Smolder surveyed her cozy cave. Really, it was a disused outbuilding of Canterlogic that she took over as one of Maretime Bay’s two resident dragons, her adoptive son recently having moved to the hangar across the runway. Over the years, she had converted the massive cinderblock structure into a proper dragon's lair. The concrete floor was smothered in gravel and smooth glass baubles; the offices converted into a warren of guest rooms for visiting ponies. As always, the coziness was ramped up for the winter Wishday, the most important Wishday of the year. Metal garlands were draped from every rafter and railing, wreaths hung from the catwalks—no tinsel or lace to be found in this house. Garlands of gemstones crisscrossed the airspace, providing ample snacks for Sparky and Spike when either would visit.
Piled along the wall, between two of the five fireplaces, was Smolder's most prized surprise, not to be unwrapped until next harvest season, at the earliest. Inside a ring of large river rocks sat a clutch of around twenty eggs, laid shortly after the Sun Celebration. Surprise was the right word to describe their contents. Even Spike and Ember did not know what creatures to expect. What was sure was that at least five were alive (or else her body would not have invested five years of trace mineral reserves to make them), and at least five were duds and decoys.
Hitch stood in that peculiar pony snoozing pose on the first-level catwalk. If Smolder balanced on her hind claws, his face was at ideal kissing height. She gave her eggs a burst of 10% power flames, then returned her focus to her snoozing husband. With the skills she had obtained over the years, she knew the best way to rouse a pony without startling them. First, however, she wanted to enjoy more frou-frou feelings of a tea party without first finding a lace tablecloth to repurpose as a she-dragon’s dress. She scrambled her way to a large button board near the main doors, where she tapped in the song request to play over the upgraded industrial PA system. Pipp Petals' Hearthswarming Classics serenaded Smolder, Hitch, and their eggs with rousing strings before transitioning to modern melodies. Smolder (among other dragons) was approached by Sunny and Haven two Sun Celebrations ago to share their faded memories of Hearthswarming carols, the two mares seeking to revive ancient Equestrian music in a bid to cement the recently-gained unity further.
Smolder shook her head, then tossed a log on the primary fireplace: surveying her eggs had made her nostalgic. To clear her mind, she stuck her face in the fire and exhaled through the chimney, putting on a light show for the sleeping neighbors.
Carefully rearing up, she shifted her weight to a support column through her front right claw. Slowly, she inched her head over the catwalk's railing until it waited patiently two inches away from Hitch's face. Eventually, Hitch noticed the new object in his proximity and shifted his mass to balance on all four hooves as he opened his eyes.
"Good middle of the night," cooed Smolder.
"What time is it?" Asked Hitch with a yawn.
Smolder glanced at the oversized clock atop the front entrance. "Hour and a half past midnight. More or less."
"Is this your reminder that I need proper laydown sleep?"
Smolder licked Hitch from poll to tail.
"You can have your proper lay down on—" Smolder paused to consider which position she wanted to sleep in. Rather than finish her sentence, she extended her left claw to the catwalk and flared her left wing, forming a channel between her wing and dorsal spines.
Hitch stepped onto her outstretched arm with well-practiced overconfidence, then used the side of her face as a comforting wall for balance as he walked toward her shoulder. He swished his tail as he sat down for decreased friction and slid down the channel. Once deposited at the base of her tail, he quickly scrambled out of the way before she could shift position.
Seeing her hubby safely out of the way, Smolder rolled on her back and propped her neck against the support column. Hitch got a running start and used the crook of Smolder's elbow as leverage to leap up her side. She grabbed Hitch with shocking alacrity to ensure he did not slide off her smooth belly scales, then steadied him between her arms where they could nuzzle noses.
"I remember the first time you invited me to cuddle." Hitch grinned at the memory.
"Yeah, you were so hard up after Zipp flew off that you would've been equally as happy if I ate you."
"Zipp was 'hard up' over Sparky bonding with you in a way impossible for her. At least she seems to have found happiness."
"She had made a foal with that unicorn, right?"
"Two with Jasper, actually. A unicorn filly and a pegasus colt. Fairly sure she has another on the way."
"Mare needs to slow down. Their royal family must be about bankrupt from the food budget at this rate."
Hitch laughed. "I'm sure a pegasus filly will encourage her to take a break. Anyway, do you remember inviting me to cuddle on that visit with Sparky?"
"I'm pretty sure I held my tail to the ledge and invited you to climb aboard."
A sforzando note interrupted the conversation.
"That's how I discovered how slippery dragon scales truly are. If you hadn't caught me, I would have been splattered into pieces from the airtime."
Smolder opened her mouth in silent dragon laughter, bathing Hitch in hot air. Contrary to popular belief, a healthy dragon's non-fire breaths contain no chemicals a pony can smell. Rumors of the stench were only valid when they were reduced to hunting ponies—unicorns, specifically—in starvation conditions. At its strongest, it's salty sea air without the fish.
She finally regained her composure; Hitch had long ago accepted the bizarre humor of dragons. "You might have broken a bone or two, but you certainly didn't have enough velocity to be splattered." Rubbing a singular talon from her right claw along Hitch's topline, she added, "I am glad I caught you."
Hitch scooted himself forward for a kiss. The compromise they worked out between a pony and an adult dragon was she'd lick his muzzle, and he'd rub his cheek (or an ear, if itchy) against her facial spines.
"I'm glad it was you who caught me," he finally said once he broke the ersatz kiss.
The holiday lighting bathed the artificial cave in warm tones, enhancing the colors each found attractive in the other as Pipp's reimagining of ancient Hearthswarming carols serenaded the two. Had they been similar sizes and better dancers, the pair would have enjoyed midnight dancing until dawn. Instead, they let moments pass as they threatened to leave the other for the realm of sleep as their minds envisioned the many other times Smolder used her scales as Hitch's personal thrill ride before she asked him to "be romantic with me" because "Isn't romance what ponies do when they love each other?"
"Remind me to thank Little Sparky in the morning," whispered Smolder, breaking the silence.
"What to thank Not-So-Little Sparky for?"
"He's not even adult pony size." Smolder lifted a foot straight in the air until it towered over Hitch. "He has plenty of growth left in him."
Smolder relaxed her leg. "Thank him for bringing us together. And thank you"—words Hitch would never expect to hear when they first met—"for accepting my proposal to spend alone time together without Sparky as a pretext."
It was Hitch's turn to reminisce. "Remember when he was pony small? He'd ask to be dunked in the lava pit and come out glowing like molten glass."
"Yeah. That's how he bonded to me in the first place. He hit my chest plate with proper fire breath right after I did deep between scale cleaning, and he quite literally melted my heart."
Hitch (finally!) knew better than to question dragon survival around extreme temperatures. Likewise, he no longer questioned draconic social rituals, such as magical adoptive bonding. Despite being established as husband and wife, he never actually married Smolder. They "merely" kept choosing to fall in love each day until every other creature, both equine and dragon, accepted they were together forever. Pipp came closest to convincing the pair to have a wedding. Still, Smolder dismissed it because she could wear other pretty dresses without putting in all that planning work or making such a public display of being pretty. She had a (mostly) forgotten reputation to maintain, after all.
In the dim mood lighting, both creatures appreciated how their near-circular pupils matched for the moment. In the daytime, Hitch could not remember the moment his feelings first solidified to love; he was reminded of how solid the feelings were every time he gazed into the vertical slits punctuating the turquoise. The day he found those pupils equally beautiful as a standard pony eye, his outlook shifted from "this can work" to "this has worked."
Smolder lifted a protective claw to keep Hitch in place, then scooted herself along her back until her entire neck could lay flat. Keeping her husband balanced atop her upturned undercarriage, she stretched her neck and gave the clutch another warming flame.
Left unsaid was the anticipation at their presents. Next harvest may add some dragon hatchlings to next year's foal crop; potentially, some would stay dormant until decades after Hitch was every bit as dead and buried as his beloved Grandma Figgy before a fitting magical surge unlocks them. Instead, they drifted off to sleep, too tired to notice that the music had ended, leaving only the distant waves and the gentle churning of the overhead ventilation fans.
Their dreams were of each other and of topics discussed many times. Would, as Smolder insisted, the eggs hatch to reveal kirins, strange pony-size creatures with deer hooves, dragon fire tolerance and scales, and a bizarre singular branched horn? Or, as Sunny suggested when visiting the couple, they become ponies with dragon wings, eyes, and horns? What inspired Smolder's body to make eggs so long after they were in love? After all, they had assumed a dragon and equine union simply didn't work like that until Smolder was ravenous for niche minerals and surprised Equestria with a nest of eggs a moon later.
Hitch, ever the early riser, woke between dawn and sunrise. Smolder's protective claw gently rested on his back. He wiggled himself free, then slid down her neck, nestling along the underside of her jaw. With a quick hop to the ground, he walked to nuzzle himself into her facial spines to wake her with a good morning kiss.
Once her eyes opened, he greeted her with "Good morning, dear. " Using his daily joke for the Wishday season, he complimented her on having done her Wishday shopping early this year.
Smolder stretched while she yawned. "There's a reason…"
"…I love you." Hitch's tenor joined her morning baritone a sixth above.
