one small step

>You're stirred awake.
>A horn pokes you in the chest.
>Moondancer's writhing in her sleep.
>She asked if you could sleep in here -- not in *that* way -- earlier in the night.
>Granted, it doesn't hurt that she IS a cute little pony.
>Although you didn't say that out loud.

>You were concerned, though.
>Mondays, the two of you would ordinarily go to the library. She'd go over magic theory with you.
>Today she hadn't wanted to leave the house. Spent most of her time in her room.
>You knocked a few times to check on her, always receiving a quiet "Yeah..." but elected otherwise to give her some space.

>Come evening you had barely seen her all day.
>You were reclining on your bed, flipping through 'Modern Telekenetic Applications,' when she knocked softly with her hoof on the ajar door of your room.
>"Are you busy?"
"Just reading. Sorry you weren't feeling up for the library today."
>"Oh... yeah. Sorry."
"No worries. What's up?"
>"I just wanted to ask... well, it's silly."
"Go ahead!"
>"Okay."

>She pauses a moment.
>"Are we friends?"
>You grinned, looking up from your book.
"Moondancer, we-"

>She did not look OK.
>Her ears drooped, her head hung.
>She ordinarily looks a little... well, she never cares about looking any snazzier than she needs to to walk to the library.
>But on front of you then, her favorite sweater looked slept-in and her glasses were askew. She couldn't even bother to attend to a lock of her red mane that had fallen free from her hair tie.
>Her eyes were red, tired, and puffy. She had been crying.

"...Yes, we're friends."
>Probably the best one you've made since you got here, but you don't want her to think you're just laying it on thick.
>She perks up subtlely at this. An ear flaps. You think you detect a little, fleeting smile.
>"I'm glad. I thought so, but then I thought, maybe I have trouble telling. That I'm just your host in Canterlot."
"You got it the first time."
>Another little smile.
>You scooch over on the bed, making some room.
"I guess we haven't spent a lot of time together doing anything but library sessions or tours of the town, though. How about we just hang out?"
>"Oh -- uh, sure!"

>She trots over to the bed and looks up at you, head cocked, questioning the non-verbal part of the invitation you gave her.
>You pat the half of the bed near her and smile.
>She jumps up, reminding you absurdly of a cat.
>She magically arranges a few pillows on front of her and rests her upper body on them, looking at you.
>"So... whatcha reading?"
"Modern Tel-Apps."
>"Ohh, how challenging! Hoofenburg knows his applications, but pedagogy isn't one of them."
>She snorts and flashes a little smile.
>...
>Oh, that was a joke.
>You grin.
"Yeah, the descriptions help. The usual 101 texts are more streamlined, but they assume you know the basics already. I was never a little unicorn though, so, you know. I need all of it from the ground up."
>"Has it helped your casting?"
"Yeah! Page 1: Page Turning. Uh, watch."
>You touch your two index fingers and two thumbs to each other, pinch, and pull them apart.
>The book shuts and flops over.
"...well, it's better than what I managed with the 101 text."
>But Moondancer is beaming.
>"That's wonderful, Anon! You've made a lot of progress."
"Er, thanks! But, I mean, I think I'll still be hand-turning it for the time being."
>"Oh, you'll have it in time. Doesn't help that my copy's only second edition -- really full of errata, isn't it?"
"You must have a good eye. I haven't seen any."
>"Oh! Well, I'd be happy to point them out for you. If, uh, you like, I mean, well..."
>Still worried about intruding. You'll just have to be a little forward.
"Wanna read along with me? Point them out for me? Maybe I can refine that flip."
>You lean back against the headboard and put the book in your lap, leaving a space clear right next to you.

>Moondancer scooches up to your side, maneuvering herself to get a good view of the book in your lap.
>You both lean on the pile of pillows against the headboard.
>You read a few more pages of the book. Moondancer follows along, making an occasional, quiet comment like "I love the description here, but his notation is clunky, isn't it..."
>You'd keep going, but you're distracted.
>Moondancer lies snugly against you. She's warm and her sweater's delightfully fuzzy.
>The loose lock of her mane also brushes your arm as she moves. It's very soft.
>You're not about to yawn and try to get an arm around her or anything, but this is the closest prolonged contact you've had with a pony since arriving in Equestria.
>Early on, you had stayed in Twilight Sparkle's castle while she looked for a place for you to stay and work. She had accidentally pulled you here through some experiment, so she felt she owed you.
>You gave her a scratch behind the ear one time, which she thanked you for, but quickly and politely added that "hands to yourself" applies in Equestria as it does on Earth.
>You've spent weeks resisting the urge to pet and cuddle every tiny horse you see.
>But now there's one right and willingly at hand.
>And she's a wicked cutie.
>As all this ran through your head, you forgot about the book.
>You look to your right to see Moondancer looking at you.
>You've been on the same page for several minutes.
>You smile at her, shut the book, and make a little shrug.
>"Brain full for the day?"
"Yeah."
>Now's as good a time as any.
>You carefully move your hand to the back of her neck, brushing aside the loose lock of her mane as you do so.
"...This okay?"
>Now she's actively snuggling into your side.
>"Yeah."
>You rub her neck and shoulders. She sighs contentedly, but you feel some tension in her.
>Probably time to address the elephant in the room that had been standing around since her unexpected entrance.
"Moondancer... are you doing okay?"

>Moondancer gets quiet.
>She looks away, avoiding eye contact.
>You patiently rub her shoulders, eliciting an occasional little sigh.
>You're this way for a few minutes.
>"...sometimes I still feel lonely."

>You're staying with her in Canterlot to study magic and learn about Equestria from its capital. Keeping an eye on her isn't a responsibility of yours.
>Still, Twilight had briefed you on Moondancer's situation:
>"We write each other every day. She and the rest of my old friends see each other regularly.
>"but she was alone for a long time. That's... that's my fault.
>"I won't force you to become her friend -- that's your decision -- but, please, if you can keep an eye on her, I would really appreciate it."
>And she had given you a checklist.

>So, you go through the first few items.
>You're careful to be matter-of-fact, not to lecture.
"Your friends are all here for you. That includes Twilight. Me, too, even though we haven't known each other so long."
>"I know. Thank you."
>More quiet.
>"I understand that. Intellectually. But some days... a lot of days... I don't feel like it. Like today. I guess I'm just stupid."
"That's normal. I know that doesn't make it feel better, but it's true. You've been through a lot, Moonie."
>The nickname kind of slipped out. You've always called her by her formal name until now.
"How, uh, how you're feeling, it's normal. We're all here to help you through it."
>Surprisingly, she chuckled.
>"No one's called me 'Moonie' in a while. Hee-hee!"
>Then she sniffed. And she was sobbing.

>Well, you've done it now.
>Pony is inconsolable.
>Moondancer is splayed on the bed belly-down.
>Her sobs are high-pitched, more so than her speaking voice.
>Each one racks her whole body. Otherwise, she barely moves.
>Her eyes just look down at the fabric of your quilt.
>She's pouring tears with every blink.
>Her expression looks for all the world as if you've disappeared. Elemental helplessness.

>You've seen a few ponies cry, but usually it's brief, situation-specific, melodramatic. Even cute.
>They just seem to be very expressive like that, culturally.
>That's nothing like what you're seeing.
>Somehow, Twilight's checklist for this scenario -- reassure her you're there for her, give her a hug if she is comfortable with one, offer her a tissue -- rings hollow.
>All you can think of is just to reach out and gently rub Moondancer's back.
>Keep her breathing or something, you figure.
>You take off her glasses, too, while you're at it. They're getting soaked.
>You don't expect her reaction.
>She musters just enough energy to get up, plod into your lap, and bury her face in the Canterlot U. sweatshirt she haphazardly tailored to fit you as a "welcome" gift.
>She's a grown mare, so she doesn't quite fit in your lap.
>You lie back to give her some room to comfortably position her butt and hind legs.
>Her forelegs she puts on either side of you.
>You wrap your arms around her in return.

>You can't really think of much to say.
"You're safe, okay? You're safe here. I'm not leaving. Take all the time you need."
>All the while she's still shaking with sobs.
>She manages a "t... thank... HUP... I..." before breaking back down.
>As the minutes drag on, you make out a few other words, softly whimpered:
>"WhyHUPcan't...I makeHUPfriends?...W-why am I broken?...HUP...What'sHUPwrong with me?...what's wrongHUPwith me? what's...?"
>You keep holding her.

>You've decided that having a girl cry on your shoulder isn't all it's cracked up to be.
>"A girl," you think, because, suddenly, you think of ponies the same way you think of humans.
>With their weird friendliness in public -- their semi-utopian world -- you hadn't until now gotten over how alien they were.
>Moondancer's a crack in Equestria's facade of perfection.
>Or, less pretentiously, Equestria's novelty has just worn out.
>It's a different but normal place, full of normal people with normal difficulties.
>People just don't always discuss their difficulties in public.
>Which is normal.

>Speaking of difficulties, and back to the point, your sweatshirt's... wet.
>It's all part of the moment, which, overall, is overwhelming.
>You're still hugging Moondancer tight.
>She's finally calm, only sniffling occasionally.
>But when you get the chance, you'll have to change into something that isn't soaked with tears and snot.

>Finally, Moonie manages to speak:
>"I... I feel okay again. Thank you. Sorry, I'm... I'm really embarrassed."
"Is that better than how you felt ten minutes ago?"
>"Hee-hee! Yeah."
>Another quiet minute passes.
>"Anon?"
"Yeah?"
>"I like this. But, er, I have to pee."
"Oh. Right."
>You let up on the tight hug and find Moondancer's glasses for her.
>"I'll be right back."
>You use the moment to sling your sweatshirt over your desk chair.
>It's not pretty.
>You layer back up with a longsleeve tee.
>You look out the window and idly notice how late it is and how tired you are.

>A telltale clopping precedes Moondancer coming back into your room.
>"...Anon?"
"Hey, Moonie."
>"I know it's late, but can we talk a little while? There's a lot I need to get off my chest, I guess. And I'm happy you've been so patient with me..."
"It IS kind of late..."
>"Right. Maybe we can just talk in the morning?"
>You realize you're missing out on more quality pone cuddling time. >Maybe now with less precipitation.
"You know, I can sleep in. What's on your mind?"

>"Oh, uh, can we move to my room first? I have a cozy reading nook we could sit in, or, my bed's a size larger than the guest one, and the mattress is a little softer, and..."
>Her eyes widen and she breaks eye contact.
>"Oh, not that... I mean, uh, for sitting on, like we were... and not that I'm uncomfortable in here, I mean, uh, I-"
"It's a good spot for friends to chill. Gotcha."
>You put a delicate but unmistakable emphasis on "friends."
>"Right! It's, uh, 'wicked comfy!'"
>You find it so cute when she borrows human vernacular from you that it's hard to resist sperging out, but you manage it this time.
>You flash her a smile and get up.
"Maybe I'll be the judge of that!"

>You've got to give Moondancer credit.
>You expected her room to be filthy.
>It's actually pristine. Organized to within centimeter tolerance.
>That's excluding a wastebasket full of a mountain of tissues by her bed.
>You give her a pass on that.
"First time I've been in here. Didn't know it was so nice!"
>"You can come in any time!" she says, lightly touching your leg with her shoulder, letting you know she's there.
>"-as long as you... you know... knock," she adds, glancing sidelong at her dresser as you look down at her.

>Looking at her, you realize how exhausted she looks.
>Your mind goes back to that wastebasket.
"I-I'm sorry I didn't check on you sooner. I should have realized something was up as soon as you cancelled on the library..."
>"It's okay. You're here with me now!"
>That doesn't entirely shake your guilt, but it helps.

>Moondancer hops up on the bed.
>"The nook's nice, but I think we'd both like to lie down..."
"Oh, definitely."

"Timber."
>"Eep!"
>POMF
>The bed is, as promised, wicked comfy. It had only made sense to throw your full weight on -- oh.
>Pony is fraction of human weight, you recall, as you're winded by kilograms of sweaterhorse landing squarely on your chest.

>Moonie's giggling uncontrollably.
>"Anon! You're too big to pull stuff like that around ponies!"
>She says something like that, but you're distracted.
>Your vision is obscured by two big, round scoops of Raisin Bran that have been placed before you.
>Except the Raisin Bran is actually premium Booty Flakes.
<An interlude passes as the writefag is awarded a PhD for this metaphor.>
>You avert your gaze and make some vocalization to tell Moondancer to get off, but not before her tail flicks.
>You get a close-up reminder that she is, in fact, a girl pony.

"Er, Moondancer."
>"...Oh! Oh. Sorry!" she says, rolling off you.
>Then, turning around: "You, uh, you didn't..."
"You have a lovely tail."
>You say this just a little too politely.
>She blushes furiously.
>"Hee-hee... um. Sorry. Thanks."

>You each move up to the pile of pillows at the headboard.
>It's really a nice setup. Four-poster, canopied. This horse is serious about sleep.
"Alright. So, what's up? I'm concerned about you, Moonie."
>"Right."
>She curls up next to you, relaxing. You recline, keeping an arm free to scratch her ear.
>"Well, it's like this..."

>And the pony spilled her heart out to you.
>It sounds like she's been aching to tell someone about this for ages.
>You sit and listen quietly. Let her get it out. Pass an occasional tissue.
>Finally, she pauses, looking at you for the answer to some unstated question.
"It's still that bad?"
>"Yeah. I mean, Twilight visiting me was one of the happiest days I've had in a long time. I'm so happy being back in touch with my friends. It's just..."
>She gets quiet again.
"That kind of change doesn't happen overnight."
>"...I was lonely for so long. I recognize I'm a pony with friends, now. But, my brain and my heart... it feels like they just won't go back. Like I got broken."
>More quiet.
"Moonie?"
>"Sorry. I'm crying for no reason again."
>She sniffs.
>"Just wanted to put you in another snotty, uncomfortable situation. Because-"
>Her voice breaks.
>"-I'm a fucking stupid little pony who dumps all her problems on you. Who can't make friends except by having them feel s-sorry for... for..."
>She's silent this time. She just stares down on front of her. Tears drip off her chin and muzzle.
>You rub her neck.
>You stay that way for a while.

"I... I think you're my best friend."
>This is the smooth way you break the silence.
>"Yeah."
"I mean, in Equestria, I know you, and I know Twilight. That's about it."
>"The Princess of Friendship."
"Well... yeah. Oh. Also, the barista at the coffee place at the end of your block. Talks my ear off every time I stop by for an espresso."
>"Two ponies much more interesting than me."
"Neither of them volunteered their home to me just on the basis of a few introductory letters. And neither of them offer every day to hang out and help me study magic and local culture without my even having to ask. I mean, Twilight was apologetic for accidentally pulling through to this place, but you wouldn't believe how excited she was to get me out the fuckin' door. And well, neither of whom I've just spent so much fucking good time with. Right?"
>You realize saying all this out loud that you might have some issues of your own to attend to.
>They can wait, you figure, as you're not the one who's been bawling uncontrollably all day.
>Thankfully, your rambling got a smile out of Moonie.
>"...I guess you have good evidence for your argument."
>She sniffs.
>"I know you're embellishing things just a bit, but... that's all still really kind of you to say. Thank you."
"I'm glad. I just want you to understand, you know, getting to know you... it's meant a lot to me. I'm really sorry I didn't tell you as much earlier."
>For this, you get a Moondancer snuggling into your side, under your armpit.

>You figure it's an opportune time to fuckin' go for something you've wanted to do.
"Okay, weird question."
>"Mmh?"
"Is it cool if I give you a belly rub?"
>"...Oh. Um, why?"
"Well... right, I haven't said this out loud to anyone for, you know, fear of having my ass handed to me."
>"And that is?"
"Can you imagine if, say, uh... bunnies, right... if bunnies were sapient? If they had their own advanced society? Like ponies do?"
>"Oh, that would be really cute."
"Yeah. Uh, that's what Equestria's like. To a human."
>"...You find us cute?"
"Fucking adorable. Keeping my hands to myself all day is like some kind of hell, Moonie, if I'm totally honest."
>"Oh."
>And there's the awkward silence. Well, at least you got that off your-
>"Do you... do you think I'M cute?"

>Suddenly, it hits you the extent to which you've just said way, way too much.
>You've blown your sperg OPSEC, retard.
"That is, I mean, uh."
>Wow, good cover.
>"...I think a little massage would be just fine. Just keep it, er, you know. North."
>...Good God.
>She's actually cool with it.
>She's not calling the police. Or the guards. Whatever it is in this town.
"You're cool with it? Because I was... I was way too fucking honest just then. I get it if you're weirded-"
>"Hee! You're modest. Cheering me up, staying with me, calling me a cutie and thinking I'm not going to want to cuddle."
"Well."'

>You get your arm under her and scoop her onto your chest.
>"Mmh."
>It's finally happening.
>You get to pet a pone.
>This time without getting your shirt ruined and without her little sobs threatening to crush your heart.
>You get a hand under her forelegs.
>A few fingers under her sweater.
"Hm?"
>"Mh."
>You go a little further and gently scritch her chest.
>You were a little worried she'd be... well, greasy.
>But she feels clean and soft.
>That creamy coat's the real deal.
>For your efforts, you get nuzzled against your neck and jaw.
>"...You're pretty cute, too. For the record."

"Of course I am."
>"Pff."
>You keep rubbing her upper body, working on her tense spots, but something's on your mind.
>First of all, you're developing funny feelings for her.
>She's a horse, Anon.
>Momma Nature's calling. She say this ain't right.
>But this is in the back of your head.
>Second of all, and most importantly, you're about to pass out.
>You're fucking exhausted. Been a long day.
"Moonie?"
>"Yeah?"
"Feeling okay?"
>"I'm glad you're here."
"I understand. Not everything will change overnight."
>"No. But... I'm so glad you're here for me. I didn't think I'd be able to stop crying today."
>Oh God, your heart.
"That's really good. I'm here for you, okay? Get me if you need me. Let's do something fun tomorrow. Other than study."
>She smiles. "That sounds great. It's a plan."
"Great! I'll see you in the morning, Moonie."
>You start making your way out.
>"A...Anon?"
"Yeah?"
>"Sorry, but... would you like to sleep in here?"

>>HOL UP, HOL UP.
"Oh Christ. Momma Nature?"
>>BOY I KNOW I DIDDEN JUST HEAR Y'ALL USING THE LORD'S NAME IN VAIN.
"I didn't know you were Christian?"
>>I'M IN IT FOR THE COMMUNION WAFERS. I STICK ROUND AFTER THE SERVICE AND THE FATHER GIVES ME THE LEFTOVERS. I EAT EM WITH MILK LIKE CAPPEN CRUNCH.
"That... that sounds good."
>>BOY DON'T YOU GO GEDDIN ME OFF-TOPIC. YOU AN ME BOTH KNOW I'M HERE CAUSE YOU HAVIN' UNCLEAN THOUGHTS BOUT THAT CUTE LITTLE PONY ON THE BED.
"I mean, I'm kind of conflicted-"
>>WE BOTH KNOW I'M HERE CAUSE YOU THINKIN BOUT VIOLATIN HER MAREHOOD WITH YO RIGID SIX-INCH.
"That's-"
>>CAUSE YOU THINKIN BOUT STICKIN YO FACE BETWEEN THOSE PLUMP BUNS YOU SAW EARLIER AND MOATERBOATIN THEM LIKE TIDDIES.
"...I mean, did you see them?"
>>BOY, THAT LITTLE PONY'S THICK LIKE A BOWL OF MASHED POTATOES. POTATOES DRENCHED IN BUTTER AND GRAVY AND GRANMA'S MIXED A LITTLE CREAM INTO THEM CAUSE IT THANKSGIVING AND SHE WANTED THEM SPECIAL.
"That's... aren't you trying to dissuade me?"
>>MOTHAFUCKA I KNOW ABOUT YOU AN YO PREVERSIONS. GETTIN' ALL WOBBLY-LEGGED FOR GIRLS WITH A LITTLE PUDGE ON THEM. IF IT WEREN'T FOR YO FEELIN THAT PONY'S CUTE SOFT LITTLE TUMMY UP JUST NOW I'D BE AT HOME ENJOYING SOME BODY OF OUR LORD WITH HALF-AN-HALF.
"Oh, fuck me."
>>YOU WATCH THAT LANGUAGE!
"...Look, she's in a bad place emotionally, right? So I don't wanna take advantage of her. And, I don't even fucking get-"
>>LANGUAGE!
"-I don't get pony culture. This could just be friendly interaction."
>>...the toughts that little pony havin' when you goin to second-base on her makin' Jesus cry, I'll tell you bout "friendly interaction..."
"What?"
>>NOTHING. LOOKS LIKE YOU GOT YO HEAD SCREWED ON RIGHT, BUT I SWEAR IF Y'ALL GO MAKIN ME COME BACK HERE WHEN I'M ENJOYING MY CHRIST CRISPIES --
"Fine, fine."
>>YOU KNOW WHAT CUTE LITTLE MARES LIKE HER DO WHEN THEY CUM, ANON? THEY PISS EVERYWHERE.
"Ok, I get it."
>Momma Nature floats up into the sky.
>You hear a distant "EEEEVERYWHERE!"

...
>"Would you like to sleep in here?"
"Oh. Sure!"
>"Yay! I'll fluff up this pillow just... for... you," she says, magicking the one you were lying on up and shaking it to punctuate her words.
>You sit on the edge of the bed.
>You just need to address the elephant in the room.
>Namely, you can't tell if she's... well... propositioning you.
>Notwithstanding your autism when it comes to understanding intimate situations, you just want to make sure you're both comfortable.
"One thing?"
>"Sure!"
"You sure you want me in here? I move a lot in my sleep, and, you know, you can get me down the hall..."
>"Oh."
>She trots up to your side.
>"Honestly, it'll help me sleep. After days like this, I sometimes wake up, and I don't remember that Twilight visited. I think I'm still in my old life. It gets... it gets bad."
>This pone just keeps finding ways to break your heart.
>"I just thought, if I wake up and see a friend with me, it'll help."
"That's fine. No more questions. Just wanted to make sure you're comfortable with it."
>She smiles.
>"I feel really comfortable with you."

>You lie back on your pillow.
>You get the left side of the king-sized bed (why does a pony even need a mattress this large?).
>Your side is the nightstand side. A candle flickers next to you.
>You look back.
>The little flame is reflected in Moondancer's specs as she trots up to the headboard.
>She floats her glasses and hair tie over your head to the top of the nightstand.
>Her bangs drop down on front of her face, obscuring her vison.
>She shakes them to the side.
>Her mane frames her face nicely let down, but you suspect it's a nuisance to keep out of her eyes all day.
>"I don't wear my sweater to sleep. Would you mind, uh?"
>She gestures with her head to the opposite wall of the room: turn around a moment, she means.
"Sure."
>You contemplate your own PJs while she removes her sweater.
>You hear the telltale ring of her magic -- someone running a finger on the rim of a wet glass -- then wooly static, and the soft rustling of fabric.
>"Okay! I'm decent."
>You turn back around.
>Pony is sweaterless.
>It's fine to see her clothed or unclothed, but not changing.
>Horse privacy is weird.
>...
>It's hard to tell in the candlelight: is she blushing?

>You realize a second too late you were staring.
>"Hehe... I, uh... usually, I always wear it around other ponies."
>"Or people," she adds.
"You look lovely with or without it."
>Hopefully you didn't lay it on too much.
>"Thanks!"
>Phew.

>You left unsaid that the body she had developed sitting around reading so much was giving you more of those confused feelings.
>The extra weight she was shy about was only a pound or two. You'd seen way worse oinkers waddling around when you took walks through the wealthy districts.
>But it's...
>...
>Fuck it, admit it to yourself: It's in the right places.
>Just a little pudge on her belly to give her some squeeze. The rest is on her thighs and bum.
>It... it works.
>Against your better judgement, your heart rate picks up.
>Momma Nature must have had a nightcap and passed out in a bowl of Special 'J.'

>"It's a pretty warm night. Aren't you warm in that shirt?"
>Come to think of it, you are.
"Right! Just let me -- there we go."
>Without thinking, you pull your shirt up over your head, ball it up, and throw it over to the dresser against the wall.
>You look back at Moondancer.
>No questions now, she's completely scarlet.
>Also, averting her eyes toward the corner of the ceiling.
>...Right. Changing.
"My bad. You can look back."
>She looks at you and smiles, still a little she about eye contact the moment after.
>"We both get a little show, right?"
"Pff. Yeah."

>Then you both lie down.
>Pony is in cuddle proximity.
>Oh, fuck it.
>You reach over, scoop Moondancer up by her head and butt, and bring her over.
>"Oh!"
>You wait a second for an 'okay.'
>She smiles at you.
>"Good night, Anon."
"Night, Moonie."
>She magics the blanket up over the pair of you.
>You lick your thumb and middle fingertips and snuff out the candle.

>You're both lying there a minute.
>Suddenly, you feel something wet against your neck and jaw.
>That is a pone kiss, you realize.
>There's an interesting sort of contrast between the moist tip of her tongue and the fuzz on her snout.
>"Thank you for being here with me."
"Any time."

>You're stirred awake.
>A horn pokes you in the chest.
>Moondancer's writhing in her sleep.
>"Hrn... no... I... hn."
>You reach over and scratch the back of her neck.
>"I... mmh."
>She calms down.

>You remind yourself she's not just an animal, but, still, this is pretty therapeutic.
>You gently rub her sides, her ribs, her belly -- oh Christ, that's just a perfect amount of give.
>You can faintly feel her heart lub-dub as you pet her.
>"Mh."
>You might've woken her up.
>You get her lower back, just above the base of her tail.
>Her tail flicks instinctively, so you move to her flank.
>You rub her coat over her cutie mark and try to see in the dark how it moves.
>"Mmmstop touchin' my butt," she mumbles.

>Whoops.
>Fuck it.
"You got a cute butt though."
>She wiggles her hips under your hand.
>You feel her muscles alternate -- tighten, relax -- as she does so.
>She nuzzles her head into your torso and unsuccessfully blows a sleepy raspberry through your chesthair.
"Okay, okay."
>"...Touchin' a mare's butt..."
>You move your hand up to her shoulders, which she likes better.
"Is your cutie mark -- is it, like, on your skin, or just in your coat?"
>"Wha?"
"Your cutie mark."
>"No touchin' my butt."
"Is it on your coat, or, like, in your skin, Moonie? Like... like a tattoo, or something? Do ponies do tattooes, Moonie? How would that-"
>"Fur!"
"What color's your skin under your fur."
>"S'black."
"What-"
>"Mmh."
"Okay."

>You each go back to sleep.
>She smells nice, you notice.
>Like a horse. But not, like, a nasty horse. Not like a rank horse.
>She smells like a nice horse.

>A sunbeam finds its way through a gap in the curtains.
>You lie stationary looking at it. Your eyes drink the light.
>You can smell dew and grass through the window.
>It feels like a perfect spring day is taking shape.
>You hear the distant sound of someone starting a lawnmower.
>They're not doing too well. They keep pulling the cord over and over.
>...
>Pones don't have lawnmowers.
>Moondancer just snores.

>You look over to see her, mouth hanging open, a small puddle of drool forming on her pillowcase.
>"ZZZZZZZ."
>You should... you should roll her over or something.
>You place a palm under her forelegs and push her onto her side, facing away from the window.
>"Mmm," she says, getting hold of your hand between her forelegs.
>You're stuck.
>Any sudden movement would wake pony up.
>You're a better guest than that.
>...
>Your arm's falling asleep.
>You stretch the fingers out on your stuck hand and tickle her a bit.
>She doesn't respond at first.
>Then: "Ahhhn... ohh..."
>Well, it's something.
>"Mmm... you too, hehe..."
>Pony is dreaming.
>Discomfort aside, it's kind of cute.
>She lets up on your arm, but not before leaning forward and licking your index and middle fingertips.
>"That's very... heehee..."
>She drifts back off to sleep.
>You climb quietly out of bed, out the door, and down the hall to the shower.
>You use your palm to push your awkward wood down one leg of your pajamas.

>It occurs to you that you should stop by your room first.
>You sit at your desk, grabbing a quill and stationary.

Dear Twilight Sparkle:
Writing concerning your asking me to look after Moondancer while she helps me with my studies in Canterlot.
She's seemed fine until recently. As it turns out, she keeps her troubles very private. She hasn't been okay. She was distraught enough last night that --
>you should be careful how you describe last night's events...
-- your checklist didn't suffice to cover the situation. I managed to keep her calm enough to get to sleep.
We've agreed that we should ditch studying today and do something fun together. Thought that might help take her mind off this. But I only know the parts of Canterlot that I frequent. So, the cafe and library. You told me you grew up here. Wonder if you have any suggestions?
Yours...

>You sign it and pull your lighter from a drawer.
>You flick it.
>A yellow, intense flame comes from it.
>You roll up the parchment and touch the end to the fire.
>The letter glows and disintegrates.
>Sparkle's an early bird, you recall, so hopefully she'll get back to you by the time you've cleaned up.
>You get up and head again to the bathroom.

>You turn on the water a little cool and step in.
>It's a nice feeling.
>Like last night's tears are getting rinsed off and going down the drain.
>Today'll be good, you're certain.
>What to do first, though?
>If Twi doesn't get back to you soon, you may as well try the cafe.
>To your knowledge, Moondancer's never tried coffee, so you could probably sell it to her as a learning opportunity.
>You've gotten to know the barista, too, who sometimes chats with you -- at you, more like -- during slow hours.
>Moonie's concerned about making friends, so maybe finding ponies like that and chatting as a group could help her get out there.

>KNOCK KNOCK.
"Morning!"
>"Hi Anon. When'll you be done?"
"I'm taking a shower. Just a few-"
>"Oh, good."
>Aaand she's opened the door.
>"You don't mind if I step in? I figure we should get an early start."
"Um."
>Oh, right.
>Horses always naked.
"...Sure."

>Eh, you should probably stop her and explain-
>She's already jumped in.
>"It's a little chilly. Mind if I turn the hot up?"
>...
>"Anon?"
"Yeah, s'fine."
>"You okay?"
"Humans... not usually naked..."
>"Oh. OH. Sorry. Um... I'm already all wet, though."
>So she is.
>Her mane's pretty long let down. Almost reaches her hooves.
>You can't help but notice how her coat sticks to her underneath the shower, accentuating her shape.
"It's cool."
>"And my eyesight's really bad without my glasses! You're pretty blurry to me."
"I'm convinced. Turn the hot up!"

>You step back and soap up to give Moondancer a minute under the water.
>You can't help but notice how upbeat she is this morning.
>She turns her head side to side under the water, smiling and humming softly and tunelessly to herself.
>She stretches out under the shower, letting the water run over her back, and yawns.
>Then she turns around, lifting a leg and letting the water get under her tail and between her thighs.
>You realize you've been scrubbing the same armpit and staring at her for a minute or two.
>Best to avert your gaze.
>You-
>>BOY I KNOW I AIN'T SEEIN WHAT I THINK I'M SEEIN.
>...Uh-oh.

"M-Momma Nature! I can explain!"
>>I BET YOU CAN EXPLAIN OGLING THAT CUTE LIDDLE PONY PUTTIN' ON A SHOW WHILE YOU ALL INDECENT.
"We're just washing up..."
>>OH YOU PO DIRTY BOY. ALL THE SOAP IN THE WORLD AIN'T GON CLEAN UP YO FILTHY MIND.
"It-"
>>I KNEW I SHOULDN'T HAVE FINISHED OFF DINNER WITH THAT FIFTH OF SCOTCH. LORD ONLY KNOWS WHAT YO NASTY ASS GOT UP TO WITHOUT MY GUIDIN' HAND.
>Well, at least she doesn't know about the intimate snuggling, the smooch, the booty grab...
>>MOTHA FUCKA I CAN HEAR YO INTERNAL DIALOGUE.
>Shit.
>>LANGUAGE!

>>LAWD JESUS, FORGIVE MY NOT LOOKIN OVER YO LOST LAMB WANTIN'A GET HIS MEAT SUNK IN THAT INNOCENT LIDDLE PONY OVER YONDER.
"C-come on."
>>FORGIVE MY NOT KEEPIN' HIM SAFE FROM THE TEMPTATION OF LIFTIN' HER UP RIGHT HERE AND NOW, WORKIN' HIS MOUTH UNDER HER PRETTY RED TAIL LIKE A PIE EATIN CONTEST.
>>FORGIVE-

>"Anon?"
>Thank God.
"What's up, Moonie?"
>"Hand me the soap? I wanna lather up."
>Without breaking eye contact with Momma Nature, you stoop down, let Moondancer magic the soap from your grip, and stand back up.
"I'll get back under the water. Gotta rinse off."
>"Sure!"

>You grin.
"See? Totally friendly. Didn't ask me to... to wash her sensually. In areas she 'can't reach.' Or anything."
>Momma Nature glares at you, arms crossed, her stare like lightning sparking life in the god damn primordial ooze.
>Against no expectation you would ever hold, she breaks the silence.
>>You gullible fuckin' ass, you know last week she told you she's nearsighted.
"That's... what does that have to do with... look, I'll be good, okay? We're just going out for a walk or something."
>>I'M WATCHIN' YOU, ANON. I'M WATCHIN!
>And she floats off to... wherever.

"Moonie?"
>"Yeah?"
"What do you say to coffee? I like to get it before I meet you at the library, usually. Maybe you'd like to try it?"
>"Sounds good! I have an index of different beans I can bring, I've studied different methods of preparation..."
>You listen contentedly as she goes on about the differences between traditional coffee and the more popular 'Equestricano.'
>The day's definitely shaping up good.

>You dry up and make your way to your room before Moondancer gets her glasses back on.
>As you pull a fresh pair of boxers from your dresser, a note appears on your desk in a purple flash of light.
>You pull on your underwear and go to read it:

>Dear Anon,
>Glad you and Moondancer have gotten close. Sorry to hear she's still having trouble. Wish I had more time to come visit.
>Your suggestion of the cafe sounds nice. I've read this model -- Trotterton's, I think -- of cafes as the modern watering hole, a gathering place for the local populace, which disappeared with the advent of plumbing, but since coffee is chemically addictive --
>Sorry, I digress. I'm sure you're about to head out.
>As for suggestions -- if I recall correctly, there's a theater company that does Gotland and Stallion every other Friday in Tower Park, near the west vista.
>I'm not sure if Moondancer likes music, but I'm sure she'd appreciate their literary and cultural significance!
>Have fun today. Write me when you get the chance!
>Best
>T.S.

>The cafe's a few blocks from Moondancer's, at the corner of her street and Royal Library Way.
>Pones aren't very creative with street names.
>It's been a good stop between Moondancer's and the library when you've needed a pick-me-up.
>You've become enough of a regular there that the barista working the morning hours knows your name.
>To your chagrin.
>"ANOOON! Hi!"
>Sweet Biscuit, her name is.
>Brown coat, tan mane, lime green eyes. Cookie buttmark.
>And perky as hell at the crack of dawn.
>You've thought about asking her to tone it down during the occasional hangover, but if you inadvertantly hurt her feelings you wouldn't be able to live with yourself.
"Morning, Biscuit."
>You hold open the door for Moondancer, who comes in behind you.
>"Oh, and you look like a new customer! Welcome to the Corner Cafe! I'm Sweet Biscuit."
>Pones aren't very creative with business names.
>"Oh, hello!" says Moondancer. "I'm Moondancer! I'm a friend of Anon's."

>"Oh, YOU'RE Moondancer!" says Sweet Biscuit. And then, a little singsong: "Anon's told me *all about* you!"
>You try to remember any conversation you've had with Biscuit that wasn't one-sided.
>You recall saying two or three words about rooming with Moondancer when you met.
>Someone who gets in one sentence of their own in a conversation with Biscuit must seem quite outspoken to her.
>"'All about' me, huh?" jests Moondancer, nudging your leg affectionately with her hoof.
"Uh... yeah."

>"The usual for today, Anon?"
>That's a medium coffee (Equestrian beans are strong--the large is so much caffeine it fucks you up) and a croissant to soak it up.
>The pastries are Biscuit's specialty. She makes them every day. Wicked good stuff.
"Yeah, Biscuit."
>"And what for you, Moondancer?"
>"I know just what I want!" says Moondancer, approaching the counter. "I've consulted all sorts of literature about coffee bean horticulture, harvesting, grinding, brewing..."

>You zone out and stare as Moondancer goes on about the subject, recounting a short history of different brews, veering off at one point on a tangent about sommeliers...
>Biscuit, to your surprise, is a great listener, smiling, nodding, and responding as if she's listening to the most interesting story in the world.
>"...so, I'd like an espresso, please!" she finally says.
>"A bold choice!" Biscuit says. "Would you like a pastry, too? Made with love, I guarantee! You can see our selection in the case, here..."
>Moonie's taken aback.
>"Oh... I didn't look up what snacks to try! Can, uh, can you help me decide?"

>And the two go off into conjecture over the finer points separating the chocolate-filled croissant from the raspberry-filled, the gingersnap from the sugar cookie...
>This is going to take a while.
>A magenta mare behind you gets your attention.
>"Are you, uh, with her?"
"Yeah."
>"Are they gonna...?"
"Fraid so."
>She cocks her head at you.
"I'll... I'll cover your drink."
>She looks satisfied.

>After much deliberation, Moondancer decides on a fruit tart with a wedge of lemon.
>You leave enough bits at the counter for that and her espresso. >Also a few for the magenta mare's drink.
>"How nice of you!" says Biscuit.

>You opt for a few seats on the second floor of the cafe, from which there's an unobstructed view of the boulevard.
>"Lovely!" remarks Moondancer. "Can't believe I never thought to come here before."
"Yeah--it's a little out-of-the-way, but it's a nice spot. Haven't found another like it in Canterlot. And I like a little caffeine before our library sessions."
>"Mmph," Moondancer replies, working on the tart.
"The view out the window's nice, right? Can pony-watch while you eat. Not a bad way to spend a morning. A lot of them seem to like that diner across the way. I'd give it a shot, but I think if Biscuit caught me dodging the cafe on a weekday, it'd break her heart..."
>Moondancer continues to mumble muffled affirmatives through her food.
>Finally, she finishes her pastry.
>"She IS quite nice. I liked talking to her."
"And you like her baking, clearly."
>You gesture toward your collar. Moondancer looks at you a moment, says "oh," and brushes a stray crumb off her sweater.
>"Hehe. Yeah. Wish I could bake like that, but I guess you need to experiment to get that good. And, me, you know... I like sticking to the recipes as they're written."
"We could have her over! She seemed to like talking to you, and I bet she could give you a few pointers."
>"Oh... I'm just some customer, though. I don't want to annoy her."
>Moondancer gives her espresso an experimental sip. She makes a face for a moment, but it changes back quickly. She seems to decide it's okay.
>"And anyway, I bet she has friends other than us she hangs out with."
"I think she might surprise you."
>"Oh?"
"You know I've never been in a conversation with her where she wasn't talking for most of it? Your talking with her all about the coffee and the baking, it's the first time I've ever seen her listen quietly to another pony."
>You each look over toward Sweet Biscuit, who's talking some stallion's ear off at the counter. She's going on about the difference between a croissant and a breakfast roll. Then, somehow, she's gone on a tangent about her cousin in Baltimare.
>Poor guy's clearly trying to get away, but he's having the same issue you always have: if you cut Biscuit off and hurt her feelings, you're not sure if you'd ever forgive yourself.
>Stupid, cute-ass horses.

>"...you have a point," remarks Moondancer, as the barista goes on and on.
>"Um... what... how do I say this."
"Huh?"
>"Do I... do I just ask her if she wants to be my friend?"
>Based on your own experiences, humans look at you sideways and call you retarded when you say that kind of thing.
>But pones are all about sincerity.
>It's one of the things, culturally, you really like about Equestria, even if their overwhelming friendliness wears you out on occasion.
"I think she'd be fine with that. Maybe suggest something specific we can do together, though. Then we'll have plans right off the bat."
>"Oh! Good idea."
>"..."
>"Uh, you don't think she's the bookish sort, do you?"
"Wouldn't bet on it."
>"That's... that kind of exhausts my ideas."
"Really?"
>"An intellectual knows better than anyone the limits of her own knowledge."
>Neckbeardy as shit from anyone else, adorable from her.
>"Any suggestions?"
>So you're the socially adept member of the duo.
>That's a first.
"Well, I remember Twi telling me we could see Gotland and Stallion in the park?"
>"Oh! Fascinating!"
"But I thought... you know... that could be, uh,"
>Put a cap on the spaghetti, numbnuts.
"--something, you know, just the two of us could do."
>Moondancer smiles. Blushes a little, too.
>"I'd like that."
>You swear you can feel Momma Nature's disapproving breath on your neck.
>You need to figure out quick whether or not this is platonic.
>...
>What the fuck do you mean?
>She's a horse, Anon.
>Stop being ridiculous.

>"...uh, Anon?"
>You snap out of it.
>"We still need to think of something we could invite Sweet Biscuit to do."
"Right."
>Come on. You can think of something. What do people with friends do?
"I don't know, uh, a board game, or--"
>"OH! I have a limited edition set of 'Settlers of Saddle-Arabia!' It's my favorite! My sister and I used to play all the time! Do you play?"
"No, but I could--"
>"Great!"
>She's already trotting off to talk to Biscuit, mumbling quietly to herself about the best time of day to play, her favorite game resources and references...
>You wonder where her earlier concern about approaching Biscuit went as you overhear snippets of discussion: "Anon and I ... a game or two tonight! ... three is an optimal ..."
>Biscuit smiles and says something.

>Moondancer comes back to your table.
>She tries to whisper, but she can't quite control the volume of her voice.
>"She said she'd LOVE TO! I DID it! I made a friend, a friend! She'll come by at dusk with COOKIES! We're gonna--"
>Ponies are starting to look over.
"That's great, but how about we get some air? Walk the vista? Then you can tell me all about it."
>Moondancer comes back down to earth, looking around sheepishly.
>"Ehe... sounds good!"
>You make your way out of the coffee shop, giving Biscuit a quick wave.