Unprofessional

“You know what we haven’t done yet?”

Soarin looked up from the magazine he was reading, and looked at Spitfire. Thinking for a moment, he found himself unable to come up with an answer.

“Um, a lot, I suppose, maybe you wanna get more specific? I mean, there are tons of things we’re probably never gonna be doing, or even able to, so I don’t-”

“No, no, numbnuts, I’m talking about the one, kinda crucial, thing that goes into every relationship; which we haven’t done yet.”

Soarin took to thinking again. Over the last month or so they’d been together, they had done quite a bit from what he could remember. They had done it in the locker room at the stadium -that was kind of the way they got together to begin with-and after that they’d done it a bunch of times. But thinking about it, and giving her a casual glance, Soarin figured she wasn’t talking about their sex life.

“Sorry, I don’t really know the dating scene that well…”

Spitfire sighed.

“What’s the first thing you do in a relationship, like, one of those fundamental things that everypony who’s ever tried being in a relationship has done?”

“Um...flowers?”

Spitfire facehoofed.

“Okay, uh, how about, flowers and a box of chocolate?”

“It’s a nice gesture, but still not really there,” Spitfire said and patted him on the hoof.

Soarin gave it another hard thought. They’d had sex a bunch of times, that much he was certain of. They hung out regularly, at work, and outside of work. She sometimes slept at his place, and on occasion he’d sleep at hers, and sometimes they went out- wait, did they? His mind got stuck for a moment. He remembered most of their times together, but none of those times had been in public. They hadn’t even gone out for coffee.

“We haven’t been on a date, have we?” he asked.

“Bingo,” Spitfire said, giving him a wink and a satisfied smile.

Soarin felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. In all this time, he and Spitfire hadn’t had a proper first date, unless he could count that first time in the showers as one, which he was pretty certain wasn’t an option; most first dates weren’t supposed to include 69’s as far as he knew, unless times had changed while he wasn’t looking.

Looking Spitfire in the eyes, he broke the question. “Spitfire, would you like to go on a date with me?” he asked with a slight quiver in his voice.

Spitfire took one glance at her stallion, at this point looking more like a nervous foal, and burst out laughing so hard she fell out of the armchair she laid in, hitting the cloud floor with a soft thud.

“Does that mean you don’t wanna go with me?” Soarin said jokingly, doing his best pouty-face. Spitfire kept cackling for a good minute or so before she managed to calm herself and regain composure.

“Of course I’ll go on a date with you,” she said.

“Great... So, how exactly do we go about it?”

“What, you don’t know how to do a date either? Gosh, first the sex, now this, I’m starting to worry about you.”

“Very funny. No, I meant, how do we go about it without anypony knowing it’s us. The press would have a field day if they found out about us, right?”

“You know, I’ve been thinking about that,” Spitfire began, “I mean, I don’t want to live in the shadows all my life. I want to be able to go out with you and just be normal, not having to constantly worry about not being seen. And I know you want that too, even if right now the thought is scary.”

Soarin glanced to the side, avoiding eye contact. Spitfire knew him, and she knew him well. He wasn’t thrilled by the thought of having to keep their relationship a secret to the world either, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but thinking the worst about what could happen if they went public. Maybe he was thinking too highly of himself and his position, but whenever the thought of coming out hit him, he always saw himself as being one of those stallions who ended up on the cover of every paper in Equestria, hounded at every turn by ponies who wanted a piece of him. Never being allowed peace and quiet again. Maybe it was just all in his mind, but he wasn’t thrilled to find out.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-” Spitfire began, but Soarin cut her off.

“Look, I want that too, I’m just not ready yet. Just, this first time, can we keep it just between us?”

“Okay, we’ll keep it to ourselves for a little longer. But please, promise that you will give this some actual thought, and not make it one of those things you say you’re going to think about, and then you don’t.”

“I promise.”

“Playground oath?”

“How old are we again?”

“Not old enough to not do the oath.”

“Fine, how does it go again?”

“Seriously, you don’t remember the playground oath? It’s like, the holiest part of childhood.”

“I was raised to never enter an agreement if there wasn’t a written signature involved.”

“You’re weird, you know that? Fine, just follow my lead. You put your hoof to your heart, then you say ‘Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye’, and then you stick your hoof in your eye,” Spitfire said, holding a foreleg over her chest.

“Why do I need to stick a hoof in my eye?”

“Because that’s how it goes. Look, don’t pry, just do it. I didn’t write the rules.”

“Still, stupid rule.”

“Oh yeah?” Spitfire said annoyed and looked him in the eyes. “What if you had the opportunity to fulfill your deepest, most precious dream, but to do so, you’d have to take the playground oath?”

“Heh, I don’t need no oath to make that dream happen, just the world’s biggest pie form and an industrial size oven.”

“Just do the damn playground oath already, or you’re fired!”

“Fine,” Soarin said with a snicker and put his right hoof over his chest. “I promise to give it some serious thought as to when I’ll be comfortable of making our relationship public.”

“And the oath.”

“Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye,” Soarin said unenthusiastically and jabbed the edge of his hoof into his eye. “OW!”

Soarin fell to the floor like a sack of flour, clutching his face in both hooves.

“Whoa, are you okay there, big guy?”

“No, I just shoved by hoof into my eye, so I’m not okay! By Celestia’s soggy cellulite this hurts! Why would you make a child do this?”

Spitfire glanced at the ceiling to make sure there was no chance of the princess having heard Soarin’s comment, before returning her attention to him.

“You aren’t really supposed to stick something in your eye, you can actually have it closed…” she said sheepishly.

“A little late, don’t you think? Ugh, just help me to the bathroom, I think I may have punctured the retina.”

Spitfire carefully helped him to his hooves and lead him into the bathroom. Standing at the sink, Soarin carefully took his hoof away from his eye and blinked. It ached, but other than that, there was no sign of damages.

“See that, you’re fine. No need to think the worst about everything.” Spitfire said, patting him on the back.

Soarin rolled his undamaged eye at Spitfire’s comment and kept examining his other eye. It still hurt, and tears ran down his cheek on the one side, but he could tell Spitfire was right.

“Ugh, I guess you’re right...So there, I did your oath.”

“Good, and remember, you have to give some actual thought to what you’ve promised, not just forget about it and then try to come up with an answer when I ask about it again in two weeks,” Spitfire said sternly.

“You really want to make this public, don’t you?” Soarin said while padding the area around his eye with a wet piece of towel. Spitfire didn’t find his comment amusing though.

“Yes, I want to be able to have an open relationship.”

“Really?” Soarin said in a coy voice, which earned him a jab in the ribs. “Ow.”

“Not that kind of open relationship numbnuts...or, maybe just not yet,” Spitfire said, her train of thought trailing a bit. “Look, don’t get your hopes up, we’re starting with making us public, after that, we’ll see if we can’t make this duo into a herd.”

“Who would we bring in?”

“I said don’t get your hopes up. You’re going to adhere to the playground oath and give this some thought before we even start thinking about it. And you don’t get to decide here and now just because you want to start fantasizing about who we could add.”

“Awww, can we at least decide on gender?”

Spitfire facehoofed and groaned loudly. “Why do I even bring stuff up around you?”

“Because you like me,” Soarin said with a smile, earning him the kind of stare that foals used to get when they mentioned inappropriate details about their parents in front of said parents friends. Not that he knew from experience or anything.

“I’ll let that one slide only because you’re right. But to answer your question, I guess I could see myself bringing another mare in. But not soon, so wipe that grin off your face right now or I’ll give you some real eye pain to complain about,” she said, forcing Soarin into a very forced frown.

Not wanting Spitfire to make real on her threat, Soarin kept quiet as they both exited the bathroom and headed for the living room again. Laying next to each other on the couch and snuggling up, they tried to get back into their respective reading material, but both found focusing to be almost impossible. After a small eternity of awkward silence, Soarin took the risk and broke it.

“Just curious, why would you get to decide on a second mare? Don’t I get a say?”

“Because you have a terrible taste in ponies.”

“I do not.”

“Yeah you do, I’ve seen you during our bar runs. When you get liquored up you start hitting on just about everything. Remember last year when you started hitting on Celestia’s nephew?”

“I thought he was a girl!” Soarin said defensively.

“How could you make that assumption? The guy is built like a fridge and has an even bigger dick than you do.”

“He had a very shapely ass and shrieked like a little filly.”

“When you tried to stick your tongue in his mouth, yes I remember that. And that’s why we don’t invite you out for our binge drinking sessions after the shows, by the way.”

“Okay, so maybe I had one bad experience, that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be able to pick out a second player for us.”

“Third. And no, you don’t get to pick somepony, I don’t want you to accidentally bring another stallion into this.”

Soarin perked up a bit at Spitfire’s comment. “Really, no other stallions? I thought that’s what most mares were into.”

“Well, look at mister stereotyping over here. Look, I’ve been courted by multiple stallions a couple of times, and it usually just ends up with them being jealous at one another for some reason. So, I rather prefer to keep it too just one,” Spitfire said and stuck her head under Soarin’s cheek.

“I think I get along pretty well with other guys…” Soarin mumbled.

“Um, remember that time we went to Ponyville for some local festival, and you ended up getting into a fight with the baker?”

“He was trying to steal my food, what was I supposed to do?”

“First, pie isn’t food unless there’s actual vegetables in it. Second, that pie was supposed to feed ten ponies, and you ended up eating half of it before they stopped you. And then you made all the foals cry.”

“In my defense, they were crying before that.”

“Because you ate their dessert in front of them, rather messily too. I’m just glad the only press there at the time was their school paper so we could bribe the teacher.”

“That teacher seemed familiar somehow, I think…” Soarin muttered.

Spitfire didn’t answer and just hummed, burying one side of her face in Soarin’s chest fur, feeling it go up and down as he breathed, effectively putting their conversation on hold for a moment. Soarin didn’t speak either and lowered his muzzle into Spitfire’s mane, rustling it around, occasionally nibbling at her ears. Spitfire gave a snickering every few seconds as he did, and slowly moved her head across his chest in response.

“How’d she seem familiar?” Spitfire asked without stopping her snuggling. Soarin let go of her ear and thought for a moment, trying to track back into the past.

“I think I went to high-school with her, although she was definitely different back then.”

“How?”

“Well, do you remember when ponies wore their manes, you know, ‘that’ way?” Soarin asked, his question shortly followed by a shiver from Spitfire that made the whole couch seemingly vibrate.

“Please don’t talk about that style when I’m around,” Spitfire said through gritted teeth, and with a moan she dug her muzzle into Soarin’s fur and snuggled up closer to him. “It was so horrible.”

“Really?”

“Do you have any idea how long it took me to learn how to do that damn mane style? And by the time I had finally nailed it, the fad had passed, and I felt so stupid,” Spitfire groaned in fake anguish.

Soarin rolled his eye and pecked Spitfire on top of the head.

“Poor, unfortunate you,” he said, earning himself a nibble from Spitfire.

“It was real hard for me, “ she said, putting emphasis on the “real” part.

“I’m sure it was.”

“You weren’t there, how could you possibly understand?”

“I was there, I just didn’t care. That’s the upside of being a stallion, I can always fall back on my natural charm, I don’t need to follow trends.”

“Oh, that does it, buddy!” Spitfire yelped and quickly headbutted Soarin off of the couch and onto the floor, puffs of cloud flying into the air as he came down. Spitfire was over him in the blink of an eye, pinning him down with her weight as she began jabbing him in the sides with her forehooves, making him start cackling uncontrollably.

“Stop! Stop for fuck’s sake, I can’t take it!”

“NO!” Spitfire yelled with a laugh and threw herself onto him, sending them both into a tumble that eventually landed them out in the hall by the door, their coats and manes in tangled up messes. They lay on the floor for a small eternity, catching their breaths.
After a while, Soarin came to a realization and broke the silence.

“You know what we just did?”

“Behaved like foals?”

“No, we just had our first fight. Think about it, in the past hour or so, we’ve argued and gotten physical with each other,” Soarin said, a pleased smile spreading across his lips. “Our first real relationship argument.”

“You know, I think you’re right. And I liked it. Let’s just hope all our fights end like this one,” Spitfire said, moving herself into position so that she came face to face with Soarin. Waggling her tail a little, she felt it make contact with something unseen behind her, and a grin spread across her face. “So, where do we go from here, you think?”

Soarin cocked an eyebrow and smiled back at her. “Angry, post-fight makeup sex?”

Spitfire pecked him on the lips.

“Correct.”