Down in Cloudsdale’s lower east end, there was a bar called the Nimbus. Small, out of the way, and constructed mainly using stained oak it was old. Some claimed it was older than the city itself, having been originally part of a small village that had gotten dragged into the swelling settlement. Regardless of this rumor’s truth, it remained a favored watering hole of the Wonderbolts, though that was strictly unofficial.

No one from such an esteemed organization would declare that this tiny dive bar was affiliated with them in any way. That didn't mean it wasn't an open secret, however, and many wannabe stunt fliers frequented the place, hoping to catch a glimpse of their hero. Or at least that was the case when school wasn't in, and it was a weekend.

It was the middle of the week, during late fall. Too early for winter break, but too late for summer, the small bar was unusually quiet.

As usual, the nimbus had only a single employee, a wiry old pegasus mare that seemed both as old as the hills and or in her early thirties. No one could tell. She had a gaze that could unsettle even the most hardened of alcohol, and tales of her surprising martial skill ensured that no one started a fight. At least not before leaving the bar first anyway.

She wasn't alone though, as a small crew of regulars populated the stools sitting closest to the counter. Of the other tables nearby had occupants, though they were mostly transients. A group of young adults waiting for their movie to start, and a duo of pegasi factory workers killing time until they headed home. It was at the back, beyond the small pony wall that divided this area from the front where the true party animals gathered.

“If I hit this you two gotta make out,” Rainbow Dash declared, pointing to a pair of mares standing across the pool table from her.

The duo exchanged a look and a shrug before nodding at Rainbow Dash.

“You sure you can get it though?” Asked a young stallion holding the other pool cue. “You kinda suck at hitting those double bank shots.”

“Who says I’m banking anything?” Rainbow Dash declared.

Then with a clack, she sent the ball flying over the eight, and into the six on the other side, sinking it but luckily not the cue ball.

“Well I’ll be damned,” murmured Rainbow Dash’s opponent. “I didn't think you’d get it.”

“Come on ladies, give it up,” Rainbow Dash exclaimed.

The two young mares all but threw themselves at each other, making out with an almost violent level of passion. Hooves groped at the other’s body, and together they rolled onto the table, knocking balls everywhere. Neither of the players cared, with both staring slack-jawed as the mares they had been drinking with all but tongue fucked each other in the middle of the bar.

“Damn. That's hot,” murmured the stallion.

“No kidding,” Rainbow Dash agreed.

“So… wanna make out?” Asked the thin, feminine stallion.

Rainbow Dash glanced at him curiously, inspecting him up and down before shaking her head.

“You’re cute, I’ll give you that but I like my mares,” Rainbow Dash stated.

“Fair. Call it a draw?” He offered, extending a hoof.

“A draw it is,” Rainbow Dash agreed, clopping her hoof.

Rainbow Dash then departed, shouldering her Wonderbolts flight jacket as she did so. A part of her wanted to stay, to coax the two mares into making out with her, but she resisted. She had seen that kind of passion before, between Rarity and Applejack. When they got like that nothing would get in their way, and it was best to clear out.

Or grab a drink and watch. Either way, Rainbow Dash needed another cider.

“Angry Orchard, please,” Rainbow Dash remarked.

The barkeeper nodded and departed. Returning a few seconds later she popped the top off the dark bottle and placed it before Rainbow Dash. A couple of bits passed from one hoof to the other, and just like that the transaction was over.

Rainbow Dash turned around, leaning on the bar while taking a long, slow swig of her beverage. She wondered if she should return to the pool area, or perhaps strike up a conversation with another of the old fliers sitting nearby. Before she could make up her mind she saw the door swing open, letting in the cool evening air.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Rainbow Dash muttered.

Standing in the doorway was Spitfire, the ever-busy leader of the Wonderbolts. Having ditched her usual professional outfit, she wore a bomber jacket emblazoned with the same logo that adorned Rainbow Dash’s. Only Spitfire’s also bore the two iron bars signifying that she had the highest rank attainable by the Wonderbolts.

It wasn't her clothing that grabbed Rainbow Dash’s attention, but, rather Spitfire’s expression. She looked… tired, exhausted even. With deep bags hanging under her eyes, she looked like she was ready to pass out.

Spitfire glanced her way, meeting Rainbow Dash’s gaze. The two mares exchanged a knowing little nod. A moment later Spitfire was sitting on the stool only a few feet from where Rainbow Dash leaned.

“Screwdriver and make it a double,” Spitfire exclaimed.

“Hard day?” Rainbow Dash inquired.

Spitfire ignored the comment and paid for her drink. The moment her bits were on the table, Spitfire picked up the glass and downed its contents in two quick gulps.

“Another,” Spitfire ordered.

The barkeep nodded and did just that.

This time Spitfire sipped at the drink, releasing a long sigh after the liquid hit her belly.

“You could say that,” Spitfire remarked, glancing at Rainbow Dash out of the corner of her eye.

“Well, shit girl. You wanna talk about it or drink until you forget why you are drinking.?” Rainbow Dash asked, sipping her beverage absently.

“Maybe in a minute. For now, why don't you tell me what you're doing around these parts,” Spitfire replied. “The next practice isn't for another week.”

“Dad is in the hospital,” Rainbow Dash exclaimed. “Nothing serious mind you. Just a bit of a heart-related scare but by the time he was out it was already pretty late.”

“You wouldn't wanna fly back with the wind being the way it is,” Spitfire muttered. “We ain't as young as we used to be.”

“Oh I could make it if I really wanted to but I ain't got nothing to prove. That and I could really use some time away from Ponyville,” Rainbow Dash declared, shrugging to herself.

“I thought you had a whole harem of mares dangling on your dick. Why wouldn't you wanna be back there,” Spitfire retorted, her lips curling into something close to a bitter frown.

“I guess you could call it that but everyone’s busy for one reason or another,” Rainbow Dash answered. “Library convention, and an outbreak of feather flu to name just a few.”

“You are so hard done by,” Spitfire spat.

“Hey, you asked,” Rainbow Dash retorted.

“Sorry,” Spitfire exclaimed, raising a weary hoof. “Just pissy after a fucked up day.”

“Speaking a which. You gonna spill what happened or should I wait and read about it in the paper tomorrow?” Rainbow Dash pressed.

“You can read?” Spitfire muttered before downing the rest of her drink.

“Spits… you're crossin’ a line here,” Rainbow Dash warned.

“You're right just… give me a second,” Spitfire murmured, turning to the bartender. “Two of whatever she’s drinking.”

More bits were traded, and suddenly Spitfire was standing up.

“Where we sittin'?” She offered.

“Booth at the back,” Rainbow Dash answered, downing the rest of her drink.

Spitfire nodded.

The pair flew or trotted near the back of the bar, to one of the few out-of-the-way spots in the establishment. Someone could still easily spot them if they tried, but they were out of view from the majority of the bar. The two mares plunked down across from one another, with Spitfire passing Rainbow Dash one cider before taking a swig of the other.

“So we had an incident at one of our training camps earlier today,” Spitfire finally declared.

“No shit? Huh, no wonder you’re stressed,” Rainbow Dash murmured, accepting the beverage and taking a swig herself. “Hospital or morgue?”

“Nothing quite that grim,” Spitfire dismissed. “Just a twisted wing, and some bruised egos.”

“I know what that's like,” Rainbow Dash grunted.

“It wasn't too bad but the thing that gets me, and why I’m a bit worried is because I didn't notice anything wrong,” Spitfire confided, the mare deflating slightly. “I just chalked it up to good-natured ribbing and kept on like normal.”

“Lemme guess. A competition got out of hand?” Rainbow Dash pressed.

“You could say that,” Spitfire answered. “They ended up getting the exact same time and declared that they needed a redo in order to determine a winner.”

Rainbow Dash sipped her drink and waited as Spitfire collected her thoughts.

“I thought it was good practice so I let them go despite the complaints of my second in command,” Spitfire sighed. “I really shoulda listened to him.”

“Crashed?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“No a fight actually,” Spitfire replied. “The two blockheads tied three more times before coming to blows. Thankfully they were too exhausted to do anything more than awkwardly wrestle on a cloud.”

“And the twisted wing?” Rainbow Dash prompted.

“One of them fell out of the cloud,” Spitfire answered.

Rainbow Dash snorted, barely holding back laughter.

“Normally I’d find it hilarious but they both quit after that, leaving us short-winged,” Spitfire declared. “Worse still, Split Feather was right from the very beginning.”

Spitfire’s face contorted bitterly.

“Their competition wasn't friendly, it was going to escalate, and I shouldn't have let them continue racing,” Spitfire exclaimed. “If I had listened none of that would have happened.”

“So? You’re gonna make some bad calls. No one’s perfect,” Rainbow Dash declared.

“I just can't shake the thought that I should retire. Give Split Feather their due and spend the rest of my days as a lecturer or something,” Spitfire shrunk in her chair, shoulders pulling inward. “Or maybe I’ll just spend all my time here, pickling my innards with the rest of the drunks.”

“Maybe you should. Retire that is, not the pickling your guts with cheap vodka,” Rainbow Dash offered.

“Thanks for the pick me up Crash,” Spitfire spat. “And here I thought you were gonna pat me on the back and use this as an excuse to get into my pants.”

“You don't even wear pants, you old bird,” Rainbow Dash shot back.

“Ha, true,” Spitfire agreed.

“But seriously. There is no shame in stepping back and letting others take the spotlight,” Rainbow Dash pressed on. “You’re already the second longest-running team lead in history. Never mind all your other records and accomplishments. Your legacy is secure.”

“I mean… I guess,” Spitfire murmured.

“But you ain't retiring. I’m telling you that right now,” Rainbow Dash hastily added. “You’re just taking on a leadership position lower on the totem pole. They are still gonna need you to teach, to make sure everyone gets paid, and whatever bullshit responsibility you’ve hoisted on yourself over the years because you like being so damn busy.”

“Haha, true,” Spitfire declared, a grin coming to her face.

“Seriously girl. There’s no shame in taking a step back. I mean look at me,” Rainbow Dash proclaimed, opening her forehooves. “I’ve spent forever in the reserves because anything more would mean I’d have to move away from Ponyville and I can't leave them hanging like that.”

“I always thought you’d be the next team lead,” Spitfire offered, pausing to take a sip of her drink. “You had the skill at least.”

“I know my limits. I ain't a leader,” Rainbow Dash replied with a shrug. “I just don't have the sauce as Scoots likes to say.”

“Since when have you been so calm and collected?” Spitfire remarked.

“Honestly not until a few months ago,” Rainbow Dash admitted. “After my relationship status changed I had to really start really thinking long term ya know? Stop flying by the seat of my pants and make some real plans. Other than my long-term decision to simply win the lottery lottery and retire by forty. Which is rapidly approaching now that I’m thinking about it.”

“Hmmm,” Spitfire hummed, sipping at her drink.

“It's a matter of perspective as Twi would probably say,” Rainbow Dash added.

“That’s a fair way of putting things I suppose,” Spitfire declared. “Say. Do you need a place to stay tonight?”

“I mean not really. My parents still kept my old room the way it was,” Rainbow Dash began, leaning forward. “Unless you’re inviting me over for a sleepover.”

“Something like that,” Spitfire muttered.

“Is the ice queen finally melting?” Rainbow Dash prodded. “I thought you were one of those ponies who didn't need such… comforts.”

“We all have our needs,” Spitfire retorted. “I just have fewer needs than most and since you didn't actively attempt to get into my non-existent pants I’m actually more intrigued than I would be otherwise.”

“Well I’m glad to help you out for a night, but contrary to what you might think I ain't the one-night stand type a gal. Well, not anymore anyway,” Rainbow Dash replied.

“That's fair,” Spitfire murmured, the pony picking at the label on her empty beer bottle. “But surely you’ve felt something between us before.”

“Yeah like a decade ago,” Rainbow Dash exclaimed.

“Come now,” Spitfire began, leaning forward and taking Rainbow Dash’s hoof. “Surely that flame hasn't died completely. Even embers come back to life with the right touch after all.”

“That… that actually doesn't sound half bad,” Rainbow Dash remarked. “So what's the plan then? We grab a twelve, head back to your place and fuck like rabbits? Then never speak of it again.”

“All but that last part,” Spitfire replied. “I think I’d like it if this happened again. Provided you are as good as half of Ponyville says you are.”

“That reminds me. I’ve got enough kids on the way that I could theoretically start my own Wonderbolts competitor,” Rainbow Dash exclaimed. “Assuming over half end up Pegasi, or griffon.”

“Oooh now that would be amusing,” purred Spitfire. “Maybe I should contribute a rug rat or two to this theoretical team you’re building. They’ll need a strong leader after all.”

“I… really?” Rainbow Dash whispered, leaning in close. “You’d let me well ya know.”

“Cum inside me? Knock me up? Stuff my womb with enough baby batter to start a bakery? You betcha. If you are as good as they say,” Spitfire added with a smirk.

Something hard hit the underside of the table. A second later Rainbow Dash winced, her forehooves going under the table to grab at something between her back legs.

“Did you just get so hard your dick hit the bottom of this table?” Spitfire exclaimed in a mix of amusement and disbelief.

“Yes,” Rainbow Dash hissed.

“Damn, I knew you were hung what with all the showers we shared but holy shit you are one girthy girl,” Spitfire teased.

“This hurts so much,” Rainbow Dash murmured.

“That's probably all the diseases you're getting from the underside of this table,” Spitfire added, tapping the oak top in emphasis.

“Shut up and help me or I’m going home and masturbating into the toilet like I’m fifteen all over again,” Rainbow Dash croaked.

“Eh old timer, toss me a rag!” Spitfire shouted.

The bartender reached behind the counter.

“A clean one!” Spitfire interrupted.

The bartender paused and moved her hoof far to the right. A second later a rag slapped welty against the table.

Rainbow Dash muttered bitterly, but accepted the rag, using it briefly before tossing it into the closest garbage can.

“You good?” Spitfire asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Why don't you get the drinks? I’ll meet you at the door,” Rainbow Dash replied.

“You know you could just ask for a peak at the goods ya know. You’re going to be inside me in only a few short minutes,” Spitfire teased.

“Just go get the beer already. I really don't want to have to walk out of here with a stiffy,” Rainbow Dash whined.

“Nah. You know what, you’re coming with me,” Spitfire declared, grabbing Rainbow Dash and hauling her out of the booth. “I want everyone to know I’m taking you home with me.”

Rainbow Dash spat and sputtered, but quickly fell quiet when it became obvious that she wasn't about to escape the other mare’s grasp. She held on too tightly, leaving the speedster with little else to do but stand as proud as she was able to be while getting dragged through the bar. Everyone who paused and glanced their way inevitably glanced between her legs, as if Rainbow Dash’s cock had a strange magnetism to it.

Not like she could blame them, though their stares were not saved for her alone. More than a few of the ponies present at the pegasus bar stared enviously at Spitfire. The enigmatic leader of the Wonderbolts rarely seemed to grace the public with her presence. And now not only had she appeared in a bar, but she was leaving with a fellow bolt, the pair obviously intimate with one another.

They paused only briefly at the bar, with Spitfire overpaying for a twelve of whatever cider they had on hoof. Once payment was given, they walked over to the exit. There Spitfire paused and shot Rainbow Dash a wide smile.

“Ready for a little race?” She asked.

“Always,” Rainbow Dash replied.

“Good, but you gotta carry the cider,” Spitfire declared.

The Wonderbolt then shoved the box into Rainbow Dash’s hooves before taking off, a flaming trail following behind her.

“Heh, you’re on,” Rainbow Dash exclaimed, a wide smile crossing her face.

Author's Note

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