Chapter 3
Spitfire’s eyes shot open as her stomach lurched, staring at the ceiling of her hotel room. Rolling over, she felt hooves slide off of her as she placed hers on the floor, grunting as a wave of nausea washed over her. Her cheeks flared as something warm shoved its way up her throat. Reaching for the nearest container, she shoved her head in and heaved as the most disgusting mixture of bile and liquor came pouring out.
“Blegh!” she mumbled, squeezing her eyes shut as her head gave a mighty throb. She was given a few seconds respite before the next round of stomach rejects came, forcing her to hack as little bits of spittle dribbled down her chin. Wiping her face, Spitfire set the bin down and blinked as she licked her teeth, feeling their coarse texture. Glancing behind, she heard somepony grunt and she flicked her ear. Shrugging, she pushed herself up and—forcing herself to concentrate through the throbbing headache—she stumbled over to the bathroom and shut the door, ignoring her sore rump.
A hiss escaped her once the lights came on and she covered her eyes with her foreleg. Peeking from underneath it, she trotted over to the shower and turned the faucet on. A calming steam began to fill the room and she sighed, allowing the vapors to ease the headache. Once the throbbing calmed, she switched the shower on and prepared to step in when the door creaked open. Rolling her eyes, Spitfire turned to the door and growled, “You have ten seconds to leave before—”
She froze as a groggy Soarin blinked at her her, still half asleep. The two stared at each other for a few seconds before Soarin yawned and winced. “Hey, uh… whoever you are. Jeez, that was fun last ni—”
Spitfire’s eyes shrunk in unison with him as he finally recognized her.
A piercing scream tore the silence apart as Spitfire nearly threw herself in the shower, yanking the curtain to cover herself.
With his mind already spinning, Soarin tripped over himself and fell flat on the carpet as his headache throbbed repeatedly. Scrambling back, Soarin ran to the bed and tripped over the comforter sprawled across the floor.
“Close the bucking door!” Spitfire wailed, her voice screeching in his ears.
Soarin ran back to the door and paused as a yellow hoof grabbed the handle at the same time. Spinning his head to the right, he locked eyes with Spitfire. Her mane was wet and flat against her head while her eyes were still tiny. Her cheeks flushed as she screamed again and shoved him back. He yelped as he tumbled back into the closet and the door shut with a resounding thud.
Rubbing his temples, Soarin moaned as he curled up into a ball, forcing himself to not let his stomach loose all over the floor. Pounding a hoof into the carpet, he pushed himself up and staggered to the door.
“Oh no,” he grumbled. “Oh buck no.”
Once he was out of Spitfire’s room, he trudged down the hallway, glancing at the numbers. “Dewdrops is going to kill me.”
Soarin pounded his head against the door, mentally bucking himself. The edge of a piece of paper bounced against the top of his head.
“Stupid. Stupid. Stupid,” he repeated.
Looking back up, he read the note once more and cringed when he got to the part where he puked on Dewdrops. To say the note was scathing was an understatement. He had seen Dewdrops mad before, but he could only shudder at what she would be like to call him names like ‘pea brained doofhoof’ and ‘feathered flocker’ and ‘tree-headed porter’.
He scrunched up his nose at that last name.
Sighing, he tapped a hoof on the door and waited. Seconds slipped into minutes as he stared at the note, his chest writhing with dread and potential vomit. After a few more minutes had passed, he tapped once more and sighed before turning back to the hallway.
Soarin tapped on Spitfire’s door, expecting to be ignored again when the latch clicked and she peeked around the corner. “Soarin? You’re back!” she said, the surprise evident in her voice.
He nodded and looked back at his hooves. “Can I come in? My room is locked and judging by the note she left about me puking on her, Dewdrops is pretty mad at me.”
Spitfire nodded. “Not as mad as she’s gonna be,” she mumbled.
She swung the door open as she stepped aside. Her fluffy bathrobe tickled as he walked by, beelining for the beds. He placed his rump on the edge as the door shut and Spitfire trotted over. A tense silence hung in the air between them as Soarin stared at the floor.
“So, Dewdrop’s really upset, huh?”
Soarin nodded and gulped. “You got a trashcan?”
A plastic bucket rolled to Soarin’s hoof and pulled it up. Once it was close enough to his face, he let the vomit escape into the bucket, heaving twice before wiping his lip. He set the bucket on the floor and looked up at Spitfire. “Yeah, she kicked me out of my room,” he mumbled.
Spitfire grimaced and said, “So just get another one.”
Soarin shook his head. “It’s not that simple, Spits.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And why not?”
“Because she’s the one who arranges the rooms.”
Spitfire groaned and rolled her eyes. “Look, Soarin. You’re my best friend and I know you’re well known enough to get another room. Just stop moping about Dewdrops. She’ll get over it.”
Soarin shook his head weakly. “Not after she finds out about this.”
He looked up at her and she shifted on her hooves, glancing at the floor. Another tense silence followed until she looked back at him. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Spits, we—”
“Yes, I’m well aware we did! Do you think you were the only one who noticed?”
She snorted and looked back at the floor, her cheeks turning red again. Her nose scrunched up as she looked back at him while he started to pace back and forth.
“Oh horsefeathers, what is Dewdrops going to say? She’ll be so mad, she might not stay with me!” He paused his pacing and looked at Spitfire, his bottom lip quivering. Her eyebrow arched and he blinked.
“What?” he asked.
“Well?” she replied.
“Well what? Dewdrops is so going to—”
“What do you remember?”
Soarin froze and shook his head. “That’s a little beside the point, isn’t it? I just cheated on my marefriend!”
Spitfire shrugged. “No, it isn’t. Now tell me what you remember of last night.”
He ran a hoof through his mane. “Spits, this isn’t the best time to ask me—”
“Admitting is the first step to recovery. What do you remember from last night?”
Soarin squeezed his eyes shut. “I remember drinking a lot, then… uh…”
“We made out,” she said.
Soarin grimaced. “Yeah.”
“And then?”
“And then… I was laying on the bed and you, er…”
More silence followed as Spitfire stared at Soarin, making him shift uncomfortably. “What? What do you want me to say?” he burst out.
Spitfire rolled her eyes once again. “Was it good?”
It was Soarin’s turn to blush as he locked eyes with her. “I, uh, I… erm—I don’t really… remember.”
Spitfire snorted. “Well, I do.”
Soarin closed his eyes as he braced for the worst insults possible.
“And it felt right.”
Soarin’s eyes shot open as he looked back at Spitfire. His jaw hung open as he tried to process what she said before Spitfire giggled. “Yeah, you were really good last night,” she said, cracking a smile.
“I was?” he asked, dumbfounded.
“Sure, for drunk sex, it was messy and you drooled all over me, but you were so into it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like that,” Spitfire said, walking over to Soarin.
“M-Messy?” he asked, his voice squeaky.
Spitfire nodded and grinned slyly. “Yeah, you really went to town.”
Soarin gulped hard as he looked down at the floor again and Spitfire sat next to him, her wing spreading out and rubbing his back. “You really had a thing for my wings, too.”
“Okay, please stop before I—” Soarin began before belching.
Spitfire shoved the bucket back to him and Soarin closed his eyes for a few seconds before nodding. “You alright?”
Soarin shook his head. “No. Never been hungover like this before.”
Spitfire sucked her teeth. “Dewdrops had you on a real short leash, huh?”
Soarin grimaced. “She wouldn’t let me even drink hard cider.”
Spitfire leaned in and placed her chin on his shoulder. “You know,” she began slowly. “I could get used to this.”
Soarin glanced over at her. “Get used to what?”
“This,” Spitfire said, gesturing with her hoof. “Waking up hungover, feeling good from last night.”
Soarin shifted again. “Spits, I don’t think—”
“Besides, didn’t we bet you had to break up with Dewdrops anyway?”
Soarin’s voice caught as he turned to her, noting her smirk.
“Why not have a little fun on your break? I know you’ve thought about bucking me more than once.”
“You can’t believe I was serious about that bet?”
Silence ensued as they stared at each other before Soarin stood up. “I need a shower,” he said.
Spitfire smiled wider as he trotted to the bathroom. “Think about it!” she called.
Soarin pressed his head against the wall as the hot water rained down on him, soothing his aching muscles and clearing his head. Somehow, the shower was freeing up more memories from last night, allowing him to recall how soft Spitfire’s hooves and body was, especially her wings. Sensations washed over his body as he reacted to the echoes of her moans and grunts in his head.
He shook his head, spraying water around the shower before cringing. “Spitfire’s my best friend,” he mumbled.
He had known her since they were in flight camp together, struggling to keep herself balanced in the air. They had been through the hells of school, first crushes and the trials of becoming Wonderbolts. She had always been by his side and was like a sister to him.
But she was right.
Ever since junior high school, he had noticed Spitfire was a mare. She was pretty, fit and sexy when she wanted to be. His other friends often teased him about her, asking when he was going to stallion up and claim her, despite him protesting about how weird it would be to date her.
Looking back at the curtain, he thought about what she had said. She liked the way he acted when he was drunk and said he performed pretty well. When he woke, he could only smile about how good he felt until the headache hit. Now with his memory starting to return, the obvious answer became more hazy as he ended turned the water off.
Spitfire stood in front of the mirror, grooming her mane as her tail swished about, whipping the remaining water from her. She hummed to herself as the brush worked its way through, leaving the familiar fiery points she was known for. Grinning, she set the brush down and sat, spreading her wings. She leaned to her right and began to nibble at her feathers, her thoughts turning back to the situation she was in.
Seeing Soarin that upset didn’t help her own nerves, despite her acting otherwise. As his friend, she really needed to respect that he was in a relationship, no matter how much she hated the pony he was with. It wasn’t her and more than likely never be her, which was just fine, but Soarin was a grown stallion and liked who he liked.
She sighed as a feather fell to the floor, using her teeth to maneuver the others to cover the empty space. In all her time with him, she never once thought of him as anything other than just a friend, but last night changed something. When she was in the shower earlier, a small portion of her wanted to just run up and apologize to him. His hurt face stuck in her mind now, reminding her that she just might have ruined her best friend’s life permanently.
The bitter voice in the back of her mind, though, told her otherwise. Soarin deserved better than Dewdrops. She was a selfish nincompoop who cared more about her career than him, which only made things worse. There was no doubt she’d punish him for this somehow, thinking she needed to break him some more. Soarin was so much fun to be around before she came along. He was loud, strong and had a smile that always warmed her cheeks.
She knew he didn’t need that kind of mare pushing him around.
Pausing in her preening, Spitfire glanced up to see Soarin stood at the bathroom doorway, staring at her with a towel wrapped around his rear. He gulped and trotted over to her as she lifted her mouth from her wing. When he stopped, he looked at the floor again as she raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”
Soarin sighed.
“Look, Spitfire,” he began. “I can’t do anything like this. I’m already committed to Dewdrops, even if she is mad at me. I’m sorry about last night, but I just… I can’t agree to something like this. You’re my best friend, not just some buck-buddy.”
Spitfire’s eyebrows raised further. “Soarin, are you friendzoning me?”
Soarin’s voice caught again as his pupils shrunk. “No, I’m not! I just don’t think it’s a good idea!”
Spitfire’s eyebrows came down as she stared at him with an unimpressed look.
“Stop it,” Soarin said. “We’re not a thing. We’re friends, without benefits.”
They stared at each other again for a few seconds before Spitfire sighed and looked over her wing. Nibbling at a loose feather, she glanced back up at him and said, “So what do we say if anypony asks?”
Soarin scratched his head. “Well, it’s obvious we were drunk and I don’t have my room key.”
“So you stayed with me last night until you sobered up,” she finished. “Nothing happened. I slept on the bed and you slept on the floor.”
Soarin nodded, a smile returning to his face. “Thank you, Spits.”
His turned and trotted back to the bathroom, glancing back to see Spitfire nudge her feathers around. He stared a bit too long, however, as Spitfire looked at him and raised her eyebrows. Soarin smiled once more and closed the door. Once inside, Soarin sighed heavily as he pulled the towel off his flanks and peeked at his underside.
“Traitor,” he muttered before looking at himself in the mirror.
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6269712
I hear ya.
Fixed. With Duct Tape and WD-40.
Spitfire wants second courses and more.
“Traitor,” he muttered before looking at himself in the mirror.
Major Johnson, what in the hell do you think you're doing?!
They walk around naked normally, why does this matter? She already is being covered by the curtain.
Wonder what city they are in, probably not Cloudsdale since I assume they might own houses there.
A plastic bucket pulled what up? The subject in this sentence is the plastic bucket.
Looks like you were looking for two different ways to end the sentence.
"would"
Why permanently? I am sure cheating on a girlfriend isn't near as bad as if they were married. She was also a controlling bitch that seemed to be using him more as a status symbol.
"standing"
Yeeesssssss, fall for the yellow beauty that is Spitfire.
Traitorous dick!
...
Wait...
6268103
Appreciate the follow, ya stalker
I imagine the end of this fic be a few years later (epilogue), with Spitfire like this
derpicdn.net/img/2013/10/6/442833/large.png
6270240
Nah, dicks can't be traitorous. They know what you want better than you do!
Ahhhhh yeeeeee.
Soarin will eventually see the light... and by light I mean Spitfire's beautiful self.
Nice job! :D
The new chapter is perfect, exactly where I wanted this to go.
I kind of feel like I know how this is going to end, but I still want to see it play out nonetheless. Secrets, they have a way of unearthing themselves sometimes.
6270642 HHHHAH!
Ah finally a SoarinFire story that's sticking around on the front page!
Though we're only three chapters in, I'm glad to see that the story doesn't seem to be entirely driven by sex. There is an actual plot here. Also glad to see that Soarin's personality isn't a complete pushover/idiot/wimp (not speaking to his relationship with Dewdrop) like so many authors seem to latch on to. My only concern is that the story needs to establish the more emotional romance part. Spitfire stated pretty candidly that she wouldn't mind a relationship strictly around sex, but I'm hoping that it will develop more into a meaningful revelation between the two if they come to discover how deeply they care for one another. Otherwise, it kinda takes the wind out of the sails if you get my drift. Case in point:
Spitfire's reaction here seems to suggest that she is in disbelief about what had occurred, as if it was never within the realm of possibility, but then:
Here she seems to be of the opposite opinion. Perhaps it was just surprise before. However, there still is the concern about how casually she is suggesting a purely sexual relationship, when they have had only a close friendship develop over the years and have never found themselves in this situation before. I guess I would be expecting a more serious reaction from Spitfire where she would be mulling over how she actually feels towards Soarin', if she has genuine feelings for him that manifested the previous night.
Sorry about the wall of text. I'm not about to drop the story or anything; there are very few SoarinFire stories (which baffles me) and even fewer that are well written. This is one of them. Looking forward to more.
I call it now - it's only a matter of time until Soarin gets plain sick of Dewdrops and breaks it off permanently.
Until then... poor Spits. She and him both know that they belong together (at least in this story). It's not going to be easy.
Still can't wait for more!
To summarize the story so far:
Ch1- Hey, hey, I don't like your girlfriend
Ch2- No way, no way, I think you need a new one
Ch3- Hey, hey, I could be your girlfriend
6278546 it's the best way to put this story so far. You sir are a genius.
As to the author great story love how Soarin going to "commit" to dewdrop but I feel like spits is more of his type.
WHY IS THIS NOT FEATURED!?
6279786
It was. For about four days.
6278546
cdn2-www.afterellen.com/assets/uploads/2015/03/53a0c553acbf3_-_godfather.gif
6279854 Why is it still not!? This is some saucy well written goodness that every teenager fucking loves!
6278748 6279854
