Apple Branches

Chapters

Apple Slices
Caramel Covered Apple
Striped Apple
Desert Apple
Cooking Apples
Bitter Apple
Winter Apples
Sweetened Apples
Powder Blue Wings
Pegasus Feathers
Spreading Branches
Cloudy Nights
Caramel Covered Apples

Apple Slices

Big Macintosh leaned against the gate to Sweet Apple Acres, scratching his flank with the posts as he waited.

Caramel was late.

This wasn’t much of a surprise. The earth pony had shown up every day to help with the harvest of the latest apple crop, and every day he’d dragged himself to the house with a different tale of woe. It had gotten to the point where Big Mac had stumbled across some of the hired help taking bets on what had gone wrong for him that day.

A slow stare from the biggest pony in Ponyville had set them back to work, but Big Macintosh reckoned they had a point. Poor Caramel was the unluckiest pony in the town, and probably all of Equestria.

Even so, for Caramel to be late today was, if not precisely a surprise, at least disappointing. Despite how exuberant he’d been at the prospect of going out on the town with Big Macintosh, Caramel was still at heart a klutz.

The interesting thing about him, though, was that no matter how frequent the disaster, or how outrageous the claim, what he said happened was exactly what had happened.

Parasprites ate all the food he was delivering? They were still perched on the tables, munching away.

A piano fell on him? Derpy Hooves was out making deliveries and forgot to latch the back of the cart.

On reflection, wondered Big Mac, perhaps he should have thought twice about agreeing to this little get-together.

Just then, the tan earth pony crested over the hill and wearily trotted up to meet his friend.

“Evenin’, Caramel.”

“Hey, Big Macintosh. Sorry to be late, but the brakes on my cart gave out and I had to chase it all over Ponyville before I caught it.”

The red stallion nodded and took a few steps forward, the smaller pony dropping into place next to him as they went.

“So, where do you want to go?”

Big Macintosh glanced down at his companion and shrugged. “Ah hadn’t any place in mind, Caramel. D’you?”

Caramel scratched his chin with a hoof. “Well, we could try that little café in Ponyville, then if you wanted dessert, there’s always Sugar Cube Corner... if that’s okay with you, I mean.”

“Eyyyup.”

With that, the two trotted off in companionable silence.

Several hours and no disasters later, Big Macintosh left Caramel at the door to his home, along with a good-natured “this way Ah know you make it there safe”. The brown colt blushed, but took the jibe with a smile and rueful chuckle. Big Mac sauntered home at his own pace, looking up at the stars as he went.

They sparkled crisply in the sky, the moon lighting up the clouds with a silent elegance that he always tried to appreciate, though the lack of the Mare in the Moon was still a little off-putting - she had been there every night of his life, but now that Princess Luna was free, the moon was an almost unmarked sphere. It was still beautiful, but after so many years the change was unsettling, though he found himself slowly getting used to it.

The only times he couldn’t appreciate the night sky were during the harvest, much like the one just past.

A harvest that Caramel had been surprisingly helpful for, despite his usual awkward clumsiness. Applejack had been right; Caramel was no applebucker, but he was an excellent runner... once he knew where everypony and everything on the farm was located. Granny Smith’s gentle suggestion of a map had made things a lot easier for the newcomer.

Big Macintosh narrowed his eyes as a thought struck him. Caramel had volunteered to help - and now the biggest pony of the Apple family knew why - but he’d insisted on paying him a few bits for the help.

Bits that Caramel had probably just used to buy their meal, over the red pony’s complaints.

“I wanted to ask you out, right? Then I’m paying.” Caramel, despite the stallion’s best effort, couldn’t be swayed. That same stubbornness put Big Mac in mind of his sister, now that he thought about it. When push came to shove, there was nothing short of a direct order from Princess Celestia or Luna that would sway either of them.

Maybe not even then.

Big Macintosh turned down the lane that lead to Sweet Apple Acres, plucking a strand of hay as he went. Out of deference to the occasion, he’d gone without, though he wasn’t sure if Caramel had noticed the gesture.

“And jus’ where have you been, Macintosh?”

The red pony folded his ears back. Whenever Applejack used just his given name, he knew he was in for it. “Ah told you, Ah was goin’ out tonight,” he replied mildly.

His attempt to placate his younger sister failed badly. “Goin’ out?! Goin’ out?! Macintosh, it’s nigh t’ midnight! Just what were y’ doin’ out thar?”

Big Macintosh flicked his grass stem to the other side of his mouth. “Ah was out on a date, sis. An’ Ah don’t see how it’s any of your business.” He moved to step toward the house, but his sister planted herself firmly in his way, blocking him.

“A date? Macintosh, th’ farm’s too busy fer ya to go off an’ find some filly to frolic with!”

Her larger brother grunted. “Jacks,” he began - if his sister was going to use his “trouble” name, he’d use hers - “Ah’ve worked this farm for longer’n you. T’ ain’t gonna hurt if’n Ah take one night off once in a while. You’ve gone a’ harin’ off with Twilight an’ the others more’n once, so Ah don’t think you’ve got four legs t’ stand on.”

Applejack narrowed her eyes at him, but grudgingly let him slip past her into the house. As he stepped up onto the porch, he couldn’t help but add one last touch. “Oh, and t’ weren’t no filly Ah was seein’ either.”

Applejack’s jaw dropped. “What th’ hay?! Big Macintosh, are you sayin’ you were out whoopin’ it up with a colt?!”

“Eyyyup.” Smirking to himself, Big Macintosh sauntered up to his loft.

Far too early, even for a farmpony, his door was slammed open. “Awright, Macintosh,” demanded his sister, her eyes full of ire, “start talkin’.”

Grumbling, the red stallion covered his eyes with a hoof. “Jacks, it’s too durn early for this...”

“Too early, m’ fetlocks! Jus’ what were y’ up to last night?”

Big Mac eyed his sister wearily. Even for him, this was a bit more than he could take. “Ah went out with Caramel, we had supper at a nice lil’ place, an’ then we talked. You happy now?” he finished testily.

His sister stood there, mouth agape even wider than before. “Y’ weren’t kiddin’ about seein’ a colt? And why, of all th’ ponies in Equestria, Caramel?”

The stallion pulled himself to his hooves, bits of hay from his pillows floating in the air. With practiced ease, he caught one stem between his teeth as it fell. “Ah weren’t kiddin’, Applejack. As for why Caramel, he expressed his interest clear ‘nough, and Ah figured where was t’ harm?”

The orange pony’s expression darkened. “‘Expressed his interest’, did he? What’d he do, Macintosh? Grab yer withers? Kiss yer nose? Lick y’ on the-”

“JACKS!” bellowed her brother, “T’ ain’t anythin’ like that. An’ even if it was - which t’ ain’t - Ah wouldn’t think it t’ be anything you needed t’ know about. Caramel said he had some interest, and Ah thought t’ might be nice t’ have a bit o’ ‘me’ time.”

The two siblings glowered at each other, the strained silence broken by Granny Smith’s quavering voice asking if everything was all right, and my goodness it was early, what was causing all the ruckus?

“All right, Big Macintosh. Ain’t nothin’ I can do t’ stop ya, so I’ll let it lie f’r now.”

“Durn right y’ can’t stop me, sis,” answered her brother, his mind shifting back to its more familiar placidity. “But if’n you keep this sort of thing up, Ah might move in with Caramel.”

For the second time in a very short morning, the orange pony was shocked. “Y’ wouldn’t!”

“Ah might.”

“But - Sweet Apple Acres! Y’ worked th’ farm all yer life! What d’-”

Big Mac cut her off, rolling his shoulders to work the kinks out of the muscles. “Ah might start m’ own orchard. ‘Caramel Apple Acres’ has a ring t’ it, don’t you think?”

Leaving his sister to splutter incoherently, Big Macintosh set about his chores for the day. For once, his sister didn’t say a word to him, just glowered every time she set eyes on him.

The red earth pony sighed mentally after the fifth such non-exchange. He was, however, grateful that harvest was over. Caramel’s presence was thankfully no longer needed at the orchard, or else Applejack might have gone out of her way to make him uncomfortable.

He also contented himself with the possibility of seeing Caramel later; if not that night, than in the next few days.

Work went as usual, if a bit slower without his sister’s aid, but Big Macintosh was used to making do without her. At the least, her sudden absences to go on adventures had prepared him for the extra work.

“Big Macintosh?” quavered a small voice. Big Mac sighed internally again - he knew that voice. Even worse, he knew the pony only used that tone when she was mortally worried.

“Yes, Apple Bloom?” he asked without turning around.

“I heard you and Applejack arguing... you’re not leaving th’ farm, are you?”

Bracing himself, the red stallion turned, facing his biggest challenge yet: Apple Bloom’s weapons-grade cuteness.

Large, pleading eyes, a pouting, outthrust lip, and the faintest hint of tears beginning to form...

This time, Big Mac sighed out loud. “Ah ain’t plannin’ t’ leave, Ah swear. Your sister and Ah were jus’ havin’ a bit of a disagreement, is all.”

“You’re really not goin’ to leave...?”

Big Macintosh covered his face with a hoof. He loved his sisters, he really did. At times like this, though, running off with somepony did seem like the best of all ideas. “Apple Bloom, as much as Ah like Caramel, Ah ain’t plannin’ t’ go anywhere else for a long, long time.”

All expression dropped off his sister’s face. “Y’ like Caramel?”

Her much taller sibling gazed down at her calmly. “There a problem with that, Bloom?”

She pulled a face at both the question and the diminutive nickname. “But Big Macintosh, colts have cooties!”

“Well, Bloom,” he answered, unable to help himself from smiling, “T’ ain’t somethin’ you mind when y’ get older. And if’n you’ve forgotten, Ah’m a colt too.”

Apple Bloom sniffed disdainfully. “That’s different. You’re my brother,” she continued as though the answer were readily apparent. “Everypony knows that makes a difference.”

“Ah’ll take your word for it,” Big Mac replied. “And Ah need t’ get back to m’chores, Apple Bloom. Weren’t you supposed t’ be meeting your friends today?”

The filly rolled her eyes. “We were, but then Sweetie Belle decided to help Rarity with her dresses, an’ Scootaloo wanted t’ chase down Rainbow Dash for flyin’ lessons, so now there’s nothin’ fer me t’ do!”

Big Macintosh nodded to himself as he hauled a cart back to the barn for storage. “Well, Ah’m sure y’ could talk some sense into your sister, tell her Ah’m not goin’ t’ leave. She ain’t said a word t’ me all day.”

“Why not?”

Big Mac chewed his hay. “Ah know y’ heard us fightin’ earlier. Your big sister took my words more t’ heart than Ah meant. Now, Ah know she knows Ah’m not goin’ anywhere, but she’s too stubborn t’ admit it, even t’ herself.”

Apple Bloom’s eyes narrowed, and the red stallion wondered if he’d made a mistake. His littlest sister had a lot in common with her big sister - namely, an elemental unwillingness to deviate from whatever path her hooves were currently planted on, metaphorically or literally. Normally, it wasn’t a problem, aside from the havoc she and the other Cutie Mark Crusaders caused, but this time Mac wondered if he might have just set up his own downfall.

“Right, big brother. I’ll see you around,” she spoke, eyes focused. Big Mac gulped.

His fears were proven right when he caught a glimpse of Applejack in the back of the barn as he brought the third wagon in for storage. Unfortunately, with it hitched to him, he had no choice but to brave her presence, as he couldn’t simply untie himself and make a run for it without a loss of face that Applejack would never let him forget.

The withering glare she was giving him certainly didn’t give him any reassurance, but neither pony was prepared for the door slamming behind him, or the sound of the bar dropping down and locking them in.

Applejack caught on first. “Apple Bloom! Y’ open th’ door right now!”

Her only answer was a disdainful sniff.

“Come on, Apple Bloom, Ah’ve chores t’ do,” Big Macintosh tried next, after undoing the ties that bound the cart to him. His youngest sister unbent enough to answer, though it was only a short sentence.

“Y’ both work it out.”

Applejack turned her formidable gaze on her brother, and he backed into the wall nervously. As large and tough as he was, his only weaknesses were his sisters - and Caramel, his mind slipped in before he could squash the thought - as he was never able to find a way to properly argue with them. Fighting, that was different, just a lot of yelling and screaming, with the occasional hoof-stamping for emphasis, but an argument, with an exchange of viewpoints? That was something he never managed to pull off.

It certainly didn’t help that Applejack downright terrified him when she got a burr under her mane about something.

“I ain’t apologizin’!” bellowed Applejack, and Big Mac let out a groan. It was going to be one of those days.

The pair spent at least a half-hour trapped together in silence, the sun’s gradual descent cutting longer and longer shadows through the windows.

Big Macintosh had had enough. “If’n you say you’re not goin’ to apologize, Ah’d say from the sound of it, you know you ought t’ do so.”

Applejack glowered at him.

“Ah’ll just be over here, then,” he backed off.

The stallion “entertained” himself by running inventory on the tools and what would need repairs and replacing. It wasn’t quite what he had planned, but it did need to be done.

His sister was still sulking in the corner; there was no other word for it. “Ah don’t see why you’re so upset,” he tried again timidly. “Ah’m not takin’ any time away from Sweet Apple Acres that Ah can’t spare.”

Still nothing. He decided to change tactics a little. “Or are y’ upset that Ah might not be there t’ pick up your slack next time you’re out with Rainbow Dash?”

Applejack stomped a hoof. “Y’ leave her out o’ this, Big Macintosh!”

Well, at least she was talking again.

“Ah don’t know, sis, it looks a lot like that t’ me. A pony can’t help but wonder.”

The orange filly lowered her head, brows furrowed angrily. “T’ ain’t the same thing at all, Macintosh!”

“Eyyyup.”

Applejack paused, mid glare. “Eyyyup t’ is, or eyyyup t’ ain’t?”

“Eyyyup t’ is, and you know it.”

“Big Macintosh, t’ ain’t any o’ your business t’ poke your nose into my -” she broke off, leaving her brother to smile gently to himself as he picked through the tools.

The next pause was, if still awkward, at least not as cold.

“All right, Big Macintosh. You were right, an’ I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be pryin’ into what y’ do when you’re not workin’, an’ I should trust you not t’ do anythin’ that’d hurt th’ farm.”

The stallion nodded, a touch smugly. “Eyyyup. Now that that’s sorted,” he continued, raising his voice, “Ah think we can be let out, Apple Bloom.”

Silence.

“Apple Bloom?”

Applejack peered out a window. “She’s asleep, Big Macintosh.”

He rolled his eyes, and with a sigh, boosted his sister out the window. Thankfully, she was feeling contrite enough to unlock the door. Even more surprisingly, she was waiting for him on the other side.

“So,” she began, her voice carefully neutral, “when are y’ goin’ t’ see Caramel again?”

“Ah don’t rightly know, t’ tell the truth.”

His sister looked out over the rolling hills, and in that same careful tone, surprised him again. “Think y’ should see ‘im again tonight. I’ll look after th’ farm for you.”

“Ah just saw him last night, Applejack,” he replied mildly as he trotted over to the base of a tree to gather a few empty bushels. The orange filly nodded but continued on anyway.

“T’ ain’t like he wouldn’t like t’ see you., I’m sure. Y’ like ‘im, right?” She pulled a face, despite her attempts to remain unaffected. Talking about colts with her brother just felt weird.

Big Mac nodded. “Ah like him well enough...” he trailed off. His sister could feel the “but” at the end of his sentence.

“And?”

“Well, Ah wonder if’n he likes me, or the big, strong, silent Big Macintosh every filly seems t’ dream about in her head and everypony knows Ah’m like.”

Applejack clapped a hoof to her forehead - carefully, after the incident Twilight had experienced and shared with her friends - and dragged it down her muzzle. “Then sounds t’ me like y’ should see an’ talk to him, all right. Go on, git, Big Macintosh! An’ don’t come back until after sundown!”

Big Macintosh nodded in such an over-exaggerated display of mock obedience that his sister couldn’t help herself - she slapped his tail against his flank. The red pony jumped in shock, then gave her a look that mixed annoyance, amusement, and exasperation as he sauntered off.

Caramel, Big Mac knew, would still be out making deliveries for the next hour, leaving the stallion with perhaps too much time for contemplation. Most of it, of course, revolved around his unexpected budding relationship with the town’s most unlucky resident.

As Ponyville appeared over the hill, the red stallion came to a conclusion. It was either luck or fate that the tan earth pony’s cart was parked outside one of the nearer houses; the colt was indeed busy doing his rounds.

Nodding, the stallion slowed to a walk, then stopped a few feet from the wagon.

Now that he had the time, Big Mac looked it over, noticing small details that he had missed when passing Caramel by in the streets, or when talking to him.

The cart was well-kept, but worn, and in several places even careful sanding and polishing couldn’t disguise the wood’s age or shabbiness. Big Macintosh swallowed; it was amazing the cart had lasted as long as it had.

“Big Macintosh! What are you doing out here?” Caramel’s voice rang with surprised pleasure as he the colt trotted up to him.

“Applejack gave me t’ night off,” the red earth pony answered uncomfortably as he shifted on his hooves.

Caramel tilted his head. “Is... something wrong?”

“Caramel... Ah don’t think we should be seein’ each other. Ah think’ you just want t’ date me ‘cause Ah’m a ‘safe pony’ and y’ think Ah won’t hurt you.” With that, Big Macintosh dropped his head and walked off, refusing to look the devastated pony in the eyes. Caramel watched him go, stunned and barely able to react.

“But... what’s wrong with ‘safe’...?”

Caramel Covered Apple

Big Macintosh took his time getting back to Sweet Apple Acres, mostly in an effort to avoid the older of his two sisters.

Typically, it didn’t work. As soon as Applejack saw him, she came galloping across the fields to meet him, hooves digging divots out of the earth.

“I thought I told ya not t’ come back afore sundown!” she bellowed as soon as he was in range of her voice.

“Well, Ah -” he began, then started to cough uncontrollably from the dust as she skidded to a halt in front of him. Applejack tapped a hoof impatiently, urging him to get on with it. “Ah told Caramel Ah didn’t think Ah should be seein’ him...”

“Y’ WHAT?! This have anything t’ do with that load o’ horse apples y’ were talking’ about afore y’ left?”

Big Macintosh coughed and tried not to look guilty, then dropped his ears and head as soon as he realized it wasn’t working. The red pony braced himself for another one of his sister’s legendary haranguings.

What he wasn’t ready for was his sister’s teeth clamping down on his ear and pulling him none too gently towards Ponyville.

He yelped; he couldn’t help himself. “Applejack, what’s this about?”

“I have got, “ she replied around her mouthful, “th’ most insensitive, dense, clod-headed brother in all o’ Equestria!”

Big Mac squirmed at her words, still being pulled along helplessly by the smaller mare. “Ah’m sorry!”

Applejack stopped in her tracks and spat out his ear, to the red colt’s immense relief. “Awright, I shoulda asked this first. D’ y’ love ‘im?”

Her brother flinched as though she’d just kicked him in the side. “Ah... uh... Ah don’t rightly know.”

The orange pony glowered at him. “Well, y’ better figure it out fast. D’ you like ‘im?”

Big Macintosh reared back in indignation. “A’ course Ah like him!”

“Then that’s a start. Y’ can figure out what t’ say t’ him on th’ way.” With that, she closed her jaws on his other ear and resumed dragging her unwilling brother into town.

“Jacks, this’s undignified,” he griped as she forced him past pony after staring pony.

“Y’ shoulda thought o’ that afore y’ dumped Caramel so hard!” she shot back around his ear. His only response to that was a defeated sigh as Applejack led him up the steps to Caramel’s door.

She rapped a hoof on the frame, and waited.

And waited.

The orange mare narrowed her eyes to slits. She’d had more than enough of this nonsense for one day. Big Mac shied away nervously as soon as he glimpsed her expression. “Caramel! Y’ open this door right now, or I’ll buck it down! Don’t think I won’t!”

When there was still no response, Applejack lost her patience, spun, and slammed her hind hooves into the door.

To both ponies’ shock, it flung open wide, crashed into the wall, and rebounded shut.

“Ah guess he didn’t lock it,” Big Macintosh commented dryly. He shrunk back when his sister turned to stare him down. “... What?”

She lifted a hoof and prodded him sharply in the flank. “Now you are goin’ t’ get in thar an’ talk t’ yer poor, brokenhearted colt!”

The red stallion opened his mouth to reply that no, Caramel was not “his” colt, then promptly thought better of it when he saw the Look on his sister’s face. “Ah’m goin’, Ah’m goin’...” he said instead, taking a few steps into the darkened house.

“One more thing, Big Macintosh.” He froze. “Y’ aren’t comin’ home until y’ get this sorted. I mean it. Y’ try to show up on the farm beforehand, and I’ll have yer chestnuts on th’ anvil.”

Big Mac blanched, then nodded dolefully, making his way into the first darkness-shrouded room. He was completely unprepared for the door getting firmly and loudly shut behind him.

“Caramel?” he called softly. There was no answer, and he pricked his ears for any sound at all.

There were no sobs, or curses. If the pony were home, he was being remarkably silent.

“Caramel?” he tried again more loudly, then let loose a whinny of pain when his ankle banged roughly into something.

“Ah’ve ‘bout had ‘nough of this,” he muttered, fumbling along the walls and whacking his shins into more furniture until he found the light switch.

He blinked as the lights came on - the room was neat, tidy, and aside from the furniture, empty, without a single painting on the walls. To an earth pony of Big Macintosh’s background, where a wall was regarded as something to cover with pictures, it was unsettling.

The light did allow him to make better progress, and he went from room to room, flicking on the bulbs as he went. No matter where he checked, though, he could find no sign of his... friend, he finally settled on.

At last, there was only one room he hadn’t explored yet - the bedroom, which he’d balked at entering until he had no choice.

It was as dimly lit as the rest of the house had been, and despite his desire to see, and the misgivings he felt, he refused to turn on the switch here. With the lights behind him, he could make out enough of the obstacles in the room to safely navigate a path, though the floor here was mostly empty. The only possible thing he could stumble over were Caramel’s two panniers, abandoned in a sad little heap on the way to the bed.

Big Macintosh’s objective was the huddled lump on top of the bed itself.

“Caramel,” he whispered when he finally reached the edge of the mattress. There was still no reply, and Big Macintosh leaned in worriedly.

The tan pony’s chest was still rising and falling as he breathed. The red stallion exhaled in an explosive sigh and shut his eyes in relief.

The hoof which struck him sharply across the face came as a complete shock, and Big Mac stumbled back in surprise, nearly tripping over the bags.

“What in Equestria was that f-” the red pony began, then checked himself. He knew exactly what that was for.

“Go away,” Caramel’s voice was faint, and Big Macintosh found himself leaning over the bed to make out the words.

This time he was expecting the hoof that lashed out, and he shied away. “Ah’ll be goin’ then,” he murmured to the tetchy pile on the bed, “but Ah’ll be back.”

“Buck you, Macintosh.”

The stallion made his way back out of the house and sat on the front steps. Ignoring the eyes of the ponies staring at him, Big Mac gazed thoughtfully into the distance, teeth working on his hay stem.

Eventually, his eyes fell on the half-loaded cart Caramel used for his deliveries, and with a grunt the stallion pulled himself to his hooves and hitched himself to it, eyes glancing down at the packages and addresses. Satisfied that he knew where to take them, he set off.

It took him about an hour, and several variations on “Ah’m helpin’ Caramel, who’s feelin’ a mite indisposed,” but he got the job done shortly after dusk fell. As he returned the cart to the same place he found it, his mind was working on several plans.

“Ah’m... back,” he spoke to the silent house as he pushed the door open. As much of a reflex as it was, he doubted Caramel would appreciate his house getting called Big Mac’s “home”.

The red stallion peeked his head into the bedroom. “Ah just finished with your route for you,” he told the colt-blob on the bed. Once again, he wasn’t gifted with an answer. Sighing, Big Macintosh lowered his head and went to sleep on the couch, turning off the lights as he went.

The next morning, the red stallion was the first to wake, and with a quick glance into Caramel’s room, he confirmed the tan pony was still asleep. He took advantage of the time to gallop over to Sweet Apple Acres to begin the first part of the scheme he’d come up with the previous night.

Applejack was, unsurprisingly, already up and working by the time he arrived. As soon as she saw him, he got another look. “Y’ got things sorted out?” she asked in a tone that indicated that if he said “yes” she wasn’t going to believe it.

Big Macintosh shook his head. “Just here t’ get some of m’ spare bits, and Ah’ll be goin’ back.”

His sister just snorted and went back to hauling in the various farming implements that he hadn’t managed to gather the previous day.

It was a quick errand, just to nip up to his room and rifle underneath the mattress for his -

Something wasn’t right. In fact, something was missing. His money was all there, but there was another secret stash that was supposed to be there and wasn’t. Big Mac shot a suspicious glance out the window, gathered his bits, and went on his way.

After a quick stop.

“Say, sis,” he asked Applejack as he passed, as casually as he could, “You wouldn’t know what happened t’ the copies of Playmare Ah had?”

He had the satisfaction of seeing her turn bright red as he continued down the road.

“I read them fer th’ articles!” she shouted at his hindquarters. Big Mac chuckled before returning his focus to the reason he’d gone out of his way to visit the farm. With luck, the shop he was going to next was open.

As it turned out, it was, and the red stallion spent most of his bits, and half an hour, explaining what he wanted. Satisfied, he trotted back to Caramel’s house.

The tan pony hadn’t budged, and Big Macintosh sighed. “Come on, Caramel, Y’ need t’ get up. Bathe. Eat somethin’.”

No reply again.

“... Please?”

One eye popped open and glared at him. “You’re not going to go away, are you.”

The red pony shook his head.

“... Fine.” Caramel pushed himself to his hooves and shook, his mane sticking up in odd angles. Despite the horrible situation, Big Mac had to repress the urge to smile at how cute it made the other pony look.

“Ah’ll make some breakfast while you’re bathin’,” Big Macintosh said, relieved that Caramel was doing something.

His relief was short-lived, as Caramel somehow even managed to eat angrily. His posture, mostly consisting of hunching over his bowl of oats and glowering up at Big Macintosh, only added to the effect.

“There, I ate. You know where the door is.” Caramel turned back to the bedroom and curled up on the bed once more. The red stallion sighed despondently and went back out to the steps to think again.

It didn’t take long before Big Mac went stir-crazy. At Sweet Apple Acres there was always something to be done, and the lack of activity was more than he could handle. Quickly, he decided to see if there was anything else Caramel needed to deliver.

He always thought better when he was working, anyway.

Big Macintosh was staggered at the size of the pile that awaited him, and he shot an impressed glance back toward Caramel’s house. If this was the sort of thing he did every day, the brown pony’s stock with Big Mac had definitely risen further.

He was even more amazed that delivering them all took all day. He shook his head. No wonder Caramel worked so hard when at the farm; he was obviously used to prolonged, strenuous effort.

Before he could go back to Caramel’s for another uncomfortable night, he had a stop to make.

The store’s owner was happy to talk to him again, though Big Macintosh was a little disappointed that his commission would take a few days to be finished. Pleased, if a little irked that his purchase wouldn’t be ready instantly, he headed back to Caramel’s.

“Caramel -” he began as he opened the door, then froze. Caramel was sitting in the couch, sniffling into a pillow. The same one, Big Macintosh noted in a corner of his mind, that he’d been resting his head on the previous night. The rest of his attention was taken up with how quickly the colt went from “sobbing angstpile” to “teeth-bared ball of fury”.

“Go away, Big Macintosh,” he snarled.

The red stallion opposite him shut the door, then carefully maneuvered himself into a chair. “Ah can’t do that,” he murmured.

“Why not? You clearly don’t care,” snorted Caramel with a bitter, broken laugh. Big Mac felt something in him twist at the sound.

“Ah’m sorry, Caramel.”

“So’m I. Sorry that I wasted my time mooning over a pony who’s such a jerk!”

Big Macintosh stared at his hooves. “Ah’m not a clever pony, Caramel. Ah thought you were hankerin’ after the big, strong type o’ pony and Ah fit the bill... and that you weren’t interested in what Ah was really like.”

“Horse apples, Macintosh. I’ve known you for years. I know the ‘real’ you.”

The red pony slumped further. “Ah’m sorry,” he whispered again. He didn’t know what else to say.

“Why’re you even here, anyway? You know I don’t want you in my house.”

Big Macintosh swallowed. “Ah was told once that if’n Ah hurts somepony Ah... Ah care about, Ah need t’ make up for it somehow.”

Caramel bared his teeth and turned his back on the other pony, facing into the cushions on the couch. “Yeah. You care about me all right. You’ve got a great way of showing it.”

The red stallion looked up from his hooves and felt something wrench in his chest. He needed to do something, anything, to fix the situation he found himself in and that he’d caused.

Several possible scenarios flickered through his head, and each one he dismissed. Finally, he settled on one, though the chance of it working was... low. Not that it mattered, since Caramel seemed dead set on hating him.

The chair creaked as he stood, and trembling, he moved closer to Caramel, until he was only a few inches away. Tentatively, he lowered his head and began to lap at Caramel’s horseshoe cutie mark.

The tan pony’s reaction was instantaneous, shivers shooting through his smaller frame. “M-Mac... what’re you doing?!”

Big Mac paused for a moment, his bright green eyes meeting Caramel’s blue ones. “Ah’m sorry, Caramel. Ah l-like you a lot. Ah shoulda treated you better’n Ah had.” He swallowed, trying to get past the lump in his throat. “D’ you... d’ you still want to date me?”

Caramel let out another laugh, this one weak and burbling, but sounding far more natural. “You... oh, Celestia help me you actually mean it.”

“Ah do, Caramel,” replied the stallion, climbing into the protesting couch and awkwardly wedging himself in behind the tan pony. Wrapping his hooves around Caramel’s sides, he held him tightly and nuzzled at the back of his neck.

Caramel let out a deep breath, and Big Macintosh found himself holding his.

“Oh, buck it, get up, Mac.” The red pony blinked, hurt, before Caramel continued. “The couch’s too small for us.”

“Y’mean...”

Caramel nodded, leaning back into Big Macintosh’s embrace. Despite his words, he seemed disinclined to move. “I suppose so, Mac. You can stay.”

Big Mac felt his heart leap, and he gave his colt a smile and quiet, satisfied reply.

“Eyyyup.”

Striped Apple

Rainbow Dash kicked at one of the apple trees, halfheartedly. To absolutely nopony’s surprise, nothing happened - partially because she put no effort into the blow, but mostly because there were no apples left to harvest.
Satisfied by her minor act of frustration, she went back to ploddingly walking over every hill to see if she could find anything else that might have been left out.

“Ugh, this would go so much faster if you let me fly...” she complained.

“If’n I let y’ fly, you’d miss things! Rainbow Dash, I told ya, y ‘can’t rush things on Sweet Apple Acres! It takes long, focused work t’ do a job here well,” Applejack shot back at her.

“I know, I know...” the pegasus replied, rolling her eyes at the indignity and unfairness of it all. “You should be glad I had the day off to help you at all.”

Applejack snickered. “Yeah? An’ why might that be? I’m makin’ y’ miss your naps?”

Rainbow Dash lifted into the air and spun to face her companion. “As if! I’ve been hangin’ out with the Wonderbolts! Spitfire said that if I keep practicing, I’ll be a shoe-in at the next recruitment session!”

“And just how many of those practices have y’ missed?” the orange filly needled her friend. Rainbow Dash merely rolled her eyes at the remark.

“So, why isn’t Big Macintosh helping like he always does?” she asked, the blue filly switching topics to something she felt was more neutral.

This time it was Applejack’s turn to stare up at the sky. “He’s over at Caramel’s.”

“Hey, it’s about time that he got a social life! Honestly, Applejack, he’s more of a shut-in than Twilight!”

Applejack went stone-faced. “'T ain’t what I’d term a ‘social call’, Rainbow Dash.”

The pegasus shot her friend a confused glance and gestured with a hoof, urging her to continue.

The current head of operations at Sweet Apple Acres put a hoof to her forehead. “He’s seein’ th’ colt.”

“Well, of course he’s seeing him, he’s over at his - wait wait wait wait. He’s seeing Caramel? As in seeing seeing?”

Applejack just nodded, resigned. Rainbow Dash, on the other hoof, started to crack up instantly.

“Oh, man, that’s hilarious! Big, quiet Big Macintosh’s been in the back fields the whole time?!” She was abruptly pulled back to earth by a rough tug on her tail.

“If’n you say one more word ‘bout my brother, Dash, I’m gonna make y’ suffer for ‘t!”

The pegasus mashed her face against Applejack’s. “Oh yeah? What’re you gonna do?”

The earth filly spat out the rainbow-striped hair and crouched. “This!” she shot back, launching herself at her friend.

With that, the pair began another of their inevitable friendly roughhousing tussles. Though Applejack was stronger and more used to physical effort, Rainbow Dash was considerably more limber, and used it to her advantage.

The end result was the pair locking hooves, heads, and on one memorable occasion, somehow knotting their tails together.

Applejack led with a quick ankle-lock and tug, neatly pushing the pegasus off-balance, but she quickly reacted by using her wings to drive herself forward, slamming her body into the orange filly.

She had been half-expecting such a move from Rainbow Dash and went with it, letting her opponent push her over. The rainbow-maned filly’s crow of victory was cut off as Applejack kept her grip on the blue pony’s hoof and planted her nose into the ground.

Rainbow Dash grunted and staggered to her feet, kicking out behind her. Despite Applejack’s attempt to dodge, she wasn’t quite fast enough, and was lifted into the air a few inches before dropping back to the ground.

The blue pegasus twisted around and lunged, pinning the more solid filly down and rubbing some dirt into the yellow mane as she did so.

In revenge, Applejack trod on Rainbow Dash’s tail, muddying it up as well as tugging it sharply.

A few seconds of stillness passed.

“I win!” boasted the pegasus. “I pinned you!”

“I win, I’ve got yer tail!”

“I got you dirty first!”

Applejack smirked. “If’n y’ wanted me t’ take a bath, y’ just had t’ say...”

Rainbow Dash’s expression went somewhere between mortified embarrassment and sly intent. “Well...” she began, releasing her friend and offering a hoof to help her up, “now that you mention it...”

Applejack gave her a quick nuzzle. “I’ll be right there, jus’ need t’ get a few things t’ scrub with.”

“So,” Applejack began tentatively as she lowered herself into the lake, “how’re the Wonderbolts?”

“Oh, it is so awesome practicing with them! Have you seen Spitfire? She’s the leader, the bright yellow one with the orange mane? Well, she’s been training me with the other Wonderbolts - not little fillies’ practice, but the real thing, and...”

The orange pony just nodded her head, most of what her friend was saying going completely over her hat. “‘M I goin’ t’ have t’ worry ‘bout what you’re gettin’ up to away from me?”

Rainbow Dash turned red and ducked under the water for a moment. When she resurfaced, she had regained some composure. “It’s not like that, I swear! Even if she’s so cool and graceful and fast and pretty...” she trailed off.

“Careful, sugar, yer startin’ t’ drool,” chuckled the earth pony.

Rainbow Dash had the decency to look embarrassed again. “Sorry, Applejack. You know it’s not like that.”

The apple farmer smirked. “Oh, sure. I’ll be up at all hours now, wonderin’ just what little ol’ Dashie’s up t’ with all her new friends. An’ I’m sure you’ll be up t’ all hours with ‘em too.”

Rainbow Dash tried hard, but wasn’t able to stop her feathers from puffing out at the nickname. “Auugh. You know what that does to me,” she complained, nosing at her wings in an effort to get them to go down.

“Heh, not my fault y’ get a wingboner at it...”

“Yeah, but it is your fault if you keep using it! Anyway,” she continued, giving up on forcing her wings to behave, “what’s up with your brother?”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “He was perfectly normal until right at th’ end o’ th’ harvest. Then he went out with Caramel once, an’ I thought that’d be th’ end o’ it.”

Rainbow Dash picked up a brush and gave the orange pony’s withers a good scrubbing. “I take it it wasn’t then?” the pegasus asked when she’d finished.

“Nope. Turns out th’ very next day he sees Caramel he goes an’ breaks up with ‘im for a silly reason.”

The blue filly gave the other a slow look as she began to beat her wings, lifting out of the lake. “And...?”

“Well, he was mopin’ all th’ way back t’ th’ farm. I went an’ made ‘im go back, that’s why I asked y’ t’ help out while he’s away.”

A sudden glint appeared in Rainbow Dash’s eyes. “Away, you say? Soooo, have you checked his room for anything... good?”

Applejack groaned as she wrung the water out of her mane. “He already knows I ‘borrow’ some o‘ his magazines, Dashie. I don’t think I want t’ give ‘im more reasons t’ poke fun at me.”

The blue filly yelped and promptly plummeted back into the pond as her wings seized up. Her impact made a small wave that crested over and re-drenched her partner. “Well, fine,” she said, once she’d burst out of the water and pulled herself to the embankment to dry off, “but there’s gotta be something we can do...” Her eyes shimmered.

“Right y’ are. We can get back t’ cleanin’ up after th’ workers on th’ farm.”

Rainbow Dash buried her hooves in her face and groaned.

Desert Apple

Big Macintosh looked up at his sister from his breakfast. “Ah’m not sure Ah’m hearin’ you right,” he began around his mouthful. Swallowing, he picked up the thread of conversation. “Y’ want me t’ go t’ Appleloosa?”

Applejack’s smile was a bit forced around the edges. “I do!”

The stallion rumbled in a light chuckle as Apple Bloom glanced back and forth between them. “This wouldn’t have anythin’ to do with avoidin’ cousin Braeburn, would it?”

His sister’s grin crumbled further. “Consarn it, I was hopin’ you’d not figure ‘t out!”

This time Big Mac didn’t bother to suppress his laughter. “Ah thought so. Ah hadn’t forgotten th’ time you went t’ Appleloosa and came back with those stories ‘bout him.”

Applejack’s fake smile disappeared completely. “I shoulda known better’n t’ try t’ trick ya,” she muttered. “Guess I’ll be off t’ pack.”

“Now Ah never said Ah wouldn’t go,” Big Mac broke in. “Ah just wanted you t’ be honest with me, is all. Why’d cousin Braeburn want one o’ us t’ visit?”

“He said he wanted one o’ us t’ check up on th’ apple trees, is all.”

Big Macintosh flicked his ears forward, intrigued. “He thinks there’s somethin’ wrong with the orchard?”

His sister shrugged. “He didn’t really say, t’ tell th’ truth.”

“Ah’m surprised you aren’t chompin’ at th’ bit t’ go see Bloomberg again.”

Applejack sniffed disdainfully, and Apple Bloom covered her mouth to hide the giggles. “I’m over Bloomberg, Big Macintosh.”

“That so? Then which lucky tree replaced ‘im?” he asked as he sauntered out of the house.

At the sound of his sister’s annoyed grunt, the stallion grinned widely, then very carefully wiped the expression off his face, returning it to its more familiar placid neutrality.

Ah wonder if Caramel’d like t’ come, he thought to himself as he set about raking the fallen leaves out from under the branches. He resolved to ask the next time he saw his coltfriend.

“You’re going to Appleloosa? Can I come too? My sister moved out there and I haven’t seen her in ages,” Caramel asked.

Big Macintosh walked alongside the tan pony as he made his rounds of deliveries.

“Ah was just about t’ ask if you wanted t’ go,” he rumbled. “So Ah suppose that’s answered.”

Caramel turned his head and smiled at his companion. “I still haven’t thanked you properly for the new cart,” he added.

The larger pony shuffled on his hooves. “T’ wasn’t much...” he mumbled.

Caramel snorted. “It was, Mac. I’ve been looking at getting a new one for weeks now, but they were too expensive. And that was without a fresh coat of paint, too!” Despite his words, he ran an appreciative eye over the brilliant scarlet wood.

Macintosh rolled his shoulders. “If’n you’re wantin’ t’ come along, Ah wouldn’t think it’d be a long trip. A week, at most.”
Caramel nodded as he drew to a halt at his next stop. “That’d be fine. I’ve enough vacation time saved up for a lot longer than just a week. When are we leaving?”

“Ah don’t rightly know yet,” Big Macintosh answered evasively. At Caramel’s raised eyebrow, he continued, “Ah’m not quite sure if’n it’s an emergency or not, so Ah sent a letter askin’ Braeburn if’n Ah needed t’ head out soon as Ah could.”

“I suppose that’s all you can do,” murmured Caramel as he worked on unloading the next package.

“Eeeeyup.”

The tan earth pony wrestled the box to the ground, then stood in place, panting. “See you later, then, Mac?”

“Eeeeyup. Ah’ll let y’ know when we’re goin’.”

“Thanks,” Caramel waved a hoof at the other pony, then put his shoulder to the box and started pushing it to the door... slowly.

Big Macintosh hid a grin and put his own strength to work as well, shoving the package to the doorway with ease.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Caramel called at the retreating flanks.

“Eeeeyup!”

A few days later, Caramel eyed the assortment of items laid out on his bed. Toothbrush, toothpaste, bits, soap for his hide... he frowned. Was he forgetting anything?

He shrugged mentally as he stuffed everything into his panniers. If he were, he’d get a replacement in Appleloosa.

He’d just hauled his packs onto his back when somepony knocked on the door.

“Y’ ready t’ go?” Big Macintosh asked as soon as the tan pony had the door open. “T’ train leaves in ‘bout an hour an’ a half. Plenty of time t’ make it t’ th’ city if’n we go now.”

“I’m ready,” Caramel answered, nodding back over his shoulder at the bags. “So,” he began as the pair trotted out of Ponyville, “why are you going to Appleloosa again?”

The omnipresent hay stem bobbed in Macintosh’s mouth as he thought. “Got a letter from a cousin o’ mine named Braeburn. There’s an orchard out in Appleloosa he’s lookin’ after, an’ Ah suppose he wants another o’ th’ Apple clan t’ take a look at it.”

Caramel nodded, lapsing into silence. The red stallion didn’t mind in the least, his attention mostly on planning out the rest of the trip in more detail.

He already knew the basics, but with three days in Appleloosa, well. Surely it all couldn’t be taken up by Braeburn. Macintosh snuck a glance at Caramel’s flank.

Macintosh had been right about the time it took to get to the train station, Caramel admitted to himself.

“Where d’you wanna go?” the ticket pony asked, a note of disinterest in her voice.

“Two tickets to Appleloosa, please.”

The grey pony inside the booth snorted and unwound two stubs. “Thirty bits each.”

Caramel deposited the coins onto the countertop, followed moments later by Macintosh’s money.

“Track three,” the salespony said as the pair took their tickets, and promptly went back to ignoring them.

Big Mac and Caramel exchanged a look, and shrugging, went to find their train. Fortunately, it was a short walk. Unfortunately, Caramel’s luck struck again, and in full force. He tripped over his own hooves no less than three times, and on the second, Macintosh offered to hold the smaller pony’s bags and ticket, “just in case”.

Flushing, Caramel stood still while the red stallion took his panniers, and after a few seconds of loosening the straps, draped them over his wider haunches.

It didn’t take the pair much longer to find the track, and they settled on a bench to wait. Aside from the red and tan ponies, the part of the station they were in was empty.

It remained fairly empty until the train itself arrived - one or two other ponies trotted up to the platform, but for the most part there was hardly anypony waiting to go to Appleloosa.

“Is this the same train your sister took?” Caramel asked quietly. Big Macintosh shook his head.

“Ah think they took a cargo train, not a passenger one. Ah didn’t ask.”

Caramel nodded as he stood and stretched his legs, eyeing their ride cautiously. It didn’t look like much, but if it got them where they needed to go...

“Caramel.”

The colt glanced back at his coltfriend, curious.

The stallion was holding his ticket in his mouth, along with a sardonically lifted eyebrow.

The tan colt took it, offering a mumbled thanks, and once more turned to board, hoping to hide his embarrassment.

After a few mis-starts, the two found their compartment and settled in for the overnight trip.

A day later, the sun beat down on Appleloosa with punishing heat. Caramel winced as he stepped out onto the platform.

“Ah see your hindquarters are still sore,” Big Macintosh rumbled. The tan pony nodded with a pained grunt.

“Wish I’d seen that tack before I sat down,” he griped plaintively.

“Welcome to Aaaaaaaaaaappleloosa!” shouted a cheery voice, right in the beleagured colt’s ear. Caramel yelped again as he toppled over.

Macintosh looked down, raised an eyebrow, and helped the pony back up. “An’ a good day t’ you, cousin Braeburn,” he nodded at the “welcoming” pony. Braeburn just grinned wider.

“Howdy, Big Macintosh! What took you away from Sweet Apple Acres? Usually wild buffalo couldn’t pull you away - no offense!” he called at a passing pair of bison. They just shook their heads at the overeager colt before moving on, and Braeburn returned his attention to the visitors.

“If’n Ah recall, you sent a vague letter t’ the farm, cousin. Ah thought Ah should come ‘n see for m’self what the matter was.”

Braeburn laughed and leaned in closer to Caramel, much to the other pony’s discomfort. “Well, I know my cousin, but who’re you?”

“Braeburn, leave Caramel alone,” Big Mac glowered at his relative. Once more, the yellow colt just chuckled.

“I’m just bein’ hospitable, cousin!”

Caramel shot the newcomer an annoyed glare as he put a bit more space between them.

This didn’t seem to put a damper on Braeburn in the slightest. “Well, come on! I’ll show the two of you about!”

Caramel shot Big Macintosh a helpless look, and the red stallion shrugged. The tan colt let out a sigh that mingled resignation with annoyance. “Lead the way...”

Braeburn tipped his hat with a hoof, and with a jaunty swish of his tail, began the tour. “Over that way’s the apple orchard, the saloon’s over there, houses are over there, an’ here’s the hotel. Tour’s done!”

Big Macintosh and Caramel stared at the Appleloosian.

“That’s it?” ventured Caramel after a few seconds.

“Yup! That’s all y’ need to know. Appleloosa’s pretty small. So, where’re you stayin’?”

Caramel and Big Mac exchanged another look. “Ah think we were goin’ t’ stay in the’ hotel...” the stallion began. Braeburn frowned.

“That won’t do t’all! Y’ ought to come out and stay with me. I’ve got plenty of space to spare, ‘specially with a handsome colt like you,” he finished grinning at Caramel a little too widely for the tan pony’s comfort. He swallowed.

“I think I’d really prefer the hotel...”

“Well... okay, then,” Braeburn said, looking a little put-out. Caramel just breathed a sigh of relief as the three of them pushed the door open.

A rather distinguished gentlecolt glowered at the trio from across the countertop. “Mister Braeburn, how often must I tell you, we do not sell rooms by the hour? Or, in your case, by the minute?”

Braeburn laughed, and the hotel manager frowned even more severely and adjusted his monocle.

Nervous, Caramel stepped forward. “E-excuse me... but Big Macintosh and I would like a room for a few nights...”

The middle-aged pony turned his formidable gaze onto the tan colt. “I see. And this,” he gestured to the red stallion who was hanging back a few feet, “is Big Macintosh?”

“Eeeeyup.”

The manager’s eyes dropped to the ledger in front of him. “I am afraid,” he began, “that we are out of rooms with only one bed...”

“Uhm...” Caramel broke in. “Two beds are fine.”

The pony behind the desk glanced up at Big Mac, who nodded silently. “Very well,” he continued, his voice softening imperceptibly. “That will be fifty bits a night.”

“Separate beds, huh?” Braeburn whispered to Macintosh. Soundlessly, the stallion shifted position, landing a hoof on one of the yellow pony’s and putting all his weight on it.

Braeburn winced and shut up.

Big Macintosh eyed Braeburn’s back half irritably as he followed the other two ponies up to the room.

“Ah think that’s far ‘nough, cousin.” Big Mac grunted. “Ah’ll see you at the orchard tomorrow.”

The yellow colt opened his mouth to say something, saw his cousin’s expression, and thought better of it. “Right. See you tomorrow!”

Big Macintosh watched him leave, and shut the door as soon as his relative vanished down the stairs.

He wasn’t expecting Caramel to slump against him. “Oh, thank you,” the tan pony groaned. “I wasn’t sure how to get rid of him.”

“Let’s get some shut-eye,” Macintosh replied, draping his head affectionately over his colt’s neck.

Caramel woke the next day to somepony nibbling on his ears. “I wish you’d stop that,” he grumbled half-heartedly as he ran a hoof over his mane. Big Macintosh just grinned.

“Eeeeyup.”

The smaller colt shot his friend a look. “Eeeeyup you’ll stop, or eeeeyup you know?”

“Eeeeyup.”

Caramel groaned and went to soak his head in a basin of cold water to help wake himself up.

Macintosh leaned back on his bed and chewed the nub of his hay stem, letting thoughts drift aimlessly through his mind. Suddenly he froze, horrified eyes turning to stare at the grass between his teeth. What was he going to do when this one was gone? He was in the middle of the desert!

This terrifying train of thought was temporarily broken by Caramel returning from the washroom.

“Ah assume you’re goin’ t’ see your sister while Ah’m over at th’ orchard?”

“If that’s all right with you...”

Big Mac nodded. “Works jus’ fine for me. Meet y’ back here t’ night afore dinner?”

Caramel smiled at his stallion. “Sure. I’ll tell you how it went tonight.”

“Same,” rumbled Mac as he rolled onto his feet and followed Caramel out the door.

The red pony braced himself as the orchard came into view over the hill.

“HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY COUSIN!”

He let out a sigh. Just once, he sighed at the heavens, it’d be nice to be wrong about Braeburn. The yellow colt charged up the hill to meet his relative.

“Glad y’ made it! What d’ you think?” he smiled proudly as he waved a hoof at the softly swaying trees.

Big Macintosh tilted his head, inspecting them through narrowed eyes. “Looks good t’ me.” With that out of the way, he picked his way down the path to the apple trees, intent on a more full inspection.

Braeburn followed suit, yammering away, but Macintosh tuned him out - the apples were why he was here, everything else could wait.

The examination took perhaps half the morning, and by the end of it, the stallion from Ponyville was thoroughly exasperated. “Braeburn,” he spoke, breaking into the exuberant pony’s chatter, “‘T ain’t a single thing wrong with a single branch. Why’m Ah here?”

Braeburn had the grace to look ashamed. “Well, I wanted t’ make sure the trees were okay for the winter...”

“And y’ couldn’t say that in your letter?”

The yellow pony coughed and quickly began trying to find another subject to talk about.

He picked the wrong one.

“So, who’s that other colt with you?”

“Braeburn.”

“Let me tell you, I’d want to take him for a gallop!”

“Braeburn...”

“Awfully cute fella, too. Why’d he come along with you? He hire you t’look imposing on the trip, like y’ do now?”

“BRAEBURN!” Big Macintosh bellowed. Once sure he had his cousin’s full attention for once, he snorted hard. “Y’ leave my little colt alone. Caramel’s shy ‘nough as-is, an’ he don’t need your help t’ make it worse.”

Braeburn stared at the red pony slack-jawed. Unfortunately, it didn’t last. “‘Your little colt’? So, is he as sweet as his name? How’s he in bed, Big Macintosh?”

Big Macintosh took a menacing step forward. “Ah wouldn’t know, cousin. Ah’m sure Ah’ll find out when he finally asks t’ share a bed with me, but that ain’t any of your business. Leave. Caramel. Alone. Or Ah’ll tell Granny Smith what you got up to last time y’ visited Ponyville for the reunion.”

Braeburn blanched, swallowed a few times in an effort to get his voice working, then nodded meekly.

Ah hope Caramel’s havin’ a better mornin’ than this, he thought.

Caramel knocked on the door expectantly.

A few moments passed, and he tried again.

“Pistachio?”

Nothing.

“Sis? You home?”

Finally the door opened, and an almost identical filly stood in front of him. “I’m sorry, I don’t take customers this- Caramel?”

Her brother was too dumbfounded by her hat to answer. Sighing, she pulled him into her house and shut the door.

“You’re a-”

“Courtesan, Caramel, please. And call me Almond, everyone here knows me by that name.”

Grumbling, he took a sip of the tea she’d just placed in front of him. “Why?”

“Almond” smiled and spread her front hooves, encompassing all of the room, and by extension, her house in the gesture. “Why not, when it pays this well? And, dear brother, where is the harm? A night of pleasure for a weary colt, a bag of bits in exchange, and everypony goes home content. Speaking of bits, are you still working at the post office with that clumsy mare? Oh, what was her name... Ditzy? Tripsy?”

“Derpy. No, sis, I’ve got my own job now, making deliveries.”

Almond sniffed. “Well, at least it’s a step up. Any handsome colts in your life?”

Once more, Caramel’s brain locked up. “But... I... I never... I never told you or Mom or Dad...”

His sister gave him a small smile. To his relief, it wasn’t the practiced one she’d worn when she’d opened the door. “Caramel, I’m your sister. I know these things.”

He shuffled his hooves. “Well... there is one...”

Her smile turned into an outright grin. “Go on...”

Caramel ducked his head and mumbled. Almond, used to this sort of thing, leaned in closer.

“Big Macintosh? Are you serious? You are! Caramel, how did you manage to land the most eligible bachelor in Ponyville?”

He could feel his cheeks burn, but he lifted his head and began to retell the story. By the end, Almond was frowning.

“He dumped you like that and you still took him back? Brother, sometimes I think you lack sense along with luck.”

“He said he was sorry...” Caramel mumbled.

“Sorry! I would think you’d want more from him than a mere ‘sorry’!”

Her brother took a breath and continued on. “And he delivered all my packages two days running, didn’t go home to Sweet Apple Acres to stay with me and make sure I was okay, and bought me a new cart.”

Almond froze with her mouth open, then chuckled weakly. “Perhaps he did mean it, then. Still, I would like to speak with him some time before you leave.”

Caramel nodded meekly and took a sip of tea again.

“Now, how does a lady of my refinement put this... how skilled is your coltfriend in the saddle?”

For the second time in twenty minutes, Caramel almost died of mortification. “I... he... we haven’t done that yet!”

His sister rested a cheek on her hoof, smiling softly at her brother. With a sinking heart, he realized it was her “concerned” face. “Why not? You’re clearly attracted to him... unless he’s not willing to, hm, perform the deed with another colt?”

“He’s not like that, Caramel whispered.

“Well, it’s something to think about,” she replied, matter-of-factly, and began to clear the table. “I’m afraid some of my clientele is due to visit soon. Do let me know when you’ll be free again, hm? Take care.”

With that, Caramel found himself deposited unceremoniously back in the street.

Deep in thought, the tan earth pony made his way back to the hotel.

Dinner between the pair was a quiet affair, which was normal, but this time the silence was strained, Caramel staring at his plate for almost the entire meal. Eventually, and with some relief, Big Mac suggested they go to sleep.

Big Macintosh had just put out the lights and crawled into bed when he heard Caramel’s bed creak and shift. Thinking nothing of it other than perhaps the other pony was restless, he closed his eyes to prepare for slumber.

He wasn’t expecting his bedsprings to shriek at the weight of another pony, or for the covers to be thrown back, nor a colt’s hoof to start exploring his chest... and then slide lower.

“Caramel,” he grunted, placing his own hoof on the smaller colt’s chest, his other stopping the moving hoof, “what’re you doin’?”

The tan pony froze, his chest heaving in something that wasn’t quite a sob. Unsure, Macintosh pulled his colt in close and began trying to soothe his companion as best he could. Eventually, he could pick out words choked from between swallowed gasps for air.

“Ah want t’ be sure Ah got this right... your sister made y’ think Ah wasn’t datin’ you out o’ anythin’ more’n pity, that’s why Ah haven’t been more... physical in my actions.”

Caramel nodded, nose buried in Macintosh’s neck, not trusting himself to speak.

“Caramel”, Big Mac murmured in his ear, choosing his words carefully and twisting his body about so both ponies rested side-by-side on the bed, “Ah was waitin’ for you t’ feel more comfortable ‘bout it, is all. Ah’m in no hurry, an’ you shouldn’t be either. As for datin’ you... th’ only thing Ah’d take back is how Ah treated you th’ one night. You’re a sweet colt, and Ah wouldn’t change a thing ‘bout you.”

The only answer he received was a tight squeeze around the middle that almost knocked the breath out of him.

“You want t’ stay here longer, or go home tomorrow?”

It took a few minutes, but Caramel finally spoke, his voice cracking. “What about the orchard?”

“‘S fine. Braeburn was jus’ overreactin’. Want t’ go?”

“... Yeah.”

Big Macintosh nodded in the darkness. “Me too. Ah’ll handle th’ tickets, since you got th’ room.”

“... Thanks, Mac.”

Big Mac nuzzled his coltfriend, and was relieved to get one in return. “Nothin’ to it, Caramel. Sleep well.”

“You too, Mac.”

The next morning found the pair of them waiting at the tracks for the next train out of town.

“I hope your cousin doesn’t show up,” muttered Caramel. Big Macintosh just snorted.

“Ah take it y’ weren’t too flattered by ‘im.”

The smaller of the two shot his friend a mock glare. “Not particularly.”

Macintosh nodded in response as the train pulled up and they boarded companionably.

“I never thought I’d be glad to go back to work,” Caramel sighed. A gentle silence wrapped around them, until he spoke again. “Mac... thanks. For... not taking me up on it last night.”

“‘T weren’t nothing,” he rumbled.

“Are you sure?”

“Eeeeyup.”

Caramel smiled.

Braeburn skidded to a halt in front of the station just in time to see the train leave. “Heading off without saying goodbye? Shame on you!” Grinning, he contemplated a trip to Ponyville. After all, it had been a while since he’d seen the rest of the family...

Almond nodded at the yellow colt as he sauntered back towards the rest of the town. “That’s him. I’m sure he’s the one who chased my brother away with his boorish behavior. Please... make sure he knows how much my Caramel’s absence hurts me.”

The two stallions nodded and slipped out of the alleyway, cold frowns on their faces as they moved in toward the smaller, cheerily oblivious colt.

Cooking Apples

Knock knock knock.

“I’m on m’ way,” Applejack called as she looked at the mess of the kitchen. Pie plates, corn husks, and small stacks of hay only made up the least of it. Sighing, she turned her back on the shambled state of the room and made her way to the door.

All this, an’ Big Macintosh’s sick. Today, of all days!

The filly opened the door, one of her false grins ready. “Evening, there...” her voice suddenly lost its warmth. “Caramel.”

The colt in front of her blushed and ducked his head. “Good evening, Applejack,” he swallowed. “I’d heard Big Macintosh wasn’t feeling well. Can I come in?”

“Well, I suppose,” she began guardedly, before her eyes caught his packs. “Caramel, what’s in th’ bags? It’s drippin’ all over the porch.”

If it were possible for him to have gotten any smaller, he would have. “I... I tried to cook something for Mac...”

“And?” she coaxed when his voice trailed off. Not that she needed to be told. She could guess what had happened.

“And I tripped and spilled the soup I bought when the first try didn’t go well,” he finished. She raised an eyebrow. The farm pony wasn’t aware that anyone, especially a stallion, could mimic Fluttershy so well.

She tapped a foot, her gaze shifting from the wet, miserable pony in front of her to the snow-piled hills of Sweet Apple Acres. “And y’ came all this way anyway?”

When Caramel nodded again, Applejack took a deep breath. “Come on in, Caramel. Jus’... leave yer bags outside.”

Much to her irritation, he followed her to the kitchen instead of immediately going up to see her brother. Just as she was about to round on him and demand he explain himself, he spoke.

“Applejack? Would... would it be okay if I made something for Big Macintosh here?” He quailed as she spun and fixed him with a glare.

“I don’t have th’ time. I need t’ make dinner for me, Apple Bloom, Big Macintosh, Granny Smith, Rainbow Dash, and three other ponies who she invited over t’ meet my family. Normally, my brother’d be helpin’ me out, but he got sick a few days ago an’ still hasn’t gotten better. So, no, y’ can’t make somethin’ because I need the whole kitchen!” she ended up yelling at nopony in particular.

He had practically curled in on himself by the time she’d finished, and she blinked in surprise when he swallowed and straightened up a bit. “Can I do anything to help?” he asked, staring her right in the eyes.

Applejack sat back in thought for a moment. “Well,” she began grudgingly, “you can start by shuckin’ the corn over there.” She waved a hoof at a small mound of the ears. “When y’ finish, put them in a pot and...” she suddenly altered the sentence when she realized what the consequences of Caramel and anything flammable might be, “I’ll put it on the stove.”

Caramel nodded and walked over to the countertop, eyeing the plants warily, comparing the one small pile of naked ears with the ones yet to be cleaned. It can’t be that hard, right?

A few minutes later, he turned around, smiling in accomplishment, only to frown when he saw Applejack fuming. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t have enough hay t’ feed everpony,” she grumbled, giving him the evil eye from across the room. “Especially with somepony stoppin’ by unannounced.”

He could feel his ears droop again. “Oh. I’m sorry. I’ll just... finish helping you here, say hello to Mac, and then go home.”

The tan pony jerked back when that only seemed to make her angrier. “Oh, no! You’re a guest at Sweet Apple Acres, so we’re goin’ t’ feed you!”

There was a short silence following her retort, and he finally broke it by waving at the kettle of corn. “I, uh... I finished these.”

“Thank you, Caramel,” the orange filly answered, her tone cold as she stepped past him to carry the pot to the sink on its way to the stove. He half expected her to knock him out of the way as she moved, but to his slight surprise she did nothing of the sort.

Swallowing, he scuffed at the floor with a hoof. “So, what else can I help with?”

Applejack frowned as she finished getting the stove started, thinking hard. “Well... if’n I skimp on th’ servings, I think I can make it all work out... jus’ need to wait for th’ corn to cook and make the dessert.”

Curious, the colt took a few steps closer to his hostess. “What’s dessert?”

Despite herself, Applejack chuckled and thrust her chest out. “Nothin’ but Sweet Apple Acres’ famous Apple Acre Pie! I was goin’ t’ make one, but if you’re stayin’ I might as well make two. everypony can fill up on dessert then.” She poked him in the flank with a hoof. “And you can cook one yourself, if’n you’re so eager to make something for Big Macintosh!”

Caramel swallowed. He wasn’t sure this was a good idea... especially given how his attempt to make soup went. Soup! And here his coltfriend’s sister was telling him he’d be making a pie?

The tan colt contemplated just making a run for it now, and almost missed Applejack’s next words. “So, while I’m out gettin’ a few more things for the second pie, you might as well go up and say hello t’ my brother. But only hello,” she narrowed her eyes at him, “‘cause he’s still sick and doesn’t need t’ have anypony makin’ things worse. Y’ definitely better not be sneakin’ into his bed to ‘test the springs’!”

The tan colt swallowed. “I... We... haven’t done that. Ever.”

The filly eyed the quavering guestpony from hooves to head. “Well, see y’don’t this time,” she told him as she left the room. Huh. Guess he’s interested in my brother, not Big Macintosh, th’ most attractive formerly-single stallion in Ponyville...

He nodded meekly and quietly left the room, trotting up the stairs as silently as he could.

“Mac?” he called softly as he pushed the door open, into a darkened room. There was a single candle on the nightstand, and in its faint light he could make out the shape of his sleeping friend.

The small colt made his way over to the bed and pulled the covers back up to Macintosh’s chin. “Sleep well, Mac,” he whispered as he kissed the stallion on the cheek. “I’m gonna try to make something for you tonight. Hope my bad luck doesn’t strike.”

Carefully, he shut the door behind him and trotted back down to the kitchen.

His throat went dry when he saw Applejack. She had evidently prepared for him botching things by bringing in a veritable mountain of pie materials. The narrow-eyed glare she was giving him didn’t help reassure him in the slightest either.

One of her hooves pointed at the recipe, laid out on its own on the counter. “That ain’t got everything y’ need in it, but it’s a good spot t’ start. I’ll be watchin’ to make sure y’ don’t mess up too much, got it?”

Caramel gulped, and obediently made his way to the notes. It seems simple enough... After a few careful rereadings, he went to work.

Not two minutes later, a hoof smacked the back of his head.

“Ow! What was that for?” he complained, rubbing at the sore spot.

Applejack sighed. “Did y’even read the recipe? Granny Smith said that for the crust you need what, again?”
“Uh... flour, eggs, and... uhm... the spices... butter... and sugar!”

That hoof rapped him on the head again. “That’s for the top of th’ crust! Step aside, Caramel, an’ watch closely.” With that, she did shoulder him out of the way, her attention focused on making the pie crust.

Sensing an opportunity, the tan earth pony snuck back to the recipe and started to read how to make the filling. It seemed easy enough, and he started cutting the apples while his hostess was distracted.

In far less time than he would have liked, she was peering over his shoulder and making worrying noises. He was sure he heard a “hmmm” and a “tut-tut” in there, but Applejack didn’t raise a hoof to stop him.

It took close to an hour, with many a sticky hoof and annoyed argument, but the pair finally finished a pie that they were comfortable with.

Or, at least, fighting over it was too much effort.

Much to Caramel’s surprise, there was a second pie sitting next to the one he’d done... some of the work on. He was under no illusions that he was a fantastic baker. At his puzzled frown, Applejack just smirked.

“While y’ had trouble gettin’ things together, I had plenty o’ time t’ make my own,” she told him, opening the oven and sliding the two pastries into the heat.

A sudden thought struck him, and he glanced between the bowl of pie filling and the filly’s unprotected flanks. He’d have to move quickly.

One of his hooves scooped up some of the goo, and with a lightning-quick motion, he... dabbed a small, barely-noticeable bit of it against her flank.

Applejack’s head whipped around like a striking snake. “An’ just what d’ you think you’re doin’?” The tan colt opened his mouth to reply, but she continued on, “this is how y’ make a mess of somepony!”

Before he could think, she’d scooped up a large hoof-full of filling and thrown it with unerring accuracy right into his face.

There was another pause, broken by the sound of the thick substance sliding off the colt’s face and dripping to the ground.

“Caramel...?” Applejack asked, worriedly.

A slow grin broke over his face as he dashed to the side and ducked under the table, throwing a mass of uncooked crust deemed “unsuitable” in her general direction.

Laughing, the filly swayed to the side, the dough making a sad “thwack” as it hit the oven’s face, and she scraped some off to fling it right back at her attacker.

Caramel yelped as he got hit on the leg, and crouched down, ready to make a counterstrike that would leave her reeling-

“Applejack? Caramel? What are the two of you doing?” Rainbow Dash stared at the pair, dumbfounded, while two more pegasi peered around her.

At that moment, Caramel again wished he could melt into the floor.

“Oh, uh, hey there, Rainbow Dash! I see y’brought the Wonderbolts with ya?” Applejack asked, trying to look as though nothing had happened.

The other pegasi, one a bright orange filly and the other a blue colt, followed her into the room.

“Yeah, yeah, I did, though only Spitfire and Soarin’ could come,” she grumbled, dabbing at the one spot on Applejack’s flank with a cloth. “Applejack, Caramel, this is Spitfire, leader of the Wonderbolts, and this is -”

“Pie!” shouted Soarin’, lunging at Caramel and dragging his tongue across the befuddled colt’s face, somehow managing to lick off every last bit of the filling.

“Soarin’...” Rainbow Dash finished weakly. Spitfire, more used to her companion’s eccentricities, simply rolled her eyes and smiled lopsidedly.

Caramel stood rooted in place, eyes wide with fear and confusion as this strange pony kept licking him, until somepony took pity on him.

Spitfire, in the middle of a perfectly innocent conversation on the weather and how it was cold this month wasn’t it, lashed out with a hind hoof and rapped her compatriot sharply on the leg.

Soarin’ blinked, and then finally seemed to realize he was enthusiastically slobbering on another colt’s face. “Ah! S-sorry dude! I just was really hungry, and when I realized you had some pie on you... uhm... well, the last time I had a pie this good was at the Grand Galloping Gala, and when I heard Rainbow Dash was dating the same filly who’d sold me that pie, I had to come by!”

“More like you kept nagging at me to introduce you,” Rainbow Dash shot back. Spitfire laughed.

“Oh, he was, let me tell you... Applejack, right? He just would not shut up about the pie for days after the Gala! And then when Dash mentioned she knew you... we had to promise to introduce you to get his head back in the game!”

“And you still kept putting it off,” Soarin’ mock-pouted. This scored him absolutely no sympathy points from anypony present.

Spitfire sighed and shook her head. “Just remember to eat all your dinner before you get dessert, Soarin’.”

His eyes grew large, and his lower lip quivered. “... Before pie?”

Applejack gave Rainbow Dash a long, look. The spectrum-maned filly just returned it with a longsuffering one. Yes, they’re like this all the time when not in a show, the orange filly could see in her fillyfriend’s eyes.

The slightly awkward pause was broken by the timer on the counter dinging. Caramel flinched.

“Rainbow Dash, would y’ mind callin’ Apple Bloom down from her room? I’ll get th’ table set for everypony, and, uh... Caramel, you go an’ take a quick shower. Y’ know where Big Macintosh’s room is, jus’ take the next door away from the stairs on his side. An’ wake him up when you’re done,” ordered Applejack.

Caramel decided to go with a quick rinse over anything more in-depth. He’d really prefer a good scrubbing, but that required more time than he had, or somepony to scrub him. Somepony like the brawny stallion in the next room over, he thought dreamily...

He shook his head, water going flying though the air. Big Macintosh was sick. He wouldn’t be in any mood or shape to do anything requiring too much exertion. Plus it’d be far, far too awkward to explain why the pair of them were in the same shower. Especially to Apple Bloom.

He did linger a bit longer than was strictly proper while toweling off, though. Mmmmm. Smells like Mac, he smiled contentedly when the fabric rubbed across his face and nose.

Once he was done replacing the towel neatly on the rack and scuffing his mane back into something resembling the normal style, he was ready for the next part of his mission.

“Mac? Applejack says you need to get up, it’s time for dinner,” he called as he made his way into the red pony’s room.

No response.

Caramel flipped on the lights, and was partially gratified to see Big Mac react to the sudden brightness by squinting and turning to look at the door. The rest of him was uncomfortable at causing his pony such distress.

“Caramel? Ah’m seein’ things, right?”

Chuckling, the smaller colt trotted over to the bed and gave his friend a nuzzle. “No, I’m here. I, uh, was bringing you soup, but I spilled it on the way, and then your sister told me I was going to stay for dinner whether I liked it or not. Speaking of dinner, it’s ready and she sent me to get you.”

“Ah see,” he rumbled as he slid from under the covers and got to his feet. Caramel’s heart trembled a bit as he saw the other swaying slightly. Anypony unfamiliar with Big Macintosh wouldn’t have noticed it, but to Caramel and Macintosh’s family, it was clear he wasn’t in top shape.

To the tan colt’s surprise, Big Macintosh ignored the hay stem on the nightstand and headed towards the dining room. At his coltfriend’s puzzled look, the stallion dropped his ears and looked away. “Th’ nurses said Ah shouldn’t touch ‘em until Ah’m healthy again. Jus’ so they don’t make m’ lungs worse.”

Caramel just nodded and followed the red pony to the kitchen.

The dinner went better than Applejack had feared, especially with the way she’d met the two Wonderbolts. Spitfire, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and Granny Smith all managed to have a surprisingly engrossing conversation about the weather, how it affected the growth of various plants, and how pegasus magic might be used to better the harvests of all the farms of Ponyville.

Soarin’ spent most of the time telling an enthralled Apple Bloom about the various stunts and shows that he’d been involved in- “lots, from Canterlot to Appleloosa, and once we even went overseas to Hosstralia!” -, what made him want to join the Wonderbolts - “it was Spitfire, actually, she inspired me to see how well I could fly when I saw her perform” -, and how he got his cutie mark - “I, uh, was practicing in a storm and almost got hit by lightning. But I dodged it. It was sweet!”.
Macintosh and Caramel mostly stayed silent, though they would have a short conversation with anypony who spoke to them. Overall, they merely enjoyed the company of so many friends.

“All right, looks like everypony’s done,” Applejack noted as she looked about the table. “So I suppose it’s time for-”

“Pie?” Soarin’ broke in with an eager voice.

Everypony cracked a smile. Given how he’d been mentioning how often he wanted a slice, the last course was something of a relief. “Come on, Caramel, y’ should help me hand out slices,” Applejack told him.

Swallowing, he got to his hooves and followed her into the kitchen. “What do you want me to do?”

He blinked when she gave him another smile, one without any malice behind it. “I want y’ t’ give my brother a piece of the pie y’ cooked, o’ course.”

“Oh,” he flushed and shuffled on his hooves. “Of course.”

Caramel was completely taken aback by the friendly smack to his shoulder. “Come on, I’m sure he’ll love it! Y’ didn’t do too badly, after all,” she told him as she sliced the two pies into roughly equal parts.

The colt blushed, but eagerly helped his hostess bring out the dessert.

“Dig in, everypony!”

Everypony fell to with gusto, matching even Soarin’s eagerness.

“So...” Caramel asked Big Macintosh, in a soft voice, “what do you think of the pie?”

“Not bad. Ah wonder...” he continued, glancing at the shy colt sitting next to him, “if a certain colt Ah know had somethin’ t’ do with it.”

Caramel turned redder, and he mumbled his answer incomprehensibly. He was rewarded with a quick, gentle lick to his cheek that had him melting on the inside.

Applejack, Apple Bloom, Granny Smith, and Spitfire were sedately enjoying their pie, while Soarin’... Soarin’ managed to make a terrible mess of his muzzle, the plate, and a good portion of the table around his plate.

He was just about to start licking the table clean when Spitfire cleared her throat meaningfully. The blue pegasus looked up at her with innocent eyes, and was met with her narrowed gaze.

Remorsefully, he sat back down and looked put-upon. Everypony else ignored him, with the exception of Apple Bloom, who slid him the remainder of her half-eaten pie.

He perked right back up and went back to messily devouring the pastry.

“Well, it’s time Apple Bloom and I went to bed,” Granny Smith said with a cheery smile at the assembled ponies. “Have a good time, and it was a pleasure meeting you all,” she finished as she led the young filly out of the room.

“Oh, it is late,” Spitfire hunkered down, mortified. “I’m sorry, we didn’t mean to take up the whole evening.”
Macintosh and Applejack shared a smile and a chuckle. “Aw, don’t worry ‘bout it, sugar cube! T’ ain’t th’ first time we’ve had guests over for longer’n they thought!” the orange filly reassured her.

“Still,” the yellow pegasus insisted as the group made their way to the front door, “it’s late, and we’d better be getting home...”

The cold, shrieking wind that scythed through the hallway as the door was opened took everypony aback.

“Or, maybe not,” finished Rainbow Dash.

Once more, the two Apple siblings shared a long glance.

“Do y’ think...?”

“Eeeeyup.”

“Right!” she announced, rapping a hoof agains the floorboards to get everypony’s attention. “There’s no way we can let any o’ ya go home in this weather, so Soarin’, you’re sleepin’ on the couch, and Spitfire, you’ve got the guest bedroom!”

Soarin’ looked up. “What about Rainbow Dash and Caramel?”

“Ah think they know where they’ll be sleepin’,” Big Mac told him, with an aside glance and small smile for Caramel.

“Dude, there’s not enough beds for them to be - oh. Oh. Right on,” he finished, looking chagrined.

“Er... hold on, there, Big Macintosh. What if Caramel catches your cold?”

Caramel shuffled on his hooves. “Uh... I... I was the first pony in Ponyville to come down with it, actually... So I’ll be fine.”

“Well then, if’n you all’d come this way,” Applejack turned and led the various ponies to their temporary resting places, and made sure they were comfortable.

Rainbow Dash already knew where Applejack’s bedroom was, and took off without much fuss. Caramel found himself standing, somewhat reluctantly this time, in the doorway to Big Mac’s room.

“Somethin’ the matter, Caramel?”

The colt swallowed as the mellow voice spoke up behind him. “Well...” he began before taking a deep breath. “A few things. We’ve... slept in the same room before, but not the same bed, and...”

“And?”

“I’m scared.” The words came out as a whisper.

“An’ just what might have y’ scared, Caramel?”

“... What might happen. And... that you might not want it to happen...”

The red stallion sighed and draped his head over the tan pony’s neck. “Caramel, whatever might happen, ‘t ain’t gonna happen tonight, so that’s somethin’ Ah can reassure you ‘bout. Some other night when we’re alone, but not tonight. Second,” and this time Macintosh’s voice was also strained, “Ah’ve... spent some time with some fillies, if’n y’ catch m’ drift, and... Ah’m perfectly willin’ to do the same with you. Ah hope that helps a bit.”

There was a bit more silence as Caramel digested the words, then nervously, slowly, he lifted a hoof and brought it down inside Big Macintosh’s room. Then a second hoof. It got easier the more steps he took, until he was standing beside the bed.

Big Macintosh turned the covers down and slid under the sheets, then looked up at Caramel with hopeful eyes.

The colt bit his lip, and with a mental shrug, followed suit. The hug that nearly crushed the air from his lungs took him by surprise, along with the lick behind his ear. “Maaaac... You know I hate it when you do that...”

The red pony chuckled. “Ah know.”

“Mac... do you... do you love me?”

There was another short pause, mainly taken up with Caramel getting the back of his neck nuzzled. “Ah didn’t think it needed sayin’.”

The smaller colt took a breath. “Yeah... Yeah, you’re right.”

“Rise and shine, everypony!”

Caramel groaned, tried to plug his ears with his hooves, and rolled over to try to get a few more moments of peace.

He ended up unintentionally locking lips with his bedmate, who, judging by the kiss he got in return, didn’t mind in the least. “Ah see y’ got some sleep.”

“Yeah,” he grumbled, “some.”

“Breakfast’s on, come an’ get it!”

“How does she do that?” the tan colt griped plaintively. Big Mac just shrugged and nosed his companion out of the bed. Moments later, the stallion joined him and gave him another ear-lick. This time, Caramel just rolled his eyes and accepted that, no matter how much he complained, it was going to happen.

“Mornin’ big brother!” Apple Bloom called as the pair descended to the ground floor. “The mailmare already came by, and you’ve got a letter from cousin Braeburn!”

“Apple Bloom, what have we told you ‘bout opening the mail?” chided her big sister.

“... Not to...” the filly’s voice was small.

“Well, let’s see what Braeburn wants now,” Big Mac sighed as he unfolded the letter and read it silently.

“Well?” his older sister urged.

Macintosh shook his head. “He says he just got outta the hospital, an’ he’s movin’ to Ponyville. Wants t’ stay with us. Appleloosa’s got some bad memories for ‘im, now.”

The siblings exchanged a long look, while their guests looked on, perplexed.

“Suppose we better get the guest bedroom ready for ‘im, then...” Applejack trailed off.

Bitter Apple

The oldest two Apple siblings waited beside the Ponyville train station for their cousin Braeburn’s train to arrive. The entire building and route was new; with Celestia’s sudden glut of visits thanks to her protégé’s new home had come a swelling of tourists eager to discover what in Ponyville interested the Princess so much.

At the moment, though, neither Applejack nor Big Macintosh were sparing much thought to the economic changes of their little town. Instead, they were imagining the all-too-likely events that the hyperactive Appleloosan would set in motion when he arrived.

“Y’think he’ll hit on every single pony not related t’ him, like he did at th’ last family get-together?”

“Eeeeyup.”

Applejack sighed and lifted a hoof to hold her hat in place when the wind kicked up. “Wishin’ Caramel’d come along. Coulda used his cart to haul Braeburn’s things back.”

Macintosh flicked his hay stem to the opposite side. “He had work, sis.”

She slumped a bit, but gave her brother a look out of the corner of her eye. “I know that. Just... woulda been easier, is all.”

“Eeeeyup.”

“... You’re not lookin’ forward to this either, are ya.”

“Nnnnope.”

They lapsed into silence as they waited for their cousin’s arrival. The train seemed to be a little delayed, but they’d arrived early just in case, and now the only thing to do was be patient.

“Your coltfriend seems nice,” the filly offered suddenly.

Her brother lifted an eyebrow. “Y’ don’t say.”

Applejack seemed a little flustered at Big Mac’s refusal to comment further. “Well, he is! It was right gentlecoltly of him t’ come out an’ help with dinner that one night.”

Macintosh’s eyebrow ratcheted higher.

The orange filly glowered at him and stamped a hoof. “Y’ know what I’m gettin’ at, Big Macintosh!”

“Ah know,” he finally replied, turning his solemn gaze towards the tracks and the rapidly approaching spot on the horizon, “Ah’m just wonderin’ why you’re sayin’ this now, an’ not back when Ah started datin’ Caramel.”

His sister muttered something under her breath about “rock-headed big brothers who don’t know how to take an apology when it’s offered”, and he wisely decided to pretend he’d heard nothing.

Ten minutes later, the train pulled in, and the engineers unhitched themselves for a short break while a white colt dropped down from the station to bring the lead some water. Most of the activity went unnoticed by the passengers, and Applejack bit her lip as she tried to find her relative in the sudden influx.

“Ah see ‘im,” her brother’s voice rumbled in her ear, and she sighed in relief. “He’s comin’ this way, but...” Big Macintosh broke off with a frown.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

“Eeeeyup.”

Before she could ask for additional clarification, or for that matter any clarification at all, Braeburn managed to shuffle through the collection of ponies and stop right in front of them.

“Welcome t’ Pony... ville...” the filly’s voice, initially full of slightly-forced cheer, trailed off as she caught sight of her cousin.

He was missing his hat. That was the first noticeable difference between how he was now, and how she remembered him. His mane and tail looked slightly unkempt, as though he’d stopped bothering about how they looked - even Big Macintosh was known to drag a comb through his mane once a day!

His eyes, normally a bright green and full of annoyingly high spirits, looked darker, and there were faint rings around them, as though he wasn’t able to get a proper night’s sleep.

Then she saw his hind leg, and gulped.

From hoof to knee, it was surrounded by a cast.

Applejack tore her eyes from the injury back to Braeburn’s face, just in time to see his mouth twist into a sour smile. “Hurts worse’n a rattlesnake bite, cousin.”

“Ah’m sure it does,” Macintosh came to the rescue. “Where’s your things? Ah’ll help bring ‘em along.”

The bitter rictus stayed on the yellow colt’s face. “Back in Appleloosa, Big Macintosh. Left as soon as the doc let me outta the hospital. Don’t worry about the orchard, Applewood’s running it now. Probably better than I could, right?”

Applejack blinked, and glanced at her brother out of the corner of her eye and wished she had the same air of calm, not quite indifference he managed to muster. “So, Braeburn... I guess we can get y’ some toothpaste and suchlike from the store...” she began awkwardly as the trio slowly made their way to Sweet Apple Acres. “If’n y’ don’t mind me askin, what happened t’ ya?”

“It’s none of your business.”

Both Apple siblings took a wary glance at their relative, and upon seeing his flat stare, decided not to press the issue.

By the time the trio arrived at the farmhouse, the sun had almost set. “Big Macintosh, I’m gonna go make sure everything’s ready for Braeburn. Would y’ mind goin’ to the store an’ seein’ if they’re still open, an’ if they are, get - ” she stopped with a faint chuckle; her brother had already figured out where she was going and turned to leave.

“Eeeeyup.”

With Big Mac gone, she turned to her cousin. “Right, now I’m sure y’ remember where th’ guest room is? It’s back - ”

“And to the right, yeah. I can make it there myself,” he finished the sentence for her, and obstinately began to hobble down the hall.

“Careful there, y’ could hurt-” she began, and almost flinched back at the snarl her yellow cousin threw back over his shoulder.

“I’ll just go make dinner,” she finished quietly.

“Hey, there, big cousin!”

Braeburn gritted his teeth, then turned to face the speaker. “Hey there, Apple Bloom,” he said, forcing the words out calmly.

“What happened to yer leg?”

The colt swore mentally. She would ask about it. “Go t’ your room, Apple Bloom.”

The filly blinked. “B-but...”

“I said to get out!” he brayed, rearing back and startling his relative. To his twisted relief, she yelped and backed out of the doorway, spinning around and dashing away. The moment of enjoyment was spoiled almost as soon as it began, however, when his leg exploded into agonizing pain.

He barely had time to land back on his front hooves before his hind leg folded. “Buck it...” he grunted, tears in his eyes.

The yellow pony limped over to the door, shut it, locked it, and staggered back over to the bed before he collapsed onto it.

It’s all too much...

“Now hold your hay, little filly,” Applejack called just as her sister tore past her. Predictably, it had no effect - the orange filly figured there was at least a fifty percent chance that Apple Bloom was so upset that she just hadn’t heard. Sighing, the middle Apple checked to make sure that nothing could go wrong with the meal, and followed her sister up to their room.

Apple Bloom was sitting on her bed, face scrunched up tightly as she did her best not to cry.

“Now, I heard y’ get yelled at, Apple Bloom,” her big sister began, and Apple Bloom’s lip began to quiver.

“He... he was mean,” she finally choked out, sniffling in an attempt to hold back the tears.

Applejack nodded, putting a hoof on her sister’s back. “It’s okay t’ cry, sugarcube. ‘T ain’t nothin’ wrong with it.”

“I’m... I’m a big pony...” the pale yellow filly murmured. “Big ponies don’t... don’t cry.”

Her sister let out a snort of amusement, and Apple Bloom gave her a look that mingled hurt and anger. “Y’ sound just like Big Macintosh when he was a colt,” Applejack soothed her. “Why, one day he split a hoof tryin’ to applebuck a tree too big for ‘im, and we had to take him to th’ nurses. And all the while Granny Smith is tellin’ him it’s okay to scream if’n it hurts, and all he was doin’ was clenchin’ his teeth and shakin’ his head.”

“Really?” Apple Bloom perked up, staring up at her sister as she got caught up in the little story.

“Eeeeyup.”

Both sisters blinked, and Big Macintosh gave them a small smile from the doorway and a gesture for Applejack to continue. Flushing a bit now that her brother was listening in, she continued. “Well, your big brother was so intent on puttin’ on a brave face that he didn’t even flinch when th’ nurses put a brace over his hoof an’ told him it’d have t’ stay on for a few weeks!”

Apple Bloom looked over at her brother, her eyes wide in admiration. He was glad to see that her tears, while still pooling, were in no danger of getting worse. “Well, Ah seem t’ recall it slightly differently, sis,” he answered, still smiling at the young filly. “Ah seem t’ recall passin’ out just as the nurses went t’ work on my hoof.”

“Anyway!” Applejack hastily dragged the topic back towards her original point, “What I’m tryin’ to tell ya is that even a big pony like your brother or I can cry. It’s not somethin’ that you stop doin’ just ‘cause you grow up.”

Apple Bloom nodded thoughtfully, leaning against her sister’s side. “Cousin Braeburn was still mean...” she began, hesitantly.

“Ah’ll have a word or two with ‘im,” her big brother reassured her, as he exchanged a glance with Applejack. Their mingled gaze expressed relief that the youngest of them still had the rock-firm belief that her older siblings could fix anything.

“Braeburn, it’s time for dinner. C’mon out.”

No response.

Big Macintosh frowned at the door, then glanced over his shoulder. The food would be getting warm if he took much longer...

Fortunately, he had his ways. And being the oldest pony at Sweet Apple Acres - still able to work the farm, he added in mental apology to Granny - he knew a few tricks. For example, the guest bedroom door, locked or not, was still easy to get into if you knew to put your weight here, lean just so, and turn the knob in that way...

The door swung open with only a faint creak, and the red stallion smiled to himself. Still got it.

“Ah said, Braeburn, that dinner’s - ” he stopped.

The yellow pony was glaring hatefully up at him. “Do y’ always walk in where you’re uninvited, Big Macintosh?”

Big Mac narrowed his eyes. “Ah’ll go anyplace Ah like on my farm,” he said, making sure that his cousin caught the extra weight to the last two words. “And it’s right rude of y’ to miss dinner on th’ first night you’re here.”

They smaller colt stared up at his relative. He dearly wanted to tell Macintosh to buck off and not come back, just get the hay out of his life, but he was at the farm on sufferance from the rest of his family... “All right. I’m comin’. Just tell your sisters it might be a bit,” he grunted as he got to his feet.

As always, he put his weight on his back leg as though it were still uninjured, and as always he suppressed a hiss when it complained. Big Macintosh remained impassive, watching him without blinking an eye.

“What do you want?” Braeburn finally snapped at him.

“Ah want y’ t’ treat my sisters and your cousins like family, Brae,” came the reply. “Ah think y’ owe Apple Bloom an apology, ‘cause she didn’t deserve you snappin’ at her. And Ah’m makin’ sure you are comin’ to eat.”

The Appleloosan glowered at him, but obediently left the room, shuffling towards the dining room. “So I don’t have to treat you any better, then?” he muttered under his breath.

Big Macintosh frowned at him and rapped him sharply on his unbroken hind leg. “Watch your manners, Braeburn. Just ‘cause y’ got hurt and decided to move doesn’t mean y’ get free rein t’ walk over everyone here.”

The yellow colt gritted his teeth. “... Fine.”

Dinner was quiet. Apple Bloom was typically cheerful and ready to regale her family at a moment’s notice with the antics she’d gotten into with Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, along with what she’d learned in school. Tonight, though, she stayed quiet and shot the newcomer nervous glances.

At least he’d apologized before dinner started... Applejack thought to herself as she dug in. Given the looks her brother was giving her, he shared her thoughts.

Braeburn said as little as possible, something that all three siblings were thankful for.

Predictably, Granny Smith was the first to leave, citing her old bones and the need to get some sleep. The Apple siblings bid her a good night, while Braeburn just gave a sullen nod.

“So, Braeburn, just what are y’ plannin’ to do on the farm t’ earn your keep?” Applejack asked calmly once her grandmother was out of earshot.

The yellow colt’s ears flicked backwards, and he obstinately kept chewing.

“Ah think y’ ought to answer, cousin,” Big Mac added quietly. The newpony flicked him an angry look, but acquiesced.

“Well,” he grunted, tossing his head a bit, “I can cook. Don’t expect me t’ be able to lift anything heavy or be able to move around much. The doc back in Appleloosa said I was to take it easy.”

Apple Bloom’s eyes flicked from one relative to the other, and she shifted from hoof to hoof, clearly uncomfortable as the tension in the room rose.

It was broken when Applejack whickered loudly. “Suppose that’s good enough... so long as y’ don’t kill us all with your cookin’.”

Braeburn suddenly looked insulted, and Big Macintosh had to hide a smile at his cousin’s displeasure. “Ah think that’s enough talkin’ for me tonight. G’night, everypony, Ah’m goin’ to bed.”

The next morning found the entire family save Braeburn awake and in the kitchen sneaking something for breakfast rather than put up with him over the morning meal. Granny Smith, unaware of how unwelcome her grand-nephew was making himself, announced that she’d be visiting the spa to try to get some warmth back into her on these cold winter days.

Upon hearing her words, Apple Bloom immediately fetched one of her shawls to try to keep her warm for the walk.

“Thank you, dear,” the matriarch smiled down at her youngest grandchild. Apple Bloom puffed up her chest with pride, and held the door open for her grandmother.

“I reckon Apple Bloom’s goin’ to spend the rest of th’ day with her friends... I’ll keep an eye on ‘em. Anything you wanna do, Big Macintosh?”

The stallion nickered and flicked his hay stem. “Ah think Ah’ll do a quick once-over of th’ barn and then see if Caramel’s up t’ anything.”

Applejack nodded nonchalantly, though her brother spotted some tension between her shoulderblades.

Whether or not it was what she feared her brother would do with another colt, or in terror at just what the Cutie Mark Crusaders would get up to today, he wasn’t sure, and didn’t particularly care to find out.

“Ah suppose one of us ought t’ stay with cousin Braeburn,” Big Mac added regretfully. “Just in case somethin’ happens to ‘im.”

Both Applejack and Apple Bloom made a face of disgust. “How ‘bout we take turns? I’ll take the evenin’, if you’ll stick around for the rest of th’ mornin’. If’n that’s all right with you.”

“Eeeeyup.”

Big Macintosh had no sooner retreated to his room to make the bed and other small chores when he heard the clump and clatter of Braeburn’s cast and hooves on the stairs and hallway floor.

Sighing internally, he turned and raised an eyebrow at the yellow colt. “Somethin’ Ah can do for ya, cousin?”

His cousin didn’t answer him immediately, instead choosing to look over the room. “Just what d’ you have that ragged old thing for?” he finally spoke, pointing to a bedraggled and clearly well loved doll that sat by itself on a shelf.

“Ah beg your pardon?”

“That... stuffed pony. It’s not an ‘action figure’,” and Macintosh could almost see the sarcasm dripping from his guest, “and it’s horribly beat-up. Why keep it around?”

Big Macintosh glanced at the yellow pony, then to the slightly mangled doll, before finally looking out the window to the view of Ponyville and one house in particular. “Y’ think that just because somethin’s beat-up, it doesn’t deserve love?”

Braeburn opened his mouth, then after a few seconds of being unable to come up with a retort, shut it and turned to leave.

“Watch th’ stairs, cousin,” the red stallion called after him, secretly relieved that for once the colt’s motor mouth had failed him.

“Buck you, I can handle it!”

Big Macintosh turned back to the bed and finished pulling the covers up. “Well, if you’re sure...” He glanced up to see he’d been speaking to empty air.

Braeburn hobbled his way back to “his” room - not that it could really be called that, he thought sourly, remembering the ease with which the red pony had gotten in the previous night - and dropped back to the bed. He lay still for a few moments, then did his best to pull the blankets over and around himself.

I hate this place. I hate having to come out here. I hate being too scared to stay in my own town. I hate why my leg is broken...

“I hate those two ponies who broke my leg...”

And the worst part is, I don’t know why.

The Appleloosan shuddered. Even the covers didn’t seem to be enough to keep him warm any more. His hat certainly wasn’t. He’d left it back at... back at the orchard, a train ride away, along with a promise from Applewood to look after it, and to get it repaired in his absence.

The two thugs who’d broken his leg, cracked his ribs, and bruised his eye had added insult to injury by grinding his beloved hat into the dirt. He’d been unable to look at it when he’d first seen it in its sorry state. Much like its owner, he had admitted then, before trying to cover his tears with a hoof.

It’s all too much for me...

Winter Apples

Big Macintosh stared out over the snow-covered fields, his teeth working over the hay stem held between his lips. It wasn’t the best of habits, and it had led to several shouting matches between himself and Granny Smith when he’d first picked it up...

All right. Maybe it had mostly been Granny shouting at him while he looked for someplace to hide.

The strand bobbed a little as he chewed, and his eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he gazed off into the distance.

It was commonly held that the Apple stallion was a slow thinker. This may be true.

It was less widely-known that his hoofprints were all over Sweet Apple Acres’ paperwork - while Applejack was the face of the farm, he was the brains behind how it all ran; he chose which of the fields were to be planted and harvested, when the bills were paid, and where the fruits of the family’s labor were shipped.

Right now, that formidable, if cunningly disguised and packaged, mind was working on something far less important to Sweet Apple Acres’ future. This did not mean that it was treated with any less care, or examined any less minutely. Macintosh had not turned a struggling apple farm into the Equestria-famous plantation it was today by neglecting the details, no matter how small, and he was not about to change a working pattern now.

Braeburn’s gonna be trouble, ‘specially if he keeps that attitude of his for a while. Seein’ as how he’s not acting any better...

Suppose Ah can’t blame Jacks for tryin’ to keep out of the house. Or Apple Bloom either. Hay, if Jacks could fly Ah don’t think Ah’d be seein’ her except for meals since she’d be up at Dash’s all the time.

The stallion rubbed at his chin with a hoof. Ah’m in the same boat; more’n tempted to move over to Caramel’s, but Ah can’t just leave Granny by herself. Brae definitely doesn’t count. He sighed and bit down more firmly on the sprig of grass. ‘Course... Ah’d have to see if Caramel’d want me to, anyway.

That set off another train of thought that had him shift awkwardly on his hooves. Been a while since Ah saw ‘im... He frowned as he counted back through the days and weeks.

Horseapples. Last time... last time he came over was when Ah was sick.

The eldest of the Apple siblings sighed again as he pulled himself to his hooves. Caramel wouldn’t mind that it’d been so long, he knew. But Big Macintosh had been raised properly, which meant that there were formalities to follow.
Ah hope Applejack doesn’t find out, or Ah’ll never hear the end of this...

Grumbling, he set out towards Ponyville. First, he’d need to stop in at a shop, then hope that his coltfriend was home...

The hay in his muzzle bobbed in the air as he sauntered determinedly towards town. It still felt a little strange for him to have an anything-friend, it’d been so long. As he walked, the niggling feeling in the back of his mind got stronger. He hadn’t meant to neglect the yellow colt, it had just seemed to... happen.

He’d had to keep an eye on Braeburn, double-check the ledgers on Sweet Apple Acres, and Caramel himself had been busy with deliveries for Hearth Warming Eve. It’d all piled up, and now... well, now Macintosh just felt guilty.

The worst part was that he didn’t know exactly why. He and Caramel... they were a couple, right? They’d been... sort of together for a few months now.

He absently chomped on his hay, then stifled a whicker as he accidentally bit down on his tongue and cheek at the same time. They... he and Caramel were dating, right? Caramel’d asked him out, they’d gone to Appleloosa, they’d visited each others’ homes every once in a while...

The red stallion huffed noisily, his breath steaming out of his nostrils. The more he thought about it, the more the situation seemed to be “friends with benefits”. Without any benefits.

Big Macintosh came to a halt, frowning as he sifted through his memory. The last time he’d done anything intimate with anypony had been... years. Just after -

He winced and forced his mind away from the recollection. Since then.

Well, with his middle sister keeping an eye on the farm, his cousin, and his youngest sister and her friends for the day, he had the time to get this mess straightened out, one way or the other. The red pony stamped a hoof, if only to emphasize it to himself. By sunset, both he and Caramel would know how they stood with one another.

Coltfriends, or... just friends.

First, there was that stop before he “dropped by” Caramel’s. The bell on the door jingled as he shouldered his way into the florist’s, and the terminally bored-looking filly behind the counter perked up instantly at the sound.

“Big Macintosh! What brings you into my shop?” she called with a wide smile. The stallion returned it with a small grin of his own, grateful for the magically-created heat that kept the store warm throughout the year.

“Courtin’, Miss Junebug,” was his only reply, as he cast his eye across the varied blooms. To his mild surprise, the words came easily to his lips. He didn’t have trouble telling Caramel he... he... he was quite fond of the colt, but he’d never mentioned his attachment to anypony who wasn’t related to him...

He supposed that was a good sign.

Junebug, on the other hoof, perked right up. “Really now? Oh, my, well...” She gave him a sly grin, and he pretended not to see it as he nosed through the selection. “Who’s the lucky filly?”

That brought him up short. “Well, Ah... Ah would rather not say,” he finally nodded back at her.

Unfortunately, this only seemed to pique her interest further. “Well... what sort of flowers are you interested in? Rrrroses?”

Macintosh blew his breath out through his nose. For some reason, the way she’d trilled the “r” grated on his nerves; there was something about the lascivious tone, like she thought all he wanted was to get into Caramel’s saddle...

Junebug coughed, loudly, and he started. “Sorry, Ah was just thinkin’. No, miss, not roses today.”

“Well, if you’re sure...”

“Ah am,” he said with finality, finally finding a few sprigs that he found pleasant on his eyes when combined - and in the case of one of them, a very familiar sight indeed.

“Huh. Some white carnations, some strawberry tree branches, and some apple blooms?” She looked at his selection, then up at the towering stallion, and finally shrugged before wrapping them in paper. “Interesting little message you’re sending there.”

Big Macintosh gave her a blank look as she finished tying a small ribbon around the middle of the bouquet. The florist sighed as she pushed the bundle back across the counter, and leaned back to recite from memory, “white carnations mean faithfulness, the blossoms of the strawberry tree are given to the one you love, and the flowers from an apple tree mean you prefer that pony. She must be quite the catch.”

The red pony nodded silently as she finished speaking and rang up the total, then blinked when she winked and knocked a few bits off the final price.

“Before you say anything, the apple stems are from Sweet Apple Acres, so you get a bit of a discount as my supplier... which you were going to ask for anyway, weren’t you?” When he refused to rise to her bait, she just laughed and kept talking. “Besides, it’s about time you got a fillyfriend, Big Macintosh! Every poor mare’s been keeping her heart aflutter with thoughts of you - I hope you don’t mind breaking too many dreams of theirs!”

“... Eeeeyup.” Big Macintosh dropped the bits onto the counter, picked up the flowers, and left without another word.

Once safely outside, he let his eyebrows knit together in worry. Ah’m sure Ah’m doin’ the right thing... right?

Doubt chewing at the back of his mind, he set out into the snowy streets of Ponyville.

The chill of the air mirrored the chill in Big Macintosh’s chest. He liked Caramel, he really did. If he didn’t, well, he wouldn’t be going to to visit the colt with flowers, now would he?

He glanced down at his mouthful and frowned - the cold wasn’t being kind to them. With luck, he’d be at Caramel’s in a few moments, in the warm, and his pony would like the gift. He flicked his eyes up to check the road and make sure he wasn’t about to run in to somepony...

Oh buck.

Not her.

Not now.

Big Macintosh did not need this.

And she was coming towards him and oh buck she just saw me too what now oh Celestia what if she thinks the flowers are for her...

The magenta filly stopped several paces away from him, and slowly looked him over, from hooves to mane. “Big Macintosh.”

He swallowed, muzzle dry, seconds ticking past before he spoke around his gift to Caramel. “Cheerilee.”

The only sound came from the breeze rushing past and the sound of other ponies’ hooves on the cobbles. Somehow, none of the noises seemed entirely there; they were all muffled, indistinct, distant.

There was only Macintosh, and his ex-fillyfriend from years ago.

“You’re looking well, Macintosh.”

The red stallion gulped again. “You... you too, Cheerilee.”

Her eyes didn’t leave his. She’s seen the flowers, he knows she has, and in the depths of her eyes he could see a flicker, a memory. Old, old hurts, knowledge of what could have been, almost was, never will be. He knew she’s seeing the same thing in his.

“Going to see someone?” Her words, her tone, light. As though it was the most natural thing in the world to see him carrying a small bouquet to somepony not her never her never her again and to meet with him in the street avoided her for so long and chat always coming to town when she was teaching about how things were.

His teeth, of their own volition, began their habitual chewing on his mouthful, and it was only the knowledge that it was a present for Caramel that made him halt mid-motion. “E-” his voice cracked, and he tried again. “Eeeeyup.”

Cheerilee took one step forward, and the largest stallion in Ponyville shrank backward, his ears plastered to his skull.

“Is... she prettier than me?” There was only the faintest quaver to her words, iron control keeping her tone light and almost level, her gaze boring into him can’t run can’t hide no place to go and keeping him trapped in the middle of an open street.

Big Macintosh flinched, tried to gasp for air, his sides heaving as he forced his lungs to work, the flowers in his mouth bobbing as he clenched his eyes and dropped his head to look away. He couldn’t lie to her, he never had. Not even when things... when things had been at their worst and he didn’t know everything he felt, only that he had been full of pain and he’d needed to lash out, and she’d been there, taken the brunt of his angry tirades until his words had become too much and her patience too thin.

She’d been the first to say what they both knew, the day that she left. She’d kept it short, simple, to the point. Just like him. “It’s not working out, Mac. I’m sorry.”

His ears flicked once, quickly, as he heard her take another step. “Is she younger than me, Macintosh?”

“‘T... ‘t ain’t a filly Ah’m goin’ t’ see, ‘Lee,” he forced out, past a mouth that didn’t seem to work right and in a voice that felt like a stranger’s.

He heard the sharp intake of her shocked breath, the sudden stillness, and finally his paralysis broke and he forced himself to pass her by, far closer than he thought he could dare, and yet not far enough away, the warmth from her body striking him like a blow, brushing over him like a lover’s caress, bringing back more memories, how close she’d laid next to him, how she’d felt when they touched, when they’d moved together in passion and need, and he shuddered again when he passed her and the cold winter air folded around him.

“Ah... Ah got t’ be goin, ‘Lee,” he gasped out as he turned a corner, the nearest one, taking any way out he could get, the fastest route to escape her presence and the feelings the mare brought back.

Caramel found the red pony an hour later waiting on the steps of the tan colt’s home, ice riming the petals of the frost-frozen bouquet and the stallion shivering despite himself.

“Mac? Come on, let’s get inside,” he spoke as he pushed the door open and shifted out of the way to let the larger pony through. He wasn’t prepared for the red pony to drop his mouthful on the floor and nearly squash them underhoof as he collapsed onto his partner, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Mac? What... what’s wrong?”

Big Macintosh simply flinched and clung tighter to Caramel, burying his broad nose in the brown mane and clutching the other pony to him like a lifeline. Giving up, the colt settled for making soothing noises and stroking at Macintosh’s mane and neck, nuzzling and kissing along the taut muscles in an attempt to soothe his friend.

It took longer than he thought, and by the end of it Big Macintosh was sitting disconsolately on his couch, but Caramel finally managed to pry the stallion away from him and get the abused floral arrangement in water. “Now... what happened,” he asked again as he slid next to the larger pony and rested his head on the stallion’s neck.

Big Mac took a deep breath, held it, and let it out in an explosive sigh. “Ah... when Ah was buyin’ the flowers, miss Junebug asked what filly I was courtin’.” At Caramel’s nod, he steeled himself and continued. “Ah didn’t have the... the guts to say Ah wasn’t meetin’ a filly,” and his words were tinged with venom; either directed at himself, or the situation he’d been in, Caramel couldn’t tell. “And then, on my way here, Ah ran into... into m’ first fillyfriend.”

Caramel remained silent, merely nodding again and rubbing at his coltfriend’s tensed shoulders.

“It... Ah was reminded of things Ah’d tried t’ forget...” he took a rasping breath. “Ah’m not sure if’n Ah’m doin’ the right thing...”

The tan colt jerked back, feeling like Macintosh had struck him across the face with a hoof. “The right thing...?” he began, knowing what his friend was getting into.

Big Macintosh nearly crushed Caramel with the strength of his embrace. “My sister wasn’t too thrilled with me bein’ with ya. Ah can’t mention Ah’m interested in a colt to a filly who’s almost a stranger, and Ah nearly broke down in front of my first lover...” The red stallion squeezed his eyes shut and burrowed more tightly against his companion. “At least... at least Ah could tell her Ah was seein’ a colt, even if Ah couldn’t say who...”

“I... see...” Caramel whispered, his stomach doing flips as he was held... and his uncertainty turning into shock, then panic as Big Macintosh began to rub against him in a distinctly different way, hooves starting to roam places that he’d never had another pony touch before. “Mac... what are you doing...?” he continued, voice only slightly louder, but tinged with worry.

The red stallion didn’t answer, except for pressing himself closer and nibbling at the smaller pony’s ear. Caramel gasped, then grit his teeth and pushed himself away, standing up and taking several steps away from the couch. “Enough, Mac.”

Big Macintosh blinked, staring up at the tan colt in hurt confusion. “But... Ah...”

Caramel stomped a hoof. “No. You’re not... you’re not doing that for the right reasons. You’re just like I was in Appleloosa, not thinking past what you want now!”

The eldest Apple recoiled at the glare the smaller pony was giving him, and curled into a tight ball. “Ah... Ah was just...”

“I don’t care what you ‘were just’. It’s been a long day. I’m going to bed. You...” Caramel’s voice softened, “are going to stay right where you are, Mac. Just... get some rest. You need it.”

Macintosh nodded meekly and closed his eyes as he rested his head on a pillow. Ah was just doin’ what... what... I did with other fillies after Cheerilee left... He nearly sobbed into the fabric as he realized what had almost happened.

Ah almost used Caramel to try t’ forget how much it all hurt...

He lifted his head to gaze sorrowfully at the door the other pony had vanished through. “Ah’m sorry... Y’ deserve better’n that... better’n me,” he murmured before he closed his eyes in an effort to nap.

His sleep was a long time coming.

Big Macintosh’s nostrils twitched at the scent of coffee, and he raised his head to look blearily around the brightly-lit room.

Caramel sat across from him, a weary smile on his face. “Better?”

“Ah... Ah’m not sure...”

The tan colt nodded. “Take a drink, then a shower. You’ll feel better.”

Macintosh nodded, gulping down the hot liquid and wincing as it scorched his tongue. “Caramel, ‘bout last night...”

“Shower, Mac.”

The stallion bobbed his head and slid gracelessly off the couch, wincing as he got to his hooves and muscles protested at being forced into an unusual sleeping arrangement. “Ah’ll see you in a bit, Caramel,” he called over his shoulder as he stepped into the shower.

He was entirely unprepared for another set of hooves to wrap around his middle and begin to rub. “C-caramel!”

“You said you’d see me in a bit,” came the reply, a bubble of laughter lurking in the colt’s voice. “You just didn’t say when...”

“But... last night...”

Teeth nibbled delicately on the stallion’s ear, and he shivered despite the temperature of the water. “Last night was last night. I’m doing this for different reasons...” Caramel did laugh this time. “And you are too.”

Big Macintosh sauntered back through the front gate of Sweet Apple Acres, and his sister took one look at the enormous, stupid grin on his face and shook her head. “Well, it’s ‘bout time!” she called at his retreating hindquarters, to which he just snorted and held his head higher.

Was m’ brother walkin’ funny? … Must be my imagination. She shook her head and went back to the snowball fight she somehow had gotten dragged into by her sister.

Sweetened Apples

It was a wonderful day; the birds were shining, the sun was singing...

Er... whoops. Got that backwards. Caramel chuckled as he made his way past slush and mud-covered roads, then resumed grinning ear-to-ear and whistling a happy tune... terribly off-key. His horrible luck clearly extended to how well he learned the musical arts.

Nevertheless, he was having a wonderful day, even if he was late to work. Very late. Very, very late.

If he hadn’t had such a track record of doing his best, he’d have been fired long ago. As it stood, however, he was going to have a heck of an explanation to give to his boss...

“Morning, Burl!” he practically sang as he slid through the back door of the Equestrian Postal Service office. The bulky pegasus gave him a sour look and grunted.

“It’s fifteen past noon, Caramel. Where the buck were y-” he broke off as he got a closer look at his employee, then covered his face with a hoof. “Right, right, he finally got around to it... just... Look, Derpy already got most of your morning shift covered, so I’m just going to dock your pay and forget this ever happened, so long as you get a crate of farm tools we got in this morning to Sweet Apple Acres on the double.”

Caramel had just opened his mouth to thank him when Burl raised a hoof again.

“Don’t. It’s the heaviest thing to come into the office all week, and you’re not going to get help with it. Once you’re done with that, you might as well go home since Derpy handled everything else for you. And if you see her, be sure to thank her. Even if your docked pay is going to her instead.”

“Yoooooou got it boss!” the tan pony chirped as he spun and dashed out to the loading dock.

Burl groaned and mashed his face against the nearest countertop. “Celestia. He’s going to be like that every time, isn’t he.”

Caramel kept on grinning as he hauled the heavy box up onto his cart despite the weight and the sweat running off him... though he did frown slightly when it creaked alarmingly underneath the package. When the wagon made no further noises, he smiled again and fastened himself between the shafts and started pulling.

And started pulling.

And pulling...

Finally he thought to look at the wheels, and grumbled when he realized that the chocks were keeping them firmly locked down. A light kick to knock them out of the way, and the colt found it much easier to get going.

He’d just pulled out from behind the building when a box dropped out of the sky and landed right on his head, stunning him for half a second. Without even glancing up, he cheerfuly scooped up the container and held it up. “Dropped this, Derpy! And thanks for covering for me this morning!”

The grey pegasus plucked the box from his hoof with a faint grumble, but nodded to him all the same. “You’re welcome...”

Caramel shook his head. “No, really! Thanks! I owe you for that... so, how about I buy you muffins for a week?”

“I’m not that easy to bribe, Caramel,” she groused, and with that, she was off into the clouds again. Shrugging, the earth pony kept plodding along, the heavy load on his cart making it slow going.

He’d made it a quarter of the way to his destination, idly daydreaming of Big Macintosh the entire time, when a second carton introduced itself to his skull. Given how dizzy he felt afterwards, the colt woozily estimated this one to weigh about twice as much as the previously dropped package.

“Here you go, Derpy,” he slurred, pushing it along the ground as the grey mailmare swooped down to reclaim her charge.

“Thanks,” she continued dryly, and with a bit of effort, heaved herself into the air again.

Caramel shook his head a few times before the world righted itself, and his irrepressible good cheer had him sauntering along and whistling happily despite his workload.

The third time he was forewarned by a large shadow, but the “warning” lasted all of a second before the small, yet incredibly heavy container introduced itself to him at top speed.

This time, he unintentionally did a near-perfect imitation of a pancake as the crate slid off him to land in the muddy slush.

“... Ow.”

He glanced up at the sound of whirring wings, and squinted a few times. “Derpy... there are two of-” A few more blinks and the pegasi resolved into one. “Oh. Better. You need to be more careful, you could have really hurt someone with this...”

He peered at the label.

“Delivery of ten kilograms of lead, from Canterlot University to miss Twilight Sparkle...?” Caramel shook his head.

“I need to be more careful? What about you? I had to do three times the work today, Caramel, Dinky’s getting worried!”

That made the tan pony flush and paw at the muddy ground, ignoring the splatters already covering his chest and legs. “I’m sorry. I... guess this means we’re not meeting up to chat over coffee later tonight?”

The wall-eyed pegasus buried her face in her hooves. “Not today, ponyboy.”

“But it’s our weekly tradition!”

“Look, if you want to make it up to me...” she huffed, her irritation cooling, “then drop this pack of orders off at Quills and Sofas. It’s the last thing I need to do besides take that lump to the library, and we’ll call it even, okay?”

The colt perked right up. “Okay! Just put it, uh...”

Derpy solved the problem by shoving the sheaf into his mouth before clutching at the crate full of lead and trundling into the air, her wings struggling from the weight.

“‘R y’ shre y’ dn’t wnt m’ t’ gt ‘t?” the colt mumbled around his mouthful. His friend eyed him, snatched the packet from his mouth with her own, and raised an eyebrow.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to get it?” he tried again, and was rewarded by her cramming the now-crumpled envelope back into his muzzle.

“No, I got it. Now get going, Caramel,” she called back over her shoulder as she slowly headed off towards the library.

With his mouth full, all Caramel could do was hum, but he was humming at the top of his lungs and ignoring the annoyed glances he was getting from the ponies he passed. With the fantastic spirits he was in, there was a better than even chance he hadn’t even seen their glares.

It took a bit of effort to push against the inertia of his cart, but he managed to slow it to a halt in front of Quills and Sofas and unhitch himself without too much trouble. He gave a quick glance at his mud-covered pelt, and decided to announce himself by knocking a hoof against the doorframe as opposed to heading inside and tracking the slush everywhere.

“Mail, Mister Davenport!”

“Ah, thank you... Caramel...” he trailed off as he caught sight of the dirt-coated mailpony.

The tan earth pony just grinned at him, the smile stretching the corners of his mouth.

“Are you... all right?”

Caramel bobbed his head exuberantly, his expression unchanging. “Eeeeyup!”

Davenport had to blink at that one. “‘Eeeeyup’? … Never mind. Caramel, you’re covered in mud - did you slip and get run over by your cart again?”

“Nah, Derpy and I had another fight, that’s all!” he chuckled.

The storeowner shook his head. “You two fight a lot for best friends... are you sure you’re not sweet on her?” One of Davenport’s eyebrows lifted at his visitor.

For some reason he couldn’t fathom, this just made his mailpony laugh hard enough to fall over backwards into the muddy road and roll around. Caramel’s constant chuckles quickly got on his nerves, and after five minutes of unceasing chortles he nudged the giggling maniac with a hoof.

“All right, all right. You’ve got mail to deliver, now be about it. At least, I assume that huge box is a delivery...” With that, the owner of Quills and Sofas turned and slammed the door behind him.

His sides still heaving with merriment, Caramel dragged himself back to his cart and strapped himself in. His amusement with the joke that Davenport didn’t quite get added to his already high spirits, and as he wended his way to Sweet Apple Acres, he broke out into song.

It was fortunate that there was no glassware nearby.

Half an hour later, the deliverypony was at the gate to Sweet Apple Acres, his voice warbling and cracking as it rose through the air. He let the last few notes of the “song” die off as he unhitched the wagon and slid the bulky box to the ground, and put his weight into scooting it towards the door.

Eventually, he just gave up and left it by the main gate. Big Macintosh can get it, no trouble. Speaking of...

“Maaaaac! Are you home?” the colt called as he knocked on the door. His ears perked as he heard some sort of horrible clatter, and guilt rose. He hoped he hadn’t interrupted his coltfriend in the middle of something, like... Hmmm. Sounded like saucepans falling. Was Mac cooking?

It took a little longer than he expected, but finally the door was pulled open, and the cheerfully smiling pony was greeted by...

“Braeburn?”

The yellow colt glared at his muddy visitor. “Who the buck are you?”

“I... I thought you’d gone back to Appleloosa!”

Braeburn’s eyebrows met for a few short seconds as he thought, and then realization struck. “Hold on a minute... Caramel?” The cowpony grinned, suddenly, and Caramel took a step backward in concern - it wasn’t a nice smile. “How’ve you been? Still trottin’ on the heels of my cousin, hopin’ he’ll put a move on ya?”

The tan earth pony retreated another step, and Braeburn advanced a little. “I... he...”

“Somethin’ wrong, Caramel? Surely a coltcuddler like you’d have no trouble findin’ somepony t’ keep you warm at night! Or did my cousin finally wise up that a slip of a thing like you’d never be able to satisfy ‘im?”

Caramel spluttered, and Braeburn leaned against the doorframe with a sly smirk on his muzzle, putting on a rakish air despite the cast wrapped around his leg.

“Somethin’ got your tongue? Heh, I know somethin’ I’d be willing t’ use to keep your mouth shut... Won’t take too long, either, we can get right at it while my cousin’s down in Ponyville sellin’ apples off that stand...”

Something snapped, and Caramel lashed out with a hoof, smacking the yellow colt opposite him across the face. “You... you... rrgh!”

The Appleloosan yelped in surprise and rocked back a half step... just in time for the irate, earth-encrusted pony to spin on his forehooves and buck the door shut in Braeburn’s face.

“Ow...” he whimpered, and then the door slammed full-force into his nose. “AGH! Buck you, Caramel!” he screeched, clutching his muzzle between his hooves.

The mailpony was long gone.

He hadn’t bothered to bring his cart; he’d left it back at the farm, a small part of his mind noted, but he was so angry that he didn’t care; that same tiny, calm part reminded him that it’d still be there when he came back.

No, he wasn’t angry; he was incensed. He was making his way back to the center of Ponyville, and the market stalls, and he was moving faster than he’d ever made the trip before.

He was driven.

Braeburn didn’t know what he was talking about!

His muddy hooves churned up divots of earth and snow, and more than once his legs slipped out from under him and sent him for a tumble, but in less time than he thought possible he found himself back in the town square. His eyes scanned the market until he found his target, and the small, angry, dirty colt clomped up to the Apple family’s stand with fire in his eyes.

“Caramel? What th’ hay are you doin’, lookin’ like that?” Applejack asked in shock. Big Macintosh simply stared down at his friend in astonishment.

Astonishment that turned into an outright incredulous stupor as the mailpony reached up with a hoof and hauled the red stallion’s head down for a fiery kiss.

Applejack gaped as her brother and his coltfriend made out in the middle of Ponyville, and flushed a bit when she realized the scene was attracting attention. For half a moment she tipped her hat down to cover her eyes, and then with a sigh, prodded Macintosh in the side. When that failed to get a response, she did the same to Caramel.

Finally, the pair’s lips parted, and she breathed a sigh of relief... one that turned out to be premature as Caramel turned to face her. “Applejack, I’m borrowing your brother for a bit. That all right?”

“Uh... sure?” she fumbled out, still taken off-balance by the recent turn of events.

Both Apples were utterly taken aback when the small colt reached up, gripped Big Macintosh’s harness with his teeth, and proceeded to bodily drag the stallion towards the mailpony’s home. Big Macintosh blinked a few times, but put up no resistance, and shrugged good-naturedly at his sister as he was hauled away.

Once they were out of sight, and everypony’s attention returned to her humble stall, Applejack planted her face on the countertop, pushed her hat over her eyes again, and groaned.

Big Macintosh stared up at the ceiling, chest heaving, and thinking of nothing in particular until the shower stopped running, and a much less grimy pony peeked out of the bathroom.

“Mac? Are you okay?”

Caramel didn’t get a reply, and he gave his friend a gentle, concerned nuzzle to the neck.

“Mac?”

The red stallion let the air out of his lungs in an explosive rush. “Ah think Ah pulled somethin’.”

The tan pony chuckled ruefully and curled up next to the Apple. “Sorry about that, Mac.”

“So, what got y’ so fired up, anyhow?”

The pause that followed that question was long enough that Big Mac lifted his head and gave Caramel a worried look.

“Sorry,” he said, giving his coltfriend a lopsided, half-hearted smile. “I had to make a delivery to Sweet Apple Acres.”

Macintosh’s eyebrows lifted for a moment, and then he nodded. “Ah take it y’ ran into Braeburn.”

The way the good-natured, if normally slightly depressed, features on the other colt’s face suddenly twisted into an annoyed frown only confirmed the red pony’s guess.

“Ah’m sorry, Caramel,” he said quietly. The deliverypony only shook his head.

“There’s nothing you need to apologize for,” he replied, and the bite on the one word made it quite clear that, while Caramel didn’t hold Macintosh responsible for his cousin’s misbehavior, he wasn’t going to sit back and take it the next time he met Braeburn.

Big Macintosh nodded and leaned back, reveling in the relative peace of being with his coltfriend... who had just kissed him... in front of everyone in Ponyville.

“Oh, buck,” he whispered. Caramel lifted an eyebrow, and in reply he kept going. “Not that Ah’m complainin’ about the kiss or anything, but...”

“But...?”

“In the middle of the market?” Big Mac finished. Caramel blinked, then felt the blood drain from his face.

“Oh, buck me...”

Despite himself, the Apple chuckled. “Ah just did. Want ‘nother round?”

The tan colt shot him an evil glare, and he clammed up. “Oh, buck, oh buck... Mac, I wasn’t thinking... Oh buck everyone in the entire town’ll know now...” When Big Macintosh failed to have any noticeable reaction, Caramel gave him another long stare. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

Big Macintosh rolled off the bed and plucked his hay stem off the end table before dropping back down next to his companion. “Aside from my ex-fillyfriend findin’ out... Nnnnope.”

Caramel gave him another annoyed look, and the red stallion sighed and continued.

“Ain’t nothin’ Ah can do t’ stop ‘em talkin’. Just give ‘em a little time, they’ll run out o’ interestin’ gossip ‘bout us. All we’ve got t’ do until then is just keep on goin’ like nothing’s happened and they’ll stop talkin’ all the sooner.”

The smaller colt sighed. “I guess you’re right...”

His coltfriend gave him another smile and started to nibble at his partner’s ears, causing them to twitch again.

“Maaaaaac... why do you keep doing that? You know I hate it...”

The small smile on Big Macintosh’s lips froze, then slipped away. “Ah’m... Ah’m sorry. It’s... It’s how Ah show Ah like a pony. Ah used t’... t’ do that when Ah was... Ah was with Cheerilee...” He swallowed. “Except she liked it...” He dragged a hoof across the sheets, looking everywhere but at Caramel. “If... if y’ want, Ah’ll stop...”

Caramel watched his pony paw at the bed uncomfortably, and let out a quiet sigh. “I should have known...” At Macintosh’s hurt look, he leaned in towards the larger pony and nibbled up his neck. “If it’s that important to you...” He took another breath. “You can keep doing it, okay? Just... remember, you owe me for it.”

“Ah owe you?” Big Mac chuckled, a deep, relieved rumble from the depths of his chest, and the mailpony avenged himself by flicking his tail across the stallion’s face.

“That’s right, you do! Remember, I own your flank!”

Big Macintosh gave the smaller colt a strange smile, and Caramel felt his heart lurch. “Ah’ll remember that... but Ah think it’s time we went and put on a little show for th’ town’s waggling tongues... Plus Applejack’s probably wonderin’ where Ah went and is ‘bout ready to buck your door down again.”

Caramel groaned and scrubbed at his face with a hoof. “I suppose so... hey, Mac?”

“Eeeeyup?”

The colt paused for a second before continuing. “Who... which one of us is going to move in with the other?”

The grass stem in the red pony’s mouth bobbed a few times as he chewed in thought. “Ah don’t think it much matters right now... Ah don’t want t’ leave Sweet Apple Acres, and Ah’m sure you’d rather not be in the same house as cousin Braeburn...” Macintosh grunted sourly. “Not that Ah can blame y’ there, most days Ah don’t want to either. Suppose it’s somethin’ t’ think about, though. We’ll work it out when th’ time comes.”

“Yeah...” Caramel answered as he hauled himself to his feet. “Now where’d your harness g- how did it get on the ceiling fan?!”

Big Macintosh refrained from making a comment, though the temptation to say something about a small, angry, and attractive colt who might have had something to do with it was high. Instead, he settled for shrugging into it and heading towards the front door with his companion following behind.

True to Macintosh’s prediction, Applejack was indeed waiting for them and tapping a hoof impatiently. Caramel did his best to ignore the few gawkers who were inconspicuously lurking about, with varying degrees of success.

“Well, it took th’ pair o’ ya long ‘nough! Big Macintosh, we got t’ be gettin’ back to the house, it’s gettin’ late an’ Granny an’ Apple Bloom’ll be wonderin’ ‘bout us!”

“Um... have a good night,” Caramel said. “I’ll be by to pick up my cart sometime tomorrow morning...”

Big Macintosh nodded and winked at the tan earth pony and leaned in to nibble at his ears again. The deliverypony sighed and leaned into the gesture, hiding his discomfort at being such a spectacle. He was thus completely unprepared for, and taken aback, when Big Mac’s tongue slid down to lick at the horseshoe mark on his flank.

“M-Mac...”

“Big Macintosh! You leave yer colt alone right now, we’ve got t’ get home!”

“Eeeeyup,” he agreed, and with a smile followed his sister towards Sweet Apple Acres, leaving behind a rather dazed, if uncomplaining, earth pony.

Powder Blue Wings

“He did what?!” boggled Rainbow Dash, her jaw dropping in sheer shock.

“I told ya, he went and dragged m’ brother off to his house in front o’ everypony in town!”

The rainbow-maned pegasus blinked a few times, trying to imagine the scene - shy, flighty Caramel, stamping up to a stallion who was a few hands higher and - she broke off, blushing. “I... wow. That is totally, uh...”

“Y’ wouldn’t think he’d have had th’ guts for it?”

“I’m more amazed Big Macintosh let ‘im!”

Applejack coughed and rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling of the barn. “Uh... yeah. Say, Dash, I was thinkin’...”

“Yes...?” The cerulean filly puffed out her wings and stretched them lazily, watching motes of dust dance in the morning sunlight. She was well aware that her companion was trying to change the subject, but in her current contented state was too lazy to fight it.

The earth pony scuffed her hoof along the floor, stirring up the hay. “Well... my brother’s gonna inherit the farm when Granny... passes on.”

Rainbow Dash flexed one wing, then the other, and nodded slowly as the orange earth pony spoke. “Yeah, I know. Hay, everypony in Ponyville knows your brother runs the place!”

“Yeah, well...” Applejack trailed off, then coughed. “Looks like he’s not gonna be continuin’ th’ family line, if’n you follow my meanin’.”

“Soooo...?” the pegasus shrugged, making a gesture with a hoof to urge her friend to keep talking.

Applejack sighed and wiped out the patterns she’d scraped into the dirt underneath the matted hay. “What happens if’n somethin’ happens to m’ brother? Th’ farm goes t’ me, and, well...” she gave a rueful chuckle as she raised her eyes to her partner. “I’m in th’ same boat he is.”

The blue pegasus tapped her hoof impatiently. “Get to the point already!”

The barn sank into silence for a few moments.

“Applejack?”

“I want t’ adopt a foal.”

~~~~

Rarity jerked her head up as a cry of “WHAT?!” rattled Carousel Boutique’s windows, just in time to finish ruining a perfect row of stitching. “I do say... wasn’t that Rainbow Dash’s voice, Opal?”

When her cat gave no reply aside from the usual haughty stare, and there were no further outbursts, the unicorn bowed her head and began to unpick the threads, sighing in annoyance.

There was always something.

~~~~

“I can’t believe this! You want to adopt? When were you going to ask me about this?”

Applejack glowered across the barn. “I’m tellin’ ya now! ‘Sides, I’ve got...” she broke off, took a breath, and slumped. “I want t’ tell you ‘bout her first.”

“‘Her’?” Rainbow Dash crossed her hooves as she hovered in midair.

“She’s... she’s been sneakin’ apples from the orchard all winter, if not longer. Apple Bloom said she’s been hidin’ out in a... place where most adults wouldn’t be lookin’ for her. Most of ‘em don’t even know the place exists. ‘Parently she goes there after school to hide out an’ sleeps there. Been spendin’ all winter in a windy little shack.”

“Soooo...?”

“Dash... I’m talkin’ ‘bout Scootaloo.”

Silence.

“Dash?”

The blue filly’s hooves touched ground. “She’s been... all winter?” Her voice was almost a whisper, and her eyes were large and horrified.

Applejack nodded awkwardly.

“Buck it, why didn’t you tell me, AJ? Why didn’t anypony?”

“Nopony knew. A few days ago I managed to get Bloom to tell me. I’d been wonderin’ for a while, even followed Scootaloo out to their ‘clubhouse’, but didn’t have any proof.”

“Right then.” The rainbow-maned pegasus scowled and stamped a hoof. “When you’re going to go in to get the paperwork filled out, I’m gonna be right there next to ya.”

“Dash...”

Rainbow Dash shook her head. “I mean it. She’s... horseapples, AJ, she’s my biggest fan, and... I can’t just leave her out there!”

“I meant t’ say...” the farmpony tried again, picking her words carefully, “that if’n you’re with me, well... it’s kinda makin’ our little arrangement here official.”

A slow flush creeped across the blue mare’s face. “Oh. … Oh.”

“Now, I don’t mind, but... I rather thought y’ might. Just sayin’.”

A few moments passed while the pegasus thought furiously, and then with a shake of her head she returned to her normal rowdy self. “I’ll deal with it when it happens, that’s what!”

“So... how ‘bout we head on over to talk to the mayor ‘bout the paperwork we’ll need t’ pick up?” There was a faint smile playing over Applejack’s lips.

“You totally planned this,” her friend grumbled.

~~~~

Blue. So blue.

He kicked off the cloud and fell, eyes staring up into the sky as he dropped through the spotty cloud layer, spinning slowly, feeling the air whisper past his body, then rush through his wings and mane as he picked up speed.

He loved the sky.

He loved the colors, the ever-shifting hues. From stormy grey, to the deep, resplendent blue it was now, to the light-sprinkled darkness of night, he loved them all. He loved the storms, the stillness, the gentle breezes, every way the wind could blow sang in his heart.

“Soarin’. You... well, some of us have started to worry about you. You need...” Spitfire had paused to take a breath, and continued on, awkwardly, reciting the official policy. One that he’d helped write, never once expecting it to be turned back on him. “It is the decision of the Wonderbolts’ head trainer and manager that you will be taking a three week leave of absence for rest and recuperation, effective immediately.”

He’d blinked, dumbfounded. He understood the reasons, but even so, he tried arguing. “But... Spitfire... I’m fine. I’m perfectly healthy, I’ve kept up with everyone in training, I’ve been helping with practice...”

She shook her head. “That’s just it. You’ve been working... well, I’m guessing something like seventy hours a week, if not more. You’ll wear yourself out, and... Soarin’, you’re getting-”

He’d broken her off there. “Right. I’ll just get my bits and go.” He couldn’t disguise the bitterness in his voice - oh, he knew why she did it, but it still stung.

The Wonderbolt lifted his head, staring unseeing at the rapidly approaching ground, and with instinct honed over years of work, flipped his wings open and twisted, pulling out into a perfectly even glide several hundred feet above the treetops.

“I’m not trying to force anything on you, Soarin’...”

“Horseapples. You are, but you know you don’t have a choice in the matter.”

She’d smiled, a touch sadly. “That’s right. Just like you don’t.”

He’d rolled his eyes as he finished pulling his uniform off and hanging it neatly in his locker. “So,” he began as neutrally as he could, “what sort of ‘relaxation’ do you have in mind for me?”

The flame-colored pegasus had coughed. “It’s... it’s at your discretion, Soarin’. I don’t have to tell you to go anywhere or do anything. That’s kind of the point.”

“... I guess I’ll go get some apple pie and think about it.”

“That’s the spirit!”

He’d given her an annoyed glare as he trotted out of the building and made his way to the edge of Cloudsdale.

The thermals, carefully cultivated by the weather team, caught his wings and carried him higher as he aimed himself towards a small town that, if memory served, had one of the best pies he’d ever had baked there. It also had the added benefit of being far, far away from his boss and the rest of the Wonderbolts.

It was still only a faint spot in the distance, near a much larger, darker one that sprawled over mountains and blurred off into the horizon - the borders of the Everfree Forest. It still made him feel nervous, how close Ponyville was to the eldritch place, but it hadn’t been his choice to settle there.

There were no other ponies around, and he tilted his wings, diving down, spinning and twisting before pulling into a steep climb. When he reached the peak, he hovered in place, eyes closed, taking a deep breath and reveling in the sheer joy of flight. Even if he were “on leave”, it was something that nopony could take from him, and he savored it.

Three weeks. He had three weeks before he could go back to Cloudsdale and the rest of the Wonderbolts.

His wings beat, pushing the air down as he thought. He’d visited Rainbow Dash’s friend’s place, once... Applejack had been her name, if he remembered properly.

Well, maybe she’d be all right with him stopping by unannounced. He flushed as a related memory uncurled.

She’d also had a rather attractive stallion brother, hadn’t she? He’d clearly been making eyes at the yellow colt sitting next to him, and the colt had been making them right back but...

It’d been far too long since he’d been able to set eyes on anypony quite as handsome as that crimson stallion. The Wonderbolts selected for sheer speed, agility, and skill. Seeing a pony who was bulkier and more thickly-muscled than his fellow teammates would certainly be a treat.

The pegasus leaned to the side and tilted his wings down slightly, starting a long, curving arc towards the small village.

~~~~

Soarin’ peered over the edge of the cloud with a smile on his face. Though he was eager to get something to snack on, he couldn’t pass up the chance to ponywatch. He let his eyes unfocus, merely taking in the blur of the moving crowds, the colors of mane and coat, and the cheerful hubbub of happy ponies going about their business.

If he’d looked directly beneath his perch, he’d have seen the stallion he’d idly daydreamed right beneath him, sharing a lunch with his coltfriend and studiously ignoring the various stares and occasional mournful sigh from a smitten filly.

Caramel was grinning. He’d been grinning for the past half hour. “So... your little sister really slipped you a love potion.”

“Eeeeyup.”

“And they gave the same one to, of all ponies, your ex-fillyfriend.”

“Eeeeyup.” That smile Caramel was giving him was maddening.

“And you were making eyes at your, what was it... ‘shmoopy doopy sweetie weetie pony pie’ for hours.”

“Eeeeyup.” Ah’m not gonna snap at him... Ah’m not gonna snap at him...

“And you were merrily bouncing through town to go see her... so you two could get married.”

“Buck it, Caramel, Ah saw y’ nuzzlin’ Golden Harvest and Spring Showers before Apple Bloom slipped me th’ potion!”

The red stallion’s irritation only increased when his partner fell over laughing. “I was thanking them for some advice they gave me!” he finally managed to say through his chuckles.

Big Macintosh gave the tan colt a long stare. “Advice? On what?”

The smaller pony got back to his hooves and scuffed one against the tiled patio. “Er... how to cook...”

“Ah couldn’t hear you. Just what did y’ ask about?”

“... I was getting some cooking recipes, okay? After... after Applejack said I did an okay job at making a pie, I thought...” he flushed, and continued. “I thought maybe I’d try to learn how to cook... for... when... For the future. You know. Just in case. … What are you staring at?”

Big Mac’s lips curled up as he nibbled at his salad. “Ah was just thinkin’, that’s a far cry from th’ shy little colt Ah remember was almost too scared t’ talk to me.”

Caramel flicked his ears backwards and ducked his head, a flush coming to his cheeks. “So, uh, exactly why did your sister drug you if she knew we were together?”

“Ah think she got carried away by her friends’ enthusiasm. Not th’ first time Ah’ve seen it happen.”

The tan colt nodded and took another bite out of his meal, occasionally glancing awkwardly at the few gawkers. Apparently his relationship with Macintosh was still a Thing.

Soarin’, oblivious to the scene, finally stretched out and prepared to make a visit to Sweet Apple Acres. The combined lure of pie and some eyecandy was finally too great to resist, and he gracefully kicked off his perch and smiled as the air thrummed through his feathers as he took a slow, banking descent towards the orchard and buildings.

~~~~

Something had made a noise outside.

Braeburn’s eyes whipped back and forth. Granny Smith was asleep. Apple Bloom was bothering Rarity, along with the rest of the Cutie Mark Crusaders. Big Macintosh was out with... Caramel, and he had try not to grind his teeth at the thought of the tan pony, and Applejack had headed into town as well. He strained his ears, wondering if it had just been a fluke, the sound of wind banging... something... against a windowsill.

There it is again!

The Appleloosan frowned. If there was an invader, whether he liked it or not, it was up to him to defend the farmhouse. He glanced at the front door, and with his heart in his throat, slid the lock closed. The Apple family house - any Apple family house - was never locked. He felt almost as though he was breaking some sacred tradition, that had been passed on from pony to pony through the generations, and now his mother and father were looking down upon him from the heavens with shame.

Which was absolutely ridiculous, as his parents were both fine and he’d sent them a generic, bland, “I’m doing fine” letter just last week. Shaking the mood off, he tiptoed as best he could into the kitchen, all while trying to ignore the loud taptap his cast made on the floorboards. He selected the heaviest saucepan off the rack, and made his way as stealthily as he could up the stairs.

Whatever it was outside was still there - the farm had gone completely silent, save the noises the intruder was making. Braeburn dropped down to his belly and slid along the floor, inching closer and closer to the window nearest to the source of the commotion. Every inch he moved made his chest flutter, until at last he had his spine pressed to the wall. Clenching the handle of the pan in his teeth, he got to his hooves, peered out the window, and spotted the interloper.

With such an easy target, all it took was a bit of careful aim and a toss.

~~~~

His head hurt. A lot.

Before memory came slipping back, Soarin’s first thought was that he’d been out celebrating with the Wonderbolts again, and Spitfire had slipped him another “accidentally” too-strong drink.

“You need to loosen up, Soarin’! You’ll never find a special somepony as uptight as you are.”

“Thanks for the advice, mom,” he’d retorted. She’d just given him that mellow grin and moved on, which just irritated him further. She knew why he’d been chaste for the past few...

Well, maybe she had a point, but still. It ought to be his decision to go looking, not hers... even if every pony he met was used to his dopey persona, and expected him to be as dumb as a sackful of hammers.

Then he remembered where he was - or where he had been, this rough floor certainly wasn’t the front porch of the Apples - and groaned as he lifted a hoof to rub his aching head.

Tried to lift a hoof to rub his aching head.

The pegasus opened his eyes, then blinked. He was in a barn. That was new. Well, perhaps he was still on Apple property, but that raised the question of who had brought him here and why.

He was tied up. That was also new, and... distinctly uncomfortable. His wings were both carefully bound, and he was sure his left one was starting to cramp. Added to that indignity, all his legs were hobbled together, and apparently the only reason his mouth wasn’t tied shut was because his captor had run out of rope.

And speak of the pony...

He was apparently being held prisoner by a rather sullen colt with an apple on his haunches, a cast on his leg, and given the expression on the pony’s muzzle, a massive chip on his shoulder. If he actually smiled, he would probably be pretty cute. Soarin’ shook his head. This was not the time, or the place, to start mooning over somepony. Especially somepony who had apparently knocked him out and tied him up with some surprisingly good knots. Not that Soarin’ would admit to knowing anything about knots when pressed, especially in front of anypony he knew.

“Awright, so what were y’ doing, tryin’ to break in to Sweet Apple Acres?”

“Break in? I was seeing if Applejack or Big Macintosh were home so I could... get one of their pies...?” It sounded weak, even to him, and Soarin’ gulped as he realized that, disoriented, he’d forgotten his stage accent.

Whoever the strange pony was, he just snorted and rolled his eyes. “Right, that’s exactly what you were doin’, stranger. Just tryin’ to get some pie.”

The blue pony had enough, and tried to get to his hooves. Unfortunately, Braeburn had bound him far too well for that, and all he managed was to fall over to his other side, his chin hitting the packed earth and straw. Soarin’ did his best to ignore the hardly-stifled laughter. “I’m not a stranger. I’m a Wonderbolt.”

Braeburn’s sniggering quieted, and he gave his “guest” a long look. “Right, and I’m th’ mayor of Appleloosa. C’mon, I’m not fallin’ for that one.”

Soarin’ glowered up from his ungainly posture, and tried to talk as best he could with his chin pinned by his own weight. “I’m Soarin’. I’m a Wonderbolt. I just normally talk like this, dude, now c’mon, let me go, bro. Did that help stir a few brain cells?”

The yellow stallion shifted awkwardly on his hooves. “Suppose... suppose you could be him... but that doesn’t explain why y’ were fluttering around outside the house.”

“I was trying to see if Big Macintosh or Applejack were home first, okay? Celestia, what burr got under your tail?”

The Appleloosan stomped the leg in a cast, and immediately regretted it. While it wasn’t paining him as much as it used to, it still hurt when he went and did a fool thing like that. “D’ you have eyes or not? This blasted leg’s broken. I think that ought t’ be reason enough to be a mite put out.”

Soarin’ stared up at the unbound pony for a long moment, and Braeburn shifted uncomfortably. Just as he opened his mouth to ask just what the blue pegasus was thinking, the Wonderbolt spoke. “Left front leg; left back leg; right wing, twice; jaw, right front leg, and both wings at the same time; and almost my spine.”

“What...”

“That’s the list of all the bones I’ve broken... whoever you are. And you’ll notice I’m not sniping at someone I’ve tied up in a barn somewhere.” Soarin’ reflected that this was true; he was making snide comments right back, but he wasn’t making them at somepony who was trussed up in a bundle.

The injured stallion coughed; apparently, the roof of the barn was suddenly quite interesting. “The name’s Braeburn, and, uh... if you’ll just hold still a mite,” he continued as he took a step forward, “I’ll have ya untied in a jiffy.”

The pegasus flicked his wings unconsciously as the rope slithered off his body, and he pulled himself to his hooves with a shake. “Can I get some pie now?” he asked plaintively as his stomach rumbled.

Braeburn sighed and shook his head. “Fine... I’ll make y’ one on the house, to make up for the... inconvenience.”

“‘Inconvenience’, he says,” the Wonderbolt muttered under his breath as he walked out of the barn, and the yellow colt shot him an injured glare.

“There’s no call for that.”

Soarin’ came to a total halt. “No call? No call?! You knocked me out with... something heavy, I don’t know what... tie me up, try to interrogate me, and now you’re trying to act like nothing happened? I could have you arrested for assault, you’ve practically admitted to it! ‘Oh, sorry, sir, I didn’t realize he knew the owners of the house and was trying to see if they were in, I just thought he’d enjoy some surprise bondage’. I’m sure they’d believe you. It’s not like the Wonderbolts haven’t had any crazy stalkers do something similar before.”

“All right, I’m sorry. Are y’ happy now? I’m... sorry...”

The blue colt blinked in surprise as his assailant went from angry to sorrowful in three sentences. “Is... something wrong?”

Braeburn scrubbed at his face with a hoof. “Just hit me. This is the longest talk I’ve had with anypony in months.”

The pegasus stared, shocked. “Anypony? What about the Apples?”

“They...” the Appleloosan stared at the ground as he quietly spoke. “They avoid me. Can’t say I blame ‘em.”

Soarin’ looked up at the sky and sighed. “All right. How about you tell me all about it, while you make me an apple pie, just like the one I had last time I visited.”

Pegasus Feathers

Soarin’ sighed, quietly, as Braeburn rooted through the pantry and cupboards to find the things he needed to “make the best pie possible”.

He’s not bad looking, no. But... Soarin’ crinkled his nose as he thought. Something about him just sets my teeth on edge. It might be his attitude. It might be his whole “woe is me pity my poor broken shell of a body” thing.

Braeburn dropped a pan onto the counter with a clatter, and the pegasus winced. Or it’s his attitude. Nothing’s worse than a stallion who cares only for himself.

“So what brought y’ out to Ponyville?” the yellow pony asked over his shoulder, cautiously. His “guest” hadn’t left yet, so there was at least a chance that if he made nice he wouldn’t be seeing one of the Guard.

“I’m taking a bit of a vacation. Spitfire suggested it.”

The earth pony dropped a mug of water on the table, and flicked his tail at it as he turned. “Drink up. So, Ponyville, huh? I... guess I can see why she’d say this was a great place,” Braeburn said, the tone of his voice clearly indicating otherwise.

Soarin’ rested his chin on a hoof. “Okay, Braeburn, why are you here, then?”

The yellow stallion’s smile turned slightly glassy. “Oh, I just thought I could use some time with the family, you know how it is...”

The pegasus stared at the other pony, flatly, making it as obvious as he could that he wasn’t buying it. Finally, the other cracked.

“All right, I left my hometown ‘cause... ‘cause I didn’t want to stay there any longer than I had to, all right?”

Ah, progress. Soarin’ nodded. “Well, seems a bit extreme, but a change of scenery is always nice. Plus, as you said, you’ve had such wonderful talks with everypony you’ve met.”

Braeburn glowered at him, and the blue stallion returned the look with the blandest smile he could muster. “Once y’ get your pie, you’re leaving,” the Appleloosan grumbled.

~~~~~

“This... this is a lot of paperwork,” Rainbow Dash stared at the pile in disgust.

Applejack merely sighed and stuffed the lot into her bags. “Well, the mayor said we had t’ fill all this in ‘fore we could adopt anypony.” She sniffed. “‘Sides, it shouldn’t take too long if we both work on it.”

The pegasus coughed. “Ah, yeah. About that... Igottagodosomethingseeyalater!”

With that, the rainbow-maned mare was nothing more than a fading blur into the distance.

“Rainbow Dash! You get back here this...” the farmpony sighed in annoyance when it became clear that her partner couldn’t hear her any more, and wasn’t planning on returning anyway.

After a few moments, she stopped glowering at the evaporating trail the pegasus had left behind, and stamped over towards the nearest diner. I don’t know why I put up with her sometimes...

~~~~~

Knock knock knock knock knock knock.

“Just a moment! Spike, get the door, please!” Twilight called over her shoulder. “There, Fluttershy, that should be enough reference material for you to find what’s wrong with Angel, right?”

“Uhm... yes, thank you,” the quiet filly replied, nearly buried underneath a pile of various texts, tomes, and scrolls all relating to animal health. Several of them were only tangentially related to rabbits, one dealt with the care and feeding of weasels, and three more Twilight levitated over were about astronomy. “I, uh... I guess I’ll be going now... so you don’t need to trouble yourself any more...”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

“Spike! Could you... Oh, right, I told him he had the afternoon off...” the unicorn sighed to herself as she flipped the latch on the door open.

“It’s about time! Twi, you busy?”

“Well, I was giving Fluttershy some advice for-”

Rainbow Dash kicked the door shut behind her - rebounding it off a squeaky yellow mare who’d attempted to make her way past when no one was looking - and flicked her wings closed. “Yeah, yeah, right. So, Twi, you know that ‘walk on clouds’ spell you cast on everypony a while back?”

“I’ll... just be going...” Fluttershy mumbled as she reopened the door and wobbily stepped through it.

Twilight sighed as her friend left, and turned to face her newer visitor. “Yes, Dash, I remember it. Considering Rarity almost died that day, it’d be pretty hard to forget. Why?”

“So, uh... if you cast it on something a pony was wearing, would it work on them?”

“Why do you even need to know? You’re a pegasus pony, you can already walk on clouds.”

“Pleeeeeease, Twi? Just tell me?”

The unicorn tapped a hoof on the floor, thoughtfully. “Well, I don’t... hmm... Let me check! Spike, fetch me Nine Magical Incantations You Can Use Every Day, Levitation Spells for the Grounded, Flight Runes for the Foolish, and How Not to Leave a Crater: a Study!”

Rainbow Dash coughed, scuffed the floor, and looked at a wall while Twilight stood there, grinning in the silence.

“Spike! I asked... right, right, time off...” The purple mare sighed in annoyance, focused, and four books lit up with a purplish-red aura before floating over to her. “Let’s see... Hmmm, yes, yes, possibly, that could work, oooh, I never thought of combining those together...”

“Twilight?”

The purple unicorn didn’t seem to hear her. “Oh, and the magical matrices really interact like that? Astounding! Wow, Princess Celestia never told me about this!”

“... I’ll just check back later.”

~~~~~

Soarin’ stared at the mush on the plate in front of him. It was, he had to concede, technically a pie. He’d watched as apples had gone into it, as had butter, flour, sugar, and the seasonings that Braeburn had very insistently moved to block every time the pegasus had tried to peek.

The chef was now sitting directly opposite from him, and was glowering, his eyes boring into the blue stallion’s, flicking down to the dish, then returning to meet his guest’s. It was quite clearly a challenge.

Soarin’ dropped his eyes once more to the plate and the warm, gently cooling, and slowly spreading pool of gunk. Delicately, he picked up a fork in his mouth and gave the substance an experimental prod. When the metal tines failed to dissolve, the pegasus dropped the cutlery with a clatter, and took a careful bite.
He paused, mid-chew, with his eyes focusing off into the distance. Fascinating. I didn’t realize it was possible to feel my taste buds dying.

“There, y’ got your pie. Now you can go.”

The pegasus didn’t answer, his eyes staying fixed on the horizon. Ah, to spit or to swallow. The age-old question.

Then again, the pony on the other side of the table had been a complete jerk, and Soarin’s head still hurt from earlier, so perhaps a little rudeness was in order. He opened his mouth and let the vaguely food-related, partially chewed substance drop back onto the plate. “I don’t know what that stuff was, but it definitely wasn’t a pie. And it wasn’t ‘the best pie possible’ unless you have never cooked before, only glanced at a recipie, and weren’t paying much attention to begin with.”

“Why... I oughta... that there was an Apple-baked pie! T’ ain’t my fault y’ don’t know good pie when y’ have it!”

“All right, then. You eat it,” Soarin’ retorted, pushing the plate over to the other pony.

Braeburn gave the mush a slow, distrusting look, and the blue stallion did his best to resist crowing out loud. “Awright, so I could have done better,” he conceded.

This time it was Soarin’s turn to give the pony opposite him a long, flat stare. Finally, the cowpony caved.

“Awright, it’s downright awful.”

“And you said...”

The Appleloosan sighed. “I said I’d make y’ a good one.”

“And...?”

Braeburn’s eyebrows furrowed. “And...?”

Soarin’ buried his face in his hooves. “You said you’d tell my why your family avoids you while you were at it.” And, if this is how you act around them, I can see why.

With a deep sigh, the yellow stallion got to his hooves and headed over to the countertop, this time intent on baking properly instead of merely tossing everything together and halfheartedly hoping.

“One more thing...”

Braeburn grit his teeth. “What. Else. Is it. You want.”

“Can I get something to wash the taste out of my mouth?”

The Appleloosan let out a defeated sigh and nodded. “Fine, fine. Some cider it is...”

~~~~~

It’s a nice place... Rainbow Dash thought to herself as she hovered outside her home, examining it from every angle. Shame, really, but sometimes ya gotta give things up.

The pegasus lifted a leg, ready to start, and froze, unable to continue.

I... I’ll miss the fountain, and the rainbows... Her hoof lowered, resting gently against the cloud edifice.

I... I guess it can wait... the blue mare sighed as she rested her forehead against the structure. There’s no rush, after all... the papers need to be filed... But I should at least get it moved...

A moment later, she had her hooves planted in the foundation of her house, and with tremendous effort and hundreds of wingbeats, managed to get it to slowly shift towards Sweet Apple Acres.

“It... can... hover... over the... farm... for a bit... first...” she ground out as it gently bobbed towards the fields and orchards. There was nopony else to hear it, but she felt better saying it out loud.

~~~~~

“So, you came out to Ponyville because...”

“I already told y’ that I don’t want t’ talk about it.”

Soarin’ rolled his head back and winced as a few muscles complained. “Right, because that’s worked so well for you so far. Tell me again how many friends you have?”

Braeburn ground his teeth together. “Fine. I got beat up in an alley, and didn’t want to stick around in case the ponies responsible wanted t’ finish the job.”

“There, was that so hard?” the pegasus asked, a faint smile hovering on his lips.

The cowpony looked over his shoulder, ready to skewer his visitor with a poisonous glare, and was extremely annoyed to discover the blue pony wasn’t even looking at, or apparently even paying attention to, him. “So, any other pryin’ questions you have for me?”

“Oh, I’m sure I can think of some eventually,” Soarin’ replied lightly, waving a hoof through the air.

The yellow stallion grumbled under his breath, and turned back to watch the baking pie. This one, at least, was not bubbling worryingly; in fact, in all regards it was a normal, well-behaved pie that was not about to gain sapience and decide to eat the town.

Braeburn wasn’t sure if he should be happy about that or not.

“Well, at least I’m here of my own choice, not ‘cause my boss told me I needed t’ get out of town for a while!”

“Oh, come on, that’s the best you can do? Please, I work for the Wonderbolts. Some of us swear like sailors -” Sorry, Spitfire, but you do, “- when our tails get caught in doors. I doubt that anything you say could shock me.”

“That so?” the cowpony answered, then took a deep breath before exploding, “Well then, y’ bare-flanked, knock-kneed -”

~~~~~

Applejack tipped her hat back out of her eyes and eyed her partner as she wearily dropped to the diner’s patio. “And just where have y’ been, Dash? I’ve gotten all th’ paperwork done ‘cept for the things y’ need to sign, thank y’ very much, so you better have a darn good reason t’ just fly off like that!”

Rainbow Dash didn’t reply immediately; instead, she raised a hoof and, when the waitress materialized, asked for a large glass of water.

“Dash...”

“All right, all right. I just got finished moving my house over to Sweet Apple Acres.”

The farmpony opened her mouth to speak, paused, and then started over. “Y’ mean, you moved the things in your house over t’ the farm?”

The spectrum-maned pony lifted her head and an eyebrow as she responded. “No, I moved my house. The whole thing.”

The waiter returned with a small dandelion salad for Applejack and the requested water. “Now why’d ya go and do somethin’ like that, sugarcube? I thought that y’ liked havin’ your place off by itself... or am I thinkin’ too hard?”

Dash took a chug from the glass and set it back down. “Nah, I... well, if I’m gonna be a parent I gotta act the part, right?”
Applejack gave her friend a long, slow look.

“I know, I know, this is me saying it. Don’t stare at me like that.”

~~~~~

Braeburn sat back on his haunches, smirking smugly. “There. Told y’ I could swear.” Soarin’ stared, and the cowpony leaned against the table, his grin broadening. “Anything else y’ wanna hear?”

The pegasus blinked, and a slow smile appeared on his lips. “Really now? I’ll give you some points, ‘cause it was kinda inventive in places, but I’ve heard worse.”

The yellow earth pony gawked, “y’ can’t be serious!”, and Soarin’ let out a deep laugh.

“Oh, I’m serious. Last week, for example, Spitfire got really frustrated with how one of the other pegasi was slacking off, and called him a ‘tail-knotted, duster-winged - ”

~~~~~

Applejack took another bite of her salad, and continued, “so, you’re... actually wantin’ to rebuild your place around th’ farmhouse?”

The spectrum-maned pony sighed, slightly regretfully, and nodded. “If we’re going to adopt Scootaloo, I think she’d feel happier to have a pegasus home to sleep in... even if she can’t fly yet. But at the same time, she’d need to get up to the place, and I don’t want to take her too far away from you, so... reshaping it so it’s part of your house seemed like the best idea.”

The farmpony nodded, tracing a hoof over the table. “Seems like a good idea t’ me.”

“Oh, and I haven’t even mentioned the good part, yet. You know that walk on clouds spell Twilight cast on almost everypony a while back? I asked her if it was possible to use it on something a pony could wear, but would let them feel the effects!"

“Y’ gave Twilight a reason t’ go research magic. Horseapples, now we’re not gonna see her for a week!”

“Well, uh... it was the only thing that came to mind. So, the paperwork... where do I need to sign again?”

“Only in a couplea places,” Applejack sighed. “Though I gotta say, I’d have liked t’ not have to do it all on my lonesome,” she continued, pulling the papers from her packs.
The pegasus ducked, a slight flush on her cheeks. “Sorry, AJ.”

~~~~~

“And by the end of it, she looked like she was about to catch fire, she was so angry!”

Braeburn chuckled as he checked the pie in the oven, and upon deciding it was done, pulled the confection from the heated appliance. “Awright, I’ll concede, I haven’t heard most o those.”

“Oooooh, that smells great. Much more like an actual pie, not... whatever that first thing was.”

The Appleloosan didn’t dignify that with an answer, instead cutting two slices and depositing them on plates. “Well, if y’ want it that much, c’mon over and get one. Not like I can carry two o’ these at once right now.”

Soarin’ snorted, but obediently got to his feet and sauntered over to the countertop. “So, I win, then? You’re not as experienced as you thought you were, hmm?”

Braeburn shot his companion a glance, but the blue stallion was too busy eyeing his slice of pie to notice. Not as experienced my hind hoof... His gaze travelled along Soarin’s body, examing it in more detail. Pretty muscular. Trim build, though. Might have a lotta stamina, that’s never a bad thing... And despite all those injuries o’ his, he’s still not bad lookin’...

The cowpony, nervously, acted on impulse. It was, he admitted later, a fool thing to do, but the part of his mind that normally shot down this variety of terrible idea was off in a corner being weepy.

The Appleloosan leaned over, and before Soarin’ could take a bite out of what seemed to be a very good, extremely tasty, and enthrallingly delicious pie, the yellow stallion kissed the pegasus on the lips.

Soarin’, who had, perhaps unwisely, had shut his eyes. This... doesn’t seem right. I don’t taste apple, and that texture is way too soft... for... He opened his eyes, and his wings unfurled with a shocked snap. He’s... oh, Celestia, I don’t... “Igottago!” he yelped, his hooves scrabbling on the floor as he backed out of the kitchen as quickly as possible. In his haste, he knocked Braeburn off his hooves.

The yellow stallion gasped in shock as he fell, then hissed as his broken leg was jarred by the impact with the floor. By the time he recovered and looked up, there was nopony else in sight, and he could hear the door banging shut behind the Wonderbolt.

… I just had t’ be stupid, didn’t I? Braeburn rubbed at his face, tears starting to form in his eyes. Just had t’ go and scare off the one pony... He dissolved into sobs.

~~~~~

“Well, it’ll need some work, but I think it looks all right from here, Dash,” Applejack called up to her friend. “I can see how y’ would want t’ make it more accessible to Scootaloo, too.”

“Awesome. Anything else you can think of?”

The elder Apple sister shook her head. “I think that’ll ‘bout cover it. Want t’ come in for a bit, or just gonna call it a night now?”

“Eh, I think I’ll grab some of your leftovers, if ya don’t mind,” the pegasus shouted down to her partner, before jumping off the edge of her cloud, flipping several times in midair, and landing on one hoof.

Applejack chuckled and shook her head. “Showoff,” she muttered under her breath as she pushed the door to the farmhouse open. Rainbow Dash just flashed her a broad smile.

Both of them paused at the sound of muffled crying.

“Is that...” Rainbow Dash begain, glancing over to her friend in puzzlement.

“Sounds like ‘im,” she returned absently as they rounded the doorframe. “Braeburn? What in Equestria’s gotten into you?”

“He... he left...” the yellow colt replied, looking up at the pair and scrubbing at his face weakly. “He... left.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Who left? Big Macintosh?” Dash was hovering over the earth ponies, looking back and forth between Applejack and her cousin.

“S-S-Soarin’. He... we were talkin’, and then I did somethin’ I shouldn’ta, and he left...” He threw himself at his cousin, who caught him awkwardly, and patted his back before giving her companion a puzzled look.

“Soarin’? Th’ Wonderbolt?”

“I’m sorry! I was just so happy t’ have somepony t’ talk to an’ now he’s gone!”

Rainbow Dash touched ground for a moment, and carefully rested a hoof on Braeburn’s shoulder. “I’ll go see if I can find him. He couldn’t have gone far, right?”

The Appleloosan sniffled, and gave the aqua pegasus a teary grin. “Thanks... I sure ‘ppreciate it...”

The pegasus exited the Apple family’s home, as quickly as she could. It was, perhaps, a little rude of her to leave Applejack to deal with the situation, but she wasn’t sure she could cope with Braeburn suddenly expressing a normal pony’s reaction. She’d gotten so used to thinking of him as “that hateful jerk”...

Man, I do NOT envy AJ right now. Better her than me, though!

Meanwhile, the hard-working filly was doing her best to console her cousin. “Don’t worry, Dash’ll find him. And get yourself off the floor and have a nap, Brae. Some rest’ll do ya good.”

“Thanks...” he sniffed again, hauling himself to his hooves. “Thanks, cuz. You take care yourself...” he said over his shoulder as he left the room.

“Well, I’ll be,” Applejack softly said to herself. “Looks like he ain’t as stony as all o’ us thought...”

Spreading Branches

He’s runnin’ late, Big Macintosh thought to himself as he idly drummed a hoof on the restaurant’s table.

Not that he was surprised. Despite how much the poor pony tried, something was bound to go wrong for Caramel. It was just how things seemed to work around the tan stallion, and by now both he and Macintosh had simply come to accept it.

Big Macintosh had a sneaking suspicion that his placid allowance for the myriad disasters that followed in his coltfriend’s wake was yet another reason why Caramel was so enamored of him.

Not that he was complaining.

Once more he snuck a glance at the nearest clock. Unsurprisingly, it showed that the eldest Apple’s date was fifteen minutes behind for their late lunch.

At least it’s not an hour, like last time, he consoled himself.

Just then, Caramel turned the street corner at a dead run, charging towards the diner and Big Macintosh’s table in particular. The red stallion started to rise, concerned. If he doesn’t slow down...
As soon as he completed the thought, Caramel started to throttle his pace back; unfortunately, it was too little, too late, and his hooves slid out from under him when he was within two feet of his partner.

Predictably, the poor pony crashed into the table leg with a loud crash, and Big Macintosh silently thanked Celestia that the table wasn’t made of glass.

The pair had learned that lesson a while ago, and apparently so had the restaurants of Ponyville. Any time that Macintosh and Caramel ate away from their homes, they were always seated at the most... robust location.

“Are y’ all right?” Big Mac asked as he leaned over to check on his date.

“I’m fine, I’m fi-” Caramel began. He didn’t finish, however, as he whacked his head on the wooden underside. “Ow...”

“Are y’ sure?” Macintosh asked as he shifted closer to check on the other pony. As it turned out, he ended up a little too close, as this time Caramel struck Mac’s forehead with his own.

Partially stunned, the Apple sat back and shook his head a few times in an attempt to clear it.

“Just what’s your skull made of, Caramel?”

Caramel flushed pink as he pulled himself out from under the table. “Sorry, Mac. I was in a bit of a hurry because two packages somehow got their labels swapped, and I had to redeliver them and make it out to you...” He ducked his head. “Sorry.”

“T’ ain’t a problem. Y’ said Derpy was goin’ t’ meet us here?”

Almost immediately Caramel perked back up. “Yeah! She kept teasing me about how I was always talking about you, but how she’d never really had a chance to meet you aside from some deliveries...” he trailed off. “Well, eventually, I gave in and agreed we should all have lunch together after her shift, so she could meet ‘the famous Mr. Macintosh’.”

“Ah see,” Big Mac grinned. “Just what have y’ been tellin’ her, Caramel?”

This time Caramel turned a bright red. “Nothing like that! Just... stuff. Everyday stuff.”

“Eeeeyup.”

“Maaaac...” Caramel sighed. Before he could come up with a proper reply, their waiter wordlessly arrived with two plates of dandelion and burdock salad, two glasses of water, and a cold, wet washcloth for Caramel’s head.

“Mac... did you order before I got here?”

“Nnnnope.”

“I think we’ve been here a bit too often, then.” The waiter simply grinned and moved to visit another family. Caramel took a bite before continuing, “have you seen Derpy yet? She’s sometimes late, but nothing like this.”

Wordlessly, Mac shook his head, and the other pony sighed.

“I hope she’s okay.”

Big Macintosh swallowed. “Ah doubt she’s come t’ harm. Somethin’ probably sprang up at the last minute. Y’ know how that can happen.”

“I know, but she’s still a friend. I’m allowed to worry.”

Mac opened his mouth to soothe his date, but was interrupted by a voice from above them.

“Hey, Caramel, there you are.”

The tan pony looked up. “Burl? What’s the problem?”

“Eh, there’s not really a problem... Dinky’s laid up with a cold and I was just over there, and Derpy asked me to come tell ya that she couldn’t make it...” The pegasus coughed.

A sly grin spread over Caramel’s face. “Soo, are you dating her yet?”

Burl gave his employee an offended look. “And just what business is it of yours?”

“None at all. I just happened to see some daisies sticking out of your packs, and those happen to be Derpy and Dinky’s favorite flowers to snack on when they’re feeling a little down...”

“All right, all right,” Burl groaned. “Maybe there might be something. But you better not mention this to her or your haunches’ll be out on the curb.”

Caramel waved a hoof as his boss flapped off with an air of offended dignity.

“Caramel, are y’ sure y’ should’ve made him upset with you? You heard what he said about your job...”

The tan stallion grinned. “Don’t worry, that’s just how he is, all wind and bluster. If there’s one thing he likes, it’s being able to complain. In fact, sometimes I think that’s why he hired me - so he’ll always have something to gripe about!”

Big Macintosh snorted, but resumed his meal with a smile. It was something of a relief to hear his partner joke about his penchant for ill luck.

“So, how’re things at your place, Mac?” Caramel’s tone was carefully neutral.

“More o’ the same, really,” came the reply. “Applejacks’ always gettin’ wound up over somethin’, Apple Bloom’s still gettin’ her tail in a twist ‘bout her cutie mark, Granny’s slowin’ down in her old age, an’ Brae is... Brae.”

“So, still a jerk,” Caramel muttered, not quite under his breath. All Big Macintosh could do was nod his agreement.

The pair continued to eat in companionable silence, until Big Mac suddenly froze, and then with equal speed ducked under the table.

“Mac? What’s gotten into... oh.” Caramel followed the poorly-hidden stallion’s gaze and coughed awkwardly when he saw Cheerilee coming their way. “I don’t think she saw you...”

“Ah don’t care. Ah don’t want t’ have t’ explain what Ah’m doin’.”

Caramel rubbed his face with a hoof. “Mac, with all the rumors about us, I doubt that she hasn’t heard one by now. Plus, she’s Apple Bloom’s teacher, and you know how much your little sister likes to talk sometimes.”

“Ah don’t care. Ah’m not movin’.”

Caramel groaned. “There’s really no call for this,” he complained, mostly to himself.

“Afternoon, Caramel,” Cheerilee called as soon as she caught sight of him. She barely spared a glance at Big Mac’s hindquarters clearly sticking out of “concealment”. “How’re you today?”

“Not too badly, all things considered,” the deliverypony replied. “Just having a meal with Mac here.”

“Traitor,” hissed the Apple, from under the table.

Cheerilee seated herself across from the two stallions. “So, you are seeing each other then?”

“Don’t tell her anything!” whispered the table. It was ignored.

“Eeeeyup. For a few months now.” Caramel shot a look at the red legs jutting out along the ground.

“I see...” Cheerilee murmured, then leaned over with a sly grin. “Does he still snore?”

“Oh, no. Tell me y’ aren’t doin’ this t’ me.”

“Like a sawmill!”

“Caramel, Ah’m beggin’ ya, don’t...”

“Let me guess,” Cheerilee continued, “he still hogs all the covers in his sleep, then gets grumpy and half-awake when you try to get them back?”

“Ugh, all the time! And if you let him, Mac’ll sleep in for hours, and it’s like trying to wake up a rock.”

“Like you’re one t’ talk!” Mac snapped, surfacing from the subtablean depths. “Ah’ve tried t’ get you outta bed for three hours runnin’ once!” He paused as soon as he finished speaking, realizing how he had just broken cover. “Oh, buck.”

“Oh, Big Macintosh!” Cheerilee said cheerfully, as though he had just walked over, “how nice to see you again!”

“Evenin’, miss Cheerilee,” he gulped. Ah’m dead, Ah’m dead, Ah’m dead, Ah’m dead...

“So, you and Caramel are getting along well, then?”

“Eeeeyup.”

“No major fights lately or anything?”

“Nnnnope.”

“Are you going to give me any other answer other than yes or no?”

“... Mmmmaybe.”

The mare sighed. “Macintosh Apple, I’m not going to bite your head off. We didn’t exactly part on... amicable terms, but that was years ago. I’ve gotten over it.” She smiled at him, the expression both distant and a trifle wistful. “At least one of us has.”

“‘Lee...” Mac swallowed. “Ah’m sorry.”

She laid a hoof over his. “I know. As though the way you’ve avoided me all this time wasn’t enough of a hint. So,” she continued brightly, turning to face the other member of the group, “you’ve been keeping an eye on him, have you?”

“I’ve tried,” Caramel admitted, “but sometimes our schedules don’t work out, or something comes up... we were actually supposed to meet somepony here today, but her foal got sick and she had to cancel at the last minute.”

“Oh dear... that wouldn’t be little Dinky Doo would it? She wasn’t feeling very well earlier today, so I sent her home. And don’t frown at me like that, Caramel, I called her mother to let her know.”

“That explains why Burl was out and about. He must have picked up the rest of the deliveries she had to do.” Caramel grinned. “That must have been something to see. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him move from behind his desk.” He paused. “Well, aside from that time he was training Derpy after she got hired. Honestly, I think he lives back there.”

“Well, maybe if he’s successful courtin’ Derpy, he’ll have someplace more comfortable t’ live,” Macintosh rumbled. Now that the topic was on slightly safer ground, he felt more at ease speaking.

Cheerilee blinked, then broke out into a wide smile. “Oh, that’d be wonderful news! Dinky’s told me that it sometimes gets lonely having to wait for her mother to get home, and she seems to like Burl; she’ll chatter all about how he comes to visit.”

“From what little he’s said, he seems to adore her,” Caramel admitted. “Not that he says a lot. It’s pretty clear he wants it to stay private.”

“Ah can’t say Ah blame him for wantin’ private affairs t’ stay private.”

“You’re one to talk, Macintosh, what with kissing Caramel in the middle of the market,” Cheerilee teased.

“Horseapples, that was all Caramel’s doin’.”

Caramel groaned and sank down to the tabletop. “Thanks for bringing that up again.”

“If you’d ignored Brae, it wouldn’t be causin’ you so much grief. ‘Sides, it’s not like Ah’m bothered by it.”

“Mac,” sighed Caramel, “I’ve only seen you get upset once, and that was at your cousin. Even then, you’ve got the patience of Celestia herself.”

Cheerilee had been watching the repartee with thinly-disguised curiosity. “Family trouble?”

“Y’ could say that. My cousin’s been stayin’ with us for a while an’ he’s...” Big Mac hesitated as he searched for the best way to phrase it.

“A self-centered git with the morals of a cat in heat,” muttered Caramel. Macintosh sighed.

“He’s not always like that. Somethin’ happened to make him act like it, though. Whatever it is, he ain’t tellin’.”

“I still don’t like him.”

“Ah’m not askin’ ya to. Just sayin’ there’s more to ‘im than y’ saw.”

“Are... you sure everything is all right?” Cheerilee asked tentatively.

“Pretty sure. Though Ah’m still a little sore from th’ last time Caramel-”

“Oh Celestia we are not talking about this,” Caramel interrupted, his face a bright red. Both Cheerilee and Big Macintosh shared a grin at the flushed pony’s face, though the mare’s quickly sobered.

“That reminds me... Big Macintosh, after we went our separate ways...” she hesitated before continuing, “just how many mares did you... ‘spend time’ with?”

Mac choked, and this time it was his turn to feel blood rushing to his face and ears. “‘Lee! Why’re y’ askin’ that?!”

She traced a nervous pattern on the tabletop as she replied. “It’s a rather personal question, I know, but I was thinking about our history, and, well... don’t you find it a little odd that none of them ever claimed to have your foal?”

“‘Lee, y’ aren’t sayin’...”

“I just think, well, maybe you should see somepony about it? Caramel, isn’t your father a doctor?”

The tan pony spluttered a bit. “He is... but I’m not going to go with you if you visit his practice. Nothing personal but...” he trailed off at the other ponies’ faces. “We don’t see eye-to-eye, and we don’t talk much. I really prefer to avoid him, okay?”

An awkward quiet descended, pierced by the occasional cough, and the waiter arriving to clear the table.

Eventually, Big Macintosh spoke up. “If y’ think it’s a good idea, ‘Lee, Ah’ll go. The clinic ought t’ be open for a while longer. Caramel, if it’s that important to you, Ah won’t make y’ come along.”

Caramel slumped with relief. “Thanks, Mac.”

“I’ll go with you,” At the stallions’ stare, Cheerilee forced a smile. “It was my suggestion, after all.”

All three nodded and got up. “I’ll get the bill, Mac,” Caramel grinned lopsidedly.

“Thanks. Ah’ll get the next one.” He turned to Cheerilee and gestured with a hoof. “After you, ‘Lee.”

~~~~~

Big Macintosh stared at the ceiling, counting the tiles for the fifth time. Cheerilee sat next to him, flipping through Haylights for Foals and tut-tutting at every error she found.

As the only two occupants of the waiting room, the pair occasionally exchanged glances, the question of why they’d been waiting for so long silently shared between them.

At last the door to the examination rooms opened, and a familiar-looking yellow unicorn peered through. He looked down at his clipboard, used his magic to adjust his glasses, cast his eyes over to the two potential patients, and in a disinterested tone called out, “Macintosh Apple?”

“Ah’m right here,” he answered, biting back the addition of “as y’ can clearly see”.

“If you’ll just wait in room number three, I’ll be with you shortly. You can read which is which, correct?”

“Ah can assure you that Ah don’t have the slightest bit o’ trouble with that,” he answered bitterly as he entered the room with Cheerilee. The unicorn shut the door behind them, and both ponies gave each other a long look.

“If he’s always like that, I can see why Caramel doesn’t want to deal with his father very much,” Cheerilee said quietly. Big Macintosh nodded.

“If’n his father’s always like this, it’s a wonder Caramel’s as nice a pony as he is.”

Any further conversation was prevented as the unicorn returned, levitating his clipboard and pen. “I am Doctor Stable. You are here for a basic fertility check, correct?” At Macintosh’s nod, he continued in the same clinically detached tone. “You are also the stallion that the rumor mill claims is in a relationship with my colt Caramel, yes?”

Before either Big Mac or Cheerilee formed a response, the doctor added in the same emotionless voice, “I’m glad to see that is not the case, as you’re here with a mare instead of him. Now then, as for that exam...” Ignoring his patient’s face, along with Cheerilee’s, he suspended a half-hoop and attached curtain over the Apple’s hindquarters. “Don’t move, please. This will only take a moment.”

Cheerilee watched Macintosh’s reaction to the spell with amusement - one of his eyes widened dramatically and the iris shrank, while the other eye’s lower lid twitched wildly.

“C-c-c-c-cold!” he managed.

“Yes, that’s intentional,” Doctor Stable absently commented as he scribbled notes onto his papers. “The original version had the patients feeling warmth instead, and the developer of the spell decided to change it to something less potentially embarrassing.”

“Are y’ d-d-d-done, doc?” Mac gritted out, resisting the urge to shift around to escape the chilling magic. It wouldn’t do any good, he knew, but it’d at least make him feel like he was getting something done.

“Hm? Oh, yes, I finished a minute ago. I’m just checking the results against the charts.”

“Y’ think y’ could cancel the buckin’ spell, then, doc?” Big Macintosh’s chest heaved from the effort it took to avoid dancing about the room.

Doctor Stable looked up from his forms, frowning. “Cancel the...? Ah.” Big Mac let out a sigh of relief as the cold vanished.

Secretly, he felt he probably would’ve preferred the original version, embarrassing or not. And, he admitted to himself, it wasn’t anything Cheerilee hadn’t seen before.

Speakin’ of Cheeriliee... he glanced over her and frowned in annoyance when he saw her covering her mouth with her hooves in an effort not to laugh. As soon as she caught sight of his expression, it only seemed to set her off again as she rocked back and forth on the bench.

“All right, doc, what d’ your tests have t’ say?”

The unicorn tucked his pen into his coat pocket, floated the clipboard up against his side, and turned to leave. “I’m afraid, Mr. Apple,” he began, his tone indicating that he had no emotional investment with his patient at all, “that you’re completely sterile. Good day, do see the receptionist about your bill.” With that, he departed, leaving the door open behind him. Both earth ponies stared at the doorway, mouths hanging open in shock.

“Mac?” Cheerilee ventured. “Are you okay?”

Big Macintosh closed his mouth, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “Ah... don’t rightly know. Ah’m a bit shook up at the moment, an’ it’s takin’ a bit to sink in.” He shook his head. “But Ah know for a fact one o’ the first things Ah’m gonna do is give Caramel a good, long hug. Ah don’t know how he managed t’ avoid goin’ crazy with that for a dad.”

Cheerilee nodded, then managed a slight smile. “Just a hug?”

“Well, normally Ah’d say it’d be more’n that. Ah just don’t know after that bit o’ news.”

Quietly, she watched him leave. “I can’t say I can blame you for that.”

Deep in thought, Big Macintosh headed for his home.

~~~~~

Big Macintosh leaned against one of the porch’s posts and sighed again. He could make out his sister and Rainbow Dash’s voices, though what they were saying was too muffled to understand.

Ah’m just delayin’ the inevitable, Ah know, he thought, staring at the door. He really didn’t want to have to explain his mood to Applejack, because he knew she’d get bent out of shape over it, and then he’d have to explain why he was so... out of sorts, and that’d only make things worse.

He was saved by the door banging open and a multi-colored blur of pegasus pony smacking into him. Fortunately for him, she hadn’t had a chance to build up speed. “Huf! Dash, what’s goin’ on?”

“Heeeeey, Big Mac! Soooo, BraeburnjusttriedtomakeoutwithSoarin’andifIfindhimcanyoutalktohimaboutyourcousin? Great, thanks!”

With that she was gone.

“Now jus’ what’s she gone and gotten me into?” he muttered as he peered into the house. “AJ? What’s all this about Brae and ‘Soarin’’?”

“It’s a long story, Macintosh. Sit down an’ I’ll fill ya in.”

Cloudy Nights

Big Macintosh scrubbed at his face. “All right, first things first. Ah’ll check on Brae, then see if Soarin’ shows up. It’s dark out, so Luna only knows if Dash can find ‘im.”

“I’ll get everything here cleaned up,” Applejack replied, looking at the mess the kitchen was in.

Mac grinned as he stood. “Ah don’t know, it’s still better’n the time you and Caramel decided t’ have a food fight when company was due.”

“Big Macintosh, I know for a fact you didn’t see that, so how-”

“Rainbow Dash told me,” he shot back with a smile as he left. It quickly faded as he made his way to Brae’s room. Ah’m not lookin’ forward to this... Celestia, what a day... “Brae? Y’ fit for company?”

“... No.” Braeburn’s voice was barely audible.

Big Macintosh sighed. “Brae, Ah’ll give you a minute t’ get ready, an’ then Ah’m comin’ in.” He strained his ears when he heard a quiet thump, and nodded to himself as he heard the soft shuffle of hooves.

The door opened a crack, and a reddened, tear-filled eye stared back at him. “At least ya waited fer me t’ open it this time,” Braeburn managed.

“Now, Ah don’t have a reason t’ barge on in this time,” Mac rumbled, waiting for the family houseguest to make enough space before entering the room. He nosed the door shut before turning to the distraught Appleloosan. “Y’ want t’ talk about it?”

Braeburn sniffled. “Not really.”

“Brae...” Macintosh sighed. “Ah don’t know about y’ sometimes. You’re one o’ the brightest family members Ah have, but when it comes t’ your personal life y’ make some of the worst decisions Ah’ve ever saw.”

“I thought he might like me...” Brae mumbled.

“Well... maybe he did. But y’ couldn’t think of a better way t’ find out?” Macintosh sat on the side of the bed and patted his cousin’s shoulder.

“Y’ just don’t get it.”

“An’ just what is it Ah don’t get?”

Braeburn scrubbed at his eyes with a hoof and flung himself atop the bed. “Y’ got Caramel, AJ’s got Rainbow Dash... and y’ just seem so happy and I’m stuck on this farm. Then the pegasus shows up, he’s kinda cute, an’ I think I might have a chance, but...” at that point, anything else that could be heard dissolved into blubbering.

Big Mac screwed his eyes shut; he could feel a headache coming on. “Is that why y’ were such an ass t’ Caramel?”

His cousin inhaled sharply, mucus reverberating in his sinuses, and Big Macintosh winced at the noise. “M... maybe.”

“And y’ never considered, Ah dunno, talkin’ to anypony ‘bout this?”

“Y’ said it yerself, cousin. I don’t make th’ best pers’nal decisions.”

“Ah’ll say,” the red Apple muttered, then lightly tapped Braeburn’s cast. “This’s supposed t’ come off sometime next week, am Ah right?”

Brae nodded. “Next Tuesday.”

Big Macintosh stared at the ceiling.” Well, maybe when y’ can move around more, y’ can go visit Ponyville proper, maybe talk t’ Soarin’ more. Though Ah’d have to suggest that y’ not see Doctor Stable when y’ get it removed.”

Curious, Braeburn lifted his head and blinked a few times. “Why not?”

“Well, Ah was in t’ see him earlier today, an’ Ah have t’ say, his bedside manner’s sorely lackin’.”

The Appleloosan frowned as he stared at his cousin. “Why’re you at the doc’s? Ya seem t’ be fit as a fiddle t’ me.”

“Long story, cousin.”

“I got time.”

“... Ah ran into Cheerilee.”

Brae lifted his eyebrows. “An’ that has what t’ do with the doc?”

Mac grit his teeth. “She brought up some history an’... oh, buck it. The doctor says Ah can’t have foals.”

Braeburn’s eyebrows furrowed as he processed this. “You, infertile? You? Th’ most sought-after stallion in the Apple family?” He stuffed a hoof in his mouth to stifle his laughter. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t, but...” Despite his attempts, Brae broke out into quiet giggles while his cousin glowered at him.

“Ah’m so glad Ah can bring such joy t’ your poor, broken heart,” Big Mac griped. “Remind me, who was tryin’ to reassure who?”

It took a few more minutes, but the Appleloosan managed to regain his composure. “So, uh, aside from the blow to your machismo, what’s the problem?”

Mac glowered at the still-sniggering pony. “Ah can’t have foals! That’s kinda a problem all on its own, wouldn’t y’ think?!”

Braeburn, still smiling, scratched at his nose. “Oh, I dunno, I think it’d be important... if’n you were sleepin’ with a mare. Unless there’s somethin’ about Caramel you neglected t’ mention, I can’t see it comin’ up... metaphorically speakin’.”

Big Macintosh spluttered a few times, and Brae took the opportunity to keep going.

“In fact, y’ ought to be thankful for it! If’n what I heard about yer past, you’d have a whole barnful o’ foals running around Sweet Apple Acres... not t’ mention all the mares ya’d have had t’ placate, the family name gettin’ run through the mud hereabouts...” he grinned over at his cousin, who was outright sulking.

“Ah don’t have t’ like it.”

“I’m not askin’ ya to like it. Just stop whinin’ and do somethin’ other than sit around in yer room avoidin’ everypony!” Braeburn paused and added, “an’ if what I’ve overheard from you an’ cousin AJ talkin’, it’s not like Caramel’s too upset, right?”

Macintosh squelched the urge to shoot back that Braeburn should take his own advice, instead going with the less antagonizing route. “Ah haven’t told ‘im about it yet.”

Braeburn scoffed. “That’s not my point. Look, you’ve been sterile fer years, right? An’ you’ve been spendin’ some... quality time with ‘im for what, a few months? An’ he’s not complained ‘bout anything, right? Then what makes y’ think he’s gonna start now?” The yellow pony rubbed at his face and sniffled a few times, trying to erase the evidence of his crying fit.

“So, what, y’ want me to just go tell all of Ponyville ‘bout it, then?”

Braeburn held a hoof to his head. “Celestia, no. Just... don’t let it get to ya like this, is all I’m askin’.”

“Fine, Ah’ll do it... if you’ll start actin’ like the old cousin Brae we all know an’... tolerate.”

“Big Macintosh, I will kick you.”

He grinned. “That’s more like it.” The oldest of the Apple siblings stood and streched. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Ah need t’ see if Dash found your latest crush.”

He made it to the door before the pillow hit the back of his head.

~~~~~

“‘Oh, I’ll go find him’,” Rainbow Dash griped to herself. “What a brilliant idea, looking for a blue pegasus, with a blue mane, as dusk falls!” She swore quietly and kicked the nearest cloud. “I’d have better luck trying to convince Fluttershy to go to a mane metal concert!”

She gave the slightly overcast sky a few more passes before giving up and flopping backwards onto the nearest cloud.
“Just my luck, too. Man, if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s Applejack’s cousin, I’d never have volunteered for this. Horseapples, I’ve told him to go jump in a lake!”

She stared up at the darkening sky and the first few twinkling stars, and narrowed her eyes.

That cloud’s a bit too high up... and all by itself? She smirked. Soarin’, I’ve found you.

A quick flick of her wings was all it took to get up to the suspicious weather phenomenon. “Hey, head honcho of the Wonderbolts! Whatcha doin’ up here?”

Soarin’ was lying spread-eagle on his back, staring up at nothing. “Stuff.”

Dash’s eyebrows met. His voice was deeper than usual, and despite his appearance, he seemed less... out of it. “Okay, what’s going on here?”

The Wonderbolt’s expression remained the same, though he did bite at his lip. “Long or short version?”

Okay, she thought, this isn’t the same Soarin’ I’ve met before. Something’s up.

“Short version? I’m supposed to get you back to the Apples soon.”

“Spitfire put me on leave because she thinks I’m overworking, I came here because of the pie I got at the Grand Galloping Gala, and then I get kissed by somepony I barely know. And now I’m wondering exactly where my life went wrong.”

“All right, I don’t know where to begin with most of that, but you have been overdoing it. I’ve watched your practices, and you’re the first one on and the last one off the field, every time.”

“I’m one of the wing leaders, it’s expected of me!”

“And Spitfire’s the lead Wonderbolt, and even she knows when to tone it down.”

“I don’t have to listen to this,” Soarin’ groused, flipping over onto his stomach and closing his eyes.

Dash planted her hooves on her hips. “Maybe not, but I said I’d get your backside to Sweet Apple Acres, and I’m gonna do it, one way or another!”

Soarin’s response was to snort loudly and screw his eyes tighter... only to snap them open and dart them about a second later, when his perch started moving. “That’s not fair!”

“Tell it to the judge, pie-hips!”

Panicked, the Wonderbolt started flapping his wings in an attempt to counter the mare’s pushing. “I could have you written up for this!” he bellowed.

“Hah! Nice try, I’m not a Wonderbolt yet! And what’d it say, ‘Rainbow Dash was forcing me to face my problems’? Like that’d fly!”

Soarin’ groaned and redoubled his efforts, and was mildly heartened to see his movement slow further.

“Oooh, somepony wants to play hardball! Well, let’s see how you handle this!”

He let out a loud yelp as his hard work went to naught, and he and his cloud shot towards the house he’d so recently vacated. “I’m not going back there!”

Rainbow Dash gave her victim a sly smirk, then suddenly began spinning the cloud, disorienting him further. The Wonderbolt squeaked and clung as tightly to his roost as he could.

Oh, that’d be a waste of pie, he groaned as his stomach protested. He was used to stunts, but this was new, unpleasant, and out of his control. To his great relief, the horrible movement stopped.

As soon as he felt safe enough to open his eyes, Dash used the last trick she had: inverting his cloud, and him on it.

He hit the ground with a quiet thud, and the mare gave him a taunting salute as she absconded with his former resting place. “See ya around, blue boy! Big Mac’s got my back.”

Soarin’ blinked a bit and craned his head back further... and let out a defeated sigh when he saw Big Macintosh looking down at him expressionlessly.

“Ah’m pleased t’ see you, too.”

Soarin’ covered his face with his hooves. “All right, just... get it over.”

Nothing happened for long enough that the pegasus finally peeked out from behind his hooves. To his bemusement, Big Mac was holding out one of his hooves to help him up.

Soarin’ took it and hauled himself upright, and spent a few moments dusting himself off and putting his feathers back in place. Throughout it all, the Apple remained silent.

Finally, the Wonderbolt cracked. “Just what it is it you want from me?” he challenged.

Big Macintosh plucked a hay stem from his collar, inspected it closely, and and chewed on it placidly, seemingly thinking the question over, much to his guest’s growing annoyance. “Ah suppose,” he finally said, “that Ah want t’ hear your side o’ things.”

“My side of things? Well, let’s see... your relative almost poisoned me, then made me what looked like something halfway edible, and then kissed me when I was about to actually eat something.”

The stem of grass flicked to the other side of Big Mac’s mouth. “Ah concede it might ba mite unexpected, but where’s the problem?”

“Where is the problem?”

“Eeeeyup.”

Soarin’ stared at Macintosh, jaw working silently.

“Th’ way Ah see it, there can be more’n one problem here. So, was it th’ fact that y’ got a kiss, th’ fact that it was from a stallion, or th’ fact that it was cousin Brae who did the kissin’. Ah’d not take offense if’n it were th’ last, Ah know how Braeburn can get under a pony’s skin.”

Soarin’ shut his muzzle, and Big Macintosh noted with some pleasure that the other stallion seemed to be thinking about the answer, rather than just making a snappy reply.

“It’s all three,” he finally admitted in a voice so hushed Mac barely heard him.

“All three? Ah must say, Ah wasn’t expectin’ that for a reply. So, since Ah’ve got nowhere t’ be, an’ Ah don’t think you do either, how ‘bout y’ tell me about it?”

Instead of answering, Soarin’ sat down and crossed his legs. Then uncrossed them. Big Mac took the opportunity to gaze at the stars and moon, until finally Soarin’ sighed hard.

“If I tell you, do you promise not to tell anypony else?”

Macintosh chewed his hay for what felt like hours to the pegasus. “Y’ know,” Mac rumbled, engrossed in examining the stem between his teeth, “Ah can’t promise that, seein’ as Ah don’t know what y’ have t’ say. And, since it affects my family and all, Ah don’t know if Ah’d be keepin’ it if Ah did promise you.”

“At least you’re honest about it,” Soarin’ complained.

“And y’ haven’t left yet, so Ah’m guessin’ deep down, y’ want t’ tell somepony ‘bout it. Why not me?”

Soarin’ opened his mouth to make a retort, then hesitated. The only reasons that came to mind seemed silly while sitting on a farm porch at night. He wasn’t in Cloudsdale, there wasn’t the rabid fanbase for the Wonderbolts out here; in fact, half the time he went out in public in Ponyville he was totally ignored, and the other half he was only given the attention of an unfamiliar face.

Barring Rainbow Dash, of course, but Dash already knew about him. Or at least his public persona. “Okay, you win.”

Big Macintosh smiled slightly. “So, startin’ at the beginnin’. Why’s it so bad that y’ got a kiss?”

“Well, uh...” Soarin’ started speaking, hesitated, coughed a few times, made a thorough exploration of the planks under him with his eyes, tried to identify any number of new constellations, and finally snuck a glance at Big Macintosh.

Who looked like he wasn’t paying any attention.

“Do you care or not?” Soarin’ snapped.

Macintosh shrugged. “Ah care, Ah’m just waitin’ for y’ to get around to it.”

Soarin’ dropped his head, sighed, and in a wretched tone, finished his earlier sentence. “I haven’t... look, for the last seven years, I’ve not had a date. On purpose.”

Big Mac scratched at his chin. “Ah can see why a kiss could come as a bit o’ a shock. Somethin’ wrong with stallions, then?”

The Wonderbolt clamped his eyes shut. “Only that it’s easier to laugh it off from a mare.”

The Apple chewed on the grass in his mouth for a moment or two. “Ah take it that the two answers are related.”

“Yes, yes they are.” Soarin’ covered his eyes with his hooves. “I tried dating one of the other Wonderbolts, it ended badly - really badly. Lawyers were involved, there were rumors and photographs and accusation of scandal flying around... Just not trying again was safer.”

Mac winced. “Ah’m sorry t’ hear that. Ah’ve not always had th’ best of luck either, but not as bad as you.”

“Yeah, well, there you have it.”

“And m’ cousin? Ah assume you don’t think much of him from how he’s actin’.”

Soarin’ rubbed at his face. “That’s not helping, but... look, how old is he?”

“Just a few years younger’n Ah am, not that Ah’d say that matters much.”

“I’m old enough to be your father.”

“Well, that-” Big Mac blinked as his train of thought slammed into a brick wall. “Care t’ repeat that?”

“I’m not a young pony, Big Macintosh. I’m the reason the current Wonderbolts are around - Celestia disbanded the original company about two centuries ago.”

“And y’ decided t’ bring ‘em back?”

Soarin’ uncovered his eyes and looked at the sky. “Sure. The old Wonderbolts were a military group, but after eight hundred years, they weren’t doing much, so Celestia got rid of them. I proposed, well, recreating them the way they are now, as the best fliers in Equestria. Give pegasi something to strive for, you know?”

“Ah suppose Ah can understand that,” replied Big Macintosh, crushing a portion of hay stem between his teeth. “So y’ aren’t that much of a fightin’ group any more? You Wonderbolts are always the first to deal with trouble, it seems.”

“Well, yes. We’re the first responders, but it’s more of a stopgap for the Royal Guardsponies. If we can deal with it, great, if not, better help’s on the way.”

Mac grunted. “Makes sense, but we kinda got distracted from the real question here. What’s wrong with Brae?”

Soarin’ drooped. “I thought I told you. For one, I’m too old, for another, he’s...”

“A jackass, Ah know. But y’ don’t look your age, so it’s not like Braeburn’d know, and Ah can tell y’ he’s not usually like how y’ saw him. Well,” he added conscientiously, “not manners an’ such. He kinda always makes passes at ponies he finds attractive.”

“Hah,” the Wonderbolt snorted, “that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

Mac grinned around his hay stem. “Made y’smile at least.”

The statement made Soarin’ lift a hoof and waggle it threateningly at the other stallion, but with no actual malice behind it.

“Look, Ah’m not gonna force it on y’ or anythin’, but it’s gettin’ late an’ we should probably be gettin’ to bed soon. You’ll be comin’ back to talk t’ my cousin, right?” At Soarin’s disbelieving eyebrow, Big Macintosh sighed. “Just t’ talk. He’s sorely lackin’ in friends.”

“I... suppose I can do that at least.”

“G’night then, Soarin’.” With that, the Apple took his leave, and the Wonderbolt followed suit, flying slowly to the hotel he slept in, deep in thought.

Upon re-entering his home, Mac was entirely unsurprised to find Applejack waiting for him.

“So, how’d it go?” she asked without preamble.

Big Mac shrugged. “Ah suppose as well as possible. He said he’d come back to talk to Brae, so that’s that.”

AJ snorted. “Better than I ‘spected, ‘specially with Braeburn being, well, Braeburn. G’night, Macintosh. We’ll deal with the rest of this mess in the mornin’!”

Mac nodded and followed her up the stairs, then parted ways with her in the hallway. He collapsed onto his bed and stared at the Smarty Pants doll. Soarin’, old enough t’ be my father. Brae, y’ sure can pick ‘em...

~~~~~

The next morning found Applejack and Big Macintosh just putting the final touches on a now-spotless kitchen when Apple Bloom stumbled through the door with tears in her eyes.

AJ and Big Mac shared a look, but before either could ask what the matter was, the filly started sobbing uncontrollably.

“Granny ain’t wakin’ up!”

Caramel Covered Apples

Caramel closed his eyes and slumped against the nearest tree. Though he’d spent an entire afternoon out on Sweet Apple Acres helping to harvest the crop, there was barely a dent in the small section he’d been told was his responsibility as an applebucker.

A faint whicker escaped his lips. Really, the only reason he’d even come to the farm was to help his crush with the apples. His crush who had no clue about Caramel’s interest.

And, if Caramel had anything to do with it, his crush would never find out.

“Heeeeeeeey, Caramel!”

The colt blinked and looked up. Charging at him at high speed were the three young ponies who had dubbed themselves the “Cutie Mark Crusaders”; despite his foul mood, he felt a small smile cross his muzzle. Whatever trouble the trio caused - and they could cause quite a bit - no one really held it against them. Their sheer zeal and joy in their continuous drive to find their cutie marks made nearly everypony smile as they recalled how they found their own.

“How can I help you, Apple Bloom?” he asked, courteously nodding to the other two.

Scootaloo, unsurprisingly, butted in. “How’d you get your cutie mark, Caramel?”

The earth pony winced. “I, uh... I don’t remember.”

The Cutie Mark Crusaders stared at him, mouths agape.

The first to recover was Sweetie Belle. “How can you not remember?! It’s the defining moment of a pony’s life!”

Caramel turned his head away. “I fell down some stairs. It gave me a concussion, and when I could think straight, I had my mark.” He really didn’t like the reminder of his perpetual clumsiness, but he felt he did need to answer them honestly.

Much as he might wish otherwise.

Admittedly, it was at least something he could pin his life of bad luck on. And as much as it rankled, his sister had gotten her mark at the exact same time.

Except her mark seemed to symbolize her good fortune. Caramel’s horseshoes overflowed with bad karma, while his sister’s poured out blessings.

The same accident, where he fell down the stairs thanks to an ill-placed scooter, resulted in his sister ducking both brother and ride.

He was abruptly dragged back to the present at the sound of Scooter’s mumbling.

“Wow, I didn’t know you could get a cutie mark for being really unlucky...”

Sweetie Belle nodded. “I hope that never happens to me.”

“Yeah!” chimed in Apple Bloom. “That’d really stink!”

Caramel rolled his eyes. “I’m still here, you know.”

The Cutie Mark Crusaders at least had the decency to look embarrassed.

“We’re sorry!” they chorused before turning to trot down the hill, bickering amicably.

With a sigh, the colt went back to bucking, hooves slamming into the tree trunk and knocking few apples from the boughs. Much to his irritation, the section of orchard he had cleared was insignificant compared to the swaths cleaned out by Big Macintosh and Applejack.

The pony groaned and lifted his hind legs for one last kick against the tree behind him in a weak effort to get the last few fruits off the branches.

Unsurprisingly, they remained firmly attached by their stems. Caramel let out a disgusted grunt at the sight.

The tree shuddered as the sound of a horseshoe meeting the trunk sounded across the clearing and the apples obediently fell to earth with a light patter. Caramel blinked as Applejack sauntered around the tree.

“Saw you talkin’ to Apple Bloom an’ her friends,” the mare began. “They still goin’ on about gettin’ their cutie marks?”

Caramel nodded, cheeks heating at the ease with which the farm pony had showed him up. “I told them how I got mine. They weren’t impressed.”

“Well, Big Macintosh wanted me t’ pass on a message.” Applejack continued. Caramel felt his heartbeat quicken, despite himself.

“What did he have to say?”

“He said he appreciated y’ comin’ out to help with th’ harvest an’ all, but you’re not quite up t’ snuff for apple buckin’.”

“Oh.” Caramel shifted awkwardly on his hooves. He really wasn’t sure what else to say.

Applejack took pity on him. “Listen, sugarcube, it’s hard work an’ it takes a while before anypony’s up to it.”

The colt nodded meekly. “Is... there anything else I might be able to do? I don’t want to leave Big Macintosh in the lurch.”

Applejack laughed. “Oh, there’s plenty left t’ do! In fact,” she continued thoughtfully, looking the other pony over, “if’n you didn’t mind, I think you’d make a good runner.”

Caramel’s ears perked. “What’s a runner do?”

Applejack flicked her tail at a particularly bothersome fly as she spoke. “Oh, runners relay messages all over th’ farm, bring drinks to th’ workers, that sorta thing.”

The tan earth pony blushed, thinking of the chance to spend more time with Big Mac. “I guess I can give that a try...”

“Jus’ go tell Granny Smith, Caramel, she’s in charge of th’ runners.”

Caramel nodded and trotted off, heart pumping. It wasn’t quite the impression he’d wanted to make on Big Macintosh, but surely the stallion would understand why he wasn’t quitting after being told he wasn’t good enough.

Much to Caramel’s annoyance, every single job he had as a runner took him nowhere near his crush. If he were a more cynical pony, he would have blamed Granny Smith for intentionally keeping him as far from the red pony as possible. Instead, he chalked it up to his terrible luck.

Soon, though, he didn’t even have time for that; Granny Smith had him galloping across the length and breadth of Sweet Apple Acres, over and over, from one pony to the next.

Of course, his bad luck was in full force, and more than once he tripped and spilled the water he was carrying, or ran to the wrong pony or the wrong side of the farm.

Despite the setbacks, he continued on, doing his best to correct the mistakes he made. When he dropped a pitcher, he came back with two. When he stopped to talk to the wrong pony, he asked if he could run any errands for them.

He might not be the most efficient worker on the farm, but he had heart and dedication!

That was what he kept telling himself at least, and he was sure he heard his name mentioned between ponies as he trotted off, though he wasn’t sure what exactly they were saying.

As dusk began to fall, the weary pony was finally told to go talk to Big Macintosh. Specifically, he was told to pack it in for the night and to come have supper with the family and the hired help.

Eagerly, if tiredly, he headed out into the orchards, looking for the large red colt.

It took him several tries, roaming over the fields, before he found him. Carefully, his heart fluttering in his chest, he stepped forward...

And promptly pitched forward down the hill, his worn-out legs and hooves giving out on him, sending him tumbling tail over teakettle. It finally ended with a rather dazed pony lying in a pile at the foot of the hill - and at the hooves of his crush.

“Evenin’ Caramel,” drawled the bigger colt, before he gently helped him to his feet.

The brown earth pony nodded vaguely, still shaken. Big Macintosh waited without comment.

It took some time, but eventually Caramel got his bearings back. “Oh, er,” he began, shuffling on his hooves. “Granny Smith says you should come in for dinner.”

The sprig of wheat in Big Macintosh’s mouth switched from one side to the other before he spoke. “Ah reckon Ah can’t do that yet.”

Caramel’s heart sank as he realized Big Mac was standing in the same grove he’d tried and failed to clear earlier.

“I - I’m sorry I couldn’t do the job properly,” Caramel babbled. “I really tried, but Applejack said I wasn’t good enough, even though I did my best, and -”

Big Macintosh stopped him with a glance, then returned his gaze to the orchard. “‘T ain’t that.”

This time the colt followed the red pony’s eyes to the shattered decanter lying forlornly in the dirt. Caramel blushed.
“S - sorry, Big Macintosh. I’ll clean it up.”

Big Mac nodded and stepped forward as well, carefully picking up the shards of broken glass with his teeth and depositing them in the rather squashed basket Caramel had used to carry it.

The pair did their best in the rapidly-dwindling light, but eventually, and much sooner than Caramel would have liked, Big Mac called a halt.

“Come on, I can still see a few pieces,” Caramel insisted, tilting his head a bit.

“Caramel,” his crush replied, “‘t ain’t whether you can see it. We missed dinner, an’ Granny’s goin’ to tan our hides if’n we don’t show soon.”

“Oh, right...” Caramel shuffled awkwardly on his hooves again, then flushed as his stomach complained loudly. The red pony took no notice as he lead the way back toward the house - at least, that was what his companion thought until Big Macintosh stopped.

Caramel, typically, ran right into his haunches.

Apologizing, he trotted off to the side while the larger stallion gave him an amused and unnoticed glance. “Ah heard your belly rumblin’ back there. Ah could go for a bite m’self.” With that, Big Macintosh plucked an apple from one of the carts nearby, and with surprising daintiness, offered it to the tan earth pony.

Caramel took it without complaint, mumbling a “thank you” around his mouthful. Big Macintosh just nodded and dropped a few more into his saddlebags, taking one for himself.

“Y’did good work, Caramel.”

“R - really? Applejack said -”

Big Mac interrupted him. “Applejack just said, an’ Ah told her t’ tell you, that you’ll never make an applebucker.”

Caramel sighed, and Big Mac flipped his grass stem to the opposite side of his muzzle.

“You’re no farm pony anyhow, Caramel. No need t’ try t’ make yourself into one.”

“But -” Caramel began before immediately clamping up. His companion eyed him curiously, then prompted him to continue with a raised hoof.

“There’s somepony I really like who works at Sweet Apple Acres, and I don’t want to disappoint... them.”

The pair continued on in silence for a bit longer before Big Macintosh spoke again. “‘T ain’t m’ sister Applejack, is it? That why you’re so worried ‘bout what she told you?”

Caramel found himself flushing again, and berated himself for it; he’d been blushing more today than he had in months. “No, it’s not Applejack.”

The quiet dropped again for a few paces, punctuated by Big Macintosh chewing on his straw.

“Well, have y’ told the filly you’d like to take her out for a canter or two behind the barn? Ah heard that’s th’ latest way t’ ask.”

The tan earth pony took a deep swallow, his throat dry. “She... erm... it’s not a filly I’m interested in, Big Macintosh.”

There was no reply, though the stallion did roll an eye back to stare at the very uncomfortable pony walking with him. “Hadn’t pegged you as a coltcuddler, Caramel,” rumbled the red pony, and that was all.

“You’re not mad?”

Big Macintosh rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “‘T ain’t none o’ my business what two stallions or mares get up to in private.”

“Even if I’m interested in you?”

Wind blew through the leaves, rustled the grass, and ruffled the ponies’ manes. Caramel cursed his luck again. He hadn’t meant to say that, had never daydreamed about just telling the object of his affection - though to be honest, he’d never really shown Big Mac any affection, just sighed wistfully from afar - like this. Dreading, he braced himself for the answer he knew was coming.

Big Macintosh was going to shoot him down. Caramel scrunched his eyes shut, ready to have his hopes crushed.

Nothing happened.

Nothing happened for so long that the nervous pony cracked an eye open to glance at his crush.

Big Mac appeared to be thinking, the stem in his mouth flicking from side to side and back again, his eyes locked on Caramel’s face, his head tilted in concentration. “Ah hadn’t put too much thought inta it, Caramel. Ah figured Ah’d always do what came naturally.”

Caramel let out his breath in an explosive sigh. He was being let down. Let down nicely, but let down.

“Harvest’s too busy a time t’ go courtin’ anyway. Ah’ll let y’ know in a few days when Ah’ve got some time t’ spare on m’ hooves, an’ we can see what happens then.” Big Mac lifted his gaze from the pony to the Apple family house. “If’n you’re still interested, a’ course.”

Caramel stared in shock, then began to grin goofily, and finally let out a whoop of joy that could be heard across all of Sweet Apple Acres.

It also brought the wrath of Granny Smith down on the pair, who spent a good half hour haranguing them for missing dinner and making her worry so much about them.

Regardless, Caramel trotted home with a wide smile and a light heart.

Maybe his luck wasn’t all bad.