Endings.

Sometimes they’re tragic, sometimes they’re good, and sometimes, they’re bittersweet.

I honestly don’t know what category this one falls under, but it’s certainly not bad. Personally, I don’t think it’s so much an ending as it is a change in perspective — a shift of priorities. Yes, my career as a professional flier is over, but that doesn’t mean I’ve lost my ambitions; they’ve merely… realigned themselves, settling upon the one thing I never thought I’d care to find for a good, long while yet, if ever.

Love.

I, Fleetfoot, former Senior Airpony and third in command of the Wonderbolts, have found a special somepony — somepony who loves me and whom I love. And he isn’t even a pony. And I left my life in the spotlight behind just so we could be alone together. And it’s sappy and sentimental and everything you’re not supposed to like too much for reasons you’ll never fully understand.

But I’m okay with that.

No, I’m more than okay.

I’m ecstatic.

“Thank you so much for this, guys,” I exclaim, hugging Spitfire and Soarin at once, and holding them tight against me as I beam a flattered grin at the rest of the assembled team; Rainbow, Thunderlane, Surprise, Sun Chaser, the Streak twins, Raindrops, Wave Chill, Misty Fly, Silver Zoom and several others, as well as my once and future replacement, Hurricane. “All of you.”

“Hey, don’t sweat it, “ Spitfire soothes, wrapping a foreleg around my back and squeezing in turn. “We’re family, aren’t we? We’d do anything for you, and that includes helping you move house.”

“Yeah,” Soarin agrees, doing the same. “Trust us, Fleety, it ain’t nothing but a thang.”

“Oh, but it’s more than that.” I give them both another squeeze before letting go and stepping back. “So much more. Thank you for everything, all of you — everything you’ve done for me. For us. It’s just… Thank you.”

“And you’re welcome.” He bobbed his head in a brief bow. “And are you sure that’s everything? Because if we have to cross the Appleacheans again…”

Rainbow, standing with the other Bolts — and a Bolt-to-be — seems to grow a little fidgety on her hooves at the remark. Typical, but I can’t really blame her; those mountains are notorious for their unpredictable weather patterns, frequently labelled as one of the last true untamed regions on the continent. Evading and outpacing the storms was hard enough, but doing so while carrying the furniture from Cloudsdale was on a whole other level. Only the world’s best fliers could do it without the assistance of a moving company, and thankfully, I had just the ponies for the job. Free of charge too.

“Well, I know everything I’m keeping arrived on time and without a scratch,” I reply, almost with a sense of finality to it, as if I were about to shoo them off before the sun completely set on the cliff’s peak behind the house. But it isn’t time yet, and I peer over my shoulder to see Philip standing by the entrance, hands on his hips. “What about yours?”

“Mine?” he queries, switching focus to me from sweeping his gaze across the small crowd. And then he seems to only just understand and glances over his shoulder and through the open doorway. “Uh, yeah, I… I think it’s all good. Heck, we didn’t even lose a single plate from the dining set.”

“As if you doubted me in the first place!” Thunder counters.

“Well, excuse me if I’m not in the business of trusting shady characters!”

I quirk an eyebrow, confused.

Collectively, judging by Philip’s falling expression, so does the rest of the team. “No one?”

The silence stretches on.

“Well, you know, because of his coat,” he says, gesturing to Thunderlane. “Because he’s…”

And then, it’s as if something gives him a solid whack upside the head with how fast he shuts his mouth and widens his eyes, slapped with a thought he doesn’t seem too keen on sharing.

“Nope.” He shakes his head and shuffles back half a step, waving his arms as if to bar entry. “Never mind. I just realised how horrible that sounds, and I am not finishing that sentence. Just pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“…Right.” I slowly return to Spitfire and Soarin, no less enlightened. “So, yeah, nothing else. We’re good here. And I know I said this before, but… thanks. This means a lot to me.”

“And again, you’re welcome.” Spitfire bobbed her head like Soarin had, then smirked and nodded to him. “And thank you, for giving this big, dumb, pie-eating lug the courage to finally stand on his own four hooves and ask me out.”

“Hey!” he exclaims, snapping to her. “I don’t just eat pie.”

She rolls her eyes and nudges him with a wing, chuckling. “Figures that’d be what gets you upset.”

“Well, I mean, it takes a special kind of stupid to think that I’m anywhere on your level.”

“True that, Soarin. True that.”

I watch them for a moment, relishing the fact that, for once, it isn’t me who’s bantering with their potential significant other. And surprisingly, it makes my chest feel a little warm and fuzzy to see them embracing another side of themselves — seeking, perhaps, what I’ve already found. “So, is that picnic set, or have you decided on something a bit more fancy?”

“Nah,” Spitfire says with a small, dismissive wave of her wing, “a picnic is fine; quiet, simple, out of the way of the press. And if he cooks as well as he flies, then we should be right as rain.”

“I never really understood that phrase,” he ponders aloud.

“And if you try to understand it, of all people, you’re going to fry your circuits before too long.”

“O ye of little faith.”

She gently headbutts him on the cheek.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” He chuckles, then looks to me again. “Anyway, yeah, we’re sorry to see you go, Fleetfoot, but if this is what makes you happy, then we’re glad for you. And know that you’ll always have a place at our table whenever there’s a reunion going on. You’re too good not to stay in touch with.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I nod. “And good luck, both of you. I hope it all goes well.”

“So do I.”

Spitfire rolls her eyes.

I catch an impulsive snort before it escapes, then quickly glance away to distract myself, and find my attention drawn to a small entourage of four guards standing off to the left — three in gold armour, in one black — watching with idle interest. I vaguely remember the newcomer, and after the small number of largely impressionable encounters we’ve had, and even though I’ve seen her earlier today, I’m still surprised to see her on her best behaviour.

Then again, Able had given Philip and I what might’ve been the most useful dating advice we could ever have hoped for, and he was a socially inept workaholic. Nevertheless, he, too, found a special somepony despite the odds, or so it has been said.

That snort I’d been keeping in lets itself loose as I realise how effortlessly that description fits me. Life can be ironic, and sometimes irony can be funny. And I suppose it’s about time that I stop letting these two hog all the attention, not that I don’t appreciate them.

“Sorry, but… I should probably say goodbye to everypony else as well.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Spitfire says with a nonchalant wave of her wing, “don’t let us hold you back on our account. We ought to give Philip our blessing anyway.”

I switch my focus back to her with an eyebrow quirked. “Your blessing?”

“As friends and former commanding officers. You know, because we can’t let him get away with stealing you from us so easily.”

“Great,” I groan as I roll my eyes, turning toward the guards and strolling in their direction, “as if I didn’t have enough parental figures in my life.”

“And don’t you forget it!” Soarin calls, sporting an idiotic grin, then walks with Spitfire to Philip, who’s still trying to get over whatever slight he thought he was about to say, sagging his head and nursing his temples.

A sensitive lad. That’s not bad. He’s a little prone to overthinking things, but so am I, and he puts up with my antics with more tolerance than I feel I’m sometimes worth. A simple fact, and one that I shouldn’t be so readily swayed by… but it makes me glad that I know what I’m getting into, and who I’ll be joined by: somepony who trusts me, and whom I trust. Anything else is just a bonus.

I let a quiet breath go and refocus on the guards I’m approaching.

Ironside appears the most stalwart, naturally, a small, contented smile upon his muzzle as he switches from watching over the rest of the assembled crowd to me. Phalanx seems to be more or less distracting himself by trying to chat it up with Stella — the very same who stood in for him so many months ago. She nods in turn and offers a few words here and there, but it’s clear to me that she’d rather focus on the job than talk, and for once in her life isn’t keen on stating it outright and with far more cursing than one might think equinely possible.

Brave, on the other hoof, stands on the group’s far left, and for as well as she holds herself, I notice that there’s a slight slump in her posture — her neck a little slack, ears marginally lower than they should be. She also stares at the ground more than a sentry should, which is a big no-no even among Royal Guard applicants, let alone a fully-fledged member.

“So, this is it,” Ironside announces before I can say anything. “One final farewell, and then we’re out of your hair for good.”

“Looks that way,” I agree, coming to a halt in front of all four of them. “And you seem rather chipper about it. Happy to be going home, finally?”

“Yes and no. Yes, it’ll be nice seeing my husband again, but…” he looks up and sighs, scanning the front yard once more, “it feels like I’m trading one family for another.”

“Aw, ain’t ye just the sweetest.” Stella beams a toothy smirk and bumps his armoured flank with her own. “Ya almost make me wish I’d been here fer longer.”

“And why are you here, by the way?” I query, cocking my head and raising an eyebrow. “No offence.”

She shrugs. “Well, since the Big Four are conveniently doing that diplomatic publicity stunt up in Canterlot, drawin’ attention away from what’s happening down here, Luna thought it’d be nice tae send a missive in her stead — a show of support, she said. Luckily fer you tards, my schedule was as wide open as yer mum’s gob on her weddin’ night.”

“Charming,” Ironside remarks, severely unimpressed. “Though it’s not like you could really refuse.”

She shrugs again. “I do what I’m told and I do it well,” she quips, flippantly tossing her mane over her shoulder. “And besides, I already held a spot in this team, so think of it as a way of checkin’ in on old friends. Somepony’s gotta make sure you dickblisters haven’t killed each other yet.”

“And you haven’t changed a bit.”

She snorts and squints at him. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Not bad. Merely an observation.”

In the pause that follows, I find the opportunity to clear my throat. “Well, it’s good to see you again.”

Stella offers a fond, if lopsided smile. “Cheers, lass. You too. You were always one of the good ones, mate.” She then gestures to the other guards with barely playful condescension. “Unlike these stuck-up jackasses.”

“At least she’s a little more presentable,” Phalanx mumbles. “One might even deign to say pretty.”

Stella levels a sideways glance at him, then smirks hungrily. “Pretty, huh?” she purrs. “Keep flatterin’ me like that maaaaaybeee I’ll sit on yer face. But you’d like that, wouldn’t ya?”

Phalanx snaps to her and blinks with widening eyes, jaw dropping and ears flattening as he stumbles back a step. “I…!” he utters before soon drifting off. His white coat makes the faint beginnings of a blush all the more evident. “No…”

I quirk an eyebrow and furrow the other, somewhat unsettled, then and shift my attention to the right — to Brave. “And what about you? You don’t seem too happy about this.”

“I’m not.”

My brows crease and I blink again.

Ironside, Stella and Phalanx look down the line toward her too.

Brave finally seems to take notice of how straightforward she’d sounded and how many pairs of eyes were on her, and then appears to do some mental backtracking. “Well, I mean… I’m glad that you’re happy, and you’re doing what you want, and you know that doing what you want is going to make you happy, but… it’s just a shame when good things come to an end. You know?”

“Ah.” I nod. “So, it isn’t because you’ve grown attached?”

“Well,” she mumbles, glancing away, “I guess there’s that…”

“Oh, I think she’s grown a little more than attached.” Ironside cocks an eyebrow and gives her a small, rare but undeniably shrewd smirk. “I’d even hazard a guess and say she’s rather fond of him.”

“As a friend,” she insists, her features hardening a tad. “A friend who I’m happy for and wish I could spend more time around. It’s just unfortunate that our profession doesn’t allow for as much free time as others’ do, which means that if we want to meet up sometime, it’d be a once in a blue moon sort of thing. Not ideal.”

Ironside maintains a smug air about him, unconvinced.

Neither is Stella, neither is Phalanx.

Nor am I.

Scrunching up her snout in a pout like a filly caught with her hoof in the cookie jar, she sighs through her nose and looks away once more. “Besides, if I had feelings for him, it’s not like I’d act on them without your permission. I’m not my ex, that piece of…”

“My permission,” I echo, nodding thoughtfully. “I’ll have to get back to you on that, Brave. I think you’d have to worry about his opinion more than mine. Courting one pony was hazardous enough, after all.”

She pauses, staring at me for a moment, then bashfully chuckles, shifting her weight on her hooves. “Yeah, well… if you manage to convince him to go on a pity date with me, I… guess I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“There it is,” Phalanx declares. “Ladies and gents, we have admission.”

“Shut up,” Brave shoots back, but it’s a toothless response — limp and purposely weak-willed, because she knows everything here is being said in jest. “Can you blame me for maybe kinda-sorta wanting a piece of the action, if she’s found a good one?”

Stella hums, a less-than-dignified daydream written all over her face. “I wouldn’t mind a piece of that action m’self.”

“Oh, sure, because you’re totally after a legit relationship, aren’t you?”

“Well then, it’s a good thing ya don’t know jack composted shite about me, Brave. I’ll have you know I love me some lovey-dovey froufrou relationship… stuff.”

Brave watches her with narrowed eyes, then swings back to me with a genuine smile. “We’ll be fine, I think. Just make sure you both write to us when you can, alright?”

“Sure thing.”

“And please, take care of yourselves.”

“We will.”

“And if you ever need someone bushwhacked, you know who to call.”

I hesitate, blinking. “Uh…”

“I’m kidding!” She lunges forward and wraps me up in a tight, firm, almost spine-crushing hug — unsurprising from an earth pony in the military, but that doesn’t keep the air from escaping me. “Thanks for having me here, Fleetybee. For having all of us here.”

Unable to talk effectively, I merely settle for giving her a gentle pat on the shoulder.

The hug lasts a few seconds more, and then she lets me go, returning to all fours and backing up into her original position at the leftmost end of the line. “It’s been a pleasure.”

I grip my barrel with a foreleg and nurse my aching ribs, restraining a pained grimace to a simple wince. “Yep. I can definitely feel the love.”

Ironside salutes. “It’s been an honour.”

Phalanx does the same. “It’s been an experience.”

Stella looks straight ahead with an unamused expression. “Well, that’s just bloody perfect, innit? Now I’m the odd one out.”

I snort. “When weren’t you?”

“Oi, piss off, lassie! I’m a ray of goddamn sunshine! But, eh, touché.” She refocusses on me, smirking. “Enjoy yer remaining years, Fleetfoot. And Luna sends her regards. Also said to ask whether Philip likes the birthday present she got him — she never heard back.”

“Oh.” I peer over my shoulder for a moment and see that Spitfire and Spoarin appear just about done with him, and are slowly making their way to the rest of the Wonderbolts. “Well, uh… I’ll have to ask him about that, actually. But tell her yes, anyway, and I’ll get him to write a letter for her when he’s writing to these three. We could add a fifth for your sake, if you’d like.”

Stella waved her hoof dismissively. “Nah, I’m good, mate. Wasn’t exactly a huge part here anyway. And besides, I’ve already got me eye on someone back home in Canterlot.” She jabs a hoof against Phalanx’s armoured shoulder, her teasing tone returning full-force. “Not that this… delicious hunk of solid meat is helpin’ make me mind up.”

Although it forces him to stumble somewhat, Phalanx seems more taken aback by her attitude than her punch, quickly sharing his stunned expression not only with her, but the other guards and myself as well. “Am I the only one getting mixed signals here?”

“That’s the whole damn point, mate!” She leans in with an almost predatory grin, her helmet and snout nearly pressing against his own. “It keeps them… guessing.”

“Okay!” I interrupt with a soft stomp. “I’ll, uh… just leave you lot to sort out whatever unresolved tension is going on here and… see how our new neighbours are doing. I’m sure there’s less of… this… over there.”

Ironside smiles and bows his head. "For your sake, yes, I believe that’s a very wise decision.”

“Good.” I turn and begin to trot away, bemused, bewildered smile of my own across my muzzle. “Very good.”

The grass is soft beneath my hooves and could do with a trim. Being a coastal settlement, the soil isn’t fertile enough for any large vegetation, but I wouldn’t mind putting in the effort to plant a colourful array of flowers here and there, just to spruce the place up some more. Not being required to attend any practice, I’ll have a lot of spare time on my hands, even when I undoubtedly land that job in Baltimare’s local weather management team; as if they’d refuse a former Wonderbolt.

I’m not proud to admit it, but fame can sometimes be a very useful thing.

I cross the footpath leading to the house, and pass by Philip, closing my eyes for a moment as I slow my pace to a walk and rub myself against him. The sensation of him bowing forward to smell and kiss my mane, scratch my neck and behind my ear tempts me to stay and relish his company further, but I won’t be so easily swayed. There’ll be plenty of time for that later, when everypony has left, and I won’t have to worry about what they think, not that they’d have a problem with anything we’d do.

With a warmth bubbling up in my barrel and the heartening vapours swirling about in my head, I continue over to the picket fence, and the stallion and the gryphon on the opposite side. She’s nibbling at the base of his ear, and his expression is as rapt and dreamy as I’ve known Philip to get — plenty enough times that I can recognise it in others.

At least I’m not the bearer of bad news, merely the breaker of spells.

“Well, we made it,” I announce. “Safe and sound, turning over a new leaf. And I pretty much have you two to thank.”

“Her more than me,” Rhythmic corrects, though he still seems firmly entrenched in the attention Gytha is giving him, practically on the brink of lifting his hindleg and scratching at himself like dogs do. I think I saw Philip do that to Brave once, actually, before she realised what was happening and quickly got control of herself. “Oh, honey, just… just a bit to the left.”

Gytha warbles in a birdlike manner.

“Stars above…” His eyes flutter shut as he shudders. “Hushpuppy, you know how much I love…”

I giggle, covering a newer and more sincere smile with a hoof. “Am I interrupting something?”

Gytha pauses, then pulls away, but not before nuzzling herself underneath his chin and pressing her body against his, intertwining their tails. “Nothing that can’t wait, I suppose. Just sharing a moment.”

“No kidding.”

“What can I say?” she absently queries, giving him a quick — but not literal — peck on the cheek. “He says the cutest things when you butter him up just right.”

“Only because you make the most adorable noises.”

She narrows her eyes at him and, like so many other ponies today, smirks with a sly, smug air about her, eases her beak a little closer to his ear, and purrs while squinting knowingly at me: “Well, I could make others later tonight.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” I exclaim to myself, burying my face into a waiting foreleg. “I jump from one frying pan directly into another.”

“Such is life, Miss Fleetfoot.” Gytha chuckles, her expression markedly less devious and far more sincere — back to her original state. “All we can do is hope the next chapter isn’t worse than the last. But if you want my honest opinion… I think this is the start of something good. For both of you. And remember, if you have any questions about married life, we’re more than happy to answer.”

I return to her and blink, processing what she’d just said. “We’re not married.”

“We know, or else it would’ve been all over the tabloids,” Rhythmic replies, no doubt thankful for the change in topic. “But you may as well be. I mean, not to say that you should be, but… well, you two seem pretty sure of yourselves, so…”

I linger on him, considering his words, and perhaps giving them more thought than part of me is comfortable with. And then I look over my shoulder to Philip once more, who’s now on his knees before the guards, sharing a hug with Stella, and immediately regretting it — he’s trying to tap out of what appears to be an almost spine-crushing embrace. Brave is on the verge of rolling on the grass with laughter.

Forget the fact he’s one of a kind, he always finds a way to make the sun shine just a little bit brighter.

“Maybe,” I say, despite the pang of reservation that plucks at my innards like a harp, swinging back to Gytha and Rhythmic. “One day. I just… don’t think either of us really feel the need to… you know.”

“We understand.” Gytha nods. “It’s a formality more than anything — not really necessary for a long-lasting relationship.” She smiles and Rhythmic and wraps a wing around his barrel, hugging him close. “But in time… perhaps you’ll start thinking differently, and want to make it official. Me and this lad? Five years before we tied the knot. There wasn’t any rush, so we figured we’d take it slow, especially seeing as our courtship was rather… abrupt, shall we say.”

“Yes, well,” he rolls his eyes, “it certainly didn’t help that you were being extremely overt with your intentions. I’d never seen any female bend over like that before.”

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” She begins nibbling behind his ears again, almost completely oblivious to me yet again. “And besides, you needed the stress relief.”

“For the last time, there was no stress to be relieved.”

“Oh, but my dear,” she murmurs huskily, pausing her efforts and savouring every syllable as if it were maple syrup, “your two little friends down there begged to differ.”

“OKAY, ALRIGHT, THAT’S ENOUGH!” I shriek, spinning around and stomping off back toward the entrance of the house. “Dearly beloved, friends one and all, if I could have your attention, please!”

A mass of heads turn and look at me, some confused, some amused, all of them in some way eager to hear what I have to say.

“Thank you all for coming here,” I proclaim, stopping before the doorway and pivoting so that I’m facing everypony to some degree. “It means a lot to me, it means a lot to Philip, and thank you all for your support before the move as well — for being there for us when we were still figuring stuff out. But now that everything’s been put away and we’ve all bid our farewells, the show is finally over. All that’s left to do is some unpacking and sorting, and Philip and I can do that on our own.

“So, in the interest of not dragging this out, and seeing as I’m the proud new owner of this fine establishment, and every single one of you young whippersnappers are on my property, I respectfully ask you like the cranky old mare I am to get the heck off my lawn and piss off!”

“Well then, how’s that for gratitude?!” Thunderlane cries.

“As if we cared for you anyway!” Sunshower bellows.

“You will not be missed!” Spitfire yells, shaking her hoof for emphasis. “Hurricane is twice the flier you ever were, or could ever hope to be!”

“Yeah!” she shouts, hopping into the air from the back of the group and hovering, cupping her mouth in her hooves as she hovers. “I’ll even beat Lightning Dust’s Dizzitron record!”

“Do it, filly!” I demand, jabbing a wingtip at her. “I dare you!”

“Challenge accepted, ma’am!” She salutes, and then winds herself up and rockets off for the horizon with an airburst in her wake. “And goodbye!”

The noise and strength of the blast forces some of the other Bolts to duck and cover their ears. Even from this distance, I feel the rush of air against my fur, sweeping through my mane, making me squint as if I too were flying. And when everything dies down and stillness returns, there’s a stunned silence hanging over us all as we watch a colourful speck disappear into a clear sky.

I look to Spitfire and huff a laugh. “And this is the reservist who’s replacing me?”

She meets my gaze with an uneasy smile. “There are some… disciplinary issues, admittedly.”

“Then find another! Or do I need to come back just to steal your job and show you how it’s done?”

Uneasy turns to cheeky. “Oh, you try that, Fleet, and I’ll retire a happy mare.”

“I’ve beaten you to it, then!” With my wings, I wave them all goodbye. “So long, asshats! May you find happiness too! And if you somehow manage to bag yourself a human, don’t be shy! It’ll be the best mistake you’ll ever make!”

A chorus of chuckles and giggles erupt from the audience, but soon they bid their leave and, one by one, eventually start fluttering off to join their comrade. Soarin and Spitfire are the last to go, naturally, and I think I see the beginnings of tears in Soarin’s eyes before he turns away and follows the rest of the flock. Spitfire, on the other hoof, offers a proud smile, watching me as if I’d secretly been her hero all along.

But after enough time has passed, she gently nods, then hops into the air and chases after the team, trailing them far beyond the horizon, vanishing toward a city I might never call home again.

I won’t miss it. Not really, I don’t think. That probably makes me sound detached and heartless, I somehow get the feeling that Redcliff will make a pretty good substitute. I’ve done too much to think otherwise — made too many arrangements, shifted too many pieces on the board that is the game of life; the strategy has been locked in, and for better or worse, I’ll have to live with the outcome.

So far, things have been turning out for the better.

Next, the guards make their exit, all saluting and waving as they head down the path and through the open gate, Brave closing it behind them once they’ve all withdrawn from the yard. And she lingers even while the other three start down the road for the tram station, taking in the scene one last time, and gradually seeming more and more sentimental the longer she stares. It gets to the point where I have to wonder if she intends to say something, but when I open my mouth to ask, she simply sighs and smiles a little wider, then swings about and hurriedly falls in line with the others.

I check to see what’s happening with Rhythmic and Gytha, but they’ve already made it halfway back to their place, walking side by side and bumping into one another every so often, whispering and tittering like a pair of foals in a schoolyard romance. And strangely, it’s rather adorable, though I’m sure that if I’d seen this before I met Philip, I’d have brushed it off and rolled my eyes, thinking it pathetic more than anything else.

I’m glad that I’ve changed a bunch since then.

Philip, over the course of the departure, has steadily made is way back to me, and now stands by my side with his hand in my mane, just below the ear. He’s dressed for the occasion in his typically casual fashion, wearing that grey hoodie of his, the peach-coloured shirt, a long pair of drab cargo pants, and the same sneakers he’s been using for the past few months. And with him so close, touching me, gently massaging my nape, I know with absolute certainty things won’t be so bad.

“I thought we don’t talk about that night.”

I quirk an eyebrow and look up at him. “Pardon?”

He peers down at me and cocks one of his own, somewhat unimpressed. “Isn’t that what you meant by bagging yourself a human?”

“What?” I draw my head back in shock. “No, I…”

And then the full weight of my own words comes crashing down on me.

“…Oh my stars, I… That didn’t sound like I was implying that, did it?”

He pauses, then shrugs, staring off into the distance, where the Bolts had gone. “Maybe. They didn’t seem too affected by it, though, so maybe not. But in any case, I think we can both agree that we’ve put the whole thing behind us, right?”

I lower my gaze and scuff the stepping stones that make up the footpath to the house. “I guess so.”

“And there’s nothing else we’re hung up about regarding it?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“So, we can agree that we’ll stop talking about it from this day forth?”

I nod. “Agreed.”

“Cool.” He gets down on a knee and bows his head, peering up at me with a soft smile as he kneads my withers. “Now, what do you say we finish that unpacking?”

Purple sheets.

He bought a new bed just for us, and it has purple sheets.

And I don’t know why I’m feeling so happy about it — so… so elated. Appreciated. Valued.

Loved.

By the mercy of the Sisters and all the stars above, I really, truly have found a good one. And he’s not even trying to impress me; I never asked for this, and yet here we are.

They don’t smell the most pleasant, though — too much of that artificial fresh-from-the-package aroma stinking up the room. But that’ll fade away in time, eventually replaced by our natural musk, especially in the middle of those warm summer nights the Equestrian east coast is infamous for, with the humid air of the jungles blowing up from the south. Snuggling up to each other around then would be rather unwise, but I know we’d do it anyway, with or without the covers.

And maybe, if we were feeling particularly bold…

I close my eyes and shake my head. I swear, something has to be wrong with me if I’m contemplating any lurid possibilities every other minute. Just because I now have a boyfriend and just because we’re physically active and perfectly willing if the other wants to… it doesn’t mean we should. That’s not the foundation of a solid relationship; it’s a perk — a privilege — not bedrock, or even an obligation. I’m better than that.

But it would be fun.

…Great, now I can’t get the image of connected, sweaty bodies out of my head, or the imagined sound of laboured breaths, or the sensation of his hand playing with the fur on my chest, gradually sliding down to my…

I shudder, then immediately come to my senses and give myself a thorough shake, working out the tension in body, and hopefully quelling the small heat rising in my core. If I’m not careful, I might have to excuse myself and sneak off to the bathroom for a bit to calm down, either with the held of a quick, cold shower or… other means I daren’t think of.

But it wouldn’t stop me feeling dirty. Not ten minutes by ourselves and I’m already getting a little hot under the collar. Seriously, I must be suffering from something, because I’m sure no healthy mare, or stallion, or any gender of any species thinks about it much, even the first-timers.

I need to find something else to focus on. A safer, far more family-friendly subject.

…What did Stella say before I told everypony to get lost?

“Hey, Philip?”

“Yeah?” he replies from the living room, just through the open doorway.

“Did you ever get around to actually using any of your birthday presents?”

“My presents?” he echoes, sounding a little confused. And then it comes to him. “Oh, right, you mean the, uh… the book and the coupons and the record, as well as your ukulele?”

“Yeah.”

He pauses. “Why? Do you want to display them somewhere?”

…Not a bad idea, I suppose, but…

“Not quite.” I shake my head again, turning and strolling around the bed for the lounge. “I just heard from one of the guards that Luna would like to know whether you enjoyed her album. You know, since she never really heard back from you.”

“Ah.” Another pause. “Well, I haven’t listened to it yet, but that’s some good timing on your part.”

“Why?” I ask as I pass through and stop just past the entrance.

“Because I’ve finished setting up,” he answers, plugging in what appears to be the last wire from the speakers on either side into the sound system, one shelf below the DVD player on the left, and a record player on the right. And when he pulls away from the short TV cabinet, he sits on his knees and looks over to me with an encouraging smile. “Now we can put something on in the background while we do other stuff.”

On a treacherous impulse, I cock an eyebrow. “Other stuff, huh?”

He angles his head toward me and smirks. “Come on, Fleet, you know what I mean.”

“I know, I know.” My head sags and I sigh, covering my face with a foreleg and hiding beneath my wings for good measure, groaning to myself as I feel the embarrassment well up from the tightness in my chest. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Fleetybee…” he quietly beckons, almost pityingly. And then I hear him approach, crawling across the carpet on all fours. And then I hear him come to a halt before me, and feel his hand gently reach under my feathers and run its fingers through my hair. “Fleetybee, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Then how come I can’t get that side of me out of my head anymore?” I demand, flinging my wings open and returning them to my sides, letting my hoof fall to the floor and looking him directly in the eye. “Why does it always come back to the fact that we’re… you know…”

His lips press together and he glances away, his hand settling on my nape. “Because, Fleet… that’s just how people are. We find something new and exciting, and then we want it over and over again because it was…”

“Fun?” I sheepishly offer.

“Oh, immensely.” A restrained smirk sneaks through and he shakes his head. “And I’ll admit that I’ve been having some thoughts myself. You know, about how… great you were — how great you are. Among other things.”

I pause, and then lower my eyelids to half-mast and smile in a way that I hope is evocative. “What kind of things are we talking about?”

“This and that.” He shrugs. “All completely innocent, I assure you.”

“Of course.”

“But while I certainly wouldn’t be averse to doing… that again…” His attention wanders, drifting from my eyes to my cheek, my snout, my muzzle, my lips, and then tracing the contour of my mane and neck, following it all the way down my body to my rump. “Because you are… amazing.”

I shuffle my wings as my tail tucks in, a shy, flattered, somewhat randy nerve tugging at my core.

“…I think we owe it to ourselves to keep things… contained,” he finishes, meeting my gaze once more, and his smile grows warmer, friendlier, more inviting. “Moderated. It’s best that we don’t burn ourselves out too quickly, or else we’ll just have to settle for cuddles.”

“Then what were you doing carrying me to bed at your place?” I smugly counter. “You were the active one the whole time.”

“That was a one-off,” he states, his composed façade faltering as he lifts his brows and points a finger at me. “You were eager, so that made me eager, and… I don’t know. I get weak in the knees when someone’s adorasexy, and… you have that in spades.”

“Aw.” I put a hoof to my chest and grin. “How delightfully lewd. I’m touched.”

He chuckles, then shakes his head and shrugs. “Well, I mean… you do. And you’re beautiful and sweet and… and so many other things, Fleet. And it’s an honour to call you mine.”

“You say that as if I’m royalty.”

He lingers on me, his smile never wavering or seeming to lose focus, and then he looks down and picks up my hoof, cradling the flat in one hand while the other lays over it. And then he plants a kiss just below the pastern. And when he returns to me, I see nothing but admiration in those small, brown, loving eyes of his.

“You are to me,” he whispers, then gives me a tender peck on the snout.

Warmth fills me. Radiates from my barrel like a ray of sunlight on a sheet of ice. Fills me up to the very tips of my ears. Makes my feathers gently quiver with anticipation for whatever might be in store for me next. And I close my eyes and beam, savouring the sensation — the emotion — and it feels like I’m floating; like there’s a bed of air just beneath my hooves, and the second I allow myself to return to reality, it’ll vanish.

He’s too good for me. For anypony.

And yet, somehow…

He’s mine.

“Philip…”

“Yeah?”

My eyes creep open, meeting his in an alluring look. “I’m eager,” I huskily murmur. “Right now.”

For the briefest moment, I think I see some genuine shock — a twitch of his brow, a slight tug on the corner of his mouth — but the instant it shows, it’s gone; another smirk replaces it, but this one less smug and more… understanding.

And then he gently pats my hoof.

“Seventeen years of repressing the call of nature will do that to you,” he plainly states, “and fortunately for us both, I’m not really in the mood.”

I angle my head a little lower and pin my ears back, giving him the biggest, sweetest, most diabetic dose of puppy-dog eyes imaginable. “Pretty please?”

He sucks a sharp breath in through pursed lips. “Nice try, Fleetybee, but I have another idea. A more wholesome idea. Not to say that what I’d do to you wouldn’t be sensual, tender and painfully slow.”

The cheek of him, dangling a good time right in front of me, yet so far out of reach. “And what’s that?”

His smile returns, and then he lets me go and stands up, striding around the couch for one of the boxes piled at the opposite end of the living room. There, he doesn’t have to look very hard, shifting the plumed helmet out of the way and retrieving the record cover from so long ago. There’s even a fine layer of dust he tries blowing off, but figures his sleeve is better suited to the task. And when he deems it sufficiently clean, he presents his miraculous findings with an upbeat image. “How long has it been since we danced?”

I blink, eyes widening, and whatever tension that’s been building in my body vanishes completely. “You mean… you want to—”

“Mm-hmm.” He meanders over to the record player, sliding the disc from its cover and kneeling to place it on the pin, and wake the whole entertainment system up at the same time. “If tender loving is what you really want, Fleet, then we have the whole night ahead of us, but while it’s still light out… I wouldn’t mind setting the mood. Or, who knows? Maybe you’ll just want cuddles afterward, and nothing else.”

Oh, I doubt that. I doubt that very much, knowing how spirited and impulsive that side of me is becoming. But I’d be lying if I said this proposal of his didn’t seem… if not enjoyable, then at the very least sweet; it bears that trademark brand of saccharine charm I’ve fallen for. And I know I’d be kicking myself in my sleep for the next month and a half if I turned down the offer. It’s too special to let go.

Just like him.

The weightlessness returns, stronger than before, and before I can think to stop myself — not that I ever would — I slowly, gently nod and glide toward him, wings hanging limp.

As he watches my approach, he lays the empty rover to rest on the cabinet surface, and then stands up, facing me, bowing a little way and offering his hand, the other behind his back. There’s that lovely, entrancing, downright captivating look of wonder in his eyes, and he wears a delectable smile to match; a sight that nearly turns my legs to jelly, molten from the heat flowing through my veins.

Stars, am I sweating?

No, it can’t be. I’m just…

Flattered.

And thankful.

And smitten beyond compare.

This boy right here is the one for me.

And he isn’t even a pony.

And I couldn’t be happier.

I accept his offer and let him help me rear up, my hoof in his right, the other around his shoulders, his left on the small of my back. And as I peer into him, and he into me, I can barely hear the music begin to play.

Until, of course, something catches his attention and he looks up, quirking an eyebrow inquisitively.

A small bother. Nothing serious.

“What is it?” I hum, quietly begging for him to return.

“Tommy Dorsey,” he mumbles. “Polka Dots and Moonbeams.”

I blink, my brows faintly creasing. “The song?”

He nods absently. “The keys are a bit different, but… yeah, the tune’s more or less the same.”

I nod in kind. “How many parallels is that now?”

“I’ve lost count.” His eyes meet mine once more, and he beams a gentle, tender, heartfelt grin. “Not that it really matters anymore. Not when I have you.”

“Hush, dear.” I whisper, then balance on the edge of my rear hooves to snatch a kiss on the lips from him. “Let’s not ruin the moment.”

“Oh, we can’t have that, can we?” His smile never wavers, though his gaze grows distant. Dreamy. Filled with images of endless days and nights, and perhaps a few of us growing old. “I love you, Fleetfoot.”

“And I you, Philip.” I rest my head against his chest, and feel his warmth against my fur, listen to his breath and the steady beating of his heart. “Do you remember the moves for this one?”

I feel him nod, and he drapes his chin over me, holding even closer. Even more.

My smile widens, and my eyes slowly close. “Then lead away.”

And with the music playing in the background, and a contented hum of his own, we begin to dance.

All my life, I’ve needed this. And I wouldn’t give it up for the world.