Five times.
Damn, we were sore afterwards, but we'd needed it. We spent at least twenty minutes just pounding water and catching our breath. Streak had been right: when death is staring you right in the face, you need to feel alive. You need to have somepony there that you know will catch you when you fall, somepony that's going to take care of you.
And afterwards, Braeburn and I went through the entire roller coaster together. Relief washed over us. We laughed so hard that our stomachs hurt and we couldn't breathe. We took turns crying and telling each other how scared we were and how we didn't know what we would have done. We had moments where we couldn't feel anything at all, where our nerves were completely shot and our brains were too overloaded to process the world around us. And finally, we quietly held each other and counted each other's breaths. He breathes slower than I do, and it relaxed me like a warm blanket on a cold night.
That's not to say that Sunday was just hugs and kisses, though. As we showered together, I looked at Braeburn through wet, matted hair and smiled. "I'm taking you out tonight."
Braeburn dried my wings and worked some of the water out of my mane. "Heh. Not sure I'll be able to walk much, Big Blue. Besides, won't those media ponies see us?"
I took the towel and gently dried his face. "Eh, let 'em. You can be lazy all week if you want to, Applebutt, but tonight, we're celebrating."
The towel covered his eyes, and I could see his ears flick beneath it. He laughed. "Ha! Don't know how much more celebratin' I can handle. You really wanna have two parties in one weekend?"
I took the towel from his eyes and nuzzled his face. "No party. Just us."
He sighed a calm, pleasant sigh. "How about a late lunch, then? The paparazzi won't be swarmin' this early in the afternoon, right? I figure all the stars are sleepin' off the hangover or gettin' ready for dinner, so maybe it'll finally be a little quieter."
I grinned. "Fast learner."
"Aw, I'm just tryin' to keep up with 'em." He blushed and looked down. "Hate to give 'em too much material to spin stories with. Celestia knows it doesn't take much."
"Look at you, learning how to be a celebrity." I playfully pawed at his chest. "You'll have those assholes wrapped around your hoof in no time."
"Hell, I hope not. I've already had more than my fill of practice. Besides…" He grabbed my hoof, brought it to his lips, and kissed it. "They just get in the way of what's important."
We finished drying off and found some decent clothing in our bedroom. Nothing too fancy – just button-up shirts to look a little less casual. I went with a deep blue that complimented by mane. Braeburn wore a white shirt, but he insisted on wearing his apple-clasped bolo tie. I made him wear it loose with the top buttons open so I could stare at his chest, and I told him to leave his hat at home so I could see the sun reflect off that gorgeous mane of his.
He looked into the closet-mirror and grimaced. "Aw… I feel like that guy on the cover of those romance novels. Ya' know, Clopio."
I snickered. "Nah, you're way hotter." With a quick kiss, I added, "Lemme guess: you just read those books for the plot."
"Heh heh. Naw. I just… Hm…" He paused and eyed me, a devious smile running across his face. I could feel the electricity run up my spine, and I braced myself. "Hya!" He leapt up into the air at me.
Without thinking, I flapped my wing and caught him a second later, suspending us in midair. Chuckling, I said, "Damn, Brae! What was that?"
"Blame those novels." He wrapped his forelegs around my neck and hugged me tightly. "I always dreamed of bein' swept off my hooves by a stud like you."
We spent the next few minutes melting all over each other. He rested his head against me and closed his eyes while I flapped my wings and carried him around the condo, nowhere in particular, just enjoying holding him as gently as I could. He was warm. He felt like he weighed nothing at all. He was still breathing slowly, and after every breath, I lost myself a little more in his softness and his smell.
A few minutes later, I set him back down in the bedroom, and we hugged for a long, long time.
After we'd finished, we trotted downstairs and out the door. There aren't any good places to eat on the Estates grounds. Some zoning law or something, I dunno. Didn't matter, though. I just took him to the panini place just a few blocks outside the borders. Same place I brought you this morning, actually.
As soon as we were out of the security guards' jurisdiction, though, we got tailed by a yellow pegasus mare who was very liberal with her camera, but at least she kept her distance. A constant click-click noise settled into the background of our conversation.
Part of me wanted to tell her to buzz off, but I looked at Braeburn and thought, 'Nah, let's see how much he's learned.' I nudged him. "Know what she's doing?"
He rolled his eyes. "Besides bein' a pest?"
I shrugged. "Yeah, but I mean, like, her strategy."
"Huh…" Braeburn thought for a while, glancing back at her a couple times. "Well, she's keepin' her distance, so she probably doesn't wanna cause a scene, because…" His eyes widened, and he flipped his mane out of his face. "Oh! She wants to see where we're goin'. Hopin' we head into someplace we don't wanna be seen."
"Yeah!" I nodded. "And what else?"
"And…" He looked around and bit his lip. "Huh. Ya' know, Sheriff Silverstar used to do this, too. He'd be someplace visible, so we'd know we were safe, but any no-goods would get nervous. He said that's how he'd know who was gonna make trouble. They'd be the ones that'd flinch."
I smiled. "Right. So…"
Braeburn smiled as the thoughts clicked into place. "She wants us to act suspicious, because then she can catch us. Or… at least then she can speculate and write somethin' scandalous. Ha! Got it! We just need to act natural, then," he said with a new bounce in his step. "Hell, we ain't hidin' nothin', so she'll have nothin' saucy to write about. Easy as pie."
Hopping into the air, I floated next to him and planted a kiss on his cheek, not caring that she got a cute picture. "Clever pony."
Braeburn sighed. "Still, she's buttin' into our private lives. Took a picture of that sneaky little kiss, I bet. Almost wish we could lose her." I was about to say something, but he added, "But… that'd only end up in a chase. Better to be the mushy fluff piece in the back of whatever rag she's peddlin', right?"
I landed on the cloud and said, "Right," before I looked back over my shoulder. She gave me a polite little wave, and I waved back. We all knew the game.
"Heh heh."
I turned to Braeburn. "What?"
"You've barely swore at all." He leaned in a narrowed his eyes. "You think she's cute, don'tcha?"
I scrunched up my face and glanced away. "Maaaaaybe."
"Heh heh. Careful, Slick." Braeburn nudged my flank with his. "You're lucky I'm not the jealous type, or you'd get another bump on the head!" The color drained from his face. "Uh…" He frowned and hung his head, and his voice trailed off. "S-sorry. Too soon."
I could feel his body tense, so I pressed myself into him as we walked. "You're fine, Applebutt. I'll be okay, I promise."
"You'd better," he said, cuddling back. "I don't know what I'd do if you hurt yourself again."
"Don't worry, babe. I promise you'll never have to find out."
I'm such a dumbass sometimes.
We got to the cafe, ordered a couple paninis, and sat down among the comforting smells of warm herbs and warmer coffee. The deep red paint job and wooden motif gave the whole place a rustic feel, and besides us and the reporter, there were only two customers and a barista there. We sat down near a window. The mare followed us inside about a minute later and sat at the opposite side of the restaurant, where she could get the best lighting and frame us together. She was probably hoping we'd split a milkshake with two straws and gaze longingly into each other's eyes or something. And… actually…
…dammit. I totally should have let her take a picture like that. I would have looked great.
Our food and drinks came, but Braeburn's eyes kept flickering to reporter. "Celestia, they are persistent, aren't they?" He stretched his neck and managed to smile. "I think this time'll be different, though."
"Why's that?" I asked, very purposefully not sharing my milkshake.
"I can deal with just one of 'em." He smiled. "Though I guess we can't really talk about you-know-what, can we?"
I sucked the rest of my milkshake down and twitched at the subsequent brain freeze.
Braeburn laughed. "You're gonna spoil your lunch that way."
I shook out my mane and smacked my lips. "Duh, this is my lunch. You sure you don't want dessert first?"
He shook his head. "I'm good."
"Meh, have it your way." I pushed the empty glass away. "But yeah, should probably better save the boo-boo talk for home."
Braeburn's head bowed a little. "Sorry to bring it up. Hope it didn't ruin your little date idea, Soarin'."
I threw my head back. "Ha! So we don't get to spend the whole afternoon obsessing over my medical history?" I reached across the table and patted his hoof, smirking and raising an eyebrow. "Oh yeah. I'm pissed."
Say what you will about me. I know how to put a smile on a somepony's face.
We took our time, and even though Braeburn was pretty nonchalant about the paparazzo, I had to stop him from inviting her over to give her "a stern talking-to about her career choices." We played it cool, though, and after we left and trotted back to the Estates, the reporter left us alone. She'd gotten what she'd needed (if not what she'd wanted), and Braeburn had gotten to practice the game, too. He'd been right on the nose: a picture of us eating showed up near the back of Cosmare in a small blurb about "Stars in their Daily Lives." Just one paragraph, too, which is a win in my book.
We took it pretty easy on Sunday night, and on Monday, we were both surprised that Eagle Eye, the guard that had escorted us before, showed up at seven in the morning. I mean, I'm told he showed up at seven. He and Braeburn were chatting over coffee when I woke up and came downstairs. Braeburn had finally convinced him to come in and join us for a real breakfast. He'd made quiche with a flaky crust, and it was still hot when I got my slice. Braeburn said it was as close to pie as he was willing to serve that early in the morning.
Eagle Eye swallowed the last of his coffee, stood up, and saluted me. "Good morning, sir. I've been sent over as an escort. Spitfire wants me to keep you two safe today, so if there's anything you'd like to do, just ask."
I smirked. "So, you down for a threeso–"
"No, sir. And Spitfire said to tell you she'd tan your hide if you made that joke."
"…Dammit." I froze, but a moment later, I rubbed the last of the sleepiness out of my eyes. "Wait, tan my hide? That doesn't sound like her."
Eagle Eye shifted. "I'd… rather not repeat what she actually said, sir." He grimaced and crossed his hind legs. "It got a little graphic."
We weren't in any rush, but the condo felt unsettled with Eagle Eye waiting around for us, so we brushed our teeth and left home pretty quickly.
Eagle Eye helped us get around town and kept the crowds away, doing everything from scouting ahead to talking to managers to politely and not-so-politely asking fans to stay back. Good thing, too, since a photographer for the Equinerer had been taking pictures at the Academy, noticed me missing again, and dashed over to the border of the Estates. Eagle Eye had caught her and snuck us out without too much trouble.
We spent most of the day just running errands, and I felt a little thrill go up my spine when Braeburn rattled off a list of things the house needed. It made me seem like an irresponsible tenant in front of Eagle Eye, but it also meant Braeburn was investing himself more in our home. As we moved from the hardware store to the furniture store to the office supply store, that feeling only grew. My wingtips tingled.
But more than anything else, Braeburn loved grocery shopping. His eyes lit up when we made it inside the grocery store, and he practically galloped to the produce section. Braeburn moved with an energy I hadn't seen since Las Pegasus, and Eagle Eye and I were left in the dust. Don't get me wrong: Braeburn wasn't careless with the food. He turned every potential vegetable and piece of fruit over in his hooves, examining it, squeezing delicately, sniffing it for freshness. "You gotta smell near the stem to see if it's ripe," he said, holding a melon up to my face. It was true – I could smell it, but by the time I could say anything, he'd already stuffed it into his bag and moved on to the tomatoes.
I chuckled. "Need any help, Brae?" He either didn't hear me or ignored me. "Uh… Braeburn?"
"Hm?" He perked up and turned around. "Oh, sorry. Missed that. Got kinda caught up in all this." He made a sweeping motion over the produce section, and he stood up a little taller when he realized Eagle Eye was keeping everypony else away so he could have it all to himself. "Feels good to be back in my element again. I like the kitchen, but there's somethin' to be said for a good harvest." His voice mellowed, and his smile waned a hair. "And this is about as close as I'll get for a while, sadly."
I felt a pang in my chest and said. "You, uh, need any help?"
"Heh. No thanks. I'm pretty particular about what I'll cook with." He turned to a crate full of apples and picked one out, polishing it on his chest fur. "Course, these ain't quite as good as back home, but they'll do." He kissed the apple in his hooves. "Won't ya', little buddy?"
Something at the back of my mind felt uneasy, but I told myself, 'He'll be okay. This can be his new orchard.' I sat and watched. Braeburn had his fun, and convincing him he had enough was like pulling a colt away from the slides on a playground.
We made it home by the early evening, and Eagle Eye stayed for dinner. Braeburn made us a tofu dish with a tomato and mozzarella salad while Eagle Eye and I had a good, strong drink.
Yeah, I know what you're thinking, but Braeburn insisted. We'd agreed to get rid of all the booze in the condo, but he wasn't letting me waste that much money by just throwing it out, which I told him I'd do in a heartbeat. He said it would be an insult to the craft and to the ponies that couldn't afford luxuries like good liquor. I told him I could afford it, but he said that he had been raised to waste not and want not and that he was just concerned about my "flippancy with fine alcohols," and naively, I believed him.
We ate. The food was delicious, and… yeah. Pretty chill night. Eagle Eye told us he'd be back at eight in the morning to take me to my follow-up with Doctor Hope, and just before he left, he saluted from the entryway. "And don't worry, sir. Spitfire won't hear that you propositioned a subordinate."
I winced. "Uh… thanks."
"You're welcome, sir." He nodded at Braeburn. "I owe you for the hospitality."
"Aw, you don't owe us nothin'," Braeburn said, slinging a dish towel over his shoulder. "It's been a pleasure talkin' to you, and we appreciate all your work keepin' the media off our asses."
Eagle Eye stood tall, chest out. "Just doing my job, sir. I'll see you tomorrow." He saluted one more time and left.
We cleaned up, I got my pie for the night, and we went to bed. Like I said, it was a chill day. We hadn't had to feel anything too intense that day, which was an unbelievably welcome break.
Just like he'd promised, Eagle Eye was back the next morning, over half an hour early. Braeburn made sure I was up by the time he arrived, saying, "It ain't right to be sleepin' when we have a guest." Braeburn brought Eagle Eye in, and with some prodding, Eagle Eye admitted he'd hoped to be invited for breakfast again.
We ate Braeburn's pancakes – better than Big Mac's, though admittedly not by much – and Eagle Eye laughed. "Mister Apple, if Equestria ever goes to war, I hope you'll serve your nation by cooking for us at the front lines."
"You foaling?" I asked, wrapping one foreleg around Braeburn and shoving another delicious, fluffy bite into my face. "He'll be at the peacekeeping table. One bite of this stuff, and we'll have a truce in no time."
Braeburn blushed and quietly ate his pancakes. I think those were some of his favorite moments, the times where he felt like he was useful and wanted and needed. If I'd been a better coltfriend, I'd have realized how much he'd missed that feeling and how much he needed to go back to Appleloosa.
We finished breakfast and got ready to go. Eagle Eye had ordered a sky cab to be doubly sure of our privacy, and a short ride later, we were all back there: Hope's office.
The building didn't look so scary this time. The double doors weren't nearly as unnerving, the ticking clock didn't drive me crazy, and the time passed quickly. Braeburn did still cuddle me, though.
We got called back after just a few minutes, and Eagle Eye waited in the lobby, where a young filly had been pestering him about the military. He was patient, though, and answered all her questions, at least until she asked why stallions and mares wore different armor around their backsides. "Ask your mother," he said, looking into the distance.
Braeburn and I walked tall that day, heads high as we marched into Hope's office. The books didn't scare me, but just to be safe, I didn't try to read their spines. Hope sat in his big chair, smiling. "Welcome back, gentlecolts. Very happy to see you again." He got up, shook hooves with us, and then gestured to two chairs in front of his desk. "Please, have a seat. This shouldn't take long."
We sat, and I asked, "Why? You already cured me or what?"
Hope laughed from deep in his chest. "Ha-ha. I'm sorry, but no. It's only that, generally, ponies don't like staying here longer than they have to. I certainly can't blame them." He sat down, too, and pulled a file out of his desk. "I'm going to go over my full diagnosis, and then I'll give you some basic prep work to do for your first session with Doctor Soul. I've already heard from Fire Streak that your appointment is for Monday morning. Is that alright?"
I nodded at Braeburn. "Sounds good to me."
"Excellent." He set a hoof on the file. "Now, if it's alright with you, I'd like to show you an image of your brain." His voice lowered a few pitches. "I'll warn you that it can be quite shocking."
Braeburn shifted. "I think we're ready."
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Lay it on me, Doc."
He turned the file around, and I saw the picture. It was black transparent paper with a big, white, spongy looking thing in the middle. And on the left side, highlighted in red, was a small section of my brain that looked slightly shriveled compared to the rest. My stomach leapt to my throat, and I couldn't stop staring. My voice cracked as I said, "That all? Seems pretty minor. I-I'll be healed in a week."
Hope smiled. "You're taking this very well, though I do implore you to take your recovery seriously. As I mentioned on Sunday, you have damage to Bucka's area." He pointed to the damaged portion of my brain and went into a bunch of technical details that I don't really remember, and for the next twenty minutes, he answered all the questions Braeburn and I had the best he could. He couldn't tell us everything we wanted, though, like how long it would be before I made a full recovery.
But I do remember one thing. After we'd run out of questions, he passed me a copy of the file and looked me straight in the eye. "And Soarin', I need you to listen carefully." His voice was still even and professional, but it took on a darker tone, and for the first time, I saw his eyebrows knit. He made sure I was paying attention before he continued. "For the rest of your life, you'll be more vulnerable to further concussions, but especially in the next several months, you need to monitor yourself carefully. I need to be crystal clear: if you ever feel like you're not flying at one-hundred percent…" He knocked his hoof on the desk for added emphasis. "…then you don't fly. Even a minor headache could be a sign that something is wrong. The Wonderbolts understand how important this is for your safety. They won't hold it against you, and I need you to promise me you'll take this warning seriously. Do you understand?"
* * * * *
Soarin' pauses. The wind has taken on a slight chill, but that might just be the dread working its way into my chest. My skin tingles, and I hold my breath.
Soarin' narrows his eyes and looks at me. His voice is utterly flat. "You can see where this is going."
All too well. I look back at his atrophied legs and gulp. "The Wonderbolts show in Fillydelphia."
Slowly, he closes his eyes and nods. "Bingo."
* * * * *
I nodded. "Promise, Doc." Even then, I knew I didn't intend to keep it.
Braeburn figured me out, though. "Be serious, Soarin'. I want you to promise me, too. I don't wanna lose you." His voice cracked slightly, and his eyes glistened.
And I gave in. "Okay…" I said quietly. "I promise you, too. I won't fly unless I'm one-hundred percent."
He snuggled me. "Thanks, Big Blue."
Radiant Hope spoke up. "In the meantime, I'm writing you a prescription for an alchemical agent. You can pick it up at the apothecary down the road. It won't heal you, per se, but it should at least keep things from getting much worse."
We thanked Hope again, and then we left (though I did get in one more crack about Braeburn being a better bottom than his husband).
Eagle Eye took us to the apothecary, we filled the prescription, and we went home. The rest of the day was pretty boring. We put on some music and played an old board game I had tucked away in my closet, but it was painfully clear how little I had for entertainment around the house. When you're barely ever home, who needs that stuff, right? I always had plenty to keep me occupied.
And Braeburn made damn sure I took my medicine exactly when it was prescribed. It tasted awful, like rotten pear mixed with dirt, and I had to take two spoons of it every day. Oh, and it made my brain itch. Just… weird.
Eagle Eye stayed for a walk around the Estates and a late dinner, and then he left to hoof-deliver a copy of Hope's report to the 'Bolts. At the kitchen table, Braeburn read the rest of the report to me for a few minutes until I got too uncomfortable, which led to him holding me, which led to some long, slow sex on the couch. We cleaned up and sat back down at the kitchen table, and I saw Braeburn eyeing one of the cabinets. You can guess which one. He fidgeted more and more the longer the silence went on.
Gently, I asked, "What's up, Applebutt?"
Braeburn sighed, then looked up at me. After a pause, he said, "I wanna pour you somethin'. That alright?"
'…Huh?' I involuntarily shook my head around and then raised an eyebrow. "Uh… Applebutt? That's probably a bad idea. You're just going to want one, too."
He lowered his head. "That's kinda the point, Big Blue. I need to practice sayin' 'no' before I go to another party or somethin'. I… I need your help." He looked at me, searching my eyes. "And I know you won't let me down. So can we practice? Please?"
My chest felt tight, and sirens went off in my brain that he had an angle, like he would eventually try to play me for a drink himself.
But the more I looked into his eyes, the more I believed him. My suspicions drained out of me like dirty bathwater, and I felt unclean for not trusting him. I sighed and said, "Sure. Anything for you, babe."
He smiled warmly. "Thanks, Big Blue."
Braeburn made me a rum and cola in no time flat, then set it down in front of me. I paused, then raised the glass to him and said, "Ya' know, if you're into torturing yourself, I know a shop we can visit."
He chuckled, "Well, I hope it won't torture for long. That's kinda the point of this whole exercise." He looked around the room. "But, uh, let's talk about somethin' else."
"Like what?" I lifted the drink, but I stopped just as the glass touched my lips. Braeburn was staring at the glass, and his wide-eyed, hungry expression gave everything away. It was like watching a lion stalk a gazelle – he was single-minded, and he knew what he wanted. I could see the doubts behind his eyes. He was wondering if one drink would hurt.
He wasn't alone, though. 'I won't let you down, Braeburn.'
Neither of us moved until I opened my mouth wide and wrapped it around the whole rim of the glass, distending my jaw a little. He stifled a laugh and tried to keep a straight face, but I sucked on the glass like a bottle, flicking my tongue in the drink like a dog, and Braeburn lost it. I laughed, too, and after we settled down, the quiet that followed didn't bother me.
Dreamily, Braeburn said, "Tell me a story."
"What kind?" I asked without breaking eye contact.
He shrugged. "Somethin' about you. Somethin' happy. A nice memory. Like that."
"Okay. Uh…" I lifted my chin and thought. "Okay." I leaned in. "Did I ever tell you I had a pet frog? Sort of?"
Braeburn chuckled and leaned in, too, one hoof on the table. "Naw. How'd you manage that?"
"Okay, so…" I took my first drink. It was mixed well, and the sweetness of the cola played nicely off the rum. It burned a little as it went down, but I refocused and said, "I used to sneak down to the ground after school to play with him. Sometimes it took a while to find him, but Froggy really liked hanging out in this hollow log by a lake that was pretty close to Cloudsdale. I'd bring him random junk food and try to feed it to him. He wouldn't always eat it, but he was pretty chill. He'd let me pick him up, too, but he hated it when I flew with him. He didn't do much, but when he wanted to, he could jump really high."
Braeburn smiled. "That's cute. So what happened?"
I took another big drink. "I mean, nothing. Not really. You said happy, right? I got bored after a couple weeks and stopped going. He probably didn't even know who I was. I just liked him." I shrugged. "I mean, I didn't have to deal with him dying or anything. Or, like, leaving. We just kinda parted ways."
"Heh. Most pet stories end up sad."
"Well, not this one." I drank the last few gulps and set the glass down. "Your turn. Lay it on me. What's the happiest thing you got? I'm talking like… colt in a candy factory on free puppy day for his birthday party, but like, happier than that. "
His eyes unfocused, and he wore a dopey smile. "Meeting you."
"Ha! You mean when I got a concussion or when you spat in my face outside your house?" I whapped him playfully with my wing. "How about something I wasn't there for."
Braeburn nodded. "First dance in Appleloosa, then, for sure. It was after we'd gotten the water tower set up, along with as many houses as we'd had wood for. We were beat, but we'd all committed to bringing a dish for a city-wide potluck, and you never renege on your commitments to a potluck. I thought everypony would fall asleep before dessert, but then Pridesong pulled out his guitar and just started playin' whatever came to mind. Maribelle joined in singin', and soon, all twenty or so of us were dancin' with an energy we didn't know we had. It felt right, and it helped us realize that, hey, we could make this crazy idea work. Buildin' the town wasn't all toil and hardship. It could be fun, too, and we could be a part of somethin' bigger. We'd needed that. I liked that feeling so much, I asked Pridesong a few days later if he'd do it again, and we've been havin' dances every weekend ever since."
I beamed. "So that's how you became mayor. "
"Heh. Kinda, I suppose. I organized a big meal the next week, and I helped anypony that needed it to get set up. From there, ponies just kept asking for my advice, and when I wasn't tendin' the apple orchard, I was more than happy to help a neighbor out. Then we started havin' to fill out financial paperwork to send to Canterlot, and Silverstar figured I'd be good at it, since I'm always mindin' the books for the orchard, and nopony had any objections, so it just kinda happened. Been that way for a couple years now."
I smiled. "So that dance was your first big event."
"You could say that." He sighed. "I do miss it. Don't think I've ever missed this many in a row before."
I brushed my wing against his side. "Hey, you said this was a happy story."
"Yeah, I know…" He looked up at me, smiled, and patted my hoof. "It'll be okay. I got what I need right here. Maybe we could swing by the next time y'all tour?"
I sneered just slightly. "We're… not touring out west for a while."
"Yeah, I figured." He shrugged. "I'll manage," he said quietly as he stood up and walked over to me. "Long as I got you safe and sound, I'll manage." Braeburn leaned in and kissed me long and deep and warm, a hoof wrapped around my neck. His breath was hot in my mouth, and his tongue explored all over my teeth and the insides of my cheeks. My eyes fluttered, and we moaned together. Feeling him so intimately was heaven.
He pulled away, gave me dreamy eyes one more time, and said, "Better not stay up too late tonight, ya' sexy Wonderbolt. Captain's gotta attend to his duties in the morning."
I nuzzled him. "Yeah, I know. You ready for bed, too?"
He nodded. "I'll see you up there."
Braeburn pulled away, and I watched him walk slowly out of the kitchen. I focused on the wiggling of his ass and how deeply he'd kissed me. I ran my tongue around my mouth, trying to remember the way it tasted.
And my heart sank, because my mouth tasted like rum, and because Braeburn smacked his lips once as he went upstairs.
I was pretty quiet that night, but if Braeburn noticed, he didn't say anything. I wanted to ask him if he'd intentionally tried to get just a taste off of me, but I didn't want to admit that I might have failed him. 'He wouldn't do that,' I told myself. 'He just wanted to kiss me. It was just a coincidence. He'll be okay. He's happy here, and like he said, I'm all he needs.'
I cuddled him extra close that night, and despite my worries, I slept well, spooning the stallion of my dreams.
In the morning, Braeburn made breakfast, and I put on my uniform. Eagle Eye showed up to escort me, like it was our regular routine, and I kissed Braeburn goodbye. "See you tonight, Applebutt. Don't jerk off too much."
"And ruin your pie? Perish the thought!" He nuzzled me. "Love you, Big Blue."
"Love you, too." The previous night already seemed like ancient history, and as I got my salute from Eagle Eye, I walked outside, looked out at the sun, and took off, ready to face the day.
The flight over to the Academy was easy. A couple reporters tried to head us off, but I gained a new respect for Eagle Eye's speed as we zoomed onto the grounds before any of them got close. After we checked in with security, Eagle Eye left to report in. I headed over to the Green Room, where I found Spitfire in the hallway.
She smiled at me. "I knew a bump on the head wouldn't keep you out long."
I flared out my wings and held my head high as I gave my Big Mac-iest, "Nnnnnope!" I saluted her. "So, what am I doing this week?"
"Besides dodging reporters, you're on transitions. Streak and I have the program worked out, but you can add some flair if you're up for it. I get final approval, though. Are we clear?"
Transitions are great once in a while. It's usually for secondary teams, but sometimes Reserves can sneak in, which is an easy way for them to make main squad. You basically just do short stunts while the techs reset or the other 'Bolts get water. The tricks all look impressive, but they're pretty easy. They're mostly crowd-pleasers – stuff like the Icaranian Sun Salutation – that appeal to ponies with poor taste.
The best part, though, was that Spitfire was giving me some control, and any discomfort I felt melted away. "Crystal clear. Thanks, Spitfire."
"No problem." Coolly, she added, "Heads-up: avoid Bottom Line. He about pulled his mane out when I told him what happened to you, and he doesn't even want to see you now."
"Meeeeeee?" I said, dramatically turning up my nose and holding a hoof to my chest. "Avoid Bottom Line? How will I eeeeever manage?"
We talked a little longer about the training regimen for the week, and then we split. After that, I stopped at my office to fill out some paperwork. It was a mix of medical leave documentation and forms that explained my absences and upcoming therapy.
…which turns out to be a lot harder when you can't read. Who knew, right?
But I didn't let it get to me. Sure, my pulse jumped up when I had to start the first couple sentences over for the fifth time. And sure, I started tapping my hoof and biting my pencil so hard it snapped in half. And suuuure, I kept fantasizing about taking that stupid paperwork, ripping it to pieces, feeding it to a hydra, and then bucking that hydra into the sun while swearing so loud they'd kick me out of the 'Bolts, but I didn't let it get to me.
Luckily, Streak swung by about twenty minutes later, and he found me sitting in my chair being perfectly calm. "You, uh… doing okay, bro?"
I sighed. Or growled. But probably sighed. "Ugh, no. Bunch of medical forms and releases, and I need to–"
"You do know we have secretaries, right?"
I cocked an eyebrow. "Since when?"
"Well, we don't, but just grab somepony from Hurricane Hall. They're always looking for something to do. Full-timer, though. Wouldn't want a random intern or something spilling your medical history to the press."
Calmly, I peacefully decided to serenely take his advice, because I'm tranquil like that.
Streak was right. Things had slowed down since the scandal had broken, so a mare named Parchment was able to help me out. She was an off-white pegasus with a blue mane and tail, and she didn't talk much. I think the only thing she said was, "What would you like me to put here?" for a hoof-ful of questions. Honestly, I don't think it took any longer to have her fill out the forms that I would have done on my own, even if I was reading at full capacity. She was lightning-quick at writing things down, and she didn't ask more than was necessary.
After that, I flew out to practice. We were on the plateau, like usual, with most of the main squad practicing aerial stunts in the cloud courses above and the secondary teams practicing take-offs on the paved runway. They worked like well-oiled machines, and by that point, both Spitfire and Fire Streak were out monitoring them. Some of the trainers had set up a massage therapy tent, which Wave Chill was taking full advantage of, and the early summer sun kept everything warm without being hot. Landing near the center, I thought to myself, 'This is how it should be.'
Fleetfoot spiraled down and landed in front of me after her turn on the course. Through that lisp of hers, she saluted and said, "Good thing we've got a third captain now, Soarin'. I'd hate to make Spitfire's job any harder." She snickered. "Of course, I guess it's actually a lot easier with you out of her mane."
I thought back to how much that would have stung just a month and a half prior, how I hadn't been able to even take a compliment from Fleetfoot and had snapped at her in front of everypony. Her words didn't hurt anymore. This was her way of welcoming me back, and I silently thanked Luna for the effect Braeburn had had on me.
Buuuut that didn't mean she was getting away with hit. "It'll be even easier once you work your left bank turns. Now, give me twenty laps in the zig-zag rings!"
Fleetfoot smirked. "Too bad you're not running the–"
Spitfire's raspy voice boomed from across the plateau. "Your captain gave you an order, Wonderbolt!"
Fleetfoot snapped to attention. "I mean, SIR, YES SIR!" She crouched down, launched, and was halfway through her first lap by the time I stopped snickering.
Spitfire flew over next to me, and I gloated, "Still got it."
"Yes, I do," she replied airily. "And since you're so good at identifying good turns, why don't you show her how it's done, Soarin'?"
I saluted. "Yes, ma'am!" Nothing was going to keep me down, and I got right back into the routine, just like slipping on a skin-tight suit.
Practice was practice, just like I wanted. I ran drills, talked to my team about the transitions, and we modified what Spitfire had put together to feature Stormfeather a little more, since he'd been on the cusp of making main squad for so long. We went hard, and I was just as attentive to the team's performance as Spitfire. I would alternate between practicing with the team and standing on the sidelines while they ran the same stunts over and over again. I shouted stuff like "Pull back – you're two beats ahead!" and "Tighter turns out of the spiral!"
Of course, I needed the practice, too. Streak came by and judged me as harshly as he did the rest of the team, and Spitfire swung by for more commentary while the main squad was on break. It didn't shake me, though. Up there, flying with my team, I wasn't a head trauma victim. I was the captain of the Wonderbolts, and even as I pushed myself as hard as I could, I felt free. Nothing could touch me. Not the concussion, not anxiety about Appleloosa, nothing. Flying was finally back to the way it was supposed to be. It was my release. I knew then that I would stay on the team forever, and… and I'm not afraid to admit that I choked up a little on one of the breaks. And even when my teammates saw, they didn't laugh. They understood, and I understood. I was back, and everything was going to be okay.
My wings were obviously sore by the end of the day, but I finished strong, and after screwing around with the guys in the locker room for a while, I put on my captain's uniform – the one with the pockets – and flew over to Celestial Hall. It's the only on-campus building that sells tickets for the shows. It's a small cloud building that isn't much more than a box office with a window and some storage in back, but if you're a Wonderbolt that wants to get someone admission, it's where you go. There was something special I needed, and I knew they'd get it for me if I asked nicely.
…aaaaand if I gave them an absolute assload of money.
I put in the order, and the stallion at the counter said it would be about a week before they arrived. It was okay, though, since they gave me a temporary replacement that was just as good, at least for that Friday's show. I slipped it into my pocket, lanyard and all, and took off for home, and as exhausted as I was, I still outpaced the reporters on the way back.
I walked into the kitchen, and the condo smelled wonderful. Cilantro, fresh tomatoes, mouth-watering sautéed onions, freshly-fried tortillas… I rushed into the kitchen and stuck my nose into Braeburn's mane, taking a deep whiff. The scent was just what I wanted: apples, earth pony, and me. "This smells amazing, babe."
Braeburn giggled and shoved me away. "Aw, ya' goof. I ain't takin' the blame if you find a hair in your food. Now wash up. It's almost ready."
"In a sec." I kissed him sweetly. "Tell me about your day."
He stirred some beans with a wooden spoon. "Honestly, it was a little borin', but I managed. You're certainly lookin' fancy, though. Did you have an interview today?"
"Nah. I just… needed the pocket."
Braeburn covered the beans and wiped his hooves off on a towel by the stove. "Why's that?"
I smiled, reached into my pocket, and pulled out a laminated backstage pass. It was complete with a Wonderbolts-themed lanyard, which I slung around his neck. "Ta-da!"
"Aw, thanks, Blue!" He sat down and turned it over in his hooves. "Wow, got my name and everything! Laminated, too. Fancy!" He chuckled and looked back up at me. "Now all I need is a pair of wings to actually get to the show, and I'll be set."
I wrapped a wing around him and brought him in for a hug. "I'll be your wings, Applebutt."
He tensed, but then he pressed his face into my chest. "My only wings, Big Blue."
That night was wonderful. We did everything together, and after spending the day away from Braeburn, talking to him felt like our first date all over again. It felt like coming home from school and talking to Dad – everything was new and exciting, no matter how boring it should have been. The time apart, even as short as it had been, made me realize again how happy I was that we were together. Braeburn kept asking questions and being excited for me, and he offered a sympathetic ear when I told him about the paperwork. He didn't have anything to report from the day, but he was happy to listen, and we slipped into our comfortable evening routine for the rest of the night.
Thursday flew by. I got to practice early, worked hard, and didn't worry about anything all day. It was fulfilling. It was what I wanted and what I needed: a normal day, full of the pressure to perform at my best and the knowledge that I had my team behind me. And after that, I came home for dinner and pie with the pony I loved. Nothing better.
A lot of celebrities pretend the high life is wearing the latest fashions and living it up in unsustainably giant mansions, and for a while, I had tricked myself into believing it, too. I think that's what Sapphire Shores and I never understood when we were together. No, her lifestyle isn't the good life, at least not for me. For me, it was a warm dinner and a warm pony, the same pony I could always count on every night. I had what I needed – Braeburn was staying with me. Days like those weren't the most exciting or the most scandalous, but they're precious to me. They were the days where we just got to be together, and everything was right, and if I could only relive one part of my life forever, it would be those days.
Friday's practice was lighter, and the show that night in Manehattan went off without a hitch. Even if we were just the transitions team, we put on a damn fine show. There were no reporters trying to scoop us, the audience didn't need to know about my head injuries, and my loyal fliers put on an excellent performance that set the crowd roaring.
But all that noise melted away when I was in the air that night, because I knew that down in the crowd, looking right at me with the special backstage pass I'd gotten just for him, was a stallion that had stolen my heart. At that moment, I knew for sure that we could make it through anything together. I was his wings, and he was mine.