Gathering the Elements

Diamond On The Rough

For years Applejack had said that the day Rarity volunteered to do farm work was the day she ate her hat. So it came as a bit of a shock when Rarity came by Sweet Apple Acres one brisk spring morning and did just that. She had asked with her usual confidence, with a flick of her hair no less, as if she were doing Applejack a favor. Applejack trailed her gaze down Rarity's body, at the finely tailored, pinstripe pants held up by suspenders over a crisp, white dress shirt. She would be right at home in a decades-old musical about corner newscolts, not so much in the middle of an apple orchard.

"What, uh, what'd you say, Rare? Ah don't think Ah heard ya right," Applejack said, dropping and taking a seat on a bale of hay meant for the pigs.

Rarity shifted her weight to the other leg, her hips swaying to complete the motion. "I said I would like to work on your farm."

A big red hand snatched Applejack's stetson hat from her head. When she turned around to retrieve it, Big Macintosh held it well away from reach. She scowled up at him, and he smirked back. He lifted up his other hand, clacked a pair of tongs, and pointed with his chin to a charcoal grill already smoking behind him. Applejack's face sank. Looks like she was gonna eat her hat sooner rather than later. It was only fair, considering that time she made him eat his boots after that incident with the oranges.

Applejack turned back to Rarity whose eyes were glued to Macintosh, cheeks flushed.

"Wh-Why is Big Macintosh here? I thought he was going to Appleoosa for a week to help Braeburn."

Applejack cocked an eyebrow. "The day Braeburn asks for help is the day a pony marries a buffalo. Who the heck fed you that gossip?"

"Pinkie Pie."

"Figures," Applejack said. "’Fraid you fell for one of her pranks, but what confuses me most, Rare, is why you even wanna work on the farm in the first place."

"If you must know," Rarity said with another flick of her hair, "I'm incorporating denim into my usual range of aesthetics, and I thought that the best way to truly understand such a working class material and make truly wonderful garments with it was to work on your farm for a bit of time."

Well, that sounded vaguely insulting enough for Applejack to take full advantage of her friend without feeling too guilty. If the mare wanted to get her hands dirty, then by all means. Not to mention Applejack might get some nice workwear out of it. Still, there was a faint ache in her gut that told her something was up. It was the way Rarity gawked at Big Macintosh as he worked on the grill. Applejack rubbed her chin. It wouldn't be the worst thing if Rarity had an interest in her brother. It was about time for him to settle down with a nice mare anyway. Honestly though, she hadn't thought that mare would be Rarity.

"Okay Rarity, if you wanna work the farm, then yer more than welcome to, with a few conditions. First, ya gotta commit to it for one month, ya hear? No matter how much you complain or how much you wanna give up, you gotta stick to it until then. Should be long enough to get yer anesthetic or whatever ya call it. You'll stay in our guestroom so you won't have any excuse to miss work.”

“Stay on Sweet Apple Acres?” Rarity gaped. “What ever for?”

“To make sure you get the genuine experience,” Applejack said with a grin. “Heck, you do a good job, we'll even pay ya...if you last the first day."

Rarity scoffed. "Honestly Applejack, it's as if you don't really believe I can do this."

Applejack tried to hold back a smirk, she really did. "Prove me wrong, Rarity."

Rarity crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh, I will, sweetie, don't you worry your little freckles about that. Fine, I’ll stay on the farm."

Applejack chuckled, but quickly turned serious as she held up two fingers. "Second, no magic."

"What! No magic? Applejack, you can't–" Rarity stopped herself midsentence. She gave Applejack a hard stare and slowly nodded.

Applejack smiled. Maybe this mare was serious after all. Course, she wouldn't be sure until the end of the first work day. "We'll be sure to give ya the easy jobs, don't worry. You could take some of Applebloom's chores. Yer stronger than Applebloom, ain't ya."

Rarity rolled her eyes. "When do I start?"

Big Macintosh appeared again with Applejack's stetson hat on a platter. Several grill marks now decorated her hat, along with sprinkles of salt and pepper. Big Mac placed the platter on Applejack's lap and departed with a bow like a maitre d’ presenting a high quality meal. Applejack sighed and took the steak knife and fork beside her hat. She sawed into the brim.

"After I finish," Applejack groaned.

"A'right, let's see," Applejack said as she leaned against the wall beside her bedroom door. She rubbed her stomach to ease the cramps. Her hat was holding a rodeo in her stomach.

"No! I refuse to be seen in this," Rarity shouted from the other side. "At least give me time to do a few alterations. You might as well have given me an old sheet to wear. At least then I could have made a somewhat passable dress."

"C'mon now, Rare, we ain't got the time. It was bad enough waitin' for ya to get yer things. We should've been cleaning the pigpen an hour ago," Applejack said. She tapped her foot and looked at her wristwatch. At this rate she would be done with her chores by midnight. Maybe later. It wasn't as if Rarity would be the most useful farmhand to have around.

Applejack clenched her teeth. Her plan to playfully humble one of her best friends was already backfiring on her. Just thinking about going through this routine everyday for a month made Applejack's stomach turn even more. She needed to think of a better way.

Big Macintosh ambled out of the bathroom, freshly showered after tilling the empty fields, shirtless with a towel on his head. Thank Celestia, it was her way out. Applejack nonchalantly made her way to him. She couldn't make it seem like she was pawning off Rarity to him, and she couldn't lie either, obviously.

"Why if it ain't my favorite brother." Not a lie, so far so good. Big Macintosh peeked out from beneath his towel, his head tilted in semi-interest. "What do ya think of Rarity?" Macintosh looked up at the ceiling in thought. After a few seconds he simply shrugged. Okay, not much to work with, couldn't play the romance card. "Could you do me a favor and take Rarity along on the rest of your chores?"

Big Macintosh sucked in his lips. His eyes widened, and he leaned over to look at a point behind her. Confused, Applejack turned her head to look over her shoulder. Big Macintosh took his chance and rushed to his bedroom. It was only through pure reflex that Applejack managed to grip his arm and pull him back to her.

"I'm just askin' ya to show her around and let her help you out. Don't you want some help? You'll get your chores done fas–" Applejack stopped as she felt her face twisting. Nope, couldn't say that. That was an obvious lie. Applejack redirected. "What do you got against Rarity anyway?"

Big Macintosh quirked an eyebrow. His posture changed. He stood tall and straight, hips swiveled to the side. He flicked his head as if flipping hair several inches longer than his own. With pursed lips and half lidded eyes, Mac's impeccable impression was complete. If it wasn't for his musclebound form and red coat, Applejack would have sworn Rarity had appeared where Macintosh once stood.

"Okay, okay, Ah get it. So she's a little...fancy, that's somethin' to be admi–" Applejack had to stop before her face betrayed her fib. "Ah mean, that ain't any reason to think less of her. Why, Ah'm sure y'all'll get along fine."

Big Macintosh frowned, and Applejack rolled her eyes. She didn't want to bring out the big guns this soon, but it looked like she had no choice. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The saddest thoughts she could think of swam through her mind. Applebloom getting married and moving away. Big Macintosh winding up old and alone. Granny Smith passing on. Yup, that one did it. Slowly, Applejack opened her eyes, now watering, and looked up at Big Macintosh.

"Please, big brother, it'd mean so much to me."

Big Macintosh bit into his knuckles. He looked away, but it was too late. His head inched up and down in a nod.

Applejack took her chance and ran down the stairs. Oh wait! Rarity. She had almost forgot. She dashed back up and knocked on her bedroom door. "Rarity, Big Macintosh is gonna handle ya today so just follow him. Okay, thanks, bye." Applejack practically leapt down the stairs and headed out the door to complete her chores. Poor Mac, she almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

"Applejack? What did you say? Was it something about Big Macintosh?" Rarity called out from the bedroom. There was no answer. With a frustrated growl, Rarity adjusted the shorts and t-shirt Applejack gave her to try on. They sagged, everywhere. The sleeves, the chest, the hips, the butt, they all drooped off Rarity's more petite frame. This outfit being Applejack's, it was meant for more muscular physiques.

Rarity hummed in thought and raised her arm to tense her bicep. Imagine, the elegant and lovely Rarity, with the strength and muscles of someone like Applejack. A part of her thought she might enjoy having such an obviously intimidating figure. Who would dare look down on her when she could crush their head with her thighs, and not in a good way. She chuckled softly to herself. No, she was intimidating in her own way, and at most she would be happy with just a bit of tone. She would leave the bulk to the Apple family. Even Granny Smith still looked like she could toss a pony straight across Sweet Apple Acres. And Applejack had her admirers, mostly more wispish stallions and mares.

Not to mention Big Macintosh. Where would she even start to describe that wall of muscle? Parading around Ponyville shirtless all day, yet having the gall to remain completely professional and kind to everyone he met. What's worse was the simple fact that she was physically attracted to him. Very much so. An attraction that shot right past 'naive crush' and crash landed into 'burning lust'. Now usually, when faced with such attraction, she would simply seduce the mare or stallion and be on her merry way, but Macintosh being Applejack's brother complicated matters. She had hoped that working on her fashion designs would distract her.

"I swear the next time I see Pinkie..." Rarity growled under her breath. Well, there was nothing that could be done now. If she were to cancel her engagement on the farm, Applejack would think she was giving up before even a day's worth of work. And she absolutely could not deal with Applejack's smugness, and a gaff like this would be worth a week, maybe more. For Celestia's sake, Applejack still wouldn't shut up about how she was right after that cider incident. And that was several seasons ago.

No, she was a lady, and a lady kept her word and controlled her baser desires. It would be fine. All she had to do was avoid being around Macintosh. It would be simple, especially with clothes like these. Rarity looked down at her outfit. Macintosh surely wouldn't show any interest in her while wearing such ill-fitting clothing.

Rarity took a deep breath. She couldn't stall any longer. It was time for her debut. Well, there was nothing to be done with her outfit. It would take her an hour to get them to fit properly and at least another hour to put some style into such problematically pragmatic attire. She would have to fix them that night. Until then, she might as well own these baggy monstrosities. Rarity gripped the knob and mentally prepared herself. She closed her eyes, opened the door, and stepped out.

"I know, I know," Rarity said, stretching her arms out to her sides. "You wish you could make this outfit look this amazing." She opened her eyes and was surprised to see only Big Macintosh, wearing nothing but denim jeans and a stalk of wheat, leaning against the opposite wall. Rarity's usually pearly cheeks turned as crimson as Macintosh, and her arms fell. "Wh-Where's Applejack?"

Big Mac swept his arm in a large arc that seemed to encompass the entirety of Sweet Apple Acres. It didn't take a genius to interpret it.

"She's out on the farm." Rarity's shoulders sagged. "And I suppose she left me in your care?"

"Eeyup," Macintosh said, rolling his sprig of wheat to the other side of his mouth.

Rarity took another deep breath. Okay. This was fine. A slight change of plans, that was all. She could handle this. She looked over at Macintosh. He was shirtless as always. That wouldn't do. She couldn't focus under such conditions. "Macintosh, for the love of Celestia, put on a shirt."

Macintosh frowned and went to his room. A minute later he came out with a t-shirt that strained to contain him.

Rarity sighed. "Well, I suppose it's better than–"

Macintosh interrupted with a raise of his hand, palm toward Rarity. He raised both arms and flexed. The shirt ripped to shreds.

Rarity slapped her hand on her forehead, careful to avoid her horn. "Well then put on a bigger shirt!"

Macintosh tilted his head. Again he went into his bedroom, but this time he came out with a large flannel long-sleeve that hid his muscles well. Rarity smiled, but that smile slowly faded as Macintosh curled his arms again. A burst of wind rushed past Rarity. Nothing but bits of string remained on Mac's shoulders.

"Who makes your shirts!?" Rarity screamed. "Go back in there and find something, anything! I don't care what."

Macintosh slumped his shoulders and headed back into his room. He came out with a raincoat that fell into folds on the floor. It covered him from nose to toes, and even the sleeves reached past his arms.

"Good! Good." Rarity wiped her brow in relief. "Now let's go and–"

Macintosh crouched.

"Don't you dare."

He brought his shoulders forward.

"No."

He curled his arms, hands clasped together in front of his stomach.

"No, no, no, no, no!"

The coat burst like a balloon and completely vaporized. Not a stitch, not one scrap of cloth, remained. Rarity propped herself on the wall and slowly slid down to sit, dazed, on the floor. It was no use. His muscles were simply too powerful to be contained by normal fabric. Big Macintosh crouched beside her to check on her health, and Rarity quickly pushed him away. She tried to ignore how solid his chest felt.

"Fine. Fine!" Rarity got back on her feet, though she wobbled a bit before fully finding her balance. "If the universe wishes to oggle you shirtless, then who am I to argue?"

Macintosh nodded and led the way down the stairs. It was then that Rarity vowed to one day create a shirt strong enough to contain Big Macintosh's muscles. She didn't care how long it would take nor how much work she had to devote. One day, she would contain those pecs. Perhaps then he wouldn't stop foot traffic every time he took a walk into Ponyville.

Big Macintosh walked as if he had forgotten his destination. Once outside he would constantly look around the farm, looking for something but never finding it. He took her to the barn and grabbed four wicker baskets, large, round, and tall, and two pairs of hard, leather gloves. He gave a pair of gloves to Rarity and wandered down one of the many dirt paths across Sweet Apple Acres.

Rarity looked at him, eyebrows raised, and wondered if he even knew where he was going. She started putting on the gloves, but stopped when she caught sight of them from the corner of her eye. They were stained and soiled beyond belief, and only a few splotches of the original yellow leather peaked through the thickly caked black dirt. Holes and rips pierced and ran through the gloves.

Rarity grimaced. As if being dirty wasn't enough, they looked completely useless at protecting her hands. Rarity jogged to catch up to Macintosh.

"Big Macintosh!" Rarity called out. Macintosh stopped and turned to face Rarity's quick approach. She held out the gloves to him with their cuffs hanging between her fingernails. "I can't possibly wear these. Surely you must have a cleaner...newer...pair..." Rarity's gaze trailed down to Macintosh's hands. Hands that held an immaculate pair of work gloves. The soft, yellow leather glimmered in the sunlight.

Rarity’s eyes sparked with an idea. "Macintosh, sweetie, darling, could you please exhange gloves with me?" Rarity fluttered her eyelashes and put on her best smile. "These gloves are dirty and ripped, surely they're not suited for work, and they're especially not suited for me. So won't you please give me yours? I would be ever so grateful."

Macintosh brought his hands behind his back, hiding the gloves from her. Rarity huffed. Fine. If he wanted to play hard to get, then she would happily oblige. She sidled up to him and placed her left hand daintily on his chest. Her other hand wrapped around to the small of his back, close to the hand holding the coveted pair of gloves. Rarity's face flushed as she felt both solid muscle and the heat emanating from it. She had to do this quick before it backfired on her.

"Macintosh, have I ever told you just how much I adore the color of your coat? So bold. So dramatic. So unique. You know, red is my absolute favorite color."

Macintosh tilted his head. "Yer favorite color's sapphire blue."

"What?" Rarity took a step back. "How did you know that?"

Macintosh shrugged, unwilling to give up the information.

Rarity shook her head. She had lost focus so easily. Well, if he didn't give in to her flirtiness nor her pure animal magnetism, then she would have to utilize a more direct approach. Rarity dropped her grungy pair of mitts and held out her hand. "Give them to me."

"Nnope."

"Macintosh, now!"

Macintosh held his gloves tightly to his chest and shook his head.

Rarity leapt in a desperate lunge to snatch the gloves from Mac's hands. He was too quick and thrust his arm up into the air, far above her reach. But she was not going to let a few feet get in her way. Her horn glowed, and the gloves were engulfed in blue light.

Rarity tried to pull them away, but Macintosh's grip was too tight. They wouldn't budge. Fine. Magic be damned. She didn't care how she got them, she would get them. She jumped to reach them, but her fingers barely grazed the gloves. She grunted with each leap, but got no closer. She stopped once out of breath and doubled over, arms propped on knees. What was she doing? This was not how a lady should act.

Rarity cleared her throat and straightened. She patted her clothes free of imaginary dust and placed her hands on her hips. "Very well, Big Macintosh, if you will not give me the gloves, then I can't possibly work today." She pivoted on her right foot, back facing Macintosh, and walked away.

A pair of work gloves was hardly worth the trouble nor the degradation. She huffed with every step. That Macintosh, she swore, it was as if he couldn't appreciate the beauty in front of him. What gave him the right to deny her what she wanted? It was the clothes, wasn't it? Oh, if she had her usual attire she would have had him on his knees begging for her to take those gloves from him.

Rarity shook her head. Right now it was best to just forget about all this unpleasantness. At the very least, Macintosh must be feeling quite distressed as well. The thought made her feel immensely better. As a matter of fact, she wouldn't be surprised if he was on his way to catch up to her right this very moment. Rarity smiled and turned around to see the guilty look on his face.

He was walking the opposite way.

Rarity growled and clenched her fists. She bolted toward him like a cheetah on the hunt. She leapt onto his back before he even had a chance to turn around.

"Give me those gloves!"

Her attack made Macintosh stumble forward, but he kept to his feet and held his right arm high above his head, gripping the gloves. Rarity climbed onto his shoulders, thighs squeezing his head, and tried her damndest to pry open his fingers. No matter how hard she pulled, his fingers wouldn't loosen. He had a grip like a vice. With no other option, she bit into his fingers, hoping the pain would force his hand open. Macintosh didn't react. In fact, he didn't do anything to fight back. He just kept walking, hand raised, no doubt thinking about the work ahead of him. His nonchalant demeanor only made her bite harder.

"Rarity! What in the heck are ya doin' to my brother?"

Rarity froze. A stream of drool flowing down Macintosh's arm. Applejack stood in Macintosh's way, a deep scowl carved on her face. She leaned forward, fists on hips, and glared at Rarity. Rarity gulped and slid off Macintosh. She took two steps toward Applejack and hung her head, only to snap it back up and point at Big Macintosh.

"It was all his fault, Applejack! He started it. He pushed these completely disgusting gloves on me and kept the immaculate ones for himself, and when I asked, politely I might add, to trade, he wouldn't do it. Oh it was awful. Completely terrible."

Applejack pinched the bridge of her nose. "Gloves? That's what's got ya all riled up? Rarity, are you five?" Applejack walked past her and up to her big brother. She held her hand out, and Big Macintosh gave her the gloves. She examined them and rolled her eyes. "Well of course he didn't give 'em to ya. They're his gloves. They wouldn't even fit ya." Applejack grabbed Rarity's hand and slapped the gloves onto it.

"What?" Rarity looked down at the gloves. They did look rather...large up close and without the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She put them on, and they hung off her hands like a blanket ready to slip away at any moment. Rarity's cheeks turned hot. "Well...how embarrassing." Rarity took off the gloves and held them out to Big Macintosh. He took them, gave her a nod, and replaced the gloves with the blackened ones Rarity had dropped on the ground earlier. He continued down the path as if nothing had happened.

"Next time, just ask 'im why he won't give 'em to you," Applejack said. "Lotta folks think he ain't much for talkin', but that ain't the entire truth." She patted Rarity's shoulder. "Talk is talk. Doin' is doin'. You wanna get closer to Mac, be direct." She gave Rarity a wink. "Now get to work, Ah ain't payin' ya to stand around lookin' pretty."

Rarity raised an eyebrow, she stared as Applejack walked away to continue her own work. Did Applejack know of Rarity's feelings toward Macintosh? No, that couldn't possibly be it. If she really knew the nature of Rarity's attraction, she would definitely not approve. Perhaps Applejack had the sense but not the details.

Rarity shook her head. She had dwelled enough on it, and instead of thinking of it further, she focused on catching up to Macintosh. She slipped on the gloves, doing her best to ignore the rough grime icing the leather. She caught up to him, and as she walked beside him she couldn't help but feel a bit of tense air between them. Of course, Macintosh seemed as calm as ever, elbows up, hands behind his head, half-lidded gaze staring blissfully at the sky. Rarity couldn't help but feel a little jealous at his ease.

What had come over her? Her usually calm and collected demeanor had fallen to the wayside. All over a pair of gloves. She cringed just thinking about it. Rarity looked over at him. Perhaps it was the heat of the sun, except it was a mild spring day. Was it because it was Macintosh that kept the gloves from her? Was it because he hadn’t given them to her even when she flirted with him?

"So Macintosh," Rarity said, hoping to relieve some of the tension she felt, "are those gloves new?"

"Nnope," Mac drawled. "Ah just wash 'em e'ry time Ah use 'em."

"I must be honest, Macintosh, I never thought of you the type to worry about cleanliness."

Mac shrugged. "You let dirt slick up yer work gloves yer gonna lose grip."

Rarity said nothing and only nodded. She didn't really know where to go next with the conversation. Thankfully, Macintosh stopped in front of a couple of fields before Rarity could offer anything to the discussion. In one field, large, silky shrubs towered over green stalks poking out of the ground in the distinct shape of asparagus. In the second, large weeds absolutely covered the dirt.

Macintosh set down the two wicker baskets. He looked at Rarity and pointed behind him with his thumb at a wooden shed painted white. Pinned on the door was a poster advertising Ponyville's farmer's market every Saturday at noon. Rarity's mind clicked immediately. Today was Saturday, and they were going to harvest these fields to provide fresh vegetables for the Apple family to sell. Wait, but what time was it? Rarity reached for her pocketwatch before remembering that she left them in her other pants.

Macintosh tapped her shoulder and held up two fingers. Rarity raised an eyebrow. Had he seen her reach for her watch? Was he telling her two o' clock? No, that couldn't be it, otherwise it would already be too late. Did he mean two hours? It really couldn't mean anything else, unless he was showing off his desire for world peace.

"Well then," Rarity said. "I suppose we should get started."

Macintosh nodded, crouched, and started snapping the stalks of asparagus close to the soil line and placed them gently in his basket. Rarity leaned over him to watch him work for a few minutes. It didn't seem too hard, just snapping off the stalks. Once she felt comfortable enough with the process she crouched down beside Macintosh and mimicked his movements.

It took a while for her to find the best way to snap the spears. She had to use two hands to consistently made a clean break. Macintosh, in contrast, moved in well-practiced motions.With every spear she harvested, Macintosh put five in his basket. Rarity had only crouched for thirty minutes by the time Macintosh finished the rest of the field.

Without a break he moved on to the field of weeds. Except they were not weeds as Rarity first thought, but carrots. Macintosh carried the basket beneath one arm and pulled carrots out of the ground two at a time. Rarity hurried to the field and tried her best to keep up, but soon she fell well behind. Could anyone blame her? After all, she was used to designing not manual labor.

Now Macintosh, there was a pony built for manual labor. His muscles tightened with every motion, no matter how slight. His coat was damp with sweat, and he wore a content smile as he strained. Work was a good look on him. Rarity caught herself gawking and shook her head. Come now, there was work to be done.

Soon, Rarity's arms, back, and legs ached. The heat of the sun, even one a breezy spring day, made her drenched in sweat. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and gasped at the black smudges that stained her tee. Her makeup was running. This was miserable work, but there was no way she would stop. She might be elegant and high-class, but that didn't mean she was some wispy dandy unafraid of labor. Besides, the last thing she needed was a smug Applejack giving her an 'I told you so'. And so Rarity pressed on despite the fatigue.

By the time they finished, Rarity could hardly stand. She fell to sit beneath the shade of a nearby apple tree. She took in deep breaths of air, hoping to cool down, but it didn't help. Macintosh held out a canteen to her, and she took it gratefully. She gulped down the ice cold water and sighed in relief.

Macintosh crouched beside her and gave her a firm pat on the back. He smiled at her, and Rarity didn't dare look into his emerald eyes for fear of burning her cheeks. Instead she focused on his freckles. That didn't help matters. Macintosh seemed to notice Rarity's slight discomfort and stood. He took the baskets, two brims gripped in each hand, and walked to the shed, and the sound of running water soon came from there. Rarity sat for a few more minutes listening to the water.

What a lovely smile he had given her. Her cheeks turned a light tinge of red, and Rarity leaned back with a soft sigh escaping from her lips. The fields had completely exhausted her, and yet she felt ready to go out there again and continue working. When she looked out at those empty fields she helped harvest, she felt a wonderful sense of satisfaction almost as great and fulfilling as bringing one of her designs to life. She looked at her arm and flexed. How far could she go? After all, she had done only a fraction of the work Macintosh did.

"So how was it?"

Rarity almost leapt out of her coat as Applejack appeared beside her. "Applejack! Goodness, you scared me half to death."

Applejack grinned. "Not the fancy half Ah hope." Applejack chuckled at her own dumb joke. She crouched down to Rarity’s level and took out a handkerchief from her pocket. “Ya want me to wipe that makeup off ya?”

“Not all of it,” Rarity said, “just enough to make it look perfect again.”

Applejack chuckled nervously. “Aw heck, Ah’ll try but no promises.” Applejack dabbed Rarity’s cheeks. “You should ask Applebloom or Big Macintosh to do this next time. They’re good with makeup.”

Rarity burst into laughter. “Macintosh knows how to apply makeup? I would have never imagined.”

“Oh sure,” Applejack said. “Applebloom loved playin’ dress up when she was little. Ah remember the three of us would play it all the time. Applebloom would always wanna wear mama’s makeup. Of course, it was off limits, but Mac always sneaked some foundation or eyeliner or mascara for her.” Applejack finished wiping Rarity’s face and pocketed the handkerchief.

Applejack leaned against the apple tree and pinched her chin in thought as she looked at Rarity. Rarity pressed her lips into a tight line, she didn't like the look Applejack was giving her. She had a thoughtful frown and a furrowed brow, yet her eyes still sparkled with humor.

"Rarity, Ah think it's time we had the talk."

"Oh Applejack, I'm flattered you think me so young and innocent," Rarity said with a chuckle.

"Not that one." Applejack rolled her eyes. "The talk a mare has when one of her best friends is interested in her brother."

Rarity scoffed. "Me? Interested in Big Macintosh? No offense, Applejack, but I would call him the same thing I would call a dry champagne. Just look back at this entire glove fiasco, if that doesn't convince you that I do not have any feelings for Big Macintosh, then I don't know what will."

"C'mon now, Rare. We both know that if it were any other stallion you woulda cut them to pieces with that sharp tongue of yours, and Ah ain't ever seen ya lose yer cool like that unless it was about one of yer designs."

"That doesn't prove a thing," Rarity said quickly.

Applejack remained silent for a few seconds as she stared at Rarity. "So you ain't got any plans on courtin' my brother?"

"None."

Applejack shrugged. "Alright, if ya say so, Rare. Ah'll let ya get back to work, but before Ah do Ah wanna give ya some advice." She grabbed Rarity’s shoulder with a bit more force than necessary, and Applejack gave her a smile so sweet that just looking at it made Rarity's teeth ache. "If you go behind my back, Ah'll dropkick ya into the moon."

Rarity forced a smile and a nervous laugh, and Applejack joined in. She stood up and headed for the shed. She knocked on the door and the running water stopped. Macintosh walked out with a tall stack of long, shallow baskets filled bundles of washed and trimmed carrots and asparagus. He dropped the stack onto Applejack's waiting arms, and she said something to Mac before taking the vegetables toward the barn, no doubt the veggies’ final stop before heading off to the farmer's market.

Big Macintosh retreated back inside the shed and came out seconds later rolling a wheelbarrow in front of him. He strode up to Rarity, stopped, and covered his mouth to hold back laughter.

“What?” Rarity said with an angry blush. “Is it something on my…” Rarity trailed off as she touched her cheeks. Macintosh tightened his lips to keep his giggles contained, and reached into his pocket for his pocketwatch. He threw it to her.

Inside, Rarity found a mirror, and she gasped at the racoon that stared back at her. She swore she would get Applejack back for this. As Rarity thought of the best method of revenge, Macintosh crouched in front of her and offered her his handkerchief. Rarity took it gratefully and had her makeup fixed within three minutes.

Macintosh stood back up and used his thumb to point behind him. Rarity stood as well, ready to go to her next assignment. She saw the pairs of hatchets and axes inside the wheelbarrow and actually smiled. She frowned at her own reaction. What in the world was coming over her?

She followed Macintosh through Sweet Apple Acres and tried to enjoy the view, but Applejack's words tumbled in her mind all the while. Her words were typical of an overprotective sister, and it wasn't the first time Rarity was given such a talk.

Did Applejack have anything to worry about? Well, honestly Rarity didn't even know anymore. She was attracted to Macintosh on a physical level, but besides his physique the only exceptional thing about him was his ability to get under her skin. She thought about the work glove fiasco, and her cheeks burned. Usually she could have melted any stallion into doing her bidding, but not Macintosh.

It was absolutely annoying.

Big Macintosh stopped the wheelbarrow in a small copse of trees in a far off part of Sweet Apple Acres. No leaves or flowers decorated the branches despite the season, and each tree stood gnarled and ragged. They looked almost centuries old, and Rarity surmised that these were the trees they would cut down. Five trees. Not a terrible number. Rarity just hoped the work would go by quickly. She grabbed an axe and went to the nearest tree, but Mac stopped her with a calloused hand on her shoulder.

Macintosh approached the tree Rarity had walked towards. He closed his eyes and clasped his hands together. Rarity couldn't help but feel a little touched by the gesture. The Apple family made their living from the apple trees. Was it so strange for Macintosh to show a little gratitude? Rarity supposed he felt the same way about the trees that she felt toward a bolt of silk.

Big Macintosh stopped giving thanks and took a few steps closer to the tree. He wrapped his arms around the trunk in a hug, and Rarity raised an eyebrow. Okay, that might be a little much.

The tree's roots cracked the ground as Macintosh removed the tree from the dirt, clumps of soil showering the earth below. He crouched down and rested the tree gently on the ground. He did the same with the other four, leaving five large holes where the trees once stood.

Rarity smirked. "Are you trying to impress me?" she asked with a flutter of eyelashes.

Macintosh shrugged. He grabbed a hatchet and started hacking off the branches off one of the trees. Rarity took the other hatchet and went to help, but Macintosh raised his hand to stop her.

"Watch and learn," he said.

Rarity crossed her arms. "What?” Rarity said through clenched teeth. “Big Macintosh Apple, don't you dare underestimate me."

He ignored her and went back to work. Rarity huffed, but did nothing. If he wanted to wear himself out showing off his machismo, then let him. What did she care?

In a matter of minutes he hacked off the branches of the tree, cut them into somewhat uniform sizes, and stacked them neatly into the wheelbarrow. That only left the thick, tall trunk. He switched to an axe and made quick work of the trunk as well. It took all of an hour to reduce the tree to firewood. He wiped his brow free of sweat and leaned against the wheelbarrow. He pointed to Rarity and then to one of the trees on the ground.

Rarity stared at him and then at the hatchet in her hand. "You want me to do the next tree by myself?"

"Eeyup."

"Wouldn't it go faster if we break down the tree together?"

"Eeyup."

"Then why are you leaving it to me, especially after not letting me help with the first tree?"

Macintosh rolled his stalk of wheat to the other side of his mouth and held her gaze with his own emerald eyes. "You wanna to see how much grit you got, don't ya?"

Rarity raised an eyebrow. How did he manage to read her so well? She kept her eyes on him as she went to the next tree and crouched down beside the trunk. Just like before, Macintosh had made the work look easy. Rarity managed to chop away at a slow but even pace. The trunk was much more difficult, the axe much more unwieldy. With every swing her arm burned and screamed for her to stop. She did not.

Macintosh whistled between her swings, and Rarity stopped to look at him. He came up to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. He squared them off to the trunk, and used his foot to widen her stance. Rarity blushed as Macintosh enclosed her hands to hold the axe. He slid her right hand closer to the head of the axe, her other hand closer to the butt.

Rarity blushed to her ears as Macintosh brought his body closer to her, chest to her back, hips touching hips. Honestly, she had imagined them in a situation like this before, but she always thought it would be while they danced or played golf or tennis. Something she had read about in romance novels.

He went through a full, slow swing with her, and as the axe lowered Macintosh slid both their right hands to meet their left. After the small lesson, Macintosh patted her shoulder and went back to the wheelbarrow to fetch the other axe and hatchet to work on the other trees.

Rarity stared at him. He did that on purpose, didn't he? Surely his little axe lesson was more than just an axe lesson; it was a sly attempt to fluster her. Rarity watched as Macintosh took a whetstone from his pocket and started sharpening the tools. She rolled her eyes and focused back on the tree. Oh what was she saying? This was Big Macintosh she was talking about. As if he would ever be debonair and charming enough to pull off a stunt like that.

Macintosh's lesson made each swing feel easier, but despite the added momentum to her swings, Rarity took much longer to break down a tree. She still didn’t stop.

The lower curve of the sun touched the horizon as Rarity set down the axe and sat on the soft grass. Chopped wood surrounded her, and for the second time that day she was completely exhausted. She smiled as she lay back and stared at the sky. She had done it. She had reduced an entire tree to firewood. Never had she thought such an act would make her feel happy, yet here she was, smiling like an idiot.

Big Macintosh towered over her, and he held a brown, glass bottle out to her. Rarity sat up. When had he gone to fetch this? She took the bottle and it chilled her hand like ice. Macintosh sat beside her with his own bottle.

Rarity twisted off the bottlecap and took a sniff of the drink. Cider. The Apple family's special reserve no doubt. She took a sip, and the freezing drink did wonders for her parched throat. She looked around and noticed that Macintosh had made quick work of the final three trees and stacked the wood beside the wheelbarrow. She sighed and took another sip.

Macintosh followed her gaze. "You did good," he said. "Don't think Ah'd do half as good makin' a dress as you did choppin' up a tree."

Rarity chuckled. "How sweet of you to say." She wasn't surprised at Macintosh's statement. Fashion design required more skill than lumberjacking did, but Rarity wasn't going to say that out loud. "I'm a little surprised, however, at how...good it felt to do such manual labor."

Macintosh nodded. "It feels good to do somethin' with yer own hands, with yer own strength." He took a large gulp from his bottle and then pressed it against the side of his head. "You use your hands or magic to make an outfit?"

Rarity was taken aback by the question, mostly because she never expected him to show any interest in her work. "A little bit of both, I suppose. When I first started it was about half and half. As I grew in both fame and skill I favored magic more and more, I could manage more intricate patterns with much less time."

Macintosh nodded and finished the rest of his cider. He got back on his feet and started stacking the wood from Rarity's tree. She watched him for a while, sipping at her sweet cider.

Just what was he doing to her?

Of course aprons would be immune to Macintosh's muscles, especially frilly pink ones. Rarity, freshly showered and changed, sat quietly next to Applejack as Macintosh served dinner. Applejack leaned back in her seat, fanning herself with another stetson hat, beads of sweat on her forehead.

“Are you all right?” Rarity asked.

“Doin’ a lot better now, just came out of the bathroom.” Applejack gave her a sheepish smile and raised her new hat. “Son of a gun went out about as well as it went in.”

Rarity scoffed. “Applejack, please! We’re about to eat.”

“Hey, you asked,” Applejack said. “Food smells good though, an’ Ah’m starvin’.”

Rarity rolled her eyes as Macintosh set down a plate in front of her. Rarity stared at the sliced pork tenderloin atop a bed of mushroom risotto with a drizzle of red wine and apple cider reduction. It looked absolutely impeccable, like a meal she would order at a fine restaurant in Canterlot.

Rarity waited for one of the Apples to say something, anything, about such a fine meal, but they never did. Instead they dug right in, passing around a large serving bowl of roasted carrots and asparagus. Macintosh smiled as he removed the apron and took a seat at one end of the table right across from Granny Smith.

"So," Rarity began, if no one was going to mention the meal then she would have to. "Macintosh, you made such an...impressive supper. Any special reason?" It would make sense. A quiet, lonesome farmer trying to impress the high class socialite with a four star meal. Perhaps she had been wrong about him after all.

"Aw heck, Mac always makes these fancy-shmancy meals when it's his turn to cook," Applejack said. "Last week he made steak, uh, what was it called, big brother?"

"Filet mignon."

"Yeah that. It was mighty tasty Ah gotta say."

"Sure was, so tender Ah could eat it without my dentures," Granny Smith said with a cackle. "Ain't surprised, though. Ah'm the one that taught 'im. Course, he was a good student too."

"So, big brother, how was workin' with Rarity?" Applejack asked with a less-than-innocent smile. "She handle the farmwork okay?"

Macintosh said nothing and only gave Applejack a thumbs up, and she raised her eyebrows in response.

"A thumbs up?" Applejack shot Rarity a smile. "Highest praise Mac ever gives without sayin' a word. You must've really made an impression on 'im."

Rarity wiped her mouth with a napkin in an attempt to hide her blush. "Well, it wasn't as if I was trying to," she said. If anyone needed to impress anyone, it was Macintosh that needed to impress her. She took a forkful of risotto and ate. It was delicious, absolutely divine. She scowled at her plate, trying her best not to let on how much she loved it.

The conversation around the dining room table went on at a gentle pace. Applebloom talked about school, and Granny Smith, Applejack, and Big Macintosh talked about the coming day's chores. Rarity quietly ate her meal and listened intently. There was a very good chance she would be doing these chores.

After the meal, Macintosh cleared away the table, and Applejack patted Rarity's shoulder.

"C'mon, Ah'll show ya to yer room," she said.

Rarity nodded and followed Applejack upstairs where the bedrooms were. She led Rarity to the end of the hallway and opened one of the doors. The luggage Rarity retrieved that morning was stacked by the bed. The bed itself was modest, not exactly as luxurious as the four-poster she had back home, and definitely not as big. An upright piano stood against the opposite wall, and an easel was tucked into a corner, a canvas stretched across its surface. There was a heavy wooden desk beside the door, large enough to hold both a typewriter and a sewing machine with plenty of empty space between them.

Rarity went to the piano and pecked a few keys. "What an interesting room."

"Yup, we sorta use it as an arts and crafts room. We actually got some fabric in the dresser over there. Nothing fancy, just some denim and cotton and some scraps of old clothes." Applejack patted Rarity's back. "Feel free to decorate, yer gonna be here for a month after all."

"How generous," Rarity said dryly. Well, the room could certainly have been worse. At least she could work on her denim designs while she stayed here.

"Ah'll leave ya to it then," Applejack said. She gave Rarity a pat on the back. "Rest up for tomorrow." She left the room and closed the door behind her, leaving Rarity to her own devices.

Rarity sighed and sat down at the desk. She closed her eyes and held the side of her head in her hand. It had been a long day. Her horn glowed and her luggage opened. Her sewing supplies levitated toward her. Rarity took her work clothes (Granny Smith had been kind enough to wash them before dinner) and hovered them in front of her.

She knew her measurements by heart, but just before her floating scissors cut into the fabric, Rarity stopped. She leaned back into her chair and stared at the ceiling. She rubbed her temple, and her magic stopped. She grabbed the scissors and her hand-me-down shorts and got to work.