So Don't Sweat It Being Special
Spitfire stretched her wings and let out a pleasant little sound as the stiff joints popped a little. While she did so she took a chance to glance at the mare to her right as they made their way through the moon-lit streets of downtown Canterlot.
Rainbow Dash was a piece of work. Lean even by the standards of pegasi, she was more cat than pony. All sleek muscle dedicated to control and strength, with a wide barrel that was nothing but corded muscle.
Careful dear. Keep this up and you're going to start drooling.
“So there was this moment of dead silence, and then suddenly Pinkie shouts out, 'Oatmeal, are you crazy?!' I don't think any of us ever found out what she was saying while we were all arguing back and forth.”
“All that for a ticket huh?” Spitfire asked, coming back to reality.
Priorities. Chit chat now. Drooling later.
“Yeah, no kidding. We all kind of went a little nuts at the prospect of getting to go to the Gala, ya know? There was something there we all wanted to see, to do. Ponies made it out to be this big deal, and, well...”
“Four hours of brown nosing and ten minutes of stampeding huh?”
“Yeah...” Rainbow Dash chuckled. “Least we had fun.”
Spitfire snorted.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Rainbow Dash said confidently, “don't tell anyone I said this, but after everything was over we all went out for coffee and doughnuts and, swear to the sun, Celestia shows up. She said she had a blast.”
“No. No, you're pulling my wing here.”
“Swear it on the sun and moon! She hates the gala, and the fact that we wrecked it made her night.”
“No shit?”
“No shit.”
Spitfire laughed.
“Geez, is there anyone you don't know personally or any adventure you haven't had?”
“Never been ice skating with Discord.”
Spitfire snorted again.
“He's more Fluttershy's bud than the rest of us.”
Spitfire stopped short. Rainbow Dash turned and smirked back at her.
“Sun and moon. I swear.”
“... You know, I’m not even going to ask for you to explain that one. You're just amazing enough that I believe you at this point.”
“Yeah, well, there's nothing Rainbow Danger Dash hasn't done, and no one she hasn't beat!”
Spitfire just chuckled and continued walking. She was a pace behind Rainbow Dash now. She had once heard one of Dash's friends, that super model or whatever she was, prissy white unicorn, grumble that she wished she could get Dash to do something with her hair. Spitfire was of the opinion that said PWU could blow right to Tartarus. Dash's mane fascinated her. It was almost like a second Rainbow Dash: cool and loose at rest, swept back and determined when the chips were down, and wild and strong with joy. Dash's mane, like everything else about her, was every inch Rainbow Dash. Granted, it wasn't as nice as her wings. Or her flanks.
Or her rump.
Drooling!
Yeah, yeah, got it.
Spitfire caught up to Dash and the two continued to chat as they walked. Dash continued on, sharing stories of her adventures before she joined the ‘Bolts. Spitfire had heard most of them before, of course. It was hard to miss some of them in the papers, but then, it was one thing to read about them, and another entirely to hear Dash recount with enthusiasm how she casually slipped into a pack of changelings wearing her skin as they circled one of her friends, none of them knowing what was about to hit them.
Dash was something else, really. She wore confidence like a second skin. Spitfire admitted that the first time she had met Dash, she seemed nice, but the girl was obviously a bundle of nerves. Sometime between then and when she showed up at the Academy that skittish filly had gone somewhere and been replaced with... well, Dash. Maybe it was when she apparently dive bombed a sleeping dragon. Or challenged a chaos god to a boxing match. That was the thing though; Dash was a national hero so many times over it stopped being astounding, could count three-scratch that, four-gods among her personal contacts, and could still go to a bar and complain about the jukebox being out of tune like any other pony. Being a hero was just... part of her. Same as being a flier was part of Spitfire, or being kind and wise was part of Princess Celestia. It was just... Dash. Who she was. Dash was the kind of person who could stand on the edge of Tartarus, wink and dive in, and you’d follow. Why? She’s Rainbow Dash, and Spitfire would be lying if she said she didn’t find that-
- hot as all hell -
-fascinating.
The two trotted on, mostly swapping stories, same as they had done all night. It had been a pretty good night, just the two of them rolling around town, talking. Unfortunately, as the minutes slipped by the two of them drew closer to Spitfire's apartment, and perhaps the end of the experience. Before either knew it, they were standing outside Spitfire's door.
Spitfire drew a key from her coat pocket, turned and smiled amiably to Dash. Dash smiled back, all confidence and warm friendship. She was the spirit of loyalty, after all.
What the hell? Why not throw caution to the wind and live a little?
“So, Dash, Wanna come on in and have some... coffee?”
“Nah, thanks. Stuff makes me waaaaay too jittery.”
“Oh. Okay....”
The moment hung in the air. Spitfire had no idea why she had done that. It was such a bonehead move, throwing herself out like that.
Why didn’t you just whip around and flick your tail up like a damn flag? Runway’s this way!
She had been stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupi-
“If you got some hot cocoa though, I'd love some right now.”
...
What?
“It's a little nippy out.”
Spitfire stood dumbfounded for a second.
“Dash... do you... even know what 'coffee' means?”
“That you wanted to serve me coffee?”
A moment of silence hung in the air.
“... You've... not dated much you?”
“What, me? Of course I have! What makes you think otherwise?”
“Dash, 'coffee' means sex.”
Dash suddenly sprung backwards, wings flaring and flapping in panic like a startled bird.
“Wow-what?!”
Spitfire laughed.
“Goddess above-I'm guessing that you haven't had much of that either.”
“W-what?! Me?! Nah, you got me all wrong. Fooled you didn't I? Me? Rainbow Danger Dash? Heh. Mares, stallions, I've got them alll-lleeeep!” In the moment Rainbow Dash closed her eyes to settle into a more comfortable bragging pose, Spitfire lunged the distance and blew a stream of hot, steamy breath along Dash's jaw line. Dash leaped back again, wings flaring and her cheeks turning bright red underneath her coat. Spitfire couldn’t help but giggle. Maybe a little too hysterically.
Dear Celestia. I don't know if that is the most adorable or the hottest thing I've ever seen...
“Well,” Spitfire said, eyelids lowered to half mast as her lips curled into a faint, fey smile, “I am very glad to hear Rainbow Danger Dash isn't afraid to... play both sides of the field.” Her eyelids lowered another notch, as did her voice. She practically purred. “Very glad indeed.”
This seemed to have the opposite effect of what was intended. Dash's back arched as her wings continued to twitch over her shoulders, causing her to look like she was going to curve in on herself. Spitfire stared at her for a second longer, her patented smile slipping. She then closed her eyes and let out a sigh.
“Alright, let’s start from the beginning.” Spitfire looked up at Dash, and suddenly found it hard to proceed. “I guess... look, I’m sorry. I didn’t really think this through, and I didn’t realize it would put you on the spot.” She looked away and rubbed the back of her neck with her hoof. “I mean... sorry about that.”
“Nah, nah, it’s totally cool!” Dash chuckled unconvincingly. “I mean, I’m the spaz here. Let’s just forget about all this. Hey, listen I got to bank tomorrow-I mean I have to stop at the bank.” Her wings began fluttering and she began turning away. “I mean-”
“Dash!” Spitfire threw her hoof out and Dash stopped in her tracks. “You don’t have to... It's okay, you know? It’s not anything to be embarrassed about.” Dash seemed to relax a bit. “We all have first times, so it’s cool that you haven’t wasted yours, you know?”
The two of them just stood there for a long moment. Dash just kind of stood and shuffled around in spot. Spitfire looked the other way and chewed her lip.
“Yeah, okay.” Dash said, after a few moments. “I just, you know...”
Spitfire rolled her eyes.
“Hey Dash, imagine Princess Celestia having sex!”
Dash took a step back and whinnied in surprise, like she just caught wind of a foal’s fresh leavings.
“Wow! What?”
“It’s kind of weird, right? Sort of awkward? Kind of pokes into a place you didn't want to go? At odds with most of the things you think about her? Most of what we really think about with ponies has so little to do with sex it seems so silly to make that big a deal about who we have or haven't slept with. It’s such a personal thing between two... or three... ponies, that trying to take it out of that context is silly, ya' know?” Spitfire smiled. “So, no, you don't need to have had sex with a bunch of ponies I don't know to impress me. Alright? We cool?”
Rainbow Dash stood there for a second, mulling it over, and then smiled and relaxed for the first time since Spitfire had mentioned the damn coffee to her at all. “Yeah, I guess so. We're cool.”
“And I promise not to tell anypony about your dirty little secret either, ‘kay?”
“Yeah, alright. Pinkie Promise?”
“What?”
Dash shook her head.
“Never mind. Just hoofbump.”
“Alright.”
Spitfire obliged her, and the two stepped back from each other, smiling. It seemed that the crisis had been averted. But then Dash turned her head away and began to look pensive.
Then she blushed.
“So... three ponies?”
I said that, didn’t I?
Spitfire chuckled and coughed awkwardly.
“Ummm... let’s just say my academy days were pretty interesting.”
“With Soarin?”
“Dash, a gentlemare never kisses and tells.”
“Sun above, now you sound like Rarity.”
“What, the discretion or the threesomes?”
“Both, if the way Fancy Pants's wife looks at her is any indication.”
Spitfire regretted that moment. There are times in one’s life which come a hair shy of being perfect, and that closeness can haunt a pony to their graves.
If she had been drinking the spit-take would have been glorious.
“Okay.” Spitfire said, gasping for breath between fits of laughter. “Okay, you got me back.”
“Heh, yeah...” Dash said, smiling. Spitfire looked up and smiled back, and then watched as the smile, while held fast on her lips, sort of drained from her eyes. Like she remembered something that was bothering her. What was-
… Oh, right. How this conversation happened.
“So, do you really have to bank tomorrow?”
“What-oh, hah! No. No. I just... kind of wanted to... well, I mean, you could tell. Scram.” She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly.
Now or never Spitsy.
“The thought of having sex with me that repulsive?”
“What?! No! No! I just-”
“Just wanted to get away from me with my sleek, toned body and my years of experience? Wanted to avoid the pain of screwing all night like an animal?”
“Hey! I didn’t say-”
“Then what did you want to say?”
“I just... I...” Rainbow Dash stood there, fumbling over her words for a long while. Spitfire held her face neutral the entire time. Then, slowly and surely, she stuck her tongue out while Dash stared at the sidewalk for inspiration. It took a moment for Dash to finally catch on.
“... You’re screwing with me, aren’t you?”
“Not yet, honey. You keep trying to avoid it.”
“Gaah!”
Sun above she is cute when she blushes.
“I’m not going to force you into anything,” Spitfire said, sauntering up to Rainbow Dash. “I can understand how this all might be a bit...” She circled around her now, like a cat going in for a kill. “...intimidating for you, but... well, I stand by the offers I make.” Dash whipped around just as Spitfire turned as well, bringing her muzzle inches from Dash’s, and their eyes locked.
Dash blushed.
Spitfire leaned past Dash’s face and let her next sentence out in a hot, extra-steamy whisper. “If your little... condition is still bothering you, I’d be more than happy to help.” She saw Dash’s wings shiver as she leaned back. Her whole face had turned red and her eyes were wide with awe. Spitfire smiled, turned, and walked towards her door, giving Dash’s chin a gentle brush with her tail as she strolled past. She reached her door without another word, and casually re-fished her keys out of her jacket pocket with her wingtips. Biting down on the right key, she unlocked her door as if nothing had happened at all. She opened the door and then turned to Dash and gave her a perfectly normal smile.
“Coffee’s upstairs,” her smile grew a little and her voice dropped a notch, “...if you want some.”
And with that, Spitfire marched into the stairwell, grabbed the door with her back left hoof, swished her tail in behind her, and closed it tight.
---
Spitfire trotted up the stairs, cool as cucumber. There was even a spring in her step and she tunelessly hummed a note with every stair she ascended. As she made her way up through, the humming dropped in volume, and her smile slowly faded as she began, perhaps without realizing it, chewing her lip. By the time she got to the top and started dancing around in place a little. One would even say that the spring in her step was in fact a nervous fidget.
Very suddenly she stopped, and slammed both front hooves on the ground with a grunt of frustration.
“Thunderheads in the bathtub,” she said, giving a disgusted sigh. “‘Little Condition?’ Really?! What the hay was I thinking?” She began pacing around the living room of her flat. “Smooth Spitsy, real smooth.”
Well hey, after that little show, there’s little chance you’ll embarrass yourself like that in front of Dash again. Always a silver lining, huh?
“Shut up,” she hissed to no one in particular. Rolling her eyes, she gripped the collar of her flight jacket in her teeth and then, with a roll of her shoulder, yanked one hoof through. With a flick of her head and a kick she tossed the jacket onto the dining room table as she turned and plodded over to the couch, only to end her trot by angrily hurling herself onto her furniture. She proceeded to grab a pillow and curl around it and the arm of her couch, giving the wall the deadpan glare she couldn't give her own sense of snarking humiliation.
Geez, what is she? Four, five years younger than you? Hasn’t even dated yet and you tried to pounce on her. Guess you want to get an early start on that cougar rep, huh?
“Shut up.”
Also, your seduction skills go down like a shot of flaming vodka. Hey, maybe the midnight Rainboom of her getting the hay out of here will be-
…
Spitfire looked behind her at the stairwell leading into her flat.
Was that a knock at her door?
Spitfire rolled off of her couch. She trotted over to the stairs and glanced down into the darkness, frowning with an eyebrow quirked.
Sure enough, after a few seconds, whoever was down there pounded on her door again. More insistent this time from the sounds of it.
“... Dash?” Spitfire spoke up. Silence. “Dash? Is that you?” Louder this time.
The knob turned, and a cyan muzzle and mop of rainbow hair poked its way in.
“Uh... hey? Can I... come in?”
No, I just invited you into my bedroom to screw like an animal. Of course you can’t come into my house less than a minute later.
Spitfire, wisely perhaps, muzzled her knee jerk reaction.
“Sure, come on up.”
Spitfire turned and marched into the large open kitchen which adjoined the living room. She made it a point not to look at the stairwell as Dash made her way up.
So what now?
Buck it. Roll with it.
Spitfire opened the fridge and pulled out the tupperware container full of coffee grinds with her teeth and set to work making herself a cup.
The trotting behind her grew louder and came to a halt. It was followed by an oddly non-commital grunt.
“Whuzup?” She managed around the spoon in her mouth before tossing a last spoonfull into the filter and setting the lid down.
“Just... kind of... spartan.”
“Hmrf?” Spitfire inquired, pulling a second mug out of the cupboard.
“I mean, it’s nice and all. Really nice spartan. But I just kind of figured they would pay the Captain of the Wonderbolts better.”
Spitfire spat out the milk carton before replying as she clambered up onto the counter to reach into another cupboard.
“They do. I’m a single girl. Not much need for a mansion you know.” She reached in and pulled a plastic bag out of a blue box and tossed it onto the counter-top. “Plus, frees up a lot of money for those orgies I host.”
Awkward silence.
We are growing so acquainted tonight, aren’t we?
Spitfire turned and found Dash staring at her, her eyes wide and face lit up with a blush.
“It was a joke, Dash.” She then gave out a laugh and an easy smile. “Chill, okay?”
“Y-yeah. Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Spitfire then turned back to her work, using her wings to balance on her hind legs while she tipped the milk carton into one of the mugs. “I mostly just keep it. Occasionally buy myself nice things. Ensure I eat well. I invest a lot of it in stocks and bonds.”
“Really?”
“Yeah” she said, before pausing to tear the bag open with her teeth. “I need to think about retirement, you know? Comet Fall, the last captain before me did so and last I heard he’s living pretty peacefully. He used all that money he saved to buy himself an opera house. Makes him enough to keep playing the market and live a cozy life with his wife and kids. Plus, he gets to see all those operas he loved for free every night they play.” She finished by slamming the door to the microwave oven shut, and then, with a swipe of her hoof, turned the knob and set the timer to a minute and a half.
“Oh wow.”
“Yeah, you don’t think about that when you sign up, ya know? Too many 'Bolts get injured before they can retire normally and find themselves scrambling for cash after a decade.”
“That why Blue Blazes does all those toothpaste billboards?”
“Yeah,” Spitfire said, reaching out and sliding her hoof through the plastic loop of the coffee pot. She raised herself up on her other forehoof and poured the hot coffee into the remaining mug. “He’s one of the lucky ones.” She no sooner replaced the pot when the microwave went off. She reached over, opening the door, and reaching in with her wing, threaded the tip through the handle. Delicately, she threaded her wing through the second cup and turned and trotted over to Dash who was still standing around, quietly looking at the paintings on the walls. As she strolled by, Spitfire reached out her right wing to her.
“Here. Yours.”
“Oh! Oh, thanks.” With a nervous grin Dash carefully slid her wing into the grip as Spitfire pulled hers out. Spitfire tried to suppress any reaction to the observation that Dash fidgeted at the contact. Without saying a word she moved ahead towards her couch. Dash paused behind her, grabbing the mug with her left hoof and taking a sip, pulling back in surprise.
“Hey! Hot chocolate!” She looked up and grinned at Spitfire. “Thanks!”
Spitfire settled into one end of the couch and smiled back.
“You said you liked it.” She chuckled. “Come over here. Sit down.”
Dash trotted up and pulled herself onto the couch on the opposite end of Spitfire. A might more at ease than she had been when she came through the door. The two of them drank in silence for a little while, Dash staring at the furnishing, and Spitfire staring at Dash.
Well, we can’t just sit here forever.
“So?” Spitfire asked.
“So?” Dash asked, face still calm, but her body, Spitfire having studied it at length, tensing up.
“Why did you come in, Dash?”
Dash said nothing, and took another gulp of her hot cocoa.
“That drink won’t last forever.”
“I... uh, know..” Dash said. She followed it up with another gulp of the now merely-warm cocoa.
Spitfire continued to sit there, trying not to show how nervous she was herself. Finally she closed her eyes, breathed in deep, and let out a sigh. When she was done she looked away from Dash who was looking at her.
“Look, I’m sorry I acted like that. It was feathering stupid of me. I’m honestly impressed you came in here at all.”
“No!” Dash said suddenly. Spitfire’s head snapped up and locked eyes with Dash. Dash suddenly averted her gaze. “I mean... uh.”
There was a brief pause which took way too long.
“I mean...” Dash began. “Uh...”
“It’s alright Dash. I really should have been way more considerate. You don’t have to accept what I did to make me comfortable.”
“That’s not-you’re right, that really did weird me out, but... uh...”
“‘But’ ‘uh?’”
“I’m uh-yeah. I’m... I’mnotsayingno.”
The rest of the cocoa went down in one epic gulp.
Spitfire leaned back against her end of the sofa. She would have said something but, lacking anything immediate to say, she instead opted for another gulp of coffee. Suddenly her coffee cup just seemed really fascinating at the moment. A thought occurred to her.
“Does that mean you say yes?”
“No-I mean maybe-I mean... no?”
“... I see?”
“...I mean...” Dash trailed off.
I wonder if these awkward silences are karmic retribution for all the dumb jokes we told at that bar.
“It’s just...” she spoke up, “It’s just kind of hard to get my head around, you know? If you had asked me to jump at almost any point in my life past puberty I would have asked how high, but now, after flying with you for a year, you’re like... my best friend outside of the girls, you know?”
“So I’m only sixth fiddle?” Spitfire sniffed, her eyes closed and her muzzle scrunched up in an exaggerated look of indignation. “I see how it is!”
“I-what?!”
Spitfire snorted.
“You are so easy to catch off guard.”
“Barking Tartarus, Spitfire, I am not in the mood!” Of course, Dash was laughing with her.
“Then what are you in the mood for?” Spitfire asked, suddenly cutting off her chuckling.
“I...”
“Look, Dash.” Spitfire leaned forward, bringing one hoof to rest on top of Dash’s. “I meant it when I said I wanted to do this, but I also meant it when I said you didn’t have to do anything you didn’t want to do.” Spitfire felt her face getting a little warm as she stared into Dash’s eyes. “You’re something else Dash. I wouldn’t have made the offer if I didn’t... if I didn’t think the world of you, ya know? If you don’t want to do it, tell me now and we can just put this behind us, but if you want to... you can trust me.” She smiled. “I promise.”
Dash simply stared back in silence, her mouth a perfect little “o” of amazement and her face burning red. She finally broke eye contact, turning her gaze into the sofa. She tapped her free forehoof twice, and then glanced at Spitfire.
“If it... if it gets too weird for me, can we stop?”
Spitfire’s heart did a double flip.
“Yes.”
Dash shifted her hoof and returned Spitfire’s grip.
“Alright, let nopony say Dash ever backed down from an adventure.”
“That’s the spirit!”
Dash’s eyes suddenly shifted quickly to the left and right, cocksure grin frozen on her face.
“So... What do we do now?!”
Spitfire fell forward, her forehead bashing into the leather cushion, groaning and laughing at the same time.
“What-I’m new at this!”
“Well you see Dash, when a mare and mare love each other very much, they do a special kind of hug until the both of them scream for Celestia-”
“Cut the crap Spitfire.”
Spitfire just chuckled, leaning up to her full height. Her wings flared, ever so slightly, just for effect. She let go of Dash’s hoof, and smoothly reached up and grabbed the collar of Dash’s flight jacket.
“First,” she purred, giving Dash her best sultry look, “we kiss.”