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“Ah’m sorry ah had ta’ drag ya all the way out here fer this, little buddy.”



“Don’t worry about it! Anything for a fellow man!”



The foundry was located on the outskirts of Ponyville. The red stallion had approached the baby dragon, seeing as how he was the only one anypony knew in town who was acquainted to dealing with fire.



“But still; all it is is a old pair o’ horseshoes.”



“Hey, when I get done mending them, they won’t look so old anymore!” Spike rammed the mallet onto the metal horseshoes, sparks flying due to the heat present. “Now we just need to let them cool a bit.”



“Much obliged, pardner,” Big Macintosh said.



“So, why did you need those old things fixed anyway?”



“Well, ya see,” he mumbled nervously, “uh, ah want ta look my best tonight.”



“Tonight?” Spike asked quizzically.



“Eyup,” Big Mac said. “It is the Valentine’s Dance, after all.”



“My gosh, I almost forgot about that!” Spike said in realization.



“Will you be goin’?” Big Mac’s question went unanswered for several moments as the dragon before him seemed lost in some reverie. Spike was recalling what had happened several days before…



“Nah,” he said at length. “Those frou frou dance things aren’t really for me.” Lying through his teeth was something Spike wasn’t proud to do, though he wouldn’t deny doing it often. Having been denied by the love of his life hurt him more this time than others. But he elected to keep it inside.



“Well, ah’m sorry ta hear that,” Big Mac responded. “That Pinkie Pie sure knows how to throw a party; ‘specially one like this.”



“I hope you have a good time, then,” Spike said. Looking at the pony across from him closely, he could tell that Big Mac had an uncharacteristic, goofy smile on his face. “…But surely it can’t be that exciting!”



“Oh, but it is!” He said with an aloof grin. “Ya see, Spike; ah am a pony infatuate with love.”



“Infatuate?” The dragon chuckled. “Not sure if I even know what you’re saying there.”



“Ah used a thesaurus from Miss Twilight,” Big Mac said proudly. “No doubt mah language could use a li’l touchin’ up.”



“Sounds like you really want to make an impression!”



“Ah sure do! Them pretty fillies, Spike.”



“Pretty fillies, heh.” Spike rolled his eyes. “Tell me about it. Can’t live with them, can’t live without ‘em.”



“Not just that,” Big Mac pulled up a chair and sat backwards, leaning over the back of the chair to look at the other. “Their looks, their personalities; everythin’ about them. Mah mare, fer example.” A sigh escaped his lips as he looked dreamily off somewhere above Spike’s head. “My, is she a beaut. But it ain’t just how stunnin’ she is that makes me fall head over hooves fer her. Ya know what ah mean?”



“I think you’re being overly mushy,” Spike said. Big Mac laughed in response.



“Spike, come on. Ah can’t help it if ah’m a hopeless romantic. But ya hafta have ideas ’bout yer dream mate, too! Think about yer ideal mare. Or a dragon!” Unconsciously, Spike was shooting a glare at Big Mac.



“Let’s keep it simple and stick to ponies.”



“Alright then, think’a her. What do ya see?” Spike didn’t need to be told twice in order to think of the exquisite unicorn from the boutique that he was so madly in love with.



“She’s beautiful…” He whispered, closing his eyes. “…Running a brush through her gorgeous mane.” Big Mac grinned.



“See what ah mean?” He asked. “Anythin’ a pretty filly does could knock some of the strongest ponies off their hooves.”



“Looking at you with those lovely eyes of hers,” Spike continued. “…I guess you’re right. I never thought about it that way.”



“And even the simple stuff,” Big Mac said. He thought of something an orderly pony would do; something a filly who was organized would start her morning off with. “Like plannin’ out her day.”



Recalling all the times he saw her on a daily basis, Spike blurted out his next sentence without thinking.



“Hanging out with her friends.”



Slowly blinking his eyes, lost in an imaginary world, Big Mac stated an ordinary event.



“Flower pickin’.”



Spike dared to go deeper. He saw his love doing what she did every single day inside of her shop, smiling every step of the way.



“Cloth choosing.”



Big Macintosh kept with the simple things.



“Smilin’.”



Almost feeling her hooves around him at that moment, Spike tensed up, inhaling deeply as he imagined them together. He ignored the fact that it could never be; he could live in his fantasy world for the time being.



“Breathing softly.”



A chuckle came forth from Big Mac. He himself was imagining his mare doing something she loved to do.



“Sewin’ fabrics.”



Spike heard something deep within his mind. The sound of happiness. Happiness from the one that he loved. Yes! That was what he wanted for her!



“Or… just laughing…”



“How they make a colt sing, ah tell ya,” Big Mac said, leaning against a metal rack. “Eeeyup… pretty fillies.”



“…Pretty fillies,” echoed Spike. The illusion of his dreams slowly faded away as he blinked twice. He looked over at the clock and flinched. “Woah, look at the time! Your horseshoes are fine to wear now; sorry I kept ya waiting!” The pony in the room laughed heartily.



“No problem at all, pardner,” he said as the dragon fetched his horseshoes. Spike presented them to him as he tried them on. “More dashin’ then they ever were, ah have ta say it. Thanks a baleful, Spike.”



“Don’t mention it.”



“She sure is gonna be surprised to see me like this,” Big Mac said approvingly.



“Hey, Big Mac,” Spike started, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Who is she?”



“Whah, Miss Rarity from the boutique. Ah asked her the other day, and she said that no one else had even asked her yet! Fancy that! Welp, have a good evenin’, Spike. Thanks again.”



Spike could only stand still; unmoving as the customer left the foundry.



* * *