//------------------------------// // Caramel -- Apple Turnovers // Story: The Album // by Peregrine Caged //------------------------------// Written by: Starsong Rated Everyone Caramel paced the Apple family kitchen and glanced between the counter tops. Freshly used bowls and pans still lined the counters, not to mention globs of escaped dough and bits of apple. Though he'd tried his best to keep clean, he'd still given the kitchen a fresh coat of flour. And the Apples, bless their hearts, had let him be while he made his third attempt at baking apple turnovers. He closed his mouth around the edge of the pan and opened the door to the oven with a hoof, watching his creation vanish into the glowing furnace. A draft of heat rushed from the open door and tickled his snout, and with it came the scent of thousands of meals and snacks baked in it before. He dropped the tray on the rack inside and drew in a deep breath. The Apples have had this farm for generations, he thought. How many pies have passed through this oven? How many ponies have walked this orchard? I've never been a part of something so immense. He sat down in front of the oven and watched through the window as the golden glow of heat brightened the corners of his creation. The first strike of baking brought out a sweetness to the dough. He'd gotten this far before, but the first turnovers fell apart as soon as he took them out. The second ones he'd burned to a crisp. This time he had to get it right. Caramel's friends always joked about his spaciness, and he couldn't entirely blame them. Not a planting season went by where he didn't manage to lose a bag of seeds or a hammer—once he lost an entire plow somewhere in the orchard. When he'd asked Applejack if he could borrow their oven, she agreed with the caveat that “ya'll don't take nothin' out of the kitchen, y'hear?” I'm not going to mess up again, he thought. But the familiarity of those words only made him more anxious. I've only got one more shot at this. Otherwise I'm going to make Sassaflash wait again. He looked in the window of the oven again. The sheets of pastry fluffed up under the heat, and then the fresh smell of apples and butter weaved its way into the kitchen. He heard the crackle and bubble of the filling. Good isn't good enough, he thought. It has to be amazing. Otherwise it's not good enough for her. No one ever said it to his face. That he wasn't good enough for his special somepony. But whenever they were together, people would always look at her. And then they would look at him. And then they would get this peculiar look on their face as if to suggest that they couldn't believe that the two of them were together to begin with. Caramel forced himself away from the oven. He picked up one of the bowls and smiled. One of the perks of picking things up with your mouth was that you got to taste it. On the other hoof, one of the problems with picking things up in your mouth was that you got to taste it. This time, though, it meant that he got to indulge in the guilty pleasure of raw apple filling and buttered dough. The excess of which over three attempts at making turnovers, of course, would go straight to his flanks. And no amount of bucking seemed to lean him up the way it did the other ponies. Still, that was one of the things she liked about him. She seemed pretty good at coming up with those. He dropped the bowls into the sink and then propped himself back on the counter with a sigh. She has a cute flank, too. And I like the way she laughs. The way her feathers tickle my face. The way her coat reminds me of the beach. She always seems to know what's going on and she never makes me feel bad for asking. It's always fun being around her... it would be nice if I could fly with her. But she doesn't mind being on the ground, does she? I hope not. I guess I could rent one of those balloons... she'd probably say I'm worrying too much, again. “Uh, Mister Caramel?” Caramel jumped and twisted towards the doorway. Apple Bloom peeked her ribboned head in from the doorway and glanced around the kitchen. “Yes, Apple Bloom?” asked Caramel, biting his lip. “I just wanted to check on ya,” she said. “I know you said you didn't want any help, but it's been an awful long time for just a couple of turnovers.” Caramel remembered the turnovers. He raced to the oven and pulled it open, coughing at the cloud of steam that rose from it. Please, oh please let them be okay... He reached for the pan but pulled back when the heat blasted him in the face. Then he retrieved the oven mitt, nearly swallowing the pad, and quickly pulled out the tray. He sat it on top of the oven and looked over his creation. “Well, that ain't half bad!” Apple Bloom said. Caramel's ears drooped. The turnovers smelled delicious. The golden pastry rose triumphantly, each triangular treat swollen with deliciousness and apple filling. And the tips had turned brown, with just a hint of black at the very ends. A charred scale of burned pastry marred the top of each. “They're burnt,” he said. “Aw, it don't matter,” said Apple Bloom. “Just take that part off.” Caramel smiled at her. She wouldn't understand. But he would have to accept them either way, because he was running late. “I'm sorry, I'll clean this up later!” he said as he scrambled to throw the turnovers into a cloth and then into a basket. He grasped the basket in his teeth and bolted out the door, leaving the distressed filly in his wake. He would apologize later. He'd scrub all the floors in the barn if he had to. Sassaflash was sitting under the tree in the park just as she'd promised. He dropped the basket on the checkered cloth and panted for breath. She didn’t wait for him to recover before throwing her forelegs around him and giving him a hug. “I'm sorry I'm late,” he said. The pegasus laughed. “You're fine.” Her eyes wandered to the basket. “What did you bring? More apples?” “It's always apples, isn't it?” he said, looking down. He unfolded the cloth and revealed the contents. A couple of bottles of sparkling cider, a few fresh apples, a bouquet of flowers, and the turnovers. Sassaflash lifted one of the turnovers in front of her muzzle and sniffed it. “Did you make these?” “Yeah,” said Caramel, sitting beside her in resignation. “They're burnt.” The pegasus took an enormous bite of the pastry and swallowed it. “They're delicious,” she said. “The crispiness makes them interesting! Thank you.” Then they put the rest of the basket in front of them, and she sidled up against him, one wing over his back. He sighed and leaned into her. She could always diffuse all of his worries in just a few moments. “So what's going on in the sky?” he asked. “Well, Rainbow Dash is on vacation for a week for some training thing, so Raindrops had to take over organizing the weather teams. But Dash already wrote up the schedules ahead of time, so now too many pegasi are showing up...” Caramel nodded, following her every word. He couldn't help but smile every time she paused to nibble at the pastry, at the way she licked the filling off of her lips. She didn’t mind that the turnovers were singed. She liked them. She liked him. That alone was enough.