//------------------------------// // Chapter 4 // Story: Sleeping With A Friend // by Comet Burst //------------------------------//         “Tuck your wings! Roll, roll, roll!” Soarin gasped for air as his wings pressed close to his body, pulling him into a sharp corkscrew. The ring he was aiming for began to spin as he dove to it. He managed to count to three before his trainer shouted again. “Flare those wings!” his voice roared over the wind. His wings shot out, catching the warm air rising beneath him and nearly bringing Soarin to a complete stop as he passed through the ring. Despite his body’s protests, he flapped them with all his might, rocketing into the air before his trainer could speak. “That’s it! Get up to the next ring!” Soarin’s squinted as sweat streaked across his forehead and nose, stinging his eyes. As he rose to meet the next marker, though, a streak of yellow shot past him and straight through the ring. The blur paused for a split second, allowing him to see Spitfire’s back and orange tail whip forward. His eyes immediately travelled down her frame, slowing to a stop on her rump as he flew past. Despite how warm the air was for training, Soarin felt his cheeks burn as he watched her shoot off to the next marker. “Whoa there! Soarin!” his trainer yelled. “Turn! Follow her!” Soarin shook his head, realizing he had overshot the turn by a few good yards. Snorting, he flared his wings again and tucked his legs in. His weight shifted to his front and when he was aligned perfectly with the next ring, he flapped his wings as hard as he could. The sudden shift in momentum made his stomach churn, but he gulped and laid himself out flat as he hooked through the ring, hot on Spitfire’s trail. Despite how hard he was trying to ignore her, every little movement Spitfire made broke his concentration. The slight shifts her legs made when she turned pulled his gaze back towards her rump while just the act of her glancing back at him made his cheeks uncomfortably warm. After several missed turns and two collisions, Soarin’s trainer forced him to land at the far end of the arena. “Okay. Start talking,” he said. Soarin pulled the water bottle from his lips, despite the scratchy feeling still in his throat. “W-What? I can’t h-have a rough day tr-training?” he asked between gasps. “I’ve seen you on your bad days, Soarin. You’ve never made such rookie mistakes.” Soarin wiped the sweat beading on his forehead. “Yeah, well, I’m… I’m not really into flying today.” The trainer raised an eyebrow. “You can’t expect me to buy that.” Soarin shot an irritated look to him. “Yeah, because you’re not the one actually trying to do the course.” “Excuse me?” Soarin squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Buck! Sorry! Just… ugh, I can’t concentrate.” “I noticed. Now, care to tell me why you’re being snippy with me?” Soarin sighed. “If I tell you, this doesn’t leave us. Okay?” His trainer snorted. “I’ll be the judge of that. Anything dangerous going on needs to be reported. You know that.” Soarin grimaced. “It’s not dangerous, it’s just…” He bit his lower lip as his trainer raised his other eyebrow. “It’s just?” Soarin gulped. “I, uh… broke up… with Dewdrops.” A few seconds of silence passed between them before Soarin looked up at his trainer. “That’s it?” he asked. “That’s it? You wanted an answer, I gave it to you,” Soarin said. His trainer sighed and pressed a hoof to his forehead. “You know that’s no excuse to do this bad at your training, right? Your performance made me think you were injured or something.” “Yeah, I know,” Soarin mumbled, looking back at the training course. He watched the Wonderbolts weave in and out of the clouds, each one pretty easy to tell apart. Fleetfoot was doing full laps around the grounds, evidently trying to improve her speed while Golden Wing stuck to the rings. Velocity dove at incredible speeds while his wingmate, Overdrive, followed closely. Despite all the action, Soarin found himself unable to look away from Spitfire as she weaved through the dives and rings, her trainer barely able to keep up. She was fast today, even faster than she normally was. He watched her perform three dives and passed through four rings in six seconds, making him whistle. There was something different about her and Soarin was sure it had something to do with what happened two nights ago in that hotel room. “Soarin! Eyes up!” his trainer yelled, causing Soarin to snap to attention. His trainer glared at him and opened his mouth to say something, but a whistle rang out across the arena. As all the ponies around them slowed to a stop, Soarin’s trainer closed his mouth and grunted. “Hit the showers,” he said. “Come ready to fly extra tomorrow. I need to be sure you’re at one hundred percent if you want to perform.” Nodding, Soarin turned and flapped his wings, heading back to the locker rooms when Spitfire flew past him, landing and trotting through the door before anypony else could approach. “What’s gotten into her?” Fleetfoot asked as she landed next to Soarin. “I don’t know,” he said, placing his hooves on the fluffy clouds. Fleetfoot raised an eyebrow at him, but Soarin walked off before she could say anything else. “You going to talk or am I going to have to ask the questions?” Fleetfoot asked as she turned on the shower. Spitfire glanced over to her as she rubbed her soapy mane. “What’re you talking about?” she replied. “I want you to tell me, Spitfire. We’re teammates, remember? You shouldn’t keep secrets between them or it undermines the trust we have in each other.” Spitfire shrugged and kept on lathering her mane before shoving her head under the nozzle. “Alright. What happened with you and Soarin?” Fleetfoot asked as she rinsed her mane. Spitfire shot Fleetfoot a confused look. “What gave you that idea?” Fleetfoot threw a glare at her as she put shampoo on her hoof. “Don’t act stupid, Spitfire. You outperformed everypony on the field and Soarin couldn’t fly in a straight line. Something happened. If you don’t tell me, I will ask Soarin.” Spitfire scrunched up her nose. “Nothing happened.” “Not at the bar? Not when the two of you made the front page of every tabloid for your drunken behavior?” Spitfire sighed, looking down at the tile below. “Soarin spent the night in my room, Fleet.” The sound of running water filled the room as Spitfire mulled over the night and following morning. They agreed to not say a word of it to anypony, but it somehow made her upset when she thought of Soarin asking her to not speak of it. “He was really drunk and lost his room key,” she said tonelessly. “He needed a place to sleep, so I invited him in.” “And then?” Spitfire sighed. “He slept on the floor and went to find Dewdrops when he woke up.” She shut off her shower and turned to leave when Fleetfoot stomped her hoof. “Really!” she shouted. “Come on! You have him all to yourself and you make him sleep on the floor?” Spitfire glanced back. “Yeah. He’s got a marefriend.” Fleetfoot groaned and jammed a hoof into her mane. “I’m so disappointed in you, Spitfire,” she hissed. Spitfire picked up a towel and walked back to her locker. “Yeah, me too,” she mumbled. Soarin peeked around the corner of the door, glancing about the office. A diploma from Canterlot University hung on the wall, right above a huge stack of papers and several unopened bundles of mail on an overcrowded desk. Pushing the door open, he looked around the wall to see two empty chairs. “Huh, she’s usually here by now,” he said, pulling his head out and closing the door. Once it clicked shut, he trotted down the hallway back to the locker rooms when he bumped into another pony, flinging a bunch of letters into the air. “Oh, excuse me!” Soarin said, reaching for the letters as they flew. “No, no! I’m sorry!” the pony responded, grabbing for the letters as well. Eventually, all the envelopes were collected and Soarin grinned at the pony. “Hey, I’m sorry for bumping into you. I, uh, didn’t see you there.” “Oh, it’s okay,” the pony replied, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “It’s not every day I get run into by a legend.” Soarin snorted. “Nah, not a legend yet.” “Well, you’re a legend in my book, Mister Soarin,” the pony said, nodding his head. “Uh, thanks then… uh…” “Penbrook, Mister Soarin. I’m the mailpony for the managers.” “Oh! Penbrook! Nice name.” The pony blushed. “Naw, it’s not that good.” Soarin smiled. “Say, do you deliver to Dewdrops office? I’ve been looking for her.” The pony blinked. “Yes, but I haven’t seen her all day.” “Odd. Did she notify anypony she wouldn’t be in?” “Don’t think so.” Soarin glanced back at the office with a curious look before a familiar bright blue mane rounded the corner. “Ah, there she is! Thanks for your help, Penbrook!” he said as he trotted down the hall. “Um, can I get your autograph sometime?” Penbrook called back. Soarin’s smile widened as Dewdrops saw him and froze. “Hey, sweetie pie! I was wor—” Soarin froze as another pony looked at him with the same look Dewdrops had. He was about Soarin’s height, but a little less built and orange with a brown mane. “Sweetie?” Soarin asked. “What are you doing here?” she replied. “I was, uh, looking for you,” he said, looking from the new pony to her. “Is he a relative?” Dewdrops shifted on her hooves. “No, he’s not.” “Friend?” The stallion smiled and held out a hoof. “Hey, you’re Soarin! I’ve always wanted to meet you!” Soarin smiled and shook his hoof. “Nice to meet you too, erm?” “Asteroid Smash,” he said, smiling widely. “I’m Dewdrops coltfriend.” Silence rang out as Soarin’s leg went weak. “Coltfriend?” “Yeah, she was real upset when we met and covered in puke. I helped her get cleaned up and she asked me out on a date.” Soarin looked over to Dewdrops. “Yep, a real gentlecolt,” she said smiling at Asteroid and hugging his leg. “W-What?” Soarin asked. Dewdrops shot him an icy look. “Well, since my last coltfriend ditched me for a night of drinking and then threw up all over me, I was understandably upset. Asteroid gave me some new clothes and allowed me to use his shower, so it was only natural we started talking and—” “Can we talk for a second, Dewdrops?” Soarin asked quickly. Dewdrops gasped. “If you can’t say it to both of us, then no.” Soarin ground his teeth as his heart beat in his ears. “Dewdrops, I’m sure that whoever threw up on you is very, very sorry he did.” Dewdrops turned her nose up at him. “He didn’t seem like it when he acted without thinking.” Asteroid looked at both of them, a confused expression on his face. “Perhaps that’s because he was drunk, Dewdrops, and he wasn’t in full control of himself that night.” “Then he ought to learn his lesson the hard way and deal with what’s happened. After all, he brought it on himself.” Soarin’s voice caught in his throat as he tried to respond, but Dewdrops spoke first. “Please excuse us, Soarin, but I’d rather not talk about my personal life so casually. Don’t you have something to go do? Like training or flying or whatever you stuntponies do in your spare time?” Soarin felt his chest burn as he sucked in a breath. “Yes, I believe I do. Sorry for disturbing you.” He nodded to Asteroid before turning down the hall and trotted off, his hooves echoing with each step. “Wow, he’s totally not what I expected,” Asteroid murmured as he watched Soarin round another corner. Dewdrops giggled. “They’re a little jarring, aren’t they? Spitfire’s the worst of the bunch.” Asteroid looked back at her. “Oh?” “Yeah, she’s manipulative and just nasty to everypony. But forget about them, tell me more about this book you’re writing. It sounded so fascinating!” Asteroid smiled as Dewdrops pushed open her office door. “Yeah, it’s about this really cool dragon who comes to Equestria and forges the sun.” Soarin scowled at the bottle as he gulped down more of its contents. The taste of sour apples made him cringe, but he forced himself to drink the rest. He coughed a few times before wiping his mouth with the back of his hoof. “You okay over there?” the barpony asked. “Yeah, just get me another cider,” Soarin grunted. The barpony popped the cap off the brown bottle and placed it on the counter. Soarin threw his head back and started chugging the sweet liquor before slamming it on the counter. “I hate mares,” he grumbled. “Why’s that?” the barpony asked as he rubbed a cloth on the inside of a glass. “They’re so bucking selfish, the lot of them! You make one mistake, especially while drunk off your flank, and they dump you the next morning! No room for sorry, no time to make it up to her, nothing! Just a new piece of flank shows up and that’s it!” The barpony raised his eyebrows. “Seems like you got in a bit of a spot with one, eh?” “Got in with two mares, if you can believe it.” The barpony whistled. “Being you, I’m not that surprised.” “Yeah, well, it sucks!” Soarin yelled before chugging on the remainder of the bottle. Once it was empty, Soarin placed the bottle on the counter and the barpony whisked it away. “Well, I hope that one of them isn’t that petty,” he sighed. Soarin grunted. “Yeah, but she’s not my type.” “Why not? Sounds like you hooked up with her.” “I did because we were piss drunk! We couldn’t control what we did and it turned my marefriend into a cold… harshwhinny!” “Wait, so you cheated on your marefriend? Why are you complaining, then?” Soarin bit his tongue and pounded a hoof into the counter. “Because she doesn’t know I cheated on her,” he mumbled. “What?” “I said, ‘she doesn’t know I cheated on her’!” The barpony scrunched up his nose. “And you’re sure?” “She certainly didn’t rub it in my face like she did with what she left me for!” “And why did she leave you?” Soarin sighed. “Remember how I said I was piss drunk?” The barpony nodded. “I drank too fast and puked on her.” “Oooo. Ouch. Yeah, I’m not surprised she broke up with you.” Soarin gave a pointed look at the barpony. “Then what do you recommend I do?” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you want her back?” Soarin froze before he answered. “Not right now, no.” “What about the other mare? The one you slept with. Does she hate you?” Soarin brushed some of his mane from his face. “I don’t think so.” “You sure?” “Pretty sure.” The barpony uncapped another cider and placed it on the counter. “Then why don’t you go see her? If she slept with and doesn’t hate you, then it’s worth a shot.” Soarin stared at the bottle’s label, glancing over the apples hanging off the tree in the picture. “I told her we can’t be together,” he said tonelessly. “Why not?” “You ask a lot of questions.” “As long as you answer them, I’ll keep asking.” Soarin sighed, his head feeling like it was floating. “It’s complicated. Like, really complicated.” “She special to you?” Soarin gulped. “Very. She was my colthood friend and has always been there for me.” “If you’ve known her that long and she’s comfortable sleeping with you, maybe she’s a better option. Sounds like she’s been there for you a lot.” Soarin frowned as memories of Spitfire flooded his mind. They had been friends since before they could speak and had grown up outside the Wonderbolt stadium, watching the legends perform when they could afford to. He had done so much with her, from sharing small things like his slice of pie and even a scarf so she wouldn’t get a cold. Even when he broke his leg, Spitfire was there, egging him on to do better and smiling the whole time. “You really think so?” Soarin asked. The barpony shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt. If she says no, then she says no.” Soarin picked up the bottle and sipped from it, savoring the flavor. The crisp green apple bite made him think of being at home, when his mom would cook fresh pies for the bakery his family owned. Of course, he and Spitfire would stand there drooling as she pulled them from the oven. Spitfire lay on her bed, glancing over the pictures of windsurfers and occasionally reading a caption. In the back of her mind, her thoughts were about Soarin and what he and Dewdrops would be talking about. She was sure Dewdrops would forbid him from ever hanging out with her again and possibly talking about taking the story to the presses. It would be rather easy to paint the victim angle from Soarin’s side, especially with a class act liar like Dewdrops training him. Still, part of her wondered if Dewdrops would even take back Soarin. It wasn’t like Dewdrops would admit to cheating on him, even if she was caught. Part of her chest twinged as she pictured Soarin’s pained face and how he would blame her for ruining his relationship forever, assuming they would still be friends after this. Soarin was the last pony she would ever dream of hurting, even if by accident. His family had taken her in from the moment they met and always made sure she had plenty to eat, even when her father lost his job and almost gave her up for adoption. Whenever she cried or needed somepony, though, Soarin was there with a slice of pie, a scarf or even a hug. She cherished his kind heart and fun spirit when they were little and felt herself losing touch with him once Dewdrops stepped in. Despite the reconditioning he was forced to go through, Spitfire always knew that at his heart, Soarin was the same silly pony she had grown up with. He would always be there for her, even when she didn’t know she needed him. Her cheeks began to redden when a pounding came from the front door. She looked up from her magazine and leaned over to see out her bedroom. “Who is it?” she called. “Spits, it’s me,” came Soarin’s voice. Rising from her bed, she hopped off and trotted to the door. She peeked through the small viewer to see the familiar blue mane. She unlocked the door and opened it, catching a waft of green apple cider. “Soarin? What’re you doing here?” Spitfire asked. “Hey, Spits,” he said with a glazed smile. “I just came by to see how you were doing.” She gave the air another sniff. “Are you drunk again?” “No,” Soarin said, the sharpness returning to his eyes. “I’ve had a bit to drink, but I’m not like that night.” “Oh, then what’s up?” “Well, Dewdrops dumped me,” he said, looking at his hooves. Spitfire rocked on her own hooves. “Can’t say I’m surprised by that.” “Yeah, but I wasn’t able to tell her about, uh, what happened between us.” She raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t?” “Yeah, she got some new punk of a coltfriend. He’s orange and has some dumb name about comets or angels or something.” “And you didn’t tell her about what happened… why?” Soarin gulped. “Er, well, because she kept talking about me puking on her.” “And that was it?” “That’s what she said did it for her.” Spitfire kicked a little puff of cloud before Soarin looked her in the eye. “Sorry,” she mumbled, looking down at her hooves. “Hey, don’t be sorry. You didn’t puke on her.” Spitfire’s vision began to blur. “Yeah, but if I listened to you and didn’t force you to drink—” “I would’ve done it anyway. You know that.” She shook her head. “No, you would’ve been sm-smarter than m-me and j-just left.” A tear began to roll down her nose. She had done it this time. She had ruined his life. As she struggled to stop herself from crying, a blue hoof reached out and gently touched her chin. She looked up at Soarin while he wiped the tear off her, smiling the whole time. “Spits, I may have changed for Dewdrops, but I’ll never abandon my friends,” he said. He gave her no time to reply before pulling her into a hug. Spitfire shook slightly, but returned the hug, staving off the rest of the tears. His hug was warm, comforting and just felt right. She smiled as he let her go and they stared at each other for a few seconds. “Hey, want to come in?” she asked. “I have some blueberry pie leftover.” Soarin nodded and smiled. “I’d love some.” To say Soarin was a messy eater was a massive understatement. The single slice of pie had become a mushy mess all over the plate. His hooves had turned as blue as his mane as he tried to lick the filling off, making Spitfire chuckle. Growing up in a bakery, Soarin adored pie above all other pastries. Apple and peach were his favorites, but he ate just about any other kind except pumpkin. “Think you could’ve made a bigger mess?” she asked. Soarin paused licking his hoof and glanced at her, his tongue still attached to it. His goofy face made her chuckle again as she picked up the plate with her wing. “I’ll get the dishes. The bathroom is over near my bedroom if you want to use soap instead of saliva to clean up.” She trotted into the kitchen and hummed as she turned on the water, rinsing the remaining pie from it. Grabbing the dish soap, she began to lather up the sponge when a hoof touched her back. Turning, she was about to say something when a set of lips pressed to hers, tasting suspiciously like blueberries. Spitfire gasped and pulled back, separating herself from Soarin. “What was that for?” she asked, her voice on the verge of cracking. “I thought about what you said back at the hotel, Spits.” “We agreed we wouldn’t do that!” “As long as I was with Dewdrops,” Soarin replied, his tone serious. “I remember you saying you would never agree to it.” “Well, let me make my offer, then,” he said, staring her in the eyes. “I want to make you happy and if this is what does it for you, I’ll happily do it as long as either one of us doesn’t have a mare or coltfriend.” “Soarin, I’m happy just seeing you happy. Sex isn’t what I want from you! I don’t know why I brought that up then, but—” “But you did, and I told you as long as I was still with Dewdrops, I wouldn’t do it. She dumped me for other reasons and now if your offer still stands, I would be happy to agree.” Spitfire gagged for a moment on her own voice as her cheeks reddened. “B-but I nearly ruined your life!” she cried. Soarin narrowed his eyes. “If you really don’t want to, tell me it now without an excuse as to why not.” Her voice caught again as she stared at him, her excuses melting with each second. There were millions of reasons not to sleep with Soarin, but all the ones she could come up with were flimsy at best. She had enjoyed that night with him and she had been thinking about it almost nonstop since, despite her facade. Now all she had to do was say yes. “If we do this, I want to set some ground rules,” she said, lifting a shaking hoof. “First, this isn’t a romance of any kind. We do this to help each other feel good; no dates, flowers or anything.” Soarin nodded. “Second, you are to avoid any kind of sex with me during my heat. I will let you know when the next one is, but that whole time, you stay away from me. Got it?” “Got it.” “And third, nopony knows about this. We don’t tell Fleetfoot, the trainers, Dewdrop, anypony. This is strictly between you and me.” Soarin smiled. “Done. Anything else?” Spitfire shook her head. “Not unless you have anything.“ “Are fetishes banned?” Spitfire gulped. “No bondage or domination. That stuff creeps me out.” “Likewise,” Soarin said with a smile. “Is food out of the question?” Spitfire gave a small giggle. “Whipped cream and fruits are fine. If you want something bigger, like pies, we need to talk it over.” Soarin nodded. “I accept these terms and conditions.” “You sure?” Spitfire asked, staring into his eyes. “Don’t say yes unless you are absolutely sure.” Soarin stared back for a few seconds and leaned towards her. “I’m sure,” he said before planting another blueberry flavored kiss on her. Spitfire didn’t resist him this time as he picked her up and placed her rump on the counter, his tongue dancing about with hers. It felt right, and that was all she needed to know.