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More Than Buddies

by Crowley

Chapter 1: Part 1

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Ponyville. Canterlot. Fillydelphia. Ponyville. Cloudsdale. Crystal Empire.

Your job’s easy enough, once you get used to the unreasonable hours you have to get up in the morning. Just wake up at “stupid o’clock” - you know, that time when it’s technically morning, but it’s so stupidly early the sun hasn’t even been raised yet - and drag yourself downstairs to cook a warm breakfast and something to drink that’s usually just caffeine in a mug. Luckily your roommate sleeps like a log, so you can clatter all you want when you cook.

Canterlot. Appleloosa. Manehattan. Ponyville. Hoofington. Canterlot.

Once perked from the living dead, you trot off across town towards your workplace - Ponyville Post Office. You then sit down at your grubby little desk, then go through the pile of unsorted mail that was picked up from yesterday. A clear-cut, yet tedious task that was easy enough to learn.

Trottingham. Cloudsdale. Cloudsdale. Appleloosa. Canterlot. Fillydelphia.

Reading the town and cities that they were addressed to, you’d then sort each letter into various pigeonholes for the corresponding town. You’re especially useful due to how well you can sort letters; with a quick levitation spell cast at a bunch of letters at a time, you would then sort them into groups mid-float, then drift them all up to their respective shelves. Rinse and repeat. Magic; it’s a handy thing to have. It’s why they hired you.

Fillydelphia. Manehattan. Fillydelphia. Ponyville. Ponyville. Appleloosa.

You had a choice in your shifts when you first started. You remember the choice quite well. You could either come in early in the morning, a few hours before the Pegasus Delivery teams clock-in, and sort them right before they pick said sorted letters up. Or you could come in late at night, just after the last of the letters had been dropped off, and sort them the night before. You chose the early morning shift, working from six ‘til twelve.

Canterlot. Canterlot. Ponyville. Cloudsdale. Ponyville. Manehattan.

You tell them the reason for choosing the early shift was because you could spend the rest of the day snoozing in the afternoon sun. Not strictly true. The real reason was so you could have lunch with the Ponyville Pegasus Delivery team at the end of your shift each day, something that wouldn’t be possible had you chosen the later one.

And by team, you meant just one particular pony.

She was certainly… a unique pegasus, in appearance and behavior. If you could sum her up in just one word, it would be ‘cute’. Or perhaps ‘quirky’.

Crash! Shatter!

“Sorry! I didn’t see that desk there!”

Or maybe just ‘Ditzy’. Yes, that sums her up perfectly. And since she’s back, you take a glance at the time - the time that flies by faster and faster these days - and confirm that is nearly lunch, or as you call it, ‘grub then home time’. Good thing you’re almost done with those letters.

*******

“Take a seat, buddy!” She chimes as you meet her in the kitchen area. You pull up a chair next to her and produce your lunch; some fresh egg and cress sandwiches with salad. She always seemed to have her lunch at a different table than the rest of the Ponyville team. For the first week or so you were working there, you assumed it was because the other tables were full. Nowadays, you know you’re one of the few she isn‘t nervous around.

“So, Ditzy,” you smile, chewing on your sandwich, “How were today’s deliveries?”

“Great!” She grins, “It’s getting easier all the time, if you don‘t count a hiccup or two! Ooh, ooh! And I’ve got something for you! Here!”

With that, she reaches into her saddlebag and produces a small, brown paper bag, which she then plonks on the table in front of you.

“They’re all yours! Go right ahead!”

The surprise renders you speechless for a moment, “R-really? For me?” She nods her head widely back and forth. “Aw, Ditzy, you didn’t have to.”

“Oh, it‘s nothing major; it‘s just that I wanna say thanks! That‘s all.”

Pulling the brown paper bag towards you, you fix her an odd look when you think about what she said. “Say thanks? For what?”

Her cheery disposition fades by the slightest amount. Her eyes lower, one of them idly looking at her rear hooves under the table, the other at the table itself. You could even make out the faintest blush (is she embarrassed or something?) under the fine, gray furs on her face.

“Weeell… it’s just that you’ve been real nice to me since you got here. At least I think you’re nice. And I mean really super nice! So…” she perks up a little, gesturing toward the bag, “They’re my way of saying thanks!”

What she said was true; you remember the first lunch break you had since you started working at the post office, and you remember, with it being your first day, not knowing anypony there. You remember noticing the lonely, wall-eyed pegasus eating at a separate table all by herself. But what you remember the most is her child-like, bright-eyed smile when you sat down next to her and introduced yourself. From that day onwards, she would always call you her buddy.

There’s something about her you would never dare say out loud through. You couldn’t quite put your hoof on it; whenever she smiled at you like that, your insides would either flutter gently or skip completely. But deep down, the sobering thought of being ‘her buddy’ stopped you from going any further with her in terms of affection. What if she didn’t like you that way? If she refused, would she still hang out with you? Personally, your friendship with her is too important to risk asking her.

Pushing your train of thought aside, you currently give her a smile as you open the no-doubt thoughtful gift, and peek into the paper bag. You see… some sandwiches, a blueberry muffin and a juice box? You already brought your own lunch, sure, but you guess it’s the thought that counts. You also notice a small folded-up note next to the food. You levitate it out of the bag via your horn‘s magic, unfold it, and read aloud;

“To my little muffin; have a great day at school, good luck in your maths test! Lots of love, hugs and kisses, Mom.” After reading, you look back at her, not sure of what to say, “It’s uh… very motherly of you, Ditzy.”

Ditzy, on the other hoof, is not happy, “Can I see that for a second?” she snatches the bag out of your hooves, and peers into it herself. “Oh, nooo!”

You could hazard a guess at what just happened.

“This isn’t your present, this is Dinky’s lunch!” she wails at her own tragic incompetence, “But if Dinky’s lunch is right here, then Dinky must’ve gotten-”

*******

“-a bag full of chocolate muffins?!” Dinky asks herself as she opens the brown, paper bag that was supposed to contain her lunch. A small trio of ponies sitting across the school cafeteria table from her overhear the word ‘muffins’ and promptly turn their heads to listen in.

“But Mom knows I can’t have too many chocolate ones, or else I’ll get a tummy ache! Aw, what am I gonna have for lunch now..?”

“Cutie Mark Crusaders Independent Traders! Hooray!”

“What the-?” Before Dinky knows what’s happening, two odd fillies sit themselves at either side of her, the third filly - a yellowish one with a large cute bow in her mane - sits opposite the table to her.

“Are ya overstocked on baked goods, Miss? Then how would ya like me to take one of those pesky muffins off o’ yer hooves? In return, you’ll get this here juicy, freshly grown apple straight from Sweet Apple Acres!”

“I’ll give you my fruitcake bar for a muffin!”

“And I’ll trade you a sandwich and my milk carton for two of them!”

“Scootaloo, why would ya want two muffins?”

“Well, one for me, one for Rainbow Dash later!”

As they continue to haggle, Dinky smiles to herself. Looks like she’s going to have an ache-free lunch after all…

Next Chapter: Part 2 Estimated time remaining: 25 Minutes
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