Spitfire paid quite a bit more attention to her recruits than most officers might, especially those she considered her pet projects.
Those special few to catch her eye and earn the right to have her stamp their file with her special “handle personally” label were a rarity among rarities. If ponies came looking and willing to show effort, she’d happily direct them to the Wonderbolt Academy so she could see whether or not they were worth her personal attention, if they should come up the ranks like any normal prospect, or if they were better off finding their career somewhere else.
In recent years, two files had been stamped. One had been put on hold after Lightning Dust had proven herself too much of a showboat and along with nearly killing several civilians and a princess when she wrecked the cloud busting track.
That her new girlfriend so happened to be that same princess was almost funny. Almost. It was probably a good thing they hadn’t been seeing one another at the time, or Soarin would’ve had to call for MPs to pull her off Lightning Dust.
The other file, of course, belonged to the mare standing before her.
Rainbow Dash.
Spitfire could almost remember it by heart. Headstrong, loyal to a fault, and willing to fight and train until her wings fall off to get her spot.
Everything a proper Wonderbolt should be.
The mare before her, however, was different. Rainbow Dash looked down at the floor, only glancing up for a few seconds before wincing and averting her gaze again. Her wings rustled and twitched, she shifted her weight from side to side.
Nervous. Well, that was certainly a change.
Almost as much as she was when she got to spend a day with us after that contest. Spitfire took a step closer. “You okay, Dash?”
“Fine!” Rainbow said, her voice cracked. “I’m fine! Perfectly fine! Why wouldn’t I be fine?”
“You look like you’d rather tangle with a manticore than be here right now,” Spitfire replied. Smirking, she tilted her head. She stole a glance at the other mares, her eyes lingering on Twilight’s beautiful face a moment, then stepped in close and dropped her voice. “You know I’m not gonna drop you from the Reserves just ‘cause you wanna talk about Twilight, right?”
Rainbow’s ears shot up. “How—”
“You’re not subtle, and last time I checked, ‘stupid’ wasn’t written across my forehead today.” Waggling her ears, she added, “And it won’t be ever again, if Soarin wants to live to see twenty-eight.”
A snort of laughter escaped Rainbow’s lips. “He seriously did that?”
Spitfire nodded once. “Yeah. And I kicked his tail to Vanhoover and back for that one.” She stepped forward until she was shoulder to shoulder with Rainbow and gave her a nudge. “Nice to see you can still laugh with me a bit. So what’s on your mind?”
Rainbow froze, her laughter died in the back of her throat. Her eyes flitted to the floor again as she began shifting from one hoof to another all over.
Where in Equestria had that loudmouth who could fly fast enough to bring a rinkydink town like Ponyville within a nose of beating Cloudsdale gone?
Frowning, Spitfire fixed her with a critical stare. The mare before her was but a shadow of the top prospect she’d been ready to go to bat for in front of all the other officers. It was almost as if Rainbow wasn’t sure how to begin.
Spitfire flicked an ear, a smile worked its way across her muzzle as an idea came to her.
She gave Rainbow another playful nudge. “Why don’t we take a flight?” she offered. “We’ll get outta here for a bit, and you can tell me whatever it is that’s got your feathers all ruffled.”
Rainbow beamed. “That’d be great!” Her feathers fluffed and twitched, just itching to fly. She blinked, her grin faltered slightly as she ducked her head and let her ears droop. “I, uh—I mean, yeah. That’d, uh …” Scuffing a hoof against the floor, she coughed. “Yeah, that’d be fine with me. You lead.”
It took all of Spitfire’s self-control to bite back a quip about her being the officer between them, but she managed. She’s here as Twilight’s friend. Be nice. No Captain-Recruit games.
Instead, she smiled and nodded. “Sounds like a plan.” Spitfire stepped over next to Twilight and nosed against her cheek. “Mind if I let her steal me for a little bit?” she murmured, kissing the corner of her mouth.
Twilight giggled, her feathers fluffed. “Only if you promise to come back to me,” she teased. “If not right after, then tonight.” A gleam shone in her eyes, she leaned in close enough that her breath tickled Spitfire’s ear and whispered, “I want to wake up in your hooves again.”
It took all Spitfire’s self control not to throw caution to the wind and pounce on her then and there. Instead, she kissed Twilight’s cheek once again, then turned to Rainbow. Trotting forward, she rustled her wings and swished her tail. “I dunno about you, but after sitting at breakfast with four royals and the night I had, I’m about ready to start doing corkscrews and buzz a few guard towers for kicks.”
There was a beat, then a quick cadence of hooves scrambling against the tile floor. Rainbow was at her side half a second later. “I doubt the guards would be too happy about that. Probably complain to Shining Armor.”
“I know.” Spitfire smirked. “And that’s why I said ‘for kicks’—I don’t answer to him, so all he can really do is ask me nicely. Unless he gets Princess Celestia involved, in which case, pluck my feathers and stuff a pillow with ‘em. ‘Cause then I’m toast.”
She turned right down the corridor and led Rainbow along, passed the paintings of sunny meadows or soft, moonlit glens and a stone bust of Star Swirl the Bearded, looking almost as though he were judging their worth through those blank, white eyes.
It was just so detailed, so lifelike. From the way his face was lined with years of stress and aging, to the way his lips creased into a stern frown like he were observing a pony who should’ve been studying instead of fooling about and wandering through the corridor.
Idly, Spitfire wondered if Twilight ever got the same feeling when she walked down this corridor. Chuckling, she shook her head.
No. Twilight probably had her nose in a book or found herself scrambling along with some important assignment for Princess Celestia.
Or maybe getting that look was part of why she’d be scampering …
Spitfire shook herself. Why in Equestria was she letting herself get so distracted?
It was just a bust.
With a roll of her eyes, she headed for the side door leading out to the gardens. Spitfire pushed it open and let the warm touch of mid morning sun wash over her body. She took in a deep breath as if to bask in its glow, her eyes fluttered shut.
Celestia, I needed this.
Her wings rustled, ready to unfurl and take flight. Spitfire scanned the sky and took note of a few clusters of small, fluffy clouds off in the distance. None close enough to the castle to just hop on up and sit, but hovering over the city to cool off the populace for the warm summer day to come.
“How do you feel like flying?” she asked over her shoulder.
Rainbow shrugged. “I’d be down for a slower pace. Easier to talk that way.”
Spitfire flicked an ear toward her in silent acknowledgement. She unfurled her wings and, with a quick running start, leapt into the air. A few flaps later and she was aloft, flying in a wide circle to give Rainbow a little room to get herself going.
She watched with a critical eye Rainbow take to the air with surprisingly little gusto for a mare of her nature—not even a running start or a good leap into the air, just a few flaps of her powerful wings to get herself some lift before she banked around to fly alongside Spitfire.
Frowning, Spitfire took the lead and maneuvered so they could take a flight over the city, high enough that no bypassers would overhear, but well out of the altitudes reserved for on duty guards and weather ponies.
Perfect for a nice, easy flight and a talk between mares.
Spitfire angled herself closer to Rainbow until she was but a hair’s breadth away, flying together tight formation like they were doing a stadium flyby.
“So, you wanna tell me what it is that’s got you acting so strange?” Spitfire asked. “Haven’t heard you make any big boasts or jokes since breakfast.”
Rainbow cringed. “Sorry. Just been thinking a bit.”
“What about?” Smiling, Spitfire gave her a light nudge with her elbow. “You gonna pull the protective friend routine on me?”
“Uh … kinda.” Rainbow looked away, rubbing a hoof against her shin. “It’s not that I’m not happy or that I don’t think you’ll be cool with Twilight or anything like that—I’m happy for her. And, I mean, I could think of worse ponies for her to get involved with.”
Spitfire snorted. “Wow. Thanks for that ringing endorsement there, Dash,” she teased. “I’ll put that one my resumé.”
Rainbow turned to fix her with a glare. “You know what I mean!”
“Relax, Dash.” Spitfire held up her hooves. “Just trying to lighten the mood.”
With a snort, Rainbow looked off into the distance. “Not helping. Trying to be serious here.”
“Fair enough, sorry. You were saying?”
Again, Rainbow rubbed her shin. “I’m trying to figure out how I wanna say it. Like, it’s not that I don’t trust you or anything, but Twilight’s not exactly like us. If that makes any sense.”
“I got that,” Spitfire said, chuckling as she let her eyes wander over the beautiful city below. “I can’t exactly teleport all over creation, y’know. And I’m pretty sure I haven’t started growing a horn.”
“I meant personality wise.” Rainbow coughed.
Blinking, Spitfire turned to stare at the side of her head. She perked one ear up and laid the other flat against her scalp. “Uh, well, yeah, I’ve noticed she’s not quite as loud. Or really into the athletics side of things.” She furrowed her brows. “What are you trying to get at here?”
Save for the whistle of wind in her ears, there was silence between them.
She watched out of the corner of her eye as Rainbow glided along and chewed on her lip. Spitfire looked ahead in time to see a pair of weather ponies pushing a few low-hanging clouds toward the park in Little Neighpon, headed straight across their flight path.
Spitfire and Rainbow banked together, sweeping around them in a wide arc to give them plenty of room, earning a wave of thanks from the lead weather pony.
“I guess I’m trying to say she’s not gonna be a pony you can mould or form into somepony else,” Rainbow said when they leveled out again. “She doesn’t have the mindset of a Wonderbolt, or even really an athlete. You can’t get in her face and start screaming orders and expect her to take it well.”
Spitfire wrinkled her snout. “Is that what you think I do with her?”
“No! Geez, I can’t say it right!” Rainbow buried her face in her hooves. “Ugh! I’m not accusing you or anything, I’m just trying to give you a head’s up!”
“You seemed fine with me last night. And at breakfast this morning,” Spitfire said.
“I’m still fine with you dating her, Cap. No objection here.”
With a roll of her eyes, Spitfire darted forward and stopped right in front of Rainbow, forcing the younger mare to rear back and flap her wings hard to brake. She crossed her hooves over her chest, flapping her wings in a lazy hover.
“Then what’s the problem?” she asked.
Rainbow looked down, a hoof leapt to her mane. “It’s … It’s not so much anything you’ve said or done that I’ve seen. Yet. But that’s the thing—you haven’t done it yet.” She looked up to meet Spitfire’s gaze, a frown marred her muzzle. “Look, I like you, Cap. I respect you and all the other Bolts a lot. But Twilight’s my friend, and as much as the girls and I love to tease her about how panicky she can be or how much of a nerd she is, we love her to death.”
Spitfire nodded once. “I’ve noticed. And I understand you on that front. Soarin and Fleetfoot are both pains in my backside, but I’d beat a dragon’s face in for them. Or at least try.”
“Yeah. Like Pinkie.” Rainbow chuckled. “Annoying and random sometimes, but anypony else tells her that and I’ll slug ‘em.”
“As your CO, I’m supposed to tell you to put a lid on that temper … but this is mare to mare talking time, so I’m going to conveniently leave that off your file when your tryout comes up.”
“Heh, thanks.”
Spitfire turned and beckoned her along with a wave of her hoof. They continued on their flight, passing by Little Neighpon and headed south toward the park Spitfire and Twilight had their first date.
Warmth flooded Spitfire’s chest. She searched the rolling green field for the tree they’d sat under, her lips tugged into a bright grin when she saw a crowd of foals gathered around it. One of them, a young filly, turned and placed her hooves on the tree while her friends scampered off as fast as they could.
Hide and seek without clouds, huh? Spitfire tilted her head and pulled a face. It didn’t seem right to her since she’d grown up in Cloudsdale, but it’d make for some interesting hiding spots to be sure.
Foals always figured something out.
Spitfire turned her attention to Rainbow Dash again. “So, you’re trying to look out for Twilight,” she said. The wind ran through her mane, whipping it back and forth like it was trying to entice her to play. “Fair enough, but I’m a bit confused. What exactly do you mean I can’t mould her or yell? Not that I was planning on either, mind you.”
Rainbow Dash let out a low whine. “I’m trying to be gentle about this, but I’m really not doing a good job.”
“Then don’t. Be blunt and tell me what’s up—I’d do the same if you were dating into my circle.”
“Blunt?” Rainbow shrugged. “Alright, then.” With a heavy sigh, she ran a hoof through her mane. “Twi’s really sensitive, okay? She likes to make everypony happy and doesn’t like feeling like she’s failed at anything. Hay, she had a nervous breakdown because she thought she was late on a dang friendship report once!”
Spitfire wrinkled her snout. “What the hay is a friendship report?”
“It’s a thing we all used to write up and send to Princess Celestia back when Twi wasn’t a princess, just studying the magic of friendship. But that’s not the point!” Rainbow darted around to hover before her, stopping Spitfire in mid flight. “She’s not like me or any of the other cadets. You can’t browbeat her with something she’s messed up on and expect her to come back for more or put a smile on her face afterward. Or doing the whole name calling thing too much. Egghead is about as far as I can take it, and I’ve known her for years.”
Spitfire’s wings seemed to flap of their own accord. Her tongue felt dry inside her mouth, memories of that letter from years before swam to the forefront of her mind.
“It’s not you, Spitfire. It’s me.”
“I can’t deal with waiting for you to come home anymore … I don’t understand how you can deal with a group that rowdy, or how dangerous it all is …”
“I can’t watch you ready to rage, then try to pretend you’re not angry or passionate for what you believe in.”
All such nice little things. Oh, Daybreak tried so hard to make it seem like she didn’t blame Spitfire for their relationship failing, putting every little bit of flowery wording she could, like she were writing one of her poems.
But it all meant the same thing.
Spitfire was too intense. She didn’t know how to take off her uniform and leave the Wonderbolts behind in the locker room when she came home to see her girlfriend.
How many times had she scared the wits out of Daybreak when she got angry enough to slam a hoof down on the table and leap up, ready to yell like she were about to discipline a cadet?
Enough.
And that was only one reason it failed. All the travel, the parties with her teammates, Daybreak crying because Soarin stuck her with a funny nickname after she passed out drunk …
She was always on the outside looking into the Wonderbolts’ circle, and she couldn’t take it anymore.
Daybreak was a lot like Twilight in that regard. Sensitive, not one given to any particular interest in athletics until she started watching Spitfire.
Spitfire licked her lips. “I wish I could say that hasn’t caused me problems before,” she began. “But that’s a lie.”
“I’m just trying to help,” Rainbow muttered. “I don’t want her hurt, and I can tell she’s happy now … so, I figure if I tell you straight up, things can work better. And stuff.”
“Better and stuff, huh?” Spitfire repeated. She flicked an ear. “I don’t know if I can promise not to be intense or passionate about things, but I can try not to be as abrasive. And I’ll avoid the names, though I thought that went without saying.”
Rainbow ducked her head between her shoulders and gave a sheepish grin. “Just making sure.”
“Yeah. I got ya.” Her tail flicked. Spitfire rubbed her hind hooves together. “I’ll work on keeping it cool for her.”
“Thanks.” With a bright smile, Rainbow offered her a hoof. “We cool?”
Snorting, Spitfire hoof bumped her. “Yeah, we’re cool. I appreciate it.”
“Awesome.” Slowly but surely, Rainbow’s smile grew into a smirk. The same she wore after pulling off one of her big tricks at the Reserves’ practice. “So, since we got the serious stuff out of the way, I’ve got a question I have to ask since Twilight wouldn’t give me an answer without stammering.”
“Sure. Shoot.”
Cerise eyes flashed with mischievous intent. Rainbow closed the distance between them, sidling up next to her and nudging her with an elbow. “Two nights together, I gotta know if my girl got lucky with the Captain of the freaking Wonderbolts!”
Spitfire sucked in her lips, she felt her blood run cold. “I … can neither confirm nor deny anything.”
“Aha! So she did!”
“I never said that.”
“You never said she didn’t!”
“Correct.”
Rainbow grinned triumphantly. “So I’m right!”
“I didn’t say that either,” Spitfire replied, the tiniest of smiles tugged at her lips.
“Well then which is it?” Rainbow’s grin fell.
“Yes.”
“Yes she did or yes she didn’t?”
Spitfire shrugged and flew around Rainbow. “Yes,” she repeated.
“Caaaaaap!” Rainbow whined, zipping over to fly beside her. “You can’t hold back on me like that!”
A thought came to her. Spitfire flipped herself over to glide upside down, her eyes locked with Rainbow’s. Slowly, she brought her right hoof up to touch her lips and drew it across them, then twisted it, and made a throwing motion.
Her lips were sealed.
“Oh come on!”
Spitfire let out a laugh and flipped herself back over so she could fly right. “Don’t gimme that! I don’t kiss and tell, and neither should you, rook!”
“But it’s Twilight Sparkle! One of my best friends!” Rainbow cried, flailing her hooves. “And you’re … you! You can’t leave me hanging on this! I gotta know if my girl got some dang action!”
“Too bad.” With a playful smirk, she flicked her tail across Rainbow’s nose. “Not answering.”
Rainbow fixed her with a glare and made to speak, but paused a moment to let out a sneeze. She rubbed a hoof across her nose. “Fine!” she said with a huff. “But I’m totally gonna needle Twi about it!”
“Go for it. Best friend code is in play on that front. Just don’t expect to hear it from me, and we’re good.”
“Fair enough, I guess. So … wanna race or something?”
Snorting, Spitfire shot her a sidelong look. “You want me to smoke you after giving me the protective friend spiel? Aw, rookie, I didn’t know you cared!”
“What? Smoke me? That’s a laugh!” Rainbow darted forward and bumped their shoulders together. “If there’s anyone getting smoked today, it’s you, Cap! I’ll even let you pick the course I beat your flank on!”
Her wings twitched. Spitfire narrowed her eyes and fixed Rainbow with a glare. Favorite recruit or not, anypony who thought they could outfly her on her own terms was in desperate need of a lesson.
She hummed in thought. Dinner with Luna was later, so she couldn’t exactly spend all day giving Rainbow an education, no matter how much the younger mare needed one.
A smile slowly made its way across her muzzle. She still had one option.
“On three, we head to the southern gate and hit a hard turn,” Spitfire said. “Finishing line is the Royal Canterlot Hotel.”
Rainbow flicked an ear. “Hanging out with Soarin and Fleetfoot before you have dinner with Princess Luna?”
“Something like that. Gotta get my jacket and get cleaned up.”
“… Would it be too much of a total rook slash fanfilly move to ask if I could tag along?” She asked, her eyes wide and dancing with glee.
Spitfire arched a brow and pretended to think it over. There were plenty of ways she could turn it all into a joke, but a thought gave her pause.
She had once been the starstruck filly, gaping in awe of all the Wonderbolts going through the drills while she watched her dad lead the team.
“Nah, it’s totally cool.” Spitfire rubbed her shoulder against Rainbow’s. “It’ll make the transition easier when you join us for real.”
Rainbow gasped and quickly covered her mouth with her hooves to hide a grin. “You mean it?”
“Officially, I have to evaluate you against all the other recruits in the program and consider the merit of adding you to the team.” A smile played upon her lips. Spitfire turned to look ahead. “Unofficially, Fleetfoot, Soarin, and I are just waiting for a spot to open up.”
“That. Is. Aweso—” She stopped short, then gave a cough. “I mean, uh, cool. That’s cool. Start on three?”
Spitfire shook her head. Oh, rookie. “Nah, counter always gets a jump on that.” She nodded toward a pair of weather ponies trying to maneuver a rather heavy cloud, each beating their wings to try and catch up with the rest of their team. “We start when we pass the weather team’s rooks, rook.”
Rainbow turned and gave her a flat look. “I’m really gonna enjoy reminding you that a rook beat the feathers offa you later.”
“Gotta win first, Dash. And even if you do, the fact that you’re a rook will be in place until the day somepony else is the rook.”
Throwing up her hooves, Rainbow let out a frustrated groan. “Has anypony ever told you that you’re a jerk?”
A smirk played upon her lips. “All the time. Usually after I make them fly until they puke. Or, more topically—” her eyes locked on the cloud pushers up ahead. Just a few more seconds and they could start.
“A lot of them say it after I smoke their sorry tails in a race.”
Rainbow gritted her teeth and faced forward. The pair passed by the cloud pushers and took off.
Racing was always a nice way to unwind in between grilling sessions.
Spitfire’s eye twitched with each stroke of the brush through her goldenrod coat, she pinned her ears back to try and ignore her favorite recruit sniggering in the background while Soarin fussed over her.
As it turned out, the chance to taunt Rainbow after beating her in a race—albeit with a rather borderline cheap trick, but she couldn’t just let the kid win—evaporated the very instant she trotted into her suite and mentioned dinner with a princess.
More specifically, dinner with a princess not named Twilight Sparkle. Her head was still spinning with how fast they’d shooed her off to take a shower so they could help her get ready.
She let out a sigh. Trust Soarin to go into full-blown mother pegasus mode the instant he had the chance. Sometimes she wondered just who ran the team. It seemed an awful lot like she bounced between den mother to everypony’s little foal.
Her wings rustled. Spitfire shifted her weight, standing while Soarin brushed her was always a pain. He didn’t just hit the few spots where her coat had gotten a little mussed up, he went through the whole spiel as though she’d just rolled out of bed.
His stupid mother had drilled that one into his head. Yet another reason Spitfire had half a mind to knock on the old battleaxe’s door and make out with Twilight on her front porch.
Just to see the look on her stupid face.
“Stop fidgeting,” Fleetfoot chided from her spot on the couch.
Spitfire scowled. She’d been caught. “I barely moved! How can you even tell?”
Fleetfoot simply smiled and waggled her ears.
Oh, right. Stupid bat-eared mare. Rolling her eyes, Spitfire tapped her hoof. “I could’ve gotten ready by myself you—ow!—know!”
“Uh huh, sure,” Soarin replied absentmindedly. His brows furrowed in concentration as he began trying to brush her coat until it was smooth as velvet. It was almost adorable, really. If not for how rough he could be when he hit a snag.
Wincing, Spitfire flicked a wing across his shoulder. “Careful back there!” she said, watching closely as he made his way to work on her cutie mark.
“Just hold still and relax, would you?” He chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll be done in a second.”
“You said that twenty minutes ago, Soar. I’m starting to think you can’t keep time.”
“For shame, Spits! Didn’t your mama ever teach you that patience was a virtue?” His forest green eyes shone with mischief. “Besides, you’re having dinner with Princess Luna. Dressing you up and making you look like a pretty little pony worthy of taking her fellow princess out is a requirement.”
Spitfire sucked in a breath. “I already have her approval. We talked about that last night.”
“Oh, is that where you were?” Fleetfoot asked from her spot on the couch. Her ears perked up.
“Uh, yeah. Where’d you think I was? Hitting bars all night?”
Sniggering, Soarin patted her back. “No, that’s Rapid’s thing. Actually, we thought you decided to spend the night in Twilight’s room with a necktie on the doorhandle, since you insist you’re a big mare and can decide when to play or not.”
“What’s this about neckties?” Rainbow cut in, eying Spitfire closely. “And am I reading into this, or is playing your coy way of saying—”
“Rook! Soarin! Shut it!” Spitfire snapped.
Soarin’s smirk only widened. “Necktie on the door means that we have a guest over for sex, Dash. And to answer your question.” He looked Spitfire right in the eye and made a show of fluffing his feathers. “Yes. It is.”
“Aha!” Rainbow preened, pointing a hoof at Spitfire. “I knew my girl got lucky! Both nights or one?”
With a groan, Spitfire brought a hoof to her forehead and slowly dragged it down her face. She shot a heated glare at Soarin. “I hate you. All of you. So much.”
“Love you too, Feurball.” Soarin turned to rub his cheek against hers. “Answer the question.”
Sometimes being captain of the same team with her best friends was more of a pain than a privilege. They knew how to push her buttons and go right up against the line, but dance along the edge while she waited in vain for them to set hoof across it.
“I so hate you,” Spitfire grumbled. She turned to Rainbow Dash, gritting her teeth at the expectant look in her star recruit’s eyes. “Both nights. Several times. Do I have to go into detail as to what she said, or does this satisfy you?” Pausing a beat, she added, “You’re included in the hating, if you haven’t gotten the hint.”
Rainbow thought for a moment then shrugged. “Eh, I can deal with being hated. My main mare did me proud!” She hopped into the seat across from Fleetfoot and laid her head in her hooves. “Dating Captain Spitfire and going all the way through the home stretch! Twilight has all of the awesome points right now!”
“All of them?” Fleetfoot flicked an ear toward Rainbow, a bemused smile played upon her lips. “There’s a finite amount?”
“It’s about as finite as the number of laps everypony in the room not named Spitfire will be doing after this is done,” Spitfire quipped. “Keep it up, and I’m adding weights to it.”
“All of the weights?” Soarin asked, smiling as he busied himself with brushing her side.
Her threats weren’t working. She’d have to default to glaring at the side of his head until he burst into flames.
His smile only broadened. Soarin had long since built up an immunity to her patented death glare. Even as she unfurled her wings and flared her nostrils in open challenge, he simply hummed one of his mother’s old Germane songs and finished brushing her coat.
“There!” he said, stepping back to survey his work. He nodded once. “Looking good, Spits.”
Spitfire craned to look at herself, lifting her right leg to get a good glance at her flank. Then she did the same with her left side.
He’d brushed until light shone off her coat, giving her a nice sheen that accented her muscles and curves quite nicely.
Her thoughts wandered to Twilight. How fun it would be to just trot right by the bookish princess, swaying her hips and giving a little swish of her tail before she ducked beneath Twilight’s chin and trailed her body along like a cat, before fixing her with a hooded stare.
She could already picture the way those purple cheeks would darken, how Twilight would stammer as her feathers fluffed and her tail whipped from side to side while Spitfire slipped into the bedroom and left the door open just a crack …
Spitfire felt her cheeks burn. She shook her head as if to chase the image away. Down, girl! We’re not entertaining that princess tonight!
Giving her feathers a little fluff, she turned and stepped close to Soarin. “Thanks for your help,” she said, rubbing their shoulders together. “Even though I’m kind of a pain.”
“Kind of?” Soarin pulled a face and waggled a hoof. “Depends on your mood. And if you find me and Fleet on the couch again with the whipped—”
She jammed a hoof in his mouth, the familiar burn of bile stung the back of her throat. “Aaaaaaaaand I hate you again. Completely.” Turning away, she whacked him across the snout with a wing, then trotted to her bedroom to get her uniform jacket.
Spitfire opened up the closet, her eyes flitted to the lone piece of clothing sitting on a hanger. She fondly ran a hoof over one of the short sleeves before removing it from the rack. A few flecks of dust resting on the shoulders floated up and tickled her nose.
Her eyes crossed, Spitfire’s nose twitched. She opened her mouth to breathe, then felt the familiar tingle. She turned to cover her face with her leg and sneezed so hard her ears popped.
Lovely. She sniffed and looked her jacket over. “I’m gonna have to borrow Soarin’s roller,” she muttered. “Good thing he brought his.”
Tedious, but nothing to fuss over. What was a few extra minutes spent making sure she didn’t have any hairs or dust on her jacket while eating with a princess?
Spitfire gave turned it around to check her medals, her heart sank as her eyes flitted down. “Oh, pluck my feathers!” she groaned. Not good. How was she supposed to explain this to Soarin and Fleetfoot?
Soarin stuck his head around the doorjamb. “Spits? What’s wrong?”
Without saying a word, Spitfire held out her jacket for him to see. She heard him mutter something under his breath before saying, “Spits, what the hay happened to your buttons?”
Here we go. Spitfire kept her gaze fixed on the closet, not daring to turn and meet his eye. “They got ripped off,” she ground out through gritted teeth.
“Okay,” he said slowly. After a moment’s pause, he added, “How did they get ripped off?”
“What’s this about getting ripped off?” Fleetfoot’s voice sounded from the sitting room.
“Spits’ buttons are missing!” Soarin called back.
“No way!” Rainbow chimed in her raspy voice. “Seriously?”
Spitfire flicked an ear at the sound of two sets of hooves walking toward her. Fleetfoot spoke again, this time from beside Soarin. “How the hay did she manage that?”
“Good question! Spits?” Soarin asked, turning back to her. “How’d you manage that?”
Her ears pinned back against her scalp. She could already picture the grin that would spread across his muzzle, the way his ears would perk right up at the chance to tease her. And that girlfriend of his was no different.
Rainbow Dash was the wildcard, but Spitfire was willing to bet she’d join right in. She’d been getting awful comfy with the three of them, a far cry from the starstruck filly who won the Best Young Flyers Competition.
Which left Spitfire with two options: talk or escape.
She’d have to deal with Soarin if she chose the latter. He’d always been the power flyer, and could easily wrap her up tight and hold her against his broad chest while Fleetfoot and Rainbow wheedled it out of her.
Her eyes flitted to her jacket. It was already damaged, it could be sacrificed to help her make a quick escape. Just toss it at Soarin, then give him a good shove into the other two, and she could be out the window before they could figure out which end was up. She would happily take her chances in the air against the three of them if she got a good head start. All she needed was a place to duck into and hide until it was time for dinner with Princess Luna.
Of course, that just delayed the inevitable.
The moment she set hoof in the suite again, Fleetfoot would have Soarin grab her for interrogation.
Spitfire sighed. Damn. She looked down at the carpet at her hooves and mumbled the answer under her breath.
“Wait, she what?” Fleetfoot sniggered. “Say that again!”
Oh right. Ol’ bat ears was in the room.
Double damn.
“I said Twilight ripped them off with her magic,” Spitfire grumbled. “She couldn’t get them with her hooves.”
There was silence. Slowly, she glanced back at the ponies standing in the doorway, promptly wincing when she saw Rainbow sitting on the floor with her hooves stuffed in her mouth and eyes screwed shut while she tried not to laugh.
Fleetfoot simply snorted and shook her head as she brought a hoof to her forehead and sighed. “Oh, Spits.”
“So!” Soarin said, grinning and clasping his hooves together. The way his face lit up was more akin to a foal on Hearth’s Warming morning than a full-grown stallion. “Let me see if I have this right!”
Spitfire let her shoulders slump. “Can we please not?”
“You’ve got dinner with Princess Luna, presumably to discuss your relationship with Twilight, who you’ve had sex with twice—once in the castle itself …”
“Yes.”
“It’ll probably be a nice affair, so dressing up is kinda required.”
“Uh huh.” Why me?
“But you can’t wear your jacket because Twilight Sparkle ripped it off in her haste to get to that first little tumble through the thunderheads.” Soarin waggled his ears. “And now you get to explain to Princess Luna—who’s kinda related to Twilight via marriage—why you’re not in Class A dress when you show up for dinner tonight. Anything I missed, or does that just about cover it?”
Spitfire gritted her teeth and gave a slow, stiff nod. “Yes, Soarin. Thank you so very much for that assessment. Is there anything else you’d like to add to further drive home how thoroughly screwed I am?”
He shook his head. “Nah, nothing to add. Just a request, really.”
“I’m afraid to ask … but I will.” She closed her eyes and braced for it. “What do you want, Soarin?”
She felt his hooves touch her shoulders, she opened one eye to regard the stallion beaming at her with a half-hearted glare.
Soarin simply grinned wider. “Can I please be there when you tell her? Pretty please with cirrus berries, sprinkles, and cherries on top?”
And there it is. Triple damn. “Soarin?”
“Yeah, Spits?”
“I hate you. Go rut yourself with a cactus.”
“Will you let me be there when you tell her if I do?”
Spitfire snarled and threw her jacket down on the floor. She gave him a rough shove, then jabbed a hoof at him and Fleetfoot. “If I survive tonight, the two of you are flying until your damn wings fall off!”
“Punishment for a bit of good-natured ribbing?” Fleetfoot crooned. “Oh, Spits, now you’re just making it worth sharing with the rest of the team!”
That did it. Soarin and Rainbow Dash fell over, kicking their hooves in the air as they laughed raucously while Fleetfoot just fixed Spitfire with a smug smirk.
I can’t win. Sighing, Spitfire walked over to her bed and flopped onto it, covering her face with her hooves and wings. “I hate all of you.”