Coco Bean (Short Collection)

>Friday in Manehatten.
>You breathe a sigh of relief as you climb the stairs of your apartment.
>The long week had certainly taken it out of you.
>It was time for a nice, relaxing night in.
>In one hand, you carry some nice takeout food.
>In the other, you hold a rented movie tape.
>Equestrian technology was somewhat behind your own.
>You reach your door and begin to fiddle with the lock before pushing it open gently.
>As you enter the apartment, however, what you see surprises you.
>The bag of takeout you were carrying slips from your hand and lands with a soft thud on the floor.
>Coco, your marefriend, is sitting at the table, head in her hooves.
>The fact she's in your apartment isn't unexpected, you recently moved in with her.
>But the fact she looks like a flat tire, is.
>Her face is red and puffy, tears staining her cream-colored fur.
>Every few seconds she gives off a muffled, defeated sob.
>As she hears the door swing open, she looks up to see you.
>You stand there, leaning up against the kitchen door of your apartment, stunned.
>The smile that normally greets you when you get home from work is gone.
>She doesn't try to hide her tears or wipe them from her face.
>Instead, she just hangs her head in shame.
>"Oh. Hi, Anon."
"Coco? Are you all right?"
>She shakes her head weakly, her soft mane turning in delay.
>"I got fired, Anon. I'm so, so sorry."
>You don't answer right away, letting her words sink in.
>Coco had always told you that her boss was a particularly unforgiving mare.
>But Coco had never complained about the actual work.
>She loved designing clothes, making ponies look beautiful with her creativity.
>The fact that she lost it, you can see, has devastated her.
>Before you get a chance to reply, Coco speaks up again.
>"I understand if you want to break up with me. Nobody likes a freeloader."

"Whoa, whoa, slow down, Coco."
>You slide into the kitchen, close the door behind you and leaving the takeout bag where it landed.
>Pulling out a chair, you sit down next to her.
>She doesn't move, continually staring down at the floor.
>You take hold of one of her hooves, holding it delicately, caressing it with your thumb.
>Her leg is limp and doesn't take much to move.
>But she doesn't fight you, so that's good, right?
"Why would I break up with you because you lost your job?"
>Coco looks away, avoiding you.
>"Suri doesn't need me. Why would you?"
"Coco, don't talk like that."
>She braces and gives a little shout.
>"I just want to be valuable to somepony!"
>It's not very loud, but considering how soft-spoken she normally is, this marked rise in volume lets you know just how upset she is.
"You're valuable to me. Doesn't that count?"
>She whips back around and stares at you, almost angry.
>But before long her face softens.
>"Of course! That's not what I…"
>A smile tugs at the sides of your mouth.
>She isn't capable of being mean.
>You stand from the table and go to pick up the bag you dropped on the floor.
"Come on, I brought dinner and rented a movie. Let's relax for a bit. Okay?"
>Coco sits there sort of bewildered, as if she expected you to be upset or mad.
>Anything other than what you are right now.
>You bring the bag over to the kitchen counter and take out the individual boxes.
>Soon, you have two nice neat little plates of food ready to go.
>It doesn't take long to carry them into the living room and place them both on the coffee table.
>You pop the tape into the VCR and soon the living room is bathed in the cool glow of the TV.
>The couch gives forgivingly as you sit down.
>But Coco stays in her kitchen seat, giving you a suspicious look from her chair.
>It's as if she was expecting an argument.
>Or she's waiting to see if this is some kind of ruse on your part.
>You wave idly over to her, motioning for her to join.
"You have to eat sooner or later, Coco."
>Coco looks down at her stomach and runs a hoof over it, clearly famished.
>She gets up from her seat and slowly trots over to you in the living room.
>Her head is bowed, unsure and timid.
>But eventually she reaches the couch and sits next to you.
>You smile down at her as you take a bite of your food.
>She stares back up at you, confused, but soon sets into her own plate.
>The movie starts.
>It's supposed to be about some cheesy spy flick.
>Admittedly it doesn't interest you much anymore.
>What really interests you, is Coco.
>Every few minutes, you look at her as she's distracted by the screen.
>And little by little, the pained look on her face seems to subside.
>The tears dry up and gradually, the sadness in her eyes goes away.
>You place your hand around her hoof again and hold it for awhile.
>You brush her mane affectionately, raking your fingers through her locks.
>She fidgets a bit as you give her these tender little displays of affection.
>That's not to say she dislikes them, though.
>She sort of pushes back into your hand, leaning into it desperately.
>After you both finish your meals, Coco rests up against your shoulder.
>And begins to wrap her hooves around your arm.
>You wrap an arm around her too, pulling her close.
>But soon, even that isn't enough for the two of you.
>Picking Coco up under her forelegs, you lift her into your lap, still facing the screen.
>The cream-colored mare squirms a bit in your grasp, yelping as you lift her off the couch.
>"Anon! Put me d-dow…oh. That's actually…kind of…nice?"
>For the rest of the movie, she stays there..

>Your hands pull on her barrel, bringing her as close as she can possibly be to you.
>The movie finally finishes, but you don't have the heart to move Coco.
>You want the two of you to stay like this. All weekend. Or maybe even forever.
>Instead, as the TV goes dark, you hold her close, nosing her ears and whispers little things into them.
"You're my little coco bean, you know that?"
>It's corny and stupid, but, you want to see her smile. You want to hear her laugh.
>Her hoof playfully slaps at your knee.
>Her cheeks are now just as scarlet as her bow and ascot.
>"Anon! Stop it!"
>Your nimbly fingers begin to tickle her and soon Coco is a writhing heap of giggles.
>The little mare turns to face you, swiveling around in your lap like you're a barstool.
>She rests her head on your chest, hooves wrapping around your ribs.
"Feeling better?"
>She looks away for a moment, cringing as a tinge of sadness comes back.
>But then she looks back at you, her cyan eyes sparkling.
>"Yeah, I think so."
>You stroke her back tenderly, letting your hand glide over her withers.
>Coco seems to practically melt against you.
"I love you, Coco."
>"I love you too, Anon."