Applejack yawned and lazily cracked open her eyelids, awaking as she always did soon after Celestia began raising the sun. For a moment, her eyes darted back and forth, as she found herself confused at the unusual surroundings. She blinked and tugged at the blankets as her eyes focused.

It hadn’t been a dream. Not this time. When it was a dream, she didn’t wake up in an unfamiliar bed.

She looked down. Mostly covered by the bed’s blankets, Twilight slept peacefully, head lain on her chest in a small puddle of drool and gently rising and falling with each breath. Roused by her shifting, Twilight held her tighter and muttered, “Applejack…”

She lay back again. This wasn’t so bad, she reasoned. Maybe things would be alright.

Her unicorn companion blinked a few times before looking up, smiling. Their eyes met, and they smiled together, bathed in the morning glow.

The moment was short-lived.

Twilight’s eyes snapped wide open and she pulled away. “Applejack!”

“Err… who were you expectin’?”

She blushed furiously. “It… it wasn’t a dream!”

Applejack smirked, stifling a laugh. “You too, huh?”

Sheets and blankets went flying about as Twilight thrashed, struggling to escape her own bed. She fell to the ground with a muffled thud, taking most of the bed coverings with her.

Applejack barely reacted to the commotion, as she was still groggy with morning drowsiness. “Uh… you OK, Twilight?”

“I’m sorry!”

Applejack peered over the edge of the bed. Twilight was twisted up in a cocoon of orange bedsheets, still flailing as the fabric twisted itself more tightly around her. Only one of her hind hooves was visible through the tangled fabric.

“What do you mean, ‘Ah’m sorry’?”

“I thought it was a dream! I never would have… I mean, I didn’t mean to… um–” She stumbled over her words before sputtering, “It’s just, I’ve had this dream so many times, I kind of know how to skip to the good part.”

For a moment, she continued to twist and pull at the sheets, then she stopped cold and squealed faintly. Still leaning over the edge of the bed, Applejack cocked an eyebrow, wearing an incredulous smirk.

“That’s not… exactly what I meant…”

Chuckling, Applejack lay back on the bed. The covers were gone, but it was a warm, early autumn morning, and Twilight’s bed was surprisingly comfortable. After a lifetime of hard mattresses, there was something very pleasant about sinking into another mare’s bed and letting her mind drift.

She shook her head. No, there was something pleasant about sinking into a soft bed. Surely that’s what she’d meant.

Twilight continued to roll about next to the bed, wrestling with the fabric, while Applejack sorted out her thoughts. Everything’s goin’ so fast. … Is this normal? Heck, none of this is normal. It seemed to her like something must be wrong, but perhaps, she mused, that was society pushing its notions of propriety onto her.

She shook her head once more, laughing lightly. “Ah think you’re startin’ to rub off on me, Twi.”

“Huh?”

Her chuckling faded slowly. “Never mind. You OK over there?” She peeked over the edge of the bed curiously.

“Um,” Twilight began, muffled by the bed covers. Reaching over, Applejack started to unwind the coiled orange cloth. Soon, Twilight’s face appeared, glowing with embarrassment. She nodded sheepishly, looking away. “Would you like some breakfast?”

Applejack’s stomach rumbled. “Ah guess we never did eat dinner last night, did we?” she asked with a light blush.

The ball of pony and fabric rose from the ground in a magenta glow and quickly unraveled itself, revealing a tousled, but smiling, unicorn. The escape seemed so simple that Applejack couldn’t help rolling her eyes. Twilight didn’t notice, trotting from the room with a spring in her step. “Spike? Spiiiike!”

Applejack felt her cheeks burn as she realized that Spike had been sleeping no more than a yard from the bed she and Twilight had shared. Lifting herself to her hooves, she tried to let that feeling pass as the little dragon pounced out of the room, taking no note of her.

“I’m awake!” he hollered in response, nearly flying after her. “What’s the big fuss?”

“We have a guest, Spike. Help me make breakfast.”

The pair descended the stairs from Twilight’s loft, leaving Applejack to herself. She began surveying the room; other than the bedsheets torn off the bed, it was up to Twilight’s standards of immaculate order. A single nightstand at the end of the bed held a sparse few items related to personal grooming, and otherwise every shelf held carefully arranged and categorized trinkets and curios that Applejack couldn’t hope to identify.

She found herself smiling at the strange harmony of it; in a way it was not unlike Pinkie Pie’s accommodations, but with Twilight’s organization. Knickknacks from all over Equestria, perhaps all over the world, were filed carefully away on the shelves. Test tubes were hung near the flasks and beakers, while the clocks were organized neatly with the sundials and hourglasses. She’d never seen Twilight play a lyre, but one was sitting next to a flute and an oddly-shaped squeezebox. Knowing Twilight, every object must have been a fascinating example of pony civilization, but they were little more than mysteries to Applejack.

Nonetheless, her methodical search failed to reveal her hat and hairband, so she just tossed her mane back and proceeded down the stairs without.

Whether it was whipped up by unicorn magic or simply by pony and dragon ingenuity, breakfast was ready by the time she reached the bottom of the stairs. Spike beamed, enthusiastically presenting the meal to Applejack. Twilight stared at her for a few seconds, agape, before averting her gaze and focusing intentionally on the food.

Applejack followed Twilight’s gaze to a stack of blueberry pancakes just as their delectable aroma reached her nose. “Wow-ee, Twi, Ah didn’t know you could cook like this!”

“Oh,” she mumbled, “it’s really nothing. Mostly Spike.”

Applejack grinned and dug into the meal ravenously. After the first two bites—or the first two pancakes, she reluctantly admitted to herself—she calmed down, and their previous uneasiness resumed. The two mares ate in silence while Spike babbled cheerfully, apparently oblivious to the anxiety in the air. Applejack only picked up bits of his monologue, as her eyes darted between her food and her… friend? Marefriend? Lover?

“Sweetie Belle and me thought it was a great idea, but Scootaloo said it’d never work, and Apple Bloom was just trying to make us stop fighting over it.” He stuffed another whole pancake in his mouth, his words barely understandable through the food. “Finally, Apple Bloom just–”

“Spike!” Twilight interrupted. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Scowling, Spike chewed noisily while Twilight and Applejack waited, each carefully avoiding the other’s gaze.

“So anyway, Apple Bloom said they couldn’t get a cutie mark that way anyway, and the others sort of lost interest.” He picked up another piece of pancake with his fork, but just stared at the morsel instead. “Blueberries are nice, I guess, but couldn’t you let me make sapphire pancakes just once?”

Twilight grinned. “Maybe on a day when we don’t have a guest. Are you done?”

He dropped the fork. “I guess so.”

“Then go have fun. I’ll handle the dishes.”

His confused expression at the unexpected reward lasted only seconds, quickly replaced by a wide, toothy grin. He bolted from the library without another word, slamming the door behind him.

“Ah’m glad the girls let him play with them. Ah’m sure he’d be lonely as a chilly rattlesnake without ’em.”

Twilight nodded, poking her remaining pancake listlessly.

“Twi?” Applejack spoke softly, with furrowed brows.

She looked up, dropping her fork.

“What’s wrong?”

Her head dropped again. “Applejack… why me?” She bore exactly the same expression as she had during their last encounter in the library: she was distant, depressed, and altogether not Twilight.

“Twilight…”

Applejack hesitated. She hadn’t said it out loud. She’d barely even admitted it to herself. Everything was happening too fast.

What if Rarity was wrong? Why would Rarity be wrong? Was she even taking Rarity’s word, or did Rarity just lead her in the right direction?

Twilight looked up, clearly distressed by the long pause. Looking into her bright, violet eyes, Applejack’s trepidation vanished. She would have been ready to admit it to anypony.

She leaned in and spoke steadfastly, with sincerity. “Twilight, Ah love you.”

There was a lingering silence after that. Twilight stared at her for a seemingly endless moment, as if trying to judge her honesty.

“… Oh.”

Applejack pulled away, unsure how to react.

“I mean, um… that’s… wonderful?”

Applejack reached instinctively for her hat, trying to pull it down by the brim, but when her hoof found only her mane she remembered that it wasn’t there. Feeling naked without it, she slumped lower in her chair.

Twilight hid her face, looking bashful, or perhaps ashamed. “It’s only…”

“What?”

She sighed. “I guess it’s never really fair, is it.”

“What do you mean?”

Twilight gazed out the window. “What about everypony else?”

With a renewed sense of understanding, Applejack paced over carefully and leaned into Twilight. “What about everypony else?”

She nearly fell over as Twilight slipped away.

Suddenly, Applejack didn’t feel particularly welcome. And it was getting late in the morning; she could feel it in her bones. She had work to do.

“Maybe Ah’d better go.”

“N–no, Applejack, I–”

She had left before Twilight could finish the sentence. The door thudded shut behind her, and she was soon trotting briskly towards Sweet Apple Acres.

If everypony had stared at her before, now everypony was outright gawking at her. Ponies became conspicuously quiet at the sight of her, but didn’t even pretend to stop staring. Some just left it at that; others mumbled amongst themselves at the periphery of her hearing. The topic was obvious. After vanishing with Twilight the previous night, she was sure incredible rumors would be circulating.

Increasing her pace, she reminded herself that the rumors were mostly true. Starting to gallop at that point, she was relieved when Ponyville’s residences were at last replaced at her side by rows of trees. The wind sweeping over her carried the smell of ripe apples, and with it, the relaxing notion of home and normalcy.

“Hey big sis!”

She skidded to a halt, nearly toppling over her sister. “Oh, hi Apple Bloom.”

The precocious filly grinned widely. “Where were you last night?”

“Um…”

“With a very special somepony?” Apple Bloom fluttered her eyelashes as she smiled slyly, leaning into an imaginary partner.

Applejack felt her cheeks redden. “Didn’t Mamma tell you to keep your muzzle out of other ponies’ business?”

Apple Bloom was not deterred by Applejack’s admonishment; if anything, she was convinced by it. She bounced up and down excitedly. “Who is it? Somepony I know?”

“Come on, Apple Bloom, don’t ya have school?”

“It’s Sea Pony Memoriam Day, no school!” she replied, cheerfully. “Is it… is it…” She scratched her head. “Noteworthy?”

Trotting towards her home, Applejack shook her head, hoping that she could simply let the guessing game wear itself out. “Don’t ya have some chores?”

“Is it… Lucky?”

She shook her head again, now maintaining a pace somewhat too fast for her sister to comfortably follow.

Apple Bloom seemed satisfied. “Well, there ain’t a stallion in Ponyville good enough for my big sis anyway!”

Seeing her chance for a bit of deceptive honesty, Applejack nodded quickly, without turning or breaking her gait.

The filly stopped following, distracted by something moving in a nearby bush. Applejack could see a purple tail twitching inside, but opted not to spare the fillies their fun.

“Just don’t forget to do your chores, OK? We can chat later.”

She of course knew that Apple Bloom’s chores would remain undone. Youth was not without its advantages.

As the rear of the the barn which housed her trusty apple cart came into sight, an unexpected visitor came into focus. Applejack stopped.

Fluttershy was shuffling her hooves in the dirt, her eyes red and darting about. She was talking, but still too far away to be heard, and only barely visible on the other side of the barn. Treading lightly, Applejack moved towards her pegasus guest, but soon found that Fluttershy wasn’t alone. Big Macintosh was listening silently, nodding along with eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration. She seemed depressed, but if anypony could help with that, surely Big Macintosh could.

Not wanting to interrupt—or, really, not wanting to get involved—Applejack slunk away, moving towards a row of young trees on the opposite side of the farmhouse. They weren’t growing as strong as they should be, since she hadn’t been putting as much time into them as she should have. She put herself to her task, trying not to think about the occasional sound of her brother and friend’s chat that drifted to her ears.

They were barely audible, but Fluttershy didn’t sound particularly happy. As time wore on, her voice grew quieter, but also less forlorn, until she was inaudible.

After an hour or so of toiling, there was a knock at the farmhouse door. Applejack wiped off her hooves, pondering for a moment just why everypony always knocked on the door even though she was always outside. Nonetheless, she dutifully trotted towards the house, and was surprised to find Twilight waiting for her on the house’s front porch.

“You forgot your hat,” Twilight said. It unfolded from her saddlebags; Applejack winced instinctively at seeing her favorite hat being crumpled and wrinkled, and snatched it away gracelessly. She was relieved to discover that it was mostly unharmed.

“Thanks.” It was curt, but sincere. She donned the hat, feeling complete again.

“I…” Twilight paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I really like… your mane. Down, I mean. You’re beautiful with your hair down.”

Applejack paused. In her rush to get to work, she hadn’t bothered to go inside and tie up her hair. “Thanks,” she replied faintly.

Twilight rubbed a hoof against her leg. “Can I come in?”

Applejack opened the door and stood aside, and Twilight nervously crept through the doorway. She moved as if to sit at the dining table, but awkwardly stopped short, opting instead to stand at one end. Applejack grabbed the opposite chair and dragged it across the ground, scuffing the floor as it went, then sat down.

“Applejack, please, let me explain…” Twilight’s tone was pleading. “When I first confided in Fluttershy, I was just afraid of how she would react… When she told me about the whole group…”

Applejack shuddered slightly at the thought. That organization no longer dominated her thoughts, but it still made her uncomfortable.

“Yeah, exactly. All those ponies.” She furrowed her brow thoughtfully. “I started thinking about how great those ponies are, and how great you are, and I… I stopped imagining that I could be with you. With so many ponies, so many wonderful, kind friends, who was I? Just some… egghead.”

“Egghead? Ah ain’t Dash, Twi.”

Twilight’s gaze drifted down Applejack’s side, but she quickly turned away, reddening. “No, you’re not.”

Noticing the wayward glance, Applejack caught herself smiling. She supposed there was nothing really wrong with it. Marefriend? Lover? It seemed a relevant question again.

“It’s just… I know what jealousy feels like, Applejack. It just seems unfair.”

“Unfair?”

“Well, you know,” Twilight’s ears folded back. “When you’re a foal, they tell you you’re supposed to share…”

“Uh… Twi?”

“And then, all these ponies want the same thing…”

“Um…”

“It just seems like the only fair thing–”

Applejack loudly cut off her line of thought. “You ain’t suggestin’ what Ah think you’re suggestin’, are ya?!”

Tilting her head to the side, Twilight studied Applejack ponderously for a few seconds. Her eyes suddenly went wide with realization and her cheeks glowed. “N–no! I just– I just meant–”

Applejack found herself smirking, and she stood up and backed away, feigning shock.

“All I meant was that it’s not fair!”

“Really, Twi! Ah didn’t know you were that kind of pony!” Eyes twinkling, she grinned mischeivously. “Ah mean, Ah know you smart gals are into some weird stuff, but–”

“No! I just think Fluttershy–”

“Fluttershy too?!”

“No!”

She couldn’t hold it in anymore. Applejack guffawed, and prodded Twilight’s shoulder with a hoof. “Ah’m just teasin’, silly.”

Twilight turned bright red and covered her face in her hooves. “I’m just worried about Fluttershy and the others.”

Applejack held up Twilight’s chin and tilted her head towards one of the house’s smaller windows on the north side. She led them over in a quick trot and, with a smile, leaned out to see the distant barn.

Fluttershy and Big Macintosh sat behind it, the former leaning against the latter’s large frame and talking idly about something with a subdued, but not depressed, manner. Together they watched the sunlight peeking out a hole in a bank of clouds that was lazily drifting over the east orchard.

Applejack turned her head, confused. It usually wasn’t like the weather staff to do such a slipshod job with the clouds. That thought vanished when she noticed the pony behind them. Rainbow Dash winked at her and flew away, leaving nothing behind but her trademark rainbow streak.

Not catching sight of the ponies outside from her vantage point, Twilight pushed against Applejack, trying to get a better view. Her eyes opened wide and she smiled brightly at what she saw.

Applejack no longer noticed. She felt the soft body against her side, the rising and falling of Twilight’s chest and the quick beating of her heart.

“I think,” Twilight said, slowly, “Fluttershy’ll be OK.”

“Sure she will.” Lifting herself from her distraction, Applejack nodded vigorously. “ ’course she will!”

Twilight kept staring at the new couple as her companion made a hasty retreat. “Well, Ah’ve still got work to do, so Ah’ll talk to you later, Twilight.”

Applejack had nearly made it out the door before she was interrupted. “Let me help!”

She stopped, hoof still hovering at the door frame. “Uh, you sure?”

“I want to! I… I want to show you that I can do more than silly magic tricks.”

She tried to figure out what Twilight was trying to show, or trying to prove, but ultimately gave up at guessing. It took only a moment of pondering before she decided to humor Twilight; after all, it was folly to refuse a helping hoof. “OK, you can help, Ah guess.”

“Yes!” Twilight enthusiastically clapped her hooves. “And I promise: no magic!”

Applejack rolled her eyes, still facing the door so Twilight wouldn’t notice. “You can use magic if you want. Come on.”

The two trotted out towards Sweet Apple Acres’ west field, and soon past it. Applejack kept a leisurely pace at first, but soon the pair were nearly racing to reach their destination, their lively gait replaced by a competitive gallop. Twilight was, of course, no competition, but neither minded, enjoying the horseplay.

Applejack stopped at a row of tilled soil, wearing a victorious smirk. Twilight was close behind her, but breathing heavily.

“You sure you want to help?”

“Of course,” Twilight wheezed, catching her breath, “I’m ready!”

Applejack smiled. “Well, we’re plantin’. Seed bag’s over there.” She indicated to a collection of burlap sacks full of daisy seeds.

“Oh! Great… um…” She pushed her hoof into the dirt. “How do I do that?”

Applejack released an amused snort, before flipping up one of the bags with a front hoof in a well-practiced motion. It spun in the air, not spilling any of its content, until she caught it in her teeth and carefully extracted a single seed. She dug up a bit of dirt, dropped the seed and buried it again in a single swift action, then looked back at Twilight, still holding the bag.

Looking concerned, the would-be farmer unicorn nodded and hesitantly pushed her hoof into the ground.

“No, no,” Applejack chided, “don’t press the dirt, dig.”

She pulled back her hoof, embarrassed, and tried a different approach. It was hardly perfect, but she looked at Applejack with such imploring eyes that she received only a kind nod in response. Validated, she grabbed a bag and set to her task. Applejack went to the next row down and started planting her own seeds.

The work went quickly, and went well. Twilight picked up the rest by watching Applejack plant, and they made fast progress. It felt like only minutes before they were finishing their fifth row, three having been planted by Applejack and two by Twilight.

“Whew!” Applejack doffed her hat to wipe the sweat from her brow. The sun was high in the sky, and she figured that her assistant would be tired by now, so she stopped with her mind on lunch.

Twilight didn’t notice. She continued to turn dirt, carefully planting seed by seed, her tail twitching excitedly in the air with each success. She was clearly sweating, but refused to complain. Applejack had to admit that she had stamina. She finally stopped only when she reached into her bag for a seed and found it to be empty.

With the bag floating in an aura beside her, she trotted to Applejack, beaming through her weariness. “I’m out of–”

The bag dropped. “Oops! Um, sorry.” Her face drooped, the light fading from her eyes in an instant. “No magic.”

Applejack was taken aback by Twilight’s fast turn from joy to depression. “Hey, that’s OK, Twilight. You can use magic if you want, it ain’t–”

“But I was trying to prove that I can do it without magic.”

“Well I believe you. Just look!” Applejack waved a hoof over newly planted ground.

“I wasn’t trying to prove it to you.”

Both stood there, shifting uncomfortably. After a few moments, Twilight folded back her ears and looked up again, affecting an apologetic frown. Applejack sighed and studied her friend’s expression thoughtfully as an autumn gust of wind ruffled their manes.

Applejack pressed her lips against Twilight’s too quickly for her to react, and for once, she did nothing to stop it. But almost as soon as it had started, the kiss was over.

“See? No magic necessary.”

Twilight refused to meet her gaze. She stared at the discarded seed bag, catching it under a hoof as a stray breeze nearly claimed it. She shook her head and closed her eyes. Her horn glowed, and Applejack took a cautious step back. When Twilight looked up, eyes aglow, her intent was clear. Applejack raised an eyebrow and stood her ground.

This kiss was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. A warmth migrated from Twilight’s tongue to hers, spreading to her shoulders before sending a tingling sensation down her spine. The fire and ice she’d previously only felt in her dreams asserted themselves, but pleasantly, sending a prickly, warming sensation throughout her body. She couldn’t see anything, couldn’t feel anything but the kiss, anything but Twilight’s lips, her tongue, her mouth, her love.

She tried to hold the feeling for as long as she could, but it gradually faded away.

Breathing heavily, she opened her eyes. She was lying on her side, a few feet from where they’d stopped in the field. Twilight was looking over her with an odd mix of pride and shame in her eyes.

“See. Magic. I’m always using magic, I just hold it back sometimes.”

Applejack’s attempts at forming a rational response came out as nothing but a belabored stuttering of the word “wow”.

Despite the situation, Twilight couldn’t help but laugh at her friend’s state. “Sorry, I guess I should have used a little bit less magic.”

Applejack barely managed to nod, slowly rousing herself from her stupor.

“Um… Applejack?”

“Yeah?”

Twilight looked down quizzically. “Why is a chilly rattlesnake more lonely than any other rattlesnake?”

Author's Notes:

Whew, last week was a trip.

Sorry to anypony who may have been confused, but, y’know, this is a romantic comedy. ’s been marked that way since the beginning! We’re shoulder-deep in romance now… if you know what I mean.

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Editor: TheNitroPony
Cover art: Mr Snowpony
Prereading: Jackie and Mr Snowpony