Cold Shoulder
ANY WAY YOU WANT IT
Being poor sucked. A lot.
When Tinker, well, he’d been called Stuffed Shirt back then, six weeks and a lifetime ago, when he’d been rich... but he wasn’t anymore. Stirring the cheap lentils bubbling away in the pot beneath him only reinforced that fact. His stomach growled, but skipping lunch was a small price to pay for freedom from the tyrannical parents who felt otherwise. There wasn’t any doubt about that, whatever the little seed burrowing into his mind wanted to suggest. There was a good reason he had run away. Even if it meant being alone in a new city.
“Hi, Tinker! I’m home!”
Well, not completely alone. “Hey Emma,” he called back. The mare in question appeared in the narrow passageway between the kitchen and the one other room they called a living room-slash-bedroom-slash-everything else. “Oh, you’ve already got dinner going? Well aren’t you just the best?”
“Heh, you’ll change your tune when you try it,” he said, wiping a grey foreleg on a nearby dishtowel. It was a little ritual that was quickly becoming familiar to both of them. Emma had found a job in some of the nearby mines almost shockingly quickly, leaving the lion’s share of the domestic cooking and cleaning to him. It boggled his mind realizing just how incredibly unprepared and incompetent a life of luxury had left him. For whatever reason, though, Emma was just as hopeless. Still, they muddled along as best they could manage. “How was work?”
“Well, everypony seems to have decided the hazing period is over, so that’s a plus,” she said. A wet strand of her light blue mane stuck to her cheek. “I think I’m getting the hang of it. I’m a quick study.”
“Well, it seems to suit you.” Tinker looked her over. The thin and wispy frame of the mare he’d met on the train ride out had grown an awful lot thicker and more solid from all the days of intense physical labor. Whenever she strained to lift something heavy, like the couch with the mysterious stain on the underside of it that they’d salvaged from a curbside, thick cords of muscle rippled and shifted under her skin. Three days before Tinker had been struggling to open a small jar of mustard for nearly ten minutes before she’d wordlessly taken it from him and twisted it open with no effort at all. Mercifully, she hadn’t commented on that since. He reached over to her and shifted a damp lock of her mane off her left ear, revealing a dark splotch of soot beneath. “Missed a spot.”
“Those showers are freezing cold, okay?” she replied, brushing his hoof off her face and letting her mane drape back into place. “It’s not like I linger under it and triple-check every spot.”
Tinker glanced back at the pot on the stove. “Could you set the table? These should only need about two more minutes.”
“Sure thing!” Emma slipped past him and pulled two small bowl from the nearby cabinet, along with two spoons. Once she was gone, Tinker pulled out the trump card he’d kept hidden from her in spare pocket. A big, juicy tomato, albeit one with an ugly bruise on one side. Still, if it hadn’t been knocked off the cart and damaged he’d never have been able to get it at a reasonable price. Produce was a whole lot pricier here than in Canterlot, but today it was worth it. After all, there was a surprise announcement to celebrate. Slicing off the damaged chunk and dropping it into the trash, he divided what was left into three generous wedges before pulling the pot from the heat and levitating the whole arrangement towards the wobbly little table in the other room that Emma was in the process of setting for them.
“I hope I made enough. I’ve never seen a mare put away food like you do.”
She grinned. “What can I say? All that hauling dirt and rocks out of the ground works up a healthy appetite. Is that tomato?”
“Sure is.” A big scoop of the lentils went into her bowl, along with two of the tomato wedges. She looked ready to attack it right then and there, but before the first bite could reach her mouth Tinker held up a hoof and stopped her. “Actually, I want to tell you something before we start.”
Emma gave her dinner a longing look, but eventually forced her eyes back to Tinker. “Is it quick? I’m starving.”
“You know that little appliance repair shop next to the bakery on Stirrup Avenue?”
“What about it?”
Tinker couldn’t contain himself any longer. He’d been waiting for this moment all afternoon. “Guess who got a job there?”
“Tinker! That’s awesome!” Her food forgotten, she rushed around the table and lifted him up in a big hug. A very tight hug.
“Emma... air...”
“Sorry, sorry. Guess I don’t appreciate my own strength.” She lowered him to the ground as he gasped for breath. “So tell me more! What’s the job?”
Tinker shrugged, trying to play it off like no big deal even though Emma clearly wasn’t having that. “Pretty much what you’d expect. There’s a couple of us, and instead of salary we just take a percentage of the repair fees customers pay to the shop. It’s not a ton of bits, but it’s something.”
“I think it sounds right up your alley. I’m really excited for you.”
“Yeah, me too.” Emma began to eat, but Tinker hesitated. “Emma?”
“Hmm?” she asked, mouth already full.
“I just... thanks. I’m sorry I ended up mooching off of you for so long, and I’m gonna make sure I pay you back for the rent, the groceries, all the stuff you paid more than your fair share for. I hate that I’ve been such a burden on you these last couple of weeks.” He stared down into the bowl in front of him, poking and prodding at the fairly bland meal without all that much appetite, even if he’d been hungry before. That’s all he’d ever been, back in Canterlot. A spoiled colt who’d been living an empty, idle life.
“Look at me, Tinker.” Emma’s voice roused him from his navel gazing, and when he looked up at her he found her outright glaring back at him. “You are not a burden, and I’ve never thought of you as one. You just needed a couple weeks to get onto your hooves, but I haven’t doubted for a single minute that you would. You have a real talent for that stuff. Don’t let anypony ever convince you differently.” Her face softened. “That being said, my shoulder is killing me from work, and if you really want to repay me I wouldn’t say no to a backrub.”
“Sounds fair.” The two ponies went back to eating, Tinker only half listening to what Emma was saying about an ad for a cheap rug she’d spotted in the classified ads that morning. The apartment was decorated with whatever hodge podge of refurbished and discarded furniture they’d scrounged up, no two pieces of which really went with one another. A rug wouldn’t be a bad idea; the bare wooden floor was drafty, and there was a cold snap rolling through the city tonight. They’d need all the insulation they could get. Which reminded him. “Hey, do you want to take the bed tonight? If your shoulder is aching then sleeping on the couch might not be the best idea.”
Emma looked across the room at the single twin bed and bit her lip, considering. “I had it last night, and we agreed to alternate. The couch is fine.”
“You sure you’ll be warm enough with just the one blanket?”
She shrugged. “I’ll manage.” Her spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl, and she frowned down at the meal which had disappeared all too quickly. Although he’d started with less, Tinker’s supper was on its last legs as well. He savored the taste of the tomato, and the texture of it against his tongue, chewing it into oblivion before giving in and swallowing. When he got his first paycheck, the first time in his life he’d be earning his keep instead of just having it given to him, then he’d indulge in a good meal. But not before.
“Well, I’m stuffed,” said Emma, even though they both knew it was a lie. “Do you want to go out tonight? Celebrate the new job?”
“I would, but we’re kind of stretched a little thin right now, and don’t forget that the rent’s due next week.”
She sighed. “I know, I know. I guess it’s another quiet night in then. Not exactly living the high life, are we?”
“Maybe not. But at least it’s ours, right? Sometimes I wake up in the morning and still can’t believe we’re really doing this. I thought I’d be married by now instead.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “One of these days you’re going to crack and tell me all about what happened back in Canterlot that made you decide to leave in the first place.”
“I will if you do,” said Tinker. It was an old argument, and neither was willing to be the first to give ground. Privately, Tinker hoped he’d never have to admit that he’d left somepony at the altar to come and start a new life. That was the old, selfish him. While it wasn’t a decision he regretted, he didn’t want to have to justify the choice he’d made, not to Emma. If she even believed him in the first place.
“Not happening,” she replied, a guilty look darting across her face and a little nervous tic causing her ear to twitch. Right back at the same old impasse. Emma tilted her head, and winced as a loud wet pop sounded from her neck. “Now, if you aren’t doing anything tonight I’m taking you up on that back rub.”
“Sounds good. Just give me a few minutes to clean up.” The pot and bowls joined the morning’s dishes in the sink. They’d have to be dealt with, but not right away. Other priorities came first. When Tinker emerged from the kitchen again he found his roommate already splayed out across the bed, resting on her stomach. The thin cotton bedsheet draped over her flank from the waist down, just the tip of her tail sticking out behind her. She glanced back and gave it a little flick, stretching her legs out for the foot of the bed and pulling a pillow against her chest. Her back arched as she yawned, slipping a foreleg under her mane to pull it aside and expose her neck.
“You have no idea how badly I needed this tonight,” she said as Tinker trotted over to take a seat by the side of the bed. He ran a gentle touch along the length of her side as she let out an appreciative moan, trying to get a sense of where the tension was and where he should start. “Come on. Don’t be gentle.”
Figuring that her shoulders were as good a place to start as any, Tinker leaned over and pressed a hoof down hard into the tense and unyielding flesh. The moan he got in reply was a pretty good hint that he was on the right track, and soon enough he settled into a steady kneading rhythm. “How’s that?”
“Didn’t I say not to be gentle? You’re hardly going to break me in half if you use a little more pressure.”
Tinker frowned. He thought he had been pushing harder. Trying to get a little more force from this angle wasn’t panning out either. There just wasn’t enough leverage. “Would you mind if I tried something a little different?”
“What did you have in mind?” asked Emma, sounding half-asleep already under his touch.
Rather than explain, Tinker decided that it would be faster not to bother as he climbed the rest of the way into bed with Emma, swinging a hind leg over her back to straddle her hips.
She certainly wasn’t asleep now. “Tinker, what do you think yoooooooooooooohhhhhhh that’s the spot.” She twisted and shifted to get more comfortable underneath him as he pressed the full weight of his body down into a single point at the small of her back, the stress flowing away as her muscles unravelled. The sheet between them did nothing to block the warmth seeping up from her body.
“Is that better?”
“Mmmmmmmmmm... little higher up?”
“You’ve got it.” To reach, Tinker bent forward and propped himself up on the elbow of one foreleg. From here, he couldn’t really generate the same kind of pressure, but the mare pressed up against him from beneath didn’t seem to mind all that much. She lolled her neck in wide, lazy circles, stopping occasionally if a particular spot was especially stiff and needed extra work. As Tinker continued to work she relaxed even more deeply, her breathing becoming shallower and faster. The intertwined smells of sweat, earth, and something altogether muskier assaulted his nostrils. In the meantime, it was getting tougher for him to stay balanced on top of her, the way she kept wriggling around. “This would be easier if you would stay still.”
“Sorry, I’m mmph!” she blushed, another moan cut short as she clamped her lips shut for several seconds. It took a few seconds for her to regain her composure, then she cleared her throat. “I’ll try. But keep going.”
Rolling his eyes, Tinker went back to it. Really, why wouldn’t this mare just hold still? He tightened the grip he had on her with his hind legs in a last ditch attempt to regain some control lest he get pitched off the bed entirely. Squeezing her barrel, he shifted his weight to press her deeper into the folds of the sheets, and it seemed to be working as she stopped squirming and settled for grinding her hips into the mattress. Then, all at once, he felt her gasp and go rigid. “Emma? Are you alright?”
All Tinker could see of her was the back of her head as she stared away and off at the wall on the far side of the room. Whatever had just happened, it had undone the last ten minutes of relaxation for her. “...Fine. I’m fine,” she said. “I think that’s enough for right now, though.”
Tinker furrowed his brow and tried to maneuver around for a better look at her face, but was denied when she turned away from him. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Thanks, though, it was... well, just thanks I guess.” She finally looked back at him, her smile a bit less confident than usual. Her nose twitched. “Do you smell that?”
He certainly did. It was rather hard not to, in fact, the earthy primal musk seeping into his nostrils from somewhere he couldn’t quite identify.”What is that? Is it coming from the kitchen?”
Emma didn’t move even as he clambered off of the bed. Whatever that odd scent was, he didn’t mind it. It was strange, but he couldn’t call it unpleasant. He took a few steps towards their bathroom and just let it seep into him. “Probably the kitchen,” said Emma, who hadn’t moved from between the sheets. “You should go check. Like, right now.”
Tinker dutifully wandered into the kitchen, giving the sinkful of dirty dishes a experimental sniff as he tried to track down the source of the odor. It wasn’t coming from there, and he was just about to turn around and head back into the main room when he heard the bathroom door slam shut. Trotting out to check on Emma, he was surprised to find the bed stripped bare of its sheets, all of them dumped in a heap inside the communal hamper. “Emma?”
“Don’t come in!” He froze with a hoof halfway extended towards the doorknob. “I missed that one spot behind my ear, so I figured I’d better take another shower. And the laundry hamper is getting kind of full, so I figured since there’s nothing we need to do tonight I’d do a few loads.”
Tinker raised a skeptical eyebrow as he glanced back at the hamper that was, at the very most, half-full. “Do you want me to bring it down to the laundromat? I don’t mind.”
“NO! I mean, uh, don’t worry about it. You just got a job, so you should take the night off. Like as a reward or whatever. Take things easy. Just leave it and I’ll take care of everything,” said Emma.
“Okay, if you’re...” he trailed off as the sound of running water started up from inside the bathroom. “...sure.”
“Huh,” he said, mostly to himself. Mares were weird.
--------------------------------
It wasn’t that cold. What a wimp he would be if he were shivering here under the good blanket, which he totally wasn’t.
At least, not that much.
Okay, maybe a little.
Maybe more than a little.
How was it this cold?
Tossing and turning in the bed, Tinker had spent roughly half of the last hour staring at his roommate’s back. She’d been oddly quiet all evening since she’d come back from the laundromat with their bedsheets. The thin cotton sheets, far thinner than the blankets he was shivering under, hugged every bulge in her back; she really had bulked up quite a bit since she’d gotten her new job. It fit her, he thought. She was reliable. Solid. So much... more than a pony like him. But hey! First thing Monday that would all change. He’d go into the shop and... no. He Shouldn’t. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Completely inappropriate to even consider. He stared at the small of Emma’s back beneath the sheets.
“Aren’t you cold?”
He regretted asking before the question was even out of his mouth. She was probably asleep, Princesses knew she deserved it after a day of hard labor. The last thing she’d want would be disturbed by—
“Hmm? It’s not awful.”
Tinker froze. Slightly more literally than he already had, seriously, how was it this cold?
“I just...” What? He sincerely wished he had something meaningful to say, but it was not to be. “You’re sure you don’t want the bed?” he said, which was obviously stupid.
“Don’t be stupid,” said Emma, confirming it. Not just stupid, but he was being inconsiderate and rude. “It’s your turn.”
“...What if we shared it?”
Where had that come from? The entire reason they’d decided they should alternate was because it was a tiny mattress, and unless the two of them were willing to get really, really intimate with one another...
Wow, it wasn’t cold at all any more. Maybe a bit on the warm side, actually.
“You want me to share it with you?” asked Emma.
“I just... you work pretty hard, and the couch can’t be that comfortable,” said Tinker. His desperate attempts to find some avenue to backpedal down weren’t bearing fruit. “You know what? Forget it.”
There was a very long, very uncomfortable silence. Then Emma broke it. “...I am a little bit chilly.” She rolled over, but kept the sheet she’d been sleeping under pressed against her chest.
“It’s up to you,” said Tinker. He was cold again. So cold, sitting there in the damp and cold winter staring out at the silhouette of the mare who... all that mining was probably quite the workout, right? No wonder she wasn’t cold. She must be—
He barely even registered her slipping underneath the covers and cuddling up against him. There had been all those perfectly good reasons she wouldn’t be cold to the touch so why the heck were her hooves like ice? He couldn’t help it; he gasped.
“Sorry!” Those ice-cold hooves darted away, much to his relief. Then again, they hadn’t been that bad...
Slipping between those icy, bedeviled hooves Tinker drew Emma closer until their chests pressed against one another, nestled together with just a ratty old comforter protecting them from the elements. Still, it seemed like enough. “You think you’ll be able to sleep okay like this?”
“I hope so,” she replied, “Slate will tan my hide if I doze off in the middle of a shift.”
“Oh yeah? He sounds like quite the taskmaster.”
“She, actually,” said Emma. “Funny, though. The first time I saw her I did a bit of a double take before I realized she wasn’t a stallion. A lot of the mares who’ve worked there for a while... well, it isn’t exactly the most feminine bunch.”
Tinker wasn’t quite sure what to say to that, nor why Emma’s forelegs tightened around him just a bit as she said it. He was too busy wondering whether or not this was the time to ask the question that had been on his mind all afternoon, ever since he’d found out about the new job. “Hey, Emma? There’s been something on my mind lately, and I could use a female opinion.”
“Oh yeah? What’s up?”
“It’s...” well, too late to back out now. “There’s kind of this mare. And I think... I think I have feelings for her.”
“Really?” Tinker could hear the grin spreading across her face in the playful tone of Emma’s voice.
“Yeah, really. We pretty much hit it off right from the first time we met. But I’m not sure I really want to tell her that. If she doesn’t feel the same way, it would sort of make things weird. Really weird, actually; I wouldn’t really be able to avoid her. What do you think?”
Emma took a long time thinking quietly, though Tinker felt her heartbeat quicken as he waited for her reply. “I think you should tell her,” she finally said. “Even if she didn’t feel the same way about you, it’s probably best to be honest with her. But I don’t think you need to worry about that, because... I have this crazy hunch that she has feelings for you too.”
As exciting as that possibility was, Tinker still found himself hesitant. “I’m not even sure what you’re supposed to say.”
“Why don’t... please don’t laugh, but why don’t you tell her that every moment you get to be with her is a dream come true? Because she just might feel like every time she looks at you and sees you smiling at her, she wants to pinch herself just because she can’t believe it’s real. Hypothetically.”
Tinker leaned back and studied the back of her head, but Emma made no move or sound lying there next to him. “You don’t think that’s a little bit too cheesy?”
“I think it’s exactly the right amount of cheesy. It’s worth a shot.”
“If you say so.” Tinker sighed, feeling the weight of the world fall off his shoulders. “Thanks, Em. I was worried that asking out somepony who’s going to be my co worker would make things really awkward.”
“...Who’s going to be what?”
“My co worker. At the repair shop. Her name’s Melody, and she’s just... I don’t know. I just know that I looked at her for the first time and it was like I’d just gotten run over by a wagon. Her smile, her mane, her laugh, she’s the whole package. You don’t know how much it means to me to hear that you really think I might have a chance with somepony like that.”
“Well...” Emma trailed off and for a long while they just laid there in silence. “Of course you do. She sounds very... feminine. I’m sure that’s the kind of pony who will make you happy.” She got up from the bed. “It’s a little warm with both of us under the covers. I think I’ll go back to the couch.”
Tinker watched her walk away, the slowly fading warmth on the other side of the mattress only emphasizing the void she left as she did. She clambered back onto the couch and huddled up beneath the thin covering of the sheet she was using as a blanket. Tinker wasn’t really sure that it was enough. Not if the way he noticed her shaking and trembling alone there just before he fell asleep was anything to go by