Taking it day by day

“Al…. Alright. Has anypony seen my suit?”

Spitfire couldn't help but roll her eyes. Soarin was drunk.

“Du-dude, it’s on the fffan.”

As was the majority of the Wonderbolts. She felt a strange mix of exasperation and amusement in the pit of her stomach. It wasn't a common occurrence for the Wonderbolts to get time off, but when they did, be it a simple day off from training or a lull between shows, they used it to its fullest. And that usually ended in drinking. The day had, admitedly been a full one, with Soarin taking her to some fancy restaurant for some made up yet ridiculous reason. It was funny, they were engaged, have been for weeks, yet he still seemed to make badly thought up excuses to take her out, as if they weren't even a couple. He didn’t even need a reason, in her opinion, but he still insisted on making one.

This time it was that it was some festival of the un-living. On the moon.

As she sat there, watching her would-be husband make himself look like an idiot, repeatedly jumping for his suit as it span on the fan, a thought jumped into her head.

Maybe he didn’t actually want her.

It was stupid idea, of course. He was always the one to make a move. While she was reserved, yet confident, he was uninhibited, but self-conscious. He made her like him romantically, all while worrying about messing something up along the way. She originally felt that he was somewhat of an idiot. Which wasn't unfounded. After all, they had been best friends since they were born. They shared a birthday. She was older then him by five minutes. They shared a large bassinet due to a complete lack of free space in the hospital.

And yet, she was still surprised when he asked her out. He had proved to be full of surprises. When she found out that she was good at flying, Soarin, who was a weak flyer, worked night and day to match her. When she got her cutie mark when protecting a phoenix hatchling from a young dragon, he got his by saving her when she broke her wing trying to save the rest of the nest.

Her mark was a fireball, divine fury; she fought those who would take advantage of others. She was a sword.

His mark? The wings of some strange species called angels, a remnant legend of a powerful race long gone. Kindness and divine mercy. Protector of those who can’t save themselves. A shield.

They were almost literally made for each other. When he asked her out officially, instead of saying no, she found herself noticing the small, yet heartfelt smile he had.

The same smile he gave her when she was caught by him.

The rest was history.

All in all, she knew he loved her. She knew she loved him. She might not say it, but she did.

So, why did he make excuses?

Was it just a game? Or did he find himself unsure of what he felt?

She looked back over to him, and found him swinging from the ceiling fan, holding onto his suit while the rest of the Wonderbolts laughed. She felt herself smile as the suit came free, sending him fly into a nearby couch. He was still the joker she knew since childhood.

As he made his way back onto his hooves, he gave her a sheepish smile.

She pushed herself from her thoughts, and returned the smile.

He may be an idiot at times, but he was her idiot. And, even if he wasn't sure what he wanted, she was.