Soft Stories for Hard Times - Caramac

by Apple Bottoms

Rating: everyone
Tags: Caramel, Big Macintosh, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Romance
Length: 2566

Written for those who need a break from the world: A soft, fluffy vignette about Caramel and Big Mac, and the love in their relationship. Caramel has a bad dream, and Big Mac comforts him through it.

Written in the time of quarantine, I found myself wanting to write something obsessively, unrelentingly fluffy, gentle and sweet. No suffering, no real harm or unkindness; the real world has enough of that. Our world right now is incredibly stressful, so I wanted to write something that was as gentle, and as tender, as I needed to hear right now. Maybe you need to hear it, too. My go-to ship has always been Caramac (Caramel + Big Mac), so I went back to my roots for this one.

Caramel awakes suddenly from a terrible nightmare, but the nightmare only confirms his waking fears. Is he enough for Big Mac? He's clumsy, and slow, and he makes so many mistakes; what if Big Mac gets tired of him one day? Luckily, Big Mac is right there in bed with him to remind him just how much he is loved.

Published 2020-04-03 22:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2020-04-03 22:50:01 UTC

Caramac

“Nnn!”

Caramel jolted sharply upright in bed, a scream dying behind tightly clenched teeth.

Dreams weren’t real - dreams were definitely not real, Caramel reminded himself. Just to drive the point home, Caramel took silent stock of his bedroom as his heart raced, trying to calm himself with the mundane details of everyday life. There was his dresser, with his seed pouch hung loosely over the corner; it had developed a hole, so it needed to be repaired. It had hung there for several weeks now, waiting to be patched. Caramel took a few panicked breaths through his nose, and swallowed. There was his sun hat, made of the same braided straw as it ever was. There was his sock drawer, and his chest of winter things, and his little shelf of assorted oddments. A photo of his family, the participation medal from the Running of the Leaves he won last year, the book about succulents he was halfway through. Caramel lifted the back of one foreleg to brush away the sweat that had beaded on his forehead, and jolted as his bedmate rolled over with a little grunt.

Big Macintosh, of course, was one of the mundane details of the room; he’d almost forgotten he was there, that’s all. Caramel held still for a moment, afraid he’d woken him up, then slowly slid his hind legs over the edge of the mattress, so he could bury his face in his front hooves.

“Bad dream?”

“Jeujgh - don’t do that, Mac!” Caramel jumped sharply, startling a few tears out; he had been so close to calming down! “I’m fine.” Caramel insisted quietly, and scrubbed at his cheeks. “Go back to sleep.”

Big Macintosh groggily pushed himself upright, and loosed a wide, jaw-cracking yawn before he leaned close enough to Caramel to see his face. He was a big stallion; it wasn’t like he had to move very far to be pressed up against Caramel’s rounded back, resting his chin on his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“S’not a big deal.” Caramel tried to insist, thickly, hoping that Big Mac was too tired to notice how rattled he was. “You need your sleep.”

“So d’you.” Big Macintosh went quiet for a few moments, considering the jagged, irregular patterns of Caramel’s jumpy breaths. Big Mac was a stallion of few words; but Caramel had gotten to hear far more than most ponies did in the past months they’d been living together. “I can tell when you have bad dreams, because you kick like you’re running.”

Caramel was startled into silence for a moment, then released a soft, embarrassed chuckle. “I do?”

“Mm-hmm.” Big Mac hummed, and slowly reached his massive forelegs around his much slimmer partner’s middle, pulling him gently back into him. “What’s wrong?”

Caramel was quiet for a moment more, debating, before he twisted and melted into Big Mac’s broad chest. His words were soft where they were muffled into his neck, but this far after midnight, they were the only two making noise on the farm, so it was easy to hear him. “I don’t remember all of it. I was just … running, from something bad, something with teeth. And - and you were gone, but it was all - jumbled. It didn’t make sense, but …” Caramel fell quiet for a moment, trying to piece the confusing parts of the dream together, trying to make his heart stop from pounding again. “I knew that, somehow, I was going to lose you. If I wasn’t - fast enough, or something. And some part of me knew it was already too late, and you were gone. Forever.”

Big Macintosh listened quietly as Caramel tried to explain, and carefully lifted a massive hoof to smooth over Caramel’s back. “Sounds like a scary dream.”

Caramel hummed out a soft agreement, and snuffled wetly against Big Mac’s neck, his forelegs tightening dangerously around his partner’s broad middle.

“But it was only a dream.” Big Mac hurried to add, his deep, rumbly voice soft in the velvety darkness, only interrupted by the beam of moonlight as it came through their window. “There is nothing bad with teeth here. I am not going away. The dream is not real. So it is okay now, right?”

But Caramel didn’t stop hiding in his neck, and the snuffling continued, perhaps even wetter than before. Big Mac realized, with sudden distress, that Caramel was trembling.

“... Caramel?” Big Mac asked softly, lifting his head a little so he could look down at his partner, but Caramel’s expression had crumpled, tears slipping down his cheeks. Big Mac frowned, and cradled his face in one massive hoof, brushing away the tears as they slid down into his goldenrod fur. “What is it?”

“What is it that - you like about me?” Caramel asked, his voice trembling.

“What?” Big Mac frowned even harder, tilting his head to the right, as if that might make Caramel’s soft question make any more sense.

“I’m not - good at anything. I’m - clumsy, and I’m not - I’m not as strong as you! I get tired, and I forget to be careful, and - and I make so many mistakes.” Caramel snuffled sharply, and hid his face in his hooves as the tears began to fall more readily. “I keep thinking, one day you’re - you’re just going to get so sick of me. And I looked out in the garden today, and … and all of the plants are blooming, and it’s so beautiful. Your carrots are all in neat rows, and the radishes are thriving in the boxes, and the - and the corn, and the pumpkins, and the - the squash -”

“Yes, they are very nice.” Big Mac soothed Caramel softly, sensing that he was starting to go off the rails listing vegetables.

“No! Your plants are very nice!” Caramel insisted sharply as his voice cracked. “Everything’s in - in a neat row, and in the right box, and - and growing like a picture in a book! And mine, is -” Caramel choked off a sob, and rubbed his foreleg sharply against one eye, trying to stave off the tears. “Mine’s everywhere. I found a - a grape vine growing in my row of tomatoes. And the tomatoes aren’t even in a row, all of the stakes went sideways, and one’s growing up an apple tree, and the grass got so over watered it died, and - and I found a turnip growing next to the barn door!” Caramel’s sob was particularly anguished as he emphasized, “Inside the barn, Big Mac!”

Big Macintosh could only stare at Caramel as he fell to pieces, and took a moment to consider his next words very carefully. “But I like it like that.”

Caramel was so startled it stopped the tears, if only for a moment. “What?”

“I like our farm like that.” Big Macintosh repeated quietly, considering Caramel in the darkness. “I like that there are surprises.”

“B- But it’s not surprises, it’s - it’s mistakes.” Caramel countered, his voice throaty with tears.

“So?” Big Mac replied, and stared him down for a moment, letting the silence spread between them. “I like it. I like the rows - but that is like every Apple farm. Row of this, row of that, row of that. Each one at least one length apart. Crops are rotated in a pattern. Every farm looks the same.” Big Mac paused for a moment. “Ours doesn’t. We have wildflowers growing under the steps. Wild mustard in the back garden, to make our salads taste peppery. The grass seed you drop, every summer I see it growing hip-length on the back path to the cornfield. I snack on it when I bring the corn in.”

Caramel considered Big Mac as he spoke, his glassy eyes reflective in the moonlight. Occasionally, he’d lift his hoof to brush away the tears, until finally there weren’t any tears left to wipe. “I didn’t … think of it like that.” Caramel said softly, unable to come up with a retort. It was hard to hate himself, when Big Mac looked at him with such affection in his eyes.

“At first I thought, ‘this is not the Apple way.’ I didn’t think I liked it. But I realized…” Big Mac considered for a moment, and lifted a hoof to smooth back Caramel’s chestnut forelock, “I like it better than the Apple way, because it is our way. It is the Caramel and Big Mac way.”

Caramel’s sad expression cracked into a smile, and he ran his foreleg under his nose. “Y-Yeah? You do? Not - just to make me feel better?”

“Not just to make you feel better.” Big Mac repeated back to him softly, although his expression faltered a little. “How long have you felt like this? Like you are afraid I will go? I will not go because you are messy, Caramel. I have made you feel this … unwanted?”

“No! Not - it’s not your fault, Mac! Don’t - you don’t have to feel bad!” Caramel hurried to comfort him, surprised to realize that tears were pooling in his partner’s green eyes.

“I feel bad when you feel bad.” Big Mac answered softly, with a deep sniff. “I cannot sit and watch you cry, and feel good.”

“It’s not your fault, Mac, please don’t cry.” Caramel whispered, tears springing to his own eyes as Macintosh lowered his head, avoiding his gaze. “Please, Macintosh. Sometimes I - I just get so scared. You’re so big, and strong, and - perfect. I feel so small next to you.”

“‘M not perfect.” Big Mac snuffled, rubbing one dish-sized hoof under his nose, the first few tears disappearing into his red fur. “I think you are perfect. Perfect and small, and gentle, and kind. Make me feel like - I am so precious, when I am with you. Make me feel wanted, not just because I am strong.”

“Because you’re not just strong, to me.” Caramel crooned, and it was his turn to cradle Big Mac’s face in his hooves, gently drawing him close so he could press their foreheads together as his eyes closed. “You’re my whole world, Mac. Sometimes - sometimes I get so scared, because I know anyone in Ponyville would give their left leg to be yours. And I’m afraid you’ll wake up and realize one day … it’s just me. It’s just Caramel.”

“There is no ‘just’ Caramel.” Big Mac replied softly, his voice still a little thick with tears, although the light, gentle stroking of Caramel’s much-smaller hooves against his cheeks was helping with that. “You are the one I choose, every day. You are the most special pony. And you are mine.” Big Mac reached out to loop his forelegs around Caramel, and pulled him into a tight hug, squeezing for emphasis. “I will never let you go.”

“I won’t ever let you go, either.” Caramel whispered, not only because most of the breath was squeezed out of him. “I love you, Macintosh.”

“And I love you, Caramel.” Big Mac crooned, and opened his eyes, considering Caramel for a moment before he opened his as well. “You are not so afraid now? of the dream?”

“Hard to be afraid when you’re here.” Caramel replied softly, afraid to break the strange, magical sort of quiet between them.

“Good.” Big Mac whuffed out a soft breath, and lifted his nose to nuzzle at Caramel’s. Caramel giggled softly, and returned the nuzzle, laughing quietly as Big Mac directed the nuzzle down his neck, giving his shoulder a light nibble. Earth ponies, more so than the other kinds of ponies, delighted in this kind of mouth-heavy affection; they did not have wings or horns to offer other methods of touch, so mouths became multifunctional, both in the barn, the field, or the bedroom. Where he could reach him, Caramel tenderly returned the affectionate nibbles, tugging at the tips of Big Mac’s ears.

“Mac!” Caramel laughed softly as Big Mac continued to nose at him, playfully pushing him this way and that in their bed. It was a longtime game between the two; how easily Big Mac could move him, even with just his nose. Caramel loosed a sharp, surprised sound as Big Mac suddenly covered him with his body, and pressed him down into the mattress, his warmth abruptly omnipresent in all of Caramel’s senses.

“Too much?” Big Mac asked, peering down at Caramel from where he was snugly pressed belly-up into the soft bedding, only a few steps short of being smothered. “I thought you would feel safer with me on top.”

“... I do.” Caramel admitted softly, after a beat of trying to pretend he didn’t love being buried beneath his partner. His cheeks were pink, and Big Mac couldn’t keep his soft chuckle buried as he bent his thick neck down to nuzzle at him again, checking over his face and neck to make sure that his mane wasn’t tucked in anywhere painful, or that his ears were squished.

“I know what you like, because you are mine.” Big Mac crooned, and once he was certain that Caramel was comfortably situated, he relaxed more of his full weight into him, curling his neck so that Caramel could snuggle his face into it while he slept.

“And you are mine.” Caramel whispered in reply, a little shiver going through him as he settled down, looping his forelegs around Big Mac’s massive shoulders, holding him close. “You like that too, right?”

“Like it the very most.” Big Mac reassured him, his yawn gently muffled where he snuggled against Caramel’s mane. “You are ready for sleep now, little one?”

“Mm-hmm.” Caramel yawned too, unable to hide the urge as he followed Big Mac, prompting a soft, sleepy chuckle from his partner. “Good night, Mac.”

“Good night, ‘Mel.” Big Mac whispered, his voice already mostly lost in sleep.

Caramel laid awake for a few moments more, drinking in the surroundings of their room. The crickets sang quietly outside, sheltered among the stray wildflowers. The photograph of him and Big Mac at last year’s Hearth’s Warming Eve, wearing their matching sweaters. The medal from when they won ‘best couple’s costume’ at Nightmare Night. The warm flutter of Big Mac’s sleepy breath where it ruffled his mane and tickled his ear; the increasing pressure with each moment as his larger partner fell deeper and deeper asleep on top of him. The familiar smell of the Apple stallion, warm and musky and shot-through with something deep and earthy, like the field after a fresh tilling.

He was so very lucky, Caramel realized, blinking against tears that gathered in his lashes, and let them slip and fall into his partner’s thick neck. There was so much love here; he only had to open his eyes to remember that it was there, waiting for him, whenever he became afraid. And if he couldn’t remember, then Big Mac would be there to remind him, just as steady and as full of love as the first time he’d ever laid eyes on him.

“I love you, Mac.” Caramel whispered to his partner as he lifted a hoof to smooth down his mane, his only answer a sleepy sigh from his partner. And with that, Caramel finally fell asleep, cushioned and protected beneath his mate.