Horseshoes

by Peter Yellowhammer

Shine All Four

Celestia's sun gently woke Caramel from a surprisingly restful sleep. Fully recovered from his self-pity, he recollected his plan for the day: he was finally going to buck apples after so many years of grieving that he couldn't. But first things first! He had to present himself properly. Placing his right front hoof on the tub of polish, he unscrewed the top fearlessly, savoring each centimeter it raised and spun. The lid fell to the nightstand, throughly defeated and yielding to the victor. No melting labels, no running paint, and no broken container. It really was the little things sometimes.

He pulled out a rough yellow rag. Collecting some of the cool, transparent gel, he grabbed the rag with hoof and mouth on each end and rubbed it slowly (but thoroughly) against his shod hooves. It tickled a little, as if the nails were being rubbed as well. One shoe, then the next, then the next to last, and then the bar shoe. After the last polish, he wiped the residue off the shoes with the other side of the rag. He walked out to the hallway window to admire his work: the metal was glimmering in the early morning sunlight.

Time to go to work. He was giving himself a raise today!

The first apples finally became ripe, and so he and Big Macintosh stood in front of their main objective as mid-morning stretched over the valley. Applejack seemed preoccupied with something, so Caramel volunteered to take her place for the harvest. She did seem a bit lackadaisical, though...

Meh. If it was important, it would be brought up later. He was far too anxious about this to distract himself. He made a note to remember exactly where the carts stood, getting a silent thrill at finally being able to pull one without getting winded or ruining the harness.

His beautiful stud cleared his throat. Merely thinking about it boggled his mind: the strongest, handsomest stallion known for miles and miles was his to boast. Not that he had to; just looking at the truth of the matter spoke volumes. Said strongest, handsomest stallion neglected to wear his glasses, though. Caramel supposed the occasion didn't require them, so he decided not to nag him just this once.

“Ah suppose we'll start with those two sections, circle 'round, and meet up in th' middle. We can buck th' rest tomorrow.”

Hehehehehe...

“Tomorrow, you say?”, teased the horseshoe twirler. “I don't think that'll be necessary. The two of us should have it done by lunchtime!”

He turned his head, relishing the exasperated face Mac was pulling. It was all too perfect.

“We're not super-ponies, babe, even with yer...enhancement. Ah don' care how strong you think we are, we cain't git through all o' that,” Mac illustrated with a sweeping hoof to the entire ripe part of the orchard, “in jus' two hours.”

“Oooooh, I dunnooooo...”, sang Caramel. “I'm willing to bet it's feasible. In fact...I'm willing to bet I can do it all by myself!”

According to plan, Mac looked completely unamused. It was almost time...he aimed his shot carefully while increasing rotation speed. He was lucky the route was so simple.

You and me, old Cheerilee. It's gonna be great!

“You listen t'me, Caramel,” announced Big Macintosh. “One pony plus hundreds of apple trees--”

“GO!” A silver blur rocketed from his hoof.

CLANG, CLANG, CLANG, CLANG, CLANG, CLANG...

Twenty seconds later...

...CLANG, CLANG, CLANG, CLANG!

Caramel caught the rebounding horseshoe. It left behind dozens of baskets filled with apples – from McIntosh to Red Delicious to whatever else that row held – as well as several dozen quivering trees. Cheerilee twirled innocently around his left front leg until he planted it ends-first in the ground.

“Jus'...doesn't add up...”

Caramel grinned the stadium grin. It made perfect sense to him now, embracing the freedom to be as proud as he wanted. He had certainly earned it.

“How do you like them apples, babe? Purdy good, huh?”

“...E-Eeyup. C-Caramel?”

Huh. I was expecting speechless, but I guess sputtering makes sense, too.

“Yeah?”

“T-Tell me somethin'. Could you do that before?”

Ah.

He supposed it would come up at some point but not that soon. It wasn't like it hadn't bothered him the first time he thought of it, just that...oh, what did it matter now?!

“Not really,” he answered. “I didn't have that much control before. But thanks to these babies--”

He clopped the front horseshoes together. They made the most beautiful sound every time he did that, ringing loud and clear even for numb ears.

“--I can make them do pretty much whatever I want! But within reason, of course. I couldn't clear out the ripened orchard in one throw, that would be ridiculous.”

“Nnope...”

Caramel sniffed the rich aroma around him. This was such a perfect day and opportunity to get the track-and-field champion wrapped around his hoof. Mac smelled even more like apples than usual, that sweet scent mixing with sweat – it sent chills down his spine. Of course, he needed more of the second ingredient.

“...At least, I don't think I could,” he crooned, strutting circles around his opponent. “I've never tried it.”

He looked at Mac: the lug actually looked nervous! With the glasses, it would have been perfect. Oh well. He enjoyed Mac turning head each time to keep Mel in sight, a simple expression of the power he had taken. It was the most adorable thing.

“W-Well, we cain't know now, can we? N-Nnope...”

Oh, this couldn't be more perfect if it tried. You're mine, Mr. “Shoes-not-Horseshoes”.

“Eh, you're right,” Mel admitted insincerely as he started walking over to the next row of the ripe apples. “It's too late to test.”

“E-Eeyup, heh heh!"

“It's just as well. It would be so embarrassing to hear how the strongest Apple was bested at his own game...”

Bad Caramel. What you're doing is wrong...but so worth it!

He heard a pronounced snort behind him. The ground shook from the impact of his boyfriend's hooves. He was sure he heard apples fall into baskets.

Uh oh.

“Keep dreamin', little horse,” shouted Big Macintosh. “Ah cain't be beat here.”

“Oh yeah?”, shouted Caramel as Cheerilee twirled again. “Well, bring it, sister's boy!”

The ground shook again, and more apples fell subserviently to the ground. Caramel actually saw a few miss the baskets underneath the trees.

“Oh, you done ASKED fer it now!”

Twenty minutes later, the third of the orchard slated for harvest was completely freed of apples. The filled baskets were now sorted at the stockpiles, both racers trying to gain the advantage as they rushed back and forth to get them there. Small cracks ran across the ground, some dotted with ruined flesh from errant apples. Rows and rows of green-leaved trees sat undisturbed now, offering shade for the former competitors as they rested on their stomachs side by side. Big Macintosh sighed: Caramel felt so warm and sweaty, and Caramel smelled very good.

“That...”, said Caramel once he stopped panting, “was a blast. These trees were singing once we were done with 'em!”

“Eeyup.”

Mac surveyed the scene: he had put all of himself into racing his little horse, pounding the poor earth in his furious energy. Even at the Stallions' Cup, he wasn't that fixated on winning; ambition came pouring out of him like it was always there. It wasn't just competing, he liked winning.

...And he felt fine with that. He shouldn't have felt fine with that; it was poor conduct that made him feel dirty in the worst way. But he did. As gut-wrenching as that day was, the cheers of the crowd made him feel as light as air, giving him a taste for wild praise. And here was his biggest fan, head inflated to three times its size with arrogance. Speaking of which...

“...Ah still say Ah won,” he said with a sneer.

“Oh, come off it! Those apples fell practically at the same time; I say let's just call it a draw.”

Mac replayed in his mind the last seconds before they ran to cart the apples: a swift stomp into the ground and the last rebounds of that one damn throw had the Yellow Delicious tumbling too quickly to observe. He seriously considered getting a judge for the next two thirds of the orchard.

“Hells, if anything, I probably won for carting half of them.”

“Whut?! Ah carted jus' as much as you, an' in better time!”

“Well, that's just because for one, you have years of experience--”

“An' don' you forget it.”

Did Ah jus'...? Well, so much fer bein' high an' mighty.

“--And for another, you should spot me some points for being a lightweight.”

“Oh, don' be absurd.”

“I can't haul as much as you! It's impressive that I could even keep up.”

Caramel was right. It was frightening how much stronger he had gotten in such a short time; Big Macintosh had to keep his eyes forward while pulling the cart just to keep from being unnerved.

“We weren't even keepin' score!”

“Not this time, that's true...maybe we should start scoring ourselves when we compete?”

Oh, skies above. If'n you start scorin' our private time, Ah quit.

“We'll just have to get Twilight or one of 'em to do it for the rest of the orchard,” stated Caramel with the Grin.

Oh. Ah guess silly ponies think alike.

The Grin was starting to seriously tick him off, especially since he suspected he did it just as often. But when he looked at the grinning madpony, he didn't exactly feel guilty anymore. He had found a rival to match him step for step, and that felt weirder than those confounded eyepieces making his nose itch. A rival with an inflated, swollen ego...

Pop.

“H-Hey, cut it out!”, protested Mel with clearly false anger. “I'm still a little dizzy, gimme some time before poking my head, heh heh. I don't have your stamina yet, big guy.”

...Yet? You seriously expect ta – oh Ah see now. Feelin' th' grind, huh?

“Nnope.”

“Blunt as usual,” said Caramel before rolling against him on the right side. “Give me a few more days and I'll be your equal, just you wait. I'm stoked for it! Those ponies will be beside themselves!”

But in a week? You shoulda made it in a month or somethin'! If yer really gonna try that, yer gonna wear yerself down! Exercise t'ain't some magic potion; it won't bulk you up in that short 'mount o' time, or at th' very least not without consequences. You jus' got drunk on th' attention like Ah did, you silly pony, an' now yer payin' fer it. Why ain't Ah sayin' this out loud, consarnit, Ah don' wanna hurt yer feelin's. Damn that Grin.

...An' you cain't git t'my level o' stamina, Mr. Lightweight. Not a chance, but it'd be nice if'n you could. You an' me, neck an' neck all th' way...Ah wouldn't hafta hold back. An' Ah hate t'think it, but that master bedroom really did look good, oh pony stop it deep breaths deep breaths not while his daddy's still alive. Oh shoot, he's lookin' at me, say somethin', anythin'!

“Eeyup.”

Heh heh...smooth.

“...You really think so?” Caramel sounded surprisingly worried. “You think I can do it?”

Tell him tell him tell him quit bein' so wishy washy an' be honest fer once! Whut's wrong with you, Macintosh?! T'ain't like you hold back on other issues! Spit it out an' git it over with!

“...Eeyup,” he answered with a smile.

Moron! Ah...Ah jus' cain't crush him again, even though Ah kinda need ta. Skies above, jus' seein' those eyes light up makes me weak...oh Celestia it's that smile, Ah'm meltin', Ah'm meltin' right into th' ground Ah've missed you Caramel Ah love you so much.

“You...you are so beautiful, babe. I mean with everything, you helped me out of that barn, you were so patient with me--”

Ah yelled at you, Ah gave you grief, Ah threatened you an' yer dad, even though he has it comin'...oh don' start cryin' you know whut it does t'me!

“--you worried about me when I should have worried about myself, you got my life together...you were just awesome for the whole thing, thank you so much Mac, I love you more than anything...!”

And that was it. Mac couldn't stay reserved anymore, rolling to his side and pulling Mel to him greedily. He had forgotten everything but his soul pressed against him, entangled in his limbs like he had actually raced to win the sweet little beige pony of his dreams.

“Ah-Ah love you too...Ah jus' want you t'be happy, Ah love you so much baby.”

He saw Mel smile like the sun, drinking in the sight before they both abandoned words and nuzzled each other. He felt himself melding to the ground, not wanting to move an inch in case it all shattered. All he could do was rest against Mel for however long as each breath pressed them together. The roller coaster had finally stopped.

Mel's hair was actually wet now, sticking to Mac's hide at the ends. To think it could have been like this so much sooner...well, that was what he got for being a dummy. But eventually, the sweaty hair made him itch, so he sat up and shivered as the shoes dropped away from him, letting the summer air rush over his sides. Those damn things had changed both of them so severely that it was hard to picture life before that doctor's visit. He still hated them a little. Mel looked nothing but content with them, though.

“Am sorry fer grievin' you 'bout th' shoes. Ah know it wuz petty, you jus' hafta understand--”

“It-It's okay,” interrupted Mel, taking a deep breath. “You were just protecting me, and that's why I love you.”

“...Really?”

“Mmhmm!” Mel pecked him.

You put me through hell, little colt. But it wuz sure worth it.

“That, and you're just amazing.”

Mac pecked the pretty pony back, nibbling the left ear as a response. No matter how many times he did it, it always enthralled him to Mel in spite of anything else. He craved the shudders underneath him; he teased the supple flesh mindlessly, effortlessly; and the cool shoes brushed against him, never failing to agonize his vigor. But it felt different now, shadowed with a hint of...shame? Maybe he was forgetting something important?

He opened one eye to scan the area: cracks in the ground would be hard to hide. That was the reason he never did it before. But he supposed some loose soil would mitigate it all. He moved on to clench Caramel's lower neck...only to feel that twinge again. Now what the hells could it be?

He looked Caramel over – being sure to linger on certain parts – but there were no bruises or anything from the teeth marks. He looked at the trees, but they were fine. The carts were where they needed to be; Applejack could take care of herself; the skies were blue; and the iron was hot! So what was bothering him so much?! He knew he had to discover it before he lost his nerve...and before it became too serious.

Mel pulled away from him with a sly smile. At least he wasn't disturbed by phantom guilt; that would be the last thing he needed. He had just gotten the little horse to smile from emotion not linked to posturing or painkillers or those freaky shoes or...well, that didn't count. But why the sly smile? That wasn't the usual signal, so it just confused--

“Hey, I'm hungry. Wanna get some daisies? Junebug should have a whole bunch by now.”

Daisies?

“...Umm...”

Caramel wanted daisies? After all of those apples they just harvested? Junebug? That didn't seem right somehow; why would Caramel want...daisies?

“S-sure, we can do that.”

“Great! I've had a hankering for a while, let's go!”

Big Macintosh felt butterflies in his stomach as they got up and headed for town. He was forgetting something, something subtle.

Junebug and daisies, Caramel and apples, white daisies, red apples, oranges, orange and white and beige...

He gulped.

Bullseye.

---

Caramel woke up the next morning in the master bedroom. He sighed at the lack of Big Macintosh, still unable to convince him to sleep there. The bed was ridiculously big compared to the midget of his old room, but it was also ridiculously comfortable with the satin sheets on which he had splurged. In any case, he had to get up; but he first made a sad farewell to the grey bedsheet which kept him so deliciously warm.

As he got up, the Iron Pony Competition occurred to him. More or less the same events would be hosted, the only real difference being the structure of the contendership. Instead of two ponies fighting for supremacy, several different ponies would compete against him in what was their top field. He supposed some of them would be competing with their special talents. But his own talent was so flexible and expansive now that it seemed like his talent was adapting to different demands. Did he have an unfair advantage?

Well, it was all in good fun. If he won, he won; if he lost, he lost. The point was to show how he was perfectly functional anyway.

He unscrewed the lid and shined his shoes, being sure not to miss a single spot. Tugging on the rag, he dragged the polish across the metal with care until the horseshoes were gleaming like the morning before. It was a shame how they got so dirty so quickly, but no way to avoid it was workable...unfortunately. He just made sure to make them shine as much as possible, savoring the moment's flickering sunlight. He fixed his hair. He was really beginning to like the hanging strands for what they were.

Time to go to school. It was just study hall, though.

Cheerilee had agreed to fill some gaps in Caramel's knowledge over the weekend, even though the conversation leading to that was enlightening in and of itself. It seemed his leaving school early motivated her to take over the school once Bully Pulpit retired: she felt that if she had to be disappointed about not being able to help him, then she didn't have to be for the next generation. He named his favorite horseshoe after her just because she was nicer to him than most, but now it seemed all the more appropriate.

“...And that's why ground-to-cloud lightning is really just a theory. If it actually happened, who knows what kind of mayhem it would have caused the founders of Pegasopolis?”

He suppressed a sigh. “Doctorspeak” was apparently not exclusive to doctors. He squirmed on the one stool in the classroom, refusing to get into the students' chairs. It made no difference that Cheerilee made no preference; he wouldn't be caught in an embarrassing position like that for any reason. That, and it brought back bad memories which already flooded his head.

“Well, that's all about history I can think of from the top of my head,” said Cheerilee with a giggle. “Any questions you have for me?”

Questions, questions...I can't think of anything. I always just asked about something whenever it came up, you should remember that about me from school. It's just not...hmm. Well, technically it IS a question.

“Just one,” said Caramel.

“Excellent!” She was beaming like old Pulpit. “What is it?”

“How come you and Big Mac didn't work out? I-I know it might be touchy or just old news, but...well, I'm curious.”

Cheerilee seemed a little peeved, which he expected. But she wasn't peeved enough to not answer, even pulling out a lock of dirty blonde hair from her desk. She considered it with a frown, and then she put it back with the other teacher things. Caramel imagined the hapless lock laying next to an opened box of chalk, constantly at risk of getting covered in the throat-clogging powder. He berated himself for getting sad over something so ridiculous.

“He and I...”, she trailed off while pacing the room, “we never understood each other. I wanted one thing, he wanted another thing, that sort of thing. We really liked each other at first, but in the end, we just weren't compatible. So there's really nothing to say about it,” she finished lackadaisically.

He peered carefully at her face, looking for any betrayal of emotion. She seemed genuine, but something still rang false to him...He figured it wouldn't hurt to ask.

“Why weren't you two compatible, then?”, he pressed. “Wanting different things isn't a deal breaker, after all.”

My relationship is proof of that more than anything, sheesh.

“...I'm not sure how to describe it,” she admitted. “I-I guess you could say we wanted a certain relationship at the time, but neither of us really knew what that was. We wanted to be together, but not to be obligated to each other, if that makes sense. It doesn't, does it...?"

“...Actually, I can kinda understand that. At least a little.”

Caramel thought of the bubble gum mare he sought of his own will. He certainly didn't want any obligation to her, just...something. Something that wasn't 'being lonely'.

Caramel inspected his shoes: still bright, but they were irritatingly scuffed. Some way to avoid that needed to be invented soon. Perhaps he could commission an inventor to make anti-scuff polish, or a permanent no-scuff spell? Wait, no, he had to focus, he had to focus.

“Not to mention,” Cheerilee continued with an awkward tone, “the whole potion mess reminded us of how much we didn't make sense together. I suppose...I suppose the best way to put it is we both felt like we should have been together, even though there was nothing between us for real love.”

Cheerilee giggled before adding: “Yes, I believe that's the answer. Love can sure mess with a pony's head!”

Mel considered his own obligations. All he really wanted from himself was to do well in life and not have anypony worrying over him. The latter was proven to be difficult, but he did his best to minimize any grief he had given Big Macintosh. Really, he did. He did as much as he could! Putting the pony over himself in every situation, except maybe for the shouting matches...and the shoeing...and the house buying...

No problem, not at all! Once the Iron Pony Competition is over, I'll hold up my end of the bargain. I won't be a leech anymore, not for anypony in anyway! New life, new autonomy! It's time to give back, time to--

“WOULDJA LISTEN T'ME, CARAMEL?!”

“IT WASN'T ME!”, yelped Caramel at the sound of Applejack's voice. It wasn't him? What in the hells did he mean by that?

“It wasn't you? Whut in tarnation do you mean by that?!”

He instantly flashed back to his days as a foal when he hid report cards from his parents and forgot about them. He was still puzzled by how they seemed to forget as well; maybe they didn't want to see them either? All he could do now was try his best to collect his thoughts and calm himself. Applejack wouldn't think less of him for taking time; he told himself that with each inhale, in and out, in and out.

“Sorry about that. I was just caught off guard; I haven't done anything except listen to Cheerilee. You need something?”

Upon his own mentioning of Cheerilee, he was struck dumb at her vanishment. Had he been zoned out for so long that she left? And why did he feel so sleepy despite not having fallen asleep?

“Look at me, Mel.”

Mel complied, keeping focused on her. The last free thought he had was how the schoolhouse seemed to make his thoughts fly freely.

“Ah jus'...wanted t'tell you Big Mac has gone t'Canterlot t'chat with yer doctor 'bout yer surgery. He won't be back until sometime in th' afternoon, maybe not even 'till supper.”

Mac with Doctor Cardio...why does that make me uneasy?

“Speaking o' which,” she added with a sudden smile, “you didn't hafta stop comin' by jus' cuz' you moved out. So long as yer not moochin', yer absolutely welcome t'eat with us, make no mistake.”

Caramel felt himself smiling like a big dope. Eeyup, it really was the little things sometimes.

“Oh, I know,” he said as he got off the stool. “I was actually hoping to come by tonight. I just wish he had told me he was leaving...”

Applejack blanched. Why did she blanch? Did it have to do with how depressed she looked yesterday, maybe?

“O-Oh, it was all o' a sudden,” she said after too long of a pause. “You know how it is: sometimes, you jus' gotta git up an' do somethin' t'do it. In th' meantime, Pinkie's gatherin' ponies fer a roller coaster party. Whut did she call it? Uh...A Roly-Pony Ricochet Riot. Ah gotta admit, th' slogan got me interested.”

“Hmm...”, mused Caramel. “I never got to try the one in Canterlot, so I guess it'd be nice to finally ride one! I'm there. By the way, are you okay?”

Oh yeeeeeah, real smooth. Idiot.

“Um...”, stammered Applejack, “Whaddya mean? 'Course Ah'm fine. Ah'm jus' peachy, haha!”

He felt painfully aware of how warm the room was as Mac's sister fiddled with her hat. One-on-one speeches and speeches for massive crowds just didn't sit well with him. But he doubted he would get anywhere with her anyway, if her sad eyes were any indication.

“You're lying...but if you really don't wanna tell me, I can't make you. I just hope it's not serious.”

Applejack lying...so much has changed, even you. Look at you fidget, it's a farcry from a tiny filly telling on me for messing with a plough harness. Great skies above, we're all grown, that's scary.

“...Thank you,” she said after a few ticks and tocks. “Ah don' mean nothin' by not tellin' you, it's jus'--”

“Eh,” he rebutted with a hoof wave. “I trust you, and I know what it's like not wanting to tell something to anypony. You'd tell me if Ah needed t'know, right?”

Just like that, her eyes lit up and color returned to her face, even though most of it was red.

“Now where'd you git that there fancy accent, pardner?”

Mel loftily brushed his hair back as he intoned: “Why, it's just the cosmopolitan way, dahling.”

AJ giggled. At least she thought he was funny.

“Come on. Pinkie's not th' waitin' type.”

“No, no she's not.”

And so he galloped with her to the amusement park, restored by popular demand and Fancy Pants' generosity. He tried a roller coaster for the first time. It was absolutely amazing. He went five more times, vowing to work out extra hard once he was done. He wanted to ride one with Mac next time, if for no other reason than to see the faces the big lug would make.

Was Mac wearing his glasses at the doctor's office?

“You cain't tell me you handled that professionally. You put mah little pony through a right hell from a fright, an' Ah'll grant it wuz a mighty fright, bless his heart. But if Ah had half a brain, Ah'd haul yer rear t'court. An' mah brain's full.”

Doctor Whutshisname sighed deeply. Truthfully, Big Macintosh couldn't make heads or tails of the court system, so he was just blowing hot air. But the sweaty pony didn't have to know that. Caramel could probably put it together, but that one was just too forgiving for the wrong ponies...Just hearing the incident described made him want to hug Mel and lock him in a box where it wouldn't happen again. If it wasn't one pony hurting him, it was another, it seemed.

If'n she told him Ah came here...Ah don' think Ah could handle bein' that angry. Haha, who'm Ah kiddin'? She ain't th' type.

His glasses still made his nose itch. But they made him feel smarter, so he brought them along. They helped him see the doctor's facial expressions better, too. Right then, sweat and stretched eyebrows formed a textbook cringe.

“That-that was a panic situation, sir. We needed to ensure the nails were set or he would have lost too much blood. If you were there--”

“Ah recall you mentionin' th' possibility of 'em bein' rejected with th' painkiller. Are you implyin' you had no contingency plan t'deal with that? Even a farm pony can tell that ain't how medicine is done.”

In that moment, he considered going over the judicial process one last time to see if he could file a suit after all. But Mel would object to it, and that was a fight he didn't want to have. If Mel didn't want to defend himself, there was little he could do about it...At least he could make the doctor suffer and use fancy words like 'impunity' with impunity.

...Wait.

What did that joker say?

---

Caramel woke up late the next day feeling depressed. As soon as his meaningless dream faded beyond recognition, he reflected on the disappointing dinner at the Apples. They were all courteous and friendly except for Mac, who was inexplicably silent.

He didn't want to say anything because it was fundamental for Mac to be silent...but it had a different energy to it. Caramel felt like Big Macintosh was being silent to him. Did something happen in Canterlot? He thought about the fuzzy 'mishap', but every time resulted in no new insight; this was no exception. The only possible insight was Mac himself, but the irritating lug just played with that ratty old doll. It was the first time he saw – what name did Mac give it?...whatever – at the dinner table. Mel just ate his dinner and glanced at the two playing pretend. He felt like an unwelcome guest.

But another day was another opportunity. Caramel swung his legs over the side of the master bed to shine his murky-looking horseshoes, wincing as the metal grazed the wooden frame. He reached with his left front hoof to grab the rag, which caught and ripped on the shoe itself. After taking a deep breath, he carefully removed the rag and even more carefully applied the polish. He felt lightheaded as he made sure to avoid the uneven nail and any other plausible offenders.

Time to eat. He had to stop skipping breakfast; it was becoming a bad habit.

Furnishing the house with food felt...lonely, so he decided to leave well enough alone until Macintosh moved in with him. In the meantime, he was fine with picking up odd meals from the market or mooching off the Apples. He tried to pay Applejack for lunch at one point, but she threw a fit over it. At least he made the effort. This morning, he decided to get some pears; he hadn't had a good pear in such a long time. The market was now void of the usual shoppers, having left earlier. This was the one section of Ponyville that was completely restored after the elitist takeover...it was a heartsick revelation to him every time he saw it, without fail.

“That'll be ten bits per pear, sir,” said the salespony.

“Hahahaha!”, guffawed Caramel. “You're funny, come on, what are they really?”

“Ten bits. I'm not one for jokes.”

Caramel stopped ruffling through the bits in his saddlebag. He had enough in that storehouse on the farm to buy out the pear stand for several months, maybe even longer. The bulge in said saddlebag was just noticeable to the untrained eye, while highly noticeable to a sleazepony. Uh-huh.

“Tell you what,” answered Caramel. “I've noticed your supply is still flush after the morning rush. I'll take all five of these pears for three bits, and you'll be thankful that I bought even one.”

The salespony nonchalantly looked askance to the pear crates. Something about the gaze made the haggler nervous about Winona guarding the storehouse. Theft wasn't a common crime in Ponyville, but he was seriously considering throwing those bits into a bank. Perhaps he'd group them with the majority of his wealth Fancy Pants insisted on storing in Canterlot for safekeeping. His utilities were being charged directly to that account anyway; he'd just take out a yearly budget for food and whatnot. Yeah. It would work out well enough...

All those strangers milling around the town with fat pouches and strange visions for the future: he was one of them. Even when he was a foal, he was never one of them. For a sick second, he found himself missing the old barn. Being a rich pony felt too weird.

“...Sir? I said you can have them. Take them before I change my mind.”

“Huhwha?”

“Oh, Caramel!”, giggled a mare. “Cheerilee said you were spacey lately, and she wasn't kidding!”

Caramel shook himself lucid to see Junebug collecting the pears and dropping them into his saddlebag. He paid the salespony without taking his eyes off her. She had her usual smile and her own saddlebag of morning glories. They smelled freshly cut; she smelled sweet. And he felt uncomfortable around her for some reason. Anxious, hot, and even irritated. She was sickeningly sweet, wasn't she? He had never noticed it before, but...yes! Yes, she really was!

“Yeah. Spacey...thanks for your help. So what're you doing here?”

“Oh, this and that,” she answered in that cackling baby voice. “It's a nice day to get errands done. Anyway, it's great that I bumped into you!”

Oh, joy.

“Why's that, then?”

He really hoped he wasn't broadcasting his evil thoughts through his face. She and he started walking away, which soothed his nerves a little. Before turning the corner, he was sure he heard the merchant mumble something like “cutie mark freak” before doing whatever. At least that pony was almost honest; and who could blame him, really? At times, he thought he could feel the three blue horseshoes pulling against the bar shoe, locking it into place like a prisoner. If that wasn't freaky, then what was?

“Well, it's funny really. I was talking to Big Mac early this morning, and he had the weirdest question for me. I was wondering if...”

Why's she talking with him? I guess a flower mare's gotta socialize, but why him? He barely looked me in the eye yesterday...just focused on that ugly doll.

“..it's just I think you would be better at helping him with it. It's a guy question, after all...I think. Come to think of it, I don't know why he didn't ask you first.”

She sounded confused. He liked that for some reason.

“Huh. Okay, what's the question?”

“...You okay, Caramel?”, asked Junebug with a frown. “You've been kinda curt with me.”

“O-Oh, it's nothing,” he answered with a sincere blush. “I just woke up on the wrong side of bed, don't mind me.”

Maybe that's all it really is...yeah. I like morning glories, really I do. They smell like Mom; they shouldn't be irritating me, nor should she.

“O-Okay,” said the flower mare. “He asked me if it was natural for a stallion to fall in love with another stallion. Like I said, I have no idea why he asked me. He seemed really anxious about it, though...”

...What?

“What?”

Junebug shrugged.

“It's not the sort of thing I really think about, either. I think you should talk to him, though, before he gets too wound up about it.”

And why the hells would you know how he gets wound up, stop it STOP IT geez Caramel...

Wait, no! Why did he ask her that and not me?! I could actually answer that question...once I've thought about it a bit. It's just...it's just stupid! It's asinine! It's underhoofed! It...it hurts. He confided in her instead of me. Is he trying to tell me something with this?

Caramel looked at Junebug's worried face. Stallions and mares, stallions without mares, morning glories, trust and intimacy, blush-red and sun-yellow and beige...

Pfft. That was ridiculous; the whole thing was ridiculous! Mel was letting the other day confuse his thoughts. He needed to get away from her and clear his head.

“I'll have to think about it, Junebug,” he answered. “In the meantime, I really need to get pumped for the contest. See you later!” He galloped with his pears away from the marketplace, horseshoes pounding against the ground. They were getting dirty, but he was going home to shine them again anyway. Caramel was not going to be caught with filthy hooves on the day of the competition, or preferably anytime that mattered.

“Okay, see you!”, she said with a wave.

I'd rather you didn't.

“I'll leave it up to you, AJ. Use them wisely.”

“Okay, Twi...take care, now.”

Applejack watched helplessly as Twilight trotted back toward the library. She was left with a letter addressed to Dr. Cardio, not wanting to think about the contents at the moment. The sunlight was shining harshly in her eyes, and she needed to clear her mind again. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't ignore it anymore. From Rick Shaw to Ace to Cheerilee to Ivy to her best friends to even the dregs of snobbery...it was all the same to her, just differently colored boulders. But why?

She paced around the thrice-organized shipment of apples destined for Fillydelphia as she remembered the Cakes. When she was little, they always seemed like the ideal of relationships next to her parents: calm, measured, warm, meaningful, long-lasting, involved, and productive. To this day, she saw them as paragons of livelihood. But nothing had changed as she had grown. It still seemed like a fuzzy dream, something worth pursuing yet unpursuable. No matter how hard she tried, she just wasn't interested in ponies that way...and she knew that because she was sure other ponies didn't have to try. Not a flush, not a flutter, not even a flicker in her eye led her to love that way or to desire the rite of progeny. But why?! Big Mac couldn't give her an answer!

It wasn't a problem, or at least not until now. She did what every Apple did: she worked the farm and sorted out as many problems as could have been sorted, especially during all the hullabaloo in the spring. But with all the drastic change came subtler changes. Pinkie Pie had found her somepony; her brother grew enough courage to seek his own out; Twilight had finally found her flicker; and Spike would never be the same. As much as everything flipped on its head and everypony transformed from the inside out, she had stayed the same. It was to protect the farm, to stave off the delusioned Oranges...or so she thought. Once it was all over, all she had to claim was what she had claimed before: a family pony, a business leader, and a delegate to tentative deals. She was a family pony without a family of her own, and it scared the daylights out of her.

Applejack took to watching other relationships, looking for some secret to bring her flicker to life. Each relationship had its own quirks and rules and expectations to be ployed and sometimes exploited. She knew every trick there was to make or break lovers' bonds. But tricks and rules didn't inspire her to seek it out for herself. They all looked like passion-sick kooks throwing all of themselves to the wind, hoping for somepony to catch them blindly. Even the happiest and calmest of couples – even the Cakes – seemed part of something alien.

She had absolutely no idea what to do now. None.

...Ah guess Ah should investigate these letters. If'n Twi thought they were important 'nuff t'be read, then Ah should trust her. Ah'll jus' skip past th' numbers an' junk here--

...and that should cover it. But if it's okay, I have a special request for you. For the pony that will actually shoe me, I would like it to be Maccabee Shine if that's possible. He'll understand. It may sound weird, but I just don't trust anypony else to do it. If you could make that happen, it would be so much better. Knowing him, you could probably find him working inside the mountains.

Eagerly awaiting your response,

Caramel

Maccabee Shine? That name rang a bell, but it was tough to tell which one. But more significantly, Caramel seemed to know a ferrier...or at least a potential one. This ran deeper than just requesting a doctor to perform surgery, and Twilight said that Big Mac may have needed to read this. Her head buzzed with the implications and the sound of hoofsteps. What she did now could really make a mess of things if she wasn't careful; she could feel it down to her bones. As if she didn't have enough to worry her already...

“G-Get outta the way, AJ!”

Caramel, speak of the devils, suddenly appeared in her field of vision, barreling past the entrance to Sweet Apple Acres. She had somehow wandered out in front of it...was she really that distracted?

“Whoa! Sorry there, Mel!”, she said as she jumped out of the way. Mel sped past her without another word, those weird shoes gleaming surprisingly bright with each gallop. Supposedly, he had thirty more laps to go until he was satisfied for the day.

Applejack still had to wait for her brother to help her heft the crates to the train (he didn't let her get away with doing it herself before, and he wouldn't do it now). She thought about how distant he seemed the other day. All he told her was that the 'mishap' was just a misunderstanding and everything was fine. Other than that, he just played with that old doll she couldn't get him to return to Twilight. Even if she tried now, it would be too awkward...but not like how it was awkward to see Mel trying to talk to him while Big Mac just ignored everypony. Just what happened, anyway? Did it have something to do with this letter?

...Aw, shucks! He's prolly jus' tuckered out from bein' so lively with his colt. He'd hafta stop t'cool off eventually. Wouldn't he? It's jus'...oh, who am Ah kiddin'? Ah cain't make heads or tails o' it. He's jus' gonna hafta tell me himself.

...In th' meantime, maybe Ah should chat with th' other half.

She walked in front of the entrance deliberately this time, spying the distant beige figure twisting and turning along the perimeter of the acreage. After a few minutes of nothing else to do, she saw him bounding with slightly less energy up to the gate...and stopped in front of it. The boy knew signals when given to him, good.

“I...I guess...”, said Caramel as he stopped for breath, “...that you...wanna talk--”

“Yes,” preempted Applejack. “Ah wanted t'talk 'bout Big Mac.”

She saw his wavering gaze focus and his face fall slightly. He was taking last night seriously, that was for sure.

“Can it...wait? I...really need to beat flanks here.”

“Not really, no.”

She caught a split-second glare from him, which quickly replaced itself with a polite smile. It was like reading the faces of the Oranges, maybe even worse because it was somepony she knew. A horrifying premonition clawed at her from the thought of it.

Was she losing control of her family? A conspiracy of madness, born from the hearts of her own...it was the kind of paranoia that killed her parents. She reclaimed herself in order to speak.

“Now Ah don' reckon you know 'zactly why he behaved th' way he did at dinner last night. But Ah do wonder if'n there were somethin' worth knowin' that you did. Know, that is.”

Caramel stared at her. Applejack stared back without reservations. The letter sat under her hat patiently.

“...I'm not sure what you mean. Are you asking if we're having a fight?”

“More or less.” She shouldn't have been obtuse in the first place.

“Since you asked, I have no idea!”, whined Caramel. “I only saw the lug as much as you did at dinner – and thank you again, by the way. I tried asking him about the trip before he went to bed, but he acted like I wasn't even there! It really got my...”

Oh, ponyfeathers. So he's upset 'bout that, too. Well if'n he asked, Ah'd jus' tell him Ah saw no reason not t'tell Caramel. He couldn't even give me a reason! Most ridiculous thing Ah'd heard all day that day!

“...really don't want to be reminded of that. Did...did I just say that? Please tell me I didn't say that!”

Whut?

“D-Don' worry 'bout it, sugarcube.”

The athlete-hopeful recoiled, seeming completely aghast at her. Gee willikers, just what did he say?

“H-How can you say that?! I can't just 'not worry' about bearing my soul like...”

Mel stopped and took a deep breath.

“...You know what?”, he said with a genuine smile. “If you're not worried about it, then I shouldn't be either. Thanks, AJ. You really know just what to say!”

Jus' count yer blessin's an' move on, girl. T'ain't worth th' consequences.

“Not a problem, Mel. Git on, now!”

“R-Right!”, said Caramel with a healthy grin. “I'll deal with that weirdo another time. See you around...literally! Heh heh.”

“See you! An' go easy on th' jokes there.”

The last she saw of him was a cringe before he started galloping around the farm again. Stressing over his boyfriend, calling him names, still thanking her for a simple courtesy, carrying some secret around that was reminiscent of last night...she was starting to wonder about him. He was normally polite around her; but there he was, hinting at some trouble brewing. Now she knew something bad would happen if she didn't act. When was her brother going to come help her with the shipment?!

“Um, AJ?”

She turned her head to see the pony himself walking over from the barn to heft a crate. He seemed completely bored, even a little irritated. He had a small morning glory between his teeth.

“Right behind you, big brother. We should still be able t'make it.”

“Eeyup.”

Applejack hefted her own crate on her back as they walked toward the train station. She was intensely aware of how hot the August sun was bearing down on her, brazing each step with the crate. After they were halfway there, she couldn't stand it anymore.

“Ah'm sorry Ah told him,” she confessed. “But he was gonna ask questions, an' it woulda come out eventually. T'be honest, Ah think you were jus' bein' silly...but Ah did break mah promise, an' Ah apologize.”

For some reason, she found herself entirely grateful that she wasn't carrying oranges. Big Mac didn't lose his focus or turn to look at her as he answered.

"Yer wigged out o'er this love dilemma, so Ah forgive you."

Suddenly, the August sun wasn't as oppressive to her anymore. She forgave Applebloom, and he forgave her, just like it always was. She should have known that would never change, heh.

"...You really mean that, big brother?"

“...Eeyup.”

After twenty minutes or so, the two of them had loaded the final crate of apples onto the train. Thankfully, they didn't put the conductor too far behind schedule, even though they made a point to wait between Caramel's laps. The train started up and left without a single issue. As soon as they left the station, his sister started as Big Macintosh let out a heavy sigh.

“Ah should talk t'Caramel,” he said with a weary-looking frown.

Applejack felt her muscles slowly relax. Finally, something sensible was about to take place! Now all she had to do was guide him in the right...direction...

Her muscles clenched again.

“Ah wuz jus' paranoid 'bout somethin', an' Ah shoulda told him th' truth. Ah'm sure it's nothin'.”

Her body temperature spiked. This was the worst time to break it to him, but it was also the only time left. It could only be one thing. For better or for worse, she made her decision.

“Big Mac?”

“Mmhmm?”

“...Before you do that, there's somethin' you should look at.”

Applejack gingerly took her hat off her head and turned it over, letting the letter fall into Macintosh's quick-drawn hooves. She watched him read it. His face turned from a perplexed frown, to a disgusted frown...and then to a face of horror...and then to a face that scared her to no end.

Big Macintosh was angry. Very angry. But he also seemed like he was about to collapse.

“U-Um...Ah wuz wonderin' if'n you knew 'bout this. Ah'm sure you--”

“Where did you git this?”, he asked in a disturbingly quiet voice.

She thought of Twilight and how she was a comparative weight disadvantage to her brother. Any interaction they had while he was like this wouldn't be remembered well, she knew that.

“Ah-Ah stumbled upon it. The doctor must have slipped it into that academic journal thingy he sent us by accident.”

Well, it was technically true. At least that was what she was told. Twilight didn't go too far into it...

“W-Why? Did it say somethin' peculiar?”

Big Macintosh said nothing. For some reason, Applejack thought of roller coasters.

---

Caramel woke up in a cold sweat on the day of the competition. It was another nightmare about being locked out of the Apple family home. If only Big Macintosh would show himself and Applejack would be straightforward with him, then he wouldn't be so nervous! Nerves were the last thing he needed, after all! Victory would just have to be good enough to soothe him.

He shined his shoes very thoroughly, disgusted at the marks that had formed overnight. Why did that always happen?! He rubbed and scrubbed and almost scratched them to get them to look right. Even when he was done, he wasn't satisfied. He took one look at his hair and decided to change it back how it was. Fake wet hair in a contest of strength, pathetic. The two silver medals seemed like a nice touch, though.

Game time. Those ponies were no concern of his today...and not for the rest of his life.

Comments

[JadeCriminal]

Description, Romance tag, Two male protagonists, strangely acting Big Mac... Smells like stealth slash.

*engage Slash Immunity*

*Puts on reading list.*

[Peter Yellowhammer]

503487 I wasn't trying to be obtuse with the description...just to tease a little I may change it, and that's not just because of your comment.

I'm glad you like it! It's hardly a pure romance, so I'd like to think anti-slash readers could enjoy it. If not, then that's something I'd like to know.

[JadeCriminal]

503664

Just add a slash warning or you Will get Loved And Tolerated... Spacebattles style. :P

Oh and I can't say I liked it, just that I will read it when i get to it... ( I have about 400k workload at the moment so it will be a few days XD)

[Peter Yellowhammer]

503692 Understood. I added the warning, even though it's a click away from immediate recognition -.- If they miss that, then at least it's not my fault they're misled anymore. Derp.