The breakfast table seemed jovial enough when they walked in; Apple Bloom was merrily recounting a weird dream she'd had last night, and Granny was obviously indulging her. Even Big MacIntosh, who looked more than a little grumpy, was smiling a bit, which gave Applejack enough courage to step in the room and clear her throat.

As soon as her brother laid eyes on Flim, however, the stormclouds on his face turned to thunder.

"Nope!" he said, rising in his seat. His eyes were blazing. "No, you don't get t'sit at this table!"

Applejack stamped her back hoof. "C'mon, Big MacIntosh! He hasta eat!"

He slammed a hoof next to his plate, making it and its contents jump. "Not at the family table!"

Flim snatched up his plate and began piling pancakes onto it with his magic. "Fine by me! I'll go eat in the kitchen with the dog! I'm sure she's better company than you, anyway!"

"Good!"

"Can I use the butterknife, or is everything on the 'family table' off-limits, too?"

"Get outta here!" he roared loud enough to make Granny wince.

"Gone," he sniffed. Then he glanced over his shoulder and said "By the way, why don't you just hang a big sign that says 'Earth ponies only' above the door? I'm sure that would be a lot less---"

A screech cut him off as sharp and ear-piercing as a claw down a blackboard. "KNOCK IT OFF!"

They all froze---even Flim---and from somewhere in the kitchen, Winona whimpered a little. Granny almost never had to raise her voice, and the fire in her eyes was something new altogether.

"I have jes' about had it!" she shouted, pounding a hoof against her chest. "My ol' ticker can't take much more a'this!"

"Granny---"

That was a mistake; she immediately turned to him and shoved him back a few steps. "MacIntosh Apple! This whole marriage business is yer doin'! Now, I'm real sorry y'ain't pleased about this, but y'gotta learn that when y'make yer bed, y'gotta lie in it!"

Flim laughed. "I don't think that's the best expression you could have used, all things considered---"

"You shut yer mouth!"

His plate clattered to the floor when she turned to him. "Now, yer a guest here, so I gotta be as polite t'you as I can, but if I hear one more smarmy, smug, self-satistfied word outta yer mouth, so help me Celestia, I'm-a break yer damn jaw!"

Applejack's breath hitched halfway out of her lungs. In her entire life, she had never, ever heard her grandmother say a cuss. Nothing stronger than a 'consarnit'. And now Granny was shaking her hoof an inch from Flim's face, grinding her false teeth together in a terrifying snarl.

"Y-yes, ma'am," he stammered, grabbing at his chair.

"Now," she finished as she plunked herself back into her seat, "Both a'yes'---SIDDOWN!"

The silence was only broken by Granny's quiet panting, but after a second or two, Flim bent down, scooped up his plate, and levitated it back to the table. Big MacIntosh had gone a little pale, but he took his seat as well.

Applejack had just managed to slip into her chair before Granny began saying grace, but instead of closing her eyes, she stared over at Flim. He shrugged, but he looked a bit shell-shocked.

"A-amen," she mumbled.

Big MacIntosh took a huge mouthful, frowned, and swallowed as if it were quite a struggle. Applejack bit her lip while she watched him pour more syrup on his stack; nothing had tasted off to her. She quickly shook away her first suspicion: Flim couldn't possibly have gotten near his drink this time---he'd been with her since they got up. "What's the matter?"

He swished his coffee around his mouth a few times before gulping it down. "Nothin'. I jes' got a... weird metallic taste in my mouth."

Flim nodded, absentmindedly taking a bite. "Mm, yes. That's a side effect."

SHIT! Her heartbeat kicked up a few notches. Why didja say that, ya dumbass?!

Big MacIntosh put his fork down and narrowed his eyes. "....Of what?!"

Applejack's sour belly nearly jumped into her throat. Oh please oh please, Flim, don't say it! Don't tell him what you did!

"Of.... stress," he mumbled into his mouthful. After chewing a bit more, Flim added "Sometimes extreme stress can, uh, can... build up bile in the stomach. That can, er, lead to a vile taste in the mouth." He looked across the table at her, and she nodded a little. Although she couldn't forgive the lie, she had to admit she was a little impressed by how quickly he'd recovered.

Apple Bloom looked around from one frown to another. "Why's everypony so mad?" Tapping her hoof on Flim's shoulder, she asked "Is it 'cause you an' Applejack got in a fight?"

He glanced across the table before answering. "What makes you think we got in a fight?"

She shrugged. "You two sure were doin' a lotta yellin' last night."

If there was something Apple Bloom would never understand about grown-ups, it was why they'd sometimes have a normal conversation with her, and why other times they'd just shrink down in their seats as if mortified beyond belief.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Big MacIntosh groaned.

"We.... did argue a bit," a red-faced Flim managed, "But we've made up."

Applejack snorted. "No we didn't! I'm still mad at you."

"For what?!"

"Fer what you said out there on the riverbank!" she said, her throat tightening as her voice crept higher. "You called me stupid!"

"I did not call you stupid. I said you did something stupid. There's a difference!"

"Not much, if y'ask me!"

"Well, I didn't, did I?"

"Stop YELLING!"

Normally an outburst like that at the table would've gotten her some sort of reprimand, but this time the adults just stared at Apple Bloom in shock.

"As far's I'm concerned, all three a'yes' are bein' stupid!" she shouted. Turning to Flim, she said "Granny Smith told you t'be nice, an' it's not very nice t'yell at a mare! I know you didn't have the kinda upbringin' we did, but you should at least know t'respect what yer elder ponies say!"

Applejack cleared her throat. "Now, sis---"

"Applejack! Yer bein' mean t'him, too! Doesn't that make you jes' as bad as him?"

She gasped, but her sister wasn't done yet. Now she was pointing at Big MacIntosh. "And YOU! You been grouchy fer months an' months now, an' I'm plum fed up with it! If it weren't fer you, we wouldn't be in this mess!"

"Me?"

"Yes, you!"

"ME?" He shoved his chair back, his brow digging dangerously into a knot. "This is my fault?!"

"Yer the one who dragged him here!"

"I'M THE ONE TRYINA MAKE THINGS RIGHT!" he hollered. Flim flinched a little, but Apple Bloom didn't even blink. "Yer sister's the one who---"

"Who what?!" Applejack snapped. "G'wan! Say it, I dare ya!"

Granny huffed and started to wave her hooves in the air. "Now, knock it off, all a'yes'!"

Apple Bloom gave a surprisingly hard tug on Flim's elbow. "Do you love her?"

He yanked his foreleg out of her grip. "What?!"

"I said," she repeated with a swoop of her hoof in Applejack's direction. "Do. You. Love. Her?"

In the dead silence that followed, Flim could feel every set of eyes land on him. His burning ears twitched back and forth a few times, and he cleared his throat. "Um. Well. I... I'll admit I have a soft spot for her..."

That made Applejack sit up a little straighter. A 'soft spot'? What the...?

"But, no, I don't love her," he finished, and reluctantly looked back at the rest of the Apple family. "I hardly know her!"

"Then ya shouldn't get married!" Apple Bloom said in exasperation. "Why's that so hard t'understand?"

Big MacIntosh smashed his hooves down on the sides of his chair. "Apple Bloom, she's pregnant! That's why she hasta get hitched!"

Leaning over her plate, the little filly jutted her chin at him and said "But y'can't force two ponies who don't love each other t'be together! You of all ponies should know that!" Then she stuck her tongue out. "Or d'you want me to go make another love potion, huh?"

"GO TO YOUR ROOM! NOW!"

Flim's eyes followed her as she slunk away from the table; he couldn't help but notice that the foreleg Big MacIntosh was holding out toward the staircase was shaking a little.

"Well," he said with a sip of his coffee, "You know the day's off to a good start when you get told off by a six-year-old."

"I'm eight and two-thirds!" she yelled back.

"If you're still measuring your age with fractions, that means you're too young to be talking about this kind of thing!" he retorted.

Apple Bloom let out a yelp of anger and bucked her little hooves against the banister. "Don't tell me what to do!" she screamed. "Yer not my father!"

They all watched her storm up the stairs, and once the door slammed, they returned to poking the food around their plates.

"That... could have gone better," Flim admitted.

"Eat up, Applejack," Granny finally said. "Y'need all the energy y'can get."

"I know, I know," she pouted, but took another forkful anyway.

"Apple Bloom packed a snack fer you t'bring t'market, too. It's in the kitchen."

"You're going to the market?" Flim asked, glancing between the two mares. "To buy or to sell?"

"To sell," Applejack replied. She didn't understand the look on his face---it was part-confusion, but what other expression could be there, she couldn't quite tell.

"How are you going to get all your wares there?"

Was that a trick question? "With a cart. How else?"

"Well I certainly hope he's going to pull it," he said with a flick of his head toward Big MacIntosh.

"Don't talk about him like he's not here, and, no, he's got other work that needs doin'." She elbowed him hard in the ribs. "Like fixin' my door, fer starters."

Irritation was starting to take over. "He can't take ten bloody minutes out of his day to help you?"

"It takes twenty minutes to walk into town, and twenty back. Then he'd have to pick me up again after the market closed. He can't afford to take more'n an hour outta his work day, 'specially not now the days are gettin' shorter!" Before Flim could respond, she added "An' I don't need the help! I been takin' the cart t'market even before you knocked me up, an' it ain't hurt me yet."

"What if it hurts the baby?"

"You don't know nothin' about nothin'! The harness goes around my shoulders, not my belly. It ain't even touchin' the... the baby," she said. Her voice had gone a little quieter than when she'd started speaking.

"I don't care. I'll pull the damn cart." He knew that would make them all gawk at him, so he pretended he didn't notice, looking down at his food instead. "It's not like I have anything better to do today, anyway."

Big MacIntosh let out a sour bark of laughter. "Don't be so sure about that. I'm puttin' you to work."

"You... you don't haveta do that," Applejack said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Pull the cart, I mean."

Flim drew his hooftip in a crescent-shaped gesture over his abdomen, and it didn't take a genius to figure out what he was referring to. "Of course I do. You're carrying enough as it is."

"Oh, please! D'you think I'm some... some..." She could feel her lip curling up in a sneer. "Some delicate lil' flower y'need to protect or somethin'?"

Flim just scoffed. "'Delicate' is the last word I'd choose to describe you."

"Well, you sure ain't gonna convince me yer some knight in shining armour, if that's what yer thinkin'!"

"Oh, pfft. Hardly. I'm barely a squire in a tarnished helmet."

"Took the words right outta my mouth," Big MacIntosh muttered.

"Then what makes you think I need yer help?!"

"Hey!" he shouted, banging the middle of the table hard enough to make the sugar bowl jump. "It's my kid, too!"

As soon as he'd said it, his hoof flew up to his mouth. Judging from the look on his face, that had surprised him even more than the rest of them put together. From somewhere upstairs, Applejack could swear she heard her sister's door opening a little.

Granny coughed a little, eyeing Flim as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his mane. "Applejack, he's tryna be nice fer a change. Y'oughta enjoy this while it lasts."

She opened her mouth to say something---possibly even an agreement---but then a nasty thought crossed her mind. "...Wait a minute," she said. "How do I know y'aint gonna run the second my back is turned?"

"You'll have to trust me."

"Trust you? Trust you?!" she said, her voice rising. "I trust Discord more'n I trust you!"

"Oh, Applejack," he said with a little smirk. "After last night, you still don't trust me?"

"Why would I trust you? What didja do last night that was so different?"

Big MacIntosh's teeth began to grind. "Stooooop...."

He actually looked a little hurt. "I... I let you cry on my shoulder, sweetheart."

Applejack's ears immediately squashed down against her head, but she didn't miss Granny's little "Oh!" of surprise.

"Don't you dare," she hissed.

"What?"

"Don't call me that in front'a my family!" She couldn't believe how mortified she was. "Th-that's private! I can't believe y---That jes' proves y'ain't got a trustworthy bone in yer whole damn body!"

Flim threw his fork down, looking angrier than she'd ever seen him, and leaned halfway across the table, his muzzle just a few inches from hers. "Oh, yes, please, Applejack, lecture me about trustworthiness! I was the one who woke up tied to your bed, remember?!"

It took him a few heart-pounding seconds to realize why Applejack was staring back at him in utter horror. Slowly, he turned to his left, peering at the other ponies present, both of whom looked as if they'd just accidentally taken a bite of a cow patty.

"And... by that... I mean...."

"Don't even bother tryin'a talk yer way outta that," she groused as she slunk down as far as she could go. If she hadn't been forbidden from wearing her hat at the table, she would have pulled it all the way over her face. "Now everypony knows. Good job."

Flim gradually let himself slip back into his chair, his teeth on edge. That little spark of anger had scared him more than what he'd just blurted out---and even more than the look of rage growing on his future brother-in-law's face.

"Well. So Applejack likes the ropes," Granny said with a surprising nonchalance. "Stands t'reason one a'yes would take after yer grandaddy."

Big MacIntosh stood up so fast his chair went skidding across the floor. "NOPE!" he screamed as he went stamping out of the dining room, yanking his head from side to side and chanting like a mantra "Nope nope nope nope nope nope NOPE....!"

Granny watched him go, turned back to her breakfast, and chortled a little at the matching looks of disgust. "Heh! I knew that would work."

"To do what?!"

"T'make yer brother go blow off some steam," she answered as she finished her coffee. "I knew if he hadta spend one more minute listenin' to you two bicker, he'd blow a gasket." After a long silence, she added "No need t'go thankin' me all at once, now."

"So..." Flim said, conscious that he was treading on thin ice, "You... were just kidding about the whole bondage thing, right?"

"Mind yer own damn business," she answered primly.

He winced. "Well, I don't know about you, Applejack, but I've just about lost my appetite. To market, then?"

"I.... I still don't trust you," she mumbled.

"Fine. Fine! I have an idea," Flim said. He was heading towards the stairs.

Applejack grabbed at his shoulder as her passed her. "Wait! What kind of idea?"

"You won't take my word," he said, "So I'll have to give you something else."

When he came back downstairs, he was dressed, save his hat. Before Applejack could ask why he'd put his clothes on, Flim magicked something out of his breast pocket and plopped it down beside her plate.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Collateral."

Applejack picked it up in her hooves; it looked like a plastic photo-sleeve with a picture slid in the front. The photograph was of Flim and Flam, both of whom looked to be about about Apple Bloom's age, making predictable but somehow slightly endearing goofy faces at the camera. Flim had a foreleg around Flam's shoulders, and he was making a crude gesture---that he probably shouldn't have known at that age---over his ear. Standing between them was a stern-looking unicorn, a mare with a young face and very old, sad eyes.

"What the... who's that?"

Flim reached around her and turned the sleeve over. "Sorry. Wrong side."

Now she was looking at a much older photograph. It was well-creased with age, and the colours had faded a bit, but the pony looking back up at her still seemed full of life. She had thick curls hanging down around her shoulders, and her eyes were the same pistachio-green as Flim's. For some reason, Applejack felt goosebumps crawl up her neck.

"That's the only photo I have of my mother," he said quietly, tracing the tip of his hoof up Applejack's arm. "Take it."

"But..."

"I won't leave town without it," he added. When she looked up at him in surprise, he disregarded his better judgement and leaned down to nuzzle her. "I mean it. It's... this is important to me."

After a few moments of silence, Applejack picked her hat off the back of her chair and carefully tucked the photo-sleeve into the inner brim. "Really?"

He pecked her on her temple. "Really."

A little chuckle made them both glance up just in time to see Granny try to hide her smile behind her napkin.

"Well, uh... we better be gettin' ready," Applejack said, feeling a little flushed as she rose unsteadily. "Market opens in half an hour."

"First things first. You come with me," Granny said with a little beckoning gesture in Flim's direction. "There's somethin' I need ya t'get outta the attic."

"What d'you need from up there?" she asked, already on her way out.

"You'll see! Come back in after y'get the cart ready."

She opened her mouth to protest, but her grandmother had already taken his arm, leading him towards the staircase. Applejack sighed. Whatever Granny felt was so important wouldn't take that long to retrieve, considering they'd de-cluttered the attic a few months ago (that trip to Goldie's had put a bee in her bonnet about keeping up with housecleaning). She may as well just pack her wares.

She had one hoof out the front door when she heard something screech behind her; it sounded like somepony had scraped a chair across the floor. She poked her head back in the empty dining room, and saw that her brother's chair had been pushed back against the table, but oddly enough, it was facing the wrong way.

"What a dolt," she said to herself as she turned it so the seat was tucked under the table. "Can't even put a chair back right."

Her back was turned, however, when the chair slid back a few inches.

Author's Notes:

I'd like to think that if you make it to old age, you've earned your right to be a bit of a troll. Go Granny. :D