Sunlight from the window fell upon Pinkie’s face, making the drool from the corner of her mouth shine. Her limbs were sprawled all over the place, her hair a complete mess. Snores came from her mouth, in time with the rise and fall of her stomach.

Spike watched her, disgusted and amazed in a sense. He had grown up on Twila telling him stories about the brave knights like Lancelot, or the royal daughter’s father, King Arthur, how they could awaken and break curses by a simple kiss.
As Spike looked to Pinkie’s lips, then to the drool on the pillow, another thought came to him instead. Grinning, he reached over, clasping a hand over her mouth and squeezing her nostrils shut, counting down in his head from ten.

On the count of one, her eyes shot open and suddenly, she managed to push up against Spike with surprising strength. Flipping him over, she grabbed a pillow and started smacking him repeatedly, her eyes changing from genuine fear to single-minded fury as she realized what was going on.

“That’s! Not! A! Good! Wake! Up! Call!” she shouted, slamming the pillow upon Spike between every word.

“A great prank though!” he replied from the fetal position, cradling his head protectively in his hands as she rained hell down upon him.

She threw the pillow away, leaning down to his ear. She whispered softly, yet sternly, “You don’t wanna start a prank war with me, busta.”

“Afraid the young buck’ll take your stride away, grandma?” he countered, his voice low and challenging as he reached up and gave a small rub to her elbow. “Because experience’ll only get you so far.”

“Hah! You could ever only do the basic pranks, and I’d see them coming. But me?” Pinkie made a square gesture with her fingers. “I think outside the box.” her fingers parted, wiggling in the air.

“And I learned from the best,” Spike replied. “How about a… wager? Make things interesting.”

Pinkie’s eyes narrowed, giving Spike a hard, challenging gaze. “You’re so on.”

“Rules,” he started, raising a finger. “No third parties involved. One versus one here. We got one week to plan this out. And no groin hits.”

“Deal,” Diane agreed, narrowing her brow. “Winner gets what?”

“You decide.”

“Hum, okay…” Pinkie thought it over for a bit more, humming as she did so. When the thought finally came, she raised a finger, even her hair seeming to get a bit more vibrant with her. “I got it! I want breakfest in bed. For a week. ‘Cause you’re a real good cook.”

“That’s it?” Spike said, blinking. “I’d do that for you anyway, if you asked.” He scratched at his chin. “I didn’t expect yours to be so… nice, honestly. I should rethink mine.”

“While wearing a maid’s outfit,” Pinkie finished.

“A maid’s outfit…” he trailed off, looking flatly towards her. “I take it back. You’re on now.”

“A pink one,” she added, licking her lips.

“I win? I buy you some underwear. You have to wear it and nothing else when we’re alone for a week,” he countered, crossing his arms. She popped up and gave an easy shrug.

“Sure, deal,” the girl replied with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Can you at least act like it’s a big deal?” he complained.

“I was expecting something way worse, so you won’t hear a peep out of me!” she chirped.

“What? I could have asked for something better?”

“Too late!” Standing she stretched and looked out the window. “Let’s go, Spikie. I bet breakfast’s been on the table for a bit now!”

“Alright, alright,” Spike agreed, holding his hand to her. “Help me up.”

With another shrug, she grabbed the boy and slung him over her shoulder. She adjusted for his weight with a small grunt. “Definitely getting bigger.”

“Hey!” he exclaimed in surprise. “What are you doing?”

“Carrying you,” Pinkie answered simply.

“Why?” Spike asked, trying to wiggle free from her grip. Slumping in defeat, he sighed. “And at least make it look like it’s a challenge.”

Pinkie patted the boy’s back, then set him down carefully. “Nah. I wouldn’t embarrass you like that. We can hold hands instead or something.”

“I like that better. I swear, earth-folk sometimes,” he said, shaking his head.

“Jelly,” she snickered, reaching out with her hand.

“Until you need me to light a fire again,” Spike answered back.

The scent of scrambled eggs and sausage hit them like a sack of bricks halfway down the flight of stairs. Spike went down faster, a spring in his step.

They came to the dining room, where Rarity sat, reading over the morning paper as she sipped casually at a cup of espresso.

“Good morning, you two,” she addressed, not looking up from the article she read. “Enjoy your night?”

“We sure did!” Pinkie chirped, skipping over to her seat and plonking herself down.

“Mmm,” Rarity answered. “Well, have a seat. Jack and Mac have started their day already.”

“Doing more farm work?” Pinkie asked, starting to carve up her sausages.

“Indeed. A fenceline got ruined last night. Cattle, I swear. I can understand Jack’s want for meat every meal. It seems the only way to spite the beasts.”

“At least the best way to spite them without wasting anything!” Pinkie agreed with a sing-song tone, bringing a sausage to her mouth and swallowing it blissfully.

“Well, that and leather, I suppose.”

“I never expected you to be a leather girl,” Pinkie admitted with a coy smile. Spike paused, looking between the two.

“Is that a euphemism,” he asked, “or…?”

“Depends on if you want it to be,” Pinkie said with a grin as Rarity took a casual drink of her beverage.

“I suppose it would depend on Jack’s mood on if it were a euphemism or not,” Rarity remarked, her poker face strong in the morning as she continued her routine.

“Eupha-what?” Jack asked, right on time as she stepped through the living room and entered the dining room, the farmhouse’s front screen door fluttering shut with a quiet click. She stared down at a letter, already dismissing the group’s conversation as more pressing matters caught her eye.

“Nothing, dear,” Rarity said, taking a glance at the object Jack held. “What has you so enraptured?”

“Somethin’ kinda intrestin’. ’I, uh, probably shoulda grabbed the mail yesterday,” Jack admitted. “Glad ya two are still here fer this.” Walking towards them, she tossed the letter down onto the table, giving an encouraging nod. “Lookie right there.”
Glancing to Pinkie, then to Jack, Spike leaned forward and started to read the letter.

Jack, Rarity

I hope two are making the best of your time off together. I’m sure you’ve come up with a few ideas on what to do while Rarity is on break. (Jack, make sure she doesn’t spend all her time away from school working!)

I have an important reason to write to you, of course, so I may as well inform you—trivialities can be saved for later. You are invited to attend our first annual midharvest banquet on this upcoming Friday. Although you are not a student at Cloudsdale academy anymore, you’ve done more than enough for the school, let alone the country, that I insist you come. In addition to the festivities, there is now a pressing business matter I’d wish to discuss with you personally.

May the light guide your steps:

Celestia

Below this, in a more playful-looking cursive, she had added:

PS, bring your family! The more the merrier, after all!

“So,” Jack asked. “What y’all think?”

“A banquet? Cool!” Spike agreed. “It’s on our way back anyway. Why not go?”

“Sounds fun! Why wouldn’t we take the excuse to go to a good party. Maybe the others will be there!” Pinkie cheerfully cried, her plate now completely clean.

“Should we ask your brother and Zecora too?” Rarity asked, then added to herself. “Gracious, I have so little time to consider a dress, I suppose I can rely on the supplies in St. Charles. That should be serviceable to my needs.”

Like usual, Jack separated the wheat from the chaff in Rarity’s words, ignoring Rarity’s outspoken inner thoughts and instead gave a simple shrug to her actual question.“I doubt they’ll be game, sug.” Jack shrugged. “Ya know Mac don’t like crowds, an’ Zecora’s jus’ ‘bout the same. I’ll ask ‘em after we take care-a some business ‘round here, though.”

“If they don’t wanna go, we can bring them something back,” Pinkie suggested, wiping her mouth and fingers with a napkin.

“I do know someone who’d love to join us, though,” Rarity remarked, finally putting her paper down and finishing up her drink. “Bloom.”

“Well…” Jack rubbed at her chin. “‘Long as it ain’t a, uh, grown up party or nothin’. Can’t see the harm.”

“It’ll be grown up but not in the kinda way you’re worrying about,” Pinkie said. “Not like there’ll be people downing whole kegs everywhere or anything.”

“I guess. I’ll jus’ keep an eye on her there.” She nodded, as if that settled the matter, then sat down at the table. “So, what were ya talkin’ ‘bout ‘fore I came in with the big news?”

“About how great and tasty this breakfast is!” Pinkie quickly said, pulling Spike close. “Ain’t that right, Spikey?”

Spike gave a nervous laugh, looking at all three of them while he did. Jack took of her hat and scratched at her blonde locks, the third wheel in this case.

“It ain’t too bad. Was gonna have some rolls with it, but I took them outta the oven too soon an was in such a rush ta get goin’, I forgot ta put ‘em back in.” Jack gave a small chuckle of her own, shaking her head.

Pinkie stood up, walking around to the back of Spike and throwing her arms over him. “C’mon Spike. We oughta get ready for the day, huh?”

“Yeah, totally,” Spike agreed with a nod. “Let’s go, girl.”

Pinkie still had her arms over him while they all saw the train coming into the station. The lumbering vehicle slowly came to a stop, puffing out bursts of hot steam. The train finally eased up and let out a loud hiss, before the doors opened and passengers got off.

“That’ll be you one day,” Pinkie said, inclining Spike’s head towards the steam from the train.

“What? Steam?” he asked, not understanding. “I can already do that, Pinkie. I just need a glass of water when I breath fire.”

“Not as big as that though, I bet,” she cooed, swinging gently around with Spike.

“Well… maybe if we got a kiddy pool or a lake I could show you how it’s done,” he boasted, smugly grinning.

Jack shuffled onto the train’s platform, her arms overwhelmed with bags. “Am I near the door?” she asked, struggling to see around her burden.

“You’re thereabouts, darling!” Rarity chimed in from behind, a single purse in her arms. She looked at Jack, then glanced at her side. “Left.”

“Ya know, ya could be doin’ a lil' bit-a this,” the farmer remarked crossly, glancing behind her.

“I could,” Rarity agreed, reaching into her purse and casually applying lipstick, looking at her reflection in a compacted mirror.

Jack stared at her for a moment longer before returning to the task at hand, grumbling under her breath.

Rarity joined Spike and Pinkie on the platform and grinned as she watched Jack through the train’s windows. As the earth-folk picked up a bag, a small violet glow came to Rarity’s hand and Jack yelped, toppling over in surprise as an aura swallowed the bag, levitating It up and out of sight. Jack glared at Rarity and the soul-folk replied with an innocent of grin as she could muster and a dainty wave.

“Tormenting her does not get old,” the tailor chuckled in a deep-throated laugh, smiling fondly at Jack.

“You’re such a tease sometimes,” Pinkie remarked. “And she never really gets you back, does she?”

“Her retribution tends to happen far less often than my instigation. But I wouldn’t say she nevergets back at me.” Rarity shook her head. “She collected hair from a brush of mine once and put it on my pillow. When I woke up, she was there with a pair of scissors, and had all but convinced me she had cut it while I slept, rightbefore an important client meeting.”

“Ooooo, that’s good,” Pinkie replied, laughing to herself. “Tricky, but no real bad consequences either; a perfect prank.” Her eyes lingered down to Spike, a faint grin forming across her face.

“No copycats,” he instantly replied, not bothering to meet her gaze.

Jack peeked out of the train’s door. “Got yer bags, yer majesty.”

“Wonderful, dear!” Rarity replied in sing-song, stepping towards the farmer and standing on her toes, giving a small peck to Jack’s cheek. She turned toward Spike and Pinkie. “Are you both about ready too?”

“I’ve been ready since Jack booked the ticket,” Spike answered.

“Great minds think alike,” Jack drawled out.

“I’m sitting by the window!” Pinkie loudly announced, brushing past Jack and sitting herself in the booth nearest to them. She waved to Spike and Rarity through the glass.

Rarity shrugged at the two, before she stepped past Jack. “Well, I think I might take a window myself,”

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Jack answered with a wave of her hand. “Go an’ grab it, I jus’ gotta tell Spike somethin’.”

She watched Rarity go, then gave the boy a point to the window. “Watch this.”

Rarity paused as she went into the train and noted that Jack had forgot to put up one of her bags. Sighing, she gave it a hoist up over her shoulder only to have it unlatch, spilling dozens of pairs of panties, tops, and swimsuits onto the floor, to the bemusement of the few people riding.

The farmer strode in as Rarity stood in the center of the aisle, her jaw open and unbelieving. Grinning, she gave a small peck on the cheek to the stunned woman. “Well, didn’t know that was yer unmentionables. Sorry ‘bout that at least.”

Pinkie bent down, picking up one of the panties—one with expensive looking frills. She give it an experimental tug at the sides, noting curiously, “They’re bigger than I expected. Huh.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rarity asked, her face so red it might as well be burning. She crouched down, scrambling for the others and after a beat, Jack squatted down and helped her search for them.

“Dunno! Maybe you’ve been working out! Twila told me muscle weighs more than fat,” Pinkie told them, her tone almost sickeningly innocent. “Jack would know better than me.”

The farmer paused. “That’s, uh…”

Rarity looked up at Jack. “Why are you considering your words here, dear?”

“It’s jus’ a loaded question. Either way’s bad. ‘Sides,” she added sheepishly. “Ya know I don’t like talkin’ ‘bout yer… things an’ stuff.”

"You don't like talking about them, but seem enthralled on showing them," she snapped, taking the underwear from Pinkie and cramming it back into the suitcase.

"Like I said, thought it was yer dresses, cut me a break here."

“Besides, you look fine, Rarity,” Pinkie said, waving a hand down. “You’re the curviest and slimmest out of anyone on this train, I bet. We’re just poking a li’l fun.”

She still glanced at her, before scoffing. “I blame Apple family meals. Even though I work out far more—”

“Ya ain’t fat,” Jack spoke up seriously. “I’d never think yer fat.”

Rarity said nothing, the words doing at least a little in calming down her temper. Finally, she rose, stuffing the last of her unmentionables and snapping the case shut.

“You’re sweet, for it being all your fault.”

“If that ain’t the best of both worlds, I ain’t sure what is,” Jack drawled out.

The group came to St. Charles as dusk was falling. Pinkie almost popped out of the train before it had even came to a complete stop, held in check only by Spike’s frantic grabbing. When it came in the station proper, the group spilled out in pairs, Pinkie and Spike leading the way in a way only Pinkie could do, Jack and Rarity bring up the rear.

“So, how bad ya reckon the girls trashed the place?” Jack asked.

“Surely it won’t be that bad, Jack. They’ve been alone this long before with no issue.”

“Alright. Jus’ don’t freak out if there’s a bit of clutter or somethin’.”

Rarity chuckled. “Oh, Jack,” she said, giving a joking slap of the earth-folk’s arm. “After all this time with your family, how much worse can it get?”

“How did you get a cake stuck on the ceiling?!” Rarity wailed, putting her hands to her cheeks in shock. An adolescent girl with crimson hair kicked the ground in embarrassment.

“W-well, it kinda blew up when I took it out of the oven—but we cleaned up the floor!”

“An’ what about the walls?” Jack asked dryly, glaring over her shoulder at her younger sister as she attempted to scrub off burnt cake bits from the wall.

The crimson-haired pre-teen threw her hands out. “That was Scootaloo’s job!”

“Bloom—”

“But it was!”

Scootaloo, or, Louanne as her actual name went, brushed her short-cropped purple hair back and pointed at Bloom. “Nuh-uh! I said I’d clean the living room! You said you’d take care of the cake mess!”

They paused their argument, each looking over to the third girl of the group.

“I dunno. You just told me to throw away the magazines,” the third girl, Stephanie, squeaked out.

“Magazines?” Jack repeated. Bloom quickly waved her hands.

“N-nothin’!” Bloom quickly called out. She pointed back to the ceiling. “How we gonna get this stuff off?”

“Might need a damn knife ta scrape it,” Jack grumbled.

Rarity rubbed the bridge of her nose. “You girls work on it. Jack and myself need to get dressed for the party.”

“Are we comin’ too?” Bloom asked.

Jack looked towards Rarity, who nodded.

“Get the mess cleaned up an’ ya can,” Jack offered.

The trio’s eyes sparked to life and they quickly went to work scrubbing the walls and floors.

Hiding her smile, Jack left the kitchen and followed Rarity upstairs.

“I swear. It’s my own fault for giving them a chance,” Rarity exclaimed, throwing her arms out as she moved through the upstairs living room. Jack gave a small run of her finger over the piano there, briefly hit with nostalgia. She had spent quite some time here talking with Rarity, listening to blues, and, on long days, sleeping on the couch. Reaching over, she gave a small shove to the soul-folk’s shoulder.

“Ya know, this won’t be even half as bad as some of the stuff our kid will get inta,” Jack joked. Rarity smiled at Jack’s words only briefly, before returning to her dignified act, tilting her nose up at the very notion.

“I would raise him or her into a gentleman or a proper lady. None of this tomfoolery.”

Jack’s grin turned devious. “In that case I’d work twice as hard ta make him a lil’ hellion.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Laughing, Jack moved to Rarity’s bedroom. Or, rather, Rarity’s former bedroom. The room was a storage room now, filled to the brim with dresses, suits and cloth of all shapes and sizes; meanwhile, her former workroom became a bedroom for Spike when he minded the shop.

Sauntering over to a suit, Rarity picked it up, rubbing her fingers against the material.

“Hmm… yes. This should do nicely tonight.”

Jack moved towards it and nodded. “Gray ain’t my color usually, but I reckon it’ll work right with a bit of yer magic.” She paused. “Ya know, metaphorical talkin’, not…”

“I actually thought I’d wear a suit tonight, dear,” Rarity replied.

“Can’t blame ya. I wouldn’t be caught dead in a dress if…” She noticed Rarity’s expression and froze.

“Nope. Nope. Ain’t doin’ it,” Jack dismissed, shaking her head quickly in disagreement.

“Are you sure about that?” Rarity questioned.

“Absolutely.”

“Even after you exposed my clothes to everyone on the train?”

“Ya ain’t gonna hold that one against me, are ya?”

She stared, crossing her arms and saying nothing.

Jack shook her head. “It was an accident. I didn’t know that was yer… ya know.”

Rarity was the embodiment of stone, not moving from her position, her expression remaining much the same.

“Are ya honestly gona keep lookin’ at me like that until I give in?”

Her response was a brick wall. Finally, Jack raised her hands up and let them fall.

“Fine, alright. I give up, ya win.”

Rarity’s expression did an instant turnabout. Her smile was warm and she winked at the farmer.

“Still have it in spades,” the tailor said to herself.

“Shoulda jus’ walked away. Let ya stay like that fer a few hours,” Jack mumbled.

“Hindsight, darling,” Rarity said, reaching to her collection of clothes on hangers and instantly grabbing an emerald green dress, as if she had planned for all of this.

“An’ the kids are wearin’ what?”

“I’ll lay out a few things.” she said, already gesturing across the room like a maestro conducting an opera. Magic pulled at Jack’s hair, twirling and wrapping it into a loose braid while makeup was applied lightly across the scar on her face.

Without preamble, Rarity shut the door and stripped down, throwing her things into a neat pile on the counter as Jack did much the same, tossing her underwear and shirt to the ground.

“Yer birthday suit may be my favorite ensemble of yers,” Jack said with a grin, looking over at her wife’s pure skin. Seeing she had Jack’s attention, Rarity gave a small sashay of her bare hips towards the farmer, the action making Jack swallow.

“See? You’re learning regarding flirting. I’m proud of you.”

“That a sarcastic proud?” Jack asked, unsure.

“I’m sure a less experienced woman would be swooning.” She donned her suit, adjusting the cufflinks as she did so, then took to changing her hair in a vanity mirror.

Jack blinked. “That, uh, still didn’t answer my question.” Looking to the dress she shimmied it on and paused. “Dang it, Rare.”

“Hmm?” Rarity asked, not looking away from the mirror as she donned her earrings.

“It’s got one hell of a neckline ta it,” Jack said, gesturing to the deep cleavage of breasts.

“It’s a feature I like flaunting on you,” she answered. “They make your body seem softer when exposed and draw attention from your lack of hips—no offense intended.”

“Hell, it’s the truth, I guess. Won’t take that one personally.”

“Good. I did not mean it personally. We all have different shapes and sizes, after all. Why, imagine if Spike didn’t wear clothing that lengthened him? Or I wore something that did not shrink my own hips.”

“You’d look fine,” Jack defended. She walked towards the woman and put her hands around Rarity’s waist. “Like I said; I like yer birthday suit.”

The soul-folk paused from her attempts at cleaning up and rested a palm on top of her wife’s, taking to rubbing it with her palm.

“You’re sweet. That’s much better than simply being a good flirt.”

Jack held her position as Rarity gave another adjustment to her hair. Finally, Jack let go and took a few steps around the room.

“Miss it?” she asked, giving a small gesture around her.

“At times. But I believe I bet on the winning horse.”

“So I’m a horse now?” Jack smirked.

“Well, to be frank, the times I’ve rode you like a pony sa—”

“Oh hush,” Jack interrupted, pointing a palm towards Rarity’s mouth.

They finished dressing and Jack reluctantly slipped into a set of shoes that complimented the dress more than her boots. After giving the ok to the girls design and Rarity doing her best to hold her tongue regarding Pinkie’s borderline garish ensemble, they were off, walking down the lazy town’s main road.

“Can’t believe there ain’t a carriage in sight,” Jack said, giving a look down the rows of stores to confirm her complaint.

“Not surprising. I have the feeling they’ve been shuttling people all throughout the day. We’re simply running a hair late,” Rarity remarked. With a wave of a magic-coated hand, she made a compact mirror appear in her palm and gave one more meticulous tug at her hair, nodding in approval at the sweeping side brush she had done on it.

Jack looked behind her to Pinkie. “Yer lookin’...” She paused, noting the dresses cut-off shoulders, knee-high socks and, lastly, a pair of pink dance shoes. “Interesting. That’s the word I’ll go with here.”

“You like it, huh?” Pinkie asked, doing a little twirl. “I think it makes me stand out more. Makes me unique!” She looked over her shoulder at her smaller date. “Right, Spike?”

“It’s you,” he agreed with a nod, shuffling forward in a well-pressed suit and a cane. He gave a tip of his fedora towards Jack. “Classy but sassy.”

“Lucky. I’m dressed up like some doll…” Stephanie mumbled, walking behind Spike and Pinkie with her two friends. Stephanie herself was dressed in a flowing white and lilac dress, sparkles nearly everywhere on it. A violet bowtie was also in her hair, which was flowing and looked remarkably well kept.

Bloom put a considering hand to her chin, taking in the girl and humming. “Ya know, ya do look a lot like one I used ta own. Sally-Sue.” She gave a gentle pull to the girl’s light-pink and lavender hair. “Tho’ her hair was more like Louanne’s.” Tilting her head, her own bow slid in her sea of red. “Good thing I jus’ happened ta have a spare pair of overalls Jack gave the ok on! Dresses ain’t exactly my, uh...” She gave a hum of thought, trying to think of a good word to use.

“It’s okay to say dresses are kinda lame, y’know,” Louanne said, adjusting the aviator goggles on her head. The most casual of the group, she wore an orange shirt, a brown leather jacket, jeans and white trainers.

“They ain’t lame. Jus’ people can’t wear ‘em sometimes,” Bloom countered. “Rarity wears ‘em good. Granny looked kinda odd without ‘em. But ya put Jack in a dress an’ it looks weird.”

Pausing, she glanced over to Jack and Rarity. On seeing neither of them react, she let out a breath of relief. “If it helps ya any, Steph, Sally-Sue was my favorite doll when I was a kid.”

“But I’m not a doll…” Stephanie protested. “And this thing isn’t enough to keep the cold away.” She eyed Louanne’s jacket with envy.

“It ain’t even cold out here!” Bloom exclaimed, lifting her arms up and turning towards the two, walking backwards. “Downright nice.”

“I think it feels cold at least,” Stephanie argued, rubbing her bare arms.

“Heck, jus’ use yer magic ta get warmer then,” she countered. “‘Cause I ain’t lettin’ ya have my shirt or nothin’.”

“I’m not that good at my magic yet,” Stephanie said, pointing at the off-color patch of skin on her cheek. Some day she’d have a mark just as vivid as Rarity’s and she’d learn proper control of her magic. But until then... “Scoots, can I borrow your jacket?”

“Nah nah,” Louanne said off-handedly. “How am I supposed to look cool without it?”

Spike smiled, staring ahead.

“Someone seems super-duper happy tonight!” Pinkie chimed in. He looked to her, nodding.

“It’ll be nice seeing Twila again,” he admitted. “I like spending time with you guys, but…”

“Sometimes family’s great too! Gotta enjoy all the company you can get.”

A loud rush of air blew past them; Jack snapped her head up, seeing a pair of massive feathered wings blow past them and skim over the top of the town’s bakery.

“It’s alright,” Rarity said quietly. Jack didn’t even know she had tensed up her muscles, gone into an automatic flight-or-fight mode from the startle. She sighed, letting her fists unclench, letting the instincts that drove her around when she was off the farm die down and retreat to the back of her mind. Rarity looped her arm around Jack’s as they continued their walk.

They came to the school, late, but not enough to worry about it. ‘Fashionably late,’ as Rarity might say. As they entered the courtyard the three youngest out of them shot forward past Jack and Rarity, rushing towards a collection of women standing around the steps leading into the academy proper. Giggling, Pinkie grabbed Spike by the wrist and did much the same to Spike’s complaint; he held onto his hat for all it was worth as she dragged the dragon-blood behind her.

“Reminds me a bit of a child and a doll,” Rarity quietly joked to her partner. Jack let out a chuckle at this, wiping a thumb across her nose.

They approached the group of women and Jack did a quick glance over them, doing a headcount in a way, making sure none of her friends were absent and unaccounted for. She spotted Twila, a soul-folk standing towards the back, Chylene, a timid sky-folk that seemed content talking with Gilda, a griffon-folk that could give Dash's mouth a run for its money, and, closest to them Dash, the short woman like usual holding a confident stance as she spoke to the others; Rarity, meanwhile, did a count of her own, pleased to see the dresses the women wore were mostly from her own hands, one fitting Chylene’s conservative personality, one on Twila, shimmering and sleek enough to outdo a royal tailor, Dash in a dress to suggest more at the chest than she really had and Gilda wearing one Rarity knew she had designed for Chylene. It was probably an innocent enough explanation, but Rarity narrowed her brow when she looked at the griffon-folk all the same, though chose not to vocalize her displeasure this time.

“Howdy, y'all,” Jack drawled out, putting a hand to her hip and sauntering over.

“About damn time,” Dash called out once they had covered some distance and came towards the stairs leading to the school doors. “Thought you guys might of backed out or something.”

“I was tempted when I heard yer ass was gonna be ‘round,” Jack answered. After a beat, she held her fist out, smacking it against Dash’s. “Good seein’ ya outside-a work.”

“You’re telling me,” she agreed. Dash gave a quick rise of her chin towards Rarity. “Sup?”

“Oh, nothing, dear. Work, be it tailoring or schmoozing clientele, and a home-life take up most of my time,” Rarity answered, giving a small bow and adjusting one of the buttons on her suit.

“I know work,” Dash agreed. “Sorry I haven’t made it to your guys’s house yet, been doing everything in my totally awesome power to get some time, but…”

“Maybe if ya take away some of yer naps, an’ stop goin’ on lil’ vacations, ya might have time. Jus’ throwin’ that out there,” Jack said, putting a hand on her hip and turning to Rarity. “I tell ya what she did when I went ta the coast with Will? After we took care-a some gnolls, she takes a four-day vacation ta soak up the sun on the beach!”

Rarity turned her attention away from Jack’s socializing and approached Twila. “Good evening, darling!” she chimed out. A loud cry of “Dashiiie!’ from Pinkie rang out behind her but she chose to ignore it, and also chose to ignore the sound of something—Pinkie, Dash or both—hitting the ground.

“Evening, Rarity,” Twila addressed with a curtsey. Rarity replied with a bow. Twila looked to the soul-folk. “A suit?”

“Yes. I felt it would be a nice change of pace. Normally during these events I instantly plunge into a dress—meaning wearing a suit to counter my normal routine shakes up my design and will cause even more heads to turn when I walk into the ballroom!”

“Same reason Jack’s wearing a dress?” Twila asked.

“That’s… more in line with vengeance, really,” Rarity said, giving a small glance away and shuffling on her feet.

Spike inadvertently saved her from further questioning when he began approaching the two.

“Spike!” Twila cried as she finally noticed him. She gave a few quick steps towards him then paused, noticing his attire.

“What are you wearing?” she asked, raising a brow.

“It’s a dance, isn’t it?” After a beat, he looked at everyone else’s more casual dress and sighed. “Rarity said it made me look stylish, at least...”

“Of course it was Rarity.” Twila smirked, stepping forward to hug the young man. “Not even you are so…” She whispered the next word into his ear, “Tacky.”

“It is not!” he replied with a gasp, his hat nearly popping off his head. “Rarity wouldn’t put me in something for a joke!”

“She might of if I mentioned it on the train while you were sleeping!” Pinkie chimed in. “But it’s fine. I think he looks handsome andcute,” the earth-folk said, taking Spike’s hat from him and placing it on her own head.

“I was hoping for ‘stylish,’ but I’ll take cute at this point,” the boy grumbled.

Louanne pointed at one of the party-goers. “I wanna know who the Rainbow-haired girl is,” she said, all her attention on Dash.

“Ya heard ‘bout her all the time from Jack. She’s that buddy she goes on adventures with!” Bloom exclaimed. “The sky-folk girl.”

“That’s her?” Louanne took in a deep breath and slicked back her hair. “Okay, time to play it cool…” She took slow precise and careful steps towards Dash, then paused. Swallowing nervously, she turned, moving back towards her friends. “On second thought, it can wait.”

Twila spoke over the noise of the girls mingling. “Well then,” Twila announced, looking around to everyone. “Now that we're all here, how about we get inside?”

“Ya always were the smart one outta the group. Lead the way,” Jack agreed. The farmer paused, spotting Gilda. The griffon-folk was still looking towards the sky and Jack approached, stopping to talk to her as the others trickled inside.

Twila walked through the main entryway with the others right behind her, brushing past dozens of other attendees. She looked over at the boy alongside her.

“So, you did miss me, right?” Twila asked with a small smile.

“Of course,” Spike agreed, reaching over to give a squeeze of her arm. “How’s work been going?”

Twila let out a little resigned groan. “It goes. And that’s it. Despite my new position, I never actually feel valued. Maybe I’m being selfish, but when you compare me to Celestia or Luna… I’m not much.”

“They’ve had years and years of practice at this. It’ll come with time, don’t think too hard about it, just do the best you can.” He turned to face her fully, moving around a man walking past them. “Besides, I’m sure Celestia’s been impressed with you.”

“I don’t doubt that. Yet it feels like it’s all too early for this. I’m still studying, for one,” she said. “And you might assume that would be why I haven’t been tasked to do as much but if that were the case, why give me the position now?” She frowned, a familiar expression to Spike. “I don’t understand. Then again, does Celestia ever expect me to until the very end?”

“Maybe that’s part of being a good teacher?” Spike replied with an unsure shrug. “If Celestia explained everything right off the bat, how would that teach you to think for yourself?” He glanced at her again. “She trusts you completely. That’s something very few people can say about others, I’m pretty sure.”

“I know I’m meant to learn things, Spike. That’s just the natural progression of any student. But I didn’t think it’d make me feel so inept…” She gently held Spike’s hand, looking at him with a sisterly warmness.

Spike gave his hand a small clench, smiling reassuringly at her. “You’re not inept. I’ve never seen a more competent person in my life. I’m not brown-nosing here. If anyone were to replace the sisters as the leader of Cabello, I’d want you to.”

Twila brushed aside her hair. “This is why I missed you; Chylene, Jack, Gilda… they’re great friends, but none of them could ever get me on the right level, like you can.”

“Well, they can only do so much compared to a perfect specimen like myself,” he boasted, smugly grinning up at her. After a beat, Spike gave her a small run of his finger over her dress. “You look good, by the way.”

“Thanks.” She grinned, flicking the tip of the cane Spike held. “You look classy.”

He raised a brow. “Classy enough to have a dance with the prettiest girl I know lined up. What about you?”

Twila blinked a few times, looking down at him. “What? Dating?”

“Maybe dating, eventually. But I’m sure there’s someone here tonight that will want to at least dance with you.”

“Because they want to dance with me or just a Princess?” Twila said, a somewhat bitter tone in her words.

“I don’t think she’d care about the title,” Spike said flatly. After a beat, he smiled slightly. “You still haven’t figured it out?”

“What? I haven’t received any mysterious love letters, or anything that usually happens before any sort of courting…” Twila murmured.

“Well, she might not approach you about it. You’ll need to approach her. Pretending you have no idea what I’m talking about isn’t gonna make me drop it.”

Twila looked behind her, taking stocks of all her friends. After a few moments of looking away, trying not to act suspicious, she glanced back to Spike. “Gilda…?”

“Twila…”

“Dash. Has to be. But she’s embarrassed about it so she plays the tough girl act,” she hypothesized.

“It’s about who you like, Twila. That’s what we’re talking about here. Come on. Drop the act already,” Spike said, a hint of irritation at his voice.

Twila sighed, slumping her shoulders in defeat. “Truth be told, Spike, I haven’t thought about anybody like that. Ever.”

“Don’t lie to me. That’s bullshit,” he said, finally letting a spark of anger get out. “Did I lie to you when I said Pinkie was interesting? Who gave me a shove and an introduction line—which completely flopped, by the way?”

“I did. But that’s—” She stopped herself. “No, it’s not too different. I am, though. I’ve just never worked up the courage to take the next step.” As they headed to the school’s doors, she shot Spike an annoyed glance. “And no, it won’t be happening tonight. Also,” she smacked him lightly upside the head, “don’t swear.”

“Don’t lie to me, then. You know that makes me mad,” he answered, rubbing where she slapped him. “And why not tonight?”

“Because, you see…” She sighed again, pushing through the doors. “I don’t have a reason, okay? I only need some time to collect myself better. Plus I’d rather enjoy time with my friends, as opposed to worrying about things like that.”

“What’s to worry about? It’s just a dance. It’s a way to test the water without getting soaked—Pinkie said something like that when we first started being a couple. And it makes sense, doesn’t it?” He glanced towards the woman in question, then back to Twila. “Advice from Pinkie making sense. It doesn’t happen often, that means it must be gold.”

“She’s a lot smarter than she lets on; she just goes along a different thought process than me or you. You should know that better than I do,” Twila retorted.

“That doesn’t change what I said. When we’re on the same wave-length, the advice is gold.” He gave a tug at her dress as they approached the doors leading to the auditorium. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course I do!” she quickly exclaimed. “Why wouldn’t I? I've known you for most of my life.”

“Then trust me when I say if you don’t do it tonight, you’ll regret it. It’s an opportunity that doesn’t happen often. Not like you can dance with her at those Camelot balls, with all those nobles around, can you?” He grabbed the door’s handle, clutching it. “Just… for me? Give it a try. You know I want to see you, uh, you know…”

“I know, Spike.” She went down and quickly hugged the young man, before he could open the door. “Thank you. I mean it.”

“Thank me on the dance floor once things die down a bit,” he replied with a grin, pushing the door open.