Applejack's Family Bonding

"Oh shit!”

You hurriedly explain the problem to Applejack, both of you wincing at the action of speaking/listening; Applejack nods and goes back to looking for the elixir, but not before playfully ruffling your mane.

"Just make sure you come to the next party, alright partner? Haven’t had a night like that in a long time.” She nips your butt on the way out, grinning deviously as you stumble your way pass the hordes of passed-out partygoers

You exit into the harsh sunlight of a pre-noon Ponyville, bleary eyed and reeking of alcohol and musk; doing your best not to throw up in the bushes, you keep on trotting for home. You can feel your heart growing heavier with each step as you approach, the taste of vomit still on your lips and everything about you pretty much a dead giveaway. There is nothing to be done, nothing that can be helped as you approach the house.

Gingerly, you open the door.

The house is empty.

"Mom? Dad? Look, I have a perfectly good explanation for all of this!” You call out into the hallways, the lack of an answer both puzzling and intriguing when your eye drops to a note on the table.

‘Left early this morning for harvest and construction, set an alarm for you though! Much love.’

'Hey, everything worked out!' Suddenly you hear the soft crunch of an applecart pulling up behind the house; Dad’s applecart.

'Hey, everything is ruined.' You slump to the floor; it’s been a long night, and you can’t go on anymore. Your dad walks in and sees you looking decidedly unwell, and for a moment looks concerned; Then, he takes a deep breath. There’s no way he won’t notice the smell of booze and vomit and sex, you’re done, over, finished, toast.

His response is to start bellowing with laughter

”Wh-what?” He sits down on the couch next to you, wiping a tear from his eye with one last chuckle. Your dad claps you on the back hard enough to make your stomach flip and you resist the urge to vomit with difficulty.

”Son, if I had a bit for every wild Apple family party I snuck off to as a kid I’d be Filthy Rich. It's how I met your mom actually; hell, it’s where you were conceived!” Ick. Your dad snaps back to reality, and gives you a smile and a nod. ”Anyway, get upstairs and shower, I’ll tell your mom you were sick this morning.”

You thank your dad profusely and go upstairs to the bathroom, where at last you can vomit freely.

~~

In the shower, you turn the past 24 hours over in your head, again and again, thinking about Applejack and parties and…
’…it’s where you were conceived!’

Oh. Oh god.

You feel like the shower is spinning; well, spinning even more then it was. Thoughts of your night with Applejack play out again and again, always ending with Applejack getting filled up with a nice dose of baby batter.

Now you can only hope that Zecora has an Elixir for that too.