Pragananananant
Sweetie Belle lay on the floor of the bathroom, curled into a tight ball just in front of the toilet. She whimpered pitifully as Rarity lightly rubbed her spine.
"Here, Sweetie, Darling, try a few more ice chips."
With a nod, Sweetie opened her eyes and levitated a few chips of ice from the mug next to her into her mouth, letting them melt under her tongue.
"I need... need to go to work..." Sweetie muttered.
"I've already asked Dash to tell Headmare Starlight you're taking a sick day today," Rarity said. "Dash offered to cover your class."
Sweetie bolted to her hooves, eyes wide with panic. "No, no, no, my poor stud—" Her face turned the same green as her eyes and she leaned over the toilet as another round of morning sickness racked her.
Rarity levitated Sweetie's mane back, keeping it away from the torrent of mess. She breathed in through her mouth and out through her nose, avoiding the uncouth smells.
Sweetie sat on the floor, hugging the toilet and her cheek resting on the seat, spent.
"Redheart said it'll get better soon," Sweetie mumbled.
Rarity levitated up a few more ice chips into Sweetie's mouth, then wet a washrag from the faucet and wiped Sweetie's forehead, then her lips.
"Rarity... this is awful..."
"Mother said she suffered the same." Rarity paused, head cocked. "For that matter, Pinkie did, too, and could eat nothing but cheese for three mon—"
At the word cheese, Sweetie was instantly back over the toilet, violently ill again.
"Sorry, Darling," Rarity said once that round finished.
"Redheart said she has medicines," Sweetie said, "but doesn't like to use them except as a last resort. She said if the baby's a unicorn, potions during the first trimester can have weird effects. And we can't know if it's a unicorn or pegasus or whatever for months, yet."
"This, too, shall pass," Rarity reassured.
"Miss Derpy said she was morning sick for the whole pregnancy with Dinky..." Sweetie Belle clenched her eyes and her ears wilted. "I'm less than a month along, Rarity. What if I have ten more months of this?"
The doorbell rang. "A customer at this hour?" Rarity snarled. "I shall go and give her a piece of my mind..." She stormed out of the bathroom.
Sweetie sighed, the cold toilet seat against her hot cheek. Her whole body trembled with dehydration.
"The idiot is here," Rarity announced, leading in Button Mash. "I told him you were indisposed but he brought an offering."
Sweetie cracked open one eye. Button stood there, with something looking like a pizza box on his withers. His beanie spun slowly. "Button, if you brought pizza, I'm going to hold you down and yark on your face."
"It's not pizza!" he protested.
"I inspected it before allowing him inside." Rarity nodded. "I shall be off to work, then. Button, ensure she pushes fluids. Ice chips for now, Cragadile-ade once she can hold it down. It's in the icebox."
Rarity disappeared and Button moved the box to the bathroom counter. "I... I made this myself..." he said.
Sweetie put a few ice chips in her mouth, let them melt, and then swallowed them. Her belly seemed a little more stable, so she stood. Her legs shook and her knees were weak, but she stood. That was an improvement.
With a trembling hoof, Button opened the box. It contained a wide, thin cake, frosted aggressively with something that looked like buttercream but smelled like licorice, and read:
i'm Sorry for getting u praganant
"I'm sorry for getting you prag-uh-nant," Sweetie deadpanned.
"So, uh, real life doesn't have spell check."
"Would you feel better if I put a squiggly red line of frosting underneath the misspelled words?" Sweetie asked.
"Yes? Yes." He looked at Sweetie's glare. "I mean, no."
Sweetie leaned down an inch and sniffed. The frosting smelled of licorice and the cake of nutmeg and garam masala. She held a hoof to her mouth and fought back a new wave of nausea. "Did your mom bake it?"
"No, I did this myself. I haven't told her yet."
"Well, I can't accept this cake. First, the smell is going to make me yark again." She levitated the box shut. "Second, you didn't make me prag-uh-nant, so good for you, you don't have to tell your mom at all."
Relief and joy washed across Button's face. "The test was wrong? You're not pregnant? What a relief! Not that I don't want to, ya know, with you, someday, just not yet! Oh! Oh! This is so excellent!"
Button pranced in a circle. "I applied for ten jobs yesterday, by the way! Playtester for Vanhoover Games. Playtester for Pontronic Arts. Playtester for—"
"Did you apply for any job-jobs?" Sweetie asked. "The Apples need a new manure spreader, and the Cakes need an assistant apprentice oven stoker."
Button made a confused face. "Job-jobs? No, did the hormones make you crazy? Wait, you're not pregnant, so no hormones... why are you talking crazy?"
Sweetie raised an eyebrow. "We'll see if that cake ends up in one of your orifices that don't usually consume food, then we'll decide if I'm crazy, and to what degree."
Rumble strode into the bathroom and gave Sweetie Belle a kiss, despite the sour sweat and rancid taste about her. He was still wearing a stained apron, and smelled of kitchens and cooking, as to be expected from his new job as a chef. "Hey, Honey, I brewed some ginger ale and some mint-infused lemon water. Mrs. Starlight said those are two sure-fire morning sickness... well, not cures, but ameliorations?"
"Oh thank goodness," Sweetie said. She levitated Rumble's saddlebag open and removed a large thermos and took a dainty sip. "Oh gosh, oh my, that's what I need."
With a sigh, she let herself sit back down, shoulders hunched and head bowed. "I can barely levitate it. Can you...?"
Rumble took the thermos between his hooves and tipped it up, letting Sweetie take another exhausted sip.
"Morning sickness remedy?" Button asked, confusion covering his face. "But... but you said I didn't make you pregnant."
Sweetie shook her head. "Move the emphasis to a different word in that sentence. You didn't make me pregnant."
Rumble sat down next to her, ribs-to-ribs, and put a wing over her back, feeling her dehydrated and exhausted trembling. He tipped the thermos up again, giving her another cool sip of mint-lemon infusion.
Button made a sound in the back of his throat that might have been "mmppppfq."
"Hey, Dude," Rumble said, looking at Button and hugging Sweetie tighter. "Been meaning to ask. Wanna be Best Stallion at our wedding?"