Stars twinkled over Sweet Apple Acres. They shone. They blazed. Applejack had invited her friends over for the evening, and they’d been delighted to come. There was no question of turning in early; the night was warm and the cider crisp. The night was long and beckoned. Friends took turns feeding sticks to the campfire. It crackled and showered sparks into the night. Moths danced like drunken pixies around the flames and around their heads, occasionally bumping gently against them, necessitating a hoof to brush them back into the air. Applejack tapped a second barrel of her own special reserve cider while Rarity and Pinkie Pie innovated with s’mores.
It was exactly the kind of night they all needed. No adventure, no running about. No problems to fix or places to go. They didn’t have to be friends to accomplish anything, they could just be friends for its own sake.
Applejack poured out a new round. She watched her friends across the fire, giggling and bickering over the finery of campfire cooking. Taking it slow, she could just feel the cider inside the barrell, flowing and shifting inside. There was the smell of apples here and more, as if the reserve had managed to distill not just the essence of fruit, but also that of good company, companionship, and the pleasure of simple togetherness. Rarity squealed and jumped aside as a blob of molten marshmallow fell. “Pinkie Pie be careful!” she complained.
A chuckle ran around the fire. Applejack rumbled with low laughter and the cider she held rippled in response. She sipped and savoured it. It was apples, of course — well, mostly apples — but Applejack was proud to know a few other things found their way into it as well. Friendship, goodness, the reward of honest work and a promise of happiness. A proof to be proud of. Those were what made Sweet Apple Acres cider best, and Applejack’s own reserve best of all. She took Rarity hers, still fitful after her near miss of a sticky situation.
They met eyes. In the firelight and under the stars, Rarity shone like a spirit and her eyes were stars that sparkled. “Here,” said Applejack.
They didn’t move.
They didn’t notice it, or perhaps chose not to notice it, but the other four ponies did, even if Twilight Sparkle had to be quietly nudged by Rainbow Dash a couple of times. Quiet fell about the group. For a moment there was only the sounds of moths’ wings and wood sparks, only starlight and firelight. Rarity and Applejack trapped in a moment, casting two long shadows outwards, becoming indistinct and melting together in the wider night.
Four ponies watched two ponies watching one another.
Rarity nodded. “Thank you.”
Applejack smiled. “You’re welcome.”
And that was that. Applejack returned to her side of the fire and life carried on. She helped a smoke-drunk moth out of her mane, fed sticks to the fire and cider to her friends.
Twilight Sparkle wasn’t drunk. No siree, she was not. But she wasn’t not drunk, either. Her friends had all insisted she needed to relax and Applejack’s invitation to a friendly sit around the bonfire had made for a perfect crash-course in letting her hair down. Nopony was letting the little alicorn run dry with her cups. Even Fluttershy was keeping her topped up, leaning over now and again to check on her. Fluttershy! If the mug even looked like running low, out would go the word, then the mug — who could resist letting Fluttershy take it? — and back it would come to her in no time at all, innocent in its fullness again. Twilight was well aware of the rosy glow of perpetual embarrassment in her cheeks.
She spun towards Rainbow Dash and the world wobbled playfully. “I think,” she loudly whispered, “that they are trying to get me drunk.”
The pegasus snorted. By the light of the fire, Rainbow Dash’s colours were otherworldly. They made her wraith-like and pretty. Her eyes glimmered and her smile was mischievous. “Since when do alicorns get drunk?”
Twilight played the words over her mind like putty. “I,” she hazarded, “will let you know when we find out.”
She went to pat her friend’s hoof and missed.
“That doesn’t prove anything. You moved. I want to pat your hoof.”
It felt good, actually. Really good. They could all see her, silly and awkward, not special at all. Not really, not in her own eyes; they saw Twilight, and knew Twilight, and still liked her for it or even because of it. Before friendship, she never would have believed how good it could be. Friendship! Even now that she did know, it was still a sort of quiet miracle, something she treasured without total understanding of.
As it was, Twilight was feeling vulnerable, and trusting, and more than a little giddy. So she scooched up close to Fluttershy and leaned well over her lap, so that her ear was practically at Fluttershy’s lips. “What’s up with them?” she asked, flicking a nod to Rarity and Applejack, together again.
“Oh, um. Nothing,” Fluttershy said.
Fluttershy had to be the softest thing. Anything softer would probably short-circuit the universe. It would be too much, too good. Twilight, her mind floating pleasantly on cider, made herself at home. Twilight nestled into her and Fluttershy petted her mane. Twilight tried not to show just how much she was enjoying this, though Fluttershy probably knew anyway. Twilight quelled an urge to purr; Fluttershy was a champion petter. Petter of champions.
Twilight almost forgot her question. Her thoughts were dissolving at the edges, gently fizzing into benign, unthinking contentment. The world was sideways and that made her a little dizzy, all the stars to one side and all the earth to the other. She almost left it at that. Rarity was gossipping with Pinkie Pie, while Applejack and Rainbow Dash both seemed content to have a little more space, a little more quiet and a little more cider as they relaxed. It didn’t look like anything, but... it didn’t look like nothing, either. A slight hesitation, a momentary lingering of the eyes, a hint of being just that little bit guarded between fashionista and farmer, the one beside the other. Twilight struggled to put it into words. “It looks like something,” she said.
Fluttershy went on brushing Twilight’s mane. “Oh, hush,” said Fluttershy. Twilight was inclined to do just that. She tingled under the touch. Those animals of Fluttershy’s had it good. Really good!
Twilight surrendered. She rested her eyes and purred under Fluttershy’s ministrations. The mare massaged her head and it was heaven. She heard soft hooffalls and the shifting of log benches. “Not a friendship problem,” Twilight murmured. “Sounds like a friendship problem. Could be a friendship problem.”
A pony scooched in next to Twilight. Rainbow Dash prodded her friend and princess just above the cutie mark. “What are you babbling about?”
“Those two,” said Twilight, shooing away the blue hoof, then, changing her mind, fumbled to steal it back. “Don’t they seem a bit odd to you?”
Twilight Sparkle was not in the optimum position to catch it, being sprawled across the lap of the softest thing — otherwise known as Fluttershy — as she was, but nonetheless she thought she caught something of a look passing between the two pegasi. “Oh,” said Rainbow Dash. “That’s just Applejack and Rarity.”
They all looked across the fire. Pinkie Pie was pantomiming enthusiastically, including such actions as puffing out her cheeks, flapping her hooves wildly like wings and throwing herself accidentally on purpose sideways into a bush while the two in question sat together and watched. Pinkie Pie popped back up from the leaves. She spat out a few, then mouthed a few words that Twilight had no hope of catching the meaning of. Then she winked, huge, happy and beaming, straight at Twilight, before launching into yet more antics.
“What do you mean just Applejack and Rarity?” Twilight's logic and reasoning were not at their peak efficiency thanks to cider and glorious pony rubs, so natural intuition — a faculty Twilight tended to under-utilize — picked up the slack. Rarity and Applejack were sitting close together, almost touching from bum to shoulder but — and this seemed important — were also clearly visibly not touching one another.
Except for where Rarity’s curls rested against Applejack, or where the length of her own gold mane reached down to the unicorn’s hip. But long hair was like that, inner Twilight reasoned. It got everywhere especially since, being a pony, you had it at both ends. Fluttershy was brushing at hers and it was, to borrow Dash’s mannerism, amazing.
“They haven’t been fighting, have they?” Twilight asked, already not believing the notion.
“Oh, I hope not,” said Fluttershy. “I mean, I don’t think they have.” She sounded doubtful, although that was fitting and natural.
Rainbow Dash also sounded doubtful, which in her case was neither of these things. “Yeah, it’s no big deal. Don’t worry about it, ‘k?”
They had a point. More so, Fluttershy had hooves, and they were kneading Twilight Sparkle’s neck and shoulders. Demons and rogue wizards had tried to sap her willpower before — Fluttershy’s hooves were like that, only successful.
“Hold on,” she said, calling on her considerable willpower to resist. She propped herself up and, because Twilight had considerable but not insurmountable willpower, crawled forwards, giving Fluttershy access to her wings. “Oh. Oooh.” Her wings trembled and melted against her sides. Sticking her lip out, Twilight was just able to sip at her cider, too. “You’re not telling me something. Are Rarity and Applejack... do they have feelings?”
“Everypony has feelings, Twilight,” Fluttershy gently chided.
“I know when you’re trying to distract me. There’s something you’re not saying. You knoooow...” Fluttershy’s hooves found their way to the exact spot at the base of Twilight’s wing, a junction of nerves and muscle tension, the one she herself could never quite reach herself. “Know what I... Ah, oh yes. Right there, Ooh...”
Even Rainbow Dash’s teasing laughter couldn’t unnerve her, such was Twilight’s bliss. “Yeah,” said the pegasus, “she’s kind of really good at that. Try not to enjoy it too much, Twi.”
“Don’t worry about mean old Dashie. You enjoy this however much you want to, Twilight.” Fluttershy smiled and giggled. The she pouted. “I don’t really think you’re mean, Rainbow Dash. Or old. I’m sorry if I sounded that way. Not that it isn’t okay to be old, either...”
Twilight was mumbling. More so, she was moaning. A low rumble of sheer contentment came from deep inside. She managed to float a few words up in her sea of blissful sensation. “Are they special someponies? They could have told me... Ooh...”
Twilight felt something touch the small of her back. “I’m not a cup-holder, Dash,” she grumbled, but even her grumbles sounded happy and blissful, primarily because they were. Fluttershy made you happy.
“Could have fooled me, sprawled out like that. Just don’t move. Hey Pinkie Pie! Get a load of this! Twilight Table, amirite?”
Twilight pouted. She could just move and knock Dash’s cider, or move it by magic, or do any number of things, but... Fluttershy was massaging her back.“Why are you trying to distract me? Are they or aren’t they?”
Rainbow Dash hummed for a time as she chose and arranged her words. “Fine,” she muttered. “They kind of asked that we wouldn’t say anything, but if you’re going to be so nosey...” Dash sounded pleased, all the same.
“They’re just working out some, um, feelings, that they have,” said Fluttershy.
“They’re not, like, dating, I don’t think. Not-dating, though, they got that down pat.”
Twilight Sparkle was woozy. She got caught up on the word, pat. Funny word, that one. “How do you mean?” she remembered to ask.
“Well,” whispered Rainbow Dash, nudging Twilight’s chin towards the two, “Look at ‘em.” The fire glowed. Pinkie Pie was gathering a few sticks, and the two ponies watched her. Maybe it was the cider and the pony-rubs, but there definitely seemed to be a sort of, oh, tension there. A rippling-in-the-water quality between Rarity and Applejack that stood out to the imagination.
“There’s no book you couldn’t fill with all the things they’ve not been talking about!” Dash whispered.
Twilight struggled to right herself. On the second... nope, third try, she managed to. The lights in the sky swung back to their usual place. She leaned on Dash for warmth. “That’s...” she gave up counting, “so many negatives you just said. It’s a lot.”
Rarity and Applejack, eh? Now that deserved some special thought. Holding her hooves up and closing one eye, Twilight could — and did — that thing whereby a pony starts squishing her two friends’ heads together.
“It could work,” she argued. “But then again...”
Rainbow Dash pulled her close. Twilight’s eyes rolled and refocused on her. “Don’t worry about it. Like I said, this isn’t new. You’re just new to knowing it, is all.”
“New to knewing,” she corrected. “Nude. Thingy. And what about you? I’m oblivious to this sort of thing. Relationships,” she spluttered. “I get it. But what should we do?”
A soft grip on Twilight’s hoof drew her attention due Fluttershy. “Nothing at all,” said the pretty yellow pony. “We’re here if they ask for us. We shouldn’t meddle.” The fire played softly on her coat and mane. There was reproach in her tone.
“You’re right,” murmured Twilight. She considered options. There was a least a few in mind already. “Maybe a little nudge.” She went back to her contemplative staring and it gave her a jolt to realize that Applejack was staring right back at her.
Applejack smiled. “You alright?”
Twilight felt all wiggly and warm. Her hooves were still out in front of her. She lowered them conspicuously “I’m good.”
“I see that. Girls,” said Applejack, swinging her hooves around under herself, “I’ll catch up with y’all later. Gonna walk Rarity home. Help yourselves to more of the cider. Celestia knows it’s good stuff, ain’t it just?”
Rarity was a little more poised in taking to her hooves. “Twi, don’t go racing too far ahead now.” She hesitated, then giggled out the word, sugarcube. “It’s been lovely, all of you. Applejack, if you’ll lead?”
Applejack laughed, loud and bright. “You know? I think I just might.” To the group she said, “See y’all darlings later.”
They watched them leave the firelight, to moonlight and starlight. A jumble of sticks shook loose a pillar of sparks from the campfire. Twilight was pulled up in the fuzzy embrace of Pinkie Pie.
“So now you know?” she asked brightly, as four watched two pull farther away.
“I can’t believe nopony’s done anything about this yet,” mused Twilight. “They did a thing! A thing with words! I mean, we probably shouldn’t, but you have to admit... the temptation’s there.”
“Bet you a bit they’ve been saying the exact same thing,” said Rainbow Dash. “Or, you know, at least thinking it.” She knocked back another swallow of cider. “Maybe tonight’s the night.”
“The night for what?” asked Twilight before thinking. “The night they talk to one another?”
Fluttershy seemed oddly pleased with herself. “Who can say?”
“They can!” Pinkie Pie free-fell backwards, Twilight Sparkle in tow. They hit the soft ground and lay by the fire. “I’m cuddling you so you don’t drunk-fly after them,” teased Pinkie Pie.
“I’m not that bad,” grumbled Twilight.
“You are. You drunk-fly after them, but it’s dark and you're boozy-woozy-doozy distracted thinking about the lovey-doveys, so you crash into a bush. Then you spit out leaves that taste awful and your mane’s a mess.
Twilight thought about that last bit. She surrendered herself to the hold anyway. “Is my mane a mess or was that the subjunctive still?”
Pinkie Pie booped her. “You’re the subjunctive!”
The Princess of Friendship drew herself up. Only a little, because Pinkie Pie had a good grip on her. But still. “You know what?I am the subjunctive! The best subjunctive you’ve ever seen!”
She struggled in play; Pinkie Pie was better at it, though. “What’s subjunctive mean?” she asked brightly.
Twilight thought about words. “It’s a big silly word. Silly is a better word.”
“Silly is a better word.”
Twilight watched sparks fly all the way to the stars. She felt dreamy and wondrous. “Don’t let me fall asleep,” she asked.
“I won’t,” said Pinkie Pie.
She totally did. After a time, she fell asleep, too.
They slept. Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy watched over them and they stayed up late into the night, wondering without worry when one or two or none would return. They let the fire burn down, nestled in snowy ash.
Stars twinkled over Sweet Apple Acres. It was exactly the kind of night they all had needed.
