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When she gets on the plane alone after a week in New York with a businessman who forgot her name twice, Rarity feels lost. He was stiff and mind-numbingly dull, but he introduced her to movie stars and CEOs and she wanted so badly to like him as much as she likes what he represents to her: success, freedom, luxury. The opportunities of the city. She doesn’t want to land in Texas where there are no clubs or glitter or music festivals in upstate farms. She wants the glamour that he promised her, the sparkling potential of the newly-welcomed seventies. Anything less is devastating.

On the plane, a girl from her high school sits next to her:

“Rarity? Hi! It's Twilight, we went to school together,”

“Oh, Twilight! Yes, I remember. What are you doing in New York?”

“I was meeting with some people from Barnard College about one of their programs and I wanted to visit my parents before I go back to California. But you, I would’ve thought you’d never come back to Texas after graduation. Are you visiting your sister?” Twilight is so earnest and kind that Rarity wants to tell her the whole story about how she never really left. She nearly does, actually, but she leaves out the self-hatred and most of the minor details. Twilight still looks heavily sympathetic, though, so it’s a lateral move. 

“Gosh, I’m sorry, Rarity. I didn’t mean to imply anything,”

“No, no, darling, I never thought you did.” Rarity assures, smiling sincerely.

Twilight grins back. Then, her eyes widen in recollection. “Did you hear about Sheriff Jack?” she says abruptly. 

“Who?”

“Sheriff Peter’s replacement who just started working. I haven’t heard much about it. In any case, my parents said there have been a few less thefts recently—that’s gotta count for something, right? Maybe Sheriff Jack will be a good thing for the town.”

The first sheriff had died years ago. She hadn’t known him well but the tragedy of the story–leaving behind three kids when his wife had already passed–broke her 12-year-old heart. After him was Peter, a spindly man from Louisiana who had no backbone and no morals. His retirement party had been the day after Rarity left for New York. Somehow she didn’t give any thought to who the next sheriff would be, but Jack sounds like he's at least a little less incompetent. Rarity knows that he's probably as ancient and creepy as Peter, but she hopes he does a better job than the last Sheriff. 

Twilight doesn’t offer much more information on the new sheriff after that, but they spend the rest of the ride catching up and scribbling down phone numbers on napkins. They separate soon after landing, but Twilight swears to call in a few days when the jet lag wears off. She mentions a “Sunset Glimmer” that Rarity wants to meet, and there are dinner plans made hastily while departing. Rarity waves goodbye reluctantly.

The airport is hot and crowded, and by the time she arrives at the parking garage, Rarity is just about ready to curl up in her dingy apartment and go the hell to sleep.

So maybe she speeds on the way home. She’s had a bad day.

A beige sedan that she hadn’t even seen behind her suddenly lights up in blue and red, the cherry on top of an awful week. Rarity pulls over and begins to repeatedly bang her head on the steering wheel, barely caring when a soft knock on the window urges her to roll it down. She reluctantly complies, halfway through a, “What seems to be the problem, officer?” before she chokes on her words.

Concerned brown eyes framed by pale yellow eyelashes stare down at Rarity as the woman’s lips curve in a friendly smile. Her arms stretch the sleeves of her gold uniform top under a vest that does nothing to disguise the wide shape of her shoulders and the slim waist encircled by a leather belt. One tan hand rests softly against Rarity’s car. A little less exhausted, Rarity probably wouldn’t have let her eyes roam down the woman’s body, likely looking like a damn starving wolf, until the gleam of a sheriff badge caught her eye.

“You’re Sheriff Jack?” she asks incredulously.

“Uh,” says the sheriff, laughing politely. “Applejack, actually.”

Oh, thinks Rarity. And then: fuck.

“W-what seems to be the problem, um…Officer Applejack?”

An enticing blush spreads across her freckled nose. “Well, ma’am, you were doing sixty miles per hour in a forty area. Could I see some identification?”

“Oh, I…sure, darling,” Rarity digs around in her purse, then her carry-on, then her suitcase—

“Any luck?” Applejack says lowly. Rarity swallows.

“It seems I have misplaced my driver’s license,” she laughs nervously.

Applejack raises an eyebrow, looking reluctant before she breaks the news:

“I’m sorry, sugarcube, but twenty over the speed limit and no license means reckless driving. I’ll have to take you into the station.”

A flare of annoyance sparks to life in Rarity.

“Seriously? Can’t you see I have had an absolutely awful day?”

“And whoever you run over will have a worse day, I reckon,”

“No three strikes? No warnings?”

“Afraid not,”

“Ugh!” Rarity squawks and hit her forehead against the steering wheel in defeat. “Fine.”

The sheriff steps back, at least having the decency to actually look sorry. Rarity isn't impressed.

“You gonna lasso me like a damn cowboy?” she snaps, climbing out of the car.

Applejack doesn’t hesitate. “Do you want me to?”

All of Rarity’s thoughts trip over each other like dominos at her low, challenging voice. Applejack seems a little shocked at herself, too, if the surprised flush is anything to go by. A scoff is all Rarity can manage as she turns to face the car like she’d seen criminals do in Columbo. Before she does, though, she tosses her hair over her shoulder, showing off her open-backed halter top. She hears the sheriff inhale shallowly behind her as she tries to subtly arch back and look at the expression on Applejack’s face. After many seconds of hesitation and obvious staring, Applejack’s wide hands gently wrestle Rarity’s wrists together behind her back. Rarity bites her lip to keep from grinning wildly.

“You’re awfully smiley for someone getting arrested. You hiding something?”

“Oh, you are very welcome to search me for as long as you need, officer.”

Applejack’s hands fumble as they work at the handcuffs. Rarity smiles in victory. Then she frowns.

“What about my car?”

“Leave the keys and I’ll call two of my colleagues to come grab it and bring it to the station. Pinkie and Rainbow should be around.” Applejack guides her into the backseat and shuts the door. By the time Rarity is sitting in the back of a cop car, it feels like years since she left the airport. Although, Rarity thinks, this is compensated by the view of the sheriff’s shoulders.

“Wait, Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash?” Rarity gasps. “I know them!” 

Applejack studies her. “What did you say your name was, again?”

“I didn’t,” Rarity counters, “It’s Rarity Belle.”

“And how old are you?”

“Twenty three,”

“Huh. Me too.”

“Really? How come I never saw you in school?”

“I was homeschooled. First by my dad, then my grandmother after he passed when I was twelve.”

“I’m so sorry, Sheriff,” Rarity says softly. 

She smiles. “To tell the truth, Miss Rarity, I don’t think you’re much of a criminal. Saying you’re sorry for me and all. Hell, I don’t even think you knew you were going so fast down that road.”

An inexplicable panic rushes through Rarity at the thought of going home to a cold and empty room. She scoffs.

“Oh, I did. Saw you coming and sped up, too. Just take me to the station.”

“It’s another hour from here,”

“What?” Rarity groans. “Ugh! Fine, let’s go.”

“Are—?”

“Let’s go.”

Applejack shrugs. 

The ride starts off with a stewing Rarity keeping silent, until Applejack takes to making awkward comments about the landmarks:

“The owner of that store is damn rude,”

“I wonder how Trixie’s shows are going…”

“Well, this is a dump nowadays.”

Rarity begins to defrost, relaxing at the sound of Applejack’s even voice. Little by little she leans closer to the driver’s seat until she’s practically draped over it like a square of velvet fabric, if velvet fabric were enamoured with freckled sheriffs and rough hands. She begins responding to each comment, trying to act like her heart isn’t clawing its way out of her chest in Applejack’s direction. 

“Why did you take this job, anyway?” Rarity asks suddenly, in the middle of the sheriff’s ramblings on an offensive statue. "Is it a legacy thing or are you just really into beige polos?" Despite her efforts, beige still comes out like a swear word.

Applejack inhales sharply. “It ain’t like I get off on throwing people in jail, mind you. But it makes me feel better to know that I’m making a difference around here. Arresting ain’t all I do, you know. I run welfare checks, too. I see if folks are getting by, if they’re treating their kids well, all that. And if, heaven forbid, they’re not…I help.” She hesitated a moment, not noticing Rarity falling head over heels in the seat behind her.

“My sister,” Rarity starts, “I made her stay somewhere while I was away. I made her promise. Because I don’t…I don’t like her alone with our parents. That’s why I haven’t booked it to New York yet—I can’t leave Sweetie.”

“That’s really selfless, Rarity Belle.”

“It’s selfish to want to leave,”

“It’s not fair that you can’t,” Applejack says.

Rarity doesn't say anything. Then she speaks: "Thank you, by the way. For your welfare checks. I'm happy to know that someone's looking out for Sweetie."

Applejack nods slowly. She seems to be lost in thought, then the car jerks to a stop.

“What the hell?” Rarity protests, rubbing her elbow where it collided with the center console.

“Come up here. You’re not exactly a dangerous criminal, and I feel like a damn taxi driver like this.”

Rarity stares, trying to quell any rising feelings. “Can you unlock the doors?”

“They were never locked,” Well, shit.

Rarity climbs in the front. She doesn’t fasten her seatbelt, too busy trying not to do anything crazy like lean over and put her mouth on Applejack’s neck. Applejack glares and reaches over, grabbing the seatbelt and clicking it into place emphatically as she makes eye contact with a blushing Rarity. 

Fuck, Rarity thinks for the second time. 

The rest of the ride is strangely comfortable. Rarity ends up regaling Applejack with the story of her parents’ neglect and how she fears the day they decide to hurt Sweetie.

“I can take it,” she mutters, “But Sweetie doesn’t deserve that.”

“You don’t deserve it either, sugarcube,” Applejack says. Rarity swallows.

Later, Rarity talks more about her fashion designing and finds herself spitting out numbers and business ideas and other things she never planned to say. She talks so fast that her well-suppressed Texas accent snakes out:

“...so I ain’t saying that silk is the only material that makes a fine dress but it’s a hell of a great choice, and—oh. I’m talking much too fast, Sheriff. You should’ve told me to shut my mouth,” Rarity laughs quietly, embarrassed.

“Are you kidding?” Applejack says. “You’re much more interesting to listen to than the other people who get a ride in this car, or even my coworkers. I feel like I should be taking notes on this stuff.” From anyone else, Rarity would think it was sarcasm.

“God, I hate my voice.” she blurts, “I try so hard not to sound like a Southern degenerate but it comes out sometimes. Forget you heard it, darling, please.”

“I like it,” Applejack shrugs, and coughs uncomfortably. Rarity stares. She lets her heart flutter into her throat, and then she grins.

“Then I won’t hold back, Sheriff,” she drawls, watching a blush arch over Applejack’s nose.

The approaching yellow light of the station gives Rarity a pit in her stomach. She’s so lost on what comes next, on how to proceed. She opens her mouth to say anything at all, but Applejack gasps.

“What the—Applebloom!” she yells. What looks like a fourteen-year-old girl runs up to Applejack’s window as she rolls it down. “The hell are you doing outside?”

“AJ!” the girl smiles wildly. 

She sighs, long-suffering. “Hey, kid, where’s Mac?”

“He went home, so I waited for you. Who’s this? Why is she in the front?”

“Now, that’s rude, first you say ‘How are you, miss?’ and then you ask—”

“Tell me inside, I have to get the brownies for Sweetie out of the oven,” Applebloom says, rolling her eyes.

“Wait!” Rarity says, “You know Sweetie Belle?”

“Yeah, we go to the same school,”

“That’s my sister,”

Understanding dawns on her face. “Ain’t your name Rarity? Sweetie says you’re a fashion designer,”

Rarity smiles, hit with a wave of longing to see her sister. “That’s a stretch,”

“It’s not,” Applejack cuts in. Her and Rarity don’t break eye contact until Applebloom speaks again.

“Uh. I’ll see you inside, AJ. Bye, Rarity,”

She waves, sensing Applejack’s gaze at her back. When she turns, Applejack doesn’t look away, and Rarity knows a shift when she feels one. She holds her breath and fumbles behind her for the handle to open the door. After, they hover by the station's entrance, neither wanting to go inside. A blinking sign advertising a nearby gas station shines red and blue and Rarity wants to never break this seal.

Applejack clears her throat. “Do you—”

“Oh my god,” Rarity says, and pulls her in by the collar of her shirt to kiss her. Applejack’s stiff and surprised against her, and Rarity feels a spike of panic. She doesn’t get far in worrying, though, before Applejack sparks to life and walks her backwards, pressing her back firmly against the car. It’s not trapping or violent, and Rarity sighs, enamoured. 

The kiss lasts long enough that Applejack finds her hand up Rarity’s halter top, bordering on indecent. Rarity is seconds from shoving Applejack in the backseat, pulling her wide belt out of the loops by the buckle. She files the thought away for a later time and separates from Applejack carefully. 

Rarity watches her gold eyelashes brush against her face as she pants softly, before raising her eyes to meet Rarity’s and offering a hesitant smile.

“This is not just to get out of being arrested, by the way,” Rarity assures. 

“I know. I’m onto you, Miss Rarity. You’re a good person.” Her hands settle a little firmer, a little lower on her back, and Rarity nearly swoons. “You know…” Applejack starts, abashed.

“What is it?”

“I was gonna let you go, anyway. You know, before you forced your way into my car. I don’t think you really deserve to be arrested just for going a little bit above the speed limit—which is much too low to begin with, anyhow. Driving without a license ain’t even a harmful crime, either.”

Rarity cocks her head, beaming helplessly. “But you saw me speeding,”

“Must have been the wind?” Applejack's smile and shrug are endearingly mischievous. Rarity throws her head back and laughs, feeling more at home than any businessman in New York could provide. 

The first whisper of sunrise washes half of Applejack’s face a pale bronze, and Rarity grins.

“You’re terrible,” says Rarity, and kisses her again, sweet as pecan pie.