Applejack Needs a Cock and Butterscotch Has One, but She Goes About Getting It in the Wrong Way

Apple Bloom pounded the final nail into place, leaning back on the ladder to admire her work. The extension to the family home, a second nursery, was finally complete. This one extended off the ground floor beneath Applejack and Butterscotch's window, the roof flat with a hatch in the top and a slight slope for the water to drain off of. Swan Lake was getting old enough that she couldn't share a room with the triplets anymore, and the foal on the way couldn't stay in a room with the trio growing up through their Terrible Twos and Threes.

"Alright, time to paint! Eris, send those buckets my way."

A flat board with paint cans, trays, dipsticks, and rollers floated up through the air into Apple Bloom's reach. She adjusted her smock to keep errant paint off her coat and flanks—especially her cutie mark, a red barn much like the one on Sweet Apple Acres—and popped open a can. She scowled at the color, and popped another. She had bought the wrong shades.

She sucked air through her teeth, "Horseapples. Now I gotta go back to—"

Eris swam through the air and popped an eye out to inspect the colors. She put it back in before dipping a talon and tasting the paint, "Too much apricot, not enough cherry." Producing a bonsai cherry tree from thin air, she plucked off some fruit and squeezed them into the cans, darkening the red just right. The bonsai disappeared in a scented cloud, heading for parts unknown.

Apple Bloom chuckled, "I knew we kept ya around for somethin'." She got to work preparing her paints.

"How about a 'Thank you, Eris'? 'You have been so helpful, Eris, that I cannot properly express my gratitude'? 'Eris, in all the lands/fell and fair/never have I met a maiden anywhere/so willing to remove the un- from my prepare'? ...d." Eris scowled, scribbling at parchment with a quill plucked from her feathered wing, "Ugh, no, no, no! The meter's off, the rhyming is atrocious..."

Apple Bloom went on painting, shaking her head and laughing, "Thank ya kindly, Eris."

Eris bunched up the paper and ate it in irritation, "Ih wah my pribileg."

"Don't talk with yer mouth fu—"

A loud crash from inside the home interrupted Apple Bloom and caused Eris to choke on her snack. Soon, three foals were running out the door for the hills. A light red earth colt with a dark kerchief around his neck and sassy whip of brown hair, a brown pegasus filly with pink waves tied with baby blue bows flapping ahead, and a pink earth filly tripping over her long, light red mane.

"CORTLAND! APPLE BUTTER! PEARL TART! GET YER FLANKS BACK HERE RIGHT NOW AND CLEAN UP THIS MESS!"

The foals chose not to heed their mother's words. They would pay dearly later when they didn't get their dessert.

Applejack, encumbered with young for the third year running, didn't show any loss of athletic ability. She took off after the delinquents and was on top of them within a minute. Nipping up Cortland by the nape of his neck, she glared at the other two foals until they slunk behind their mother back home, ears low and tails tucked. Cortland kicked, to no avail.

Apple Bloom and Eris snickered as the scene unfolded, stifling their amusement long enough for Applejack to corral her young back into the home, meting out duties along the way, "Cortland, you get the broom. Apple Butter, get the dustpan. And hold the bag open for them, Pearl Tart."

The pair burst out laughing, Apple Bloom nearly falling from her rickety perch. She clung to the roof of the addition, smearing paint on her apron as she held her gut. Eris twisted in the air, cackling mad. A voice came from above, "What's so funny? I thought I heard Applejack yelling..."

Butterscotch landed on the roof and folded strong wings. His neck and legs had picked up muscular definition from years of farmwork, although he never lost his lithe figure. His chest and barrel had deepened after so much running and flying after his children. His current passenger would ride him ragged at every opportunity, strengthening him into a competent flier.

Flapping on his back was Swan Lake. She was a year younger than the triplets, a pegasus with a two-tone orange mane and a light coat, dappled blue like a pond's surface in the summer sun. Swan Lake threw her hooves up and yelled, "Uppies! Uppies!"

Apple Bloom fought to talk over her snickering, "Rascals broke something expensive-soundin' an' thought they could get away from AJ. An' she's gonna be real mad at ya if ya give 'em dessert this time."

"Oh, dear. I'm sorry, Swan, but fly time's over." Butterscotch set the foal down on the roof and shook his head, "Maybe later, but right now Dada has to go help Mama, okay?"

Eris picked the foal up before she could work her teary-eyed magic on her father, tickling her chin and cooing, "How about flying with Auntie Eris? I can do way cooler tricks than 'Dada' can."

Swan Lake giggled, "Auntie uppies! Immelmare Turn, Ponachev’s Cobra!"

"You're the boss!"

"Eris, be careful!"

"Oh, don't give me that look, Butt-Butt. When have I ever—don't answer this—not been careful?"

He frowned and went to answer, but by then Eris spiraled off into the sky with an ecstatic bundle holding onto her back. Apple Bloom's snickering picked back up, "Y'all don't need ta worry about Swan. Goin' by how AJ looked, it's Cortland that's in danger right now."

Butterscotch bit his lip and flew around the home to the front door, "Oh, dear, oh deary dear..."

Inside, Applejack watched like a hawk over her foals sweeping up the glass of numerous broken picture frames lying below the mantle of the fireplace. Butterscotch sighed, "Hey, Jackie. Is everypony okay? The foals didn’t get hurt, right?"

"No, and we're dang lucky! Our lil' troublemakers thought tossing this,” She holds up a red rubber ball, “around inside was a good idea!” Applejack took a deep breath and exhaled, her features relaxing as concern washed away the anger, “Why were y’all playin' ball in the house?"

Cortland grunted around the small straw broom in his mouth, "We was playin' Cortlandball, not ball."

"An' what does that got to do with you nearly gettin' all cut up from Granny Smith fallin' on your head?"

Apple Butter let go of the dust pan to talk—as it was rude to talk with your mouth full, something she let Cortland know with a glare—and stated matter-of-factly, "Cortland ball says y'all can get an extra point by goin' through the house without Ma catchin' ya."

Applejack frowned and looked to the youngest of the triplets, "Pearl Tart? I'd better hear a better explanation than some silly rule from a made-up game."

"W-Well, it's actually two points if you can beat somepony else through the house, an' I was a point behind, so it'd put me in the lead!"

Butterscotch held a hoof to his mouth, suppressing laughter. Applejack sighed, "An' why did ya need to be in the lead?"

Cortland made a zipping motion with his mouth, but Apple Butter was already tattling, "The winner gets the loser's desserts tonight!"

"Big-mouth! Now none'a us are gonna get dessert!"

"None'a y'all were gettin' dessert the second y'all decided the living room was a playground!" The triplets groaned. Applejack took the bag of broken glass from Pearl Tart and cinched it, taking it to the kitchen to be thrown out, "Lucky Granny ain't here right now or she'd talk your ears off about playin' safe!"

"Whose ears am I talkin’ off, now?"

"Granny!" The triplets left the rest of their mess and ran over to hug the elderly mare shambling into the living room from the front door. They chanted in unison with bright eyes, looking at the Sugarcube Corner bag she had carried in on her walker, "Wha'd'ja bring us, wha'd'ja bring us, wha'd'ja bring us?!"

"Granny, those foals just made a mess and darn near hurt themselves. I'd better not see you slippin' 'em treats!"

"Oh, ponyfeathers, AJ, ya can't punish foals for bein' foals! Ain't that right, Butters?"

Butterscotch shifted from leg to leg, avoiding the pleading triple threat of his beautiful firstborns, "That's true..."

"'Scotch..." A dangerous voice closed in from the kitchen.

"B-But I do think they need to understand that they need to behave a little better, if only for their own safety."

"But Paaaa!"

"We already ain't gettin' dessert!"

"An' it was all Cortland's fault anyway!"

"Actually, Pearl Tart, you were the one that invoked the rule..."

Cortland snorted, "Tattle-tale!"

Pearl copied her eldest triplet with her own snort, "Yeah, tattle-tale!"

The foals started chasing each other 'round Granny Smith's legs. Applejack opened her mouth to tell them to settle down, but then the foal started kicking. Butterscotch assisted her to the couch and helped lay down, watching her stomach blink with the unborn unicorn’s warm light.

"Now, listen here, ya rambunctious foals, nopony fightin' or I'll eat m'treats for y'all m'self!" Like magic, Granny's words calmed the vortex of sibling energy and they waited patiently for their gifts. Each got a chocolate chip cookie big enough to keep them busy for a few minutes of much-needed rest. Granny beamed, taking a nearby chair to bask in the glow of her great-grandfoals.

Butterscotch sat next to Applejack, smiling, “Swan and I got those rainclouds you wanted for the northern plot, but we may need more because she kept bouncing on it…”

Applejack waved a hoof, “Ordered extra just for that occasion, ‘Scotch. Ya got nothin’ to worry about. An' we still saved bits on delivery! Speakin' of savin' bits, how’re the new chicks doin’?”

“Oh, I did think there was a cloud too many. That was very smart!” He rested a hoof on her side, “They’re all happy and healthy. I’ve already given them their names—I’m very proud of ‘Hennifer’. Elizabeak liked the name, too!” His chest swelled with pride, putting his characteristically short, thick tuft on display. His hoof ran up her flank and over her belly, “And speaking of names…”

"I still say his name should be Bright Light." Applejack massaged her swollen stomach, soothing the foal's kicking.

Butterscotch shook his head, "You got to name three kids, and I've gotten to name one! His name should be Morning Song." He massaged her stomach too, warm at being able to touch life so close to the source. Even though the triplets fought just as much in the womb—at times, it seemed, even worse than they did outside—he never overcame that initial awe. Applejack had her fill after the first batch and was thankful Butterscotch hadn't blessed her with a bountiful harvest again.

"Bright Light!" Her stomach blinked.

"Morning Song is a wonderful name for him." It blinked again.

"You know the name Bright means a whole lot to me, 'Scotch. An' it rhymes! It'll be easy to sing." It blinked twice.

Butterscotch looked at Applejack's stomach, "... Bright?"

It blinked twice again.

"See? Bright, indeed! He knows a good name when he hears it. Mama's so proud of you~." She hugs her belly, cooing at it.

"Bright Light." It blinks once. Butterscotch tapped a hoof to his chin, "... Morning Song?" One blink.

Applejack tries next, "Morning?" No blinks.

Applejack looks up at Butterscotch. Butterscotch smiles at her, and she returns it. They speak in unison, "Bright Song!"

Bright Song blinks many times in a row, clearly happy with the name. "First time I've ever heard of a foal namin' himself!"

"And we both helped name him," Butterscotch squeed, "It's perfect."

They enjoyed the peace—sans quiet, once the triplets finished their cookies—for a while longer before Eris came back with a completely poofed, vibrating Swan Lake, setting the beaming filly on the ground by Granny Smith. Swan had a cookie in her hooves before she could even ask where it was. Granny chuckled and smoothed out the pegasus’ wings and coat.

A knock sounded from the door, "Helloooo~, children!" The foals all scampered at the sing-song voice of their favorite babysitter, "Mrs. Cheerilee!"

The door opened and the grape mare was tackled by four fuzzy foals. Big Gala steadied her with a hoof from behind. Cheerilee stepped inside with the younglings hugging her cannons with a giggle, "You're all very excited for the park, aren't you?"

She got four nods in response. Applejack sighed with relief, "Thank goodness. Let 'em go tucker themselves out and give me an' Butterscotch a few hours rest, would ya?"

Cheerilee nods, "Of course. Big Gala, you said you prepared a picnic?"

"Eeyup." Big Gala timbered into the kitchen and carried out an oversized basket in her mouth.

Cheerilee smiled and knelt down to look at her hanger-ons, "It's difficult to walk with so many hugs, you know!" The foals leapt off and cantered out the door, the triplets chanting, "Let's go let's go let's go!"

Swan Lake tottered behind, fluttering bounds with her wings, "Park! Park!" Cheerilee trotted out soon after.

Big Gala stopped by Granny Smith and eyed the old mare with a grin. She got to her walker and followed behind her grandfilly, "Hold on, ya lil' varmits! I can't keep up with y'all like I used to!"

Applejack, Butterscotch, and Eris were left alone inside, listening to the humming of Apple Bloom as she worked.

Eris waved a talon. The pictures put themselves back into their frames and a parade of glass danced through the air from the trash, making itself whole again and inserting seamlessly into the frames, looking like new. She curled around her herd and pulled them close, "You know what I'm thinking, Applejack?"

"I'm thinkin' that everypony's gone, Eris."

Butterscotch gulped, "But Apple Bloom is—"

Eris chuckled, "Apple Bloom'll be paintin' that room for hours yet, Butt-Butt. Trust me on this one."

Apple Bloom's yell carried through the walls, muffled, "ERIS! WHERE'S MY LADDER AT?"

Eris curled a talon underneath Butterscotch's chin and scratched, "Which means we won't have any in~ter~rup~tions~." A pair of earmuffs squeezed Applejack's stomach, "Or any eavesdroppers."

Applejack got a hungry look in her eyes, "An' it's been a hot minute since that's happened."

"I think we should seize this opportunity, Applejack. Carpe diem?"

"Carpe *daddy.*"

"Okay..." Butterscotch closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. He opened them a new, demanding stallion, Staring into Applejack's eyes with ferocious greed, "Upstairs, now."

She was all too happy to comply.