//------------------------------// // An Uninhibited Exchange // Story: Moments of Calm // by The Iguana Man //------------------------------// “I'm sorry, Angel,” Fluttershy said as she swooped clumsily down the stairs, heedless of the irritated face and tapping foot of the rabbit at the top of them, “but it sounds like someone could really be hurt!” She skidded to a halt on the ground floor, taking a moment to wipe her eyes and try to get her bearings after having been so suddenly woken by the knocking on her door. After a moment, though, the knocking sounded again, it's staggered, chaotic rhythm making clear that whoever was on the other side of the door, they were not in a coherent state of mind. Straightening herself up and putting herself in as professional a mindset as she could, Fluttershy opened the door. “Hello, what do we need to do, there's no time to... Spitfire?!” “Courshe not!” Spitfire replied, swaying heavily. “Never any time to Spitfire!” She let out a slow, dopey laugh and the smell of alcohol rammed into Fluttershy's face. To most, this would no doubt dismiss their concerns of danger. For Fluttershy, however, it merely changed them. “Oh my goodness, come inside, you must be freezing.” “Nah!” Spitfire waved a hoof, almost hitting the door frame. “Not freez'n'. 'mpegasus! 'n'whiskey feelsh waaarm.” Fluttershy's eyes widened. “That means the alcohol's reversing your body's survival mechanisms and taking the heat away from your core and to the surface so it gets cooled off come inside now, now, now!” she blurted out as she forcefully bundled Spitfire inside. As soon as she was safe and the door was shut, she looked at the drunken mare. “What are you doing here anyway?” Spitfire whirled around, staggering for a moment to keep herself upright before looking at Fluttershy, almost focusing her eyes enough to glare. “'m'ere causa you!” She jabbed a hoof roughly in Fluttershy's direction. Fluttershy jerked back, mortified at the accusation. “Me? What did I do?” “You...” Spitfire trailed off, thinking hard for a moment before she answered, oddly quiet. “Y'made me happy.” Fluttershy instinctively started to squeeze her eyes shut tightly before what was said registered. “I'm... sorry?” she said, a befuddled frown on her face. “No!” Spitfire snapped. “Y'not sorry, I'm sorry! Can't 'member last time bein' happy. How'dja do that?” Fluttershy's mouth hung open for a moment, baffled at what she was hearing. “I... I didn't do anything. I just talked to you, that's all. And I listened, but... I guess not hard enough to know you were so miserable.” Her eyes fell in sadness at what she missed. Spitfire was having none of it, though. “Not m'szhble! Love bein' a wond'rboll. 'Shbesht jobbina world. Love thrills, love tricks, love pract'ce 'n'pformnce 'n' shout'n' 'nallat! 'Sgreat, but 'snot... 'snot just happy. Some'in'... some'in' missin' n' dunno what!” “Oh, um, okay,” Fluttershy said, still somewhat at a loss for what was going on. Still, she carefully guided the staggering mare to the couch. “Well, um, come and sit down and maybe we can talk abou- your wing!” “Huh? Whya wanna talk 'bout m'wing?” Spitfire asked, shakily following Fluttershy's gaze to her left wing. After a moment, she registered the disrupted feathers and the leaves and twigs sticking out of them. “Oh yeah,” she let out a small giggle, as if she's just noticed a slightly amusing shape in the clouds, “wing metta bush. Bush met m'wing! They b'came friends!” After a moment, she blinked heavily, a vaguely coherent thought seeming to swim to the top of her mind. “B'tt'r fix't, though.” Fluttershy almost began to breathe a sigh of relief at Spitfire apparently regaining a few of her faculties. However, any such consolation was quickly smashed when Spitfire rammed her face into her wing and began clumsily twisting the feathers around. “What are you doing?!” Spitfire glanced up at her. “'m preening. Gotta preen y'self if y'wanna keep flyin'” she said, as if it was the most obvious course of action imaginable. Fluttershy dashed forward before gently pulling Spitfire's head away and taking her wing in a hoof. “Let me take a look at it first.” She felt around the muscles and joints for a few seconds. “Okay, nothing bruised or damaged, it looks like.” Spitfire nodded and moved her head back towards her wing before Fluttershy stopped her. “Um, maybe...” she paused, seeing the obvious solution but very hesitant to suggest it. After a moment, though, she shook her head - it was the only thing she could think of that would stop Spitfire making things worse. “Let me do it.” After a brief pause, Spitfire nodded, prompting Fluttershy to put her face to Spitfire's wing, moving quickly enough that she almost outraced the blush forming on her cheeks. Admittedly, while preening another pegasus was a somewhat intimate gesture, it wasn't nearly as much of one as most other tribes assumed. It was less a specifically romantic or familial thing to do, more just a way to take care of another. If a pegasus was caring for a sick friend, for example, they might preen them, provided the sickness wasn't contagious. And Fluttershy did have more experience with doing so than most, having had to when some of her bird friends were unable to preen themselves. So, while it did feel a little uncomfortable, it wasn't too bad if she thought about it in those terms. However, after about a minute, she heard Spitfire let out a delighted hum. “'Sgood. Y're good at this. Feels goooood.” Fluttershy let out a small sigh. “I'm glad.” She was about to continue when Spitfire stiffened suddenly. “Do that again!” After a moment's confused silence, she clarified, “That breathin' thing!” Blinking in confusion, Fluttershy let out a slow, soft breath over Spitfire's wing. “Yeeeeah,” Spitfire said, seeming to melt into the couch. “I like that.” Despite the awkwardness and bizarreness of the moment, Fluttershy couldn't help but smile. After a moment, a thought occurred to her. “Does it make you... happy?” She asked, hoping she didn't sound too stupid. There was a long pause before Spitfire nodded. “Yeah... yeah, 'slike... 'slike I'm flying” Her eyes widened slightly. “'sbeen a long time s'nce I've b'n flying.” Fluttershy tilted her head slightly. “Um, you're a Wonderbolt. You fly a lot, don't you?” Spitfire shook her head, though her lowered brow made clear she herself wasn't sure what she was saying. “Nah, tha... 'sflyin', but it's not... flying. Like, up there, 'mzippin' an' t'rnin' an' weavin', but I'm not... just flying. 'N'I wanna fly. No plan, noth'n' caref'l, no one judgin', just... fly!” A smile blossomed onto Fluttershy's face as she returned to preening, finally understanding the problems Spitfire was having enough that she felt comfortable helping her out and thinking about solutions.