takes place during S7 E8, (Hard to Say Anything) and S7 E10, (A Royal Problem.)

Okay, no biggie, stay focused today. Soarin doesn’t matter anymore. Dash was combing her mane, something she did much more often now, especially since she had joined the ‘Bolts, not wanting to appear as a total slob, especially to a certain stallion. As he flashed through her mind, the hoof directing the comb allowed it to fall from her grasp. She was trying to impress him still? To make him regret yelling at her? Or to appear confident and pretty? Dash glared at the floor as if it was her greatest enemy, equivalent to Tirek. The answer was both. Shoving the angry thoughts away and reminding herself why she was still upset, she picked up the comb and placed it back on the counter, ignoring the knots in the rest of her hair. Afterall, it didn’t matter what he thought of her. Or so she tried to tell herself.

As she exited the washroom and walked down the hall to get into her uniform, she passed his office to see him hard at work, his mane messy and eyes half lidded.

Dash’s heart fell. Who was she kidding? Despite it all, she liked him. Of course it mattered what he thought.

“Come on, Crash! Weight lifting in the gym!” High Winds called over her shoulder, flying beside Misty and Surprise.

Dash shook her head and rolled her shoulders. “Coming!”

Saving her energy, she casually began to walk down the hall, glancing every so often at the pictures of academy classes and record-breaking Wonderbolts over the years, all framed in gold. She hoped that one day she would be on there, still being a hero to look up to generations of Wonderbolts later.
The faint flapping of wings interrupted her thoughts, and Dash made a point of getting to weight section part of the gym, eager to stretch and get a decent workout. She could already see a lot of the team stretching and warming up through the glass doors, Spitfire and Fleetfoot adjusting the weight machines. Typical morning. She pushed her way through the doors and walked in, but frowned and turned when she didn’t hear the familiar click of it closing. Dash immediately wished she hadn’t turned when she saw who it was— Soarin, breathing slightly out of rhythm, mane a little out of shape, but as usual, the unmistakeable brightness in his eyes. Eyes that she hated.

Emeralds shifted and his gaze locked with hers.

Eyes that she loved.

Dash swallowed and brought back his harsh words to his mind. She hated him. She liked him. She hated him for making her like him.

“Good morning, Rainbow Dash,” he said formally.

Of course Soarin wouldn’t be petty in public. Just like her, he was a Wonderbolt first. “Good morning,” she said icily.

He raised a brow, looking her up and down like she was a weirdo.

Dash glared.

And to her surprise and delight, he forgot his role for a moment and glared right back.

Fleetfoot flew over to them and shoved Soarin. “Come on Clipper, stop staring at her and get to work.”

She stuck her tongue out at Dash and winked. “You too, Crash.”

Dash gave a faint smile. The situation wasn’t fun or simple. It was awkward, bad awkward.

“Hey Rainbow Dash!” Surprise chirped. “Come sit with us!” She waved her hoof over, motioning to her and High Winds at their usual table.

Dash internally sighed with relief. She normally sat with Wave, Spitfire, Fleetfoot, and Soarin, but ever since the fight... she was wondering who she would have to sit with, praying it wouldn’t be just her alone at a table. “Hi guys,” she greeted, slipping into the seat.

High Winds analyzed her. “What had you looking so lost?”

Dash shrugged and averted her eyes. “I wasn’t looking lost,” she said lamely.

Surprise frowned. “You kinda were. Which is weird, you always sit with Soarin and Spitfire,” she said, pointing to the group of four two tables down.

Magenta eyes followed Surprise’s resting on the chatting group of four of the most elite Wonderbolts. Fleetfoot and Soarin were telling a story, making Spitfire and Wave Chill laugh, leaning slightly into each other. Dash stared with mixed emotions. That was usually the table she sat at, and to see the four all getting along so well and not even look in her direction had her filled with envy and frustration directed towards her crush. She didn’t even understand, never thought that it was possible to be angry with the pony you had romantic feelings for but weren’t in a relationship with, but here she was, angry and liking him.

“So, Crash, did something happen with you and Soarin? You didn’t seem too friendly this morning during practice,” High noted, taking a bite of toast.

Dash felt her walls immediately go up, defence and offence ready to play. “No, we’re fine. Guess we were just busy,” she said nonchalantly, digging into her eggs to avoid talking.

High just tilted her head, not responding, while Surprise just grinned. “Are your friends gonna come up soon? Pinkie Pie and I were gonna have a balloon blowing contest!” she giggled, smiling expectantly.

High Winds green eyes smiled fondly at her best friend. Dash studied them. The green of High’s eyes were slightly mossier, didn’t shine, and they were nice, nice eyes. But they weren’t the beautiful emeralds Dash had grown to love. Silently, she began eating quickly, eager to head back out for a fly before returning to the compound for a routine practice of their next show.

“Here, Hoof-In-Mouth, Slowpoke, I’ll take your plates.”

Dash’s head snapped up, eyes instantly widening when she saw who it was. A heat covered her cheeks as she forced herself to look away from Soarin’s taut body, muscles flexing as he took her friends’ dishes.

“Yours too, Rainbow,” he added, holding his other wing out.

She looked back at him and placed her plate on his strong wing with her mouth. “Thanks.” Her voice was short, clipped, almost cold.

He looked away, and she caught those eyes filled with something almost like regret. Those gorgeous, green, sparkling emeralds. Though they bore the same colour, High Winds eyes were not Soarin’s.

“Um, Spitfire?” Dash knocked on the door again, pressing her ear against it.

The captain had asked Dash to meet her at her office for something quick, but surprising, Spitfire wasn’t there. She was a professional, and to see her late was rare and highly unlikely, even for one as busy as her.

She slumped against the wall, tipping her head back and staring up at the ceiling. It had been ten days since her and Soarin’s fight, and they were still mad at each other. As much as Dash tried to insist she was right and he deserved it, Fluttershy’s words still echoed in the back of her head.

Dash didn’t say anything. “It wasn’t really the fight that was the problem,” she admitted after a few minutes. “It’s just… the words, they, uh, I don’t know…”

“Hurt you?” ‘Shy guessed softly.

The reason she was upset was not because he yelled at her, hell, he could have said it in the most gentlest voice ever, and they still would have punched her in the gut. No one had ever saw so clearly through her act, had called her out on it and her attitude. He had shocked and surprised her and she was unprepared for the walls of her heart to be invaded so unexpectedly.

“Sorry ‘bout that, Crash, we’re here.”

Dash cocked a brow. “We’re? What do you mean? Oh—”

Soarin was right behind her, mouth formed into a thin, serious line. She could tell just from his rigid posture that he wasn’t in the mood for any crap.

Spitfire’s gold eyes flitted between the two of them and she sighed. “I asked you here to see if you wanted to help us come up with a new routine, something a little extra for Cloudsdale.”

Dash’s eyes immediately lightened at the offer, new ideas forming in her head of all the things they could add. Her smile must have shown her eagerness, because Spitfire smirked. “So, that’s a yes?”

“Absolutely, I—” Dash’s eyes shifted to the second-in-command, who’s green eyes were looking at the floor. Her spirits dropped as she watched his brows furrow, a tiny frown on his lips. He doesn’t want you there. Their equal frustration with each other loomed over the three like something you could cut in midair. It was always Spitfire and Soarin who were part of coming up with flight formations, and as much as Dash wanted to, she wasn’t going to take that time away from them, no matter how upset she was or how jealous she felt. In that moment though, she wasn’t sure who she was jealous of. Spitfire for spending time with Soarin, or Soarin for spending time with Spitfire?

“Crash?” Spitfire’s hoof waved in front of her pink eyes.

Blinking back into reality, Dash rubbed her neck with a hoof and gave a cool smile. “It’s okay, you guys do it. It’s kind of your thing.”

“Yeah, but we always switch it up every once in a while,” her captain protested.

Dash kept quiet, gaze steady to show that she would have to help out another time. It was disappointing, but there was no way she was being in the same room with him, especially because they both knew he didn’t want her there.

“No, really, another time. I… think Twilight wanted me for something anyways,” she lied, backing away.

Spitfire sighed. “Seriously?” she muttered.

Soarin sputtered a moment later. “Wait! I’ll, uh, I’ll go.”

Dash turned around, piercing him with her gaze, causing a gulp from him. “It’s fine, Soarin.”

He didn’t back away, instead a small blush forming on his cheeks. “No, it’s fine, Rainbow. I can find something to do, you know, Fleetfoot and Surprise invited me to—“

Dash felt her impatience grow. “No. You go,” she said through gritted teeth.

His eyes closed in frustration. “No. You go.”

“It’s your thing!” Dash exclaimed. “You go.”

Spitfire opened her mouth. “How ‘bout—”

“You never get to do this. Just accept it. You go,” Soarin sighed.

Dash took this to heart and stepped closer. “What? Are you saying I’m not good enough to help?”

“No!” He rolled his eyes. “Just take my offer you—”

Dash rose into the air, finally able to meet him in the eye. “What? What am I, Soarin?”

His handsome face finally grew angry, yet he refused to answer.

Dash wasn’t having it, directing all the hurt she felt towards him and turning it into anger. “Too scared to answer?” she taunted. “Hmm?”

Soarin huffed. “I am your second-in—”

A sharp whistle interrupted. “Enough!” Spitfire roared, shoving herself in between them. “I don’t know the nitty gritty details of your fight, but you will keep it together when you are at work.” Her gaze hardened. “It is your job as Wonderbolts to act professionally, and if I see this again, both your asses will be in big trouble.” She took her hooves off them and Dash immediately backed away, out of respect for her job and for Spitfire.

“Sorry,” they both mumbled.

Spitfire covered her eyes with her sunglasses, her brows low. “Good. And as for the routine, I’ll be working on it myself.”

Soarin raised a hoof. “You can’t plan a whole routine by yourself, Spit,” he argued.

Dash gave a faint nod, a sign she agreed. A subtle sign.

Spitfire just glared again. “Yes I can, and if I happen to want help, I’ll ask for it from somepony else. And it will be that way until you guys figure your shit out. Got it?” Her eyes looked in Soarin’s direction, and his mouth shut again, silencing any protests.

Dash nodded, emptiness taking over as she flew away. She hated this. More than words could express.