The Low Notes

by Storm Butt

Rating: everyone
Tags: Caramel, Big Macintosh, Slice of Life, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 4044

Troy asks Big Macintosh for some pointers on how to hit the low notes like he can while singing. During this session, he reveals that the director of Bridleway has been harassing him based on his looks not matching his body. Big Macintosh relates.

After a little private showing of Big Macintosh and the rest of The Ponytones, Troy the gryphon stops him outside to ask him if he'll help him sing lower pitch. While attempting to help, Troy simply becomes more flustered and admits that the director of his Bridleway show constantly reinstates that his tone is too high for his appearance. Big Macintosh relates, having always been too big for his age so to speak. The two have a conversation about it.

A gift for TheVClaw for his birthday. <3

Edited by Vivid Syntax.

Published 2016-10-25 04:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2016-10-25 04:10:01 UTC

The Low Notes

“Bum bum ba da da dum dum,” Big Macintosh sung in his deepest tone possible, which, to be honest, wasn’t too far off from his normal speaking tone. He sat with his hoof outstretched in the air at about half a foreleg’s reach, going deeper with each note until he was at the bottom of his vocal capabilities. He tried to force out the sounds from his chest, not his throat, but even still he could feel the vocal cords in his thick neck vibrate the louder he got. He coughed afterwards, tugging on the neck of his teal cardigan and white dress shirt before giving his body a bit of a shake.

“Ya’ catch that?” Big Macintosh questioned, turning his eyes to the gryphon in front of him. It wasn’t exactly unusual for ponies, especially those he would consider friends, to greet him after the curtain call of his little show with the Ponytones, but to see Troius Clawston greet him in the back of Sugarcube Corner was a surprise. Troy, to the best of Big Macintosh’s knowledge, was on Bridleway as a singer. It didn’t only feel alien to be explaining something as basic as this to somepony… er… somebody who was clearly more experienced than him, but also felt strange due to the lost look on the gryphon’s face.

“Uh…” Troy muttered, glancing away, taking his claw to his beak, and squeezing as though to massage it with his avian-like fingers. “I think so?”

Big Macintosh frowned, though it wasn’t very noticeable unless Troy had been staring at the shape of his lips. He had managed to keep his eyes blank and face stone-like while still frowning ever so slightly. Troy however was looking at the ground. The smell of sweets in the air was distracting–Big Mac’s show with Rarity and the others had been nothing more than a little favor to the Cakes to help attract customers. Even in the back of the establishment where there weren’t any stoves or fridges filled with goodies, the scent was in the air. In fact there wasn’t much back here except the stairway leading to the top of the building where the Cakes and Pinkie Pie both slept near a few boxes of newly shipped baking goods that nobody had yet to open. The others had already left, yet Big Macintosh had been stopped by Troy while he was in the middle of wondering just where he wanted to go for lunch.

“Try it,” Big Macintosh pushed once Troy had been quiet for several minutes.

“Um… alright…” Troy said with a slight nod and a smirk that displayed an unusual amount of cockiness which didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was a clear sign that he was faking it in some way or at least trying to put on a brave face.

“Bum bum… ba da da… dum dum,” Troy’s voice started smooth and higher pitched, the kind of tone Big Macintosh had expected from somebody on Bridleway. With every pitch lower he tried to go past a certain threshold, however, his voice seemed to crack slightly or feel forced with a strained look on the gryphon’s face as he tried to emulate the sheer amount of depth that Big Macintosh commanded with ease. The cockiness of his expression faded, and a blush hit his cheeks when he glanced away.

“Crap,” Troy grumbled, one of his claws on the floor, tapping impatiently. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking right. I can do this, I swear.”

“Mmm,” Big Macintosh grunted as he glanced up to one of the lightbulbs in the ceiling before rubbing at the back of his neck with his hoof. His own throat was already tired from singing earlier, and the last thing he had expected to do was try to give lessons like this. “Your singin’ is pretty darn fine. Ya’ just keep tryin’ to hit those low notes. Ya’ sound much better when you just sing normally an’ don’t try to force it.”

“Yeah, that’s what Canvas said,” Troy muttered once more, though this time he sounded almost bitter. He bit at the inside of his cheek and then glanced to Big Macintosh. “But I know I can do this, I just need… I dunno, practice? Coaching?”

Big Macintosh felt his frown deepen again.

“Try this,” Big Macintosh said. “Sing the lowest ya’ll can without strainin’ yourself.”

“Alright,” Troy said with a nod. He took in a breath and then coughed to clear his throat before straightening his shoulders and trying to stand up as tall as he could. “Everypony’s sayin’ you should learn to express your voice.”

The way Troy sung was no doubt deep in tone, though it was undoubtedly clear that there was a stark difference in the tone difference between the two. Despite the fact that the gryphon was just as big, if not bigger, than Mac, his voice was just higher pitched. It was less bass-like and more akin to that of a slow but gentle melody. When Troy had stopped singing he looked flustered in a sense, for his last few notes once more he had tried to push as his voice began to crack and strain. The feathers around his neck fluffed slightly, and he grumbled.

“This is so stupid,” Troy grunted with a shake of his head.

“Why do you want this so much?” Big Macintosh asked. It had been a question weighing on him for some time now. “Your voice is fine, better than mine. You’re on Bridleway and all.”

Troy looked away, a bit of a distant look in his eyes for a moment as though he were contemplating how to approach the subject. He sat down slowly on the hardwood floor, as he had been pacing for the past several moments, and frowned before shaking his head slowly.

“I have this big solo on Bridleway coming up,” Troy said when he looked to Big Macintosh. “This is a really big play, and I got one of those roles that ponies just dream of getting. But the director keeps telling me my voice isn’t deep enough for the… emotion or whatever.”

Troy was frowning when he looked away.

“All the other stallions who got this role before didn’t sing as deep,” Troy said, his tone nearly that of mockery. “He keeps saying a deeper tone would just… fit me better. He says it for all of my singing, actually.”

Big Macintosh questioned with a raise of his brow. “What show is it?”

“It’s uh… Jekyll and Hyde. It’s an older play but it’s kind of my first time doing a known show like this. It’s based on a book, but then they did a musical and now it’s coming around again.” Troy shrugged as he flapped his large eagle-like wings and fluttered himself up and around Big Macintosh to land on the creaking staircase. He hung his upper half over the rail to stare down with that same somber expression on his face. “There’s this really big emotional number right before the middle act, and it’s a solo, and the director keeps saying that I’m not… fitting the part as well as he thought.”

Troy grumbled and shrugged at his shoulders.

“Do you think that’s true?” Big Macintosh raised his brow.

“Erugh,” Troy rolled his eyes a bit too sarcastically as he looked to Big Macintosh. He then shrugged meekly at his shoulders. “Heck if I know. He keeps saying that my body looks too big for such a… high pitched voice or whatever. Canvas keeps saying that it’s all in my head and that I’m fine but… it really got under my feathers, y’know? The thing premiers in a week and last thing he said to me was ‘I suppose that's fine’. Ugh.”

“Mmm,” Big Macintosh replied with a sound as he tugged at his yellow and teal striped bowtie until it slipped from his neck and landed in the sole of his hoof. When he sat down, the floorboards creaked loudly. He was just about halfway from unbuttoning his cardigan when he saw a shadow from under the door on the far right, and then suddenly the door swung open to a cyan mare with a big pink mane and wide eyes. A smudge of flour was on her cheek, and she made a sound when she spotted the two of them.

“Oh!” said Mrs. Cake in a loud, startled tone. “I thought you all had scampered off by now! Were you trying to get some free treats as payment, Mac?” She said this with a bit of a playful giggle.

“Nope,” Big Macintosh shook his head as he fully undid his cardigan. “Just waitin’ till Caramel shows up. We were gonna have lunch.”

“Oh, that’s right, silly me.” Mrs. Cake moved her head up to see Troy on the staircase as he waved to her politely, though it was clear his mind was still stuck in the conversation from before. “And what are you doing here, Troius?”

“Sorry, Ma’am,” Troy said with a shrug. “Just asking Big Mac for a few singing pointers is all.”

“Oh, you two,” Mrs. Cake patted down her apron as puffs of flour went everywhere. “You’re making me look like an awful hostess. I’ll go and get you two something to take home. I’m sure we have leftovers!”

“That’s really not…!” Troy started as he reached out his claw, but Mrs. Cake already had her mind set as she turned away. Troy groaned again and slumped over with both of his claws gripping around the bars of the stairway like bars of a jail cell before he let out a whinny. It was a difficult task due to the shape of his beak, and he seemed to only use his tongue and frown when Big Macintosh looked up at him.

“You didn’t tell me you were going on a date,” Troy shook his head. “I’m just holding you up, aren’t I?”

“Nope,” Big Macintosh shook his head. “Caramel’s always late. He gets real worried ‘bout how his mane looks or if he should wear a sweater ‘cause it’s gettin’ chilly. Ah make him pay the tip for it.”

Troy gave a bit of a chuckle at that and slipped down from the stairway to where Big Macintosh was sitting at the bottom. He settled down beside him and crossed his avian-like arms.

“Couldn’t you just tell him you’re free fifteen minutes earlier?” Troy asked with a smirk on his face.

“Are ya’ asking me to pass up seeing him blush and stutter like a real cutie?” Big Macintosh asked as he scratched at his own face. It was a sign that he wasn’t entirely joking. “But I don’t mind. He wants to look his best, and I ain’t gonna stop him.”

“I shouldn’t be holding you up, though,” Troy said with a frown crossing his face. “Sorry, it’s just been bugging me for a few days now. Canvas is getting pretty annoyed with me waking Tenor up at around midnight just so I have an excuse to go on walks to clear my head. What that director said just really got under my feathers.”

“Y’know,” Big Macintosh said as he leaned back with a frown on his face. “Are ya’ pretty big for a Gryphon, Troy?”

Troy shrugged.

“Average, I guess,” Troy said as he rubbed at his neck. “I mean, we gryphons start out small and then shoot right up to full size in about a year or so. Around middle school before some of the boys hit puberty it looks like fully grown adults are mixed in with the little tykes. Why?”

“Well,” Big Macintosh took the time to chuckle before continuing on. “I was always a pretty big foal. I used to feel real bad whenever I was told I was too big for stuff meant for my age. When I was five, I was too big to ride on my Uncle’s back even though AJ could do it till she was nine.”

Big Macintosh shrugged.

“They used to always say I had a body built for farmin’. They made me help them work on a bunch of stuff, and I didn’t really mind that. Learned some real valuable stuff then, like how to patch up roofs and wagons and whatnot. But what did bug me was when I got older and a bunch of mares took me for that real strong silent type.”

“Um…” Troy said, looking up and down Big Macintosh. “Were they wrong?”

Big Macintosh chuckled at that. It was a deep, hearty kind that despite his tone still somehow managed to come off as cute in a way. It was clear by the way that his pure white freckles that stood out on his skin began to blend into his fur that he was blushing, so he covered up the side of his face Troy was on with his hoof.

“No, suppose not. I was always just real shy, though. Lots of folks always thought I just didn’t wanna talk to em’ just cause I didn’t say much an’ I was real big an’ imposing. Some mares liked that, but didn’t when I started to feel more comfortable and got kinda… dorky with em.”

Once more Big Macintosh blushed and chuckled to hide his growing sheepishness. He squirmed a bit in place and looked to Troy with a bit of a shy smile on his face.

“Like that game night thing you do with Spike?” Troy asked with a laugh of his own.

It was clear that his comment both embarrassed and lit up a hint of a spark of excitement in Big Macintosh’s eyes as he nodded a bit too enthusiastically. “Eeyup,” Big Macintosh said. “Ah ain’t so shy anymore, but a good thing ‘bout ponies thinkin’ that you’re quiet an’ imposing is that you can open up once you’re comfortable and not cause they’ll force ya. A lot of ponies are like that director, and it’s a real shame.”

“You mean wanting me to sound as deep as you?” Troy raised his brow in question when Big Macintosh shrugged his shoulders.

“No, I mean they’re real… finicky. First impressions an’ all.” Big Macintosh shrugged his shoulders and leaned back on the step of the stair. “He thinks you should have a deep voice ‘cause of how you look. Your voice is fine, Sugar.”

“Uh… thanks,” Troy said, seemingly unsure if he should take it as a compliment or not as he looked down. “I think I get what you mean, though. Once or twice when me and Canvas were in Canterlot they asked us if we were waiting for dates about halfway through our dinner at one of those romance-heavy places. Ugh, not my style to do all those roses and champagne and fancy weird meals.”

“Caramel would love that,” Big Macintosh said with a growing smile spreading on his lips. “He won’t admit it, but that stallion’s a real hopeless romantic. But ya’ get what I mean. Ponies just think one thing of you from how you look to what you are. I think I got lucky that I liked all that work my family made me do, but Mel… Mmm…”

“What?” Troy asked, leaning forward and reaching out his claw to nudge Big Macintosh’s shoulder. “C’mon, what about Caramel?”

Big Macintosh shrugged at his shoulders. “He’s real shy. He’s come outta his shell a lot. Heck, forced me out a good deal.” Big Macintosh smiled a bit. “But he likes to cuddle an’ wear cute sweaters an’ get a little squealy when he’s excited. Used to tell me a lot ‘bout ponies who picked on him cause they didn’t think a stallion should be that… froo froo.”

Big Macintosh felt his body shudder from somewhere down in the base of his spine. Those memories were uncomfortable to think about, not only for how he felt in the moment which still felt fiery even now but due to the fact that Caramel always looked so hurt and ashamed with not just himself but his own actions whenever he told Big Macintosh that something happened.

“They don’t do it when I’m ‘round,” Big Macintosh mumbled and bit the inside of his cheek. “Only when he’s alone. I think I come off as imposin’ to them, too.”

“That’s… really crappy,” Troy said.

To his own surprise, and apparently Troy’s due to the changing expression on his face, Big Macintosh laughed. He wasn’t sure why, but just the bluntness in Troy’s statement seemed funny to him. There wasn’t really a better way to put it either, so Big Mac just nodded his head.

“Eeyup,” Big Mac said.

“S-Sorry,” Troy said with a nervous chuckle and a stutter.

A few thumps from the other side of the door interrupted the two singers, and soon Mrs. Cake showed up with a warm smile and the flour clearly washed out of her mane and apron. She was carrying two small boxes on her back as she approached them.

“Oh good, I didn’t miss you,” she said with a pleased sort of grin.

“You really don’t have to do this, Mrs. Cake,” Troy said as he stood up yet was passed a box regardless.

“Nonsense. After the show Big Mac put on, I’m willing to throw in my little tip for him and his friends!” Mrs. Cake chipperly replied with a bit of a bounce in her step. She handed Big Macintosh the other box, and he nodded his thanks and put on his best smile. “Now chocolate mud pie for you, Big Mac. Annnnnd cheesecake for you, Troy!”

“Mmm!” Troy’s eyes widened slightly when he made a sound as his hands suddenly gripped hard around the box until the edges began to bend slightly. “T-Thank you, ma’am!”

“You’re both welcome. Now don’t be afraid to give Caramel some of that. I put in a little extra. Same for you and Canvas, Troy!”

Both of them thanked Mrs. Cake again as she turned away back to the kitchen as Troy opened the box and licked at his beak. His eyes seemed big and hawk-like with hunger as he dipped in his finger and drug it through the cheesecake to pull out a chunk of it and plop it into his mouth. He moaned, and not the normal kind of food moan. No, Troy sounded as though he were having a bit too much pleasure. He must have noticed that Big Macintosh was staring at him, because he pulled his finger out slowly and blinked.

“I really like cream cheese.”

“I noticed,” Big Macintosh replied.

“S-So,” Troy said, sneaking licks of bits of cheesecake off his finger as he spoke. “That doesn’t happen too much around here, does it? I mean, with Caramel and all.”

Big Macintosh shrugged as he gripped at his own box. “I like to hope he tells me whenever it happens, but I always worry it happens more than he lets on. Maybe once every other month some pony will make a mean comment that’ll shake him up real good. He’s pretty… feminine, if you get that.”

Troy nodded slowly.

“Higher voice, long mane, bit of a curvy body. Ah like that last one,” Big Macintosh giggled. It was clearly a giggle, as though he were a little girl, almost. “That’s why I’m gonna give him this whole sharin’ an’ a half of puddin’ so he keeps that curve. Maybe a lil’ more.”

“D-Does he know you do that?” Troy asked, clearly not positive if Big Macintosh was joking or not.

“Does Canvas know ya’ eat cheesecake with your bare claws an’ don’t even share any?” Big Macintosh asked, looking down to Troy’s hands, which were a mess of cheesecake all over his claws. When Troy looked down his eyes widened and he jumped a little, as though he himself was truly unaware of the fact he had been sneaking bits of the cheesecake into his mouth for the past minute.

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Troy mumbled.

Big Macintosh laughed. It seemed as though he couldn’t even be silent long enough for the joke to sink in before he began squirming slightly with the box in his hooves.

“I guess my main point of all this is just… that director sounds kinda like a jerk,” Big Macintosh nodded his head as though he had settled on that word. “Now I don’t like to go ‘round usin’ insults like that, but if he’s keepin’ you up at night makin’ you feel bad ‘bout something you can’t control, then don’t listen to him.”

“Mmm,” Troy said as he gripped at his claws. “I get that, yeah. But I don’t really think it’s a good idea to gimp myself out on what I can do just because the guy’s kind of a jerk director.”

“Then don’t do it for him,” Big Macintosh said. “Do it cause you wanna be a better singer. I know you could do this if you really worked on it, but don’t do it outta hate. Do it outta passion.”

“Y’know… that sounds a bit cheesy,” Troy admitted with the beginnings of a smirk on his face.

“Sorry,” Big Macintosh shrugged with a smile of his own. “When ya’ got two little sisters an’ and nervous boyfriend ya’ get used to cheesy pep talks.”

“I like it, though,” Troy said with a nod of his own head. “Thanks, Big Mac.”

Big Macintosh was just about to open his mouth and talk again, say something to drag out the conversation a little further, but it seemed as though the perfect time had come, and he heard aknock on the back of the door.

“I’m late I’m late I’m late!” a voice called as the door was pulled open to the sound of trampling hooves. Caramel nearly tumbled into the doorway before skidding to a halt at the end of the stairs. He was panting and clutching his chest. “Sorry, Mac!”

“That’s me,” Big Macintosh said to Troy with a bit of a nudge to his shoulder before getting to his hooves. He stood up next to Caramel and reached out his head to plant a kiss on his mane and stroke it gently. “You’re fine, Sugarcube.”

“O-Okay,” Caramel nodded, still clearly out of breath as he turned his attention to Troy. “O-Oh, Troy, I didn’t see you there. Were you two talking?”

“Nah,” Troy said as he shrugged his shoulders and stood up. “I was just heading out. I don’t think I need Mac’s help anymore, actually. It was nice seeing you though, Caramel. Thanks for talking, Big Mac!”

“Eeyup!” the workhorse called out.

“Um, nice to see you, too…” Caramel said in a bit of a distracted voice as Troy slipped past the two of them. Big Macintosh waited until he turned his head back away from the closing door before slipping a kiss onto Caramel’s lips.

“What was that?” Caramel asked, raising his hoof and touching Mac by the cheek.

“Oh, nothin’,” Big Macintosh shrugged his shoulders. “Just guy talk. You’re looking mighty cute today though, Sugar.”

“W-What? M-Man, you’re such a dork,” Caramel giggled when he rolled his eyes, though it was clear by his flustered tone of voice that he was touched by those words. He looked down to the box in Mac’s hooves and gave out a gentle groan. “Hey, what’s that?”

“Mrs. Cake thought you’d like some more pie,” Big Macintosh giggled as he gave the box over. “I ain’t hungry though, so you can have it.”

“Whaaaat, again?” Caramel asked as he took the box, dragging out the sound in his words as he rolled his eyes. “Mac, you’re really trying to fatten me up, geez.”

“Whatever would give ya’ that idea?” Big Mac asked before bumping his flank against Caramel’s side and nodding to the back of the door. Caramel giggled and pushed up next to him. Big Macintosh smiled when he approached the door.

Big Mac looked up to the sky, catching the briefest glimpses of Troy taking off about a dozen feet away. He hoped that some of his words had sunken in as he leaned down to kiss Caramel’s forehead again.