Worst Patient Ever

by Timaeus

16. Discharged and Admitted

Spitfire stood in the middle of her hospital room at Ponyville General for the last time. The feathers on her good wing fluffed and spread, bristling in anticipation. She stood at the window, basking in the warm light of the sun that spilled over her muzzle and down her neck. Idly, she scratched at her shoulder where the hem of her hospital gown met her exposed fur. Oh, how she longed to feel fresh and open air, the sun, and the feel of another’s coat over her own.

Patience, her mother would say. Patience, and behave yourself.

Patience. She had been patient for so long. Well, mostly patient. Perhaps patient enough. Now, so close to the freedom she had been promised for weeks, she was ready to do away with patience and behaviour.

Her eyes flicked over to where Nurse Tenderheart stood, taking one last look through her chart before she would be cleared for discharge. Only a minute or so more, but a minute she didn’t want to wait through. Her mare was waiting for her. Soon, this hospital gown, the last barrier waiting to fall, would be no more. Yet, as with any performance, it was always the last few minutes before the curtains rose—or in this case, dropped—that were the longest.

And, like with every major performance, the last few minutes were always the most unbearable. She was intimately familiar with the slow churning of her insides after so many shows. Her tail flicked, twitching back and forth as she stared out over the rolling apple orchard of Sweet Apple Acres. Branches swayed in the gentle breeze, and Spitfire breathed in deeply, willing the ruffling of her feathers to steady.

Just like before every big show, her nerves rallied. Any one of a hundred of things could go wrong, and more often than not, they did. A crowd of hundreds would be waiting and watching—hundreds of pairs of eyes there to witness any mistakes.

Only now, instead of hundreds, there was an audience of one waiting. An audience of one waiting to embrace her with open hooves. An audience of one who wasn’t waiting, watching for Captain Spitfire of the Wonderbolts to fail.

No, she was waiting for Spitfire the pony. And when Spitfire walked out of her hospital room for the last time, she wouldn’t be walking to Nurse Redheart, she’d be walking to Redheart the pony.

Letting her eyes drift closed, Spitfire felt a slow smile spread her lips. Redheart. Her Redheart. Warmth not from the sun spread throughout her body, easing the twitching of her tail and the rustling of her wings as it swelled from her chest to the tips of her hooves.

Nurse Tenderheart hummed to herself as she tapped on her clipboard in time with the beat. It was a simple, catchy, and bright little tune that wormed its way into one’s head and sat there for hours on end, playing its little infuriating song. It was also, Spitfire had learned, one of the nurse’s favourites, one that ended up stuck in her head time and time again.

Tail bobbing along with the infuriating little melody, Spitfire’s ear flicked when Nurse Tenderheart fell silent. The nurse’s pen clicked and she heard the rustling of paper. She glanced over her shoulder and arched her brow. “All done?”

“Yes, I think so.” A bright, cheery smile split Nurse Tenderheart’s cornflower-blue muzzle as she set her clipboard down on Spitfire’s bed. “Are you ready to get out of that gown?”

Spitfire’s smile quirked into a familiar, Wonderbolt-approved smirk. It pulled back over her teeth as she trotted to her bedside and unfurled her uninjured wing. “Oh, you have no idea. Even I can’t make this thing look good.”

A light, chime of a giggle bubbled from Nurse Tenderheart’s throat. “Oh, Spitfire, you’re too modest. You managed to catch somepony’s eye in that gown.” The singsong quality to her voice was unmistakable as she walked around to Spitfire’s side. “Quite effectively, I might add.”

“Oh yeah?” The snicker she gave shook loose a butterfly or two from the kaleidoscope nested in her chest. She licked her lips, holding still as she felt Nurse Tenderheart reach for the drawstring that secured her hospital gown around her shoulders. The tip of her tail flicked, brushing against the bedframe as she found her gaze focused on the linoleum tiled floor. “So, uh, is she excited to see me? Y’know, now that I’m finally getting out of here.”

“Very. She was pacing the nurse’s station when I came in here. I can’t recall ever seeing her this way.” As she spoke, Nurse Tenderheart’s voice softened. The light, amused tone faded as it warmed into something more comforting. “She’s had this big, goofy smile on her face at lunch for the last few days now. Trust me, she’s entirely taken with you.”

Spitfire’s hoof scuffed over the smooth, wax furnished floor. Her smirk shrank into something smaller as the hospital gown loosened around her shoulders. “Really?”

Nurse Tenderheart chuckled and shook her head. “The only reason I’m in here instead of her,” she said as she guided the hospital gown up Spitfire’s frame, around her cast, and over her head, “is that we didn’t want to risk her getting carried away so close to your discharge.”

Spitfire snorted and ran a hoof through her mane. “I bet she must’ve loved that conversation.”

Another chime-like giggle sounded from Nurse Tenderheart as she set the hospital gown over the bed. A twinkle of amusement shone in her eyes as she busied herself with folding the gown. “Well, she never denied it.”

Both of Spitfire’s ears stood on end. She felt a demure, wicked little grin sharpen over her lips as she tail swished behind her. “That a fact, huh?” A low hum started in the back of her throat as she glanced over her shoulder at the door. Through that door lay the hospital, her freedom, and her Redheart. “Well, if she liked me so much in that gown, I can’t help but wonder what she’ll make of me out of it.”

“Just as long as you sign the discharge paperwork first.” A gentle hoof patted her withers and she turned back to meet Nurse Tenderheart’s regular warm smile. “Do that, and you’re all hers.”

“I think you mean that she’s all mine.” The feathers along Spitfire’s uninjured wing fluffed and her chest swelled, at last free of the hospital gown that clung to it over the last two weeks. She took a half-step forward, rejoicing in the feeling of fresh air against her coat as she stretched out each muscle of her forelegs and swished her tail of wildfire from side to side. “Come on, Tend, Red doesn’t stand a chance.”

With a giggle and shake of her head, Nurse Tenderheart walked around Spitfire to the hospital room door. “You poor, sweet, naive thing. We’ll just have to see.” She turned around, one hoof rested on the doorknob, and offered a smile equal parts amused and warm. “Save that little show for Redheart and you might even have a chance!”

“Just you wait,” Spitfire said as she trotted to the door. “She’s going to be putty in my hooves.”

“You keep telling yourself that. My bits are on Redheart.”

The door opened and the sounds of the hospital spilled into the little room. The constant murmur of a dozen different conversations happening at once rolled up and down the hallways. The gentle beeping of heart monitors in other rooms punctuated the murmur as the cadence of hooves against linoleum and the squeak of stretcher wheels completed the everyday symphony of Ponyville General.

No more waiting. The time was now.

Feathers fluffed, Spitfire walked out of her room for the last time. “Hey, Tend,” she said halfway through the doorway. Glancing back, she offered Nurse Tenderheart a small, soft, and warm smile. It was hardly a fair exchange for all of the ones she’d gotten as the days rolled by, but perhaps it was better than nothing at all. “Thanks for everything. I don’t think I ever said that, but it means a lot.”

“Keep on making Redheart smile like she has been over the last couple days, and you can consider us even, Spitfire.” With one last smile, Nurse Tenderheart jerked her head to the side. “Now go on. She’s waiting for you and likely driven herself halfway up the wall by now.”

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am.” Snapping a salute with her wing, Spitfire walked the rest of the way out of her room and into Ponyville Genera proper. The door clicked shut behind her and, without the itching, restricting feeling of her hospital gown wrapped around her frame, took her first steps towards the nurse’s station.

“Make her smile, huh?” A gentle rousing of her feathers accompanied the softness of the smile she felt touch her lips. “Yeah, I think I can do that.”

The walk to the nurse’s station was a brisk one, punctuated by the occasional nod to familiar doctors, nurses, and patients she passed in the hallway. Her legs carried her without a waver in her step. Gone was the weakness that made her tremble and quiver and lean on Redheart’s side to stay upright. Now, as her tail swished from side to side in time with the gentle sway of her hips, she walked with all of the confidence and surety she expected of her Wonderbolts. For the first time since her crash, her coat breathed and felt open air against it instead of the thin, containing fabric of her hospital gown. That small, simple freedom spread her smile a little wider over her muzzle as she rounded the corner to the nurse’s station.

Sure enough, just as Nurse Tenderheart had said, Redheart was there. She stood in the hallway, eyes trained on the chart she held in the crook of her foreleg. Her lips were drawn in a thin, neutral line and a wrinkle creased her brow as the few other ponies in the hallway passed her by. To anypony else, she might have seemed deep in thought, but Spitfire knew better.

Spitfire saw the errant flick of the tip of her tail. She saw the twitch at the corner of her lips, threatening to sour her expression with a frown. And, most of all, she saw how her eyes were fixed on a single spot on the chart she held.

Not quite halfway up the wall, but close enough.

Feathers fluffing, Spitfire let the warmth she felt in her chest flow into her smile, softening it into something smaller but no less sincere. The sound of her hooves clip-clopping against the linoleum floor was lost, drowned out by the bustling hospital around her.

Redheart didn’t so much as flick an ear until Spitfire’s shadow fell over her chart. When it did, the tip of her snout scrunched up and she lifted her head. Any semblance of a frown vanished when their eyes met, wiped away by the smile that was quick to split her lips—her oh-so-kissable lips.

Soon, very soon, there would be nothing to stop Spitfire from testing just how kissable they were. The thought sent a little shiver down to the tip of her tail. “Hey.”

For a fleeting second, Redheart’s twinkling blue eyes flickered up and down Spitfire’s frame, free from the hospital gown that hung over it in all of the time that they’d known each other. “Hey, yourself. How are you feeling?”

Spitfire breathed in, swelling her chest as she let her smile settle into an increasingly familiar small, loving little smirk. “Like I’m about to become one of the luckiest mares in Equestria.”

Redheart giggled, a sound so quiet and muffled that only Spitfire could have heard, and leaned in enough to gently nose against her cheek. “Save the sweet talk for when I can properly thank you. Now, are you ready to get out of here?”

The contact, however brief and fleeting, was enough to make Spitfire hum. “Oh, Celestia, yes. Show me the dotted line.”

“Gladly.” Redheart turned to the counter separating the nurse’s station proper from the rest of the hallway and set her clipboard down. Spitfire followed, stepping close enough for their shoulders to brush together and for her uninjured wing to feel the velvety soft texture of her nurse’s coat against her feathers. “All you need to do is sign and initial here, and then ...”

Redheart trailed off, but not without flicking her tail over Spitfire’s hind leg. Flashing a fiery, wicked little smirk to the mare at her side, Spitfire plucked a pen from the countertop. “Then I’m a free mare.”

Another chuckle rolled off of Redheart’s lips. This one, however, was much lower and rolled over Spitfire’s ears much like the velvety quality of her soon-to-be mare’s coat brushing along her shoulder. “I wouldn’t say that.” The lower, smokier sound of her voice roused another ruffling of feathers. “Once you sign that, then you’re my mare, remember?”

Spitfire’s tail flicked from side to side as a shiver shook her wingtips. Warmth spread from her chest and started the prickling crawl up her neck. “Do you have any idea how hot you are when you say stuff like that?”

“I’m sure I’d be delighted to hear all about it.” Redheart’s smile was vulpine as she tapped the clipboard with the tip of her hoof. “But only after you sign your discharge form like a good patient.”

“Oh, I have so much to tell you once this is done.” Clicking the pen against the clipboard, Spitfire offered a wink before gripping the pen between her teeth. Her eyes skimmed over the form, one she had seen and signed a dozen times before. She glossed over the words, pen scrawling out her signature at the bottom of the page. All the while, she felt Redheart watching her, encouraging that heat to creep a little further up along her neck as she scribbled out the date.

Well, it was either now or never. Clearing her throat, Spitfire dropped the pen from her mouth and lifted her head. “Hey, now that that’s filled out, there’s something I have to talk to you about. You got a minute?”

Something devious and wonderful flickered behind Redheart’s eyes, making them sparkle a bright, glittering blue. “Actually, there’s something I need to go over with you first before you’re out of here. It’s an odd bit of protocol we have here at Ponyville General.” Her hoof tapped on the clipboard again before swiping it away. “Most other hospitals have phased it out, but I have to go over a few questions with you. It should only take a few minutes.”

Spitfire wrinkled her muzzle and arched her brow in the face of Redheart’s smile. When it didn’t falter, she nodded her head. “Okay, I guess. Can we talk after that?”

“Depends,” Redheart said as she stepped away from the nurse’s station. Spitfire caught sight of her hooded gaze as she slunk past her, brushing her shoulder and trailing her down her side as she started down the hallway.

Both of Spitfire’s ears perked at the enticing view that came with each little sway of her hips and swish of her tail. The feeling of Redheart along her side was fresh in her mind, and before she knew it she was back at her mare’s side. “Depends on what?”

A short chuckle rumbled past Redheart’s lips as she led them down the hallway with her clipboard tucked under her foreleg. “On how well you behave.”

“On how well I behave?” Spitfire’s brows shot up, arching high over her brow as she bumped Redheart’s shoulder with her own. “Excuse me, but I’m not the one feeling a little frisky today.” They rounded a corner to an empty section of the hall. Stealing the opportunity for what it was, she darted in, humming deep in the back of her throat as she nuzzled into the crook of her nurse’s jaw. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

The faintest of pink kissed the over the white of Redheart’s cheeks in a way Spitfire still couldn’t. But still, the nurse returned the gesture, leaning her shoulder into the flier’s side as they came to a gradual stop at a hospital room door. “I guess I am a little excited.”

“Me too, Red.” An ever-growing softness touched Spitfire’s smile as she pulled away. Her feathers rustled, eager to spread over Redheart’s back, but she kept her wing tightly folded against her side. “So how about we get this show on the road?”

Redheart returned the smile, every bit as soft, warm, and vulnerable, and gripped the doorknob in her hoof. “Yes, let’s.” She twisted the doorknob and swung the door open. With her clipboard tucked under her foreleg, she stepped to the side and waved Spitfire in.

The room itself was identical to the one Spitfire occupied. The walls were the same shade of muted, ‘friendly’ blue, and the same sterilized white tiles lined the ceiling. A single bed sat pushed up against the wall with a pair of chairs to the side. The curtains were drawn, granting sunlight entrance as it spilled in from the one window overlooking the hospital gardens.

Spitfire arched her brow at Redheart, who only wiggled her ears in return. There was a twinkle of mischief in her eyes, one seen in too many Wonderbolts to make any Captain’s life easy. “Any reason we have to answer these questions in here, Red?”

Redheart’s smile shifted into something infinitely more wicked, and the sight of it sent the slightest of shivers down Spitfire’s neck. “There wasn’t an open examination room nearby, and these questions have to be asked in privacy.”

“Oh yeah?” Spitfire’s brow arched higher on her forehead as she walked into the empty hospital room. The murmur of a dozen conversations and noise of a bustling hospital quieted as Redheart followed, closing the door behind them. “And why’s that?”

“Hospital protocol,” Redheart said, flashing that same wicked little grin over her shoulder as she flicked the latch on the door. The pink tip of her tail flicked out from behind her haunches as she turned and joined Spitfire by the bed. “Some of these questions cover sensitive subjects that we typically don’t want other ponies to overhear.”

Eyes bouncing from the locked door to the mare at her side, Spitfire’s other brow rose. “What’s on this survey?”

Redheart giggled a light, chime-like sound that all-too-easily swept away the beginnings of a thoughtful frown from Spitfire’s lips. “Why don’t you have a seat,” she began, patting the mattress, “and you’ll find out?”

Humming in the back of her throat, Spitfire followed the outstretched hoof, along the pearly white coat of its foreleg, passed the slim, gentle curvature of the attached shoulders and neck, to its owner’s bright, burning blue eyes that had yet to cease to make her breath catch. Hardly a hoofstep separated them. If she flared her nostrils and breathed in, she might have caught the faintest trace of cinnamon that seemed to cling to Redheart’s coat.

So close. So very, very close.

“I just answer these questions,” Spitfire said, resting her hoof next to Redheart’s, “and then I’m out of here?”

“Yes.” The wickedness abated from Redheart’s smile, leaving the warmth and tenderness with which Spitfire had grown oh-so familiar. The nurse’s hoof brushed over her own, standing the fur where they touched on end. “And then we can talk about whatever you wanted to talk about.”

Allowing herself a soft grin, Spitfire twisted her hoof and clasped Redheart’s. “I thought I had to behave myself first.”

Redheart chuckled, now a deeper, throatier sound. Leaning in, her lips tickled Spitfire’s fur and her breath was hot as it washed over her ear. “I think you’ve waited long enough, don’t you?”

Alone in the privacy of the hospital room, nopony was there to see the shudder shake Spitfire’s frame—nopony except for Redheart. That thought alone brought a swish of her tail as she felt her nurse chuckle again.

Licking her lips, Spitfire nodded and climbed up onto the bed. Her tail curled around her flank as she settled on her haunches. Redheart smiled and sat up on the foot of the bed. “Okay, then let’s begin.” Paper crinkled and rustled as she turned the page over on her clipboard. The slightest of wrinkles creased her muzzle as her eyes scanned down the board. “Now, these are just a few standard questions, Spitfire. Are you ready?”

“Born ready.” The feathers along Spitfire’s uninjured wing rustled as a well-worn smirk tugged at her lips. “Fire away.”

“Alright, let’s see.” Cradling her clipboard in the crook of her foreleg, Redheart swiveled to face Spitfire. “Are you experiencing any lightheadedness or any nausea at all?”

A snort of air escaped Spitfire’s muzzle. Hooding her gaze, she watched Redheart and scooched and inch or two closer. Her smirk, however, sharpened. “Does being head-over-hooves count?”

As close as they were, it was easy for Redheart to reach out and shove Spitfire. Just as expected.

Chuckling low and deep, she let the motion rock her back and forth. Then, unfurling her wing, she leaned to the side and wrapped it in a loose, gentle embrace around Redheart’s shoulders. She fluffed her feathers over her nurse’s back, grinning at the little flick of her tail it produced. “Did you really expect to get away with all that teasing in the hallway, Red?”

Redheart’s hoof on her shoulder kept them apart. “I expected you to behave like the good little patient I know you are deep down.” With a vulpine smile, she grazed the tip of her hoof over Spitfire’s outstretched wing. “I know you’re getting impatient, but it’s only a few minutes more. Now be a good girl and answer the question properly.”

The light, feathering touch sent a tingling sensation dancing up and down the length of Spitfire’s outstretched wing. She forced her lips into a pout despite the shudder that threatened to make her wingtips quiver. “Fine, but the moment this is over I’m—”

A soft hoof on her lips silenced her. Gently, Redheart lifted Spitfire’s wing from her shoulders and met her gaze with bright, sparkling eyes. “The sooner you answer the question,” she said in a voice low and soft, “the sooner you get to act on that thought instead of wasting time speaking it.”

The faint scent of cinnamon tickled her nose, and Spitfire exhaled slowly around Redheart’s hoof. “Okay, okay,” she said, smirking as she pushed the hoof away from her mouth. “No, I’m not feeling lightheaded or nauseous. I’m actually feeling pretty great.”

Redheart smiled and nodded. She dropped her gaze down to her clipboard. “That’s good to hear. Next question. Are you experiencing any stomach pains or intestinal cramping?”

Spitfire shook her head. “Nope. All good on that front.”

The tips of Redheart’s ears wiggled as the corner of her lips poked out from behind her clipboard. “That’s a good girl. Now, have you felt any unusual heart palpitations or anything of the like lately?”

Though she rolled her eyes, Spitfire tilted her head to the side, catching Redheart’s gaze and grinning an impish little grin honed to perfection since foalhood. “None that are unexplained.”

A swish of pink caught Spitfire’s eye as Redheart’s tail flicked over the bedspread. “That was almost sweet. Next question.” Clearing her throat, she lifted her head and asked with a smile too saccharine to be sincere, “Do you have any allergies to apples or products that contain apples?”

Spitfire blinked. The smirk fell away from her face as her muzzle started to wrinkle. “Um, no?” Sitting up straighter, she arched her neck, trying to steal a glimpse at the questionnaire on the clipboard. “Why is that on there?”

Redheart snatched the clipboard away, holding it against her chest before Spitfire could look. “No idea.” Though she shrugged, her eyes glittered a bright, bedazzling blue that promised equal parts mischief and delight. “It’s just the standardized set of questions we ask everypony. Maybe it’s because of Sweet Apple Acres? It’s hard to say.”

A furrow etched itself over Spitfire’s brow as she sat back on her haunches. “Okay?”

“Here, this one might be a little more familiar. Do you drink? Alcohol, I mean.”

A chuff of air escaped Spitfire’s nostrils. Her frown fell away in favour of a dry, bemused little smile. “I’m a Wonderbolt, Red. Better yet, I’m the Captain of the Wonderbolts. Drinking comes with the job.”

The click of Redheart’s pen accompanied her nod. It scratched over the clipboard as its owner hummed. “Good. What do you usually drink? Wine, champagne, something harder?”

Again, Spitfire blinked. The furrow returned to her brow as her muzzle wrinkled again. “Uh, what?”

“Different drinks have different effects on the body while it’s healing, you see, because of the different amounts of alcohol they have.” Another flash of Redheart’s smile and the short chime of a giggle that came with it nearly wiped the furrow from Spitfire’s brow. “So, what’s your drink of choice, Captain?”

“Uh, beer or cider, I guess?” Spitfire rolled her shoulders in a shrug. Redheart’s pen scratched over the clipboard, and she felt her lips begin to purse. “Usually beer, though. Good cider’s not super easy to find in a lot of places.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re in Ponyville. Sweet Apple Acres cider is famous around here. Ponies lineup for hours waiting to get a taste.” For a moment, Redheart regarded her with a hooded gaze, one that made the pinions along Spitfire’s wing fluff. “We’ll have to share a bottle one day.”

Both of Spitfire’s ears perked up. A long, slow chuckle rumbled in her throat as she returned the look. “One day soon.”

“Once cider season is in.” Redheart broke away, dropping her eyes back to her clipboard. “Just a couple more questions left.”

“Okay. Shoot.”

Something else flickered behind Redheart’s eyes as they rose to meet Spitfire’s. “Are you sexually active?”

Spitfire’s brow arched high on her forehead. Then, as she glanced to the side and bit on the corner of her lip, she felt the mattress shift and another’s breath on her fur. A long, delectable shiver travelled down her neck, stoking a warmth that smoldered in her chest as Redheart nuzzled her cheek.

“It’s okay. You can say it.”

Warmth spread as the contact lingered. The bedsprings squeaked as Redheart scooched closer and the tip of Spitfire’s wing twitched as she felt a tail not her own brush and lay over her own. An exhale turned into a low, rumbling chuckle as she nuzzled along her nurse’s cheek until she brought them nose-to-nose.

“Honestly?” Spitfire felt her lips warm into a softer, smaller smile as she let herself wander astray in the glittering, crystal blue of Redheart’s eyes. “No, not lately. It’s been a rough ride for the last few months.” She nuzzled in closer, following the teasing scent of cinnamon to its source as warm puffs of air washed over her snout. “Guess I’ve been waiting for the right mare to catch my eye.”

Warm, electric tingles danced and sang through Spitfire’s blood as their lips brushed together. Her mouth parted ever-so-slightly and her hooves rose up along Redheart’s forelegs to gently wrap around her shoulders.

Now. Now was their moment.

Just as she felt her eyes begin to flutter, Redheart pulled away. A whine built up in Spitfire’s throat, silenced only by the return of her nurse’s lips brushing over her own. She felt them twist into a smile and relished in the heady chuckle that shook them. “Just one more question.”

Spitfire’s wingtips twitched and fluttered as her tail lashed over the mattress. Her whine turned to a growl while Redheart’s hooves squeezed over her shoulders, keeping her those precious, agonizing few millimeters away. “What?”

The tip of something hot and wet grazed over Spitfire’s nose as Redheart tilted her head to the side, leaning in enough so that their lips brushed together with every word. “Will you go out to dinner with me tonight?”

Without thought, hesitation, or debate, Spitfire murmured, “Yes.”

Redheart’s grip tightened around her shoulders and she felt another’s weight settle over her, gently guiding her down to the mattress. As their tails entwined over the covers, Spitfire let herself be lowered down and bathed in the warmth that filled her from her hooves to her wingtips.

“Good girl.”

Their lips met and Spitfire’s eyes properly fluttered shut. Her hooves wandered over Redheart’s shoulders, gently kneading and squeezing the skin and muscle that lay beneath her velvety coat while her nurse straddled her waist. She felt hooves cup her cheek and brush through her mane, drawing a longing groan as their kiss deepened.

As Redheart’s lips moved and massaged over her own, Spitfire committed to memory every new sensation that came with their kiss. Free from her hospital gown, she at last felt Redheart truly pressed against her. The fur along their bellies mixed and mingled as their coats were brought flush together, sharing a warmth kindled and cared for over the last two weeks that now began to flicker and flare to life.

It was only after Redheart’s tongue returned, asking entrance as it swiped over Spitfire’s upper lip did the last question filter through the treacle her mind was oh-so-happily becoming.

Spitfire’s eyes shot open as soon as the realization hit. She grunted into Redheart’s mouth, ignoring the movements of hooves over her body, the cinnamon tickling her nose, and breath washing over her fur that begged her to ignore the question prickling at the back of her mind. Wing unfurled, she went cross-eyed as she stared at her mare and pushed her away. “Hey, wait a minute!”

A line of drool connected their lips, whisked away with a lick of Redheart’s tongue. She stared down at Spitfire, eyes hooded and smoldering with want as her figure moulded itself over Spitfire’s. A light blush coloured the white of her muzzle, dusting it a faint, rosy pink. “Yes, Spitfire?”

Despite herself, despite the freedom so close at hand, and despite the mare—her mare at last in her hooves, Spitfire pouted. “You asked me out! I was going to ask you out!”

Redheart chuckled deep in her chest and stuck her tongue out. “Maybe be a little faster next time, then.”

“What—but—I was being good!” Spitfire sat up, forcing Redheart to her haunches as she brought their snouts within an inch of touching. “I was going to wait until you finished with that questionnaire so we wouldn’t get in any trouble!”

Redheart tilted her head to the side, grinning a little grin far too devious for any nurse and far too devilish to be fair. “What questionnaire?”

All Spitfire could do was stare at Redheart. “What questionnaire?” she echoed, jabbing a hoof at the clipboard discarded on the bedspread. “That questionnaire! The one the hospital made you ask!”

“Oh, Spitfire.” A soft laugh shook Redheart’s shoulders as she stroked Spitfire’s mane. The gentle, grazing touch roused a stirring in her feathers as her nurse slowly eased her back down to the mattress. “You sweet, silly thing. There is no questionnaire. I made it up.”

Spitfire’s brows knit, helpless as Redheart’s silky pink tail entwined with her own. “No.”

“Yes.” Redheart purred deep in her throat, a sound that gave Spitfire’s breath cause to catch. Blue eyes, lidded and smoldering with unmasked warmth and want, captivated her gaze, paralyzing her as the scent of cinnamon tickled her nose. “You’ve been free and out of my care since you signed on the dotted line outside.”

Licking her dried lips, Spitfire fought down a fitful flutter of her feathers. “But—”

“Which means,” Redheart said, holding her gaze as she lowered her head and left a light, feathering kiss on the Wonderbolt’s chest. A languid smile spread over her lips as she crawled along Spitfire’s frame. Their coats slid over each other, meshing and mingling and spilling their warmth between them.

Redheart drew up closer, bringing their cheeks together. The feeling of her breath on her ear dislodged the breath from Spitfire’s throat as she looped her hooves around the other mare’s waist. “Which means?”

She felt Redheart smile against her cheek. “Which means,” she said in a dulcet, hushed tone. “I feel absolutely no guilt—” A loose strand of her mane tickled along the bridge of Spitfire’s muzzle as she felt a soft pair of lips kiss the corner of her jaw. “—doing this.”

Warmth ballooned in Spitfire’s chest, fanning her uninjured wing wide before it fell over Redheart’s back and drew her in close. Another’s hooves wandered through her mane and rested on her shoulder. A small breath of a sigh floated past her lips as her eyes fluttered closed and basked in the sensations that ran across her from head to hoof.

She flicked her tail, committing to memory the feeling of Redheart’s tail entwined with her own. A cascade of pink blended into the orange and yellow of a wildfire as her hooves gripped, kneaded, and squeezed the muscles underneath her mare’s pristine white, velvety coat.

Redheart’s breath washed over her ear, hot and moist, and Spitfire followed the scent of cinnamon to its source. She nosed into the crook of her nurse’s—her girlfriend’s jaw, content for the moment to simply lay there and feel each other’s presence. No regulations or hospital gowns came between them.

Though she had long since fallen head-over-hooves, Spitfire could at last be with her Redheart. That thought and the rhythmic beating of a heart not hers against her chest brought a tender, delicate smile to her face.

Slowly, as if to not shatter the moment, she drew back, grazing the tip of her snout along Redheart’s jawline until their gazes met once more. A smile reflecting her own greeted her, brimming with a warmth and tenderness that gave her all the cause she needed to lean in and close those last precious few inches of space.

The passion and want that coursed through her blood abated as they kissed. It was something slower and gentler, but Spitfire’s heart still fluttered at the feeling of Redheart’s lips moving and massaging against her own. Outside, the hustle and bustle of a hospital at midday itched at the corner of her hearing, but was a medley of sounds happily drowned out by the soft puffs of their breath, the swishing of their tails over the bedspread, and the warmth that lulled them deeper into each other’s embrace.

When at last they separated, Redheart licked the tip of Spitfire’s snout. “Dinner tonight. I’ll pick you up at seven o’clock.”

Tricked or not, Spitfire didn’t have the will to even attempt indignation. Instead, she nosed her way under Redheart’s chin and sighed. “Fine, you win. Dinner tonight.”

The rumbling of Redheart’s chuckle shook her chin against Spitfire’s scalp. “I think you’ll find I always win.”

Spitfire couldn’t help but crack a grin. “We’ll see. I can get pretty stubborn about winning.”

“Well, then.” Blunt teeth nipped at the tip of her ear. The contact made Spitfire’s wing tense over Redheart’s back and summoned forth a squeak from her throat. “I suppose I’ll just have to break that stubborn streak of yours.”

Spitfire shuddered and returned the favour, nipping at the edge of Redheart’s jawline. “That better be a promise, Red.”

Redheart hummed and grazed her hoof over the edge of Spitfire’s wing, drawing another small shiver from the pegasus. Goldenrod feathers trembled, and the nurse drew back enough to smile down at her. “Depending on how things go tonight, you just might find out sooner than you think.”

Chuckling, Spitfire sat up on her haunches, bringing the tips of their snouts together once more. “It’s a date. Speaking of, though,” arching her brow, she ran her hoof down along Redheart’s foreleg until she found her hoof, “you’re picking me up? From where?”

“From Twilight’s castle,” Redheart said, eyeing their entwined hooves with unmasked approval. “Twilight’s always willing to help out a friend, and she’s more than happy to lend you a room for the night. She told me there’s plenty to share.”

“A room for the night,” Spitfire intoned, lifting her other brow high up on her forehead. A wicked edge twisted her grin into a smirk. “Am I even going to need it for that long?”

“We’ll see.” Though Redheart’s words were vague, the promise Spitfire saw in her eye and heard in her voice was crystal clear. “Now, I do need to get back to work. And you,” she said, poking the tip of her hoof into the pegasus’ chest, “need to get ready for our date.”

“I do, do I?”

“You’ll find your officer’s uniform waiting for your at the nurse’s station. Blaze dropped it off when she last visited.” An equally wicked gleam shone behind Redheart’s eyes. “She said that I looked like the kind of mare who liked her ponies in uniform. Funny thing.” A low, spine-tingling purr revved up in her throat. “She was right.”

Slowly, Spitfire withdrew her wing from around Redheart’s shoulders. Lidding her gaze, she moulded the warmth radiating from her chest into a smile that reflected the affection, desire, and want for the mare sitting across from her. “Then I guess I’ll have to look my best.”

“And I can’t wait.” Cupping Spitfire’s cheek, Redheart stole one last, chaste kiss before sliding off of the bed. She snatched the clipboard off of the comforter and lingered for a moment longer before turning to the door. “See you tonight?”

With a grin and a chuckle, Spitfire climbed down from the bed and joined her girlfriend’s side, rubbing their shoulders together as they journeyed back out into the hospital. “You know it, babe.”

Author's Note:

Turns out grad school is much more time consuming than I would have originally thought! Ah, the ignorance of youth.

One more chapter and an epilogue to go after this, folks. I don't want to make any promises about when those will come out, but I can tell you it'll be before the year's out. Probably. Most likely.

It really depends how many brainworms the finale inflicts upon me, and how many people enable those brainworms to take root.

Comments

[Rossby Waves]

Spits: thumbs.dreamstime.com/z/freedom-15957444.jpg

Red: thumb9.shutterstock.com/display_pic_with_logo/831952/831952,1326119203,122/stock-photo-pink-blush-with-brush-and-mirror-isolated-on-white-92602714.jpg

[Lingo]

This chapter, it is goooooooood.

[The_46th_Brony]

AYYYYY NEW CHAPTER! HYPE!!!!

[Dustino]

Yas. YAS. Gosh my heart just melted.
So hype!

[The_46th_Brony]

I know you said you were busy, I was just wondering if you had a rough estimate of time until the next chapter?