Author's Note
Rated Teen for Spitfire and Soarin's dialogue, plus other things. 
Not for Amateurs
A gold hoof slapped repeatedly at the alarm shrilling in her ears, and Spitfire snorted in angry dismal as the clock clattered to the floor. The ringing stopped somewhat suspiciously, and she pressed a hoof to her forehead as she realized she'd probably broken it. Again. And while she seriously contemplated lying in bed the whole day with the warmth of the sun tickling her coat; it would be a waste of time. Something she hated, hated doing - there was so much that could be done on a day like today. What a day it was, too. Even better, it was her day off.
Kicking uselessly at the tangled sheets with her back hooves, she winced as a feather poked her between her shoulder blades. She really was going to have to remind her flatmate to keep to his own room - damn Soarin always pushed the boundaries when they were off-duty. Which included her personal boundaries ... her eyes narrowed in anger and embarrassment as she recalled what he'd done last night. And that was only last night, not the previous other one million cases of her second-in-command being an awful flirt when he didn't have his gob in a pie.
Sure enough, the annoying feather was a very pale blue, and her orange eyes threatened to burn holes in it as she successfully freed herself from her bed. Stepping carefully around the remains of her dead alarm clock, she staggered into the bathroom, hoofsteps echoing dully on the smooth cloudstone floor. Dunking her head into the soft fluffiness that was their rain cloud shower, Spitfire muffled a sigh as she tapped it to start the flow of water. And immediately wished she could strangle that stallion with her bare hooves. He'd used up all the hot water.
It's going to be one of those days off, isn't it? she reflected bitterly. Celestia's sake! Can I never catch a break?
After cooling off - quite literally - she followed her nose downstairs. She found Soarin standing in their galley kitchen; and he must have heard her because his ears swiveled in her direction. Her feathers ruffled as he pivoted towards her and she fought the urge to kick him in the teeth. Instead, she just let her tail flick from side to side in an aggravated manner and settled for eyeballing holes in his head.
"Morning, Sparky. You rested?" Some greeting she got.
"Jump off a cliff, Clipper. I don't have the energy to deal with your sauce."
"...Must've used it up last night, huh? What were you trying to do - set me ablaze?"
Spitfire snorted angrily, ears flattening slightly. "Get me drunk again, and I swear, Soarin, you're on probation for six months."
A whistle of surprise. "Geez, Cap, chill out. It was just a little bit of fun."
"A little bit of - Soarin! If anypony ever found out, it'd all go up in smoke!" she exclaimed in exasperation.
"And?" he queried. "It's our business, not theirs."
She would have snapped something furious at him, but he was looking at her sideways, which never boded well. Watching him a little nervously as he trotted closer, she scuffed a hoof on the floor, ears flicking back and forth uncertainly. Damn him - he was doing it again. She could have ... should have blasted him for this, but he was too good and he knew it. He had too much information he could use.
"Soarin -"
A hoof pressed to her lips gently, cutting her off. "Ssh... Just let it happen."
He removed it, but his eyes never left her as he circled her, assessing and teasing. She shied away, skittish, as he draped his tail over her back, trailing the tip down her flank. Oh, not again. Suppressing a shiver, she bit her lip as he nimbly ran a hooftip between her shoulderblades and shook her head despairingly. Thank goodness he never let on about this to the other members of the team. She'd never live it down - her, the Captain, in such a state over something Soarin just happened to discover; and use with great skill. Embarrassing.
His muzzle swept in an arc down the side of her neck, teeth grazing the skin as he got lower. Her eyelids drooped beneath his ministrations, soaking up the affection like it was water to a raincloud. Her entire body slumped, primary feathers brushing the floor; and she exhaled as he trotted around to face her, eyes warm pools of green. She knew what came next, but like always at this point, she didn't care. Might as well.
Despite herself, she melted into the kiss, wrapping a hoof around her flatmate's neck, before rearing up on her back hooves and pulling him closer. Backing up, she felt him grin as her back hit the wall, feathers quivering from emotion. Her free forehoof lingered on his chest as he broke the kiss, smile a mile wide. It was definitely a love-hate relationship, but they were working on it. Privately, of course. And slowly.
"I hate you," she breathed. "I hate you so much it hurts."
Soarin quirked a brow, laughing. "That's not what you said last night, Sparky. Quite the opposite, in fact."
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut up and just kiss me already."
A chuckle. "If you insist."
He kissed her again alright, trailing a smouldering line down her neck and chest, making her bite her tongue and squirm in place. Tipping her head back, she felt his hoof running through her mane, and sighed. Damn him. Damn him to Tartarus. But who said he got to have all the fun? Her eyes snapped open as he blinked hazily at her, and she allowed herself to fall forward. She wanted to drive him insane.
He caught her with a surprised grunt, gasping as her teeth nipped at his exposed throat. Watching him through half-lidded eyes, Spitfire ran teasing hooves along his sides, drawing it out as she explored the muscle beneath his coat. Lean, firm muscle that twitched under her dexterous touch, making her giggle. The poor stallion - he looked like he was torn between enjoying it and berating her for her actions.
Soarin seemed utterly startled when she pounced, pressing her lips to his with enthusiasm. So startled, in fact, that he couldn't stop his reaction. The sound of delight that erupted from his chest was music to her ears, and delicious payback. Especially since last night. Swishing her tail from side to side in amused satisfaction, she broke the contact, and winked at him as she stepped aside, leaving him lying there gasping for breath. Snickering, she blew a lock of messy hair out of her eyes, watching as he sat up and glared daggers at her head.
"Traitor," he growled, narrowing his eyes.
She waved a dismissive hoof and chuckled. "Oh, please. Don't give me that - you enjoyed it."
"That may be true, but that doesn't mean you can rub it in."
She merely laughed and trotted away; humming to herself. A little extra persuasion had him scrambling upright and galloping after her, but she just smirked as she grabbed her goggles, slinging them about her neck and flicking him across the muzzle with the tip of her tail. He lunged, but she'd already skipped out the door and slammed it behind her. As a result, he crashed head-first into the cloudstone rubble door, yelping in shock. Spitfire snickered, perhaps a little mean-spiritedly, and leapt into the air, pumping her wings. He'd catch up.
And as it turned out, her day off wasn't so bad after all. Snuggled into soft cloudstuff, she rested her head on his back; smiling.
It had been a good day. Everything she'd expected and more.
Author's Note
Sorry guys, looks like I didn't get updated when I said I would. I should get the third - and final - chapter done in a similar time frame to this one, though. So all's good. However ... read away~ 
Captain's Curse
It had been a long, long tour and Spitfire was glad to be back home in Cloudsdale. As were the rest of the 'Bolts. But none quite so much as Soarin, and Spitfire knew it showed. But not for the reasons the team probably thought. It wasn't pie related. Or even prank related. It was related to her, and she wanted, as per usual, to kick him in the teeth. Or kiss him and drive him half-mad. It was what she did best, after all.
And he was humming. Gritting her teeth, Spitfire flared her wings, jumping into the center of the room with ease, her tail mischievously flicking Soarin in the nose as she landed. Feeling his eyes on her, she gave it an extra shake as she straightened up, tapping a forehoof on cloudstone floor of the shower-room. It wasn't a loud noise, but it wasn't a quiet one, either; and it was enough to catch attention. Good.
"So, I'd like your opinion on something, team, because it affects all of us. Our image, that sort of thing. Y'see, 'Bolts, I have something to confess. I've known I wanted to change this up for a while, and after the results of our last tour, just recently finished, I was thinking I need a change." A dry chuckle. "They say change is as good as a holiday, right? Well, unlike the Princesses, I don't get those. Just rare days off."
A few scattered laughs, here and there. Behind her, Soarin was still to the point of rigid, wings half unfurled as he tried to hide his discomfort. Smirking, she glanced over at him, and winked. She looked delicate with mare-ish features that were often hidden beneath her flightsuit, but, as it happened, Soarin was very familiar with those features. She was a small mare, but she knew that Soarin liked his mares small and feisty.
A la la a, her. And she was milking this for all she was worth. "...So, anyway, I was thinking of getting a new manestyle. Something similar to Crash's, but shorter. Sorry, Ships, but there's already enough Fleetfoot fanponies. You don't want me to steal your thunder, do you?"
Fleetfoot chuckled. "Nah, Chief. S'all good, if you ask me. Though it seems like Clipper likes the idea - poor stallion. Look at him."
The room burst into a cacophony of whistles and hoots, from mare and stallion alike as they heckled their teammate about his current state. Spitfire cast a coy glance over her shoulder, tail flicking from side to side in delight - she had him now, and she was about to make it even worse for poor Soarin. Not that he was going to mind. His powder blue coat was flushed scarlet, eyes squeezed shut, head between his forelegs as he fought to breathe. Looks like she'd have to bring out all her effort for this - he was shutting down, and that was a private state.
Looks like it's down to the traditional method for this one. The other ... is behind closed doors only.
"Leave him to me," she growled. "Give us some room - I'm going to have to snap him out of it the old-fashioned way."
Silence fell thick and fast at the mention of those last words, and all around the room, ears pricked. Oh, they knew what it meant alright. Ancient pegasus courtship rituals, mostly consisting of pony against pony competitions, worked as mare and stallion alike sought to find their perfect mate. And pegasi were entrenched in tradition as much as their unicorn and earth pony cousins; perhaps more so. It was a request, an honour, to be challenged to one such competition in these modern times. So her teammates knew exactly what she was saying by uttering those words in their presence. But first ... she'd have to snap him out of his current state. This would be fun, alright.
Snorting, she spun on her hooves, ears flickering uncertainly as she approached her second in command. No words were exchanged as she lowered herself into a crouch, muzzle brushing the floor; and pressed her forehead against his. Green eyes opened, and he nickered softly, relaxing as their eyes met. He knew where they were, body tensing slightly, but slumped again as she nibbled first one ear, then the other.
"Sparky ... what are you doing?" he whispered, lifting his head. "The team..."
"Are fine, sun kite. But I would like to propose a challenge, in accordance with our old laws ... a Warrior's Request. Do you accept?"
His eyes widened. "Do I...?" A swallow. "Spitfire, it would be my greatest honour to accept your challenge. The point of submission?"
She winked. "Whomever can hold the other down long enough to kiss them, I would think. Ready, stud?"
He shivered in answered, wings flexing, and she giggled as she backed away from him. The crowd of eager, yet respectful, pegasi hovered at the fringes of the room, some of them working to move the cloud benches higher so they could sit and watch the proceedings comfortably. It might be a personal commitment, a private competition between mare and stallion, but tradition was tradition, and it was a warm, fuzzy, thought that the rest of the team would be witnesses to the open declaration of their relationship. In fact, she was delighted by it.
And speaking of tradition...
Smile fond, and her eyes soft, she reared up to nuzzle him, forehooves planted on his shoulders. Their lips met, and she smirked internally as he growled into the kiss, their tongues darting in and out as the moment deepened. Dragging a wing down the side of his neck, she jumped back, hooves clattering to the ground and winked playfully, before dropping in a crouch, one wing half hiding her face behind ruffled feathers. He paused, head cocked to one side, wings tented at his sides, a foreleg pawing at the air, and snorted, the sound low and deep.
Her whinny rang into the silent air, nothing but a cool breeze stirring her mane and tail as it passed through the room. The crowd was silent, no sound from them except rustling feathers and occasional swish of a tail. It was the perfect setting for something such as this, and everything was going as it once been thousands of years ago, as it had been with traditional pegasi courtships. So far, so good.
They moved slowly, steps echoing against the cloudstone floor, circling, nuzzling; teasing. A nip here, a nibble there - a swish of the tail or toss of the head, it didn't matter. They were still equines, and while not normal by modern standards, tradition held root in typical equine behaviour. Truth be told, she'd dreamed of being courted this way ever since she was a filly, and ever since she'd first heard of these ancient pegasine traditions. But to do this with Soarin ... it just made even more special, even more surreal. Not that she'd ever tell him that.
She hopped over him, wings flaring for extra lift, and when she landed, spun around to face him. His eyes glittered like emeralds in the light, and the expression on his face ... heat rippled through her, ears turning suddenly in his direction as he whinnied, soft and alluring. Her eyes widened, muscles freezing into place, as he approached her, the answering call, instinctive, trapped in her throat. Did he just ...? No way...
"S-Soarin?" she stammered, breaking the silence. "A-Are you sure?"
He dipped his head, teeth grazing her neck. "Never surer, Sparky. If you'll have me."
The room broke into whispers, and she sat down with a thump, legs unable to support her. Shaking, she leaned into him, listening to his soft whispers, feeling his gentle caresses as he groomed her, nipping and nibbling affectionately from time to time. She could hardly feel it. Well, she could, but it didn't register. She was too shocked to feel much more than his coat against hers, and the smooth floor beneath her.
Foals ... Sweet Celestia, the prospect was - terrifying. But even more so than that ...
She'd been fine with them just saying that they were a couple. That was all she'd wanted. But now - now she didn't know how to feel. He'd just proposed. Proposed. To her. Asked for her hoof in marriage. In front of the entire team. And she ... she didn't know what to think. Had he gone and asked for her parents' permission behind her back? Sneaky, sneaky Soarin. But the funny thing was that she didn't mind. She wanted to accept. She didn't think she could live without him, despite the ... unusual circumstances surrounding their relationship. So...
A shuddering sigh. "...Y-yes... I accept."
Sweet Celestia - he'd proposed. And she - she'd just accepted. She didn't care that he didn't have a ring; it wasn't his style anyway. But wow.
This was not how she expected her day to turn out. At all.
...And top it all off, she now had a wedding to start planning.
