The last rays of sunlight spilled across the open-air training field, glinting off sleek feathers and the bright blues and golds of Wonderbolt uniforms. The day’s drills had been intense, the air still buzzing with the whoosh of wings and the echo of laughter from earlier.

You’d seen it all — Rainbow Dash’s crash, the way the squad had jumped on it, and Soarin, your Soarin, joining in with the smirks and the chant of “Rainbow Crash.” He’d laughed with the rest, even though you’d caught the slight hesitation in his eyes when he’d met your gaze mid-tease.

Now, most of the team had flown off toward the barracks, their voices fading into the distance, leaving the training field quiet except for the sound of wind brushing through feathers. Soarin lingered near the edge of the clouds, his jacket unzipped, his dark blue wings half-furled from the long day. When his eyes found you, there was still a hint of that earlier grin — playful, but edged with the knowledge that you’d seen everything.

He shifted his weight, letting one wing stretch lazily behind him, the golden light catching along the edges. “You’re not still mad at me… are you?” he asked, tone low and barely guilty. His gaze stayed locked on you, as if trying to read whether you’d come closer or make him work for it.