A Job With Benefits

by Boomstick Mick

Honoring Tradition

Soarin's nightmare haunted his thoughts as he glided along a powerful headwind. Big Mac had lied to him. His dream was not a warning; it was merely a prelude of things to come - absolute and unchangeable. No matter how hard he would try to get away from his past, it would always loom over him, ready to shove him headfirst into the gutter every time he tried to pick himself back up.

He had suddenly found himself caught in a downdraft. It was as if even the wind itself was conspiring against him. Instead of fighting against it he let himself fall into a sharp dive. He eventually felt a break in the wind, where he leveled himself and rode out the momentum his descent had given him.

He could see it now, his old barn, an ancient sentinel of rotted wood in the distance. Soarin gritted his teeth, unable to remember a time in his life when he was in such a black mood. He didn't even bother aiming toward the hole in the roof. He slammed into it and made another, landing at such a force that he made a small crater filled with splinters and bits of broken floorboard. "Show yourself!" He yelled blindly into the darkness, thrashing his way wildly out of the hole, kicking up dust and debris in every direction.

There was a slight sound at first, a creaking of floor boards as small, graceful hooves glided across them. "Aren't we testy," Spitfire taunted as she drew near. The moonlight shining through the holes and cracks of the barn finally revealed her, the pale rays kissing her exquisite curves and setting a flame the fierce molten orange of her eyes. She sat back on her haunches, completely undaunted by Soarin's display of fury. "I was beginning to think you weren't going to show up."

Soarin scowled at her. "What do you want from me?" he snapped. "I was in the middle of the best night of my life, Spitfire!"

The captain turned her head ever-so-slightly, her eyes narrowing slyly in that smug way they did just before she would deliver a retaliatory remark. "Is that any way to speak to someone who's doing you a favor?"

"A favor?" Soarin scoffed. "We've nothing to say to each other. You've never made that more clear to me than you did the other night."

"Funny you should mention last night," Spitfire said. "That's pretty much what brought me here."

"What are you talking about? You told me to leave. you told me to go kill myself. What more could you possibly have to say to me?"

"I figured I'd have to spell everything out for you," Spitfire sighed. "I've recently discovered something that I think you should be made aware of."

"And what is that?" Soarin's eyes were now beginning to adjust to the gloom of his barn. There were two figures standing in the background that he hadn't noticed until that point. He squinted, straining his vision to its limit in an attempt to identify them. "Who's that with you?"

"It's because of one of them that I had to come down here." Spitfire snapped her stern gaze toward one of the figures. "Wave Chill," she barked, "front and center!"

"Y-yes, ma'am," the Wonderbolt's voice quivered as he shuffled forward.

"Wave Chill?" Soarin called out to him. "What's going on?"

"Yeah, Wave Chill." The Captain unfolded her wings and elevated herself. She hovered in the air to look down upon them like some sort of contemptuous goddess ready to pass judgement. She crossed her arms in an authoritative manner. "Your best friend here would like to know what's going on. Why don't you tell him?"

Wave Chill finally stepped into the light, donning that peculiar raincoat the barkeep had mentioned. It was shiny red, and the hood was inexplicably drawn over his face.

"The bartender told me someone in a raincoat gave him a message," Soarin said. "That was you, wasn't it?"

"I... Yeah, it was me. Spitfire sent me," stammered Wave Chill, his tone racked with nerves.

"Why are you still wearing that coat?" Soarin quarried. "The public isn't going to hassle you here."

Wave Chill pointed his muzzle down. "I guess," he admitted.

Spitfire cleared her throat impatiently.

Wave Chill stiffened for a moment - then he moved to remove his hood.

"What's wrong with you?" The raincoat-clad stallion was so slow in the act of removing the garment that Soarin decided to remove it for him. He approached and pulled the hood away to reveal a face that had been battered and welted beyond recognition. Soarin sucked in a sharp gasp of air through his teeth. "What the hell happened to you?"

"I happened to him," Spitfire announced coldly, without the slightest hint of pride or regret.

"You... You just think you can do whatever you want to anyone you want, don't you!" Soarin roared in outrage.

"No," Spitfire replied. "I know I can do whatever I want to anyone I want - but let's stay focused on the topic at hoof."

"Soarin," came the familiar voice of the other figure. She hovered in from out of the gloom to reveal herself. "I think you should hear what your buddy there has to confess, before you end up saying something the Captain makes you regret."

"Fleet Foot?"

"S'up, dumbass?" She replied in an upbeat, jovial manner that didn't quite seem appropriate for the situation.

"Oh, great, you're here, too?" Soarin facehooved. "To think, I could be stealing smooches from the closest thing on this planet to a goddess in mare form, but instead, I get to spend my evening with you douche bags. How does one stallion come to be so lucky?"

Spitfire ignored the harry. "Why don't you tell him why we're here, Waves?"

Soarin noticed the peculiar way his old friend avoided eye contact. "What's wrong with you?" He pieced and puzzled over this sad, beaten stallion who trembled before him. He seemed only a mere husk of the friend that he once knew. He shook, he stammered, he mumbled. The Wave Chill that Soarin knew was fun loving and optimistic; he was cool, he was kind, he was daring, he was energetic. What was it that could have sucked so much life out of him? "Waves?"

The sullen stallion murmured something.

"What?"

"It's... it's all my fault, Soarin."

"What's all your fault?"

"I'm... Soarin, I'm sorry."

"Out with it, already!" Spitfire commanded. "The sooner you get this over with, the sooner we can go home!"

It looked like Wave Chill was reaching into his coat for something, but when he drew his hoof out from the folds of the slicker he produced nothing. Soarin pondered over that until he spoke. "Soarin," he finally said, "we've been friends for a long time and, no matter what Spitfire says, I'll always consider you to be my friend. I just wanted to start out by saying that. These last few days have been hell for--

"Wave Chill!" Spitfire bristled. "Get on with it. Don't make me say it again."

The stallion flinched under the captain's ire.

Why is he being so submissive? Soarin wondered. It wasn't like Wave Chill to let anyone treat him in such a way. Not even the Captain. Soarin could remember a time long ago when Spitfire went a little over board with the verbal abuse on Wave Chill during a formation drill. It had almost resulted in blows being exchanged between them. It took the efforts of six burly academy associates to keep them from fighting. Wave Chill was put on administrative suspension for an entire month afterwards. The first thing he did when he returned from his hiatus was smile and thank Spitfire for the vacation.

"Soarin," he began again, "the one who went to the press. The one who told them you left the team high and dry over a financial dispute." He looked away, revealing a grotesque hoof shaped bruise where his eye socket had been cracked. The eye itself was a hideous thing to look upon: large, black, glistening, like a skinless rotten plum. "It was me."

"It was..." Soarin just looked at him uncomprehendingly. The words couldn't seem to find purchase within his mind. "You... What?"

"You see that?" Spitfire interjected. "It was all this idiot's fault. So you can stop blaming me for all the BS the papers are saying about you."

Soarin blinked. "Wave Chill... She's - she's making you say this, isn't she?"

The sullen stallion remained silent.

"She's making you say this, right? She..." He pointed a desperate hoof toward his former Captain. "She's making you say this! She beat you until you agreed to it. Or she threatened to discharge you if you refused... Right?" He took Wave Chill by the collar of his coat and forced the one good eye he had left to meet with his. "Right?"

"I was going to tell you sooner," Wave Chill confessed. "Remember when I gave you the paper a few days ago? I was going to tell you right then and there that it was my fault, but Spitfire showed up and I... I just froze."

"How!" Soarin demanded. "You and Fleetfoot both told me you were there with Spitfire when they were hounding her for an interview."

"I went directly to their headquarters a few days later," he explained. "All I told them was that there was a financial dispute. Their ratings shot through the roof when they mentioned you in the paper, so they snowballed it. They started adding bits and pieces of their own story to turn you into their cash cow. They kept crediting an 'anonymous source' for the information to avoid allegations of defamation. Those bastards at the Foal Street Journal have probably been working the same underhoofed angle for years now."

"Your speculations aren't important," Spitfire interrupted. "The facts are all that matter."

Wave Chill whipped around to face her. "The 'fact' is that I did it for you, Captain! The press wouldn't leave us alone. It was driving you crazy. It was driving all of us crazy. Someone had to do something!" He returned to Soarin and added, "I figured the media would just pick on you for a couple days, then move on to their next target. I just wanted them to leave us alone, Soarin! I never would have thought--

"That's quite enough, Wave Chill. you've said what you needed to say," interjected Spitfire. "Soarin, you came to Cloudsdale the other day to blame me for all your problems. I can't believe you actually thought I'd go so far as to waste breath talking about a little worm like you to the press." She cast a smoldering glare down upon Wave Chill. If there ever was a mare who could scold and rebuke with nothing but her eyes. "Now you know who's at fault for everything."

"How did you even know that Wave Chill was the one who went to the press?" Soarin demanded.

"I went straight to the source: The Foal Street Journal headquarters. I asked around until I finally found the bastard reporter who conducted the interview for the headline - who, in term, led me to Wave Chill. Waves was reluctant to confess at first. It took a little..."

"Convincing?" Fleetfoot put in helpfully.

"Sure. 'Convincing.' We'll call it that. After that little bit of pleasant business was over, I managed to get him to confess everything to me. Am I leaving anything out, Waves? Or perhaps Soarin would like to hear your confession again. It looks like he's having some comprehension issues. We shouldn't be surprised, him being a borderline retard, and all."

Wave Chill said nothing, though the shame in his eyes illustrated his thoughts far more eloquently than words ever could.

Soarin hung his head. "How could you do this to me?"

Wave Chill placed a concerned hoof on his shoulder. "I never meant for any of this to get out of control."

"No, you only meant to use me as a diversion," Soarin dejected as he swat his hoof away. He then looked to his captain. "So, tell me again what the point of this was?"

"So you can stop blaming me," Spitfire replied. "How many languages must I say it in? I don't speak moron. Can you speak Moron, Fleet Foot? I may need an interpreter."

Fleetfoot's eyes snapped to her capatin at the mention of her name. "Wot?"

"Have you been listening to anything I've been saying?"

"Yeah, kinda," Fleetfoot yawned. "I wasn't really paying attention, though." She looked at Soarin. "Hey, idiot, where's Braeburn at? I just bought this new ball gag, and I've been wanting to try it out."

Soarin's eye twitched before he returned his attention to his former captain. "So, let me see if I can get this straight. It's like you said, I'm a moron; I'm having a difficult time understanding this: You were just soooo concerned over what I thought about you, you decided to drag your butt all the way over to the Foal Street journal, you started chucking hooves and throwing bows until one of them gave up their source, then you beat the ever living holy hell out of your subordinate, dragged him down here, and forced him to confess to me, all so I wouldn't think bad things about you?"

"I don't like your tone." Spitfire gave him a dangerous look. "Are you trying to drive at something?"

Soarin's eyes narrowed accusingly. "I think you know what I'm getting at."

"You're thinking?" Spitfire exclaimed in mock concern. "Don't hurt yourself. Neither of us want that."

Soarin refused to rise to the bait. "You just wanted to see the look on my face, didn't you? You've told me countless times that you couldn't care less what I thought about you. The only one in this barn who truly doesn't care what anyone thinks is freaking Fleetfoot over there!"

"Yup," Fleetfoot mumbled through a shiny red ball gag that she, at an unknown point, had inserted into her mouth.

Spitfire glared at Soarin in a manner that seemed to say, 'How dare you.' "After everything I went through for you, you just throw out more accusations. Are you finished? Or do you have more supposed reasons as to why I did this, you ungrateful little prick?"

"You're a cold, hard, vindictive bitch!" Soarin spat. "You just hate me because my life was easier than yours. You pretty much said so yourself. You're going to continue to take every opportunity you can smear dirt in my eye over your self-inflicted misery, aren't you?"

"Anything else?" Spitfire asked. "Or do you have anymore insane ramblings you wish to hurl at me?"

Soarin could only look at her. He felt his sanity slipping away into a void of such severe hate that it threatened to desensitize him to any other emotion. Never in his life had he known such loathing, such animosity. He didn't even care about what Wave Chill had done to him. He looked at Spitfire, and only Spitfire, because she was all that he could see. She was the root of all his issues. If he could only go back in time and tell his younger self to stay away from the Wonderbolts, and that somewhere, in a little town below the clouds, there existed a quaint little hamlet, with a quaint little farm, where the most beautiful blonde who ever existed would be waiting for him to come into her life.

Soarin clenched his eyes shut as tightly as he could. He could feel a tear trying to work its way through, but he fought it back with all his might. Applejack, she was the adhesive that was holding him together. She was all he had left, but even now, he feared he was losing her And it's all Spitfire's fault.

Spitfire regarded her former teammate with nothing more than a haughty look of contempt before turning around and making her way to the exit. "Soarin," came her parting words, as she sauntered in slow paces toward the barn door, "you're just a washed up who's glory days are behind him. You've gotten by your entire life with nothing but pure luck, and now that your luck has finally run out, you desperately look for someone to blame for all your misgivings. Whether you stop blaming me, or continue to blame me, it's all up to you." She stopped at the door. "Although... I have to admit, there is a small part of me that's enjoying this - seeing you receive your long overdue comeuppance."

Soarin looked down at the ground in a cold, black fury - grasping desperately for a rebuke, some ultimate last word. A real crusher that he could manage to go out on, but "Spitfire, just, just die already," was all he could manage.

"Just die already?" Spitfire cackled. "Careful not to cut yourself with that sharp wit of yours."

Soarin could only brood in his silence. So, this is what my life is going to be? Just one kick in the ass after the other?

*WHACK*

A flat, fleshy smack resounded from the entrance of the barn. Soarin's ears twitched at the sound before his eyes honed in on the source of the noise. Spitfire could be seen reeling backwards from out of the darkness until she crumpled in a daze.

"Ah'm gonna give you the whoopin' yer moma should'a given you, you nasty bitch!" Applejack was a golden streak of vengeance shooting out from the darkness like a bat out of hell. Spitfire scrambled to get to her hooves, but the berserking apple farmer was on her. She buffeted her head left to right with a rapid succession of hard jabs and crosses before throwing her body into a powerful hay maker that connected with the front of the Captain's muzzle. The force sent the Wonderbolt reeling back again."

Spitfire managed to sprawl to maintain her balance. Blood was now flowing from her nose like a broken nozzle. "Bitch!" She screamed in implacable fury as she charged forward, her teeth bared like a rabid badger.

"Captain, wait!" Fleetfoot charged in and managed to tackle Spitfire to the ground. "Captain, calm down!"

"Let me go!"

"Let her go!" Applejack urged her. "Ah wanna knock her pretty, preening ass down again!"

"You're gonna die, you inbred bitch!" Spitfire thrashed and roared a filthy slew of expletives, slurs, threats, insults, and oaths as she fought to free herself of Fleetfoot's grasp.

"Spitfire!" Fleetfoot took an elbow from her flailing captain in her attempt to restrain her. "Princess!" She shouted before taking another. "Princess Twilight!"

Those two words seemed to take the fight out of her. Her eye swelling, her nose bloody, her mane tussled, she ceased her flailing and beheld the Princess of friendship falling in beside Applejack's company. Spitfire scrambled to her hooves and prostrated herself. "P-princess!"

Twilight Sparkle looked at her incredulously. "I wouldn't believe the things you've said this night if I hadn't heard them with my own ears."

Soarin's eyes were like two wide saucers. Spitfire. She bleeds. Someone actually hit her. There was something about the thought that brought him a strange comfort; Spitfire was mortal; she can be hurt. She can bleed...

"Princess," Spitfire's voice trembled, "there is a history here that you know nothing about. I implore you to--

"I've nothing to say to you." Twilight Sparkle looked on her with eyes that were deadly serious.

"And if the next thing that comes outta yer mouth ain't an apology for Soarin, Ah'm gonna whale on you again!" Applejack added.

Spitfire's eyes betrayed her outrage. It was restrained, but it was outrage all the same.

"Do it," Twilight said. "Then you may be dismissed."

"You... You can't be serio-

Applejack cuffed her on the ear with a quick right hook. "What did Ah tell you!"

The princess's horn illuminated. "Applejack, enough!" A glowing aura of restraint shimmered around Applejack's leg.

"Let me go, Twi!"

"Do you promise not to hit her again if I do?"

"No!"

"Then I'm not letting you go." Twilight looked again at Spitfire. "I'm sorry about that. She really doesn't seem to like you." Her eyes narrowed. "I'm inclined to feel the same way if I don't hear that apology."

Spitfire looked back at Soarin with an unfathomable amount of hatred in her eyes. She took a breath, smiled a patronizing smile, and said, "I'm ever so sorry, Soarin. Could you find it in your heart to forgive me?"

Soarin frowned at the obviously disingenuous remark.

"Ah didn't believe that one bit!" Applejack reached out with her free hoof and struck her again.

"Applejack!" Twilight froze her entire body. "Enough is enough."

"Ah, come on Twi, she had that one comin'!"

The princess gave the captain a look that cautioned at her dwindling patience. "Let's try that one more time, shall we?"

"An' if it ain't the most sincerest damn thing Ah ever heard in mah life, Ah'm gonna put you in a body cast!" rang Applejack's hollow threat as she struggled against her magical constraints. For all the fruit her efforts bared, she may as well have been encased in stone.

Spitfire bit down so hard on her lip that it began to bleed. Either that, or it was blood from the blunt force trauma Applejack had inflicted. Soarin couldn't be sure. The captain turned to face him and, after a long silence, she managed to force out one word that he never thought he'd ever hear from her. "Sorry."

Soarin gave her a blank look. You're forgiven? It's okay? I'm sorry, too? What was he supposed to say? None of those things would have been the truth. Soarin could only look at her and say, "I know you are."

The captain shook with silent fury before turning to the Princess and grunting a request of excusal through a row of clinched teeth.

Twilight stepped aside and levitated her hot tempered friend, still magically paralyzed, out of the way. "Fly safely."

Spitfire stomped her way out of the barn with a smirking Fleetfoot following closely. Wave Chill and Soarin looked at each other for a while. No words were exchanged. Waves, after a while, nodded, turned, and dragged himself along toward the exit. Applejack glared at him, while Twilight Sparkle looked at him as if she wanted to say something, but wasn't quite sure what it should be. Just before he left, he turned back to Soarin, reached into his coat, and produced a small rectangular device. There was a determined look on his face as he clicked it, and out rang Spitfire's voice.

"Although... I have to admit, there is a small part of me that's enjoying this - seeing you receive your long overdue comeuppance."

Wave Chill, without making his intentions clear, slipped the device back into his coat, turned, and took toward the sky.

---

"So, you were listening in the entire time?" Soarin asked as he strode along between Applejack and Twilight Sparkle through the orchard. The night was still young, and the recent events and revelations had left him with a need to clear his head. The two mares in his company were nothing if not eager to join him.

"We arrived around the time when that friend of yours started spilling his guts out to you," Twilight Sparkle explained.

Soarin kept his eyes forward while he digested the information. "How did you know where I was?"

"Twi noticed you taking off suddenly," Applejack replied. "She took to the sky after you, and took note of which way you was flyin'. It was a pretty simple guess as to where you was headin'."

"And so you two decided to chase after me," Soarin concluded.

Applejack stepped in front of him. "What, you thought Ah was just gonna let you shut me out again?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do." It was all Soarin had to offer, emotionally drained as he was.

"You could'a let me in, you idiot! You could'a shown me the note. You could'a let me come with you."

"I... I wanted to."

"Well, then why didn't you?"

"I was afraid, okay? We were having such a good night together. I didn't want it to be ruined by... By allowing you to see the way Spitfire treated me. I've never had the courage to stand up to her. I thought that if you saw what a coward I was, you..."

Soarin's words abandoned him when Applejack caressed him tenderly on the cheek. Her smile glowed with sincerity as she said, "You thought Ah'd change the way Ah felt about you? Darlin', Ah don't think that's too likely to happen."

Soarin was astonished. "You're just going to forgive me that easily?"

"Fascinating," Twilight Sparkle broke in. "I never thought that a Wonderbolt could suffer from such a lack of self confidence. I'm no doctor, but I've read a few psychology books on the subject. Issues such as yours commonly stem from a lack of parental encouragement at a young age. They can also be triggered by traumatic eve..." She fell silent when she realized that the looks she was receiving from her two companions were not those of interest. "You know what?" she said with an awkward smile. "I just remembered that I promised Rarity I'd be a judge for her fashion show. It should be starting any minute now." The Alicorn gave Applejack a look as she spread her wings. 'You got this?' her eyes seemed to say, to which Applejack replied with a smile that seemed to say, 'yup.' The princess nodded down at her just as the moon was silhouetting her image, and then she was off, her wings beating audibly through the air as she made her way back to town.

The two walked for a long time without talking. Applejack smiled at him, but Soarin pretended not to notice it. Why does she look so happy? he thought. She should be furious. All I've been doing lately is screwing up. "You're really not angry?" he finally said, half afraid of what the answer might be.

"Oh, Ah'm angry, alright!"

Soarin braced himself for a scathing lecture. He would have been lying to himself if he thought he didn't have it coming.

"Ah'm angry at that mangy, good-fer-nothin' captain o' yers. That friend o' yers, too, the jerks! Where do they get off treating you like that?"

She's not mad at me. A relieved smile began to tug at Soarin's lips. "I still can't believe you did that. Nopony so much as even talks back to Spitfire, let alone hits her... Or beats the crap out of her."

"Well, Ah ain't got no regrets for what Ah done. She should be thanking Celestia that Twilight was there to stop me from completely rearranging that pretty little face o' hers." Applejack then leaned against him and said, "No one talks to mah Soarin like that."

The intimate contact left Soarin red-faced. "'Your' Soarin?"

"That's right. Mah. Soarin. You got a problem with that, cowboy?" Applejack suddenly grabbed his hoof and pulled him in the direction of well-beaten path that branched off from the one they had been walking. "Now come here, Ah wanna show you somethin'."

"Uh... Applejack?" Soarin said, as he attempted to keep up with her loping strides, "where are you taking me?" He noticed the vegetation around him thickening. The trickling sound of a creek or perhaps a brook was coming into earshot.

Applejack's eyes reflected the playful, mischievous look of one with a plan as she led him up a grassy rise. "Ah been wantin' to show you this for a while now. It's just up this way."

Soarin and his date eventually made it to the top of a hill that overlooked the farm in all its nocturnal glory. The sound of cicadas and frogs filled the orchards behind them, whilst hundreds of fireflies pulsed like little golden beacons in the night air. Looking out farther, Soarin was able to see the festival lights of Ponyville. At night, the small town's lamplit streets seemed to provide it with a glow. The town was not bright or lively like the neon lit metropolitans he had been accustomed to. This kind of glow was much softer, warmer, more intimate. Much like a hearth, it was rustic, yet it possessed a simplicity that emanated with warmth and comfort.

"Ah just wanted to show you this." Applejack took Soarin's hoof and tempted him with that shy little smile of hers, her cheeks flushing crimson around those cute little freckles. "Ain't the view beautiful?"

Soarin thought, then shrugged. "No, not really." Applejack was giving him a look just before he pulled her into the view. "Now it is," he smiled cleverly.

"Oh, cowboy," Applejack cooed as she pulled Soarin into a hug. "Yer just too much, you know that?"

Soarin returned the embrace. He took a moment to enjoy the steady rustling of the orchard behind him and said, "So, this is it, then? You and me?"

Applejack looked up at him. "Do you... Do you want this? You and me, Ah mean?"

"I can't believe you have to ask that." Soarin looked around. He looked down on the farm. He took in the sweet autumn scent the wind carried. He peered out at that little town below the clouds. He then looked down at her, into those bright, beautiful emeralds. This was his home now. Soarin had a place to call home.

Applejack cupped his face in her hooves. "You know, this is where Granny first kissed pawpaw. Right up here, in this very spot."

She refers to her grandfather as 'pawpaw?' That's just too cute. Soarin rested his hooves on her shoulders. "Who am I to go against tradition?"

Applejack spared him one last smile before she closed her eyes and waited for him. Her freckles were bleached white under the redness of her blushing face. "Can you even comprehend how beautiful you are?" Soarin said under his breath, his heart melting. He must have kissed over a thousand mares in his lifetime, but as far as Soarin was concerned, this was going to be the first kiss of the rest of his life. He intended for it to be slow and sweet. He wanted to enjoy their first kiss as if it was a fine wine.

The first thing he did was pull her in closer. He then placed his hoof gently under her chin and guided her muzzle upward. Applejack quivered slightly, her neck yielding as much give as an over tightened bowstring. This is her first time, Soarin realized. He brought his lips in just close enough so that they would brush her ear and he whispered, "Just relax and let me lead, alright? Just like when we were dancing."

Applejack shivered from the contact. "Dancing," she stammered. "Okay."

Soarin could feel her body loosening in his arms. "Alright, just like that." Soarin closed his eyes and lowered his head. Her lips felt warm against his when they finally kissed. He entertained the thought of gratifying her with a light moan, but that hardly seemed like proper etiquette for a first timer, especially with one so sweet and innocent as his Applejack.

The two stood atop that hill and kissed until their lips chapped. They held and caressed each other until their lips properly remoistened, and they kissed again. The moon was at a higher position in the sky by the time they stopped, and yet they still weren't completely done with each other. The happy couple walked back to the house, with Applejack's arms firmly cinched around Soarin's. They had arrived at the doorstep, and it was there where sweet words and more kisses were exchanged. After they had finally managed to break away form each other, Applejack opened the front door and said, "Well, ah'd invite ya in, but, ya know." Applejack gestured toward one of the second story windows, from where the prying eyes of the Apples were peering down at them. They disappeared the instant Soarin's gaze met with theirs.

"They're not always going to be like that, are they?" he asked.

"Ah'm sure they'll go back to minding their own business." Applejack sighed as she added, "Eventually."

"A nosy family comes with the territory," Soarin shrugged "See you at breakfast, then?"

"Perhaps." Applejack gave him a wink and whispered under her breath, "But, Ah just might wake up a little early so Ah can come bring you some dessert."

Soarin blinked at her. "Damn girl, you just go from zero to sixty, don't you?"

Applejack stroked her mane awkwardly and offered, "Uh, sorry 'bout that. Ah'm new to this whole flirting thing."

"Not bad for a beginner," critiqued Soarin.

The brief stroll across the pasture was a pleasant one, though Soarin wished more than anything that he was bringing Applejack back to the barn with him. He breathed in the country air and surveyed the surroundings of his new home with renewed appreciation. All the crap that used to bother him was already feeling like a distant memory. He placed his hoof upon the door of his barn, and looked back at the house one last time. Applejack was standing in the window of her bedroom, watching him, smiling down at him. When she noticed Soarin looking back at her she blew him a kiss, which Soarin caught with his hoof, and he playfully placed it over his lips. Applejack giggled and waved goodnight before she closed the window and drew the curtains.

Soarin kneaded around the old stack of hay in search for a comfortable place to lay. He would need to remember to go shopping for himself now that he had decided his living arrangement was permanent. It certainly wouldn't hurt to break in that new checkbook of his and buy a new bed, not to mention a few other choice comforts for his abode. Perhaps he could find a new hobby to invest in while he was at it.

When he finally found a sweet spot he could lay in comfortably, he curled up with his blanket and blew out his lantern. He had all the money he could ever need to fill his life with material crap later. For now, he was in love, he had a family, and he was happy. Those were the three most important things in his life, things that money just couldn't buy.

Comments

[Fusion Blaster]

So how many times are we going to get this chapter

I mean I really like this fic but this is like the fourth or fifth time I thought we were going to see what happens next and then I start reading and it is another damn rewrite.

[Corwyn]

Spitfire really goes to considerable effort to influence how Soarin' thinks of her, given her alleged indifference to his opinions.

[Agent-G]

Okay I'm a bit pisses at you for not actually putting out a new chapter but just deleting the old one (which nothing was wrong with the old one) and posting a re-write that only had a different ending. The very least you could have done was put in an author's note at the top explaining that because I had to skim through to find whatever was new and personally I felt the last chapter was better.

[EchoWolf31]

Okay, no offense, but this is like the third time you've rewritten this chapter and it's starting to get annoying. The rewrites aren't even that different from each other either.

[Boomstick Mick]

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I figured I would get some backlash for doing things this way. This is the last time I'm rewriting this chapter, now that I finally have it the way I like it. The new chapter is actually almost done, so that's gonna be a thing, I suppose. Even if you are mad at me, thanks for reading, and stay classy.

[Avogadro]

I just binge read your story from the start and am very pleased.

[Snow123]

As everybody before has said:

Too much rewrite, not enough actual continuation of story.

[HB_DS2013]

Fleetfoot, you literal jackass.

[djthomp]

Man, that punch from AJ was so cathartic to read. It's been a long time coming.

"Let me go, Twi!"

"Do you promise not to hit her again if I do?"

"No!"

Edit: Apparently I was behind and missed the rewrites, I hope this version is the one that sticks.

[Fusion Blaster]

8188227
Angry, no.
Annoyed, a little.

Glad to hear we're finally moving on though.

[Captain Unstoppable]

Loved this chapter. Some of your best work! Can't wait to see more!

[Radical Gopher]

Deja Vu anyone?

[Gothicfox]

I like this version. Keep up the good work.

[Iamsorry]

ok a tiny bit disapointed
but i loved seeing spitfire getting what she deserved~
damn Applebloom and her blocking.

[Venlin]

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[Rokas]

8196263 Incoming Torpedobeats!