Romance and the Fate of Equestria

A while back, it occurred to me that Pinkie Pie is the only character who never curses. That gave me an idea for some sort of dramatic moment that causes Pinkie to say "son of a bitch" for sheer dissonance. But, despite even Fluttershy letting out a few choice words when under duress, nothing I could think of seemed serious enough to merit Pinkie swearing. I guess some characters just have to stay innocent no matter what.

Of course, I've since read back and noticed that she has, in fact, said "damn straight". I failed to do the research on my own story, that's friggin' fantastic.

Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Nine

Pinkie Pie knocked on the door of a moderately large townhouse, humming and gazing around at the surrounding dwellings as she waited politely for a response.

Fancypants came to the door a few seconds later, beaming at her. "Ah, Pinkie Pie, my dear."

"Hi, boyfriend!" she chirped.

"How was filming?"

"Oh, same as usual," Pinkie said brightly. "I did some monologuing, Glitter did some scary-convincing screaming and crying, we both spent a lot of time in the makeup chair, it's just still tons of fun, and they pay me way too much, it's great."

"That does sound wonderful," Fancypants said warmly. "So, what do you think? Shall we go out for dinner? Or something?"

"Out to dinner?" Pinkie balked. "On a date? What kind of girl do you think I am? I figured we'd just hang around your house a little bit."

She bounced past him, leaving him standing in the doorframe.

"Yes, that checks out," he muttered to himself, amused. He closed the door and turned around to see Pinkie bouncing on his couch, gaining altitude steadily.

"Whoooa, big couch," she breathed, awestruck. She paused for a moment, and slowed her flying leaps to a gentle bounce. "Fancy couch," she said, as if reminding herself. "Not for bouncing."

"Bounce away, darling," Fancypants said graciously. "What's mine is yours."

She beamed at him and resumed her jumping. He sat down on the couch beside her, and found himself being gently pushed into the air every time Pinkie impacted on the cushion.

"Ooh!" Fancypants remarked. "Well, this is nice."

"Wanna bounce with me?"

"Oh, I'm too big and heavy, I'm sure," he said evasively.

"Hmm, all right," she said, shrugging in midair. "Well, if you ever wanna get yourself a bigger couch, I'll show you how it's done."

"Very well then!" he said brightly.

As she continued bouncing, she looked around at his home. "Whee! This is a nice place."

"Why, thank you," he said in surprise. "You're the first pony who's ever said that."

"Really?" She looked around, concerned. "Why? It is nice."

"Well," he admitted uncomfortably, "most of my friends… all of my friends… are old-money aristocrats who have better, nicer places. And I, being the old-moneyest among them, well, they expect me to have the most extravagant home of them all, certainly something better than this."

"Hmm." Pinkie stopped jumping and came to a stop on the cushion, gazing at him seriously. "So why don't you?"

"This is my parents' house," said Fancypants, gesturing all around. "Opulent by their standards, by anypony's standards, really. I've never had a day job to speak of, but I have turned a deal or two, investments and things which have made me wealthier than they ever were. Most ponies with such fortune upgrade to a bigger house, somewhere higher up the mountain with a lot of land, but I… I couldn't say goodbye to this house. It's the house my family built. I could never leave it."

"Huh," Pinkie remarked, interested. "I guess that's sweet, in a douchebaggy sort of way."

He chuckled. "I know, I know that probably makes no sense to you. To think of all the things I assumed were normal growing up, not realizing I was filthy rich… I've tried to get in better touch with reality since my youth."

"You're not Filthy Rich, he's a businesspony from Ponyville," Pinkie said, confused. "You're Fancypants." She gasped. "But you're also filthy rich! But he's not very fancypants…"

"…Er, yeah," he said dryly.

"So where are your parents now?" she asked.

"They… they… they died, Pinkie," he said blankly. "They died when I was young and that's I live here. I thought that was implied."

"Oh," she muttered, embarrassed. "Guess so. Sorry."

"When I was seventeen, shortly before I'd have moved out to find my own way, gotten out of their hair, you know," he said quietly. "Then all of a sudden there was nopony whose hair to be in."

"I'm sorry," Pinkie whispered.

"It was… a long time ago," Fancypants said, sighing heavily. "That they ever existed feels like a dream sometimes."

"You loved them," Pinkie stated simply.

"Too much to ever let anything change around here," Fancypants agreed, gesturing to his house's rather antiquated décor.

"I wish I felt that way about my parents," Pinkie muttered, somewhat raggedly. "If I had their house I'd change everything."

He scooted closer to her on the couch. "And why is that, my dear?"

She was silent for a long minute. "We're not that close. I only just started speaking to them again. It had been years."

"But you are speaking to them again," he said gently.

"I am… I am. It's nice. They're good parents, just not the right ones for me."

"Why do you say that?" he whispered sadly.

She winced. "With them, it was always… nothing ever changed. Traditions, you know? Like…" She raised both of her hooves up over her head, forming parallel lines with her forearms. "Tradition! I don't like traditions. Tradition is everything being the same as it ever was. I can't live like that. I'm creative, I'm spontaneous, I need everything to be new and exciting!" She bounced off of her armrest and back to her cushion. "You don't get anything new if tradition has any place in your life. And to my family, tradition is all that matters. To me, that feels kinda like… like being dead."

He blinked at her, a lump in his throat. "I've never heard you speak so seriously," he said softly.

"Nopony has," she agreed. "That's what boyfriends are for." Unexpectedly, she dove forward, snuggling him. "Don't worry, I'm still fun!"

She went in for a kiss, and his eyes widened in eagerness, only to slump in disappointment when she gave him a simple, brief peck.

They gazed into each other's eyes in silence for many long seconds, and she kissed him again. There was more silence, then she leaned in toward him again, slowly this time, but for the third time her kiss was fleeting, quick to return to her misty eye contact with him.

"Kisses!" she said cheerfully after another quiet moment.

"Ah, yes," he said, chuckling. "Yes indeed."

"Kiss me now!" she chirped, closing her eyes and puckering up.

"Erm, all right," he said. Confidently, he held his hoof on the back of her head and pulled her close, kissing her on the lips and holding the contact as tightly as he could.

Pinkie tensed up, her muscles taut for a moment. "…Mmmmm," she sighed loudly, her entire body relaxing as she sank into the kiss.

Several seconds later, he slowly pulled out, stroking her mane. "And that's the way it's done," he said smugly.

"Wow," Pinkie remarked, under her breath to herself. "Nothin'."

"Pardon?"

"…Nothin'," she told him. She blinked several times. "Ah… Twilight and Rarity have this bet going on. I wanna help them out, help them settle it, but I wanna be absolutely sure…" She stared hard at him, straining. "I don't know how to tell whether one or the other is right."

"What sort of bet are we talking about here?" he said, frowning in concern.

"It's… personal," she mumbled. "I'll tell you when I know the answer. Could you kiss me like that again? But… like…" She strained for nearly a full half a minute, before finally, barely, managing to force out the last word of her request: "…sexier?"

"You don't sound sure," he said dubiously.

"No," she admitted. "No, I'm not. But I have questions about myself which I think can only be answered through more and bigger and hotter kissing."

"Well," he said, his mock reluctance not really making any effort to cover his amusement, "if that's what it takes to help you out. Ah, my dear, sweet Pinkie Pie, you just have no idea how tempting you are, do you?"

"Not really, no." She grinned nervously.

"Well, you are," he said, as though making an official proclamation. "So, more kissing, then?"

"Mm-hmm," she squeaked, her heart fluttering. She cleared her throat. "Ahem… yeah." She leaned in, but just as quickly backed away. "Wait, wait, this doesn't look right. I've never seen anypony kiss like this… Should I be flat on my back?"

She did so, leaping back and lying down. "Or should we snuggle close like this?" She zipped over to him and pulled his arm so it was wrapped around her shoulders. "Or, ooh, I know!" She climbed up atop his lap, facing him, her hooves on his shoulders. "Ah, there we go," she said. "Nice and comfy. Okie dokie, just following your lead from here." She puckered again.

"Er, well, for starters, don't pucker," he said dryly.

"Okie!" she said agreeably, opening her eyes and smiling.

He sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. "You are… do you have any idea how attracted to you I am?"

She shrugged. "No. Thought I said that already. Is there like a scale? I… I don't have any comparison or frame of reference. You're the only pony I've ever been attracted to."

"But you know how I make you feel?"

"Of course."

"Double it."

She turned her eyes toward the ceiling as she pondered the implications. "Ooooh, you like me," she said, a grin growing slowly on her face. "You like me a whole lot!"

"I do," he said. In a moment, he chuckled. "Goodness, this is all so childish, somehow. I feel like a schoolboy."

"That's a good feelin'!" she chirped. "So when does the kissing start?"

"Oh, right away, right away," he said softly. "And you'll follow my lead?"

"I will."

Fancypants slowly drew his hooves along her back and pulled her close, kissing her deeply. With another eager moan, she followed his lead.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Endnotes

I made a reference in Chapter 121 to my distaste of a certain, seemingly universal paradigm about relationships: that the man seems to always, always, be older than the woman. This has revolted me since I was in my early teens. To my shame, I recently realized that this was true of pretty much every relationship in this story. Even Rainbow is established as being older than Derpy and has been the butt of a few "husband" jokes. The only exception is Twilight and Joe who, as former classmates, can be assumed to be the exact same age.

But there's the rub. Why do I hate the age difference thing so much? Do I expect everyone to date people of their exact age? It'd be awfully hard to find love that way. It was when I gained a high school graduate's perspective on the world that I realized there's nothing inherently wrong with an age difference. But it still comes back around to the fact that, regardless of the size of the gap between ages, 99% of the time it's the man, not the woman, who's the older one. I find that a bit creepy, a bit gross, and rife with terrible implications about the moral fiber of humanity's men and women.

It's so omnipresent that I guess I subconsciously copped to it here in my story. To say nothing of the fact that here I am, nearly four years older than my fiancée (have I mentioned that Naty and I are engaged?). I guess Rainbow made a point back in the aforementioned chapter when she said "when it's right, it's right". I've learned to accept that the older man/younger woman thing is just one of those things, but it still makes my hackles rise, kinda, wondering why there are so few exceptions to that rule out there in the world. All things being equal, it should be the other way around just as often, wouldn't you say, but that simply isn't the case. Not ever.

So, to that end, here's our game plan. Any single women reading this, go and find someone younger than yourself. Men, someone older. Any of you got a problem with that, you're horribly sexist. Break! Go team go!