A Slice of Cheese

by MrNumbers

Rating: everyone
Tags: Lil' Cheese, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy
Length: 22800

If everyone could see themselves as L'il Cheese saw them, the world would be a much brighter place. A story about love in the shape of laughter.

If everyone could see themselves as L'il Cheese saw them, the world would be a much brighter place.

A story about love in the shape of laughter.

Published 2019-10-18 21:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2021-06-02 07:40:32 UTC

The Hospital

Pinkie Pie fiddled with the hospital bed settings and giggled. Up, down, up, down... She’d never get bored of this.

“Ms Pie?” The nurse was watching her with some concern.

“Oh! Right. Sorry, I got distracted by the buttons.” Pinkie put them down on the table next to her. “So, I was saying, Princess Twilight told me that some parents play classical music to their baby bellies. So I thought-”

“You know the Princess?” The nurse raised an eyebrow.

Pinkie rolled her eyes. “Of course I know Princess Twilight. We saved Equestria together more times than I can count!”

The nurse stared. “Wait, you’re- I’m so sorry, you’re that Pinkie Pie! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you-”

Pinkie waved it off, and pointed at her stomach. “Yeah, they don’t make a stained glass window of you looking like this, huh? Hall of Mirrors Pinkie is so young and skinny. Such a cutie pie! That’s what I’m naming it, if it’s a girl, by the way. Daddy gets to pick the name if it’s a boy.”

The nurse was staring, and Pinkie realized she got distracted again.

“Right! So, anyway, Twilight said that they play classical music, and I thought, yeah. If we want our kid to grow up boring, right? So my big Cheese went out and he got all his favourite polka albums ever made, and I got all my best kid-friendly stand up comedy routines, and we’ve been playing that instead.” Pinkie rubbed her stomach, her smile a bit forced. “We want them to have the best head start in life we can manage.”

The nurse was still staring, and Pinkie laughed, because it was nice to know she could still have that effect on ponies.

Cheese Sandwich kicked in the door, a bouquet of flowers and chocolates under one arm, a small studio’s worth of film equipment under the other. “Am I late? Did I miss anything?” He slammed the already-rolling camera down like an explorer planting a flag.

“Just who I was waiting for!” Pinkie beamed, spreading her arms wide for a hug. Her husband dropped everything to give it to her. “Okay, I think I’m ready now.”

The nurse’s voice raised in alarm. “That’s not how this works.”

“Of course it’s not,” Pinkie grimaced, “I’ve just been holding it in for the last few minutes so my sweetie didn’t miss anything.”

“You can’t-” The nurse’s eyes went wide as Pinkie started huffing. “I’m sorry, apparently you can. I’ll go get a doctor,” she started off.

“Fast as you can?” Pinkie shouted after her, “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble?”

Cheese Sandwich offered a hoof to hold, and Pinkie grabbed it tight. She heard a bone crack, and she looked up in fright, but his expression hadn’t changed even a little.

“It’s fine,” he cooed, “we’re in a hospital. I’ll just get it looked at after.”

“You’re sure?”

“Bet that hurts way worse.”

Pinkie Pie laughed. “Ha ha ha. Yeah.”

The doctor ran in. “Good gracious. This room’s starting to get a bit crowded, isn’t it?”

“I couldn’t decide which flowers were best, so I just bought all of them,” Cheese rubbed the back of his neck. “I figured, the right ones have to be in there somewhere?”

“Aww,” Pinkie squeezed him, “that’s so sweet. Maybe go put them outside for the nice doctor?”

Cheese nodded, and started grabbing up the small greenhouse he’d hauled in with him.

The doctor moved to her side to check her pulse, frowning thoughtfully. “Are you expecting any other visitors?”

“Well, I didn’t tell anybody,” Pinkie said carefully, “so, I’m expecting like... six more.”

“You’re expecting six more, if you didn’t tell anyone?”

“Well,” Pinkie laughed nervously, “they’re the six hardest friends in Equestria to keep anything from. How long have I been here, now?”

“A little under an hour, why?”

“Gosh,” Pinkie glanced at the clock, “might be safer to step away from the door then. Oh, and the windows. Maybe just stand in that corner there for a few seconds.”

The doctor did so immediately and without question, because unlike the nurse, he’d read the patient files.

Rarity kicked in the door.

“Pinkie!”

“Rarity!”

“You didn’t tell me!” Rarity rushed to Pinkie’s side, right through where the doctor had been standing a second ago. He gulped, and let out an uneasy sigh. Pinkie locked eyes with him and gave a slight shake of the head, and he kept still.

“Sorry, I was going to tell you all as soon as I was, you know... done?”

“I have my assistant bringing up ice and hot towels, and anything else you should desire, just ask.” Rarity ran her hoof across Pinkie’s linens. “What is the threadcount on these? Two?”

“They’re fine, Rarity. Everyone here’s been really nice.”

“Good.” Rarity sighed in relief, “Good, because if they weren’t-”

Rainbow Dash stopped just short of the window, hard enough to rattle it, and tried to open it from the outside. There wasn’t a handle though. Her muffled swearing was enough to make Pinkie try to cover he foals ears through her belly, making her best guess where their ears were. Then she flew downstairs.

Applejack kicked the door in.

“Ha!” she doubled over, sucking in air, “Told Rainbow I’d beat her.”

Rarity squinted at her, her lips pulled tight between laughing and scowling. “Did you really make this into a race?”

“Weren’t going to, but then Rainbow said somethin’ stupid about them leaving the windows unlocked, and well...”

“Hey, Applejack!” Pinkie waved from her bed.

“There’s my cutie patootie mum-to-be. How you holding up?”

“Fine, thanks for asking-”

Rainbow Dash kicked the door in. The top hinge snapped.

“Dang it!”

“Ha! Told you-”

“Hi Fluttershy!”

Only Pinkie had even noticed her come in behind Rainbow Dash.

Fluttershy turned to the bed and waved, before going back to fixing the door. “Goodness. Pinkie, do you-” Pinkie reached into her mane for a screwdriver and tossed it over. Fluttershy caught it with a smile. “Thank you. Want to make sure they let you back in.”

“What,” Pinkie laughed, “in case I want to have another one?”

“Yes,” Fluttershy said very seriously. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I’ve already got a doctor.” Pinkie pointed to the doctor hiding in the corner. She said to him, “Just two left. Then you can move.”

Fluttershy paused fixing the door. “Two left? So I might be a little early-”

“Twilight and Spike.”

“Right. Of course,” and she went back to fixing the door.

Pinkie looked over at the doctor. “I’m sorry about this. You didn’t even get a chance to tell me your name. So, think about introducing yourself because you’re going to get a chance to in, like, about thirty seconds.”

The doctor nodded, and started rehearsing to himself in the corner as Pinkie’s bed was mobbed by her well-meaning, lovely, wonderful, too-many friends.

As they all tried to talk over each other, and competed to be the most helpful, Pinkie closed her eyes and counted down with a soft smile. “Three... two...”

Twilight popped into the middle of the room, surrounded by a stack of magazines and books.

“I came as fast as I could! Pinkie Pie!” Twilight and her too-long legs swept the crowd aside in the small room as she leaned in for a nuzzle, “how are you holding up?”

“Just swell, thanks. No Spike?”

“He’s asleep right now, so he can take over when everyone else gets tired.”

“He’s so considerate, isn’t he? Ah, Fluttershy, you might want to scootch back a bit?”

Fluttershy nodded, backing away just in time for Cheese Sandwich to kick in the door. Fluttershy sighed, and picked the screwdriver back up.

“Oh! Your friends are all here!” Cheese beamed, his hoof wrapped in bandages. “I thought you weren’t inviting them?”

“I didn’t!” Pinkie smiled at all her friends, and the smile was heavy with meaning. “Even though I love them all very dearly. Because Doctor...?”

“Doctor Stillwell, at your service.” The doctor finally pushed his way out of the corner, trying his best not to get distracted by Princess Twilight Sparkle still hugging his patient. “Your friend is in the best hooves possible.”

“Thank you. Girls, you know I love all of you from the itty-bitty bottom of my heart, but if you don’t go wait outside right now, I’m going to bite somebody’s head off.”

Rarity coughed into a hoof, “Now, you’re being figurative, aren’t you?”

Pinkie Pie, still smiling, shook her head.

“Well, I did see a vending machine that had a cookie with my name all over it. Girls?”

They left the room like air from a bellows, Pinkie looking lovingly at her concerned husband. “Gosh, I love them so much.”

Then, the contractions started.

The Cousins

“Princess Twilight was really there when I was born?” L’il Cheese chriped from Pinkie’s shoulders, “and you really broke Dad’s hoof?”

“Yeah!” Pinkie laughed, and Cheese Sandwich puffed his chest out, “He was so brave.”

“Wow! And did I really come out in a big burst of confetti?”

Pinkie nodded. “You did!”

Cheese’s expression turned sage, thoughtful. He stroked his Dad-goatee, the chin scruff he’d been trying to pull off that he thought made him look wise - he’d been trying for it ever since he saw Sunburst a few months ago. Pinkie gave it another month before he wordlessly shaved it off. “I still say it was all the polka.”

“It was probably all the polka.” Pinkie agreed.

They had plenty of time to fill, riding Gummy from Ponyville all the way to Maud’s place.

“What’s Aunt Maud like?” L’il Cheese asked, tugging the top of Pinkie’s mane.

“You were too-Little Cheese to remember her, huh?” Pinkie looked up. “You liked her a lot. She’s really nice.”

“They’re very... quiet,” Sandwich offered diplomatically. “Not really like your mum at all.”

“Huh,” Pinkie frowned, “ponies keep saying that, but I think we’re super clearly sisters.”

“If you say so,” Sandwich trailed off.

“You’ll see,” Pinkie prophesied, “you tell your father who’s right when we get there.”

“Father?” Sandwich clutched his heart, “not Dad?”

“That is how serious I am right now.”

“Woah,” L’il Cheese said. Then a pause. “Are we nearly there yet?”

“I think so!”

The door opened, and Maud stuck her head out to watch them pull in on their giant alligator... thing. “Pinkie,” she said, and L’il Cheese could hear the smile in her voice, “you’ve arrived.”

Maud walked out on to the front porch of the little rock farm homestead. Mud Briar followed close behind, with his big bushy Mountain Man beard down past his chest. Cheese Sandwich scratched his chin, and Pinkie moved the one month calendar up a few weeks with a giggle.

“Pinkie, Cheese Sandwich,” Mud Briar nodded, “It is always a pleasure to host you.”

“I’m so glad Maud found someone so good for her,” Pinkie whispered to her husband. He nodded. Not because he understood, mind, but you didn’t need to understand to agree. “Where are the twins?”

Mud opened the door a little wider, and Sediment and Pediment slunk out, staring at their hooves. L’il Cheese gasped, and bounced off Pinkie’s shoulders - he was getting a bit too big to keep doing that, but Pinkie would just have to remember to mention it later - and ran up to them.

“I have!” he shouted, “Cousins!”

Sediment and Pediment looked up just in time to see Cheese fly into them, one arm around each of their necks, squeezing them into a tight hug. Briar looked Concerned, in a way that looked very Dadly of him, Pinkie thought to herself.

Pinkie went up to hug Maud herself, as Cheese Sandwich tried to find a place to hitch Gummy for a while.

L’il Cheese sized them up - one was a greyish-purple filly, and the other was a purplish-grey colt. Neither had their cutie mark yet, either. “Okay, which one of you is Pediment, and which is Sediment?”

“I’m Pediment.” “I’m Sediment.” They said at the same time, and fortunately because L’il Cheese was standing directly between them - still hugging them - he managed to work out which said which.

“Okay!” he took a few steps back, and looked at them with a serious intensity. “Can I call you Seddie and Peddie?”

“We don’t like it when other ponies call us that,” Sediment, who was the greyish-purple filly, said.

L’il Cheese stuck out his bottom lip, and made his pupils go all big. “But can I call you that?”

Sediment and Pediment looked at each other thoughtfully. “He did ask nicely.” “We did say other ponies.” “We are in agreement.” They looked back at Cheese and nodded as one. “You may call us that.”

“Yes!” L’il Cheese shot into the air with a whoop. “What do you want to do first? C’mon.” He started running off, and the surprised twins took a moment before running off after him.

Cheese Sandwich watched them shoot past him as he walked up to the front door. “Well, they seem to get along like peanut butter and jelly, huh?”

Mud Briar nodded. “Yes.” There was a few seconds of Mud Briar staring at Sandwich’s chin. “Are you trying to...?”

“Fine! I’ll shave!”

Mud Briar nodded. “You have a very square jawline. It’s a good look. A clean shave makes it more pronounced.”

“Oh. Uh, thank you?”

Mud nodded. “Maud and I baked bread today. It might not be as good as Pinkie Pie’s baking, but I hope you might enjoy it.”

Cheese Sandwich lowered his voice, and pulled Mud into a whispered huddle. “So you used salt, instead of sugar?”

“Yes. This is the optimal way, I find, to bake bread.”

“My man!” Cheese started off towards the kitchen, “Cut me off a fat slice then.”

Mud smiled.

“So this is our treehouse.” Seddie swung open the hatch. The tree it had been built into was long dead - like, hundreds-of-years dead - so it was kind of a fossilized tree house. Which was super cool. “We come here to be alone.”

“More alone.” Peddie clarified, “Since we live on a rock farm.”

“Yes,” Seddie nodded, helping pull L’il Cheese up after herself, “mostly away from our parents.”

“Why would you want to get away from your parents, though? They seem nice.”

“They are,” “we love them very much,” “but we still want some privacy some times.” “Does that make sense?”

“I guess, but I like, never want to get away from my parents. I mean, I still do, sometimes, but it’s only because I want to do something else more. I never, like, want to get away from them just to get away from them, you know?”

“Huh.” “Weird.” “That’s actually really sweet.”

“You’re not going to make fun of me for that?” L’il Cheese tried to keep the surprise out of his voice. “Because, you know, some of the other ponies I know say I’m a ‘mumma’s boy’ or stuff like that.”

Pediment rolled his eyes. “Oh no, your parents love you too much, and you love them back.”

Sediment groaned. “Real character flaw you have there.”

L’il Cheese’s arms shot up. “Right??? You guys get it!”

They nodded. “Most ponies are mean to us, too.” “They think we’re boring. Or creepy.” “Can you believe it?”

L’il Cheese gasped. “No! You have, like, a treehouse that’s also a rock fort at the same time. That’s super cool!”

“Right?” “We think so anyway.”

“What do you do up here?”

Sediment’s chest puffed out with pride. “This is where I keep my rock collection.”

Pediment puffed his chest out pridefully. “This is where I keep my stamp collection, which is better.”

“Rocks are better than stamps.”

“You can find rocks anywhere. Stamps are much harder to collect.”

“Of course you can find rocks anywhere. That’s why it takes taste and education to know a good rock when you see it.”

“You think all rocks are good rocks.”

“That’s not true. I think arsenopyrite is a bad rock. I also think sandstone is not very good at all.”

“You like salt though.”

“Salt is the only rock we can eat, which makes it very interesting, in my opinion. I’d rather lick salt crystals than stamps.”

“At least stamps can send letters.”

“Oh yeah? Who would you even send a letter to?” Sediment and Pediment had their heads pressed together now, glaring hard.

“Me!” L’il Cheese jumped up and waved. “You could send letters to me! Letters about rocks and stamps!”

The twins disentangled, looking curiously at Cheese. “You’d really like to hear us talk about our collections?”

“Yeah! You both obviously really care a lot about it! And I think that’s really neat!” Cheese started sniffing around the treehouse. “You should get them out and show me your favourites! I want to know all about stamps and rocks and stuff.”

“You do?” they asked simultaneously, just as Cheese found the big fishing tackle boxes in the corner with their collections in them.

“Is this them?”

The twins went to snatch the boxes out of Cheese’s hooves. Looked down, realized they’d grabbed the wrong one, and silently swapped them with a nod. Some things were too sacred to fight over.

“So, are you going to show me or what?”

The twins looked at each other, and hesitated, one hoof each on the handles of their collections. “It’s just...” “... we’ve never shown these to anyone else before.”

“Really?”

Seddie and Peddie nodded. Seddie cleared her throat. “Well, Mum helped me with the rocks.” Peddie tapped his free hoof against the side of the metal box. “Dad helps me find the stamps.”

“But you’ve never shown them the collection, right?”

They both nodded again.

“Well,” L’il Cheese grinned, “Am I lucky that I’m your super duper favouritest cousin in the whole world or what, then?”

The twins looked at each other, and had a silent conversation with just a series of facial expressions that Cheese couldn’t understand. But they both looked back at him with determination.

“Alright.” “You seem cool.”

The latches unclicked at once.

“Oh my gosh, so, Seddie had this one crystal that was like, smooth black on the outside, but purple crystals on the inside! And Peddie had this one stamp that was on a three hundred year old envelope, and he taught me how to get them off without damaging stuff! And Seddie had this one rock which looked like when you spill cooking oil on the countertop and it catches the light, but it was made of metal and it was all made of squares!”

Pinkie nodded, “Uh huh?”

“Oh, and Peddie had this one stamp where they printed the head backward! They only made, like, fifty before anyone noticed!”

“And he had one?”

“He had two!”

“Wow.”

“Oh, oh, and Seddie also had this one rock where it looked like it was a flower growing out of it, but the flower was made of sapphire or something.”

Cheese Sandwich flicked Gummie’s reins. “You think he’s going to be like this the whole trip home?”

“Gosh, I sure hope so!” Pinkie beamed back, as L’il Cheese kept going on over her shoulders.

The Siblings

Big Sugar heard Cheese Pie yelling for him the second he stepped onto the acres, but he waited for a bit. Because Cheese Pie hadn’t stopped yelling since then, and it was a long way up to the farm house. He wanted to see if he could keep it up.

“Sugar! Sugar! Sugar! Sugar! Sugar!” Cheese Pie crested the hill, “Sugar! Sugar!”

His Dad cleared his throat. “Think someone’s calling for you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Sugar! Sugar! Sugar! Sugar!”

“You ain’t going to holler back?”

“In a minute. I wanna see how this plays out.”

“Sugar! Sugar! Sugar! Sugar! Suuuuugaaaaar!” Cheese was gasping now.

“Go on,” Big Mac patted his son on the head. “If you’re waiting to see if he’s going to get tired out, just remember what your Aunt Pinkie’s like.”

“Reckon so,” Sugar leaned into his Dad’s head tussle, then skipped off. “Over here, cuz!”

Cheese spotted him, laser-focused in and bounded the rest of the way, bowling Big Sugar over in a flying tackle-hug. They both rolled around, giggling.

“You weren’t too worn out after all that hollering?”

“You heard?” Cheese’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Well, yeah,” Sugar grinned, “You’re really loud.”

“Thanks! My Mum says I could probably talk underwater if I wanted to.”

Big Mac pulled out his newspaper and cracked it open in front of him, so the kids wouldn’t see how much he was laughing at that.

“Hey!” Cheese bounced up, pulling Sugar after him. “You want to go to Sugarcube Corner and get a milkshake?”

“Yeah, that sounds... wait.” Sugar turned to his Dad. “Hey, Dad, can I have some bits for a milkshake?”

“You done your chores?”

“Yessssss.” Sugar rolled his eyes.

“All of ‘em?”

“You and Aunt AJ didn’t raise a chore shucker. I ain’t shuckin’ no chores, Pa.”

Big Mac reached into his overalls and fished out a pile of bits, and Sugar rushed forward to scoop them all up. “You two have fun, and don’t cause more trouble than usual?”

Sugar took the bits and ran with them, and Cheese followed just a hair after.

“Have I ever told you your Dad’s so cool?”

“Just about every time you come over, yup.”

“Cause your Dad is so cool!”

“Cheese, you think everyone’s so cool.”

“Well!” Cheese shouted indignantly, “They are!”

Sugar pulled ahead again, laughing, as the two raced neck and neck the whole way to Sugar Cube Corner.

Cheese just managed to pull ahead for the last leg of the run, when he realized at the last second that whoever won got to ring the bell.

He shot over the threshold and paused, still as a stone, to appreciate the tinkle of the little shop bell over the door and grin. Sugar came in just after him and fell to the floor panting.

“Hey, Pound Cake!” Cheese skipped up to the counter, “How much for two milkshakes?”

“On the house, for you two.”

Big Sugar shook his head, and dragged himself up to the counter. “I worked hard doing chores for these bits. It’s not right I don’t get to spend them.”

Pound rolled his eyes as he popped the register open. “Not worth arguing with an Apple on this one.”

“No sir, thank you sir.”

Pound Cake took the bits, counted them, and closed the register with that fun little jingle sound of rattling coins. “Cheese still gets his for free, just because we love him, and he loves free milkshakes. Isn’t that right?”

“I am totally shameless!” Cheese agreed with way too much enthusiasm.

“That a boy.”

They sat down at their table, Cheese swinging his hooves under the seat. Big Sugar started playing with the salt and pepper shakers on the table. “You know, I never asked?”

“Asked what?”

“How come you call just about everypony in town ‘uncle’ or ‘aunt’ something, but those two you just call Pound and Pumpkin.”

“Oh! ‘Cause they’re more like my brother and sister, I guess.”

“... huh.”

“Mum still throws them birthday parties, and they still pretend they don’t look forward to them. It’s like stickers. Everypony loves stickers.”

“I don’t,” Big Sugar crossed his arms over his chest.

“See, everypony loves stickers, but some ponies think ‘cause they’re childish, they’re not supposed to. So they say they don’t. Lots of ponies are like that about my Mum.”

Big Sugar frowned, and crossed his chest tighter. “I don’t like stickers.”

Cheese reached into his mane and pulled out a roll of party stickers he kept for sticker-related emergencies, and slid them to the middle of the table. “I’m just going to leave these here. And, if you don’t like ‘em, that’s fine. I’ll just take them back. But they’re yours if you take ‘em.”

Big Sugar stared at them.

Pound Cake hurried over with the platter with two malted vanilla milkshakes on it, with cherries on top. The best kind of milkshake in the universe. He put them down, one in front of Cheese and Sugar. “Sorry for taking so long-” he paused, looking them both over.

Cheese was beaming up at him with the kind of smile he’d inherited from his mother, and Big Sugar was staring down at his hooves, sliding down in his seat. They were both covered head-to-hoof in glitter stickers.

“Should I ask?”

“I was just saying how you and Pumpkin pretend not to love my Mum’s birthday parties.”

Pound groaned. “Euugh. But they’re like, kid’s parties.”

“Yes!” Cheese slapped the table, firmly. “Who ever looked at a kid and went; wow, they don’t know fun! They don’t know what fun is! Nobody, that’s who. My Mum’s parties are great and you love them.”

Pound looked over both his shoulders, then dropped down low and whispered, “Okay, okay, they’re amazing. My favourite part of the whole year. But you can’t tell your Mum that, or she won’t let me live it down.”

“I’m telling my Mum that as soon as I get home.”

“Dang it.” Pound lifted his head up, looked across the store again, and dropped back down. “Black forest cupcake if you keep quiet.”

“Deal.”

Pound looked Big Sugar up and down, too. “Also, you got any-” Cheese already had the roll of stickers out before he could finish asking. Pound smiled and took a big smiley face from the roll, and stuck it to his right cheek. “Thanks. Be back with the goods.”

“Pleasure doing business with you.”

“You’re going to grow up into an evil little colt, huh?”

“And nobody’s going to stop me because they’re going to love me too much.” Cheese steepled his hooves together, tilted his head down and smiled, “That’s the plan.”

“I won’t tell your Mum you said that, if you give me another sticker.”

“Dang it,” Cheese went through the roll again, and this time Pound picked out a rainbow coming out from the clouds, and stuck it to his forehead, “I keep forgetting, we learned from the same master, huh?”

“Your Mum was one heck of a babysitter. Be right back with the cupcake.”

Big Sugar, still hiding a bit under the table, started pulling himself back up. “Why didn’t he just trade not telling for the cupcake?”

Cheese snorted. “That’s an easy one. He wanted the sticker more than he didn’t want to give me a cupcake.”

Sugar frowned. “But you’d have just given him the sticker.”

“Yeah!” Cheese tapped the table, “and he would have just given me the cupcake. There’s just a way to go about these things, Sugar.”

Sugar went to peel a sticker from himself, paused, and kept it on. “I don’t pretend to understand it, but I guess you do.”

Pound came back, and slid the cupcake in front of Cheese, who took a huge bite of it. He smiled. “Oh, wow, Pumpkin did the baking today?”

“She sure did,” Pound paused, “how’d you guess?”

“You like cooking things all the way through, and Pumpkin likes it when they’re a bit gooey in the middle. I think she makes things a bit sweeter, too, but it’s hard to tell after I already had a bit of the milkshake.”

Pound grinned. “She’s back in the kitchen, if you want to say hi.”

“Oh! Wow! Yes! Please!”

“I’ll go grab her. You just wait right there, little man.”

Big Sugar was staring at Cheese over the table. “What?”

“You really do think everyone’s the coolest, huh?”

Cheese gestured hard at the cupcake. “She made this! Out of like! Nothing! She can make cakes out of nothing! Why do you not seem to get how cool that is!”

“Aunt AJ can do that too. And your Mum. And, like, the Old Cakes.”

“See!” Cheese insisted, “Maybe everyone is just that cool!” he paused. “Except Aunty Rainbow Dash, but she’s Awesome, instead of Cool. She’s really particular about that.”

Big Sugar nodded, and sipped at his hard-earned milkshake. “I guess, as long as you think I’m cool, I don’t mind.”

“Heck yeah you’re cool! You actually earned your milkshake, with work!” Cheese took a big bite of his hard-won cupcake. “I could never do that!”

Sugar laughed, then paused when Cheese wasn’t laughing with him. Which was very unlike him. “What, you’re serious?”

“You know if you’re working, they get mad if you talk to your friends? Or get distracted? Or break for lunch when you’re not supposed to?” Cheese was visibly sweating, “Or get distracted?”

“You already said that one-”

“Dang it, I couldn’t remember if I did or not.”

“Huh.” Sugar sipped his milkshake a bit, “Yeah, that does sound like a problem.”

“I’ve decided that the only thing I can do, is never grow up.” Cheese said with finality, and absolute sincerity. “Everything is perfect like this, so I just need to figure out how to stay like this forever.”

Sugar frowned. “That’s... good luck?”

“Thanks! I’ll need it!” Cheese ate the last of his cupcake, and then began slurping his shake. Sugar had only just started on his.

Pumpkin came out the kitchen door and waved at them, and it was time for Sugar to slide under it a bit again. Cheese giggled - most colts chuckled, but Cheese Pie had a proper giggle, which was so much worse for Sugar right now.

“Still have that crush on her, huh?”

“Shut uppp.”

“You know you’re still covered in stickers, right?” Cheese snorted.

Sugar stared down at himself and ducked under the table.

“Hey, L’il Cheese,” Pumpkin sang when she got to their table. “Heard you liked my cupcakes. Where’s your friend?”

“Oh, he’s just hiding, because he’s covered in stickers. And not everypony can be as shameless as me.”

“You are very shameless,” Pumpkin agreed, and Cheese nodded, total seriousness. “What’s up?”

“Was just talking about how everything’s perfect right now, and I don’t want to grow up.”

Pumpkin slid in to the booth next to Cheese, and Sugar took the opportunity to slink out from under the table and try to ninja for the door. Cheese, because he was an amazing best friend, decided to try and keep Pumpkin distracted long enough that she didn’t see all the light catching Sugar’s glitter stickers on his way out.

Also, he just liked talking to Pumpkin.

“You don’t want to grow up?” Pumpkin asked him, bumping him with a shoulder.

“Why? If things are perfect now, then anything changing would make it worse, right?” Cheese said this with the confidence of a maths formula, “And things are perfect now.”

Pumpkin thought about that. “So, think about a milkshake.”

“I can do that.”

Pumpkin wiped the froth from around his mouth with a paper napkin. “I know you can. Now, that milkshake’s perfect, right?”

Cheese screwed his eyes shut, and poked his tongue out in concentration. “Yeah, why would I imagine a not-perfect milkshake?”

“Okay. Now, grate some chocolate on top.”

Cheese gasped and opened his eyes. “Oh my gosh, that would be more perfect.”

“Exactly,” Pumpkin wiped his nose. “But you didn’t know it could be more perfect until I told you, right?”

“I didn’t even think about chocolate shavings,” Cheese stared in awe, and Pumpkin grinned. “Wow, you’re like, a genius.”

“Yeah, I know,” Pumpkin flicked her hair. “You get wiser when you get older.” She paused, and thought about that. “Okay, some ponies get wiser as they get older.”

“Because some ponies are already born wise?” Cheese asked.

“... yeah,” Pumpkin squinted at him, and made the expression Cheese always made when he was holding something fragile and trying not to break it, “Let’s go with that.”

“Wow. You must be, like, super old then!”

“Ha ha ha,” Pumpkin smiled, “Owch.”

“Owch?”

Pumpkin tussled his hair. “Sorry, L’il Cheese. But us old ponies don’t like getting older, either. We just kind of make the best of it.”

“Well, don’t tell Pound, but... I think you make the best cakes.” Cheese hugged her tight.

“Ha ha. Oh, I am telling him the second you stop hugging me.” She laughed and tried to slide out of the booth. “Hey, let go.”

“You said the second I stop hugging you, right? So, I’m not going to stop hugging you.”

“No!” Pumpkin giggled, trying to push him off her, but he hugged like a pony three times his size. “I have to tell Pound!”

“Noooo!”

Pound poked his head out of the kitchen. “What’s going on?”

Pumpkin’s eyes burned with mischief. “L’il Cheese thinks I make better cakes!”

Pound shrugged. “What, that’s it?”

“Yeah.”

“I already knew that,” Pound held the kitchen door open just a second longer. “I make better fillings and custards though. You’re not patient enough to temper the eggs properly.”

“WHAT?!” Pumpkin shouted at the kitchen, just in time for the door to flap shut. Cheese could hear something heavy being moved in front of it all the way from the dining area. Pumpkin stared Cheese down.

“He’s right,” Cheese said as diplomatically as he could, “it makes a difference. His doesn’t have lumpy bits in it, and yours kind of does.”

“Wow. I can’t believe this betrayal. From my own family!”

Cheese pulled his sticker roll out. “Would this make you feel better?”

Pumpkin glared at the stickers, and angrily took off a laughing face and a four leaf clover and a lucky horseshoe, and grumpily stuck them to her face. “Yes. It does.”

“I’m going to go find where Sugar’s hiding. Um, you be nice to Pound, okay?”

“Temper my eggs... I’ll show him a temper...”

“If you’re going to be mad, you have to give me my stickers back.”

Pumpkin paused, and pouted. “Aww. But I want to be mad and have stickers.”

“You have to pick.”

She frowned, and gestured for the roll back. Then she peeled about a dozen stickers over herself, and made a contented smile. “Okay, that’s a lot better. How do I look?”

“Ridiculous!” Cheese complimented her, “Very shiny.”

“Good.” She thought about that, then squeezed Cheese with another hug. “Just remember, just because you’re going to get older doesn’t mean you have to grow up. Okay?”

Cheese nodded.

“Now, go bring Sugar the rest of his milkshake. I’m going to tell Pound I’m not mad anymore, okay?”

Cheese grabbed the milkshake - eating Sugar’s cherry because while he was a good friend he wasn’t a perfect friend - and skipped for the door.

Behind him, Pumpkin was making sing-song noises at the kitchen door, as Pound dragged heavier things to block it. Both were laughing wildly.

The Aunt

Rarity opened her door and gasped at Pinkie’s terrible state of a mane. Worse than usual, and “usual” had come to include a rubber duck as a fascinator. Which, well, it certainly was a fascinator...

But the bags under her eyes were deep enough to use as Hearthswarming stockings, and she had that unfortunate gray lustre that only meant the worst.

“Hey, Rarity,” Pinkie groaned, “sorry to bother you—”

“No, no, darling, you look simply dreadful. Come in, come in.”

Pinkie rubbed the back of her neck and stepped aside. “About that.”

L’il Cheese looked up at Rarity with eyes as wide as saucers.

“I need a sitter.”

Rarity looked at Pinkie with dawning horror. “You know I love you—”

“Great! So you’ll do it?!”

“There was going to be a but there.”

“I know,” Pinkie sighed. “That’s why I interrupted when I did.”

“I see.” Rarity looked down at L’il Cheese, who was smiling just as wide. Then he fluttered his eyelashes, Celestia help her — wherever she was these days. “Your mother told you to do that, huh?”

“I’m precocious!” L’il Cheese smiled, then wobbled one of his loose front teeth with his tongue. Rarity was enthralled. Normally that would be gross, but he did it in this hypnotically cute way that made her want to drop all her barriers and smoosh him.

Pinkie was trying to hide her budding grin.

“How old is he now, exactly?”

“I’m this many!” L’il Cheese tapped his hoof four times.

“You’re a filthy liar, sweetheart, but I respect the hustle.”

“Darn. Can’t blame a guy for trying, huh, aunty Rarity?” He smiled again, and this time his eyes were misty. Rarity bit the tip of her hoof.

“He’s twelve, now.”

“I see. So he’s not a teenager?”

Pinkie managed a weak smile, in spite of everything. “Thank Celestia, wherever she is right now.”

Rarity snorted. “All right. I was just enjoying the lavish and comfortable lifestyle that being single and childless affords me, but I suppose I can help a friend in need.”

“Believe me, I tried everything, but it’s really hard to find a sitter in Manehattan, and... well, it’s late notice.”

“I’m glad I was your last resort, dear. I really appreciate that.” And Rarity hugged her sincerely. “It’d be my pleasure to take my ‘nephew’ for... a night?”

“At least a night, but ... look, it’s a long story. And when I say it’s a long story—”

“Right,” Rarity nodded, looking down at L’il Cheese, who hadn’t moved an inch. His pupils had grown about a third since she’d last looked though. She had the sneaking suspicion if she looked away for long enough he’d find a violin and start playing sad songs on it. “Is he sticky?”

“Most kids stop being ‘sticky’ around four or five.”

“That’s not what I asked, Pinkie.”

Pinkie sighed. “Okay, L’il Cheese is unusually sticky for his age.”

“I’m very precocious!” L’il Cheese wiggled his tooth again for emphasis.

“Is there anything I need to know, before I take custody of him?”

Pinkie hugged Rarity tight, and for a few seconds too long. “He’ll tell you most of it. He mostly looks after himself. Just give him something to do so he doesn’t get too bored — he’s only a problem if he gets bored, but if he gets bored he’s a big problem, you get me?”

“Ah. I see. Because he’s precocious?”

“Twilight says he really is my son, and I don’t know if she meant it as a compliment or not.”

“Ah.” Rarity repeated. “Ah.” She said, rolling the word around in her mouth. “I promise I shall do my best. If it goes badly, how should I contact you?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll just see it on the news and know, you know?” Pinkie hugged Rarity tight again, and ran away. “Bye! Love you both! Hugs and kisses!”

“Hiya, Aunty Rarity!” Cheese wiggled a wave at her this time. “My mum talks about you a lot.”

“Please, don’t call me that. I’m far too young to be an ‘aunty’.”

Cheese thought about that. “I dunno. You look old enough to me.”

Rarity clutched her heart. “Oh! You little—”

“Mums can have younger sisters too, right?” he beamed.

Rarity paused. “... I shall take it.”

L’il Cheese did a hoofpump. “Aunty Rarity it is.”

“You just like how ‘aunty’ and ‘Rarity’ sound together, don’t you?”

Cheese nodded, then shook his head. “I mean, yeah, but I kind of call all my Mum’s friends that. It makes talking about the Princess kind of weird though.”

“Hrrm. Yes, I imagine it would.” She squinted at him. “Tell me. What do children... do? It’s been so long since Sweetie Belle was your age, and thank Celestia for that.”

“Figuring out what the nearest grown up will let us get away with, then maybe taking about ten percent off that.” L’il Cheese shrugged. “I mean, if we like them. Or we’re good.”

“I see,” Rarity massaged her temples, “I’m starting to remember now. You’re surprisingly honest.”

“My Dad says I’m introspective!”

“I see. And where is he, right now?” Rarity started guiding Cheese through her large — very large — Manehattan apartment, towards the kitchen. “Your mother neglected to mention.”

“We don’t know.” Cheese’s face fell. “I think that’s why Mum’s like that. She says it’s a long story.”

“Ah.” Rarity felt the tension in the air, and decided to gracefully sidestep it, “Well, would they mind you having a soft drink?”

“Soft drink?”

“Ah... the thing you mix bourbon with, but without the bourbon. Cola! That’s it.”

“Oh!” Cheese brightened up, “Yeah, I love cola. I’ll have some of that, please.”

Rarity grabbed her soda from the fridge door, next to the orange juice she only bought to mix her gin with. No need to tell the child that. She poured a big glass of it, put ice in it, and slid it across her marble countertop to the floating barstool that Cheese had climbed up on. “Just one. I don’t want to give you too much sugar before bed.”

Cheese stared at her. “Too much... sugar?”

Rarity massaged her temples again. “Never mind. I forgot who your mother was for a moment. Yes, I imagine that is a foreign concept.”

“That’s so weird.”

“Well, if most other ponies eat too much sugar, they get fat.” Rarity grimaced, and glared at her butt. “I don’t know how your mother does it.”

“Mum’s pretty amazing, I guess.” Cheese sipped his cola. “So what do you do for fun around here?”

Rarity blinked. “Fun? Yes, fun. Recreation. Uh, I host parties — though not the kind you’re used to, I imagine. Boring grown-up parties.”

“Wow. I ask you what you do for fun and you immediately say it’s boring.”

Rarity pointed a threatening hoof at the young man. “When you get older, you start enjoying boring things.” She paused for thought. “Not as much as Twilight, mind you, but I think she was born old.”

“I thought you were too young to like boring stuff, yet?” Cheese hid his smile behind his glass of cola. Rarity laughed.

“Oh, you are a charmer, aren’t you? Well, it’s just a thing that happens to you, I’m afraid. Aside from that, I work, I suppose. Keeping up with fashion takes a lot of it.”

“You enjoy your work?” Cheese asked, in that way that kids have of just casually and sincerely asking very heavy questions that can cause adults months of therapy afterwards. Rarity could tell he didn’t buy her fake smile, so she dropped it and went for honesty.

“No. Most of the time, I don’t. It’s miserable, and I make a lot of mistakes, and I can spend hours on something I just throw in the bin. Then I cry a lot, and eat an entire tub of ice cream by myself, and then I start again until I get it right.”

Cheese stared at her. “Wow. Why?”

“Well, ice cream is very therapeutic, sweetheart.”

Cheese shook his head, leaning over the countertop. He’d found a silly straw... somewhere, and was now sucking his soda out the side of his mouth with it. “No, I mean, why do you do it if you don’t like doing it? That’s so weird.”

“You really are Pinkie Pie’s son, aren’t you?” Rarity went to the fridge and pulled out two boxes of takeout leftovers — both double orders for herself, last night and the night before’s — and put them in the microwave. “Sometimes we do things we don’t enjoy, because we enjoy how it feels to have done them. Does that make sense?”

“No.” Cheese shook his head, “Not even a little.”

“Oh.”

Cheese stuck an elbow on the countertop, resting his chin on his hoof with his ears pricked right up. “So, like, tell me more!”

Rarity thought about it. “I don’t know. I’ve never needed to explain it before. How do I put this into words...” She looked down at the gorgeous pink silk gown she was wearing, the one that matched the fuzzy bunny slippers she was wearing since she hadn’t been expecting guests. “You see this gown?”

“It looks really nice. And comfortable.”

“It is. Though I made it just for myself, it’s probably one of my favourite pieces. And do you know why I only made it for myself?”

Cheese shook his head, listening attentively.

“Because this material is awful to work with. It slips under the sewing machine, the tears are unpatchable. Oh, it feels like a dream to wear, but making it was hours of sheer torture.”

Cheese’s ear flicked. “Was that a pun?”

“‘Sheer’ torture, yes, I’m rather glad you picked up on that.”

Cheese nodded, then made a go-on gesture. Rarity coughed.

“Right. Well, now whenever I wear it, I feel wonderful that I did make it. That it’s absolutely stunning, and it came from me. It makes it all worthwhile in the end. That, and being better than everyone else in Equestria at it. Nobody else could have made this gown, and that’s very important, too.”

Cheese nodded. “Right. So it’s like... planning the perfect party is really hard, but you do it so you know everyone can have a good time later. But with... stuff?”

“That’s... I suppose that’s as good a way to put it as any, yes.” Rarity pulled the takeaway containers steaming-hot out of the microwave, and slid Cheese his box with a pair of chopsticks. He took one in each hoof and tried to pincer the noodles like he was a clapping seal. Rarity grimaced, and reached into her drawers for a fork.

“No, it’s okay, I got this!” Cheese reassured her, missing the first dumpling he tried for, dropping it down the side of his face, and watching it splatter on Rarity’s pristine white tile floor. “Oops.” He giggled.

Rarity heaved a sigh, and gave him the fork anyway, plucking the chopsticks from his loose grips. “You’re a little young to be worrying about those things just yet. You haven’t even got your cutie mark yet, and—” she paused. “Ah, I see.”

Cheese sipped his cola thoughtfully. “I’m sure I’ll be good at something. I think. I mean, I’ll figure it out.”

“You’ll... figure it out?”

“Yeah. You know.” Cheese shrugged. “I’m not in any rush to figure out what the rest of my life is.”

Rarity burst out laughing, and Cheese didn’t know whether to be hurt, or offended, or what, but Rarity held up a hoof, and so he waited. “I’m sorry, it’s just... Sweetie Belle, Applebloom, and Scootaloo? You know those three, yes?”

“Yeah! Of course I do. They’re like... my cousins, I guess? I don’t know how that works. Or are they just really young aunts? I think I need, like, a graph for this.”

Rarity waved him off. “Well, they couldn’t wait to grow up and find their cutie mark. They did everything, and I mean everything. They didn’t work out what their talent was until they gave up looking, and that took years.” Rarity reflexively reached for her liquor cabinet, but decided against it. “Years, and a lot of property damage.”

“That doesn’t sound like a lot of fun, though.” Cheese shrugged. “I don’t really see the point.”

Rarity swooned. “Oh, Pinkie Pie’s done something right with you. You’re not half as insufferable as I thought having a child around would be.”

“Thank... you?”

“I mean it with love, darling, I’m... well, I wasn’t your mother’s first choice for a sitter for a reason, we’ll leave it at that.” Rarity grimaced under the weight of old memories. “Certainly, I expected something to be on fire by now.”

Cheese’s eyes widened. “Oh, no. Am I underachieving?”

“Heavens, darling, you keep behaving like this and I might just volunteer the next time your mother needs something. You’ve been pleasant company.”

Cheese grinned. “So pleasant I can get a scoop of ice cream in this cola?”

“And you’re conniving! A very encouraging trait to see in someone so young.” Rarity got the good vanilla out of the freezer, the one she kept for company and not for dress-depressions, and dropped a scoop into the cola. It made a very pleasant fizzing sound, and the bubbles turned creamy. It looked so enticing she made a second glass of it, and Cheese passed her a second silly-straw.

She made sure to wash it thoroughly under hot water before using it, but she could see the appeal.

“Hrrm.” Rarity looked him up and down. “You know, you’d look very fetching in a dress.”

Cheese blinked. “What? I’m a boy.”

“Sure you are. But those eyelashes? That curly mane? That figure? You’d look smashing in a ball gown.”

Cheese frowned. “You really think so?”

“Of course. I’m making the measurements in my head as we speak. You just scream for a periwinkle ensemble.”

He sipped his ice cream float thoughtfully. “That could be cool. I would look super pretty.”

“You absolutely would.”

“I don’t know if I want to look pretty, though.” He sighed. “Even though I think I’d be really good at it, because I’ve got these killer dimples in my cheeks.”

“You know, darling, I wasn’t going to say anything, but you’re right. You absolutely do. Here, look at me and smile?”

Cheese flashed the high beam megawatt smile at Rarity, and she appraised it like a jeweler with a diamond.

“Like puffy marshmallows, but twice as sweet. And any filly your age would just about murder for those eyelashes?”

“Right??” Cheese nodded, “I have very good self esteem.”

“Hrrm.” Rarity sipped from her crazy straw, and somehow found a way to make it look elegant. “I still think periwinkle is the right call.”

“What about, like, a really puffy shirt? With lots of ruffles?”

Rarity’s eyes sparkled. “Ruffles, you say...”

“Yeah! Then it’s like, shiny, and puffy. I like shiny and puffy things.”

“You know, your mother asked me to design a dress for her when she was just a bit older than you are now. She asked for streamers. And balloons.”

“Wow! That sure does sound like my Mum!”

“Oh, it was ghastly. Truly awful. Thankfully, she let me design her dress in the end. Some of my best work. Your mother is a wonderful baker, but... alas. Her design didn’t fare much better than Applejack’s, and she asked for galoshes.”

“Oh.” Cheese frowned. “What’s wrong with galoshes?”

“They’re useful. They’re not very fashionable.”

Cheese got down from his stool, and pulled his drink down after him, wandering into the living room. Rarity followed after him. “Did all my aunts tell you to make dresses you didn’t like?”

“Dreadful, awful things. On a deadline too. Miserable experience.”

Cheese looked around her apartment. “So, is the moral of the story sometimes we don’t really know what we want, and we just need to find someone else to tell us?”

“The moral of the story is that I am a fashion goddess with impeccable taste, so it’s quite the compliment for me to agree with you vis-a-vis ruffles.”

Cheese snorted. “Thanks, I guess.”

“There wasn’t really a moral, I admit,” Rarity hid the more adult magazines when Cheese wasn’t looking one way, and the coasters and dress scraps when he looked the other. “I’m just a dreadful gossip.”

“What’s a gossip?”

Rarity paused. Turned on Cheese, stared at him. “What’s a—? Oh, you are so sweet and innocent, aren’t you? Gossip is... gossip is when you say things behind ponies’ backs that you wouldn’t necessarily say to them. It’s just a bit of fun.”

“Oh, okay. I think I get it.” Cheese thought about it. “So, kind of like when I tell Big Sugar his Dad is so cool, but I wouldn’t say it to his Dad. Is that a kind of gossip?”

Rarity considered that. “I... suppose it is, yes.” She looked around. “If you wanted that shirt, my work room is just upstairs. Third door on the right.”

“Okay!” Cheese raced up the stairs. “I think I got it.” He counted three doors, opened it, and was buried in a mound of fabric rolls that Rarity had left leaning by the door.

“I should have warned you, there’s a trick to opening it... nevermind,” Rarity called, as she trotted up after him. “Are you still alive under there?”

“Yeah!” Cheese wriggled his way out from under the bolts.

“Good. Pinkie would have been very upset with me.” Rarity’s horn glowed and the mess... well, it stayed a mess, but it became a mess with very clear paths to a raised platform for measurements, and a working table. The sewing machine was bright red, and matched the neat glasses lying beside them.

“Ooh. Those are pretty.”

“What, these?” Rarity put the glasses on and smiled in that sad way that happens whenever someone compliments you on something you wished weren’t noticed at all. “They’re gotten a lot thicker over the years, I’m afraid. Not just a fashion statement.”

“You sound sad about that.”

Rarity ushered him up to the platform. “Well, let’s just say that I fear I am old enough to be ‘aunty’ Rarity. I just don’t like it.”

“Why not?” Cheese tried to hold still as a barrage of measuring tapes snicker-snacked across his body.

“You’re doing better than your mother did. Or Rainbow Dash for that matter. Are you sure you’re Pinkie’s child?”

“I’m trying to count how many different things are in this room, and it’s taking forever.”

Rarity looked around, and smiled. “Ah, yes. My creative chaos saves me again.”

“I don’t want to get older, either.” Cheese admitted, with a solemnity that surprised Rarity.

She frowned, and the tape measures all slapped shut at once. “I was hoping you had your parents’ attention span and wouldn’t notice me dodging the question. I even changed the subject, that usually works.”

“I can hold, like, three trains of thought at the same time.” Cheese grinned. “I’m also thinking about trains right now.”

“... trains?”

“Well I was thinking about trains of thought, but that made me start thinking about actual trains.”

Rarity sighed. “Ah.” She looked over her notes. “You can get down now. I’ve finished taking measurements.”

“Okay!” Cheese sat on the raised platform cross-legged, and watched Rarity attentively.

Rarity moved to the sewing machine, and he watched her the whole time. She frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Watching you make stuff.”

“Yes, I gathered. I suppose I meant why are you doing that?”

“Because it’s interesting!” Cheese started swaying a steady rhythm side to side, since he wanted to fidget but he thought making noise would probably just get him kicked out, “I’ve never seen anybody sew before.”

“Really, never?”

“Well, like... I’ve seen ponies fix things, and that was really cool. But making stuff’s got to be even cooler, doesn’t it?”

Rarity looked at him suspiciously, trying to work out his angle. But Cheese just kept swaying from side to side, smiling at her. Tapping out a simple beat - Rarity’s eyes darted to his hooves and he stopped immediately.

Hrm.

She selected the bolts of fabric. Periwinkle silk and... white lace? For a shirt ruffle? Hrrm. Lace was too much. Cotton?

“Can you play piano?”

“I play accordion. Is that close enough?”

“In the same way a ukulele is close enough to a violin.” Cotton instead of lace, then.

“Oh! Oh! ‘Cause I can play that too! If that helps.”

“... of course you can.” Rarity sighed, adjusting the design in her head. Something with a bit more ‘swish’ to it, a little bit more ‘islands’ by way of ‘polka’? If anyone could design something that would make that combination work, it was her...

The light blue silk flowed like water under her hooves, into the whirring need of the sewing machine. White thread, white cotton. Rarity paused, and looked at the end of the table, where Cheese Pie was resting his chin on the edge of her work surface, eyes wide.

“I thought you’d have gotten bored and wandered off by now.”

“It’s been, like, three minutes?”

“Exactly.” Rarity emphasized. “Three minutes and you’re still watching me?”

“Yeah. I guess?”

Rarity squinted at him over the top of her pince-nez. “Do you want to try? Is that it?”

Cheese laughed. “Ha ha! No way, I’d probably mess it up.”

Rarity nodded, and looked back at her work. “Mm. You probably would, yes.” She paused, and looked back at him with a grimace. “Not to cast shade over your abilities, this is just not... a good place for a beginner to start, I should think.”

“Yeah, I know,” Cheese shrugged, “that’s why I like watching you do it.”

“I see...” Rarity said slowly. “Is this a ploy to get better Hearthswarming presents?”

Cheese looked very unimpressed, and replied in a flat monotone, “My Dad owns a party factory and you’ve met my Mum.”

“Hrrm. Touche.” Rarity tapped her pen to the side of her cheek. “I’m sorry, I just feel like there’s something I’m missing here. You’re a child.”

“Yeah!”

“And you are content to watch me work?”

“Yeah! Content is a good thing, right?”

“Yes, content means satisfied.”

“Oh. Then yeah!”

Rarity tapped her cheek harder. She started chewing on the cap. She chewed so hard in her frustration that the casing broke, and a bitter squirt of black ink shot under her tongue. She spiked the pen into the trash, Cheese watching with wide eyes.

“What-”

“I am an old pony! I am old, and I am boring! I do boring work, and I attend boring parties, and it makes me very happy, but...” Rarity paused, slinking back down in her chair. “I have no idea how to handle young ponies.”

Cheese blinked. “I don’t think you’re boring.”

“I know, and that’s the frightening thing.” Rarity found a kerchief from the scrap pile, and started rubbing the inside of her gums with it. “If you’d been like Sweetie Belle, I could have laughed, called this a terrible evening, and then had your mother owe me a favour. It would have been perfect. But no. You had to be scared to grow up, too.”

“Wait...” Cheese pulled up a chair. “I thought you were already grown up.”

“Darling, it’s so kind of you to say that, but the truth is I would consider who I was at twice your age still a child. You never stop growing up.”

Cheese’s eyes widened. “Oh. Oh no.”

Rarity reached out with her magic to find wherever she’d last put that ice cream float down, just so she could tip it at him. “You see the problem.” She sighed. “You know, I still feel the same as I did at twenty? But then I look in the mirror...” Rarity slurped hard on her silly straw, hard enough to make her cheeks pull in.

“You’ve been living here since you were twenty?” Cheese’s eyes bulged.

Rarity snorted. “Goodness, no, I could barely make by just having my own place in Ponyville at that point.”

Cheese looked at the clothes on ponequins in the work room. “So you were making dresses like this since you were twenty?”

“Heavens, no.” Rarity snorted, “Young me dreamt of making a gown as elegant as the one back there. I think she’d just about die if she saw the Canterlot Boutique show floor. I think she’d die hearing I opened a Canterlot Boutique at all, actually.”

That took a bit longer to put together. “Wait, then why are you scared of getting older?”

Rarity flinched. “I beg your pardon?”

“I mean, I’m scared that when I get my cutie mark, I won’t be a kid anymore, and my life is like perfect right now. And Pumpkin Cake told me my life could get more perfect, but I don’t even know what that means.” Cheese threw himself onto a pile of fabric like it was a heap of autumn leaves. “But you already know your life got better when you got older.”

“I... I suppose it did.” Rarity admitted. “It has been nice to have gone from that young nobody, desperate to be noticed, to the one who others are desperate to be noticed by.”

“That sounds cool,” Cheese sprawled out over the linen, started trying to make snow-angels in it and mostly got tangled. “I would love to get older, if I were you!”

Rarity paused, and considered that. “Really?”

Cheese rolled over to look back at her, pulling half a roll with him, cocooning himself. “Yeah!”

“Well. That’s an interesting opinion,” Rarity concluded, and got back to working on the shirt. “I’d never considered that before.”

The cocoon got tighter, and Cheese giggled as he rolled himself across the floor. “I mean, what’s been the best year of your life so far?”

Rarity tried to concentrate on the shirt, so she didn’t think too hard about the answer. “Well, I suppose every year has been better than the last. So this one.”

“Wow! That’s so cool!”

Rarity paused and squinted at him. Cheese’s cocoon was now three times his width, and his head was popping out of the top of it. “You think everything is cool!”

“Well, you say everything’s boring, and it’s not.” Cheese blew a raspberry at Rarity. “Also, I can’t move. Little help?”

“Hrrm. In a moment. You’ll get in less trouble that way, I think.” Rarity went back to the shirt. “I’m nearly finished, anyway.”

Cheese strained forward and rolled his big cloth ball until he was next to the work bench again, so he could keep watching. “I’ve been good, though!”

“You’ve been gauging my boundaries since the second you walked through my door, and while I must say I am very impressed by your ability to pull the long con, I have not been deceived.” Rarity paused sewing long enough to gesture at the giant fabric ball. “For instance.”

“Ooh. You’re good.”

“Darling, I am the best.” Rarity paused, “And still getting better, apparently.”

Cheese frowned. “That doesn’t really help me, though.”

“Did you not hear me?” Rarity repeated with a laugh. “I said every year’s been better than the last. Do you think I was never your age? There’s a whole world of experiences out there that you haven’t even discovered yet.” Rarity smiled to herself. “I can tell you one thing that gets better every year.”

“What’s that?”

Rarity finished the shirt, held it up to the light to inspect it. Not her finest work, but fine work indeed. “Memories. Every year you’ll have more of them, and they only get better with time.” She stared at the ball, sighed. “Now, let’s finally get you out of that thing so we can try this on.”

Rarity’s horn glowed, and the ball of fabrics around Cheese shrank from a sphere, to a cocoon, to nothing. Then Rarity slipped the shirt onto him and appraised it. A perfect fit. Definitely much easier when they didn’t squirm.

Cheese ran over to a mirror to check it out. “Ooh! This is really nice. It’s soft, and it’s swishy, and it’s a really pretty colour.” He ran up to Rarity and gave her a big hug, and to her surprise, she hugged him back... even if he was just a little sticky.

“Now, you’ll probably grow out of this fairly quickly. Children are like that, unfortunately.” She smiled warmly, though, and gave Cheese a pat on the head. “But you’ll always remember that time your Aunty Rarity made you a nice shirt.”

Cheese nodded again. “I think I’m a little less scared about getting older. Thanks, Aunty.” He chewed his bottom lip in thought. “What do you want to do now?”

“Well,” Rarity thought about it, “My plan was to watch romantic comedies, and eat a lot of ice cream, but I’m not sure if-”

Cheese had already bolted for the door. When Rarity looked out over her stairs landing, it was just in time to see him flop down on her couch and bounce in excitement, a tub of ice cream and a spoon already tucked under an arm.

“Take that shirt off! Ice cream is impossible to wash out!” Rarity stormed down the stairs after him, trying not to giggle.

“Okay! But I also want to practice this gossip thing!”

Rarity grabbed a throw rug for the both of them, an especially fuzzy one that she planned on washing soon anyway. “I think gossip might be one of those things you’ll need to practice when your older...”

“I was gonna say how I think Pumpkin Cake knows Big Sugar has a crush on her, but she’s way too nice to tell him she’s not interested, so she’s just pretending she doesn’t notice it. And I think Big Sugar knows, but he’s pretending not to, because he doesn’t want to be weird. And I like them both a lot, but I don’t really know what to do.”

Rarity bit down hard on her spoon. “Ne-ver mind,” she sang, “the savant awakens. Tell me everything.”

“Doorbell!” Cheese shouted, “Pizza’s here!”

Rarity was already on her hooves for it. “You take that shirt back off before you eat, or I’m getting you a bib.”

“If I wear a bib I can keep the shirt on?”

“... fine. But roll up the sleeves, at least, or you're eating yours with a fork again.”

“Awwww.”

It was not the delivery colt at the door, but a much better rested looking Pinkie Pie. “Hey.”

Rarity frowned. “Is it time already?”

Cheese shot for the door, “Mummy! Mummy! Mummy!” Zipping right past Rarity and colliding with Pinkie’s neck, just as she readied herself like a baseball catcher to receive him. She squeezed him tight, and Rarity felt a pang in her heart.

“Well, I hope you enjoyed your visit, Cheese.”

Cheese twisted in Pinkie’s grip. “Do we have to go now? We just ordered pizza.”

Pinkie laughed, and gave Rarity a knowing smile. “I’m sure Aunty Rarity will be just fine eating it all by herself.”

“Actually, I was just talking to Little Cheese about how dreadful this is going to be for my waistline.” Rarity held the door open a little wider. “I really don’t think I could handle it all by myself, if you’d like to stay a little longer?”

Pinkie blinked in surprise, looking down at Cheese in her hooves. “You think you could-”

“Yes! Pizza with Aunty Rarity!” Cheese whooped, and shot right back inside to snuggle himself deeper under the throw rug, waiting patiently for the two adults to come back so he could unpause Weirder Than Fiction, a movie Rarity had picked expecting to be schlocky but had found herself surprisingly invested in.

It wouldn’t have been the same finishing it by herself.

Pinkie nudged Rarity, her eyes sparkling. “That’s a really nice shirt.”

“You could learn from your son a few lessons in sitting still.”

Pinkie did that sharp inhale Rarity had come to associate with the phrase; ‘Can you believe it???’, with the vital triple question mark. “I know! It’s so weird! He must have gotten it from his Dad, because he sure as sugar didn’t get it from me.”

Rarity giggled. “Next time you’re in the neighbourhood, consider bumping me up a few places from last resort. I certainly have enough guest rooms for you, if you give me enough warning to clean next time.”

Pinkie squeezed Rarity in a big hug. That, Cheese had learned from her. “Thanks, Rarity. It looks like L’il Cheese really had fun, huh?”

“Yes, well, of course he did.” Rarity flicked her mane up and out of her eyes. “I still know how to be ‘hip’ and ‘with it’ with today’s youth, I should say.” Then, after a moment, in a much lower voice. “It was my pleasure, really.”

“Mum! Mum!” Cheese patted the spot next to him on Rarity’s couch — the side Rarity hadn’t been sitting on, she noted — “I’ll catch you up! I want to know what happens!”

“Ooh. Is this a comedy, or a tragedy?”

“That’s what we have to find out!” Cheese said excitedly, before filling his mother in, in that way children have of stringing things together in a very literal, half-remembered way. Pinkie, to her credit, nodded along attentively.

Pinkie really had grown up to be a great mother, hadn’t she?

Rarity made a note to herself to buy some grey hair dye. If she were to be getting older, she was going to do it on her terms. Dignified, distinguished.

Fearless.

Proud to be someone’s cool aunt.

The Vikings

Cheese had decided to skip school to fight vikings.

This was a very reasonable course of action that took some explaining.

Ever since he came home from Rarity’s, Cheese Pie had committed to making a memory box. His Mum had said it should be a happy memory box, and just filled with good things, but L’il Cheese wanted to fill it with important memories too. And not all important memories were good ones.

But then his Mum said if it was important, he probably wouldn’t need help remembering it. But it was really easy to forget the little things that made him happy, because they didn’t seem important. Stuff like helping her cut up fruit to make pies with, or trips out with his Dad. They were the things you needed help remembering later.

Then he said he’d never be too old to help her bake so he wouldn’t need to remember it, and his Mum gave him a really sad smile and said “Oh, sweetheart,” and that had made him scared, so he gave her a quick hug and ran away.

He made a Solemn Vow to himself that he’d never be too old to help his Mum bake. Never, ever, ever.

He told Big Sugar about his idea and, because Big Sugar was really cool like that, instead of making fun of him he asked his Dad if he could make them both boxes. And because Bigger Macintosh was really cool like that, he made them both big boxes out of applewood that he cut, carved, planed and sanded himself. They had a lid that you could slide off to put stuff in them.

He’d burned a picture of Big Sugar’s cutie mark - Big Macintosh could make pictures by burning wood seriously how cool was that - onto the top of his son’s, and then told Cheese that he’d do his too when he got his mark.

It was the first time that Cheese had really wanted one.

That doesn’t really get to the vikings though, which Cheese was definitely fighting right now, and are very important.

See, this morning he got a letter from Seddie and Peddie, and he went to put it in his memory box. Except when he went to put it in the box (on top of a menu from Sugarcube Corner and underneath his first tooth to fall out) he couldn’t put it in his box, because he couldn’t find it.

This was obviously a problem, because he had a very safe spot under his bed where he kept it, that nobody else knew about.

Which means, when you think about it, it had obviously been taken. Stolen, really. But it was the only thing that seemed to be taken. His money box still rattled with coins, and none of his Mum’s nice plates were taken, or smashed. Whatever Boneless 5 saw while keeping guard last night had scared him into silence.

So, who goes into a town at night, and steals a wooden chest kept under a bed?

If the town wasn’t landlocked, he’d have said pirates. It couldn’t have been ninjas, either, because... well he didn’t have a good reason, he just kind of knew in his gut that ninjas didn’t take treasure boxes like that.

No. Who went super far inland to steal valuable stuff?

Vikings. Had to be vikings.

This he had assessed very quickly, because he couldn’t have lost the box. It lived under his bed. And nobody else would want to take something like that.

Which is how we get to this present moment.

It was halfway to the first lunch break and Cheese Pie still hadn’t found the vikings that had stolen his memory box.

He was probably going to have to fight them, but he was ready for that. His parents both thought that knowing how to swashbuckle would be a very important life skill for any child of theirs. He’d been taking swordfighting lessons since he was old enough to swing a ukulele.

“You’re my son,” his Dad had said very seriously (and his Dad didn’t get very serious very often so it was a big deal), “so you’re going to have to be able to handle yourself in a fight while carrying a musical solo. It might save your life some day.”

So, today, he had Boneless 5 tied by a red sash to his hip, and got every part from Pirates of Palomino down perfect, so really vikings should be more scared of him. If they didn’t know that, they were going to find out when he found them.

When he found them.

He ran up to the three mares running flower stands in the main street. One of them, Tulip, bent down to pinch his cheeks. Cheese accepted this stoically.

“Aren’t you looking fierce today,” her voice trembled in awe.

“I am hunting for vikings,” he declared, looking off towards the horizon very heroically. “Have you seen any?”

“Thank goodness, I have not.” Tulip looked back at her cart. “Would the brave viking hunter like a flower for his lapel?”

“Yes,” Cheese said so stoically and bravely that Tulip was compelled to pin the flower to his lapel for him. It was pink, the colour of heroism.

Petunia waved from her cart across the street. “What do vikings look like?”

“Ah. I think they walk on two legs, so they have two arms free to swing their big axes. And they’re covered in red hair, and they have big bushy beards. And metal hats.”

Petunia frowned. “That sounds scary. And you’re running towards them?”

“I can’t hunt for vikings by running away from them.” Cheese nodded. “I guess I could walk towards them, but I want to get to them quicker. So I’m running.”

Petunia was stunned into silence by his impeccable logic and reasoning. “Well, if you’re looking for vikings, it sounds like you should listen for screaming, and go towards it. If that’s what they’re like.”

Flashbulb moment. “Wow. That is the smartest thing I’ve ever heard. You’re so right.” He twitched his ears. “I don’t hear any screaming though.”

“That’s good, right?”

Cheese frowned intensely. “Maybe. Or it just means they’ve gotten too far away. Or they’re hiding. But now I know to listen for screams, so that might help.”

Buttercup, who had been squinting at him in silence until now, finally spoke up. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school right now?”

Cheese shook his head. “I have no time to be in school. Vikings stole my box.”

That didn’t convince her. “You saw the vikings that did it?”

“Of course not,” Cheese scoffed, “or I would have stopped them.”

Buttercup narrowed her eyes. “So how do you know it was vikings?”

“Who else would steal my memory box this far inland?” Cheese paused, and tapped his chin. “Though, maybe I was too hasty to rule out ninjas.”

“It can’t have been ninjas,” Tulip agreed. “I don’t know why, but ninjas just... doesn’t seem right.”

“I thought so too! So that just leaves vikings.”

“I mean, the kid makes sense,” Petunia gave Buttercup a serene look, full of adultly wisdom. “I’m definitely going to keep an eye out for vikings, now.”

“Would you?” Cheese sighed in relief, “because that would be a big help.”

“I’ll scream if I see any,” Petunia gave him an earnest toothy grin, which Buttercup rolled her eyes at.

“I’ll scream louder.” Tulip added. Petunia and Tulip locked eyes, this had obviously become a matter of pride.

Buttercup squinted at him. “Maybe we should call your parents, before you get into trouble.”

“I’ll only get in trouble if you tell my parents!” Cheese knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as he said it. Immediately, Tulip and Petunia stopped smiling.

“Your mum doesn’t know where you are?” Tulip asked.

Petunia nodded at Buttercup. “We should probably tell Pinkie Pie.”

“No! I mean, it’s fine. It’s- I’m going to school now. See?” Cheese smiled very wide and started walking in the direction of school. “I’m just really late.”

Buttercup didn’t seem satisfied by that, but Petunia and Tulip looked at her and said without words; Just take the win. Buttercup sighed.

“If I see you out here again, though, I’m going straight to your mother. Clear?”

Cheese nodded, and ran.

His mum knowing he was cutting school was way scarier than vikings.

Still. He was doing totally fine until Buttercup wondered why he was out by himself. That was suspicious, especially because Cheese Pie did not exactly exude an aura of mature responsibility.

His friend Big Sugar totally did though. And he knew how valuable the box was. And now Cheese was heading towards school anyway.

It was nearly first recess. He could totally get Big Sugar outside without Mrs Cheerilee noticing.

Big Sugar pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d given up on trying to flick the leaves off his fur, since the bushes they were hiding in were dripping with sap that made it impossible.

Cheese didn’t mind because it was great camouflage, and he was naturally sticky anyway. And Big Sugar was enough of a farm kid to deal. But nopony else would look for them here!

“Vikings.” Big Sugar said flatly. “You’re trying to find Vikings to fight.”

“I’m just saying, they took my memory box, they’ll totally get yours too.”

“You are saying it,” Big Sugar un-gave-up on brushing the leaves off, but three more stuck for every one he got off. He gave up again. “You have to do this now?”

Cheese nodded so hard he got dizzy. “Or else they could get away! Vikings don’t wait for school hours.”

“And you need me for...?”

“So I don’t get in trouble.” Cheese pointed at Sugar. “The grownups trust you’re doing what you’re supposed to do.”

Big Sugar thought about that. “So, you’re saying there are vikings.”

“Uh huh.”

“That sounds pretty dangerous.”

“Vikings are very dangerous.”

“And you’re definitely going to cut school, anyway?”

“Obviously.”

Big Sugar’s expression became meditative, and the little puzzle pieces in his head started clicking together. “If we get caught, this was all your idea, and I was just trying my best to keep you from getting hurt?” Big Sugar paused. “I mean, from the vikings. Protect you from the very real vikings.”

“Duh!” Cheese shouted, then popped his head out of the bush to make sure nobody had heard him. Big Sugar pulled him right back down. “The vikings are very real and very dangerous.”

Big Sugar seemed satisfied with that. “Okay, well, vikings sounds way better than grammar.” He offered his hoof, and Cheese shook it vigorously. “Where do you want to look for them first?”

“We need to get somewhere really high up.” Cheese thought about that. “I think Aunty Princess Twilight kept a hot air balloon around here somewhere...”

Sugar’s eyes went wide for a moment. “If we do that, we’ll uh...” he thought about it, “be way too obvious a target for the vikings. They’ll see us from a mile away.”

“Right,” Cheese agreed. “Good thinking.”

Sugar breathed out. “Sweet Apple Acres is pretty high up. We could just climb up to the top of the barn and that’ll give us a good view.”

“Hey! Yeah! Great thinking!” Cheese started moving for it, dragging Sugar behind him, “Maybe they’ll have gone through to take your apples, too.”

Big Sugar ran just after him as, far behind them, the bell rang to call everyone back in from recess.

Big Sugar’s hoof shot across Cheese Pie’s chest as they stepped up to the Acres gates. “Careful now. My parents see us, and we’ll get in trouble.”

“Right, and then the vikings will get away.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Sugar nodded, “Ma’s going to be in the house somewhere, probably reading. Pa’s usually out in the fields somewhere, so we just gotta make sure we see him before he sees us. So keep your eyes peeled.”

Cheese saluted, and crouched low. Sugar followed his lead, and they crept through Sweet Apple Acres, pressing their backs to the rows of apple trees and listening carefully for Big Mac’s heavy hooves. Dirt wasn’t very loud, though, so they had to move slow - which was just more time to get caught.

“You can see the barn from the house,” Sugar told him, “so we gotta sneak all the way around.”

“This isn’t nearly as fun as a hot air balloon,” Cheese whined, tugging on Sugar’s shoulder. Sugar shrugged him off.

“It’s a lot safer. Besides, we can grab lunch on the way back down.”

“I could have packed us a picnic for the balloon ride.” Cheese bumped into Sugar, but Sugar stood firm. Way too much muscle.

“Where’d you have gotten the food to pack without asking your Mum?”

“Look! Okay! I guess!”

Sugar shushed him, and they pressed on in a long loop around the house towards the barn. It only took a few minutes, but they were tense, and a bit fun. Sugar had a dumb grin the entire time they stalked through the treeline, like guerilla soldiers.

The barn was in a long clearing, which meant they had to cross the last bit in a flat sprint. There was nothing else for it. They cleared the distance and dove into a pile of hay, keeping very still and panting with their ears pricked up, waiting.

No sounds.

“I think we made it.” Big Sugar pointed to a ladder at the back of the barn. “Up there’s the lookout. Up there, you can see the whole of Ponyville.”

Cheese clapped his forehooves, and the smack died in the hay bale soundproofing. No echoes in here. “Perfect. From there, we plan our next move.”

Big Sugar took the lead, and Cheese followed suit. At the top of the barn was a lookout with a telescope pointed down at the town.

Set up next to it was an easel with charcoals and water colours. The charcoal sketches went up on butchers paper sheafs that littered the lookout floor like autumn leaves.

Another pot of tiny paint jars were stacked on a drawing of Carousel Boutique, and drip-drying on the backs of art magazines was a miniature army of dwarves arranged in formation. Squads, regiments. Especially intricate detailing had been put on the artillery with the tiniest brush strokes.

A few watercolours on canvas were propped up in the corners, and Cheese made a curious note that they were all landscapes and buildings. Technical, rather than expressive.

Sugar never would have Cheese’s imagination. But he had an attention for detail, a discipline and a focus that Cheese couldn’t help but feel really jealous of.

“Wow. I’ve never been up here before.” Cheese whispered, getting down low to the dwarves. “You haven’t told me about any of this stuff.”

Sugar shrugged uncomfortably. “I don’t like anyone seeing my unfinished work is all.”

“But you haven’t shown me any of your finished stuff, either!”

“I’ll finish something one day,” Sugar finished, looking at his easel. "Maybe I'll show you for real, then." Cheese was pretty sure all these drawings looked finished to him, though.

He looked through the telescope. “Wow. You really can see the whole town from here.” Cheese flicked from Sugarcube Corner to the Friendship Castle. “I don’t see any vikings though.”

Sugar cleared his throat. “Were you expecting to?”

“I mean,” Cheese swept the scope back to his house, “They’ve gotta be somewhere. They can’t have gotten that far.”

“I thought you were just saying that,” Sugar’s voice wavered somewhere between guilt and concern, “I thought you just wanted to get out of school. That was cool. I didn’t think you actually believed the viking stuff.”

“What?” Cheese dropped the scope and spun on a back hoof, “I didn’t just cut school, I cut recess. This is really important to me.”

“Yeah, but the vikings stuff? You sure you just didn’t look hard enough?”

“I looked everywhere I’ve ever put it.” Cheese said firmly. “So it had to be vikings. Because if it’s vikings, I can do something about it. And if I can do something about it, then I don’t have to be sad about it. So it has to be vikings.”

Sugar blinked. “Wait, so, you don’t believe it’s vikings. You just believe you believe it’s vikings, so you don’t gotta be sad?”

Cheese felt his bottom lip tremble, and he hated it. His teeth were just about to start chattering.

Sugar pointed off to the left. “This is the south side of town. Closest ocean’s to the west. So they’ll have headed that way.”

“Okay.” Cheese said, wiping his eyes so he didn’t smudge the eyepiece. He couldn’t see any vikings yet, but he just knew they were out there.

Sugar found a magazine he liked from the pile and snapped it open, making the same cracking sound Cheese heard when Bigger Macintosh opened a newspaper. “When you’re done looking, it’ll be lunch. We’ll go get something from my Mum in the house.”

“Okay.” Cheese wiped his nose again. “You going to fight them with me?”

Big Sugar ruffled Cheese’s poofy hair. “I got your back, sugarcube.”

Cheese snort-laughed so hard he blew a snot bubble.

Pinkie Pie all but kicked in the door to the farmhouse. Sugar Belle jumped, but Big Macintosh didn’t even blink. Just waved a silent greeting while Sugar Belle clutched her chest.

“Is Little Cheese here? Rose’s daughter said she wasn’t in school, and I can’t find him-”

It was at this point that she saw Cheese’s head poking over the Apple family dinner table. Right where he dove for cover. Pinkie dove for him and swept him up in a big squeezing hug, peppering him with kisses. Boneless 5 squeaked as he was caught up in it too.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”

“I was watching him.” Big Sugar said, sitting next where Cheese had been. “He’s been safe.”

The gears in Big Macintosh’s brain whirred into motion. “Now, just hang on a moment. Weren’t you supposed to be in school?”

Big Sugar looked his dad square in the eye. “I cut grammar to make sure Cheese didn’t borrow the Princess’s old hot air balloon.”

Big Macintosh looked over at L’il Cheese and thought about it. “As long as it was just grammar, s’pose you did the right thing.” He nodded to Pinkie, then went back to his newspaper.

Pinkie didn’t stop squeezing Cheese to ask questions. “What would you need a hot air balloon for?”

He managed to wriggle in his mum’s grip enough to answer anyway. “I was looking for vikings.”

Pinkie understood immediately. “You couldn’t find your box.”

“Yeah!”

“Aw. Sweetheart, I was cleaning it.” Her nose crinkled up. “You put a tooth in it.”

“My first tooth.” Cheese corrected, because that was the important bit. “Wait, you had it?”

Sugar stared at Cheese. “You didn’t ask your Mum?”

Cheese blushed furiously. “She was sleeping in! I didn’t want to wake her up!”

Pinkie squeezed him that much harder. “I put your tooth in a plastic thingy, so it wouldn’t rot.”

“Wait, teeth rot when they fall out?” Cheese’s face scrunched up tight. “Ew.”

“Yeah!” Pinkie tapped him on the head, “Ew! is right. I already put your box back under your bed.” Pinkie looked back up across the dining table to Big Macintosh. “Thanks again, by the way. He really does love what you did with it.”

Big Macintosh smiled, not taking his eyes off his paper. “Eeyup.”

“Come on sweetie. Let’s get you home, and we’ll bake a lovely cheesecake for the Apples to thank them for being so nice today.”

Sugar Belle leaned against the kitchen doorframe. “You really don’t have to do that. He was no trouble at all.”

“It’s not trouble at all for me to give you a proper thank you either.” Pinkie insisted. “Come on. Let’s get you home. There’s no vikings for you to fight today.”

“Today?” Cheese asked hopefully.

Pinkie gave him a very serious look. It wasn’t even a pretend serious look, either. “Your father and I are very serious about those swordfighting lessons, young man.”

Cheese tried to give a fierce nod, but it came out way more timid than he’d have liked. “Yes, mum.”

“Come on, then.” Pinkie broke the hug, and gave one last grateful look to the Apples as she made her way for the door, far slower than how she’d come in. “Thank you, again.”

Big Sugar ran out to the front porch to wave them off, Sugar Belle standing just behind him, watching them go as her heart rate returned to its resting level at last.

Pinkie leaned down and whispered to Cheese, even though they were far enough away from the house that nobody could have heard her anyway. “I wouldn’t have worried if I knew you were with your friends.”

Cheese would always remember that.

The Best Man

Sometimes L’il Cheese had thoughts that were too big for his head. It felt like trying to push a big lump of playdough through the mould.

He’d sort of been having them ever since aunty Rarity had asked him if he wanted to wear a dress or not. Because he had to think about why he didn’t. It seemed like most of the answer came down to “because he felt like he wasn’t supposed to”.

Not that he didn’t love his poofy silk shirt. His poofy shirt was the most perfect thing he’d ever had. But it was the first time somebody had ever told him it was a choice he could make before.

It still felt like the right choice. But he was sitting at the Apple family kitchen table, watching Big Sugar paint his miniatures – now that Cheese Pie knew about them, it was safe to take them down from their hiding place – thinking that his friend wouldn’t even have to think about it. Big Sugar wouldn’t have even thought there was a choice.

So what did it mean that Cheese did, even if he chose the same thing in the end?

Then Big Sugar’s Dad popped his head in. “I’m going to do some work on the lathe. You boys want to help?”

Big Sugar’s ear flicked. “Sorry, pa, but I only got so long to do this before the paint dries, and the paint ain’t cheap.”

Bigger Macintosh looked at his son’s work, and Cheese thought he looked just the tiniest bit proud. “Eeyup.”

L’il Cheese pushed his chair out. “Can I help?”

Bigger Macintosh tried to hide his surprise. “You sure?”

Big Sugar snorted. “He thinks ponies who can do things are wizards. He thinks woodwork is basically magic.”

“Your Dad! Is going to turn! A tree! Into furniture!” Cheese made a sharp pointing gesture with each pause. “That is basically magic!”

“See?”

Bigger Macintosh scratched the back of his head as he thought about it for a second. “I guess so. Do you think you can pass me my tools, when I ask?”

Cheese nodded so hard he got dizzy.

“Well. Can’t fault you for enthusiasm.” Bigger Macintosh chuckled. “We’ll be in the barn, then, if’n you need us.”

“I won’t,” Sugar reassured him. Because Sugar was independent. Bigger Mac’s eyes twinkled when he said that, but his son was too busy painting to notice.

Big Mac took a lazy lead, and even though he wasn’t going fast at all Cheese still had to skip to keep up with his long strides.

“You really think carpentry’s magic, huh?”

Cheese nodded emphatically, nearly tripping over his hooves trying to coordinate it with his awkward skips. “I think it’s the coolest, stuff like that.”

Macintosh mulled it over. Then, finally, “I guess. Mostly, it’s just work that needs doing.”

It was the coolest possible way to answer that.

Big Macintosh took a long stump of applewood and stuck it on what looked like a big apple corer. It had a pedal connected to bike parts that made the stump spin, and he pressed it a few times to make sure it was close enough to the centere.

“Tools are hanging on the wall over there. Try to remember where you get everything from.” Big Macintosh took a leather apron off a rack on the wall and two pairs of safety goggles. He tossed one to Cheese. “Don’t care how you think they look. Not letting you go home with a splinter in your eye.”

Cheese snapped the elastic and wriggled them onto his head, trying to find a shiny enough piece of metal to see his reflection in. “Are you kidding? I look like a mad scientist.”

Big Mac looked at him, mulled it over, and finally nodded. “Mad chemist maybe. You got the hair for it.”

“Do you know chemistry, too?” Cheese whispered in awe.

Macintosh shook his head. “Nope. Just wood.”

“Wood’s still cool.”

“Wood still needs doing.” Macintosh pointed out. “Pass me the big chisel with the red handle, for starters.”

Cheese took it off the wall, and it was about as heavy as a baseball bat. “Whoa. This thing’s big.”

“Eeyup. Gotta get all this,” Big Mac pointed to the log, “to be a bit smaller.” he took the chisel and levered it against the stump on a sliding rest. His hoof started pumping the pedal, and flakes of wood like gigantic pencil shavings came off the stump.

Big Mac was silent as he worked, and Cheese watched him closely. “Why do you hold the chisel like that?”

“So it doesn’t catch in the wood. Just smoothing it down.”

“Oh.” He looked at the weird stump. It was lumpy. “Did you take the bark off with an axe?”

“Eeyup. Much easier.”

“Cool.”

Either Big Mac really didn’t mind the questions like most grownups did, or he was just really patient. Cheese wanted to take advantage of that, but he really couldn’t think of any more to ask. Big Mac was just making it look too easy, even though Cheese knew in his gut he’d never be able to do anything like that.

After a few minutes of quiet work, the log had become a long, smooth cylinder. It was hard to remember it was ever a log. Big Mac passed the chisel back to Cheese. “Blue handle this time.”

Cheese scrambled up to the tool wall and put the red chisel back exactly how he found it, and took the blue chisel back over to the lathe. Big Mac gave him a short nod, and got back into it.

He pressed down on the top of the chisel with one hoof as he worked the pedals, making a steady slope as the cylinder got narrower, like a vase or a chair leg did.

“What’s this for?”

“One of the legs on my bed’s getting old. I’m not a light pony, either. Bed’s antique, so I’d rather replace the leg than the whole bed.”

Cheese nodded. “What’s the difference between something that’s old, and something that’s antique?”

Big Mac thought about that. “How much you still like it, I guess. Something’s old, you get rid of it. Something’s antique, you look after it. Think that’s all there is to it.”

“You’re so wise,” Cheese breathed.

Big Mac smirked. “You want to try?”

Cheese shook his head, even though Big Mac was too focused on the wood to see. “I think I’d just mess it up.”

“It’s good to know your limits,” he agreed, just in time for his chisel to catch on the wood. Mac flinched fast, but the chisel still flicked up and sliced into the side of his foreleg. He didn’t cry out, he just hissed and put the cut to his mouth, sucking on it. From what Cheese could see of it, it looked pretty deep.

Big Mac didn’t even swear a little.

“Big gnarl,” he said, and that was as much of an explanation as Cheese was going to get. “You see that drawer over there?” he asked between suckles, “There’s a flask in it. Unscrew the lid for me, bring it over, would you?”

Cheese ran over, and did exactly that. The flask had Macintosh’s cutie mark on it, and it smelled like paint thinner. He ran it back, careful not to breathe too much of it in.

Big Mac took it off him, hissed as he poured some of it into the cut, and then took three deep swigs from it, wiping his lips with the back of his good foreleg. “Thanks.”

“What is that?”

Big Mac winced. “Whiskey. Aged in apple barrels. Stronger than most folks care for, so I just make it for myself.” Mac glanced down at the wound. Cheese could see that it was definitely going to scar. “Could you go tell Sugar to get me the first aid kit? He knows where it is.”

Cheese ran the entire way to the farmhouse. When he got there, Sugar was standing back from the table, admiring his drying handiwork. He waved to Cheese as the door burst open with a paint-spattered leg. “Have fun?”

“Your dad asked for the first aid kit.”

Sugar got worried, the miniatures immediately forgotten. “Pa hurt himself? Ah, lemme grab it.”

He took a nervous jog to a cupboard, and trotted back with a sewing kit box. Cheese took it off him and started running back to barn, Big Sugar just a few paces behind him the whole way.

“Ain’t much,” Big Mac said the second he saw his son turn the corner, “so don’t get too worried.”

“Cheese doesn’t do things half-measures. I got worried.”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac nodded, “I can see that. How good are you with stitches?”

Big Sugar’s face went white. “Me? Helped Ma sew, but I don’t think that’s the same thing.”

“Well,” Big Mac gestured with a flick of his head, “Now’s as good a time to learn as any. Needle and thread’s in the box.”

Big Sugar grabbed the needle and thread, and gulped as he threaded it. His Dad tipped his head to the flask. “Have a little bit to steady your hooves. No more than that though.” He paused, “Probably don’t tell your mother, either.”

Sugar nodded, screwed his eyes shut, tipped his head back and took a deep gulp. Cheese’s eyes bulged — he had to hold his breath around it! Sugar was keeping the whole thing down.

He wiped his lips the same way his Dad had, and took a rasping, ragged breath. Big Mac silently nursed the cut, not saying a word as he waited. “Give it a few seconds.”

Sugar bobbed his head, swaying just a bit on his hooves. He shook himself, and steadied. The nervousness was gone, and he took a firm grip of the needle and thread.

“Not that special is it?” his Dad asked.

“No sir.” Sugar got stuck between a laugh and a frown. “Feel a little sick, actually.”

Big Mac nodded, holding his cut out for Sugar to start working on it. “Not too long now, you can have some cider with dinner. But don’t think you’re missing out on anything.”

Sugar nodded. Then he got to work with the stiches. Big Mac closed his eyes and grit his teeth, but didn’t say a word as Sugar carefully made his way up the cut.

Cheese watched, hypnotized, as Sugar made the last stitch. “Scissors?”

Cheese made the cut. Sugar wrapped a linen bandage around it tight. Big Macintosh looked at the work and rubbed Sugar’s hair with his good leg.

“Proud of you.”

Sugar tried to play it off, even though he was absolutely glowing. “What happened?”

“Tangle in the wood caught the chisel.” Big Mac grunted, getting up to wipe his blood off the lathe. He grimaced — some had soaked into the porous wood. “Didn’t notice it.”

“You’re a wizard.” Cheese breathed. Both of them turned to stare at him. Cheese gestured at the bandage with both hooves. “I cry when I get a splinter!”

Big Mac thought very hard about how to answer that. “You’re just sensitive. Ain’t nothing wrong with that. You’re tough in other ways.”

Sugar looked surprised. “He is?” Then he got ashamed and stared down at his hooves. “Sorry. Didn’t mean it like that.”

“Drink will do that.” Big Mac reassured him, and apologized for him at the same time.

Cheese guessed the stuff that made you not think about messing up stitches also made you not worry about messing up saying stuff when you should. So he wasn’t upset at Sugar, but he had to admit he was still bummed out about what he said.

“Listen. Some ponies can keep a brave face. Other ponies aren’t too scared to say they like stickers. Or give compliments.” Bigger Macintosh gave Sugar a Look, and Sugar obviously got something that Cheese didn’t yet. “Other ponies can be brave when they have to do stitches for the first time. You did good, Sugar.”

Sugar kept staring down at the ground, but he blushed more than Cheese was used to seeing him. “Thanks, Pa.”

“Takes all sorts.” Big Mac thought about it a bit more, gingerly rubbing the bandaged hoof. “Just have the right friends, and the rest will sort itself out.”

“You’re my best friend,” Sugar insisted, “and you think I’m cool. So that should count for something.”

It did. But Macintosh squinted at his son. “You eaten today?”

“Haven’t had lunch yet.”

He sighed, and tossed his son up onto his back, keeping his weight off his bad hoof as much as possible. “Sorry, L’il Cheese, you best head on home now. We need to get some bread and water into this one.” Then, over his shoulder, “You keep your head over the side now, you here?”

“Sure, pop. Why?”

“Hope you don’t find out.” Big Mac shook his head. “Did you drink more’n I said just to be a grownup?”

“Mebbe, Pa.”

Big Mac snorted. “Hope you remember this when you’re a teenager.” Then, back to Cheese. “Sorry for chasing you off. Time’s a factor for Doctor Sugar.”

“Bye, best friend!” Sugar waved wobbly at him from his Dad’s back. Cheese waved back as Big Mac trotted towards the barn.

He kept expecting to hear Sugar hurl the whole time he was leaving, but he never did. Probably because Sugar was tougher than he was.

When Cheese got home, the house smelled amazing. His Dad cooked dinner on the nights he was home, and tonight—

“Hey! You’re just in time to be my taste tester!”

L’il Cheese ran to the kitchen. His Dad was wearing a pink apron and a silly chef’s hat, and was pulling a casserole out of the oven. He put a bit on a tablespoon and passed it to L’il Cheese, who blew on it a ton before taking a bite.

“This is so good! What is it?”

“Cinnamon maple squash. I think. I got the recipe while I was in Whinnieapolis.” His Dad hung his apron up, and leaned down low for a whisper. “Just between you and me, I think your mother has a bit of a sweet tooth.”

L’il Cheese giggled. “Is she home yet?”

“Just me and my favourite son, right now.” His Dad looked at the cupboards. “Do you know where the lightbulbs are?”

“I’m your only son!”

“You’re still my favourite,” Sandwich insisted.

“They’re above the microwave.”

“Ah! So they are.” His Dad hooked a dining room chair over to climb up and grab it, then started shuffling it into the living room. “Better do this before it gets dark.” He paused. “Hey, favourite son?”

“Yes, favourite Dad?”

“You still got that chocolate chess set your aunt Twilight got you for your birthday?”

“Hey yeah!” Cheese ran to get it from the cupboard. “It’s supposed to be really nice chocolate, but I’m not really into chess.”

“Neither am I,” his Dad admitted, climbing back up onto the chair, “but you eat the pieces when you lose them, right?”

“You eat the ones you take.”

“Huh! That makes more sense.” His Dad nodded, finding his balance as he reached up to the ceiling. The chair wobbled. “It’ll be more fun if we play by my rules though. So we’ll eat the pieces that get taken.”

“Your rules?”

“Grab the board and I’ll show you,” he said, unscrewing the dead bulb from the ceiling. He looked for a place to put it down, then tossed it under arm onto a couch cushion. “Light switch is definitely off, right?”

L’il Cheese checked. “It is. I got the board.”

“You know how to set up the pieces?”

“Yeah!” L’il Cheese tore through the plastic clingfilm on the box with his teeth, and checked the expiry date. Still good! “I dibs playing milk chocolate, by the way.”

“Is the other side white or dark chocolate?”

“White.”

“Darn it.” His Dad sighed. “I have to respect the sanctity of the dibs.”

“I can play white instead?” L’il Cheese offered.

“This is why you’re my favourite son.” His Dad took a quick look at the board being set up. “Queen goes on the left.”

“I always get that mixed up.”

His Dad started screwing the light bulb as the front door opened.

“I’m home with groceries!” his Mum shouted.

Cheese Sandwich overbalanced on the chair. It went down one way and he went down on the other. He managed to land on the sofa, but the hoof that went down to brace him went right down on the burnt bulb he’d tossed onto the couch.

“Ow,” his Dad said, “Ow, ow, ow ow. Ow ow ow ow ow. Ow. Ow, ow. Ow. Ouch.”

The glass had cracked in the cushion. His Dad held his hoof up and it had three little cuts in it, no glass that L’il Cheese could see.

His Mum dropped the groceries in the kitchen and hurried in. “Gosh, that looks like it stings.”

“Yuh huh.” His Dad nodded. “Kiss it better?”

His Mum gave it a kiss, and then went to the kitchen and came right back. “Hold still. You want bunnies or rainbows?”

“Bunny sticker, please.” His Dad pouted, holding out his sore hoof. His Mum kissed it one last time before carefully putting the bunny bandaid on it. Then she gave him a big hug. “Thank you, Mum. I feel a lot better.”

“L’il Cheese, could you go grab some paper towels and pick up the glass before anyone sits on it?”

L’il Cheese ran to the kitchen and ripped off some big chunks of paper towel. When he came back, his parents were looking at the chair that fell over. His Dad hadn’t just overbalanced — one of the legs had made a clean snap at the base.

He looked to the Big Cheese. “Can you fix it?”

His Dad shook his head. “Last time I messed with the wood glue, I had a hammer stuck to my leg for three days. Your Mum’s way better at that stuff than me.”

She shook her head. “I think it’s just old. We should probably just get some nicer chairs tomorrow, or I’m just going to get worried whenever somepony sits on them.”

L’il Cheese nodded. That made sense.

His Mum went to flick the light on, and it flicked on. His Dad beamed with pride. Then his Mum saw the board set up.

“Were the Cheeses going to play chess?”

“Sort of!” His Dad answered first, taking his side with the ‘black’ pieces, “Different rules though.”

“I’ll just put the groceries away myself, then. You two have fun.” His Mum paused to kiss his Dad on the cheek one last time before heading back to the kitchen.

“Thanks, Mum.” His Dad always smiled when he called her that, even when he was cut up. “Dinner’s keeping warm in the oven!” Then his Dad pointed to the pieces. “I call this ‘must take’. If you can take their piece, you have to. Then, they get to eat it. Winner is the first person to eat all their pieces.”

Cheese looked at his board. “Wait. First person to lose all their pieces? So it’s like... opposite chess?”

“You got it! The best part is, it’s the fastest way to eat ‘em all.” His Dad pointed to Cheese’s side of the board. “You still go first.”

There was actually still a fair amount of strategy involved, and Cheese had way more fun than he would have if it was regular chess. Every time he lost a pawn, his Dad would lob it up high and try to catch it in his mouth. Most of the time he even got it in.

L’il Cheese’s eyes kept going to the bunny bandaids on his Dad’s hoof, though, and comparing it to Big Mac’s bandage. And he couldn’t help but start to ask himself if his Dad wasn’t really... manly?

Was that okay? Was that normal? Did normal even matter?

He didn’t want to ask, and he wasn’t sure if it was because he was worried about hurting his Dad’s feelings, or because the answer would make him sad. Probably a little of both.

One thing was for sure; his Dad could still whoop him at opposite-chess, and it had been really fun, and they split the remaining pieces between them as his prize. No matter what, he still loved his Dad more than anything.

But it was the first time L’il Cheese ever had to wonder who his role model should be.

They didn’t have dessert because the Cheeses were both too full up on chocolate for it. So his Mum just made a bowl of ice cream with sprinkles for herself. She was reading on the couch when there was a knock at the door.

So it was his Dad that called out; “I’ll get it!”

L’il Cheese was close behind him when he answered it. It was Big Mac, hat crushed against his chest. “Hey. Ah. Cheese. Can I come in a bit?”

“Sure! Sure, Big Mac. Can I get you anything? A drink?”

Big Mac flinched for just a second, then straightened himself up again. “Just some water would be great, thanks.”

Cheese turned to grab it, but stopped when he saw L’il Cheese hanging on the stairs watching. “Can you get Sugar’s Dad here a glass of water? Nothing for me.”

L’il Cheese ran to get it as fast as he could, so he didn’t miss anything, then walked back slow so he could overhear as much as he could while he still had a good reason to be there to hear it.

Whatever it was he missed while running the tap, when he came back it’d made his Dad wrap Big Mac in a big squeezing hug, and pump his hoof in a hoofshake. Big Mac didn’t look as excited.

“Congratulations! That’s so exciting. I know Pinkie’s going to want to plan the bachelorette parties. But you must be so excited!”

“Ain’t excited at all.” Big Mac grumbled. “Proud, eeyup. Excited? Nope.” Big Mac saw L’il Cheese with his water at this point. Cheese gave it to him, and he downed it in a single gulp and gave the glass back. “Really hoping you could help.”

“What do you need my Dad’s help for?” Cheese asked, trying to keep his awe out of his voice.

His Dad beamed, even as Big Mac stared at his balled-up cap. “Sugar’s Dad just got asked to be the best man at your Aunt Applejack’s wedding!”

“Did Aunt Applejack ask, or Aunt Rainbow Dash?”

Cheese Sandwich was about to answer that, but paused and looked at Big Mac. “Actually, that is a good question.”

“I think it came up in a fight, actually. One of them said something like, ‘You can’t keep doing stuff like this when we’re married’, and the other said ‘Well, marry me then!’.” Big Mac paused. “Saying it like that, I think it was Rainbow that proposed.”

“Huh.” Cheese Sandwich blew a curl of hair out of his eyes. “Sounds about right, actually.”

“Eeyup.”

“Well, come in, come in.” Cheese Sandwich pushed Big Mac down the hallway, prodding him down to the family room with the big space and the standing piano in the corner. “Tell me everything.”

L’il Cheese shadowed them, trying not to draw attention to himself again. When they went into the family room, he just stayed outside by the doorway, listening carefully.

“When I got married to Sugar Belle, she took care of everything. What she didn’t cover, Braeburn did.” Big Mac rubbed the back of his neck. “I just had to show up. Doing this for Applejack though... I gotta do the plannin’ this time. I gotta make a speech.” He shook his head and gulped. “I don’t do speeches, Sandwich. I just don’t think I got it in me.”

That’s when it clicked, for L’il Cheese. It took him a while because he’d never seen it before, but. Sugar’s Dad was scared.

“Come on, Big Mac.” Sandwich patted Big Mac on the back hard enough to shake him. “I’ve heard you sing, you’ve got a wonderful voice.”

“Singing ain’t speeching,” Big Mac reminded him. “Not the same thing.”

His Dad looked him up and down with a tailor’s eye. “I can see that. And you’re in charge of Applejack’s bachelorette party?”

Big Mac nodded, pale as a sheet.

His Dad wrapped a leg around Big Mac’s shoulders. “You want me to do all the work on that one, and let you take all the credit?”

Big Mac sighed in extreme relief. “Eeyup.”

“The speech is going to be easy. Just start on one good joke, get a laugh, and then speak from the heart for the rest of it,” Big Cheese gave Big Mac a playful punch in the shoulder, “and I’ll help you with the jokes, too.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t sweat it, big guy. Hey! While I’m thinking of it, have you got a suit that fits, still? You remember how to dance? ”

Big Mac’s eyes widened, and he started sweating again. “Aaaah?”

But Cheese Sandwich waved it off. “Don’t worry about it, we’ll talk to Snips and Snails about getting you a tux tomorrow. They’re good kids. And you already know how to dance, you’re just a bit rusty. So that’ll be super easy.” Cheese Sandwich grabbed a notepad from the piano and began scribbling notes on it. “There’s a lot of little stuff we need to sort out. But the speech is the big one, right?”

Big Mac nodded, silently. He still froze up whenever the topic came back around to it.

“You love your sister, right? And you’re proud of her?” Big Mac nodded again. “Well, just say that, but be specific about it. It’s just that easy!” Cheese Sandwich clapped him again. “Can’t go wrong saying nice things.”

“I’m just not that good talking about feelings like that.”

“But you have feelings, don’t you?” his Dad asked, and he was teasing, but it was the same teasing tone of voice he used when Cheese was thinking about cutting school on test days. It always made you feel like he believed in you more than you believe in yourself, and he was just pointing out how silly that was.

“Yeah,” Big Mac grumbled, “I got feelings.”

“Let’s just work on that then.” His Dad gestured to one of the sofa seats in the family room, and he dragged the piano stool in front of it so he was close to Big Mac. Big Mac had to be more than twice his Dad’s size, but right now with his Dad leaning forward and Big Mac sagging in his seat like he was, his Dad seemed like he was the size of the whole world right now. “So you’re scared of talking to crowds. You love your family. What else is going on in that big, red, head of yours?”

Big Mac chuckled, but it wasn’t a happy one. “You don’t want to hear it.”

“Who cares if I want to hear it? Right now, you need to say it, and that’s what’s important. But, just so you know,” and his Dad dropped down to a stage whisper, still loud enough that Cheese could hear it from where he was hiding in the doorway, “I do want to hear it.”

Big Mac gulped. “I shouldn’t.”

“Just between us. Mac and Cheese — name a better pair.” His Dad gave a huge wink, “Bet you can’t.”

Big Mac snorted, but he just kept staring at his hooves. “Sometimes I’m scared I don’t know what I’m doing. Being a Dad, I mean.”

L’il Cheese pulled back behind the doorway a bit more, just as his Dad leaned forward to touch Big Mac’s shoulder again. He felt like he really shouldn’t be hearing this bit, but that just made him want to stay even more.

“I’ve seen how you are with Sugar, and the boy loves you to bits,” Sandwich reassured him. “You’re doing something right.”

“I don’t know.” Big Mac paused. It was taking him a while to find the words – he’d probably never looked for them before. “I never really got to be a kid, so I don’t know how you’re supposed to be with them. So I just try to treat him like an adult, and most of the time that works out alright but...” He wiped his eyes. “Sometimes that ain’t the right thing to do. I don’t know how to do anything else.”

“You’ve raised a very responsible young man, and he loves you,” Sandwich said gently. “What’s made you worry?”

Big Mac held up his bandaged hoof. “Cut myself bad earlier, asked him to do the stitches.” He buoyed up at that memory, sat up straighter. “He did a heck of a good job, too.”

“But?” Sandwich rubbed his shoulder, and Big Mac sank right back down again.

“Let him have a sip of my whiskey, to steady his hooves.” Mac pulled his hat over his head and pulled it low over his eyes. “Just a little, the boy was shaking. Forget he’s still a kid sometimes.”

Cheese chuckled. “Let me guess? He drank too much, probably trying to impress his tough old Dad, and got a bit sick? And his Mum chewed you out over it?”

Big Mac took a shuddering breath in. His jaw shivered when he did. “Eeyup.”

“You tell him to remember that when he’s a teenager?”

Big Mac coughed up a laugh, but immediately looked guilty about it. “Eeyup.”

Cheese Sandwich nodded. “It’s easy to forget he’s still a kid when he’s growing up so fast, isn’t it?”

“Your boy’s got it figured out.” Big Mac pointed out to him. “Knows how good he’s got it.”

“Well. Yeah.” Cheese Sandwich rolled his eyes. “But have you met his parents? Basically born for this. It’s just not fair to everyone else!”

“You got that right.” Big Mac grumbled, but there was a quiet laugh about it. And L’il Cheese realized, Sugar’s Dad was jealous of his Dad.

Whoa.

“Just remember,” his Dad said, “tomorrow morning, your son’s going to wake up just a bit sick. And the first thing he’s going to worry about is that he disappointed you.” Cheese Sandwich snickered. “I’ve smelled what you brew, and believe me, it’s no appletini. There’s no way he would take a second mouthful of that stuff unless it was to impress you.”

Big Mac was sitting up again, a bit straighter. “You would know about appletinis, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah.” His Dad didn’t back down from the goad. “Because I like to be able to taste what I’m drinking. But if I ever need to clean any windows, believe me, you’ll be the first to know.”

L’il Cheese bit down on his hoof so he didn’t laugh and give himself away. Any doubts he had about not being able to handle the flask disappeared when he realized his Dad didn’t get it either. Which was great, because he’d been having a lot of them.

“Thanks.” Big Mac said. “For hearing me out.”

“Any time,” his Dad said, and really meant it. “It always helps to talk to a friend.”

Big Mac thought about it, then shook his head. “Still don’t know much about the talking. Not that good at it.”

“Can’t get good at anything unless you practice.” His Dad stood up, putting the piano stool back behind the piano. Big Mac started getting up too. “And it’s never too late to learn.”

“... Thanks.”

“Hey, now, if you’re really wanting to thank me, we’ve got some chairs that need looking at. And you know how I am with the handy stuff. Would really appreciate it if you could help out with that.” His Dad paused, and quieter, so they could both pretend it wasn’t the real point of him asking, “And you know, if you ever want to talk. Sound good?”

“Deal.” Big Mac said simply, offering a hoof for a hoofshake.

Cheese Sandwich gave him a big, reassuring hug instead. Big Mac looked caught in it but, after a few seconds of panic, returned it.

“Let’s get you going, though. I’m sure you got plenty of ponies you want to share the good news with!”

“Right. Right!” Big Mac jumped up, cricked his neck. “I’m the best man... I’m the best man... I’m my sister’s best man...”

Cheese Sandwich walked him to the front door as he repeated it to himself, first as a reminder and increasingly in excitement as they got closer. By the time Sandwich was closing the door behind him, Macintosh had pumped himself up and was grinning ear to ear.

His Dad turned around and raised an eyebrow at L’il Cheese, standing in the corridor. “You know, it’s rude to eavesdrop.”

L’il Cheese ran up to him, because he needed the running start to jump high enough to hug him around the neck.

“Oof. You’re getting a bit big for that, kiddo.”

L’il Cheese didn’t stop, though, because his Dad was perfect.

And that meant there was nothing wrong with wanting bunny bandaids, either.

The Crush

Cheese liked the swings for a little bit. You swing a bit, then you get bored so you swing a bit higher, and then you think — no, this is high enough. Then you get bored of that, so you swing a bit higher, and if you paced yourself, you could get a good hour out of the swings before you ran out of ‘higher’ to get to, and it was time to jump.

Garam Masala took the swing next to him, but he didn’t swing on it. He just kind of twisted on it, round and round.

Garam was cool. Or, he wasn’t cool, but Cheese liked him. His Dad was friends with Cheese’s Dad, which was wild because Cheese didn’t think Donut Joe — Garam’s Dad — had many friends, even though he was really nice. He was more of a ‘read the newspaper and drink coffee’ Dad.

Garam was also like, a browny-red kid with russet hair, which meant ‘dark red’ while being way more fun, and he was a few years older than Cheese, and a lot bigger, but that was cool.

Garam kept twisting on his swing.

“Hey! Garam!” Cheese waited until he was at the bottom of his swing, so he didn’t have to yell too loud.

Garam smiled, but only for a second, and then it was gone. “Hey, Cheese.”

“You! Seem! Sad!”

“I’m not sad.” Garam corrected Cheese. “I don’t know what I am, but I don’t think I’m sad.”

“Mopey?”

“No,” Garam asked, even as Cheese realized that was probably it. It just sounded lame to be ‘mopey’. “Morose, maybe. Pensive.”

Because Cheese was such a good friend, he didn’t point out those were just longer ways to say ‘mopey’. “So, why are you morose then?”

Garam frowned and stopped twisting and spinning. “Can you stop swinging, if you’re going to talk about it?”

“No!” Cheese laughed, “you should start though. Swing together!”

“You mean, like, synchronize?”

“Whatever!” Cheese laughed again, enjoying how the sound of his laugh changed if he was swinging towards or away from Garam.

Garam started swinging. It only took him a few seconds to match Cheese’s speed, partly because Cheese had been pacing himself, and partly because Garam was a lot bigger.

“So,” Cheese said, “what’s up?”

Garam thought about his question for ages before he asked it. “How do I talk to girls?”

“Like you talk to anyone, I guess.” Cheese answered, but then remembered he was talking to Garam. “Talk normal?” Garam. “Aah. Dunno.”

“Helpful.” Garam was extremely sarcastic.

“Why’d you want to talk to girls anyway? I didn’t think you liked talking to anyone.”

“I like talking to you!” Garam protested.

“Yeah, but I’m not anyone.” Cheese stuck his tongue out. “I’m great.”

Garam laughed at that, because he could not handle the truth. “Yeah, you are,” he said. “You’re not a girl though. Even if you dress like one.”

“You mean fantastic?” Cheese looked dynamite in his poofy silk, and any pony who said otherwise didn’t have eyes, or a brain.

Garam nodded. “I mean, yeah, it’s very you. Which is kind of what I mean. You make stuff like that look easy.”

“Sure is!” Cheese agreed.

Garam swung as quietly as the rusty chains would let him. “Not for me.”

“I mean, you’re good at other stuff though. Like, electronics, and chemistry, and stuff.”

“Yeah, but girls don’t like that stuff.”

“How’d you know, if you can’t talk to them?”

Garam swung. “Well, I used to be able to talk to them, and when I did, they didn’t like that kind of stuff.”

“So you can’t talk to girls anymore?”

“Not since I started liking them, I guess.”

“Oh.” Cheese swung a bit too. “Talking to people you like is way harder, which doesn’t even make sense.”

“It makes a lot of sense.” Garam countered. “If I don’t like someone, then it doesn’t matter if I say the wrong thing. And if I just like someone like a friend, then I don’t care. But if I like someone…”

“Doesn’t that mean it’d be easier if you started liking someone you were already friends with?” Cheese asked hopefully, but Garam shook his head.

“Way harder! I think. Maybe.” Garam paused. “Wasn’t it like that with your mum and dad though?”

“It’s weird to think they weren’t ever together, is all.” Cheese thought about it. “What about yours?”

“Same, I think. Dunno. I don’t know how Dad survived without her.” He laughed. “It’s like thinking about how Princess Twilight used to be his favourite customer in Canterlot, because she’d just order bad coffee and read a lot. It’s weird to think of the Princess being a loner.”

“Woah. Yeah.” Cheese’s eyes went wide. It was weird, but his Mum told him Aunty Twilight really was like that. “What do you think we’re going to be like?”

“I dunno. I don’t think we’ll change that much,” Garam answered. “Will we?”

“I like how everything is now. I don’t want stuff to change that much,” Cheese agreed.

Garam’s swing creaked as he sped up. Cheese swung his legs a bit to keep up. “Stuff was easier when I didn’t care about girls, I guess.” Garam paused, thought about it. “Or, when I cared the normal amount.”

“Just don’t think about it then.” Cheese shrugged.

Garam slowed down, and Cheese slowed down with him. It was weirdly harder than speeding up. “I like thinking about it, though,” he admitted. “I just wished I was the kind of guy that girls like, you know?”

“What’s that?” Cheese was curious what Garam thought that even was.

“Like. Tough. Or sporty, or stuff. Or pretty. Or assertive. Or popular, I guess.”

“Garam, you’re describing the bullies in movies.”

“Yeah!” Garam blurted out, “and they always have girlfriends!”

Cheese thought about it. “Yeah, I always thought that was kind of weird.”

“Why don’t girls like nice guys?” Garam pouted, and Cheese laughed.

“They do though! Guys that are nice are the best.”

Garam swung morosely, but he sped up, which was more fun. They’d been going a little too slow. “They never do in movies or stuff.”

“You really believe that?”

“Well, why would they write movies like that if it wasn’t kind of true?” Garam didn’t sound like he believed what he was saying, he just sounded like he wanted Cheese to explain why it was wrong.

“Because it makes a better story when they lose their girlfriends for being jerks. That always happens too.”

Garam laughed. “Not always! Sometimes their girlfriends are jerks too!”

“Yeah, see.” Cheese agreed. “Were you really going to try being a jerk just to see if it made girls like you more?”

Garam didn’t answer, which was his answer.

“You make it really easy to forget you’re the smartest kid I know.” Cheese accused him.

“I’m not good at this stuff!” Garam blurted out. “This stuff is way harder than maths!”

Cheese just laughed, because the idea that talking to people was harder than maths was the most obviously wrong thing Garam had ever said, except for him specifically.

Garam was weird. He was never mean on purpose, and he obviously thought really hard before saying stuff, but it just made him be too honest more specifically. He had a habit of saying the wrong things with the best words to say it with.

“Just try to be the kind of guy you really like, and find someone who likes that too,” Cheese suggested. “If you be a jerk to get girls, you’re going to find someone who likes jerks.”

“I thought it was about being confident, and all the confident guys seem like jerks.”

Cheese shrugged. “I dunno. Would you say I’m confident?”

Garam laughed, then he thought about it some more. “Actually you’re probably the most confident pony I know.”

“My Mum says I have a very healthy self esteem.” Cheese beamed.

“I just don’t really think of you as confident ‘til you asked. It seems different, somehow. I normally think of like… Sugar’s Dad, I guess.”

“Sugar’s Dad’s super cool! But I think he’s pretty shy.”

“What? Really? But he seems so… you know.” For once, Garam really didn’t have the right words. But Cheese knew what he meant, anyway.

“Yeah! I was surprised too!”

“I guess your Dad is really confident, too, and he’s like, the only guy my Dad hangs out with. And your Dad is like, too nice.”

“No such thing!”

“You would think that.” Garam smiled. “How’d you know so much about what girls like anyway?”

Cheese shrugged. “I just like boys too! So I don’t have to think too hard.”

Garam blinked. “What, you mean like, like you like girls?”

“Yeah, I like both.”

Garam paused, and spent a lot of time working out how to say the wrong thing with the right words. “Do you like me?”

Cheese snorted. “You’re not my type.”

Garam seemed disappointed and relieved at the same time, and couldn’t decide which he was more. “What is your type, then?”

Cheese hesitated. This was dangerous territory. Now he was admitting things! He shouldn’t say! But if he didn’t say, then he didn’t get to talk about— “Bubblin’ Squeak.”

Garam skidded to a stop at the bottom of the swingset. “Really? Him?”

“Yeah! His Dad’s from Trottingham, and his Mum’s Coltic, so he’s got that accent, and he’s always wearing the fluffiest sweaters, and he looks like he’d be so soft to hug, and he’s a really good actor, but always takes supporting roles because he says they’re more expressive, and he loves his puppy so much and she’s so cute...” Cheese stopped.

Garam was staring at him.

“Shut up!” Cheese jumped off the swings and ran to go hide in the tunnel underneath the jungle gym, but Garam had longer legs and followed him easily.

“I didn’t say anything!”

Cheese slipped into the tunnel and pulled his knees in front of his face. “You weren’t saying it really loud!”

Garam was too curious to let it drop though. “That’s what makes boys cute, huh? Like, accents and stuff.”

“Only real accents.” Cheese warned him.

“Aw.” Garam paused. “Squeak though? He’s like, all soft. That’s weird.”

“You’re weird.”

“You would know.” Garam smirked, and Cheese buried his face deeper in his knees again.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to be a jerk.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Cheese, promise.” Garam snickered. “I just meant I didn’t think of it like that. Like, in movies and stuff, they’re always like, cool, and tough guys, you know? Like, even the good guys.”

“You mean, guys like Sugar’s Dad?”

“Yeah, like that.”

“Well, if you could hang out with my Dad, or Sugar’s Dad, who’d you hang out with more?”

“Your Dad, I guess.” Garam worked it out. “Is it really that simple?”

“So simple, you couldn’t work it out on your own!” Cheese shot back.

Garam slid in next to Cheese and nudged him. “I didn’t mean to laugh at you.”

“I know!” Cheese groaned, “I just feel weird.”

“You’re always weird.” Garam was sitting with his shoulder against Cheese. “Never seen you embarrassed before, though.”

“What? Why would I be embarrassed? Just ‘cause—” and then Cheese immediately stopped talking, because even just saying ‘I like Squeak’ was Too Much right now. Okay, maybe Garam had a point. “Okay! Maybe I am!”

“That makes me feel a lot better, honestly.” Garam smiled. “I guess everyone gets weird about liking someone.”

“Well, who do you like?” Cheese asked.

Garam stopped smiling, went pale. “I dunno, actually.”

Wow, that was such a bad lie. Cheese pulled his head out of his knees. “Reeeally?”

“Promise not to laugh?” Garam asked, but then shook his head. “Nevermind. If you’re going to laugh, you going to. Gislaine.”

“Gislaine?!” Cheese spluttered. “Really?”

“At least you didn’t laugh.”

“But she’s so… mean?” Gislaine was a gryphon that was a few years older than Cheese, but not much older than Garam. She wore mesh gloves and way too much eyeliner and she looked like she was entirely made of sharp angles and edges. “She’s not soft! She’s sharp!”

Everything she did was sharp. Her guitar had steel strings, the wire spiral in the notebook she wrote in had glistening points, and she used clear nail polish just to make her talons gleam. She was the opposite of Squeak.

“Sharp tongue. Sharp mind.” Garam smiled, visible even the dark of the tunnel. “She’s not always mean. She’s not as mean as her parents, anyway. She’s really funny, though, and smart.”

“If you like angry sarcasm.”

“I do!” Now it was Garam’s turn to fold his forelegs across his chest and frown.

Cheese was quiet for a bit. “Wow. Maybe this stuff is way more complicated than I thought.”

“I asked my Dad if this stuff gets less complicated when you get older, and he just laughed for like, a whole minute. And then he said ‘no’.”

“Harder than maths, huh?”

“That was dumb. I shouldn’t have said that.” Another interesting thing about Garam is that he didn’t stop thinking about something after he said it. Sometimes for ages. It could be hours later, and Garam would apologize for saying something he realized could have been offensive from, like, three hours ago.

Cheese didn’t know if he liked it about Garam or not, but it made it easier to ask him what he meant, because he always meant something, and he always remembered. “Why’d you say maths, though?”

“I was just thinking, with maths, there’s always a right answer, and you know if you got the right answer or not.”

“Maybe for you.” Cheese grimaced. He hated maths. Garam laughed at that, too.

“Yeah, maybe.” Garam slid out of the tunnel, nudging Cheese as he did. “Hey, want to go get donuts?”

“Yeah!”

“Come on, then.”

Garam could be really cool, even if he wasn’t really cool.