You finish tying your shoes and stand up to gather some things strewn about your small budget apartment. The most recent addition to the Wonderbolts had asked you to critique her form during her earlier than usual flight practice, and of course you’d agreed. Dash was trying to perfect a wingtip turn for the upcoming show, and from what she'd told you, she had quite a ways to go until she was ready.

From the perspective of a flightless alien you weren’t exactly sure how much technical input you could offer, or why she asked for your help for that matter. You have a habit of not sugarcoating things; perhaps that's the reason.

Or maybe it was because she thought you might’ve learned something from the hours you spent watching her fly. Ever since you became friends, you spectated her park airshow almost every day. Of course, it was more of a practice than an exhibition, but her ego loved the extra attention and you loved giving it to her. And when you threw in a soft field of grass on a typical temperate Equestrian afternoon, all your wants and worries floated away on a sea of relaxation. Needless to say you’d quickly developed a habit of joining the pegasus in her post-exercise naps.

The majority of your concern remained in your ability to spot errors. You could say that you never really paid attention to her flying, not in any way that would benefit her at least. Instead of looking for imperceptible timing errors or shaky bank angles, you enjoyed the spectacle for its artistic value. Apart from hard landings and the occasional collision with vegetation, all of her winged movements looked utterly amazing. Most pegasi would describe the type of flying Dash did as a mixture of strength and cardio exercises—a pretty intense workout, but you wouldn’t be able to tell by watching her. She had the raw strength to power through most maneuvers, but instead she chose to capitalize on her supreme knowledge of the sky and her own wings. Her flying looked as natural as walking, perhaps more so; and her toned body allowed her to conquer challenging aerobatics at the cost of little more than shortness of breath. In short; you’d have to struggle to find something wrong with the creature in her natural habitat.

You'd seen her nail down more difficult maneuvers in similar short order, so you were confident she'd be able to self-critique if your input wasn’t useful. All you have to do is make sure everything is…delegated? No…deliberate, that’s what she’d said. Hopefully she would give a more in depth explanation when you got there, one adjective was a bit hard to go off of. After all, mistakes can be deliberate too.

You make sure to grab your stopwatch before you leave your front door. She was especially concerned about the timing of her moves due to the whole team aspect. Constraining her flying to time hacks annoyed her, but it was a price gladly paid for the prestige of being a Wonderbolt.

The mid-morning air is warm on your lungs but cool on your skin. It keeps the glaring sun from making you sweat. Ponies and conversations traversed the main street that your apartment blended into, some soared overhead, all were on errands that demanded a leisurely but deliberate pace. Overall it was a very nice setting, something you’d always imagined would fit a society of ponies. But once you got over displays of magic and the fact that no one looked like you the novelty wore off. Some things never failed to spike your interest, but most of your entertainment centered on certain individuals that always knew a good way to pass the time.

One of which is currently waiting for you to stop daydreaming.

You break out into a jog, turning a few heads as you do. Most of the residents of the town were used to you by now, if anything they were more surprised by your seemingly unnecessary haste. But if good things come to those who wait, then good things must come faster to those who run.

You’re in much better shape than you were before, you might even go so far as to say you’re a bit of an athlete. Though Dash never prodded you about any lack of ability, the desire to eventually beat her in a race was all the motivation you needed to start working out. Having four legs gave her an advantage no human could ever match, but your conscience prevented you from backing down the painful journey of self-improvement. And after nearly a year of calisthenics and cardio you’d finally started to get some compliments. Flexing in front of the mirror became a thing, but you weren’t about to let up until you'd earned a compliment from the most athletic pony you know. Speaking of which...As you approach the park you spot her multicolored mane and azure wings pointed skyward in a stretch.

But she’s not alone. She’s having a conversation with an elderly green mare.

As you get closer you recognize the bogey as a young stallion, despite his hairstyle. You also recognize that it isn’t a conversation and he probably wasn’t invited.

Dash is in the middle of a yoga pose, but her nose is scrunched up and her features are crossed with a tired frown; she’s trying her best to ignore his bantering. She usually isn’t this annoyed by random chatter, there must be more going on than meets the eye. Just as you take stock of the situation she notices you.

A wave of relief washes over her face and manages to make the nose scrunch disappear. You smile and wave, but you lose her attention as she makes an awkward retreat from the stallion sticking his nose uncomfortably close to her face to emphasize some indistinguishable comment.

The closer you get, the more you feel some of Dash’s discomfort shift to you. Well, it doesn’t exactly shift, Dash still looks like a fish out of water, it more like copies and pastes itself onto you. You’re close enough to hear his swooning in detail now and Dash physically pushes him away after he gets too close a second time.

That’s it, you’ve seen enough.

“Hey Rainbow what’s up!” You manage in a chipper yet firm tone. Both sets of eyes snap towards you, but only the unknown pair looks surprised.

Rainbow takes advantage of the distraction and skitters over to you with the most grateful look you’ve seen from anyone before. She walks around you and peeks her head out from your opposite hip—as if using your legs to shield herself from the unwanted attention.

”Hey Anon! What took you so long?” You could see it in her eyes that her phrase carried more meaning than her words alluded. You were actually early but you weren’t about to throw her under the bus.

“Sorry, I had trouble finding my uh…clothes.” Your eyes shift from her to the stranger, then back to her.

The stallion bun decides to butt in, ”Excuse me, who is this?” He asks Dash while pointing to you.

“I’m Anon,” You reply bluntly. You can tell he's trying to be rude.

His eyes narrow on you, but you’re too busy trying to figure out what has Dash on the verge of laughter. Her smile is barely contained under her mirthful magenta eyes.

”Pffft really? You wear your clothes all the time doofus how’d ya loose ‘em?” The mare never failed to pass up an opportunity for humor.

While she was busy undermining your cover story, you were busy thinking of a way to make it more believable. You can’t change it now, you’ll just have to make it more complicated, add more backstory.

“I uhh, I don't know. I had to dig these up,” you tug on your shirt for emphasis, “I think I left my nice ones at your place.” The moment the careless words left your mouth you realized the weight they carried. Though ponies rarely wore clothes, the donning and removal of them for some reason still warranted privacy. The scene of a newly wed couple consummating their marriage at the end of a trail of ceremonial clothing formed the brunt of more than a few sex jokes and adult magazines. The intimate implication was so blatant that it didn't occur to anyone that you can't walk on clouds, not even yourself.

The rainbow pegasus stares up at you in surprise with her jaw slightly agape, the blonde one does the same. You become distinctly aware that the only reason you’re alive right now is because you have a witness. Her mind churns to find an explanation that would both sound realistic and preserve her reputation.

“Excuse me, Rainbow Dash, but is this some foreign friend of yours?” He sounds so venomous you could swear he has fangs.

“I’m a human. Name’s Anon.” You flippantly respond. You'd gotten used to this kind of treatment but that doesn't mean it can't annoy you.

”Well, since Rainbow Dash and I were enjoying a delightful conversation until you showed up, I must ask you to—”

”—He’s my colt friend.” You suddenly feel Dash’s hoof around your legs; you catch your breath and try to not show any surprise. The last thing you expected her to do was keep up the act. There were a dozen plausible reasons you would part with your attire and she chose the one thing that you’d be most uncomfortable with.

A glance down at Dash meets a nervous look up at you. If you backed out now you wouldn’t be the only one taking the fall.

You clear your throat, “Yeah…that too.” You complete the stab through his heart by resting your hand on the cradle of Dash’s wings, one of the more sensitive parts of pegasus anatomy.

Even with how well you knew each other, it was not a place you were typically allowed to touch her with the exception of occasional hugs. But considering the circumstances she was hardly in a position to call you out. Besides, it's payback for dragging you deeper down the rabbit hole. You feel her back muscles twitch under your touch, but she keeps a straight face and stares down the now completely deflated stallion in front of her.

”Y-you mean…y-you’re…”

”Together, yep. For the past, oh whaddaya say dude? Few months?”

"F-few months, yeah!"

She rolls her eyes at your flushed cheeks, ”Anon just came to take me out to lunch!”

You take a deep breath and control yourself. She's definitely making sure you pay for your little slip up. With the help of a wing flap, she rises on her hind legs and lays her forelegs across your shoulder. She came up to your stomach on all fours, and was slightly shorter than you on her hind legs. She had plenty of reach to plant a kiss on your cheek. Which she does.

She’d done that before. Pony culture normalized a level of affection that you’d initially found uncomfortable. Cheek kisses were one of the practices that signified a basic level of trust and companionship among friends, and you’d learned to appreciate them as such. You’d earned your first Dash kiss a month after you'd met, but you still feel like a flustered schoolboy.

She pushes off of your shoulder, ”Come on dude, let’s get there before rush hour! See ya around Zephyr.”

The poor stallion looked like a kid who just realized Santa wasn't real and his parents were getting divorced for Christmas. He plods off in the opposite direction and you turn your attention to far more pressing matters...like the fact that you can smell the redness on your face. You silently follow Dash into town and come down from a short adrenaline high you didn't know you had.

Once you’re well out of sight, Dash turns around with the biggest shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen.

”Hah! And you thought you could prank me! That worked out well for ya didn’t it?”

She thought it was a prank? You might get off easier than you thought.

“Heh…yeah, I guess that didn’t go as planned.” You scratch the back of your head as your blush begins to fade.

”You should’ve seen the look on your face! It was priceless!”

She’s laughing hysterically at your mixture of confusion and relief. She’d never let you live it down, but it beats getting murdered in the woods. Part of you was deeply intrigued by her behavior. In the year that you’d known her, she’d never once shown an interest in stallions, or mares for that matter. Seeing that side of her, if only for show, was…interesting. It was like finding a lost, unread page to a book you’d read a hundred times.

Her laughter finally dies down.

“Sorry about your practice Dash, I guess I kinda ruined your plans today.”

”Oh don’t worry about that dude! I can master that wingtip roll in a snap! But it’s not every day I can have a laugh like that!” Her smile shows that she thoroughly enjoyed ditching Zephyr as well as embarrassing you.

“Yeah I suppose…”

”So where are we headed?”

“…What?”

She stifles a chuckle with her hoof, ”You were just about to take me on a date remember?”

There's no reason to keep up the role-play now, Zephyr's long gone. You aren’t about to be a party pooper though, and you are hungry. You look over at her and see her mocking grin was replaced with a genuine smile: a smile that made you feel sincerely appreciated.

“Well…uh, I’ve always wanted to try Donut Palace III you know, it sounds…exotic.”

She gives you an incredulous look before smiling again and bumping her rump into your thigh, ”All right but you’re paying!”

Your friend’s happy expression prompts one of your own. Maybe you didn’t ruin the day after all.