More 02: Something More


                                            >"Are you *really* going to pay me ten dollars to eat a hayburger?"

                                            "Or two."

                                            >You shrug.

                                            >This is not how you expected today to go, but you shouldn't be surprised.

                                            >You *knew* something had to be wrong when you saw a pegasus selling body on the street for $10.

                                            >A pegasus willing to do *anything* for $10.

                                            >With the figure of a supermodel.

                                            >Of course it was too good to be true.

                                            >She's a fucking *child* and she's starving.

                                            >So thin you can see her ribs.

                                            >But no, you thought you'd gotten lucky.

                                            >You're such an idiot.

                                            >No one gets that lucky.


                                            >"You're back!"

                                            >She sounds happy.

                                            >You *aren't*.

                                            "And you're back, too."

                                            >She's too young to be out here.

                                            "Dammit, S'more, did the shelter kick you out? What did you do?"

                                            >"N-nothing, I swear!"

                                            "But they kicked you out?"

                                            >And after all the hassle you went through to find one that would take a free pony, one that had an empty bed that -

                                            >"No, they didn't!" she says, shaking her head so vigorously that her honey mane forms a halo about her head for a second.

                                            "Then why are you back here, S'more? The only ponies around are -"

                                            >You hesitate to call them what they are.

                                            >*Whores*.

                                            >Most slaves. Some free. And most of those - like her - homeless. Jobless. Destitute.

                                            >None as young, though.

                                            >You can't bring yourself to say the word to a child. Not now that you've seen her in the light. Not know that you know who she is.

                                            >"Then why are you here?" she asks softly.

                                            "You know why. The only ponies here are - are selling their bodies, S'more. I thought we talked about this. You're too young to -"

                                            >"I didn't know where else to find you," she blurts out.


                                            "So..."

                                            >You have to stretch for something to talk about.

                                            >It's not like you two have anything in common.

                                            >You don't know why she likes to spend time with you.

                                            >This is the third time - the third week - you've met at this coffee shop since you found her again in the red light district - or since she found you.

                                            >It's a nice place. Cheap sandwiches. Vegetarian options. That was essential.

                                            >If she wants you to spend your afternoon looking in on her, you might as well make sure she's not starving.

                                            >And they don't seem to mind a pony - so long as she stays on the patio.

                                            >And she cleaned up nicely, thanks to the shelter.

                                            >Filled out a bit, too.

                                            >You can't see her ribs anymore.

                                            >But... after a while, there's just not much to say.

                                            >Homeless ponies don't exactly have hobbies or keep up with sports.

                                            >You always suspected - or would have, had it ever crossed your mind - but she confirmed it last time.

                                            "... um... when do you get your... uh..."

                                            >Shit, what do they call them?

                                            >Oh, right.

                                            "... your cutie mark?"

                                            >You hope that's right.

                                            >But probably not, because she looks sad now.

                                            >Sad and a little angry.

                                            "Nevermind, I'm sorry, I -"

                                            >"I won't," she murmurs. "I'm a free pony. They're too expensive. Even if someone would give me the money, I wouldn't waste it on a tattoo."

                                            "Tattoo? I thought it was..."

                                            >You wave your hand.

                                            >It's about as good as stammering about some more.

                                            >"Magic?"

                                            "Yeah."

                                            >"Grandma said it was, but she was born in... in..."

                                            "Equestria?"

                                            >S'more nods.

                                            >"I think that was just a fairy tale."

                                            "The cutie marks, or -"

                                            >"Both," S'more sighs. "And before you ask, I don't believe in Santa Claus either."


                                            >"Hey!"

                                            >Her again, waving like an absolute lunatic from the end of your driveway.

                                            "I should never have told you where I live."

                                            >This makes... the third time she's come by?

                                            >"I got a job!" she shouts cheerfully, disregarding your groan.

                                            >Well, maybe it's okay this time.

                                            "That's -"

                                            >You were going to say great, but she's still -

                                            >You *were* going to think that she's just a kid, but there's an adolecent awkwardness to her now.

                                            >Or not so awkward. Her wings, while still on the large side, no longer look oversized for her body.

                                            >But nah.

                                            >Still a kid as far as you're concerned.

                                            "A job? Shouldn't you be in school?"

                                            >S'more shrugs - shoulders, wings, and all.

                                            >"Who would pay for it?"

                                            "Well..."

                                            >That's a good question.

                                            >Even with one of the public schools, she'd need pencils and paper and - and it'd still be expensive.

                                            >"Besides," S'more shrugs, "one of the other ponies at the shelter said she'd teach me some."

                                            "That's not the first time someone's said that."

                                            >"I know, but I think Julep really means it," she insists. "Everyone at this shelter is nice. Not like the last one."

                                            "Shit, don't even get me started on the last place. I'm glad you got out of there."

                                            >"So you've forgiven me for-"

                                            "For sleeping on the street?"

                                            >You... shrug.

                                            "All I'll say is I'm glad you only had to do that for one night. But what was wrong with the first shelter?"

                                            >S'more gives you a sheepish smile.

                                            >"They only let people stay three months, to get back on their feet."

                                            "Wait, weren't you there for -"

                                            >"Yeaaaah, they let me stay longer because I was an unaccompanied minor, but eventually..."

                                            >She shrugs.

                                            >"I was lucky. Most of the shelters have a thirty day limit."

                                            >She gives this little sigh that makes you wonder just how many times - how many *shelters* - she's been through, and never told you.

                                            >"It's fine," she says with a sad little smile. "This place has this really awesome work experience program, and I can stay as long as I'm employed there."

                                            "What'll you be doing?"

                                            >"I'm... not really sure," she smiles sheepishly. "I could really follow the explanation, but it sounded great."

                                            >Well, all good things, you suppose.

                                            >You nod.

                                            "How did you find out about it?"

                                            >"One of the ponies that works there told me about it!"

                                            "Maybe you can buy a phone so you don't have to come all the way across town to tell me these things?"

                                            >"But then I wouldn't have an excuse to come all the way across town to tell you things," she giggles.

                                            >What a silly pony.


                                            "What is it you do again?"

                                            >"Well, we're -"

                                            "It sounds like a scam."

                                            >S'more shakes her head.

                                            >"They're *paying* me."

                                            "Yeah, ten bucks a week. To recruit other homeless ponies for... what?"

                                            >"To come to the shelter," she insists. "They're paying to help others."

                                            >You shake your head.

                                            "It's a fucking scam. I don't care *how* easy it is or how good you feel about it. Something's wrong. Why can't you get a real job? Surely it won't be too hard, since your a -"

                                            >"I'm too young," she snaps back. "No one wants to hire a minor. Did you think I didn't try? I applied to that place you suggested, but -"

                                            "They wouldn't hire you? But they were specifically advertising for a delivery pegasus! And it's not like you're not *that* young now."

                                            >S'more shakes her heads.

                                            >"I'm not, but - but it's not *just* the money, remember?" she asks. "I know other jobs would pay more, but the shelter also give me food and a place to sleep. I've almost saved up -"

                                            "But you missed our meeting last week."

                                            >She looks away.

                                            >"Give me a break. I had to work late. Some of the other ponies were promoted to -"

                                            "I don't like it. You've never missed a meeting. Not even when you had to catch the bus all the way from -"

                                            >"I know, I know! But I had to work."

                                            "Not even when I was sick and called the restaurant to tell you I couldn't come."

                                            >"Sorry, but I didn't have a -"

                                            "Remember? You came to my house and wouldn't leave until I came outside so you could see me."

                                            >"I had to work, okay!? I can - I can buy *your* lunch today, because -"

                                            "No, I'm still paying. Save up for a phone like you'd planned."

                                            >"That's what *you* wanted me to do."

                                            "Maybe it'll be easier for you to get a real job if these places can call you back. Anyway, all I'm saying is I don't like this place you're at now. I looked it up and they aren't even a registered shelter."

                                            >She looks up at you through her mane.

                                            >Someone's cut it for her - her bangs aren't ragged anymore.

                                            >Her giant, golden eyes sparkle with anger.

                                            >Towards you?

                                            >They're locked on you. Pupils tiny and focused.

                                            >For trying to look out for her?

                                            >"Look, I have to go. If I'm not back by 2:30, they'll kick me out."

                                            >She kicks back her chair and drops to the ground.

                                            >Doesn't even look your way.

                                            >Well, if she's not going to even say goodbye, then -

                                            >"You'll be here next week, right?"

                                            "Will you?"

                                            >Her wings quiver, half extend and the feathers fluffed out, as her head jerks about to glare at you with ears laid back.

                                            >"Do you think I'd miss it if I had a choice? Do you - do you have *any* idea why - why we've been meeting for *years*?"

                                            "Because you don't have anyone else to talk to?"

                                            >"Fuck you," she snarls. "If that's how you feel, then... then..."

                                            "Well, fine. If -"

                                            >"You -"

                                            >Her wings twitch again and she gives a little shake of her head.

                                            >"You *better* be here next week. Or - or I'll come to your house again!"


                                            >Your doorbell chimes again, and then twice more in rapid succession.

                                            "Jesus, shit, what the hell!?"

                                            >It's - it's too damn late, that's what it is.

                                            >Past midnight, because that's what the alarm clock said last time you looked at it.

                                            >After you couldn't worry about S'more anymore.

                                            >Now, to your sleep-blurred eyes, the alarm clock is nothing but a red smear.

                                            >You should have gone to sleep earlier.

                                            >What were you going to do? Get in your car and drive around hoping you found her?

                                            >So she missed today's meet up.

                                            >It's not the first time.

                                            >You kick off the sheets and -

                                            >- and the doorbell goes off again.

                                            >Shit.

                                            >This is going to go on all night unless you stop it.

                                            >- and reach under the bed.

                                            >There's a baseball bat down there somewhere; with only a little fumbling your fingers close around it.

                                            >The other hand reaches for your phone.

                                            >This isn't a bad neighborhood, but you aren't an idiot.

                                            >Of *course* you grab the phone.

                                            >The bat is just to make you feel like a badass.

                                            >You've already got emergency services dialed and ready to call when you reach your door.

                                            >The bell is ringing nonstop the whole time.

                                            >With luck, it's some dumb kid thinking he's -

                                            >You can't see anyone through the peephole.

                                            >The bell goes off again.

                                            >Fucking kids.

                                            >You set the phone down on a nearby ledge and -


                                            "What happened this time?"

                                            >"They tried to -" S'more sobs into your chest, "they tried to make me go with them. Somewhere. Told me I had to get in the van and then -"

                                            "I told you I didn't trust -"

                                            >"You were right, okay!" she screams. "I saw what was in there. They already had a collar on Julep and -"


                                            >"I - I don't know where to go tonight."


                                            >If this was a fairytale, you'd wake up to the smell of cooking bacon and eggs.

                                            >Pancakes, at the very least.

                                            >Instead, you're the one doing the cooking.

                                            >Or would be, if you weren't worried it would wake S'more.

                                            >You take another look at her, sleeping on your sofa.

                                            >If this was a fairytale, her blanket would have fallen to the floor, kicked away in some nightmare inspired fit and you'd tuck her back in.

                                            >It's still wrapped around her.

                                            >Once she was able to get to sleep - and that did not come easily - she slept like the dead.

                                            >Didn't so much as twitch during your phone call with the police.

                                            >Still, you decide against breakfast, on the off chance that the noise would wake S'more.

                                            >This is probably the most peaceful you've ever seen her.

                                            >And so you let her sleep.

                                            >At least until the police show up to take a statement.


                                            >They never do.

                                            >This shouldn't surprise you.

                                            >They're *just ponies* - and free ones at that.

                                            >Poor bastards basically have fewer rights than the ones kept as slaves, and you can buy one of those from any pet store.

                                            >People tend to care about their property, after all.

                                            >You hope that's where they were being taken.

                                            >At least then...

                                            >It's been two days.

                                            >S'more is still crashing on your couch.

                                            >She doesn't feel safe going outside.

                                            >You aren't particularly happy about the idea either, though you have no idea how you're going to explain things when your roommate comes back from his trip.

                                            >She can't live on the sofa forever, and you sure as hell aren't sharing your bed with her.

                                            >And so help you, if Steve so much as *tries* -

                                            >Whatever, it's your house. He just lives here and pays rent.


                                            >"Sweet, you broke down and finally bought a pony?"

                                            "No, she's -"

                                            >"And a pegasus, too!? Fuck yeah!"

                                            >He leans over and wiggles his eyebrows in what he thinks is a suggestive manner.

                                            >"So, you broke her in yet?"

                                            "Jesus, Steve, she's still a kid!"

                                            >"Seriously? She looks..."

                                            >He wiggles his hand and then shrugs.

                                            >"Well, ponies don't really count, right?"

                                            "They sure as fuck do, Steve."

                                            >"Okay dude, okay, I'm just messing with you! But seriously, what the hell happened?"


                                            >"That's fucked up, man."


                                            >"Wait, you've had this pony stalker for *how* long and I never noticed?"


                                            >"Dude, is she ever going to move out? I'd like to have friends over without having to explain you're letting a hobopony live here. For free, at that. I think I've been pretty reasonable about this whole thing, but it's been -"


                                            >"Hey."

                                            "Hey, S'more. Any luck?"

                                            >She hesitantly nods.

                                            >"They said they'd call tomorrow."

                                            "Think you got the job?"

                                            >"I hope so," she sighs. "I know you and Steve want me out of here."

                                            "It's not like that."

                                            >"It's okay," she sighs again. "I understand. I know I've been bothering you for years."

                                            "What? Where's this -

                                            >"I should be happy you put up with my shit for this long."

                                            >You put down the groceries and - and...

                                            "Guess you heard Steve talking?"

                                            >She nods.

                                            "Why didn't you say anything? He brought it up... what? Two weeks ago?"

                                            >"Because what good would it do? I'm *trying* to get a job! I'll get out of your life as soon as I can get -"


                                            "Sit."

                                            >"Dude, what's this about?"

                                            "You've got to apologize to her, Steve."

                                            >He looks at you over his soda and raises an eyebrow.

                                            >"For what? Awwww shit, was this hers?"

                                            >He shakes the can.

                                            >"Sorry, man. I didn't know. I'll pick up another 12 pack tomorrow after -"

                                            "That's not it. Remember that conversation we had a couple weeks back?"

                                            >"Which one?"

                                            "The one about S'more moving out."

                                            >Steve gives you a hurt look before moving over to the table.

                                            >He waits for you to sit down opposite him before saying anything else.

                                            >"All I asked was when," he says calmly. "And I've only brought it up *once*. Seemed like a fair thing to mention to my landlord."

                                            "She overheard and now she thinks she's not welcome here."

                                            >"What? Nah."

                                            >He shakes his head.

                                            >"Seriously?"

                                            "Yeah. I thought you two were friends."

                                            >"I did too. Shit, I don't mind her being here, dude. I just don't think it's fair that I basically lost all access to the living room to your girlfriend and she's not even paying rent."

                                            "She's not my girlfriend."

                                            >"I guess not, or you two'd be sharing a bedroom and I'd still be able to kick back at 2 AM and play some games on the big screen."

                                            "What's stopping you from doing that now?"

                                            >"Where'd she sleep if I was doing that? She's out during the day looking for a job, so she needs her rest."

                                            "She could... uh..."

                                            >"What? Stay in my room until I'm ready to go to sleep? And then I kick her out? Even if I was okay with her crashing in my bed, and excuse me for wanting a little privacy there, that's not exactly a good solution for either of us. This whole setup isn't fair to her either. I hope you can see that."

                                            "What do you mean it isn't fair to her? I'm giving her a place to sleep where she feels safe and -"

                                            >"You could do better, dude."

                                            "Like what, kick you out and let her have your room?"

                                            >"If that's what you've got to do, then that's what you've got to do. It's better than keeping her sleeping on the sofa without a place of her own. You know, I *am* her friend. Probably more than you are.

                                            >"I mean, you're doing a lot for her - letting her stay here, hanging with her all the fucking time before, crap like that... but I bet you didn't even know that all of her things are still in the coat closet up front, did you?"

                                            "Huh?"

                                            >"Well," Steve mumbles and shrugs, "all the stuff she escaped that fake ass shelter with, and whatever crap you bought her since then - and y'know that stuff is starting to pile up, but she doesn't have anyplace else to put them."

                                            "Huh."

                                            >"She's not your pet, dude. She's a free pony. You can't keep her sleeping on the sofa forever and think it's okay."

                                            "I'm not treating her like a pet, Steve. I just don't -"

                                            >"Maybe not, but you're not treating her like a real person either. You see a little, fuzzy critter and think that's good enough. Shit, I would put money on it that you'd be freaking out if that was an underage human girl sleeping out there.

                                            >"So if you're gonna kick me out, I'm fine with that. She deserves better. We can still be buddies. All I ask is you give me time to find a new place."

                                            "I'll... think about it. What you've said."

                                            >"And I'll apologize to your girlfriend."

                                            "She's not -"


                                            >There's no real good solution, but you do your best.

                                            >He had a point.

                                            >You hadn't really noticed until he'd brought it up, but S'more's presence has had an effect on your life.

                                            >When was the last time you had some friends over?

                                            >Not since that night.

                                            >It wasn't exactly a deliberate choice. Just... every time you'd thought to, you'd decided against it.

                                            >You hadn't wanted to trouble her with them, to make her hide away or force her to join in.

                                            >And crashing on the sofa has had an effect on her life, too.

                                            >Even at the shelters, she had a place of her own - be it a room or just a bed.

                                            >Even on the streets, to a far lesser extent.

                                            >A nook or alley that people weren't trying to walk through every minute.

                                            >She wakes up when you go to work.

                                            >And again when Steve does.

                                            >No matter how quiet the two of you try to be, there's no helping it.

                                            >After everything that's happened in her life, you can't blame her for being a light sleeper.

                                            >Or take exception at the fierce glare she flashes you each time.

                                            >She apologizes afterwards, after all. Every time.

                                            >Poor mare hasn't had a good night's sleep since that first night when she was too worn out from panic and fear to stir.

                                            >"You sure want to do this, buddy?"

                                            "Yeah. You were right, Steve. It's either this or I kick you out."

                                            >"OH, HEY!" Steve shouts and stiffly grabs a hammer. "I'M SO EXCITED. LET'S STOP FUCKIN' ABOUT AND GET STARTED!"


                                            "I don't want you to move out."

                                            >S'more snorts.

                                            >She raises her head from the sofa's arm enough to glare your direction without actually looking at you.

                                            >"You don't have to lie to make me feel better. I'll find a job soon."

                                            >Golden eyes dart towards yours for a moment before she sighs.

                                            >"You've been nicer to me than anyone else ever has. If being around means making you miserable, I'd rather leave."

                                            >You shake your head, not that she sees.

                                            "Really, S'more. I mean it."

                                            >"Someone offered me one yesterday, but I turned him down. I could... go back. Probably should."

                                            "Oh!? Doing... what?"

                                            >"I'd get to keep half of everything I make," S'more says softly. "And pegasi usually earn around $1000 a month."

                                            >You shake your head.

                                            "That doesn't sound right. Doing what?"

                                            >"What you thought you could get for ten dollars," she snorts. "I can't believe - I can't believe you thought you could get away with paying me that little!"

                                            "I - I thought it was my lucky day! And I didn't do *anything* except feed you and get you into a shelter!"

                                            >S'more's eyes drop. Then she gives a slight nod.

                                            >"Thank you."

                                            "I haven't done *anything* to you, S'more, except try to help you. I think it's pretty obvious I care about you!"

                                            >"Y-you do?"

                                            "Of course I do! Why do you think I've been helping you out? And didn't you wonder what Steve and I are working on?"

                                            >She shrugs.

                                            >"I've learned not to listen in on you two."

                                            "Look, we're remodeling the garage to turn it into another bedroom. I don't mind parking in the drive and it'll give you a place of your own."

                                            >"What about the rest of it?"

                                            "Rest of what?"

                                            >"Paying rent," she snarls. "Except for -"

                                            "No."

                                            >You can guess where she's going.

                                            "I don't want you to talk to that man again."

                                            >"I'm a free pony," she says in a faintly bewildered tone. "You can't stop me."

                                            "But I don't have to let you live hear. If you start doing that... you - you wouldn't be the S'more that I care about."

                                            >A hesitant smile flitters across her face for a moment.

                                            >For just one moment.

                                            >"No one else will hire me," S'more mumbles. "What else can I do?"

                                            "You can... well, we kinda figured you could..."

                                            >Shit, this sounds embarrassing just to say.

                                            "... work it off."

                                            >"You mean... you're finally taking me up on that?"

                                            "Up on -"

                                            >"Why would I - just for room and board - when that other man offered me -"

                                            "What!? No! No, *hell* no! I'd never - not like *this*."

                                            >"So you only sleep with ponies you don't have to look at again."

                                            "You're a *child*!"

                                            >"I'm not that young."

                                            "You're not damn well old enough, either! That's - forget that. What I'm saying is I don't want you to feel like you owe me anything, so if you take care of some chores around here we'll call it even, okay?"

                                            >"What about Steve?"

                                            "They're his chores. He's happy with this plan, if you're willing to do it. And when you get a job, we can revisit the arrangement, okay? If you'd rather pay rent than scrub the toilet, then that's fine."

                                            >"Or I can move out."

                                            "I... won't stop you. If that's what you want, I won't stop you. I've got no right to, but I will worry about you. You're almost like a daughter to me."

                                            >She looks away suddenly.


                                            >"I have good news!"

                                            "Let me guess -"

                                            >She doesn't even give you a chance before barreling into your chest and wrapping her forelegs around you in a tight hug.

                                            >"They'll pay me four dollars an hour!"

                                            "Yes, you got a - wait, *four*?"

                                            >S'more nods eagerly.

                                            "I know ponies usually get paid less, but that's insulting. You should say no."

                                            >"I can't! It's the first real offer I've gotten!"

                                            "Yeah, but *four*?"

                                            >"It's under the table -"

                                            "So what's to stop them from not paying when -"

                                            >"- but anyway the regular delivery ponies are mostly paid in tips, so -"

                                            "Okay, but I'm not happy about -

                                            >"Anyway, it's only for a few months!"

                                            "What happens then?"

                                            >"My birthday's on July 23rd. I'll finally be an adult and they can bring me on as a *real* employee."


                                            "I know it's not much, but..."

                                            >S'more looks up from her present and smiles.

                                            "You hate it."

                                            >"No, it's great."

                                            "Damn, I really thought you'd like it. I've known you for - for nearly half your life, and still -"

                                            >"I said it's great."

                                            "And I said I've known you long enough to know when something's wrong."

                                            >S'more's head twitches in a tiny nod.

                                            >She opens her mouth a few times, false starts that amount to nothing.

                                            "I'll... I'll take it back. We've still got some time before the party. I -"

                                            >"So..." she finally gets a word out, "I guess I can move out soon."

                                            >She puts the gift to the side and sighs loudly.

                                            "Do you really want to?"

                                            >"No, but..."

                                            >She bites her lower lip.

                                            "Do you really hate your room that much?"

                                            >She shakes her head.

                                            >"I haven't complained about it once, have I?"

                                            "Lately you haven't complained at all, even when you should. Ever since..."

                                            >Since when?

                                            "Ever since I told you we were remodeling the garage, I guess?

                                            "I know there's something you're unhappy about, which is strange. Now, I know it's been a while, but... you've never had a problem telling me what you wanted before."

                                            >The mare snorts and rolls her eyes.

                                            >"Oh, really?"

                                            "Yeah. In all the time I've known you... I guess, I just thought maybe you were worried you were asking for too much?

                                            "I don't know.

                                            "It was... I didn't want to push it."

                                            >You shrug.

                                            "But it's your birthday. Go ahead. Tell me what you *really* want."


                                            "Really?"


                                            "Are you telling me - and I can't believe these words are coming out of my mouth - that Steve wasn't *entirely* full of shit?"


                                            >"Yes!"


                                            "Try some of this cake. It's pretty good."

                                            >"Oh?"

                                            >S'more opens her mouth for you.

                                            >Well, okay.

                                            "It's good, isn't it?"

                                            >She chews it slowly and shrugs.

                                            >"This is... what? The fourth cake you've had me try?"

                                            "I want to get the right cake for you."

                                            >"Well, *I* think you just like watching me eat."

                                            >Bedroom eyes should not accompany a statement like that.

                                            "Why would you even *say* that?"

                                            >"Remember that night we first met?"

                                            "Well -"

                                            >"You paid me ten dollars to eat a couple of veggie burgers. And you kept buying me lunch, week after week."

                                            "Well, I mean... it's been... what?"

                                            >S'more giggles.

                                            >"I know it's been a long time, but do you remember?"


                                            "I do."


                                            "So... what did your grandmother tell you about Equestrian traditions?"

                                            >"Not much," S'more says with a sad smile. "Anyway, if we're going to follow some fairy tale, I'd rather make up one of our own."

                                            "Oh?"

                                            >"Exactly. Let's go home."

                                            "Right now? But the party -"

                                            >You look around, at the friends and family drinking and eating and laughing.

                                            >Steve raises his glass to you when he sees you looking his way - the only one who even notices.

                                            >He points to the cake on his plate and mouths something you don't quite hear - but you can imagine.

                                            >It's a damn good cake.

                                            "You're right. Fuck the reception. They don't really need us here."

                                            >"Not really," S'more laughs. "I think we've done our part already."

                                            "Was there anything I was supposed to do after I kissed you?"

                                            >"Of course."

                                            "What?"

                                            >Your girlfriend - no, you *wife* rolls her eyes and laughs.

                                            >"We have to go home first," she whispers. "I don't really want an audience for my wedding night."

                                            >You reach over and brush aside a strand of her mane that had come loose. Probably when you two were dancing.

                                            "I can't believe how lucky I am. Let's go."


                                            And that's the end of S'more's story.

                                            There was originally supposed to be smut - actually, that's all there was supposed to be originally, until I decided nope that's creepy. Last time we saw S'more, she was just a child, and therefore there needed to be lead up to it - but truth is I hate writing smut.

                                            I can only do it if it's as uncomfortable for the audience to read as it is for me to write, and this isn't the story for that. You get a plain love story instead.


                                            Anyway, I was shooting for quick scene changes to cover the 10 or 11 years since they first met, some of which are single lines - or single words - to imply a whole scene.

                                            My personal favorites are S'more saying "Yes!" in response to Anon proposing and his "I do" during the wedding. I hope those were as clever as I thought they were at the time.

                                            At other times, I tried to do it to mislead - but in a way that (hopefully) made sense when you get to the end. With any luck at least one of you thought that they were talking about birthday cake for a moment, at least until the "bedroom eyes" bit pops up.

                                            So, anyway, here we are.

                                            Goodnight, folks.


                                            Cut scene #1: S'more playfully accuses Anon of having a feeding fetish, since every time they meet he feeds her.

                                            It's worked in with the cake bit, but not to the extent I originally planned.

                                            Cut scene #2: >"Hey, dude, fuck off," Steve barges in. Physically. Between you and the protesters. "You religious fucks *knew* this was going to happen when gays got the right to marry, so don't act so surprised."

                                            I really wish I could have worked that into the wedding piece without ruining the flow, but oh well. We can't always include every singe line that we like.