October 7th, 993 Domina Solaria

“Are you sure about this, darling? I don’t think that goes there.”

“You have exactly as much experience with this as I do.”

“So, none.” There is a pause. “Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Yeah, well, suck it up. You’re the one who thought I should try my hand at this.”

“Well, somehow I didn’t think it would be this strenuous. You’re always going on about how good you are with your hands, this shouldn’t be any different.”

“I don’t-” Doug grunts loudly “-do that, I just compare how my hands are compared to hooves and horn.” He grunts again, more unsure than overexerting.

“That’s a tight fit,” Rarity remarks worriedly. There is a loud sound of metal scraping against metal. “Do be careful, I wouldn’t want to break anything.”

“If you weren’t so coltish,” Doug says as he looks out from underneath the sink, “you’d be down here helping. Your horn should be great at this.”

“Oh, pah-lease,” Rarity retorts, standing well behind Doug and dismissively waving a hoof. “I’d have to squeeze myself as thin as you in order to fit.” She pauses for a brief moment. “Also, since when did you start using words like ‘coltish’?”

Doug ignores Rarity’s last comment as he gives his wrench a final turn, done tightening the last bolt. “Alright,” he says, tossing Applejack’s notes to the side. He pulls himself out from under and stands up with one smooth motion. “You should have hot and cold water back.”

Rarity takes the time to look over the rest of the changes. What used to be the back showroom is now a fully stocked kitchen and, with the dividing wall, laundry room. It still has the same vaulted ceilings the entirety of the Boutique shares, but she can’t see using the vertical space for storage, preferring the lofty and grand architecture reminiscent of Canterlot Castle. Counters run halfway along the room with freshly cut and stained applewood cabinets containing her dinnerware. Fluttershy engraved butterflies along the handles, as Doug keeps calling them, and did a remarkable job on the details. They managed to snag a refurbished Weathercraft refrigerator and stove, though she would need to do her dishes by hoof. Rather than a repurposed workbench as her occasional dinner table she now has a proper circular table with an elegant green fitted tablecloth already on top. One human style chair - that, sadly, has to be uncomfortably low to tuck under - hides next to a long bench, enough for three fillies side by side should the need arise. Nearly everything had been hewn by hand, though the design is all hers, and she can’t help but grin at the possibilities of decorating.

“It only took twice as long as your estimate,” Rarity quips despite her elation. “You’re improving.”

“Yeah, hardly.” Doug wipes his grimy hands against each other, looking around for something to use as a towel.

Rarity backs away as his gaze rests on her. “I’ll go turn the water back on,” she says quickly, disappearing to one of the back rooms.

Doug laughs to himself until he hears her hoofsteps returning. He wipes his hands off on one of the rags Rarity has around the kitchen, then tests the water. It takes but a moment for the air to clear the lines, then a hissing stream that he lets run.

“It works?” Rarity asks from the doorway, her tone guarded.

“Great success,” Doug returns, flashing her two thumbs up.

Rarity must have judged his hands acceptably clean because she walks next to him, ducking down and inspecting the work. “Nothing seems wrong,” she says neutrally as she turns the water off. “I’ll be sure to thank Applejack for her help as well.”

Doug crouches next to her, ruffling her ears. “And with that,” Doug says with a touch of relief, “I finally get my stall-day nights back.”

“Aww,” Rarity says, pushing against his hand and frowning. “Sad you won’t be spending as much time working in here?”

“Well, now that we have the last of the home improvements done,” Doug says, his scratches getting deeper and almost pushing her down, ”I think we can spend our time on more… productive matters.”

“Making this Carousel a home?” Rarity says with a chuckle.

“...Yeah, sure, let’s go with that.” Doug gives her mane a light tweak, earning him a disgruntled glare. “Dinner?”

“I’ve been famished for hours,” Rarity whines melodramatically, swooning into his arms with a hoof across her forehead.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Doug says, tilting her head up.

She smiles as he kisses her, her horn lighting and pulling the sack of Apple goodies he always brings. “Fritters?” she asks, searching through and finding nothing. Her mournful and confused look goes to Doug. “Why are the fritters gone?”

“They’re already out,” Doug says as he points at the table.

Rarity grins sheepishly as she bounds up to the table, eagerly digging in while Doug pulls out his chair.

“So, making this place a home.” Doug pulls out a small framed picture from the bag.

“How did you get this?” demands Rarity in a soft voice, hoof shaking as she holds the photo. It’s of her climbing the wall of the Boutique, in her full climbing gear. She had only done that once after their eventful night months and months ago and thought it was on a whim more than anything. Well, maybe Doug had prompted her, that little sneak.

“Fluttershy can be very quiet when she wants to,” Doug says as he rubs her withers. “Which, admittedly, is pretty much all the time.”

“That would be creepy if she wasn’t in the herd,” Rarity remarks, muzzle curling to a smirk.

“At the time she wasn’t,” Doug says, chuckling to himself. “I think she got a lot of photos, too. Before and after. Good times.”

“Indeed,” Rarity returns, happily munching away as a hoof strokes the picture. She looks so thin, compared to how bloated she feels these days. The way her sides blow out past her flanks, and her belly constantly threatens to droop lower if she isn’t holding it in. She’d compare herself to Chiffon Swirl: the portly earth pony always indulges in her sweets yet lacks Pinkie Pie’s exuberant energy to burn them off. And there’s still four months left!

“Doug,” Rarity asks, the touch of curiosity in her voice just enough to pique his interest. He turns his head slightly to regard her. “Do you think I’m fat?”

Doug taps a single finger against his chin as he thoughtfully considers the question.

It sometimes drives Rarity mad with how infuriating he can be.

“No,” Doug finally answers.

“Because I feel fat,” Rarity complains, even the delicious fritters not enough to cool her temper. She would waddle around, waggling her flanks, but Doug would intentionally take that the wrong way.

“You’re not fat,” Doug says halfheartedly, like he knows the battle is lost and is trying to salvage the war.

“But Doug…” Rarity whines as she stuffs her face with fritters, “I’m hideous!”

“Can I pick you up?” Doug asks as he stands, pushing his chair away from the table.

“Can you or may you?” Rarity stalls, taken aback slightly.

“Yes,” Doug answers, smirking. As Rarity is about to reply he bends over, wrapping one arm around her neck and the other just under her rump. He grunts as he lifts, bodily picking her up and hugging her close.

“If I can pick you up,” he strains out, planting a kiss on the side of her head, “then you’re not fat.”

“Oh, fine,” Rarity says with a heavy sigh at losing her ability to complain about being fat for the day. “Is Applejack fat?”

“Not yet,” Doug says, shaking his head. “I give her about two months before she is. Sadly, I’m no Milo.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Rarity says with a forced smile. She’s not sure who or what his reference is, but it sounds Minotaurian. When Doug tries to snag one of her fritters she smacks his hand with a hoof. “Mine.”

“Fine, fine,” Doug says, grabbing a tray of the apple dumplings. He looks outside the drapeless window, idly scratching at his thin-haired chest. “So, it’s finally gotten cold enough.”

“Yes,” Rarity says with a nod. It’s impossible not to notice unless you’re a pegasus, and business has been steadily rising as customers come to the same realization. Most of her sales go towards hats, boots, and scarves, normally the extent of what a pony will need unless they plan on living outside in the snow. Their heavier winter coat generally covers the rest.

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself. “My time in North Dakota let me get through spring, and summers here are balmy even during the worst storms. But with fall finishing and cold weather on the way, I want a full set of winter gear.”

Rarity nearly drops her fritter in excitement. “You do?” She grins ecstatically. “You do!” Her eyes trace all over his body, calculating lengths and colors and all manner of stylistic choices. “Why didn’t you say so earlier? Winter is always my busiest time of year, and I should have started this project ages ago!”

“Well,” Doug says with a sigh, “we were busy getting the Boutique livable, and I’ve been working on incorporating a few of the Shades towns that want me to manage their weather, and the Apples can always use another hand. ”

“No no no, no, no,” Rarity hurriedly spits out, shaking her head. “There will be no rush job on this, like they are some droopy dra-wers you’re only going to wear to work! We need to coordinate!”

Doug blinks. “We do?”

“Of course we do, darling!” Rarity grabs Doug’s hand with her hoof and practically drags him out of the kitchen. On second thought she stops, levitating the fritters, then gallops upstairs with the human in tow. She flings open the door to her now-combination bedroom and primary workroom, dozens of colors of fabric levitating out of her closet.

“Let’s see, let’s see,” Rarity mutters to herself, fervently glancing between the different swatches and Doug’s hair, his eyes, his skin. “Now, I’ve always thought you looked best in earth pony tones, the more natural reds and lighter browns, with perhaps an accent, at most, of green.”

“Do you even know what I want?” Doug asks, a bit miffed at the fabrics surrounding him.

“Well, your ears always look a bit nippy, so a hat.” Rarity continues down his body. “Gloves, of course.” She frowns as she gets to his knees. “Socks. And I’m hoping we can get away with the same short ones you normally wear with your boots. Oh, and boots, I suppose.”

“And…” Doug prompts, rolling his hand through the air.

Rarity stares at him for a few seconds. She pulls out a fritter, chewing it over. “...Pants?”

Doug nods firmly. “Pants. Two kinds, one lighter for indoor use and sleeping and the other heavier for use in the snow. Something slick, water-resistant, that kind of thing. And underwear, same kind of material as the first set of pants, but shorter. Two light undershirts, one a short-sleeved tee-shirt, and one long-sleeved. Two long-sleeve jackets, again one lighter like a windbreaker, the other heavier for use in a blizzard or something.”

“Won’t you overheat wearing all of this?” Rarity asks as she jots everything down, a slight frown. She likes how he looks, but at least if he’s going to spoil their view he can do it in something of hers.

“I dress in layers. So, if it’s just a bit of snow, I might only need the light pants and tee shirt, plus jacket, boots, gloves.” Doug glances around at the numerous partially made winter gear around the workroom. “A scarf wouldn’t be bad, either. And I’m thinking multiple sets of the lighter gear. I should only need one of the heavier set unless I end up doing a lot of work outside.”

“It sounds like you’ve thought this through,” Rarity says, a little disappointed that she has been denied the pleasure of figuring out exactly what he will wear. She much prefers that compared to being told what to do and make, especially if it’s making the same dreary thing over and over again. But, alas, sometimes the customer is right, and he’s been a very faithful customer.

“We humans spend a lot of time thinking about clothes,” Doug says with a nod, “especially compared to ponies. Present company excluded, of course.”

Rarity grins as she goes through her fabrics, pulling one out for him to test and see if it is acceptable as a lighter layer.

Doug runs his hand over the first one, frowning. The wool is quite coarse, though it would certainly hold the heat in. “Anything softer?”

“Softer?” Rarity frowns. She turns back to her closets; she thought that was the best compromise between heat and softness. Normally that’s not a complaint ponies have, especially earth ponies. Pegasi on the other hoof care greatly, especially around the wing area, but it’s quite rare for them to wear much of anything.

“Yeah. This goes right against my skin; I wouldn’t want it to chafe. Especially for some of the more sensitive areas.” Doug rubs at his crotch uncomfortably. “I can always wear another layer on top of that to protect against the cold.”

“Yes, yes, certainly, darling,” Rarity says as she pulls out her second attempt. It’s the kind of fabric she uses to line her saddles, and hopefully Doug doesn’t know the connotations behind it. And wears something on top so other ponies don’t notice. She only has it in black, a most terrible choice for wearing during the day. “Perhaps this is more to your liking?”

Doug runs it through his fingers. It’s some blend between cotton and an unknown fabric. “I like it. Much softer, though it’s thin.”

“Yes, you’ll certainly want to wear another layer on top,” Rarity suggests. “As well, it’s not as sturdy. Make sure to bring it back if you’re wearing holes or if the edges get ragged.” Her muzzle purses as she practically snatches the fabric back, tucking it away. “And I’ll see about getting it in a lighter color.”

“Aww.” Doug draws out his moan. Rarity can’t help but think it is purely to irritate her.

“Hush.” Rarity sticks her nose in the air melodramatically. "Now, are you going to stifle my creative genius at every turn, or will you graciously leave me a modicum of my independence?”

“I do love a good stifling,” Doug quips back. He scratches at her neck, enjoying the softness of her thickening coat. He can’t help but envy the ponies and their rapidly adapting bodies. He continues, his tone conciliatory, “You know best; I trust you.”

“Mm, that I do, darling.” Rarity briefly nuzzles her stallion before the bell to her front door rings merrily. Moments later Rainbow Dash flies into the master bedroom and flops down on Rarity’s four poster bed. Her limbs splay out in every direction as she exhales loudly and stares up at the red canopy.

“Doug,” Rainbow Dash whines loudly, stretching his name out. The human rolls his eyes, smirking, while Rarity’s narrow. “I'm fat.”

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