Rainbow Dash and her parents flew through the sky. Firefly’s saddlebags bulged out and glass clinked together with every flap of her wings, while steam rose out of Streak’s bag. Dash turned her head, looking at her parents.
“Remember, I like this guy. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“I think it’ll go fine, Dashie.” Streak chuckled, “I hope we get there soon, I don’t want this end up warm.”
“Kid, I don’t do stupid,” Firefly grumbled, “Hope they like Bourbon.”
“Well…His mom likes cocktails,” Dash responded, “Like the really fruity, umbrella-y kind.”
“What about his dad?”
“I don’t know.” Dash shrugged, “I didn’t see him drink anything when I was at their house.”
“…He’s not a teetotaler is he?”
“No.”
“Hell, then wh-”
“…Dashie, are we almost there?” Streak interrupted Firefly’s response.
“Yeah we’re almost there.” Dash turned her attention back to her surroundings.
---
Time Turner slouched on the sofa before glancing up at the grandfather clock.
“Not time yet,” He muttered to himself.
“Sit up straight. And cease mumbling,” a stern, older voice ordered. Time Turner straightened out before looking behind him. An older earth stallion with a graying mane and dark brown coat frowned back. The older stallion trotted past Turner, revealing his cutie mark: an antique clock.
“You never told me anything about Rainbow Dash’s parents,” he paused, “What is her father like?”
“Bluestreak? Well… he’s…He’s a teacher.”
“What does he teach?”
“…Art?”
“Hrmph.” The older stallion looked up at the clock again, “And her mother?”
“Firefly is… an instructor.”
“Both her parents are teachers?”
“Sort of.” Time Turner paused
“Which is it?” He snapped, “Either they both are or they are not.”
“Dear, calm down.” Turner’s mother appeared bottle of wine in her aura, “I’m sure he has an explanation.”
“She teaches at the Flight Academy,” Turner continued on, “She’s apparently was Wonderbolt material.”
“And she’s teaching foals.” His father’s frown grew, “Hrmph.”
---
“Kid, I know you told me they had money, but I wasn’t expecting this.” Firefly looked up at the home: two stories and spacious. Well-cared for and carefully maintained hedges lined the home and walkways, and a small flower garden sat at the side.
“…Shit, I knew I should have gone with the more expensive bourbon.” She muttered, “Do they have a wine cellar?”
“Mom, the last thing I need is for them to think you’re some sort of drunken lunatic.”
“I take offense to the lunatic part.” Firefly grumbled.
“Can we just go inside?” Streak interrupted Dash’s response, “I think being prudent would be a good thing to establish.”
“Whatever.” Firefly rolled her eyes.
The family trotted towards the front door and stopped.
“Wow, they even got one of those little ‘Welcome please wipe hooves before entering’ mats.” Firefly looked down, “I thought those things were made-up.”
“We live on clouds, we don’t usually track dirt everywhere,” Streak paused, “Although there was that one time when you let Dashie track the liquid rainbow everywhere.”
“How was I supposed to know she tried bringing it home?” Firefly grumbled, “Who looks inside a Wonderbolt’s thermos when their kid comes home?”
“You didn’t notice it leaking everywhere?”
“Guys, can we not do this right now?” Dash asked, “Please act normal, this is the guy I like. Last thing I want his is parents to hate you.”
Dash reached up and grabbed the door knocker, pounding it against the door a few times. Inside, Time Tuner perked up, and got off the couch.
“Let me greet them,” Time Turner asked, “That way we can figure out how to do this.”
“Hrmph.” Turner’s father grunted and trotted off.
“Of course, dear.” Turner’s mother took a seat on the couch as searched for wine glasses.
Turner walked down the hallway, pausing at the front door. As a second round of impatient knocking began, Turner opened the door. Dash flashed a smile before leaning over and giving the stallion a peck on the cheek.
“Hey Turner, we’re not late are we?”
“Hardly. Mother is working on getting the wine ready, while father is…” Turner trailed off and shrugged.
“Hello Firefly, Bluestreak.”
“Hey kid,” Firefly motioned to her saddlebag, “I brought bourbon, shoulda asked Dash first if your folks drink that stuff.”
“Mother only drinks it if it’s mixed and Father prefers Whisky.”
“…Well, too bad.” Firefly shrugged, “More for me.”
Turner trotted back inside, followed by Dash. Firefly and Bluestreak lagged behind.
“Firefly, please don’t do anything stupid,” Bluestreak paused, “I want this to go better than when my parents met you.”
“That went fine.” Firefly grumbled
“Says you.”
“Look at this place.” Firefly ignored him, and motioned at the hallway: portraits of Time Turner and his parents sat on the walls showcasing various points of the stallion’s life. She paused on the last picture: a photo of Time Turner and Dash sitting at a fancy restaurant beaming at the camera.
“They look happy in this one.” She pointed it out to Bluestreak.
“I don’t have to look a picture to know my daughter’s happy.” He paused, “So I know that we shouldn’t screw this up.”
“…Yeah.”
“Hello again, Dash.” Time Turner’s Mother beamed at the pegasus as she entered the room, “Where are your parents?”
“They’re…” Dash motioned towards her parents as they stepped out of the hallway and into the room, “Here.”
“Hello there!” Time Turner’s Mother trotted over to Firefly and held out a hoof, “Fortuna.”
“Firefly.” She took the offered hoof and shook. Bluestreak offered Fortuna his hoof.
“I’m Bluestreak, Dash’s Fa-” he trailed off as Fortuna gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Bluestreak blushed as both Rainbow Dash and Time Turner slapped their foreheads and Firefly frowned.
“Sorry,” Fortuna giggled, “habit of mine.”
“Well, anyway,” Bluestreak coughed, “I brought moustalevria.”
“I’m not familiar with what that is.”
“Ah, it’s sort of like custard made with flour and grape must. My brother owns a Mavro Nimbus vineyard and makes wine,” Bluestreak paused, “Dashie, did we grab a bottle of wine from Uncle Smokescreen’s vineyard?”
“Yeah, I got it.” Dash pulled the bottle from her bag, “Might have gotten a bit shaken up from the flight.”
“Anyway, as I was saying, it’s quite good.” Bluestreak turned his attention back to Fortuna, “But it needs to stay chilled.”
“Ah, please let me take it,” Fortuna’s aura opened Bluestreak’s saddle and pulled out a plastic container. She motioned for the two to sit, “Please, make yourselves at home, have some wine.”
Fortuna left the room as Firefly placed the bottle of Bourbon on the table. Dash and Turner sat next to each other as Bluestreak hung up their saddle bags. Biting at the top of the bourbon, Firefly eventually pried the cap off and looked around the room.
“Turner, you got any tumblers?”
“In the other room,” the stallion got back to his hooves. Dash followed him getting off of the couch.
“I’m gonna get some water. Don’t feel like drinking yet.”
The two left the room as Bluestreak picked up the bottle of wine Fortuna had left and looked at the label.
“Hey, this is from Smoke’s vineyard.” Bluestreak chuckled, “Looks like he’s doing pretty well.”
Bluestreak poured some of the wine out into a wine glass as Time Turner’s father entered the room. The three paused, staring at each other. The edge of Time Turner’s father’s mouth twitched slightly as Firefly’s frown grew. Bluestreak placed the wine bottle down before standing up and trotting over.
“You must be Turner’s father,” Bluestreak held out a hoof, “I’m Dash’s dad, Bluestreak.”
“Clagan.” The stallion ignored the offered hoof and sat down. Bluestreak blinked before sitting back down as Firefly’s frown grew larger.
“Firefly. Dash’s mom,” she motioned to the bourbon, “Bourbon?”
“Is it whisky?” Clagan asked.
“Bourbon Whiskey.”
“Is it Whiskey or whisky?” Clagan asked again.
“What’s the difference?”
“Whisky is worth drinking. Whiskey with an ‘e’ isn’t. Clagan picked up the bottle, “Hrm.”
“…Bourbon’s Bourbon. Who cares how it’s spelt?”
“…Whiskey and whisky are very serious business. Not that I expect someone who likes cheap liquor to understand.”
“Settle down, fly.” Bluestreak grunted as he jabbed his elbow into her side, “don’t do something stupid.”
“I won’t if he doesn’t make me.”
“Oh good!” Fortuna returned, beaming, “You’ve met my husband. Where did Turner and Dash go?”
“They went to get some glasses for the bourbon,” Bluestreak replied, “I’m sorry to ask, but where is the bathroom?”
“Down the hall, second door to the left.”
“Thanks.” Bluestreak got up leaving Firefly alone.
---
“Dash, are you sure you want to leave your mom in there with my father?” Turner asked as he opened a cabinet door and pulled out the glasses.
“Yeah, why?” Dash asked, taking them from him.
“Because…well, it’s your mom and it’s my father.” He closed the cabinet, “You know he’s a grumpy killjoy, and your mom is…shall we say short tempered?”
Dash paused, nearly dropping the glasses.
“Oh. Right.” She paused again as Turner stared at her, eyebrow raised.
“…Well, I don’t hear yelling, so it should be fine.”