Berry Bitters and Apple Sours

by King of Beggars

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Romance, Big Macintosh, Slice of Life, Berry Punch
Length: 12600

Big Mac is home alone for a few weeks and he plans to take full advantage of it, but as he checks on the family orchard he discovers a pest with plans of her own.

For the first time in a long time, the Apple Family Reunion is being held somewhere other than Sweet Apple Acres. Big Mac decides this is his chance to finally have some time to himself and volunteers to stay behind to look after the homestead. But time alone doesn't mean that the chores can be ignored.

Berry Punch has had her eye on a certain stallion for a while now, and with his family out of the way, it's the perfect chance to test the waters.

Published 2014-06-30 05:10:04 UTC
Last updated 2014-06-30 05:10:04 UTC

Berry Bitters and Apple Sours

Tending to the lands that provided one of the most important food staples in Ponyville was a heavy responsibility, and one which the Apple family took seriously. Mornings at Sweet Apple Acres always started early; when the sun rose, so did they. It had been that way since they'd first settled on the homestead granted to them by Princess Celestia.

And that was why Big Macintosh had finally decided to sleep in for once.

He smiled as he opened his eyes and glanced at the alarm clock on his nightstand. It was almost eight o’clock, and it was the latest he’d ever slept in. Even when he’d had the flu as a colt, Granny had made him get up at the crack of dawn to take a bath while she changed his bed sheets.

He rolled out of bed, groaning as his body protested having been at rest for much longer than it was used to. He arched his back, stretching his spine with the satisfying little pops that always earned him a glare from AJ, who always said that the noise made her teeth rattle.

Big Mac slipped on his favorite yoke and stuck his head out of his bedroom door, looking up and down the halls cautiously. The only sound he heard was the gentle creak of floorboards under his heavy hooves, so he trotted happily down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Unlike most mornings, the kitchen table was bare. Usually he'd awake to find a hearty breakfast awaiting him, but today cereal would have to do.

He pulled an extra large salad bowl from the cabinet, grabbed the most sugary cereal he could find, and emptied the box into the bowl along with a whole bottle of milk. He sat at the table and ate his breakfast with one of Granny’s big mixing spoons.

Big Mac smiled as he picked up the cereal box and flipped it around. Despite being well into her teens, Apple Bloom was still a child at heart, and it was a very rare treat indeed to find the activity portion of a cereal box unfinished in the Apple household. The maze on the back featured the cereal mascot – a smiling cartoon diamond dog named Daring Dingo the Digger – trying to get to a bowl of Sugar Frosted Marshmallow Dingo Spirals while avoiding the treacherous traps set by the Marshmallow Anti-Spirals.

Once his breakfast was finished and Daring Dingo’s path to sugary treasure had been secured, Big Mac deposited his bowl in the sink next to the plates from the previous night’s dinner. A smirk crept across his lips as he walked away, leaving the dishes unwashed with impish amusement.

Big Mac loved his family more than anything, but he was glad to be getting a little vacation away from the mares in his life while they spent a few weeks in Appleloosa helping to get things ready for the next family reunion. The event was usually held on Sweet Apple Acres, but Braeburn had asked to host it for once, so for the first time in his life, Big Mac would be missing a reunion. Somepony had to stay behind to tend to things while the rest of the family went on, and Big Macintosh had volunteered for the job.

He would rather have gone to the reunion, but that didn’t mean he didn’t fully intend to enjoy himself. The rest of the family had only been gone for a day and already he’d committed enough acts of bachelorhood to have earned him a scolding, a browbeating, two henpeckings, and a three day sentence to the dog house without the possibility of parole.

It was glorious.

He stepped out onto the porch and sighed in content. Fun was fun, but there were chores that needed doing.

The first chore of the day was always the same: feed the chickens and gather the eggs. Luckily it was one of the quickest chores on the farm, and the chickens had been understanding about having to wait a few extra hours for breakfast. He’d informed them the night before that he’d been planning to sleep in and they’d all taken the opportunity to do the same.

He finished his chore in record time, the little bounce in his step and the song in his heart speeding him through the task. He dropped the eggs off in the cold storage shed for packing later and walked back to the front porch.

He looked at the work schedule posted next to the front door; even though he knew it backwards and forwards, it always paid to double check. He’d be working the southwestern field. It was one of the smaller groves, despite having some of their oldest trees, and it wasn’t due for bucking for a while. All he needed to do was do a quick inspection of the trees to check for disease or infestation, and make sure the weather teams were keeping the soil properly hydrated.

It was shaping up to be a great day.

***

“Soil’s dry,” Big Mac muttered softly as he pawed at the dirt in the southwestern field. He dug a little further down and found a layer of dark, cool soil. At least the watering schedule wasn’t too far off; probably only a day or so.

A lot of things could be said about Rainbow Dash’s tenure as the town’s weather manager, and not all of them good. But Big Mac would never say that she’d missed a scheduled rainfall over the fields without at least dropping by to give an excuse and a promise to correct it quickly. Thunderlane, Rainbow’s replacement after she left to join the Wonderbolts, was a good enough fella, but he could be a little flighty, even for a pegasus. They would definitely need to have words, and soon, about the importance of schedule keeping.

He walked up to a tree and peered critically at the fruit it bore. None of the apples looked ripe enough to buck yet, but they were free of blemishes or discoloration. He ran a hoof briskly up and down the tree’s trunk, nodding when none of the bark came loose.

He moved on to another tree and performed the same tests. Twelve trees at random checked out just fine from the small battery of testing, and a quick jog through the field turned up nothing obvious on any of the others.

He turned and started back up the dirt path leading to the house. He took his time, strolling through the fields and enjoying the quiet comfort of knowing that he was the only pony on the whole farm. Usually AJ would be shouting at Apple Bloom about her chores, or Granny would be shouting at AJ to stop shouting so much, or Bloom would be shouting that nopony needed to shout because she could hear them just fine.

But today there was quiet. For a pony like Big Macintosh, who spoke only when he had something to say, quiet was a commodity worth its weight in bits.

He stopped near one of the fields of their early blooming cultivars, checking a tree and noticing that some of the apples were just ripe enough for eating. They’d keep another month or so, until AJ and Bloom were back and the preparations for the early bucking season were done, so there was no hurry.

No hurry except for the slow gurgle of his stomach, urging him to make one of the tasty little beauties into a snack.

He scanned the tree with a practiced eye and found the biggest, juiciest apple on the tree. The weight of it sagged the tree limb, and Big Mac was willing to lighten that burden.

He turned his back, pulled up one leg, and gave a swift kick in one particular spot, freeing only the apple he wanted. It was an old earthpony parlor trick, but one that his family did better than anypony else. He held out a hoof and waited for the apple to fall right into it.

After a few moments of holding nothing but air, he looked up to find an unburdened branch where the apple had been only seconds ago. He hadn’t heard a thump, but he searched the ground anyway, wondering where his prize could have gotten off to.

The crisp sound of teeth biting into a ripe, fresh apple cut through the air. Big Mac looked up at the source of the sound and blinked curiously.

An earthpony mare was lying on her side atop one of the strong limbs of the next tree over. Her coat was a light plum color, and her messy, windswept mane was a darker raspberry. On her flank she wore a Cutie Mark of a strawberry beside a grape bunch.

The mare bit into the apple again, chewing thoughtfully and washing it down with a swig from a large, red lacquered drinking gourd. The gourd hung from a strap across her chest that wrapped around the slender middle connecting the two bulbous ends of the thing.

“Neat trick,” she commented, sounding only mildly impressed. “And great apple. You picked a good one.”

Big Mac’s mood deflated as the cracked remnants of his quiet day of stoic reflection were shattered by another loud bite, this time accompanied by a rudely loud slurp as the intruder sucked in the juice that dribbled down her chin.

“Miss Berry?” he asked in confusion. “Can ah help ya?”

Berry Punch had lived in Ponyville for a good long while, but a few years back she’d decided to expand her home microbrewing business into something more impressive. Expansion of course meant having to buy a larger plot of land to accommodate her various stills, vats, and storehouses. Her need for land had led her to move out of Ponyville and into an open lot down the way from Sweet Apple Acres.

However, Berry wasn’t a very sociable neighbor. She’d only dropped by maybe a dozen times over the years and those visits were usually in regards to business. When she did come to the farm she mostly just spoke to Applejack. What he did know of her was that she was what could be considered the town drunk. While not the sort to cause trouble or make a nuisance of herself, she was rarely ever seen without some sort of alcoholic beverage within reach.

“That all depends, neighbor,” Berry said coolly, her eyes closed as she continued to languidly chew her pilfered snack. “I just popped in for a bit of sugar.”

The mare turned her gaze downward at the burly stallion and spit an apple seed out the side of her mouth. “You got any… sugar for me?” she asked, dropping her voice – already thickly feminine from a lifetime of pickling – to dangerously husky levels.

Big Mac blinked, unsure of how to respond to the girl’s obvious advance. He was no stranger to being flirted with, and any other day he would be willing to at least humor a mare, even if he wasn’t interested, but this was supposed to be his ‘me time’. After a few moments of thought, he came to the realization that he would have to beat a hasty retreat if he was going to salvage his day of peace and quiet.

“Nope,” he said simply. “No sugar, and if ya will excuse me, ah’ve got chores that still need tendin’.”

He shook his head and started trotting back towards the house, his speed increased a little from the lazy stroll he’d had before his ambush. He went a little ways down the path then flicked his ears around, listening for the sound of pursuit, and relaxed as he heard only his own steps. He risked a look over his shoulder to confirm what his ears were telling him and smiled as he found himself alone. That had been a close one, but it looked like his day of hermit-like solitude would continue uninterrupted.

“Really? No sugar at all?”

Big Macintosh’s head whipped around at the sound of Berry’s voice. She was lying on the ground beneath one of the trees on the path in front of him, right out in the open where he should have seen her.

But he hadn’t seen her. She’d just appeared out of thin air.

“How’d ya do that?” he asked cautiously, wary that it might be the sort of magical trickery that had plagued Ponyville nearly weekly for a stretch of time some years back. Those sorts of shenanigans weren’t as common nowadays, but vigilance was the watchword in Ponyville when it came to possible magicky goings on.

Berry stood quickly, teetering a little on her hooves as she tried to maintain her balance.

“Same as you did,” she explained simply. “I just put one hoof… in front of the other… like this…”

She began to walk forward, towards the house and away from Big Mac. She exaggerated her every step, jutting out her hips and rolling her shoulders a little in a way that added a sultry note to her drunken sway. Berry was fairly petite for a gal who consumed so many empty calories, but nopony would say that she wasn’t dragging one dynamite wagon.

Big Macintosh felt heat in his cheeks as he watched the enticing display. He snorted in annoyance and trotted quickly to pass her on the trail.

“Nope, afraid we ain’t got much in the way of sugar,” Big Mac informed her once again.

“That’s a pity,” Berry sighed as she sped up to keep pace with the stallion. Her gait shifted from a half-stumbling, seductive sway into a perfectly sober looking trot. The drinking gourd around her neck beat a steady rhythm against her chest as she went. “Don’t suppose you’ve got some of that world famous Apple Family Cider lying around I could buy?”

“Ah reckon we might have a barrel ah could scrounge up for ya,” he said with a nod, seeing his chance to maybe get rid of his unexpected guest if he sacrificed one of his prized barrels.

“Awesome. I’ve been in the mood to make some hard cider. So I’ll have some ready for Hearth’s Warming, ya know? I didn’t want to wait until the regular cider season so I thought I’d come by and check.”

“That’s ‘bout seven months away,” Big Mac said with a raised eyebrow. “Cider doesn’t even take half that to brew.”

“If you want to just drink apple juice, sure,” Berry explained, her face twisting up in a grimace of distaste. “Good cider takes time, just like any liquor.”

They carried on in silence until they reached the house and Big Macintosh pointed to the front porch, indicating that Berry should have a seat in the shade and wait for him. He walked to the barn and made a beeline for a pile of hay stacks set against a corner in the back of the building. With a grunt he rearranged the pile until the bails were out of the way, revealing a cellar door which opened to a staircase leading into the darkness. He lit an oil lantern leaning against the wall and carried it down.

They had taken to covering up the storage cellar to keep prying hooves out of the family’s private reserves. Those hooves mainly belonged to Rainbow Dash, but that was neither here nor there. He located the last of their still sealed cider barrels and sighed. There were only two of the extra large barrels left, and letting Berry take one would mean having to ration the last one until the next cider season.

He tilted the heavy cask of cider with one hoof and slipped his head under it, catching it as it fell and balancing it expertly between the back of his head and the wooden frame of his yoke. He ascended the stairs and set down the barrel so he could cover the cellar back up. Once their hiding place was back in order, he picked the barrel back up and walked it back out to where Berry sat on the porch, staring off into the fields and drinking from that jug of hers.

“Got yer cider,” Big Mac announced as he stepped onto the porch and set the barrel down again.

“Much thanks,” Berry said with a thirsty gleam in her eye as she beheld the barrel. “Put it on my tab?”

He nodded his agreement.

“Need help gettin’ that back to the house?” he offered. “It’s mighty heavy.”

“Nah I got this,” she said.

Before he could insist on helping the petite mare, she had already tilted the barrel and flipped it over, sticking her head underneath quickly to catch it. She effortlessly stood with the thing atop her head like a hat.

Berry laughed at Big Mac’s gaping stare. “Didn’t think I could lift this? I’m a brewmaster. What do you think I keep my liquor in, water balloons?”

She turned to leave, pausing only briefly to flick her tail across the stallion’s nose. The feel of her tail against his nostrils caused him to blush and sneeze, as the act proved both aggressively flirtatious and ticklish.

She galloped away, laughing like a schoolfilly that had stolen a kiss and made to escape before the victim of her lip banditry could process what had happened.

Big Macintosh shook his head to clear the flustered thoughts away as he watched the infuriatingly forward mare disappear around a bend in the path. He huffed and went inside to get something in his stomach. There were still chores to be done, but they could wait for a bit. His short run in with Berry Punch had left him feeling surprisingly drained and sorely in need of a nap.

At least she was out of his hair and he wouldn’t have to deal with her again for a good long while.

***

Big Macintosh stepped out of the cold storage shed, happy to feel the warm glow of the sun against his chilled fur. He closed the door behind himself and sat on his haunches to inspect his hooves. He sighed as he rubbed his appendages together, wiping off the little bits of shell and egg yolk that were sticking to his coat.

There were a lot of benefits to being larger than average and stronger than most, but those gifts didn’t really translate well to something as delicate as egg packing. Usually the job was AJ or Bloom’s responsibility as they both had a much gentler touch than he did. Even still, he had decided to give it the old college try since neither of them would be back any time soon. He’d only actually broken a half dozen of them, which was a new record since the last time he’d tried to do it on his own.

“You got a little something on the side of your mouth, Hoss.”

Big Mac’s entire body stiffened in recognition of the voice. He turned his head and found Berry Punch standing less than two paces away, a mischievous smile on her lips. Once again she’d somehow found a way to sneak up on him.

“Let me get that for you,” she said with a lick of her lips. She closed the distance in the blink of an eye, her head darting forward like an uncoiling snake as she opened her mouth and dragged her tongue roughly over his cheek.

Big Mac jumped backwards in shock, his legs tangling clumsily and dropping him to the ground. His hoof went to the side of his face as he felt the slick warmth of her saliva quickly cooling in the open air against his cheek.

Berry began to laugh uproariously at the stallion’s graceless tumble. Her laughter soon turned into a hacking cough. She sputtered and spit, blowing raspberries and tugging at her tongue with her hooves.

“Ugh!” she cried as she upended her wine jug directly into her mouth and began swishing. “What the hay was that!? It was crunchy and slimy!”

Mac’s embarrassment quickly turned to delight at what he felt was a justified turn of events for his attacker.

“Ah was packin’ eggs for market,” he explained with a grin. “My hooves are kind of big for it, so ah tried movin’ ‘em with my mouth. A few of ‘em broke and ah guess ah didn’t quite get it all.”

“That’s so gross,” she said, working her mouth in an attempt to get the sensation of slimy, uncooked egg white off her tongue.

“Well maybe ya shouldn’t go ‘round lickin’ ponies on the face,” he told her flatly.

“I thought it’d be sexy, okay!?”

“Sexiness aside, what’d ya want besides to show up and embarrass yerself?” he asked with barely contained cheer. “If y'all are here to tease me again, ya can just forget it and head on home.”

“Teasing?” she repeated as she ceased her spasms of disgust, trying to regain some of her seductive composure. “Teasing would suggest that I didn’t fully intend to give you what I was offering.”

Berry watched and waited for Big Mac’s reaction, while Big Mac stared back at her in defiant amusement. The stalemate was broken by Berry as she began to run her tongue against the roof of her mouth with loud, wet smacks.

“It’s not funny, dang it!” she shouted over the sound of Big Mac’s deep, throaty laughter. She quickly rinsed her mouth with another gulp of wine. “I don’t even like eggs when they’re cooked!”

Big Macintosh pulled himself up off the ground and wiped some of the dampness from his eyes. He’d very clearly overestimated the silly mare’s skills as a seductress.

“Amusin’ as this had been, ah’ve got some more chores to get to, if ya will excuse me,” he said.

Big Mac had only made it a few paces before Berry jumped in his path.

“Wait!” she said. “Um… where are you going?”

He cocked his head and hummed in thought. While she might have been off-putting at first, he was suddenly struck by the notion that having a little company might not be so bad.

“East field,” he said simply. “Gotta check the trees.”

“Can I come?” she asked hopefully.

“Reckon it’s a fair trot away,” he explained with a gentle smile. “Ya up for it?”

“Walking’s no problem!” she replied enthusiastically. “Gotta keep this thing toned, know what I’m saying?”

Big Mac began to walk away briskly as Berry turned to the side and stuck out her hip.

“Hey wait, get back here,” she shouted. “You were supposed to look at my butt!”

Berry caught up with him quickly and let him lead the way towards the field he was supposed to be inspecting. The mid-morning sunshine washed over them as they walked down the narrow path between the orchards. A cool wind blew through the trees, carrying the last lingering scent of spring’s apple blossoms.

Berry was surprisingly quiet for a good portion of their stroll. At first Big Mac thought she might just be enjoying the scenery and the quiet company, but a quick glance told him that she seemed nervous. She was fidgety, constantly readjusting the strap of her wine jug as it beat against her chest.

About halfway to their destination she finally broke her silence.

“So then…” Berry said, a note of apprehension tinting her voice. “Did it hurt…?”

Big Macintosh shot the mare another quick look without slowing down. He continued walking, seemingly paying no mind to the question.

“Did you hear me?” she asked. “I asked if it hurt.”

“Nope.”

She stopped walking, paused momentarily by confusion. “Nope you didn’t hear me or nope it didn’t hurt?”

“Eeyup.”

She growled in frustration and cantered up to his side. “You’re doing this all wrong. I ask if it hurt, and you’re supposed to be all like ‘did what hurt?’ and I ask ‘did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’”

“Eeyup.”

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“Eeyup.”

“This is because of the tail thing yesterday, isn’t it?”

“Eeyup.”

Berry quietly sighed, hanging her head as she walked.

Big Macintosh glanced out the corner of his eye. For a brief moment he thought that she might have been trying to toy with him again, but something in the way Berry moved seemed off. There had been a barely perceptible bounce in her step and a little light of something playful in her eyes, and both those things were gone now, or at least dimmed perceptibly.

“Does it really bother ya that badly that ah didn’t say what ya wanted…?” he asked softly, surprised that his attempt to give back a little grief had upset her this way.

She blushed lightly and turned her head away. “Yes and no… I mean I kind of lost my momentum here and I just don’t know how to talk to you now…”

“Meanin’?”

“Meaning flirting is the only way I know how to talk to guys, okay?” she admitted with a huff. “I get that it bothers you, and honestly that’s pretty fun to me, but it’s also frustrating if you’re not going to at least humor me. I can already tell that flirting with you is like rubbing up against a brick wall.”

“Why can’t ya just talk to me normal?” he asked skeptically. “Like how ya talk to other folk. Ya don’t flirt with my sister none.”

“Talking to a mare isn’t the same as talking to a stallion. Especially one that…” she said, trailing off. “Look, I’m just used to guys talking to me like that. I spend a lot of time in bars, so most of the guys I meet are drunk idiots full of liquid courage that are only really interested in getting in my goody bag. It’s literally the only downside to a life dedicated to the pursuit of inebriation…”

Big Macintosh stopped and gave a sigh of his own. “Berry, can we just have a seat for a sec?”

She nodded and sat under one of the nearby trees he pointed out. He plopped down next to her and leaned his head back, scratching at his chin in thought.

“Wanna lay our cards on the table here?” he offered.

“I… I guess…” she answered. She took a sip of wine and swished the jug around, nervously playing with the liquid swirling within.

“Ya ain’t never been one to visit,” he stated. “So y'all are hangin’ around because…?”

“Because I’m interested in you, duh,” she scoffed. “I mean… I think you’re cute. I have for a while. And I know you’re not seeing anypony, so I came over to hit on you and maybe see if you wanted to do it back a little; to see if you were interested.”

He cocked his head to the side. “If’n that’s so, then what’s the reason ya ain’t come sniffin’ around here before?”

“Well you’re always surrounded by other ponies. But then I heard that the rest of your family left on vacation, so I figured this was my shot.”

Big Macintosh readjusted his seating and tried very, very hard not to think about how much her explanation brought to mind the way a predator would target an animal separated from its herd.

“I just don’t really want anypony else all in my business,” she clarified. “It’s hard enough trying to meet somepony without other ponies looking over your shoulder.”

“Right then… Well ah think yer cute, too. And ya seem fun, so ah wouldn’t mind getting’ to know ya. But yer gunna have to cut back the silly flirtin’ stuff. I’m up for tryin’ to strike somethin’ up with ya long as ya try to be straight with me. We’re both a lil’ old for actin’ like horny, moonstruck kids.”

She lifted an eyebrow questioningly. “What, so we should behave like horny, moonstruck adults?”

“I was hopin’ for a touch less horniness and somethin’ more akin to maturity.”

“Mature adults?” she asked in mild disbelief.

“Eeyup.”

“No beating around the bush, or zany schemes, or romantic misunderstandings?”

“Nope.”

“Well that sounds boring,” she said with playful half-pout.

“Eeyup.”

“As long as we agree that it’s boring, I’m up for it,” she said, picking herself up and holding one of her hooves forward. “Shake on it? Starting tomorrow we act like adults.”

“Never started a relationship with a hoofshake before,” he said with a grin as he stood to return the gesture. “Tomorrow it is.”

He blinked, and in the span of time it took to open his eyes he found that he was no longer touching Berry’s hoof. She had spun around and backed up, pressing the firm flesh of her flank against the offered hoof.

“Haw-haw, idiot, you touched my butt!” she taunted in a childishly sing-song voice as she wiggled her rear, rubbing her Cutie Mark against his hoof.

For the second time in as many days, Berry Punch galloped away from the scene of the crime, giggling like a naughty filly a third her age. This time, Big Mac couldn’t help but add the bellowing guffaws of his own laughter.

***

Big Macintosh climbed the ladder leading up to the small grain storage, the handle of a bucket held tightly in his teeth. He reached the top and poured the ground corn meal in, then closed the door and held on to the sides of the ladder, quickly sliding the three meters back to the ground with a thump of his hooves striking the dirt.

Big Macintosh had awakened with an unusual abundance of energy, which he attributed to the high spirits that often accompanied a burgeoning romance. Being so thoroughly energized, he’d decided to be fairly ambitious with his chore for the day. While it had taken most of the day and caused him to skip lunch, he’d managed to grind all the dried corn they’d stored into cornmeal.

He knew it’d be a nice surprise for his sisters when they got back. AJ always hated having to climb the ladder to empty the buckets from his grinding wheel. And even though filling the grinder with dried corn was the easiest part of the job, Apple Bloom of course always felt the need to complain about how it was the most boring task on the farm.

What Big Mac was really looking forward to was Granny turning some of the meal into her apple cinnamon cornbread. It was one of the few recipes of hers that the rest of the family just couldn’t quite nail down, so Granny made a habit of only making it once or twice a year, just to keep them wanting more.

The thought of food set his stomach to grumbling.

“Sounds like you’ve got a big, big hunger there, Hoss.”

Big Mac smirked and closed his eyes as he took a deep, centering breath before he began what he was certain would be another tiring, but enjoyable, visit from his new suitor.

“Eeyup,” he admitted as he turned to face her. “What’cha got goin’ on today, Berry?”

“I thought I’d bring this over to you.” Berry Punch held up her wine gourd, which had a small bag tied to the strap. She shook the gourd, making the bits jingle mutely.

“For the cider, remember?” she explained. She flicked her head to the side, drawing his eyes to a pair of saddlebags on her back. “And I had thought about asking you out on a date, but I figured maybe I should make you something to eat at home instead. Home cooking seemed more your speed. Guess I had good timing, yeah?”

Big Macintosh blinked. “Ah didn’t even know ya could cook.”

“I can do a lot of things you don’t know about, Hoss,” Berry Punch declared with a small laugh. “Stick around and you might just find that a few of them are to your liking.”

“I just might do that,” he said wryly. “Thank ya kindly for bringin’ somethin’ over.”

Berry nodded and walked up to the small grain storage, smacking one of the support struts with a hoof. “What’s this you were doing?”

“Grindin’ up corn into meal,” he explained. “It’s like flour. Ya can use it to make bread and such.”

She chuckled and shot him a sultry grin. “So you like… grinding things, do you…?”

Big Macintosh stared for a few moments before he caught her meaning.

“Now Berry…” he started to chastise her. The gleam in his eyes took some of the bite out of his tone.

“I know, I know, but ya gotta let me get a few in, please?” she begged. She sat down and held her hooves together under her chin while she fluttered her eyes cutely. “It helps me relax.”

“Fine,” he conceded. He turned away and tried not to let her cuteness sway him any further. “But not too much.”

The moment was disturbed by the sudden gurgle of Big Mac’s stomach reasserting its displeasure.

“Well it looks like your stomach is inviting me in, even if you so rudely haven’t yet,” she said as she walked past him towards the house.

Big Macintosh followed the mare closely. Three days in a row she’d come to visit and each day so far he’d felt like she’d swept the legs right out from under him. This mare, despite her odd ways, was exciting and playful in a way most other mares weren’t. He’d never been a particularly bold stallion when it came to romance, and her forwardness had been something of a turn off for him at first, but Berry’s self-assurance and laidback attitude were already growing on him.

The only worrying thing for him was her fondness for that wine jug of hers, but even that wasn’t a deal breaker. Despite her impressive consumption rate, he’d never so much as heard of her being out of control the way most ponies got when they drank too much. Besides, like most families, the Apples had their share of ponies that enjoyed a nip of the old creature. In fact, his Grandaddy had been a legendary moonshiner in his youth before he’d finally settled down with Granny Smith. Even his little sister’s name, Applejack, was a living testament to the old stallion’s love of homemade apple brandy.

The sound of Berry clearing her throat snapped him back to attention. She had stopped next to the kitchen door and was staring at him expectantly. Big Macintosh pulled the door open and held it, allowing her entrance.

“What a gentlestallion,” she sniggered.

He rolled his eyes and stepped into the house behind her.

“Go wash up them dirty hooves, Hoss,” she ordered while she set down her bags and deposited the bag of bits she was carrying on the counter by the sink. She uncorked her gourd, letting the stopper dangle from a string tied to the neck, and took a long pull from it. She gulped loudly and smacked her lips in satisfaction. “I’ll have this set up in a minute.”

Macintosh obeyed dutifully and headed for the washroom. He pulled off his yoke and set it against the wall in the hallway, making note to give it a good scrub down later to get all the dust off from his day of toiling at the grinding wheel. He checked his reflection in the mirror and sighed. His entire body was covered in the same fine powder as his favorite accessory, meaning he would definitely need a bath after dinner.

It was yet another of his plans to enjoy his two weeks of solitude, to see just how long he could go without having a bath. It was childish, and disgusting, but it was one of those things that colts did that he had never tried, growing up in a house with three mares as he did.

His coltish ambition now foregone, he wet a small towel and went about cleaning himself enough to be presentable for company. A few minutes of vigorous scrubbing later, he looked – and more importantly, smelled – halfway civilized once again. He tilted his head at his reflection, wondering if he should run a comb through his messy mane, seeing as he had a lady caller over.

He snorted in amusement and walked away without bothering with the comb. Berry Punch didn’t seem like the kind of girl who cared one way or another how his mane was styled.

Big Macintosh walked back to the kitchen to check on how Berry was doing. He had been expecting a few sandwiches and maybe a bag of chips, but it seemed that Berry Punch hadn’t been exaggerating when she said she knew how to cook. There were two very large covered dishes sitting on the table, and a small basket sat to the side with a checkered napkin draped atop it. He couldn’t tell what she’d brought, but he could tell that it all smelled delicious.

“Hey, look,” Berry said with a whistle when the stallion entered the room. “There was a big handsome stallion under all that crud.”

“Um, thank ya…” Big Mac said sheepishly. “What’s all this?”

“Spinach casserole, biscuits, and buttered asparagus,” she said as uncovered each dish. “And for dessert I put a surprise in the fridge.”

“Not quite sure what to say…”

Berry’s smile fell away. “You don’t like it? I could look and see if you have something else I could make.”

“It ain’t that,” he said quickly. “Ah’m just really impressed. This is pretty amazin’.”

Berry tittered dreamily and tugged at her mane mindlessly at the compliment. She froze as she realized her own behavior.

“Ah yeah, well, glad you like it, Hoss,” she said, sniffing loudly in a vain attempt to rein in her spasm of girlishness. “Let’s uh, tuck into these vittles, bro. Um. Yeah. I’m like, totally starving.”

Big Mac took a seat and Berry went around to his side of the table. She sat in the chair next to him and scooted it closer, the chair legs thumping and scraping against the wooden floor. She shot him a smile and started serving the meal. Big Macintosh reached for his own plate to try and serve himself, only to have his hoof slapped away.

“So how’s the moonshinin’ business?” Big Mac asked. He rubbed at the tender spot where he’d been hit, surprised at how badly it stung. It brought back memories of being a colt, trying to swipe biscuits from Granny’s counter and getting a good smack from her mixing spoon for his efforts.

“It’s good,” she said. “I’m waiting for next wine season so I can get back to it. Stupid grapes only ripen in autumn, so I only actually work like two months out of the year. I’ve been relaxing and handling orders as they come for the last few months.”

“You get that much time off?” he asked in surprise.

“Hey, I work like a dog for those few weeks to get my supply up while the grapes are in season,” Berry explained. “Then I just have to let it ferment, bottle it, and keep it in storage until I get a buyer.”

“Doesn’t that get boring?” he asked, unable to comprehend what it would be like to have so much free time.

“Nah, I have my hobbies and… other things to keep me busy,” she said with a wave of her hoof. “And it may not be hard physical labor, but I still have to spend the rest of the year handling sale negotiations with those stuffy Canterlot types, on top of arranging things with my grape suppliers for the next year’s harvest. There’s always somepony trying to get one over on me just because I’m a small-town independent business owner... Anyway, I used to do all that, plus marketing for my label. Thank Celestia I’ve got a big enough name now that I don’t have to deal with that so much anymore.”

“Wow…” he said, genuinely impressed that she handled so much on her own. He knew from experience just how difficult it was to run a business, and that was with help from his family.

She slid a plate with large portions of each of her dishes and he leaned in to take a whiff of the meal. It smelled so good that he immediately decided to forget about the fork Berry had set out for him. He opened his mouth and took a huge bite of the buttered asparagus, moaning rapturously as he chewed.

“Wow…”

“You keep saying that,” Berry pointed out.

“You keep wowin’ me,” retorted with a mouth full of his dinner.

There were a lot of things in life that Big Macintosh admired: loyalty, hard work, dedication to family, and knowing when silence said more than words. But he could forgive lacking any combination of those qualities in a pony who knew her way around the kitchen.

Big Macintosh polished off his plate in short order, then a second, and a third. Thankfully Berry knew when to let a stallion eat without a lot of unnecessary jaw flapping.

“Should I be getting jealous here?”

Big Mac looked up from his plate and wiped a little splotch of casserole off the end of his nose. “What…?” he asked dumbly as he licked the casserole off his hoof.

Berry Punch was leaning against the table, her head resting on an upturned hoof as she stared at him. “Well we’re only on our first date-ish meal here and you’re already cheating on me with my own cooking. If you lick that plate any harder it’s going to start moaning your name.”

“…sorry…?”

“Don’t worry about it, Hoss,” she assured him with a toothy smile. “I like a stallion that knows how to eat. Now are you ready for what I got in the fridge?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but his affirmation died in his throat as something in his stomach shifted and his gorging caught up to him. He bent forward, clutching his gut as a terrible pressure built in his abdomen.

“Ugh, ah surely would, Berry,” he answered with a belch. “But ah think my eyes were a touch bigger’n my stomach.”

“Are you sure? It’s a strawberry-chocolate pie.”

Big Mac’s ears perked at this news. He'd never heard of such a thing, but it sounded wonderful to his secret sweet tooth. He held his stomach and moaned half-lustfully and half-painfully. “Yer evil.”

She responded by raising her jug coolly and having a drink.

“I had hoped that we could hang out a little after dinner, but if you’ve gorged yourself sick then I think maybe my work here is done,” she said gleefully. She stood and made a show of looking into each of the empty dishes. “I’d leave you some leftovers, but you kind of cleaned me out.”

She packed her things up quickly and tossed her bags onto her back.

“I’ll leave you the pie so you can eat it later, if your stomach doesn’t explode, that is,” Berry teased. She leaned over and gave him a swift peck on the cheek. “And do your dishes. The sink smells like a dumpster.”

Big Mac let his head fall to the table with a rattle of plates, glasses, and untouched flatware. The sound of the kitchen door slamming signaled that he was alone, so he allowed himself the indignity of a tortured groan.

He turned his head and stared at the fridge as though he was locking eyes with a predator watching him with a hungry, cruelly calculating gaze.

“Ah’m gunna regret this…” he moaned as he got up and went to the fridge to get a good look at this pie of Berry’s.

Just one little look wouldn’t hurt…

***

Big Macintosh walked the long stretch of road from Ponyville back to Sweet Apple Acres, the rattle of the empty cart’s wheels as they rolled along the bumpy dirt road thrumming along every step of the way. It was good background music: a steady, rhythmic hum of travel.

He made this trip often, usually at least once a week, fulfilling orders made by the various businesses that had call for a good bushel of apples. He’d made large deliveries to Sugar Cube Corner, the hospital cafeteria, and a few small cafes and restaurants. The combined size of the orders had necessitated he bring one of their older, larger carts. The arms were spaced wide enough to hitch both himself and AJ up in case they needed to pull something extra heavy, but today it was just him, giving him lots of extra room so the arms didn’t chafe against his sides.

He hummed quietly, enjoying the music of the rickety old wagon as he moseyed along. Usually the sound would be drowned out by Apple Bloom sitting in the cart, flapping her gums away about her latest exploits with her friends. More often than not, the other two fillies that made up their little group of ex-Crusaders would be sitting right next to her, adding to the din of girlish chatter.

Or AJ would be cantering along next to him, trying to get him to talk about the week’s expenditures or what jobs still needed tending to once they got back home.

Or Granny would be complaining long and loud about the price of onions, having taken the chance to hitch a free ride to the market to do some shopping. She was forever complaining about the price of onions, and about how when she was a filly, they didn’t have the little white onions, just those big yellow ones.

“Used ter be ya could git twenny onions fer a Bumble Bee,” she’d crow before further explaining how bits used to be called Bumble Bees, because they had pictures of bees on them.

Sometimes he worried about Granny.

He grunted, locking his back legs as something heavy dropped onto his haunches, nearly dropping him to the ground with its suddenness. He looked back in annoyance and found Berry Punch sitting upright atop his back, her legs swinging playfully against his sides.

“Berry, what all are ya doin’, mare?” he grumbled questioningly.

“I was on my way to visit when I saw little old Red Riding Hoss on his way to Granny’s house, so thought I’d see if he’s got some goodies for me,” she said, licking her lips wolfishly.

Big Macintosh snorted in amusement, his anger quickly forgotten.

“How do ya keep sneakin’ up on me anyway?” he asked.

She leaned forward, resting an elbow on his back and closing the distance until their noses were nearly touching.

“I know kung fu,” she said with a wink and a flash of her wine stained tongue.

“Alright then,” he laughed. “Guess that explains that.”

“Sure does,” she said. She brought up one of her back legs and kicked him lightly on his Cutie Mark, adding a little squeeze of her thighs for emphasis. “Now giddyup, Hoss. You let me ride you back to the house and I’ll let you ride me when we get there.”

He continued on, laughing at her bad joke. She was surprisingly light, despite her nearly knocking him to the ground by suddenly jumping on him. He was also rather enjoying the way she bounced along as he walked; the feel of her soft, yet firm, muscular… well, suffice it to say, and he wouldn’t admit it out loud, he didn’t exactly have complaints about carrying her.

“You were looking a little down there when I found you, Hoss,” she commented. “Anything you want to talk about?”

“I wasn’t down,” he said with confused glance at the mare. “I was hummin’ a tune. That’s hardly depressed behavior.”

“Yeah but you weren’t humming with your eyes,” Berry said poignantly as she had a drink. “What were you thinking about?”

Big Mac frowned at her assessment. “My family.”

“You miss them, huh…?” she asked softly.

“It ain’t even been a week,” he huffed. “Ah’m doin’ fine. Havin’ fun, even.”

“Sure thing, Hoss,” she said.

He looked over his shoulder and sighed. “So what about yer kin?”

“Hm?”

“Yer family,” he clarified. “Ya know my family a bit, but ah don’t know nothin’ about yer’s.”

She pulled up her legs and flipped onto her side atop his back, somehow balancing herself perfectly as he moved beneath her. She rested her head against the back of his like a pillow and wiggled a little to move her shoulder into a position where the yoke and hitch weren’t jabbing her.

“What’d you want to know…?” she asked, lowering her voice so she wouldn’t be yelling into his ear.

“Well, do ya have any?” he pressed, unsure exactly how much clearer he could be. “Tell me about yer folks.”

“…don’t have any, they died when I was a filly,” she said with a sigh. “My grandpa raised me…”

Big Macintosh pulled up short, his breath catching in his chest at her words.

She lowered a leg and gave him another gentle prod on the flank. “Giddyup,” she whispered, urging him on.

He continued forward, slowly, walking with lighter steps and a heavier heart. He remained quiet, allowing her to gather her courage to press onward or – if she chose to – to change the topic altogether.

After a few moments she cleared her throat and began again.

“My family’s not originally from Equestria, you know,” she explained. “I was born in Manechuria. Back in the old country, my family has been making wine for generations. When old Gramps Cracky Clam took me in he raised me the best he could. Taught me everything I know about… about everything, really. He’s who taught me how to make wine. Showed me all the old family traditions, ya know?”

She pulled the jug closer to her chest, taking a shallow sip more for the comfort of the familiar act than to actually slake her thirst.

“When I got old enough to strike out on my own, he said I should move to Ponyville. His other son, my uncle, moved here when he was younger to be with his wife, and Gramps said I needed to be with the rest of the family. He wanted me to get to know my cousins. Because… because family’s important…

“And it was great at first. We didn’t have a lot in common, but Cherry Berry was my age so we hung out a lot and she helped me make a few friends. And my little cousin Piña Colada, she used to follow me around everywhere. I was more like a big sister to her than a cousin… Sometimes I think that I might’ve been a better sister to her than her actual sister.”

“Y’all used to enter the Sisterhooves Social together, didn’t ya?” he asked. His family had been running the event yearly for decades, and Big Mac could remember seeing Berry Punch entering every year for a few years with a younger filly.

“Yeah,” she said with a chuckle. “We even won it once! Helped a lot that the events that year included grape stomping... Anyway, about a year after I moved to Ponyville, Gramps died. My aunt and uncle moved back to take over the family business. Sadly, my uncle’s wine is dishwater, so that didn’t pan out. Last I heard he was turning the family winery into some kind of stupid bed and breakfast.”

She sat back up growled the words ‘bed and breakfast’ before swigging from her gourd angrily.

“Ten generations of brewmasters on that land, and it dies with him,” she muttered.

“Why didn’t ya take it over for ‘em?” he asked curiously.

“I offered, but he and I didn’t ever really get along, so his damned stupid pride got in the way.” She sighed. “It worked out in the end though, since Cherry and Piña didn’t want to move to Manechuria. They moved in with me for a few years and we got to be like real sisters. When I decided to open up my own business here in Equestria, I wanted Cherry Berry to work it with me, since her cherry wine is absolutely amazing, but that plan never got off the ground. That stupid girl has spent her entire life fighting her own Cutie Mark, trying to be a garbage collector, a stand up comedian, farmer… I’ll never understand it. Now she’s just a housewife, married to some banker in Salt Lick City.”

Big Mac chewed his lip thoughtfully and asked: “What about Piña Colada, she couldn’t work it with ya?”

“She’s got a little bit of talent, sure,” she explained with a wistful grin, “but brewing isn’t her calling. She’s in the tropics learning the ‘art of hotel management’.”

She made air quotes and chuckled softly. “I give her grief about it, but she enjoys it, and unlike her sister she’s not fighting against her own talent, so I can’t be upset. I’d have moved down with her, but quality grapes don’t grow too well in that climate, and the ones that are heat resistant enough for it suck for wine. Besides, I kind of had all my money tied up in the Ponyville venture already, so selling out would’ve lost me a bundle.”

She began to absentmindedly play with his mane, tugging at it and parting it, trying to make it look silly.

“You might not miss them now, and you might be enjoying yourself with them gone, but don’t forget how important family is,” she lectured sadly. “Take it from somepony whose family isn’t that close, Big Macintosh: nothing’s more important than family.”

Big Mac let her words sink in, thinking to himself that this had been the second day in a row that she’d given him something to chew on. He carried her on his back the rest of the way to the house without another word, enjoying the feel of her weight atop him and listening to the rattle of the wagon wheels beating out the steady, rhythmic hum of travel.

***

Big Macintosh liked trains. They were hard workers. You put them on the tracks pointing in the direction you want to go, and they’ll take you there as long as you keep them fueled. They could pull most any load, and if you did hook up a load too big for one train, all you had to do was add another engine.

Big Macintosh always felt a rugged kinship with trains – a bond of mutual respect for hard work, team work, and reliability.

“You’re thinking about what it’d be like to be a train, aren’t you?”

His eyes snapped open and he gaped in shock at the mare sitting on the bench across from him. He quickly composed himself and gave his best poker face.

“…nope…” he muttered with forced coolness.

She gave him an exaggerated wink. “I guess I’m starting to get into your head.”

Big Mac scratched at his temple nervously and emptied his mind of thought. Just in case.

“I have to say, Hoss,” Berry said. “I don’t know what kind of date you have in mind that requires us to take an overnight train ride, but I’m kind of excited to see what it might be.”

“Ah think it’s somethin’ ya'll like,” he said with a cryptic smile.

“You’re not taking me to get a quickie wedding in Las Pegasus, are you?” she asked playfully. “I would’ve at least liked to have picked up a dress first.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Ah do know the best seamstress in Equestria. How do ya know ah didn’t already get one for ya?”

Berry spit the wine in her mouth back into the jug at her lips. She stared at the stallion for a few long seconds before erupting in laughter.

“I didn’t think you had that in you, Hoss!” she chirped with laughter. “I guess you’ve got a little piece of me in you now.”

“Eeyup, which is ironic considerin’ how hard ye've been tryin’ to get a little piece me in ya,” he quipped roguishly.

Berry Punch doubled over, falling to the floor of the train car and holding her gut as she spasmed with laughter. The sight of her in the throes of a giggle fit drove Big Mac to join her, his own bellowing bark mingling musically with the uncharacteristically high pitched chirp that her laugh became when it was unrestrained. The sound of one another’s laughter only drove them further into hysterics. Luckily they were alone in their train car.

“Yer laugh is so weird!” Big Macintosh howled.

“You’re one to talk!” she countered breathlessly. “You sound like a rutting timberwolf!”

A third voice interrupted them with a loud, yet politely amused, cough. They settled their laughter into embarrassed tittering and climbed back onto their seats.

“Sorry to interrupt you nice folks,” the train conductor said, “just going down the line and telling everypony that we’re going to be delayed a bit in reaching our destination.”

Big Mac blinked and whisked away the moisture gathering at the corners of his eyes. He looked out the window and hummed.

“How long a delay?” he asked as he noted that Celestia’s sun was beginning its final descent towards the desert mesas dotting the horizon.

“Just a couple of hours,” the conductor assured him. “There was a bit of a heat spell today and our pegasus line-spotter just reported that there was some warping in the track ahead. We’re going to be changing lines and diverting to Holsteinbrook for a two hour layover while it gets repaired. You’ll be free to explore the town during the stop, just be sure to listen for the train whistle; that’s the fifteen minute warning that the train is getting ready to depart.”

The conductor tipped his hat and moved to the next car searching for more passengers.

“Ever been to this place we’re stopping at?” Berry asked.

“Nope,” Big Mac replied. “Reckon it sounds like an old cowpony town, though. Ah’m sure we can find somethin’ fun to do.”

***

Big Mac’s guess had been correct. The town of Holsteinbrook, according to an informational placard at the train station, had been founded a few decades back by a family of sheep ranchers. The town, which had boomed as other families moved in to take advantage of the vast pastures of wild grass that grew along the banks of a nearby river, was now considered one of Equestria’s largest producers of wool.

Big Macintosh and Berry trotted down the main street plaza, taking in the sight of the old dusty wooden storefronts. True to its nature as a town of ranch-types, the streets were mostly empty by nighttime. Most ponies were back at home, sitting for supper or getting rested up for the next day’s labor.

“Hey look!” Berry suddenly exclaimed as she pointed to a building down the road. “It’s an actual old timey Western saloon!”

Big Mac hurried to catch up with her as she galloped up to the town’s watering hole. She stared up at it in wide-eyed wonder, with romantic notions from Western novels dancing in her mind. The boisterous sounds of laughter and arguing could be heard from within, just barely drowning out the music of the shockingly well tuned piano playing in the background.

“Let’s go wet our whistles,” she suggested gleefully, looking to Big Mac with excited, hopeful eyes.

“Ah dunno, Berry…” he said cautiously as he eyed the building with more realistic eyes. It was dingy and dirty, and the windows, walls, and swinging doors all showed signs of having been recently repaired. His mind was screaming at him that this was probably a fairly tough establishment, and he didn’t want to risk anything happening to his new lady friend.

“Don’t be such a pill,” she chastised. “If I know anything, it’s bars. And this one looks awesome. I can already tell we’re going to have a great time in there.”

She trotted in confidently, Big Mac in tow.

The saloon was fairly large, and unlike the streets, packed to the rafters with ponies. It was mostly dusty, hard drinking stallions, but a few waitresses wove between the tables serving drinks and skillfully avoiding wandering hooves. The scent of sweat, dirt, testosterone, and liquor filled the air with a terrible stink.

In the corner at the back of the room Big Mac found the small piano belting out a fast paced ragtime beat. The old gray stallion playing it pounded at the keys with gentle fervor, but wasn’t reading any sheet music or looking at the keys; he just swayed from side to side, a pair of dark sunglasses covering his eyes. Big Mac got the impression that the old pianist might be blind.

Berry pointed to a couple of stools that had just opened up at the far end of the bar. She went over quickly to claim their seats and Big Mac followed. She was much smaller and vastly more agile than he was, but most ponies knew to get out of the way of a stallion as big as he was, so he wasn’t too far behind her.

They sat and she waved down the barmaid, a middle aged earthpony mare with a golden coat and a few extra pounds that gave her a soft, matronly look. Her seafoam green mane was piled high on her head in a dignified bouffant.

“What can ah git y'all, honeychild?” she asked happily.

Berry rubbed her chin as though she were in deep thought before exclaiming loudly: “Booze!”

“Any specific kind y’all might be wantin’?” the older mare asked playfully.

“Strong booze,” came the answer. Berry nodded confidently, sure that she had made a wise decision.

The mare smiled and pulled an old, chipped moonshine jug from under the bar. The jug had five large X’s stenciled on the front and pulling the cork out released a puff of smoke. Big Mac watched with trepidation as the barmaid poured their drinks. Despite his uncertainty, a smile and an eager nod from Berry had him reaching into the little hollow groove in the neckline of his yoke where he kept his bits.

“Kanpai!” she shouted as she tilted the glass to her lips and swallowed.

“How is it?” Big Mac asked quickly, throwing a nervous glance back towards the piano player.

Berry held her hoof in front of her face and waved it back and forth.

“Not blind!” she declared and she lifted the glass again. “Good to go!”

Big Mac screwed up his courage and lifted the glass to take a drink of liquid fire. The dark brown potion slid down his throat and into his stomach, burning him the whole way down before going about its dark work of liquefying his innards like spider venom.

“Smooth,” he croaked with his shriveled, worthless vocal chords.

Berry laughed at her lightweight coltfriend and took another mouthful of her own glass just to rub it in his face.

They sat huddled together, talking and just enjoying the rowdy scenery. A few drinks into their talk they were suddenly interrupted by a burly stallion with an unkempt, patchy beard. The stink of his night’s indulgence overpowered the general smell of alcohol the way the cacophony of drunks drowned out the piano.

“Hey there, beautiful,” he slurred lustfully. “What all are you doing with a dude like that? Don’t you know he’s an Apple? You can tell by that Cutie Mark of his. Ain’t no real cowpony ever came out of that family.”

“Oh, I think he’s cowpony enough for me,” she said with a smirk, not meeting the drunk’s gaze.

Beside her Big Macintosh was already tensing up, ready to teach the jerk a lesson about hitting on his mare and insulting his family. He looked down as he felt Berry’s hoof reach for his arm and stroke him soothingly. He took the hint and let her handle the situation, but stayed ready, just in case.

“Say, sexy lady,” the drunk belched. He leaned closer and licked his lips. “Are you a thief?”

“Why no, I’m not,” she answered coyly. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you’re stealing my breath away,” he told her. He guffawed rudely, spraying her face with spittle. He reached down and grabbed a hoofful of her flank.

“That’s a good one, haven’t heard it in a while,” she giggled cutely. She pressed down a little on Big Mac’s arm as she felt him try to stand. “Now I’ve got a question for you: did it hurt?”

The drunken stallion flashed a yellow grin and squeezed her butt a little rougher. “Did what hurt, honey?”

In the blink of an eye Berry’s hoof shot down to where the stallion was groping her. She pushed his arm away, hooked her own arm around it, and placed her hoof against the back of his head. She pushed down, slamming his muzzle into the bar. The stallion dropped to the ground, clutching his face and howling as blood trickled freely from his snout.

“Did it hurt when I broke your nose?” she finished with a laugh.

The entire bar went silent except for the sound of the piano continuing to pound out an energetic ragtime. Every stallion in the bar stared and tensed up, looking around and grinning as though they had been waiting for that to happen. The waitresses all retreated to the safety of a back room without a word, locking themselves in while the barmaid began to quickly secure her inventory beneath the bar.

The tension in the saloon became palpable as every argument of the night, every old blood feud, every stolen childhood sweetheart came back to the minds of the drunken stallions present.

Berry slid off her barstool and stood on her hind legs facing the crowded barroom. She pulled the cork from her drinking gourd and drank deeply from it, some of the wine dribbling down her chin messily. Her posture slumped, relaxing as she began to sway uneasily as though she were about to fall at any second.

“Berry…?” Big Macintosh whispered.

“Did you think I was kidding when I said I knew kung fu?” she slurred mischievously over her shoulder at her stunned paramour. “Didn’t I tell you that my Gramps passed down the family traditions?”

She reached up, tapping her chin slowly. “I guess maybe I forgot to mention that one of those traditions was Drunken Hoof kung fu?”

A glass rolled off a table somewhere in the middle of the room and shattered on the ground.

***

The train whistle blew loudly for the second time, heralding the train’s departure as it pulled out of the station. Big Mac and Berry Punch ran into their train car, giggling breathlessly as they found their seats. They had almost missed the train’s departure whistle, and it had taken them a few minutes longer to extricate themselves from the donnybrook that the saloon had devolved into.

Berry climbed up on her seat, laughing giddily and gasping for breath.

Without warning, Big Mac pushed her down and began to kiss her passionately. Berry gasped into his mouth but allowed him to do as he wished. He ran his hooves up and down her sides, caressing her roughly and yanking at her mane to expose her neck for a quick nip.

He went in for another kiss and she bit his lip. He moaned and pulled back in response to the hoof she was pressing against his chest, taking the silent hint that she wanted a breather.

“Most stallions are turned off when they find out I can kick their flanks in,” she panted as she ran a hoof gently along the side of his face, carefully avoiding the dark circle of his freshly won black eye.

“Ah ain’t most stallions,” he panted back. “Ah like me a rough and tumble gal. Ain’t many mares out there strong enough that ah don’t gotta worry about hurtin’ ‘em.”

“That was really hot the way you bucked that guy through the window,” she told him.

“Well ah never knew ya were so flexible,” he admitted. “Ah ain’t never seen nothin’ like the way ya can move.”

“That was nothing, let me show you my real moves,” she whispered as she pulled him down for another kiss. She slipped her leg out from under him and wrapped it around his back, pulling his body closer to her.

The air filled with a horrible screech as the world flipped itself around. They went tumbling to the ground, a grunting, cursing mass of limbs. It took a few attempts but they finally managed to untangle themselves as the train released the emergency brakes and began chugging along again.

They stared at one another, each wondering if they would be able to recapture the moment they’d just lost.

“Well, so much for downplaying the horniness in this relationship, huh?” Berry chortled sadly. “Maybe I’ll take that as a sign and head back to the sleeping car – get some rest.”

She started to walk away but paused. She pawed at the carpet nervously, suddenly unsure of her decision.

“You want to come with me…?” she asked, offering him one last chance to try and lose themselves to their passions.

He chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully, the little pony on his shoulder urging him to say buck it and follow her back. In the end, the memory of Berry telling him that good cider took time won out.

He shook his head resolutely and took a seat next to the window.

“If it’s all the same, think ah’ll just sit here a spell longer, think about some things.”

She smiled understandingly. “Good night, Hoss.”

“Good night, Berry Punch.”

Berry left, leaving him alone with his thoughts as the desert landscape rolled by quickly. A few minutes later the conductor entered the car. He raised an eyebrow at the new shiner Big Mac was sporting, and at the fact that his lady companion was nowhere to be seen, but kept a professional silence.

“Sorry about pulling the brake on you, friend,” he apologized sincerely. “The driver spilled his coffee and slipped on it; took his hoof off the Deadpony’s Switch. It automatically kicked on the train’s emergency brakes.”

“No harm done,” Big Mac assured him stoically. “We ain’t in no hurry.”

He looked back out the window and pressed his forehead against the cool glass.

“We’ll get there when we get there…”

***

“Hoss, what is this?” Berry asked as she stared up at the enormous banner that spanned from one end of the Appleloosa thoroughfare to the other.

The banner spelled out in huge, bold letters:

WELCOME TO THE APPLE FAMILY REUNION

“Just what the sign says, Berry,” he answered with a toothy grin.

“Why did you bring me here…?” she asked, staring at him in wonder.

“Talkin’ about yer family seemed to tear ya up inside,” he told her. “Ah didn’t like seein’ ya so upset… So ah figured if’n ya couldn’t spend time with yer kin, maybe ya’d like to spend some with mine.”

He leaned down and nuzzled her affectionately.

“And ya also might’ve been just a touch right about me missin’ my family…” he added quietly.

“Big Macintosh!”

He stood straight, going rigid at the sound of the familiar, and angry, voice.

‘What the hay are ya doin’ here?” Applejack asked in annoyance. “Who all is keepin’ the watch at the farm?”

Big Mac remembered his marefriend was watching and found his courage again.

“Ah ain’t dumb, AJ,” he huffed defiantly. “Ah already made arrangements.”

Applejack narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“Fluttershy takin’ care of the chickens?”

“Eeyup.”

“Weather team schedulin’ a couple’a fly overs?”

“Eeyup.”

“Spike stoppin’ by with Lyra tah check up on the house?”

“Eeeeeeyup.”

She nodded in satisfaction.

“Alright, I reckon we might be okay a couple days then,” she admitted.

“Hi, Applejack!” Berry shouted suddenly, cracking under the awkward pressure of standing next to the two siblings without being acknowledged.

Applejack blinked, staring at Berry as though she hadn’t even noticed her until she’d spoken up.

“Berry, what’re ya doin’ here?” she asked.

Big Mac sidled up to his marefriend and pressed himself against her side. “Ah brought her.”

Applejack’s eyes went wide as she glanced back and forth between her brother and neighbor. She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by another familiar voice.

“Omigawsh! Cousin Big Mac! What’re you doing here!?”

Big Macintosh smiled as Pinkie Pie ran up to them with a smile of her own, ten fold the strength of his.

“Howdy, Cousin Pinkie,” he greeted. “Ah just couldn’t stay away. And ah wanted to bring Berry Punch here to see the reunion as a surprise.”

Pinkie gasped dramatically.

“Oh! My! Gosh!” she exclaimed. “Are the two of you…?”

Pinkie finished her question by miming something that included – but was not limited to – bumping her hooves together repeatedly, wiggling her rear in the air, standing on her head, and making a duck call. It was very confusing, but they got the gist that she might have been describing some sort of complex sex act.

From the strength of Berry’s blush, Big Mac got the impression that she might have understood exactly what Pinkie had been miming out.

“Ah don’t think we’re quite at that point yet,” Big Mac admitted pointedly. “Whatever… whatever point it is that ya just described, that is.”

“That’s cool,” Pinkie said with a giggle. “Come on, Berry, I gotta show you the apple bobbing tub! I get the feeling you’re going to need the practice!”

Berry’s face nearly caught fire from the heat rushing to her cheeks, but she allowed Pinkie to drag her away.

“How long has this been goin’ on?” Applejack asked carefully.

“Just this week,” Big Mac told her.

“So we leave ya alone fer a week and ya hook up with the town’s…”

Big Mac glared at her, daring her to finish that thought.

“…brewmaster?” she finished quickly.

“She ain’t like how ya think,” Big Mac explained. “Just give her a chance. Please?”

Applejack sighed and fidgeted with her hat worriedly.

“Alright…” she muttered. “Ah’ll keep mah peace. But yer already bringin' her to family functions. Don’t ya think yer movin’ a lil’ fast?”

In the distance, Big Mac could see Berry Punch with her head dunked into a tub of water, frantically bobbing around in search of an apple. She finally pulled her head free, her big red prize held tightly in her teeth. All around her his family members were stomping their hooves and cheering her on, Pinkie Pie loudest of all.

Berry looked back at him, spit out the apple, and smiled through the curtain of wet mane plastered against her face.

He looked down into his sister’s worried eyes and answered her question with a silent grin.

Author's Note

Wow this one was a toughie, but I'm really happy with how it came out. If you're at all interested in the little backstory to how I ended up writing this, check out the blogpost I'm going to be making titled "All This Romance Juice, It's Everywhere!"

Thanks for reading this far, and I hope you enjoyed the tale of Big Macintosh and Berry Punch. I hope you'll all join me next time for the next silly pony thing I write.