Tinkerheart set the tray of tea and toasted apple slices on the end table, noting that his lovemate of many years had rolled over and was once again snoring loudly. After three get-out-of-bed-sleepy-head nuzzlings and twenty minutes in the kitchen making breakfast, it was time for her to start paying some attention to him.

He tip-hoofed over to the bed and carefully pulled back the satin sheet luxuriously draped over her thighs, exposing her halo-on-heart cutie mark. Leaning over, he gave Soulheart's generous posterior (a hazard of living two houses down from Sugarcube Corner) a lovey but unignorable nip.

"Arrgh!" she cried out and shot up out of bed, eyes simultaneously wide awake and sleep-filled. She glanced around and saw Tinker's mischievously grinning face.

"Good morning sunshine!" he chirped.

"Damn you!' she swore, collapsing back into bed and dragging a pillow across her face.

"Rise and shine, sugar-rump. It's almost ten o'clock."

"Oh go clop yourself,' she sighed from under the pillow. A few seconds later she emitted a little good morning 'toot' in his direction and he could hear her giggling under the pillow.

Satisfied she really was waking up this time, Tinkerheart trotted into the bathroom to brush his teeth, aware that his morning horsebreath was bad enough to wilt the flowers on the breakfast tray. Fighting his way through the jungle of plants in the bathroom, he studied himself in the mirror. His mane had thinned over the years, and what was left was a lot grayer than it used to be.

Tinkerheart had first met his soulmate–to-be during the big renovation of Town Hall. Princess Celestia was starting her annual rounds of the kingdom and would be visiting Ponyville soon. The mayor had been teased endlessly by the elected officials of Manehattan and Fillydelpha about how "quaintly rural" Ponyville was and how it was "destined to grace the cover of Thatched-Hut Monthly." She was determined to show Her Highness that the rural hospitality of Ponyville could be just as satisfying as anything those uppity-up Manehattanites could offer. Soulheart was helping the Mayor by organizing the workers for the renovation. Tinkerheart had been recruited to renovate the restrooms at the Town Hall, not because he was a plumber, but he was handy with tools and just about the only handyman who hadn't already been drafted for some other task.

When he walked in she was flirting with half a dozen painters, pretending she couldn't decide between color samples. He stood there for a minute, watching her laugh a little too loud and rub shoulders a little too often. Although a flirt, he had to admit she was a really cute flirt and felt a little jealous that he wasn't in on the action. He cleared his throat as politely as he could.

She looked up and noticed him trying to look nonchalant.

"Yes?" she asked, giving him the once over but not able to figure out who he was or why he was there.

"Uh, I'm the plumber, I guess."

"Great. The restrooms are down the hallway on the left." And without another word she was back to teasing the painters.

It was just his luck that the most embarrassing moment of his existence would be the one they would remember the rest of their lives. The restrooms were in terrible shape; half the fixtures didn't work, the commodes wouldn't stop running, and somewhere there was a sewer leak. The next step down would be to just cover it with straw and poop in the middle of the floor. He wasn't much of a plumber, but he could tell the person who had worked on it before him was even less of one. Any pony with half a brain knew that the master shut-off valve was supposed to turn off all water to the restrooms, not just all-the-water-to-the-restrooms-except-the-stallion-commodes.

The explosion shook the first floor of Town Hall.

An hour later a city works crew was departing the building, having stopped the flood. Tinkerheart was hoof-deep in water, double-checking the new shut-off valves he'd just installed. He was going to contact city services and find the name of the hydraulically-challenged hack responsible for the disaster he had just survived.

When she walked in, he was trying to drain the water out of his tool bag, swearing through a mouthful of tools. Water dripped from his ears and underside, bits of plaster were stuck on his sides, and a wad of something she didn't want to describe was stuck to the side of his head. She stood there in the doorway, staring at him like he had just grown three horns.

He blushed a deep, deep crimson, realizing he was in one of those awkward cute-mare-walks-in-on-you-just-after-a-toilet-has-just-blown-up-in-your-face moments. He put down the wrenches he was holding and gave a sheepish grin.

She gave a gigglish-snort, put her hoof in front of her mouth, and broke out into a fit of laughter. He did the same, and for the next five minutes they struggled to catch their breath. Then, in a move most unlike him, he asked her if she wanted to get some tea or something.

Her eyes lit up. "I think I'd like that," she replied, adding "after you take a shower."

He did get cleaned up, and they did have tea later that day, and most days after that for the rest of their lives.

He snapped out of his reverie, and headed back to the bedroom. She still hadn't gotten out of bed, but she lay awake, staring at the play of sunlight on the ceiling. He climbed onto the bed, and she turned, resting her head against his shoulder.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey yourself, stallion," she replied, a smile creeping over her face.

He closed his mouth over hers, and decided maybe it wasn't time to get up, not just yet.

They had dozed off for a couple of hours, basking in that special glow that surrounds ponies after a round of "pillow wresting." Now they were awake, nestled against each other. Tinkerheart's muzzle was buried in her fly-away mane.

"Tinky?"

"Yes?" mumbled the stallion, still pretty deep in the "basking" thing.

"I was over at Sugarcube Corner yesterday."

"I figured you were there." He let out a very contented yawn. "You were gone for a while and then this bag of chocolate muffins mysteriously appeared on the counter." He gave her a playful bump on the back of her neck. "Were you playing with the twins again?"

"Yes; they're so adorable. I read to them while Cup Cake was downstairs working on a monster cake for somepony." Her voice got a kind of far away lilt to it. "They sat on my lap and just stared at me with those big foal eyes..."

Tinkerheart closed his eyes and pressed himself against her a little tighter. For all their happiness, there was one thing missing from their lives: a foal to call their own. For years they had been trying but Soulheart's stable was always empty. Babysitting temporarily fed Soulheart's maternal passion, but in the end she always came home hungry. In their desperation they went to see Zecora, the potion maker, for help. Her words were hopeful, but not comforting:

"A foal in birth I do not see, but loving parents yet you can be," she rhymed in her thick zebra accent.

They held each other for a while, not needing to say anything. Although they were deeply in love, there was still a deep longing in their lives.

Eventually the sun crawled down the wall, past the potted palms, past the planters of tiger lilies covering the dressers, to just where the spotted ivy sprawled onto the carpet from beneath the dragon willow blooms. They both let out heavy sighs, and crawled out of the nest of pillows and sheets they had made. Tinkerheart threw on his tool bags, preparing to head to Sugarcube Corner to find out why their new oven kept burning Pinkie's cupcakes. He ran a comb through his mane again as it had gotten bit tousled while they were busy not-getting-up.

Soulheart stood in front of the mirror, preparing for her day. Radiant as ever, she wore a scarf adorned with scarlet hearts, each one shot through with tiny gold threads that twinkled in the morning sunlight. Rarity had been beside herself with grief after a fire in her shop destroyed a collection of dresses she had been working on for months. Soulheart had spent some time with her, and now she was her old self, hard at work on her next fashonista masterpiece. Rarity hoof-embroidered the beautiful scarf as a token of thanks for all Soulheart's comforting words.

Soulheart was unlike other unicorn ponies. Most ponies' magic emanated from their horn. When they concentrated on a spot in the middle of their forehead, they could move things or sometimes even teleport themselves. Every pony it seemed had a different specialty that made their magic unique.

But Soulheart's magic didn't come from her horn, but her heart. She called it Soul Magic, although Twilight swore she hadn't heard of it in any of her books. When a pony was hurting, she would wrap her legs around them and hold them close. With her eyes closed and her soul open, she would reach out and touch the heart of the other pony. Her warmth would surround both of them and her healing love would restore the hurting heart.

This morning she was off to Fluttershy's place. Word had quickly spread that a wounded animal she had found in woods hadn't made it. The yellow mare, who had nursed so many of the forest creatures back to health, was inconsolable. He knew that sometimes it could take a day or more of talking and hugging to help a pony work through their issues.

Tinkerheart was very proud of the work she did, but he didn't like it when she was away. Once she even travelled to Canterlot for a week to visit Princess Luna. He teased her endlessly about the handsome stallions at court, suggesting some of them might have feigned hurt just to get their hooves on her. Her only reply was a sly wink, "C'mon Tinky, you'll always be the only stallion for me." Then she would get a wistful look in her eye and mutter under her breath, "but some of those royal guards really filled out their armor…" A jealous slap on her rump would usually cap those conversations.

As they headed out the door, she stopped to give him one last deep, soul-searching kiss. They agreed on pasta for dinner, and began their day.