Pinkie Pie put her hands with fingers interlocked behind her head and leaned back in the pink plush chair in the corner of her bedroom. She let out a sigh of contentment, and why not? She’d earned it, after all; the vacuum stood tall beside the chair as a testament to her work of the past few hours, cleaning the Pie family home from roof to basement. Her jeans felt stiff and dirty, and beads of sweat lingered on her forehead—she’d need to take a shower soon—but for now, for a few moments, she was happy to have a moment’s respite. Her eyes briefly danced around the room, from the pink-carpeted floor which was fully visible for the first time in weeks to her neatly-made bedspread; then, her eyelids closed, and her breathing started to slow.

But of course then there was a knock on the door, and she was pulled from her reverie. “Yeeees?” Pinkie called out, though she didn’t move. “Maud, are you home already? I thought you had a date with that boy!”

“That’s not until tomorrow,” came her sister’s voice flatly through the door. “There’s someone here to see you, though.”

Pinkie gasped. “Whoooo is it? No, wait—don’t tell me, I love surprises! Whoever you are, come iiiiin!”

There were footsteps, and the door creaked as it opened slowly. Pinkie tilted her head over, peeking around; when she caught sight of ochre skin and deep blue shoulder-length hair, her eyes and grin widened.

“OMG, Flashie!” she cried out, leaping up and dashing forward. The door swung open just enough at the perfect moment for her arms to wrap around the torso of the teenager standing in the doorway, and Pinkie pulled herself close. She felt Flash Sentry’s arms wrap around her in turn—holding on tighter than she expected—and a head nestle down into her shoulder. A “what’s uppppp?” lingered at the tip of Pinkie’s tongue, but before she could get it out, she was met with a choked whisper.

“Hey, Pinkie.”

The gears in Pinkie’s head turned, and she dialed back her emotions a bit before she pulled her head back to look up.

“How’re you doing?” she asked, though a second later she wondered whether she really should have done that either.

Flash raised her head to look down at her, and Pinkie could see she was clearly trying to hold herself together. Her expression was neutral, but there was a strange, familiar softness to those deep blue eyes and, even more revealing, the mostly-but-not-perfectly wiped away smears of mascara below them.

“Um... let’s just say... not great.” She paused, and then reached a hand up to run her fingers through one of Pinkie’s voluminous locks. “Do you have time to talk? I’m sorry I didn’t give you a head’s up before coming by, but...”

“Of course I have time to talk to my Flashie, ya silly!” Pinkie beamed before leaning up to give Flash a peck on the cheek. “Especially if something’s getting her down...” She stepped back, stretching her arms out. “You wanna sit down? I can grab a pop or something if you’re thirsty, we’ve got cans downstairs.”

Flash gulped. “I’m, uh... I’m fine.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “Actually, could I maybe have a glass of water?”

“Sure thing, sweetie!”

Pinkie stepped around Flash and out her bedroom door, zipping over to the bathroom across the hall. She and her bouncing floofy hair popped back into the room a moment later and in some mystifying balancing act she closed the door behind her at the same moment she was across the room, dropping off the glass delicately in outstretched hands and receiving murmured thanks. Then, Pinkie glided across her carpet and slid onto her bed so that her back was propped up by the wall.

For a minute, Flash didn’t speak; Pinkie merely watched as the girl sitting in that pink chair across the room sipped at the glass of water, her gaze trained on photos of the girls pinned to the wall that she’d seen a hundred times before. It was Pinkie’s first chance to see Flash’s outfit fully, and she couldn’t help but grin; those white tights had been hers, and that skirt was one they’d chosen together on a trip to the mall. It complemented her black jacket nicely.

When the glass hit half empty, Flash reached over and found a spot for it on Pinkie’s cluttered desk in the corner. She looked back towards the bed, and her blue eyes locked with Pinkie’s. For her part, Pinkie flashed her an inviting smile, and patted a spot on the bedspread next to her; Flash visibly hesitated, a flicker of worry across her face, but she mouthed an okay as she stood up and walked over. As Flash slid beside her and got settled, the smaller girl leaned her head over to rest on her shoulder.

“Thanks,” Flash finally said, once another minute had passed.

“No problemo,” Pinkie replied, in a tone something like her typical sing-song but more muted. She said nothing more, though, just leaning comfortably against Flash until she was ready to speak.

“So... um... I...” Flash sighed that heavy sigh of hers. “Ugh, sorry. This is really dumb, and I’m overreacting. I just never thought this would happen, ever, and it really caught me off guard that it did. I dunno, I should have expected it.”

“Flashie,” Pinkie said, reaching over to take hold of Flash’s hand. “It’s okay—I’m not going to make fun of you, or tell you you shouldn’t be feeling what you’re feeling. If something’s bothering you, there’s no way you don’t have a good reason to be bothered.”

“I got catcalled.”

Pinkie’s stomach turned. She squeezed Flash’s hand, and the other girl squeezed hers in turn. “Did... did you see who it was?”

“I didn’t know them.” Flash’s tone was cool, matter of fact—removed. “College students, I think. Drunken idiots. I don’t know. I only saw them for a few seconds. I didn’t even realise what was happening until they were already speeding away.”

“I’m... I’m really sorry.” Pinkie turned to look at Flash, even if the other girl kept just staring forward into the distance. “Nobody should have to deal with that kinda crap, especially not you.”

Flash sighed. “I... feel gross.”

“I know how you feel,” Pinkie offered, her voice quiet. “When it first happened to me, I wasn’t even fourteen. I wasn’t expecting it at all either, but... it happened, just like that. Limestone was the one who talked me down afterwards—I didn’t want to go to school, I didn’t even want to leave the house.”

Flash didn’t respond at first, but she did look back over to Pinkie. “I’m really sorry that happened to you,” she finally said. “But I guess that kinda just... I don’t know. Makes me feel stranger.”

“What’s on your mind?” Pinkie asked, hesitantly. She stared into those deep blue eyes—but they just looked away.

“I, well... as I said, I didn’t think it would even happen,” Flash started. “And it’s making me think about a lot of things. One is yeah, what you’re saying, it’s gross and people are awful and sexist and it really sucks to feel that sting for the first time, it’s not anything anyone should ever have to go through. And going through it, I feel... really bad. It’s humiliating.”

Pinkie nodded, squeezing Flash’s hand again. “It really is, and it isn’t fair at all.”

“But on the other hand...” Flash paused, and Pinkie could feel her muscles tense beside her. “I’m like... shouldn’t this be kind of validating? There’s something dark and ugly in the back of my head, telling me... shouldn’t I feel kind of good about this because I’m... starting to pass?” She lingered on the last word, and Pinkie could see her biting her lip, still staring out across the room towards the chair. “They’re just seeing me how I wanted, and they’re treating me how they would any other girl. This is what I signed up for, even if it’s... just... the fucking worst.”

With those last few words, Flash’s voice cracked; she let go of Pinkie’s hand and pulled her knees up to her chest. Pinkie’s heart sank, and for a second internally she panicked, not knowing what to do. So she did all she could think of and wrapped her arms around the delicate frame of the girl beside her, holding on tight as Flash trembled with muffled sobs.

“Hey, hey... it’s okay,” Pinkie murmured reassuringly. “They’re new and super complicated feelings, I totally get that, and you... you haven’t said anything bad or wrong. You’re not wrong for feeling your feelings.”

“Feels like it’d almost be better if I were,” Flash mumbled. “At least if they were wrong, then I’d just try to stop feeling what I’m feeling.”

Pinkie reached a hand under Flash’s jacket, rubbing her hand along the back of her shirt. “Oh, Flashie, you know that’s not how it works... they’re bad feelings, yeah, and they feel awful, but... sometimes we need to feel those things to get them out of the way. To deal with what’s getting us down. And I get why you feel conflicted, why you’d even have that thought, even if you know it’s... not something you want.”

“Yeah... I know.” Flash sniffled, looking up. “I just feel so screwed up for feeling like that, you know? Like, of course it doesn’t feel good, it’s dumb jerks dehumanising me! They don’t even know me, they’re just... ugh.” She wiped at her cheek. “...But the sickening sliver of validation still stands, I guess. I dunno. It’s weird.”

“Kinda like... a shitty welcome party to being a girl?” Pinkie offered.

Flash hesitated, and then nodded. “Yeah, I... that’s a good way of putting it. It’s like, ‘oh shit, this is real, this is really happening’. All the good parts... and all of the awful ones.”

“Mhm,” Pinkie affirmed with a nod. “It’s one thing to know about all that in theory, another thing to get called ‘sweet tits’ by some dipwad when you’re working the diner.”

“You... really got called that?” Flash turned to look at her with eyes wide in horror.

Pinkie grimaced. “Yeeeah, there’s some real shady characters that swing by. I can’t really do anything about it either, the manager doesn’t really give a crap about stuff like that and I need that job.” Flash offered her arms for a hug, but Pinkie shook her head, instead going in to give her another peck on the cheek. “It’s okay, sweetie. I mean, it’s super duper not okay, but it’s something I just gotta deal with, at least for now.”

“Okay, if you’re sure you’re able to handle it.” Flash gave Pinkie a little peck on the cheek before pulling back with a deep breath.. “Ugh, I still feel crappy about this.”

“You probably will for a while,” Pinkie replied, “and all we really can do is ride it out. Heck, it might come back even after you do feel better. But you’re so strong, and you’ve made it this far, and every little thing you get past just makes you stronger!” She leaned in to rub her cheek against Flash’s, and the other girl visibly blushed. “Remember when you swore you weren’t ever gonna come out in high school, how you were so afraid of what all our friends would think? And your parents?”

Flash sighed. “Heh... you don’t need to remind me.”

“And yeah, a few people at school were meanies, and your parents were confused at first,” Pinkie went on, “but things are all pretty peachy right now, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Flash ran a hand through her hair. “I guess I have come a long way, huh?”

“You have! And no matter what, you know you’re gonna be okay. Especially ’cause your Pinkie Pie is right here to protect you, okay? Pinkie Promise.” She offered a smile—not her typical goofy grin, but something softer and maybe even sweeter.

Flash smiled in turn, and reached up her pinkie finger to meet Pinkie’s in the gesture. “And I’m here for you, you know.”

“Heehee, yeah I know it!” Pinkie broke contact, pulling back and shimmying herself off the bed. “Say, do you wanna stay and help me make dinner? My parents should be home in like an hour, and you could meet them!”

Flash laughed, brushing one of her bangs from her face. “I’ve met your parents, Pinkie.”

Pinkie tilted her head, looking skeptical. “Sure you did, but that was before we... well, yanno! Before we got in girlfriends!”

A look of worry flashed across the other girl’s face, but she quickly recovered. “Uh, yeah! Okay! I can stay for dinner, just lemme text Mom and let her know.”

“Perfect,” Pinkie said with a smile. “You know, you’re looking super duper pretty today, Flashie.”

Flash blinked, but returned the smile. “Thanks, Pinkie. You too.”

Pinkie’s smile widened, and she reached her arm out across the bed. Flash took hold of her girlfriend’s hand, and within a moment she’d been lifted from the bed and the pair were standing there in the centre of the bedroom, together.

Flash looked down at Pinkie—she had four or five inches on the girl if you didn’t count her floofy pink hair—and beamed. Pinkie grinned—this time her big goofy grin, the one Flash loved so much—and leaned in. Pinkie’s lips met Flash’s, and in that moment between them their worries were gone.