Applejack started moving before she was fully awake. It was an instinct, hammered in by years on the farm. No such thing as sleeping in when there was work to do.
Her life was a little different these days. Her knees bumped something warm and soft, which yelped at the sharp contact. That brought Applejack more fully awake, and she wrapped her arms around that something and nuzzled its red hair. “Sorry, babe.”
“It’s okay.” Sunset shuffled in the bed, pushing back against Applejack’s chest to form a proper little-spoon. “Don’t get up yet, it’s like midnight out there.”
“It’s four-thirty,” Applejack murmured. “You know today’s a farm day for me, I gotta move.”
Sunset pushed herself closer. “Fifteen minutes.”
Their hands met somewhere in front of Sunset.
“Deal.”
No time to go back to sleep, but it wasn’t wasted. Applejack had always been a girl who could relax and enjoy, never needing the modern-age flow of distractions to fight boredom. She was happy with a creek, a clear night sky, a playing animal...
...a girl.
She tried this once with Adagio, just sleeping in the same bed without much of anything. It didn’t go too well. Adagio didn’t know how to relax, didn’t understand the joy of just holding someone. They little-spooned for a bit, but Adagio’s hair got in the way something fierce.
Sunset, though. Sunset got it. She got it every bit as much as she didn’t get Applejack’s appreciation for… ‘yielding control’ when she felt a bit randy. Nice, soft pajamas, warmed by the body beneath. Applejack’s cute little nighttime cuddle-pony.
Most days she sure made it tempting to sleep in. Today, Applejack felt cold despite the blankets and Sunset. She shivered and sniffed wetly, toughing it out for the last few promised minutes instead of enjoying them.
Applejack supposed it was for the best. She pulled carefully away, mumbling a needless apology. Sunset had fallen asleep, and did not wake up.
Cold in the room as Applejack stepped quickly to the shower. Cold on the way back. Bit of a headache, so she snagged a few pills.
Still cold in her work duds. Little trouble getting fully awake, too. Sleep’s cobwebs sat heavy in her brain, and Applejack indulged in a second cup of coffee to try and chase it away.
Adagio puttered out in her bathrobe – an early riser, like Applejack. Not something Applejack would have expected, but the company was always nice.
Also unexpected was her greeting. “You okay?”
Applejack grinned through the cobwebs. Something must have shown. “Yeah. Just not waking up as fast today.”
Adagio stared at her levelly. One perfect eyebrow raised. “So don’t. Go back to bed. They’ll understand if you come late.”
“Nope,” Applejack said, and pointedly downed the rest of her coffee. “I backslide enough, what with the college and all. A couple days a month to help do what needs doing is the least I can do.”
She stood, shivered, sniffed. “Stupid dorm’s got the air conditioning cranked, or something.”
Adagio blinked slowly.
Applejack washed out her mug, threw on her hat, and stepped over for a kiss. “Later, Daj.”
The siren turned her head. “Not feeling it, sorry.”
“No apologies needed,” Applejack said. Balancing this whole… whatever between all of them took a whole heap of respect for boundaries. She settled for a smile and walked out.
Turning to close the door, she saw Adagio still watching.
When she looked through her closet that morning, Adagio realized she didn’t actually own any practical footwear. She settled for a pair of high-heeled boots, reasoning that at least they would protect her socks and feet from the mud. She took the bus as close as it ran, then walked the rest of the way to Sweet Apple Acres.
She’d been here twice. Enough to be comfortable letting herself in the house. A mess of odors assailed her – baking, hardwood, apples. Nothing like the dorm, or anyplace else she had ever lived. The wooden arms of the furniture were worn, and the wireless phone on a shelf seemed an invader amid the quaint surroundings.
“Y’all ain’t never heard of knocking?”
Applebloom peered out from the kitchen door, scowling adorably.
Adagio flicked her curls back. “Hey, squirt. Where’s Applejack?”
“Upstairs,” Applebloom let the word drawl out. “In bed. When she’s not running to the bathroom.”
“Figured.” Adagio blew an orange strand from her face.
Applebloom huffed and glared. “So why’d you let her come? She’s sick!”
Adagio let silence answer. Applebloom looked away. “Okay, yeah, I get it. Applejack is Applejack is Applejack, stubborn as a rooster in spring. She won’t call nobody herself, saying she just has to take a few to shake it off. Give me Sunset’s number and I’ll ask her to come help with the work. Or Rainbow Dash, or someone.”
“I’m right here,” Adagio said stiffly. “I can...”
She hesitated, then followed through. “...Help.”
Applebloom raised an eyebrow.
“What!?” Adagio snapped.
“Look, my sister’s been real bad at hiding that she’s porking you on the side...”
“How old are you?” Adagio cut in.
“Fifteen.”
“Awww...” Adagio cooed. “Applejack’s innocent little sister knows the birds and the bees! I remember when you were just a little tyke who spread embarrassing internet pictures and framed others for it.”
“Anyway,” Applebloom growled out. “The short of it is I know a fair bit about you, and I ain’t wearing love-goggles to tint the view. You’re more frou-frou than Rarity, and that’s saying something. Ain’t no way you can do what needs doing, so call Sunset. She’s reliable.”
“Hey, I’m plenty re...”
Adagio held in the lie. She gave a hard breath out. “Look, I’m here, aren’t I? Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it, no problem. You guys run a business, for Discord’s sake. You have employees to do all the messy parts, right? I won’t be mending fences or slopping pigs or whatever.”
Applebloom grinned, showing her teeth.
“Don’t B.S. me kid, I know for a fact you don’t keep any pigs.”
“You’re right, there,” Applebloom conceded. “But wrong for the rest. We get seasonals in for the harvest, plus a stock manager and business agent, everything else is just us. We got maintenance to do, products to make, and trees and animals to care for. Not stuff for someone with long, dumb fingernails like yours.”
Adagio shook her head. “I didn’t stutter, kid. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”
Applebloom folded her arms. “Why not call Sunset?”
“I said I got it,” Adagio replied sharply.
“Why?”
Adagio paused, then spoke carefully. “She’s my friend, duh.”
“I’d believe that from Sunset,” Applebloom said.
“But not from me.”
“You said it,” Applebloom shrugged. “Why not just call?”
“Because. I. Got this.” Adagio thrust out a hip.
Applebloom studied her flatly for a second before answering in a matching voice. “Okay. I don’t rightly know what your deal is, but here’s mine: Granny and Mac are downstate on a business trip. It’s just me and Applejack, and if her end of things doesn’t get done it all falls to me. I’m going to lose my free Sunday and probably have to skip a few days of school working to catch up. I have an open invitation from the whole Rainboom crew to help if help needs doing. So I’m really curious why I should gamble my Sunday on some chick with a manicure and an attitude problem.”
“I don’t have an attitude problem.”
Applebloom raised an eyebrow.
“You’re as good at that eyebrow thing as your sister,” Adagio said. “Fine, sorry about the Anon-A-Miss dig, okay?”
“Thanks, but that wasn’t an answer.”
“I’ll give you five bucks.”
“You want to pay me so you can put in a 12-hour day on the farm.” Applebloom shook her head, blinking slowly. “You know what? You slack off and I’ll take that five bucks outta your hide, but fine, have it your way. I’ll start you on the west fence. Go fetch some gloves and a scraper and I’ll show you what to do.”
The kid let Adagio stop up with Applejack first, but a very large part of Adagio wished she hadn’t.
Applejack was pale, sweaty, and sick. She nested in disheveled blankets, surrounded by used tissues and a bucket with an unpleasant odor. She still wore her work jeans and shirt, leftover from the delusion that she just needed a minute, five minutes, an hour…
Not a state Adagio had ever seen her in. That was alright. What wasn’t alright was the face: Applejack’s normally bright green eyes were dull, and as they noticed Adagio her listless expression turned to anguish.
“I’m sorry!”
A shrill, guilty bawl. Adagio froze as Applejack fell to sobbing.
Something about it made Adagio snap. “Shut up! You’re sick, it happens.”
“Not to me,” Applejack mumbled. She hugged one of the pillows, curling down over it. “I’ll get up soon, you’ll see. Don’t do anything.”
“You’re sick,” Adagio repeated. She growled and shook her head. “Dammit, you were half-green this morning, I should have… nevermind. I’m doing your chores. Just get better.”
“No!” Applejack howled like a toddler in a tantrum, burying her face in the pillow. “That ain’t how this goes. Just a few minutes, you’ll see. I’m the strong one, the dependable one. It’s what I need to be, it’s all I am! I ain’t even a dead dog without it. Just, just hang on. Don’t worry your pretty head none, I’ll be up and at them in a jiffy.”
She shuffled feebly on the bed, seeming to drift in and out of consciousness. Adagio didn’t watch. She turned from the room and fled, doing all she could to blot the words from her mind.
Work, yes, she needed work.
The fence didn’t need a full new paint job, but rain and exposure had taken their toll. Applebloom showed Adagio how to scrape out the splintered or rotten parts and patch on a new layer of white paint.
Then Applebloom went off to her own chores, leaving Adagio with a fence big enough to surround Canterlot High.
Hot, obnoxious work, with a lot of bending and interruptions. She could only hold the scraper awkwardly with her long nails, resulting in a thoroughly half-assed job until Applebloom checked back fifteen minutes later and gave her ‘one more chance.’
“You guys have a bathroom?” Adagio cut in.
It took three more renditions of ‘No, seriously, I got this,’ to convince Applebloom to put away her phone. Adagio’s timing could have been better, but a short walk back to the house brought her to the porcelain throne room.
She opened the mirror, scowled. Of course Applejack didn’t have a nail file, like every other woman on Earth. Just clippers.
Well, Adagio could pretty herself up later. She briskly clipped down her purple-painted nails then went back outside. Lots to do.
The change made things easier. Exposed and discolored wood was replaced with fresh white, over the course of only a few hours. The sun rose higher, hotter, turning Adagio’s voluminous hair into a sticky, itchy mess.
She stopped in the house for water and new orders. Applebloom didn’t exactly compliment her, but at least she stopped yacking about calling in Sunset. She also passed off a wide sun hat for Adagio to use, and mentioned that maybe, possibly, she should consider borrowing some shoes that did not double as piercing weapons.
Adagio accepted the hat, proudly declined the latter. Her stiletto boots were Hemline Specials, thank you very much.
Applebloom shrugged.
Then grinned. “Fair, fair. Look, I’m doing my best to set you up for success, here. It’s me that gets egged if you mess up, so I’m giving you the stuff that doesn’t need as much experience. I’m handling the animals and kinda the business side of things today, you need to pull weight on the grunt work.”
She passed over a large metal drum, still grinning. “Your next job is to replace the septic tank in the Kirin’s outhouse. Hose it down too, and replace the soap dispensers.”
Sweating and grunting to carefully dislodge the used poop collector, Adagio irately kicked the first curious Kirin away. “Beat it, furball.”
The second one to investigate wore a cheery grin uncommon among her kind. “Hi, Adagio! Taking out our poop?”
The tank was stuck tight. Adagio stepped away, fuming quietly. “Okay, this is bullshit. You are sapient creatures, you can clean your own toilets.”
“Aw geez, I’d love to, but...” Autumn Blaze held up a clawed hoof, smiling sheepishly. “No thumbs.”
“Magic?” Adagio grunted.
“Oh, right! Twilight said Equestria’s Kirin can like levitate and stuff, but… heh-heh, not us. Sorry. To be honest, Applejack’s the one who asked us to use this. Kirin poop can set a dry field ablaze.”
“Oh, friggin’ sweet.” Adagio again bent down to try and carefully unbolt the drum of high-explosive poop from its mount.
Autumn stayed, watching her another minute before piping up. “Speaking of Applejack, she’s usually the one who does this. Is she okay? Does she need help, or cuddles, or–”
“No,” Adagio snapped, more to shut up the cat-horse-lion-thing than any desire to explain. “She’s sick. I’m taking over.”
“Ooooooooh,” Autumn said. “I gotcha.”
Silence. Adagio smiled, intent on her work.
“But it’s weird that you’re here.”
Adagio sighed quietly, repressing thoughts of murder. “Why is it weird that I’m here?”
“You don’t seem like the type.” Autumn sniffed a little at her. “With the hair, the perfume and all, you’ve got more artificial products than an American grocery store.”
“Well, you’re not wrong,” Adagio mumbled.
Innocently, Autumn went on. “You know, I think I’ve seen all her friends help out on the farm except you. I guess I had you pegged for one of those ‘casual friends,’ you know? Someone to have fun with and maybe make a little kissy-face for a while, but then inevitably move on because your lifestyle is too different and you’re not willing to be a part of her life except when it’s fun for you, so it all stays shallow and casual, slowly getting stale until you drift apart to your next superficial relationship.”
Adagio’s eye twitched.
“It’s really weird, though, because I don’t think she’s ever been too sick to work, so this is kind of a big deal. And I know you’re trying your best and that’s really great but you won’t be able to get all her work done, she’s like a super-farmer. Have you called the others to come help you? I’m sure at least Sunset would come, she’s really great and gives the best belly r–”
A silver dagger embedded itself in the tree by Autumn’s head. She had blinked and missed the throw, only catching Adagio retract her hand to keep messing with the outhouse.
Autumn swallowed. “Whelp, looks like you’re busy! I don’t want to distract you so I’ll move along. Take care!”
The outhouse was a good half-mile out into the property. Adagio wobbled as she came back to the house. She kicked off her boots then collapsed into a chair.
Applebloom looked up from a work desk. “Awesome. Next is...”
“I need a shower first,” Adagio cut in. She had avoided any disasters with the poop drum, but the smell somehow lingered, and she was a sweaty mess regardless.
“Yeah, no. It’s not even lunchtime.”
“Fine,” Adagio said. She wiggled her toes, looking down to her once-pristine Toity socks. “Hey, get me those work shoes.”
Applejack’s proved entirely too big, but Applebloom’s spare boots fit just fine. Adagio looked up from putting them on to find Applebloom presenting her with a shotgun.
“Corpse-tree duty.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Friggin’ third time this year,” Applebloom grunted. “One of those bastards popped up in the riverside field. They got like this hole in their trunk that summons zombies that are also seeds, gonna choke out the whole orchard if we let it slide. I’ll get you the kerosene, you’ll need it after taking out the zombies.”
The brittle, decayed wood of the corpse tree barely needed the kerosene to be set ablaze. Adagio conscientiously gathered the zombies nearby to be burned as well, all with either shotgun wounds or sharp stabs into their heads.
She breathed in, taking in the scent of burning wood. A job well done.
“Huh,” she mused. “Applejack’s right: farm work does feel good. Some of it, anyway.”
...Applejack.
Lunch was a thick slice of ham with mustard and veggies on rye. Not her usual, but Adagio wolfed it all the same.
She moved quickly to the stairs, skidding a little on the hardwood. “Gonna see what the patient wants to eat.”
A sly grin and glance. “If that’s a sufficiently productive use of my time, boss.”
Applebloom waved her on. Adagio dashed up to Applejack’s door.
Reached for the knob. Paused, took a deep breath. Pushed.
The blubbering had stopped. It wasn’t better. Applejack laid still and quiet in the stale air, looking blandly to Adagio.
“Want some soup?” Adagio asked, putting on a casual air.
Applejack bent her head to a bottle by her pillow. “I got water.”
“It’s lunchtime,” Adagio said, unable to quite hide her impatience. “Come on, talk to me. Grilled cheese? Soup? Cereal?”
“Ain’t worth it.” Applejack rolled over to face away.
Something boiled out. “Seriously, Applejack, what is your problem?”
“The million dollar question,” Applejack mumbled.
“I know for a fact the others have helped you on the farm before.”
“Helped,” Applejack said. “Not did it all for me.”
“You’re sick. You’re sick. You’re sick.” Adagio repeated. “It’s cool. It happens.”
Applejack droned on. “I get it. You’re frustrated. This is how I really am and I know it ain’t much, so I just want you to know that when you end up moving on I won’t hold it against you. You and Sunset are so good and pretty and I’m just a workhorse who can’t even work. You’re too good for some messed up redneck crybaby who can’t even–”
The door slammed.
Adagio ran. Cursing. Crying.
“What the hell is with her?”
She skid downstairs. Applebloom was gone, small mercies. Adagio buried her face in her hands and shook for a long, long minute.
The world was blurry when she looked up. She wiped her eyes.
What was wrong with that woman? With… Adagio? Her throat burned to complain. To scream. To find out how to fix that self-pitying loser upstairs back into the Applejack she knew and… liked.
...Well. Adagio only had one friend she could talk to about this, didn’t she?
She took out her phone, tapped the name, and held it up to her ear.
Sunset answered on the second ring. “Adagio, what’s wrong? Do you need me?”
A twitch ran through Adagio’s body, and she screamed. “No I don’t need your fucking help!”
A few seconds passed, then Sunset answered. “Yeah, that’s exactly what someone who doesn’t need help would say.”
“Well I don’t, okay? I don’t need you to bail me out and be the perfect friend who is good and empathetic and hardworking and everything else I’m not. I got this.”
“You go, girl,” Sunset said. “Mind telling me what it is you got? Because I think this is actually the first time you’ve ever called me and I’m more worried now than when I picked up.”
Adagio breathed out hard, managing to catch and bottle her temper. “It’s Applejack. She’s sick and I’m trying to handle her chores.”
“Oh, shoot. Do you want me to come up and...”
Maybe Sunset could feel the sudden chill through the phone. “Never mind.”
“But that’s not the problem,” Adagio hissed, picking up steam again. “She’s being all mopey and shitty about it. She won’t eat, she’s making herself out to be some dog-shit waste of space...”
“Oh,” Sunset said.
“I mean, what is with her!?” Adagio vented. “She has regular sex with the hottest woman on Earth AND you! How the hell can someone like that have low self-esteem?”
Sunset groaned softly into the phone. “I… don’t know exactly, okay? I can’t diagnose her, and she doesn’t like to talk about what she sees as her weaknesses. From what I gathered she has or had depression, and sometimes takes meds for it.”
A hesitation. Then, “I’m not her therapist or anything. But near as I know, she lost her parents at the start of high school, and then a few months later she lost her friends because… I hacked their texts. She basically threw herself into work for the next year until Twilight showed – no friends, no parents.”
She gave a dry laugh. “I think Miss Redheart once told me that normal, happy people with normal, happy lives don’t become hunters. That follows, doesn’t it? You, me, Wallflower, Twilight, we’re all a little fucked up. It’s easy to forget that Applejack is, too.”
“Well, how do I un-fuck her?” Adagio asked.
“You can’t cure feelings,” Sunset said. “And if she’s sick, maybe she’s stuck wallowing in them. So be there for her. Let her know it’s okay to feel bad. Let her know you still love her.”
Adagio huffed and threw back her curls. “I never said I love her.”
“Adagio, there’s a time to be a tsundere siren and a time to be the girlfriend she needs.”
Adagio laughed, herself. It felt good. “I suck at mushy stuff.”
“Time to learn,” Sunset said. “Didn’t you just tell me that you got this?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Adagio grumbled, but her lips tugged upwards. “Smart-ass. But hey, Sunset?”
“Yeah?”
Adagio wiggled her hips, smirking cattily. “Look, we’re pretty emphatically ‘just friends’ who happen to share a babe. But just so you know, I’d let you fuck me if you asked.”
Sunset sighed on the other end. “Question: is this an invitation, or a roundabout way of asking to fuck me?”
Adagio wasn’t sure how to answer that, so she hung up the phone.
She needed a few minutes before going back. Adagio puttered, wandering the house. Hardwood, glider chairs, and hand-sewn quilts. A comforting aesthetic. Fashion aside, Adagio always had a fondness for the classic over the modern.
And here, an unused room on the second floor. She closed her eyes, hugged herself. Plenty of space for a piano, a violin stand, a writing desk. She could work here when not touring, maybe even record from here with the right tools. She imagined herself hard at work, composing the masterpieces that even now were taking form in her mind.
A cup of coffee, comfortable jeans. Then, by surprise, a pair of strong arms hugging her from behind.
She pictured that life going on for years. She saw herself with silver in her hair, and didn’t find that quite as scary as she once did.
...If that’s even how it works for disempowered sirens. Adagio sure didn’t know. But that was alright.
The door downstairs opened, announcing Applebloom’s return.
She could deal. Adagio was never going to get all of the work done in one day, so she’ll come back tomorrow. Wouldn’t do to screw the kid after trusting Adagio this far.
Until then…
The door opened. Applejack didn’t turn, didn’t watch. Didn’t want to be seen like this. Didn’t want to be seen.
She felt the bed creak behind her as someone got in. Soft yellow arms gripped at her shoulder, hugging her as best as they could. Breasts pushed against her from behind, into the sweat-starched shirt.
“It’s okay, sweetness,” Adagio murmured from the other side. Nub-nailed fingers ran through Applejack’s hair. “You’ll get through this.”
“You should go,” Applejack mumbled. “I’m no good right now.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
Adagio hummed listlessly, snatches of songs both imagined and remembered. She stroked at Applejack’s hair, scratching the nails gently along her scalp until both sorrow and sickness faded into dream.