> Her Diamonds
>  by flyingcloudcakes
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Twilight Is A Jerky Jerk
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter One

<><3<><3<><3


Spike twitched in his sleep, unknowingly throwing his blankets around him. He was having yet another dream about a certain purple-haired seamstress.

“Oh, Spike!” Rarity exclaimed as he whirled her around and around the ballroom of the Princess in Canterlot, her magenta gown twirling around their legs, her royal purple hair flowing like silk around her heart-shaped face. “I didn’t know you could dance!”

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, babe.” Spike said, wrapping one muscular arm around her waist to keep her steady. Other couples danced around them, the women in long gowns and the men in black coattails, but Rarity was by far the loveliest guest at the soiree.

She giggled and fell against his chest, her cheek resting on his shoulder. He was quite a bit taller than her (this was a dream, after all), and wearing a satin bowtie.

“Oh, Spike, you’re so brave, and handsome. I don’t know why it took me so long to realize my feelings for you.” Rarity cooed. She threw her gloved arms around his neck, and was just leaning in for a kiss when—

“Spike! Spike! Wake up!”

Spike blinked open his eyes and found himself in his bed with his blankets twisted around his legs. He looked up into the face of his navy-haired mentor, Twilight Sparkle. She was wearing a purple sweater vest and had her half-moon reading glasses perched on top her head.

“I’ve been calling your name for approximately two point three minutes! You were mumbling Rarity's name in your sleep.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Were you having a sexual dream?”

“What!” Spike sat bolt upright, pushing his blankets off him. “No! What!”

Twilight Sparkle sighed and leaned against the wooden doorway of their shared bedroom as if she were planning to stay for a while. “It’s a perfectly normal occurrence when a male is going through changes in his body—“

“Get out!” Spike yelled, throwing his pillow at her.

She ducked out of the way, and the pillow sailed into the hall. She held up her hands in defeat. “Alright, alright, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I’ll be downstairs. We have a very busy day today.”

As soon as she was out of sight, Spike groaned and rolled over on his side. He missed his pillow already.

“Spike! Don’t go back to sleep! You have to get dressed. The girls are coming over for lunch, so we have a lot of work to do before they get here!” Twilight called up the stairs.

Spike groaned again in answer, but got out of bed anyway. He threw on jeans, a dark green shirt, and his favorite purple hoodie, and ran his fingers through his spiky green hair. “Good enough.” He shrugged, glancing in the mirror.

“Spike! I need you to take a note!”

“Coming!” Spike sighed and clumped down the stairs. It was going to be a long day.



<><3<><3<><3


Twilight Sparkle and Spike were in the library where they had been all morning, sorting the shelves. Again. They’d been sorting and unsorting and resorting and sort-sorting these damn shelves all week, and Spike was so sick of literature, like he never had been before, even after all the years he’d spent being Twilight’s helper.

He was just suppressing a yawn of boredom when the knock at the door came. He gladly jumped up from his position on the floor, surrounded by stacks of books, and ran to the front room. “I’ll get it!” He yelled, throwing open the door.

“Hey-a, Spike, boyo.” Rainbow Dash ruffled his hair and breezed past him into the library, where Twilight Sparkle was tidying up. Applejack followed soon after her, brown cowboy hat in hand.

“Howdy, Spike.” She drawled in her country accent, smiling. “Are the rest of the gals here yet?”

“Nah, just you two.” Spike told them, trying to fix his hair. “Pinkie Pie is babysitting for the Cakes today, and Fluttershy called an hour ago to say she’d be a little late. Something about a bird with a broken wing.”

“That’s Fluttershy fer ya, always tryin’ to help them little critters. Ain’t that right, Dash?” Applejack chuckled, glancing at Rainbow Dash. The rainbow-haired girl didn’t appear to be listening, seemingly engrossed in studying the names of the numerous books on the shelves.

Dash spun around very suddenly on her heel and cleared her throat loudly. “Twilight told us you had a sex dream about Rarity.” She blurted.

Spike’s eyes widened. “Twilight!” He roared, looking frantically around for his mentor. “You told them?”

Twilight flushed guiltily from across the room and came over to meet them. “Dash,” she hissed. “That wasn’t for you to share.”

Rainbow Dash shrugged, grinning. “Sorry.”

“I'm sorry, Spike.” Twilight said, looking genuinely upset. “I didn't mean to. AJ and I were talking, and it sort of slipped out." She glared at Dash. "Someone was eavesdropping on our conversation." She turned back to him. "But they're the only ones, I swear on my letters to the Princess! Fluttershy would blush harder than you, and Rarity doesn’t know, I promise, so don’t worry.”

“But it wasn’t a sex dream!” Spike protested, turning red. “It wasn’t! It was perfectly innocent! W-we might have kissed, but that’s it, I swear!”

“Sure, Spikey-Wikey, we believe you.” Rainbow Dash smirked.

“Ah think it’s cute that Spike has a little crush.” Applejack smiled at him again, but for once it felt condescending.

"Leave him alone, girls." Twilight sighed. “Spike, I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you about this. This—this crush, as AJ put it... it has got to stop. I understand that you like Rarity, and I think that's sweet, but following her around like a puppy-dog... it's just not healthy for you.”

“But I—“ Spike started.

“No, Spike.” Twilight Sparkle sighed again and took off her half-moon glasses to look at him properly. He shifted nervously under her gaze. “Spike, Rarity is twenty-one. That’s five years your elder. It’s just not appropriate for you to have feelings for her.”

“Yeah, Opal is the only pussy of Rarity’s you’ll get to see.” Rainbow Dash grinned, peering around a bookcase.

“Rainbow Dash!” Twilight Sparkle admonished, looking scandalized. Spike blushed scarlet and pulled his purple hoodie down over his eyes.

“What?” Dash shrugged, completely unapologetic. “It’s true.”

“It was still tasteless and crude.” Twilight scoffed. “Not to mention completely inappropriate!”

“’M not trying to sleep with ‘er,” Spike mumbled truthfully. Rarity was too good for that. “Just like ‘er. Sh-she’s pretty...”

“Oh, c’mon, Twi, lighten up.” Dash whined, throwing an arm around Twilight’s shoulder. “We’re all adults here.”

Twilight Sparkle carefully extracted herself from Rainbow’s grip and said, “No. We’re not. That’s the point.” She turned to Spike and pinned him with her best teacherly look. “Rarity can’t make it to lunch today, and it’s just as well. I think it might be best if you stayed away from her for a little while, until this whole thing blows over. She's been feeling a little... crowded.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Spike muttered, slumping into a chair in the corner of the library, and putting on his headphones to drown out the world:


She said, “Oh, I can’t take no more...”
Her tears like diamonds on the floor...
And her diamonds bring me down...
‘Cause I can't help her now...



<><3<><3<><3


Try as he might, Spike couldn’t follow Twilight Sparkle’s instructions. Everywhere he went, Rarity was there; when he ran errands in town, he passed her dress shop; when he hung out with his three friends Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle, it was Rarity who eventually came to pick up her younger sister.

When Twilight and the girls got together, obviously Rarity joined them, and often he was left out from activities like he hadn’t been before. It hurt him to be excluded like that over something so seemingly small, but he didn’t say anything for fear of being reprimanded.

Weeks passed and Spike grew increasingly despondent. He stopped coming downstairs at all when Twilight’s friends came over, knowing he would just be pushed away. Instead, he sat in their shared bedroom with the blinds drawn shut and his headphones blasting the same song over and over: “Her tears like diamonds on the floor...”

This just made things worse, because it was a song he’d always associated with Rarity and her love of sparkly jewels.

Fluttershy noticed his moodiness, and tried to coax him out of his pity party, but he shrugged her off the first few times, and soon she just stopped trying. She couldn’t understand what it was like for him, he reasoned, trying to make himself feel better about rejecting her comfort.

During their studies, Spike was often short with his mentor, and Twilight could tell he was angry with her. She tried to apologize once or twice, telling him, "I just don't want you to get hurt," but this only made him angrier-- she thought he had no chance with Rarity, and maybe he didn't, but couldn't he figure it out for himself? Why did she have to interfere?

It only grew worse when Rarity herself finally cornered him.

He was walking into the town square to pick up the groceries when he saw her across the street. He pulled his purple hoodie over his eyes, spun around, and walked fast in the other direction, trying to get away from her, but it was no use. She spotted him right away.

“Oh, Spike, darling, so good to see you!” She called, crossing over. “Whatever brings you into town?”

“Shopping. F-for Twilight.” He mumbled, shoving his hands into his jean pockets and looking at the ground.

“Oh.” She said, taking off her diamond-studded sunglasses to peer at him closely. She was dressed in a strapless white sundress that flowed around her knees, and a matching sunhat. The dress had tiny purple diamonds lining the bodice, and he had to carefully extract his eyes from her plunging neckline.

“Spike,” she said suddenly. “I feel like you’ve been avoiding me. Have I done something wrong?”

“Wha—“ Spike looked up and pushed his hoodie back, surprised. “N-no! No, I- I mean... you could never do anything wrong, Rarity. You’re too perfect! Um!” He blushed. “I-I’ve just been... busy.” He finished lamely.

“I see.” She said, but her voice was a little reproachful, as though she didn’t quite believe him. “Well. I was actually just on my way to visit Twilight. I suppose I’ll see you at the house later?”

“Uh, y-yeah.” He called shakily after her, as she put on her sunglasses and began to walk away. “Sure! See you later!”

He doubted it.
> Invisible Cake
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter Two



<><3<><3<><3


“I just, I really like her, this... this girl, but she doesn’t notice me. Twilight doesn’t seem to think I should be so hung up on her, but I can’t help it.” Spike flopped onto his back and let out a heavy sigh. “She just gets into my head.”

He and Apple Bloom were on the floor of the Cutie Mark Crusader Clubhouse, which they were now much too big for. They had to hunch over just to sit comfortably. Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle were busy, so it was just the two of them and a pitcher of lemonade.

Apple Bloom raised her eyebrows and pushed back her long ginger ponytail. She’d ditched the big pink bow in middle school, (Spike sort of missed it, though he’d never admit it) but she still wore faded blue overalls over a white blouse.

“Look, Spike, yer mah friend, so I’m gonna be honest with ya. If this gal doesn’t realize what a great guy ya are, she ain’t worth it.”

“She’s worth it!” Spike insisted, always ready to defend his crush. “She’s sweet, and generous, and smart, and she has... grace. She’s perfect! But I’m just... me. She’d never like me anyway. I don't know why I even bother!”

Apple Bloom reached out and slapped him hard on the arm. Her hands were rough.

“Ow!” He cried, rubbing the pink mark she’d left on his skin. “What’d you do that for?”

His friend stared hard at him, her lips pursed and her eyebrows drawn together. He’d never noticed how orangey-brown her eyes were. Sort of like caramel. He wondered how he’d known her for years and never noticed that her eyes were the color of candy.

After a long while, she shook her head at him, seeming to have come to some conclusion. “Yer an idiot.” She said firmly, swinging her long legs over the open side of the tree house and jumping to the ground.

“Where’re you going?” Spike called after her.

She didn’t stop, but instead called over her shoulder, “I said I’d help Big Mac with fixin’ our wagon. I was s’pposed be home ages ago.”

Spike watched her walk away. They’d been up in the clubhouse for over two hours, and she hadn’t once said anything about a prior engagement. He wondered if she was making it up. What had he said to offend her? He had no idea.

He shrugged and climbed out of the clubhouse. It was no fun sitting up here by himself, but he didn’t want to go home to Twilight when she was being such an unreasonable jerk about this whole thing.

None of the other Crusaders were free today (and now it turns out Apple Bloom hadn’t been, either), so he couldn’t go see any of them. He wondered what Pinkie Pie was doing down at Sugarcube Corner. He felt like he hadn’t seen her in a very long time, and she was sure to lift his mood. Maybe he could help her bake a pie or something. Or, maybe, if he was lucky, she was throwing a party!

Excited by this new prospect, Spike walked through town to Sugarcube Corner. The ‘Open’ sign was on the door, so he went right in. Mrs. Cake, a short, plump lady with a mass of curling hair pinned back onto her head, greeted him with a smile at the front counter.

“Why, hello, Spike. What brings you here today?”

“Uh, is Pinkie here?” He asked, pushing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “I was wondering if I could help her with anything.”

“Oh, that’s mighty sweet of you. She’s just in the kitchen. She’s doing a very special order today. Why don’t you go on back? I’m sure she’d appreciate the offer.”

“Okay, thanks, Mrs. Cake.” Spike gave her a small wave and went through the door marked ‘Staff’ into the kitchen.

Pinkie Pie was hunched over something on the counter, her wild, bright pink curls pushed back into a messy ponytail and barely being held in place by a hairnet. She seemed to be icing something. Spike couldn’t see the design, but he was sure it would be magnificent.

“Hi, Pinkie!” He chirped. She looked up, and when she saw him, her face lit up into a huge smile.

“Hiya, Spike! I didn’t know you were coming over here! It’s so, so, so, sooooo good to see you!” She exclaimed in her usual loud, happy voice.

He smiled back and looked around the kitchen. Flour and eggshells covered every available surface, and even some of the floor. Baking utensils and mixing bowls lay scattered everywhere, all used. It looked like one hell of a mess, but no matter where he looked, he didn’t see the giant cake he was expecting to.

“What are you making, Pinkie?” He asked, puzzled. “This place is a wreck, but where’s the order?”

Pinkie beamed and bounded up to him. “That’s it, you see! Or, actually, you don’t see!” She giggled. Spike didn’t understand.

“I’ve been working hard, hard, hard alllll morning long to make this very special order, ordered special! And there’s a secret to this cake!!” The pink-haired girl was practically shaking with excitement. “It’s invisible!!!” She yelled, spinning him around and jumping up and down.

“What?” He asked, astonished. An invisible cake! “Really?”

“Heehee, no, silly!” Pinkie giggled, releasing him from their incessant spinning. “Gotcha! It’s just so big I had to put it around back.”

“Oh,” said Spike, disappointed. An invisible cake would have been so cool.

“Aw, don’t worry, Spikey, it’s still the biggest, prettiest, coolest, bestest, most awesomest fantastic sugary cake creation you’ll ever see in the whole wide world! In the whole universe, even!” Pinkie grinned. “Lemme show you!”

She dragged him over to the back door by the sleeve of his hoodie and pushed it open. There, in the yard, was a towering cake covered in lilac frosting and tiny pink flowers, with tier after tier of beautiful, sugary delight. Spike’s mouth watered at the sight.

“Ain’t she a beauty?” Pinkie asked, pleased.

“Oh, yeah. Wow. You’ve really outdone yourself this time, Pinkie! Hey, who’s this for, anyway?”

“Oh, some fancy Canterlot elite ordered it for a party. And you know how I love, love, love parties!” She shooed away a squirrel from one side of the cake.

“A Canterlot party?” Spike murmured, awed. He wondered if it would be like his dream, with violins and champagne in tiny glasses and twinkling lights in the garden... He wondered if Rarity was making dresses for any of the guests.

“Yes, Sir E Bob! I’m transporting it there tomorrow. Only I can be trusted to get such a big order to Canterlot!” Pinkie said proudly, puffing out her chest and marching back inside the bakery like a solider.

After a moment, she peeked her head out again and said, “I never asked why you were here, Spike! I’m so silly, that’s me, Silly Will! Oh wait, my name is Pinkie Pie, oops!”

Spike laughed. “I came over to see if you needed any help.”

“OH!” She exclaimed. “That’s so, so, sooo nice of you, Spike, but Mr. Cake ‘specifically said I had to do this order alone.”

Her face darkened, and she adopted a low, dramatic tone of voice. “Like the lone ranger out on the prairies, like a superhero fighting crime, like a hero going on an epic journey to find herself, I must do this on my own...” She grinned at him, and was back to her bubbly, cheerful self. “I’m sorry! Thanks anyway, though!”

“Oh,” said Spike, trying not to show how crestfallen he was. “Okay. That’s fine. Have... fun, I guess. Bye.” He waved and she shut the door behind her, going back to her cake.

He loitered around on the sidewalk for a moment, kicking up a few pebbles with the toe of his shoe. He supposed he would have to go home now. There wasn’t much else he could do.

Unless...

He knew it was against Twilight’s orders, but... Well, screw her. She was kind of being a bitch.

He started walking. Soon, he was in front of Rarity’s dressmaking shop. The purple doors were open, inviting him inside like old friends. He looked around furtively, hoping no one would see him, and then realized what he was doing and stopped. There wasn’t anything wrong with visiting Rarity. She was his friend, too, wasn’t she?

Suddenly defensive, he walked into the shop. It was quiet. Toooo quiet... Spike thought, smiling to himself at the cliché.

“Rarity?” He called, peering around.

Examples of Rarity’s previous fashion orders were lined up on the walls. The fashionista herself modeled each outfit with perfect style and grace: a sharp, business-like blue pencil skirt paired with a ruffled white shirt in one picture; a stunning golden evening gown in another; and the last, his favorite by far, a zebra-striped bikini and big, black sunglasses.

“I’ll be with you in just a moment.” Rarity’s voice called out from somewhere in the back. “Feel free to pour yourself a drink.”

A drink? In answer to his question, Spike spotted a table set up with coffee and tea in the corner. He thought that was a bit impractical. What if a costumer spilt their beverage on one of her designs? But then again, it most likely wouldn’t be a problem. Rarity was always prepared for everything.

“Oh, Spike, hello!” Rarity exclaimed, coming out from the back room. She smoothed her hands on her bright pink skirt, which – Spike noted with glee and trepidation – was quite short. “Is Twilight with you?”

“Um, no, just me.” He said, suddenly nervous. “Is that alright?”

“Well, of course it is!” Rarity laughed. Her laugh was beautiful: clear and light and friendly, but with a touch of something affected and proud, like she knew just how stunning everything about her was. “Is something the matter, dear? You seem a bit jittery.”

“Nope, no, not me, everything’s... fine.” He cleared his throat, cursing himself for sounding so stupid. He always seemed to do that around her. He must look like a fool.

“Alright, then.” She said, smiling at him brightly. “So what brings you to ma maison de couture on this fine morning?”

“Your what?” Spike asked, scrunching up his nose in confusion.

Rarity laughed again. “My shop, Spike.”

“Ooooh, gotcha.” He smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. Uh, I was just, you know, around, so I thought I’d drop by, and just, like, say hi. So... hi.” He gave a small wave and cringed internally at his pathetic-ness.

“Hi.” Rarity said, looking nonplussed and slightly amused at him. “Anything else?”

“No, I think that’s it.” Spike said, but still he lingered, twisting and untwisting the hem of his purple hoodie in his fingers. He didn’t want to leave yet. He’d only just gotten here!

Rarity looked at him for a moment, as though waiting for something more, but Spike said nothing, so she asked, “I know it’s a bit late, but... would you like to stay for lunch?”

“Yes!” Spike said immediately, relieved. “Yes. Lunch would be nice. I’d like that.”

“Wonderful.” Rarity nodded and went to the front, her heels clicking softly on the tile. She turned the sign in the window to ‘Closed,’ and shut the double doors. She spun on her heel, pinning him with a bright smile. “Tea?”

> Letters to the Princess
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter Three

<><3<><3<><3


“Pass the salt, will you, please?” Rarity asked politely, smiling at him from across the white oak table. They were eating lunch in her dinning room in the upper level of her boutique, where she lived and worked. The table was set with the finest china teacups and plates, and Spike felt a little out of place in such stylish quarters.

He reached over with the salt – the container was shaped like a budding flower, something he’d never seen before – and as he did, some of it spilled.

“Oh, no, that just won’t do!” Rarity exclaimed. “Throw some over your left shoulder, or you’ll have bad luck.”

Spike did as he was told, following her superstition, but all the while he was thinking, how could I possibly have bad luck? I’m having lunch with you. That’s got to be the best luck in the world!

Rarity smiled. “I’m so glad you’re joining me for lunch, Spike. It’s so rare that we spend any time together.”

“Oh.” Spike said, suddenly feeling guilty and overjoyed at the same time. She wants to spend time with me! “Well, I could drop by more often. You must need some help around here, sometimes, right? You have so many costumers. But you probably have it all under control, I mean, you’re so organized.”

“Oh, how you flatter me!” Rarity laughed. “I’m really not all that, but thank you. I do need help sometimes. In fact... I think tomorrow I could use an extra pair of hands.” She raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “If you’re willing, that is.”

“Yes.” Spike said immediately.

“But you don’t even know what it is yet!” Rarity said, surprised but pleased.

“Oh, right,” Spike mumbled, blushing hard. He looked down at his hands, which were nervously tearing tiny threads out of the bottom of his shirt. “Well, um, what is it, then?”

“I’m sewing quite a lot of dresses tomorrow afternoon, and I’ve already done the first two, but it’s a large order. Do you think you could assist me?”

“Sure, of course!” Spike beamed at her. “I’d love to help you, Rarity.”

She smiled back. Spike couldn’t help but think how sophisticated and beautiful she looked smiling at him. “Fantastic. Come by around, say, noon?”

He nodded, and they went back to eating in silence.


<><3<><3<><3


Later, in his favorite chair in the corner of the library, Spike was thinking about Rarity, as he often did. He wondered if going to her dress shop today was the right thing to do. Sure, he liked her, really, really liked her, but maybe, just maybe –and here it hurt him to admit – Twilight was onto something. He did sort of hang on her every word.

Twi would be pretty angry if she knew I had lunch with her today, he thought. Screw what Twi would be, he thought. I don’t mean that, he thought. Yes I do, he thought. He sighed and put his head in his hands.

Just then – speak of the devil – Twilight Sparkle walked downstairs. She glanced at him for a long moment, thinking he wouldn’t notice, and then deemed him sufficiently approachable.

“Spike, can you take a note?” She asked, pulling her hair back.

Spike shrugged, frowning, still angry at her, but got out a piece of paper anyway. He poised his quill over the top right corner of the paper and looked up expectantly.

“Begin, ‘My dear Princess Celestia,’” Twilight cleared her throat. “’This week I learned a very important lesson about friendship and its boundaries.’”

Spike wrote furiously, mouthing the words a step behind his mentor.

“Continue, ‘I have learned that interfering in other people’s lives, even if your intentions are good, is wrong.’”

Spike looked up, startled, but beginning to understand.

Twilight gave him a small, apologetic smile. “’If you try to stop something from happening, it will hurt the people involved more than if you left it alone. Meddling in other’s affairs never goes well. You should let your friends make their own decisions. They usually know what’s best for them. Sincerely, your faithful student, Twilight Sparkle.’”

Spike finished writing, and threw the letter into the special fireplace, where it burst into green flame and flew up the chimney, on its way to the Princess.

Twilight turned to him, guilt in her eyes. “Spike, I’m sorry I ever tried to keep you away from Rarity. I was too harsh, and, though it pains me to admit it, I was... wrong. I still don’t approve, mind you, but I never meant to hurt you.” She laughed nervously. “I meant to do the opposite, actually.”

Spike sighed. “I know you were trying to do the right thing, but...” He scrunched up his nose. “Why did you have to be such a psycho about it?”

“Hey!” Twilight exclaimed, frowning. “Maybe it was a little crazy, but I was trying to help." Her face softened. "Can you forgive me?”

Spike held his chin in his hands for a long moment, as though deep in thought. Then he sighed again. “Yeah. Of course, I forgive you. We’re family.”

“Good.” Twilight smiled and reached out to ruffle his hair affectionately.

“Just don’t ever do that again, it was totally uncalled for!”

“Agreed.” She nodded shortly.

“So does this mean I can see Rarity again?” Spike chirped.

Twilight rolled her eyes. “You just completely missed the point of all of this, didn’t you? But whatever, it’s your life. Follow her like a lost puppy if you want to.”

Spike beamed, and then spoke all in a rush. “Good, because I had lunch with her today and she asked me to help her sew some dresses tomorrow. I sort of already said yes.”

“Spike!” Twilight looked surprised, and then she recovered because, really, she shouldn’t have been. “Do you even know how to sew?”

“Nope!” Spike said cheerily, looking around. “But...” He found was he was looking for on the shelf and grabbed a book entitled, Everything You Need To Know About Knitting, Sewing, and Dressmaking. “I can learn!”

He ran up the stairs, book under his arm, fully prepared to spend the night reading in his bed.

“Just so you're aware,” Twilight called up the stairs after him, “that title is inaccurate! They don’t actually tell you everything you need to know until Volume Three!”
> A Most Peculiar Teaparty
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter Four

<><3<><3<><3


“Pass the salt, will you, please?” Rarity asked, smiling at him across a long, ornately carved wooden table that looked as though Discord himself had arranged it. China teacups lay scattered and shattered everywhere, tea dripping out of them and into saucers or onto plates.

Wait. That wasn’t right. Spike glanced around. They were sitting in the middle of a dense forest, and all the trees had very scary faces and long, gnarled limbs. He had a vague, misplaced sense that Pinkie Pie should be singing about giggling at ghosties, but he didn’t know why.

Rarity was grinning broadly, almost disturbingly, at him from under a very large, very elaborate hat covered in feathers and sparkling jewels and patchwork flaps and other oddities.

Spike looked down. He was wearing a blue dress with a white apron over it, and tiny black shoes.

“Oh, shit.” He said, because it seemed the appropriate thing to say.

“More tea, darling?” Rarity asked, suddenly beside him with a pitcher of cold lemonade, one of her long, lithe arms curling around his shoulders. His heart beat loudly in his chest.

“No, thank you. That’s lemonade.” He pointed out as politely as possible, struggling to form words with her so close.

“Do you like my hat?” She whispered into his ear, her breath warm. “I designed it myself. I made it with you in mind. I know how much you like diamonds.”

“Do I?” Spike asked nervously, thinking, only because you like them.

“Yes, you do.” Rarity assured him. The pitcher of lemonade had vanished. She stood straight up and called into the forest, “Hare! More tea at once!”

Fluttershy appeared in a short white dress, wearing floppy bunny ears and a round fluffy tail. She was carrying a tray full of teacups that looked quite unsteady. “Here you go, oh, I’m so very sorry it took so long.” She said softly.

She set it down on the table and then glanced at her bare wrist, horror on her face. “Oh my!” She squeaked. “I’m late, oh, no, I’m very late for a very important date! Oh, I hope I don’t keep her waiting! She does like to do things fast... I hope she likes my outfit... Do excuse me, please, I apologize!” She hurried off, bounding into the forest.

Rarity took off her hat and dumped one of the teacups into it. She started to sing, but her voice came out a man’s, deep and whining. “’Oh, what the hell,’ she says, ‘I just can’t win for losing.’ And she lays back down! Man, there’s so many times I don’t know what I’m doing! Like I don’t know now!”

Spike recognized that song, and that voice. It was one of his favorites. This was getting stranger by the moment. “What’s going on here?” Spike asked, very confused. By now he was seeing some sort of pattern.

“Well,” said a quiet, calm voice by his ear. “It’s really very simple. I read it in a book.”

He twisted his head and saw, sitting on his shoulder, a fat striped caterpillar in varying shades of blue and purple. It was wearing half-moon glasses and smoking a pipe. He groaned. “Twilight? You’re here too?”

Twilight Sparkle the caterpillar harrumphed. “I needn’t be, if you’re offended by my presence. I was just going to try to explain dream state to you, but very well, you obviously don’t need my help.” Quite offended, she slithered off his shoulder and into a teapot, where she promptly drowned.

“More tea?” Rarity asked brightly, completely undisturbed by this new development. In fact, it seemed she hadn’t even noticed.

“No, thank you.” Spike said firmly. But she looked so crestfallen that he relented a moment later, and let her pour him another cup.

He suddenly heard a loud yawn from the table. He looked down to see a tiny, corn yellow mouse sleeping soundly in a teacup to his left. It was wearing a large pink bow.

“...Apple Bloom?” He ventured hesitantly.

The dormouse’s ears twitched, and she opened her eyes – they were the distinct caramel color he’d noticed only recently – to watch him lazily. He reached out a hand to pet her (she looked very soft). She yawned again and sniffed his hand for a moment before falling asleep again. “Er. Have a nice rest.”

“Ah’m not tardy, am I?” Applejack asked, peering around a tree. She, at least, seemed to be dressed normally, in her cowboy boots and hat.

“Applejaaack!” Rarity exclaimed, looking a bit disappointed. “No, you’re not late.” Under her breath, she muttered, “Not nearly late enough, anyway.” She turned to smile brightly at the cowgirl, though Spike could tell it was forced. “I was just having tea with Alice— Spike! I mean Spike.”

“Horsefeathers!” Applejack cursed, twisting her shirt in her hands. “Ah think Ah’m in the wrong dream, actually... I was lookin’ for Granny Smith, she was s’pposed to be leavin’ me Sweet Apple Acres in her will.”

“Next door on your right.” Rarity said, clearly glad to see her go. AJ tipped her hat and disappeared.

Can this get any weirder? Spike wondered, and then it did, because Opal landed in his lap with the biggest grin he’d ever seen, stretching across her whole face, and proceeded to tear apart his dress.

“Oh, no, that just won’t do!” Rarity clucked her tongue disapprovingly and shooed Opal away from him. She spun his chair around and produced a sewing kit out of nowhere. She took the needle to the bottom of the dress and went to work.

Soon, long, flowing lengths of baby blue fabric were coming from her hands and swirling around them and he couldn’t breath for all the fabric in front of his face, blocking his nose. He gasped for breath and tried to tell her to stop, but she just kept going and the fabric kept coming.

He reached out for Rarity’s hand, trying to save her, trying to save himself, but he was drowning in fabric and there was nothing he could do for either of them...

Spike jolted awake. He looked around in the dark, disoriented for a moment, before his eyes adjusted and he recognized Twilight’s sleeping form across the room. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“Just a dream.” He muttered to himself. “Shouldn’t’ve read those sewing books...” He spotted the offending objects next to his bed, and glared at them. “’S your fault, you damn books.”

They didn’t reply, just sat there in the dark, mockingly.

Spike growled at them, and turned over. But try as he might, he couldn’t sleep. Instead, he took out his headphones and turned on a song that always seemed to fit his mood. He hummed along quietly, trying not to wake Twilight.


“She shuts out the night,
Tries to close her eyes.
If she can find daylight,
Then she’ll be alright, she’ll be alright.
Just not tonight.”

<><3<><3<><3


Around noon, Spike walked over to Rarity’s dress shop.

"Spike!" She exclaimed when she opened the door, sounding absolutely horrified. "Oh, darling, you have shadows under your eyes! Whatever's happened?"

Spike blinked at her, wondering if it was really that visible, and if he looked okay. "I couldn't sleep last night, I guess. No biggie. I can still–" He yawned. "...help you."

"Oh, no, no, no, no!" Rarity said, pulling him inside. "You must get some rest. You're here already, and I can't possibly send you all the way back home! You can use my bedroom."

Sleep in Rarity's bedroom? Spike's heart jumped into his throat. I get to see her bedroom! ...Is it creepy that I'm excited about that? ...Yeeeaaah, that's probably creepy. He forced away his thoughts and followed her up the stairs, trying not to stare at her bum.

She opened the door to her bedroom. It was very purple, Spike noticed, but a lot of things about Rarity were purple: her hair, many of her clothes, the plush carpets in her hallways... He'd decided he liked purple a long time ago.

"Here, you just lay down, and I'll make sure no one disturbs you." Rarity said, plumping the pillows on the bed. Spike felt a little uncomfortable about using her room, but she was being so nice and thoughtful, like always, and he didn't want to reject her kindness.

"Thank you, Rarity, this is very nice of you." He said. The bed did look pretty comfortable, and he was very tired... "Sorry about all this. I can still help you with the dresses later if you want me to."

Rarity smiled and shook her head as he kicked off his shoes and climbed in. "That's quite alright, Spike, you just get some sleep. I'm sure it'll be much quieter here than at Twilight's, with her rushing around with those books. I'll just shut the door behind me, and be back to check on you later."

She left the room, shutting the door as promised, and leaving Spike in her very purple bedroom in her very purple bed, where he was sure he wouldn't get any rest at all, thinking about all the implications this was sure to have. He was in her bed for Celestia's sake! Granted, she wasn't actually in it with him, but that was a technicality.

I can't tell Twilight about this, he thought, and then he fell asleep.
> ...And Then He Woke Up, And It Was All A Dream
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter Five

<><3<><3<><3


Spike awoke in an unfamiliar room, and panicked. Then he remembered where he was, and panicked.

I’m in Rarity’s bedroom! He let out a tiny squeak, and then managed to control himself. Okay, okay, calm down, Spike. Be logical. Find Rarity. Downstairs? Probably. Okay, legs, over side of bed—feet, firmly on floor. Take a step.

...Or you could fall. Okay. Falling is something. We’re making progress here! Good job, team!

Spike eventually made it out of the room, down the hall, and to the top of the stairs, still feeling disoriented and out of his element. But at least he’d gotten some sleep, right? He felt more rested than he had. He wondered what time it was.

He found Rarity in her workshop, surrounded by swatches of blue fabric that looked disturbingly similar to the ones in his dream the night before. She looked up when he walked in, her red glasses perched on her nose.

“Oh, Spike, you’re awake! Did you have a good rest?” She smiled, put down her needle and thread, and turned to look at him properly.

He smiled back sheepishly. “Uh, yeah. Thanks again.” He mumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I hope it wasn’t any trouble.”

“It’s no trouble at all, darling! I was so worried about you!” She shook her head. “You should really be more careful. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt running around while you were so tired.”

“You were... worried about me?” He blinked, surprised, not quite sure he was hearing her right.

“Well, of course I was!” She scoffed. “I care about you, Spike.”

“I care about you, Spike.”

She... she cares about me? Spike’s heart jumped into his throat. She cares about me!  He couldn’t stop the broad, toothy grin from spreading over his face. “You do?”

“Well—well, yes.” Pink spread across Rarity’s cheeks.

It might have been his imagination, but... that looked like... was she... blushing? She was! She was blushing! It looked good on her. But then, everything looked good on her. “Oh,” said Spike, still grinning a little bit, because he couldn’t quite believe it. “I care about you, too.”

Rarity blushed harder, and cleared her throat, not meeting his eyes. “Er-hem, right, well, yes. I should... work on these dresses.”

“I’ll help you.” Spike said, sitting down across from her and picking up one of the almost-finished dresses. He could see where they needed to be stitched together, and he was just praying to Celestia that he’d do it right the first time.

“Oh. Thank you.” Rarity said, turning back to her fabric swatches. “There should be an extra needle and thread somewhere around here.”

Spike found it, and they set to work in silence for the next hour. All the while, Spike’s heart beat out a mantra: She cares—about me! She cares—about me!

When he next looked up, he could see through the window it was getting dark. “Hey, Rarity, I think maybe I should take off. Twilight’s probably wondering where I am...” He trailed off hesitantly. He didn’t really want to go. Not when things had just been getting interesting.

Rarity looked up from her own work, and nodded. “That’s perfectly alright, I understand. Thank you so much for your help. I greatly appreciate it.”

Spike pushed back his chair and went to the door, but didn’t leave quite yet. Instead, he turned around, fumbling with his sweatshirt. “Um, do you think I could... maybe, I don’t know, come back tomorrow? To help again? I-If you don’t mind...”

The corners of Rarity’s mouth tugged upwards gently, and her eyes lit up. “Yes. I would like that very much, Spike.”

He grinned back, a grin full of raw relief, his heart soaring. “Cool, cool. So... see you tomorrow, I guess. Um. Bye.”

“Goodbye, Spike.” Rarity’s sweet voice, slightly amused, followed him on his way out, and all the way home her words ran on repeat in his head:

“I care about you...”

He waited until he was out of sight of Carousel Boutique to start skipping. He couldn’t help wondering briefly if he was still dreaming.
> Concentration
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter Six

<><3<><3<><3


After that first time, helping Rarity in her dress shop became a weekly occurrence for Spike. Whenever he had any free time, he would walk over to Carousel Boutique with his headphones and his hoodie. Whether he was sewing the same dress over and over, or scouring the shelves for more silk ribbon, or even just making the coffee, he was there.

(Twilight Sparkle was not available for comment, and, though she noted his comings and goings with growing unease – wondering if maybe she had been right, after all, to try to prevent this before it started – she didn’t stop him. He was grateful.)

It was tedious work, being Rarity’s errand boy, but when he came through, he would be rewarded with a kind smile, or a ruffle of his hair, and, once – when she was really desperate to complete an order and she’d run out of dye, and he had to go all the way to Zecora for more – her arms thrown around his neck. And that would be enough to keep him showing up the next time, and the time after that.

But the more time he spent in Rarity’s company, the more he got to thinking that, maybe, even if she didn’t smile at him that way every time, even if sometimes she forgot, he would still keep coming back, just because he maybe-possibly-sort-of-kind-of-seriously-really loved her.

“Spike, darling, could you pass me that pattern? The one to your left, with the swirls on the bodice.”

Spike found it (despite not knowing what the Discord a bodice was) and handed it over. He tried not to let his hand linger too long near hers when their fingers brushed accidentally. He didn’t want to stretch his boundaries.

“Thank you.” Rarity smiled that smile at him (the one where the corners of her pink mouth curled up just so, and the teasing hint of white teeth, and her eyes shining, and him, melting a little). Then it was gone, and she was back to work, lost in her sketches and measurements, like always.

Or so he thought, until he felt her eyes watching him across the room. He had his own little space, with his music turned down enough to hear when she needed something and a tiny corner of a free desk where he could do his own work (assigned by Twilight, his reading went slowly and his notes resembled a mad scientist’s equation-crammed scrawl).

He looked up, surprised to find her eyes trained on him, and not her patterns. “What? Do I have something on my face?” He asked.

Rarity pressed the end of her pen to her lips. (She would have bitten it, but Rarity didn’t bite pens, Spike had learned, because she thought it was unsavory. He didn’t tell her about the pencils he’d chewed all through his earlier school years.) “You would look good in a suit.”

“What?” He blinked at her, shocked, putting down his own pen. “A suit?” He considered it for a moment. If Rarity thought it was a good idea, maybe he shouldn’t be so quick to reject it. Rarity was usually right. “You really think so?”

“Mm-hm.” Rarity smiled at him, different this time, almost coy, sizing him up (her Idea smile). “Black jacket and pants, hm, maybe a green tie to bring out your eyes. They’re jade, very pretty color...”

“Really?” He blushed. She likes my eyes!

“What? Oh, yes, they are.” She was mostly talking to herself by now, staring off into the distance, no doubt planning his new outfit. “I’ll have to find some comfortable material for it, something that won’t wrinkle easily, because I assume you don’t own a trouser press...”

“No, sorry.” Spike said, wondering what he would even do with a trouser press; he only wore jeans.

Rarity shook her head, and flashed him a fond look that threw him a little. “Of course you don’t, darling.”

“I can, um, do I need to buy one?” He asked, unsure, eager to please.

Her eyes were still a little distant, like she wasn’t totally in the room with him, but she answered with a tinkling laugh. “No, no, no need for that. I’ll figure it out. I’ll need to take some measurements...”

Measurements! Does that mean what I think it means? Spike tried not to think of her long, thin, graceful fingers tracing the collar of his shirt or (Celestia forbid; he wouldn’t be able to control himself) the shape of his waist. Rarity’s arms around him, Rarity’s hands all over him, Rarity’s... oh, Luna.

He swallowed nervously. “M-measurements?” His voice came out as a squeak.

“Of course.” She said, doing a double take, her mouth quirking into a smirk. “Why, dear, are you frightened of yellow tape?”

Spike forced his voice to go back to normal. “N-no. Um. Measurements are fine.”

“Lovely.” She glanced at her desk, where the clock (antique, silver, previously her mother’s, he'd obviously spent too much time here) showed it was getting late. “Next time, though, I’m afraid. You should be going.”

“Right.” Spike mumbled, gathering his things. Rarity walked him to the front doors of the shop and saw him out.

“Thank you for helping today. Again.” She smiled. (That smile!)

“No problem.” He said, watching her lean against the doorframe and, as per usual, not wanting to leave. “Same time tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here.” Rarity replied, raising an eyebrow, her long, manicured fingernails tapping out a rhythm against the wood.

“I know.” Spike whispered, giving her a smile, so many words going unspoken as he turned away.

You’ll be here. And so will I, Rarity. For you, I’ll always be here.

He imagined her sitting in at her desk all night, charting out his suit with her glasses perched on her nose, Opalesence rubbing against her legs and her not even noticing, so wrapped up in her work, her only thought of the next project, the next fashion—how quintessentially Rarity that would be. He smiled, and his shoes kicked up dust.

She’d never give one thought to me if it wasn’t my suit she was making, he thought sadly, but it was a bittersweet sort of sad, and that was okay.

He'd let her have her fantasies, even if he didn’t need a suit. He liked making her happy.


She sits down and stares into the distance
And it takes all night
And I know I could break her concentration
But it don't feel right...

> Surprises
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter Seven

<><3<><3<><3


Twilight Sparkle was waiting for him when he walked downstairs the next morning. She was sitting in the kitchen with her notebook open on the table and her half-moon glasses sliding off her nose.

She watched him silently as he trudged into the room, still in his pajamas (it was only eight o’clock, he reasoned. No need to get dressed yet.)

She watched him yawn and rub his eyes and glance around the kitchen like he’d forgotten why he’d come down here in the first place.

She watched as he opened the fridge, got out the milk, and drank straight from the carton (mostly just to spite her). And then she’d had enough.

“Spike, that is positively disgusting, you’re spreading germs. Put that down right now!” She scolded.

Spike put the milk down on the table, next to her notebook. He tried to see what she was writing in there, but she snapped it shut before he could. “Sorry, Twi.” He muttered, even though he wasn’t, actually. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m conducting important research.” She narrowed her eyes. “On moody adolescents, and why they insist on ignoring good advice given to them by their friends.”

Spike sighed, and ran his fingers through his spiky green hair. “Why exactly are you mad at me, Twi? Because I’m trying to help Rarity out?”

“No.” Twilight scoffed. “I think you’re getting too close to her. You’re bound to get hurt when she realizes you’re not doing this just because you’re nice. If she finds out you have this... this crush on her, she’s not going to like it.”

“You could’ve said.” Spike growled. “At any point in the last week, you could’ve said, ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go to Rarity’s today.’”

“Would it have made any difference?” Twilight asked.

Spike thought for a moment, chin in his hands. He thought of Rarity’s smile, and her purple hair, and her fingernails tapping against the wood as she watched him walk away.

“No.” He said.


<><3<><3<><3


“Spike!” Rarity said, opening the door. “Fantastic! It took me a while, but I’ve found a material for your suit. We can do measurements now, if you like.”

“O-okay.” Spike said nervously, following her inside the boutique.

“Stand just there, I’ll get the tape.” Rarity said, pointing him towards the three full-length mirrors that hung on the wall.

Spike stepped up onto the raised platform and stared at his reflection. Dark green hair that stuck up all over, green eyes (“They’re jade, really”), and eyelashes that were too long. Narrow framed body, tall for his age (which wasn’t saying much), skinny wrists. He scowled at his reflection.

Rarity’s heels clicked on the floor behind him. He watched as she came back into the room, her hips swaying as she walked, tape measure in hand.

She pushed a purple curl out of her eyes and smiled. “Arms out, please.”

Spike held up his arms. Rarity moved around him for the next few minutes, taking measurements and writing numbers down in perfect, curling script. (Spike had no idea how numbers could be pretty, but they were when Rarity wrote them.) He worked through Twilight’s math lessons from earlier in the week, in his head, to distract himself.

Expect for the moment when she took his waist measurement (Spike swallowed hard and tried desperately to remember what the Pythagorean theorem was. One side of the triangle is A, one side is... is... isthatherhandonmyhip what comes after A?), it passed without incident, and they were back to their normal ‘I’ll-fetch-the-coffee-you-start-the-paperwork’ routine.

Spike watched Rarity silently from across the room as she sketched designs and calculated prices (a lot of math going on around here today, he noticed). She sat sideways in her desk chair, her long (perfect) legs crossed neatly and pointing out towards him. She wore another of those pencil skirts, the ones that were so modern and workingwoman and stopped just above her knee, and a black belt with a big buckle. Spike didn’t know fashion like she did, (and he was biased) but she looked good. (She looked good in everything.)

His eyes followed the curve of her (perfect) knee down to her black pumps, out of which peeked purple toenails. He wondered how the hell she walked in those, but imagining her walking in them led to imagining her falling, and him catching her in his arms.

He made a soft growling noise in his throat (actually, he wanted to scream, but he doubted he could get away with it) and turned away. This was torture. Honestly, maybe Twilight was right. He was just getting hurt here, because Luna, all he wanted to do right now was get up out of his seat and walk over to Rarity and kiss her, so she could tell exactly how much he loved every little thing about her.

Suddenly, she looked up and met his eyes. He blushed, embarrassed at being caught. She just smiled. (What in Celestia’s name does that mean?)

“Spike, could you come over here for a second?” Rarity asked, spinning her chair so her legs were hidden under her desk.

Hey! I was admiring those... Spike walked over to her desk and looked over her shoulder at the color chart in front of her (a checkerboard of blues and greens).

“Which do you like best?” Rarity asked softly. “For your suit.”

Spike’s eyebrows furrowed. His tongue poked out of the side of his mouth as his gaze flitted from color to color. He couldn’t decide. The Emerald #3 was nice, but so was the Midnight River.

“Don’t think so hard, dear, you’ll hurt yourself.” Rarity laughed under her breath, watching his face.

He turned his head, and there she was, her face just inches from his, closer to her than he’d ever been. So close he could feel her warm breath on his cheek, could see the intense color of her eyes, the bluest blue he’d ever known. Her eyes were so blue it made him realize how disappointed he was in the sky.

“So?” Rarity breathed.

“So.” He murmured, uncomprehending, caught in watching the flutter of her long eyelashes.

“So which color, Spike?” The corners of Rarity’s perfect, pink mouth quirked up in amusement.

“Um. The... pretty... one?”

“You’re such a goof.” Rarity whispered.

I’m a goof? Is that a bad thing? Why are we whispering? Please kiss me.

He was fairly certain he hadn’t said that last one out loud, but Rarity kissed him anyway.

Her fingers ghosted across his cheek, and her lips touched his, warm and soft. Spike’s first thought was, she tastes like mint. His second thought was, holy bucking Celestia, I’m kissing Rarity.
> Aftermath
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter Eight

<><3<><3<><3


Spike was kissing Rarity in her office. Spike was kissing Rarity in her office. Spike was kissing Rarity in her office.

He kind of didn’t know what to do. He’d never kissed anyone before. Should he be doing something with his tongue?

Her hair brushed his cheek, smelling like shampoo and something else he couldn’t quite place. (Was it lavender? He thought so.) Her mouth was warm and soft and perfect against his. His hand pressed onto her knee, fingers curling.

Rarity pulled away, her blue eyes wide (and pretty). They stared at each other for a long time.

“Oh, dear.” Rarity whispered after a long, quiet moment, her voice strangely hoarse. She looked at her hands in her lap (and Spike’s hand on her knee, which he instantly removed). Her face burned. “I... I am so sorry, I don’t know what’s come over me, I...”

“I love you.” Spike blurted. He blushed. “Um, I—I’ve liked you for a really long time... I just thought, you know, now might be the time to say it, considering...” He laughed nervously.

The room was silent for a very long time.

Rarity cleared her throat. “I think you should go, Spike.”

She turned away in her desk chair, leaving him standing behind her, his shoulders slumping and his heart wrenching in his chest. What? She wants me to just... leave? She kisses me and then wants me to leave?

Rarity’s shoulders shook slightly, and even though she was facing away from him, he could tell she was crying. He felt awful. Holy buck, I made her cry. I shouldn’t have said anything!

Shame-faced, Spike zipped up his hoodie and left Carousel Boutique through its purple double doors. He couldn’t help but feel that it was the final time he would ever walk through those doors.

He couldn’t help but feel that it was the end of something.


<><3<><3<><3


Spike was sulking. Obviously.

He sat in his bedroom with his shoulders hunched and his hood pulled up. His lower lip trembled slightly as the song blasted through his headphones:


And she said, “Oh, I can't take no more!”
Her tears like diamonds on the floor...


Yeah, can't take no more of me... He tore off the headphones and tossed them onto his bed (he didn’t actually want to break them, because they were nice-quality and kind of pricey, but it felt good to throw something).

Twi was right, he thought sullenly. I should have just listened to her. “Why the hell didn’t I just listen to her?” Spike growled.

He felt like an idiot. He was an idiot. Of course Rarity would never love him back. She was probably just caught up in the moment; she just kissed him because he was there. (And he was only there because he wanted to kiss her. Buck that system.)

And now she was so mortified that she would probably never speak to him again.

Well, okay. Maybe he would never see Rarity again, but on the bright side... Yeah, there’s no bright side. I wouldn’t even care that I don’t get my suit now, if it only meant I could see her again. Maybe if I could just talk to her...

He sighed and shook his head. “I should just give her some space...”

But what if some space now turns into infinite space later? I should go talk to her. No, no, she won’t want to see me. But... buck, I’m just going to keep going in circles. All this moping isn’t going to help. I wonder what Twi is doing?

He trudged down the stairs and into the living room, where Twilight was lounging on the sofa (surrounded by shelves of books, because, come on, their entire house was a bucking library in a tree). She looked up when he came downstairs.

“Hi, Spike! Oh, are— are you okay?” She glanced him up and down worriedly.

He shrugged. “Something... kind of... happened today.” He reached up to rub the back of his neck. “I should have listened to you, but I didn’t, and, so, um, I—“

The phone rang. Of course it rang, when he was trying to pour his heart out to someone. Twilight got up to answer it, leaving him alone in the room.

A moment later, she came back, looking distressed. “That was Sweetie Belle. She came back from choir practice hours ago and Rarity wasn’t home, and the place looked a wreck. Rarity... she hasn’t come back yet.”

Spike glanced at the clock on the wall; it was nearing midnight. (Why was Sweetie Belle still awake? Speaking of which, why was he still awake?)

Rarity was an adult, though, right? (Isn’t that the reason this whole thing started?) She could take care of herself. If she wanted to be out this late, then she should be able to. But she’d never left Sweetie Belle alone this late before... And what about their house looking a wreck? What was that about?

“Should we be worried?” Spike asked.

Twilight Sparkle looked at him. “I think we should be very worried.”
> In Which Spike Goes Looking For Rarity, And Finds Something Even Better (But Also Rarity)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter Nine

<><3<><3<><3


“Rarity!” Spike called, his breath forming an iridescent puff of grey in the chilly night air. He pushed his hands into his pockets and looked around. He was standing on a street corner in the dark, blocks from Carousel Boutique.

After the phone call from Sweetie Belle, he and Twilight had thought of all the places Rarity could have been, and divided the town up between them. They’d called Rainbow Dash as well, since she was the fastest runner and could cover more ground. It had been at least an hour already, and they still hadn't found her.

“Rarity!” He called again, trying to force down the note of hysteria in his voice. Calm down, Spike. Don’t freak out. We’ll find her. I’m not worried. Why should I be worried? It’s only—he checked his watch—two in the morning. Okay, time to panic.

He kept walking down the street, his shoes kicking up rocks. His fingers shook in his pockets, partly from cold and partly from nerves.

He’d already checked the park, the fabric store, and countless other places he thought Rarity might be. There was just one last place he had to go before he could say he had checked everywhere. And he wasn’t all that thrilled about it.

Spike looked up at the neon sign above the door: Berry’s Punch, the only bar in town. He sighed and pushed through the doors. A bell jingled.

It was dark inside, and it smelled horrible, like smoke and sharp alcohol and something else he wouldn’t care to name. If Rarity was in here... he just didn’t want to think about that. But if she wasn’t here... well, then he didn’t want to think about that either, because it would mean they hadn’t found her, and he really might never see her again – not because she didn’t want him to, but because he couldn’t.

“Hey, kid, you’re underage.” The bartender – a woman with mulberry-colored hair that he assumed was Berry Punch, owner of the bar – yelled at him. “Get out, unless you want the police to hear about it.”

“I’m not here to buy anything.” Spike growled. “I’m just looking for a friend.”

“We’re all just looking for a friend, buddy.” Someone muttered. He turned to see a man hunched over his drink, cradling it like it was his last hope. Spike felt equal pangs disgust and pity.

Berry Punch sighed and went back to cleaning a glass. “Find your friend and then scram, alright? Ten minutes.”

“Thank you.” Spike said (albeit grudgingly), and looked around, searching for any sign of purple hair and long, graceful legs that ended in black pumps.

He found them in the corner of the bar, in the dark. Rarity had her head in her arms on the table, her shoulders shaking violently, like they had been in her office earlier that day. “Oh, Rarity.” He whispered, dodging drunks to get to her. (He tried not to take this situation as a metaphor.)

He put a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up at him, which is when he realized she wasn’t crying—she was laughing. Her mascara was smeared, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes, but she was laughing like he’d just said the funniest thing in the world.

“Spike!” She cried, her laugh becoming even more hysterical and with an edge of panic. “Of course you're here! Of course it would be you, because life just wants to screw me over!”

“Rarity, why the hell are you here?” He asked, angry. “You’re better than this!”

“Am I really, Spike, darling?” Rarity spat, swaying slightly in her chair. “I don’t think—“ She hiccuped. “I don’t think I am, because I kissed you.”

Ouch. That really stung. “Nice to know I was a mistake.” Spike said, unsure whether there was more pain or venom in his voice at the moment.

“You’re not the mistake, baby. I am.” Rarity laughed bitterly (he noticed she was laughing a lot tonight, but he wasn’t sure he liked the reasons for it). “I’m always the mistake.” She downed a shot of something amber-colored and hiccuped again.

“What are you talking about?” Spike demanded, not understanding and still very hurt. “You’re not a mistake.”

“Yes, I am.” Rarity scoffed. “I screw everything up. My little sister is never home because she can’t stand to be around me, I’ve messed up our friendship with a stupid kiss... I’m such an idiot.” She burst into tears.

Don’t hug her. Don’t hug her. Don’t—aw, buck it. Spike wrapped his arms around Rarity, and she sobbed into his shirt. Her hair smelled amazing (even after all the alcohol she’d been drinking). “Rarity, you haven’t messed up our friendship! I’m still your friend, I—I promise I’ll always be your friend.”

“But I don’t want to be your friend!” Rarity sobbed. “I want to be your girlfriend. I love you, Spike!”


<><3<><3<><3

She's down in it
She tried her best but now she can't win it
Hard to see them on the ground
Her diamonds falling down...

> In Too Deep
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter Ten

<><3<><3<><3


“You love me? You— I love you, too! I mean, I know I said that already, earlier, in your office— Well, I’m rambling now, but, buck, I love you so much Rarity...”

...is what he meant to say. Really, honestly, he wanted to say it, of course he did, it was Rarity. But he didn’t.

He’d wished, prayed, hoped against hope that his only love, his long-time crush, the girl of his dreams, Rarity, would one day tell him that she felt the same way, that her lips would form the three little words he’d so been longing to hear. And they had. But it wasn’t real, and he knew it. She was drunk; very, very drunk, and when she woke up the next morning (in her own bed, because, really, come on, he was a gentleman, and he would get her home in one piece if it killed him, which it might) with a massive hangover, she would regret ever telling him that.

“Rarity, you’re smashed.” He sighed. “You’re not thinking straight.”

“Of course I’m smashed!” Rarity sobbed. “Why do you think I’m here? I’m trying to forget you, and your stupid, gorgeous face, and your stupid, sweet smile, and your... damn it, I really want to kiss you again.” She moved forward and fell over onto the floor.

“Rarity!” Spike yelled. He helped her get up, taking one of her arms over his shoulder. (Admittedly he was holding up most of her weight, but at least she was vertical, right?) “I think it’s time to go home.”

“I want... ‘nother drink.” She slurred, stumbling into him. "I can still see— 'm not drunk enough yet."

“You’ve had enough,” Spike said firmly, pushing open the door of the bar. Cold air hit them, and he breathed deeply, trying to clear his head. He turned to her, and his face softened immediately. (How could he stay mad at such a pitiful sight? Not to mention one he was at least partially responsible for...) He put a hand on her shoulder, steadying her. “Rare, I’m going to call Twilight, okay? Just give me a second.”

“Twilight! What is it, do you like her more than me?” Rarity was still crying.

Spike sighed, not bothering to correct her, and pulled out his cell phone. “Yeah, hi, Twilight? I found Rarity.” He held the phone away from his ear as Twilight let out a string of high-pitched exclamations. “I know, I know, she was down at Berry’s Punch. She’s drunk. We have to get her home.”

He could practically see Twilight nodding on the other end of the phone. “Okay, Sweetie Belle went to spend the night at Applejack’s, so the house should be empty. Rarity has keys... unless she lost them.”

Spike glanced at Rarity. She was falling asleep against a nearby lamppost. “It’s possible. Look, I’m only a few blocks away. I’ll take her there, make sure she gets in okay.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Spike... Maybe I should come with—“

“I’ll handle it, okay?” Spike growled. “I know why you really want to come, and don’t worry, I’ll be a perfect gentleman. Thanks for trusting me, though.” He spat, and hung up the phone.

Spike turned back to Rarity (who was awake again). She looked at him with wide, distrusting eyes, her fingers curled tightly around a purse he hadn’t noticed she had. Her dress was wrinkled, her hair messy, her make-up smeared. She looked like the girl in a romantic comedy that had just gotten her heart ripped out by the wrong guy. (Spike, in this case, being that guy, resented ever having thought this in the first place.)

“I’m going to get you home now, okay?” He said gently, as thought talking to a child, reaching out for her hand.

She jerked her arm away from him. “No!” She said loudly, her voice unsteady. “No, we’re not going home yet. We’re going to do this now. Spike, I never should have kissed you.”

Spike rubbed his eyes, suddenly very fed up with this entire situation. “I know, I know, we’ve already had this conversation!”

“No, you don’t understand.” Rarity took a shaky breath. “It was wrong of me to force myself on you, and I’m sorry. But I kept my feelings inside for so long, when you started helping me in my shop, I, I just... And—and then you told me you loved me.” She started to cry again, sobbing her next words. “I was s-so ha-a-ppy! All I wanted... was y-you.”

Spike wanted to cry with her. This wasn’t what he signed up for (but, then, love never is, is it?). He’d thought by keeping his distance for a while, he’d forget about her, like Twilight had hoped. Then he’d started helping her, and he’d gotten to spend more time with her, and that was wonderful, because it was Rarity. Then she’d kissed him, and that was even better, because it meant she might actually love him back.

But now here she was, standing in front of him, pouring out her heart, and the only thing he could think of was that none of it was true. She was just drunk off her arse. She probably didn’t even remember her own name.

“I’m taking you home.” He whispered, defeated. He didn’t want to hear any more of this. His heart was already breaking.

This time, when he reached for her hand, Rarity didn’t protest.


<><3<><3<><3


Spike clicked on the light in Rarity’s bedroom and was visually assaulted by purple once again. It was almost comforting at this point: how some things, at least, never changed.

He helped Rarity over to her bed (she’d been unusually quiet since her outburst outside the bar, and the sounds she did make were undecipherable). It hadn’t been easy getting her up the stairs (she’d fallen several times), but everything else was a piece of Pinkie’s invisible cake compared to that.

“Okay, Rarity, time for bed.” He said, setting her down gently on top of the (purple) duvet.

“Shms.” She mumbled into her pillow. It took a moment to translate: “Shoes.”

Spike smiled. Even falling asleep and totally smashed, Rarity was as sensible and detail-oriented as ever. He eased off her black heels and set them on the floor beside the bed. He glanced back at for a moment.

Her eyes were closing, tear drops caught in her long eyelashes, her hair spread out around her head like a purple halo.

“G’night, Rarity.” He murmured, leaning in to kiss her on the forehead. As he turned to go, she grabbed his wrist.

“Stay with me?” She pleaded, her lips forming an adorable pout.

Spike imagined staying, of laying beside Rarity as she drifted into alcohol-induced dreams, of watching over her until he fell asleep, himself. It was tempting. But then he thought further—of how, when Rarity woke up, she’d be surprised (and possibly disturbed) to find him next to her. In the morning, she’d regret every word she’d said to him tonight, and he didn’t really want to be there when that happened. He didn’t want to see the look of shame in her eyes as she awkwardly offered him coffee, wishing he would just leave her alone.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Spike closed the door behind him.
> What Happens When the World Has Ended?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter Eleven

<><3<><3<><3


Spike sat among stacks of unsorted books, spread out in every direction like some impossible maze at a county fair. Twilight Sparkle had put him on indefinite cataloging-and-shelving duty, for no good reason he could discern.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He knew the reason— it just wasn’t a good one, in his opinion.

When he’d come home last night, Twilight had spent another hour pushing for details. Why was Rarity at Berry’s Punch? What happened in her office? Why didn’t you tell me all this before? On and on and with quite a bit of shouting and a few tears and also a book was thrown. (Twilight had been angrier about that than anything else, really, staring with dismay at the slightly bent spine and ranting about bookmaker’s fees and proper respect. He’d just stopped listening after a while; it was late and he was tired, and it wasn’t as though she noticed when he fell asleep at the kitchen table.)

He’d tried to explain (I don’t know; Nothing, honestly; I tried to, but the phone rang...), but it was no use. Twilight was set in her ways, and it didn’t help that she thought he had something to do with Rarity’s drinking. (She was right, of course, but he couldn’t tell her that.)

So here he was. In the library. With the books. For Celestia knew how much longer.

He’d barely made a dent, and here was why: he was thinking. No, thinking wasn’t quite the right word—he was pondering.

Spike was pondering the end of the world, and how one goes on after it’s come to pass. He’d been pondering this for quite some time, and it didn’t seem as though he would be stopping soon.

When I first started loving Rarity, I had hope. I had hope that she might love me back one day. Sure, it was misplaced hope, but it was hope. Now... well...

Let’s try a scenario. Let’s say that in this scenario, hope is represented by Normal Life.

So, Normal Life (i.e., hope) goes on. Babies are born, grandparents die, grass grows, dancers perform in their theatres, people fall in love, doctors prescribe medication and pretend it actually works.

Then something happens. Something unexpected. Let’s say a meteor falls from space. Let’s say global warming melts the ice caps, drowns the continents, and then boils the oceans until they’re just steam. (This all represents last night with Rarity.)

So, Normal Life as we know it has ended. There is no more hope. Everything is gone, wiped out and reduced to ash and dust and cockroaches. (Come on, people, we all know they’re the only things that could ever survive a nuclear war or global warming or aliens. Unless it’s zombies, in which case they’re screwed just like the rest of us, cockroaches will still be there.)

Everything has ended. There will be no more white sundresses on display behind the glass of a boutique, or schoolyard bullies pushing smaller kids into lockers, or painters hosting gallery-walks of modern art no one understands, or business men in suits using their bluetooth phone in the middle of a crowded intersection. There will never be any of that again. Everything is just... over.

How do you go on after that? After everything you know has just come to a halt? How do you keep living, day by day by day by boring, wonderful, awful, lovely day... when you've seen your world come crashing down around you?

“What happens now?” Spike asked the books.

They didn’t reply.

Spike nodded, laughing to himself under his breath. “That’s what I thought.”


<><3<><3<><3


“Spike, have you finished cataloging yet?” Twilight Sparkle asked him, hours after his internal monologue.

Spike rubbed his eyes and blinked several times, trying to get them moist again. He’d had them open all day, and all these letters and numbers were starting to look like jumbles of nonsense. “I’m almost finished with the Zs. Why the hell do you have so many books on voodoo medicine? Doesn’t Zecora want these back? What would you even need these for?”

Twilight Sparkle peered at him from behind her half-moon glasses. Her navy hair was tied up in a tight bun, and her blazer was freshly pressed. She looked like a disapproving schoolteacher. In many ways, thought Spike, she was one.

“You never know.” She said vaguely. “They could come in handy for something eventually.”

Spike had the distinct sense that this was a threat.

“Well, if you’re almost finished, I’m going out. I have a few things to pick up, not to mention—“ She held up the text he’d thrown at her last night and gave him a pointed look. “—Something to drop off, as well.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I’ll aim better next time, so as not to hurt the book.” There may have been just the slightest hint of spite in his voice, but it was so small she might have missed it.

Or not, judging by the look his mentor was now giving him. This one was pointed in a whole different way—like knives. “Yes, well, good luck with that. I’m sure you can find another book to help you. I’d recommend Throwing for Eggheads.” She retorted, turning on her heel and marching smartly off.

“Love you too!” He called as the door slammed, and then, under his breath, “Bitch.”

Although there was no way she could have heard him, he instantly regretted even thinking the word. They’d never fought like this before... Sure, they had their arguments, and sure, they’d been mean, but it had never gone on for this long, and over something so obviously not his fault.

It’s not like he asked for Rarity to get drunk. Where did Twilight get the idea that he was responsible? Hadn’t it been Twilight who’d been so hung up on Rarity’s age? She was an adult— wasn’t she responsible for herself?

This was all so confusing. He wanted to stop fighting with Twi, but he also knew that she was in the wrong. He wanted to be happy that Rarity kissed him and declared her love, but he also knew that it wasn’t real.

It wasn’t real. She was smashed off her arse when she told him she loved him, so obviously she wasn’t thinking straight. She was just mixing her platonic feelings for him with her guilt about the kiss in her office. Why else would she tell him to leave after he expressed his feelings for her?

And the kiss; it hadn’t meant anything to her. They’d just been having a nice chat, and they were sitting very close to each other, and she’d just taken a leap. Heat of the moment. By the look in her eyes afterward, Spike could tell she regretted it.

...Right?

Spike sighed and shelved the last book. He needed to stop over-thinking this. He needed a distraction.

He picked up his headphones from the couch in the living room, where he’d tossed them earlier, and turned the volume up as loud as it could go. What better way to distract himself than with his favorite song blasting in his ears?


“Oh, what the hell,” she says
“I just can’t win for losing.”
And she lays back down...
Man, there’s so many times I don’t know what I’m doing...
Like I don’t know now...


On second thought, maybe this wasn’t the best song choice... Did he even actually have any other songs on his iPod? (No, he didn’t, apparently. He’d checked.)

So music is a bust. What else can I do around here?

Spike never got a chance to answer that question, because just then, a knock came at the door.

He rolled his eyes and walked into the front hall to answer it. “Twilight never remembers to take her damn keys with her.”

He opened the door, and found the last person he expected to see standing there (although he honestly should have expected it). (It wasn’t Twilight Sparkle.)

“Rarity?”
> Tell Me It'll Be Okay
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter Twelve

<><3<><3<><3


Spike gaped at the woman standing in his front doorway. She was the most beautiful hung-over person he’d ever seen. Not that he'd seen many hung-over people, but he assumed they looked worse than this.

She was wearing dark-washed skinny jeans and a cream-colored tank top. Her make-up was perfect, her hair was pinned up (soft purple ringlets hung next to her ears), and her eyebrows were only slightly more drawn together than usual, showing no signs of a headache It was like she didn’t even feel it. Spike was impressed (and very much in love with her on whole new levels).

“Rarity, wha— what are you doing here?” He asked, completely taken by surprise.

Rarity sighed and closed her eyes for a moment before opening them again. (Damn, he’s still there, Spike imagined her thinking, holding back a smirk at his own stubborn refusal to disappear.)

“I-I’m terribly sorry to just turn up suddenly like this, but I thought... well, I thought we might have a word.” Rarity said softly. “May I come inside?”

Spike wavered. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea... Twilight isn’t here right now...” to bail me out if things get too intense.

Rarity drew in a breath. “Actually, that might be better. It’s more of a private word.”

“Right.” Spike mumbled. He opened the door wider, relenting, and Rarity stepped past him into the front hall.

He caught a wisp of her lavender scent as she passed him, and thought back to the moment in her office when her hair had brushed his cheek as they kissed. He forced down the memory, determined to focus. Rarity was no doubt here to confirm the very conclusions he’d made earlier in the library.

He just hoped she let him down easy. He couldn’t handle any more heartbreak this week.

“Um, can I get you anything to drink?’ He asked nervously, leading her to the living room. (Being around Rarity always made him nervous. He didn’t mean to look like a fool in front of her, but he managed to do it anyway.)

“No, thank you.” Rarity took a seat on the couch, and looked up at him expectantly. He sat down next to her (but at a respectable distance).

“First of all, I... I want to apologize for last night.” Rarity said, looking at her hands in her lap. “And now I want to tell you why... it happened in the first place.”

Spike watched as she tucked a purple curl behind one of her ears. He’d been wondering all day why she was at Berry’s Punch. It seemed he might finally get some answers. Maybe then Twilight would stop blaming him for everything.

“After I kissed you,” Rarity continued. “I... well, I was ashamed. I never meant to push myself on you. It was wrong of me.”

“Rarity, I—“

She held up a hand to stop him. “Please, let me finish. Then, you said you loved me...” She smiled, the same smile she’d been giving him for the past few weeks, the one he craved so much. It was nice to know it hadn’t changed, even if so much else had. “I’m sorry I told you to leave. I needed to be alone with my thoughts for a while, and that led to drinking, I suppose... which is why you found me at the bar.”

Spike’s heart sunk. “So it is my fault.”

“No, no, Spike, darling, of course it’s not!” Rarity exclaimed, grasping his hands. “You have been nothing but sweet to me, and though I honestly don’t remember much of last night, I know that you were the one who took me home when I was in a dark place. Thank you, so much, for that.”

“But?” Spike whispered, afraid to hear what he knew was coming next.

Rarity sighed. “...But I had reasons for being in that dark place. I’m an adult, and you’re a minor. It’s technically illegal that I kissed you. If anyone finds out, my reputation as a designer would be destroyed!”

Spike decided those might not be bad reasons. He hadn’t even thought of that, though he supposed he should have. He suddenly felt bold. What had he got to lose, now? “So why did you kiss me, then?”

Rarity looked at him, and his heart soared, because he could see the answer in her eyes, and this time, he knew for certain it was real. “What I said last night is true.” She said softly. “I love you, Spike.”

Spike couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward and put his hands on her waist and they were kissing again, just like in his dream. Granted, this time they weren’t in formalwear on the dance floor of a Canterlot gala, but, hey, he couldn’t have it all, right?

“Spike,” Rarity whispered, pulling away from the kiss but keeping her arms around his neck. “This could never work, we couldn't do this, we could never be public like this... you know that, don’t you?”

Spike shrugged, his breathing shaky. “We don’t have to be public. We can... we can be a secret couple! No one has to know. But I love you, and I’m not going to stop just because a bunch of judges decided it’s wrong. ”

Rarity smiled, his fingers running through his hair. “I love you, too. Just don’t tell anyone, okay?”

Spike laughed, and kissed her again. “Okay,” he murmured. “So, if we're together now — secretly, of course! — does that mean I get to kiss you all the time, then?”

She shook her head. “Only when we’re alone. But then, as much as you want.” She grinned. “Leave time to breath, though, okay? I wouldn’t want to lose you after I went through so much trouble to get to this point.”

“Trouble?” Spike scoffed, teasing. “I spent years pining after you, and you never even noticed me.”

Rarity blinked. “Really? Years?”

Suddenly afraid he’d said the wrong thing, had freaked her out, he swallowed and tried to backtrack. “Um, well, sort of, yeah...”

“I’m sorry.” She said softly. “I didn’t know. But you have all my attention, now.” She smiled and kissed him. (He would never really get used to this, the whole kissing-Rarity thing, but he knew he liked it, and didn’t want it to stop.)

Spike glanced at the clock. “Oh. Actually, I think Twilight should be getting home soon...”

“Oh, right.” Rarity said, slipping out of his grasp. “I should be heading home, then.” She stood there for a moment, just looking at him, unable to keep a smile off her face. “Okay, I’m really going now...”

Spike smiled back, and followed her into the front hall. As he opened the door for her, he realized he had just one last question. “So... what are we, exactly?”

Rarity straightened the strings of his hoodie, just to be closer to him. “To the world, we’re just friends, and I’m sorry about that, but I can’t have it any other way. But to us... we’re...” She struggled for the right words. “You’re my love.” She murmured, and kissed his cheek.

He watched her walk away (she had very nice legs, even trapped in those skinny jeans) and thought that even though this was new and exciting and frightening, and he really wanted a label to make sense of it all, to finally be Rarity’s love... well, that was enough.

That would always be enough.
> Advice!!! (starring Fluttershy)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter Thirteen

<><3<><3<><3


Spike dreamed he was an enormous purple-and-green dragon, guarding a hoard of glittering diamonds as a song by Rob Thomas echoed around his dark cave. Knights in shining armor kept challenging him, trying to trick him into giving up his vigil of the jewels. He merely laughed at them; he would never give up his diamonds.

He tried not to take this as a metaphor, and failed.

He’d loved Rarity for so long, and now he finally had her, at least when they were alone. He understood why they could never be a real couple—Rarity’s career was important to her, and she was important to him. If anyone found out they had feelings for each other, their faces would be plastered across the tabloids faster than he could say ‘scandal.’

I need to talk to someone, he thought, pulling on his purple converse, for which Scootaloo had teased him relentlessly last year. (He’d told her exactly where she could put her scooter, but she hadn’t been very pleased with the idea.)

He thought of who he could turn to now. His closest friends, the Crusaders, were out of the question—Scootaloo would tell him he was an egghead (a phrase she’d gotten from her idol, Rainbow Dash), Apple Bloom would press for more details than he was comfortable revealing, and Sweetie Belle was Rarity’s sister.

Twilight wouldn’t be of much help, either. He’d probably just shock her (maybe she’d even have a conniption, he thought with glee), and she would tell him it was a terrible idea to date Rarity. He didn’t much want to have that conversation with her, anyhow.

Who did he know who would listen to him carefully, would keep his secrets in confidence, would understand his love without judgment? Who was sweet, and caring, and treated every creature equally?

Spike grabbed his hoodie from the hook near the door and called into the kitchen. “Hey, Twilight, I’m going to visit a friend, okay?”

Twilight Sparkle appeared in the doorway, looking skeptical. (She always looked a bit skeptical, but this was different from her natural, general skepticism about the world and the way it supposedly worked. This was more like... well, suspicion.) “What friend?”

Spike glared at her, one hand on the doorknob. (He couldn’t leave, not yet. This had been going on for far too long, and they were going to settle it now.) “Does it matter what friend? I’m still allowed to have those, aren’t I? Or do you want me to become a hermit, and stay in our bedroom the rest of my life?”

“If it would stop you getting into trouble, maybe!” She snapped back.

“Why don’t you trust me anymore, Twilight?” He sucked in a breath to fight back the flood of tears that was threatening to spill forth. “I’ve been so nice to everyone! When you and your stupid friends teased me, I just stood there and took it! When I was helping Rarity, I didn’t even let my hand touch hers for more than a second, because I didn’t want to stretch my boundaries! And the other night, she asked me to stay with her, and I said no! I said no.”

He was full out yelling now, his eyes wet and a tight, pained feeling in his chest.

Twilight stared at him, shocked. “Spike, I don't—“

“So what the hell more do you want from me, huh, Twi? Look, surprise!” He snarled. “I have feelings. And you’ve been screwing with them from the very beginning. Well, I’m done listening to your stupid rules, okay? I’m going to live my own life the way I want to. I love Rarity, and nothing you can say will change that.”

He opened the door. “I’m going to visit Fluttershy.” He slammed it shut behind him, leaving his mentor standing in the front hallway of their house, gaping at the door like a fish out of water.

Outside, he stopped to catch his breath, bracing his hands against his knees and feeling a strange mixture of relief and guilt (not to mention a little leftover fury). He’d let it all out, finally. So why did he still feel as though he’d done something wrong?


<><3<><3<><3


Fluttershy opened her door on the second knock, as though she’d been expecting someone else.

She stood there in her yellow sweater for a moment, her one visible eye wide with surprise, before her expression melted into a tiny, gentle smile. “Hi, Spike.” She said, her voice as soft-spoken and kind as always. “Are you here about the bird?”

Spike blinked at her. “What bird?”


<><3<><3<><3


“This is Henrietta.” Fluttershy said of the dove that perched on her hand. Henrietta ruffled the feathers on her one good wing, the other being moved gingerly to accomedate. “She broke her wing last week, and I just couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her out in the cold like that.”

Spike did not point out that it didn’t get very cold outside, this being almost spring and all; Fluttershy wouldn’t have listened anyway. “Can she fly at all?”

Fluttershy shook her head slightly, her bubblegum-pink hair falling into her field of vision. “No, not yet. She’s still healing.” She bit her lip. “I wish I could fly...” She murmured wistfully. “Don’t you?”

“All the time.” Spike said, giving her a smile. He reached out a finger and stroked Henrietta’s soft head. She pushed up against his hand and cooed, her beady black eyes shining.

“She likes you.” Fluttershy said, setting Henrietta down gently on the windowsill. (Fluttershy didn’t believe in birdcages, or any cages, really, which is why, if you valued your shoes, and/or didn’t care to have the occasional kicked puppy on your conscience, you always had to tread carefully in her house.)

“Would you like some iced tea?” Fluttershy asked, straightening and brushing her hands on her jeans. “I got the lemons this morning.”

“Sure,” Spike said, following her into the kitchen. (It had bright yellow tiles in between the white ones, set up like a game of checkers; white, yellow, white... Yellow was such a happy color. A little too happy, thought Spike.) He sat down at the table, pushing aside several volumes of The Content Weevil Watcher’s Guide and a few tufts of snowy white fur.

Fluttershy handed him a glass and sat down across from him. “So you said there was something you wanted to talk about? I mean, i-if you want to!” She stammered. “I don’t mean to pry.”

“No, no, that’s okay.” Spike assured her. “I wanted to talk to you about... relationships. Um, can you keep a secret?”

“Oh.” Fluttershy said, taken by surprise for the second time that day. “Of course I can.”

“You have to promise not to tell anyone.” He had to have her word; at this point, he couldn’t risk not being sure.

She nodded.

“Um.” Spike twisted the bottom of his sweatshirt in his fingers, a nervous habit that had cost him a few repairs over the years. (It figures his way of coping with stress would be one that eventually sends him to a tailor—or, in this case, a designer.) “I... sort of... have this... well, I don’t know what to call us.”

“A girlfriend? A boyfriend?” Fluttershy asked softly, hands cradling her glass of iced tea. (All at once Spike knew he’d come to the right place. She was so gentle with everything; even a simple inanimate object was treated with the utmost care in Fluttershy’s house, and he admired her for it.)

He shrugged, reaching out to trace one finger down the lines of condensation on his own glass. “I don’t know, she doesn’t want to put labels on it—she can’t, really. What I mean is, it’s, like, sort of... an us-only thing? She doesn’t want to tell anyone else.”

Fluttershy nodded. “Does that bother you?”

Spike blinked. “Um, I hadn’t really thought about it, I guess. I mean, it sort of bothers me. I... I love her, you know? I want to be able to show it.”

The pink-haired girl bit her lip and then nodded. “That’s understandable, of course. But if she’s not comfortable being open about it, you have to respect her feelings. If you can’t... well, I do hope you don’t mind my saying this, Spike, I don’t mean to offend, but if you can’t do that, than maybe she’s not the right person for you to be with.”

Immediately, Spike fiercely thought, of course she’s the right person for me to be with! She’s Rarity and I love her and I wouldn’t have it any other way and I’m not giving her up now, I can't, I’ve only just got her to myself, and—! Oh.

“You’re absolutely right, Flutters.” He said, now with new determination and confidence. “I shouldn’t let it bother me. As long as she knows I love her, it doesn’t matter if anyone else does.”

Fluttershy smiled. “You know, Spike, I... I have a special someone, too. It’s actually a similar situation... She’s not ready to go public yet.”

She? Spike looked at her with surprise. “Fluttershy, you’re a... you know... You like girls?”

Fluttershy blushed and seemed to shrink further away from him. “Um, yes?” She squeaked, like it was a question. “Sorry?”

“What?” Spike backtracked quickly. “No, no, I just meant... That’s fine with me! Love is love.”

He thought he saw her breathe a tiny sigh of relief, but it might have just been his imagination.

Fluttershy has a girlfriend? I never would have thought! I wonder who it could be... Spike thought of all the times he had seen her sneaking glances at someone, or blushing more than usual, or going out of her way to be closer to someone. One person kept coming up: a certain fast runner, who happened to have known Fluttershy since they were young.

Then he recalled last week, in the library, when the girls had come over for lunch, when this whole thing with Rarity had really started. “Ain’t that right, Dash?” Spike remembered thinking that was weird, how Dash had gone all silent when Fluttershy had been mentioned, and then that random comment from Applejack...

“So, this girl you’re with...” Spike started, grinning from ear to ear. “Does she... like rainbows?”

Fluttershy turned an even brighter shade of scarlet and suddenly found that her shoes were very, very interesting, possibly enough to write a novel on, judging by the way her eyes were glued to them.

Spike laughed. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you, Flutters. Sorry I brought it up.”

“No, th-that’s okay.” Fluttershy said softly. “I’m glad I could help you with your problem.”

“Yeah.” He gave her a grateful smile. “Thanks for that. I really needed it. I—”

A snowy white bunny hopped up onto the table and wrinkled its nose at him, stopping his train of thought completely. Its ears were long and bent slightly outwards, and it had a tiny green bow around its neck.

Fluttershy giggled. “I think it’s Angel’s lunchtime. Would you mind helping me with the carrots?”

Spike shook his head. “Not at all.” He said cheerfully, peering at the bunny as Fluttershy went hunting for a cutting board.

Angel wrinkled his nose again, as though displeased at having been forgotten for so long. While you were having your little therapy session, some of us were practically starving to death! He seemed to say.

“Sorry to have hijacked your mealtime, buddy.” Spike said, wrinkling his nose right back. “But I think I got what I came for.”