As soon as he opened the door, the bright expression on his face drooped into disappointment. "Oh. It's just you."

Misty rolled her eyes. "Well, it's great to see you too, Soarin'!"

He glanced away before she could catch the look in his eyes. "I... sorry. I thought you were the pizza."

"Ooh, pizza?" she said as she elbowed her way into his room. "Awesome! I'm starving!"

Soarin' frowned, watching her flop down on the duvet. "Uh, sure, come on in. Make yourself at home."

"I hope you didn't order anything gross." She tucked her hindlegs under her in a half-sitting position as she shuffled off her saddlebags. "I'm allergic to artichoke. You didn't get anything with---"

"Misty, why are you here?"

"Jeez, now you and Spitfire are acting pissy," she said easily, using her feather-tips to unbuckle her bag. "You wanna tell me what's going on?"

He let out a deep, chest-clearing sigh and looked off to the side. "No," he mumbled. "And if you're here to lecture me about how I was off my game today, well, don't bother. Spitfire already reamed me out."

"Heh... reamed you out."

Instantly his head snapped back up. "What? What's funny about that?!"

"Nothing," she said with that little smirk of hers that always made him uncomfortable.

Soarin' groaned and tried to rub away the headache that was forming in his temples. "Look, I... I appreciate you dropping by, but... I kinda want to be alone right now." He used a back hoof to inch the door open a bit more. Hint, hint.

"Really? Gee, that's a shame." Still grinning, she angled her open bag towards him so that he could see its contents. "I guess that means I'll have to drink this bottle of premium whiskey aaaall on my own."

His ears perked up---he recognized the filigreed label on the bottle, which assured him it was indeed top-notch stuff. Sacrificing a bit of his time and a few slices of pizza would be worth it! "Uh... okay."

"C'mon." She patted the bed, and he took his place next to her, if a bit reluctantly. Cracking the wax off the cork with her teeth, Misty passed the bottle over to him, and he took an appreciative swig, wincing at the sharp alcoholic burn.

"How long before the pizza gets here?"

"I dunno. A few more minutes, maybe."

She watched him slowly scuff the tip of his hoof back and forth across the carpet. "Soarin'. C'mon, man. What's going on?"

"Nothing."

"Seems like a pretty big 'nothing'." She took a shot of her own. "A big enough 'nothing' to make you clip your wings twice, and nearly take out Blaze when we were doing the Theta Formation---"

"Look, I told you Spitfire already gave me grief about it!" He pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged them protectively. "Isn't it bad enough that ten thousand fans watched me make an ass of myself without you rubbing it in?"

"I'm not rubbing it in," she corrected him. "I'm just talking. Y'know... friend-to-friend."

Soarin' watched her take another shot, and grabbed the bottle. "Yeah? Since when are you my friend?"

Misty wiped her lips with the back of her hoof. "Since I nearly got fired, and you let me cry in your arms."

He paused, the bottle an inch from his lips. "You remember that?!"

The knock at the door made him jump, and if it weren't for Misty's quick reflexes, the eighty-bit bottle would have shattered on the floor.

"Yo! Somepony order a pizza?"

Misty nursed the bottle, watching as Soarin' fumbled with a bag of bits. It made them both crack a smile when the delivery colt asked for an autograph in lieu of a tip---and Soarin' gave him both.

"Did you really give him twenty-five bits for a an eighteen-bit order?" she asked as he brought the steaming box back to the bed. "That's, like, more than a twenty percent tip."

"The autograph might not be worth much anymore," he muttered.

"Hey, c'mon. Just because you fucked up a performance doesn't mean you'll lose your fans."

"...Yeah." He checked the level of booze in the bottle; they'd drunk it down to the top of the label. Still plenty to get them both drunk. In fact, he was feeling a little woozy already. "Thanks for the whiskey. It'll help me sleep."

"You do look tired," she said with her mouth full. "Even more than usual. No offense."

"None taken," he said, prying a piece free of the melted cheese strings. "I tossed and turned all night."

"Soarin', is this really about a bad night's sleep?"

He quickly stuffed half a slice in his muzzle. "Yes," he snapped.

"...Or is this about the whole coltcuddling-blackmail thing?"

A chunk of pizza crust shot into his larynx, and it took Misty vigorously slapping his back before he managed to cough it back out.

"She told you?!" he hacked in between breaths.

"Well, duh."

"Aw man!" Soarin' moaned. He flopped back onto the bed and draped a foreleg over his burning face. "By midnight tonight everypony on the team's gonna know!"

"Hey, calm down." She put a reassuring hoof on his back and rubbed it between his shoulderblades. "I'm the only one she told."

"How can you be sure?"

"Spitfire sent me to guard his room," she answered. After taking a swig of her liquor, she offered him the bottle. "She kinda felt the need to let me in on it.... after I nagged her, of course."

"This sucks!" He choked down three cheek-puffing mouthfuls and rolled over on his belly, pressing his face into the pillow. "This sucks, this sucks, this suuuuuucks!"

She couldn't help but laugh to herself at the erratic way his wings were jerking around. "Jeez, Soarin'. You outweigh me by fifty pounds, and you're already drunk?"

"This sucks. Spitfire sucks! Everypony sucks!!!"

"Come to think of it, Spitfire does do a lot of sucking. And despite what her name might imply, she's known to swallow." When that didn't get a response, she swatted a hoof against his rump. "That was a joke, genius. You're supposed to laugh."

He took the bottle in one hoof and used the other to pull a the pillow over his head. "Not really in the laughing mood, Misty."

With a sigh, she lay herself down on the bed next to him, gently patting between his wings. "Come on, Soarin'. It's not that bad."

He slowly lifted his head. "Not... that... bad?!"

"No. It's not the worst scandal we've had to deal with. At least you got caught with a live stallion... and not a dead mare." She shuddered at the memory.

"It's still bad!" He sucked at the bottle til it was taken away from him. "My dad's gonna kill me!"

Misty sniggered. "Oh yeah, we wouldn't want that. He might not let you go to prom." That only made him pull away from her, taking the whiskey with him, so she added "If I were you, I'd be more worried about Spitfire. I haven't seen her this angry since... well, you know."

He mumbled something into his folded forelegs.

"What?"

Rolling back over, Soarin' rubbed a hoof across his face a few times before repeating "I... told her didn't want to press charges. That's why she's so mad..."

"What?" she said again, propping her chin on her fetlock. "Why wouldn't you want to throw the book at this scuzbag?!"

"And have it blow up even more than it has?" He rubbed a hoof through his spiky mane. "I'm willing to pay just to make this go away."

"And, in doing so, you let him get away," she said with a prod. "All you had to do was give the Guards a description of the perp, and they would've caught him. They wouldn't need to know the nitty-gritty."

Soarin' snorted. "They might not have asked, but he could've told. You know how fast gossip flies through the ranks---remember Flash Sentry? He looked at the princess twice, and within a day they were all calling him 'The Prince Consort'." He tucked his legs around himself. "I don't even wanna think about what they'd call me."

"Hey." After taking her last drink, she checked the level of the booze, and offered the last hefty shot to Soarin'. "You know we'd have your back, right?"

"No. I don't know that."

"I hate to sound like a cliche, Soarin', but there's no 'I' in 'team'."

"...But there is one in 'blackmail'," he said glumly.

She sat up straighter, even though she was wobbling a bit. "Okay, you know what? No. This isn't the Soarin' I know. The Soarin' I know wouldn't go crawling away with his tail between his damn legs! The Soarin' I know would take action!"

"What kind of action can I take? I don't even know their names!"

"Whoa." She pried open the mini-bar and took out two tiny bottles, tossing one to Soarin'. "You let him pound you, and you don't even know his name?"

"Not the point!" He downed the vodka in one gulp. "And I was doing the pounding, thank you very much."

"Wow, way more than I needed to know." Misty cleared out the rest of the mini-bar---the Wonderbolts considered all room expenses to be part of business travel, so it was covered---and dumped the bottles on the bed. She plunked herself down between them and her teammate, and took his muzzle in her hooves. "Now you listen to me. Grow a pair and do something about this."

He tried to pull away, but she held fast. "Like what, Misty? What the fuck am I supposed to do?!"

Yanking him closer, she whispered "Easy. Steal his thunder."

"Huh?"

She brushed her tail over the bottles, making them clink together, and gave him a wicked grin. "I've got a great idea, Soarin', but... I think we should get a little drunker before I tell you."

The market square was usually bustling, but today barely a fraction of the usual ponies were milling about. Applejack tried not to groan as she set her stand up; with all the fuss and bother that had been going on at home, she'd forgotten it was a long weekend. Most of Ponyville had probably cleared out to head to the cottage, or to visit relatives. These were going to be three very long, boring hours.

With any luck, Twilight'll stop by and gimme somethin' to read, she mused as she opened up the bundle her sister had packed. This is a bad day fer me t'be stuck with my thoughts.

Then something occured to her---the courthouse would be closed on Monday, wouldn't it? At least that would give her one more day to figure out how to get out of marrying...

A smile broke across her face when she saw that Apple Bloom had slipped a note in with her snack. Under her cheery 'Have a good time at the market!!!!' was a sketch of a little filly hugging a balloon-bellied mare.

"Aw, Bloom," she said with a grin. "I ain't that big yet."

She glanced up just in time to make eye contact with Silver Spoon. Although Applejack offered her a weak smile, the filly just sneered in return and went trotting off behind her mother, who had made a point of passing by the stall with her snout in the air.

She frowned, folding up the drawing. Yeah, well, fuck you too.

The next half-hour trickled by with agonizing slowness. The only purchase---a single apple---came from Lily, who felt the need to inform her that a foal needed two parents, and that her second cousin was a very nice stallion if you didn't mind a dandruff problem, which he'd been getting treatment for, and he'd been looking for a date for some time, and was she interested? Applejack had said something curt through a forced smile about how it takes a village, and watched, grinding her teeth, as Lily went off whispering to Daisy.

Eventually the shadow of the clock tower touched the edge of her stall, meaning another half-hour had gone by. Sitting back so that she could look down at her abdomen, Applejack gave it a little pat and murmured "Well, I guess it's jes' you an' me, baby."

Her cervix jiggled, making her eyes cross, as the foal stretched itself out.

"Jeez, did you do that 'cause you heard me?"

It rolled around, and seemed to return to its normal curled-up position. Applejack chewed at her bottom lip as a surge of warmth went through her. She recalled how her Ma would lie on her side, stroking her pregnant swell and singing to Apple Bloom; she could even remember the time she'd tried to talk to her soon-to-be sister and felt a bump against her cheek. She grinned. She never grew tired of hearing Granny recount how 'Little Macky' would lie on top of his mother's belly, laughing and bouncing up and down from the kicking inside. 'We always knew you was made fer applebuckin',' she'd say.

"Good morning, Applejack. Am I interrupting a private moment?"

"Oh! Uh..." She looked up sheepishly, her hoof still on her belly. Finally, a friendly face! "Not at all."

"How've you been?"

She gave Cheerilee a quick once-over; while she looked as pulled-together as possible, the daubs of makeup didn't do much to hide the bags under her eyes. "Not so good, t'be honest." She put her chin on her hoof. "My brother's not talking to me."

She cracked a small smile. "Really? How can you tell?"

Applejack's lips thinned. "Cheerilee! That's not funny. And you of all ponies should know why!"

That seemed to take her aback, and after a moment, she blushed. "I... Oh, Applejack, you're right. I'm sorry!"

"It's oka---"

"I know I promised him I'd never make fun of him for that," she whispered as she looked away. "Please don't tell him what I said."

"Hey." Reaching over the counter, she took Cheerilee's cheek in her hoof and turned her face back so they were eye-to-eye again. "You doin' okay, hon?"

"...No." She opened her saddlebags. "I did want a couple of fritters, but that's not the real reason I came to see you. Um..."

Applejack nodded, watching as Cheerilee placed a few bits on the counter. She began to wrap up the fritters, and tried to ignore the prickle of worry going up her neck.

"You know Oakey Doke, right?" She didn't wait for an answer; she barely paused to take a breath. Her words came tumbling out, falling over each other: "Of course you have. You know everypony, even Berry's sponsor---she, um, she told me she's been AWOL, and Colgate hasn't---" Cheerilee grabbed a stray lock of her mane and placed it between her teeth, nipping at the split ends. It was a nervous habit that hadn't manifested in years. "She---It's---since last night. I know it's only been a day or so, but---"

"Cheerilee! Slow down!"

The spit-soaked hair fell out of her mouth. "W-what?"

"Jes' take me through this bit by bit," she said. After handing over the fritters, Applejack patted her on the shoulder and prompted "Go back to the part about the sponsor."

Again the tips of her mane went up to her mouth, but this time she just brushed them against her lips, avoiding Applejack's eyes. "Okay. I. Um. Sorry, I've just had too much coffee this morning."

"It's okay, sugarcube," she said with a smile. "It's a quiet day; there ain't nopony in line behind ya. Take all the time you need."

"Oakey Doke is Berry's sponsor," Cheerilee said, poking at the bag. "She came by my place at the crack of dawn and told me Berry's missed her last two meetings."

The backs of Applejack's ears were beginning to get warm. "Oh?"

"That's not like her; at least, not like her recently. She's made every meeting for the past four months. I... S-she told me a few days ago she was going to pitch in at Sweet Apple Acres, and I haven't heard from her since." She looked up. "I'm not accusing you of anything, though! I just thought you might know something."

Was that only yesterday afternoon? It seemed like an eternity now. After trying to swish the little saliva she had left around her dry mouth, she managed "Yeah, she came by. I saw her the other day."

"Did she tell you where she was going?"

She numbly shook her head.

"Did you notice which direction she was going?" she pressed on. "I mean, if you saw where she was headed, I could---"

"Cheerilee, I blew up at her!"

"...What?"

"I lost my temper with her," Applejack said, the hot shame churning in her throat. "I had my back turned when she left. I... I can't help you."

Her stomach cramped up in a pang when she saw the look on the older mare's face. She knew that look well---that sick, hollow loss of hope.

"...I'm sorry," she added, wincing at how lame it sounded.

"It's fine." She tossed her fritters in her saddlebag and half-turned to leave. "She's a big girl, and she makes her own decisions. It's not your fault."

"Cheerilee, wait."

She paused, one hoof still in the air.

"Next time I see Rainbow Dash, I-I'll get her t'do a scan a'the whole area!" she blurted. "She can cover all of Ponyville in a few minutes, an' she can sniff out gossip pretty quick, too."

"No, I'll ask her myself. Like I said, this isn't your fault." A crooked, unhappy smile formed. "To be honest, you look like you have enough on your mind."

It wasn't until Cheerilee touched her lightly on the cheek that Applejack let out her breath. "I sure do."

"Feel like sharing? Misery loves company, after all."

Her eyes wandered to Cheerilee's flank; even after all the years they'd known each other, it still surprised her how sweet the teacher could be. No wonder she was adorned with those smiling faces. "I know this ain't the best time t'ask fer a favour, but..."

"But?"

"But... couldja please try an' talk some sense inta Big MacIntosh?" Applejack forced a smile. "He wants me t'marry Flim---Flim! Can y'believe it? An' he won't listen to a damn word I say about it!"

"And you think I'll be able to change his mind? We both know how obstinate he can be."

"Try." She gathered Cheerilee's hooves in her own. "Please? He'll listen to you. He always has."

They looked each other in the eye for a long time before she answered, and when she did, the gloom on her face seemed to have lifted a little. "I'll do my best, Applejack."

"Thank you," she said, waving goodbye.

"By the way," Cheerilee called over her shoulder, "You have a little Cake on you."

Applejack rubbed her hoof across her face. "Cake? I wasn't eatin' any---WAUGH!"

She sure was glad she hadn't instinctively bucked her back legs, because when she glanced behind her to find the source of that---that alien sucking feeling, she saw something that made her jaw drop open: a little diapered foal had its head tucked under her bulging belly, and, yes, now she was sure she could feel hot, puckered lips wrapped around her nipple.

"I'm losin' my damn mind," she said shakily.

Her voice caught the foal's attention, and it popped its head out from under her to see who'd spoken. Once she found herself staring into familiar blue eyes, Applejack wasn't sure whether to laugh or scream. "Pumpkin Cake?!"

She gave her a "Gah!" and a two-toothed grin, then went back to nursing on her teat.

All she could do at this point was chuckle. "Hate to tell ya this, kiddo, but yer tappin' a dry keg."

"Oh my goodness! I am so, so sorry!"

Mrs. Cake was on them in an instant, and pried her daughter off with a 'pop'. Before she could say anything else, Pumpkin let out a squeal of anger, reaching her forelegs out to Applejack. "NO!"

The last she could remember, the twins had been nearly-helpless little bundles. How long ago had she first looked through that nursery window? "Holy cow! She's talkin' already?!"

"Well, she's learned how to say 'no'," Mrs. Cake answered drily. "I have a feeling it's going to be her favourite word."

She began beating her tiny hooves against the foreleg holding her in place. "No! No! No!"

"Now, Pumpkin, it's not nice to do that to other ponies," she scolded, smushing a pacifier against the next 'No'. Turning back to Applejack, she sighed and said "Again, dearie, I'm really sorry for that. We've been trying to wean her, and she hasn't been taking it very well."

"You don't say." Her eyes moved from Pumpkin's scowling face up to her mother's care-worn one. "Uh, where's the other one?"

"Last I checked, Carrot was trying to find a pegasus to get him out of a tree," she said as she bounced her baby up and down. "Ask me who used her first two teeth to chew through his leash."

The pacifier went flying through the air, and Applejack caught it with her tail before it could land in the dust. "You sure got yer hooves full," she said uneasily as she passed it back.

"Oh goodness," Mrs. Cake said with a smile. "I'm scaring the daylights out of you, aren't I?"

"W-what?"

She returned the pacifier to Pumpkin, and tucked the foal over her shoulder so she could pat her back. "I can see the fear in your eyes, Applejack. I'm sorry---I didn't mean to scare you."

Applejack coughed. She didn't know what she hated more---the fact that was was so readable, or that Flim had been right about it. "So, uh... can I getcha anything?"

"Oh! Yes, of course."

They completed the transaction as best they could; between a pregnant mare and one trying to juggle a squirming baby, hauling a bag of apples into saddlebags wasn't easy. Just as she was about to leave, Applejack called her back.

"Mrs. Cake," she said hesitantly, not entirely sure why she was doing this, "I... you musta heard all the rumours goin' around about me."

She just frowned in confusion. "And...?"

"And... well..." Applejack looked down at her hooves, pushing one against the other. "You always been so kind t'me, even after... all that you heard. I jes' wanted to thank ya. From the bottom a'my heart."

"Oh, dearie."

She only looked up when she felt a hoof on her shoulder.

"You were so lucky, you know," Mrs. Cake said in a tone that was laced with more sadness than Applejack had ever heard from her. "You could just... just... just like that. One night, one try, and you... were blessed."

She bit her lip, but didn't pull away from the touch. "'Blessed'?"

"Do you have any idea how long we tried?" she went on. Pumpkin, who had fallen asleep, pressed her drooling face against her mother's neck, and Mrs. Cake gently nuzzled her. "Five years, we tried. For five long years, I would cry every time the test came back negative. If it weren't for those hormonal supplements, I never would have known what being a mother is like."

Applejack tried to clear her throat, but it felt clogged.

Before she could move, the teased pouf in the front of of Mrs. Cake's mane pressed against her bangs, and she gasped in surprise.

"You're terrified, aren't you?"

Their faces were so close together that she could see the beginnings of crow's-feet around her eyes. Just as she was about to draw another breath, Mrs. Cake pulled away.

"Applejack," she said with her usual gentleness, "Fear is a natural part of motherhood."

"Wh--?!"

"If the thought of having a foal terrifies you, well... that means you're doing it right. It doesn't matter what anypony else says---I just know you'll be a good mother."

"...Thank you," she said quietly.

Mrs. Cake switched her sleeping daughter to the other shoulder. "Besides... I gave birth to a unicorn and a pegasus. What do you think they've been saying about me?"

"Oh, honey," came a voice from behind her. "The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about."

Applejack made a pffing noise between her lips. "Yeah, I s'pose you would know, Pokey."

"I wouldn't, really," he said, nodding to Mrs. Cake as she excused herself. "Everything you've heard about me is a lie. The reality's far worse."

At first she was about to say something snarky about that room at the back of his shop that was sealed off with a beaded curtain, but changed her mind when she remembered he'd been one of her few loyal customers. She was pretty sure that's where Rarity had bought her that Hearth's Warming present, anyway. "What're y'buyin' today?"

"Just the usual." He leaned an elbow on the counter. "Now, where's that handsome brother of yours?"

Applejack laughed. "How many times do I haveta tell ya? He don't swing that way."

"Yet," he said with a smile. "I bet you a hundred bits I can bring out his inner fag."

"I ain't usually a bettin' mare, but make it two hundred, and yer on." She began boxing up his pies. How he could maintain his figure with the kind of sugary diet he lived on was beyond her.

And what a figure it is, she thought with a little tingle.

"Speaking of bets, I couldn't help but notice you have a certain... gentlecolt caller hanging around Sweet Apple Acres," Pokey said idly as he rummaged for his money.

She nearly dropped the pie on the ground. "W-what?!"

His grin widened as he slid his bits across to her. "I saw Big MacIntosh dragging him out of the train the other day, and the only luggage he had on him was a shotgun." He tapped his forehead. "I can put two and two together, honey."

Part of her wanted to tell him to mind his own business, but for some reason she couldn't quite remember how to speak.

Pokey picked up an apple and took a bite, sliding over an extra bit. "I really thought you'd have better taste than that, Applejack. I mean, a good-looking gal like you and that scrawny little thing? I'm surprised you didn't snap him in half when you first did the beast with two backs!" His eyes flicked down to her belly. "I sure hope the kid gets your looks."

She grabbed the elbow he had leaning on the counter and yanked him closer. "Y'know, Pokey," she said icily, "I like you. Really I do. But if you keep talkin' like that, yer gonna get a hoof up yer ass!"

"Wouldn't be the first time," he answered easily as he pulled back. "You know, thanks to you, I lost a hundred bits. I could have sworn that boy played for my team."

"You really gotta get yer gaydar fixed," she said, finally with a smile. "First my brother, and now the stallion who's been knockin' my boots?"

"And what a lucky stallion he is!" Pokey brushed a hoof across her cheek, which quickly flushed with colour. "You know, Applejack, of all the mares I know..."

Oh. Shit. She pressed her back legs together. She'd always found him to be... delectable, to say the least, and now that her body was surging with hormones...

"You're the only one...

Applejack swallowed heavily, and tried as hard as she could not to flinch when she felt a trickle going down her thigh. Back before the pregnancy, she had had to avoid him when she was in heat, because just the sight of those firm muscles could make her knees turn to jelly; but this sudden, stabbing libido was worse than any heat she'd had. At least estrus was predictable!

"I'd like to..."

Her clit winked out. Is he flirting with me?!

"...experiment with."

Holy shit! "R-really?" she stammered.

He took a lock of her hair and wound it around his hooftip. "If I say yes, will you give me a discount?"

"DAMMIT, Pokey!" She punched him in the shoulder. "Don't tease me like that!"

He laughed, gathering his purchases up with his magic. "You're so cute when you're flustered, honey."

"Don't call me honey," she grumbled as she tucked her tail over her backside. One stiff breeze, and her scent would be in the air. Pokey might not respond to it, but every other stallion would. It was bad enough some of them now considered her easy---she didn't need to add any fuel to the fire.

Why is my body doin' this? she thought miserably, recalling how easily the lust had overtaken her when Flim had first walked into her bedroom. Then she allowed herself a small smile. Oh well... at least now I have somepony back home who can stratch this itch.

Her neck snapped straight as if she'd sat on a tack. 'Somepony back home'? No. No, I didn't jes' think of him that way! ...Did I?!

Pokey had noticed the change in her demeanor. "What's the matter?"

"You have yerself a nice day," she mumbled. He opened his mouth to say something else, but thought better of it, and turned to leave with a little nod of his head.

I can't believe it. I'm already startin' to think of Flim as my husband, she thought as she watched the gentle sway of Pokey's retreating backside. The flexing of muscles under his pelt was almost hypnotic, and again she squeezed her hindlegs together. Dammit all! I hope Big Mac hasn't tired Flim out, 'cause I'm-a jump his damn bones when I get through here.

She sighed and rested her head against the stand in front of her, not even raising it when she heard the clopping of somepony's approaching hooves. She needed a moment; they could wait.

She'd fully expected an impatient huff, but not the lilting contralto that followed: "Dear Applejack, if I may be frank---were you checking out somepony's flank?"

Her head shot up. "I---what?!"

But the zebra's head was turned, her almond eyes giving Pokey an appreciative once-over. "I must admit, he is quite fine." Then she looked back at her friend with a wink. "Too bad he swings on the other vine."

"Don't make fun a'me, Zecora," she muttered. "I'm havin' a day from Tartarus, an' it ain't even noon yet."

"I should have taken your scowl as a warning. Are you still getting sick in the morning?"

"No, no, it's..." She looked down at the wood grain on the counter top. It's what? 'Gee, Zecora, I see you once every few months, I still think you're kind of weird, and I don't even know where you were born, but, hey, care to sit down in the middle of a marketplace and let somepony you barely know spill her guts out?' "It's... jes' a bad day is all."

She began to unwrap the large package she had been carrying on her back. "This may give your spirits a lift. I've brought the two of you a little gift."

"A gift?"

Underneath the embroidered scarf was a wicker basket, which she nudged over to Applejack. "I would have sooner brought my boon, but it's bad luck to give this too soon."

Gingerly, she rummaged through the basket, not sure what to expect. Zecora had packed it with a hoof-stitched baby blanket; under that were several ripe fruits, including a pomegranite, which she assumed were supposed to be symbolic of pregnancy, as well as a jar of honey and a small potted aloe plant.

"Aloe is bitter, and honey is sweet," she explained. "Put them both on its tongue when it's done with your teat. Though it may not find the tastes to be proper, they will show your foal what life has to offer."

"I..." A surge of hormones clasped her throat up in a tight pinch, and she could already feel tears stinging her eyes. "Zecora, I... I can't accept this!"

"Why not?"

"It's... it's too kind!" Dammit, not now! Applejack quickly tried to wipe away her tears, but it was in vain. They were already streaking down her face, and she felt a gentle hoof come to rest on her shoulder. "You... I can't remember the last nice thing I did fer you, an'... t'think a'the way we met...!"

"Shh." Her bracelets clanked together as she stroked Applejack's mane. "Please, do not place any blame. To deny my gift would cause me shame."

"O-okay," she said, sniffing. She carefully put the objects back in the basket, and covered them with the blanket. "It's really thoughful a'you."

Zecora's eyes lit up as she remembered something. "Oh! I have something else, as well.... although it may be too early to tell."

"Too early to tell what?"

She watched with curiosity as Zecora pulled a long, beaded string out of her saddlebag, placed it on the counter, and then began fiddling with her earring.

"What're y'doin'?"

Instead of answering, she tugged the ring loose and re-fastened it on the string; then she picked up both ends and held them together, the gold loop hanging like a pendant. Leaning over the stall, she gently pushed Applejack back into a sitting position and dangled her jewellery over her belly.

They both stared at it for a moment. Applejack reached out to touch it, but her hoof was swatted away. "Uh, what's that s'posed---"

"Ah!"

As if seized by some magic force, the ring suddenly began swinging in a huge circle, and Applejack's foal did a somersault.

"And now, its role is known!" Zecora declared, smiling. "Would you like to know the sex of your own?"

She stared at the pendulum, which was slowing its swing. "You know?!"

Zecora chuckled as she replaced her earring. "It's a trick that comes from way, way back. But the choice is yours, Applejack."

Biting her lip, she gave her belly a quick glance; when she met the zebra's eyes again, she nodded. With a wide smile, Zecora leaned over the stall, brushed her cheek against Applejack's, and whispered in her ear.

When she leaned back, Applejack was shaking. "A-are you sure?"

"Some say it's simply old zebra lore," she said, "But I have never been wrong before."

"Oh...!" She clapped her front hooves together like a filly on her birthday. "I can start thinkin' a'names now! I can't wait t'get back home an' tell everypony---!"

Should I tell Flim?

"You have got to be kidding me."

Flim surveyed the pigpen, watching the squealing beasts rolling around in the muck. "You actually want me to get in there?"

"Eeyup." He dropped the slop bucket next to the unicorn. "Gather up all the bruised an' rotten apples, then fill the through. After their breakfast, you can get to washin' 'em up."

"Wash them up? Were you dropped on your head as a foal?" A sow went splashing by him, and he jumped back before the mud could hit him. "They're pigs! They're just going to get dirty again!"

"I don't tell you how to do yer job. Don't tell me how to do mine."

Flim jerked at his vest. "Do you know how hard this is to clean?"

"So take it off."

"Argh! Fine. But if I get trampled, you're taking me to the hospital." Flim unbottoned his vest and shirt and hung them on a low-hanging branch. Just as he began to levitate the bucket, a firm swat landed on his horn, cutting off the magic with a crackle. "OW!"

"Nope," Big MacIntosh snapped.

"What do you mean, 'nope'?" he said as he rubbed his horn.

"No magic," he said evenly. "So long's yer here, yer workin' like an Earth pony."

"Why not?! Look at me!" He sat back on his haunches, gesturing down at his skinny body. "Do you really think I can pull my weight around here without it?"

"No magic," he repeated.

Flim opened his mouth, then closed it as his eyes flicked to the side. When they met his captor's again, they were narrowed. "Wait a minute. I know what this is about."

Big MacIntosh just raised an eyebrow.

Poking a hooftip under the yoke, Flim went on: "You're trying to tire me out so I don't have the energy to go visit Applejack again tonight."

To his surprise, Mac actually cracked a smile. "I hadn't thought a'that. But now that y'mention it... it ain't a bad idea."

"Dammit!"

He simply said again: "No magic. An' I'm holdin' you to that. When y'work on this farm, yer workin' like us."

Flim bucked the tree in frustration. "Oh, come off it! You had two unicorns helping you when you cheated!"

"That was different," he said thinly, and took a step closer, making Flim back up into the tree behind him.

"Yes, it was different. Because you cheated."

"You agreed to it!"

"It. Was. Still. Cheating!"

"Get t'work before I get mad," he gritted out. "And if you say 'cheated' one more time---"

Flim cut him off, waving a hoof dismissively. "What? What'll you do? You know as well as I do that you can't punch me."

That made a little flicker go over his face, but Big MacIntosh recovered easily. "I ain't gonna hit you."

"Didn't think so," he smirked.

He was surprised to see his cocky expression returned. "But... I might tell AJ about yer li'l feathered friend."

Mac's smile grew as wide as Flim's eyes.

"I... I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh yeah? You forget who I saw you sharin' a room with, huh?"

"He needed a place to stay," Flim said as smoothly as he could. "I let him crash in my room. Nothing more."

"Oh, bullshit! I saw that bed!"

The unicorn's mouth opened, but he didn't have a better comback than "Er-r-r..."

Although he normally wasn't one to egg somepony on, the blush that was darkening Flim's face encouraged Mac to push it a little further: "An' I saw how you were limpin', you little pillow-biter. Ain'tcha even stallion enough to be on top, huh?"

Flim's ears began flicking around in circles, and he blew his breath out his nostrils. "So what?!"

"If I know my sister," he said smugly, "She ain't gonna take well t'knowin' you play fer both teams."

"You're a fine one to talk about playing on teams! How long have you been on the bench, hm?"

The blow landed on the tree trunk a half-inch from his face.

"Oh, that hit a nerve, did it?" Flim said, eyeing the huge hoof. Even though he'd flinched when the bark next to his cheek had broken into splinters, he was regaining a bit of his confidence. "Don't you ever think things through? If Applejack finds out, she'll never agree to marry me."

"She ain't got much of a choice." Big MacIntosh prodded his barrel. "An' neither do you."

Flim swatted his hoof away. "Oh yeah? All I have to do is bring up one of my past coltfriends, and she'll think I'm gay. That would be enough to throw a monkey wrench in your nefarious little plans."

"And enough to make her cut off the sex," he said sharply.

That gave him pause. He hated to admit it, but that was a good point.

"That's the only reason yer stickin' around, ain't it?" Big MacIntosh continued. "Don't try an' kid me. Yer jes' usin' her, an' we both know it."

"It never occured to you that I might actually like her?"

He snorted. "You like one part of her."

"No, I like her whole body. And I'll enjoy her body as often as I ca---"

He knew that was a mistake even before the words left his mouth. Flim let out a weak gasp when a hoof slammed up against his throat, pinning him to the tree.

"Now you listen t'me," he hissed. "Fer the rest a'the time yer here, yer gonna do what I say. Got it? An' if you try an' pull any shit with me, Applejack's gonna learn exactly what you are. You'll be stuck married to a mare who won't even touch ya. How'dya like that?!"

Flim slumped down when the pressure on his neck released, and glared up at the larger stallion, coughing. "Well, asshole, if you out me to Applejack, I'll..."

"You'll what?"

"...I'll do something that'll make you extremely uncomfortable," he finished.

Mac clenched his jaw. "Yer already screwin' my baby sister!" he screamed, his hot breath shooting out over Flim's face. "How much more 'uncomfortable' can y'make me?!"

"Try this on for size."

The last time he'd heard that, a drunk stallion had taken a swing at him. Big MacIntosh was fully expecting a punch. A punch he could've handled, especially coming from a weakling like Flim.

What he absolutely couldn't handle, though, was a kiss.

He gasped, and instantly regretted it, because that let a tongue into his mouth. He was too startled to even bite down. His eyes just stayed slightly unfocused as he felt his lower lip get sucked forward. Flim's mouth still tasted sweet like the pancakes from breakfast, and his tongue felt light and ticklish as it danced along the roof of his mouth.

I'm... kissing a stallion...? he thought in some dim corner of his brain. Is this really happening, or...?

A hoof gently pressed against his shoulder, moving down to his barrel. It began tracing slow circles.

What the FUCK?!

"Mmm... not bad," Flim said as he pulled away. Seeing as Mac was still in shock, he leaned forward and whispered in his ear: "You know, if I didn't absolutely hate your guts, I'd probably find you pretty attractive."

He just made a quiet choking noise.

"You're not really my type, but I do make the occasional exception for stallions as stacked as you are," he murmured as he walked away, swishing his tail up against Mac's cutie mark. "And, for your information, I'm not a bottom. I like to... heh.... switch things up."

Flim flashed him a huge grin, and as if that wasn't enough, he tacked on "So if you ever feel like lifting your tail, well, you know where to find me."

Instinctively, his tail flicked down over his ass. Big MacIntosh listened to the retreating hoofsteps---and the smarmy humming---and slowly blinked.

He had just kissed another stallion. He had just kissed another stallion.

"What..." he breathed, "The... fuck... just... HAPPENED?!"

"And me without my camera."

"GYAH!"

He whirled around to see Cheerilee grinning up at him.

"Hey!" He frantically pointed at Flim, who was now just a point on the horizon. "He kissed me! I h-had n-n-n-nothing to do with it!!"

She just giggled. "Relax, Mac. I saw the whole thing."

His shoulders slumped in relief. "Oh, Cheery... You wouldn't believe the day I've had."

"That makes two of us." She sat down in the shade of the tree and carefully flicked her tail back and forth over the patch of soft moss next to her. "Can we talk?"

Author's Notes:

Whew! Longest. Chapter. EVER. But I had a lot I wanted to cram into this one.

Guys, I actually did research for this part. Zecora's gift, as well as the part about making a baby taste aloe and honey, are actually African traditions. If you're particularly clever, you may have guessed the baby's sex from her clue---and I also dropped a hint about Mac's past in here, too.

Oh, yeah! I also wanted to FINALLY have a scene where a stand-off between Mac and Flim ends up with Flim having the upper hoof. :D