Doug steps into the bathroom, closing the door behind him, the doorknob clicking shut. He breathes a sigh of relief, looking down at his full erection.

You know how close you were, his body unnecessarily reminds him. He grits his teeth as his member throbs, uncomfortably hard. She was literal inches away. And she wanted it. Badly. You could see that look in her eyes.

You don’t know that, Doug counters. And there’s no way I’m doing that. Especially this quickly. I barely know her. With all the misunderstandings that have happened already? I just have to be really careful around her, not put myself in a situation where that could happen.

Because I don’t know if I could stop.

He distracts himself by inspecting the room around him. It looks, well, like a fairly normal bathroom. Window with curtains that might work as a kilt, too-low mirror, a single sink above dual cabinets. His curiosity overrides his compunction about rummaging around their house, opening the cabinets. Two pipes run in and out, as expected, except that there’s a metallic box in the middle with Cloudcraft stamped on the side. It’s both warm and cool, depending on which side he touches. He tries the sturdy faucets, not terribly surprised that the water comes out much hotter and colder. I wonder if the refrigerator uses a similar contraption. Underneath the sink are a variety of cleaning supplies, each with a picture of what he guesses is the surface they're supposed to clean. Maybe half a dozen folded towels, each large enough to have a picnic with. Apple themed much like, well, everything. Except the toilet.

The toilet gives Doug pause. Not more than the new things he’s seen (which would be Applejack and Rainbow Dash’s blatant use of magic). Maybe it stands out because of the stark white instead of the warm browns and oranges of the rest of the house. Maybe because the proportions are off; it’s almost uncomfortably low to the ground, thinner and longer. Or, most of all, maybe it’s because of how similar it is to what he’s used to using. I’d have thought a sapient equine population would have developed different tools more suited for their use. Like, doorknobs? I know they can use them, somehow, but still.

He finds the toilet paper, with little diamond prints, right next to the toilet. He squats down, having to adjust his seating, before he hears raised voices from outside.

Applejack calmly stares her brother down, neither budging. “Morn’,” she says.

His expression remains unmoved.

“Mornin’,” she tries again, considerably harder. She frowns when Big Mac doesn’t return the greeting. “Nothin’? Not even for your lil’ sister?”

“Morn’,” Big Mac says icily.

“Well,” Applejack says after a brief delay, “if that’s all you have to say, then Ah’ll just be on mah way.” She tries to walk past Big Mac, but a single step to the side blocks her path.

She smirks as she backs up. “And here Ah thought you’d have no trouble speakin’ your mind.”

“Applejack,” he says slowly, his words carefully enunciated. His lack of the diminutive bothers her. “Ah promised to talk less, not at all. You gonna explain what’s goin’ on here? What this,” he snorts in frustration, “creature is doin’ here?”

“Ah told ya already,” Applejack says, turning her head up slightly. “Doug’s here to work on the farm. We need the hooves.”

“You know better’n me we can’t afford to hire anypony on,” Big Mac counters. “What’d’ya plan on payin’ him? Room and board?” He takes an exaggerated sniff of the air. “Or somethin’ else?”

“It ain’t like that!” Applejack growls, though both can tell it’s just for show. She tries again, softer this time. “It ain’t like that. That’s just from wrestlin’.”

Big Mac leans down slightly, still towering above Applejack. His quiet words cut hard. “Then why’d ya come to breakfast already smellin’ like him?”

Applejack gulps, looking away. “It ain’t like that,” she whispers. A brief flash of anger crosses her face as she whirls back to glare at Big Mac. “And even if it was, who’re you to tell me who Ah can or cannot date?”

“Because Ah’m your brother and Ah care about you! Ah know Ah need to listen to you, Applejack, but you ain’t told me anythin’ Ah didn’t already know!” Big Mac takes a deep breath, visibly trying to calm himself down. “Ah’m listenin’,” he says quietly.

“From what Ah’ve seen,” Applejack says, her tone conciliatory, “Doug’s a hard worker. Ah’m sure he can keep up with us on the farm. We just gotta give him the chance.”

“A chance is exactly what it is,” Big Mac snorts out. “He ain’t an earth pony. Hay, he ain’t a pony! Ah’m sorry, Applejack, but this sounds just like one’a your horn-brained ideas! Ah gotta put mah hoof down.” Big Mac draws up to his full height, glaring down at Applejack. She returns a glare no less fiery. He points to the closed bathroom door. “Either he goes, or-”

“Big Macintosh!” Granny Smith belts out, standing at the doorway to the kitchen. “What in the blazes do you think you’re doin’?!”

Big Mac immediately shies down, his ears laying flat. “Ah-”

“No, you listen here,” Granny Smith interrupts, storming over and reaching up to grab the red stallion by the ear. She tugs him down, Big Mac wincing. She glares at Applejack’s smug expression, the orange mare slowly backing up as the smile wipes from her muzzle. “And this is for you, too, missy. Now, Ah got your attention?”

“Yes’m,” both say, subdued.

Granny Smith sighs, a bit of her fiery passion dissipating. “Long time ago, back before you two were a twinkle in your dam’s eye, Ah was faced with a similar dilemma.” She looks at Big Mac. “Ah tried doin’ what you’re doin’. Tellin’ ‘em that, no, they couldn’t be together. Ah had mah reasons, ‘course, and Ah wasn’t the only one to blame. But for all what Ah thought were good intentions, all Ah ended up doin’ was drivin’ one family apart. Ah darn near drove two t'pieces, and Ah ain’t about to watch that happen again.”

“But-”

“Now, listen here,” Granny Smith says, cutting Big Mac off again. “You got your doubts. Ah get that. But this’ll either work or it ain’t. You’ll be right, or you ain’t. But you drivin’ a wedge between you’n your sister ain’t gonna change the outcome one bit. It’ll only make things worse, no matter whether you get to say ‘Ah told ya so’ or not.”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac says somberly.

“Now, you, missy,” Granny Smith shouts without raising her voice, whirling on Applejack. It wipes the smug smile off her face instantly. “What in the hay are you thinkin’, invitin’ somepony to work on the farm?! Do you run Sweet Apple Acres!?”

“No, Ma’am,” Applejack says, though there’s a little fire behind her words, like she’s itching for a fight.

“Darn tootin’,” Granny Smith spits out. “You promise him anythin’?”

Applejack thinks for a moment. “Nnope,” she replies confidently.

Granny Smith nods. “So you’re learnin’. Good. You’ll need to hammer out the details.” She looks down her muzzle at Applejack, despite being shorter. “You best not be givin’ away the farm, ya’hear?”

Applejack’s smile brightens. “So you’ll let him stay?”

Granny Smith gives a carefully measured nod. “And Ah expect ya to treat him no differently than you would a pony. Remember what happened with Caramel?”

Applejack can’t help but let her muzzle contort to a scowl. “Eeyup.”

“You treat him like that, and Ah’ll know you ain’t givin’ him no special favors.” Granny Smith’s glare intensifies as Applejack frowns. “Got it?”

“Eeyup,” Applejack says, forcing a smile to her muzzle.

Granny Smith looks between Applejack and Big Mac. “Now quit your lollygaggery and get back to work!”

“Eeyup,” the two chorus as the green mare walks back into the kitchen, getting herself a cider.

“Ah’m sorry,” Big Mac says quietly. “Ah started runnin’ my mouth again, without thinkin’ about what Ah was sayin’. Ah’m just worried, not just about you, but what everypony else’ll think.”

“Ah wouldn’t give two bits for what anypony else thinks,” Applejack spits out. She nuzzles Big Mac. “But Ah care about what you think. And just ‘cause he’s workin’ here, that don’t mean that anything’s gonna happen between us. Just bein’ friendly is all.”

Big Mac returns the nuzzle, smiling. “So…” Big Mac says, voice almost pleading, “what about cousin Apple Core? He seemed like he was a bit taken by ya at last year’s reunion. And you didn’t mind his company at all.”

“Ah know,” Applejack says with a slight frown, “but that’d mean one of us’d need to uproot.”

“One of us-” Big Mac motions between himself and Applejack “-’ll need to uproot, regardless. At some point. Sweet Apple Acre’s big, but it ain’t two herds big. Unless you plan on marryin’ the farm.” He winks at her, drawing a roll of the eyes.

“Could always get more land,” Applejack says with a smile.

“Eeyup, but what’ll the neighbors say?” Big Mac gently slugs Applejack in the withers before grabbing her and nuzzling her neck. He sighs into her mane, closing his eyes. “You sure about this?”

“Ah am,” Applejack returns. “Plus, you were the one who wouldn’t give anypony a chance.”

“Ah gave Caramel a chance,” Big Mac counters.

“Caramel was my idea,” Applejack says, frowning at how that experiment had worked out.

Big Mac grins, Applejack’s eyes going to the ceiling, both knowing exactly what she’s thinking and his stance on it. “And you know what Ah say about ideas.”

“Can’t plow a field with ‘em,” Applejack says, softly sighing. “Ah’ll be honest, Ah don’t know if Doug can plow a field. Not like you or me.”

“Ah know. Ah still don’t like it,” he whispers, “but for you, Ah’ll give him a chance.”

“Thanks,” Applejack whispers back, affectionately nuzzling her brother. She softly sings, “No matter what comes, we will face the weather. We’re Apples-”

“-to the core,” ends Big Mac. He smirks, eyes twinkling. “So, did Ah mention cousin Apple Core? He seemed-”

Applejack slugs Big Mac in the withers again, cutting him off. Both glance as the door to the bathroom opens, Doug peeking out.

“Thought you jumped out the window,” Applejack says jovially. She glances inside the bathroom; the window is still shut, and it looks like he didn’t make a mess. Whew.

“Tried,” Doug says good naturedly as he pushes the door the rest of the way open. He's still pantsless. “Then I realized if I left without giving it the ‘ole college try I’d probably face not only your wrath but Granny’s-” he grimaces at the thought, “-so I figured it’d be safer working myself to death here instead.”

“Darn tootin’,” Applejack says, smiling broadly. “And speakin’ of workin’ ourselves to death; it ain’t killed anypony yet, but Ah’m not sayin’ it can’t.”

“So, a tractor’s only going to rip my arms off, but I’ll live?” Doug says, torn between smiling and running for the door.

“Tractor?” Applejack spits out. Ah’ve just only heard the name and Ah already don’t like it. And Ah guess he calls his forelegs arms? “What’s that?”

“Um,” Doug glances around, looking for a good comparison. “A mechanical engine, runs off gasoline or some other combustible. Provides mechanical work, like spinning something. Generally more powerful than a person, or a pony, doing whatever task you design it to do.”

Applejack grunts disapprovingly. “That sounds like one o’ them horn-headed ideas that they didn’t think all the way through. Like an outta control come-to-life spell they didn’t give any safety standards. No, this’ll only bore you to death. Ah’m talkin’, of course, about wheat farmin’.”

Boring to death is good. Unless we’re talking about mining. Also, spells? Come to life; is that like animating objects? Can they duplicate just about anything that they envision? Will I find sorcerers and wizards? “Sounds f…” Doug trails off at Applejack’s glare. “Enlightening?” She carefully nods. “Definitely not fun. Got it.”

“Darn tootin’,” Applejack says, leading the way outside and to the cart with the bags of wheat seeds.

Next Chapter: Ch. 10 - Springleaf Estimated time remaining: 15 Hours, 26 Minutes