A disagreement of sorts
It was the consent repeated thumping, a low bass line which seemed to bore into the back of his skull like a persistent child’s voice that warned Big Mac of his impending irritation. He slowed his pace slightly, the heavy cart which trundled behind him clacking in time with his heavy footfalls rolling to a slow stop. He shivered slightly, flinging a few of the persistent snowflakes which had started building up on his eyelashes free in wide arcs. He blinked his vision clear and resumed his previous pace, eager to get past the small house from which the loud bass emanated from. While he didn’t know the pony who lived there, the town’s resident DJ, very well, he’d seen enough of her both around town and on their farm to gain enough of an impression about her.
Big Mac wasn’t one to loathe or even hate a pony, but that darn DJ came as close as things got, with her fancy turntable and her loud dance music which blasted into the night with no consideration for anypony else. That rampant, cocksure, attitude she seemed to lug around with her everywhere she went. He made an irritated sound at the back of his throat at the thought. He detested it like Applejack detested bats. He threw the house a glare as he trundled past, the loud music also accompanied by what seemed like a fair portion of Ponyville celebrating the last night until Hearth’s Warming. He shuddered again, this time not from the cold. Why couldn’t she have fun more quietly? He dug his shoulders into the cart’s reins, eager to get away from the blasting music and wild laughter that drifted from the dwelling.
A flash of dark green whipped past his eyes, travelling so fast he didn’t have time to process what it was before it had already left his field of vision. A moment later, the shattering of glass against the rough cobblestones and another round of raucous laughter confirmed his suspicions. He glared at the smashed bottle angrily, what little left of the strong alcoholic beverage leaking out miserably onto the cobblestones. Slowly, he unhitched himself from his cart and rounded on the house, spotting a pair of ponies hanging out one of the upper windows and howling with laughter.
“Who threw that?” Big Mac demanded, his voice so overwhelmed by the music the two ponies initially remained oblivious to his presence. Big Mac growled lowly, he rarely spoke but when he did, it was usually worth paying attention. Spotting another bottle sticking haphazardly out of a bush nearby, Big Mac pulled it out by the neck and threw it up at the two ponies where it shattered against the house’s white wall with a loud smash.
“Hey, I’m talkin’ to you!” He bawled, finally catching the partygoers’ attention. They stared down at him drunkenly, their eyes slightly hazed over. One of them he didn’t recognise immediately but the other was quite distinctive, the purple shades and neon blue mane enough to tell him who it was.
“What the hell do you want?” Vinyl Scratch barked, oblivious to the trickle of liquor which ran down the side of her house barely a metre away.
“Who threw that?” Big Mac demanded again, pointing at the smashed glass gleaming under a nearby streetlight.
“Oh that? I was aiming for your cart, dude.” Vinyl said dismissively, immediately turning to talk loudly to the pony beside her again.
“You could’ve hit me!” Big Mac protested, outraged by her flippant attitude.
“Yeah, whatever.” Vinyl said back dismissively.
Big Macintosh was a very hard pony to anger but the flour white DJ was doing a sterling job of it. He huffed and puffed, biting his lip to prevent another outburst. Fuming to himself, he hitched himself back up to his cart, determined to not let the DJ get to him. He’d barely gone another metre when a loud thud sounded behind him. He didn’t need to turn his head to know that, somehow, another dark green bottle would be lying on the bottom of the packed cart.
“A perfect shot!” A voice cried out triumphantly.
Big Mac gritted his teeth and kept on going, the unwelcome occupant of his cart rattling along merrily as the cart clattered over the cobblestones and the rough snow-covered tracks which led out to Sweet Apple Acres. Fuming with anger, he returned straight to the farmhouse, too frustrated to even bother putting his cart away in the barn like he usually did. He slammed the door shut behind him irately, drawing a questioning look from his younger sister who was reading a book in the living room.
“Good day at the market?” Applejack asked as he trudged inside, spreading a few puddles of water and inviting a small pile of slush inside with him.
Big Mac let out an annoyed snort and vanished upstairs.
Applejack shrugged and returned to her book, knowing well enough to not bother her older brother when he was irritated. “Guess that means no.”
***
The next morning Big Mac woke early to find the sky had cleared, leaving great sopping puddles of freezing slush to cover the extensive grounds of Sweet Apple Acres in its absence. ‘So much for ploughing the fields.’ He thought sullenly, examining a patch of mud coloured mush outside his window. If it hadn’t cleared over the next few days he’d have to uncover the fields before planting the last of the winter crop, an annoying prospect considering how long it’d take him to unearth the fields. ‘And I’ve still got to run the stall…’ he thought, watching any spare time he might’ve had slip away like a freshly peeled Choko.
With a grumble he placed his yoke around his neck and trundled downstairs, rewarding himself with a large slice of spiced apple cake Granny Smith had baked yesterday before stepping outside into the already bone chilling wind. He savoured the cake for a moment, his mind gently reminding him that is was Hearth’s Warming day… no doubt it’d be busy, ponies stocking up on their preserves and ciders for their family dinners and lunches. With that in mind, he quickly repacked the cart with fresh stock, emptying a small heap of snow out of the wooden frame and glaring at the empty green bottle which still sat inside the wagon with a measure of cheer he didn’t possess. Setting his broad shoulders against the harness, he set off through the ankle-high slush grumpily, the bottle clinking away like a cow bell as the cart rumbled down the well-worn path towards the farm’s gate. He pushed it to the back of his mind, focusing instead on navigating the snowy path which seemed to vanish on a whim into the deep banks of slushy white snow. He’d have to be careful, another large snowfall and the path back to Sweet Apple Acres would become all but impassable.
‘Clink clink clink!’
With an angry growl, Big Mac reached around, grabbed the bottle by the neck and threw it into a copse of nearby trees as hard as he could. A few seconds passed until he hear a loud crack of the bottle shattering against a tree. Big Mac glared at the shattered remains gleaming in the morning sun, breathing heavily as he collected his thoughts and chased away the angry gremlins playing havoc in his mind. He was both amazed and slightly frightened by how easily it had gotten to him. His thoughts lingered on the DJ for a moment, her self-assured smirk permanently etched into the back of his mind. He took a calming breath and set off again, determined to let nothing else irk him.
‘Yes,’ He thought ‘Today is going to be just fine.’
Needless to say, Big Mac’s optimism didn’t last very long. The morning’s sales were reasonable, bar a few obnoxious ponies who seemed far too preoccupied with their own conversations to pay Big Mac any attention when he was serving them. He’d barely finished serving a particularity obnoxious customer when a speeding Pegasus had cannonballed into the stall, smashing the sturdy structure into a few large splinters and leaving very little of his stock left to sell. The stand would need to be completely replaced so Big Mac called it quits, hauling it back to the farm and smashing it back together would take hours by which time the markets would be closed. He cursed quietly to himself as the Pegasus shot off again, her lesson apparently not learnt as she rocketed haphazardly through the sky with the grace of a drunken elephant. He caught the tail end of her conversation, something about a large snow storm heading towards Ponyville and catalogued it in the back of his mind.
Sullenly, Big Mac picked up the shattered remains of the stall and what little preserve he could salvage, discarding the pulped apples with a disgusted sigh. He was bashing a stubborn nail out of a crossbeam when he realised he was being watched. His eyes narrowed slightly as he recognised the disk jockey from last night.
She smirked, the purples shades that she seemed to always be wearing reflecting Big Mac’s irritated face back at him as well as any mirror would.
“Man, your stall got wrecked!’ She said with a laugh.
Big Mac glared at her silently, not letting himself goaded into doing or saying something stupid. The unicorn continued to watch silently him with an amused grin. She levitated a carrot in front of her face before a moment before taking a contemplative nibble, the alabaster field shimmer excitedly as she spun the orange vegetable around in front of her mouth.
“Don’t you have something better to be doing?” Big Mac asked finally, slightly exasperated by the fact she was just leaning up against a wall and watching him.
She cocked her head to the side, revealing a trace of her red irises under the distinctive reflective glasses. “Let me think about it…” She paused contemplatively, as if thinking about the answer to a difficult set of calculations. Big Mac started to wonder if she’d ever finish her thought when she spoke again, her voice grating against the soft hubbub of the markets. “Nah.”
Big Mac’s scowl deepened, who was she to be so frivolous with her time she could waste half an hour just watching him? She hadn’t even offered to help, even more insulting considering that if she was even partway competent with her magic, she could’ve cleaned the mess up in a few minutes, rather the few hours of cleaning Big Mac still had ahead of him.
“So you ain’t got nothing better to do than just stand there, and annoy me?” Big Mac asked crossly.
“I ain’t doing anything, you’re the one getting annoyed.” She rebutted, revealing a trace of wit which had hidden itself behind her usual behaviour.
‘Very clever.’ Big Mac thought, returning to his task and desperately trying to ignore the unicorn annoying him.
He didn’t last long, he’d barely lasted ten minutes. Ten minutes of her smirking face jumping in the corners of his vision, her purple shades glinting in the low afternoon sun.
“What. Do. You. Want?” He asked exasperatedly, spinning around suddenly and finding himself nose to nose with her. Up close she smelled vaguely like matured cheese and pickles, a curious yet pleasant smell that reminded Big Mac he hadn’t eaten since his ‘breakfast’.
To her credit she didn’t back away, staring him down with that same stupid smirk. If anything, she seemed amused by his outburst. Slowly, she backed away and bopped Big Mac gently on the muzzle with another carrot.
“Got any apples?” She asked lightly.
Big Mac was sure he was about to have an aneurism, his vision turned red and he was certain that if she didn’t vanish quickly things would get ugly. Big Mac hadn’t felt so angry in years, the white unicorn it seemed, had a talent for ticking him off.
A sudden sense of calm came over Big Macintosh.
“Ah’d like it if you went away.” He said slowly, a great deal of anger and frustration underpinning his words. .
The DJ shrugged. “Sure, whatever. Should’ve said something dude.” She said casually, trotting off with a spring in her step.
Big Mac bit the inside of his cheek, resisting the urge to throw something at her. With an annoyed grunt he ground his hoof into the cold earth and continued packing what remained of the stall away.
***
The wind howled around the corner of Vinyl Scratch’s house like an eerie ghost, foreshadowing a large grey storm front which was rapidly moving in. She glanced up, guessing it would only be a few more moments before the storm would arrive, cutting her off from the outside world until its rage had been placated. It’d been several hours since she’d watched the red stallion at the market, a nice bit of eye candy that apparently had some issue with her for some obscure reason. She vaguely recalled something about a bottle but as the unicorn deftly sliced some carrots for a thick soup which now gurgled and bubbled cheerily on the small stove next to her, the incident was all but forgotten. She glanced out the small window, noting many of the townsfolk running for cover as the leading edge of the storm broke over the outskirts of Ponyville. She grimaced, a split second of concern for her neighbours showing on her face before she returned her attention to the broth which she was busy preparing.
With a deft flick the DJ threw the raw cubes of carrot she had diced into the pot, snatching a few of them out of the air mid-flight so she had something to chew on in the meantime. Humming quietly, she slowly drifted from the kitchen to her cosy bedroom upstairs; a small dark blue room which her parents insisted looked more a rubbish tip whenever they rarely visited. Vinyl didn’t mind the mess, she relished it in fact. The room was in such a state of organised chaos that regardless of what she was searching for she could find within a minute or two. Last time she’d even tried cleaning the cramped space, she’d lost more than she’d found.
She passed her housemate’s room and smiled thinly, Octavia would sooner break her precious double bass in half rather than let her room fall into such a state. The other mare had almost barricaded her door shut to keep Vinyl out while she was away, something about visiting Canterlot and seeing her parents for Hearth’s Warming, Vinyl remembered numbly.
Finally arriving at her small bedroom, Vinyl flopped down on her bed, the springs sagging slightly under her weight and reminding her like they had for the last two years that she needed a new mattress. She searched the room absently, her mind drifting back to the red stallion at the market today. He was familiar, a regular face she saw around town but his name escaped her memory… Applejack maybe? Or was that his sister? She shook her head in exasperation, there were far too many Apples in general. She felt a guilty pang in her chest, perhaps she’d been a little too foolish with him, stringing him along rather than helping out. Maybe she could make it up to him sometime… She shook her head again, reaching for a small pointless gizmo she’d made exactly for that purpose, the quiet grinding of gears a welcome noise over the howling wind which now buffeted her window. They were completely different ponies and he seemed fairly well set on disliking her. She had to admit, he wasn’t exactly her kind of type either.
She let out a quiet sigh, it’d be a few more minutes until the soup was done. Her recording gear was switched off and packed away, necessitating some time before it’d be ready for use. Overcome by a sense of curiosity and boredom, Vinyl rolled onto her belly and looked out her window at the storm which now roared through the town like a banging bass track. The steady of trickles of snowflakes which had started falling since she’d left the market had now been replaced by a howling flurry of snow which cut and scythed its way through the air in intricate paths. Visibility was down to a few metres and the faint glow of the streetlights was the only source of light that penetrated the raging white storm.
Her eyes caught a flash of red ploughing through the already knee-high snowbanks and with a hint of surprise she recognised the stallion from the market struggling through the snow with his cart. Vinyl pondered the sight for a few moments, wondering why he was making his way home so late and why he was braving weather so fierce even a Wonderbolt would be having second thoughts about. Evidently he had been too stubborn to leave his broken stall behind and had misjudged the arrival of the storm. She bit her lip for a moment before searching for a heavy coat, a slight amount of concern for the stallion rising above her desire to watch him freeze his gonads off for amusement. Struggling into the coat she forced the door to her small veranda open, wincing as the wind and snow cut into her face.
“Hey buddy, you alright?” she called, her voice immediately getting caught up and lost in the wind. Realising he couldn’t hear her, she stumbled back inside and hurried downstairs, quickly checking the cheerfully simmering soup before finally barging outside into the bone-chilling cold. She resisted the urge to return to her warm and snuggly donah, ploughing through the nearly chest high snow towards the pony.
She slogged through the snow, quickly catching up to the labouring stallion that was now passing by her front door.
“Hey, you alright?” She called again, tapping the large red pony on the shoulder. His head spun around slowly, shaking a thick layer of snow out of his mane as he did so. His eyes narrowed slightly under his goggles as he realised who it was.
“Fine!” He yelled back, his voice barely audible over the howling wind.
“You sure?” Vinyl asked, noting the tiny shivers which ran up and down his toned body.
“Sure! Now go away!” He barked, stumbling in the now chest-deep snow.
Vinyl raised an eyebrow sceptically and pulled her coat around her tighter, even if he somehow got out of town without turning into an apple flavoured popsicle, most of the back roads he’d have to take to get towards the apple farm he worked on would already be impassable. She pointed this out to him, receiving a fierce glare for her trouble.
“I’ll manage.” He rumbled above the wind.
“No you won’t, leave your cart and come with me.” Vinyl said firmly. Whatever she thought about him, she wasn’t heartless enough to let him go off and die. She’d never forgive herself for that.
The stallion glared at her, rejecting the helping hoof she offered with a venomous scowl.
“Oh come on you stubborn mule! You’ll freeze to death out here.” Vinyl growled, “And you’re a bit of a rare specimen.” She added pointedly, giving his leg a tug to no avail, he was so strong he probably could’ve hauled her house without breaking stride. She glowered at him for a moment before he finally saw reason, shucking off his harness and following her through the deep snow to the narrow rectangle of light which fell through her still open front door. With a grunt, Vinyl slammed the door behind him, cutting off the howling gale which had mercilessly assaulted them. With a sudden shiver, she took her coat off and glared at the large patch of snow which had invaded the landing; no doubt it’d eventually melt and soak into the carpet but there wasn’t much she could do about that without inviting more snow in.
“Make yourself comfy.” She mumbled, pointing to the tiny living room off to the left furnished with a few slightly tacky lounges and a worn coffee table. “You want anything?” She asked.
He threw her a look but remained silent, leaving Vinyl staring stupidly at the space he’d just occupied.
“Geez, one tough customer.” She muttered to herself eventually, shaking a few patches of ice which had started forming in her electric blue mane free. She shot a look at the stallion who seemed to take up most of the living room before retreating to the kitchen to check the soup again.
Satisfied the softly bubbling broth wouldn’t spoil for a little while longer, she snuck back into the lounge room and sat opposite the hulking red stallion awkwardly. He tossed an occasional glare at her, as if the storm outside was her fault but otherwise seemed oblivious to her presence. Vinyl was starting to wonder if leaving him out in the storm was really such a bad idea.
“So…” She said, looking at nothing in particular before focusing on her companion. She’d had an easy enough time ogling him at the market but now that he was in home he seemed much more intimidating, she wouldn’t admit that she was a little cowed by his presence though… well, at least not to his face. “Do you have a name?” She finally managed.
He hesitated for a moment, slipping the heavy yoke which sat around his neck off and ruffling his orange mane again. “Big Macintosh.” He muttered, his voice tiny compared to the pony it came from. He poked at the shabby lounge hesitantly, making Vinyl feel surprisingly self-conscious.
“I’m Vinyl Scratch.” She blurted, sounding like a filly on her first date, “But everypony just calls me Vinyl.”
Big Mac frowned, he hadn’t asked for name nor did he particularly care. “Look, Ms Scratch-.” Big Mac started.
“Vinyl.” The DJ corrected. “Only the police call me that.”
Big Mac seemed to swallow a lump in his throat. “…Vinyl. Ah appreciate your, uh, thoughtfulness but Ah, uh, really can’t stay.” He said with a tone that reeked with forced politeness.
Vinyl adopted a bemused look. “Really? You'd rather go out there again?”
He seemed slightly put off by the look, his mouth flapping open and shut uselessly. “Uhh...”
“I’ll get some soup for you. You’ll like it, it’s my mum’s recipe “
Big Macintosh tried backpedalling “Ah reall-.”
“It’s no trouble, I’ll go get it for you.” She said, waving away his flimsy excuse before it could even leave his mouth. Big Macintosh frowned slightly but offered no further objections, casting his large green eyes around the room silently, lingering on her for a few seconds before darting away again when he noticed her looking. They seemed to finally settle on the small Hearth’s Warming tree she’d set up in the corner, his almost emerald eyes reflecting the small string of lights which covered the tiny tree. It was odd, he almost seemed embarrassed, surprised even, that she was being nice to him. Vinyl coughed awkwardly and excused herself again, unsure of what to think of her impromptu guest. He didn’t seem like exceptionally fun company but Vinyl was tempted to iron out whatever rift had formed between them, even if that meant spending the night with possibly the quietest and possibly the most boring pony she’d ever met. Then again, she reflected, wasn’t that in itself interesting?
She trotted back into the kitchen and took the soup off the stove; she’d made enough for a few days so she wasn’t concerned about sharing it with her new arrival and running out. She spooned out two generous helpings and carried them back to other room, a slight shimmer of alabaster surrounding both bowls as her magic took hold. She strode back into the other room and slid a bowl in front of the stallion before retreating to the other side of the room to eat her own meal silently.
Big Mac stared at the bowl for a few moments, an almost confused look on his face before he took the bowl and sat it between his fore hooves with an almost silent ‘Thank you’. Vinyl suppressed a small smile, at least he wasn’t trying to run away anymore.
Vinyl poked at her bowl half-heartedly for several minutes before finally working up the courage to speak. He’d seemed overtly hostile initially but now with a bowl of soup tucked between his fore hooves, he seemed immeasurably more approachable.
“So what’s your deal?” She asked eventually, taking a measured sip of her soup as she waited for the stallion to respond.
Big Mac looked up hesitantly. “Excuse me?”
She rolled her eyes. “What’s your beef?”
He looked at her, a clueless look plastered on his wide face. It took Vinyl a moment to realise he didn’t understand her jargon.
Vinyl let out an annoyed sigh. “Why’d you flip out today?” She pushed.
Big Macintosh blinked slowly, wondering what to say. His opinion of the DJ had changed rather sharply, he hadn’t asked for shelter and he certainly hadn’t asked for food… if he hadn’t known better he wouldn’t have taken the pony sitting across from him as the same one which had hurled bottles at him the other night. He’d never been a particularly good judge of character but he knew a good, honest, hardworking pony when he saw one and she hadn’t seemed like the type at first glance.
Perhaps he’d been a little harsh on her?
“Guess Ah didn’t really… I mean…” He trailed off helplessly; he’d never been good at explaining himself.
“What? What?” She pestered.
He shrugged helplessly, completely lost for words.
Vinyl Scratch smiled knowingly. “Oh… I get it, you totally pegged me as this wild out-of-control party animal who was just messing with ya for fun.” She gave him an overt wink. “Don’t worry, get it all the time.”
Big Mac looked from side to side nervously. “Really?”
“Nah, I’m just a big softie.” She laughed hoarsely before becoming stern again. “But seriously, don’t tell anypony. Can’t let them think I’ve gone all soft ‘n shit. I’ve got this nice reputation around these here I’d rather not get ruined.” She added, showing a little attitude that Big Mac had expected from her.
“Alrighty then.” Big Mac quipped quietly, tucking into his soup a little less guiltily. The quality of the meal coupled with the still slightly tense atmosphere ensured the soup in Big Mac’s bowl was swiftly decimated, leaving only a few traces of the meal at the bottom of the dish. Not particularly willing to start a new conversation with his companion though, Big Mac sat in silence, watching the slowly flickering lights on Vinyl’s Hearth Warming tree and glancing at the unicorn when he thought he could get away with it, which wasn’t often as he found her eyes boring into his skull more often than not. It felt like he must’ve spent hours staring at the bulbs, pondering what his own family was doing while he was stuck in the DJ’s company. He found himself enjoying the silence, watching the night slowly slip away as the howling blizzard raged around them.
There was a small clatter of china as Vinyl stood up. She pried the bowl from Big Mac’s hooves with a gentle tug of magic and trotted away, leaving the stallion alone in his small chair. Big Mac looked around awkwardly before standing up and following her, suddenly feeling very lonely. He realised, much to his surprise, that Vinyl was the only pony he’d actually spent any meaningful amount of time with for the day. Odd, considering that he’d been tempted to whack her on the head with a pointed stick not that long ago. He pushed his way through the tiny kitchen door, surprised by how tidy the cosy house was, considering Vinyl was known for her somewhat wild parties. The unicorn in question was propped up by the small sink, sorting the bowls and cutlery for washing in an efficient manner that only a unicorn could manage and an Earth pony could only dream about. Again, feeling a little guilty, Big Mac made a move to help her but was pushed back by a hastily thrown tea-towel
“I can manage by myself thanks.” Vinyl growled softly, shifting the bowls just out of his reach with a pulse of magic. She didn’t seem to quite mean it though, allowing Big Mac to push past her and pluck the gently spinning plate out the air.
“It’s the least Ah can do.” Big Mac said firmly, his gaze enough to convince the unicorn to back off from the washing.
“You sure?” Vinyl asked, leaning up against the kitchen door with a bemused look.
“If you can’t wash, don’t eat.” Big Mac quoted, dunking the two bowls under the faucet and placing them on the drainer once he was satisfied they was clean. He took the heavy pot off the stove and after a moment’s consideration shoved it into the cooler which sat idly in the corner.
“You’d make a good housewife.” Vinyl remarked dryly from her spot against the doorframe, her ruby eyes following him around the kitchen like a hawk.
Big Mac made a sound somewhere between a yawn and an amused snort, he could hardly imagine himself in such a position.
“As… pleasant as this was, ah need to get back to the farm.” Big Mac remarked, it was getting late now and his family would probably be worrying about him by now. That and he didn’t particularly want to stay the night here, he wasn’t sure if he could handle that.
“Good luck with that, we’re pretty much snowed in.” Vinyl pointed out, indicating to the snow which was now lapping near the top of the windows. “Besides, I don’t mind you staying.” She added, her emotionless voice not quite matching her excited look.
Big Mac glared at the snow, wondering if the weather pegasi had simply had something against him or were desperately trying to set something up between him and the DJ. Knowing the team, either were entirely possible.
“Looks like Ah don’t have much choice then.” He said grumpily, thinking of his own comfy bed waiting for him back at Sweet Apple Acres. No doubt it’d be luxury compared to whatever Vinyl Scratch could offer him.
“Sweet, being alone on Hearth’s Warming sucks.” Vinyl said, dancing from hoof to hoof in a way which Big Mac hated to admit, made her look adorable.
Big Mac found himself agreeing with her, normally the Apples would have a big family meal, sometimes with some of the extended family if they were lucky, to celebrate the occasion. He could hardly imagine what it be like to spend the entire day alone. He winced internally, he had spent the day mostly alone… apart from Vinyl. He wondered silently if she was like this every year, celebrating by herself.
“Where can ah sleep then?” Big Mac asked, yawning quietly.
“My bed.” Vinyl remarked casually.
“Well then where are you goin’ to sleep?” Big Mac asked slowly.
“My bed.” Vinyl chimed again.
Big Mac raised an eyebrow sceptically. “Ah don’t think here’s going to be much sleeping going on then.”
Vinyl snorted in amusement. “Don’t worry babycakes, I’ve got standards.” She chuckled, trotting up the narrow wooden staircase which presumably led up to the house’s two small bedrooms with a slight spring in her stride.
‘And what are those like?” Big Mac asked, glancing dubiously at the staircase as if it might collapse under his weight.
“Depends who’s asking. “ Vinyl said with a shrug.
Big Mac shuddered involuntarily, from the cold or from Vinyl’s statement though, he was unsure. Shoving his discomfort aside, Big Mac clambered after her, eyeing the stairs and flinching at every ominous creak they made.
The DJ turned her head to look at him, as if understanding his hesitation. “Well the couch is open but I’ll say from experience it’s not comfy. And you probably wouldn’t fit.”
“And what about in here?” Big Macintosh asked, pointing at the barricaded room off to his right. A large sign had been hastily nailed to the front. Welcoming with him with the large letters KEEP OUT.
“That’s my housemate’s room, if you go in there you’ll probably wake up your spine broken over a double bass. Or worse, Octavia’s pretty crazy man.”
Big Mac rolled his eyes irately, he probably wouldn’t have even fitted on the couch downstairs if his previous attempt was any indication. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself and despite whatever reservations he had about sharing a bed with Vinyl, it seemed a much better option than the floor.
“Alright, fine,” He grumped.
“Yes, shotgun little spoon!” Vinyl called before dashing off into her room, leaving Big Mac standing out in the hallway with a stupid look on his face.
“Oh for…” He started before deciding that cussing wouldn’t solve anything. Accepting his fate he trudged into the room after the DJ. He hadn’t even crossed the threshold when he reeled back in surprise, it was like someone had gone through the bedroom with a thresher several times before sticking it all in a blender for good measure. Junk seemed to litter every corner and what looked like a neon blue sock dangled precariously from the door of a large wardrobe.
“You live in this?” He asked to the room at large, his eyes widening in shock.
“Yeah, isn’t it great?” A voice said from somewhere within a pile Big Mac realised was actually a large double bed.
Big Mac shook his head silently, too tired to make a proper response. He carefully picked his way through the junk, wincing as he crushed something clumsily. He was making decent progress until he tripped over a curious scooter without handlebars and crashed face first onto a pile on the bed, a pile that turned out to be his companion snuggled into a blanket.
She emerged from the pile of sheets with a fiery grin, her muzzle nearly pressed up against his. “Getting a little frisky aren’t we?” She chided, bopping him on the nose playfully before retreating to a more sociable distance.
“Eeyup.” Big Mac quipped, wriggling off her with almost indecent haste. He curled up onto the other side of the bed as far away as he could from the DJ until his hooves were pressed up against a dark blue wall which matched her mane.
“What, do I smell?” Vinyl teased, relinquishing control of some of the heavy donah to Big Mac. She chuckled quietly at her own joke and flicked the light off with a swishing motion from her horn, plunging the room into darkness. Gradually Big Mac’s vision adjusted to the gloom, allowing him to pick out the hundreds of items which littered the floor; well, at least he would’ve been able to if his face wasn’t pressed up against a wall clumsily. An awkward silence fell over the room, Big Mac unsure of what to do or say, or if he should say anything at all, to the mare next to him.
Uncertain, Big Mac decided that he'd do what he did best and just stay silent.
Seconds turned into minutes, minutes; hours. Big Mac lay there, almost hoping for something, anything to break the awkward feeling that surged through him. He couldn’t tell if Vinyl had fallen asleep and he wasn’t about to ask her and find out.
There was soft rustling of bed sheets and he felt a presence behind him, the soft and fuzzy feeling of fur brushing up against fur and then Vinyl’s face rubbed against his neck. He instinctively made to move away from the contact but decided not to, her fur was soft and fuzzy; a stark and welcome comparison from his rough red coat. He felt a jolt of electricity shoot down his spine as she buried her face in his messy mane.
“Thanks.” She muttered quietly into his ear.
“For?” Big Mac asked, suddenly wide awake. He decided he didn’t mind Vinyl snuggled up against him, odd considering he usually didn’t like other ponies touching him.
“Forgiving me for whatever that stupid thing I did was.” She said carelessly. “And for spending the night. Hearth’s Warming is always better with company. I can’t remember the last time I had somepony over for Hearth’s Warming.”
“No family? Friends?” Big Mac queried.
“I don’t get along with my family much and I don’t have many friends around here.” Vinyl explained. “Octavia invariably goes to see her parents and will play in some symphony in Canterlot for Hearth’s Warming.”
“You could go with her.” Big Mac suggested.
“Oh, I tried…” Vinyl said sheepishly. “After that incident with her dad and the mistletoe thoughm things got a bit… weird.”
Big Mac raised an eyebrow in amusement, wondering what Vinyl could’ve possibly done. She didn’t volunteer any further information so he was left to his imagination. The thought didn’t last long as she nuzzled up against him again with a happy sigh.
“This is nice.” She purred.
Big Mac was inclined to agree. He had to admit it perhaps felt a little forced but he wouldn’t deny he didn’t mind having the DJ snuggled up against him like a cat. He could feel her steady breathing and the solid, thumping beats of her heart in her chest. As intimate moments went, he had to admit this one was pretty good. Vinyl seemed to grasp this all well, not trying to rush things and just letting his rough mane tickle her nose as she drifted off with her hooves wrapped around the barrel of his body.
Big Mac felt her drift off, her breathing becoming slow and steady as the DJ slumbered. He allowed small trace of a small to grace his features. “Yes, this is nice.”
***
Octavia smashed the front door down with an aggressive kick, allowing a small pile of snow to cascade in after her. The train from Canterlot had been delayed due to the snow and she was in a foul mood, a feeling only exasperated by the heavy slush which had fallen in her short absence.
She slammed the door shut and stalked inside, her heavy saddlebags banging against her flanks noisily as she searched for her housemate. Despite her usual late night stints, Vinyl was a surprisingly early riser. If Octavia hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought her housemate didn’t sleep at all.
“Vinyl!” She called, surprised to not find a trace the unicorn up and about or working in her tiny studio she’d set up in the dingy room under the stairs. Curious, Octavia headed upstairs, ungraciously dumping her bag in her room before marching down the short hallway towards Vinyl’s room. She hesitated, noticing her friend’s door slightly ajar, a crack of morning light spilling into the otherwise windowless hallway through the gap between the door and the frame.
“Vinyl?” Octavia whispered, opening the door slightly and peering into the chaotic mess that made up her housemate’s room. She was used to the mess by now, her many years with Vinyl making her somewhat tolerant of the pigsty. What she wasn’t expecting was a second, incredibly large lump on Vinyls’ bed. She a tentative step closer, realising the second lump was a stallion, a stallion of such size that it left little doubt who it was.
“I see.” She purred devilishly. She retreated from the room, slowly making her way back to her own dorm to retrieve something. She snuck back into Vinyl’s room, camera in tow. She snapped a quick shot, chuckling as the photo slid out the front with a faint whir.
The sound seemed to rouse Vinyl from her slumber, her messy roommate rolling over and groggily, her ruby red eyes locking with Octavia’s purple ones.
“I swear, this is not what it looks like.” Vinyl said immediately before noticing exactly what Octavia had in her hoof.
“This would look nice in the town paper, don’t you think?” Octavia asked with a grin, showcasing the lovely photo of Vinyl snuggled up to Big Macintosh lovingly to her horrified roommate.
“You wouldn’t dare...” Vinyl breathed, knowing full well that Octavia would. Her suspicions were confirmed a moment later when her roommate shot her a cheeky grin and bolted out of the room. Vinyl barely had a moment to react before the sound of Octavia’s door slamming shut echoed through the house.
“OCTAVIA, I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!” Vinyl yelled, darting out into the hall and smashing on Octavia’s door.
A quiet snicker answered her.
