Sometimes, even the strongest of us need to let go for a while.
Spitfire - Captain, lead flyer and idiot-wrangler of the Wonderbolts - has a reputation. Whether she's whipping her wingmates into shape, keeping her trainees in line or sometimes-intentionally scaring little kids, it's hard for many to imagine her not either shouting or being ready to shout at a moment's notice.
That's not to say ponies disapprove. Even ignoring the many times the job or the crowd demand that sort of display, it's not unreasonable to assume she must be under a lot of stress, so few will begrudge her a bit of a raised voice. Still, regardless of the reasons, this does mean that, to most, she is a very scary mare.
It is therefore good, on multiple levels, that no one knows about her secret meetings with one of the most easily scared ponies in Equestria or about what truly happens within her cottage.
An entry in Bicyclette'sCrackship Contest that... I'm not at all satisfied with and basically shamed myself into writing. Here's hoping I didn't screw it up too badly.
Spitfire flew through the routine that had been drawn up for the next season of performances. Her wings pumped at the air and the fur around her muzzle and ears warmed from the friction of the wind as she proceeded precisely through the laid-out manoeuvres. Her mind was in several places at once – carrying out the moves she was doing, noting places to work on and improve in the moves she'd done and preparing for the moves she was about to do.
Spitfire flew to every point in the path with near-mechanical precision. Every spot in the routine had been decided so precisely that the only things stopping someone from making a map would be that it took place in three dimensions and that the paths converged and diverted continually in an intricate dance.
Spitfire flew for the benefit of her teammates. After all, the Wonderbolts weren't a solo, ego-driven element, no matter what some of the rookies assumed. They were a team and they had to be mindful of each other. Every burst of speed that sent a fresh wave of heat over her face; every turn so sharp the G-forces pulled at her insides; every dive-and-pull-out where she skimmed the ground by centimetres; all of them had to be made not only considering how she'd manage them and how she'd interact directly with her squadmates, but also how her slipstream affected, guided or interfered with all the ponies behind her. And, as she was the captain and lead flyer, that was a lot of ponies.
Flying filled Spitfire's every thought and impulse, so much that she would only know if she'd been breathing if she was still conscious by the end. She had no choice – any distraction, no matter how tiny, could be enough to send the whole routine spiralling out of control and, at the speeds they were going, they couldn't afford that kind of disruption. Of course, that same danger meant that whenever something did go wrong, there was no panic, no flailing, just a calm dispersing of formation and flying back to the clouds below.
And when Fleetfoot did just that, Spitfire merely gave an aggravated snort and banked into a u-turn before landing harshly in front of her panting squadmates. She took a moment to exhale slowly and gather her breath before glaring at them and asking, “Alright, what happened out there?”
Fleetfoot groaned. “Sorry, Cap. Got a little spooked when someone” she glared at High Winds, “got so close she could have sniffed my tail.”
High Winds glared right back, looking up at the taller mare. “Hey, cut me some slack – when I see Wave Chill suddenly start turning out of the routine right before the corkscrew, I get a little confused. So sue me.”
“I wasn't turning out of it, you frigging...” Wave Chill gave a growling sigh before turning to look at Soarin. “I had to adjust myself after my wing leader sent a bad slipstream my way.”
Soarin flinched back a little, his hooves raising defensively. “Hey, I just took the headwind a bit wrong – it happens! Besides, no one else had as much of a problem with it.”
“Oh, it just happens?” Wave Chill repeated mockingly, seemingly ignoring the second part. “You sure you didn't just get distracted watching a pretty mare again? Or maybe thinking about stuffing your face with pie?”
Soarin's eyes narrowed and his hooves lowered, an angry sneer coming onto his face. “Oh, that's rich, coming from the guy who ploughed through four of us last June just so you could get to signing autographs faster.”
Wave Chill rolled his eyes. “Well, excuse me for actually caring about our fans. Besides, my niece was gonna be there. Hurt my wing, too, but you don't see me whining about it.”
“You could have taken my eye out with that wing!” Soarin snarled. “If I had taken off my goggles a bit sooner... and you did knock Fleetfoot off the cloud!”
“Hey, don't try and drag me in on your side, Clipper,” Fleetfoot shot back. “Sure, Chill's a grade-A screwup but if you think you're any better, you've got another thing coming. You've been sniping at each other over that for months and I'm just sick of the pair of you. Course, I thought there was at least one mare I could rely on, but...” she glanced pointedly at High Winds again.
The shorter mare flinched at the barb. “Oh, for crying out loud, Flatfoot – I told you...”
“ENOUGH!”
The four arguing ponies cringed at the deafening cry and turned to Spitfire, only to receive such a furious glare every one of them seemed to shrink into themselves. It was as if all their anger had withered into nothing out of sheer inadequacy compared to their captain's fury.
“I asked for a simple report – just what went wrong, why it did and how it can be fixed. And yet you idiots decide it's a perfect time to give an impromptu performance of “Squabbling Foal Theatre”! It's pretty clear you all screwed up a little, it happens, but it's also clear this feud of yours is getting way out of hoof.” She glared particularly at Soarin and Wave Chill before her eyes caught the clock above the field.
A hoof raised to her forehead to try and rub away the incoming headache. Her mind briefly flashed to a small house miles away before she shook the image away. Come on, Spitfire, she thought to herself. This isn't that much worse than usual. You're not going to bother her over this. You've already decided you're going on Saturday. You can go a week without a visit, and you're going to prove it.
Spitfire sighed, hiding her thoughts beneath the irritation on her face – not a hard task, considering how vast it was – and waved a wing. “Look, hit the showers – I gotta go get ready to deal with the next batch of academy recruits. And about this bickering of yours, I'll say this – you've got a week to find some way of solving it yourselves. If not, then I'm gonna have to take matters into my own hooves. And you don't want me taking it into my own hooves, do you?”
“No, Captain Spitfire, Ma'am!” Soarin and Wave Chill said in unison, their voices so high and timid they sounded like they were trying to disguise themselves as foals to hide from their Captain's anger. For a split second, High Winds and Fleetfoot started to share a small laugh, their enmity forgotten, before a glance from Spitfire sent all mirth and stability fleeing.
“But...” Soarin spoke up, marginally less cowed than Wave Chill on account of being a little more used to Spitfire than anyone. “How...?”
“Oh, I'm confident you'll find a way,” Spitfire interrupted with a slow, menacing smile. “You just need the right motivation.”
“Or you could just oil up and get humping already,” Surprise called over from outside the small group. “I can't be the only one thinking it.”
“SHUT UP, SURPRISE!” the five ponies involved barked in unison. Spitfire pressed a hoof to her aching forehead. No, no, no – you can make it through today fine. Just fine!
“...and if any of you sorry load of horseapples are still here by the end of the week, my jaw's gonna fall all the way through the clouds and down to the ground, I promise you. But I'm feeling generous – if you still think you've got the right stuff for the Wonderbolts, I'll give you a chance to prove yourselves wrong.”
Spitfire strode up to the front of the cadets and looked down the line of them, scanning their expressions and postures. Almost all of them had one of the two reactions she expected and preferred from her opening speech – either their legs and back ramrod straight, staring straight ahead as they put their all into staying disciplined and stable in the face of her tirade, or attempting to look like that first group, but failing due to their shaking legs and trembling lips. Still, she kept looking, searching for that one...
There you are.
She marched down the line, both to get close to the pony she'd spotted and so she could continue to scan the line to the end – just because there was one potential problem cadet didn't mean there couldn't be more.
Once she was satisfied there was only one she had to worry about, she turned to look closely at the stallion in question. He was also trying to stay in the appropriate position, but the relaxation in his posture and the small smile that his mouth seemed to naturally fall into broadcast his attitude clearly to Spitfire's trained eye. Either he'd not really been paying attention to what she'd been saying or he'd simply filed it away into ‘things for the less amazing ponies to worry about’, and Spitfire would bet her primaries it was the latter.
She glared at him through her shades. “What about you, Cadet? You think you're hot stuff?”
“No, ma'am,” he replied evenly, but it was clear even to the other cadets that he didn't mean it, if the hints of groans she heard were any indication. He said it partially because he knew you weren't supposed to talk back to the captain and partially as a subtle humble-brag.
Spitfire snorted. “Well, good. Once you're dashing outta here to go cry under your bed, wouldn't want it to be too surprising, would w-?”
A tiny, almost imperceptible snort from the pony in front of her registered in her ears, cutting her off. It was hard to mistake the beginning of a laugh and, judging by the smirk still on his face, it was out of derision.
“Something funny, Cadet?” she asked, raising a challenging eyebrow.
“Er, no, ma'am,” he asked, the smirk finally leaving as he recognized his slip-up.
“Oh? Cause I'm positive I just heard a laugh there. You in the habit of just snorting and laughing for no reason, cadet?” She paused for a moment, gauging his reaction.
Judging by the way he straightened himself up and allowed his face to fall back into cockiness, there was no point letting him answer. As such, she held a hoof up. “Let me guess, you thought that because you're just so good, so fast and skilled, such a prodigy, you could just stroll your way through training, fly your way up the ranks at sonic speeds and be in the main team by the end of the year, all without having to worry about the effort and care the lesser pegasi'd have to take, right?”
The fact that his reaction wasn't nearly as stunned as it should have been was not a good sign.
Spitfire pressed her face close to his. “And just what made you think that was gonna happen, huh?”
“Er, Rai- nothing, ma'am!” he barked out, finally beginning to sweat. However, Spitfire barely noticed, having to put all her effort into keeping her eye from twitching as she recognized what he'd stopped himself from saying.
Rainbow Dash. It was certainly true that her rise within the 'Bolts was extraordinary... but Spitfire had witnessed firsthoof the effort – the blood, sweat and tears, sometimes literally, she'd put in. Spitfire had done everything she could to test the limits of that mare's determination and she'd pushed through every time.
And yet, it seemed like with every new batch of recruits, there was at least one who thought that her story meant that any smug amateur with a decent 100-metres time could saunter up the ranks without breaking stride.
Still, that was only part of what had gotten under her skin about the reference. Though she'd never give any hint about it to anyone she didn't know damn well, let alone a cadet... she screwed up when it came to dealing with Rainbow Dash. Twice. First she'd nearly lost her as a candidate in favour of a reckless lunatic, then she'd seen her only as a way of winning instead of questioning whether she could or should join them. And while she didn't truly want to forget about those incidents, else she knew she'd never learn from them, she really didn't like being reminded about them, least of all by a rookie like this.
Despite that, she steeled herself, filing at least the latter bit of irritation away – he had no way of knowing about that. However, this stallion's attitude did need fixing.
So she took in a deep breath, pulled off her sunglasses and looked him in the eye, her mouth rising into a sadistic grin. “Okay, hot shot. Here's the deal. Normally, I'd start training off with five hundred laps but, just for fun, you and you alone can give me an extra hundred. If you can do that without coming last... well, you won't have broken any records, but it'll mean there might be something to you. Otherwise... well, we'll just have to see, won't we?”
The stallion flinched back. “You ca-” he started before cutting himself off.
Not that it did him any good. “I can't?” Spitfire asked, her grin sharpening. “Oh, I can, I just did, and I will for as long as I like. So, if I were you, I'd drop that ego a few notches so I don't have to, clear?”
She took his wide eyes and quivering throat to mean 'yes'.
That done, she turned to the rest of the cadets, raising an eyebrow at their nervous expressions.
“Well? Did I stutter? Five hundred laps – get to it!”
As one, the group shot off like they'd been fired out of a catapult. Once they were away and out of earshot, Spitfire heaved a growling sigh, her previously suppressed irritation flooding back into her mind. It's okay, it's okay. No need for a visit, this is good.
Okay, just fifty-three more to go, Spitfire thought as she reached over and tapped the clicker counter at the corner of her desk, sending the number display down one before she put the finished form into her outgoing tray. Should be done by nine, at the latest. She occasionally wondered if the time she spent updating the counter, momentary though each individual click was, was time that it would be better for her not to waste. However, it never took her long to remember how hellishly interminable her paperwork had always been before she got it, as opposed to now when it was only miserably interminable. Even if it did use a bit of time, it made things feel like they went a lot quicker and it certainly helped maintain her ever-dwindling sanity.
“Hey, Cap,” she heard Soarin say from her office's doorway, her second-in-command speaking a moment before he thought to actually knock on the open door. “Got the papers you wanted me to deal with.”
Oh, thank Celestia! Spitfire raised her head and blinked heavily, happy for even a brief distraction. “Great, Clipper – bring 'em over here.”
“Sure thing,” Soarin said as he entered the office proper and placed a small sheaf of paper on the desk. Spitfire briefly wondered whether most people would consider the stack small or not, as her own standards of size for paperwork were... a bit skewed. She was soon interrupted by Soarin asking, “You wanna take a quick look through them, make sure I did 'em right?”
“Mm-hm,” Spitfire replied absently, her eyes having started scanning the pages in front of her long before he'd finished asking the question. Her gaze flashed quickly across every word written, checking for any errors or problems with a long-practised speed. She did have to stop herself from purposely taking longer than necessary simply because even reading forms was a welcome break from filling them in, but it wasn't a hard impulse to suppress.
After a minute or so, she nodded. “Huh. Yeah, this is... this is pretty good work.”
“I know, I was as surprised as you,” Soarin said with a slight laugh. “I mean, I'm happy to help with this stuff, but, to be honest, when you brought it up, I thought you were going nuts. More than usual, anyway.”
Spitfire looked up from the paper with a sharply raised eyebrow, but it didn't seem to bother Soarin – right now, even if they were technically on duty, it wasn't the same as it was when they were doing drills or practice. There was no shouting, no glares, just two ponies trying to figure out how to proceed.
“I mean, you know me – I can barely keep track of my uniform half the time,” Soarin said with a wry smile. “Trusting someone like me with forms and reports? Really? But, yeah, turns out it wasn't nearly as hard as I thought. Just have to put a bit of thought into it and gets done real quick.”
“Who'd have guessed?” Spitfire asked, her eyebrow remaining up.
“Yeah, I know,” Soarin replied, seeing the humour in the remark even as Spitfire had trouble doing so. “By the way, Cap, about this morning? The stuff with me and Wave Chi-”
“If it's an apology, save it,” Spitfire said, though the weary calm in her voice made clear it wasn't an angry interruption. “As long as you figure out how to get past it so it doesn't keep being a problem, that'll be more than good enough for me. And I'd rather you put your thought and energy into that than into how to make me less mad.”
“Well, it's not like ponykind's discovered anything that could achieve that,” Soarin joked, not seeming to notice Spitfire's hoof slipping into the top drawer of her desk. “And, yeah, we're... working on it. I'm hoping we can get things sorted before... well, anyway, you want this in your out tray?”
“Uh huh,” Spitfire waved at the tray in question, about to return to the form she'd left before a startled snort drew her attention back to Soarin.
“That's your out tray?!” He asked, staring in astonishment at the tower of paper rising out of the plastic box. “Guess ‘in’ the out tray's not really how it works, huh? You sure you don't want me to take a bit more of this stuff off your hooves?”
Spitfire sighed. “Baby steps, Clipper – we'll get there if and when we get there. For the moment, we'll keep going at the pace we are and see where things get to be a problem. But believe me,” she nodded as he carefully balanced the completed forms atop the pile before turning to leave, “even this many being taken off my hooves is a blessing. Thanks, Soarin.”
Soarin paused his exit mid-step and looked back at Spitfire. “Thanks? You're saying thanks? Where've you stashed Spitfire, changeling?”
Spitfire levelled an unamused glare at him.
Immediately, Soarin raised his hooves defensively, having to spread his wings to keep up the awkward posture for a moment. “Yep, okay, never mind, it's definitely you, Spits. Well, you're welcome, anyway. See you tomorrow.”
Spitfire looked out after him for a moment, unsure how to take his remarks. After a moment, though, she shook her head – however she should take them, it wouldn't get this work done any faster. She glanced over at the counter and blinked in confusion.
Fifty-three? Was... was it that many before? I don't... never mind.
She growled and went to pick up her pen again, only to realise that her hoof was still in her desk drawer. For a moment, she was confused, before she felt the material beneath her hoof and remembered what she kept in that drawer. She sometimes wondered if she shouldn't find a more hidden place for it, but she doubted it was a problem – the others might be a little surprised to find a vest in one of her desk drawers, but it wouldn't seem particularly suspicious. And the garment itself looked perfectly ordinary – there was no way for them to know who gave it to her, what would happen when she put it on or how she'd always do so before visiting...
No! Spitfire yanked her hoof out of the drawer sharply, snorting. No, you've been over this. Saturday! You're seeing her on Saturday! That'll be...She blinked for a moment, shocked at herself before carefully, almost reverently opening the drawer and straightening out the vest, making sure it didn't get creased or scuffed. That'll be fine. I can get through the next few days, no problem. Her eyes caught the counter again. Fifty-three more forms and the next few days. I can do this. I don't need to go back to her so soon. I'm not going to go back to her so soon.
I shouldn't be going back to her so soon. Why am I going back to her so soon? A hoof tapped against the ground in front of the small cottage's doorstep. Every so often, its owner would raise it to knock, only to lower it as she questioned herself again. Come on, she's not gonna have time for this and if you don't need it, she shouldn't have to make time for it.
If one were to look at the front of Fluttershy's house, there would seem almost nothing notable or unusual about the cornflower blue pegasus currently dithering on the door stoop. The only even mildly odd things were the yellow vest she wore – while the winter night was a little chilly, even for a pegasus used to high-altitude temperatures, the vest didn't look especially warming and didn't cover enough to be practical for that purpose – and the flowers tucked under her wing. And even with the latter, it wouldn't be unusual for someone to be considering asking Fluttershy out, it simply would have seemed unlikely that they would proceed and inconceivable that Fluttershy wouldn't drop dead of embarrassment on the spot. That that point had been passed long ago and these were flowers given within a relationship rather than to start one would have been absurd to suggest.
Furthermore, even if one were to already know that the vest contained a potent bit of illusion magic and that the mare was under a disguise spell, the idea that the nervous, jittering pony currently floundering in front of Fluttershy's door was the famously confident, assertive and... vocal Captain Spitfire of the Wonderbolts would have seemed absolutely comical. Even her own close friends and teammates – those who knew both the face she showed the world and a fair bit of the one she kept hidden – would most likely be astonished to think of it. It would probably be less of a stretch to think it was Princess Luna under the disguise.
And yet, here Spitfire was, shifting uncomfortably within the exceedingly comfortable vest, hesitating in front of the door as if she was afraid it might bite her hoof off.
Come on, this has gone on way longer than is healthy. She sighed, lifting her hoof. Just leave it, you can get back to barracks in half an hour – a bit of sleep'll do you just fine. She pointedly ignored any thoughts about how restless that sleep would be. There's no point standing here if you're not going to...
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!
Spitfire blinked for a moment before looking down – she was positive she hadn't just knocked on the door. Sure enough, her hoof was still there, hovering in front of the door. However, as she stared at it, a small patch of white at the corner of her vision drew attention to the reason for the discrepancy.
Standing there, glaring up at her, was a small white rabbit. Once he saw she was looking at him, he gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes and threw his paws up in the air, letting her know just how tiresome and exasperating her hesitation was. That established, he quickly turned and hopped back into the bushes around the house, not even pausing long enough to let Spitfire thank or threaten him for making her decision for her. Which was good, as she still wasn't sure which she'd have gone with.
Admittedly, there would be no lasting damage from it and little chance of lasting improvement either. Spitfire and Angel Bunny had a kind of tense accord between them – neither was especially fond of the other, but both were acutely aware of just how much Fluttershy cared for them, even if they had no idea why. As such, while there was no real fondness there, they tried not to cause too many problems for each other and would even help each other if, and only if, they thought it would be good for Fluttershy.
Spitfire didn't have long to consider this, however, before the door to the cottage opened and the lovely mare in question looked out at her.
It was a cliché to describe a mare's beauty as being more “natural” than the various celebrities and supermodels Spitfire typically found herself around. In fact, attempting to make one's beauty look totally natural was generally the practice for most of those in the public eye, such that someone trying to look simultaneously scruffy and handsome was a sure sign of someone who was truly neither.
And yet, there was something Spitfire couldn't quite put her hoof on that made Fluttershy truly feel special in that regard. Maybe it was the gentleness and, in many cases, nervousness in her expression that conveyed just how far such things were from her mind. Maybe it was the faint, not-offensive-but-fairly-noticeable smell she and her house gave off that spoke of one who spent most of their time caring for animals, with all the mess and... unpleasantness that entailed. Or maybe it was just the fact that Spitfire knew her, and knew just how little she cared about keeping up appearances beyond a basic level of presentability, making it astonishing how effortless looking beautiful was for her. Whatever the reason for it was, however, it didn't change the fact of it and, every time she saw her, Spitfire couldn't help but thank her lucky stars she'd met someone so graceful and adorable.
This wonderful feeling only increased when Fluttershy's face lit up upon seeing her. “Oh, Sp- er, Miss Beach Comber. Oh! Um, that is, Beach Comber. Come in, please!” She stepped aside and gestured for her to enter.
Spitfire sighed with an endeared smile as she entered, Fluttershy closing the door behind her. That done, she quickly flitted around the room, drawing all the curtains closed while Spitfire undid the vest's buttons. As soon as Fluttershy was finished, Spitfire shrugged off her clothing, a flash of magic returning her to her true form.
“I'm sorry,” Fluttershy said as she landed in front of Spitfire. “I don't think I'll ever get used to calling you that.”
Spitfire chuckled, simultaneously thinking about how she was the one who should have been apologising and wondering why she'd hesitated about knocking for so long. Still, she waved the apology away with a hoof. “It's fine, Shy. If I wanted a marefriend who was a master of lying, I'd be dating a politician. Believe me, there've been enough who asked.”
Fluttershy giggled for a moment before looking away. “Still... I mean, you're nice enough to disguise yourself just so I don't have to worry about drawing attention. The least I can do is...”
Spitfire put a hoof against her mouth gently, her smile reassuring her that the interruption wasn't out of annoyance, just not needing to hear the rest. “No, the least you can do is just be yourself, and that's more than enough for me.”
Fluttershy blushed as Spitfire lowered her hoof, before catching sight of something to Spitfire's side. “Oh, are those for me? Oh, you didn't have to...”
Spitfire blinked, having totally forgotten about the bouquet she'd been holding. “Oh! Oh, well, I kinda did. I mean, I was going to give them on Saturday but...” she drew a sharp breath in through her teeth, “well, I figured, since I'm the one who’s barging in on you, you really deserved something a little bit extra.” She took the bouquet in a hoof and held them out to Fluttershy.
The pink-haired mare gave her a slightly disapproving look even as the hints of a smile poked onto her face. “You're not “barging in”, Spitfire, and you know I never need anything special to want to see you. But... thank you.” She took the flowers from her before leaning in to give her marefriend a kiss on the cheek. That done, she flew off to one of her windows to put them in a vase while Spitfire hung around the door, taking a moment to let her nerves dissipate in the calm cottage.
“To be honest,” Fluttershy said, her voice carrying easily through the house despite the lack of force behind it, “I... well, I mean... you're never going to be a bother to me, I hope you know that...”
“I guess,” Spitfire replied, rubbing the back of her neck with a wing. “It's just... hard not to feel like it, you know?”
A delightfully musical giggle echoed through the hall as Fluttershy flew back to her. “Oh, I know what that's like. But it's true. And if I'm ever busy... which is, um... kind of rare... well, I know you'll understand and I promise I'll tell you. But anyway, things have been pretty quiet recently. It's winter and a lot of my little friends are hibernating, so things have been... well, quiet.” She winced at the repetition as she landed, prompting Spitfire to lean in for a neck-hug. “So, I'm... very happy to have you here... keeping me company,” she finished, relaxing into the embrace.
They stood there for a moment, neither moving, just letting the moment breathe as Spitfire's neck rested on Fluttershy's long, soft mane and her shorter hair tickled Fluttershy's ears gently.
After a few seconds, though, Fluttershy pulled away. “So, um,” she began, slowly brushing her mane out of her face and behind her ear, “was this just a normal visit... well, I mean, it's never 'just' a visit from you, it always means more to me than just... I mean, were you just planning to spend an evening here or did you want us to...” her eyes darted towards the staircase leading to the cottage's upper floor and her bedroom.
Spitfire took a deep breath, having to fight hard to keep herself from grimacing with discomfort. As much as she adored Fluttershy, it was sometimes hard to talk to somepony who was so quick to read expressions and body language and even quicker to take them in the most self-effacing way possible. Still, she swallowed and spoke. “Well, I mean... I wasn't expecting it, I'm sure as Sun not going to demand it, but... I was kinda hoping. But if you're not feeling up for it...”
“Oh, no, I... I think I'd like that. I just wanted to know so... well, I'd know, I guess.” She shook her head for a moment, her eyes closed before they rocketed open the instant she heard Spitfire take a step. “Um, aren't we forgetting something?”
“Oh... right...” Spitfire awkwardly picked up the single hoof she'd moved and rooted it to the spot once more. “Er... are you sure about this?”
Fluttershy gave a small sigh as she looked at her marefriend, though at that moment she seemed more like a gently disapproving kindergarten teacher than anything. “Now, Spitfire, you know the rules: no repression past the doormat.” She glanced down to the mat beneath Spitfire's hooves.
“I know, I know,” Spitfire nodded, a hindhoof scuffing gently against the mat. “It's just... it always feels... kinda wrong to let it all out like this.”
“It'll only feel wrong until you start,” Fluttershy reminded her, putting a hoof lightly on her shoulder. “And I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want it to happen. You don't have to worry about bothering me and we both know you'll never offend me. So, just... let it all out.”
Spitfire let out an affirmative hum, allowing a brief grimace at a point she knew Fluttershy wouldn't take it as directed at her.
There was a moment's silence as Fluttershy stepped back, her eyes briefly scanning the area around her door, making sure there wasn't anything fragile in the area. At least, nothing physical – the silence seemed incredibly brittle at that moment. However, after taking a second to allow Spitfire to prepare, she spoke:
“So, how was your day?”
Spitfire let out a long, steady breath before her mouth opened. “Oh... sweet... mother of CELESTIA, my day! I don't even know how to... dealing with my team is just... I mean, I'd say it's like herding cats sometimes, but I've seen you herd cats! Doesn't even come close to the level of chaos they can shove in my face. I mean, they're damn good at their jobs, but I swear, it's like so much of their brains are dedicated to flying, there's none left to tell 'em how to act like functioning adults! I mean, they can get on my nerves at the best of times, but right now, Soarin and Wave Chill – you know, a senior 'Bolt and my second-in-damned-COMMAND – have this stupid, petty...”
And so, Spitfire just ranted, her forehooves and wings gesturing around wildly as if she was trying to visually represent how annoyed she was and failing due to lacking several miles of reach. She went on for minutes and minutes on end, just letting everything out – all the vein-twisting aggravations, all the slow-burning burdens, all the tiny, technically-insignificant-but-always-infuriating moments of irritation that had been pinching at the edge of her brain. It all came flooding out in a formless, unceasing torrent. Even the parts she wasn't comfortable voicing to herself weren't spared, assuming they even could be filtered out given the momentum she had. And through it all...
“...and look, yeah, I get it, I screwed up... royally when it came to Rainbow Dash... twice, but do I have to keep getting... I mean, I know it's stupid, both wanting to remember and learn from it and not wanting to get reminded of it, but still...”
“It's not stupid at all,” Fluttershy said, her gentle interruption halting the flow easier than the loudest shout could from anyone else. “We do need to remember the things we did wrong, but... but it still hurts. That's how we know it's working. And you don't have to remember it all the time, so getting reminded... it isn't nice.” She said with a small smile, looking apologetic at not being able to word it better.
Spitfire barely noticed, however, just nodding along. “Exactly – it's not like he needed to rub it in my face. And, yeah, I know he didn't mean to, but it still...”
Through it all, Fluttershy listened. She truly listened. She didn't simply tune out of the conversation, if it could truly be called that, nor did she ever seem like there was anywhere she'd rather be. Occasionally, she would interject, but never with anything but gentle encouragement, both for Spitfire to get all her anger out and for her to not feel ashamed of herself, and never with any intent of stopping the diatribe for more than a short moment. But mostly, she just listened.
And even as she let her frustration gush out of her, Spitfire knew that she was being heard, that she wasn't being judged and that nothing she could say would distress or disturb her marefriend. Not that Spitfire thought there was anything truly hurtful or belittling one could say about Fluttershy and she wasn't about to go looking, but she knew that Fluttershy knew that her apparent rage wasn't any kind of deep-seated hatred burning inside her. It was simply somepony who was under a lot of pressure a lot of the time allowing herself a short period of cathartic release.
And, at the back of her mind, she couldn't help but recall the first time the two of them had truly met.
Spitfire trudged slowly through the halls of Wonderbolts HQ, the steady, rasping growl emanating from her throat the only indication of the smouldering rage inside her. Her hoofsteps were steady – rather overly so, in fact, due to how hard she was having to concentrate on not stamping on the ground with every pace as if she were trying to break through to the floor below.
Not that she didn't think she had every reason to be pissed. The latest intake to the academy had resulted in what had been termed a Lightning Dust situation – a cadet clearly showing a willingness, if not eagerness, to cause problems for other flyers or even put them in danger just to get ahead and make themselves look good. After the incident that gave this scenario its name, Spitfire had sworn not to make the same mistake again. As such, when one cadet had ploughed through three pegasi, nearly sending one crashing into a wall, without even looking back, she made it very clear to the reckless idiot in question that that sort of callous disregard would not be tolerated. The Wonderbolts were a team and it didn't matter how good a flyer was on their own, if they couldn't work with others, they had no place in the academy.
As it turned out, the showboat in question hadn't exactly taken it well and started a huge brawl in the locker room after training was over. Not only that, but when Spitfire and the security ponies came in to break it up, he was so proud to be the only one without a significant injury that would put them out of action for a few days that he couldn't seem to understand why he wasn't being congratulated.
Now, Spitfire stood by what she'd said to the stallion after the initial confrontation and did not for a moment think she was responsible for the incident, but that didn't change how much of a headache it was going to be to deal with. And to top it all off, she didn't even get to throw the despicable egomaniac out herself, as she was going to need all the time she could get in order to deal with the aftermath. She would just have to content herself with remembering the angry mumblings she'd heard from him as he'd been dragged away – something about washouts, which Spitfire totally agreed was an appropriate term.
So, yes, Spitfire was in an extremely bad mood. However, this wasn't anything close to the first time this had happened and she'd gotten extremely used to functioning while furious. As such, when she turned the corner and found herself going towards a head-on collision with another mare, her reflexes were quick enough that she could dart out of the way, only allowing a few of the uppermost pages of the forms she was carrying to fly out of her hooves.
The other mare, on the other hand, was having a much harder time of it even after there was no longer a danger, scrabbling her hooves underneath her to try and keep steady and raising her wings sharply to prevent the box on her back from falling. After a moment, though, she got herself to a relatively stable position.
However, as she began speaking, it seemed as if all of the shakiness had simply transferred to her voice. “Oh my... Oh, I'm so, so sorry, I didn't see... Oh my goodness, these papers are all...” she put the box down and dived down to collect the few loose pages before Spitfire could even truly react. “I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was goin- well, I was looking where I was going but I was focused on where I'd go to next and not where I was going to now and I should have... I got lost and I was going to ask someone where the bedrooms are but I didn't want to bother them and I just...”
“Woah, woah! Calm down,” Spitfire said quickly, her anger momentarily lost amidst the torrent of apologies. “It's alright, no harm done.” She leaned down and picked up all the papers the mare had missed... which, given how flustered she was, had been most of them. “Ponies get lost here all the time. The be-” She stopped suddenly, thinking over what the mare had said. “The bedrooms? You mean the barracks, right?”
“Oh! Is that what they're called? I'm sorry, I didn't know, I-”
Spitfire held up a hoof to stop another round of desperate contrition while her other hoof rubbed at her forehead. Terrific, she thought, to top it all off, we've got a civilian wandering around unaccompanied. Still, she shook her head quickly, reminding herself that she wasn't angry at the mare in front of her. “It's okay, Miss, if you didn't know, you didn't know. Anyway, what are y-” she stopped herself again, wary of making any question sound too accusatory considering this pony's obvious nerves. “Er, what's the purpose of your visit, Miss...”
“Oh... oh, well, I'm...” The mare looked away, seeming to try and hide behind her mane as her voice lowered to inaudibility.
Spitfire sighed in her head, even as she put on an indulgent beam for the mare. “Hey, it's alright. I don't bite, I promise.” Her mouth quirked up a little as she remembered how several rumours among the trainees said otherwise.
Admittedly, while she had technically denied the rumour, perhaps telling the cadets that she wouldn't eat them solely because ponies so pathetic would barely be a snack... hadn't helped as much as it could.
The mare nodded, seeming to take a moment to gather her nerve before speaking. “My name's Fluttershy. And, um,” she continued, not seeming to notice Spitfire's brow furrowing, the name sounding familiar, “I'm a friend of Rainbow Dash and, well, when she came here yesterday for the training period, she forgot something and asked if I could bring it over as soon as possible since it's kind of personal and a little bit urgent so I couldn't really post it, so...”
“Okay, understood,” Spitfire said once it seemed the explanation was finished and that Fluttershy was simply continuing because it felt too awkward to stop. The mention of Rainbow Dash had twigged her memory about the times she'd heard her talk about her friends. Still, a moment's thought prevented her from acknowledging it out loud as, while it was awkward, there was something that needed to be established first. “Listen, I'm sorry to have to ask you this, I promise it's not because of anything you've said, but... well, this is technically a secure building – do you have any ID or something to back up your story? Aside from whatever's in the box, I mean,” she quickly added, wary of opening any box that she didn't know the contents of.
“Oh! Oh, yes, I have the letter she sent me,” Fluttershy nodded, quickly pulling out a rough note and giving it to her.
Spitfire scanned over the letter quickly. The hoofwriting was distinctly messy, but that was by no means a rare phenomenon in the academy – it had taken a long time for Spitfire's writing to get to a point where she could read it consistently. What was distinctive enough to verify Fluttershy's story was the signature – a massive exhibit of a name at least twice the size of any of the rest of the writing and where the last letter trailed off it a looping series of underlinings – five rows of decreasing size. This was the signature of somepony who wanted you to know exactly who was signing it. Spitfire had thought about bringing up how much of a pain that signature would be during long autograph signing sessions, but was wary of feeding Dash's ego any more than necessary.
Her eyes briefly flicked over the rest of the letter, noting how the section that said what the item to be delivered was had been torn carefully out, before handing it back. “Okay, looks good. But... well, I'm guessing you showed that to the guards out front?” Fluttershy nodded, prompting Spitfire to continue. “So, why didn't they call for an escort? As you probably noticed, this place can be a bit confusing if you're not used to it.” Also, a civilian wandering around without an escort was always risky, but Spitfire didn't feel it necessary to point that out.
Fluttershy swallowed nervously. “Oh, they did, but... well, we heard a big noise that kind of sounded like a fight and he said he had to go check it out and pointed me to where I needed to go but I kind of panicked and hid and couldn't tell where I was or I'd been or was supposed to go and...”
“Oh, of course that stupid scuffle was going to screw with you too!” Spitfire growled, her tail flicking violently as she felt her headache reassert itself. “Well, if it helps, the moron who started it's been tossed out,” she tried to give the mare a smirk, though she got the feeling it wasn't the most encouraging considering how hard she was wishing that said tossing out could have been done by trebuchet. “So, what's in the box?”
Fluttershy opened her mouth before Spitfire held up a hoof to cut her off. “Actually, forget I asked – I've got enough troubles with my fliers on duty, I do not need to get caught up in what they do on their own time. Long as it's not a bomb, a bio attack or a blight spell, I'm about half past caring.”
She turned to leave, beginning to look down to sort out the papers in her hooves, when she heard a small, quiet but strangely insistent question:
“Are you okay?”
Spitfire was caught off-guard for a fraction of a second before her instincts kicked in and she turned her head to give Fluttershy the smirk that always satisfied the cameras and newspapers. “I'm fine. Dash's barracks are just down this hall – follow it to the end, take a left and it's the third on your right.”
“Oh, um, thank you, but... well,” Fluttershy shuffled her hooves for a moment before giving a beseeching look to Spitfire, “are you sure you're okay?”
Spitfire sighed, turning to walk away a little forcefully, if only to avoid getting caught up in that soulful stare. “I said I'm fine, didn't I?” she asked, feeling the veins on her forehead throb.
“Well, yes, you did, but, um,” Fluttershy replied, making Spitfire's first step away stop mid-stride, “well, I hope I'm not imagining things or seeing things I shouldn't but, well, you seem kind of... upset.”
Spitfire stood there for a moment, lowering her hoof to the ground as she blinked. Within her mind, something... went away. It wouldn't be accurate to say something 'snapped', as it was neither sudden nor violent. But something, something she couldn't quite put a hoof on, something holding something back just... wasn't there any more. Slowly, calmly, she took a deep breath before...
“Upset?” she began quietly. “Just what it all of TARTARUS do I have to be upset about?!” she stomped on the ground as her sudden tirade picked up speed. “I mean, sure, some egocentric pile of cowpies decided to start a brawl and knock half my trainees right into the infirmary, so I've gotta figure out how shift the schedules for the next week and how to keep things open to take however long it takes them to get flying again without just losing the whole batch of them and fit all that around the stuff with all the other main and reserve bolts, plus fill out a bunch of incident reports – along with reports about why the guards are out a few bruises, my cadets are out a few days and the dolt's out on his rump, cause it's not like all those are totally redundant or anything – but why should I mind any of that? I mean, that is what they put on the posters, isn't it? 'Be a Wonderbolt and you can deal with more bullcrap than a farm fed on prunes! With a lot of work, you can become captain and spend more time filling in forms than flying!' That's every pegasus's dream and totally not a wide-awake nightmare that'll make you wanna SCREAM!”
For a moment, Spitfire just stood there, her breathing heavy and ragged as she let her thoughts slow back down.
Then her eyes widened as what she'd just done occurred to her, the realisation crashing down on her in one, giant, sickening wave. Captain Spitfire of the Wonderbolts, the face of the team, the mare who needed at all times to embody the dignity, discipline and brilliance that defined the exemplars and role models to most of the pegasi in Equestria... had just thrown a temper tantrum in front of an innocent mare. She'd ranted at a civilian whose only connection to the 'Bolts was through a friend... a friend who Spitfire was just remembering certain conversations with... conversations that were where she'd heard the name Fluttershy... and were about how timid, nervous and easily spooked her friend was. Couldn't have remembered that a few minutes earlier, could you, Spit-For-Brains?! she sneered at herself in her head.
After a moment, though, she shook off the self-recrimination – there'd be time for that later. Right now, she needed to figure out some way of doing damage control. She turned around, opening her mouth in the hopes that she'd figure out something to say when she was done... only to be rendered dumbstruck by what she saw.
All of the fear, disgust or hurt she was expecting was nowhere to be seen. There was no curling into a ball or spreading her wings in an instinctive, flight or definitely-flight response. Instead, Fluttershy was just looking at her, her mouth hanging open in astonishment and her hoof hovering just in front of it. Her eyes were wide and a slight glistening suggested that while she wasn't on the verge of tears, she was definitely in the general area of them, but her huge pupils and the gaze that was focused entirely on Spitfire made it clear it wasn't herself she was sad for. After a moment, a tiny whisper slipped out of her mouth.
“Oh... oh, you poor mare...”
In almost any other context, Spitfire could imagine, that phrase would have sounded pitying, even patronising, but... the sheer, unmistakable sincerity and sympathy on Fluttershy's face made such a thing seem just impossible.
Nothing more was said for a moment, as Fluttershy just stood silent and Spitfire was still digesting what she was seeing, too dumbfounded to even move. But even without words, Spitfire somehow knew what was happening between them.
Fluttershy had listened to her, listened to her whining like a petulant filly... and she had truly, impossibly... understood. She understood what she was feeling, what she was going through, and, despite the fact that they'd only just met and the only way Fluttershy could have known Spitfire was as an icon and celebrity... she cared.
For a couple of seconds, Spitfire just let that sink in, totally unused to being caught off-guard like this, before she felt her mouth moving automatically. “I'm sorry, I...” she trailed off as she saw Fluttershy gently shake her head.
“Why? You don't have anything to be sorry for.” Fluttershy assured her.
For the first time in a while, Spitfire's face moved as she tilted her head and felt an expression of confused contrition assert itself. “Really? I mean, I really don't think I should just be unloading all my problems onto a complete stranger like this?”
Fluttershy thought for a moment. “Well, do you have anyone you can unload some of them on or... at least relieve some of them with?”
Spitfire was silent, knowing that that silence would answer the question, but unable to think of a better answer.
Fluttershy nodded. “I... I know there's not much I can do to help... I wish there was, you... you really should have some more help, but... well, if it would help for me to listen... If that'd make you feel better, then that's what I'm going to do. Do you feel better?”
Spitfire furrowed her brow as she thought, finding that... “Huh. Yeah... a little bit. How... how did you do that?” she asked, aware how silly the question sounded but unable to keep herself from asking.
Fluttershy shrugged. “I just listened.”
There was a short pause as Spitfire tried to both understand what had just happened and get her thoughts back in order from the jumbled clutter they'd been thrown into.
After a moment, Fluttershy cleared her throat awkwardly. “So, you said third on the right?”
“Hm? Oh, yeah, yeah, Dash should be there right now,” Spitfire nodded, finally feeling like she was back in a coherent headspace. She watched as Fluttershy nodded and mumbled her thanks before turning to head towards the barracks.
“Hey, Fluttershy?”
Spitfire felt as surprised as Fluttershy was by her call and, as the little pegasus's head turned in response to her name, Spitfire continued, not really sure what she was going to say but not feeling able or willing to stop herself.
“Listen, I'm gonna be busy the rest of the day and I'm sure you've got a whole lotta stuff to do, but... well, if you're ever back in the area, maybe you could drop by my office? I'll tell the guards to let you in, we can have tea, coffee or booze, your choice, and maybe I can find some way to make things up to you? You know, for bothering you with my problems like that.”
Fluttershy's eyes widened slightly and her tail began swishing nervously, her quivering throat making clear just how nervous she was at the sudden invitation of a mare who, despite that moment of rapport, was still very much a stranger. After a second, though, her body settled down and she nodded. “I think I'd like that. I'll, um... I'll see you then.”
And, with a wave, Fluttershy walked away, turning a corner and going out of sight. A brief, bewildered laugh shot out of Spitfire's mouth before she too turned and made her way through the corridor, heading towards her office.
At some point in the journey, she started flying instead of walking. She wasn't sure when that had happened, but she didn't feel like landing.
“...till by the end I could barely read the damn forms, let alone fill 'em in right. It's just lucky I could navigate my way here blindfold – if those stupid things had got me lost and meant I had to miss this evening...”
“I'd hate it if that were to happen, but they didn't,” Fluttershy assured her, “and they can't, so you never have to worry about that.”
Spitfire hummed and nodded, letting out a short breath. She opened her mouth, taking in a breath to continue before pausing, nothing coming out. She searched for something else to say, but even before she finished and found nothing, she was already beginning to slump a little and take deep, clear breaths, aware that her frustrations had run dry.
Fluttershy smiled hopefully. “Is that everything?”
Spitfire thought for a few moments as the tension in the body bled out of her. “Yeah... yeah, I think that about covers it all.” She looked up at Fluttershy, who just gave her an encouraging nod.
Sighing in relief, Spitfire finally stepped into the cottage proper, feeling as if she was leaving Captain Spitfire of the Wonderbolts at the door – now, she was just Spitfire meeting her marefriend. This time, Flutttershy didn't stop her. Instead, she just stepped forward and opened her forehooves wide, allowing Spitfire to half-walk, half-fall into a hug.
“Do you feel better?” Fluttershy asked as she drew Spitfire in closer, her slightly straighter posture allowing her to lower Spitfire's head down into her chest.
Spitfire nodded, her fiery hair gently brushing against Fluttershy's chin, drawing a little laugh. After a moment, Spitfire gave a small chuckle herself. “I don't know why you ask, you know I always feel better. Tired, but better.”
With her head against her chest, Spitfire felt Fluttershy's giggle as much as she heard it. “Well, I guess I don't really need to ask. I just like hearing it.”
Spitfire smiled as the two stood there, motionless. Soon after they'd started dating, Fluttershy had told her she'd wanted to offer a hug during that first meeting, but it felt like it'd be too awkward. Fortunately, Spitfire agreed and was, in fact, immensely grateful she hadn't offered since, at the time, she'd have refused. Which in turn would mean, as soon as she found out what they were like, she'd hate herself forever for having missed a Fluttershy hug.
After a little while, Fluttershy spoke up. “So, do you want to go upstairs straight away, or would you like me to make us some tea?”
Spitfire thought for a moment before nodding into Fluttershy's chest. “I think I could go for some tea, if that's okay.”
“Okay,” Fluttershy pulled away gently and Spitfire just about managed to contain a disappointed mewl. “Please sit down, I'll be right out with that.”
As Fluttershy made her way to the kitchen, Spitfire walked over to the worn sofa and took a seat, taking a moment to appreciate the surroundings. It was odd – her office was always completely silent, largely plain and generally free from distractions, whereas Fluttershy's cottage, even in winter, was always full of some amount of animals scurrying around, playing or working. And yet, it was absolutely no contest which one felt calmer. After giving it some thought, Spitfire realised that while her office was silent, it was a tense kind of silence, like the moment of calm before the first thunderbolt strikes, while the cottage felt more like the time after the storm ends.
Soon enough, Fluttershy came floating back in, a tray in her hooves carrying two mugs and a few shortbread biscuits. As she hovered in, Spitfire couldn't help but be impressed how she flew smoothly enough to not even come close to spilling anything. As a professional flight trainer, Spitfire knew just what a task that was and how amazing it was for such grace to come naturally.
Fluttershy soon lowered herself down and put the tray on the small table in front of the couch. That done, she picked up her own mug and settled down herself, leaning back and snuggling her head into the crook of Spitfire's neck.
Spitfire smiled as she picked up her own mug and put a wing around her marefriend, happy that they were close enough in height to be able to switch out who was, for lack of a better word, 'dominant' in a hug any time they liked.
After a gentle sip, Spitfire spoke up. “So, how's your day been? Or, last few days, I guess.”
Fluttershy shrugged. “Oh, well, like I said, it'd been quiet mostly. Just keeping all my little friends fed and warm. Oh, although I did find Sir Quackington just the other day – the poor little guy had broken his wing and wasn't able to migrate with the other birds, so I'm taking care of him until he's all healed up.”
Spitfire smiled as she stroked Fluttershy's back with a hoof. “Do you think he'll be okay?”
“Oh, yes, it's just a small fracture, it shouldn't take long to heal. We'll just have to see if he'll be up to flying south on his own once it's all better. Without the rest of his skein to fly with, I might have to take him myself.”
“Hmm,” Spitfire squeezed Fluttershy a little tighter with her wing, a little unnerved at having her leave for so long. “If you're sure. I just wish...” she trailed off for a moment.
“I wish you could come with, too,” Fluttershy assured her, “but, well, 'Beach Comber' doesn't really much of a backstory, so we probably shouldn't use her more than we have to. Besides, you're already busy enough without having to drop everything to help me. I'll be okay, Spitfire, I promise.”
Spitfire nodded before speaking, hoping to change the subject. “Speaking of names, Shy, I was wondering... I mean, don't get me wrong, I like hearing you say my name... never thought “Spitfire” could sound delicate, but you make it work... but I was thinking it's still a bit of a mouthful. Do you ever want to shorten it a little?”
“Not really,” Fluttershy said, shrugging slightly against Spitfire's chest. “I mean, 'Spit' just sounds rude and 'Fire'... well, it just doesn't feel... complete. Like it's missing something of who you are. Besides, I'm, um... I'm not very good at coming up with names.”
Spitfire chuckled. “Says the mare who can name every animal larger than a baby mouse within five miles of here.”
“That's different,” Fluttershy insisted, even as she began to blush a little, “I don't usually come up with their names, I just translate them into something a pony can say.”
Spitfire raised an eyebrow, knowing that Fluttershy couldn't see it but still feeling the need to, and wondered exactly what 'Sir Quackington' translated to. For that matter, most people would probably assume that 'Angel' was not a name the little hellion would come up with himself. On the other hoof, Spitfire was a bit more educated and knew that while some angels had the stereotypical robes-and-harp image, others were terrifying, twisted amalgamations of wings, eyeballs and fire straight out of an eldritch horror novel. As such, that translation made perfect sense to her.
Still, she didn't say anything about that, just continuing to stroke Fluttershy gently. “Well, if you do ever come up with another name, don't worry about using it. I mean, it's not exactly shorter, but Little Miss Volcano might be kinda appropriate.”
Fluttershy shook her head. “Oh, I don't think that's fair.” One of her hooves raised up and started stroking the wing Spitfire had around her, drawing a hum from her marefriend. “We all have things we try to keep bottled up sometimes. If anything, you're just good at letting it out so it's not hurtful. Or, well,” her expression suggested that she thought about Spitfire's toughness with her subordinates around the same time Spitfire herself did, “at least so that it's constructive.”
“If you say so,” Spitfire said, doubtful but not willing to push the matter. “Well, if I am, it's only because I've got you to keep me from losing my mind.
“Well, I do say so!” Fluttershy said with an adorably faux-serious tone before giggling. “Um, to the first thing, the thing I said, not the other thing. Though...” she paused and Spitfire recognized the face she made when she was trying to figure out exactly how to say something so as not to either cause offence or get across her point unclearly, “well, please don't misunderstand, I'm always happy to listen to you and help you deal with all your stress and, um, I do think what we have definitely does that fine, but... well, before we met, before we started the... the whole thing... did you ever think about seeing a therapist?”
Spitfire let out a single, humming chuckle. “Yeah, that’d be the obvious answer, huh? Have to be a real bonehead not to think of that and just keep letting the stress eat away at your soul, wouldn'cha? So, anyway, I didn't think of that.” She couldn't help but smile as Fluttershy gave a disapproving look and a gentle shove at her self-deprecation. “Okay, being serious, it wasn't out of stupidity or even stubbornness. It's just... I really didn't think too much about the stress, to be honest. Or, at least, I didn't think of it in terms of whether or not I should have it or deal with it, just in terms of what was causing it. It's like... have you ever gotten so caught up... so used to... so into a way of doing things that it never even occurs to you there could be another way? Or so used to not feeling something that... well, you don't forget what it's like, but you just stop noticing it's gone and start mistaking other feelings for it?”
Fluttershy didn't answer, instead just putting her hooves on Spitfire's wing and holding it tightly and securely.
Spitfire nodded. “Yeah, it was... it wasn't till I really started getting to know you that, well...
“You're kidding?!” Spitfire said, her eyes widening as she put her coffee quickly down on her office desk, worried she might spill it.
Fluttershy shook her head, somehow doing so while taking a sip of her tea and not spilling a drop. “I wish I was – if I could come up with a character like Zephyr, I'd probably be a writer. No, he really was like that.”
Spitfire's gaze lost focus for a little, trying to imagine Fluttershy getting as irritated as she was describing, but quickly coming up empty. After a moment, she gave a short baffled laugh before taking a sip of coffee – black and without a single drop of whiskey in it, something Spitfire knew she shouldn't have felt proud of, but couldn't help it. “Wow. No wonder you weren't fazed when I unloaded all of my annoyances onto you.”
The two were sitting in Spitfire's office, chatting as they drank and Spitfire did some light paperwork – the kind that could be done while maintaining a conversation. This was their fourth meeting and in all but that initial one, Spitfire hadn't felt the need to go on such a tirade, something she did feel okay being proud of. Not that she hadn't done a bit of complaining, but only because Fluttershy had sincerely insisted she could and, even then, it was relatively tame, only concerned with the more petty and normal problems that came with captaincy. As such, there had been far more of an opportunity afterwards to talk and get to know each other, something Spitfire was more thankful for with each meeting with the remarkable mare before her.
Fluttershy nodded for a moment, although she pushed her mouth to the side a little, indicating she wasn't agreeing totally. “Well, yes, I did understand, but... well, I think that was you being frustrated, not annoyed.”
Spitfire tilted her head a little. “What's the difference?”
Fluttershy awkwardly rubbed her hindhooves together. “Well, it's sort of... hard to explain and it isn't really that much, but... well, I guess one thing is that getting annoyed is about... smaller things. To be honest, I probably shouldn't have gotten as mad as I did. I even, well, um... even dropped the... p-word.
Spitfire felt her jaw drop as she stared in astonishment. After a moment, she shook her head and blinked heavily. “Well, all I'll say is that if he could draw that from you, I don't wanna meet this guy.”
Fluttershy nodded, a slight blush coming onto her cheeks. “Well, you should hear what Rainbow Dash says about him.”
“If he's as persistent with her as you say he...” Spitfire trailed off, the thought sparking a brief journey into her memory. “Hang on, this brother of yours... is he green? Blonde mane? Looks like he spends eight hours every morning making himself look like he's been up all night?”
Fluttershy started slightly. “How did you... oh no, please don't tell me he's been stalking her.”
Spitfire shook her head quickly, hoping to get ahead of any worry. “No, no, nothing like that. Well, if he has, he's good enough at it that none of our guys have seen him... which I doubt anyone is. No, it's just one time he tried to get backstage at a show by saying he was her... er, her coltfriend? Fiancé? Eh, something like that, but no one was fooled and he got thrown out pretty quick. Don't even think Rainbow had a chance to notice him.”
Fluttershy sighed, though after a moment she got a slightly confused look on her face. “You can’t remember something like that?”
Spitfire shrugged. “Hey, cut me some slack, we're the Wonderbolts. We see that kinda thing three, four times a week. Only reason it stuck out at all is that it's almost always one of the main team that gets 'loved ones' dropping by. That's why I had to tell the guards you were the real thing.” Spitfire chuckled for a fraction of a second before what she'd said registered. “I mean... that you're really someone I know visiting, not, er...”
Fortunately, Spitfire was saved from further babbling, and Fluttershy from going even more red, by a knock on the office's door. The two took a moment to collect themselves before Spitfire said, “Come.”
“Captain Spitfire, ma'am!” Rainbow Dash said as she entered and stood to attention, snapping off a salute and fixing her eyes forward. “Wave Chill asked if you could come to the entrance, the dignitaries from Head Office are waiting for... Fluttershy?!”
“Um, hello,” Fluttershy gave a small wave, drawing a little chuckle from Spitfire.
“At ease, Dash,” Spitfire said, an impish smirk on her muzzle. “And, well, I assumed they wanted me, but if they want Fluttershy instead, I'd let her make the decision.” She shot a mischievous glance at Fluttershy, revelling internally in the mixture of amusement and embarrassment on her face.
Dash shook her head, her posture loosening. “Oh, no, he was asking for you, it's just...” she thought for a moment before her eyes widened and her expression dropped. “Captain, ma'am, I'm sorry, I should have told you about Fluttershy – she's my friend, she's not dangerous or...”
“At ease, Dash,” Spitfire repeated, holding up a hoof calmly. “She's not being detained. I know she's a friend of yours and I was just keeping her company while she waited for you to get off-duty.”
Fluttershy nodded. “Mm-hm. It's okay, Dash, we were just passing the time together. I didn't think you'd be finished so quickly with...” she trailed off as her eyes finally looked at the clock on the office's wall. “Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry, Dash, I completely lost track of time! I should have met you half an hour ago, I...”
“Woah, woah,” Spitfire interrupted, “it's fine, you're not the only one – should have been with Wave Chill a couple minutes ago. Seems we let things slip a little.”
Fluttershy swallowed, clearly not convinced. “I guess, but that doesn't mean... Rainbow Dash? Are you okay?”
Looking over, Spitfire saw Rainbow looking between the two of them, her head tilted and eyes squinted in a way that looked uncannily like a Labrador Spitfire had once known. “I, er... yeah, I'm fine, it's just... has the Captain been... have you... has... has everything been... okay?” She finished, clearly at a loss to put whatever she was asking into words.
Still, Fluttershy seemed to understand as she nodded. “Oh, yes, we've been having a very nice time. Oh, but I should probably let you get on with things, Spitfire.” She lowered herself gently from her chair and made her way to the door. “Thank you very much for the tea. I'll see you later.”
A slightly odd feeling flashed across Spitfire's stomach for an instant, but she soon found herself smiling. “Talk to you later, Fluttershy.”
The two left and Spitfire began quickly putting away the forms she'd been working on, listening to their conversation as it faded into the distance.
“That... 'Talk to you later'? No way would... what was that all about, 'Shy?”
“Well, we were just talking. She was doing things that didn't require her full attention, so we talked while I waited to give you Pinkie's letter.”
“Yeah, but... wait, Pinkie's?”
“Yes, she, um, heard about your promotion and asked me to deliver it personally.”
“Right, should probably open it in the bomb disposal area, just to be...”
Spitfire chuckled as she put on her formal jacket and opened the door, remembering what both Dash and Fluttershy had said about this 'Pinkie' and... curious to see what this letter would contain, but not overly worried.
As she made her way through the corridors, she did notice a few more ponies than normal giving her odd looks, but didn't pay it much mind. She just assumed that she'd put her jacket on wrong or that the lack of sunglasses seemed unusual. A quick brush up of her appearance in one of the bathrooms was enough to assuage any worries before she met the party from Head Office.
Really, her appearance was just a formality and it was Wave Chill who would be showing them around and explaining why, no, the budget did not need to be cut by ponies who made more money when they sneezed than she did in a month. Still, it didn't hurt to make a good impression and, well, Spitfire was responsible for the continued well-being of those under her command. Oddly enough, it was something she felt a small bit of kinship with Fluttershy about, even if the gentle mare would be the first to say that her responsibilities were nowhere near as stressful as Spitfire's.
Still, though the comparison did linger in her mind, she focused on the meet-and-greet. Soon enough, it was over, Wave Chill leading the officials away with a slightly confused tone, though Spitfire barely noticed.
She did, however, notice when Surprise leapt into the air the moment they passed each other, letting out a gasp that felt like it would suck half the air from the corridor.
“What?” Spitfire asked, more bemused than anything as Surprise stared at her, her expression truly reflecting her name.
“Cappy! You... you're... you're actually...”
Spitfire rolled her eyes, amused at Surprise's theatrics but a little impatient. “Yes? Spit it out, already.”
“You're... smiling!”
Spitfire felt her face scrunch up in confusion. “Huh?”
“Okay, not any more cause I said that,” Surprise quickly modified before nodding. “But yeah... you were actually smiling!”
Spitfire's face remained locked in confusion, her patience for Surprise's oddities rapidly diminishing. “So?”
“I've never seen you smile before,” Surprise said after a moment.
“What are you talking about?” Spitfire asked, her mouth hanging open in a baffled half-sneer. “I smile all the time... even if you keep trying to wipe 'em off my face, I smile plenty.”
“No, you don't,” Surprise replied, the blunt, authoritative statement catching Spitfire off-guard. “Oh, you smirk a lot, that's true. You've got an okay patronising or indulgent beam and your sadistic grin's second-to-none. And there's always the old standby, the horrified rictus,” she demonstrated for a moment, drawing a startled gasp from someone far behind Spitfire before continuing, “but an honest-to-goodness, no-muss-no-fuss smile? Nope, that's a new one.”
Spitfire stood silent for a moment, her face unmoving. Idly, she wondered if she had that same dog-trying-to-understand-advanced-mathematics look, as she felt completely lost. “What... what are you saying?”
“You're happy,” Surprise shrugged. “You're not just satisfied or thrilled or keen, you're straight-up happy. In all the time I've known you, I don't think I've ever seen you happy.” She gave a bright smile as she started walking past. “Gotta say, it's a good look for you, Cappy! Whatever gave you the happies, I'd keep it around.” And with that, she was gone.
Spitfire stood there for minutes on end, the busy corridors of Wonderbolts HQ moving around her, unseen and unnoticed.
Never been happy? That's just stupid. I'm happy plenty. Just because I don't go around grinning like a Cloudshire Cat after a lobotomy doesn't mean I'm not happy.
Eventually, she made her way back to her office, thinking the whole way.
I mean, there was when... no, I guess that was just more satisfied and relieved than anything. But there was the time... there was the moment when... there...
Without really registering what she was doing, she pulled out a bottle of whiskey from her desk's top drawer and poured herself a glass. Come on, there's gotta... this is stupid, of course there's been some time recently when...
She slowly drained the glass as she thought back over the previous few days. Then the previous few weeks. Then months, then years.
This is... the hell's going on? I... I know I've been... As she refilled the glass, Spitfire racked her brain, half desperate and half disbelieving she could be this stumped. Huh?
“I just never really thought about it.” Spitfire finished, careful that her shrug didn't bother the mare she was holding. “I mean, it's not like I was totally miserable or anything...” She paused for a moment before amending, “I mean, not constantly. And, well... to be honest, I don't think I ever really stopped long enough to just... consider how I was feeling at any one moment. I was always so focused on what came next – the next move, the next routine, the next show. Even back when I was just starting out, it was always about the next test and the next promotion, and once I was captain, it was the next task and the next responsibility and the next pony who'd make me tear my mane out.” She let out a gentle, if slightly macabre, chuckle. “Never stopped to ask what things were like now. I guess what I'm saying is... I was kind of an idiot.”
“No you weren't,” Fluttershy admonished her gently, uncomfortable even with Spitfire's joking self-reproach. “That's something a lot of ponies get caught up in and, well, when you do what you do in the air, you have to think about what's going to come next. And, um...” She swallowed nervously as she began to gently play with the feathers of the wing around her, “I know this is a bit selfish... okay, really selfish, but, well, if you getting therapy would have meant we wouldn't get to know each other like this... well, I'm really glad you didn't.”
Spitfire smiled and laid a gentle kiss onto Fluttershy's forehead. “Me too. No psych session in the world could compare to spending an evening with you. When I'm with you, nothing in the world could make me think of any time but now.” She let out a small laugh as Fluttershy continued to stroke her wing. “Especially when you do that. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were as eager to get into the bedroom as I am.”
Fluttershy looked up at her, a look on her face that broadcast how hard she was trying to be teasing and, paradoxically, succeeded brilliantly because the effort was so obvious. “What makes you think you know better?” After a moment, she slid off the couch and made her way towards the stairs. “I'll just get things set up.”
Spitfire raised herself to her hooves, having to put all her focus into keeping her tail from wagging like a flail. “Okay, I'll just wash up these mugs then I'll be up.”
“Oh, thank you,” she heard Fluttershy say behind her as she picked up the empty teacups and carried them into the kitchen. As she rinsed them and cleaned them out, doing her best not to rush things in her haste to get upstairs, she idly wondered what ponies would think if they knew the famous Captain of the Wonderbolts was busy washing dishes. She quickly dismissed the thought, though – she wouldn't be much of a marefriend if she left more work for Fluttershy and that was the only thing that mattered.
Soon enough, she was making her way upstairs, her hooves barely even touching the staircase as she hopped and flapped her way to the upper floor. As she got there, she just caught the tail end of Fluttershy preparing the bed – pushing the blankets down to the footboard and folding them carefully, making sure they wouldn't bunch up or crease. This might not have taken as long if not for the size of the bed – apparently, Fluttershy had needed to get a big one during an incident she needed to provide bedrest to a bear and, afterwards, had found that she rather liked having the space to sleep. Plus, it made things far easier for certain purposes after she and Spitfire had gotten close.
The demure mare turned as she heard Spitfire enter the room and gestured silently to the bed. Nodding, Spitfire made her way over before carefully climbing onto the mattress, shifting herself into the centre and, finally, lying down on her belly and spreading her wings out to either side of her, almost completely covering the width of the bed. Humming her thanks, Fluttershy gently climbed up behind her, lowered her head to Spitfire's wing... and began preening her.
It didn't take long for Spitfire to feel herself melting into the mattress and into Fluttershy's delicate mouth. A long, languid series of purrs, without pattern, rhythm or embarrassment, fell from her throat as her muscles relaxed, the feeling of her feathers being softly shifted, smoothed and straightened dissolving any sense of self-consciousness. Even the occasional moments where Fluttershy had to pull out a broken feather didn't break the feeling, instead only enhancing it. Spitfire had no idea how that was even possible – somehow, she did it gently enough that it didn't hurt and only provided a stronger, more solid sensation to underscore the more soothing, tingly feeling of the main preening. Sometimes, as she moved back and forth across Spitfire's prone form, Fluttershy would place a hoof on her back or legs, both giving herself a place to balance and massaging the muscles so delicately it was questionable if she even knew she was doing it, though Spitfire wouldn't risk asking her in case she stopped.
Somewhere within the pleasantly murky soup of Spitfire's thoughts, she wondered if it might seem silly to be this enthralled with a simple preening. However, she knew it was more than that. It wasn't just that Fluttershy was skilled, though she could certainly hold her own compared to any masseuse Spitfire had ever encountered, nor just that the burden of all responsibility was being lifted from her for a moment and that she was allowing herself to be taken care of.
Because she didn't just feel good or cared for or even calm. She simply felt.... loved. It was as if she could feel how Fluttershy adored and cherished her directly through her skin. It may have been her imagination that made it feel like her marefriend's love had a tangible effect, but Spitfire wasn't about to question it.
“Thanks, Fluttershy,” she said after a while, barely noticing herself speak. “I really needed this.”
She felt Fluttershy smile against her feathers before she took her mouth away for a second. “I'm glad.”
Nothing else was spoken for the longest time, as neither felt the need to say anything, nor did either want Fluttershy to stop, even for a moment.
Eventually, though, Spitfire felt Fluttershy pull away, the warm, relaxed pleasure in her wings having covered the whole area. However, Spitfire didn't whimper or whine as much as she felt she might otherwise, as she knew what was coming next.
Reaching over to the bedside table, Fluttershy picked up a soft brush in her hoof and, gently taking Spitfire's dock in her other hoof, began brushing her tail.
Spitfire felt a gooey smile spread across her face as the brush floated across her tail hair and the flesh beneath. It didn't provide the direct nerve stimulation that the preening provided, but it somehow managed to achieve just as much pleasure and a great deal more serenity. It was, perhaps, no surprise that somepony so dedicated to taking care of animals knew how to take care of fur and hair, but that didn't make Spitfire any less thankful to be in the care of someone so adept and tender.
However, that thought did bring a question to mind and a mild, thoughtful frown to her face. “Hey, Fluttershy?”
“Hm?” Fluttershy glanced up, more curious than concerned, as she moved on to brushing Spitfire's coat, working her way up towards her head.
“I'm just wondering... when you do this for me... does it feel like it does when you do this for one of your animals?”
Fluttershy smiled, a little relieved at hearing the question. “No. No, it's a lot more. I mean, it kind of did when I first did it, but that was because you were, well...” A slight blush took her face, mirrored by the one on Spitfire's as they both thought back to that time.
“I'm sorry, Angel,” Fluttershy said as she swooped clumsily down the stairs, heedless of the irritated face and tapping foot of the rabbit at the top of them, “but it sounds like someone could really be hurt!”
She skidded to a halt on the ground floor, taking a moment to wipe her eyes and try to get her bearings after having been so suddenly woken by the knocking on her door. After a moment, though, the knocking sounded again, it's staggered, chaotic rhythm making clear that whoever was on the other side of the door, they were not in a coherent state of mind.
Straightening herself up and putting herself in as professional a mindset as she could, Fluttershy opened the door. “Hello, what do we need to do, there's no time to... Spitfire?!”
“Courshe not!” Spitfire replied, swaying heavily. “Never any time to Spitfire!” She let out a slow, dopey laugh and the smell of alcohol rammed into Fluttershy's face. To most, this would no doubt dismiss their concerns of danger.
For Fluttershy, however, it merely changed them. “Oh my goodness, come inside, you must be freezing.”
“Nah!” Spitfire waved a hoof, almost hitting the door frame. “Not freez'n'. 'mpegasus! 'n'whiskey feelsh waaarm.”
Fluttershy's eyes widened. “That means the alcohol's reversing your body's survival mechanisms and taking the heat away from your core and to the surface so it gets cooled off come inside now, now, now!” she blurted out as she forcefully bundled Spitfire inside. As soon as she was safe and the door was shut, she looked at the drunken mare. “What are you doing here anyway?”
Spitfire whirled around, staggering for a moment to keep herself upright before looking at Fluttershy, almost focusing her eyes enough to glare. “'m'ere causa you!” She jabbed a hoof roughly in Fluttershy's direction.
Fluttershy jerked back, mortified at the accusation. “Me? What did I do?”
“You...” Spitfire trailed off, thinking hard for a moment before she answered, oddly quiet. “Y'made me happy.”
Fluttershy instinctively started to squeeze her eyes shut tightly before what was said registered. “I'm... sorry?” she said, a befuddled frown on her face.
“No!” Spitfire snapped. “Y'not sorry, I'm sorry! Can't 'member last time bein' happy. How'dja do that?”
Fluttershy's mouth hung open for a moment, baffled at what she was hearing. “I... I didn't do anything. I just talked to you, that's all. And I listened, but... I guess not hard enough to know you were so miserable.” Her eyes fell in sadness at what she missed.
Spitfire was having none of it, though. “Not m'szhble! Love bein' a wond'rboll. 'Shbesht jobbina world. Love thrills, love tricks, love pract'ce 'n'pformnce 'n' shout'n' 'nallat! 'Sgreat, but 'snot... 'snot just happy. Some'in'... some'in' missin' n' dunno what!”
“Oh, um, okay,” Fluttershy said, still somewhat at a loss for what was going on. Still, she carefully guided the staggering mare to the couch. “Well, um, come and sit down and maybe we can talk abou- your wing!”
“Huh? Whya wanna talk 'bout m'wing?” Spitfire asked, shakily following Fluttershy's gaze to her left wing. After a moment, she registered the disrupted feathers and the leaves and twigs sticking out of them. “Oh yeah,” she let out a small giggle, as if she's just noticed a slightly amusing shape in the clouds, “wing metta bush. Bush met m'wing! They b'came friends!” After a moment, she blinked heavily, a vaguely coherent thought seeming to swim to the top of her mind. “B'tt'r fix't, though.”
Fluttershy almost began to breathe a sigh of relief at Spitfire apparently regaining a few of her faculties. However, any such consolation was quickly smashed when Spitfire rammed her face into her wing and began clumsily twisting the feathers around. “What are you doing?!”
Spitfire glanced up at her. “'m preening. Gotta preen y'self if y'wanna keep flyin'” she said, as if it was the most obvious course of action imaginable.
Fluttershy dashed forward before gently pulling Spitfire's head away and taking her wing in a hoof. “Let me take a look at it first.” She felt around the muscles and joints for a few seconds. “Okay, nothing bruised or damaged, it looks like.” Spitfire nodded and moved her head back towards her wing before Fluttershy stopped her. “Um, maybe...” she paused, seeing the obvious solution but very hesitant to suggest it. After a moment, though, she shook her head - it was the only thing she could think of that would stop Spitfire making things worse. “Let me do it.”
After a brief pause, Spitfire nodded, prompting Fluttershy to put her face to Spitfire's wing, moving quickly enough that she almost outraced the blush forming on her cheeks.
Admittedly, while preening another pegasus was a somewhat intimate gesture, it wasn't nearly as much of one as most other tribes assumed. It was less a specifically romantic or familial thing to do, more just a way to take care of another. If a pegasus was caring for a sick friend, for example, they might preen them, provided the sickness wasn't contagious. And Fluttershy did have more experience with doing so than most, having had to when some of her bird friends were unable to preen themselves. So, while it did feel a little uncomfortable, it wasn't too bad if she thought about it in those terms.
However, after about a minute, she heard Spitfire let out a delighted hum. “'Sgood. Y're good at this. Feels goooood.”
Fluttershy let out a small sigh. “I'm glad.”
She was about to continue when Spitfire stiffened suddenly. “Do that again!” After a moment's confused silence, she clarified, “That breathin' thing!”
Blinking in confusion, Fluttershy let out a slow, soft breath over Spitfire's wing.
“Yeeeeah,” Spitfire said, seeming to melt into the couch. “I like that.”
Despite the awkwardness and bizarreness of the moment, Fluttershy couldn't help but smile. After a moment, a thought occurred to her. “Does it make you... happy?” She asked, hoping she didn't sound too stupid.
There was a long pause before Spitfire nodded. “Yeah... yeah, 'slike... 'slike I'm flying” Her eyes widened slightly. “'sbeen a long time s'nce I've b'n flying.”
Fluttershy tilted her head slightly. “Um, you're a Wonderbolt. You fly a lot, don't you?”
Spitfire shook her head, though her lowered brow made clear she herself wasn't sure what she was saying. “Nah, tha... 'sflyin', but it's not... flying. Like, up there, 'mzippin' an' t'rnin' an' weavin', but I'm not... just flying. 'N'I wanna fly. No plan, noth'n' caref'l, no one judgin', just... fly!”
A smile blossomed onto Fluttershy's face as she returned to preening, finally understanding the problems Spitfire was having enough that she felt comfortable helping her out and thinking about solutions.
“Oh, you don't have to tell me,” Spitfire assured her, cutting off her stammers. “I remember, believe me. Figures that the one time I can remember what happened when I was smashed, it's the time I made a total idiot outta myself in front of you. Although,” she added quickly, hoping to cut off any objection Fluttershy might have to her assessment, “I guess if I'd forgotten, I wouldn't have been able to come back and ask you to do it again.” She chuckled. “I'll never forget how red you went when I asked that first time.”
“I was just surprised,” Fluttershy said as she finally made her way to Spitfire's head and started brushing her mane. “And I did say yes.”
“I know,” Spitfire said, with a nod just small enough not to disrupt Fluttershy's work, “but you had every right to be embarrassed. Heck, I was embarrassed enough asking.”
Spitfire could almost feel Fluttershy’s smile. “Well, maybe, but if your day was nearly as bad as you told me, you definitely needed it.” She giggled softly. “Actually, even that first time, when you turned up... well, you know... it was kind of obvious you needed something like that.”
“Guess a drunk visit from a friend'll do that.” Spitfire sighed, unable to truly feel sad about such things while her marefriend was brushing her. “Still, I can see why you might have wanted to treat me like an animal – probably wasn't too far off from reality.”
“Oh, I only felt that way at first,” Fluttershy assured her. “Even back then, it... well, after a little while, it became something more. And it... I like taking care of my animal friends, I like it a lot, but it's... different with you. It feels... deeper. It's sort of hard to explain.”
“Well, don't feel like you have to,” Spitfire replied, nuzzling her head into Fluttershy's lap. “It's not like I'm complaining.”
Fluttershy gave another musical little giggle. “Well, I think I should. It's... Animals are... well, I don't want to say 'simple', that's not true at all, but they tend to be very... open, if you know how to look. There is a lot to them, but it's mostly all there to see. And, well, when I take care of an animal, I get to see them happy and grateful and...” she cleared her throat, stopping herself going on a dreamy tangent, “well, I get to see them be the best they can be, but it's still the same animal. With you, I feel... connected. Like I'm not just taking care of you, I'm reaching you much deeper and it just... it feels like I really understand you... and like you really understand me. Does that, um... does that make any sense?”
“I think so,” Spitfire said, looking up at her with a smile. “I don't know if the words did, but... well, I think I get what you mean and I think that kind of proves your point.”
Fluttershy beamed down at her and continued to brush, allowing Spitfire to sink further into her lap. At some point, she finished and put the brush back on the bedside table, but even then, the two didn't otherwise move, just lying together on the bed with Fluttershy further up, holding Spitfire's head against her. Spitfire always liked these periods and, even if she didn't, she knew Fluttershy absolutely adored them – the times when nothing was said and nothing needed to be said. They were together, they were truly connected and they could just soak in the silence. Of course, eventually, something would have to come along and break that silence, whether it was one of them, another pony or animal, or some event, but that didn't bother them. At that moment, the moment itself was what mattered.
That said, the interruptions usually weren't as sudden or as jarring as the thunderclap that burst from outside.
Fluttershy let out an “Eep!” but, before she'd even registered her marefriend's squeal, Spitfire was already moving. In a manoeuvre that even the veteran Wonderbolt couldn't keep track of, she had, within a couple of seconds, largely reversed their positions so that she was further up and hugging Fluttershy tightly against her chest, stroking her head gently with a hoof. “You okay, 'Shy?”
“Mm-hm,” Fluttershy nodded against her collar, her small shivers quickly subsiding. “It just startled me.”
“Can understand why,” Spitfire assured her, looking up past her and out of the window. “Still, looks like it was just a stray thunder cloud from the Everfree. Weather team should be able to take care of it.”
“Oh, good,” Fluttershy said, snuggling deeper into her embrace. “I was worried it might be something more. If it was a proper storm, there might be animals in danger.”
“Not a chance,” Spitfire said, a small smirk poking its way onto her face. “We both know you'd be out there and you wouldn't let anything stop you from saving them. And I hope we both know that “Beach Comber” would be right there with you.”
Fluttershy looked up at her, her eyes puzzled but with a clear bit of hope behind them. “I thought we wanted to keep her out of sight as much as we could so people didn't look into her.”
Spitfire shrugged. “If we can, sure, but trust me: I'll come up with a full biography and birth certificate for her if it means keeping you safe.”
Fluttershy let out a delighted squeak and buried her face in Spitfire's chest again.
Spitfire sighed in contentment. There were a lot of times when she couldn't help but feel that her relationship with Fluttershy was very one-sided. No matter how much the gentle mare assured her that she got as much out of their relaxation sessions as Spitfire did, it was impossible to shake the feeling that she was giving so much, putting so much work and care into things while Spitfire was just selfishly soaking it all up.
However, in these moments, the moments when she could provide comfort and security and could simply be there for Fluttershy, just as Fluttershy so often did for her... these were the moments where she truly understood just how wonderful their bond was; how much they meant to each other.
After a moment, though, Fluttershy shifted uncomfortably. “I just wish you didn't have to hide your face. If I was only braver, I could... if I could just take all that... attention...”
“Hey, now,” Spitfire cut her off, giving her a small, gentle squeeze and kissing her forehead, “that kind of publicity's a real acquired taste – as much as a lot of ponies may want it, I don't think there are that many who could take it for that long. Heck, I'm not always too happy about it; you know that. It's nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I guess,” Fluttershy replied, in the voice of one for whom shame was something of a lifestyle choice, much as Spitfire tried to help mitigate it. Still, she seemed to settle down after a moment. “I mean, maybe if it was just one pony interested, like what happened, but, well...”
“I know,” Spitfire assured her. “Though, to be honest, we did get lucky with that one.”
“Dammit!” Spitfire hissed, pressing her head against Fluttershy's wall painfully. “I'm so sorry, I should have been more careful, I...”
“It's okay,” Fluttershy cut her off, smiling a little even as her eyes nervously darted to the window, in the direction of the pony they'd seen standing outside. Spitfire risked a quick glance herself, seeing that, yes, he was still there, his hat, a press card in its brim, and the notebook and pencil hovering in his magic signalling that this was either a reporter or someone posing as a reporter in order to get information.
And when the ridiculously famous Captain of the Wonderbolts had just flown into the house of somepony who most would consider just a random mare, well, it wasn't hard to figure out what they were trying to investigate. And when said mare, despite her forays into modelling, singing and saving the world, had both tried and succeeded at keeping herself and her private life out of the public eye, that was not a desirable situation.
However, Spitfire was distracted from that by the sound of Fluttershy moving towards the door. “What are...”
“I'll talk to him,” Fluttershy assured her, almost managing to hide some of the apprehension on her face. “Hopefully, I can get him to leave.”
Spitfire opened her mouth, her brain scrambling to find the words for just what a terrible idea this was, but it was too late – it seemed Fluttershy was attempting to move fast enough not to think about her nerves and she was out of the door before Spitfire could speak. Humming uncertainly, Spitfire moved to the window and peeked out slightly, raising an eye and an ear just enough to see and hear without broadcasting her presence.
“Hello?” Fluttershy said as she approached the stallion. He started slightly, but didn't flee – a good sign. Generally, the most grubby of journalists were the ones who are very aware of that status so tried not to get spotted and fled when they were. Still, it wasn't enough to put Spitfire's mind at rest.
“Good afternoon,” the stallion replied, putting on a professional smile. “I'm Ink Sling from the Canterlot Crier. I'm sorry to bother you, Miss...?”
“Fluttershy.” Spitfire swallowed nervously when Fluttershy gave her name. Fortunately, while there was a flicker of recognition on Ink's face, he didn't seem to get caught up on it.
“Right,” he continued, “well, you see, I couldn't help but notice Captain Spitfire come this way and... well, it seems like she might have gone into your house. Is there a... a reason for that?”
“Are you sure it was her?” Fluttershy asked, before narrowing her eyes slightly, “were you following her?”
Ink Sling laughed, not seeming to take the doubt personally. “Oh, believe me, you don't mistake a mare as famous as her for someone else. And... well, I wasn't stalking her, if that's what you mean, it's simply that, well... when you see one of the Wonderbolts, never mind the Captain, heading for the Everfree Forest... that tends to suggest something big's going down in there. Trust me, if it was just that she was here, I wouldn't worry, but the Everfree's got some nasty stuff in it, from what I hear.”
Spitfire breathed a sigh of relief that at least this stallion hadn't come with the intent of gathering dirt on her, even if she still had no idea if he'd be willing to take it if it were presented.
She looked out again, seeing Fluttershy open her mouth to respond, only for her heart to sink as the stallion cut her off. “Oh! Is that why she came to see you? Are you some sort of ranger or warden of the Everfree? Is she consulting with you about something?”
“Um...” Fluttershy said, beginning to back off slightly.
However, the stallion quickly stepped up to match her, his pencil hovering in eagerness to start writing. “Is there some monster or demon or threat to the world in there that needs dealing with? Is there someone trapped there and needing rescue? Is there some sort of expedition that's found something dangerous?”
“I... er...” Fluttershy started shrinking into herself, a high-pitched whine starting to escape her mouth.
The stallion didn't seem to notice. “Wow, this could be big, you and Spitfire could be heroes. Is ther-”
“Enough!”
Moving quicker than she could ever remember doing, Spitfire dashed out, skidding to a stop between the two and raising herself up to her full height, startling Ink Sling into falling back onto his haunch as she fixed her best glare onto him.
“Listen, you little snoop, if you wanna be any kind of reporter, then using your eyes might be a good start! The lady's not comfortable with being grilled like that – I don't know who would be. Now, for your information, Miss Fluttershy here happens to be a close friend to one of the ponies under my command and I was here consulting with her about a matter related to them, that's all. And,” she added, internally satisfied at how much he was shrinking away from her, but not letting any of that show on her face, “when I say a 'matter', I mean a 'breach-of-every-kind-of-professional-and-military-ethics-to-discuss-with-press kind of matter, you got that?”
“Yes!” Ink Sling squeezed his eyes tightly shut, seemingly only able to gain the courage to speak by doing so. “I...”
“You what?” Spitfire asked, raising an eyebrow hard enough that it almost seemed like he felt it.
“I'm sorry!” he answered, though with a little less terror than Spitfire had expected. “I... I got excited, I... I thought this could be my big break, I... I got carried away and didn't pay attention to how I was coming across, I...” he opened his eyes and, to Spitfire's surprise, looked past her and to Fluttershy. “I'm really sorry, Miss Fluttershy.”
“Oh! I, er...” Fluttershy stuttered, her hyperventilating beginning to abate but still nowhere near normal.
Spitfire looked behind her, not wanting to take her eyes completely off the stallion but still feeling the need to help. “It's okay, Fluttershy, breathe!”
Fluttershy locked eyes with her for a moment and, to Spitfire's amazement, seemed to get a hold of herself within that instant, her breathing slowing down a few moments later.
“It... it's okay,” Fluttershy said finally. “I'm okay, you were just, well... a bit...”
“I know, I'm sorry,” Ink Sling said with a pained nod.
Spitfire looked intently at the stallion lying before her. He was obviously afraid of her but, even ignoring that, he did seem genuinely contrite and ashamed for what he'd done and, thinking about it, she could definitely understand the thought that her presence might mean big news. Plus, now she was able to take a longer look at him, she could see that Ink Sling was very young – probably twenty-one or twenty-two at the oldest.
She let out a long, aggravated sigh. “Get up, kid.”
Ink Sling rocketed to his hooves as Fluttershy stepped forward. “Are you okay?”
“Apart from coming all this way for nothing?” Ink Sling asked with a shrug as his shivering settled down. “I'm fine.”
Spitfire raised an eyebrow. “So what are you gonna write?”
Ink Sling snorted. “What's to write? 'Wonderbolt Captain Meets with Mare!', yeah, that's great copy.” He opened his mouth to continue before pausing, a thoughtful look coming to his face. “Actually, come to think of it, yeah, there are a whole load of ponies who'd write a story and make up a context for that and no shortage of gossip rags or conspiracy screeds that'd buy it, but not me.”
Spitfire gave him a sardonic smirk, her eyebrow still up. “An ethical journalist?”
Ink Sling let out a bitter, barking laugh. “Yeah, I know, a rare and dying breed, but we are out there. Plus, even if I wanted to, the paper'd never run it. And, to be honest, now that I think about it, they wouldn't even if I'd found a story. No photos, no evidence and only the word of one cub reporter sent on a back-page story about a town festival? Yeah, like the editor says, that kinda cow pie don't fly at the Crier.” He scuffed at the ground despondently. “So, yeah, I came here, neglected an hour of my assignment, made an ass of myself and screwed up the whole 'ethical' thing... all for no reason. Didn't know it was possible to fail that badly.”
There was a long moment of silence as Spitfire looked down at the young stallion, evaluating everything she'd seen and heard.
Eventually, she nodded. “Well, if it helps, I'd still rate you above most of the journalists I've met. You know, think I'll keep an eye out for your name, you seem like you got your heart in the right place, if not always your head.” She nodded towards the path back into town. “You can go, I'm not gonna do anything to you and,” she gave a quick glance to Fluttershy, asking for confirmation for what she was about to ask and being given it immediately, “neither is she.”
Ink Sling began to turn before Spitfire interrupted him. “But...” As he turned back to her, she stepped forward and put her face right up to his, her eyes boring into him. “If I ever hear that Fluttershy's being harassed, either by you or someone who heard about her from you – and I will know if they did – then I'm grabbing your muzzle and that horn of yours and making a wish. You got that?”
The stallion nodded with a slight whimper, turning the moment Spitfire stepped back and walking away, the shaking in his limbs making clear how hard he was having to concentrate to stop himself running like his tail was on fire.
Nodding to herself, Spitfire began to turn away, only to remember her audience. Swallowing in terror at how much she might have scared Fluttershy, she turned to her. “I'm, er...”
Fluttershy was staring at her in silent awe, her pupils wide and her cheeks blushing furiously.
Spitfire let out an awkward laugh. “Let's, er... let's just get inside before anyone else turns up, huh?”
Spitfire sighed. “I still feel bad I lost my cool like that.”
Fluttershy looked up at her. “Why?” she asked, genuinely puzzled. After a second, she snuggled deeper into Spitfire's chest. “You really shouldn't be. You were, um... you were kind of , well... magnificent.”
Spitfire looked down at her, startled. “Huh?”
“Well, you were so angry” Fluttershy replied, as if that was a full answer.
“That's a good thing?” Spitfire shook her head at the idea.
Fluttershy nodded with a small smile. “Would you like to know a secret?” Fluttershy asked, pausing a moment but continuing before Spitfire could respond – it seemed Fluttershy knew the answer. “I've always kind of wished I could get angry more.”
Spitfire continued to stare down at her marefriend, completely lost. “What? Why would you... you're the sweetest, gentlest pony I've ever known. Why'd you want to give in to anger like that?”
“Because, on its own, there's nothing wrong with being angry.” Fluttershy said, giving Spitfire a slight squeeze. “As long as you're not letting it control you, it's a really good thing to feel when there's something to be angry at. It's like fear and, well, I'm not always good at not letting that control me. I... I kind of like a pony who can get angry when they need to.”
Spitfire nodded. “Guess that makes sense for a friend of Dash.”
Fluttershy hummed, tilting her head from side to side. “Well, a bit but... well, I love Rainbow as a friend and she can get angry like that but... well, a lot of the time, she can get carried away and fly, um, off the handle, I guess? A lot of the time, well, she'd get mad, but I think there's a difference between getting mad and getting angry. Even if, um, I'm not sure exactly what it is.”
Spitfire nodded, though. “Like the difference between annoyed and frustrated… or a smile and a smirk, I guess.
“Mm-hm,” Fluttershy looked up at her with a smile. “And you... you were amazing. You were so focused. I knew you weren't going to go too far, you weren't going to let your anger out at anything else and I knew... I knew you were doing all that, saying all that, feeling all that... just to protect me. I'd never felt so safe in my life. To be honest,” she closed her eyes and rested her head under Spitfire's chin, “I think that was when I started seeing you as someone I'd like to, um... be more than friends with.”
Spitfire's smile was so great she was sure Fluttershy could feel it through her chin. “Even before I did? Wow. Not long before, I guess, though – I started thinking like that when you gave me that vest... gave me that gift and gave me... gave me the chance to get away for a bit.” She chuckled a little. “Guess that sums it up, doesn't it? I make you feel safe, you make me feel sane.”
Fluttershy hummed in agreement before the two lapsed into a long, comfortable silence. At some point, they'd have to get out of bed, if only to get ready to actually go to bed. And then, after a while, the morning would come and Spitfire would have to return to HQ, though not without one final, wonderful bit of leisure with the mare she loved.
So, yes, they'd eventually have to get up but, for that moment, neither would have moved for the world.
She wasn't flying through any trick or routine. She wasn't flying to any point or place. She wasn't flying for anyone at all. She was just flying.
She let out a pure, joyous laugh as she banked into a lazy loop-de-loop. There was no tight control or careful adjustment, she wasn't trying to impress anypony and nopony was relying on her. All the movements and tricks she did were solely for their own sake, for her own enjoyment, for the pure feeling of flying. This... this was what Spitfire wanted to do more than anything, more than even being a Wonderbolt... though despite everything, she still loved that too, which was why it felt so surreally amazing to be able to do both.
She looked over at her falsely-blue wing and laughed in delight and astonishment. For so long, she'd thought this kind of freedom was impossible for her – when the Captain of the Wonderbolts was flying around, people would always be watching and she'd need to be at her best. But Beach Comber? All anypony would see was a random Pegasus going for a fly. Nothing notable about that at all.
This was the true gift that Fluttershy had given her. The fact that it allowed Fluttershy to see her without worrying about the problems of dating a celebrity was just a bonus, as indeed was the fact that that also allowed Spitfire to see Fluttershy and have all the benefits of talking to and, after a while, dating that miraculous mare. The main purpose, as Fluttershy had told her when she'd come to give it to her, was just to give her somewhere... somepony in which she could just simply... fly.
Looking over to the side, Spitfire saw her marefriend a short distance away, enjoying her own pleasant flight. Spitfire turned in a broad circle, scanning the area to make sure there was no one around to see before she swooped down and in front of Fluttershy, meeting their lips in a gentle kiss.
It would have to end eventually, of course. Sooner or later, Spitfire would have to sadly leave. There would always be another day to get through, another set of tasks to perform, another mountain of stresses waiting to pile onto her.
But she didn't care. Just at that moment, she was happy, she was at peace and she was alone with Fluttershy. And that moment was worth ten forevers.
