I don’t know if I’ve ever been so embarrassed in all my life.
So many stories. So much “you’ll never believe what she tried to do next!” And far too much blushing on my part.
My cheeks still burn just thinking about it as I run a washcloth over my cheeks to chase away the remaining stickiness from Daring’s cake assault. I wince as I touch the spot she hit. She may have pulled her punch a little bit, but dang that girl has a mean right cross.
“You okay?” she asks, glancing over as she works to remove her makeup.
“Just a bit of a stinger. You gave me a heck of a bruise with that punch.”
Daring stops. She gives a little cough and looks away. “That was a slap. Not a punch.”
Oh. That would explain why it felt like my teeth had only been slightly jostled rather than knocked down my throat. Yay?
Well, I kinda deserved it. I still probably do. So, I’ll just shut up and take solace in the fact that she didn’t pummel me.
But seriously. Ow.
“I’ll just avoid getting slapped from here on out.” Yeah, no more of that. With the remnants of icing cleared from my cheek, I toss the washcloth over to the hamper. “So, my stupid plan going screwy aside, did you at least have fun tonight?”
I see her smile at her own reflection before turning to face me. “Yes, actually! Your teammates are, surprisingly, a lot more fun than I thought they’d be. Especially those two you insist are dating—Soarin and Spitfire, right?”
“They totally are. You didn’t see them getting cozy earlier tonight at the lounge, and then again while they watched you chase me around. Spitfire’s the one who tripped me.”
Sniggering, she nods. “I know. She told me.”
That mule. Three cans’ worth of silly string will seem like foals’ play when I’m through with her.
Still, I can’t help but smile. She had fun, just like I wanted, and she made friends with all of my friends, plus two griffons that neither of us knew but made friends with via Rainbow Dash.
I shall count that as a win along with, albeit grudgingly, her enjoyment a bit of entertainment at my expense. If Rapid, Wild, and Spits can have her howling while they relay the time my coat and mane dye prank backfired and Spits made me fly all of our public practices colored neon pink, then fine.
But there’s a little something else I need to take care of now that we’re back home and cozy. Well, two somethings.
Nudging her with my shoulder, I shoo her out of the bathroom, much to her amusement. “So, I see we’re done washing up, huh?” she teases.
“One or two more things I have for you—well, one thing for, one thing to kinda float to you.”
Her ears perk up. “Oh yeah?” I feel Daring’s feathers trail up my side, teasing between my wing joints. “What sort of things do you have to give and float?”
A shiver runs down my spine, all the way to the very ends of my tail. Dang it, she’s starting to push buttons!
I can’t have that yet! I shrug out from under her wing, stealing a quick nip to her ear that draws one of those adorable squeals from the back of her throat. “None of that yet! Fun claiming whose butt belongs to whom time has to wait!”
She snorts, but the effect is rather ruined by the blush coloring her cheeks. “There is no question whose butt belongs to whom, but if you want a reminder, I’ll be happy to give you a refresher course.”
Another shiver runs down my spine. This mare, I swear …
I force myself to push it to the side for a moment and lead her into the bedroom. In retrospect, this isn’t the best place to go right after telling her to wait for this sort of thing, but I hid the one gift in my nightstand because it’s the one place she never looks.
No particular reason why. Just “it’s your nightstand, why would I need to go in there?”
My Daring is an odd pegasus sometimes.
Then again, so am I.
Guiding her to stand beside the bed, I open the nightstand drawer and pull out a small black pouch. I considered a little box, but Soarin and Spitfire strongly advised against it unless I was about to propose to Daring.
I love Daring quite a lot, but I don’t know if either of us are ready for marriage. We’re still in the playful “your butt belongs to me” versus “no, your butt belongs to me” stage.
We quite like this stage for now.
“I, uh …” Licking my lips, I offer the pouch to her. “I got you something while we were on tour. It’s a thing from Saddle Arabian culture, and I know you love that stuff …”
Daring smiles and takes the pouch. “I just got done lecturing about the Silk Road last month.” She tilts her head. “Or was that last semester? No matter.” With a mere tug, she pulls the pouch open and shakes it to bring out the contents. Her eyes light up at the flash of gold and torquoise in her hoof, a gasp escapes her lips. “Fleetfoot, this—Fleety, no, this must’ve cost—”
“Oh, shut up and take it, you pansy! I got it for you, and I don’t think the shops in the bazaar have a return policy, so you’re stuck with it.” She is. So there. I roll my hoof in a forward circle. “Well, go on! Put it on!”
With a bit of a wrinkling of her snout, she obeys. She undoes the fasten and wraps the gold chain around her neck, the turquoise pendant seems to jump out—it’s a strange, but wonderful contrast to her tan coat. She wears it well.
Of course she does. She’s Daring Do.
Daring doesn’t wear things unwell. Or … whatever the opposite is.
Touching the pendant with her hoof, she smiles. “How does it look?”
Um … can I just say that Princess Celestia could walk in, raise the sun, dance a jig, and leave and I wouldn’t notice her?
Sure, it’s the most coherent thought I’ve got. “Princess Celestia could walk in, raise the sun, dance a jig, and leave and I wouldn’t notice her.”
She laughs and her tail swishes merrily. Just like I’d hoped.
“You’re sweet.” Daring kisses my nose. I feel a hoof slide up to my shoulder, gently nudging and maneuvers me toward the bed.
Our lips meet, her tongue trails along my lips. My eyes flutter shut as the bed comforter brushes against my rump. My tail swishes against the bed as she leads me further and further onto the mattress, guiding me to lay down on my back as she settles down on top of me.
Wait. No, seriously, wait. I definitely want this, but I also want to get something else off my chest before she gets comfortable on me.
But danged if I don’t like the whole “Daring on top of me” thing I have going for me right now.
With no shortage of reluctance, I place a hoof against her chest and push her back just slightly. I gasp for breath. She’s always known how to just take it away from me.
“One second,” I say in between breaths. “I still have one more thing to, uh, float to you.”
She smirks and leans in to peck my lips. “Float fast, then, flymare.” Her teeth nip my lips. Somepony’s eager.
Well, good. So am I.
I dart forward and lick her lips—Celestia, she tastes sweet. “I, uh, well we’ve been dating for about a year now. So, um, this is kinda something I’ve been thinking about in terms of … well, moving forward a bit.”
“Moving forward?” She blinks. “Moving forward how?”
No turning back. Go full speed ahead, Fleety, old girl.
“I was, um, wondering if you might wanna consider moving in together—it doesn’t necessarily have to be here!” I add hastily. “Canterlot could work, I’d just have to commute and all, but it’s a thing I wanted to bring up and think about and maybe let you think about and, oh gosh I’m rambling, I should really stop that, but I’m kinda unsure if I’m at a good place to—”
Apparently, Daring’s decided to make a stopping point for me. With her lips. And her tongue.
My feathers fluff as I arch my back and hum. She’s unfairly good at this.
Still, this is not an answer. I need verbal confirmation, here.
I push her back again. Dear Celestia, I feel like I’ve run a mile and this is the best thing ever, but I really need to get a verbal answer.
“You still haven’t answered.”
Daring looks up at the ceiling and lets out a groan. “One day, Fleety. By Celestia, I swear, one day I’m going to get you to take context clues!” Her hooves press down on my shoulders, pinning me to the bed.
“… So, is that a—”
“Son of a—yes!”
I would gladly leap into the air and do a backflip while cheering at the top of my lungs, but being pinned kinda negates my ability to do that.
And something about the way Daring captures my lips and slips her tongue into my mouth again suggests that she would immensely prefer that I busy myself in another way.
As always, I am more than open to such negotiations.
Happy birthday, Daring.