Where there's Fire, there's Smoke

by NavyPony

Rating: teen
Tags: Wonderbolts, Spitfire, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Soarin
Length: 3676

Spitfire is a smoker, and it's a problem for some ponies, her subordinates included. Luckily, her trusty XO is always there to support her.

She's Spitfire - trick flier extraordinaire, commanding officer of the Wonderbolts, an Equestrian hero, and a role model for everypony that lays eyes upon her. For that reason, the fact that she smokes is something that the 'Bolts try to keep hidden - it protects her image, their image, and protects the youth of Equestria from her bad habit.
Because, as all of Equestria knows, smoking is bad.
Her secret remains contained within the Wonderbolts, to the point that many of their newest recruits don't even know about her habit until they join. So when they find out, well... they all have their own reactions.
And then there's her faithful executive officer, who hates her habit but is always there to back her up, in public or private. Because Soarin's her XO, and that's what an XO does.

This story is rated as 'Teen' due to the somewhat mature topics - particularly tobacco use.

Published 2013-06-10 06:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2013-10-29 05:48:38 UTC

Day One

Where there’s Fire, there’s Smoke.
by NavyPony

Day One

“Umm… excuse me, ma’am?” It was our newest member – his name was Lightning Streak, and he was one of the team’s up-and-coming hotshots. He’d finished the day’s routine ahead of most of the other full ‘Bolts, and he was probably just heading back to the locker rooms when he spotted me.

I was a hundred yards away from the entrance, and I had just lit up. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“Captain, you… you smoke? That’s really unhealthy, you know?”

He was one of those – I could see it in his eyes. He hoped that I didn’t know, because then he’d get to tell me all about how I was killing myself and everypony around me with my toxic habit. Surely, if I actually knew the dangers of smoking then I’d quit, and he could go home with the smug satisfaction of knowing he’d saved my life. It would be just like those corny anti-smoking ads we do, where all you have to do is tell somepony that smoking’s unhealthy and they’re struck with some sort of life-changing epiphany.

I took all that away from him. “Yeah, I know. So what?”

The look on his face was priceless. “B-But… why?” he stuttered, taken aback. “You should quit. It’s dangerous, both for you and others, and it increases the likelihood of-”

“I said I knew, Lightning. Is there anything else?”

“But… if you knew, you wouldn’t be a smoker.”

“Actually, knowing makes me an informed smoker.” I took a long drag from my cigarette. “But still a smoker.”

“But that’s…” He was struggling to find a way of calling me stupid without actually doing so, and I couldn’t really blame him for either side of the conundrum. Sure, smoking’s dumb, but calling me dumb… most ponies figured it bad form to call your boss stupid to her face. “That doesn’t make sense,” he eventually declared. “You really ought to quit. Smoking kills.”

It’d been a long day, what with interviewing potentials and all, and I really didn’t feel like getting into a debate. “The only thing smoking kills is time.” It was the kind of assertion that bewildered the hay out of ponies who’d never heard it before, and Lightning was no exception. “Now, do you have anything else, or are you going to let me kill myself in peace?”

His eyes became the size of dinner plates and his jaw practically hit the ground. “N-n-no, ma’am. No. I…” He sped off, apparently intimidated at my dark tone, and took towards the locker rooms.

I ashed my cigarette and smirked. Being Captain of the Wonderbolts isn’t always the most wonderful thing in Equestria, but there are some perks. A lot of perks, actually, and not least amongst them is the prospect of jerking around the newbies. Most of the team knows that they can talk to me like they talk to anypony else, and that’s just the way I want it, but it’s occasionally fun to scare the feathers out of the newer members. Sure, sure, it’s a rotten thing to do, but I’ve never claimed to be perfect.

I watched the next couple of ‘Bolts finish up the day’s regimen and head to the locker rooms. A few of them swung by to get my input and advice, but most didn’t bother. The team was in pretty good form altogether, although Surprise had been goofing off and Fleetfoot was getting cocky. I gave each of them a piece of my mind (separately, of course), and sent them off to shower and change.

I was just taking the last few pulls off my cig when my XO showed up, led towards me by a very worried-looking Lightning Streak. “See!” the younger pony declared, thrusting an accusatory hoof towards me. “It’s like I said!”

“This…” Soarin rolled his eyes at me but directed his words towards the younger pegasus. “Hey Light, why don’t you head back and shower up, and I’ll… huh… I’ll speak to the Cap’ about all this, ‘aight?” He had to wave a hoof at the other stallion when nothing happened. “Seriously, man, you’re done here; head out. We can talk about this tomorrow.”

Lightning Streak could tell when he was being shut down, so to speak, and he didn’t like it. Such was the nature of hotshots – they thought they knew everything. “But sir, she-”

This time it was my turn to do an eye-roll, but Soarin was good enough to say my bit so that I didn’t have to – he really was a great executive officer. “I know, and you did the right thing. I’m not mad at you and you’re not going to be punished, we just have to talk about this.” The subtle way he emphasized the word ‘we’ made it clear that he was referring to me and him alone, but Lighting was far too green to tell. “In the meantime, you should go home and try not to worry.”

“But-”

Soarin interrupted. It would’ve perfectly normal for him, except that he used his ‘authoritative voice’, as he called it, which he absolutely hated doing. “Second Lieutenant Streak, go home and try not to worry.”

“…Yessir,” Streak said with the reluctant but subservient tone of a pony who’d never faced real punishment. He saluted and turned tail. “Have a good day, sir.”

Soarin watched the younger stallion until Streak had gone back inside and there was nopony else around; then he turned to me. “So, I was churnin’ through the paperwork for that show next week, and you’ll never guess what poor li’l Light comes running to me about,” he said, his tone exactly as irate as propriety allowed. “He’s telling me that you’re suicidal, and he doesn’t know who else he can go to.”

It should’ve been ‘whom else’, but whether that was a facet of my XO’s account or the actual words Streak used, it was impossible to tell. Not that it really mattered – it was only grammar, after all. Whatever the case, the situation was funny enough to merit a dark chuckle. “Hmmph. Well, I don’t think I’m suicidal, but that probably doesn’t say much. I mean, if I were planning on killing myself I’d probably lie about it to the folks who’d try to stop me.” The smirk came unbidden to my face. “What do you think, Soarin? Am I searching for the sweet, sweet release of death?”

To his infinite credit, Soarin actually laughed aloud, and he was a pony entirely unable to be disingenuous. To the opposite end, however, his answer pushed the bounds of propriety rather further than most ponies were willing to take them with me. “No more than me, Spits, but I don’t see anypony coming to you about my issues.”

I considered bringing up that incident, but I thought better of it before my mouth started moving. He was in a program now, after all, and he’d been sober for eight, almost nine months straight. Besides, this conversation was about me, not him. “I suppose you’re right,” I admitted, grinding out my cigarette in the pocket ashtray I normally kept with me. “Do you want to say your piece?”

“Nah.” He shrugged, feigning apathy as best he could. “You’re free to do what you want.” Soarin and I had discussed this issue many, many, times in the past, and we both knew that there was no point to adding another argument to our score. “But you know… I’d appreciate it if you were less… extreme with the new members. Most of them are just out of school, and none of them know you well enough to recognize when you’re joking.” Soarin scoffed, although he was careful not to target his derision at me. “Lightning’s going to be watching you like crazy from now on, you know, and even if he doesn’t talk to the rest of the team, me and Chaps are going to be seeing him again.”

“Tch.” I stuffed the cigarette butt into my ashtray and slid the ashtray back into a pocket on my flightsuit. “He should talk to the rest of the team; they’ll tell him what for, and that’ll be that.”

“He could go to the recruits.” Soarin was referring to the ponies that weren’t full Wonderbolts – provisionals and prospectives who had yet to prove themselves both capable and trustworthy. “And at that point it’ll hit the media faster than a unicorn in a library, you know.”

I did know, but I also knew that talking to the recruits was something the colt wouldn’t do. “Not a chance in hay. It’d be too close to frat in his mind, and Streak’s too much of a goody four shoes to risk that kind of mark.” If I’d thought anypony else could see us, I might’ve refrained from rolling my eyes. “No, the most he’ll do is write his mom about how worried he is about his CO, because I’m so cavalier about my well-being despite being a national asset and vital to Equestria’s well-being.”

“Somepony’s feeling extra-full of herself today,” Soarin snarked. “I suppose the Princess finally responded to your request?”

“I’m too important to retire, apparently, although it was put a lot more eloquently than that.” The memory was enough to make me pull my pack of cigarettes back from my flightsuit’s pocket and grab a fresh one, fresh being a relative term.

My XO gave me the king of dirty looks as I lit up, but his tone never reflected it. “Are you really surprised? She thinks the world of you.”

“Sure, but it doesn’t mean I’m happy about it,” I acknowledged with a shrug. “You know, when my oath said that I served at Her pleasure, I don’t think I actually realized what that meant.”

“The ‘Her pleasure’ part, or the ‘service’ part?”

I started laughing, only to have it quickly devolve into a bout of labored coughing. Ignoring the scowl which appeared on Soarin’s face in response to my coughing, I managed to recover and admit, “Both, you know.”

The scowl I got “Nopony knows what they’re getting into when they sign up.” Soarin punctuated his words with a snort, and one far more genial than mine would have been. “It’s just the nature of the beast.”

“Yeah.” I turned half my cigarette to ash in one drag, and almost immediately regretted it. It just wasn’t an efficient way to smoke, and the things were getting more expensive every year. “Still.”

I guess he knew what I meant, because Soarin just sat on his haunches and echoed my words back at me. “Yeah. Still.” We stayed like that while I finished my second cigarette – he staring out into the distance and myself puffing away at the filter. There was nothing else that needed much saying between us, I suppose.

When I finally gave up on cigarette number two, the only ‘Bolts left in the air were done with the day’s regimen and the day was getting later than most of us enjoyed. I ashed the cig, stuffed it in my ashtray with its sister, and turned tail.

“Have a good evening, Spits.”

“You too, Soarin. See you tomorrow.”

Day Four

Where there’s Fire, there’s Smoke.
by NavyPony

Day Four

“Good afternoon, ma’am! I hope you’re having a great day!?” High Winds’ eternal enthusiasm might’ve been an asset on the training field, but it was grating just about everywhere else. My smoke pit was no exception. “I think it’s beautiful!”

Still, it wasn’t appropriate for me to dislike her just because she was so painfully happy all the time. “Sure. I’ve had worse days.” My answer made the mare’s smile flutter ambiguously for a couple seconds until it levelled out at a slightly toned-down level. Thank goodness. “And what about you, Winds? You’re on Echo Track this week, right? How’s it treating you?”

“It’s great! A little difficult, of course, but I enjoy the challenge!” Then with all the subtlety and tact of a first-class entertainer, the filly changed the subject completely. “Are you smoking again?”

With intentional, dramatic slowness, I pulled my cigarette from between my teeth and gave it a long stare, as if trying to decide whether or not it counted as smoking. As if it wasn’t obvious. “I suppose so.” I put the cig back in my mouth and took a short drag before raising an accusative eyebrow and adding, “Why?”

Her eyes darted back and forth between the cig and my face before responding with the last thing I would’ve ever expected a young pony to ask me. “Can I have one?”

I put my eyebrow back down, thought about it for a moment, and shrugged. “Sure, I guess.” I fished the pack from my flightsuit’s pocket and tossed it in her direction.

For her part, she fumbled with the packet for a bit and slid out a cigarette. After giving the thing a once over and deciding which end to put in her mouth (she got that part correct) Winds just stood there looking stupid while I refrained from laughing. In her defense, I was being less than generous. “Umm, got a light?”

I did, of course, and I pulled out my lighter as she leaned towards me. “So,” I started, lighting up what I very much suspected was her first cigarette, “I didn’t know you smoked.” My suspicions were more or less confirmed when she took one puff and devolved into a desperate coughing fit. “You alright?”

I didn’t think she heard me, at first, but she responded almost as soon as she regained control of her lungs. “Umm, yeah, ma’am. Ahem. I mean yes. I’m fine, ma’am.”

That eyebrow went right back up. “Really? Because you sound a little bit un… un…” My degree was in aerospace engineering, which I have always maintained is a perfectly rational excuse for having the occasional trouble finding the right word. “Un…”

“Unaccustomed? Uninured? Unhabituated?” High Winds’ degree was nowhere near as useful as my B.S. in aeronautical physics, as evidenced by the fact that she knew however many synonyms for the word I wanted. And not just big ones. “Unused to?”

I scowled a little bit, just enough to remind her that I was still her CO. “Exactly.”

The ‘scary officer’ routine still worked, apparently, and much better than it used to, judging from the way her eyes went wider than dinner plates. Making rank will do that. “Umm, yes ma’am. Ahem, sorry ma’am.”

“But really.” I tried to make it clear from my tone of voice that I was less upset than she seemed to think I was. “I never figured you for a smoker.”

She grimaced apologetically and tried taking another drag. The ensuing coughing fit took slightly less time than the first one. “Well…”

No doubt in the slightest – definitely her first cigarette. “Meh.” I shrugged my shoulders in my best imitation of a colonel. It was funny because I was a colonel. “I suppose we all have to start somewhere – I suppose this is as good a place as -” a stray thought struck me. “Remind me again how old you are, Winds?” It was a rare occurrence, but occasionally there was the rare ‘Bolt that got accepted before she was of age. “I’m not enabling underage drug use, am I?”

“What? Ahahaha!” I think she interpreted my question as a joke, because she didn’t recoil the way a straight-laced junior officer like Winds would have otherwise. “No ma’am, of course not, I wouldn’t!” The way she laughed was refreshing, like she was still an aspiring highschool hopeful. I guess it was evidence that she’d spent so little time in the service – elsewise she’d simply roll her eyes. Or kiss up, me being her CO and all. “I just, I never really had the chance.”

My eyebrows really weren’t getting a rest today. “But you want to? Did all the…” I waved the hoof holding my cigarette in a vaguely evocative fashion, “the brainwashing not take hold?”

“Uhh, brainwashing?”

I nodded as sagely as possible. “Brainwashing. The whole ‘Smoking’s bad. Smoking’s dangerous. Smoking will kill you. Don’t smoke,’ and all of that?” Not that I disagreed with much of it, but that didn’t keep it from being brainwashing. “It’s not as if most ponies can get through the school system without a mostly rational hatred of smoking.” I neglected to mention the fact that this hatred tended to extend to smokers as well. “I suppose you somehow slipped through the cracks?”

She couldn’t answer at first, on account of coughing up a storm. “Ugh, ech. Ahem. I guess so, ma’am. I mean, open mind and all that, right?”

“Hm. And how’s that working out for you right now? What gave you the urge to try?” I exhaled in her direction, sending a puff of smoke her way just as she started to recover from her coughing fit. It was immature as hell, but watching her continue to gasp was rather humorous.

“I…” She floundered, looking back and forth between me and the cigarette she’d just pulled from her lips. “It’s… ahem, a new experience?” It was like she was asking if that was the correct answer.

“I’ve never brushed my teeth with turpentine, you know.” I have a spectacular deadpan delivery when I try.

Her brow clenched in bewilderment. “Ma’am?”

“I’ve never brushed me teeth with turpentine, I said.” Winds must have been less sharp than I’d taken her for – she just stared at me with that puzzled expression while I took another drag on my cigarette. “I’m saying that it would be a new experience. But that doesn’t mean it’d be a good one, and I don’t intend to try doing it. You see?”

“I… I think so.”

“So…” I paused to give her a chance she didn’t take. Nope, definitely not as bright as I’d given her credit for, else I wouldn’t have to ask the upcoming question. “Why did you want to try smoking?” She opened her mouth, only to have her eyes bug out and her words freeze in her throat. Which probably meant – yep, I could feel the breeze being pushed in as another pegasus glided down behind me. There were only two ponies about who should’ve been able to make Winds freeze the way she did, and being that I was one of them, the process of elimination only left one stallion. “Soarin.” I greeted him without bothering to turn around.

“Good afternoon, ma’am, and uh…” Either my ears were deceiving me or Soarin was speechless and I could literally hear him blinking behind me. I turned around to check. Yup, definitely speechless, although he ever-so-slowly turned his neck to stare at me, and there were a lot of expletives in that look.

But him being my XO – and a good one at that – he didn’t say anything while one of our subordinates was around. “Miss Winds,” he uttered, finally discovering his voice, “I wasn’t aware that you smoked.”

She looked at Soarin, down at her cig, over to me, and back to Soarin, her eyes maintain that hint of panic throughout. Then she did it again. “Umm… maybe?” she finally admitted, sounding unsure of herself. “That is, I’m thinking about starting…”

“Very well, Winds.” Even knowing Soarin the way I did (or perhaps because of that), I was relatively surprised at how calm he seemed upon hearing this. Knowing him the way I did, however, it was obvious that his composure was all external. “Can I make a recommendation?”

“Umm, yessir?”

“Quit.”

The young mare gulped quietly and slid her eyes in my direction; I supposed she was looking for me to back her up or something, but I just shrugged my shoulders and ashed my cigarette. “Don’t look at me,” I finally muttered with the thing in my mouth, “I think you have the right to kill yourself however you want.” That brought a scowl to my Executive Officer’s face, and yet another nervous gulp from Winds. “As long as it’s not illegal, of course – don’t disgrace the ‘Bolts by doing something that makes us look bad.”

Soarin just turned to look at me. His expression remained neutral, but I could practically see him suppressing an angry glare.

~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~

“That could’ve gone better,” my XO said with an only slightly dark tone.

I shrugged nonchalantly. “It could’ve gone worse, too.”

“Only because she didn’t run away to Chaps once you started talking about killing yourself. You know, Lightning Streak came to talk to me again today.”

I lit another cigarette, only to be struck by a painful coughing fit when I took the first puff – low quality cigs. I eventually composed myself enough to form a complete sentence. Well, complete syllable, at least. “Oh?”

Soarin didn’t look at me, instead choosing to mutter towards the now-empty practice track. “He wanted to talk about your ‘suicidal tendencies’ – his words, not mine.”

“It did strike me that he wasn’t the type to let go of me smoking very easily. What did you say?”

“I told him that he shouldn’t concern himself over your habits.”

The very political way he worded his response gave me a little chuckle, but only because it was so atypical for Soarin. “You didn’t refute him. Ha!” I would have devolved into laughter, but a tiny fleck of something lodged in my throat, and it turned into coughing instead.

Soarin sighed, and suddenly looked much older than he had a few minutes ago. “I think you should quit.”

I took a couple deep breaths as I recovered from my coughing fit. “I like smoking.”

And that was where our conversation ended. Soarin said nothing else until I finished my cigarette, stowed the stub in my little ashtray, and headed towards the locker rooms.

“Have a good evening, ma’am.”

“You too, Soarin. See you tomorrow.”