Three weeks since Adagio had come to Sunset's room. And, save for once at the Catweasel, not a peep.

Until now.

A letter – elaborate and curlicued but entirely readable – had arrived in her letterbox that morning. Adagio was inviting her out on a date, two nights from now. She was coy about where they would be going, save to say that she had planned it out, and to instruct Sunset to wear something nice – “And by that, I don't mean flashy, and I don't mean rock-chic. Something elegant.”

Once she was sure she wasn't dreaming, Sunset texted Adagio to accept. The reply, I'm glad, came ten minutes later.

Then she spent an hour choosing something to wear, eventually settling on a backless dress she'd picked for one of the formals.

As she sat on the bed, Sunset's heart was hammering. She hadn't been this excited since … since, she supposed, the first time Adagio had come to her room. She stood, looked in the mirror,and adjusted the straps of her dress once again. Another look, and she started adjusting her hair. She'd tried putting it up, but wasn't entirely satisfied with the result. And with everything else … dangly earrings, a necklace, bangles – was it too much?

Not much to do about it now.

Just as she was about to sit down again, her phone rang. It was Adagio: “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Come down, then. Get everything you need.”

Getting everything she needed consisted of Sunset slinging her purse over her shoulder. That done, she raced downstairs as quickly as her dress would allow her, and opened the door to the evening.

And there was Adagio, standing in the pale glow of the streetlight and smiling in her insouciant I-own-this-place sort of way. She wore a velvety, dark blue gown, covering her shoulders and upper arms on top, hugging every curve on the way down, ending with an ankle-length hem. As a concession to exposure, it was a slit ran all the way up to her hip. The gown slinked catlike as Adagio strode forward on her heels. As they hugged, Sunset caught a subtle trace of perfume, something sweet and lulling.

She realised she had no perfume; she realised she was at once under- and overdressed, with her run-of-the-mill dress and proliferation of jewellery (Adagio had none, save her pewter necklace).

“You look beautiful.” Adagio said it with such smooth, easy confidence that Sunset couldn't doubt it.

“Thank you,” she said. “You too.”

Adagio nodded. Head cocked, she brushed her fingers against one of Sunset's earrings and smiled. “Come on.” She took Sunset's arm and led her over to a taxi waiting by the side of the road.

The girls spoke little as the taxi rolled through the streets, but after a while, Sunset sought out Adagio's hand, and they interlaced fingers. She found herself studying Adagio's profile, then her gown as it traced her her breasts, her stomach, her thighs. It was entirely possible she was wearing nothing underneath. The thought made Sunset smile to herself. Part of her wanted to touch those curves, but it felt like doing so would break the spell of the evening. Soon after, they arrived.

A cocktail bar. Spacious, dark, with tables set into alcoves surrounding a central dance floor. A Wurlitzer jukebox beside the polished mahogany bar. Ambient jazz. Irrepressibly elegant. How like Adagio! Sunset followed her over to their booked table, and settled into the plush seat that surrounded it.

“Like it?” asked Adagio as Sunset was mulling over the menu. Her eyes twinkled.

“Oh, yes. It almost makes up for these prices.”

“Hah. Yes.”

They ditched the classics: Sunset ordered something with a sweet note and a horrible pun for a name; Adagio went for a cocktail that looked like its principle ingredients were espresso and midnight.

Conversation came easily and wandered over light topics: Sunset's adventures with math; Adagio's adventures with hairspray; Sonata's and Aria's growing relationship.

They swung towards more sensitive topics, with Adagio talking about ocean life, with an aside: “When I said you were like an anglerfish, it was just metaphor. Looks-wise, you're the total opposite.”

“Charmer. You too.”

Adagio grinned. “I know.” She finished the last of her cocktail, and after glancing around to see if anyone was watching, licked the inside of the glass. “I went down to the aquarium again,” she continued, dabbing at her lips with a napkin. “I want to volunteer there. Talking about the exhibits, like you saw. I have an interview soon. Just … something I'm good at, something I enjoy.”

Sunset stroked her hand. “That's wonderful.”

“Ha! If you say so.” Adagio's face and tone softened. “I do hope I get it, though.”

They ordered a third pair of drinks. This time, Sunset chose a mint-green something with an even worse pun for a name.

“You know,” she said., “I went the the Catweasel the other day …”

Adagio stared at her. “Oh,” she said quietly.

“I wasn't sure if I should tell you, but …”

“Ah, screw it. I don't mind.” Adagio leaned forward. “Was I any good?”

“Not as good as you used to be, but not terrible.”

“Good answer. Not as good as you, though?”

Sunset shook her head.

“It's odd. I was steeped in music for most of my life, but only ever as a tool. Coming to it again, it's like learning something entirely new.” Adagio leaned back and inspected her nails. “I'll conquer it, though.”

“I know you will.”

Adagio sipped her cocktail in silence.

Sunset fiddled with her glass, then looked up. “I understand if you don't want to answer this …”

“Oh, this should be good.” Adagio, sitting back, holding a cocktail in on hand, smiled at her.

“When you came to my room last time.” Sunset looked up to see if there was any sign for Adagio that she should stop; none came. “Everything you said about being scared. How are you feeling about it?”

Adagio gave no sign of being troubled. She held her pose, though a small crease appeared on her brow and her gaze wondered off to the side as she considered the question. “I'm still scared sometimes,” she said at last. “And I still have sleepless nights. And, I wasn't going to mention it, but you may as well know: I still feel angry about losing my magic.” She shrugged. “But I can deal.”

The surface of Sunset's cocktail quivered as she held it. Her heart fluttered as she looked at Adagio's face.

“Thank you, though,” said Adagio. “Without you, I don't know what I would've done.”

“It was nothing.”

“But you really need to get over that false modesty thing.” And, after emptying her glass, Adagio continued: “Anyway, I think that's enough touchy-feely crap for tonight. Wait there.”

Adagio stood and sauntered over to the jukebox to choose a song. Halfway through her return, there came an energetic glissando from the speakers, and a swing song burst into life. She began to step in time without the music – that gown was perfect for showing off her swinging hips.

At the table she extended a hand, palm up. “Sunset Shimmer, would you like to dance?”

Don't waste time on words. Sunset Shimmer placed her fingers over Adagio's, and let herself be pulled up and onto the dance floor.

For the first half of the song, they were the only couple on the dancefloor. Then others began to join them. Effortless centre of attention, shading into leader of the pack. Sunset twirled. Some of her hair had escaped and flew up as she did so; she didn't try and fix it. A second song came on, and she reached out and pulled Adagio in close. Again that hint of perfume. The soft velvet gown against her fingers. Adagio's hand on the small of her back.

And then the dance drew them apart again. Another strand of hair escaped. Glimpses of Adagio's leg through the gown's slit as it billowed out. Even with her heels, she was graceful. The tempo slowed, and they drew together again. Sunset's hands came to rest on Adagio's waist; Adagio's went to Sunset's shoulders.

Sunset could feel the pressure of Adagio's body against her own, smell her perfume, feel her breath. She looked up into Adagio's eyes. Adagio smiled at her, at once powerful and serene. As they swayed together, Sunset moved her hands down, taking in the breadth of Adagio's hips, and coming to rest only when she could slide her fingers on one side beneath the gown's slit to rest against the skin.

Adagio breathed in. A tiny tremor went through her body, and her lips parted briefly. Sunset looked into her eyes for what seemed like an eternal moment. Then, moving together, they both came forward and kissed.

After they drew away, Sunset found herself trembling. Her hands dug into Adagio's hips.

Adagio reached up and twisted a free strand of Sunset's hair round her finger. “I think it's time to leave,” she said.

Author's Notes:

Warning: Next chapter contains sex.