New Year's Kiss


                                            Hey, Anon? Stick close to me at Rarity's party tonight. I'd rather kiss you at midnight than some doofus l barely know.


                                            Thanks, you're such a great friend


                                            >The boutique doors are thrown wide open

                                            >Most of the town square is set up for the party

                                            >Alleys are corded off, stands are set up

                                            >Time Turner spent all last week setting up the giant clock

                                            >It's illuminated hands inch closer and closer to twelve in the final hour of the year

                                            >Despite being a 'formal' as insisted up by all of Rarity's planning and word of mouth this is still a very raucous herd of horses

                                            >Empowered by anonymity they laugh and drink behind their ballroom masks, drinking in the cool night air and dancing with their friends

                                            >Nearly all of Ponyville and the outlying hamlets are stuffed into the square

                                            >As you approach the clock there are so many bodies swirling around the fountain it seems like a flowing river

                                            >Pegasus ponies line the surrounding roofs, reclining and catcalling pretty mares down below

                                            >You don't fault them

                                            >One very, very pretty mare has your eye too

                                            >Her golden mask does nothing to mask her identity

                                            >Apart from recycling her gala dress her mane and tail are dead giveaways

                                            >And to you, even a glimpse of her eyes would be unmistakable

                                            >She rears up slightly, looking above the bodies for you

                                            >Scanning the crowd she misses you, you watch her stumble a bit and fall back to all fours

                                            >You know she's been drinking

                                            >Maybe you have been too

                                            >A loud gong startles you

                                            >You nearly die of a heart attack

                                            >Did you miss it?

                                            >No

                                            >Just a pegasus bucking the bell

                                            >It's 11:55

                                            >You've got to get to her

                                            >Leaning forward you have to push through the crowd packing in toward the clock

                                            >Keeping your eyes on Dash like a lifeline you lose sight for glimpses at a time as you fight the sideways current of the crowd

                                            >Stallions are pressing in on Dash

                                            >Thunderlane and Snowflake, two bros

                                            >Both flanking her

                                            >Both flushing in their faces, just a little tipsy

                                            >This is exactly what Dash asked you to save her from

                                            >And you're letting her down

                                            >She's looking for you

                                            >'Where are you?' she must think

                                            >'He promised'

                                            >Well, you're right here

                                            >And you're coming


                                            >The boys see you coming

                                            >Snowflake moves to block you

                                            >Thunderlane really turns up the charm

                                            >His mask is slipping, you swear you can smell the horse-champagne on his breath

                                            >It hardly matters though

                                            >Dash saw you, and that's all that matters

                                            >She perks up, no longer on the defensive

                                            >With a leap and a drunken flap she steps onto Snowflake's back, and hops back down before you

                                            >Your hand brushes along her flank from shoulder to shoulder as she circles your legs, leaning on you hard in her tipsiness

                                            >The expression on her face is relief

                                            >Yours, smug

                                            >Theirs, upset

                                            >Sorry bros, the game isn't easy

                                            >They have no time to argue, midnight is within a precious minute

                                            >Breaking away from eachother they hunt for single mares like wolves with their final moment

                                            >And with Dash by your side, that moment is gone in a flash

                                            >A cool breeze blows hard, winter air doing it's best to fight the heat of hundreds of drunken bodies packed in tight

                                            >The noise of the crowd grows louder and louder, they begin to chant mostly in unison

                                            >"Five!"

                                            >Couples turn to one another, hooves and forelimbs tight around loved ones

                                            >"Four!"

                                            >Many in the crowd miss that number, taking early drafts of their drinks

                                            >"Three!"

                                            >Dash rears up to meat you halfway, you stoop to steady her wobbling stance

                                            >"Two!"

                                            >All eyes are on Turner's massive clock, it's festive glowing hand an inch from midnight

                                            >"One!"

                                            >Glasses are held high, Dash fumbles her mask off early and carelessly into the mud without care

                                            >A gear turns, striking the town bell like a gong

                                            >"Happy new year!"

                                            >Staff and lonely bachelors on the rooftops set off confetti guns and fireworks

                                            >Hundreds of balloons are cut free to take to the wind

                                            >Brass instruments flare up into festive music

                                            >You don't notice a single thing

                                            >Other than the slight tart residue of wine on her lip

                                            >Just a quick peck, right on your bottom lip, nothing more

                                            >But a whisper

                                            >"Thanks for the save Anon. I'm just still not ready to come out yet."


                                            >The party officially ends at 1:00AM

                                            >Most drink as much as possible in the meantime

                                            >Emptying the kegs and barrels is a time honored earth pony tradition

                                            >None here wish to disappoint

                                            >The merry laughter and kissing of couples leaving together slowly drains the square

                                            >A few gruff stallions clean up as a few pegasus hangers on take to the sky in a wobbling, uneven manner

                                            >Applejack had set aside a barrel of cider for her Dash to drink her fill of once she realized what a big deal it was to her

                                            >Dash might not have realized that it was an offer, not a dare

                                            >She spent most of the hour literally laying with her back against the barrel, making small talk as she filled cup after cup

                                            >You kept her company as her 'date', she even let you drink a few tankards of 'her' cider

                                            >She was flushed redder than an apple by the time one of the janitor ponies took to poking her with a broom

                                            >Solemnly insisting that she wasn't drunk she stumbled in the opposite direction from her cloud home before fruitlessly flapping her wings

                                            >Without rhyme or reason she manages to get a few feet off the ground before diving hard to the left or right

                                            >Too drunk to feel her bruises she whines as you hold her down to keep from taking off again

                                            >"Fffffffffine" she hisses at you

                                            >"Where do you live again?"

                                            >Your heart skips a beat

                                            >She's never actually stayed at your house before

                                            >A few visits, crashing for some food, talking about things and problems that she didn't want to take to the other girls

                                            >But never to actually spent the night

                                            >Your mind races as you scoop her up to her mild protest and begin carrying her

                                            >The couch would probably do, you have some spare sheets

                                            >Or hell, she was drunk enough to just throw in bed with you

                                            >Dash seemed pretty cool

                                            >If 'cool' was the right word

                                            >Sometimes you seemed like a piece of furniture to her

                                            >Her 'best friend'

                                            >Perhaps it was the buzz of the alcohol, or the smell of her breath on your shoulder

                                            >But right now

                                            >You wanted so much more


                                            >Your home isn't far off

                                            >Then again half a mile feels like a million when you're carrying over a hundred pound in your arms

                                            >You switch her to piggyback, she barely manages to stay on

                                            >She's mumbling into your ear inbetween great big yawns, talking about what a great friend you are

                                            >How there aren't any other colts like you

                                            >How there are hardly any mares like you either

                                            >Your silence does not put her off at all

                                            >Feeling her warmth on your back, her body on yours, it stirs up strange emotions

                                            >Of course you liked her

                                            >How couldn't you?

                                            >You felt jealous when she wasn't even yours

                                            >You did everything for her with nothing, or even the hope of anything in return

                                            >Best friends, and nothing more

                                            >That would never change, not unless you did something about it

                                            >One chaste kiss a year was not enough, not even close

                                            >Tonight, tonight things were going to change

                                            >As though Dash can read your thoughts she suddenly grows stiff as soon as your front door is in sight

                                            >"Let me down!"

                                            >You drop her, frightened, she hits her butt hard

                                            >Scampering to her feet she gets about three paces away from your house

                                            >The gushing of water in your bushes drowns out her sigh of relief

                                            >You laugh, relieved in your own way

                                            >No sense or intuition was cluing her off to any danger

                                            >Not like you could go through with it anyway

                                            >Your door is unlocked, you press it open and beckon her in

                                            >She slides along the railing, you guide her to the couch she'll be sleeping on

                                            >In a burst of a strange emotion you push her side hard, tipping her on the couch

                                            >Dash laughs, drunkenly waggling her legs in the air

                                            >You turn to get her some sheets from your closet, she stops you with a word

                                            >"Hey?"

                                            >Your stomach grinds

                                            >"Anon?"

                                            >Barely able to mouth out "What?" your voice is weak

                                            >"Could you get me something to drink?"

                                            >It grows quite for a second

                                            >You exhale

                                            >Why is the deflating sensation so painful?

                                            >You answer "Of course", and lightly toss the folded square of linen at her


                                            >You grab a tall glass from the cabinet

                                            >From the icebox you waffle between orange juice and iced tea

                                            >Dash likes orange juice better

                                            >You know that about her

                                            >You know so much about her

                                            >There's that weird gripping sensation in your chest

                                            >You need another drink

                                            >Pulling out both the tea and the juice you set them on the counter

                                            >Fetching a second glass, and a bottle from another cabinet

                                            >You pour yourself a glass of tea, you pour her juice

                                            >Unscrewing the cap to the vodka you top off your glass

                                            >You set it back on the counter, still uncapped

                                            >Peeking at Dash around the corner, you steel yourself and take a long gulp of your very hard drink

                                            >Whether conscience or intoxication your arms seem heavy and leaden

                                            >You take the vodka and top off her drink too

                                            >She looks so close to being blackout drunk

                                            >Not that you'd do anything

                                            >This is just another funny prank

                                            >Right?

                                            >You carry out the glasses, bringing hers to the coffee table by her head

                                            >She's barely managed to use the sheet, it's still half folded and her leg is exposed

                                            >Apparently it was too hard, she gave up halfway

                                            >Rubbing her chest to rouse her you old her glass in front of her face

                                            >Dash scoots up a little, kicking the pillows from the couch inadvertently

                                            >"Thanks, man. You're such a good friend."

                                            >It's like a nail in your chest every time

                                            >Your lips are tightly pursed as she raises the glass to hers

                                            >She nearly misses

                                            >Your heart is racing

                                            >Deep gulp after deep gulp drains the glass in record time

                                            >She really was thirsty after all

                                            >Tongue too numb to alcohol to taste it at all

                                            >You take it from her before she drops it

                                            >Draining your own glass on the way back to the kitchen you feel light headed yourself

                                            >You'd always heard about 'whiskey dick' from your friends who always had better luck with the girls

                                            >Funny, you weren't having that problem at all right now


                                            >After setting the glasses in the sink you return to the crime scene

                                            >It's just starting to hit Dash now

                                            >Her head lolls back over the arm of the couch

                                            >She starts to snore almost immediately

                                            >You fight with yourself, torn between going to bed and doing something you'll probably regret

                                            >With heavy feet you shuffle over to her sleeping form

                                            >Slowly you grab her sheet

                                            >Trying to play it off like covering her up you peel it back off her body

                                            >You actually do properly unfold it for her, but she doesn't wake up

                                            >It flutters to the floor, you've barely realized you dropped it

                                            >Hand on the back of the couch you ease yourself onto it as slowly as possible

                                            >A knee sinks into the cushion between her legs, you move about a millimeter per second

                                            >Dash keeps snoring

                                            >Every time she starts, every noise she makes keeps your hair standing on end

                                            >You touch her leg at the knee

                                            >Nothing

                                            >You shake it gently

                                            >Still nothing

                                            >How far can your luck stretch?

                                            >Hand beneath her thigh you raise her leg up, propping it open

                                            >As you let go it sags to the side, exposing herself completely

                                            >Dash snorts

                                            >The pain and tension running through your body as you jolt is like a heart attack

                                            >But Dash keeps snoring, and you barely manage to relax

                                            >You start to feel emboldened

                                            >You remind yourself that you deserve this, just a glimpse, just a touch

                                            >With your hand you rub along the inside of her thigh, inching toward her waist

                                            >She is completely exposed

                                            >You've taken peeks, sure

                                            >Here and there, a flick of the tail, a glimpse as she flutters around

                                            >Always out of the corner of your eye, always a stolen secret

                                            >Never like this

                                            >Splayed wide open, nothing to hide

                                            >You hand is nearly trembling, your fingers have nearly run out of leg to trace themselves along

                                            >Dash's leg tremors

                                            >It slips off the couch, hoof hitting the floor with a loud clop

                                            >You hand hovers mid air, waiting for any sign of her waking

                                            >Ready to get up and play it all off


                                            >Nothing happens

                                            >One more deep breath, and she shudders out another snore

                                            >You release the breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding

                                            >Teeth grit, heart about to explode, you lower your hand

                                            >And you finally touch it

                                            >Just a light palming, almost childishly

                                            >After three years here, you finally touch it

                                            >Despite the swelling crescendo you imagined, despite longing for it and dreaming about it now that it's finally happening it seems so surreal

                                            >It's so soft, so impossibly soft

                                            >And warm, so much wet heat radiating from it

                                            >You glance to her face, looking at the bottom of her muzzle

                                            >She's still blacked out

                                            >Testing your luck, you push slightly

                                            >She shifts a quarter inch

                                            >You let go, she slides back

                                            >She's dead to the world

                                            >Heat rises in your cheeks as you imagine how far you might go

                                            >Just a touch, what's a touch between friends?

                                            >That's all

                                            >You keep playing with her, genuinely playing, not even sexually

                                            >Tracing a fingertip around her labia, parting the inner and outer lips, tapping her clit gently for fear of waking her

                                            >Emboldened, fingertip damp from exploration, you poke at it gently, worming your way inside

                                            >Such a crushing, warm, wet heat envelopes your finger

                                            >She seems so soft and pliable inside your finger feels rough in comparison

                                            >Her snoring has stopped

                                            >You snap to attention, hand still inside her

                                            >Her head has turned to the side, her mouth is closed

                                            >Still taking slow, deep breaths

                                            >That should have scared you off

                                            >You should have quit right there and went to bed

                                            >Alcohol and lust thought otherwise

                                            >Rather, you sucked on a second finger and pressed it to her cunt


                                            >A soft, wet little 'squick' and they pop in

                                            >Perhaps you're becoming too comfortable

                                            >Too hasty

                                            >You gently press them in to the knuckle

                                            >This feels so much tighter than just the one

                                            >You're biting your lip thinking about how great it would feel

                                            >Actually going all out and raping her

                                            >You'd never do that of course

                                            >No, no way

                                            >You pull your fingers out to the tip

                                            >Hesitate, and press them back in

                                            >They're very slick now, much more than the first stroke

                                            >They slide in and out without hardly any friction

                                            >Just Dash's crushing warmth kissing your fingers as they slowly and steadily tease her

                                            >You wonder if she's dreaming

                                            >As far as you could remember you never dreamed when you were drunk

                                            >But her mind clearly had to be thinking of something

                                            >Based on her body's reaction

                                            >She grew wetter and wetter, to the point where every fingerstroke nearly gushed at the knuckle

                                            >You can start to smell it

                                            >After all, your face has come nearly close enough to kiss it

                                            >It is absolutely intoxicating

                                            >To say it was 'sweet' or 'heavenly' would have missed the mark

                                            >It was very strong and musky

                                            >It would have turned you away from anyone but her

                                            >But you knew it was hers

                                            >It was Dash's scent

                                            >And it excited you so dearly

                                            >Some hidden pheromone, or simply the magic of a shameful lust

                                            >The cause hardly mattered

                                            >The effect was impossible to ignore

                                            >You had to adjust yourself, you'd become too uncomfortable aroused

                                            >It almost hurts

                                            >You can't even stand up straight on your knees without loosening your pants

                                            >Fumbling with the button and zipper with your slick hand is harder than you would have thought

                                            >Still trembling as well, fear and anxiety of being caught combined with excitement and lust

                                            >You felt like you could nearly explode

                                            >Like you wanted to just bounce off the walls and shout

                                            >You finally get your pants undone

                                            >Your shameful boner hangs there, unabashedly at it's full extent

                                            >It's too much to bear, you'll have to take care of this immediately


                                            >When you grasp it for the first stroke your fingers slip

                                            >They're still wet, still slick

                                            >As the heat fades away from her essence on the underside of your cock a cool chill only fans your flames further

                                            >That's Dash's, that's a bit of Dash

                                            >On you

                                            >On it

                                            >Smeared all over you, you have her essences smeared over your tool

                                            >The though echoes in your head, the desire to go further and further drives you on

                                            >You twitch, already at full strength, you poor little friend about to explode from the pressure

                                            >It aches, it aches so bad, and there's only one release in sight

                                            >You give yourself a few strokes, her wetness not quite enough to properly go at it

                                            >Torn between the right thing to do and most certainly the wrong thing to do, you want to get up

                                            >You really do, you want to go, to go to bed and be a good boy and be a good friend

                                            >But you can't

                                            >You're a victim as much as she is, really

                                            >Leaning forward you brace yourself with a hand right by her sleeping head

                                            >Looming over her you let yourself down slowly

                                            >'Just the tip', you think to yourself

                                            >No way that would wake her, not after the finger test

                                            >'Just the tip', and nothing more

                                            >That's fair

                                            >That's all right

                                            >Your thigh brushes against hers, it lies there dead

                                            >With a little shake and a shimmy you work your hips in between her legs

                                            >The angle is a little off, it's not lining up right

                                            >Your tip just brushes around fruitlessly, catching heat and moisture

                                            >The closer it gets the worse the ache becomes

                                            >With your guiding hand you pull her leg back up off the floor, tilting her hips higher

                                            >A bold action, but you aren't so worried about waking her anymore

                                            >You are still terrified in the back of your head

                                            >But you've gone too far already

                                            >You're already caught if she even opens an eye

                                            >So, since you're already caught, why not go all the way?

                                            >With her hips tilted higher your little spear finds it's way

                                            >You feel it making full contact, with a little twitch and a lean it's ready to just fall in

                                            >If you let go


                                            >A sigh, a shudder, a moan

                                            >A very unattractive noise is made when you do all three at once

                                            >You can feel the pained expression on your face

                                            >Not doing this, getting up and going, not taking what you want

                                            >This is worse than a dog with a treat on his nose

                                            >This is far beyond that

                                            >More like a starving wolf being teased with meat

                                            >This wasn't a want, this was a need

                                            >You need this

                                            >It's not really fair, but you need this

                                            >Dash would understand

                                            >You were her best friend

                                            >It's all right, just a little

                                            >Softly you lean forward, another half inch

                                            >Slowly, agonizingly slowly, your tip slides further in

                                            >Her lips catch a little on you, holding you back slightly

                                            >You hadn't any lube on your cock besides the bit of slime on the underside

                                            >Another quarter inch

                                            >You can feel the proper entrance, the tight little ring on the tip of your cock

                                            >Another eighth of an inch

                                            >The bits of labia catching on you are about to lose their 'grip' on your half dry cock

                                            >This feels so much tighter than on your fingers

                                            >You slide out your supporting hand, resting now on your elbow

                                            >Your hips are as high as you can keep them in this position

                                            >One little slip, and you'll fall right in

                                            >One little twitch, one little jab, just one thought

                                            >Breathing deeply, you imagine the first thrust ten times

                                            >Even when taking care of yourself all those long and lonely nights you never imagined it like this

                                            >How could you have?

                                            >The heat, the smell, the clarity, the lust, the awful and terrible urge that stole away all inhibition?

                                            >You sink deeper, just by a millimeter

                                            >Her 'grip' is slipping

                                            >Everything is so slick

                                            >All you have to do it let it happen

                                            >You didn't do anything, it's happening all by itself

                                            >Slowly sinking it, she kisses your head with a wet little 'pop'

                                            >God help you, you almost came right then


                                            >After that tight 'pop' gives way you sink in nearly an inch

                                            >An awful shudder trembles your leg, you nearly fall in entirely

                                            >It's like tight hot velvet glove, like a warm wet tongue kissing every bit of it at once

                                            >'Just the tip' is an impossible promise to keep

                                            >Going deeper is so easy, too easy

                                            >All you have to do is relax

                                            >She's so slick, you're so hard

                                            >Just relax, and it has nowhere to go but deeper

                                            >Everything is so smooth and wet there is no drag at all, warmth simply gobbles your cock up an inch at a time

                                            >Before you know it your hips are touching hers, your bodies united while your mind in in heaven and hers blacked out

                                            >Faces no more than inches apart you have no more fear of Dash waking at all

                                            >Her blood is fully loaded now, maybe even dangerously so

                                            >It hardly matters

                                            >You could worry about her in the morning

                                            >Courage takes your heart now, you likely couldn't wake her if you tried

                                            >Bravely you start grinding her, squishing together with loud squicks

                                            >Nothing at all

                                            >Your first proper strokes test the waters

                                            >Long and slow, savoring the sensation

                                            >Cool air kissing your wet cock on the upstroke, the hot wet heat swallowing it on the down

                                            >This is worth everything

                                            >Even if she never spoke to you again

                                            >You still got to have her, just once

                                            >And that's one more time than you ever would have otherwise

                                            >Your own hormones flood your body, mixing with the adrenaline

                                            >You almost grow angry at Dash

                                            >No long careful or exploratory your pace grows quicker and gains fervor

                                            >You're almost mad at Dash now

                                            >She knew what she was doing to you, she must have

                                            >Doesn't she deserve this?

                                            >Of course she does

                                            >Her limp body shudders under your assault

                                            >Head bobbing back and forth on the couch, limbs splayed and shaking with the motion

                                            >No, she wasn't waking up for anything

                                            >Not even being fucked hard enough to start scooting the couch away from the wall


                                            >You hold her head steady in the crook of your arm

                                            >Your other hand keeps her thigh high and her waist tilted just right

                                            >Putting your entire body into each thrust you don't even care about waking her up anymore

                                            >Hell, the neighbors will wake up first at this rate

                                            >You drop her thigh, brushing around in her coat near her waist

                                            >Near her crotch in the teeny little nub you were looking for

                                            >Tweaking it doesn't get a reaction

                                            >In fact, you almost want her to wake up

                                            >It might be the alcohol talking, but you want her to see

                                            >You want her to know you rutted her like a champ after she strung you on for so long

                                            >The thought is too much

                                            >Combined with your rough pace and the suspense of a lifetime you were flirting on the edge from the first stroke

                                            >Obviously you weren't concerned with her pleasure at all

                                            >Crossing the point of no return you feel the release of the impending climax

                                            >The last two strokes are swift and heavenly, you plant yourself deep against her cervix, stretching her hard with all your weight

                                            >As you orgasm you lose all strength in your limbs, you can only clutch her head to your shoulder as you shudder

                                            >Your cock bursts it's wet load inside her, thick spurt after spurt, likely the largest volume you've ever cum

                                            >The ecstasy is fleeting

                                            >Once the primal urges fade away there is nothing left but fear and doubt

                                            >You pull out

                                            >Painfully sensitive post orgasm your cock no longer appreciates her crushing tightness

                                            >You get up, panicking

                                            >She'll know

                                            >Then she's going to tell everyone

                                            >You're going to be run out of town

                                            >Breathing deeply you fail to calm yourself, your chest heaves as you struggle to not panic

                                            >Water, a glass of water, that's all you need to calm down

                                            >Pants up, unbuttoned for comfort you tiptoe back to the kitchen

                                            >While grabbing the tea cup to fill up with tap water you notice the creamy, bloody mess all over your cock and balls

                                            >"Ffffffffuck" you whisper as you bite your lip


                                            >Fuck water, you snag a clean towel instead

                                            >Hitting the hot water tap it takes ages for the water to warm up as you heart races

                                            >You wet the towel, wringing it out and racing back to Dash leaving the water running

                                            >Carefully and hastily you scrub at her thighs and cunt, trying to clean up and hide the sex

                                            >Cum gently oozes from her snatch as you keep wiping it up

                                            >She stirs slightly

                                            >Oh no, oh come on

                                            >You race back to the kitchen

                                            >Sticking your hands under the hot water to rinse the towel you scald them slightly in your haste

                                            >Cursing again you punch the tap shut and pitch the incriminating towel into the trash with a loud wet plop

                                            >Shoving your dirty dick back into your pants and fastening them you peek around the corner again

                                            >She's still there

                                            >Tiptoeing back to her side you grab the discarded sheet from the floor

                                            >Rolling her onto her side and scooting her head off the armrest onto a pillow gets no real rise out of her

                                            >Still panicking about the morning after your body works on autopilot, tucking her in tightly like a little burrito

                                            >Double checking she's breathing fine and halfway considering suffocating her you retreat to the bathroom

                                            >Dropping your dirty pants into the bin and pushing them deep into the laundry you move on to taking a hot, long shower

                                            >The hot water cannot last forever though, too soon your steamy escape chamber grows icy cold

                                            >Fifteen minutes of fright and worry have done nothing for your mood, with no excuse or plan come to mind

                                            >There was nothing you could do except run, right now

                                            >From the shower to your bedroom the conviction is absolute

                                            >But as soon as you sit on your bed to consider where to go a great and terrible weariness overwhelms you

                                            >At such an obscene hour, laden with alcohol and coming off a hot shower and a great nut, the exhaustion hits you like a truck

                                            >The cold pillow feels so good against your face


                                            >Waking up to shattering glass your eyes bolt open, only to be blinded by the sun coming in through the windows

                                            >The painful noise comes again, not glass, just water splashing in the veil of an awful hangover

                                            >Your bleary eyes squint into your bathroom, Dash is praying at the porcelain altar

                                            >As soon as you see her your heart misses a beat, anxiety heavy in your stomach

                                            >Her head turns as if she can sense you looking at her, her disheveled mane matted and pointing in every direction, small droplets of puke on some of the longer strands

                                            >Then, she forces a smile and whispers "G'morning"

                                            >Your bedside clock reads 12:30PM

                                            >A small sign that beings you relief, you half expected her to wake up and beat you to death

                                            >"Can you cook something?"

                                            >She meekly smiles again

                                            >You muster a very dry 'Yeah' as your desiccated mouth whistles the word

                                            >Breakfast is very terse

                                            >She says nothing

                                            >Did she realize anything?

                                            >No, she just feels like shit, right?

                                            >You slide her a plate of hay bacon and eggs

                                            >The greasy shits hits the spot just right

                                            >She sloppily eats with her hooves, drinking a pitchers worth of water

                                            >"I had a dream about you."

                                            >You drop your fork with a clatter

                                            >"We were Appleloosa, and we sold ice cream or something."

                                            >Your butt relaxes after having clenched hard enough to form diamonds

                                            >"I just remember how freakin' thirsty l was the whole dream, and l kinda woke up from there. Sorry l puked loud enough to wake you up."

                                            >You wave her concerns off

                                            >"Ugh, l still feel like shit though. Whole body aches, inside and out. I forgot how much hangovers suck. Scraped my kneed up too trying to fly home, look at this."

                                            >She shows you her road burned patches while you sweat profusely

                                            >"Anyway though, Anon. I uh, I just wanted to say, well, thanks. For everything. For helping me cover at the ball and making me breakfast and taking care of me. You're a really great friend Anon. It means a lot to me, loyalty and everything, you know?"

                                            >You nod

                                            >"I love you like a brother"