"What were y'all doin' last night?"

Bright Mac would say he was a family stallion. No reason why, though, he just felt he was. That's why, as soon as his wife tapped him on the shoulder while they were at the table, he leapt into action.

"What is it, Buttercup?" He asked. He only tended to call Pear Butter by her real name when their children, his brother, his sister-in-law and his nephew weren't there.

"Ah need to speak to y'all." She waited a few seconds and hung her head while blushing, "in private."

This struck something the stallion; his wife was normally a pony who's not ashamed of her actions, so what was this all about?

Bright Mac nodded, and the two of them walked out of the room, the chatter from the previous one disappearing. When did we get soundproof walls? He wondered silently. He closed the door, and Pear Butter started speaking.

"Y'all know how we said we wouldn't have 'nother foal?" She stated. It was a rhetorical question, she knew he remembered. But he nodded anyway.

"Eeyup."

"Well, it's mah time of month an'--" Pear Butter started, but was immediatly cut off by her husband.

"No, we aren't having another foal, Pear Butter." Pear Butter shook her head at Bright Mac's interception.

"It... it ain't that."

"What is it then?"

"Ah think it was mah time of month last night as well." She mumbled sheepishly.

Realization dawned on Bright Mac, "But last night we--"

"Ah know."

"So, that means--"

"Ah know."

Bright Mac drew in a sigh and then said, "Okay, let's not tell anypony yet, just incase y'all weren't."

Pear Butter nodded, and they walked back into the kitchen, and the chatter immediatly came back. She could hear Braeburn and Big Mac arguing about who the best buckballer was, Applejack talking to her uncle and Granny Smith telling them all to be quiet.

Bright Mac and Pear Butter sat down at the table and tried to start a conversation between them, but couldn't when Applejack turned to them and asked, "So, what were y'all doin' last night?"

Everything fell silent. A glass was dropped on the floor, a fork clinked off a plate and Granny coughed.

"What?"

"Y'all said when y'all were speaking in 'private', that y'all were doin' something."

"More like doin' each other." Whispered Bright Mac's brother.

"Apple Brandy!" The stetson wearing stallion hissed at his brother.

Brandy just smirked and blinked his blue eyes innocently. "What?"

Bright Mac was about to lecture his brother, when Applejack cut him off again, "Doin' each other? What does that mean?"

"Where did y'all hear that?" Big Mac asked his sister.

"Uncle Brandy just said it."

Braeburn looked at his father, "Did yer, Pa?"

Brandy blinked, "Well, yes, but none of y'all were meant to have heard it." He then glared at Applejack accusingly, "How did y'all hear it?" Surely he had spoken soft enough that she wouldn't have heard his statement.

The freckled Apple shrugged then asked again, "So, what does it mean?"

Pear Butter cut in, "Well, sugarcube, y'all know how Ah said we'd tell y'all how foals are made when y'all are older?" She paused, waiting for them to say no, and for them to just forget about it.

All three of the young apples nodded, their curiosity expanding within the growing minute.

"Y'all are on yer lonesome." Granny Smith said, walking outside and into the orchards.

"Traitor!" Apple Brandy yelled, trying to clamber after his mother, but tripped over his chair and spilled his three mugs of apple cider.

Bright Mac sighed and continued for his wife, despite the urge to roll his eyes at his brother's sniggers, "Ah think it's time we told y'all..." He hesitated, holding in a breath until he became lightheaded.

"Go ahead..." Big Macintosh urged. While he was the oldest of the three, he couldn't help but feel intruiged by this converstation; whatever his parents were talking about surely couldn't be the 'stork'.

"So, em, where tah start is th' question?" Pear Butter breathed out a laugh, hoping that the three foals would notice that this was something that was arkward to speak about.

They didn't.

"Well..."

A few minutes, empty silences and indepth detail later, it was explained.
Halfway through, Braeburn fainted twice, Applejack once and Big Mac just stood there, eyes plastered on the wall, unmoving.

"Wh-what's it called 'gain?" Applejack wondered aloud.

Pear Butfer cringed, "It's called sex, sugarcube."

The foals perked up at that, as if they had heard the term before.

The had.

Seeking the answers for the questions on all their tounges, Big Mac asked,

"So, y'all just fucked each other, then?"

Apple Brandy spat out his drink, Pear Butter tripped over her stumbling legs and Bright Mac's eyes bugged out of his head. Braeburn, Applejack and Big Mac just watched as the chaos unfolded.

He did not just--

" What. Did. Y'all. Just. Say?"

Big Mac glanced around the room and repeated, "Y'all... fucked each other?" He was confused. Fuck was a common statement, right?

He did.

Pear Butter stood up and marched over to her son, "And where did you hear that word?!"

"Braeburn taught me it."

Applejack coughed nervously.

Apple Brandy raised a lazy eyebrow at his son. "Ah suppose since Ah'm yer pa, Ah hafta' aske where y'all learnt it from, Brae."

Braeburn shuffled his hooves nervously and mumbled, "Oh, well, Ah, Ah learnt it from Applejack."

All eyes turned to the blank flank in the room. There was no need for a detective to see the ammount of tension in the room

Bright Mac leaned back in his chair, staring down his daughter in a sceptical glare, "Well?"

"Ah learnt it from The Vault in Our Hars, Pa."