As you woke to the rising sun, you continue your usual morning routine. Spitfire’s well used coffee pot from work sat on the counter, happily percolating. The lingering smells of fresh muffins still filled the apartment. You had gotten a lot better at making breakfast lately.

Splayed out in front of you, Spitfire laid out on the white sheets, a half-finished mug of joe set at the nightstand. Gently, you kneaded her wing in your hooves, making sure to avoid the bruised edge. It may look a lot less menacing than it had weeks ago, but you knew it was still tender.

Working at her wing joint, she gave a soft murring noise into the bed, as her body relaxed completely. You slowly pulled the wing out, trying to get the yellow mare to stretch it farther than the previous night. A slight spasm from her back, and a stifled yelp followed, as she pulled the wing back in tight against her body.

“It’s not going to get better if you don’t move it.” You said, chiding her. She doesn’t respond at all. She just buries her muzzle deeper into the bed.

“You could just have the trainer at the Academy look at it…”

She shifts her muzzle to the side as you speak those words, one eye glaring at you. “I told you, rookie, I’m fine. It’s getting better on its own. I’ll be flying in no time.”

A lie. You had seen her trying to put some of her weight on it the other day. She flapped her right wing gamely, but the left just didn’t seem to get the picture. Almost as if it were out of synch, it floundered as she tried to take off. She only made it a few inches off the ground before she listed dangerously to her left, nearly crashing on her side. As she walked away you could see the grimace of pain on her face. Recently you had seen the mare become sick to her stomach a lot more, too. She would sometimes wake in the morning and have to run to the bathroom. You worried about her constantly.

“Maybe we could go to another doctor? You said you didn’t want to see the Wonderbolts trainer, but we could go back to the Cloudsdale hospital, right? They said you might need some rehabilitation, after all…”

She flipped to her side suddenly, distancing herself from you. “Look, just drop it, alright? I’ve seen this injury before. I just need some time to heal, that’s all.”

You weren’t so sure, but didn’t feel like pressing the matter. Her leg had healed up days ago; the fiery mare easily trotting around on it. But her wing just didn’t seem to be making any progress at all.

“I won’t bring it up again if it bothers you so much…” You said quietly.

The mare jumped down from the bed, walking over to her closet. She flipped a few garments out of the way, before finding her instructor uniform. Draping it on loosely, you could see her wince as her wing scraped against the fabric. She walked over to you without buttoning it. As she passed by, the mare leaned her head on yours, her warm neck touching yours as you stood there in shock from the sudden touch. She pulled away slightly, just far enough to kiss the side of your muzzle.

“Let’s just go to the Academy. It’ll make me feel better.”

You were Spitfire’s shadow around the Academy lately. Since she couldn’t fly more than a couple feet at once, you found yourself doing nearly everything for her. The facility had been built assuming all the ponies inside had the power of flight, after all. Even going from her office to the outside courtyards was somewhat of a challenge.

At this point you were still willing to put up with anything for the mare. Every time you watched her get up from her chair, or even shift her weight, you could still sometimes see her clutch her wing in tight against her body reflexively. Each time you saw it, your heart felt pierced by guilt.

“We need to oversee the practice today, okay?” She said, jumping down from her desk. You were at her side instantly, grabbing the file from her desk outlining the tricks and timeline for the Summer Festival. Even with the champion flier out of commission, she obviously had no intention of disappointing the Princesses.

“Who are we going to get to replace you, though?” You asked. “High Winds sort of knew the routine, but even he admitted he wasn’t fast enough anymore to keep up with Blaze and Soarin’.”

“You worry too much, rookie. I told you last night, I found a pony that can keep up. Plus she’s done the routine before.”

“You can’t mean Misty Fly? We tried her yesterday and she almost knocked out Blaze during the corkscrew! She hasn’t done enough stunt flying to know the tricks yet.” You questioned her.

“I don’t mean Misty Fly either.” Spitfire said, striding confidently down the hallway. She opened the front door to the Academy, letting the bright sun beam inside. For an instant, you could see an outline in the sky, silhouetted by the noontime sun. As it got closer, you could see the typical colored streak shooting through the sky towards you.

For a split second, you froze up. Glancing over at Spitfire, a wave of nervousness and anxiety suddenly washed over you like some awful tide of guilt finally coming in. Your mind started racing. She would have told you, right?

The pegasus descended gracefully, belying the great speed she was hurtling in at. The all too familiar light blue and white swirled contrail followed her form, leaving a wispy cloud like pattern in the sky as she landed. Confidently flipping her mane back, she pulled her well worm goggles off, smiling widely.

“M…mom?”

There was a brief moment of concern as you realized you were just standing there. Your brain fumbled about, trying to wrap around this sudden occurrence. You weren’t ready for this. You knew you were going to have to face her eventually, but this was too soon…

Fleetfoot broke the tension as she trotted towards you happily. “Sweetie…I’m so glad to see you.” She exclaimed, wrapping her strong hooves around you. You felt her well-worn flying suit against your coat, the familiar feeling making your worries fall away. She’d obviously been flying for quite some time, and yet she still smelled like coconut and atmosphere. She cradled you in her hooves as you nuzzled her gently, eyes growing wet with tears.

“Mom…I missed you.” You half croaked, trying to fight back your tears.

“It’s been a long time.” She said softly. “Looks like Spitfire has been taking good care of you.”

You’re unable to keep from blushing at her words. “Y…yeah. She’s been great.”

She leaned forward and kissed you on the forehead, just like always. “My little colt hasn’t given you any trouble, has he?”

“No, he’s been a regular gentleman.” Spitfire told her, smirking at you.

Your face advanced to the next brighter shade of red as you glanced down at your hooves to avoid her gaze. Fleetfoot held you against her in a motherly death grip, as if she couldn’t bear to let you leave her side again. “Oh! If I didn’t know better, I’d say your wings have grown since I was gone?” She said, running a hoof along your back. “You haven’t been letting him fly around here, have you Spitfire?”

The mare laughed nervously. “W…what? This runt flying around my squad? I haven’t gone soft yet, Fleet! He helps me get to work, that’s about it.”

“Well, I hope so. Flying around here is dangerous enough for full grown ponies.” Your mom said, preening your wings as you shuffled awkwardly alongside her. You looked up to see Spitfire trying to stifle a giggle. She was enjoying this.

“Mom…do you really have to do that?”

Fleetfoot stopped, using her hoof to smooth down a few stray feathers. “Alright, alright. I won’t embarrass you in front of the other Wonderbolts anymore. I get it.”

Trying to hold back a snort of laughter, Spitfire thankfully motioned you both out towards the training courtyard.

“Spitfire…how’d you hurt your wing anyways?” Fleetfoot asked as you headed out into the grassy fields.

“It’s a long story.”

Sitting in the bleachers of the amphitheater, you breathe a sigh of relief. Your mom was practicing the routine with Blaze, easily keeping up with the other mare. You sat next to Spitfire as she carefully took notes on their routine.

“You should have told me.” You finally said, speaking out of the side of your muzzle.

Spitfire just kept right on watching the two fliers. “You didn’t need to know. I’m in charge of the flight team, and we needed a replacement. Fleetfoot was the only one that could fill it, and we were fortunate enough to get her back for a week from Saddle Arabia for the festival.”

“I guess, but…” You were feeling ignored. She was treating you like a kid again. “I’m going to have to move back in with mom…” You trailed off.

“No. She leased her apartment out for the summer, remember? She’s staying in the dorms. I told her you could just keep staying at my place.” She said. Spitfire paused, not letting her eyes leave the flying mares. “If you want to, that is.”

“What does it matter? You wouldn’t have called her back if you didn’t want to end what we were…” You stopped at the end. There was no good way to finish that thought.

Spitfire stopped writing for a moment, her eyes still focused on the sky. “You knew what we had together was going to be over at the end of the summer, when she came home. Right?”

“I don’t know what I thought. I just tried not to think about it.” You said quietly.

She looked over at you for a moment, her blazing orange eyes catching the afternoon sun. “That’s why you’re still a rookie.” She said. Spitfire reached out and tousled your mane with her hoof. “For us, this whole summer has to be a dream. You got to fly with the Wonderbolts, and we got to have some fun. At the end of the summer though, you were always going to go back with mom, and I was going to get my privacy back.”

You lowered your eyes, the concrete reality finally hitting home.

“You know what would happen to the both of us if last summer were real.” Spitfire said quietly.

Nodding your head, you let her yellow hoof cradle your head against her side. Fleetfoot and Blaze were finishing up; doing the same trick you had injured Spitfire doing. Feeling strangely detached from the performance, you could glance out of the side of your eye the pair finishing the last passes flawlessly, landing on the grass courtyard triumphantly.

Spitfire raised her pencil again, making a few last notes. “We still have a few weeks left. Let’s have some fun, okay rookie?”

“Okay.”

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.” You muttered, riding down on the elevator with Spitfire.

“What? It’s almost like you’re taking your marefriend to meet your mom for the first time.” She said, chuckling. She tousled your mane lightly, and you stuck a hoof up to stop her. You didn’t actually style it often, and you wanted it to stay put.

“Hey! C’mon, I’m trying to look fancy here!” You said, pushing her hooves away. “Besides, you’ve known my mom since I was a foal. It’s not like you’re meeting her for the first time.”

Spitfire grabbed your head firmly, sticking her muzzle next to your cheek. “Yes…but not as your marefriend.” She said softly, before rubbing her muzzle to yours playfully. You could smell her deeply as she held herself close to you. A feeling of dread washed over you as you realized she was in one of her moods. As if to reinforce your fears, you felt her hoof rub across your flank, playing with your tail as she wrapped around to the front of your…

“You can’t!” You blurted out. “Not tonight! My mom’s meeting us right downstairs, and we’re going out to eat, and…”

She put her free hoof to your muzzle, motioning for you to be silent, while she caressed you with her other hoof, drawing her soft fetlocks over your sheath, tickling it. You bit your lip as you could feel yourself starting to get into it.

“I told you yesterday, we’re going to have some fun before the end of the summer, right?” She nearly whispered into your ear. Her hoof was stroking you gently now as Spitfire grinned, nuzzling softly against you.

Gasping as she rubbed quickly against your sensitive glans, you nearly fell into her as your knees turned against you. Her powerful frame easily held you as she worked you harder, her muzzle suddenly growing busy as she nipped playfully along your neck. As your breath quickened you could smell her own arousal, quickly filling the cramped elevator with her musky sex.

You barely heard the faint ding as the elevator found the ground floor, the doors sliding open quietly. The feeling of her suddenly stopping caused you to bolt upright as the doors opened, suddenly trying to both stand up straight and hide your colthood from the public.

But there weren’t any strangers waiting for the lift today. Just a solitary light blue mare.

You instantly contort your body, trying to hide yourself. Fleetfoot just continues her smile. “Hey! Are you guys all set for dinner?” She asked innocently.

Could she not have noticed? Was it possible?

As if she heard your fears, your mother moved towards you, opening her hooves. She wanted a hug. Oh gods no. Not now. Spitfire smirked at your predicament, tapping your rump and pushing you gently towards her. You give the mare the most awkward hug you could imagine, as you contort yourself to keep from poking her with your extra appendage.

“Oh, this is going to be fun.” Spitfire whispered, as the three of you left the apartment complex and flew into the busy Clousdale night.

Why, out of all the places to eat in this city, did it have to be here?

The same dimly lit atmosphere. The same wall of bottles lining the wall. If you didn’t know better, it was the same discrete waiter as well.

Only this time, his knowing smile seemed to be focused on you.

“Spitfire used to come here all the time with me when we were in the Academy together!” Fleetfoot said warmly, sipping lightly at her wine. “I just love this place. It’s so out of the way, it always feels like you’re in your own private restaurant.”

Spitfire grinned at the other mare. “Yeah, it was great. Whenever we needed a girls’ night out, we’d slip away and just have a nice quiet meal. The old diner is great for getting rowdy, but sometimes you need a quiet night, you know?”

“Those were some great times, Spits.” Your mom said with a hint of wistfulness in her voice.

“Were you two close?” You asked.

Fleetfoot gave you an odd look. “Well, as close as two flight partners could be, I guess. We did almost everything together. It was important to form a bond. A lot of the routines take a lot of coordination, right? So you need to be really close to your partner. You just have to trust them completely. Trust that they’ll never let anything happen to you.”

As your mom talked, Spitfire was running her hoof up and down your leg. She was devouring you with her eyes, stalking you from across the table. As you heard your mother’s stories about the pair, you couldn’t help but wonder. There was no way she and Spitfire…

You nearly jumped out of your seat as Spitfire’s hoof cupped your colthood, squeezing it. You looked over at your mother, smiling at you. You slunk back into your chair, trying to disappear.

“Um, excuse me for a second.” You croaked, rushing from the table to the nearby bathrooms.

Fleetfoot only watched you, a quizzical look on her face. “That’s weird. How’d he know right where the bathroom was?”

You were only in the bathroom a few moments before she came in behind you. Dabbing cool water on your perspiring forehead, you looked at her intently in the mirror. She had a past, obviously. Maybe you just didn’t want to think about it before.

“You didn’t…” You started out, immediately finding it hard to even ask the question.

“You mean fool around with Fleetfoot? Of course not. I mean, I’m not going to lie to you. We’ve all tried out the home team, so to speak, right?” Spitfire said casually. She could read your expression though, immediately realizing her words, giving you a little grin. “I guess maybe it’s a little too early for you.”

There was a moment of awkward tension between both of you. Her steely demeanor faced off against the incredulous look only a pony questioning another pony about bucking his mother could effectively pull off.

“Look. I wouldn’t have done this to you, if Fleetfoot and I…” She finally said.

You knew you believed her before she even said it.

“I know.”

The mare walked up and put her hoof on your shoulder. You were thankful for once that her touch was friendly, finally looking away from the mirror and meeting her fiery eyes. She gently touched her muzzle to yours, intimately nuzzling you.

“I realize I’ve been a little selfish, too.” Spitfire said softly. “I’m feeling a little under the weather, too. I think you should just catch up with your mom. I’m gonna take off and leave you to it, okay kid?”

“Thanks.” You whispered back, breathing in her scent as she cradled your head and neck to hers.

“I’ll see you later tonight, then?”

“Yeah.” You said. “How are you going to get home, though? I could help you fly there…”

“It’s okay. Blaze is going to come get me. You have a good visit with your mom rookie.”

You watched her push open the door, walking out into the dim restaurant. This was very strange for her. Usually when she got into her moods, she wouldn’t let you refuse her. She always got what she wanted. Not that you usually were complaining about it.

The quiet of the tiled lavatory overtook you, as you slumped over the counter. A massive wave of relief washed over you. You thought back as far as you could. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been this happy to just be spending a quiet night with your mother. You checked yourself one last time in the mirror, before pushing the door open and heading back to your table.

“Spitfire said she had to head home. I guess it’s just us now.” You said, sitting back down next to Fleetfoot.

“She told me before she left. I think she felt like she was being a third wheel.” Fleetfoot said. “She always could read situations pretty well. She’s a very empathetic pony, even though she doesn’t look like it at all on the outside. So, how did you like staying with her for the last couple months?”

You didn’t have to think about it long. “It was definitely something else.” You said honestly.

Your mom smiled at the thought. “Something else is definitely the right phrase. I don’t think I’ve ever meet anypony else like her.”

Fleetfoot reached out and grabbed a fresh roll, buttering it heavily. “She told me about your little secret, too.” She said, nibbling her roll daintily.

Feeling your body grow cold, you grasped the table nervously. “W…what do you mean?”

She just kept munching happily. “Oh really. You didn’t think you could keep it a secret from your own mother? After all, Spitfire ended up in the hospital because of it.”

“Huh?”

“The fact she’s been letting you do stunts at the Academy. I can’t say I approve at all of it.” Fleetfoot said coldly. You relaxed in your seat as relief washed over you. “It’s still too dangerous at your age. You’re lucky she was there to save your rump. You know how I feel about you flying with the Wonderbolts before you’re old enough.”

“You’re right, mom. I’m really sorry.” You said, sighing in relief.

Fleetfoot grabbed another roll. She always had had a hefty appetite. “Spitfire explained that it was mostly her fault. I’m not going to hold it against her. After all…the two of us never were good with rules, I suppose. I just wanted to let you know that you shouldn’t worry about it. I’m not going to punish you for it. I think seeing what Spitfire did to herself saving you was punishment enough.”

You simply nodded at the mare. It certainly had been.

“It’s alright, honey. I’m sure other ponies already told you this, but there’s no reason to beat yourself up over it. Wonderbolts need to be extra strong when accidents happen. We need to be strong enough for ourselves and the ponies that got hurt. And I heard you’ve been helping Spitfire around. So I’m very proud of my little colt.” Fleetfoot said, smiling warmly at you.

Your heart twisted up at the kind words. You felt simply horrible hiding your secret from her now.

“I hope she isn’t being too demanding. Spitfire isn’t the kind of pony that accepts help from others very willingly. She must trust you very much.”

You nodded back at her. Words weren’t going to be happening right now.

The fact you had felt so close to being exposed weighed heavily on you more and more throughout the meal. Your veggie lasagna felt tasteless in your mouth as your mind raced. You realized this was the best time. She had to be told sometime, right? Spitfire had said not to, though. She might get in trouble if you told; she may even lose her job.

There was no good way to tell your mom that her oldest friend was nailing an underage colt that happened to be her son, however. At least no way that you could think of.

As Fleetfoot received her dessert, you knew this was when you had to speak up. She needed to know. A wild desperate hope sprung up the more you thought about it. Maybe she’d be okay with it? After all, Fleetfoot had been talking about how they disregarded rules all the time when they were younger. And she obviously thought of Spitfire as almost a sister. She might accept it, right?

You drew from deep inside to even start the sentence. Fleetfoot was thoughtfully eating a small piece of tiramisu, as you met her gaze. She stopped eating, immediately recognizing your fearful look. “Mom…I think we really need to talk about something. Something about Spitfire…”

“Hm?” She said, swallowing her piece of cake. “What about her?”

Leaning in over the table, you glanced sideways nervously to ensure you were alone. “I have to tell you something about her, mom. Something I was told in secret; that I wasn’t supposed to tell anypony about. Not even you. But…but I can’t keep it inside, okay? I just can’t keep it from you…”

“Oh. You mean THAT.” Fleetfoot said, suddenly whispering. “Of course I know about that. Why else did you think I flew in special? I didn’t come just for a silly Summer festival.”

“You…you know?”

“Of course, silly! I’m a little surprised she told you, though.” Fleetfoot said.

“Told…me?” You were suddenly quite confused.

“Well I suppose it’s because you’ve gotten really close this summer. But yeah, I’m the only other person she told. I just figured I was the only one that knew. If word got out, it could hurt her position at the Academy you know.” Fleetfoot said, her voice growing serious.

‘Well of course it would hurt her position at the Academy!’, you thought, growing more bewildered by the second.

“It’s going to be a big change for her. I know how much of a bachelor life she leads.” Fleetfoot giggled. “I guess even keeping you there for the summer was a big change for her. But this…this is going to be another level altogether. She’s may even need to get someone to take care of things while she goes to work. I think it might just be too big of a challenge for her.”

“Take care of what?” Your voice trailed out, your face suddenly becoming ashen.

“The foal, of course. Why else do you think she’s been taking it so easy after that injury. You didn’t really think a bruised wing would keep a Wonderbolt down?” Fleetfoot explained, a matter-of-fact look on her face. “I’m sure you must have known by now.”

“Of…of course. Of course I knew.” You said quietly. You felt the feeling slipping from your hooves as you flopped back into your chair. There was no way. It’s couldn’t have been…it had to be that giant meathead’s foal. That must be right. Yeah. That made perfect sense. It couldn’t be yours. Gods. Even saying ‘yours’ wracked your thoughts with more emotion than you could handle.

“Are you okay?” Your mom asked. “Your face is as white as a ghost.”

No. You weren’t alright. Not at all. Your breathing quickened to an unnatural pace, and your heart raced inside your chest. Your vision failed you as you slumped forward, toppling out of the chair, fainting in front of your mother. As the world faded out, you could vaguely feel the worn carpeting on your face, the smell of marinara sauce assaulting your senses as you blacked out.

Author's Note

I apologize for the time between updates. I sat down with this one a few times and just couldn't put the words down describing where I wanted the plot to go. I am pretty satisfied with it now, though. It was a big part of the plot and I wanted to get it right.