Applejack plopped down into his chair and groaned. “Damn,” he said. “It feels good to sit down after workin’ all day.”

“Oh, really?” Dusk said. He placed his hands on the back of his own chair. The two of them were out on the back porch of the Castle of Friendship, looking out over the outskirts of town. Off in the distance, the sun was starting to set, casting shadows across the yard and their faces.

Something hovered toward the side of Applejack’s face, shimmering with a bright purple light. “Beer?” Dusk offered, his horn glowing. Applejack took the amber bottle gratefully.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he said. Cracking it open, he leaned back in his chair, put one hand behind his head, and take a long swig.

He gulped it down and groaned happily. “That’s the stuff.”

“You said it.” Dusk popped his own open and took a sip. Pulling his own chair a few inches toward the edge of the porch, he brushed it off with the back of his hand and sat down.

Applejack nursed his bottle against his forehead for a moment, savoring the feel of the cold glass against his skin. “I thought today would never end. ‘Least I was wrong ‘bout that.”

“Oh, yeah.” Dusk lifted his bottle; Applejack met it with a clink. “I’ll drink to that.”

They did. Applejack exhaled slowly as he rested his bottle in his lap.

“I’m sore all over,” he said. “We got a whole grove of trees that went dead with rootrot. Nasty stuff,” he added, shivering. “Took us hours to clean ‘em out, so’s they wouldn’t affect the others. I swear I almost broke my back over one of ‘em.”

“Sucks,” Dusk said sympathetically. “But you think you’ve got it bad, huh? I’ve been running non-stop errands for Prince Solaris for the past week.”

“That don’t sound so bad. Just friendship stuff, right?”

“Some,” Dusk said, taking another drink. “Along with diplomatic meetings, official events, and more paperwork than I’ll ever want to see again in my life.” He sighed. “I haven’t been getting much sleep, honestly. I was up late last night studying a book on Gyphonian cultural rites—I didn’t want to get anything wrong for the embassy’s arrival on Sunday. Barb actually found me drooling on the page in my study the next morning.”

Applejack gave him a sideways glance. Truth be told, Dusk did look kind of tuckered out. There were bags under his eyes, and whenever he lifted his bottle for a drink, there was a kind of lag—a twitch in his elbow where things weren’t quite syncing up.

Once he’d taken another drink of his own beer, Applejack tapped his fingers thoughtfully on his lap and said, “You ever think you might be overworking yourself? Sounds like you’re runnin’ yourself ragged.”

“Maybe,” Dusk said doubtfully. “But it’s what Prince Solaris needs. I can’t let him down.”

“I s’pose,” Applejack said.

A pause. Then Dusk went on, saying, “Anything less than my best is...well, it makes life hard on him. He’s got enough on his plate. If I can help out, then I need to.”

“I’m sure he thinks the world of you for it,” Applejack said. “But still—sounds like you’re using every waking hour on him. And some sleeping ones too. Ain’t you got any time for yourself? No personal time?”

“Well...no,” Dusk said reluctantly. “I’m pretty busy, I guess.”

Applejack grunted. “A stallion’s always gotta have time to relax. Time to enjoy yourself.”

“Wouldn’t I love that,” Dusk said, smirking. “Seems like there isn’t much opportunity, though.”

A thought came to Applejack’s mind—and he nearly burst out laughing. Now there was an idea.

And it’d be a heck of a lot of fun to put together, too. And if it could help Dusk out, take his mind off things—then where could it go wrong?

“Y’know,” he said, casually. “You sound like you could use a pretty little cheerleader.”

Dusk nearly spit out his drink. “A cheerleader?” he said, halfway between sputtering and chuckling. “Now where’d that come from?”

“Y’know,” Applejack said, smirking. “All prettied up, nice and soft—good for takin’ an edge off things.”

“Well,” Dusk said, laughing quietly. “Don’t we all.”

“Now, what kinda cheerleader?” Applejack said thoughtfully. “Gotta be a hot young thing.”

“Mm,” Dusk said. He’d raised an eyebrow, but looked slightly amused nonetheless. “Slender.”

“Feminine? Yeah; of course.” Applejack chuckled. “Gotta be able to slip your hands ‘round that sexy thing—just slip ‘em right around the waist. Hold ‘em real tight.”

“That sounds great right now,” Dusk replied, chuckling and shaking his head. “I don’t think any stallion could turn that kind of offer down.” He blushed slightly. “I hope I don’t sound like some kind of basement shut-in—but I’d love to just have somepony like that, just to hold close to me at night.”

“Not at all,” Applejack said. “Like you said—don’t we all?” He hummed thoughtfully. “They’d need some sexy clothes, of course.”

“Lingerie?”

“Could work. Get those tight, see-through leggings. Gotta get yourself a real pretty thing, all dressed up in tight, form-fitting clothes and the girliest skirt you could imagine.” Applejack chuckled. “‘Course, you lift up the skirt, and—bam! An ass so nice you could bounce a nickel off it.”

“Mmff,” Dusk said. He shot Applejack a grin. “Don’t make me pop a boner, though—Barb could walk out any minute.”

Applejack laughed. “I’m serious, though.”

“What?”

“Let’s just pretend that I know a pretty little cheerleader myself.” It was Applejack’s turn to grin. “One who’d be more than happy to lend you a hand.”

“Um.” Now Dusk sounded wary. “You know I’m not looking for any kind of...well, paid sex, right?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Applejack waved a hand dismissively. “It ain’t like that.”

“Just trust me, Dusk,” he went on, smirking. “Don’t think of it as a hookup. Think of it as me hooking you up.”

“Now that’s just semantics,” Dusk grumbled. His expression softened, though. “Still… I can’t deny that it sounds... nice.”

“Good.” Applejack took a swig of his beer, finishing it off. Sighing, he thumped a fist on his chest and raised his empty bottle to the setting sun. “Ah. Now that’s some good stuff. I’d better be getting back to the farm.”

“Hey,” Dusk said, running a hand through his hair. “Thanks for stopping by.”

“Thanks for the beer.” Applejack stood up with a grunt and grinned. “You have a g’night, Dusk.”

“You too, AJ.”

Applejack made to turn away, and paused. “Oh, and Dusk?” he added, casually. “I still think you need to find some way to relax. One way or another.”

Dusk chuckled. “Sure,” he said. “Sure, AJ.”

Applejack nodded, then tilted his Stetson in goodbye. “One way or another,” he muttered, winking—and turned to go.

Dusk Shine was not happy.

Well, in an inner, subconscious way, he was sort of happy. He’d just finished one of the most productive days of the past week—he’d been the very epitome of a proper prince. He’d been polite. He’d been efficient. He’d completed every task assigned or available to him and then some.

On the inside, he was proud of himself. Dusk Shine had never been the kind of pony to do anything less than his best. When he’d stepped up to royalty—royalty!—he’d taken it for granted that he’d have to step up his work efforts too. Ponies were relying on him after all, and if he helped them, led them, guided them, then he knew that he was doing right.

That was on the inside. On the outside, Prince Dusk Shine was tired as fuck.

He let the front door to the Palace of Friendship slam shut behind him. What kind of dumb name is that? he grumped, his mind awash in a sea of tiredness and general frustration. It was a great name, he’d always thought. He just didn’t think so now.

Barb was away for the weekend, so there was nobody around to welcome him home. He kind of liked that, in a way—meant that there was nobody around to bother him, to prod him into doing something like he’d been prodded all day. But all the same...the palace was big. Empty—really empty—without anypony else there. He liked the solitude, but he wasn’t yet sure if he liked the loneliness.

Grunting, and shoving that uneasy thought off into the back of his mind, Dusk lumbered up the stairs to his room. He could make dinner, but he was too tired, too uninterested, and not really hungry besides. He’d rather get upstairs, lock the door and pretend to be back in the Library. Maybe he’d have his feet up on the bed, reading a book or taking a nap or writing something that wasn’t for official use—

Sighing slightly, he rounded the corner at the end of the hallway—why hadn’t he gotten a closer room, anyway?—and smiled a little when he saw the door to his room. Unlike the other doors, which were nothing but naked slabs of crystal, his was more warmly decorated. Pictures of his friends, of Barb, of Prince Solaris, covered the surface; his Cutie Mark, proud and strong, was emblazoned on the top center of the door.

A tired smile on his face, Dusk twisted the knob, opened the door, and stepped inside.

There was a pegasus on his bed.

She was—well, geeze; pretty was about the only word that could sum it up, but even that didn’t go far enough. Cute, definitely. Slender, with a slim waist and a pair of hips that curved out nicely. Her hair was brushed back and tied off with a bow, and the rest of her was “covered” with a skimpy little cheerleader’s outfit that hid just about nothing. A short skirt covered most of her thighs, but didn’t even come close to her knees; it was probably the girliest thing Dusk had ever seen, all bright and pink and absolutely drowning in frills.

She had on a clean pink top, which settled neatly over her nicely padded chest. Dusk’s eyes—he was a stallion, after all, and one with a respectable libido—moved over her legs, a pair of clean-cut limbs wearing thigh-highs and a pair of feminine boots.

He took all of this in by sheer reflex. Struck nearly dumb with surprise, it took Dusk only another half-second to glance up at the cheerleader’s face, to glance past those bright rosy cheeks, and to look directly into her eyes—

—only to realize that she wasn’t actually a “she” after all.

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