Soarin’ couldn’t help feeling at least a little pathetic as he sat beside the door to Spitfire’s empty hotel suite. The occasional ponies that passed him in the hall all took the time to shoot him a variety of interesting looks. Soarin’s personal favorite was either the look of ‘you just got into a hay of a fight with your marefriend’ or the look of ‘you’re clearly too proud to admit to the hotel staff that you locked yourself out’. As was often the case in life, the truth was far more pedestrian in nature—though no less pathetic.
After his conversation earlier in the day with Arcus, Soarin’ was feeling on edge. He didn’t like to lie to anypony, least of all the pony that quite literally signed his paycheck. At the same time, he didn’t want to betray Spitfire’s trust in him. He would always be her El-Tee. She trusted him, and he trusted her in kind. He owed her too much to not put his own neck on the line.
Soarin’ sighed as he ran his hoof through his mane. He much preferred being the lieutenant. Being the second in command meant that, while he had the authority to do almost anything, he still had Spitfire to keep him in check. Furthermore, he could always pass problems up to her when he didn’t want to deal with them.
His role as captain was the other reason he had parked himself outside of Spitfire’s suite. He wanted Spitfire’s advice about Fleetfoot. Rapidfire had suggested he speak with Fleetfoot directly before they left. Soarin’ had opted to get some professional advice, first. And who better than Spitfire to advise an interim captain like him.
There were only two problems with Soarin’s plan. First, he had no clue when Spitfire planned to return from her day out with Rainbow Dash. That lack of knowledge is why he had spent the better part of two hours sitting beside the door. Second, and perhaps more pressing of a concern, he was bored out of his mind.
In the time since he had sat down to wait, Soarin’ had preened his wings—twice. He had then counted all the plucked feathers, counted all his primary feathers, calculated the flight time from the hotel to his favorite pie shop, and recounted in detail every cocktail recipe he knew. Soarin regretted not bringing something to read. A book, a magazine—hay, even one of those trashy tabloids would be a welcome relief from the boredom. He wondered, briefly, if that was half the reason tabloids even existed.
Leaning his head back until it lightly bumped against the wall, he blew a raspberry and kicked at the floor with a hoof.
“Bored,” he mumbled, thumping his head against the wall several times, “bored, bored, bored, bored, boooooooooooored.”
Soarin’ groaned and allowed himself to slide down the wall until he was flat on his back with his legs in the air. “How do the Palace guards do this sort of stuff all day? Why couldn’t they teach us that stupid trick in basic?”
After a few moments of laying on the floor like a whining foal, Soarin’ hefted himself back to his original sitting position. He tapped his hoof against the floor as if it would somehow make the time pass quicker. After about thirty seconds when he got bored of that, he closed his eyes and hummed softly. Soon, an old melody crept to the forefront of his mind. It was a song his mother used to sing around the house when he was little. Soarin’s head began to slowly nod in time with the melody.
“Hejo, spann den Wagen an,” he sang, mindful to keep his voice down. “Denn der Wind treibt Regen übers Land, Hol die goldnen Garben, Hol die goldnen Garben. Hejo, spann den Wagen an, Denn der Wind treibt—”
“Mallow, what are you doing?” Rapidfire asked.
“Gah!” Soarin’ yelped, his wings flaring out as his eyes snapped open.
Rapidfire covered his mouth with a hoof to stifle his laughter.
“H-how long have you been there?” Soarin’ demanded.
“Long enough to hear your little, uh… concert, Mallow,” Rapid answered.
Soarin’ groaned and pressed a hoof to his forehead, "Celestia erschlage mich"
Rapid rolled his eyes before giving Soarin’s shoulder a light smack. “In Equish please.”
“Do you need something, Rapid?” Soarin’ asked.
“Not from you, no,” Rapid said as he sat next to Soarin’.
A smirk spread over Soarin’s face. “Tell me again why you had Spitfire’s uniform this morning?”
An intense blush spread over Rapidfire’s cheeks for a moment before a smirk of his own crossed his lips. He casually wrapped his foreleg around Soarin’s shoulders and leaned a bit too close for Soarin’s comfort.
“Cause you’d fill it out in all the right places, babe,” Rapid purred.
Soarin’ narrowed his eyes. If Rapidfire wanted a war, Soarin’ would give him a war. He lifted his left hoof and used it to caress Rapid’s cheek. The gesture took Rapidfire by complete surprise, nearly sending him toppling backward.
“Oh honey,” Soarin’ cooed, “but you’d look so much better in her uniform.”
Before Rapidfire could formulate a response, or an escape plan, their ears perked to the familiar sound of approaching hoofsteps. Quickly disentangling from each other, Soarin’ and Rapid did their best to look natural, which wasn’t the easiest of feats when both their faces were burning red. To their mutual horror, the pony trotting towards them was Spitfire. The former captain had a smile on her lips and a spring in her step as she trotted towards them.
“Hey guys, what’s—” She came to a stop in front of them, her left eyebrow arching upward. “Uh, you two alright?”
“Yup!” Soarin’ and Rapid answered simultaneously.
Spitfire blinked and watched them for a moment. “You sure?”
“Yup!” they answered again.
“Oookay,” Spitfire said as she stepped past them to unlock the door to her room. “Well, it’s actually kinda convenient that the both of you are here.”
Soarin’ and Rapidfire exchanged a worried glance.
“The Bad Seeds are playing tomorrow night at the Stonewall Bar and Grille,” Spitfire said as she pushed the door open and motioned them to follow her. “Rainbow asked if you two wanted to join us as well.”
“Why would she invite us?” Soarin’ asked, his face scrunching in mild confusion.
“Cause she had a lot of fun hanging out with the three of us Friday night and thought it’d be nice to do it again,” Spitfire answered as she trotted into her room and set her saddlebags on the floor. After taking a moment to stretch out her back she turned to face the two stallions. “So, you two interested?”
“Uh, sure,” Rapid answered.
“When does it start, where would we meet you, and when does it end?” Soarin’ asked.
The faintest hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of Spitfire’s lips. “The show starts at eight, Rainbow and I would meet you there at seven, and it ends whenever the music stops.”
Soarin’ rubbed his chin as he thought over the information. “I guess as long as Rapid and I leave no later than ten, it should be fine.”
“What, why?” Rapid balked.
“Tomorrow is Sunday, Rapidfire,” Soarin’ said.
“Yeah, so?”
“So, you and I have to work on Monday.”
“Bah,” Rapidfire gave Soarin’ a flippant wave of his hoof. “We’ll just call in dead.”
“I don’t think Arcus would appreciate that,” Soarin’ replied with an amused snort.
“That would depend on the day,” Spitfire interjected.
“What makes you say that?” Rapid asked.
“Well, remember when you greased the toilet seats?” Spitfire asked.
Rapid snickered and Soarin’ shot a death glare to the smaller stallion.
“That was you?!” he growled.
“Hey, she made me do it!” Rapid laughed, pointing a hoof at his sister.
Soarin’s glare shifted to Spitfire, who immediately held her hooves up in surrender.
“What in the world possessed you to do that?” Soarin’ demanded.
“In fairness, it seemed like a great idea at the time,” Spitfire answered.
“W-what about in HINDsight?” Rapid asked as he burst into gales of laughter.
Soarin’s eye twitched as his rational mind ground to a momentary halt. He noticed Spitfire biting her foreleg in an attempt to quell her own laughter. Soarin’ came to a realization; he was surrounded by crazy ponies. He forced himself to take a deep breath, which he held for a few seconds before he exhaled slowly.
“You’re both insane,” Soarin’ noted.
“Sanity is overrated,” Spitfire replied with a manic grin.
“And totally boring!” Rapid added from his position on the floor.
“Anyway,” Spitfire began after she regained some semblance of control, “what brings you two here?”
“I’m just here to pester you,” Rapid answered.
“Well, at least you’re honest about it,” Spitfire mused.
“I try.” Rapid happily chirped.
“What about you, Soarin’?” Spitfire asked her friend.
“Wonderbolt stuff,” he answered.
Spitfire nodded, “Well, why don’t you two come inside and grab something from the minibar.”
“My liver still needs to recover from last night,” Rapid groaned.
Spitfire snickered, “well, that’ll learn you a thing or three.”
Spitfire trotted into her room, Soarin’ and Rapidfire following close behind her. Rapidfire closed the door with a light kick. Spitfire made her way over to the minibar and fished through it momentarily for a few drinks. She retrieved three bottles of water and hoofed one to both Rapid and Soarin’ before she sat down.
“So,” She began, her attention focused on Soarin’, “what’s on your mind?”
“A couple things,” Soarin’ mumbled as he played with the small bottle of water. “Fleetfoot’s been convincing most of the team we should look for Rainbow and ask her to teach us the Rainboom.”
“I thought Celestia said ‘no’ to that whole idea,” Rapidfire said before taking a sip of his drink.
“Celestia said she wouldn’t give Rainbow Dash an assignment to train us,” Spitfire corrected her brother, “she never said we couldn’t approach Rainbow on our own. Granted, she implied that we shouldn’t do that either.”
“I had to tell Arcus that you had run into Rainbow,” Soarin’ said.
“You what?!” Spitfire blurted.
Soarin’ held up his hooves in a placating manner. “Whoa there, I didn’t tell him you started dating her. I just told him that you ran into her on the town and were talking to her.”
“Does he suspect anything?” Spitfire asked. Almost immediately she smacked herself in the forehead. “Oh, what am I saying? It’s Arcus; he always suspects.”
Soarin’ nodded. “He wants you to come by the stadium on Monday morning. Triage is gonna take a look at your wing.”
Spitfire nodded, her hoof rubbing her chin as she considered her situation. Triage was the team’s physician, and probably the only pony Arcus actually trusted. If he wanted Spitfire to specifically go to the stadium to see Triage then it probably meant Arcus planned to confront her directly. If he did that, Spitfire would need a plan of action to defend her budding relationship with Rainbow.
She sighed, her hoof running through her mane. Perhaps tomorrow she would talk to Rainbow about it first. Spitfire still wasn’t sure how Rainbow might react to that sort of attention. Come to think of it, she wasn’t sure if Rainbow was even willing to teach anypony the rainboom.
If it came down to that, would Fleetfoot or Blaze press the issue? Spitfire had already decided to side with Rainbow Dash if it came to that. Soarin’, Rapidfire, Misty, and Surprise would, in all likelihood, stand with her on that decision. But Spitfire didn’t know what long-term effects that sort of schism could have on her team.
Stunt flying required a lot of things, athleticism, a sharp mind, and good instincts. But it also heavily required the complete and unflinching trust between wingponies. Spitfire trusted Soarin’ to catch her if she fell, a trust that had been well and truly earned after years of flying together. Well, except for that last time, but that had been entirely her fault.
Either way, any sense of bitterness between teammates was nothing less than dangerous. She knew none of her Wonderbolt’s would do anything to intentionally sabotage one another; they were better than that. Still, that fundamental distrust of one’s wingpony could lead to oversights. There was no room for oversights in stunt flying. Not if you wanted to land safe and sound on all four hooves, at least.
Spitfire pursed her lips as her eyebrows knitted together. Folding her forelegs across her chest, she hummed to herself. She made a mental note to get Rainbow’s opinion on the matter. Perhaps the weather manager’s different perspective would yield some answers. And she owed it to Rainbow to be honest with her about what was going on.
“So,” Rapid spoke up, interrupting Spitfire’s thoughts, “what are you gonna do?”
“Well,” Spitfire began slowly, “I think I’ll enjoy the rest of my weekend and deal with Arcus when the time comes.”
“What about Fleetfoot?” Soarin’ asked, “any advice for me?”
Spitfire considered the question for a long moment before she answered. “Let’s see, this week is when most of the team goes on vacation, right?”
“Yeah, Arcus, Rapid, and I have a few meetings, but other then that everypony has the next couple weeks off.” Soarin’ answered.
“Okay, here’s what you do,” Spitfire began as she sat up straight, “tell Fleetfoot that you will think it over during the break and you will have a decision when the team reassembles in two weeks for the preseason planning. Throw her a bone and tell her to prepare some plans on how we might approach Rainbow, and what sort of arrangement we could offer her as compensation. Also make it clear that if Rainbow at any point says ‘no’ to the deal, then she is to drop it immediately.”
“Makes sense,” Rapid said with a nod. “It gives her something to do and stops the politicking for a while at least.”
“Yeah,” Soarin’ agreed, “but I’m concerned about what happens if Rainbow doesn’t want to train us or she finds out we’re the ones running interference for her.”
“If it comes to that, I’ll deal with Fleetfoot personally,” Spitfire said.