of Scootaloo’s confession.

Scootaloo stood and stretched out the tightness in her muscles.

“With Spike still in Canterlot?” she asked. “I’m going to go for a run.”

* * *

It was eating her up inside – it had been ever since that day that she’d called out Rarity and confronted her on the matter at hoof. At first she hadn’t known what was wrong with her. She was feeling tired and anxious in a way that she couldn’t place. Eventually she realized it was guilt she was feeling. Whether it was guilt over having allowed Spike’s situation to go on for so long, or over the lie she’d told him at Rarity’s urging, she wasn’t completely sure.

The guilt grew in her like a tapeworm, leaving a largely empty feeling in the pit of her stomach that she’d tried to fill with food. The feast that Spike had left upstairs had been eaten in a day, and since then she’d been ordering takeout and eating salty snacks like a college kid fresh out of her parent’s house.

When food didn’t work, she turned to the last refuge for a troubled mind: flowcharts.

She sat hunched over the circulation desk in the library, surrounded by empty takeout containers and crumpled sheets of paper with failed attempts at charting the interactions at play. She’d tried every conceivable permutation to try and sort out where this mess might be heading. She took into account every possible outcome from every angle, for each of the parties involved. She’d even tried to introduce line graphs and Venn diagrams at some early point in her plotting, but they were too inelegant, too limited. Twilight knew that if the proper course of action could be found in meticulous planning and careful organization – and she would bet her life that it could be – that the flowcharts would be the only organizational medium capable of expressing it.

The sound of toppling cardboard filled her ears, startling her out of her obsessive charting. She was hit by the sudden realization that Applejack was standing next to her, one hoof still outstretched incriminatingly where the wall of empty takeout boxes had previously stood.

“Applejack!” Twilight shouted, holding a hoof to her forehead as she fought to regain her composure. “You scared me, what’s the big idea?”

“I had to do something to get your attention," Applejack said in that trademark homespun accent of hers. "You didn’t notice when I came in and you weren’t saying anything back to me. What’re you working on that’s so dang interesting?”

Applejack smoothed out one of the crumpled notes scattered around the desk. All she managed to discern before the paper was yanked away with a tug of Twilight’s magic was that it was some kind of diagram with Spike’s name at the top. The parchment disappeared with a slight pop. The sound echoed a few dozen times as the rest of the paperwork was spirited away, probably to Twilight’s study upstairs.

“It’s nothing,” Twilight said, rubbing her face tiredly. “I’ve just got something on my mind.”

“I can see that,” Applejack said. She placed a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder and gave her a worried look. “You okay, sugarcube? You look like five miles of bad road.”

“I’m just really tired,” Twilight sighed. She levitated the empty food containers into a waste bin and sent it away with another audible pop. Her nose wrinkled at the lingering smell of day old takeout noodles and she made a mental note to get some air freshener later. “To what do I owe the visit?”

Applejack eyed her friend thoughtfully. “Well I had been coming over to see if you were free to sit a spell and help me out with a little advice,” she said. “But it looks like you’re the one that needs somepony to lean on.”

“I’m fine, really,” Twilight replied.

“If you’re fine then what all is with the takeout?” Applejack asked probingly. She picked up a stray noodle and sniffed it. She made a very Rarity-ish noise and walked to another waste basket at the end of the desk to dispose of it.

“I’m just stress eating…” Twilight admitted. “Like I said, I’m just really busy.”

“Twi, that ain’t like you,” Applejack said, her voice heavy with concern. “Last time you got all wound up like this Spike had to hogtie you to a chair to get you settled enough to fill your belly. Where is the little guy, anyway? Why ain’t he helping you with whatever this is?”

Twilight hung her head, staring fixedly at the scuff marks on the floor and not saying a word.

“You know, I came over to talk about Bloom,” Applejack said delicately. “She’s been dragging her hooves all over the house. She’s got that same hangdog look on her that you do. We’re all mighty worried about her, but all she’ll say is that she’s worried about a friend, and that it ain’t her place to say what’s wrong.”

Twilight’s lip began to tremble and her eyes started watering. Days of frustration and worry began to bubble inside her at the implication that Scootaloo’s friends were likewise fretting over the situation, but she put a stopper on it before her emotions got the better of her. With a deep breath she managed to rein it back in, and a swipe of her hoof erased the last of the evidence of her moment of weakness. She felt a hoof on her chin lifting her face up to meet Applejack’s concerned eyes.

“You look like you’re a bad report card away from breaking into tears, sug’,” Applejack said. “Spike’s missing, Bloom is worried about a friend, and now I find you sitting here scribbling away like a madmare. It don’t take a cowpony to know when something smells like manure. What’s going on?”

“It’s…” She tried to turn away again but Applejack held firm. “It’s not my place to say…”

“Bull,” Applejack said simply. “I bought that from Apple Bloom, but I ain’t buying it twice. Just tell me so I can help.”

“If I do, you can’t tell anypony,” Twilight said, almost pleadingly.

Applejack shook her head and sighed. “I’m not one for secrets… if it’s something bad, I can’t promise anything. It’s not anything bad, is it?”

“It’s between Spike and Rarity,” Twilight blurted out. “It’s their business.”

Applejack’s eyes widened.

“Okay, I’m listening,” Applejack said immediately. “I think you’d best start from the top.”

A flash of Twilight's magic locked the castle doors and flipped the door sign, closing up the library. Secure in the knowledge that nopony else would be barging in, Twilight began filling Applejack in on the events of the last few days. Twilight told her about Scootaloo’s confession, the talk with Rarity, finding Spike sitting alone in the library, and how she sent him off to Canterlot to get his head on straight. All the while, Applejack listened quietly, nodding and gasping where appropriate.

Twilight wasn’t sure how long the tale had taken to tell, but by the end of it her stomach was beginning to rumble again. She stopped long enough to ask if Applejack wouldn’t mind finishing their talk in the kitchen. She agreed and Twilight made for the stairs with Applejack right behind.

“As soon as he left I sent a note to Celestia letting her know that Spike was going to be in Canterlot,” Twilight said as she wrapped up the story. “I didn’t give any specifics, but I told her that Spike was there to sort some things out regarding mare troubles, so that she wouldn’t press too hard if she got wind that something was wrong. Knowing her though, she probably sat there smirking at him like she knew the whole deal.”

“Yeah, I reckon the Princess likes her little jokes,” Applejack agreed with a quiet chuckle. “So then… Spike and Scoots? That’s something. Guess that’s what’s been eating at Bloom.”

Twilight nodded mutely as they stepped into the kitchen. She immediately filled a couple of water glasses for herself and her friend. Twilight downed her glass in a single gulp and poured another as she rummaged in the cabinets. Applejack headed for the stools by the counter and had a seat.

“And you’re sure, absolutely sure, that Rares has some kind of feelings for Spike?” Applejack asked.

“Yeah, I’m certain of it,” Twilight said as she emptied a whole bag of chips into a bowl. “The look in her eyes was pretty unmistakable.”

“Dang…” Applejack whispered reverently. “Rainbow Dash owes me so much money…”

“AJ, this is serious!”

“I am talking serious!” Applejack replied with a grin. “Serious bits! I’m getting a new wagon!”

Twilight gave a glare that very clearly communicated what she thought of Applejack’s attempts at levity.

“Alright, alright,” Applejack said. “So then you’re worried about Spike, and how he feels about all this?”

“Yeah, I’m worried about him and also about what this kind of drama could mean for our group dynamic…” Twilight admitted as she trotted over to sit next to Applejack. The levitating bowl of chips set down between them and they each took a few. “But more immediately I’m just feeling really guilty.”

“About not having stepped in sooner?” Applejack asked.

“About that, yes…” Twilight said. She laid her cheek against the cool tile of the counter and watched a chip spin weightlessly in her telekinetic grip. “I’m starting to think that what’s really bothering me is that I lied to him… Intellectually I understand that there is such a thing as a Noble Lie, one that benefits the individual being lied to, but it just doesn’t feel right. Whatever his decision is, it’s going to be based on that lie… I just wanted to protect him… I wanted to protect Rarity, too… and Scootaloo while I was at it…”

She groaned defeatedly and dropped the chip into her mouth. She chewed it more than strictly necessary and stared up at her friend.

“Do you think I did the right thing?” Twilight asked hopefully, her voice more like that of a child asking for validation than of the living embodiment of magic itself. “Keeping Rarity’s secret and lying to Spike, I mean…”

Applejack couldn’t help but grin. “I think you know what my answer to that is, Twi,” she said with a laugh.

“Yeah…” Twilight sighed. “Yeah, I do…”

“Truth is always the best policy, far as I’m concerned,” Applejack said, adjusting her hat and tapping back into place. “But you’re a big girl, and I’ll back you up whatever you decide to do, even if what you choose goes against my better nature. All I’ll say is that you should probably listen to your conscience on the matter.”

Twilight sat upright, grabbed a bunch of the chips, and shoved them into her mouth angrily, not even bothering with her magic.

“My conscience is a jerk and she’s trying to make me fat,” Twilight grumbled tersely, her voice heavily muffled by the amount of chips stuffed into her mouth.

Applejack laughed again and reached for another chip. “Yeah, mine’s a jerk, too. Funny thing, though. She very rarely steers me far off from where I need to be.”

Twilight and Applejack sat there for a while in silence, the only sound being the crunch of chips as they worked their way to the bottom of the bowl.

“I’ll tell him the truth, he needs all the facts it he’s going to make an informed decision,” Twilight declared, earning a nod of approval from her most honest friend. “I’ll send him a letter in a few days. I sent him to Canterlot to have a good time and I don’t want to spoil his vacation just yet. There’ll be enough time for ridiculous romantic drama later.”

* * *

Chapter 3 - Be Brave

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Spike had been worried that his ‘vacation’ would end up with him alone, brooding in the living room, surrounded by books and empty ice cream tubs while listening to moody ballads on the record player. Happily, the lucky addition of Moondancer had turned the trip into a real holiday. The cheerful girl had done wonders for his disposition. Her boundless energy and enthusiasm, combined with her ability to speak at great lengths about nearly any topic, made for a great distraction from his troubles. It also helped that she had work for him to busy himself with, and research was a comfortably familiar pursuit.

Today was supposed to be the beginning of their trial runs for an experiment, but they had found the campus’ potioneering supply room wanting for the sort of work they were doing. And so it was that Spike found himself walking alongside Moondancer through the shopping district, on their way to a little hole-in-the-wall that she knew.

The Canterlot shopping district was one of the few places where tourists and middle-class locals could rub shoulders with the upper-class. Along the main street, beyond the market alley where vendors and grocers sold foodstuffs, there were storefronts running the gamut from high-end jewelry and fashion, to record stores peddling music meant to appeal to fickle teenagers and even fickler adults.

The main thoroughfare enjoyed the high end coffee shops and boutiques sought out by rich ponies and tourists with money to burn, and the storefronts here were laid out much like the residential areas – with lots of very straight angles, and buildings laid out in neat little rows. Turning down some of the side streets, however, took you to the real heart of the district. This part of the market was a maze of alleyways snaking through oddly arranged buildings that seemed to spring up wherever they pleased, like trees in a forest.

Spike followed closely behind Moondancer as she guided him off the beaten path, down an unmarked side-street and through the labyrinth of nondescript shops. He had lived in Canterlot for a very good portion of his life, and the fact that he could still be led down unfamiliar ways said a lot about the organic layout of the back end of the Canterlot markets.

His guide stopped suddenly, spinning to face him and giving a wide grin. She stood and waved dramatically at the door of a drab little shop tucked between a dry cleaners and an all-you-can-eat buffet. There was no sign indicating a name for the store, just a placard on the wall with a mortar and pestle. Even through the door, Spike could smell the spicy, earthy mix of various herbs and poultices.

“This is the place,” Moondancer announced giddily, eager to show Spike one of her favorite spots in town. The poorly secured saddlebags she wore slid off her back, but she ignored them to maintain her dramatic pose. “If this place doesn’t have what we need for our experiment, then no place in Canterlot will!”

She collected her saddlebags and nodded to Spike, who subconsciously checked the strap on the satchel hanging at his side. They stepped into the shop, jingling the little bell above the door as they did, and were greeted from behind the counter by a wizened old zebra stallion. He pushed a pair of halfmoon spectacles up his nose as he looked up from a newspaper, and gave them a yellow, nearly-toothless smile.

“This old zebra bids you young ones welcome to his store, is there anything in particular you are looking for?” he asked in the odd rhyming affectation of his tribe.

“Yeah, but I can find it, thanks!” Moondancer said as she strode confidently into the store, making her way through the cluttered showroom with surprising grace.

“Beautiful Moondancer, on your custom I can always depend, and today I see you have brought a friend,” the old zebra said with a respectful dip of his head and a glance at Spike.

“My name’s Spike,” Spike said as he returned the gesture. “Great store you have here.”

The shop owner shrugged. “My location could be better, but my regulars I do treasure.”

Spike chuckled politely and began poking around the shop while Moondancer got her supplies.

The store was cramped, filled with rickety bookshelves and old, dusty bins packed with various materials for potioneering and alchemy. The walls were decorated with tribal masks and little kitschy souvenirs from the zebra homeland, each with an outrageous price tag, no doubt on display to catch the eye of any tourists that wandered into the shop.

Despite the tourist bait, Spike had to admit that the stock of legitimate potion ingredients was varied. He didn’t know much about the art, but a lot of the shelves held powders and leaves that Spike could recognize as things he’d seen Zecora throw into her cauldron at one point or another over the years.

Spike stopped at a rack with a sign indicating health-related herbal supplements. He knew what a few of the substances were for, but most of them were alien to him. He picked up a sample of an unfamiliar purple leaf and held it between his claws, scrutinizing it in the dim lighting.

“Find something?” Moondancer asked.

Spike held up the leaf as his friend approached. He realized he must have lost track of time while browsing, as the owner was already measuring out and packaging a small pile of ingredients for Moondancer behind the counter.

“I was just wondering what this was,” Spike told her. “I’ve never seen an herb like this.”

Moondancer’s face lit up with excitement.

“Aha! Finally, something I know that you don’t,” she gloated. “This is Stiff-Iron Wormleaf!”

“Never heard of that,” Spike admitted. “What’s it for?”

Moondancer froze mid-victory dance. Her expression melted slowly, the joy curdling into an embarrassed frown. Spike had seen that look on the faces of many scholars in his lifetime – it was the look of being put on the spot with a question you should have known the answer to.

She narrowed her eyes at the leaf and brought it closer to her face, as though the name would be written there in tiny print. She hummed in thought as she physically examined the sample between her hooves. She sniffed it, held it up to the light, and shook it a few times for good measure.

“Well…” she began to say as she pointed at the two bins on either side of the one the leaf had come from. “That one is for arrhythmia, and the other one is for… constipation… so this is…”

Her frown deepened as the seconds ticked by. The silence was quickly becoming awkward, so Moondancer took drastic action and popped the leaf into her mouth before anypony could stop her. She chewed it experimentally and focused on any changes to her internal chemistry.

“I think it’s a breath freshener,” she guessed cautiously as a burst of minty flavor filled her mouth with every bite.

“That’s for erectile dysfunction,” the shopkeeper stated plainly, without even the pretense of lyricism.

Moondancer leaned forward, letting her tongue loll out of her mouth so the leafy paste could slide off her tongue with a half-gagged, “Bleeeargh,” and a wet plop as it struck the floor.

Spike was only just barely able to keep from laughing. He reached into his satchel and pulled out a bit, which he flipped towards the stallion behind counter with a chuckled, “For the leaf.”

The zebra alchemist caught the coin midair with a skillful click of his teeth and deposited it in a lockbox under the counter.

“If you tell anypony about this, I’ll turn you into a frog and drop you off the edge of Canterlot,” Moondancer threatened as she cleaned up the dollop of goop with a flicker of her magic.

Spike put a hand on her shoulder to calm her down. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, it happens to everypony sometimes. You’re probably just under a lot of stress.”

Spike knew immediately, from the look on her face, that he’d pushed the joke too far. He ran to the counter in a flash and snatched up the receipt. His eyes scanned quickly until he found the total of the purchases, and he paid for it all with a stack of bits from his satchel. He left the shop without a word and waited in the alley.

A few minutes later, Moondancer stepped into the street, her bags a little heavier and her scowl a little lighter.

“What have you learned?” she asked imperiously, without turning to look at her dragon companion.

“That pushing my luck can be very costly,” he mumbled sorely. He patted his satchel with a sigh, feeling how light it was now that it had been relieved of a substantial amount of cash.

“That’s right,” she said smugly as she marched away without even a glance in his direction. “And thank you for paying for my stuff.”

Spike jogged up quickly and fell in step with the mare.

“So what now?” he asked. “Want to go back to my house and try the experiment?”

“Actually, I was thinking we could take a day off, since I’m already like a week ahead of schedule, thanks to you,” Moondancer said cheerfully, her annoyance forgotten in a flash. “Your organizational system really sped things up.”

“You picked it up fast for only having been working with it for a few days,” he replied, glad that his companion was so quick to forgive and forget.

“You’re the one that made it seem easy. It’s kind of unreal how much a few color coded tabs and some sticky notes can smooth out the research process.”

“Far be it for me to toot my own horn,” Spike said, humbly, as he polished his claws against his chest scales, “but I have studied under a master of the organizational arts. I’m something of an authority on the subject.”

“Oh, good,” Moondancer said. “You’ve started bragging again. For a while there I thought the Spike I knew had been lost forever to the sands of puberty, or whatever it is dragons have.”

“Ew…” Spike whispered, a look of unease overtaking him. “Sandy puberty… That seems extra uncomfortable.”

“I, um… I meant that as, like, the sands of time, but also it was in reference to you having matured a lot since I last saw you, so I combined the two ideas into—“

Spike silenced Moondancer’s impending explanation, that no doubt would have gone on thrice as long as it would need to, with a pat on her shoulder and a nod.

“Right, so, day off?” Spike asked in the hopes of diverting the conversation back on track.

“I was thinking about maybe doing some more shopping, but I think it’d be nice to just go for a walk,” Moondancer suggested. “Like, not even visit any stores. Just a nice little stroll through the district, and maybe we could do some pony-watching.”

“That sounds good,” Spike replied.

The pair found their way back to the touristy part of the district and stepped into the flow of bodies wandering from store to store. Wide-eyed vacationers gawked openly at the high-priced wares, content to have spouses and friends take pictures in front of display windows before moving on to the next boutique.

“I’m really glad I bumped into you,” Moondancer said.

“Literally,” Spike quipped.

“Drop it, or I drop you off the edge of Canterlot, as per my earlier threat,” Moondancer told him with a roll of her eyes. “And I mean it. Being glad I bumped into you, that is, not about the frog thing… although I do mean that, as well… I always had fun with you, Spike, and I was starting to think we’d never run into each other again.”

“I guess we were pretty close…” Spike said regretfully.

“And then you go and ditch my birthday party,” Moondancer said archly.

Spike shied away at the accusation. She had meant it playfully, but it was true enough that it still stung to hear.

“I really meant to go,” he said. “I even bought you a birthday present and everything… but then Celestia sent us to Ponyville for the Summer Sun Celebration, and Twilight was freaking out over Nightmare Moon, and then she got assigned to study the Magic of Friendship…”

Spike sighed heavily. “A lot of things happened for Twilight very quickly, and I had to be there for her…”

“…and we just drifted apart…” Moondancer finished for him.

Spike looked into Moondancer’s face and tried to read her expression.

She was a very attractive girl, in a lot of ways. Her features were very pleasant, of course, but the most appealing thing about her looks was the sheer expressiveness of her face. Everything – every thought and emotion – made her face scrunch or her eyes light up in some tell-tale way. The bridge of her nose crinkled when she was trying to remember something, and when she was working out a math problem, her lips puckered like she was going to blow a raspberry.

Other times – like now – her face was an uncharacteristically blank slate, except for the corner of her mouth on the left side, which tightened up into half of something that was not-quite-a-frown. Spike still didn’t know what that expression meant, but he’d seen it once or twice over the years, and relatively often these last few days.

“It’s kind of funny when you think about it,” she said, seemingly unaware that Spike had been staring at her. “Twilight goes off to learn about how important friendship is, and you give up your own friendships to follow her.”

Spike opened his mouth to protest that, but the reply died in his throat. It stung to hear it put so clinically, but she was right.

“She needed me,” Spike said, hoping it would suffice as an excuse. “I love my sister, and she needed me.”

“I understand,” Moondancer said simply.

They walked along the crowded street, neither noticing that the distance between them had closed as the nature of their talk became more serious. They were now nearly shoulder to shoulder, occasionally brushing against one another as they as they moved through the crowd. If any of the other pedestrians had overheard any of their conversation, or cared about the somber nature of it, they didn’t show it.

Moondancer stopped, holding Spike back with an outstretched hoof to his chest. She tilted her head in the direction of a café at the other end of the street. A well-dressed unicorn stallion was sitting at an outdoor table, reading the newspaper and using his magic to swirl a spoon lazily in his tea. Across from him sat an equally well-dressed unicorn mare.

They watched, barely containing a fit of giggles, as the fancy mare surreptitiously upended a helping from the salt shaker into her companion’s tea. The stallion levitated the cup to his lips – his gaze never leaving the print – and sipped gingerly. He spit his drink out the moment the salty brew registered on his tongue, the spray soaking his paper and dribbling down his chin, staining his lily-white cravat.

Spike and Moondancer laughed heartily, drawing the attention of the mare and stallion in question. The stallion scowled at them, but his prankster companion smiled, gave a dramatic little bow of her head, and sipped her own unpranked tea.

“Kind of puts it all in perspective,” Spike said between gasps of laughter.

“What does that mean?” Moondancer wheezed.

“I don’t know!” Spike admitted with renewed laughter. “I just thought that might sound profound!”

Moondancer redoubled her own laughter, locking her joints so she wouldn’t tip over in the dirty street as her body shook with every giggle.

A rumble in Spike’s stomach became a belch of fire that splattered against the street and resolved itself into a scroll that sat at his feet. Several pedestrians that witnessed the act gave him funny looks but continued along as though nothing had happened. He picked up the scroll, which he noted was bound with a velvet ribbon and bore Twilight’s official seal, and put it into his satchel to read later.

She was probably just checking up on him.

* * *

The pair of friends had been strolling for a while, enjoying the air of early morning Canterlot as it transitioned into noon. The altitude of the city meant that was always a refreshing breeze blowing through the streets, keeping them cool and energized despite the exercise.

“You know, I think I’ve already changed my mind,” Moondancer said suddenly.

“You don’t say?”

Moondancer gave Spike a sidelong glare. He was smirking in that self-satisfied way he did when he was cracking wise.

“Okay, now what’s that supposed to mean?” she asked in annoyance.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” he replied, intensifying the satisfaction of his smirk.

“Oh no, you’re not shrugging this off,” Moondancer said accusatorily, her tail flicking around frantically. “That was some kind of sexist joke wasn’t it? What’re you trying to say? That mares are indecisive? That we change our minds at the drop of a hat? Is it?”

Spike continued walking, never breaking his stride, calmly smirking even as Moondancer’s voice rose in pitch.

“That doesn’t sound at all like the kind of thing I’d imply,” Spike answered as he laced his claws together behind his head nonchalantly. “So what were you changing your mind about? Taking the day off or about not doing any shopping?”

Moondancer’s ears folded back and her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “The shopping,” she said. “Walking around is fun and all, but I just got the urge to stop by the bookstore.”

“Bookstore sounds great!” Spike said cheerfully. He sped up his gait and double timed it to the bookstore with Moondancer following.

“You’re being very cheeky today,” Moondancer pointed out once she’d walked off some of her indignation. “Veeeeery cheeky.”

Spike shrugged. “I’m just in a good mood,” he explained. “I’m having fun, aren’t you having fun?”

“Oh, um, well,” Moondancer stuttered giddily. “I mean, I already told you earlier that I was having fun, but I didn’t know if you were having fun, too, since you didn’t say it back or anything. All we’ve really done is study and work on my project…”

“And it’s been a great time,” Spike said. “Everything’s better with a good friend by your side.”

Spike watched as Moondancer blushed heavily, hiding her face behind her voluminous mane. She was the only mare he knew who sported longer hair than Fluttershy, but it was very unlike Moondancer to hide behind her mane in the way Fluttershy did. Spike had to admit that the unicorn looked pretty cute ducking behind that thick red curtain.

With Moondancer hiding behind her hair, and Spike watching Moondancer hiding behind her hair, neither of them noticed the sign standing in front of the bookstore until it was too late. Moondancer walked straight into it, crashing to the ground with a mild curse and the clatter of wood as the signage followed her down.

“Whoa, are you okay, Moondancer?” Spike asked in concern as he pulled the sandwich board off his friend.

“I’m good!” she announced quickly, jumping to her hooves and blushing even brighter. She looked around at the faces of the crowd that had witnessed her tumble – some were concerned, some frowning in distaste, but most just smiling with a sense of Schadenfreude.

Spike unfolded the legs of the sign and returned it to its proper place.

“Ohmigawsh!” Moondancer exclaimed as she pushed Spike aside roughly. “The new Wonderbolts biography is out!”

Spike peered around her and read the sign. Sure enough, it announced a new book all about the current Wonderbolts team. Rainbow Dash had been bragging about it all last year, starting after she’d been approached by the author for an interview. Dash had even somehow managed to talk the publisher into letting her write something for it, so it would definitely be worth a read just to find out what she’d written about herself, even if it was as heavily edited as he suspected it would have to be.

The pit fell out of his stomach as his eyes reached the bottom of the advertisement.

“Wow! ‘Special signing by a member of the world famous Wonderbolts, today only’!?” she read excitedly. “Come on, Spike! Let’s go meet a Wonderbolt!”

Spike felt his hand being pulled by the gentle, yet unyielding, force of Moondancer’s magical grip as she led him into the store and through the gathered throng of Wonderbolts fans. He closed his eyes in worry and swallowed hard.

“Please be Spitfire, please be Spitfire, please be Spitfire,” Spike chanted under his breath.

“Hey, it’s Spitfire!” Moondancer shouted gleefully as the firey-maned pegaus came into view just beyond the crowd.

“Oh, thank Celestia…” Spike said, sighing in relief.

“And she brought Rainbow Dash with her!”

Spike began screaming inside his head – at the top of his imaginary lungs – and not everything he was screaming would have been polite to say aloud.

“Hey, did you just hear somepony screaming internally?” Moondancer asked curiously.

Spike’s response was cut short as he heard Rainbow Dash’s voice booming over the din of excited autograph-seekers.

“Okay, okay, okay!” she shouted, hovering just a little above the table so she could be seen by the crowd. “No shoving, y’hear? You’ll all have the chance to shake hooves with me: world-renowned flying ace, fastest flier in the world, and now published author, Rainbow Dash!”

Spike groaned painfully into his hand. Rainbow Dash was one of the ponies he least wanted to see on his trip to Canterlot.

“Come on, Spike, aren’t you excited to meet real live Wonderbolts?” Moondancer asked when she noticed him sighing into his own palm.

“I already know the Wonderbolts,” Spike said tiredly. “And Rainbow Dash is a friend of mine. She and I both have seats on the Council of Friendship back in Ponyville.”

“Come on, Spike, aren’t you at least a little excited to meet me?”

Spike spun around so quickly that he lost his balance. His feet caught up on each other and he tumbled backwards onto his tail. Rainbow Dash hovered above him with a wide grin on her face. The crowd had spread out a bit to give her some room, giving the assembled ponies a good chuckle at his expense.

“Dash!” he exclaimed a he jumped to his feet. “Fancy meeting you here!”

“Yeah, real fancy,” Rainbow Dash said wryly. “Who would’ve guessed that you’d ever find me at my own book signing?”

“Oh, wow, you’re Rainbow Dash!” Moondancer shouted, no longer able to hold back her enthusiasm at being so close to an honest-to-Celestia celebrity.

“Yeah, hey,” Rainbow Dash said with a nod and a smile. “You were talking to Spike just now, right? You a friend of his?”

Moondancer nodded vigorously. “Yup! Old school friends! We practically grew up together! My name’s Moondancer, by the way. Sorry I didn’t say that first, but sometimes I forget really incidental stuff like that.”

“Oh, well, nice to meet you,” Rainbow Dash said as she began to walk away from the crowd, gesturing for Spike and Moondancer to follow. “So, uh, Spike, what’s up?”

She led them to a somewhat secluded spot, away from prying eyes or ears. She had asked Spitfire to cover the crowd for her as soon as she’d caught Spike’s name over the ruckus of their fans, and she trusted her captain would be able to hold the crowd’s attention.

“What do you mean?” Spike asked nervously as they followed Rainbow Dash into the deserted History aisle.

Something in Spike’s tone and the way he was walking set off alarms in Rainbow Dash’s head. Her eyes narrowed as suspicious little thoughts began fluttering around in her brain.

“I’m asking why you’re in Canterlot,” she pressed.

“What, I can’t come to Canterlot?” he asked.

“Sure, it’s a free country, I guess,” Rainbow Dash replied. “But I’m asking about specifics. Is there any specific reason for it?”

“It’s a vacation, Dash,” he said. “I just had to get out of Ponyville for a while.”

Rainbow Dash’s gaze moved to Moondancer. The unicorn’s excited smile had disappeared and she was now watching the two friends that seemed to be right on the verge of having an argument of some kind.

“Vacation, eh?” Dash restated as she continued sizing Moondancer up. She turned back to Spike and gave him a withering glare. “You talk to Scootaloo lately?”

Spike went rigid and he began to lightly perspire.

“A few days ago, yeah,” Spike answered, hoping that Rainbow Dash wouldn’t press further, but knowing that the jig was probably up.

“Moondancer, you said?” Rainbow Dash asked suddenly, her head snapping around to look the unicorn in the eyes. “Why don’t you go and get a free copy of the book from Spitfire? Tell her you’re a friend of mine and she’ll hook you up.”

“Sure…” Moondancer said as she slowly began backing away. She turned and began walking back to the crowd, pausing only to look back and make sure Spike wasn’t asking her to stay.

“Alright, let’s cut the crap,” Rainbow Dash hissed sharply once Moondancer was out of earshot. “She told you, didn’t she?”

Spike folded his arms over his chest and scowled. “And who is ‘she’ in this line of questioning?”

“You know who,” Rainbow Dash snapped. “She told you. I know she did. I won’t say it first, in case I’m wrong, but we both know I’m not wrong.”

“You’re asking if Scootaloo told me that she liked me?” Spike asked by way of clarification. “Yeah, she told me.”

“I’m going to go ahead and assume that you shot her down,” Dash said. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be running around with Little Miss Big Hair over there – no offense to her.”

Spike uncrossed his arms and huffed a few sparks of fire out of his nostrils indignantly. Most ponies would be nervous or put-off by the display, but Rainbow Dash wasn’t most ponies.

“Not that it’s any of your business what goes on between me and Scootaloo,” he said tersely, “but I didn’t give her an answer yet. I said I needed time to think so I came to Canterlot for a few days.”

“Yeah, I can see what you’ve been thinking about,” she said as she poked her head out of the aisle. Moondancer had made her way to the front of the crowd and was getting her picture taken with Spitfire.

“It’s not like that,” Spike protested. “Not even a little bit. Moondancer’s just an old friend from when I used to go to school here. I don’t feel that way about her, and she doesn’t feel that way about me. I just bumped into her in the library on campus and offered to help her with a research project, that’s all.”

“That’s all?” Rainbow Dash asked, not fully buying the story yet.

“Seriously, that’s all,” Spike said firmly. “I just wanted something to keep occupied with so I could clear my head some.”

“Clear your head?” Rainbow Dash repeated. “I thought you came here to think.”

“I just needed some time, okay? Is that alright with you? Do I have your permission to give serious thought to my own relationships?” he asked sarcastically as he tried to walk past her. One of Rainbow Dash’s wings rose up and barred his path.

“Sounds to me like you’re just running away,” Rainbow Dash said. She leaned in closer, her voice softening as she spoke from the heart. “Come on, Spike, just talk to me.”

Spike clenched his hands at his sides until he could feel the prick of his claws trying to break through the relatively soft scales of his palms.

“I got scared, alright?” Spike said. “When Scootaloo said she liked me, it felt good – confusing as heck, but really good. I liked that she liked me. She’s a great friend, and she’s really cute, and funny, and I’m attracted to her… but…”

“But Rarity, right…?”

Spike flinched. She’d gotten right to the root of it.

“Of course you know,” Spike whispered sadly as he looked away. “Everypony knows. You, Twilight, Rarity… even Scootaloo knows, I’m sure of it. The last time I saw her, when I told her I needed time, there was something in her face that told me she knew.”

“You did kind of a lousy job hiding it,” Rainbow Dash said, smiling sympathetically.

He feigned interest in a misaligned scale on his bicep. He dug at it, trying to work it back into place, before flicking it away with a sigh.

“Five years, Dash…” he said. “It’s hard to give her up after five years… I know she doesn’t want me like that, but some stupid part of me wants to keep waiting for her.”

Rainbow Dash sat heavily on her haunches and rubbed at the back of her neck uncomfortably.

“That, uh… sounds complicated…” she said sympathetically.

“Feels it, too,” he chuckled weakly. “Maybe you’re right, though, maybe I have been running away from it. But it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want to say yes to Scootaloo if I can’t work out my feelings for Rarity first. It wouldn’t be fair to her.”

Rainbow Dash groaned in exasperation and scanned their surroundings to make sure they were still alone. She pulled her little dragon friend into a hug and rubbed his back soothingly.

“I’m sorry I came down on you,” she said. “I’m just really worried about you and Scoots. You guys are like family to me, and I was seriously doing backflips when I heard she had a crush on you, no foolin’.”

“You’re pushing for us to get together, huh?” Spike laughed, squeezing her back and enjoying the hug.

“Big guy, if you two get married I’m going to make a Sonic Rainboom so big that it’ll make the one I did at Cadance and Shining’s wedding look like a bottle rocket,” she declared confidently.

“I might say yes just to see that!”

She released her friend and leaned back, smoothing out her coat where he’d pressed against her chest.

“Only if you’re sure it’s what you really want,” she told him seriously. “You were right. This isn’t something you should rush into, and that’s coming from somepony that rushes into everything. Just don’t make her wait too long. An awesome chick like Scoots won’t be on the market forever.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Spike said.

“Also,” she added, “don’t tell nopony I hugged you. If the fans get wind that I’m giving away hugs they’ll start a riot.”

“Noted,” he grinned.

Spike held out a fist and Dash quickly bumped her hoof against it hard enough to sting his knuckles.

“Think we should get back in there?” he asked as he looked back into the lobby of the bookstore. “I’m sure Moondancer would love for you to sign her book.”

The mare in question had conjured up a marker and presentation board and was giving the assembled crowd a dry-looking lecture on supersonic aerodynamics. Spitfire seemed interested, but several of the younger fans were dangerously close to falling asleep on their hooves.

“Yeah, let’s go rescue my fans from your mistress,” Rainbow Dash quipped dryly.

“She’s not my mistress!” Spike declared. “I told you, we’re just friends. Life isn’t like one of those weird foreign plays that Pinkie likes where the boring, emotionally-detached main character builds a herd of underaged schoolfillies!”

“You have to admit, though,” Rainbow Dash said with a waggle of her eyebrows, “life would be a lot easier if it was.”

“You know, I’m not so sure about that…”

A young colt at the back of the crowd tipped over, dead asleep, landing with a soft thud against the carpet.

* * *

Rarity was tired. More than tired, she was exhausted.

She would never admit it, but despite only being in her mid-twenties, she felt at least twice that these days. She simply wasn’t the young, endlessly energetic filly she was just a few short years ago.

It didn’t help that she’d just come off the tail end of the fashion tour. Three cities in three days: Vanhoover, Las Pegasus, and finally Manehattan. Vanhoover had been an odd choice, but apparently the Northern territories were doing some fabulous things with Cashmere and that had been enough of a draw for the committee putting on the show.

After nearly seventy-two hours of whirlwind fashion and excitement, on top of the nearly two weeks of all-nighters she’d pulled leading up to the event, all she wanted was to lay down in her hotel room and sleep for a few days. She had anticipated her own weariness and need for a respite, and had booked accordingly. Given the situation back home, the extra few days she’d planned to stay were quite fortuitous.

But none of that mattered in the face of the two ponies dragging her up to the doors of Lé Chic Poné, the hottest new nightclub in Manehattan. It was nearing midnight, but the downtown crowds were out in full force for another evening of excess and revelry. A line of ponies stretched around the block trying to get into the club. They jostled one another and fidgeted on sore hooves waiting for the line to move, tiring themselves out so much that by the time they got inside – if they got inside – they wouldn’t even really get to enjoy it much.

It was exactly the kind of crowd that Rarity wanted to avoid.

“Really, girls,” Rarity whined as she tried to resist the tug of Fleur Dis Lee’s magic and the gentle nudges of Coco Pommel. “If you want to drink that badly we can do that back at my hotel room.”

“We can drink in your room if you want,” Fleur said mischievously. “But first we’re drinking here. Come on, good music, cute stallions and mares to ogle, overpriced drinks – it’s got everything!”

“You really do need this,” Coco said, cosigning Fleur’s sentiments. “You’ve been so mopey this whole tour.”

“We’ve been very busy,” Rarity explained to try and deflect any questions as to what had gotten her ‘mopey’.

“Whatever you say, Rara,” Fleur said. “The tour’s finally over so let’s just get in there and unwind. I swear you two are the only designers that don’t have their heads up their own butts.”

Coco and Rarity shared a laugh at that. Fleur was becoming legendary for her dislike of the vast majority of the designers she worked with. Most of the time it became a clash of wills, and Fleur always seemed to come out on top. There was a lot of talk around the design community about blackballing the silly mare, but being the most gorgeous, most popular model in the industry gave her enough clout that nopony dared to be the first.

“You do know that’s what most of the other designers say about you, right?” Coco pointed out.

“Yes, well, they can all go and suck themselves off,” Fleur declared crudely.

“Even the mares?” Rarity asked, finally giving in and allowing herself to be guided past the ponies lined up against the far-end of the sidewalk.

“Especially the mares!” Fleur declared to the heavens. She snorted, gathering phlegm to spit on the ground in contempt, but suddenly remembered she was in public and swallowed it down. “You guys are the only ones doing anything exciting in the industry. Off the runway, I wouldn’t be caught dead in anything those nags made.”

“If you intend to flatter me into compliance,” Rarity began with a smirk, “I feel I must warn you that it will only work four of five more times tonight.”

“Then we’ll have to use them wisely,” Fleur said.

They made their way to the front of the line, ignoring the angry glares from the ponies waiting in the crowd. Popularity equated to exclusivity in a establishment like this, and that meant the average pony on the street would be lucky to even see the front of the line, let alone the inside of the building.

“Shouldn’t we be getting in line?” Coco asked timidly, withering under the scrutiny of the crowd she’d only just noticed.

Rarity and Fleur both turned to her and gave her the same disbelieving look. Coco had only recently come up and really made a name for herself, and she still wasn’t very comfortable with the idea of fame, let alone the perks of it.

Rarity watched as Fleur led the way again, letting all traces of the coal-miner’s daughter that she was fall away, leaving only her otherworldly grace and beauty. She radiated disinterest and haughtiness from every inch of her body as she strode up to the pegasus standing guard at the front of the line. A black velvet rope barred entry to the hopeful clubkids waiting their turns, but what really enforced the pegasus’ will was the pair of musclebound earthponies standing on either side of him. Fleur ignored them like they weren’t even there and focused on the one staring down at the clipboard.

Rarity knew exactly what was going through the model’s mind. Coco may have been a little out of her comfort zone, but Rarity and Fleur had been to enough clubs over the years that they could take the measure of this bouncer with a glance. Everything about him, from the way he stood, to the way he stared in disinterest at the obviously blank paperwork, spoke of a stallion who felt that he was the monarch of his own red-carpeted kingdom.

Hopefully Fleur wouldn’t let things get too out of hoof.

“We’d like to come in,” Fleur said confidently, her voice taking on the sultry tones that befitted a world-class fashion model.

“That’s nice,” the stallion said without looking up from the clipboard. “Back of the line with the rest of the floozies.”

“We’re on the list,” she said without wavering.

“Nopony’s on the list,” he stated simply. “Now get back there before I have you tossed into a gutter.”

Rarity sucked air through her teeth with a quiet, “Ooooo,” of sympathy. Things were about to get ugly, alright. She found this sort of exchange distasteful, but she knew that it was a part of Fleur’s public image to cause a scene like this. And this fellow was being very rude…

Fleur slapped the clipboard out of his hooves and stepped onto the blank pages. The stallion’s head snapped up, his eyes alight with anger and the order to have them escorted away already on his lips, but he gasped as he realized whom he was speaking with.

“Fleur Dis Lee is always on the list,” she stated smugly. She allowed herself a barely perceptible upturn of the corners of her mouth – not even enough to qualify as a smirk – in satisfaction.

Some of the crowd that had been glaring daggers at the trio of presumptuous line-cutters began to murmur as recognition dawned on them.

“Miss Dis Lee!” the bouncer exclaimed. “Please, come right in! I see Miss Rarity is also with you, and I believe this is…?”

“That’s Coco Pommel, you dim-thing, you,” Fleur giggled coldly. “You must be new, to not recognize one of the hottest young designers in Equestria.”

“Of course, of course,” he nodded sycophantically. “It’s my business to know all the important ponies!”

He removed the rope and waved them through as the two enforcers stepped aside for them.

Fleur ran a hoof seductively over the chest of one of the large earthponies and flicked her tail against the nose of his partner.

“You boys keep doing a good job,” she said.

They stepped into the coat check room of the club, where a pair of inner doors drowned out the sound of thumping bass. Fleur waved for her companions to stop and pressed her ear to the door. A few seconds later she heard the barked order to eject whatever pony was dumb enough to try to repeat her stunt.

“Isn’t that a little unfair?” Coco asked sheepishly. “That we get in just because we’re famous?”

“Please,” Fleur said with a roll of her eyes. “There has to be some sort of perks to being in an industry that forces us to work alongside the likes of Prim Hemline. That crone is getting more short-tempered and unbearable every year.”

“It still feels wrong to throw our weight around like that…” Coco muttered. “I’ve seen you be snippy before, but you were really rude to that guy....”

Fleur scoffed at the girl’s naiveté. “He started it. That stallion out there is used to treating other ponies much worse than I treated him. He’s just another puffed up little colt with fake-authority, waving it everypony’s faces. Guys like that need to be put in their place sometimes.”

“I do agree that she was a bit rough, Coco, darling,” Rarity said with a flip of her mane. “But please understand that it’s expected of a star of Fleur’s caliber to be at least a little temperamental. It’s a part of her public image.”

Coco sighed and nodded. “If you guys say so, but I don’t think I’ll get used to that.”

Fleur gave her meek friend a quick nuzzle of affection – which earned her a blush from the younger girl – and led the way through the double-doors and into the club.

The trio was immediately assaulted by the driving beats emanating from the speakers on the raised stage at the front of the club, where a unicorn stallion with an icy-blue coat worked the crowd of clubbers, making them writhe and sway at his command. They were packed in tighter than a bushel of apples in one of Applejack’s storage barrels, and Rarity felt a little claustrophobic just looking at them all.

Fleur ignored the dance floor and wound her way through the couches and booths where sweaty dancers were catching their breath, drinking, making out, or some combination of the three. She approached another roped off area with a small sign that read ‘VIP Only’ in bright, glittery lettering. A unicorn guard looked at them over his sunglasses and smiled in recognition of the group. He moved the rope to admit them and waved a waitress down.

Fleur gave the guard a flirty kiss on the cheek while Rarity whispered their drink orders into the waitress’ ear. The VIP area of the club was segregated into booths, with numbered curtains at the entrances made of the same heavy, black velvet as the ropes the bouncers stood behind. Fleur walked into one of the rooms and waited for Coco and Rarity to join her before closing the curtain. The cloth slid into place with a whisper, its enchantments lowering the volume of the DJ’s music to a conversation-friendly level.

“Ah, thank Celestia, alone at last,” Fleur sighed as she threw herself onto the cushions around the low table in the center of the room. She lifted a leg and scratched her inner thigh rudely. The dim mood lighting did very little to conceal her modesty. “Damned synthetic fibers! Rarity, you’ve got an in with all of the princesses. Do me a favor and have whoever invented spandex imprisoned. I think I might be allergic to the stuff, and it’s murder on my delicate thighs.”

“I’ll be sure to bring it up at the next Council of Friendship meeting, but in the meantime, do show a little restraint, dear,” Rarity said with a disapproving cluck of her tongue. Behind her, Coco was blushing and pointedly trying not to watch where Fleur’s hoof was.

“Oh, who cares?” Fleur laughed. “It’s just us. Don’t you get tired of the games? The artifice of high society and fashion is so tedious. At least I can be myself around you girls.”

Rarity took a seat across from Fleur, while Coco walked around and sat between them with her back to the wall.

“What a funny thing to hear from you – a pony who plays the game so well,” Rarity said with a smirk.

“Playing it well and enjoying it are two different things,” Fleur scoffed. She sat up and leaned against the table wearily. “This fashion jazz is hardly what I thought it’d be when I was a filly.”

The waitress, a cute little pegasus, came in carrying a drink tray on one outstretched wing. She set their drinks down and left without a word.

“I’m starting to get what you mean,” Coco sighed. She picked up her fruity drink and downed half of the tall glass in a single gulp. It was more ice and fruit juice than alcohol, but the act was impressive none the less.

“I love making clothes,” she continued, “but some of the ponies we have to deal with are just… urgh, so infuriating. You were talking about Prim Hemline earlier, and do you know what I overheard her say? She said that my stitching looked like it was done by a foal with nerve damage. Did you see that mango-colored thing she trotted out in? The only thing more crooked than that neckline was her teeth.”

Fleur and Rarity shared an amused glance.

“It would seem that Fleur and I weren’t the only ones that needed to unwind,” Rarity said with a snicker as she sampled her wine.

Coco blinked. She quickly ducked behind the tall glass, maneuvering the little paper umbrella in a pathetic attempt to give herself some cover.

“I’m sorry,” Coco said. “I have no idea where that came from.”

Fleur scooted closer, her martini floating magically after her, and draped an arm over Coco. “It’s okay. It’s just us, right?”

“Yes, darling,” Rarity agreed with a kind smile. “Safe space. You can say anything to us.”

“Speaking of,” Fleur said, lifting her eyes slowly to look at Rarity. She removed her arm from Coco’s shoulders and pointed her hoof at Rarity, drawing little circles in the air as she homed in her focus. “Now that we’re alone, how about you tell us what’s been eating you?”

Rarity made a rude noise with her lips and levitated a menu of drink specials for closer inspection. “I’ve no idea what you mean, Fleur. I assure you nothing has been ‘eating me’ aside from the same stress the two of you have been dealing with.”

Coco sat up straight, unconsciously snuggling a little closer to Fleur. “That’s not true – something’s been going on with you. I’ve seen you work under pressure before and these last few days you’ve been really distracted. It’s like your mind was a million miles away.”

“Agreed,” Fleur said. “I think we’ve gotten to know each other pretty well these last few years, and I can tell when you’re forcing a smile for the cameras.”

“It’s nothing!” Rarity insisted forcefully. She slammed the plastic sign back to the table with a loud clack. She took a deep breath and rubbed at her temple to soothe the painful twinge heralding an oncoming headache. “It’s nothing…” she repeated, much more softly.

The trio sat in silence for a while. Rarity didn’t how to break the ice after her outburst, and was grateful for the quiet moment. The music flittering in from the dance floor changed from one bass-line into another, with a new singer’s sampled voice warbling something inscrutably distorted by the track.

Rarity suddenly found herself at the bottom of her glass. She wasn’t sure how she’d gotten there, but the warm feeling in her stomach and the looseness in her limbs told her that she’d probably drunk her way down.

She flipped a light switch on the wall with a flicker of magic, turning on a light outside the room that would summon a waitress with refills.

Another minute or so passed and the waitress came with three fresh drinks. She took away the empty glasses and asked if they wanted anything else. They all signaled they were fine, so she left.

“I’m so very sorry,” Rarity said at last. “I had no right to snap like that. I’m ever so stressed and simply tired of being asking what’s wrong with me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Fleur said with a wave. “If you really don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to. Just remember that stallion troubles get the better of all of us every once in a while.”

“What!? Who said anything about stallions!?”

“Well, what else would it be?” Fleur asked as she swished her drink knowingly.

“Stallions are the worst,” Coco said. She traced the lip of her glass with a hoof, sighing longingly. “Sometimes I think I should just give up on them and just stick with mares.”

Fleur’s ears perked up at that suggestion. “Uh… you don’t say…?”

Rarity raised an eyebrow as Fleur’s beautiful coat tinged with just a little color. Coco’s comment had thrown Fleur off guard, and Rarity could very easily say something that would shift focus from herself at this moment.

She looked into her glass and sighed. Despite how standoffish she’d been the last few days, she did feel the need to speak to somepony about her problem. Maybe not give the whole story, but at least enough to get an opinion or two. An idea came to mind, and she decided to test the waters. If she was lucky, they’d be too distracted by each other and too impaired by the drinks to put two and two together.

“Did you girls see Prim Hemline leave the theater?” she asked cautiously.

“Oh my gosh, yes,” Coco said, leaning forward and whispering conspiratorially. “Did you see who she took home tonight? I never knew she was that sort of mare.”

“I did see!” Fleur said with a gasp. “He’s with my agency. New boy. Very fresh young face. He probably doesn’t even have all of his grown-up teeth.”

“What would she even do with a guy that young?”

Fleur waved her hooves as though she were telling the spooky part of a campfire story, and said in a haunting voice: “Wooooooo~ She’s probably got him tied to the hotel bed so she can suck the life-force from his body, all so that she may live another decade.”

“She’s sucking something out of him, alright,” Coco suggested.

Fleur and Coco laughed at the off-color joke while Rarity stared on, forcing a polite smile. It was very unlike Coco to joke like that, but she supposed that alcohol and the memories of Prim’s harsh criticisms worked together to bring out the worst in the girl. Or maybe it was the subject that brought out some deep seated contempt for ‘that sort of mare’.

“So you think it’s wrong of her to seek out younger lovers,” Rarity said evenly.

“Well, it’s not wrong,” Fleur said airily, mistaking Rarity’s words for a question. “He’s at least old enough to say no. It wouldn’t be good for his career to turn her down, but it’s still his choice. As for her, well… younger stallions have their uses, just like older stallions have theirs.”

“It does come with a bit of a stigma attached, though,” Coco suggested. “What do they call mares like that? Cougars?”

Fleur nodded vigorously. “They certainly do! They’re called Cougars because they’re great big, tough old pussies that go around gobbling up the fresh young morsels!”

Fleur added to her assessment by mewling cattishly and tickling the youngest of their group. The two mares began giggling and play fighting, their hooves darting forward to jab at any undefended tickle spots.

Rarity wasn’t sure whether the alcohol they’d consumed was the cause of, or merely an aid to, the exchange, but she looked away and kept quiet, leaving them to their flirtations.

This was what she’d been afraid of – what had held her back these last few years. She had been afraid of what everypony would say if she had decided to pursue things with the little dragon.

Coco and Fleur were very good friends of hers, and in private, no two ponies cared less about appearances as long as it didn’t affect their careers. Even still, when presented with a mare whose tastes leaned towards younger companions, their first instincts were to ridicule and laugh.

Of course, being her friends, they would be supportive of any choice she made – but in private, just the two of them sitting together over drinks, would they feel the urge to make jokes? Would they snigger behind her back?

And her friends back home… they would likely be more than supportive, they’d be openly happy for her. But in the back of their minds what would they think? Over the years, Spike had become as much of a little brother to the group as he was to Twilight. What would they really think of her becoming romantically involved with the boy they had, on more than one occasion, found asleep in a punch bowl, curled up with a comic book? Would they be able to separate that image in their minds from one of him curled up in her arms, in a bed that they shared?

She lifted her glass and tilted it to her mouth. A single droplet of wine touched her lips and vanished. It wasn’t even enough to swallow.

She was about to flip the switch for more drinks when the curtain opened and the waitress appeared, as though reading her mind. She looked over and noticed that the light had already been turned on. Fleur and Coco were sitting together closely, both a little red in the face and panting slightly, with empty glasses in front of them.

The waitress did her thing and left.

“You okay, Rara?” Fleur asked.

Coco set down her glass and wiped her mouth with a cocktail napkin. The fruity drink was immediately picked up by Fleur, who sampled it thirstily, but Coco didn’t seem to mind.

“You checked out for a minute,” Coco said. “Thinking about stuff?”

Rarity shifted uncomfortably on her cushions. A few moments of consideration and she decided to try coming at the issue from another angle.

“Well, I was just thinking how strange it was,” she said. “How nopony bats an eye when a stallion takes a much younger lover. But if a mare does it, it’s… well, something to be poked fun at.”

“I guess I never thought much about it,” Fleur said, scratching under her chin. “It is a little silly, I suppose, but it’s just the way things are.”

“Yes, but why?” Rarity asked almost desperately.

Coco reached for Fleur’s martini and tried it. Her face screwed up in distaste, so she settled for pulling the olive out with her tongue and eating it.

“I always thought it was because fillies mature so much faster than colts,” Coco said as she chewed. “I mean, who was your first crush? I bet it wasn’t the colt in the back row that picked his nose and cared more about hoofball cards than personal hygiene. It was probably somepony older and interesting.”

“That makes sense,” Fleur said, nodding sagely. “It also is kind of a status thing for a stallion to have a hot young filly by his side.”

“But in the end age doesn’t really matter,” Coco said. “Everypony matures differently. It’s only the social perception that makes it weird.”

“Right,” Fleur said with a nod. “The social perception being that stallions are expected to be big dumb horny idiots looking for a barely matured sex-doll, and mares are supposed to be above all that.”

“But you’re just talking about sex,” Rarity pointed out. “What about love?”

Fleur scoffed into her martini. “Rara, really. Everything is about sex.”

Rarity held a hoof to her chest in aghast. “You can’t mean that, darling. Love is more than just a tickle in your loins.”

“I don’t even know what I mean anymore,” Fleur groaned as she eyed her once again empty glass. Somehow their drinks were emptying faster as the night progressed. “How many of these have we even had?”

“Three,” Coco supplied helpfully. Her tongue flicked against the inside of her own glass for the last bits of iced liquor clinging to the sides.

“Really?” Fleur asked. She pointed to the table in front of her at the two olives from her previous drinks. “I only count two olives.”

“I ate one.”

“What? But that’s the whole point of drinking martinis! So you can have the olives to count after you’re done to see how drunk you are!”

Coco snorted in amusement. “Doesn’t your drunkenness tell you how drunk you are?”

“You can’t trust your perception of how drunk you are when you’re drunk, silly girl,” Fleur chuckled. She stood from her seat and nodded towards the curtain. “I’m too buzzed to not be shaking it on the dance floor. Come on, girls, let’s go knock the walls down.”

“You go on ahead,” Rarity said. “I’m too tired for dancing. But do me a favor, if you’d be so kind, and send the waitress in with another of these.” She levitated her nearly empty glass and waved it in demonstration.

On their way out of the booth, her companions had a playful shoving match over the two olives on the table that ended with them each winning one of the prizes. The music picked up for the fraction of a second it took for the barrier to admit Coco and Fleur back into the club proper, and returned to its dimmed levels once the curtain slid back into place.

Rarity downed the last of her wine and levitated all three empty glasses to give the table a quick wipe down with a cocktail napkin. She dropped the glassware at the end of the table closest to the entryway, and set her head down to wait for her fourth drink.

Rarity was tired. More than tired, she was exhausted. She felt old – much too old for the affections of a young suitor like Spike. He deserved somepony younger, somepony who wasn’t such a damned coward.

She tapped impatiently at the table out of need for something to do with her hooves. As her irritation grew, she began to flip the switch repeatedly, hoping that it would make the waitress move a little quicker with her alcohol.

* * *

It was a cheerful early morning that found Moondancer trotting down the street with a scowl on her face and murder on her mind. Other pedestrians stepped out of the fuming unicorn’s way as she stormed her way through the Upper District. The potion ingredients they’d acquired the day before jingled, merrily indifferent to her mood, from within the saddlebags on her back.

“When I get my hooves on that dragon,” she muttered darkly. “Leave me waiting for you all morning in the science building, will you…?”

She turned a corner and increased her pace as Spike’s house came into view.

“Ooooh, you’re gunna get it, Mister,” she growled as she stepped up to the door and rapped it a few times with a hoof.

She strained her ears but didn’t hear any kind of movement from inside. The seconds ticked by and she knocked again, louder this time.

She took a few steps backwards and looked up to an open window. “Spike!” she shouted. “Are you still asleep!?”

Moondancer sat on the ground and stared up at the open window, waiting for the dragon to pop his head out, rubbing at his eyes blearily, apologizing profusely for making her wait for him. But he didn’t appear, even after she shouted several more times and went back to the door for another round of knocking.

Her anger was quickly being replaced with concern. Spike was a heavy sleeper, but this was a little much, even for him.

She stood on the front step and raised a hoof to try knocking again, but thought better of it and tried the knob with a twist of her magic. The knob turned and the door opened. The sound of it creaking as it swung into semi-darkness sent a shiver up her spine, despite the warmth of the early-morning sunshine.

“Spike?” she called out. She hit the light switch as she set her bags down and kicked the door closed.

She found Spike sitting alone in the living room. He was slumped deeply into the high-backed chair near the fireplace, his eyes fixed unblinking on a slip of parchment held loosely in his claws. She recognized it from the ribbon as the scroll he’d burped up the day before. A lone reading lamp cast a very soft light onto Spike’s chair from its place on the mantle, and in the hearth were the cold remnants of the previous night’s fire.

She pushed her way past discarded spoons and empty ice cream tubs, and poked her friend in the shoulder. He grunted at the contact, but made no other move to acknowledge her.

“Spike, are you okay?” she asked in concern.

He held the scroll out for her without looking up. She took it with her magic and started reading.

“There’s this girl back in Ponyville…” he said in a tight, dry voice. He cleared his throat and rubbed at his eyes wearily. “Her name’s Rarity. I’ve kind of had something for her for a while now…”

Moondancer climbed onto the couch and listened to Spike’s tale. She listened to him talk about Rarity – about the crush he’d held for years, and about his frustrated devotion to the mare, who had always seemed content to let him keep doting on her endlessly. His friends, he said, had known about the crush, but hadn’t ever taken it seriously, and so ignored it in the hopes that the problem would resolve itself. He spoke at great length about the woes of his love life, and after what felt like hours, he reached the present.

Her face had been that unreadable half-frown throughout his explanation, but when he reached the part about Scootaloo, something cracked in that façade. She tapped her hooves together anxiously as she listened to his supposed realization that Rarity would never return his affections, and how instead of answering Scootaloo, he’d decided to sneak off to Canterlot without so much as a word to her.

“I can’t believe she sat there and lied to me,” Spike sighed, referring to his sister, Twilight Sparkle. “I asked her if she thought I’d been wasting my time, if I should go and talk to Rarity… She said she didn’t know, but she did know, and she kept it from me.”

He looked up for the first time, meeting her gaze with eyes baggy from the sleep he’d lost compulsively reading the letter.

“Why would she do that?” he asked pathetically.

Moondancer looked down at the parchment on the coffee table. She reached forward and gently smoothed the wrinkles out. There were little puncture marks along the edges where Spike’s claws had torn through the paper, and she had to be careful to not make the tears worse.

“The letter says it was because Rarity asked her to,” Moondancer said simply, reading the relevant portion of the missive despite having memorized it already.

“But why did she want Twilight to lie to me, then?” Spike asked. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

Moondancer hopped off the couch and went up to Spike, bringing her face mere inches from his.

“Spike, what are you doing here?” she asked with fire in her eyes.

He tried to shrink away from the intensity of her glare but her magic took hold of the tip of his chin and held him in place.

“What do you mean?” Spike asked.

“You shouldn’t have come to Canterlot,” she told him. She released her grip on him and shook her head in disappointment. “I can’t believe you.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean!?” he asked again, his temper rising steadily like fire in his belly.

“I mean what I said,” she answered roughly. “You shouldn’t have come here. From what you’re telling me, you should’ve walked out of the library and gone straight to this Rarity girl and put everything out in the open.”

“She didn’t want me to!” he snapped back. He got off the chair and began pacing in front of the fireplace, flexing his claws in frustration. “It’s all in the letter! ‘If Spike asks you, tell him that he never had a chance with me’!”

“So what!?” Moondancer shouted. “Twilight’s not the one with a crush on her! It’s you! This is about the both of you and the feelings you two have for each other! If you weren’t sure, it was up to you to go find out! You kept saying that nopony else jumped in or did anything to help, and I’m telling you: so what!?”

She stomped on an empty ice cream container, crushing it under her hoof out of frustration.

“The right thing to do would’ve been to go straight to Rarity’s and talk to her,” she said sadly. “But instead, you took the first opportunity you had to run away.”

“I didn’t run away,” he replied lamely.

“Yeah, you did,” Moondancer said.

“I left because Twilight said that it would be a good idea…”

“It’s not her life, Spike…”

Spike leaned heavily against the fireplace, his legs no longer willing to hold him up under their power alone. Moondancer’s words were cutting deeply, and it wasn’t the first time he’d heard something to that effect since coming to Canterlot – Rainbow Dash had said the same thing to him in the book store. Were they right? Had he just run away?

He groaned inwardly. It was a stupid question. Of course they were right. It didn’t take much thought to see that what Moondancer was saying was exactly on the money.

It was clear to him now. He’d been using Canterlot – and Moondancer – as an escape from the discomfort of his situation… and in the meantime, poor Scootaloo had been left back home dangling over the edge of a cliff, waiting for what should’ve been a very simple answer to the all-but-spoken question: “Could you love me back?”

All around him were the remnants of his bout of self pity. The empty pints were little cardboard reminders of his willingness to give in to easy comforts. For a creature that breathed fire, ice cream was the ultimate luxury, and he dove headfirst into that comfort of comforts at the first sign of trouble.

He kicked an empty container away in disgust.

“What should I do?” he asked softly.

“Stop asking that,” she scolded him. “You’re an adult. You know what you should do.”

He nodded wordlessly and went upstairs to pack his things.

Once Spike was out of sight, Moondancer began to tremble.

“Easy now, girl,” she whispered to herself. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, held it, and released it. She repeated it several more times.

Deep breath.

Hold.

Release.

Deep breath.

Hold.

Release.

“Be brave,” she told herself. “Be brave, Moondancer… You can do this…”

* * *

The train platform of Canterlot station was unusually barren for the time of day. Only a few ponies, including railway employees, milled about, awaiting the arrival of the Noon Express that would run from Canterlot to Manehattan.

Spike sat on a bench in the center of the platform, his legs kicking nervously under him as he stole furtive glances at Moondancer. On the one hand, he was glad for the privacy afforded by the lack of a crowd, but on the other, it would’ve been nice to at least have some more background noise to distract him from her stony silence. She simply sat beside him, his duffel bag between them and her saddlebags off to the side, staring dead ahead, past the platform and into the clear blue skies beyond the mountains of Canterlot. The effect felt strangely like sitting in the living room with his mother, waiting for his father to get home from work so he could lay down a punishment for breaking something in the study or playing with his fire indoors.

“You sure you’re going to be okay?” Spike asked for the tenth time that morning.

“For the last time, yes,” she said. “You’ve already helped enough. Thank you for helping me get organized.”

Spike nodded and busied himself by digging at loose splinters in the bench with his claws.

A train whistled in the distance, heralding its arrival to Canterlot, and a few moments later it whistled again, telling everypony that it was now settled into the station and ready for boarding. Spike and Moondancer waited for the other passengers to get themselves situated. They were in no hurry, and the train wouldn’t be leaving for a few more minutes.

“Do you know what you’re going to do?” Moondancer asked.

Spike shook his head. “No. No idea. All I know is that I have to talk to Rarity.”

“What does that mean for Scootaloo?”

“No clue,” he sighed. “I won’t know how this goes down until I’ve got Rarity right in front of me and we’ve both had our say. I have to know why she never… Why we never tried anything before, I guess.”

Moondancer turned to him and placed a hoof on his knee in support. “You might not like what she has to say.”

“I suppose there’s the danger of that,” he said with a gulp. “But it doesn’t matter as long as it’s the truth. The truth is what matters. We need to start being honest with ourselves, and with each other.”

Moondancer’s face lit up with a proud smile. She patted his knee encouragingly and nodded towards the train.

They gathered their things and walked to the caboose. They stepped onto the caboose platform and Moondancer stood on her hind legs to check the compartment through the window in the door.

“Looks like you’ll have some privacy,” she said. “Guess everypony else took cabins further up.”

“That’s good, it gives me some more time to brood,” he said jokingly.

“Brood all you want as long as you don’t chicken out at the last minute,” Moondancer said lightly. She leaned forward a little and smiled sadly. “And… I need you to do something for me, m’kay?”

“Anything,” Spike answered immediately.

“Promise me,” she said, “that no matter what you decide, or who you choose… that you’ll be brave.”

He chuckled and nodded. “I promise to be brave.”

Moondancer shook her head and touched his shoulder. “I mean it, Spike,” she said, emphasizing it by giving him a quick shake. “Sometimes being brave means fighting monsters, and other times it means putting your heart on the line even though there’s a chance you could get hurt…”

Moondancer’s voice hitched and her eyes became damp with barely withheld tears. Before Spike could ask what was wrong, she leaned forward, placing her lips against his.

The kiss was sweet. It wasn’t hard and passionate like the ones he’d read about in the climactic scenes of romance novels. There was no gasping for breath or pawing hungrily at one other with desperate desire. She merely pressed their lips together in a chaste, innocent expression of affection, the way a filly and a colt would when sharing their first intimate moment with a member of the opposite sex.

The train whistle blew and the train jostled forward as the brakes released and the engine began to pick up speed.

Moondancer pulled away, her cheeks practically aglow. “Sometimes…” she said with a quiet sniffle and a weak laugh, “sometimes… being brave means letting go of somepony you care about, because it’s what’s for the best.”

She spun around and leapt off the slowly moving caboose and onto the station platform. She wiped away the last of her tears with the back of her hoof, and trotted away without looking back to see if Spike’d had any reaction to the kiss. The sound of the train chugging along became more distant, until the only sign that it had left was a final muffled blow of the train’s whistle as it disappeared around the mountain.

Moondancer left the train station and began heading back towards the palace. She listened to the glassy rattle of the potion ingredients in her bags and tried to focus on what she would need to do for her experiment once she got back to campus, but she knew it was a lost cause. The day was probably a wash.

Instead she let her mind wander back to a very specific day five years ago.

It was the day before the Summer Sun Celebration, but to one little filly, this was the real celebration. She sat on a blanket on the lawn of the courtyard the school shared with the castle grounds, surrounded by friends, and food, and presents. It was her birthday, but the only thing she was really excited for was the arrival of one very special guest.

She would periodically look away from the party, eyes scanning in the direction of the dormitories for any sign that he’d come down from the tower. The birthday present she was going to give herself this year was to finally tell him about her feelings for him. The prospect of confessing like that, in front of all of her friends, no less, was scary, but she was a brave little filly.

She looked at the clock tower and noticed that he was a little late, but that was okay. He and his sister were always working on some kind of important research thing for Princess Celestia. All she had to do was be patient and he’d show up eventually.

And maybe, if she felt extra brave, she’d even steal her first kiss from him. All she had to do was wait just a little bit more for him to arrive, then she’d be able to show him just how brave she was.

Chapter 4 - The End of the Thing

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Rarity sat on the floor in front of the window of her hotel room, a tall glass of water held between her hooves as she watched the Manehattan skyline glitter against the backdrop of the night sky. The city was always full of such excitement and energy. It never slept, it never tired, and it transitioned seamlessly from one shift to another as some ponies’ days ended and others’ began. It was a stark counterpoint to the weariness she felt – like she was standing still and the rest of the world was passing her by.

She knew Luna to have mixed feelings about this sleepless city. On the one hoof, it was a city filled with ponies who worshipped at the altar of her night, and on the other, her stars were forever hidden by the perpetual-noon of the city’s electrical grid. She’d once remarked that it was ironic that so many ponies rushed to Manehattan to try and be stars, when it was a city where you couldn’t even see the ones in the sky.

Rarity stared into the lights, which seemed like a thousand glowing eyes staring back at her, watching as she watched them.

“What’re you looking at…?” she asked the lights contentiously.

She sipped her water daintily. The liquid hit the back of her throat like a train and slid into her stomach, past a hard lump in her throat, like a sack of doorknobs. It removed some of the taste of alcohol and morning breath from her mouth, so she had another sip that went down as hard as the first.

Never again…

…or at least not until the next time.

“Stupid Fleur and Coco,” she grumbled hoarsely.

Predictably, her friends had ditched her. They’d snuck off back to their hotel and left Rarity sitting alone in their VIP booth, nursing glass after glass until the realization hit that she was drinking alone, trying to drown her romantic sorrows in wine. Sadly, the realization had come too late, and six glasses into the night, the only thing that was clear to her was that she was going to have to stumble her own way back to the hotel. Somehow, she’d managed to hail a taxi to take her back to her hotel, and she could vaguely remember the desk clerk calling a bellhop to help steady her on the walk to her room.

Unlike Coco, who was less adventurous with her indulgences, and Fleur, who would go long stretches of time avoiding the empty calories, Rarity was no stranger to alcohol. She enjoyed a glass of wine at least three times a week, sometimes even once a night if she was working under a particularly stressful work schedule. But even a tolerance as great as hers eventually buckled under the weight of six glasses of overpriced bar wine.

She was paying for it now, but she could at least take comfort in knowing that her hangover could’ve been much worse. They’d had a nice dinner right before hitting the club, and a full stomach had gone a long way towards taking the edge off her current pains.

She took another sip and was pleasantly surprised that the doorknobs seemed to be going down one at a time. A flick of her magic opened the window to let the cool night air in. The hairs of her coat were damp with the liquor-sweats and tingled as the fresh breeze touched them.

Rarity’s nose scrunched up as she caught a whiff of herself when the infusion of fresh air pushed away the dank of her room. She levitated the glass out of her hooves, onto the desk at the other end of the room, and ran a hoof along her body. She found, to her dismay, that her coat was greasy and emitting the same unrefined stench that was stuffing up the room.

She would not stand this ignominy a second longer.

She turned and began walking towards the bathroom, but paused at the bed and ran a hoof over where the disheveled mass of bedding was messiest. The sheets were a little damp with perspiration from having slept in them the whole day. It was gross, but at least it was only sweat – there were much worse fluids that one could awake to find the sheets drenched in after a night of heavy drinking.

It occurred to her that she was saying that to herself a lot, lately: “It could have been worse.”

She brushed the thought aside and went to the generous bathroom of her suite.

Most ponies that were travelling tended to choose their accommodations based on superficial things like proximity to tourist spots, dining options, the sizes of the beds, or the courteousness of the hotel staff. But unlike most ponies, Rarity was an upstanding and refined lady – current embarrassment aside – and knew what really mattered when it came to these things: the quality of the bathrooms.

She hit the switch on the bathroom wall, powering up the soft fluorescent lights above the mirror with a whine of electricity. The tile gleamed spotlessly, and the equally spotless rugs were sufficiently shaggy and virginal white. At the far end of the bathroom, against the wall, was a small shower stall beside a large soaking tub dotted with massaging jets.

It certainly wasn’t as nice as her facilities back home, but a bit of roughing it never hurt anypony.

She floated a small vanity from off the counter, along with a damp washcloth and a little makeup remover, to wipe away the last of the blush stubbornly clinging to her cheeks and the final wisps of mascara around her eyes. She made it a point to focus only on the makeup, dreading her own reflection until she’d given herself a good scrubbing.

She magicked the shower on and went about cleaning away the rest of the outward remnants of the previous night. Bottles flew in and out of the suitcase she’d placed next to the sink when she’d settled in. The hotel provided miniature hospitality shampoos, but those single serving samples were always of poor quality, no matter how nice the other amenities.

She was finally scrubbed and cleansed after a good while, so she shut off the shower and levitated a few of the enormous fluffy white towels – another major plus for this particular establishment – off the racks and set to drying herself off. The soaking tub had been calling her name, but for the moment her only goal was sanitation.

Sufficiently dry, she wrapped a fresh towel around her middle and a smaller towel around her head to hold her hair. She went to the mirror and looked at her reflection with a grimace.

She was looking a little worse for wear. She may have overslept, but it hadn’t been a restful sleep. Her repose in general these last few days had been very poor indeed, limited as it was to napping on the train ride from one leg of the tour to the next. And when she did have a few hours to lie in an actual bed, she’d been disturbed by a general feeling of unease. Her body screamed at her to move, to distract herself, even as it wound down and commanded her to give it a break.

She really wished it would make up its mind.

Rarity was halfway through brushing her teeth when there was a knock at the door. She frowned as the number of knocks caused her to lose her place counting the number of brush strokes. She spit into the sink and rinsed her mouth daintily.

It was probably Fleur and-slash-or Coco coming to apologize for running off without a word to go and find a room to rut in, or whatever they’d taken off to do. She trotted to the door, closing her eyes and lifting her chin into proper scolding position as she went.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here after last night,” she said with a haughty sniff as she threw the door wide open with a yank of her magic.

“I’m… I’m sorry…?” squeaked a slightly frightened, but definitely male, voice.

Rarity’s heart seized in her chest the moment she heard him speak. She looked down into the eyes of the last of her friends she’d expected to see: Spike.

The little dragon looked up at her, his claws tapping together nervously, with a clear look of trepidation on his face. She noticed that he had his little travel duffle at his side, but put that aside as the least important thing at the moment.

Rarity closed the door halfway and stepped behind it unconsciously. Spike had seen her in worse condition before, but at the moment something felt… wrong… about letting him see her at anything less than her very best.

“Spike!” she said, her voice trembling but managing a false cheer. “This is a… pleasant surprise! I’m sorry, I thought you were Fleur and Coco. Um… how did you…?”

“You mentioned where you were staying before you left,” Spike answered her unfinished question. “I just had to ask the desk clerk for your room number. He didn’t want to give it to me at first, but…”

Spike patted his duffel bag knowingly, and the sound of bits tinkled from the purse within.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

That gave Rarity pause. She opened her mouth to respond, but closed it without a word. She cast a glance over her shoulder into the messy room.

“I don’t think that’s such a—“

“Please, it’s important,” he said.

Rarity nodded and stepped aside to let him in.

Spike entered the room, looking around nervously, as though he were about to be ambushed, and set his bag down near the door.

“I like this hotel,” Spike said conversationally. “They have nice bathrooms.”

That made Rarity smile.

“I’m very sorry about the mess,” she explained as she shut the door.

She quickly moved to the bed and straightened out the sheets into neat little hospital corners with a practiced flourish of magic. The loose magazines on the nightstand were restacked with a sharp tap against the table so everything was even edges. She closed her suitcases and lined them neatly against the wall. A wet rag darted in from the bathroom and scrubbed at a greasy little spot on the window where she’d pressed her face against it earlier.

“Rarity,” Spike said suddenly.

She looked up from wiping the hoofprints away from the glass of water she’d been sipping from and gave him a curious look. A wave of his claw in her direction made her realize what she was doing. She set the glass back on the desk with a blush.

“Just let me make myself presentable, at least,” Rarity laughed self-consciously.

She rushed into the bathroom and shut the door behind herself.

“Oh, why are you here?” she groaned, leaning against the door. Maybe if she pressed hard enough the door would jam and she wouldn’t have to speak with him.

Rarity shook her head to clear away the thought, only to have a needle of pain remind her of the final dying gasps of her hangover. The sink came back on at her command and she filled the little plastic cup she’d been using to brush her teeth. She downed the entire cup and chased it with a few more.

Her line of sight drifted towards the mirror, reflecting the look of panic on her face.

“No,” she said defiantly. “No, don’t fall apart now, Rarity. Just talk to him, he might not even be here about…”

She left the reason unspoken, letting it dangle in the air above her head like a sword as she removed her towels and began brushing her mane and tail. Her magic worked two brushes at the same time, while simultaneously applying a modest amount of eye shadow and some concealer for the bags under her eyes.

Rarity peered into the suitcase and frowned at the various supplies within. She’d modified this case herself, adding pouches and compartments to convert the extra large piece of luggage into a makeup and beauty supply case. Sure there were commercially available cases for the same purpose, but normal sized makeup kits were woefully undersized for the needs of a professional such as herself.

She ran a hoof over the contents, considering what else to put on. Some lipstick? Blush? Maybe her eyelashes could do with a bit more volume? But then again, less was more in a situation like this. It wouldn’t do to have Spike getting any ideas.

She groaned and stared into her own reflection. “Stop it,” she ordered herself.

She closed the suitcase with a growl and turned back to the door.

“Just… just go talk to him,” she whispered shakily. She took a deep breath and opened the door.

Spike was sitting on a chair at the desk across from the foot of the bed, staring at his claws. He looked up at the sound of her entering the room and smiled.

“That was fast,” he commented. “So, how was the fashion tour?”

She smiled back and nodded, happy that he’d brought the subject up. She climbed onto the bed and sat on her haunches at the end opposite him.

“The tour was wonderful,” she gushed artificially. “You know me, darling, I do love a good bit of fashion. It was quite a lot of stress, mind you, but luckily Coco and Fleur were there to keep me sane.”

“And keeping you sane is cause for you to be upset with them?” Spike asked with a raise of his eyebrow.

“Oh, that little outburst at the door?” she asked. “It’s a minor tiff. I’m afraid the two of them were rather rude last night when we went out to celebrate the successful tour. Wouldn’t you know it? They ditched me at a nightclub!”

Spike scoffed in disbelief. “The nerve! Why would they do that?”

Rarity cleared her throat and blushed. “They, and I believe I’m using the term correctly, ‘hooked up’. Or so it seemed to me. They were being very gropey with each other and had quite a lot to drink.”

Spike let out a snicker of laughter. “Really? Good for them!”

“I know, right?” Rarity agreed with an enthusiastic nod. “I swear the two of them have been staring at one another’s backs for months.”

“Or backsides, as it were,” Spike suggested with a grin.

“Spike!” Rarity said with a giggle. She flicked a hoof out at him, as though she were going to give him a shove from across the room. “You’re incorrigible, honestly.”

As they laughed, Rarity’s caught a bit of movement on the edge of her vision, drawing her eyes to the hand resting at Spike’s right side. His claws were drumming against the scales of his thigh with muted clacks while his leg jittered nervously. At first blush, this body language seemed out of concert with the good-natured smile on his face and the happy chime of his laughter, but closer inspection showed that none of his outward cheer reached his eyes. The usually majestic violet of his scales also seemed pale, as though he were coming down with something.

“Spike…” she said, still trying to sound conversational. “Are you quite alright? Your leg is shaking, and you look a little ill.”

His claws immediately stopped drumming and gripped his knee tightly, halting the limb’s betrayal.

“What about you?” he asked glumly, all the pretense of cheer gone from his voice. “If your tail swishes any harder you’re going to start a fire.”

The rapid, steady whisper of her tail brushing along the bed’s comforter suddenly registered in her ears. She bit back a curse and willed herself to cease the nervous tic.

Silence filled the small hotel room.

Rarity stared fixedly at a minor imperfection in the wallpaper – a rough patch where a previous guest had carelessly let something rub against the wall hard enough to scuff it. It was hardly worth noticing, but it was something, anything, to look at that wasn’t Spike. She couldn’t feel the familiar pressure of his gaze on her, either, so she assumed he must be of a similar mind and was staring at some inconsequential distraction in the room.

The room lit up brightly and a split-second later there was a crash of thunder.

Rarity turned her head towards the window – her eyes passing briefly over Spike and noticing that his attention was likewise drawn – and watched as rain began to fall. The pitter-patter of raindrops falling against the side of the building filled the room, and was soon joined by the earthy scent of fresh rainfall striking the pavement below. Even ten stories up, she could smell the wet concrete and asphalt.

The sky had been perfectly clear less than an hour ago. The weather patrol for Manehattan certainly worked fast.

Rarity stated the obvious: “It’s raining…”

“Yeah…” Spike agreed.

They watched through the window as the rain steadily picked up speed until it was falling in visible sheets, buffeted by the wind kicked up by whatever meteorological phenomenon caused that sort of thing. Spike would likely know, it occurred to Rarity, why the wind picked up during storms, but she didn’t feel like asking.

In the periodic flashes of lightning they could see the outlines of the local weather teams flittering about the sky just above cloud cover. The majority of the rainclouds were herded over the enormous wooded area of Central Park, but that didn’t mean the rest of the city could be ignored. It may have been a city of concrete, steel, and glass, but there were still trees lining the sidewalks, small rooftop gardens, and the odd potted plant set out on a fire escape, all in need of a good soaking.

The rain also served to clean away the dust and filth that gathered on the buildings and walkways. It was like giving the entire city a nice shower to wash away all the crud that accumulated from day to day activity – the gunk that nopony ever noticed until it was pointed out.

“I’ve been in Canterlot the last week,” Spike said at last, breaking the rain’s enchantment over them.

“Oh? Any particular reason?”

“I had some stuff on my mind, wanted a change of scenery.”

Rarity squirmed uncomfortably from her seated position on the bed. The rain was being blown into the room by the force of the winds, dampening the carpet beneath the window one drop at a time. She could feel little flecks of cold rain against her coat from all the way on the bed, so she closed the window with a sigh.

“What sort of stuff…?” she asked, her eyes never moving from the window.

“You, mostly.”

Rarity breathed in sharply, her heart skipped a beat, and she became extremely aware of his eyes upon her, all at once. She could hear the sound of him falling to the carpet, and the muffled thud of his footfalls as he plodded over to the bed. The mattress shifted under her flank as he made to climb onto the bed to join her.

Without thought, she scooted closer to the middle of the bed, turning towards the window so she wouldn’t be facing him while putting distance between them. The action gave him pause, but she felt the bed shake as he climbed up and took a seat anyway.

“Look at me,” he begged.

She shuddered, nodded, and did as he asked.

He was now sitting at the edge of the bed, in a spot that would have put the two of them side by side, close enough to lean against one another, had she not moved.

“I love you, Rarity,” he said. “I have for a long time.”

She opened her mouth to say something. What that something was she would never know.

“It’s okay,” he said. “You don’t have to say anything, yet. I know that you know. We’ve had a few close calls over the years, even, where I was just this close,” he held two claws together just a few millimeters apart, “to saying it out loud. Something always happened, though. I’d get interrupted, or you’d silence me with a hoof to my lips, or the bad guy we were facing down would enter his final form and start the whole ‘You can’t stop me now, I’ve already won’ speech.

“I never got to say it, but I knew that you knew… And I just kept on coming around, hoping I’d finally say something, or maybe you’d finally say something, or… Or I dunno. I was waiting for anything to happen.”

He began to chuckle sadly.

“Maybe some stupid part of me hoped that one day you’d just wake up and love me back. I just kept waiting… and waiting… and waiting, until I got so comfortable waiting, that I stopped even thinking about it.”

“I never wanted for things to happen like that,” Rarity said in a very small voice. “It was cruel…”

He shook his head. “Then why?”

“When I met you,” she began, “you were the sweetest, kindest, most helpful little boy I’d ever met. I didn’t see any harm in letting you dote on me. I saw your crush for what it was right away, but I always assumed you’d grow out of it.”

“But I didn’t,” Spike pointed out.

“No… no you didn’t…” Rarity sighed. “I was afraid of hurting you unduly, so I, like you, began waiting. I waited for you to meet a nice filly your age, or to accept that I wasn’t being receptive to your overtures, or for you to force my hoof in the matter…”

“Twilight says she talked to you,” Spike said. “She had reason to believe that maybe you did have feelings for me as well.”

She looked away, her face a mixture of shame and anger. “I told her to keep quiet about that,” she growled.

“Don’t be mad at her,” Spike said soothingly. “She did keep your secret at first. Applejack got ahold of her, though.”

“Oh, so now Applejack knows, too, does she?” she asked, her anger rising with every perceived slight against her.

“They’re just being true to their natures, Rarity. Twilight’s just trying to do what’s best for everypony, and AJ is trying to be our conscience.”

“Yes, and their good intentions have built a very nice little road straight into Tartarus for us, haven’t they?” she asked archly. “If they’d kept their noses out of our business, you would never have known, you would have moved on, and we wouldn’t be sitting here, right now, wringing our hooves and claws.”

“I would’ve found out eventually,” Spike said confidently. He slid a hand across the comforter, hoping Rarity would allow him to touch her. When she didn’t pull away, he moved closer and gripped her hoof encouragingly. “What happened between us, Rarity? If you started to have feelings for me, why did you keep them secret?”

“I don’t know how else to say it…” she said muttered sadly. “You were a little boy when we met… You were Twilight’s little brother – you became a little brother to all of us. I used to take you out for ice cream on your birthday, and sometimes, when we’d lose track of time making dresses together, I’d find you asleep in a pile of scrap cloth and I’d have to carry you home on my back.”

“What changed, then…?”

She chuckled mirthlessly. “You grew up,” she said simply. “You changed from a cute, considerate boy into a fine, erudite, and interesting… adult. My failures with stallions are no secret. With my record, how could I possibly be expected to withstand the charms of somepony like you?”

“Then why didn’t you do anything about it?” he asked again, squeezing her hoof harder. “Say it plainly, please. I have to know.”

“Because I was afraid, Spike!” she spat shamefully. “I was afraid of what everypony would think! Our friends, my clients, your sister… What would they think of the lecherous old cradle robber taking advantage of an innocent boy’s crush!?”

Spike blinked. “It was… because of what other ponies would think…?”

“No!” she shouted in fear of how she made herself sound. “I mean yes, I mean… Yes and no…”

She pulled her hoof from his grasp and brought it to her face to hide her shame.

“I don’t know,” she said sadly, her voice muffled by her hooves. She dropped them and chewed her lip thoughtfully before continuing. “I could get over what other ponies thought of me… it would be difficult, but I could do it… getting over my own opinion of myself, however… that would be harder.”

He shook his head. “Meaning?”

“I told you already,” she sighed. “You were like a little brother to me. What kind of mare would I be to betray that kind of bond? To take the love I felt for you and express it in other ways? How could I take these feelings, the same feelings that I had for somepony as dear to me as Sweetie Belle, and turn them romantic? How could I reconcile memories of watching you play marbles with thoughts of taking you out on dates? What about considering you as somepony to maybe one day marry?”

Her cheeks flushed brightly. She lowered her eyes to the bed knowingly and gave a little nod in its direction.

“Or inviting you to my bed… to make love…?”

Spike blushed as well, but maintained his composure as he pointed out: “To be fair, I only ever played marbles with Pinkie and RD… And whatever we were shouldn’t matter. The only thing that should matter is how you feel about me right now.”

“I know that. And every day since that first day I realized that I might want you, I cared a little less about the taboo of it… but I’m a very weak mare, Spike. I’m petty and shallow, and even at my age I still have some growing up to do – I recognize that about myself.”

She turned back to the window and ground her teeth.

“That’s why I kept waiting… I was waiting until I was mature enough that I just didn’t give a damn anymore – until my love for you was strong enough to shove aside all the embarrassment and self-doubt… I never considered that, while I was struggling with my feelings, somepony else might have taken notice of how wonderful you are… It was selfish. So very, very selfish…”

“You had no way of knowing,” he assured her. Moondancer and Scootaloo came to the front of his mind. He’d been mulling over all the little signs that should’ve told him that they were interested, and in retrospect it had all seemed so obvious. “Even I didn’t know... apparently I’m really bad at noticing when somepony likes me.”

Rarity smiled sadly. “Well… we all have our flaws,” she said. She reached behind herself and pulled her tail to her chest, bunching up the curls and hugging them tightly to her body for comfort, like a teddy bear.

“So that’s it, huh?” Spike asked. “It’s all out in the open. No more secrets.”

Rarity nodded.

“All this time,” he continued, “we were both afraid. I was afraid of you saying no, and you were afraid of saying yes…”

She nodded again.

Lightning flashed and thunder struck, reminding them of the rain outside.

“Who is she?” Rarity asked abruptly.

Spike grunted curiously, looking away from the window and back to Rarity.

“The… um… other mare,” she clarified in a very small, almost timid, voice. “Twilight mentioned that you’d caught somepony else’s eye, but she wouldn’t say who.”

“It’s Scootaloo.”

Rarity’s jaw dropped in disbelief. It hung there as she processed the thought of Scootaloo – the little pegasus with the puny wings that followed Rainbow Dash around like a puppy – as the other mare in question. Her jaw snapped shut with a click of her teeth, and she fell back against the bed, cackling violently.

Spike stared in confusion as she held her belly and chortled. The entire bed shook with the energy of her laughter.

“I’m sorry!” she gasped. She pulled herself together and sat back up, her eyes now lit with a sad amusement. “No, no, I’m sorry. She’s a wonderful girl. I just… never in all my life did I think that Scootaloo, of all ponies, would be a serious romantic rival of mine.”

“Scootaloo’s great,” Spike grumbled, somehow more than a little upset at her reaction. If nothing else, he at least didn’t like the idea of one friend laughing at another that way, and felt the need to stick up for her in her absence.

“Yes, yes she is,” Rarity said with an embarrassed grin. “I meant no disrespect. She’s a worthy – if surprising – rival.”

“She was brave enough to step up and be true to her heart,” Spike pointed out seriously.

Rarity’s smile faltered a bit at that. “A worthy rival, indeed…” she repeated under her breath.

Spike got up on his hands and knees and crawled over the bed to sit next to Rarity. She didn’t move this time.

They leaned against one another and stared out the window into the storm.

Rarity hadn’t noticed, but the temperature in the room had dropped considerably. She pressed further into him and sighed at the warmth radiating from his scales. Dragons, unlike lizards, were warm-blooded, and could manage their own internal body temperature even better than ponies could. His scales were cool to the touch in the summer, and in the winter he was a little portable furnace, perfect for cuddling.

They sat together and enjoyed the rain and the company. The moment was tense, but not awkward. The minutes ticked by, and the moment stretched on while the storm outside grew more forceful. An hour had passed before either of them realized it.

“I’ve made a decision, and I think it’s time for one of us to be brave, Rarity,” Spike said at last as he got to his feet.

“What do you mean by—“

She was silenced by the feel of his hands on her face. He turned her head and took in every inch of her features, his gaze roving over her face hungrily. She shivered under his touch as he brushed the dull side of one of his claws against her face, playing with the sensitive, feathery hairs of her cheek.

Rarity studied his face as well. His cheeks had lost some of that chubbiness of his youth, and he was just a little closer to eye-level than he’d been just a couple of years ago, but for the most part he looked much the same as he did that first day they’d met. More than his body, it was his eyes that truly showed his age. They were sharp and alive with intelligence and confidence that belied his youthful appearance. They were deep and soulful – the eyes of somepony who lived a life of the mind.

She gasped as he leaned in, bringing their faces closer together slowly, tortuously. She could feel his breath, hot as dragonfire against her face, as he shortened the distance. She closed her eyes and waited for it – whatever it would be – to happen. She didn’t care anymore. He could do what he wanted. He could kiss her, grope her, shove her down onto the bed… whatever he wanted, it didn’t matter to her. It was easier, so much easier, to just allow him to remove the burden of choice from her. To let him take the responsibility for whatever might come next.

Her eyes opened as she felt his lips press against her. He was gently kissing her forehead, at the spot just between her eyes and below her horn, the way unicorn parents kissed their children. Somehow, this felt more intimate than what she’d been expecting.

He pulled away and smiled sadly, tears shining in his eyes but refusing to fall.

“What are you doing?” she gasped.

“I’m being brave, for both of us,” he said as he pressed his forehead against hers.

“Why…?” she sobbed dryly.

“I think we might not be good for each other,” he explained gently. “We’re great as friends… but as lovers… maybe not so much.”

He sighed deeply and wrapped his arms around her neck, pulling her into a hug.

“It’s not fair to either of us to keep one another waiting,” he whispered into her ear.

“But I want you right now,” she whispered back. She leaned onto the bed, trying to pull him down with her, but he held fast with that unexpected dragon-strength of his and kept them both upright.

“And tomorrow?” he asked with a catch in his voice over what he’d just passed up. “Will all those fears and worries just be gone? Or will they turn to regret and shame?”

Silence.

“Thought so…” He placed his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed away from the hug. “I never wanted to be a source of pain for you, Rarity, and the world is passing us by. It’s better this way. I want us both to be happy, even if it’s not together.”

“Do you care for her?”

He nodded. “This wouldn’t have been such a hard choice if I didn’t.”

“Love…?”

He shrugged. “Not quite yet, though I’m sure it will be, soon… but I’ll never find out for sure if you and I don’t let go of each other.”

He straightened her hair and caressed her cheek one last time before hopping off the edge of the bed and going to the door.

“Congratulations on the successful tour,” he said as he reached for his bag. He grabbed the door handle and shot her a final reassuring smile. “Come by and see me when you get back to Ponyville, okay?”

“Spike, it’s raining!” she said lamely. “At least stay until the storm passes…”

“I’ll be fine,” he said with a rap of his claws against the tough, fireproof scales of his chest. “A little rain never hurt anypony.”

He walked out into the hallway and closed the door behind himself with a gentle click of the door latching into place.

She stared at the door, unsure of what to do. She was dimly aware of the sound of the rain and the ticking of the clock, but barely heard them over the sound of her slowly beating heart. She briefly considered crying, but for some reason the tears wouldn’t come, so she didn’t bother forcing it. All she knew for certain was that her body felt heavy with the emotions of the encounter and the frustration of unsated arousal.

She was knocked out of her stupor by a bang that didn’t come from the thunder outside. The wall opposite her bed began emitting a steady thumping as the ponies in the next room screwed vigorously, as if to mock her.

Rarity went to the window, threw it open, and thrust her head into the freezing rain. Within seconds she was soaked to her skin, but it didn’t matter. She looked down to the street below and watched the entrance. After a few minutes – the time it took to ride the elevator down and walk through the lobby – Spike emerged from the building, stepped onto the sidewalk, and turned in the direction of the train depot. She followed him with her eyes until he became a little splotch of purple fading into the haze of falling rain and glowing street lights.

A gust of wind swept across her face, chilling her soaked coat enough to elicit a shiver from her. It was oddly pleasant, so she didn’t retreat to the warmth of the room that was almost assuredly filled with the inconsiderate sounds of lovemaking. A little rain never hurt anypony, after all.

She stayed there, half-hanging out the window and shivering pleasantly, watching the sky as the silhouettes of pegasi moved around the flashing clouds like dancing shadows.

* * *

Scootaloo rested on her stomach and wiggled herself deeper into the embrace of the cloud she’d chosen for her mid-afternoon warm-up pre-nap. It was a short fifteen-minute siesta meant to get her napping-circuits good and primed for the post-mid-afternoon pre-nap that would carry her on into the early-evening main-event nap.

She ceased her wiggling and lifted her head enough to check the horizon for the approach of any other pegasi that might snitch her out to her supervisor. She was on the outskirts of town, hovering above the fields that separated the town proper from the woods, so she wasn’t likely to be disturbed. Even still, it never hurt to check.

Seeing that she was in the clear, she set her head back onto the cloud and stretched out her wings to soak up a little sunshine. It was hard work, busting clouds, and the warmth of the sunlight did wonders for tired wing-muscles.

One of the best parts about being on the Ponyville weather team as a Junior Trainee Weather Specialist was the fact that the head of the teams, Thunderlane, was always running off and leaving her to her own devices. He was a good guy, if a little flakey. He wasn’t nearly as impressive or knowledgeable as Rainbow Dash when she held the position, but she was still learning a lot from him.

The pay was good, the naps were good, and she had a full position waiting for her once she was done with her training – life, in general, was good… well, mostly.

Musing on the minor imperfections and annoyances in life had only served to bring to mind the major annoyance: Spike. The thought of the little jerk dragon that had run off without so much as a “smell ya later,” brought a frown to her face. She groaned and flopped onto her back, bringing a hoof down on the cloud with an angry little ‘pomf’.

It had been nearly a week since she’d opened her heart up to him, and she hadn’t heard so much as a peep out of that slithery little lizard. After a while, not even jogging could take her mind off her romantic woes, so all she could do was go about her daily routine. She worked, she studied for her Weather Specialist exam, she hung out with the girls – anything to keep her mind off of Spike.

The best she could do was not think about him for a few hours, but eventually she’d catch the scent of burning firewood, or pass a garden with a few too many violets in it, and he’d pop right back into her head.

“Great, now this nap is ruined…” she groused. She closed her eyes and dug herself in a little further with a sigh. At least she could still enjoy the sunshine. “If I ever get hooves on that jerk, again, I’m gunna—”

Her tirade was cut short when something small struck her forehead and rolled down her face. She blinked into the clear blue sky above and touched her forehead, pulling her hoof away and staring at it in confusion. It couldn’t be raining, she had the only cloud in the sky.

She felt another droplet hit her tummy, and closer inspection found the disturbance to be a small pebble that rolled away and fell through the cloud as she sat up. She cheeped in surprise when a third pebble struck her flank through the cloud.

“Hey!” she shouted as she leaned over the edge of her resting spot. “Who’s doing that!?”

Spike was standing on the ground below, on the path leading from town into the Whitetail Woods, and smiling sheepishly. He was holding a small supply of pebbles in one hand and waving with the other.

Scootaloo dove for the ground with a gasp, smashing the cloud into water vapor as she passed through it. She landed in front of him and smiled brightly.

“You’re back!” she shouted excitedly. She realized her behavior and sniffed loudly as she wiped her nose with the back of her hoof, acting casual to try and downplay her excitement. “I mean… oh, hey, what’s up?”

Spike noticed her eyes narrowing as she looked at the pebbles he held. He dropped them quickly and dusted his hands off.

“Sorry about the rocks,” he laughed nervously. “I just wanted to get your attention.”

“And shouting, ‘Hey Scoots,’ wouldn’t have done the same?” she asked rhetorically. “How’d you even know I was up there?”

“Somepony bothered to clear all the clouds in the sky except one. I only know two pegasi with that modus operandi, and I’m pretty sure Rainbow Dash is still in Canterlot.”

Scootaloo’s hot-and-cold temper flipped itself back to hot at the word ‘Canterlot’. She made a rude noise and began trotting down the path to Ponyville in a huff. She perked her ears and was mildly satisfied that Spike had done as she’d predicted and began jogging after her.

“Well, I really hope you had a nice vacation,” Scootaloo said tersely. “Thanks for stopping by.”

“Oh, come on, don’t walk away,” Spike pleaded gently. “Please don’t be like that, you said I could take all the time I needed.”

“That’s just a thing you say!” she snapped.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked. “Haven’t you been waiting to hear what I have to say?”

“You just love the idea of that, don’t you?” Scootaloo said with a snort. “Poor little Scootaloo, sitting all alone at home, twiddling her hooves and pining away. Well, I hardly thought about you, what do you think about that?”

Spike sped up and ran ahead to stand in front of her, his arms held out as a barricade. She stepped to the side and tried to walk around him, but he mirrored her movements.

“You do know I can just fly over your head, right?” she asked.

“Then do it,” he challenged.

Scootaloo stared him down, willing him to move aside, but eventually she gave up and sat on her haunches in defeat. He’d called her bluff.

Even she wasn’t sure why she was acting this way. She really had been pining away this whole time, waiting for him to come back and give her an answer. But now that he was standing in front of her, she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what he had to say.

“Alright,” she said tonelessly. “Just tell me.”

“Are you okay?” he asked in concern.

She hung her head with a groan as she felt the dam that had been holding back her fears and frustrations begin to crack. “Just let me have it, okay? I’ve been waiting all week to hear from you, and if you actually cared about me you wouldn’t have taken this long to get back. So go ahead and tell me that you can’t give up on Rarity, or that you secretly had some hot little tomato in Canterlot this whole time, or that you only like me as a friend, or whatever.”

Spike winced at every accusation, especially the one that confirmed his suspicions that she knew about his thing with Rarity. He deserved all of that, but it didn’t take the sting out of her words.

“I choose you,” he said simply.

She blinked. “Wait… wait, what?”

“I choose you,” he repeated with a little more confidence in his voice. “I like you, Scootaloo, and I… I want to see how far that can go.”

Scootaloo stared blankly, working her jaw like a beached fish. “W-wha… what about Rarity…?”

“I’m going to be honest with you, Scootaloo,” he said as he scratched his arm nervously. “I went to Manehattan and talked to her. We finally cleared the air between us, and she said… that she had feelings for me, too…”

Scootaloo’s heart skipped a beat. “I’m sorry, what?”

Spike took a step closer and cupped her cheek tenderly with one hand.

“She and I… we’ve… we’ve been afraid,” he explained with difficulty. “We realized that we were both afraid of hurting one another, or hurting ourselves, or… honestly, we’ve both just been afraid of our own feelings. That’s why we never got together.”

He let his claw fall away as he broke eye contact. This had gone much more simply in his head. The whole train ride back to Ponyville had been spent scripting possible scenarios for how this confrontation would go. In the one where this conversation came up, he’d been way smoother. He’d been suave and charming, and he’d swept her off her hooves and kissed her passionately on the lips while the sun set behind them as they lost themselves to one another’s embrace. Now that he was standing in front of the girl, the words just weren’t coming. Every syllable came less easily than the last.

“I’ve done a few things in my life that I’ve been told were brave,” he said after a few moments of struggle. “I’ve got some medals with my name engraved on the cases, and there’s a statue or two made in my likeness… but I never had the courage to admit what was in my heart, not the way you did.”

He took a deep breath and raised a hand to her chest, tapping a claw gently at the spot just above her heart. “You put this on the line, and that took real courage – a specific type of courage that I’ve always seemed to lack. That’s why I choose you.”

A smile came to his lips as he was struck by the perfect way to phrase what he was trying to say.

“You’re a brave girl, Scootaloo,” he said. “And I guess what I’m trying to say, is that that bravery is crazy-go-nuts-awesome hot.”

Scootaloo gasped and her hooves shot up to cover her mouth in wide-eyed shock. “That’s the sweetest thing anypony’s ever said to me…” she whispered.

Spike gripped his own shoulder timidly and grinned. “So uh… whaddaya say? You want to be my mare?”

She nodded violently. “Should we… kiss or something…?” she asked cautiously.

“I think that’d be a good idea,” Spike said with a laugh.

He gently pulled her hooves away from her mouth and placed them on his shoulders. Scootaloo was one of the few ponies in town that was eye-level with him while standing, and sitting on her haunches put her a few inches shorter than him: perfect kissing height. He lifted her chin up and leaned in to claim the lips she was nervously moistening with little flicks of her tongue. The sight of it darting in and out of her mouth was so silly that he almost laughed.

He closed his eyes and leaned in, puckering his lips expectantly... only to feel her hooves slide off his shoulders and give him a hard shove, pushing him to the ground.

"Oh gosh!" Scootaloo squeaked in surprise. The intense blush on her face was practically visible through the hooves she was once again hiding behind. "Don't look at me! I can't do it, I'm too nervous!"

"I'm not even mad," Spike said with a laugh. "You are so cute right now."

He stood up and dusted himself off while she mewled quietly in embarrassment. He reached for her hooves again, but found her much more reluctant to lower them this time.

"Hey, come on," he said soothingly. "Don't be embarrassed. How about we just hug instead?"

Scootaloo allowed her shelter to be pulled away slowly. "A hug would be nice..." she whimpered.

He carefully wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her tight against his body. Her arms slowly encircled him as well, squeezing experimentally, as though she were afraid to hurt him. Spike lifted a claw to her mane and toyed with her hair tenderly, which seemed to soothe her nerves if the increased firmness of her hug was any indication. His free hand rubbed her back with small, loving circles in the spot between her wings, rewarding him with a delightful hum.

They stood beneath the early afternoon sun, enjoying the feeling of their bodies pressed together tight enough to feel one another's heartbeat. Hugs were nothing new. They'd both hugged friends in the past, and had even hugged each one or twice, but the intent and meaning of this particular hug is what made all the difference in the world. Hidden within this embrace was a silent promise to dedicate themselves to trying to make a future with one another.

Scootaloo relaxed her grip, signalling the end of the hug. They pulled apart and smiled at one another.

"That was perfect," Spike said with a grin.

"Yeah," Scootaloo agreed with a surprisingly girlish titter.

For a while, neither of them said anything... or moved.

“So, then,” she said, tapping her hooves together nervously. “I suppose, uh… we’re dating.”

Spike held his hands behind his back and rocked on his feet. “It would appear so… Indeedy-doo, it does…”

Scootaloo rubbed at the back of her neck and looked around the clearing, trying to find something interesting to break the awkward moment that had snuck up on them.

She leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially: “What do we do now…?”

Spike opened his mouth to respond, but snapped it shut when no answer came to mind.

“I… I dunno…”

“What do you mean you don’t know!?” Scootaloo shouted in mild panic as she stood and stomped a hoof in the dirt. “You’re the guy, you’re supposed to know this stuff!”

“I’ve never gotten this far with a mare, okay!?” he snapped.

Scootaloo blinked. “Crap! I didn’t think of that! Quick, what was your plan with Rarity!?”

“What?”

She smacked her forehead with a hoof in exasperation and groaned. “What was your game plan for when you finally asked her out, you dumdum?”

“Ummmmmmmmmmm…” he said, stalling for time by really drawing out the M’s. “Honestly? It’s been so long that I don’t even think the restaurant that I had planned on taking her to is still opened. I think AJ exercised her powers as Economics Councilmare and shut them down last year because of rats or something.”

“Ew…” Scootaloo said with a grimace. “Even if it’s not shut down, let’s not go to the rat place for our first date, please.”

“Should we go have dinner somewhere else…?” Spike suggested hopefully.

Scootaloo held her hoof to her stomach and made a face like she’d tasted something bad. “I dunno, I kind of had a big lunch… I think that acting troupe Pinkie hired is rehearsing for the new theater’s first show. I bet if we ask her she’d let us go watch.”

“What’s the play?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow in suspicion.

“It’s one of those foreign ones she likes,” Scootaloo said as she scratched her chin thoughtfully. “Think she said it was called Tenchi Mule-O. It’s about space-donkeys or something.”

“Ew, no,” Spike quickly said with a shake of his head. “How about we just go for a nice walk through Whitetail Woods? You could work up an appetite and I can stretch my legs after that long train ride.”

“Oh! Perfect!” Scootaloo squealed happily. “Then we can go get nachos!”

Spike gasped. “Yes! Nachos would be amazing!”

“They’re the most romantic food!” Scootaloo explained. “Who’s the most awesome couple?”

“We are!” Spike replied with a grin.

“Up high!” Scootaloo shouted as she stood on her hind legs and lifted a hoof above Spike’s head.

Spike jumped up and returned the high-hoof.

“I was worried there for a second,” Spike said with a laugh as they headed off down the path leading into the woods.

“Right?”

“I think we’re just going to have to take our time and make our own rules about this dating stuff,” Spike suggested.

“Totally,” Scootaloo said in agreement. “We both know each other pretty well, so I think the best thing to do is just work on the intimacy stuff, ya know?”

Spike smiled and maneuvered himself closer to his new mare. He placed an arm around her as they walked and she reciprocated with a wing across his shoulders. It made walking a little awkward, but the benefit definitely outweighed the inconvenience.

“Hey, what about work?” Spike asked suddenly.

“Ah, screw it,” Scootaloo scoffed. “You’re the kingdom’s viceroy, aren’t you? I’m pretty much dating my boss’ boss’ boss. Just write me a note or make Thunderlane do pushups or something.”

“Official Ponyville business?” he asked with a chuckle. “As long as you promise not to make a habit of it, sure, I’ll tell him later.”

She leaned over and gave his cheek an affectionate nuzzle. “I am eager to be of service to my kingdom,” she said, trying to purr flirtatiously. In her inexperience with flirting, it came out less like a purr and more like a spooky growl. “Now, tell me all about what went on in Canterlot.”

The Surprisingly Complicated Love Life of Spike the Dragon

by King of Beggars

Chapter 1 - Open Eyes and Little White Lies

Chapter 2 - Shock, Then Blah

Chapter 3 - Be Brave

Chapter 4 - The End of the Thing