A Chance of Fire

Flying, sweat, panting, and tattered uniforms: the ingredients Spitfire knew were of a well-made and trained group of flyers. Her flyers, the Wonderbolts, were of pristine measure. They could do several Buccaneer Blazes without spinning out of control and careening straight for the ground in a fiery mess of feathers and broken bones. Her team could work together to make the most basic moves look like the most complicated pieces to a puzzle. She knew they were great.

"Spitfire, how are you not tired?"

And so was she.

She smiled at her second in command, whose dark blue mane looked like a mop's wet end. "Soarin, I've been through this course too many times to be tired," she said, her wings jutting from her tattered uniform. "Doesn't mean I didn't break a sweat though."

She watched as Soarin approached her, his eyes roving towards her chest. He smelled like death, she thought, which, in her mind, was worse than going through the Wonderbolt Academy's Training Camp again. Her eyes felt like they were on fire, her nose was to the point of being numb, and her eyebrows felt like they burned off into the wind. She needed some air freshener on this stallion, and stat.

"Soarin, take a shower. You smell like a cadet who forgot his magic freshener." Should probably have told him to use extra soap...

Soarin raised a brow. "You know I just took a shower, right?"

She gasped. "So that means..."

"You smell like death!" Soarin shouted and flipped on his back. The stallion laughed loudly, drawing the attention of the others who were having a pleasant conversation about stunts and why having stunt doubles would be overrated. Spitfire frowned as she brought her nose to her right leg's pit. She sniffed and—

"Holy--" Spitfire was interrupted by the sudden urge to gag. "I do smell like death!"

Spitfire wasn't joking either. She had never broken this much of a sweat before. Back in the days of cadethood, she had flown to the point of passing out. In those days, Soarin had commented that she smelled like death, but that was because of hardwork, agonizing exercises, and hours upon hours of  stretching and wing-ups. Today, however, was different. She had worked hard, but not as hard as her younger self. She exercised, surely, but it wasn't strenuous. She did stretch today too, but not as much as she usually does.

So why does she smell so bad?

Soarin's laughing began to subside as she looked at him with disdain. "Soarin... did you do something to me?"

Soarin shook his head. "No, Spitfire. I didn't do that at all!"

Spitfire came closer to his face, which began to ooze with sweat that dripped from his already wet mane. "What do you mean by 'that'?"

"U-Umm. Nothing, ma'am!" Soarin replied through clenched teeth and eyes that screamed 'I definitely did something to you'.

She sighed. "Meet me in the cafeteria, all right? We've gotta talk about what you did."

"But I did'n—"

She shoved a hoof into his mouth. "This has you labeled all over it, Soarin." She smirked. "I can see it in your eyes."

He pulled her hoof away from his mouth and frowned. "All right, I'll meet you down there."

She smiled. "Good." Before she turned away, she flicked her sweaty tail at his muzzle. "I can't wait to hear about this story."

A smile wormed onto his face. He couldn't wait either. With some lift in his step, the stallion walked down the hall, heading straight for the cafeteria.

"So, why did you what you did to me, Soarin?"

Soarin twiddled his hooves. "I thought you would've asked what I did to you first..."

"I smell bad, Soarin. I know what you did to me. I just want to know why," Spitfire explained.

She simrked as she saw his face turn red. "It was for a bet, Spitfire..."

"A bet?" She looked around to make sure it was just the two of them. Lucky for her, the cafeteria was empty. It was just the two of them sitting there at a blue table.

"Yeah, a bet..." He began, his forehooves clip-clopping together. "The bet was made due to the team thinking I wasn't doing my job as your second in command. I told them I was doing fine, but they said it was not good enough. So, I gave into their bet."

She gawked at Soarin. "Why..."

"Why would I agree with them?" Soarin asked.

She heard the depressed state of his voice. It was low and lost, begging for some pony to come and save it. She heard this once before, when Soarin came to her room in despair the night she had broken her wings. He was upset, knowing that he had to take her place. He didn't like that at all.

In fact, she knew what he did like. He liked her. She knew it in the bottom of her heart. Whenever they raced, the two of them would be so happy. She would see him glancing at her with his dumb ol' smile plastered on his face. At lunch, he would only smile when she was talking to her, but with his friends, he was slightly different. The smile felt fake.

She also knew that they could never date. Something about a relationship would spoil their team chemistry or what not (at least, Spitfire knew this from the CEO, who actually owned the team). The boss wanted to avoid this entire relationship among members so that the media didn't destroy their personal lives. As of right now, the CEO already had enough problems with the Media. She didn't want anymore additional issues to deal with.

So Spitfire and Soarin never dated. Soarin has asked and she had to decline. She couldn't. She just couldn't. There's too much at stake.

No, there isn't, I'm just being a Captain, not Spitfire.

Somewhere deep inside her cried out in response. "Yes, how could you?"

The sudden angered flair threw Soarin out of the loop, or so she thought, as she saw his eyebrow raise just slightly. "Because you never make jokes like we used to when we first met." Spitfire was about to retort, but he had shut her mouth with his hoof. "No, let me say what I need to say."

She wanted to get angry at him. She wanted to, but she couldn't. So she nodded and let him to the talking.

He smiled at her. "Thank you, Spitfire." He cleared his throat. "You don't smile like you used to. It's as fake as that mask you put on whenever you're practicing a new move or routine. You're like a whole 'nother pony out there commanding us. Surely we're being led rightly, but it's never anything different."

Spitfire frowned. "What do you mean by it being different?"

Soarin got up, slammed his hoof on the table, and glared at her with a burning gaze. "Drills, Spitfire! All you think is drills, drills, and more drills before stumbling off to the bars to get a drink!"

Spitfire got up and slammed her hoof next to his, her glare attempting to match his. "That isn't true Soarin and you know it! I—"

He sighed. "No, it is. I wanted something to change: this pattern of being drilled to death and not being able to hang out with my best friend properly!"

Hang out with my best friend properly!

The thought echoed in her mind, shattering all of what she wanted to say to him. She sat down and buried her face in her hooves. "Then what do you want me to do, Soarin? I'm doing my best to keep this team in top shape for the Prelims in the Crystal Empire for the Equestria Games! All I'm getting is flack from the boss to get everypony ready and—"

Spitfire stopped as she felt his hoof slowly glide over her mane. She looked up and him and saw him gently smiling. "Then enjoy a good prank or two. Heck, maybe even do something else other than planning our next drill set." He picked himself up and sat by her side. "Besides, you and I could go do something for old times sake."

"What do you have in mind, Soarin?"

His face fell. "Wanna go to the movies? I remember you liked going there after school."

Is he asking me out on a date? "You mean the one in Cloudsdale?"

Soarin grinned. "Yep! We went there bunch of times to see the new releases our friends were raving about. Why not go there again?"

Spitfire nudged him as she spoke, "Because you hated Cloudsdale's theater, remember?"

He laughed. "I didn't hate it, I downright despised it for not having what I liked."

"Pie?" Spitfire asked, tilting her head slightly to the right.

"No," he said while looping his forehoof around Spitfire's neck. "Cold Non-Alcoholic Cider."

She giggled. She remembered it now. He hated those theaters for not carrying his drink he had seen in the other theaters. He even cursed out the manager, who was blushing ten fold and stuttering when she tried to respond to him. Spitfire couldn't stop his rampage either as he stormed out with his wings as rigid as ever. Poor ponies got the wrong idea when she came after him, asking for him to stop.

It was embarrassing for the both of them.

"Didn't you shove the greeter on the ground for asking if you had a good time?" Spitfire asked.

Soarin laughed heartily. "Yes! That poor colt's face when I slapped him upside the head with my wing before throwing him to the ground!" He pulled Spitfire closer. "He couldn't keep himself contained!"

She smiled. "Then I guess we'll have to go there again."

He stopped his laughing—rather abruptly—and turned towards Spitfire. "You're serious?"

Spitfire nodded. "Yes, I'll go to the movies with you."

Suddenly, her heart began to soar as she saw him get up, prance around in a circle before hoof-kicking in the air while screaming, "Yes!" as excited as a colt going on his first date—

Date?!

She tried to sigh, but her heart wouldn't let her. She wanted something like this for so long. Going as friends would be difficult though while sitting next to him.

Only as friends, Spitfire...

She tried to calm herself down. She tried. That goofy smile didn't keep her calm, but more so anxious for the movie.

Maybe we could hold hoov—

"Spitfire?"

Soarin's voice knocked Spitfire out of her stupor. "Yes?"

Pawing the ground, her best friend said, "I'm sorry for putting a skunk in the shower's water supply, I—"

"Wait, you WHAT?"

It had happened so quick that evening.

Spitfire, who was racing against the clock to get herself ready for the movies, had restyled her mane—she wore it like this when she was younger with her hair short and laying towards the sides—put one of her great, Fireside pins—Fireside was her favorite restaurant—and matched it all together with a clean, more fresh Spitfire that didn't smell like a skunk's rear end. All in all, she had to make sure the bangs in the front did not go over her eye. That was why she was running late: bang problems.

"Come on, move to the left!" she said, her hoof trying to angle the hair just right.

While she was fiddling with her bangs, a certain someone called her name, which made her freeze in mid-swipe. "S-Soarin?"

A gallop to the door later, she opened it up to peak out. Standing outside was Soarin, whose normally crazy swept back mane was easy to spot. It still was an easy target, but he had used some moose to keep it under control, which was something she never had seen since—

We went to the movies last...

"Hey, Spitfire." He flashed her a smile. "Mind if I come in for a bit?"

She shook her head and opened the door for her friend. "No, not at all."

Slowly but surely the stallion had walked in. He turned and gawked at Spitfire's get-up.

That was not the reaction I was thinking of!

She began to be more nervous as he eyed her up and down.

Does he like it?

"I like..." He tilted his head."...your mane?"

Spitfire's eyes fluttered shut. Why did that sound so awkward? "Thanks," she muttered.

He sighed. "Look, I'm just a bit nervous too. So..." He looked at his hooves. "If I sound awkward, it means my anxiety hit the roof."

Spitfire opened her eyes, approached his side, and gently nuzzled his cheek. "It's okay, Soarin." You're not the only one who's nervous.

He blushed while nuzzling her back. "S-So, shall we?"

She flashed him a grin. "Well, what are we seeing, Soarin?"

"Oh... That's a surprise."

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME, SOARIN?"

The two friends stood in line behind several other customers who were eager to see the brand new movie called Orion - The Last Stand. Spitfire was eager to see the conclusion to the series of this action thriller, but her team had been having so many drills. And it was all thanks to her. She frowned at the thought of torturing her teammates with drills, but it was what she had to do. Even if that meant killing her time to see the Orion series. I'm so glad Soarin took me out tonight...

Spitfire looked at Soarin, who was shaking slightly. She sighed and nuzzled him. His anxiety must really be going through the roof. "Are you all right, Soarin?"

Soarin slowly shook his head. "Flashing lights always scared me as a colt."

Spitfire wrapped her wing around him. "You got me, then." She looked on at the blue interior of the place. "I haven't been to the movies in a long time."

He flashed her a smile as he spoke, "They changed the interior to this place. It was once pure gold, remember?"

She nodded. "Yeah, except it looked like puke because of the paint's discoloring right?"

He chuckled and nuzzled her back. "Yep! Vomit and all."

She giggled and took another step forward. "Think we're going to ever get in?"

"I hope so, otherwise we'll have to go back to my place to watch a different movie."

That does sound nice. Being snuggled up next to him while we—

Her eyes widened.

Calm yourself, Spitfire! Look, all you need to do is keep yourself calm. You have two and a half hours with this...

She looked at him. His smile, his eyes, his wings... She'd better stop looking at him like this if she wanted her heart to stop beating so fast.

I'm going to have a heart attack at this rate.

She looked at the ticket master. Her heart began to slow. The pony was short, stocky, and looked like he needed a doctor. Scars covered his face, some more large than others. With a somewhat tired smile, he said, "Movie?"

The two ponies in front of Spitfire and Soarin smiled at the ticket master. "Two for Orion, please," the tall stallion said.

The ticket master sighed. "Sorry, looks like we're sold out."

The brown-maned mare growled. "But we've been waiting here for an hour!"

"I'm sorry, sir, but the second theater is also full. We don't have any extra spots open at the moment."

"Okay, fine," he grumbled, putting his white wing around his mare. "Come on, Stella, let's go home."

Soarin looked at Spitfire. "Guess we're going to have to head out too," he said. "Unless you want to see a different movie?"

Spitfire frowned. "I don't know what else is playing."

He smiled. "We can always go back home an—"

"Next!"

"Soarin, let's go," she whispered. The two exited the line and together, they walked away from the theater with heavy hearts and expectations crushed.

Soarin sighed. "Guess we'll head to my place..." He turned to Spitfire. "Unless you have any other ideas?"

For once, Spitfire shook her head. She was always the one to figure out the next move, the next turn, the next awesome stunt, but tonight, Soarin was her Captain.

And she didn't mind it one bit.

"Then let's go!"

Together, the two flyers flew home.

Nestled on the couch were two best friends. They were both in love with each other, but the team that they both fell for restricted their relationship to "friends". They would've tagged the "with benefits" on there, but neither of them didn't want to soil what they already had.

In front of them the screen was playing the Orion series. It was a very popular movie series about two stallions who adventured across Equestria in search of the Orion, a specific gem that had the power to turn Equestria into a giant crater. They didn't want the world to end due to a gem, so their job was to find it before the snake called Dystal had a chance to snatch it.

The finale was the fourth in the series. Right now, Spitfire and Soarin were watching the third one.

"Watch out for the boulders, Blade!"

A boulder collided with the ground behind Blade. "Thanks for the obvious warning, Storm!"

The pegasus snickered at his dear friend's quip. "When we're out of here, you and I are going for a drink—"

"Shut up and keep runnin'!" Blade shouted. He carefully charged a spell from his horn. "I'm going to zap a few of them to make sure we don't get crushed!"

"Can't you use your magic to teleport us out?" Storm asked as he dodged another boulder.

"Do I look like a master of magic to you?" Blade replied as his magic shattered a boulder that was whirling towards them.

The avalanche of boulders behind them was happening due to them stealing from the Crypt of Mysis. She was a god of another generation, one that the two stallions had uncovered in the second movie.

As the two heroes drew to the end of the cave they were in, a loud knocking noise omitted from the front door of Soarin's place.

Soarin looked at Spitfire and said, "I'll get it."

Spitfire nodded and scooted over to allow her friend to exit the couch. He slowly slid out from underneath her and walked over to the door. Carefully, he opened up the door and gasped at the mare in front of him.

"Fleetfoot, what are you doing here?" He looked up and down her form. "And why the hell do you look like you went to the Fight Club?"

Fleetfoot growled at him. "No one talks about Fight Club, dumbass! And it's because I had to fly all the way from Boozetown to tell you what was going on."

"What is all the ruckus, Soari—" Spitfire asked as she rubbed her eyes. But once she stopped rubbing them, she gasped at the sight of Fleetfoot. "Fleetfoot?!"

"Great, two birds with one stone," Fleetfoot replied, before saying, "Soarin', Spitfire, I got you some news from the Academy."

"Is it bad?" Soarin asked, eyebrow raised. "Knowing you, it probably was bad."

Fleetfoot shot Soarin a nasty glare. "What is that supposed—no, I don't even want to know. Look, there's something at the Academy and—"

"Define the something, Fleetfoot," Spitfire demanded.

"That's the thing, Captain. They don't know what they are," Fleetfoot said with agitation. "The Academy has been put on lockdown, and HQ has told everyone to report back and stay in their dorms until further notice."

"They?" Soarin asked.

Fleetfoot turned her head to Soarin. "According to the report, there was two of these tall bi-pedal things."

"What report?" Spitfire asked.

Fleetfoot smirked. "I was waiting for you to ask that." Fleetfoot gave Spitfire the report. "Take it, I don't need it anymore."

The paper, though folded in fours and somewhat stained from forsaken drink, was easy to snap open with her hoof. She swiftly swiped the four squared report, opened it, and with speed, she read the blasted text. Why are the words so small!? Groaning at the sight of the word "alien", she turned to Fleetfoot and said, "Leave it to Soarin and I."

"Is it that serious?" Soarin asked.

Spitfire nonchalantly waved her fore hoof. "Ha, it's probably just a few cadets seeing things. You know how the stress gets to them after a few days." She turned to Fleetfoot. "Thanks for the report, Fleet. Return to HQ," she added.

With a nod, Fleetfoot spread her wings wide and took off.

"Never seen a mare like her take off that quick," Soarin said mindlessly.

"When she needs to go, she goes," Spitfire said, giggling. "Look, let's get going ourselves, we have to calm these cadets down before they start reporting it to the news."

Soarin smiled. "Right behind you."

Spitfire returned the gesture. "You would like to be behind me."

Soarin grinned. "Best view in all of Equestria," he said before galloping after Spitfire.