The Brat and the Farmer

by palaikai

Rating: everyone
Tags: Romance, Slice of Life
Length: 1079

Rarity and Applejack contemplate exactly what it is that makes them so good for each other, despite all evidence to the contrary.

Despite all evidence to the contrary, Applejack and Rarity are both the best of friends and lovers. They contemplate exactly what it is that makes their relationship work, despite existing in completely different worlds.

(Found it!)

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-07-23 23:10:02 UTC

Watching

Hours of back-breaking work in the farm over the long summer does things to Applejack that Rarity can only admire; as much as she finds her hayseed friend uncouth (not to mention unhygienic), no one can deny that she looks fabulous … in her own scruffy, dishevelled way.

The sun beats down on her, and even with her broad-brimmed Stetson in place, it doesn't quite negate the effects of all that light; her apricot coat takes on a darker hue, and the result is that the tiny white freckles flanking each side of her face are even more prominent, as are her mesmerising green eyes. Applejack's golden mane has loosed itself from its bindings and it forms a halo, accentuating her exquisiteness.

Rarity contemplates; the harsh months of ceaseless drudgery do other things to Applejack's body, strengthening and hardening her muscles, and she quickly comes to the conclusion that the farmer looks much better covered in dirt and sweat than she does when primped and preened. She can only envy her unkempt beauty, though she is always quick to deflect her jealousy with derisory quips.

It doesn't seem like any time has passed at all when the sun begins to set. Applejack is finished for the day, and though she is tired, sleep is the furthest thing from her mind; she joins Rarity on a hill overlooking the grand sweep of Sweet Apple Acres, and presses her head against her neck in a soft nuzzle.

“You were watching again,” Applejack says.

Rarity blushed., and let a purple lock fall over her eyes. “You saw me?”

“You're not exactly subtle or hard-ta-miss, sugarcube.”

Even though Applejack's hooves are covered in mud – worked in deep under the nails, too, forming a thick layer of grime that would be all but impossible to shift without professional care – Rarity takes them in her own. It's a concession that she's willing to make, just as Applejack doesn't complain when forced to attend fancy galas and what-not. “I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but I don't see enough of you during the day.”

“I don't mind,” Applejack replied with a small smile. “If you want, you can pitch-in.”

Rarity looked at her hooves; some of the dirt had transferred from Applejack's, and she had to fight the urge to find the nearest water source. “Me? Working on a farm?” she snorted a very unmarelike laugh. Applejack made a face. “What's bothering you?” asked cream-coated unicorn, sensing her friend's mood take a dive.

“I guess I just … I had a moment of realisation,” said Applejack. “All this,” she expanded, gesturing to herself and Rarity. “It still seems a bit weird to me, how we're suddenly together after all that time spent getting on each other's nerves.”

“I've often had similar thoughts,” the unicorn agreed. Their entire union had been a strangely-conducted affair, right from the beginning; one moment, Rarity had been complaining about some coarse behaviour on the part of Applejack during a soiree, and the next thing she knew she was underneath those powerful hooves.

Rarity had been scared at first, assuming that Applejack was about to start remonstrating with her, but instead, she'd locked muzzles with the unicorn.

“I'm sorry about that,” was the first thing that came out of the earth pony's mouth following the kiss. Well, not the first thing, exactly. “I, uh, I don't know what came over me.” She had seemed genuinely shocked by her conduct, and Rarity remembered that confused face well. It was the same one staring at her now.

“Applejack, are you … having doubts about us?”

“Hon', I have doubts about us all the time.” There was no point in lying, even if she had been any good at them; she didn't want to keep something concealed that would only cause hurt down the line, even if it meant bruising Rarity's feelings in the present. “We're from two different worlds, and I honestly don't see the appeal … for you.”

“Well, if we're being honest,” began Rarity, “I like you because of your … simplicity.” She hastened to add, “I'm not saying that you're simple by any stretch of the imagination, I just mean that you're uncomplicated. You don't hold anything back, you don't keep secrets, you tell it like it is and I admire that about you. It's a refreshing change from the snooty backstabbing I have to deal with in my professional life.”

Once, very long ago, when she had first become embroiled with Applejack – thanks to Twilight Sparkle and the Elements of Harmony, something that seemed like a half-forgotten dream these days – she had thought that she would be able to bring a little culture, a little refinement, to the farm-hoof. “Ironing out the wrinkles,” she had once called it, but as she got to know her friend better, she realised that it would be destroying something unique. There were very few ponies like Applejack around, and Equestria was worse off for it.

It had taken Rarity a long time to realise that Applejack was perfect the way she was, and the thought of making her into a Stepford Mare scared her enough to cause her to lose sleep some nights.

But the apricot earth pony would be lying there next to her, snoring her buzzcut snore, and Rarity would be affirmed once more that all was right in the world. Sometimes, she would will herself to wake up early just so that she could inhale the intoxicating scent of the sweat-stained farmer before she once more had to leave her side to tend to her crop. There were times when Rarity felt that she was only a mistress, while Applejack's true love was her orchard.

“Hey, you okay? You're looking a little spacey, there,” said Applejack, concern layering her voice.

“Sorry, I was … lost in thought,” Rarity replied. She shook her head, wishing to loosen the tangled cobwebs therein. “So. What about you, then? What does a simple country mare see in a high-falutin', hoity-toity spoiled brat?

Applejack almost laughed at the unicorn's unconscious mimicry of her distinctive accent. “Because ...” she smiled, remembering something she had once said in jest, but now she repeated it with conviction, “Because, sugarcube, good things are better when they're a Rarity.”

It had the hoped-for reaction: Rarity pulled her into a tight embrace and made a soft noise in her throat that sounded distinctly like squee.