For the past few hours the team had underwent several practice drills. The team was to sustain the test of ability. A test that would essentially test wing power, strength, speed and of course, ability. The captain, Spitfire and, Soarin’, Second in command, watched from down below. They felt the wind blow in their manes with every lap the team flew. They were to watch for any lack in the teams form or pattern. About every 6 months or so, full fledged Wonderbolts were required to take the test of ability. It was the same test that recruits were required to take upon starting - but a bit less basic.
If the two Wonderbolts were to encounter a mistake, they were to write it down in their clipboard. Soarin’ looked down at his clipboard for a moment only to realize he hadn't written down much. He had still written down quite a bit, but not an exceptional amount. He had a few bullet points with some very noticeable traits he had noticed with an individual team mate. He trained his eyes to the side to get a quick glimpse of Spitfire's clipboard. He almost let out an audible gasp at her work. Her paper had been almost completely filled. When he felt her begin to turn her head, he threw his eyes back to his own paper, grabbing his pen and pretending to write. He could feel her piercing brown eyes stare back at him for a moment, but he chose to ignore it. It took everything he had not to smile and laugh. When she didn't turn away, he turned to look at her. It was hard to read her emotions as her face always suppressed the same expression. He heard a grumble come from the mare, he chuckled sheepishly. Looking up to the sky, he spotted the pony in the lead.
Soarin’ quickly spotted his cousin Fleetfoot, first. Her glossy white mane and turquoise fur stuck out of the pre-cut holes of her flight suit, letting him know he was looking at the correct pony. He wasn't quite surprised about her place in line, she had always been second best, right next to spitfire. He found it interesting at how easily she was able to fly past the other ponies at top speed without breaking a sweat. He watched her fly diagonally into a transparent tube,--the rest of the team following suit. They flew in a formalinized pattern, turning and swooping in unison as if they were a flock of birds in the sky.
On her right was a faded blue stallion with a darker blue mane. He recognized the stallion right away. Spitfire had spent more than a third of their free time talking about her fiancé, Wave Chill. The couple had become very known around campus. It was at most impossible to miss him. He had remarkable speed much like the others. He specialized in form, something even Soarin’ himself had struggled with for years in time. How Wave Chill had managed to fly with such professionalized form still remained a mystery to him. Fleetfoot was the first to fly out of the tube. One by one they flew from the tube, and formed a straight line from Fleetfoot. When everypony was out of the tube, they spread out more evenly. After all, this was a race.
Soarin’ then found himself paying attention to their newest teammate, Rainbow Dash. It was not a challenge to spot her as her mane was more than a fine giveaway. She zoomed past the others, putting herself next to Fleetfoot in the lead. He looked past them to the finish line, which was just ahead. His emerald orbs looked with focus upon the two racing Wonderbolts. He could sense Rainbow Dash speeding up, putting the two Wonderbolts a full hoofs length from each other.
Half a hoofs length,
A nuzzle,
And finally she flared her wings pushing past Fleetfoot, tearing through the tape of the finish line. She let out a shriek of excitement as she bounced up and down. He couldn't help but smile and chuckle when she started her classical 'victory dance.' He snickered at his little cousin's facial expression. Her mouth was agape, she was absolutely aghast. He wished he had brought along a camera just to capture this precious moment, It was absolute gold.
Fleetfoot held out a forehoof in front of the enlivened rainbow mare. Rainbow Dash stared for a moment but gleefully accepted.
“Congratulations,” Fleetfoot congratulated the mare, shaking her hoof. “It’s not everyday that somepony’s able to beat me.” She smirked.
She giggled excitedly, “Thanks!” She almost yelled, upon hearing herself she repeated, but quieter this time. She let go of the turquoise mare’s hoof and smiled sheepishly.
“I mean,” She cleared her throat. “Thanks.”
Soarin’ absolutely admired her. The way she was so confident in herself and in her flying, her tough, ambitious yet playful attitude always made him feel so good. He found the way she constantly wanted to race adorable, whenever she won she’d give him the same excited squeal of delight. It made him feel prouder than any trophy or accomplishment could. Sure, trophy’s and life lifting goals were great, but not as great as the happiness Rainbow Dash expressed. Every time she won a race she’d purposely brag all about it in his face, which he secretly didn’t mind at all. A simple smile to her face was far better than winning any race.
“Soarin',” A voice called his name.
He smiled warmly, he held his pen up with a wing, the button of his pen tracing against the bottom of his chin. He chuckled to himself.
“Soarin’!” The voice called his name again.
“Commander!” Spitfire yelled.
He shook from his train of thought. He blinked confusingly before he noticed the turquoise mare flying in front of him. Her hoof was raised in the air as if she was about to knock him from consciousness.
“Wha-“ Soarin’ squeaked.
Upon seeing this, Fleetfoot quickly retracted her hoof, taking a step back. She chuckled nervously.
“Did you guys see that?” He asked frantically, pointing towards his cousin. He swore she was just about to slap him.
“Knew it would work,” Fleetfoot brushed her hooves together as if she was brushing away at a very crummy substance sitting on her hooves. “Always works.” She shrugged.
“Wha-“ The still very confused Soarin’ answered, “What do you mean?” He looked around, the whole team stared back at him.
“The old fashioned, knock out of course.” Fleetfoot smirked. Throwing play punches. “Just gotta pull out one of these bad boys, and boom, your back.” She flung her hooves into the air expressively, she mimicked the sound of an explosion. “I don’t even have to lay a hoof on ya’.” She leaned on her older cousin, giving him a firm pat on the shoulder. She chuckled again when he gave her a look of confusion.
"Soarin’!" The captain called, "In my office, now." She didn't yell, but she didn't exactly seem that calm either.
The two walked into Spitfire's office. Spitfire took a seat in her office chair, while Soarin took a seat on one of the chairs that sat directly in front of Spitfire's desk. Fleetfoot walked in as well closing the door. She leaned against the door, crossing her forehooves. Spitfire looked at the stallion furiously.
“What exactly we’re you doing out there, Soarin’? Did you even write anything down?!” Spitfire yelled at the colt.
“Sure I did,” He slipped his clipboard onto her desk. She glared for a second but proceeded to grab it. She lifted a hoof to adjust her sunglasses, she looked over it for a few seconds, flipping the pages and then shaking her head.
She sighed. Tossing the clipboard back onto her desk, she leaned back in her chair, crossing her hooves. Her piercing stare made it even harder to lie. "Explain,"
"I guess I was just so engaged in watching the race that I just forgot the general purpose of why I was watching in the first place, and not flying with the team." He admitted sheepishly. “Sorry, Cap’.” He scratched the back of his neck. “It won’t happen again, promise.”
“Good. I can’t have you continuously getting distracted on the job.” She sighed, “But this is a warning Soarin, don’t let it happen again.” She glared one last time before turning back to her work. She spoke again, dismissing him. She pulled the pen from her clipboard and set the clipboard aside, she pulled a few sheets of paper that sat on a smooth pile of mail on the side of her desk. She spoke again, “Dismissed.”
He nodded, getting up from his seat and walking into the hallway. Fleetfoot followed him out. They walked a few inches of the hallway. He had only now noticed that they had walked in circles. He felt the tension rise when Fleetfoot didn't speak. Usually she would have teased him from the second they took their exit, but she wasn't doing that right now. Upon his unsettling concern, he turned his head to look at his cousin. He watched her facial expression, she had a mischievous smirk on her face. She stopped in her tracks and slowly turned her head to face him. When he gave her a confused expression she chuckled evilly, rubbing her hooves together.
It was a trick.
Abort mission! I repeat Abort mission.
As much as he wanted too, he just couldn't bring himself to run. It felt as if he had been left on a cliff hanger of an intensifying television scene. He felt much too engaged to turn back now. Whatever she had to say, it better be good. He wanted answers to her sudden unusual activity.
“I know that look.”
“What?” He questioned.
"I know that look." She repeated.
“What look?” He looked confused, he was beginning to grow tired of the amount of times confusion hit. And it was hitting hard.
"Don't play smart with me lover colt," She floated herself into a laying-in-the-air position. She playfully placed her hooves on her cheeks and squished them. "You're in love~" Now she was upside down, she added emphasis on the word love, her hooves still squeezing against her cheeks. Exactly what he expected. He was done with her games.
"No, I'm not." He answered convincingly. Or at least, he thought he was pretty convincing.
"Mmm." She hummed. "Yeah, cause you totally weren't just admiring your future wife." She was upside right this time, hooves crossed.
"I wasn't." Even he couldn't convince himself.
She chuckled. She read right through the lie.
"Hey, I may have been flying, like, the whole time. But I think you forgot the main thing about Pegasi, Soar."
"We're always watching, whether it be the sky, clouds, or land. Always watching, bud." She tapped the edge of her head with a hoof. She then patted his shoulder. She giggled. His mouth was agape. She flew towards the door, she pushed her hooves against it and leaned forward which threw the door open. She stood there as she yelled to her cousin who stood in the middle of the hallway. Shocked.
"Cya later, Soar!" She waved goodbye.
"I can't wait to tell Spitfire all about this!" She chirped, speeding up as she made a sharp turn.
“W-wait, no!” He yelled.
The door swung shut. He groaned in frustration. It would be absolutely pointless to try to stop her. Nothing could possibly convince her otherwise. After all, Fleetfoot was a very optimistic pony. She always knew what she wanted.
Great. Now I’m gonna have, not one, but two teammates convinced I'm in love with Rainbow Dash.
As much as it should have bothered him, it didn't. At least he knew Spitfire and Fleetfoot would keep it a secret.
They would keep it a secret. Right?
They would, wouldn’t they?
Right?
Right?
Pony feathers. Soarin’ cursed in his mind. He zoomed through the doors and desperately searched for an exhilarated Fleetfoot.
“Wait!” He burst through the doors of Spitfire’s office.
A smirking captain and a snickering Fleetfoot stared at the frantic Stallion. Fleetfoot sat on the dark blue couch on the left of the door. Spitfire sat at her desk, her hindlegs crossed and on the table, she leaned back in her seat, her forelegs behind her head.
He turned to Fleetfoot. “Fleetfoot.” He started, out of breath, “Did you already-“
“So, you really have a crush on the newbie.” Spitfire cut him off. She didn’t stop smirking, much to his displeasure. He assumed there was more.
“No- no,” He shook his hooves slowly. “No. I don't. Don't listen to Fleetfoot,”
“Lies!” Fleetfoot protested, pointing a hoof at the grown stallion. They both ignored that last part. She looked at spitfire. “He gave her the look.”
“That look?”
“That look.”
“It’s more serious then I thought.” Spitfire tilted her head, looking at Soarin'. She had caught her own teammate lying.
“Told ya’,”
“What?” He questioned the two mares who were staring directly at him. “What is it?”
“You like her, right?”
“Uh..” I do. He thought. “Yeah, but not like that. Just as a friend." He was failing to convince the two mares. Spitfire looked quite unamused. He had long ago noticed Fleetfoot give him a leer facial expression.
Fleetfoot sighed. "You can stop with the lies Soarin', you're not fooling us anytime soon."
"Mm," He hummed, pondering over an appropriable answer. There was no point in lying now, they were convinced. "Maybe..."
The two mares let out an exasperated gasp. He groaned.
"Hey, I didn't give you an exact answer! I just said, maybe!" He warned the two squealing mares.
"Which means yes," Spitfire corrected.
"It doesn't mean either. It can mean both yes or no."
"In your case, that's a yes."
You really screwed up now, Soarin'.
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"No..."
… He slipped a hoof through the crack of the door.
"...Yes."
"So that's why you were so distracted at practice today." Spitfire acknowledged.
"I was just watching them race. What's so romantic about that?"
"We already told you, you gave her the look!" A frustrated Fleetfoot yelled. Her head hung off the side of the couch in exasperation. She groaned.
"Uh huh." Spitfire agreed. "You smiled, you laughed."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Aw, c'mon Soar, don't play that game again," Fleetfoot pouted. The door cracked open a bit more.
"Whatever. Just please don't tell anypony. I really don't want the whole academy thinking up false accusations, just because you two have trouble reading the room." He cracked the door open a bit wider.
"Aha!" Fleetfoot pointed a hoof at her older cousin. "You really do like her!"
Now was his chance to escape.
"No, I don't!" He yelled from afar. He had already left the room. Long gone.
Fleetfoot scoffed.
"So close." She muttered under her breath.
"What?" Spitfire looked up from her paper work.
"Nothing, nothing." She waved it off, crossing her hooves.
The team walked into the cafeteria, drained out and desperate for food. Some took their seats, while others got up for food. Silver Wing had been first in line. He had dark gray fur, a white pushed back mane with a brighter white streak that ran through the middle, and bright indigo eyes. A light gray line ran horizontally across the tips of his wings. He was currently failing to make up his mind on a meal that would properly suite his needs. His sore wings craved Mac n cheese, while his aching noggin was practically begging for a hot bowl of soup. But, then again, his leg joints were stiff from the repetition of taking off and landing over and over again--which clearly implored on the more proper decision. A hay burger.
"I'll have that." He tapped a hoof against the glass separating the two.
The lunch lady pulled a spoon from a round cubby on the silver rolling table that held all utensils and meals of the day. The spoon hovered over the area the stallion had suggested, she was roughly interrupted.
"Wait, no!"
"I'll have that instead."
She picked up another spoon to scoop up the section the picky gray stallion had picked.
"Uh...actually no."
"I'll have that." He tapped a hoof against the glass again.
“Wait no! That! Definitely that!”
She sighed.
“Wait…”
The ponies behind him groaned. This was absolutely ridiculous.
“Just pick something and get going you bozo!” Somepony yelled in the far distance of the line. Upon hearing this he quickly chose a more preferable meal.
"I'll just have that."
The lunch lady picked up another spoon and hovered it over the mac n' cheese the stallion had pointed to. She waited for his hesitation once again. Upon seeing this Silver Wing nodded quickly. She scooped the mac n' cheese and tossed it into his tray.
"And that."
She picked up a bigger and deeper spoon to scoop up the soup the stallion had picked. She hesitated to pour the soup into the small bowl sitting on his tray. She waited for his signal. He nodded again. She poured soup into the small bowl sitting on his tray. He attempted to adjust the bowl of soup, as he touched it he realized it wasn't very hot, but it wasn't very cold either. It was more, warm.
"And...that."
He tapped a hoof against the glass. He pointed to a hay burger. She took out another utensil to pick it up, and place gently on his plate. She didn't hesitate this time though. With a quick swipe of his card this food was now his to enjoy. He happily walked away, pleased with his meal. It was a challenge not to dig in on the spot. Everything smelled so nice, especially after a long day of practice. Food would certainly lighten up his mood. He felt the whiff of mac n' cheese and chicken soup get stronger the closer he got to his table. He looked down at his tray while he walked, had to make sure nothing had been swiped. The rumbles of his stomach were drained out by the sound of cafeteria conversations.
“—-And then he burst into the kitchen to see Rapid fire eating at his pie! You should’ve seen his face. It was priceless!” Fleetfoot yelled over the noise of the cafeteria.
Everypony laughed as Fleetfoot told hilarious past stories about Soarin’ and his absured pie obsession.
“Ha. Ha. But that’s not what happened.” Soarin protested.
“It is so what happened. I know, I was right in the room when it happened.” She defended.
“Is not.”
“Is to!”
“Is no-" He stopped when he realized something. "Wait, you were in the room when it happened?!"
She giggled. "Yeah. Did you not see me?"
"So, what exactly did happen in there?" Somepony at the table asked.
She laughed. “Oh yeah, and then he-“ She stopped mid sentence when she felt herself bump into something. Her wings felt a slight force push them against her back, causing her to loose balance.
Silver wing looked up from his tray to see a turquoise mare flying backwards, she was coming straight in his direction. He attempted to move away but quickly found himself barricaded between lunch tables. She bumped into him causing both of them to loose balance and fall to the floor. The tray he had been holding flung towards the ground. The soup, and mac n' cheese mixing terribly. He looked up at the disturbance. He quickly recognized her as Fleetfoot. He remembered her as his wing pony back when they were recruits. He stared up at her shimmering violet orbs for a second, he then looked down at the mess beneath him.
His precious mac n' cheese.
His joyous hay burger.
And more importantly,
The soup!
Not the soup, anything but the soup.
He felt the need to sobb over this great loss, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. This meal. This magical meal, had perished but in return brought something better than any meal. This magical meal, had brought him a true beauty.
"Sorry about that," He apologized to the turquoise mare.
Fleetfoot rubbed her noggin. She looked up to face the stallion she had bumped into. She stared at him for a second. He could've swore he saw a faint blush spread across her cheeks, but he assumed it was just from embarrassment.
"No, It- It was my fault." She apologized. She got up from the now contaminated floor.
“Are you alright?” He asked.
“Yeah.” She shrugged it off. He bent down to gather his fallen tray, and dispose of the food.
"Let me help with that." She traveled off to the side, gathering a random table spoon, she scooped up the now unsanitary meal right back into his tray.
"Oh." He hadn't expected that. This mare was really full of surprises. "Thanks, I guess."
She handed him an extra spoon she had grabbed. Together, they scooped up the mess of wet mac n’ cheese and a hay burger. He couldn't help but find himself distracted from such a simple task. He had the unfortunate urge to catch another glimpse of her face. Even if it only lasted a second. He had always admired Fleetfoot, just not in that way.
He looked up to get a better look at her features. Although they had been wing ponies in the past, he had never payed much attention to her features, much like her face. Especially since most of her body had been completely covered up with her flight suit. She looked up to find the gray stallion staring at her. She stared back. He quickly noticed her beautiful violet eyes. She smiled softly. Both of them looked down at the mess on the floor and continued to scoop.
“Sorry about that by the way. I’ll get you a new one.” Fleetfoot offered.
“No, it’s fine, really.” He shook his head.
“Dude, you just lost your lunch. The least I can do is offer you a new one.”
“Oh. No, really it’s fin-“ He felt her hoof latch onto his arm, and pull him. She was surprisingly strong for how much shorter she was compared to him. She wasn’t that short, but she wasn’t exactly tall either. He on the other hoof, was pretty tall and towered over the mare by a bit more than half a foot. What he noticed most of all was how incredibly soft her fur was.
In the blink of an eye they were back at the food table on the right side of the cafeteria. She had pulled them both up to the front of the line. Ponies in the line groaned at the sight of him. She took the old tray from his hooves and threw out the food, she placed the dirty metallic tray on the dish rack. She grabbed a new tray and held onto it for him.
“So, what would you like? Pick anything. My treat.”
“Hm. How about-“
A plastic spoon had been thrown at him. He felt it in his mane. He rubbed his noggin, chuckling nervously, attempting to shake the spoon from his mane. He prayed that she hadn't seen that.
"Are you sure it's the best idea to skip the line?" He asked, looking at the enraged crowd.
"Yeah, I do it all the time." She shrugged. "Plus this is urgent. Now, pick something."
Mm. Pushy much?
“Not you again!” Another mysterious pony yelled from the line.
“What do they mean by th-“
“I’ll have the chicken soup and mac n’ cheese.” He interrupted her, ignoring her question. He pointed towards the two options with a hoof. He really didn’t feel like having a hay burger anymore.
“Chicken soup, and mac n’ cheese please.” Fleetfoot leaned forward, tapping her hoof against the glass that showcased multiple different food options. The lunch lady nodded, scooping the two meals into the clean tray Fleetfoot held out. After a moment Fleetfoot held out a tray of his food.
“Is that it?” She asked. She held the tray out in front of him.
“Yeah, that’s all. Thank you M’lady.”
“No problem.” She smiled.
Wait…
What did he just call me? She asked herself as she swiped her card. She shrugged it off, handing him his tray. She was about to walk away when she felt like she was forgetting something. He turned to walk back to his table.
“Hey.” She started. Catching his attention again, “What was your name? I don’t think I ever got it.”
He was shocked. Had she not remembered him? They were wing ponies in the past. How could she have forgotten her own wing pony? Maybe it was because of the 80% of their body that was fully covered by their flight suit.
“Really? You don’t remember me?” He asked quizzically. She raised an eyebrow.
He sighed. “Wing ponies,”
She rubbed her chin attempting to remember.
“Back when we were recruits.”
“Ouhhh.” It finally came to her mind. She pointed a hoof at him. There was hope. She had finally remembered. “You’re…” She tried to recall his name. She stopped,
“Nope. Don’t remember you.”
He blinked and sighed. “Silver wing.”
“Right.” She nodded. “Fleetfoot.”
“I know.”
“Right..” The silence between the two only made the situation more awkward. The noise of the cafeteria managed to make the situation a bit less awkward. But not by much. "Are you new or something?" She asked, trying to smoothen out the unwanted tension.
"Yeah," He nodded slightly, "Something like that."
“So, are we good?” Fleetfoot asked.
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Yeah we’re good.” He smiled.
“Great. So, let’s put all of this behind us.” Fleetfoot said. He’d better agree.
“As, you wish.” He answered.
“Well, I uh, I’ll see you some other time then.” He looked deliciously at his tray. “Have a great day." He smirked, but continued. "After all, I'm already having an amazing day. Thanks to you.” He flashed her a pretty smile, bowing playfully.
What?...
That was weird.
She shrugged it off.
She stared at the stallion shockingly. He gave her a wink as he walked away.