Day In, Day Out
Sheaves of paper hid every inch of desktop space on the utilitarian grey metal desk. A fire-maned pegasus sat at the desk, amber eyes boring holes in mountains of reports, charts, and graphs. A massive blue stallion entered the office with the clattering of a creaky door and seemed to draw no notice.
The mare furrowed her brow as she held a stack of documents. “Opposing Solo was point oh two slow on the knife edge pass. Have to improve that before the pairs competition in Trottingham.”
Sipping noisily at a steaming mug of coffee, the stallion looked nonchalantly around the plain and dimly-lit office. “So, Captain, are the cows singing today?”
Again the mare muttered under her breath. “Lead Solo was almost a meter low on the Ponychev’s Cobra maneuver. That’d cost us a point if the judges were paying attention.”
Soarin swirled the froth on his drink and said, “Your chair’s made of polka-dotted snakes, Boss.”
Shuffling the stack of papers, Spitfire ran a quill across a line of numbers and scribbled in the margins. “Cloudsdale Air Minister’s in town next week, that’ll throw afternoon practice off by three hours a day. Damn.”
“You know, Spitfire,” said the now frothy-muzzled stallion, “I have this strange feeling you’re not paying me the slightest bit of attention.” Grinning ear to ear, he said, “Wonder what would grab your attention? How about…” He paused for a moment and continued noticeably louder, “Hey Spitfire, how was your little date?”
She dropped her papers and her head shot up, eyes flashing and teeth bared. “What? What about it? Now you’re on my case too, Soarin?”
He threw his hooves up, drink sloshing dangerously. “Not me, Cap! I was just asking a friendly little question.”
“Well now,” she growled, sitting back in her chair, “it doesn’t matter, does it? It’s over and today is a day like every other. Review, practice, review, perform, repeat. That’s the drill. Same as always.”
“Yeah, but today isn’t the same, is it?” Soarin sipped gingerly at his mug, wiping away a mustache of froth with a hoof. “When’s the last time you tried to plan a schedule or review a practice after a date? For that matter, when’s the last time you had a date at all?”
“Not your concern, Soarin.”
“Oh, but it is. Every paper in Cloudsdale this morning opened with a story about the legendary Wonderbolts leader being seen canoodling with, and I quote, ‘Best Young Flyer winner and Element of Harmony bearer Rainbow Dash, a mare almost half the age of the Wonderbolts’ Captain.’ This is the kind of scrutiny we’re under, Spitfire. Every wingbeat, every show, every time we take a dump it’s news. So as your second in command, it’s my responsibility to ask – what in Tartarus is going through your head, Spitfire?”
The yellow pegasus glared at the pony opposite her, her jaw set and nostrils flaring. After a few long moments she put down the sheaf of reports and dropped her head into her hooves, elbows on the littered desk and ears drooping. “We were on the flightline, just the two of us, after all the other Academy grads took off. I told her she was basically already in, pending availability of an open slot. Which is true – she’s definitely ‘Bolts material, no question – but then, Soarin, I… I don’t know what I did.”
“Sure you do! You asked her out.”
Spitfire shook her head. “Everypony in that locker room was right. Dash is years younger than me, and better than I was at her age. She even called me out on it – said she had to know if I was offering her the Wonderbolts position in exchange for a roll in the clouds. I’ve never felt like such a creepy jerk in all my life.”
“But she said yes anyway?”
“Yeah, after I swore on my wings that it was just a date. She made me do this kooky thing called a ‘Pinkie Promise’ or something like that, too.” Spitfire’s voice was oddly small as she smiled weakly. “Then she said okay and told me she’d always wanted to ask me the same thing. And it was fine. Great, really. We hit that little café that just opened in the Upper East Quarter, ate and talked, and flew to the observation deck on the Astronomy Spire to watch the sunset.”
“Aw, you romantic old sap!” Soarin chuckled and slapped his knee. “So the big question, Cap – why now?”
She motioned around the office with her hooves. “See this? This is all I’ve had for over fifteen years, Soarin.” One hoof to her temple and the other shuffling papers, she continued, “Fifteen years of trophies and reports and flight schedules. Fifteen years of performance reviews and shows and training every day, day in and day out. I’m burning out, Soar. If I don’t take time to slow down and smell the clouds, and soon, then this office is all I’ll ever have.”
Soarin arched an eyebrow. “And this little blue filly is your solution? I know what the others have said, and yeah, I was there too. I saw how you acted around her at the Gala, and how your eyes got dreamy and distant and you smiled a little whenever her picture was in the paper. You sure about this, Spitfire?”
The Wonderbolt Captain smiled and sighed. “It was just one date, but yeah. I’m sure. There’s no pony like her, Soarin.” She opened a desk drawer and took out a newspaper clipping. Running a hoof over the photo, her eyes twinkled as she said, “You were right, you know? I hadn’t been on a date since freshman year of Flight School. I have no idea what I’m doing. It’s like learning to fly all over again. I’m terrified I’ll run her off and I’m scared I’ll crash and burn.”
“And you love it.”
She nodded slowly. “Like nothing else, Soar. Haven’t felt a thrill like this since my first show, since the very first time I launched off the platform and heard ten thousand ponies cheer. If I have to break the cycle, break out of the rut I’m in, then I might as well – how did the old theme song go? ‘Live in fame or go down in flames’? If anypony can rejuvenate me, then it might as well be the best - and that’s Rainbow Dash.”
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Seriously the paparazi are that desperate.
Spitfire's an idiot... xD
AWESOME!! Just a question though. How much older is Spitfire supposed to be than Dash? Like 10, maybe 15 years?
1942413 According to the author's blog post:
But...this doesn't tell us what happens after the fight at all!
Good stuff though. You know, it never occured to me that Spitfire might be way older than Dash.
I love how soarin' is the only one being mature about this.
If you apply the half plus seven rule to their relationship (assuming Spitfire is 38: Half 38 is 19+7 is 26) they really shouldn't be dating at all.
http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Half%20plus%20seven
1952547 i still call bull on that theory/ 'rule'
I like Russell Brand's version - 'i would have sex with somebody who is 18, or somebody who is 80. it makes no difference to me'
It's lonely at the top and even lonelier for those in the service. Maybe Spitfire does need to take a risk and stop being alone before she finds herself at her passing out parade with a chest-full of medals and not one meaningful adult relationship in her life.
1969311 but i've never had a meaning full relationship for a long time and im fine
no you're not
SHUT UP YOU, those voices man, cant seem to shut them up.
Well... thas a great start. Spitfire only going out with Dash just so she can feel something and pretent to be young again... Thats pretty stupid for the captain of the wonderbolts^^