Orchard Blooms

Chapters

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4

Chapter 1

“Thanks for helpin’ with the harvest, sugarcube,” Applejack says with a grin as I dismount from my motorcycle.

“It’s not like I’ve got anything else to do over the summer,” I say.

I pull my helmet off and hang it from the handle of my bike. The heat is cloying, but I’m wearing my leathers anyway. Dress for the slide, as they say. That said, I start peeling them off the moment I’m off my bike, stripping down to the already-sweat-stained tee shirt and jean-shorts I’d put on for the day’s work.

“Ugh, it should not be this hot at nine in the morning,” I grumble as I run my fingers through my hair, teasing out the snarls and tangles from the ride.

“And it only gets hotter,” Applejack says with a grin.

“Disgusting.” I glance around as I scowl playfully at my friend. “Where’s that rain barrel?”

Applejack jerks a thumb towards the barn and I immediately head in that direction with my friend behind me while I look around, squinting in the harsh sunlight until I spot it under the gutter at the barn’s north corner.

I don’t give a damn if the water is crystal clear or half-mud, so long as it’s cold.

Without a word to Applejack I put a hand on either side of the barrel and dunk head, shoulders, and half my torso into the freezing water.

The shock of it knocks the wind from my lungs, but in a good way if that makes any sense, and I emerge violently with a gasp, swinging my hair around like a wet dog and earning a shout of mock outrage from Applejack as I spray her.

I take deep breaths as I shake my head, and as I clear the water from my ears I hear something clatter to the ground.

Apple Bloom is standing a few feet away, having come from around the corner of the barn, and was staring at me as her sister took her turn at the barrel.

At the feet of the Apple Clan’s youngest daughter, now a beautiful and vibrant young woman of nineteen, is a large stack of apple baskets.

“WOOEE!” Applejack crows as she pulls herself out of the rain barrel and shakes her head, giving as good as she got from me. “That’ll wake ya up.”

“No kidding,” I say with a chuckle before turning to Apple Bloom. “You okay, Bloom?”

I’d known Applejack’s younger sister for over five years now. She’d been a freshman when I was a senior with the rest of the girls. Over the course of the last few years, she’d sprouted up to five-foot and eight inches of lean beauty. Her gawky, coltish sophomore and junior years were well behind her and she was shaping up to be every bit the knockout that her sister is. I knew plenty of boys, and a few girls, that had crushed hard on Apple Bloom in her last year. If they could see her now they’d probably double down. Her outfit is much the same as mine, there are only so many choices when your day involves sweating like a hog in the dead of summer doing manual labor, but she’s rocking it a little differently, with her too-big gray tee that’s tied up at the arms and midriff.

Actually… I recognise that shirt. It’s one of Applejack’s, making it one of Apple Bloom's many hand-me-downs. Applejack and Bloom both have that lean, powerful, thoroughbred look to them, but there’s no getting around the fact that Applejack is both taller and broader than her younger sister.

Either way, I spent enough nights over at Sweet Apple Acres to think of her as a good friend, but I’d never seen her wear a look on her face like she was wearing right now; her cheeks had gone red, her eyes are wide, and her mouth is open in a small, shocked, ‘o’.

“Bloom?”

Applejack gives her sister an odd look, and instantly Apple Bloom’s expression vanishes to be replaced with a grin no different from any of her other smiles.

“Mornin’ Sunset,” she drawls, “how was the ride?”

“Hot and sweaty,” I say with a laugh.

Her cheeks color again, but only for a moment.

“Bloom, y’all go ahead and get started up in the north orchard with Sunset here,” Applejack says as she wrings out her hair.

“What?!”

Apple Bloom’s eyes go wide, earning odd looks from both of us this time.

“What’s the problem?” Applejack asks sharply. “Me’n Mac can handle an orchard apiece, but we got ‘bout a decade more experience in us than you, so Sunset’ll help, unless you got an issue with mah friend?”

Those last few words come out with a razor hidden behind them. As far as our friend group goes, Applejack is only less protective of us than Rainbow Dash, and not by a lot.

“N-No, Ah just… Ah thought Ah was workin’ alone, that’s all,” Apple Bloom says, waving a hand defensively.

Applejack narrows her eyes and her sister for a moment, nods, then shrugs.

“I’ll grab another stack'a baskets,” Bloom says, nodding behind her.

“It’s fine,” I say, moving past her and putting a hand on her shoulder. “I know where they are.”

Her response is something like an affirmative wheeze, and I raise an eyebrow. Before I can ask, though, she moves out from under my hand.

“O-Okay! I’ll meetcha up there then!” She gives me that trademark Apple Family grin, dimples and all, and then puts her back to me and starts sprinting.

“Is Bloom okay?” I ask, turning to Applejack who’s eyeing her sister’s rapidly dwindling back with clear suspicion.

Then she turns the look on me, although it only lasts a moment before she smiles, then starts laughing.

“Yeah,” Applejack says through her chortles. “Ah reckon she’s just fine.”

“If you say so,” I say with a shrug.

I head into the barn to retrieve the set of barrels I’d be using, load them up on my shoulders, and turn to start the long walk up to the north orchard. It’s beautiful out here in the summer, absolutely beautiful, and I savor the short hike through the vibrant orchard.

Out here, it almost feels like I’m back in Equestria again.

Not that I would want to leave the human world since I’ve gone pretty native, but there’s a certain nostalgia for the bright colors and unfettered nature of Equestria that I’ll always miss just a little.

“Hey!”

I call out to Apple Bloom as I spot her in front of one of the larger trees with a sore look on her face, shaking her fist out which, I note, has a brilliant set of bruised knuckles.

“Ow, sonuva—oh! H-Hey, Sunset!”

Apple Bloom forces a smile through her grimace, and I chuckle quietly.

“You tried ‘the punch’ didn’t you?” I ask as I stop beside the tree and drop my baskets beside hers.

“Ah don’t get what Ah’m doin’ wrong,” Apple Bloom says grumpily.

‘The Punch’ as it is affectionately referred to among our little group, is something I’ve only ever seen members of the Apple Family do.

The bark of the apple trees at Sweet Apple Acres is particularly obdurate, and part of me wonders if it’s some kind of micro-evolution responding to how Applejack and her family shake the trees down for their apples. Regardless, it means that they can get pretty rough with them without damaging the trees, up to and including physically knocking the apples out of the trees with a single, well-placed punch.

Watching Applejack do ‘the punch’ is like watching a kung fu master take down someone twice their size and three times their weight. It’s a fluid economy of motion that starts at the feet and travels up the body in a single graceful strike ending in a bough-shaking impact that rattles a good three-quarters of the tree’s bounty to the ground.

The fact that Apple Bloom can’t pull off ‘the punch’ properly is the main reason she’s not as fast at harvesting as her brother and Applejack, who mastered the technique some time ago.

“Here, let me,” I say, nodding for Apple Bloom to move.

She gives me a withering look as I step past her and put my hand on the tree bark, running my palm over the thick, knotted bark.

“Y’all’re actin’ like you can do it,” Apple Bloom says with a scowl.

“I can.”

“Horseshit,” Apple Bloom snaps. “Ain’t no one but’n Apple can pull that move off.”

I shrug off her waspish reply and turn to shoot her my second-best shit-eating grin. Her scowl melts away at what I can only assume is the sheer nerve on my face, and after a moment her cheeks go red as she heatedly waves a hand at the tree.

“Well fine!” She says. “Prove it!”

I feel a little bad, but at the same time, my vanity and pride keep my mouth shut as I turn to the tree. As mean as it is, I can’t wait to see the look on Apple Bloom’s face.

With hesitation, I let myself go slack. My feet plant into the earth, grinding down and laying deep roots. The air leaves my lungs before returning in a slow draw that rides up the muscles of my legs, through my trunk, into my heart and out along my arms, and in that same motion of breath, I pivot the full weight of my body and lance out a fist that connects hard with the trunk of the tree.

Full power. Center mass.

The tree rocks and a brief hailstorm of apples drop to the soft grass beneath the boughs with a chorus of gentle thuds.

I turn and give Apple Bloom my best shit-eating grin.

“See? No sweat!”

Apple Bloom is staring with a slack jaw and a dumbstruck look of total disbelief as I shake out my only lightly bruised hand. I still don’t get how Applejack whacks every single tree in the orchard like that and somehow manages to still have skin on her hands.

“H—” Apple Bloom chokes on her words as she raises a shaky hand to point at the mostly-appleless tree— “HOW?!”

I tone down my grin to a smile and chuckle.

“Because I cheat,” I reply. “Or… I cheated, once, two years ago, remember? During that big harvest when two of the hired hands got in a wreck and couldn’t work?”

Apple Bloom frowns thoughtfully as she lowers her hand.

“Oh yeah,” she looks up at me suspiciously. “But we got it all done anyhow, right?”

“Your sister and I mi~ght have used some magic to help out with that,” I admit sheepishly.

“But that don’t make sense,” Apple Bloom says. “How’s your magic supposed to help with that? Ain’t it just mind-readin’ or somethin’?”

Mind reading. That’s what it looks like on the outside, I know, and honestly, I take great pains to make sure that preconception stays intact among my friends. The truth is that the power I gained from my geode goes a lot deeper than just the mind.

“Yes,” I say quietly, “and no.”

Apple Bloom stares at me, then looks at the tree, and I feel a pang of guilt shoot through my chest as her face falls. That lower-lip quiver ought to be illegal for how cute it is. No one should be allowed to look that helpless.

“Dagnabbit,” Apple Bloom says wetly. “Even y’all’re a better Apple than me.”

Shit.

“Hey, that’s not true,” I say softly, stepping closer and putting an arm over her shoulder. “I told you… I cheated. I didn’t earn that move, I just— well, I didn’t steal it, I just borrowed it. You’re the one who’s earning it the right way.”

“What’s it matter if all ya gotta do is,” she gives her hand a vaguely mystical wiggle, “and ya know it?”

Why can’t I just keep my big mouth shut and my bigger ego under control? I didn’t have to use the punch. I could’ve just helped Apple Bloom the right way and everything would have been fine but nope! Sunset Shimmer had to show off again! Because that’s what she does!

Twenty-three years old, with countless friendship lessons under my belt, and I’m still a bitch on accident better than half the time.

“Want me to teach you?” I ask.

“Big Sis says it can’t really be taught,” Apple Bloom grumbles.

“Let me try.”

I hold out a hand and smile, and that touch of pink comes back to Apple Bloom’s cheeks as she stares at it for a long moment, licks her lips, then shyly puts her smaller hand in mine.

Taking a firm grasp, I lead her over to another tree and set her in front of it at what I take a guess is the right distance given the length of her arms.

“Okay, this is going to feel a little weird, but bear with me,” I say as I take both of her wrists, one in each hand and mold myself against her back.

“W—?! S-Sunset, w-what’re ya—?” Apple Bloom stammers.

“Relax,” I say quietly as I try to focus on the amber glow inside of me. “Just let me lead and listen to my voice.”

I move her right hand back, using my center of gravity to move her torso with the motion, and lead her left hand forward until her palm is resting on the bark of the tree.

“Just relax,” I repeat. “Let your muscles go slack… don’t try to learn, don’t try to force it. You’re a daughter of the Apple Clan, and the land knows that. The trees know it, the grass knows it, the ground knows it from the topsoil to the bedrock.”

“Ah don’t—”

“Ssh,” I hiss, and she clams up. “Just listen to my voice and close your eyes.”

“O-Okay.”

She sounds frightened, and I don’t blame her, but this is the best way I know how to help her. I can feel the uncertainty radiating out of her, even without my geode. I can feel her fears of inadequacy, which is a giant mood if I’m being honest, along with how harshly she’s judging herself.

“You don’t need to learn,” I say quietly. “You just need to let yourself remember.”

From deep inside myself I dredge up a few sparks of magic.

Something that I and the rest of the girls discovered some years ago was that the longer we used our geodes, the less we needed them. Sure, maybe Rarity can’t conjure bulwarks of opal light and Pinkie can’t turn the local confectionary into an IED, but we can do small things.

Rainbow is crazy fast. Applejack is unreasonably strong. Rarity can manifest little planes of light to move things around, Fluttershy can get an unnaturally accurate gist of what animals are talking about, Pinkie turns almost any ice cream topping into a small firecracker, and Twilight has begun developing true rudimentary telekinesis.

And me?

I tighten my grip on Apple Bloom’s wrists just slightly, and connect.

“Harmony,” I say. “This is harmony.”

Apple Bloom gasps softly as the collective memory of the land around her washes through her. It doesn’t flood in. It’s too vast for that, and besides, the land doesn’t recall things the way we do, but it remembers us. The earth remembers the drumbeat of a thousand Apple footsteps. The air remembers their laughter. The trees remember each and every harvest; every cycle, every lifetime, and it’s all connected.

“The trees, the roots, the earth, the air… everything is harmony,” I say as Apple Bloom’s breathing starts to even out. “Imagine a ball of light shining blindingly bright… that’s us, we just don’t know it. We’re all the same, we’re all harmony.

“Now imagine that ball of light with a black cloth full of pinholes thrown over it, and how the light shines through each tiny hole like a million unique stars. I’m one of those, and you’re another one, and your sister is another, and every member of your family is one too. We’re all the same light playing hide-and-seek with itself, we just have to peek beneath the cloth and remember.”

I take in a deep breath and as I do I feel Apple Bloom remember along with me.

We remember the memories of the earth and mud because that soil remembers just how a different pair of feet that was also the same pair as always settled into it time and time and time again. The air remembers for the both of us just how we breathed it in so many times before. We close our fist as the tree remembers how much force we exerted and precisely how our body tensed in the moment just before we struck. The land remembers when we were Applejack and Big Mac. When we were Bright Mac and Pear Butter and Granny Smith.

It remembers how we bent our knees, breathed deep, bunched our muscles, and with the memory of tens of thousands of strikes over thousands of trees over hundreds of harvests it recalls exactly how we dig in our heels, flex, twist, and STRIKE.

The tree rocks and I step back with a broad grin as apples rain from the sky.

Apple Bloom stares down at the mass of apples around her, then turns to me with the most deliriously happy smile on her face that I’ve ever seen.

I get a glimpse of it that lasts only half a second before she tackles me, arms wide before they tighten around me in a desperate, joyous hug and—

And suddenly a pair of warm, soft lips are pressing against mine.

If I were a better person, I would have gathered my wits as quickly as possible and stepped back from Apple Bloom. I would have let her down easy, realising that she probably was just riding a high from tasting the universal conjunction of harmony for the first time in her life, and needed an outlet.

Yeah.

If I were a better person.

Instead, I’m a kind of shitty person who hasn’t been laid in a while with notoriously terrible impulse control.

My hands go to Apple Bloom’s waist, slipping around the bare skin of her midriff to the cute dimples at the small of her back as I let out a soft moan and open my mouth just slightly, enough for our tongues to meet and play together. Her hands tangle into my hair, and she runs her fingers through it, caressing my neck here and there and sending shivers down my spine as she does and the whole time there’s a teeny tiny part of my brain which is absolutely screaming at me to stop. Because this is Apple Bloom. This is my best friend’s little sister.

Objectively, yes, she’s an adult. She graduated (with better grades than her big sister I might add), has a good head on her shoulders, and she is completely allowed to make her own choices regarding who she pursues romantically.

Applejack is still going to make sure no one ever finds my body, though. I know her. She has plenty of land to hide my murdered corpse. And yet, my survival instinct is still not strong enough to convince me to pry Apple Bloom off of me.

She’s just… really nice to kiss, honestly.

When she finally pulls back, we’re both breathing hard. Her lips are red and slightly swollen, and her cheeks are brilliantly flushed, and it’s in that moment I realise that her eyes are the most enchanting shade of red I’d ever seen.

They’re the exact color of rose apples.

“Bloom, I—”

She silences me with another kiss, sealing her lips over mine again. This time, though, the kiss is softer, more chaste, and so much sweeter. If that last kiss had been hard to pull away from, this one is downright impossible.

This time her hands move over and around my shoulders. Apple Bloom drapes herself from me and I find myself naturally moving to cradle her in my arms. She’s just the right height, just the right weight, that she fits perfectly against me. It’s not fair. It is not fair that she’s this nice to hold.

Illegal.

Absolutely fucking illegal.

Well, call me a criminal then, I guess.

After what feels like an hour but was probably more like a minute and a half, Apple Bloom draws back. It’s a slow thing. Like a knife being pulled out from between my ribs despite my being unable to account for how it got planted there in the first place. It’s a little galling that I follow the touch of her lips for a moment before getting a hold of my own self and pulling back too.

We’re both breathing hard by this point, and she’s staring up into my eyes like the stars in the sky, and—

“Ah love you.”

What?

W—

What?

Before I can respond, Apple Bloom’s eyes go wide as she, I think, realises what three words just came out of her mouth. She claps a hand over her lips, backs up, then turns, pausing only to snatch up her three barrels, and deadass sprints away from me at full speed to the other side of the north orchard.

“Well… shit,” I say to the trees.

I like to think that they empathise.

Author's Note

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Chapter 2 Author's Note

Earning that red tag with this chapter.

Chapter 2

I don’t see Apple Bloom for the rest of the day, although admittedly a part of that is intentional. I want to give her some space after what definitely should not have happened, happened. The problem is that the more I work, the more time I have alone with my thoughts, and the more I’m forced to come to the unsettling conclusion that her reaction, and the kiss, may not have been the doing of my magic after all.

Maybe it was encouraged by it but…

The blushing, the stammering, the odd looks. I have no idea how I missed it before, maybe because I just have a blind spot when it comes to my friends’ siblings which I feel is entirely fair, but I’d be willing to guess that Apple Bloom has been nursing a fairly big crush on me for a while.

The more I think about it the more it seems likely.

To my knowledge, Apple Bloom never had any serious relationships while she was in high school. Not even a fling under the bleachers. She was always really serious about graduating with good grades and working hard. I tutored her a lot through her senior year because I admired her tenacity and drive.

Now I realise that may have been a mistake.

Not helping her, obviously, but I think I’ve been blind to her affection for a long time, and that did her no favors.

I don’t know if she exclusively bats for her own team the way I do, but I can’t help but wonder if my presence kept her from having a healthy relationship with a girl her own age.

Written’s Quill, as if I needed more guilt.

By the time night rolls around I’ve pretty much convinced myself that I ruined Applejack’s little sister by proxy if nothing else, and was really building up a good head of steam in the mental self-flagellation department by the time I was carrying the last basket of apples down the steps into the storage cellar of the barn.

The north orchard is the furthest from the Sweet Apple Acres homestead so it takes the longest to store from, but it’s also the smallest of the orchards so it balances out. Although I didn’t see Apple Bloom after we parted ways, I did see her at work. She's definitely got ‘the punch’ down because she was going through trees fast. Not quite at her sister's clip, but still, fast.

Me? Not so much. My hand starts killing me after four or five trees.

It’ll still take better than a week to clear the north, even with us both working.

“What am I doing?” I groan as I set down the basket by a barrel and start storing the apples.

It’s almost dark and the cellar is getting dim as I get to the last layer of apples at the bottom of the basket. As I kneel to grab one, I feel a hand go to my shoulder.

“Hey, AJ, I—” I start as I turn my head.

Eyes like rose apples are staring back at me. The apple drops from my hand as I stand up, open my mouth to say… say something… anything.

Instead, she kisses me again.

Apple Bloom all but pins me against the barrel as she leans against me, melts against me, and kisses me. Her hands go to either side of my face, and the pads of her fingers trace little patterns on my skin as our mouths move together as one. I’m doing it again. I’m not saying no even though I know that I ought to.

Instead, I’m holding her again. I’m pulling her closer. I’m deepening the kiss.

Compounding my mistakes.

Then she pulls back, her mouth still softly open and inviting, and to my personal frustration I lean in to kiss her. Not just reciprocating but initiating. I grip her waist, and a moment later my hands are moving lower, taking hold of her backside and earning a soft moan from Apple Bloom as I gently squeeze.

She draws back again, but this time it’s only to kiss along the side of my jaw, then along my neck. One of her hands wanders from my face to my shoulder, then down to cup my breast to give a soft, tentative squeeze as she tests her boundaries.

This is definitely where I should draw the line but I don’t. Instead, I let out a quiet, pleased sigh.

She moves against me addictively, shifting and pressing against my chest as she kisses down my collar, back up my throat, and along my chin until her lips meet mine again.

Then she draws back.

“Ah gotta go,” Apple Bloom says softly as she pulls away.

“Huh? Wha—?” I start, but she pecks my lips, putting paid to my mumbling, then steps back before turning and all but sprinting out of the basement.

“What…” I mumble, before licking my lips and tasting apples. “What the fuck just happened?”

Call me stuck in my ways, but I am not used to being the one getting topped then left wanting more. That’s my gig. So here I am, red-faced, with messy hair and some serious issues south of the border in the stocking cellar of my best friend’s barn wondering if maybe I might be the one who’s getting in over her head.

I finish my task in a daze before stumbling out of the cellar to head back to the farmhouse, intent on retrieving my leathers for the ride home.

“You a’right, sugarcube?”

Applejack is sitting in an old chair on the front porch nursing a hard cider. She looks exhausted, but in a good way. She looks like someone who worked hard all day and is enjoying the fruits of her labor. Literally.

“Yeah,” I say, forcing a laugh. “It’s just been a while since I hauled that many apples around, plus the north orchard is halfway to the Commons, so…”

“Aw, quitcher bitchin’ it ain’t that bad,” Applejack laughs, waving a hand. “C’mere’n take a load off, crack one open.”

“I can’t, I gotta drive,” I say, shaking my head. “Raincheck though, maybe when all this is done.”

“I’ll be cashin’ that check, for sure,” Applejack says as she taps the neck of her bottle against the rim of her hat. “Drive safe, sugarcube.”

I pass Applejack and step into the main room where my leathers are folded neatly by the couch, and sit down to start pulling them on. While I do I have time to reflect on just how much trouble I’m getting myself into, because Apple Bloom is all kinds of trouble.

Like, farmer’s daughter levels of trouble.

“You leavin’?”

I pause for a moment as I’m pulling on my leather jacket, then nod without looking back towards the voice as I finish yanking my arm through the sleeve.

“Comin’ back tomorrow?”

“I promised I would,” I say as I lean down to pull on my boots and lace them up. “The harvest isn’t done in a day, after all.”

“Do… do ya hate me?”

My brain comes to a slow halt as I stop tying off the laces. Then I sigh and finish up before standing and turning to face Apple Bloom as I tug my jacket straight around my shoulders.

What I see almost takes my breath away.

She’s wearing a long tee-shirt with what I think is a sports team logo on the front, but it’s too faded to tell. It hangs down her legs stopping just above her knees, and the look on her face is one of quiet pleading for some kind of affection. Some kind of assurance.

“Never,” I say with a smile. And I absolutely mean it.

Her face brightens, then she glances behind her before turning back to me and skipping over. I know what she’s about to do but either I’m not fast enough to stop her… or more likely I don’t care enough.

Apple Bloom pushes close to me and leans up on her tip-toes to press a soft kiss to my lips, and my hands move instinctively to her waist as she does.

“Drive safe, Sunset,” she says softly as steps away. “See ya tomorrow.”

“Y-Yeah,” I reply quietly. “Tomorrow.”

I can’t help myself. I reach a hand up and trace my knuckles down her cheek, feeling the soft warmth of her for a moment as she leans into my touch. Then I pass her by and head out the door, doing my best not to look guilty as Applejack waves good-bye, having no idea that, a moment ago, I was kissing her younger sister fifteen feet away from her.

The ride back home is a long one, but my mind is so occupied that the drive fairly flies by. I’m not even thinking of anything in particular beyond a pair of rose-apple eyes and soft lips. That shouldn’t be what I’m thinking about, but I am.

The funny thing is that if Apple Bloom were a stranger I probably wouldn’t be thinking twice about hooking up with her. The problem is that she’s not a stranger. She’s Apple Bloom! I’ve been to every one of her birthday parties for the past five years!

And that whole time she was probably looking at me in a way I didn’t realise.

Written’s Quill, I hate it when decisions are hard.

I pull into the parking lot for my complex, take my assigned spot under one of the covered areas, and dismount. The ride helped a little, but only a little. I’m still restless… almost nervous, but not quite. Tomorrow I'll be going to go back to Sweet Apple Acres, and I'll do it again and again and again for the next week while we work our way through the late-summer apple harvest.

Those apples are always the most fragile.

So I’ll go back, I’ll help, and all the while I’ll probably be working with Apple Bloom in the north orchard which means that, knowing me, I will definitely make more mistakes.

I was right.

“Bloom, we—mmph.”

It’s halfway through the day, and up until now, we’ve been working at a fair clip. Honestly, we’re way ahead of where I know Applejack projected we’d be, largely because Apple Bloom can pull off that punch with a hundred percent accuracy now.

That, of course, meant that the moment we started working in the same grid square of the orchard, Apple Bloom walked over to me, bold as brass, and pulled me into another kiss.

Naturally, I don’t even try to push back. Rather, I do the exact opposite because I make terrible life choices and most of my problems are self-inflicted. So I hold onto her, I pull her against me, and I savor the way her weight settles against me as I lean back against the tree I was about to shake down as indulge myself and Apple Bloom.

Everything smells like apples and flowers right now, and the taste of her lip balm really is something else. Right now, if I ignore the fact that I’m currently making out with my best friend’s little sister, I’d say that everything is perfect.

There’s a kind of silent agreement between us right now, I think, that we don’t talk about what it is we’re up to. Talking about it might make it feel a little too real. For the moment there’s a certain dreamlike quality to everything. Everything is just a little too perfect and I think we both know that talking about it will spoil it.

Still, we have to eventually.

That’s the part I dread.

Apple Bloom pulls back, smiling and blushing as she brushes a few strands of red hair from her face, then leans in and kisses my cheek lightly before stepping away and going silently back to her work.

I work through my grid square and then out and away from Apple Bloom’s set. I know we’ll eventually meet up again, but probably not until tomorrow, so I don’t get distracted again until it’s almost evening and Applejack comes strolling in through my neck of the woods with a fresh bottle of water.

“Hot damn, y’all’re gettin’ it done quick,” Applejack drawls as she passes me the water, which I have to fight my instinct to chug and instead drink down slowly.

“Yeah,” I say raggedly as I lower the bottle. “Your sister is almost as good as you.”

“Ah noticed,” Applejack says with a wry grin. “Also noticed she was knockin’ them apples outta the tree in one hit like she’d been doin’ it all’er life, ‘cept Ah know fer a fact she ain’t been able to figure out the trick of it… until yesterday.”

I wince.

“Don’t be mad,” I say before Applejack can continue.

“Ah ain’t,” Applejack says, waving a hand and grinning. “Bloom looks happier than she’s been in a long while, finally bein’ able to feel like a real Apple, even though we both know that’s a load’a crap… she’s as much an Apple as I am and always has been.”

“I know,” I say, feeling a wash of relief. “But believe me, coming from someone with serious self-esteem issues when it comes to feeling like I belong… I get it.”

“Ah know ya do,” Applejack says. “Part’a why Ah wanted’er t’work with ya. She respects you a helluva lot, sugarcube.”

“She respects you too,” I counter, frowning.

“Ah know,” Applejack repeats. “But Ah’m also’er sister, and siblings… well, we got a different way’a respectin’ each other, and there’s some stuff we just gotta hear from other folks.”

“I wouldn’t really know.”

Applejack winces then sighs and walks closer before throwing her arms around me and pulling me into a hug.

“Y’all got a family right here, sugarcube,” she says softly. “And you always, always, will.”

I nod, then bury my face against her shoulder as I hug her back just as hard. There’s something incredibly transient about being an orphan. It’s a feeling of constantly fading away, like no bond or link you have with anyone else is fully complete, and that at any time it might dissolve. I know that’s not true, especially with Applejack and her family. I know it intellectually, but feeling it is harder.

“Thanks,” I say as I step back. “A-Anyway, I better get back to it.”

“Sure thing,” Applejack says, smiling. “Just wanted t’letcha know we’re so far ahead Ah’m givin’ everyone the day off tomorrow. We’re makin’ great progress and frankly it’s supposed to blow past a hundred degrees tomorrow afternoon, so Ah figure maybe we skip that day and miss the heatstroke.”

“I’ll take that offer,” I say with a laugh. “Thanks, AJ.”

“Anytime, sugarcube.”

As Applejack walks away, heading back towards her own section of the orchard, all I can think is how that day off might be for the best. It will give Apple Bloom some time to cool her heels and give me some time to get my head on straight.

Right now, the constant proximity, the heat, and just how intense Apple Bloom is, makes it really hard to put up any kind of resistance. Especially since I really don’t want to and I’ve always been kind of crap at doing things I don’t want to do.

So I work until dusk, going through as many trees as possible until my knuckles are aching and my legs are burning. My whole body is slightly sticky with sweat and I can’t wait to get home if only so I can take a damn shower. I don’t see Apple Bloom the whole rest of the evening, not even as I’m putting on my riding leathers, which surprises me.

And, annoyingly, it also disappoints me.

I know I shouldn’t have been looking forward to kissing her goodnight before leaving, but I was. It’s probably for the best though, so I ignore the feeling and lace up my boots, tug my jacket straight, and head out to the driveway, waving back at Applejack who’s sitting on the porch, per usual, nursing another cider and looking over her family’s farm.

She once confessed to me that it was her absolute favorite thing to do in the whole world. Just to sit on that old wooden porch and watch the orchards and farmlands, and enjoy the land and the wind and the smell of it all.

I told her that being in love with her home was nothing to be ashamed of.

My bike growls to life and I open the throttle as I roll down the gravel road, get out onto the asphalt, and head for the highway. I won’t be seeing Apple Bloom until the day after tomorrow and by that point, I hope I'll have gotten my thoughts in order enough to have an actual conversation with her about what’s going on.

Part of me says I should tell Applejack but honestly, doing that feels like betraying Apple Bloom. She and I are both adults and I shouldn’t have to involve her older sister just because I’m too much of a coward to talk to her like one.

The ride home feels longer today, but I enjoy it all the same. The night air is still warm with the heat of summer bleeding up out of the street, and the wind is just enough to make it feel comfortable rather than cloying. The passing lights of the highway lamps, and eventually the lights of downtown Canterlot, race by me like passing stars and for a moment I let myself fall away into the speed of the ride and just live in the moment.

By the time I get home, I’m in a significantly better mood. I race up to my apartment, get inside, lock up, and immediately start stripping off my leathers as I head for the bathroom.

I’m really looking forward to that shower.

I spend a good half-hour under a stream of cool water as I sluice off the sweat of the day, scrub myself clean, and then just enjoy the milder temperature before I have to step back out into my too-hot apartment. I opened the window and set up my box fan before I took my shower, but that only does so much.

It’s not like the city is all that much cooler outside than it is in my apartment.

By the time I have the wherewithal to step out of the shower I’m feeling reasonably more human and a hell of a lot cleaner. I wrap the towel around myself as I step out, not quite willing to put even a light layer of clothes on yet with the heat the way it is, and walk out to my kitchenette where a cold glass of water is definitely calling my name.

I’m halfway through chugging it when a knock sounds at my door.

Frowning, I lower the glass and set it down, tie off my towel a little tighter, and head over to the door to peek through the spyhole.

The other side is empty, and that just makes me more suspicious. Then again, it might’ve just been a package being dropped off.

I make a quick sprint up to the loft where my bed is to drop my towel and change into my pajamas, a soft, red silk pair that Rarity made me for my birthday last year, and then head back down to open the door, ready and willing to throw hands if there’s a creeper on the other side.

No package, no creep.

I hold the door open for a moment, glancing around with narrowed eyes for a moment before pulling the door shut.

It doesn’t get halfway before I get tackled from behind prompting a squawk of alarm as a pair of familiar arms with gloved hands wrap around my waist and an extremely familiar weight settles on my back.

“Hey there~”

“Apple Bloom!” I pull away, staggering back and out of her arms with a scowl. “Written’s Quill, you just took ten years off my life!”

Apple Bloom’s smile falters as she steps back and tugs nervously at her thin jacket before kicking the door shut with her heel.

“Ah… Ah’m sorry,” she says shakily. “Ah just… Ah wanted t’surprise ya.”

“Well you did that!” I say, putting a hand to my chest as I try to slow the hammering of my heart. “What are you doing here?!”

“W—Whadya mean?” Apple Bloom asks softly, and the tiny pang of hurt in her voice puts a needle into my heart. “Ah’m… Ah came t’see ya.”

She moves a little closer, then a little more until she has both hands on my shoulders and she’s staring up at me with those beautiful rose-apple eyes, and against my better judgment, my hands find their way around her waist again.

“We got t’morrow off,” she continues, looking up at me with that sly smile of hers, “and Ah told mah sister Ah’d be out all night, too.”

Oh no. That’s a step too far, I am not going to—

Then she kisses me again, and like always, my brain goes dead silent. I don’t know what it is about the feel and taste of Apple Bloom’s lips, but apparently my brain has a 'Stupid' switch that acts as a manual override for my common sense and inhibitions, and Bloom kissing me flips it instantly. One minute I’m ready to tell her that this can’t go on, and that she and I need to come clean with her sister, and that maybe, maybe after that we can have a serious conversation about going out, and the next I’m kissing her like a dumbass.

As always, Apple Bloom’s intensity puts me on my heels and drives me back until I run into the couch. All the while more articles of clothing are dropping off of her. Her jacket goes first, and she somehow manages to kick her shoes off almost at the same time. Beneath that is a soft white blouse that hangs nicely off of her lean frame, and at some point during all of that my hands find their way to her backside again.

I draw my hands up the length of her body, and I think my original intent was to let go but it quickly turns into just touching her along her sides, then up her back until I’m teasing my fingers through her hair and getting a solid grip as she moans softly against my mouth.

Then she’s practically climbing me. Her legs hitch up to lock around my waist and her weight settles against me even more firmly as I’m suddenly carrying her. She’s surprisingly light, considering the stock she comes from and against my good sense and better judgment, boldly assuming I have any, I find myself slowly backing up the stairs to my loft.

All the while Apple Bloom is pulling her blouse off, then her thin tee shirt beneath it, and leaving them in a trail behind us until I bump against the side of my bed and drop down onto it, letting Apple Bloom settle into my lap as we continue to kiss.

I left my dignity and good sense downstairs and now… now I’m just following my instincts. I’d say that’s for better or worse but it’s definitely worse. My instincts are always bad, but I follow them anyway as I start tugging at Apple Bloom’s bra clasp until it releases and I move down from her lips, fixing my mouth over one of her nipples. I run my tongue across it, brush my teeth over the sensitive skin, and suckle, relishing that chorus of small, pleasured cries that come from her.

Apple Bloom’s fingers are already working at the belt of her jeans, pulling them loose, then shuffling them off, and I’m vaguely aware at this point that she’s got nothing on underneath them.

Cheeky little thing.

A moment later she’s pulling my pajama top off. Both of her hands find my breasts, kneading at them gently and sending little shivers of pleasure through me as I pull away from her to look up into lust-warmed, rose-apple eyes. Without a word, I turn to lay her down on my bed as she pulls my last bit of clothing off.

And I let her.

She’s lying beneath me, naked and beautiful, and for several heartbeats it’s all I can do just to stare at her. She’s flawless.

Slowly, I trace my fingers down her chest, across her navel, then lower. She doesn’t squirm or move away, she just nods with a small, shy smile on her face.

Damn it. Why does this have to feel so easy?

I lean down and kiss her warmly as I slide one finger across her slick entrance, up and down, and I savor the hitches in her breath and the soft moans she makes against my lips.

Apple Bloom’s whole body shakes in my arms as I slip a finger inside, first one, then two the moment I realize she’s comfortable.

Well, I was already pretty sure by this point that she wasn’t an amateur but now I’m positive. Emboldened, I rock my fingers in and out of her, settling into a tempo that has her bucking her hips against my hand and gasping against my lips in moments.

The real shock is when I feel her fingers slip between my thighs, pressing hard and pulling a guttural moan of pleasure from me as she slides two fingers inside and starts to give as good as she’s getting.

My legs wobble as, suddenly, I’m the one rolling my hips, and soon I’m lowering myself to my side and pulling her flush against me. I’m kissing her as I ride her fingers for several minutes while pushing her further and further toward her own edge until—

“S-Sunset, Ah’m close!”

“Me too,” I say breathlessly. “Come with me, do it~!”

Apple Bloom lets out a sharp gasp once, twice, then cries out as warmth spills over my hand, and I’m right behind her as I start bucking wildly, cussing fast and quiet under my breath as I finally come, drenching Apple Bloom’s fingers as I seal my mouth over hers.

For a long moment, we’re both just writhing against one another slowly, sensually, and gently. Her skin is so wonderfully soft, and my head is fuzzy with endorphins making the sensation that much more pleasurable.

When I do pull away from Bloom it’s only reluctantly, and I look down to see a face still heated with desire as she raises her hand, still soaked with my essence, and slowly puts her fingers to her mouth and licks herself clean.

“Uh…” I say intelligently.

“Lay back,” Apple Bloom says quietly as she pushes me down until I’m laying flat on my bed.

Then she moves to straddle me until I can feel the wet heat of her sex against mine as she settles into my lap, and after a moment of finding her balance, she starts to move.

“H-Holy shit!” I snarl as I grip her hips as she grinds against me.

I’m already way more sensitive than usual, so both the feeling and the sight of Apple Bloom riding me is bypassing every single thread of sense in my brain and wiring directly to my libido.

She’s riding me hard and steady, and I have to use my hands to keep myself from just wildly bucking my hips like a virgin on her first good night. Apple Bloom isn’t bothering to keep her voice down either, she’s moaning softly—she’s moaning my name softly—and that gets me going as hard as anything.

Between the sound, the sight, and the sensation, I’m already coming again a moment later on the heels of another stream of curses, while Apple Bloom hits her climax a little more gracefully as she cries out my name again before drenching my lap.

It is, hands down, the best sex of my life.

Apple Bloom goes slack on top of me, her head coming to rest against my chest as a contented purr takes up somewhere in my rib cage. I stroke her head for a while as I come down from the high she sent me to, and I hope to hell she felt as good as I did.

Without a word, Apple Bloom moves again, and I frown as she shifts out from under my hand and starts moving away from me.

“Are you o—OH!”

She moves down between my legs and buries her face between my thighs where, without a word of polite warning, starts to lick.

“Oh fuck!” I set both hands on her head and it takes all my self-control not to just grab her by the hair and start grinding against her mouth.

I know it’s not exactly classy but give me a break. It’s fuckin’ been a minute since a girl’s gone down on me.

“Bloom… don’t stop… don’t—oh fuck—don’t stop!”

I start shaking. Full-body shaking. And a moment later my hips are bucking and rolling against Apple Bloom’s mouth, and in the brief moment between fireworks going off in my head, I glimpse a sight that sticks fast in my brain: Apple Bloom, with her hair messy and her flushed cheeks, staring up at me from between my thighs with those beautiful rose-apple eyes.

She keeps me right on the edge with her tongue for long enough that I think I briefly go crazy. I do eventually stop orgasming though, thankfully.

Apple Bloom, for her part, stays between my legs long enough to clean me up with her mouth, give my swollen sex a little kiss, and then crawl back up into my arms and collapse.

I actually watch her fall asleep. On. Off. Deadass, like a light switch.

Awake. Gone.

“What,” I mumble, staring at Apple Bloom in patent disbelief, “the fuck was that?”

Whatever.

I curl up next to Apple Bloom and bury my face in her hair. I’ll figure it out in the morning, presumably before Applejack lynches me.

Whatever.

Worth it.

Chapter 3

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 4

There are certain days where events progress in such a way that really forces you to take a good look at your flaws and make you come to grips with the fact that not only are you not as good of a person as you hoped you were, you’re also not as smart as you wanted to believe.

That last part is, honestly, the most galling for me because I have a genius IQ, so reconciling that with the fact that I’m also kind of a dumbass is frustrating.

Look, it’s not my fault.

Pretty girls really bring out the stupid in me.

“Bloom, c’mon…” Written’s Quill I wish her lips didn’t taste so much like apple tarts.

The summer heat is beating down outside, and the shadows of the barn are dark and cool enough to provide some relief. Even despite my stance on waiting til after harvest, I still find myself fooling around with Apple Bloom here and there on our breaks. The way she smiles against my mouth while we kiss is intoxicating.

“Applejack ain’t gonna be back fer an hour,” Apple Bloom says slyly. “An’ besides… we’re on lunch.”

Lunch. Right. Something about the way her hands are gripping my hips and pulling me towards her while she leans against the barn wall with that ‘come-get-me’ smile tells me she’s not referring to the two turkey clubs and crisps I brought us.

“You’re the worst,” I say, laughing softly as I lean in and meet her lips again, wrapping my arms around her as I do.

She moans softly against my mouth as our tongues meet, and I pull against her. It’s a constant with us. Push and pull. Catch and release. She drags me towards her, only to smile and slip away, drawing me deeper and further forward until I’m hopelessly lost among apple trees.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Unlike Apple Bloom, I’ve been in a lot of relationships between high school and now and, if my currently being single isn't enough of a clue, none of them ended well. Some of them ended better than others, but…

I mentally shake those thoughts clear of my head as I pull back reluctantly, drawing out a grumble of displeasure from Apple Bloom.

“Okay, seriously,” I say with a chuckle, “we actually need to eat something, or we’re both going to die out there.” I jerk a thumb out towards the Orchard.

“Fine,” Bloom replies as she peels out from under me with a grumpy huff.

I roll my eyes and follow her. “Bloom, hey… you know I wasn’t—”

“Ah know,” Apple Bloom says over me as she drops down on a hay bale, flicks a few pieces of stray hay from her sandwich, then picks it up and takes a bite.

Another thing I quickly learned about Apple Bloom in the few days since we spent an entire day in bed in my apartment is that she’s very… passionate. Not just romantically, either. Unlike her sister, who’s a relatively temperate personality, Apple Bloom is quick to anger. In the same way, though, she’s quick to forgive and mellow out once she gets it out of her system.

I settle in beside her with my own plate and start in on my crisps, washing them down to sips of water. We eat in silence for a few minutes, and Apple Bloom works her way steadily through her lunch with almost military efficiency. She eats like someone who’s got something important to do, which is something she does share in common with her sister.

Busy-bodies, the lot of them.

Halfway through my own sandwich, I lower it and look over at Apple Bloom who’s staring silently down at her empty plate.

“Ah know,” she repeats, earning a raised eyebrow from me as she looks over. “Ya don’t gotta tell me, Ah know y’all said ‘wait til after harvest’ but… but Ah don’t wanna.”

I set the half-sandwich down with a quiet sigh.

“We’re supposed to be working, Bloom,” I say. “I promised AJ I’d help and I’m going to, but after that, we will talk to her, okay?”

“That could be weeks!” Apple Bloom turns to face me with narrowed eyes. “What if Ah don’t wanna wait weeks? That ain’t fair!”

“It’s not about what’s fair, it’s about what’s right!” I snap.

“Like y’all’d know anythin’ about that!”

I jerk back at the rancor in Apple Bloom’s voice, and she shifts back from me in the same moment, her eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Pain blossoms in my chest as her words settle in hard, and I’m forced to blink rapidly to keep the hurt from showing more physically.

“S-Sunset, Ah… Ah didn’t—”

Before she can finish her thought, I sweep her empty plate off of her lap, stand, and march out of the barn as fast as my feet can take me without resorting to the extra-humiliating act of literally running away. The afternoon sun hits me like a slap in the face, and I swallow hard as I try to keep the tears back.

Maybe it isn't classy, but I know if I stay around her right now we'll really get into a fight, and as much as I hate to admit it, I’m kind of a crybaby. I feel a lot of things, okay? It sucks and I hate it. So yeah, it’s kind of easy to make me cry. With that said, I have a few sore points that are like manual switches for ‘Emotional Bad Times’ and one of those is reminding me of what an absolute bitch I used to be.

Mainly because every time it happens I’m hard-pressed to reason out why I don’t deserve to feel like garbage all the time.

Depressive spirals are fun like that.

By the time I get to the porch of the farmhouse, I have my tears under control, and as I get into the kitchen to put away the dirty dishes, I feel satisfied that I’ve mostly avoided the worst of the spiral.

She didn’t mean it.

I know that.

Apple Bloom is a lot of things, but considerate of her words isn't one of them. Maybe it’s because she’s younger but I’m willing to bet it’s more just her personality. Rainbow Dash is the same way; she has been since we became friends and hasn’t changed at all—at least, that part of her hasn’t—and that comparison puts an ugly knot of anxiety in my gut.

The last thing anyone needs is a repeat of that relationship.

“Ain’t hungry?”

It’s all I can do not to lose my grip on the plate and drop it into the sink at the reedy voice that comes from behind me. Slowly, I set the plate down, turn the water off, and turn to face Granny Smith.

Matriarch of the Apple Clan and more robust and gnarled than even the oldest of her own apple trees, Granny Smith is surprisingly solid for a lady her age, and she claps a broad hand on my shoulder with knee-buckling strength as I force a smile.

“Too hot,” I say, tugging at the sweat-stained loose button-down I wore. “I don’t know how you all do it every year.”

“Practice,” Granny says, her lips tugging up in a small grin. “Mighty kind’a ya t’help Jackie out like this, by-the-by. ‘Specially since Ah ain’t as spry as Ah used t’be.”

I shrug as I grab a glass from the cupboard nearby and start filling it with water. “Pretty sure it’s a tradition by this point since I’ve been doing it for the past few years.”

“Reckon it is,” Granny admits.

I take a long drink of water and have to fight back the urge to guzzle it. It’s nice and cold and I hadn’t realised just how uncomfortably hot I’d gotten being outside all this morning.

“Mind if’n Ah ask ya something, Sunset?” Granny says as she settles into one of the well-worn dining table chairs across from the kitchen.

“Shoot.”

“Yer a bright girl,” she starts, “and Ah know yer going t’university, but ya never ran off on anythin’ big like Miss Rarity or Twilight, an’ Ah reckon it weren’t from lack’a options.”

The glass clinks as I lower it back to the counter and turn around, facing the stolid older woman squarely.

She has a point. Rarity took off for Prance a year out of graduation on an internship with L’Amore Industries, a high-end fashion company, and after that went on to Neighpon for an actual job. She calls often and sends gifts, but it’s been a long time since any of us have seen her.

As for Twilight, she dove deep into the implications of energy coefficients suggested by our use of magic, and ended up publishing over a dozen papers over the course of three years that got her a full-ride scholarship at Oxford.

She calls when she can, but… it’s been a while.

“I don’t really have big dreams anymore,” I say after a moment. “I’m… I’m happy where I am, that’s all.”

Friendship doesn’t end with distance. I know that just like I know all of my friends do. Just because we don’t have as much time for each other doesn’t mean our bond is gone. We all knew that once our lives started taking off, we’d start to drift away, but that didn’t mean we had to drift apart.

And I don’t think we have.

But it’s still hard not seeing the people I love.

“And also…” I start a little more cautiously, “maybe I just want to still be here when they get back, you know?”

Granny Smith smiles gently, then pats the table in invitation. I take a seat across from her with my glass of water and sip at it a little more slowly.

“Applejack’s the same way,” she says. “Bit of a homebody, if Ah’m bein’ honest.”

“No shame in doing what you love,” I say wryly, and Granny Smith laughs.

“Ain’t that the truth, but Ah do wish she’d get out a little, maybe meet someone.”

That was a thought.

Applejack and Rarity had dated in their last year of high school and for several months after. They only split when Rarity got the internship offer and was waffling over accepting it. It had been Applejack who convinced her to take it, even knowing there was no way she’d have time for a relationship, even a long-distance one, and it had been a pretty melancholy moment for all of us.

They had been so good together.

It’s been years now, and Applejack is the one I’ve stayed closest with. I still hang out with Rainbow, Pinkie, and Fluttershy, and we all try to get together now and again when we have time, but Applejack and I? We see each other once a week at least, if not more.

That’s how I know she’s never been in a relationship after Rarity, and I never asked her about it because I never really had to.

Under all of that strength, I know she’s still heartbroken.

“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I’m sure she will eventually.”

“An’ she could use the help,” Granny says pointedly, “especially since Ah ain’t gonna be around forever.”

“Hey, don’t say that!” I try to force a laugh, but that’s a grim prospect. Over these last few years, Granny Smith has become the grandmother I never had. “You are not allowed to die, and that’s that!”

“Y’all don’t get t’tell me what t’do, missy,” Granny remarks with a playful scolding. “And at any rate, Ah ain’t bringin’ this up idly… Ah got another question for ya, Sunset.”

“O...okay?” I say, wrong-footed at the suddenly strange atmosphere.

Granny Smith leans back in her chair, steepling calloused fingers under her lips, and for a moment I see the weight of age fall on her shoulders. Most of the time, she’s so boisterous and lively that it’s hard to believe she’s approaching eighty.

Now, though… now I see it, and I don’t like it one bit.

“Ah know which way Applejack’s barn door swings, fer lack of a better term,” Granny starts, “and Ah don’t care none, Ah just want’er t’be happy. Ah’m just worried she ain’t, and if she don’t meet a girl who knows what she needs and loves, Ah’m afraid she’ll stay that way.”

“I guess that’s fair,” I say slowly.

“And Ah also know how much she leans on ya, Sunset,” Granny continues, and as she does an odd feeling takes up in my stomach. “Ah know she trusts ya like she don’t trust many, so Ah just wanted y’all t’know if you’n mah granddaughter ever wanted to give something more a try, ya got mah support.”

“Oh.”

It’s times like this that I’m incredibly thankful to Princess Celestia for putting me through all of those classes on court etiquette since, really, they were just long-winded explanations on how to keep a straight face when someone with far more money than sense was speaking to you.

With that said, this is probably not what my adoptive mother imagined I’d be using my dissembling skills for as I fought to keep the screaming in my brain from showing on my face while I smiled and nodded at my best friend’s grandmother as she gave me her blessing to romantically pursue her eldest granddaughter as I was actively banging her younger one.

There is a very special place for me in Tartarus, I’m sure.

“I’ll bear that in mind,” I say through a glass smile. “Uhm, th-thanks, Granny.”

“Anytime, sugarcube.” She stands, pats my shoulder, and thankfully turns to leave.

Well, that was mortifying.

I realise that Granny Smith’s intentions are good, and if I weren’t in some kind of weird relationship with Apple Bloom I might’ve even considered it, but… no, even then there’s no way. Whether Granny Smith admits—or even knows—it, the truth is that there really isn’t room for anyone else in Applejack’s heart.

It still belongs to Rarity.

I down the rest of my water as I try to put that whole conversation out of my mind. I’m already in too deep with one daughter of Clan Apple, I don’t need Granny getting any ideas about me and AJ.

When I step back out onto the porch, and back into the sunlight, it’s to the sight of Apple Bloom fidgeting sheepishly at the foot of the stairs to her own home. She’s staring at the ground, her eyes fixed firmly on the bottom step of the porch stairs, and I have to bite back another sigh.

It’s times like this I remember that even though I’ve been in a bunch of relationships, Apple Bloom hasn’t. I can point to plenty of moments where I've said or… we’ll say passive-aggressively implied… something that I regretted seconds later.

Silently, I nod towards the orchard, and without waiting for her to acknowledge me I start walking. Apple Bloom has a fiery, dominant personality, but none of that changes the fact that she has next to no experience with something like this which means it’s my job to be the… the responsible one.

Written’s Quill, is that a mistake.

Bloom falls in behind me and I spend the quiet walk mulling over what I’m going to do. I want to try to make this work with Apple Bloom, I already decided that a while ago, but how it’s going to work is the problem. She's impatient, and she’s liable to make mistakes when she gets riled up. Whether or not I think she should learn patience is immaterial. The practical of it is that if I keep pushing her away, she’s just going to keep pushing back. It’s in her nature.

Which means I have to give a little.

That’s fair.

I stop in the middle of the latest section of orchard we’re supposed to be working in. It’s about half-done between us, and despite the pair of us occasionally getting 'distracted', we’re actually ahead of schedule.

“Bloom,” I start, looking over my shoulder at her.

If looks could stop wars, the expression of remorse on Apple Bloom’s face would’ve brought instant world peace.

“Ah’m sorry,” she says before I can say anything else, and her voice is thick with tears. “Ah… Ah didn’t mean it, Ah just g-got mad, and…”

I shake my head as I turn to face her, then reach out and cradle her face in my hands.

“I know,” I say. “You’re not the first person to say something harsh, and you won’t be the last. Besides, I’m pretty sure I’ve said worse, so I forgive you.”

The tension goes slack from Apple Bloom as she nods. Guilt is a powerful thing, though, especially among the Apples who tend to take wronging someone they care about, even on accident, as a sign of failed character. So I step in, put my arms around her, and pull Apple Bloom close, burying my face against her hair as she nestles into the crook of my shoulder.

“Ah'm so sorry, Sunset,” Apple Bloom sobs.

“Yeah, me too,” I say softly. “I know it’s frustrating, and I… I haven’t been very good about this, but I want this to work, okay? I promise.”

She nods silently against my chest and hugs me a little tighter.

“Ah love you.”

I sigh and nod back. I know she does. Or at least, I know she feels like she does. I don’t have the right to tell her what she does and doesn’t feel, but time will tell and who knows… maybe it will tell her she’s right.

“So, I was thinking,” I say as I draw back a little, “since we don’t work on Sunday, maybe Saturday night we go out to dinner?”

Apple Bloom’s eyes go wide as saucers as she looks up at me. I have to give her something. She was right about one thing, this hasn’t been fair on her. She doesn’t deserve to have her first real relationship be treated like a dirty secret.

She deserves a little romance.

“What do you say?”

Sniffling, Apple Bloom wipes at her eyes, then nods almost frantically.

“Y-Yeah, uh, that sounds real nice, actually,” she says wetly. “Ah’d really like that.”

I make a quick glance of the orchard, briefly connecting to the world around me to make sure we’re alone before pulling back my senses and dipping down to catch Apple Bloom’s lips on mine. It’s a warm, almost-desperate kiss. One that’s full of apology from her, and it’s times like this I’m reminded of that old adage.

The best part about fights is making up.

Author's Note

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