I Am Sick And Stuff
~*~
You sit at the kitchen table, eating breakfast and contemplating what to do with your day. You could just eat yourself stuffed, could sit at home and do nothing, soak in a bath until you become the amazing raisin man, with the magical ability to slip on bathroom tiles and hit your head. Again. But for some reason, today feels like it needs to be special. And not the shortbus kind.
Luckily, the decision making process isn’t entirely up to you.
At that moment, your house-mate and love of your screwed-up life, Berry Punch, walks in. Her mane is still a mess, creating a weird purple afro of tangles around the top of her head, and the bags under her eyes are thick enough that an airline would force her to check them at the gate. Even though it’s nearly noon, it’s clear she’s just now getting up. You don’t really blame her for it, considering she's sick and probably should have died by this point, but you can’t pass up the chance to give her a little grief.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” you croon.
She makes various guttural pig noises at you and stumbles her way over to the fridge.
“Aw, is someone hungover?” you say in mock-pity.
It’s a cruel joke, since she can’t drink anymore, but this sort of bullying is what keeps your relationship fresh. She turns to you over one shoulder and glares at you, before taking the pitcher of orange juice out of the fridge. Maintaining eye contact with you, she drinks directly from the jug, making ugly, loud slurping noises. You cringe back, disgusted by the exaggerated, wet noises reminiscent of someone eating ass.
“Why?” you ask her, voice trembling.
She at last sets down the jug and wipes her mouth on the back of her hoof.
“Because I knew it would gross you out,” she says simply. “I’m not gonna fight fair if you’re going to start shit. Oughta know better by now. I’ll even get emotionally-blackmaily and pouty, so don’t test me.”
You sigh.
“I guess. Sorry to pick at you I’m just…”
“Bored?”
You nod sadly, and she comes to sit across the table from you.
“Yeah, I feel that,” she says. “I feel bored so often now. You can only screw, cry, and lament your own mortality so much before it becomes a little too samey.”
You frown.
“You think our sex life is samey?”
“Nah,” she says, supportively patting your hand with one hoof. “I just figure it might feel that way to anyone who might theoretically look at our lives from an outside perspective, as if reading the pages of a story. But who cares about them, they’re perverts anyway.”
“…Jesus, Berry, why are you so existential today?”
“When am I not? Being sober all the time does that to you,” she says with a shrug. “Anyway, about what to do today.”
“Yeah,” you say, chewing your lip thoughtfully, “I’m thinking I might, just, go to the hospital for old time’s sake or for nondescript medical tests. Or maybe do all that world traveling I’ve always talked about but never seem to do, even though I’m working on a limited schedule. Both of those seem in character for me, right?”
“Only if you make a bunch of uncomfortable jokes and find some way for it to turn into a romantic sexual experience,” she acknowledges.
“That sounds like too much work,” you grumble. “What are your ideas?”
Berry sits there thoughtfully, rubbing her emaciated horse chin. Then she gives a dismissive shrug.
“Well, I mean, if you don’t have any objections, we could go over to Twilight’s place and have her cure our life-ending health problems through magic.”
You sit across the table from her and stare at her blankly in silence for a moment.
“Wait,” you say, massaging your temple. “You’re saying we could have done that this whole time?”
“I mean, yeah I suppose,” Berry says. “We’ve never even brought it up with her or tried it, and she has strong enough magic to mess with the timeline of existence, so curing liver disease and immune system disorders should be no problem, right?”
You think this over for a moment or two, then begin to nod, more enthusiastically by the second.
“Yeah… yeah let’s do that!” you say. “If you really think it won’t ruin the sexual tension or depth of our love or all that gay stuff.”
“Well, if it does we can just get into really kinky German dungeon play. Should keep things interesting enough for a few more oneshots.”
“Hm?”
“Nothing,” she says, smiling brightly. “Let’s get going!”
Twilight Sparkle looks from you, to Berry, then back to you again with an expression of annoyance and disbelief. You’ve just explained the situation to her, and she’s been standing there in silence for nearly a full minute, just looking the pair of you up and down. At last, she speaks in a flat, hollow voice.
“So, let me get this straight,” she says slowly. “You’ve both had terminal illnesses, you’ve been sleeping together, for what, a year now? And this whole time, neither of you came to me to have all that fixed and have you not be perpetually on the verge of death?”
You and Berry look at each other, then look back at her and shrug mildly.
“I guess,” you admit.
“…aaaand why haven’t you had this fixed yet?”
“Well,” Berry says, “We’re far more romantic and tragic if we’re incurable, and the suspense of waiting for one of us to die sure is exciting.”
Twilight blinks at you both again.
“Are you serious right now?”
“It’s hard to tell,” you say with a sigh. “Sometimes we’re cute, sometimes we’re humorous, but sometimes shit gets super real, and you never know when that’s gonna happen.”
“You know what,” Twilight says, holding up a hoof to ask you to stop speaking. “I don’t understand what’s going on, or why you’re both acting like this, or what the fuck you’re even talking about, but that’s fine. Yeah, I can fix you both up. Just hold still.”
You and Berry turn to look at each other and make little girly squeals of excitement. Twilight just rolls her eyes at you, then lowers her head and her horn glows. You shut your eyes and listen to Twilight as she mumbles what must obviously be a super secret ancient magical incantation.
“Alicorn princess OP magic bullshit blah blah blah I have wings now, oogily boogily boo…” she mutters.
In your chest, you feel something move, something change. You must be becoming healthy! You must be changing at even a genetic level into a perfect example of humanity! You can sense something rising up in you, something new. This must be it, the magic of good health! This must be…
“BURP.”
…or it’s just gas.
Either way, after a moment of feeling tingly in your jinglies, Twilight’s horn stops glowing, and she steps back and sighs.
“There, you’re both not dying anymore,” she grumbles. “Now, please, if you ever have some sort of life threatening issue, do you think you could come to me for help rather than just trying to fuck each other back to life?”
“Probably not,” Berry says. “That second option sounds like more fun.”
“I give up,” Twilight groans. “Get out. Out of my castle. I can’t deal with this melodrama anymore.”
With that, her horn glows again, and she magically shoves the pair of you out the front door. It slams behind you, and you’re left standing on the dirt path outside, blinking up into the sunlight. After a moment of just coming to grips with your new reality, you turn to Berry Punch.
“Okay, so, we’re not dying,” you say. “But that didn’t take as long as I thought it would, and now I’m bored again.”
“Same,” Berry says. “What’s the first thing we should do to celebrate our newfound health?”
You think about it a moment, then slowly look up to find her staring at you. You lock eyes, staring at each other in a moment of perfect mental unison. You can see in her expression that she’s having the same idea you are, and that she’s super into it. You both slowly break into a sly smile.
“You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” you say in a low, smooth jazz seductive voice.
She makes a suggestive little humming noise in the back of her throat, and bites her lower lip.
“Oh yeah,” she says, her voice soft and breathy. “I thought you’d never ask…”
You sit at the bar next to Berry, staring glumly into your half empty mug of cider. Or is it half full? You never really did understand what that was all about. Beside you, Berry is on her sixth mug, and she’s chugging it down like there might be a fat Patreon paycheck at the bottom. Once it’s empty, she slams it down next to her on the bar, and lets out a groan of pleasure.
“Hooo-wee!” she says, slurring hard. “Hot daaamn have I mished this good good sheeeit!”
You sigh.
“You know, I was implying we should have sex,” you mumble.
She gives a sharp laugh and grabs for the next full mug of cider.
“Screw that!” she announces. “I havn’t -hic- had a drink in a yeeear! And I have a whooole new liver to ruin now!”
“Pretty sure that wasn’t what Twilight intended when she healed us.”
Berry waves a hoof at you dismissively.
“Pshhhhhhh, what elsh are livers for but filling with booooze!”
“Well, they regulate waste products and filter blood and metabolize your—”
You are cut short by the sound of Berry vomiting all over herself as she chokes on her most recent drink a little. You look at her in deep, grandparent-like disappointment as she sputters and coughs, then wipes her mouth sloppily with one hoof. She looks down at the vomit all over her fur and the floor, then up at you. Then she smiles toothily. You can smell her from here.
“S-shtill wanna fuck?” she says.
You sigh. Maybe a bath would have been a better plan for your day after all.
-END-