Hearth's Warming Her Cold Shoulder
"Hearth's Warming Her Cold Shoulder"
“And we are… done!” Rainbow shouted. She slammed shut her notebook and hopped down from behind the long desk. Her forelegs cleared the table of stray pages, notebooks, and quills until her gleaming cerise eyes reflected against the mahogany table.
While she was hurriedly cramming her saddlebag with the study materials, Soarin was stretching across the width of the table. His forelegs trembled as he strained his muscles. Finally giving up, he slumped onto the table. “Phew, that took forever. I didn’t think the captain would have so many old flight shows for us to review.”
“Uh huh.” Rainbow’s tongue was hanging out. Her front hooves were wildly slamming against her bag. “C’mon! Close!” She squinted and pushed forward until the metal latch on her bag finally clicked.
“Somepony’s in a hurry!” Soarin sat up in his chair and stared down at the panting mare. “I know it’s a half-day, but try to show some restraint. Captain Spitfire would have your mane on a platter if she saw how much of a hurry you were in to leave!”
Rainbow lifted the bag over her back. As it fell from her mouth she gave a cocky smirk to her instructor. “Nope. She’d have your mane on the platter! I’m just in the reserves, Mr. Wonderbolt. You’re supposed to be keeping me in line!”
“Oh, yeah.” Soarin rolled his eyes. “Like I’d have much luck in that department…”
“You say somethin’?” Rainbow looked back and cocked her head to the side. “Anyway, I’ll see ya in a few days. I need to get back to Ponyville, make a snow storm, rinse off, and then head over to AJ’s for the Hearth’s Warming Eve party. Offer still stands if you wanna come with!”
“Nah, I’m good. Thanks though, Dash. I, uh, have some stuff to finish up before I head home.” Soarin abandoned his notes on the table and walked Rainbow Dash to the door of his office. The walls were plastered with highlighted lines of text, flight paths from former routines, and even the daily schedules of each Wonderbolt. Just the tip of the iceberg for a day in the life of these famous fliers.
“Suit yourself! More cider and cookies for me!” Rainbow squeed. “Catch ya after the holidays, Soarin.” She galloped down the hall toward the door at the far end of the building. As her wings unfurled Soarin walked back into the office and examined his workspace.
“Okay, just gotta clean up a bit and then I can kick off my own holidays plans.” A scheming grin spread across his muzzle.
. . . . . .
Hearth’s Warming Eve was a holiday celebrated every year in Equestria. It signified the fires of friendship and unity among all three races of ponies. The holiday was a constant reminder that Equestria could never thrive under bitterness or hatred. Though for most colts and fillies it just meant opening presents next to the warming glow of a fireplace. Because of this celebration, the Wonderbolt Academy had closed early. With so many parties and get-togethers scheduled for the evening, many Equestrian businesses started the habit of closing early each year.
Though one light was still shining in the window of the acclaimed institute…
Spitfire groaned as her head fell onto the stack of papers on her desk. The stressed pegasus massaged her temples through her fiery mane, which was practically dipping itself into the inkwell aside her paperwork. Her two-toned orange mane was a sharp contrast to the blue-maned stallion poking his head into the room.
“Knock, knock!” Soarin said while tapping his hoof against the glass window of her door.
Spitfire lifted her head and grumbled. She wiped the sticky note from her muzzle and narrowed her eyes. “Soarin… I’m a little busy here. What’s up?”
“Oh, nothing. Just checking in on my favorite captain! Ya know, the academy closed half an hour ago.”
“I’m aware of the time, lieutenant.” Spitfire lowered her head and started reading through her forms once again.
“Will you… be staying much longer?” Soarin chuckled nervously.
Spitfire huffed and slammed the paper against her desk. “Most likely. Especially if somepony doesn’t make like the wind and blow outta here!”
“Ah. Gotcha… Any plans tonight, captain?” The rest of Soarin’s body appeared from around the corner. He was now standing in the doorway. This stallion was one of the few who could get away with harassing Spitfire.
“Just the usual. Not much planned.”
“It is Hearth’s Warming Eve, you know?” Soarin fiddled with the goggles over his eyes. “Just thought maybe you’d be going home to your family or something.”
Spitfire removed her dark glasses. “Oh? Another holiday where all the ponies get together to tear open presents and stuff themselves full of food?” She snarled. “I’ll pass. It’s just a bunch of nonsense.”
“But-“ Soarin’s voice was cut off as Spitfire continued her lecture.
“You don’t get anywhere at this academy by running off and playing all the time. There’s a reason I’m the captain. I gave up everything I had in order to dedicate myself to the job. I’ve missed more holidays with my family than I can count. What’s one more?” Spitfire shifted her eyes away from Soarin. “This place runs like clockwork now. Our shows bring in more crowds and more bits than ever before. So, no; I won’t be playing out in the snow with the rest of you. I have a job to do. As much as I’d love to have free time it just isn’t in the cards, Soarin.” Her booming voice trailed off into the empty halls behind Soarin.
Like usual, Spitfire had cornered the speechless stallion with another show of her bravado. While the gears in his head attempted to click in place, Spitfire grabbed a quill in her mouth and scribbled on the scroll hanging down to her lap. She placed a checkmark in an empty box and spit the quill from her mouth. When she lowered the scroll she noticed Soarin was still in her office. Except now he was sitting on his flank with a present extended toward her.
“If you’re trying to butter me up for a holiday bonus, it ain’t gonna work.”
“Sheesh, someone has a humbug up their rump.” Soarin flinched as a notepad was lobbed at him. It exploded against the wall and the loose papers landed around him as if the snow was falling inside the building. Then again, no snow would stand a chance against the fiery attitude of the fearless captain. “W-what I meant to say was that I just got you a little something in the spirit of the holiday.”
Spitfire sighed. “It was very nice of you, Soarin. But like I said, I don’t have time for presents and goofing around.”
“Not even to go out and grab a bite to eat? C’mon, captain – no – Spitfire! I’ll help you finish this boring paperwork tomorrow. Let’s just go stretch our wings for a bit and relax. Ya know, like we did before you were promoted.” Soarin lowered the present onto the floor. “In fact, you’re not getting your present unless you come out with me! All of this,” he waved his foreleg from one side of the room to the other, “will be here whether you stay all night or come back tomorrow.”
“Sorry, Soarin. Just go down to Ponyville with Dash. She wouldn’t shut up about her party. I’m sure it’ll be great…”
“I already told her that I had other plans.” He lifted the present and shook the box back and forth. “Plans that you’re making very difficult!”
Spitfire groaned and pushed her chair away from the desk. She hopped onto all fours and trotted over to the stubborn subordinate. “You make my life very difficult, lieutenant. You never quit, do you?” She pushed her nose against his and glared. “But I guess that’s why I keep you around.”
“So… Old Sky Pub? Cloudsdale?” Soarin squeed excitedly.
“I expect that you’ll be lending me all four hooves on these reports tomorrow. Like you said, this work will be waiting no matter what. Now get outta my way! I’ll meet you at the pub in two hours.”
. . . . . .
The Old Sky Pub was a popular dining destination in Cloudsdale. It was one of the most successful and longest running hot spots the night life had to offer. Though it generally catered to the rowdier crowd of ponies, some recent renovations made it an ideal choice for a dinner date. While Soarin and Spitfire weren’t the oldest pegasi to call Cloudsdale home they also weren’t the type to hoof-pump and party until all hours of the morning. Just the fact that Spitfire was leaving the confines of her desk was reason enough to celebrate.
Upon entering the pub, the only obstacles separating a pony from a strong glass of cider and some loud beats were a bouncer, a few marble steps, and the inevitable wait around the bar. Luckily, Soarin was already seated at the bar and halfway through his first mug of cider. Directly behind him were scattered clusters of partying ponies. On the other side of that rabble was the dance floor and DJ. Tonight was an especially wild night. The infamous Vinyl Scratch was flown up to Cloudsdale for a Hearth’s Warming Eve party. Luckily for her the spell books for temporarily walking on clouds weren’t hard to find.
The night took a strange turn when one mare drew the attention of the entire club. The music stopped and everypony turned to face one very shocked Spitfire.
“Awww yeah! We even got some Wonderbolts with us tonight! Let’s give it up for Captain Spitfire!” Vinyl adjusted her glasses and proceeded to blast more cloud-thumping beats. The ponies cheered and raised their mugs to the embarrassed captain.
Spitfire brought a wing out to cover her face and stomped over to Soarin. “I knew this was a bad idea! Why do I ever listen to you?!” She huddled closer to him to avoid the heavy traffic passing by.
“Oh yeah, what a tough life. You walk into a club and everypony cheers for you.” Soarin finished his cider and placed a bit on the counter. “You always say you carry the pride of the squadron on your shoulders!”
“Yeah, for performance and interviews! Ponies are going to think I’m some sort of lush showing up at clubs!” She kept her wing up while she spoke. Though Spitfire was a hotshot in the skies, she didn’t have the nonstop flight to Egoville like Rainbow Dash. “There’s a time and place for-“
“Relax!” Soarin interrupted her. “Besides, we’re not staying down here. Old folks like us on the dance floor? No way! Let the youngsters tackle each other. I reserved a much nicer table for us, oh captain, my captain!”
The empty bar stool wobbled in place as Soarin hopped down to Spitfire’s level. He motioned his head toward the doorway at the far end of the bar. Spitfire obliged and followed him; keeping her head tucked against her body to avoid any additional exposure. Luckily, the crowd was thinning as they distanced themselves from the bar. Soarin stopped and pushed the door open with a foreleg.
Spitfire’s eyebrow rose as she examined the spiraling staircase leading to an unknown destination. “It looks like you’re taking me to an old attic…”
“Not quite! But you’re welcome to keep guessing!” Soarin winced as Spitfire walked past and smacked him in the face with her tail. “Mares first.” Like usual, Soarin wasn’t fazed by Spitfire’s rude behavior.
She ran her hoof along the old railing being careful not to get any splinters stuck in her fur. The noise below was becoming a distant memory as a new sensation filled her ears. “It sounds like the attic has a leak…”
“I’m not taking you to an attic!” Soarin planted a hoof against his face.
The stairs ended and another wooden door blocked the path; except this door was crafted from a darker wood. The polished surface was a welcomed change from the old railing that would most likely break off if somepony placed too much weight upon it.
“Well, don’t you want to see the attic?” Soarin teased.
Spitfire pushed the door open and took a step back. Soarin almost tumbled down the stairs in the process.
A proper dining room was laid out before them. Neatly ironed sheets of cloth hung down from each table. One of the walls was removed and a grandiose balcony was overlooking the Equestrian landscape below. The waiters were dressed in tuxedos, while even the barkeeps stepped up their game with pressed collared shirts. Not at all like the rabble downstairs.
“W-where are we?” Spitfire’s mouth was still hanging open.
“Old Sky Pub. Duh.” Soarin gaited past and approached the waiter. “Reservation for two under Soarin.” He looked back to Spitfire. “We can always go back downstairs if you want.”
Spitfire shook her head and hurried after the stallions. “I didn’t even know this place existed!” Her head twisted to inspect the waterfall running behind the bar. Only a sheet of glass separated the water from dowsing barrels of Equestria’s finest cider.
“We are quite new ma’am!” The waiter stopped in front of the table and used his wing to fluff the chair-shaped cloud. She took a seat while he continued. “Our owner wanted to create an atmosphere that was unique from the everyday party crowd you saw below. The only problem was that a river ran over top our property. After some negotiations we were able to divert the river into the waterfall behind the bar, run it underneath the floor, and have it pour from under this balcony to the world below. It is truly a spectacle to behold when Luna’s moon reflects against the droplets of the falling water. Please, take your seats. The gentlecolt has already ordered your meals and we will bring them out shortly. Enjoy your stay and do not hesitate to ask for anything at all.” He slicked back his blonde mane and bowed before departing.
“Here I thought we were just going to grab some hay fries and complain about work.” Spitfire smirked and nestled into the puffy support of her chair. “I think this cloud’s even comfier than my own bed…”
“They just opened the place!” Soarin flicked the covering from the warm bread basket on the table and tore a piece from the loaf. “I remember we used to hang out downstairs all the time after flight school. Then we got bumped up to active duty, and then…” His chewing of the bread slowed.
“Then I became the captain…” Spitfire sighed and fumbled with the bread. “Don’t reminisce about the old days, Soarin. They’re gone. No point in living in the past.”
“Hey, all I’m saying is you need to get out more. Ponies wouldn’t be so shocked to see you in public if you acted like a normal mare.”
Spitfire angrily tore the bread apart and tossed it into her mouth. “You’re far from normal! There’s a reason you’re still a lieutenant!”
“Yeah, there’s a reason… But I don’t mind. Not really looking to climb the ranks right now.” Soarin leaned back and closed his eyes. “Guess I still have my ‘head in the clouds’ like you always said.”
“Big talk from a stallion who originally just wanted to be a weather pony…” Spitfire was startled as a plate of vegetable soup was placed in front of her.
Soarin rubbed his hooves together when the extra large slice of steaming apple pie was presented to him. “Sweet Celestia, look at you…”
Spitfire’s verbal attack pattern was broken as she stared at her drooling companion. “Soarin… Soarin!”
“Huh?”
“Wipe your muzzle!” Spitfire hunched down in her seat.
Soarin dried his mouth with the napkin and placed it on his lap. “Whoops… my bad.”
“This is just like the Ponyville Pie Convention!” Spitfire blew on her soup and watched the vapor swirl over the edge of the balcony.
“This is just one slice!”
“Extra large slice…” Spitfire muttered.
“It’s Hearth’s Warming Eve! It’s okay to pig out a bit!”
Spitfire lifted the bowl between her hooves and breathed in the aroma of the soup broth. She placed her lips against the edge of the bowl and tilted it back. The warmth immediately spread throughout her body as she heartily gulped down the melt-in-your-mouth vegetable pieces. “This is… amazing.” A dribble of soup slid down her chin fur.
“The pie’s even better!” Soarin was pushing the pie into his mouth. He was more of a biting machine designed to annihilate pastries than a pony chewing on a meal for sustenance. “Fresh apples and baked when you order! I knew when we’d be getting here, so I ordered ahead of time.” He chuckled. “And I know you don’t want a gut like me, so I got you the soup.”
“I’d be demoted if I had to lug around that pie-filled sack you call a stomach, Soarin.” Spitfire wiped her chin and relished the flavors still lingering on her taste buds. “You know… the last time we were together was at that pie convention.”
“Okay, you can stop bringing it up!”
Spitfire glared across the table. “What I meant was that we haven’t done anything since then. Has it really been that long since we’ve caught up?”
Soarin nodded with the plate held up to his face.
“Huh… Never realized how much time has gone by. Dash wasn’t even in the reserves yet. Now she’s studying and getting ready to actually try out for a spot on the team.” Spitfire ignored her soup and stared up into the dark sky.
“She’s a fast learner. It’ll all come down to how much she remembers and if she can stay in formation during the trial runs.”
Spitfire ran her hoof around the lip of the bowl. “She’ll probably be a captain someday…”
“If you’re worried about her taking your job then you can stop right now. Nopony can manage the squad like you do. Though I could definitely see her as your wingpony. Guess old Soarin would have to go back to weather school and work at the factory!”
“Ugh… don’t even joke about the weather factory. It’s their fault I’m so behind lately! The foreman was supposed to be coordinating this big competition for next year, but he backed out and dropped the responsibilities on me! Now I’m stuck buried in paperwork, planning the rules, trying to get permits for a new arena...” Spitfire huffed and grabbed the bowl once again. This time she chugged the remainder of the soup and slammed the empty bowl onto the table. “You know what? I could use some cider. Lots of it. Hurry up and finish that pie, lieutenant. That’s an order!”
. . . . . .
After a few rounds of cider and small talk about their lives, Spitfire was starting to act more pleasant. The gruff superior was always able to come out at a moment’s notice, but she was certainly showing more appreciation for her night away from the academy.
The two ponies were leaning against the railing and watching the snow fall in the distance. The view offered by the pub balcony seemed to stretch on forever. With a clear sky below Cloudsdale, a pony could stare out to the world below for miles and miles. There were no worries about paperwork. No stress from planning an airshow. Only two friends creating a new memory to share together.
“Thanks… for taking me out tonight.”
Soarin watched as some colts flew by the balcony dressed in heavy coats and winter hats. “It was my pleasure. I was starting to worry about you.”
“You’ve always been like that.” Spitfire breathed into her hooves and rubbed her shoulders. “Even when we were just recruits at the academy. Seemed like you were always trying to get me away from my duties.”
“It’s not healthy to work all the time. You’ll always be a great captain. Even if you take a few nights off.” Soarin turned his head and watched the wind comb through her mane. “You know-“
“Let me guess: you wanna give me my present?” Spitfire smirked.
“Oh, right! How could I forget?” Soarin vanished from the balcony’s edge and wandered back over to the table.
Spitfire breathed in the fresh air and closed her eyes. In that moment, a blindfold was draped over her face. “S-Soarin! What’s the big idea?”
“Surprise gift! Believe me; you’re going to wonder how you ever went through life without one of these. I hoof-picked it myself. Nopony else at the academy will you one of these anytime soon!”
“I swear, if you open a can and snakes burst into my face again I’m going to make you fly laps until you fall to the ground!” Spitfire blushed. She wasn’t a fan of surprises. Living her life by a schedule everyday had ruined the allure of any unexpected happenings.
Soarin pushed the box into her reaching hooves. “No snakes! I promise! Besides, that was one time ages ago! What is with you and remembering all the bad things I do?!”
Spitfire gently placed her hooves on the top of the box while Soarin held on tight. The lid fell to the ground and she reached inside.
There was a lot more tissue paper than she expected. It was falling to the floor faster and faster as she searched the box for her gift. Then her hoof struck the bottom of the cardboard box. Though her eyes were covered anypony could tell she was upset.
“Did you… wrap an empty box?”
“What?! It’s not in there?” Soarin pulled the box away and inspected the inside. Nothing. “No… I-I…”
Spitfire sighed and pulled the blindfold off with her wing. “You’re such a-“
The blindfold fell past Spitfire’s blushing cheeks, her gaping mouth, and down to her hooves. Despite her dry mouth, she tried to swallow in an attempt to remind herself that she still had control of her body. Her wide eyes trembled as she struggled to focus on the object hanging from the tip of Soarin’s wing.
Mistletoe.
Soarin was looking relaxed as usual. Save for a few pieces of pie crumbs stuck in his fur, he even looked dashing under the light of the moon. “Heh, guess the box wasn’t empty after all.”
Spitfire blinked and watched the tiny plant dangle above their heads.
“I kept thinking about what to get you for Hearth’s Warming Eve. You’re a real tough customer to shop for. And lately you’ve been one nasty mare; stressed or not. The Spitfire I flew with growing up knew how to balance work and play. She knew how to have fun. So quit pushing everypony away.” Soarin leaned forward. He could feel her panicked breath against his nose as he inched closer.
“Soarin… Don’t-“
“And the reason I don’t want to become a captain? Easy. Who’s going to look after your flank if they transfer me somewhere else? It’ll be a lot harder to kiss you if I’m training a squadron in Las Pegasus.”
He pressed his lips against hers and closed his eyes. With one quick motion he wrapped his wings around her body and shielded her from the cold winds.
Finally, the mistletoe fell to the ground and both ponies pulled away from one another.
“So if you need somepony to vent to, somepony to handle all your paperwork, or somepony to burn the midnight oil with you; you’ll never have to look very far. Your trusty lieutenant plans on sticking around for as long as you need, captain.”
Spitfire placed a hoof against the railing and exhaled. “I never thought you’d pull something like this in a million years… Sneaking your superior officer out on a date and then kissing her?” She turned to him with a smile on her face. The tip of her wing removed the liquid accumulating in her eyes. “I-I’ll see to it you never make captain!”
“Aww darn. Stuck as your wingpony forever? I may need to request a transfer.”
Spitfire stomped forward and glared. “Oh no. You’re not getting away that easily! I’m not handling all the duties at the academy and planning out the Cloudsdale Rumble on my own. Get ready for some long nights, Soarin. You’re not going anywhere until the work is done!”
“And it never is…”
“Exactly.” She planted a kiss on his cheek. “Now stretch those wings, lieutenant. We’re crashing Dash’s party.”
Soarin bent over and attempted to scoop up the mistletoe, but Spitfire’s hoof crushed the plant against the marble floor.
“I don’t need a plant to remember tonight.” She tightened her scarf and opened her wings. “It’s not only the stupid things you do that I remember.” Spitfire watched as Soarin lifted his body away from the remnants of the mistletoe. “Besides, I didn’t get you a gift.”
Soarin sighed and rubbed the back of his mane. “You are cold to the bitter end, Spitfire,”
“Then I guess you have your work cut out for you.” She nuzzled against the side of his head and placed her mouth to his twitching ear. “Happy Hearth’s Warming Eve, Soarin. And thank you. I’ll never forget this.”
He rested his head against hers and chuckled. “What happened to not showing affection to a superior officer? Am I allowed to be this close to you?”
Spitfire hopped onto the edge of the balcony and readied for takeoff. “Five hundred laps tomorrow. And you’re not leaving until every last form on my desk is completed and filed.”
Soarin dropped a bag of bits onto the table and sighed. “Yes, ma’am.”
“So shake a leg and let’s go!” She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “I’m not leaving without my wingpony.”
/) The End (\
