A Dragon's Sweetheart

"I can't believe I'm saying this, Scoots, but thanks for the Coitus Interuptus,” said Spike. “If you hadn’t shown up, and Sweetie and I hadn’t remembered today was our big day, I wouldn’t have been able to reschedule my reservation at the Sunset Soiree in time.”

"That's what I'm here for,” said Scootaloo. She leaned back in her chair and took a huge drink from her cup. It was labeled with a crude misspelling of her name, which used a K instead of a C, and an improper amount of O’s.

The neon sign above the front door, which boasted the coffee shop’s name, Donut Unto Others, flickered off as the nearby clock turned to 10:00 AM. Happy hour at the coffee shop had officially come to an end, and not a moment too soon, as Sweetie Belle was just coming back with her white chocolate mocha (Large size, of course). She took a seat next to Spike, who was drinking an ice tea.

“So, yeah, no scales off my back,” Spike continued. “We’ll just change the celebration of our year together to a celebration of a year and two days.”

“And that’ll make it just a little more special,” Sweetie Belle said. She leaned in and kissed Spike on the cheek. After a brief pause, he seized her by the waist and tickled her, causing her to snort and break out laughing. “Agh! You lug!”

“I’m not a lug, I’m a dragon.”

“Foul beast!”

Scootaloo shielded her eyes from the sight, wearing a grimace so intense it was as if she was in actual pain from the couple’s cuteness. “Oh, give me a break…”

Sweetie managed to calm down from her burst of laughter, at least enough to lean her head back and kiss Spike on the beak. She had to hold herself back from a more passionate kiss, as she didn’t want to create a scene. She was already a little paranoid. As she let go of Spike, she reached into her coat pocket and brought out a pair of sunglasses.

“What’s up with those?” Spike asked, though he thought up the answer to his own question as he asked it. “Oh, right.”

“I’m fresh off of my latest concert tour, babe. In the mind of a paparazzo, I’m relevant again. I need to keep a low profile.” Sweetie put the sunglasses on. Even in incognito, she still managed to pull off the look.

Spike, of course, knew why sunglasses would be so effective against any unwanted attention, as Sweetie’s wide eyes were her most defining feature. She and him both had long since come to accept this as a necessary drawback in an otherwise very successful relationship. Still, he felt a need to console her. “Doll, you know you’re always relevant.”

“Heh, then you clearly don’t know how the mind of a paparazzo works.” Sweetie stirred her drink and took a sip. “Mmm, that’s heavenly. See, if I don’t get into a car crash or make out with someone other than my pedestrian boyfriend—”

“Pedestrian?” Spike muttered with a smile.

“—then I’m not good material for the tabloids. The most they’ll be able to attack me over is getting a mustard stain on my blouse, or walking through the bad part of town.”

“What bad part?” Scootaloo asked. “Ponyville has no bad parts. There’s just, like, that one house that needs a new paintjob.”

Sweetie shrugged and took another drink. “They’ll figure something out. They always do.”

“You know you don’t need to stick by their standards of what makes you a good pony, Sweets. All you need to be is you.” Spike clasped his hands together and cracked a devious grin. “In fact, I say that you can have more control over them than they have over you.”

“Honestly, the line is pretty blurred. My actions can influence them as much as they can influence, ah…” Sweetie trailed off as she looked over Scootaloo’s shoulder.

Clear across the coffee shop was a filly, at least twelve years old at a glance, sitting next to her parents. She was holding a hot chocolate in one hand, and nervously clutching her headphones in the other as she glanced repeatedly towards Sweetie Belle.

Sweetie smiled at the filly, took off her glasses and got out of her seat. “Back in a tick.”

Spike watched as his mare strode over to the filly’s booth. “Isn’t she a wonder?” he asked Scootaloo. “Of all the celebrities I could be with, I had to end up with the nicest one in existence. And she’s fantastic with kids, too.”

Scootaloo narrowed her gaze at Spike. “Reeeeally.”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Spike asked, holding his arms out.

“Nothin’...”

Sweetie was on her way back, with the filly following fast on her heels. She was looking in a different direction, this time at Spike. She skipped ahead and stood between Spike and Sweetie’s chairs. “Uh, hi,” she said quietly.

“Hey there, little one,” Spike said, putting his drink down and turning his chair. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

Sweetie shook her head. “No, but you know her garb. Have a look at it.”

Spike leaned down and looked over the filly’s white jacket. He recognized it through and through, from its crested hood to its oversized tail, as well as the fang-shaped zipper. “He-hey, that’s my design! You have good taste in clothes, kid.”

“I’m a big fan of your work…” the filly said reluctantly. She was squeezing her braid nervously. “I have three more of your jackets at home.”

“That’s awesome. I worked really hard on those, I didn’t know if anyone else wore them.”

The filly dropped her guard, smiling up at Spike as she swung back and forth. “Well, ever since I started wearing the stuff you’ve made, this colt I like has started talking to me a lot more… And, uh, that’s a bit of a problem. I think so, anyway.”

“Why’s that?” Spike asked.

“Well, if he doesn’t like me for, uh, me… Do you think he just likes the way I look?”

Spike smiled wrily, leaning back in his chair. "Well... I should be honest, that’s just because of how boys work. When I was a little kid, I had a crush on two different unicorns in less than a week. One at Celestia's academy, and one in a town called Ponyville. You've heard the name Rarity, right?"

"Oh, my mom has some of her dresses. They look amazing on her.”

“Custom designed?”

“Yep.”

Spike gave a light chuckle. "Yeah, Rarity has an eye for inner beauty. Me? I only looked skin deep, back then. One look at Rarity and I fell like a spastic boy on espresso. Who’s blind. In a rock museum. I had her pegged as something more than just another pretty mare.” Spike made quotations with his claws. “The One. Of course, I was a kid and she was already running her own store, but..." He trailed off with a shrug, before getting back on topic. "Anyways. I liked her for how pretty she was. And a few other things… She was generous. Kind. Chill. But she wasn’t The One." Spike scratched his cheek, frowning slightly. “This is a bad metaphor. My point is, I wouldn’t have found out what a great mare she is if she hadn’t looked so amazing. Same case for this pretty thing.” He pointed at Sweetie, who ran her fingers through her hair. “Good looks are the first step towards falling in love. But make sure this kid focuses on your personality. That’s far more important, okay?”

The filly looked a little overwhelmed, but she had a small, determined smile on her face. "O-of course. Thank you. And, uh, thanks for making the duds."

Sweetie handed Spike her pen. Spike clicked it open. “Awesome. Would you mind if I…?”

“Not at all. Have at it,” the filly said, turning around and flaring out her jacket. Spike scribbled his name in stylish, faux-cursive letters. After he finished, the filly turned around a few times to get a look at it. “Score! Two in one day! Mom! Dad!” She ran back to her parents with a spring in her step.

Spike turned back to his ice tea and took a victory drink. “Cute lil’ scamp, isn’t she? They’re so cool at that age—”

Spike’s voice was silenced by a pair of lips. Sweetie Belle had just forced herself onto him, clenching her arms to his shoulders and hopping onto his lap. “Why are you so attractive right now?” she asked him.

“Hm, clue me in, my rhetorical starlet…” Spike muttered to Sweetie.

Scootaloo facepalmed, dragging her hand over her face. She grabbed a few sugar packets and rolled out of her seat. “I’m gonna go ralph in the street. Don’t wait up.”