Romance and the Fate of Equestria

Chapter Nineteen

Rarity paced the floors of Carousel Boutique. "So… if I may summarize…"

"Go ahead," Twilight said.

"Tonight is your second date with Snicker-Snack."

"Correct."

"You're having dinner at your place."

"Uh-huh."

"And you want to utterly dazzle him!" Rarity declared.

"Yes," Twilight said enthusiastically.

"With your beauty and sophistication and charm."

Twilight nodded. "I feel it'd be a nice change from the underwhelming mumble-fest that was our first date."

"It can't have been that bad, if you're seeing him again," Rarity said encouragingly.

"Only 'cause he was already into me anyway…" Twilight murmured out of the corner of her mouth.

"Ah," Rarity said. "A flimsy excuse for a second date indeed! So, you want… what, specifically?"

"Prep me. Prettify me. He's had quite enough of my brain, now I want to knock him clean out of his horseshoes with my hotness!"

"Done and done," Rarity said. "I'll have you looking like the queen of the hot librarians in under a minute. Any particular requests?"

Twilight shook her head. "I'll leave you to your own judgment. You're the expert."

"Yes I am!" Rarity said, beaming. "Okay, already I'm getting a feel for what to do for you. Ready for makeup?"

"Ready," Twilight said confidently.

Rarity conjured up a powder-puff twice the size of a pony's head and floated it in midair. "MAKEUP!" she bellowed, before slamming the puff against Twilight's face.

Twilight coughed and blinked, then spotted herself in the mirror. She was a vision in royally-inspired eyeliner and her mane styled with two amethyst-studded tortoiseshell combs.

"Well, the physical comedy was corny, but the results speak for themselves," Twilight said. "Thank you so much, Rarity. I have a good feeling."

"Where are you going?" Rarity demanded. "We're not done. We need to get you an outfit."

"Outfit?" Twilight said blankly. "Why do I need an outfit?"

"So he can rip it off of you, of course," Rarity said, as if it was obvious. "You'd be surprised, the difference it makes, when there's one little obstacle between him and you, one extra step before the night of passion. You know, like 'playing hard to get'. It's the sort of thing that makes a fellow… frustrated." She giggled. "Frustration is good. Highly effective."

Twilight scowled. "I'm sorry, is there a big red letter A on my forehead of which I'm unaware? If so, it's because that's my grade for the semester. I'm not sleeping with him on our second date!"

Rarity smirked. "Erm, yeah, I have twenty bits that say yes, yes you are."

"I'll take that bet," Twilight said, rolling her eyes. "All I have to do is not sleep with him? Easiest twenty bits I ever made."

"I don't think so," Rarity countered. "Have you seen yourself when you're with him? When the subject of him even comes up? You're putty in his hooves, darling. You won't be able to resist. If he's coming into your house tonight, you will find yourself taking him upstairs for the grand tour of your mattress. Trust me… I can tell."

Twilight pondered that, then scoffed, brushing it off. "Just get the outfit, Rarity."

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

Snicker-Snack knocked on the door. Twilight answered, in full makeup and a sleek red dress. "Hiiii, welcome to my home," she said, barely comprehensible through her wide grin.

He grinned back. "Hey, Smiley. Let me, uh… whoa." He entered the library and looked around. The overhead lights were out, the lobby dimly lit by large, round lanterns and strings of white lights, as well as the scented candles on the round, cloth-covered table at the center. "Went all out, huh?" Snicker-Snack said. "Or does the place always look like this?"

"Heh, no," Twilight giggled. "Made it special for you."

"This must have set you back," Snicker-Snack muttered, his pupil-less eyes presumably darting over the various, extremely numerous, lights.

"Not at all," Twilight said brightly. "Most of my income is a weekly stipend straight from Princess Celestia, and I tend not to spend much. Plus, since my assignment is the study of friendship and romantic love, if I put down my purchase of all this stuff as romance-related, it's tax deductible."

"Cooool," Snicker-Snack drawled. "I gotta admit, Smiley, I wasn't expecting to be invited out by you again."

"Say what?" Twilight said, bewildered.

"Sure, I make a good first impression, come across all suave and fascinating, but the reality is, most folks lose interest around the fifteen-minute mark."

"You're a lunatic if that's what you think," Twilight said. "I for one am still hooked on you. You're an interesting guy… like, almost as interesting as me."

He laughed, then gently touched his horn to hers. "That's high praise. I'll treasure those words."

Spike burst in, wearing a tuxedo and a bushy brown mustache. "Hola!" he declared. "Welcome to La Restaurante de Spiké-wiké! Or is it 'El' Restaurante…? Doesn't matter." He pulled them to the table by their front hooves. "Sit down at la mesa, we'll open with some vino rojo, a nice ensalada con pepinos y margaritas, followed by sopa de crema de setas, and our plato principal, um… sándwiches… de watercress-o…"

"Wait," Twilight said, scowling, "that's all just a perfectly normal Ponyville dinner, you're just saying all the names of the dishes in Epoña."

"…Well, yeah. Was that not clear?"

"Eh… never mind," Twilight said, approaching Spike. "Thanks for all your help putting this evening together. You're the greatest, Spike." She hugged him. "I love you so much—now get out."

"Yes, ma'am. Getting out."

"Our friends are hanging out with Snicker-Snack's friends over at Ponyville Plaza, you should go join them at your earliest convenience. I've arranged for you to stay the night with Pinkie Pie; I want you in bed within the hour, you hear me?"

Spike saluted and bobbed cheerfully out the door. Twilight sat at the table, opposite Snicker-Snack, and levitated in the wine, soup, and salad from the kitchen. She set the plates and glasses formally, then her eyes darted toward the door.

"Is he gone? Mmkay…"

Twilight ran around the table and planted a kiss firmly on Snicker-Snack's mouth. She held that position stiffly for a few seconds, then broke off and kissed him at the base of his horn, then between his eyes, the tip of his nose, and back on his mouth again. Forcing his lips aside with her own, she forcibly scraped her teeth against his, then briefly flicked her tongue into his mouth before darting back into her chair and staring hard at her salad.

"Been repressing the urge to do that for… wow, nearly a minute now," she said. "It was hell."

Snicker-Snack grinned and started digging into his salad, levitating his fork with magic of midnight blue.

"I'm sure I'm a terrible kisser," Twilight went on. "I should probably read up on it a bit before—"

"Twilight."

"Hmm?"

"While, yes, both of us being constantly self-deprecating is a great basis for a relationship, really it is," Snicker-Snack said dryly, "there's something you really ought to admit to yourself."

Twilight grinned. "What's that?"

"That you're really good at this," he said simply. "See, there are occasions, when a guy's trying to get into an intimate situation, he might pull out something like this, but he'll always fail somehow. Run out of time, put something up shoddily. You? You nailed the entire atmosphere in one shot, Smiley, and in doing so, you've outdone every guy of every species on the planet, through all of history. And I raise my glass to you, the most successful romance researcher I've ever met."

He indeed raised his glass, and Twilight clinked her own glass against his.

"How many romance researchers have you met, exactly?"

"Just you. You gonna throw that in my face?" He chuckled. "Okay, how's this… the single most romantic creature I've ever had the privilege of encountering."

Twilight raised her glass again and drank. "There's an admission you should make to yourself, as well," she said softly.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, that you're dead sexy." She glared at her still-almost-full wine glass as if it had just betrayed her.

"I'm open to that possibility," Snicker-Snack said, grinning.

Twilight inhaled deeply. "Mind if I try that kiss again?"

"Go nuts. I'll try to actually participate this time."

"Yeah, what the hell was that about, man? It was like trying to kiss a doll."

"Sorry."

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

Among the numerous umbrella tables on the asphalt floors of Ponyville Plaza, Crazyface pontificated as he stood hind-legged on his little round seat, a cola in hoof.

"I wonder," he declared, "what that lovely Twilight Sparkle sees in our dear old Snicker-Snack?"

"Probably nothing," Rarity said from across the same table. "I'm sure the whole relationship is nothing but a tax dodge."

"…What?"

"Nothing."

Applejack scooted closer to Skippmud. "So, what was your name again?"

"Skippmud," the sleepy-eyed mare replied.

"Well, howdy," Applejack said, vigorously shaking her hoof. "I'm Applejack. Do you noodle?"

"Excuse me?" Skippmud said, genuinely surprised.

"Your cutie mark, it's a catfish," Applejack elaborated. "Are you a noodler?"

Skippmud seemed mildly impressed. "I noodle in my spare time. Get a good rush out of it. Have you ever?"

"Haven't you heard my accent? Of course I have."

"What… what is 'noodling'?" Rainbow Dash said, confused.

"It's when ya catch a catfish usin' your own hoof as bait," Applejack explained. "Ya let it swallow your forearm and then rip it outta the water! It's awesome."

Rainbow blinked. "…That's moronic."

"I know! Don't it sound great?"

"It's my passion," Skippmud said, not sounding particularly passionate. "But there's no money in it, y'know? Nopony is gonna pay you to catch catfish, it's not like anyone in Equestria eats meat or anything. So no, I'm not a noodler. I'm a lawyer."

Applejack tilted her head. "Money is no reason to defy your cutie mark… there's no reason to do that, I don't think."

"She's not defying it, Applejack," Rainbow Dash said. "Instead of catching scum-sucking bottom-feeders, she's being one. It all lines up."

Skippmud eyed Rainbow Dash disdainfully. "Wow," she said dryly, "that's amazing. I don't think I've ever heard that joke before. Not once. In my ENTIRE LIFE!" She was suddenly snarling.

"Okay, sorry," Dash said, holding up her hooves in surrender. "You're right, that one's too easy."

"So what do you do, smartass?" Skippmud asked sweetly.

"I'm in weather."

"…Really?" Skippmud said, perking up. "Never met a pegasus who did weather full-time. I always thought it was a volunteer gig."

"Nope, I'm a full-timer," Rainbow said proudly. "In fact, I'm the weather supervisor of Ponyville and surrounding districts. But what I really want is to be a Wonderbolt."

"A Wonderbolt?" Skippmud repeated with interest. "Now that would be something."

"Yeah," Rainbow said, suddenly on a roll. "I've got a great rapport with them. I've saved the lives of some of their members, I correspond regularly with Soarin' and Spitfire, Pegasister magazine called me the best girl flyer in Equestria. FYI, the guy who was named best guy flyer? Didn't even come close. They only wrote about him 'cause they had to…"

"So, why aren't you?"

Rainbow blinked. "Sorry?"

"You want to be a Wonderbolt—why aren't you?" Skippmud said bluntly. "If you actually have these credentials, it sounds like you should be qualified. So, if you were ever going to be a Wonderbolt, don't you think you'd be one by now?"

Rainbow blinked slowly a couple of times. "…I'm tired of this conversation," she finally said, walking over to another table. Skippmud chuckled maliciously.

"Friggin' lawyer," Rainbow Dash grumbled, glancing at Fluttershy and Big Macintosh, with whom she was sharing her new table.

"Um, Dashie, if it's not prying—" Fluttershy began.

"It is," Dash said.

"Oh," Fluttershy said awkwardly. "Okay."

They were silent for a few seconds.

"Ask the damn question, Fluttershy," Rainbow snapped.

Fluttershy flinched at the sudden retort. "Why… why aren't you a Wonderbolt?"

"I was… rejected," she said. "I can't apply again until next year."

"Why?" Fluttershy asked, pouting sympathetically.

"Failed the psych report," Rainbow sighed. "They said I was a 'loose cannon'."

"Oh… I'm so sorry!" Fluttershy said, genuinely anguished.

"Yeah," Rainbow said dejectedly. "What really kills me is that I truly know they're wrong. I know what my actual flaws are. If they'd said 'self-absorbed' or 'show-offy' or 'too awesome', I'd have gone, hey, fair's fair. But I'm not a loose cannon." She sighed, resting her head on the table. "I wish there was some way I could prove it."

"I'm really sorry, Rainbow Dash," Fluttershy said, patting Dash's head. "Better luck next year."

"Thanks."

After a bit of silence, Spike raised a claw hesitantly. "Um… Fluttershy? Hi. I'm, uh, starting to get concerned that maybe I don't have Peewee on the right diet. Think you can help me?"

"Oh, gosh, Spike," Fluttershy said, flushing with embarrassment. "I know jack and squat about phoenixes. Have you asked the Princess?"

Big Mac leaned in close to Rainbow Dash and whispered to her. "Wanna know what I think?"

"Shoot."

"I think you were too awesome, but they can't put that on a psych report, so they made that 'loose cannon' crap up."

Rainbow's eyes widened in surprise. "Wow. Just… wow. Holy Przewalski, Big Mac, you're making me blush. And I don't blush, okay?" she said, glaring at him harshly. "The closest I come is when my face is on fire. I get a little pink from that. And if you tell anypony you saw me blush, I'll set your face on fire. Got it?"

He shuddered comically. "Okay."

"…Well, I know if he dies of malnutrition, he'll come back and I can start over, but that seems to be a bit extreme," Spike was saying. "I don't wanna do that."

"Yeah, we don't want it to go that far," Fluttershy agreed.

Across the plaza, Rarity was inspecting Crazyface's cutie mark. It was three five-pointed stars—one blue, one red, one yellow, each one with thin, spiky arms with wavy edges, the stars' centers full of holes.

"'Sup?" Crazyface asked, noticing her inspection.

Her eyes snapped to his face. "Twilight tells me you're a children's entertainer," she said, not missing a beat. "What does that entail?"

"Oh, singing, songwriting, playwriting," Crazyface said absently. "Your mileage may vary on how entertaining I actually am, but I'm very attached to my work." He eyed her. "What do you care? You're not old enough to have children of your own."

Rarity giggled. "That's not true. But no, no children. I have a little sister, though, who I think is going to make a name for herself in music."

"Oh?"

"Yes," Rarity said. "She sings like an angel, writes her own songs. Still a blank flank, for some reason. Gets a bit of flak for it at school, poor dear."

"Mmm," Crazyface said sympathetically.

"But I hear she's going to direct the school play this season," Rarity continued. "I think that'll be just the break she needs!"

"A play?" Crazyface said. "You know… I've been looking for a way to get into Ponyville theater. What if I were to mentor your little sister in putting this play together?"

Rarity straightened in surprise. "Why, that would be… very generous of you, Mr. Crazyface. Thank you!"

"Just Crazyface, please," he said modestly. "But yeah, I can do that. Anything to get a filly her cutie mark, yeah? That's important to kids."

"Too true."

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

Dear Princess Celestia,

May I congratulate you on a marvelous sunrise? I'm watching it right now. Is it just me? I feel like it's one of the best sunrises I've ever seen.

I'm writing to report that, admittedly, I haven't quite "learned" anything about the magic of romantic love, per se. But trust me… I get the feeling that soon, all of the pitfalls, all of the ups and downs, all of the lessons, shall be laid bare for me to see. How do I know? Well, let's just say that I owe Rarity 20 bits and leave it at that. Trust me.

Your faithful student, Twilight Sparkle.

Twilight rolled up the note and tucked it behind her ear, ready to hand it off to Spike the moment she saw him. She turned away from the sunrise and back to her bed. The sleeping form of Snicker-Snack had been there when she had started writing the letter less than a minute earlier, but somehow he had left the room without a sound.

"Snicker-Snack?" she said, confused. She started down the stairs. "…Do I hear the stove going? What's going on?"

He lifted his head from behind her kitchen counter, beaming as his white eyes met hers. "Just makin' breakfast," he said.

Twilight swept her gaze over her kitchen. The eggs in the frying pan had their yolks completely mutilated, and the waffle-maker was overflowing onto the counter.

"Oh…" she said. "Doesn't look like breakfast is quite your milieu."

"Not at all," he admitted. "But I kind of had to."

"Why?"

"Well," he said with a disdainful smirk, "I seem to recall that in the late hours of last night, you actually asked the question, 'Will you respect me in the morning?' Now, what kind of question is that?"

She flinched. "Ugh, sorry."

"No, no, it's good," Snicker-Snack assured her. "'Cause, see, now I have to prove that yes, yes I will. I do like a challenge. So, I'm making breakfast. And after that I figure we'll go on a hike, check out various pieces of 'da nature', and then find a secluded glen of some sort where we'll unfurl a picnic lunch and I'll serenade you."

Twilight blinked. "Either I died shortly before we met and you're my eternal reward, or I just happened to stumble upon the most awesome boyfriend ever. The first one seems more likely, in the scheme of things."

"Meh," Snicker-Snack said, shrugging. "If you are dead, you're in hell. You haven't heard me try to 'serenade' yet."

Twilight smirked. "You know, we're quickly approaching the point where anything wrong with you actually adds to your appeal."

He chuckled bitterly. "Shoot, that just makes me sound like a douchebag."

"Oh, you are, you certainly are," Twilight said cheerfully. "How about I help you out a bit with that breakfast?"

"If you could, yeah."

Snicker-Snack stepped aside for her as she stepped up to the counter and called up a series of utensils. She eyed him, standing passively at the side, and used her magic to pull him across the floor, so they were touching shoulder-to-shoulder as they worked.

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

Endnotes

Hi, it's me again. The, uh, author. Wow, I haven't done an endnote since chapter 1. That's not like me. Normally I can't stop ranting and raving about how I'm not appreciated in my own time.

Anyway. Gotta love some español gratuito! Now, the purpose of this endnote is to say, before you point them out, that I'm well aware of every mistake Spike makes in his little spiel. I did it because it's funny. I mean, come on, as if anyone would actually say vino rojo. Please. Everybody knows it's vino tinto.

I know normally for a scene like that, most writers would go with French, but I don't speak French. Not that I speak Spanish either, but I know something about it, at least.