“Perhaps turquoise accents for the shawl? Or we can stick with the Carolina blue to match the dress. What do you think?”
“Mmm… eeey… uh.” Big Mac tapped his chin and pondered at the two shades of blue material hovering before his eyes. They both looked nice.
Rarity gave a long, over-dramatic sigh as she lowered the fabrics away from him. “All right, this isn’t working. No offense, but you’re not really the one who should be deciding, don’t you think?” She tilted her head and smiled, waiting.
Big Mac looked away sheepishly, thankful they were in the privacy of his bedroom, the curtains tightly drawn and his family mostly out of the house. Their… relationship had initially begun behind the shuttered curtains of Rarity’s boutique after-hours, where it felt safe and distant enough from home that he could relax, and where he could explore options and learn. But sometimes it was less risk for Rarity to come over than for Big Mac to go to town with a suspiciously large garment bag, moreso when it was for minor adjustments that Rarity could handle quickly.
He went to his closet, stepping carefully over Rarity’s scattered supplies of little pouches of thread, paper-thin packs of needle, and a classic red pincushion that she swept out from under his hoof before he crushed it. There in the top shelf he pulled from a non-descript cardboard box a beautifully kept wig of curls, which he then fitted over his natural orange mane, not fussing to be sure it covered it all.
He cleared his throat and closed his eyes, before he gave a high-pitched hum, feeling the slight shift as Orchard’s high, heady voice came from his lips. Once more he glanced at the two shades of fabric, eyeing them more critically as he considered the full ensemble that currently lay spread on his bed. “I do believe that the turquoise would look phenomenal. The paler blue may be a poor contrast against all the white.”
“Excellent! I’m quite fond of the turquoise myself,” Rarity said, lifting the chosen color. “See? Not so hard, was it? Anything else while I’m here?”
“Well, now that you mention it,” Orchard Blossom said, having been too self-conscious to ask earlier, “If you wouldn’t mind, could you take a look at the hem again? I know you fixed it last time but I trip on it constantly.”
“Still? Hmm, put it on and I’ll take another look," she said. "We could always raise it another half inch.”
“Thank you again, my dear,” Orchard Blossom said, revelling in the sound and the ease with which the words poured forth so formal and sweet. “I really, truly appreciate all your help. Though I do feel right-awful for making you come all the way out here just for this.”
Rarity waved a dismissive hoof. “Please, darling, no need, it’s my pleasure. I love seeing ponies discover their inner-fabulosity! And, well, I get to see…” She paused, trailing off before snapping to attention again. “Besides! it’s nice having an excuse to step out of the shop, and it’s not such a long walk here. Now, let’s see this on you!”
Minutes later, he stood in the fine dress, holding more-or-less still while Rarity hummed and tutted, deftly sticking pins in along the hem.
“It seems to be the sides causing the trouble,” Rarity muttered, squinting in the poor light from his shaded lamp. “Shouldn’t be a problem. I can just—“
“Big Mac!” Applebloom called from outside the door.
He tore the wig off his head and crouched down behind the bed, hoping she wouldn’t come in, while simultaneously shushing Rarity who made an offended little noise. Too late, he realized he had torn the dress from her magic, pins and all.
“Big Mac, you in there?” Applebloom said, still talking through the door.
“Ah-h, eeyup!” he shouted, his own deep voice once again. At least he wasn’t wearing makeup, he thought feverishly. If she opened the door, he could throw the dress off, toss it under the bed, and pray she wouldn’t ask questions. Rarity might be trickier to explain away and he couldn’t exactly shove her under the bed. He glanced over, sizing her up. It might still be an option.
Applebloom’s voice again, still from the hallway. “Granny Smith said ta remind you to put away the Jonagold bushels before dinner and get that next order ready.” A pause. The door remained shut. “Big Mac? Ya got all that?”
“E-eyup.”
There was the sound of fading footsteps and he sighed. At least one of his sisters was polite enough to not barge into his bedroom. He looked to Rarity and became aware of how silly he must look, crouched behind his bed, still in the frou-frou dress. Slowly he rose, his gaze kept low, his cheeks warm.
He carefully pulled it over his head and held it out to Rarity, who took it in her magic. The pins she had put in had come undone, possibly even ripping the fabric. It didn’t seem very important anymore.
“Sorry,” he muttered, staring at the floor where the dust-ruffle nearly swept the wooden boards. “Just forget… t-the hem’s fine.”
Rarity silently held the dress in her magic, the fabric floating carefully beside her. He wouldn’t have blamed Rarity for leaving. Instead, when he looked up, she was casting a cool gaze at the mislaid pins, before she began to put them back in place one by one.
“You know,” Rarity said softly, as she lifted her needle and thread, “I don’t think Applebloom would really mind if she knew.”
“Nope,” he said with a firm shake of his head. “I don’t need both ma sisters ashamed of me.”
“Dear, I’m quite sure Applejack isn’t ashamed of you. You’re her brother.”
Big Mac didn’t answer, just stared hard at the old hardwood floor at his hooves, not wanting to argue or admit that his little sister was embarrassed of him.
Rarity glanced up from her needlework. “Perhaps she just doesn’t understand yet. She’ll come around eventually.”
He made a scoffing noise, and looked at the shawl that lay over the edge of his bed. It was a frilly, flimsy thing, something he’d never be caught dead in as a stallion. He dropped his head, glancing at the beautiful dress Rarity was kind enough to fix up for him. Was it all worth it?
Rarity hummed thoughtfully, her eyes to her work. “Perhaps Applejack simply needs to meet Orchard Blossom, get a chance to know this part of you.”
Big Mac thought that was a real bad idea, although he didn’t say it. More likely than not it would only make things worse. Dinner talks were already awkward enough whenever something even remotely close to the subject came up, and Applejack was notoriously bad at changing subjects.
“She’s a good pony, your sister. I have faith in her,” Rarity said, and with such sincerity that Big Mac peered at her. She had a faraway look on her face, but blinked herself out of it at catching Big Mac staring.
“S-speaking of, I was thinking of making her a scarf. Making all of our friends scarves, I mean! In fact, perhaps I’ll make you one as well, rumor is that it’s to be a cold winter,” Rarity rattled off quickly, her needle flying effortlessly as she talked. “Anyway, I was wondering what color I should do for dear Applejack. I was thinking perhaps red, for her cutie mark. But then, green would look quite wonderful on her, and it would match her beautiful eyes—“
Big Macintosh stared at Rarity, who had clasped a hoof to her mouth and stared back at him, equally shocked. Neither spoke. Rarity opened her mouth, made the smallest attempt at a noise, then shut it again.
He just kept looking at her. Rarity had just said his sister has beautiful eyes, which might have been nothing except for the way she said it. And if not for how flustered she was acting all of a sudden.
“I-I mean… well, yes. Green would match her eyes. Just so.” She gave a crisp nod and went back to finishing her stitches.
Big Mac found his mouth stuck shut. He didn’t know how to bring it up again, or what to say… but he knew somepony who did. He reached for the wig of curls and stuck it on his head.
“Now then!” Orchard Blossom said, turning to face Rarity and resting her chin on her hooves. “What’s all this about Applejack and her stunning eyes?”
“Oh no,” Rarity said, holding up a hoof in warning. “I know that look and you’re not going to get me to spill!”
“So there’s something to spill, hmm?”
“No!” she said shrilly, before coughing into her hoof and collecting herself. “No, of course not. I only meant that to say she does have quite nice eyes, just like all of our friends. There’s nothing wrong with acknowledging that, everyone appreciates a compliment. All of our friends have lovely eyes, Twilight has quite nice… purple eyes.”
“Uh huh. And are you quite sure there’s nothing else?”
Rarity opened her mouth but apparently thought better of it, because instead she refocused all of her attention to the unfinished hem, her horn growing bright as the needle flew through the air then the thread twisted and was neatly cut.
“Well I think that’ll do it for you. You’re all set.” She grinned, a touch madly, with a clap of her hooves.
Big Mac sat up, frowning. It was Orchard Blossom’s sweet voice that spoke. “Rarity, my dear, you know you can tell me anything, don’t you?”
“Well, but… no. I mean—you can’t tell her I said anything, all right!” Rarity said urgently. “It’s a secret… Her… her present, I mean!”
“I won’t say one word, promise,” he said, and raised a hoof solemnly.
She studied him, and then relaxed a little, running a hoof through her mane. “Good. Not that there’s really any big deal, just…”
“Yes…?” He leaned in, batting his eyes.
“Well, you see I… the truth is that I was thinking recently about her and… it’s all rather silly!” She gave a fluttery laugh, her eyes flickering around the small bedroom. “And it made me realize, um… I-I realized…”
She hesitated and Big Mac held his breath.
“Oh my! Will you look at the time! I’m sure you’re busy, I wouldn’t want to keep you any longer. I’ll see myself out. Au revoir!”
She was out the door before she had even finished speaking, crisply shutting the door closed.
“Well I’ll be,” he muttered, his grin growing as her heard her quick steps fading on the stairs.
Still laughing, he pulled the wig from his head and shook out his mane.
By the sounds of it, Applejack had an admirer.
Not just any pony, either: Rarity had a crush on his little sister.
Now what could he do with this information?
He loved his sister, but she could be as thick as a rock when it came to romance. She wouldn’t know she was being courted even if somepony beat it over her head with a neon sign. And trying to get her to talk about it would be like wrestling hogs: pointless, messy and frustrating. Did she even like fillies? He had a feeling even she might not know.
And it wasn’t like her or Applebloom had a mom around to talk with about these sorts of things.
He looked at the heap of golden curls in his hooves and felt an idea forming. Maybe Rarity was right. It wasn’t as if he had tried talking with Applejack about himself, or about what she wanted, or really much at all. In fact, he couldn’t recall the last time the two had really sat and talked together, brother to sister, neither of them much for opening up when it really mattered.
He might not get Applejack to talk, but maybe, just maybe… there was somepony who could.
Author's Note
Finally posting this!
Original plan was to have the whole story written before publishing, but wanted to sneak into the Pride and Positivity event.
This is something of a midquel to ‘Don’t Want Perfection.'
When writing the actual sequel Applejack was being uncooperative. Really uncooperative. And I realized it was because I didn’t understand her enough, so I wrote this! (which was a story I had been planning for some time anyway)
Funny how things work like that.
Even funnier? It didn’t actually solve the problem. And turns out there was a good reason AJ was being uncooperative, I just had to let her figure things out.
As life goes.
