A fire in his heart

by basalisk120


Chapter 1

Spitfire lounged tiredly at a table in one of Canterlot’s finest bars, her flight suit unzipped down to her chest, and her goggles on her forehead, displaying her large, warm eyes. Around her, the rest of the Wonderbolts mingled with the public, making conversation, dancing to the music, and generally having a good time. They were cooling off after their latest performance, and the last in their grand Equestrian tour. They’d started in Canterlot, and Spitfire had promised the team that they’d finish there too. Canterlot was by far their favourite location, and for many good reasons. Not only was the city in a perfect locale for their most spectacular stunts, and it had one of the best night skies of any city in the country, it was also the fact that, being the capital city, Canterlot had by far the best hotel rooms for the team, often giving them access to the same rooms as visiting dignitaries and other upper-class ponies. Even with their expensive training rooms and homes, the royal Canterlot suite was exquisite beyond compare.

Not to mention, it was the perfect place for a little romance…

But for once, Spitfire wasn’t on the ‘prowl’ as the other Wonderbolts liked to put it. After a few drinks, many of her colleagues would joke about her ‘appetite’ for ponies after a tense performance. She liked to say that it was about relaxation, but it was as much about companionship as anything else. Besides, being a celebrity drew a lot of ponies, and nopony could disagree that a lot of them were attractive.

Sure, she did feel unkind on occasion, choosing almost anypony that took her fancy for relaxation intimacy, just to satisfy her primal instincts. Sure, she was far from the only pony that did it, as none of the ‘Bolts were actually tied down to anypony else, and a life on the wing did get rather lonely, but the others did consider her a little prolific, and it did reflect rather badly on the team when it got out. Sure, she managed to play it off when she was caught entertaining a pair of upper class mares, or a particularly attractive fancolt, and she could ignore the press on the most part, but the looks that the team gave her made her feel like a young filly caught breaking her family’s priceless heirlooms.

Maybe that was why she was trying to exercise some self-control tonight. Unusually for her, she’d only had a couple drinks, and was trying to keep to herself and her friends. Of course, this hadn’t gone unnoticed, and her friends had shared more than one laugh at her attempt at chastity.

It was just such a shame that Soarin wasn’t doing the same.

According to her undercover intel, (Fleetfoot) somepony had managed to rope the blue stallion into a drinking contest, (The winner of which was still unclear, as he had apparently become side-tracked halfway though) and was now by far the drunkest pony in the establishment.

Until a few moments ago, she had been content to watch the inebriated blue stallion bumble hilariously around the building, trying to make conversation with friend and stranger alike, and failing utterly. But since those two mares turned up, she had been forced to scowl at her drink, muttering under her breath.
To anypony that wasn’t as drunk as Soarin, it was easily obvious what they had in mind, and they weren’t trying to hide it.
Normally, she wouldn’t have minded about any of this, and in fact, she hadn’t really noticed Soarin with anypony else. However, this was probably because she was usually either too drunk or simply not present by the time it happened. What she did have, however, was experience with the next morning. It was always the same, whenever he’d had somepony over the night before…

She’d get a knock on the door of her flat, she’d wake up, trot over to the door, still half asleep, open up, and there he would be, looking like a puppy that knew it had done something awful. Then, she’d chase off anypony that she had been entertaining, clean up the bed as best she could, and invite him in. Then, he’d sob about how terrible he felt, and she’d have to give him awkward comforting noises and tell him it was okay, even though she didn’t understand two things about it. And then he’d wipe his nose and swear that he’d lay off the drink, and he wouldn’t behave like ‘a stupid little colt’ ever again. She didn’t believe him anymore, and she’d hug him and pat his shoulder, feeling so awkward that it felt robotic and jerky. Then he’d thank her, and apologise for waking her up, and she’d say it was fine, and he’d leave.
She sighed and shook her head. The whole thing was endearing, but it would never change. As a wonderbolt, these things would happen.

But today felt different. Just watching them sitting next to him, nuzzling his shoulders, flirting openly, boiled her blood. Perhaps it was because she knew how he would feel in the morning, or perhaps it was because of something else, she didn’t know. But she hated it.

And she wasn’t about to let it carry on.

Glaring, she set her drink down, and got to her hooves. In a moment, she was around her table and striding quickly across the room toward the trio. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fleetfoot hurrying over to her, and she stopped, turning to the quiet mare.

“Spitfire, you look like a mare on a mission, what’s up?”
Spitfire looked at the ground awkwardly. What was the best way to put this without looking strange?
“I’m… Taking Soarin back to his room. He’s had way too much.”
“Really? No offence, but I didn’t expect to see you doing that…”
“Wh-what? Why not?” She said, feeling her face begin to heat up.
“Oh, it’s just… Well, you know, you don’t normally stop him…” Fleetfoot almost mumbled, trailing her hoof on the ground.
“Well, normally, I’m not there to scrape him up off the floor.” She said hastily. “B-besides, you know how he gets after he takes somepony upstairs…”
“Yeah, you’ve said before…” She smiled softly. “Sorry, it’s just… You’ve got murder in your eyes…”
She sighed inwardly. She’d gotten away with it. “Well, would you look at those two? It makes me sick…”
At this, the little blue mare raised an eyebrow. “And what you do is different?”
Spitfire blushed hotly, scowling indignantly. Fleetfoot had a way of putting her in her place. “Hey, I don’t take advantage of colts who are too drunk to say no. What I have is consensual.”
“Well, okay then. But please try not to kill anypony…”
She smiled softly. “I’ll be good, Fleet…”
“Atta girl. I’ll see you at training then, right?”
“Right.” Spitfire nodded, before making her way over to Soarin. She gave the mares her finest glower. One mare had a pastel pink coat and a short, straight purple mane, while the other was a soft teal, a long, wavy green mane flowing down her shoulders. If she didn’t hate them both so much, she could have considered them attractive.
“Alright ladies, show’s over. Clear off.” She made a jerking motion with her forehoof, pointing at the door.
“Oh, and if it isn’t Spitfire, the fine captain,” the one on the left said, turning to face her, while the other stroked Soarin’s cheek lightly.
“Well observed, dear. Now get lost.” She said flatly, frowning.
“What, without having a little fun with your colleague here?” The other said, smiling.
“That’s exactly what I mean. You know as well as I do he’s got no idea what’s going on.”
“Oh? And that’s a problem? I thought that was your kind of thing, Spitfire…” She leant in close, fluttering her eyelids. “Or perhaps you’re just… Jealous?”
Spitfire growled. This time they’d gone too far.
“Honey, I’m an athlete, and I’m stone cold sober. Do you want me to take things outside? I’ll lay the both of you out on your backs.”
“Oh, is that a threat?” They said in unison, stepping away from the confused Soarin, and in front of her, trying to look intimidating. She glared back at them, ready to start throwing punches.
But then she heard a familiar, suave voice on her left, and she turned, confronted with her fiery-maned wingpony, Firestreak.
“Can I bother you two fine mares for a drink? My pleasure…” He said with his signature, irresistible voice. He flashed them a warm, welcoming smile. The duo glanced at him, then back at Soarin, clearly torn. Soarin, the Wonderbolt’s second in command, was clearly the more important prize, but Firestreak was a master with the mares, and Spitfire knew he wouldn’t give in until he had them.
“Or I could ask that lovely little mare over by the door…”Firestreak said, breaking the silence and raising an inviting eyebrow. Spitfire kept up her ferocious glare, and after a couple moments, the mares decided that it would be more effort than it was worth to keep chasing Soarin when there was a perfectly eligible stallion offering them a drink.
“That sounds delightful…” One of the mares said, still glowering at Spitfire as she trotted past her, standing next to Firestreak. The other mare followed suit, and they made to leave.
“How about I take you two to the bar,” He said, looking back and giving Spitfire a meaningful look. She owed him. “I’ll buy you anything you like…”
“Oh, you absolute gentlecolt, you…” The pink coated one said, nuzzling his neck lightly as they left.
Spitfire shuddered violently. If she looked like that when she flirted, she was never drinking again. She cantered over to Soarin, who was gazing vacantly at where the mares had been a couple minutes ago.
“Hey, wake up, lover boy. I’m taking you back to your room.” She waved her hoof in front of his blank expression. In return, he drunkenly shook his head, his eyes focussing on the yellow mare before him.
“Wha… Spitfire? Why are you… What are you doin’ here?”
“Taking you to bed, apparently.”
“But… Wha happened to those other two?”
“They went away.” She said firmly, frowning. “Now come on, you’ve had too much.”
“Okay…”
“Alright then, get up.” She said in a vague attempt at a mothering tone, , pulling at one of his forehooves with both of her own.

Crash!

“Okay Soarin,” She said to the stallion who was now sprawled on the floor. “You’d better be able to get up, because I am not carrying you all the way to the suite.”
“A’ight…” He slowly staggered to his hooves, leaning heavily on his captain. In return, she rolled her eyes, draping her wing over his shoulders and walking him to the door.
High winds, who was talking to some other mysterious celebrity, raised her brow at her as she passed. She smiled grimly at the puffy-maned pegasus.
“Widdle Soarin’s out past his bedtime and I’m putting him to bed before he does something silly…” She said in a childish voice.
High winds frowned, but when Soaring tried to wave at her and nearly brought them both to the floor, she smiled slowly and nodded.
“Don’t have too much fun now…” She said, smirking slightly.
“Oh believe me, I’m trying…” Spitfire said sarcastically, leading him to the door and pushing it open for him. As she forced the reluctant Wonderbolt through the doorway and into the cool midnight air, she could have sworn that she heard a quiet snigger behind her. She ignored it, trying to keep the unsteady colt on his hooves as he ambled across the street.
“Really Soarin, I know I make mistakes, but you’ve made a proper ass of yourself tonight…”
“I’m sorry captain… I didn’t mean to, I promise…”
Spitfire scowled. She really wanted to stay mad at him, but he was so sincere, and he sounded so apologetic, but it was no use.
“Okay big guy, it’s alright… Just… try to exercise some self-control, okay? I managed it…”
“But you’re smarter than me…” He moaned. “It’s easier for you…
“Soarin dear, you’re lovely, and a great flier, but being smarter than you is no harder than learning to walk.”
“I… Yeah…” The blue stallion mumbled sadly, staring at the floor.
“Oh come on, big guy, cheer up. You excel in other areas.”
“I do?”
“Sure, why not?”
“Thanks, Spit…” He murmured, hugging her clumsily. She felt her face heat up, and she wriggled, pushing against him with her wing.
“Hey, come on, don’t get sappy with me, Soarin.” She hurried slightly faster down the empty street, heading for their quarters.
“Sorry, I just…” Soarin mumbled, before trailing off, looking away. Curious, Spitfire continued dragging the wasted stallion down the road, watching her breath as it cooled and solidified in wisps around her face as she walked, the only sounds breaking the night time silence being the light, steady patter of her hooves, and the heavy, random hoofsteps of her inebriated friend stumbling as he leant on her.

But the seconds turned to minutes, and Soarin remained silent. Frowning, Spifire nudged him.
“You just what, Soarin?”
“Oh, umm… S’nothin’, really…” He said, his slurred speech suddenly awkward and nervous. Really, Spitfire should have just ignored him. Later, she wished she had. She should have just assumed that he was drunk, and therefore somewhat dull-witted.

But she wasn’t a nice pony, and she didn’t like things being kept from her.
“Listen hun, either you tell me now, or you’re sleeping on the street tonight.” She said flatly, stopping. She was getting this out of him, one way or another.
“Well… Alright, I’ll tell you. But you have to promise not to tell Spitfire…”
She rolled her eyes. “You can count on me, Soarin.”
“Thanks, it’s just…” He paused for what felt like at least a minute, as if trying to piece together his thoughts through his muddled senses.
“I… I always liked you, Spitfire…” He said softly, looking at the ground.
“What?” Spitfire said, suddenly staring at him. Surely, he hadn’t just-
“I… said I always liked you, Spitfire… A-and I still do…” He was even quieter now, and he was blushing furiously. She could feel her own face reddening, and she looked away.
“Come on, Soarin, you’re just drunk. Let’s get you back to bed-”
“N-no! I mean it, Spitfire… I… really like… I really like you, Spitfire… That’s…. That’s why I always confide in you, and I always go to you when I mess up…”
She paused. The big lug did have a point there.
“A-and when… When I wake up next to somepony, I… I always wish that… it was you, instead…”
Both of them were blushing a bright scarlet by this point, and Soarin was fixated on the ground. They both stood there, Soarin still swaying uncertainly, for what felt like an hour. Spitfire was desperate to speak, trying to force words into her mouth. But she just didn’t know what to say. How long had he felt like this? Why hadn’t he told her before? What did this mean for her? She didn’t know.

After what felt like an eternity of awkward, she managed to force a few word out.
“C-come on, hun… Let’s get you to bed, eh?”
“Y-yeah… Umm… Okay…” He muttered in response, his face pale and blank like some sort of trauma victim.
“Come on, Soarin, lean on me… You can’t walk by yourself…”
“I… umm… okay, Spitfire…” His face still glowing crimson, he staggered toward her, leaning on her side once more. She could feel that his body was stiff and tense, but he was clearly still very drunk. As they set off, she shook her head sadly. Despite her best efforts to make things right, Soarin was going to hate himself in the morning.

She spent the rest of the short journey up into the royal courtyard in awkward silence, Becoming more and more tired as Soarin began to relax once more, placing more and more weight on her back and shoulders. Normally, she wouldn’t have minded too much, but his head was resting on her back and neck, and she was sure that he was trying to sniff her mane in his semi-conscious haze. It wasn’t normally the sort of thing that bothered her. After all, she had gotten far more intimate with ponies she didn’t even know in the past, but there was something about the fact that it was Soarin, something about the way he had been so… affectionate. Sure, physical attraction was something she was really familiar with, but she hadn’t really had a crush or stable relationship since she was a filly, and frankly the concept unnerved her, especially with a co-worker. Or a friend so close as Soarin…

She shook her head vigorously. Behind her, Soarin groaned at the movement, but she ignored him. She just wanted to get him in bed as soon as possible so she could sort things out alone.

Before long, they found themselves looking up at the large tower that made up the royal Canterlot hotel, standing in the immaculate courtyard, lined on all sides by rare and exotic plants and exquisite decorations.

She trotted quickly through the open double doors, now supporting most of the stallion’s weight. She was starting to wonder if he was already asleep. Smiling with determination, she dragged him briskly over to the lobby, where a tired-looking hotel worker was sitting behind the desk. He was a young unicorn, with a grey mane and a white coat. He was leaning on the desk, his head supported by his hoof, and apparently daydreaming. Whatever that daydream was, it seemed to be a good one, because to Spitfire’s surprise, he failed to notice the clattering of unsteady hooves that heralded her approach.
“’Scuse me?” She said quite loudly.
The receptionist cried out, jumping almost a foot into the air, before falling backwards off his seat. Spitfire had to resist a smirk as he slowly gt to his hooves, holding his head with a groan.
“M-miss Spitfire… I-it’s a pleasure…”
“Likewise, she said, a smile gracing her lips.
“I’m… here too…” Said Soarin, breathing heavily on her neck as she did so. Resisting a shiver , she looked back, shushing him, before returning to the receptionist.
“Yeah, he’s had a few too many. Could we have our room keys?”
“Oh, certainly, madam.” The unicorn turned around to face the rows of shelves for a moment, murmuring quietly to himself as he searched for their keys. In a few seconds, he found them, and retrieved them with his magic.
“The penthouse suites again, ma’am. I take it you know how to find them?” He said, levitating them to her with his magic. She nodded in reply, clasping the keys tightly between her teeth.
“Wonderful. You two are in rooms three and four, as per usual. If you forget, it is written on your keys.”
“Shanksh.” Spitfire replied, her mouth full of metal.
“Will that be all, madam?” He asked politely.
Spitfire nodded again, turning Soarin slowly around and making her way toward the far side of the grandiose entrance hall, where the stairs and lift were located.

She looked up at the huge, resplendent staircase, and immediately decided that there was no way she was carrying Soarin up them. Instead, she trotted over to the lift, and propping the wasted stallion up against the wall and tucking the keys into her flight suit, she called the lift down.
“Okay Soarin,” She said, turning to him. “When you get back up to your room, you’re going straight to bed, and you’re not coming out until morning. Got that?”
“Yes, ma’am…” He slurred.
“Hey.” She cuffed his shoulder. “We’re not training right now, you can call me what you like…”
“Yeah… Sorry…”
“That’s okay, Soar.” She said, smiling slightly. “Okay, and don’t come to practices tomorrow, okay? Let’s be honest, you’re going to be feeling pretty rough with just the hangover. And you’re gonna regret what you said earlier, too.” She said as the lift pinged behind her, the door slowly opening.
“I… Said something?” He said, his face awash with confusion as he staggered for the door. Spitfire caught him, leading him toward the lift.
Had he forgotten? That would make things easier, not to mention much less awkward between them.
“Oh, it was… nothing important, really. Don’t worry about it.”
“Okay… Spits…”
She pushed him into the lift, leaning him against the wall again. “Spits?” She said incredulously, raising an eyebrow.
“Y’said I can call you anything…” He gave her a lopsided smile.
“Well… Yeah, but… It’s a horrible nickname…” She said, slightly annoyed that he had outwitted her while drunk.
“I like it…” He said as the door closed.
Spitfire pressed the button for the top floor. “Well, if you call me it again, I’m gonna hit you.”
“Aww… Why?”
“Because I’m mean like that, hun.”
They stood in silence and listened to the faint hum of the lift as they ascended to the penthouse. Spitfire felt more and more awkward as the time went by, her mind wandering back to Soarin’s confession not long before. Just standing in a confined space with him felt much more uncomfortable than it had used to.
After what felt like an eternity, the lift pinged again, and the doors swung open.
“Alright Soarin, we’re on the home straight now… Almost there…”
“Okay, Spitfire…”
She smiled at him as best she could, walking him to room four. Past experience had told her which room was hers – She always got room three. As quickly as she could, she retrieved the right key, holding it in her mouth as she inserted it into the door. Shifting her position so that Soarin’s weight wouldn’t overbalance her, she raised her forehoof, turning the key.
Wearily, she finally pushed the door open and dragged him over to the bed, spilling him onto the massive piece of queen sized furniture like a farmer spilling a sack of potatoes onto the back of a cart. The pale blue stallion squirmed slightly, closing his eyes and mumbling quietly. Spitfire smiled, and leant in closer.
“Sleep well, hun.” She said softly. Soarin smiled peacefully in turn.
“Thanks, Spit…fire… For getting me here…”
“Hey, no problem… That’s what friends are for, Soar.”
“Y-yeah… Friends…” Soarin’s smile lessened slightly, and he relaxed into the cushiony softness of the mattress.
“C’mon, get some sleep.” She said, tousling his mane lightly.
“’Kay…” He opened his mouth slightly as he started to drift off to sleep. Even when out of his mind, Soarin never had trouble sleeping. She smiled at him fondly – now that she mentioned it, Soarin was actually pretty attractive. Why hadn’t I noticed that before? She thought to herself. Then, she shook her head, frowning. I must have had more than I thought...
Deep in thought, she trotted over to the door, glancing back at the sleeping stallion every so often. He was like a happy go lucky foal – you just couldn’t dislike him, even if you wanted.
The moment he stepped out of his door though, her smile vanished. She trotted quickly over to her door. She had some thinking to do…



Hope you liked it! This was just a little something I came up with over a few days while trying to break an art block… And I think it worked! This is technically the end, but if enough of you express an interest, I might just extend it…