• Published 5th Jan 2013
  • 6,111 Views, 179 Comments

If the Flight Suit Fits - TheLastBrunnenG

A Spitfire and Dash romance, about as smooth as a head-on collision at terminal velocity.

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Restraint, or Lack Thereof

“Heck of a day, eh, Cap?” asked the white-maned pegasus lounging on a couch in the Wonderbolts’ Cloudsdale headquarters ready room.

Spitfire rubbed her jaw with one hoof, turning a broken pair of flight goggles over with another. “Yeah, you could say that. Knocked out cold by a flailing unicorn – I don’t think Blaze will ever let me live this one down,” She cocked an eyebrow but didn’t look up. “But that rescue! Did you see that, Fleetfoot? One little pegasus carried three ‘Bolts and a unicorn from terminal velocity to champion performance and managed to pull off a move we all thought was pure fantasy at the same time. Never seen anything like it! Or like her.”

Fleetfoot grinned. “Nice afternoon with your savior, I take it?”

“She was amazing, Fleet! We put her through her paces all evening and it was like seeing myself ten or twelve years ago. All speed, all passion.” The fiery Captain smiled as she stated into the shattered lenses she’d been wearing hours earlier. “Wish I could offer her a spot today.”

“Sounds like you wish you could offer her more than that, Cap.” Leaning forward, Fleetfoot narrowed her eyes and added, “That little filly’s what, ten years younger than you? Twelve? I know that look in your eyes – it’s the one that says you’re about to break a dozen or so rules. Better be careful, Spits.”

“I know what I’m doing, Fleet,” growled the yellow pegasus. “I’ve got it under control.” Spitfire opened a desk drawer and flung the shattered goggles inside, along with an undelivered and half-written letter.


I had an incredible time with you today! You’re like nopony I’ve ever met. I’m not just saying that because I owe you my life, I promise. I thought maybe we could get together outside of work sometime, and…


Chattering and mingling ponies wearing the latest in Canterlot fashion surrounded two Wonderbolts who looked entirely out of place in their blue-and-gold flight suits. “Pie again, Soarin? Really? We had to have your uniform let out twice already this winter, big guy. And wipe your chin, you’re drooling.”

The massive stallion licked crumbs from his muzzle as his Captain poked him in the gut. “Yeah, yeah. You’re just jealous because – hey, my pie!”

Holy leaping Luna, it’s her, Spitfire thought. Of all the ponies to show up at the Gala... I guess I should have known Celestia would have the Elements here. She watched dumbstruck and slack-jawed as the rainbow-maned pony juggled pie and drinks and more. Dash stood there, perched perfectly and balancing a drink on an outstretched rear hoof.

Seconds passed but they felt like long, hot hours to the orange-maned mare. Spitfire felt her gaze wander from flawless blue wings to muscled thighs to taut flanks and brilliant cutie mark, and further. She felt her heart pound and pulse quicken before a hoof jabbed her in the ribs. Inhaling sharply and realizing she’d been holding her breath, she shook her head. “Huh? What – what is it?”

Soarin barely suppressed a cackle. “Wipe your chin, Captain Cradle-robber! You were drooling.”

Spitfire, wide-eyed and panting, took several involuntary steps backward, looking around frantically for a random pack of nobles to lose herself in. Keep it together, she thought, just back away. No good can come of this. Keep control, Spitfire, just back away…


“Slow down, Spitfire! Think about what you’re doing!” The pale yellow mare was a mirror of Spitfire save for her two-toned blue mane, and slammed her hooves on her leader’s desk. “There are rules, regulations, there’s a waiting list and tryouts and - “

“Back off, Misty Fly!” Spitfire brushed her teammate's hooves aside and continued filling out an acceptance letter. “You weren’t there. You should have seen her, Misty. Sixteen point five wingpower – sixteen! It was unreal. She’s a leader, too.” Spitfire titled the form ‘Dash, Rainbow A.’ and held it in her hooves. “Manehattan, Fillydelphia, anywhere else would have sent the best of the best to lift that much water, and they’d still struggle. Dash motivated a bunch of small-town yahoos at the last minute, pulled it off, and was a whisker away from setting a record. We need her, Misty!”

“No,” snarled Misty, “you need her. Our roster's full, Spitfire. Every slot and every alternate – you know that. It’s no secret you’ve got it bad for this filly – “

“Mare, Misty. She’s not in flight school, you know.”

“I said filly and I meant it! Sweet Celestia, Boss, when you were graduating flight school she wasn’t even old enough for Junior Speedsters camp! You do this, Spitfire, and you’ll never live it down. We all respect you, Boss, but this is over the line.”

Spitfire balled up the acceptance letter and threw it at the pegasus opposite her. She spun and rammed a hoof into her locker, leaving a dent and a drop of blood. “Control, patience, restraint,” she muttered through clenched teeth, “Control, patience, restraint…”


The Wonderbolts Academy flightline was deserted save for two ponies, yellow and azure. “Congratulations, Dash! With everything you’ve accomplished and everything you’ve shown me here, you’re a shoo-in. As soon as spot opens up, it’s yours. You earned it.”

They shook hooves and Dash said something but Spitfire’s mind was elsewhere. She looked down and realized she was still holding that perfect blue hoof. “Dash, there’s something else I wanted to ask you. I – “

Control, Spitfire, control yourself! You can wait, you can be patient, you can…

She locked eyes with the rainbow mare across from her, amber to magenta, and continued, “I was wondering if you’d like to stick around a while for – “ She swallowed and held her breath and ruffled her wings.

Control, control, she thought, buck it, there'll be time for self-control later. A predatory little smile eased onto her muzzle.

“ – dinner?”

Author's Note:

TMP Prompt # 218.