>Your morning begins the same way it always does
>Torn from a dreamless sleep by an ear shattering ringing
>This damn thing will probably level your house if you don’t stop it
>Fortunately enough for you, this is a problem that you can fix with your fists!
>You give the alarm a quick bop, silencing it
>After flopping out of bed, you give one last glare at the alarm before you get ready
>It stays quiet, most likely scared of further domestic abuse
>Bitch shouldn’t have woken you up
>The time has come, but you still haven’t
>It’s time for your holy ritual, your daily rite of passage
>The famous “Triple S”
>Shit
>Shower
>Shave
>Well, it’s not really famous, considering literally no one else does it but you
>You think so at least, judging by the lack of camaraderie you experienced last time you brought it up at the bar
>Or maybe it was the fact that it was the third time that week you’d talked about it
>Your thoughts are quickly ignored as you enact the first part of your routine
>Pants are left on the floor, and the rest of your clothing quickly follows
>A soft exhale leaves your lips as you step into the shower, the warm water cleansing you both physically and emotionally
>A soft rustling outside the shower snaps you back to reality
>Whoop! There goes gravity!
>Actually that’s just the feeling of you stumbling in surprise
>No one else lives in this fucking house, who is in your goddamn bathroom?
>Hold up, calling your over glorified shack a house is an insult to the entire definition of what a house should be
>You peek your head out of the shower, the steamy yet chilly air gracing your face
>You’ve got mail!
>Or, more precisely, a note
>Even more precisely, a sticky note!
>It is the second inanimate object to face the wrath of your hands today
>Plucking the note off the toilet, you hold it up to your face
>”cOmE tO sUGAr cUbE cORnER, nEEd hELP - P”
>There’s a piece of chocolate is poorly taped to the note
>A drop of water falls onto the space where the candy once was
>Delicious, delicious Equestrian chocolate
>BonBon may be a massive cunt, but she makes the best damn chocolate you’ve ever had
>Your daily routine is rounded off with a shave followed by a strict observance of dental hygiene
>A shudder travels up your body as you remember the day you forgot to floss
>Never again, Ponyville dentists take their job way too seriously
>You’re pretty sure tackling a patient with broccoli stuck in their teeth in public is way over the line
>A length of dental floss finds its way into the trashcan as you rinse the foaming mixture down the drain
>Digging through your dresser, you ponder what you should wear for the day
>You-know-who needs your help, so that means you need to wear something you can get dirty
>All you know is that you’re not wearing one of your fucking suits
>Those are reserved for special occasions or whenever the fuck you feel like being a classy bastard
>As classy as an alien from another dimension can get
>Which is extremely fucking classy, so classy you could even say it is snazzy
>Snazzy is a way better word than classy
>A dark gray t-shirt is pulled over your torso, hugging your body in all the right places
>Snug as a motherfucker can be
>The high fashion ensemble is finished off with jeans, a belt, and your favorite shoes
>Because men have a wide variety of fashion choices, even in magic horse land
>After a quick detour at the bathroom again for some deodorant, because fuck B.O., you’re on your way to the town bakery
>The morning sun shines softly behind you as you walk across the town
>Weaving through the ponies setting up stalls for the marketplace, you slip into the gaudily decorated building
>A jingle chimes through the air as you enter the building, your eyes focusing on a tuft of pink hair coming out from behind the countertop
“Hey Ponka.”
>The pony behind the counter shuffles, her face popping up
>Last time you checked Pinkie Pie wasn’t blue
>Although, it is Pinkie Pie we’re talking about here
>Her turning into Mrs. Cake is one of the least surprising things she could do
>”Sorry dear, wrong pony. I think you’ll have better luck if you try her room. Good luck!”
>That’s one way to end a sentence ominously
>You give a quick nod and scoot up the staircase, the mare at the counter returning to… whatever the hell she was doing
>After a few quick raps on the outside of the door, you crack open the entrance to Pinkie’s room
>Yep, you’re so well acquainted with Pinkie Pie herself, master of parties, savior of Equestria, that you can just enter her room
>You’re kind of a big deal
>Before you can pause to wonder why Pinkie and her friends don’t seem to get more recognition despite being literal heros, you notice a suspicious lack of pink fluff in the room
>But you do notice a strange lump under the covers of her bed
>You flop down beside this strange protrusion, shaking it gently
“No work today?”
>You’re graced by the pleasant tones of a tortured groan
>”Noooo, I had work, but I’m sick…”
>Pulling back the comforter, you’re greeted with one Pinkamena Diane Pie
>Albeit, a Pinkie Pie with significantly frizzier curls, matted fur, and light bags under her eyes
>One that proceeds to sneeze directly in your face
>”Sowwy Anon…”
>She sniffs as you wipe your face on her bedspread
>All you give her in return is a raised eyebrow
>And a question
“I’m guessing this is the reason you called me over?”
>Nodding, she stretches her back before settling back into the sheets again
>”It’s so bad I could barely even get that note to you!”
“So that was you in my house earlier? I thought you were too sick to get out of bed.”
>A soft giggle escapes her lips
>”No silly billy, that was Rainbow Dash! She’s too busy to take care of me, so she said the least she could do is get someone who could.”
“Uh huh, and you think I’m not busy?”
>Her tired features light up with a grin
>”You’re never busy Anon.”
>You roll your eyes as you get up from the bed, choosing to plop your ass down on a soft chair instead
“You’re lucky you’re so damn cute, or else you’d be shit outta luck, Panko.”
>Anonymous, master of bullshit
>All these ponies really look the same to you, besides minor changes in build, eyes, hair, and color
>At least it means they’re all cute
>Hopping up again, you step over to the bed again
>The pink pony’s face is redder than it usually is
>She squeaks as you press your head against her forehead, checking for a temperature
>Does that work with horses? Fuck if you know. Either way she seems pretty heated
“Yikes, you’re feeling a little hot there Pinks. What can I get you?”
>Her mouth is doing that weird, but cute, scrunchy thing that they do
>”S-soup… soup! And water please!”
>The pink ball of fluff quickly retreats under her covers, leaving your hand hovering in place and your face surprised
>What a goofball, she must not want to get you sick
>Although that seems kind of counter intuitive to her sneezing on you earlier
>With a shrug you head down the stairs and into the expansive kitchen of Sugar Cube Corner
>Mr. Cake greets you, his attention swiftly returning to the bowl of batter he was mixing
>”Hey there Anonymous! I’m guessing you’re here to take care of Pinkie? Poor gal’s been struck with something awful.”
“Yeah, I was just about to whip up some soup for her.”
>The stallion catches on quickly, pointing you to the appropriate places in the kitchen for what you need
>After some quick cooking you’re back up the stairs with a bowl of simmering broth and a glass of ice cold water precariously balancing on a tray
>Entering the room once more, you’re greeted by the shuffled of covers Pinkie dives under them once again
>Setting the tray down at the end of the bed, you quickly dig under the covers for the fluffy horse, pulling her out
“Silly pony, you need your face to eat.”
>The teasing is accentuated with a boop, and even your stupid ass can tell this is one embarrassed pony
>You pick up the tray and place it in front of her, going back to recline in the chair once more
“I’ll be over here if you need me, alright?”
>After you settle in the chair, you notice a distinct lack of soup eating sounds
“Pinks, what’s wrong dude.”
>She mumbles something into her pillow, unfortunately you left your supersonic hearing at home today so you can’t tell what the fuck she just said
“You’re going to have to like, actually speak out of the pillow Pinkie.”
>”Nonny… can you feed me?”
>With a sigh you rise from your comfortable position, already craving the sweet plushness of the chair
>Sitting across from Pinkie on the bed, you dip the spoon into the bowl, bringing the steaming liquid to her face
“Here, you goofball.”
>Instead of eating the soup, all she gives you is a concerned look
>”’s too hot, you gotta blow on it.”
>Nodding, you bring the spoon in front of your face and cool down the liquid within
>You sure hope Pinkie doesn’t mind indirect kisses, because there’s no fucking way this is sanitary
>Presenting the spoon of now cooled liquid to her, she wastes no time snapping her mouth around it and swallowing the spoonful
>The process is repeated over and over again until you have one empty bowl of soup and one satisfied little pony
>She settles back into her pillows, nursing the glass of cool water, every gulp visibly going down her throat
>With a sigh of relief she releases the glass, the semi melted ice cubes settling to the bottom
>You take the time to clear off her bed, placing everything on the ground
>As tempting as the chair is right now, one look at the pony in front of you says that your job isn’t done
>”Anooo~n! I’m cold.”
>She firmly denies your suggestion of a blanket, instead holding her hooves out and motioning you to come closer
>Sighing, you shimmy under the covers next to the pony
>Nothing weird about it, these horses are all about the physical contact, cuddling and hugging is just what they do
>It’s what she does next that surprises you though
>With a surprising amount of grace for a sick pony, she rolls from your side to on top of you
>She looks into your eyes, hers half lidded with sleep or maybe, something else…
>A few hitched breaths are exchanged between you two before closes her eyes, leaning in
>And suddenly you can’t breathe anymore, first because of the combination of her weight on you and how fucking nervous you are
>But then because the pony’s lips are locked against yours, her head tilted to the side
>Your eyes goes from wide in shock to closed, accepting your fate
>The moment is electric, chills running down your body
>Just as quickly as it began, it ends, her lips separating from yours
>You could have sworn it was a hallucination, but the strand of saliva connecting the two of you says otherwise
>The mare in front of you gives a small giggle, before nestling into your neck
>Your arms find your way around her, and she gives no resistance
>”Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to do that, you big dummy?”
>Knowing better than to answer, you simply nuzzle into her mane, eliciting a squeak from her
>You stay locked together for what feels like eternity
>At some point, you swear you hear a pair of voices expressing relief that something had finally happened
>Drifting in and out of consciousness, you’re taken out long enough for you to let out a sneeze
>Fuck

Mini-Epilogue
>Thank Celestia
>That mare finally did it
>Tossing your binoculars, you lie back in your cloud, your cyan hooves coming to rest behind your rainbow mane
>You quickly regret tossing the binoculars, but as long as nobody gets conked in the head you’re probably fine
>Probably
>Depends on how hard Twilight is going to yell at you for breaking them
>A yawn stretches your features and dulls your senses
>Looks like they’re not the only ones who are taking a nap today
>Playing matchmaker is tough dude