> When They Found Common Ground
>  by Craine
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Act One
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn’t spying. Not really.

Spying involves breaking and entering. Spying involves sifting through one’s personal information with which the spy had no business. In no way was staring through an uncovered window, watching the two unsuspecting ponies behind that window, considered spying.

Now, if Twilight Sparkle actually believed that, she’d feel a little better about it. Maybe.

The whole thing was ridiculous. More than once, Twilight questioned why she’d allowed the pink pony beside her to talk her into this. More over, and perhaps more shamefully, Twilight questioned why she couldn’t look away, or what exactly she was looking for.

Especially since she knew the answers to all those questions.

“You see that, Twilight?” Pinkie Pie asked, spying, no, observing her two friends from outside Carousel Boutique. “What’d I tell you? Totally in love!”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “I see Rarity ranting and pacing, and Applejack just standing there,” she said.

Pinkie nodded feverishly. “Uh-huh! And just look at the smile on AJ’s face! I bet she can’t stop thinking about how adorable Rarity is when she’s mad!”

Twilight slowly turned a disinterested stare toward her friend. “Pinkie, AJ always smiles at that. We all smile at that,” she said.

Pinkie sharply turned to the alicorn. “Pfft! Duh! Of course we do, silly. But just… Well, just look at them!”

Twilight did just that with a flat stare. Indeed, Applejack was smiling at a steaming-mad Rarity, who was, indeed, pacing wildly around her workroom with red cheeks. If memory served, these were normally bad signs.

“I mean, come on, Twilight! Of all ponies Rarity could’ve asked to help with her new fashion line, she chose Applejack. Applejack! A pony who couldn’t care less about snooty-patooty dresses! That has to tell you something, right?!”

A deep-seeded stubbornness churned within Twilight. The same stubbornness thought to be dealt with after her first ‘Pinkie Sense’ fiasco. The same stubbornness that growled deeply at evidence that disagreed with her preconceptions.

And that very same evidence was there. Controvertible, but there. Applejack visiting Rarity’s Boutique day after day. The stormy shouting fit Rarity would display before throwing Applejack out of her shop. The fact Applejack always came back, and that Rarity always let her?

“Oh, it tells me something, alright.” Twilight dropped her hooves from the window sill. “It tells me Rarity’s in a tight spot and Applejack is being a good friend. It tells me Rarity is frustrated and doesn’t know how to handle it. That even if Rarity’s old clothing designs are ‘out of style’, and her finances are suffering for it, Applejack is there for her. Just like the rest of us.”

Pinkie turned completely to Twilight, standing on her hind legs. “Exactly! ‘Just like the rest of us!’ But Rarity doesn’t ask if ‘the rest of us’ have plans every afternoon! Rarity doesn’t ask ‘the rest of us’ to help with something we know jack diddly squat about!” Pinkie declared.

Twilight considered her friend with a lifted brow and a hoof to her chin. “Well… That does seem a little odd.”

“Odd and totally romantic!” Pinkie leaped off her hind hooves and crashed back-first into the grass, rolling and swooning like a gossipy school-filly. “They’re perfect for each other!”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Oh, Pinkie, you’re jumping to conclusions. Rarity must’ve chosen Applejack because of that whole ‘Cutie-mark mishap’,” she said. “Yeah. She needed somepony close to her that knew a thing or two about fashion—”

In that instant, Twilight’s entire world was swallowed by bright pink and blinding blue eyes.

“Are we on the same planet?!” Pinkie screeched. “Those dresses AJ made were… Even I wouldn’t wear those things, Twilight!”

For a moment, Twilight recalled boxes, gift wrap, flippers and snorkels worn in public. But Twilight decided, for the sake of digression, not to point out Pinkie’s fashion sense.

“Besides, “Twilight continued, undeterred, “AJ gives terrific advice. I bet that’s why Rarity always asks for her help.”

Pinkie settled back on all fours. “But, Twilight, you give terrific advice!” she protested.

Twilight turned away from Carousel Boutique. “Yes, but you don’t see me knitting dresses in my free time,” she said.

Pinkie crumbled to the ground on her belly, squeezing her arms around one of Twilight’s hind legs. “But… But!”

“I’m sorry, Pinkie,” Twilight limped away, dragging the sniveling earth pony with her, “but no matter how this looks, AJ and Rarity are, and always have been, in a platonic relationship.”

Pinkie squeezed tighter. “I don’t know what that is, but it sure as hay doesn’t sound romantic!”

Just as Twilight’s horn glowed, ready to tear Pinkie away from her, a door slammed open, followed by the throaty laughter of Ponyville’s very own apple farmer, Applejack. Rarity’s sharp tone quickly followed. Before Twilight could even register her own actions, she found herself hiding behind the Boutique’s corner, along with Pinkie Pie.

Twilight ignored the pit in her gut, and the voice in her head that compared her to the dirt she walked on. It was right to ignore that voice. Because it wasn’t spying. Not really.

“That’s right! Get out, and stay out!” Rarity shouted. “You’ve got some nerve, you know that?! Coming into my home, insulting my dresses! You… you dusty old thing, you!”

Applejack simply walked ahead, wearing the same confident smile that reddened the unicorn’s face. “Well, it was right swell to see you too, Rarity. Considerin’…”

Rarity leaped to the foot of her door, and a single strand of her mane came undone. “Oh, don’t try to make me the bad pony, Applejack! Trying on those dresses was your idea! Making those dresses was your idea!”

Applejack walked onward and laughed. “It sure was, Sugarcube. It sure was.”

Rarity shook. She shook so much, one disheveled strand of mane became many. Then, as though it had never happened, Rarity’s face fell with exhaustion and defeat, staring at the retreating farmer with a half-lidded glare.

Rarity eyes flapped wide open and she gasped. “You are coming by tomorrow afternoon, aren’t you Applejack?” Whether she realized it or not, Rarity sounded desperate. Almost pathetic, really.

Applejack turned back and tipped her brown hat, her smile infinitely more genuine. “Same time as always,” she said just loud enough to be heard.

Rarity released a breath she may or may not have known she held and smiled. “Oh… Oh, thank you.” Rarity shook her head and scrunched her brows together. “Uh, er, see to it that you’re punctual next time! Canterlot clients wait for nopony!”

Applejack didn’t respond that time. To far away, perhaps. But Rarity stayed her hoof and watched until the farmer disappeared into town.

“And stop smiling, blast it…” the unicorn muttered.

Rarity was no longer upset. That much was obvious, but her face was still red, a deeper shade than before. And to two shameless spies, that red was there for an entirely different reason. Rarity retreated back inside, and the moment the door shut, Pinkie cheered and did cartwheels on the grass. And Twilight?

Twilight just sat there behind that corner, staring ahead with her jaw hanging open. “What just…? I don’t even… Did they just…?”

A pair of pink hooves clamped Twilight’s cheeks, and her head was turned toward a smile much, much too wide.

“Totally! In! Love!” Pinkie said.

Twilight sputtered, but broke away from Pinkie’s grip. “Uh, d-don’t be ridiculous, Pinkie. Rarity just… I mean, Applejack is… Well, uh…”

Twilight’s eyes fell blank, and every reason to disagree with Pinkie crumbled like a building without support beams.

Pinkie stepped closer. “We’ve got to help them, Twilight!” she declared.

“Come again?” Twilight asked flatly.

Pinkie squealed and leaped on Twilight’s back, ignoring the yelp and buckled knees. “Isn’t it obvious?! No big hug? No smooch goodbye? Not even a quick nuzzle?! These ponies are so in love, they can’t even show it!”

“Ngh! Pinkie What are you—”

“Think about it, Twilight! Rarity’s practically galloped all over Equestria looking for her rock! You know, her knight in shining armor? And finally—finally—her prayers have been answered!” Pinkie cheered.

Twilight knees buckled. “But Applejack is—”

“Totally her knight! And her rock! She came to the rescue when Rarity needed somepony the most! And we’re gonna make them see that!”

“But—”

“Though, I probably shouldn’t talk to Rarity about this sort of thing. She always starts talking about ‘romance novels’ I’ve never read. But Applejack? Now that’s a mare I can convince! We get each other, you know?”

“Guh! Pinkie, if you could just sit down for a moment and think—”

Pinkie sat on Twilight’s back, and those knees buckled again. “Hmm… I’m sure Rarity isn’t too flustered for another visit, Twilight! Hint-hint, wink-wink, nudge-nudge!”

Twilight’s knees buckled more. “Pinkie! I really, really don’t like where you’re going with—”She finally collapsed, entangled in a pony heap. “You’re not going to let this go… Are you?” she said.

“Applejack and Rarity: Couple Extraordinaire! Love is in the air, Twilight!” Pinkie scrambled to her hooves and lifted a glaring Twilight to her own. “Can you smell it?!”

“No, does it smell like a restraining order?” Twilight grumbled.

“Nah. More like sugar and oats. Onward!”

And with that, Pinkie zipped off into a direction that made Twilight pray for Applejack’s sake. She lifted herself up and grumbled how ridiculous the pink pony’s assertions were. ‘Totally in love’... Impossible.

But that display from earlier…

“Ah! Confound that pony!” Twilight said with hooves to her temples.

The door to Carousel Boutique flew open, and Twilight instinctively hid behind the corner. Rarity emerged with a brisk trot, heading in a direction that reminded Twilight of her last hooficure.

“Going to need double spa-time after today,” Rarity said to herself.

And as much as Twilight wanted to shove her own head in wet concrete for thinking it, more than one opportunity presented itself. But Twilight took the opportunity that mattered, the one that shined her coat and styled her mane.

And perhaps, maybe, possibly, she’d ask Rarity a few questions.


**********


It wasn’t deception. Not really.

Deception preys on a pony’s gullibility for personal gain. Deception is the wool pulled over the eyes, the dagger sharpened behind the back, the prowler cloaked in the dead of night, eyeing the expensive house and all the goods inside.

Twilight Sparkle liked to think she was above deception.

It was a simple spa date and nothing more. Though she rarely visited, Twilight did appreciate a little treat here and there. For those weeks when her coat needed an extra gloss, or when her hooves needed an extra shine, Twilight joined Rarity for a spa trip.

Yes, wearing the spa robe felt like grime on her flesh. Yes, it was a little harder than usual to relax the muscles kneaded by a frustrated masseuse. Yes, convincing herself that she wasn’t there to get a confession out of Rarity was killing her slowly.

But that was fine. Perfectly fine. Because Twilight was there for herself and, in no way, was there under Pinkie’s volition. Of course, Twilight was much more convincing before she’d asked the million-bit question.

Rarity shot her fellow unicorn a suspicious glare, and for the third time, the hot steam room felt just a little too hot, and a little too steamy for Twilight.

“That’s very odd of you to ask, Twilight,” Rarity said, her glare receding a bit. “I thought it was quite clear why Applejack is helping me.”

Twilight adjusted the towel wrapped around her mane and shifted where she lay, almost believing the steam would solder her coat to the bench. “Oh, o-of course! I know that. I-I mean she is the most dependable pony in Ponyville. Haven’t forgotten. Nope, not me!” Even as it appeared, Twilight wished she could erase her ridiculous smile.

Rarity’s stern look softened with concern. “Twilight? Are you alright, darling? Is it getting too steamy in here?” she asked.

“What? Why?!” Twilight shot a hoof to her lips. “I mean, why do you ask?”

Rarity furrowed her brow. “You’ve been acting peculiar ever since you accompanied me this evening. And believe me; these days I’m more than acquainted with stress but…” Rarity’s face softened again. “Is everything well, dear? Your royal duties aren’t getting to you again, are they?”

Twilight’s crooked smile dropped, and her wings twitched all on their own. She stared down at the feathery limbs as though it were the first time.

“Oh no. Not at all. In fact,” Twilight gave a thoughtful pause, “I’m relieved Princess Celestia gave me the option to stay in Ponyville.”

“I’m sure, darling, “Rarity said with a breezy smile. “As are the rest of us.”

‘The rest of us’. For reasons she wished weren’t so obvious, Twilight mentally cursed a certain pink mare. Loudly. So loudly, she couldn’t help but frown. Rarity saw that frown and pouted.

“Oh. Was it something I said?” 

Rarity’s ill tone threw Twilight from her muse. “What? No, no. Just… thinking is all,” she said.

Indeed, Twilight was thinking. And if Twilight didn’t make the most from this spa visit, if she didn’t get exactly what she came for, she’d be thinking about it for a very, very long time. A distraction is what it would be. Reading would be a chore. Friendship reports would be sloppy and unrefined.

That, and she’d never hear the end of it from Pinkie.

Not that Twilight was there because of Pinkie or her crazy plan, and neglected to tell Rarity. Of course not. That would be deceptive. Twilight Sparkle was not deceptive.

“We’re worried about you Rarity,” Twilight said, now oblivious to the steam that slicked her coat. “I suspect Applejack even more so.”

And there it was again: that suspicious glare. For some inexplicable reason, Twilight’s doubts and fears melted with the steam, and she returned Rarity’s glare with a solid poker face.

“You should be proud to have her, you know,” Twilight said.

Yet again, Rarity’s glare receded, this time succumbing to a tiny smile and averted eyes. “She has helped me more than I’ve credited her,” she said.

“Uh-huh?” Twilight’s lip twitched at the eagerness in her own voice.

Rarity didn’t seem to notice, and instead lifted her nose with a huff. “Doesn’t give her an excuse to visit me all dirty and sweaty, though. I swear she does it on purpose these days.”

“Oh?” Twilight’s lips twitched again, this time resisting a smile.

“Filthy pony,” Rarity said, frowning and tapping her hoof on tile. “Tracking mud on my carpet. She knows I can’t afford a new one!”

Twilight smiled, and before she could gauge the consequences of her actions, she said, “Could’ve fooled me. You know, since you could afford a spa trip.”

Rarity gawked at her smirking friend, but again averted her eyes and blushed. “Well she… she did offer to pay for it. And I’ve worked so hard today, I couldn’t possibly decline,” she said.

Honestly, Twilight had suspected as much, yet her eyes beamed as bright as the sun. “Wow. That’s awful generous of her—”

“But that still gave her no right to insult my dresses!” Rarity snapped. “Brutish, inconsiderate… They may not be ‘in’ these days, but… Oh, what does she know anyway?!”

Twilight pressed her hooves down to keep from scraping them together. And suddenly, despite the steam billowing into the room, Twilight’s lips dried out.

“If memory serves, she did inspire a new style in Canterlot,” Twilight said, resisting a lick of her lips. “'Country Charm’, I think it was.”

Rarity frowned. “Yes, but it was my design from the start! Curse that Hoity Toity and his ridiculous love for rustic class. Curse him, I say!”

Twilight’s ear flicked at the new piece of information. “Hoity Toity? The fashion representative in Canterlot?”

Rarity gave her friend a look. “I’ve never told you?” she asked. Twilight shook her head and Rarity sighed. “Of course. I imagine you were off on royal business at the time.”

Twilight brought a hoof to her lips, a worried look on her face. “O-oh. I don’t want to ruin your spa-time. Let’s change the subject.” she said.

“If, um… if it wouldn’t be terribly demanding of me, yes we should. Speaking of that day still ruffles the fur.”

Like a mouse in a trap.

“You don’t say. And here I thought only Applejack could do that,” Twilight said.

Beyond all logic, despite being soaked from steam and sweat, Rarity’s fur ruffled. “Oh, don’t get me started. I’ve grown weary of that dirty mare and her stupid little smirk. I amaze myself with what I put up with, you know,” she replied.

By now Twilight’s lip had loosened, and she was too late to acknowledge it. “I hadn’t noticed. What with her visiting you every day.”

Twilight’s breath caught in her throat, and she received the brunt of another suspicious glare. Twenty times more suspicious, and a hundred times glarier.

“What exactly are you implying, Twilight?” Rarity iced her glare with a squint.

At that moment, Twilight finally remembered she was in a steam room, and remembered how hard it was to breath in that steam room.

 “What? N-nothing, it’s just… Well, you two have spent a great deal of time together. I figured she’d have grown on you,” Twilight said.

Rarity squinted harder. “Grown on me, how, Twilight?” she asked.

If Twilight listened through the hiss of steam, she might’ve heard Rarity grit her teeth. “Hmm, no way in particular. Just the usual—hah, hah, hah. Hah.”

“The ‘usual’, darling?”

By now, Twilight hoped and prayed that the steam caused the warmth in her cheeks. Because, in no way, was Twilight allowed to blush right then. The timing was too unfair.

“Are… are you two...?”

“We most certainly are not!” Rarity shot to her hooves, tensing her legs to keep steady on slippery tile. “Is that why you’re here?! To accuse me of—Heaven forbid—fraternizing?!”

Twilight stood as well. “Wait Rarity! I-I’m sorry! I wasn’t accusing you! Well, I didn’t mean to accuse you, but—no, what I mean is…”

Rarity released a long and heavy breath. “No. It’s… quite alright, Twilight,” she said. “I can see how one would assume such, eh… things. And I’ve heard ponies talk. Small town, and all that. But I assure you, friendship is the most of it.”

Twilight smiled a tiny smile, unsure whether to accept Rarity’s confidence, or shrink away from it. More so when Rarity chuckled.

“Celestia knows it wouldn’t work anyway,” Rarity began with a turn toward the foggy glass door. “We’re much too different. I’ve read about oddball couples in many novels, but this? She and I? The farmer and the fashionista? Preposterous.”

Rarity pushed through the door, exhausting clouds of steam, and Twilight followed.

“I mean, really. As it stands, that mare has only an inkling of fashion ever since walking a mile in my horseshoes. Even if she does bring new perspective to the table, it’s just not her calling. She belongs on her farm, with her family,” Rarity said.

The unicorns were escorted to the hot tub to soak all the sweat from their coats.

“Oh sure, she’s a wonderful consultant for all things ‘country’, and her ideas have put my Boutique back on the radar, but…”

Twilight sank limply into the hot cleansing water, staring at Rarity intently. “But?” she pried.

Rarity slapped her hooves into the water. “But she’s just so messy! And rude! She teases me all the time, she doesn’t take anything seriously, she has a stupid little quip for everything, she doesn’t respect my creativity, and she thinks I like it when she soils my Boutique with her rugged hooves, and her sweaty coat, and her thick muscles, and—is this water hotter than usual?”

Twilight smiled.

She could’ve answered Rarity. She could’ve very well agreed that ‘hot water’ put the red on Rarity’s face. But that wouldn’t be fair. That would be deceptive. And Twilight was anything but.

Pinkie Pie was going to love this.


**********


It wasn’t boorishness. Not really—

“When are you putting the ring on her hoof?!”

“What in tarnation?!”

…

…

It was boorishness. Undeniable, shameless, self-absorbed boorishness. Pinkie Pie didn’t seem to care in the least. It was a simple honest question, shouted with such brevity and finesse, Applejack should’ve been proud. Or, at least as proud as somepony on the verge of a stroke.

“Good gravy, girl!” Applejack shouted. “Y’all scared the dog mess outta me!”

That was far from a lie, having narrowly avoided a tumble down the stairs of her apple cellar. Applejack hastily shut the cellar-doors and turned to her unexpected guest.

“What’s the big deal anyw—”

Pinkie took Applejack’s face in her hooves. “Oh, Applejack, you don’t have to hide it from me!” Pinkie chirped. “That’s why Auntie Pinkie Pie is here! To put that frazzled totally-in-love mind at ease!”

“Totally in…” Applejack jerked out of Pinkie’s grip and glared. “Hold on a se—”

Pinkie latched an arm around her friend’s neck. “It must be stressful, being so in love with a pony you can’t even see straight. But it always helps to talk about it!” Pinkie said.

“Now wait just a hay-pickin’ minu—”

Pinkie pressed her nose against Applejack’s. “So tell me the story, Applejack! Tell me how you and Rarity found each other after all this time! Tell me how you two hit it off like the furious hot-blooded mares you are!”

Applejack pushed Pinkie away, holding her at leg’s-reach. “Me and who, now?! Pinkie, what the—”

“Better idea! You can tell me why you haven’t tackled her down, bent her over a table and—”

“Pinkamena. Diane. Pie.”

And just like that, Pinkie’s ears fell flat by her head, her sentence falling dead on her tongue, and her eyes helplessly trapped by the farmer’s glare.

“Sit.” Applejack commanded.

Pinkie’s rump hit the dirt with a dusty *plop*

“Now…” Applejack locked the cellar door and turned toward her fellow earth pony. “What’s all this about me and Rarity?”

For an impossibly long moment, Applejack held the crumbling hope that Pinkie wouldn’t answer her. Instead, Pinkie grew excited again.

“Has a nice ring to it, huh?” Pinkie said, her ears pointing up again. “'Applejack and Rarity'. Great catch, girlfriend!”

“Of all the… Now why in the world would you think we’d—” Applejack’s eyes halved with a contemplative glare. “Ah.”

Pinkie, significantly calmer than she would have, sprung back to her hooves and grinned. “I told you, you don’t have to hide it from me!” she said.

Applejack hung her head and sighed. All too soon, the effects of laborious hours tumbled down on Applejack like a thousand bricks, and she walked toward the farmhouse with a bouncing Pinkie Pie on tow.

“I think it’s romantic how hopelessly in love you two are! Why, I bet Rarity’s pacing in her Boutique right now, racking her brains on how to charm you! Not that she hasn’t already, ‘cause, like, how could you not be charmed, being invited to her place every afternoon! Helping her out with her clothes, giving her advice, fitting for her, staring at her lips—”

“We’re not in love, Pinkie.”

“Ooh! Have you gone on a date yet? ‘Cause I know this sweet little place in Manehatten—you know, when you get passed all the stalkers, and mobs, and—wait… What?”

She could hear it. Even as she walked away from it, trying with all her might not to look back, Applejack could hear something break in Pinkie’s voice. Pinkie stopped bouncing, and against everything that demanded she leave the party animal behind, Applejack stopped walking.

Then, Applejack made her biggest mistake and turned to her friend.

“We’re not in love,” Applejack repeated.

The curls in Pinkie’s mane sagged like flowers in a rain storm, and Applejack winced. “What… what do you mean? I don’t…”

Of course Applejack had to spell it out. “Rarity and I are friends, Pinkie. That’s it,” she said as sternly as she could muster. “Yeah, we’ve spent a lotta time together, but, heck, all of Ponyville knows why.”

Pinkie’s ears shot up again. “Exactly! And out of every pony Rarity could ask—”An orange hoof pressed against Pinkie’s lips.

“Pinkie, you know why she asked for my help, “Applejack said, her sternness held strong. “After that Hoity Toity fella saw the Grand Galloping Gala dress Rarity made for me, every highfalutin pony from Canterlot to Trottingham had ‘Country’ on the brain. For a while. If he hadn’t shown up at her doorstep, I’d be the last pony she’d ask.”

Pinkie sprung to her hooves again, her eyes glimmering with defiance. “That’s not true, Applejack! There are plenty of country ponies with good taste! I’d bet my favorite hairbrush Rarity never even looked in their direction!”

Between the vein beating behind her forehead, and the thought of Pinkie Pie actually using a hairbrush, Applejack realized just how tired she really was. She turned away from the insistent party mare and walked.

And, of course, Pinkie followed.

“Look, Pinkie,” Applejack began with a sharper tone, “I don’t know why you’re so set on this—and I’m downright scared to find out—but ya heard it straight from the horse’s mouth; Rarity and I are friends.”

Applejack’s tone brokered no argument whatsoever. It was a solid well-patented skill the farmer was proud of, a polished gavel that adjourned any discussion, and gave ponies the undeniable hint.

“But you can’t be!” Pinkie screeched with wavy hooves.

Applejack sighed.

“What about all the time you two spend together?!”

“A necessary evil.” Applejack winced the second she said that. That wasn’t true. Not really. Not entirely. “I mean… I do need to be there to help her, ya know.”

“Oh, gimme a break! I’ve seen the way you look at her!” Pinkie continued. “And don’t get me started on that smile of yours!”

Applejack walked faster, all but denying the heat in her cheeks. “You know how fun it is to mess with that mare,” she defended. “I ain’t doin’ nothing different than usual.”

Pinkie scoffed. “Well, that doesn’t stop you from going to her shop all dirty and sweaty. You never used to do that!”

Applejack stopped walking, turned around, opened her mouth, thought better of it, and just turned back.

Pinkie Pie was now in Applejack’s path, her eyes glistening so much, she seemed on the verge of tears. “But-but-but Rarity could’ve picked anypony else for fashion advice! I bet there’s, like, a bajillion ponies who’d kill to be in your position! Hay, even Fluttershy’s got an eye for color-schemes!”

By now, Applejack realized her teeth were clenched. With a deep breath and relaxed jaw, she said, “Most ponies wouldn’t do it for free. And Fluttershy? Have you seen that girl knit a sweater?”

Pinkie snorted. “Well, duh! But come on, she can’t be any worse than y—”

Pinkie shoved her hooves into her mouth and trembled beneath AJ’s dejected glare. Silence loomed over the two ponies like a ceiling of nooses until Applejack broke it.

“Pinkie,” she asserted her end-all-argument tone again, “Rarity and I are friends, ya hear? She asked for help and I answered. Nothin’ more, nothin’ less,” she said.

Finally, by the grace of Celestia, Pinkie stopped following Applejack just as the farmhouse came into view. “But… I was so sure,” Pinkie whispered.

There wasn’t a cell in Applejack’s body that wanted to leave Pinkie there. In fact, she itched to turn back and apologize, even go so far as to say, ‘For you, I’ll think about it’. But that would be a lie. Applejack didn’t love Rarity…

She winced again; that was a lie too. Heaven knows Applejack loved that mare to pieces, but in no way was she in love with her. Never.

Applejack kept walking and tried not to think about the broken blue eyes that surely followed her to the door.

“Would it really be so bad, Applejack?”

And there it was… a moment of weakness. Applejack stopped just short of the farmhouse door, and shook her head clean of Pinkie’s implications.

“I mean, think about it,” Pinkie continued. “If it wasn’t for you, Rarity would’ve lost her Boutique. Because of you, those flighty-tighty ponies in Canterlot are buying her clothes again. You saved her Applejack.”

Applejack turned to look at Pinkie, and promised herself she’d throw her own face into a wall for being that stupid.

“’Course I did, Sugarcube,” Applejack said. “That’s what caring, platonic, totally-not-in-love friends do for each other.” Pinkie’s ears fell again, and Applejack just couldn’t look at her anymore. “Thanks for the company, Pinkie. It’s been, uh… It’s been somethin’.”

With the farmhouse door slammed just a little too hard, Applejack left Pinkie to her muses. She pressed her tight back against the door and slid to the ground. Her eyes lifted, fighting the coming migraine and the whirlwind of jumbled thoughts.

As the sunset shimmered behind lush mountains, and spilled orange in the sky, Applejack wondered if she’d sleep at all that night. Worse, she wondered if she’d ever stop thinking about Pinkie’s words.

For the first time in a very long time, ‘seeing Rarity’ was suddenly topped at Applejack’s list of hated things.


**********


With a start, Rarity woke up with a splitting headache.

A whole list of reasons came to mind; from bumping her head on the front door when she returned home the previous evening, to twisting beneath her ivory sheets, wondering, pondering, seething.

Rarity groaned at the grating buzz of her alarm clock, and wondered, not for the first time, if she could afford a new one. Rarity slapped a hoof onto the clock and threw it against her closet door with a satisfying *crash*.

Just another thing to blame Twilight Sparkle for. It was all her fault, after all.

Rarity sat up with a grimace, the sheets sliding off her ruffled mane. The nerve. The nerve of that Twilight Sparkle to say something so untrue. Rarity had already told Twilight where she and Applejack stood. And what did Twilight respond with? 

“You’re totally in love with her. You know that, right?”

A blind accusation! Rarity couldn’t even complete her spa treatment, she was so flustered. That was yesterday. And with her coat still caked with dried sweat, Rarity was more than sure she needed another spa treatment. With a silent curse, Rarity dragged herself out of bed, almost too frightened to look at herself in her vanity’s mirror.

When she did, she swore to the sun and moon she’d make Twilight pay for every hair out of place.

Her morning routine, while usually meticulous and entirely too long, was instead sloppy and rushed. Even after a warm bath, to rid her of all that dried sweat, Rarity was still tired and unfocused. Every second she spent brushing the morning grime from her teeth, Twilight’s words echoed in her head like shouts from Mt. Canterlot. Every brush of her mane woke her up more and more, and she realized just how little she wanted to see Applejack that day.

But it was too late and she knew it; they’d already agreed—as they had many times before—that Applejack would be there that very afternoon when her chores were done. As admirable as it was daunting, Applejack always kept her word.

With grumbles and mutters, Rarity entered her workroom, double-checked her client list, gathered her materials, donned her red-framed glasses, and resumed where she and Applejack left off the previous day. A wavy, southern-belle dress, white as snow, chest-hugging with a bow on the back.

An ugly abomination that should’ve been thrown in a furnace. But this is what the client wanted. This is what would keep her refrigerator full. 

More times than she was comfortable to admit, Rarity stopped in front of her glass showcase, and glared at the templates of her new fashion line—the very saviors of her livelihood. She used to scoff at those clothes, used to think so little of them, even after Hoity Toity’s demands.

But no, Rarity wasn’t allowed to think so little of them; Canterlot ponies wanted ‘swanky duds and Stetsons’. Canterlot ponies were going through a ‘country’ phase. Canterlot ponies were a bunch of self-concerned fools that wouldn’t know a fashionable dress if it walked out of their closet, cooked breakfast, and washed their dishes.

In hindsight, Rarity suspected that Fancy Pants played no small part in this. ‘Charmingly rustic’, indeed. Rarity wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at the irony.

Absurd is what it was. Not the salvation of her fashion career. No. But, rather, who helped her salvage it. The thought of Applejack twisted Rarity’s stomach. In fact, she’d dared to say she hadn’t been so repulsed by that pony since Twilight’s first slumber party.

And that made her even more sick. And distracted. Distractions were no small issue when completing a dress.

It shouldn’t have been this way. Rarity was supposed to be grateful, to smile stupidly at the thought of a true, true friend, to scramble up some way to repay her impossibly large debt to the farmer. Instead, Rarity found every reason to complain, while Twilight’s words resounded in her like a cave of screeching bats.

“How dare she,” Rarity muttered as she snipped a ribbon of fabric.

The more Rarity thought of it, the more suspicious she became. Surely, there was no reason for Twilight’s sudden interest in her personal affairs, even if they were with Applejack. Yet she’d outright accused Rarity of being ‘totally in love’ with that filthy, cocky, no-talent-having, inconsiderate, rugged, powerful, solid, shapely, beast of a mare.

Rarity snipped a thread too short. “Oh, shoot,” she said.

It was all too sudden; Twilight could have intervened weeks ago. But only in recent days, as Applejack started smirking when Rarity got mad, and teasing her when she got a measurement wrong, and insulting her old dresses…

Rarity’s horn dimmed, and all her levitated material hit the ground. “There’s no way…” she whispered.

Suddenly, it all made sense. Between them both, Twilight and Applejack’s behaviour was more than a coincidence. It had to be. In fact, Rarity dared to consider…

“Those crooks!” she shouted.

She should have know. She should’ve known Applejack was acting stranger than normal, and why. She should’ve suspected why Pinkie Pie always asked how her afternoons were, and never stopped until she got an answer, or why Twilight insisted on accompanying her yesterday evening.

She should have realized that Applejack had been courting her, and that Twilight and Pinkie helped her.

Fools. Fools, fools, fools, all of them. They thought they could pull the wool over Rarity’s eyes. They thought they could trick Rarity into actually falling for that carefree attitude, unmatched dependability, and those glistening muscles.

“Well, they thought wrong!” Rarity shouted, practically tearing her glasses off. “I won’t do it! I will not be persuaded into something so… so ridiculous!”

Rarity paced like a madpony, connecting dots she couldn’t believe she missed before. Small wonder Applejack leapt at the opportunity to help, that she was the one who suggested those daily visits, that she tried every insulting little thing in the book to get a reaction from Rarity. And they all worked!

And that smirk. That arrogant, no-good, ‘I’ve got you by the ovaries and there’s nothing you can do about it’ smirk. Only now did Rarity understand what it meant. Only now was it clear as the mid-morning sky, that Applejack thought Rarity ‘owed her’. Ludicrous!

Yes, Applejack sacrificed her own time and dignity to keep Rarity out of bankruptcy. And her advice on seasonal colors was nothing to sniff at. And she allowed Rarity to measure every curve of that lean, taut body for fitting purposes--but Rarity owed Applejack nothing! At least, not what that shameless smirk implied.

Surely, Applejack expected Rarity to ‘thank her’ for her services. Surely, it was Applejack’s plan all along to court Rarity at her most vulnerable. Brutish. Underhanded!  

Well, two could play that game, and Rarity was more than adept at it. She’d show Applejack. She show them all! Applejack may’ve thought she had charm, she may’ve thought she could outwit Rarity and barter her love, but Rarity would disprove her in every way when she arrived.

Yes, Rarity would tease her mercilessly, dangling her prized affection before Applejack like a steak before a dog. She’d shove away, but beckon with needing eyes. She’d turn away, disinterested, but temptingly swish her tail aside.

She’d encourage those quips with giggles and hoof-to-hoof contact. And when all was said and done, when Applejack was reduced to a blathering lovestruck idiot, Rarity would respond to her declaration of love… with a one-way trip out the door.

Oh, Applejack would beg, scream, and demand to be let back inside. But Rarity would simply laugh, having forever reminded her, and everypony else, that she was still a forbidden jewel beyond such underhanded tactics. And no smug farmer was going to change that.

Applejack didn’t have a chance.

Suddenly, Rarity realized how little she’d taken care of herself that morning. With her work forgotten, Rarity bolted back to her bathroom and freshened up like no mare had dared to freshen up before. And it took just as long as it should have. Longer, actually.

When Rarity finished, she left her bathroom with a shine so bright, she could light every dark corner in Detrot. Her hair, graced with a little extra curl. Her coat, smoothed with a little extra gloss. Just as she thought she’d reached the pinnacle of perfection, Rarity noticed all the clumps of dust that may or may not have been there before.

Every corner, every window, every groove between the tile: filthy. Filthy as the pony that would enter Carousel Boutique and track even more dust. So Rarity cleaned. She cleaned, and cleaned, and cleaned so much that her steps wobbled from all the disinfectant in the air.

She cleaned so much, she nearly tripped over her own tail when she looked up at her Grandfather Clock. 1:55pm. Applejack would be there in five minutes. In five minutes, the dust Rarity had extinguished would return in kind. In five minutes, Rarity would greet Applejack with a gentle smile instead of a berating glare.

In five minutes, Rarity would play Applejack like a worn violin.

Knocks assaulted her shop’s front door, and Rarity jumped. “Early? That’s…” She cleared her throat and collected herself. “No matter. All the more convenient for me.”

Rarity stepped before the door and fluffed any ruffles from her mane. With a deep breath, a patented smile, and eyelashes prepped for fluttering, Rarity opened to the door to see…

A frowning Applejack? A clean Applejack?

“Hey, Rarity,” Applejack said.

Rarity lifted a brow; even the greeting seemed strange, a huge contrast to the ‘Howdy, Partner!’ Rarity had grown so used to. Then she noticed something equally troubling: Applejack was just standing there, occasionally glancing at the ground with fidgety hooves.

“Y’all don’t mind if I’m early, right?” Applejack asked.

By the time Rarity realized she was staring at her friend, she became certain this was just another tactic. Yes. Of course. Why on earth would an inconsiderate lout like Applejack care whether she was punctual or not?

“I don’t wanna impose or nothing,” Applejack added.

Chivalry? Really? What a pathetic and predictable tactic.

“Oh, Applejack, darling, you know you’re always welcome here.” Rarity kept her voice low, but inviting, with just a pinch of eagerness. “My client’s new dress will never be complete without your touch. Please, do come in.”

Rarity chose to ignore her friend’s worried grimace. In fact, Rarity ignored a lot of things at that moment. AJ’s steps, once always spry and uncaring of the dirt she tracked inside, were careful, clean, and hesitant. Her face, once always lifted with a smile that only hours of labor could grant, was curled with a thoughtful frown.

She’d even removed her beloved hat and set it on the coatrack. 

And finally, her eyes, once always peered directly into Rarity’s, daring and taunting, were on everything else in Carousel Boutique except the mare who owned it.

Rarity kicked the door closed and smiled at the challenge.
> Act Two
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pinkie Pie sighed. And, yes, that was usually a bad thing.

Pinkie Pie only sighed when something bothered her. And there was a very thin list of things in that category. Frowning friends, burnt pastries, crying Cake-twins, canceled parties, rock-farming... Okay, a formidable list. But that day, none of those things zapped Pinkie’s energy and drew her breath with constant sighs.

The utter destruction of two friends’ future together? That did it.

She had no energy, no sass, no energy to find the sarsaparilla that would restore that sass. So she just sat there in the kitchen of Sugarcube Corner, staring at all the unused, uncooked ingredients for the order she had to prepare.

Pinkie sighed again. She didn’t feel like cooking. She didn’t feel like feeling like cooking. She didn’t feel like laughing or smiling. She didn’t even feel like lifting her ears to the incessant knocks at her door, much less answering them.

Just as Pinkie’s chest puffed up for another sigh, a bright purple flash erupted in front of her, and she screeched at the pony that took its place.

“Pinkie Pie! Why didn’t you answer the door?!” Twilight shouted. “I’ve turned Ponyville on its head looking for you!”

Pinkie raised a brow despite herself. “Really? Why didn’t you check here first?” she asked.

“I… Nevermind that!” Twilight said. “You’ve got to come to Carousel Boutique! Now!”

Pinkie sighed again. To think Twilight actually found some ingenious way to cheer her up...

“Oh…” Pinkie said with a slump to her mane and shoulders. “That…”

Twilight clapped her hooves around Pinkie’s face and lifted her to her own hooves. “Yes, that! Sweet Celestia, Pinkie! To this day, I don’t know how in the hoof you know these things, but you were right! Those two ponies are so totally in love, I can’t even…!”

Two options lay before Pinkie at that moment. Option one: let Twilight smile, squeal, and pace around the kitchen like a filly on sugar-stix. Option two: place a calming hoof on Twilight’s shoulder, sit her down, and tell her exactly how wrong she was.

Pinkie slumped lower. “Twilight. I, uh… I don’t know,” she muttered.

If Twilight turned her head to Pinkie any faster, she might’ve snapped her own neck. “What do you mean, ‘I don’t know?!’ Of course you know! You’ve always known, and I was too blind to see it! But you were right, do you understand me?! So very right!”

Deep in her chest, Pinkie felt an all-too-familiar tingle. The same tingle that pulled her lips into smiles during the darkest days. The same tingle that reminded her of rainbows above cloudy rock-farms. But in the same breath, Pinkie felt an all-too-familiar twinge. The same twinge she felt when Applejack crushed every hope of seeing two friends happier than they’d ever be.

Pinkie was many things; excitable, random, even stubborn. Especially stubborn. But she wasn’t stupid, nor did she cling to something so foolish as Rarity and Applejack being in love with each other. Not anymore.

“I was wrong, Twilight.”

Everything stopped. The wind whistling through the kitchen window, the preheat-timer on the oven, and, perhaps more importantly, Pinkie’s heart. All of it, frozen beneath Twilight Sparkle’s crazed, cock-eyed glare.

“Are you kidding me?” Twilight said. “Are you kidding me?! After all your insistence and all your guilt-tripping, that’s all you have to say?! Pinkie, do you have any idea how much self-respect I lost getting Rarity to spill?!”

By now, Pinkie found a thousand more reason to be angry with herself. “I know, I know! I’m sorry, okay? I was just so sure, and I wanted to see them together so much, and I….”

Twilight pressed her nose hard against Pinkie’s. “Oh no! There isn’t a snowflake’s chance in Hell you’re getting off that easy!” she declared. “You dragged me into this! You got me invested! You showed me how totally in love our friends are!”

Pinkie started shaking on her hooves. “But… But…”

“You. Are going to see this through. And you. Are going to like it…” Twilight said through clenched teeth. “Ya got that?”

Pinkie’s head sunk between her shoulders and she squealed. “But…”

“We go!”

Twilight’s horn came to life with a sharp purple glow, and Pinkie clinched her eyes shut. For a long moment, Pinkie kept her eyes shut, fearing the worst for reasons that escaped her. When she slowly grudgingly opened them, Pinkie found herself outside Carousel Boutique, and Twilight, wearing a smile that would make Pinkie jealous on a normal day, sitting beside her.

“There. You see that Pinkie?” Twilight said with her forehooves pressed on a familiar window sill. “Totally in love!”

To begin with, Pinkie didn’t want to look. She didn’t even want to be there. But her blood froze solid at what Twilight may have done if she said any of that. So Pinkie looked through the window. And suddenly, her very perception was sideways.

“Wait a second,” Pinkie said, now much more invested in the two ponies behind that window. “What’s going on here?”

Backwards. That’s what it was. Downright, inexplicably backwards. Applejack was clean, absolutely spotless, and completely focused on finishing the white dress she and Rarity worked on the other day. With a hoof to her chin, Applejack observed the dress, scrutinized it. And completely ignored her host.

Rarity was a different issue, an issue that sprung Pinkie’s forehooves to the window sill. The unicorn stared at Applejack on occasion, jerking her eyes away when the farmer noticed. She also stood closer to Applejack, closer than usual, and she’d always frown with puffy red cheeks when Applejack distanced herself.

“Isn’t that just the cutest thing?” Twilight said with a furious blush.

“But… I don’t get it,” Pinkie said.

Twilight looked at her friend with a squinty eye. “Hold on. What do you mean?” she asked.

“Well, just look at them, Twilight!” Pinkie’s blood started to pump. “Just yesterday, Applejack couldn’t stop smirking, and Rarity was pacing and steaming everywhere! And now…”

Twilight returned to the ‘romantic’ spectacle with narrowed eyes. “You know? Now that you mention it…”

Rarity seemed almost desperate for Applejack’s attention. She walked in front of the farmer whenever she was ignored for too long, she’d constantly try to establish eye-contact, and she flashed an occasional smile. She even brushed her tail along Applejack’s side much too slowly to be accidental. More than once, even.

How did Applejack respond? With a few glares and the cold shoulder.

Pinkie gave long loud gasp. “Twilight! You said you spoke to Rarity yesterday?” she asked, her voice pitched too high for even her own ears.

Twilight raised an eyebrow at Pinkie and nodded. “I caught her on her way to the Spa. At first I thought I’d just enjoy a little R&R. But I thought about what you said and… I just had to know what Rarity thought of Applejack,” she said.

Pinkie gulped. “What did she say?”

“Oh you should have seen her, Pinkie!” Twilight said with enthusiasm the pink pony wanted so much to share. “She kept calling her dirty, and rude, and all sorts of names, and she blushed every time I mentioned how helpful she was and… and she just got so flustered, how could she not be in love?!”

Pinkie gulped harder. “And… And you?”

Twilight scoffed. “Are you kidding? There was only one thing to say. I straight told her she was in love is what I did! Oh, she turned so red, I thought her nose would bleed!” Twilight’s smile grew impossibly large. “Right then—right when she jumped out of that hot tub and ran from the spa, soaking wet—I just knew it!”

Twilight clapped her hooves and squealed so sharply, Pinkie’s ears caved. And Pinkie was not amused.

Pinkie had failed. Failed! She couldn’t hold up her end of the deal, she couldn’t make Applejack see the light, as Twilight obviously had for Rarity. She couldn’t fulfil her promise to see two friends realize something more precious than the shiniest diamond in Canterlot.

The wide-eyed anticipation melted clean off of Pinkie’s face. And in its place, there was only pure. Unrestrained. Terror.

“Oh, no...”


**********


As the toughest, most dependable pony in all of Ponyville, Applejack’s patience rivaled that of Princess Celestia herself. In fact, she prided herself on such a trait, coupled with her honest down-to-earth nature.

She was a solid, focused, dedicated mare that saw passed problems and found only solutions. A pony that, for better or worse, was Ponyville’s rock. Or, more specifically, Rarity’s rock.

Applejack’s dedication had its merits, to be sure. One, of which, was spending an extended period of time with a total priss. After nine hours of farm work. Being choked by perfume and fruity shampoo.

At first, the idea scared Applejack to death, and more than once, she thought she’d regret ever agreeing to help Rarity with her fashion-crisis. Applejack was a formidable pony, yes, but she couldn’t stitch a dress to save her life.

Did that stop her from inspiring Rarity to press forward and create? Did that stop her from tapping deep into alien memories, memories from a destiny she wasn’t meant to have, and giving solid tangible advice about ‘Country’ wear?

If it had, Applejack wouldn’t’ve been there that day. She wouldn’t’ve saw to it that Rarity never gave up, or visited her every day to keep her afloat, to be there for her. Once, ‘being there’ for Rarity was just an extra chore. But over time, it taught Applejack ways around Rarity’s fussiness.

Though more harsh and demanding than she used to be, Rarity’s company became a regular necessity. An ear-grating whine or a useless complaint became more than just an annoyance; it told Applejack that all was right in the world, and that Rarity would make it through those trying times.

As days turned to weeks, Applejack grew fond of the whining and complaining. So fond, that Applejack began provoking it with quips, teases about her old designs, and ‘forgetting’ to shower before leaving the farm. And the resulting flank-chew always, always brought a smile to Applejack’s face. A smile that, over time, became a perpetual smirk.

Any other day afterwards, this wouldn’t change. Applejack would watch in wonder as Rarity constructed their vision into masterpieces of thread, cotton, and jewels. Applejack would snort whenever Rarity dropped something, or sewed a seam too loose, and would smirk whenever Rarity yelled at her for it. Applejack would simply love being with Rarity.

“Why aren’t you looking at me, you clueless oaf?!”

Today was not one of those days.

In fact, that day was far beyond Applejack’s comfort zone. Ever since her ‘discussion’ with Pinkie Pie, Applejack had been reluctant to show up at Carousel Boutique to begin with. Rarity distracting her with eye-flutters, tail-swipes, unnecessary nuzzles, and a sway in the step much too perfect to be unrehearsed, wasn’t helping matters.

It was all so very stupid. So stupid how, in one swoop, Pinkie managed to turn a regular necessity into a declaration of love. For that, Applejack didn’t smirk, Applejack didn’t speak, and Applejack didn’t ‘forget’ to shower before leaving the farm.

And throughout that entire ordeal, Applejack didn’t look at Rarity for more than two seconds, much more inclined to focus on the reason she was there in the first place.

“Stop ignoring me!” Rarity shouted from behind a frowning Applejack.

As Applejack’s jaw clenched, she felt something inside her crack like frozen water. A cold spike of fear stabbed at her heart when she felt her patience fizzle out. The farmer's ears flicked at Rarity’s stomping hoof.

“I swear! If you aren’t the most insufferable pony I’ve ever met!” Rarity shouted again. “Why must you make things so hard for me!”

That was the last straw.

Before she could stop herself, or even care, for that matter, Applejack spun to Rarity with a glare that could wither trees and dry lakes.

“Y’all serious, right now?!” Applejack bit back. “After everythin’ I’ve put up with the last 24 hours, I’m makin’ things hard?!”

“What you’ve put up with?!” Rarity replied with an accusing hoof. “You’re the one who started this whole thing!” Rarity stomped again and started pacing. “Just who do you think you are, Applejack?! Toying with me the way you do?!”

Some small part in Applejack's head, the part that rationalized stupidity, wanted to see Rarity’s behavior as simple ramblings of a frustrated unicorn with bottled anger, that this was just her blowing off steam.

There was a reason Applejack ignored that part of her psyche.

“That’s what this is about?!” Applejack demanded. “For all the times I’ve poked fun at ya before, ya never—”

“Oh you would want me to believe that, wouldn’t you?!” Rarity interjected, her cheeks reddening. “That you’ve been innocent this whole time! That this wasn’t all part of your plan to begin with!”

The accusation, like any Applejack had experienced, was like a knife to the chest. And despite her growing rage, Applejack felt the same hurt that came with any accusation. Especially now that it came from Rarity.

“Plan? What fuzzy-brain nonsense are y—”

“Well! It’s not going to work!” Rarity declared with a lifted nose and her flank turned to her guest. “I’m on to you and your two lackeys, Applejack.”

Applejack just stood there, slack-jawed. And if she hadn’t known all the terrible things she could do with a needle and thread before, Rarity’s challenging smirk made her painfully aware.

“What’s the matter, darling?” Rarity said as she looked over her shoulder. “Caught in the act?”

Applejack’s eyes hit the floor, searching for answers to questions that hit her like a speeding train. The farmer looked back up to Rarity with narrowed eyes.

“Have you been talkin’ to Pinkie Pie?”

“Ah-HAH!” Rarity whirled around to face Applejack. “So you admit it!”

Applejack threw her hooves to her mane. “Admit what?! I don’t even know where this came from!” she shouted. “First, Pinkie’s runnin’ to the farm askin’ how we fell ‘totally in love’, and now here you are, teasin’ and flirtin’!”

Despite Applejack’s heaving breaths, she saw the confidence ebb away from Rarity’s face.

“She… Pinkie did what?” Rarity asked with a dainty hoof over her lips.

“It was like fightin’ a lion with a twig, Rarity. She just wouldn’t shut up about it!” Applejack said.

For a fraction of a second, Rarity’s mask broke completely, but she restacked it and desperately clung to her challenging attitude. “Oh? A-and what did you say to our dear party-planner, hmmm?”

“Oh, no! I ain’t tellin’ ya nothin’ else, ‘till y’all explain why you’ve been actin’ so dagum flirty!”

The second Applejack saw that soft white face go red, she smelt blood in the water. And only the earth pony’s kind nature kept her from prying Rarity’s defenses away. Then Rarity lifted her chin with a ‘hmph!’

“I hardly think that’s any of your business,” Rarity said.

Finally, whatever benevolent spirit that had kept a lid on Applejack’s temper, against all odds, abandoned her.

“Any o’ my… Oh, that’s it. That's it!”

Applejack was well aware of her volume, and how it resounded amidst the workroom and even the hallways. She was also aware that Rarity yelped and jumped back. But she didn’t care anymore.

“It’s bad enough y’all accuse me of lyin’ and schemin’! But now—oh now—ya don’t wanna tell me why you! Are messin’ with me?!”

Again, Rarity lifted a shaky hoof to her lips, paralyzed by fiery emerald-green eyes.

“Applejack, I—”

“Forget it, Rarity!” Applejack said, barging passed the unicorn. “I don’t gotta take this! I’ve got enough on my plate without highfalutin ungrateful ponies who wouldn’t know a good friend if they showed up everyday to help ‘em!”

Applejack didn’t care about Rarity’s desperate grimace. She didn’t care how rough she may have barged passed the unicorn to get to the exit. She didn’t care that she’d only spent an hour there, or that their current project remained untouched since her arrival.

“A-Applejack, wait! I’m…”

Applejack ignored her. It was all she could do to keep from looking at her, to keep her anger at a simmer before it full-on boiled, to keep ‘yelling’ from escalating into something much worse. As she approached the door, Applejack couldn’t remember the last time she wanted to leave Carousel Boutique so badly.

But when something yanked at her backside and stopped her in her tracks, Applejack’s every thought focused on how badly she could hurt the unicorn biting her tail. Applejack looked back... and all anger fell out of her like the tears that fell from Rarity’s eyes.

Rarity let Applejack’s tail fall from her mouth, her watery eyes falling to her hooves. Clearly, Rarity had not meant to do that, as the furious blush would suggest. But her next words nearly broke Applejack’s heart.

“Please don’t go?” Rarity begged, her tears falling harder. “Those horrible things I said... I didn’t mean a word of it.”

Applejack wanted to call Rarity a liar, to say that no amount of hard cider could convince her otherwise. Perhaps, if Rarity hadn’t clamoured for her attention earlier, Applejack would've believe her, she might've even dried those tears.

Instead, she just turned completely to her friend and listened. Waiting. No frown. No threatening glare.

“I… I thought you were courting me.”

The moment those words reached her ears, Applejack opened her mouth with a deep breath and stern look.

“Please, Applejack!” Rarity interrupted. “Do you want to know the reasons for my behavior, or not?”

Applejack shut her mouth, and Rarity scraped a hoof on the carpet.

“It never occurred to me before, really. But…” Rarity took a leap of faith and looked her fellow mare in the eye. “When Twilight joined me at the spa yesterday…”

Applejack’s ears jerked up, but she squashed the urge to unleash the questions roaring in her skull.

Rarity’s eyes fell to her hooves again. “She kept asking me all these questions, like why you helped me everyday. She implied the most absurd things, like why we spent so much time together. She even went so far as to say I was—”

“Totally in love?”

“—totally in...” Rarity shot a raised brow to Applejack. “Ah, yes… Pinkie Pie.”

Applejack nodded and remained silent. Rarity sighed sharply and looked like she swallowed a snail.

"I was flirting with you because I thought you were scheming with our friends. I thought you believed I… ‘owed’ you for all your help.” As Rarity spoke, her voice slowly descended to a whisper, then to a squeak. “I wanted to toy with you, to make you weak at the knees, to make you embarrassingly attached to me. Then I’d…” 

“Y’all thought I was takin’ advantage of ya.” That wasn’t a question, or a suggestion. And Applejack couldn’t suppress her frown. “Like a common crook.”

“That’s not fair!” Rarity bit back. “With all your teasing, and prodding, and smirking, and… What was I supposed to think, Applejack?!”

Applejack scoffed. “Gee, I don’t know, Sugarcube. Reckon, ‘somepony that helped ya out because she cares too much,’ might’ve crossed the mind! But I guess that wasn’t clear enough for ya!”

Rarity’s face turned a shade of red that Applejack didn’t know existed. “Of course it wasn’t clear! Nothing with you is clear anymore! You have no idea what you do to me each day!”

Before long, Rarity started pacing again.

“I stare when I don’t mean to, I want to ignore you when all I do is listen, I say ‘leave’ when I mean ‘stay’! Nothing makes sense anymore, and it’s all your fault, Applejack!”

Right then and there, with her anger once again beating in her veins, Applejack attacked the root of the problem. “Darnit, Rarity, listen to me! I don't lo—”

Even as Applejack pursed her lips shut, she knew she couldn’t change what she’d said, and she watched Rarity gasp as something like glass broke behind those deep cerulean eyes.

“I… I’m not in love with you,” Applejack said, much quieter than she’d meant to.

Rarity’s shoulders slumped a bit, their muscles receding behind her coat. “I know that now… Applejack,” she muttered.

Applejack kept from lifting a hoof over her lurching heart, fully comprehending the damage she had done. Then Applejack saw those tears welling in Rarity’s eyes again, and the farmer couldn’t think anymore.

“Rarity, I…” This time, Applejack’s eyes searched the floor. “I-it ain’t like I haven’t thought about at times. It’s just—” Applejack’s eyes shot straight up when those words played back in her head. “No. I meant…”

Rarity approached her friend, careful and slow, rummaging through those green eyes with her own. Applejack noticed, but was too shocked by her own stupidity to move away.

“I don’t know what I meant.” Applejack frowned so hard, her forehead twinged. “I shouldn’t have even said that, consarnit!”

“Then why did you?”

The question seemed no better than an accusation. But when Applejack looked back up at those pleading desperate eyes, she didn’t feel the same stab in the chest like before. No. She felt nothing but cold hard fear.

“I don’t know!” Applejack shouted by accident. “This is what happens when I hear ponies talk, Rarity! Even worse, when I listen to ‘em! All that gunk about us bein’ a thing; it’s all a bunch o’ hooey, and yet…”

Rarity stepped closer, and still, Applejack couldn’t move. “Yet?” Rarity whispered.

“This is stupid! Y’all got me so confuzzled right now, I don’t even remember my name!” If Applejack were a lesser pony, she’d have punched herself in the face. “We shouldn’t be talkin’ about this! We should be lookin’ at this stupid dress, fixin’ it up for your stupid client, so I can get outta this stupid, stupid shop!”

Applejack couldn’t tell when she started pacing. She couldn’t tell when she started shaking, or even how hard she was breathing. Her only priority, at that moment, was vanquishing the thoughts that shouldn’t have existed at all.

Thoughts of visiting Carousel Boutique for more than making dresses. Thoughts of smirking when Rarity walked a certain way. Thoughts of proving all those gossiping ponies so terribly right.

Applejack marched toward the unfinished dress, no longer certain what she was looking for. “I’ll stay, Rarity. But I… I can’t talk about this no more. Alright?”

When Applejack heard only silence, she dared to be relieved, dared to think the fashionista shared her sentiments and would join her in silence.

“Would it really be so bad, Applejack?”

Applejack stopped breathing. In fact, the only thing that may have actually functioned was her heart. No. No, that stopped as well. But when Rarity’s hoof-steps clattered to her, closer and closer, Applejack’s heart broke olympic track records.

“Are you so against the idea, you’d never give it a chance,” Rarity asked, her voice eerily low, “would never consider it, even for moment?”

“Guh. Rarity.”

“Or… Or maybe,” Rarity’s voice squeaked out again, “maybe I’ve been such a selfish undeserving wench—maybe I’ve treated you so terribly after everything you’ve done—that you could never...”

Applejack whirled around, now muzzle-to-muzzle with her host. “I didn’t say that!” she said.

Both mares paused. Even long after Applejack uttered those words, she still couldn’t believe them. Rarity, though clearly taken back, silently, eagerly, urged her guest to elaborate. But AJ didn’t. Instead, her ears flattened as Rarity’s breath coated her lips. Over, and over, and over again.

Applejack could have easily pulled away, could’ve just as easily returned to that stupid dress and ignored the unicorn the rest of the afternoon. She did neither of those. She just stood there, cursing the burn on her cheeks, the sandy lump in her throat, the deepening pit in her stomach, and the haze in her eye.

Then Rarity blush, and Rarity’s ears flattened. That was it; the biggest red flag in the history of all red flags slapped Applejack harder than anypony could.

“Rarity…”

“Applejack…”

“I’m not in love with you.”

“Nor am I, with you.”

There. The grounds were set. Neither mare was in love with the other. It was stupid, a poisonous illusion cast by ‘the talk of the town,’ and two underhanded friends that needed a talking-to. Did knowing this guide their muzzles apart?

No.

“Then what are we doin’?” Applejack asked, her eyelids halving. “What’s happenin’ right now?”

Rarity tilted her head ever so slightly, and Applejack found herself doing the same.

“I… I don’t know. It just feels… so…”

The Grandfather Clock went off. With sharp breaths, both mares twitched away from each other by mere inches. They looked at the time; 4:00pm.

“Day's almost up,” Applejack muttered flatly.

“Quite,” Rarity replied with equal enthusiasm.

Applejack closed her eyes and turned away, once again facing the unfinished dress. “We should, uh… probably finish this dress before tonight,” she said.

Rarity stepped forward, standing beside the farmer in silence.

“Rarity?”

The unicorn’s eyes darted to Applejack. “Yes?”

“This never happened.”

“What never happened?”

“Exactly.”

Progress. Progress at last. Finally, with Rarity’s swift sketches, and Applejack’s critical eye, the farmer and the fashionista produced the finishing touches to that daunting white dress.

To an outsider, it would seem perfectly average for the two; Rarity snipped and threaded with her items levitated around her, and Applejack stopped her when a shape was too extravagant, or encouraged her when a ribbon was duly needed.

But it wasn’t perfectly average. Perfectly average wasn’t silent with shamefully red blushes. Perfectly average wasn’t apologizing for an accidental brush of the tail, or hoof-to-hoof contact, or stares that may have lasted a little too long.

There were even times when Rarity messed up, and Applejack teased her about it. Times when Rarity yelled at Applejack for being a thoughtless beast that laughed at greatness in the making, and Applejack smirked at her.

And there was a time Rarity got so flustered, she demanded Applejack to leave, then magically locked the door shut when Applejack tried to.

Only when they finally finished, after the thousandth cut thread, and the thousandth redone ruffle, and the thousandth debate on getting Applejack to fit the damn thing, Rarity and her partner in crime sat side by side.

“So…” Applejack said, slinging the measuring tape off her neck. “Fluer De Lis, huh?”

Rarity nodded. “I couldn’t ask for a better client,” she said with a growing smile. “The payment she offered would… It’s the biggest break I’ve had in months.” Rarity’s smile waned as she looked uncertainly at the dress. “Erm, assuming she likes it, of course.”

Applejack scoffed. “Y’all know I was never one for those kind o’ clothes. Or… clothes, in general, really, but If I think the dress has style, I doubt any uptight nose-in-the-air Canterlot pony would disagree.”

Though Rarity turned away from her, Applejack was more than certain the unicorn blushed at the praise.

“Yes, well,” Rarity regained herself, “I hope she enjoys it for what it’s worth. The dress suits you far better, I think.”

Applejack didn’t answer, and somehow, she knew Rarity was okay with that. Maybe Rarity was aware of the heat on Applejack’s face as well.

The farmer took a tired glance at the dimming twilit sky from behind a nearby window.

“Huh.” she said. “Stayed a little later than I thought.”

Rarity brought a hoof to a loose curl in her mane, and twirled it. “Yes. Yes, you did.”

“And I suppose you’ll be sendin’ that dress tomorrow.” Applejack turned her head toward Rarity. “Y’all won’t be needin’ me no more. Not until your next client, anyway.”

Rarity tugged her curly strand down her neck. “Indeed. There… wouldn’t be much point in your coming here after tonight, would there?”

Applejack shifted on her hooves. “Nope. Reckon there wouldn’t be.”

Silence.

Hours ago, that silence may have been a hair more tolerable. But not that time. Not when they were so close, not after everything that happened that day. Rarity gave her curl a final tug, and it snapped back in place, unstranded wild.

“You… are coming by tomorrow afternoon,” Rarity shimmied closer to the earth pony, her half-lidded eyes locking onto her friend’s, “aren’t you, Applejack?”

Somehow, Applejack managed a smile and said, “Same time as always.” She laughed a little. “Yeah.”

The next thing Applejack realized, even before she realized the arms flung around her neck, or another face entirely too close to hers, a thin trail of saliva stretched between Rarity’s lips and her own.

“Good.” Rarity grinned at the sputtering mare, and lifted her muzzle to Applejack’s twitching ear. “Sleep well, darling,” she whispered.

Only when Rarity unbarred herself did Applejack remember how to talk. “Y-yeah. Same to you.”

Rarity turned and walked away from Applejack. And still the farmer’s hooves were grounded in place. She could only stand there and watch; the sway in Rarity’s step, the bounce of Rarity’s mane, the piece of her soul Rarity took with her.

Rarity turned back with a faint blush. “Well? Off with you then,” Rarity said with a shooing hoof. “You need your rest to finish your chores tomorrow.”

Applejack sputtered back to attention. “Uh, right! Yeah, I’ll just… be on my way.”

Finally, Applejack tore her eyes away from that soft white backside, walked toward the door, opened it, and snatched her Stetson from the coat rack. Then, with every memory of what happened that day, only one word resounded in Applejack’s head.

Coward.

She stopped.

She wanted to leave. She wanted to spend time away from Rarity. She wanted to work her farm and sell her apples and think she didn’t love what Rarity did to her.

Because she was afraid. Afraid of Rarity. Afraid of what may have sparked between them. Afraid of the common ground that brought them closer than Applejack ever thought possible. Why? What reason could she possibly have? What horrible unspeakable thing could possibly happen if Applejack just… accepted it? The thought kept her hooves still and her breath shallow. And it was totally outrageous.

Earth ponies from many ages passed thought that sharing their seeds and crops with other tribes would starve them and their children. They did it anyway.

The founders of Equestria thought hatred would root and grow again if they united the three tribes. They did it anyway.

Princess Celestia knew she’d be burdened with the weight of an entire kingdom for generations if she banished her sister to the moon. She did it anyway.

Five crazy ponies had no idea what terrible unfathomable danger awaited them if they joined Twilight Sparkle to find the Elements of Harmony. They did it anyway.

Rarity could’ve been yelled at, insulted, or even struck in the face for kissing Applejack the way she had that day. She did it anyway.

And now, Applejack was afraid that if she turned around, kicked that door shut, bounded across Carousel Boutique, tackled Rarity down, bent her over a table and did unspeakable things to her, she’d ruin the closest friendship she’s ever had.

Applejack smiled. But only because following her ancestors’ example was shameless and ironic. Not because she was in love, because Applejack Apple was definitely undeniably not in love. 

Not really. 

Not totally.

She tossed her hat back on the rack.
> Epilogue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twilight Sparkle was ashamed of herself.

And she had every reason to be. Because of a few rumors, an overexcited earth pony, and a curiosity that couldn’t be denied, Twilight had played her hoof in destroying a perfect bond. She never thought this day would come, she never thought she’d be responsible, but it happened.

Applejack and Rarity were no longer friends.

It was terrible. Horrible. To see two peas in a pod go head-to-head like that. Twilight couldn’t hear what Rarity and Applejack were saying, but watching Rarity jump back, watching Applejack barge passed her and straight for the door, Twilight simply couldn’t watch anymore, and neither could Pinkie Pie.






They couldn’t watch their friendship crumble like ash. They couldn’t watch Applejack crash through that door screaming how she never wanted to see Rarity again. So Twilight and Pinkie ran. They ran, and ran until their legs buckled beneath them.






And that night, Twilight was sure she’d never seen Pinkie cry before, and was even more sure she never wanted to again.






And now, the morning after, Twilight skulked aimlessly throughout Ponyville, sifting through option after option of self-punishment. Even though Twilight was quite sure she’d never tie her wings down and throw herself off a cliff, go to Sweet Apple Acres during Applebuck Season and disguise herself as a tree, or swear off reading for a week, she still felt dirty.






A rat is what she felt like. A filthy vermin that unjustly escaped punishment.






 Of course, the pink pony walking next to her, jabbering on and on about things Twilight was sure didn’t make sense, insisted on sharing the blame.






“To conclude,” Pinkie continued with a deep breath that thinned the air, “if we catch the next train to Hoofington in ten minutes, that’ll leave us plenty of time to find a home, and change our names.”






Twilight groaned. “Pinkie. We’re not going anywhere,” she said.






Pinkie stopped in her tracks and stared at Twilight like she declared ponies had fingers. She bounded forward and jumped in Twilight’s path.






“Twilight! Weren't you listening to me?!” Pinkie shouted. “We can’t stay here! Not after… We just can’t!”






Twilight groaned again. At first, if maybe under slight duress, Twilight had actually thought packing her things and jumping town would spare her the shame of seeing Applejack avoid Carousel Boutique at every turn, or Rarity looking at apples with a scrunched forehead.






Twilight walked passed her frazzled friend. “Pinkie, running away from this won’t change anything. It won’t bring Applejack and Rarity together again,” she said with a gripping pit in her stomach.






Pinkie jumped in her path again. “But it’s all my fault! If I wasn’t so set on playing ‘matchmaker’, they’d be at the Boutique right now working on dresses, and smirking, and pacing, and blushing, and being totally in love, and—oh, there I go again!” Pinkie’s face fell into her hooves.






Another pain in Twilight’s stomach accompanied the first, like two lumps of burning coal. She sat upon the dirt road and placed a hoof on Pinkie’s shoulder.






“Oh, Pinkie. I overreacted too.” That was true. So true that it hurt. “I got so caught up in the hype, I didn’t see how much I was hurting them. If I hadn’t followed Rarity to the spa that day...”






Pinkie lifted her head, and Twilight could feel something inside of her shrivel at those wet blue eyes. “But I dragged you into it! I saw things that weren’t there! I made Applejack change her attitude, bath after work, and stop smiling when she—” Pinkie gasped long and loud.






Twilight raised a concerned brow. “Pinkie? Are you okay?” she said.






Pinkie fell back on her haunches. “Twilight. I made Applejack stop smiling…”






Even Twilight felt that one. With a cringe and a suck of her teeth, Twilight desperately searched for the right thing to say, but found nothing of the sort.






“I made her unhappy. I ruined the one thing that could’ve brought that smile to her everyday. I took Rarity’s knight in shining armor away from her. They hate each other because of—” Pinkie leaned back, looking at the sky like it showed her a truth infinitely above mortal comprehension. “I’m… I’m a monster.”






If memory served, and it did quite well, Twilight knew Pinkie was quite far gone. “I’m sorry Pinkie…” Was all she could muster.






Pinkie shot to her hooves and continued the aimless trek. “That’s it! I’m through! Finished! I’m moving to Hoofington, and there’s nothing anypony can say to change that!” she shouted.






As the crowds thickened, Twilight realized they had entered the market area. Which was perfect. Maybe some delicious cantaloupe would ease the mind. Didn’t hold much hope for Pinkie, but…






“It’ll be hard saying goodbye to the Cakes! But I gotta do it, Twilight! I just gotta!”






The pair continued along isles and isles of food-stands that teemed with every type of fruit and vegetable in the equine diet. She smiled a grateful smile, the grumble in her stomach having dulled the pain in her heart.






“Ponyville doesn’t need a frown-down party-pooper-pants like me darkening its door! Well I’ll fix that! I’ll leave and I’ll never come back!” Pinkie continued.






They reached the fruit stand, and the misty tropical scent filled Twilight’s nostrils. Just as she licked her lips at the thought of that cantaloup, a clump of clashing colors near the apple-stand caught her eye.






“Oh, but I’d still write to you girls, of course! I could tell you all about my new life with friends that I totally DIDN’T drive apart! And you could tell me how Rarity and Applejack would be doing—no, don't do that! I don’t wanna know!”






Twilight broke left to a nearby bench to get a better look, with Pinkie miraculously aware enough to follow. Orange and white. Applejack and Rarity. Together. Smiling. Laughing. Standing very close to each other.






“And when I change my name, it’ll be something more happy! Something unbefitting of a heartless monster! Something like Alouiscious! Wait, that’s not even spelled right… Ooh! Bakers Dozen! No, too obvious… I know! Surprise! That’s perfect!”






Twilight watched the pair at the apple-stand, her eyes narrowing as her wings gave a slight twitch. Rarity levitated a fresh apple from the pile, and gave Applejack a look Twilight hadn’t seen before.






Applejack leaned forward and bit into the apple.






“It’ll be kinda weird signing letters with a different name. Probably more weird for you girls though. Oh, I know! I’d write that it’s actually ‘Pinkie Pie’ and nopony will be confused! But wait, if I did that and signed it ‘Surprise’, wouldn’t that be forging?”






As Applejack chewed, Rarity leaned forward and took a bite of her own. They stared at each other for a time, chewed slowly and deliberately, swallowed... then took a bite together. Twilight’s eyes widened as the apple got smaller and smaller.






“Is forging signatures a crime? Will that make police ponies unhappy?” Pinkie gasped again with hooves pressed to her temples. “What if ‘Surprise’ is another pony’s name?! What if I impersonate them?! What if that pony goes through same thing I did with that stupid Mirror Pool?!”






By now the apple was completely gone, but the feast continued. With every smack and lick.






“Oh just look at me!” Pinkie threw her forelegs to the air and collapsed on her chest. “I can’t even change my identity without ruining another pony’s life! I’m pathetic!  I’m a criminal! A sad ruinous criminal! I should be condemned! I should be locked in a dungeon! Or banished! Or locked in a dungeon at the place I was banished to! I—”






Twilight pressed her hoof against Pinkie’s forehead and lifted it to the scene. Pinkie’s jaw fell to the ground. And the two little ponies watched as a bustling day at the Market turned into a loud cheering fest, complete with whistles and stomping hooves.






With shouts that sounded an awful lot like “Finally!” or “Took ‘em long enough!” or “Twenty bits says they take each other right here,” Applejack and Rarity proceeded to make out in the middle of that crowd without a care in the world. Pinkie put her jaw back where it belonged.






“Hey, Twilight?”






“Yes, Pinkie?”






“Called it.”


**********


Meanwhile, at an alternate world...



Because sometimes it's just. That. Simple.



FIN