"Toniiiiight I'm gonna have myseeeellffff a real good time..." The blue pegasus punctuated the first lyric of his favorite song by doing a double barrel roll, pulling it off effortlessly as he sped from Canterlot. Soarin' had a reason to be excited. For weeks he had been trying to make time for this trip, but the air shows, celebrity appearances, and the endless practice sessions meant to keep his skills sharp had sucked up every second of time. By the time a typical Wonderbolt day was over, he was too exhausted to do anything but grab a little supper, followed by a post-supper snack, followed by a post-post-supper snack snack. Most nights he went straight to bed after this, completely missing out on his super-late just-before-bed snack, which rated as one of his top three favorite snacks during the day, after post-breakfast and mid-noon, of course.

But ever since that fateful night weeks ago, when Canterlot Castle was thrown into a chaos he had never seen before, he had been haunted by the one shining light of that night. An image of beauty danced through his dreams, taunting him with the distance that separated them each and every night. He remembered the moment he dug his muzzle into the pie's soft crust, tasting the perfectly cooked apples, neither too crispy or too mushy. The sweetness was overpowering, yet tasted completely natural. Since the Grand Galloping Gala, he had been plotting his chance to get away for an entire night so that he could make the trip to Sweet Apple Acres and stock up for the next month. Well, maybe a week.

Tonight was that night. Soarin' had it all planned. He would show up on the farm and reintroduce himself to the cute farmer he had bought that first pie from. She would remember him, they would talk for a while, and then he'd flash her his winning smile and offer her however much she wanted for a night of baking. It didn't have to be only pies. He was sure that any of the other items on that cart would have been just as good, if not better than the one he picked because of its sheer size. And money was no object. There are some things in life that you can't put a price on: family, friends, pursuing your dreams, and delicious baked goods.

About this time, Soarin' snapped out of his pastrycentric reverie and realized he had actually overshot Ponyville by a few miles. "Whoops!" he shouted to nopony in particular, and did a 540 degree spin over the southern end of the mountains. He zeroed in on the farmhouse and put on an extra burst of speed, before diving at the welcome mat, and landing with the grace of a dancer. He ruffled his mane with his hoof, shaking out the excess sweat that collected in his long navy tresses during his trip. "Time to turn on the charm," he said, shifting his goggles to his forehead.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Soarin' planted his hooves and stuck out his chest in his best Wonderbolt pose. One of his favorite parts about being a part of the team was the reaction he got from mares when they first saw him in his uniform, and even though the mare from the Gala had seen him before, there was always that moment of awe that still made him smile from ear to ear. Any moment now, she would open that door, and he'd have conversation with a lovely mare and freshly baked apple pie. Quite a night. Any moment now.

Any moment.

Hmm.

He knocked again, louder this time. It was a big house, so it wasn't unreasonable that she didn't hear him. He was pretty sure she wasn't out in the fields, not this close to sundown. His ears were pretty acute, and he was pretty sure he would have heard someone bucking trees if there were any actual farming going on at the moment. However, he did hear a thumping coming from inside of the house. Maybe the thumping was drowning him out? He didn't want to stay out here all night if there was someone in the house who could let him in. Soarin' stomped his front hooves nervously, wondering if he could take the next step without potentially offending somepony. "There could be a problem inside," he rationalized. "What if somepony is in there dying, and I'm just sitting out here waiting for them to open the door? What kind of scandal would there be if a Wonderbolt let a helpless country mare perish in her house? I HAVE to go in!" But despite his new determination to be a hero, he still gulped and entered the farmhouse slowly.

The first thing Soarin' discovered was that the thumping was actually the pounding bass of music. It was coming from a room across the hall, but the sound of the drums coupled with the yelping of the "singer" (he wasn't so much singing as speaking) was already fairly overpowering. As he made his way slowly towards the kitchen, less worried about the somepony overhearing him, the music reached an almost deafening level. He peeked his head into the doorway and saw both the radio whose speakers shook with the music, and the pony who was enjoying it.

Soarin' couldn't help but smile watching the dancing pony from behind. This wasn't the farmer pony that he had met at the Gala. This was a bigger mare with a lighter coat and a brown mane that only reached as far as her withers. She was preparing something on the counter with her forelegs, but Soarin' could see her head bobbing to the beat, and her rump was swaying with the music. He couldn't help noticing that while she was a little bigger than her blonde relative, she was still quite lean, and he found himself mesmerized by the bouncing of the three horseshoes that made up her cutie mark. As the song progressed, she seemed to lose interest in her meal and focus more on moving her body with the rhythm. Soarin's expression changed from a small smile to an open-mouthed gape.

If he had been able to see himself, ogling the oblivious dancing pony, he would have been shocked at his behavior. He would never approve of voyeurism, and he would certainly not have approved of his first words in the house: "Those were some pretty good moves you had there." But any shock he would have received was matched and exceeded when the pony turned to face the peeping tom. For a moment, they just stared at each other, neither of them knowing what to think. Soarin' was the first to break the gaze as he looked closer at the pony in front of him. The eyes. The jaw. "Dear Celestia."

The tan stallion's dark blue eyes were wide as saucers, and he was breathing heavily. As he regained his composure, his expression of shock and fear changed to one of anger. "Who are you?" he yelled at Soarin'. "And what the rut are you doing in my home?"

The pegasus tried to back up, but found his hooves refused to cooperate with his brain. He was paralyzed from the neck down. "I'm... I'm Soarin'... and I'm a Wonderbolt?" The last part of his introduction came out sounding like a question.

"And Wonderbolts break into ponies' houses now? Is that some new trick you're working on?"

Soarin' swallowed. "No..." He tried to laugh off the comment, but there was nothing in the other stallion's face that suggested he was in the mood for jokes. "Look, I thought something might have been wrong. I knocked and nopony answered. I was just making sure that... everypony was alright." He tried to smile one of his trademark celebrity smiles.

The other pony snorted. "Everypony is alright. So now you can go." He tossed his head in the direction of the front door.

Soarin' looked around at the otherwise empty kitchen, despite both the music and the shouting, they were still alone. "Do you have a sister or something? Orange coat, wears a cowboy hat?"

The stallion eyed him suspiciously. "You sound like you're talking about my cousin Applejack. What do you want with her?"

"She was actually the one I came to see. I met her at the Grand Galloping Gala."

The earth pony smiled and suppressed a chuckle. "You're the Wonderbolt who bought her pie."

Soarin's jaw dropped. "How could she..."

"You were her only sale that night, amigo." He smiled and held out his hoof. "Maybe we should start over. The name's Caramel."

The pegasus took Caramel's hoof and gave it a firm shake. "Soarin'." He looked around the room again. Still nopony. "Where is Applejack right now?"

Caramel turned back to his food on the counter, and resumed his preparation of a daisy and apple salad. "I'm afraid you've missed the entire family. Applejack and Macintosh are making a shipment to Fillydelphia, and Granny and Apple Bloom went with them to make it a little vacation. They'll be back in a couple of days." He glanced back at Soarin'. "You planning to ask her out or something?"

Soarin's eyes grew wide and he shook his head. "No, nothing like that. I just wanted to see if I could buy another of those pies."

Caramel chuckled. "She does make a good pie. But like I said, she's not here." He punctuated his statement with the final chop of the knife on the cutting board. "But if you're just here for a freshly baked pie, I can probably help you out, provided you've got the means to pay for it."

"You cook, too?"

Caramel held out his completed salad for Soarin' to see. Soarin' wasn't really a fan of salads as a whole, but the one in front of him looked better than any he'd ever seen before, even at high-priced Manehattan restaurants. His excitement was dashed as Caramel whisked the bowl away and stuck it inside the refrigerator. "My lunch for tomorrow. Hooves off." He smiled at Soarin'. "I bake too. All the Apples do. Are you good for it?"

Soarin' couldn't nod fast enough. "Absolutely. I brought enough for the pie and I brought a lot extra to compensate you for the time you spend making it." He turned around, preparing to leave the kitchen. "I'll just hang out in the living room so that I'm out of your way -" He stopped when Caramel snorted.

"Really?"

"What?" Soarin' asked, genuinely confused.

"Soarin', you're lucky that Applejack isn't here. If you'd come here, asked her to make you a pie, and then left her in the kitchen like some housemare, I know you wouldn't have left this house without at least one lump on your head. For all your love of our food, you clearly don't know the family. You want a pie, you're gonna be helping me."

Soarin' gulped. "I dunno if that's a good idea."

Caramel sighed. "Fine, let me put this another way. You're GOING to help me, if only to make up for being a creeper when you came in. How long were you watching me, exactly?" he asked, hooves crossed across his chest.

The room suddenly felt very hot to the Wonderbolt. "It wasn't like that. I just thought you were a mare." The narrowing of Caramel's eyes made him automatically realize he had just made another mistake.

"Thanks. I don't get that often enough," said Caramel, his words dripping with sarcasm.

Soarin' shook his head. "I didn't mean that. I just meant," he tried to choose his next words more carefully. "I meant that I assumed you had to be a mare, since I'd never seen anyone else look that good." Oh good Celestia, he thought. What the hay am I saying? He immediately turned his head to prevent Caramel from seeing his face flush, unaware that the earth pony was turning almost equally red.

Caramel was the first to break the awkward silence. "Well... maybe we should start?"

• • •

After an hour in the kitchen, he started to understand why he might have gotten in trouble expecting Applejack to do all the work. Cooking was significantly more complicated than he had expected. The pie had to be made completely from scratch, starting with the dough, which chilled in the fridge while Caramel cut up all the apples for the filling. Despite all the work, Caramel made it look effortless. Fluid motions sliced through whole apples in seconds. Soarin', meanwhile, had been given the master bowl and a spoon on account that "this is where you can do the least damage." Caramel had been adding ingredients, one after the other, and now he poured the contents of the cutting board into the bowl. "Go ahead and stir that in. We're almost done."

Soarin' stuck his nose into the bowl and took a long sniff. It smelled wonderful, but it definitely wasn't the same smell from the Gala. He looked up at Caramel, who was looking through the upper cabinets for a last ingredient that seemed to have gone missing. "Caramel, is this a different recipe?"

"Yep!" he called back, cheerfully. "When you got a family of cooks like mine, you'll find that everyone has their own take on a dish. If you really had to have Applejack's, you should have dropped a line first. Aha!" He ducked his head into the cabinet and came out holding a small brown bottle. "I use only two types of apples instead of her three, and I use a little bit more nutmeg. But here's the secret ingredient right here!" He unscrewed the bottle and took a quick drink, which was followed by a cough. He smiled at Soarin'. "Yep, still good!"

"What is that?" asked Soarin', as the chef poured a small amount of brown liquid into the mixing bowl. Caramel then offered the bottle to Soarin', who took it hesitantly.

"I'm not entirely sure. Coconut is the one who gets it for me, so he probably knows more about it, but I know it comes from sugar, and if you drink more than a little bit of it," Caramel laughed, "you'll remember it in the morning."

Soarin' took a sniff of the bottle's opening. It had an oddly chemical smell that made him consider refusing, but upon looking at Caramel's expectant face, he took a swig. It didn't exactly taste good when it hit his throat, but as it went down, he felt a sweetness and warmth that made him smile. "Not bad." He went to hand the bottle to Caramel, but he discovered that the tan stallion had taken the mixing bowl and was blending all the ingredients into a perfect pie filling.

Caramel took his hoof and dipped it into the bowl, picking up a glob of apple mash. He stuck a small portion into his mouth and nodded. "I think we're on the right track. You want to try it?" Soarin' nodded, expecting Caramel to give him the spoon. Instead, Caramel again stuck his hoof into the bowl and held up a portion near Soarin's face. "Go ahead," Caramel said, smiling hopefully.

Soarin' looked into the dark blue eyes, shining with expectation. He slowly opened his mouth, and he felt his new friend's hoof push a portion of moist apple into his mouth. There was a moment of silence before Soarin' realized he hadn't yet closed his mouth. He chewed the morsel and swallowed. It was delicious. When he went to speak again, he found himself strangely a little out of breath. "That was... very good. Different, but good."

Caramel took a deep breath through his nose. He looked around the room as if genuinely concerned about his family returning home early, then looked at Soarin', his mouth slightly agape. "If you want more different and good, I can help." He swallowed hard. "Come here."

Soarin' leaned forward, and he was met halfway by Caramel's lips. Again he tasted the sweet, slightly tart flavor of the apples and their sugary coating, but with the heat of Caramel's breath behind them, intensifying the aromas and overpowering his senses. Soarin' returned as well as he received and without even thinking, he let his tongue slip into Caramel's mouth, tasting the same flavors and passions that he carried within himself. When they finally broke the kiss, they were both out of breath, and Caramel had to take a step back. "Wow," he said, panting. "You're..." he found himself unable to even complete his very simple thoughts, so he just repeated the first thing that had come to him. "Wow." Soarin' walked up to him and tried to wrap a foreleg around his neck, but he ducked out of the embrace. "No no no..."

"Why? Don't you..."

Caramel smiled as big a smile as he could remember having. "Of course. But can we at least get this in the oven first?"

Soarin' smiled back. "How long does it take?"

"Forty-five minutes."

"Awww..." the pegasus fake whined. "That's all?"

• • •

If not for the pink pie box clutched to his chest, Soarin' would have done flips all the way back to Canterlot. His mind was racing as fast as he was, and his heart was beating out of his chest. He had expected to have a good night, but at no point had he imagined he would find himself sleeping in a large red bed with a beautiful stallion curled up beside him and his Wonderbolts uniform lying on the floor. It was such a fantastic night that he had completely forgotten about his plan to "stock up" and had almost walked out of the door without the only pie the pair had baked all night. About the only thing he did know was that he needed to get back to Sweet Apple Acres soon.

• • •

Caramel sang to himself as he cleaned up the kitchen. "I'm floating around in ecstasyyy..."

Suddenly, he heard the door swing open. He immediately dropped the broom and ran to the front of the farmhouse, hoping that maybe a certain pegasus had decided to show up to practice late. His face fell as soon as he saw who was at the door.

"Howdy, Caramel! We were able to get outta Fillydelphia a little early, so we decided to cut the vacation short!" Applejack dropped her travel bag by the door as the rest of the family filed in behind her.

"Oh, hey guys." Caramel smiled, doing his best to hide his disappointment, but Applejack caught on quickly.

"You don't look too happy ta see us."

Caramel shook his head. "It's not that. I just like having the house to myself sometimes."

"So you can make messes?" came Apple Bloom's voice from the as-still unclean kitchen. He shrugged at Applejack as Big Macintosh made his way upstairs.

"I made a pie last night."

"Well?" asked Applejack, expectantly.

"Well what?"

"How did it turn out?"

Caramel smiled, fighting back a blush. "Best I've had in a while."

A deep voice came from upstairs. "Caramel?" Macintosh shouted. "Why is there flour all over my bed?"