WHAT’S NOT TO LIKE?

Hi there. My name is Cloud Kicker.

Wait, no, hang on. I didn’t set this up right. If I had, then you’d know that for this to work I’m going to need you to think “Hi Cloud Kicker” right after I say that. Just trust me on this.

So, right. Hi there. My name is Cloud Kicker, and I am so bucking amazing- and so amazing at bucking- that I really shouldn’t be allowed to exist.

That’s the only thought that comes to mind as I wake up, uncomfortably smothered by body heat, and find that I’m sharing my bed with two other ponies, both of whom are out cold. An especially adorable mare is actually wrapped around my shoulder, pinning me down. Not that I’m complaining. I only wish I remembered her name. Time for the usual Saturday morning ritual of ‘what did I do last night, and how many ponies did I do it with?’ At least I already know the answer to the second part of that is ‘two or more.’

What can I say? If you know you aren’t going remember more than a few bits and pieces of an evening, all you can do is make sure those bits and pieces you do remember are spectacular enough to make up for it. Not that any of us managed to get quite that plastered. Things are a lot more fun when you don’t have to worry about one of your partners passing out in the middle of it, and the notion of losing control of my own actions hasn’t ever been one that’s appealed to me. Well... unless fuzzy hoofcuffs are involved. I debate whether I should get moving or whether I should bask in the afterglow for a little longer. The sudden sensation of drool running through my coat tips the balance, and I ever so gently extricate myself from the situation.

This is, in fact, my bedroom, so I won’t be going very far. The familiar bookshelves and the decorative wingblades hanging on the wall tell me that much. The mare who was cuddled up against me shifts and moans at my absence, but soon just rolls over to latch onto the unicorn stallion on her other side instead. I can’t help but smile. Spiral is one of my regular banging buddies, on the off days when he can manage to ditch his daughter at a sleepover or something. Who knows, maybe he and this mare will hit it off. Wouldn’t be the first time an orgy I threw together turned into a matchmaking opportunity. That’s me, practically Cupid except with a vastly improved love-spreading technique compared to stabbing somepony in the chest from range.

If I want that to pay off, though, I’m going to need to get going. Fact of life number one: Nopony will ever fall for a partner when they’re ravenously hungry. Fact number two: Nopony who just spent the night with two other ponies will awaken and not be ravenously hungry, especially when one of those ponies was me. If the pleasant ache in my thighs and back is anything to go by, we all got quite the workout last night.

Slipping downstairs, I start the routine that’s tested and proven to get ponies up and moving from my bed as quickly as possible. Not that I’d throw them out, but a mare’s got stuff to do on her day off and leaving strangers alone in my house has never sat well with me. Luckily, there’s one thing that’ll bring even the heaviest sleepers back to reality, and that’s the smell of freshly-cooked breakfast.

I’ve gotten quite good at making a meal big enough for three on the spur of a moment. I once had a partner of mine tell me, half-joking (but only half) that the main reason she kept coming back was for the food. The punishment I’d inflicted upon her in response was as devastating as it was sexy, and by four in the morning she’d begged to retract her previous statement. I graciously allowed it. Turning my attention to the contents of my refrigerator, I take stock of the ingredients within and what I can do with them. I’ve got everything I need to whip up a quiche, and some spinach to stick into it. Pulling out what I need and rooting around for a mixing bowl as my oven starts to heat up, I pull out a loaf of bread for toast and put on some coffee. After a moment’s consideration, I toss in an extra scoop of grounds. I’m still a little hung over.

As I get everything moving right along, there’s a short window where everything that needs to be done is done, and there’s nothing to do but wait. I take that opportunity to take a lingering look outside my kitchen window at the sun rising over Ponyville. My professional opinion is that the weather should be pleasantly cool, especially since the afternoon is scheduled to be overcast. That’s the weekend shift’s problem though, not mine. They’re a younger, less experienced crew, part-timers who just do weather work to earn a couple extra bits. What they lack in practice they make up for in being extra worshipful of Rainbow Dash.

I’m distracted from my ruminations by the sound of a door slamming shut from the direction of my bathroom. That fresh coffee smell gets ‘em every time. A minute later, as I’m pouring coffee into a trio of mugs, my two partners from the night before emerge with a sleepy yawn.

“Morning, Spiral,” I say as I hoof over the first cup to the red stallion along with the two lumps of sugar he takes it with. “And good morning to you too. Sorry, I’m terrible with names first thing in the morning.”

“It’s Vibrant,” says the little yellow unicorn. The memories of last night come racing back. They’re enjoyable ones.

“Oh, yeah! Hey, you were awesome at karaoke last night. Not that I’m complaining about anything else you can do with that tongue of yours. Neither is Spiral here, am I right?” I ask as I grin at him.

His red coat utterly fails to hide the way he's blushing. Honestly, some ponies. He a pretty charismatic guy when he isn’t trying to be, but tease him a little and he just goes to pieces. “You really do have a beautiful voice,” he says to her.

Yes! Go Spiral! Vibrant’s turn to look bashful now, pushing a bit of her mussed-up mane away from where it’s hanging from her own horn. “Th-thank you, Spiral. It’s just a hobby though, I’m a composer and songwriter, not really good enough to sing professionally.”

“That’s not true, from what I heard last night I’d come to see you perform in a heartbeat,” says Spiral.

“Hey, Spiral, weren’t you saying that you were thinking about getting vocal lessons for Twist?” I ask. He hadn’t said anything of the sort, actually, but he’s not dumb enough to contradict me when I’m moving in for the kill.

“Who’s Twist?” asks Vibrant.

“She’s my daughter,” says Spiral. “I love her to death, but her mother and I didn’t really get along that well. When she was offered a research position in Manehatten... We haven’t been together for a couple years now.”

“It’s really great how you take care of her on your own and run your own business,” I call back to the table before I wrap a dish towel around my hoof and reach into the oven to pull out my quiche.

“Your own business?” asks Vibrant, leaning over a little closer to him.

“Well, I don’t like to brag...”

Heh. Liar. “Oh, don’t be so modest Spiral. Your candy is the best in town. Don’t tell Bon Bon I said that, though. Anyway, maybe Vibrant could come over and give Twist some pointers on being a better singer.”

“Cloud Kicker, you can’t just volunteer her like that.”

“I wouldn’t mind!” says Vibrant quickly. Quickly enough that she has to know she’s given the game away and blushes a bit as I cut the quiche into three portions. “I mean, I’d love to meet her sometime.”

“Perfect,” I declare, “it’s a date. Now be careful, this just came out of the oven so it’ll be almost as hot as the mare who made it.” I slide the plates over to them with a wink. My work done, I excuse myself to head to the bathroom and run a brush through my own mane so they can chat by themselves while the food cools. On an impulse, I flash a winning grin at the mirror just so I can see exactly how devastatingly attractive I am. “You still got it, babe,” I tell that hot piece of fuschia pegasus looking back at me. I splash a little cold water on my face to finish waking myself up, then head back to the kitchen for my own breakfast.

Half an hour after the food is gone, the budding couple leaves together. It’s time for me to begin going about my day. It’s off to a great start. I knew, last night, when I saw Spiral gaping over at the mare up on stage, that they’d hit it off. Not that I only hooked them up out of altruism, though. Uniting happy couples pretty much guarantees future opportunities for them to thank me, and they’re very open minded about all the ways to do so.

I whistle a cheerful little tune, an old marching song from West Hoof, as I scrub the grease and cheese out of the pan. It’s an old pan, and its seen better days, but I like it. Gives my cooking a little more personality, I think. Besides, I’m not going to blow my bits on replacing something that still has plenty of life left in it. My family got rich the old fashioned way; by not spending money on stupid crap we didn’t need. It was something my mother took care to beat into my head at an early age, and it stuck. I guess they can take comfort that something did. The usual post-banging cleanup routine is over within an hour or so. Replacing the dirty sheets on my bed with a fresh set and tossing the old ones into my rickety old washing machine with a healthy scoop of detergent and bleach, I go down the mental checklist of things I need to do today. It’s a fairly short list; the most pressing thing is restocking my pantry. That quiche this morning wiped out most of the food left in the house, so if I want to eat a lunch that’s more satisfying than the almost-stale heel of a loaf of bread I’ll need to go shopping. No way I’m blowing my food budget on an extra meal out.

Sliding my saddlebags over my head and tightening it around my barrel with a quick tug on the strap, I step out into the morning sunlight. It’s still early, so I’ll have my pick of freshest fruits and vegetables down at the town square. Everypony with some wares to hock should be set up by now, and I trot along waving at the neighbors who are starting their own routines. A few of them get extra winks and bigger smiles than the others. Nothing, to say nothing of nopony, on the agenda for later tonight. A repeat of last night wouldn’t be unwelcome, though. Wouldn’t want any of my regulars to start feeling unloved.

I probably should pay less attention to my fantasy about that flexible little filly with the orange mane and more to where I’m headed. Colliding with the wagon in front of me is a well-deserved consequence.

“Oh, my goodness,” says the light green pegasus who’s pulling the wagon. “Are you alright?” She unhitches herself from the front and walks around to where I’m sitting in the street rubbing what will soon be a bump on my head. She pushes one of the two long, blonde braids, tied off with some orange ribbons, out of her face and looks at me closely.

“I’m fine,” I reply, “totally my fault, wasn’t watching where I was going.” I almost turn to leave, but something nags at my mind. I know most ponies in town, or at least recognize them, but not her. She’s cute in a kinda understated sort of way, so I might not have noticed her before, but... “Hey, have we met?”

She shakes her head. “Doubt it, since I’m only moving into town today. My name’s Azalea. I live, uh, well I’m actually having trouble finding the house but I think it’s around here somewhere.”

“What’s the address?”

“1273 Rockefilly Street.”

I brighten right up. “Oh, wow! That’s right around the corner from my place. Not many pegasi live groundside around here. I’m Cloud Kicker, by the way.”

“Tough to grow flowers if your front yard is made of cumulus,” she says. A grin starts to spread over her face, and she blushes a bit. Oh Princess, I know that grin. She’s interested in me. Not that she shouldn’t be, of course, and if I play my cards right there could be another name crossed off my ‘to bang’ list by the end of the weekend. “If you could you point me in the right direction I’d be really grateful.”

“No way! I’ll walk you there.” Her blush gets a little deeper.

“You really don’t have to do that,” she says.

“Hey, I remember how tough it is moving to a new town before you know anypony,” I say. I walk back with her to the front of the wagon and grab hold. The first pull surprises me. “Geeze, this is heavy. How far have you been dragging this thing?”

“All the way from Trottingham. Took me a couple of days,” she replies as she takes the other side. With both of us working together the trip to her new home only takes a few minutes. The mousey little thing is a lot stronger than she looks. We pull it into her driveway and I reach over to her and with a few quick pats of my wing knock some of the dust off her cutie mark, a purple flower. She startles a bit at the contact, and the blush that had started to fade from her face returns in full force. “Thank you. So you said you moved here too? Where from?”

“Canterlot, originally. My whole family’s from there.”

“Kicker... wait, you’re Kicker clan?”

I blink a couple times. I guess our name is well known enough that even ponies in Trottingham have heard of us. “Yep, that’s us. Most of my family’s in the royal guard, I’m kinda an exception though.”

“Hey, my family just grows flowers. I’d love to hear all about what your family does in the guard,” she says. I chuckle. This mare must have it bad for me if she’s so desperate for a conversation topic that she’d volunteer to be exposed to the weirdness of my extended family. Before I can reply, though, the wagon she’s been hitched to starts to rattle and shake. Out of the heap of stuff piled into it pops a very pink and poofy head.

“Hold it right there, pal! You can’t fool me!” declares Pinkie Pie with an accusing hoof pointed towards Azalea.

“Who are you, and how did you get into my wagon?” asks Azalea with equal parts alarm and confusion painted on her face. To be fair, that’s a pretty standard reaction to encountering Pinkie for the first time.

Pinkie looks at her empty hoof for a moment, confused by something’s absence, then reaches it into her mane and pulls out two small notes. She thrusts them out at us again. “I don’t know how you snuck through my checkpoints, but you’re new in town! And if you’re new in town that means it’s time for a Welcome to Ponyville Party! This afternoon! As in this afternoon this afternoon! Oh, and I’m Pinkie Pie, of course!”

“I guess I’ll see you this afternoon, then?” says Azalea. Looking down at the invitation, I see that Pinkie’s already booked the reception room at Town Hall from four to seven. Seems I have plans for tonight now. It’s a bad idea to blow off her parties without a good reason. That’s a good way to get yourself hunted down by the party planner until she corners you in a dark alley where she’ll ruthlessly be adorable at you until you promise to come to the next one.

“Thanks, Pinkie,” I say and she ducks back down into the wagon. It rocks a couple more times, then goes still.

“Is... is she just going to stay there while I unload my things?” asks Azalea.

“Oh, she’s not in there anymore. She’ll have gotten somewhere else by now.”

“But I just saw-”

“You’ll get used to her. Well, sort of.” I explain. Indeed, most of the ponies in town had come to terms with Pinkie’s... Pinkieness. Those who couldn’t rarely stuck around very long, or if they did they did so as permanent residents of the hospital's mental health ward. That was only the one time, though.

“Isn’t she some kind of superhero or something?”

“You mean one of the Bearers? Yeah, they all live around here. Most of them aren’t quite like that, though.” I smile at her. “Want me to introduce you to them before the party?”

Azalea’s eyes go wide and she can’t shake her head fast enough. “That’s not necessary, they probably have way better things to do than hang out with me. But I do appreciate the offer.”

“You’ll run into them eventually, I guess. Well, I’m heading to the market for some food shopping if you want to come with me. I’m guessing that there isn’t any food in your cabinets if you just moved in.”

Azalea nods. “Yeah, I don’t really feel like unloading now. I’ve been pulling this thing for hours now just trying to get here, and I won’t last long as a salespony if I eat all my flowers. Speaking of which...” with a flap of her wings she lands on the top of one of the piles in the wagon and goes rooting around in it before pulling out her namesake flower, “...this is for you, just as a ‘thanks for helping me’ present.”

I’m not really hungry after my breakfast earlier, but I’m not about to turn down anypony offering me flowers. Three bites later, I’ve munched it down. “Mmm. Mmm! These are good.”

“Thanks, I grew them myself. I had a unicorn put a bunch of them under a preservation spell, so I can start selling them first thing tomorrow while I get my garden tilled and fresh ones growing.” With that, she throws a tarp over the wagon and scoops a few bits into a bag around her neck. She gestures that she’s ready and we head into town for a shopping trip, chatting away. She tells me all about her parents and her younger brother, while I regale her with only-slightly-exaggerated stories about some of the exploits my relatives have gotten up to, along with a few of the saucier stories of things I did when I was just a cadet at West Hoof. She’s hanging on every word. I guess she actually is interested in this stuff, go figure. Just as we’re passing the library, I seize on an impulse.

“Hey, you should meet Twilight Sparkle. She lives right here,” I say. If there’s one mare I don’t have to worry about stealing Azalea from me, it’d be her. I don’t think she even knows what sex is. Wait, strike that, she could probably give me an extensive definition of it she read about in a book sometime. She’s a nice enough pony, even if she does tick me off sometimes. I learned pretty quickly that she didn’t appreciate being teased, so I don’t do that to her anymore. Much, anyway. Still, she seems to resent the fact that I even exist.

“I don’t know, Cloud Kicker. The Element of Magic probably has important stuff she should be doing,” says Azalea. The way her ears have gone flat make me reconsider my idea.

I step over to the front door and raise a hoof to knock anyway. “Nah, she’s probably just sitting around with her nose in a-”

“Spike!” calls out a voice from behind the door, cutting me off. “Grab the fire extinguisher, a lead-lined fishbowl, and the orange hazmat suit from under the sink and bring them down to the basement right now!” Azalea and I stare at the door for a few more seconds, before a loud ‘WUMPH’ sound shakes the entire tree.

“Actually, you’re right. She’s probably busy. Sounds like they’re in the middle of something kinky,” I say, winking at her. She giggles, an adorable giggle, and we head for the market stalls. We part ways after I point out a couple of vendors she should get to know, and as I head over to buy some tomatoes I see Azalea striking up a conversation with Applejack. I guess she got over her hero worship, or just doesn’t realize who she is. It’s not long before my bags are full to bursting with produce, but I’ve lost track of Azalea in the process. Oh well, I’ll catch her at the party later, at least. No need to smother her with attention all day; better to leave her craving more than wear out my welcome. I head back home to get the food put away, and then turn to the very dull task of sifting through the mail and bills that have piled up on my counter over the last couple of days. Mostly bills and junk, although one cream-colored envelope with a familiar return address and the strong smell of perfume gets put aside to be read last. Business before pleasure, or these bills won’t get paid on time.

By the time I’ve finished the mail, adding an appointment to visit the home of a very attractive masseuse who does some incredible things with her hooves in the process, I find myself without too much else to do before the party tonight. I grab a quick workout with the weights I keep down in my basement and just generally knock around the house at loose ends for a little while before I hop into the shower to start getting ready. I skipped lunch knowing that any Pinkie party will be well-catered, if a bit heavy on chocolate and icing concoctions. Cleaning the dust and sweat out of my coat, I find my mind wandering back to what I’d told Azalea about my family. I really should make plans to go to Canterlot one of these days and see them, it’s something I’ve been putting off for a while now. Still, five minutes after I set hoof in my parents’ house I’ll be on the receiving end of a lecture that I could probably deliver word for word myself at this point. Dad at least pretends to be okay with me living here in Ponyville and working on the weather team, but Mom can’t resist any opportunity to tell me I need to settle down and ‘make something of myself,’ whatever that even means.

It’s a good thing I’m standing under cold, running water because it helps fight back the heat I feel rising up in my chest whenever I think about these kinds of things. I love my parents, but on this particular issue they can go buck themselves. I’m happy, I work enough to make ends meet, and I have a bunch of friends around town. What’s wrong with any of that?

They aren’t even really here and I’m getting defensive just imagining seeing them. Rather than dwell on that any longer I try to psych myself up for the party. Sitting around the house alone all afternoon makes my hooves tingle, I’m glad I have somewhere to go and be around other ponies to recharge. Plus if the party’s done by seven, there’ll be plenty of time for me to take anypony I connect with home for a celebration of our own. Probably not the guest of honor, I’d rather play that out a little slower, but that leaves plenty of other options open to me. Shutting off the water and toweling myself off, I go back and forth on the question of whether to wear anything before finally settling on au naturale with a simple little necklace that used to belong to my great-grandmother. Why not show everypony at the party what they could have if they just say yes?

I arrive at the party a few minutes after four, and about a half-dozen guests have beaten me there. “Hiya, Cloud Kicker!” says Pinkie Pie, rushing over to greet me as I walk into the room. “Thanks for coming to the welcome party for my new friend Azalea. Let me introduce you to her.”

“I’ve met her, Pinkie. I was standing next to her when you handed us our invitations this morning, remember?”

Pinkie blinks several times and I imagine I can hear the gears in her head grinding against one another. Actually, I’m not entirely sure I’m imagining it, or if there’s some mechanical contraption in that mane of hers that she forgot to properly maintain. “Oh yeah!” she finally says and the odd noise I’m not sure I was hearing in the first place stops. “Well, enjoy the party. Oh, hey Fluttershy. You made it.”

With that, she darts away to greet her friend who’s walked in from the other side of the room. I glance over to Azalea, who’s chatting with another pony. There's a pink paper crown perched on her head marking her as the center of attention. The whole room is completely decked out in balloons and streamers cover every available surface. She looks back at me and smiles, giving me a small nod of acknowledgement before turning back to the stallion.

“Hey Cloud,” says Rainbow Dash as she lands next to me.

“Heya Dash. Having fun so far? What do you think of the new mare?”

“Eh, she seems cool, I guess. Kinda boring though. When I told her I ran the weather team she started asking all kinds of stuff about the weather schedule, what the town disaster plans were, what forms she had to fill out to join the weather reserve, not one question about how I got so awesome,” says Rainbow.

“So you told her you were the weather manager, and she mistakenly assumed you were a responsible pillar of the community,” I say with a roll of my eyes. Despite coming to her defense, that was kind of a nerdy thing to talk about at a party. Still, pegasi are supposed to register with the weather office in case they need to be drafted for weather emergencies so maybe she was just being responsible, or assumed that Rainbow Dash would be the kind of pony who gave a crap about paperwork.

“Whatever. You know where she lives, right? So it’s not like I couldn’t get in touch with her if I needed to. Who cares if it’s written down somewhere?”

“Nopony, Rainbow. Well, except for our bosses in Cloudsdale, the central weather office, the mayor...”

“Yeah, yeah. I get your point,” says Dash.

“...anypony who might need to fill in for you one day, anypony who might need to fill in for me one day, the inspectors who have already written you up twice for misfiling information, want me to keep going?” I ask. When she glares at me I give her my most innocent and adorable smile.

“You’re just taking her side because you want to bang her,” says Dash.

Guilty as charged. “Why, you got your eye on her too? Give me a couple days and I’m sure I could talk her into letting you join us.”

Dash scoffs. “Never going to happen. Still, you could at least give her a while to settle in before you try to jump her. Raindrops told me how you two were all chummy in the market this afternoon.”

“I was home all afternoon. We just walked into town together after I ran into her cart and helped her find her new house, but that was this morning,” I say. Raindrops must have been wrong about the time, or she must have seen Azalea talking to somepony else and thought it was me. More guests are starting to trickle in, but nopony I’ve been especially hoping to bed. The afternoon is still young, though. Rainbow Dash chats a little more with me about a downpour coming up in a few days before losing interest in discussing work. We wander over to the refreshment table together and hang out there for a bit longer munching on the snacks before we naturally drift away to talk to other ponies. I’m in the lurch for a few minutes before I spot Cheerilee against the far wall, and decide to see if she’s got any school uniforms that would fit a grown mare...

-------------------------

“Sorry, Cloud Kicker. Not interested,” says the stallion before he abruptly walks away.

Damn it. Struck out again. The party’s starting to wind down now and I haven’t managed to find anypony to take me up on my suggestions of how to spend the rest of the evening. Everypony either isn’t interested or already has other plans that don’t include me. I did snag a rain check from Flitter so that’s something, but it’s a small comfort. I hang out a bit longer salving my wounded pride with the tangy fruit punch and brownies.

“Hey,” says Azalea sliding up to the table beside me.

“Hey there,” I say. Maybe this night is looking up after all. “How was it meeting everypony?”

She laughs. “Exhausting. I’m pretty sure I’m about to pass out on my hooves, and I’ve already forgotten half the names they told me.”

“Well, the party’s pretty much over. If you’re tired I’ll walk you back home.”

“Really? Shouldn’t I help clean up?”

“Nope!” says Pinkie Pie, popping out from underneath the table. To Azalea’s credit, she only flinches a little bit. Already well on her way to being a proper resident of Ponyville. “What kind of host makes her guest do all the cleaning? I’ve got this.”

“Wow, thanks Pinkie. You’re a really good friend,” says Azalea.

Pinkie squeals with glee and grabs her in a big hug. I’m close enough that I end up wrapped up in it too, somehow, but I take advantage of it to wrap a wing around Azalea too. Once Pinkie’s wandered away Azalea nods to me and takes me up on my offer. We walk out together into the starry night, a cool breeze in the air, and start the walk back to our neighborhood. It would probably be quicker to fly, but I take a longer route than we did this morning so I can point out a couple points of interest around town. When we get to the residential area our conversation peters out a bit until Azalea leans into me. “Looked like you were hitting on quite a few ponies back at the party tonight.”

I grin. “How interesting that you were watching me closely enough to notice.”

She stiffens up a little knowing she’s busted, but then relaxes again. “I just... a couple of the ponies I talked to said you have kind of a reputation for that kind of thing.”

“Yeah, that’s true. I’ve certainly earned it. Some of my friends used to joke that I must actually be part changeling.”

I keep walking, but stop when I realize that I can no longer feel her body against mine. I turn and see her standing very still underneath a lamppost, the shadows it casts over her face making her impossible to read.

“I hate changelings. They’re a bunch of disgusting insects and they should all be squashed accordingly,” she says.

Yikes. I think I hit a nerve there. “Sorry, Azalea, it was just a joke. Did something... happen to you because of them? Do you want to talk about it?”

She shakes her head. “I’ve never met one, or at least don’t think that I have. Ever since the invasion during the royal wedding, though, the idea’s creeped me out. Sorry, I know you were just kidding. Maybe we could talk about something else instead?”

I gesture for her to keep walking, and a moment later she does. “Sure. So how was it meeting the Bearers at the party tonight?”

“Twilight Sparkle wasn’t there, but I got to talk to the others a little bit. I don’t think Rainbow Dash liked me very much.”

“She’ll warm up to you. You just have to talk to her about something other than paperwork. Next time you have a free forty-five minutes ask her about the Wonderbolts.”

Azalea chuckles, her good mood back as quickly as it had vanished a moment before. “Thanks for being so good to me today, Cloudy,” she says. The sudden appearance of a nickname is a good sign too.

“It’s no problem,” I tell her as we turn the corner onto her street. As we walk up to her house, we both stop and stare at what’s in her driveway. Her completely loaded cart full of all the furniture she brought along.

I feel the vibration in my ribs as Azalea growls at the defiant cart, as if she’s willing it to unload itself. “Ugh, I’m too tired to deal with this tonight. Help me fish out a blanket and a pillow and I’ll just crash on my floor.”

“No way, Azalea. Come stay at my place tonight instead. You’ll sleep a lot better,” I offer.

She looks up at me with a raised eyebrow. “Cloudy... I might be interested in that kind of thing down the line. I do like you. But I really am way too tired tonight for what sounds like a sneaky plan to get me into bed.”

“It absolutely isn’t that. Unless it’s working,” I say with a smile. “Seriously, I’ll even take the couch and you can sleep in my bed if you want to.”

“That’s a very generous offer,” she says, leaning forward and giving me a peck on the cheek that speeds up my heart rate a little bit. “Lead the way.”

We trot back the way we came and take another turn, and a few blocks later we’re home. I hold the door open for her as she walks in and looks around, getting a feel for the place as I grab an extra blanket from the hallway closet. Azalea’s already settling onto my couch as I drape it over her. She doesn’t protest when I crawl under the blanket with her and snuggle up between her body and the cushions. “Comfy?”

“Yeah,” she says and her voice already sounds like it’s drifting away. “You feel nice. Fuzzy.”

With a quiet little snort of amusement I drape a hoof over her shoulder and lay there with her, both our eyes closed, and Azalea drifts off to sleep. It’s not all that late, I should get up and go do something. Can’t quite seem to find the motivation to pull myself away from this nice, warm spot.

Twenty minutes later, there are two sleeping ponies cuddled up together on my too-small living room couch.