It was a bright morning in Ponyville. The sun was high in the sky, there were a few fluffy clouds that Fluffy Clouds was carefully placing to add a little variety, and a gentle breeze gently swayed the leaves on the trees.
Lightning Dust, however, didn’t see any of this. She was in a hospital bed, with fresh bandages on her head, wings, and her left foreleg.
And if the doctors were right, she’d be stuck in here with them for a long, long while. Maybe even the whole summer!
She huffed irritably. This wasn’t her fault. It really felt like the world was out to get her. “This literally can’t get any worse,” she grumbled.
And then she heard the sound of somepony playing a violin outside.
She let out a low groan. Great. She just had to say it. She clamped her pillow over her ears as best she could with one foreleg, but it didn’t help much.
And it just kept going. And going. And going! Didn’t they ever get tired?
Finally, she had had enough. She gingerly climbed out of bed, trying to make sure she didn’t bump the IV in her foreleg, and made her way over to the window. It had been cracked open, which was probably why it was so loud, but her patience was gone, and she had no desire for diplomacy, so she yanked it up and shouted, “Hey! Knock it off!”
The violin music stopped.
“Yeah, I’m talking to you. Keep it down! Some of us are trying to sleep in here!”
There was a brief pause.
And right as Lightning was about to internally declare victory, the violinist started playing a new song, one she recognized as one of Coloratura’s songs after her rebrand, when she dropped ‘Countess’ from her name and started doing more of those lame ballads.
I’m My Own Mare (So You Can’t Control Me).
Lightning let out a frustrated cry and reached for the window to slam it shut. It took a couple tries, but it was a very satisfying slam afterwards. She tottered back to her bed and instinctively flared her wings to hop on, only to cry out in pain. With gritted teeth, she climbed up, more slowly this time, hoping she wasn’t twisting her IV, and tried to get some rest.
She heard the door open. “Hey, Doc, any news?” she asked, trying to not sound too eager.
“It’s Nursery Rhyme, and I’m afraid not, Miss Lightning. I’m here to take another set of vitals.”
Lightning sighed heavily and tried to relax as the nurse checked the equipment. “You sure you didn’t hear anything?” she tried.
“I was there for your intake,” she said gently. “Your injuries were substantial. Your body has to heal on its own, and that will take time,” she emphasized.
“I’ve been here for, like, a week now,” Lightning Dust protested.
“You were admitted this morning,” Nursery Rhyme said flatly.
“Ugh. I hate waiting. I live life in the fast lane. Leap before you look, that’s what I always say.”
“I think that line of thinking is what got you into this predicament in the first place,” Nursery Rhyme observed dryly.
Lightning Dust stuck her tongue out in her general direction and wished she had a more biting retort on tap.
“Anyway, you’re looking stable. I’ll be back in a couple hours to check again.”
Lightning groaned.
“Oh, chin up. Dinner will be served soon.”
Lightning Dust groaned again, already dreading it. The food here was bland and tasteless. She remembered the last time the Washouts went out to eat. Short Fuse had gotten a bottle of hot sauce billing itself as the hottest in all Equestria. It had been a fierce competition, and had burned both ways, but it had been a blast. They’d gotten Short Fuse all riled up so much they’d goaded him into drinking the sauce straight, it had been hilarious.
She wondered what they were up to now.
And if they’d even noticed her being gone.
The door opened, and Lightning quickly sat up. “Hey, Doc,” she started.
“Still no update,” came the voice of Redheart, “but you’ll be the first to know when we do.”
Lightning huffed.
“We’re having to shuffle patients around, so you’re getting a new roommate.”
“Lucky me,” Lightning groused. She listened as her new neighbor made their way in, probably pushed on a wheelchair. It didn’t sound like she had too many personal items. Lightning tuned out the pleasantries exchanged with whoever had brought her here, and she was content to pretend she didn’t exist.
Until she heard the gentle plucking of strings.
“Ah, ponyfeathers,” Lightning swore, sitting up to face her. “You’re the musician.”
“Well, if it isn’t my number one fan,” she returned airily. Her voice had a gentle accent Lightning couldn’t place.
“You’re not going to play that in here, right?”
“I might,” she said airily. “Music is healing, you know.”
“Right,” Lightning said sarcastically. “So, how did a nice mare like you wind up in a place like this?”
“Pride,” she said wryly. “I was practicing for a family reunion and was standing on top of a stack of hay bales. I thought, yeah, I can balance. Maybe I could, but the stack couldn’t. Did save my violin, though,” she added, with a small hint of pride.
“Priorities,” Lightning Dust said flatly.
“Oh, yeah? Something tells me you didn’t get those bandages saving foals from a cragodile,” she sniped back.
Lightning Dust suppressed a snarl. “I was practicing a mind-blowing stunt. You ever heard of the Washouts? Yeah. That’s me. Doing mindblowing, sock-blasting stunts the Wonderbolts won’t dare to do.”
“Maybe they don’t dare because they don’t like hospitals.”
“Oh, not you too,” she groaned. “It would have been fine. Just got hit with a sneaker breeze. Million to one chance. Nopony could have seen it coming.”
“Something tells me the Wonderbolts plan for those one in a million chances.”
“Shows what you know,” Lightning scoffed, even though she knew she was right. “How long are you stuck here?”
“I’m mostly here for observation. Didn’t just land on my leg wrong, I hit a rusty nail.” She chuckled. “You know, before they moved me here, they said you weren’t a chatty one.”
“I figured if I keep you talking, you won’t start playing.”
She huffed, as if affronted. “Do you really hate music that much?”
“Just violins. String instruments in general. Boring! Give me some heavy, overdrive guitar any day. Something awesome.”
She chuckled amusedly. “I think you just haven’t heard me play.”
“Oh, I’ve heard enough,” Lightning said firmly. “You just walking in? That was enough.”
“Oh. So you thought I was treble when I walked in.” She giggled expectantly.
Lightning didn’t respond.
“Treble,” she repeated. “It’s a music joke.”
“Oh, I got it. It just wasn’t funny.”
“Oh, is that so? Well, I’ve got more. What do you get if you drop a piano down a mine shaft?”
“I’m sure you’ll tell me in a second.”
“A flat minor.”
Lightning groaned. “This is torture.”
“I get better! Why did the pianist keep banging her head on the keyboard?”
“Ugh.”
“She was trying to play by ear.”
Lightning pulled the pillow over her head again.
Lightning almost felt joy when the door opened again for another round of vitals.
Her neighbor went first, and it was quick. “This is looking good,” the nurse said. (Blackheart? Probably Something-heart. Having ‘heart’ in your name almost guaranteed a career in medicine, Lightning thought). “You shouldn’t need to stay too much longer.”
Lightning Dust sat up expectantly.
She noticed. “Are you hoping I’ll say the same thing to you?”
“Maybe,” Lightning said as airily as she could.
“You’ll be waiting a bit longer for that, I’m afraid,” she said as she checked her blood pressure. “Still nothing, and won’t be for a while.”
“Don’t sugarcoat it, Doc, give it to me straight,” Lightning said sarcastically under her breath.
Dinner was brought by at its usual time.
Her neighbor waited until the door was closed, then lifted the tray. Lightning could hear her take a small bite, then stick her tongue out. “Blegh. I’ve cooked better food when I was delirious with the pony pox,” she said.
“Bland and tasteless, huh? What is it this time, green paste or brown paste?”
“Brown. What, can’t you see?”
“No, I can’t,” Lightning emphasized, pointing at the bandages on her eyes. “I hit a rock when I crashed. My wing will be back in a day or two. My leg a little longer. But my eyes…” Her voice trailed off. “I need those to fly,” she added. She’d get her sight back. She knew it.
“Hmm,” she said softly.
“What?” Lightning demanded.
“That’s why you keep asking, isn’t it?”
“So?”
“Sorry, just… trying to imagine the possibility of losing something that important to me.” She worked her foreleg around, clearly imagining what it would be like if she couldn’t play.
“Yeah,” Lightning said, feeling oddly vindicated that she understood the magnitude of what she was facing, but she didn’t want to admit that, so she lapsed into silence.
It continued for a little longer until her neighbor finally broke it.
“You know, I still don’t know your name. I’m Fiddlesticks.”
“Lightning Dust. I’ll get you an autograph. Gonna be worth stacks of bits one day.”
She chuckled lightly. “You’re pretty confident of that.”
“Yeah. As soon as I get out of here, get my eyes and leg and wings fixed up, I’ll be out there, blasting Wonderbolts out of the sky. For legal reasons I need to emphasize that that is a metaphor only.”
Fiddlesticks giggled. “Say, that reminds me. How do you fix a broken brass instrument?”
“Don’t. Don’t you d-”
“With a tuba glue.”
Lightning groaned and let her head hit the pillow again.
Lightning woke up to the sound of ponies moving and what sounded like a wheelchair rolling around. She knew it wasn’t for her, so that left one option. “Checking out already?”
“Sure am. Tests came back negative and my leg is healing, so I can get out of here. Just have to take things slower for a bit. I’m sure that’s a foreign concept to you.”
Lightning barked a laugh. “Yeah it is. I’ll be out and flying again in no time.”
“Do you know when they’re going to take those off?”
“No, why?”
“Well, see, now I’m invested. I wanna know how your story ends.” Her voice turned almost devious. “So I’ll be back to check up on you now and again.”
“I really wish you wouldn’t,” Lightning said honestly.
Lightning could hear the smirk in her voice. “And that is a big part of why I’m doing it. See you soon, Lightning Dust.”
Lightning stuck her tongue out in her general direction and wished once again she had a sharper retort.
She paused at the door. “Why did the singer buy a ladder?”
Lightning Dust sighed. Yet another beautiful (presumably) summer day, with the sun and sky just begging for a pegasus of her caliber to come, and here she was, still stuck inside this crummy hospital.
As much as she hated to admit it, Fiddlesticks as a visitor was making things a little more tolerable. At least she knew she wasn’t the only one who hated hospital food.
She could have done without the constant stream of bad music jokes, though. Still, it was a welcome interruption from nurses who had definitely gotten tired of her asking for updates on her condition.
Not that she’d ever tell Fiddlesticks that, though.
The door opened, interrupting her thoughts. Lightning knew the rotation by now, and knew that Fiddlesticks wouldn’t come by again until tomorrow, so that left one option. “Hey, Coldheart. Enjoy your regular bowl of nails for breakfast?”
“It’s Doctor Horse, actually.”
Lightning sat up in shock.
“And, uh, I had biscuits and gravy this morning.”
“Forget the gravy, Doc, what’s up with my eyes?” she said urgently.
“Well, we can’t be sure until we remove the bandages,” he hedged.
Lightning sputtered. Why was he stalling? “What are you waiting for? Let’s go, doc,” Lightning urged. “Get these off.”
“Before we begin, I want to remind you-”
“Yeah, yeah, there’s a chance it didn’t work, come on, my wings are atrophying over here!”
She felt the bandages begin to unwrap, and she felt her heart start pounding. Strip after strip was removed, and then-
“Oh, it’s bright,” she protested, bringing a hoof up to cover them.
“Yes, you haven’t used them in a while, so they’ll be sensitive. Give them a moment to adjust, and we’ll run the tests in a moment.”
Fiddlesticks knocked on the door and let herself in. “Hey, Lightning,” she started.
Lightning lay on the bed, still, facing away from the door.
She chuckled and softly sang, “Are you sleeping, are you sleeping, Lightning-” She stopped as she noticed a change. “Oh, your bandages are off.”
Lightning grunted.
“How did it go?” Fiddlesticks asked, afraid she already knew the answer.
Lightning rolled over and glared at her, revealing one normal eye, and one with a jagged scar across it. The pupil was milky white. It would never see again. “I don’t know. You tell me,” she said bitingly.
Fiddlesticks tried to lighten the mood. “I’m sure it’s not all bad. I’d think you’d like a scar. Gives you more of an extreme look.”
But Lighting Dust was not amused. “You don’t get it!” she raged, bringing her hooves down on the bed. “I’m blind in one eye! I can’t fly with only one! I just can’t! I need my depth perception to do every! Single! One of my stunts!” Her chest was heaving and hot tears burned in her eyes. “I’m done! I’m finished! I’ll never fly again! I’m-!”
But she was stopped there when Fiddlesticks pulled her into a tight hug and held her close.
Lightning protested wordlessly as she tried to hit her with her front hooves, push her away with her head. Her wings flared defensively as she tried to kick her, even though her rear hooves were trapped under the blanket. She didn’t want this!
But her efforts softened, and it quickly became token resistance at best. Even her wings folded back down.
She collapsed into the embrace, sobbing, comforted but hating every second of it.
After what seemed like an hour (but was probably only a couple of minutes), Fiddlesticks spoke again. “I can’t say it’s alright, because my cousin has a stick in her flank about being honest and you’re clearly torn up something awful, but I might have something that can help.” She lifted her hat, revealing a small flask balanced on her head. “This here is Apple Family Cider.”
“What’s so special about that?” Lightning asked, brusquely wiping a hoof across her muzzle.
“It’s delicious. Always helps me feel better. I mean, I was hoping to celebrate with it, but as my cousin’s girlfriend says, it’s never a bad time for cider.” She picked up Lightning’s water cup and poured them both some, making sure to fill Lightning’s all the way to the top.
Lightning took a sip and her eyes widened subconsciously. She didn’t want to admit it, but it was nice and chilled and bubbly and she did actually feel a little bit better.
They stayed like that for a little while, sipping and refilling until the flask was finally empty.
“So, what now?” Fiddlesticks asked, tucking it back under her hat.
“They’re releasing me soon,” Lightning said, looking down into her cup as if there would be answers there. “I’ll figure it out from there.”
“Going back to the Washouts?”
“Eh. Maybe. You know, they’d be lucky to have me. I’m still just as bold and daring and exciting as I was before,” she said, hoping it didn’t sound like she was trying to convince herself of that. “I choreographed all our old stunts. I’m sure I’ll get some new ones in no time. I’ve got some ideas bouncing around already.” It was a bit of a lie, but not really.
Fiddlesticks nodded. She pulled over a pen, wrote something down on a napkin, and slid it over.
“What’s this?” Lightning Dust asked, looking down at it.
“That’s my address. When you do get back into it, send me a ticket. I’ll come cheer you on. I mean, I might not go the whole face painting flag-waving megafan route, but I’ll give you a standing ovation at least.”
Lightning hesitated, then took it. “Sure thing,” she said.
Fiddlesticks inhaled and held it, clearly trying to suppress it.
Lightning sighed, knowing what was coming. “Alright. Out with it,” she said tiredly.
“How do you make a bandstand?”
“I don’t really want to know, but I’ll ask anyway. How, Fiddlesticks?”
“You take away their chairs.”
Lightning shook her head. “Thanks for the cider. Good night, Fiddlesticks.”
Fiddlesticks tipped her hat and left.
Lightning watched her leave, unsure what to think.
You could lie to friends, right? That was a thing, she was pretty certain.
The sun had barely peeked over the horizon when Fiddlesticks rolled out of bed. Summer may have been drawing to a close, but it still got really hot really quickly, and she needed to practice before it got too hot.
She was expecting a lovely morning with music and maybe playing along with the birds and their singing.
What she was not expecting was a pony falling out of the tree in a shower of branches, leaves, and swear words.
The music stopped. Fiddlesticks looked down, taken aback. Her brow furrowed further as she realized she knew this pony. “Lightning Dust? Why were you in my tree?”
“What’s wrong with trees?” Lightning asked defensively as she pushed herself up.
“It’s an oak tree, not a pegasus tree. Acorns should be falling, not pegasuses.”
“Yeah, well, keep an open mind,” Lightning said, rolling out her neck.
“Did you sleep up there last night?”
“Pegasi have always napped in trees,” Lightning said snippily… as she was stretching out her back, like she’d slept all night in the tree.
Fiddlesticks bit her lower lip. “Lightning Dust, where’s ‘home’ for you?”
Lightning shrugged. “Cloudsdale,” she said unconvincingly.
Fiddlesticks raised an eyebrow. She now had the sneaking suspicion that she lived on the road, wherever her next tour stop was. And if she wasn’t on tour again... “What about your team?”
Lightning sighed, not wanting to admit it, but the words tumbling out anyway. “I can’t face them.”
“What, because you’re blind in one eye? They’ll find out eventually. They already knew you were in the accident, right? When they came to see you?”
Lightning didn’t answer.
“They... did come to see you,” Fiddlesticks repeated, more hesitantly this time, “right?”
“I… may have accidentally started a tradition that if you ended up in the hospital, you’re a loser.”
Fiddlesticks blinked. “That’s a terrible tradition,” she remarked.
“I mean, I didn’t mean to,” Lightning defended herself. “Rolling Thunder landed in a poison ivy bush, so it wasn’t, like, fatal or anything. I just got busy and just never made it down there until she got out. It just kinda... stuck.”
“I'm a little concerned that ending up in the hospital happens enough that you have a known process for it,” she said.
“We’re the Washouts,” Lightning said with a toss of her mane. “It’s part of the risk we take. All glory.”
“But you’re not willing to risk actually talking to them?” Fiddlesticks prompted.
She had landed a direct hit. “What do you know about taking risks?” Lightning spat. She flared her wings and flew away.
Fiddlesticks watched her leave, and wondered if she’d said something wrong. She slowly loosened her bow’s hair. She didn’t feel like practicing this morning anymore.
Fiddlesticks tuned her violin thoughtlessly. She looked up at the sky, as if hoping she’d see Lightning Dust fly by with her team.
But the sky remained clear, except for a few scattered clouds that Scattered Clouds was placing. She exhaled and headed outside again. She started with a simple warmup, a few tuneless scales.
And then she stopped as she heard a startled squawk and a pegasus fall from the tree.
Lightning Dust looked up, her mane splayed over her face, and spat out a leaf. “Again? Really?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” Fiddlesticks said, dropping her bow, unable to suppress a little smile. “How did it go?”
“Oh, just peachy,” Lightning said as she moved her mane aside, revealing a new, sizable gash on her cheek.
“Did they do that?” Fiddlesticks asked, horrified.
“No, that’s from me trying to prove I still had it,” Lightning said bitterly. “My team…”
“Whoa. You’re really hurt.” “Yeah. But I can stil-” “Wait, wait. That means…” Rolling Thunder cheered and pushed Short Fuse down. “Ha, ha! I’m the greatest flyer now, no take backsies!” Short Fuse flew back up. “What? In your dreams!” “You couldn’t reach my dreams on a step stool, you loser!” Short Fuse let out an incoherent screech and the two ponies began scuffling.
“-didn’t seem to care much one way or the other.”
Fiddlesticks blinked.
“What, nothing witty to say?” Lightning needled.
“Nope,” Fiddlesticks said simply. “I’m at a loss for words. I don’t even have a bad joke for you.”
Lightning scoffed. “They’re the idiots. I’ll show them. They’ll be begging to have me back.”
Fiddlesticks scuffed a hoof on the ground. “You know, it’s my cousin who’s more into that whole friendship thing, but I know what it’s not, and that, that’s not it.”
“Yeah, well, it’s the best I could do. You want to teach me how to do it better?”
It had been rhetorical, but Fiddlesticks seemed to consider it, which made Lightning pause.
Finally, she spoke. “Alright. To start with, you don’t have to sleep in my tree. I’ve got a couch you can crash on.” She paused. “Wait. Is that a bad choice of words?”
“Better than one of your terrible jokes,” Lightning said. She realized a bit too late that that was just an invitation, and it had most likely reminded her of one.
Fiddlesticks grinned. “Well, now I’ve got one for you. What type of music are balloons afraid of?”
“Ah, ponyfeathers.”
“Pop music.”
Lightning groaned. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I.”
“Maybe. But I think in time, you’ll learn to love it.”
“Music pun. Ha. I get it.”
Fiddlesticks came back in from practicing and slowed to a stop as she saw Lightning Dust, still sprawled on the couch with a cushion over her head. She flicked it off with a back hoof. “So, what’s the plan for today?”
“Does ‘pretend I’m dead’ count?”
“You did that yesterday, and the day before, so I’m going to say ‘no’.”
“Come on, Fiddly. If we’re friends, shouldn’t you let me do what I want?”
“Friendship doesn’t mean I let you do whatever you want. I’m going to help you get better, and you’re supposed to push me, too.”
“Yeah?” Lightning challenged. “What kind of job can a half-blind pegasus do?”
As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. Fiddlesticks opened it to reveal a gray pegasus standing there, holding a small package.
What drew Lightning’s attention was her eyes. One was looking at her, one was looking up at the sky.
But Fiddlesticks was much more interested in the small package she held. “Are these my strings?”
The mailmare nodded.
Fiddlesticks giggled like a young filly, prancing in place as she took them.
“New strings, like for your violin?” Lightning asked.
“Eeyup. Just in time, too. Gotta break them in a bit before they’re good to go for the Apple Family Reunion.”
“Should I know what that is?”
Fiddlesticks retrieved her violin. “Unless you’ve ever been an Apple’s girlfriend, probably not. All the Apple Family gets together. They talk, eat a lot of food, play games, eat food, the old folks work on a quilt that I don’t think will ever get done, and of course-”
“Eat food?” Lightning guessed flatly. “You trying to sell me on this or scare me away?”
“It doesn’t matter too much. It’s an unspoken rule that if you bring a plus one, it’s ‘serious’,” she said with air quotes. “You’re going to get raked over the coals about future plans and foals-”
“Even two mares?”
“You bet. They’re all equal opportunity hazers. And if I started naming all my aunts that are a little ‘out there’, I’ll be here all day.” She shuddered and resumed working.
“Huh.” Lightning watched as Fiddlesticks twisted the pegs gently, loosening the first string with an unexpected dexterity and gentleness. Part of her had thought she’d just ask a unicorn. “It’s kinda funny. I usually only change things when they’re actually broken.”
“Like what? You don’t even change the bathroom roll.”
“You know, like parachute straps, guide ropes, and chains, dumb stuff like that.”
“That whole sentence was horrifying, so I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Fiddlesticks said airily. She smiled. “But as long as you’re here…”
Lightning groaned, knowing where this was going.
“Want to hear the joke about a staccato? Never mind, it’s too short.”
“Ugh.”
“Didn’t like that one? No worries. Want to hear the one about a fermata? Wait, it’s too long.”
Lightning groaned again and headed towards the door. “You know what? I changed my mind. Job hunting is better than this,” she said. “Lightning, out.”
Lightning Dust double-checked the address on the package, slid it to balance on her back, and then knocked on the door. It had been marked urgent, and she took a little pride in being the first delivery mare on the shortlist for this kind of delivery.
And then the door opened to reveal Rolling Thunder. “Lightning Dust?”
Lightning felt her heart jump in her throat, as if she’d been caught with her hoof between her hind legs instead of just doing her job, but she kept a neutral expression. “Got a delivery for you.” Now, of course, she recognized the box size as the ones they used for their uniforms.
Rolling Thunder smirked. She opened the door further and called to the other ponies inside. “Hey, guys, check out who’s here.”
Lightning kept a steely glare as she looked in, ignoring the laughs.
Rolling Thunder shook her head. “But delivery? Really? A mare of your talents?”
“Just sign for it,” Lightning said irritably.
She took the clipboard, and then looked up. “Sure thing. Don’t hit any rocks on your way back, alright?”
Lightning kicked the clipboard up, caught it on her back, and flew away. She’d just forge the signature on her way back, she’d seen it enough.
Which didn’t help her spiral as she remembered the other stunts she used to do and the autographs she used to sign and...
Fiddlesticks adjusted the tablecloth, only to realize she’d overadjusted and moved it back, only to realize that she’d overcorrected, and then gave up. She’d given this a lot of thought. She couldn’t say even when it had started, but Lightning had, like her namesake, came in suddenly and brightened things up. But unlike Lightning, she wanted this to be a bit more permanent. She glanced at the clock and smiled. She’d be back soon.
But one look at Lightning coming in and she knew something was off. She came over. “What’s wrong, Lightning Bug?” she asked gently.
“Ran into someone from my old team today,” she mumbled, flipping over and landing on the couch.
Fiddlesticks came over and gently brushed her back, between her wings. She knew if she stayed quiet for a bit, Lightning would share more. It had taken a while for her to trust her, but it had been worth it.
“It shouldn’t get to me,” she said, hitting a hoof against the couch cushion. “I’ve got my own life. I can fly my own way. And I’ve got a friend worth more than all of them put together. But seeing them there, just… there… it’s…” She grunted. “It’s getting to me.”
Fiddlesticks hesitated, as if unsure if she should say something, then decided to go for it anyway. “So, Lightning, it’s been a year since you fell out of my tree for the first time.
“It only happened one other time,” she defended herself.
“I know it’s been a hard year, but you’ve been so strong, and I’ve really enjoyed the time we’ve spent together.”
“Yeah, me too,” Lightning said, appreciating the compliment but unsure where she was going with this. This didn’t sound like the setup to a bad music joke, though she didn’t rule out the possibility of one.
“And I’ll understand if you don’t, but… I’d love it if you’d accompany me to the Reunion.”
“Really?” Lightning chuckled. “I thought I had to be your girlfriend before-”
The gears finally clicked, and she shot up. She’d thought about it, sure, she was cute, and that ‘Lightning Bug’ nickname had grown on her, but had always put it down as Fiddlesticks just being friendly. But there was no other way to interpret that.
Right?
“Really?” Lightning asked.
Fiddlesticks was blushing slightly and had her hat pulled down, but she nodded. “If you want,” she said.
Lightning pretended to take a moment to consider this. She stretched this moment out as long as she dared.
Then, she forcefully pushed her back on the couch and pressed their lips together. Working fully on ‘nothing ventured, nothing gained’, she waited for Fiddlesticks to take a breath, and then gently slid her tongue inside her mouth.
Fiddlesticks hadn’t been expecting that, and the surprised squeak was one Lightning Dust would treasure forever.
Finally, though, even the most awesome pony needed to breathe, and she pulled back.
Fiddlesticks’s cheeks were burning bright pink now, and her chest was heaving. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she panted.
Lightning Dust chuckled ominously, letting the tips of her wing feathers gently brush against the inside of Fiddlesticks’ sensitive thighs. “You haven’t seen anything yet. Come on, Fiddly, tell me a joke.”
Fiddlesticks’ eyes flicked to one side. “Um, ok, uh, why… why is a piano so hard to open?” And why was Lightning sliding so low? “Because the keys are on the insi- anhh!”
Lightning Dust snickered. She had her right where she wanted her.
Two mares sat next to each other on the train seat. Fiddlesticks was giving her girlfriend (such a fun title!) some last-minute advice. “Don’t bother to try remembering names. You’ll lose track. And if you guess wrong, don’t worry about it, you’ll probably find a food with that name nearby and you can pretend you were looking at that instead.”
“You keep talking up all this food, and it’s making me hungry,” Lightning said, pointedly rubbing her stomach. “It’d better be worth it.”
Fiddlesticks chuckled. “It’s the best, bar none, Lightning Bug. Don’t worry about grabbing it fast—even if that is your only speed—because there’s going to be plenty.” She brightened. “Hey, how many concertmasters does it take to change a light bulb?”
“Oh, no.”
“Just one, but it takes four movements.”
Lightning hit her affectionately with her wing.
They emerged from the train and made their way down the dirt road towards the big red barn. There were all kinds of ponies headed there, and Lightning couldn’t help but grin. Maybe she could make a little splash here, pull off a fast-flying trick that she didn’t need both eyes for.
And then both slowed to a stop.
Because there was another earth pony mare, wearing a hat, with a pegasus hovering at her side, across from them on the path, seemingly mirroring their positions.
Fiddlesticks brightened as she recognized them. “Oh, hey! This is my cousin I keep telling you about-”
“Applejack,” Lightning supplied in a low voice, her hopes of standing out popping like a soap bubble.
“Y- yeah, and her girlfriend-”
“Rainbow Dash,” Lightning finished.
Fiddlesticks’ ears lowered slightly. She looked at them and gestured at the pegasus at her side. “So I’m guessing you two’re familiar with…?”
“Lightning Dust,” the two ponies said in unison. Rainbow’s eyes were narrow, and Applejack’s face was inscrutable.
A yellow filly with a red mane smirked. “Well, this reunion just got interesting.”
Fiddlesticks emerged from the bathroom and immediately noticed a small crowd gathered, all chanting.
“Go! Go! Go! Go! Go!”
Her brow furrowed. What had-?
And then she caught sight of a familiar green coat between all the legs.
Fiddlesticks cringed. She’d left Lightning alone for two minutes! What had happened? She ran over, rearing up to see in the circle.
Lightning Dust and Rainbow Dash faced each other, a quickly-diminishing pile of fritters between them. With steel in their eyes, they matched each other, fritter for fritter.
Fiddlesticks released a breath she didn’t know she was holding. An eating contest? She wasn’t sure this was better than what she’d thought Lightning had done, but not by much. She looked over and suddenly realized she was standing next to Applejack.
Applejack watched, a knowing (if frustrated) little smile playing at her lips. “Pegasi,” she muttered. “You gotta love them.”