Bulk Biceps was not a chef by any stretch of the imagination. He was very good at making wheatgrass shakes, cereal, and he was very good at making toast; but that was about where his culinary skills ended.
So thus it was that he was reading a foal's cookbook that had come from some traveling book fair that had visited his little brother's school. Even so, some of these recipes seemed quite difficult. Things like tbsp and fl oz and other words that didn't make sense littered the page. Clearly, the instructions to 'ask an adult for help before starting' were flawed, as he was an adult and felt out of his league.
His nervousness didn't help, either. Fluttershy was coming over tonight, and it needed to be perfect. Literally perfect.
He had just about resigned himself to ordering takeout instead when he heard a small hoof scuff behind him. Featherweight stood there, head cocked curiously. He'd probably been standing there a while before making the noise.
Bulk Biceps grinned sheepishly and tried to hide the book behind his body, but Featherweight had already seen. Featherweight squinted curiously, and then his eyes widened in understanding. He raised a hoof and drew the outline of Fluttershy's mane, looking questioningly at Bulk.
“Yeah,” Bulk Biceps said, with just the tiniest bit of a blush.
Featherweight's mouth curled up evilly, and he couldn't prevent a hoof from twitching towards where his camera would sit on his neck.
“No,” Bulk Biceps said firmly.
Featherweight didn't flinch.
Bulk exhaled, defeated. Featherweight had him by the ears. Even if he did tie him to the bed with one of his barbells on his chest to trap him (something he hadn't done to his brother in years), Featherweight would get out. At times Bulk could swear his cutie mark was for getting into places he wasn't supposed to go.
Sighing, he withdrew a five bit piece from under his wing and held it out in offering.
Featherweight glanced down and then looked back up, managing to look offended just by blinking, without even changing his expression.
Bulk glared, but Featherweight stood firm. Grumbling under his breath, he pulled out his last five bit piece, and Featherweight snatched them both from his hoof.
Satisfied that his evening with Fluttershy would be uninterrupted, he turned back towards the book on the counter… and nearly flattened Featherweight, who now stood behind him.
Completely oblivious to the fact that he had almost gotten crushed under his much larger sibling, Featherweight reached for the cookbook and flipped through its pages. He soon found what he was looking for, and slid it over. Bulk Biceps peered over his little shoulder and read.
Simple Spaghetti with Easy Cheesy Garlic Bread
Simple and easy were good words, and cheesy wasn't so bad itself. With a grateful (if mildly begrudging) nod to his little brother, he began assembling the ingredients. Featherweight grinned and happily trotted off.
Bulk Biceps had finished the bread and had just about measured out three cups of water when he was suddenly surprised by the sound of hacking and coughing. He spun around, barely managing to not spill any of the water, and saw Featherweight, choking on the ground. A stolen garlic breadstick with a bite out of it lay on the floor.
Seeing as how Featherweight wasn't in any mortal danger, Bulk spared a chuckle; which quickly dissolved into silent horror. That could have been Fluttershy choking on his garlic bread, and that would have ruined everything.
Featherweight grabbed the measuring cup of water from Bulk's hooves and chugged it. Then he tossed it down, scowled at his brother, and spread out his hooves, wordlessly demanding an explanation.
Bulk innocently pointed at the cookbook, claiming plausible deniability.
Featherweight scowled. Shaking his head in exasperation, he trotted over to the counter and scanned the ingredient list, and he soon found the culprit. He picked up the large spoon still caked with garlic powder and held it out.
Bulk nodded. It had said sprinkle heaping spoonfuls on top of the bread.
Featherweight facehoofed. He tossed the spoon into the sink, trudged over to the cutlery drawer, opened it, and held out a teaspoon.
Bulk frowned. If they'd wanted a teaspoon, why didn't they just say-?
Oh.
Tsp. Teaspoon. Like Tshirt, but not.
Scowling right back, Bulk Biceps snatched the spoon out of his brother's hooves and returned to the counter. Satisfied, Featherweight turned to trot away… only to be stopped by his brother grabbing hold of his tail with his teeth and dragging him back. Bulk placed a hoof firmly on Featherweight's chest, pressing him against the counter. With a curt nod, he let him know that that was right where he was staying.
Featherweight grimaced as he realized that he had just 'volunteered' as resident taste tester.
Finally, with a generous dash of feta cheese atop the salad, Featherweight was satisfied. He turned to Bulk Biceps and nodded, pronouncing it good.
“Yeah!” Bulk said, pleased with how this had all turned out. He held out a hoof for bumping, and Featherweight returned it.
Then both froze as there came a quiet knock on the door.
Bulk Biceps sprang into action, bumping Featherweight with his head and quite literally pushing him outside through the back door (which had been left open after a particularly bad batch of bread). Then he slammed the door, sprinted back, and opened the front door.
There she was.
Fluttershy.
“Am I too early?” She scuffed a hoof on the ground nervously. “I didn't mean to be if I am…”
Bulk chuckled and shook his head. He would never not be happy to see Fluttershy, early or late. He turned and, with a head gesture, invited her inside.
As she passed him, he suddenly became keenly aware that he still smelled like sweat and kitchen accidents. He froze. Fluttershy didn't seem to mind (or if she did, she hid it well), but he was still nervous.
And he couldn't be nervous for tonight.
One of the things he liked best about Fluttershy was the fact that she let him be him. She didn't require deep conversation or anything; she was perfectly content to eat in silence, their only communication being glances, smiles, playful winks, and slight blushing when eye contact was held for too long.
But as their dinner continued, Bulk began to worry. Did she like the food? Did she want anything else? He needed this to be perfect.
Fluttershy, always observant, noticed his discomfort, and set down her fork. “Are you all right?” she asked.
“Y- yeah,” Bulk lied.
Fluttershy slid her chair back. “A-are you sure? Because I can come back another night if-”
“No!” She couldn't leave yet! Bulk Biceps rushed over and placed his hooves on her shoulders, pushing her gently but firmly back down on the chair.
Fluttershy paused. Her eyes flicked over to his hooves, then back up at him. “Bulk Biceps, what's going on?” she asked, confusion (and a hint of trepidation) in her voice.
Bulk realized that that might have been too rough. He quickly released his hooves and then, after a brief inner struggle, knew it was time to just buck up and do it.
He closed his eyes, bowed his head, and pulled from under a wing one of his primary feathers. This was not just any feather; it had been fashioned into a necklace, using a hoof-woven material. Aside from the feather which hung from the necklace, other important items were hung. Two tiny silver charms also hung, one fashioned into a tiny butterfly glistening with tiny gems on one side, and the other small dumbbell on the opposite side.
In other words, the perfect item for asking Fluttershy to marry him.
His head was bowed as he held out the offering, as per pegasus tradition, so he couldn't see her reaction.
He could, however, hear a gasp.
And, after what felt like an agonizingly long moment, he felt himself rolling backwards as Fluttershy tackled him into a tight hug and rubbed their noses together.
Bulk Biceps quite literally skipped inside the house. Walking Fluttershy home had been great enough; she walked with her flank pressed up against his and even brushed her wing up against his cutie mark once or twice along the way when she thought no one else was watching.
But when they'd gotten to her house, she had kissed him on the lips and had even spread her wings for him.
Of course, he only got one good caress in before her shyness overcame her and she squeaked and blushed furiously and clamped her wings against her sides and hid under her mane; but she had clearly enjoyed it while it had lasted.
And judging from how she had looked both ways before whispering that he should come over tomorrow for tea, just the two of them, he would soon get that chance again.
He opened the door to his bedroom and paused. There on his pillow was a large Manila envelope.
Strange, he mused. Mail usually came in the morning. Still, he was curious, and slid it open and dumped the contents out.
A sheet of glossy paper fluttered to the bed. He picked it up and gasped. It was a picture of Fluttershy, at their table, captured clasping her hooves to her mouth at the exact moment Bulk had held out his offering. Her eyes were wide and glistening with happy tears. He had never seen her so happy. This was a moment he wished he could have seen, and a picture he would definitely treasure.
He looked down and saw his two five bit pieces on the blanket as well. Bulk Biceps couldn't help but chuckle. Oh, Featherweight… He was a good kid, and Bulk mentally promised to take him out for ice cream next week after his next paycheck.
His expression soured somewhat as he noticed another thing that had fallen out of the envelope and was now sitting cheekily face up on the bed.
A safe sex pamphlet, also from that book fair. Featherweight must have swiped it when no one was looking.
Bulk Biceps scowled, crinkled it up, and tossed it at his trash can. He could almost swear he could hear his brother, laughing his feathers off from somewhere else in the house. Well, the joke was on him; he was going to get one doozy of a noogie tomorrow, right when he least expected it.
Bulk's frown softened slightly. Well, maybe. But he'd definitely get the ice cream.
Fluttershy paced nervously in place in front of the oven. “Oh, no,” she murmured, looking over at Angel. “What if I put in too much vanilla? I know it said one teaspoon, but…”
Angel Bunny rolled his eyes and hit her on the back of the head with a paper towel roll.
Fluttershy winced. “Oh, I know I'm probably overreacting; but it has to be perfect!”
Angel shook his head and hit her again.
“You're right,” she said, a hint of confidence entering her voice. “No matter what happens, I know he'll be happy because I tried my best!”
Angel nodded triumphantly.
Fluttershy looked back at the timer. It seemed to slow down and tick even more slowly as she stared at it. She glanced back down at the cake inside the oven, but couldn't see much through the tiny window. She stood up. Maybe she could mix the frosting while she waited for it to finish baking. It had to be perfect!
Fluttershy gently loaded the cake onto a little cart, and held the pan in place with a few well-placed ropes. She pulled them tight, then looked over her cake and bit her lower lip. She couldn't do anything about the cake, of course; but if she walked slowly, it should be perfectly safe. With a nervous little sigh, she hitched herself into the harness. The time for planning was over; the time for action was now. Angel Bunny waved goodbye as she started off on her journey.
She made it safely over the bridge and back through town. A relieved smile crossed her face. She had chosen her time wisely; traffic on the roads was limited to a few early risers and foals enjoying a day off of school.
She slowly pulled the cart further through town, taking it gently over the rough road. She had made it within sight of her destination when suddenly, her ears pricked up. She knew that sound. That was the sound of distressed quacking. Ears swiveling, she pulled a little further until she found the source.
A mother duck was fussing over a hay pile, with three little ducklings walking around her. From inside the hay, there was more little quacking. They must have been playing on top when it came unbalanced, and the ducklings had been buried underneath.
Fluttershy glanced over at the ducklings, then back towards her destination. Then she sighed. She knew what she had to do.
She pulled the cart to the side of the road, out of the way, then ducked out of the harness and scampered over. The mother duck looked up and quacked hopefully. “Don't worry,” Fluttershy said comfortingly. “I'll get your babies out.” She explored gently with her hooves and uncovered one, then two, then three grateful little ducklings.
The mother duck quacked thankfully, and Fluttershy scuffed a hoof demurely. “Oh, it's no trouble, really,” she said. She waved goodbye as the duckling train continued on its way, further from town and any dangerous hay.
Fluttershy looked up just in time to see two fillies step off the sidewalk and intentionally bump her cart. They giggled as the cart began to roll down the hill and picked up speed. Fluttershy gasped in horror and flew to catch up; but she wasn't fast enough.
The cart hit a bump, and the cake flew out of its restraints and exploded against the nearby wall in a spray of frosting and cake. Fluttershy skidded to a stop and sank to the ground, tears brimming in her eyes. Ruined! Everything, ruined! All her plans for her anniversary, ruined!
“Huh,” Diamond Tiara observed blithely. “So that's what happens when ponies leave things where they shouldn't be.”
“B- but it was off to the side-” Fluttershy whimpered.
“Too bad,” Diamond Tiara shrugged. “Oh well. I've got plenty of bits. Maybe if you've learned your lesson-”
Her voice trailed off as Fluttershy turned and Stared at her. A cold chill ran up her spine, and ice encased the back of her skull. “I…can… buy you… a new… one…?”
“I'm really sorry I missed our lunch date this morning, and I'm really sorry I couldn't bring the cake,” Fluttershy apologized again, kneading the picnic blanket under her hooves. “Something… came up, and I ruined all our plans.”
Bulk Biceps leaned in close and nuzzled the top of her head. “S'fine,” he said comfortingly, holding her as tightly as he dared. “I just wanted to spend time with you today, anyway.” He glanced over at his brother and scowled. “If anything, I should apologize,” he grumbled. He had asked Featherweight to stay at home today; so, of course, Featherweight had tagged along, unseen, until they had arrived at Fluttershy's cottage. He was currently taking pictures of some of the many mice that frequented Fluttershy's house. They seemed to enjoy the attention, and were posing for him. As annoyed as he was, he couldn't help but crack a smile as the mouse in front of him reared up and flexed her muscles for the camera.
“If you're sure… Thanks for bringing the sandwiches,” she said. “I know it's not a nice cake, but I like them.”
Bulk Biceps shrugged modestly, finding it prudent to not mention that Featherweight had made most of them.
Ok, all of them; but really, who was counting?
A scraping sound made him look over. His eyes widened as he saw Diamond Tiara, her mane rumpled and her tiara skewed, shoveling out the old hay and other gunk from the bottom of the chicken coop. He heard her grumbling something about this not being the way she'd planned on spending her Saturday when she froze and looked up. She met Fluttershy's eyes and flinched, and quickly ducked back inside the chicken coop. The sound of scraping came even faster.
“What was that all about?” Bulk Biceps had to ask.
Fluttershy shrugged. “She volunteered.”
Bulk Biceps froze. The blood drained from his face and his wings clenched tightly against his body. He couldn’t. He couldn’t! There was no way he possibly could! How was he supposed to respond to that?
Fluttershy swallowed. “M- maybe you didn’t hear me,” she said, worrying. She was a very quiet pony, and sometimes others just couldn't hear her. She spoke up again, a bit louder this time. “I was wondering if you’d like to come with me to see the butterfly migration. Last year Rainbow Dash came with me, but this year I’d- I'd really like it if you came. If you want to, that is.”
“Y- yeah,” Bulk Biceps said shakily. He glanced up at Fluttershy, and any hope he’d had of trying to think of a good excuse to back out melted at her innocent, excited expression. She had the sweetest smile. He couldn't let her down. He just couldn't. “Yeah,” he repeated. “I'll come.”
Fluttershy squeed excitedly and grabbed him in a tight hug, which Bulk Biceps was only too happy to return.
As she flew away, though, his stomach churned; and he hung his head the instant she disappeared from sight. What had he gotten himself into?
Bulk Biceps scowled angrily at nothing in particular as he bench pressed his weights. His forelegs burned, but not as badly as his anger inside. It just wasn't fair. It just wasn't right.
He, Bulk Biceps, arguably the strongest pony in town, was afraid.
Of butterflies.
Sure, they weren't all bad. Fluttershy had butterflies on her flank. They were cute. And also were just images. But real butterflies…
He shuddered and racked his barbell. It was break time. He grabbed the proffered towel and scrubbed at his mane, drying some of the frothy sweat off his neck. He looked back up and was entirely unsurprised to see Featherweight standing there, holding out a tall glass of water as well, which Bulk Biceps gratefully accepted.
When he'd drained it, he gave Featherweight a friendly smile. “What's up?”
Featherweight shrugged, and then nodded upwards at him, letting Bulk Biceps know that it was his turn to answer.
Bulk Biceps shrugged. “Nothing.”
Featherweight narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Something was up, and he knew it.
Bulk Biceps tried a disarming smile. “Would I lie to you, little bro?”
Featherweight scowled.
“It was one time!” Bulk Biceps protested, the incident Featherweight was thinking of instantly coming to mind. Featherweight had felt deeply betrayed and had avoided his brother like the plague for the better part of a month; and Bulk Biceps had never put pepper in an unattended drink again.
Featherweight tapped a forehoof, clearly still expecting an answer.
“Nothing's wrong,” Bulk Biceps said a bit too quickly. “Why would you think that?”
Featherweight looked flatly at him and pointed over at the calendar on the wall. Bulk Biceps followed his hoof and winced as he realized what he'd missed.
Today was a hind leg day, not a foreleg day.
Cursing his brother for being so observant, he tossed the towel at Featherweight's face and rolled back onto his back to resume his workout.
But after two reps, he felt the bar get a bit heavier, and he opened his eyes to see Featherweight balancing precariously on the bar. His wings were spread for balance and he glared determinedly. He wanted an answer, and he was determined to get one.
So Bulk Biceps carefully racked his weight, got off the bench, gently picked his brother up with his teeth by the nape of his neck, placed him outside the door, and shut it behind him.
Bulk Biceps adjusted his scrubs and then reached up and tied the headband firmly around his head. He grinned at himself in the mirror. Yeah! He was ready! He was going to rock this workday!
His grin faded somewhat as he saw Featherweight standing behind him, silently watching him.
He glared and shook his head. He wasn't telling.
One side of Featherweight's mouth curled up in a knowing half-smile, and he stepped backwards, slowly fading back into the shadows and out of sight. He had his ways.
Bulk Biceps couldn't suppress a small shudder.
Bulk Biceps came back inside the house, dropped himself on the couch, and exhaled, feeling exhausted but fulfilled. Having picked up a job at the spa was great. He got to meet a lot of new ponies and help them feel better.
He also ended up breaking a lot of walls, and that tended to come out of his paycheck. At least Featherweight hadn’t shown up. That whole shift, he had been looking over his shoulder, expecting to see his little brother out of the corner of his eye.
That had led to an awkward situation because of some sheer bad luck. Aloe seemed to be standing behind him every time he had checked for his brother, and after an angry glare from Lotus it became horrifyingly clear that it looked like he was checking out Aloe's flank. He had, of course, apologized profusely, explained the situation (which she seemed moderately disinclined to accept) and had hid in the bathroom in shame for his whole lunch break.
As he inhaled, though, it seemed like new life came into him. A sweet smell wafted through the air, and he floated along over to the kitchen.
Featherweight was hovering above the stove, wearing an apron just a bit too long for him (but honestly, most clothes were too big for his tiny frame). He looked back and grinned widely. He lifted up a tray and held it out invitingly, waving it in small circles to waft the scent over.
Lasagna. Bulk Biceps’ favorite dinner. Licking his lips, he ruffled Featherweight's mane and sat down at the table.
With a devious grin, Featherweight spread his wings and flew over, placing the lasagna in the center of the table. But he wasn't done yet. He flew back over to the kitchen. He grabbed a thick cloth in his mouth and opened the oven.
Bulk Biceps' jaw dropped. Oatmeal cookies. Also his favorites.
He narrowed his eyes as Featherweight innocently sauntered back to the table with a plate full of cookies. Ooh, he was good.
But not good enough. He took one and shook his head at his brother. Still wasn't telling.
Featherweight folded his forelegs and huffed.
Bulk Biceps shoved the cookie in his mouth and chewed contentedly, his eyes subconsciously closing as he did. He swallowed and then reached for another… but he found the plate empty.
Confused and with his hoof still outstretched, he looked up at Featherweight, who still maintained his huffy expression. Except now, though, his apron seemed to be bulging out in more places than normal. His expression cracked only to stick his tongue out, revealing a cookie, before pulling it back into his mouth and chewing pointedly.
Bulk Biceps scowled. At least he still had lasagna.
Bulk Biceps reached up and tapped the cloud, stopping the warm water flow. He shook his short mane out and reached out for the towel.
His hoof hit nothing but air. He reached a few more times, but still could not find his towel. Scowling, he tore opened the curtain, looking for the elusive towel. He found it hanging from Featherweight's hoof. He held it out, as if making an offer.
An offer Bulk Biceps was not about to accept. He stepped out of the shower stall, looked Featherweight right in the eyes… and shook, sending water flying everywhere.
Featherweight, now with his mane drenched and hanging over his eyes, nodded once, then began drying himself off with the towel. Bulk Biceps reached for it, but Featherweight ducked under his hoof. He stuck his tongue out and dodged the reach, and darted out of the bathroom with the towel in tow.
Bulk Biceps scowled. He'd probably get the towel back in his bed tonight, under his covers and still wet.
But it wouldn’t work! He was not about to tell Featherweight that his older brother was afraid of butterflies!
Scowling (and still dripping water), Bulk Biceps trudged out and headed for outside. A quick fly would dry him off, and then he could find Featherweight and give him a noogie.
It was around noon when Bulk Biceps paused and set down his paintbrush. It had been a while since he’d seen Featherweight. He frowned. That probably meant he was up to no good. Just on a hunch, he sighed and looked up at the ceiling, as if frustrated. “Scram, Featherweight!”
There was a thunk, and Featherweight crawled out from under the desk, rubbing his head painfully from where he’d bumped it. He scowled at his brother and then trotted away with his nose and short tail up proudly, looking just like a cat who had accidentally fallen off a ledge and then staunchly pretended that nothing embarrassing had happened.
Bulk Biceps blinked. How had he hidden under there? His fur was a light cream color! He should have stuck out like a stray feather! Furthermore, why had he hidden there? Not in the bathroom, not under the bed, not even in the vent or outside; but under the desk?
Bulk Biceps snorted. He’d never understand his brother.
Bulk Biceps lifted the sack of wheatgrass seeds off the pantry. “Hey, Featherw- Featherweight?!” He jumped back.
Sure enough, his little brother's face grinned impishly back at him from the space where the wheatgrass had been.
Bulk Biceps placed a hoof over his pounding heart. “Stop doing that! How’d you get back there, anyway?” he demanded.
Featherweight looked down at himself and shrugged. Squirming like a worm, he slowly fed himself through the space and back out into the kitchen. He looked up expectantly at him.
Bulk Biceps sighed heavily. When Featherweight wanted to know something, he could be astoundingly persistent. It was already day three. If he wanted any peace this week, he'd have to tell. “Fine,” he grumbled, heading back to the table. He sat down and Featherweight sat across from him, hooves tucked under his chin as he sat expectantly.
“Butterflies,” Bulk Biceps blurted.
Featherweight cocked his head.
“Butterflies,” Bulk Biceps repeated, looking down. “I don't like butterflies.”
There was an odd sound coming from the other side. Quiet. Breathy. Repeated. Bulk Biceps hadn't heard it often, but he recognized it instantly.
Featherweight was laughing at him.
Scowling, Bulk Biceps pushed away from the table and came back with the evidence: A Foal's First Guide to Insects.
He flipped to the page and shuddered before holding it out. “See?” he demanded, shoving it in Featherweight's face.
Featherweight blinked, taken aback. The picture was a close up of a butterfly's mouthparts. Proboscis and antennae and huge, round compound eyes looked back at him.
“Scary, huh?” Bulk Biceps challenged.
Featherweight gave him a half-smile and shook his head. Instead, he pointed to the bottom of the page, at the credit line alongside the picture. Bulk Biceps tilted his head to read it.
Picture credit: Featherweight
Bulk Biceps scowled and snapped the book shut and tossed it away. “The point is, I don't like butterflies, and Fluttershy invited me to go watch the butterfly migration.”
Featherweight's eyes widened. Now he understood.
“And…” Bulk Biceps tapped his hooves together. “I said I'd go; but…”
Featherweight nodded. Since ancient history, pegasi had been all about showing that they'd be a great match for their partner; and being afraid of something Fluttershy loved would definitely make him look like an incompatible partner.
The thing was, Featherweight liked Fluttershy. She was very kind to him, she had a lovely singing voice, and she had never made any fuss about him not speaking. In fact, when she’d found out he didn’t, she had remained quiet too for the rest of the afternoon in a show of solidarity.
So really there was only one thing for Featherweight to do.
He leaned forward and pushed the sides of his brother's mouth upwards into a crude smile and gave him an encouraging nod. He would help.
Bulk Biceps snorted, but he really had no choice. “Thanks, bro,” he grumbled.
Bulk Biceps paced around the clearing. Featherweight had indicated that he should meet here and at this time; but hadn't specified why.
A movement startled him. He looked up at the sky, and then over at the tree nearby. It shook threateningly, and he took an unsteady step back.
And then something fell from the tree. Bulk Biceps jumped… and then froze.
Featherweight swung down from the branches, wearing an enormous butterfly costume.
Bulk Biceps burst out laughing. He couldn't help it. His brother looked so ridiculous! The compound eyes made of basketballs and the wings made of bedsheets and the antennae that had been old coat hangers and a party streamer for a proboscis; he just laughed.
Featherweight dropped the streamer as his mouth curled down in an indignant frown. He huffed, irritated. Clearly, his brother thought himself above this kind of thing. Maybe it was time to up the ante a bit.
He reached back into his saddlebag and pulled out a jar. With a devious smile, he checked to make sure his brother was still distracted before he unscrewed the perforated lid, releasing the creature within.
Bulk Biceps wiped at his eyes… and came face to face with a curious butterfly. He shrieked and turned tail and bravely ran away.
Featherweight watched him run. He snorted and nodded once. Served him right.
Bulk Biceps lifted a hoof and leaned to one side as a gaggle of young, giggling pegasus foals rushed past him, overeager and not paying attention to where they were flying. He looked up at Featherweight and narrowed an eye, wordlessly requesting an explanation.
In response, Featherweight merely smiled and waved him forward. Bulk Biceps sighed and trudged forward. He wasn't sure what good visiting the Cloudsdale Museum was going to do.
Once inside, the first thing he noticed was the hard floor. He tapped once. These must have been supercompressed clouds for visitors of all the tribes. Or maybe it was to make sure the exhibits didn't fall though. He glanced over at the metal armor and cracked a smile at the thought of it crashing through the floor and crash landing in front of some young foal in a field somewhere.
He suddenly became aware of a slight pressure on his flank. He glanced back and saw Featherweight, trying valiantly to push him forwards with both hooves.
Of course, he would have had better luck trying to move the whole museum.
Still, Bulk Biceps cracked a smile and humored his brother, walking forward in the direction he was pushing. They walked past the exhibits about the various kinds of clouds and past the unicorn wing.
Finally, they reached the animal exhibit. It started with the creatures that lived in the sky, mostly the various kinds of birds. He paused to squint at the two-headed eagle—how did it even eat?—but then he felt Featherweight pushing him onwards.
Bulk Biceps stepped into the next room… and froze. Little insects dotted the walls, their bodies pinned into place. They were everywhere, all shapes and sizes and colored in browns and grays and…
And…
And it didn't bother him.
It didn't bother him!
Bulk Biceps' chest swelled. He looked around triumphantly. He could do it! He could stand in the presence of butterflies! He looked back at Featherweight, but for some reason, he didn't seem too impressed. With a perfectly flat, deadpan expression, he raised a hoof and pointed at a sign on the wall.
Moths. These were moths, not butterflies.
Bulk Biceps chuckled sheepishly.
Featherweight rolled his eyes and kept walking.
The next room had the butterflies. Just looking in made Bulk Biceps' short tail clamp down nervously, but he pressed on anyway.
He stepped into the room and took a steadying breath. It was ok. He could do this. He looked back and saw Featherweight, eagerly nodding his encouragement. He stepped forward. He could do this. He could do this.
He slowly looked around, and he could almost hear screeching violins of horror. He spun around but everywhere he looked it was nothing but butterflies.
Butterflies.
He couldn't do this.
With a fearful screech, he turned tail and ran for the door. Unfortunately, his panicked rotations had disoriented him, and though he expected a doorway, he crashed right through a wall instead.
A showering of glass and chunks of cloud rained down on his head. Bulk Biceps sighed. He glanced over at the snake next to him. It was fake; but it looked to be directly eye-level with him. In fact, it seemed to be looking right at him, almost judgingly. He scowled at it. “What're you looking at?” he demanded of it before getting up and brushing himself off.
Featherweight shuddered, hovering in the air as high as he could. Why did it have to be snakes? And why was his brother ok with snakes but not butterflies? Featherweight shook his head. And Bulk Biceps thought he was weird.
And then he felt the tap on his shoulder from a security guard.
Featherweight carried a small bundle of crayons in his mouth over to the table. So what if they'd each been given year-long bans from the museum? There were still plenty of options to try and decrease his brother's fear. He set the bundle down and spread the paper across the table.
Bulk Biceps raised an eyebrow.
Featherweight picked up a crayon in his mouth and looked up expectantly.
Bulk Biceps raised his eyebrow further.
Featherweight rolled the crayon in his mouth expectantly. Bulk Biceps sighed and reluctantly picked up a green crayon. Satisfied, Featherweight pulled a piece of paper in front of him and then sketched out a crude drawing, and held it up.
A butterfly.
Bulk Biceps blinked. Hopefully, Featherweight hadn’t seen him flinch.
Featherweight set the paper down and nodded encouragingly, letting Bulk Biceps know that it was his turn.
Bulk Biceps looked down at the paper blankly. He hadn’t drawn in a long time, and he had certainly never drawn a butterfly. Still, what could it hurt? He leaned down and began to draw.
Featherweight squinted as his brother drew. Something didn’t look quite right. He pushed back from his seat and flew around, checking on his brother’s progress.
He had drawn a barbell.
Featherweight facehoofed. He landed on the table and kicked another piece of paper on top of Bulk Biceps’ drawing. One more time.
Bulk Biceps shrugged. He picked up a yellow crayon and began drawing once more. Featherweight trotted back over to his side of the table, giving his brother his space. He picked up a crayon and also began drawing.
His ears pricked up as he heard his brother actually drawing this time. The sound of crayon on paper filled the house, and Featherweight grinned. It had been a good idea!
When Bulk Biceps slowed, Featherweight decided to fly over and see what he had drawn. With a quiet flutter, he flew up and
Fluttershy. His brother had drawn Fluttershy.
Featherweight snickered. He nodded encouragingly. Try again. He returned to his own side and reached for his own yellow crayon, and also began drawing.
Not wanting to be one-upped by his brother, Bulk Biceps tried again. This time, he really and truly tried to draw a butterfly.
He managed to make it through two of the wings before he shuddered, sending thick zigzag lines across his drawing. He spat the crayon out and glared at his messed up drawing before flicking a hoof and sending it fluttering to the floor.
Featherweight didn’t look up, too engrossed in his own drawing to even flick an ear. Intrigued and morbidly curious as to what he was drawing, Bulk Biceps got up and walked around the table.
It was a picture of him and Fluttershy, sitting in a tree, wings flared wide and kissing. He'd even added little blue drops falling from their mouths, results of their sloppy kissing.
He reached out for Featherweight, but the little pony was faster; he ducked under his hoof, grabbed the paper in his mouth, and darted away. Bulk Biceps took flight and chased him, but Featherweight dove through an open window. Bulk Biceps tried to follow, but his wide shoulders got stuck in the narrow window, and he hadn’t had a good enough head start to break through the wall. He struggled, but his hooves couldn’t get purchase against the floor. “Featherweight!” he called.
More of that light, breathy laughing. Bulk Biceps scowled and pulled himself back in, bringing the window frame with him like some sort of square, bulky necklace. Tonight, Featherweight was going to get it!
No, wait. Tonight it was Featherweight’s turn to make dinner.
Tomorrow night, then. Tomorrow night Featherweight would…
Wait.
He looked back over at the calendar, suddenly remembering that it had other functions besides reminding him which day was foreleg day and which was hind leg day.
Tomorrow was his date with Fluttershy.
He bent over and buried his face in his hooves. It was hopeless! He’d never overcome this fear!
Featherweight, hiding in the bushes, watched through the hole where the window had been. Half of the fun in getting a rise out of his brother was the chase part, but Bulk Biceps wasn’t doing any chasing.
In fact, it seemed as though he were trying to hold back tears.
There was only one thing to do.
Bulk Biceps looked up at the sound of a hoof scuffing against the ground. Featherweight was there, standing in front of him. He leaned in and gave Bulk Biceps a comforting hug and patted his shoulder. Surely, Fluttershy would understand.
Right?
Bulk Biceps lay reclined on the couch, looking up at the ceiling, only looking away to look at the clock, which ticked down unforgivingly to the time he was supposed to be at Fluttershy’s house.
He looked back up at the ceiling and exhaled. Even the sound of the light rain didn’t calm him, and it usually did-
Wait.
Rain?
Bulk Biceps sat up and looked out the window.
At least, he tried; but the cardboard he’d placed over the hole blocked his view. Scowling, he trotted over and lifted up the cardboard and peeked outside.
Sure enough, it was raining.
Butterflies couldn’t fly in the rain.
Bulk Biceps nearly tipped over the couch as he scrambled over. Fluttershy would be sad about that, and he would be there for her!
He flew as fast as he could above town, heading for Fluttershy’s cottage. His teeth were gritted in concentration. He had to get there!
It wasn’t long before he arrived at her cottage. As he arrived, he saw her, laying on her back out in her front lawn. At first, he thought she'd passed out, or worse.
To his surprise, though, as he approached, he saw that she was smiling.
She jumped as he approached, but then the smile came back. “The migration’s been postponed,” she said. “A pretty bad weather storm from over Las Pegasus came through and the poor butterflies wouldn’t make it.”
Bulk Biceps nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said.
Fluttershy giggled. “Don’t be,” she said, patting the ground next to her. “I've always liked the rain.”
Bulk Biceps couldn't help but smile. “Yeah. So do I,” he said, sliding down.
“Besides, the butterflies can fly again tomorrow.”
Bulk Biceps twitched, but then relaxed. That would be a problem for another day.
And together, they lay on their backs, and just enjoyed the rain in each others’ company.
Featherweight grinned as he hovered in the air, his mouth full of a cookie of Fluttershy's baking. These were really delicious. He really hoped his brother would get a move on; he wouldn’t mind having the yellow pegasus around the whole time.
But seriously. These were really good biscuits. He glanced down at the box to see if she had written the recipe somewhere; but the only label was a drawing of a rabbit…
Oh.
He glanced over towards the ground, and the rabbit angrily chattering at him and stomping his paws in between angry jumps for his tail suddenly made sense. They were animal treats.
Featherweight shrugged and then tossed one more into his mouth. Not bad.
