"Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!"
The ponies in blue chanted loudly, surrounding the single pegasus who had his lips wrapped around the neck of a large bottle of eggnog. Fire Streak guzzled the drink down, the creamy liquid that he failed to swallow drizzling down his chin and onto the floor. Finally, he finished off the drink. Grinning, he stood up straight, spreading his arms wide. He opened his mouth, but instead of letting out the victorious taunt that he'd been planning to make, he belched loudly. The other Wonderbolts laughed and cheered.
Sitting at the other end of the room, Spitfire snorted to herself, shaking her head. "Dude, that's your twelfth bottle," she called. "You sure you don't want to call it quits? You know what that stuff does to you."
"No way, boss!" Fire Streak retorted, swaying slightly as he tossed the bottle aside. "I feel fiddle as a fine...I mean...no worries, I can last as long as I need to..." Fire Streak's retort was interrupted when he belched again, lurching forward a little. Knowing what was going to happen, the other Wonderbolts cleared a pathway, allowing the pegasus a direct pathway to the bathroom, which he flew into at top speed, slamming the door shut behind him. A moment later, the sound of retching could be heard from the other side of the door.
Standing next to Spitfire, Fleetfoot clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "Not even close to his record from last year."
"Bet those gingerbread cookies threw him off," Spitfire commented, sipping at her mulled cider. Hearth's Warming music played from the speakers, which sat in the corner underneath a set of wreaths with blinking lights. The decorations were relatively sparse, but Spitfire had always believed that it wasn't the decorations that made the party. It was the ponies, no matter how ridiculous they were.
"You got any plans for tomorrow morning?" Spitfire asked Fleetfoot.
"Yeah," Fleetfoot said. "Spend some time with the family." She nodded to the other Wonderbolts, most of whom had paired up with their flight partners and were sky dancing to the music.
Spitfire grinned. "Thanks, Fleet."
"For what?" Fleetfoot asked.
"Y'know, for...everything."
Fleetfoot smiled at her captain. "Eh, Spits, you know—"
"Hey, Spitfire!"
Spitfire turned at the voice. Soarin was standing at the door of the room, his hood and goggles removed and a scarf around his neck. He smiled at her and jerked his head backwards, indicating for her to join him outside.
"I'll be right back," Spitfire said, putting her drink down on the table and exiting, following her lieutenant out of the building. Fleetfoot watched Spitfire exit, her mouth slowly drawing itself into a thin line. So, the moment had come, as she had known it would. It was time to put her plan in action.
Spitfire exited the Wonderbolts barracks and trotted out into the snow-laden grounds, tightening a scarf around her own neck. Soarin was waiting for her some distance from the barracks, a small smile splashed across his features. Spitfire's eyes zeroed in on the distinctive purple stains and crumbs on his lips.
"You know, the whole point of you bringing that pie was for you to share it with the rest of us, Soarin."
"I can't help it if I'm faster than all of you," Soarin smirked in reply.
"You're only faster than us when there's food involved," Spitfire snarked, drawing closer to Soarin. The heat from his body dispelled some of the chill of winter.
Soarin rubbed the back of his mane with a hoof, chuckling softly. "Well, it was my mom's old recipe. You know I could never resist it. You remember when we were kids, we'd always stand outside and watch through the window while she made it?"
Spitfire smiled. She did remember: the memory was as clear as if it was only yesterday the two of them had been foal and filly, hypnotically called from flight practice in the backyard by the enticing scent of fresh blueberry pie cutting through the fall air.
"I do. I also remember you always trying to steal my slice when my back was turned," she added.
"Hey, I always worked hard! I deserved that extra slice!" Soarin protested.
Spitfire laughed. "Says the pony who always tried to skip leg day!"
Soarin laughed as well, a bit more nervously. After a moment, he admitted, "You know, if you hadn't pushed me so hard, I might not be here."
Spitfire's smile faded a little. "You were the one who made sure I never gave up," she said. "You were always the one with the dreams and ambitions."
Soarin let out a single chuckle. "Heh, yup. Silly old Soarin, always with his head in the clouds, dreaming of bigger things."
The conversation faded into silence. The two top Wonderbolts avoided each other's gaze, insteading choosing to stare at the snowy fields and the twinkling stars above them.
"You know, I, um..." Soarin finally said. "I know we haven't been spending a lot of time together recently, because of our jobs...and so, you know, I thought that maybe I could give you a gift for Hearth's Warming. Like when we were kids...? So..." He slowly reached into his scarf and pulled out a small gift, neatly wrapped in sky blue paper. He handed it to Spitfire with a small smile. "I thought of you as soon as I saw it."
With some hesitation, Spitfire took the gift. It had been a long time since she'd received a present from her best friend. He had always chosen small, personal gifts; he knew that she hated extravagance. She kept every single one, even as they collected dust on her shelves. She turned the gift over in her hooves, choosing not to unwrap it yet.
"Thanks, Soarin," she said softly, smiling. "I, uh...I didn't..."
She had been about to admit that she had completely forgotten to find something for him, and beg for his forgiveness, but when she looked up, the thought was driven from her head. Soarin wasn't looking at her: he was looking at something above them with a wide-eyed, slack-jawed expression, and blushing furiously. Spitfire looked up as well.
Fleetfoot was hovering above them, wearing a mischievous grin that would make Discord jealous. And she was dangling a mistletoe over their heads.
"Fleetfoot!" Spitfire sputtered in shock, her yellow cheeks turning scarlet.
Fleetfoot laughed in reply. "C'mon, you know the rules! You gotta kiss now!"
Spitfire and Soarin looked at their friend, then at each other, their faces red. "If we don't, you're gonna go back in and tell everypony, aren't you?" Spitfire asked Fleetfoot dryly. Fleetfoot's smile grew larger and she nodded.
Soarin looked at Spitfire and shrugged, grinning. "I guess we don't have a choice then."
Spitfire looked up at Fleetfoot, then at Soarin. His trademark goofy grin was splashed across his face, the smiled that he reserved just for her in her moments of doubt. He'd been her best friend since foalhood, the one who had always stood beside her no matter what. They'd done everything together, been through everything together, both the good and the bad.
Now that she thought about it, kissing him honestly wouldn't be that bad. In any case, it'd definitely be better than the endless teasing that her team would put her through if she didn't.
She took in a deep breath of the frosty air and leaned forward, closing her eyes. She felt his lips on hers, tasted the leftover crumbs and cream. She felt like she was in the midst of a dive towards the ground: her heart thudded in her chest, but she was calm and still, focused entirely on this moment, on the smell of her best friend, on the taste, on the warmth of his body and his breath, and on just how good it felt to kiss him...
"Okay, that's enough, you two!" Fleetfoot interrupted.
Coming back to her senses, Spitfire pulled away from the kiss, being careful not to make the movement too sudden. The taste of Soarin's lips lingered on her tongue.
"Sheesh, any longer and we'd have to get you two a room," Fleetfoot sniggered, dropping the mistletoe onto the snow. "C'mon, let's get back inside before we freeze our feathers off." She turned and began to fly back towards the barracks.
Spitfire remained where she was, her eyes on Soarin. His smile had grown wider and his blush had deepened, and he was slowly shifting his weight from hoof to hoof.
"Do you think we should tell them that we've been going out for a month now?"
"This was her way of telling us that she does," Spitfire answered. She pressed up against Soarin's chest and nuzzled him contentedly. He wrapped a wing around her and kissed the top of her forehead.
"We should get back in and rejoin the others," Spitfire said, hesitantly pulling away. Soarin made a quiet noise of assent, and they began to walk back to the barracks.
"Do you think we should tell them?" Soarin asked.
Spitfire snorted with laughter. "Do you know what they would do to us if we told?"
"They're gonna find out sooner or later," Soarin pointed out, pausing briefly.
Spitfire frowned in thought. "You're right," she admitted. "We'll tell them at some point. But not today, all right?"
"Okay," Soarin agreed, nuzzling her. "I love you, Spitty."
"Love you too, you big dork," Spitfire replied.
As they turned to return to the barracks, Spitfire spotted the mistletoe plant on the ground. She picked it up and looked at Soarin, a grin spreading across her face.
He winked in reply, knowing what she was thinking of. "I'll try to get Fleetfoot over to Fire Streak."
Laughing, the two Wonderbolts bounded back into the barracks to spend the rest of Hearth's Warming with the weird, dysfunctional, perfect little family that loved them.
Author's Note
As part of my special story giveaway, lambda requested a Hearth's Warming story featuring some Soarinfire shipping. I was more than happy to oblige, as Soarinfire happens to be one of my favorite shippings, and a bit of practice with romance is something that I always appreciate.
I hope you enjoyed, lambda!
