Necessary Love

by Zurock

Chapter 31: Measure

Body goes up another floor
Each step more, falls a drop of sweat
A place for these hooves to explore
'Til they're sore, and so aching wet

Higher, and higher!
You're the tower, and the sky!
Higher, and higher!
Feel the power, gasp your sigh!
Desire, much higher
Then the thunder will reply!

These breaths so warm against your skin
Air so thin, above the night glow
You take me into heaven when
You begin, and the world shrinks below

Higher, and higher!
The sights now blur; make me fly!
Higher, and higher!
You're the tower that I'll try!
Entire, our desire
There's no sun where we will lie!

The stars take flight...
The moon's blue light...
This moment's right!
At the top! This top!
Of your spire!

Higher, and higher...

Gallowayo's nervousness – his reluctance, his general inexperience – didn't show. The stage fast became his own and he poured himself over it. His band played from far in the back shadows, hardly there at all save for their music. Only the drum of the surf contested the roaring coming from the stage's speakers, but in the end Gallowayo's voice was stronger. It conquered the night.

Every song received the full throat of his soul. His voice stretched over an impressive range which he was able to slide up and down with ease, flying soft where appropriate but humming hard when necessary, and crying fierce at times but crooning smooth in the right moments. No movement of his tone was arbitrary; he reached for intensity when he knew he wanted it and he blasted into those heights with the simple turn of a key, as if all of his meekness had been a mere coat he had worn only to have discarded it at this exact moment. Some of his strongest shouts needed his full body, shaking him sharply all the way down to the tip of his tail and the bottoms of his hooves.

And the music's power moved him about constantly; it was little wonder they had cleared the whole stage for him. He paced; he wandered; he rolled back and forth across the front of the stage in whatever way the sounds told him to, and his hooves instinctively clopped with the beat. When things were slower he slunk towards the shadows in back, singing softly out of the darkness, but whenever everything flared up he burst into the light and nimbly danced about the stage.

All his energy worked him into a sweat, and under the stage lights his body glistened. His mane especially became drenched with perspiration, growing tangled with curls and often clinging to his face and neck in twisted ways. Yet the show went on regardless of whatever tricky knots or salty weaves got in his way. One lash of his head was usually enough to whip his mane out of his way, and it cast out a mist whenever he did. Eventually sweat even began to seep into his eyes, and he squinted like he had to peer through a downpour of rain. But still he stopped for nothing, so intimate with the stage and so under the direction of the music flowing through the air that he could persevere blind.

If he had ever pretended to have been a rock star when he was a colt, then all those hours of performing alone before imaginary crowds now served him well. There were less exciting shows at bigger name concerts.

Down amidst the spread of tables on the boardwalk, all of Gallowayo's hard work tended to be alternately tuned in and out by the audience. They paid attention when it pleased them, or otherwise they let the noise become an energetic ambiance to whatever else they were doing. Sometimes the songs struck them enough to listen closely or cheer, but other times it was just good old fun to need to shout in order to talk to their tablemates. No particular space had been cleared below the stage for dancing, so things never really rose above ponies wiggling at their seats.

At the back, near the center, James shared a table alone with Prism. The happy pony thrived in the exuberant environment, matching its enthusiasm and energy just as well as she had matched the calm and quiet of the Pleasure Gardens. It was absolutely her pleasure to pitch her voice loudly to the man.

"But it just tastes so terrible!" she laughed at his choice of drink. Her magic raised her own glass to show off her preference: essentially a liquid fruit salad with a cheerful little umbrella in it, free of any alcohol.

"Well, you get used to it after awhile!" James answered. And to prove he enjoyed his drink he took a sip, yet he almost snorted his swig back out when he saw Prism poke her tongue at him in playful disgust. Coughing, he clamped his hand over his nose and mouth to try and suppress the burning in his nostrils.

"Looks delicious!" the pony teased of his reaction.

Hard wheezes cleared the heat out in his throat, coming between his bursts of laughter.

"It's good," he assured her. "It's good. This was mixed well."

Once more he sipped, and this time he pulled it off without difficulty. Then he raised his glass to her.

She did likewise, and together they drank.

But her sip was much shorter. Carefully she let her glass down, and she looked at her partner with more than a little worry.

"You are going to be careful... right?"

Till's warning had been easy to shrug off, but now this was the second serious warning coming from a pony, and all over what was only one small glass of booze. It was enough to make the man lightly quip, "Geez, I feel like I'm in a teen drama. I'll be fine! It's just a little bit to ease my nerves!"

Between his words he slipped a fast glance at Pinkie Pie and all the loud, non-drunken revelry which was going on at her table. When his eyes came back from his aside he was surprised to see Prism had withdrawn into her concern even deeper. There was some hopefulness inside of her still – enough at least to keep her body held up – but her head had been lured towards the floor as if anxious whispers were coming from somewhere under the table.

The curve of her neck was exhausted. The sag of her shoulders was weary. The turn of her frown was tired.

"... It's me, isn't it? I'm making you uncomfortable."

Genuinely James was surprised.

"N-No. No, not-... not at all."

His floppy tongue started slapping noisily against his teeth before it simply tied itself up in a knot. He plugged his drink into his mouth to silence his bumbling foolishness and prevent any nonsense from spilling out.

His denial hadn't alleviated Prism's worry. Not in the slightest. An unhappy fold of doubt pulled down her brow, and her eyes could only push it back up in tiny, brief glances towards the man.

Each hurt look felt like a stab to James and, lowering his glass down slowly, he was able to admit, "Alright, well... yeah... I'm a little... uh, uncomfortable around you. You're, uh... You're sort of WAY more forward than most ponies that I've dealt with. That is, uh, about... certain things, anyway. And, I guess... it's had me off balance..."

The scattershot answer didn't help. Each jumbled, disconnected phrase tumbled out more like an excuse than a reason. Very obviously the pony regarded them as such, responding to each with a gaze that grew only more and more miserably downcast.

James froze his dumb mouth. Then, once he could feel it again, he took a breath.

"But-...," his tone changed, "... but... you know... truthfully..."

The shyest thirteen year-old might have shown more grace, but the man did manage to pull the words out of himself.

"... it's been kind of... nice. It's been nice feeling these things again, after all the stuff I've gone through. It's been good."

The remark hit both Prism AND James as a surprise. For the man it was specifically because of how much of a sudden feeling of relief washed into him; like a lie had been planted deep in him and left to rot but he had finally found the tiny valve of honesty to release the awful pressure.

Abrupt thoughts quickly spun through his head, out of his control. All the quiet moments with Prism came back: holding her hoof as the bells rang in the glittering darkness; soft words being exchanged while at rest in the secluded garden; on the beach, sitting with the warm sand under him while at the same time under her warm, long stares...

Prism meanwhile was quite confused.

"But-... I don't-... You-... you look so uncomfortable right now," she said. And when he answered her with a perplexed look she pointed at him, "You keep wiggling around and fidgeting. You were doing it a lot at lunch, too. I mean, it looks-... it looks like, maybe... you don't want to be here..."

Truly James had no idea what she was talking about. Certainly he had now admitted to being nervous, but he had never thought of secreting himself away, nor had he felt ultimately regretful of the island venture. However, per her suggestion, he took stock of his own body and swiftly discovered that she was right! He was squirming quite badly where he sat, shifting almost nonstop.

But it wasn't for the reasons which she had thought; or at least, not completely so. It was more simple than all that:

He had no chair.

It had been the same situation back during lunch. The low-set tables were built for creatures the size and shape of ponies, not tall men like him. To maintain an adequate height he had been half-sitting on one of the short posts which lined the back of the boardwalk, and the stupid thing was always sliding up his butt. Only someone with superior posterior nimbleness would have ever found the balance sweet spot on one of those things, and a butt-ninja the man was not.

"Oh! Oh, no no no," he laughed, "it's just these tables."

"The... tables?"

"Yeah," he stood up and explained. "Tables are a problem that come up with me now and again here in Equestria. Usually I do okay, when stumps or stools or whatever are provided. I can squat or slouch and it isn't so bad. But when you get places like this where ponies are expected to just park their tails, I don't fit so well. So I've just been trying to make due with this... thing back here. You know, rubbing splinters into my butt."

First a struggle came over the pony, with her head tilting every which way as she tried to parse a concept so thoroughly alien to her pony worldview. But movement took over quickly, with pieces of perspective falling into logical place one after the other like stones laying out a road to wisdom. And at last came a very happy understanding; one which popped suddenly and drove away all the fears with a sudden burst of sunshine.

"Ah ha ha, is that all?" her smile flashed so brightly. Every color on her, from radiant eyes to rainbow mane, sparkled.

"Yeah," he nodded.

That awful feeling pressed on his insides again; that rotting pressure.

"I mean... mostly, yeah," he corrected himself. "And..."

A few more images of bells, gardens, and beaches passed through his mind.

"... I can deal with no chairs. Something like that isn't going to keep me from spending time with you."

Prism jumped so suddenly out of her seat that she practically landed on top of the table.

"I-, I can get you something more comfortable to sit on!" she offered ecstatically.

Her horn started to brilliantly flash, outshining the rolling lights of the stage show. Her careless magic scrambled around eagerly for anything the man could use as a seat. Random objects around the area rattled, wiggled, and hopped about as her flailing magic bumped into them during her impulsive search.

"Oh, you-, you don't really have to," James said.

"No, no! I'm supposed to make sure you're comfortable!"

She was so overly excited that it didn't seem like she was really even processing anything her magic grabbed. Plates lifted and dropped, clapping against their tables. A snack bowl rattled, spilling a few treats before it landed. A few party favors came spinning out of the little tins which held them. Her magic was like an army of newborn puppies sniffing about not for any particular scent but because they had only just discovered that they had noses!

The man laughed, "Really, you don't. I'll manage."

Exhilarated, relieved, pleased, and overeager to the utmost limit, she responded, "No, I want you to be comfortable! Just-, just... give me a moment!"

She finally seemed to realize that the task of acquiring something chair-like for such an oddly-shaped creature would require some actual thinking, and she recollected her magic in her horn. After only a short moment of thought an answer came to her, and she beamed at her guest.

"I'm sure we've got some boxes that would be just right! Somewhere-... somewhere in the back." Her neck spun and pivoted so that she could stare at the stage, or more specifically, the large storage area which was hidden behind it. "It'll just be a minute or two! And then-, then-, then, you know, we could sit down comfortably and-, and... talk! About anything!"

Each of her blinks had her diamond eyes gleaming. Each of her words was a elated wink of her mouth. Each of her breaths came out with an accompanying throb her chest, gasping with more ready enthusiasm than could be found in a hundred lovers waiting for nightfall.

And it was all for his sake.

"Okay... Thank you...," he bowed his head and smiled.

"Alright!"

Prism stumbled as she threw herself away from the table.

"I'll be right back! This'll only be a minute! This'll-!"

She dashed away from him without even finishing, brusque by way of buzzing exuberance. She might as well have been drunk; she almost collided with several sitting ponies while maneuvering through the tables, too often blindly charging ahead while peeking back at the man in fast, glittering glances. Her luck held enough to carry her past all the obstructions, and then she quickly peeled around the stage and out of view, but not before offering one final sunny look back at James.

The man chuckled to himself. The laughs began in a place of amusement, but a slow change overtook them; deeper; softer. A warmth came up under his face and across his nose, and it wasn't from the alcohol. He scooped up his drink and guzzled some down so that he would at least have that as an excuse for how flushed his face was, and he lodged his sitting post back up his butt to get uncomfortable again.

Every day I'm up at dawn
Working through these lightless hours
In a life that makes me yawn
Not a scent to any flowers
No taste, no sight, no beauty here
Just this old world cold and plain
Mind is drowned in murky blear
I've seen enough! Let it wane!

Wake me up into a dream
I don't want to sleep anymore
There's something more that we mean
Something we've never known before

You come at first with a whisper
Calling me to a fantasy
Inside I can feel your kiss stir
A realer life entirely
What was the truth, now is wrong
And love before? A thin thread
You're all the words, and the song
This real illusion demanded

Wake me up, we'll share a dream
In a sleep so unlike before
Our bodies are more than they seem
There's something old we must restore

The music blended into the air, becoming a part of the melange which entered into James as he sat there. He listened, but he didn't listen. He watched the stage, but he wasn't watching. One finger rubbed the tip of his glass when he wasn't sipping from it, and when he did go for a taste he wasn't tasting anything.

Prism had a smile which really invited happiness right in.

Or was that only his imagination playing tricks with her politeness?

Her personality was just so giving, and it was clear that she was hoping for the same from him in return.

Or maybe he was reading too much into her role as a concierge of sorts.

And those legs! Good Lord! With that tail right up there?

But, then again, he had always had a thing the backsides of ladies.

And...

Maybe it WASN'T so weird to feel it for someone with all the same qualities as any lovely person, but they walked on four legs instead of two?

James rubbed his neck, then his forehead. Sweat was raining off of him, enough that after peeling his hands away he caught the smell of a wet jungle coming off of them. His damp outfit was stuck to him. The autumn clothes were really way, way too warm for a place like this.

But SHE really liked the way they looked a whole lot better than that summer garbage Rarity had put together. Really, it should have counted as paying back the seamstress's generosity just having had accepted that awful gift! It had also been quite generous of the man to have worn it and endured it as long as he had. How could Rarity have asked for anything more?

There was a warm, soppy chill that ran through him, and he felt a little disgusting all over. He took an even larger draw from his drink than usual. Only a thick puddle remained in the glass afterwards.

The clank of another glass onto the table snapped him to attention.

Twilight's magic had planted her drink while the unicorn herself pulled up a seat at his table (that is, she sat her tail down on the floor).

"Hey, Twilight," James greeted curiously, a little out of sorts from his pondering but in no way harmed by his friend's sudden appearance.

She didn't respond to him, except to throw a stare his way that had the oddest look of danger and... thrill? Like a gaze ahead, eyes widening, at the moment the roller coaster was about to gently crest into its first big drop.

In she breathed, then out. And then again, deliberately slower for good measure. She mounted a hoof onto the table to hold herself steady, but the hoof didn't sit calmly and she kept moving it about. The glass she had set down she twisted in place with her magic, wiggling it around only centimeters from its initial position, still trying to find the exactly perfect spot for it.

"Um... Twilight?" the man uttered.

She raised a hoof; a 'just a moment, please.' Then she only continued her little incessant acts of arranging herself.

It was stupefying to watch. Something was so very wrong. What made it most obvious was how each little adjustment was half as much as the one immediately prior. She was asymptotically approaching 'prepared' but never quite getting there. However, something was also very right. There was inquisitive energy which James plainly recognized. He had seen it in her a dozens of times before.

Finally she hit a point where she paused and sat half-frozen. Below steely, but above anxious, only her eyes moved about. Then, gently, her magic grabbed her drink and held it to her lips. She took in one last breath. All at once, glass, head, and neck tipped back. Far, far back.

She downed the whole thing in one go with several immense chugs.

The glass floated down onto the table again, drained so clean that it was dry. She wiped her mouth before she let the tension out of her body with a huge, relieving gasp.

"Alright," Twilight said. "I'm ready."

"... For what?" asked James.

"To talk about s-s-s-s-"

All of her preparation crumbled apart as soon as she hit that one word. She cut free her failed attempt, whipped her spine straight, and restarted more firmly.

"To talk about se-se-se-sss-"

Every fiber within her resisted her effort to speak it; every part of herself except for her curious mind rose up in revolt. Her teeth tried to dig themselves into her lips to hold her mouth shut, her tongue tried to lasso her own throat and crush it into silence, and her forehooves instinctively went for her chest to beat the air out of it. But she pressed on, straining even more to restart again.

"To talk about-... To talk about se-... To talk about se-se-se-...!"

A single spasm blasted through her, tip to tip, shocking every muscle into a tense state. Her body might have rather shut down than allowed her to have openly spoken something so forbidden.

But then, just as suddenly, she conquered the resistance. She rose above whatever was in her that was trying to steer her away.

Collected, in control, and immediately relaxed, she looked James right in the eyes.

"... To talk about... sex."

---

"Heeeeey, Applejack!"

"Howdy, Pinkie..."

The farm pony's grim hello didn't even include a look at her pink friend. Her eyes rested solely and sorely on another one of the ponies at the table.

And for her part, Rainbow Dash was just as leery.

"Hey, Applejack...," she said, cautiously and hanging a slow weight onto the greeting.

Hulahoof was quite enthused, however. The more, the merrier!

"Ho-ho-hey! Welcome to the par-tay table! I'm Hulahoof!" He stretched forward a wing in greeting which Applejack didn't bother shaking, to no ill effect on the happy pony's mood. "So, Applejack! Major-fantastic to meet you! You've got some great friends! Like happy-clouds-and-cheering-crowds great! We've just been having a blast with each other! Take a seat and join us!"

"Yeah!" Pinkie Pie enthusiastically agreed. "All the party ponies are at this table, AND EVERYPONY'S INVITED!" Her big grin was on a crane being thrown about like a wrecking ball.

"Kind of ya to invite," Applejack answered, still dark and still fixed on Rainbow Dash, "but I—"

"—Haven't eaten yet?" Hulahoof finished for her. He whirled a plate of fruity treats before the farm pony. "Have an apple snack, Applejack!"

"No, I—"

"—Came to play?"

He spilled out a few confusing-looking items from a glittery bag: rubber balls and plastic rings, some small but broad-mouthed cups, a bit of fishing wire tied to a porcelain fruit basket, and some other even less sensible playthings.

"We got some apple knacks!"

"Um... What? I—"

"—Need something more challenging?" He produced a piñata shaped and colored like himself but which depicted him as comically ill from overeating candy. He also pulled out a bat and blindfold. "Try and give it an apple whack!"

This time Applejack knew better than to respond, but the sheer insanity of what she was experiencing did finally break her icy gaze away from Rainbow Dash.

Seriously.

What the fig-eating hog bunk was wrong with this guy?

No more deterred than before, Hulahoof just kept on guessing:

He planted a tall wooden stand next to her, its pegs heavy with headwear, and he seized and tossed her hat up onto it.

"Need an apple rack?"

Next came an island tote bag, stylized with an image of the resort, which he dangled before her.

"Would you like a complimentary apple pack?"

He whipped out a pair of running shoes, laces tied together.

"Gotta race around the apple track?"

Then came a toothbrush.

"Here to take care of some apple plaque?"

Then from out of thin air he conjured a real, live shrunken animal no bigger than a hunk of fruit, tenderly setting the woolly creature down on the table.

"Care to pet my apple yak?"

At an apple lack for words, Applejack looked to her pink friend.

But Pinkie Pie was eagerly nodding along to everything the blue pegasus offered. He was her dear, adored, prized new pet that she was showing off to all of her friends, knowing in her heart of hearts that they would share the same wondrous delight for his antics that she did. She had only a massive smile for the farm pony, bright and bold and blissful, but goofy as heck.

And when Applejack turned back to take a look at Hulahoof (who was STILL presenting her with random nonsense), she saw the same goofy grin on him. Only somehow rendered worse.

She went back and forth between their nutty visages, like she was caught between a funhouse mirror and a funhouse mirror being reflected in ANOTHER funhouse mirror. There was her lively, endearing friend, and then there was a blue version of that, only more twistingly-lively and less... anything else.

Finally Applejack gasped aloud, "Well make me a tater and mash me up! I didn't think it were possible!"

"He's the best me I've ever met!" Pinkie Pie agreed. She could tell: Applejack was impressed.

Retrieving her hat and straightening it back on her head, the farm pony apologized, "Look, I ain't staying. I'm just here to talk to Rainbow, alright?"

Her brisk remark was at last enough to kill the blue pegasus' pep, though he remained cordial, if a very bright shade of glum. He began to scoop up his many scattered things, pausing only to give Applejack some small, understanding nods and a closed-lip smile.

But as soon as she was turned away from him he leaned deeply into Pinkie Pie and masked his mouth with his hoof, pushing loudly whispered words to the pink pony, "Guess she needs me to cut her some apple slack!"

It tickled Pinkie Pie, at least a little bit. Enough to lighten some of her worry as she eyed her two friends.

Rainbow Dash leaned back where she sat, resting herself with an utter nonchalance that was betrayed by her suspicious glare.

Applejack, no less chilly, leaned in and asked confidentially, "Maybe we could take this somewhere more private-like?"

"Why? What's this about?" the pegasus grunted. She offered back not one sign of yielding.

"Oh. Gonna be like that, huh?"

The farm pony glared hard, but then she peeked at the other table guests. The pink and blue ponies hadn't resumed all the comical banter and lighthearted tomfoolery that had distinguished their table since the beginning of the show. They at least tried to politely appear engaged in only themselves, but there was no question that they were monitoring closely the distraction before them.

But what did Applejack care?

"Fine," she stiffened her neck and said. "I can wrestle pigs in the mud pit, audience or no. It's no sweat off my flank."

After all, the source of the problem was Rainbow Dash, not herself. As the honest and forthright one she had nothing to be ashamed of.

"It's like this, Rainbow: you and I need to have a talk about the not-so-prime-like state of our friendship. Weren't my call to do it like this, but my mouth done made some promises that it has to cash, so let's just get it over with."

The pegasus put on a sour expression.

"Oh, so, is THAT was this is about?" she equipped herself with an incredible mix of hostile boredom. "YEAH, we need to have a talk."

Applejack grumbled, "Forgive me if I'm doubting you even know what I'm talking about."

And equally abrasive the reply came back, "Oh, I know what you're talking about. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

"Assuming we ARE talking about the same thing, you gonna be a grown enough pony to talk about it like adults do?"

"Well, I dunno. Are YOU going to put on your big filly bridle and get up early in the morning and eat your wheaties so YOU can win the race like a professional?"

"That don't even-!"

Applejack clenched her teeth and bashed her hoof into her temple. Pressing in hard, she smudged the hoof down her snout and off her nose.

"Alright, forget all the bickering! Let's just cut straight to the core: there's a problem with how we been getting along these past few weeks. Namely, we AIN'T been getting along! Can we agree on that much at least?"

Rainbow Dash sat up. She still had a warrior's grit. But...

"... Yeah," her answer softened. Ever so slightly.

"Well... good to hear."

That tiny little crack – that blinking little ray of an opening – was an immediate relief to the farm pony. All the walls gently came down, a quiet but happy sigh floated out of her, and she filled with the sweetness of an apple. She sat herself down next to the table, facing her friend while as pleasant as can be.

"It hasn't been real great," she said sympathetically. "It never is when we don't get along."

"... Yeah," Rainbow Dash said again, softer still. Her eyes rummaged around the floorboards for a moment before lifting, and she admitted, "... I've missed hanging out with you, you know?"

"Heh. Me too, Rainbow."

The farm pony wiggled her head in embarrassment. It all seemed so stupid now, looking back. Even if the competitive kick which had gotten into Rainbow Dash had been so much stronger than usual, the pegasus had always been a tight friend. That friendship wouldn't have really meant much if such a little disagreement had been the straw to have broken the pony's back. There was no good reason Applejack shouldn't have tried simply talking to her friend honestly in the first place!

"It really feels like it's been weeks since we've done anything together," Rainbow Dash said.

"It has been," answered Applejack.

"Yeah, wow," the pegasus marveled. She seemed equally ashamed, something weighing her down. But at the same time she had enough awareness to crack a sad, silly smile. "That bites."

"Sure does."

"Like, hard."

"Like a hungry gator hankerin' for a handout."

"Yeah. That."

"Yup."

"..."

"..."

"So..."

"So...?"

"So... like...," Rainbow Dash carefully offered a hoof, almost as a test, "... friends?"

"Haha, of course!" the farm pony pounded the available hoof. "But we've ALWAYS been friends, fly-brain! Just takes a little doing to steer the friendship back onto course when the wind drifts."

Rainbow Dash blew an entertained snort, considered her friend for a moment, and then, in an uncharacteristic move (and almost in a magnanimous way), invited Applejack to bring herself in for a hug.

Gladly she did, and they fast grabbed each other, bopping their chests and slapping their backs once.

Victory horns blared as they pulled apart, provided in sudden surprise by the table audience. The two party ponies now had flashy party hats sitting over their manes and party horns with paper tubes blowing out of their mouths, and they were going more than a little crazy with their cranky party horns. And that was before they pelted the forgiving friends with blasts of confetti.

"Yeah, yeah," Applejack worked out a pleased laugh. She had to take off her hat and really give it a good, hard whip to get it clean, casting away a colorful rainfall of paper.

With a hefty shake of her body and one strong beat of her wings, Rainbow Dash was able to throw off all of her confetti in a spray.

"Hehe, awesome! I'm so glad that's finally over!" she said.

"Me too!" the farm pony agreed heartily. "All much ado about nothing, and it was putting a mighty damper on this here vacation!"

"Yeah, you said it! But everything can go back to being totally sweet now that you've finally apologized!"

"Ah, well, it'll be good to—"

Applejack froze and blinked.

"—Say what now?"

"You've been acting like a complete flank-face all this time," Rainbow Dash calmly explained, "and I couldn't figure out why. So I'm just relieved that you finally ponied up and apologized about being such a dumb jerk over everything for so long."

"Oh," Applejack intoned quite gratingly, "is THAT all?"

The pegasus nodded as if it were the most plain and obvious thing in the world.

"Yeah. You can definitely get a little crabby sometimes, but somepony must've really spun the dial up to one hundred and eleven cause you've been a real beach these past weeks! Glad to have you back to normal, AJ!"

Even over the thumping screams of the stage speakers the gnawing of the farm pony's teeth could be heard. She ground them down more finely than any block of wood she had ever sanded smooth. But she kept her cool; her bubbling-hot, boiling-over-the-edge cool.

"I'm sure what you meant to say," she squeezed out of her snarling mouth, "is that WE'VE BOTH made some mistakes communicatin', and YOU'RE sorry for YOUR part."

"Me? What?" laughed Rainbow Dash. It was a big laugh too, sprouting up from deep in her belly; the kind normally reserved for Pinkie Pie's hilarious antics.

"Yes, you!" snapped Applejack.

There finally was a serious turn in the pegasus' expression. But it wasn't a sorry turn.

"What did I do?"

"Ya been acting like a small-feathered hen who got something to prove to her brood, that's what! Always picking fights and lookin' to tussle! And you certainly got a lot of nerve to pretend like it's all my fault when you've been the real fine jerk through everything!"

"Real nice, Applejack! Calling ME a jerk just because I called YOU one first!"

"You're a stubborn mule is what you are!"

"I know you are but what am I?!"

Pinkie Pie's elongated body reached all the way over the table, almost stretching herself between the two bickering friends. Again and again she blew into her party horn, so much more rapidly than before. The paper tube was shooting out faster than a jackhammer as the pink pony desperately tried to fill the air with the happiest honks her little horn could muster.

'It's a party, ha ha ha!' 'We're having fun! Yaaay!' 'We're definitely not arguing right now! Whee!'

But despite the tube unfurling again and again between their battling gazes, the two ponies didn't blink as they continued to verbally wrestle with each other.

"Oh, so we gotta turn this little set-to into another official Rainbow-Dash-goes-for-the-gold contest, huh?!"

"What the hay! First off: YOU'RE the one acting all Rarity-on-a-bad-day-without-her-makeup! Second: I could TOTALLY beat you in ANY argument, muzzled AND with both wings tied behind my back!"

"A muzzle, huh?! Good idea! Gimme a spell and I'll find one! Then we can shut you up for good!"

"Yeah, let's talk about shutting up! How about you shut up with saying this is my fault?! You know, I kept TRYING to hang with you, but YOU were the one always stomping off, or PRETENDING you had other things to do, or LYING about needing to be somewhere else!"

That particular charge got deep under Applejack's skin. She activated her hat; the back-half nudged skywards like a scorpion's stinger going up, and the front-half pushed her brow down into furious folds.

"Now you listen here, you cantankerous canary! It's one thing to be a right pain in the rear end but it's a whole 'nother bushel of apples to impugn my honesty! You take it back this instant or so help me I'll show you why Big Mac leaves the biggest apple trees to me come bucking season!"

Rainbow Dash waggled her hoof in the air, simulating a prattling mouth, and she spoke in a low, squeaky, mock voice, "Look at me! I'm Applejack! I say that my friend starts everything but here I am challenging her to a wrestling match! Which I'd totally lose, by the way!"

"You-!!"

Applejack was ready to pop. Her hat would shoot into the night sky from the top of her head exploding in a column of steam. Gouts of boiling blood would spurt from the corners of her eyeballs. Her hooves would blast right off, and the streams of crackling fire burning out from the holes left behind would rocket her straight into her friend so that she could knock that infuriating infant of a pony into orbit.

And then suddenly it was like a rock appeared in the road and knocked her speeding wheels off course, guiding her wagon off the trail. Her anger hit a limit it couldn't pass, and instead it was somehow redirected away. She sizzled. She growled. Her whole body prickled with rage.

But she didn't burst.

"FINE!" she hollered, turning aside. "Keep acting like a flat-brained filly for all I care! Enjoy your vacation... just leave me the heck out of it!"

And she went, landing each beat of her harsh trot with an especially hard clop.

"Thanks for the advice!" Rainbow Dash shouted after her sarcastically. Then the pegasus smashed her forelegs onto the table, knocking a few party favors off with the jump it caused, and she grumbled to herself sternly while turning her scowl away from Pinkie Pie and Hulahoof.

The pink pony's party horn gave its last, dying tweet. The flittering cry fizzled out into silence as the stiff paper tube, bobbing lightly out from her mouth, slowly went limp. It flopped down against her chest and hung there for a moment before it curled back up in shame.

"Welcome back!" Till greeted Applejack. His face was still stamped with the same friendly but smarmy look he had worn when she had left. As promised, he had a fresh glass of cider waiting at her stool. "So, patched everything up with your-"

The thunderstorm crashed right up to the bar, parked itself on the stool, and guzzled down the entire glass of cider in one go, nearly smashing the glass back into the bartop.

"Erm," the startled bartender dropped all his goofy tomfoolery and pulled back slightly. "Is... everything alright?"

Applejack hoarsely muttered something down into her empty glass. Whatever it had been, if Till had even heard it, was too encrypted by the vulgarest of countryisms to have been intelligible to the uninitiated.

The bartender tenderly tried to pry into her again, "Did things not go well?"

"What was your first clue?" the farm pony brought up an impolite glare and remarked.

Aghast for a moment, Till turned sorrowful and bowed himself low over the counter.

"I'm really sorry, Applejack," he pleaded earnestly. "I didn't mean for-... I mean, when I suggested that you smooth things out with your friend, I know I was acting sort of, well, ridiculous, but I was serious about clearing up-... I didn't think that things were so-"

"Ain't your fault, Brown Sugar...," she answered, picking herself up some out of her grisly funk. "You don't know Rainbow like I do. You couldn'ta seen this coming."

"But-"

"No," the farm pony firmly but stiffly shut him down.

His woundedness had her feeling genuine remorse, and it was enough for her to prop herself up and keep a lid on her nastier feelings. She sighed and took off her hat, laying it again on the bartop.

"You were right, sayin' that we should straighten everything out," she assured him. "That's real friendship advice you can tie to; I'm sure Twilight'd tell me the same. But Rainbow's still got her head too deep up her own tail to see the spots on a checkered cow. I shoulda figured trying to break through to her wouldn'ta worked. I was right to keep my distance and let her sweat it out."

Again she sighed, and again she inspected her empty glass. She pushed it over to Till, nodding towards it.

Diligently he filled it back up, and when he returned it to her he asked gently, "Are you going to be alright?"

She took the drink and immediately gave it a hard guzzle before she responded.

"Yeah. Course." The farm pony was bland. And dismal. "She'll get over herself. Eventually."

All was quiet at the bar for a brief time while Applejack went at a few more sips and the bartender waited patiently. Nosedive, still sitting on the farthest stool and nursing his own drink, remained entirely invisible to them.

"You know who's fault this really is?" Applejack spoke up at Till.

She was venting. The heat inside was still too much to be cooled by the cider alone, and she spoke just to blow out all of the hot air which lingered in her head.

"Beanstalk." She rapped the bartop, lightly hammering her blind accusation in. "Boy rolls right over for her! Anything she wants: 'Sure! Let me just go belly-up for ya!' Never has the gumption to tell her no! And all cause he smiles and eats anything she dishes up, it's got her thinking she can act that way with everypony! Or at least, certainly it don't help her rein in her natural inclination towards thinking herself the center of the dang universe."

Another deep guzzle, and her drink was finished again.

"Ain't a wonder she gets along with HIM fine as apple gravy."

Nosedive perked up. Fidgeting with thought for a few seconds, he then pushed his unfinished drink aside, got off his stool, and flew away quietly.

He didn't escape unnoticed. Till went to say something – to catch him before he departed – but Applejack called to the bartender first.

"How 'bout another one?" she tapped her empty glass.

"Uh..."

He looked back, and Nosedive was already gone.

"... Sure," he decided. "Right away."

Giving the farm pony another frothy mug of cider, he let her nip at it some more before he finally (though quite hesitantly) suggested, "If this... tall friend of yours is part of the issue, maybe you should talk to him about it instead?"

"Ehhh...," Applejack gave an unenthusiastic, uncertain sigh.

She pondered, sipping some more, but ultimately frowned upon the idea. After all, she really had only been blowing steam.

"Nah," she decided glumly, "Beanstalk is more or less a stand-up guy. He ain't doing nothing that isn't himself, and he's definitely not trying to be any trouble to nopony. It wasn't right of me to pin it all on him like that."

"But... if he knew how you felt, wouldn't he at least help?"

"I... reckon he would," was Applejack's stilted admission, but she still shook her head. "He's... got some problems of his own, though; don't need to load him up with this, or make one of his good friendships any harder."

She twisted her glass of cider in place and thought to raise it up for another go, but she was finally beginning to hear the complaints of her drowning stomach. Without a rest, before long it would be her bladder begging for mercy.

Choosing to wash herself of the whole affair, at least for now, she dismissed, "Really, Rainbow's the center of the whole kit and caboodle. I gotta wait on her. She's just a pill sometimes. And I was never very good at taking my pills."

Stumbling upon the way out just like that, she smiled simply and storied herself away, "In fact, when I was littler, Granny Smith always had to turn up ways to trick me into taking my medicine. Whether it was hiding it in the applesauce or telling me it was candy, she got me good every time. And no matter how much I'd figure her out she'd always just come up with something new. Course, that was all when she wasn't just right fed up to here with me; then the funnel came out and we did things the hard way..."

On and on she went, spinning her yarn.

And Till, legs folded and leaned on the counter, listened and enjoyed it. Only in odd but irrepressible flashes was he occasionally distracted with thoughts for Nosedive, or the shaky friendship between the farm pony and Rainbow Dash, and how unhappy they all were with the state of things.

Comments

[Danger Noodle]

Keep writing so we can keep reading.

[paladinwolf]

Just caught up, and enjoying the slice of life mixed with undertones of something sinister. Hope the next installment has Twilights explanation. Kinda dying to understand why sex is so taboo to ponies.

[Zurock]

7715886
Next chapter is the "James and Twilight discuss sex" chapter.

[Truthseeker]

Finally got around to reading more. This was a very good chapter. Moving on to the next one.