Spitfire's Worst Nightmare
Soarin looked out of his condo’s window, taking a nice big sip of coffee out of his Wonderbolt’s mug. It was a generous donation from the team’s staff room that they had no idea they’d made.
Outside a heavy layer of fog covered the city of Cloudsdale, blanketing it in a shroud of grey so dense that Soarin couldn’t even see across the street. The city usually got like this in the fall, though it had been years since he had last seen it this bad.
“Son of a bitch!” a voice boomed from a neighbouring room. It was the voice of a she-devil that he loved like no other.
He merely took another sip of coffee as she stomped into the room.
“Do you see what it’s like out there?” Spitfire shouted, growling as she came up alongside him.
Soarin snorted. “Looks kind of foggy.”
“Kinda!” Spitfire exclaimed, thrusting a hoof towards the window. “Kinda, we can work with. This is a hell of a lot of fog, Soarin. We’re going to have to cancel today’s practice!”
Soarin smirked and took a noisy sip of coffee. “Crying shame.”
“We never cancel practice,” Spitfire explained, as if he didn’t already know that. Co-captain, yet he was apparently still her subordinate.
She grumbled a few more impolite phrases under her breath before glancing at him and his cup of coffee. “Is there…”
“Full pot in the kitchen,” he finished.
Spitfire nodded and stormed out of the room with Soarin lazily following behind.
“Maybe we can do some indoor lectures?” Spitfire suggested, flicking her hoof towards no one in particular as she filled up a Wonderbolts’ mug with coffee – another gift unknowingly donated. “Go over flight routines and…”
“Or we can just give everypony the day off,” Soarin said.
Spitfire’s eyes widened as if he had just slapped her.
“We can’t just give everypony the day off,” she growled. “Think about what that’d do to discipline.”
He shrugged. “Think about what an extra day off would do to morale.”
“Why are you always so lax?” Spitfire asked, taking a sip of her coffee. She took it black because of course she did.
Soarin smirked. “Because I’m a sociable kind of pony, Spitfire. You grill them over the flames, then I spend the next week trying to rebuild their self-esteem so we actually have something functional to work with for our next show.”
“So, you think we should give them a free day off?” Spitfire asked, scowling. “Is that your official stance on this issue? Just give vacation time willy-nilly?”
He nodded. “Put it down in the books if you have to. Our team has been doing great recently and an extra day to fuck around at home will do them wonders.”
Spitfire was silent for a moment, steeling her jaw and lamenting this. To her this must’ve seemed like the worst possible outcome. A whole day where she couldn’t berate those under her; truly a fate worse than death.
She was about to speak when another pony lumbered into the room.
“Soarin, Spitfire,” Fleetfoot muttered, letting out a loud yawn. “You two sleep good?”
“Like an angel, babe,” Soarin said, saluting with his mug.
Spitfire blew a puff of air into her cheek and glared at him. “You stole the sheets last night.”
“Oh, please, who needs sheets? He’s like a furnace,” Fleetfoot teased. She drew in a breath through her nose and sighed. “Oh, thank fuck, Soarin made the coffee this morning.”
Soarin honestly couldn’t tell a difference between his and Spitfire’s coffee preparation, but somehow Fleetfoot always seemed to know which of them put the pot on in the morning. A weird quirk that he didn’t question since it always seemed to work out in his favour.
Their girlfriend lumbered over to the cupboard and pulled out another Wonderbolt’s mug – the first one he’d extracted as tribute from their workplace if the chipped handle and faded logo were any indication. She filled it with coffee and added a single spoonful of sugar before taking a generous sip.
“Looks pretty foggy outside,” Fleetfoot said, blinking away some of the sleep in her eyes.
“We noticed,” Soarin and Spitfire murmured in unison.
Spitfire shook her head. “Soarin here thinks we should call off practice.”
“Hell yeah,” Fleetfoot whispered, nodding towards him and batting her eyelashes. “Did I ever tell you that you were my favourite?”
“Hardy har har,” Spitfire muttered, lifting a wing at Fleetfoot and extending her middle most primary feather.
Fleetfoot stuck out her tongue. “I mean let’s be honest, babe. Earth ponies get to take snow days, unicorns get well… a lot of days off, and us pegasus kind of get shafted. Why not take a blessing when it’s presented to us, right?”
Spitfire scoffed and shook her head. “You don’t become Captain by slacking off.”
Fleetfoot cocked a brow and tilted her chin towards Soarin, who whistled softly and tried his best to avoid his co-captain’s cold gaze.
“Soarin is… good with ponies,” Spitfire explained. “And he’s an adequate flier.”
“That’s high praise,” Soarin teased. “Are you being nice to me because I got you off last…”
Spitfire loudly cleared her throat before he could finish.
Her face burned a few shades of red darker, earning her a pair of snickers from both of her partners.
“I can provide compliments on occasion,” she grumbled.
Soarin nodded. “But for real, let’s just take the blessings when we can get them, right? Just think about it; you, me, and Fleet, just spending a whole day indoors together. We can try that whole marital bliss thing that the civilians talk about.”
“I can cook pancakes,” Fleetfoot sung, fluttering her lashes at Spitfire. “With bananas and chocolate chips, just the way you like them.”
Spitfire allowed herself a small smile. “That… does sound nice.”
“Maybe even cuddle for a little while,” Soarin said. “Or go for a walk through the park if the weather improves.”
Fleetfoot snickered. “The fog would provide some nice cover for a little outdoor exhibitionism.”
Both Soarin and Spitfire froze, looking at her. Fleetfoot maintained her devilish little smile, hiding it behind another sip of coffee.
Once finished, she sighed contently. “I mean, you both knew I was a freak getting into this relationship. I haven’t heard any complaints before.”
“I’d prefer to avoid jail time,” Spitfire said, her edge finally waning.
Fleetfoot rolled her eyes. “Babe, we’re the Wonderbolts. We can get away with a whole lot of shit that would get the mere mortals in trouble. I doubt they’d lock us up if we were caught bonking in the sculpture garden or whatever.”
Soarin sighed and came up alongside Spitfire, draping a wing across her back. “Come on, hun, just succumb to the temptation of a day off. Don’t you think we’ve earned a nice long weekend for once?”
“Yeah,” Fleetfoot agreed, coming up on Spitfire’s other side and nuzzling into her neck. “Be a lazy piece of shit for once in your life, like the rest of us.”
“You two are terrible influences,” Spitfire grumbled. She then sighed and looked at the two of them, likely seeing their hopeful little expressions. Finally, she growled and threw up a hoof. “Fine! Fine, we can have a day off. Though, I hope you know that I’m working you twice as hard on Monday!”
Fleetfoot batted her eyelashes and leered at her. “You can work us twice as hard today if you’d like.”
“You’re insatiable, Fleetfoot,” Soarin teased.
Fleetfoot stuck out her tongue. “One of us needs to have a functional sex drive, Captain.”
Spitfire shook her head and drew away from them, heading towards Soarin’s office.
“You two win,” she said. “I’m going to go draft an official communication form and send it out to the team.”
“I’m going to start on those pancakes,” Fleetfoot chirped, rushing towards the pantry.
Soarin shrugged. “I’ll uh… continue to look handsome?”
“You’re doing the job well,” Spitfire said, winking at him and slamming the office door shut behind herself.
Author's Note
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