Applejack popped the kink in her neck, hitched herself into the cart full of baskets, and headed out for the west orchard. With a heavy breakfast sitting on her belly and the sun beating down on her shoulders, she looked down the barrel at the long, difficult, and satisfying day ahead of her, and grinned.
Early season harvesting ran like clockwork for her. Unhitch the cart at one end of a row, line baskets up to the other, then work her way back tree by tree, row by row, until the baskets were brimming and the grove was ready for a splash of evening rain. The next day she’d harvest the last section of trees to the west, and the day after the second round of apples would be ripe in the east orchard. She unhitched the cart.
A snore sawed its way through her thoughts from overhead. Her smile faltered as she looked up and saw Rainbow Dash’s tail hanging out of the first tree in her row. Maybe the day wasn’t going to be as smooth as she hoped.
“Rainbow Dash,” she called while unloading the baskets. “You picked a bad spot for nappin’. Might wanna move before I knock you on your flank.”
Rainbow grumbled and rolled over on her branch. “Maybe you picked a bad spot for appling. Ever think of that?”
“How silly’a me.” She marched down the row, tossing baskets under each tree. “Too late now. Get a move on, lazyfeathers.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Rainbow groaned and rustled the tree as she rolled, knocking an apple into the basket. “Anypony ever tell you you’re a slave driver?”
“Just you, sugarcube.”
Rainbow fell from the tree and caught herself in a hover a foot off the ground. She rubbed her face with a hoof, then crossed her forelegs over her chest. “Well, you should listen to me.”
Applejack bucked the first tree in the line, then smirked as apples fell. She moved to the next tree. “Can’t help doin’ that. Ain’t a pony alive who's figured out how to tune you out, Rainbow Dash.”
“You,” Rainbow said, pointing an accusatory hoof, “are super lame.” She ran the hoof through her mane, then scanned the sky before zipping off towards a small puff of cloud. She flopped down on it and flapped her wings to carry it down towards the ground. “How’d you get so lame?”
Applejack knocked the apples free from the last tree and trotted back up the row with her chest puffed out. Rainbow had failed to slow her down. “I ain’t gonna treat that like a real question.” She snagged the handle for the first basket in her teeth and hauled it onto her back.
“You were probably born at least a little lame,” Rainbow mused, snuggling into the cloud. “And then you got bitten by a magical loser spider. Then got struck by boring lightning.”
“Now you’re just blatherin’ nonsense.”
Rainbow opened an eye and stuck her snout over the edge of the cloud, giving Applejack a sly look. “You probably just need somepony to plow your fields, if you know what I mean.”
Applejack poured apples into the cart and tossed the empty baskets on top of the pile. She knit her brows together. “Don’t know why you’d reckon. I can do all the plowin’ myself. And if not, I could always get my brother’s help.” Rainbow snorted. Applejack glanced up and saw Rainbow had clapped hooves over her mouth. “O-oh.” Applejack pulled her hat down over her face. “Consarnit.”
Rainbow howled and flopped over onto her back. “Oh my gosh, that was amazing.”
“I live on a farm,” Applejack snapped, gathering up the next batch of baskets. “Don’t use double-meanin’s that have to do with farming.”
“Why the heck would I do that?! Oh, gosh, ‘get your brother’s help,’ priceless!”
“Next time, I’m just buckin’ you outta the tree.”
“Worth it!”
Applejack sighed and finished up work on the first row, then gathered up the baskets to set up the second. “Don’t you got somethin’ better to do, Dash? Like take a nap or, Celestia forbid, work?”
“I’ll have you know I was working before you even got up.” She steered the cloud over the row Applejack had moved to. “Everypony this side of Ponyville needs rain for stuff in the summer.”
“Hrmph.” Applejack paused before bucking. “Guess it ain’t fair callin’ you lazy then.”
“See? And if you got yourself a stallion or two, I bet they’d work that stick the rest of the way out of your butt.”
Applejack wrinkled her snout in distaste. She kicked the tree and stepped over to the next. “Guess we are havin’ this conversation,” she muttered.
“Oh, c’mon, don’t be a prude.” She hovered the cloud lower. “It’s, like, a part of being alive.”
Applejack raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think hoppin’ into beds willy-nilly is part of bein’ alive, sugarcube. Least not for me.”
Rainbow rolled her eyes, then flopped onto her back. “Fine, forget the ‘or two,’ part. You wanna be boring and lame, you can still get laid, just with, like, a boyfriend or something. Gotta be some dude in town you’ve got your eye on.”
Huffing, Applejack finished off bucking the row and went to collect the apples. “Can’t say I got my eyes on any fellas, Dash.”
“Geeze, I’m not some big gossip. It’s Thunderlane, isn’t it? Half the mares in town are lining up to drape themselves over him.”
She stopped short with her teeth around the handle of a basket and shot Rainbow a sidelong glance. “He … ain’t really my type.”
“That’s—oh, shoot, I forgot.” Rainbow’s cheeks colored and she gave Applejack a guilty smile. She dropped her voice to a stage whisper. “You’ve told me before that you’re into mares. I feel dumb.”
Applejack shook her head and chuckled, then hauled the basket up. “Least I know you ain’t the sort to get all bent outta shape over somethin’ like that, seein’ as you plum forgot.”
“Hey, it’s not like you talk about that all the time. You told me, what, four years ago? Five? Lucky I remembered at all.” Rainbow resettled on the cloud with her hooves tucked behind her head. “That means you’re probably into me. That’s cool. Can’t say I’ve never been curious.”
“Somepony must’a dropped you on your head.”
“I’m messing with you, AJ, give me a break,” Rainbow teased, rolling back over on the cloud. “I mean, I am a little curious, but you know what I mean.”
Applejack chuckled and dumped out a few baskets. “I think you can go about workin’ that curiosity outta your system without me, Dash. Not that you ain’t a cute little thing, I just ain’t lookin’ to be nopony’s ‘mare or two.’”
“Right. You’re boring and lame, and you need a girlfriend.”
She sighed halfway through setting up for the next row of trees. She shot Rainbow a deadpan look. “So if’n I’m followin’ right, what I’m needin’ this girlfriend for is to work that stick out.”
“Exactly! So there’s gotta be a mare you’ve got your eye on, hurry up, spill.”
Applejack rolled her eyes so hard it came close to hurting and got back to work. “Don’t think that matters none to you.”
Rainbow drifted down closer. “So there is somepony.” She grinned at Applejack and scooted the cloud around to cut her off from walking up the row. “This’d be easier for you if you just said it, AJ.”
“Normally anypony who jaws off this much at me while I’m busy gets put to work.” Rainbow’s grin stayed constant, and eventually Applejack huffed again and stepped around her. “Not like it matters none. She ain’t into mares like that.”
“Ooh, getting closer.” Rainbow positioned herself to stay perfectly overhead. “So it’s somepony who’s not into mares, and you don’t wanna cough up their name. Rarity?”
The extra shade Rainbow gave her felt nice on her shoulders, but Applejack thought she would’ve happily traded hotter weather for some peace and quiet. “Somepony did drop you on your head.”
Rainbow ducked her head over the edge of the cloud, blocking Applejack’s vision with her bangs. “Oof. Better not let Rarity catch you saying something like that about her.”
“Guess it’s good you ain’t the gossip type.” Applejack pushed Rainbow’s head, sending the cloud listing upwards. She set the last basket in place and bucked the tree.
Rainbow righted the cloud and steered it back down again. “Okay, not Rarity. Fluttershy?”
“Nah.” She kicked the next tree and swept off her hat. She frowned at Rainbow in thought while she wiped her forehead. “Ain’t a crazy guess, I s’pose.”
Rainbow shrugged. “So not Rarity or Flutters … I’d guess Pinkie, but she’s, like, your cousin.” Rainbow flashed an evil grin. “Though I guess ‘cousin’ isn’t a problem if your brother isn’t.”
“Har-har.”
She rolled over again and splayed her front legs out. The cloud drifted with the motion. “So who is it then?”
Applejack paused with her back legs raised to kick and nearly fell forward on her face. She stumbled and clattered back to all fours. “… You’re kiddin’ me stoppin’ there, right?”
“Well, it can’t be Twilight.”
Applejack felt her face warm up. “What makes ya say that?”
Rainbow sprung up and hovered a few feet further in the air. “Oh, wow, it is her!” She floated back down. “All right, I can dig it, I totally wouldn’t mind being all curious with Twilight.”
“I didn’t say nothin’.” Applejack cleared her throat, glowered, and bucked the tree harder than she meant to. An apple bounced off her hat. “And I don’t see why you’d think it couldn’t be Twi. If I did have a thing for her, which I didn’t say I did.”
“Nothing wrong with her, it’s just you said it was somepony who wasn’t into mares.” Rainbow’s eyes widened. “You tho—oh, that’s right, you weren’t there!”
Applejack stopped picking up the few apples scattered in the dirt and stared at Rainbow. “What the heck are you blabberin’ about?”
“You went to bed early, so you missed it!” Rainbow chuckled and flopped over. “That Hearth’s Warming Eve play we did in Canterlot, everypony else stayed up talking for a while. Guess Twi doesn’t talk about this stuff any more than you do.”
Applejack glanced at the rest of the row of trees all waiting to be bucked, then sat down and looked at Rainbow. “What happened?”
“Nothing happened, Twi just told us … maybe I’m not supposed to say anything. I mean, I’m not gonna tell Rarity you think me guessing that you’re into her means I have brain damage.” She frowned and tapped her chin.
Applejack sighed and went to the next tree. Her stomach had started to knot up and Rainbow had in fact succeeded in wasting her time. If Rainbow wasn’t going to say anything she’d rather be kicking than thinking about it.
Rainbow waved a hoof dismissively, then repositioned the cloud over Applejack. “Aw, Twi was just talking, not telling us a secret, she won’t care. We were talking about Canterlot and junk, and her growing up there, and she said that when she was a filly she had a huge crush on Princess Celestia.”
Applejack stopped mid-stride and smirked to herself. “Huh. Guess that ain’t really surprisin’.” Her expression dropped back to neutral. “She ain’t still got a thing for the princess, does she?”
“Beats me.”
Applejack chuffed through her snout and bucked a tree.
“I wouldn’t bet on it, though. I mean, she had a thing for that weird two-legged guy in the mirror place, Flash Whatsisname. And she didn’t say anything about Princess Celestia when she talked about him. Probably a fillyhood thing she grew out of. I mean, it’d be kinda creepy if she didn’t, huh?”
Applejack frowned. “I guess? Ain’t like she’s still Twi’s teacher or nothin’. Guess it could be.”
“Creepier if it was Celestia who had a crush on Twilight back then.” Rainbow covered her chuckle with a hoof. “So, are you gonna?”
Applejack finally got through the rest of the row and went to collect the baskets. “Gonna what?”
“Ask her out, stupid.” Applejack froze. Rainbow sat back, saying, “I mean, you weren’t gonna because you thought she just liked stallions, but she’s into mares, too, so …”
“I didn’t say I liked her like that.”
“But you didn’t say you didn’t like her, either.” Rainbow crossed her forelegs over her chest. “And you said no about Rarity and Fluttershy as fast as I named ‘em. I didn’t get dropped on my head that hard, AJ.”
Applejack’s cheeks burned and she focused on the baskets, not looking at her friend. “That don’t mean nothin’.”
“Well then, tell me you don’t like her.”
Applejack grit her teeth.
“That’s what I thought. So, you gonna ask her out?”
Groaning, Applejack swept a basket onto her back and turned towards the cart. She marched, standing up a little too straight and proud, which knocked a few apples free. “Ain’t none of your business what I do, Dash.”
Rainbow snorted, then jumped off the cloud and hovered in place for a moment. “Doesn’t matter to me anyway. I’m not your mom. But hey, if you do go for it, I’m totally up for a threesome.” Applejack’s eye twitched. She swept an apple off the ground, turned, and chucked it at Rainbow’s head. Rainbow caught it. “Sweet, an apple. Thanks, AJ!” She crunched into it with a self-satisfied grin and flew off, trailing laughter.
Applejack grumbled darkly as her friend vanished. She watched the abandoned cloud drift with her jaw clenched, then squeezed her eyes shut and went back to collecting apples. She slapped them into a spare basket and slammed them home into the cart with more force than necessary, drawing a creak from the old wood. She stepped back and took a long breath. She probably bruised half the apples.
“What’cha so angry at, anyway?” she muttered to herself. “Dash is just bein’ Dash.” She heaved another breath, then dragged the cart along to the next row, taking care to be gentle. She set up the baskets with the same care as her mind twisted just like the knots in her stomach.
Rainbow’s taunting hadn’t really gotten to her, she reckoned. That featherhead was easy enough to ignore and didn’t mean any harm anyway. Applejack had let the jokes about her brother slide off her back. And when she got right down to it, even though it wasn’t for her, what any three ponies got up to in a bedroom together was their business and didn’t bother her.
She fell back into the groove of bucking trees. With her body on autopilot she could be alone with her thoughts. No, Rainbow Dash hadn’t gotten to her with teasing. She’d bent herself out of shape thinking about asking Twilight out.
Twilight’s face floated into her thoughts and she smiled to herself. Twilight smiled back, a lingering, smoky smile. She flinched, kicked a tree off-center, and sent apples tumbling everywhere. She groaned and sat on her haunches.
Applejack tried not to think of Twilight like that. At least, she used to try. It was something she couldn’t do anything about, and it felt easier to just push it out of mind.
“Dash’s probably eggin’ me on,” Applejack grumbled. “Feedin’ me a lie, tryin’ to get me to act a fool so she can laugh.” She crinkled her snout in annoyance and trudged back to her hooves, then set to work gathering up all the apples.
A part of her head she wanted to ignore voiced doubts over her explanation. Rainbow wasn’t above pranks, but she didn’t toy with ponies like that. Not to Applejack’s memory, anyway. And Rainbow wasn’t that good at acting. Applejack didn’t really have a good reason to doubt her friend. Likely it was exactly like Rainbow said—Twilight had feelings as a filly for Princess Celestia, which meant that Twilight liked mares. Her stomach knotted tighter.
Applejack dropped the last apple in the basket and slid off her hat. She wiped her brow with it and glanced up towards the sun. The day was getting long in the tooth for how little of the grove she’d finished. She’d need to put her back into it if she wanted to finish on schedule. Squaring her hat, Applejack flared her nostrils and smirked in challenge. “’Nough of that now,” she said. “There’s work to do.” She slammed her legs into a tree and slid to the next one, making up for lost time and moving fast enough her head stopped chattering.
“Whew!” Applejack beamed at her cart and the teetering mountain of apples threatening to spill out of it. She grinned in satisfaction as she looked at the sky. She’d finished at least an hour early, maybe two. Her legs weren’t the happiest about that and she’d be feeling it the next day, but at the moment the ache was a great feeling. “That’s how we do it on Sweet Apple Acres,” she boasted to herself and hitched into the cart. The wood groaned in protest along with her thighs as she brought it up to speed.
She eyed the grove she’d tackle in the morning as she passed and nodded in appreciation at the apples. At a glance they were not quite ready to come down, but they’d be perfect come morning. The markers she’d set up for the weather pegasi were in place, too, so the evening rains would be right where they need to be. Just like clockwork.
“Oh, Applejack! There you are!” Twilight called.
Applejack froze. The cart had other plans about stopping, and pushed her back into walking. She glanced up and saw Twilight hovering in the air. “Twilight! Um. Howdy!” Her voice sounded weird in her own ears, so she cleared her throat.
“I was just looking for you.” Twilight landed and fell into step next to Applejack.
“Were ya?” She looked sidelong at Twilight. “Ya didn’t talk to Rainbow today, did you?”
Twilight quirked an eyebrow. “Huh? No, I haven’t seen Rainbow, why?”
“Nothin’, no reason.” Applejack bit her lip and looked forward. When Twilight didn’t press her, she took a steadying breath and let her nerves stop jangling, which they had no business doing in the first place. A conversation with Twilight was nothing to act a fool over, whether or not Rainbow had shaken her up. She forced her shoulders to relax and hoped the rest of her would be able to follow suit. “So what brings ya out here?”
“I just got a letter from Princess Luna. There’s going to be a meteor shower tomorrow.”
“Oh, yeah?”
Twilight beamed and nodded. “She told me what part of the sky it’s going to be in, and Sweet Apple Acres is going to have the best view in Ponyville.”
“Really? Well don’t that beat all. Been a long while since there’s been a good ‘n proper meteor shower.” She smirked and looked up at the blue sky. “Hardly ever see ‘em outside of a Zap Apple Harvest, and I reckon those showers’re different.”
“They are different. Princess Luna doesn’t have any control over the harvest. It’s all wild magic.” Applejack raised her eyebrows. “I asked her about it once. She thinks it’s caused by the Everfree Forest.”
Applejack chuckled. “I could’a told you that.” They came to a fork in the path, and Applejack turned towards the barn. Twilight followed alongside her. “Always liked shootin’ stars, I’ll have’ta make time to watch it. Bet you’re gonna be watchin’ it.”
“Well, I was hoping it would be okay for me to watch from your farm.”
“Course it is.”
“Great! Thanks, AJ.” They shared a grin. “It’s supposed to be really impressive, but that might have just been Luna getting poetic.”
“I’d put my bits on both, I reckon.” She smirked. “Princess Luna’s got that flair in her. Kinda like Rarity.”
Twilight giggled and nodded. “She does, doesn’t she? I guess they both have earned it, though. Luna’s night is always so beautiful.”
The barn came into view and Applejack slowed her pace. “I always liked that about Princess Luna comin’ back.” She grinned. “She went off the deep end ‘cause nopony loved her nights enough, and then the world gets saved by the mare who loves her nights more’n anypony else in Equestria.”
Twilight bumped into Applejack’s shoulder playfully. “I didn’t save anything, we did.”
She winked. “The story works better my way.” They passed the fence into the barnyard, and Applejack sighed. “Anyway, yeah, it’s fine with me if’n you wanna watch from the farm.” She brought herself to a halt and stood her ground as the cart bumped against her. An apple rolled from the top of the pile. She caught it out of the air and flung it back up. “It ain’t like you’d be in anypony’s way that time’a night.”
Twilight grinned and nodded. “I just thought it wouldn’t be right to not ask you first. You’d do the same if it was the other way around.”
“And you’d be tellin’ me I ain’t gotta worry about somethin’ like that.” She grinned, then remembered what she was doing and looked back at the cart. “Oop. Here I am standin’ around when I should be unloadin’ this.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” As Applejack unharnessed herself, Twilight opened her wings and jumped into the air, floating a few feet off the ground. “I didn’t mean to take up all your time talking. I’ll get out of your mane and let you work.”
Applejack waved a hoof dismissively, then turned towards the cart. “Oh, you ain’t a bother none. I always got time to talk with you.” She grinned to herself.
“Still, you’re busy. Thanks again, I’ll see you—”
Applejack’s mouth started moving before she knew what she was saying. “Twilight, would you wanna go out with me sometime?” She clacked her teeth shut and her eyes widened. “I did not just say that,” she muttered under her breath.
“Huh?”
Applejack plastered a nonchalant look on her face and turned around too fast, bumping the cart. The same apple bounced its way to the ground and landed in a slick of mud. Twilight hovered in place overhead with her brows raised in surprise. Applejack cranked her brain for what to say to smooth that over, but her jaw seemed to have glued itself shut.
Twilight listed in the air sideways. “Uhh … O-okay. Sure! Um.” She righted her flying, but started drifting the other way.
Applejack’s jaw went from rigid to numb. It was all she could do to keep it from flopping open.
Twilight blinked a few times and smiled. Applejack felt content in just blinking. A few seconds turned themselves into eternities before Twilight scratched the back of her head and said, “Um. You … wanna watch the meteor shower with me? W … we could have a picnic?”
Applejack cranked her brain into working well enough to force out, “I-if you wanna.”
“Okay. Good. Great! Uh … I’ll … I’ll see you tomorrow night then.” Twilight grinned wider, and then flew off, not quite rightside up and in the wrong direction. After a few yards she turned awkwardly and disappeared towards town.
Applejack found the muscles in her jaw again and clacked it shut. She scrunched her eyes tight and slammed her hooves into the cart. Apples rained everywhere. “Stupid freakin’ idiot!” she growled. “The heck was that?! What’s wrong with me?!”
She tromped through the barnyard and kicked, tossed, and smacked all the fallen fruit into the storage trench, grinding her teeth and whipping her tail from side to side. The knots in her belly were back and tighter than ever and she could feel her pulse behind her eyes. “Celestia damn you, Dash, why’d ya have to go and tell me that?” she grumbled to herself. “Somepony must’a dropped me on my head.”
She grabbed the yoke on the cart in her teeth and yanked it into position to dump out the day’s harvest—what was left of it, anyway—and nearly tore the cart in half upending it. Her work officially done, she marched up to the barn, sat down, and thumped her head against the wall. She sat with her forehead against the wood and waited for her muscles to stop jangling. She forced deep breaths.
A few minutes passed. The thought that Apple Bloom might happen upon her thumping her head against a wall crossed her mind, and the chance of having that conversation drove her back to her hooves. She huffed and trudged back to the cart, pulling it up onto its wheels. It let off a dusty squeak, but didn’t seem worse for wear at least. She led it inside the barn. “Really ain’t a big deal,” she muttered.
The knots in her stomach didn’t agree with her. As she thought about it, her frown deepened. “Anyway, I should be happy.”
She slid the barn door shut and set off for the farmhouse with her head bowed.
Applejack bucked the tree and ground her teeth. Apples fell every which way except in the basket, including one that stayed put in the crease of her hat. She growled and shook it into the basket.
“S’posed to be happy.” She set about gathering up the others and loading them by hoof, something that felt all too familiar that morning, then prepared to kick the next tree in line and do the whole thing over again.
The day started off on the wrong hoof and hadn’t gotten better. She’d muttered and blathered about nothing and everything all through dinner, then went to bed to stare at the ceiling for half the night. Her legs burned from the day before and it felt like nothing was going right, like her clockwork had sprung a cog or three.
In fits and starts, she’d tried to get a handle on herself. Running sideways and mucking up the harvest didn’t do a thing for anypony, and every second she spent fumbling around she wished she had time to just stop and think. Then when she tried, she’d jump back to her hooves and hurry off to almost break something else. If Rainbow Dash had shown up again and asked her if she was going to ask Twilight out, she would’ve shouted that she had no cotton-picking idea one way or the other, even though it’d already happened.
The worst part was she couldn’t even make herself think about the thing that bothered her the most. That she had no idea why she was bothered at all.
She dropped the last apple in the basket and sighed. She sat down on her haunches and slumped her shoulders. “This ain’t workin’. I need to do somethin’ else than just bangin’ my head against the barn some more.” She groaned and stood up again, pacing the row. “Whether I’m s’posed to be happy or not, I ain’t.”
She replayed it in her head again, the conversation with Twilight that ended with her fool of a mouth spouting off. She still couldn’t fathom why it happened, but it had. She wished Rainbow hadn’t said a word and she’d been left in blissful ignorance. Rainbow was the one who thought she needed a girlfriend, not her, she was fine being single. Twilight was a nice thought, somepony she could admire in the moment and then say ‘wouldn’t it be nice’ to herself, but that was all it ever was. She didn’t need to think about anything more.
“Askin’ her was a mistake.” Applejack pressed her mouth into a thin line and turned away from the trees. She stepped onto the main path. “I gotta get out of this. Tell her somethin’ else. Let it go back to normal, so I can work again.” She headed for the road off the farm, then swayed in place. “… How the heck do I do that without hurtin’ her?”
She winced and stared at the canopy of Twilight’s castle off in the distance. She couldn’t just march in and say it was a mistake and she changed her mind. Couldn’t even tell the truth and say she’d asked without thinking and it was making her feel ill. No amount of good manners or tact could make that sound nice.
She grimaced and turned away. “Maybe I’ll haveta hurt her …” She grit her teeth. No matter how much her stomach roiled throughout the day, hurting Twilight on purpose felt even worse. “I just … I gotta think about this.” She set off again, aiming for the farmhouse.
She reckoned she had a couple sheets of paper and a pencil stuffed away somewhere, and she could write out a letter to Twilight. She wouldn’t mail it—if the aim was to cancel without hurting Twilight, sending a damn coward’s note wasn’t gonna do that. But it’d give her a chance to figure out what to say, and know how to say it when she did march in.
She went through the door and slipped past Granny napping on the rocker, up to her room. She dawdled through getting her desk cleared and set for writing, sat down, and stared at the crisp sheet, gritting her teeth. “Okay, I can do this,” she muttered. She picked up a pencil in her mouth.
Dear Twilight,
“… Ain’t no sense in that, not like I’m sendin’ this for real.” She scratched it out. Now the page had a messy squiggle at the top and she debated tossing it aside for a fresh sheet, but no sense in that if she wasn’t sending it, either.
Twilight, I made a mistake.
An image of Twilight’s face popped into her head, ears drooping and lip stuck out. “… Hoo doggie, no.” Another line through a sentence, and she narrowed her eyes at the paper. “How’m I s’posed to start this?” Two squiggles officially made it a practice sheet, so she scrawled out a hoofful of openings.
How you doing? I need to talk to you. Can we talk? Listen, about yesterday. I got a problem. Were you really looking forward to tonight? I’m an idiot.
The Twilight’s expression shifted from bemusement to annoyance to outright confusion. Applejack groaned, dropped the pencil, and thumped her head on the desk. “This ain’t that hard. Twi’s reasonable. So long as I ain’t rude, she’ll get my meanin’ …” She shuffled the first sheet to the side.
Since I asked you out yesterday, I’ve been panicking something fierce. I don’t know that it’s a good idea. I wasn’t thinking straight when I asked and it’s been bothering me so bad I can hardly do a thing without stumbling over myself. We’ve been friends for ages and I don’t want that to change. I know a date ain’t gonna ruin a friendship, but …
She squeezed her eyes shut. “But what?” She rubbed her face with two hooves and looked up at the ceiling. “But it’s makin’ me feel like I’m gonna throw up? But I’m goin’ crazier’n a fox in a henhouse? But I’m so dang scared I can’t breathe?” She groaned and slumped forward. She read back over what she had so far, how false everything sounded to her ears, how she had written in platitudes. She wasn’t scared over their friendship. Nopony in Equestria had the strength to tear that friendship apart. No thing in Equestria did, either.
It was just a date, it wouldn’t hurt anything, and Celestia above, she ought to be happy about it. She pushed the second sheet away and snatched up the pencil.
The image of Twilight asked, “What are you trying to say, Applejack?”
Appljeack sighed. “This, I think.” She started writing.
Twilight. I thought that asking you to go out with me would make me happy. Instead, it’s made me scared. Scared and sick, and I don’t know why, but whatever the reason, I think I shouldn’t have asked. It’s nothing about you, you’re one of my best friends in the whole world, and I thought seeing if we could be something more would feel right. But I feel wrong, and it ain’t fair of me to drag you into my mess. This ain’t from anything you did, this is all on me, and I’m sorry and hope me fumbling around like an idiot didn’t hurt you none. Last thing I want to do is hurt you.
Applejack pored over the words again. A sinking feeling pulled the pit of her stomach down further with each sentence. It rang true to her ears, not blunt nor minced, and the imaginary Twilight she was reading it to seemed to take it in good grace, but seeing everything spelled out didn’t make her feel a lick better. She just felt tired. She pushed the sheet to the side and looked at a fresh page, rolling the pencil in her teeth, trying to picture another way to write it that might not leave her feeling so empty. She puzzled over it, writing half words and scratching them out, then staring some more, but nothing new came. She sighed and dropped the pencil.
Applejack pulled the third sheet back and read it again, then a third time, trying to hold the words as she wrote them in her head strong enough to know how to say it out loud. She crumpled the four sheets and tossed them in the garbage, pushed away from her desk, and trudged back downstairs. She slipped past Granny still sawing logs and headed for the road.
She rehearsed the little script in her head as she walked. The corners of her mouth pulled down to a resigned frown and she let her head droop. If she didn’t know better, she’s swear the sun was racing her, eating up the rest of the day before she had a chance to get her work done, and after a while she realized she was throwing that race. She could barely drag herself along the road.
“C’mon, let’s get this over with,” she muttered. Her stomach ground against itself, and she took a deep breath, eyes darting to the canopy of Twilight’s home. “Twilight. I thought asking you out’d make me happy,” she said to herself.
She tried to picture Twilight in her head again, really play-act the conversation. Patient, understanding Twilight, hearing her speech as she said it. Twilight shifted into outrage. “You’re breaking up with me? Before we even started dating? Go to tartarus, Applejack!”
She chuckled at herself and shook her head. “Yeah, right. Try again, stupid.” She paused and took a breath. “I thought it, but it’s just made me scared, and sick, and I ain’t got a clue why.”
“The thought of being with me makes you feel sick?”
She groaned. “The real Twi ain’t this argumentative.”
“You’re the one imagining me.”
“Point.” Applejack swallowed, then glanced around the road. Good, nopony around to watch her argue with herself. “… Twi, I thought askin’ you out’d make me happy, but it’s just made me scared ‘n sick, and I ain’t sure it was a good idea.”
“Oh.” The imaginary Twilight smiled. “That’s a relief. I just said yes because you caught me off guard. I think it’s a bad idea, too. Let’s forget it ever happened.”
Applejack could taste acid at the back of her throat. She pushed the image away and squeezed her eyes shut. She’d stopped walking and stood in the middle of the road, her heart racing in her ears. “Just stop it,” she spat. “Just get your tail to her place, get through it, and get back to work.”
She glared ahead and pushed herself into a march, then a trot, then a full gallop, racing towards the castle. “I’ll feel better after. I’ll feel …”
Her hoof snagged on a stone, dragging it out of the dirt and sending it sailing off into the grass. She twisted, eyes flying wide, and slammed down on her chest. She tumbled sideways and skidded through the dust until she hitched up on the shoulder of the road.
She groaned and dragged herself back to standing. She waggled her hoof. Nothing broken at least, just her pride dusted up with the rest of her. She sunk to her haunches and buried her face in her hooves.
“If this is s’posed to make me feel better, why do I feel like this?”
Everything hurt. Not just the tingle of scrapes and aches from roughing herself up, and not just the twisted lump in her gut. Everything compounded together into a full body pain that made her want to drop to the ground and give up. The script echoed through her head. “Last thing I want to do is hurt you.”
Twilight’s ears drooped and she shook her head. “But you’re fine with hurting yourself, I see.”
“I just messed up. If I fix it, I’ll feel …” She grimaced at the burning in her throat.
“You’ll feel just like you do now.”
She dropped her hooves and looked up at the sky. “What am I s’posed to do? Goin’ on the date is drivin’ me crazy, goin’ to cancel is makin’ it worse, and draggin’ you into my mess ain’t fair to you.”
“I am used to dealing with messes.”
Applejack rolled her eyes and pulled herself back to her hooves. “We all are, I reckon. Don’t mean you deserve ‘em.”
“Maybe you deserve to be happy.”
“That’s what I’m tryin’ to do, but I ain’t got a damned idea what that means, or what I should be doin’, or even why I’m feelin’ the way I do right now at all, and talkin’ to myself in the middle of the road ain’t how I figure it out.” She sighed and shook her head, then turned and looked off at the castle. Her insides felt deflated and she was tired enough to lay down and sleep straight through until the next morning. “And a Twilight in my head ain’t gonna be able to tell me no better’n I’ve been tryin’ already.”
“Well, what do you want to happen?”
“I just …” She took a deep breath. “I wanna be happy about goin’ out.” She felt her face slacken and she bowed her head. “I thought it’d make me happy, and I just want that to be the truth.” The imagined Twilight didn’t answer, as Applejack expected. The game conversation was over. She dusted herself off and turned around.
Maybe she couldn’t have exactly what she wanted. She still felt frightened and out of sorts, a big, twisted mess of a pony, and if things didn’t turn around then tomorrow she’d have a heck of a lot of lost time to try and make up. She hoped she’d be in a better frame of mind then, after she’d had the date.
Because that’s where she was going that evening. It was what she wanted to happen after all. She lifted her chin and took a deep breath. Scared, sick, confused, happy, or not, she did feel different about it.
If Rainbow Dash flew by and asked her if she was gonna ask Twilight out, she would’ve said yes.
Applejack stumbled over her own hooves stepping out of the farmhouse. She stopped, squeezed her eyes shut, and counted to ten before walking again, aiming for an unassuming stroll but positive she looked like a newborn calf stumbling around on unused legs. Halfway out of the yard, she realized she forgot the picnic basket and stormed back inside.
Second time out and trying to balance a basket on her back with jellyhooves, Applejack made it out to the road before noticing she had left her hat in the bathroom. She glanced back at the orchards, ran a dozen questions through her head, then set off towards Ponyville without it.
“Keep it together, AJ,” she grumbled. “This ain’t a big deal. It’s one little date. That don’t mean much, and even if it does, that’d be good. This is good. You’re gonna have a good time. It’s Twilight, you’ll be fine no matter how it goes.”
Applejack’s stomach roiled in rebellion.
“This is good. Oh, Celestia, I should’a worn somethin’, shouldn’t I? Watch me get there and Twi’s decked out in a dress. No. We’re stargazin’ at a picnic, not goin’ dancin’, so shut your trap, AJ. Worst that’s gonna happen is Twi’ll know you’re an idiot.”
Haltingly, she crossed over from the outskirts and into the heart of Ponyville, and she took comfort that the journey was easier than the one she tried to take in the morning.
The sky had faded from blue to orange and red by the time she got to the castle tree’s doors. She adjusted the basket, then paced back and forth. Every pass, she’d raise a hoof to the handle, debated knocking instead, grimaced, then turned and kept walking. After the fifth time, she grit her teeth and knocked.
The door opened and Spike poked his head out. “There you are, Applejack.”
“Howdy, Spike. Uh … is … Twi, um …”
“Twilight said you might knock first. Come on in, she’ll be down in a minute.” Spike pushed the door open and wandered back into the hallway.
Applejack swallowed and stepped inside. She shut the door behind herself and hovered at the threshold for a moment. She glanced over at Spike, who waited at the door to a sitting room. She forced a smile and followed after him. “Twi thought I might knock, huh?”
“Yeah. It’s weird that you did.” Spike dropped to a pillow on the floor as Applejack set down the picnic basket. “I don’t get it. Nopony ever knocks. This place is way too big to hear the door if you’re not right by it.”
Applejack pressed her lips together as she sat on a pillow opposite Spike, her back a little too straight to be comfortable. “I just, uh … felt like knockin’ was the right thing.” She cleared her throat and looked at Spike in her periphery.
“I guess. I mean, you guys are going on a picnic, it’s not like it’s a date or whatever.”
Applejack didn’t move a muscle.
“… It is a date, isn’t it?” Spike groaned and flopped onto his back. “Ugh, she could’ve just told me, now I feel stupid.”
“I-it’s, um …”
Spike sprung back up and crossed his arms over his chest, pouting. “It’s not your fault, Applejack. Twilight never tells me about any of these things.” He harrumphed, then dropped his annoyance for a questioning look. “So a stargazing picnic, huh? That sounds really romantic.”
Applejack folded her ears flat. “Uh …”
“Did you bring her flowers? Candy? Candied flowers? I know Twilight really likes sugar-poppies. What did you make for food? Are you gonna—”
Twilight cut him off. “I didn’t tell you, Spike, because I knew you’d talk her ear off just like this.” Applejack started, and turned to Twilight standing in the doorway and smirking at Spike. “You’re making me feel nervous, and you’re not even talking to me.”
Spike grumbled and crossed his arms again. “I was just curious.”
Twilight giggled and shook her head. “I understand. You’re a true romantic at heart, Spike. More romantic than most of the rest of us.” She turned and caught Applejack’s eyes, her smile melting to a smaller, more content and pleased one. “Hi, AJ.”
Applejack’s pulse throbbed in her ears. She tried to return that smile. “Howdy, Twi.” She cleared her throat. “I, uh … y-you ready?” Twilight nodded, and Applejack fumbled her way back to her hooves. A moment of wild panic that she lost the picnic basket ran up her spine, until she remembered it was on the floor two inches away. She scooped it up and walked towards Twilight. Twilight turned, and fell into step next to her as she passed into the hallway.
In the silence approaching the front door, Applejack’s head quieted down enough for her to have a moment’s peace. In that moment she felt foolish for acting like a lovesick filly so at wit’s end she couldn’t keep track of her own tongue, and bewildered for not actually feeling like one. If those matched up she’d at least know what was going on in her own head. Instead all she could say is that she most certainly had no idea how to feel about anything. She held the door open for Twilight.
Twilight smiled as she crossed in front. She’d showered recently, and spent extra time brushing her mane and tail perfectly straight. Applejack thought she looked beautiful, but she thought that every time she saw her friend, if only to take note and file it away where she wouldn’t think about it. Old information that didn’t help sort out her thoughts. At least she hadn’t underdressed. She let the door shut behind them and they headed back across town.
She realized neither of them had said anything since they’d left the sitting room. She looked out of the corner of her eye at Twilight, who had her lips pressed together and head rigidly forward. Twilight returned the sideways glance, meeting eyes with Applejack, and Applejack shot her attention down to her hooves.
“So, uh …” Applejack cleared her throat. “How’s your day been?” She winced internally. Smooth.
“Not bad. I, um … Well, Starlight had a small panic attack earlier. She wrote a letter to Sunburst and was convinced it would make him never speak to her again.”
Applejack smirked, half out of relief that the silence was broken. “Really? She show it to you?” Twilight nodded. “What’d she say that’d make him mad?”
“Absolutely nothing, it was a normal letter. She was just completely sure that saying ‘hi’ was too informal, and that ‘it was great to see you’ sounded clingy. It just got worse from there.”
Applejack chuckled and shook her head. “That poor girl.” Applejack’s smile drooped. “… Not that I don’t know what it’s like runnin’ circles in my own head worryin’ about what I oughta say in a letter. Or, uh, when I’m nervous and walkin’ alongside somepony, even if I’ve known ‘em for years.”
Twilight grinned and nodded. “Yeah. Doing that is silly.” She met Applejack’s sidelong look. “We should stop.”
Applejack laughed again. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be weird about it, it’s just …”
“Weird?” Twilight offered. “It is a little, don’t worry. It’s hard to know what to do. I haven’t really been on that many … dates before.” She glanced down.
“Yeah. I been on a couple, I guess. School dances ‘n things. That was with colts, though, so I ain’t sure they really count. Guess this is my first real one.” Her stomach squirmed.
Twilight giggled. “If that’s the dividing line, then I definitely haven’t been on a real one yet. I went on … something with Flash Sentry, I guess. I’m not sure it counted. Maybe this can be both of our real first dates.”
Applejack wasn’t sure her stomach would be in any shape to keep the picnic down. She cleared her throat and hoped that if she could keep talking, she could put herself at ease again. Just so long as it was about something other than sharing a first date with Twilight. “So’d you get Starlight calmed down?”
“Hm? Oh, yeah, I did. I ended up helping her write a second letter that was almost exactly the same as the first. That did the trick.” Twilight shook her head. “After that, it was just a normal sort of day for me. I read a little, and got through some of my own letters. How’s your day been?”
Applejack swallowed the lump in her throat. “Oh, same for me, I guess. The early harvest’s a lot of doin’ the same thing over ‘n over again, so today wasn’t much different from yesterday.” A big difference was she hadn’t asked out a friend and driven herself half-crazy that afternoon, but she opted to leave that out. “Me ‘n Mac are gonna switch off who’s buckin’ and who’s sellin’ soon, so that’ll change things up. If nothin’ else, it means he ain’t gonna come grumblin’ to me about bruised up apples for a bit.”
Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Did that happen?”
“It was Dash’s fault.” Applejack chewed her lip and paid special attention to the road. The paver stones grew further apart as they got further from the town’s center and would soon give way to dirt. “Not important, a lotta those apples end up in the pig troughs anyway. So I know it ain’t been that long yet, but how’re things settlin’ in with Starlight?”
“Starlight seems …” Twilight let out a long breath through her snout and looked off in the distance. “I’m not really sure yet. I was apprehensive at the start—I’m sure everypony was. After she saw what stopping Rainbow’s sonic rainboom did, she seemed really sincere about starting over, and after the crystalling I feel even better, but … we did meet her in a town where she’d manipulated everypony around her with a careful choice of words. I’m not sure when it will ever really be safe to let my guard down.” She turned to Applejack. She flattened her ears. “… You probably meant if she uses up all the hot water or leaves dishes in the sink, huh?”
Applejack chuckled. “I’d stake the farm that nopony in town is a worse water-hog than Big Macintosh, but that was what I was pokin’ at. To tell ya the truth, though, it’s been hard knowin’ what to think about her. I wanna see the best in her ‘n really give her a clean break, but it’s hard to trust a silver tongue.”
“Yeah.” Twilight sighed and shook her head. “I feel bad, like I’m letting her down. It felt different with Discord not being able to trust him right away. I’m sure it will be easier over time. The more lessons she passes, the more likely it is that she’s sincere.”
“I hope so. She don’t seem like a bad mare, and seein’ her get on her own four hooves’ll be great.” Applejack smirked. “’Specially if she leaves dishes in the sink.”
Giggling, Twilight turned off the main road towards Sweet Apple Acres. “Spike’s the one who’s bad about that. Starlight has a habit of not putting books away.”
“Hoo boy, that’s a bad habit to have around you,” Applejack teased.
“Oh, come on, I’m not that bad.” She grinned, and then paused to look up at the sky. The oranges bled into purples as the sun lowered, and the brightest of the stars twinkled through. She pointed off to the southwest. “Luna said the shower would be in that part of the sky.”
“I know just the place to get a good look at it.” She set off through the orchard and let the conversation lull. The quiet felt better, a more natural silence as they weaved their way between groves and past the west barn. She had a grin on her face as she led Twilight off the path and into the trees to an older part of the farm. The rows gave way to chaos with trunks bursting up wherever they pleased from thick grass. They crested a hill to one of Applejack’s favorite spots.
A lone tree grew on the hilltop, gnarled and thick with age rarely seen in trees that still grew apples. Her canopy hung low and thick, free of even blossoms. The old girl had slowed down in her senior years, and Applejack felt lucky to get a few pieces of fruit from her a season, but she was a special tree anyway. She got to look out over the wilderness that pressed up against the farm’s borders and stretched on to the horizon, up above all the other trees, soaking in the sun and free from the hustle and bustle of civilization. When Applejack sat with her back pressed to the trunk, Canterlot clung to the mountains far behind her.
In the growing night, the view down below hid itself in shadow, but the sky exploded into dapples of starlight. Applejack hadn’t been up to the hill at night in ages, and looking out over the view she couldn’t fathom why. “This is the spot, Twi.”
“It’s gorgeous here.”
Applejack turned and looked at Twilight. Her eyes brimmed over with reflected stars. Applejack could feel the awe and reverence in that expression, even in the darkness. Her stomach flipped over. She turned away to lower the basket to the ground and pulled out a blanket to spread under the canopy, then looked up at the sky.
Twilight sat next to her. She nudged the basket closer and settled as much as she could. “D’you know when it’s—”
A streak of white broke the swirl of galaxies, arcing down and glittering like seafoam. A second, then a third followed, and soon the sky danced before them, a shimmer of lights shredding themselves to stardust. Applejack realized she’d left her hoof halfway in the picnic basket, but couldn’t bring herself to move it and risk taking her attention away from sky.
“I ain’t never seen …” she marveled.
The dance slowed after a while, drifting from a fiery tango to a waltz as pairs of meteors circled each other on the way down. Their trails grew fat and iridescent, reflecting the greens and reds of the earth. Twilight’s hoof slid down her fetlock and cupped hers inside the basket.
“Thank you for bringing me here,” Twilight whispered. “I’m glad you asked.”
Applejack dragged her eyes away from the sky and looked at the basket. Twilight’s hoof felt soft against her, small and fragile. And warm. “… I ain’t sure I can take credit. Doin’ this was your idea.”
“I guess. I wouldn’t have suggested it if you hadn’t asked me, though.”
“What made you say yes? I … I thought I might’a surprised you into it, but I ain’t so sure anymore.” The sky flashed with vibrancy and drew her gaze back. “I ain’t sure about a lotta things.”
For a while, the question hung in the air with the meteor shower, staying out of the way of its ebbs and flows but waiting in expectation. Twilight pressed her shoulder into Applejack’s side. “I said yes because I didn’t know what else to say.” A long trail fizzled to gold and yellow towards the ground like a firework. “It was the only answer I had to give.”
“You could’a said no.”
“I didn’t want to. I wanted to say yes.” Twilight’s hoof slid from her touch to deeper in the basket, and Applejack pulled back. “Maybe you did catch me by surprise and I normally would have taken time to think about it before answering.” Twilight lifted a plate and pinched a corner of the waxed paper wrapping it, revealing a mound of crispy fried eggplants, okra, and a couple biscuits. “I still would have said yes. It’s what I wanted to do. I don’t think that really answers your question, though.”
Applejack watched a star drift sideways through the sky, slow and steady, more like a comet than a meteor, and took one of the eggplants. “To tell ya the truth, I ain’t sure I know what my question is.”
“Mmf.” Twilight pressed closer and rested her head on Applejack’s shoulder. “Oh, your cooking is always amazing, AJ.” She crunched into the eggplant again.
Applejack chuckled and bit into her piece. “There’s some cobbler, too.” The comet streak sputtered and pulsed in sparks. The last of its stardust hung in the air before fading to nothingness. New stars shot down, cascading in a waterfall.
“I’ll try to save room.” Twilight chewed the last bite of eggplant and grabbed several strips of okra. “Your question makes me wonder about something.”
Applejack turned her head. She could see the shower reflected in Twilight’s eyes.
“Why did you ask me yesterday? I could tell it wasn’t planned. I can’t imagine you’d wait to ask me and not have a plan, so something must have been different. What changed?”
Applejack turned back to the display, unsure if she could swallow the eggplant in her mouth. The batter turned sour on her tongue. She forced the lump down her throat, into her squirming stomach. “… If you’d asked me two days ago why I never said somethin’, I would’a told you it was because I thought you only had eyes for stallions.” She looked at the half of eggplant and lowered her hoof. “That’s the answer I had in my head, anyway.”
“You thought …? I … I guess I don’t talk about that sort of thing very much.”
“Dash set me straight on it yesterday. I slept through you talkin’ about it with the others in Canterlot.”
Twilight nodded, and popped a piece of okra in her mouth. “So that’s why you asked me.”
Applejack lifted the eggplant again, sighed, then dropped it on the plate. “… I don’t know why I asked you.”
A new looming weight filled the air with expectation. The shots of white had become random, erratic, with twins and triplets streaking through the sky and then going silent. Applejack wished a rush would pick up again, so she would have an excuse not to look at Twilight.
Twilight sat up, pulling away from Applejack’s side. “Are you … did you not want to do this?”
The food in her belly lurched sideways. “I...the thought of not doin’ it made me feel worse, but really I...I don’t know what I want. I—” Applejack grimaced. She wished she had found the strength to put her head straight sometime during the day. She felt like she was grasping at straws in her own mind and scrambling to find the right one. Something that rang true to her own ears. “I …”
Applejack took a deep breath. She was good at telling the truth. She opened her mouth, and listened to whatever her heart wanted to say, right alongside Twilight. “Yes. Yes, I want this. I asked you. Whether I know what’s goin’ on in my head or not, I still asked, and that’s gotta count for somethin’.” She paused in thought and looked off in the distance. Hearing herself say the words carried a sense of finality. Whatever else she was feeling, she knew it had been the truth, and that had to count for something, too. The sky remained stubbornly still and she turned to face Twilight. “I just wish I felt right about it.”
Twilight frowned and looked down at the basket, then up at the sky. A star fell in a slow spin, catching in her irises. “I agreed for the same reason you asked, I guess.”
“… I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. If I said I haven’t been confused and a little scared about tonight …” The star split in two, then four, then crumbled to a sheet of light. She smiled. “I’d be lying. I flew back home and came close to a panic attack. I’ve spent every moment since thinking about this.”
Applejack gave a half-hearted smirk and nodded. “I know what ya mean.”
“I’m not sure I’ll stop thinking about it for quite a while, but I started asking myself questions.” She looked sideways at Applejack. “Questions that are probably closer to what you were trying to ask me earlier.”
Applejack raised her eyebrows. The shower picked up again, but she kept herself focused on Twilight.
“I … started with ones I thought would be easy to answer. If I liked who you are … if I knew I could get along with you over time without getting frustrated or annoyed … if I think you’re attractive … things like that were very easy to answer.”
Applejack felt her cheeks color. A small smile forced its way onto her face.
“I’ve read about dating and relationships before, and I’ve talked about them with my brother and Cadence. Those are the sorts of things most ponies are trying to figure out on their first few dates, but I know you pretty well already. I know that when we had that conversation about Starlight, you weren’t agreeing with me about how much to trust her just to agree with me. You felt the same way I do, because we just think about some things the same way. A lot of things. Though that … that last question doesn’t have anything to do with me knowing you, but it was easy to answer anyway.”
The blush warmed up. She looked at the sky, and the rush of meteors. She thought back over her day of panicking, and wondered how she would’ve felt if she’d let herself ask those same questions. She knew her answers to them. They felt innate, like she’d always known those answers, like they were the foundation for the feelings she’d spent so long ignoring. Admitting them to herself felt like a deep, steadying breath.
“There were other questions I could only answer by going on a date with you.” She picked up a biscuit. “Or more than one date. If I could think about you in a romantic way or if we’ve become too much like family and it felt wrong. If I wanted to go out with you again after. If … if I want to kiss you when this one’s over, and if I … if we do kiss, how it would make me feel.”
Applejack cleared her throat and focused on the sky. She could already answer most of those, too.
“At that point, coming here with you was the only choice I could make.” She looked over at Applejack and smiled. “I knew I wanted to answer those questions.”
Applejack swallowed, and let the heat burn off her cheeks in the cool night breeze. She turned back to Twilight. “… Did you answer some of ‘em?”
“I know it didn’t feel wrong to hold your hoof like that.” Twilight folded her ears back and looked at the basket. “And earlier, when we were sitting together … I was getting less sure if I wanted to wait for the date to be over before kissing you.”
For a moment Applejack didn’t move, and just forced herself to take slow breaths. She’d scarcely noticed the coil in her belly had untwisted the longer she’d listened, and she felt ravenous, like she could down the rest of the eggplant plate in three bites. Instead, she raised her hoof and held it in the air next to her side. Twilight took hold of it with her own, still delicate and warm to Applejack’s touch. “I guess … I guess I spent so long thinkin’ this wasn’t gonna happen, I ain’t been able to let myself think about what I’d do if it did.”
A sense of freedom expanded in Applejack’s chest, a lightness, like thick chains had sloughed off, and with them gone she thought she could finally see what they’d been holding. She’d encased her heart in stone with every dismissal, guarding herself from disappointment with armor. The stone had cracked and crumbled, and she felt raw.
The sky fell dark, and then so bright the rest of the world went pitch as dozens of meteors fell at once, marching like soldiers. “I’m … I’m scared, Twi. I ain’t used to bein’ scared like this.”
“You know that no matter how this turns out, I’ll never stop being your friend, right?”
Applejack swallowed, her throat feeling thick. “That ain’t what’s scaring me. We’ve been through too much for a sour date or two to throw it all out.” She frowned as a second row of soldiers fell behind the first, making the sky ripple like the sea. “… I spent the day a lot like you did, except I wasn’t askin’ myself those sorts of questions. But … I already knew my answers, same way I might know when it’s cold out. They’re just sittin’ in my head.” A third wave rolled through, then sped up and spun around the second. “I should’a been askin’, though. Might’a made me feel better.”
“Maybe.” Twilight pressed into Applejack’s shoulder. “… I’m glad our answers are matching up.” She shifted her hoof and held Applejack’s tighter.
Applejack thought ‘delicate’ might’ve been the wrong word to describe the feeling of Twilight’s hoof in her own. Sure, small and gentle compared to her labor-hardened hooves, but beneath that was the strength that Twilight had, borne of wit, confidence, and personal conviction. Maybe precious was a better choice. Something worth protecting.
Applejack smiled and leaned against Twilight. Her stomach grumbled, and she remembered the plate of food sitting on the blanket. She snatched up her eggplant and took another bite. “I’m sorry for makin’ this all about my head. I should’a just been watchin’ the fireworks and enjoyin’ myself.”
“It’s okay. I feel a little better now, too.” Three meteors shot at each other from different directions, drawing a six-pointed star, then spiraling into a whirlpool. “And nothing’s stopping us from watching now.”
Applejack smiled and finished off her first eggplant, then grabbed another. They cleaned the plate in silence as trails of white painted the sky and were halfway through the cobbler when the last star fell, hovering just above the horizon and fading from white, to gold, to crimson, before dissolving into dust and scattering on the wind. The swirls of galaxies grew sharper in the darkness and twinkled in a gentle chorus of applause.
Twilight rested her head against Applejack’s. “See? This has turned out perfect. You didn’t have to be afraid.”
“I’m still scared a little, but …” She took a breath. “It’s a different kind’a scared that don’t feel like a bad thing. It’s excitin’.”
“I understand, I think.” Twilight sighed and closed her eyes. “Thank you for this. I’m glad we came. It answered at least one of those questions I still had.”
Applejack set the rest of her cobbler on the blanket. She sat up and turned to Twilight. Twilight met her gaze. “Was one of ‘em whether or not ya wanted to kiss me?”
Twilight smiled and closed her eyes, leaning in closer. Applejack met her. She could feel the warmth of Twilight’s coat and softness of her feathers, smell soap and shampoo mixed with fried eggplant, cobbler, and the distant earthiness of apple trees. She pulled away and cherished the ghost of Twilight’s lips against her own.
Twilight opened her eyes and gave Applejack the same small, pleased smile she shared at the castle. Applejack returned it. They pressed their shoulders together. “I answered a few other questions,” Twilight murmured.
“Are you free again tomorrow night?”
“Yes.” She rested her hoof on Applejack’s fetlock. “I can be.”
“I’d like that.”
Applejack hugged Twilight’s shoulders and held her close. They sat together in the gentle buzz of the summer night, looking out over the shadowed world. Applejack smiled and closed her eyes. She knew that what came next would be bigger, harder questions. Ones she wouldn’t have the answers for yet. Twilight would have them, too. She thought they could try and answer them together. Trying sounded frightening, more frightening than bundling those questions up would ever be, but she was going to try anyway.
It was the only answer she had to give.
Author's Note
Howdy do.
Been a while since I got to click that 'complete' box on a story. Feels good, mang.
This story was an interesting combination of joy and pain in the ass to get written and took a bit longer than I was expecting. At the end of the day, though, I'm rather happy with it, and I hope you enjoyed reading it. Thank you for checking it out, you're the best.
