Just Mti and You, and You (Clop, Mti x Mua x Anonpony)

[Incomplete]

The cart ride was long and bumpy, giving you little to no opportunity to catch some sleep, but after a few days of travel you finally have arrived on the outskirts of Ponyville. Checking one last time that your bows are firmly tied (your mother always told you it was important to dress smartly to make proper first impressions), you take care not to unnecessarily dirty your hooves as you clamber off the back of the cart and onto the dusty earth below- helped along by the scruffy but very amicable earthpony stallion driving the cart, who offers you a hoof to help you down.

He gives you a wink, before continuing on his way, apple cart in tow. Stallions have always been very helpful to you, and tend to smile and wink a lot. You've always supposed it's just because you're friendly and polite- since whenever you mentioned it to your father, he would always find a way to change the subject.

But that was then, and this is now. Ponyville. A brand new place to explore, all ready for a young stallion to strike out on his own. Of course, you'll need to find a job pretty soon- a source of steady income. And somewhere to stay. Amongst the charmingly quaint store fronts and thatch-roofed homes, you can't quite spot an inn or a bed and breakfast just yet- but you're sure opportunity will present itself, as always it seems to when you watch your manners and always smile and be as nice as you can be.

What you do happen to see is a bar: 'The Winking Mare'. A funny coincidence, you think. Convenient, too- though the nice cart-pulling stallion was very agreeable to you helping yourself to an apple or two on the journey, there wasn't much opportunity to stop and get a drink. You trot in the direction of The Winking Mare, and make your way inside.

You find the interior of the bar to be just as enchantingly rustic as the exterior- the mid-afternoon sunlight gleams through the rippled glass window, casting a warm glow on the long oak bar and tables where maybe half a dozen stallions of various colours and builds are seated.

You notice, seated in a shady booth in the far corner of the bar, two zebra sharing a couple of tall mugs of something alcoholic and heady. Coming, as you are, from a region of Equestria where zebra are not often seen, you can't help but stare curiously for a few moments. Even from here, you note the difference in the shades of their fascinatingly striped coats- one visibly darker than the other, who is quite paler. You're caught momentarily off-guard as the two gentlecolts notice your attentions, and look in your direction, each with a cocked eye which despite yourself makes you feel just a twinge of nervousness.

You bury this, beaming amicably across the room at them, and offering a short wave of one carefully-trimmed hoof. Then, planting your behind on a barstool (with a little difficulty), you try to catch the eye of the bartender, who is trotting up and down the bar taking orders and refilling glasses. You absently notice that, not unusually, your arrival has drawn a few curious eyes from some of the stallions at the bar- as well as several of those sat at the tables behind you, with an incidentally clear view of your back and back-end. Not unfair, you suppose, given that you're a new face in town- and that you were rude enough to be caught staring at some of the clientèle already.

You're pleased to find it does not take very long at all for the smartly-dressed unicorn bartender to notice you seated without a drink and, with an eager smile rivalling even your own friendly disposition, trots over to serve you.

"And what can I get you, my dear?"

You're used to hearing this term of endearment used to address you by stallions and older mares alike. A more perceptive colt might have wondered why it wasn't used in conversation with other males you know nearly as often, but you have never been one for asking too many questions.

"Oh, well, you see... I don't really have any bits, but I've come a very long way. So I'll have a glass of water please, if that's okay."

The unicorn's pleasant demeanor doesn't falter at all, and he leans in closely as he pours a glass and sets it down in front of you, giving you a quick wink as he moves away to attend to some muscular pegasus with an empty shot glass.

"Just so you know, Saturday night is mares' night."

"Oh, well, thank you. I'll remember that if I'm looking for any mares!"

He chuckles at your response, seemingly finding something about it amusing, and leaves you to your tall glass of water- which, after quenching your immediate thirst, you begin to grow a bit bored with. You were never that good at holding your alcohol, and your father, for whatever reason, was very adamant that you never drink enough to find yourself at all inebriated in public. Oddly, he seemed far more permissive about what you could have when you were at home.

All the same, you do wish you had something a little more... Exciting.

Almost as soon as the thought had crossed your mind, the bartender returned, with not one- but two glasses of something colourful and vibrant and utterly, utterly delicious looking. With little paper parasols.

"Two vodka rainbooms, my lady, from the pair of monotone gentlemen over there."

The 'lady' remark doesn't slip you past unnoticed at all, but it's not the first time somepony has made that mistake. You're about to correct him as you glance around quickly in the direction he's gesturing. As you suspected, it's the pair of zebra you locked eyes with accidentally earlier- each of them now grinning slyly, with half-lidded emerald eyes, raising their mugs slightly when they see you looking over. That is, you're pretty sure, an expression of fraternal familiarity. You're making friends already, seemingly!

When you turn back to correct the bartender on his pronoun usage, you find he's already distracted by the trickle of stallions arriving for the evening rush. Instead you simply mutter a 'thank you', and turn your attentions to the beautiful pair of beverages carefully placed before you.

Served in wide-brimmed cocktail glasses, as the name suggests, these opaque drinks have a vibrant, transitioning hue resembling the colours of the rainbow rippling outward from the centre and down the sides of the glass. You sniff one experimentally, and detect a powerful fruity aroma. And an unmistakable, overpowering whiff of some very, very pure vodka mixed in there. Despite it almost appearing somewhat... Girly, this drink might very well be out of your league. And you've just been served two of them. But, of course, you don't want to be impolite...

Ever so carefully, you take the glass between your hooves and take a single quick, cautious sip. You savour the exotic, burning, fruity taste as the viscous liquid rolls down your throat, and lick your lips slightly. That didn't seem so bad.

A few seconds pass, before a sensation not entirely unlike having your brains smashed out by a slice of lemon wrapped around a large gold brick causes you to almost fall from your stool as the very concepts of up and down are torn from you by the best drink you have ever had the pleasure to sample.

You wobble precariously and emit a high-pitched burbling sound, and then hear a cheer go up all around you from the burly, well-watered, out-of-focus regulars of The Winking Mare witnessing you brave your first sip of the establishment's strongest and most expensive drink. It takes you a few moments to move past your swelling pride from the unexpected attention, and realise that you seem to suddenly be horizontal.

Expecting the cold, hard shame of the solid floor, you are pleasantly surprised to in fact find a pair of firm, confident hooves on your back, lifting you back upright. Your two rescuers, not missing a stride, simultaneously seat themselves on the stools on each side of you, the hoof of the stallion on your left sliding up to hook around your neck and briefly stroke your mane, the hoof of the stallion on your right snaking down until it find itself wrapped around your waist- just high enough to not immediately set off alarm bells in your still-reeling head.

"The girl seems eager, but if she drinks any more, she should really try not to collapse on the floor."

The bar finally stops spinning long enough for you to clearly register the identity of the stallion on your left with the proclivity for rhyming- and you are somehow unsurprised to find it is, once again, one of the two zebra stallions you noticed when you first walked in- the darker of the two, to be exact. He leans a little closer to you, pulling you a little closer to his striped, firm chest and smirking down at you with those same low-lidded, green eyes. You hadn't immediately registered just how big these stallions were compared to you.

The paler stallion to your left, who you correctly assumed to be the other zebra, scoots his stool a little closer to yours, until his firm, toned flank is pressed up against your own soft, slightly chubbier one. His hoof reaches further around your belly, squeezing you a little bit closer into a sort of half-embrace, and all of a sudden dips to glide over your inner-thigh, sending a jolt of electric shock through you which shakes off some of the numbing inebriation.

"I agree, dear brother, she should have more care. There are too many stallions around who would... Take advantage of such a delicate young mare."

You do your best to compose yourself, smiling gingerly and fixing your bow as you try to decode the twin zebras' innuendo with your rainboom-addled brain.

"O-Oh, well, thanksh a lot for the help... And the drinksh, of coursss! Th-that was you two... Too... Right?"

The conspiratorial glance between the two of them over your head goes completely over your head.

"Ah, but it would be a crime to let such a sweet thing drink all alone..."

The paler of the two zebra lightly rubs your belly with his hoof, cutting in with just a slightly raised murmur.

"... Particularly if there's any chance of making her our own..."
"Shut up, my dearest brother."

With your responses still slowed by the only gradually subsiding effects of the vodka rainboom, and the confusing but not totally negative feelings stemming from the tantalising caresses of the pale zebra's hoofs on your hind legs, what might have been an alarming remark passes you by unnoticed.