Part I | You'll Always Be My One
Size Doesn't Matter
B_25
Spike entered the kitchen knowing it would be empty, that the same would be true of the rest of the castle. The clacking of his feet against the polished floor reminded him of a kid sneaking back into the house well after dark. Both guilty of a crime—only the dragon's was about to begin.
The cabinet loomed above the counter and the sink, easily reached by a pony raising on their hindlegs or sizzling magic into their horn. But seeing as how the dragon barely reached the height of their chin upon standing still... new tactics would have to be invented.
“Leave no evidence.” Spike gazed over his shoulder to the kitchen table and the wooden chairs set around it. With a smile, he walked over, grabbing the leg of one and dragging it back. Then, in turning it amidst its squeaks against the floor, he pushed its back against the counter. “In and out. Don't linger.”
Throwing a claw onto the seat, the dragon slowly pulled himself up, coming to stand on the wood. Then, carefully, he threw his arms over the back of the chair and onto the counter, raising a leg to either armrest—quickly after the other to maintain balance—before hoisting himself over and onto the counter.
The smoothness of marble rubbed against his side as Spike rolled onto his back. It'd been... weird to lie back on the counter. Not a spot he could keep in, much like this, with others around. But doing something he usually couldn't. His head shook. A sense of strange freedom tingled beneath his scales.
“What are you doing?” He groaned and rolled back onto his side, a sudden hollowness flushing over his muscles. “You can't pass out at the scene of the crime. C'mon. Pull yourself together.” Pressing his knees against the ground, Spike slowly rose, clambering onto his feet once more. “Get the stuff, then get back to your bedroom. Quick.”
Spike tilted his head back to the underside of the cabinet above, so close and yet so far. He swiped a claw into the air, the tips of his talons missing the wood by mere inches. Huffing, he rose onto the tips of his feet as well—still two inches too short.
“I hate this.” Spike huffed while he hunched in place; different tactics were needed for success. “Barely taller than a filly. Heck, I might as well be one at this point.” With a violent shake of his head, he readied himself again, a step against the edge of the counter. “But, a cookie is a cookie.”
Spike pressed his feet against the marble, launching himself into the air with a swipe of his claw at the handle. It latched around it at once, and he held both against it, holding onto it while his feet found purchase, sideways, against the wooden door as it slowly swung open.
“Please hold. Please hold. Please hold.” The words repeated like a phone operator. The dragon inched his head right, past the wooden wall he now clung to and peering inside. What he found made his shoulders drop. “You have got to be—“
The sight of bottles, rather than jars of cookies, was the last thing the dragon saw before he heard the creak of metal. Bolts stripping from the side of the door, its pressure on the left side vanished. It fell free, the dragon as well, it falling left and him back, against the counter, onto the chair, then rolling across the ground.
Spike groaned as his body slid against the polished floor, limbs in pain and lung without air. Mind hazy and eyes dizzy. He laid still, nearly closing his eyes. That couldn't happen. At least, he shouldn't.
“Nnngh.” Spike splayed his arms to the side as the full extent of gravity claimed his body. “I-I'm okay, by the way! No need... to check out the thud... or anything like that...” His head rolled left, eye closing as it rested over the floor. “Not like anyone's here.”
Slowly, he rolled onto his stomach, pushing his chin out and upon the floor, struggling to fight his palms to press against the ground once more. Trying to get up and failing with every wasting second. “Or anyone would care.”
Glinting.
Above. Something glinting. The dragon gazed an eye back over his body, catching the bottle near the edge of the cabinet. Leaning close, over the line—then falling toward him.
“Tck!” At once, he rolled left. The pelting and shattering of glass showered the ground as he continued to roll, seeing shards breaking and shooting all over. It was over within a second. With his body close to a wall, he sat up, leaning his back against it. “This is getting ridiculous.”
Panting. He gazed at the shattered glass only to see no liquid occupying the floor. They'd all been... empty? So they weren't drinks for later. Rather ones already have done and needing to be hidden. Explained why Twilight wasn't here. Not that drinking had been her things until... recently.
“What time is it anyway?” Spike rubbed the back of his head against the wall upon looking up, gazing out the lone window. The glint of the moon was an intense blue. Skies especially dark with little visible stars. “That's not good. She should have been home already.”
Why are you worrying so much? She's finally off and enjoying herself. Don't bug others enjoying what you cannot.
Spike clenched his eyes shut. “I can be a real dick to myself, can't I?”
He silenced the voice. His mind still felt bloated with negativity. Just because you kill the source doesn't mean it ceases to linger in the system. Going to sleep was a joke. Not when Twilight was out late. Safe or not, uncertainty killed him.
“Oh, well.” He pushed a claw against the floor and slowly returned to his feet. Gazing once over at the kitchen, he gave its state a shrug before turning to the door. “Wouldn't kill to have a drink myself.”
Before he left the kitchen, he came to the side of the entry, leaping into the air, smacking the switch down and killing the lights. In the dark, he stumbled, out into the hall and looking for a way out, bumping into plenty of things along the way.
Cold.
Snow lazily fell on the sides of the street, banks of white where there had once been grass, ice licking parts of the path. Overhead, the light of the lamps was strong, fighting broadly against the surrounding darkness.
“Why do I always refuse to wear a jacket?” Spike muttered to himself, claws on either arm, rubbing minuscule warmth onto his scales. He quickly turned from the road to a steady path leading left—right into the two-story building. “Doesn't matter once I get inside.”
He shook his head while the windows of the building glowed orange. Gentle winds blew a frigid touch. Spike shook harder against himself as his feet then quickened toward the door. “T-That's the problem. I forget about how cold it was until I go back out again.”
The opening of the door was a flush of warmth washing over his body like it were steam. The steady heat of the building hugged him like a blanket, holding him while he entered—the winds outside closing the door behind him.
“Now ain't you just somethin' young stuff!” Spike stepped to the side of the door when he heard the voice, quivering in place as he tried adjusting to the heat as quickly as possible. His head kept down, but his gaze picked up, sweeping across the many round wooden tables laid around the tavern—a staircase tucked in the back, starting at the middle of the wall, leading toward the second floor.
“Afraid this ain't no place for younglings, however.” His gaze then swept to the L-shaped counter pressed against the wall to the left. A mare of a lightly tanned coat leaned over the wood, her cheek leaning into her hoof. “Though if you're lost, I suppose I could—“
“Meant to come here,” Spike coughed out. Warmth slowly became the new temperature of his body. Daring to break away from his shivers, he approached the counter and began to clamber upon a stool. “Name's Spike. The dragon? We've met before.”
“Ooooh! That we have, sweetie!” Upon sitting down on the stool, the dragon found a hoof, held out and waiting for him over the counter once he looked up. Slowly, he took it, relishing in the heat of the limb and the softness of the fur. “Twilight's little picker-upper! Sorry I didn't recognize ya, doll.”
“Don't sweat it.” He shook the hoof and then let go, despite not wanting to, fearing for his cold touch. He shifted on the stool, eyes barely over the counter. Getting comfortable... nearly impossible. “Anyone my size is going to get mistaken for a kid.”
“Though you sure ain't one if the stories are to be true.” The mare giggled upon resting her forelegs on the counter, curling around a clean glass left there, pulling it close to the dragon. “Hear you have the ability to keep mares from going crazy. Hard to find guys not causing the opposite.”
“Afraid my superpower is used up in that case.” Spike glanced over his shoulder to the stallions and mares seated at the tables behind him, the general rise of chatter mostly masculine. Not a coat of lavender or a giggle to be found or heard. “Or else Twilight wouldn't be coming here so often.”
He gazed back at the bartender in time to see the glass being filled. Something orange and without frizz. Mostly clear and seeming sweet. Spike looked up at the mare—seeing an even sweeter smile. “She is here, right?”
“You her knight tonight?”
“Too short to wear any armour.”
“Aww,” the mare pushed the glass toward him. “But you're already wearing those fine scales.”
Spike chuckled. “Too small to hold a sword.”
“From what I can tell, those claws can be like daggers—or like something else.” The mare giggled, tipping her muzzle up. “Why don't you try wrapping them around that glass for now.”
Spike did as he was told, raising the drink to his lips, though blinking. “But I haven't ordered anything.”
“On the house! Call it payment for my mistake.” The mare laid her chin on the counter, the rest of her body sinking to render the posture natural... and cute. They were on equal eye level. Her eyes burned a soft scarlet. “As for the taste? I know that tongue of yours pretty well by now.”
“Do you now?” Spike wasn't sure of this other warmth flushing over his body. His wit could always stand any conversation even if he was trembling on the inside. The mare so vast, so long and yet so softly compressed. The fur of her coat... so smooth and so lovely. “Guess we'll have to put that to the test.”
Spike tilted his head and the drink back. The smooth sludge of orange tingled around his tongue as it slowly melted into a sweet, subtly burning alcohol. His eyes rolled back at once, feeling his body loosen from his aching. Warmth, from the inside, flushed through his system.
“I can see I rocked your world right now, didn't I, sug?” The mare continued to watch him, giggles blowing into soft and genuine laughter. “But not the whole thing at once! That's meant to loosen a stallion on his hooves—for you'd it...”
She blinked. Her hooves nearly crossed over her mouth. But the dragon drank down to the half of the glass and gently laid it on the counter. With a gasp followed by a smile, he wiped his wrist against his lips. “Don't worry about it. I don't have a complex. I won't lash out if you call me little.”
“I suppose so,” the mare retreated behind the counter. “But somethin' still doesn't feel awfully right about it.”
Spike shook his head, quickly speaking before awkwardness could settle between them. “So Twilight. She here, or I just miss her?”
“Try your luck on the second floor, hon.” The mare nudged over to the staircase against the wall. Something about her expression changed. The genuine delight fading into something else. “Though 'fraid she's hangin' around the usual crowd.”
Spike's gazed down into his drink.
“...she doin' okay?”
He didn't look up. Simply wrapped his claw around the drink and raised it again. Peering into the liquid, he saw his reflection, not thinking much of it yet caught by it every time. With a quick throwback of the drink, the glass drained until only a quarter remained.
“I suppose she's making up for lost time,” Spike said. “It wasn't like her to catch a party growing up. Now that she's more... celebrated, Twilight's wanting to cut it loose after so many years of being tight.”
“Ya think?”
“She's enjoying the discovery of alcohol as much as she did friendship.” Spike gazed at the mare across the counter, finding it harder to look at her. Something about her charm drew her in. She'd seem so accepting him. But regardless of that, he felt more babied than a proper suitor—not that he thought that far ahead already. “Twilight's going to be a teenager for a little bit longer. She should play a little catch up with it.”
The mare smiled weakly. “And yourself?”
His eyebrows shot up. “How do you mean?”
“You two have been tight for most of your life, isn't that right?” The mare laughed to herself. “Haven't you had some time to loosen up as well?” She covered her mouth with a hoof, letting her gaze dance away. “I could suggest a few activities that'll loosen you up. Given you can last longer than that drink of yours.”
Spike froze. There was a mare standing before him, taller than him still even though he sat on a stool—interested in him. His eyes closed as his mind swirled. What should he say? What should he do? The idea of being with her, listening to the southern drawl of her voice. It caught him. Held him. Something with someone else.
“I'd like something like that,” he said before taking the final swig of his drink, letting it gently rest on the counter again. “But I'm afraid there's still Twilight I have to take care of. Might not have come in with her—but I have to at least leave with her.”
The mare seemed disappointed—though it didn't hurt her smile. “You're a good boy, Spike.”
“I'm not sure about that one.” Spike turned on the stool but did not hop off, still keeping his gaze locked on her. Leaving something like this behind. Why couldn't he simply let his baggage go? “But I feel bad for taking a drink for free. Next time I'm here, if you're... still willing. I could help manage the stock of inventory?”
“I'd sure love the help,” the mare replied, “but don't go off makin' promises when your heart ain't in it, ya hear?”
Spike smiled and nodded, waving and wishing her well, wanting nothing more, of course, to have remembered the mare's name. It'd seemed wrong to forget and even more so to remember. But thoughts like these were useless. Especially when it stopped him from doing.
There were many things the small dragon hated in this life—more than himself, that was—and one of those items was the stairs he currently climbed. They weren't terrible, but tall and broad. He often lifted his foot to where his knee had been to sweep his foot against the next block of wood, the next step.
Only to gaze up and see ten more to go.
Any hope of being a hero, carrying a mare between his arms as he went up or down any stairs had died long ago. Of course. Any mare could take him down the stairs. But that kind of defeated the whole purpose of being a hero. Or a dragon. Heck, even a male.
Spike found a new reason to hate being short every day.
“Sorry, love,” a voice. Deep and with an accent. Dangerous. “But, I don't think that throne of yours can fit every inch of your bottom.” A chuckle that crackled pleasantly to the ears. “You know, my lap, however, has plenty of space for you.”
“Oh? Is that so?” Spike threw his claws onto the final step and the pavement of wood that spanned the second floor, laying his cheek against it while he panted. Through the gaps between wooden bars that supported the bastion, he saw the distant table. Twilight. “See? That's the problem with you stallions.”
Her lavender hoof traced across his chest, slowing over his chiselled chest, which peaked from underneath his coat. Deeply alluring and begging to be touched. Spine groaned, out of breath from his odyssey.
“So strong and muscular.” Twilight leaned back from the barrel she'd been sitting on, the consistent blush on her cheeks illuminated by the lamp set on the table. Drunk. She was drunk and in love. “But also so tight. Mares are broad and made of softness. Afraid there just not enough of you for me.”
That talk. Only drunk. Confidence exaggerated.
“You're a bit of a tall one, ain't you?” The stallion leaned his head to the left, his eyes devouring down her body. Not a detail missed with a perversion unashamed. “Have a feelin' if you take off those metal shoes, you'd lose a few inches.”
Twilight smiled. “Afraid they're not for... elevation.”
“That so?” The stallion grinned back with teeth showing. “How about I show you somethin' that you don't got? Guaranteed evelvation if you take a seat where I please.”
“Oh, my!” Twilight laughed while she leaned back, pushing a foreleg forward while playfully swiping his cheek with a hoof. “Naught colt! Speaking like that while all you're friends are around.”
“Don't you sweat that now.” The stallion patted his thigh. “They may grow jealous of the view—but that don't mean they'll be looking away anytime soon...” He laughed with a deep cough. “Besides, you like all my friends as much as you like me, don't ya? Here here!”
Spike reached the floor, still heaving, but stumbling toward the table. This wasn't a place for her. No, this wasn't a place she would normally come to at all. But she'd missed this scene in her youth. A proper mare instead of a book worm. Quit thinking about your friend like that.
He then opened his mouth... only for no words to come out. His eyes were set on the scene of the stallions and the mare around the table, drunk and in love, each holding up their mugs. Twilight's face squeezed shut while wobbled a little too much on her barrel.
It'd been a long, long time since he'd last seen the mare in euphoria.
“But you know,” the stallion said while lowering his mug, “there's a stall in the back, you know, maybe you and I can talk about the differences about mares and stallions. Maybe a few examinations are in order.”
Twilight wasn't even given a chance to answer.
“Alright! That's enough.” Spike approached the table, sucking in winds as quietly as he could, now very aware of how his eyes reached the side of the table. Craning back his neck, he was just able to see the stallion turning on his seat. “Twilight! It's late enough. C'mon.”
“What's this? A kid here?” The stallion gazed down at him with his head cocked left, shifting in place, spilling droplets of his drank on the dragon's cheek. Without breaking eye contact, Spike wiped the spot. “What's this, princess? You supposed to be babysitting or something.”
“Listen.” Spike dropped his arms to his sides. “I may look like a kid, I may sound like a kid, i may act like a kid—and my relative age in dragon years may still be that of a kid.” He huffed after the long wind of words. “But I assure you I'm not a kid.”
The stallion narrowed his eyes.
“For one reason or another,” Spike continued with a nod of his head, “that I will be more than happy to explain at some different time.” With a grunt, he pushed the tips of his feet against the ground, keeping on them, nearly comically, to see over the table and at Twilight. “For now, Twilight. You're drunk. And need to go home.”
“Ain't that a strange one,” the second stallion, the one on the right side of the table, said. His coat silver and beard white. “Never seen a kid who gives orders to the babysitter. Reckon it's confidence or a temper tantrum?”
Spike crossed his arms while still on the tops of his toes. “Last time I had one of those, I became a giant, rampaging dragon that nearly destroyed the town.” His head then bobbed left and right. “So you can call this raw confidence. Which is what Twilight can't say about anything that happens now because she's drunk.”
He pointed a talon at Twilight, though it didn't come above the table. With a groan, he lifted and placed his elbow on the wood—then pointing at the mare. She watched him, from so high above, a different kind of confusion painted across her expression. “So. Twilight. Care to continue a conversation with these stallions, maybe tomorrow?”
The first, brown coat stallion turned his head to the mare. “This your little brother or something.”
“Brother? No.” Spike slipped his elbow from the table. “Bother? Maybe.” He dropped entirely onto his feet. “Little? Sadly, yes.”
The stallion groaned. Placing his mug on the table, he turned, fully, to face the dragon. “Son, I'm going to give you some advice here.” He leaned down, and then closer. “Listening well?”
Spike closed an eye but nodded his head anyway.
“Get lost.” The stallion rose back at once. “Missy here ain't so far gone that she can't make her own choices. Beautiful mares like to spend their time with lovely stallions. Better than being locked in that castle of hers.”
“She's not locked if she's the one that has the key.”
“I see. Still not grown enough to know how adults speak.” The stallion leaned back on his seat, throwing his hindlegs onto the table. Throwing his forelegs behind his head, he shot a lazy glare at the dragon. “Try this. Go be a little bother somewhere else.”
Spike chuckled. Gazing at his feet, he slowly shook his head. “See? This is what I get for trying to play it nicely at first.” When his head lifted again, it did so, with a small flame burning behind his glowing green eyes. “Twilight's been spending a lot more time in these kinds of areas. I've seen the way she comes home. There's not a chance I'm trusting her alone with you.”
The silver-coated stallion laughed but said nothing. He leaned back in his seat, watching.
“That so? A midget dragon fighting for the honour of his mare?”
“It isn't like that and you know it.” Spike didn't move or back away, look aside of anything like that. He kept still, and tall, gazing but not glaring. “Do you really want to be known of the stallion that took advantage of a princess while she was drunk?”
“'bout time my taxes got me something.”
Spike nearly squinted his eyes. “How does that work? I know you! You're unemployed!”
“Currently,” the stallion spat, “lookin' for work.”
“Then look for work,” Spike replied. “You want to talk with Twilight during the day when she's not drunk? Go for it.” He then shook his head, placing a claw on his chest. “But I'm her friend. And she's coming home now. “
The silver stallion chuckled. “I'm thinkin' the little one is hopin' to strike lucky today.”
The other leaned back into the table, howling in laughter. “You think that's it, do ya?!” He turned his muzzle back toward Spike. “Is that how it is, lad? Defending the drunk mare like a little hero hoping to get invited to her castle?”
Spike's smile receded. “I already told you, it isn't—“
“I think that's enough.”
The voice, feminine, and stronger than all present. All gazes shifted over to Twilight, who, slowly putting down her mug—lost within it for most of the exchange—finally raised her muzzle. “Spike is my assistant. He's just trying to help.”
The brown stallion laughed. “Think he's tryna do more than that love.”
“Certainly an... interesting theory you've got there.” Twilight laughed to herself while lowering her hind legs to the ground, the first pressure of weight upon them, causing her legs to wobble. At once, her foreleg flew forward—settling on the stallion's chest again. “But I much preferred the talks... where those lovely hooves of yours worked over my flanks. Appreciating perfection, you said?”
“Aye.” The stallion wrapped a foreleg around her neck. “Don't know how a perfect mare like you kept to herself for so long. There's an animal beneath those intelligent eyes of yours. Something repressed, caged, denied.” He pulled her close as his drunk warmth breath washed over her cheeks. “It's only recently you filled out, eh? Desperate to take all the willing hooves to explore those curves you never thought had any value?”
“Certainly a mind reader, aren't you?” Twilight leaned in close, going for a kiss—not on the cheeks, but square on the lips, drinking the stallion away. It lasted for a few seconds as the two souls were lost within it. “Mmhmmm.”
Spike blinked. Curling a claw, he turned aside his gaze, fighting the urged to clench his eyes. This was normal. Twilight finally getting out into the social and romantic and sexual world of things. Acceptance. He had to accept this.
Just... not quite in its current form.
“Mmhm! Hehehe, though... I'm rather afraid I trust in my assistant to a fault.” Twilight slipped away from the stallion, his foreleg weak from the kiss. His lips kept parted, the teeth beneath glinting in happiness. “He's not the kind to let me down. So I better trust in him for the moment.”
The stallion was too far gone to say anything for the moment. Spike watched as Twilight came to his side, her barrel at his eyes. Softly, slowly, her coat brushed against him, their contact a little too close. “Though I don't think I was out that late, Spike.”
Spike only sighed. “You can blame me for it when you're waking up tired in the morning.”
They turned around.
“Think she'll be tellin' you that in the same bed?”
Spike closed his eyes. It wasn't worth it. He bit the inside of his cheeks and slowly shook his head. “We're just friends. Best friends. Nothing more!”
“Suppose that's a good thing now, ain't it.” The silver stallion spat to the side. There was a chuckle from him. One... composed of malicious intent. “Cause seein' you two together don't play too straight in my head. I mean, no way he could take you standing up.”
“Easy there!” Twilight coughed. “I might enjoy spending my time with you colts, but you know it's a little far to say something like that.”
“What? You'd never picture it too? Mare your size and height proably used to stallions not able to make it all the way up.” The stallion leaned over the table again, curving his foreleg over his mug. “That boy of yours ain't no hero sweeping you off your hooves. Even my friend here is going to need you to bend your knees together to reach upstairs.”
Twilight laughed in a that was obviously fake. “And what do you mean by that?”
The silver stallion smiled while lifting the mug to his lips. “Sayin' I'm the only stallion here able to look ya in the eyes straight on. Think you can find another guy willing to press that fine body on the ground and keep ya that way? Pressure building all over you. Carried down them steps.”
The brown stallion coughed. “Oi mate. You stabbing me in the chest here?”
“Mare's a princess.” The stallion nudged his chin at Twilight... while Spike's other claw slowly curled. “Round one is to wear her down. Round two will have her feelin' a bit like you.” He then glanced at the dragon. “By the time she's passed out on the floor, the little dragon can sneak in behind and score a round three.”
The other stallion laughed. “Wouldn't need to worry about waking her, would he?”
“She could be standing, with him hanging from her rump, and not feeling anything goin' in.” The silver stallion downed his drink quickly, slamming it against the wood. “Climbing a purple mountain that one. Not much saving a little hero can do, is there?”
“Got a bit of a tongue on him—but that's always what the little ones have.”
Twilight gazed at the stallions. Her head hovering so high above, the corners of her eyes glossy. She held herself, tall and strong—but never still. Her hooves danced in place, and her body did a little shake. “C-C'mon, Spike. Proably paperwork waiting for us back—“
“Getting real tired of you talking about my friend that way.”
Spike knew he'd made a mistake once those words left his lips. His chest burned in fear as the expressions of the stallions changed. The brown one pushed his seat back, taking full interest of the dragon.
“Think you're tough, little hero? Able to conquer that land of mare?” His hindlegs struck the floor, keeping printed there. “Your dick as small as you? Don't think it'll be able to satisfy your friend's—“
He acted. That searing heat beneath his scales blinding his mind into doing. Spike charged forward even when a hoof laid on his shoulder, rushing forward between the stallion's legs and bashing his shoulder into his chair. Sweeping his foot against his right legs, the chair tilted and fell, the stallion rolling his forelegs in the air—before his head slammed against the edge of the table.
His body slammed and banged against the ground, his body writhing against the wood for a moment—until the dragon had climbed over his chest. Planting his feet on either side of his neck, Spike threw his claws against the stallion's cheek—slicing deep and cutting blood.
“Spike!” her voice floated behind him at once, two soft hooves tugging at his shoulders, pulling him off the stallion. His eyes kept closed while he groans, streaks of dug red coursing down his muzzle. “That's enough! You didn't have to do that!”
“Oi! You little brat!” Spike stumbled back from the body upon hearing the voice, at once taking himself out from the two soft, lavender forelegs trying to wrap around his body. Turning, the silver stallion stood next to the table—the height of the banister behind him. “Scratching instead of punching? You're pathetic!”
“Prince of being a little dragon!” Spike growled back while he was hunched forward, shaking his claws while blood splattered from its tips. “I can't beat you guys normal ways! But don't think for a second that's going to stop me from doing anything.”
A voice spoke from behind him. “Spike. Please. Let's go.”
“Little twerps like you are the worst.” The stallion turned and spat once more, keeping his eyes locked on the dragon. “So desperate to be a part of it. You ain't like us. Always such an annoyance that buzzes around simply because you can't fuck your—“
Spike shook his head. “Don't say it.”
“That you can't grab your friend's ass without raising all the way up on your feet,” he chuckled. “Or having to be all the way backed against her fat behind to hope your dick goes more than a few inches in. No way a tiny dragon like you is—“
The stallion looked like he had expected the dragon to charge, though, his expression turned surprised when the small creature leapt at him. Throwing his body against his neck, causing them both to shuffle against the banister—which Spike then gripped, and with a yell boosted by their momentum, pulled them over the edge.
The tremendous crash caught everyone's attention.
Spike had been lying on his back with a dull stabbing in his back when his eyes finally cleared. High above, the muzzle of Twilight hovered in the sky—even further away from him now. She struggled to keep still. Gazing at him with a look... a look that, despite their life spent together, he could never decipher.
And then next to him, the bartender emerged. Concerned and confused. She gazed upon him, mouth opened and whispering nothing. Giving her a smile, he pulled himself from the sliced table. “Y-Yeah... so that complex bit was a lie.”
The cold quickly returned, once the two were booted out the door, the darkness of the sky thicker than before—streetlamps ceasing to burn intensely. Frigid winds did nothing to cool the burning beneath his scales. He limped beside the mare. Struggling to keep up.
“My brave knight in shinning scales! You saved me from those evil stallions.” Twilight kept a foot ahead on the street, stumbling left and right, head swaying all over the place. Her eyes flicked back at him. “Y-You've already saved the maiden! So why don't you—“ she cutely hiccuped “—want to ride on my back?”
“Told you,” Spike started to reply, massaging a palm against his jaw, “I can walk fine myself. You? We'd drive into banks if you walked us both back.”
“Aww! You're not nice.” Twilight pouted with a lowered head. “I'll let you know that I can walk perfectly well! It's just the road that keeps moving. That's the road's fault. Not my fault. Nothing's my fault.”
“Oh yeah? That so?”
“Mhmm!” Twilight giggled to herself silly. Another current struck, one causing her to brace into herself. Spike much did the same but unable to take the pain, enduring the cold with little shelter. “Like you smashing into the table? That's because you decided to show up and charge. I didn't charge off the second floor of a building.”
Spike pressed against his jaw, feeling it click with the increased pressure—but never feeling it pinch back into place. Always feeling slightly off. He sighed. Maybe he could sleep it off if he was lucky. “I didn't like how they were talking about you. You're a princess now. Nopony should be talking about you like that.”
“Naw-uh!” Twilight giggled drunkenly to herself. “It's because they kept calling you tiny and little.” She then stumbled close to the dragon, not leaving an inch between them, her warm coat brushing against his frozen scales. “But that's okay! Because I actually like my guys small. So you're in luck!”
Spike felt his heart crack. “T-Twilight... don't say things like that. Not again.”
“Buh-why not!?” Twilight became caught with a sneeze, one small and soft, adorable in sound followed by incredibly adorable giggling afterward. Celestia, how could a mare be so perfect. So much a mare and so much a filly within the span of seconds? “I already told you that—“
“You already told me a lot of things—when you're drunk.” Spike shook his head as his left leg throbbed in pain. He fell behind the mare while her flanks came rising overhead, shifting past him, then pausing. The length of her frame seemed to go on forever. “It's good you're f-finally enjoying yourself as a mare. B-But all of this... it's too much.”
Twilight leaned her muzzle around her barrel. “Shpike, you're f-freezing.”
“J-Just until we get home.”
“Why won't you ride my back?” Twilight voice still slurred, but there was something more behind those words. “Y-You used to do it all the time.”
“Yeah! When I was actually a baby dragon.”
“But we both know you're not a baby dragon anymore,” she replied. “You don't have anything to prove.”
“And I'm not trying to prove anything!”
“So why won't you ride my back?”
“Because I don't need to!”
Twilight sighed. Shaking her head lightly—something which she quickly groaned at—she dipped her head. “Riiight. You sliced a stallion's face and charged another off a floor because you don't have anything to prove about your height.”
Spike stuffed his claws underneath his arms, hugging tighter onto himself—suppressing a yell at pressing upon a bruised spot. “But I took them on and won! Everyone knows my h-height doesn't matter that much.”
“Of course! After you proved that to be the case when you took those stallions down.” Twilight sighed. “I already know what you're capable of. You didn't have to do that for me. That was done for yourself.”
Spike was already shaking his head before she was done, though, despite this, he still stepped next to the tower of her hindleg. Warmth radiated from her body, the softness of her lavender fur calling to soothe his wounds. But he wouldn't touch her. Not even with that glorious, bubbly flank above.
“It wasn't like there was anything else I could do.”
“How about letting me take control of the situation? Maybe saying whatever it would take for them to get lost? Face it. You wanted to do all that to prove something.” Twilight sighed again, and this time, it bore more weight. “Now it's cold. And you're hurt. There isn't any shame in hugging my neck for a few minutes—is there?”
Spike wanted to fight it some more. He hated himself. Hating how it was her, drunk as she was, needing to carry him back home. That it was her giving warmth, heat, and safety. It should have been the other way around. But that was no reason to hate or deny her.
“Alright. Fine.” Spike stepped next to her barrel. It was the only colour in the dark night. More harsh winds blew, and her barrel dropped, low enough for him to climb on. The cool fuzz comforted him as he came onto her back—lying his own against the back of her head, feeling her mane fall over him nearly like a blanket.
And so they walked. Through the night. Heads together but mouths silent. Say something. Spike knew he should say something, anything, but could find nothing to discuss. He felt lousy for what he did, not because of what he did to those stallions.
But because Twilight was right, and he was trying to prove something.
“Did I ever tell you what happened between Rarity and me?”
Her head rose higher against his own. Those words altered her. “That's one way to start a conversation, Spike.”
He groaned. “You wanna hear it or not?”
“Always.”
Spike sighed. He leaned his head harder against her mane, the coldness in the air able to be tasted. But even here, snuggled against the mare, her smell had become palpable. Frozen strawberries tinged in the wind. “I finally got the guts to ask her out a few months back.”
“You did?” He could feel her blinking. “You didn't say anything about it. Or act much differently for the matter. Nothing that—“
“Because nothing came from it, and it would change nothing.” Spike exhaled a long breath, one filled with weight. “Figured it was time to give it a shot. Went right over and asked her out. I was... finally older, you know?”
Twilight giggled herself silly. “Legal too.”
He lazily smacked a claw against her back. “You quit that.”
They both chuckled. Though weight hung on the edge of their delight. Spike gazed across the striding back of the mare, eyes becoming caught by her tail, of the two lavender globes shifting in tight movements. “Knew I had to give it a shot at least once. And she heard me out.”
Twilight's voice rumbled through her body, holding him slightly while she spoke. “I take it didn't go well?”
“Went as well as it could.” Spike cleared his throat and diverted his gaze, knowing they didn't deserve to lie on such a place. “She turned me down with tact. Thought... it'd been because I was a dragon. That, I could understand.”
“But?”
“But she didn't didn't mind that fact at all.” Spike closed his eyes and didn't breathe for a while. “What she did mind was not having a guy who, at his tallest, could kiss her chin at best. I don't blame her for that. Most of her romantic fantasies... involve someone taller, stronger, bigger.”
“You know that doesn't change your value in the slightest.” Twilight's head turned slightly toward him, ensuring her voice would be heard above the winds. “I know we may have just had a fight. But you being small doesn't change your worth at all.”
“If only most mares thought like that, Twi.”
“I do.” She then laughed. “And that bartender did too.”
Spike blinked as he turned his head around. “You heard about that?”
“Watched it from the second floor.” Twilight coughed. “Thought my little assistant was going to get cuddled in another mare's bed. You know that's where she wanted you, right? Some mares like the small ones more.”
“I'm not a toy.”
“Difference is in acting like a toy and being a toy, Spike.” Twilight turned her head forward again. “Your thing with Rarity is done now, right? You found another mare that liked you enough to invite you behind the counter. You should have gone for it.”
“I can't.”
“And why not?”
“Because there's another mare.”
“Aren't you just the littlest lover boy.”
“This one came first.”
“Came first?”
Spike's eyes blasted open as his body heated by itself. Heart racing and sweat lacing across his limbs, he turned around at once—the dim silhouette of the crystal castle looming before them now. At once, he pointed to it. “Look! We're home! Straight now, Twilight, not left or right, but straight!”
His humour didn't garner a response as the mare took them to the entrance of the castle.
They entered the castle with a gentle flick of the lights, the beating of wind slamming against the door. The clacking of hooves and feet resounded from the floor as Spike hopped off the mare, groaning while he did so, his injured leg beyond sore.
“You may want to be careful in the kitchen.” Spike teased his foot against the ground, gradually applying pressure to test when the muscle beneath would start to scream. “Might have left a bit of a mess when—“
Something soft smacked against him, picking him up and pushing him against the wall, gently, but persistently. With a shake of his head, he gazed up at Twilight—suddenly fearful of the way she towered over him.
“Who's the other mare?”
He blinked. “That? It's no one special—“
“You s-said she was your first!” Twilight dropped her muzzle to his eye level, keeping it there. She hiccuped, blushing, but keeping in his face. “Who?!”
“I meant first as in after Rarity!”
“Is that the truth?”
Spike pushed his head against the wall, feeling her muzzle hover over his chest, each of her drunken exhales washing over his scales. She was dangerously seductive at the moment. Turning his head—a hoof only pulled him back.
“Well? Is it?”
Spike inhaled sharply through his snout, eyes glaring right... before closing altogether. Every part of him felt defeated. Angry at himself and at this mare. All without reason. Good reason against her. “Fine. You know who it is.”
Twilight's eyes burned violet and violent. “You said you didn't feel anything back!”
“Because I didn't!”
“You just said—“
“I've always loved you, Twilight! You're always the mare I'll be loyal to.” Spike fought to open his eyes, struggling to keep them open. Tons of emotional weight begged for them to stay shut. “You've always been the one. I-I thought I could escape that with Rarity. But even then, I was always thinking about you.”
“So I'd been right all this time! You lied to me! Twice when I wanted to know, and when I asked you—“
“You're my one, Twilight!” Spike shouted, not meaning to, for anything else would have torn itself apart. “You'll always be my one! I'm okay with that! You're great. You're perfect and adorable. Being near you, helping you, it's all enough for me. That I can take.”
Twilight shook her head slowly with her eyes still narrowed, jabbing her snout against his chest. “And when I left my door open to you that night?”
Spike inhaled deeply, air mixed with her drunkness, holding it in for a moment—before finally releasing. “You're my one, Twilight. Even if we're not together... I can handle that. But... b-but... being just anyone to you...”
Twilight blinked. Her muzzle drew back to its great perch in the sky. From high above, she looked down at him. Gazing, judging, reflecting. “I see. So that's what you've been worried about? That you would only go for me—but that I would pick anypony? That you wouldn't be any different to me than them?”
“I know that I'm special in your heart, but—“
“Zip it.”
Spike shivered in place.
“Spike, is that what you think this is? Me finally enjoying my life as a mare with whomever I please? That I would be boiled down to something so basic.”
Spike muttered something that only its sound could be heard.
“You were just talking about height doesn't stop you from being a proper male.” Twilight's head swayed in place, but her gaze always kept fixated on him. “If you're going to say something, say it loud enough for everyone to hear.”
“Y-You... kissed that stallion like it was nothing.”
“I did, didin't I?” Twilight laughed to herself, muzzle pulling back from the air blown. It was beyond fake, made purely from how pissed she was. “Let me ask you something. Do you think my personality changed simply because I started to act more like a mare? Enjoying myself loosely because I've never got the chance to be this way?”
Spike knew it was wise not to answer.
“Wanna know why I kissed that stallion? To see exactly what changed with every guy I interacted with.” Twilight lowered her muzzle once again, and this time, in angered passion. Everything she said and did, despite the anger flowing around it—a strange sort of intensity was beneath it all. “With that stallion, I kissed him to see how my body would react. I learned what a kiss with someone I liked but didn't care much for felt. That, when I was drunk, how different those uncaring kisses would feel like.”
Spike's voice croaked with his next words: “You're... experimenting with all this?”
“Of course I am! How else am I supposed to come to a proper conclusion on my findings?” Her muzzle then drove forward, enough for her lips to inch against his chin. She blew. Warm air heating his scales. “And you're going to be my last experiment. Because, guess what, Spike? You are small, and little, and unlike those stallions. I want you to be the one to tell me if there's a difference between these.”
His mouth opened, and then was closed by lips fuzzy and soft, plush and slender. They simply shut him up. The fact Twilight Sparkle, a princess and mare as perfect as she had kissed him being enough. Though, as quickly as she started, the mare pulled away. “That's a kiss for someone that interests me.”
Then her muzzle dove in again, and though Spike raised his claws to push her away... found them frozen in the air. This kiss found her lips rubbing against his own, bringing some life to the act—before she pulled away once more. “That's a kiss for someone that I like.”
Her lips retook his. Wet smacks and little moans followed. The heat of her body rose, an invisible ball of heat floating close to him. Her eyes nearly closed, their sincerity all his face could see. Then she pulled away—barely. “That was for someone I enjoy. But this? This is for the boy I feel something different than all the rest.”
Twilight kissed him. Her eyes closed, and her hoof lifted, sliding around his neck to hold him close. Her lips worked against his, their fuzz rubbing his own. The way they suckled on him, demanding his hardness work back on them. An interaction that filled him, that made that claw reach to her cheek, stroking the spot, indulging in the softness and the warmth.
“That.” Twilight broke away as a bridge of saliva followed her mouth, something she wiped with the hoof she pulled back. “That was a kiss I could have only given to you. Those stallions were just testing because you said no.”
Spike wasn't sure what to say, what to do, only that the urge to cry was strong as his body tore itself apart. Being able to turn his head, he gazed to the side, unable to stare at the mare who caught him, the one that he loved so very much. “But I can never be like those stallions, Twilight. I can't sweep you off your hooves or save you from danger. Everything that the guy is supposed to do—“
“And when have I ever asked you to act like that?”
Spike shut his mouth at once.
“This whole time. The whole time! You were so worried what I would say or do, that somehow, you wouldn't be good enough.” Twilight shook her head. She was hurt. It flared through her tone and her words—even through her anger. “But that was all you, Spike. Feeling you weren't tall or strong enough for me. I never wanted that. It's you who thought I did.”
Twilight jabbed her hoof into his chest, lightly, seeming like she wanted to do more... but just not having the strength to do so. Not after giving so much of herself away during that kiss. That something she wanted so dearly... had been denied for the silliest of reasons.
“I'm... going back to my bedroom now.” Twilight shook her head as she turned around, the strands of her tail flicking his body. He groaned underneath his breath, knowing he should have been watching it while she left. But he was weak... in more ways than stature. “The door's closed this time. This drunk, slutty mare needs to sleep everything off.”
That wouldn't be the case.
Spike knew it the second she sped off, hearing the pelt of a tear consumed by the clattering of her racing hooves. Within seconds a brilliant light flashed. The seconds after that, she was gone, inside her room, alone once more.
It took seconds for him to breathe again. Moments for him to move. And minutes for him to walk down the hall again. He went and continued, not bothering searching for a light, the dim glow of the moon barely leading the way.
And then he reached it. The two doors parrel in the hall. Two separate bedrooms for the duo that used to share one. He reached his door, having to reach up to grab his handle, but not pulling on it. His tired body begged for his bed; his exhausted mind cried for his eyes to shut.
And more than that, his soul, his cowardice, begged for this night to be over.
But even still, the short dragon gazed over his shoulder, at the door where Twilight was behind, silent. It was only now, while the moment was still ongoing, that he could fix and change things. The moment the status quo struck in the morning, there could be no changing what happened in the night.
With a sigh, the short, cowardly dragon made his choice.