Author's Note
Just to avoid confusion, the characters sometimes refer to each other by their nicknames mentioned in the episode 'Newbie Dash'—e.g., Rainbow Dash, Soarin, and Surprise's nicknames are Crash, Clipper, and Slowpoke respectively. Look it up.
Proposal's a B!#&h
As the cadets flew out every window of the chow hall, fleeing from the thunderous cry of one Captain Spitfire, a small group of less intimidated mares converged. Consoling words and soothing phrases fell from their lips as they rushed to the hot-headed mare, sitting her down at a table.
"What's he done this time?" Fleetfoot asked, patting her friend on the shoulder.
"It's not what he's done, it's what he hasn't done." Spitfire said, grinding the words out like grist in a mill.
"What are you–? Oh," High Winds said, understanding at last. "You've heard about Surprise then."
"Yes." Spitfire hissed.
"What about her?" Misty Fly asked, fidgeting with her flight suit. "Last I heard, she was dating that party pegasus we met at that club in Cloudsdale."
"Apparently," High Winds supplied, her voice soft, "he's asked 'Prize to marry him. I heard their ceremony is supposed to be sometime next Spring."
"Wait," Fleetfoot interrupted, "You mean Slowpoke already has a ring and a date when–"
"When Soarin hasn't even asked!" Spitfire grumbled, her eyes narrowed as her hooves bunched up the fabric of her suit. Her furious revelation elicited gasps from her fellow Bolts.
Spitfire had been happy when High Winds married Silver Zoom, elated for her usually reserved teammate, in fact. She had been fine at Misty Fly's unusual wedding where she married both Fire Streak and Lightning Streak, relieved and weirded out that the Streak Twins are willing to share a wife. Heck, Spitfire had even convincingly faked being happy for Fleetfoot when her best friend finally landed a stallion for herself, albeit he's pretty bland. Okay, maybe not convincing enough, she did give Fleetfoot a black eye for getting married before her, but she also called up the Mage Meadowbrook to get her healed before the ceremony like every respectable shit-faced maid of honour.
Spitfire would wish Surprise well, but being a bridesmaid while never even being asked to be a bride was galling beyond belief. Frustrated, she added, "We've been living together for almost ten damned years, you'd think it would cross his pie-addled brain at least once!"
"Well," High Winds said, ignoring the quirking eyebrows and scowls from her friends. "Maybe he just doesn't understand?"
"What?"
"I–I mean," High Winds stammered, flustered at the combined scrutiny of her peers. "He grew up alone right? Does he even know what marriage means? To him, it could just be a fancy way of making a promise he's already made to you. Um, maybe?"
Shoulders sagging, Spitfire felt guilty for not considering the likely source of Soarin's lack of social cues. Sure, she expected a proposal and a wedding and maybe even a ring that could put Fleetfoot's gaudy little rock to shame—like it or not, Wonderbolts are and always will be competitive—but she'd also had a normal foalhood.
Scratch that, she'd had as normal a foalhood as it was possible to have.
Fleetfoot cleared her throat, having re-established her ability to talk, albeit hoarsely. "I heard Lightning Dust is getting married." She croaked with a smirk.
"I'M GOING TO KILL HIM!" Spitfire bellowed.
"I'm tellin' ya, Bloss," Soarin said between mouthfuls of apple pie. "I've nearly been killed by a full grown dragon, a power hungry centaur, and many other creatures, and I never thought that a pissed off Princess Cadance would be the scariest!"
A round of muffled chuckles sounded from around the large table in the centre of the cafe. Most seemed amused at the Wonderbolt second-in-command's anecdote, though one stallion chose to go against the flow.
"Tch." Thunderlane sounded. After partaking in his own slice of apple pie, he continued. "You're exaggerating. Again."
"Yeah, I can see why you would say that." Soarin conceded, shooting the mohawk-maned pegasus a look that proclaimed otherwise. "Then again, I was the only one holding her back after you made that crack about her husband. Everypony else thought you deserved more than your marriage cursed."
"Pffft." Was Thunderlane's only response. Fire Streak and Lightning Streak exchanged wry grins while Silver Zoom shook his head disapprovingly. A few Wonderbolt cadets glanced nervously between their present superior officers, praying that the Princess of Love, who has a reputation of being the kindest Princess many thought incapable of getting angry, wouldn't burst into the defenceless shop and murder them all for Thunderlane's careless remark.
Blossomforth just smiled and began putting away the empty plates.
When Thunderlane married Blossomforth, her flower shop underwent a renovation. She expanded her shop to add a little cafe section. Nothing too fancy, but some space where several ponies could eat and gather.
However, by ponies, Blossomforth meant her husband and his Wonderbolt friends. In a way, she thought of it as a hermit crab trading in a smaller home for one that fit; a few chairs around a small table had easily held Thunderlane and a couple of his friends in the past, but now other Bolts tend to come over to relax in a room filled with the calming fragrance of flowers.
Blossomforth had always left the entrance of her shop open. Some speculated that it had to do with maintaining a welcoming, open environment.
But she knew better.
"SOARIIIIIIIN!"
Silence not unlike a tomb washed over the cafe patrons as all eyes turned towards the named stallion. Soarin briefly choked on a mouthful of apple pie, startled by the ferocious scream from the love of his life. Not wanting his meal to go to waste, he swallowed everything in one gulp, plate included.
"That was seven I's." He said, subdued. This new information caused all of his stalwart companions, loyal teammates and good friends to scoot away from him. Seven I's meant Spitfire was serious, and that meant trouble.
"Wow," Thunderlane said, awe slipping into his voice. "It's been a while since you got up to seven."
"Yeah," Soarin agreed. "That time with–"
"Her mother." Silver Zoom interrupted. The silver-maned pegasus shuddered at the memory of violence the likes of famous changeling author Bugs R. R. Buzzin's Game of Drones consisted. "Not to be impertinent," he ventured, "but have you selected candidates for your replacement?"
"Wow, you had to ask?" Lightning Streak scoffed. His surprising nonchalance bolstered those seated. "If she kills him, we all know Flatfoot's taking his spot."
Everypony nodded in pragmatic agreement while Soarin withered and died a little inside. Before he could force some bravado to the fore, Spitfire stormed through the entrance and it was too late.
Tension clung to the air and smothered those bearing witness as Spitfire met her lover's eyes. A standoff between the two highest ranking Bolts, nopony breathed lest the tiniest tinder ignite the dramatic powder keg.
"Heya, Spits! Heard you comin'!" Soarin crowed, shortly preceding the sounds of several hooves slapping foreheads.
"Soarin," Spitfire started, not entirely unlike an executioner. His name sounded like a death sentence. "I want to discuss something with you."
"Sure!" Soarin replied, his grin increasingly strained. The stallion felt himself pressing harder against the back of his chair. "What'd ya wanna talk about?"
"It has come to my attention," the fiery mare said, "that Surprise is getting married. Surprise who is four years younger than I am and who has been with her significant other six years less than I've been with you, Soarin."
"Really?" Soarin asked, befuddled. "I guess we should congratulate her on–"
"But!" Spitfire interrupted, slamming her hooves on the table hard enough to make dents, earning herself an 'Oi' from Blossomforth. "I could have lived with that. Really. 'Prize is a sweet mare. But apparently even Lightning Dust has convinced somepony she's worth wedding. Lightning Dust, Soarin. Do you remember Lightning Dust?"
"...Who?"
"Think of Rainbow Dash, but a prick!"
The vehemence in Spitfire's tone had long since started to make Soarin perspire and her last exclamation caused him to visibly flinch. Desperately, he searched his memory for somepony named Lightning Dust that Spitfire would–
Oh dear.
"Wait? The Washout is getting married?" Soarin asked. His voice drowned in incredulity. He heard the muted gasps from the Streak Twins, but they failed to register as warnings.
"Yes," Spitfire said, her voice lethal. "The Washout is getting married next week. And yet in ten years, I don't seem to recall you ever bringing up the topic of marriage."
Spitfire had expected many reactions from her partner in life and love. The journey from the Wonderbolts Academy to Blossomforth's Florist Cafe had provided plenty of time for her to analyse and mull over the many possibilities such a public confrontation could entail.
She had prepared for guilt and sorrow, conceding that the flirting of countless fans that have constantly went over his head may have lent some merit to his social cluelessness. Spitfire had envisioned a sulky reluctance to broach the issue, his pride suffering in front of his friends. Indifference had crossed her mind, as Soarin's unconventional mindset may have dismissed matrimony as worthless. Spitfire had even envisioned callousness at the topic, indicating that Soarin truly didn't want to be considered "settled down."
Somehow, sheer wide-eyed paralysis had failed to enter her imagination. And Spitfire had a very good imagination. For a stallion whose personality was built around crazy fast-paced action, seeing Soarin silently stunned bothered Spitfire. He appeared neither upset or shocked at the notion of marriage, just stuck in disbelief.
The quiet, however, only made other sounds all too noticeable. Such as the gentle snickering from everypony else in the shop.
"And just what is so funny?" She asked, rounding on Wonderbolts she'd considered friends and comrades nearly all her life. If looks could maim, the Wonderbolts would have been short a few Sergeants and up a few dozen meat cubes on its way to the Dragon Lands.
"Nothing! Not a thing, Spits!" Soarin exclaimed, clamoring for her attention. Waving his hooves frantically, he let loose a nervous chuckle. "Blaze came around earlier with the newest volume of Game of Drones, and now all these guys could think about is incest porn! Perverted degenerates, I tell ya! The lot of 'em!"
Spitfire paused in her wrath to shoot her sweating coltfriend a confused look. Seizing the opportunity, Soarin continued unabated.
"I was incredibly thoughtless, Spitfire," Soarin said, jumping off his seat and bowing his head. "Please, forgive me. Of course I'll marry you! We can do it this evening! Heck, let's go ahead and get it done now! I can send these guys to get your mom and our friends! It's a bit short notice, but I think–"
"Soarin," Spitfire sighed, running a hoof through her mane. Amber eyes flicked over to the other Bolts barely containing their mirth. Letting her wings slump, she went on. "I know you're kinda dense sometimes, but this..."
"I–I–I'm a thoughtless pony raised by wolves!" Soarin begged, clasping his hooves together. "Promise of a hundred lifetimes, I'll make it up–!"
"Enough."
Stunned, the panicked Soarin and his emotional mate turned to see the red Streak brother weeping openly. Great streams of tears cascading down his cheeks, Fire Streak slammed a hoof on the table before standing on his chair, shocking the cadets into scurrying even further from the table, as well as earning himself an 'Oi' from Blossomforth.
"Oh, to see such splendorous passion and devotion!" Fire Streak cried. "I can't possibly just sit here and watch such deep affection butt-fucked by dreadful falsehood!"
"Yes, you can!" Soarin hissed, making the 'cut off' motion across his throat.
"Nah, dude!" He turned towards his captain. "My, oh, so esteemed, delicate Captain Spitfire! You have no idea how wrong you are about our driven and loyal Lieutenant!" Fire Streak whipped his hooves over his eyes, the very site of his two friends proving too much for him.
"Delicate? I'm not delicate. You take that back!" Spitfire cried.
"In trying to ease your sorrows, he's hiding how deep his passion is and the insane lengths he's gone for you!"
Further words Spitfire could not make out as great racking sobs overcame the dramatic Bolt. Soarin placed his hoof against his forehead and merely groaned. Clearing her throat, Spitfire asked, "What the heck was all that supposed to mean?"
Soarin groaned again.
"Hey, Clip," Lightning Streak said with a smirk. When Spitfire made to interrupt, the yellow Streak brother held up a hoof to stop her, something he's bound to get punished for at their next training session. "I think it's time you put 'em on the table."
With a disgusted snort, Soarin stood and reached into his flight suit. After a brief pause, he set a small, box on the table. Spitfire looked at the velvet container with the silver inlay, not quite understanding. She didn't believe her eyes at first, but every romance movie and sappy love story she'd ever heard from other mares told her that this little box housed an engagement ring.
Spitfire had only a moment to be in awe when Soarin set down a second box. Similar to the first, only the colour was a deep, ocean blue with gold filagree. Was that a... second engagement ring?
No time was given to ponder that when Soarin placed a third box, this one burgundy, next to the others. Soon, Spitfire's suspicions were confirmed when he opened all three boxes to reveal three beautiful and extravagant rings.
"There." Soarin muttered.
"Okay," Spitfire said, a touch uncertain. "Are you going to tell me why you have three engagement rings?"
"Yeah," Thunderlane agreed. "When did you start carrying around the third one?"
"You know the Pie Family down at Rockville?" Soarin asked. Upon receiving a few nods, he continued, "Well, the third one's a freebie for helping them reunite Pinkie Pie with Surprise, who's apparently her long lost cousin."
"You poor bastard."
"Excuse me," Spitfire said, her patience wearing thin. "But why the fuck do you have three engagement rings at all? I know I love one-upping Dizzy, but I'm not down to share!"
"Spitfire," Soarin started hesitantly, reaching back to scratch the back of his head. "I've been trying to propose to you for a while. It's just that, um, the moment's never really been right, y'know? So I've, uh, ended up picking up some rings for when the moment's perfect."
"That was incredibly sugar-coated." Silver Zoom said, crossing his hooves. Spitfire's intense glaring cut short the accompanying nods.
"How long have you been waiting for this so-called 'perfect moment,' Soarin?" Spitfire asked.
"Um, can I just say a while?" He asked, offering a wide, hopeful grin.
"No."
"Oh, my Twilight," Lightning Streak said, exasperated. "Let's just get it over with. The dumbass has been trying to marry you for the last seven years."
"Wuh– seven?!" Spitfire blurted, eyes not unlike saucers. "Years? Seven years? How could you not have found an acceptable moment in seven fucking years?!"
Soarin chuckled nervously at that. Beginning to sweat profusely, he swallowed and thought about his words very, very carefully. When he finally admitted there was not going to be an easy way to explain things, he felt the air current around the room for the nearest window for a quick getaway. "Well, it's not that I haven't found a moment, per se. But, uh, that all those moments kept getting... um, interrupted?"
"Interrupted how?" Spitfire asked, leaning forward to enhance her wrathful gaze.
"It's just, y'know, when I'm about to pop the question," Soarin said, beginning to ramble. "Sometimes things just sorta, I guess, happen. Right? Like, say, an emergency Wonderbolts summon or an assassination attempt. Stuff that just ruins the mood and all."
"Soarin," Spitfire began, her voice flat and devoid of emotion. "There haven't been any assassination attempts on either of us or any Wonderbolt for that matter. Ever. And we don't get called for emergencies that much."
"I was just givin' you examples, okay?" Soarin said, hands up.
"Uh-huh. The truth. Now." Spitfire demanded. To emphasise her insistence, the fierce Bolt cracked her hooves.
"What you have to understand, Spits," Soarin said, his eyes darting around. "Is that accidents can happen to anypony. Sometimes, a pony can have a lot of accidents! It's not that pony's fault, right? It just... happens."
"Sooooaaaariiiiiin."
"This is just sad," Lightning Streak said, interrupting Spitfire's building fury. "And trust me, I've seen sad." He turned his gaze towards his twin brother.
"Okay, fine!" Soarin snapped. "Spitfire, the reason I haven't been able to propose to you is because... You keep messing it up."
Stillness settled over the small shop as the revelation echoed. The couple's long-time friends—Fire Streak, Lightning Streak, Silver Zoom, Thunderlane and Blossomforth—all sucked in their breath, anticipating the worst as Spitfire tilted her head and slowly began to digest the information.
For her part, Spitfire stood analysing her better half. Her formidable intellect struggled to reconcile what she'd heard and the heartbreaking honesty in Soarin's face. Unable to fully wrap her mind around this new surprise, she instead chose to just stare at her mate. Maybe she could decipher the hidden meaning of his words. Because, really–
"How does somepony screw up getting a proposal?" Spitfire asked, bewildered.
"Well, I–" Soarin stammered, "I think 'screw up' is a bit har–"
"Apt." Silver Zoom said.
"Accurate." Added Thunderlane.
"Understated." Lightning Streak countered.
"Hey!" Fire Streak exclaimed. "I'm sure that our Captain did not mean to destroy so many rings!"
"Destroy?" Spitfire asked. She didn't notice one of the cadets gave up their seat and guided her towards it as her hooves grew weak. "I destroyed rings?"
"What? No!" Soarin shouted while directing a brief glare towards Fire Streak. "Not in the conventional sense, at least."
"Ah," Spitfire deadpanned. Still dazed, she continued, "And just how... unconventionally... did I destroy these rings? Is there even a conventional way?"
"Well," Thunderlane started, not quite relishing the memories. "I think the first one was mangled when you sucker bucked him. There was one you dumped in the incinerator. A couple were just lost because you tossed them away. And... Zoom, think the Captain finally pass number six?"
Aghast, Spitfire watched as Silver Zoom took out a file out of thin air labeled 'Captain Spitfire's Stomach Aches' and inside was a calendar, a bunch of notes and labels. "Yes, a while back." Silver Zoom confirmed. "Pity, that one was particularly well-crafted. Excellent colour."
Thunderlane nodded in sympathy. "I don't know much about gems, but it was like it came straight from the Crystal Empire."
"I ate one?! And you recorded my stomach aches?!" Spitfire lunged for the calendar and read aloud, "4 on, 28 off, next moon on the 10th... AND MY MENSTRUAL CYCLE?!"
"I can explain." Silver Zoom paused, sitting in silence before continuing. "Oh, I thought you'd yell over me. Okay, I can explain. At first, I was just keeping track of your stomach aches since you ate the ring. Then, I notice a fluctuating pattern and I started graphing them. By the time I realised what I was actually measuring, it started yielding positive results for everypony, so I kept doing it."
"I might have to suspend you for this," She said, taking the rest of the file and handing it over to Blossomforth, whispering her to burn it. "But I gotta say, it's so accurate."
"I understand and thank you." Silver Zoom grinned. "I pride myself as the intellectual of the Wonderbolts."
"So," Spitfire turned back to Soarin. "You made me swallow an engagement ring."
"Not on purpose!" Soarin exclaimed. "I was trying to do that thing where I put the ring in a wine glass and say 'Let's make a toast!' and then you'll go 'Woah! Is this what I think it is?!' Only it, uh, didn't exactly work out like that."
"And Somnambula's a little sandy..." Silver Zoom muttered. "I'm talking about the village, not the pony."
"I... I think I'm starting to understand." Spitfire said, lying profusely. She wasn't understanding anything, except perhaps Soarin's little mishap with laxatives a couple of moons ago. Although, speaking of things that smelled funny... "Wait a damn minute," Spitfire said. "How come everypony here knows about all this proposal stuff?!"
"That's actually a funny story." Soarin chuckled, tugging on the collar of his flight suit. "See, after a couple of... accidents... I asked for some help to make the best proposal ever."
"You needed help?" Spitfire raised a skeptical eyebrow. "From four elite Bolts?"
"Nine actually," Lightning Streak corrected. "As well as three cadets and a hippogriff have all been involved in one scheme or another. Crash came around one day and told us that some sort of table in the Castle of Friendship recognised this as an official friendship mission so we had a reason to dedicate sufficient ponypower to it."
Spitfire felt no shame in letting her jaw hang open.
"So, uh, congratulations, Spitfire!" Soarin exclaimed, drawing her eyes back to him. "We're getting married and we're helping the Elements of Harmony!"
Managing a weak smile, Spitfire turned back to Lightning Streak. Swallowing her anxiety, she hesitantly asked, "H–How many attempts have been made?"
Tense silence filled the air as a flurry of quick glances were exchanged between stallions. Finally, Fire Streak cleared his throat and stared his captain directly in the eyes. "We have no idea."
Spitfire gracelessly let her forehead meet the table.
"In all honesty," Soarin said, gently rubbing his marefriend's back. "I stopped keeping track after the first time you said yes..."
"The first time I what?" Spitfire peeked over her hooves at the blue pegasus. "I said yes? When the fuck was that?!"
"Remember when we performed in Yakyakistan for the first time?" Soarin asked, receiving an uncertain head nod. "Well, I popped the question to you during the standing ovation. I think that was ring number four... Doesn't matter! Anyways, you said yes and I was really thrilled. Then, a yak gave you a headbutt of love and you forgot the whole thing."
"I got amnesia?!"
"Only a couple of times!" Soarin amended. "Prince Rutherford felt so bad because it seemed like it went over his head that he should've implemented some sort of crowd control system. But after I knew you'd say yes, I stopped counting because I knew we were gonna get married!"
"The brain damage would make it more likely." Thunderlane muttered. He hissed as he got kicked from under the table.
When only a muffled groan emerged from his bride-to-be, Soarin glared at his companions and repeated himself. "I said, we're gonna get married."
Blank stares were his only reward until finally one of the cadets nudged Fire Streak, setting off a chain reaction of forced cheers and awkward well-wishing. Lackluster applause and congratulations sputtered out just as quickly as it started. Yet still Spitfire refused to lift her head.
The need to dispel her woes upon him, Soarin firmly yet gently cupped her chin with his hooves and lifted her head to face him. With deliberate care, he wiped away the wet streaks along her cheeks with a hoof. When her watery eyes finally met his, Soarin smiled.
"Pick one." He coaxed, angling his head towards the three rings still atop the table. "I guess it won't feel right unless I do it proper-like, so pick one."
Mortified at the recent turn of events, and doubly so that she had to sniffle a bit because of a runny nose, Spitfire found it easier to focus on the different coloured boxes than the sincerity radiating from the stallion in front of her. She tried to huff as she wiped her eyes with her hooves. "Nothing's ever normal with us isn't it, Soarin." She chuckled, her voice cracking. "The blue one, I guess."
"We're too cool to be normal." Soarin said, smile widening as he plucked the ring from the middle box. Spitfire noted an exceptional radiance from the gem, and how the light reflected was colourless except when the angle was just so. Then, there was the faintest tint of blue. Once more, Soarin captured her attention as he took her hooves in his, gazing deep into her eyes.
"Spitfire," he began, confident and bold. "I would be the happiest–"
"THUNDERLANE?!" Cried a wrathful Princess of Love as she stormed into the shop. Her purple eyes blazed with fury as she directed her horn, glowing with magical energy, at the table's general direction. "You will pay for your slanderous words against my beloved!"
"Aw shit." Thunderlane muttered.
"For fuck's sake! Not again!" Soarin shouted, pulling at his mane. Discarding all sense of propriety, the Wonderbolts second-in-command shoved the box into Spitfire's hooves. "Just take it and marry me!"
"Gladly!" Spitfire shouted back, swiping the ring out and tossing the box away. Adorning her new jewelry, Spitfire pointed in the direction of their home and issued a command, "Now let's get the fuck outa here!"
Faster than the eye could see, the freshly engaged couple zoomed out a window, leaving behind an outline of dust where they stood, and they lived happily ever after.
