“A little bit more,” Flam said, stretching his little hooves out as far as they’d go. The metal pan hung tantalizingly above, just barely out of his grasp, and he redoubled his efforts, cursing his still short stature. “C’mon Flim!”
His brother let out a muffled groan and shifted under Flam’s back hooves, causing him to wobble alarmingly and reach out to the table to steady himself. He strained again, reaching up, his hoof brushing against the blue ribbon on the pie pan, and—
“Whatcha doin’?” a voice chirped out.
Flam froze. Unfortunately, his brother – whose back he was standing on – did not. Flim jumped, knocking Flam off balance and his forelegs windmilled to try and keep from falling. That’s when they finally managed to meet his goal, only much harder than anticipated.
The pie – the beautiful, heavenly apple-cinnamon pie – flew up into the air with a vengeance. Flam’s eyes tracked it as he fell to the ground himself, landing in a tangled pile of limbs atop his brother. The pie flipped end over end as it soared through the air, reaching a peak before inevitably beginning its descent back towards the ground.
Flam’s eyes slammed shut, unable to bear the sight. His ears flicked involuntarily, and he waited in dread for the coming sound of a horrible, wasteful ‘splat’.
It turned out to be more of a very quiet thud.
One eye creaked open and he looked up into a smiling orange face. And more importantly, over her shoulder, he could see the dessert safely situated on the young pony’s back.
“Y’all should be more careful! You just about dropped Granny’s prize-winning pie.”
Flam scrambled to stand up, straightening his bowtie. Beside him, his brother took longer, eyes still slightly dazed but still aware enough to instinctively raise one hoof and slick back his red and white mane.
Flam’s eyes narrowed as he studied the pony who had so rudely interrupted them. It was a filly about their size – maybe a bit younger, considering her lack of a cutie mark. She was a bright orange in color, with her straw-colored mane and tail tied back in a simple fashion. A smattering of freckles covered her face, and her eyes shined brightly as she smiled back at the two. And, of course, resting on her back was the pie.
“But hey,” she said. “Whatcha doing tryin’ to get ahold a’ this, anyways?”
A grin crossed Flam’s face as his eyes darted to Flim at his side.
A grin that faded after a distinct lack of appropriately convincing rhetoric. Flim stood stock-still, his mouth hanging slightly open. Flam coughed lightly and elbowed his brother right in the barrel, getting a surprised grunt in return.
“Um,” Flim said. “We were gonna eat it.”
“No!” Flam waved his hooves wildly. “He means to say… Our intentions are… Will you excuse us a moment?”
The filly’s nose crinkled in puzzlement as Flam dragged his brother a few steps to the side, throwing a hoof across his shoulders to bring their heads together in conference. The two began whispering furiously.
“—happened to the cover? You’re supposed to handle—”
“—can’t blame me. I blanked! I mean, look at—”
“—new plan: we run the Trottingham special, double-reverse the—”
“—don’t know. What if she catches on to—”
“—my job. Don’t worry, just hold up your end of—”
The two turned back to the perplexed filly, both smiling widely.
Her head tilted to the side. “Are y’all twins?” she asked.
“Why yes indeed, and I must say, it is a pleasure to make the acquaintance of a mare of such perceptive perspicacity!” Flim swept one hoof in front of himself as he bowed. “Might I inquire as to your name?”
The filly crossed one of each pair of legs in front of the other as she dipped in a curtsy. “Ah’m Applejack.”
“A delightful appellation for a delightful lady! I am Flim, and this is my brother Flam and—”
Flam’s hoof thunked the back of Flim’s head and he spun him around into another impromptu whispering session.
“—wrong with you? You’re not supposed to use our real—”
“—else would she know what to call—”
“—that is the point! Unless you—”
Flim fell silent for a moment. Applejack was busy mouthing the word ‘apple-lation’ with a slight frown.
“—change to the Fillydelphia approach, and make it—”
“But—”
Flam spun around and returned to his open grin. Applejack perked up again. Flim managed a smile as well, but stared off into the distance over her shoulder.
“Yes,” Flim said. “Flim and Flam. And we have been tasked with an important duty as regards that delectable dish. It seems there have been certain irregularities related to the confection competition and it must be tested for the presence of unnatural ingredients.”
“Why didn’t Granny come get it herself?” Applejack asked.
Flim’s teeth clicked shut. “Well. Yes. That is to say...”
“‘Less of course her hip is actin’ up again.”
“Yes!” Flim said. “That is precisely the reason, and how astute of you to guess! So we must deliver this pie to it’s intended destination—”
Flam piped up as he raised one hoof. “—Right over there, in fact—”
“—Right over there, in that delightful little cottage!”
Applejack’s eyes followed Flam’s gesture, and she peered at the ramshackle building way off in the distance, away from the grounds of the reunion and up the hill, nestled in close to lines of apple trees. “Y’all are supposed to take it to the east orchard’s tool shed?”
“Why yes.” Flim leaned over, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “It is a mission of great secrecy, you see. We probably shouldn’t even be telling you this—”
“—but you look honest—”
“—honest and dependable, the most trustworthy of fillies.”
“Oh gosh,” Applejack said. She raised one hoof in a salute. “Y’all can trust me for sure! We better get, before it starts gettin’ cold.”
Flam nodded sagely. “Glad to have your help, Miss Applejack.”
Applejack centered the pie on her back and marched off, hooves stepping high as Flim and Flam followed her.
The three weaved their way through the crowds of Apple family members, all of them cheerfully bickering and chattering without paying the young foals any mind. They had to veer around the dance floor, where a makeshift accompaniment of fiddle, banjo, jugs, and washboard had struck up a lively tune for a group of square-dancers, and pass by the line for the fritter table, where a heavenly, mouthwatering scent wafted by.
Applejack kept on walking, eyes straight ahead, and Flim and Flam trailed. Flam kept a wary lookout for any adults meaning to question them about their plans or cargo, but the only adults who seemed to take any notice glanced at Applejack and then returned to their own affairs.
“A good find, indeed,” Flam muttered to himself.
“Yep,” Flim said. He hadn’t stopped staring at Applejack.
After making their way past the big stage, they finally cleared the reunion proper, and the sound of music and conversation dropped away as they trotted on up the hill and towards the toolshed.
“So where’re y’all from?” Applejack asked as they drew near. “Ah don’t think Ah’ve ever seen you two at an Apple Reunion before. Or even a Hill Country Hootenanny or th’ annual Red River Rumpus.”
“That would be because it is rare for us to travel.” Flim’s head drooped. “Our poor, ailing father, whose name is, um—”
“—Wax Apple, bless his heart—”
Flim nodded. “—bless his heart—”
“Bless his heart,” Applejack cut in, dutifully.
“—rarely has the strength to travel far. So it is not often that we are able to leave our home—”
“—the great city of Manehattan—”
“—Manehattan! The big orange. Jewel of the Equestrian seaboard.”
“Oh, wow,” Applejack turned to the two, her eyes wide and shining. “Ah’ve always wanted to go there.”
“You would be toast of the town, I am certain,” Flim said. “Top of the list!”
“Ya think so?” Applejack’s hoof scuffed at the dirt. “Ah’m just a no account country girl. Ain’t even got my cutie mark. I reckon they’d laugh me right outta the city.”
Flim reached to take her hoof as he met her eyes, his face radiating earnestness. “Don’t say that. You’d knock their socks off!”
“They wear socks in the city?” Applejack said. “Ah don’t even own a pair of socks. Ah tell ya, Ah’m much too plain.”
Flim chewed on his bottom lip.
Flam’s gaze flicked between the two of them, and he sighed, loud enough to make sure Flim heard. He trotted over and raised his hoof to Applejack’s mane before briefly hesitating. “May I?”
She turned from looking into Flim’s eyes to tilt her head slightly. “Sure. But what are ya—”
He gently pulled the red tie from her hair. Her mane came loose, and Applejack instinctively shook her head, causing the golden hair to fall in a loose cascade that framed her face.
“Ah don’t see the point,” she said.
“You’re beautiful,” Flim breathed out. His face turned pink, and he looked away as his mouth kicked back into gear. “That is to say, I’m perfectly certain that a mare of your natural pulchritudinousness would have no difficulties amazing and delighting the many unrefined and, frankly, undeserving colts and stallions of Manehattan or any other environs.”
Applejack got halfway through mouthing pulchritudinousness and then shook her head. “Shucks. Thanks! I think?”
Flim nodded his head sharply, still deliberately looking away from her. “The pleasure is all on my behalf, I assure you.” He didn’t move, but his eyes kept darting to peek at her.
Applejack shook her head again, causing a fresh ripple through her mane. “Ah guess in the big city ya don’t have to worry ‘bout getting twigs stuck in your hair, huh?” A light flashed in her eyes. “Hey, if y’all are from Manehattan you must know Aunt and Apple Orange! Or maybe the Seeds?”
Flim turned to Flam just in time to see his brother give the slightest shake of his head. “Unfortunately, no,” Flim said. “You see, the city is such a large place. It is quite easy to get lost in the hustle and bustle.”
“Aw,” Applejack said. Her brow furrowed. “But... Y’all are Apples, right?”
Flim jumped slightly, standing up straighter. “Yes. Yes, of course! We simply happen to be one of the more distant branches on the old family tree, grafted in part through marriage. It is quite the tangled web of genealogical intrication, but of course, we are Apples nonetheless—”
“—kissing cousins, in fact—” Flam threw in.
“—kissing cou— erk.” Flim’s face flamed a bright red as he cut off with a sound like he had swallowed a bug.
Applejack turned to Flam. “Kissin’ cousins? What’s that mean?”
“It’s tradition,” Flam explained. “Means when you say hello, you’re supposed to kiss.”
“Really?” Applejack said, the slightest hint of doubt in her voice.
“Gerk!” Flim croaked.
“It’s Manehattan tradition, of course.” Flam grinned.
“Oh golly,” Applejack said. “An’ to think I didn’t know. I musta come off as quite rude then, huh?”
Flim caught his breath again. “N-no, not at—”
And then Applejack smiled, trotted up, and kissed him right on the lips.
Flam smirked as his brother turned pink, and then red. It was only when Applejack made no move back away and Flim’s face started turning purple that he took a hesitant step towards the two, worry dawning on his face.
Applejack finally pulled back from the kiss and her eyes swept down toward the ground. She kicked one foreleg against the dirt as a blush showed up on her own cheeks. “Ah do hope that makes up for—” She looked up just in time to see Flim topple over to the side, his legs still sticking straight out. “Eep! Are ya alright?!”
Flam appeared in a flash and knelt over his brother. “Give him some air!” he said.
Applejack backed up, but then trotted forward again, her head craning to look as her hooves stepped in place. “Ah didn’t mean to do anything!”
Flam looked up at her. “Listen very closely,” he said gravely, “I need you to run and get me a bucket of well water, three sprigs of parsley, and a four-leaf clover. Three-leaf won’t do!”
“Ah can get an adult! Ah—”
“There’s no time!” Flam cried out. “Hurry!”
Applejack galloped off.
Ten seconds later, she galloped back, carefully set the pie down off her back, and then took off again like a bolt of lightning, disappearing into the chaos of the reunion.
Flam grinned. “Not bad, dear brother. The old Baltimare Brush-off, and without even needing the idea from me! She’ll be out of our hair for at least twenty minutes, giving us plenty of time to enjoy the – aha – fruit of our labor, and then hit the road.” He looked down where Flim was still lying on the ground, staring off into space as his back leg twitched.
“...Brother?”
Applejack dashed back up the hill, as fast as she possibly could while keeping the bucket balanced on her back from falling or splashing too much. A few green leaves were clutched in her teeth, and a four-leaf clover sat tucked above her right ear.
She reached the toolshed, gasping for breath, only to find nopony there. So she ran around the entire shed twice, before thinking to look inside.
There, on the rough dirt floor of the shack, sat a single empty pie tin, licked clean of every crumb. Underneath the metal tin, the corner of a scrap of paper stuck out slightly.
It only took a moment for realization to bloom in Applejack’s eyes. The parsley fell to the ground as her mouth twisted in a grimace, and she took one faltering step forward, then another.
She stared at the pie tin a long time before taking a deep breath and reaching down to pull out the scrap of white paper. Her eyes went wide as she read the message written in precise, flowing hornwriting.
To Applejack:
I’m sorry.
- Flim
She blinked, the ghost of a smile appearing again. And then flipped the paper over. On the back, in nearly identical script, a second message was written.
To Applejack:
I’m not.
The pie was worth it.
- Flam