Summer. Hot, sweaty, sinful summer.

Already a burden to many with its damming heat and blistering long days, across the white salt flats of Utah it was less a natural progression of the seasons and more a natural disaster to any living creature that tried to survive it.

And for miles, miles and miles of only salt and sky, connected only by the rusted tin edge of far away mountains, so far that if you tried to pinch them your fingers would touch; that upon this great wide plain of pain, was Thea Sullivan, once more on a magical quest she was severely reconsidering.

Thankfully, the last dredges of the day slowly sank lower and lower under the horizon, sapping most of the heat from the day with it. With the rhythmic clip, clop, clip, clop, hours of Shimmer between her thighs, and the dead sounds of wind spitting grains of salt into her face, Thea was tired. No, more than tired, she was exhausted, expended, lower than dead on her feet if possible. Not to mention the saddle was really starting to do a number on her hips and back.

Oh but merciful, sweet Sunset, who had never before been called that without the slurry of alcohol or from the pitiful lips on the other end of her barrel, found it decent enough time to settle down and camp for the night.

So with a pat to Shimmers withers and a murmur of ‘good girl, go on steady on now.’ Sunset looked over her shoulder at her extra cargo. “We’ll stop here for the night. Good as any place with all the salt.”

“Oh thank god.” Thea groaned out, much louder than she intended, though being less than a feet away from Sunset meant she couldn’t really escape her.

Sunset dismounted first, spurs cracking against her boots and the ground like broken jaws hitting bar tops, before holding out a hand for Thea to take like second nature, and helping her down.

With an ill-practiced ease that left no room for either side to muse over how the crusted rind of Sunset’s calloused hands slotted perfectly around Thea’s waist, they quickly separated from one another and set about unloading their camping gear.

With a great big heave, Sunset pulled a beige canvas from Shimmer's panniers, holding both corners in opposite hands as she fluffed it further and further up, like trying to make a bed, until it slowly drifted down, fully free from the saddle bags, and settled. Not into a flat sheet against the ground, but instead a fully arched tent, ready to be used.

Sunset clapped her hands clean of any lingering dust. Moving to unclip their bedrolls from the packs still on Shimmer’s saddle bags, she snuck a glace out the corner of her eye to see what Thea had taken up doing.

Sat back on her legs, Thea finished putting the last stones around the soon to be fire pit, before grabbing the Ever-Flame sigil engraved in a fat, stout stone and tossing it into the stone ring.

At the peak of its arch, the stone immediately caught on fire in a blaze of blue flames and sank directly into the dead center of the fire pit.

With that settled, Thea turned to her small leather-bound journal and began writing. A letter for her little brother no doubt.

The dying, red evening sun sat fat and stark against the skyline, like a starling perched on chicken wire. The algae muddled blue-green horizon shone down on the bramle-black’s of Twilight’s coat.

Her smile took the same curve as a woodpecker's wings trying to fly away from a falling tree. It escaped her. Running wild without abandon on who saw. The only kind of smile that family could bring to Thea’s face.

Sunset looked away, feeling like she was intruding on a private moment.

Carrying both bedrolls under each arm, she walked back to the tent, ears hot in self-shaming embarrassment, and quickly set about unrolling the canvas tarps that held their sheepskin blankets and paper-thin pillows.

While trying to fluff up a pillow bigger than its typical fingernail thickness, Sunset heard a quiet murmur reach her ears. Then it grew to a whisper, then a mutter, until Sunset could hear Thea’s voice pop in and out with the tent flap opening in the wind.
Really she didn’t mean to listen in, it just sorta happened naturally. Even when she tried to ignore what was being said her brain couldn’t, wouldn’t stop hearing it.

“Dear Simon,” Thea’s dulcet tone scratched like her loopy, flowing cursive in Sunset’s shameful ear. “I hope everything back home in Ponyville is going well. Has Pinkie or Wígmuŋke tried to rope the others into one of their pranks yet?” Thea giggled girlishly, quick and proper, yet informal enough for comfort. “The trip so far has been fun! We’re currently camping out in Boonville’s Salt Flats— and yes, don’t worry, I’ve saved you several samples to try.”

Sunset couldn’t help but let the ghost of a smile tug on her lips. Simon was a good kid, bright like his sister and kind to a fault.

Though she hadn’t seen him for longer than ten, fifteen minutes, when he tried to intimidate her, in all his four foot glory, to not take his sister away, she could see a bond between them that she had more than a little amount of shame in admitting she was jealous of.

Sunset’s ear perked up, hearing the shifting and sorting of papers and a sudden crack of wind blowing the tent flap back up.

“—but oh man, let me tell you, the weather out here is no joke. It’s somehow both too hot and too cold at the same time, even during the day time. At least if it was cold I could bundle up, with the heat I can only take off so many layers.”

Thea groaned, making Sunset chuckle quietly to herself, as she lost any and all remaining focus in her work and listened solely to Thea’s ramblings.

“We’re about three days out from our next stop; a sleepy hamlet said to rest just outside the salt flats. We plan to see if there’s been any sightings of Adagio and go from there.” The scratching of Thea’s pen grew tense and solemn. Sunset wished that she hadn’t caused that.

“Well, it’s getting late and I don’t want to keep you up past your curfew, I’ll be asking AJ if you’ve been following that so no funny business, mister. I love you Simon, and hope to be home soon.”

Then as quick as blowing out a candle, Thea reached down and pulled a Dragon’s Breath match from its dilapidated-colored box, then with a quick stamp to send it to her brother, Thea lit a match and sent it away in a haze of green-tinted fire.

Sunset watched the letter fizzle away into ashless smoke, hidden in the tents flaps. How long had it been since she had last seen someone do that? How long had it been since she had last sent a letter through stamp and flame? Years, if not a decade.

And even if that damned woman somehow had her stamp, would she even bother to read what she had to say? No. No, definitely not.

Sunset swallowed down a torrent of steam that threatened to escape from her like a tea kettle whistling on the stove before exploding. Storming out the tent she caught Thea off guard causing her to eek out a squeak of surprise as Sunset suddenly plopped down next to her, pulling out her knife and a random stick.

The growing night was still in all the wrong ways; no trees crashing their leaves into each other, no cicadas sawing their mournful blues in the grass, or neighborhood dogs barking like an unoiled hinge constantly squealing in the wind. At the mercy of the salt flats Thea knew boredom would soon set in.

Shrugging off her coat, to ease off some of that sticky-hot-cold heat, she let it pool around her in an inky black pool against the grey-blue salt.

“Soooooo,” Thea drawled out awkwardly beside Sunset as she whittled away at a stick. “Did you see any traces of the sirens while riding?”

The glittering blade of Sunset’s pocket knife flew across the stick like skipping a stone over water. She didn’t even bother to look up at Thea when she replied bluntly, “did I say anything to you about it?”

“Well, no-“ Thea began.

“Then no.” Sunset cut her off.

An even awkwarder silence settled over Thea, like an uncomfortably stiffy and heavy hand squeezing her shoulders.

“W-well,” she anxiously patted her clammy hands against her pants to dry them. It didn’t work. Clearing her throat she tried again, “well, do you want to send a letter to someone?” Thea raised up the Dragon’s Breath match box and rattled them, unknowingly emphasizing how empty and well-used it sounded. “If you got their stamp we can-“

“No.” Sunset huffed out, shucking another curl of wood shaving into the fire for emphasis.

“Oh. Okay.” Thea murmured, barely a whisper against the crackle of the fire.

Stuffing the matches away hurriedly in her pockets, no longer having something to fiddle with or start a conversation over, she looked everywhere around for something, anything, for them to talk about.

“Do you… wanna play I spy?” Thea sheepishly grinned, tentatively trying a play out of Pinkie’s book. “I’ll make it worth your salt!” Oh god, someone take her now.

Sunset, finally looked up from her now practically needle thin of a stick, giving Thea a look. “It's salt.” She returned back to the whittled stick. “Or Shimmer. But probably the salt.”

Thea was sweating bullets. Of course it was the salt. Everything around them was salt! Oh god Sunset probably thinks she’s stupid now, or really unfunny. She’s probably thinking of ways to get rid of her now. She needs to turn this around now and fast.

“HAHA.” Thea uncomfortably laughed, straining a smile that she typically reserved for lengthy conversations she couldn’t escape from under the plight of good-southern-hospitality. “Welp!” She slapped her knees and gave a very fake and exaggerated yawn and stretch that nobody would believe. “Guess I’ll head to bed then! Night partner!”

Thea shot Sunset finger guns and immediately regretted everything. The nickname. The finger guns. This trip. Her entire existence. Could this get any worse?

Sunset grunted in acknowledgement, only noting out the corner of her eye that Thea had entered the tent. Not that she had tuned out what Thea had been saying, but had figured it would be better for the both of them if she didn’t acknowledge what was happening. Celestia knows she would have made the situation even worse.

Once the tent flap had snapped shut behind Thea, Sunset finally set down her now freshly whittled toothpick, and turned around fully to make sure that Thea wouldn’t be coming back out.

Waiting for a few seconds that stretched into a warm minute, with only the ashy-spits from the fire and quiet huffs from Shimmer keeping her company, Sunset let out a sigh of relief, rolling her neck around her shoulders to pop it.

Thus Sunset was left alone, with only herself, the fire, and Shimmer. And the coat.

In all her time knowing of Thea Sullivan, which, granted, wasn’t very long at all, Sunset had barely ever seen her without her signature coat.

A right-breasted dark blueish-green color wool coat, staunchly made for practically rather than fashion.

If Sunset remembered right, which she always did, then the coat was a gift from Thea’s mother before moving to Ponyville. Something to remind her daughter during those cold, Nebraskian nights, that someone will always be there to keep her warm.

Sunset looked left— Salt— then right— more salt— then back down to the coat. Well… she supposed if she kept it quick then it wouldn’t be a problem just to glance at it. See what she could do magically, if anything.

Deciding to hedge her bets she shyly grabbed a corner and brought the coat to her lap, looking under the lapels and under the sleeves.

It was a good sturdy coat, well-made and well-loved, but clearly not designed to handle the desert's hot days and frigid nights. Easily fixable with a temperature controlled spell sigil, see, she could even stitch it in just underneath the tag on the neck.

Sunset hemmed and hawed, feeling the material, looking at hem lines, considering what spell would be best suited for Thea. And before she knew it, Sunset was searching her bag for her travel packet of sewing needles and thread, already envisioning the spell within her mind.

The first cringe of morning bloomed over the distant mountains, as long lengthy shadows try and claw from any corners they can across the white salty landscape.

Its a quiet morning, no trees shudder awake, no grass billowing in the wind. The only freckle of life across the bleached plains was a brown patchwork camp, still sizzling with the embers of last night’s cold front.

Thea Sullivan, ever the early bird and life’s over-achiever, slowly roused awake, blinking away the groggy tears collected around her eyes. Sitting up with a yawn and stretch, she blinked the stars from her vision as the crack of sunlight beamed through the opening in the tent.

Wait, sunlight? Wasn’t she meant to take second watch?

Immediately jolting fully awake, Thea scrambled to escape the confines of her bed roll, tripping slightly on the canvas covers as she rushed outside, apologies already falling from her lips.

Yet before she could string together a coherent sentence all thoughts, words, anything to do with her brain, screeched to a halt.

Because there, sitting with her back mostly towards Thea, showing the curve from the tip of her nose to the curl of the boots, was Sunset, sewing pins poking out of her mouth like an unlit cigarette with a furrow in her brow and her coat in her hands.

What.

Why did Sunset have her coat? Why was she sewing something into it? When and how did she even get it?

All this a million other things raced through Thea’s head as she stood shock-still watching this maybe-dream unfold in front of her.

But taking a few moments to process, all other thoughts were immediately derailed for the glaringly obvious fact, a fact she had definitely never considered late at night within the confines of her bed roll with Sunset snoring less than a foot away from her, that Sunset was topless.

Clad in her corn starch stiff jeans and dark olive leather chaps, and only, in her jeans and chaps. Her hat was pushed back from her sweat slicked forehead, resting on the tops of her shoulders and neck, held up only by the chin strap digging into Sunset’s jaw.

Thea didn’t know how to think suddenly. Focused solely on watching a rivulet of sweat glide over thick bunches of tanned freckled muscles.

Inch by inch, her body glowed against the rising sun, like the unveiling of a marble statue. Jeans hugged muscular thighs, the curve of hip bone peaking out over the lip of her leather belt. The v-cut shoulder blades cut down glass-sharp waist, slick with sweat and oil, Thea could already imagine reaching out and grabbing-

Thea snapped out of it and quickly looked away, blushing from the tips of her ears to her collarbones.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” Sunset heard a rustling and sneaking a peek between her fingers, and saw Sunset lean back to look at her. A charming, if tired, grin on her face.

And with a betraying flick of her eyes, Thea looked down and let her eyes roam and devour the sight of the jagged pink scars and the rounded edges of Sunset’s pecs, before slowly drifting lower to sink her gaze into the view of those soft, yet rigid abs and-

Thea quickly looked away, somehow blushing even fiercer. Damn those romance books she got from Rarity! With their stupidly provocative covers, and their stupidly attractive characters, and their even stupider ideas that she really doesn’t need in her head right now!

…She wonders if she could find a book with a character that looks like Sunset- No! Focus God damnit!

Thea didn’t know what to think. Which is quite the issue when your whole thing is being ‘the smart one’ of the group. She didn’t know what to say or how to say it, should she even say something at all?

She didn’t even know what to do with her hands for goodness sake! She doesn’t think she could fight the sirens with her hands glued to her forehead. Could she? Could she?

Briefly considering the paradox of fighting a 30-foot magical beast with her hands stuck to her head, Thea’s stream of thought was quickly interrupted by the sound of deep throaty laughter.

It was a blink-and-you-miss-it moment. Something so sharp and quick that trying to replay the details in your mind only muddled it further. Like the cocking of a revolver in a silent saloon, or a street dog barking in the middle of the night, or even the sound of a dart hitting a bullseye with no one to cheer.

Sunset was laughing. Had laughed. At her. With her? A laugh was a laugh and a win is a win. She should write down everything about it to tell Pinkie about it later. Yes. For Pinkie. And research. Exactly.

Taking the pins from her mouth to take a drag of breath, Sunset spoke, not even looking up from her stitching. “If you’re done hiding behind your hands, I’ve made breakfast.”

She held out her smoking arm with pins perched between her fingers like an unlit cigarette towards the slowly dwindling fire.

Somehow drawing her eyes away from the much more delicious sight of a shirtless Sunset, Thea looked over to the still blazing ever-flame and immediately felt her stomach growl.

Thick slabs of bacon fat drool in its cast iron suit, while dark orange yolks ooze its guts like a garish tie on egg-white dress shirt with crushed bits of salt dusting the browning edges.

Sun dried tomatoes nipped around the edges, crisply burning around the creases and folds, making them sweat obscenely as salt ate its acidity, oil pooling underneath.

Then, within the black-belly of another cast iron, was the still sizzling, buttery pockets across its golden brown crust, was only broken up by the fragrant pops of verdant green jalapeños, sunk down into the golden layers like a deep button freshly sewn into a velvet chair.

And through the still steaming mirage of breakfast that even breakfast thought was only a myth, Thea watched as Sunset slid the last pin into place with the precision of a surgeon making their first slice.

Setting Thea’s coat in her lap, Sunset moved to grab the discarded eggshells resting beside the fire and, taking and opening a worn looking coffee kettle in the other hand, with a single meaty grip crushed the eggshells into a rough handful of white flakes, before tipping her hand and pouring the crushed shells into the slowly darkening kettle.

“Eggshells help the grounds sink to the bottom when you don’t gotta filter,” Sunset shared, knowing that Thea would ask. “But the real key to good cowboy coffee is salt.” Sunset flourished with a fat sprinkle of salt in the now boiling red-hot tin. “Makes it nice and smooth.”

Thea, for all her morning brain could comprehend, was still stuck on the image of the veins in Sunset’s hands flexing in time with her rope-thick forearms.

Pouring the lacquered liquid into a tin cup, Sunset passed it and a small plate loaded with breakfast goodness to Thea, who took it on instinct.

Still stuck in her stalled position, breakfast balanced in her lap, Thea watched as Sunset retook her post, as if this was completely normal and not at all some sort of magical mirage that had clearly overtaken Thea’s brain. Had she ruled out being possessed by the sirens yet?

Stuck in thought, Thea mechanically took a spoonful of egg and cornbread crumbs, steam oozing out in ribbons from underneath its porous crumb before she took a bite.

It wasn’t the food of the heavens or even magical in nature, but fuck, after two weeks of jerky and hardtack biscuits it may as well have been cooked directly in God’s mouth for all Thea thought. Definitely something she could see eating in a homey, family diner someplace.

“Where’d you learn to cook,” Thea asked, her mouth stuffed with breakfast goodness as she ate with at a speed even AJ and Wígmuŋke would pause at.

Sunset shrugged, returning back to her sewing. “Something I just picked up on the road. Like mending,” she lifted the coat for emphasis. “I can’t do anything fancy like your friend Rarity, but I can patch a hole to keep out the cold.”

Thea nodded while chewing, noting in the mental folder labeled ‘things about Sunset’ in her mind that being sleepy made Sunset more chatty.

“Where’s your portion?” Thea pulled the spoon from her mouth to point at Sunset with it.

“Already ate,” Sunset lied, biting her lip in concentration and clearly resisting the urge to curb her thumb un thought. “Forgot about dinner last night, so it's only fair I made breakfast.” She jutted her chin out to the bacon fat slick cast iron still perched on the fire.

Thea hummed in thought, still savoring the flavors instead of her typical rushing to speak.

“You’ve been on the road a lot huh?”

Sunset grunted in affirmation, taking out the needles one by one.

“Did Celestia take you traveling or…” Thea stopped, watching the way Sunset’s hair sparkled at the curled tips, and wisely knew she shouldn’t push her luck any further.

‘Being tired also makes her prone to becoming grumpy. Noted.’ Thea hastily crammed into her mind palace’s file on Sunset.

Then, mid bite, a sudden heavy twump suddenly descends and covers her, immediately blotting out any light. With an indignant ‘hey!’ Thea squirmed, trying to keep her tray and cup from spilling whilst attempting to escape the confines of her coat.

Then without warning, she heard it once more. That head chestful laughter, the kind that takes every space in your lungs to push out. It boomed, echoed across the white salty plains, spilling freely from Sunset’s mouth for what sounded like the first time in years.

Thea looked up from underneath the warm hooded rumpled of her coat, dazed and amazed at the gentle warmth that radiated, not magically from her coat, but from the deep crested laughter that barked from the depths of Sunset’s chest.

But her eyes. Her eyes were haunted by the so-called American dream; oil baron black with a lighting dash of cardinal vermillion lassoed around the ever gleaming ember of her pupils.

They set sparks across her face, highlighting the thin, unused crinkle of crows feet and smile-lines. That inner desire of useless flame that begged for relief. If possible, Thea would have cupped that flame barehanded if it meant she could listen to that laugh forever.

“The charm I put in your coat,” Sunset cleared her throat, giving a brief nod to Thea as she continued, “It’ll keep you warm at night and cool during her day.”

Thea didn’t know what to say. Thank you probably. This was clearly an olive branch of some sort of friendship, the very thing she had been trying so desperately to ease into Sunset’s mind like trying to give a dog medicine within a spoonful of peanut butter.

But now? With it plain-face in front of her? She didn’t know what to do. Sunset had that habit of bringing it out of her.

“I’ll tear down camp if you’ll get the fire and the dishes.” Sunset grunted standing up, wandering over to the tent without letting Thea get a word in edgewise.

Hurriedly pulling her coat on, Thea stumbled back on her feet, watching as Sunset confidently strode, in her sleepless state over to their tent to take it down for the trip ahead. With her back turned to her, Thea took her still fist clenched coats in her hand, lightly tracing the fresh mismatched stitches sewn into her collar with her eyes, and took a quick sniff.

The first thing that hit her was a sharp tang of sweat that had yet to be cleaned out, accompanied by the even sharper smell of smoke not heavily imbued within the fabric.

But underneath all that, hidden in the pulse point of the collar, was the briefest hint of cedar and citrus. The smells of summer. Just like Sunset.

Author's Note

Again, please follow the creator of this au Bixels and Tulliok over on tumblr!