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Description
“A remake of Caught in the Rain because the world can always use more Rarijack and I sort of love that piece. So now it’s all fancy and stuff!
And now, let’s put that lovely story flippedoutkyrii did a wonderful job helping to bring to light:
The weather ponies were always prompt to post the weather for the day, but they had a nasty habit of forgetting to mention how severe it was going to be. It was because of this that Applejack found herself stuck in her truck, the roads washed out and the tires caught in the mud. Normally this wouldn’t be much of a problem. She’d lean back in her seat, plop her hat over her face, and deal with it in the morning when Celestia started drying everything out. Hadn’t been anything to worry about all those times before.
Unfortunately, this time was different. This time she had a passenger.
Rarity was trying to scoot towards the middle, away from the open window. It was a result of something they both regretted - Rarity complaining about the lack of air conditioning, and Applejack proving Ol’ Bessi didn’t need it. It did work, just a little too well at the moment, and it had chosen that particular time to get stuck.
So they sat there, the rain pelting the cabin and pouring in every chance it got, and they were many. It was a painful, and wet, silence for them, both ponies silently blaming the other. And to be fair, they shared the blame. Rarity insisted on a case of Applejack’s latest brew of ciders, and Applejack insisted on driving her out there to give a tour, and Rarity began “critiquing” the state of the truck, which Applejack insisted on correcting.
Finally, Rarity piped up, a slight whine in her voice. “I told you we should have pulled over.”
“Now don’t ya start that up agin! This ol’ girl coulda made it… prob’ly. ”
“Well, maybe you’ll be a bit more inclined to reason from now on!”
“Ya wanna jump back there an’ start pushin’? Maybe that’ll knock some-”
A crack of thunder tore through the sky and their argument, and the two mares found themselves clutching each other, shaking. Neither was overly fond of storms.
“…There wouldn’t be somewhere a little more dry nearby, would there?”
Applejack scanned out the window, pointing somewhere to their right. “There’s an ol’ barn just over the hill. Ain’t exactly a five star hotel or nothin’ but it’s dry.
Rarity peered through the window, trying to make out the structure through the the sheets of rain. “But that’s miles away!”
“Ain’t but a couple hundred feet. Now come on, sooner we get there, sooner we dry off.”
Applejack opened her door and hopped out, splashing mud everywhere and walking to Rarity’s side. The unicorn tentatively opened her own door, staring down into the stream of muddy water in horror. Applejack saw the pleading look in her eyes and walked over, holding her arms out with a roll of her eyes. “Come on, princess.”
Rarity gently slid herself into the farmer’s arms, and she began slogging her way up the hill. It was slow going, from both the wet ground and her cargo. The rain certainly wasn’t making it any easier either. The trip was silent save for the ‘squick, squick’ or Applejack’s boots and the occasional roar of thunder, which sounded more and more frequent. It felt like hours, but they finally made it to the barn. Applejack deposited Rarity on the ground, her purple heels sinking into the mud. She gave a little whimper, but it was drowned out by the squeal of the heavy wooden door sliding open. Without a moment’s hesitation, both ran inside and shut the door as quickly as possible.
The barn was old, alright, and dark too. Rarity thought she could see a tractor somewhere towards the back, and the dust was starting to tickle her nose. She began to walk towards it, when something grabbed her arm. She gave a small “eep!” before realizing it was only Applejack. She gently led the unicorn up a staircase, leading to the barn’s loft.
After Applejack had lit a the lanterns scattered about in there (how she had found the matches in that place was a mystery), Rarity took a proper look around. The loft was roomy, but it was an absolute hodge-podge of… stuff. There was really no other way to describe it. A wooden sled hung on the wall, rusty tools leaned against it. A craftsman’s table was propped up near a stack of crates with a hammer and an old game system sitting on top. Two things really caught her eye though. In the center of the room was a large green couch. It was faded, stained, and dirty, but it was a lovely thing all the same, and very plush as she gave it a few squeezes. That’s when she noticed the second thing. On a crudely carved wooden stool was a record player, and a beautiful one too. She had never seen one that wasn’t decoratively stuffed up on a shelf somewhere, and she gingerly touched it. Save for a few scratches on the outside, it was perfect. She turned to Applejack, only to be greeted with a towel to the face.
“Here. Dry yerself off. And ya won’t wanna keep those wet things on neither.” Applejack held a similar towel and was starting to peel off her jeans, letting them fall to the floor before rubbing her face vigorously with the towel. Rarity blushed at this, but began to pull the white dress off as well, looking for somewhere relatively clean to hang it up. Survival tends to trumps decency.
After they had gotten the worst of the water off, Rarity called Applejack’s attention to the player again. “Oh yeah, I was wonderin’ where Granny stashed that.”
Rarity looked it over again, entranced. “Does it still work? Please tell me it works.”
“It always needed a good whack ‘fore it started singin’, least that’s what Granny said.”
At this Rarity was horrified. “Applejack! This is an antique! You can’t mean to-”
But before she could finish, Applejack gave the machine a quick slap to the side, and the disc started spinning, scratchy at first, but a deed voice began crooning out of it.
“No one to talk with, all by myself…”
_Rarity looked absolutely giddy, and Applejack gave her a smug grin. “Told ya.”
The farmer started rummaging through one of the many crates scattered on the floor, and pulled out two large bottles, sploshing with an amber liquid. “Ain’t the batch I had in mind, but might as well pull ‘em out, right?”
She handed one of the cider bottles to Rarity, but not before pulling the cork out with her teeth. “There, that’ll warm ya up.”
“You know that’s only because alcohol dilates your blood vessels, right?”
“Yer startin’ ta sound like Twilight, honey. Now do ya want it or not?”
“Oh yes, please.”
They clinked their bottles together and took a swig. Rarity could feel the warm sweet cider begin to work its magic instantly. It had clearly been aging for a while.
They curled up on the couch, Applejack wrapping her free arm around Rarity’s waist and giving her a doofy grin. Rarity always loved that smile - it made her look so adorable. “Watcha think, sugar? Better than your rosies?”
“That’s rosé, darling” She said with a soft chuckle. Rarity scooted a little closer to the farmer, soaking up her warmth. The night hadn’t had the best start in the world, but the ending was certainly worth it. She sunk her head into the moth-eaten pillow on the couch and let out a long, happy sigh. Applejack gave her a soft kiss on the cheeks as she did so.
“Gu’night, darlin’.”
Truer words were never spoken.
And now, let’s put that lovely story flippedoutkyrii did a wonderful job helping to bring to light:
The weather ponies were always prompt to post the weather for the day, but they had a nasty habit of forgetting to mention how severe it was going to be. It was because of this that Applejack found herself stuck in her truck, the roads washed out and the tires caught in the mud. Normally this wouldn’t be much of a problem. She’d lean back in her seat, plop her hat over her face, and deal with it in the morning when Celestia started drying everything out. Hadn’t been anything to worry about all those times before.
Unfortunately, this time was different. This time she had a passenger.
Rarity was trying to scoot towards the middle, away from the open window. It was a result of something they both regretted - Rarity complaining about the lack of air conditioning, and Applejack proving Ol’ Bessi didn’t need it. It did work, just a little too well at the moment, and it had chosen that particular time to get stuck.
So they sat there, the rain pelting the cabin and pouring in every chance it got, and they were many. It was a painful, and wet, silence for them, both ponies silently blaming the other. And to be fair, they shared the blame. Rarity insisted on a case of Applejack’s latest brew of ciders, and Applejack insisted on driving her out there to give a tour, and Rarity began “critiquing” the state of the truck, which Applejack insisted on correcting.
Finally, Rarity piped up, a slight whine in her voice. “I told you we should have pulled over.”
“Now don’t ya start that up agin! This ol’ girl coulda made it… prob’ly. ”
“Well, maybe you’ll be a bit more inclined to reason from now on!”
“Ya wanna jump back there an’ start pushin’? Maybe that’ll knock some-”
A crack of thunder tore through the sky and their argument, and the two mares found themselves clutching each other, shaking. Neither was overly fond of storms.
“…There wouldn’t be somewhere a little more dry nearby, would there?”
Applejack scanned out the window, pointing somewhere to their right. “There’s an ol’ barn just over the hill. Ain’t exactly a five star hotel or nothin’ but it’s dry.
Rarity peered through the window, trying to make out the structure through the the sheets of rain. “But that’s miles away!”
“Ain’t but a couple hundred feet. Now come on, sooner we get there, sooner we dry off.”
Applejack opened her door and hopped out, splashing mud everywhere and walking to Rarity’s side. The unicorn tentatively opened her own door, staring down into the stream of muddy water in horror. Applejack saw the pleading look in her eyes and walked over, holding her arms out with a roll of her eyes. “Come on, princess.”
Rarity gently slid herself into the farmer’s arms, and she began slogging her way up the hill. It was slow going, from both the wet ground and her cargo. The rain certainly wasn’t making it any easier either. The trip was silent save for the ‘squick, squick’ or Applejack’s boots and the occasional roar of thunder, which sounded more and more frequent. It felt like hours, but they finally made it to the barn. Applejack deposited Rarity on the ground, her purple heels sinking into the mud. She gave a little whimper, but it was drowned out by the squeal of the heavy wooden door sliding open. Without a moment’s hesitation, both ran inside and shut the door as quickly as possible.
The barn was old, alright, and dark too. Rarity thought she could see a tractor somewhere towards the back, and the dust was starting to tickle her nose. She began to walk towards it, when something grabbed her arm. She gave a small “eep!” before realizing it was only Applejack. She gently led the unicorn up a staircase, leading to the barn’s loft.
After Applejack had lit a the lanterns scattered about in there (how she had found the matches in that place was a mystery), Rarity took a proper look around. The loft was roomy, but it was an absolute hodge-podge of… stuff. There was really no other way to describe it. A wooden sled hung on the wall, rusty tools leaned against it. A craftsman’s table was propped up near a stack of crates with a hammer and an old game system sitting on top. Two things really caught her eye though. In the center of the room was a large green couch. It was faded, stained, and dirty, but it was a lovely thing all the same, and very plush as she gave it a few squeezes. That’s when she noticed the second thing. On a crudely carved wooden stool was a record player, and a beautiful one too. She had never seen one that wasn’t decoratively stuffed up on a shelf somewhere, and she gingerly touched it. Save for a few scratches on the outside, it was perfect. She turned to Applejack, only to be greeted with a towel to the face.
“Here. Dry yerself off. And ya won’t wanna keep those wet things on neither.” Applejack held a similar towel and was starting to peel off her jeans, letting them fall to the floor before rubbing her face vigorously with the towel. Rarity blushed at this, but began to pull the white dress off as well, looking for somewhere relatively clean to hang it up. Survival tends to trumps decency.
After they had gotten the worst of the water off, Rarity called Applejack’s attention to the player again. “Oh yeah, I was wonderin’ where Granny stashed that.”
Rarity looked it over again, entranced. “Does it still work? Please tell me it works.”
“It always needed a good whack ‘fore it started singin’, least that’s what Granny said.”
At this Rarity was horrified. “Applejack! This is an antique! You can’t mean to-”
But before she could finish, Applejack gave the machine a quick slap to the side, and the disc started spinning, scratchy at first, but a deed voice began crooning out of it.
“No one to talk with, all by myself…”
_Rarity looked absolutely giddy, and Applejack gave her a smug grin. “Told ya.”
The farmer started rummaging through one of the many crates scattered on the floor, and pulled out two large bottles, sploshing with an amber liquid. “Ain’t the batch I had in mind, but might as well pull ‘em out, right?”
She handed one of the cider bottles to Rarity, but not before pulling the cork out with her teeth. “There, that’ll warm ya up.”
“You know that’s only because alcohol dilates your blood vessels, right?”
“Yer startin’ ta sound like Twilight, honey. Now do ya want it or not?”
“Oh yes, please.”
They clinked their bottles together and took a swig. Rarity could feel the warm sweet cider begin to work its magic instantly. It had clearly been aging for a while.
They curled up on the couch, Applejack wrapping her free arm around Rarity’s waist and giving her a doofy grin. Rarity always loved that smile - it made her look so adorable. “Watcha think, sugar? Better than your rosies?”
“That’s rosé, darling” She said with a soft chuckle. Rarity scooted a little closer to the farmer, soaking up her warmth. The night hadn’t had the best start in the world, but the ending was certainly worth it. She sunk her head into the moth-eaten pillow on the couch and let out a long, happy sigh. Applejack gave her a soft kiss on the cheeks as she did so.
“Gu’night, darlin’.”
Truer words were never spoken.
Not enough. Never enough.