Strange Tales from the Bedroom

by CinnamonSwirltheBreaded

Rating: mature
Tags: Adventure, Romance
Length: 53817

Cheerilee and Big Mac share some pillow talk about their pasts... and past relationships.

Despite dating for a while, neither Cheerilee nor Big McIntosh have been particularly open about their lives. So when their date turns down that road, both of them are eager to share a bit of their history.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-08-02 03:19:52 UTC

Chapter 3: Big Mac's Story

“Ya see, a couple of years back…” Big McIntosh paused and frowned, wondering how to begin. It wasn’t that long ago, but he doubted too many ponies knew about it, even if they paid attention to the news. He paused and let his eyes wander around the room; it was certainly a lot different than any of the rooms back in his home. The walls tended to be sparsely decorated, and what pictures they did have usually were of the family. Not that Cheerilee didn’t have pictures of her folks, of course, but her walls told a story.

“Well?” Cheerilee asked, shifting her head so she could look up at him.

Big Mac grimaced, he’d let his thoughts get the better of him again. “Well, ya see… do you remember a couple of years ago when I was injured right in time for Applebuckin’ season? And my sister had to look after that all on her own?”

“Of course I do,” Cheerilee said, “as I recall, it was a rather interestin’ week, what with the stampedes of cattle and rabbits.” Big Mac narrowed his eyes slightly, as she slipped into an imitation of his accent. She smiled crookedly and gave him a hug—perhaps she was just slipping into it by accident. He had that effect on ponies sometimes. “But I mostly remember it for how worried Apple Bloom was,” she continued. “First her big brother hurts himself, then her big sister goes and tries to kill herself doing all that work.” Cheerilee nuzzled his neck. “She was worried sick for the two of you.”

“I know,” Big Mac shifted uneasily; he had spent most of that week doing light work around the house, and he was well aware of how stressed Apple Bloom had been. “Well, in the end all the apples got harvested, and that was that, but it made me feel…”

“Huh?”

“Lookit, I love my sister. Both of ‘em, and don’t you ever think I don’t, but Applejack, well she’s something else altogether sometimes.” Big Mac felt his thought process jumping around erratically. Ponies thought he was stupid because he didn’t like to say much, but the truth was he found it embarrassing when he tried to explain something and he ended up babbling. “I mean, she done gone and harvested the whole farm all on her own, with no help at all from me.” Big Mac felt his lips draw together, “kinda makes a fella feel useless, ya know?”

“’Harvested the whole farm’?” Cheerilee propped herself up on the bed, mirroring his expression with a frown of her own. “That’s not the way I heard it.”

“I know in the end she got her friends to help her out, Cheerilee, but I also know she would have kept goin’ even if she didn’t have nopony to call on. Not to mention she still found time to save the town and help her friends out and everythin’” Big Mac held up his hoof to cut off Cheerilee’s objection, “I know, ah know, but like ah said, the story’s kind of embarrassin’, and that’s why.”

“Because your sister made you feel useless?” Cheerilee’s voice sounded sceptical, and Big Mac couldn’t blame her. He suspected most ponies wouldn’t get all worked up about some sort of simple thing like this, but the Apple Family had deep roots, and sometimes they were more than a little bit stubborn and all. But they were a family first and foremost, and feeling like you weren’t needed and shirking on your duties just wasn’t done. Nor was feeling jealous of your sister.

“Nope,” Big Mac sighed. “’cause I was jealous. See, I suppose you could say it started when Applejack went off and put that Nightmare Moon character in her place. Don’t get the wrong idea, I couldn’t be happier—apple trees need the sun to grow, after all, and more importantly, AJ came home safe ‘n’ sound.”

Big Mac smacked his lips and reached for his glass of water, drinking it as he thought. “Farmin’ my whole life, it’s in my blood, you could say, and it never once occurred to me that I might be missin’ something in my life, not like Applejack and how she went off and discovered she’d rather be on the farm. I never doubted it, never questioned it, and then AJ starts goin’ off on adventures ‘n’ well… I guess you could say I wanted a bit of an adventure myself. I wanted to be somepony, not just a farmer, not just a dumb hunk of stallion everypony thinks me to be.”

“I don’t think you’re dumb,” Cheerilee said, then kissed him on the cheek. In spite of what they had just finished doing, Big Mac blushed, then tilted his muzzle down to kiss her right back.

“Plenty of ponies do, though Miss Cheerilee. I know they do, and it didn’t used to bother me really, but after Applejack started being more than her cutie mark, I wanted a bit of that too.

“So, after Applejack was all rested up, I left…

***

“I’m leavin’ tomorrow.” Big Mac said finally, as Applejack sat back down at the table.

The four of them—Applejack, Apple Bloom, Granny and himself—had just finished their evening meal, and Big Mac had finally managed to say what he had been trying to force out for nearly two weeks. Better late than never, he supposed.

It had been nearly two weeks since the crop was bucked out of the trees, although it had been by no means a lazy two weeks. Even with the crop in, there was still plenty of work to do around Sweet Apple Acres, especially with the winter coming up. Roofs needed fixing, along with the fences and tools. Never mind what other sorts of work might crop up unexpectedly, like beavers getting into the orchard or some crazy adventure with the locals. And of course they needed to sort all the apples and squirrel them away for the winter… Cider press probably needed a new flywheel too.

Still, Big Mac had finally made up his mind; he was going to leave, and that was that. But he did feel a bit guilty leaving his sister with all the work, so he had tried his best to do more than his fair share while he could. Naturally, though, that just let him avoid the necessary business of telling the family he was packing his bags.

Applejack twitched her ear, obviously hearing Big Mac but probably not paying attention, as she started to go through the bills. He had already done that, of course, and knew which ones needed to be paid and by when, but Applejack had always insisted on going over them herself too, whether it was needed or not. Big Mac knew it was because she was trying to be responsible, but it wasn’t as if he couldn’t read or do math.

The other apple family members reacted much the same way; Apple Bloom was staring in her math homework, and Granny was dozing her meal off. Big Mac snorted, and opened his mouth to repeat what he had just said, when Applejack’s eyes snapped up off the bill between her hooves to stare at him.

“Did you say somethin’, Sugarcube?” Applejack asked; her voice roused Granny and Apple Bloom glanced up at her sister—and by extension him.

“I said, ‘I’m leavin’ tomorrow,” Big Mac repeated, trying not to frown. If ponies weren’t going to listen to him, what was the point in talking?

“Leavin’?” Granny weezed out, “’morrow ain’t market day… is it?”

“No, it’s not. Big Mac, what are y'all on about?”

Well, at least he had their attention now.

“I’m leavin’ Sweet Apple Acres,” Big Mac scuffled his hoof against the table’s surface. “Goin’ out on mah own.”

“What?” Applejack’s eyes grew wide with shock—as did Apple Bloom’s. Granny looked more like she was wishing for her hearing horn, probably because she assumed she had misheard him. “What sort of tomfoolery are you goin’ on about, Big Mac?”

Big Mac took a deep breath. “I don’t know how else to explain it, sis, in the mornin’ I’m be heading out, probably won’t be back, at least not this year.”

“But… why?” Apple Bloom asked, her voice trembling slightly. Big Mac glanced at her briefly and instantly felt guilty; he didn’t care what the school’s teachers were saying about her grades, she was smart as a whip when it came down to it. she obviously knew what was going on. Didn’t make explaining to her that living the simple farm life wasn’t enough anymore. Apple Bloom was too small to remember Applejack leaving for Manehatten, but Big Mac did, and he had a reasonable idea of what his littlest sister was feeling.

“Forget th’ why,” Applejack butted in, “what about the farm! y'all can’t just up and run off to Celestia know’s where, we need you around here Big Mac.”

“Do ya?” Big Mac asked rhetorically, “do ya really need me, Applejack?” He shook his head violently—he didn’t want to argue, and he didn’t want to leave his family on a sour note. “Lookit, the apples are in, and y'all have a long winter to look forward to. I ain’t needed around here, everypony knows it.”

Before either of his sisters could reply, Big Mac stood up, and headed towards the door. “I’ve got a few things to pack, if y'all want t’ talk—and talk mind, not argue, I’ll be in the barn.”

Truthfully, he really wasn’t planning on doing much packing just yet. Big Mac didn’t own all that much, and he certainly didn’t have much in the way that he’d feel right taking away with him when he left. But being out in the night air was a welcome change if nothing else and he had always found the relative peace and quiet of the barn to be relaxing. He went out there to think, and to do simple work while he was at it. Unless his memory was failing, there was a bent pitchfork out there with his name on it. It was just one last thing he could do before he left. Of course, he mostly went out to put away his collar.

He wore the collar almost consistently, whether he was actually using it or not, simply because it was such an absolute hassle to get on… or off.  Most ponies required at least another pony to help them in and out of such a thing, but when ma and pa had passed away, Big Mac hadn’t exactly had that luxury, so he knew how to do it by himself.  Still, it wasn’t exactly what he’d call easy work—or at least it wasn’t exactly graceful. Eventually though, he managed to slip out of the collar and set it aside against the wall of the barn, before grabbing the bent pitchfork off the rack and sitting down to straight the tongs out. He wasn’t exactly surprised when Applejack kicked open the barn door.

“What the hay do you mean you’re leavin’?” Applejack stood silhouetted against the night sky looking in for a moment before she stomped the rest of the way in and bumped the door closed again with her hoof. “You think you can just decide to pack your bags and gallop out of here?”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac snorted through his nose as he gave the pitchfork a once over. Most ponies would need a forge to fix it—the poor thing had been an unfortunate bystander in one of his sister’s latest harebrained attempts to get a cutie mark. How the three of them managed to twist the tongs around like that while trying to get cutie marks in cooking, he’d never be able to guess. Fixing it though, that was simple enough. “’nd I decided two weeks ago, Applejack, it just wasn’t so easy to tell y'all. I am sorry for that.”

“Two weeks ago?” Applejack’s voice took on a thoughtful tone, although Big Mac was certain the shift in his sister’s mood was only temporary. Using one of his hooves, he held the pitchfork in place and started straightening the tongs. Lucky he was so strong. “Why, that would’ve… does this have anything to do with you bein’ injured? You’re not still sick, are ya?”

Big Mac hesitated, then shrugged. “Sort of.” Applejack looked askance at him, and Big Mac sighed as he explained a bit further. “I realized you don’t really need my help runnin’ this place, AJ.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Applejack’s voice ratcheted back up into anger. “’course I need your help, if it weren’t for Twilight and em, I wouldn’t have gotten the harvest in at all.”

“Ya came close though,” Big Mac said, “closer than I thought you would’ve.”

“So you missed one Applebuckin’ season, it ain’t the end of the world! And we still need ya plenty around here,” Applejack added resolutely, “I just don’t know what’s gotten in to ya. This ain’t like you.”

“Maybe,” Big Mac frowned. Of course it wasn’t like him; he was always the pony who was sure what he wanted to do. And did what he had to do. He didn’t even have an interesting story about how he had come by his cutie mark—he was just bucking trees one day and poof, there it was. “Maybe that’s a good thing.”

“That’s the stupidest bunch of hooey I’ve ever heard, and I have to listen to Rarity goes on about her mane,” Applejack snorted gustily. “You’re stayin’ and that’s that.”

“Nope,” Big Mac shook his head and picked up his hammer with his mouth, before placing the pitchfork on a small anvil that had been in the family since before Ponyville was founded.

Applejack didn’t say anything while Big Mac pounded the hammer against the pitchfork to get out the last of the kinks that he simply couldn’t bend out with brute force. It wasn’t until he had finished that he realized his sister hadn’t bothered to interrupt—Celestia knows his sister could speak loud enough to be heard over the forging. Nor had she left. Applejack was just standing there, staring at him—maybe her eyes were a bit wetter than normal, but she wasn’t crying. At least as far as he could tell.

“Why are ya leavin’, brother?” Applejack asked again. “This just ain’t like you. I want you to stay, and I know Apple Bloom and Granny do too.”

“There’s…” Big Mac groped for the proper word, “I want to see a bit of the world, I guess. I never have and I figure I’m missing a lot.”

“Where will ya go then?”

“I figure Canterlot first, probably head on down to Manehatten and visit our relatives.” Big Mac paused and shrugged. “After that, I don’t know. Maybe I won’t like it out there, and I’ll be right back here in a jiffy, but at least I can say I was out there.”

Applejack sighed something Big Mac didn’t catch, then bucked the barn doors open and stomped out. He wished she’d stop doing that, she’d only be making more work for herself when the winter came and she suddenly found herself needing to replace part of the door because of all the abuse it had suffered. Clearly she wasn’t exactly happy with him, but he had expected that.

Big Mac set aside the pitchfork, and looked at the other tools hanging on the wall, seeing if there was anything else that needed doing There was, there always was something else that needed fixing, but there wasn’t anything he could do in a couple of hours, and not at this time of night. He might be strong but not everything could be solved through brute force, he’d have to go out to the blacksmith to fix some of the more pitted tools, for example.

So he glanced around the barn once more before blowing out the lantern and trotting back to the house.

The house was dark by the time he reached it, but it wouldn’t be the first time he had gone to bed after all the other members of the household had hit the hay, so Big Mac was perfectly fine with moving through the farmhouse quietly and carefully, even in the pitch darkness. He doubted Applejack had gone to bed just yet, it was much more her style to do her own work when she needed to cool off—or go for a walk. But Apple Bloom was probably tucked in by now, and Granny, well who knew? She could fall a sleep almost whenever the mood took her, and be up at odd hours besides.

Or at least, that’s what he thought; when he finally made his way up to his bedroom he found himself staring face to face with Apple Bloom. The filly had obviously been sent to bed—her mane was brushed out and her red bow, which she wore everywhere, was out of her mane—but she didn’t look like she was ready to turn in just yet. Even if she did look tired.

“How can ya be leavin’ tomorrow, Big Mac?” Apple Bloom asked. “Did… did I do somethin’ wrong?”

Big Mac blinked in surprise; why would Apple Bloom assume he was leaving because of her? “’Course not, Apple Bloom.” Big Mac paused for a second before adding: “That’s a darn foolish notion.”

“B-but,” Apple Bloom stammered, and blinked hard. “Are you mad at us?”

“Nope,” Big Mac said, then closed his door and sat down on his bed next to Apple Bloom. It wasn’t the biggest room in the world, but it was his. Lately though, he was beginning to realize maybe it was a bit too small, in more than one way. “Ain’t no point in gettin’ mad at family, Apple Bloom, not in the long run at least.” He wrapped his forearm around her and gave her a hug. He was only using one leg but he was so big and she was so small she practically vanished against his chest.

“I just want to see a bit of the world,” Big Mac continued, “one day you’ll want to do that yourself. I just want to, I don’t know, discover a bit about myself, I guess.”

“Ya mean like a cutie mark?” Apple Bloom’s voice was somewhat muffled against his coat, but Big Mac heard her all the same. Lately more and more of her classmates were getting their cutie marks, and it had started to get to his sister since she didn’t have one yet. But he was sure she’d get hers soon. “You already got a cutie mark!”

“I do, but a cutie mark ain’t the beginnin’ and end’ of a pony,” Big Mac said, then released Apple Bloom from his hug. “And don’t you worry none, I’ll be home sooner than you know it, I’m sure.”

“Really?”

“’Course.” Big Mac didn’t bother to mention if he did come home, he might only be doing so as a visit. “Now it’s late and I’d like to see you up tomorrow before I go, so y'all better go to bed.”

Apple Bloom looked up at him for a moment before giving him a hug of her own. “I love ya, Big Brother.”

“I love you too, Apple Bloom,” Big Mac tried to ignore the pain in his chest as she hopped off his bed and hurried out the door—almost running into the last member of the Apple household, Granny.

Big Mac frowned of course, although he had been expecting her to come around too. Granny Smith was one of the oldest living members of the Apple Family, but despite her advanced age little escaped her notice. In fact, over the past two weeks as he struggled with making up his mind and then struggled to confront the family with his decision, he had begun to suspect she knew something was going on with him.

“Come to try and get me to stay too?” Big Mac asked finally, after Granny had said goodnight to Apple Bloom and shooed her away, closing the door behind her.

“I reckon there ain’t much point,” Granny said, “youl made up your mind, and there’s few things more stubborn than an Apple with her—or his—mind set on somethin’. Your ma was the same way.”

Big Mac nodded and scuffed his hoof against the floorboards, trying to think of what to say. Even after all this time, it wasn’t easy talking about their parents, especially for Applejack and him, although Granny sometimes brought them up. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to remember them, of course, he missed them dearly, and… well remembering wouldn’t get much work done, he supposed.

“I wanted to say I’m proud of ya, Big McIntosh.” Granny said finally after a long period of awkward silence. “And your ma and pa would be too.”

“’Cause… I’m leavin’?” Big Mac’s heart froze in his chest as a horrible irrational fear gripped him; maybe Granny was trying to tell him that they didn’t need him—in fact, they’d be better off without him!

“Shoot, no ‘course not, sonny!” Granny crackled and sat down beside him on the bed. “I’m proud of ya cause you’re makin’ a choice! I remember when you were just a lit’colt, always goin’ around askin’ for permission for everythin’ and…”

Twitching his ears, Big Mac got up from the bed and started to go through his drawers to find what he was looking for while Granny spoke. It wasn’t that he wasn’t listening, of course, but he knew when Granny got into the mood she could ramble for an hour or more before getting to her point. Better to work and get things done than just spend the time listening.

Mostly, he wanted to bring a couple of photographs along with his best clothing, in case he needed to dress up fancy-like for a job interview or something. Of course, he was hoping his bits would last him long enough that it wouldn’t be much of a problem, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Folding it up all nicely, Big Mac pulled his saddlebags out from under his bed. His pa had given to him right after he had gotten his cutie mark all those years ago. They were hoofmade with a stitched version of his cutie mark over the clasp. While they weren’t particularly fancy, they had always been special to him. And mostly unused. Most of the time, if Big Mac was headed into town, it was to get something done. He rarely did anything besides work, and certainly nothing that would require saddlebags.

“…mah point is, sonny,” Big Mac shook his head and refocused on what his grandmother was saying. “you’ve all grown up on me—you and Applejack both—and I couldn’t be prouder, and I know your ma and pa would feel the same way.” Granny reached over and scooped Big Mac into a hug with surprising swiftness—and strength. “You’re a fine young stallion, Big McIntosh.”

“Thanks, Granny,” Big Mac said as he pulled away. “I should probably get some sleep though.”

“’Course,” Granny nodded, before getting unsteadily to her hooves. “I’ll see ya in the mornin’, sonny, and don’t you try to sneak out on us or some darn foolishness.” Granny paused at the door and winked at him. “I may be old, but I ain’t stupid.”

Big Mac stared at the door for a while after Granny had left, before taking his own advice and curling up in the bed. It’d probably be the last time he’d get a good night sleep in his own bed—perhaps for the rest of his life, depending on how things went. So he might as well enjoy it while he could.

Plus he should have known sneaking past Granny wouldn’t work; it hadn’t worked when Applejack had tried it all those years ago when she was just a filly, so of course she’d be wise to such things. If his grandmother was to be believed, though, it was apparently something that ran in the family.

Big Mac grunted and thumped his head back against the pillow. It was going to be a long night, and an even longer tomorrow.

**

By noon the next day, Big Mac was starting to wonder if the universe was trying to tell him something; namely, telling him not to travel anywhere for any length of time for any reason.

The first problem had come in the form of trying to say goodbye to the family. He hadn’t expected it to be easy, even without Applejack frowning at him when she thought he wasn’t looking, or Apple Bloom’s worried expression that told him she probably still thought it was all her fault. But he hadn’t been expecting it to be as hard as it was. How Applejack made galloping off into the unknown look so easy he’d never know, but eventually he persevered and managed to extract himself from everypony’s hugs and get on the road.

Which is where he ran into the second problem of his trip; Ponyville’s trains weren’t working. Big Mac rarely ventured into this part of the town, but even he had heard how the rails connecting Ponyville and Canterlot were blocked. How the landslide had happened was anypony’s guess, at the least the way he heard it, but the fact remained that the main, and easiest way of getting to Canterlot wasn’t available to him. This left walking.

In truth, it wasn’t as much of a problem as it might otherwise have been for another pony, but having worked literally all his life on the farm, bucking trees and ploughing fields, Big Mac was more than capable of trotting at a reasonable pace for most of the day until he reached the Lonely Mountain.  Except, by the time he got there, he was tired, sweaty, and to top it off, the last train for Manehatten had already pulled out of the station.

Getting a room wasn’t a big deal, even if he disliked spending the money when he could have avoided it had he left sooner, and at least this way he wasn’t rushed when he got up the next morning and bought his ticket.

That however, proved to be the source of his third hiccup he had thus far encountered on the trip. Motion Sickness.

Having never traveled before, Big Mac had never been on a train before, and except for when he was a little colt, if there was any wagons being hauled around, he was usually the one doing the hauling. So now he was slumped over in his seat, trying his best not to throw up as the train sped towards Manehatten.

Only six more hours to go, Big Mac thought, trying to comfort himself. It didn’t exactly work.

The train swayed rather dramatically, and Big Mac wondered if he should seek out the train’s washroom before he vomited all over the carpet, when he felt a hoof tap him on his shoulder. Looking up he found himself face to face with a gray mare, an earth pony like himself.

“Are you alright? You look a bit… green.” Big Mac stared at the mare for a moment, trying to figure out what she meant. His coat was red, not green and—

A particularly violent stake of the train caused him to clench his teeth as the mare’s eyes grew wide with horror. Luckily at the last minute he fought down the urge to vomit all over her and just shook his head.

“If you’re feeling motion-sick, you should look out the window.” It took him a moment to realize there was a second pony in the compartment—another mare, but a unicorn this time. If the first mare’s voice was cultured and warm, her voice was much more brash and to the point. Still, he didn’t have much to lose, so Big Mac quickly looked out the window at the landscape as it rolled by. Every nerve in his body was telling him to curl up and whimper like a foal, but after a few minutes of watching the blurry trees and mountains, he slowly found his nausea subsiding.

Meanwhile, the two mares decided to take the seats opposite him, although when he glanced at them, the grey-brown mare seemed to be more than a little wary sitting across from him. The same couldn’t be said for the white unicorn, who was laid out on her side, almost forcing the other mare off the seat. Big Mac couldn’t really watch them, except with quick glances, but it was clear to him it didn’t take long for the earth pony mare to forget about worrying about Big Mac’s sickness and trying to keep her seat.

Eventually, though, he pulled his eyes away from the landscape and to his guests. Well, he supposed they weren’t really his guests, but he still felt like he was being rude.

“Thanks,” Big Mac said after a moment, trying to figure out if he was feeling the sensation of nausea rising again. However, he distracted himself by taking in the two ponies in front of him. Besides the way they sat, which was very different, their manes seemed to be polar opposites too; the earth pony’s black mane was long and straight, clearly carefully maintained, whereas her unicorn companion’s was shorter, wilder, and a shade of blue that reminded him of lightning.

“And thank you from refraining from throwing up on me,” the earth pony of the pair said; Big Mac didn’t exactly blame her for taking that tone with him, but still, he couldn’t help but feeling a bit disgruntled. It wasn’t his fault he got motion sick. “My name is Octavia, in the Canterlot Symp—ouch!” Octavia glared at the Unicorn who had just kicked her in the thigh “Vinyl, must you be so difficult?”

“With you? You bet.” Vinyl grinned madly, before assuming a more conservative position in her seat. “So what’s your name?”

“Uh, Big McIntosh. Most call me Big Mac though,” he said with a shrug, then felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. Even though these two ponies clearly had very different outlooks on life, they were clearly more cultured than not. He, on the other hoof, sounded like an idiot.

“Geez, your parents must have been psychic!” Vinyl said with a laugh, “I mean look at you! Dang, they don’t grow’em like that where I’m from, I can tell you that.” She licked her lips, “kind of sexy, if you ask—oof.”

Vinyl turned to glare at Octavia, who was sitting primly and clearly pretending she hadn’t just smacked the other mare with her hoof. Which was good, because Big Mac suspected his blush was starting to become visible, red coat or no, and it gave him an excuse to look out the window again.

“What did you do that for?”

“It seems that hitting you is the only way to get you to be anything but an uncouth hooligan!”

“You’re just a stick in the mud, you need to relax, pony!”

Big Mac snorted gustily; despite traveling together, the two mares didn’t exactly seem very friendly to one another—although he supposed it might be one of those relationships where the two ponies continually sniped at one another. Too bad the terrain outside wasn’t exactly interesting. It’d be a while before they headed into the Manehatten valley, and until then everything outside the train was just trees or rocks.

“…fine!” Big Mac blinked and turned back to his traveling companions, in time to see Octavia get to her hooves and trot towards the carriage’s exit. She paused at the door and looked back at him. “Can I get you anything to drink, Mister McIntosh? Perhaps a Ginger Ale? It might help your stomach.”

“Uh.” He thought for a brief moment, and then nodded in her direction. It probably would be pricey, given it was on a train, but it would help settle him down, that’d be helpful too. Thankfully, he’d have the money to repay her when she got back.

“That girl needs to chill out,” Vinyl commented, unbidden by Big Mac. With Octavia gone, she stretched out even further, completely dominating the seat meant for several ponies… and exposing herself slightly in the process. It wasn’t much, but from the angle he was sitting at, he could see almost everything… with a blush he turned away—and crossed his legs slightly.

“I suppose,” Big Mac thought quickly—last thing he wanted to do was embarrass himself further—he had to change the subject. “If the two of you don’t get along, why are y’all traveling together?” As he spoke, a thought occurred to him; “or are the two of you sisters or somethin’?”

Vinyl laughed, “Sisters? Us?” The mare doubled up laughing as if he had said the funniest joke in the world—although he really didn’t see what was so funny about asking that. “No, no,” Vinyl managed to wheeze out after what felt like a minute.  “We’re co-workers. Well, sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“Well, I know you’ve probably never heard of any of the boring shit Octavia makes—” Big Mac’s ears twitched—very few ponies swore back in Ponyville. “—but you’ve probably heard of me? I go by the stage name DJ Pon-3?”

Big Mac tried to think if he had ever heard the name before; it did sound familiar, to a degree, but not in such a way that he could pin it down to anyone or thing. Finally, he shook his head, “I’m afraid not, Miss Vinyl.”

“Really?” Vinyl’s eyes grew slightly wide, and for a brief moment, he wondered if he had insulted her by not knowing her name. “Wow dude, I’ve got to let you listen to some of my wubs, they’re awesome! And just call me Vinyl, please, there’s no need to be so formal.”

“I think it’s rather sweet,” Octavia’s voice came from the doorway and Big Mac looked up in time to see her walking into the cabin on three legs as she carried a tray of drinks in her other hoof. Without a second thought, he got up to take the tray—it was only polite—but before he could grab it in his teeth, a light blue corona erupted around the tray and drinks, levitating it out of both of their grasps. He turned back in time to see Vinyl set the tray one of the fold out tables—and to see her switch seats, hopping over to the one he had just been in. Unlike before, however, she didn’t seem interested in forcing him off his seat, and she left the window side open for him.

Good thing too, his sudden movement had made him a touch dizzy.

Vinyl continued as he took the offered drink and sipped it. “As I was saying, the two of us have contracts with Pony Music Entertainment, our record company. Part of the deal involves promoting our music and the company—unfortunately, that means traveling together.”

“It’s not so bad,” Octavia murmured demurely, “after all, we do get to travel more than most ponies.” She turned her pink eyes onto Big Mac, “If I might pry, why are you headed to the fair city of Manehatten, Big McIntosh?”

Lookin’ for adventure, was the first thought that popped into his head, but instead he said; “Family.” Big Mac blushed as Octavia frowned ever so slightly. Don’t clam up, Big Mac, a voice whispered in his head. All too often, if he wasn’t tripping over his own tongue trying to put his thoughts in order, he’d find himself giving one word answers, especially when he was dealing with a mare. Granny called it shyness, but he just found it irritating. “I mean, I’m going to visit my cousins, the Oranges, at least for a little while. Don’t rightly know what I’ll do then.”

“The Oranges?” Octavia’s eyes grew wide and her polite frown turned into an equally measured and slight smile. “You wouldn’t happen to mean the Oranges of the Tropical Orange Emporium, do you?”

Big Mac nodded after a moment’s thought. The Oranges were sort of the black sheep of the family, and really, he wasn’t that closely related to them. Years ago, before he was born, they had moved down south to one of Equestria’s colonies to grow oranges, of all things—even changing their family name. Still, he didn’t begrudge their hard work—they had built the company out of nothing and now they were relatively well off, not even living on their plantation anymore, but in Manehatten.

“Pff, guess you’d fit in real well with Octavia here,” Vinyl said, shaking her head and sipping her own drink, some dark liquid Big Mac had never seen nor smelt before.

“We’re only distantly related,” Big Mac grumbled, suddenly feeling the need to defend himself. “I’m only staying with’em ‘cause I ain’t got no other family to stay with in Manehatten.” His voice was a bit more heated than he intended.

“Whoa there, big guy,” Vinyl said, raising her hooves up in front of her face as if she was fending off an attack. “I’m just teasing you is all. I’m sure you’re a cool cat.” She paused and slowly a grin crept onto her face. “I bet you’d like my rubs!”

“Uh, Pardon?” Big Mac gave the mare a sharp look of surprise. Vinyl’s eyes grew a bit wide, before taking on a predatory gleam as she clued into his confusion, . McIntosh felt his heart beat a little bit faster.

“I meant my music, Big Stuff.” Vinyl’s grin grew a little wider, “But I wouldn’t say no…”

“Oh for…!” Octavia’s voice took on a sharp tone, giving McIntosh a reason to look away from Vinyl, if only for a second. He could feel his cheeks heating again and this time he was sure it was visible through his fur. Ponies back home simply didn’t act like this mare did. At least not in his experience. “You’re awful Vinyl, truly.” Octavia’s eyes narrowed as she glared at the unicorn, before softening as she turned back to Big Mac. “But if you’re going to pull those banshee-screams you call music out, would you be so kind as to retrieve my Celestial Concerto in D Major from my case? I wouldn’t mind showing him my own work too.”

He didn’t have the heart to tell them he really didn’t listen to music that much. It wasn’t as if McIntosh had never heard a lick of music or something. Of course he had. But those instances were few and far between, typically only when the extended family got together. Several of his cousins liked to pick up the fiddle or whatever and play some dance music—even he sometimes would pick up an old banjo or whatever and strum it—but that was it. Still, it was only polite to listen to them, regardless of his own appreciation for music.

Vinyl jumped up onto the seat, balancing on her hind legs—not that Big Mac spent any time looking, of course—and unzipped several of their bags in the top rack. He wasn’t really sure what to expect, but she pulled out a set of speakers and a flat boxy device of some sort. It wasn’t very big, nor were the set of discs Vinyl dropped on top of it. When Vinyl had talked about records—and combined with her name—Big Mac had been expecting records, but these were far too small and shiny to be such things.

Unexpected or not, he wasn’t too surprised when she popped them into the machine and it started playing music.

Even though it had been Vinyl’s idea, Octavia’s record ended up in the machine first, and even to his unpractised ear, he could tell there were far more ponies playing instruments than just Octavia—unless she had one of those contraptions he had seen Pinkie Pie trotting around town with. Regardless, it seemed to be primarily stringed instruments—although he thought, he could hear a wind instrument or two.

“Is that a fiddle?” Big Mac asked, as the music finally faded. It wasn’t bad to listen too, but it seemed to be a very long piece of music, almost completely unbroken. Much longer than most of the songs that got played at Family Reunions, that was for sure.

Octavia blinked, then smiled. “You mean a violin? But yes. I’m surprised you were able to pick that up, most ponies have trouble separating different instruments in a concert.” Octavia’s eyes narrowed slightly and Big Mac got the feeling he was being studied. “Have you ever studied music?”

McIntosh barked a laugh, and shook his head. “Not me, Ms. Octavia, I’m just a farmpony.”

“Yeah yeah,” Vinyl said. To Big Mac’s surprise, she sounded rather short—even when she was arguing with Octavia, she seemed to be half-joking, rather than truly hostile. Now she just seemed irritated, but by what, he had no idea. “Enough of this old stuff.” Vinyl tapped the machine and the disk spat out. “Here’s the good stuff!”

At first, Big Mac wasn’t sure what he was hearing. It was nothing like Octavia’s music, and something he had never heard before. Part of him almost didn’t want to call it music at all. He couldn’t pick out any instruments, and many of the sounds seemed to be distorted or outright strange, not to mention that vocals were a large part of the music too. And even they were distorted and altered somehow. It wasn’t until he realized it was Vinyl singing—if you could call that singing—that he realized the singer wasn’t stuttering, but simply repeating words and such was done intentionally. There was also an awful lot of cursing and profanity, which made McIntosh’s ears flick back and forth uneasily.

But he also kind of liked it.

Octavia’s music was lovely, and it wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate all the work she had put into it, but there was something primal about Vinyl’s music. It seemed to get inside his head and chest, making him want to… dance? Maybe? He wasn’t sure what he wanted exactly. As the song finished up and faded out, Big Mac found himself wishing he could listen to it again. Of course, if Granny ever caught him listening so such music, she’d probably wash his ears out with soap—even if one ignored the swearing, a herculean task in and of itself, he was pretty sure the ‘message’ or ‘story’ behind the lyrics was about sex or something like that.

“We don’t got nothin’ like that back in Ponyville,” Big Mac commented when the song finally ended. Or at least, he had never heard anything like that back home. To his surprise, both the mare’s faces lit up in recognition.

“Whoa dude, you never said you lived in Ponyville!” Vinyl gushed, and McIntosh couldn’t figure out why—until she continued. “Do you know any of the Elements of Harmony?”

“Uh, well…” Big Mac’s good mood suddenly turned sour; it figured he wouldn’t be able to escape his little sister’s shadow even out here. He hadn’t stopped to consider that the mares would be world-famous, rather than just local heroes, but he supposed that made sense. But the last thing he wanted to do was talk about his gosh-darn sister. But then… they didn’t know he was one of the Elements’ siblings so… “Well, I’ve heard of them ‘course, but most of them from reputation only, you understand.” Thank goodness he wasn’t a terrible liar like Applejack.

“Wow!” Octavia bounced slightly in her seat, in such a way that seemed at odds with her uptight personality. “But I guess Ponyville isn’t as small as the media makes it sound.”

“Uh, right.” It took him a moment to realize she meant that it wasn’t small enough that everypony would know every other pony.

“So anyway, what did you think of my wubs there, Big Stuff?” Vinyl shook her head, then leaned in towards him.

“I kind of liked that.”. Big Mac smiled slightly at Vinyl, who returned it with a grin. “What did you say that was called? Rubs?”

“The genre is Hip-hop, if that’s what you’re asking,” Octavia answered before Vinyl could. Now it was her turn to sound annoyed. Big Mac wasn’t sure what was going on—it wasn’t like he had much of a chance of understanding how a mare’s mind worked, after all—but he had the sneaking suspicion that it was probably about him. Somehow. Maybe she wasn’t happy that he seemed to like Vinyl’s music more than hers?

“I liked your music too, Ms. Octavia,” Big Mac said, hoping it might defuse the situation. It wasn’t a lie, of course, but Octavia’s just wasn’t his mug of cider. “You both seem like mares who are passionate and all about your music, and uh, it shows.”

“Thank you!” Both mares said exactly the same time, which for some reason caused them to stare daggers at each other.

“…I just wish I could make music like that,” Big Mac added hastily without thinking. He didn’t want to be caught between some sort of catfight between the two ponies.

“Why can’t you?” Octavia sounded surprised, and Vinyl nodded in agreement.

“Well, uh, what I meant was, I’ve never really tried to, I can’t play nothin’, after all.” McIntosh tried to cover up by taking another sip of his drink, only to realize it was empty.

“Well, what about singing?” Octavia asked, “I’d think with such a deep voice like yours, you’d make a lovely baritone in an Opera.”

“Yeah dude, I bet you could belt it out with the best of them,” Vinyl added, as she started to unhook the disc-playing machine. “And don’t worry about training or any of that bull, most artists in my field are self-taught.”

“And it shows,” Octavia snorted.

“Can it!”

“That’s—” For once, his brain caught up with his tongue, and Big Mac found himself thinking about what Vinyl was saying. Maybe the first step to having an adventure is taking risks, he thought to himself. “Are you offerin’?”

Vinyl blinked and looked at him as if she was surprised, and for a second he was sure she was going to turn him down—or brush him off or something like that. Then she smiled like a filly who had gotten an extra slice of cake. “Well, sure! Come by the studio and we’ll hang out, maybe we’ll hit a show or two.”

The unicorn’s enthusiasm was infectious, and McIntosh found himself grinning back. In all likelihood, nothing would come of it, but it was exhilarating to try—and suddenly he couldn’t wait to get to Manehatten. He had always been looking forward to it, of course, but now it just seemed so much more… exciting. At the very least, he’d have a story to tell when he got back to Ponyville. Then Vinyl said something that shocked him.

“It’s a date!”

Chapter 4: Big Mac's Story part 2

When McIntosh had first met Twilight Sparkle several weeks before, his first impression of the mare had been that there was a pony who desperately needed to get laid. Or at the very least, she needed to let her hair down. It wasn’t that Big Mac was any sort of stranger to hard work or something, but he also knew the value of relaxation and taking it easy. Twilight, on the other hand, was walking around with her nose buried in a book and her little dragon friend carrying around a checklist. Lists seemed to be her favourite thing, beside magic.

But he was starting to see the attraction.

Ever since he had made his decision to leave the farm, it seemed that it had been one new thing after another. Big Mac was starting to think he ought to make a list of all the new things he had done, experienced, or seen, if only to keep the whole kit and caboodle straight in his own head.

Besides meeting new ponies and riding the train for the very first time, not to mention stepping into two new cities—Canterlot and Manehatten—in the span of two days, he now apparently had a date. Yikes.

It wasn’t as if Big McIntosh had never been on a date before, although if he was going to be honest with himself, he suspected taking Applejack to several of the school’s dances probably didn’t count as dates, regardless of what Granny had said. There had been one or two other mares too, but nothing really special and he hadn’t really ever gotten a handle on it. Now he was about to go on a date with some strange filly he had practically just met—not counting the train ride, of course—in a strange city. It was enough to make his poor head spin, although he suspected few ponies would realize how much of a panic he was actually experiencing.

The Oranges certainly didn’t know. Mr and Mrs Orange hadn’t exactly been thrilled when he had shown up on their doorstep, although they tried their best to hide it well. Of course, McIntosh couldn’t really complain; it hadn’t been until he was stepping off the train and saying goodbye to the two bickering mares that he realized he hadn’t bothered writing ahead or asking the two of them if he might be able to stay with them. When Applejack had visited, she had made sure they knew well in advance that she’d be coming, but that courtesy had completely slipped his mind. Probably because he didn’t travel too often.

But they were still Apples no matter what name they went by now, and while they might have been less than happy to see him when they answered the door, they hadn’t turned him away. If anything, they had welcomed him with open arms—and they warmed up a bit more once he made it clear he was only going to be in Manehatten temporarily.

Whether they welcomed him as family or not, though, they didn’t exactly know him, and both Oranges had been more interested in ribbing him gently over getting a date so quickly—and apparently with someone so famous—than giving him advice on what to do or how to act. So in the end, and after a great deal of thought, Big Mac had decided the best thing to do was to ‘be himself’.

Big Mac had seen Manehatten before, both from a distance and a few pictures Applejack had taken, saved, and returned from the Big Apple with, but they really didn’t do the place justice. He was used to the fact that he was only of the largest stallions in Ponyville—heck, one of the largest ponies even—but Manehatten made him feel small.

Every building seemed to be huge, made up of concrete and glass, and they all towered over him; even the smallest buildings were bigger than the tallest buildings in Ponyville, and the idea that ponies could live and work in such monstrosities boggled the mind. And of course, it also made finding places a bit more difficult.

Vinyl Scratch had left him an address to meet her at, but in the big city, that had proven to be less than helpful. Eventually though, he had found a friendly enough pony to ask for directions. Although he suspected she was laughing at his accent behind his back, she had pointed him in the right direction, which eventually led him to the right building. It was a lot larger than he had thought it would be, but in truth, he probably should have expected that.

Upon crossing the threshold of the place, though, McIntosh immediately began to regret his decision to ‘be himself’. He stuck out like a worm in an apple.

The first floor, it seemed, was mostly empty, which struck McIntosh as a rather poor use of space, except for the elevators at the back and a kiosk in the middle of the room beyond the doors. Several ponies were sitting and working within the kiosk, apparently directing individuals to where they needed to go. The whole space, however poorly used, was very expensive looking, and every surface gleamed. Not in a harsh way, of course, but in the sort of way that suggested most of the marble walls and columns barely saw any use. He, on the other hoof, was like a lump of coal, despite his attempt to at least make himself look presentable.

Nevertheless, this was the place, and as nervous as he might feel, it just wasn’t right to stand a mare up; it just wasn’t how he was raised. Since Vinyl had only given him the address of the place, it seemed like a good idea to just approach the ponies and ask if they might direct him up to the appropriate floor, although he had a sinking feeling he was going to get lost in the building before too long without a guide.

“Excuse me,” McIntosh said as he approached the desk; thankfully, it wasn’t all that busy—heck, one of them was even doing a crossword rather than her work!

The pony—a secretary, he supposed—glanced at up him with a withering expression, “Yes?”

“I was hopin’ you might be able to direct me to a Miss Vinyl Scratch?” McIntosh rumbled, and smiled nervously. “She’s expectin’ me, ya see and—”

“Nice try fancolt,” The pony snorted dismissively and turned back to her crossword. “I’m so sure she’s expecting you.”

“Eeyup,” It took him a moment to realize that the secretary was being sarcastic rather than serious. “I’m afraid you misunderstand, Miss, she really is expecting me and—”

“Look, I know you think you’re clever stuff, Smart Guy,” the Secretary interrupted him, “but fans try to pull that scam every way from here to Summer Sun. I ain’t—” the mare mimicked his accent “—buyin’ it. So get the hay out before I call security. Understand?”

Big Mac wasn’t sure he did, but after a second of staring at the hard nosed mare, he decided she was probably right. Last thing he wanted to do was get in trouble with the authorities after only being in the city for two days. So with a sigh, he turned around and headed for the door.

Only to stop when somepony tugged on his tail.

It was an unusual sensation, really, mostly because nopony grabbed his tail. More often than not, McIntosh would end up pulling the plough around, or the cart, or any other sort of heavy lifting, so out of habit had typically trimmed it short, even when he wasn’t out ploughing. So there wasn’t really much to grab on to—plus, most ponies knew to respect another pony’s private area, and grabbing such a small tail was kind of cutting it a bit close.

When he glanced over his shoulder to see who was pulling him to a stop, however, all he could see was a light blue aura wrapped around the stub. After a second his eyes shifted further back into the room, looking for the unicorn he knew the aura must belong to.

Vinyl looked much the same as she did on the train, although perhaps a bit perkier, if that was at all possible than before. He suspected it had to do with her getting a couple of good night’s rests after traveling for so long and so far—she had been all over Equestria, apparently, before they had met on the train. The only thing different about her was her glasses, which covered her red eyes. She had shown them to Big Mac before he had left the train, but this was the first time he had seen her wearing them, and he couldn’t help but wonder why she would wear such impractical eyewear; surely, they made everything purple?

“Hey there Big Stuff, where you off to?” Vinyl said playfully as she trotted towards him. After a second her telekinetic grip released his tail, although the aura seemed to brush outwards towards certain…places… before dissipating, making him jump slightly. And making his heart thump. McIntosh took a deep breath before putting on a friendly smile.

“I couldn’t get in, she thought I was a fancolt or somethin’ like that,” Big Mac explained, gesturing towards the stubborn secretary with his hoof. The mare in question had the good sense to look mortified, especially since it turned out he was telling the truth.

“Yeah, Cherry can get a bit testy sometimes,” Vinyl chuckled, “And I thought you were a fancolt?”

Big Mac suspected she meant something else than its intended meaning, but wisely kept his mouth shut. At least on that topic. “Uh, well. Right… so…”

“So! Yes!” Vinyl wrapped her arm around Big Mac and directed him towards the elevators, partly leaning against him for support. “Come on, I want to show you where the magic happens, maybe you’ll give it a go, who knows?”

The recording studio that Vinyl led him to was at least fifteen floors up, and by the time he stepped off the elevator, he found himself probably the highest off the ground that he had ever been, or would ever be again. Not that there were any windows in this part of the building that he could see out of. A small comfort Big Mac was more than happy for.

Given the size of the building, Big Mac would have thought the place would be far more busy than it appeared to be as Vinyl led the way down the hallways towards the studio. On some level it was nice, because it meant he didn’t have to endure the stares of every pony who came across them and marked him as an outsider. On the other hoof, though, it meant the only thing he could focus his eyes on was Vinyl’s behind, since she was walking in front of him, and he suspected she was doing it on purpose.

Halfway to the recording studio, something changed as the tilted floor gave way to carpet. It took him a moment to realize what had changed, but then he realized the sounds—whether it was from his hooves or what not—were gone. He also noticed the walls changed in material too, although he couldn’t place it even after he ran his hoof against a panel.

“Huh?”

“Noticing the sound proofing, eh?” Vinyl asked, and Big Mac turned to see her looking over her shoulder at him. “Neat, ain’t it?”

“Eeyup.” What else could he say?

“Come on, it’s not far.”

Sweet Apple Acres was a pretty low magic place, as was a lot of Ponyville, although ever since the Elements of Harmony saved the town, there was some talk about getting more magical technologies put in place to modernize the town, especially since Celestia’s student was living there now. Big Mac didn’t really have much of an opinion either way, since he doubted they’d make a machine capable of sorting apples for cider or pulling them off the trees, and he hadn’t really bothered to look into it. However, stepping into the recording studio was like stepping into a whole other world.

There were devices everywhere, with knobs and dials and slider-things and all kinds of stuff. It also had a couple of chairs. All the equipment, most of which had small blinking lights everywhere, all seemed to face another room, which Big Mac could see through the big bay window between them. If the first room could be summed up in one word, it would be ‘crowded’. The other room was its complete opposite; besides a microphone and several dangling wires, the room was completely empty.

“This stuff is for recording and remixin’ and whatever,” Vinyl explained, gesturing to consoles and devices scattered around the room. “The music’s made in the other room, though, this is just for editing and adjusting and makin’ it all sound cool.”

Big Mac nodded slowly.

“So anyway, I’ll show you to the other room and we’ll get to work!” Vinyl said cheerfully, smiling as Big Mac’s heart stopped.

He supposed up until now, he hadn’t really believed he was going to do it, or that Vinyl was being serious about her offer. But apparently she was a mare of her word—and he could respect that. Big Mac just wasn’t sure he was a stallion of his word. He had never sung before, not really, and he doubted he was going to find he had a secret talent for singing or whatever now. It certainly wasn’t his cutie mark or anything. Vinyl just smiled warmly at him while he stared rather blankly at her, trying to come up with some sort of excuse for why he’d have to break his word.

“Uh, well, I dunno, Miss. Scratch.” Big Mac forced himself to say after a moment. “I… aren’t really in much of a singin’ mood, see, and…”

Vinyl held up her hoof, and her smile changed slightly. It was hard to explain exactly what had changed about it, but it was if it had become softer, friendlier, or gentle. Or something else. “Big Mac, I know a skittish stallion when I see one. I know you’re nervous, but there’s nothing to it, really. Besides, it’s just me and you and I promise I won’t make fun of you or mock you if it turns out you can’t sing or whatever else.”

“I just don’t know how, or even what to sing if I did,” Big Mac said,

 “You’ll never know if you try,” Vinyl pointed out. Big Mac found a small part of himself agreeing with the mare—well, maybe not a small part—after all, didn’t he come all this way for adventure? For new things? And yet… “Besides,” Vinyl continued, her aura flaring into existence around her horn and a sheet of paper nearby. “I thought you might need some lyrics or whatever, so I took the liberty of writing some stuff out.”

Big Mac blinked and took the paper out of Vinyl’s telekinetic grip with his hoof, pushing aside his doubts as he looked over the sheet. Occasionally he found himself muttering some of them aloud under his breath. “…Apple farmin’… big city pony… uh… mares like to suck my—I can’t say that!” McIntosh stared at Vinyl in disbelief, “If Granny got an earful of my sayin’ any of this, she’d beat my hide blue!”

“Pff,” Vinyl rolled her eyes, “yeah yeah, I get it, family values. They’re only suggestions, you know.” Big Mac thought she sounded a bit hurt—perhaps he had been a little bit too quick to reject these lyrics. Who knew how long it had taken her to write them up?

“I do appreciate it, Miss Scratch,” Big Mac said after a moment’s thought, as he placed the sheet of music back on the pile. “But it’s just not me. I hope I haven’t offended you any…”

“Over lyrics I threw together? Nah!” Vinyl shook her head vigorously. “So I guess that means you’re not going to even try, am I right?”

“Well… to be honest with ya, I’m just not sure I’m ready for it, you know? I’ve only really heard the one song—“ not strictly true, of course, he had listened to a few others on the radio once he figure out how to use the guest room’s alarm clock “—maybe you could show me some more, or somethin’?”

Vinyl’s frown turned into a smirk, “I think I know just the thing.”

**

It was loud, and it was crowded, and it was unlike anything Big Mac had ever experienced before. He liked it.

When Vinyl said she was going to take him to a club, McIntosh had imagined something vastly different. The only club around Ponyville that Big Mac knew about was the country club that Filthy Rich had once or twice invited Applejack and himself to visit, ‘in the spirit of friendship’. Which for Filthy was just a fancy way of saying he wanted to talk business. So the two of them had gone, but in the end he suspected neither of them had enjoyed the experience too much. He certainly hadn’t, and Applejack had a scowl that could take the paint off the barn. It was far too snooty and uptight—moreso than normal. It was a odd place, and Big Mac had never gone back.

This place, however, was nothing like the country club. It was nestled in the heart of Manehatten, in the shadows of some of the largest buildings in what Vinyl kept calling the ‘downtown’. At first Big Mac had thought the place looked rather seedy, or at least the ponies waiting outside of the place in a line up certainly did. But standing in lines didn’t appear to be a problem for Vinyl, who just stepped up to the guard, or bouncer, as she referred to him, and whispered a few words.

Internally, the building was somewhat contrasting; it was huge, with a cleared area in the middle for dancing, and seats and small tables scattered around the edges, but for all its size it felt incredibly small. There seemed to be ponies everywhere, of every colour, height and tribe—Big Mac could even swear he saw what he thought was an pink alicorn dancing with a white stallion at one point, but he was sure it was just a trick of the light.

The lighting was the other contrasting thing about the club; internally, the place seemed to be almost unnaturally dark, far darker than Big Mac thought it ought to be, and darker than he was used to. Even on moonless nights, there was some light. But everywhere he looked, there were lights that cut through it like knives. Many of the ponies were swinging colourful lights around, which he later learned were called glow sticks, or in rings around parts of their bodies. They didn’t give off much light, but the light they did give off made the dance floor almost twilightish. Somehow, he eventually acquired a couple too, although how that happened he wasn’t sure. They just appeared.

The music though, that was what Big Mac was really interested in. He had said he wanted to hear more so he could get a feel for the music. And he did, but he hadn’t really expected it to get so into it.

It wasn’t long before he managed to pick up the basics of what the musicians sang about, and he had a fair idea of the why too. Yet, even with the crush of ponies and the lighting that was starting to give him a headache, McIntosh didn’t really want to leave yet.

“This is excitin’,” he had to lean close to Vinyl’s ear in order for her to hear him over the thumping music. It was so loud and so powerful, sometimes the beats seemed to vibrate inside his chest. “Thank ya kindly for takin’ me out here Miss Scratch.”

“This?” Vinyl shouted back, flicking her ears dismissively. “This is crap! I mean it’s okay, but it’s not a proper party. We haven’t had a real slammin’ party in the city for months. And don’t call me that! I ain’t my mother, you know.”

“Well, I like it anyway.” Big Mac flicked his ears, and wondered if he was going to have to take up cursing if he wanted to see the big wide world. “And yer a mare, ya deserve my respect!

Vinyl flashed him a cocky grin, which McIntosh took to mean she didn’t really agree with that. “Well I’m glad!” She said, choosing to ignore it. “Let’s get a drink, then we’ll hit the dance floor!”

“Drink of what?” Vinyl didn’t answer him, just grabbed his hoof and dragged him—well, tugged really, he doubted the filly could pull him if she tried—through the crowd to what Big Mac thought was probably the densest area of the building. It was absolutely stuffed with ponies. As they drew nearer, he realized it was a bar, of sorts.

It wasn’t the sort of bar he was used to—not that he spent much time in bars to begin with, of course—but this seemed more utilitarian than anything else, with taps and some neon lighting behind the bartenders. The poor ponies seemed overworked, but they all seemed to enjoy their work.

“Yo, bro,” Vinyl shouted as she pushed her way through the bar. “Can I get a couple of drinks over here?”

“Oh hey, DJ Pon3!” The bartender seemed to recognize her, although Mac could tell by the way his eyes slid past him, he didn’t notice him. “Not playin’ tonight?”

“Nah, on a date!” Big Mac blinked. He had thought he was going on a date, but then Vinyl had seemed to be all business, and he had realized—or thought he had—that it was just a turn of phrase. City folk sure were confusing.

“No shit? Well what can I get you?”

“Um,” Vinyl glanced over her shoulder at Big Mac, who put on a big smile. She smiled back, of course… but it was somewhat predatory. “A Grasshopper for me, and a Quick Fuck for my friend.”

“A what?” Big Mac said involuntarily. Unfortunately, his protest was lost over the roaring crowd.

The Bartender nodded and did some work behind the bar, his aura glowing a bright red in the darkness as he mixed the drinks. A couple of seconds later, Vinyl had the drinks and turned back to Big Mac with a grin on her face—he suddenly suspected she had heard him—and passed him the drink.

He decided not to press her on the drink’s names.

The drink itself looked creamy, and maybe it did—it certainly didn’t look or smell like cider. Oddly, the liquids in the drink were distinct layers, rather than actually mixed. Cautiously, he took a sip.

“No no, you drink it all in one go!” Vinyl said, before demonstrating by throwing her head back and gulping it in one go. She swallowed and then slammed the glass back on the bar’s counter. Big Mac eyed the drink skeptically before shrugging and tossing it back in the same fashion.

Vinyl laughed as he gagged and sputtered. It wasn’t just unusually flavoured, it was also a heck of a lot stronger than he was used to, and the mixed flavours slid down his throat in an unusual way. When he finished half choking to death though, he had to admit it tasted alright, even if it was a bit strong for his tastes. After a few moments, he started to feel a bit buzzed.

“Great! Let’s hit the floor!” Vinyl didn’t wait for him to respond before dragging him into the crush of ponies in the middle of the club.

While Big Mac had found himself doing many new things on his ‘adventure’ so far, dancing actually wasn’t one of them. While he didn’t necessarily dance often, he knew how, if only because his parents had insisted he learn—an Apple family tradition, both for social reasons, and for work reasons. Made bucking trees a lot more graceful and all. Of course, the dancing being done in the club was a far cry from square dancing or jigs or whatever, but he caught on quick enough.

It was far more primal, and raw, and really, the only word that came to mind was ‘sexual’. At first it made him blush, moving his body like that but it didn’t take long before his blush to disappear and the music and beats to take control.

After a few songs, Vinyl decided they needed a couple more drinks—and by the third one he was managing to swallow it without gagging at all. That amused Vinyl to no end, although he couldn’t figure out why. Then it was back on the dance floor. Then back for drinks.

The pattern repeated itself most of the night, to the point where Big Mac was starting to wonder when the club closed. At no point did the crowd seemed to lessen, although it always seemed to be changing. Still, it was amazing fun and he was glad he came.

Then Vinyl kissed him.

He had thought she was just leaning in to ask himself, but at the last second her lips changed direction from his ear to his lips, and the next thing he knew he was kissing her.

Her lips were soft and warm, and she seemed to be almost as surprised as he was… and she was even more surprised when he pulled her close, and took the kiss a step further. He could taste the shots she had taken over the course of the night, which made the kiss interesting, in a good way.

Big Mac wasn’t completely sure how long they kissed, but when they parted both of them were panting, although none of the other club goes seemed to notice them making out in the middle of the dance floor. They had their own dates and friends, he supposed.

“Huh,” Vinyl said breathily, “that was… huh.”

“Eeyup.” What else was he going to say? Then he was struck with a sudden worry. “Was it good?” He hadn’t expected that sort of reaction from the mare. Although truthfully, he wasn’t sure he had ever thought about it.

“Y-yeah. Yeah of course.” Vinyl paused and looked at something over her shoulder, for some reason. “Look, do. Do… do you want to go back to my place?” Vinyl’s face was a bit flushed, which showed through her white fur easily, and Big Mac felt rather hot too—in the back of his mind, he noted that both of them were rather drunk.

“It wouldn’t be polite,” Big Mac said with a grin, “to tease a lady such as you.”

**

Big Mac had no idea where he was. Well, that wasn’t completely true; he was in somepony’s bedroom, of course, since he was in a bed, and glancing out the window he could tell he was still in Manehatten, apparently a far ways up in one of the taller buildings in the city. The bedroom itself was, he supposed, nicely decorated, although he really wasn’t one to judge such things since he really had no talent for it. However it was decorated though, it wasn’t the sort of mundane decorations that one might find in a hotel; rather, they seemed much more personal and homely. This was somepony’s home, and it wasn’t his.

Although in truth he had a bit of trouble taking in the decorations, given he was squinting against the light. It wasn’t the first time he had gotten himself a hangover, but it was never a pleasant experience when it happened. Still, he got the impression that this was somepony’s bedroom.

It was probably Vinyl’s though, since she was next to him on the bed, curled up and sleeping soundly, at least by Big Mac’s estimation. She was clearly not the type of mare who woke up before the crack of dawn. Probably wasn’t necessary in the big city.

Of course, the fact that he had spent the night in bed with her was probably a bigger problem than trying to figure out where he was—or if the Oranges had missed him.

Problem… wasn’t the right word, though. Big Mac laid his ears back against his skull, and tried to think—it wasn’t so easy with the pounding headache distracting him.

Last night was sort of hazy to him; he hadn’t blacked out, at least not in the traditional sense, he knew more or less what had happened; it was the fact that it had happened that bothered him… and the fact that it didn’t bother him as much as he felt it should. Growing up, Pa had always made sure to instil a certain sort of attitude in Big Mac when it came to mares, and ponies in general. Part of that was being in an actual relationship with a pony before you bedded her—although granted his father had passed away before McIntosh had been old enough for that particular lesson. He knew some—well, if he was going to be honest with himself, most—of the other stallions his age around Ponyville didn’t share the same sorts of views.

Carmel was always going on about whom he had lain with most recently, and Timeturner seemed to be a real mare’s stallion. Big Mac listened, of course, he was always listening, even when he didn’t want to. It was just plain polite to do so, regardless of what he might think of such careless attitudes. He did his best not to judge, because that wasn’t very respectful either or right of him, but the idea of meeting a pony and then getting into bed with them—especially so soon after meeting them—always felt kind of wrong to him.

Yet here he was, in bed with a unicorn he had met on a train a few days ago. What in the world was he thinking? But more importantly, why did he feel content? Big Mac thought he would have felt ashamed, or bad, or something like that… but he didn’t.

Maybe it was because for what felt like the first time in his life, he was… letting himself hang loose. To do things he normally would never do. They probably wouldn’t call it adventure if it was commonplace, after all, and while most of his male friends wouldn’t call it such, it felt like it to him.

If only he could have an adventure without feeling rotten afterward!

Big Mac’s stomach heaved like a wave, and for a brief moment it felt like he was going to vomit all over the bed—which was unlikely to be considered good manners even in this crazy city. Once his nausea had retreated back to a more tolerable sensation, McIntosh carefully slid out of bed, doing his best to keep the number of moments necessary as minimal as possible, as he headed to the washroom.

Even though he didn’t really know the place’s layout, the bedroom had its own small washroom connected right to it, so it wasn’t particularly hard to find. On the other hoof, he didn’t want to wake Vinyl up either, so he did his best to be quiet. As quiet as a big stallion with a splitting headache could be, anyway.

He felt better, although not by a great deal, once he had splashed some water on his face. Of course, then his bladder demanded his attention, and so on. He didn’t think he had taken that long, but when he opened the washroom’s door, to his surprise Vinyl was awake—and apparently writing in her diary. Or else she was defacing a book for no particular reason.

“Well good mornin’.” Big Mac tried to smile, but the sound of his own voice grated in his ears, so it came out more as a grimace—hopefully she wouldn’t take it the wrong way. He hated hangovers.

Vinyl opened her mouth to say something as her magic set aside her book and quill, but then she seemed to think better of it—which he was grateful for. Then she rolled out of bed with a grace Big Mac admired despite the pain behind his eyes, and trotted over to him. She paused in front of him, before she bent forward and poked him in the forehead with her glowing horn.

It didn’t really hurt, to be honest, but it seemed rather strange to tap him with her horn—but as he took a step backwards, Big Mac felt what he could only describe as a snapping sensation, like a rope being pulled taunt. His headache vanished, along with his upset stomach. After a second the room’s light seemed to lose its painful intensity and suddenly he felt completely refreshed.

Although he did have an unusually strong hankering for coffee.

“There.” Vinyl nodded, then leaned in to kiss him softly on his lips; it wasn’t the same passionate, hungry sort of kissing he had experienced last night—it was far more intimate and personal. “Feeling better?”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac nodded—clearly it was some sort of spell, and a darn useful one too. He hadn’t much experience with unicorn magic, to be honest, since Ponyville was mostly an earth pony town where unicorns were a minority. The ones they did have didn’t seem to do much in the way of magic, although that was starting to change now that Twilight was living there.

“Good! And good morning to you too, Big Stuff,” her emphasis on the last word brought a blush to his cheeks, although it probably wasn’t visible under his coat. “Have fun last night?”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac repeated himself, which probably wasn’t the best idea. “I can’t say I’ve ever…”

“What? You weren’t a virgin, were you?” Vinyl snorted as she returned to her bed, flicking her tail in a rather pleasant way.

“N-no,” Big Mac’s eyes went a bit wide with surprise, then shook his head resolutely. Well, not a complete virgin anyway. “I was sayin’, I ain’t done a lot of that before—by which I mean, you know…” He gestured helplessly in the air with his hoof, “I’m not one to jump into bed with somepony I just met.”

“Oho? Calling me easy, are you?” Vinyl grinned playfully as she rolled into bed, her tail flicked aside. Big Mac gulped nervously.

“Nope,” he said finally, after a brief struggle with his emotions and his body. “I’m just… glad, I guess. It was freein’.”

“I’m not sure what you mean, but okay,” Vinyl’s grin slipped a bit, not into a frown, but into something more thoughtful.

“I just…” Big Mac tried to put his thoughts in order, to figure out how to describe the last few days in a coherent way. “Back in Ponyville, I wouldn’t have gone on a date with a mare I just met, and I wouldn’t have gone to a club and danced and drank like that. It was different. And good.”

“Don’t forget the fucking!” Vinyl added with a laugh. “But I’m glad you liked it. So, what’s the plan for today, Big Stuff?”

“That too,” Big Mac felt himself smirk as his eyes roamed over Vinyl’s body. She noticed, of course, and smirked back. “Well, I can think of somethin’ I’d like to do… or someone...” Even as he said it though, a certain thought from earlier popped up in his mind, demanding his attention. “But I suppose I really ought to check in with my aunt and uncle; they’re probably worried about me, since I’ve been gone so long.”

“Pff,” Vinyl blew a raspberry and shifted in the bed so she was on her back. “You sure, Mr. Responsible?” She wiggled her hips.

“I… well, I guess…uh,” Big Mac felt his thoughts growing a bit sluggish, and a certain pressure growing between his legs. “I suppose another hour or two won’t matter too much…”

Big Mac hadn’t always been big, but ever since he was a young colt, he had been bigger than most of his fellow ponies of the same age. By the time he grew into a stallion, he was almost always was the biggest pony in the room. Only a few ponies, like the Princess—Princesses he supposed now—were taller, and few were as heavily muscled. To say he was strong was a bit of an understatement. But being strong didn’t always mean he moved with the greatest grace, and McIntosh took a great deal of took great pains to move carefully, lest he hurt somepony or break something. He did his best not to move aggressively.

This was not one of those times.

Big Mac crossed the intervening space between the two of them, and bent down to Vinyl’s cutie mark, nipping at it a couple of times and eliciting a groan of pleasure from the unicorn. Not surprisingly, her cutie mark was a musical note of some sort, and in short order, he bit both lobes of the notes and smirked. Most ponies’ cutie marks weren’t particularly sensitive… but Vinyl’s was, as he had discovered last night. No point in letting such useful information go to waste, after all.

He nipped a couple of more times before nuzzling the cheek and then slowly kissing and nuzzling his way along the mare’s sides, occasionally pausing to give her another nip. Every time he did, her tail would flicker, which made him chuckle. And turned him on.

It wasn’t long before his member was swaying against his legs as he half-stood, half-sat beside the bed. It didn’t escape Vinyl’s notice, and as he was kissing along her neck, her hoof reached out and rubbed along his length gently, stroking it. He had been expecting that—what he hadn’t been expecting was for her horn to flare into existence and feel his balls suddenly caressed.

It was hard to describe the sensation; he rarely been touched by a unicorn’s aura, and one had certainly never fondled him, but it felt like equal parts softness and steel. It was feather-soft as she held his balls, but it was too smooth, and there was a certain unyielding quality to it he couldn’t describe properly. It felt incredibly exotic, though, and his whole body twitched as he let out a groan.

Vinyl grinned and took her hoof away from his cock, wrapping her forelegs around his neck and pulling him into a kiss, all while her magic teased him mercilessly. Her mouth was so soft and warm, and their tongues ran up against each and slid around, embracing in their own fashion.

As they kissed, Big Mac felt Vinyl’s focus slide off his balls, rubbing and pressing lightly against the skin above them. And then—

Big Mac let out a strangled gasp and broke the kiss as Vinyl stroked against his anus. His reaction must have startled her too because the feather-soft steel vanished immediately. He had never been touched there, not like that, and certainly not by someone he was with… of course most ponies couldn’t reach that spot of him either. He couldn’t help but frown a bit.

“Err, sorry,” Vinyl half-smiled and shrugged between his hooves. “Some ponies like it… I guess others don’t.”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac grunted out; shocked or not, the sudden touch had hardened him the rest of the way up, with his cock throbbing with an almost painful intensity. “It, uh, mostly surprised me, I guess.”

“O-oh?” Vinyl’s smile grew a bit brighter, and her horn’s corona erupted again. “Maybe you’d like some more, then?”

McIntosh hesitated for a moment; his first instinct was to say no, but then… He looked down at her smiling, keen face, and sighed. “Give me a second.” Vinyl flashed him a grin and met his kiss eagerly. Big Mac savoured the sensation for a moment, licking his and her lips, before waddling back behind Vinyl. “Just be gentle.”

“Like a breeze on a summer’s day. No worries, bud...” Vinyl smiled, and suddenly the sensation returned. Not all at once, and not… there. It started on his dock, and rubbed that sensitive area for a couple of seconds, before drifting slowly downward.

He couldn’t help but shiver a bit, but he didn’t want to leave his mare out of the loop either, so gathering his focus, he steeled himself against her strokes, and bent down towards Vinyl’s own behind.

Clearly, she had anticipated what he was going to do, since her tail was flicked all the way off to the side, leaving herself uncovered and totally exposed to his gaze. And tongue. Big Mac grinned a little and admired her body for a moment—before Vinyl wiggled her ass impatiently

“Well?” Her voice carried the certain frustrated tones only a mare in need could make.

She certainly looked needy, the way her pussy glistened. No point in being rude, he supposed. Big Mac exhaled on the delicate and damp flesh, before pressing his nose against it and nuzzling, drinking her scent in. Oh yes, McIntosh thought as his member twitched with pleasure. Then he tilted his head slightly to get a better angle and thrust his tongue into her body.

Vinyl half-flinched, half-squirmed and Big Mac’s ears twitched as he heard her groan with wordless pleasure. As she writhed, he felt a certain pride and happiness fill up his chest. It felt good making her feel good. He almost forgot about her magic.

He had to give the mare credit; even as his tongue wormed in and around her pussy, teasing her here and there, she managed to keep her concentration, and Big Mac could feel her touch sliding down his ass, moving towards his pucker. As she reached it, he took a deep breath and waited.

Even though he knew to expect it, it still made him jump a little, making Vinyl pause again, watching him from down her flank. He caught her eye and nodded, and she continued. Her aura wormed against his hole, squirming and rubbing and stroking… it felt surprisingly good, if almost too intense. Big Mac enjoyed it for a moment, before flicking his ears and returning—or tried to—return his focus to pleasuring Vinyl.

It took him a moment to find her clitoris. It was soft, but firm, and as he swiped his tongue over it Vinyl let out an almost pained moan and her leg muscles tensed up and twitched for a brief moment before relaxing. Obviously he’d have to be gentle, but he could do gentle. Pursing his lips, he wrapped them around the nub and gently suckled on it.

Of course, he had forgotten that Vinyl’s telekinesis wasn’t limited to a single point, and as Vinyl half kicked uselessly—thankfully nowhere near his face—he felt another feather-soft touch, this time wrapping around the base of his cock. It held still, but only for a moment, and then began sliding up along his member towards the head. All while her other aura wormed against his tight pucker, and slowly forced its way into him.

He was getting close, there was really no question about it; he could feel the pleasure growing, and his balls started to draw up closer to his body. Involuntarily, he let out a groan and tried to hold back. It didn’t work.

With a defeated moan, McIntosh felt himself go over the edge, his cock throbbing in Vinyl’s magical grip and his hole clenching down on her other focal point as he came. After the last night, it wasn’t a whole lot he supposed, but he still splattered a couple of thick lines of jizz onto the floor in at the foot of the bed. He hoped Vinyl had a way of cleaning the carpet; otherwise, he had rather ruined it.

Big Mac leaned against her flank, resting his head on her cutie mark as he panted and smiled at her. Vinyl wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, and smirked back. Well, spent or not, that wasn’t going to stop his tongue. He might not always be the best at speaking, but he could pull this off.

Gripping her clit with his lips carefully, he flicked his tongue over its tip and suckled gently, and after a moment’s thought raised his hoof and started rubbing between her thighs and teats. Big Mac wasn’t sure if most mares liked that, but Vinyl certainly did—so much so that a couple of moments later she finally released as well.

It wasn’t as nearly as exciting or dramatic as his orgasm, of course, but it was beautiful and erotic to watch in its own right. Her body tensed and quivered as she closed her eyes and let out something between a whinny and a low cooing sound. She shuddered and went limp after a few moments with a half-satisfied look on her face.

“I almost want to wrap my hooves around you and make you eat me out all mornin’ Big Stuff. I didn’t realize you were so skilled with your tongue.” Vinyl murmured with a smirk. Before Big Mac could comment, she rolled onto her back so her legs were up in the air and draped them over his shoulders, putting his nose more or less at the base of her teats with her legs on either side.

Shyly, Big Mac drew his tongue up between them, making Vinyl quiver slightly.

“But… I can’t,” Vinyl sighed heavily and spread her legs wide, letting him go. She was right of course, even if he didn’t need to check in with his aunt and uncle, neither of them had eaten recently, and breakfast awaited them. Still, he kissed her thighs before standing up, only slightly wobbly.

“Uh, sorry about…” Big Mac’s voice trailed off as Vinyl waved her hoof dismissively, and got out of bed herself. “I’d better shower, I guess. Uh,” Big Mac smiled sheepishly, “which way?”

**

Vinyl had asked him to meet her at a restaurant once he had checked in with his Aunt and Uncle, and privately Big Mac was glad. Not simply because he was going to get to spend more time with the unicorn, but because they’d be eating lunch at a restaurant.

Because frankly, the mare couldn’t cook to save her life. McIntosh would never tell her so, but the fact that the eggs she had insisted on making for breakfast had came out looking like the burnt-out ruins of a barn had scared him a little bit. In the future, he was going to have to insist on doing the cooking, he reckoned, or else he was going to starve to death.

Even though he had been gone a fairly lengthily amount of time, neither of the Oranges appeared to be overly surprised or worried that he hadn’t spent the night at their place. In fact, Uncle Orange had given him a wink that suggested he knew exactly what had happened. At least he hadn’t done something embarrassing like congratulating him or some foolery. Thankfully neither of them pressed him beyond that—nor were they particularly unhappy that he was probably going to spend the rest of the day with her, either.

On some level, Big Mac suspected that the two Oranges were glad he wasn’t hanging around the place, cramping their style. He knew full well he didn’t exactly fit into the high society that they liked to frequent, and unlike Applejack,he had no intent or interest in trying to do so.

Regardless, the Oranges had been more than helpful in directing him towards where he needed to be for his meeting with Vinyl. She had asked him to meet her at a restaurant in the Lower East Side of Manehatten, and Big Mac hadn’t been sure where that was supposed to be—and he had felt embarrassed to ask Vinyl.

If he hadn’t followed their instructions to the word, and had any reason to doubt their knowledge of the city, he would have assumed he was in the wrong place. The Lower East Side didn’t appear to be any lower than any other part of the city, and he couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out how it had come by the name. Still, once he started passing the upscale restaurants and shops, he suspected he was in the right place.

His suspicions were confirmed when he found Vinyl sitting at one of the outdoor tables outside of a place called Foin Coûteux. Big Mac caught her eye and hurried over to sit down at the table with her.

“I was wondering when you’d get here,” Vinyl said, then snorted as his face fell. “I’m only joking, you’re early, Big Stuff.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he moved on the obvious; “should we order, Ms Scratch?”

“Really?” Vinyl said flatly, but Big Mac could tell from the twinkle in her eye that she was playacting. He hoped. “After last night, you’re still going to call me that? Or this morning? Just call me Vinyl, Big Stuff.”

“I suppose, but…” McIntosh shrugged, “Shall we order M—Vinyl?” Briefly he flirted with the idea of coming up with some sort of nickname for the mare, but nothing came to mind. Plus, he suspected he’d lose any sort of verbal sparring, so it was probably wiser just to stay away.

“Actually I’m waiting for someone else,” Vinyl said, glancing over her shoulder—then over Big Mac’s, looking up and down the street. He couldn’t help but feel a small twinge of disappointment, but then immediately felt guilty; he couldn’t expect Vinyl to spend all her time with him, after all. “Oh there she is!” She exclaimed, cutting into his thoughts as she stood up and waved her forelegs in the air. Following her eyes, Big Mac saw the pony in question—Octavia.

“Oh here you are,” Octavia commented as she approached the table; the one they were sitting at only had two seats, so Big Mac got up and offered his to the earth pony before borrowing one from one of the unoccupied tables. He caught Vinyl rolling her eyes—he was glad she hadn’t worn those goggles today—but he didn’t care, it was only polite. And he got to sit a bit closer to her.

“Thank you, Mr. Apple,” Octavia flashed him a smile before sitting down opposite, before turning her focus onto Vinyl. “When you said ‘meet me at that fancy Pranch restaurant in the Lower East, I thought you meant an actual restaurant, not—” Octavia gestured to the storefront with her hoof “—this place.”

“What, it’s fancy!” Vinyl protested.

He was inclined to agree with her, since it certainly seemed fancy, but then Big Mac could hardly judge.

“Whatever,” Octavia said, then her stomach rumbled loudly, causing the mare to blush and Vinyl to smirk. “Let’s just get something to eat.”

Octavia wasn’t the only pony who was ravenously hungry, so they exchanged only meaningless small talk while they waited for the food to arrive and while they ate it. Since he hadn’t had much in the way of breakfast, Big Mac couldn’t help but be disappointed with how small the portions were, especially given the price of the hay; but it wasn’t like he could order a second—or third—helping without straining his budget.

“Alright, Vinyl, why did you want to meet me,” Octavia said as she dabbed her lips with a napkin. “You’ve wined and dined me—sort of—so I assume you wanted me here?”

“Tavi, Tavi, Tavi,” Vinyl said softly, shaking her hoof at her, “So suspicious!”

Octavia just stared at the unicorn with a neutral expression. Or mostly neutral—Big Mac thought he detected a hint of irritation in the way her ears twitched. Of course, now that Octavia had brought it up, he found himself rather curious too—Vinyl hadn’t mentioned she’d be inviting somepony else.

“Okay okay, I just wanted to say… Big Mac really lives up to his name, if you know what I mean.” Vinyl’s grinned at Octavia—and by extension McIntosh—in a lecherous fashion. “As I found out last night and again this morning!”

Despite his red coat, he was sure everypony who glanced at him just then would have seen his blush—and everypony within earshot had overheard her comments. Granted, it probably shouldn’t surprise him that mares gossiped about that sort of stuff like stallions did. But right in front of him? Big Mac wanted to sink right into the ground. Later, he decided, I’m going to have to ask her to be a bit more discreet. Hopefully she wouldn’t just laugh him off.

If Octavia was shocked or perturbed by Vinyl’s comment, she certainly didn’t show it. In fact, she looked almost bored. After a second though, she did glance over at him and gave McIntosh something between a sympathetic look and a smirk. Perhaps Vinyl’s uptight friend wasn’t as uptight as she seemed.

“Well, if that’s all…” the earth pony mare turned her attention back to Vinyl as she moved to get up. “As much as I’m sure I’d enjoy your recounting of your night, I have things to do, Vinyl. I can’t sleep all day like you do.”

“Calm down, girl,” Vinyl leapt to her hooves and made as if to push Octavia back into her seat, but Octavia beat her to it. Big Mac was starting to wonder how much of the two mares’ sniping friendship—or whatever it was—was based on mutual playacting. It gave him something to think about, at least.

“Look, I was checking the timetable, and I saw you’ve got a bunch of slots booked for the next couple of weeks,” Vinyl continued, “I was hoping you might be willing to swap one or two of them with me.”

“Didn’t you have a session yesterday?” Octavia’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Vinyl. “I need time to record too, you know.”

“Yeah I know,” Vinyl sighed and reached over, pulling McIntosh off balance and into a hug of sorts, “I wanted to record a song with Big Stuff here, but he got cold hooves so it didn’t go anywhere… then… you know how things go. So I figure, maybe we’d give it another try?”

Truthfully, Big Mac had almost completely forgotten about that whole thing. He still wasn’t sure he wanted to even try, although after listening to the music in the club last night, he thought he had a much better understanding of the genre. But still… he wasn’t a musician—his cutie mark certainly didn’t lie in that direction and his skill with instruments was rudimentary at best. He wish he knew why Vinyl was so keen on getting him to try.

“Yes, imagine that,” Octavia said sarcastically, “you take a pony with no musical experience or talent—” Octavia’s cheeks coloured slightly as she glanced at Big Mac, “—err, no offense, Mr. Apple, um.”

Big Mac just waved her concern for his feelings waved off her concern and let her continue.

“—and expect him to record a song.” Octavia rolled her eyes. “Sometimes I think that horn of yours sucks up all the blood from your brain.”

“Whoa, hey now—”

“Maybe Octavia’s right, Vinyl,” Big Mac interrupted. Normally he wouldn’t, but he did feel like he should speak up, rude or not. “I mean, I appreciate it and all, but I wouldn’t know a saxophone from a tuba. Not my special talent, after all.”

“So?” Vinyl poked her hoof at his barrel. “How do you know you’d be no good? You never even gave it a try.” Big Mac flicked his ears; that was certainly true. “And didn’t you say this morning you found yourself enjoying new things?” he flicked his ears again and tried to resist looking down at his bare plate. That was also true. “I’m not saying you have to… I mean, if you don’t want to, that’s fine too, but…” Vinyl bit her lip and looked at him with a pleading expression. Darn it. He didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in Celestia’s bright sun with her face like that.

“I… suppose that’s all right, Vinyl, but you…you heard Octavia, she needs that time, too,” Big Mac’s voice grew more confident as he saw the loophole. It wouldn’t save him forever, of course, but, maybe if he delayed it, Vinyl might drop the subject… “That ain’t fair to her, and I don’t want to stop her from recordin’ her own music.”

Vinyl looked crestfallen, which only made Big Mac feel guilty—before Octavia spoke up.

“I suppose I could trade one of my later bookings, if it means that much to you,” She said.

McIntosh bit off an oath before it could escape his lips.

“What? Really?” Vinyl’s whole face lit up and she clapped her hooves like a filly. “Oh thank you Tavi—I mean Octavia!”

“On one condition,” Octavia interrupted, turning to face him. “Big Mac, do you really want to do this? It’s a lot of work, and it’s not always easy.”

His first instinct was to say no, because deep down, all Big Mac could feel was doubt and uncertainty. Regardless of Vinyl’s wishes, and however cute or pouty her lip might be as she begged him to give it a try, all he could think about was how he was getting tongue-tied and tripping over himself to say the simplest of things. Somehow, he doubted he could get away with saying ‘eeyup’ or ‘nnope’ a few hundred times on a track.

And yet he liked the music, he liked the sound of it, the feel of it… part of him was curious—how would it feel like to not merely be the listener of the music, but its creator, its source? Would it be like watching an apple tree grow from the tiniest seed? Or something else completely? Thinking back to last night, before he started drinking and losing himself in the music and Vinyl, he remembered feeling a certain connection to the it, if he listened to the lyrics and thought about what they meant.

There was a lot of anger, a lot of unhappiness and… frustration, it seemed, at the base of the music, and if he was being honest with himself, a lot of that was why he was there inManehatten at all. Of course, a lot of it just seemed to be fairly meaningless dance music too but, but he wasn’t judging those artists.

“Uh, Big Stuff?” Vinyl poked him in his shoulder, bringing him out of his thoughts. “You okay there, bro?”

“Eeyup,” Without thinking he bent forward and nuzzled Vinyl’s cheek—and when his brain caught up with the rest of him, he blushed slightly. She was blushing too, and for some reason looked slightly embarrassed. Glancing over at Octavia, he gave his answer, “I guess so, Ms Octavia, but I’d be lyin’ if I didn’t honestly tell you I don’t know much about music. Of any sort.”

“It’s easier than it looks,” Octavia said with a smirk.

“Plus I’m more than willing to help you out there, Big Stuff,” Vinyl added, “lyrics, sheets, you name it.”

“Since I’m giving up my slot, I might as well try and help you too,” Octavia offered, “granted, there’s not a whole lot I—we—can teach you in a week or so, but, well…”

“That’s what the mixing equipment is for!” Vinyl said with a laugh, although Big Mac wasn’t sure what she meant by that.

He had the sudden feeling he was going to regret this.

Chapter 5: Big Mac's Story part 3

Octavia may have been skeptical as to how much ‘music’ the two mares could teach him, but that certainly didn’t stop the pair from trying. By the time the end of the week rolled around, Big Mac had a whole new appreciation for musicians and the work they did. He had never imagined how much work and effort was put into making the various songs or playing instruments, and he suspected that even after all the work Vinyl and Octavia had put him through, he was barely scratching the surface of it.

It made him feel guilty for never dropping a few bits into that minty-green coated mare who played the harp back in Ponyville. Lyra, he thought her name was. Every time he went to the market—about twice a week—the pony would be there somewhere, playing her harp, with a can or hat on the ground next to her for ponies passing by to toss a few coins into, to show their appreciation, or so Big Mac understood it.  Yet he never had, even though he listened to it all the same, which made him feel a bit guilty, given he now how much time and effort she had probably put into learning on how to play something like that. It wasn’t her only source of income, though, since Big Mac knew when she wasn’t playing out in public like that, she was performing at events, but still… If he ever went back to Ponyville, he promised himself to throw a few bits into her hat the next time he saw he playing. Maybe give her an apple or something too.

Of course, Lyra probably had a significant edge over Big Mac in that her special talent was in music making, and perhaps she didn’t have to work nearly as hard at learning the stuff as he did. Neither Vinyl nor Octavia seemed to have to put much effort into their playing, even when they were picking up something completely new they had never played before. Or, at least, he assumed Vinyl had never played the big wooden instrument Octavia played before, but she didn’t seem to do half bad on it. And he had trouble imagining Octavia being a regular user of the studio’s mixing equipment, although she didn’t have much trouble doing so.

Thankfully, neither of them really expected him to play an instrument, rather focusing on the one aspect that the two mares agreed was his best; his voice—although Vinyl kept insinuating it was something else. By the end of the second day, he was beginning to think she just liked to see him blush and act bashful. Not that there wasn’t plenty of that; Big Mac found singing, or trying to at least, painfully embarrassing.

He didn’t sing, as a matter of rule, and he had never really tried to either. The whole thing felt downright weird, and at first he did everything he could to avoid opening his mouth and abusing the ears of his fellow ponies. Eventually, though, one night halfway through the week, Vinyl convinced him to at least try. Truthfully, there was no avoiding it—he’d have to sing if he was going to follow through on what he had promised Vinyl—but it was a bit easier since the two of them were alone and she was promising certain... things if he did. Of course, Big Mac strongly suspected she would have done them anyway, but that wasn’t the point.

So, he sang, at least a little bit. He thought was terrible, but Vinyl loved it, so he sang a bit more.

It wasn’t much more than a few lines from an old country ditty his Papa used to sing while he working and Big Mac was a colt, but by the time he finished, he could tell from the look in Vinyl’s eyes that his fate had been sealed. Whether he wanted to or not, he was going to sing, and she was going to record it.

The biggest thing standing in the way of that, though, was the fact that Big Mac didn’t have anything to sing, which meant writing his own music. A huge challenge, and one only made bearable because Vinyl was giving him so much help. By the time they finished, he suspected most of his contributions to the lyrics were primarily suggestions and she had done all the work. Not that she seemed to mind.

At least he was able to convince her to keep the lyrics more or less clean—although he had to double check them just to be sure, since he had caught her once or twice inserting lines about… things. It wasn’t that he necessarily disagreed with what she was saying, but he didn’t really think his opinion about Vinyl’s flanks really belonged in the lyrics. Regardless of how much Vinyl insisted it was ‘okay’ and ‘everypony was doing it’. It was the principle of the thing and he wasn’t having any of it.

Besides, he’d like to be able to show his face around Ponyville when this was all over.

The recording studio wasn’t any less intimidating the second time around, although getting through the lobby was a lot easier with Vinyl by his side. It wasn’t as if they spent every hour together, of course, but truthfully he had only spent a couple of nights at his Aunt and Uncle’s place, and he was beginning to suspect if his belongings weren’t there, he wouldn’t visit them at all. Still, it had its advantages, like not having the secretaries harass him, and its perks, like getting to watch Vinyl’s behind as she stepped out in front to lead the way.

Big Mac wasn’t wholly familiar with the building, of course, but he was pretty sure they had gone to a different floor the first time around, although it stood to reason that there was more than one recording studio in the place. Unlike before, though, the halls were relatively crowded with ponies going about their business; almost all of them had some sort of music related cutie mark, either it was notation—as he had learned Vinyl’s was—or recording equipment, like microphones or… things.

Most of them ignored him, though, but they did stop Vinyl on occasion and engage her in some short discussion. It wasn’t necessarily wrong, but he was already kind of nervous and feeling a bit sick to his stomach, and the longer the wait, the worse he was starting to feel.

Finally, they arrived.

“Where’s Octavia?” Big Mac blurted out as Vinyl ushered him into the recording studio. It wasn’t that he minded the mare—although he could do without the pair of them fighting like schoolyard fillies all the time—but he wanted to get it over with before he chickened out again. The studio itself looked like the one from before, although this one had a slight scent of dried coffee, which made him think he ought to be careful where he put his behind down. Somepony probably spilled their drink and never cleaned it up, and the last thing he wanted was to get sticky.

“Calm down Big Stuff,” Vinyl said, resting her hoof against his shoulder. Big Mac flicked his ears and tried to calm himself—he hadn’t expected his discomfort to be so readily noticeable. “She’s in there,” Vinyl pointed to the room beyond the glass, and realized Octavia was on the other side, fiddling with the microphone. She caught his eye and waved, before mouthing something and tapping the headphones she wore over her ears.

Vinyl snorted and passed him one of the several sets of headphones in the room, then put a pair on herself and flicked a switch on the smaller microphone that stood out from the middle of the equipment’s control panel. “Hey there Tavi,” she said, “how’s it looking?”

Big Mac had to scramble to get his headphones on so he could hear the rest of the earth pony mare’s response.

“—ow are you feeling Mr Apple?” Octavia said, now looking through the glass at him. Vinyl must have heard it too, since she shuffled aside so he could use her microphone—although not so far that his side didn’t brush against hers.

It took him a couple of seconds to figure out how to toggle it right, which only made him more nervous—if he couldn’t flip a simple switch, how was he going to do this? “I… I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was a bit nervous, Miss Melody.” He opened his mouth to continue, then thought better of it.

“You’ll be fine, Mr. App—Big Mac,” Big Mac blinked, all the time he had known the mare, she had been very formal, which was fine by him of course. Perhaps she was trying to be friendlier. “Vinyl and I will be there to help you if you stumble, and everyone makes mistakes, even us.” Octavia’s gaze turned on Vinyl, and Big Mac got the impression she was daring the unicorn to disagree with her.

“Like I’ve said, you’ve got a great voice,” Vinyl commented, pressing a button at the base of the second microphone—he would have expected her voice to echo, since they were in the same room, but apparently the headphones cancelled noise just like the walls did. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m ready in here, if you’d be so kind as to show Big Mac over?” Octavia asked, before pulling off her headphones, apparently not interested to see if either of them weren’t ready. Big Mac took another slow breath, and followed Vinyl a bit further down the hall.

Sitting in the recording room, with the sheets of his lyrics clutched to his chest and sitting on a sort-of-comfortable seat, was a different experience, mostly because he had never stood up in front of ponies and… spoke, or performed or anything. Everything about the stark room screamed ‘you’re the center of attention’ to him, and it wasn’t a comfortable sensation.

 Octavia showed him how to work everything, or, in other words, how to turn stuff on and off, and how close to keep his muzzle to the microphone hanging from the ceiling. It wasn’t a lot of instruction, but McIntosh found himself hanging on every word, if only to delay the inevitable a bit longer. Of course it wouldn’t last forever.

Octavia left soon after, shutting the door and the outside world off, before showing up back in the other room and taking up a seat next to Vinyl. The two mares said something to one another, which he couldn’t hear of course. It was a big concerning when Octavia barked a laugh—he could tell by the way she moved—and had no idea what it was about. Big Mac hoped it wasn’t about him.

Finally the two mares settled down and there was a popping notice in his headphones as they turned their microphones on.

“Okay, Big Mac,” Octavia’s voice was crystal clear over the connection, “We’re ready when you are.”

“Uh,” Big Mac tried not to lean too close to the soft fuzzy surface of the mic, like Octavia had instructed him, “isn’t there supposed to be, I don’t know, music or something?”

“You mean like a beat?” Big Mac couldn’t quite see Vinyl’s face behind the microphone, but he could almost hear the smirk in her voice, “I’ve got just the thing, actually.”

Vinyl must have set the record up when he wasn’t looking, because her horn lit up and flicked a couple of switches, and suddenly his headphones were filled with a beat. It was heavy and slightly distorted; reminding him of the music he had heard in the club—and had listened to over the past few days with Vinyl’s advisement. In spite of everything, as the beat started thumping, Big Mac could feel the desire to sing rising in him—he had been practising, privately of course, with the lyrics, and he had a good idea how he wanted them to sound.

He took a deep breath and… nothing came out. Maybe a bit of a squeak. Then he blushed.

“It might help if you close your eyes, Big Stuff,” Vinyl said; her voice was full of compassion, rather than mockery, which he appreciated. Big Mac glanced through the window at her, and Octavia nodded in agreement. So, he sighed, shut his eyes, and tried again.

He choked a bit, and coughed, then he managed to get out the first few words Vinyl had written for him. It wasn’t very good, so he paused, and then restarted on himself. This time, the words… didn’t exactly pour out of him, but each line seemed to feed into the next, and there was a certain flow to it. he still stumbled a couple of times, and Vinyl asked him to restart when he did, but… it worked.

It was a lot different from a country ditty, of course, and in some ways it felt like he was reading poetry more than singing. He still sang though, about feeling overlooked and overshadowed by the ponies around him, how they went off and experienced new things and he didn’t. The frustration and unhappiness flowed out into his lyrics, and Big Mac thought perhaps that made them better—but he didn’t know, really.

If anything, it was more exhausting than he imagined, and by the end of the fifth take, his throat was dry and he felt completely drained. And this was only for one song—how a pony like Vinyl did it, with her dozens of songs per record, or Octavia’s hour long recordings was beyond him. Both were beyond his abilities, and his imagination.

Finally, he opened his eyes and rubbed them with one hoof as he glanced over into the other room. Vinyl was grinning ear to ear, and Octavia looked pleased as well—although somewhat less so, probably due to the genre of the music.

“Sounds great, Big Stuff!” Vinyl’s voice came over the microphone nice and clear, after the thumping background beats were shut off. “You’ll be a hit for sure.”

“You did very well for a first timer, Big Mac.” Octavia agreed, nodding her head. “What did you think? We can play it back for you, if you’d like.”

What did he think? Big Mac wasn’t sure, and he had no way of judging himself. So he shrugged, “If you ladies think it’s good, well, that’s good enough for me.”

“Cool,” Vinyl said, “then I guess it’s time for a post recording celebration! My treat!” Before Big Mac could say anything, Vinyl pulled off her headphones and dumped them on the panel in front of her, then headed for the door. Octavia rolled her eyes and Big Mac thought he heard her sigh before she copied the white unicorn’s lead.

It was huge relief to get the recording done, to Big Mac’s surprise, but he wasn’t about to say no to a big dinner and a bit of relaxing though, if that was what Vinyl had in mind. And maybe a more private celebration later, with just the two of them.

Vinyl opened the recording room’s door and Big Mac grinned at her. “Sounds good to me. Let’s go!”

**

Big Mac tried not to flinch as the hooves dug into his shoulders. He had the impression that the two mares performing the massages didn’t take kindly to that sort of reaction, especially, although neither of them had come out and said so. If he was feeling more generous, he would say they didn’t speak up out of politeness, but really they didn’t say anything because they wanted his bits. Or, rather, Vinyl’s.

Coming to the spa was Vinyl’s idea, and this was the second time in as many days that they had visited the place, and truthfully once was more than enough for him. He didn’t need his hooves filed by some stranger, or his back massaged either; he could do the former himself, and the latter—if he was going to get massaged—he’d rather it be done by Vinyl, not some mare whose name he didn’t know. The rest of the stuff; wraps and soakings, or whatever… Big Mac had no idea what to make of them. He ended up feeling cleaner than he ever had in his life, but it was kind of a weird sensation. Unpleasantly so. He certainly hadn’t gotten dirty enough to require another deep cleaning, though, and if any pony but Vinyl had asked him to come to such a place, he probably would have turned them down.

But, he couldn’t help but feel somewhat obligated to do some of the stuff Vinyl enjoyed, even if he didn’t.

The hoof twisted slightly, pushing some of his flesh around in a way Big Mac was almost certain Celestia never intended; he wasn’t so petulant that he wouldn’t admit to himself that it didn’t feel good, but it didn’t make him any less uncomfortable. The mare shifted her weight some, and the hoof lowest on his back moved a bit further back—too far, in fact, and Big Mac flinched again.

He thought her heard the masseuse huff slightly, before she replaced her hooves back in a more decent area of his back, but Big Mac had had enough. With a grunt, he waved her off and slid off the table. As it had been the day before, it was surprisingly difficult to stand on his own four hooves, and his legs felt like jelly. Probably turn to jelly soon, if I don’t do something with them, Big Mac thought to himself as he took a couple of tentative steps and ignored the grumpy look the Masseuse was giving him.

Now that he thought about it, it had been nearly three weeks since he had bucked an apple tree. Well, since he had worked on the farm at least—his injury hadn’t exactly meant he was running around bucking the trees to begin with. He wondered how they were all getting on without him. There was a sudden wave of homesickness, but Big Mac pushed it aside; he was sure the three of them were doing fine without him. It wasn’t the first time in the past week he had felt that way, ever since he had received a letter from the family.

Well, from Apple Bloom and Granny at least, Applejack apparently wasn’t interested in sending him any letters, at least not yet. Still, even without her input, the two of them had painted a picture of the farm more or less the same, and not experiencing any sort of crisis without him.

Big Mac wanted to write back, but he just wasn’t sure what to write; hay, he could barely express himself in person at times, how could he do it to a sheet of paper? But he’d have to do something soon—it wouldn’t be fair to any of them just to ignore their letter, whether he was doing so intentionally or not.

First, though, he wanted to stretch his legs.

“Going somewhere, Big Stuff?” Vinyl asked as he took a couple of steps around the room. Unlike himself, Vinyl seemed to be fully enjoying the massage, and she didn’t even open her eyes when she spoke. Occasionally her horn would fizzle a little bit—Big Mac assumed it was because she was so utterly relaxed.

Was he going anywhere? It wasn’t as if he had anywhere better to be, or anything better to do. Maybe he could just watch or something. “Nope.” Big Mac shook his head, even though Vinyl wasn’t looking.

“Just relax, Big Stuff,” Vinyl’s voice carried a hint of… what? Frustration? Big Mac wasn’t sure. “That’s why we’re here; to relax.”

“I guess I’ve just been relaxing for a while, Vinyl,” Big Mac felt his mouth move of its own accord, but as he spoke, it seemed to crystallize his thoughts. Maybe he wasn’t on a farm anymore, but he needed work, to be doing something with his hooves—or when he was learning about music, his voice and brain. He enjoyed sitting in a shade sipping cider as much as the next pony, but cider didn’t taste nearly as sweet if you hadn’t earned it. “More of a doer, I guess.”

“Yeah, I guessed,” Vinyl smirked a little, although she still kept her eyes shut. The other masseuse—as far as he could tell, the two ponies working at the place were nearly identical—who was currently kneading her back like a lump of dough just glared at him. “But there’s nothing for you to do, the track’s all mixed and everything.”

“I know that,” Big Mac grumbled and kicked the floor lightly, scuffing his hoof edges in the process. Probably better that way, they were far too shiny for his tastes. “I just…”

“I feel for you, Big Stuff, I do.” Vinyl shifted and opened her eyes, finally looking at him—if only for a moment—before lighting her horn and levitating her drink to her lips. “You do all this work and then when you’ve got nothing to do, you don’t know what to do with yourself. Been there, done that; it’s best just to take it easy.”

“I don’t know if I can.” Big Mac sighed and sat down in front of Vinyl. “Maybe y’all should show me how to play an instrument or somethin’.”

“That’d take too long,” Vinyl waved her hoof dismissively as the drink returned to its table.

“Well, maybe we could go explorin’, see some of the countryside or visit some place,” Big Mac suggested. After all, he hadn’t planned on spending his whole adventure sitting around Manehatten—however big and unusual the city was compared to Ponyville. Of course, he hadn’t expected to gain a marefriend or record a song either, but Big Mac supposed that was sort of the definition of an adventure.

“We could,” Vinyl nodded before settling back down and closing her eyes again. “But how do you know we wouldn’t get to, say, Vanhoover, and you’d be as antsy?”

Big Mac sighed, she was right of course.

“If it makes you feel any better, the song’ll be out in a couple of days, so you have that to look forward too.”

“A couple of days?” Big Mac echoed. He wasn’t an expert on the music recording business, but he would have thought it’d take longer to put all the vinyls together or however it was they made them. Unbidden, his heart started to beat a bit faster.

“Sure, I asked the people upstairs to fast track it,” Vinyl said, “It isn’t a large run, of course, but what can you do, eh?”

“I… I guess,” Vinyl and Octavia had agreed that it would be best to release it as a single, although he had left the details to the two mares, since he had no idea what he’d be doing if he tried. He still wasn’t certain about the whole thing, though. Ever since Big Mac had recorded the darn thing, he had been thinking he shouldn’t have. Too late now, of course, but had expected it’d be months before he had to deal with the consequences. “When?”

“Uh, on the nineteenth, I think.”

Big Mac’s heart skipped a beat; “Vinyl, today’s the twenty fifth.”

“Oh wow, really?” Vinyl giggled, even as Big Mac got to his hooves. And headed towards the door. “My bad, guess I lost track of ti—”

Vinyl’s voice cut off as the doors leading to the massage section of the spa swung closed as Big Mac trotted through the lobby. Part of him didn’t really want to know anymore, since it would be easier to just ignore the fact that the song was out, but a bigger part of him—a part that was almost painfully vain, and stupidly so—had to know what ponies thought about it. He was the same way with the Sweet Apple Acres’ cider; he wanted to know what the ponies thought, even if it didn’t really matter—and frankly wasn’t any different from year to year.

Of course, Big Mac wasn’t really sure where to go for that sort of information. It wasn’t as if he could just ask the ponies on the street, after all. But he suspected a good place to start would be at the Pony Music Entertainment Headquarters.

It wasn’t until he was halfway down the street that he realized he had more or less ran out on Vinyl without saying so much as goodbye; hopefully she wouldn’t be too mad at him.

**

“There you are!” Vinyl’s voice came from the direction of the door, but Big Mac didn’t bother turning around. He knew she was there, but he didn’t exactly want to face her just yet. “I’ve been looking all over for you! What the hell, pony?”

Big Mac opened his mouth to reply, but he wasn’t sure he could just yet, not with his voice so raw and uncomposed, so he shook his head instead. Part of him was hoping Vinyl would just go away and leave him in peace, at least for a little while longer—truthfully, he wasn’t sure why he had ended up in one of the recording suites rather than going back to the Oranges or back to Vinyl’s place. Well, he didn’t have a key to the latter, obviously, and he wasn’t sure he really wanted to talk to his aunt and uncle just yet either. Privacy, Big Mac supposed, is what he was really after at the moment, and the suite had just seemed like the best place to go.

Not private enough, it seemed.

“Big Stuff…” Vinyl’s voice trailed off with a note of uncertainty, and Big Mac heard her shuffle closer. Clearly his hopes that she’d be put off and leave him be for a while longer weren’t going to come to fruition. Big Mac took a shuddering breath and tried to calm himself a little bit, hopefully it wouldn’t be so obvious he had been crying.

And what a stupid thing to cry over too, he felt like an idiot, but there was little he could do about it now. Hopefully Vinyl wouldn’t notice.

“Big Mac,” Vinyl began again, and he flinched slightly as he felt her hoof come to rest on his withers. Then he relaxed slightly. “What’s wrong?”

“This.” Big Mac shifted slightly and lifted the magazine up in the air so Vinyl could see it. It was one of what he took to be local publications about music in the city; the lobby of the building had a number of similar magazines, but the ponies at the front desk had pointed it out to him. It went by the name of disHarmony—probably for the shock value—and a large section of it was dedicated to reviewing newly released music.

Like his song.

Vinyl pulled the magazine out of his hoof with her magic, although she didn’t say anything as she flipped through it. After a couple of seconds, the rustling stopped and Big Mac guessed she had found the appropriate article.

Still, it was kind of awkward to just stand there facing the wall while she read it, so he rubbed his eyes to get rid of any errant tears and turned around to face the mare. Vinyl’s lips were pursed thoughtfully as she read the article, although she did spare a glance at Big Mac as he shifted. He didn’t move very far from his spot on the floor, though, mostly because there wasn’t a whole lot of room to move to begin with.

It wasn’t a long article, though, and after a moment Vinyl frowned and put the magazine aside. “Is that all?”

“’Is that all?’” Big Mac echoed incredulously. “They hated it. And me.”

“They’re critics, Big Mac,” Vinyl snorted and shook her head, before running her hoof through her mane. “Being bitter and hating everypony is kind of in their job description.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Big Mac grumbled. “I knew this whole thing was a bad idea.”

“Hey dude, don’t be so hard on yourself.” Vinyl reached out and rubbed her hoof against his arm. “Lookit, I know these guys trashed your thing, and you put a lot of hard work in it, but, but Big Stuff, you should have seen the shit they wrote about my tracks.” Vinyl paused and chuckled, “I think one of them said it sounded like two cats fighting in a burlap sack.”

Big Mac sighed and shrugged; maybe Vinyl was right, maybe it wasn’t as bad as the critics were saying it was… but on the other hoof, Big Mac wasn’t sure he was really cut out for this sort of thing. Making that song really felt like a one-time thing, and he really didn’t know if he’d ever write another one. He certainly didn’t feel like it after those critics had picked him apart.

Plus, even after several weeks, he still felt like a stranger to the city in many ways. Ponies were rude and inconsiderate—not to mention there were so many of them. Everyday he probably saw more ponies than he had ever seen growing up in Ponyville. If he was going to be honest with himself, he missed Ponyville and Sweet Apple Acres. He missed the simple labour of bucking trees or hauling stuff around or fixing things; maybe going out and seeing the world was a good thing, but what had it gotten him, in the end? His sister was probably mad as hay—as hell, no reason to mince words—Apple Bloom probably still thought he had gone away because of her, and now he had gone and embarrassed himself trying to be something he wasn’t. And, to top it all off, he was starting to feel more than a bit guilty leaving them all alone on the farm.

“I know you’re upset, Big Mac, but really, it’s nothing to cry over,” Vinyl was saying, although Big Mac really wasn’t paying close attention. She was the only thing good to come out of this whole adventure—or misadventure, as the case may be. They were two very different ponies, he had no illusions about that, but it was nice having a special somepony.

After a moment’s thought, Big Mac leaned forward and nuzzled Vinyl’s cheek, shutting the mare up, if only temporarily.

But Vinyl really wasn’t… enough… to stick around, at least by Big Mac’s reasoning, He cared for her, and he’d like to think she cared back, but he didn’t belong in the city, and he certainly didn’t belong in a recording studio trying to make music. He belonged on Sweet Apple Acres.

“Vinyl, I think I ought to go,” Big Mac said finally, just as Vinyl opened her mouth to say something else.

“Go where?” Vinyl asked, frowning slightly. “I mean, I guess we could all use some alone time or something but I’d like to try and cheer you up if I can.”

McIntosh shook his head, “Go home. Back to Ponyville.” Vinyl’s whole body slumped, and Big Mac instantly felt bad. He probably shouldn’t have broke it to her just like that, but then, he had only just made up his mind too. Maybe he should explain; “It’s not that I don’t appreciate everything, and…” Big Mac let his voice trail off—how exactly was he going to explain his reasoning to this mare? He had a hard enough time with his words, even when he wasn’t talking to somepony like Vinyl. “I guess you could say this here review just made me realize I don’t belong.”

“But you’ve barely been here at all!” Vinyl protested, taking a step back from him. “I mean, it’s only been what? Three weeks?”

“But do you really see me ever fittin’ in, Vinyl?” Big Mac gestured vaguely to himself, “I mean, look at mean, I don’t even speak like the rest of y'all.”

“So?” Vinyl’s ears lad back, not quite flat against her skull. “Picking up a new accent isn’t hard, and with a little work you’d fit right in and—”

“I wouldn’t be Big McIntosh then, would I?”

All the fight drained out of Vinyl’s body, and Big Mac’s heart sank a bit lower in his chest. “I guess not, I just don’t want you to leave.” She paused and she sighed gustily, “I guess it’s partly my fault—”

“I never said that,” Big Mac cut her off, the last thing he wanted was for her to think it was her fault. “You’ve been the best thing about this trip, Vinyl, and I can’t have you thinkin’ any different than the truth.” McIntosh pursed his lips slightly, thinking; “It’s just you’re Vinyl, the musician, and I’m Big McIntosh, the farmer, I guess. Just took me a while to be reminded of that fact.”

“Oh.” Vinyl looked up at him smiling weakly, but at least she was smiling, he supposed.

Big Mac hugged her and patted her back lightly. Hopefully she’d understand, she was a big enough pony that she probably wouldn’t get caught up with blaming herself, like he was worried Apple Bloom had.

“Mmm,” Vinyl said, suddenly sounding more mischievous than upset; Big Mac found himself wondering if he should be worried. Sure enough, as Vinyl pulled away, she had a smirk on her muzzle. “You know, there’s no reason I can’t come with you—you might need to be a farmer back in Ponyville, but I can record stuff pretty much anywhere.”

“Uh…” Big Mac’s brain froze. “Why?”

“Why not? We’ve got a good thing going, I think, why not keep it that way?” Vinyl half shrugged and blushed, “Normally the guys I sleep with… let’s just say they’re not really interested in much more than a fling. You make me feel special, I guess. Like you really care about me.”

“Well, I do care about you, Vinyl,” Big Mac said—although he supposed the question was whether or not he loved her; but he also wasn’t sure if the question really mattered; he enjoyed spending time with her, and he knew in his heart he’d miss her if she was gone out of his life. On the other hoof though… he couldn’t ask her to uproot her whole life on a snap decision like this. “But shouldn’t you think about this a bit? y'all got a life here, don’t ya?”

“Nothing I can’t do without,” Vinyl smiled slightly and leaned forward, “Please?” She said in a tone of voice that suggested she was begging, “don’t you want me?”

“It’s not that, Vinyl, I’m just—” before Big Mac could say anything further on the subject, Vinyl kissed him. For a second he wasn’t sure how to respond, then he just let himself return the kiss. Vinyl’s lips were as soft as ever, and he stroked her mane with his hoof. She was wearing her glasses; she seemed to wear them everywhere, so he carefully lifted them up and off her face so he could see her eyes clearly.

“I want you to be happy,” Big Mac continued as he pulled away and tried to ignore the thin line of spittle coming off his lips. He quickly wiped it away. “Movin’ away, that’s enough to make anypony unhappy.”

“But you make me happy,” Vinyl pushed her hoof against Big Mac’s chest. “You.”

“I’m sure a mare like yourself could find somepony else,” Big Mac couldn’t help but feel a bit flustered. Flustered, but some small part of himself also felt rather pleased Vinyl felt that way.

“Maybe, but I have you, and I’d like to keep it that way.” Vinyl’s eyes took on a mischievous light, and she stepped away from Big Mac, turning towards the door. “Of course, if you’d rather…” Vinyl’s tail kept twitching from side to side, flashing Big Mac, and making him blush.

“Now hold on,” Big Mac got up and stepped in front of Vinyl, blocking the door, “I never said I didn’t, I just don’t want you to be unhappy.”

“Won’t know unless you try,” Vinyl quipped, and Big Mac couldn’t help but be reminded that it was that sort of thinking that got him into this mess in the first place. On the other hoof, though, he had enjoyed spending time with Vinyl and learning about music, so it hadn’t been that bad, all things considered.

Vinyl twitched her ears as Big Mac sighed heavily, probably waiting for him to respond—and there was something else he hadn’t considered. Vinyl was a grown mare, if she wanted to try, wanted to take the risk, well he supposed on some level that was really her decision. All he could do—and should do—was respect it. “I guess,” Big Mac said finally, punctuating his words with a shrug. Hopefully it would all work out.

“Great!” Vinyl leaned in and kissed him again; although this time, he was more than ready for it. It was a soft, happy, kiss at first, but it quickly becomes something far more hungry and needy. Now that he had… put things behind him, and knew where he was going, it was like a dam had broken within him. Big Mac felt more sure of himself, more relaxed. A subtle tension had probably been building up inside of him for days, and it was gone now.

And it seemed it was making him horny.

Big Mac pressed himself against her, forcing her to step backwards until her back banged up against the far wall, but that only encouraged him. From her mouth, he drew a line of kisses down Vinyl’s cheek, punctuating them with small, but firm, nips as he went down her neck. Vinyl nibbled on his ear in turn, tugging on it gently with her teeth before he flicked it out of her grasp accidently. Vinyl decided to switch to nuzzling along his broad neck—between small gasps of pleasure.

That didn’t stop her from reaching out with her hoof and rubbing along his belly towards his cock. As she extended her hoof completely—which admittedly didn’t get her very far, given his massive frame, Vinyl’s horn lit up and suddenly his balls were wrapped in feather-soft steel. It was sudden, and just enough to make Big Mac grunt and break off his ministrations along Vinyl’s neck. Probably for the best, it was only making her more bothered, but it wasn’t exactly getting him very far.

Vinyl, on the other hoof, just continued to roll and massage his balls, although the focus of her magic drifted after a couple of seconds to run along the underside of his penis, which by now was hanging rather loosely between his legs. He couldn’t help it—there was just something about Vinyl, something that made these moments just so arousing.

He didn’t just stand there, though, he leaned in and kissed Vinyl again, although it was really just a quick peck compared to the earlier kiss. “I hope you can be happy with me, Vinyl.” Big Mac said, shuddering slightly as her grip pumped against his member. It seemed to be one of her favourite things to do with it, and he was starting to wonder if it was—what had she called it?—a fetish.

Seemed like a darn good way to make sure your stallion spent his load on the floor though, rather than somewhere more productive.

As he nipped Vinyl’s cheek, though, a though occurred to McIntosh, something he had heard about unicorns and their horns in general. Shifting, Big Mac kissed the base of the horn, before licking along its length. If felt strange under his tongue; the horn itself was semi-flexible, but it felt bone hard as he touched it with his tongue and lips—and that was ignoring the magic coming out of it. Big Mac had always assumed that the glow around a unicorn’s horn was just that, a glow, but there was clearly something going on around it. Unlike Vinyl’s magic currently stroking around the ridges of his cock head, though, this was fuzzy, like cotton, and sharp, like embers on a patch of bare skin.

It was strange, but Vinyl seemed to enjoy it, as she gasped rather sharply and her body twitched. Or she did, for a moment at least, then her magic winked out and the feeling on his cock disappeared. It left a tingly afterimage—or after-impression—on his tongue, and there was a brief whiff of ozone that reminded Big Mac of the time lightning had struck the barn. He wrinkled his nose at the smell.

“O-oh, geez,” Vinyl panted. “T-that might not be the best idea, Big Stuff, too sensitive.”

Big Mac found himself grinning. “Not sure why that’d be a problem, I’ll be gentle…”

“B-but,” Vinyl’s face was flushed and she seemed a little flustered, “I can’t use my magic if…”

“I reckon I can have a good time without your fancy magics, Vinyl.” Big Mac leaned in and kissed her again, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Vinyl’s aura flash back into existence. Maybe it was his imagination, but it looked like it was a slightly darker shade now. That thought didn’t have much time to stay in his brain before it was swept away by as Vinyl’s telekinesis flared back into existence as well, rubbing down his length lightly. He enjoyed it for a moment, then nibbled around the base of her horn, experimenting slightly.

They went back and forth like that for a while—he would touch her horn until she lost control of her magic, and then he’d give her a few seconds to recover before she’d try to return the favour, until Big Mac pulled away and tapped her side with his hoof. He didn’t think he could take much more of Vinyl’s magic, and he’d rather not waste himself and spoil the main attraction.

Thankfully Vinyl clued in quickly, and turned around. Big Mac couldn’t resist leaning down and giving her flank a couple of bites, particularly around her cutie mark though, not matter how stiff he was feeling. If only to hear her giggle happily.

It also gave him an excuse to take in her scent as she flicked her tail aside for him. She smelled more floral than normal, probably because she had just come from the spa—part of him chuckled that all that work she had gone through in getting clean hadn’t exactly lasted—but mostly he smelled the heady scent of her musk. Even before his tongue ran along her lips, Big Mac could tell his mare was very excited and very wet.

Vinyl twitched a little and gasped, shooting him a look over her shoulder that suggested if he didn’t get down to it, she was going to kick him. He had no problem obliging her.

He nipped her cheeks a couple of times, though, just for the hell of it—for some reason the act made his heart beat even faster in his chest—then he slowly climbed up onto her back and hugged her from behind as he probed her hindquarters semi-experimentally. It felt a bit awkward still, but luckily, he had more than a bit of practice over the past few weeks at this.

Vinyl let out an adorable little squeak as he pushed his way into her warm body, even though he wasn’t moving all that fast. The sensation of her wet, hungry folds gripping his cock was wonderful, and he wanted to savour it, if only for a couple of moments. But he also didn’t want to leave her hanging. Big Mac kissed her cheek and started to slide out of her.

Normally, he would try to take it slow, mostly because he suspected Vinyl liked to be the center of attention—especially his attention—for as long as possible, but today, he was having trouble with that. He just wanted to fuck the mare, hard, and it showed as he thrust in rather violently.

Despite his expectations, Vinyl’s eyes just rolled back and she moaned—if anything, she seemed to enjoy it more! Big Mac grunted and rolled with it, pausing only to reposition his legs and body on Vinyl’s back to give himself better stability for his thrusts.

It wasn’t terribly elegant sex, and it didn’t take Big Mac very long before the stiffness he had felt earlier turned into pressure, bursting to get out. Still, he did his best to hold off as long as he could, but the more aggressive stance of sex made it hard, and before he knew what was happening, his thoughts became hazy.

His balls felt tight, and then… Big Mac buried his muzzle against Vinyl’s shoulder as he buried his cock as deep as he could within her and released. He throbbed and spurted within her for what felt like an hour but probably wasn’t much more than a minute, if that. It helped that halfway through it, Vinyl came as well, and the way her body clamped down on his cock—in his mind—helped extend his orgasm a bit longer.

Finally, though, it came to a sticky end, and Big Mac just panted and tried to recover before he kissed Vinyl on her cheek. She seemed a bit dazed too, but his kiss seemed to break her out of it, and she tilted her head to return it.

They probably kissed lightly for another minute, but by then Big Mac was starting to feel an ache in his back from the somewhat awkward position he was in, as well as his cock starting to soften. Part of him wanted to sigh, but he supposed nothing lasted forever. So, with a snort, he pulled back, off and out of his mare, and plopped down onto his own four hooves. He could tell by the way Vinyl’s body flexed in response to the sudden lack of weight that she  was probably grateful he was off her too. It was a bit different, of course, being in bed…

Big Mac frowned, suddenly remembering where the two of them were. It only took his frown a second to turn into a full on blush that he knew full well everypony could see through his coat, red or not. Hopefully no other pony would ever have… to… know….

As Big Mac turned around, Big Mac found himself staring into the stunned expression on Octavia’s face. The earth pony’s jaw hung open, and Big Mac wasn’t completely sure she was fully aware that they had finished—clearly she had seen at least some of it. Big Mac’s blush got even harder, and he couldn’t be more thankful that his cock was retreating into his sheath.

“Octavia?” Vinyl had turned around too, and she seemed to be just as embarrassed—at least she was blushing as badly as Big Mac was sure he was, even if it didn’t show up in her voice.

“Uh,” Octavia unfroze, and suddenly she was blushing too—and trying to avoid their gazes. “uh, I just, was, you know. I heard the bad news and somepony said that you were down here and…”

“Eeyup.”

Chapter 6: Big Mac's Story part 4

 Moving back to Ponyville wasn’t nearly as difficult as Big Mac had feared it might, once he made up his mind to do so. Truthfully, in the all the time he had been in Manehatten, he hadn’t exactly made much of an impact; he was “staying” with his Aunt and Uncle, but he hadn’t exactly spent a great deal of time with them, and he was no more attached to them than when he got there. They were family, of course, but it wouldn’t be unbearable if he didn’t see them until the next reunion—not that the Oranges often attended.

Nor had he gotten a job—a real one, that is. Apparently, some ponies had bought his song in spite of the bad reviews, and he had made a few bits out of the whole experience. Not enough to make a dent in his expenses or anything—although he had hardly drained his bit bag—but a few bits at least. Perhaps they might pacify Applejack when he finally set hoof back on the farm.

Nor had he exactly made all that many friends, besides Vinyl and Octavia. Vinyl, of course, was coming with him, so he could hardly be said to miss her, and Octavia hadn’t been exactly close. Plus, after she had walked in on them, she had kind of… not exactly given them the cold shoulder, but things were rather awkward between the two of them now. So parting ways with her wasn’t particularly difficult, if anything, it was a bit of a relief.

In the end, all Big Mac had to do was pack his bags, say his goodbyes, and catch the next train that headed home.

However, the same couldn’t be said of Vinyl. Vinyl had lived in Manehatten, Big Mac gathered, for several years, and she had the sort of life that went with it; a home, friends, a job. And it didn’t help that Vinyl was almost painfully enthusiastic about coming back to Ponyville. Even though he had agreed to let her come with him—sort of—in the back of his mind, Big Mac worried that it wouldn’t work out. It would be painful enough seeing Vinyl go, but it would weigh far more heavily on his soul if he knew she was going back to a life she had inadvertently destroyed in her eagerness to come along.

Her job was the easiest of the three things to work around, since Vinyl had no intention of quitting, but Big Mac wasn’t too sure how Applejack—of heaven forbid, Granny—would respond to her plan to record her songs at Sweet Apple Acres. She certainly had the means to do it, of course, and probably knew how to do it too, but the whole idea was rather permanent, and Big Mac suspected his sister and grandmother would take issue with the lyrics of her songs besides. After several long debates, he was able to get her down to taking a vacation from her job, and seeing how things went before she dropped any amount of bits down to set up a recording studio.

Similarly, Big Mac had to spend an not-insignificant amount of time to talk Vinyl out of selling her place.

“Vinyl, what if you don’t like it in Ponyville?” Big Mac had said, a few nights after he had decided to go home. “If you sell this place, where would you live?”

“I can always get a new place, if push comes to shove.”  Vinyl had shrugged nonchalantly, before she had curled up beside him on the bed, pushing her muzzle into the side of his neck. “But I’m optimistic.”

Big Mac had frowned and pulled her a little closer, electing an approving murmur from Vinyl, even though he didn’t act any further on it. It didn’t strike him as a particularly convincing argument for why she should get rid of her place—than an idea had struck him.

“What about all your stuff,” Big Mac had waved his hoof around the room, at the walls and the things on them. There were all kinds of golden records—apparently a tradition in ‘show biz’—as well as her dresser and drawers. “How are you going to move it all?”

“Well,” Vinyl had lifted her head up off his body and blushed faintly, “I was hoping you’d help me move…”

“I’d be happy to, but, we’ll have to walk a fair ways to get to Ponyville, I’m not sure I can pull a load like this all this way—never mind the shippin’ costs and all.” That hadn’t been completely true, he probably could have hauled her whole life down to Ponyville without breaking much of a sweat, but just because he could didn’t mean he wanted to. Celestia knows if he tried it, he’d probably just injure himself again too. Thank goodness he wasn’t the Element of Honesty.

Still, it was a solid enough argument that Vinyl had relented and in the end only brought along a couple of suitcases of clothing—and assorted musician related materials. Big Mac had no problem hauling that for her, which was probably a good thing because before the two of them had made it halfway to Ponyville from Canterlot, the mare was already looking worn out. That worried him a fair amount—she clearly had never done any real hard work in her life. Most unicorns hadn’t, that was just the way of things, but Vinyl seemed to be particularly out of shape, even if it didn’t show physically. They took a fair number of breaks, therefore, and the sun was nearly down by the time they reached the outskirts of Ponyville.

Ponyville was no Canterlot, and once the night fell, most ponies got indoors and stayed there, but that didn’t mean they didn’t work and play hard right up until it did, even as they fast approached winter. That wasn’t unusual or unexpected. What was unexpected, though,, was how many ponies had apparently noticed he had been missing.

“Hey there, Big Mac!” Golden Harvest waved her hoof at him as they passed her on the street, and Big Mac had returned the wave with one of his own. “I haven’t seen you here in a while.”

“Been out of town,” Big Mac commented, although he didn’t elaborate further—not that any pony expected particularly long responses out of him, of course.

As he wove his way through the town, the greetings were mostly the same, and his replies—when he didn’t just nod in acknowledgement—were mostly the same too. He just found it surprising so many ponies had even noticed he was gone. For some reason it made him feel happy, and a bit bashful.

Vinyl noticed too, but for different reasons: “Geez, it’s like I’m invisible—you can still see me, right Big Mac?” Vinyl added with a hint of mock-worry in her voice.

“Eeyup,” Big Mac chuckled, “must be those glasses, no pony recognizes you without’em.” That wasn’t really true, though. Vinyl hadn’t worn her glasses at all on the train or in Canterlot, and more than once a pony or two had come up and spoke to her or asked for an autograph. He hoped Ponyville wasn’t giving her the impression that the place was backwards or something, although after seeing Manehatten, he knew full well it was certainly on the small side.

Still, even with all the interruptions and well wishes, the two of them made it out of Ponyville in good time, before the sun set. It didn’t take long before they were surrounded by apple trees—although they were all bare of leaves and apples now, of course. Having lived on Sweet Apple Acres almost his whole life though, Big Mac knew the trees by scent.

Still, he wished Vinyl’s impression of the place had been during the height of apple season, not a bunch of dead trees. He would have pointed them out regardless, if it weren’t for the growing shadows and the chill that came with it. Big Mac wasn’t particularly bothered by the cold, of course, but Vinyl was shivering almost as soon as the sun set. They probably could have stopped and let Vinyl pull out something warm from her bags, but she seemed content just to press her flank against his as they walked.

Finally though, they crested the final curve in the road, and there was the barn and farmhouse, just as he remembered them, bathed in the orange light of the sunset. Before he knew what he was doing, Big Mac surged forward, breaking into a gallop and closing the last stretch of road between him and the gate in a manner of seconds. He didn’t mean to leave Vinyl literally in his dust, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it now. At the gate, he slowed to a trot, and finally a slow walk. Then he stopped completely at the threshold, looking in.

He wanted to step forward, but part of him was reluctant—he had left this place, would his family accept him back? Big Mac had known those worries would trouble him eventually, but up until now he had managed to shove them off into the future, occupying his mind with conversation with Vinyl or packing bags… now he stood at the gate to Sweet Apple Acres looking in and it felt like he was—

“BIG BROTHER!”

The high pitched squeal of delight cut Big Mac’s thoughts off abruptly, and before he had time to think, something small, yellow, and very excited slammed into his forelegs like an arrow into an oak tree. The tackle, as enthusiastic as it was, wasn’t nearly powerful enough to knock him off his hooves or even rock him, but it didn’t matter—it could only be one pony: Apple Bloom.

“You’re back!” His legs muffled Apple Bloom’s voice, and her grip prevented him from moving much, but Big Mac managed to shift his right leg out enough that he could return the hug. Perhaps not as tightly, but return it nevertheless. “Are… are you back for good?”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac smiled down at the filly, even if she couldn’t see it.

“I missed you so much,” Apple Bloom’s grip somehow got a bit tighter.

“Missed you too, Apple Bloom.”

“What’s all this yellin’ about,” Big Mac looked up in time to see Applejack putting her hat back on her head as she stepped out of the kitchen door. Apple Bloom must have been taking slop to the pigs or something—a chore she probably should have done before sitting down to eat. It only took Applejack a moment to spot him, and she froze.

The two of them stared at each other for a moment, and truthfully, Big Mac felt a bit frozen too. Then Applejack trotted over to them at a measured pace.

“Well, lookit what the cat dragged in,” Applejack’s voice wavered a bit, and as she got closer, Big Mac thought he could see tears in her eyes—although it probably was just a trick of the light, he was sure. Just like the light was messing with his eyes too, making everything watery looking. “I didn’t…”

“Applejack!” Apple Bloom tore herself away from Big Mac’s leg—much to his relief—and spun to face her older sister. “Big Mac says he’s come back! To stay! Isn’t that great?”

“This true, Big McIntosh?” Applejack asked, and Big Mac had a fleeting impression she was trying to channel the sternness of their mother, and failing horribly at it. “You back to stay?”

“I belong here,” Big Mac shook his head, “it was good to get out and clear my head, helped me realize it was the truth.”

“Well, of course you belong here!” Applejack surged forward; this time Big Mac was ready for the hug and returning it wasn’t nearly as awkward. “I’m glad you’re back, Big Mac, it ain’t been the same without ya around.” Applejack paused squeezed him a bit tighter. “I reckon that—” Applejack’s body went rigid for a second, and turning his ears, he could hear Vinyl finally approaching. Big Mac wasn’t sure if she had given him the space on purpose, or because she just didn’t have the energy in her to keep pace with him after the long journey.

Applejack pulled back, and Big Mac sidestepped so he could see both mares as Vinyl came to a stop a bit behind where he was standing.

“Who’s this?” Applejack asked bluntly, eyeing Vinyl skeptically. Vinyl gave her a nervous looking grin, which in Big Mac’s opinion just made her look skittish. Apple Bloom half-hid between Applejack’s legs as she got a good look at the stranger too, but Big Mac had no intention of letting the awkward silence go on for too long.

“Applejack, Apple Bloom, this is Vinyl Scratch,” Big Mac said, gesturing towards the unicorn, “She’s my, uh,” Big Mac’s mouth went dry, “my marefriend.”

Applejack’s eyebrows got lost in the brim of her hat as they shot straight up, and Big Mac’s face adopted the same nervous grin as Vinyl’s.

“Really?” Apple Bloom said as the pause threatened to turn into another awkward silence.

“Uh, hi,” Vinyl said at last, “yeah, we’re, uh, dating.”

“Uh-huh,” Applejack said sceptically, but before she could say anything else on the subject, Apple Bloom shot out from under Applejack and started spinning and skipping excitedly, probably trying to take in all three of them at once.

“Macie’s got a marefriend, macie’s got a marefriend!” Apple Bloom half giggled and half sang, making Big Mac’s cheeks heat up—he glanced over at Vinyl, and noted she seemed to be handling it a bit better than he was—she was still blushing a bit, but mostly she just looked bemused.

“Stop that!” Applejack snapped, taking a heavy step forward and startling Apple Bloom out of her tizzy. “Don’t you dare make fun of your brother, Apple Bloom, that ain’t right, and you’re a better pony than that!”

Apple Bloom blushed and looked down at her hooves, and mumbled out something that Big Mac thought might have been an apology.

Applejack clearly took it as such; “Good. Now go finish your chores.”

“But I wanted to stay with Big Mac!” Apple Bloom whined, and glanced up at Big Mac pleadingly. Part of him wanted to let her stay, but he knew better than to contradict his sister. Besides, somepony had to feed the pigs.

“Don’t you whine at me missy!” Applejack said, sounding irritated. “If y'all had done it when you were supposed to, you wouldn’t be doin’ it now.” Then Applejack’s expression softened, along with her voice, “there’ll be plenty of time to catch up with your brother… and Miss Scratch here, once you’ve done your chores. If ya do them quickly, that is. You’ve got school tomorrow, don’t think I forgot.”

Apple Bloom tried to protest some more, but under Applejack’s hard stare, the little filly galloped off to do her chores, rather than fighting it. That’s when Applejack turned back to Big Mac and Vinyl.

“So you two are datin’?” Applejack asked; Big Mac wasn’t sure if she was angry or curious or… something else. “Been at it long?”

“Not too long,” Vinyl replied before Big Mac could, “Miss Applejack…” Vinyl’s voice trailed off and Big Mac could almost hear the gears grinding in her head. “Wait, are you—?”

“That Applejack?” The mare said dryly, although Big Mac thought he detected a hint of pleasure in her voice too. “Eeyup. Don’t put much stock in it though, I’m just a regular mare, work hard, live right, that’s me.”

“You’re a hero,” Vinyl breathed, and Big Mac found himself chuckling—it was a bit odd hearing Vinyl speak in a tone of voice he had heard her fans use with her all day. He thought he had kept it quiet, but Vinyl must have heard since she shot him a hard glance. “I thought you said you didn’t really know any of the Elements.”

“Uh, well,” Big Mac shuffled his hoof against the dirt, “I didn’t want you to just see me as her brother, is all.”

“No pony thinks you’re ‘just’ my brother, Big McIntosh,” Applejack shook her head, “but enough of this, let’s get inside. It’s getting cold out here, and the dinner inside’s getting cold too.”

Big Mac’s stomach rumbled in concert with Vinyl’s, and they shared a sheepish grin at each other.

“I don’t suppose there’s food to spare for the two of us?” Big Mac asked hopefully.

His question was rewarded with Applejack’s muzzle splitting into a huge, happy grin. “Well, of course there is! There’s always enough for family—” Applejack shot Vinyl a glance “—and friends! There’s plenty, come on, I’ll serve you a plate or two.”

“If it’s not too much of a bother, do you think I could wash up first?” Vinyl said, glancing down at herself. Now that he was looking for it, her normally white coat was really more of a dull brown now; he was caked in dust too, of course, but it didn’t bother him nearly as much. “We’ve both been traveling all day.”

“Well, I don’t know if we can whip you up a bath real quick, but y'all welcome to jump in the pond, if you like. Mite cold, mind you, but it’ll wake you up, that’s for sure.” Applejack said, vaguely gesturing towards the small body of water in question. “Probably for the best, Granny wouldn’t be happy if you tracked dirt all over the house.”

“The pond?” Vinyl sounded more or less incredulous, and she looked as sceptical as she sounded.

“Eeyup,” Big Mac nodded, “I’ll be right with ya, Vinyl, don’t worry.”

Vinyl stared at him for a moment, before shrugging and trotting off towards the pond, leaving Big Mac alone with his sister for the first time in too long.

“So…” Applejack chewed her lip as she watched Vinyl dip her hoof in the pond—only to withdraw it with a yelp. “You’ve gone and got yourself a marefriend…”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac agreed, not bothering to meet his sister’s eyes, “just sort of happened, you know…”

“And she’s movin’ in with us?”

Big Mac hesitated, and he was glad it was only the two of them here. For a moment, he watched Vinyl, thinking over his answer. It wasn’t really a simple yes or no question, not if he was going to be honest with himself. “I don’t know.” Big Mac said finally, “for the short term, she’ll be staying with us. Not sure if it’ll work out.” Big Mac glanced sidelong at Applejack, “Farm life ain’t for everypony, just like Manehatten isn’t for everypony. But we’re willin’ to give it a shot.”

“I understand,” Applejack’s eyes met his own, and she smiled again, “glad you’re home, Big Mac.” Her smile turned into a smirk. “I take it, by staying with us, you mean she’ll be stayin’ in your bedroom?”

“Uh,” Big Mac blushed; he hadn’t really thought much about that, actually. The farmhouse had more rooms, of course, but most of them weren’t really set up for guest. They didn’t have time to maintain guest rooms when they weren’t expecting company. But they probably couldn’t put anything together before it was time for bed—and he suspected Vinyl might object to them sleeping in separate bedrooms. Hoo boy. Big Mac thought to himself. “Guess so.”

The implications didn’t bother Applejack, of course, although her smirk got deeper and her eyes twinkled with humour. “Big Mac’s got a marefriend, Big Mac’s got a marefriend…” She half-whispered, half sang under her breath. Then she return to her normal ‘all business’ self. “Right, well, you better show your mare how we Apples bath, or else y'all won’t get nothin’ to eat tonight.” Applejack turned to go, before glancing over her shoulder at Big Mac with a grin. “And no foolin’ around, I know how you colts can get, so I’m warning ya now.”

Big Mac rolled his eyes as he started towards the pond and a rather skittish looking Vinyl. It was good to be back.

**

While he had had been gone, the work hadn’t stopped needing to be done, and when Big Mac finally rested up and was ready for it, there was plenty for him to do around the farm. There was the usual; fixing tools, pruning trees, managing the stocks of apples and so on. Apple Bloom had apparently tried her hoof at cooking while he had been gone, and managed to scorch the stovetop something fierce—and he had to clean it off. Not that he minded, it was good, honest work. However, in addition to all the normal sorts of work on Big Mac’s plate, he also had to teach Vinyl a few things about life on the farm.

Pretty quickly, it became clear that Vinyl didn’t have any idea what to do, or how to do it, and since the weather pegasi had scheduled a shorter winter than normal, there wasn’t a whole lot of time to teach her everything. Not that he was sure she’d stick around long enough to ever put that knowledge to good use.

To that end, though, Big Mac spent a far chunk of his morning setting up the practice tree. The tree had been in the family since Granny was a filly, although Big Mac wasn’t sure where exactly it came from; long since dead, they kept the tree in one of the barns so they could practice on it and keep their legs strong and their aim true when the apple trees weren’t ready to be harvested. Practicing and training; He had learned to buck trees on the old girl, just as Applejack did, and Apple Bloom was starting to, and now, so would Vinyl.

When he was satisfied it was ready, he went and found Vinyl. Easier said than done, because if she wasn’t watching him work—not that he minded—she was often all over the place, either talking with Applejack or Granny or just wandering the property. He found her eventually, and invited her back to the barn. Vinyl seemed rather eager, but it wasn’t until they were halfway there that Big Mac realized it might be because she was getting the wrong impression as to why he was inviting her to the barn in the first place.

“Here it is,” Big Mac said as he pushed the barn door open with his shoulder, letting Vinyl slip into the barn before he hauled the door shut with his teeth. Even as an Earth pony, after working—and sweating—in the barn most of the morning, the chill was particularly cutting and he had no desire to experience it further.

Big Mac turned around, only to find himself kissing Vinyl. It wasn’t unexpected, and it certainly wasn’t unwanted, but after a couple of minutes of enjoying one another, Big Mac gently pushed her away. “That ain’t why I asked you out here, Vinyl.”

“I—” Whatever Vinyl was about to say died on her lips, “Oh. Um, so…?”

Wordlessly, Big Mac gestured to the tree behind her. The practice tree, he reckoned, had at one time been an apple tree itself, but it had long since died and dried out. It sat in a pot—well, more of a tub, really—and the tub sat in a hole he had dug in the ground. There weren’t any leaves on the tree branches of course, and more than one branch had snapped off due to age and abuse. Nor were there any apples; rather, Big Mac had spent the morning hanging baubles—normally used for decorating around Hearth Warming’s Eve—on most of the branches where a pony would expect to see an apple growing. Finally, he had set up a bunch of baskets around the base of practice tree, to catch the faux apples.

All in all, Big Mac was rather proud of himself. Normally it took forever to set up, and he had to get Applejack’s help, but he had decided to do it all on his own. He sort of was hoping to surprise his sister when Vinyl could buck trees with the best of the family, and Applejack was more than a little bit sceptical that Vinyl wasn’t going to be gone within a week. She didn’t mean nothing by it, of course, but she did have a way of being blunt.

“The he—hay,” Vinyl grimaced and for once, didn’t swear. That actually hadn’t been any of Big Mac’s doing. If anything, he wished Granny hadn’t come down so hard on the mare when she caught Vinyl cussing. “The hay is this? Some sort of Hearth Warming’s Eve tree or something?” Vinyl glanced at him with a teasing gleam in her eye, “you know that’s weeks away, right?”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac chuckled, “nah, this is a so you can learn to buck an apple tree.”

“Oh,” Vinyl looked up at the tree thoughtfully, before lighting her horn up. Several of the bauble s lit up too, reminding Big Mac of how Twilight had helped clear the trees a few weeks past. Although Vinyl didn’t have her magic gripping nearly as many. Vinyl quickly pulled them off the tree and set them into the baskets below, before returning to the next bunch. It was impressive, sure, but that wasn’t the point.

“Stop.” Big Mac didn’t bother raising his voice, and besides, he wasn’t really angry. “Ya got to buck the tree, not use your magic.”

“What?” Vinyl let her magic evaporate, causing the bauble s currently held in it to drop to the floor. “Why not?”

“Just how we do it here,” Big Mac said, scuffing his hoof against the barn floor and nudging one of the fake apples back towards the basket. “Apples have always kicked the trees to get the apples out of them.”

“But…” Vinyl bit her lip and glanced at the tree’s branches above her. “I could just use my magic. I don’t know if I could buck a tree hard enough to get it to drop its apples anyway.”

Big Mac shifted uncomfortably; he didn’t really want to tell her not to use her magic, for Vinyl, as with most unicorns he suspected, her magic was part of her life. It’d be like telling a pegasus she couldn’t fly. And he didn’t want to make it harder for her than it already was for her. On the other hoof, though. “I know that, but just imagine how much more impressed Applejack and Granny will be if you show up and just buck the trees?”

Vinyl chewed her lip and glanced at the tree again, before sighing heavily. “Alright, I guess I’ll try it.” Vinyl smiled at him, “think you could show me how it’s done, Big Stuff?”

“Eeyup.” Big Mac got into position with his hind legs facing the trunk of the dead tree, and pictured in his head the right place to hit it. It wasn’t about strength, although strength helped, it was all about having a knack for the tree, knowing where to hit it. Every tree was different, of course, but he had practiced on this one so much he felt sort of like he was cheating as he lined up against the sweet spot. When he was sure he had it, he quickly kicked out with both his hind legs, grunting as his hooves connected against the trunk. He could almost feel the power flowing out of him and into the trunk.

A second later, all the ‘fruit’ dropped into the baskets.

“Wow,” Vinyl commented as Big Mac turned to look at her. “that’s impressive.”

He just shrugged and trotted over to where he had left the stepladder, since he’d have to re-hang everything now, but when he turned around, he was treated to the sight of half the baubles being back on the branches. Vinyl was using her magic to reset the tree, and for a brief moment, he almost considered telling her not to bother—her magic was more than enough. But in the end he settled for just watching.

“So I stand like this?” Vinyl adopted a stance sort of like he had done just a few minutes before, but it wasn’t completely right.

“Almost,” Big Mac trotted over and started tapping her legs and gently guiding her into the proper position. He lined her up just so her kick would connect with the right spot of the tree—he’d teach her how to identify that later, once she got the motion down. When he was satisfied she was ready, he stepped back and nodded to her.

“Here goes nothing!” Vinyl shifted her weight, and lashed out against the tree with her rear hooves. And screamed. As she struck the tree, her left hoof had missed, more or less, and her right hoof hit the tree at a bad angle.

“Fuck! FUCK!” Vinyl yelled as she hopped back and forth, holding her injured leg out from her body as if she was trying to get away from the pain. “SHIT!”

“Calm down!” Big Mac ordered as he hurried forward. As gently as he could, he took Vinyl’s right back leg in his hooves and examined the injury. It wasn’t nearly as bad as he had first though, but it looked sprained. Still probably hurt a lot though.

“Wait here, and keep it elevated,” Big Mac told Vinyl as he kicked a bale of hay towards her so she’d have somewhere to sit. Vinyl nodded through gritted teeth, and he went off to find the medical kit.

When he finally got to dressing it, Big Mac was completely convinced it wasn’t that bad, but he still gave her a pill for the pain just to be nice, then carried her back to the house on his back. Granny gave him a quizzical look, but he didn’t offer any explanation as he laid Vinyl down on the couch. He hoped it wouldn’t take too long for her to heal up, and he hoped it wouldn’t put her off trying again next time.

He brought his concerns up later that evening, and she certainly didn’t seem to be too put off what had happened.

“It was my own fault, Big Stuff,” Vinyl said with a shrug. Or at least what passed for a shrug when the two of them were lying in his bed. Unlike Vinyl’s bed back in Manehatten, his own bed wasn’t exactly built for two, and it was kind of a tight squeeze, if not a necessarily unpleasant one. “I just kicked it too hard, didn’t really do it right.”

Big Mac did his best to refrain from agreeing with her. “I should have helped you a lot more than I did.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Vinyl smiled, and the conversation moved on from there to a more physical type of conversation.

Still, by the time Big Mac rolled over and tried to get to sleep, he suspected Vinyl wasn’t completely happy.

**

When Market Day rolled around, Big Mac knew for absolute certain that Vinyl wasn’t happy living at Sweet Apple Acres. It wasn’t an unexpected thing, really, but deep down he found it still hurt.

Even though Vinyl’s leg hadn’t completely healed, she had insisted she be allowed to tag along when Big Mac took the latest bushels of apples to the market, not that any pony minded. There wasn’t a whole lot to do back at the farm on Market Day, and Vinyl couldn’t do any of it to begin with, so letting her come along seemed like a good idea, even if she eventually ended up climbing into the wagon itself alongside the apples.

Once they got there, though, she was more than helpful setting up the stand, and even Applejack seemed to be impressed with the way she managed to cut bargains with customers. Everypony seemed to be fairly interested in the fact that he had a marefriend now—much to his embarrassment—and everypony who stopped by exchanged a few words even if they weren’t buying, which was nice.

Around noon, Applejack went off to find her friends for the rest of the day, leaving him and Vinyl to manage the stand. That’s when Big Mac realized Vinyl wasn’t happy.

It was a subtle thing, really, one he probably wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t gotten to know Vinyl so intimately. When she talked to ponies, she’d perk right up, her smiles seemed a bit brighter and her eyes were a bit more excited. She had missed being social, he guessed, and as Lyra wandered by with her harp, she seemed a bit excited—and pleased when Big Mac tossed her a couple of bits.

However, he had to wait until Apple Bloom got out of school before he confronted Vinyl about it. Thankfully, the filly was more than eager to mind the stand, if only for a few minutes.

“Really?” Apple Bloom cantered in a tight circle excitedly, like Winona chasing her tail. “You mean it?”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac was already having second thoughts about it. Some days Apple Bloom seemed mature, other days, she seemed… less so. He had a sneaking suspicion that today was going to be one of the latter days. The best he could hope for, he worried, was that the stand would still be in once piece when they got back. Thankfully, they didn’t need to go too far to have some measure of privacy. “Come on, Vinyl.”

“Nice to sit down,” Vinyl commented as Big Mac helped her lie down on a grass knoll across from the market. He could sort of still see the Apple stand out of the corner of his eye, which brought him some measure of comfort, but he really didn’t want to divert his attention too much. “So why’d you ask me out here? I don’t know Apple Bloom very well, but isn’t she a bit young to watch the stand?”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac sat down beside her and pressed his flank up against hers, thinking about what to say next. “You’re not happy on the farm, are ya, Vinyl?”

“Well of course I’m…” Vinyl’s voice trailed off as she saw the look Big Mac was giving her, and sighed heavily. “No, I guess not. I thought I could handle it, but… You’re all such strong ponies, even Apple Bloom, and she doesn’t even have her cutie mark yet. I guess I know how you felt, back in Manehatten.”

“Like you don’t belong.” Vinyl nodded and looked away for a second. Big Mac took the opportunity to press his nose into her ear for a moment.

“I wish I did, though, I want to…” Vinyl sounded a bit sad, and Big Mac turned her to face him before kissing her gently on her lips.

“I know you do, Vinyl, but if you stayed with me, can you think of any way it’d end where you wouldn’t one day wake up and resent me?” Big Mac asked her, trying to make his voice as kindly as possible. “I’ve seen it before, and I’d rather we part ways and still be friends, than for you to hate me—or I you.”

Vinyl frowned at him for a moment, as she considered his words, then gave him a sad looking smile. “For a farm pony who mucks around in the mud all day, you sure can be wise, Big Stuff.”

“I don’t know about that.” Big Mac shifted uncomfortably against Vinyl, and it was her turn to kiss him back. It lingered a bit longer, and it was a bit sweeter, in some ways, but it made him feel sad, rather than happy. He was going to miss this.

When they pulled back, though, Vinyl’s sad smile had transformed into a mischievous grin, though.  “But you know, I needn’t move far…”

**

“…She decided to get a small place in town, ya see, and we dated for a little while,” Big Mac said with a shrug, as Cheerilee pulled away from him, looking thoughtful. They had been laying on the bed so long, she moved kind of stiffly—a problem he suspected he’d experience once he got moving too. “On and off, you know. But she travels around so we broke it off eventually.”

Cheerilee grinned at him and pawed his chest with her hoof; “So, you… sing?”

“Well, like I said, not well,” Big Mac shook his head. That was a road he wasn’t going to go down. “It was foolishness, really, the whole thing.”

“I don’t believe that,” Cheerilee in a firm tone of voice, one that reminded Big Mac of when he was a colt in school and the teacher would take the same tone. “I’ve spoken to Vinyl Scratch before, you know, she came in a few months ago and gave a talk on music.” Cheerilee tilted her head a grinned at him. “She didn’t strike me as the sort of mare that would give out undue compliments, even to spare a pony’s feelings.”

“So?”

“So, if she said she thought it was good, maybe it was good?” Cheerilee pulled herself a bit closer and draped herself over Big Mac, with her nose touching his. “I don’t think it was a foolish thing either. I not even sure why you thought it was particularly shameful. I knew you dated Vinyl. She told me…” Cheerilee grimaced. “And Apple Bloom, if I’m being honest.”

“I ran away because I was jealous of my sister,” Big Mac shifted out from under Cheerilee and flexed his legs before standing up.

“But you came back, that’s what’s important,” Cheerilee pointed out, to which Big Mac just grunted. He had tried to tell himself as much, but when he was retelling the story, and refreshing his memory of it as he went, he couldn’t help but think he came back because Manehatten was making him uncomfortable, not because he felt truly guilty about leaving the farm. What if his song had done well? What if he had become successful? Might he not still be in Manehatten, crawling out of bed with Vinyl or some other pony? He hadn’t thought about his trip to Manehatten in a long time, and now he wished he hadn’t.

“I can guess what you’re thinking,” Cheerilee said after a moment of watching him stretch. She was lying sprawled out on the bed, with an expression that he could only describe as disappointment on her face.

“Is that so?” He sounded more irritated than he meant to, but there was no helping it—although truthfully he was more annoyed at himself than her.

“You’re thinking you didn’t come back for the right reasons,” Cheerilee hauled herself out of the bed and poked her hoof against his chest. “I can tell you right now that those reasons don’t matter nearly as much as the fact that you came home. Do you think Applejack really cares? Or Apple Bloom?”

Big Mac frowned at her, and then sighed heavily, “I guess you’re right.”

“’course I am,” Cheerilee’s determined expression broke into a gentle smile and leaned in to kiss him softly. “I’m your mare... Big Stuff.”

Big Mac blushed, and hoped she wasn’t going to call him that all the time like Vinyl did. Even though they hadn’t really done anything in over a year, whenever she saw him, she’d still teasingly call him that. One day Apple Bloom was going to ask him to explain it, and Celestia knows that wasn’t a conversation he was eager to have with his youngest sister. Or Applejack. Or anypony. Still, it was nice to have a special somepony again, and he certainly missed the more physical aspects of having a relationship…

So he kissed her back and enjoyed every second of it.

Then the wall clock chimed out the time.

“Thanks, Celestia,” Cheerilee muttered sarcastically as she abruptly pulled away and glanced at the smaller alarm clock by her bed. Big Mac glanced too, and knew it was time to go. Technically it was his day off, but he still had a few things back at the farm he wanted to take care of before bedding down. Maybe…

“Do you think we ought to tell her?” Big Mac asked softly, “we’ve been doing this behind everypony’s back for a while, and I’m kind of getting sick of it.”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking the same thing honestly,” Cheerilee shook her head and helped him get back into his collar. “Maybe if the right time comes up and…”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac nodded, and turned towards the bedroom door. “See ya soon, snookie wookie?”

“Of course,” Cheerilee rolled her eyes dismissively, before giving him one last kiss before he trotted off. “Sooner, I’m hoping.”

Epilogue

Cheerilee swirled her cup of coffee and waited, mulling over Big Mac’s story. The stallion himself had left a few minutes before, leaving her feeling the way she always did when they parted—empty and a bit cold. She needed to get the meal ready, but it was hard to say goodbye to him and then just throw herself at the next task with wild abandon as if nothing had happened. So she had made herself a cup and just sat quietly, thinking.

In some ways she found it a bit silly, imagining him singing some sort of rap song or something. He really didn’t strike her as the sort, but that was part of the fun of getting to know him a bit more. Cheerilee smiled and chuckled softly to herself. Maybe I can convince him to sing for me, the next time we meet.

As she thought it, her good mood turned slightly sour. Big Mac was right; all this secrecy was starting to get to her too, but she still felt reluctant, given her concerns with Big Mac’s younger sister and… well, the whole thing had the potential to be a huge mess. But maybe it would be worth the risk. At least it meant she wouldn’t have to sneak around anymore, or chase Big Mac off when all she really wanted to do is snuggle up closer to him.

She took a sip of her cup, and sat it back on the table before getting up and heading for the pantry. Supper wasn’t going to make itself, and the last thing she needed was half a bunch of complaints. She got enough of that at school, she didn’t really care for it at home too.

It wasn’t a complicated meal, lots of carrots and greens and what not, although she made a point to take some fish out too, just in case. Naturally, for all her efforts and hardship in trying to get the meal ready, she was only halfway done when the kitchen door opened.

The house had two entrances, one in the front, and a door that opened into the kitchen, and of course she always used the rear-most one. Cheerilee hoped she’d grow out of this ‘embarrassed to be seen with mother’ phase soon. For the most part, she played along, even though she knew full well that outside of her cohort, almost everypony in Ponyville knew Scootaloo was her daughter. It hurt to pretend otherwise, and it hurt that Scootaloo was embarrassed that her mother was also her teacher. Cheerilee just hoped she wasn’t embarrassed of her because she was an Earth Pony, and not a pegasus like herself.

“Hi Ms. Cheerilee.” Scootaloo looked tired and more than a little dirty as she dragged herself and her scooter into the house before shutting the door behind her with a kick. “What’s for supper?”

“Can’t you call me mom when it’s just us, Scoots?” Cheerilee tried not to sigh, but it wasn’t easy.

“Fine,” Scootaloo grumbled and flicked her wings irritably, before dumping her scooter and knapsack unceremoniously next to the door and climbing up on the nearest chair. “What’s for supper, mom?”

“Salads—and fish, for you if you want them,” Scootaloo’s inability to fly was starting to worry her, but the only advice her doctor had given her was to feed the filly more fish. The only problem was, she didn’t really like fish—even after Cheerilee had told her it might help her fly.

“Ew, no thanks.”  Scootaloo shook her head and slumped against the table. Her filly had been out all day trying to get her cutie mark, and it was clear she didn’t have one yet. Cheerilee shook her head and went back to her preparations, she had been up and down that road many a time, and she doubted it was worth wasting her breath over, again. There was little point in telling her to be patient. Cheerilee giggled to herself. What if their cutie marks are in being patient? she thought to herself, before immediately feeling bad for it.

“Oh! Hey, Derpy asked me to give you this,” Scootaloo jumped off the chair and rummaged through her knapsack, only to produce a mouthful of crumpled letters. Ditzy had been trying to help her out, lately, even though Cheerilee had asked her not to, by giving her mail to Scootaloo when she saw her. The mailmare meant well, but she doubted it was going to suddenly make Scootaloo open up to her friends about her mother. Plus it made the bills wrinkly.

“It’s Ditzy, Scoots, not Derpy.” Cheerilee said for the hundredth time as she took the letters from her daughter and smoothed them out on the counter. It was the usual fare, a check from her parents, from the government, several bills that would reduce the first two letters to dust, and—

Cheerilee dropped her knife in shock as her heart started to pound. The last letter was from Soarin.

Chapter 1: Cheerilee's Story

Cheerilee grunted as she rolled out of her bed and cantered to her liquor cabinet. Her whole body ached, but it was a good sort of ache, the sort you got after a long work out… and she supposed in a way she had been working out. In a manner of speaking. She didn’t even mind that she was limping a bit—she just hoped it would go away before class started tomorrow. The last thing she needed was her students to start asking awkward questions. Well, more awkward than average, bless their little hearts.

“Can I get you anything to drink, Big Mac?” Cheerilee asked, looking over her shoulder at the stallion, who was stretched out on her bed, looking equal parts relaxed and satisfied with himself. Cheerilee smirked; she knew that look. Over the years, she had certainly seen it on her fair share of stallions.

“Nope,” Big Mac shook his head, and Cheerilee raised her eyebrow.

“Are you sure? I’ve got pretty much everything there is. Rum, Bourbon, beer…” Cheerilee paused and peered into the open cabinet, before pulling out an unopened flask, “I’ve even got an unopened bottle of last year’s Sweet Apple Cider, if you’d like that.” Cheerilee had no idea how much of a drinker Big Mac was, even if his family had been brewing cider in Ponyville for generations. Most ponies forgot just how young the town was, but Cheerilee knew it well enough, if only because she it was in her job description, sort of, to know. Up until Twilight Sparkle came into town, she was the closest the town had to a historian. “Or I could get you a glass of water, if you’d prefer. You must be thirsty after that, I know I am.”

Big Macintosh frowned thoughtfully, then shrugged, “Water’s fine, Miss Cheerilee.”

Cheerilee snorted, and shook her head. Always the polite one—however misguided those three fillies had been, they certainly knew how to pick’em. “Okay then, I’ll be right back.” She said, before trotting off the kitchen.

She didn’t own the place, not exactly; she certainly wouldn’t have been able to afford such a large house on her budget, if it weren’t for her parents sending her extra cash every month. But admittedly it wasn’t always the most private of places most of the time, and that had made dating a bit hard for Cheerilee. Thankfully, she had the place herself, at least until suppertime. Still, whatever problems the place had, they were small compared to the awkwardness that would have been present if Big Mac had taken her home, rather than the other way around.

Cheerilee knew almost all of the Apple family, at least the ones that lived locally, and had known them since she was a young filly going to the school she taught at now. Applejack hadn’t been a particularly close friend, but Cheerilee did know the mare, and she could only imagine how awkward it would be if she ran into her in the hallways of Big Mac’s house. Then there was Apple Bloom. If Cheerilee ran into her right now, she’d probably just die of embarrassment. Never mind the filly probably only had a vague sense of what adults did, it would be enough!

Plus, it’s probably not a good idea to encourage her, Cheerilee thought to herself as she filled a pitcher with tap water. Apple Bloom and her friends meant well trying to set her up with Big Mac, of course, but it could have ended a lot worse for both herself and Apple Bloom’s brother. Ultimately, between the two of them, they had decided to keep their relationship a secret for now—although they couldn’t resist a bit of fun at the fillies’ expense every now and again.

Perhaps when they three of them were older and more mature, Cheerilee would thank them, but for now it’d be for the best if they didn’t think they had a chance at getting their cutie marks in matchmaking or whatever. Assuming, of course, her relationship with Big Mac lasted that long.

Cheerilee carefully gripped the handle of the pitcher and started to head back to her room. If it hadn’t been for the love potion, Cheerilee had to admit she probably would have never have considered asking Big Macintosh out on a date. Partly because the two of them were very different ponies—she had a master’s in teaching, and he worked on a farm. Now that she had gotten to know him, however, she realized she had misjudged the stallion badly. It’s true he worked on a farm, but that didn’t mean he was stupid or slow, he just preferred to listen to talking, Cheerilee found. Once you got him to open up, however… well then he’d talk your ear off about all kinds of things, from politics to the latest in mechanized farming implements.

Getting him to open up—that was the trick, though.

As she pushed the bedroom door open, Big Mac leapt to his hooves and helped her put the pitcher safely on the nightstand while she fetched two glasses from the liquor cabinet. Truthfully, after a workout like that, her first choice was probably always going to be some sort of alcoholic drink, but if Big Mac was drinking water, it would be good enough for her too. Cheerilee didn’t want him to think she had a problem or something like that.

To Cheerilee’s surprise, as they settled back into bed, Big Mac spoke first, rather than remaining silence like normal. “While I was waitin’ for you to get back, I couldn’t help but notice that picture.” Big Mac pointed to one of the smaller pictures on her wall. She had a lot of them, and it took Cheerilee a second to pick out the other he was pointing at. “I didn’t know you surfed.”

“I don’t, not any more,” Cheerilee said as she focused on the picture. It was one of her older ones; nearly a decade had passed since. Cheerilee smiled to herself, those were the days!

“And I couldn’t help but notice you’re with a pegasus that looks a lot like…” Big Mac frowned and let his voice trail away as he thought. “I don’t know, but he looks familiar.”

Cheerilee laughed, “You mean Soarin?”

“Soarin, as in the Wonderbolt’s Soarin?” Big Mac asked, sounding and looking surprised. Cheerilee couldn’t blame him. Who would have thought she’d know the pegasus?

“The very same,” Cheerilee giggled, “although this was before he joined the Wonderbolts. We dated for a while.”

“You dated him?” Big Mac said, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Oh yes, it was a while ago now,” Cheerilee’s face turned sombre as she recalled her hellion days of youth. “Back when I was just out of highschool, I was a bit of a hoodlum, if you can believe it, and at the first chance I got, I moved away from Ponyville out to Las Pegasus. Naturally, I didn’t know anypony at the time, but I was young and I didn’t much care…”

**

Cheerilee looked around her as she stepped out of the airship and marvelled at the landscape. Las Pegasus was primarily, as its name implied, a pegasus town, which meant a good part of it was build out of clouds. But unlike Cloudsdale, which was hundreds of feet in the air and almost exclusively populated with pegasi, Las Pegasus had a sizable earth and unicorn pony population. Even though the majority of them were earthbound, they still strived to match their winged kin in sheer audacity. Rather than building close to the ground like the ponies in Ponyville did, Las Pegasus was dominated by towers that stretched high into the sky, and meshed with the various cloud formations, until the whole thing was one huge unified city structure.

She tried not to think of how far up she was.

Her airship had docked at one of the numerous towers, and she thought she’d feel safer once her hooves were on more solid footing, but the truth was now that she was off the airship, she couldn’t wait to get down to the ground. There was something utterly terrifying about being up so high, although she hadn’t felt it when she had boarded the airship in Canterlot. Maybe because Canterlot was build on a mountainside, it didn’t look as if it was as far of a drop, Cheerilee nervously mused to herself, before following the tiled arrows towards the customs and baggage.

The wait took forever, and it wasn’t long before boredom and frustration at the airport’s officials replaced her unease at being so high up. It wasn’t until she finally made her way to the elevators that Cheerilee remembered that particular fact, no thanks in part to the walls of the elevators being made out of glass rather than some sort of solid material. Whoever thought that was a good idea deserved a quick kick in the head. True, it was a beautiful vista, but Cheerilee thought she’d much rather enjoy the sights looking up at them, rather than down. Then she caught sight of the Applewood sign on the hills outside Las Pegasus, and she couldn’t help but let out an excited squeal—which drew her funny looks from the other passengers in the elevator.

Well screw them, Cheerilee thought, I’m finally here, I’m finally free!

School had always been a bit of a drag for Cheerilee, the lessons were too easy to do and the teachers, especially Mr. Ruler Snap, were total squares. They wouldn’t understand coolness if it came up and slapped them. Or kissed them. Or both. She had friends in Ponyville, it was true, and eventually she’d have to settle down and find work somewhere, but right now, Cheerilee only wanted one thing; adventure! And she was this close to getting it.

Once she was outside, she let out another squeal of joy, before reminding herself that it wasn’t really cool to squeal. “This is so radical,” Cheerilee said, trying to sound disinterested, as she looked up at the billowing clouds and towers that surrounded the airport. “Utterly awesome.”

“What is?”

Cheerilee spun around blushing; talking to herself was definitely not cool, either. She’d have to work on that—the last thing she wanted was to be seen as a country square by Las Pegasusans. If the speaker thought she was an idiot, however, he didn’t show it. He was, not unexpectedly, a pegasus, a particularly handsome one with a pale blue coat and dark blue hair. And he was smiling at her.

“Uh—uh…hi!” Cheerilee mentally grimaced. Nice going, lame-o. “I mean, ‘sup.”

“Not much, new to the city?” the pegasus said with a grin.

“Ugh, was it that obvious?” Cheerilee felt even stupider.

“Nah, you can always tell the newbies from the jaded folks,” the Pegasus said, offering her a wing. It took Cheerilee a second to realize he wanted her to shake it like a hoof. “I’m Soarin, by the way. That’s spelt like it sounds, but without the gee.”

“Cheerilee,” she said, shaking the wing delicately. Pulling his feathers out, even by accident probably wouldn’t go over well. “What brings you down to the ground, Soarin? If I had wings I’d never land.” Cheerilee blushed, what a stupid thing to say.

“Can’t fly all the time, dude,” Soarin laughed, shaking his head. “’sides, there’s loads of fun stuff on the ground.” The pegasus winked at her, making Cheerilee blush harder. “I was just saying goodbye to my buddy, she’s got to go back east.” He looked at her curiously. “What brings you here to Las Pegasus?”

“Oh, you know, I’m just…” Cheerilee’s mind started to race as she tried to think of an excuse that didn’t make her sound like a square. She didn’t have anything much in the way of a plan once she got there, but she knew what she’d like to do—clubs, parties, hanging out, whatever the cool ponies were doing. After a second Cheerilee shrugged dismissively, “just looking for a good time.”

“Well, plenty of good times around here,” Soarin said, flexing his wings. “But if you’re looking for a happenin’ place to be, swing by Sharkhead Beach tonight. We’re going to be havin’ a bonfire and the hottest DJs and shit, it’ll be great.”

“Oh yeah?” Cheerilee grinned; this was the sort of thing she wanted—cool parties and even cooler crowds. “I’ll be there.”

“Great!” Soarin gushed, before he glanced at the thick looking wristwatch on his foreleg. “Shit, I need to fly, girl, I’ll see you later!” Before Cheerilee could so much as say ‘bye’ Soarin lifted off in a gush of dust and wind, faster than any pegasus she had ever seen before. She watched his flight for a moment, before he was lost between the cloud caps around the towers.

Then she glanced around to make sure no pony was watching, before letting out a delighted squeal and clapped her hooves excitedly. She hadn’t been in Las Pegasus a whole day and she was already getting invites to parties! Clearly, her teased mane and tail were doing the trick. To think, her parents called the style ridiculous! Honestly, were there two ponies less cool than her parents? Cheerilee rolled her eyes. Oh well, she wouldn’t have to see them again.

Now all she had to do was find someplace to stay! Cheerilee grinned to herself, this is gonna be great!

**

Cheerilee’s good mood didn’t last very long, though. Back when all her hooves were in Ponyville, the idea of buying a airship ticket and moving out to one of the trendy big cities like Las Pegasus or Manehattan seemed like a good idea. Cheerilee still thought it was a good idea, but now she suspected she hadn’t really thought it out. She didn’t know anypony in Las Pegasus. Well, that wasn’t true. She knew one or two ponies, cousins of hers, but she barely knew them, and from what she had heard about them—hearsay from her parents and what not—they were as square as any of the townsfolk back in Ponyville. They owned or worked for some big corporation, something to do with steelworks. Utterly boring. And, not exactly conducive to trying to reinvent herself.

Therefore, her plan had been simple; buy a ticket to Las Pegasus, rent a hotel room somewhere, and get a job bartending or something like that, where she could be part of the scene. Back in Ponyville, the plan looked good. Except she hadn’t counted on the cost of everything, or at least the cost of renting a room in a major city.

In Ponyville, a hoof full of bits would get you a room in any of the inns at the middle of the town for a week or more. Here, to get a room for even a single night had taken almost all of Cheerilee’s money. If she didn’t eat, she might be able to have the room for a second day, but after that she’d be out on the street! The room was nice enough, with all the features anypony could ever hope to have in a hotel room, but still, what was she going to do now?

She didn’t know, and tonight she didn’t care. True, the smart plan of action might have been to go out immediately and start canvassing the city for any job openings, or even a cheaper place to sleep, but after the multi-day journey, what Cheerilee really wanted was a nap without the annoying thump-thump-thump of the airship’s rotors in her ears. When she had finally woken up several hours later, it was about time she should start to head down to the beach, and she wasted no time in heading out.

Sharkhead Beach wasn’t hard to find, although Cheerilee did have to stop several times to ask for directions as she made her way through the winding roads and between the skyscrapers to the Western Ocean. But once she started to near the place, there was no mistaking it. She had arrived just as Celestia was starting to put the sun to rest, and as Cheerilee reached the bluff overlooking the beach, she paused for a moment to watch it go down. Ponyville was so close to Canterlot that almost every filly and colt had been taken to see the Summer Sun Celebration at least once, and of course, Cheerilee had seen the sun rise and set like normal, but it hadn’t been until that moment that she really appreciated the sheer beauty of a sunset. She didn’t let her gaze linger on it for long—after a second, she looked down at the main attraction; the beach party.

It might have only just started, but it already looked like everything she had ever wanted, the sort of thing that never happened in Ponyville; there had to be at least fifty ponies, and three bonfires already slowly burning. The barbeques and coolers were off to one side, with clusters of ponies gathered around them in loose lines, while the other ponies were dancing or playing Frisbee or volleyball. Even from a distance, she could hear the music thumping. It was the heavy, thumping beat that made Cheerilee just want to dance and sway. But it’d be lame to dance by herself. On the bluff of a cliff overlooking a party.  Cheerilee found herself blushing as she hurried down the side of the bluff and over to where the other ponies were—she was going to have to work on this ‘idiot tourist thing’ if she was ever going to fit in around here.

As she got closer, the music got louder and louder until it felt like it was thumping inside her chest, and she could start to smell some of the treats being cooked on the barbecues, causing her stomach to rumble. She had slept through lunch and supper, and she hadn’t stopped to pick up anything to eat on the way over. So naturally, after a moment’s consideration, she cantered over to the nearest line, and waited her turn.

It took several minutes, but finally Cheerilee found herself practically drooling over the selection at the barbeque. The cook was a yellow-green earth stallion with a friendly expression and an apple cutie mark—he reminded Cheerilee of the Apple family back in Ponyville. It wouldn’t surprise her if he was one; the Apples seemed to have at least one member in every city and town throughout Equestria. Of course, it helped that he was serving number of apple and apple related products, although not the baked goods Cheerilee was familiar with; what exactly was an ‘apple burger’? Or for that matter, ‘apple fries’?

“What can I get you?” He asked gesturing to the selection. Cheerilee harrumphed for a moment, and glanced along the table and barbeque. She was so hungry she felt like she could eat anything, but at the same time she didn’t want to get something and not like it.

“I’ll have one of those, I guess.” Cheerilee pointed to the burgers with her hoof. At least the apple burgers looked mostly normal.

“Sure thing,” He smoothly picked up one of the apple slices from the top rack and put it between two buns. “That’ll be thirteen bits.”

Cheerilee felt her eyes widen with horror, she hadn’t brought her bit bag with her, that was back at the hotel—she hadn’t wanted to have it stolen, not to mention walking around with saddlebags wouldn’t be terrible cool. You could only do so much with saddlebags, after all.

“Um, well,” Cheerilee stammered, “I think I forgot my b-bit bag… urm…”

The stallion frowned, and started to pull the plate away. “This ain’t no charity, filly, if you can’t pay, you can’t eat.”

“But I’m hungry!” Cheerilee grumbled, and reached out to grab onto the plate’s edge. It was foolish really, what was she going to do, grab the burger and run off to eat it in some dark corner?

“So? I’ve got to eat too—now move along!” The stallion wiggled his hoof under her nose, before yanking the plate out of her hoof and setting it back on the table. Cheerilee stared at it for a moment, then snorted dismissively and tried to walk away while looking dignified. Cheerilee could feel another blush coming on, and deep down she was rather mortified. She hadn’t gone two steps before she slammed into another pony.

“Whoa there,” Cheerilee blinked in surprise as she found herself staring the blue pegasus she had just walked into. Then she recognized him as the stallion who had given her the invite right away—there was simply no mistaking Soarin’s wide, goofy grin or athletic body. “What’s going on here?”

“This fool mare forgot her wallet,” the cook said, shaking his head.

“Is that so?” Soarin said, giving Cheerilee an extra wide smile. “I know you; you’re the newbie from the airport, aren’t you?” Before Cheerilee could answer, Soarin turned back to the cook. “Tell you what, put it on my tab, would ya Gravy? And give me one too, oh, and two beers.”

Gravy stared at Soarin for a moment, before shrugging. “so long as somepony pays, I’m fine with it.” Gravy passed Cheerilee back her plate, and served up a second one for Soarin. Then he bent down behind the table and pulled out two bottles of beer, and passed those to Soarin as well. Cheerilee hadn’t even considered asking for beer before—back in Ponyville the drink of choice was cider, and that went for Cheerilee as well. Different places probably had different tastes. Soarin nodded his thanks to Gravy and headed over to a flat rock some distance away.

“Cheerilee, wasn’t it?” Soarin asked as he dropped the bottles by the rock and flopped down on top of it. “I guess I should have told you the food wouldn’t be free.”

“I’ll pay you back,” Cheerilee promised as she sat down beside the rock and tried not to sound too grateful. It wasn’t that she wasn’t grateful, of course, but she didn’t want to gush either. “Just as soon as I get a job.”

“A job?” Soarin chuckled. “Girl, I thought you came to hang in the city of pegasi?”

“I did, but that was before I spent half my savings on a stupid hotel room.” Cheerilee sighed, before biting into her burger. It was surprisingly good, rich with sweet juices and flavours. Before she thought about what she was doing, she wolfed the rest of the burger down, only to realize she hadn’t paused to savour it. It’d probably be her last meal for a while, and she still felt hungry.

“Pff, hotel room? I call that gettin’ tricked by business!” Soarin said, bumping his hoof against Cheerilee’s withers. “Look it, I can see this is stressing you out; I’ve got a couch, it’s not much, but why don’t you come crash with me?”

“What, really?” Cheerilee felt her eyebrows shoot up on her forehead. She had only just met the pony—and there was the small problem that any place Soarin called home was probably going to be mostly clouds.

“Sure! I’ve got this beach house down yonder,” Soarin said, gesturing vaguely down the beach. “I wouldn’t want you to come all this way, only to find yourself dragged down by the man and workin’ all day.” Soarin shrugged and picked up one of the beers, before cracking the cap off it and taking a swig.

Cheerilee took the other beer and opened it as she thought. Crashing on Soarin’s couch wouldn’t exactly resolve her money issue, and she’d probably still need to find work somewhere soon, but at least she wouldn’t be worrying about living on the streets in a day or so. Besides, Soarin seemed nice, and she liked him. “Well, if you’re serious, it sounds great, Soarin,” Cheerilee said, before taking a quick drink from her beer. The taste wasn’t quite what Cheerilee was expecting, but still enjoyable. Perhaps she’d have to broaden her horizons in the future when it came to drinks. Who knew what she was missing out on?

“Excellent!” Soarin’s grin grew wider. “You’ll have to deal with my roommate, though, he’s a bit of a grump at times.”

“Probably still better than living on the streets,” Cheerilee mused between drinks.

“That’s the spirit!” Soarin leapt up into the air and started to hover—although he was considerate enough not to angle his downbeats so the sand flew up into her face. “Listen, I’ve got to go hang with a few peeps and shoot the breeze, you just enjoy yourself, ya hear? I’ll come get you a bit later and show you the place.” Soarin gave her a wink and a wave as he buzzed off over the partygoers.

Cheerilee just sat there for a couple of minutes, nursing her drink, and slowly she started to grin. Even if it didn’t solve all of her problems, she couldn’t help but feel like a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. And crashing on friend’s couches had to be one of the raddestways of staying somewhere—not to mention she had just made a new friend on her first day in the city. A friend with his own beach house. She momentarily frowned as she got to the bottom of her beer—of course that one beer and burger were the only things she was going to eat or drink tonight, assuming Soarin didn’t swoop in to be generous again.

She trotted off to find a trashcan for the beer bottle, before turning to the dancing ponies swaying to the music on the beach. At least the dancing was free! Cheerilee thought to herself, before plunging into the crowd.

**

When Cheerilee woke up the next morning, it took her a moment to figure out where she was. Then she smiled. The party must have lasted until the wee hours, although she had no way of telling the time when Soarin finally came to find her as the party was starting to wind down. But it had been late, and even now her muscles were sore and stiff—although that might have to do partly with spending the night on Soarin’s couch. It was more than big enough for her to stretch out on, but it was a bit lumpy and old looking. Still, it was free.

Cheerilee sat up, threw off her blankets, and got up, stretching a bit. She could hear and feel her spine popping, but at least it got some of the stiffness out of her muscles. Finally, she took a moment to look around the room.

It wasn’t as if Cheerilee had ever really seen a beach house before, Ponyville was landlocked and no one had ever bothered to building such a thing on the shores of any ponds or reservoirs that surrounded it. Yet, Soarin’s Beach house was pretty much what Cheerilee would have imagined. Last night she hadn’t got a good look at it from the outside or the inside, but it was very open and airy, with lots of sunlight coming in through the windows that overlooked the beach.

Most of the furniture was old looking, and all of it was mismatched, looking as if they came off street corners. On the walls, there were a couple of zebra masks, but Cheerilee suspected they were probably fake. But what really dominated the room were these strange, oblong boards of wood, all of which were colourful and garishly painted. Some of them hung on hooks on the wall, while others just leaned up against it. Soarin sure had some strange tastes in art—they looked okay individually, but they didn’t really match the décor or one another. Cheerilee snickered to herself. Décor? She was turning into Rarity! Besides, who was she to question what her host thought was good art?

Stifling a yawn, Cheerilee cantered around the couch and wondered where the washroom was; she couldn’t hear Soarin up, but given how much partying he had done last night, that didn’t really surprise her. Cheerilee frowned at the two exits of the room, before picking the farther one.

It led to a hallway dominated by pictures and little else; despite what her bladder was telling her, Cheerilee couldn’t help but slow down and look some of them over. Most of them, to no pony’s surprise, featured Soarin, along with other ponies. Sometimes they were just group shots, other times they were doing some sort of activity—like hang gliding or mountain climbing. Why a pegasus would do either was beyond her. What was really interesting, besides Soarin’s eccentric tastes in sports, was the sheer variety of places and ponies. Some of the pictures were clearly taken in Las Pegasus—including one featuring the Applewood sign in the background—but others were from what looked like Cloudsdale, and beyond. Several of them had Soarin with several ponies from Saddle Arabia, and one with several Zebra tribemares.

Cheerilee pursed her lips as she finally tore herself away from the pictures and hurried down the hallway in search of a washroom—only to find herself in the kitchen, and it wasn’t empty.

Sitting at the kitchen counter, and looking over a copy of the Las Pegasus Times, was what Cheerilee assumed with the mysterious roommate that Soarin had warned her about. Except he hadn’t said she had already met him; it was the yellow-green earth pony from last night. He didn’t look up right away, until he reached for his cup next to the paper. Gravy stared at her for a brief moment, before snorting and rolling his eyes.

“Good morning anonymous mare number seven hundred and fifty-two,” Gravy said as he turned back to his newspaper. “Hope you… slept well.”

“Wh…” Cheerilee stopped herself and frowned. Did she really want to get into an argument with this idiot? “Where’s the washroom?”

“Down the other hall, on your right,” Gravy gestured vaguely with his cup and Cheerilee headed down the hall he had indicated. Finding the appropriate room wasn’t hard, thankfully, and before long Cheerilee was back in the kitchen, ready to start the day properly; with a cup of coffee.

“Help yourself,” Gravy muttered as Cheerilee poured herself a cup. It wasn’t the best coffee she had ever had, and if she spent any amount of time there, she was going to have to teach these colts the proper way to brew a pot.

“What did you mean?” Cheerilee asked as she sipped her coffee and eyed the cupboards; if she was going to be a guest of Soarin’s, perhaps she could make herself useful making breakfast. “And what do you colts usually eat for breakfast?”

“Making breakfast? That’s a first. Eggs would probably be fine,” Gravy said. “And I meant you’re the seven hundred and fifty-second mare Soarin’s brought home.”

Did Soarin really have that many—Cheerilee’s train of thought cut off as it dawned on her what Gravy was saying, and she blushed hard. “Oh,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. Thankfully, she didn’t have to face the stallion as she started work on breakfast for the three of them. She wished Gravy had been a bit more specific, but she decided that simpler was better, and scrambling the eggs.

“Aww,” Gravy sneered, or at least, it sounded like he was sneering. “Don’t tell me you thought you were special?”

“I—”

“Whoa, what’s that smell?” Soarin’s voice rang out. Cheerilee glanced over her shoulder in time to see the pegasus trot into the room, looking as if he had just rolled out of bed. Soarin yawned and blinked, then grinned at her. “No way, Cheerilee, you don’t have to cook!”

“If your lay wants to cook for us, let her cook!” Gravy said, waving his coffee cup in the air. “I have to put up with this crap enough as it is, I might as well get a good meal out of it.”

“Lay?” Soarin said, sounding mystified, before it seemed to dawn on him what his roommate was saying. “Oh! No, no bro, you’ve got it all wrong. Cheerilee’s just crashin’ on our couch for a while, that’s all.”

“And I’m more than happy to help out, where I can,” Cheerilee added as she finished the first batch of scrambled eggs and started adding some cheese and other odds and ends to the eggs. “I’m not sure why you’re so grumpy, Gravy.”

Gravy grumbled something under his breath, which Cheerilee didn’t catch, although Soarin just chuckled.

“Gravy here’s just a sourpuss,” Soarin said with a laugh, “his parents should have named him crabapple!”

“You’d probably still get my name wrong,” Gravy said, “it’s Gravenstein, not Gravy!”

Cheerilee giggled to herself as she finished up the first batch and served them onto a plate. She thought about giving them to Soarin first, before setting the plate down in front of Gravy—or Gravenstein. Sourpuss or not, hopefully she’d be able to ingratiate herself with the stallion, and maybe he’d be a bit pleasanter and easier to live with. “I’ll get yours next,” Cheerilee said, looking at Soarin. Her friend wasn’t really looking at her though—he was busy staring out the window with a huge grin on his face.

“No rush, Cheers,” Cheerilee blinked as she did a double take. Soarin seemed like the sort of pony to give nicknames to everyone he met, but Cheers? Her uncle called her that! “Oh sweet Celestia, look at those waves out there, Gravy.”

“I noticed,” Gravy commented, sounding somewhat annoyed. Cheerilee wondered what was special about the ocean waves as she started on Soarin’s breakfast. “But—”

“No buts, my very radical pony,” Soarin cut his friend off. “I’ll go round up the gang—the surf’s totally up!”

“Soarin, you can’t keep missing work!” Gravy said with a hiss, “or at the very least, I can’t. You’ve already got me to book off next week when the surge is coming through here; you can’t take time off now.”

“When the surf’s up man, the surf’s up,” Soarin said, sounding as if he was repeating a rather profound piece of wisdom. “Mother Nature waits for no pony.”

“What are you two talking about?” Cheerilee asked, as she started to add in the extra bits to the next batch of scrambled eggs.

“What are we talkin’ about? Surfing of course!” Soarin looked like he was ready to jump of his seat with excitement. “The greatest gift Celestia ever gave ponykind!”

“Never heard of it,” Cheerilee said truthfully.

“Oh wow, really?” Soarin looked like he was going to freak out. “Never heard of surfing?! You’ve been missing out!” His frown turned back into a grin in the blink of an eye. “I’ve got an idea, how about I teach you to surf?  My buddy left her board here and everything, it’ll be perfect!”

“Oh, uh, sounds cool?” Cheerilee hid her frown by looking away from her host. What the hay was surfing? Now now, Cheerilee, a voice inside her head said firmly, didn’t you come all this way to experience newer, awesome stuff? Soarin is pretty darn cool, if he likes it, this ‘surfing’, it must be badass. Cheerilee chuckled to herself. Now she was going crazy. “I should probably hit the hotel for the rest of my stuff, though, before they throw it out in the trash.” Cheerilee slid the second batch of scrambled eggs onto a plate, turned around, and passed it to Soarin.

“No problem, Cheers,” Soarin started wolfing down on the meal before he even sat it down. “It’ll probably take me an hour to round up the gang, even with these wings.” Soaring flicked the appendages. “You’re just going to love surfing, I just know it!”

By the time Cheerilee managed to make her own scrambled eggs, Gravenstein had packed up and left for work, muttering all the way about lazy idiotic pegasi, and Soarin had zipped out to find his friends, but not before lending her his key, so she could lock up after herself. The night before, Cheerilee could have sworn Soarin’s beach house wasn’t all that far from where the party had been, but it took her nearly an hour to retrace her steps back to the burnt out remains of the bonfires, and another hour to weave her way through the city to her hotel room.

The receptionist gave her a hard stare as she checked out—probably because Cheerilee hadn’t slept in the hotel room she had paid for the day before and complained about the cost every moment she was doing so. Admittedly, she did feel a bit put out for wasting half her bits on it, but at least now she wouldn’t be penniless by day’s end.

When she finally got back to the beach house, Soarin was already there on the patio and waiting with five other ponies, of all sexes and types—including a tried looking thestral—along with the painted boards Cheerilee had seen in the beach house’s den.

“Yo Cheers,” Soarin spotted her right away, and waved his wing tip at her as she pushed the patio door open and stepped out onto it. “This is the pony I was telling you about, guys.”

“Hello,” Cheerilee smiled nervously. It was one thing to hang out with strangers at a party—there you were just another face in the crowd rather than somepony.

“Let me introduce everypony—“ Soarin said, before rapidly naming off each of his friends. Cheerilee tried to follow but after the third pony, she was completely lost. Still, she put on a brave face and nodded anyway. There’d be plenty of time to learn all of Soarin’s friends later. She hoped. “Anywho, that’s everypony.” Soarin finished, clapping his hoof against the patio deck. “Let’s get surfin’!”

“I still don’t know what surfing is,” Cheerilee pointed out, before immediately regretting it. Good job looking cool, you idiot, she thought to herself as the Soarin’s friends burst out laughing. At her.

“Celestia’s crib, Soarin’, where did you find this kook?” One of the unicorns snorted as she eyed Cheerilee suspiciously. She was green, and Cheerilee decided to nickname her Spearmint, since she seemed to be rather sharp.

“Guys, chill.” Soarin’ flicked his wing dismissively. “I know she’s new to it, but we all were at first.”

“It’s one thing to be new, Soarin, it’s something else to completely ignorant,” the Thestral said, sounding tired. Perhaps Pillow would be a good nickname for him. Since he looked like he desperately wanted one. “She’ll just hold us back. No offense,” he added, glancing over to Cheerilee.

“Lookit, if you guys want to go catch some waves on your own, that’s fine by me, but I promised Cheerilee I’d teach her to surf.” Soarin sounded serious—surprisingly so, although, to be fair, Cheerilee had only known the pegasus for slightly less than twenty-four hours. “And a promise is a promise. And besides, you all know we need another pony if we’re going to enter that contest.”

“Yeah yeah, the only thing she’d win us is last place,” Celestia Lite said, another unicorn like Spearmint—except the mare was unusually leggy and thin, and her coat was brilliantly white. Even though she wasn’t an alicorn, Cheerilee found herself reminded of Celestia; although her mane and tail were pink rather than the rainbow of colours the princess had. “We’ll catch you later, have fun playing with the newbie.”

Cheerilee bit her lip as she watched the five ponies grab a board each and hop down off the patio onto the sand. Soarin watched them go with a frown on his muzzle, and Cheerilee watched Soarin. She hoped she hadn’t caused trouble for him with his friends—just because they were a bit mean to her didn’t mean they weren’t good ponies.

“Um, maybe I should just sit this out, Soarin,” Cheerilee said meekly, “I appreciate the offer and all, but I don’t want to cause you to get in trouble with your friends—”

“Nah, don’t you mind them,” Soarin shook his head and turned to Cheerilee, once more grinning widely. “I just know you’re going to love surfing.” Cheerilee opened her mouth, but Soarin cut her off before she could formulate her question. “Surfing, basically, is using a board like this—” Soarin slapped one of the two remaining boards still leaning up against the patio railing “—to catch waves and ride them.”

“Ride them?” Cheerilee frowned and looked out over the ocean. Ponyville didn’t have anything like that, even their largest lakes weren’t close to being considered ‘big’. Those lakes had waves too, but they were nowhere as large as the waves Cheerilee could see forming and crashing apart offshore. They were supposed to ride them? On a piece of wood? Cheerilee swallowed nervously. “Isn’t that kind of dangerous?” Cheerilee asked as she turned back to Soarin.

“A bit, but that’s part of the fun!” Soarin patted her on her flank with his wing. “What’s the point in living, if there isn’t some risk involved, eh?” His expression softened slightly. “Don’t worry Cheers, when you fall in I’ll be there to help you—you do know how to swim, though, right?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Cheerilee nodded; she did know how to swim, but her experience with swimming was primarily in the watering holes and ponds around Ponyville. She wasn’t really sure how strong of a swimmer she’d be in the ocean, but she also didn’t want to come off as a square either. Pillow was right, she really didn’t know anything.

“Excellent!” Soarin grabbed one of the two boards; it was a shade of orange that reminded Cheerilee of a sunset, with a black racing stripe down the middle—it took her a second, but then she realized the symbols near the tip of the board were stylized versions of Soarin’s cutie mark—a winged lightning bolt. It must be his personal board. As he flipped it over, Cheerilee could see there was a fin pointing out of the rear of the board too. “We can go over the details later, but let me show you how you stand on one of these—that board’s yours, by the way, if you want to practice.” Soarin pointed to the other board with his hoof as he laid his board down onto the patio.

That board looked much the same as Soarin’s, except that it was a dull white with a blue racing stripe and the stylized music notation—Cheerilee thought it was two eighth notes joined together or something, but she wasn’t an expert. After a moment’s hesitation, Cheerilee put the board down on the patio besides Soarin’s, as the pegasus hopped onto his and started to explain the ins and outs of balancing on the surfboard.

All together, it seemed like an awful lot of information to take in—and much of it, Soarin warned, had to be done to be learned. Nevertheless, Soarin was amazing patient with her, answering all of her questions, including the ones she was certain were idiotic or stupid. Cheerilee wondered if she’d ever be able to do that. With a snort, she shook the thought clear of her head. She’d dwell on that in the future.

But eventually she had to get in the water.

“Come on Cheerilee, it’s great!” Soarin called. The minute Soarin had decided the lessons were done, the stallion had grabbed his board and darted out over the ocean under his wing power, before dropping the board and landing on it. Now he was bobbing out a few dozen meters into the ocean, waving his hooves at her while Cheerilee stood just inside the surf, her hooves slowly sinking into the waterlogged sand. “It’s not cold or anything, I promise.”

Cheerilee grimaced, as if she hadn’t heard that line before half a dozen times, right before she jumped into an utterly freezing pond or river. Still, she hadn’t come all this way just to stay at home, and Soarin had been kind of enough to give her a chance... Cheerilee sighed and with a deep breath, galloped into the surf.

Under the waves, the sand sloped downward very gradually, and by the time she was out to where Soarin was floating, she was only up to her neck in the water. To her surprise, it actually wasn’t that cold, although it certainly wasn’t anywhere as warm as the air. On the other hoof, it was rather refreshing—it had been starting to get muggy out, hotter than what she had experienced growing up in Ponyville.

Soarin grinned at her cheekily as Cheerilee struggled to keep her board from floating away. She was glad it was attached to her hind-leg with a lash—finally she managed to jump on it awkwardly and push it down under her, pulling herself up on top of it before the naturally buoyant piece of wood. Within seconds, she lifted out of the water—at least her front end. Her legs still dangled over the side in the water.

“Alright, let’s get going,” Soarin said, before spinning around in the water and assuming a similar prone position on the board. Cheerilee copied him, and started to paddle out to sea. They could catch waves closer to shore, but they wouldn’t really give her the experience of actually surfing—at least according to Soarin—so they had to get out further. Unlike Soarin, however, who was using his wings to propel himself along, Cheerilee only had her hooves, and it was exhausting work.

It took them nearly half an hour—at least by Cheerilee’s estimation since she didn’t have a watch—to get to a spot where Soarin though they could catch a ‘good wave’, although she really wasn’t sure what Soarin was looking for. Still, it was good to rest her forelegs and let her muscles relax.

“D-do you do this often?” Cheerilee panted as she flexed stretched her forelegs out on the board top, out of the numbing water. Soarin didn’t seem to be even breathing heavily as he sat up on his board and scanned the ocean-ward horizon. “Surfing, I mean.”

“Every chance I get,” Soarin sounded like he was only half-paying attention. “Lot of pegasi don’t like it, but not me, I think it’s the bomb.” Soarin flashed her a grin. “And you’ll love it too, once you’ve got a chance to ride a real wave. Don’t worry; you’re doin’ great so far.”

“Thanks,” Cheerilee hauled herself up and out of the water too, assuming a position like Soarin.

“No problem girl, I—oh here we go,” Soarin pointed at a large swell of water headed their way. Soarin dipped his hooves into the water and started to turn his board around. Cheerilee copied the stallion again until she was in a similar position, although pointed in another direction. Soarin had warned her to be careful not to get too close to other surfers.

Cheerilee glanced over her shoulder, and, as Soarin had showed her on the patio, started paddling towards shore as the wave started to push the board up against her chest, and forward. Now came the hardest part; standing up without falling off. It had to be a quick, smooth motion, and Celestia knew Soarin had made her practice enough times on shore. She glanced over her shoulder, then at Soarin, who was tensing up in preparation. As she watched, her friend leapt to his hooves, swaying a bit then angling the board away, down the edge of the wave. Here goes nothing! Cheerilee gritted her teeth and hopped up herself.

She was nowhere as graceful at it as Soarin had been, and she ended up nearly throwing herself off the board before she got it under control, but then… As the wave started to break, Cheerilee shifted the board to force it further down the massive swell, at a bit of an angle to prolong the ride as much as possible. It was amazing; this must be what it’s like to fly, she thought as she started to grin. Really fly, that was, under her own power and not in some sort of machine. Within a few moments of standing up, Cheerilee was already moving pretty fast, and she shifted her weight a bit to run it ever so slightly, heading further along the wave.

Once Cheerilee thought she was stable enough that she wouldn’t crash, she glanced over her shoulder in the direction Soarin had gone—and watched as the stallion flipped the board over the top of the wave front and back down. He must have caught her looking, because he started to wave his wing at her and shout something, but the roar of the ocean drowned him out.

Laughing gleefully, Cheerilee turned back to the wave in front of her—only to realize Soarin was probably shouting a warning. In front of her, the wave was breaking and curling over, forming a tunnel of water—one that Cheerilee could see had no exit. Gasping, she tried to turn the board around, but the act of trying to make such a sharp turn only threw her off the surfboard and into the collapsing wave.

Thankfully, at the last moment she managed to breathe deep before she went under, but by the time she fought her way to the surface, her lungs were burning. Cheerilee tossed her head back as she broke the surface and took a couple of shuddering gasps before she looked around for her board. It hadn’t gone far, and it only took her a couple of seconds before she was flopped out on it. Her muscles were aching and it felt like she was a piñata. For a couple of moments she just sat there and rested, rocking with the smaller waves as they came, until she heard a buzzing.

Looking up, Cheerilee saw Soarin madly flapping his wings behind him, causing the board the skip along the surface of the ocean like a rock—to her surprise, the stallion looked rather concerned.

“Are you okay, Cheers?” Soarin called as he got closer, turning and spraying water over Cheerilee to bleed off his speed. She didn’t mind, she was already soaked—probably ruined her hair too.

Was she okay? Cheerilee frowned as she thought the question through; true, her body ached and she was probably the wettest she had been in all her life, but… under all that there was something else. A certain desire, an eagerness; she wanted more! Cheerilee grinned widely at Soarin as the pony finally got within talking range. She opened her mouth to assure her friend she was fine, but burst out laughing.

“Cheerilee?” Soarin asked, now sounding even more concerned.

“That. Was. Awesome!” Cheerilee finally forced out, slamming her hoof against he board’s surface. “Let’s go again!”

Soarin’s worried expression evaporated. “I knew it; I knew it! As soon as I saw you, I said to myself, here’s a natural born surfer!” Soarin’s grin subsided slightly, “are you sure you want to go again though? That was a hay of a wipe-out, it looked like the wave sucked you in and gave you a good washing.”

“I’m on one piece, aren’t I?” Cheerilee retorted, before letting go of the board and repositioning herself on it so she could paddle properly. “Come on, I’m already soaked, there’s no point in quitting now.”

“Aw yeah,” Soarin’s grin returned, “just remember to check the handedness of the wave before y’all ride off into it.”

“That,” Cheerilee gritted her teeth as she started to paddle back out to where they could catch the waves, the one they had been riding had deposited them quite close to shore, “is something I’ll keep in mind.”

**

By the time Cheerilee and Soarin finally allowed themselves to be swept to shore, Cheerilee’s legs were shaking, and her mane and coat were completely soaked. More than anything she felt like she could crash onto Soarin’s couch and sleep for at least forever, if not two forevers. However, Cheerilee was also starving, and more importantly she was somewhere between soaked and dry, and the parts of her that were drying out were starting to become stiff and crusted with salt. The idea of salty water was new to her, and the sensation of her fur being stiff with salt crystals was more than a bit unpleasant.

Thankfully, the solution to both problems was back at Soarin’s place. Soarin offered to whip something together to eat, while Cheerilee took a shower. Given the coffee she had… enjoyed that morning, Cheerilee was somewhat sceptical that the pegasus could make a meal, but with her body protesting every step she took, she didn’t exactly have much choice in the matter.

After spending most of the day soaked to the bone, it felt rather strange at first to step into the shower’s spray at first, but then the warm water started to wash away the sand and salt caking her body and by the time Cheerilee was drying herself, she felt completely refreshed. Well, not completely. Her muscles still ached and she was still weary to the bone, but at least she didn’t feel like she was going to drop over any second.

Once she was reasonably dry, Cheerilee wiped the steam off the bathroom mirror off with her towel to get a look at the damage to her mane. Unfortunately, the salt water and the insane tumbles she took had pretty much destroyed the work she had put into her mane and tail. The hairs hung limp and floppy, sticking out at odd angles—and reminded Cheerilee of the way some of Soarin’s friends had their manes styled. In the end Cheerilee decided to leave it; if she was going surfing again, and she certainly was, it wasn’t worth the effort to fix it.

To Cheerilee’s surprise, Soarin had decided to make grilled corn for their meal, despite the fact that she was certain that there hadn’t been corn in the refrigerator or pantry when she had hopped in the shower. It was also surprising; however, that Soarin seemed to be preparing far more than just enough for himself and Cheerilee—even if she expected Gravenstein to join them. After all, it wasn’t as if it was a date or something silly like that. Just the thought made Cheerilee blush.

After a moment’s thought, Cheerilee realized the rest of Soarin’s friends were probably going to be joining them. They did seem to store their boards there, and Soarin’s beach house would be a natural choice to hang out at, since it was so close. Never mind that Soarin and Gravenstein both knew how to cook, even if they didn’t know how to brew a pot of coffee. Hopefully they wouldn’t be so… dismissive of her.

Sure enough, as Cheerilee’s stomach started to growl for the umpteenth time, and just before Soarin assured her the meal would be ready to eat, Soarin’s friends stomped up the patio stairs. They were laughing and talking loudly, and didn’t waste any time dropping their boards off up against the railing and barging their way into the kitchen.

“Hey guys,” Soarin said, waving his wing lazily. “Food’s almost ready, just take a seat.”

Cheerilee half expected them to march back out the door and sit outside, but instead they pulled up cushions and all of them sat around the kitchen island, putting Cheerilee in the awkward position of being sandwiched between Celestia Lite and a brown earth stallion Cheerilee decided to call Hot Coffee. Cheerilee hadn’t spent more than a few minutes with these ponies, and she could already tell by the way the stallion was eyeing Celestia Lite he was clearly interested in her. What a dope, Cheerilee felt like rolling her eyes, but resisted the temptation.

Eventually she was going to have to learn these ponies’ names, if only because it was going to be rather embarrassing if she started to call them by their nicknames by accident.

Soarin saved her from thinking too much by plopping a well-cooked corn cob down in front of her, and every other pony at the table. It was a bit difficult eating with her shoulders pressed up against the other ponies, but she managed, and to Cheerilee’s delight, it tasted as good as it smelled.

About halfway through her second cob, Gravenstein returned home, and Soarin served his roommate up as well, although Gravenstein merely scowled at him and didn’t say anything in the way of thanks.

For the most part, everypony besides Soarin—and Gravenstein, if she counted the slightly less severe frown Gravenstein gave her as a greeting—ignored Cheerilee. In fact, it wasn’t until Cheerilee was finishing her second cob that anypony bothered to even ask her a question.

“So, newbie, how badly did you wipe out?” Celestia Lite said, as she dabbed her lips lightly with a cloth. For someone who spent her time hanging out in the surf, Celestia Lite certainly seemed high class—her cutie mark was even a trio of fleur de lis, one of the royal symbols.

Cheerilee took a bite of her cob, buying herself time to think. She considered lying or stretching the truth, but perhaps if she admitted her lack of skill honestly; it might help her connect with Soarin’s friends. She also thought about asking for a third cob even though she was well stuffed now—they were good eating and good distractions if you needed to buy time to answer a question. Cheerilee suspected she might need a lot of that.

“Pretty badly,” Cheerilee gave a half-hearted smile, “the first wave I rode, I went right into the tunnel as it was collapsing.” Not wanting to sell it short, Cheerilee hastened to add, “It was pretty fun though; I can see why you ponies like it.”

“She’s a natural,” Soarin said, as he sat down at the only remaining spot at the island with his own cobs. “You should have seen her—she might have wiped but she rode it like she was born doing it. Not to mention she didn’t hesitate to climb back on.” Soarin flashed Cheerilee a smile, and she blushed a bit at his praise. She hadn’t been that good. “I wish you guys had seen her, rather than bailin’ on us.”

“Soarin, we were trying to get ready for this contest—it’s cute you’re trying to teach your fillyfriend and everything, but we need focus if we’re going to win!” Spearmint leaned on the table and shook her hoof in Cheerilee’s direction. “This might be the only day we get to practice before the storm, and you wasted it, like a Discord damned fool.”

“I didn’t waste it!” Soarin said as Cheerilee added, “We’re not dating or anything.”

“Seriously?” Pillow shook his wings, snapping out of the trance he had been almost all evening. Cheerilee wondered if thestrals slept during the day or something. “You mean to tell us you’re not even getting tail from this kook?” Pillow flinched and glanced at Cheerilee. “No offense.”

“Right,” Cheerilee said dryly, and tried not to blush. “What’s this contest you guys keep bringing up?”

“These surf-heads are talking about a contest that some of the local businesses are putting on ahead of the storm.” Gravenstein explained, stepping back into the kitchen. “Storm surges produce some of the best waves.”

“Surf-heads? You’re in this thing too,” Hot Coffee pointed at the Gravenstein with his hoof, “and where the hay where you today anyway?”

“At work, like I’msupposed to be, like we’re all supposed to be,” Gravenstein dropped his plate into the kitchen sink, and turned around to face the group.

“When the surf’s up, bro, you’ve got to take advantage of it,” this pony was another pegasus, who looked a whole lot like Soarin. The two ponies were almost the same colouration in their coats and manes, and Cheerilee wondered if they were twins or something. Perhaps she’d call her Breezy. “Can’t fight Mother Nature.”

“Says the weather pegasus,” Gravenstein snorted and shook his head. “Speaking of which, Soarin, Grills fired you for not showing up today.”

“Yikes.” Soarin didn’t sound all that upset or dismayed, at least not to Cheerilee’s ear. “Oh well.”

“Oh well?” Gravenstein said, cocking his eyebrow. “Soarin, if you can’t hold down a steady job, you’re never going to get into the Wonderbolts.”

“Look, let’s get back to this contest,” Celestia Lite tapped her hoof on the counter. “Are you serious about this thing or not, Soarin?”

“Of course I am,” Soarin said as he got up and headed over the fridge, “anypony want a beer?”

“Don’t change the subject, Soarin, we need to get another pony, if we’re going to enter,” Pillow rubbed his eyes with his hooves, then turned to Cheerilee; “Normally we’d be judged individually, but for this they’ve decided to make us compete as a team.”

“Yeah, our scores will be averaged,” Hot Coffee said, motioning at Soarin for a beer.

“So it’s not a weighted average?” Cheerilee asked—it probably wouldn’t be, but it seemed a bit harsh to judge a whole group by the failure of a single pony—or allow a group to coast on the success on a few.

The whole table stared at her. “A what average?” Spearmint narrowed her eyes at her, as if Cheerilee had grown a second head or something.

Cheerilee blushed and shook her head, “it’s—never mind, it’s not important.” She’d have to keep in mind these ponies probably weren’t into mathematics or similar things. Not that she was, strictly speaking. It certainly wasn’t particularly radical or far out to start going on about statistics.

“Right…” Celestia Lite said, breaking the awkward silence, before turning back to Soarin. “So we need a good surfer on the team so we don’t get screwed.”

“We’re already kind of screwed.” Spearmint shook her head, “VS was one of our best surfers, and I can’t believe she’s gone back east on us. And now, of all times.”

“She has her career to think about, and it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity,” Soarin said, returning to the table and passing Hot Coffee his beer. “I mean, if I got an opportunity to join the Wonderbolts, I’d be out of here in a flash—I love you guys, but seriously, you can’t pass up opportunities like that.”

“Well, hold that thought, Soarin,” Breezy said, smirking, “it might interest you to know that I heard from Big Wings at work that Spitfire is going to be flying down as a guest judge. And they’ve added a party with her as part of the jackpot.”

Cheerilee flinched as Soarin spat his mouthful of beer across the table.

“What?”

“Well, technically she’s flying down to keep an eye on the storm, part of the regulations or whatever, but she’d going to step in and be one of the judges too, for the hell of it,” Breezy explained, for all her mannerisms earlier, she clearly wasn’t as laid back as Cheerilee had originally thought.

“I bet this kook isn’t looking too good now, is she?” Celestia Lite commented.

Cheerilee bit her lip, and wondered if she should say something. She didn’t even really want to be in—or cared about—this contest, although it was clearly important to all of Soarin’s friends, except perhaps Gravenstein. Of course, she didn’t really know all that much about the Wonderbolts or other parts of the Equestrian Military—that really wasn’t her area—but meeting one of them would probably be a good step in the direction of joining the group, or being given a chance to. Cheerilee glanced down the table at Soarin, who was clearly thinking hard. It’d be best if she just bowed out.

“Soarin,” Cheerilee began, but Soarin cut her off with his hoof.

“I said I wanted Cheers on the team, and I stand by that,” Soarin nodded at Cheerilee and smiled, “we’ll just have to work harder to get you ready for it, Cheerilee.” Soarin paused and glanced at the other ponies at the table. “Besides, it’s not as if we have much of a choice in the matter. This storm’s been scheduled for months, and every team’s already got their eight ponies—we can’t find anyone on such a short notice.”

“Fine,” Spearmint said with a sigh. One by one the other ponies around the table nodded or agreed as well. Cheerilee felt her heart flutter with excitement—and worry. All these ponies were going to be riding on her shoulders, depending on her to deliver and be a great surfer for them. It was a lot of responsibility, and she doubted any of the ponies besides Soarin and maybe Gravenstein, were going to cut her any slack if she screwed up. Plus she didn’t want to ruin her friendship with the stallion either.

“Well, newbie,” Breezy said, reaching across the table and gripping Cheerilee’s hoof. “Welcome to the team.”

Chapter 2: Cheerilee's Story part 2

In spite of Spearmint’s concerns, the weather cooperated and nearly everyday for the week leading up the contest had strong, well-formed waves that Soarin could use to teach Cheerilee more about surfing. She learned quickly as she could. Once she had learned how to not wipe out every time she hopped on the board, Soarin began to instruct her how to do some basic tricks, and he wasn’t alone in doing so. While most of the ponies besides Breezy remained aloof and cool towards her, all of them made an effort to teach her something or rather about surfing, giving her tips and what not.

Cheerilee wasn’t a fool; most of what they were teaching her was very basic, and it was doubtful she was going to turn any heads pulling off some sort of amazing move on the board. By some unspoken consensus, the idea was just to get her into the position where her surfing and score wouldn’t drag the average down lower than it needed to be. The tricks were so basic she couldn’t mess them up and lose points, and Cheerilee was fine with that.

By the time the next week rolled around, Breezy was spending less and less time with the team; as a weathermare, Breezy had to make regular trips out over the western ocean to where the storm was constructed. Most natural storms were destroyed before they came anywhere near Equestria, so only planned storms like this one were allowed to exist. However, incorporating wild weather systems into them made them more potent, and according to Breezy, the storm was going to be the highlight of the century. When she was around, and they weren’t surfing, Breezy certainly liked to go on about her work, and most of it Cheerilee didn’t really understand. Things like moving air pockets around or shifting ocean currents were out of her league.

However, it was a bit off putting when the only friendly face in the whole group was Soarin when his doppelganger wasn’t there. Cheerilee wasn’t sure what to make of Gravenstein, sometimes she suspected the applepony was just naturally grumpy, and even if he was trying to be nice to you he’d probably do with a scowl on his face. And unlike the other ponies on the team, Gravenstein actually seemed to be a hard worker, or at the very least went to work everyday, so he wasn’t there as often as Soarin.

Soarin, on the other hoof, was a nice as ever, and surprisingly unconcerned about his chances at winning, even with the possibility of a party with Spitfire. Cheerilee had never followed the Wonderbolts as closely as her pegasus friends, but even she knew Spitfire was kind of a big deal. Still, Soarin was confident that however helpful meeting Spitfire was to his eventual goal of joining the Wonderbolts, he would get in eventually. Cheerilee couldn’t help worrying that if they did lose, it might hurt her friendship with the stallion—especially if it was her fault.

As the week wore on, the beaches started to become more and more crowded with surfers. Most of them didn’t have access to a beach house like Soarin did, and it wasn’t long before surfers from all over Las Pegasus and beyond started setting up tents or renting hotel rooms and generally filling up the beach in advance of the storm. Most of the ponies, despite being the competition, were actually quite friendly, and Cheerilee enjoyed talking to them, despite Celestia Lite’s insistence that they keep their distance from the ‘kooks’. Most of them didn’t surf enough to really have a great deal of experience it seemed, and the news of Spitfire was drawing in Pegasi from all over Equestria even if they had never surfed before.

Finally, on the eve before the storm was due to hit, the eight of them gathered at Soarin’s beach house again in order to have one last meal together. It wasn’t particularly memorable, and Cheerilee could tell that everypony was pretty nervous. Even Soarin and Breezy were starting to show signs of worry over the competition the next day, and it didn’t really surprise Cheerilee when most of them, minus Pillow, struggled to get to sleep. Of course, it didn’t help any that it was difficult to sleep in a room full of strangers, or that Pillow snored loud enough to wake the dead.

Even though the surge caused by the offshore storm, the day of the tournament was surprisingly cloud-free and warm, with the sun shining brightly and strongly. Out over the ocean, however, Cheerilee could see a cloudy dark line near the horizon. The storm itself was moving slowly towards the shoreline, but Breezy assured them it wouldn’t hit Las Pegasus until that evening, and be mostly gone by the time tomorrow rolled around.

Overnight, a small pavilion had popped up on the beach, complete with a judges’ table and a banner proclaiming all the sponsors and contributors to the contest. Most of the cash had probably gone into the prize pool, which Cheerilee understood was several thousand bits. It also featured a rather expensive sound system. The judges themselves hadn’t yet arrived but the sound system was playing a rather heavy, pulsing beat in their absence.

“Well, this is it.” Celestia Lite said, as they walked towards the smaller booth set up beside the stage to register. All of them were carrying their boards on their backs, although Cheerilee was still having trouble mastering that skill. It was harder to keep it from sliding off without wings or magic. Hot Coffee managed somehow, so it wasn’t impossible. Maybe one day.

“Yup,” Soarin nodded as he stepped ahead of the group and turned around to face them, letting his board down onto the sand before continuing. “I know we all want to win today, but you know what? Even if we lose, we’ll still have this—” Soarin gestured with his hoof pointing to himself and every other pony on the team. “—friendship and—”

“Are you serious Soarin?” Spearmint cut the pegasus off, as she levitated her own board off her back and onto the sand beside her. Like every pony’s board in the group—except Cheerilee’s— it had a stylized version of her cutie mark against a mostly white background, if one ignored the wavy lines of blue and pink. It was some sort of stringed instrument. Maybe a harp or something. “Where do you get this stuff?”

Soarin frowned and gave Spearmint a disgruntled look. “Look, all I’m saying is, I want you guys to have fun, and don’t worry if we lose. It’s only a contest.”

“Sweet filly Luna,” Pillow swore—he had been swearing by somepony named Luna all week, and Cheerilee still didn’t know what he meant by it. Perhaps that’s what Thestrals called Celestia? Why would they have a separate name for the Princess? Cheerilee had been afraid to ask. “I thought you wanted to win?”

“I do,” Soarin said, before shrugging with his wings. “You guys go get signed up, I’ll be along in a second.” Before Cheerilee dropped her gaze, Soarin caught it, and indicated he wanted her to stay a bit longer.

None of the other ponies noticed that she didn’t leave with them, which was fine with Cheerilee, although it did make her realize how little she fit in with the group. She’d probably always be an outsider, even if they won first place today. Soarin watched them go then stepped up closer to Cheerilee, with a small smile.

“That goes double for you, Cheerilee,” Soarin’s smile grew a bit wider. “I know you’ve been working hard and I’m super proud of you. Don’t worry about today, just have fun.” Then he kissed her.

On the forehead. But still! Cheerilee was so surprised she barely managed to stammer out a reply before Soarin trotted off down the beach towards the team. As he went, Cheerilee found herself inadvertently studying the stallion’s flanks—they certainly were muscular and well toned and, well… Cheerilee found herself blushing even harder. She closed her eyes and counted to ten. It wasn’t as if it meant anything, it was just a kiss, and on the forehead. And she wasn’t even interested in him, in that way. Right?

Cheerilee shook her head and started down the beach. It was just a kiss—and she had a tournament to win at that. She’d figure it out later. Assuming there was something to figure out.

**

The rules were simple; each pony had a number, which he or she wore over her flanks. When called, they paddled out and did their best to catch a wave, then perform tricks for a score. It sounded simple on paper, but it was a great deal more chaotic than Cheerilee had first imagined.

Firstly, most of the surfers hopped into the water even if it wasn’t their turn, so they wouldn’t have to take the time get used to the water when it was their turn, and secondly, despite being organised into teams, they didn’t go in order. It seemed to Cheerilee that the names were completely random, but there was likely some sort of incomprehensible logic behind whose turn it was. It made keeping track of who had what score difficult, although Cheerilee did her best.

Celestia Lite went first on her black board with a golden fleur de lis on it, followed by Hot Coffee. His board had some sort of leafy thing on it that make Cheerilee think of classical Equestrian society for some reason, but she wasn’t sure why. Both ponies did well or at least well from Cheerilee’s perspective. It wasn’t easy to see them while bobbing up and down just off shore.

Soarin followed those two, and in Cheerilee’s opinion, he did the best show of any pony yet. As an earth pony, she didn’t really have much in the way of special features like wings or magic, but Soarin used his wings to great advantage during his stunts. It seemed somewhat unfair that Cheerilee wouldn’t be able to do something similar, but she wasn’t too bothered by it. Pillows and Breezy did similar tricks, but not as well as Soarin had—but of course they were going after him, so naturally that coloured her opinion of their tricks.

While Gravenstein hadn’t been practicing as much as the others, the stallion seemed to know what he was doing when his turn came up, and did some things that Cheerilee suspected she was years away from doing, like riding the very lip of the wave back and forth until finally bailing.

That left only Spearmint and herself, and Cheerilee was first.

A week’s worth of paddling still hadn’t gotten her to the point where it wasn’t boring or exhausting, but at least she wasn’t totally out of breath anymore by the time she got out far enough to catch a wave. Unlike her first day, there were many potential swells to choose from, most of which were significantly larger than she had practised on. Cheerilee bit her lip and did her best.

She managed to get up onto her board without falling over, which was good, and for a brief moment, she just rode the wave as it pushed its way toward shore. It was still an incredible feeling and Cheerilee couldn’t help but take a moment to just drink it in. Then she shook her head and started to do some tricks. They were, naturally, very basic. She mostly just slid down the front of the wave in a serpentine motion, before drifting back up towards the top.

Most of the surfers so far had done something much more amazing, like flips or grabbing air, but Cheerilee was certain she’d just end up with a lung full of sea water if she tried those. However, she needed something to wow the judges, or at least get her score up a bit more. Therefore, she tried doing the trick again, this time with much more severe turns.

Naturally, she screwed it up.

Halfway down the wave, she turned too sharply, and before Cheerilee knew what was happening, the whole board spun around like a top. Somehow, Cheerilee kept her balance and managed to keep it under control, although by the time she pulled out of it her heart was pounding like a drum. She was more than willing to just ride the wave the rest of the way into shore, before bailing and jumping into the water before she was thrown up onto the beach.

The crowd cheered for her, sort of. It certainly wasn’t as loud as they had been for the other ponies, but Cheerilee was more interested in her score. Looking towards the judge’s stand, she briefly saw a 6.5 formed out of illusionary magic before they vanished as they got ready to watch the next surfer. Cheerilee sighed; it wasn’t particularly good at all. With her score, they had an average of 8.7, below what Cheerilee suspected the top team had.

Reluctantly, Cheerilee let herself wash ashore. Once a pony had his or her turn, they were gathering up on the beach to warm up in the sun, and Soarin and his friends were no exception. It was difficult approaching them, and not simply because her legs felt like jelly. She had let them all down, especially Soarin.

“Sorry guys,” Cheerilee said wearily as she sat down on a piece of driftwood next to a shivering Celestia Lite. Apparently, her long legged body wasn’t very good at retaining heat.

“What for?” Pillow asked, sounding excited, and for once, not particularly tired. “We’re winning!”

“We are?” Cheerilee blinked in surprise. Their score wasn’t good enough, was it?

“We’re in the top three,” Soarin corrected, although he had a huge grin on his face. “You did great Cheers!”

“I nearly went for a wash,” Cheerilee shook her mane and began running her hoof through it. Without the kinks in it, it was actually quite long. Maybe she should see about getting it cut. “That spin was an accident you know.”

“But it looked bucking awesome and you pulled it off, that’s what counts,” Celestia Lite said, patting Cheerilee on the leg. “You did good, Cheerilee.”

Before Cheerilee could respond—if these ponies were going to be friendly with her, she’d have to learn their names—Spearmint’s number was called. Everypony on the team turned to watch the green mare paddle out to where the waves were forming—Breezy produced a pair of binoculars and they passed them around the group so they could all watch.

By the time Spearmint was ready to catch a wave, the whole group was waiting anxiously, even Cheerilee. None of them talked, and she risked a glance at Soarin. He looked unusually focused and serious. Everything was riding on Spearmint.

Spearmint caught the wave without much of a problem, and within moments, she was performing a number of tricks, such as standing on the very tip of the board and balancing on her hind legs. Spearmint was surprisingly good at it, even though most ponies Cheerilee knew would have just fallen over when trying to assume such a position. She used her magic too, causing trails of sparkles to appear behind the board, leaving a glittering trail in the water.

Then, without warning, a smaller, secondary wave arose up in front of the wave Spearmint was riding and merged with it it. At first Cheerilee didn’t think anything was wrong, then her board twisted laterally and Spearmint fell off, into the water.

Everypony groaned, including many of the crowd. Wiping out like that was one of the worst things that could happen, especially since it couldn’t be passed off as something Spearmint intended to do. That’s why so much of her training the prior week had been making sure Cheerilee wouldn’t wipe out. Cheerilee looked up and over at the judge’s bench, and within seconds a devastating score of one appear with a pop in the empty area in front of the judge’s table. That brought their score down to something like 7.7, which was far too low to win the contest, even if they didn’t come in last.

Some small part of her felt vindicated; they had lost, it was true, but Cheerilee wasn’t the reason for that loss. Sure, she hadn’t done amazing, but she had done well enough, whereas the so-called seasoned surfer who had scoffed at her and mocked the idea that she’d be anything but a loser, had been the one to wipe out and cost them the tournament. It was petty, but she wanted to stick her tongue out at the soaked mare as she slowly hauled herself out of the water and walked towards them.

Then she looked over at Soarin and the other ponies. All of them were grim and defeated looking, with Soarin’s face buried in his hooves. He wasn’t crying, but still. The justified feeling in Cheerilee’s chest died silently. Maybe she hadn’t brought the group down, but they were no less devastated by the loss—and it wasn’t very nice to have those thoughts, even if these ponies weren’t her friends.

Not much anypony could do about it now.

**

In the end, they came in fourth. It was actually good, at least from Cheerilee’s standpoint when one considered Cheerilee had no idea what the hay she was doing, and Spearmint had taken a bath. It certainly wasn’t first place, and even before the ponies were leaving the beach, the winning team was crowding around Spitfire and chatting with her excitedly. They watched them for a while, before breaking up and heading their own ways.

Spearmint had apologized, and as far as Cheerilee could tell Soarin’s friends—Soarin included—weren’t particularly angry at the mare. Yet, angry or not, the team had spent the rest of the contest mostly silent, and when they split up, they didn’t really say much to one another besides goodbye.

Gravenstein left too, apparently because he had to get out to some farm his family owned just outside of town. He didn’t work on it normally, but with the storm coming they needed every set of hooves they could get to secure the trees, or something. The earth pony didn’t really explain it in any detail, and Cheerilee was only half listening anyway.

By the time Cheerilee and Soarin made it back to the beach house, it was late afternoon. The storm had moved much closer to shore after the contest had ended, and the skies were starting to turn dark, especially since the sun was setting behind the storm now. She was concerned at first, given that the waves would probably just get more aggressive and stronger as the time went on, but when she asked Soarin had explained that most of the shoreline, including what was outside the beach house were protected with magically enhanced shore breaks, and the worst they’d get was a bit of extra sea spray.

Once her fears laid to rest, Soarin however trotted off to his bedroom, leaving Cheerilee alone with her thoughts.

After she washed herself up, and got the salt and sand out of her coat, Cheerilee listened to the wind for while, before deciding she ought to check on Soarin. First she made a cup of hot chocolate each, since it seemed like an appropriate drink, given the weather, and then balanced the tray on her back as she headed deeper into the house to Soarin’s bedroom. Despite having been there nearly a week, she hadn’t seen the inside of the stallion’s room yet, or Gravenstein’s for that matter.

Gingerly, she tapped on the door, trying to keep the tray on her back from sliding off and ruining Soarin’s carpet. Some ponies just seemed to be naturals at the skill, but clearly she wasn’t one of them.

She only had to wait a moment before she heard movement inside the room and the door opened, revealing a slightly red-eyed Soarin. Had he been crying? Cheerilee forced herself to smile—she didn’t want to embarrass the stallion needlessly, he probably didn’t know it was obvious.

“Hi Cheers,” Soarin returned the smile weakly. “is everything okay? You’re not still scared about the storm are you?”

“I’m fine,” Cheerilee lied. Truthfully, the sound of the storm outside was more than a bit off-putting, and it had started to rain fat, heavy drops while she had been finishing up the hot chocolate. They didn’t really have these sorts of intense storms in Ponyville. “May I come in? I made hot chocolate.”

Soarin hesitated for a moment, before nodding and gesturing with his hoof as he pushed the door the rest of the way open.

Cheerilee’s first impression of the room was that it was extremely blue, although after a second she realized part of it was because almost every inch of the walls were covered in posters depicting various Wonderbolts—including Spitfire—in dramatic poses or otherwise doing some sort of airborne stunt.  The surfaces of the room, like Soarin’s desk, were covered in similar items, such as framed and signed photographs of certain Wonderbolts, although Cheerilee had no idea what their names were. At least he didn’t have ‘Wonderbolt’ bedsheets or something. Part of Cheerilee suspected it was probably for the best that Soarin didn’t have to go to a party with Spitfire—he’d probably be a bit off putting meeting a Wonderbolt in person.

As she stepped over the threshold, Soarin grabbed the tray with his teeth and took it over to his desk, where he shoved some of the photographs and papers off to the side to make room. Cheerilee noted with a frown that several of the photographs were on their faces, rather than upright—sending a tinge of guilt of her spine. It wasn’t right for her to judge Soarin because he was a big fan of the Wonderbolts, they clearly meant a lot to him.

 As Soarin hopped on the bed with one of the mugs, Cheerilee took a seat at Soarin’s desk facing the stallion. As she sat down, she suddenly realized she was essentially alone in an empty house with Soarin, in his bedroom—she had to take a hasty sip to cover her blush, but by the time, she lowered her mug she had it under control.

“How… are you doing?” Cheerilee asked; her special talent certainly wasn’t in being a psychologist, and she wasn’t completely sure how to approach this situation.

“I’m fine, I guess.” Soarin sighed heavily and stared into his mug, not taking any sips. “I wish we had won.”

“I wish we had won too, Soarin.” She really did, if only because it was starting to be painful seeing her friend like this. “We didn’t do too badly. I mean,” Cheerilee shrugged, “fourth is a lot better than I ever expected us to get. Well, with me on the team.”

“No, we didn’t.” Soarin gave Cheerilee a weak smile that was only a pale shadow of his normal grins. “We’re all proud of you, I’m proud of you.”

“I hope you’re not angry at…” Cheerilee frowned as she realized she still didn’t know the mare’s name. She really had to get on top of that. “…her. I know she messed up, but…”

“Nah, I don’t blame Lyra,” Soarin shook his head, “We’ve all made mistakes like that. It could have been me.”

“I wish it had been me, really,” Cheerilee said softly, “I mean, not that I wanted to mess up, but if somepony was going to screw up, I wish it had been me.”

“Why?”

“I’m already an outsider,” Cheerilee took a sip to gather her thoughts. “If I had screwed up, then I’d still be an outsider; it’s easy for me to take the fall. Less chance of ruined friendships and all that.”

“You mustn’t think that, Cheerilee,” Soarin said, frowning at her. “We’ve been through a lot together, and it’s only really me who had a horse in the race, so to speak. The others wanted to win, but I guess I didn’t realize how much it all meant to me…”

Cheerilee hmm’d as she glanced over at the overturned pictures on Soarin’s desk. After a moment’s hesitation she picked one up and put it back upright, revealing it was indeed a signed picture of Spitfire. “You know this isn’t the end of the world, right?” Cheerilee asked, flinching as she realized her voice sounded a bit harsh, “I mean, I’ve seen you fly, you’re great at it.” She added hastily. “I’m sure you’ll get a chance to strut yourself eventually.”

“Will I? Or maybe I’ll just keep missing chances.”

“You will, I know it,” Cheerilee put as much firmness as she dared into her voice. “You’ll be a Wonderbolt one day, I’m sure.”

“Maybe.” Soarin finally took a sip of his hot chocolate, and blinked in surprise. “It’s good!”

Before Cheerilee could respond, the whole house suddenly shook as the skies outside Soarin’s window flashed white and the thunder crashed over the house. It was much, much louder than anything Cheerilee had experienced back home, and she wasn’t too ashamed to admit she jumped a bit. It helped Soarin did too.

Both ponies stared at one another for a brief moment, before the power suddenly went out. It was still late afternoon, and the clouds weren’t so thick that the sun didn’t get through them a bit, but it still plunged the bedroom and the rest of the house into twilight.

“Crap,” Soarin’s voice came from the bed, and Cheerilee saw the stallion’s head silhouetted against the window as he looked out. “The storm must have taken out one of the main stations. Nothing we can do, I guess.”

Her eyes slowly adjusted to the new darkness. Once they did, actually wasn’t that bad, but it’d be night soon enough and Cheerilee shuddered to think what it’d be like without any lights at all. Hopefully Soarin and Gravenstein had some candles, but knowing her luck they wouldn’t.

Soarin sat back down onto his bed with a grunt and judging from the sipping noise, took another drink of the hot chocolate. Cheerilee wished she had taken the time to prepare something more substantial when she had had the chance. Oh well, she thought, as she listened to the thunder crack and the winds howl. At least you’ve got a roof over your head.

“Can I ask you a question, Cheers?” Soarin said, breaking the relative silence in the room. He didn’t wait for a response. “What does your cutie mark mean? I mean, I know that’s kind of personal, but usually I can guess…”

Cheerilee blushed and glanced at her flank, where her three-smiling-flowers cutie mark was just visible in the light streaming in through the window. She considered what to say about it—and more importantly, whether to tell the truth or not. Cheerilee had come to Las Pegasus in hopes of reinventing herself as a different pony, it wasn’t that she disliked her cutie mark or what it represented, but at the same time she wasn’t sure it was really something she wanted to do. She mentally sighed to herself. There wasn’t much point in lying, she supposed.

“Teaching,” Cheerilee shifted slightly so Soarin could see more of her flank. “You know, growing students, making them happy, that sort of thing…”

“Cutie-marks aren’t usually that metaphorical,” Soarin’s voice carried a hint of uncertainty. “Are you—”

“Of course I’m sure,” Cheerilee snapped indignantly. “If you must know I was helping my friend with her math homework when it appeared.”

“Sorry,” Soarin sighed, “I didn’t mean to insult you.” The stallion’s voice trailed off for a moment before returning with another question. “Why aren’t you at university, getting a degree or whatever you need to be a teacher, then?”

“I’m not really sure I want to be a teacher,” Cheerilee rubbed her face with her hoof, and wondered where she had put her mug. She could use a drink of something about now. “I mean, I like teaching, but every teacher I’ve met was this worn out, dried husk of a pony. There’s no joy in it for them, even though it’s their special talent.”

“Just because a pony is good at something doesn’t mean it’s not hard work,” Soarin pointed out, slurping at his drink noisily. “I’m a fast flier, but I still have to go out and train myself.” Soarin paused for a second, and in the darkness, Cheerilee watched him tilt his head slightly as he thought about something. “Besides, I bet those ponies were only good at teaching, not good at teaching and making their students happy at the same time.”

 Cheerilee frowned, she hadn’t considered that before. When she thought back to all the ponies who had taught her over the years in Ponyville, thinking about their cutie-marks, she realized all of them had things like A pluses or pencils or chalkboards—one of the few ponies who didn’t, the science teacher who taught her throughout high school in physics, had a atom cutie mark. He had always seemed cheerful and upbeat about teaching. Maybe Soarin was right, maybe she didn’t have to lose herself to follow her talent. She did enjoy being a teacher.

“Can I ask you a question too?” Cheerilee said after a moment. Unlike Soarin she waited for the stallion to nod—only to realize at the last moment he had already answered her question about his cutie mark. She blurted out the first thing that came to mind; “What did that kiss this morning mean?”

Soarin opened her mouth to reply, but suddenly the lights flicked back on.. That’s when she noticed Soarin was blushing hard, and that made Cheerilee blush along with him.

“It meant good luck,” Soarin said finally, in a tone of voice that made Cheerilee suspect he was lying. “For, you know, the contest.”

“You didn’t kiss any of the other mares…” Despite herself, she smirked, “Or stallions.”

“I, er, well…” Soarin’s blush deepened, “Oh fine, I like you.”

“’Like’ me?”

“You know what I mean!” Soarin buried his face in his hooves, which only made Cheerilee feel her blush burn hotter—luckily, she was able to find her mug again and cover it with a sip. “It’s been nice to get to know somepony who’s like you. Someone real.”

“’Someone real’?” Cheerilee repeated, cocking her eyebrow, “Do you normally date fantasies or something, Soarin?”

“Ha ha,” Soarin faked a laugh as he glared at her, before launching into an explanation. “I’m sure you’ve probably figured out by now that most of the mares I’ve been with haven’t really been much more than a one night stand or so.”

“I gathered.” Cheerilee nodded, taking another sip. It wasn’t as if that was all that unusual.

“It was nice,” the stallion repeated, looking uncomfortable again as he anger died away. “So… sorry.”

“Sorry? For what?” Cheerilee asked, a moment before her brain caught up to her mouth and answered the question for her. “Oh—no Soarin, it’s okay. I mean, I like you too. You’re nice, and kind, and strong, and urm,” Cheerilee blushed hard.

It helped that Soarin was sexy; few ponies truly let themselves go, but Soarin’s body, when Cheerilee allowed herself the freedom to look at it, was something else, full of strong muscles and raw power. In addition, his wings looked good too, although as an Earth pony she really wasn’t the best judge of that, she supposed. Cheerilee felt herself blush harder. She had been doing her best to avoid thinking about Soarin that way, though, simply because he was her friend—and she didn’t think he was attracted to her anyway. He certainly never hit on her.

“I’m not upset about the kiss, Soarin.” Cheerilee said finally, breaking the awkward silence between them.

“Good…” Soarin smiled weakly. “Good.” He looked as if he was thinking about something before standing up, “so you won’t mind if I did this…?”

Soarin crossed the space between them and leaned in, kissing Cheerilee on her lips. She was so surprised, it took her a moment to return the kiss, parting her lips and pushing her tongue into Soarin’s mouth.

It could have only been a moment before they broke apart, but It felt like it had lasted forever. Cheerilee panted as if she had just ran up and down a flight of stairs, and stared at the stallion as he panted too, only a few inches from her face. “Only if you don’t mind if I do—” Cheerilee stood up and pushed Soarin backwards, towards his bed. He hadn’t been expecting it and he tripped, sitting down on his rump just short of the mattress. “—this!” Not waiting for him to respond, Cheerilee pushed herself against the stallion until he fell backwards onto the bed. She snuggled close to the stallion as she kissed him again.

When they broke again, Cheerilee moaned softly. Soarin wasn’t her first, but it had been a long time since she had been with someone special—and Soarin certainly felt special.

As Cheerilee panted, Soarin leaned up with his mouth and nipped at her collarbone, where her neck met her chest, and she felt a wave of pleasure ripple through her, making her tail twitch slightly. She did her best to keep herself from flagging though, she didn’t want to seem easy, although as Soarin continued to nibble along her neck and press up against her, she started to lose sight of why.

Already Cheerilee could feel Soarin’s… physical… interest in her growing, pressing against her belly. She nickered as she buried her nose into Soarin’s mane—it was quite long, and smelled like a mix of lavender and ginger, although it carried a hint of the ocean’s salty spray with it too. Instinctively, Cheerilee kissed him along his hairline and up to his ear, where she nipped it.

“Mmm, Soarin…” Cheerilee whispered, or perhaps she groaned, into his ear. Beneath her, Soarin froze suddenly, before pulling his mouth away from her neck and staring up at her.

“Yeah?”

Cheerilee closed her eyes and giggled at the uncertain tone in his voice. If he was worried he was being too forward, it was a bit late now.

“Fuck me, please.” She leaned down and punctured her words with small kisses on his nose, before Soarin shifted his head and they kissed.

Soarin muttered something that Cheerilee didn’t catch, but before she could ask about it Soarin hugged her close and the two of them rolled in the bed, so Cheerilee was now on the bottom. Flicking his wings, Soarin stood up on the bed, snorting gustily. He stood over her for a moment, just looking her over, and Cheerilee took the chance to glance at Soarin’s cock. It was fully erect now, and while it wasn’t the largest she had ever seen, it had a certain beauty to it, the way the skin marbled around its base, and swayed with the beat of his heart.

Cheerilee didn’t need to be asked, she flicked her tail aside for her stallion, and met his eyes.

“Like what you see?” Soarin smirked playfully.

“I don’t want to see it,” Cheerilee reached up and wrapped her hooves around the pegasus, pulling him down. “I want to feel it.”

He certainly didn’t need to be told twice; as they kissed, Soarin pressed up against her, poking and prodding rather clumsily with the blunt head of the cock, before finding its way home.

Cheerilee gasped around the kiss as Soarin pushed inside of her, her eyes rolling back into her head; she felt herself quiver with pleasure. With a grunt, she stretched her hind legs a bit further apart, hooking her ankles into the crooks of Soarin’s legs for leverage.

It took her a moment to adjust to the sensation, and before she could, Soarin started to pull back out, leaving her feeling empty as his cock’s head slithered against her walls. Whining, she wiggled her hips and tried to force herself back onto him, but before she could really make any progress, Soarin thrust back in.

The sudden change of movement caused her to cry out something, Cheerilee wasn’t sure what she said, really, and before she could really dwell on it Soarin was pulling back again. Over and over, Cheerilee found herself alternating between groaning lustfully, to just tossing her head back against Soarin’s pillows or kissing him outright.

Soarin slowly stepped up the pace, never pausing more than half a second, and as Cheerilee’s body started to rock with each of Soarin’s down strokes, she felt a powerful sensation growing in her loins.

She had been with stallions before, but she had never felt what she was feeling now, but she also wasn’t exactly in the right state of mind to think about it, or question it. All she could do was moan for more and more. And the feeling only grew. It felt like she was reaching for something, just beyond the next…

Before Cheerilee could think any more, the sensation crashed over her, like a wave when she fell off her board, it made her body shake and her body clamp down on Soarin’s member, squeezing it and adding to her own pleasure. Closing her eyes tight, Cheerilee leaned in against Soarin and moaned into his chest fur, letting the sensation play out. Finally, after what felt like days, Cheerilee felt her body start to relax, although she still felt warm and… euphoric.

Then, as she was getting her wits about her again, she felt Soarin cum deep inside her, his hot seed splashing against her walls in great spurts, causing her to shudder with pleasure. It felt so good, and Cheerilee didn’t want it to stop, even though it wasn’t nearly as intense as what she had just experienced. All good things had to come to an end, and after a couple of good spurts, Soarin panted and collapsed against her.

He actually wasn’t that heavy, which was probably because he was a pegasus, so Cheerilee didn’t mind as she nuzzled and kissed her lover’s neck and cheeks while he recovered. After a moment’s thought, Cheerilee realized she must have come too—that was certainly a first. She let out a little, stupid sounding giggle, which finally seemed to rouse Soarin out of his dazed state.

Soarin snorted at her, as if to ask what was so funny, before rolling off Cheerilee onto the bed beside her, their hindquarters still awkwardly entangled, even though Cheerilee could feel her lover’s cock already softening and pulling out of her. Part of her wanted to pout and continue to pleasure herself, but she was sure she wouldn’t have to wait too long.

“I—um,” Soarin smiled crookedly, and let his voice die, as Cheerilee snuggled up against him. For a while, the two of them just listened to the sound of the wind and rain and thunder. The main body of the storm seemed to have moved off while they were making love, which was good because Cheerilee wasn’t particularly fond of the way the house rattled as the lightning broke overhead.

With her head lying against Soarin’s chest, listening to his heartbeat, she felt somewhat drowsy, but that only reminded her that it was only late afternoon, not the middle of the night. Cheerilee frowned; they really should have planned this better. There wasn’t anything they could do about it now, of course.

Eventually, Soarin had to get up and use the washroom, and Cheerilee decided she couldn’t lay around on Soarin’s bed the rest of the night, especially since neither of them had eaten anything since breakfast. After losing, none of them had felt particularly interested in eating.

It felt particularly scandalous to trot into Soarin’s kitchen, still smelling and looking like she had just been rolling in the hay, but that hardly mattered since Soarin was the only other pony home. Gravenstein had told them outright that he wouldn’t be back until at least the morning, and frankly, Cheerilee didn’t really care if he found out—almost everypony had already assumed they were sleeping together.

By the time Soarin finally made his way down to the kitchen, Cheerilee was already putting together a salad for the two of them—during one of her breaks not surfing over the week, she had gotten the two stallions to fill out their pantry a bit more with more diverse foodstuffs. Soarin nuzzled her neck before sitting down, and despite herself, Cheerilee blushed.

They ate in relative silence, not really talking about anything substantial, which gave Cheerilee time to think.

I think I’ve made a mistake. Cheerilee sighed mentally as she finished her salad. How was she going to fix— Cheerilee’s line of thought broke off as Soarin coughed raggedly, as if a leaf had gone down the wrong way.

“I don’t know if you know this,” Soarin wheezed out after a moment, “but you generally shouldn’t say that to a stallion you just had sex with.” Cheerilee blinked and realized she must have spoken aloud. Before she could explain, Soarin continued, “I know it’s all kind of sudden but—”

Cheerilee cut him off with her hoof. “I wasn’t talking about that, I was talking about—” She grasped mentally, trying to figure out how to put her thoughts into words. “—coming here to Las Pegasus, trying to reinvent myself.”

“You mean… about being a teacher?” Soarin asked, sounding and looked relieved. Cheerilee quirked an eyebrow at the stallion; did most of his dates end in them telling him it had been a mistake? She shook her head—it didn’t matter.

“Yes.” Cheerilee idly flicked at the last remains of her salad at the bottom of her bowl. “For someone who spends most of his time surfing and can’t hold down a job, you give pretty good advice.”

“Ouch,” Soarin mimed taking a bullet, before straightening up and finishing his own salad. “So you’re going to go back to…”

“Ponyville.”

“Ponyville? I think Lyra grew up there,” Soarin added as an aside before continuing his original thought; “you’re going to go back to Ponyville?”

“No, well, yes,” Cheerilee shook her head, “if I’m going to teach, I’ll have to go to university, and Ponyville doesn’t have one. But I’ll probably end up teaching there, if I can.” Pausing, Cheerilee let out a long sigh. She hadn’t really thought about her hometown for most of her time here, and now that she did, she suddenly felt homesick. She had many friends there—better and truer friends than Soarin’s entourage, at least.

“I was kind of… hoping you’d be around, at least for a little bit,” Soarin sighed, his grin slipping. “I mean, you know…”

Cheerilee chuckled, “I’m not going to grab my bags and pack them right this instant!” It wouldn’t be until next fall that she’d be accepted, and knowing her luck it’d probably be too late anyway… not to mention her lack of money. She flicked her tail and glanced at Soarin; was he falling in love with me? She found him attractive, to be sure, and she did like him, but Cheerilee just couldn’t imagine herself spending the rest of the life with him.

“Besides,” Cheerilee added, “aren’t you going to be trying to get into the Wonderbolts?”

“I… yeah I suppose,” Soarin nodded, then smiled again—although a bit nervously, in Cheerilee’s estimation. “I guess I was getting ahead of myself.”

“Uh huh,” Cheerilee commented, as she got up to put the bowls into the sink. As she dropped them into the sink, the whole house suddenly rattled, and the lights flickered once, twice, then finally went out completely. She hadn’t checked the time, but given how dark it was inside the house and outside, it must be after the sunset. Of course, she hadn’t bothered to get out any candles or anything when the power was back on. As she sighed, the rain outside started to beat an even more violent tattoo against the window panes and roof—Cheerilee suspected they probably weren’t going to get lucky and have the power come back again.

“I guess we should go to bed,” Soarin commented, sounding a wee bit hopeful. As Cheerilee turned around, she could only barely see him through the gloom.

“Uh huh,” Cheerilee repeated, as she stepped around the kitchen island and up to Soarin. The pegasus obviously knew his house better than her; as he led her back to the bedroom, he wrapped his wing around her body and pulled her close so their flanks were touching—it was an unusual sensation, being held like that, sort of like a fluffy hug, but it felt nice nevertheless.

The whole house was creaking and the rain didn’t seem to be letting up one bit, but despite that, when they finally got around to sleeping, Cheerilee found herself at relaxing easily in Soarin’s arms.

**

When Breezy had explained the storm to Cheerilee, she had stressed that having the thing roll through Las Pegasus wasn’t nearly as dangerous as it sounded. Firstly, the storm center wouldn’t pass directly through the city, and secondly most of the structures around the city, whether they were made of clouds or steel, were hardened against the worst the storm could throw at them, both with unicorn and pegasus magics, and simply because they were built strong. The final line of defence, Breezy had explained, was also the first—namely the weather pegasi who guided the storm and controlled its path.

Evidently, something had gone horribly wrong.

Cheerilee and Soarin had awoken to find that power hadn’t been restored, although the storm itself had passed on. With little else to do, the two of them had ventured out into the blustery morning to check on the damage to Soarin’s beach house. Some minor damage was to be expected, but when they looked towards the city, it was clear “minor damage” wasn’t what the storm had delivered.

While most of the non-cloud buildings looked intact, besides what looked like some smashed windows, many of the cloud structures that enveloped their tops missing. At first Cheerilee thought, to her horror, that whole sections of the city had just been destroyed, but when she looked closer she realized that while some chunks of the cloudscape had been ripped out, most of it was floating lower to the ground, gray and heavy looking, as if filled with rain. Pegasi didn’t make domestic clouds for rain, though, and as Cheerilee watched for a moment, several of them flickered with internal lightning.

Turning her head east, Cheerilee could see a thicker and dark portion of the sky, where the storm probably was now.

“That’s not good,” Soarin’s voice sounded equal parts uncertain and fearful. Giving himself a shake, he turned to Cheerilee. “I need to go check on everypony.”

“Okay,” With that much damage, some pony might have gotten seriously hurt—such as Gravenstein or Breezy. Most of their teammates had made plans to take shelter, of course, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t hurt. “I’ll be fine here, just be careful out there.” Cheerilee paused for a moment before giving the stallion a hug and a kiss on his cheek. It was unlikely that he was in any real danger, of course, but she didn’t like the look of those stormy clouds.

Cheerilee watched him fly off for a moment, before turning back to the beach house. Unlike the city behind her, the beach house had fared relatively well. The messiest problem was the seaweed and other jetsam that the waves had thrown up onto the beach and onto Soarin’s patio. The wave breaks might have robbed the waves of their ability flood the beachfront, but they hadn’t stopped them from making a smelly mess.

Since it was the biggest job, she left it for the last, and focused more on checking the roof for damaged shingles or ripped siding, but the building had fared very well.

Cleaning took Cheerilee several hours, and by the time she was done she was stinky and sweaty—the air was particularly humid despite the fact that the storm had just passed through, and it didn’t make her any more comfortable. Eventually, however, she finished, and after a quick shower in the darkness of the washroom, Cheerilee fixed herself something to eat.

Then she spent the rest of the day waiting. Neither Soarin nor Gravenstein had left her a key to use, and she didn’t really want to go out exploring anyway. She’d probably just get in the way, and Soarin was expecting her to be here when he got back. However, staring at the ceiling wasn’t exactly the most interesting thing she could be doing, and she didn’t really feel tired enough to nap—sleeping in Soarin’s bed after a week of sleeping on the sofa had done wonders for her. Eventually she ended up poking around the house looking for something to read.

Neither stallion appeared to be a big reader—or at last neither of them seemed particularly inclined to display their books out in any of the public areas of the house—Gravenstein’s room, in Cheerilee’s mind, was of limits, so she ended up looking in Soarin’s room.

Without somepony to distract her, and with daylight streaming in the window, it was much easier to search the room more completely—it didn’t really surprise her to find Soarin wasn’t a big reader, and what he did have were mostly comprised of magazines heavily featuring the Wonderbolts or similar sports groups. Eventually, however, she managed to find a smallish stack of adventure novels, called Daring Do. They weren’t exactly the best literature she had ever read, but they did pass the time.

Finally, just when Cheerilee was starting to feel hungry again, Gravenstein returned home.

“Bloody fine mess out there,” Gravenstein grumbled, as he stomped his hooves on the rug in front of the kitchen door to knock the mud off them, “Is Soarin home yet?”

“No,” Cheerilee shook her head as she put down her book—she had already read this one, and news was far more interesting. “What happened with the storm?”

“Oh some idiot pegasus probably screwed up the equations or something,” Gravenstein shrugged and sat down opposite Cheerilee, running his hoof through his mane. “We’ll be pretty blessed by the Princess if nopony was killed, that’s all I can say.”

Cheerilee blinked in surprise; she had never heard of a pony killed by a storm before—but then, she had never experienced a storm this powerful either. “Does that happen? Ponies getting killed, I mean?”

“Of course,” Gravenstein looked at her as if she was an idiot. “Not often, but it can happen, especially with a hurricane this strong.”

“Hurricane?” Cheerilee remembered Breezy calling it that, but she wasn’t sure what she had meant by it.

“You know, spins around? Has a calm spot in the middle? You must have heard the eye pass over.”

“Uh,” Cheerilee tried to remember if she had. She couldn’t remember any sudden calmness, but it wasn’t as if she had been paying attention to the storm either—not with Soarin in the bed with her. The memory of the night before made Cheerilee blush, and decided it was probably best to change the topic. “How did your farm do?”

“Fine,” Gravenstein said, stretching a bit and cracking his neck. “Better than most—mom’s a unicorn, so when we realized it was going south she put up a shield with her magic that kept the worst of it at bay. She’s dead tired now, of course, but fine.”

“I see,” Cheerilee chewed her lip, and wondered how to continue the conversation—thankfully, she was saved from doing so when two large objects fell out of the sky and slammed into the patio with a loud thump.

Both Gravenstein and herself jumped in surprise, and it took her a moment to realize that both objects were actually pegasi, and one of them was Soarin. The other was a yellow mare with a fiery orange mane and tail—Cheerilee thought she looked familiar, but the only face she could place on the mare was—

“Celestia’s saggy tits!” Gravenstein swore, leaping to his hooves. “That’s Spitfire!”

Cheerilee didn’t get a chance to reply before Soarin opened the door, laughing at something Spitfire had said. Cheerilee felt an irrational surge of jealousy towards the other mare; had Soarin spent his whole day with this mare, rather than her? The envy quickly turned to embarrassment when Soarin trotted over to her and kissed her on her nose—in front of Gravenstein. The other stallion let out an annoyed snort, and out of the corner of her eyes, Cheerilee saw him roll his eyes.

“This is the mare I was telling you about,” Soarin said, turning back to Spitfire, who was standing in the doorway with a smirk on her face. She struck Cheerilee as a particularly arrogant pony—but one who had earned the right to be that way. “And this is my best friend and roommate.” Soarin added, nodding towards Gravenstein. “Cheerilee, Gravy, meet the spectacular Spitfire!”

“’Spectacular’ eh?” Spitfire snorted, “is that what the newspapers are calling me now?” Spitfire stepped forward and stretched out her hoof to Cheerilee, who shook it, before doing the same to Gravenstein. “Pleased to meet the two of you.”

“It’s an honour to meet you, madam,” Gravenstein replied, smiling crookedly, “I should say my name’s Gravenstein though.”

“An Apple, I take it?” Spitfire asked, cocking her eyebrow. Cheerilee frowned as Gravenstein nodded; she didn’t realize he was related to the Apples back home. “Seems to be one in every town.”

“If I knew Soarin was going to be bringing somepony like you home, I would have made something to eat,” Cheerilee said, putting on her best smile. And cleaned myself up, she thought to herself. Her mane could certainly use a good combing—and her coat too. Then again, neither Spitfire or Soarin looked particularly well groomed either. “How did, uh, you two meet?”

“After I checked in with everypony—they’re fine, if you’re wondering Cheers—I thought I should help some of the crews trying to drain the clouds,” Soarin explained, waving his wing tip around absentmindedly as he talked. “Which is where I ran into Spitfire.”

“It’s partly my fault that this storm got out of control,” Spitfire said, shaking her head, “since I was supervising it—I’m just glad no pony was hurt. With Soarin’s help we should have the city cleaned up in no time.”

“What about the power?” Cheerilee asked, and Gravenstein eyed her—it was light enough out that neither of them needed the lights yet, and he probably hadn’t realized the power had gone out. “The food in the fridge will be going bad soon, if it hasn’t already.”

“It’ll be back soon, I promise.” Spitfire turned to Soarin, “I’ve got to get going though, I’ve got to get a report ready to send back to Canterlot. I’ll see you around, Soarin.” Spitfire turned towards the door before smiling at the three of them, “It was a pleasure meeting all of you too—” Before Cheerilee could blink, she was gone, flying through the door frame and up into the sky with a speed that rivalled Soarin.

“I can’t believe you met Spitfire!” The tone of Gravenstein’s voice made Cheerilee want to giggle—he sounded like a little colt, rather than a mature stallion. “That was awesome!”

“I know, right?” If anything, Soarin’s grin grew a little bit wider. “And here’s the best part—she wants me to try out for the Wonderbolts!”

“Really?” Cheerilee asked in surprise—she hadn't meant to sound so sceptical, so she hastily added; “that’s wonderful!”

“That’s amazing Soarin,” Gravenstein said, looking and sounding a bit in awe, “I guess you didn’t need to win that tournament after all.”

“Yeah, Lyra will be pleased—I think she’s been beating herself up over wiping out on us.” Soaring sat down at the kitchen island with a groan, and Cheerilee sat down beside him. After a second, he wrapped his wing around her—causing Gravenstein to quirk his eyebrow at them, although he didn’t say anything.

“When will this be?” Before Soarin could answer her question, the lights suddenly flicked back on, and the refrigerator started to hum as its power returned. With the power back, somepony probably should get to work on something for the three of them to eat, but she didn’t particularly feel like getting up just yet.

“Well, that’s the thing—” Soarin smiled apologetically, “—once Spitfire’s done here, she’ll be returning to Cloudsdale, and she wants me to go with her…”

“I see,” Cheerilee frowned. That meant Soarin would be leaving relatively soon. Even thought the damage was extensive, she doubted Spitfire was going to be hanging around for much longer. Probably no more than a week. Cheerilee sighed—she didn’t expect their relationship to last particularly long, but she didn’t expect it to end so quickly either.

Soarin seemed to sense her mood, and his cheerful smile slid off his face. “I suppose I could wait for a bit…”

“Wait?” Gravenstein repeated, glancing from Soarin to Cheerilee, “what are you talking about?”

“Can you give us a moment, Gravenstein?” Cheerilee asked, fixing the yellow stallion in a stare. He stared back for a moment, before rolling his eyes and getting up from the island and trotting into the other room. Once he was gone, Cheerilee turned to Soarin. “I think you should go, I mean, neither of us expected this to be a long term thing.”

“I know, but I’m not sure I want to…” Soarin waved his hoof, searching for words, “…just leave either. It’s one thing when I don’t really know a mare but—”

Cheerilee cut him off with her hoof, “you’ve said it yourself, Soarin, when an opportunity comes knocking, you go for it. I can’t say I won’t miss you, of course, but don’t let that hold you back.” Cheerilee smiled wryly, “It’s not as if we’ve known each other particularly long.”

“Well…” Soarin sighed, “I guess you’re right, Cheers. Perhaps we’ll meet again in a few years.”

“I’m certain we will.” Cheerilee smiled and kissed Soarin on his cheek. “Eventually.”

**

“…we ended up dating, sort of, for the next two weeks until Spitfire was satisfied with the repairs,” Cheerilee said, taking another sip of her third glass of water since beginning the story. She didn’t think she had talked so long in all her life—even when she was teaching. Normally some colt or filly asking a question or making some snide comment would interrupt her. Big Mac had spent the entire time mostly silent, just listening to her speak. Of course, he was normally like that, so she doubted it was because she was that great of a storyteller. “We exchanged a few letters, but I haven’t heard from him in years.”

“That’s quite the story, Miss Cheerilee,” Big Mac commented after it was clear she wasn’t about to add any more to it. Big Mac paused for a second, and frowned slightly. “Does that mean Soarin is—?”

“Yeah,” Cheerilee said quickly with a nod, “he is…”

She could tell Big Mac wanted to ask more, but then he flicked his ears dismissively and avoided the topic. “Well, I wish I had something like that to share.”

“Oh come on,” Cheerilee laughed, as she set her glass aside and curled up next to the big stallion—she wondered what Gravenstein would say if he knew she was dating his relation. “You must have something like that—I know I’m not the first mare you’ve been with, and I can only imagine you’ve got some unusual stories under your saddle.”

“Well,” Big Mac said slowly, drawing the word out as he thought, “I suppose—but it’s kind of embarrassin’, you understand.”

“You don’t have to tell me, Big Mac.” Cheerilee pointed out, nuzzling his neck.

“Nah, fair is fair,” He said resolutely, “’sides, I doubt you’d find it embarrassin’ for the same reasons I do.”

Cheerilee nodded before laying her head back down on Big Mac’s chest, and waited for him to continue.

“Ya see, a couple of years back….