Four o’clock. Spike slumped against the door, glad that his work day was over.

Cheerilee had told her class they could earn extra credit if they wrote an assignment on dragons. Of course she had reminded them of what a great resource the town librarian would be. This then led to twelve foals rampaging through the library, pillaging the shelves of any draconic related books, as well as bombarding him with countless questions.

“Et tu, Cheerilee?” he muttered, looking around at the remnants of the library he once called his home. Spike went about righting the bookshelves that had been toppled by Ginger Gold and the four other foals that comprised the current generation Cutie Mark Crusaders.

He stacked the books haphazardly on the shelves, grumbling as he realized that he would have to make tomorrow a reshelving day, and how that would put back his other scheduled items.

Everypony knew that tomorrow was his scheduled day to send the Princess a letter.

Though truth be told: it was just a day they had both set aside for Twilight and himself to discuss any particularly interesting books they’d both read. This would invariably start a heated debate between the two bookwyrms, which would lead to an all out dragon flame war, as scrolls of argumentative writings flew between Canterlot Castle and Golden Oaks Library.

After Ditzy Doo ended up with a very singed tail, the mail pegasi declared the area a no-fly zone, and Mayor Mare informed him he was restricted to one scheduled day per week.

“Tomorrow,” he sighed. “I’ll sort them tomorrow. Right now, I need to eat.”

Spike cast a forlorn look at the piles of books, before closing the door behind him. It irritated him to no end leaving the library in such a mess.

Four minutes later the door slammed open. An irritated dragon huffed through the room, grabbing books and putting them in their correct places.

“Aardvarks: A Pet Owner’s Guide.” Spike let out an annoyed growl. “Check.”

Three hours. It was a new record for Spike.

He found hunger a wonderful motivator for reshelving. Ignoring his compulsive urges, he willed himself to limit to only double-checking his work. Taking notice of the faded light, it was obvious that Sugarcube Corner would be closed. While he needed something much more substantial than Pinkie's pastries, he also had an unexplained, very strong desire to visit the Corner.

Well, not completely unexplained. It was somewhat explainable, he had to admit. Actually, probably very explainable. If he was going to be completely honest, even if just to himself, it was actually so far removed from unexplained that scientific dissertations might well have had been written on the topic and every subtle nuance of the subject mapped out with unerring clarity.

But he wasn’t going to give it any more thought to it than that. Stepping into the cool night, he made his way into town.

Flying above the streets of Ponyville, Spike realised he didn’t really have a destination in mind. Yet his wings beat a familiar path and he quickly found himself standing at the pink door of the gingerbread themed bakery, the landing having woken him from his daze he looked around. The lights were off and nopony seemed to be home.

“Spikey!” The pink mare wrapped her arms around his neck as she opened the door. She was wrapped in a fluffy woolen scarf, striped cerulean and pale yellow to match her cutie mark.

“Hey Pinkie. Sorry, were you heading out?”

“Yep! I was just going to meet Rarity for dinn–” Pinkie Pie gasped. “You should come too Spikey! We could have dinner and dessert and tea and cakes and that would make it a dinner party!”

“Oh, no. I don’t want to impose on your dinner.” Spike shook his head. He felt guilty he’d barged in on somepony else’s plans. “I’ve just had a long day. I thought about getting something from here, but I didn’t consider how late it is.”

To anypony else, this would have been a bald-faced lie: Spike, like his older sister, had become a stickler for timetables. To Pinkie though, it was a perfectly understandable reason; she forgot things all the time! Except for birthdays, anniversaries, and any-or-all-other manner of time and dates important to ponies. And ponies' names. And everything every pony of Ponyville held dear. And she remembered that there were ponies who held the concept of times and dates important just because. Like Time Turner. And Spike.

“Okie… dokey…” Pinkie frowned, watching the nervous looking dragon. “…lokie.”

Spike groaned. He was the worst actor.

“You have to come to dinner, Spikey. You owe me.” Pinkie stared at him, not accepting no for an answer.

“Spike!”

Both Pinkie and Spike turned to find a very out-of-breath Rarity behind him.

“Rarity?” Spike moved toward the panting mare. “Are you okay?”

“I… have… been…” Rarity stopped to regain her breath. “Pardonnez-moi!

“Pinkie and I were planning on dinner; I went to the library to invite you, but you took off before I could reach you.

“I have been calling out to you since you left the library,” she added darkly.

Spike blushed. He had been paying so little attention, or perhaps he was so deep in thought, that he had not heard his friend calling him. “Sorry, Rarity.”

“Spikey is being a big grumpy-mc-grump-grump.” Pinkie Pie pouted. “He doesn’t want to come to dinner with us.”

“I just didn’t want to impose,” he tried to explain.

“Spike!” Rarity snapped. “What would your coltilian etiquette training tell you to do when two unescorted mares ask you to accompany them to dinner.” Spike had spent some time in Canterlot, training in noble etiquette in an attempt to impress Rarity. Now she was wielding it against him with a cheeky grin. She worked guilt so well, Spike thought she could have made a grand Celestial nun.

He let out a sigh. “I must apologise, miladies; I beg you forgive my prior impudence. It would be my honor to escort two lovely mares such as yourselves to dinner.”

“Much better.” Rarity smiled.

“Yay! Spikey’s coming to dinner.” Pinkie bounced with excitement.

“Buona sera, Rarity mia amica.” The owner, a familial old stallion, drew her into a hug. “It is good to see you again!”

“Lipizzano, it is good to see you too,” Rarity smiled at the old stallion. “How is Maremmano? I haven’t seen her in the boutique for so long. Please, do tell her she must visit me again soon. I miss her so.”

“You warm this old stallions heart. Please come, come! Sit! Devi mangiare, tu sei troppo magro!” He led the three to a cosy booth at the back. Rarity ushered Pinkie Pie into the booth next to her, while Spike took the booth opposite the two.

“Lipizzano, may we get an antipasto platter for starters? Oh, and a bottle of Shiraz and three glasses would be lovely.”

“Anything for you, bella! Godetevi la vostra notte!” He kissed her on the cheek before leaving.

As Spike and Pinkie looked over their menus, Rarity made suggestions. “Pinkie, I think you might like the caponata, though you may also enjoy a risotto. Spike, I am certain Lipizzano would mix in a few rubies into a panzanella for you if you asked him.” Spike and Pinkie nodded as Rarity spoke. Neither of them had eaten here before, and decided to trust her judgement.

“And I might…” Rarity’s eyes went wide. “Oh no. Oh no! Oh, this is the worst possible thing!”

“What’s the matter?” Spike looked up from his menu, seeing Rarity in a complete panic.

“Oh my, how embarrassing. I was expecting a… a call, fr–from Fancy Pants. Oh no! I completely forgot!” Rarity got to her hooves. “I am so sorry, you two. Please forgive me, I must go. The meal is on me. Please, have a wonderful night without me.”

Spike and Pinkie watched as Rarity trotted to the door. She stopped to speak with Lipizzano as she passed him a sizable sack of bits. Spike’s sharpened hearing could pick up a few faint words, though he didn’t recognize the language he did pick out the words ‘serata molto romantica’ as Rarity looked over her shoulder back at them.

Spike groaned. Rarity was the best actor.

“Spikey,” Pinkie asked with a confused tone, “what did she mean by expecting a call?”

“I… uh, I’m not sure,” he answered.

They sat in an awkward silence for a bit, sharing a glass of wine when Lipizzano returned with a bottle.

“… do you think she meant a booty call?”

Spike choked on his wine.

Once the antipasto arrived, they ordered their mains, and conversation resumed. Despite the embarrassing situation Rarity had foisted upon them, Spike happily listened to the stories Pinkie was sharing. He found himself rapt in her eyes.

‘Her wonderful blue eyes, the color of a midday sky.’ He mused. ‘Her giggly, girly voice.’

‘The cute curls in her poofy mane.’ He sighed. ‘That smile always adorning her beautiful face.’

“Whatcha looking at Spikey?” Pinkie Pie grinned, his name breaking Spike from his daze. “Do I have chutney on my cheeky?”

“Eh-hehe, no sorry,” Spike chuckled nervously. Cursing at himself, he worried that he was making Pinkie Pie uncomfortable. “No, sorry, I was just lost in thought.”

“What about?”

“Uh–” Spike wondered what he was thinking about. He couldn’t tell the truth, that the mare in front of him had captured his very thoughts. “– a book.”

‘A book? A book? That’s the best you could come up with.’

‘Hey! I didn't hear you come up with anything better.’

“A book?”

“Yeah, uhh, well…”

‘Think quick, think quick!’

‘I would think quick, if you weren’t so busy yelling at me.’

“Oh yeah, I didn’t tell you about what happened today…”

Spike shared the story of the foals, and what he suspected was Cheerilee’s revenge for the dragon poetry, and his disastrous afternoon.

“So by that point, Ginger and his friends decided they didn’t want Dragon Assignment Writing cutie marks, and went straight for Dragon Wrangling cutie marks. I mean, where did they even find a net in the library?”

The awkward moment forgotten, Pinkie and Spike laughed as he continued to share details of the afternoon.

“And that’s why I came by Sugarcube Corner so late.” Spike finished, as their meal arrived. The conversed quietly through the meal; Rarity was right with her suggestions, the food was wonderful.

“How is your meal?” Lipizzano asked, with a broad smile across his features. “Everything is up to expectations?”

“Yes, it’s amazing.” Spike nodded. “Thank you for the rubies in the panna– umm, salad thing. It was wonderful.”

“Anything for the friends of Rarity. If you have finished, we have a wonderful musician tonight. Vieni vieni, si tratta di una bella notte di ballare con una bella signora.”

“Uhh?”

“To dance! Come, do not leave such a beautiful mare waiting.”

“Oooo! That sounds like fun!” Pinkie giggled excitedly, clapping her hooves together. “Can we Spikey?”

Spike blushed. It was one thing to dance with Pinkie Pie at a party; that was just dancing with Pinkie. This would be dancing with Pinkie. Did she even know there was a difference?

Truth be told, Spike loved dancing, it was one part of his coltilian training he’d enjoyed the most. But dancing didn’t love him. He knew this would lead to somepony getting hurt.

Pinkie stood, and not wanting to be rude, Spike stood to join her. Holding his arm out for her, she laid her forearm over his and he escorted her to the dance floor. He watched the other couples nervously, while several of them watched him back.

“Don’t worry about those frowny-faces, Spikey!”

Spike turned back to Pinkie Pie, her beaming smile nearly stopping his heart in its divine glory. He knew that was an exaggeration, but only just very slightly. He allowed himself to return her smile. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Spike gulped loudly, as Pinkie stood face to face with him and held out her hoof. He gently took her offered hoof in claw, and led her in a slow waltz. He found when dancing, it was important to be acutely aware of where his tail was, it being significantly longer than an average pony's.

But with the beautiful mare in front of him, concentrating on anything but her proved futile.

Spike was impressed with her dancing, he’d always assumed she didn’t know how. She was the pony, after all, who requested the pony-pokey at the Grand Galloping Gala. But here she was, keeping perfect step with him.

Better step than him, actually.

Most of the other dancers had moved away from the two as Spike’s tail had knocked into a dancer or two, while others watched his outstretched claws with nervousness. Every time his nerves would get the better of him, Pinkie would lean in and whisper some encouraging words in his ear.

Whether it was her words, or the warmth of her cheek next to his, Pinkie was able to coax the nervous dragon out of his shell and he started to dance with more confidence. Spike was finally able to enjoy himself, the goofy grin plastered across his face mirrored perfectly by hers. He grinned mischievously as he pulled her in close to his chest. She giggled with delight as he swooped her back into a dip.

They laughed together as they danced with gay abandon.

It was during a particularly wild flourish that Spike’s tail connected with a waiter. The bottle of wine he had been carrying fell to the floor and shattered.

“S-Sorry.” Spike was mortified. He tried to help the waiter, who shooed him away.

“No, va bene. The waiter, he will get it.” Lipizzano had arrived to see what the commotion was. He looked Spike over with a friendly but somewhat strained smile. “Stai bene, amico mio? Come, sit, we will get you some desserts, sì?”

Despite Lipizzano’s warm smile and friendly gestures, Spike was acutely aware that he had been asked to sit down. As they returned to their table, he was glad they were seated at the back, further away from the judging eyes that followed him.

“Aww, I wanted to keep dancing.”

Spike felt a pang of guilt. She could have kept dancing, if it wasn’t for his clumsiness. “It’s my fault. Sorry, Pinkie.”

“It’s okay.” She smiled, back to her usual self. “Ooo, let’s get some cannolis.”

While they waited for the desserts, Pinkie Pie tried cheering him up with some of her Ponyacci jokes. She was juggling colored balls she had pulled from her mane when the waiter returned with their desserts.

“I’m sorry for ruining your night.” Spike sighed. “I guess there is a lot of normal things I can’t do, being a big, stupid drag–”

“You’re not a big stupid dragon. You’re Spikey-wikey. And you haven’t ruined my night.” Pinkie leaned forward and put a dollop of cream on his nose. “So smile.”

Spike let himself laugh. How could he not laugh around Pinkie, she had the wonderful ability to bring anypony out of their doldrums. She was the element of laughter, after all.

There was a light drizzle as Spike walked Pinkie back home. He extended his wing over her, insisting her rainbow umbrella hat would not be enough to keep her dry. She pressed in against his side, enjoying the warmth his dragon biology offered.

She stopped at the door, and turned to him. “I really enjoyed our date tonight,” she blushed as she spoke. “It was lovely, thank you.”

“T-That was a date?” Spike stammered. “What? How? When?”

“I don’t know if it was,” Pinkie Pie giggled, “but I’d like it to be.”

“You– you mean you actually like me?” Spike was in shock. “As in you like like me.”

Pinkie smiled as she nodded.

“Even though I am a dragon?”

Pinkie stepped forward and laid a gentle kiss on his lips, then pulled back. “I like like you. It doesn’t matter to me what you are, because I know who you are.”

Spike held a claw against his lips, unable to believe what had happened, despite the smile growing across his face.

“You can decide where we’ll go on our next date, Spikey.” She smiled as she opened the door. “Good night.”

Several night-owl ponies around Ponyville looked up in surprise at the strange meteorological phenomenon that occurred that night. Witnesses claimed the scheduled rain clouds were lit with bright flashes of green lightning, and the peels of thunder sounded like whoops of excitement.