Leaving The Door Open (To A New Relationship)
Spitfire groggily woke up. Her vision welcomed her with a blurry view of her room, while a searing pain registered in her skull. She gritted her teeth and held her head with a hoof.
What happened last night?
Her recollection was scattered, restlessness, droning. She could somewhat recall the preperations for practice. Her team was rehearsing for their up and coming performance in Canterlot. Soarin told her she was a bit too stressed about one particular crossover move they were going to need to do while upside down. So, what better thing to do then to have Fleetfoot flick her wing at Spitfire just to make those pre-practice jitters go scarce? Safe to say, while it did work, she needed Fleetfoot to take a one-way trip around the Cloudeseum... multiple times.
Maybe she had a skewed way of viewing what a one-way trip was.
That wasn't the only thing she could remember. She remembered her flight. How her wings had burned after each flap. She could remember the wind as it had danced around her. She could remember its resistance as she had torn through the sky. It was harmony, truly. That was until Surprise had shot right past her and had waved at her. That had lit a fire under Spitfire's fur. She was not the type to be outdone by her peers. They all looked up to her. Spitfire. The Captain of the Wonderbolts. That was her name, that was her role, that was her. She needed to maintain this mental fortitude... just like she needed to continue pushing herself to the limit to the point of being here—
Wait.
That's why she was here. After putting in the extra hours, she was seeing a blur of her mirror to her left, the closet nearby too, the colors mixing and blending, definition void. The pain filtering this view for her burned through her skull.
She knew what this was.
She was sick. Sick in her bed.
Grounded.
Spitfire groaned as her body sunk back into her creature comforts. The pillow propped her just enough to feel… okay, while the covers kept her warm and away from any prying eyes—oh, who was she kidding? There weren't any prying eyes! She lived alone for crying out loud!
She shook her head and flipped over, choosing to comfortably lay on her side. She clutched her pillow, nuzzling it slightly.
An itch tickled her back. She scooted to hopefully rub it away. Unfortunately for her, it didn't leave. It traveled further down her spine.
She partially sighed, but something in her gave way, and a cough escaped her.
“Whoever got me sick is about to see Faust.”
“Well, I am definitely not the reason for that.”
Spitfire’s eyes widened as she flipped back over. She peered at the door, her wings now out and pushing the blanket she had over her to the side.
Then, she calmed down. She knew who this was.
“Anon… what are you—”
“Had to pay one of my favorite ponies a visit!" His dumb old grin. Wonder why he swung by— "Did you know you left your door unlocked?”
“No…” Spitfire said. She looked away from him, not wanting to let him see her. "I didn't know—"
“That’s definitely not like you." He walked further into the room, choosing to lean on the wall beside the door frame. "Anyway, after attempting to knock and seeing that your door creaked open, I decided to walk in to see what was going on. Glad I decided to do that because man… you look like shit.”
Spitfire weakly chuckled. “You always have a way with words…”
“Damn straight. It’s why ponies love me!”
“Keep telling yourself that, Anon. It’s good for your health,” Spitfire said with a slight smirk. It probably looked to him like her lip was fighting to stay in place, but it’s not her fault that every muscle of hers felt so heavy! Egh.
“Sorry you have to see me like this—eep!”
Spitfire didn't know how she lost track of him, but she did. She lost him so badly that Anon had walked over to her side, assessed her bedsheets, folded them up a bit to give her some more air, and then, with the amount of gumption that she didn't know he possessed, patted her square on her head, tousling with her mane. She squeaked (she'd never admit this was ever sounded off by her) when he had done that, and growled when his hand stayed there, messing up her already messed up mane. She didn't not need double the bedhead! Grunting, she flicked her forehoof to try and beat him away, but all that did was make her do this posh-like fanning torward him, which made him raise a brow. She harrumphed, letting her hooves fall to her sides. She'll surrender to his ways, for now.
“There, that’s better,” Anon said. His hand grazed Spitfire’s cheek, which caused her to feel the burn migrate to her cheeks. “You know, you ponies are so cute. It’s kind of like a weapon of yours or something. Either that, or I’m seeing things and you actually look like you have two buck teeth that you could land a plane on, and your eyes are actually eldritch portals and—okay, okay! I’m stopping. I’m stopping!”
Spitfire grinned as she managed to summon just enough strength to bat him with her wing. While Anon was recovering from her hit, she remembered how she had met him. It was through one of those internal security meetings the top officers of the Wonderbolts attended with Princess Celestia. Said royalty took charge of this Security Council (Wonderbolts had a major stake here, as they could be deployed as an elite scouting task force for reconnaissance as needed) and had introduced Anon has an observer who will ‘observe how Equestrian politics worked’, whatever that meant. It wasn't that it wasn't shocking to Spitfire. Who in their right mind would give security clearance to an entirely different species without notifying the rest of the council beforehoof? Apparently Anon was a special case or he was just really good friends with Princess Celestia. At the time, Spitfire just accepted it as fact, though it was extremely strange. After the fact, all the stars aligned. How could she had made that connection during the meeting? Maybe if she just opened her eyes a bit more, it would've been more obvious. The goof was totally standing next to Princess Celestia, which is pretty rare for a non-guard to do. He tried to not make eye contact with anyone other than Celestia, and he never offered his perspective. He just jotted down words on his pad of paper he was given. Maybe that should have been the dead giveway, since Raven was the only pony that would record all their meetings in writing. Since Anon was there...
It's strange to remember all the signs now, especially that day when she had noticed him out of the corner of her eye. And that day, she had paid more attention to him than to the meeting. And she knew that Anon had looked over at her too. Their gazes met and they kept that staring contest going until Princess Celestia had cleared her throat, knowing full well that her adviser was very distracted. Luckily for Spitfire, none of her teammates had really noticed, except for Soarin who she knew had seen their little interaction. He hadn't said anything to her after everything went down. Spitfire was happy she could trust Soarin to not embarrass her too much. On the other hoof, she forgot what the word boundary meant in those instances. She had really wanted to know if Anon had to meet with Celestia after that meeting, but all he had told her was absolutely nothing, except who he was and why he was curious about her too. She hadn't mind it at all. Learning about an alien was way more interesting than discussing scouting missions that had usually led to nothing with a long-winded written report describing that nothing in way too much detail.
Ever since then, they’ve gone from acquaintances to slightly closer to friends, to best friends in a matter of a year. And Spitfire was happy about that. She was happy that Anon would visit her. Sure it was a lengthy train ride away, followed by an even more lengthy balloon ride and enduring a cast of a cloudwalking spell just to get over to her place. And he even had to wait for the clerk downstairs to provide him directions just to visit her—okay he endured a lot just to do this unannounced. It peeved her a bit, knowing that he did all this just to waltz right into her apartment like this, but she didn't regret it. Who better to help her on a sick day than her best friend?
His toothy grin made her cheeks flare and her wings tingle.
She was totally not attracted to him. Yep. Not one bit.
Spitfire licked her lips. They were dry and cracked, while her mouth felt rough and airy.
She was thirsty. Very thirsty.
“Uhh, Anon?”
“Yeah, Spitty?”
Spitty, the nickname she got called in school, and subsequently, by her teammates. And now by him. She'll make him pay later. “Could you get me some water?”
“I can do that." He turned around and began to move, only to stop in his tracks and continued, "On the rocks or lukewarm?”
She rustled under her blankets and sighed. “On the rocks. Make sure I don’t wake up again.”
“Death is not in the cards, but I’ll see if I can make this the best water you’ve ever drank! I’ll be back.”
With that, Anon walked out of her room and into the hall, probably to see if he could make his way to her kitchen in her suite without bumping his head on some random doorframe—“ACK! Stupid door!”—and he hit his head like she was thought he would.
“Did you learn anything?!” she attempted to shout, her saliva catching on the word 'learn'.
The mistake was that he left the room to her bedroom open, and he could definitely hear her despite how hoarse her voice was. She coughed just as she thought that.
“Yeah, I did. You ponies don't know how to build doors! Is your apartment pony accessible only? I’m about as concussed as a professional American football player every time I ram my head into one of these!”
Spitfire rolled her eyes. “Just remember to duck! It’s not hard!”
“Of course you would say that!" Suddenly, a gasp. "Ah, there’s your fridge!”
“It took you that long to find it?”
Spitfire could hear Anon’s voice become louder, not because he was shouting, but because he was walking right back to her room. She smiled as he saw the human round the corner and back into her bedroom, sporting a water bottle in one hand, and a glass of water with a few ice cubes dancing in it in another.
“Your definition of a fridge is basically a small icebox with a few bottles of water in it. Mine is a much grandiose vault of chilly and slightly below room temperature goodies. We are not the same.”
Spitfire chuckled as she saw her glass of water swoop right in front of her. “Well I’m glad, because I don’t have to worry about a traumatic brain injury by simply walking into another room.” She sat up and took the glass the human offered her with both her forehooves. Carefully, she took a generous sip from it, feeling the liquid rush down her gullet. She sighed and licked her lips. “Nice water, by the way.”
Anon placed the bottle on her bedside desk before taking a bow. “Thank you. I am the chef for the day and I will take every compliment and put it in my journal, which is filled to the brim by the way as I get so many compliments every day.”
“I assume that the majority of the pages are blank because you are not given that many compliments.”
“You are mistaken, little mare,” Anon said, wagging his finger at her. Stupid finger. “I get compliments from nobles, Celly, and even that little goofball of a sister of hers. They all adore me.”
“Adoring and complimenting somepony are two different things, Anon.”
“Yeah? And so is you getting better and you being sick. Let’s try to shoot for getting you better.”
He pulled up a chair he had in her room and sat beside her. That made the warmth that tortured her all the more blazoned. She could feel the flush as her stomach danced with her anxiety.
See, Celestia had given ponies the ability to feel things. And Spitfire was feeling not only sick, but also a bit peeved by Anon. She was happy he was here, but she was not happy he was here. Every time he was here, her heart would be a bit more full, and that was not like her. She had only felt this way once before, with another stallion not from her team, but he turned out to be the stallion who was not a fan of having a relationship. It hurt her for a while when he left, since they had been together for quite some time. And she was worried. Worried about being single again as she felt she didn't know how to even start.
Years later, Spitfire had put these feelings away. Locked them up behind a cellar door that led to nowhere. Unfortunately for her, they had broken out, manifesting in her ever since Anon and her became friends. The fact that they migrated over to him made her even more worried. What was she to do with these feelings? Act on them now, or execute them in a back alley? She wasn’t a fan of violence, so the second option wasn’t one she wanted to tap into, but the first one…
The first one she was afraid of. She was afraid of losing a friend she cared about.
“Spitty?”
“Y-Yeah?”
“You okay?”
Spitfire felt Anon’s gaze pierce right through her. “Uh… yeah.” She took a sip of the water still in her hooves, before setting it aside next to the bottle. “Sorry, was thinking of something.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
The words she was dreading on hearing. She wasn’t a fan of talking about her feelings, most of those were for her non-existent therapist to hear. But these ones were different. She had these feelings bubbling in her for quite some time. Was she actually ready to tell him?
More importantly: did she... deserve it?
Spitfire shook her head. “Uh… not exactly, but it’s going to bother me if I don’t talk about it.”
“So that’s a yes?”
“Yeah, you dolt.”
“I am not a dolt or a colt. I am a human, Spitty. And I care about you, even if you don’t know it.”
“I know,” Spitfire said. She flopped back onto her pillow, adjusting it to prop her up even further so she could comfortably look at Anon. “I know. I’m glad you do. Somebody has to.”
Anon chuckled and patted her head again. “You know, I'm not the only one that cares about you. A lot of ponies do. Like your teammates. Celestia. Me.”
“Didn't you already say yourself?”
"I did. Had to include myself twice for... reasons."
"And you're also not a pony."
“I have to say that otherwise you’ll be confused if I said ‘people’.”
“People?”
“Exactly,” Anon said before snapping his fingers. She laughed. “A lot of ponies and the 'only' human in Equestria care about you. So why are you feeling like a plastic bag?”
“It’s… complicated.”
“I have heard that way too much from women. It’s always a bad sign for a guy," Anon began, leaning back in his chair, moving his hands to and fro as he spoke, "Either she’s not interested and is trying to be polite, or she’s really, really in a complicated situation that she can’t explain without going on a thousand word diatribe on why she is in said a thousand word complication. It’s… tiring.”
Spitfire scooted closer to Anon and smiled. “Way to vent out your frustrations, Anon.”
“We are pretty similar in that way, aren’t we?”
“Well I haven’t ranted yet, so no.”
Anon rolled his eyes and leaned in. “Are you going to start?”
Spitfire sighed. “I guess. I’ll start by being as direct as possible, because I know you operate on a one track mind.”
“Thanks for politely stating I’m a space cadet, Spitty.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Spitfire replied, pushing a hoof into his side on the word ‘you’. Anon fake winced and groaned. “Besides, this is important! And I’m being honest, that’s all.”
“Good because if you lie to me, I’ll make sure Celly considers upping the ante on capital punishment. She’ll sentence you to be tickled by the tickling squad in the dungeons.”
“Have mercy!” Spitfire professed. She coughed as she said this, which apparently made Anon pop off his chair and lean down to hold her a bit closer to him. “A-Anon?”
“Sorry, you were coughing and I needed you to stop sounding like Rarity, so pulling you in for a hug was all I could think of.”
Spitfire was on fire right now. Physically, her head was pounding, thanks to her compounded headache. She was probably blushing because of her mental forest fire she had going on, since Anon had pulled her closer to him and she was not prepared for it at all.
After all, he was part of her problem.
“If I start sounding like Rarity, get out the Fireball.”
He shook his head. "No alcohol for the sick pony. How about that nice glass of water I got you? It'll totally work for a thirsty mare like you.”
"Thirsty mare?"
"Did I stutter?"
She rolled her eyes as she felt a smile tug at her lips. “I'm not thirsty now, but you're right. Thanks…”
“No problem."
Silence reigned.
"So...?"
Anon's voice rung loud and clear in her ears. There was no way out of this. Spitfire sighed again. “Promise me you won’t think less of me?”
“I promise.”
She steeled herself and let those feelings of hers tumble out. “I like you, Anon. I like you a lot and it’s been eating me up these past few months—”
“Sorry to interrupt, but you like me?”
She looked up to see his eyes widened and his hanging jaw that he was trying to pick up but was failing rather spectacularly.
She chuckled behind a hoof. “Yes.”
“Like like me?”
“Dude, are you a stallion or a colt?”
“Sorry, I don’t speak Equestrian.”
“You idiot,” Spitfire said, before breaking out of his embrace for a moment. “Sorry, you probably shouldn’t be so close to me when I’m saying this. Might make you cuddle me to death.”
“Not a bad way to go out,” Anon said, before shaking his head. “But yeah, that might be wise. I’m not a fan of squeezing someone who just confessed to me to death.”
“Good, because my team needs me, so please don’t.”
“I'll try not to, but no promises." He leaned in just to squeeze her to make a point. If he was a pegasus and a Wonderbolt, that would've earned him an academy record in lap-taking. "So, you like me in that way. When did it start?”
She let out a shaky breath. “After we went out for hayburgers and a night on the prowl. You… got me that giant bear over there, remember?”
In the corner, stood a plush bear. It was tall. It was fluffy.
It was also a gift from Anon.
Anon smiled and looked over at the bear. “Yep, that was a fun night. I’m surprised that I somehow won that thing. Who knew I had actual luck in raffles?”
“I don’t know, but I was just… happy. I hadn’t been with somepony in so long that it just hit me all at once that night.”
“You were pretty needy back then and—”
Spitfire felt her face crunch together, like she was glaring at him with a thousand daggers. “What do you mean by that?”
Anon held his hands up. “I know what you’re thinking. But trust me when I say this…” He took a deep breath. “I knew you liked me.”
“W-What?”
“Yeah. It wasn’t that night I guessed it, but do you remember when I was being hit on by that mare at the bar in Canterlot?”
“Yeah, she was trying to flirt with you.”
“Yep, and you stepped in and told her to back off.”
“That was literally weeks ago.”
“Yep. And nopony else tried to jump in." He put his hand on the side of the bed. "They were probably too stunned to do anything. I mean, Soarin and Fleetfoot were talking about it for the rest of the night, remember?”
Her cheeks were heating up, and she felt more inclined to play with her forehooves than look at Anon. “I… I tried passing it off as her trying to attack you—”
“Dumb decision, Spitty. Made it way more obvious.”
“So that’s why Fleetfoot teased me back in the hotel room…”
“Good work on that, by the way.”
“Shut up.”
The two stared at each. They stared and then they started laughing. Loudly.
Their laughter could most likely be heard by all the residents in that apartment of Spitfire’s, but that didn’t deter them. She'll probably get a noise complaint tomorrow morning. That'd be future Spitfire's problem.
After a few moments, they both calmed down, Spitfire being the first. She looked up to Anon with enough love to fill up a colony of Changelings and that was saying something.
She really loved him, didn’t she?
Her heart replied with a breakneck pace. Typical flyer heart, huh?
Yet, she hadn’t gotten an answer from him. She needed to hear it. There was no way she was going to let him go without him at least telling her something.
“So… Anon?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you… like me back?”
Those tantalizing words tasted like burnt mushrooms, but she waited. She needed to hear him.
Anon didn't say anthing immediately. It looked like he was chewing on the inside of his cheek like he was metaphorically chewing on her words, while the rest of his face remained blank. He wore it well. His gaze was honed in strictly on her.
Then, he wiped a hand through his hair. He had cut his hair recently, so it was way shorter than usual. She knew that because she was with him when he did it… she was with him a lot recently.
This wasn’t helping her nerves right now. This wasn’t helping her at all.
Anon spoke up, “I think I do.”
“You think you do?”
“Yeah. It’s hard to really say it’s the same way. I never thought of you ponies like that.”
“You never thought of us like that?”
“Yeah, I mean, it’s hard to explain, but I’ve been here for quite some time, but not enough to accept the fact that I still am the only one here. You all sound human, but you’re not human. You’re ponies with the ability to speak English—”
“Equestrian.”
“Whatever, English speaking horse. Anyway, you talk like humans, you probably feel the same way humans do, yet you’re small horses. You have some mannerisms of them, and then you act similarly to humans. It confuses me. If I really am the only human here, I wonder why I’m cursed with this... life. Why am I even here?”
“If you start thinking like that, you’ll never feel at home.”
Where did that come from?
Anon tilted his head. “I never thought of it like that, but that makes sense.” He tapped a lone finger on his chin before pointing it at her. “Say, why do you like me?”
“Because you care about me.”
“So does Soarin.”
“He’s too busy eating apple pies and munching on Fleetfoot’s feathers to care in that way.”
Anon raised a brow and retracted his finger. “Oh… they’re?”
“You say you knew about me but you haven’t noticed how Soarin looks at Fleetfoot?”
“I…” Anon started, but she noticed he lost himself in his thoughts, his gaze looking elsewhere. Then, he returned back to her, smiling. “Touché.”
Spitfire shifted on the bed. Her wings were really uncomfortable right now, and her heart was racing a mile a minute. She took a deep, shaky breath.
“Not to mention that you not only care about me more than they do, I just… feel right with you. We mesh well, don’t we?”
“That we do,” Anon said. He pulled her back into an embrace and petted her mane. “You know, I get it now. So you like me. And now I have to figure it all out, don’t I?”
“Well if you don’t want to answer, you can just keep petting me and—”
“Nah, I should probably give you an answer, but I’ll keep petting you because you look so adorable right now.”
“I will burn you where you stand,” Spitfire barked, before being booped on her muzzle. Her vision went cross.
“Nope, not with those cross-eyes you won’t. Besides, you like me too much to do that.”
Spitfire groaned. “Shut up.”
“Don’t you want me to tell you—”
“Nevermind, keep talking.”
“Thatta-girl,” Anon said as he continued to pet her mane. He was gentle with her hair, making her coo as he scratched the top of her head. “So, you want an answer, and I… don’t know how to answer.”
“You don’t know how?”
“It’s… complicated, like you said.”
“Yeah, for me. I didn't know it would be this complicated for you too! I thought you’d either reject me, or tell me you’ll think about it.”
“You didn’t even think I’d say yes?”
“Have you said yes?”
“Stop playing this like it’s twenty questions. I’m not a good show contestant.”
“Just get to the point then!” Spitfire barked.
“Okay, okay. Sheesh.” Anon scratched the back of his head with his hand, before looking into Spitfire’s eyes. She could see him at that point, all of him. And it was strange. “I… I like you too. But I may need some time to warm up to it.”
“W-Warm up?”
“You mares are a bit different from human women. And… I think I need to mentally battle with everything, but I think I can do it if I’m with you, Spitfire.”
He said her actual name. She knew he was being serious about this. And she was happy. She was happy because he was giving this a shot. He was giving her a shot.
Those feelings from before, the ones that had her wracked with worry, suddenly exploded into nervousness that raced up and down her spine. She was free. She didn't have to put them under lock and key anymore.
She wouldn't be alone any longer.
Spitfire grinned and this time pulled him closer. She had wrapped her wings around him, his head against her fluff of her chest. He was warm just like she was, only he wasn't sick with this silly fever-thing she got. Instead of it hurting her, his warmth felt right. He had brought her a glass of water, meaning that the cough wasn't going to come back. Her headache... well, it was there, but it wasn't pulsing like before when she woke up. And her ears... her ears were warm. They were warm like her cheeks, like her heart, like her everything. Part of her even wanted him to ruffle her feathers a bit, but that was way too soon. She needed to tell him another way. To tell him how she felt.
Smiling, she brought him up to her level.
"Spitfire—"
Anon gasped. She had leaned in and kissed him on the cheek and was now watching his every move. His cheeks grew red, his eyes were wide as could be, and one of his hands was rubbing over the spot she kissed him.
Then, he stuttered out his reply, "W-What was that for?”
She leaned in and nuzzled that same cheek with hers. “Thank you for liking me back.”
"No problem, S-Spitty,” she heard him shakily reply, before he let out an exhale that he was probably holding in because of her.
Those words were like magic to her ears. She purred as his arms wrapped around her form. This was totally unexpected, to just let out all of her feelings and be reciprocated like this. But here she was, with Anon, a human comfortable enough to hug her even if she was about to sneeze her brains out (or was that a false alarm?).
Thankfully, it would be only a matter of time before Spitfire was not sick. And that was fine with her. She didn't care about being sick anymore. She gained someone who could hug her whenever she wanted.
Wait... was that what she always wanted? To be held? To be loved?
She looked up at him one more time and smiled.
He definitely was on track to being the one she wanted.
Author's Note
This story made me stay awake until 3AM.
Good night.
