"Come 'n' get it!" Applejack called, flipping the last of the flapjacks from the griddle all the way across the room to the stack on the kitchen table.

"Aw, yeah!" With a rustle and a whoosh, Dash flashed through the doorway, her eyes and grin wide. "Now that's what I'm talking about!"

Applejack couldn't help grinning back. Hanging her apron on its peg, she wondered why she'd ever been worried about the homestead getting too quiet. Sure, things had been tough for a while: Granny passing away; Mac moving in with Cheerilee; Apple Bloom getting that apartment in town with Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo. But her brother and sister were both still here every day working except when Apple Bloom had a client who needed the Crusaders' help figuring out his or her cutie mark, and with Dash around, there wasn't any chance of—

A question hit Applejack, and she turned back to watch Dash shoveling flapjacks, her cheeks bulging and powdered sugar sprinkling her lips.

When exactly had Dash moved into the house here?

Or had she moved in? Even with her posters and goggles and flight suits scattered over tables and counters and stuffed into closets, that gaudy ol' cloud mansion of hers was still floating around the outskirts of Ponyville; Applejack couldn't imagine a place like that'd hold together all too well without a pegasus keeping it in check. And with Dash always out doing her Wonderbolt thing and her weather thing, it wasn't like she slept here every night.

Which made another question hit Applejack, but this one smacked her so hard, it set the breath to hitching sideways in her chest.

When exactly had Dash moved into her bed?

Not that Applejack was complaining about it: not at all. She found she liked having somepony to hold in the night, a neck to press her face into and a mane to stroke, and those times she wanted something a little randier—or those times Dash tickled or teased her into wanting it—Dash always proved ready, willing, and more than able. She did without whenever Dash wasn't here and missed her, of course, but mostly it meant that she got all the sleep she needed and all her work done, something she had to admit didn't always happen when Dash was around.

But whatever it was between her and Dash had grown and blossomed as slow and gentle as an apple tree, budding up from acquaintances to friends to saving the world together to sleeping together—

And blinking at Dash swigging down her mug of cocoa, Applejack couldn't remember when that last one had actually started happening.

There sure hadn't been any down-on-one-knee-with-a-hoof-holding-out-a-ring kinda moment like Rarity went on and on about. There hadn't been any fervent declarations under the moonlight like Twilight said she was looking forward to, no proposals written in clouds like Pinkie swore she was gonna do when she met her special somepony, and no wavery eyes with rose petals blowing in the background like Fluttershy sometimes whispered and blushed about. There'd just been her and Dash, same as there'd always been, laughing and fighting and kicking around to help each other whenever they needed it.

And now, looking across the kitchen, Applejack suddenly and for maybe the first time actually saw her marefriend or her husband or her wife or whatever other word might be out there somewhere: the one pony in the whole wide, wide world of Equestria, at any rate, that she simply couldn't imagine living without.

Dash froze in mid-chew, her eyes snapping up from her plate and her gaze crashing into Applejack's. "What?" she asked, her voice thick with half-eaten pancakes.

Applejack shook her head and moved to her own place at the table. "Nothing. And pass the syrup. If'n there's any left, I mean..."