Short stories about ponies and whatnot

by shutaro

I'll cover for you

This story has m/m shipping. Don't read it if you're squeamish about such things.

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Winter Wrap Up is in full swing and that means hard work. Not that I shy away from heart work. I’m an earth pony, heart work is what I... nah, ‘love’ would be too much. I could totally live the pegasus live: spending my days sleeping on a cloud, watching the other ponies work, and if anyone wants to push work my way, I’d just flutter away. Yeah, those winged ponies have it all worked out. So, I don’t mind work. Work is okay, I guess. I push my plow through the snow, and clear another lane. At least Winter Wrap Up isn’t the most stressful thing. We have so much downtime, we could probably just let the snow melt on it’s own.

I turn my plow around and look to the hill where Applejack tries to organize the chaos. Good luck, AJ. Even old Granny Smith didn’t manage to cut that Groningen Knot. I mean, what’s the fun in clearing the snow if you can’t use your plow to write messages or simple pictures in the snow. But with Noteworthy and Time Turner here, I doubt anyone will recognize my fifty horns cutie mark. Time Turner wrote something in the snow, but I can’t make it out from the ground. Probably a message for his pegasus marefriend. Lucky bastard. I wish I had as much …

I get shaken from my musings on the ups and downs of love and live when I see that little librarian ... ah, what’s her name again? Twilight something. Sprinkle? I spend some time trying to remember. But it doesn’t matter, because now I only see her derriere. Too bad I’m batting for the other team, or I might even enjoy that view. I throw a glance over to Noteworthy. Well, she’s found at least one connoisseur for the finer things in life. But how can such a little pony push so much snow? I mean, no offence, but a unicorn mare? Pushing more snow than an earth pony stallion? Me, Noteworthy and Time Turner are no Big Mcintoshs, but we’re no pushovers either.

Ahh, I get it. I couldn’t see it against the snow, but now her plow stands against the gray sky. I can clearly see the telltale shimmer of magic. A little cheat, that one. Well, Applejack will figure it out soon enough. I heard the two are friends, but if I know Applejack right, she will chew her flank out right and good for that little trick.

Oh, oh. What the … I guess her magic is running away with her and more important, the plow. There she goes into the big … Oh no! Not that huge snowdrift! It’ll …

I can only stare at the mess that’s come down on us. The whole field is covered in snow. Again!

I look over to Applejack, and though I can’t understand what she’s saying, her expression is clear. I almost feel sorry for the little librarian. Almost. And off she runs.

I try to keep a careful neutral expression as Applejack wriggles out of the snow. Noteworthy is leering again and, yup, snowball, right between the eyes. He just doesn’t learn it. I jump out of my plow and roll my shoulders and hip.

“And we just had it cleared. Five minutes, Applejack?” I ask with a sigh.

She looks over the whole mess. “Take fifteen, won’t make much difference anyhow. I’ll see how far Big Mac is over at the big south field and take over for him there. I’ll send him over here with the three pony plow.”

Again I keep my emotions carefully hidden. Just a weary smile sits on my face as I say, “Thanks, Applejack. But don’t you think McIntosh is working too hard already? I saw him pulling the big plow alone when I came here this morning. He was already working while everyone was at town-hall.”

Applejack frowns and I can clearly see the pain in her face. Torn between the wish to complete the task at hoof on time and the concern for her brother. “I’ll send him over after I make him take a break.”

She does her hat and I look after her as she walks down the dirt path. As I look around I spot Time Turner struggling. His plow is stuck in the avalanche. I poke Noteworthy in the shoulder, “Let’s help Turner get his plow, then we take our fifteen minutes.” He nods.

Just as we’re done with our break, I hear the rattle of the big plow coming down the path. And I can smell that scent in the air. McIntosh worked all morning. He glistens with sweat, even in this weather. Any other day I would just enjoy the sight. The muscles that play over his body, the blond mane, the cropped tail and his trademark yoke. And, of course, his unshorn fetlocks. I try and fail to suppress a shudder.

Noteworthy grins at me, “Freezing? Keep working, that keeps you warm.”

Again, no trace of emotion. I nod at Big Mac, he nods to Noteworthy, Time Turner and me. We haul the big plow onto the field and draw straws for who has to help Big Mac. I lose, lucky me. Time Turner even cracks a joke that my lucky cutie mark has forsaken me. McIntosh laughs with them and after a careful measured second I join in.

I take another cup of tea for warmth from my thermos as Mac places his saddlebags next to ours, and off we go. Noteworthy and Turner clear the borders and we take on the big plane. With Big Mac there is no foolin around, no pictures or sweet messages in the snow. It’s up, down, up, down, one lane after the other gets cleared. Before we even know it the field is half-cleared again. Not that I’d have spent any thought on how long this took. Just standing next to Mac takes all my composure. It helps that my hooves are freezing and I think I may be coming down with something.

We have just a few more lanes to go as Noteworthy walks up to Mac and me. “Turner and me are going down to the farm to see if we can help somewhere else. No point in us standing around and watching you sweat.”

“Yeah, Note. No point in watching stallions if you can watch mares, right?” I can’t help myself and throw him a grin. Mac cocks an eyebrow at me, then he looks at Noteworthy. Mac doesn’t say much, but he isn’t stupid. He knows exactly which mares were with us before. And another thing about Mac: he’s quite protective about his sisters. I for one wouldn’t be surprised if Applejack never found a stallion in Ponyville. Big Mac’s furrowed eyebrows are incentive enough for Noteworthy to practically flee the field. Time Turner waves a goodbye to us and follows him with a wide grin.

Sooo, Big Mac and me. Alone in a field. No pony for miles. I swallow hard before I look up to the bigger stallion. “Big Mac?”

“Eyup?”

“Let’s get this done, I think my hooves are falling off.”

“Eyup!”

Some half hour later the field is snowfree, again. We share a hoofbump and pull the snow-plow down to the path again. Mac turns and takes a look around. “Can’t wait to get sowing again,” he says around his ever-present hay-stalk.

“Yeah, me too. But first you’ll have to plow this field again. Not much point to sowing if there’s no furrow.”

“Eyup.”

Just two guys talking about farming. Nothing suspicious here, go and look for your scandals elsewhere.

As we walk back to our bags I notice that they have fallen over. Maybe the wind or an animal pushed them over? Or a stallion who thought Mac might tan his hide for looking at his sister in a funny way? Mine have not rolled far with the heavy thermos inside, but Mac’s have strewn their contents all over the place. Or what’s left of it. I recognize the fine gray dust: Grass seeds. The wind has probably scattered them all over Equestria by now.

I lift the almost empty bags, but I don’t turn around. “You carried those all day to keep last year from happening again?”

“Eyup.”

“Applejack had a pretty rough day. Even if the culprit is family, she will not be happy about this.”

“Nope.”

“I’d even say, she will be more unhappy because family should have known better.”

I hear a hoof pawing the ground. “Maybe.”

I turn around to face McIntosh. Never have I seen him so dejected. I mean, I moved to Ponyville after his parents died, but right now he looks like his little sister could floor him with a soggy white bread. I shake my head.

I peer into the bags. “There is still some left.”

“Not enough.” His usually strong voice is almost inaudible in the light wind.

“But there is still some left.” I turn the bags inside out and shake the bags until not a single seed is left. “And now I lost them all.”

I grin as Mac’s eyes bug out. This memory will keep me warm for quite some time. Maybe I’ll even draw it in my diary. Or maybe not, my heart may be a better place.

“You can’t …” McIntosh at a loss for words. This day get’s better and better.

“I already have. We’ll go down to the farm now, and you’ll tell your sister that I lost all the grass seeds you had left.”

“AJ will be pretty angry.”

I nod. “I’ve taken it last year, I can take it again.”

McIntosh looks at me for quite some time, then he sighs. “Eyup. I think you can.”

We take the bags and move the big plow back to Sweet Apple Acres.

When we arrive at the homestead only Granny Smith is there, and she is pretty angry. It seems that everypony went into town because something with the weather patrol isn’t right. I look up to Mac, and he nods. A minute later we are on the way to Ponyville.

I’m just helping out Big Mac here. The big guy’s heart would shatter like glass if his sister was angry with him.

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I sit in the huge tub of the Apple family, all the stallions that helped with Winter Wrap Up at the farm are here and we enjoy a bit of luxury. The boiler that normally provides heat for Granny Smith’s still gives us steaming hot water. We even get some of the product of said still. I probably enjoy the most luxury of them all: All of Ponyville’s hot stuff in one room, with wet manes and in the best of party moods. As the evening get’s closer the others leave one by one, until only Mac and me are left.

“Just me and you.”

“Eyuup.”

“I hear your sister is visiting one of her friends?”

“Eyuup. Twilight Sparkle, at the library.”

“Granny Smith?”

“Left for a trip in the afternoon.”

“Apple Bloom?”

“At Rarity’s.”

“The cows?”

He rolls his eyes. “On the far south field.”

“Winona?” now I can’t suppress my grin any longer.

A gust of fresh hot water hits me as Mac opens the boiler again. But I feel even hotter as I notice that I can’t see Mac’s head anymore. Then something big moves towards me under the surface. As I realize what he intends to do, only one thought passes through my mind.

I won’t be able come up with a face-saver for this.

Author's Note:

Yes, it's come to this: m/m shipping. And I don't even feel bad about it.
In case you don't like this: Sorry. Make TMP stop posting prompts from "RENT".
I shudder at the thought where this might end.

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The Prompt: “I’ll Cover You,” from RENT