//------------------------------// // Mile-High Club // Story: Buckin' Apples (and maybe Stallions too) // by JakTheYak //------------------------------// The two had decided to take a “scenic route” on their way to the complex, at Soarin’s request, obviously. The pair figured foolishly there was plenty of time to kill before they really had to get Cherry Jubilee’s note to Spitfire. “Nah Brae, trust me. Spits is a total workaholic. I’d bet my impeccable ass in our-” he paused to make a face so lustful it bordered on comedy “-skin tight performance gear that she’s gonna be in the office for another three hours at least after her shift finishes.” He made characteristically overblown motions to accent the little jab at his co-captain. “Uh-huh… First of all, I dunno what kinda pony would wanna see that—” Soarin gave him a roll of the eyes and an unconvinced leer, soliciting a small gulp and blush “— and second off, I just don’t wanna be made the fool and miss this big ol’ opportunity for me and my kin. Appleoosa’s my first and foremost.” Braeburn’s naïve determination reminded Soarin of a young colt still enthused with the world, a lot like himself in days long since passed. His energy was infectious, and Soarin couldn’t help but giggle and snort at this weird little earth pony he’d found for himself. Soarin had a bit of a reputation for being both bachelor and breaker of hearts, some scorned lovers had decided to start taking up arms against him and his “pastime”. He stood wholly by his actions. Could he really be blamed for getting a little bored? That didn’t stop the now unending barrage of hit pieces getting printed on him in the biggest newspaper in Cloudsdale. But now looking back, he did, in fact, come to realize just how cruel he’d been to his past lovers. This doofy foot-slogger managed to do something Soarin thought himself immune to: enrapture Soarin with the whole pony, not just the body. He knew that they’d only just met, but these past few hours felt like they’d been spent with somepony more than just a one-night stand in the making. It felt almost as though he were with someone he’d known his whole life. Jeez that sounds cheesy as hell, he remarked internally. “Hey doofus, lets’ check out that cheese shop over there” Soarin motioned a hoof towards an unassuming little “ye olde, mom and pops” looking building. The clouds had been specially molded and dyed to look like something from pre-industrial Trottingham. As the two walked in they separated and went off to different displays set out around the shop. The place had a nice “wooden” aesthetic to it, with lots of earthy greens and browns dominating the coloring. They even had some real wood in here! Braeburn hadn’t seen a lick of actual, honest-to-goodness wood work since he left the balloon ferry. The shelves vertical mountings were still clouds, but the horizontal panes were now enthralling the earth pony. As he breathed in the scents of pine and cheese around him, Braeburn couldn’t help but feel maybe a might homesick. After all, Appleoosa had been the one and only thing on his mind since he’d put roots down in the quaint little town. The place was his first love, and he’d turned now many fine young mares and stallions in the name of his precious township. The only problem was a lithe blue jackass making funny faces at him through a oddly rounded vase from across the room. “Soarin, ya bozo yer head looks like it’s about ninety percent cheeks!” “Ha, you say it like you’re not thinking about squeezin’ em right now!” “I’m not gonna do you the service of saying that yer right, but I’m also not gonna say that you’re wrong…” The two continued to banter until the shopkeeper, an elderly green and orange unicorn mare, finally asked to two if they were planning on buying something, or if they were just going to sit in her shop and have themselves a quaint little date on her time? The two excused themselves from the store in a rush of flustered indignance at the mention of the word. “Jeez what’s the geezer’s problem?” Soarin asked with shocked angst that would make any pubescent nihilist hot and bothered. “Well I mean, we were making a bit of a ruckus in there, so I can’t rightly say I blame her.” “Hey, I didn’t come here for a voice of reason!” Soarin joked mirthfully. “Yeah well you’re the one that decided that we oughta go ‘round the ‘scenic way’, so I say you ain’t got a thing to blame but yourself!” Braeburn gave Soarin a teasing sneer and a peck on the cheek. They were beginning to walk on a main drag, Thunderlanding Avenue. I’m not rightly sure if that street name could be more self-aggrandizin’ and over dramatic if it tried. “Hey Soarin.” “Yeah, Brae?” “The street name reminds me of you.” Braeburn had to actively try to fight the smiling attempting to break from between his lips. “Huh? How do you figure?” “It’s got issues with over-compensation!” Braeburn couldn’t keep himself together any longer and broke down in laughter, but Soarin just rolled his eyes and silenced the noise box walking alongside him with a kiss. Braeburn’s eyes widened in surprise as he flushed deeply, his gasp caught greedily by Soarin’s muzzle. “Mmm-” he collected himself and broke the kiss “-now you’re just playing dirty and you know it!” Soarin made heavy bedroom eyes and put a sultry roll into his voice “I’m playing dirty and you love it you mean.” Braeburn’s breath hitched and he found himself floundering like a foal, looking for something, anything to escape Soarin’s gaze. His eyes eventually settled on looking down the throat of the avenue before them. Trollies rumbled along the center of a road about 15 feet wide, split into three segments each five feet wide. The center segment was crossed gingerly by hoof traffic after vigorous looks in both directions but was mostly left bare. The left and right segments were mainly for hoof traffic as they were lined by rows and rows of stacked buildings with two or three floors to them all packed shoulder to shoulder. The inside section of the outer road segments, those next to the trolley track were seeming reserved to taxis and carts by some unspoken rule. At least Braeburn had assumed that the rules were unspoken as there were no signs and the carts always bowed to those on hoof. The two continued their walk on down the avenue with tails entwined as the monolithic shape of the Wonderbolts’ compound began to loom in the horizon’s eye. The Wonderbolts’ central office was titanic! The damn thing was second only to the Weather Factory in size. It didn’t dominate the central Couldsdale skyline, it was the central Cloudsdale skyline. The “building” was more a massive metroplex made of multiple disparate buildings of all shapes and sizes. The entire place was larger in landmass, or was it cloudmass? Either way it covered the same acreage as the entirety of Appleoosa, rails and orchards included! In the dim dusk light, every building began to glow from the inside, turning the uniform blues and wispy whites into a gilded glimmer of gold, bathing the pair of stallions trotting, tails entwined, ushering them into the hundred-story skyscraper plastered with billboards and logos. “Well I must say Soarin’, y’all certainly know how to make a first impression. This place is nearly a city entirely unto itself!” Brae exclaimed, eyes twinkling in wonder as he moved his head about, drinking in every last drop of his surroundings. “Ha, well, we are a world-renowned group of aviartion masters… that and Spits keeps us on a tight budget. I think she and the brass got like a few hundred billion bits coming in every quarter that goes straight to development and investment.” A minty bolt of lightning shot passed them, “Hey Lightning Dust!” Brae was trying to shake his ears to get them to pop as he winced at the discomfort, “That lil’ missy went and blew my ears out like a speaker at a shindig!” Soarin’ had the most aggravatingly adorable look of concern on his smug muzzle “Ah geez Brae! Here, lemme help ya out” he singsonged as he brought his lips to Braeburn’s ears, planting smooches on both. “Gah! Stop that, you big ol’ bully! That even got nothin’ to do with poppin’ ears!” Braeburn exclaimed, struck with a fit of giggles.