> Spike Is Screwed
>  by Geoice
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Help
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


	The bell rang and the students of Canterlot Jr. High flooded out the doors with cheer. Many of which instantly pulled out their phones to call a friend to hang out or help with homework. Everyone loaded into their parent’s cars and buses ready to leave school grounds… well almost everyone.



Fifteen minutes ago, 



	A group of five boys ran along  the edge of the Jr. High district, within the Canterlot High property. They were in their last class that took place at the high school football field. Usually they have more than enough time to catch the bus but on this day, fearing they would be late, someone suggested they take a shortcut. When they could finally tell up from down they had found themselves on the opposite end from where they had to be.  Now Spike, Rumble, Pipsqueak, Snips and Snails are running along trying to get to the buses on time.



	“This is all your fault Snails." Snips said as they jogged their way through the campus.



	“No, it's your fault. You're the one that said turn left at those doors.” The taller boy bickered to his shorter friend.                           



	“You were the one that said it was a good idea to go through the lunch room!” Snips shot back.



	“You're the one that asked those seniors for directions!” Snails returned with fire.



	“How was I supposed to know that they were lying to us?”



	“When they said cut through the girls restroom, you idiot!”



	“No you're the idiot!”



	“You're a bigger one!”



	The shortest one in the cluster, Pipsqueak had enough of the two’s rambling. "Stop it, both of you!" Pip said in his British accent. “We get it, but don't we all make mistakes from time to time. If we keep fighting like this we'll get nowhere in life. You're both friends, don't fight over things that don't matter."



	The group recovering from Pipsqueak's outburst, all nodded their heads in agreement with his words.



	“Snips I'm sorry for the outbreak, I didn't mean it.” Snails apologized to his companion still running along the campus walkways.



	“I'm sorry too bud, if anything I'm the idiot here.” Snips said, laughing under his breath.  



	“Oh no, I was the one that messed up here, I'm the idiot.” Snails said.



	Oh no... Spike thought. The fight then reloaded for the second match. He rolled his emerald green eyes in annoyance. They’re worse than Applejack and Rainbow Dash.



	“No! I'm the bigger idiot!” Snips fired.



	“I'm a bigger one than you!” Snails countered.  



	“I'm a bigger one than you'll ever be in your whole life!” Snips yelled.



	Then the fight went on, each of them blurting out things that many would regret to the end. The battle raged with fire as they claimed their own mistakes in life.  



	“I told Cheerilee that my fish ate my homework! Beat that!” Snails shot out.



	Several pointless examples of self-stupidity later. 



	“I said that the president needed my textbooks for a week! Ha, I got detention for that!" Snips smiled with false pride.


	“I sent her a valentine card on Easter Sunday!”



	“I stare at her butt in class every day instead of paying attention!”  Snails said with his battle cry.



	The whole group came to a sudden halt next to some windows that lead to the gym. They stared at Snails, bewildered by what they had just heard from their friend. All of their jaws were hanging open with their right eyebrow held high. They all stood in silence, no one brave enough to even speak one syllable. Time passed to what seemed like eons, the air tainted with the taste of awkward. It was so intense that it could stop even Pinkie's wildest parties dead in its tracks.  Then Snips looked down at his watch.



	“Hey guys” Snips said, breaking the tension. “Would you look at that? The coach lets us out early we actually have ten minutes till the bus leaves. How bout that?” Grim glares spread throughout the group.  



	Then everyone, except for Snails, whacked Snips upside the head with full force. "You're the idiot!" They yelled.  



	“We all got worked up over missing the bus because we thought we were late. Now you tell us that we still have time, all that for what!?” Rumble shouted, clutching his fist in anger.



	“Hey, take it easy it’s not like something went terribly wrong, right?” Spike said, trying to calm Rumble before he beats Snips to pulp.



“Do you have any idea who I ran into while we were following his directions!” Rumble stated with his face blazing.



	“You ran ahead of us to the doors and then when you came back out you didn't say anything.” Spike said. “Who did you run into?”



	Rumble sighed squishing his face with his hand. He looked down at his feet trying to think of the words to the event that took place in the girl’s restroom room.




	“I ua... kind of ran into...Cloudchaser and Flitter.” He murmured.



	“Who?” They asked.



	“Cloudchaser and Flitter...” Rumble replied.



	“One more time.” Spike said.



	“And this this time a little louder.” Pip added



	“Yeah, you kind of sound like my friend Fluttershy.” Spike chuckled.



	'How I got paired up with six girls in the first place is still beyond me,' Spike thought.



	Rumble inhales deeply. “I ran into Cloudchaser and Flitter..." He shifted where he stood. 



	“Right when they were...” He gulped. “While they had their shirts off and were adjusting their bras.”



	They all stared at their flustered friend. Dead silence filled the atmosphere 



	“Well, that was a higher aspect of your day." Spike chuckled, earning a glare from Rumble. 



	“Well, at least it can't get any worse than that, right?”



	Rumble face was still beet red. "Are you kidding me!? How am I supposed to look at them straight in the eye ever again?"



	Abruptly the group was frightened by the sounds of a fight, however they couldn't see anyone else other than themselves. Curious as to what the commotion was about, they followed the source of the sound. Steadily they tip-toed their way toward the sound, their pace slowing down as they drew closer and closer, still fearful of what it could be. The echoes grew louder and louder each passing second, as they cowered behind each other with Spike in front.    



	Tension continued to rise as they approached the corner of the building that the sound seemed to resonate from. The heat of fear roared within their minds. Quicker than they imagined they reached the end Peering over the side, expecting to see some kind brutal brawl, they found that there was no one there. No blood or bodies that could have been left after what was thought to be a massacre.



	A smack drew their attention to a nearby window.  They cautiously proceeded toward the window. Despite the festering fear, their curiosity was far greater.  They peer over to see the unknown horror, expecting a possible mutilation. When they finally are there and see around the corner they find a figure punching a sand bag just below where they were peering. 



“Wow…” They muttered as they watched the individual beat the sand bag with unimaginable force. All the fear washed away as they witness groundbreaking tactics that would easily put any one of them in the hospital. They couldn't identify the mystery person due to the fact that the individual was wearing a cap covering their face. Swing after swing the unidentified personnel punched the sand bag, knocking off bits of dust with each killer blow. The astonishing speed left the group stuck into place with their jaws hung open.



	“Whoa, look at all those hits that guy is laying out!” Snails said in awe.



	“No, what about those high kicks he's doing, now that's awesome.” Snips said.



	“If you guys fight one more time I'll see if I can do those moves,” Rumble said staring them down. Snips and Snails had excitement in their eyes. “And you two would make the perfect idiots to knock around!” He stared into their souls, grinding his teeth with eyes that would scare the hell out of a psychopath.



	“Understand?” The two gulped, then nodded their heads. “Good.” Rumble smiled then turned back to the mysterious character like nothing happened.  



	Spike and Pip glanced at one another shocked. They didn't even know Rumble had a single angry bone in his little body. They shrugged it off as him finally reaching the end of his rope with the duo today, then resumed watching the violence.  



	Eventually the unknown candidate started to grow tired of their training session. The group watched as the boxer stretch out its arms, then retreated into the nearby locker room.



	“There he goes! Let's follow.” Rumble said.



	“Wait, why do we need to follow him?” Spike speculated.



	“So we can find out who this guy is, dude.” Rumble exclaimed, then proceeded to find another window.



	Pipsqueak followed after Rumble curious as to who the person of interest was. Spike shrugged and started to move along with them until he noticed that Snips and Snails were still frozen in place. He waved his hand in front of them, but he got no response. He snaps his fingers and still silence. So Spike had to resort to the only thing he can think of to break the ice. He raised hand high and slashed it across both of them in the face, knocking them out of their trance.



	“OW! What was that for?” They both said in agony.



	“We're going to see who this guy is.” Spike said bluntly with crossed arms. “Are you coming or what?”



	The two pondered for a little bit then nodded. Spike then proceed to where Pip and Rumble headed in pursuit of the unknown boxer.  The three eventual caught up with Pip and Rumble. They were staring inside a window on the opposite side of the building.  Spike casually walked up to them, but Snips and Snails kept their distance from Rumble as they all looked inside.



	“So where is the guy anyways, I don't see him.” Rumble said.



	"Wait, over there near the lockers." Pipsqueak pointed to the lockers where the mystery guy was. The individual was standing in front of their locker getting out various items such as soap, shampoo, and a towel.



	“I think he's going to take a shower.” Rumble whispered.



	“Uh... guys do any of you find the room is a little strange?” Spike exclaimed



The group taking heed of Spike's words looked around the interiors of the locker room. There were various skirts laying around the room, along with a large number of track shorts. A few bras and panties were laid out around the floor left near the showers. After a few moments the guys began to compose their thoughts, and realized.




	 THIS IS THE GIRLS LOCKER ROOM!



	After realizing where they had followed the character, they brought their attention back to the primary point of interest. She had already discard her cap and bulky jacket revealing the feminine features on her face, not to mention her curves.



	"Wait I know her, that's Gilda!" He whispered, unintentionally tapping the glass.



	Gilda had already removed her shirt, revealing  her sport bra, when she heard the tap. She then noticed the five boys peeping through the window, their expressions quickly change into fear knowing that they were  just caught.



	Anger blazed in her eyes. “You!” Gilda screeched, causing the guys to yelp, jumping backwards.



	“Should we tell her that we thought she was a guy?” Rumble asked his doomed friends.



	“Yeah sure we can do that, then we can all go see the sound of music together,” Spike scorned. “Read the fine print! She thinks we were peeping at her in the locker room from the window! Right when she was taking off her clothes to take a shower.” He grabbed Rumble shoulders and violently shaking as Spike continued. “I Pinkie promise you that she is out for our blood dude, and she won't rest till we are all dead! Then she'll mount our heads over her fireplace!” The whole group gulped.  



	Then the guys heard doors bursting open as if by some kind of explosion. They swung their heads towards the doors barley on their hinges with Gilda running out after them, with death in her eyes. "What do you dwebs think you're doing!?" She roared



	“Ah! What do we do?” They screeched in fear, except for Pip who already started running away from the bloodthirsty beast. The group acknowledged that the little one left the pack and raced after him. “Wait for us!”



	“Where do you pervs think you're going!?” Gilda roared as she pursued the five boys.



	The guys ran as fast as they could away from the teen with the rage of a ferocious griffin. They ran all around the campus trying to escape death. Inside of garbage cans and behind trees. All spots having any hope of safety remained fruitless. Each time they’d hide she always seemed to find them at all corners of the school. And each time she gets one step closer to grabbing them. 



	The whole thing went on for a span of five minutes of constant cowering for their lives, screaming in fear, in running like thieves. The guys fled behind a trash bin, catching their breath.




	“I think we lost her back at the library.” Rumble panted. “We only have...pant pant...four minutes. Pant pant...until the...pant pant...bus leaves.” He sighed




	“We need to...pant pant...get to the bus...pant pant...before it leaves us here to die.” Snips said, on the verge of vomiting. “But where is it?”



	“Spike don't you have some friends here that can hide us or something?” Pip asked laying on the concrete.



	“Sorry guys, Twilight and the others are in class and if we go in there and disrupt them, they can get in trouble.” The group sighs.



	“Hey!” A voice called out to them from behind. “ Yes, you boys from the Jr high, get your butts to the buses right now, look head on over to the Football field. There is a road right next to it that leads right into the bus pick up.” Said the janitor as he dumped his trash in the bin. “Come on, you boys, get going a nice day to yah.”



	As soon as the janitor was out of hearing range, the group scolded Snips and Snails for their ignorance.



	“Ok, let’s get going we need to get to the buses before she finds us.” Spike announced. “If we don't get out of this, you are going to be our shield.” He pointed at the duo grimly.



	Rumble looked over the trash can. “Ok the Football field isn't too far from here. If we run pass that alleyway, we can make it out of here.”



	They all nodded in agreement while looking over the bin to see if the coast was clear. Confirming that she wasn't around, one by one they tiptoed their way to the next building. They rounded the corner stealthily with Spike at the back of the line. Each of them peered over the side spotting their destination.



	“Ok, it's right over there guys.” Rumble Said. “We just need to run across and we're home free.”



	“Right.” Spike whispered. Suddenly he felt someone’s heavy hot breath on his neck. “Snips, stop breathing on me.”



	“Spike, that’s not me. It’s probably Snips doing that”



	“I’m right in front of you Snips!” Snails muttered, while the rest of the rolled their eyes.



	“Wait, how are any of you supposed to be breathing on my neck when I’m in the back of the line…?” 



	A sudden heavy wave of silence passed through the alley. Their eyes wide as dinner plates as sweat rolled off their faces and their jaws hung open. They unanimously turned, slowly, trembling in fear as they stared into the eyes of death.



	Gilda stood before them with a malicious expression on her face. She cracked her knuckles sending chills down their spines.


	“So, who's first to die”" She grabbed Spike by the collar with one hand. “How ‘bout you shorty?”



	He whimpered fearfully, “Run guys run,” but they were already gone. "Hey wait don't leave me here! Come back!” He cried out.



	He looked back into Gilda’s eyes. He felt like the smallest thing in the world, desperately trying to get out of her grasp. She clutched his collar like dog on a short leash, locking tighter and tighter not giving him any chance of freedom.




	She pushes him against the brick wall, feet dangling above ground, staring at him coldly. He continued to struggle in her grip, but couldn’t get her fingers to budge the slightest bit. Spike began to feel utterly terrified as she brought him closer to her face death raging in her eyes. He desperately wanted to escape her grasp, wiggling again and again as she continued to stare at him into the windows of his soul.  



	Her face came mere centimeters to Spike’s, her hot breath puffs against his face sending him to a standstill. Gilda inspected the young teen’s face using her right hand, grabbing his chin, turn his head side to side studying his facial features. His body motionless in her grasp close to wetting himself in her hands.



	"Don't I know you from somewhere?" She asked the trembling boy.  


‘Mother’ Spike thought in fear as the older teen held him on the wall. ‘How am I supposed get out of this alive? I wish I was a dog then maybe I can make it out of this.’





  

  
			
> What?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


What Am I going to do?



	Spike whimpered in fear as the older teen pinned him to the wall. He stared into her golden eyes as she stared back into his. All he can see in her scowl was her anger and his imminent death. He wished for a miracle to come to save him from being beaten to a pulp, but there’s no one that can save him now. Nor anyone that knew where he was. His friends fled, fearing for their lives, leaving him behind. He couldn't call out for help because he was afraid that Gilda would make his punishments even worse if he called out. He doubted that anyone would even hear his cries between the school buildings. He knew there was no way out. Everything leads to this point.      



	The worst part was when Gilda saw them peeking through the window, if he only knew it was her then he wouldn't be in this predicament. Now in her clutches, Spike trembled in fear as Gilda held him dangerously close to her face. Looking deep into his eyes as her raging hot breath slaps against his face.



	Sweat begins to roll off his cheeks as she continues to stare into his eyes. Time turned from seconds to several minutes of intense terrifying silence. Spike wanted to just leave and get this over with, even if he gets injured. Even if he does lose some teeth or get a black eye, he didn't care at this point anymore. The silence was killing him and he was pretty sure she had high intentions in aspects to pain.




	Spike closed his eyes, preparing for the worst. 'This is it, goodbye world.'



	“Don't I know you from somewhere?” Gilda asked the quaking boy in her clutches.



	Spike cracked an eye. “W-w-what?”



	She pulls him even closer, nose to nose. “I said, don't I know you from somewhere?”



	Spike gulped. “Uh... Hey Gilda long time no see.”



	“Wait a second.” She continued to stare into Spike's emerald eyes. “You're that kid that hangs out with Rainbow Dash and those other five right?”



	“Yeah, that's right. Every day after school, weekends and holidays too.” Spike nervously chuckled.



	She moved her head away from Spike still holding her death glare. "What were you doing, peeking around windows?"



	"Look Gilda, it's not what it seems, just hear me out!" Spike pleads, holding onto her wrists.  



	She brought him close again. "I'm listening."



	Spike swallowed hard. “We got lost while trying to get to the bus ok!” Gilda scoffed in disbelief. “We were having our PE class in the football field honest!” He wriggled in her grasp.



	“How did you get lost around the girls locker room window?” Gilda asked, eyes still full of raging fire.



	“We heard you while you were hitting around in the gym. And uaa... We thought you were a guy” Spike mumbled.



“Speak up!” She yelled, causing him to flinch.



	“We all thought you were a guy!” Spike shouted in panic. “The reason why we followed you to the locker room was because we were impressed by your skills. If we had known it was you and the fact it was the girl’s locker room, we wouldn't have been peeping! I'm sorry that it happened like this I promise!”



	She narrowed her eyes. "You thought I was a guy?"



	Spike shot his eyes open, and slapped his forehead. "Well, not anymore!" He pleaded. "I-I-I can see that you are a girl! You have nice hair, and even though you have me in a death grip, your hands are really soft." Gilda still glared down at him with her cold stare. "I see that you have boobs... I mean not like I'm looking I don’t seen anything…nor am I saying that your flat. Errrrrr!" He groaned in frustration.



	I really don't want to die today.



	Spike had to think of something to get out of this situation and fast. With not many options left, he said the first thing that came to his mind.        



	“You have a cute face.” Yeah, what backup statement that was. Oh, I'm so screwed.



	“Excuse me?” Gilda asked.



	‘CRAP!’ Spike thought. ‘Why did I just say that? I'll be lucky to just get a black eye if not a broken jaw.’ 



Gilda pondered over the information the young teen has given her. “Okay, so you and your pals were in your PE class, that's reasonable to be on Canterlot High property.” Spike nodded his head vigorously. “Then you got lost trying to find your way to the buses that do pick ups on your side of the school, probably following directions you took from those idiot seniors.”



	“Well... Both, we actually got lost taking directions from two idiots, then they asked seniors where to go and we got even more lost...’ Spike chuckled nervously.        



	“Okay, because of two idiots you all got lost.” Gilda said sternly. “Then you heard me in the gym and watched my training through the window, and you all thought I was a guy. Afterwards you followed me around the building to the girl’s locker room, thinking it was the boy's locker room.”



	Spike gulped loudly. “Uh... Yeah, that sums it up.”



	“So this whole thing was just a misunderstanding, correct?”



	‘Correct.” He squeaked



	“Tell me why I should believe you?” She asked coldly.



	Spike's eyes shrank to the size of a pine needle. “I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please believe what I'm telling you!” He shut his eyes pleading for mercy. “I didn't know it was you, honest. If we knew that we were following a girl we wouldn't…” He was interrupted by Gilda’s hand over his mouth.



	“I heard you the first time dweeb.” She closed her eyes and sighed deeply. “And I believe what you said as well. Congratulations you get to live and won’t be castrated today.”



	Spike sighed in relief. “Oh, thank God.”



	"Besides, if I continued to toy with you like I just did." She smirked. "You already said something about my boobs, don't want to end up talking about my butt now do you?"



	Spike's face blazed a bright red. "You were just toying with me! Why didn't you tell me that you believed me in the first place?"



	“Because it's funny watching you squirm." She laughed.



	Spike puffed. "Well, since we got that out of the way, do you think you can put me down now and get your face away from mine? It's getting a little awkward for me, and if anyone walks over here they'll think we're going to kiss or something."



	Now it was Gilda’s turn to blush. "Right whatever." Then she backed away from Spike, dropping him with a solid thud.



	"Never thought being so close to a girl's lips would be that scary!" Spike sighed while rubbing his rear.



	Spike sat himself up from the ground. "So are we cool then?



	“Hmmm... Well taking it into account that you almost saw me naked, what do you think?” She said with her arms crossed.



	“I’m still deep underwater.” Spike sighed looking down.



	"Deep!" She uncrossed her arms and offered a hand to Spike. "Come on I made you miss the bus, the least I can do is give you a ride home."



	Spike looked at her hand apprehensively for a bit, then accepted her offer. "Alright, it beats calling my mom and explaining why I missed the bus this time."



	“Oh, and one more thing.” Gilda said as she brought Spike to his feet.



“Yeah sure, what is it?” He asked. The next thing he knew, she swung her left hand smacked him across his right cheek.



	“OW!” Spike yelped.



	“That was for the boob remark.” She pointed at him coldly while he rubbed his red cheek.



	He chuckled nervously. “Hehe... Yeah, I guess I deserved that.”How can hands so soft, hit so hard!



	“Well, come on dweeb. We better get going before your friends tells your parents that you're dead.”



	Spike shrugged head down. "Don't want that to happen either."



	“Then come on kid.” She said as she walked past him. “We need to get going before anyone sees us.”


	“That would be bad.” Spike added.



	Ring



	'Crap' they thought as the school doors flew open, sending a cascade of students flooding out.



	The duo then made their way to the student parking lot. It wasn't easy due to the fact that the student body of the entire school was roaming around.  Much to Gilda's dismay, she had to keep Spike at a very close distance the entire way to the student parking lot.



	Then they reached Gilda’s car and regained their personal space. Spike rode up front with Gilda in the driver seat. She started the engine and drove off the lot, hoping that no one noticed that she had Spike in her car.



	Too bad for that.



	In the far corner of the school just a view away from the parking lot, a figure loomed in the shadows. The teen stared at Gilda's car as it departed from the school with disgust. He surely doesn't like the fact that Spike is getting a ride from Gilda, or being on the upperclassman’s side. 



	What is that Namby-pamby loser doing on my turf?



	`~`



	The ride was quiet for the most part for Spike. He wanted to make some small talk to pass the time, but every time he opened his mouth he ends up shutting it, lacking the words to say to her. But he didn't want to sit there and say nothing the whole time. What do you say to a girl that thought you were peeping at her?



	Since Spike wasn't going to start the conversation Gilda sighed, she had to take this into her own hands.



	“So how have you been?” Spike turned to face Gilda. “Other than almost peeing on yourself earlier?” She said, cocking a grin. Spike, other than that side comment, was shocked that she was trying to start a friendly conversation. Last time he saw her, she was the mother of all jerks. Busting out at all his friend that summer she came to town, then seeing her again two years later. Granted, she wanted to kill him during their encounter. Now she wanted to get to know him? The only close contact he had with her was being shoved out of the way. 



	“Um... Fine I guess.” Spike awkwardly answered. "Other than my friends thinking I'm dead. They'll be in for a good one tomorrow to see me resurrected.” He grinned, making her laugh. Ok she's laughing, now I'm truly scared.



> The boss
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


	Spike sat nervously in the passenger seat as Gilda continued to laugh. In most cases, when a guy makes a girl laugh, it's a good sign. But Spike doesn't seem to be thinking that way though. He is still anxious as to what the older female has in store for him.



	“Well I don't know about that.” Gilda said, wiping a tear out of her eye. “But I bet the look on their faces must be priceless.”



	“Yeah, I guess it's something that'll shock them pretty bad.” Spike grinned. “And something worth taking pictures of.”



  “Oh, you have got to give me a copy of those.” Gilda said, tugging at Spike’s arm as they both laugh. As they enjoyed each other’s company Spike started to ease with her presence. ‘She actually seems to be kind of nice, especially when she isn't trying to kill you.’



	“Was it this fun when you were friends with Rainbow?” Spike asked, still laughing.



	He looked over back to Gilda and saw that the happiness that once gleamed on her face had vanished. Now a long, depressed frown was painted over her face as she narrowed her eyes downward.



	“Yeah, I guess it was like this when we were friends.” She said, her voice emotionless. Silence took over all the corners of the interiors of the vehicle. Gilda sighed deeply as she continued to stare longingly towards the floor.



	“Uh... Gilda you okay?’ Spike patted her shoulder causing her to flinch.  



	She shook head, snapping out of her daze. “Sorry, that was my fault. I should have been paying attention to the road.”



	“Well yes, keeping an eye on the road is important, but right now I'm more concerned about you.” Spike rested his hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”



	Gilda tensed in her seat from Spike’s gentle touch. Worried that he did something wrong, Spike moved his hand back. Gilda stared back at the road. “I'll be fine. Don't worry about me.”



	Spike sighs, “Hey, I'll always worry when a friend is in need." He then reached for her shoulder again, but this time keeping it there firmly. “Aren't we friends?”



	Gilda sat there, staring at the young boy next to her. “You consider me a friend?”



	“Well yeah, what else would I consider you?” Spike said scratching the back of his head. “We're getting along nicely right?”



	“But what about what happened when I first came here?” Pondering on her words. “Aren’t I still a jerk to you in your eyes?”



	“That was a long time ago. Despite during our first encounter you shoved me into a wall then yelled at the whole party. I know what you did was wrong, but that was then. And right now I see that you can be kind, nice, and someone I’d like to get to know.” Spike smiled. “You know, after I get over the fact that you almost killed me.” Then they both shared a laugh.



	She wiped a tear from her eye. “Sorry about that, I really thought that you were going to peep.”



	Soon Spike's laughter died down, an important question dawned into his mind.



	“Hey, I got a question for you.” Spike said. “Why was there a window in the girls’ locker room anyways? I understand there's supposed to be a small windows for ventilation. The one we looked through was pretty small, but it was really low.”



	“Well that's a good question, Spike.” Gilda said. “I asked that same question when I transferred here a few weeks ago. Based on what the coach told me, that locker room was built not too long ago, during the summer I believe. You see, the constructor made the mistake of letting his son help out with the blueprints. That idiot thought it would be funny to alter the plans before the windows were put into place.”



	“Wow that explains it I guess.” Spike said. “But what ever happened to the son? Didn't he get in trouble or something?”



	“He did actually." Gilda grinned. "Soon afterwards, when the school found out, they sent him to community service.”



	“Well that's not too bad.” Spike said, then noticed Gilda’s grin widening. “It doesn't stop there does it?”



	“Do you remember reading an article of a guy being covered in tar and feathers?”



	“I think I read that one time when I was helping out at the library a few weeks ago.” As a lightbulb went off in Spike's head, his eyes widen in surprise. “What? No way! That was him!?” Gilda nodded. “Whoa, who did that?”



	“You're looking at her, shorty.” Gilda said. Spike stared at her in awe. “For you, it was an accident peeping through the window and the reason why you didn't get beat up. There were others that did the same thing with different intentions and let’s just say that they learned their lesson after I... talked to them.”  



	Spike gulped. “Well I'm glad to be here then.” He chuckled nervously.



	Gilda leaned over to him booping his nose again. “Otherwise you'll be hitting high notes for quite a long time.” She grinned, getting back into her seat.



“You must really love terrifying me, don’t you?” Spike said. And touching your nose with mine while I crap myself!



	“What can I say? It's funny to see you squirm.”



	Spike huffed. “Great now I got another girl that likes to take my dignity. Is there anything else you want to take from me today?”



	She grinned deviously. “You may want to watch your words.” She winked at him causing him to blush and laughs at his reaction.



	“Will you please cut that out? You're lucky we're in a moving car where no one can hear us.” He groans.



	“Come on, squirt. You're fun to mess around with. Besides we're alone.”



	“Well as long it's a between us then I guess, but please don't go too far at least.” Spike plead.



	“I'll try.” Gilda said. Then something crossed her mind. “Wait a second, how long does it take for the bus to come to your house?”



	“Well...” Spike pondered. “An hour or two at the least, why?”



	“Who is at your house when you come home?” She asked.



	“My mom.”



	“Wouldn't she find it strange that you come home earlier than usual?” Gilda raised her eyebrow. “She would be asking questions right? And I'm pretty sure the locker room incident thing would be the worst thing to bring up.”



	A crash could be heard as Spike digested this bit of information. How would his mom react to him coming early? Surely she would be happy in the beginning but what about after... "Ah crap! I don’t want to tell my mom that. What am I going to do?!”



	“Hmm... Are you hungry?” She asked.



	On que Spike's stomach growled. “He...he… I guess I'm pretty hungry.” He said sheepishly. With the threat of death no longer looming over him the hunger Spike usually feels at the end of class comfortably reared its head.



	“We got two hours to kill. Know any place where we can eat?” She asked.



	“Wait, just the two of us?” Spike asked, unsure of what she meant.



	She grinned. “Unless you want to invite one of your friends and tell them that you met me while peeping through the window of the girls’ locker room.”



	After hearing that, Spike sank into his seat. “Well there's a burger place not too far from here and the fries are fantastic.” He resorted.



	“Alright, it's a date then.” She said, winking at him.



	Spike’s face blazed red at the statement as Gilda laughed.



	“Not again!” He groaned in frustration. Gilda only laughed louder down the road.



                                                                                                                          ~`~    



	A few minutes later, Gilda drove up into the parking lot of O’Donalds. Once the engine was turned off they exited the car and entered the building. Though they didn't notice the red car that followed them.



	“What is it that makes place so great anyways, squirt?” Gilda asked as they made their way towards the line.



	“Well, the food here is excellent and based on how Twilight evaluated it when we came here as a group, it's good.” Spike replied.


	“How does she evaluates it?”



	“Well it was kind of hard to hear what's she's saying when she had the entire tray in her mouth.” He said as they both laugh.



	“You’re really funny. You know that, Spike?” Gilda said in between breaths.



	“I try.” Spike said with a smirk.



	“I haven't laugh like that in a long time. I might have to have you around for a while.” She chuckled, lightly nudging his arm.



	“That's what I do for my friends.” He said.



	“Alright I'm going to go wash up, shorty.” She chuckled. “Can you order my meal for me? No mayo, well done and everything on it, okay?”



	“Got it, Gilda.” Spike said, proud of himself.



	Gilda got to eye level with Spike, her smile gone and replaced with a small frown. “Look kid, don't think I'm going soft on you. Just because you’re a good dweeb doesn't mean you should fear me any less.” Gilda said, getting into his face yet again. “In fact you should fear me more."



	Spike gulped, "Okay."



	“Good.” Gilda said before she walked off. Crap! I'm never gonna get used to that. Spike thought.



	As Spike stood in line, a teen with a red jacket stepped through the entrance, staring grimly at Spike. With a malicious grin he made his way towards Spike with a dastardly plan in mind. He pushed away a passing kid and took their drink before he cut through the line.



	He stopped behind Spike, grinning as he put his plan in motion. He took the top off the cup and held it above Spike's head, drenching him in soda.



	“Uaaa! What did you do that for, you jer...” Spike turned around and met the eyes of someone that he hoped to never see again.



	“How does the soda feel, loser?” Garble laughed, then tossed the cup at Spike's face.



	Instead of flinching, Spike held his poker face and stared at Garble.



	“What do you want, Garble?” Spike asked annoyed.



	“What I want to know is what you’re doing on my turf, loser.” Garble said, poking Spike's chest.



	“Your turf?” Spike scoffed. “Last time I'd checked you don’t even go to school anywhere around here. And you were arrested a year ago!”



“Because of you, Namby-Pamby low life!” Garble shot with rage.



	“You were trying to smash eggs of a newly discovered bird, that was also extremely rare, I must add!”  Spike fired back. “And what's is up with Namby-Pamby? This isn't the 80's dude! If you're going to insult me at least use words that are up to date!” 



	“You can't tell me what to do, dork!” Garble said, getting angrier. “Someone ought to teach you a lesson.” He raised his fist and punched Spike square in the face. Everyone gasped as Spike fell on the ground in agony.  



	“Ahahah, see? Without your friends around, you're weak!” Garble laugh.



	“Hey!” A voice called out from behind. “What do you think you're doing to Spike?!”



	Garble turns around to see Gilda standing outside the doors of the girl’s restroom. She was indeed pissed off, but Garble didn’t recognize her field of emotion. His mind was too caught on her body.  Not to mention wondering what color panties she might have.



	“Well aren't you a hot piece.” Garble said in a cocky tone. “Hey, how about I finish beating this guy up and we can go somewhere else, babe?” He said walking up to her. “What do you say?”



‘Oooooh wrong move’ Spike thought, wishing he had a camcorder.



	Gilda’s left eye twitched with rage at the audacity the teen had to talk to her like that. She then delivered a punch right into his stomach, causing him to fall on his knees.  



	“Sorry, but I'm here with Spike.” Gilda said as she walked passed the teen.



	“You prefer that loser over me?” Garble choked, laying on the floor in pain. 



	“He's not a loser. He's my friend." Gilda said, she kneeled down to check on Spike.



	“Are you okay?” She asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.



	Spike sat there rubbing half his face, staring at Gilda with amazement.



	“Uaa... I'll be fine.” He said, removing his hand revealing a black eye.



	Gilda gasped. “Look what that jerk did to your eye”" She put her hand on his left cheek.



	“Uaa... Seriously I'll be alright.” Spike said. “Let’s just sit down and enjoy our meals."



	“But what about that guy?” Gilda asked, pointing at Garble. “I still think he needs a beating.”



	“Naa… let’s get back to what we were doing. Besides he’s not worth our trouble.”



	“But what about your eye?”



	“Don't worry about it.” He brushed off her hand.  “I’ll be fine, really! Let’s just get on with our lunch.”



	Gilda stared at Spike and then at Garble, still on the ground in pain, and Spike again.



	“Not worth our time?” Spike nodded in reply. She still felt somewhat unsure in Spike’s decision. She actually wanted to beat Garble some more and give him more than just a black eye. But the reassuring expression on Spike's face set her at ease. She sighed heavily. “Alright I trust you.”



	Gilda helped Spike up to his feet and then they made their way away from the scene.  Garble had other ideas. He limps up onto his feet with pure rage in his eyes.



	“Hey where do you do you think you're going, loser?!” Garble roared as he charged towards Spike. "I'm not done with you yet!"



	Garble made his way to Spike with his fist held high.  Gilda saw what he was about to do and prepared to defend Spike. Though someone else beat her to the task.



	Garble screeched as he was hosted up in the air by an overwhelming force. “What the hell-!”



	This caught Spike's attention, causing him to turn around. “Oh hey Bulk, what's up?” He smiled.



	The tall, buff weightlifter looked over back to Spike and smiled back. “Just taking out the trash, little bro.”



	“Awesome dude. Thanks for keeping the community clean.” Spike gave him a thumbs up.



	“Yeah!” Bulk cried out as he threw Garble out the door and into the parking lot, right on the jerk’s car. Some of the other patrons cheered at the display.



	“Alright. Now that that's over, let's go eat.” Spike said with excitement.



	Gilda stared between Spike and the door a few times. “What was that about?” Gilda asked confused. “How did you know that guy?” 



	“It's a small town. Everyone knows each other.” Spike explained. “We all have each other’s back all the time and word gets around pretty fast around here if someone got beat up or is going to be.”



	“Huh.” Gilda said, surprised with the answer. “Well, let's eat then.”



	“Awesome!” Spike said with his fists in the air, causing Gilda to giggle.



	“You're such a dweeb.” Spike frowned. 



	“Order up for Spike!” Called the cashier.



	“Well there's our order. Should we eat at a table or do you want to keep standing around until another jerk shows their face??" Gilda said.



	“Table…” Spike muttered. He walked over and grabbed the tray. “Thanks for the food.” He said to the female teen behind the counter.



	“No problem Spike.” She said with a smile. “And enjoy your date with your girlfriend.”



	Spike face blazed. “She not my girlfriend! We’re just here to kill some time.”



	“Yeah, sure... Let’s go with that.” She giggled. “If things goes well she might give you kiss, and if you're lucky it might have some tongue~!”



	“Okay! Bye Flitter!” Spike called out quickly, before running off back to where Gilda was. “Got the food, let’s eat." He said as he came up to Gilda.



	“It's about time squirt.” She said. “Beating that jerk made me hungry.”



	“I bet it did. Watching you beat him made me hungry.” They both laughed.



	“Come on dweeb, let's eat.” Gilda commanded, leading the way to the table.



	“Alright, alright I'm going." Spike rolled his eyes. "You don't have to be bossy about it."



	Gilda came to a complete halt, shifts her body around towards the short teen and bends over to eye level. “Okay then, you just try telling me what to do.” She grinned. “That is, if you can handle me?”



	Spike stared deeply into her golden eyes in fear. "Okay, you're the boss." He whispered, feeling much smaller than he was.



	“That’s what I thought, squirt.” She smiled as she walked passed him, patting his back.



	‘At this rate, I might actually crap myself.’ Spike sighed. ‘Well at least it beats walking up laying in a ditch in the morning, that’s for sure.’



	“Come on! Don’t make me come get you!”



	“Okay! Okay! I'm coming” He said as he scampered behind Gilda.



	This may take a while.

	
> Awkward conversation 
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	‘Well… at least she’s more decent to him compared to what happen two years ago,’ a figure thought in the far back seats of the restaurant. 

“It’s off to a rough start, but this might actually turn into something big.” her pink hair bouncing between giggles. “Though I don’t think she has any intention of letting Spike be dominant by the looks of it,” she grinned. “That shouldn’t be a problem at all. Well… except maybe when he turns eighteen, then things might stir up a bit for him.” She cover her mouth with her hand, preventing herself from blowing her cover.

“We would just have to wait and see…” She said with a sinister grin lifting her right leg over left, staring at the two individuals. “They just need the right… push.”

Spike and Gilda felt a cold shiver down their spines, despite being inside a place with people everywhere. They couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched.  They both turned over to the booth where they thought the odd feel was rendering from, but the seat was empty.  All that was there was a single purple cupcake on the table.

“Did you feel that too?” Spike asked.

“Yeah, I did” Gilda muttered rubbing her eyes. “It felt very disturbing. Like the first and last time I watched a Jason Voorhees movie.” 

“For me it was like a nightmare I had once.” Said Spike, he shivered remembering the details. “It was about making Cupcakes and Pinkie Pie.”

Gilda raised an eyebrow, “That doesn’t sound like a nightmare. Its sounds more like a banned baking commercial for being too annoying.” She said crossing her arms.

“Oh yeah,” Spike said in a neutral tone. “You try to be the super-duper fun filled Ingredient to her cupcakes.” A shiver seem to permeate his body. “ I'll never look at a melon baller the same way again..."  Spike finished with a huff.  

“Um…” Gilda raised an eyebrow. “Are you ok? Did you get hit hard in the head or something, because she doesn’t look scary at all? Not with all that pink she has on her and puffy hair. Is your head screwed on right dweeb?” She nudged the top of the short teens head, ruffing his hair.

Spike slapped her hand off head, “Hey! I had nightmares for weeks because of that. Do you have any idea how hard it was not to have a nervous breakdown when I got near a cupcake? Or having the feeling that someone was watching you through your window when you sleep at night.”

Gilda laughed and ruffled his hair much to his dismay, “Whatever you say shorty. I bet you would’ve made a tasty batch of cupcakes.” She gagged as they sat down. 

“Are you kidding me? Do you have any idea how long it took to get over that? There were time that I was too scared to get a milkshake from there.” 

“And I guess you were so terrified when she gives you a hug, you were breathless,” she taunted resting her chin on her hand.    

“Well, actually I’m always breathless when I get a hug from her regardless.” Spike said, taking a bit out of his burger. “It’s kind of hard to escape from it most of the time.”

“I wonder why,” Gilda chuckled. “Does she smoother you in her breast, rendering you motionless.” Spike blushes, a tomato slips out of his burger. “Pervert.”

“Hey! I’m still going through puberty. Do you have any idea what she does to me with those hugs?”  

“Whatever you say you perverted dweeb,” Gilda rolled her eyes taking a bite out of her burger. “You are just lucky that I find you a good dweeb. Otherwise I would’ve socked worse than that other dweeb when you commented on my breast. I suppose you have erotic dreams about that party girl.”

Spike face slapped, “Do you think you could keep it down? We are in a public place must I remind you. Someone might hear you.”

“Too late!” a cheerful voice called from the other side of the restaurant. 

Spike slams his head against the table, “Thanks for starting the rumor that’ll ruin my reputation.”

“Oh come on, it’s not the end of the world.” Spike locks his eyes onto Gilda’s. 

“Are you kidding me?! ” Gilda shrugs her shoulders. “What if my friends find out? Twilight and the others, what would they think if they thought I had dreams like that? And most importantly what would Pinkie Pie say?”

“I don’t know you tell me,” Gilda said, she continued to eat her burger, half caring about Spike’s predicament.  

“I don’t know either. That’s why I’m so afraid,” Spike said as he nervously ate his burger and took a big sip of his Pepsi. 

“You might get laid,” Spike choked then spat out his drink. “She does sound clingy.”

“She is just being friendly, it’s nothing like that I swear!”   

“Yet, you are the one that is having wet dreams about your friends.” Gilda smiled.

Spike groan, “I never said I had wet dreams about my friends Gilda. We were talking about my frosting dreams about Pinkie Pie.” Another tomato slipped out of his burger as silence took over their booth. 

Gilda stared at the young blushing teen awkwardly as she sipped loudly out of her drink. She inhaled, setting her cup on the table with a solid thunk. “Well…what ever happen to watching what we say in public?”

Spike sighed slamming his head on the table again, “Please don’t tell anyone. I beg you not tell anyone.”

Gilda laughs, “Don’t worry about it shorty. Your secret's safe with me, or should I say your dirty secret.”

“It only happened once!” Spike plead.

“Yeah… yeah I don’t care how repetitive your dreams are.” Gilda rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry about it dweeb, it’s normal for boys your age for that kind of stuff to happen. Just don’t be going around peeping at girls through windows,” she chuckled.

Spike rolled his eye, “Ha…ha all right. I think the near death experience was enough to tell me that. Thank you very much.”

“No problem shorty. I got a pretty good kick out of it and I would surely like to scare your pants off anytime of the week.”

Spike narrowed his eyes, “thanks, but no thanks. I would like to keep my pants on around my waist where it belongs. And I don’t plan on it coming off anytime soon either.” 

“Well would just have to see about that squirt. Because of what I saw less than an hour ago you were quite scared in my, I quote, soft hands,” She grinned. “Your pants could came off all together, if I frighten you some more in that dark alley between the school buildings. Then you would have gotten really screwed,” She chuckled. 

Spike stared at Gilda with his jaw slightly open and his left eye squinted. He then rubbed his temples on both sides of his head. “Thanks a lot Gilda, for…that mental disturbance that will probably scar me till next week.”

“Just watch a violent movie or something,” Gilda rolled her eyes. “That should do the trick if nothing else.” 

“Have any recommendations for me. I got Netflix so tell me a title and I’ll find it.”

“It depends,” Gilda rubbed the bottom of her chin. “Does the dweeb have any homework to do today?” 

“It’s Friday Gilda I don’t have any homework. Besides I often finish the homework in class before anyone else, I have a ton of free time on my plate.”

“Well then, I recommend Django for you.”

“What’s it about?” Spike asked. “I haven’t seen that movie yet.”

“Do you like cowboy movies,” Spike nodded his head. “Good, then you’ll like this one as well dweeb.”

“As long it’s not a horror film, its fine with me I guess.” Spike shrug his shoulders finishing the last of his burger. “Well I’m done, how about you?”
“I was done way before you were. I was just waiting for your slow pace eating to finish your kid’s meal.”

“Hey! I got the same thing you did.” he winned

Gilda laughs hysterically, slamming the table with her right hand on the table repeatedly. Spike watched her with a blunt expression, holding his drink keeping it from falling over by the rumbling of the table. Not so much for his fries which fell over to its side. He lifts his head upward and sighs with slight frustration.

‘Why do I always have to be the smallest one in these situations?’ 

After a few minutes Gilda’s laughter died down. She wipes a tear from her eye, then reaches over and snatches some of Spike’s fallen fries and eats them. “You are way too easy to mess with, you know that Spike?” she said, mouth full of fries.

“I’ve been told before,” Spike replied then taking a long sip of his carbonated drink. Which, ultimately backfired for him, causing him to let out a loud high pitch hiccup. He cover his mouth with a slight blush on his cheeks, Gilda laughs out loud again in his display of deweebness. 
“What was that!” she said in between breaths. “That sounded like someone sat on a squeaky toy or something.”

Spike blush increases, “That was hiccup. People hiccup all the time when they drink a carbonated beverage. Even animals do it, like dogs when they’re pups.”

“A puppy can do a more manly hiccup than that,” She said rubbing her sides. “It couldn’t have be any more dweeber than that.”

Spike lets out a loud huff of irritation and shoves the rest of the burger in his mouth. He chews it thoroughly and swallows it in one gulp.

“Okay, I’m done can we go now?”

        “What are you talking about squirt? We still got half an hour to kill.” Gilda said placing her now empty tray into the garbage. “Come on I think a nice jog through the park would be a great way to work off this meal.” Rubbing Spike on the head, much to his protest,  she began to leave the fast food joint.

        “Geez Gilda, was that really necessary?” He asked trying to correct his now messy hair. 

        “Just reminding you of your place short stuff. Wouldn’t want you to think I am going soft on ya, even with that eye.” Not turning to look at Spike she began to move to the car, Spike following close behind.


> Crap
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	With the blazing heat of the day only getting worse as the sun rose into the sky, everybody was feeling the muggy weight of mother nature bearing down on them. Most chose to tough out the heat indoors. The mercy of at least an electrical fan awaited those smart enough to realise how unreasonable moving outside was. There was, of course, those crazy or passionate enough to move in this heat. Athletes and health nuts were running the course of exercising and keeping fit.

In this blazing heat, it was obvious to everyone that having light clothes was a must. Though even amongst the foolish, there are those more foolish than others. There in the middle of a dirt jogging trail, was one such fool. A short green-haired boy was sweating profusely. Taking deep, gasping breaths, each step would seemingly be his last. Spike looked at the female pacing just a few steps before him.

Gilda, keeping just a few paces ahead of Spike, to serve as motivation, was revealing a decent amount of skin with her compression shorts and crop top. Unlike Spike, whose torrent of sweat left a trail behind him, Gilda only had a light sheen of sweat covering her. With a click of her tongue, she looked at Spike and contemplated how such a fit-looking kid had such poor endurance. Without even trying, the space between her and him was growing step by step.

“Burn off those burgers! Come on, pick up the pace!” She hollers while jogging backwards.

“I’m sweating buckets. I didn’t even know I could sweat so much in my life. This could be hazardous to my health,” He complained, attempting to pull the sweatshirt for a little fresh air, but it was seemingly fused to his chest.

“Stop complaining and just pick up the pace. You’re falling behind.” Gilda rolled her eyes, “What’s wrong with you? Little dweeb getting tired already?”

“Well, I didn’t really come prepared, you know,” Spike said. “I have jeans on right now. Adding to that, they don’t give any air flow, so they’re not really the best thing to wear in this heat. You at least have on shorts and a top. Of course, you’re doing better than me!”

“Didn’t you have some gym clothes in your P.E. class or in your backpack?” Gilda turned back around, keeping her pace ahead of the sweaty teen. “You could’ve changed into those instead of what you have on, you know.”

“You told me that we were going for a short walk! This is obviously not a short walk it’s a freaking marathon! I barely have any stamina in me left.”

“Ha! You can only blame yourself. If you hadn’t been peeping on me in the girls locker... well, who knows, you could have been home, doing whatever pervy boys do.”

“I thought we already discussed this....” Spike wheezed, panting between words before falling over on the ground. “I can’t go on anymore.”

Gilda turned around to the sweat flop laying in the dirt. With a sigh, she walked back until her shoes were right next to Spike’s sweaty green hair. She squatted down, staring at him quite annoyed. He continued to wheeze as if he was having a seizure. Without a care, she dug her nail into his purple sweat drenched shirt repeatedly, not actually knowing if he could feel the pain.

Gilda looked at the fool and imagined oddly enough how close he looked to an eggplant. His green hair covered in sheen almost looked like dew, and his purple clothes almost looked like the plump body in his fallen state. He was like a vegetable... And somewhat lifeless... Startled, she checked his breathing. Only after a tense moment did she let out a relieved sigh.

Unfortunately, all that came out were just weak breaths, other than that the veggie wasn’t moving a single twitch. She raised a brow, patting him on his back with little to the same results. His wheezing came to a sudden halt, adding on to Gilda’s growing concern. She patted his back roughly against his wet shirt.

“Uh... Spike are you okay?” Gilda asked. With no response, she started shaking his shoulders. “Come on, you can’t be that out of shape. We only ran a little more than 7K, that’s nothing.” She chuckled anxiously, hoping the teen would get back up saying it was a joke he was playing to get back at her. Then shortly afterwards she would pound his face in repeatedly with both her fists. Unfortunately for her, and fortunately for him, sort of, he wasn’t playing a prank on her.

“Hehe... there I gave your joke some points. Now get up, dammit, before I make you!”

“...”

“Okay, stop dicking with me, wake up.” She used her free hand rocking him harder side to side. She flopped him over on his back and squatted over him with each of her legs on each side of his body, her butt directly over his abdomen. She grabbed him by his hair, pulling it up, levelling to hers, shaking lightly , “I said wake up, dweeb!”

“...”

“Oh hell,” Gilda sighed in distressed. She let go of his sweaty hair, letting him plop on the dirt.

She examined the young teen’s attire noticing that it did seem very unfitting for what they just did. She took hold of the cloth of his damped shirt, it being a very dark color and somewhat thick. She noticed that his shirt   felt as if it was a soaked tub of sweat along with its stench. Looking at his body, it was practically drenched in his sweat.

Looking down at herself, she had clothing that was much lighter than he wore. She had on a pair of semi loose shorts made of thin gray cloth giving her plenty of airflow with her legs unlike his. Her grey tee shirt that fit tightly around her chest and waist was also light enough in color that it didn’t trap heat in like Spike’s shirt did. Based off how damp her shirt was, he might as well have been a human-sized water balloon with holes in it; she didn’t break a sweat as nearly as much as he did.

His face had several droplets all over, running all the way down his neck. Some of the droplets had stuck dirt to his face. She picked up his left arm by the wrists and wiggled it around. Other than it being covered in sweat, it did look well-toned for a boy Spike’s age. She gave his bicep a hard pinch.

“Hm… that’s pretty hard,” she said, impressed by how well-toned it was. She laid her palm flat on his arm to feel more of it. After a few moments of rubbing his arm, it struck her.

Wait a minute! she thought. She let go of his arm, letting it plop back onto the ground. “Why am I feeling him up while he’s knocked out... or at all!” Standing up, she walked away from the unconscious teen, scratching deep into her scalp...

“He’s definitely out for the count,” Gilda said, rubbing her temples. “Well, I can't take him to his house like this. Nor could I take him there at all. I never did bother to ask him where he lives...”

Gilda looked back at the teen who still hadn’t moved an inch. She walked back to the unmoved teen, squatting over him again. She lifted his left eyelid up with her thumb. His emerald eye had rolled to the back of his head, showing mostly white and hardly any of his cornea.

‘That’s not good!’ She snapped her fingers, trying to grab his attention... Not really effective towards contributing to his nonexistence consciousness.
 
He was breathing peacefully, as though he hadn’t a care in the world, lying down as if he was asleep. To him, it appeared as if he was free of his troubles, drifting in bliss. His face mocked Gilda. She glared at him, raising her hand from his eyelids before she slapped Spike across his face, leaving a red handprint on his cheek.

“Not yet,” She proceeded to slap him, one cheek after the other. After each slap, his cheeks became redder and redder from of hand prints.

“That's for being a dweeb *slap* that’s for having a dweeb face *slap* that’s for having a dweeb voice *slap* being short *slap* the boob comment again from earlier *slap* for sweating like a balloon with holes in it *slap* dweeb hairdo *slap* green hair *slap* not standing up for yourself *slap* perverted dreams of your friends *slap* making sure you don’t have one of me *slap* for making this slapping session boring *slap* and making me run out of stuff to say *slap* being a cute dweeb…” Gilda pauses rethinking on what she said. She looks back down at his face completely red on each cheek complemented with a black eye. It mocked her. “Forget that last part *slap*. ”

After a good three minutes, she ceased the thunderous smacks in defeat, or rather boredom, leaving him with two bright red cheeks and a frown. On the upside, his face no longer had any dirt or dandruff flakes if he had any.

She rocked back, sitting down on his stomach while knocking the air out of his lungs. Subconsciously, he wiggled his arms around, struggling for more room for his lungs to expand. He choked for a bit grabbing her attention, but slowly settling into soft breaths without the slightest sign of response much to her disappointment. The athlete shook her hand trying to relieve the pain of the constant slapping. It was stinging in pain she as she massaged it with her other hand.

“Going to need to put some ice on this,” she hissed. Gilda spread her legs apart, glaring down at the unconscious teen between them. Possibly already in a coma under her butt. “But what am I going to do with you? Can’t take you to your house in a soggy mess like this.”

She placed her palm under her chin, trying to think of her next move staring at him. The teen under her continued with his blissful unconsciousness. Tapping her cheek bone, she pondered on what she was going to do.

“Wait a second,” the athlete grabbed Spike’s head with both hands,pulling it to hers. “What am I supposed to do with you?” She asked, shaking his ragdoll body.

Spike remained totally unresponsive to her despite the violent tugs back and forth. Though she did manage to get him to fling his tongue out which flapped vigorously along his mouth.

Consequently flinging a long stream of spit to her face near her mouth. She let go of the boy, wiping the saliva off her cheek, disgusted . Doing so, she let the boy fall with an unusually loud plunk head first onto the dirt, though it might have been closer to a crack. 

“Crap!” Gilda screeched, she grabbed his head and turns it on its side, revealing a rather large flat rock underneath. “Oh, son of a bi-...”

``````````````````````````````````````````
Somewhere off in the distance
``````````````````````````````````````````
We find Rumble, Pipsqueak, Snips and Snails laying behind a group of trees, all of which are on the verge of puking, panting heavily. Each of them designated themselves a tree to each of them to rest upon. With the exception of Snails, who apparently passed out face first on the ground.

“Uh… I should not have eaten that many pizzas at lunch,” Snips muffled through his hand. “Five slices in one sitting before running for my life, really bad idea.”

“The bad Idea was not getting on the bus when we ran past it,” Rumble pants, laying on his tree’s trunk. “We could have gotten on it, and yet we just ran past it like it wasn’t even there!”

“Yeah, we screwed up on that one,” Pip adds, “I don’t think I ever ran so fast ever in my life. Fear really does make a good motivation to run when your life really depends on it.”

“Yeah, you said it Pip, I’m beat,” Rumble remarked lowering his head. “I guess it’s safe to say that we definitely burned a lot of calories after that fiasco, right Spike?” None heard anything from said teen, causing all of them to raise their heads with the same expression of realisation.

“Um… guys, where is Spike?” Pipsqueak Inquired nervously. “He was right behind us, right?” The group didn’t answer instead that remained fixed in dead silence, none of which having the courage to break it.

“Where is Spike!?” Pip turned to Rumble. “Do you know where he is?”

The questioned teen bites his teeth together sucking in a large amount of air tilting his head up then exhales. “... I think he was behind us?”

“If he was behind us/ then where is he!?”

“Um, guys, I think we actually left him behind,” Snips interjected into the conversation. He sank his back against the tree, lowering himself to the ground. He cupped his face in his hands, groaning loudly in his palms. “In the hands of that psycho girl.”

“Oh crap,” the group replied lowering their heads facepalming.

“What the heck are we going to do!?” Pip yelled, running to each of the everyone's sides, anxiety leaving his pores like water from a faucet. “What are we going to? Should we tell the police? Should we tell his sister that he is maybe, might slightly be, absolutely probably most likely presumably dead!?!”

“Woah, woah, take it easy,” Rumble grabbed Pip by the shoulders and shook him gently, “We can’t be jumping to conclusions right now.”

Pip grabbed Rumble by his wrists throwing them off to the side, “Are you kidding me!? We practically left him to die!” The small kid dreaded as he grabbed the other boy by his shirt, shaking him violently, “His body might be in the news tomorrow morning!” He continued to panic, which earned a hard slap across his face. He fumbled backwards hissing in agony as he rubbed the tendered red cheek.

“Better?” Rumble asked, patting the other boy’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I think that slap got the panic out of my system,” Pipsqueak replied. Though he still felt as concerned three minutes before, but he really didn’t want to receive another slap.

“Okay, so we messed up big time, we know that now. But come on, we know for a fact that Spike is not dead. Of all of us, he is the best when it comes to talking to girls and could probably talk his way out of that situation. I mean, really, what would she do, tear his limbs off?”

“Um, Rumble, how does that help with our situation?” Snips scolded the taller boy. “That’s exactly what she could have done to him!”

“Now wait a second,” Rumble rolls his eyes. “That’s what we think might happen. We shouldn’t be jumping to conclusions right off the bat, here.”

“And where were you when we got chased all around the high school!?” Pipsqueak asked hysterically. “She was obviously going to pound our faces out of our butts!”

“Yeah, but what about when we thought that Miss Zecora was a witch from Africa,” the taller boy replied brusquely.

Pipsqueak held up his finger to respond, then stopped. He thinks over what Rumble said, “That’s a rather fair point.”

“And what about what we thought about Principal Luna?” Snips added. “We were all afraid of her at first, even you, Pip.”

“Well yeah, that’s another fair point,” the small boy shrugged. “That has changed dramatically ever since the Halloween fair a few years back.” He finished, a smile forming on his face, even given the current situation.

“Yeah, you have a crush on her now,” Snips mentioned, which everyone gave a nod to, much to Pip frustration.

“No, I don’t! I just really really like to see her. ” Pipsqueak said, flustered. Much to his denial, the redness of his cheeks didn’t contribute him any support to object the case at hand. “And for the last time, Snips, I don’t have a...”

“STUPID DWEEB!” a loud voice interrupted him mid-sentence, causing each boy to jump near out of their skin.

“What was that?!” They all screamed, quickly slapping their hands over their mouths. The question may have been unanimous amongst them, but the answer was clear shown by the immense fear on their faces.

Collecting himself, Rumble removed his hand from his mouth, taking a deep breath before exhaling. “Okay, this may seem bad right now, but we got to remember that we could be misjudging the situation at hand here,” He insisted, holding up a trembling hand. “So, we left Spike with her, but that doesn’t mean that he’s dead.” He looked at each of his companions hoping for some glimmer of reassurance, a sign of any kind that their goose wasn’t completely and thoroughly cooked.

As much as they didn’t want to admit that they thought their friend was dead, fear and dread kept their response at bay. Each of the two gazed at one another, then back at Rumble with an unsure depression in their eyes. They stared down without a reply.

“Oh, come on!” Rumble stressed under a whisper. His eyes perked up, hearing footsteps along with something dragging meters away from where they were.

Consciously he advanced to the sound passed the group, “Come on, let’s just ask her then,” he stated, causing the other boys to shake their heads furiously in disagreement.

Rumble turned back, getting behind them and pushes them with extensive force, “I said come on!”

In protest, the boys mumbled their pleas through their hands in almost faint muffles, not wanting to draw attention to their hiding grounds. Whether Rumble could hear them or not, he ignored them regardless. He marched them to the highest point of the hill holding both Pipsqueak and Snips by the collars of their shirts. They made an effort to break Rumble’s grip, trying to run back away from the potential death zone, but the effectiveness of it remained futile.

Soon enough, they came to the bottom of the hill close to a nearby medium parking lot holding a handful of ten or so cars stretched around the area. Not a very ideal place if they wanted to hide from some kind of horror, or to their predicament, someone very similar to it.

“What the heck do they feed you at home, rocks?” A feminine voice growled further down the pavement, causing the three of them to come to a sudden halt. “You just had to miraculously hit your dweeb head on a stupid rock! Leaving me to carry your dweeb body to God know where! And not to mention disposing you afterwards!”

‘Disposing?’ the group gulped, instinct stabbing each of their sides, demanding them to run for it. As much as they would have wanted to follow, they were counteracted by the roots of their fears. Moments later, two individuals came into sight closer to the three. Letting out a mouse-like screech, the three dived behind the closest car they could. Fortunately enough, she wasn’t able to hear their shrieks to distinctively tell if anyone was there.

“If you’re not dead now, I’ll make sure you are dead  for later when I put you six damn feet under!” Gilda grunted, irritatedly shifting the boy over her shoulder.

‘Dead!’ the three gulps behind the car. 

“Really, for a shorty that’s afraid of cupcakes, you really are shoving some kind of heavy dough up your a-”

‘Achoo!’ 

A loud sneeze interrupted mid-sentence halting her in her tracks. She shifted her eyes in the general direction of the sound, locking onto a yellow Mustang six meters away from her. The trio, targets in her, domain cowered together in a ball. They all exchanged grim gazes to one another as they rattled in place against the metal of the car.

All thanks to Rumble.

Rumble st on the further side of the car, closest to the approaching beast, rocking back and forth on the pavement he mumbled under his breath. The words ‘I’m sorry’ repeatedly formed over his quivering lips to his companions.

Without gazing upon each other, his two friends responded in the same manner as him silently mouthing.

‘We are going to die! We are going die! We are going to die!’

Gilda raised a brow, curious and unsettled, she proceeded to the vehicle, shifting Spike’s body in a tighter grip. The three cringed as they listened to her footsteps stomp closer to them. Sweat damped their clothes as anticipation built higher.

They gnawed at the end of their knuckles, nibbling hard against the bone as she prowled closer to them. Stressing to the matter at hand, a rather loud ring tone broke the atmosphere in two ways. 

First off, the sound was just enough to alert anything with the ability to hear pinpoint their location. Marking their execution point.

Secondly, the ringtone was a rather peculiar sound. The boys heard it before during their lunch period shared among other classmates. Though those classmates were composed of the girls. As in the sound was the most girliest thing they ever hear comprised in cellular sound. 

The most improbable tone that was to be played at the moment of their own death...

Cute… Puppies… Barking… Repeatedly…

Scared out of their minds as they were, dumbfoundedness was stronger in the concoction of raging emotion dwelling in their entire being. Basically expelling the entire meaning of fear straight from the existence of their minds.

Mere seconds after the ringtone, a solid thunk on the asphalt of Spike’s body, or rather his head crash down. Following that sequence was the screech of the teen girl as she got down on her knees over Spike as if he was a box of glass.

Might as well be shattered at this point.

“Crap, crap, crap,” Gilda yelped. “Spike, if you would please be a good dweeb and not be dead for real this time, it would really make my day.”

As Gilda frantically expected said shattered package to respond, the three wasted no time in making their exit away from the scene. As soon as they were out of sight, they continued their mad dash out to who knows where next.

Her phone continued to ring in her pocket, but was promptly ignored as Gilda frantically checked if he was still alive. She held two fingers against the veins of his neck while checking for air flow.

Thankfully, his pulse was still holding strong, as well as his breathing. A long sigh of relief blew out of her lips, letting the anxiety melted away. She hovered over his unconscious body, creasing his cheek with her palm, “That’s a good dweeb,” she smiled.

She then felt the rumble of her phone leaving a text in her pocket. She rolled her eyes as she grabbed the phone out of her pocket, muttering her anxiety under her breath. Upon viewing the text, her face changed from annoyed to distress.

A heavy sigh broke past her lips as she cast her gaze back to the boy under her. “Well...I guess you’re coming with me, now.”
	
	
	
	
	
	
	
	
	
> Short leash
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sound of crickets chirping echoed faintly in Spike’s ears as his mind roughly shifted back into transition, trying to gather little pieces of what sense he had to form a real comprehensive thought. Ten seconds in his dazed attempt, it proved to be a task too difficult to manage at his current state.

Nothing in mind could explain as to why his head was pounding, or why his cheeks were sore as all heck. He could feel a cold wet cloth resting on his forehead.

The tired teen stitched what little thoughts he could, groaning as the words processed through, “Did I get a head injury on my way home?” 

Everything was too fuzzy in his head to really relay how long he was out. Nor did he care at the moment due to the swelling pain throbbing in his brain. The pain got worse by the passing seconds as he shifted closer back into consciousness.

It was as if someone whacked him from behind with a shovel, practically shattering thousands of pieces of glass inside him. Getting up definitely wasn't an option for him at the moment, nor at least for another seven hours. Laying down was all he could do without causing, even more, pain to surge through. Even twitching his fingers proved to be problematic.

Though on the bright side, he was laid down on something surprisingly soft.

The blankets scuffed smoothly on top of his semi-damp, bare skin. The cushioning underneath gave a rather cloud-like feel; it was almost blissful enough to make up for the hammering pulses in his head.

Whatever was placed under his head was a completely different story. The firm, yet still very soft feeling against the back of his head was beyond the comprehension of words. He couldn’t compose them even if he wanted to; everything was still too hazy to understand where he was. What he did know as a probable fact was that it was probably the most comfortable thing he ever had his head rest on.

“This is nice,” Spike whispered as he snuggled deeper into the warm blanket. He shifted to his side so that his cheek now rest on top of the strange pillow underneath his head.

Its smooth, soft surface brushed gently against his cheeks, which previously burned in agonizing pain seconds ago, felt the healing kisses of its warmth transfer to his skin.

“So silky...” Spike moaned as he placed one hand on top of the pillow, rubbing it tenderly.

“Spike?” a faint voice called into his ear.

He murmured, not taking the motherly sound to mind. He didn't have time to concern himself about the voice speaking into his ear, all that mattered was the pillow under him.

“Spike?” the voice called again.

He groaned. “What is it?”

“You need to get up now, Spike,” it spoke again. “You've been out long enough.”

“Five more minutes,” the small teen grumbled, snuggling harder against the pillow. “Please….”

“But you need to get up now Spike, your family must be worried sick,” the voice insisted, rocking his shoulders. 

“Eh… let them worry,” Spike shifted onto his other side, letting his other cheek have its turn. “I want to stay like this for a while longer.”

“Oh, you're such a child.”

“I like it here.” Spike muffled through his lips. He inhaled deeply, taking a good whiff of the scent in the air, “It smells wonderful.”

“You’re weird.” the voice replied. “If you don't get up soon, I might just do something to your body.”

“Like what?” Spike mentally rolled his eyes, “I said it once and I'll say it again, I'm not getting up.”

The voice giggled, “Do you really want to know, silly billy?”

“Whatever.” he groaned, “Do what you want, I don't care.”

“Is that so?” the voice giggled louder. “Alrighty, if you say so.”

‘Hmm.’ Spike paused ‘Where have I heard that giggled before?’

“That’s all I needed to hear.” the voice finished with a malicious, hyper laugh with its signature snorts at the end.

“Wait.” Spike popped open his left eye, “I definitely know that laugh...” He jerked his peripheral vision upward to meet two round, baby blue eyes reflecting his gaze.

Spike took note of his surroundings as his eyes slowly adjusted past the hazy form of the girl above him. To his left, the blurry outline of balloons appeared near his face, the lower ends of the rough outline encompassing her figure. 

The concerning part of the blur, other than the fact that it was more than likely Pinkie, was where his head rested in the first pace.

He tried to squint his eyes for a better picture, and with some minor kicks to his brain, it became clear how close the outline was from his face, perhaps by about a foot. However, the balloons were much closer to his face than just a foot... which evidently included Pinkie.

“Comfy?” the older teen smiled, ruffling Spike’s hair. “You seemed really happy just a few minutes ago.”

Still, in a daze, Spike had to do a double-take concerning his surroundings. 

One, her special balloon shirt was directly next to his face.

Two, her face was dangerously close to his, so much so that he could smell the radiating sweetness from her.

Three, her legs were nowhere in sight in his current line of vision.

Four, again, her balloon shirt, and what lay underneath, was parallel to the top of his head.

“Uhh….” He managed to cracks out of his throat, staring back at the baker above him.

“So Spike.“ she winked, her nails scratching his scalp lightly, “How do you like your lap pillow? You seemed very fond of them.” 

Despite the surging pain, the gears in Spike’s brain finally had reached its bare minimum capacitance requirement. One tooth clanked against the other's rusted teeth generating his cognition at a steady pace. Turning round and round, his brain reaching limited operation capability. 

“Pi-p-p-p-p-p-” he stuttered, silenced by her finger.

“That’s right, Spikey Wikey, it’s me!” She giggled as she held her finger firmly against the small teen’s lips.

“W-w-what are you doing here?!” he muffled through her finger, only for his splitting headache to force its way through mid-sentence.

He hissed in agony, shutting both eyes in pain as he suddenly twisted his head to the side, causing the wet rag to slip off his forehead.

“Shh…” Pinkie cooed, placing his head comfortably on her lap again, “you can't be overexerting yourself with a boo-boo like that on your head, silly.”

Spike let out a sharp stream of air escape from his lips, “Err…What happened to me,” he moaned through his teeth. “How did I get here?”

“Well, that's easy to explain, Spikey.” Pinkie smiled while she began to rub small circles on the sides of his forehead.

Spike’s body jerked to the slight pain of the sudden physical contact. However, unable to really jump off the couch anyways, he allowed his body to ease. Not long into it, his limbs fell limp, as did most of the portions of his brain.

“I brought you here of course,” After a few sighs of pleasure made its way out of the boy’s mouth, she answered his unasked question. “You seemed really ‘down in the dirt’, so I decided to clean you up.”

“Ohh…okay, but what happened?” Spike mumbled, much caring less about the answer, drifting further into the head message.

“Hmm...“ Pinkie pondered, scrunching her lips, “Well that's a good question, that's something I was wondering myself.”

She moved her attention further around Spike’s head

“Hmm… so you don't know?” Spike cocked his head slightly.

Though the striking pain in his head told him otherwise.

“Ow-ow-ow!” he hissed, flopping back into Pinkie's lap.

“See! What did I tell ya, you don't need to be overexerting yourself right now, you’re in bad shape as it is. You might hurt yourself even more if you don't take it easy,” Pinkie said concernedly as she patted his chest with some force. “Just let me take care of you until you’re better, alrighty!?”

“Okay, okay I'll listen this time,” Spike replied as he tried to rub his temple to relieve the pain.

“Spike!” The baker yelped. The boy ignored her protests, focusing more on the pounding thunder crashing in his skull.

“What?” Spike moaned, half-ignoring her due to the pain.

“SEE! What did I just tell you?” She removed his hands away from his head by the wrists, any protests he might have had squashed as her hands quickly slipped onto the surging areas. “I told ya to let me take care of you, silly.”

“Ohhh....” the young teen hummed as he sunk deeper in her lap.

“See, now isn’t that better?”

As much as he wanted to give a proper verbal response to the baker, most, if not all, of his brain cells, were set straight into hibernation mode, endearing his motor functions even less serviceable compared to the surging pain just moments ago. Instead, he was able to show his bliss more than enough through the pleasure molded on his face.

Pinkie giggled, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Although ‘yes’ would be a normal response to give this sensation in normal cases, this feeling was far way from normal, however. His right foot involuntarily twitched violently under the sheets as his mind and much of his body became dough in her hands.

Though thought processes ceased to compute under the boy’s baked ‘brain’ if it could be called that at this point, only four comprehensive words were able to echo around his mushy skull. Though Pinkie didn’t have to be a mind reader to interpret what Spike was thinking, his facial expressions alone were more than enough to express his gratitude, or how mushed up his brain was at the moment.

‘This feels so… Good!’ Spike murmured in his head. He shifted his head around her lap, purely faded into bliss by her hands, grinding the edges of his cheeks against the palm of her hands, merely enjoying the softness of her hands pressing further on his face. 

Even though he couldn’t spill out any set of syllables to a comprehensive request, Pinkie knew exactly what he was asking for. She slipped her flats palms along the lines of the boy’s jaw, then cupped the sides of his face.

Pinkie couldn’t help but crack into laughter, “Aren’t you a tasty bowl of frosting,” she said between giggles as she mushed his cheeks in her hands. “I could just lick you all over.”

As much as those words would have made him blush, his brain was in no condition to take in or process any words she said. Just as long as her hands were moving on some part his skin, he didn’t care what she said.

Nevertheless, he still gave a response to her, somewhat.

“Yeah…” he mumbled out, not really meaning it as a real response. It was just what came to mind in regards to the pleasure he was feeling. Continuing further in deep into the softness, his right foot twitched even faster to a more vibrant speed.

Similar to how Spike was enjoying his special treatment, if not spot on, Pinkie too received her rather rewarding reactions from the teen on her lap. His blissful face, the adorable murmur that cracked through his lips, and most of all, the sweet sound of his moans as she pressed firmly against his face.

How much she wished she could listen to that sound of his over and over again. Surely if she knew how adorable his moans were, she would have had something to record this session for later enjoyment purposes.

“Hmmm….” Pinkie hummed to herself.

She glanced at his blissful face, easing the pressure off his cheek, yet kept somewhat of a firm grip. She tilted Spike’s head slightly to its right side, then did the same to his left, taking excessive time to capture the full view of how happy he truly was.

The results were rather more than satisfying enough to outdo what she expected. To really narrow it down to a single word was challenging in and of itself without further inspection. Though there was one word that the baker would use at this point.

‘Frosting.’ she mouthed past her lips.

Her smile slowly switched from her previous cheerfulness, one that is usually considered the most contagious face of joy, to something more malicious. If Spike were to open his eyes, or even crack a glance at Pinkie, her lap would be the last place he would want to be.

However, the field of the atmosphere had changed more than enough to set a certain tension in Spike’s chest, along with other parts of his person. Namely the ones that felt, oddly enough in such a comforting position, the most to be endangered.

Senses in the deep part of his brain were telling open his eyes, but those parts were too deep to correlate with any functional action. Spike remained in his state of bliss, enjoying every second of softness.

Sadly, he felt her soft hand lift away from his skin. Not too long after the retreat of her delicate fingers, he could feel his hammering headache creep its way back to his forehead. He inhaled several short breaths, near the point of tearing, as the pain started to crack it way back through his skull. 

A part of him wanted to force out a loud whimper, begging her to continue on forward. In the midst of opening his lips, there was a wet, pasty, soft slab laid across his right cheek. It wasn’t cool as the rag on his head, nor had the texture. The slab felt like a long, continuous strand of some kind of wet marshmallow, going along his cheekbone, further down to his jaw to the end of his chin and ended there.

Spike felt the same paste run from his left cheek down to where the trail ended on his other side. He could quite put his finger on what it was, but it seemed familiar.

However, this familiarity wasn’t one with a pleasant note, nor any sort of comfort for him. Sure, the scent was sweet and pleasant to his nose. The softness of said paste on his skin wasn't discomforting. Nothing was overly wrong with the paste as far as he could tell, but something was definitely off about it.

His curiosity grew, matching his detection of ill will, opening his mouth to ask Pinkie as to what it was that she was so eager to put on his face. Though before he had the chance to ask, he felt a smooth, plastic nozzle touch the top of his tongue. A slight force of the paste slowly forces its way into the cavity of his mouth. It didn’t force in enough to make him gag, instead, it steadily filling his mouth before comfortably stopping when it was about halfway.

The taste of the paste, on the other hand, was a different story. It finally started to send small jolts of energy back into Spike’s thought processes, but his head was still too much in a haze to grasp a full conclusive thought to act upon. Though there was a small spark of instinct in him trying to tell him something important.

A faint nudge in his head pleaded that where he was currently was resting at, or rather whom, wasn’t the best place to do so. But as it was said, it was faint.

Spike mussled out some more brain power, enabling a strain of pain in the process, to creak open his eyelids that were rusted shut just moments ago. The sight before him, pertaining to about everything that was in visible range, made it so that he wished his eyelids really were rusted shut. 

More or less.

Above his nose was the nozzle that was squirting out the unknown substance that has been made apparent. The soft paste itself wasn’t exactly the most exciting either. The pain that Spike had felt just moments ago quickly diminished itself out of his head completely and in its place, or the new location, was a deep sinking feeling in his stomach.

The nozzle continued to squirt the paste on top of his nose as the sinking feeling got deeper and deeper by the amount of the purple substance covered more of his nose further down to his face.

“Fo… fo.. Fo. fro...” Spike mustered, mushing the substance in his mouth further into his mouth. He took his eyes off the nozzle and directed them to the girl above him, hoping for some kind of simple explanation that wasn’t going in the direction that he thought it was going. Unfortunately, the answer to that, drawn clear as day on the teen girl in question’s face, told him it was far worse than he thought.

Above the smaller teen was the same girl physically, but with a few different details. One that was really noticeable was her puffy pink hair had straightened with some hues of her bright color having darkened. Though that wasn’t the most shocking, not by a long shot. Her normal calming, baby blue eyes had changed not only in hue, a darker tone, no less but also in the dilation of her pupils. He wasn’t sure how, but the size seemed to be slightly inhuman. Adding more to the anxiety, those needle-sized windows clearly showed something even more unsettling than the unusual hairstyle.

“Lust” was all he could read in those small, millimeter-wide circles.

“And a little more frosting on the top.” Pinkie soothed, adding a large pile of frosting running down from Spike’s forehead to his nose. “Looking tastier already.”

“Ta-thy!?” Spike muffled, spitting out a little frosting in between syllables. He could now more than ever hear exactly what his head had been telling him, he needed to get 'OUT OF THERE NOW'. Too bad for him, the action wasn’t translating well enough to execute, period.

“That’s right, Spikey.” Pinkie said as she brushed his hair between her fingers with a free hand. She leaned his head down so that his eyes were directly in line with hers.

She leans down lower to his, and to his surprise, takes a long lick of the frosty from his right cheek, trailing dangerously close to his lips, leaving a patch of his skin exposed. After getting a good amount of it, she railed back the frosting into her mouth, taking it all in one gulp, moaning at its sweetness. She then leaned over his eye

“Tasty,” she said, blowing a sharp gust of air into his ear, causing Spike heart to skip several beats.

“Pinkie!” Spike flustered, the exposed skin in the patch of frosting turning a bright red as he attempted to cover it with his left hand.

Attempted, as in it didn’t really do much to hide it.

Try as he might, his hand wasn’t coming up to cover his licked skin. It felt like his arm was wrapped behind his back, connected with his other arm. This quickly became apparent that there was something holding his arms behind his back, restraining arm movement. Startled, he tried to jerk his arms in opposing directions, with fruitless results in his attempts to separate them.

He returned his line of vision back to the baker above him, “Are my arm tied behind my bac-” he asked, only to be interrupted by the nozzle pumping, even more, frosting into his mouth.

“No silly.” Pinkie smiled, squeezing the frosting bag tighter, filling Spike’s inner mouth with frosting,“You’re handcuffed.”

“QU-At” Spike muffed again, as the frosting continue to be squeezed overflowing his mouth. At that point, he was about gag all the frosting all over the floor.

“There we go!” Pinkie cheered, setting the frosting bag at her side. “Enough for two!”

‘Two?! What is that supposed to mean?!' Spike thought as he felt both of Pinkie’s hands grab hold of his head. One on the top of his forehead, and the other at his lower jaw. Without warning, he could feel his mouth jerk wider and a wet, mass of muscle entered his mouth.

His body froze again, he felt the mass move its way along the walls of his inner right cheek, in and out, taking mouthfuls of the frosting and coming back for more. It was getting to all the parts of his cheek where there was frosting lingering and then sweeping back again to leave behind a glaze.

Being frozen meant that he no had control of his body, either if he wanted to fling his head around or even blink. In the case of blinking, it was something that was totally out of the question. Right near his eyes were Pinkie’s, staring back at him as she continued to ‘clean’ the frosting from his mouth. He couldn’t tell if was the shock or the look Pinkie had on or the frosting, one thing was for sure, he couldn’t look away from her eyes. Nor did she with his.

She did not blink, shift her eyes, or anything that meant looking past him. She just wanted to stare at him right in the eyes, capturing every ounce of reaction in his eyes. She wanted to see it all in his eyes; all the candy in the world wouldn’t matter to her right now. She was in the midst of eating out the best thing sweets could never hold flavor over.

Sadly, for her, the frosting was eaten up faster than anticipated. As much as she wanted to continue longer, there wasn’t enough frosting to follow. Finishing off Spike’s mouth Pinkie move forth to the rest of the frosting on his face.

‘What the heck is going on around here?'
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Meanwhile, in Reality)

“Fwaa, what a day!” Gilda sighed, exiting a bathroom with a towel resting on her shoulders. She made her way down the hall towards the kitchen where she went to the fridge and grabbed a cold bottle of water. Twisting off the top, she took reasonably large gulps from the bottle, a little stream of water escaping along the sides of her mouth. After a few crunches of the plastic bottle, it was soon empty of its contents. Gilda then removed the plastic bottle from her lips with a satisfying pop, wiping the excess water from her lips as she tossed the semi-crushed battle to a nearby bin. However, instead of hitting it inside the bin the bottle rebounded off the rim and onto the floor.

Gilda muttered under her breath as she approached to retrieve the bottle, but before she could bend down to pick it up. She was halted by the sound of small paws scurrying against the floor heading in her direction, or more specifically, the empty bottle.

A pup a bit bigger than a chihuahua pounced on the empty bottle, playfully gnawing on the plastic as it rolled around the floor. The sight was more than enough to put a smile on Gilda.

“Well, aren't you happy?” Gilda laughed. She bent down to the pup and pet it behind the ears. The pup drops the bottle in response and hums under its master’s finger, “You had me worried today, you know. You’re lucky that the neighbor called me today before something happened to you,” she continued to scratch down the dog fur moving downward to its belly. “You know you’re not supposed to be running around the neighborhood alone, you little dweeb,” she laughed.

The pup, on the other hand, was panting with pleasure as its right hind back leg twitched violently.

“Now then,” she said, raising her hand off the pup and walking towards the living room. “Let’s go get the stray that I found today.”

The word stray rings in the dog’s ear like a bell. It quickly got back on all fours and ran beside its master, eager to see whom she had brought with her. Was he or she a new friend, were they going to stay here, were they bigger than himself. As long as it wasn’t a cat, then he was fine with it.

“Well Spike,” Gilda paused in her tracks. She gestured towards a couch in front of her to what appeared to be a lump under some sheets, “here he is.”

The pup, Spike jumped onto the cushion of the couch and made his way to said lump. He tugged on the sheets, excited to meet his new potential friend. This, potential, canine may have been way bigger than he was, but having a big brother wasn’t a bad thing to have. However, a set of hands pulled the pup away before he could manage to pull off the sheet.

“Easy there, boy,” Gilda said. “He’s asleep right now, we don’t want to wake him up just yet,” Spike the pup winned then wiggled side to side in his master’s arms. “He’s been having... a rough day and couldn’t go home today. He is going to be staying here till he’s able to get back on his feet before I can take him to his home.”

The pup continued to squirm in Gilda’s arms, trying his best to break free and find out who this new one was. He was just too curious to let it go.

“Okay okay, I get it.” Gilda rolled her eyes. She bends down and let the small energetic dog out of her arms onto the floor. “I’ll show him to you.”

Spike ran around in circles with jumping in the air, barking in excitement all the while. He was finally going to meet a new friend. The last friend he made was such a long time ago. One day ago, to be exact.

“Shhh.” Gilda hushed. “We don’t want to wake him up, remember?”

The pup stopped in place and quickly closed his muzzle, hushing himself with both paws as he sat on his hind legs.

“Good boy,” Gilda smiled. She pinched the top of the sheets and slowly lifted it. The pups tried its best to hold its excitement, however, the same could not be said about the little puddle he was making under himself.

“Here he is, Spike,” the athletic teen smiled, pulling down the sheet to reveal the face. “This is my friend.”

The pup gave a silent bark of glee as he spun around in place. After five spins, he quickly made his way to the side of the couch to see the new dog his master brought. Though, the one under the sheet wasn’t a dog, per say. Instead, the one under the sheet was human, a human boy at that. The dog cocked his head to the side, confused. His master had never brought anyone of her kind before. There was the times when one human would bring a box that contained a circle that could be broken into triangles, but other than that and the one human that leaves paper rectangles, they never came to the door unless it was a box.

This one was different though. The hair on their head was green, kind of like his own, the same could be said about his shirt. He definitely had the scent of a male on him. Again, she never brought anyone home with her, let alone one of the opposite sex. Is it possibly the he is master’s mate?

The pup glanced at his master, curious as to what was the relation she had with him.

“Spike, this is a friend of mine,” Gilda gestured to the young teen on the couch. “His name is Spike, too.”

The pup cocked his head again side, thinking to himself for a moment before he barked excitedly. Though the pup thought it was strange that a human would have a name such as that, same as his strangely, but hey, as long as he wasn’t a cat, he was fine with it.

Gilda pets the dog behind his ears, causing him to thump his leg repeatedly on the floor.

“Let’s just say that something happened before I got here and he didn’t quite tell me where he lived.” she glanced at the bandage wrapped around the younger teen’s head. “But he’s okay. He’ll have a major headache when he wakes up and probably won’t walk right for a while. The swelling on his head and eye would probably be there for a whil-” she looks down to the dog who wore a rather suspicious expression on his muzzle.

“Hey, I know what it seems, but I didn’t beat this guy up,” she looked back at the beaten boy on the couch. “Spike?”

For whatever reason, the boy's breathing started to increase intensely. Sweat started to run down his skin along the sides of his face. Little droplets of his tears ran down his cheeks along with mutters of struggle under his breath.

“Oh shoot, Spike!” Gilda yelped as she lunged forward for the boy, carefully creasing his head in her hands. “Uh… What’s wrong? Are you okay?... Wait, of course, you’re not okay.”

Spike started to struggle within the sheets as he let out moans as he kicked. Gilda tried her best to comfort the poor boy by holding his head closer to her chest.

“Shh-shhh,” the athlete cooed as she rocked his head in her arms, making it quite clear that she didn’t know as to what she was supposed to do. “It’s going to be okay.”

However, the moans that the bandaged boy was letting out didn’t help her any. Each one seemed to be lower, then higher, and lower again. Along with the contribution of the unstable breathing pattern, it would seem to her that he was going through an intense amount of pain. The sweat had steadily streamed its way around his collar again, along with a rather strange musk. However, his scent didn’t matter to her at the moment. Spike was in pain at the moment, and she had to do something to help.

“Spike, get some ice, quick!” Gilda called out. 

The small canine took a second before realizing that she was referring to him and gave a bark in reply before he ran to the kitchen.

The anxious teen turned her attention back to the boy in her arms. The breathing seemed to deepen dangerously along with its unsteadiness. Not seeing any other choice in the matter, she had to make him as comfortable as possible. She sat on the couch and set the boy's head on her lap.

She lifted her reluctant hands over his head, hovering for a moment before she rubbed the sides with the palms of her hands. “Come on, stay with me here! Stay with me!”

Taps of paws drew her attention her dog entering the room along with the bag of ice in his muzzle. The pup jumped to the cushion of the couch and presented the bag to his master. She snatched the bag from the dog's jaw and placed it on the burning teen’s head. The redness of the teen’s face was clear enough that he needed air flowing, and he needed it there and then.

“He’s burning up!” she said, beyond worried. Taking the sheets in hand, she tore the cloth away from the boy to free his body. However, his body wasn’t the only thing that was free. More specifically, in between his legs.

Gilda blinked, recirculating her thoughts as she looked at the boy’s half-covered face and back to the bulge in his boxers. Hesitant, she lifted her right hand with the ice pack off the rest of the boy’s face. The water left by the condensation of the bag drizzled down around his twitching, pleasured grin. A low growl escaped her teeth as she set the bag of ice back over his face. So many things were going through her mind before she had to bring him to her house as it did, but now it was approaching its boiling point. Though two very reasonable alterations for this situation did come to mind.

One, she probably shouldn’t have taken his pants off to the wash.

Second, it might’ve been better if she had just left him at the side of a hospital.

She sighed, muttering under her breath as she laid back the sheet over the boy’s body. She pinched her eyebrows together, relieving the pressure on her forehead and the oncoming awkwardness... though the ‘tent’ becoming more apparent made it even more awkward.

“What am I going to do with a dweeb like you?” she groaned as she laid back on the couch. Between her fingers, the teen glanced at the young boy on her lap, reading the expression on his face.

“No more, please,” he muttered under his breath. However, the smile on his face clearly said otherwise.

Gilda’s left eye twitched, as well as her fingers that held the bag. She picked up the ice bag away from his head and set it firmly onto his groin. This caused the boy to twitch wildly as he grabbed tighter onto the cushion of the couch, clearly uncomfortable with the sudden change of temperature. But of course, that didn’t diminish the smile on his face.

“You perverted dweeb,” Gilda growled as she pressed harder with the ice pack.

To the side, Spike the pup, wide-eyed, watched his master mangle the bag into the human boy’s middle region, shocked. Muzzle agape as he switched glances between his master and the master’s male companion, having difficulty deciphering if he was pleased or tortured. The canine decided that it was probably better if he turns in for an early nap.

He hopped off the couch and made his way quickly to the doorway without another bark. Before he exited, he took a glance behind with one thought in mind.

‘Master’s mate is so screwed.’


> Sleeping In
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Spike the pup’s point of view)

‘Is he dead?’ Spike the pup thought to himself. Before him on the couch, he glanced at the so-called ‘stray’ that his master had brought home.

He leaned his head to the side, staring at the boy, waiting for some kind of evidence of consciousness, or at least a sign of life. A few minutes passed without any results, which in dog years made him worry even more. Thankfully, the boy muttered under his quiet breath and turned his head side. The dog sighed in relief as he wiped a paw on his forehead.

‘Thank goodness, master’s mate is still alive,’ the pup smiled as he approached the base of the couch. ‘I was worried about you for a minute there. A human minute, that is,’ the pup joked.

Sadly, the joke went unheard, and for good reason. For one, the boy was still in his sleeping daze. And lastly, humans don’t speak dog.

‘Oh right, you can’t understand what I’m saying,’ he said, this time to himself while glancing towards the floor. He made his way on top of the cushion, keeping in mind that he needed to be quiet. Though the size that he was made it a challenge on its own.

‘Why does everything that humans make have to be so big,’ he whimpered as he kicked his hind legs behind him. Eventually, he scratched his hind claws against the cloth, gaining the leverage he needed. One front paw after another, he made his way up higher on the soft cushion. ‘If I could do it a while ago, I can do it now.’ he muttered in doggy wines.

Soon enough, he made it on top of the couch. In hindsight, he probably should have just jumped on top on the cushion instead of climbing it. He mentally slapped himself on the forehead then faced the two individuals beside him. His master, Gilda, had already joined her potential mate, Spike, in slumber. This time, they laid on separate sides of the couch. Spike the pup, sat in between the two. To his left, directly in front of him, were Gilda’s feet. The pup glanced about her toes to see her with a remote at hand. On his right, the green-haired boy’s head was mostly covered in bandages. The pup gently put his paws over on his head and looked over a the boy’s face, taking note of the injuries that were clearly visible on his face.

‘Jeez, I’ve heard of tough love, but I think master needs to take it down a notch,’ the pup thought as he drooped his ears.

He glanced forward further down the boy’s body to see the same ice pack that he had brought earlier. The water had escaped the plastic and made a rather large wet spot on near his groin on the blanket. Spike the pup redirected his attention to a nearby window. The day had already been eaten away by the darkness of the night, and the sound of crickets chirped away in the moonlight.

The pup looked back down to the boy under his paws, ‘you are probably not going home till morning, buddy. Right now is probably a good time to get comfortable with master and wait it out until sunrise.’

Still no response from the bandaged teen.

Spike the pup facepawed, ‘Again, right you still can’t understand what I’m saying.’

The pup suddenly felt the teens head shifted along with a moan of pain, probably due to the sudden change in weight from one of his paws. The pup quickly knew that he was pressing too hard on the teen’s still-sensitive head, and took his paw off his skull.

‘Oh, biscuits, your head is still mush!’

The pup jolted himself back to the middle of the two with both paws in the air as the boy continued to shift around in his sheets. A few moments later, the teen took a couple breaths and his body calmed, to the dog’s relief.

Spike the pup wiped his paw on his forehead, ‘That was a close one.’

After a breath of relief, the small canine glanced between the two, noticing the rather large gap.

‘This is not how mates are supposed to be. They need to closer together,’ the pup groaned. ‘Well...at least, that’s what I heard from the other dogs.’

‘They need to cuddle….’ a voice called out from a distance.

Spike the pup’s ears perked up at the sudden sound. He looked around the room, seeing no other person or dog in sight. The only other human that would be in the house would be his master’s caretakers, but they were away this weekend. The canine scratched his scalp, confused as to who and where the voice came from.

‘I’m at the window, pup,’ the voice called again. The pup jerked his head to a nearby window, however, no one was present. ‘The other window.’

The pup turned his attention at another empty window. An inpatient knock against glass turned his attention to yet another window, this time with someone actually there.

‘Oh, it’s you,’ Spike barked anxiously. Now in his line of sight, he stared at the white-furred feline perched on the window sill. ‘W-w-what are you doing here?’

‘Please, it’s not like I wanted to be here,’ she mowed, rolling her eyes. ‘I just wanted to see what was going on. Your “master” brought home that guy,’ she gestured to the bandaged boy. ‘I just wanted to see what was going on. I was…. curious that's all.’

‘Yeah, right, that’s what they all say,’ the pup barked softly. ‘Ever since I moved here weeks ago, which is a long time in dog years, mind you, you’ve been constantly hovering over me! What’s your deal cat!? Can’t you leave a dog at peace?’

Said cat rolled her eyes again, ‘I have a name, you know.’ she purred. Though in translation, the pup took it more as a threat.

The small canine gulped, ‘R-r-right, Madam Opalescence.’

‘It’s just Opal, I told you that already, Spike’ She mowed, irritated. ‘And I already told you that I wasn’t going to hurt you.’

‘You chased me earlier today!’

‘No, I did not. I was laying on top of the roof when I saw you peeing on a tree, so I decided to say hi.’

‘You snuck up on me, and you were going to attack me!’

Once again, Opal rolled her eyes, ‘I just tapped your shoulder. Before I could say anything else, you ran off peeing the rest of the way might I add.’

‘That’s because you scared that pee out of me. I ran for blocks after that.’

Opal facepawed, ‘Look pup, listen for a minute. There’s a friend that wanted me to talk to you so that you can go talk to her.’

‘There is no way that I’m falling for that,’ Spike pointed his paw at the white-furred cat. ‘You are just going to lead me somewhere and get mobbed by some other cats!’

‘What crazy accusations are you implying?’ Opla snarled. ‘What kind of crazy stuff have you been listening to?’

‘A friend of mine told me everything I needed to know about cats. You all are scary and will attack every dog in sight no matter what size they are.’

‘Where did you... whatever,’ Opla replied. ‘just listen to what I have to say here. That human… wait, why does he have bandages in his head?’ Opla gestured to the bandaged boy.

Spike turned his head to the teen, then back to Opla, ‘Master said that he was having a rough day.’

The feline glanced at the bandaged boy, the girl next to him, then back at the pup.

‘Right…’ She replied, leaving that part of the conversation alone. ‘Anyways, I have to go. I have some important things to do this evening.’

Opla stands up on the windowsill and turns away from the window, but before she left she turned her head back to the dog.

‘Are you sure you don’t want to talk to her? She really is a nice dog that wants to see you.’

Spike rolled his eyes, ‘As I told you before. I am not going to follow you where I can get ambushed by any of your cat friends. And even if she is a “dog” why doesn’t she come here? Until I see this “dog friend” of yours’, the pup quotes with his paws, ‘I’m not leaving the yard or this house  until I have proof.’

Opal rolled her eye and sighed, ‘Alright, I’ll tell her... again.’ She leapt off the ledge and disappeared out of sight, much to the pup’s relief.

Spike let out a long sigh as he fell flat on the floor. ‘That was so scary,’ he barked under his breath. ‘I thought I was going to pee myself...again.’

The small pup thought back to the other times he had peed before because of that cat, or cats in general. He shook his head, wiping that particular memory from his mind. After a deep breath, he stood back on all fours and made his way back to the base of the couch. He glanced back and forth at the two teen all the while rubbing his chin with a paw.

‘Hmmm,’ he pondered. ‘maybe that cat was on to something.’ He continued to glance at the two for a few moments before a thought came to mind.

‘Wait a minute…. How do humans cuddle?’

The pup scratched the back of his head as he glanced towards the floor. Sure, he had heard how others cuddled before, but they weren't humans. Though there was that one time with some squirrels, but they were rather aggressive about it for some reason.

‘Boy, I wish I had some kind of reference of some kind,’ Spike sighed under his breath. Just as he barked that sentence, the word “reference” sparked in his head. He got onto all fours and made his way to the doorway leading to his master’s room. Thankfully, the door was already cracked open, so all he had to do was press the door forward to enter. It may have been somewhat dark in the room, but luckily the digital clock on the nightstand lit the room. Immediately after entering the room, he made his way to a nearby dresser at the corner of the room, eyeing a particular drawer at the bottom of it.

Fortunately, the design of the knob of the dresser allowed him to grip it in his teeth. Though gripping it was one thing, but that didn’t make the drawer any lighter than it was. The pup took hold of the handle, pulling on it with all the strength that his little body could provide.

One tug after another, he moved the wooden drawer inch by inch, thought it was truthfully closer to half an inch by half an inch.
After a small while of tugging and breaks for taking a breath, he managed to pull the box almost to the edge. It barely hung on its internal rollers, not quite far enough to fall. The pup lets go of the knob, taking in as much air as his little lungs could hold, then gripped the knob and tugged it with full force. The drawer lets out a loud pop and metal snapped as it fell off its railing, falling flat on the floor. Spike barked, proud of his success as he eyed the contents of the drawer.

All that he could comprehend based on what he could see was an assortment of cloth. Being a dog himself, the cloth was a large array of different hues of black and white, along with different patterns. Though some of them looked like they had frills on the edges of them.

‘Nope.’ the pup barked. He walked over the box and its cloth and made his way to the opened dresser, climbing right into it. The light in the room was somewhat dim, but the inside of the dresser was much darker, making it harder for him to see.

He felt around the bottom of the floor with his paws from one corner to the next. When his right paw was at the far right, he felt something brush against his pads. He focused his attention more on the area with both paws, feeling around on what he could be recognized as an assortment of books of some kind. He took one of them into his muzzle and hopped out of the dark enclosure, landing first on the cloth, then out onto the floor. He made his way to the desk next to the dresser. He propped himself on the chair and laid the book on the wooden surface.

He attempted to glance at the cover of the book he just retrieved, but unfortunately, the little light provided by the digital clock didn’t help too much. The pup looked around the desk, hoping for something that would help him see the book better. To the right of the desk, he eyed a lamp with a push button on its base near him. He pressed the button, activating the light on top of the lamp. The light somewhat blinded Spike for a moment. After a few seconds and rubbing his eyelids, his pupils adjusted to the radiating light, and he was able to see the book perfectly.

Reading the book, however, wasn’t something that he could do, nor could he see the color of the cover. To him, in black and white, the cover of the book showed two individuals, one female, and one male. He inspected the cover of the two, seeing that the two of them were rather close together, really close. 

‘This will work perfectly,’ the pup barked with glee.

The canine opened the book, studying the fist page of the book. Luckily for him, this particular book wasn’t mainly comprised of words, rather it had mostly pictures. He flipped each page as he glanced at each of them carefully for anything that he could use to figure out how exactly humans “Cuddled”.

Not twenty pages into the book, Spike found the same individual that were on the cover. He cocked his head as he looked closer at the two; somehow they seemed closer, a little too close. However, the pup was determined to do everything that could help his master. He flipped to the next page, studying the reference as he traced his paw past each set of pictures. Towards the end sets of the two pages, one particular strip caught his eye.

‘That might work.’

(7 AM Saturday)

There are days in a boy's life that made getting up early in the morning a great thing to take into consideration. Waking up to get a head start on the day to do something productive, or to hang out with friends and have fun was a significant factor to consider. However, this wasn’t a day where waking up early would benefit a particular green-haired teen.

“Errrrr…” the teen moaned.

Or any time before noon for that matter.

“Why does my head hurt?” Spike asked. However, the pain in his head wasn’t as bad as he made it sound, it was more like  light pressure compared to the rest of his body. He shifted around in his mid-slumber, though not very much in an attempt to relieve the tension and fall back to sleep. Nevertheless, joint after joint, they popped all over his scrawny body, bones crackled against each other in his jaw, neck, chest, and all the way to his toes. He hissed one pop after another, each gas burst, having different jolts of pain signals sent into his nervous system. Some were more painful than usual, while others were more like that of a knuckle pop, though they weren’t in his hands. It wasn’t too painful, but it sure wasn’t the most comforting for his body. Definitely not something that he wanted to wake up to, either.

He twisted his head side to side, relieving the stress built up in his joints.

*crack* “Ow…” *crack* “Owww,” He breathed through his teeth before letting his entire body fall motionless. Even then he could still feel the raging sores of his body, especially on both his cheeks and for some odd reason his groin.

His body had never been this sore since the time when he was forced to help out with Rainbow Dash and Applejack had their contest that one time. He wasn’t hurt too badly after that, but it still bothered him that they used him, a boy that wasn’t built for intensive force, instead of something more suitable like farm animals for the “Athletic” activities. Not to mention, more sturdy. He couldn’t begin to count how many times he begged them to go easier on him with the ropes and pinning him down. Furthermore, almost the same groin pain was present as when he was “bucked” off their backs, if not more so, he wasn’t quite sure at the moment. Again he had the same burning question as to whose cockamamie main idea was that in the first place.

Spike brought both hands to the throbbing area, “Ahhh… My eggs,” he moaned in a high pitched tone. Yep, this was definitely second to the “Buck” groin pain. Nothing is going to beat what those two did to his groin.

Despite the desire for ice for his “eggs”, the soreness pulsating through his body kept him at bay. He let out a long, rusty, cracked sigh as he shifted his body to the right of him. His face, in the midst of going flat on the soft surface he laid on, instead had his right cheek landed on something much softer.

Despite the fact that his head was still mush, this softness felt rather nice against his cheek. Definitely much softer than any pillow that he had rested his head on before. He hummed softly to himself as he scooted closer to this new pillow of his. Wondering to himself where on Earth mom found such a cloud-like pillow, and when she put it in his room while he was sleeping without him noticing.

That didn’t matter to him at the moment, he could ask later. Well, that’s if he was able to part from such a pillow.

The softness of the pillow wasn’t its only appealing attribute, not by a longshot. Normally the teen preferred his pillows to be cold as opposed to the warm one pressed on his cheek. However, the warmth of this one was on a totally different level. To say that it was satisfying against his flesh couldn't begin to describe the well-balanced softness and warmth it had.

The urge in him had built up enough for him to overlook the surging pain and laid his palm flat on the soft surfs. He caressed the softness within his grasp, but he didn’t grip too hard. Instead, he gripped the softness of the pillow gently, letting it mold back into shape as he loosened his fingers and slowly gripped again.

“Hmmmmmmmm” a fused moan seeped into his ear drums. Immediately, his hand paused, still in the midst of a lost grip on the pillow.

‘What was that?’ the teen thought. Hesitant, he decided to further tighten his grip on the ‘pillow’.

“Hmmmmmmmmmmm,” the same moan echoed in his ear again. His heart skipped a few beats, and then the circulation of the blood to his brain increased dramatically. Though it didn’t take much for him to realize that maybe, just maybe, whatever was in his hand and against his face wasn’t a pillow.

The boy gulped, letting his grip loosen once more... and squeezed.

“Stop that…” the voice whispered out.

The tension in his chest, as well as the beating of his heart. Added more into his anxiety, he felt something wrap around his waist and downward along his lower back. Still reluctant to open his eyes, he attempted to wiggle his way out. 

However, by the playful contempt that life had for him, the muscled mass wrapped tighter around his body. He tried to wiggle harder out of the grip, but the mass locked on him tighter. Whatever was on him didn’t seem like it was going to let him go anytime soon.

It was then in the midst of his climbing concern that there was a rather steady rhythm beating under his palm. He froze in place, leading all his energy to his thought processes, though it didn’t take much to shout in his mind that he should probably move his hand immediately.

He slowly released the pillow, though now he knew that it definitely wasn’t a pillow. Again, life still had its crude humor against him, as another hand quickly gripped his wrist before he could depart. Spike let out a quiet, high-pitched whimper as he tried to break off the grip with fruitless results. Though not painful, the hand gripped harder on his wrist as he desperately tried to part.

As much as he would’ve liked to use his other hand to free himself, the entire arm itself was pinned down by the mass which held his body in such a tight locking position, leaving him totally immobilized.

“What the hell!” the voice whispered again, sending chills up the young teen’s spine.

He gulped again, slowly cracking his left eye open much to his mind’s displeasure. While his vision was hazy, he could make out an outline of someone else close to his side. A moment later his eye dilated past the morning dose and gazed straight into a pair of golden ones. He opened the other eye, meeting both the other eyes and more importantly, the person that had them.

“G-G-Gilda?” He quivered under his breath.

He stared at the girl next to him, as did she. Her white hair with its purple highlights at its ends scatter all over her face, covering the position of her face and eyes. Though it wasn’t hard for him to see the confusion that plastered her face. He traced his vision downwards to his wrist eyeing her firm grip on it. Coherently, what it was that he had in his hands.

His mind was right about it not being a pillow, per say, that he had in his grip, still in somewhat pressed against his palm. Now, however, he wished that he listened to the protest in his brain to open his eyes. Lower down his abdomen he glanced at the muscular mass that pinned him and his arm. The word muscular turned out to be the right description for the mass., said mass belonging to the girl right beside him. The leg to be precise.

He blinked, gathering his thoughts in his mind.

His body felt sore in several areas that he hadn’t felt sore since the whole contest with Applejack and Rainbow, which also included his groin. His hand was currently holding good reason for a death sentence. Her leg was wrapped around his waist in a tight grip that prevented him from escaping. 

And his hand was still firmly pressed against the cloth of her shirt, along with the flesh mounds that laid underneath the shirt.

The smaller teen raised his head back to Gilda’s eyes hoping for some kind of reasonable explanation. However, she shared the same bewildered expression plastered on her face as he did. He didn’t have to be an expert to know what was going to happen next. He may not know how exactly he got there, but his current position told him everything that’s to follow. 

He was fondling a girl’s breast and was caught red-handed, and to top it off, the hand in question was well bound in her grasp. Not mention that he was in the perfect position for instantaneous punishment. 

Spike opened his quivering mouth, wanting to explain his position somehow. As to the explanation, there was none to be processed in his mind to translate into words. Instead, he released a long, awkward creak out of his gaping mouth.

“Uhhhhhhh….” he breathed out.

The tension built up higher and higher in the room. He stared upwards at Gilda, and she stared back at him.

She glanced at him, one side of his body to the other, tracing as to why the heck he was in her grasp. Becoming well aware that she had basically had him under half of her body, that being her leg was currently pinning him down, eyeing too that his arm was well-locked in her grip.

In relation to that, she traced her attention to his other arm down from his shoulder to his wrist. Now that that had been made apparent, she took notice of the slight tension of his arm tugging in her hand.

She traced further up his arm in her grip. Though it wasn’t his wrist that was the only thing in some form of a grip. Clear in her vision, she spotted his right palm pressed against her breast

“Uhhhhhh…” Gilda too replied. The athlete glanced at the boy’s face and back to his hand, presumed held against his will, then back to his face.

The two opened their mouths to attempt to say something that would explain anything to their current predicament. Each time they opened their mouths, the other would close theirs, an awkward creak passing through their throats, then closing it to let the other speak, cycling back to closing their own.

Eventually, Spike decided to close his mouth altogether.

“Morning,” Gilda said, breaking the cycle.

“Morning,” Spike replied.

The two teens stared at each other in the awkward silence.The tension of the silence was eating them from the inside far too much to continue further into the conversation, much so from moving, especially with how strange their current position was.

On Spike’s side of the situation much it could possibly hurt him in the long run. He took a few moments to compile the best choice of words that may or may not result in an instant beating.

“Ummm... can I have my hand back?”

> How to explain
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

How would one describe a hangover? Rusted, worn down, irregular gears creaking at each turn, breaking a tooth every now and then. The brain whining like a dying motor under a heavy load, lowering the stress, then suddenly increasing from slight to dramatic. The pumping of hot, thick, pasty goo flowing in the veins in place of the blood in his brain. Neural sparks in line, in a painful domino effect, systematically taken down like some kind of cellular genocide.

 
If that was the case, then the list of reasons not to drink ever just had another addition, for a certain young teen.

 
“So... how long was I out again?” the disoriented teen asked. He rubbed the sides of his head with his right hand, mostly in the areas of where the bandage wraps covered and held a glass of water in the other.
 

Across the room, a taller teen, her back turned to the smaller teen, glanced back as she was searching through a set of cabinets. She bit her lower lip, perpetuating her through thoughts.
 

“I would say… at least fourteen-ish hours, I think,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders as her eyes awkwardly rolled back to her search cabinets. “You were... really out of it for a while.”
 

The boy blinked, staring back at her, much to other teen’s uneasiness. He opened his mouth once again, then closed it, stared at the table in front of him, back to the other teen, then at something else in the room, a toaster in this case.

 
“Right,” the boy said. His vision remained fixed on the red metal toaster while he shifted from side to side in his seat. “So… this is where you live?”
 

The athlete turned her eyes, but not her head, to his direction, then back into the cabinets. She shifted her shoulders, brushing off the building tension, then replied.
 

“Yeah, I’ve been living here for the last few weeks or so. Finally got the last box unpacked just yester-” she trailed off at the mention of the day before. She paused for a moment, her hand hovering over some salt container, grasped in her free hand, then continued her search in the cabinet.

 
The boy glanced back at her for a moment, then to another object in the room, that object being the stove that was right next to the girl. He inched his vision towards her, attempting to speak with her in his direct vicinity, then turned his attention back to the stove.

 
“That’s nice,” he said. The boy swung his dangling legs around in his chair. While he was rather short for his age. The chair itself was a rather tall one, giving him at least a foot and a half of free space between his feet and the floor. While it was a bit of a mockery of his height to some degree, the table made him feel even smaller than he really was, or perhaps this just placed him at the proper level that he currently felt. In other words, he felt like a small hatching that found its way into a much larger creature's den.
 

Or at least, that’s what it ‘felt’ like upon waking up... among other things.

 
The green-haired teen glanced at the right palm next to his head. His hand; his palm, fingers, his grabbers, squeezers…
 

Spike shook his head, wiping the words from his mind. However, no matter how much he tried to brush it off, the memory was burned in his brain. Those round, soft, firm…

 
He instantly slapped himself, attempting to whack the memory out... on the side of his bandaged head. In place of the ‘softness’ came feelings of instantaneous regret Although the hit wasn’t too hard, the buzzing in his head made it proportional the magnitude of two hammers lightly bashing his head. Painful wasn't really the word to use in his opinion, it was leaning more to a large bloating in the side of his head. As if the bloody paste had gotten thicker.
 

The teen groaned, closing his eyes, leaning far back into the seat as the bloating circulated to the entirety of the right side of his head.

 
‘Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea-’ he thought as he inhaled a large sum of air into his lungs. He held in the air, waiting for the pain to pass, then exhaled. Once his lungs had pushed out the air from his body, he felt a sudden rush of soothing coolness cascading on his forehead, neutralizing the bloating.
 

Upon contact, he let out a long sigh of relief as the icy goodness rushed to the rest of his head, then opened his eyes to the white-haired teen next to him holding an icepack to his head. He took notice at her free hand held in front of him, eyeing two swallowable tablets, then back to Gilda.
 

“They’re painkillers for your head and….everything else,” she said awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. “It’s to, you know, help with the pain.” The boy glanced at the tablets in her hand and back to her.
 

“Ummm… thanks,” Spike replied. He took the pills from her palm into his mouth. A glass of water in hand, he gulped reasonable amounts of mouthfuls, washing the pills down his throat. After releasing a pleasured sigh from the water cooling down his insides, he took the ice pack from her hand and sat upright.
 

Gilda retracted her hand as his hand caressed the pack and took her place across the table. She faced another direction other than directly from Spike, still avoiding eye contact. Her selected object, the toaster that Spike was eyeing earlier.
 

The two sat quietly across from each other in the room, changing glances towards different objects in the room. One would occasionally glance at the other when they were facing somewhere else. Spike would stare at a cup on a nearby counter, while Gilda changed her sight to him, twitching her mouth as she did so. A moment later, the green-haired teen leaned his head towards the girl, while she immediately craned her head away towards a stove. Spike opened his mouth to speak, a low creak of sound escaping his mouth. As small as it may have been, it was loud enough for the girl across the table to hear. She glanced back to the boy, which caused him to awkwardly turn away.
 

A brief moment of silence passed, a few seconds, then onto a few minutes of the rather comforting atmosphere. The two, as much as they wanted to end the silence, continued to stare around the kitchen, randomly selecting items in the room. Unfortunately, the room was quickly running out of items to pretend to have their full attention on.
 

After cycling back to a salt shaker for the third time, Gilda raised her hand, coughed in it, gaining the boy’s attention and said, “So…” She pondered. Trying to comprise a conversion that would break through the thick atmosphere. “How’s your head?”
 

The boy glanced at the girl, looking at her in the eyes for a moment before switching back to a plate in a drawer in a nearby sink. He cracked his jaw, “Well, it’s okay I guess.” He rubbed the side the of his head, brushing his fingers across the fibers of the bands. “Ummm… what exactly happened, anyway?” Gilda tensed up before Spike continued. “The last thing I remember was the burger place... and uhhhh...”
 

“Garble,” Gilda filled in. She set both hands on the table, caressing both in her fingers. “He kind of... punched you, in your left eye.”
 

The boy turns his head back to the girl, a questioning brow raised, “What, really?”
 

He raised his hand from his glass to his eye, feeling the tender, thin skin of his eyelid and its sore flesh. He retracted the hand, nerves sending a painful signal at the moment of contact, clutching the glass once more.
 

He let out a brief hiss as the memory made its way back in circulation, “Oh, right-right I remember now.” He shifted in his seat again, relieving pressure in a certain ‘extremity’ of his lower body. “He dunked a drink of some kind on me. Then you, uhh… slugged him in the gut and he was tossed out.”

 
“Right.” Gilda nervously glanced at her hands, up to Spike, then back down. “Someone stepped in to help before he lunged at you.”
 

“Huu?” Spike asked. He squinted his eyes, gears turning in his head to connect the broken paths in his scrambled, dazed mind, recounting more of his memories.
 

A moment later, and an internal ‘ding’ sounded within his head.
 

“Ohhhhhhh,” he said sitting upright in his chair. “S-s-snowflake came in just as we stepped away. Garble was about to go on a rampage, but Snow grabbed him and threw him out.”

 
The athlete shifted in her seat and glanced at him.
 

“Right, he did come at the right time for ya.” She bit her bottom lips for a few seconds, then continued. “Then we sat, ate our food and talked for a bit.”
 

“Okay, now I remember that part… well, the eating part,” Spike said. He brought up his hand, scratching the top of his head that was free from the bondage, still tender. “What did we talk about?”
 
“Ehhh... just some stuff, nothing really too important to discuss ever again!” she replied quickly. Though the topic that they had was rather humorous at the time, having his full attention just to mention it again and pick on him... it didn’t seem like something she should bring up at the moment.

 
“Just stuff.”
 

“Oh, alright,” Spike glanced down to his glass. He circulated through more of his thoughts, patching them together trying to make sense of the blurry ones and come up with something more comprehensive.

 
His thoughts were then brought to the rising question as to the bandage that was wrapped around his head, he traced the fibers of the cloth around back and forth. Building more onto what exactly he did to get those bandages.

 
“I’m sorry,” Gilda said, breaking Spike in mid-thought.
 

The teen turns his head to her, a rather large confused expression plastered to his face.

 
“What?”

 
“I’m sorry,” she said again, the athlete bowing her head as she gestured to the bandages. “It’s my fault you got your head smashed.”
 

The green haired teen blinked, “Ehh?”

 
Gilda shifted in her chair again, one leg over the other, then inhaled and exhaled deeply. She lifted her chin, facing him with her guilt-ridden eyes.

 
“After we ate,” she began. “We went to an old juggling trail and did some K’s to burn some calories.” Spike nodded. “The heat was getting to you, and you kind of passed out due to heat exhaustion... and physical exhaustion, but it was mostly the heat that got to you.”

 
The green haired teen stared at her for a moment, not a hateful glare, but a cautious one before speaking.

 
“Okay, what happened after that?” he asked.
 

“Well…” Gilda said. She twiddled her fingers, glancing away, then looking back at Spike. “I was trying to wake you up, but you were really out. I mean down for the count, complete washed out. I swear, if we squeezed your clothes dry, the sweat could fill that cup right there probably more than halfway,” she gestured to the glass in his hands.
 

They stared at his glass for a moment in front of him, taking its large size into consideration.
 

“Right,” he said glancing back to Gilda. “So, I fell on a rock or something?”
 

“Errrrrr… Not exactly,” she creaked in her throat. The teen switched the orientation of her legs, as well her grip. “Well, you see, you did pass out flat on your face, but that wasn’t the thing that caused your head trauma. You see, when I was trying to ‘wake you up’,” she mentally quoted. As much as she wanted to explain the details to him, the total breakdown would have to wait for another day, or at least one where she can properly tell the whole sitting on him, slapping his rag doll face, and feeling his arms muscles without making things weirder than it already was. Well, actually if it came down to it the feeling his forearm part would probably be kept in the dark, forever! “Your head kind of, maybe, probably, likely, definitely bashed against a rock, pushing you further into unconsciousness.”
 

Spike blinked, gathering his thoughts. He grabbed the glass and swallowed the rest of the icy water, the cool liquid leaking into his throat, leaving behind a pleasant sensation. He set the empty glass on the table with a gentle thunk.
 

He looked up to the nervous athlete, then back to the glass, “Well... ow, I guess.”
 

“‘Ow’?” Gilda asked, gaining the boy’s attention. “Didn’t you just hear what I just said?”
 

Spike gave a bland blink, “You smashed my skull with a rock.”
 

“Okay, that’s a little bit far from the truth,” Gilda said. “Though partially true,” she sent her guilty stare to the side, then back to the boy. “I basically had the back of your head smashed against a rock, I thought I heard a crack! Thank goodness the rock was just a piece of petrified wood on the ground, which was still pretty solid. Then when I was carrying your sweaty body to my car, I dr...” She paused mid-sentence.
 

Spike raised a brow, “You...?” Though his voice hadn’t raised at all, being as calm and most content the green-haired teen could have been in the morning, the situational atmosphere made it so that the guilt was flowing through the athlete, forcing its way into the pit of her stomach. A deep, shallow, sinking feeling that grew the more that she talked about it. She already began, there was no use denying it any longer.
 

“To the car I-I,” Gilda bit her lower lips, it had to be said. “Dropped you, face first on the pavement of the parking lot.” She glanced down to her hands, it was finally said and done. She may have told him the truth, but that didn’t change anything about the deep sinking pit of guilt that dwelled in her.
 

She wouldn’t blame Spike if he pressed charges against her, given what she did to him, accidental or not. She still hurt him nevertheless, more than Garble ever did at the burger joint. Although there was no telling what he was going to do if that Snowflake guy didn’t step in to help...
 

Still, she was the one that caused most of his injuries, and whatever anger he had against her was rightfully justified. She was prepared for whatever punishment he had for her.
 

Gilda inhaled and exhaled, stretching her back and staring back at the boy’s eyes, “I know that you are mad at me right now, I understand. You’re probably already thinking about pressing-”

 
“I’m not going to be pressing charges,” Spike cut her off mid-sentence. Gilda jolted her eyes from her hands to Spike.
 

“What?” the athlete choked out, a bewildered expression plastered on her face almost unbelieving. “W-wait, wait.” she raised both hands, pushing the air in front of her. “You heard what I just said, right?”
 

Spike inhaled, calm and collected as he raised his hand, raising each finger as he listed, “Ummm… I passed out from heat exhaustion, then you were trying to wake me up. In doing so, you slammed my skull on a rock on the ground, furthering my injuries. And finally, when you were carrying my body to your car, you dropped my head onto the pavement.” The boy looked off to the side as he scratched the back of his head, mostly digging his nails against the cloth before continuing, “Yeah, that’s about it.”

 
Gilda remained silent, mouth agape in pure disbelief. She scanned the boy’s face for some kind of relevant explanation or any possible signs of brain damage. Friend or not, he had to have some residing anger, or at least a grudge, for that matter. She held out her index finger in front of Spike’s face.
 

“Bare with me for a moment and follow my finger,” she said as her finger-waved side to side.
 

“Ummm... okay?” Spike replied, following said finger without protest. Her hand moved smoothly to the left and paused, 
both of his eyes followed. The hand itself shifted to the left and paused, his eyes followed. Her hand started to move left and right ever so slowly, Spike followed without fail. The hand sped up some more, but the boy’s eyes kept it within visual range. Deciding to kick it up a notch, the teen paused her hand at random; switching direction, continuing in the same direction, moving her hand closer to the boy’s face, causing him to go cross-eyed for a moment, then back. As if in perfect sync, his eyes never failed for a moment to keep up.
 

Gilda retracted her hand, continuing to stare at the boy, just as her growing concern for his well being and mental state never faltered, “I’ll be right back.” With that, she quickly got out of her seat and marched out of the room, but halfway out of the walkway, she arched her head back around and pointed her index finger at the boy, “Don’t go anywhere!” she said, then disappeared from view.
 

Somewhat confused, and somewhat concerned for her, Spike stared at the empty walkway, “Okay!” he called out. Again he stared around the room, looking at the different items he was glancing at earlier, the ones that he had already gotten a full view and was well-versed about. He breathed in deeply and relaxed his body, wishing that those painkillers would kick in sometime soon, especially for the ‘tender’ parts of his body.
 

He shifted in his seat, leaning said tender parts to a less disturbing, tight fit in the shorts that barely covered his legs from the knees down. His attention was moving to the water droplets drizzling down his arm; he eyed the ice pack in his grasp and down to his groin. Without another thought, he spread his legs just far enough, not causing any more unwanted tension, and brought down the cold pack between them. Tapping the middle of his tender area, he pressed the pack slowly against his jewels, a few heavy breaths pushing past his lips upon contact in his thin shorts. The sudden chills that ran up his spine soon passed as the tender feeling faded, closing his eyes as he arched back against his seat, a wave of relief rushing over his lower body. He pressed the bag closer to him, caressing the small bulge with the plastic bag numbing the area, to his relief.

 
“Ehhh, I’ve had worse,” the boy muttered, apathetic. Massaging the ice pack around, he allowed the ice to numb more areas easing more of the pain away, plus making it much easier for him to sit comfortably. It didn’t help at all that he was wearing such tight-fitting underwear, to begin with, whatever caused such pain had left its mark, more or less.
 

‘Wait a minute…’ the boy pondered.
 

Tight-fitting underwear? He could have sworn that he had slipped on a pair of boxers that morning, the ones with the little purple dragons printed on them... Not that anyone else would know what pair he has on.
 

The young teen looked down at his shorts with a somewhat concerned expression painted on his face. He thought that the boxers were probably just giving him a wedgy, which would logically explain the tightness. All the same, he moved the ice pack aside, and with the other hand, he reluctantly grasped the elastic of the shorts and slowly stretched it forwards. To his half-hearted surprised, the print on the cloth were the all-too-familiar purple dragons. They were just tucked tightly underneath him.
 

He let out a brief ‘hmm’ in response. Raising his butt a little, he leaned forward on the side of the chair and tugged on the top straps of the boxers, loosening the tight grip on his groin. With the newly found freedom, he let out a sigh of relief and released both straps. After the satisfying ‘smack’ of the elastic against his skin, the ice pack was set back into place.
 

“That's much better,” the teen grinned. Now with the loosened underwear and the numbing coolness of the ice pack, sitting was made much easier. Knowing what happened last time wasn’t as forgiving as this one. Speaking of which, that did bring up the thought of why he was so sore down there.
 

He shrugged his shoulders, pressing the ice pack on a different side of his groin. He could ask Gilda when she got back from whatever it was she was doing. In the meantime, he sat there and relaxed as the ice pack sat firmly against his shorts...
 

“... Wait a minute.”
 

(Inside Gilda’s room)
 

“Crap! Crap! Crap! The dweeb has brain damage!” Gilda stammered as she goes through the drawers of her nightstand. Her hand fumbled around the drawers, tossing forgotten pencils, pen, and paper some of which fell on the floor. “Dammit, it’s not in here!”
 

She turned around her room, scanning everywhere for what it was that she was looking for. Her eyes passed the desk, stacks of unfinished homework, a pencil cup, a random assortment of workout equipment on the side of her room, the bottom drawer of her dresser laid on her floor.
 

Wait, her bottom drawer of her dresser was laid out on the floor.
 

The athlete turned her head back to the wooden box filled with her underwear. Her eyes widened, lunging towards the open box, taking it in hand and moving it to the side. On her knees, she looked in the opening, checked its contents for any changes and sighed.
 

They were all still there.
 

“I must not have put it back in yesterday,” Gilda said aloud to herself. She picked up the wooden drawer and set it back on its rollers, pushing it closed.
 

It was a guilty hobby of hers, one that she would never share with anyone else no matter how close they were to her. Especially since how some of them were quiet on the questionable side of their preferences, the white-haired teen even, quite often, questioned the age rating, writer, and illustrator of these books, but she still kept them anyways. These ‘books’ were something that she picked up not even a year ago, but their grip on her was well inbound.
 

Standing back up, the white-haired teen clapped both her hands together “Now then, back to business,” she said, returning to the task at hand. Turning around, she scanned the room again, eying everything that she had. An assortment of laundry, one Gilda didn’t know if it was to be sent to the wash or if it just came from it, laid randomly across the room. More stacks of unfinished homework, extra workout equipment on the opposite side of her room, with the addition of another stack of partially-finished homework. A few weeks in and the school district was already merciless distributing its workload.
 

It had to be somewhere in the span of junk in her room, probably buried under it all. The white-haired teen made a mental note that her next priority, after taking care of the ordeal sitting in her kitchen and the most definitely worried family to follow, would be to figure out how to organize her room and her studies. And maybe find a tutor that wasn’t scared out the wazoo just making eye contact with her.
 

“Junk…” the teen breathed, she lowered her arms to her waist and set them on the elastic of her shorts. The word echoed a bit in her head as if struggling to remind her of something. She slurred the word around for a bit, and then it clicked.
 

The teen turned back to the dresser, eyeing the top drawer in particular. Without a second thought, she grabbed the handle in one quick motion, the contents of said drawer sliding back to the rear before rushing forward once it came to a sudden halt.
 

Inside contained the following; more pencils, pens, markers, sports tape, regular tape, a vast assortment of plastic pieces along with the metal of older workout equipment (what was left of it, anyway), and crumpled pieces of paper scattered in the box.
 

With her free hand, she dug deeper into the drawer, tossing around its contents side to side as she eyed everything inside of it. At least she could say that she wouldn’t have to worry about running out of pencils and pens for a while.
 

Her hand brushed past what seemed to be a smooth cylinder. She couldn’t see it all too well due to the variety of random assortment of junk. Reeling back to that spot, she focused on taking off the layers and tossed them to the side. Under the cluster revealed a long silver cylinder with a larger round bevel at its end.
 

She took the silver cylinder in hand “Got it!” The white haired teen caressed the object in her hand as she traced along the sides with her thumb, sliding to a black rubber button near the bevel. Pressing the button down, she heard a loud ‘click’ followed by light shining out of the top of the bevel.
 

The teen smiled, “Perfect, the batteries in this thing still have energy!” She flicked the flashlight off, closing the drawer before she turned and walked out of the room. She wasted no time marching her way back to the kitchen where her green-haired, possibly very-disoriented/brain-damaged friend was waiting.
 

This wasn’t what she wanted to happen when she first brought a boy home with her. Well, on the bright side her family wasn’t there to witness this matrimony of at first glance of abuse. If her mom or dad saw the smaller teen at his current state more than one question well rise from both parties. Most likely to side what she did to him followed by not one, but two hell of a lecture.
 

“Family…..” the teen muttered as she came to a sudden halt a meter or so from the walkway of the kitchen. Just earlier she was thinking how worried the green haired teen's family would be due to his absence of the day and night prior. Sure maybe explaining the absent part would have been easier to wiggle though why the twerp wasn’t home. A Little bit more challenging with the part that he stayed with her throughout the night. Certain details could be avoided in the explanation, especially as to what happened not an hour ago goes without saying. However, physical attributes are much….different from leaving out verbal detail within a conversation.

 
The injuries that are clearly visible on the body would definitely be a conversation starter, not to mention the way he walks as of this morning. That on its own has its set of question that has no way of a good explanation for a mother nor a pleasant outcome.

 
“Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii……..”