A Slight Cookie Addiction
You hear something smash in the other room.
You groan and put your newspaper down on your coffee table. Right on cue.
The following crash makes it pretty damned clear what’s going on. Especially the following few thumps.
You take the opportunity to give a hearty stretch and take a deep breath. You’re going to need it.
You hear a yelp in the other room, along with the sound of your trap snapping into place.
You can also hear an attempt at the application of magic, which goes nowhere quickly. You can also hear desperate, non-focussed attempts to magically manipulate your magically-inoculated cookie jar. Air-raid alarm to warn you included.
You sigh and take a brisk jog into your kitchen.
Yep. It’s Sweet Biscuit. You’re as surprised as ever. This definitely wasn’t the hundred-eightieth-and-a-half (long story) time this had happened or anything.
Though interestingly enough, she learned enough to try and swing towards your cookie jar on the counter instead of desperately going for magic every time.
You knock on the archway’s frame and give her a disappointed look.
She yelps, and stops trying to swing towards your counter. Mainly so she can desperately hold her tail in front of her, and try to hide her face behind it.
With a sigh, you move to your counter and relocate your cookie jar to the top of your cupboards before moving over to her. If the jar was any closer to the edge, she might’ve gotten to it. But alas, it was perfectly placed to be out of reach.
You had to ask AJ for a lot of favours to teach you how to set up this trap, but it was pretty damned efficient. You have no clue how that mare knows every path a pony will take to steal a cookie jar, but you don’t really want to know the answer either.
It just works.
Magic-resistant rope is a beautiful thing. The ultimate bane of unicorns.
Oh, right. She’s upside-down.
You sigh as you get to her side. She looks mortified and is making every attempt to twist herself in the opposite direction.
You counter that with a single hand on her side, forever dooming her to face you.
She’s trying to curl up so she can hide under her tail- but she can’t keep it for long before gravity reminded her of her precarious situation.
You squat down and stare her right in the eyes.
“Care to explain why I need to get my window repaired for the fortieth time this year?”
She closes her eyes, and you can visibly see her start to get red. “N-no...”
“Do I need to call the ponice?”
“N... no...”
“Okay then.”
...
She tries to turn her head away, but you move it back. You leave your palm on her cheek, just to make sure she doesn’t start to overheat or anything.
If it wasn’t necessary, you would have preferred to have her hanging some way that was more comfortable- but AJ was the authority on this subject.
“It’s broad daylight. Why didn’t you go to Sugarcube Corner?”
She starts to tear up.
“It’s closed.”
“Why?”
“Pinkie’s out solving a friendship problem, and the Cake’s are in Canterlot for the next few weeks.”
“Fair, fair...”
You take a glance at your kitchen window. The frame in the middle is lying on your floor, and the glass is just gone. Fuck, you might have to call AJ for that job.
You’re going to owe her enough favours to the point that she could realistically ask you to assassinate a princess or something.
“Why didn’t you just knock?”
“I wasn’t sure you were home...”
“So you broke in, just in case?”
The gears start to turn in her head, and you can feel her temperature go up a few degrees.
She doesn’t answer you.
...
You sigh and turn around, pressing an elbow under her belly before pushing backwards, getting her back into a natural position (though elevated) and giving you free rein over the ropes tied around her hind-legs.
As usual, you can’t help but grumble over the fact that you’re used to this.
After her legs are freed, she tries to wiggle off your shoulder. You’re too quick for her though, and you rather easily tuck an arm over her tail. It’s not a tall order to hook another arm around her back and to start to hold her like a child.
She wiggles into the usual side-to-chest position she seems to feel is comfortable, letting you readjust your arm over her tail. And because she knows it’s uncomfortable as all hell- she nudges her muzzle into your neck, poking the bottom of your head with her horn.
One of these days she’s going to kill you by doing that. Probably to raid your kitchen for hidden cookies, being honest.
It’ll happen at Christmas- that isn’t even a question by this point.
“Okay. So why in god’s name did you break into my house to steal my cookie jar again?”
She whines, trying to dodge any questioning. Or to gather sympathy. Something like that- she did this every ten tries or so.
“Answer the question and I’ll get you a cookie.”
One of her ears perks up. You obviously got her attention.
“I baked double-chocolate with cocoa-beans last night- they’re fucking delicious. If you behave, I might decide to heat it up, too.”
She’s almost in the palm of your hands- both ears are up, and the muscles in her back are tensing up.
“Did I mention that I made them much bigger than usual? I mean, there’s a reason why the jar’s covered in paper!” Okay, the real reason is anti-magic runes, but that’s a secret you’re bringing to the grave, “I can’t just have anypony on the street coming in. I mean- man, let me tell ya’, Pinkie’s been bothering me for the recipe for weeks!” That’s actually true, not an attempt to bullshit the pony in your arms. “You should be happy I’m offering- these are limited-supply, a November exclusive!”
Her breathing gets a tad bit funny, and you can feel the conflict in her heart. Though she’s not quite there yet, somehow.
“Okay, let me make this easier. You can tell me a bullshit reason that I’ll accept for now, and you get a cookie as-is. And then later if you’re behaving- and fix my window with your magic for that matter- I’ll heat you up another one. Whipped cream, too. Two for two confessions, deal?”
You give her a moment to ‘think over it’ as you move through your kitchen. You can’t help but let out a small laugh when she anticipates you taking the arm from her back to grab the jar, and curls her hooves around your neck.
Once you’ve gotten the jar, you pause for a moment.
“I’ll heat the first one if you do the window now. No cream for the bullshit reason, though.”
“... You promise?”
“I can’t bullshit on Sundays, it’s against my religion.”
She lets out a snort of laughter, giving you every indication that she can’t keep herself moody for long.
“Last’ time I was here, you ranted about throttling the princesses- who you referred to as ‘goddesses’ by the way- while rambling on about how ‘religion is dumb.’”
“Yep, that sounds like me. But who knows, maybe I’m just dumb?”
She gives out a proper laugh, pulling herself up to rest her muzzle against the side of your neck- thankfully not making your head a skewer in the process.
“I mean, you are dumb. But you’re not that dumb.”
“Ask Twilight if I’m dumb if you ever pass her, she’d disagree.”
A wild horn jabs itself into the side of your head, and Sweet gives out a disgruntled snort.
“Less self-deprecation. More cookies.”
“Alright, alright- cookies addict.”
“Hey, you’re the one who keeps saying ‘see you next time,’ and you deal with me!”
“That’s only because you never listened when I told you to stop breaking in!”
“Shut up and get me a cookie!”
“Fix my window first!”
With another snort and a short burst of magic, your window literally teleports itself back together.
To say you’re surprised is putting it very lightly. Models weren’t particularly well known for their high-level magics in Equestria.
“Holy shit- Twilight teach you that?”
She leans her head back to give you a cocky grin, “Actually, Fleur showed it to me!”
“Wait, Fleur?”
“Yep!” By all accounts, she practically begins to glow. “I got a job modelling in Canterlot- that’s why I was gone for the week! Basically, every big name was there- and I mean, even if I wasn’t the star of the show, I got to go on stage with tons of big stars!”
That takes a moment to process in the ol’ brain centers.
“Wait... you got a show job?”
“Mhmm!” She pulls herself back towards you, nuzzling into the nape of your neck. “They called in seamstresses, models, photographers, and even some big names- like the princesses- in from all over Equestria for a big show to celebrate the changing of seasons up in Canterlot.”
Holy shit.
“Wait, that doesn’t quite explain the Fleur thing though-”
“Oh, right. Well-uh, she actually...” She starts to heat up a bit. “When we were getting ready, she picked me out to fill a spot on the stage for the opening. Afterwards, she flagged me down and... said I did well. She invited me out to lunch the next day, and showed me a few things.”
She takes a noticeable pause and hesitates for a moment. “I... may or may not have broken one teacup too many at a cafe while we were out. So, y’know...”
...
“How- Why didn’t I hear about this show?!” you can’t help but wonder out loud, finally making progress in turning on your oven.
“I dunno! They sent out a newsletter about it, so why didn’t you get-”
“Derp horse.”
Sweet pauses, then lets out a sigh as she uses a hoof to massage her temples.
“It would’ve been nice for you to be there. I could’ve shown you around the city.”
“Yeah, it probably would’ve. Well, shit.”
You fidget a bit to grab a roll of foil and awkwardly use an elbow to tear off a piece big enough to support a cookie or two.
The oven goes off just in time for you to ratchet a couple of cookies out of the jar, onto the foil, and then a baking sheet.
Sweet Biscuit takes the opportunity to clamber off of you, but only after it would’ve been useful to have two hands.
She sticks her tongue out at you and you reply in kind, along with a totally-not-childish “MMBLEHH.”
She returns with an equally childish noise, which you throwback with increased volume after you’re done inserting the baked deliciousness into the cave of heat-ness.
She gives up before it goes anywhere, and sits back to watch the glow of the oven. Man, do you love the cozy little cottages Ponyville offers.
You do much the same after you close the door and set the timer.
Nothing will beat classic heating- you’re thankful on so many levels that microwaves aren’t exactly close to being invented properly in Equestria.
Or serious applications for electricity in general.
...
“So what, is this my punishment? Getting you a cookie or two?”
“No, we can discuss that later.”
You just roll your eyes at that and plop yourself down onto the tile floor next to her.
“Alrighty then. Anyways, BS reason number one.”
“That’s against my religion.”
You lean over and flick her horn, which elicits a small ‘hiss’ from her.
“Fine! I’m starving!”
Her stomach growls in comical timing, affirming the bullshit.
“Alrighty then. Real reason?”
She gets up to give herself a hearty stretch, and circles your kitchen a few times. You can only throw her a few bemused glances as she smirks back at you.
The smirk becomes all too foreboding as she takes your lap as her throne once she was done stretching herself out.
“... You totally knew I was here, and you wouldn’t have broken in otherwise.”
“Maybe not, maybe so. Who knows?”
“Let me guess- if you knew about the cookies I made before-”
“Oh yeah, definitely. I’m a sucker for cocoa-beans, but you already knew that.”
You sigh and shake your head slowly a couple of times.
Her grin comes back, and she’s all too happy to lean back into you, stealing your precious body heat.
“Fucking ponies!”
She lets out a few giggles as she starts to bounce in place.
Man, what’d you do to deserve knowing her?
Some questions are better left unanswered, probably.
...
“Hey, Anon?”
She turns around to meet your gaze, smiling all the way.
“Yeah?”
She leans in to give you a kiss on the cheek.
“It’s nice to see you.”
With a little chuckle, you pull her in for a hug.
“It’s nice to see you too, Sweets’. Remember to drag me along next time- I’ve got nothing more interesting going on back home than indulging in baked goods and gossipy newspapers.”
She giggles, and nuzzles you proper. “Nah, if I leave you here I have every excuse in the world to steal your sweets and steal your attention.”
That brings out a good laugh from both of you.
----
Inevitably, the oven’s timer went off as it decreed ‘the time to enjoy company’ over, and ‘the time for sweets’ to have began.
Even if neither of you were in a hurry to get up, the promise of slightly-melty double-chocolate with cocoa-beans was too much, and both of the sweets-addicted beings in the room were on their feet.
Of course, you don’t hesitate to throw the oven open and to extract the baked deliciousness within.
And it’s glorious. Years of baking in this mystical land- and they were perfectly reheated.
You could practically smell the molten core underneath the perfectly-charred sides of chocolate.
It would have to cool for a moment, however. Otherwise, the cocoa-beans might kamikaze their way out of the core. And that wouldn’t do at all.
Sweet Biscuit makes impatient sounds, but you send her the international signal of ‘wait for 5 fucking seconds’ with your index finger.
It actually takes about thirty seconds, but that doesn’t matter after tactically-positioned paper towel and perfectly-applied whipped cream is added to the mix.
She'd better be happy you added that whipped cream, and chicken out.
Sweets does her best to steal them both away from you via magic, but you lay your claim on one in the classic way- by sticking your tongue onto it.
She huffs once, but only takes the unclaimed one away from your other hand. “What, I’m not getting them both for spilling the beans?”
“Dessert. Later.”
She throws you a glance before gesturing towards the clock with her horn- which reads about 4pm- which you return flatly.
“I’ve dealt with you more than enough times- you don’t run into things when you drop into the room. I heard a few thumps. Oh, and when you went around my kitchen a few times, I noticed those.”
You casually point towards a few suitcases that were haphazardly ‘hidden’ in the corner of your kitchen, by the window.
“You don’t have a hotel room, otherwise you would have dropped them off. You’re super paranoid about keeping your stuff in a safe place, and you’d never leave them outside just to see me. You’d have to stop at your hotel first, just in case. So in other terms- you were planning to crash for the night. Ergo, you can wait until dessert to claim your prize.”
She stares at you dumbfounded for a moment.
“Hey- I’m not dumb. You said so yourself.”
You take a bite out of your cookie, and casually return the cookie jar to the top of your cupboards.
“I… Well if I don’t have to ease you into it-”
“If I said no, you’d steal the jar on the way out.”
She blushes at that but does her best to hide it behind a bite of baked deliciousness.
It only intensifies after she takes a moment to taste it.
“By Celestia-”
“I said that even Pinkie was after my recipe, didn’t I?”
She scarfs the rest down in the least modelesque way. You can only laugh.
“More.”
“Dessert.”
She knows she won’t win the argument (or ensuing fight,) so she takes the only other option available to her.
She huffs unhappily and extends her hooves for upsies.
Knowing her tricks all too well, you just stare at her and use the time to finish your own cookie.
Every bite only makes her more huffy. And by the gods, it was adorable.
You simply say “Nice try” once you’re done, but ultimately fulfill her request for human-based transport.
After all, it just meant free snuggles.
That doesn’t mean she doesn’t rest her head on your shoulder like a dog deprived of treats- but returning the gesture from earlier with a kiss to the cheek is enough to leave her struggling to force a smile away.
That was way too easy.
“How long are you staying in town, anyway? Should I get the guest room settled?” You decide to veer off-topic as you bring her into your living room, sending the newspaper from earlier a passing glance as you settle down onto your couch.
As per usual, she doesn’t react until you slip your shoes off and kick yourself over to lay on the couch. But of course, she then takes every opportunity to roll onto her back and stretch out in contentment.
“Mmmmno.” She replies ever-so-intelligently as she wiggles her head up next to yours.
“No what? You’re not staying in town?”
“Two months.”
And thus, her ulterior motives came into light.
“So that was a useless no, then?”
“Mmmmno.”
“Then what was it, then?”
“Mmmmno.”
You put great exaggeration in groaning and rolling your eyes, before inching a hand towards her.
“Answer the question, or this can get real’ ugly, real’ quick.”
She can see every scenario coming from a mile away, but she still tests your resolve.
“Mmmmno.”
You respond in turn by starting to drum your fingers against her side.
You can see her grin start to grow from the corner of your eye.
“You gonna tell me what that ‘no’ is for, then?”
“Mmmmmmmmno.”
Your fingers start the march of death for her chest. The one place no pony wasn’t ticklish.
“Are you gonna say anything other than ‘no’?”
“Mmm-”
You don’t offer her the chance to rebel and make to defile the chest-floof.
It’s immediately effective, and she’s wriggling in your arms.
It doesn’t take much more than a few seconds for her to start giggling, and to cry out several half-hearted ‘stop’s.
Of course, that only necessitates an increase in magnitude. And another hand.
You rule this house. You get to decide who goes where.
“N-no, st-stahp!”
“Why would I do that, you’re not even answering basic questions?”
She starts kicking her hooves uselessly into the air.
“F-fine ah’ll tell you!”
“You prooomiiiseeee?”
“Y-yesh!”
You immediately stop all assaults, leaving her wiggling in place for five seconds before she realized what happened. Probably because you were still leaving your hands there juuuuuust in case.
You certainly got a huff for that, but it was more than worth it.
She quickly takes the opportunity to flip herself over onto your chest.
“Fine! No guest rooms! That’s it, where all the noes go!”
“Where’re you going to sleep then?” You can’t help but pursue it with a shit-eating grin.
She lets out a massive groan and wiggles herself back into a position where she can ‘hide’ herself under your chin. And, y’know, threaten to impale your poor head.
“You know where.”
“The couch?”
A hoof hits your leg with enough force to bruise it.
If you weren’t used to that, you might’ve done more than mouth “ow” to yourself.
“With the one pony I trust.”
“Pony, huh? Celesti-”
She hit a lot closer to a dangerous place that time.
It obviously showed on your face, judging by her grin.
“Jeez, fine. Sure. Steal my body heat, see if I ca-”
Sweets’ chooses that exact moment to shut you up using the single most effective way she’d learnt throughout the years.
A simple, sweet kiss.
Something you returned, of course.
…
“Joke about the couch again, and that’s where you’re sleeping.”
It’s your turn to pout this time. “Aww, you’re no fun.”
She kisses you again. “Yep, that’s me! A good old, no-fun plain biscuit.”
“If you make that kind of pun again, I’m locking you out.”
“Your window may or may not attest to that working.”
“I can try, at least.”
She starts giggling again, something you can’t help but follow along with, and starts to climb off of you.
“I’ll be back in a moment. Just gotta go throw my stuff in a different corner.”
“Mhmm.”
You get up and move to follow her.
You’re not an idiot. You know where she’s going.
“You can wait here, y’know? Get comfortable.”
“Like you’ll get comfortable with the cookie jar?”
She pulled all of the stops and starts a mad dash towards your fucking kitchen.
“HEY! GET BACK HERE!”
You pursue.
“NO!”
“IF I GET IN THERE AND YOU’VE JUST TAKEN A BITE OUT OF EVERY COOKIE AND PUT THEM BACK AGAIN, WE’RE GOING TO HAVE SOME PROBLEMS!”
“I CAN’T HELP IT! I’VE GOT A SLIGHT COOKIE ADDICTION!”
"'SLIGHT' MY ASS!"