The Apple of My (Familial) Eye

Applejack Apple was an attractive mare. Everypony knew it. Not in the same way that Rarity was - classy and proper and feminine - nor in the way Fluttershy was - delicate and quiet, like a flower - no, Applejack was beautiful in a way entirely her own.

Her coat was the perfect shade of orange, like an Autumn sunset. Her eyes were two glittering emeralds, determined and strong, yet light and amiable. As a result of several years of hard work, her figure was firm toned, and curved in all the right places. Her mane was like a million strands of gold, shimmering in the sunlight, capped with her trademark Stetson, which she inherited from her father.

In short, she was an Apple-scented mare-of-your-dreams. For every stallion harboring a crush on the elaborate Rarity, there was one who's eye had caught sight of the headstrong Applejack.

One such stallion, was her cousin Braeburn.

It had all started about three years ago. Just after they turned fifteen. Braeburn was three months older than her, and, being a teen male, his thoughts turned to smut most of the time. But this was different. He was visiting the Ponyville Apples for two weeks, to help with Applebuck season. Appleoosa had more than enough farmponies to aid them this year, but Sweet Apple Acres had only two - one of whom (Big MacIntosh) was recovering from a twisted hoof.

He had yet to drink his coffee this morning, having just woken up, and he was heading into the bathroom. His sleep-addled ears did not hear the sound of the radio, and the obvious fact that the bathroom was occupied.

"Gooood morning Equestria!" came the radio-DJ's voice. "I'm Apple Melody, broadcasting live from Canterlot and this is In The Know, On The Beat! Lets start with a little something to get your sleepy flanks moving!"

Then his ears failed to hear sweet, high, clear Sounthern voice singing along to a song on the radio.

"Prancing down the street, strutting my stuff,

My Daddy buys me things, it's never enough.

I pretend I don't know that they stare,

Nopony gets me and I really don't ca-a-a-are." came Applejack's voice as she accompanied 'Better Than You'.

And because Braeburn was so sleepy, he didn't notice a thing. He walked into the bathroom, slung his towel onto the rack, and stepped into the square of frosted glass that was the shower cubicle.

"BRAEBURN ALEXANDER APPLE!" screamed Applejack, "WHAT IN TARNATION ARE YOU DOING?!" she was backed against the wall in shock, her front legs crossed over her front. Ponies didn't normally wear clothes, true, but they still didn't like being seen in the shower.

Suddenly wide awake, Braeburn leapt out of the shower, babbling his apology like a three year old.

"OhmyCelestiaI'msosorryAJIdidn'tknowtherewasanyponyinthereI'msotiredIdidn'thearyouohmypleaseforgivemeI'msosorry!" he exclaimed, grabbing his towel and running out of the bathroom. He heard the door lock behind him and the creak of the shower door as Applejack climbed back in to finished her shower.

Braeburn's face burned with shame. His only consolation was that, once Applejack had finished her shower, coem out of the bathroom and said, "Oh, morning Braeburn. How'd you sleep?" before winking at him in a way that said, I won't tell if you won't and walking downstairs for some breakfast.

After what he came to call The Shower Incident had been locked away and the key thrown into the dark canyon of take-it-to-your-grave, Braeburn started to think about it a little more deeply. Now that the initial shock and embarrassment had subsided, he began to realise how pretty Applejack had looked...her eyes shining as if the water had polished them...the water rolling over her strong-yet-feminine, athletic body, making her sunset coat cling to her curves...the playful smile and the almost flirty wink as she came out of the bathroom...and he found himself gazing into space mistily.

"And now," came Melody - the radio DJ - 's voice over the bathroom radio, "Another little something to keep you moving-and-grooving!"

The sound of another pony's voice brought Braeburn to his senses, and he realised that he had been standing in the shower for ten minutes, doing nothing but letting the water wash over him.

"Morning, Braeburn!" came Apple Bloom's voice, as clear and bright as the sun. He smiled as her dazedly,

"Morning, Apple Bloom." he replied, ruffling her cherry-red mane. "Morning, Big Mac," he added, noticing the stallion sat at the table. Big MacIntosh inclined his head as response.

"Morning, everypony!" came Applejack's voice. Now, her mane and tail had been dried, brushed and tied back, and she was wearing her Stetson. She had several, but only one had been the one her father owned, and that was the one she wore most days.

Everypony else in the room smiled their replies. Despite being the third eldest, Applejack was the pony who had the most to do with the farm - Granny being too old and Big MacIntosh being too shy to deal with business matters such as haggling.

"So, what are we doing today?" Braeburn asked, tucking into a much needed cup of coffee.

Where were you half an hour ago? He asked it silently. Half an hour ago had been just before he'd walked in of Applejack.

"Ah reckon we'll start with the East field," Applejack told her cousin and big brother, "And work our way West. Sound good?"

"Eeyup." Braeburn and MacIntosh replied in unison.

"All right, then." Applejack said, stamping a hoof on her plate, sending the apple into the air and swallowing it in one bite. Through the food in her mouth she said, "Let's go."

Braeburn gulped down the rest of his coffee, and Big MacIntosh merely stood up, having already eaten and put on his yoke. the three of them bid goodbye to Granny Smith and Apple Bloom, (who was pulling on her saddlebags for school) and walked out the back door, making their way through the apple orchard to the East fields.

THWOCK!

Applejack's powerful rear legs made contact with the bark of the apple tree. the apples on it's branches quivered for a moment, before falling into the baskets below. She wiped her brow triumphantly, and turned to watch the two stallions nearby.

Big MacIntosh was bucking trees with one rear hoof. He was nearly twice as strong as his younger sister - Applejack could remove every apple from a tree with a single two-legged buck, whereas MacIntosh could remove nearly every apple from a tree usuing only one hoof.

Braeburn, like most ponies, needed to buck a tree two or three times to remove every apple from a tree. He was the weakest of the three - at last as far as rear legs were concerned.

Once Braeburn finally removed the apples from the last tree in the field, the trio stopped to have a break. They each picked an apple from a basket, and snacked on them slowly, making polite conversation, enjoying the sun, whatever.

MacIntosh was thinking about how thankful he was to his cousin for staying to help, and debating on whether or not to take another aspirin for his hoof.

Applejack was still giggling slightly at Braeburn's antics as a sleep-zombie from earlier this morning, marvelling at how good the apples tasted - and what lovely pies, fritters and cider her family would make with them.

Braeburn was thinking how pretty Applejack looked.

The way the sun caught her shining hair; the way her chest moved as she took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of her life; how the sweat glistened on her neck and torso...

NO! He thought violently, no, she's your cuz, Braeburn! He scolded himself, you ain't that kind of farmpony. You love her like kin, and no more. Y'hear?

He did hear. But he didn't listen.