Three Heats, One Flame

Scootaloo and her friends trotted past the windmill at the edge of her property. They weren't late, but they were about to be. Their ad-hoc shower behind the north barn had eaten up more time than she really had, but while walking into the house with a damp coat was fine, walking in with semen running down her leg was not.

“You don’t have to walk me home,” Scootaloo said. Not that she didn’t appreciate the gesture, or want Rumble to meet her parents, well her mother anyway.

“I don’t have to be home for two more hours, might as well spend as much time as I can with you.” Rumble’s words earned a sappy coo from Applebloom and Sweetie Belle.

“Besides, after that rumor about you being an orphan that lived in the Apple’s orchard-”

Groans cut-off whatever else he was about to say, the three fillies rolled their eyes at the old rumor; another piece of Diamond’s work.

“Remind me to get her back for that,” Applebloom said. “We actually had EFS out on our farm looking into that.”

Stepping up onto her porch, Scootaloo turned to Rumble. “Thanks for everything today,” she said, stepping a closer to him, and tilting her head a little.

Rumble fumbled for words, before a shove from Sweetie Belle pushed him muzzle to muzzle with Scootaloo. Reflexes took over as their lips touched, and he pressed into a kiss. It was a deep, tender kiss that made him close his eyes and forget himself in.

Right up till a pony cleared their throat. His eyes shot open to find a tall, wheat colored earth pony with a purple mane, standing behind him. She didn’t look too happy.

Wild Oats looked flatly at the colt pinned against her daughter’s breath. “Come inside, I’ll set another plate.”

Scootaloo blushed, she hated getting caught doing anything overly girlish.

Rumble seemed equally embarrassed. “Thank you, but-”

“That wasn’t a request,” Wild Oats interrupted, already back in the house.

With a nervous laugh, Rumble looked to Scootaloo for some kind of answer. All he got was a smile and a shrug, before she ushered him and her friends inside.

Wild Oats laid a plate and an empty glass at the end of the long table, then opened a few more of the windows. “That’ll give you a nice cross wind.”

“Where’s dad at?” Scootaloo asked as her and her friends trotted off to the bathroom to wash their face and hooves for dinner

“Granola decided to leave early for the grain miller’s convention. He’s been wanting to visit that windmill museum anyway.” her mother answered.

Scootaloo quietly celebrated in the bathroom. She loved her dad dearly, but Granny Smith had nothing on him for being embarrassing. She was also safe from getting dragged to that infernal museum now.

“Nice guitar,” she heard Rumble say from the living room. She wilted a little, she knew what was coming next.

“That’s Granola’s, you play?” her mother said.

“No, but I want to.”

“Well, if you’re going to be around, Granola would love to teach you. Scootaloo is pretty good too.”

“She can play the guitar?”

“Yes I can play the guitar,” Scootaloo said, coming back to the kitchen. Her friends already taking their seats at the table.

“Maybe after dinner you could play something for us?” Wild Oats said.

“No.”

Scootaloos answer seemed to disappoint Rumble a little. Her mom chuckled at the exchange. Scootaloo hated when her father dragged her friends into his singing, but Rumble's interest would be a magnet for his attention. With Rumble and Scoots taking their seats, Wild Oats grabbed the tea pitcher from the fridge and joined them at the table.

“What’s that?” Scootaloo asked, taking her seat at the table, as her mom pulled a pitcher of dark liquid from the fridge.

“I made cooling tea. It helps with heat. It’s also a contraceptive. And guessing by how calm you all are, you’re each getting a glass. Not that I don’t trust Twilight Sparkle, but better safe than pregnant,” Wild Oats said, sitting the pitcher in front of them. “You have a glass too Rumble, it’s good for you too.”

Wild Oats took her seat at the table between the girls at one end, and Rumble at the other. She could see him relaxing by degrees; a combination of fresh air from the window, and lowering his guard to her presence.

Mindlessly, she began the dinner ritual of passing the food around till all had their share. The girls chatted amongst themselves about feeling better now that it was dark out, and their crusading plans for once their heat had passed. While Rumble politely took one serving from everything offered, and commented on the conversation where he could.

He had manners, no cutie mark yet either. He made a good young stallion for her daughter’s herd. Actually, now that she thought about it, was it her daughter’s herd, or Applebloom’s?

“So which girl asked you into the herd?” she asked Rumble, making a point to smile, and sound as welcoming as possible.

“Herd? Oh, yea, I guess we are, aren’t we,” he answered. Wild Oats snickered to herself. He was more like Granola than Scoots probably realized.

“He’s Scootaloo’s special somepony, but we share,” Sweetie Bell answered, sending Scoots shrinking under the table.

“Were you in a herd once?” Applebloom asked.

“No, Granola was. But he kept wandering onto the property to look at the windmill, so I kept him.” The girls all laughed. Granola’s story about getting his cutie mark suddenly took a very different light.

“What?” Wilds Oats feigned insult at the laughter. “He was better at running that thing than me, he’s cute, and he plays music for me. Why would I let that wander off?” Again the table rolled into laughter.

After they had eaten their fill, Sweetie Belle recounted their day to her, politely leaving out personal details both learned and experienced, and with a little prodding from Wild Oats, Rumble talked about his brother and parents.

“Speaking of my parents,” Rumble interrupted himself. “I better be getting home soon.”

Wild Oats made an excuse of going to the bathroom to give the four a moment of privacy, and walked with heavier than necessary steps when she followed their voices back to the porch.

“Goodnight Mrs. Oats. See you tomorrow girls.” Rumble said, as he hovered off the porch.

“Just call me Wild.”

Rumble nodded, then waved one last time to the girls, before flying off into the darkness.

Wild waited a moment for the sound of Rumble’s wings to fade. “So was he any good?”

“Mom!”

“Stamina’s a little short, but he tries hard.”

“Bloom!”

“What? She asked. Not like I told her about you and Sweetie Belle going at it.”

Applebloom’s realization of what she had said, came just as the other two turned red enough to be seen even in the dark of the evening. Whatever front of maturity Wild Oats had been putting up for their sake collapsed at the scene. With a echoing belly laugh she toppled over laughing.

“Thanks mom... Love you too.” Scootaloo said over her mother’s laughter.