With My Wonderbolt

by ScatMan2001


Chapter 3: It's Party Time

        Today’s workday was not like any other workday you’ve ever experienced. Normally, when you work, you are focused on one thing, and one thing only.

        Working.

        You’re paid to be diligent 100% of the time. You’re paid to manage your subordinates. You’re paid to be prepared to fight at a moments notice, and to follow the orders of the Royal Princesses of Equestria immediately and without question.

        But today you could only think of Soarin.

        That blue pegasus has occupied your mind like nothing else has done before in your lifetime.

        In school, when you were in school, you’re mind typically had better things to do than pay attention to your teachers. You never paid attention in geometry or physics, because who cares?

        But your mind, even back then, was always focused on becoming a Royal Guard. For your entire life, that’s all you’ve ever dedicated more than 2% of your brain to. You could care less about school and homework and grades and parties.

        You just wanted to be a guard.

        And now that you are, you have been thinking about it even more often than you used to, somehow. Your entire life revolves around this job in this castle.

        But today you thought of something else. Actually, not even something else, it was someone else!

        You only give ponies your attention if you absolutely have to. You pay attention and care about the Princesses of Equestria, your parents, your little sisters, Vinyl’s marefriend, the cashier at Windy’s whose name is Donald, and that’s about the end of the list.

        You’re mind has just been working a lot today, and it’s not like anything you’ve done before.

        The Princess was inquiring about your night last night, as she said she would, and you gave appropriate responses. However, you did not give up too much information as you don’t want her asking too many questions until you get your mind sorted.

        Princess Celestia can be a bit of a gossiper herself, but whatever gossip she does know is only ever told to her sister, her pet, and you.

        Luckily she did not ask very many questions as she was rather busy today, and the two of you were not alone for the majority of the day.

        But that’s perfectly fine. No one tried to kill her today.

        And if anypony did, then they were thwarted at some point, meaning you did your job successfully today. Every day the Princesses don’t die is a great day for you.

        And they are alive. Good for you.

        You took off work slightly early than usual. Soarin said to come over at 8, so you’re trying to get there at 7:55, emphasis on ‘trying.’. You have a wonderful habit of getting to everything early.

        No one ever gets mad if you show up a little early. But you’ve seen ponies get in trouble for showing up late to various things, so you try not to be like them.

        Anyway, after taking off a little earlier than usual, Princess Celestia looked a little surprised. Normally you work for a couple more hours, about until the Princess retires for the night, but today is different.

        You can’t remember the last time you left work this early. Have you ever done so?

        Probably not.

        You expected the Day Princess to inquire as to why you are leaving early or what you’re plans are, but she didn’t ask.

        She just smiled at you, real bright, and wished you a wonderful evening.

        Which is especially odd, because she seldom smiles when the sun goes down. She’s almost never happy at night.

        But whatever.

        You have to take the relatively short walk back to your apartment to take off your armor before heading back out again. You assume that you will go to this party, mingle (hopefully as successfully as yesterday), and leave again.

        The workday begins pretty early in the morning, so you shouldn’t stay for very long, but it’s important not to leave early as to appear rude.

        Are you overthinking this?

        Maybe. But when was the last time you got invited to a party? Or anything?

        Never. Or years, at least.

        Should you wear something? Soarin said it’d be just a casual thing, but does that mean casual as in maybe wear a nice shirt or bowtie? Or wear nothing?

        The word ‘casual’ is baffling. You don’t really have any nice shirts or ties or anything anyway, so you’ll have to wear nothing.

        You have your dress uniform, but that’s a little too fancy.

        And if you really do need anything, you can always run back and get something. But you should be good.

        You’re nervous now.

        Just like yesterday, you don’t know anyone at this party. Aside from Soarin and Fleetfoot, assuming Fleetfoot will be there. And she ought to be.

        But you don’t care about her so much. She didn’t invite you to the party. Soarin did. You’re going because he asked you to.

        He said he wants to hang out with you some more, so hopefully you’ll be able to do that.

        You’re worried that, because it is a party, and Soarin is a celebrity, he’ll be busy with too many other ponies to be around you. But you’re prepared for that. As a Royal Guard, you must be prepared for everything.

        Regardless, it’s time to go. It’s already a little after 8, making you automatically tardy. But you have already made a seemingly good first impression with Soarin, so this hopefully won’t be too big a deal.


==========


        Well, here it is. Soarin’s party. The Wonderbolt party.

        This house is only a few blocks from the Castle, but you never knew it was exactly here. On occasion, you have walked by, but never knew who or what was inside. You never knew Wonderbolts lived so close to where you work. It’s only a 5 minute walk, if that, from the Castle.

        But the location of the house hardly matters. You’re here now. You’re 15 minutes late, so you really ought to get in there.

        Even from down the road you can hear the music and see the lights coming from the Wonderbolt house. There aren’t any ponies on the street aside from you.

        Quickly walking down this street, getting that much closer to the party, you gaze at all the large houses around you. This is one of the nicer areas of Canterlot, and is where the richest nobleponies live.

        And athletes, apparently.

        Your apartment is absolutely nothing in comparison to these mansions, but you don’t care. You never understood why, if somepony had so much money, they would buy a bigger house.

        What are you doing in there where you need so much space?

        But then again, you don’t have any money, so you don’t know what ponies with a lot of money like to do in the privacy of their own homes.

        And it’s none of your business anyway.

        Anyway, the Wonderbolt house is the only house on the street that has every single light on and has noise coming from it. It’s not an incredible amount of noise, but it can be noticed from like 100 feet away.

        The Wonderbolt house itself is three stories, assuming there is a basement, making it one of the largest houses in Canterlot automatically. Your apartment building is five stories, but those are for apartments. This is just one house.

        There’s probably a lot of ponies at this party.

        You’ve never been to a real party before. Not as an adult, you mean.

        As a colt, you went to friend’s birthday parties from school, but you never went to a party or anything in high school.

        Mainly because you didn’t really go to high school.

        But quite a few ponies don’t. And rarely do ponies go to college. Once somepony finds what they’re going to do in life, they get to it.

        Unless that calling is to be a doctor or lawyer, then they need to keep going to school.

        But you’re not a doctor or a lawyer or anything that needs an incredible amount of expensive education. You don’t think you’d be smart enough to get through medical or law school anyway.

        You get off topic really easily.

        The important thing is that you have arrived. It’s a very nice house for being towards the center of a city. You should walk through this area of town more often. It looks a lot nicer than any other part of Canterlot.

        And it’s probably a lot safer.

        You step up onto the large porch, which has many deck chairs in case anypony wants to hang out outside, but there isn’t anypony out here.

        The sound from inside can easily be heard outside, but it’s not alarmingly loud. Nothing that the Guard would be called for.

        Are you just supposed to go in?

        That’s a great question. Do you walk in? Or knock? Or what?

        You don’t know.

        Well, there is no way you can go wrong with knocking, so you do that. Raising your hoof, you bang on the door a few times.

        And then wait…

        And nothing...

        Maybe it’s louder inside than you think. Nopony must’ve heard you.

        You knock again, louder this time.

        And wait.

        You are pretty late now. They’re probably not expecting anypony to be at the door now.

        The door finally opens, allowing you to fully hear the music being played inside. It’s one of those new songs that your sister gets paid to play. Dubstep, right? You don’t care for it, but it has slowly grown on you because Vinyl plays it for a living.

        The door fully opens to reveal Soarin standing before you.

        Once his green eyes connect with yours, his face lights up and his smile grows.

        “Great!” he exclaims, ushering you inside. “You made it! Come in! Come in!”

        You nervously step inside the large building and quickly look around, seeing that there are a decent number of ponies here. A little more than you expected, but it’s not overcrowded.

        The ponies that are here are listening to the music, dancing, drinking, and just hanging out wherever they find room. At least, that’s what you can see from the front door.

        “I’m really glad you made it,” Soarin says. “I was beginning to think you had to work late or something.”

        “No, no, I took off early tonight. Sorry I’m late.”

        “No, don’t worry about it, you’re good. 8:30 is taking off early?”

        “For me, I guess it is.”

        “That’s crazy. Come on in! You didn’t have to knock, by the way.” Soarin begins to drag you down a hallway and into a large living room area where everypony seems to be hanging out. “I want you to meet the guys.”

        “O-Okay,” you stutter, feeling a little nervous being around so many ponies, half of them being celebrities. You’ve been around celebrities before, but you were never the one who had to talk to them.

        “Whenever we have these parties here,” Soarin continues, leading you through his home, “all the Wonderbolts have to come. Part of our contract is that we have to do these little public events, but I live here, so I’m always here anyway.”

        “You said every Wonderbolt is here?” you ask.

        “Yep! All 12 of us.”

        “Who else is here? Aside from the Wonderbolts.”

        “Well, everypony on the team, and a bunch of other ponies. I think the owner gets to decide who gets to come to these things. It’s just a casual thing. Honestly, though, after seeing these guys all day at work and most nights at these events we go to, you get pretty tired of seeing them. We’re together all the time.”

        “I feel it.”

        “I like ‘em and all, but they’re just my friends, y’know?” He chuckles. “It’s not like we’re all dating or something. It’s good to have my space from these guys. And if you were around them everyday, you’d agree.”

        Having fully entered the living room area, which is rather large, you take a moment to just observe what is around you.

        To your left is a collection of sofas and chairs, all facing a massive television which hangs above a fireplace. There’s only a few ponies sitting in there watching some basketball game.

        To your right is a small opening where ponies can gather to dance. There are drinks and snacks also stacked up on a large counter where the kitchen is. It’s a beautiful kitchen, and you wonder if Soarin ever actually uses it.

        Stereotypical party kind of stuff. What else would you expect?

        You, also while observing, have noticed that you are the only Earth pony here. Just like at work. You should have expect that, as pegasi and Earth ponies have never historically been likely friends.

        Not because they don’t like each other, but because they live in such different places and do different things.

        “Why do you live here and not in Cloudsdale?” you ask Soarin. “If that isn’t too forward to ask.”

        “No, not at all! The owner of the Wonderbolts wants more non-pegasi to get into competitive flying and all that stuff, and they never will if we only ever do stuff in Cloudsdale. Most ponies can’t get up there. So me and Spitfire live here, but we still practice in Cloudsdale.”

        “You fly to Cloudsdale everyday?”

        “Uh-huh. Basically everyday. It’s not bad. I guess if all you do is fly for a living you should be expected to do things like that. And, I guess, the equivalent of my flying to Cloudsdale everyday to work isn’t really any different than you walking to work everyday.”

        “I wouldn’t know.” And you don’t. You don’t have wings. How much effort it takes to power one’s wings is something you will just never know.

        “Oh, there some of them are,” Soarin announces, leading you over to a group of pegasi standing next to the table with all the drinks and food on it. “Let me introduce you to everypony!”

        There is a group of about 3 or 4 pegasi just standing around by the drinks table, not doing much of anything when you and Soarin walk up.

        Before Soarin can make any introductions whatsoever, a weight is suddenly pressed down upon your back. It’s not enough weight to force you down, but it surprises you considerably.

        “I didn’t know you were gonna be here!” a familiar voice shouts in happiness right into your ear.

        Without turning or giving any real thought, you know it’s your old pal Fleetfoot who is on you. Who else could it be?

        “Actually, I should’ve invited you,” she continues from your back. “I can’t believe I didn’t, now that I think about it.”

        “Get off him, private!” Soarin says, pushing Fleetfoot off your back, causing her to land with a thud on the floor. “And I invited him. He’s a guest, so don’t be jumping all over him.”

        “You got it!” Fleetfoot announces, still lying on the ground.

        Soarin quickly introduces you to the Wonderbolts who are present. He gives them your name, and they introduce themselves to you. Unfortunately, you forget all of their names immediately.

        You’re not trying to forget, and it’s not that you don’t care, but remembering things hasn’t ever been your strong suit.

        And you can always avoid by calling everypony “sir” or “ma’am” if they talk to you. That always works.

        “Well, that’s everypony!” Soarin announces, pushing you away from the group and to the other side of the room, not really giving you a chance to talk to anypony else. But you don’t mind, you’re just along for the ride. “Nothing else to talk about there.”

        “O-Okay. They seem nice.”

        “Yeah, I’m sure they seem that way.”

        As you wade through the small crowd, whatever ponies happen to be around greet Soarin with “what up?”s and just saying his name and patting him on the back.

        And he’s loving it. You assume he would, as he’s always in the public eye, and has probably gotten very used to it.

        Which makes you think, why, of all the ponies he could be hanging out with, he’s hanging out with you.

        Ever since you got here he hasn’t left you once, and still hasn’t. He could talk to anypony he wants, and it seems he wants to talk to you.

        Your pessimistic side can’t help but wonder why, though you shouldn’t be asking questions and just simply enjoy it.

        You almost want to ask why it was that he invited you here, but that’d probably be rude. You thought that maybe some other Royal Guards were invited for some reason, but you’re the only one here.

        Whatever. You got to stop thinking. You’re brain has worked more in the past 24 hours than it has in your entire life.

        Soarin leads you to the now empty part of the living room with the television and chairs. Whoever was in here earlier seems to have gone somewhere else.

        “Please sit,” Soarin says, sitting on the couch. You take the open seat right next to him. “They’re really good at flying, but not much for socializing. That’s why most of ‘em don’t go to Princess Celestia’s parties and so on.”

        “Huh,” you say. “That’s pretty interesting. But you and Spitfire always go to Princess Celestia’s parties.”

        “Oh, yeah, of course. It’s a captain’s responsibility, but we actually enjoy those things. I don’t talk really well, though, so it’s a good thing we got Spitfire around. I don’t know what the Wonderbolts would be without her. But don’t tell her I said that.”

        You chuckle. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

        “You want a drink?” he asks, getting up a grabbing a few bottles of beer without you even responding.

        In just a second he’s back again, placing some of the bottles on the table and hoofing one over to you.

        When was the last time you had a drink? It’s been quite a while, but you don’t see why you can’t have one now.

        But just one.

        “Thanks,” you say, leaning forward and positioning the bottle so that the bottom of the cap is against the end of the table. By bringing your hoof down on the top of the bottle, the cap breaks off and the beer is open.

        “That was so cool!” Soarin exclaims, looking at your bottle as though you just suddenly made a beer appear out of thin air. “How’d you do that?”

        “It’s how I open bottles of soda. My parents are both unicorns, so I’ve had to learn to open my own bottles.”

        “Your parents are both unicorns? Really?” he asks in disbelief.

        “Yeah, it’s not common, but it happens.”

        “And you said yesterday that your sister is a unicorn?”

        “That she is,” you say, impressed he remembered that. You didn’t expect him to remember the small details of yesterday’s conversation. “I have another sister who is a unicorn. She’s almost 1 now. You have any siblings?”

        “No,” he shakes his head. “Only child, here. Nothing interesting on my part. So everypony in your family is a unicorn?”

        “Except me, yes. But what about your parents? Both pegasi?”

        “Yeah, yep. Both pegasi. Do you think you can open a bottle again?

        “Yeah, of course.” Soarin hoofs you his beer and you do the same thing; using the table to break off the cap, before hoofing it back to him again.

        “That’s awesome. I was going to ask if you wanted to use the bottle opener, but this is way better.”

        You both take a swig of your drinks. Whatever kind of beer this is is very good. So you take another swig.

        “Who’s playing?” you ask, looking at the basketball game on tv.

        “Uh… Looks like Canterlot and Neigh Orleans. You follow basketball?”

        “Nope.”

        “Me neither,” he chuckles. “What about stunt flying? Ever watch that?”

        “Well… Honestly, no. I’ve been to your events a bunch, but that’s ‘cause Princess Celestia is a big fan.”

        He laughs. “Good! That really does make me happy.”

        “How so?” you ask, a little confused.

        “Talking to a fan is always different than talking to somepony who isn’t. I love my fans to death, honestly, but the conversation does get a little old after a while. Everypony asks me the same sort of questions.”

        “Like what?”

        “Like, they’ll ask how fast I can fly, how much I fly, where I fly, if I fly when I’m not with the Wonderbolts… Notice a trend? I know that must seem like a really stupid thing to complain about.”

        “No, I understand!” you say, laughing. “Royal Guards can’t move or talk when we’re working, right? So I deal with the same kind of things everyday. Or, I used to anyway. Like, when I was a private and just starting out, I guarded the part of the Castle where tours are given, and I swear every tourist would try to talk to me or get me to move or something.”

        Soarin laughs. “So I assume Royal Guards don’t like it when ponies go up to them and make faces?”

        “Ha ha, most don’t. But you get used to it after a while and soon enough you hardly even realize it. It’s just another part of the day”

        “Do you?”

        “I’m an officer now, so actually guarding isn’t really what I do. Sometimes I actually do stand guard, but because of my rank, I personally guard the Princesses, themselves. When I’m not personally guarding anypony, I manage everypony under my command. Make sure they’re doing their job and all that fun stuff.”

        “So you’re actually with Princess Celestia then, like, every single day?”

        “That I am. She’s a very interesting pony, to say the least.”

        “And really smart.”

        “She ought to be, given her job. It’s not something I could do, that’s for sure. Would you mind if I ask you some questions about you and the Wonderbolts?”

        “Yeah, definitely! Ask away!” Soarin relaxes back into the sofa, sipping at his beer, and you do the same, assuming you may be here for a while. But that’s exactly what you’d prefer.

        “After you fly all the way to work, how do you go about practicing flying? Is it like running?” You ask, of course, because you don’t have wings, but since talking to Soarin last night, you have been wondering what pegasi do.

Even after Fleetfoot joined the Wonderbolts, you never cared about professional flying. But after only that one conversation with Soarin, you seem to have become very interested in it.

“No, it’s not really like running exactly… But, then again, it sorta is… I don’t even know how to describe it,” he chuckles.  

        “How do you guys practice it?”

        “Well, we have routines at our shows. You said you’ve seen some of our shows, right?”

        “Just a couple with the Princesses.”

        “Remember those stunts that we do?”

        “I do.”

        “That’s what most of practice is. Coordination. Speed. We start flying pretty slow and gradually get our routines faster and faster.”

        “Don’t you guys do races?” you ask, distinctly remembering pegasi races at these events.

        “Oh yeah, all the time, but we train individually for that, more or less. We don’t like competing against each other especially often. But we do have races against other flying teams, and we take those a bit more seriously.”

        “I didn’t even know there were other flying teams.”

        “Oh, yeah, there’s 6 teams total, and we do races against each other in the late spring and into summer. You’ve never heard of the Cloudsdale 200?”

        “I think I have. But I don’t know really what it is.”

        “Really? Weird. It’s a huge race, right? Every flying team participates and we all compete against each other individually. Whoever crosses the line first wins.”

        “Where is the race.”

        “It starts in Canterlot, which is why it’s weird that you haven’t heard of it, but I guess it is more of a pegasi thing.”

        Earth ponies aren’t very interested in the activities of pegasi.

        Soarin continues. “Then it goes around Stratusberg, an old pegasi village in the clouds. Stratusberg is where the first professional flying team was based, back like hundreds of years ago. And after that, it’s a straight shot to Cloudsdale, where the race is officially over. It’s 200 miles from start to finish.”

        “You can fly 200 miles? Consecutively?”

        “Yes sir! I don’t recommend doing it for fun, but it’s what every professional flyer trains to do all year. After completing the race, most racers take a solid week off to just rest. It’s not as bad as you think, though. It’s all about pacing. Typically, whoever reaches Stratusberg first comes in, like, 50th place or worse.”

        “I can’t even imagine walking 200 miles.”

        “It’d take a lot longer. Sometimes the wind really helps if it’s going with you. A few years ago, it was going against me, and I was sore for weeks afterwards.”

        The both of you continue talking and drinking, talking about your interests and disinterests, and occasionally glancing at the forgotten basketball game on television.

        

==========



        You feel much different now, having drank so much.

        But different in a very good way. You feel happier than usual, and it’s a wonderful feeling. Why don’t you drink all the time?

        Everything does feel much slower now. You like it slower. Life has moved so fast up until now.

        You’re dizzy.

        Soarin and you are still sitting on the couch with each other. You’ve both been here for a few hours now, constantly drinking and talking. Talking has been getting a little harder.

        Nopony else has even come into the same room as the two of you all night. A lot of ponies have already left the party, but there are still a few hanging out in the other rooms.

        How late is it?

        The basketball game ended, but you can’t remember who won. Not like you were paying attention to it anyway.

        “When’d you get your cutie mark?” Soarin slurs a bit, looking down at your flank. “And what is it exactly?” He cocks his head and moves a little closer to you, getting a better look at it. “Looks like a spear.”

        “Th-That it is!” you say happily, looking down at yourself as well. “Got it when I was 10. What about yours?” You look at his flank now. “Isn’t that the same… as the Wonderbolt symbol?”

        “Yep! I got my cutie mark really late. You wanna hear my cutie mark story?”

        “Ab-solutely!” you hiccup.

        “Okay, okay. So, I got my cutie mark really late, like I said. I went all through flight school and still never got it, and I was like, ‘Whaaat?’ Right? Because back then I thought I was the greatest flyer of all time.”

        “Of course.”

        “So I dropped out of flight school without my cutie mark. I knew I was great, so I didn’t need school. But, if I wasn’t gonna go to school, I needed to get a job.” He burps. “Eh, excuse me. So I tried out for the Wonderbolts, ‘cause I always wanted to be one. When I went to tryout, some of the other ponies made fun of me a bit because I didn’t have a cutie mark.”

        “What jerks.”

        “I know! But forget them. I had a great tryout, and by the end of it, I had a place on the team. Right when they said I was on the team, my cutie mark appeared, and guess what it was!”

        “I guess it was the same symbol the Wonderbolts used.”

        “It is the same symbol the Wonderbolts use! And right then, I knew I was going to be on the top of the team one day, and a few years later, I was. Or am.”

        “That’s the greatest cutie mark story I’ve ever heard.”

        “Aww, thanks,” he blushes. “Y-You want another drink?” he asks, getting up off the couch, stumbling around a bit.

        “Sure,” you laugh, watching Soarin try to walk over to the table with the drinks on it.

        With no small amount of effort, the blue pegasus manages to grab a few drinks and slowly, clumsily get back to the couch.

        He places both bottles down on the table before legitimately falling backwards and onto the sofa, partially landing on you.

        “You okay?” you laugh, feeling incredibly happy right now. You wrap a foreleg around his shoulders and put another one on his chest, helping him back up into a normal sitting position.

        You feel him extend a wing and wrap it around your back as he sits up. However, once he sits all the way up, he still doesn’t move his wing, but you don’t move your foreleg from around his back either.

        Eh, who gives a shit.

        “Lemme get these for ya,” Soarin says, leaning forward and using the table to open the bottles like you did earlier. He does both successfully in his first try.

        “You’re an expert now,” you say, taking one of the beers.

        “I’m getting there,” he laughs. You clink your beers together and take a long pull.

        And that’s the last thing you remember.


==========

        
        Were you just sleeping?

        Yes, you were just asleep. And you’re in bed. And still a little drunk, it feels. Everything is happening much slower than usual.

        You can’t remember when your ancient mattress felt this good. It’s so soft and warm, and the pillows have suddenly become incredibly comfortable.

        Strange thing is, you can’t remember going to bed. Or even walking home. It’s good that you got here safely, but you’re still pretty dizzy.

        But that doesn’t matter now. All that matters is that you’re home safe. Oh God, when did your bed get so big?

        You extend your hind legs as far as possible in order to stretch, which typically results in your hooves hanging off the bed, but not now. For some reason, it seems you are still on the mattress. Have you gotten shorter?

        Maybe you should drink more often.

        You try to find your digital alarm clock, but it appears to be lost in the darkness of your room. Hardly anything can be seen right now, but that’s fine.

        But the clock should be glowing in the dark. It’s digital. It’s visible. You hope the batteries didn’t die, or else it won’t go off and wake you up when you have to go to work.

        You can’t believe you’re thinking this, but you’re not feeling up to working. At least, not right now. The drunkenness you were feeling last night has only partially subsided, and you’re abnormally dehydrated.

        You always put a glass of water on your nightstand before going to bed, but you suppose you didn’t bother after getting home. It was probably too hard of a task at the time.

        If there is anything you hope for, it’s that you don’t get a hangover. You’ve never had one in your life, but you have also never gotten this drunk before.

        But it’d also be nice to know the exact time. When you wake up in the morning, it’s always dark, so you can never tell by looking outside when you have to get up. That’s what clocks are for.

        Not only can you not find your clock, but at this very second, you don’t care. Everything seems pretty good right now. You rub your head onto your pillow, enjoying the new soft texture of the thing. Better enjoy it while it lasts.

        The darkness is broken suddenly by a strong light coming from the far end of your room. When did your bedroom door get so far away?

        Somepony is there. Who is that? How’d they get in your apartment.

        The entire room is litten up as the invader turns on the bedroom lights. The lights are much brighter than you remember, and you immediately shut your eyes and put a leg over your face. Your head hurts way too much for this.

        “Is somepony in here?” a familiar voice asks. Is the intruder really asking if you’re here? In the middle of the night?

        But wait a minute... You recognize that voice.

        “Spitfire?” you ask slowly, sitting up a bit. Your leg is still over your eyes, but you peek out to see if it really is her.

        She says your name back, as though she is surprised you’re in your own apartment.

        You rub your eyes and look at the far end of the room to see Spitfire standing in the doorway, looking rather confused. You rub your eyes and look back again.

        This isn’t your room.

        Or your bed.

        Something moves next to you, and after just a second, Soarin sits up from right next to you.

        “Spitfire?” he asks, sounding as confused as everypony else. Then he looks at you, as you are sitting exactly 5 inches from the pegasus, before he gasps your name in surprise.

        “Uh…” you drawl, looking around. “What’s going on?”

        “I have no idea,” Spitfire groans, sounding exhausted. “Sorry for walking in on you two, but somepony threw up on my bed, so I gotta grab some new sheets.” She trots over to the closet, grabs some sheets, and turns back to leave. “Again, sorry guys, I’ll leave ya to it. Good night.”

        And just like that, she turns out the lights again and leaves.

        Leaving you and Soarin alone. In bed. Together.

        “Hey, uh…” Soarin begins after a few moments of silence. “I can’t remember… anything…”

        You clear your throat, feeling very warm. “Neither can I, actually.”

        “Uhm… Did we…? Uh, did we…? You know.”

        If it was possible to light on fire due to a rise in body temperature, you’d have turned into lava by now. He’s asking a good question, but did you really…?

        Everything feels normal to you. There’s nothing to suggest you two did anything together, other than fall asleep.

“I don’t think so,” you say.

“I don’t think so either.”

There is another silence, neither of you having any idea of what to say. For the first time together, neither you nor Soarin are talking. This is what it took for that to happen.

“I’m really sorry,” Soarin says. “This is really embarrassing for me, I mean really embarrassing. This shouldn’t have happened.”

“No, no, I’m sorry,” you say, feeling entirely responsible for whatever apparently happened. “I shouldn’t have drank as much as I did. It was irresponsible, and I’m sorry.”

        There is another moment of silence. A longer moment, and the two of you just sit in it for a while.

        “How are you feeling now?” Soarin asks.

        “Still a little dizzy.”

        “Me too... Um, if you want, you can stay the night here. You don’t have to or anything, but you can if you want. I mean, you can sleep here, and I’ll go to my room, so we can sleep separately, but you can still sleep here… if you want.”

        “I think I will, thanks.” You’re not in any condition to be hobbling back to your apartment. “I’ll leave early for work in the morning. Do you know what time it is?”

        “I’m not sure. I don’t think this room has a clock.”

        There is another moment of silence as you quickly try to think of how to phrase what you’re going to say next.

        “Sorry if I was… using you as a pillow.” The phrasing could’ve been better on that, but oh well.

        He chuckles, a real laugh, and it makes you overjoyed to hear it after awkwardly existing for the past 5 minutes. “Don’t worry about it. I hope I was comfy. I’ll talk with Spitfire in the morning to help clear things up a bit.”

        “Thanks, Soarin.”

        Spitfire did seem to think she was interrupting something when she came in. What she thought you were doing, you’re not entirely sure, but you can guess as to what was running through her mind.

        Soarin hops off the bed slightly drunkenly and makes his way through the dark and towards the door.

        “G-Goodnight,” he says, saying your name.

        “‘Night, Soarin,” you say, before he officially leaves, and you are actually by yourself.

        You flop down hard onto the mattress behind you.

        What in the hell just happened? You haven’t been this confused since you had to take chemistry in high school.

        None of that can be blamed on Soarin, and you feel entirely responsible despite also not really being responsible.

        Great! Great! You managed to be, as far as you know, the only pony to get Soarin, one of the most famous pegasi on the planet, into bed. What if other ponies find out? What will everypony say?

        Shit. You can’t believe that any of this just happened. And you’re still here. And Soarin is here.

        Well, it was nice being friends while that lasted. You’ll probably never speak to each other ever again.

        This sucks. You really like Soarin too. Enough to even follow him up to this guest room when you’re both blackout drunk.

        There is still the possibility of being friends. After sobering up, if the two of you can talk to each other after all this, you might be able to sort everything out.

        And you thought you were confused today at work. Just wait until tomorrow. God knows what you’ll be thinking about all day this time.

        But it’ll probably be Soarin again.

        No wonder you never drink. You’re not exceptionally good at it.

        Oh God.

        You spend the rest of the night not sleeping, but tossing back and forth and thinking, and trying not to think.