//------------------------------//
// Can Ya Fix Her? 
// Story: Can Ya Fix Her? 
// by LightningSword 
//------------------------------//

“Oh yes, of course, it’s nothing, darling! Nothing at all. Thank you very much for coming to Carousel Boutique!”
 
As Rarity’s latest customer gave one last thank-you before trotting briskly out the door, the fashionista sighed and sauntered to her favorite couch.  “Gracious, what a day,” she mumbled, snuggling her head against the silky cushion and moaning dreamily.  “Close to closing already. I do hope things slow down a tad after such a busy day. Then there’s dinner to attend to . . . perhaps Sweetie Belle would prefer going out tonight . . . not quite in the mood to cook, I must admit—”
 
The entrance bell interrupted Rarity’s thoughts, and she suppressed a moan.  Getting up slowly from her seat, she gave a light gasp at the pony walking through the door and glancing around nervously.
 
“Big McIntosh!” Rarity spoke up, making him glance at her.  “Why, this is a surprise! Come in, darling, come in! You’re well, I trust?”
 
Big McIntosh took slow, heavy steps as he walked further into the shop.  “Eeyup,” he replied.
 
“Well, I must say, I rarely see you here at my shop, certainly not at this time on a weekday. Whatever could be the occasion, hmm? It’s nothing serious, is it?”
 
“Nope,” Big Mac replied, then shifted his gaze between the ceiling and the floor as he quickly recanted.  “E- . . . eeyup.”
 
“Gracious!” Rarity replied, a hoof to her mouth.  “Well, do tell, darling! What is it? It’s nothing serious with Applejack, is it?”
 
Mac’s eyes shifted around again, and his mouth scrunched up a bit before his answer: “Nope.”
 
“Well, is it the Cutie Map? Is it summoning one of us? Does Twilight need us at all?”
 
“Nope.”  Mac kept his gaze on the floor this time.
 
“Oh, dear . . . well, is there something going on with the PonyTones that I must be made aware of?”
 
“Nope.”
 
Rarity sighed and pressed a hoof to her temple.  Admitting the frustrations of talking to an introvert would be truthful, but a bit unbecoming of a lady.
 
“Big McIntosh, darling, I do wish you would be more loquacious sometimes . . . .”  She trailed off as the entrance bell sounded off again.  “Oh, dear,” she mumbled again before turning to Mac.  “It’s not too awfully serious, is it? Anything that can’t wait for just a moment while I take care of this customer?”
 
Big Mac glanced at the new customer, a charcoal gray Pegasus stallion, and shrugged.
 
“Nope.”
 
“All right, then,” Rarity sighed in relief.  “Just a moment, darling. I’ll be back!”  She then leaped toward the stallion and greeted him cheerfully, “Welcome to Carousel Boutique! May I help you with something?”
 
“Nah, just browsing for now,” the stallion said before wandering around the store, eyes combing the racks and mannequins for whatever he desired.  As he searched, Rarity kept her eye on him, ready to assist, but her gaze cut to Big Mac as he waited near the entrance.  He walked in place gently and glanced up at the ceiling again.  He, too, glanced at the stallion, with rather shaky eyes it seemed.
 
What is going on? Rarity asked herself as she took in his expression and body language.  Earlier, Big Mac was his usual stoic self, but now he seems nervous. And that look he’s giving to my customer . . . I don’t suppose he— . . . oh, my . . . .
 
“Excuse me, dear, but could you wait here for just a moment?” Rarity babbled before rocketing across the room, not even waiting for an answer.  She returned to Big Mac with her usual dexterous swiftness and muttered under her breath, “Umm, Big Mac . . . darling . . . forgive me for asking what could very well be a tragic faux pas on my part, but . . . the way you keep glancing at that stallion, there . . . the nervousness . . . the lack of communication . . . you aren’t by any chance hiding someth—”
 
“Nope!”
 
The roughness of his voice was not lost on Rarity at all.  Taken aback, Rarity gave a weak chuckle and cleared her throat delicately.
 
“Well . . . my error . . . umm, please hold.”  And with a grin, she rushed back to the Pegasus stallion.  “Finding everything all right, sir?”
 
“Yeah, I’m good,” he muttered back as he continued perusing the boutique.  Another swift movement like an ivory wind, and Rarity swept back to Big Mac’s side.
 
“Mac, whatever’s going on, I’d prefer it if you’d speak up before closing,” Rarity urged, struggling to maintain calm.
 
Big Mac sighed, glanced once again at the Pegasus, and lowered his head discreetly down beside Rarity’s ear, whereupon the Unicorn heard a deep, warm whisper:
 
“Can we talk in private?”
 
Rarity’s eyes bolted open, and she felt her cheeks begin to flush.  Well, he’s obviously not that kind of stallion, so I suppose it would make sense . . . but no, I mustn’t make assumptions. I could just as easily be wrong.
 
“Hold please!” Rarity grinned before zipping back to the gray Pegasus.  “Will that be all, sir?” she asked, hoping to herself he’d answer in the affirmative.  “I must say, it’s close to closing time, you know.”
 
“Ohhh . . . well . . . .”  The stallion glanced around at a few more shelves and hanger racks before looking back at Rarity.  “Guess I’ll come back tomorrow.”
 
“Terribly sorry I couldn’t help you today, sir. Thank you for shopping at Carousel Boutique!”  Rarity almost delighted in saying it, but stopped herself from adding “window-shopping” to her signoff.  Sighing in gratitude for her own self-control, she saw the stallion out the door, locked up and placed the “CLOSED” sign accordingly, then trotted back up to Big Mac.  He continued switching his gaze from one thing to the other, much like the Pegasus stallion if there had been merchandise also stocked on both the ceiling and the floor.
 
“Well, I do apologize for the wait,” Rarity said, reading Big Mac’s expression as best she could.  “Now, before we go any further into this, Mac, I must ask if this . . . situation . . . has anything to do at all with a romance of any kind between one pony and another . . . you know, just to be sure.”
 
“Nope.”  Big Mac shook his head, and the sturdiness of his voice combined with that was enough to convince Rarity.
 
“Well, for goodness sake, man, out with it!” Rarity spat, her patience thinning.  “Whatever needs tending to, I will help if you’d just . . . .”  Rarity slowed down, took a deep breath, let it out, and continued calmly.  “My most sincere apologies. I will keep composure from now on. But whatever you need, you needn’t fear to tell me. I’m certain I’ll understand.”
 
Mac pursed his lips and glanced from side to side again.  “Well . . . .”
 
“Here now, let’s try something simpler,” Rarity said as Mac stalled.  “Are you here to ask a particular service of me?”
 
Mac lowered his head at this, as if he’d been dreading this question.
 
“Eeyup.”
 
“Excellent! Well, if it involves thread, stitching or textiles of any kind, you can count on Rarity! What might I do for you, Mac?”
 
Once again, Mac’s head dropped, and a light blush darkened his already-red cheeks.  He turned his head as far to the side as it would go, dug his muzzle inside his collar, and pulled out a small gray lump of some kind.  Mac had set it on the floor at Rarity’s feet before the latter knew what it was.
 
It was a small, worn, patchwork doll.  It wore blue pants with white polka-dots and had two differently colored button eyes and a frayed yarn mane.  Its stitched mouth was perpetually straight and stoic as it sat flaccidly on the floor at Rarity’s hooves.
 
On its backside, at the seam holding its pants to its waist, was a small tear that oozed white stuffing.
 
“Can . . .” Big Mac started, rubbing one front leg with the other, his blush intensifying, “. . . can ya fix her?”
 
Rarity stared at the doll for a good few seconds, then glanced up at Mac’s anxious expression.  Lighting her horn, she swept her reading glasses off of a nearby table and donned them, then lifted the doll up in a haze of magic.  Another telekinetic cloud brought a needle and a spool of black thread off the same table, and with Rarity’s magic, the stuffing pushed itself back into the opening.  Rarity then expertly threaded the needle and slipped it into the doll’s tear, dipping it in and pulling it out repeatedly until the tear closed up, as though it hadn’t even been touched, all in the space of ten seconds.
 
“There you are, darling,” Rarity said simply, setting her needle, thread, and glasses down and holding the doll out to Big Mac.  “Good as new. You just be careful with her from now on, hmm?”
 
“Uhhh . . . .”  Big Mac shifted in place and glanced around at various patches of the carpet.  “I-it’s for A-Apple Bloom, not me—”
 
“Big Mac,” Rarity said with a deprecating lilt in her tone.  “We are ponies of substance. Lies do not become us.”
 
Mac’s eyes widened slightly, but he did not look up.
 
“I . . . I . . . .”
 
“Mac, I understand your need to keep this to yourself,” Rarity said, setting the doll down at Mac’s hooves, “but the least you can do is tell Twilight. At the very least, it’s no longer an issue after that.”
 
“She knows,” Big Mac sighed, eyes still on the floor.
 
“Oh?” Rarity replied.  “You mean you told her?”
 
“Eeyup.”
 
“And she’s perfectly fine with it?”
 
“Eeyup.”
 
“Well, dear, why be so anxious?”
 
“Well . . . I-I just . . . don’t want anypony to know . . . .”
 
“Oh, but Big Mac, why ever not? There’s no shame in needing your doll fixed—”  Rarity froze.
 
The blushing.  The anxiety.  Glancing at that other customer.  Needing privacy.  Lying about the doll.  How could I be so blind?!
 
“Big Mac . . . you’re not ashamed of having a doll, are you?”
 
Mac’s mouth worked up into a grimace, and his eyes went even wider.  He looked up at Rarity at last, and held his gaze for a few seconds.  Soon, his eyes closed and his head dipped back down, his ears drooping.
 
“Eeyup . . . .”
 
“Oh, Mac . . .” Rarity mumbled back, feeling Mac’s melancholy grip her insides.  “Mac, why were you so ashamed to say so? You know you’re safe to tell me anything, right?”
 
“E- . . . eeyup.”
 
“And you know I’d never judge you, right?”
 
Mac sighed, struggling to look up at Rarity again.  His reply was weak, almost as though he were half-asleep.
 
“You wouldn’t . . . .”
 
Rarity felt her heart drop.  Having grown up in a feminine environment most of his life (two sisters, a grandmother, and a town of approximately seventy-five percent mares), one would think a stallion would not have such reservations against displays of sensitivity, and thus no fear of outsiders’ opinions.
 
“Did something happen to you to make you feel this way?” Rarity asked, having a feeling she knew the answer somehow.
 
“Eeyup.”  Mac squeezed his eyes closed, no longer even attempting to look the Unicorn in the eye.
 
“Something embarrassing, perhaps?”
 
“. . . Eeyup.”
 
“Something having to do with the Sisterhooves Social that Applejack and I were unable to attend?”
 
Mac sat down, eyes still closed tightly, and pressed a hoof to his face.  That was the only answer Rarity needed.
 
“Oh, Mac,” Rarity breathed, sitting next to Big Mac and putting a gentle hoof to his large shoulder.  “Mac, I certainly understand why you’d feel ashamed after that. After all, it’s not every day we see a stallion in a dress . . . .”  Big Mac visibly cringed, and Rarity quickly changed tactics, “Oh! W-well, that’s not to say you didn’t have your reasons! A-and I’m sure you looked quite fetching, darling!”
 
Big Mac let out a soft moan, and then it was Rarity’s turn to cringe.  Oh, dear . . . wrong thing to say . . . .
 
“Goodness, Mac. I do apologize, but please don’t be ashamed of the things you like just because of that one incident. Do you really believe wearing a dress and entering the Sisterhooves Social makes you any less of a stallion?”
 
“Well . . . nope . . . but . . . .”
 
“It’s all right,” Rarity stepped in during Mac’s pauses.  “Remember, you’re safe to speak. Everything you say stays in this boutique. I promise you.”
 
After another painful silence, Big Mac took a deep breath and began mumbling, still not looking directly into her eyes.
 
“Wearin’ that silly outfit . . . doin’ what I could for my baby sister . . . I don’t think I’m less of a stallion, but . . . everypony else . . . well . . . .”  Mac swallowed as the pain of his voice seemed to affect his tightly closed eyes and wrinkled face.  The simple act of speaking seemed to agonize him now.
 
“I see . . .” Rarity replied softly.  “You think the whole town believes you to be less masculine because of what you did.”
 
“E . . . eeyup.”
 
“And you choose to believe them?”
 
“Nope . . . but . . . .”
 
“But . . . you don’t want them to think that way, because it’s not you.”
 
“Eeyup . . . I just . . . I’m no sissy . . . but I like what I like, and after that . . . I can’t help bein’ one . . . .”  Big Mac opened his eyes long enough to blink, and a tear came sliding out and down his face.
 
Rarity pressed a hoof to her chest and felt her eyes tear up a bit.  Mac really was good at hiding things; holding back emotion was now getting as hard for Rarity as self-expression was for Mac. 
 
Big Mac suddenly got up, making Rarity jump.  “I should go,” he mumbled.  “Sorry.”  And with that, he swept the doll off the floor, stuffed it back into his collar, and turned and quickly made his way to the door.  He stopped when Rarity caught up to him, placing her hoof back on his shoulder.
 
“Big McIntosh, I want you to listen to me,” Rarity said sternly, but with a subtle softness.  “Wearing a dress doesn’t make you a ‘sissy’. Neither does having a doll. There’s nothing you could possibly do that would make anypony think that about you. You’re a strong, capable stallion, and don’t you dare let anypony convince you otherwise. Understood?”
 
Big Mac glanced back at Rarity, but did not speak for a while.  Eventually, he released a weak croak, “Eeyup.”
 
“Your disguise at the Social was nothing short of magnificent selflessness,” Rarity continued in her serious tone.  “No ‘sissy’ would have ever thought of going the distance the way you did that day. That wasn’t weakness, darling. That was love.”
 
Mac said nothing, but didn’t need to.  Another tear slid off his face onto the carpeted floor.
 
“And as for your little friend,” Rarity added, pointing to Mac’s collar and slowly grinning, “I personally find nothing wrong with you wanting to keep her in good repair. It means you care, and it means you want to help whenever you can. You wouldn’t have been there for Apple Bloom that day otherwise. It’s in your nature to care.”  Rarity brought her hoof to Mac’s face and turned him towards her.  “And caring about others never made anypony a ‘sissy’.”
 
At last, Big Mac looked into Rarity’s eyes, and she noticed his mouth turning slowly upward into a warm grin.
 
“In fact, a mutual friend of ours also needs a doll on occasion,” Rarity recounted.  “I won’t say the name, but let’s just say this friend is one of the bravest little souls I know.”  A quick vision of purple and green flashed into Rarity’s mind before she pressed on.  “And so are you, Big Mac.”
 
“You . . .” Mac hesitated, rubbing the back of his head with his hoof.  “You think so?”
 
“Darling, I know so.”
 
Rarity then reached out and hugged Big Mac, hearing a soft, surprised gasp from him and giggling lightly in response.  The silence in the air was irrelevant now, especially after a few seconds, when Big Mac returned her embrace with a contented sigh.  Rarity began to feel her face warm up from all this positive attention, and the same warmth grew in her chest, as well.  As flattered as she was to receive a hug, it felt infinitely better to receive a hug out of gratitude.
 
The two parted, and Rarity asked Mac something that had only now occurred to her, “By the way, Big Mac. What’s your little friend’s name?”
 
Mac looked back at Rarity for a moment, but hesitated no longer as he pulled his doll back out of his collar and looked at it for a few seconds, endearingly.
 
“Smarty-Pants,” he replied.
 
“Well, should the little dear ever have another issue,” Rarity beamed, “I shall always be there to repair her. So do be confident in bringing her to me, Mac, won’t you?”  When Mac hesitated again, Rarity added quickly, “After hours, of course, should you still require privacy.”
 
Mac sighed with a smile and replied, nodding, “Eeyup!”
 
“Hey, Rarity. Oh, hi, Big Mac!”
 
Both ponies turned to see Sweetie Belle cantering up to them, having just come from downstairs.
 
“Good evening, darling!” Rarity replied.  “Have you finished your homework?”
 
“Mm-hmm,” the filly answered with a proud grin.  “And I was wondering, do you think we could go out to dinner tonight? We haven’t in a while, so I—”
 
“Say no more, dearest!” Rarity grinned.  “I was just thinking the same! If you’re ready, just let me freshen up, and I’ll have us out to dinner forthwith!”
 
“Hey, can Big Mac come too?” Sweetie Belle asked, and Mac’s eyes widened slightly.
 
“Why of course!” Rarity said, turning to Mac with a hopeful smile.  “That is, if you’d like to, darling.”
 
Mac returned Rarity’s warm smile with one of his own.  “Eeyup.”
 
“Wonderful! Then I shall go prepare for a lovely feast out on the town! Do keep Sweetie Belle company, won’t you, Mac?”
 
“Eeyup.”
 
And with a toss of her royal purple mane, Rarity daintily trotted to the staircase, giggling when she heard Sweetie Belle ask, a bit tentatively, “Umm . . . Big Mac? Is that what I think it is?”
 
At the bottom of the stairs, Rarity glanced back and saw Big Mac glance down at the doll he held tenderly between his hooves.  Without question, he pulled it up to his face and nuzzled it as if it were a precious kitten.
 
“Eeyup,” he replied with a confident grin.
 



 
Thunderlane walked slowly through the streets, picturing that dress in Rarity’s boutique in his mind.  Even now as he left the now-closed boutique, he felt the nervousness and excitement grip him, feeling like a swarm of fire ants dancing all over his insides.  At the same time, he felt disappointed, and berated himself for everything going wrong.  He thought that going there just before closing would mean he would be completely alone, apart from Rarity.
 
He didn’t expect there to be somepony there.  Least of all a stallion.
 
Thunderlane’s failure made him rethink his plans.  He’d never be able to fake his way through it, anyway.  He wasn’t dating anyone, he had no sisters or female cousins, and he knew that if he tried to pass off a purchase of a twentysomething’s short, hot pink dress as a gift for his mother or aunt, Rarity would see the red flags go up immediately.  As exciting as it felt to be so close, the sobering feeling of walking away empty-hooved brought him down in a harsh way.
 
I’ll try again tomorrow night, he thought.  I guess I’ll have to tell Rarity the truth. But I doubt she’ll understand.  Nopony would really understand.  After all, who ever heard of a stallion who actually likes to cross-dress?  It’s silly.  She’ll probably laugh at me.  I know I would.  And I’m sure Big Mac would have if I’d actually bought that dress tonight.  Thunderlane felt a tight grip over his heart as he walked, and he released a shaky sigh, firmly holding back tears until he knew he was home.
 
Still, I have to try.  I just hope Rarity doesn’t think I’m some kind of sissy . . . .