“Do you ever think about doing something else?”
Big Mac shifted uneasily against the straw. “Nope.”
Shining Armor propped himself up and peered over at the stallion beside him. “You don’t? Really?”
“Nope.” Mac shook his head.
“Not even… like, daydreaming?”
“Nope.”
“Or… I dunno, you ever wonder if you had a different cutie mark?”
“Nope.”
“C’mon!” Shining threw his hooves up in the air and chuckled. “Work with me, big guy! You don’t ever think about doing anything else?”
Mac hesitated that time.
His brow furrowed a bit. Shining watched the gears of his mind begin to whir, slow and steady, as he truly considered the question.
It was Shining’s turn to shift uncomfortably as he watched Mac think. He had a slow and careful way of doing it, just like he did everything else, which felt foreign to Shining. His whole job was about action, quick thinking, and snap decisions. His wife was the thoughtful one, really.
“Nope.”
Shining sighed to himself, wistful and weary.
Maybe it was the barn. It wasn’t the best place to do any deep thinking-- more of a stuffy cupboard, only filled with musty smells instead of fresh linens and fabric softener.
Just beyond the barn’s walls, Shining could hear the thrum of cicadas. It sounded a bit like a synth, he thought; that low hum, a million slightly different tones coalescing into one, building and building and building before dissipating into the hot, dry air. Under it, the rush of wind in the grass and the leaves, like a distant rolling snare, or the collective breath as the woodwinds prepared themselves to play.
But the wind didn’t really get in here.
That was what made it hard to think.
“I sometimes think about being a comic book artist,” Shining said quickly.
Mac shifted forward, and arched an eyebrow in Shining’s direction.
Shining’s face went red. “Y’know, I… not that I’m an artist or anything,” he corrected, chuckling nervously through the thought. “I just-- well, I really liked comic books as a foal. I always thought it would be cool to come up with my own story and stuff.”
“Mm.”
Mm. Better than ‘nope’, but only just.
“You don’t have anything like that?”
“Nope.”
Shining Armor sighed again, this time pulling a mound of straw down over his face. “Twilight’s gonna kick me in the ribs.”
Mac snorted. “Why?”
“Why?” Shining repeated, clawing his face out of the straw to peer over at Mac. “Because I told her that I’d make friends with you? Because… we’re gonna be brothers-in-law soon, and she wants us to get along?”
“We get along.”
“I know, but-- I mean, more than just the bare minimum of getting along.”
“Mm.”
“I’m just trying to get to know you a bit,” Shining said. “For my sister. Doesn’t your sister want you to get along with me?”
Mac shrugged. “Never mentioned it.”
Shining sat up. “She never mentioned it?!” he repeated. “What is it you guys even talk about, anyway?”
Mac shrugged again. “Work,” he said. “Family, sometimes.”
Shining Armor scoffed. “Oh, sometimes…”
He collapsed back into the straw, and a small cloud of dust consumed his head for a moment. It made his eyes sting, and he tried to wave it away with one hoof.
Maybe this was the Apple family’s version of getting along.
I mean, for all he knew, any more than this was a marriage proposal. Now that he thought about it, Twilight and Applejack didn’t seem to talk much when they were together. They just sort of… sat near each other. Enjoyed each other’s company.
That was nice, he supposed.
Mac looked over at Shining, and a little chuckle escaped him. It was a deep, golden-brown sound, one that boomed through the barn with a power that rattled Shining’s bones.
“What?” he asked.
“You look plumb stupid with all that straw in your mane,” Mac said. It was, quite possibly, the longest sentence Shining had gotten out of him yet.
Shining Armor shot up straight, doing his best to shake the straw out of his mane as quickly as possible. The mussing of his mane seemed to coat his face in even more dirt and dust-- before he knew it, his eyes were welling with tears of irritation, and he was fighting back a dry cough.
Mac kept on chuckling. “Need a hose for that kinda mess,” he said, getting to his hooves. “C’mon.”
Shining paused, and watched as Big Mac wandered to the barn door and pulled it open. It made a ratcheting sound as Mac trudged along, door trailing behind him.
Racketa-racketa-racketa.
The evening sun slowly illuminated the scene, sliding along the dirt floor of the barn like a curtain. The massive dust cloud that Shining Armor had managed to kick up hung in shafts of golden sunlight, barely moving, as if suspended in water.
“C’mon, now,” Mac repeated, and the sun seemed to ring his head in a golden halo.
Shining was frozen to the spot for a moment, but at last managed to scramble to his hooves.
Mac smiled at that, and turned to lead the way out of the barn.
Out here, everything was sharper. Like rising from the depths of a warm bath, the sounds of the fields were suddenly twice as loud and infinitely more detailed. Shining Armor had to squint against the light of the sun and pin his ears back against his head to block out the noise. After a moment’s adjustment, he took a long, deep breath of the fresh air. It smelled… green.
It wasn’t a smell he had in Canterlot very often. Or in the Crystal Empire, for that matter.
“‘Round the side,” Mac instructed, though he continued to lead. “I’ll get it turned on.”
Shining sighed. He was beginning to feel even more like a foal who was having trouble making friends. As well as with personal hygiene, apparently.
The hose lay in the grass, coiled up like a big, green snake. Shining Armor lifted it up with his magic and began to untangle the knots and straighten out the kinks, but not before Mac gave the spigot a mighty kick.
Icy cold water shot through the hose, flinging the end of the hose out and up. A great arc of water flew up and over Shining’s head, and it rained down on him as a fine mist that he (embarrassingly) ducked away from.
Mac laughed again. “You need some help?”
“I got it…” Shining muttered.
He tried to get a steadier grip on the hose with his magic, though the thing still appeared to have a mind of its own. After a few unfortunate squirts right in the face, Big Mac reached over to close his gentle mouth around it.
The muscles in his neck went tense as he worked against the spray. Even so, he moved with slow and deliberate grace to stand over Shining Armor, his head stretched up high, raining down water in a burbling shower.
Shining shivered as the freezing water ran down his spine. He could feel it pouring down his sides in great rivulets, running under his barrel, dripping into the dirt. In only a few moments, he could feel the ground under his hooves getting soggy.
He looked up at Big Mac. “Thanks.”
Mac nodded once, slow and gentle, his soft lips still clutching the hose with perfect finesse.
Shining did his best to rinse the straw out of his mane. A few big chunks ran down his neck, but it mostly seemed to be the dust which clung to him so desperately, like little metal filings stuck to a magnet. He was sure there was some sort of scientific name for that but, for the life of him, he couldn’t think what it was.
After a minute or two, he stepped out from under the hose. “That feels--”
“Mn-mn,” Mac muttered around the hose, shaking his head slowly and furrowing his brows.
“What?” Shining asked. “Did I miss some?”
Mac nodded, then sat down in the dirt.
Before Shining could say anything, Mac’s hooves were in his mane, gently working through each lock of blue hair to rid it of dust and dirt.
Shining stiffened at the touch.
Mac did not seem to notice. He only worked slowly and methodically, guiding the hose’s stream with his neck.
His hooves were surprisingly gentle, though as Shining thought about it he realized he shouldn't be surprised. Farmwork was equal parts strength and finesse. Those muscles weren't worth a bit without some control.
Shining tried to look up at him, but found he could only glimpse the red-and-gold underside of his chin. Mac's nostrils flared in his peripheral vision, and he blew out a soft cloud of warm and humid air.
Mac made a small sound as he shifted the hose, and Shining watched as the red fur on his neck rippled against his tendons.
Shining swallowed the dust tickling at the back of his throat.
Was he… meant to say something? Should he be trying to make conversation? He was suddenly struck with the memory of a hundred mane appointments, wondering every time if he should close his eyes or leave them open, if he should try to speak over the sound of the shower head or just keep quiet.
What would he say, anyway? If he could say anything at all. The words seemed stuck in his craw, pushing their way forward and for Shining to cough and choke them back down.
Just as something was forming on his lips, Shining felt a nudge on the cheek.
He hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes.
Mac was holding the hose out expectantly, eyebrows raised.
“Oh.” Shining quickly took it in his magic. “Sorry.”
Mac said nothing, just lumbered over to the spigot again and turned the flow off.
When he turned back to Shining Armor, he had something of a wistful smile on his face. “Now that y’mention it, I like to sing,” he said.
Shining gave him a funny look. “Uh… yeah?”
Mac nodded. “Eeyup.”
“Huh,” was all Shining could think to say.
Mac smiled. “If’n y’come back tomorrow, maybe I’ll sing you somethin’,” he said. “And maybe you can tell me one a’yer stories.”
Shining blinked.
The water from his mane still dripped down his face, icy and cold and smelling so sharp and blue-green.
He swallowed. “O-okay.”
Mac snorted softly. “Y’look like a wet dog,” he said simply.
“I do?”
“Eeyup.”
Mac reached out and mussed Shining’s hair again, quick and firm.
“There y’are,” Mac said.
Shining couldn’t say a word. He could only watch as Mac walked away, the scent of ice cold hose water and wet dust filling his nose.
"Y'all want some more green beans?"
Shining Armor looked up at his soon-to-be sister-in-law, who was hovering over him with a large ceramic bowl.
He'd never seen Applejack with her mane down like this. It was like corn silk-- fine and shiny and so yellow it was almost white, voluminous to the point of appearing weightless (even if most of the volume came from frizz). She had also hung up her hat on a peg by the door, and the light from the frosted glass fixture over her head only served to soften her all the more.
She seemed weirdly… naked. The thought, silly as it was, had kept Shining very focused on his plate for the duration of the meal.
Now struck with this strange and familial intimacy, Shining Armor found he had already forgotten the question. "Uh…" He looked back down at his plate, hoping for a hint, but found none. "Um…"
"For pony’s sake, Jackie, you've already stuffed him to the gills," Twilight said, nudging her fianceé in the ribs. She leaned around the smirking cowboy to stage-whisper to her brother: "You don't have to say yes. She's just in country hospitality mode."
Applejack gave Twilight a loving and gentle shove. "Tsk, I'll ‘country hospitality’ you six ways from Sunday, missy."
Twilight giggled. She reached out to snake her foreleg around the back of Applejack's neck and pulled her in for a small embrace. Applejack ducked her head down to nuzzle at Twilight's mane.
"Oh, you two are the sweetest," Cadance cooed. "I always knew you'd end up together."
That made Shining laugh at last. "Cady, you always know who's going to end up together. It's kinda your thing."
Cadance swatted at her husband and broke out into her own small fit of embarrassed laughter. "Let me have my fun, Shiny."
Shining feigned a deep and weary sigh. "If you insist."
"I certainly do."
"Ooh! Princess Cadance!" Apple Bloom stood on her chair, forehooves on the table, tail swishing madly. "Who'm I gonna end up with?"
Cadance giggled again, a hoof held demurely to her lips. "I'm afraid that's going to have to be my little secret," she said with a wink. "Can't go messing around with the time-space continuum-- even if I'd really like to play matchmaker."
Apple Bloom visibly deflated. "Aw."
"Apple Bloom, you get your hooves off the table," Applejack scolded. "Were you raised in a barn?"
"Ugh." The youngest Apple fell back into her chair and folded her forehooves tightly over her chest. "I mean… yeah."
That made Twilight laugh, a bubbly and contagious enough sound that it was quickly passed down the dinner table to everypony else; even Applejack relented with an eye roll and a chuckle.
"Alright, alright-- I'll save 'em for Mac, I s'pose," Applejack said, placing the bowl of steamed green beans in the center of the dinner table. It made a soft thunk against the thick cotton tablecloth.
With that decided, Twilight withdrew her hoof from around her fianceé, and Applejack wandered back to her chair across the table.
Even as the lovers parted ways, there remained an air of closeness and warmth over the dinner table.
It was the sort of atmosphere which felt filled with raucous laughter and teasing, even when all was silent. As if the echoes of joviality hung over the table like a stormcloud, raining down droplets of peace and prosperity in moments of quietude.
Shining Armor reached for his glass of water and took a long sip.
The water at the farm tasted different. He figured that was because it was 'well water'-- he had heard Twilight mention it once or twice, insisting it had some effect on her magic or… something. Whatever it was, Shining hadn't quite understood, and the words had drifted in one ear and out the other.
It reminded him of the water from the hose. It probably was the water from the hose, actually. He figured that was how well water worked.
It tasted like crickets chirping. And wind in the tall grasses. Maybe a little bit of cicadas humming and that special brand of white-hot sunshine that cut through the murky summer air like a knife.
"Uh, speaking of…" Shining said. "When's Big Mac supposed to come in from the fields?"
Applejack twisted and leaned over the table to peer out the screen door. "Soon, I reckon. He's not one for workin' past sunset."
Shining peered out the screen door himself, noting the peachy tones which reached up past the treetops.
Twilight let loose with a theatrical gasp. "Does that mean it's working?"
"Huh?" Shining sat back in his chair. "Does that mean… what's working?"
"Are you two becoming friends?" Twilight asked eagerly. She clapped her hooves together and beamed. "That would be so great! I always knew you'd get along."
Applejack chuckled, a smooth and honey-like sound. "There's my Princess of Friendship. You 'n' Cadance really are peas in a pod, aincha?"
Twilight didn't respond, only stuck her tongue out at Applejack.
Applejack returned the rude gesture.
Shining eked out a weak chuckle. "No, no-- I mean yes, we're getting along, but--" He rubbed at the back of his head with one hoof. "I-I was just gonna warm up his food a bit."
"Aw, no need," Applejack said with a wave of her hoof. "He'll do that himself when he gets in."
"Yeah, but…" Shining shrugged. "I dunno, I figured it'd be nice. Of me. To do it."
Cadance smiled. "Oh, just say you're trying to make friends, Shiny," she teased. "I promise Twilight and I will only tease you behind your back!"
The princesses shared a knowing look and a suppressed giggle.
Shining scowled at the both of them--first his wife, then his little sister--which only served to make them laugh even more. Even the Apple sisters seemed to be fighting back mischievous smirks.
"Fine," he grumbled. "Yes, I'm trying to make friends with Big Mac. Happy?"
Twilight snickered. "Very."
Shining flicked his ear in annoyance and snatched the bowl of green beans off the table. "At your request, by the way."
"I remember!" Twilight insisted.
Shining Armor glared at his younger sister a moment longer before turning on his heel and marching into the kitchen, green beans in tow.
As he passed over the threshold, the ponies in the other room began to chat once more. Shining listened carefully as their voices burst forth, giggling and talking over one another for a minute or two before settling down into a quiet chat.
Apple family fillies. By blood or by marriage, they were all the same.
Shining sighed lightly and put the bowl of green beans down on the kitchen counter.
There was a window over the sink. One with a beat-up screen that peeled away at one corner, and a cobweb in another. Shining stretched up a bit, hooves on the edge of the basin, to look out over the scenery. The window looked out over the western orchards, the ones which dipped down into a valley and ran off into the horizon. From here, they looked rather fuzzy-- the leaves blended together into a great green ocean which rippled in the evening breeze.
Shining wondered briefly if he might need glasses. The worry passed, though, and he climbed back down.
The kitchen light was a lot more yellow in here than it was at his home in the Crystal Empire. Not that he cooked much. Mostly just putting things in the microwave or drinking straight from the carton of orange juice.
But the Apples didn't have a microwave.
He looked to his right, spotting the old gas range and feeling a swell of certainty. Beside the stove was a thin cabinet, and he pulled it open in search of a pot for the green beans.
The rattling of the metal pots and pans quickly overwhelmed all else-- the chatter from the dining room, the chirping of the crickets, Shining Armor's own grunts and grumbles as he rooted through the disorganized cupboard.
When he stood, pot raised triumphantly, he was met by a wall of red.
"Howdy," Big Mac said.
The screen door slapped shut behind him, banging gently against the frame four or five times before finally settling into place.
Shining nearly dropped the pot into the tile floor. "Mac!" was all he could think to say.
"Eeyup," Mac replied with a little smirk.
He brought the scent of musk into the room with him.
Shining wished he could place it more precisely, but the smell was as strong as it was vague. The smell of… farmwork. That was the only way he could think to define it. A dusty green smell with salted edges and an earthy finish.
Mac walked further into the room, his form towering over Shining's, the floor creaking under him. He sidled up to the basin sink and draped one elbow over the edge, then grabbed the hooftowel hanging from the faucet and mopped his forehead with it.
Shining suddenly couldn't recall what he was planning on doing with the pot he grasped in his magic.
"Big Mac?" Applejack called from the dining room. "You better not be usin' the kitchen linens for your sweaty pits!"
Big Mac said nothing, just laid the towel over his shoulder and winked at Shining.
At long last, it was Shining's turn to suppress a chuckle. "Uh… your sister saved you some green beans," he said, pointing to the bowl.
Mac leaned over and stretched his head up, examining the green beans in question. He made a face that bordered on approval, gave half a shrug, and tipped the green beans into the garbage on his right.
Shining grimaced.
Mac, however, nodded to the fridge. "Want a cider?"
“Um. Yeah, actually,” Shining said. He perked up a bit and stepped forward to take one of the amber bottles from Big Mac. “Thanks.”
“Mm.”
Mac pressed his bottle against the countertop beside him. With a small smack to the top, the cap popped off easily and clattered to the floor, followed by a small column of foam.
Shining looked down at his bottle quizzically.
Mac held out his hoof.
Trying to push past the embarrassment, Shining passed his bottle to the enormous stallion beside him. Once again, Mac used the edge of the counter to pop the cap off as if it were no harder than swatting a fly.
“Outside?” Mac asked, nodding to the screen door.
Shining blinked. “Sure. Why not?”
Mac nodded once. He then squeezed past Shining Armor and poked his head into the dining room.
“Oh! Hi, Mac,” Twilight chirped.
“We’ll be out on the porch,” Mac said simply.
“Alright,” Applejack said. “We get it. No girls allowed.”
More snickering.
Mac shook his head, grinning sweetly and peacefully as he turned back into the kitchen.
“C’mon, now,” he said to Shining, adding a small bump to his shoulder as he squeezed past once more.
Shining Armor found himself frozen in place, only able to watch as Big Mac lumbered through the kitchen and gently pushed the beat-up screen door open. It squealed as it swung outward into the evening air.
Mac looked back over his shoulder, and Shining Armor finally found it in himself to step forwards.
The pair of stallions meandered out onto the wraparound porch, and the door banged shut once more. It was much more humid out here, but also somehow cooler. Not quite need-a-spoon-to-breathe weather, but certainly edging up to it. This was more like those precious minutes of breezes and sharp, clean scents before a storm rolled in.
Big Mac knew exactly where he was headed. Even just watching him, Shining Armor got the impression that he spent most every dusk out here on the porch, watching the sun sink below the horizon and the sky turn a deep violet.
He sank down onto a bench against the house with a deep sigh and gazed out at the farm.
Shining paused. He wasn’t entirely sure why.
All it took was a brief, teasingly accusatory glance from Mac to get Shining to shuffle into a plastic lawn chair beside the bench.
Mac passed over Shining’s cider. He took it gracefully, but could not yet find it in himself to take a sip.
“Good to see you again,” Mac said.
Shining laughed. “I told you I’d come back.”
Mac nodded. “Mhm.”
It was hard to remember that ‘mhm’ was a good thing.
“H-how’ve you been?” Shining asked.
“Since yesterday?”
Shining coughed in embarrassment. “Uh… yeah.”
Mac shrugged. “The same.”
“Good. I mean, I guess that's good.”
“Mm," he replied, not bothering to allay Shining's anxieties. "You?”
“Um. The same, I guess.”
“Mm.”
And it was silent.
It didn’t take much to eclipse Mac’s volume. The far-off whisper of wind in the apple trees probably could have done it. Add to that the thrum of the insects and the occasional bouts of laughter from the dining room, and Mac practically melted into the landscape.
Shining did his best to watch the skies and the leaves, his eyes lazily tracking the occasional bird bounding through the apple canopies, but all things seemed to lead back to Macintosh. The wind blew in his direction. The sky glowed the same color as his amber mane. Even the dining of the birds reminded Shining of the farmer's promise to sing to him.
Mac kept his eyes closed. He breathed slowly and deeply. And so Shining allowed his gaze to linger on his face. To drift down to his hooves. To linger there, as well.
There was no use denying how much Shining wanted to be touched by those hooves again.
But deny it he did.
Mac's eyes flickered open and caught Shining's. The prince stiffened and averted his gaze as quickly as he could, though not before a chuckle could slide easily out of Mac's mouth.
If Applejack's laugh was Honey, Big Mac's was molasses. Deeper and thicker and darker, but more than twice as sweet.
Mac bent forward and placed his bottle of cider on the porch between his rear hooves. He then reached up, placed his forehooves around his yoke, and carefully tugged it off over his head.
There was a particular way it caught around his ears that entranced Shining Armor. The enormous stallion had to wriggle this massive piece of farming equipment back and forth very gently, flicking his ears to and fro, tugging rhythmically at the wood until it finally came free. When it did, he sighed contentedly, and slipped it down to lean against the side of the bench.
Shining Armor was speechless.
It’s not that the yoke left so much to the imagination. It was that… well, Applejack had seemed so exposed with her mane down and her hat off. This was something else entirely. He couldn’t even properly explain why.
Mac’s head rolled backwards, and he rested it against the aluminum siding of the house.
“You do any more thinkin’ about that story?” he asked softly.
Shining had to shake his head a bit to clear it. “The… story?”
“Your comic book,” Mac added. “You promised to tell me the story.”
His eyes were closed again. A tiny smile curled on his lips as he soaked up the breeze that rolled over him. His mane tickled against his forehead, thick orange hairs which were nearly substantial enough to refract the setting sun into tiny rainbows against his red fur.
“Oh. Right.” Shining squirmed in the lawn chair, desperately trying to recall any thought he’d ever had about that silly little comic book. “Gosh, I just-- well, I don’t think I ever really had a story, y’know?”
Mac cracked one eye open to peek at his companion. “Gonna be hard to write a book without a story.”
Shining sighed tensely. “I know. It was more of an, uh… an abstract dream of mine,” he explained. “Eventually, I was gonna--”
“No time like the present,” Mac said.
“Huh?”
Mac shrugged. “Just start talkin’. You’ll find it along the way.”