> Working In (and other moments)
>  by Nonchalant
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> Working In
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Twilight blinked, running a hoof up her mane--right where the bright magenta streak met the purple. She sighed, and turned her eyes back to the book in front of her. The outdated theory of magical thermodynamics was just begging to be updated. She skimmed over her own notes again and picked up at the passage she’d just left off. 

“I never should have let my class convince me to do extra credit lectures on advanced magical theory…” she grumbled, as she had done religiously for the past two weeks that she’d spent on the matter. First she’d just been compiling materials, but then she’d realized just how much her own application of Harmony Magic had shifted the modern understanding of the subject. The ensuing ten days had been full of revisions, and entire notebooks scrapped and incinerated in frustration. The ashes still lay in a bin inside her crystalline office.

Finishing another passage, Twilight looked up again; she’d already begun to develop persistent cricks in her neck from all the poring over books she did. She took in the slightly unfamiliar decor, the fabrics draped along the walls, and the unobtrusive-yet-stylish wallpaper that covered the room. Rarity’s workroom in the Carousel Boutique was oddly quiet without the fashionista’s regular humming and the soft purring of her favourite sewing machine. Even so, it was perfect. Twilight had gotten more done in the three days since she’d relocated her late-night binge-studying to the Boutique than the whole week prior. 

As if summoned by her thoughts, Rarity stepped through the door. Two mugs of steaming hot cocoa floated in her magic, and one made its way to Twilight’s side. She looked away from the white unicorn and accepted it gratefully. 

Rarity herself sauntered back to her workstation, a spring in her step that hadn’t been present ten minutes prior when she’d excused herself quietly. “Back to it, Twilight!” she trilled, “my walk has left me most refreshed, and the snow outside was truly inspiring.” She started up her machine, too focused to notice Twilight’s content little hum at the sound. “I do hope I didn’t distract you, dearest.”

Twilight blew gently on her cocoa (extra marshmallows, she noticed) and smiled. “Not at all, Rarity! I was stretching for a bit just when you came in,” she said. “Thanks for the drink! It’s exactly what I needed to continue working at peak efficiency!” They both giggled. 

“In that case, I shan’t distract either of us any longer!” Rarity rolled her head gently a few times. “We do have other obligations in the morning, too.” 

Without another word, the two nodded and got back to work. The room was filled with the steady drone of a sewing machine, punctuated by the light, almost happy scratching of a quill. Less often, as if to accent the symphony, a page would turn or a book would close. Twilight’s ears perked back up any time that Rarity stopped her machine, looking up at the disturbance of her background noise, but neither said anything. Every so often, a soft pulse of magic would travel from one pony’s horn to the other, to be reciprocated a moment later. ‘I’m still here’, they said, and never interrupted. It was a little habit they’d picked up to satisfy the need to show some affection to each other without distracting either of them from their work.

The silence was unbroken for another two hours, when Twilight got up to stretch her stiff wings and looked at the clock. If it was right, the time was a bit past three thirty in the morning. It was right, too. Twilight had made sure of that when she’d come in that evening. Looking over at Rarity, she noticed that the designer was staring intently at two pieces of fabric, the sewing machine still filling the air with its constant, comforting purr. 

Walking up to her, Twilight whispered. “Hey, Rares?”

There was no answer, save for a slight falter in her humming. Twilight shook her head and walked back to her nook to store her ink and parchments. Once that was all safely in a saddlebag and the books were organized in the space Rarity had gifted her for that purpose, she moved back to the hyper-focused unicorn. This time, she trailed her wing softly down her back. “Hey, Rarity?” she tried again. 

This time, it worked. Rarity sat up with a delighted shiver, and turned to look at Twilight. “What is it, darling? I was rather in the zone there.”

Twilight snickered slightly. “Certainly some zone, I guess. If you call staring at two pieces of cloth for five minutes with your machine running a zone.” She reached over and flicked the machine’s power switch herself, letting the room fall beautifully, captivatingly silent. That was enough to catch Rarity’s attention. 

“I suppose there’s a point where working at night isn’t helpful anymore, isn’t there?” Rarity shook her head. 

“You seem to get there around three forty-five, I think,” the alicorn pointed at the clock. 

“So I do, it appears.”

“In that case,” Twilight began hesitantly, “is it time to sleep, then?”

Rarity pretended to think it over for a moment, as if they hadn’t had the same exchange for the last three nights. “It is, at that,” she said, “would you care to spend the night?”

“I couldn’t…”

“Nonsense! You’ve already been here for more than half of it. Think of the rest as… rounding, if you will.” Rarity tried for a winning smile, but with her mane out of sorts and her eyes blinking sleepily it only came off as adorably endearing to Twilight. 

Twilight fluffed up her wings and nuzzled Rarity. “I can’t argue with that logic, then,” she agreed. “Thanks.”

“No problem at all! You’re always welcome here,” Rarity assured, “and in fact, it’s been nothing short of perfect to share these late work sessions with somepony else.” The two left the workshop and walked to Rarity’s room on the far side of the second floor. “I trust you know the way to your accommodations from here?” she asked.

Twilight gave a deadpan stare and opened the door. “I think I can manage,” she teased. She made her way inside, leaving her bag on one side of the bed next to a reading lamp and a custom-made box to hold the traditional alicorn regalia. Looking back at Rarity, she raised her eyebrow and maintained eye contact as she worked her way under the covers.

Rarity, for her part, shook her head and walked into the attached bathroom. When she came out ten minutes later, her hair was in its curlers and her sleep mask was already at her forehead. Twilight looked up and shut her book, turning out the light and sending out another quick pulse to Rarity’s horn. 

Once the two were comfortably in bed, Rarity asked one final question. 

“Same time tomorrow, dear?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Rarity.”