//------------------------------// // Captain's Curse // Story: Spitfire: Parlour Tricks // by delicate-danger //------------------------------// It had been a long, long tour and Spitfire was glad to be back home in Cloudsdale. As were the rest of the 'Bolts. But none quite so much as Soarin, and Spitfire knew it showed. But not for the reasons the team probably thought. It wasn't pie related. Or even prank related. It was related to her, and she wanted, as per usual, to kick him in the teeth. Or kiss him and drive him half-mad. It was what she did best, after all. And he was humming. Gritting her teeth, Spitfire flared her wings, jumping into the center of the room with ease, her tail mischievously flicking Soarin in the nose as she landed. Feeling his eyes on her, she gave it an extra shake as she straightened up, tapping a forehoof on cloudstone floor of the shower-room. It wasn't a loud noise, but it wasn't a quiet one, either; and it was enough to catch attention. Good. "So, I'd like your opinion on something, team, because it affects all of us. Our image, that sort of thing. Y'see, 'Bolts, I have something to confess. I've known I wanted to change this up for a while, and after the results of our last tour, just recently finished, I was thinking I need a change." A dry chuckle. "They say change is as good as a holiday, right? Well, unlike the Princesses, I don't get those. Just rare days off." A few scattered laughs, here and there. Behind her, Soarin was still to the point of rigid, wings half unfurled as he tried to hide his discomfort. Smirking, she glanced over at him, and winked. She looked delicate with mare-ish features that were often hidden beneath her flightsuit, but, as it happened, Soarin was very familiar with those features. She was a small mare, but she knew that Soarin liked his mares small and feisty. A la la a, her. And she was milking this for all she was worth. "...So, anyway, I was thinking of getting a new manestyle. Something similar to Crash's, but shorter. Sorry, Ships, but there's already enough Fleetfoot fanponies. You don't want me to steal your thunder, do you?" Fleetfoot chuckled. "Nah, Chief. S'all good, if you ask me. Though it seems like Clipper likes the idea - poor stallion. Look at him." The room burst into a cacophony of whistles and hoots, from mare and stallion alike as they heckled their teammate about his current state. Spitfire cast a coy glance over her shoulder, tail flicking from side to side in delight - she had him now, and she was about to make it even worse for poor Soarin. Not that he was going to mind. His powder blue coat was flushed scarlet, eyes squeezed shut, head between his forelegs as he fought to breathe. Looks like she'd have to bring out all her effort for this - he was shutting down, and that was a private state. Looks like it's down to the traditional method for this one. The other ... is behind closed doors only. "Leave him to me," she growled. "Give us some room - I'm going to have to snap him out of it the old-fashioned way." Silence fell thick and fast at the mention of those last words, and all around the room, ears pricked. Oh, they knew what it meant alright. Ancient pegasus courtship rituals, mostly consisting of pony against pony competitions, worked as mare and stallion alike sought to find their perfect mate. And pegasi were entrenched in tradition as much as their unicorn and earth pony cousins; perhaps more so. It was a request, an honour, to be challenged to one such competition in these modern times. So her teammates knew exactly what she was saying by uttering those words in their presence. But first ... she'd have to snap him out of his current state. This would be fun, alright. Snorting, she spun on her hooves, ears flickering uncertainly as she approached her second in command. No words were exchanged as she lowered herself into a crouch, muzzle brushing the floor; and pressed her forehead against his. Green eyes opened, and he nickered softly, relaxing as their eyes met. He knew where they were, body tensing slightly, but slumped again as she nibbled first one ear, then the other. "Sparky ... what are you doing?" he whispered, lifting his head. "The team..." "Are fine, sun kite. But I would like to propose a challenge, in accordance with our old laws ... a Warrior's Request. Do you accept?" His eyes widened. "Do I...?" A swallow. "Spitfire, it would be my greatest honour to accept your challenge. The point of submission?" She winked. "Whomever can hold the other down long enough to kiss them, I would think. Ready, stud?" He shivered in answered, wings flexing, and she giggled as she backed away from him. The crowd of eager, yet respectful, pegasi hovered at the fringes of the room, some of them working to move the cloud benches higher so they could sit and watch the proceedings comfortably. It might be a personal commitment, a private competition between mare and stallion, but tradition was tradition, and it was a warm, fuzzy, thought that the rest of the team would be witnesses to the open declaration of their relationship. In fact, she was delighted by it. And speaking of tradition... Smile fond, and her eyes soft, she reared up to nuzzle him, forehooves planted on his shoulders. Their lips met, and she smirked internally as he growled into the kiss, their tongues darting in and out as the moment deepened. Dragging a wing down the side of his neck, she jumped back, hooves clattering to the ground and winked playfully, before dropping in a crouch, one wing half hiding her face behind ruffled feathers. He paused, head cocked to one side, wings tented at his sides, a foreleg pawing at the air, and snorted, the sound low and deep. Her whinny rang into the silent air, nothing but a cool breeze stirring her mane and tail as it passed through the room. The crowd was silent, no sound from them except rustling feathers and occasional swish of a tail. It was the perfect setting for something such as this, and everything was going as it once been thousands of years ago, as it had been with traditional pegasi courtships. So far, so good. They moved slowly, steps echoing against the cloudstone floor, circling, nuzzling; teasing. A nip here, a nibble there - a swish of the tail or toss of the head, it didn't matter. They were still equines, and while not normal by modern standards, tradition held root in typical equine behaviour. Truth be told, she'd dreamed of being courted this way ever since she was a filly, and ever since she'd first heard of these ancient pegasine traditions. But to do this with Soarin ... it just made even more special, even more surreal. Not that she'd ever tell him that. She hopped over him, wings flaring for extra lift, and when she landed, spun around to face him. His eyes glittered like emeralds in the light, and the expression on his face ... heat rippled through her, ears turning suddenly in his direction as he whinnied, soft and alluring. Her eyes widened, muscles freezing into place, as he approached her, the answering call, instinctive, trapped in her throat. Did he just ...? No way... "S-Soarin?" she stammered, breaking the silence. "A-Are you sure?" He dipped his head, teeth grazing her neck. "Never surer, Sparky. If you'll have me." The room broke into whispers, and she sat down with a thump, legs unable to support her. Shaking, she leaned into him, listening to his soft whispers, feeling his gentle caresses as he groomed her, nipping and nibbling affectionately from time to time. She could hardly feel it. Well, she could, but it didn't register. She was too shocked to feel much more than his coat against hers, and the smooth floor beneath her. Foals ... Sweet Celestia, the prospect was - terrifying. But even more so than that ... She'd been fine with them just saying that they were a couple. That was all she'd wanted. But now - now she didn't know how to feel. He'd just proposed. Proposed. To her. Asked for her hoof in marriage. In front of the entire team. And she ... she didn't know what to think. Had he gone and asked for her parents' permission behind her back? Sneaky, sneaky Soarin. But the funny thing was that she didn't mind. She wanted to accept. She didn't think she could live without him, despite the ... unusual circumstances surrounding their relationship. So... A shuddering sigh. "...Y-yes... I accept." Sweet Celestia - he'd proposed. And she - she'd just accepted. She didn't care that he didn't have a ring; it wasn't his style anyway. But wow. This was not how she expected her day to turn out. At all. ...And top it all off, she now had a wedding to start planning.