Sparké

Chapters

Chapter 2: Warm Hospitality
Chapter 3: Tender Heart
Chapter 4: Raw Emotions
Chapter 5: Flavorful Emulsions
Chapter 6: Salty Reunion
Chapter 7: Heated Conversation
Chapter 8: Tension à la Mode
Chapter 10: Soul Kitchen - Part 2
Chapter 11: Sweet Memories
Chapter 12: Fresh Start
Chapter 13: A Melding Pot
Chapter 14: Windowlicking
Chapter 15: Finishing Touches
Chapter 16: Filling Up
Chapter 17: First Course
Chapter 18: Perfectly Aged
Chapter 1: Bittersweet Nostalgia
Chapter 9: Soul Kitchen - Part 1

Chapter 2: Warm Hospitality

A ten-year old Peter sat on the couch of his living room as he watched an episode of ReBoot on Cartoon Network. It was a weekend, and his dad would be busy at the restaurant for the day until he returned home later that night. However, there was plenty to do on a Saturday to keep him busy, and the TV in front of him gave him plenty until he would join his friends to play some basketball at the nearby park.

The day was hot, even for the summer. Peter had already finished off two glasses of ice water from the fridge and he knew it wouldn’t be long before he’d have to refill and make some more.

Once a commercial came, Peter grabbed the glass on the table behind him and walked into the kitchen. Standing in front of the fridge, he found the pitcher and grabbed it, pouring in the last drops of water from it, only managing to fill half the cup. Peter shrugged it off, placing the cup on the table/counter and walking the pitcher to the sink.

Peter turned the faucet to its coldest possible setting and watched as the remaining ice cubes in the pitcher swirled around the pitcher and shrunk as the water weathered it down. Once the pitcher was three-quarters filled, Peter carefully carried it back to the counter with both hands. Walking back around to where his glass was, he filled his half-full glass nearly to the brim and put the pitcher back in the fridge.

As Peter took his glass of water back to the living room he took a generous sip to make spillage less possible. As he got off the wood floors and onto the carpet, he suddenly began to feel dizzy. His balance was beginning to falter, causing the water in his glass to rock out and spill onto the floor. Peter, in his reduced state of mind, tried to reach for the water but let go of his glass in the process. The glass thudded to the floor and spilled water all over the carpet.

“Wha…” he slurred. “Whass haffning?”

Looking at his left hand, he saw that it began to glow purple, getting uncomfortably warm as the glowing spread to this arm and his chest. Peter looked desperately for the phone, unsure of what was happening. He found it on a table to the right of the couch.

Peter tried to run for it, but his muscles were useless to him. His foot stepped lazily forwards, but the lack of strength or support caused him to roll his ankle slightly and fall forwards onto his stomach. Peter, using every ounce of strength that he could muster, crawled to the table as he felt the heat cover every inch of his body minus his head.

“Pehp…” he hoarsely screamed, “heeeeehhhlp!”

Peter’s legs were now paralyzed as he could only reach his arm out to the phone. As the brightness over took his face and head, Peter’s vision became brighter and brighter until he could see nothing but white–

========================================

The sting of cold and wet shot Peter awake and caused loud gasping to sound out from his lips. The gasps caused surprised gasps of the others in the forest-green bathroom he found himself in. Peter’s vision was instantly greeted to the orange mare with the cowboy hat. She had a mark on her flank of three red apples. Inside with her, there was an elderly looking mare with an aged-white mane and tail that was tied in a bun with a dripping wooden bucket in her mouth. Her flank mark was that of an apple pie. Lastly, there was a large red stallion with a short orange mane and tail as well as a yoke on his neck. His marking consisted of a large, halved green apple.

Peter was speechless. There was only one place that he knew of that had ponies with these kinds of colors, yet alone those who talked and used terms like “Celestia” and “anypony”. He truly was back in Equestria. He watched as the green mare took the bucket from her mouth and set it down.

“Now, listen here, you varmint!” the raspy voice of the elderly mare warned, shaking her hoof at him. “You’re going to tell us what you are and why you trashed our barn!”

“Listen,” Peter breathed, still winded from what was happening, “I’m sorry about the barn. Just please, I’m having a really hard time right now, and I’m… I’m just… and the car… and my… Jesus! Fuck!”

Peter slammed his fist into the porcelain tub he lied in, a new batch of frustrated tears forming on his face. The orange mare looked back at her two companions with more confusion. Then, she walked up to him and put her hooves over the side of the tub.

“Hey,” she cooed, “don’t worry ‘bout the barn. We’ll get that fixed up in a jiffy. Like I said, I’m just glad nopony was hurt. That would be the biggest tragedy. Now, just start from the beginning. Deep breaths now…”

Peter breathed slowly and more calmly as he was able to gather his thoughts.

“To…” he tried to say. “To answer your questions, I am a creature called a human. My name is also… Peter.”

“Well, I guess it’s nice to meet you Peter. I’m Applejack.”

The orange mare extended a hoof, which Peter shook with growing ease as the pony made him feel more comfortable.

“Applejack, huh? That’s… that’s nice.”

“‘Preciate it,” Applejack said, pulling her hoof back.

“Now, you might not believe a single word I tell you…”

“Try me,” the mare said, looking deep into his eyes with a cocky expression.

Despite himself and his situation, Peter couldn’t help but give a small chuckle.

“That’s better,” Applejack encouraged. “Now, what’s this tall tale that y’all want to tell me?”

“You see. I’m not actually from Equestria. I’m from a world called Earth.”

All three ponies cocked their heads, but stayed silent to let Peter further explain himself.

“Anyways, when I was a boy, I was sent here from a different world. There was an… accident… with a spell, and I lived in Equestria for a year with Celestia as my caretaker. When they found where I had belonged, I was sent back. Now, my pop owns a restaurant in the town where I live. That, along with me making friends with one of Celestia’s personal chefs, inspired me to become a chef myself.

“For years, I saved enough to buy and manage my own restaurant, and I was actually on a trip to the city of Manhattan, which I know sounds a lot like ‘Manehattan,’ hahaha, but I digress. That machine that crashed into your barn is what we humans call a car. Think of it like a carriage that doesn’t have to be pulled by ponies, it’s very large and spacious, and it can go very fast.

“Anyways, I brought all of my cooking stuff and some personal affects with me so I could start my new life and make a new home. However, this fog rolled in during my drive, and the next thing I know, I find that I’m not on the road anymore, and now my car is in your barn. And that’s the long and short of it.”

The three ponies looked at Peter like he was crazy. Peter rolled his eyes and threw his arms up, knowing that this was to be the case.

“So, now I’m stuck here. My car is probably all broken up, you need your barn repaired, and I have absolutely NO idea how I can get back home. How will my… oh no…”

“Oh no, what?” asked Applejack.

“My pop! I promised him I’d call him when I got there. I need to tell him where I am! Could I…?”

Peter flailed out of the bath and felt his pockets as he stood up, sighing in relief to see that the bulge his phone made in his front left pocket was still dry despite his watery wakeup. The three ponies looked at this alien device curiously as he took it out and examined it. Peter stared at the screen for a while before chuckling again.

“I don’t believe it!” he giggled. “I have full coverage out here! How is that–?”

Not taking a second longer to ponder it. He browsed through his phone’s contact list when a thought came to him.

“Wait, what could I even tell him?” he said to himself. “Just the bare details, I guess…”

Peter sat on the edge of the tub as he pushed the icon on the screen that dialed his dad’s home phone. Peter waited impatiently as the dialtone continued to drone on, knowing that his dad wouldn’t answer while he was running his own restaurant back home. Finally…

"Hey, this is Patrick Falwell, sorry I missed your call. Just leave me a me a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks. Buh-bye."

*BEEP*

“Hey pop. I’m just calling to let you know that I’m not in New York yet. Just before you freak out, I want to let you know that I’m perfectly alright. You don’t need to worry. I got into a little accident and I’m staying at a bed and breakfast until I can get the car fixed. I’m not entirely sure when I’ll be back on the road again, but please, just know that I’m safe. I’d love to Skype you, but the internet here is a bit faulty, so please just call me back tomorrow morning. I’m a bit bummed out about the car and will be trying to sleep when you get home, so please don’t rush to call me. I’ll see you later.”

The last sentence seemed to hurt Peter as he pushed the red icon on his phone that ended the call.

“Hey, Pete?” asked Applejack. “Were you just talking to your pa there?”

“Kind of,” he answered with slight melancholy. “This device is called a phone. It allows people to talk to each other at far distances. How I can get him out… here is beyond me.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s kind of hard to explain to you ponies, but there are devices up in space that transfer the calls to the people that you want to talk to. Since those devices don’t exist here, there shouldn’t be any logical way that I should be able to make any calls.”

“Ah’m sure it’s got something to do with magic. In fact, my friend Twilight would go bonkers over meeting something like you.”

Peter’s eyes shot open and he gasped, alerting the orange mare.

“Did you say, ‘Twilight’?” he asked. “As in, ‘Twilight Sparkle?’”

“Yeah,” Applejack said, a bit unnerved. “How did you know her last name?”

“You remember when I said that I was sent here by accident as a boy because of a spell? She was the one who did it! She said she was trying to get accepted into this prestigious magic school and when she did her entrance exam, her magic went haywire, and it seems one of the things that happened was, well, sending me down.”

Applejack looked at Peter with firm skepticism.

“It’s true!” called out the small filly’s voice.

Applejack turned around to reveal the small yellow filly for Peter to see.

“Apple Bloom!” scolded Applejack. “What did I tell you about staying in your room until I told you so?”

“But he’s telling the truth, Applejack!” the filly named Apple Bloom protested. “You remember that day you told me and the Cutie Mark Crusaders how y’all got yer cutie mark? Well, we learned from Twilight how she got hers too!

“She was taking some test and when Rainbow Dash did her sonic rainboom, she freaked out and began usin’ her magic all over the place! The only way for him to know something like that is if Celestia or Twilight told him about it, so he’s gotta’ know who Twilight is!”

Applejack knew well of Twilight’s cutie mark being connected to an entrance exam, but she never heard anything about this “freak-out” of hers. There was no way that Apple Bloom could have known about that as well without Twilight or someone familiar with the incident telling her or being told by this stranger. Two-and-two fit together; Peter had to have been telling the truth.

“Thank you,” Peter said to Apple Bloom, which caused her to smile. “Twilight and I became close friends during the year that I spent there. Celestia even told me she'd have tried to send me back sooner, but she told me that Luna was better at searching the cosmos than she'd ever be. I'll never forget those days; they were certainly among the best of my entire life.”

Applejack looked at Peter quizzically again before she produced a warm smile. Even the green elderly mare and the red stallion, whose faces were locked in a state of caution, were now much more at ease.

“Well,” Applejack said, pressing her hoof into Peter’s hip, “that’s good enough for me! Any friend of Twilight’s is a friend of mine!”

“Yes,” sighed Peter in relief, grabbing Applejack’s hoof and shaking it once again, “thank you for believing me.”

“I see that you’ve met met me and my lil’ sister Apple Bloom over there,” Applejack said, the small filly giving another wave, “so let me introduce you to the rest of my kin! This here is my big brother Big Macintosh…”

“Eeyup!” the red stallion answered with a smiling nod.

“…and this here’s Granny Smith!”

“Howdy do, Pete!” she said, walking slowly up to him to greet him.

Her movements were labored and sluggish, so Peter offered a favor and walked to meet her, picking her hoof up delicately and shaking it.

“Again,” Peter said, “I’m very sorry about wrecking your home, and I’ll do everything in my power to make it up to you.”

“Aw, shucks,” Applejack exclaimed, rubbing the back of her neck with her hoof and blushing, “y’all don’t need to do that. I’m sure by tomorrow afternoon, that barn will be looking newer than a shiny plow!”

“Are you sure?” Peter asked, sounding sheepish and embarrassed as he rubbed his own neck. “Because I don’t see myself getting to Manhattan any time soon, so I should help out a little.”

“Well, I guess you can help us pull that, what was it, car out of the barn?”

“I’ll definitely need to do that, but I’m talking about wood, nail and hammer, paint, that kind of stuff.”

“Again, we know it was an accident, so I don’t think it’s fair for you to go through that trouble for us.”

“Isn’t fair?” chuckled Peter. “I nearly demolished your barn! I think moving my car is the bare minimum of what I should ethically do.”

“Don’t try and use them fancy-schmancy words to try and fool me! Me and my family take care of the barn, so why don’t you and Twilight get together tomorrow and do some stuff? After all, it’s been… how long’s it been?”

“Fourteen years, but that’s beside the point. I don’t even know where she lives!”

“Aw, shoot, she just lives in the town over yonder the hill!”

“Really?” he asked, getting excited. Suddenly, he shook himself out of his excitement and gave the wheel back to logic. “What about the other ponies? I doubt they’ve seen a creature like me before, and I don’t want to waltz in just for them to treat me like I’m a threat.”

“I know you’re not a threat!”

“I appreciate that, but try telling that to dozens, I don’t know… hundreds of terrified townsfolk. There’s a saying back at home that I like: ‘A person is smart, but people are dumb.’”

Applejack, Apple Bloom, and Granny Smith looked at Peter as if he spoke in gibberish.

“It’s an odd saying, I know,” explained Peter, “but this is the gist of it. A person on their own is rational enough to make a smart decision, but when one person in a large group starts to flip out, so do the rest of them; follow the herd.”

“Hmm…” pondered Applejack, taking his words into account. “I can see how that would be bothersome, but don’t get your mane in a tangle, Pete! I’m sure we’ll work something out. Say, Pete, you got a place to sleep tonight?”

“Well,” he said, “I was just planning on sleeping in the back of the car.”

“Hogwash! We’ve got the guest bedroom for you. I ain’t letting you sleep in that busted hunk of scrap!”

“But it’s my busted hump of scrap,” Peter mumbled under his breath, completely out of earshot from Applejack or the other ponies.

“First, you should get out of those wet clothes. I bet they’re mighty uncomfortable.”

“My luggage is in my car. Mind if I go get it?”

“Sure thing,” Applejack spoke as Peter made his way out of the bathroom, “just don’t let me catch you snoozin’ in that car, or I’ll hogtie you myself and wrangle you to the bedroom.”

Peter laughed heartily, more than he thought he should have given his situation. As he settled down, he looked at Applejack with a sincere face.

“You know,” he said, “I forget how unconditionally kind you are to your own kind here. It’s… actually quite refreshing.”

“Why sure, Pete!” she answered. “Wouldn’t your kind do the same?”

Peter turned his head away again.

“Not enough of them,” he said before he went down the hallway and found the stairs.

Applejack was puzzled at Peter’s response, but shook it off soon after.

“Big Mac,” she spoke to her brother, “help me get the bedroom set.”

“Eeyup,” the stallion answered simply.

____________________________________________________________

Peter walked down the hall to the door left open to him. In his right hand, he had a large suitcase. In his left hand, he had the bag for his laptop with a pillow wrapped underneath the arm. Upon entering, he saw a queen-size bed with a comfortable cotton comforter and silky sheets.

“Man,” Peter muttered. “They must treat their guests here like royalty.”

“You like it?” asked Applejack.

Peter quickly turned around to see Applejack looking up to him, smiling with hope that his accommodations were to his liking.

“Very much so,” he replied. “It still baffles me that after I crush your barn, you leave it all to yourself and your family and even give me a bed to sleep in.”

“Well, I know I can’t speak for the rest of all y’all of your kind, but we ponies take care of each other, and if you really are a friend of Twi’s, then you deserve nothing less than the best of our hospitality.”

“Thanks, Applejack. Twilight must be really blessed to have a friend quite like you.”

Applejack chuckled, her head coyishly cocked away and her cheeks blushing profusely.

“Aw, now yer makin’ me blush,” she continued to giggle.

“Anyways, I’m going to get into some PJ’s. Good night, Applejack.”

“‘Night there, Pete.”

Applejack turned and walked down the hallway to let Peter be. Closing the door behind him, he set his suitcase and laptop bag down and threw his pillow on the bed. He then picked up his bags and walked them to the foot of the bed where he set them.

Peter hoisted his suitcase to the bed and unzipped it open. Resting right on top was a pair of grey sweatpants and a beige Allman Brothers t-shirt with a truck carrying a giant peach on the front. Peter put his phone and wallet on the bed, slipped out of his shorts and Amadeus t-shirt, and slipped into the clothes he made for pajamas.

After stuffing the older clothes back into the suitcase, Peter pulled up his laptop case and pulled out a large Macbook from it, sitting at the back of the bed with it. Once he was logged in, he went straight to his iTunes library.

“I might as well listen to some tunes before I go to bed,” he said to himself. “I mean, it’s not like I can use my computer all that much while I’m here.”

That’s when his eyes went straight to the battery icon on the upper right hand corner of the screen. Peter was then confused as he saw the battery being fully green with a lightning symbol in it.

“Huh?” he muttered, peering closer. “And it charges without an adapter either?”

Peter then grabbed his phone and looked at the screen. Sure enough, it too was charging without a cord, as told by the lightning bolt on the battery icon.

“This world will never cease to amaze me.”

There was suddenly a knock on the door.

“Uh, come in,” Peter said, slightly startled.

The door opened and Apple Bloom walked inside.

“Oh, hello Apple Bloom. What are you doing up?”

“I wanted to check on ya’!” the small filly exclaimed. “After all, it’s not every day you meet an alien!”

“Apple Bloom!” shouted Applejack’s voice. “Get to bed and leave Pete be!”

“It’s fine, Applejack,” Peter assured her. “She can hang with me for a few before bed.”

Applejack’s head peered around the jamb of the door, making sure everything was alright.

“Okay, you two,” she said with a smile. “You two have fun, but I’m calling lights out in twenty. That means you too, Pete.”

Peter gave the orange mare a salute that signaled her to leave them be.

“So,” Apple Bloom began, now having her space from her sister, “what’s that thing on the bed?”

“Come on up and I’ll show you,” answered Peter.

Apple Bloom hopped onto the bed, and sat next to Peter’s knee. Once she was settled, Peter showed her.

“This is what we call a computer,” he explained. “This allows us to do a whole bunch of things, like look up information, watch movies, listen to music; the possibilities are endless.”

“You can do all that with this? Wow! Your kind must be incredible!”

“Yes, yes they can be.”

“I don’t think I can get internet here, but considering that I could make a phone call earlier...”

He looked to the Wi-Fi icon on the top of the screen and it showed that he was connected to something. Peter, confused, investigated. Upon getting to the Wi-Fi menu, he looked for the name of the hotspot that he seemed to be connected to, only to find no name there.

“To think,” mused Peter, “Equestria would make a hell of a vacation spot. Come to Equestra!” he silently exclaimed, mimicking a commercial. “Free magical Wi-Fi everywhere and the best coverage you could never get on Earth!”

“What?” asked Apple Bloom.

“Uh, nothing. But… oh! Here, let me show you this!”

Peter opened up Safari and went to the search bar and typed in “New York City.” Upon redirecting to a Google search, a small collection of pictures and a list of websites came up. Peter clicked on the shortcut that led them to Google Images. Apple Bloom was far too stunned as Peter blew through the web as if it were a simple book.

When a much bigger collection of images came up, Apple Bloom was wowed at all of the pictures of Times Square and the Empire State Building that gathered.

“Wow!” she exclaimed. “Was this where you were going?”

“Yes,” answered Peter. “Pretty amazing, huh? Many of the world’s greatest chefs have cooked and owned restaurants here. In fact, let me show you some of the better ones.”

========================================

Peter and Twilight browsed through a picture book of all of the cities of Equestria. Peter was especially wowed by the city called Cloudsdale, which looked to be made entirely of clouds and rivers of rainbows as well as being completely airborne.

“Now there’s a city I wanna’ go to!” sighed Peter.

“You can’t go there, Peter,” Twilight chided. “You’re not a pegasus.”

“I’m sure if you would, you could cast a spell to turn me into one.”

“Don’t be silly! That kind of spell would be way too hard, even if I was a mare!”

“Would not!” Peter mocked.

“Would to!” Twilight responded, her voice completely serious.

“Would not!” continued Peter.

“Would to!”

“Would not!”

“Would to!”

“Would not!”

“Would too to the infinitieth power! Ha! Try beating that!”

Peter merely chuckled and laid down on the floor, confusing Twilight.

“Still,” Peter said, his voice calmer, “it would be nice to get to see these places and not be so cooped up in here all the time.”

“Who knows?” replied Twilight, lying on her side beside Peter. “One day, maybe Celestia will let you.”

“C’mon, Sparky. You’re smarter than that. Those ponies would take one look at me and think that I was a monster.”

“Well, I don’t think you’re a monster.”

Peter turned over and gave Twilight a devious smile. Knowing what she walked into, she began to shudder in fear.

“Oh no…” she muttered.

“I’m not a monster, huh?” Peter asked, his fingers waggling. “We’ll just see about that!”

Twilight tried to get up and run, but Peter was far too quick. He grabbed onto her stomach and quickly brushed the tips of his fingers over her stomach and armpits. Twilight’s terror became incessant giggles as her arms writhed to break free but to no avail.

“Stop!” she screamed through her laughter.

“Tickle monster!” laughed Peter in a sing-song voice. “Tickle monster!”

It was already getting late, and Peter knew better than to get Twilight riled up before bed. He took his hands off of Twilight’s tummy and let her go, allowing her to catch her breath.

“One of these days,” Twilight remarked. “I’m going to learn a teleportation spell so you can’t tickle me anymore.”

“And while you’re at it,” Peter said, standing up, “learn a spell to turn me into a pegasus.”

Twilight huffed, but knowing that it was still all in good fun, gave a small chuckle.

“Well,” Twilight said, “it’s–”

========================================

“Time for bed!” called Applejack through the doorway.

“Aww!” whined Apple Bloom. “Just five more minutes? Peter’s showing me pictures of Mane– I mean, Manhattan!”

“You can look at them some more tomorrow. Right now, you need to get to bed. I don’t want you getting all tuckered out when Sweetie Bell and Scootaloo come over.”

“Alright. G’night, Peter! See y’all in the mornin’!”

Apple Bloom hopped off the bed as she trotted out of the room and to her own.

“She can be a real hoofful sometimes,” Applejack said to Peter.

“Actually,” he remarked. “She was quite pleasant. And what, are Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo her friends or something?”

“Yeah. And just wait until the three of them get together. Then you’ll really be in for a ride!”

“Can’t wait,” he said with slight sarcasm.

“Goodnight now, Pete. Sleep tight.”

“You too.”

Applejack shut the door behind her. Peter knew that tomorrow would be a busy morning for him as well. It seemed that neither Applejack nor her family would accept much help for the barn that he ruined, but knowing a family of farmers, they’d probably get up early to do any other work. It would be then that he’d repay them in his own special way.

Not to mention, his news to his dad would be of cause for alarm. He knew he was to expect a call early in the morning.

Peter turned his laptop off and slid it under the bed. He then put his phone on a table to his right and settled down onto the bed. It was too warm for covers, so he lied stomach-down on top of them with his head snugly into the pilow. He knew his father would be worrying about him over not being in New York, but considering where he was and who he knew, he couldn’t exactly complain.

His thoughts troubled him less and less as his mind drifted further and further into sleep.

Chapter 3: Tender Heart

Peter woke up in a room that looked to be made entirely from marble. He gripped onto his head with one hand, his temples hurting. He took a second to observe his surroundings before he came across the only other thing inside the room: a white alicorn with a flowing mane of four-different colors.

Peter couldn’t help but be confused at the horse that stood before him. He then wondered why it had a horn stuck on its head or wings attached to her back, or how its mane moved constantly. However, it was the next action the brought Pete over the edge.

“Hello there,” she spoke. “It seems you’re finally up.”

Peter screamed and crawled backwards towards the wall. Even as his body slid into it, Peter continued to push, hoping that by some miracle that he could break free and run. The alicorn just looked at the small child with a confused glare.

“You…” stuttered Peter. “You just talked?”

“So you can speak in pony too,” she commented.

“What? You’re a horse! Horses can’t talk!”

“For your information, young one, I am a pony, not a horse, and yes, ponies can talk.”

“Just… where am I? Who are you? What are you?”

“I suppose you deserve an answer to your questions,” she said with a sigh. “My name is Princess Celestia. I am an alicorn, and you are currently in a maximum security holding cell that we save for more… unruly creatures.”

“What? Cell? I’m in jail?!?”

Celestia couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Stop laughing at me! Let me go, or I’ll–”

“Relax, young one. I can be the first to tell you that you are not in prison and you are certainly not in trouble.”

Despite this news, Peter continued to breathe heavily.

“Forgive me for saying so,” Celestia said, “but you appear to me as if you’ve never seen a pony before.”

Peter couldn’t help but look at the pony as if she was insulting his intelligence.

“Of course I’ve seen ponies before! But they don’t talk where I come from! Is that horn or those wings even real?”

To answer his question, Celestia, flared her wings open. This action startled Pete into screaming again.

“I can assume that your ponies don’t have wings or horns either?” she asked.

“N– n– n– n– no,” Peter stammered.

“Then I’d be curious to know where you come from if you’ve never seen either a unicorn or a pegasus before.”

“I’m from Earth!” Peter answered. “Wait, is that it? Are you an alien? Did I just get abducted?”

“My my,” giggled Celestia again, “you certainly have a vivid imagination.”

“Stop it! I’m being serious!”

“Forgive me,” spoke Celestia. “I’ve never seen anything, or anyone, for that matter, quite like you. I’m going to guess that you are a child?”

“Not really! I’m ten!”

“I’d say that’s just still about colt-age in my book. But, I think I’m getting ahead of myself. May I please have your name?”

Peter cuddled towards himself, scared of the intentions of Celestia’s questioning. The white alicorn gently walked up to him, Peter cowering further into himself as her hoofsteps came closer. Peter’s eyes were shut as hard as they could be. Celestia, in pity, sat on her four legs and unfurled her left wing.

Peter suddenly felt the wing caress itself around his body, the unnatural softness easing him into slowly opening his eyes. He saw as Celestia was knelt before him, looking deep into his eyes with an expression that assured him that everything would be alright.

Peter’s fear of this creature was now completely eroded away, but he was still a stranger in a strange land, and he was far from home. Peter broke down into tears and wailed into his balled fists.

“Please,” he cried. “I just want to go home. Please. Take me back home.”

Celestia couldn’t stand to see this boy in such a state, but her greatest sadness came from knowing that she could not fulfill his wish.

“I’m sorry,” she cooed, brushing her face against his and wiping the tears that ran down his cheeks. “I certainly would if I could, but I’d have no idea where your home is.”

Peter was too scared and weak to fight back, and it only caused him to weep harder.

“I just…” he sobbed as he hyperventilated. “I wanna’ see my pop.”

“I know you do. But please, I want nothing more than to return you to your father, and we’re trying our best to find your home…”

A great anger rose in Peter as he shot up to his knees and tried to push Celestia back. His sudden actions forced her into retreated back to the exit of the room.

“Then try harder, you stupid pony!” Peter screamed. “Take me home, now!”

Peter ran out to Celestia to attack her again, but ran into an invisible wall that glowed yellow upon contact. The force knocked Peter to his rump, causing another torrent of tears. The invisible wall made Peter’s hyperventilation more violent, fearful of the unknown barrier.

“I understand that you’re upset,” Celestia reasoned to the terrified boy, “and I know how much you wish to return home. Please understand that I’m doing everything in my power and knowledge to find your home, but I couldn’t tell you how long that will take.”

“You’re going to take me there now!” shouted Peter.

“You’re still very upset,” Celestia answered. “I do have other things to attend to, so I’ll give you some space and time to calm down…”

“NO! I wanna’ go home!”

“…and once you’ve calmed down, I can try and explain more to you and you can tell me who and what you are…”

“Stop! You can’t leave me here!”

“…but you need to settle down first.”

“Wait!” Peter shouted as Celestia opened the door with her magic and quickly closed and locked it before Peter could try and escape. “Come back! Take me home! I wanna’ go home. I want my pop! I WANNA’ SEE MY POP!!”

========================================

The sound of the opening to the second movement of Beethoven’s 9th Symphony woke Peter out of his sleep. The notes repeated over and over again. The room was still dark, but that wasn’t important now. Peter knew it was his dad, and he knew that he’d want to hear from his son as quickly as possible. Peter quickly rolled over to the table where his phone was and hit the green phone icon before putting the phone to his ear.

“Hey pop,” grunted Peter, his voice still a bit groggy.

“Hey pop?” questioned his dad. “What the hell happened to you, and why aren’t you in New York?”

“Well, you see,” Peter tried to improvise. “I went to fill up for gas and when I got back in my car… it wouldn’t start.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I had a guy come up and try to kickstart it, but it didn’t work. There was a nearby garage that the guy worked at and he said he could hold onto it for the night until they opened up the next morning.”

“So you left it at a garage? With all of your shit unattended?”

“Pop, I had the keys to my car and the trailer; he wasn’t going to break in.”

“He has tools you know.”

“Pop, he’s a car mechanic, not Danny Ocean. Besides, I checked into a motel right across the street so I could keep an eye on it at all times.”

“Is it there now?”

“Hold on, let me check.”

Peter got up off the bed and walked around in a circle to pretend to walk to the motel window.

“Yeah, it’s there.”

“Well, that doesn’t guarantee that nothing’s missing.”

“I’ll go check on it right after I hang up. If you don’t hear from me, just assume that there isn’t a hair out of place.”

“I’d really like you to do that now. There’s a lot of money in that case of yours and I’d hate for you to lose it.”

“I know, I know. But that guy didn’t seem like a car-thief.”

“The best thieves never do.”

“Pop, I know you’re worried about me and shit, especially after… you know, but pop, I told you last night that I was fine, didn’t I? And I wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave thousands of dollars unattended if I knew they’d have a good chance of being stolen.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I probably am.”

“…So, now what?”

“The guy said the garage opens at nine, and I’ll spend all day there until he fixes the car. Hopefully, it can get cleared up right away and I can get back on the road before lunch.”

"Okay then. And you have enough money?”

“Puh-lenty.”

“Alright then. I’m going to hop into the shower and wake up. I was up all night thinking about you.”

“Really? Even after I said I was fine?”

“…Well, you didn’t give me many details…”

“Was, ‘I’m okay,’ not enough of a detail for you?”

“Alright, then. I’m glad you’re fine. I just hope not to hear from you soon about anything stolen.”

“I’m sure you won’t. Have a good day at work.”

“Thanks. Good luck with your car. Please give me an update before lunchtime. I love you.”

“I love you too, pop.”

“Buh-bye.”

“Bye.”

Peter put his phone back on the table. As he gave his arms and legs a much needed stretch, he heard the door open, causing him to turn quickly around. He looked to see Applejack standing in the doorway with a confused look on her face.

“I thought I heard somepony up,” she spoke. “What are you doing up so early, Pete?”

“Pop gave me a call back. He just wanted to make sure I’m okay.”

“And that’s just what you told him, right?”

“Yeah, but to be fair, he became very concerned about me ever since I disappeared from my world and back to Equestria. I had to make sure he knew I was okay. There are only so many lies I can tell.”

“Lies?” What lies?”

“Well, I can’t just tell him, ‘Hey pop, I just got transported to a world of magical talking ponies!’ Not only would that sound crazy to him, but it would be in very bad taste.”

“So what did you tell him?”

“That my car failed and that I was taking it to a mechanic until they can fix it.”

“Oh, I see…”

“Well, I did find out last night that I can access the internet on this world, so I was planning on Skyping him sometime in the near future. Again, there’s only so many times I can tell him, ‘Whoops! I didn’t make it to New York… again!’”

“New York? But ah thought you said y’all were goin’ to–”

“Manhattan is one of the four sub-cities of New York City.”

“Okay. I think I get it, but what in the hay is ‘Skypin’?’”

“It’s like a phone call, but you can actually see the person you’re talking to.”

“Well, there ya’ go! That will make it easier to tell the truth, especially when he can see and hear us.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know how he will handle it.”

“What do ya’ mean?”

“I can’t keep stalling to tell my dad that I’m in another world, but even if I tell him, he might break down again.”

“Break down?”

“My pop has not had the easiest of lives,” Peter answered. “A few weeks after my mother gave birth to me, she died of an aneurysm, so he was stuck raising me all by myself.”

“Oh my… I’m so sorry, Pete.”

“I never really knew her, but from what pop told me when I was older, when I had disappeared from Equestria, he thought he had lost everything. I mean, imagine coming home one day and Big Macintosh, Granny Smith, and Apple Bloom just vanished from your life without a trace. You don’t know where they are, if they’re alive or not, or whether you’ll ever see them again, dead or alive.”

The situation, as nonexistent as it was, visibly hurt Applejack. It was clear that having lost someone close and then losing another loved one would destroy anyone from the inside out.

“If my pop finds out that I’m gone again, that could just be the end of him. I don’t want to put him through that pain again.”

Applejack walked over to Peter and nuzzled her nose into his hand.

“Well,” admitted Applejack, looking up at him, “I can see how that can be scary for you, but I don’t think it’s as bad as you’re makin’ it out to be.”

“Huh?”

“Well, think of it like this. When you got sent here the first time around, you didn’t have any of these fancy whirlymajiggers to tell your dad you were okay, did you?”

“…No.”

“Well, now that you do, I bet that even if you’re here, as long as he can see that you’re okay, I think he’ll be just fine.”

Peter smiled. The prospect of telling his father the truth didn’t feel as bleak anymore.

“Thanks, Applejack,” Peter said, scratching behind the pony’s ears.

“Huhuhuhuhu…” shuddered Applejack in a state of pure bliss.

“Heh. I still got it,” he muttered to himself, before he raised his voice to a conversational tone. “Applejack, now what are you doing up?”

“It ain’t got nothin’ to do with that car of yers if that’s what yer askin’. Remember those two fillies I was talking about before bed last night?”

“Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, right?”

“Yeah. Good memory. But anyways, I’m heading over to Ponyville to pick them up so they can have breakfast with us.”

“Great. I haven’t had a country-style breakfast in a long time. You mind if I help?”

“Help? What in Equestria do you want to help for?”

“I still feel like I’m getting off too easy for trashing the barn…”

Applejack glared at him for his insistence.

“Let me finish!” he exclaimed. “At the very, very least let me cook breakfast for you. I guarantee you that you won’t be disappointed.”

Applejack pondered this some more. It seemed that Peter was set on helping out more than just moving his car, and she was very interested to see how good of a chef he was.

“Alright,” she said, “you got yerself a deal!”

She spit in her hoof and held it out for Pete to shake. Peter surprised the orange mare by immediately taking her spittle-dripped hoof and shaking in agreement. Upon letting go, he wiped his hand on his shirt and began to walk to his suitcase.

“I’m going to take a bath now,” Peter stated. “I like to be clean when I cook.”

“Take as much time as you need, sugar,” responded Applejack. “Any ideas as to what you’re cookin’?”

Peter turned to face Applejack from the hall as he grabbed a bar of soap and a travel sized shampoo as well as a change of clothes.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Is there something in particular that you like to eat on a day like today?”

“Surprise us.”

“Are you sure? I can get pretty ‘fancy-schmancy’ sometimes.”

“Hey, as long as it can fill our bellies, I’ll try whatever you make. Granny Smith can help you around the kitchen if you’re lost.”

“Thanks a lot, Applejack. Have fun getting the girls.”

“I’ll certainly try,” she said in a slightly unsure tone.

With that, Peter walked out of the room, down the hallway, and to the bathroom, closing the door on his way out.

____________________________________________________________

Granny Smith was in the kitchen putting pans on the stove when Peter came down. He was wearing a pair of baggy dark-blue jeans and a black shirt with the Rock Band keyboard logo on it. His hair was pulled back and put into another ponytail. Now that he was up and washed, he also looked far chipper, especially as he walked into the kitchen.

“Well hello, Sonny!” greeted Granny Smith. “Applejack said you were makin’ us breakfast, so I’m just gatherin’ some pots and pans for y’all.”

“That’s very nice of you, Granny Smith,” he answered, “but if you could help me gather the ingredients now, that would be splendid.”

“Sure thing! What’cha makin’?”

“I figured a farmer family could use a hearty breakfast, so I was thinking of poached eggs on potato pancakes with hollandaise sauce with a side of cheddar-and-chive grits and warm, cinnamon apples.”

“Woo-wee! Sounds like you’ve got everything under control. Follow me, you whippersnapper, I’ll bring y’all to the chicken coops!”

Granny Smith walked out of the kitchen and out the front door, Peter following close behind.

____________________________________________________________

Applejack walked through the streets of Ponyville. The sun was now shining bright over the land, the ponies now going about their daily business. Applejack had two fillies at her side. One was a white unicorn with a curly pink and purple mane. The other was an orange pegasus with a cropped purple mane. Neither of them had markings on their rumps like Applejack did.

“Where are we going?” asked the unicorn filly. “This isn’t the way to Sweet Apple Acres!”

“I know it ain’t, but I wanna’ make a quick stop first.”

As Applejack and the fillies turned, they went straight to Applejack’s intended destination: a decently sized building made out of a tree.

____________________________________________________________

Peter mixed mashed potatoes, minced onion, spices, and eggs into a large metal bowl, folding the mixture in with each turn of his spoon. Several of Peter’s knives were scattered over the counter. Meanwhile, Granny Smith arrived back with a large basket of eggs with her mouth on the handle and placed them on the table.

“Now,” asked Peter, “exactly how many ponies am I cooking for?”

“Let’s see,” thought Granny Smith aloud, “we got you, Applejack, Apple Bloom, Big Macintosh, yours truly, as well as Apple Bloom’s two friends and a couple of Applejack’s friends from Ponyville.”

The last one mentioned was a mild shock to Peter.

“Really?” he asked. “Who are they?”

“Eh… can’t say I remember, but I’m sure they’ll be really glad to meet ya’.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Me too.”

Peter resumed mixing the potatoes.

____________________________________________________________

Applejack knocked on the door of the tree house. After only a couple of seconds, a mare answered the door. With her lavender coat and Hime-cut, it was obvious to Applejack and the fillies that it was Twilight Sparkle.

“Oh,” she exclaimed. “Good morning, Applejack! Hello, Sweetie Belle,” she said to the unicorn. “Hello, Scootaloo,” she greeted to the pegasus.

“Hi, Twilight!” the two fillies answered back.

“What are you doing here?” asked Twilight.

“You ain’t gonna’ believe this,” Applejack said, rubbing her neck with her hoof, “but some strange critter crashed into our barn last night.”

“Oh, gosh! I’m so sorry! Is anypony hurt?”

“No, thank goodness. However, this thing ain’t anything like I’ve seen before! It’s tall, it ain’t got no hair ‘cept on his head, and it runs around wearing clothes, and it came in this weird machine that ran into the barn.”

“Huh!?” Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo shouted.

Twilight gasped at the description of the creature. It was all too familiar with a creature that she had met long ago. However, because of her past experience, she seemed more determined than frightened.

“You brought an alien into your home?” shouted Scootaloo.

“It’s okay, girls,” Twilight assured them. “I think I know what this is, and if it’s anything like the one I’ve seen, you should be just fine.”

“Phew” asked Applejack, trying to sound as genuinely relieved as she could without breaking her fib. “That’s a relief. Can you still come and help us out? We’ll make breakfast for you and everything.”

“Really? That’s so nice of you. Sure, I’ll be ready in a jiffy. Just let me call Spike.”

Twilight ran back inside and closed the door. Unbeknownst to the fillies, Applejack gave a gleeful smile, excited for the reunion she was setting up.

========================================

Peter watched as Crème Fraiche whisked the egg yolk, white-wine vinegar, and Dijon mustard in a glass bowl that sat above a pot of hot water. Peter watched with careful observation as she slowly added the last of the butter to the mixture, all while continuing to mix.

“You see,” Crème instructed, “hollandaise sauce, while easy to prepare, is quite difficult to make. You have to keep the heat of the water very low, otherwise, your yolks will harden and the sauce will become chunky. Also, you must be careful with your butter. If you add in too much too fast, the butter and the vinegar will separate.”

Peter sighed dreamily. He could listen to Crème Fraiche’s lectures for hours on end.

“Cooking is very hard work, but with enough diligence and concentration…” finished Crème as she removed the bowl from the pot and held it in front of him.

Peter knew this cue, and he placed his finger into the sauce, brought it to his mouth, and sucked it dry. Peter’s eyes closed and a pert smile appeared on his face.

“…you can make the most delicious of foods.”

As Crème took the bowl back, she ladled a heaping amount of the sauce and poured them over a platter of steaming asparagus stalks.

“Perhaps I can let you prepare the sauce next time,” said Crème with an encouraging tone.

“Eh, not yet,” Peter admitted. “I don’t think I’ll ever make hollandaise as good as you.”

“Don’t belittle yourself, Peter,” she spoke as she lifted the platter off the counter. “If you truly love to cook, and if you love eating delicious food, I guarantee you that your hollandaise sauce could even be greater than mine.”

Peter smiled warmly as Crème walked towards the exit of the kitchen and out to Princess Celestia’s dining hall. Remembering that he was standing, Peter jogged up ahead, wanting to catch up with her.

========================================

Peter had all that he needed on the counter: a bowl of separated egg yolks in a glass bowl, a large mound of churned-cream butter, and a bottle of Dijon mustard and white-wine vinegar from the trailer. There was also a bowl of untouched eggs next to a smaller bowl of chopped chives to the right of it. Peter picked up the bottle of vinegar from the counter and tossed it into the air, catching it in his hand.

“Thank God for bubble wrap,” he stated.

In the sink, the pot that boiled the potatoes, the knives that cut the onions and chives, and the grater that shredded the cheese were sitting in soapy water.

He then looked to the stove. In a saucepan on one burner, the grits were cooking and could sit until they needed to be served. In a large skillet, a small pool of oil was heating up for the potato pancakes. On the other two burners in the front were two large saucepans with simmering water. In the oven below the pots and pans, a casserole dish of sliced apples in a cinnamon and brown sugar syrup heated up.

Seeing every little bit working together in synch like a grand symphony brought a joyous smile to Peter. He could only imagine what Applejack and her family would think once they took their first bites.

Peter went to the table to grab his glass of orange juice, taking two greedy gulps before setting it back down. Once Applejack arrived with the girls and her friend, he’d begin on the hollandaise sauce. He knew it could sit while he poached the eggs and fried up the potato pancakes. The grits and apples were finished and only needed to be served once everything was done.

“This is going to be one hell of a breakfast,” commented Peter to himself.

Suddenly, he heard voices coming up to the front door. It seemed that Applejack was having a conversation about the barn.

“…can’t believe that happened. I’ve never seen a machine like that. I sure hope he’s sorry,” spoke the voice of Twilight, which Peter didn’t seem to recognize.

“Don’t worry,” Applejack assured her, “he’s awful sorry about it. In fact, he’s makin’ it up by makin’ us breakfast.”

“He’s making breakfast?” she asked, the opening of the door increasing the volume of the voices. “Applejack, you have to be careful. You don’t know him or what he’s capable of.”

Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle ran into the house and looked in the kitchen to see the creature making breakfast. The two were instantly awestruck by its appearance, staring at it in wide-eyed wonder.

“No,” answered Applejack to Twilight’s statement, “but from what I hear, you do.”

A small, purple, bipedal reptile with green back-scales and green underbelly walked into the room as well, peering into the kitchen to see the creature, only to look upon Peter with the same shock that the fillies had.

“I do?” asked Twilight, looking into the kitchen, “what do you–”

Twilight froze upon seeing the back of the human’s body in the kitchen. Clearly, she was stunned by it just standing there nonchalantly. Once Peter had placed his hand above the oil in the skillet to test the temperature, he turned around to greet Applejack’s guests. While he scanned upon Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Spike, his eyes locked on to Twilight almost immediately.

Peter’s eyes went wide and his lips parted, letting in a loud, audible gasp. While Twilight couldn’t recognize Peter from the back, the second she saw his face, her eyes widened too and her mouth went wide open. It was the first time in fifteen years that either of them had seen each other, and the nostalgia was beginning to drown the two of them.

Twilight clenched her teeth as her eyes began to water. Peter’s hands were cupped over his mouth as two tears rolled off of his eyes and ran down his fingers.

“Peter?” stammered Twilight, her voice cracking due to the emotional weight. “Is that you?”

Peter’s heart soared upon hearing his old friend call his name again. His hands took themselves off of his face, revealing a tearful and elated smiled as he made a noise between a chuckle and a sob, trying his best to find the right words.

“Hey, Sparky.”

Chapter 4: Raw Emotions

Peter huddled himself into the corner of the marble cell. He had been crying for hours on end. It seemed no matter how much time passed or what pain he was in, he would not be able to return home to his dad. Even as the door opened up and Celestia came into the room, he was far too tired and demoralized to fight any longer.

“It’s almost time for supper,” Celestia said. “You’re free to join us, or would you like a bit more time to yourself?”

Peter slowly stood up, allowing Celestia to see his face, his cheeks puffy and his eyes blisteringly red from his crying. He began to walk up to Celestia, his body swooning with each step that he took. Once he was in reach of her, Peter wrapped his arms around Princess Celestia’s arm and sobbed once again.

Celestia knew he was still frail and needed some comfort now. She unfurled her right wing and covered Peter’s back with it.

“There, there,” she cooed. “I know it must be frightening to be so far away from home like you are, but if you desire, I shall make this palace your home until I can send you back.”

“Send me back?” Peter asked, looking up.

“Of course. I might not be able to send you back now, tomorrow, or even next week, but I promise you that I will do everything in my power to see to it that you be returned. This I swear on my life.”

“Th… thank you,” he stuttered.

“Now,” Celestia said, looking back at Peter, “would you mind telling me your name.”

“Peter. Peter Falwell.”

“Alright, young Peter. Come with me. Supper shall be ready soon.”

____________________________________________________________

Peter was taken to a large dining room. It was late in the afternoon, and the orange sun was set in the sky as its light streamed through the windows. At a long, candlelit table, sat only one pony. It was Twilight as a filly. She sat bored with her head on the table. Upon hearing Celestia’s hoofsteps, she turned and saw a bipedal creature following her.

Twilight looked at the young boy as if she would a rare species of insect, unsure by what it was, but intrigued by its appearance.

“Princess Celestia?” asked Twilight. “What’s with the ape following you around?”

Peter looked at her with a mixture of sadness and anger, heavily hurt by her remark. The look frightened Twilight as she shied away in her seat.

“Twilight!” scolded Celestia. “This is the creature you brought here when you lost control of your magic during your entrance exam. He’s lost, scared, and alone. I think you owe him an apology.”

Twilight could definitely see that Peter was all of the things her teacher mentioned above, but she wasn’t sure how far his intelligence extended.

“I’m sorry… um, do you even have a name?”

“Yes,” answered Peter, his fluent speech shocking Twilight. “My name is Peter, and I am a human, not an ape.”

“Well,” Celestia remarked, “I see we got that out of the way. Peter, would you be so kind as to take a seat next to Twilight?”

Peter briskly walked around the table to seat himself next to Twilight as Celestia took her seat across the table from them.

“What…” asked Peter. “What are we having?”

“I’m unsure about the diets of your species,” spoke Celestia as she wrapped her napkin around her neck like a bib, “but I’m sure that we’ll get to know much more about you in the next couple of days.”

“You mean,” Twilight wondered, “like a science project?”

“Twilight, Peter here is not going to be treated like a common lab rat. It seems that he’s as intelligent as you or I, so he shall be treated as such. Do I make myself clear?”

“Okay, Princess. I got it.”

“Peter, do you like tomato soup?”

Peter was still a bit nervous by his new surroundings, but he gave a slight smile and nod, showing his gratitude.

“Fabulous. I’m sure my chef will be out very shortly.”

Twilight took a look back at Peter. If he was as intelligent as he claimed to be, perhaps she could get some answers about him.

“So where do you even come from?” she asked like a mad-dog reporter.

“I’m from a planet called Earth. You?”

“This is the land of Equestria on the planet Equus. Now, what are those claws on your hooves?”

“Huh?” Peter asked, almost as if he was offended. “These aren’t hooves,” he said, putting both palms out in front of Twilight’s face, “these are hands, and these ‘claws’ are called fingers!”

“Twilight! Peter!” hissed Celestia. “The soup’s here.”

Peter watched as the white mare that he would know as Crème Fraiche came in with three bowls in her magical grasp filled with red, hot broth that were garnished in the center with a small basil leaf. Crème couldn’t help but stare at Peter as she gave her soup to the three of them. Peter was amazed at seeing his soup being levitated out to him like that.

“So this is the creature you were talking about,” Crème said with slight suspicion.

“Crème,” introduced Celestia, “this is Peter. He will be staying with us for a while. Please treat him like you would any other pony.”

Crème looked at Peter again, who coyly put his hand up as if to say, “Hi.”

“Well, Peter,” she responded calmly as she put her hoof to her heart, “I’m honored to make your acquaintance. If you need anything, anything at all, do not hesitate to ask.”

Peter nodded in conformation.

“Enjoy your soups, everypony.”

“Thank you, Crème,” Celestia spoke. “You may leave now.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

Crème Fraiche walked out of the hall to leave the two ponies and the human in peace.

“So,” Twilight said, “your name is Peter. Well, my name is–”

========================================

“Twilight,” Peter sighed again as he saw the familiar unicorn in Applejack’s foyer.

Twilight couldn’t stand it any longer. With a choked inhale, she galloped towards Peter, who put his arms up for her. Twilight leapt up and dove towards Peter, who caught her around the waist and held her close in a warm hug. Twilight had her own arms wrapped around Peter’s back over his shoulders as her legs squeezed his waist. Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and the purple reptile looked upon the two with sheer confusion as Twilight sobbed into Peter’s neck while Applejack smiled happily.

“Peter!” she cried. “I can’t believe you’re here! I thought I’d never see you again!”

“Me too,” Peter exclaimed, his tears also running down. “I missed you so much.”

“Uh, excuse me?” asked the reptile, confused. “Could someone explain what’s going on?”

“That guy that’s huggin’ Twilight,” Applejack whispered to him, “came to Equestria from another world when they were foals. He was sent back but now he’s here again.”

“Oh!” Spike exclaimed, seeming to get it. “…Wait, what?”

“Sweetie Belle!” happily shouted Apple Bloom’s voice from the top of the stairs as she ran down. “Scootaloo!”

She stood by them only to see them affixed on Twilight and Peter.

“Oh!” exclaimed Apple Bloom, pointing to the human with her hoof. “Have you guys met Peter yet?”

Twilight eventually let go and set herself back down on her hooves. Peter knelt down and gave Twilight another hug, this time putting his arms around her neck and nuzzling his cheek into hers. Twilight returned his affections, rubbing the side of his head and hair with her head as Peter stroked Twilight’s back. Peter stood back up and smiled brightly, putting his arms up as if to showcase Twilight to her self.

“Look at how big you got!” he exclaimed.

“You’re so much taller!” Twilight shouted. “And you look so much older!”

“What are you even doing here? How did you–”

It suddenly hit Twilight.

“You crashed that thing into the Apples’ barn?”

“It’s a long story, Twi, and I think I’ll explain it to you, and the girls in the livin’ room while Pete keeps making breakfast.”

“Uh, okay?”

“Come on,” beckoned Applejack. “Let’s leave Pete be.”

As the three fillies and Spike were ushered out of the room by Applejack, Twilight gave Peter a warm and happy smile, glad for him to be back in her life again. She then trotted down to follow Applejack and listen to the story of how he appeared. Peter sighed, also happy to be able to meet Twilight again. With little time left to waste, he took a heaping spoonful of the potato batter and gently plopped it into the hot oil, the sound of sizzling instantly cracking throughout the air.

____________________________________________________________

Peter carefully picked up the potato pancakes from the skillet and placed them upon a towel for the oil to drain. The hollandaise sauce was finished and sitting off on the side, still hot and fluid. The poached eggs were floating inside the saucepans like tadpole eggs, barely leaving any room to fit. But they’d be done soon as well.

Peter then placed potato pancakes on several plates set on the counter. There were two potato pancakes for himself, Applejack, Twilight, and Granny Smith, one single pancake for the fillies and Spike, and three for Big Macintosh. With that finished, Peter used a slotted spoon to pick up each of the eggs and place them on top of each pancake with delicacy. The hollandaise sauce was generously drizzled over each egg as it flooded onto the plate. Finally, each of the eggs were dusted with a touch of chives.

After putting the two saucepans of water in the sink, Peter then pulled the apples from the oven, taking in a hefty whiff as he set them down on the two vacant burners, remembering to turn the heat off. Peter grabbed the saucepan of grits and a wooden spoon as he put a decent scoop on each plate next to the eggs. Lastly, a few slices of warm apples were placed on the last free spaces of the plates.

In the living room, Twilight and Applejack were finishing explaining Peter and the history that they knew of him to the fillies and Spike.

“I haven’t seen him since then,” Twilight said. “And frankly, neither has Princess Celestia or Crème Fraiche.”

“Say!” Applejack suggested. “Maybe you should take Peter over to Canterlot. Not only would they like to see Peter, but maybe they can help him bring him back home.”

“Yeah,” Twilight, now a bit downtrodden with her ears drooping. “Home…”

“Twilight!” called Peter. “You mind helping me carry the food to the dining room?”

“Sure thing!” called in Twilight.

She eagerly galloped to the kitchen with a noticeable smile on her face.

“Wow,” Sweetie Belle said, “she really must have been close to him.”

“I’m sure you’d be actin’ the same way if you didn’t see one of yer friends in almost fifteen years,” Applejack responded.

“That’s true…”

“Enough of that!” Spike shouted, patting his tummy. “Didn’t you hear? Breakfast is ready!”

“Awesome!” exclaimed Scootaloo, as she ran to the dining room, followed by her two friends.

Applejack shook her head with a smirk, amused by their innocent rudeness. She then trotted into the kitchen to help Peter and Twilight with whatever they needed.

____________________________________________________________

Granny Smith was the last pony to be served her food before Peter sat at his seat with his. At the long, dining room table, Granny Smith sat one end, and encircling the table in a counter-clockwise fashion, there was Peter, Twilight, Spike, Applejack at the other end, and then Big Macintosh, Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle with Granny Smith to her right.

On in the centers of each half of the table were full pitchers of orange juice, which Peter was all but happy to pour for himself. Peter, Twilight, and Spike had a fork and knife on both sides of their plates while the Apples and the fillies each had a knife. A red-and-white checkerboard decaled cloth was wrapped around everyone’s necks like a bib.

Each member of the Apple family was panting slightly at the scent that rolled off their plates in wisps of buttery steam, waiting for Granny Smith to allow everyone to eat. Twilight turned to Peter and nudged his thigh with her hoof. Peter turned to face her.

“Peter,” she whispered. “I think you did a good job. Everything looks delicious!”

“Well,” declared Granny Smith. “No use in keeping y’all waitin’! Dig in, everypony!”

As Peter slowly cut a slice of egg and potato pancake, he watched as Twilight used her magic to lift her utensils and cut a sizable amout of egg and potato pancake. Peter watched as the yolks oozed out from her puncture and began to run onto the plate. Twilight took her large morsel and dipped it into the yolk for good measure. Peter saw as Twilight lifted the fork into her mouth, slid the food off inside with her lips and chewed.

Peter was engorged with happiness to see Twilight smile and blush as she continued to savor her food. Applejack had finished cutting a triangular-shaped bite with the knife that she held in her teeth. She then set it back down and put her face to the piece she had cut. Applejack scooped up the pancake, egg, yolk and sauce with her tongue and put it all in her mouth.

Big Macintosh, Granny Smith, and the fillies did the same as Applejack while Spike voraciously cut his food with his fork, speared it, and shoveling it into his mouth at a morsel every couple of seconds.

However, by the pleasurable looks on every mare, stallion, and filly at the table, it seemed to a content Peter that his breakfast went successfully.

“Oh, Peter,” sighed Twilight, “this is absolutely delicious. Oh, just wait until Celestia or Crème Fraiche sees how you’ve grown.”

The thought had never occurred to Peter. Now that he was here, not only could he could meet his adoptive mother, but he could also reunite with his muse and mentor as well. Not to mention, Celestia might be able to send him back home as well so he could get back on track with his dream and avoid scaring his dad. Peter gasped, having come to terms with these facts.

“Peter?” asked Twilight. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he quickly answered. “I’m better than okay, actually. Say, Twilight, when do you think we could go to Canterlot?”

“What!?” everypony exclaimed.

“Huh?” asked Granny Smith. “You wanna’ leave so soon?”

“But…” spoke Applejack, “I thought you liked it here. That’s what you told me!”

“Couldn’t you just stay here for just a few more days?” asked Apple Bloom.

Peter looked into the sad faces of Granny Smith, Big Macintosh, Apple Bloom, and Applejack. While it was difficult to say that he had to return home, it was looking at Twilight that did him in. Peter scrunched his face in embarrassed sadness. Peter, his first bite of food still on his fork, placed his fork back onto the plate and untied the cloth from his neck.

“Excuse me,” he quietly stated, standing up and dropping the cloth onto his chair. “I need some time alone. Please forgive me for spoiling your breakfast.”

Peter quickly ran up the stairs to his guest bedroom. The mood had definitely become somber, and no one, not even the ravenous Spike, could even think of taking another bite. In his guest bedroom, Peter ran to his bed and fell onto it with his face in his pillow. Peter began taking deep, labored breaths that were burning and aching with stress and anxiety.

Peter loved Twilight like a sister, and he had quickly warmed up to the Apples. As badly as he wanted to stay in Equestria with them, he had a home and a life to return to; one that he spent years trying to build. Abandoning it and his fragile father for another life, no matter how bright and sweet it felt, would all but leave a bitter taste in his mouth. Peter was torn between making Twilight and his new friends happy and making him and his father happy, and the internal struggle was eating at him like a virus.

========================================

Peter hung his body out over the banister of the balcony to the bedroom where he and Twilight slept. Snowflakes were falling on the city streets of Canterlot, which were strewn with lights, holly, bells, and other various festive decorations. Ponies were singing carols in the streets, happy of the joys that Hearths Warming brought to ponies young and old.

Peter however, was far from being in bright spirits. As he rested his head on his arms, he silently wept, his tears dropping from his face to the ground below, picked up by the wind. Even with the sound of the door opening behind him and the laughing voice of Twilight, Peter couldn’t be bothered to turn around.

“Peter!” called Twilight’s joyous voice as she pranced around the room. “Where are you? They’re about to cut the Hearth cake!”

Twilight then found Peter on the balcony, her previously gladsome demeanor becoming wary and confused. Twilight quietly stepped towards Peter, hoping that a direct conversation would get him out.

“Peter?” she asked. “What are you doing out here without a scarf or a coat? You’ll freeze out here!”

“Christmas was always my favorite holiday,” Peter said.

Twilight walked outside hoping to hear Peter fuller.

“I mean, what kid doesn’t love Christmas? You get presents, you’re not in school; it’s like Heaven.”

Twilight had heard Peter refer to Christmas before, and she’s heard this song and dance before, but something told her that this would be a different variation of said dance.

“However, I’ve been thinking. All those cartoons I’ve seen on TV that tell you that family and togetherness and stuff were the most important thing on Christmas? Sure, they sound cool and all, but of course the presents come first in the end.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Twilight.

“There’s a song back on my world that goes something like, “You don’t know what you have until it’s gone,” and that could never be truer on Christmas. Until coming here, Christmas has always been about toys and games for me, but now that I’m here, I don’t get to be with the one guy who made those days so special to start with; my pop.”

Twilight began to see where this was headed now, but let Peter continue.

“My dad spent all those Christmases with me and made them so good. I mean, I can always get a toy or a game. Heck, I can always get another if it were to break or get lost. But I can’t get another pop. But now that he’s not here, there is no Christmas for me. My only family is gone, and I may never see him again…”

Peter’s choked words made the last sentences nearly incomprehensible, as he sunk to his knees and grabbed the pillars of the banister, letting out all of his tears and emotions. Twilight took pity on him as he continued to cry and mourn. His sadness was causing her own eyes to water. Wanting these terrible feelings to end, Twilight ran up to him an gave his chest a tight hug, shocking Peter out of his tears.

“Sparky,” he sniffled, “what are you doing?”

“I’m sorry, Peter,” she said. “I know it’s hard to spend Hearth’s Warming Eve away from your family, but please, don’t cry. I don’t like seeing ponies cry on Hearth’s Warming Eve.”

Twilight’s warm, fuzzy arms were hard to ignore. Peter felt his grasp on the marble pillars holding the banister up loosen as he finally let go and hugged Twilight.

“And,” added Twilight, “if it makes you feel any better… I’ll be your family this Hearth’s Warming.”

“Really?” asked Peter, sniffling once again. “You’d do that for me?”

“Sure. I mean, no one should be alone on Hearth’s Warming.”

As Twilight further snuggled her body onto Peter’s the flooding wells that were Peter’s eyes were beginning to dry. With each second that he spent with Twilight, it gave him more and more of something that even without a father to comfort him, could give him something warm to carry him through.

Peter’s sad frown even began to change into a slight smile, truly glad to have someone by his side on Hearth’s Warming. For a second, he even felt fine if he could stay…

========================================

The sound of the bedroom door opened.

“Peter?” Twilight quietly called, seeing him sprawled on the bed. “Are you okay?”

Peter quickly shot up and sat up on the side of the bed, hoping to look less pathetic than he already felt.

“Yeah,” he lied, “sure. I just… I just…”

“You just what?”

“Hell… I guess there’s no hiding it.”

“Go ahead,” she said, trotting to the bed, jumping upon it and sitting next to Peter with her legs hanging over the side. “You can tell me. You can trust me.”

“I know,” Peter said to her face, forcing a smile. “I’ve forgotten how nice it is when you’re with me. Even in my darkest moments when I was younger, you were always there to comfort me, make me feel safe and not alone, and the same goes to Celestia and Crème. There have even been times when I would have felt fine not going back.”

Twilight gasped, this fact being news to her.

“However,” Peter resumed, “you and I both know that this isn’t the world I belong to. I belong on Earth with my father. I belong in the city and running my own restaurant; did Applejack tell you that’s where I was going?”

“Mmhm.”

“The point is, that as much as I’ve missed you and Equestria as a whole and as nice as it was to see you again, I need to get back going. That lot that I found won’t be up for sale forever, and the longer I spend here, the higher my chances of losing my dream are.”

Twilight looked down at the ground, a tear rolling off her cheek. The glimmer that bounced into his eye caught his attention, and he gasped at the sight.

“I understand,” Twilight whispered. “You know that when I was a filly, the only pony I ever considered my friend was my brother, and when I became Celestia’s student, I saw less and less of him in between my studies. You really filled a gap that I thought only Shining Armor could fill.

“In fact, when you left, I felt that hole open again. I tried filling that void with studies and the approval of Princess Celestia, that I almost forgot about friendships. That was when I moved to Ponyville and I met Applejack and the others. You haven’t met them yet, but I don’t think you will now…”

Peter’s guilt was returning, knowing that he’d be leaving her behind again.

“But please,” requested Twilight. “Don’t let my words sway you. If you think you’re being selfish for leaving, don’t. I know that you belong in our world just as much as I belong in yours, and asking for anything more would make me the selfish one. But even if you’ll be gone again, we’re still friends right?”

Peter, unable to handle his feelings, reached out and hugged Twilight, forcing Twilight to squeak in surprise.

“You’re my best friend, Twilight,” he answered. “You have been and you always will be. I don’t know how I could have made it through that year without someone like you. In fact, if it weren’t for you, Celestia, or Crème supporting me, I would have never had a purpose to achieve my dream.

“I knew that when I opened my restaurant, when I spent my days cooking for thousands of people every month, I’d know that if it weren’t for my good pal Sparky, it would have never come true.”

“But…” Twilight sobbed, “I thought Crème–”

“Yeah, Crème was a fantastic chef and an even better inspiration, if you hadn’t opened your heart to me, I would have never had the courage to meet and eventually learn from her. Believe me, Twilight. I’m indebted to you more than you know.”

Peter broke free from the hug, sitting forwards with his feet upon the floor.

“I guess I’m going to have to apologize to the Apples and the fillies about my behavior.”

“Don’t worry about it,” advised Twilight. “Applejack and I have a friend who’s much more sensitive than you. We’ll understand, just explain yourself like you did me.”

Peter stood up looking back at Twilight.

“Yeah,” he answered. “I’ll do it. Come on. You’ve hardly touched your breakfast either.”

Twilight watched as Peter walked out of the room before following him down herself. Peter saw upon coming back in the room that the ponies there, along with Spike, had not moved from their seats. Also surprising Peter was that their plates had not changed since he excused himself.

“What’s goin' on, sugarcube?” wondered Applejack.

Peter, instead of taking a seat, stood behind his chair and supported his body against it with his hands. Twilight, who was behind him the whole time, took her own seat as she listened to what Peter had to say.

“Listen, guys,” Peter spoke. “I just want to tell you all up front that I’m grateful for the hospitality that you’ve given me. I’m really glad to have met you, Applejack and Apple Bloom, as well as the rest of you, and I’m thankful that I got to see Twilight again, but as much as I like it here in Equestria, nothing can change the fact that Earth is my home. Like Twilight said to me up there, I belong in Equestria just as much as any of you belong on Earth. I have my own dreams to attend to and I only expressed interest in going to Canterlot so I could continue on my path to achieve my dream.

“I admire each one of you for becoming my friends and making me feel welcome in your home, but please understand that I want this. I want this dream so badly, and I couldn’t imagine the guilt it would put on me or my father if I were to abandon that dream here. So, could we please just continue our breakfast and just go on with it?”

Peter finally pulled his chair back and sat down, picking up his cloth and tying it around his neck. The ponies and Spike looked upon Peter with stoic respect for his decision, but was soon broken by Applejack’s smiling face.

“Here’s to Pete,” she said as he wrapped her wrist around her glass of juice and held it up in a toast. “May he get back home safely and get his own restaurant!”

“To Peter!” the other ponies chimed in.

Peter was touched by his friends support, which was even more emotional when he saw Twilight give a smile that told him, “Good job.” Peter grabbed his glass and raised it up, completing the toast. As the ponies resumed their meal, Peter picked up his fork with his first bite still on it and put it in his mouth. Peter grinned, pleased that his food was still warm.

Chapter 5: Flavorful Emulsions

Peter and Twilight made their way to their room after their delicious soup dinner. Peter looked around the room, still curious to the place that he would now have to call his home. There were a few toys strewn about the floor, but the majority of the items in the room consisted of books and tomes of various colors and hues.

Peter then looked to the bed, which looked very comfortable with its silk sheets and puffy comforter. However, there was one thing that caught his eye. It was a raggedy, pony-shaped doll made from grey burlap with dark grey strands of yarn for the mane and tail. It had a red button for the right eye and a greyish-blue button for the left eye. It also wore a pair of blue shorts with white polka dots on it. Peter went over and picked the doll up, observing it curiously.

“HEY!” shouted Twilight.

Peter suddenly felt a purple force knock him off his feet and to the ground on his rump, the surprise of the blow causing him to let go of the doll. He then saw as Twilight picked up the doll in both hooves and hold it away from Peter.

“You don’t get to touch Smarty Pants!” she yelled at Peter. “Got it?”

Peter’s face contorted with fear again. He had no idea what he had done to deserve such treatment. Peter’s eyes began to well with tears as he rubbed his rump, now starting to feel the stinging soreness of his fall. Twilight, looking at the young man crying also caused some alarm in her. If Celestia were to walk by and hear him crying, she would more than likely be punished.

“Okay! Okay!” she pleaded, rushing over to Peter, running up onto his chest and putting her hoof to his mouth. “I’m sorry! Now shut up, or Celestia will hear you.”

“Get off!” shouted Peter, pushing Twilight off of him and forcing her to the floor.

Once Peter saw Twilight begin to shudder herself from the pain of her fall, Peter smiled triumphantly.

“There!” he exclaimed. “How do you like it?”

Twilight’s tears were beginning to form before she wailed loud enough for someone three halls down. Peter now found himself in Twilight’s shoes, wanting nothing more than to shut her up and being fearful for her safety. Before he could act though, Celestia walking into the room, looking crossly at the two of them.

“What’s going on?” she demanded.

“Peter…” Twilight cried through her tears, “tried to take Smarty Pants… and when I tried to get him back… he pushed meeeheeheehee…”

Celestia raised her eyebrows as she contemplated Twilight’s side of the story. Something didn’t sit right with her though, as if she could tell that there were fragments missing from her story.

“Peter,” Celestia asked, turning to the human child, “would you mind telling me what happened?”

“I just wanted to look at her doll, right?” explained Peter. “But then she turns into a psycho and attacks me.”

“That’s not true!” whined Twilight.

“I was about to start crying, because you know, it hurt! Then she tried to shut me up by putting her hand– hoof, whatever, in my face, so… yeah, I pushed her off. And I’m sorry. Really.”

Twilight gasped as she watched Peter cross his arms with anger and remorse. He didn’t deny pushing her and even felt some regret. Celestia shook her head, knowing that such instances were to be common.

“Twilight? Did you push Peter too?”

Twilight tried to deny it, but then looked at Peter, who looked scared behind his angry façade. She remembered Celestia’s words about him being alone in this world, and she knew that by not only lying to Celestia, but alienating Peter further would probably make Celestia angry with her.

“Yes,” she sorrowfully answered. “It’s true. And I’m sorry too, Peter.”

Celestia’s stern face became more stoic.

“Twilight, Peter,” Celestia advised. “I know that both of you have to share space with each other and are away from your home and families, but I don’t want you two starting fights with each other. And Peter, please ask before you touch somepony else’s belongings.”

Peter was about to protest his innocence further, but looking at Celestia’s glare, as well as back at Twilight, who now looked sorry for her actions, he quelled his speech.

“I understand,” Peter said.

“So do I Princess,” Twilight answered.

“Very good,” Celestia stated. “Be sure to get to bed early. We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow.”

Celestia walked out of the room and closed the door, leaving the filly and the child alone together again as they sat on the floor.

“I meant it when I said I was sorry,” Peter said without the slightest hint of competition. “I just wanted to look at your doll, that’s all.”

Twilight could believe his words, and with a glance to her Smarty Pants doll to her right, she picked him up with her mouth and flung him to Peter’s lap. Peter gasped at her action.

“Here. You can play with him if you want. His name is Smarty Pants.”

“Thanks,” he answered, observing the doll. “You aren’t still hurt, are you?”

Twilight turned to him, unsure of why he asked her that.

“About a year ago,” Peter said, “I got angry at a kid for cheating at a baseball game during gym class, so I threw the ball at his face and broke his nose. I was sent home that day. I just want to ask, because… I tried apologizing, but he would never accept it, so I just want to ask if you accept my apology.”

“Well,” Twilight said matter-of-factly, “he shouldn’t have cheated.”

Peter, despite himself, chuckled at Twilight’s answer, his smile bringing one to her face as well.

“Here,” Peter said, putting his arm out. “Let’s shake on it.”

Twilight was unsure of his gesture and shied away.

“What’s this for?” she asked.

“Where I come from, if you shake my hand, it’s like a deal. So what do you say? Deal?”

Celestia’s words rung true in Twilight’s ears. She would now be seeing her parents and her brother less and less under Celestia’s care and tutelage, and she needed someone to bond with to make up for it. Looking back in Peter’s sincere eyes, she felt as if he could be exactly who she needed to make it through.

Twilight held her hoof out to Peter and placed it in Peter’s palm. Peter firmly put his palm and fingers around her hoof and shook.

========================================

Peter shifted the gear in his car to neutral. Peter punched the ceiling of his hood, signaling that Big Macintosh could pull. Big Macintosh had ropes tied to his yoke as he pulled Xterra and trailer out of the barn by the back of the trailer. Twilight was in the barn pushing the van out with her magic as Peter directed the pull if necessary with his steering wheel.

The car was soon completely blanketed by the sunlight, as Twilight and Big Macintosh transferred the car another few feet.

“It’s all clear now!” Twilight called.

Big Macintosh stopped pulling and Twilight ceased her spell. Peter hopped out of the car to the stamping hooves of Applejack, and the Apples.

“Thanks a millyun’, Pete,” Applejack said. “You can go and get to the train station now.”

“Huh?” Peter asked. “The train station?”

“Yes,” answered Twilight as she came around the front. “The express trains to Canterlot leave at eleven and five each day. We need to see the princess and hope she can find a solution for your mess, pronto.”

“That’s really great and all,” Peter said, “but can’t we just bring her down here and save us the trip? I mean, don’t forget, I still have all of my stuff.”

“I’m well aware of that, Peter, but I want you to draw as less attention to yourself as possible. Celestia coming down to town is a very rare occasion, and ponies want to greet their princess when she arrives. If she comes here for us to explain ourselves to her and to bring you home, there’s a very good possibility that they could see you, and I believe that your existence to the rest of ponykind should be kept under wraps. Plus, how are you also going to get to see Crème Fraiche when you’re here in Ponyville?”

“I suppose you’re right. But what about my luggage and things?”

“Here’s my game plan. You have far too much stuff to load into a passenger train and not enough time to load and unload it. Instead, we’re going to take the express train to Canterlot at eleven. The ride via express is only a couple of hours in length. By the time we see the Princess and tell her of what’s happening, she can come back to Sweet Apple Acres with us and transport you and all of your stuff back to your world by this afternoon.”

“You know, that’s a fantastic idea, Sparky. What time is it now?”

Twilight looked down at her hoof and the shadow’s direction.

“My the shadow on my hoof tells me it’s half past nine.”

“Heh,” chuckled Peter. “So what, are you a living sundial now? You really did turn into a nerd when I was gone.”

Twilight gave Peter a frown, but couldn’t keep it straight as she began to giggle.

“But we have some time,” Peter remarked. “Even if this plan has little chance of error, I still want to bring a change of clothes, some toiletries, and my phone and laptop in case we get held up and I need to get a hold of… shit.”

“What’s shit?” asked Twilight.

“Dammit!” Peter swore again, angered with Twilight having learned colorful human language. “I mean… never mind. Forget I said a thing. I need to call my dad before work.”

Peter ran back towards the house. Twilight, wanting to give Peter a little bit of space, let him go, instead going over to Applejack.

“Hey,” called Applejack, “what’cha want?”

“Do you know where I can find your saddlebags?” asked Twilight.

____________________________________________________________

Peter found his phone on the table, right where he left it. He picked it up and dialed the caller ID for his dad. Peter hoped that his dad wasn’t too busy in prepping his restaurant’s kitchen and would still make the call. Thankfully, the dialtone only rung twice.

“Peter. Thank goodness. How’s the car?”

Peter was racked with nervousness. He had forgot to plan an excuse to not make it to Manhattan again. He sighed, knowing that he would just have to roll with it.

“Sorry, pop. I was… I’m a bit stressed.”

“…And?”

“And yeah, the engine’s having some real problems. He doesn’t know what’s causing it, but he’s trying to find a way to fix it without having to replace the whole damned thing.”

“Jesus, Peter. I’m sorry about that. How much is it going to cost you?”

“Well get this. The mechanic invited me over to his house for breakfast, and so I made him and his wife my famous potato pancakes benedict. I had to use some of my white-wine vinegar, because, let’s face it, what mechanic keeps white-wine vinegar in his pantry? But I digress. He was so pleased and so thankful for the meal, that he took a couple hundred off my bill.”

“Well that was awful generous of him.”

“I know, right? He said that he hopes to fix the problem just afternoon, but he’s still unsure.”

“How can he be unsure? He’s a mechanic; he should know when a car stops working and how to fix it.”

“He’s trying! Again, pop, you might hate that I’m here, but I hate it so much more. At least you still have a restaurant. If I can’t get this resolved soon, I might lose that lot.”

“Fate has a funny way of playing with people.”

“You have no idea.”

“Well, thanks for the update as promised, Peter.”

“Of course."

“If you could, please send me a text when the mechanic finds the problem, alright?”

“I’ll try.”

“You won’t try. You’ll do.”

“Hey, who’s that?”

“It’s Peter! He’s stuck in a mechanic’s outside of Philly. Say hi to him.

“Hey, Pete!”

“Hi, Roger.”

“Yep. Things haven’t been the same without you Pete.”

“And they never would be, pop. You know that.”

“Even the guys back here miss you.”

“I’ll send flowers.”

“Hahahaha! Alright, Peter, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Later, pop.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Peter ended the call, hearing a knocking at his door immediately after.

“Uh,” droned Peter, surprised by the sudden noise, “come in.”

Twilight came into the room and tossed a green strap with two green bags strapped to each side with her teeth. Peter caught the bag, looking at it confusedly.

“Pack what you need, Peter,” she ordered. “We’re going back to Canterlot!”

Peter looked at his new bag and smiled, knowing he’d be seeing two of his other friends again.

========================================

Twilight had an exhausting day in her studies. A difficult spell she was set to learn for Celestia had not worked and only seemed to tire her out beyond comprehension. Peter watched as Twilight wobbled her legs down the hallway, becoming concerned that she’d faint at any second. Peter ran over to her, hoping to help her.

“Sparky!” he called. “Are you okay?”

“Shut up,” gasped Twilight. “I’m just… a… I’m just tired and I want to go to bed.”

“You were trying teleportation again,” spoke Peter in an obnoxiously irksome voice and smirk, “didn’t you?”

“I… don’t want to…”

“Didn’t you?”

“Be… be quiet…”

“Didn’t you?”

“What did I tell you about…”

This elevation in her volume was the last of her energy, as she began to collapse to the floor. Before her body could tip, Peter knelt down and caught her underneath her belly.

“Yeah, you were,” he whispered in her ear.

Twilight was out cold. With Twilight being about as tall as Peter’s chest, he tried his best to pick her up and carry her to the next several doors to their room. Twilight proved to be about as heavy as Peter could humanly allow. Peter grunted as he lifted Twilight off her hooves and straddled down the hallways.

After a ten-minute walk that should have taken less than one, Peter made it to the bedroom and excitedly hurried his pace to get her to her destination as quickly as possible. Once he reached the foot of the bed, he hoisted Twilight as high as he could and tossed her on. She was barely above the mattress, her bounces being minimal. Either way, Twilight was sound asleep and was in her bed. As badly as Peter wanted to call it a day and leave Twilight, he knew that she deserved better.

Peter put both hands on the upper part of Twilight’s thighs and pushed her further up the bed to the back. Peter continued to push until Twilight’s head was scrunching into her pillow. He then lifted her neck up and shifted the pillow underneath, letting her head rest upon it. Peter then grabbed the covers and pulled them out from under her and then placing them over her body up to her neck.

“Good night, Sparky,” he whispered in her ear.

Peter then looked at her face, and how peaceful it looked in sleep. He leaned down and gave her a peck on the cheek. The sensation unconsciously brought a smile to Twilight’s face.

========================================

Twilight, Spike, and Peter walked down the road from Sweet Apple Acres. Twilight had the saddlebags equipped to her body while Peter had his laptop back slung over his shoulder and at his side. As they neared the town of Ponyville, which Peter looked at with nostalgia due to its rustic appearance, Peter scanned the area for a train station.

“Uh, Twilight?” asked Peter. “Where is this train station?”

“It’s further in the town. Oh, right…”

“Yeah, right. I kind of need to not be seen, remember?”

“Don’t worry. I have a solution.”

Twilight stopped, faced Peter, and charged her horn. Peter was unsure by what she was doing, but felt a tingling encompass his entire body. The tingling continued, making Peter feel strange.

“What was that for, Twilight?” he asked, putting his hands out to see them. However, his hands were not there. Peter looked down to find his body, only to see that it wasn’t there either. Peter made several bursts of short screams as he felt his body, but still couldn’t see it.

“My body!” he shouted. “What did you do to my body?”

“It’s an invisibility spell that I’ve been working on. Now you can walk into Ponyville and not one pony will see you. But we have to hurry. This spell only lasts for about five minutes, and the train will leave at that time too, so we have to get on now.”

“Right.”

Twilight trotted down the road while Peter and Spike gave a slight jog, all while hoping nothing on his part would disable the spell. Once they entered the town, Peter wanted nothing more than to take a look around at this quaint, little village, but time was of the essence, and there was no time.

Peter was certainly relieved with one thing: the spell seemed to be working. Not a single pony glanced their way. All he had to focus on was not bumping into anyone and he’d be golden. Peter, Twilight, and Spike finally found the train station with a train waiting that looked as if the engine and its cars were made from gingerbread.

“What is this?” Peter asked to himself. “The Hansel and Gretel Express?”

“Shh,” Twilight hissed. “We’re almost there. You need to be silent for this to work.”

“Alright. Alright.”

“Shh!”

Twilight walked up to the ticket booth with Spike behind her. The mare at the counter brightened up upon seeing Twilight.

“Oh, hello, Ms. Sparkle,” she said. “Heading to Canterlot today?”

“Yeah,” she answered.

“Well you go on ahead. You too, little guy.”

“Thank you,” Twilight said as she and her dragon ran off.

Peter quickly did the Macarena in front of the mare at the ticket booth before he agilely hopped onto the station and followed Twilight and Spike into the very back car.

Peter was surprised that with as little time left as there was before the train would leave, the car was empty save for the three of them. Just as Peter sat down with his bag next to him, his body began to fade into visibility once again.

“Alright,” whispered Peter as he observed his arms. “We’re off to Canterlot and we get an entire car to ourselves! We’re like celebrities!”

“We’re not out of the clear yet,” Twilight said. “Unless someone walks back into this car, you’re still not able to be seen.”

“Then I’ll sit in the bathroom. These trains have that, don’t they?”

“How would that even work?” asked Twilight. “Where would they store the plumbing? Or the waste?”

“So in other words…”

“No. You’re just going to have to hope no one comes in.”

“What about the ticket ma– pony? Sure, that mare let you pass, but for all he knows, there are ponies in hear that he needs to get their tickets from. Speaking of, how did you get in for free?”

“Princess Celestia allows me to ride to Canterlot and the Crystal Empire free of charge.”

“Crystal Empire?”

“Yeah,” Spike said. “It’s this awesome new city made entirely out of crystals. Shining Armor and Cadance rule it together, and it’s also the spot for the upcoming–”

“Shining Armor? Cadance? They’ve moved?”

“Oh right!” Twilight exclaimed. “The Crystal Empire appeared after an evil king cur–”

“All aboard!” shouted the conductor.

Peter and Twilight had a slight pang of nervousness.

“About that ticket pony…” Peter mentioned.

“Spike,” called Twilight. “Look out the door window and warn us when he’s coming. I’ll cast a less powerful spell when he comes by that should only last about half a minute. Then, once we reach Canterlot, I’ll cast another five minute spell that should get us inside the palace.”

“Sounds like a plan, Stan.”

“Stan?”

“It’s an expression where I’m from.”

“Oh. Okay…”

Suddenly, the train lurched forwards as it slowly pulled out of the station. Peter sat with his back to the station, so to whomever was standing on the platform and waving goodbye to the ponies leaving, all they could see was his hair, appearing to them as an anonymous pony.

“And off we go!” chirped Peter in a quiet tone.

“Twilight!” called Spike, his arms pulling his head up over the window to see. “He’s here already.”

“Okay,” Twilight sighed.

With a quick charge of her horn, Peter faded away again, but much faster this time. Not even a second’s beat after, the ticket pony came in with his blue jacket and cap and looked right at Twilight and Spike, the latter of which was right in front of them. They both gave him innocent smiles that told him nothing was amiss.

“Ms. Sparkle,” he spoke, tipping his hat with his hoof.

He popped back into the next car up for the other passengers’ tickets. A little later, Peter’s body appeared again.

“Is that it?” he asked. “Is that it for a while?”

Twilight giggled.

“Aw, come on, Peter,” she teased. “I thought you liked the feeling of magic on your body.”

“I know I did, it’s just I haven’t felt that in almost fifteen years. It could take a bit of time to get used to.”

“Alright,” said Twilight with a giddy smile, “fair enough.”

“So Peter,” Spike said, climbing up on the seat to sit next to him, “what’s it like to live on your world.”

“It’s pretty hectic…” he said. “I can’t really compare it to your world very well, since the only places I’ve been so far are within the Canterlot palace and Sweet Apple Acres, but there’s always something going on.”

“Jeez. That must be tiresome.”

“Sometimes, but it’s exciting, and it always keeps you on your toes. That’s one of the great things about being a chef. Not just the making food and doing cool stuff with it, but the constant hustle and bustle that keeps your blood pumping. It’s like the ultimate exercise with your mind.”

“Well, clearly you’ve never been to the library on Sorting Day.”

Spike looked at Twilight with a disdainful frown, only for Twilight to coyly smile it away.

“Yep,” Peter agreed. “Twilight definitely has her OCD about her.”

“OCD?” Twilight wondered.

“Three words: Obsessive. Compulsive. Disorder.”

Spike chuckled, finding this classification for his persnickety friend rather fitting.

“Disorder?” Twilight objected. “I can’t really see how being organized can be classified as a ‘disorder’”

“Well, for starters,” Spike said, “you can just stick to alphabetical and maybe just nix alphabetical author first names, alphabetical author last names, author birthdays, author deaths, spine color, cover colors, cover font styles, spine font styles…”

As Spike continued his list, Peter snickered loudly, trying to hold back his laughter in front of the bemused Twilight. Peter grabbed his computer bag and tried his best to smother his mouth with it as he cackled as loud as he could with his bag muffling the noise. Spike watched Peter’s hysterical fit and bust into one himself.

Twilight began to scowl, the sound of her grumbling putting Peter and Spike’s eyes on her. Once they saw her threatening face, they settled down immediately and stared off around the train as if they hadn’t done anything. Peter then glanced to Twilight from the corner of his eyes and gave her a silly smirk.

“That’s it!” Twilight shouted as she ran at Peter.

However, Peter was prepared and as Twilight leapt at him, he grabbed her by the armpits and flipped her around so her back was resting against his stomach. Once Peter’s arms slid out further and holding her in place, Peter waggled his fingers over Twilight’s stomach, with Twilight starting to giggle incessantly.

“You awoke the tickle monster!” growled Peter playfully. “After fifteen years of slumber, he finally returns!”

“Stop!” Twilight tried to call out through her laughing. “Peter! Haha! I’m… I’m serious! You’re going to alert everypony heeheehee!”

Peter put Twilight back down on the floor, sliding her off of his stomach and onto her hooves. Her giggles still permeating her voice.

“Wow, I can’t believe I walked right into that,” she said, putting her hoof to her head.

“Sounds like a good time in here,” called a voice walking into the car.

Twilight, Peter, and Spike’s smiles turned immediately into faces of fear as a unicorn mare opened the doors with a large suitcase in her magical grasp. She was a mint-green color with a cropped mane and tail of a lighter hue and a white streak down the middle. Her eyes and the lyre she had for a cutie mark on her flank were golden yellow. In her yellow magic aura, she carried two large pink, flora-designed suitcases.

Upon looking around the car she caught her eyes on Twilight, Spike, and the alien creature sitting on the seat next to Spike. Her eyes widened and her mouth contorted into a fearful expression. Twilight knew was about to happen, and she had two options: turn Peter invisible and hope that the unicorn would imagine that she was seeing things, or the likely alternative, shut her up before she would inevitably scream and alert everyone, all while having to let her in on Peter.

Sure enough, the green unicorn opened her mouth to scream, but as soon as air escaped her lungs, the unicorn was muted. She was quite surprised at this and looked down at her neck to see a purple aura wrapped around it. She then saw as Twilight’s horn was glowing, seeing that she was the cause of her silence. She began to scuffle backwards towards the door, but Twilight enveloped her aura around the unicorn and floated her to the seat next to her.

The green unicorn looked frantically at Twilight and the nervous Peter as she pointed her hoof at it like a child at the sign to a candy store.

“Lyra,” calmly said Twilight, “I’m going to take this aura off of you, and I want you to be quiet, okay?”

The unicorn named Lyra threw her hoof towards Peter and looked at Twilight as if saying, “You do see the alien on board this train, right?”

“I know,” Twilight reasoned, “but rest assured that this guy here is very friendly and he’s actually returning home shortly, where he won’t bother anypony ever again. You understand?”

Lyra nodded vigorously and fearfully.

“I said, 'You understand?'”

Lyra’s nodding was slower, but reluctant.

“Okay then.”

Twilight’s aura took itself off of Lyra as she stared directly at Peter with awe and fright. Peter shrugged his shoulders up as far as he could, gave the most innocent smile he could and gave a small wave. While Lyra’s expression hardly changed, she seemed to be pacified enough to not scream in terror.

“Twilight,” she sighed, “what is that thing?”

“I’m a human,” Peter answered, forcing a gasp from Lyra as she turned back to him. “I can speak your language, so if you need to ask me anything, shoot.”

“He really talked!” squeaked Lyra to Twilight as she pointed her hoof at Peter once more.

“Yes, he did,” Twilight answered without sarcasm. “Now please, hear him out.”

“Where did he…” Lyra began before turning to face Peter. “Where did you even come from?”

“It’ quite a long story, but we do have a long train ride, so do you mind hearing a story?”

“Um… sure. What’s… um, what is your name?”

“My name is Peter,” he answered, holding his hand out that Lyra flinched away from, “Peter Falwell.”

Lyra looked at the appendage confusedly, unsure by the human’s intentions.

“Let him grab it,” explained Twilight. “On their world, it’s both a symbol of introducing oneself and making deals.”

Lyra, looking into the assuring eyes of Peter, placed her hoof into Peter’s hand. The unicorn shuddered as each of Peter’s fingers wrapped around her hoof to grip it. She was also heavily intrigued as Peter’s arm moved up and down, her arm moving with his. Lyra had shaken hooves with Spike before, but his scales were nothing to the soft and smooth feel of his skin; it was exhilarating. Once Peter let go, he looked to Lyra for approval.

“Wow,” she said with a slight chuckle and smile. “This is amazing… A human, huh?”

Lyra slouched back in her seat, finding a comfortable position as she continued to look at Peter.

“So,” she asked, “where did you say you came from?”

Peter smirked and leaned back in his seat.

“Let’s see,” he said, trying to find the best place to start. “I was ten years old when I was sent to Equestria…”

Chapter 6: Salty Reunion

Peter peered around the corner of the hallway as she watched her hug a white unicorn stallion with a messy blue mane and tail. Celestia did mention the other day that Twilight had family that she would also not be seeing because of her studies with Celestia. Even for as inexperienced still as he was with this world, he could feel that this couldn’t have been Twilight’s father; something about him seemed so… young and wild. Not only that, but his voice that he used to talk to his sister was higher-pitched and raspy. It was clear that this was Twilight’s brother.

“How’s my favorite little sister?” he asked her.

“A bit lonely,” she said.

“Well, I’m sure Smarty Pants will keep you company.”

“How about mom and dad?”

“Oh, they miss you a bunch, but you know they couldn’t be more proud of you.”

“Thanks, big brother. At least I don’t have just Mr. Smarty Pants.”

“Yes, and I’m sure it’s nice to be able to spend time with Princess Celestia.”

“Not just that! Come see!”

Twilight went to her brother’s side and wrapped her hoof around his arm as she attempted to escort him to her room. The white unicorn playfully rolled his eyes as he walked alongside his sister to her room. Peter’s eyes widened. He was not prepared to meet any of Twilight’s family, yet alone right now. He slipped back into his room and sat along the edge of the bed.

“Is this that dragon you’re looking after?” Shining Armor guessed.

“Not even close!” Twilight exclaimed. “But you have to keep him a secret. I really shouldn’t be showing him to everypony, but I think Celestia won’t mind me showing it to my B.B.B.F.F.”

“What?” he exclaimed, sounding a bit nervous. “What do you have in there?”

The stallion walked into the room and saw Peter’s figure on the bed. While confused at first by what he was, the stallion walked closer to get a better look while Peter remained still, but awestruck by how regal he looked. The stallion’s confusion turned to shock as he realized how alien Peter was as he turned to Twilight with a fearful expression.

“Twily,” he shuddered, “what in the hay is that?”

“Shining Armor!” cried Twilight, standing in front of him. “Please, don’t be scared! He’s really friendly! Peter, this is my big-brother-best-friend-forever, Shining Armor.”

Peter hopped off the bed as casually and as calmly as he could.

“Hey,” he said with slight apprehension, “I’m… Pet– right, you got my name. Um… nice to meet you!”

Peter held out his hand, causing Shining Armor to recoil and shy away.

“It’s okay,” Twilight said. “It’s just their way of saying hello.”

Shining Armor, not unfamiliar with a hoofshake, chuckled in embarrassment and put both of his hooves up, sandwiching Peter’s hand in between them as Shining Armor moved both arms up and down.

“Sorry about that,” said Shining Armor. “I’ve never seen a hoofshake done with one hoof before.”

“Well,” Peter said a bit bashfully, “it certainly helps when you have fingers.”

“Is that what you call your claws?”

“Well, it’s just what they’re called.”

Shining Armor gave a small chuckle, putting Peter at ease.

“What even are you?” Shining Armor asked. “I’ve never seen anypony like you in my life.”

“I’m a human,” answered Peter. “You know how Twilight went all wacky during her exam, right?”

Shining Armor knew all too well about Twilight’s entrance exam, remembering the giant dragon’s head that burst through the roof of the academy. Twilight squeamishly smiled.

“Well, that burst of magic also brought me here from my own world.”

“Wait,” the stallion interrupted, “you’re not even native to here?”

“Do I look native to you?”

Shining Armor was taken aback by Peter’s outburst, but Twilight was quick to try and mend the conversation.

“Sorry, big brother,” Twilight apologized, “but Peter really misses his family and home, and he’s still trying to get used to everything. That’s why I wanted to show him to you. I thought that maybe, we could, you know… let him join the family?”

“Huh?” Peter exclaimed.

“Yeah. Shining Armor is the best big brother best friend forever that any foal could have! I know that you miss your dad, but I want you to feel happy here, and I know there’s no better feeling I get from being with my own brother.”

Shining Armor innocently pawed at the ground.

“Aw, shucks Twily,” he guffawed. “You’re making me blush.”

“Well?” Twilight pressed to her brother.

“Sure thing. I don’t mind hanging out with him with Twilight.”

“Great! Now let’s play a game! We’ve still got some time before today’s lesson! How about some checkers? No wait, we can’t all play that. How about Go Fish, or some…”

“You know,” Shining Armor interrupted, “I think we should let Peter decide.”

Peter looked into Shining Armor’s accepting gaze while Twilight looked upon him curiously for an answer. Peter could tell from the stallion’s easy-going attitude and quick acceptance that he was going to like him. Peter smiled.

“Go Fish sounds like fun,” he said.

As Twilight clopped her front hooves together in joy, she ran to a drawer to search for the deck of cards as Peter walked up besides Shining Armor.

“You and I are gonna’ be good friends, I can tell,” stated Peter, hanging his left arm over Shining Armor’s neck.

“Yeah,” he answered. “If Twilight likes you, then I can’t see why I can’t like you.”

Shining Armor and Peter, the latter’s arm still around the stallion’s upper back, walked to Twilight to an empty spot in the floor where they could play their game.

____________________________________________________________

Twilight was in tears as she gave Shining Armor one last hug. Peter leaned against the wall and smiled as he looked at Shining Armor, having enjoyed his time with him.

“You do good now, Twily,” advised Shining Armor. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to visit again in between training, but I’ll be back the second I know I can.”

“Okay,” agreed Twilight. “I’m going to miss you, big brother.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

Before Shining Armor walked down the hallways for the exit, Shining Armor gave Peter a wave goodbye, which Peter returned with child-like gusto. Twilight drooped her head as she watched Shining Armor turn the corner to leave. Peter, understanding her walked back to her and placed his hand on her back.

“Twily, huh?” Peter wondered.

“Yeah,” she responded, wiping her tears with her hoof. “It’s just a name he refers to me by.”

“I like it.”

“Thanks, Peter.”

“You know, I was thinking about a nickname for you, but I didn’t know if you’d like it, but now that I heard what he calls you, I wanted to know.”

“Well? What is it?”

“I mean, when I see you performing difficult spells, I see your horn turning all lightningy, and when you got all mad at me for touching Smarty Pants, I thought of… um, Sparky.”

“Sparky?”

“Yeah! And your last name is Sparkle. It’s perfect!”

“But, isn’t that like a dog’s name?”

“You named your dragon Spike.”

“…Touché.”

“Well, what do you think?”

Twilight looked back up towards Peter and gave him a smile.

“I like it.”

Peter beamed at Twilight’s acceptance, Twilight giggling at his happy smile.

========================================

The train passed through mountainous valleys as it continued onwards to Canterlot. Inside the rearmost car of the train, Peter and Lyra spent all of their time conversing and laughing about the new things that they learned about from each other, whether it be Peter’s history, his dream, and his anatomy, to Lyra’s life in Ponyville and how she came to become train buddies with Twilight.

“And so,” Lyra concluded, “she said, sure come on in, and so whenever we ride the train, we’re always sure to grab the last car in the back so we can have our own little peace and quiet. Looks like I got much more than I bargained for, huh, Twilight?”

“Right,” Twilight giggled sheepishly, “I was so concerned with trying to sneak Peter in that I didn’t even consider the possibility that you’d be on it.”

“Speaking of,” Peter asked, “what do you have going on in Canterlot?”

“My family lives up there,” Lyra answered. “I just come up when my schedule allows it. Speaking of, there it is!”

Lyra pointed out the window to the left of the car. Peter, who was still sitting on that side, looked behind him to see the white, gold, and purple palace. Peter sighed with an extreme sense of nostalgia as he gazed upon the place he once called home for a year. Even for Twilight, Spike, and Lyra, who’ve visited the city on many occasions, were captivated by its beauty.

“Canterlot,” whispered Pete. “I’m back home.”

As the train began to pass under a tunnel, Twilight spoke out.

“Let’s gather our things once we get out of the tunnel. We’ll be at the Canterlot Station in just a couple of minutes. Ready, Spike?”

“Ready,” the purple dragon answered.

“Lyra, you should say your goodbyes now. I have to cast an invisibility spell on him soon and sneak him into the castle.”

“Sounds like fun,” the green unicorn answered.

As the train passed out of the tunnel, the two ponies, Spike, and Peter all stood to get ready to dismount the train. However, as Lyra stood up, she stood on her hind legs and leaned into Peter with her arms snug around his body.

“Thanks, Peter,” Lyra said with a content smile. “It was such an honor to meet you. Good luck with your restaurant.”

“Thanks a bunch, Lyra,” he said. “Just keep mum about me while I’m still here, okay?”

“What?” she exclaimed, standing back on all four hooves. “You expect a bunch of ponies to hear me talk about humans and believe me? They’d all think I’m crazy!”

Peter and Lyra shared a pleasant giggle, both of them agreeing with what they said. Lyra then picked up her luggage and made her way for the front of the train.

“Anyways, it’s been fun, Peter. Goodbye!”

Peter bid her a wave as she disappeared from his sight. Peter heard a magical shimmering noise as he picked up his bag. He turned to Twilight, whose horn was glowing.

“One more time,” she said with a sly smile.

____________________________________________________________

The train pulled into the station, the doors opening up upon it coming to a complete stop. Twilight and Spike shuffled out of it while Peter, now invisible to everyone again, did his best to weave in and out of crowds, trying to avoid phantom contact with the ponies on the platform. Twilight stood around nervously as he continued to make his way back towards her.

“Come on,” she whispered. “We have to go.”

Peter now close enough to Twilight tapped her gently on the flank with his index finger. Twilight looked around her, trying to find whoever touched her, but soon felt an invisible hand patting her back. Twilight sighed knowing that Peter was there. With not another second wasted, she and Spike walked from the station towards the palace.

____________________________________________________________

Twilight and Spike got up the winding steps that led to the entrance to the palace. Peter was still close behind, but hoped that the spell would last long enough to get him inside without being seen by any of the unicorn guards standing by at the doors. Upon seeing her and her draconic companion, they kept their weapons up and covered the door handles with magical blue aura.

“Welcome back, Ms. Sparkle,” one guard said. “Please, come in.”

“Thank you, sirs,” she said as she and Spike walked past.

Peter made sure to straddle just behind Spike before the guards could close the door on him. Peter looked around the halls with wonder.

“It hasn’t changed a bit,” Peter said to himself.

“I’m sorry, Peter,” said Twilight, “but we have no time. We need to see Princess Celestia.”

“Okay, okay.”

Peter followed Twilight and Spike as she made it towards another flight of stairs that would take them to the floor where Celestia’s chambers were.

____________________________________________________________

Peter, Spike, and Twilight crept up to Celestia’s ruby-red doors, both of which remained closed. Peter’s visibility just began to fade in, allowing Twilight to address him before they could enter.

“Alright, Peter,” she whispered. “I’m going to go in and make sure she’s ready for you. I don’t know how she’s going to react to you being here, but hopefully she’ll mostly be happy to see you.”

“I suppose my being here a second time would raise some questions. Either way, we won’t know until we find out.”

“Okay. Here goes.”

Twilight inhaled with her hoof raised towards the door. She then gave it a couple of knocks, hoping to hear an answer.

“Come in,” called Celestia’s voice.

Peter’s heart fluttered on hearing Celestia’s voice once again. He almost wanted to run in with Twilight and see her once again, but kept still as Twilight opened the door for herself and went in with Spike by her side.

Celestia, who sat on her throne, looked to Twilight with a bit of surprise.

“Twilight?” she asked. “What are you doing here?”

“Sorry for leaving no notice, Princess, but there’s a matter that I need your help with.”

“Hmm? What is it?”

Twilight turned to face the door.

“You can come in now.”

Celestia could only wonder who this pony was that could be considered a “matter” to Twilight. Instead, a fully adult human body walked in through the entryway. Celestia gasped, instantly recognizing him even as an adult. Peter shuddered in his breath to see Celestia once again, putting his hand to his heart.

“Peter?” Celestia wondered.

“Celestia,” sighed Peter as he made his way for her.

Celestia’s initial reaction to his appearance was a combination of fear and regret, but upon seeing the excited Peter walked towards her, she hid her true feelings and brought a warm smile for her old friend.

“Peter,” she spoke warmly. “It’s so good to see you again.”

Peter walked up the stairs to her throne as Celestia stood up to allow Peter a hug. Sure enough, Peter threw his arms up and wrapped them around her swan-like neck and pressed his face into it.

“I missed you so much,” Peter exclaimed, a couple of tears running down his cheeks.

“I missed you too, Peter.”

They finally let go as Peter could now see Celestia’s worried face.

“Celestia…” wondered Peter. “What’s wrong?”

“Twilight,” the alicorn addressed to her student, “why is Peter here?”

“You see, Celestia,” she answered, “Peter was in his own world, and he was driving this machine called a car. As he drove, this fog came and took him to Equestria, all the way to Sweet Apple Acres to be exact.”

Celestia hung her head down, her face filled with regret and worry.

“Celestia?” Peter wondered again.

“Peter,” she asked, her horn shining a couple of times, “may I?”

“Uh, sure, Celestia.”

Princess Celestia’s horn glowed brightly as she tilted her head back down to aim her horn at his heart.

“You might feel a hard push,” she warned.

“Huh?”

Celestia inserted her horn through Peter’s chest. Sure enough, Peter felt as if someone was pressing their knuckle onto his chest there very hard. On top of seeing Celestia’s horn going into his chest, the sensation kept Peter from being able to breath. Twilight and Spike had never seen a spell quite like this before, and they were shocked and terrified by what they were witnessing.

It wasn’t too much longer that Celestia pulled her horn from his chest. Peter sunk to his knees and gasped for air. As he panted heavily, he felt around his shirt, not managing to see or feel any holes. He also pulled his collar down, surprised to see his bare chest completely unharmed.

“Celestia,” spoke Twilight. “What in the hay was that?”

“It’s a spell that allows me to see into the hearts of others,” explained Celestia. “I had to be sure of something… and it is what I have feared…”

“What?” Peter asked, now beginning to look nervous. “What is it?”

“Peter,” asked Celestia, “if you remember anything from being here, do you remember where magic in all living beings is stored?”

“I think it was… the heart, right?”

“That’s right. From birth, a pony’s heart is full of magic. It’s what allows unicorns to cast spells, it’s how pegasi are able to control the weather and stand on clouds, it’s how earth ponies connect themselves to the earth. It also allows their cutie marks to appear on their flanks when they discover their talents.

“Along with that, it also binds us to the friends that we make. You have missed a lot since your departure, Peter, but Twilight has gained five of the very best friends a pony could ever hope to make. Those bonds are connected through magic, and with them together, they can wield the Elements of Harmony, which is our greatest source of magic.

“When a pony befriends another pony, their hearts are connected through a nearly-unbreakable link that ensures that they’ll still be together again. Only the cruelest and weakest at heart have been able to break such bonds. However, when you came to Equestria, you formed a link with Twilight, myself, Crème Fraiche, Shining Armor, and Princess Cadance. I could see those links in your heart.”

“What does this mean?” Peter asked. “What does any of this have to do with why I’m still in Equestria?”

“It’s quite simple. Because of your being worlds apart from Equestria, your bonds with your friends here were more than likely bound to send you back here.”

“What? I don’t understand.”

“I can’t be sure about how bonds and friendships work on Earth, but I’ve come to learn from you that real magic does not exist on your world. However, upon coming here and becoming friends with all of us, that magical link connected us to you. And whether you were just a town away or even worlds away, your bonds to your friends here have sent you back here to be together with us again.”

“But… what does that mean for me?” Peter asked, his voice sounding shaky from his fright and anxiety. “Does this mean I can’t go back home?”

“Not exactly,” Celestia explained. “I could easily send you back home again like I did the first time, but it will be pointless.”

“How? Wait… no. No, no, no,” Peter began to sob, sinking to his knees.

“Now I think you’re beginning to realize your situation,” answered Celestia, sitting on her legs to be closer to his level, “No matter how many times I can send you home, sooner or later, your bonds with your friends will only bring you back. However, I don’t think I should send you back.”

“Huh?”

“Think about it. You always dreamed about running your own restaurant, correct?”

“Yes! That was why I was driving! I finally got the money to get my own restaurant and I was driving there to buy it.”

“I see… I’m very sorry for your journey being cut short like this, but still think. What do you think would happen if you disappeared in the middle of a service? What do you think would happen to your restaurant then? Or your employees?”

Peter, realizing his being stranded here, began to sink further down and break into a full crying fury. Twilight and Spike stood teary eyed as Peter lamented his loss. Celestia unfurled her wing and wrapped it around Peter’s back. Upon feeling the downy softness on his back, he lunged at Celestia and gripped her neck with his arms, weeping into her chest.

“There, there, Peter," cooed Celestia. "I can understand how you feel.”

“My pop…” he continued to cry. “My restaurant… my dream… I’ll never see them again.”

His rage began to pent up as he turned towards Twilight.

“And it’s all your fault!” he hysterically screamed at her.

He tried to stand up and make a run at Twilight. The purple unicorn tried to back away, but a yellow aura wrapped around Peter as he was lifted into the air. Peter thrashed around to break free, but Celestia’s aura tightened around Peter’s limbs, fully restricting his movements.

“Peter,” shouted Celestia. “That is enough!”

“If you hadn’t screwed up that fucking spell,” seethed Peter, “I would never have been here! I’d be at my restaurant right now and I’d be getting it ready! And now, because of you, I–”

“She has nothing to do with this! Her spell was all by accident, and you know that. She had no way of knowing she’d sent you here! And what then? We did everything to make sure your time here was as painless as possible. Or should we have left you in that cell for a year until we found a way to bring you home?”

Peter, while still angry, considered Celestia’s words, slowly coming to terms with how right she was.

“And what about Crème Fraiche? Do you really think that you would have been as passionate about cooking as you are today if it hadn’t been for her?”

Peter gasped. It was all making sense now.

“Do you think you would have the ambition to open your own restaurant if it hadn’t been for her tutelage?”

“I…” Peter stammered. “I…”

Celestia glared at him, demanding an answer.

“No…” he finally admitted, his anger and energy completely drained from his body.

Celestia, finally realizing that he had calmed down, set him back down to his knees, still unable to stand.

“Now you see the futility of your dream,” Celestia cooed, approaching Peter again. “Neither scenario could see you opening your restaurant on Earth. If you hadn’t met us, or Crème Fraiche for that matter, I imagine your path taking a much different turn, and I certainly wouldn’t see a restaurant in your future.

“On the other hoof, you built your passion to cook from the friendships you’ve made with us, and now you’re stuck here. Your restaurant was doomed from the very beginning. The only thing I can recommend now is that you get some rest. We can talk more about your options afterwards. Is that okay?”

Peter nodded slightly. He then turned to Twilight, his sight on her causing the unicorn to recoil in fear. This action began to bring more tears to Peter’s face.

“I’m so sorry, Twilight,” he sobbed. “I didn’t mean to try and hurt you.”

Twilight carefully approached Peter and put her hoof on his shoulder.

“I know you didn’t, Peter,” she whispered as she stroked his back. “I know you’re scared again, but I want to help you.”

“Could you ever forgive me?” he asked.

“Of course, I forgive you,” she said with a smile. “You’re my friend, Peter, and I want to be there for you.”

Peter, overcome by her acceptance, grabbed her and held her tight with both of her arms, sobbing loudly over her shoulder. Celestia gave a very small smile, empathizing with how depressed Peter was, but knowing that everything would still work out.

========================================

Twilight gave her final hugs to both of her parents as their visiting time was almost through. While studying with Princess Celestia was rewarding, there was just something special about being able to see her own family again after so much time. And their leaving was just as disheartening. Twilight watched as her parents walked down the hallway to the exit.

Twilight sullenly walked to her room with her head held low. There were many times like this in which Twilight wished she had never even been Celestia’s student at all. Sometimes, the absence of her family was too heavy of an emotional weight to bear.

Twilight entered her room, ready to take a nap and try and sleep her troubles away. However, a voice greeted her instead.

“Hey, Sparky,” Peter asked, “how was it?”

It was then that she remembered. While her family was far away, she at least had one friend that she could still keep company with. Twilight galloped over to Peter and jumped onto his chest. Her weight knocked Peter to the floor, but upon feeling the warmth of Twilight’s arms as they squeezed his chest and her nuzzle snuggling into his neck, he smiled.

Peter didn’t have his dad around, but this little filly was enough for him, and they knew they both needed each other. Peter, with one hand, pet Twilight’s back, while the other scratched behind her ears.

========================================

Peter leaned over the balcony of his room. It was very much like the one that he had as a child, but minus the toys and games scattered on the floor. He also would not be sharing a bed with Twilight, but he sighed, knowing it was for the best. As children, it was fine, much like an extended sleepover. As adults though, it would be awkward.

Peter looked down on the ponies as they walked down the city streets, the sun beginning to set, providing a perfect backdrop and lighting for them. Peter always liked watching the ponies as they carried about their days from the balconies of his room. It felt like the only way he could learn about their society. But for now, it seemed that now that he would be stuck here, he’d have much more time to learn.

The door opened behind him, and Peter turned to see Celestia and Twilight coming in to check on him. Peter walked back into the room to give them his attention.

“So,” Celestia wondered, “are you ready to talk about this?”

“Not quite,” Peter answered. “I should later tonight, though.”

“Later tonight?” Celestia wondered. “How late?”

“About an hour before midnight.”

Celestia was taken aback by his answer.

“Why must it be so late? I am normally in bed by then.”

“Because I want to show my father that I’m here and okay.”

“How? Your father is still on Earth. You have no way to contact him.”

Peter pointed to his laptop bag on his bed.

“I’m not sure how,” explained Peter, “but I’ve been able to contact my pop through my phone, which is a device that allows for long-distance communication where I’m from. I also have a machine called a computer, which allows me to access information, as well as serving as a means of long-distance communication.

“Of course, when I came to this world the first time, I had no such devices on me. But being that I brought them with to be used when I reached the city I was going to, I have them, and for some reason or another, they work perfectly here.”

“What are you suggesting?” asked Celestia. “That we all talk with your father?”

“That’s exactly it,” Peter answered. “My computer allows me to talk to my pop via a camera that allows us to see each other. If I can use that, he can see who you all are, I can explain where I am, and I can tell him that I’m alright.

“I think I told you this before, Twilight, but my mom died weeks after giving birth to me. My pop was the only person he had left, and when I disappeared, he fell into a terrible depression. During my time here, I’ve been telling my pop that I haven’t made it to my restaurant because my car broke down. I only have so many times I can say that before he knows I’m lying.

“If he finds out I’m gone again, and he doesn’t know I’m alright, I don’t know what will happen to him. I love my pop so much, and I couldn’t bear to live peacefully knowing he’s in that state of mind or worse. If I can at least show him where I am, where I have been, and that I’m okay, I believe that will be enough for him.”

Celestia took a moment to ponder Peter’s words, but gave Peter a smile.

“If you really believe our disclosure to him will satisfy him, I will allow us to contact him. I can only assume that you want to contact him so late because of his job?”

“Yes. Every night at eleven, my pop goes home and leaves the kitchen to his sous chef until closing. He usually checks his email and messages before bed, and that’s when I can talk to him.”

“I see. Very well. I know how much your father means to you, and I want nothing more than to see the both of you happy. I shall stay up late for you so we can talk to him. Peter, Twilight, please meet me in my chambers at ten after eleven.”

“Thank you, Princess Celestia.”

“You’re very welcome, Peter,” she said with a nod.

Celestia turned and walked out of the room. Twilight stood still.

“What will you do now?” asked Twilight.

“I’m going to send my pop a message so he knows to Skype me.”

“Skype? Is that–”

“It’s how we’re going to talk, yes. Either way, I’d like to have some time to rest so I can prepare for this.”

“I understand. Would you like to see Crème?”

“Mmm. Not yet. I’d much rather have this thing sorted out before then.”

“Okay, then. Farewell, Peter. Welcome back.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Twilight exited the room as Peter pulled his phone from his pocket. Searching for his dad in his contacts, he pushed the icon that sent him to the messaging. Peter, tapping the buttons on it, wrote out a message.

Motel has a new router. Internet works really good here. Can we Skype after work?

Peter hit send and waited for the phone to tell him that the message was sent. When it appeared that it did. Peter placed the phone back into his pocket and walked back towards the balcony, leaning over it.

“And now we play the waiting game,” he whispered, looking at the streets.

Chapter 7: Heated Conversation

Twilight and Peter were underneath the covers of their bed, Twilight providing light with an illumination spell. The spent most of their time reading Equestrian story books. Many of Twilight’s favorites were about a unicorn named Starswirl the Bearded, her book constantly flipping to pictures of an elderly, grey stallion with a long white mane and a blue hat and cape.

“This is so cool,” Peter exclaimed. “You say this guy was real?”

“Yeah,” Twilight exclaimed. “One day, I’d like to be just like him.”

“I’m sure if you practice long enough, you’ll be a hundred times better than that geezer.”

“No I couldn’t! He wrote the many spells that I’m currently practicing. I don’t think I’ll ever get to that point.”

“Either way, he certainly is inspiring.”

“Yeah. What about you, Peter? What kind of stories do you read?”

“There was this one story that my pop used to read to me as a kid. It was about a boy who was best friends with a tree.”

“A tree?”

“Yes, a tree. As a boy, he loved to climb the tree, swing from its branches, and eat its apples. However, as the boy got older, he said he wanted money, so the tree gave him all her apples for him to sell. As an adult, he cuts her branches to build a house and chops down her trunk to make a boat.”

“That’s awful!” exclaimed Twilight. “How could he do that to her friend? How could that tree let him?”

“Because it loved him.”

“Could somepony really do that for love?”

“Beats me. But I know my pop would. He always has.”

“Huh?”

“I never knew my mom. Pop said she died right after I was born, so he raised me all by himself.”

“Oh, Peter,” gasped Twilight. “I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault or nothing. But now that I’m here, I can realize all that he did for me. I only wish there was some way I could tell him that I’m alright,” he said in a teary voice.

Peter felt a hoof on his shoulder, preventing him from letting out more tears.

“Peter,” Twilight said, “please. I’m sure he’s doing just fine. Well, I mean, I’m sure he’ll be fine. Celestia’s going to take you home, and you’ll be back with him. I guarantee it.”

“I sure hope so.”

Twilight yawned, putting her hoof over her mouth.

“I’m beat,” she said. “Let’s get some sleep.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

Twilight deactivated her spell and crawled to the back of the bed. Peter followed her lead on the other side of the bed. When Peter’s head popped out from under the covers, Twilight’s head was already there with her head on her pillow, her body covered up. Peter gave Twilight a couple of scratches on the neck.

“‘Night, Sparky,” he whispered.

“Goodnight, Peter,” she responded.

Peter kept his hand on Twilight’s neck, stroking it until he felt his eyes and consciousness drift away.

========================================

Peter walked into Celestia’s chambers with his laptop cradled in his arm while Twilight walked next to him. Peter saw Princess Celestia and gave her a nod, but he saw a second alicorn sitting next to her that he didn’t recognize.

She was dark blue with a flowing cobalt mane and tail with translucent, purple strands on the outer edges. Her tiara and broach were pure ebony, the broach having a simple white waning crescent on center. Her cutie mark was that of a large splotch of black all over her flank with the same crescent moon. Her slippers were an icy purple.

“So this the creature you’ve talked about, dear sister?” asked Luna to Celestia.

“He is,” she answered before turning to Peter, who continued to approach. “Peter, this is Princess Luna, my sister.”

Peter stopped dead in his tracks.

“Luna?” he asked. “As in the same Luna from the tale of the Mare in the Moon?”

“Please, understand, the one my sister calls ‘human,’” Luna explained, “I regret what I have done on that fateful night, and I wish to make amends. I am no longer Nightmare Moon. I only wish to be Princess Luna.”

Peter shrugged and continued to approach.

“Sounds good to me,” he spoke.

Peter extended his hand out to the dark alicorn. Having been told of the earthly custom of “shaking hands,” Luna extended her hoof out and let Peter take hold of it as he moved the arm up and down, introducing himself.

“My name’s–”

“Peter,” Luna interrupted. “Peter Falwell. Celestia has told me much about you since your arrival in Canterlot. However, I know full well that you aren’t here to make pleasantries with me. You wish to seek contact with your father and have him converse with us.”

“Sounds like the long and short of it.”

“Then let us waste no more time.”

Peter opened up his laptop and unlocked it with a password. Skype was already up and running, but the Skype logo left of his father’s name was still a green outline. Peter knew it might take a bit of time for him to get home or get settled, but with the time as it was, he should have been on at any second.

“Would you mind stepping to the side, princesses?” Peter asked. “I don’t want you to be the first thing he sees.”

Celestia and Luna looked at each other and gave them a nod, understanding Peter’s request. They stood up and walked down the stairs to Twilight. Peter sat Indian-style on the floor with his laptop directly in front of him. The laptop’s camera was facing away from the three ponies and all that he could do now was to wait for his dad to come on.

Peter’s stomach was crawling with fear that his father would break down again knowing that his son was where he was. A harder pang sprung through Peter’s blood as the icon next to his dad’s name became a green shape with a white check inside. His father was online. Peter gave a quick breath to prepare himself. He then glanced over the screen to see Twilight, Celestia, and Luna standing there expectantly. Celestia gave him a nod, telling him to go whenever he was ready. Peter took one last big inhale, clicked his dad’s avatar, and pressed the button that read “Video Call.”

The six note ringing sound was heard and Peter looked at his screen. On top was his father’s avatar, and below it was his. Peter got more nervous with each dialtone that rung through his computer’s speakers. It stopped and the icon grew larger, the sound now sounding like a shrill siren from the feedback on his dad’s microphone.

“There you are!” Peter’s dad exclaimed. “It’s about time I could see your face.”

The icon disappeared and was replaced with a shot of his dad on camera, sitting at his desk in his home office. Peter knew his dad could see him now too. There was no going back now.

“Hey, pop,” Peter answered.

“Where the hell are you?” his dad exclaimed, his face getting closer to the camera. “That don’t look like any motel I’ve ever seen. What, did you decide to go to Vegas or something?”

Peter couldn’t beat around the bush. He had to get this off his chest.

“Pop,” he said. “I’m… not at a motel. I never was at a motel. I never even had problems with my engine.”

“…What do you mean?”

“Pop. What I’m about to tell you is going to make me sound crazy, but I want you to promise me that you won’t leave this conversation and that you’ll let me explain myself.”

“…I don’t understand? What happened? Where are you?”

Peter bowed his head, still unsure if he could muster the courage to say what he was going to say.

“Peter?”

“Okay!” Peter exclaimed. “Pop, you know when I went missing all those years ago?”

“…Peter, what does that have to do with–”

“Pop, pop… When I was a kid, a magical force took me to this new world where I lived for the past year. It’s inhabitants took care of me and kept me safe until they returned me home. For whatever reason, I got sent back, and now, I can’t return.”

Peter’s dad only looked at him like he gave him a complex Calculus equation, but was also angry at his son’s ridiculous tale.

“Peter, that’s not funny. Now really, where are you?”

Peter sighed. He knew that a mere explanation wouldn’t work. He’d need proof.

“Twilight,” Peter called, wagging his fingers towards himself.

Twilight galloped over to him and peered her face into the camera. Peter’s dad was now heavily perplexed as he tried to make heads or tails of the creature now before him.

“Pop,” Peter explained, “this is my good friend Twilight. We were, for lack of a better term, roommates when I arrived here. Twilight, this is my pop.”

Twilight laid upon Peter’s lap while looking straight at the camera, both her and Peter’s faces visible on the screen.

“Hello, Mr. Fawell,” she spoke.

“Did that thing just talk?” Peter’s father exclaimed.

“Yes, pop, she did, and before you try passing it off as some neat little special effect, just try asking her some things.”

“Okay,” he said, beginning to pant, “what are you?”

“Me?” Twilight asked, putting her hoof to her chest. “I’m a pony. A unicorn to be more exact.”

Peter’s dad’s face was clearly stunned. Not only did it answer his question to a tee, but its mouth moved in exact accuracy with her voice. Peter backed away from his computer and looked for his phone. He found it on the other end of the desk and picked it up.

Peter’s dad dialed the number for his son and waited for the phone to answer. Someone was clearly playing a prank on him. A cruel, sick prank. As the first dial tone went on, a noise came from his computer, and when he turned, he saw Peter taking his phone out from his pocket as Beethoven sounded out through it. Peter answered the phone and put the device to his ear.

“I figured you might try that,” spoke Peter’s voice on both his dad’s phone and the computer speakers, “so I brought my phone just in case. I’m telling you, pop, these things are real.”

“These…” stammered Peter’s dad, dropping the phone from his trembling hand, “things?”

Peter’s dad sat back in his chair and put his face back close to the camera, his expression livid.

“What have you done to my son, you bitch?” he shouted.

Twilight didn’t know what bitch meant, but the word was blunt and hard enough for Twilight to recoil in fear at the sound.

“Pop!” Peter shouted. “She didn’t do anything! It’s not her fault!”

“Where’s your leader?” growled Peter’s father. “I want to speak to her now!”

Celestia saw this as her cue to act, galloping to join Peter and Twilight before things got out of hand.

“Peter!” exclaimed his dad once again. “What have they done to you? Are you alright?”

“They haven’t done anything!” Peter shouted back. “I’m fine!”

“What is going on?” Celestia asked as her body came into frame.

“Who the fuck are you?” Peter’s father yelled back. “Where is my son?”

Celestia picked up the computer so her face was in frame as well as her sister.

“My name is Celestia,” she calmly answered with a stern look on her face. “And your son is with us in the land of Equestria.”

“Don’t bullshit me! What do I sound like to you, an idiot?”

“No, but you certainly sound like someone who’s afraid for the well-being of their son.”

“What do you want? I’ll give you anything. How much money will it take?”

“Celestia,” spoke Peter’s voice from below, “please give me that. I want to talk to him.”

Peter’s head came up in the screen, Celestia still holding the computer with her magic.

“Peter,” sobbed his dad, “where are you? I’ll have someone find you. I won’t lose you again.”

“Pop,” his son protested with a tearful smile, “you don’t have to come look for me. I’m safe. I always have been. These ponies are my friends.”

“So they’ve brainwashed you already? What is going on?”

“POP!”

Peter’s dad fell silent.

“I want to tell you. When I disappeared the first time, I was sent to this world where these ponies are the dominant species. After they found me, they kept me safe and warm, and they even sent me back.”

Peter’s dad didn’t want to believe it, but with Celestia and Luna standing behind him, he was slowly understanding it all.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, and I’m expecting you to take it all in, but I want you to know that I’m safe. I’m okay. I’m in good company.”

“Can’t he just come home?” Peter’s father began to sob. “I just want to see my son.”

“I’m sorry,” Celestia said, lifting the computer back up. “But Peter has been bound to this world and it would be unwise to send him home.”

“Why!? If you can bring him here, surely you can send him back.”

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple, Mr. Falwell. Peter’s heart has been bound to the friends that he’s made here, and because of that, he will always be sent back here to Equestria no matter how many times we try to send him back.”

Peter’s father’s expression morphed back into rage.

“What… Do you think I’m just going to sit here and expect me to believe your mumbo-jumbo abra-kadabra bullshit?”

“I wouldn’t, but then again, you are talking to a talking pony with a horn and wings.”

“What?”

“Perhaps I can show you.”

Celestia pushed the computer back, showing herself, Luna, Twilight, and Peter in full frame. Peter’s father saw the yellow glowing from Celestia’s horn. However, it was when she unfurled both of her wings that Peter’s father became horrified.

“Oh my Christ,” he gasped. “You’re really real, aren’t you? This isn’t some joke?”

“Yes, pop,” Peter said, walking up close to the camera. “Like I said, they’re here keeping me safe. I know how hard it’s been to lose mom and then lose me, but you knew I was going to have to leave the nest eventually.”

Peter’s father was beside himself at this point, his hands covering his entire face as he sobbed and continued to hear his son.

“Pop, you’ve done so much for me that I can’t begin to repay you back for. I’m sorry that you had to find out this way, but I needed to tell you eventually. I mean, how many other excuses could I come up with to say, ‘I didn’t make it to the city, but I’m still trying?’”

Peter’s father pulled his hands from his face and really looked into his son’s face. He could see in his eyes that Peter was in no danger or fear. He truly felt safe and protected. Peter’s father wiped his eyes with his hands.

“So…” Peter’s father spoke, “Yesterday morning… was the last time we got to really see each other?”

“‘Fraid so, pop,” Peter responded, his own eyes forming tears. “But hey, thank God for Skype, am I right?”

Peter’s father was hardly in a mood to chuckle, but it was obvious from his shifting face that one was coming on soon.

“I… I can’t believe this. Even after all of that… I still couldn’t keep you with me.”

Celestia floated the computer down to Twilight, who finished tapping her leg with her hoof to get her word in.

“Mr. Falwell,” Twilight spoke. “I know it won’t bring your son back, but I want to let you know that your son is one of the best friends I’ve ever made. I don’t think I would have ever met such a kind and caring individual if it wasn’t for you.”

Peter’s dad then did something that made Twilight giggle: he gave a smile, encouraged by her words. Celestia then brought herself to the camera again.

“Mr. Falwell,” she spoke. “In fact, do you have a first name?”

“I’m… Patrick.”

“Well, Patrick. Like Twilight has told you, I appreciate all the hard work you’ve put into raising your son, and I couldn’t imagine a better father to raise him than you did. And as Peter’s friend, I want to do everything I possibly can to make sure his time here, as well as him being away from you, is as painless as possible.”

“But… what about his dream?” asked Patrick. “How’s he going to open his restaurant now?”

“I did think about that. Twilight has told me that he brought quite a lot of money along with him. I can’t imagine that money from your world would be worth anything here, but I’m won’t allow Peter’s dream to die here. As a service to you and to him, I’ll see to it that Peter is still going to achieve his dream. However, he’ll need to earn it first.”

“Huh?” Peter wondered, walking back up.

“Yes, Peter. As much as I want to allow you to run a restaurant, I don’t think its fair to just give you your own restaurant so I’m going to issue you a challenge.”

“A challenge? What is it?”

“I will give you the details tomorrow morning. If there’s one thing I know about chefs, it’s that the best ones are quick on their feet. Am I right, Patrick?”

Patrick returned his gaze to the camera once he heard the question was directed towards him.

“That’s absolutely true,” he replied with a nod.

“Then it’s settled. I will give Peter’s challenge rules tomorrow. If Peter can complete and pass his challenge, I will personally purchase a lot for him with which to run his own restaurant. In the meantime, I think we all should get our rest. We all have busy days ahead of us. I just want to thank you, Patrick, for taking the time to talk with us. I know how hard it must be for you to not see your son again…”

“What are you talking about?” Patrick exclaimed. “I’m talking to him right now! Speaking of, how are you even able to talk to me? How do you get internet or service there if you’re not even on Earth?”

“I don’t know,” Peter answered. “Magic can be silly, I guess. I know it raises more questions, but I can’t answer it. Please, I’ll do what I can to stay in touch with you, but I want you to know that you don’t need to worry about me. These guys will take care of me.”

Patrick looked into the faces of Peter, Twilight, and Celestia as they gathered towards it, each one of them telling him that Peter would be alright.

“Then you take good care of him,” Patrick responded with a small choke.

“I’m glad to see you’re taking this well now,” Celestia chuckled. “What time do you need to be at your own restaurant.”

“My restaurant?” Patrick wondered. “How did you know about my–”

“Hello!” Peter called, leaning into the camera while waving before he leaned back out.

“Aha. I don’t usually get there until ten in the morning.”

“Then I’ll start the challenge tomorrow at eight so we can watch it together.”

“That sounds great. Peter, you up for this?”

“I was born ready, pop.”

“That’s my boy. Please, Peter, call me when you wake up.”

“Sure thing, pop. I love you so much.”

Peter put his fingers over the camera, and through the feed, Peter saw as Patrick touched the screen of his own computer.

“I love you too,” Patrick said. “Knock ‘em dead.”

“Sure thing, pop. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

“Good night.”

Peter clicked the red button on the bottom of the Skype program, ending the call. With that, he closed the lid on his laptop, looking up and thanking God as a couple of tears ran down. After placing his computer on the ground, he walked over to Celestia and Twilight and gave them each a hug.

“Thank you so much for doing that for me,” Peter sighed. “I don’t know what could have happened without you.”

“It’s okay, Peter. Your father deserved as much. But I think you should get to bed. I meant it when I said you had a busy day tomorrow.”

“Alright then. Let’s go, Twilight.”

Peter turned back to see Luna, who was only able to observe the entire spectacle.

“I’m, uh…” Peter said while scratching the back of his head, “sorry you had to see and hear all that.”

“It’s quite alright, Peter,” Luna admitted. “I’m merely thankful that your father has come to terms with your being here.”

“Well, I guess I’ll see you in the AM too.”

“Nay. I stay up and watch over the night and slumber during the day. I shall give you my farewell.”

Peter didn’t wait, and instead gave Luna a hug, surprising her.

“Thank you,” he said. “I do hope we can still see each other again.”

“Yes,” Luna said as Peter let go. “I am most eager to learn of you, but I believe my sister can provide me much information.”

“Then I guess this is goodnight.”

“Yes. Good night, Peter. May your challenge be in your favor.”

Peter gave her a nod and walked out of the room with Twilight, giving a wave to Celestia as he did. Peter walked down the halls with Twilight at his side. While his father was now accepting of his being there, he knew that he was going to miss him like crazy. While Crème Fraiche was a massive inspiration, without either her or his father, his dreams of becoming a chef would have never existed.

========================================

Peter, 19, presented a plate on one of the kitchen counters to Patrick. On it was an even bed of creamy parmesan risotto with bits of leek and parsley mixed inside of it. Sitting to the right was a filet of salmon seasoned with lemon pepper and dill, all wrapped in a crispy blanket of pancetta in a small layer of white-wine reduction.

Peter looked nervously at his father and his plate. It was the first time he actually cooked a meal that didn’t come from his father’s menu or a cookbook. A creation all his own.

Patrick picked up a fork and cut the salmon. Peter exhaled in slight joy as he heard the mild crunch of the pancetta as the fork broke through it. Patrick speared the bite with the pancetta still hanging onto the top of the filet. He then put his mouth under the fork to catch the drips of the sauce and put the whole thing in his mouth.

Peter looked nervously as his father chewed and let the flavors meld. Peter knew his father when he was ready to judge, and there was only one thing for him to do before he made his decision. Patrick placed the fork back onto the plate and looked Peter in the eyes.

“That was delicious,” he said.

Peter smiled as he heard his father explain himself.

“The pancetta adds a really light, but noticeable flavor to the fish, and it adds a very nice crunch along with the skin. It’s seasoned and cooked to perfection. And the risotto…”

Patrick picked up the fork and scooped some of the rice onto it, putting it into his mouth soon after. It didn’t take him long before he placed the fork back down.

“That’s very nice. There’s not too much leek to overpower the rice, and it complements the fish beautifully. The rice is cooked great, and it’s very creamy while still easy to eat with a fork. Yep. I think we got tonight’s special.”

Peter stood still, his body trembling with excitement as he beamed.

“Good job, Peter. You really could run a restaurant with talents like that.”

“Thanks, pop.”

Patrick walked out of the kitchen to report that Peter’s dish would be in that night’s menu. With his father out of the room, Peter lifted his knee and jammed his elbow backwards with a loud, satisfied grunt.

========================================

Yeah, Peter thought as he made it back to his room. I’m ready.

Peter walked inside while Twilight stood in the entryway. Peter had to admit that his bed looked inviting after having a day like today. Putting his laptop on the dresser, he went to the two sets of clothes put on his bed. One was a pair of baggy nylon pants and an extra-large t-shirt with Stanley Kubrick’s face upon it. To the right of it was a pair of black socks, a pair of briefs, blue jeans, and a red Phish t-shirt.

“I’m going to change now,” Peter said. “If you could be so kind…”

Twilight gasped and blushed.

“Oh…” she muttered, “right. I’ll see you in the morning, Peter. And I know that saying this might sound awkward, but…”

“Yes?”

“Welcome back home.”

Peter gasped, but he realized that for all extents and purposes, he was now stuck in a place that he used to call home, so it only made sense that he really was “back home.”

“Thanks, Twilight. Goodnight.”

With that, Twilight yawned and walked away from the room, closing the door behind her. Peter, his privacy now secured, put on his pajamas quickly, knowing that if he were too slow, he might collapse from exhaustion then and there. Once they were on, Peter put the next day’s clothes on the floor and jumped into the bed.

Peter’s body was now spent. The next time he could think of moving a muscle would be when he closed his eyes to sleep, which he began to do rather quickly.

Yeah, he thought as his mind faded off. I’m ready.

Chapter 8: Tension à la Mode

Peter stumbled into the kitchen. He saw as Crème Fraiche was working two different frying pans, using a spoon on occasion to taste the contents inside and ingredients if needed. Peter had seen Twilight practice her magic, but he had never seen someone use magic so fluidly and diligently. He didn’t want to bother her; his father taught him better than to interfere with a chef in the middle of cooking. He hid behind the counter and got the best sight that he could.

Using her magic, she lifted the large head of a portabella mushroom and placed it on a plate. A thin, brown sauce was lightly drawn around the mushroom cap, followed by a careful drizzling of sauce over the cap. From a saucepan on the back burner, Crème took a mound of mashed potatoes that were checkered with bits of skin and formed it into a sizable sphere. Once she was finished, she halved the ball and placed the perfect hemisphere on the plate. Buttery green beans were placed into a teepee over the hemisphere of potatoes, the spuds keeping the vegetables in place.

Peter gasped in admiration as Crème Fraiche was wiping the plate down of any undesirable spills of her sauce. However, Peter’s noise broke Crème from her concentration and alerted her to his presence. Peter fully hid his body behind the counter as he cupped his hand over his mouth, not wanting to make another sound.

“Why, hello there,” cooed Crème’s voice, causing Peter’s voice to honk in surprise. “Don’t be alarmed, little one. I’m not angry, now please come out of there.”

Peter nervously did as he was told, standing up, turning around and walking up to her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, bowing. “I was just watching you cook! You’re really good at it and I like to watch.”

Crème Fraiche gave Peter a heartened chuckle, pleased with the boys appreciation with her craft.

“You see, my pop owns a restaurant and I like to watch him cook to. It’s just… I’ve never seen someone do it with magic before! It was kinda’ cool.”

Crème’s newfound knowledge of his a father’s culinary expertise made her gasp slightly.

“My, how interesting,” she sighed. “I’d love to talk more about it, but I have to deliver Princess Celestia her supper.”

Crème put her completed plate on a tray underneath a cloth napkin and a knife and fork to the right and left of it, respectively. Crème left the kitchen without another word. Peter stared at her, mesmerized by her subtle beauty and grace. He walked out of the kitchen, the opening door bringing him to Crème Fraiche’s attention.

“Remind me if I’m wrong,” Crème began, resuming off their conversation, “but your name is Peter, correct?”

“Uh, yes,” he answered.

“So, Peter, you’re interested in my cooking. Do you want to become a chef yourself?”

Peter was unprepared for such a question. He was still relatively new to Equestria, and he was more focused on getting home, not evaluating his future career.

“I…” thought Peter aloud, “I don’t know. I really don’t know what I want to do.”

“That is quite alright,” Crème assured him. “I’m not sure how these customs work on your world, but many foals your age still haven’t gotten their cutie marks yet.”

“Their what marks?”

“You see this mark on my flank?” she asked, flicking her tail over the frying pan decaled on her rump.

“Oh, yeah. Twilight has one of those. And what do you mean ‘haven’t gotten them yet?’ Is it like a tattoo? Does it hurt?”

“Of course not,” giggled Crème Fraiche. “You see, when a pony discovers their special talent, a mark that represents said talent magically appears there.”

“That’s weird.”

“It might be weird for you, but for everypony else, it’s a rite of passage, a step into adulthood.”

“Yeah, sure. I just don’t want to go home with one of those things on my butt.”

Crème Fraiche gave a hearty laugh which Peter joined in as well.

“Don’t worry yourself about that, Peter. Only ponies are able to gain cutie marks.”

“Oooh, good.”

“But is cooking something that interests you?”

“Kind of. My pop owns a restaurant where we live. Somedays, he’ll bring me with to work and I just sit and watch the kitchen go about.”

“What is it like?” Crème asked, genuinely interested. “I mean, a kitchen on your world. You see, being Celestia’s personal chef, I don’t get to experience the hustle-and-bustle of working in an actual restaurant. But I assume that is the case in your world?”

“Uh… yeah, I guess so.”

“Forgive me if I tend to talk to you like an adult; bad habit of mine. It’s just I’ve never would have thought a child such as yourself would be so interested in cooking.”

“It sounds like a cool job,” Peter answered with a shrug, “but it also looks very tough. I mean, the way you do it, you make it look so easy! I don’t think I can ever do that!”

“Oh, Peter,” chided Crème, “you shouldn’t sell yourself so short. Certainly, the culinary world can be challenging, but I guarantee you that no better feeling comes from mastering such an art as this.”

“You really think I can do it?” asked Peter as they came up to Celestia’s chamber.

“If you put your heart and soul into it,” Crème answered as calmly and supportive as possible as she opened the doors, “there is nothing you can’t do.”

Celestia was alerted to both Crème Fraiche and Peter’s appearances, smiling upon seeing the two together.

“Your supper, your majesty,” proclaimed Crème as she bowed and passed the tray to Celestia.

“It looks delicious as always,” Celestia complimented, taking the napkin from under the plate and stuffing a corner of it into her broach as a bib. “Thank you.”

Crème bowed down and turned to leave, Peter following her.

“You two look very cute together,” Celestia called out.

“Pardon me, your majesty?” wondered Crème, turning back.

“I hope you two are having a good time together.”

“Oh yes!” answered Peter. “She’s awesome! You should see her in action.”

“I have. That’s why I hired her.”

“And I must say,” Crème reasoned, “Peter is quite a charming young colt… or…”

“Boy,” responded Peter.

“Boy! Right, that’s it. I expect he and I to get along very well.”

“That’s wonderful. You two are dismissed now.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

The two of them left the room and headed back towards the kitchen.

“Peter,” asked Crème, “I realize that you and your friend Twilight’s dinnertimes aren’t for a few more hours. Is there something special you’d like me to make for you?”

“You know,” Peter said, his thumb and index finger on his chin, “my dad makes this delicious grilled cheese sandwich at his restaurant with a cup of his homemade tomato soup.”

“Grilled cheese, huh?” she responded with a slight smile. “You know, it’s Twilight’s day off. You should run and play with her. In the meantime, come back to the kitchen in two hours’ time so you can show me how to make it. Would you like to?”

“Would I?” Peter exclaimed, his hands clasped by his chest.

“Then it’s settled,” she chuckled. “Meet me back there at five o’clock on the dot. Don’t be late!”

Crème then trotted off down the halls and back towards the kitchen. Peter smiled contently, knowing that she would be his “pop” for the time he was here.

========================================

*BEEP**BEEP**BEEP**BEEP**BEEP**BEEP*

Peter’s alarm went off. Knowing that there were others inside the castle with him who were more than likely sleeping still, Peter quickly rushed to his phone and turned the alarm off. The clock read six o’clock on the dot, and he knew his father would be up by now.

Peter went to his contacts and browsed to find his dad. Clicking on his dad’s name, he pressed the “Call Mobile” button that would bring him back to his dad. After a couple seconds of dialtone, he answered.

“Hey, Peter,” Patrick answered.

“Pop,” replied Peter. “And, you know where I am, right?”

“Didn’t you say you were in a shop outside of Philly? Has the car been fixed yet?”

Peter took a heavy, anxiety-ridden sigh. There’s no way he could have thought it was a dream.

“Ha! Yes, Peter, we talked about it yesterday, I know exactly where you are. Are you ready for your challenge?”

“I was ready the day I stepped foot in your kitchen.”

“That’s my boy. Any idea what she’ll make you do?”

“I dunno. It’s hard to say. I doubt that Celestia will be inclined to make the challenge too lenient. I mean, there is an entire restaurant at stake here.”

“Right. Right, right. You shouldn’t need to worry about a thing. You were easily one of my best cooks in the kitchen, you have an outstanding palate, and you’ve got that Falwell blood pumping in your veins.”

“Thanks, pop.”

“So, what’s the plan? You’ve got two hours.”

“First, I was going to take a bath. Then I was just going to tool around with some ideas that I could use for the challenge if the challenge calls for them.”

“Not a bad plan.”

“Then when it comes time for the challenge to go on, I’ll bring my computer into the chambers with Celestia so you can watch how I do at the end.”

“Sounds good. I know you’ll do fine, so go wash up.”

“Sure thing. See you in a bit, pop.”

“Alrighty. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Peter pressed the red button on his screen and went to go get his clothes and toiletries, grabbing them from the floor and heading to the bathroom.

Upon opening the doors, he looked at the central in-ground tub from a faucet on the side. To save some time, Peter walked over to the faucet and turned the hot and cold knobs to get the perfect warm temperature. Peter set up his clothes over a closed straw hamper behind him and acknowledged the shelf of towels right next to it. He also found his sink where he could brush his teeth and a cabinet full of soaps, bath salts, and other cleaning and bath materials.

Peter undressed himself and put his clothes in a neat, small pile for him to pick up afterwards. Peter saw that the tub was beginning to really fill up, so he went to the faucet and shut it off. Peter then carefully stepped his fit, naked body into the tub, sliding the rest of it in as he relaxed. Peter couldn’t remember the last time he had baths, being that he used a shower, but it was certainly a very pleasing experience.

____________________________________________________________

Crème Fraiche walked into Celestia’s chambers with two trays, each holding a cup with a soft-boiled egg inside of it with a spoon beside it. The years had started to become less favorable to Crème; her slender and lean physique had gained a few pounds, her short silky mane was a thinner and beginning to grey, and her eyes begun to develop crow’s feet.

However, Celestia cared not about her aging over the years. Celestia gave a small lick of her lips as she saw her egg come closer.

“Your egg, your majesty,” she said with a slightly deeper accent, bowing down.

“Thank you, Crème,” she said, taking her own tray, “please, sit down beside me.”

“But why? What is the occasion?”

“I’ve invited someone whom I believe you will be very happy to see. In fact, he should be arriving any minute.”

Crème gasped.

“Gustav le Grand?” she asked, getting excited.

“No, no one like that, but please, eat your egg before it gets cold.”

“Of course, your majesty.”

Crème sat beside her ruler with her egg at the ready. Cutting the top off with her spoon, she daintily scooped out the moist whites and creamy yolks as she put them in her mouth, giving glances to the door every so often to see who would come through them.

____________________________________________________________

Peter was laying on the bed, fully dressed in his jeans and red t-shirt. His mind was racing with different ideas for dishes that he could provide to Celestia and whomever else might be judging him. He knew that he couldn’t prepare any meat dishes like he did at Falwell’s, but he remembered the Equestrian cuisine well, and there was no way he was going to mess this up.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Peter shot off from the bed and walked up to go answer it. Upon opening the door, a pegasus guard greeted him.

“Sir Peter,” he spoke.

“Yeah?” the human answered.

“Celestia requests your appearance in her chambers.”

“Already?”

“It would be unwise to keep her waiting.”

The guard, using his hoof, closed the door, leaving Peter a little astounded.

“Damn straight, it would,” he muttered.

Peter went to his dresser and grabbed his red hairband, tying his hair back. He then found his phone and laptop on the bed and dresser respectively, putting both of them in his bag eagerly and walking out of the room.

____________________________________________________________

Crème Fraiche had just gotten the last over her egg out of the shell. With her light breakfast finished, she placed the tray away and looked up, only to see the doors still closed.

“Ugh!” she grunted in frustration to Celestia. “I can’t stand it anymore! Who is this mystery guest?”

I knock was heard at the door, with Crème quickly standing and looking up like an alerted deer.

“You wanted to see me, Princess?” said the voice of Peter.

“Wait,” wondered Crème with her hoof to her chin. “Why does that voice sound so similar?”

“Yes,” answered Celestia to the guest outside the door, “you may come in now.”

Peter opened the door to see Celestia and Crème Fraiche, the latter standing but looking at the human with confusion. Peter, however, recognized her immediately, doubling over from nostalgia as he put his hand to his mouth, his smiled peeking from the sides. It was at Peter’s reaction that Crème realized who it was, as only one human could have possibly recognized her.

“Crème Fraiche,” gasped Peter.

“Peter?” she squealed, tears forming.

Peter put down his bag and jogged forwards, leading Crème to gallop towards Peter with choked sobs and a wide smile. The two friends met in the middle of the chambers with Crème standing on her hind legs as she wrapped her arms over Peter’s shoulders while Peter embraced her back.

“I haven’t seen you in so long!” Crème exclaimed as she rubbed her head against the side of Peter’s. “Look at how much you’ve grown!”

“You’re just as pretty as I remembered you!” proclaimed Peter.

“Oh, I can’t believe this!”

Crème let go of him and turned to Celestia.

“Your highness,” she asked, “what is this? Why is Peter here?”

“I wanted to tell you,” Celestia said, standing up and walking down to meet them, “that Peter has been thrust back into Equestria through the magical bonds he created with us. It would be pointless for him to return, as he’d be sent back here in a matter of time, so he has opted to stay.”

Crème turned to look at Peter sadly, who only gave her a shrug.

“But…” she sighed, “Peter. Your father…”

“Oh, that’s right! You should meet him too! Let’s bring him on!”

Peter giddily walked to his bag and brought it closer to Celestia’s throne. Celestia followed Peter there while Crème looked in confusion.

“What is happening?” asked Crème. “What are we doing?”

“Peter is able to contact his father on his own world,” answered Celestia. “We explained Peter’s situation to him last night and he’s accepted it. He also wants to be present for Peter’s challenge today.”

“Challenge. What challenge?”

Peter had already sat on Celestia’s throne, opened up his computer, logged on to Skype, and rung for his dad. Knowing that Patrick would expect a call soon, Peter wasn’t surprised to see Patrick answer him after just one ringtone.

“There you are,” Patrick said. “Is it time yet?”

“I suppose it is,” answered Celestia, coming into frame.

“Good morning, there… Celestia, was it?”

“Yes, it was, and a very good morning to you. Patrick, I would like to introduce you to another one of Peter’s close friends: Crème Fraiche.”

Peter rotated his screen around so his dad could see the creamy white mare standing and waving.

“Oh, hello there,” responded Patrick.

“Hello, Patrick. I just want to say that it’s an honor to meet you. I’m Crème Fraiche, and I am Celestia’s personal chef.”

“You mean, you cook for royalty? And you’re honored to meet me?”

“But of course! If it had not been for you, I would not have met such a fine young man as the son you have raised.”

“Why, thank you.”

“You should be thanking her again, pop,” Peter interrupted. “I don’t think if it were for her, I wouldn’t have nearly the drive and passion in cooking as I do today.”

“You see, Patrick,” explained Crème, “he told me how interested he was in cooking because of you, so I allowed him to join me in the kitchen to watch me prepare meals, as well as to give him some advice.”

“Strangely enough,” Patrick mused aloud, “Peter did come back to me knowing a little more about cooking than I thought he would have for a boy his age. So, I guess I do have you to thank again, don’t I?”

“Perish the thought! I’m just happy to see you still happy even though your son is here.”

“Yes, it certainly will be different. So, is it time for the challenge yet?”

“I suppose now is as good of a time as any,” Celestia spoke. “Peter, would you please stand before my throne. And leave your device here.”

Peter did as he was told, putting the computer down on the floor and standing at the foot of the steps. Celestia stood before Peter with his computer held by Celestia and the screen facing him, his father awaiting the rules.

“Peter. I have watched you grow up as a young boy, and you have reappeared to us again as an adult. You have shown that your time here has left an imprint on your heart, and with that impression, you wished to run your own restaurant, but were pulled away from that dream. Today, however, I am giving you the chance to pursue that dream once more.

“In order for this to happen, however, you must pass this test which I shall soon bestow upon you. Failure will result in you resuming on your own in any way you can. But being that I love you as my own child, I want nothing more for you to pass this test, but I must ask before you begin: Are you ready.”

“Was born ready,” Peter answered stoically.

“Very good. Your challenge may sound simple, but it’s in your execution that you will shine or break. I wish for you to make eight different dishes: one soup, one salad, one sandwich, one appetizer, three entrees of your choosing and creation, and one dessert.

“You shall have two hours to prepare, cook, plate, and serve these dishes before us. It shall be I, Crème Fraiche, and my sister Luna who shall judge each dish and give you our feedback. Upon reaching a consensus, if all eight of your dishes are enough to impress us, you will pass your test. So, now I ask one more time, Peter Falwell: are you ready?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Very well. I assume you remember where the kitchen is?”

“I can get there blindfolded.”

“Good. All of your materials shall be in there. Is everything in order, Crème?”

“Except for the pot I used to boil our eggs, the two dishes I served them in, and these two trays, everything should be shipshape.”

“Excellent. Crème, do you have any last words?”

“Peter, I spent that year teaching you much that I knew. Now, I cannot be of any assistance to you. I want to see how much you’ve grown since then. I wish you the best of luck.”

“Patrick?”

There was a slight pause before he gave his answer.

“Kick some ass!”

Peter couldn’t help but chuckle despite having the most pressure that he ever felt in his life. Before Celestia could commence the challenge, a shrill voice shouted out.

“Wait!” Twilight yelled, galloping into the room with Spike on her back.

“Ah, Twilight,” greeted Celestia, “so glad of you to join us. Peter was just about to begin his challenge. Do you have anything you’d like to say to him before he goes off?”

It took Twilight a couple of seconds to control her panting, but she wanted to delay Peter no longer, so she began.

“Peter, I’m so grateful to have met someone like you. Those days I spent with Princess Celestia wouldn’t have been nearly as great if it had not been for you being by my side. I have full confidence that with your heart and passion, you’ll pass this with flying colors.”

Peter nodded with a smile, uplifted by her best friend’s words.

“With that said, I believe we can begin.”

Peter’s legs tensed up, ready to run off and begin.

“Peter, your two hours begins… now!”

Peter whipped his body backwards as he ran out the door and down the hallways. Twilight, Patrick, Celestia, and Crème watched with warm smiles as Peter engaged himself in the hardest test he would ever face.

“Crème,” whispered Celestia. “Go and gather a table for Peter to place his food on.”

“Of course, your majesty.”

Crème ran out of the room too, eager to help Peter in any which way she could.

“I shall go get Luna,” Celestia said as she walked off, leaving Twilight and Spike alone in the room with Peter’s laptop.

“Do you really think Peter’s got the chops to do this?” asked Spike.

“Whatever the princesses told him to do,” Twilight answered, “I know Peter will succeed.”

========================================

Peter walked into the kitchen of Le Cordon Bleu Culinary Arts College in Chicago for the first time. While his father’s kitchen at Falwell’s was nothing to scoff at, Peter was just amazed by it all. Not just by the size, but just the fact that he was actually here. He ran his fingers along the metal countertops and the state-of-the-art stoves, and just imagined of all the things he could do there.

“Well,” he said to himself. “Time to make my first impression.”

========================================

Peter rushed into the kitchen. It was as if the world had slowed down but his mind remained in real time. He managed to see Crème’s pot in the sink which he would wash for her when he would have time. Perhaps it would be a curveball in his challenge. But right now, he needed to think and create. Peter grabbed as many pots and pans his hands could carry and began to place them on the stove.

When his arranging was complete, Peter ran back to the walk-in pantry to look at all of the different ingredients he had to work with. While his challenge would be taxing, he could at least rest on the fact that Peter’s list of options was nearly unlimited. Peter smirked as he eyeballed various ingredients in order.

“Showtime,” he whispered to himself.

Author's Note

And now, a past and present of Creme Fraiche:

Chapter 10: Soul Kitchen - Part 2

Peter had already planned everything out. He had two pots heating with seasoned water inside of them. Along with that, he had two pans at the ready, one with melting butter, the other with olive oil.

He had his portabella mushrooms lined out on his counter. One thing he realized back on Earth was that with the way that Crème garnished them, portabella mushrooms had to have been the pony equivalent of steak. Peter wanted to do something special for that. Peter wanted some French cuisine, and what entrée was more vegetarian and more French than ratatouille? Finally, when he worked on the appetizer and sandwich, he made a ball of pasta dough made with buckwheat flour, grappa liqueur, and ale.

Peter grabbed a rolling pin and a knife and placed them on the table. He then ran to the fridge and grabbed his dough. Peter put it back onto the counter and grabbed the rolling pin and pressed it over the dough until it became a large, flat sheet. Peter took the knife and begun cutting them into quarter-inch thick strips.

Once he had a decent amount of wheat-speckled pasta, he got out three red pepper and placed them on the still hot grill, allowing them to roast. Peter threw garlic and sage into a pan of melted butter and allowed it to cook. In a pot to the side of it, which was beginning to simmer with water, Peter put in cubed potatoes and spinach. The other pot, whose water was in a rolling boil, was filled with a few whole, red potatoes.

Peter turned the peppers on the grill over, seeing that their blackened sides were telling him that he was doing well. While everything was cooking, Peter went to the zucchini, yellow squash, eggplant, and some small tomatoes on the counter. With swiftness and dexterity, Peter cut all four vegetables in just under a minute. Peter then cut and minced another tomato, onion, cloves of garlic, and some basil leaves and set them aside.

With another turn of his peppers, he went to the jar of breadcrumbs, the brick of bleu cheese, the jar of horseradish, and the bottle of olive oil from before that he set on the counter. Peter quickly crumbled the bleu cheese into one of two bowls and scooped some horseradish into the second bowl. Pouring a touch of olive oil into each bowl, he then applied the breadcrumbs until they were each a nice clump.

With a couple of minutes left on his potato/spinach boil and his peppers, Peter went to his garlic-sage butter and pressed down on the cloves with a spoon, secreting the oils from within. Once each clove was spent, Peter discarded them and stirred the butter mixture up, setting it aside on a free space on the counter.

Peter, his peppers now finished, took the blackened vegetables from the grill and placed them on a plate protected with a tower to allow them to sweat. Peter went back to his pasta and gently moved it to a cutting board, transferring it to his potato/spinach boil. Peter took this time to take a few more garlic cloves and cut them up.

With a small bit of time in between, Peter went to the sink to get a quick drink of water. He figured as much that the entrees would be the most taxing part of his test, and he figured right.

____________________________________________________________

Celestia and Luna looked at each other with slight worry. Patrick couldn’t see them properly through the computer screen, but Peter’s absence was beginning to eat at him.

“He has thirty minutes left,” Luna said. “I hope he’s biding his time well.”

“I can’t see why he wouldn’t,” answered Celestia. “He’s a bright, young man. I have full confidence that he’ll pull through.”

“If I know my son,” Patrick added. “He’ll still knock your socks… or, your horseshoes off!”

Celestia giggled at Patrick’s remark. Twilight and Spike continued to nervously sit by as Peter still didn’t show up. Crème Fraiche looked at this and walked up to her.

“You seem nervous,” Crème cooed. “You shouldn’t be. You tasted Peter’s food, right?”

“I know, Ms. Fraiche,” Twilight answered, unsure of herself, “but I can’t bear to see what happens if Peter loses.”

“I’m sure he won’t. If he continues producing food like he’s been, he’s sure to earn the restaurant he deserves.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Relax, Twilight,” assured Spike. “I’m sure we’ll see Peter come through those doors any minute now.”

Twilight and Spike stared expectantly, hoping that he would.

____________________________________________________________

Peter layered the pasta, spinach, and potato mixture and the sage-and-garlic butter into a deep, individual-sized, but presentable red baking dish. Peter finished by topping the entire entrée with cubed brie and shredded parmesan. Peter put the dish into the oven along with three small, round dishes that held the bleu cheese and horseradish mixtures.

With the pasta cooking, Peter took the roasted peppers, chopped tomatoes, onion, garlic, and basil that was sautéing inside the pan and carried it to a clean blender. After putting all of its contents inside, Peter pureed everything until it became a thin sauce without a single chunk inside of it. Peter quickly wiped the inside of the pan with the towel and poured a couple more tablespoons of olive oil into the pan and let it heat up atop the stove.

Peter then took a small pot and filled it with sugar, setting it aside for later. He knew he wasn’t going to have enough time to make ice cream for his desert, but he knew that Crème Fraiche kept ice cream in her freezer. He might not be looked favorably by Luna, but at least he’d create the rest and complete his challenge.

Peter took his other pot of potatoes and drained them. With them still inside the pot, Peter took out a masher and made paste out of the spuds with their skins still upon them. Once Peter felt like the skins were broken down enough, he took a bowl that contained cream, milk, butter, and salt and poured it into the potatoes. Peter then put some more minced garlic into the potatoes, stirring them up until they reached the smooth consistency he desired. Peter set his potatoes aside, happy for them to be finished.

Grabbing his pan again, Peter pushed his sliced zucchini, squash, eggplant, tomato, and minced garlic into the pan, which was still hot enough to cause the vegetables to sizzle. Peter placed the pan back onto the burner while he stirred its contents, coating them in oil. Peter left it back alone to let the vegetables cook.

Peter went to his two small portabella mushroom caps that he lightly dressed in oil, grabbed them with tongs and put them on the grill. Peter, knowing that the wet oil would help pace the cooking of the mushrooms, went back to stir up his ratatouille. Even with the oil, the mushrooms did not take long, forcing Peter to flip them back over soon after. With another minute passed, Peter took his mushrooms and put them both on a square plate.

With his vegetables nearly completed in the pan, Peter poured some of his pepper and tomato sauce in, stirring it up and giving it its needed flavor. Peter then placed the pan of finished vegetables onto the counter. He then grabbed his pasta and breadcrumb mixtures from the oven and put them down on the counter. With more time to spare, Peter took his wooden spoon that he used for his ratatouille and scooped slices onto the outside of the depression in the plate, chaining them together as each slice except the ends overlapped.

Peter continued this until the vegetables formed a ring around the plate, placing the front end of the chain underneath the end of it, forming a Penrose stairs of vegetable slices. Peter then went to his mushrooms with his breadcrumbs and gently flipped them just over the tops of the caps allowing a perfectly crispy crust to land on each one. Peter took his potatoes and scooped a dollop onto the plate, it, along with the mushrooms forming a triangle. Peter garnished this dish with a sprig of thyme on top of the potatoes.

Peter grabbed another nozzle-topped bottle and poured some of the remaining sauce inside of it. Starting inside the vegetable ring, he drew the sauce in a light swirling design for presentation. Peter slammed the bottle down on the counter. With his pasta perfectly cooked and the cheese atop of it melted to perfection, Peter was ready for his next three dishes.

____________________________________________________________

Peter came in with the cart, surprising and elating the ponies, as well as Spike and Patrick, inside. With three dishes to be presented, Celestia and Crème Fraiche licked their lips, knowing that they were officially in for a treat. Luna stoically walked back to her position at the table as Peter moved his trays there.

“So, you’ve finally returned,” Celestia spoke. “You have fifteen minutes after this. I hope you still have time for dessert.”

“Frankly,” Peter joked, “I’m more concerned about you leaving room for it.”

Celestia and Crème indeed chuckled, but Luna was still stone-faced, just wanting to judge the dishes.

“Alright then,” Crème asked, “which entrée are you presenting first?”

Peter unveiled his mushroom course, the ponies, even Luna, looking at it with intrigue and wonder.

“And what is this?” asked Celestia, walking up first.

“These are portabella mushroom medallions. The one on your right has a horseradish crust upon it, while the other has a bleu cheese crust. Behind them, there are smashed reds as we like to call them back home with garlic and garnished with thyme.”

Celestia was already chewing her bite, allowing the flavors to roll around her tongue. Upon swallowing her verdict was made.

“The horseradish crust has a nice kick to it,” she answered, “and you cooked your portabellas to perfection. What about the other?”

Celestia took a bite, chewed, and swallowed.

“The combination here is what does it for me. Going from the spicy horseradish to the mellow bleu cheese is a great transition. And the potatoes…”

Another bite was had.

“…are wonderful. They act as a nice palate cleanser for the next bites ahead. This is a great dish.”

“Thank you, Celestia,” Peter spoke.

Luna stepped in front of Celestia’s place. She too took the horseradish mushroom first. Once she was done with this bite, she moved onto the bleu cheese without another word. Finally, she took a bite of the potatoes. Peter was sweating as she saw her swallow for the third and final time.

“I must say,” Luna said, producing a smile, “you shone with this entrée. There’s much going on with this plate, and there’s also much variety that a customer would love. I agree with my sister. This was good.”

“Thank you, Luna,” bid Peter.

Crème was up next, and she took the same journey as the two judges before her, her pleasured grunts being enough of an indicator to tell Peter how he did.

“I feel…” Crème spoke, “like my taste buds went on a journey. This dish really has many different flavors going on inside of it, and it’s not overly difficult. I can’t see why this dish shouldn’t be the star at your restaurant.”

“Thank you, Crème.”

“Now,” spoke Luna. “What do you have next?”

Peter took the next lid off, revealing his ratatouille.

“And what is this?” asked Celestia, stepping back up.

“This is a ratatouille with zucchini, squash, eggplant, and tomato in a roasted-red pepper and tomato sauce.”

“Mmm,” mumbled Celestia before she swallowed her bite. “I love this sauce. It really makes this dish. I also liked how it’s cooked into the vegetables as well as having some on the plate if one wants more. It’s light, and it’s just delicious.”

“Thank you,” Peter said.

Peter couldn’t help but take a glance at Patrick as Luna took her bite. Patrick was ecstatic to see his son become what he was now; cooking for and impressing the two leaders of an entire nation as well as their personal chef. Luna, finished with her bite, spoke to bring Peter’s attention back.

“Such a simple array of vegetables,” she said, “but the sauce is indeed flavorful enough to make the dish. Your presentation is also very pleasing. You did well.”

“Thank you.”

Crème was up again, and she was eager to try another bite of Peter’s food. Upon eating it, she made her opinion known.

“You know,” she giggled, “if I could have a straw, and just drink the sauce, that would make me so happy. This is just delicious. I loved the choices of vegetables as well as how you made them look. This dish makes me very happy. Thank you.”

“Thank you so much, Crème,” Peter said, getting giddy.

“I see you’re excited,” Celestia observed. “Do you really think you can win this?”

“I certainly do, and this next dish might just seal it for me.”

Peter took the lid off the last entrée, the three judges looking at it with confusion, obviously never having seen a dish like that. Patrick, his view blocked by them, couldn’t see what it was.

“I'm genuinely interested,” Celestia said. “What is this, Peter?”

“This is an Italian dish called pizzoccheri.”

Patrick gasped, knowing exactly what it was. Celestia, hearing it, looked back to the computer to see Patrick with his hands cupped over his mouth, tears streaming from his face.

“Patrick?” she asked. “Is something the matter?”

“That dish…” he choked. “Was a specialty from my wife’s side of the family.”

“Your wi– Oh… I see.”

Celestia and Twilight had known before that Peter’s mother had died, and they could certainly feel the emotional weight that this dish would present.

“On my mother’s birthday,” Peter explained, “my grandma from my mother’s side of the family would prepare her famous pizzoccheri for the family. My grandma had intended to give it to my mom before she passed, but my mom died before that, so my grandma made my pop the heir to the recipe before she passed. He continued to make it every day on her birthday… in her memory. I made this in her honor.”

Patrick’s sobs were audible from the screen, but he did his best to quell his tears to see how Peter did.

“How sweet of you,” Celestia said. “Now, what’s in it?”

“The pasta was made with buckwheat flower, grappa liqueur, and a sweet ale. While I wanted to make the dish in my grandmother’s traditional way, but remembering Luna’s words, I played a bit around. There are cubed fingerlings inside there, and though my grandmother used kale as the greens, I used spinach, and in place of the gouda, I used brie. The sauce is a garlic and sage butter that’s layered into the pasta, potatoes, and greens.”

“Is it normally supposed to be served inside the dish which you baked it in?”

“I wanted to. I thought it would look nice and it would help keep the food warm.”

“I see. Let’s see how you did.”

Celestia speared a bite, making sure to get one of everything. Giving it a quick blow, she inserted it into her mouth. As she chewed more and more, tears began to stream down her face. Eventually, she had to swallow, wiping her tears with her eyes.

“This is…” Celestia spoke, her voice choking up, “a perfect dish. Not only does it taste marvelous, I can feel the love that you put into this and the influence your father, mother, and grandmother put into it. I can’t exactly speak for her, but if your mother was indeed here right now, she would be so very proud of you, Peter.”

Peter’s own tears began to flow, and he tried his best to wipe them dry and look professional for his judges, but found it hard.

Celestia stepped back to let Luna try a bite. Her stoic expression was now gone, now filled with intrigue over what kind of dish would make Celestia weep so. She took her own forkful and put it into her mouth. Her eyes immediately widened, and her own tears welled in her eyes, filled with both painful and pleasant memories all at once. She hardly chewed before she swallowed. Finding the right words was hard as the water rolled from her cheeks.

“You know of the tale of Nightmare Moon, correct, Peter?” asked Luna.

“I do.”

“Those thousand years of isolation on the moon were the most miserable of my life. It wasn’t until I was welcomed back into my sister’s arms that I felt true happiness again to be in the company of someone that I love so very much.

“This dish here… brings back those happy feelings. From losing your mother, to being pulled from your home world twice, to reuniting with your dear friend Twilight, only someone such as yourself could have made this dish that can evoke such emotions. This dish is… joy incarnate.”

“Thank you,” whispered Pete, trying to keep from crying again.

Crème was up next. There was a slight twinge of fear on her face, knowing that whatever dish she was about to try would cause a very heavy response inside of her. However, she was here for Peter, and she needed to eat. Putting her fork into the pasta, spinach, and potatoes, she slowly took a bite, nervous over what was to come.

As she had expected, Crème began weeping almost immediately. Looking at her little boy from all those years ago having grown up to make something as delicious as this was something that could have only come once in a lifetime. After swallowing, Crème looked back to Twilight.

“Twilight,” she spoke, “please. Taste this.”

Twilight walked up, grabbing a fourth and fifth fork from the tray and giving one to Spike. Both Twilight and Spike took large bites, eagerly wanting to taste this food. Spike, his body in pure pleasure as he chewed, fell limp to the floor. Twilight, however, began to tear up, looking at Peter with a happy smile and streaming tears.

“Twilight,” asked Crème. “Are you certain that Peter will lose now?”

Twilight could only shake her head. Peter’s feelings were beginning to overtake him.

“I want to be serious for a second,” Crème admitted, “and tell you exactly why this dish is delicious. Your pasta is cooked perfectly and the buckwheat leaves a very interesting texture, as well as a delicious flavor from the grappa and ale. The sage butter perfectly flavors the dish, and the spinach and potatoes add more textures to the dish that really just pop. The brie was an excellent choice. It’s a mild cheese that doesn’t overpower the dish, and it allows its other components to work together.

“Now, Peter, after you left, I had one wish that I hoped would absolutely come true. Even beyond you becoming a chef or running your own restaurant… I hoped with all my heart that you would grow up to become a better chef than I. And after tasting that dish… it warms my soul to know that that wish had come true. Thank you for granting my wish, Peter.”

Peter couldn’t take it anymore. Peter squatted down and supported his hands upon the table, bowing his head down as his tears dripped onto the floor. Patrick, off behind the ponies, was beside himself as he watched Peter break down.

“Peter, come,” cooed Celestia.

Peter stood back up, his eyes red and his cheeks wet from his tears as he walked up to Celestia and gave her neck a tight hug. Celestia returned his hug by giving Peter a kiss on his cheek, the same one he loved so much as a boy. As Peter openly sobbed and cried over Celestia’s shoulder, she gently rubbed the back of his neck with the side of her face.

Both Crème and Twilight walked up to Peter as well. Both standing on their hind legs, they both wrapped their arms around his torso. Peter, feeling them, took his arms off Celestia and wrapped one arm each around Twilight and Crème. Spike, who was still a bit short, hugged Peter at the leg, pressing his cheek into his thigh.

Luna looked upon the sight with a happy smile. While she didn’t know Peter as well as Celestia, Twilight, or Crème did, she could tell through their affection that their friendship and love for each other was genuine. Patrick wanted nothing more to be there for his son, but he could only watch and cry as his son received the ponies’ affections.

“Pop,” Peter whispered as he broke free from the hugs, wanting to be by his father’s side as desperately as he did.

Peter ran up and knelt down in front of his screen. Peter placed his hand over the camera, watching as Patrick put his hand upon his computer screen. While it wasn’t physical affection by many means, it was still enough for Peter to show his gratitude and love while Patrick could express how proud he was of his son.

“Thanks, pop,” he sniffled. “I don’t think I could have had a better dad than you.”

“I love you, Peter,” Patrick sobbed.

“I love you too.”

Peter knelt there with his hand by the screen for what felt like minutes, imagining his father being in the hall with him and giving him a loving hug as well. As the tears began to fade, Peter stood back up to face his pony friends.

“Well, Peter,” Celestia spoke. “You have roughly fifteen minutes left to prepare a dessert. At this point,” she giggled, “the only way you could fail now is if you don’t bring out anything or completely burn it.”

“I won’t let you down, Celestia,” he answered.

“Very good. Your final fifteen minutes begin… now!”

Peter ran down the stairs and grabbed his cart, going out the door to prepare his final dish.

“Sister,” asked Luna, “what dessert do you think Peter could make in just fifteen minutes?”

“If he uses some of the ice cream in the kitchen freezer,” Crème answered, “I could think of a few.”

“Premade ice cream? Wouldn’t that break the rules?”

“…After that pasta dish,” Celestia answered, “I think we could let that one slide.”

Luna gasped, looking back at Peter’s pasta. She then smiled, remembering how good it was, now understanding Celestia’s leniency.

____________________________________________________________

Peter quickly laid his sugar-coated bananas, which were sliced down the middle and then halved, making quarters, into the hot pan. Once they were in, Peter went back to pouring and whisking cream into a pot of melted sugar and melted butter. Neither one would take much longer, and he still had about five minutes before his time was done.

It might not haven been the best dessert he could make considering the time he was given, but at least it would be something and something good.

____________________________________________________________

Peter came back with just two minutes left in his challenge, his beaming face telling Celestia, Luna, and Crème that with his dessert, he was finished. Peter wheeled his cart with his three spoons upon it to the table where the two princesses and their chef met him as he took his dessert off the cart, placed it on the table, and unveiled its contents.

Sitting on a square plate was the banana quarters, their flat, glistening sides facing out, teepeed against a sizable ball of ice cream. Atop and around the desert was a line of caramel sauce that lead to four puffs of whipped cream on the corners of the plate.

“For my dessert,” Peter explained, “I made a simple sundae with vanilla bean ice cream, fresh caramel sauce and a banana with its flat bottoms coated and sugar and fried to create a hard, crunchy coating. The whipped cream and ice cream, admittedly, were taken from the fridge and freezer, respectively.”

“I see,” Luna answered, he voice not sounding angered in the slightest.

“Huh?”

“Peter,” Celestia explained. “Your pizzoccheri was phenomenal, and the fact you were able to bring us a dessert at all after the seven other dishes you brought out, I think we can excuse you for using premade whipped cream and ice cream.”

Peter took a heavy sigh of relief. The biggest bane on his mind was finally lifted, and now, his judges would just have to give him a passing grade and he’d pass. He eagerly watched as Celestia broke a piece of banana, scooped some caramel, whipped cream, ice cream, and then banana. Taking a bite, Celestia rolled the sweet treat on her tongue, letting the ice cream melt. She chewed the banana up with it, swallowing it so she could give her opinion.

“It’s a very simple desert,” Celestia admitted, “but that caramel sauce was very good. And I really loved the crunch the bananas have. It was going to be hard to top that final entrée anyway. Very nice.”

“Thank you,” Peter spoke.

Luna was up, and she went through Celestia’s motions of cutting some banana, and spooning all four components together before taking a bite. It didn’t take her very long to come up with her decision.

“Normally, I would be displeased of you putting this in front of me as a testament to your cooking prowess. However, I was reminded by my sister of your previous dish as well as your time constraints, so I will simply say that this is a simple and tasty dessert.”

“Thank you,” Peter said, feeling a little off put by her mixed review.

Crème was the last up, and would put a cap on Peter’s test. Peter just relaxed as he watched Crème take her bite. Crème also did not take long before she gulped her last bite of the test.

“The caramelized bananas were a very nice idea, and the caramel sauce is indeed delicious. I find a tad… flattering that you use my ice cream for this dish, but this is still a great, simple dessert.”

“Thank you all,” Peter said with a smile.

Twilight levitated the far-from-empty plate over to her and Spike, who licked his lips as the dessert was brought closer. As the judges reconvened to make their final choice and decide Peter’s fate, Peter looked to his father as he gave his son a thumbs up, happy for his success. The judges then stepped back into line.

“Peter,” she spoke. “We have come to a decision.”

Peter looked dead into Celestia’s eyes, awaiting the answer he was waiting for his entire life.

“Judging by the dishes you’ve created for us, we all see no reason as to not grant you your very own restaurant. Congratulations, Peter. You deserve it.”

Peter was far too elated to shout. He merely sunk to his knees and looked up to the pretty blue sky and the sun that streamed through it. Today was a beautiful day, and it was only made more beautiful for his long, grueling fourteen year journey to have finally reached its destination. Even as Twilight, Spike, Celestia, Luna, Crème, and Patrick clapped his son on his victory, all that Peter heard was the silence that rung in his head, still unable to grasp it.

A restaurant. A whole restaurant. And it was now officially his.

Chapter 11: Sweet Memories

Peter, Twilight, Spike, Celestia, and Crème Fraiche all clinked their glasses of water together at the dining table in celebration of Peter’s victory. Laid out in front of them was a large, half-empty bowl of garden salad with an assortment of dressings available for anyone to use, a pitcher of ice water, and a large, wooden pepper mill.

On plates in front of each of them was the mushroom dish that Peter had made for his challenge, crust, potatoes and all, albeit in a smaller lunch portion. Spike immediately began chowing down, cutting new bites for his mouth as soon as he put one in.

“You know,” Peter said to Creme, cutting himself a bite of the bleu cheese-crusted mushroom, “you didn’t have to go through the trouble of cleaning the kitchen and making us lunch.”

“It was my pleasure, Peter,” she answered. “You of all people should remember that magic makes the cleaning and washing much easier. Plus, with Twilight’s help, we managed to make everything spotless in seconds flat.”

“That was eight different dishes worth of pots, pans, and utensils in there. I should have cleaned up in some way.”

“Peter, your challenge was exhausting. You deserve to rest and enjoy yourself now. Your problems are all behind you. Your father is happy for you, you have a restaurant coming your way, now please, enjoy your lunch.”

Peter gently shrugged and placed the bite that he cut into his mouth, savoring the flavors of the bleu cheese.

“So, Celestia,” Twilight asked, “are there any places that you know where Peter can run his restaurant?”

“Well,” Celestia said, “there are several available lots in Canterlot, and Manehattan certainly has its share of fine dining, but there’s even one lot in Ponyville that I know of that I felt Peter would be the most interested in.”

Peter was prepared to take another bite of his lunch when he set his fork down, wanting to hear Celestia correctly.

“In Ponyville?” he asked.

“Of course. Twilight had told me that you made good friends with Applejack before you came back to Canterlot, and Twilight currently lives in Ponyville, and I know how good of friends you two are. Not to mention, there are Twilight’s other four friends in Ponyville whom I know will love you.”

“Well,” Peter said, chewing a bite of his mushroom, “if they’re anything like Applejack, I’d certainly believe it.”

“I’m just not sure how Fluttershy will react to someone like you,” Spike admitted, his plate already empty. “Either she’ll get scared of you and hide, or she’ll get all excited about you kind of like when she first met me.”

“Define excited…”

“She likes to tend to various kinds of animals,” Twilight said, “and there’s a chance that upon meeting something like you for the first time, she’ll be very happy and eager to know about you.”

“I guess that’s not too bad,” Peter said, taking another bite and swallowing. “I certainly don’t want to cause any waves by scaring the living daylights out of her.”

“Just don’t be surprised if that’s the case. But I’m certain she’ll warm up to you eventually.”

“Wait, shit!” Peter exclaimed, putting his silverware down. “What about the others in Equestria? For all extents and purpose, I’m an alien creature in this world, so how is anyone in Ponyville, heck, this country going to become tolerant to my appearance? The whole reason I could never leave the castle in the first place was because the citizens would be frightened of me.”

“I have planned for that, Peter,” explained Celestia. “I have called for a public announcement for earlier this afternoon that will tell them everything about you and your future here. I would like you to join me then.”

“Join you?”

“Yes. Since you are now a permanent resident here and will need to live in one of our cities to own your own restaurant, ponies should know of your existence and become used to you.”

“Would that be possible just from one speech?”

“Well, how quickly did Applejack and her family take to you?”

“That was four ponies; we’re talking about an entire country here.”

“It’s very possible Peter,” Twilight explained. “I have a friend that was ostracized by Ponyville, but when I told everyone about who she really was, they all accepted her as one of their own in a jiffy. If the other cities in Equestria are told about you in the same way, I’m sure they’ll be just as welcoming.”

Peter paused. He still felt that the situation was ridiculous, yet alone its predicted outcome. However, mulling over being treated strangely and continuing to argue wasn’t going to do him or the ponies in the room any good.

“Well,” Peter said with a shrug as he picked up is silverware, “if you truly say so. Speaking of which, when is this speech?”

“In about thirty minutes,” Celestia answered, “so eat up.”

“WHAT?!”

____________________________________________________________

A large crowd of various ponies were gathered outside at the castle courtyard. While most of them consisted of the towns citizens, whose dress consisted of those worn by nobles and aristocrats, many of the ponies surrounding the edges of the crowd included reporters for various news outlets. The speech was minutes from occurring, and the ponies could only imagine, predict, and clamor about what Celestia was going to talk about. Lyra, who also came to listen, was trying her best to see past the wave of ponies in front of her.

“Move it!” shouted Lyra as she hopped up for a better view. “I want to see too!”

From the inside the palace, just feet from the exit to the balcony that over looked the courtyard, Celestia and Peter stood side by side. Peter looked behind him to see Twilight and Spike looking at him reassuringly, the latter even giving a thumbs up.

“And you’re sure you want to make your residence in Ponyville?” asked Celestia. “Canterlot and Manehattan are very nice places to run a restaurant as well.”

“I’m certain,” he answered without hesitation. “Twilight lives there, and I really can’t see my stay here being the same without her.”

“I’m very happy you think this way. Now, are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Peter replied.

Celestia nodded, and with a steady inhale and exhale, she stepped forwards into the sunlight, her visibility to the crowd below causing a shrill collection of cheers and applause. Peter knew that he would come up eventually, and he could only hope that Twilight was right about the ponies’ attitudes toward him.

With the cheering just barely dying down, Peter squirmed slightly, knowing that the cheering was only delaying everything. The sooner he could get on, the better. As Celestia outside waved her hoof, the crowd began to quiet down.

“Thank you all for attending,” she spoke. “As you know, Equestria is home to thousands of creatures of all shapes and sizes. However, we have discovered one very recently that has come to our attention and assistance.”

Celestia turned back to Peter inside, giving him a nod to allow himself outside with her. Peter nervously gulped and mustered the strength to walk outside. Upon the ponies seeing him, Peter heard the gasps of wonder, horror, and confusion all at once from the crowd amidst the flashes from cameras that sparkled over the area.

“No way!” Lyra gasped, smiling wide.

“This is Peter Falwell. He is a creature called a human from a faraway world.”

Upon this statement, the ponies began to clamor even louder. Peter wasn’t sure what she was pulling here, but it seemed that the ponies were certainly more scared of him that Twilight wanted to give off. Lyra, as much as she wanted to tell them that Peter was harmless, kept her mouth shut as to not incriminate herself with her knowledge of him.

“Before all of you fear for the worst, despite the fact that he is an alien creature, I assure you that after meeting him, he is a very kind-hearted and friendly individual. Because of his being taken from his home, he is now left without one, and I have allowed him to make his residence in the town of Ponyville.”

The clamoring now included some positive exclamations from the crowd. Lyra, especially, clopped her hooves together and cheered, happy to know that her new friend would make his hometown her hometown.

“As well,” included Celestia, “upon me learning about him, I have found out that he was an aspiring chef in his world, and after testing his exceptional culinary skills, I am allowing him to open a restaurant in the town of Ponyville.”

Peter was again pleased to hear the positive reception from the crowd. And what interested him even more was the fact that Celestia, despite being short, sweet, and to the point, was fully convincing these ponies of his harmlessness. Perhaps his acclimation into Equestria society would be easier after all.

“Also, I want to make it clear that as of this very moment, Peter is an honorary citizen of Equestria and shall be treated as such. As eager as I’m sure many of you are to see him or meet him, I wish that he be given some space as to have time to get used to his new home. I only wished to make this brief, so this concludes my announcement. Thank you, and have a pleasant rest of the day.”

Celestia and Peter both gave some final waves to the crowd over the banister before retiring inside. Twilight and Spike looked overjoyed, knowing how receptive the crowd outside was being.

“That was…” Peter began, “great! They all really seemed happy for my being here.”

“Of course, Peter,” Celestia answered. “I do not know how your kind on your world treat others that are different than you, but here, you are welcome and free as any one of them.”

Peter knew as much that his kind were less than savory to people different to them, yet alone aliens from different worlds, but he knew that he’d be opening the biggest can of worms by talking about it.

“That’s fantastic,” Peter opted to say instead. “So what now?”

“While ponies are going to give you the space to allow you to get to know your new home, news of your existence must be spread before I can send you off. The other cities, including and especially Ponyville, still need some time to get the news.

“Here’s what I was planning until then. I wanted you and Crème to make that delicious pizzoccheri for dinner tonight. Later tonight, there is a train that should leave Canterlot at ten o’clock. It should arrive in Ponyville early tomorrow morning. That way, you can spend all day getting to know your new town.”

“That sounds good,” said Peter, who suddenly yawned. “If you don’t mind though, I’d like to take a nap before I do all that.”

“Go right ahead,” she said, walking away. “You have had a physically and emotionally exhausting day. You deserve some rest.”

As Celestia turned the corner, Peter drowsily walked to his room, Twilight and Spike following him.

____________________________________________________________

After an exhausting four minute dragging of his feet across the floor, Peter eventually made it to his bedroom. He looked around. His clothes and pajamas from before were still piled up by his bag. His computer and phone were put back on the dresser, leaving him to merely fall onto the bed and get some sleep.

Peter fell onto the bed, lying perpendicularly with it at the front end. Peter was too tired to move, and the covers felt so soft. Twilight, seeing this, trotted back into the room and picked Peter up with her magic. Despite feeling the familiar tingle over his body, Peter let Twilight do her thing. With a second aura enveloping around the covers, they pulled themselves forwards, leaving an open space for Twilight to set him down.

Peter was gently set down before Twilight rolled the covers over him and tucked him in nice and tight. Peter gave a smile to Twilight for her deed, but she hopped upon the bed and walked up to Peter with her hooves on either side of Peter’s body before she laid down upon his stomach.

“Twilight,” groaned Peter, his voice fatigued and the extra weight pushing on him, “what are you doing?”

“Oh Peter,” exclaimed Twilight, nuzzling her cheek into the front of Peter’s neck, “we get to spend the rest of our lives together. I missed you so much when you left, and now you’re here again. I want to spend some more time with you. That’s all I want right now.”

Peter gently scratched Twilight’s neck as Twilight grinned from the pleasure.

“Okay,” he whispered. “You can stay with me.”

Twilight, content with his answered, settled her full body weight on top of Peter and rested the side of her head on the top of his chest. Peter smiled as well, seeing Twilight peacefully sleep on him, placed one hand on the back of her neck and one hand on her upper back, feeling the muscles inside shift and react to his touch.

Peter knew Twilight was right. He missed her very much as well, and the fact that they were together again, just like this, was pure bliss in his mind. Peter could hardly even notice as Spike climbed onto the bed and curled up into ball along the contour of Peter’s right foot. Peter closed his eyes as his he drifted off into a much needed nap.

Crème Fraiche was walking back to her kitchen when she came across Peter’s open door. She peered in wondering how Peter was doing. She smiled upon seeing him asleep, but upon seeing Twilight sleeping atop of him with Spike nestled at the front of the bed, she gave a content smile as she shut the door, leaving the two to their nap.

========================================

Peter was in bed. It was one week since he returned home from Equesrtria. And while he was thankful that his father was happy for his return, he knew that he’d never see Celestia, Crème, or Twilight ever again. He would sometimes roll over and hope to see his best friend Twilight sleeping right beside him, but as usual, there was nothing but an empty space on the bed.

Peter wanted to cry so badly. He wanted with all his heart to see them again. He missed them so much. However, he remembered the one rule that Celestia gave him before he left for home.

“Remember, Peter. You must not tell anyone back on your world that we exist. Not your friends, and certainly not your father.”

Of course, it was hard for Peter to remember those words without remembering the final hugs he would receive from Celestia, Crème, and Twilight before they would see him sent off. Along with the last words from Celestia he would ever hear as he was teleported.

“I love you…”

Peter couldn’t take it. He grabbed his pillow and smothered it over his mouth. He screamed as loud as he could, the pillow muffling his forlorn cries. He would never meet a mentor as good as Crème Fraiche again. He would never have the closest thing that he had to a mother like he did with Celestia ever again. And he would never have a friend as good as Twilight ever again…

========================================

“Peter,” cooed Crème. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”

Peter fluttered his eyes open. He barely made a white shape to his left gently nudging her hooves into Peter’s ribs. Upon the blurry features sharpening, he saw as Crème Fraiche was waking him up, and Twilight and Spike were standing at the other side of the bed.

Peter groggily sat up, feeling his bed-frayed head.

“It is alright,” Crème explained. “You may bathe once more before your train ride home. However, I need your assistance in the kitchen.”

“Right,” Peter grunted, shifting himself to the side of the bed where Twilight was.

Before he could walk back to the door, he knelt down and gave Twilight another hug.

“Peter?” questioned Twilight. “What’s this about?”

“Did I ever tell you how badly I missed you when I came back home?”

“No… but what about–”

“I used to cry myself to sleep every night because you weren’t in the bed beside me anymore.”

“Oh, Peter…”

Twilight eased him further by returning the embrace, wrapping her arms around his torso.

“But now you’re back with us,” she whispered again. “You have me, Spike, Crème, Celestia, and all the friends you could make back in Ponyville.”

“I really thought I’d never see you again.”

“Me neither, but please, Peter, that’s all in the past now. You’re home again. Now go help Crème. I’m sure she wants to spend some time with you too.”

“Yeah…” Peter spoke, standing back up. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Come Peter,” quietly called Crème. “I am quite eager to know your secrets.”

“Coming.”

Peter walked out of the room, following Crème to the kitchen. Before he couldn’t see them any longer, Peter gave one last look to Twilight before he had to continue walking.

____________________________________________________________

“Alright,” Peter explained as Crème Fraiche kneaded the wheat-mottled pasta dough, “just put that in the fridge for a half hour and then we can cook.”

“Goodness,” exclaimed Crème. “That’s a lot of time!”

“Well, we can pop open that Riesling that I saw in the fridge and talk about stuff.”

“Stuff? What kind of stuff?”

“I don’t know. Let’s just see how this all goes.”

Crème gave Peter a nod as she picked up her dough, placed it in a small pan, and walked to the fridge with it. Upon opening the door, she put the dough inside and grabbed an unopened green, glass bottle from the fridge. As she walked back to Peter with the wine, she grabbed two wine glasses from the glass rack next to the sink, handing one to Peter and taking the other one for herself.

Crème also used her magic to pull the cork out of the bottle with a pop. Crème rotated and tilted the bottle to Peter’s glass, pouring the sweet alcohol into it halfway.

“Thank you,” Peter said.

Crème began to fill her own glass, stopping halfway and setting the bottle down on the counter.

“Now, Peter,” asked Crème, “what was it that you wanted to talk about?”

“I know this may seem like a really stupid question to ask,” Peter admitted, “but you missed me when I left back for Earth, right?”

“Why of course! You were almost like a son that I never had.”

“That’s good…”

Any sense of fun and enjoyment was taken out of Peter’s voice as he asked his next question after a sip of wine.

“My leaving wasn’t too hard on you and Celestia, was it?”

“Well, Celestia has always sported a brave face, even in the most trying of times. She certainly missed you very much, even if her voice or motions never showed it. I, on the other hand, was beside myself. While I know that Celestia loves me like she does anypony, you were truly the only one that I felt really loved me the way that she did.”

“I… I see.”

“A few weeks after you left, I even strongly considered taking my leave so I could explore the world and possibly follow my dream of running my own restaurant. However, on the night before I would give my notice, I looked into this kitchen for what I thought would be the final time. I could only remember it with you inside of it.

“It was then that I knew that I couldn’t possibly leave this place. There were far too many memories of us that I didn’t want to leave behind, and I knew that leaving here would also mean leaving behind everything I knew about you. And throughout the years, Celestia still loved me… And I still loved her… I knew I couldn’t find such love anywhere else but where I already was.”

“And I hope you were still happy then?”

“Yes, I was still happy, but it wasn’t the same as back then… it wasn’t the same as right now…”

Crème took a sip of her own glass.

“And what about you?” asked Crème. “Did you miss us?”

“Like crazy,” he said, taking a much more generous sip. “I told Twilight a little earlier that I spent many nights after returning crying because she wasn’t there beside me anymore. And Celestia was like a mother to me… there was no way anyone could replace her, not even my pop. And you…”

Crème turned to Peter waiting to give his answer.

“You were always there.”

“Huh?” she asked in surprise.

“You were my muse throughout it all. You might have shown me some of the basics of cooking, but when I was learning more intermediate and difficult things from my pop, when I was taking school at the Cordon Bleu Culinary Institute, to when I was driving up to Manhattan, I always had you on my mind.”

“Really?”

“You truly were an inspiration to me, Crème. If I hadn’t met someone quite as knowledgeable or gifted as you are with cooking, I can’t say that I’d be as blessed as I am now.”

“But… what about your father?”

“Yeah, but if it hadn’t been for your own love of cooking, reassuring words, and your ability to express yourself through it, I don’t think I would really even want to own my own restaurant, yet alone cook in one.”

“Was I… really that inspiring?”

Peter could see that tears were welling in Crème Fraiche’s eyes that she tried to hide. Peter snatched Crème’s wine from her magic aura and put it on the counter along with his glass. Crème, noticing this, then watched as Peter knelt down and wrapped his arms around her neck.

“Yes, you were,” he answered. “Every day, I held true to your words of being just as good of a cook as you are, and I worked every day to achieve that. Even if I thought then that I would never see you again to see if I had, I knew that if I continued working, on and on, then one day…”

Peter’s eyes began to tear up as well.

“…maybe one day, I could be as good a chef as you.”

“Oh, Peter,” sobbed Crème Fraiche, “you are!”

Crème hugged Peter’s chest with her hooves, her face pressed into it as she sobbed. Peter consoled her, rubbing her back, admiring how silky her coat was even after all these years. Peter rested his cheek in between Crème’s horn and her ear.

“And now that I’m here,” Peter said, “you don’t have to remember anymore, because I’ll be right here if you need me.”

“I know…” she sniffled, pulling away from him. “You couldn’t imagine how happy I was to see you again when you came through those doors.”

“I could imagine it a little,” Peter said, standing back up. “But thank you for that, I really needed to get that off my chest.”

“I’m glad to have helped.”

“Speaking of help, you should get the other ingredients for the meal soon.”

“Right. And you said I could use kale or spinach?”

“Yeah, and make sure to use a mild cheese like gouda or brie, or whatever you want.”

“I’ll go get them right away.”

Crème turned on her hooves and walked into the pantry for her other ingredients. Peter, truly happy to be working with his muse again, smiled as he took another sip of wine from his glass.

____________________________________________________________

Night had fallen over Equestria, and Celestia, Crème Fraiche, and Luna, who was now up, were seeing Peter, Twilight, and Spike off at the castle exit. Peter had his bag over his shoulder while Twilight had her saddlebags with her. While Twilight and Spike had finished with her goodbyes with the princesses and Crème Fraiche, it was now time for Peter to give his own goodbyes. Peter walked up to Luna.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Peter,” Luna said, putting her hoof up for a shake. “I wish you luck in your future endeavors.”

“Oh, no you don’t!” Peter giggled, instead grabbing Luna by the waist and hugging her tight.

Luna’s eyes shot open and her teeth grit from the initial shock, but knowing that Peter meant no harm and was fully accepting of her despite her past and her word choices during the test, she gave him a warm smile. Peter set her down, allowing Luna to preen her ruffled wings. Peter then gave a hug to Celestia.

“It’s been very pleasant to see you again,” Celestia spoke. “I hope our next meeting isn’t so… distressing.”

“Perhaps it won’t be if I invite you to my restaurant.”

“I look forward to it. Farewell, Peter.”

With some final pats on Celestia’s back, Peter moved to Crème. The two shared a happy look at one another before Crème stood on her hind legs and leaned onto Peter, constricting his chest with her arms. Peter followed suit by putting his own arms around his muse and mentor.

“It’s so glad to have you back,” Crème whispered into his ear.

“It’s great to be back,” Peter answered.

“Please do contact me when your restaurant opens. I want to be among your first customers.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Peter let go of Crème, still amazed by how great she looked to him after all these years.

“Well,” Celestia spoke, “your train leaves in less than twenty minutes. You best be going.”

“Alright, Princess Celestia. Farewell!”

Peter, Twilight, and Spike walked out the door and down the steps into the city, the former and the latter waving goodbye as they made their way to the station. Celestia and Luna happily watched them go as Crème sniffled, her eyes watering once more with a thankful smile on her lips.

____________________________________________________________

The train was waiting and fuming at the platform. Few ponies were scrambling in, being as late in the night as it was. However, as Twilight, Spike, and Peter came closer to the station, the dreary atmosphere became a bit brighter. Peter waved back to the numerous ponies who noticed him and waved at him and responded to every, “Hello,” with a, “Hey.”

The ponies at the station gasped as Peter walked up to the platform to board the train.

“Hello there,” said a grey coated stallion conductor with a spotlight cutie mark shining a flashlight on Peter. “I know you’re new here and all, but I can’t let you ride the train without–”

“It’s alright,” spoke Twilight’s voice, which brought the light down on her, “he’s with me.”

“Oh! Why, of course Ms. Sparkle. Go right on ahead, you three!”

“Thank you, sir.”

Twilight, Spike, and Peter boarded the train through the rear car. However, Peter stopped at the edge of the entryway.

“What’s you’re name?” asked Peter.

“My name?” asked the conductor. “My name is, uh… Night Watch. Why do you ask?”

“When I open my restaurant in Ponyville, swing on by. I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Really? You’d do that for me?”

“Why not?” asked Peter, turning to face him. “You are giving me a free train ride, after all.”

Peter’s honest smirk got a positive reaction from the stallion.

“Thank you! That’s quite generous of you!”

Peter, without another word entered the train, taking a seat near the back. Peter and Twilight tossed their selective bags onto the seats next to them and sat in comfortable enough positions to sleep in. Within a few minutes, the conductor checked his watch, realizing it was time to head on out.

“All aboard!” he shouted.

He then mounted into one of the cars, looking out for any last-moment passengers. Seeing that there were none, he closed the door and the train began to lurch forwards. The initial momentum was jerky, but as the train eventually gathered speed, the movements were far more gradual and smooth.

Peter slumped down as Twilight laid her body on the seat, Spike nestled with his back to her stomach like a cat would. Peter smiled, knowing that by tomorrow morning his life would begin anew. All that separated him from it now was the morning sun. Peter slowly shut his eyes, wanting the world of sleep to transport him to the next day as soon as possible.

Chapter 12: Fresh Start

Peter sat in the passenger’s seat of his dad’s van. It would be his first day of school since returning from Equestria, and with Peter’s head resting on his hand with his arm supported on the window, Peter was far from thrilled. He didn’t have any clue how these other children would treat him or if they’d even like him. All he could do was do all that he knew in Equestria and make friends that way.

“Are you ready, son?” asked Patrick, looking to him.

“Yeah,” Peter answered unenthusiastically.

The sign for Bartlett Jr. High came up and the building came even closer. Even though he skipped fifth grade due to his absence from Earth, Peter had shown himself to be a scholarly deviant, passing math and English courses that weren’t expected of a fifth grader (with Twilight as his mystery tutor). With his aptitude duly noted, Peter was allowed to transfer a grade higher than where he left off.

Surely, he might be noted for his academic success, but he wasn’t sure how the kids would take to someone of that intelligence. With Patrick’s car stopping, Peter knew that the dreaded time to exit the car was now upon him.

“Have a good day!” called Patrick as Peter slumped out of the car.

Peter began to walk to the entrance in a slouch, reluctant about starting school.

“Forget something?” shouted Patrick again.

Peter turned around to see his dad holding a plastic grocery bag that contained his lunch. Peter rolled his eyes at his clumsiness and walked back to retrieve it. As Peter grabbed it, he suddenly brought a smile to his face. If there was one thing that he was glad to have back on his home world, it was his dad’s home-cooked lunches.

“There’s a smile!” grunted Patrick with a smile of his own. “Go get ‘em, son!”

“Sure thing, pop!” Peter called back, running to the front door.

Patrick smiled, happy to see his son readjusting to normal life once again.

____________________________________________________________

Peter was surprised at the school day so far. He was getting along very nicely with his teachers, and none of the kids saw him as a bother… yet. Now, it was lunch, arguably the best part of the day aside from gym. Sitting alone at the most sparsely seated table in the cafeteria, Peter began untying the knot that held his bag together, Peter took out its contents, gaining the attentions of a few students.

Inside a shallow Tupperware container was a carved turkey sandwich with gruyere cheese, a spicy Dijon mustard and mayonnaise combination, a bag of jalapeño potato chips, a Claussen pickle spear, and fresh, cubed pineapple in another plastic container.

Peter was even happy to spy a plastic fork already placed inside. Grasping his silverware, he opened the pineapple up and speared two pieces before he brought them to his mouth, the morsels still oozing with juice when he bit into them.

“Jeez,” spoke a voice. “That’s a hell of a lunch.”

A kid came up and sat across from him at the table. The kid had short, blonde hair and he wore a red t-shirt with blue jeans. With one hand, he set his backpack down on the seat beside him, and with the other, he set the tray of food from the cafeteria onto the empty space in front of him.

The tray contained a chicken sandwich wrapped in decorated foil, the sandwiches contents drawn in a design on top of the foil, a small basket of fries, and a similar basket filled with canned diced peaches.

Peter was a bit excited. A new friend was potentially in reach, and all he had to do was play his cards right.

“Not a bad lunch yourself,” Peter said.

“Pfft! As if!” he exclaimed. “Compared to my lunch, yours looks like a steak dinner or something. But I guess it helps that your dad owns that restaurant downtown.”

“You know about the restaurant?”

“Who doesn’t know about the restaurant? After you went missing, your dad was up all over the news trying to find you.”

“Oh…” Peter mumbled, knowing that he was in murky waters.

“So what happened to you? Aliens? Kidnappers?”

“I’d rather not talk about it…”

Peter looked downtrodden, wanting to avoid where he really was as much as possible. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be prying more. However, a pat on the back ensured Peter that everything was fine.

“Don’t sweat it, man,” the boy said. “I can’t imagine being away from my daddy from that long. That kind of stuff will mess with a kid’s head something fierce.”

“Right. Hey, you know what’s good on a chicken sandwich?”

“Huh?”

“If you take some nacho cheese from that machine, put some on there and mix some ketchup in, it’s actually really good.”

The boy looked at Peter quizzically.

“No fooling?” he asked. “Well, hey, not that I’m going to doubt you or nothing, but I don’t got the fifty cents for that.”

“Oh, here!”

Peter fished into a zippered pouch on one of his backpack straps. From it, he pulled out two shiny quarters, which he held out to the boy in pinched fingers.

“Well, aren’t you the bomb?”

“I try,” Peter said with a smug smile.

“Cool, then,” he exclaimed, holding a hand out. “I’m Jake.”

“Peter,” he responded, shaking Jake’s hand.

“I’ll be right back. Thanks for the change!”

Peter watched as Jake went back in line for his cheese and condiment. Peter thrust his elbow backwards, happy to have made a friend on the first day.

========================================

Peter’s eyes fluttered open to the bright sun shining through the windows. He also felt as a hoof was poking him on the shoulder to get him to wake.

“Peter, wake up!” called Twilight. “We’ll be arriving in Ponyville any minute!”

Peter could make this out beyond his hazy, early-morning hearing and he shot out of his seat, grabbing his laptop bag. That’s when he remembered. He forgot to call his dad. He knew he wouldn’t have enough time for a conversation, but he still had to let his dad acknowledge his safety.

Pulling out his phone, Peter went to message his father and typed in the following text:

Kind of busy getting into ponyville now talk to you when convenient.

It was rushed and had little punctuation, but he needed to let his father know somehow. Once he hit the send button, he was feeling far less flustered. With his belongings all accounted for and Twilight and Spike ready with their things, all they needed to do now was get off once they reached the station. Peter looked out the window to see the quaint little town of Ponyville again. It was certainly an idyllic little town from the distance and would no doubt be a great place to introduce his brand of cooking to Equestria.

“Next stop,” called a conductor through the intercom, “Ponyville.”

“So,” asked Peter. “What should we do first? I still have all of my stuff at Applejack’s and… shit.”

“What’s wrong?” asked Twilight.

“You don’t think since the news was presented across Equestria, she told anyone else about my real origins?”

“What, you mean with you coming here as a boy?”

“Yeah. If that got out, that might raise some suspicions not just towards me, but to you and Celestia as well.”

“Relax, Peter. If there’s one pony I can trust above anyone, it’s Applejack. Plus, if she knew about your tale and told somepony, she and her family would come under fire about it too, and I don’t think she would risk that for the world. I’m also sure she put the fear of Celestia into those three fillies to make sure not to say anything, so your secret should be safe.”

“…Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Tell you what. I’ll lead you to my house, and I’ll get my friends to come and take a look at you, get to know you, and then we’ll all help move all of your belongings there.”

“How are we going to do that? Will my truck and trailer being at Applejack's raise any questions?”

“Why should it? We can tell everypony the truth here. All we need to say is that you ended up here in Ponyville, and when we went to Canterlot, we kept you hidden so you wouldn’t cause a calamity before people could see you fairly.”

“Hmm. Not bad, Twilight.”

“I do my best.”

The train began to ride through the town, passing the buildings that were set on both sides of the tracks. With this, the train began to slow down as it approached the station. Once it stopped, Peter stepped out the second the doors opened.

“Wow, there he is!” murmured a pony from the distance.

“It’s really him!” spoke a yellow earth mare with a puffy orange mane and tail and a trio of carrots for a cutie mark just outside the station.

“He’s actually here!” said a blue earth stallion with a short, spiky blue mane and tail with two duo-eighth notes for a cutie mark.

“Oh my!” exclaimed a light blue unicorn mare with a blue-and-grey mane and tail with an hourglass cutie mark.

Peter scanned the area. They certainly took to him with reverence, but off in the distance, he saw three mares near a flower stand who looked more shocked and surprised by his appearance than the rest.

They were all earth ponies but each with different coats manes and tails. One was a cream-colored with a cropped mane-and-tail that was a scarlet-red and a dark pink. Her cutie mark was that of a rose with two leaves on its stem. The second was a raspberry color with a brushed, golden mane and tail with three lilies for a cutie mark, as well as a lily snugged in between her head and her right ear. The last one was coated hot-pink with a puffy lime-green mane and tail. Her cutie mark was a pair of daisies.

Peter knew that if first impressions were to be made, now would be the best time. They certainly had a fear of him that he didn’t want them to have. He began making their way towards them, much to Twilight’s surprise.

“Um, Peter?” she asked him, trotting close behind him. “Where are you going?”

Peter hopped off the platform and came to the three mares, who cowered even lower behind the counter with each step they took. As Peter came closer however, he slowed his pace down to slow, patient, hoping to ease them. Upon coming to the counter, Peter leaned his body over it, wanting to see the mares who were shuddering. Nearby ponies just rolled their eyes at their usual cowardice.

“Hey there,” he said in the calmest voice possible. “Looks like we’re going to be neighbors now.”

“Girls,” Twilight answered, “it’s okay. He’s a nice guy. Don’t be afraid of him like you were afraid of Zecora.”

The three of them stopped shaking and looked at each other. They certainly made fools of themselves over their prejudice of her. They stood behind the counter cautiously, still waiting for Peter to prove his innocence.

“I’m not sure if you remember me from the news,” Peter said, slowly giving his hand out to either of them, “but my name is Peter Falwell. Let’s try and get along, shall we?”

The mares in their apprehension, found Peter’s outstretched hand a foreign gesture.

“He just wants to shake your hooves,” Twilight whispered to them. “Please, don’t be rude.”

The cream-colored one with the red mane was the first to put her hoof out to him. Peter, much like he did for Lyra, gently clasped her hoof with his hand and continued to shake.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“I’m…” she muttered. “Rose. I’m Rose.”

“Rose. I really like that name.”

At this moment, Rose’s unsure frown became a warm smile, enamored by his kind words. The other two watched with shock as their friend was taking well to him. Peter let go of Rose’s hoof and moved his hand to the raspberry colored one. As if compelled to do so, she allowed Peter to shake her hoof too.

“I’m Lily Valley,” she greeted, giggling at the feel of his soft, hairless fingers.

“Also a nice name.”

Lily Valley blushed at the compliment as he moved on to the final mare, who, with much more enthusiasm, let Peter shake her hoof.

“Daisy,” she spoke. “It’s, uh… really nice to meet you Peter.”

“The pleasure’s mine,” he responded, pulling his hand back. “Well, I’m back off to Twilight’s place. I hope to see you soon.”

“Bye, Peter!” the three mares called out with waves at different times as their new friend walked away.

Peter waited until he turned the corner before he let out a hearty exhale.

“Boy!” he exclaimed. “I never had to make such a corny introduction in all my life.”

“That wasn’t corny!” refuted Twilight. “I thought the way you handled that was very nice.”

“Well, it was your words that brought them from behind the counter. By the way, who is this Zecora?”

“She’s a friend of mine. I’ll have you meet her one of these days.”

Peter and Twilight with Spike on her back continued to make their way through the streets of Ponyville, the former waving and saying, “Hi,” to the ponies that recognized him and bid him welcome to their town.

____________________________________________________________

Peter walked inside the treehouse where Twilight lived. While he was just astounded that her home was a tree from the outside of it, as his agape, smiling mouth and wide eyes indicated, his demeanor intensified upon seeing the interior. The first floor was a very spacious, round room with hollowed in shelves lined with books.

Upon following Twilight up the stairs, they came to the first level, was a round study that featured more shelves of books, an ergonomic desk for writing on, some windows for sunlight, a fireplace in the back, and a balcony for when it was nice outside to sit and do whatever.

“This is friggin’ cool!” Peter admitted. “How can this tree even be stable with it being all hollowed out?”

“It keeps its composure through and anti-aging spell that keeps it from weathering, wilting, or rotting.”

“Huh. Neat.”

Going up one last flight of stairs that went up and above the walls of the study, he saw what appeared to be the main housing quarters that formed a ring around the study. Directly in front of him, there was the bedroom, which featured a carved, wooden-framed bed with blue, starry covers draped over it on the right and another bookshelf on the left. To the right, there was a door, which he guessed was the bathroom, but he’d check on that later.

To the right of the supposed bathroom door, there was a closet, which Peter sighed in appreciation, happy to find a place for some of his clothes. Behind him in the other quarter of the third level was what appeared to be the kitchen with featured a large, manual iron stove and oven, a table that seemed to serve as a counter, a sink, cabinets for cookware, silverware, and plates, and another fireplace with a black kettle inside of it. To the left of all of that was an magic-powered icebox/fridge and a table with two chairs at both ends.

“There we go,” Peter growled hungrily upon seeing the kitchen and prowling there.

He was also glad to see that there was still plenty of room with which he could place some of his stuff from his trailer.

“I hope this is okay for you,” asked Twilight.

“Twilight,” Peter squealed, as if trying to explain himself to a stubborn five-year old, “this is perfect! I mean, there’s treehouses, and then there are tree houses! This is going to be so cool!”

Peter turned back to the bedroom to see Twilight laying her bags down on the floor. The thought then occurred to him.

“Twilight?” he asked. “Where am I going to sleep?”

“Huh?” she questioned, almost stupefied by the question. “You’ll be sleeping with me in my bed, silly!”

“You mean… together?”

“Well how else can we sleep in the same bed? Why? We used to sleep together as foals. I slept with you yesterday.”

“Yeah, but…”

Peter couldn’t find a proper excuse, and he really did enjoy his nap with Twilight the day before.

“Okay,” he answered. “That’s fine.”

“Great. You can put any of your clothes in the closet. There’s a lot of hangers and space for your things as well as some drawers on the left side if you need some.”

“Really?” that actually sounds great.

“Now, I’m going to go get the girls. You and Spike keep each other company alright?”

“You got it!” answered Spike with a salute.

“I shouldn’t be too long.”

With that, Twilight descended the stairs to her door to gather her friends.

“So,” Spike asked, “whatcha’ want to do?”

“Um…” Peter tried to say without disappointing Spike as he walked to the bed, “I was going to Skype my pop.”

“Oh,” Spike said, a bit disappointed, “I was going to suggest playing a card game or something, but alright.”

“Maybe afterwards,” he answered, slipping his laptop out and tossing the bag to the floor. “I doubt talking to dad will take too long, and Twilight needs to bring her friends over… wherever they are. “

Peter sat on Twilight’s bed and flipped the laptop open, turning it on.

“Come on,” Peter beckoned with a patting of the space beside him. “Come talk to him with me.”

Spike jogged over to the spot on the bed and jumped up beside him as Peter started Skype up. Finding his dad, he clicked the icon to call him. With a couple sets of ringing, Patrick finally answered.

“Hey, there you are,” Patrick said. “I was getting worried.”

“Did you get my text?” asked Peter.

“Yeah, but I still wanted to talk to you before I left for work. Where are you by the way?”

“I’m at Twilight’s house in Ponyville. I’m moving in with her.”

“Ponyville? Equestria, Canterlot, Ponyville… these names just keep getting sillier and sillier.”

“Hey, Mr. Falwell!” Spike called out, his hand waving in front of Peter’s face.

“Is that Spike?” he asked.

“Yeah,” answered Peter, tilting the screen and moving the camera towards the baby dragon. “I don’t think you’ve been introduced yet.”

“No. I just saw him a couple of times with Twilight during the test yesterday. Hey, Spike. I’m Peter’s dad, but please call me Patrick.”

“Hey, Patrick. I’m Spike, Twilight’s assistant.”

“Really? What kind of stuff do you assist her with?”

“Lots! Writing her checklists, sending her letters, housework, getting her supplies…”

“You sound pretty busy.”

“It can get that way sometimes.”

“Are you going to help Peter move in.”

“Well, since I guess he’s our new housemate, I suppose I will.”

“Good for you. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it, won’t you Peter?”

“Very much so,” Peter answered. “I mean, most of my luggage that I’ll need to pack is my clothes, my toiletries, and all my spices, oils, and other cooking stuff. The rest is for the restaurant, so moving in shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“Right. Do you have others helping you?”

“There’s a friend that I met when I first came here that gave me a place to stay before Twilight took me to Canterlot. Her name is Applejack, and she and a bunch of Twilight’s other friends are coming over to meet me in a bit, and once I’m done with you, me and Spike are going to play some games and stuff while we wait.”

“Sounds like fun. It’s a bit later than usual, but I’ve gotta’ go and take a shower and get ready for work. Tell the new friends that you meet that I said, ‘Hi!’”

“I’ll be sure not to forget. Alright, bye pop.”

“Buh-bye!”

With the image gone and replaced by Patrick’s contact page, Peter closed out of Skype and put his computer away.

“So,” Peter said, looking at Spike. “Got a deck of cards?”

____________________________________________________________

Twilight walked up to her house with Applejack and four other mares beside her. One mare was a cyan pegasus with a messily cut mane and tail streaked with six colors of the rainbow, as well as having a cutie mark of a cloud shooting a red-yellow-and- blue lightning bolt. The next mare was a white unicorn with a purple mane and tail that all flowed together in one large curl. Her cutie mark was three ice-blue gems.

The third unknown mare was another pegasus, but she was a creamy-yellow in color and she had a long, flowing pink mane and tail. Her cutie mark was a trio of blue butterflies with pink wings. The last of them was a pink earth pony with a poofy, curly pink mane and tail. Her cutie mark consisted of three balloons, the left and right ones being blue while the middle one was yellow. Unlike the other five, who were walking, she bounced up into the air with all four hooves as if they were made of springs.

“Oh, I can’t believe he’s actually getting to stay in Ponyville!” exclaimed the white unicorn. “I feel so privileged!”

“I sure hope he likes cake!” squealed the pink pony.

“Like Celestia said,” Twilight answered, “he’s a chef where he comes from, so yes, I’m pretty sure he likes cake.”

“Oh boy! We already have so much in common! I wonder what else he likes. For all I know, he could be my twin!”

“I highly doubt that,” Applejack mentioned. “Just wait until you see this guy.”

“Pfft,” huffed the blue pegasus. “He can’t be all that special. Just wait until he gets a load of me!”

“Yeah,” Twilight groaned, unsure of herself, “we’ll need to talk about that.”

“And you’re sure he’s not dangerous?” asked the yellow pegasus.

“I’m certain of it,” Twilight assured her as they reached the front door. “I’ll explain everything to you when you come inside.”

Twilight opened the door with her magic, bringing her other friends inside. From upstairs, Peter and Spike heard the clamoring of the girls, all wondering what they were going to expect upon meeting him.

“Peter!” called Twilight. “We’re home! We’re coming up to the study! Meet us down there!”

“Got it!” Peter called.

Peter put his fanned hand of cards in a stack next to his seat across from Spike, who had a fanned set of cards of his own. As Peter went down the stairs, Spike, looking in both directions, picked up Peter’s hand and began to memorize its contents.

Peter came down to the study just as Twilight’s head came through the stairway. Following her in order was Applejack, the cyan pegasus, the pink earth pony, the white unicorn, and the yellow pegasus. Despite her previous words, the blue pegasus stared at Peter with an agape mouth, as did all the others minus Twilight and Applejack. However, the first to break the silence that followed was the yellow pegasus.

“Oh, wow!” she exclaimed with a bright, happy smile. “Just look at you! You’re so big!”

The eager pony began to fondle Peter’s bare arms, all to the sheer amusement of Peter.

“And you… have no fur!” she examined. “That must be why you have clothes! And those claws, they’re so stubby and… soft!”

The pegasus lovingly rubbed the side of her face against the back of Peter’s motionless hand. Peter then rotated it to scratch under her chin, but as soon as his hand moved, her pleasant and joyful demeanor was replaced by fear as she let out a loud squeak and quickly flew behind her friends. Peter, realizing his actions immediately, felt regret.

“Oh, shi…oot,” he corrected. “I’m sorry about that. I was just trying to pet you is all. It’s okay,” he cooed, kneeling down with his arm outstretched towards her. “I won’t hurt you. Promise.”

Whether it be his gentle voice or her fervent curiosity, the timid pegasus broke through her friends and walked up to him. She stared at his hand just inches away from her face. Peter, hoping she’d accept him again, was happy to see as Fluttershy dipped her head under his arm an lifted it up to place his hand right at the top of her mane.

Peter, completely blown away by the soft, silky texture of the mane, gave a few giddy chuckles before he couldn’t take it anymore. Being as gentle but as quick as possible, he took both arms and pulled her towards him by her neck, giving her a hug. The yellow pegasus, while surprised by the act, understood what he was doing and put her own arms around his torso while snuggling her head into his neck.

The others watched with amazement as their normally timid friend took to the alien stranger as warmly as she would a baby kitten.

“By the way,” Peter said, allowing Fluttershy to back away for a proper introduction, “my name is Peter. What’s yours?”

“Hi, Peter,” she sighed in a sweet voice. “I’m Fluttershy. I… I look forward to your time here in Ponyville.”

“Peter,” Twilight said, stepping in front of her friends to introduce them. “These are the friends I’ve made in Ponyville since we’ve last seen each other.”

“Wait!” shouted the rainbow-maned pegasus, encroaching into Twilight’s space. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! What do you mean by, ‘last saw each other?’”

“You know him?” asked the white unicorn in complete shock.

“What a tweest!” the pink pony exclaimed in an exaggerated Indian accent.

“Huh?” Fluttershy questioned. “What does this mean?”

Twilight looked at each of her four confused friends while Applejack just stood by to watch until called upon. Twilight bowed her head and took a sigh before she looked back to her friends.

“I think I have some explaining to do,” she admitted.

Chapter 13: A Melding Pot

Jake opened the door to his basement, allowing Peter inside of it. The two of them began to descend the stairs together, and upon seeing the contents inside Jake’s basement, Peter was aghast. In one corner of the room, was a very decently sized drumset. On the other corner, there was a Fender Stratocaster with a black body and a white pickguard. Next to it was a Music Man Stingray bass with a sunburst finish, as well as a Martin acoustic guitar. Finally, in the middle was a Yamaha keyboard.

“Whoa,” Peter sighed, heading right to the guitars. “These are really cool! Can you play any of them?”

“Yeah,” Jake said nonchalantly, “drums.”

“Are you any good?”

“Am I any good? My friends don’t call me ‘Bronzo’ for nothing!”

“Bronzo?”

“You know Led Zeppelin?”

“Not really…”

“Man… you are missing out on some great tunes! I’ll have to show you sometime! Anyways, their drummer is John Bonham, and his nickname is Bonzo. My last name is Bronson, so… Bronzo!”

“And I’m guessing this John Bonham is good?”

“The best! Here, I’ll play you something he did!”

Jake walked over behind his drumset, grabbed a pair of drumsticks and sat down on the throne, placing his feet on the bass and hi-hat pedals. He began playing, which Peter would later learn in life was Moby Dick. Peter was mightily impressed by his fast playing, even at his age. The way he combined his snare, toms, and bass pedals was so fast it almost sounded like the uphill chain of a wooden roller coaster. Jake knew he didn’t need to play long to get his point across and stopped, leaving Peter mystified.

“Holy… cow,” he said.

“Yeah,” agreed Jake proudly. “Wow.”

“Uh… how about the guitars? Can you play those?”

“Nah, those are my dad’s. He can teach you if you want. He does it in his off time.”

“Really? What does he normally do?”

“Kindergarten teacher. And, yes, it was as awkward as it sounded.”

“How so?”

“Dude, it felt like you were having to hang out with your dad all day; it was like he dropped you off at school and decided to spend your day with you. I mean, school gives you this… independence from your home and family for a bit, and it just felt kind of weird having to spend my day with him. You know what I’m saying?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Listen, I know spending a year from your dad can make you want to be with him more, but one of these days, you kinda’ have to go your own way, and he can’t always be there.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s just that being away from him was hard for the both of us, and I want to be there for him.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

Another set of footsteps came down the stairs, and arriving inside the basement was a middle-aged man with short, light-brown hair and a goatee. He wore a Pink Floyd t-shirt featuring the Dark Side of the Moon art, and a pair of blue jeans.

“Hey,” he said in a surprisingly tenor voice for his age, “I don’t think we met. I’m Mr. Bronson, Jake’s dad.”

“Yeah,” Peter answered as he shook his hand. “These are your guitars?”

“Yes, sir. Why, were you interested in playing them?”

“Well, I did play for a little bit when I was eight, but I dropped it after a year or so.”

“Ah, I see. You know, if you’re ever interested, I’m always looking for new students to teach, so if you want to pick it up again, you’re more than welcome too set up an appointment.”

“Uh, I’ll talk to my dad about it.”

“Okay. Don’t want to rush you or anything, but… yeah, feel free to take your time.”

“Alright, I will.”

“While I’m here, is there anything I can get you boys?”

“Hey, Peter,” Jake asked, “do you want some lemonade?”

“That,” thought Peter aloud, “sounds pretty good.”

“Great! Two lemonades, dad!”

“Sounds good,” Mr. Bronson responded.

As he went up the stairs, Jake and Peter resumed their conversation.

“Your dad seems nice,” Peter said.

“He’s an even better teacher,” Jake answered. “If I were you, I’d really think about taking some lessons from him.”

“Again, I’ll ask my dad. It’s not like I have any money…”

“I’m sure we can work something out.”

Peter gave a slight, but unsure smile in response. All he knew is that he’d feel and look really good jamming on that Stratocaster. Even if he quit when he was younger, the teachings he learned back in Equestria rung in his ear, making him believe that he could actually go through with it this time.

========================================

Peter sat in the chair at Twilight’s desk as he watched Twilight and Applejack conclude their stories to their friends about Peter and how they came to know him. The four other ponies were stunned by this turn of events. They couldn’t help but give the occasional glance at Peter, still unable to believe that he and Twilight were childhood friends.

“And so,” concluded Twilight, “Peter is now going to be living here in Ponyville with me. Depending on how much help we can provide for him, he can open up his restaurant really soon. So if you could all be so kind as to introduce yourselves to him, I’d really appreciate it.”

The other ponies looked at each other, still a little confused about Twilight’s story despite their trust in their friend or the words from Princess Celestia. However, the first to react was the pink pony as she giddily bounded up to Peter, freaking him out some as he leaned back in his chair with widened eyes.

“Hi!” she chirped, putting her hoof out for Peter to shake. “I’m Pinkie Pie. I’m sure I’m not the first, or the second, or the third…”

As she continued, she sounded a bit more unsure of herself.

“…or the fourth, or the fifth, sixth, seventh, or eighth. Anyways,” she squeaked, back to her chipper attitude, “I’d still like to be one of the many ponies that welcomes you to Ponyville!”

“Settle down, Pinkie,” Applejack said. “Let Peter say ‘hey,’ to the others now.”

“Alrighty!” she said with a closed-eyed smile as she bounced away, leaving the white unicorn to come up next.

“Jesus,” Peter muttered.

“Yes,” agreed Rarity, “she can be a bit of a handful. But enough about that. Rarity’s my name, and it’s a privilege to make your acquaintance.”

“Honestly,” Peter said, shaking her hoof, “the privilege is mine. After meeting Applejack, I really couldn’t have found a nicer place to live than here.”

“Don’t be so quick to attach yourself, darling. There are plenty of other ponies with class and good taste such as myself for you to meet.”

“Good tastes, huh? Then I expect you to be a regular at my restaurant?”

“Speaking of,” the blue pegasus mentioned, flying up next to Rarity, “what kind of food are we talking here? Anything good?”

“Only the finest,” Peter answered. “I don’t think we were introduced yet.”

“Oops! Sorry, there. The name’s Rainbow Dash,” she said, letting Peter grab her hoof for a shake which she promptly pulled away. “Whoa…”

“Whoa what?”

“Those claws are really weird! They aren’t hard or scratchy like Spike’s. In fact, they’re kind of…”

“Soft?”

“Yeah.”

“Here,” Peter said, offering his hand again, “want to give it another try?”

Rainbow Dash, feeling a little embarrassed in front of the proper Rarity, redid her hoofshake, letting out a small, shuddering chuckle as her hoof was grasped by Peter’s fingers.

“That must make cooking things a whole lot easier!” Rainbow Dash said.

“They certainly do. In fact, I wish I could have you all over for dinner so I could make something for you all.”

“I don’t got a problem with that!”

“I too am interested to see your culinary prowess,” Rarity answered. “Celestia wouldn’t sing your high praises for nothing, you know, even if she did raise you for a year. But tell me, Peter, why would you wish for us to come over? I’m certain Twilight wouldn’t mind having us over a housewarming dinner for you.”

“It’s just that I still have all my stuff at Applejack’s and I need to unpack…”

“Well shoot,” Applejack exclaimed walking over, “I can just get Big Mac to help me lug that trailer of yours here.”

“Besides,” Spike said, walking up as well, “you said all you really have is your clothes and a couple of other things. With our help, you’ll be moved in in a jiffy!”

“…Eh, I guess you’re right. Other problem is, I don’t have any money, so getting groceries is going to be difficult.”

“Princess Celestia is letting me purchase anything you need for the time being,” answered Twilight. “She’s going to reimburse me, so don’t feel too worried about it.”

“Well, tell you what,” suggested Applejack, “while I go out to get the trailer, you and Twilight can do your shopping. How’s that sound?”

“That sounds pretty good,” answered Peter, “but I still have my other luggage in my car, and I’m certain I locked it before I left for Canterlot.”

“Well why in the world would you do that? You don’t trust us or somethin’?”

“It’s honestly out of habit. Sorry. I’ll give you my keys before you leave Deal?”

“Alright, buster, you got yourself a deal.”

“Sweet!” Rainbow Dash squealed. “Dinner couldn’t come sooner!”

“But it’s not even lunch yet!” exclaimed Rarity.

“Big deal! I can make a plain-old daffodil sandwich at home!” she said before wrapped her arm around Peter’s ribs and nudging her other hoof into his chest. “But if this guy’s going to cook, it’s going to be something special!”

“Well,” admitted Peter, “you haven’t eaten any of my food yet…”

“I have,” Applejack said, “and don’t worry Rainbow Dash, the grub Peter cooks will make your fur stand on end!”

Peter warmly smiled at Applejack’s positive review.

“In the meantime,” Twilight said, “why don’t we get going. The marketplace will be dying down in a bit.”

“Sounds good,” Peter answered. “Let’s get cracking.”

____________________________________________________________

As Twilight put her straw double-basket-saddle on her Peter explained the remote on his keychain to Applejack.

“That button with the padlock turned away means unlock,” Peter said. “Be sure to hit it twice to unlock all doors.”

“I may be a Southern bumpkin,” Applejack confessed, “but I think I can handle a few buttons.”

“Great. And one last thing…”

“I know, I know! Be very delicate with the stuff in the car.”

“Thanks Applejack. I think Twilight and I are going to go off now. Have any idea when you’ll be back?”

“Maybe an hour or so.”

“Sounds good.”

“Ready, Peter?” asked Twilight, slowly walking from the house.

“Yep!” he called out before jogging off with his head still turned towards Applejack. “Bye, Applejack!”

“See y’all in a bit!” Applejack called off.

Peter was now by Twilight’s side as they headed off towards the market place.

“So, Peter,” wondered Twilight. “Any ideas of what you’ll be serving us?”

“Well,” Peter said, “my salad yesterday was a big hit. How’s about I make one of those for us?”

“That sounds good. I was kind of hoping you’d make that pasta…”

“Trust me, that will be going straight to the menu, but I don’t want to shell out my best dish for just tonight. Just give them a little taste.”

“I see your point. Come on. Let’s get moving.”

Peter and Twilight turned the corner into the town’s street, allowing them to see the expansive marketplace lining both sides.

____________________________________________________________

As Twilight took several bags from the trailer and carried them inside, Peter hoisted out a decent looking black bicycle, putting its wheels on the ground and riding it to the trunk of Twilight’s house. Applejack, who was pulling out some of the boxes Peter instructed her out of the trailer with Big Mac, couldn’t be helped but be fascinated by the contraption.

“What is that thing?” asked Applejack. “I’ve seen Pinkie Pie ride something similar to that, but it sure as hay can’t fly.”

“And you’d be right,” Peter explained. “This is my bicycle. I wanted to use as little gas for my car when I arrived in the city, so I figured a bike could solve all of that. You work it by rotating the pedals with your feet and the wheels will stay upright when you ride, providing a nice, comfortable mode of transportation.”

“What are all those knobs on the handles?”

“Those are the gears. You can shift them to make the pedals easier or to rotate, depending on your preference or whether you’re going up or downhill, and making you able to go faster. I guess it’s a good thing I brought it now. Otherwise, I’d have to walk.”

“Well, how do you think we get around?” asked Applejack with a smug grin.

“Point taken, but at times when I need to be at a certain place as fast as possible, my bike will definitely be very useful. I can go twice the speed of me running at half the effort.”

“Sounds nice. Where y’all gonna’ put it?”

“You think it will be safe on the side of the house?”

“You’re darn tootin’ it would! I couldn’t even see how a pony could use that thing.”

“Again, point taken. By the way, those last two boxes on the left there,” he mentioned, pointing to them after leaving his bike on the kickstand, “those should be the last of them. The rest is for the restaurant.”

“Gotcha!”

“Once again, guys, I want to thank you so much for helping me.”

“Don’t worry about it. Me and Big Mac are happy to help y’all in any way we can!”

“Eeyup!” proudly stated Big Mac, bolstering his sister’s words.

“Just let me take those boxes up. One of those has my knives and I’d like to personally handle them.”

“Sounds fair to me,” answered Applejack. “Now let’s get moving. I’m starved for lunch.”

“Rarity’s treating us to the Lucky Horseshoe Café,” Twilight added, coming outside. “Would you care to join us, Peter? You can certainly get a better handle on Equestrian cuisine here.”

“That sounds good,” Peter said, this time a little winded, “but I really want to take a bath. I’ve been wearing these clothes for the past two days, and I feel disgusting in old clothes.”

“Hmm,” pondered Applejack suspiciously, “sounds an awful lot like something Rarity would say, but to be fair, I wouldn’t know the first thing about wearin’ clothes all the time like you and all the other humans.”

“Fair enough. Once I get this situated, I’ll take a quick scrub and put on some of my clothes and I’ll meet you there.”

“Y’all even know where to go?”

“Mmm, that could be a problem.”

“Tell you what,” Twilight suggested. “I’ll have Rainbow Dash meet you out here and you can follow her there.”

“That sounds great actually. She kind of reminds me of a friend I had back on Earth when I came back, and I’d like to get to know her.”

“Sounds good,” she said, taking another set of bags. “You’ll be lucky to have a friend like Rainbow Dash. She can be a bit hard sometimes, but she’ll do anything you ask her to do if you can get on her good side.”

“I look forward to it,” Peter said with a mild, but agreeing smile.

“Great. Now help me with the rest of your belongings so we can eat.”

“Righto.”

Peter walked over to two boxes, stacked one atop the other, hoisted them up, and waddled into the house with them. Applejack couldn’t help but chuckle, finding his walk a bit cute.

____________________________________________________________

Peter emerged from the bathroom as he brushed his lightly wet hair. On his upper body was a t-shirt with an all-over design of Led Zeppelin’s Physical Graffiti art. Over it was an unbuttoned black vest. He wore a dark pair of jeans with a pair of decent black shoes on his feet. He knew Rainbow Dash would be there at any moment and his hair wasn’t straightened.

Peter looked to the kitchen, happy to see his belongings and other tools placed there. With the other groceries placed on the counter, he couldn’t wait for his four new friends to try his food. As Peter continued brushing, Peter could hear a heavy banging on the door. Peter huffed angrily as he still pulled tangles from his hair.

“Come on, dude!” shouted Rainbow Dash’s voice behind the door. “I’m starving over here!”

“Fuck it,” Peter hissed, tossing the brush into the sink. “Coming!”

As Peter ran down the stairs, he pulled a red band from his vest pocket, tying his unruly hair back. In the study, he saw his black Gibson N-225 and a mahogany Martin acoustic sitting on their stands by his amp. As he approached the door after another flight of stairs, he took a couple more seconds to get it just right.

“Peter!” shouted Rainbow Dash.

“Yeah!” shouted Peter.

Once his hair was ready, he opened the door, to see Rainbow Dash hovering in front of him.

“There you are!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed. “What were you even doing in there?”

“Getting out of my dirty clothes,” Peter retorted, walking to his bicycle on the side of the house. “Trying to make myself not look like complete crap.”

“What are you talking about? You look just fine!”

“I wished I could have straightened my hair a bit more,” he answered, putting his kickstand up.

“I’m sure Rarity will spruce it up for you when we get there. Now come on!”

Peter swung his right leg over to the right pedal, kicking it backwards so the right pedal was set in the three o’clock position. Lifting his left leg off, Peter stepped down on the right pedal, giving him the proper momentum to safely put his other foot on the left pedal. Once Peter began moving, Rainbow Dash began to follow him.

“Whoa, there!” called Rainbow Dash. “The Lucky Horseshoe is this way!”

========================================

The doorbell rang, allowing Peter to run and get it. Now high school aged, Peter was a far more proficient cook, as the smell of a perfectly grilled brisket with a homemade brown-sugar and herb rub that Peter had made was cooling on the cutting board. Patrick was in the kitchen whipping some mashed potatoes in a pot.

Peter answered the door. Jake and his father were there, the latter with a bottle of red wine. Jake, in his high school age, had begun to grow his hair out to his mid neck, and a soul patch had grown just below his lip. Mr. Bronson looked basically the same, although his beard and moustache were shaven.

“Hot damn!” Jake exclaimed. “Something smells good!”

“Jake,” Mr. Bronson quietly scolded, “language.”

“Sorry, dad. But do you smell that brisket?”

“Yes, it certainly smells good, but not enough for you to be swearing like that.”

“I sure hope it is,” Peter answered, taking the wine bottle and shaking his friend’s father’s hand.

“It’s good to see you too, Peter. How’s practice coming?”

“Great, sir. I’m working on this really cool guitar solo for When the Levee Breaks. It’s got a touch of Fly on the Windshield in the melody and a Guerilla Radio-like sound in it; it’s going to sound great!”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“However,” Patrick said, pointing at the large piece of meat with his spud-caked spoon, “I think it’s time to cut the brisket.”

____________________________________________________________

Patrick, Jake, and Mr. Bronson’s plates contained three to five slices of brisket with a large dollop of garlic mashed potatoes and about half a dozen asparagus stems. Peter helped himself to another bowl of the Italian salad that he made as a starter for his guests and as a meal for himself.

“Oh come on,” egged Jake, “you can have a little bit of brisket! Look at how amazing that looks!”

“I know,” Peter said as he applied a little extra dressing to his salad, “but I don’t do that stuff anymore.”

“How are you supposed to be a chef if you can’t eat meat?”

“I can still cook it; that’s all that matters.”

“Jake,” Mr. Bronson cooed, placing his hand on his son’s shoulder, “please. You go ahead and eat your salad, Peter. But I have to agree, this brisket looks astounding.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” asked Patrick, grabbing his full wine glass. “Here’s to just one more year of high-school!”

“To high-school!” Jake and Peter agreed, raising their glasses of cola into the air.

Peter, Jake, Patrick, and Mr. Bronson raised their glasses and clinked them together. After taking a sip and setting their glasses down, Peter, Jake, and Mr. Bronson dug into their brisket. Peter, glad to see them enjoying it, speared some lettuce and onion from his plate and placed it into his mouth.

========================================

Peter took a bite of the wedge of romaine on his plate, making sure to get some tomato and gorgonzola. Peter looked about the table set up in Twilight’s study as she and all of her friends ate their own salads with pleasurable faces as Led Zeppelin’s Fool in the Rain played on a record player on the side of the room next to several boxes filled with vinyl records.

Next to each of everyone’s plates, minus Spike’s, was a glass of Sauvignon Blanc, a bendy straw being placed in the glasses of Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, and Pinkie Pie. Spike was passed out in his chair from a food coma, his plate empty and licked clean.

“My word,” Rarity sighed loudly. “This salad is divine! I can only begin to imagine the experience I’ll have in your restaurant.”

“I agree,” Fluttershy mentioned. “I bet if you fed Angel this salad, he’d fall in love with you.”

“Angel?” asked Peter.

“Oh, my mistake. Angel is my pet bunny. He can be really fussy about what he eats, but I’m certain he’d love this salad.”

“Feeding him this? This food is extremely rich, even for human standards.”

“I know, it’s just that Angel deserves the best…”

Peter couldn’t help but notice that Fluttershy trailed off on this last sentence, as if something bothered her about that.

“So what kind of music is this anyways?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“It’s Led Zeppelin. That friend I was telling you about at lunch, he’s the one that really got me into it. What do you think?”

“I mean… It’s okay, I guess, but don’t they do some harder stuff?”

“Before you leave, remind me to break out Led Zeppelin IV.”

“What’s that?”

“Just one of their albums.”

“Speaking of reminders,” Pinkie Pie butted in. “Remind me to throw you a party soon!”

“A party?”

“Yeah! Every new pony in Ponyville needs a party to welcome them!”

“Aha…” Peter nervously chuckled, “that’s very nice of you, but I kind of want a few days to get to know the town and get my restaurant off the ground before I get into any wild parties.”

“How can your restaurant be successful when it’s not on the ground? I mean, the pegasi could get there no problem, but what about unicorns and earth ponies, or you for that matter? You can’t fly. Or can you? Can humans normally fly?”

Peter, utterly confused by Pinkie’s reasoning, turned to Twilight, who sat next to her.

“Is she for real?” he whispered.

“Yes, she is,” Twilight said in a normal tone. “Don’t dwell on it though, she’s still very nice.”

“What are we whispering about?” asked Pinkie Pie in Peter’s ear.

Completely unaware of Pinkie’s movements or her being next to her, Peter shouted out, leaning back and falling out of his chair. Pinkie Pie, seeing Peter grab his head, instantly looked remorseful.

“Oh my gosh!” Pinkie Pie said, rushing over and helping Peter up on his feet. “I’m so sorry! You’re not hurt too bad, are you?”

“No,” Peter grunted, trying to keep his frustration in check, “but dammit, Pinkie! Why did you do that?”

“I’m sorry! I just wanted to know what you were talking about.”

“It was between me and Twilight, alright? You didn’t need to be involved.”

“I’m sorry, Peter. Can you please forgive me?”

Peter, still looking a bit cross, could see that Pinkie Pie was enforcing her sincerity with every fiber of her being. Peter sighed, knowing keeping his mind on it would cause more problems.

“Sure. I forgive you. Just… don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Gotcha’, friendo!”

Peter then looked to Applejack, who was eating her salad, but saw that the chunks of gorgonzola were pushed off to the side.

“I’m sorry, Applejack,” Peter apologized. “I didn’t know you didn’t like gorgonzola.”

Applejack winced at being found out.

“I just don’t like that cheese,” Applejack admitted. “It tastes a bit funky.”

“There are lots of people who don’t like it. Here, why don’t I take those off your hands… or hooves. Sorry, it’s still going to take a while to get used to speaking in pony again.”

“Huhuhuh,” chuckled Applejack. “Don’t fret about it, sugar. But yes, I’ll gladly give y’all my gorgon’s cheese.”

“Gorgonzola,” corrected Peter. “Twilight?”

Peter gave Twilight her plate and passed it to Applejack with her magic. Peter looked amongst all of his new acquaintances that he’d get to know about Ponyville, happy to know that he probably couldn’t have received a more unique and good group of friends.

____________________________________________________________

The ponies all began to leave later that night, but the last ones to say their good byes were Applejack and Rainbow Dash. As Peter gave his hug to Applejack farewell, Rainbow Dash was up next as Applejack walked out of Twilight’s house, following Rarity, Pinkie Pie, and Fluttershy out.

“So now what do you think of Led Zeppelin?” asked Peter.

“That was what I was talking about!” exclaimed Rainbow Dash. “You wouldn’t mind if I borrowed that one record, would you?”

Peter gave a thought before he ran back upstairs to the study. The table was put away and the dishes were clean, and Peter went straight for the record on the turntable, also picking up the sleeve with the picture of the old man carrying sticks. Peter ran back downstairs and handed the disc to Rainbow Dash, who was very excited to have it.

“Here you go,” he told her. “Just please give that back to me in the same condition I’m giving it to you. That album was a present from my friend on earth and it’s one of my favorites, so I’d like you to be careful.”

“Sure thing!” she answered. “You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours!”

Rainbow Dash fluttered down and gave Peter a final hug, which he earnestly gave back.

“Well,” Rainbow Dash said, looking at an imaginary watch on her arm, “it’s getting late! See ya’!”

Rainbow Dash flew up into the sky and over Ponyville to wherever she lived. Twilight walked up beside Peter as he continued to look up at the night sky.

“Aren’t you glad you decided to stay in Ponyville?” asked Twilight smugly.

“Yeah,” Peter said. “That, and getting all my belongings was much easier too.”

“And your new friends?”

“I like them a lot! Pinkie might be random, but I can see that she means well and likes to do good by others. Rarity sounds like my ideal customer at my future restaurant: classy and has great tastes. Fluttershy looks to be a very sweet and loving mare. And Rainbow Dash… God…”

“What’s that mean?”

“She just reminds me so much of my friend back on Earth. I wonder what would happen if he knew I was here.”

“Knowing Rainbow Dash, she’d call you a nut and probably tease you.”

“Yeah, sounds about right…”

Peter looked back at Twilight, and they suddenly shared a mutual laugh. Once they settled down, Twilight decided to put an agenda forwards.

“So what are you plans tomorrow?” asked Twilight. “Maybe Pinkie Pie can give you a tour of the town so you can get to know it better.”

“Meh, I’m not that kind of person. I like to explore a little, so I think I’m going to ride my bike around town. I mean, it’s not so big that you can get lost in it, right?”

“I suppose not, but I’ve got a busy day of studying for Princess Celestia tomorrow, so I’m trying not to be rude, but I’d like you to be out of the house tomorrow.”

“That’s not a problem. I was planning on being out all day tomorrow anyways.”

“Then we should both get to bed. It’s getting late.”

“Yes,” yawned Peter. “I agree.”

With Twilight heading up the stairs, Peter closed the door behind them, letting their nightly privacies begin.

____________________________________________________________

Twilight lied upon her back in the bed on the side closest to the inside of her house. She was reading a book using her horn as a light. As well, the magic from her horn also flipped her pages. Peter emerged from the bathroom wearing grey sweatpants and a red t-shirt featuring the Houses of the Holy art on it. As Peter walked to the other side, he stepped over a sleeping Spike in a padded basket and stood to the empty side of the bed. Peter continued to stand, still unsure about going through with it.

“Peter? What’s wrong?” asked Twilight, turning away from her book. “You seriously aren’t still apprehensive about sleeping with me, are you?”

“Fine!” Peter huffed, sliding into bed under the covers, still wanting to give Twilight some space.

As Peter turned to his stomach with his left cheek on the pillow, he watched as Twilight turned off the light on her horn, and put her book back into the shelf on the other side of the room. With a yawn, Twilight pulled the covers over her body and turned her body to face Peter, smiling happily upon seeing his face.

“Goodnight, Peter,” she whispered, stroking his face with her hoof.

Peter did everything in his power to keep from shuddering uncomfortably. While he was glad to see her as well, there was no way that Peter could see himself going… that far into their friendship. They were two completely different species. Good friends, very good ones at that, but nothing more.

Twilight put her hooves back on the edge of her covers as she nuzzled her body into the mattress. Peter smiled at the sheer adorableness that she displayed. Even as a fully grown mare, he still tickled his heart just as much as she did as a filly. Peter, wanting to show his appreciation for their reunion as well, reached out and stroked her cheek with his thumb, his other fingers supporting her chin.

Twilight stirred with another pleased smile, leaving Peter to retract his hand and focus on sleep. Watching her tummy under the covers going up and down, paired by her soothing breaths, Peter was lulled into sleep that was a soft and peaceful as the ones he experienced with her as a boy.

Author's Note

I'm so sorry for such late updates. I've been trying to get caught up on my Attack on Titan crossover and I have started a new job that's also been taking much of my time and my sanity away. But better late than never I suppose.

Chapter 14: Windowlicking

Peter opened his eyes, hoping to grace his first sight of the day with Twilight asleep or awake by his side; whichever one were to occur did not matter to him. Instead, he saw an empty, rustled spot where she once laid. Peter got out of the bed, walking around to see that the basket Spike slept in was also empty. Going over to the banister of the top floor, he peered down into the study, seeing Twilight reading a book at her desk. Spike was by her side, ready to get her whatever she needed. Next to her were two more books stacked upon each other.

As Twilight continued to immerse herself in the studies she claimed to have, Peter went to the closet to pick his wardrobe for the day. He decided on a pair of kakhi shorts, a plain sky-blue t-shirt and a white shirt jacket. After grabbing a pair of socks and underwear, he went to the bathroom to wash up.

____________________________________________________________

Peter eventually emerged from the bathroom, hoping to get a word in with Twilight before he left. However, he turned to see her in the kitchen cutting up an apple with a paring knife. Peter saw from the oblong shaped handle that she was using one of his Cutco knives. Peter closed the door behind her, which happened to bring him to her attention.

“Oh,” she greeted. “Good morning, Peter. I was just trying out one of your knives, and I have to say, this cuts really nicely.”

“I know, right?” said Peter. “When I was in high school, I wanted to get a jumpstart on my savings for my restaurant, so I decided to get a job as a representative for those knives. Needless to say, I was so knowledgeable about them through my love of cooking, that I sold a ton of them. My commission was so good that I bought their biggest set with no problems by summer’s end, and that’s the set you’re looking at.”

“Very nice. Were these intended for your restaurant?”

“I was planning on it, but those sets, even if they were cheaper than anything you get in the stores, were still a lot of money! I figured that they would serve me just fine in my home.”

“I gotcha. Oh, speaking of money, there are some rolls of bits for you at my desk.”

“Twilight,” Peter said, grabbing himself an apple, “you don’t need to fork over your money to me.”

“Heeheehee! Who said it’s my money?”

“Then whose is it?”

“Celestia decided to go ahead and lend you a little money while you’re here. She also sent the address of the lot that will become your restaurant.”

“Oh, great. Too bad I still don’t know this town well enough to really know where any of the streets are. Sure, I have my internet, but I highly doubt Google Maps will have satellites to give me directions there.”

“I’ll… just take your word on that. Either way, feel free to go around town today. I’ll just be in here for the entirety of the day.”

Peter took a bite out of his apple, going downstairs to see four long rolls of gold coins strapped together on Twilight’s desk as well as a slip of paper detailing the address of the lot as well as an old-fashioned gold key for him to enter it. Peter grinned, happy to actually be in possession of a key for his restaurant. He then grabbed two rolls of coins and headed back upstairs.

Going back to his closet, he put on a red backpack with a single padded strap that crossed over his right shoulder and down to the left side of his hip. He placed the coins in the front pouch and put the key to his lot into a little pouch on the strap. After putting the address in his pocket, he went to his dresser and grabbed his phone, wallet, keys, and watch and put the first three items in his pockets and put the last thing on his wrist. With that settled, he was ready to go.

“I’m going out now,” Peter said.

“Alright,” Twilight said, sitting in the kitchen as she finished her apple. “Have fun!”

“Bye, Peter!” called Spike as he emerged from the bathroom door.

Peter descended the stairs to the study before going back down to the library on the first level. Walking outside, he could see Ponyville as it was bustling with morning activity. With the sun shining through the blue sky, everything felt serene and wonderful. The trailer was still left from yesterday, still containing his gear for this restaurant.

Peter walked around to his bike, which was still right where he left it, even when unchained and vulnerable. Peter walked it from the outside of the house to give him room to mount, and with a gentle hop, he situated himself on his bike. With a final push of his foot, Peter moved forwards, letting his feet move the pedals the rest of the way along the western edge of the town.

Peter wanted to zip down the grassy streets, but with his unfamiliarity with his new home and the way ponies wandered every which way as opposed to the cars back home, he felt more inclined to move at the slowest speed he could move before his bike would lose balance. He looked around, taking note of the various buildings that he passed on his way.

Quills and Sofas? wondered Peter. How randomly specific.

As Peter continued to tread along, giving friendly waves to the ponies who looked happily surprised to see him, he came across a larger building that looked like a massive gingerbread house with pink windows and a dark-brown roof. Peter remembered hearing someone mentioning that one of his new friends that he met the previous day had worked here. If there was any pony that could match the exuberance of the place everyone knew as Sugarcube Corner, Peter knew it had to be Pinkie Pie.

Peter rode up to the side of Sugarcube Corner and parked his bike alongside it. Still knowing his bike was safe, he made his way to the entrance as soon as he dismounted. Upon walking in he was greeted to the sight of a colorful array of pastries and candies upon the display in the back, the shelves on the right, and the tables all around the store. What struck Peter as odd though was how much the place looked like the living room of a house, a rug in the center of the floor, stairs that looked too homey to be for another room in the store.

Peter looked to see two ponies in particular, both mares, sitting at one of the tables sipping drinks out of teacups with straws as they engaged in conversation. The first looked to be a pinkish-purple colored mare with a raspberry colored mane and tail. Her cutie mark featured a single strawberry and a bunch of grapes. The second was light-khaki in color and had a curly dark-blue mane and tail with a large pink streak down the middle. Her cutie mark was three candies tied in light-blue wrappers.

Upon seeing Peter, the two mares stopped their talking and gave Peter a wave, glad to be in the same room as him. Looked at the display case, looking at all the various cakes, muffins, and breads were available. Looking at the banana bread inside, he suddenly felt hungry, his apple from earlier feeling not as filling as he hoped. Peter walked up to the counter and found a bell. Tapping the button, he hoped for service soon. Sure enough, Pinkie Pie’s voice called out from upstairs.

“I got it!” she shouted.

Pinkie Pie trotted down the stairs from behind the counter and walked up, not seeming to notice Peter.

“Welcome to Sugarcube Corner,” she greeted, her eyes closed in the passion of her delivery, “home of the one and only–”

Pinkie Pie then looked up to see Peter standing before her. Seeing her new friend here, he was overjoyed.

“Peter,” she squealed, leaping over the counter and giving him a tight hug, “you’re here!”

“Aha,” coughed Peter, feeling the constriction of Pinkie Pie’s arms, “that I am.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked back, letting go of him. “Are you hungry?”

“As a matter of fact, I am, but in honesty, I was just taking a bike tour of the town so I can get to know it better.”

“Sounds like fun! I wish I could come, but I’m helping out the Cakes today. The foals are a bit cranky ‘cause they’re ‘tethering.’ I mean, you know what they say: ‘There’s no better time to teach your foals how to camp!’”

Peter was again dumbfounded by Pinkie Pie’s words, even with her confident smile that suggested that she made total sense in her mind. Pinkie Pie, seeing Peter’s expression, just remembered.

“That’s right!” she exclaimed. “You haven’t met the Cakes yet! They’re my bosses and they allow me to live here. They have a pair of foals, Pumpkin Cake and Pound Cake, and they’re tethering, so–”

“Uh, Pinkie,” interrupted Peter, trying to sound as polite as possible, “I think you mean teething, and that’s when babies get their first baby teeth in. The process is usually painful for them, and they tend to require some attention, so to summarize, the owners are a bit busy with their kids, so you’re subbing for them.”

Pinkie Pie cocked her head, trying to retain all of Peter’s information.

“Ooooh!” she exclaimed, brightening back up. “That’s why they were so cranky! I mean, how can tethering sound painful? Everypony loves camping! You have s’mores, bonfires, ghost stories, the great outdo–”

“Hey, Pinkie,” interrupted Peter once again, feeling a little sick of her rambling, “can I please just get some banana bread?”

“You got it!” she said, hopping back behind the counter and looking for the loaf.

Peter turned to the two ponies who were watching the entire conversation with mild-interest.

“She seems to take a liking to you,” said the pinkish pony.

“Please,” the khaki pony mentioned with a playful rolling of her eyes, “who does Pinkie not take a liking to?”

“Touché.”

“Well, she’s certainly… a card,” Peter said walking over to the two ponies. “Definitely can’t say I’ve ever known someone quite that random or than energetic before, even on my world.”

“She grows on you,” the khaki pony answered, “but where are my manners. My name is Bon-Bon. It’s an honor to meet you, Peter.”

“Likewise.”

Peter took Bon-Bon’s outstretched hoof and shook it, happy to acquaint himself with another pony.

“And I’m Berry Punch,” answered the other mare, offering her hoof to shake. “If you stick around long enough, you might just meet Lyra.”

“Lyra?” asked Peter, his tone suggesting his familiarity with the name.

“Yeah,” Bon-Bon replied. “You know her?”

“It’s a long story.”

“We have time,” Berry Punch said. “Our stores don’t open for another hour or so.”

“Stores… oh, shhhoot!”

“What’s wrong,” Pinkie Pie asked. “Did you change your mind on the banana bread?”

“Nothing, Pinkie!” he called back. “The bread is fine. I just forgot to call my pop!”

“Your dad? You have a dad here too?” asked Berry Punch.

“Another long story,” Peter replied.

“That’s great,” Pinkie Pie answered back, “because your bread is done!”

Peter looked to see three slices of the moist bread stacked on a small plate with a knife and a small dish containing a pat of butter inside of it. Peter nodded and went up to grab the plate.

“Much obliged,” he told Pinkie Pie.

Walking back, he placed the plate on the table at an open chair and pulled his phone out, going through Skype until he found his dad. Pressing the button on the screen, he rung for his dad and placed the phone in front of him, the ponies crowding around him to see. With Patrick answering the phone, the mares giggled in anticipation.

“Hey Peter,” answered Patrick. “What’s going on? Where are you?”

“I was just stopping into the local bakery for a bite for breakfast.”

“Okay, and who are the ponies crowded around you?”

“Oh, right. Patrick, I’d like you to meet my two new friends, Bon-Bon and Berry Punch. They were sitting at a table while I went to get my banana bread and so I decided to join them.”

“I have to say,” Bon-Bon said, putting her hoof to her heart, “it’s quite a wonderful surprise to be getting to talk to you.”

“Me too,” Berry Punch exclaimed, waving in the back.

“Yes,” Patrick chuckled, and I’m glad to see Peter’s settling in well. So, Peter, any plans for today?”

“Well, I was going to ride around the town and get to know my home a bit better, but I was also going to stop at my lot and take a look around, perhaps get a better idea for how I want the restaurant to look.”

“Well, good for you. Do you think I’ll be able to see it soon?”

“Personally, I’d rather wait until you see the final product. Plus, I don’t want to bail on my new friends before you have to leave for work.”

“Don’t sweat it, Pete. I’ll be fine waiting. Are you all moved in yet?”

“Yep. Got finished yesterday morning. Well, except for my appliances for the kitchen.”

“I got’cha.”

The sound of a door hitting a bell rung through the room, alerting everyone inside of a new customer. While Peter was momentarily still preoccupied with his dad, Bon-Bon and Berry Punch looked to see who it was. It was Lyra, and with her panting, it looked like she ran there.

“Well, look who decided to finally show,” Berry Punch said with a cheeky grin.

“Sorry, for being late,” Lyra responded, looking up to see her friends, “the train was a bit–”

Lyra then locked eyes with Peter, suddenly becoming overjoyed with his being there.

“Peter!” she squealed, galloping up to him and giving him a tight, gleeful hug.

“Another friend, I presume?” asked Patrick’s from the phone.

Lyra, still holding on to Peter, looked down to see Patrick’s face as he looked at the two of them inquisitively.

“Peter?” aked Lyra, letting herself down. “Is that your dad?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“No way!” she exclaimed, looking at the screen. “This is so cool! Hi, Mr. Peter’s Dad! Can you hear me?”

“Yes, I can hear you just fine,” Patrick answered, off put by the mint-green mare’s excitement. “In fact, Peter looks a bit busy. I’ll let you go now, Peter, but thanks for checking in.”

“Alright then. I’ll text you some pictures of the lot when I get the chance.”

“Sounds great, Peter. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

“Bye, pop.”

With the conversation over, Peter clicked the red button on the screen and put the phone back in his pocket.

“How are you able to do that?” asked Lyra. “Talk to your dad, that is.”

“And how do you know Lyra?” asked Bon-Bon.

“Alright,” Peter said, reaching for the knife and a slice of his bread, “I suppose now is as good a time as any.”

As Peter scooped some butter with his knife, he prepared to tell his story in fuller detail with his new set of friends.

____________________________________________________________

Peter enjoyed listening to the laughs that Lyra, Bon-Bon, and Berry Punch were making. His plate and small butter dish were empty, but Peter almost felt no reason to leave. The three ponies before him were certainly entertaining themselves as they recounted some of their own pasts with him. Lyra was the first one to stop giggling, wanting to talk a bit more.

“So, Peter,” asked Lyra. “What are you going to be doing for today?”

“I was going to head over to the lot where my restaurant will be. Oh, speaking of…”

Peter reached into his pocket and pulled out the paper with the address on it.

“Would any of you ladies be kind enough to tell me where… 7669 Riverside St. is?”

“Yeah, sure,” answered Lyra. “I know where Riverside is. I’ll take you there.”

“And as much fun as I’ve been having today,” Peter said, standing from his chair and putting his backpack on, “is it okay that I leave here and continue my day?”

“Oh, not at all!” Bon-Bon exclaimed. “I doubt you were even planning on spending your morning with us.”

“Besides,” Berry Punch said, “we gotta’ get to our shops and get them ready for opening. You should swing by my place sometime. I’ll give you a free smoothie.”

“That sounds great, but I already brought some money with me. You don’t have to go through that trouble for nothing. I mean, I’m no celebrity.”

“Well, when you’re the only one of your kind in the world, I’d say that’s someone to celebrate.”

“Hmm, touché, but still, I’d much rather pay myself. It’d be really hard to run a business giving all your stuff to your friends for free.”

“Well, if you insist, I won’t stop you.”

“Thank you. It really makes me feel a lot better. Oh, speaking of.”

Peter walked to the counter, looking around behind it to find Pinkie Pie, but she didn’t seem to be there. Not in a mood to shout for her, Peter then looked in the display for the price of the bread, only to see that a sign did not exist.

“Must be helping with the foals,” guessed Peter.

“Banana bread and butter is 6 bits,” Bon-Bon said.

“Ah,” exclaimed Peter, reaching into his bag, “thanks.”

Peter took one of his rolls of coins, tore it open, and placed two stacks of three on the counter next to the register.

“Alright,” Peter said, making his way to the exit, “let’s get going then. Farewell, ladies. I hope to see both of you again soon.”

“Bye, Peter!” called Berry Punch.

“See you soon!” bid Bon-Bon.

Peter walked outside of Sugarcube Corner, Lyra following him out. As Peter walked to the right, Lyra tilted her head in confusion.

“Where are you going?” she asked. “Riverside is this way!”

Peter came back around with his bicycle. The contraption mystified Lyra, having never quite seen something like this before.

“What’s that?” she wondered.

“It’s my bicycle,” he said. “It helps me travel a bit faster than on foot, but seeing as you’re going to be guiding me, I don’t think I’ll be using it now.”

“Alright then. Just follow me.”

Lyra marched ahead of Peter, feeling excited to be the one mare showing the only human in Equestria around town. As Peter walked behind Lyra, he couldn’t help but notice that she waved more eagerly than Peter was at the various townsponies that bid him hello. Peter was a bit more focused on following Lyra so he wouldn’t get lost.

As they approached the end of the road, they turned left and continued onwards. However, Peter’s sights were set on a series of tent-shaped homes and stalls for various purposes. There was one building that really stood out amongst them all. It was a tall, blueberry-colored building with pink roofs that looked to resemble a double-decker merry-go-round.

“Wow,” Peter gasped, “that pony’s mortgage must be outrageous.”

“That’s Carousel Boutique,” Lyra said. “If there’s anypony in Ponyville who will admire a restaurant here, it’s Rarity, but I assume you’ve met her already, being that she’s one of Twilight’s close friends.”

“I have, last night as a matter of fact.”

“Why don’t we go say hi?”

“Honestly,” Peter shrugged, “I’d much rather get on with it. Maybe after.”

“Okay. I’m alright with that. Besides, we’re almost there.”

Lyra continued to lead Peter down the way along the river. Much like Lyra had promised, a wooden building had come up on the end of a string of buildings that Peter couldn’t help but give an excited chuckle at. It appeared much like a city bistro with windows along the entire outside of the building. Along the front and left sides of the building was a gated area with small, clay fire pits on the corners; no doubt a patio.

Despite the initial look of the restaurant, Peter was saddened by its abandoned look. The windows were grimy and streaked with dust and grease. Bits of leaves, dirt and grass littered the floor of the patio, which was completely barren with furniture. Lyra looked to see Peter’s reaction, only to be dismayed to see his grimace.

“Peter?” Lyra questioned. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” Peter began, trying to force a smile, but gave up soon after. “It’s just I’ve never liked seeing closed restaurants. You have to imagine the care the owners put into running it, and what they eventually lost by giving it up.”

“I see… But, it’s your restaurant now. You’re going to be that owner running it and putting care into it. Go on, Peter.”

Peter leaned his bike against the gate of the patio, stepping up to the double doors before him. Pulling his key from his pocket and placing it inside the lock with a turn, Peter stepped inside the restaurant and in through another set of doors. Peter browsed from left to right, seeing what he had.

Unlike the outside, the inside looked clean and well preserved, minus the lack of furniture, light, or population. The left half of the building appeared to be a large dining room with a large fireplace on the very end. The middle-right quarter was a wrap-around bar with shelves that would appear to house a wide variety of alcohol. The rightmost quarter looked to be another dining area, but elevated up by a ramp.

Peter walked further into the restaurant and towards the back, where he could see the pass counter along the wall of the main dining room, as well as the kitchen entrance right beside it. Peter ran his finger across the counter of the bar, groaning at the thick layer of dust his finger had picked up. Stepping inside the kitchen as he rubbed his hand on his pants, Peter’s smile visibly returned, happy to see the kitchen as it was.

While there were no ovens, stoves, or fryers inside to speak of, the kitchen was very spacious and would provide him and his crew with ample room to work around. At the end of the kitchen was the entrance to the walk-in fridge, which was held open by a rubber door stop.

Peter walked inside, happy again to see the size and space of the fridge and all the food he’d be able to put inside of it. What amazed Peter even more was how nowhere, especially the kitchen or the walk-in, smelled dank with mold or mildew.

Whoever left this place really left it looking nice, Peter thought.

Peter picked out his iPhone from his pocket and turned on the camera setting, turning it sideways as the image kept focus.

____________________________________________________________

Lyra stood outside the building, waiting for Peter to come out, resorting to pacing as she waited. Peter, seeming to approach the door, turned back around and took three pictures of the dining room, the bar, and the side dining area in quick succession. Lyra glared at Peter expectantly, eagerly awaiting him to come out and let her know what he thought. Peter finally opened the outside doors, but held them open as he stood inside the doorway, looking at her.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “Do you like it?”

“Lyra,” he called with a wagging finger, “could you please step inside?”

“You want me to come inside? Sure thing, Peter!”

Lyra trotted inside, stopping at the foyer and browsing the entire restaurant with her eyes. As Lyra gawked at what she was seeing, Peter knelt down and took pictures of her with his phone once again.

“This is great!” complimented Lyra. “This restaurant is going to look so spiffy once it gets fixed up!”

“Lyra,” requested Peter, pointing at the border of the dining room and bar, “could you stand there and face me?”

Lyra turned to face Peter, looking where he was pointing, and then at the point where he wanted her.

“S– sure, Peter,” Lyra answered with hesitation, backing up to the intended spot.

“Now,” he asked, “can you give me your best smile?”

Lyra, as asked, gave Peter a genuine and welcoming smile as Peter snapped two pictures of her. Standing up with a groaning sigh, Peter looked at his final two pictures, smiling at Lyra’s happy expression.

“Say, Lyra,” Peter asked, “nothing personal, but are you employed?”

“Employed?” Lyra asked with suspicion. “Why do you want to know that?”

“It’s just…” he squeaked, trying to find the right words, “you are a very nice mare, and I’ve really enjoyed your help and company while I’ve been here. The reason I ask is because I thought you would make a great maître d for my restaurant.”

Lyra froze, unsure if she could have possibly heard Peter correctly. Slowly turning to him with a stunned expression, Peter looked down on her, smiling to confirm his honesty.

“You mean…” she shuddered, “you want me to be the maître d of your res–”

“That’s exactly what I’m asking from you,” Peter responded with humorous frankness.

Lyra’s smiling lips stretched across her face, revealing nearly every tooth in her mouth. Jumping to her back hooves, she wrapped her arms around Peter’s chest, laughing and crying at the opportunity handed to her.

“Of course, I will!” she shouted. “Thank you so much!”

“You deserve it, Lyra,” he said, petting down her back.

Lyra’s joy and pleasure was channeled to her tail, which began to wag incessantly as Peter tried holding the excited green unicorn still.

____________________________________________________________

Back in Twilight’s study, Peter was penning a letter on her desk, a tan-colored owl with brown wings watching him from above on a perch with slight caution. Even as the library entrance came open downstairs, the sound of hoofsteps coming up the stairs shortly afterwards, Peter’s face was drawn to his letter. Twilight entered into her study with two saddlebags filled with fresh fruit and vegetables, seeing Peter in her desk.

“Oh, Peter!” Twilight greeted. “You’re home early. How did it go?”

“Great, actually,” Peter responded, still writing. “I think I’ve already hired my first staff member.”

“Already? Who might that be?”

“Lyra Heartstrings,” Peter answered as he dipped his quill into the inkwell on each word for effect. “She’s going to be my maître d.”

“Really? What made you come to that decision?”

“You should know,” he responded, as he placed his quill in the well, finished with it. “She’s kind, charismatic, charming, just the right kind of pony to give the first impression for my restaurant.”

“And she said yes?”

“You should have seen her, Twilight. Her tail was wagging so hard as she hugged me. I don’t think I’ve even seen dogs so excited to see their owners return home.”

“Well, that was very nice of you, Peter. I’m sure she’ll make a fine host.”

“Hey, Spike!” shouted Peter, making Twilight jump a touch.

“Yeah, Peter!” Spike called back as he ran down the stairs from the top floor.

“What is that you’re writing there?” asked Twilight as Spike snatched the letter from Peter’s grasp.

“Oh, nothing,” Peter chirped with an impish smile. “Just writing a request letter for a sous chef.”

Spike rolled and sealed the letter with graceful gusto. With a deep inhale and a hard blow, Spike’s fire breath engulf the letter before both the smoke and the fire collapsed inwards before disappearing with a poof.

“A sous chef?” wondered Twilight. “Who are you looking for in Canterlot that would be your–”

Twilight, suddenly understanding, perked her ears up with widened eyes and an expression of discovery. Twilight, imagining the reaction of the intended recipient, then gave a warm smile as she imagined how they would react to it.

____________________________________________________________

Celestia sat at a small, but beautifully carved stone table across from Luna, an empty bowl of soup in front of each of them. As Celestia dabbed her lips and muzzle with her napkin, a purple flame puffed before her, which formed into a sealed and rolled scroll that gently set itself on the table next to her. Celestia, intrigued, unrolled it with her magic and began reading it. Seeing who the letter was addressed to, Celestia set the paper face down on the table.

“Who was it for?” asked Luna curiously.

Before Celestia could answer, Crème Fraiche stepped into the dining room holding two covered plates in her magic. Once she had levitated the empty soup bowls out of Celestia and Luna’s way, she set the trays down, pulling the lids off to reveal a peeled beet sitting in a white, herby sauce with a dollop of mashed potatoes beside it.

“Your majesties,” Crème Fraiche presented, “dinner is a roasted beet in a dill and parsley cream sauce with mashed potatoes infused with cauliflower puree.”

“Thank you, Crème,” bid Celestia, floating the letter towards her. “I believe this is for you.”

“For me?” she wondered, intrigued as she put the paper to her face and read.

Her eyes quickly scanned the paper as she got the gist of the letter. Upon reading the true intentions inside, Crème Fraiche gasped loudly, her magic ceasing from the shock and making the letter fall to the floor. Celestia and Luna turned to look at the petrified Crème Fraiche, her eyes moistening as she gently sniffled.

Suspicious, Celestia picked up the paper and read it herself. Upon realizing what she had read, Celestia herself couldn’t withhold a shocked expression, which became a warm and loving smile.

“Crème Fraiche,” Celestia spoke.

“Y– y– y– yes?” she stammered.

“He really does respect and care for you, doesn’t he?”

“Your majesty…?”

“You must be having a hard time deciding, aren’t you?” Celestia responded, getting up from her seat and walking to Crème Fraiche. “Tell me, Crème, what do you want to do? I’ll support you either way.”

“But… your… your maj–”

“You’ve always called me by that title,” she giggled, “but I’d like to think of you as more than just my personal chef. You have fed my sister and I for many years and you have shaped the life of someone who wasn’t even of this world. I think you should let him repay you.”

“What!?” Crème Fraiche shouted, looking about her in a fluster. “B– but, what about your kit–”

“You needn’t worry. As difficult as it may be, I’ll be sure that your kitchen is placed in the hooves of a pony just as honorable and talented as you. All that I care about is that you work in the kitchen that you want to.”

Crème Fraiche looked away with tearing eyes, still unsure of which choice she should make.

“Crème, you have been a wonderful chef and a valuable friend, but I don’t want you to stay here if you would much rather accept Peter’s offer in Ponyville.”

Crème looked back into Celestia’s sympathetic and caring eyes.

“So…” Crème Fraiche asked, reaching her breaking point. “I suppose that was my final meal I cooked for you, then?”

“If that is what you wish,” Celestia responded.

Crème Fraiche, fully embracing the offer, leapt onto Princess Celestia and hugged her tight, bawling into her neck. Luna, her plate completely untouched as she watched the ordeal, smiled, glad to see such a momentous decision come to pass. Celestia gently rubbed her hoof on the crying mare’s back, letting her know that everything for her would be alright in the end.

Author's Note

Yes, Sparke is back, and it will stay back!

However, I want to be honest with you. Having graduated college, a lot of my time will be invested in looking for work/internships, so if updates feel sparse, so be it, but it will not mean that I'm stopping this story. I'm just busy with life right now.

Chapter 15: Finishing Touches

Rarity paced in front of the abandoned restaurant in the early morning, waiting for Peter to arrive as he had said he would. Despite only being there for a few minutes, her face read as if she had been there for twenty, maybe thirty minutes, hints of worry and agitation etched upon it.

However, she lit up upon seeing Peter’s bike ride up towards her, composing herself to a more positive disposition. Peter smiled in return upon seeing Rarity so happy to see him, stopping his bike along the gate of the patio and walking up towards her.

“Hey,” he greeted. “Thanks for coming here so early.”

“Oh, perish the thought!” Rarity responded with a flick of her hoof. “I was so excited to hear that you wanted my help that I couldn’t help but come right over.”

“Well, I’m very happy to hear that. Now, shall we walk inside?”

“After you, darling,” she mentioned with a graceful motioning of her hoof.

Peter nodded in appreciation as he stepped inside the double doors before Rarity, holding both the outside and inside doors open with this arm and leg. Rarity merely giggled as she pulled the other two doors open with her magic, stepping inside and looking about the place.

While she too seemed impressed by the lack of dust and cobwebs, she still felt a bit overwhelmed by the empty nature of the place.

“Good heavens,” Rarity spoke, “we have our work cut out for us.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Peter sighed as he walked in as well.

“Well, answer me this. How do you see this place?”

“I personally envisioned a modern bistro, kind of like the one my dad used to run.”

“A bistro?” Rarity asked, a touch of offence in her voice.

“Why?” he asked, slightly hurt. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Oh, nothing at all. It’s merely that I don’t normally dine in bistros, so I can’t exactly envision the look all that well.”

“Oh, I see.”

“That said,” she approached, “I will not leave you on your last leg because of this little hiccup. I’m still more than capable of producing a color palate for you. Tell me, Peter, what do you see being the primary color here?”

Peter glanced around the walls and floors of the place, trying to envision a fully finished and packed restaurant and how it would look once ready to open.

“I have many shades of brown in mind,” he answered, walking into the main dining hall. “I want a nice dark shade in here to calm and pacify the guests, as well as slightly lighter shades for the rocks surrounding the fireplace and flu.”

“Alright,” Rarity responded, making a mental note. “Any kind of furniture?”

“For the tables, I just see regular wooden chairs. For the booths, I see a matching wood color with dark-red cushions.”

“Fair enough…”

“As for the bar…” pondered Peter, stepping into that section, “I want this to be a lighter brown, because this is going to be a bit more lively area than the dining room.”

“Duly noted.”

“And have this little area over here be just like the dining room,” he mentioned, pointing to the smaller dining area on the right.

“Drapes?”

“Sturdy and red.”

“Glasses? Silverware?”

“Martini, wine, ale, water, and of course silverware.”

“And the patio?”

“I was thinking black metal chairs and tables; nothing too difficult.”

“I see. It’s certainly doable, but there’s a bit of a problem.”

“Hmm? What’s that?”

“I don’t think you’re going to find what you’re looking for in Ponyville. You’re certainly going for a more urban approach when most of what Ponyville has to offer is quite… rustic and rural.”

“And having it hand… or hoofmade here will take too much time and money.”

“But,” added Rarity, “like I said, it’s very doable. We just might need to wait a couple of days so we can order some catalogs.”

“Catalogs?”

“Why, yes, darling! For the style you wish to achieve, you’re going to need to order from the shops in Manehattan, and all of the catalogs are available by mail-or-pick up, and even then to order all of that in bulk…!”

“Rarity,” Peter laughed, “I knew this wasn’t going to be a cakewalk, and I’m fully prepared to take whatever steps I need to take in order to make my restaurant.”

Rarity eased down and stepped out of Peter’s space, having not realized it before.

“Oh…” she sheepishly spoke, “of course. Well, that’s very responsible of you. I know just the places to ask for them too. So whenever they come,” she said, walking to the exit, “I’ll be sure to give you a message and let you know when we can browse them together.”

“Uh, yeah…” he called back with a wave. “No problem.”

“I’ll see you then! Farewell, Peter!”

Peter smiled as Rarity’s sing-song humming floated away down the street. However, her singing abruptly stopped when she called out to an approaching pony.

“Miss!” Rarity’s voice called out, which Peter barely made out. “You can’t go in there! That’s private property!”

“I know,” the mare said as she began to walk into the building, revealing herself as Crème Fraiche to an elated Peter. “I know the owner.”

“Crème Fraiche!” Peter greeted, walking towards her with open arms.

“Peter!” she responded, standing to her hind legs and letting Peter give her a tight embrace. “So this is your restaurant, huh?”

“Yeah,” he answered, setting her back down. “In fact, that white unicorn and I just went over the proposed interior for the place.”

“Oh, that’s splendid, Peter! You wouldn’t mind confiding in me, would you?”

“Certainly not. I was thinking a classy, but modern bistro.”

“That sounds like a great, idea. Also, I got your letter, and as you could probably tell by my appearance here, I accepted!”

With a happy laugh, Peter and Crème Fraiche shared another hug with each other over the happy news.

“I’m guessing Celestia was alright with your leaving?” asked Peter

“Are you joking?” Crème Fraiche responded with added vigor. “She’s the one who convinced me to do it!”

“That’s still very good to hear, and I’m glad that Celestia has taken it so well. Where are you staying then?”

“In an apartment right now,” she said. “It might take a while to get used to after spending nearly your entire career in Canterlot, but the little towns still have an unbeatable charm to them.”

“I see… Oh!” he suddenly remembered. “That unicorn, Rarity, by the way, was going to order some catalogs for the furniture for this place, but they won’t be in for a couple of days. Why don’t we, in that time, perhaps spend some time drafting up a menu?”

Crème Fraiche giggled with her hoof to her mouth, extremely humbled.

“Peter,” she declared, “I would be honored to have part in the creation of your restaurant’s menu!”

“Speaking of food,” Peter suggested, “how about breakfast? My treat of course.”

“That sounds lovely! I’m famished!”

Peter and Crème Fraiche began to walk out to the exit of the restaurant side by side.

“Have you given any thoughts to a name for your new bistro, yet?”

“I have one in mind…” Peter responded with an enigmatic tease.

The two pushed open the double doors to the outside into the rising morning sun.

____________________________________________________________

At Twilight’s study, Peter and Crème Fraiche sat at a table beside each other as both of them scribbled on a notepad with various ideas and misconceptions about the menu and the items within.

“What about…” thought Peter aloud, “a cheese plate?”

“That actually doesn’t sound bad at all,” Crème responded. “What kind of cheeses were you planning?”

“Without a doubt, brie, parmesan, and bleu. I think cheddar is a bit too… common.”

“Not if you can find a good aged cheddar.”

Peter shrugged and cocked his head, having quickly been trumped.

“Aged cheddar it is,” he agreed as he wrote the item down.

Behind the two of them, Spike came down the stairs with two teacups and a teapot with a doily and cozy set beneath an on top of it all on a tray.

“Here’s your tea, guys,” Spike said, placing the tray on the table as Crème Fraiche took all the contents off. “How’s your work coming along?”

“Great, actually,” Peter said. “Crème Fraiche was the one who taught and inspired me to cook, so we have a lot of similar interests for the menu. In fact, we might just have a pretty solid draft before dinner.”

“That’s great, Peter. Say, you wouldn’t mind putting something with gemstones on the menu, would you?”

Peter giggled at Spike’s naivety, disheartening Spike somewhat.

“Spike,” explained Peter, “you’d probably be the only dragon who would even want to step foot into my restaurant, so I can’t put an item on for such a limited clientele, but tell you what. When you come over to my restaurant, I’ll be sure to whip you up something special. How does that sound?”

“Oh, yeah!” he responded, brightening up. “Thanks, Peter. Well, I’ll be upstairs if you need anything else.”

“Thanks, bud.”

“And thank you for the tea, Spike,” Crème Fraiche said as she poured her and Peter a cup.

“Yeah, no problem. Call me if you need me!”

Spike left Peter and Crème Fraiche to their business, who promptly turned back to their notebook to continue their work.

“And what should we use as a palate cleanser?” asked Peter. “A water cracker sounds nice, but I was thinking of some kind of nut and fruit combination.”

“Walnuts and figs,” Crème Fraiche decided with absolute certainty.

“Nice.”

Peter wrote it down, smiling gladly to see his menu coming along so well.

____________________________________________________________

Peter rode his bike through town with a small messenger bag on his side. As he passed the townsponies’ various shops and stalls, or the ones just walking about, he gave them a wave, which each of them returned. As he kept his eyes out over the entire area to ensure that no one would be in his way, he saw one pony that took his attention away, noting her mint green coat.

It was Lyra.

“Watch out!” shouted a child’s voice.

Peter looked down to see the orange pegasus filly Scootaloo riding a blue scooter ride out right into his path. Peter quickly swerved around the filly from behind, Peter tried to make his way back to his intended path to avoid a brown stallion with an hourglass cutie mark.

Even as he applied his brakes, the grass proved too slippery for the tires to catch, sliding his bike out and tipping over, falling to his side as the brown pony skittered out of the bike’s way. Peter groaned as he sat up, the white unicorn filly Sweetie Belle and the yellow filly Apple Bloom running to Peter’s aid while Scootaloo rode up on her scooter.

“Peter!” Apple Bloom half-greeted half-shouted. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah,” he spoke, failing to mask the feeling of soreness he felt. “Just a little scuffed up. Bike should be fine too.”

“I’m sorry,” whined Scootaloo. “I didn’t mean to!”

“Don’t worry about it. I did some things as a kid I wasn’t too proud of either. It just comes with growing up.”

“Peter!” shouted Lyra’s voice.

Peter turned his body and head to see Lyra coming up and charging her horn up. As she stood before him and the three fillies, she lifted him off his rump and let him stand on his own two feet.

“I saw you fall and I just…” she panted as Peter brushed his shirt and pants off. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No, Peter said, pushing his lower back in with his hands, “and thank you.”

“You ought to be more careful,” she said to Scootaloo in a much sterner expression. “You could have really hurt him or yourselves.”

“I said I was sorry,” she responded with sincerity.

“What’s going on over here?” Applejack’s voice called out.

She approached the four ponies and human as Lyra looked up to see the orange mare approach them.

“It’s nothing, really, Applejack,” assured Peter. “Just foals being foals, is all.”

“Scootaloo rode out in front of Peter and made him crash his bike!”

“What? None of y’all are hurt, are ya’?”

“No,” Peter defended, “and don’t be too hard on her. It was an accident. I’m not angry about it, and I’m the one who fell.”

Scootaloo shook her head in front of Applejack upon her gaze being made her way.

“Well, that’s good to hear,” she sighed. “Well, I’m just checking in.”

“Actually,” Peter called back, reaching out to her as she turned to leave, “now that both of you are here, I have something to ask from both of you.”

“Huh? Sure, Pete. Whatch’ y’all need?”

“I was actually heading over to Rarity’s to look at some furniture for the new restaurant. When I order it and it’s shipped here, do you know anyone who could help me bring it in and set it up?”

“Why, sure, Pete! In fact, y’all are lookin’ at her!”

Peter’s eyes widened at the stunning statement.

“Huh?” he asked. “You would do that?”

“Well, not just me. I can get Big Mac and a bunch of others from my family to come and help. I’m sure they’ll be jumping over themselves to help a friend in need.”

“Wow… I honestly don’t know what to say, except… thank you, Applejack.”

“Aw, shucks, it’s no big deal. Just tell me when you expect the stuff to show up, and we’ll be there.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“And what did you need from me, Peter?” asked Lyra from behind.

“Right…”

Peter unzipped his messenger bag and pulled out his notebook, which still looked to be in decent condition despite Peter’s fall. Lyra hovered the notebook before her and flipped through the pages, noting the different meals and other food options upon it.

“Is…” she stammered. “Is this your menu?”

“No way!” Sweetie Belle exclaimed as she, Apple Bloom, and Scootaloo clamored behind Lyra to peek upon the pages.

“I want to see!” Apple Bloom begged. “I want to see!”

“Girls!” barked Peter. “That menu for Lyra’s eyes only as of now. As my maître d, she needs to study the menu and get to know it well for when the restaurant opens.”

“Oh…” the three of them sulked as they stepped away from Lyra.

“Listen, the restaurant will be open very soon, and you can see the menu then. Honestly, all we have to do is get the place furbished and hire a staff and we’re all set. You think you can be patient for me?”

The three fillies managed to smile for Peter and gave him a synchronized nod.

“Good,” she said, “now, you three run along.”

Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom all galloped off down the street while Scootaloo sped away, close by their side. Applejack watched them go off before she turned to face Lyra.

“So you’re the tomaterdee of Pete’s restaurant?” Applejack asked.

“Maître d,” corrected Peter with an index finger pointed up. “That’s the head waiter and host of the restaurant.”

“Golly, looks like you got your work cut out for you, but I’m pretty sure Pete made the right decision in picking you, and I’m darned sure you’ll make a fine… whatever you are.”

“That’s very nice of you, Applejack. I’m really looking forward to it.”

“Well, I don’t see any reason to keep Pete here any longer than he needs to.”

“No,” objected Peter, “it’s quite alright. I wanted to talk to the both of you anyway.”

“Still, you have your work cut out for you with Rarity, and boy do I mean that,” she mumbled with a slightly nauseous tone.

“Thanks again,” Peter said as he walked over to grab his bike, which he found leaned against the side of a pony’s market stand.

The brown stallion from earlier gave Peter a nod, signaling the deed he did for him. Peter gave him a thankful nod back and walked the bike down the road.

“See you two later!” he shouted out as he hopped onto the bike’s seat and sped away.

Lyra and Applejack waved as Peter disappeared from sight.

____________________________________________________________

Rarity sat at her dining room/kitchen table with a light flower sandwich on white bread on her plate, along with a glass of ice water. She took a small bite of her sandwich and chewed often, savoring the taste. With a knock on her front door, Rarity’s eyes bulged open, and with an unnecessarily strong gulp of her sandwich, she darted to her door.

Slamming the door open, Peter jumped back a couple of feet to see Rarity with her overly happy smile greeting him.

“Jesus Christ, Rarity,” Peter gasped. “I’m here, okay?”

“Oh,” she said, straightening her already flawless mane, “my apologies. It’s just with the catalogs coming so soon, I was just so excited to finally get to work with you.”

“I’m happy for that, but let’s just try and keep the Annie Wilkes at a minimum, alright?”

“I’m sorry…” she responded with a cock of her head, “who?”

“I… never mind. Let’s get started.”

“Yes, please do co-ho-HOH!” she suddenly shouted as she noticed the green and brown stains on his pants. “Dear me! What happened to you?”

“I just had a bit of an accident,” Peter responded, feeling trapped. “No need to fuss.”

“Nonsense! Those are practically unwearable now! Do come inside so I can clean them!”

“Can we just–”

Peter was interrupted by a yanking of the waist of his pants forcing him inside as he yelped in surprise.

____________________________________________________________

Peter, still feeling flustered with Rarity’s vigor, wiped sweat off his brow as both he and Rarity sat on her couch before a wooden table. Replacing Peter’s pants was a silken towel that covered his waist all the way down to the middle of his shins.

Rarity pointed her hoof excitedly at a brown, wooden, cube-shaped stool with a red cushion beneath it. Rarity nodded to Peter, hoping to earn his approval. Peter, letting out a nervous chuckle, patted Rarity on the lower back, hoping he could calm her down.

Realizing the fool she was making of herself, she let out a slight smile and blush as she flipped the page open to the next possible sets. Peter, appreciating her change in tone, moved his hand to below the base of her mane and gently pet her, pointing to a classic brown, four-legged chair, Rarity marking this choice with a red marker.

____________________________________________________________

At the crack of dawn, Applejack stood outside the premises of Peter’s restaurant with Big Macintosh and four other ponies. One was a light-orange stallion with a combed brown mane and tail with three blue horseshoes for a cutie mark. Standing beside him was a yellow stallion wearing a brown cowboy hat and vest, with an orange mane and tail and three red apples upon his flank.

Two stallions with similar builds to Big Macintosh, but with slenderer faces stood beside the yellow stallion. One was green in color and had a golden-yellow mane and tail and the bottom-halves of three apples for a cutie mark. The other was orange in color with a green mane and tail and a basket of apples as his cutie mark. All around them were wooden baskets of tools, as well as several buckets of paint.

“Alright, y’all,” Applejack commanded, “Pete’s gonna’ be here leadin’ the delivery ponies right here with the chairs and tables and whatnot. I promised Pete that we’d do a bang-up job before sundown, and gosh darn it, I ain’t breakin’ no promises!”

“We got this, cuz’,” the yellow stallion responded. “It’ll be just like when we fixed your barn.”

“Listen here, cuz,” Applejack responded with a stern stink-eye to him, “this ain’t no barn we’re fixing up. This is going to be a fine eating establishment. I want this place to look good enough that even Aunt and Uncle Orange would kill to walk in here.”

“Aha…” the pony nervously chuckled with a few drops of sweat, “of course.”

“Right this way!” Peter’s voice called out from behind the buildings.

Applejack, Big Macintosh, and the four other ponies turned to the source of the sound, only to see Peter jogging towards his restaurant with a parade of burly brown earth ponies pulling around a dozen carriages, going down the restaurant’s street as per Peter’s instruction. Walking alongside the sixth cart was Rarity, her bags stuffed with cleaning supplies and cloths.

“Good morning!” she loudly chirped in sing-song.

“Oh,” Peter panted, walking up to Applejack and her crew, “I forgot to tell you. Rarity’s going to help with cleaning and polishing the place up while you guys work.”

Applejack rolled her eyes upon this mention.

“You have nothing to worry about,” Rarity assured her. “With my help, we’ll make Peter’s restaurant the finest looking in all of Ponyville!”

“You really don’t,” added Peter. “I’ll be overseeing the lot of you, so I’ll make sure no one gets out of hand.”

“Oh yeah!” Applejack exclaimed. “I forgot to introduce you to the rest of my crew.”

Applejack trotted over to the three other ponies standing next to Big Macintosh, Peter eager to follow.

“You’ve already met Big Mac,” she said.

“Eeyup,” the red stallion replied proudly.

“Now, you haven’t met these guys, but most of them are my cousins from places in Equestria. Pete,” she motioned to the light-orange pony, “this is Caramel. He ain’t no apple, but he’s Ponyville family all the same.”

“Hey,” Caramel greeted as Peter shook his hoof. “Can’t wait to see this thing when it’s done.”

“You and me both,” Peter said.

“Now, Peter,” motioned Applejack, going to Braeburn, “these are all my cousins. This here is Braeburn from Appleloosa.”

“Howdy,” Braeburn happily yapped as he shook Peter’s hand with both hooves. “Pleasure to finally meet ya’.”

“And these here are twins,” Applejack introduced motioning to the green stallion and then the orange one, “Apple Slice and Bushel.”

“Howdy,” Apple Slice cordially spoke with a hoof over his heart.

“Glad to meet ya’,” Bushel said.

“I’m glad you were all able to make it,” addressed Peter, stepping back to the back end of one of the parked carriages, “but we have a lot of work to do, so let’s get started.”

Peter grabbed hold of the latch to the carriage doors and opened them up, sighing contently at what was within them.

____________________________________________________________

Big Macintosh hoisted a brown, square table with a heavy metal stand into the room, setting it down at a comfortable space from the other tables and chairs they had set, panting and sweating as they took a seat on the polished wood floors.

By the fireplace, Braeburn removed the gray, rocky bricks from the fireplace with a crowbar and replaced them with a reddish-brown granite, keeping them firmly stuck in with a thick cement. Apple Slice and Bushel stood on tall, sturdy ladders as they painted the walls in a nice dark brown.

Rarity stood in the capsule-shaped bar, her magic grasping a couple of cloths, one of them made of silk, a spray bottle, and a few martini glasses. With one cloth and the spray bottle, she sprayed cleaner on the countertop and wiped the dust and grime off. With the silk cloth, she polished the three glasses and then slipped them in the now-spotless gold hanging racks above her head.

Peter stepped inside with a greasy apron on, observing with pride at the massive improvements already made with their help.

“Lunch break!” Peter shouted, jogging back outside.

At once, the other ponies, elated with the sound of a meal, set their tools and materials down and made their way to the exit. As they stepped outside, they saw as Peter grabbed half a cap of a portabella mushroom off a small grill and placed it on an light, airy bread that already had leaves of lettuce, sliced tomato, a spicy orange sauce, and a shredded white cheese on it.

“Smells awful good,” Braeburn whooped. “What’re we eatin’?”

“Since you asked,” Peter explained cheekily as he placed the finished sandwich on a large plate containing seven others on a messy picnic table with his knives and bits of food everywhere, “this is portabella mushrooms grilled and basted with garlic-butter, chopped romaine, tomato, a southwestern-style sauce, and shredded white cheddar cheese on ciabatta bread.”

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake!” Applejack shouted with a drooling mouth. “Just give us one already!”

“Of course,” he responded, presenting the platter.

As each of the ponies grabbed a sandwich, the sound of two ponies carrying a large cart containing an equally large rectangular object concealed in a heavy cloth brought Peter’s attention away. He saw as two large unicorn ponies stopped before Peter and his crew with their package. Knowing exactly what it was, Peter grabbed his sandwich and turned to face Applejack and Rarity, whose eyes were closed and their mouths smiling and chewing their sandwiches.

“Hey,” he asked them, “you can keep a secret from Twilight until tonight, right?”

Both Applejack and Rarity nodded, still focused on their delicious sandwiches. Peter, his trust sated, took a bite of his own.

____________________________________________________________

Peter stood inside his newly completed and empty interior that night, seeing everything was as he wanted. A dark brown dining room with the granite fireplace, brown tables and booths, red cushions on the chairs, and red drapes covering the windows. The bar was a polished-light brown with matching high-stools with red cushions, and looked nearly perfect minus the complete lack of alcohol.

The kitchen seen through the pass still looked barren, but far cleaner than he saw it coming in for the first time. Looking at his watch, he turned to the exit, stepping out and stopping to look at the patio on both sides. The floors were free of loose leaves and cut grass and the tables and chairs gleamed even in the faint moonlight. A small fire pit was set in the corner on the left more clean tables and chairs surrounding it.

Stepping further outside and facing his restaurant, the building’s color matched the dark-brown interior of the dining room. The only kind of blemish was the cloth-wrapped rectangular object from earlier in the afternoon.

Soon the sounds of nine distinct voices came up from the back, Peter turning back around to see Twilight, Rainbow Dash, Applejack, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, Rarity, Lyra, Crème Fraiche, and Spike appearing from behind the block and seeing Peter’s restaurant, their eyes widening on the sleek and newly fixed building they now saw. Peter beamed and hugged his fists to his upper chest, upon hearing their positive clamoring.

“Wow, Peter,” Twilight complimented. “This place looks great.”

“Thank you,” Applejack and Rarity responded in tandem, each of them giving each other a smug smile.

“But it’s not quite done yet,” Peter said, motioning the ponies to come closer.

The ponies, minus Applejack and Rarity, unsure of what Peter meant, sported confused looks as they approached. It was Lyra who noticed the cloth-wrapped rectangle on the front of the restaurant’s wall.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, “I get it! It’s the sign!”

“The sign?” asked Twilight. “You came up with a name already?”

“I did,” Peter answered. “In fact, I was wondering if you would like to have the honors.”

“Honors?”

“Yeah, go ahead. Pull the cloth off.”

Twilight’s ears drooped and her cheeks blushed at the honor she had been given.

“I… uh…” she giggled nervously. “If you say so…”

Twilight stepped up and charged her horn, a magenta aura covering a corner of the cloth. With a whip of her head the cloth came off, and once Twilight looked back up to see the name, she and her friends gasped, stunned by the name Peter had christened his restaurant with, Twilight more so.

Sparké

Twilight put a hoof to her mouth, her eyes leaking tears. The others were too very surprised at the name, while Applejack and Rarity smiled, touched by Peter’s kindness.”

“So?” Peter asked. “What do you think, Sparky?”

“Peter,” Twilight sobbed. “You…”

“I wanted to name this place after the one who became my best friend throughout my stay in Equestria. The spark of my life.”

Twilight leapt onto Peter and hugged him tight, wiping her tears on his shirt.

“I love it!” she cried. “This is wonderful, Peter.”

Peter fished his phone from his pocket, swiping through the menu and pulling up the camera, redirecting the lens to aim at him, Twilight, and his the sign of his restaurant.

“Twilight,” he spoke.

Twilight, looking at the phone and realizing a picture would be taken, beamed and giggled, her eyes still wet. The other friends, happy to see Twilight as she was, warmly smiled at their togetherness.

“Check it out, dad,” he said to the camera with a happy laugh.

Peter pressed the red icon, capturing the moment of his next step to his true dream.

Chapter 16: Filling Up

Peter and Crème Fraiche sat at a single long table facing the kitchen. The sound of sizzling and chopping sounded off loudly within the kitchen. Meanwhile, a line of stallions carried in around a dozen crates jingling with filled glass bottles towards the bar. Inside, Lyra toured Berry Punch inside, allowing her to accustom herself with the bar’s various glasses and alcohols. Berry Punch looked like a kid in a candy store that had just been given the key and the deed.

“I trust you know what each of these glasses are?” asked Lyra.

“You don’t need to worry,” Berry Punch replied. “I own at least one of each of these kinds of glasses at home.”

“You like to drink a lot?” asked Lyra.

“Not so much drinking as much as making them. In a way, it’s kind of like being a chef like Peter. You measure your ingredients, mix them up, and then, voila!”

“I see. And you think you can act as this restaurant’s bartender?”

“Lyra, please,” she chuckled. “Peter didn’t request me because I can only make a market-stand smoothie. Just move aside…”

Berry Punch knocked a top off one of the crates a pulled out a collection of bottles of different liquors from inside of it, leaving Lyra unsure what she could be possibly be making. From the side of the dining room, a dark-cream colored earth stallion with a natural-orange mane and tail walked out of the kitchen, wheeling in a cart with his teeth upon the handle. Noticing the ponies appearance, Peter and Crème Fraiche eyed him as he approached the table.

“Hello again, Spic Span,” greeted Peter.

“Yes, hi,” the pony slightly stammered.

“Hmm. You sound nervous. Why?”

“It’s just… I’ve never cooked for somepon– someone such as yourself. I only want to look my best.”

“Well, let’s see what you have,” spoke Crème Fraiche.

The pony lifted the top of his tray, revealing a long, ovular plate of large raviolis sitting in a creamy white sauce. In the very center of the plate was a small tower of seasoned cherry tomatoes and a basil leaf on top.

“Alright,” said Peter. “What is this dish?”

“This is wild mushroom ravioli in a garlic and truffle alfredo sauce. The filling for the ravioli is bolete and chanterelle mushrooms cooked in a port wine reduction. The tomatoes are there to help reduce the sweetness and bring out some tartness.”

Peter and Crème Fraiche were already eating a half-ravioli and tomato half that had previously been speared on their forks. Spic Span nervously scanned his eyes between his two judges as he saw their own eyes widen.

“Spic Span,” giggled Peter, “you really have no reason to be nervous. That was delicious.”

“What?” he gasped. “Really?”

“Yes, really. You’re right, the ravioli and the sauce would be way too rich without the tomatoes mellowing out those intense flavors. Also, quite brave of you to use a red wine in a white sauce. But I really, really like it.”

“I do too,” added Crème Fraiche, “the choice of mushrooms was also excellent. The earthiness of the chanterelle really worked well with the port, and very smart to use garlic in with the sauce. The mushrooms really compliment it.”

“So…” Spic Span wondered, “does that mean…”

“We still have quite a few more applicants to look at,” said Peter, reviewing the pony’s resume. “We just wanted to see your own creativity and cooking skills so we can determine the best and most innovative cooks. We’ll be sure to let you know soon, okay?”

“Oh… uh, okay!”

“It’s been a pleasure. Take it easy.”

As Peter and Crème Fraiche shook Spic Span's hoof, Lyra watched with wonder at the bar as Berry Punch vigorously shook the ice and liquid inside a large, metal cocktail shaker. Lyra then put her face close to two glasses set on the bar beside a bottle of cola and dumped the yellowish contents of the shaker into the glasses.

“I’ve never had a Manehattan Iced Tea before,” Lyra said. “Do you really need that much alcohol?”

“Absolutely,” answered Berry punch as she splashed some of the cola into both glasses. “Besides, you won’t even taste it.”

With a strong stir of her glass, the cola was mixed in, giving the drink a light-caramel color. Lyra picked up her drink in her magic aura while Berry Punch grabbed hers with both of her hooves. Both then watched as the next cooking candidate among a moderate line of others outside stepped in towards Peter and Crème Fraiche’s table.

“Cheers,” Berry Punch said, clinking the side of her glass against Lyra’s glass.

With gladdened smiles following after, the two ponies smiled as they took sips of their cocktails. Lyra’s eyes shot open at the odd, but refreshingly tasty flavor of her drink. Smacking her mouth to register the taste, she looked to the confidently smiling Berry Punch. Lyra could not stifle an impressed giggle before she took a much larger gulp.

____________________________________________________________

With the night quieting the town, Peter wearily stepped into the library with a small knapsack strapped over his shoulder, his first sight being Spike as he stood on a rolling ladder placed on the right side of the room, dusting the top of the shelves. Upon hearing the doorbell upon Peter’s entrance, Spike turned to face him and smiled.

“Oh,” he greeted with slight surprise, “hi, Peter! How was…”

Spike’s words trailed off as he looked at Peter’s tired and seemingly miserable face.

“So…” groaned Peter.

“Peter!” exclaimed Spike as he dropped his duster and slid down the ladder to the floor. “Are you alright!”

“So… full.”

“Full?” the baby dragon responded, his alert and fearful expression quelled by the human’s response. “Oh, right. You must have eaten a lot of good food, huh? I’m so jealous. Anyone you liked?”

“Could you give me a second, buddy?” asked Peter as he made his way up the stairs. “I need to lie down for a second.”

Spike, tapping the ends of his fingers in apprehension, dutifully followed Peter up the winding steps.

____________________________________________________________

Twilight hummed to herself as she casually wrote a series of notes at her desk beside a recently opened book. Hearing both Peter and Spike’s footsteps come up to the room, she was broken out of her idle trance and set her things down, turning to see Peter and Spike walking in together.

“Peter?” whispered Twilight. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing to worry about,” said Spike with assurance. “He’s just got a bit of a stomachache from eating everyone’s food.”

“Oh, that’s not good,” she said matter-of-factly. “Here, let me help.”

Standing off the pillow that she sat on, she charged her horn, the aura wrapping around it and Peter. As she trotted up the stairs to her bedroom, Peter was gently lifted into the air and carried off behind her, Spike quickening his pace to follow them. Peter sighed as he was placed onto Twilight’s bed upon his side, allowing him to face the pony and the dragon by his side.

“How many applicants were there?” asked Twilight.

“About…” Peter said softly. “About four dozen.”

“So you ate forty-eight bites of food?” she asked.

“Oh, it had to be more than that. Some of the food was too good to leave at one bite. Crème is fine though. You ponies and your large stomachs.”

“You shouldn’t blame us for your overeating, Peter.”

“And what should I have done? Spit it out in front of the pony who made it?”

“I suppose not, but perhaps smaller bites next time?”

“Good thing for me, there won’t be a next time. At least, not for a while.”

“Why?” asked Spike, his hands pulling him over the top of the mattress. “Did you find your new cooks?”

“Yeah,” Peter responded. “Twilight, could you do me a favor?”

“Yes?” she responded.

“Could you help me write out my acceptance letters?”

“Oh, sure. What do you need me to say?”

“First, get the black folder out of my bag.”

Twilight nodded and charged her horn, the flap on Peter’s bag opening and the folder sliding out and floating to Twilight in her magic grasp.

“Just read off the names, and I’ll tell you which ones are in and which ones are out,” instructed Peter.

“Okay then,” responded Twilight as the papers were slid out of the folder. “First one is… Fire Frenzy.”

“He was really peppy, but I don’t think a kitchen environment his for him.”

“Reject,” whispered Twilight as she marked an X on the paper before flipping it to the back. “Next one is… Mille Feuille.”

“Oh,” Peter moaned in pleasure, “she certainly earned her name. She’s definitely going to be our dessert chef.”

“Excellent,” Twilight quietly responded as she marked a “D.C.” upon the page and sent it to the back. “Next one’s… Spic Span?”

____________________________________________________________

The next morning, Spic Span stood outside of his home, his hoof pressing a wet, sudsy towel against a glass window. Standing back down to dip his towel into the cleaner water, he turned back to the window to see Peter riding up towards his house on his bicycle, his bag wrapped around his shoulder. Upon spotting him, Spic Span froze with fear, almost as if death itself was riding towards him.

“Hey, Spic Span!” called Peter with a friendly wave.

“Oh,” the startled pony said as they both approached his mailbox, “hey, Peter? Did you already make your decision?”

“I did,” he said, pulling a rolled and sealed scroll from his bag with the name “Spic Span” written upon the back. “I was going to drop it in your mailbox and be on my way, but since you’re here, I can thank you for saving me the trouble.”

“Hahaha,” forced Spic Span with a trembling point of his hoof, “that’s a good one.”

Peter pursed his lips as he tried to transition from Spic Span’s poor attempt at a last minute butter-up.

“Well…” he spoke, finally handing the pony the paper as if there was nothing left, “here you are. Thanks for coming yesterday!”

Peter turned from the house and rode back off into town. Spic Span gulped conclusively with failure appearing as sweat on his brow. With a trembling breath, he mustered the strength to open the letter and peek at its contents.

Upon reading the first few lines, his tense body eased its way into relaxation and his nervous frown morphed into an excited smile. Continuing to read, he let out a shaky giggle, each new breath strengthening the laugh into one of tremendous victory.

“Honey?!” shouted Spic Span at the top of his lungs as he galloped into the house. “Honey!!”

Passersby stared at the residence of Spic Span with slightly frightened expressions. It wasn’t until they looked past his window and saw a mare fervently hugging him that their apprehensions turned to ones of genuine pleasant interest.

____________________________________________________________

A line of roughly a dozen chefs, both mares to stallions alike Spic Span among them, lined the inside of the Sparké kitchen in white jackets and white cloth caps with black brims like an army. Before them on the pass table were roughly four dozen different labeled dishes on plates, bowls and platters, ranging from sandwiches, appetizers, salads, soups, small and large plates, and desserts.

Walking along the other side of the pass table were Peter and Crème Fraiche, both in jackets but not the caps, eyeing both their newly hired cooks and the dishes they had prepared for them. With a final pace back and observation of the ponies before them, Peter and Crème Fraiche came to a stop at the middle of the line.

“Our first service is tomorrow night,” said Peter, “and I have been informed that Princess Celestia and Princess Luna themselves are going to be coming to experience our first dinner.”

The news struck the cooks like a bag of bricks, each of them murmuring to each other on the sudden importance of the night.

“Also,” added Peter, “my pop is being invited too, and I have no intention of disappointing him. Crème Fraiche and I have hired the eight of you because we have enough trust and faith in you and your talents so that we do not disappoint them.

“To ensure tomorrow night’s success, I would like you to take a look at the dishes that will become our regular menu. After you’ve taken a look at them, feel free to take a bite. Allow yourself to taste what you cook; familiarize yourself with it. You will also have a recipe book to take home for future reference. I want you coming back tomorrow for prepping knowing each recipe like the back of your hooves. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Chef!” the cooks all sounded of in unison.

“Fantastic. You may begin your study.”

Almost as if children looking through a toy-store window, the eight chefs bumped heads as they tried to get the best view they could. Peter nodded as he and Crème Fraiche stepped aside to give them room.

“What time do you need me back here?” she asked.

“Closer to seven,” Peter responded, already shedding his jacket. “I’m not going to expect the wait staff to need to memorize the recipes as closely as the ones making it.”

“Fair enough,” she said, pulling her own uniform off with her magic. “Once we’re done here, would you like to grab some lunch?”

“I’d love to, but I need to get back to Twilight’s to talk to my pop. How’s about once we’re done cooking the menu for the waiting staff, we can make some dinner while the ovens and stoves are still hot.”

Crème Fraiche let out a warm chuckle.

“That’s the Peter I know and love,” she said, lightly pinching Peter’s cheek with her magic.

“Alright!” he laughed as he fanned the aura away. “Alright. It’s a date.”

The two smiled warmly as they turned back to the chefs, each one now beginning to take their first morsels, struggling to compose themselves through the overwhelmingly delicious flavors.

____________________________________________________________

Peter sat in front of his laptop at Twilight’s desk that night, the screen set on Skype as his dad was called upon it. He kept his face close to the screen anticipating when he’d get to see his face again. Once his picture icon appeared, Peter smiled, ready to begin his talk.

“Hey, pop,” he greeted.

Peter was suddenly nonplused by the absence of his father’s voice. Suddenly he was greeted by a pair of eyes blown up on his screen.

“Your dad is with me,” the man on the screen said in a low voice. “Give me the money if you want to see your dad again.”

Peter could only laugh, seeing through the man’s façade instantly and recognizing who he was.

“Really?” he asked, playing along. “How much, Hans Gruber?”

The other man sighed in defeat upon looking at Peter’s piercing face and leaned back, revealing his short blonde hair, light beard, and his black tank top with the art of Boston’s first album over it. Peter laughed even harder as his minor suspicions were now confirmed.

“Jesus Christ,” he chortled. “Jake Bronson, how are you?”

“How am I?” asked Jake, genuinely surprised. “Your dad tells me you got sucked up into some weird pony land and I was about to get his ass locked away. Come on,” he cloyingly asked as he closely observed the space behind him. “I want to see this! Where are they little horsies?”

Peter smirked as he leaned his body and his head back in the chair.

“Twilight!” shouted Peter. “Spike. There’s someone else I want you to meet!”

Jake chuckled in continued disbelief as he sat back in the chair, listening to the patter of hooves as they came. Once Twilight and Spike both leapt down halfway down the top well of stairs, Jake’s laughing stopped, but his smile only grew wider as the pony and dragon came closer to the screen.

“Well,” he sighed, “I’ll be damned.”

“Twilight,” said Peter as he scooted back in his chair, “this is one of my best friends back home, Jake Bronson.”

“Wow,” said Twilight, instantly surprising Jake. “Peter had told me quite a lot about you, but I never thought we’d be able to talk in person.”

“You’re telling me,” panted Jake, watching as Spike hopped up to wave into the camera. “To think I’d actually be talking to a real life unicorn.”

“I’m actually more surprised that you’re taking this so well.”

“You know, I was scared shitless when I wasn’t getting any calls from him when I assumed he was going to be in New York, but I’m just glad I get to see his face again.”

“That’s good for you,” she said sincerely.

The noises of a person descending stairs was loudly clear behind Jake, and it wasn’t long before Patrick’s head and the rest of his body peered out into frame as he stood behind Jake.

“Ah,” Patrick said, “I see you met Peter’s new friends.”

“I got to hand it to you, Pat,” admitted Jake with a gentle shake of his head, “I think we’re both crazy together.”

“Oh, come on!” he chortled, playfully smacking Jake away from the chair and sitting down on the now empty spot. “There you are.”

“Hey, pop,” greeted Peter.

“So, you’re ready for us tomorrow night?”

“Us?” Twilight asked confusedly. “You mean Jake too?”

“Why not?” asked Jake, appearing behind Patrick and bending his body towards the camera. “Are you suddenly too good to see your old friend in the flesh again?”

“It’s not that,” said Peter nonchalantly. “I’m certain Celestia would be more than delighted to let you come too, Jake…”

“Princess Celestia,” he silently giggled.

“…but I’ll need to let her know so she can make the proper arrangements.”

“Arrangements?”

“Twilight?” he questioned, turning to her.

“Got it,” she replied, a paper and quill floating towards her, her magic aura visible for all around to see.

Stepping off and away from the screen, Jake finally looked stunned.

“Did she just…” spoke Jake. “How did she do that?”

“I’ll give you a wild hint,” Peter replied. “It’s the same reason why I’m here and how you’ll be coming to visit me.”

“I don’t know,” he responded with feigned dumbness, “magic?”

“You got it.”

“Magic? Seriously?”

“How else do you explain the purple talking unicorn?”

“…Touché.”

“Just wait with dad outside and please, bring something nicer to wear than a wife-beater.”

“Fine, I’ll wear a t-shirt. Happy?”

“Pop, you’ll make sure he dresses nice, won’t you?”

“Don’t worry,” assured Patrick. “I won’t let a bum walk into your restaurant tomorrow.”

“Hey,” Jake laughed, “relax! I packed a couple of polos!”

“That should be fine. Just try and not freak out over every little thing you see when you get there.”

“I’ve already seen your pony friend. How much more do you think there is for me to ‘freak out’ about?”

“Just prepare yourself for anything and everything.”

“Done and done.”

“I’m sorry I have to cut this short,” Peter suddenly said, “but I’ve got a really busy day to prepare for.”

“I bet you do,” Patrick said.

“I’ve got to wake up nice and early, and then I’m treating Twilight and her friends for lunch as my first official service. Warm up both the kitchen and the waiting staff, so to speak.”

“Good thinking.”

“Twilight should have sent her letter by now, so I’ll text to let you know if Jake can come, but I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

“Peter,” called Twilight from the side, “Princess Celestia just responded. She says Jake is more than welcome to come.”

“See?” he said to Jake. “You’re good to go.”

“The tension was killing me,” Jake responded in deadpan. “Either way, nighty night, dude.”

“Yes,” agreed Patrick. “You get a good night’s rest. You’ll be needing it.”

“Will do, pop. See you tomorrow.”

“Love you, son.”

“Love you too. Bye.”

Jake’s comically contorted face and moaned, “Aww,” before the call went out. Peter leaned back in his chair and looked up at the sky, reflecting fondly about the thought of being able to see his good human friend after so long.

____________________________________________________________

Inside his restaurant kitchen along with his other hard-working compatriots, Peter, now in his chef’s jacket, slammed the side of his knife on a clove of garlic, smashing it and causing the skin to break free. Tossing the skins aside, he began quickly mincing the garlic, eyeing a bowl where more minced garlic was stored. Finally satisfied with its consistency, Peter scooped the garlic into the blade of his knife and wiped it into the bowl on his thumb.

Peter took a sigh and wiped his sweaty brow upon his apron. As he picked the bowl up and carried it towards a prep table, he watched as Spic Span kneaded dough further down the line. His motions were fast and static, clearly showing signs of nervousness. With a huffing smirk, Peter set his garlic down and patted Spic Span on the shoulder, getting him to stop and look up into his smiling face.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “You got this. It’s just seven diners.”

Seeing the level of confidence and faith in his leader, he stepped away from his dough and went towards the stoves. Peter smiled as he and several others in his crew observed and accounted their pots and pans.

“Peter!” called Lyra’s voice from the main dining room. “They’re here!”

The other chefs could also hear the news and began to fret lightly as the moment of truth was soon coming upon them.

“Game faces, everyone!” called Peter as he walked backwards to the kitchen’s exit. “Game faces!”

With that, Peter quickly slipped out and into the dining room.

____________________________________________________________

Twilight, her five best pony friends, and Spike walked into the foyer, instantly greeted by the smiles of Lyra at the front, Berry Punch in the bar, and six ponies dressed in black vests and red polos. Lyra’s outfit was very similar, but her vest was laced with gold linings.

“Twilight,” greeted Lyra, “friends, we’re very happy for you to come.”

“Hey,” blurted Rainbow Dash, “when there’s free grub, you can always count me in!”

“Rainbow,” scolded Applejack, “we’re here to support Peter, not just get a free meal.”

“Thanks, Applejack,” said Twilight, “but I wouldn’t hold it against her for being excited to eat here, especially since Peter’s running the kitchen.”

“Right this way,” said Lyra as she motioned her head and body into the dining room as she walked.

Twilight and the others followed her in, being led to a long, set table with two chairs on one long side and three with a booster seat in the other. A menu was placed atop each plate, but the ponies looked far happier once they saw Peter standing beside the table.

“This is so cool!” Pinkie Pie chirped, hopping about in all directions as she took in the sights. “Can I have my birthday here so I can get a free dessert!”

“Of course,” laughed Peter. “Everyone gets free dessert on their birthday!”

“I love this place already!”

“Please,” Peter said, backing up with a gentle motion of his arms, “have a seat.”

Using her magic, Lyra pulled each of the seven seats out from under the table.

“Calling dibs on the end!” shouted Rainbow Dash, her flank already landing on the seat at the end of her statement.

“Twilight gets the other end,” reminded Rarity, as she took the center of the three seats on the long side. “After all, the restaurant is practically named after her.”

The others nodded in agreement as they sat, Spike being on the seat to Twilight’s right on the three-chaired side.

“Lyra,” bid Peter, “let’s go!”

With a smile, Peter slipped into the chaos of the kitchen.

“Break a leg, Peter!” cried Pinkie Pie. “Oh, wait,” she suddenly realized, “that’s only in theater. This isn’t a play, this is lunch! I take it back, Peter! Good luck!”

Her shouted was silenced with a gentle tapping on the shoulder from Lyra as she inquired her order.

____________________________________________________________

Peter placed the last two plates of Twilight’s order on the pass window, which were taken in the magic aura of a stallion waiter’s unicorn horn. Walking away with it and into the dining room, two other servers were handing plates of food to Twilight and her friends.

On Applejack and Rainbow Dash’s plates, respectively, were an open-faced sandwich with a portabella mushroom topped with onions and a reddish yellow sauce and a standard cheeseburger with lettuce, tomato, pickle, a patty made from what appeared to be packed hay. Rarity’s plate consisted of Peter’s ratatouille, and Fluttershy was served a colorful salad with different varieties of fresh fruit in it.

While Spike salivated over a child-sized portion of macaroni and cheese cooked in a small crock, Twilight and Pinkie Pie were served their meals: Twilight’s being Peter’s pizzoccheri, and Pinkie Pie’s being a bowl of caramelle.

“Eee!” squeaked Pinkie Pie. “They’re even shaped like candy! This is the best idea ever!”

With everyone served, most of them dug in with gusto save for Fluttershy, Rarity, and Twilight, who paced their bites and slowly savored their food. From the kitchen, Peter smiled as he could see that not one eye was opened among the ponies as they succumbed to the flavor his food had left on their tongues.

____________________________________________________________

A pair of busponies cleared the table of empty plates, bowls, and glasses on the now empty table. Both Peter and Crème Fraiche stood in the foyer of Sparké with Lyra. Twilight and her pony friends looked engorged, but satisfied for the delicious lunch they had been given.

“Peter,” said Twilight, “I can’t thank you enough for letting us come today. I know you won’t open for lunch normally, but–”

“It was no problem at all, Twilight,” interrupted Peter with a wave of his hand. “I just hope that I can continue persuading your friends to come without the promise of free food.”

“Don’t worry. Your food is totally worth it.”

With an unexpected hop off her front hooves, Twilight wrapped her arms behind Peter’s neck and pulled him close, her face squeezing lovingly into his. The others, especially Spike and Crème Fraiche, displayed touched smiles as Peter softly laid his hands over her back.

“Uh, Twilight?” said Peter. “My apron…”

Twilight pushed herself off and stood on her hind legs, only to see tomato sauce and small bits of herbs now caked on her belly. Twilight’s friends laughed as they saw the mess she had made to her stomach, and once she too saw it, Twilight set herself back down and grimaced. She then worked herself back to a joking smirk and looked back at Peter.

“I think a bath would be really nice after a meal like that anyway,” she reasoned. “Good luck tonight, Peter. I’ll see you when you get home.”

“Okay, then, Twilight,” he said.

Twilight turned and walked to the exit, allowing her friends to do the same, but not before waving and bidding Peter farewell. Peter beamed from ear to ear as a single tear fell from his eye, his friends already breaking away to their respective homes. It was then that he felt a hoof upon his shoulder, turning to see that it belonged to Crème Fraiche.

“Come on,” she advised him playfully, “you have a kitchen to clean and re-prep for tonight.”

With a jesting roll of his eyes, Peter quickly shuffled back into the kitchen, Crème Fraiche gleefully trotting in behind him.

____________________________________________________________

The afternoon sun began to set the sky ablaze with orange. Inside the Sparké dining room, candles on the tables, chandeliers on the ceiling, and a fire burning in the fireplace added some light to the restaurant as night tried to take the day away. The tables were all set and spotless, and the bar and it’s bartender were all set, not a glass or cup out of place.

The chefs in the kitchen eyed through the pass window to see a decently sized group of ponies waiting outside for the doors to officially open. The waiting staff stood along the wall, a couple letting out a few nervous gulps as their first official service was about to begin.

Lyra stood at the doors with Peter beside him, ready to make the official announcement. Turning back to the kitchen, he turned to see Crème Fraiche in the pass window, smiling and nodding in approval. He then looked to Lyra, who turned to look back at him.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Mmhm,” she said.

With decisive steps, the two of them stepped through the first set of doors together. With a turn of the lock on the front doors, Lyra and Peter both stepped out to face the crowd of ponies whose eyes were now all on them. Peter took a deep breath, hardly able to contain his excitement. In the same breath, he kept his attention to his mass of soon-to-be patrons.

“Welcome, friends,” Peter exclaimed, “to Sparké.”

Author's Note

Sparké Menu

Appetizers & Small Plates

Chips and Salsa

Fresh made corn tortilla chips and a mild tomato salsa.

Refills: +1.

Spinach and Artichoke Dip

Sauteed spinach and chopped artichokes baked in a creamy parmesan sauce. Served with pita crisps.

Artisan Bruschetta

Roasted tomatoes, green onion, garlic, and fresh basil. Served with green olive tapenade and toast points.

Dodge Caviar

Black-eyed peas and hominy with tomato, green pepper, onion, garlic, and seasoned with our house dressing. Served with tortilla chips

Hay Fries

Freshly harvested hay bundled into thin sticks and served with homemade catsup.

Parmesan & Truffle Aioli: +2

Pickle and Okra Fries

Dill pickles and sliced okra deep fried and served with a spicy dill ranch dressing.

Stuffed Mushroom Caps

Baby bellas stuffed and baked with Monterey Jack cheese and red pepper filling.

Fried Mozzarella

Mozzarella cheese breaded in seasoned panko breadcrumbs and deep fried. Served with homemade marinara.

Soups & Salads

Canterlot Onion Soup

Cup: 2 Crock: 4

Served fresh everyday. Chopped onion in a burgundy vegetable and red wine broth, topped with a large crouton and gruyere cheese.

3-Bean Jerk Chili

Cup: 3 Bowl: 5

Served fresh everyday. Black beans, navy beans, and kidney beans in a rich, spiced broth with accents of dark chocolate.

Daily Soup Special

Cup: 2 Bowl: 4

Be sure to ask your server about today's soup.

Sparké Salad

Individual: 4 Family: 7

Spinach and arugula topped with bleu cheese, our bruschetta, black olives, and our house dressing.

Caesar Salad

Romaine lettuce, homemade croutons and asiago cheese in a peppered Caesar dressing.

Add Tofu: +2

Grilled Romaine

Halved romaine heart with tomato and crisped leeks and served with a green goddess dressing.

Rainbow Salad

Wild greens mixed with bleu cheese crumbles, grapes, cranberries, blueberries, sliced yellow pears, cucumber, pomegranate dressing, and topped with toasted pecans.

Corn Cobb

Grilled corn topped over spinach, tomato, avocado, bleu cheese, crumbled hard-boiled egg, and dressed with semi-seco vinaigrette.

Add Tofu: +2

Sandwiches

All sandwiches come with a side of fresh potato chips. Substitute cup of soup or side salad for +1.

Hay Burger

An equestrian classic with a ground hay patty on a kaiser bun with romaine, grilled tomato, dill pickle, raw onion, and homemade mayo and catsup.

Black Bean Burger

Grilled black-bean patty served with apple coleslaw and rich barbecue sauce on a kaiser bun.

Veggie Burger

Flat-top vegetable patty on a focaccia bun with herb mayo, romaine lettuce, fried-onion straws, dill pickle, and homemade catsup.

Portabella Horseshoe

Portabella mushroom cap grilled and served open-faced on toasted sourdough with sauteed onions with cheddar-tomato sauce.

Tofu Villa

Minced, braised tofu patty marinated in red wine and garlic butter, topped with melted provolone and stone-ground mustard on a ciabatta bun.

Real Grilled Cheese

Cheddar, swiss, and havarti cheese between two sourdough slices and charred atop our wood grill. Served with our tomato and roasted red pepper sauce.

Pasta

Charlotte's Pizzoccheri

Buckwheat pasta with fingerling potatoes, kale, and brie in a garlic and sage butter sauce. Sparké's crown jewel.

Spaghetti Marinara

Spaghetti pasta served in homemade marinara.

Three Baby Bellas: +2

Angel Hair Aglio e Olio

Thin pasta sauteed in olive oil, seared garlic, and pepper flakes.

Pesto Linguine

Linguine pasta sauteed in a basil and pinenut sauce with cherry tomatoes, porcini mushrooms, and shaved parmesan cheese.

Wild Mushroom and Alfredo Ravioli

Created by our saute chef Spic Span, ravioli stuffed with bolete and chanterelle mushrooms and port wine in a garlic cream sauce.

Vodka Caramelle

Marscarpone cheese and chili stuffed pasta in a creamy tomato sauce.

Macaroni and Cheese Casserole

Baked macaroni and 4-cheese blend with red pepper and onion.

Entrees

All entrees come with a choice of side salad/soup, and side dish.

Crusted Portabella Medallions

Two bella mushroom caps with a bleu-cheese and horseradish crust.

Roasted Ratatouille

Sliced tomato, eggplant, zucchini, and yellow squash sauteed in tomato and roasted red pepper sauce.

Shepherd's Pie

Minced mushroom mixed with carrot, celery, and onion in a smooth tomato sauce and topped with garlic-romano mashed potatoes.

Stuffed Poblanos

Poblano peppers filled with salsa-infused rice and topped with monterey jack cheese.

Quiche Gruyere

Eggs scrambled with green onion and shredded gruyere inside a flaky crust.

Portabella Etouffee

Mushrooms, tomato, and peppers in a spicy Creole sauce and served over rice.

Sides (À La Carte)

Homemade Potato Chips

Hay Fries

Parmesan & Truffle Aioli: +2

Garlic Smashed Reds (Gravy Upon Request)

Zucchini Fries

Steamed Vegetable Medley

Grilled Asparagus

Macaroni and Cheese

Foal's Menu

Hay Burger Sliders

Two sliders in the style of our hay burger. Served with potato chips.

Spaghetti

Spaghetti in tomato sauce. Served with one baby bella.

Mini Mac and Cheese

Child-friendly macaroni and cheese casserole.

Carrot Dog

Steamed carrot between a bun with catsup and mustard.

Desserts

Simple Sundae

Single scoop of vanilla with whipped cream and hot fudge.

Sparké Sundae

Two scoops of vanilla ice cream with whipped cream, homemade caramel sauce, and sugar crusted banana halves.

Carrot Cake

Ground carrots in a cinnamon and nutmeg batter with marscarpone frosting.

Apple Bake

Apple family apples in a sugar-cinnamon syrup and flaky crust. Served with scoop of ice cream.

White Chocolate Crème Brulee

Cool chocolate custard with crusty caramelized top.

Tiramisu

Lady fingers dunked in espresso and chocolate liqueur, layered with sweetened marscapone and dusted with ground coffee.

Chapter 17: First Course

With the soft, but luring lights emanating from the newly opened restaurant, ponies from nearly every direction around the restaurant were drawn to its doors, other ponies following them too, interested by where the lights led them. From off in the distance, on a hill north of the small town, both Celestia and Luna overlooked Ponyville, giving each other a small nod as they prepared themselves for what they were about to do.

____________________________________________________________

Outside of Patrick’s home, Patrick and Jake walked outside of the front door, the latter hopping around excitedly in his t-shirt and black blazer, the former having the artwork of Led Zeppelin’s Physical Graffiti on it. Patrick settled for a red-button up shirt with khaki pants. Jake leaned forwards as they approached the street from the driveway.

“Clear!” he shouted, hopping excitedly on the asphalt.

Patrick continued to walk briskly to the street, checking himself for any oncoming traffic in the otherwise quiet and lifeless suburban street.

“Remind me not to give you any more ‘pre-dinner cocktails’ before we go out anywhere.”

“Come on,” Jake rasped jestingly, “you don’t really think that the place is going to have a bar, do you?”

“They apparently have a lot of human food on their menu. Why wouldn’t they have any booze.”

“Either way, I’m having fun tonight, without making an ass of myself in front of my old pal, of course.”

“I certainly hope so…”

The two stood closely together on the street, looking up at the cloudless night sky and the stars seemingly matted in it.

“She said to close your eyes until you’re told to open them,” Patrick instructed.

“Wait…” said Jake, turning to him. “What?”

Just then, the colors around the two began to glow brighter, as if a large light was fading in around them. Just then, Jake began to moan with discomfort, feeling a touch of weightlessness to his body.

“Calm down and just close your eyes,” spat Patrick.

As Patrick calmly relaxed his body, Jake breathed loudly and restlessly as light tried to bleed through his eyelids. The heat began to tingle their skin as a strong breeze blowing down on both of them. A loud whoosh was soon accompanied by darkness once again, leading Jake to shoot his eyes open as he found himself standing in front of Celestia and Luna themselves on the hill overlooking Ponyville. Jake gasped as both alicorns approached them, Celestia standing before Patrick and Luna before Jake.

“Please close your eyes,” Luna instructed sternly.

Jake clamped his eyes as shut as they could go. Both princesses lowered their glowing horns down on the men and gently prodding them into their chest. Both men gasped at the metallic sensation being filled into their chests, only for it to shortly end as the two princesses pulled away and stepped back.

“You can open them back up,” Celestia said.

Both Patrick and Jake looked up at the two alicorns, unable to believe their own eyes as their mouths hung open, much to the light amusement of Celestia.

“What did you two do to us?” Jake asked nervously.

“It’s to ensure you can return home after your meal so you don’t wind up stuck…” Luna tried to awkwardly explain, “like your friend.

“Huh? How the hell does that work?”

“We can talk about it on the way there,” Celestia answered. “I’m sure you’re all famished.”

“Well,” Patrick chuckled, approaching the two alicorns, “he could certainly use something in his stomach. Patrick Falwell,” he greeted with an outreached hand.

“A pleasure to finally meet you in the flesh,” Celesta giggled, cordially extending her hoof for him to shake.

“And you must be Jake, right?” Luna asked, reaching her hoof to him. “Charmed.”

“Yeah,” huffed Jake reluctantly, finding it within him to shake the alicorn’s hoof with his hand, “I guess you could say that.”

With Celestia and Patrick’s greeting finished, she stepped towards the town down the hill.

“Come,” Celestia said, stopping. “I certainly hope it’s not overly busy.”

Luna, Patrick, and Jake followed Celestia down, keeping their eye on the alien, yet old-fashioned town just up ahead.

____________________________________________________________

“Two ravioli and a horseshoe at the pass!” called Crème Fraiche as both Spic Span and a white, bulky, short-maned stallion with a carrot and a celery stalk crossed in an X brought out the respective dishes to the window.

Crème Fraiche placed the meal ticket in between the two plates of ravioli, which Peter took along with the horseshoe, placing it all on a plastic tray before scanning the plates and their contents with his eyes and finger.

“Great,” Peter sighed happily. “Service please.”

A dark-fuchsia unicorn mare in a vest and red shirt took the tray and carried it into the dining room, which was fully populated by gleeful ponies at tables as they watched the wonderful-smelling food roam by, anticipating their own meals to come. The waitress passed the bar, where Berry Punch was expertly mixing and pouring a yellow and a clear martini for a mare and her stallion companion, much to their delight.

Passing the front door to a second door to the outdoor area, where more ponies were sitting and looking outwards with shocked expressions, Celestia and Luna walked inside with Patrick and Jake, the latter two floored by what Peter had managed to create.

“Peter,” Patrick huffed. “Holy god…”

The ponies inside the restaurant now turned to see the princesses and two more humans standing there, adding a new pressure into the place. The sudden murmurings of “princesses” and “humans” in the dining room alerted Peter into looking outside, seeing Celestia and Luna themselves, along with his dad and friend.

“Oh man,” gasped Peter, feeling his legs failing to keep him up. “Oh man, oh man, oh man…”

“Peter?” Crème wondered. “What’s wrong?”

Hearing her voice, Peter shot to his feet, turning to face his staff.

“Alright, everypony!” he shouted, bringing every eye of every cook to him. “Our very special guests are here. Be prepared for me to call their order at any moment.”

At his station, Spic Span gulped nervously as he eyed back and forth between Peter and his spaghetti cooking in his pan.

“When I call their order, just remember that you’re cooking for the princesses themselves, so I want you to cook whatever they order the best you’ve ever cooked it before! Got it?”

“Yes chef!”

The cooks all spun back around, managing their dinners once again. Peter walked over towards Spic Span as he jerkily managed his pan of pasta, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. The stallion gasped and turned to him, turning back to him. Peter benignly pinched a single noodle from the pan and chewed it, quickly analyzing the flavors.

“It’s perfect,” he said to the pony. “Don’t worry, you got this.”

Stepping back towards the pass window, Spic Span followed him, the handle of the pan firmly in his mouth. Peter turned to Crème as Spic Span began to plate his dish.

“Take the kitchen for a bit,” he said. “I need to see to my guests.”

“Take as much time as you need,” Crème said with a promising nod.

Peter walked out from the door just as Spic Span delicately wiped down the rim of his plate.

“Here’s the spaghetti, chef,” he said with relief.

“Thank you,” Crème replied, lifting the plate to her face and inspecting it closely.

____________________________________________________________

“I can’t even begin to tell you how honored I am to have you here,” Lyra gushed at Celestia and Patrick. “I’m certain that Peter and the rest of the cooks will cook nothing less than their best tonight for you guys.”

“We look forward to it, Lyra,” chuckled Celestia.

“Let me show you to your table!”

Lyra floated a stack of four menus to her side and led the alicorns and humans into the dining room at a longer, open table with four seats all prepared for them. Just then, Patrick and Jake noticed Peter as he began to reach their spot. Jake let out an exalted chuckle while Patrick began to well up. Peter, as composed as he could, made his way to his approaching father. Lyra and the princesses winced with heartwarming glee as they watched the father and son hug each other.

“Peter…” rasped Patrick, fighting his breaking voice.

“Pop,” Peter replied.

Pulling himself away, Patrick looked up and down, eyeing his son in his full chef’s garb.

“Look at you,” he said. “Just… look at you.”

“Yeah,” Peter said in flustered agreement, “I know.”

“I think you should get back to the kitchen now…”

With the realization suddenly hitting him, Peter suddenly leapt backwards, weaving his way through the tables while keeping his eyes on his esteemed guests.

“Right,” Peter rambled, sorry, thank you. L… Lyra will be taking your orders!”

Patrick and Celestia chuckled as Peter strode back into the kitchen, watching as he had a brief conversation with Crème Fraiche before she returned into the kitchen.

“She’s certainly come a long way too, hasn’t she,” Celestia mused to herself.

Peter gave one more look to Celestia, Luna, Patrick and Jake as they took their seats, Lyra approaching them with a notepad and pen at the ready. His calm and appreciative smile was broken yet again by a waitress handing him yet another ticket for order. Shaking his head back into concentration, he faced the kitchen and his small group of cooks.

“Order up!” he shouted. “Two Caesar salads and a truffle-parmesan hay fry!”

“Yes, chef!” they all called back, two of the proper cooks preparing their bowls and ingredients.

Peter nodded and punched his palm, pumped by the rush the night was giving him. From the dining room, Patrick watched with pride and honor as Peter visibly took control and commanded respect from his cooks.

“And for you?” Lyra asked him.

Flopping back straight in his chair, Patrick took another quick look from the menu.

“I think we can do an order of chips and salsa for the table, can’t we?” he asked.

Looking to the others at the table, Jake nodded vigorously.

“Well,” Luna giggled, “I think we have our answer. Yes, some chips and salsa would be wonderful, Lyra.”

Lyra scribbled with happy prose as her ears twitched in anticipation for the rest of Patrick’s order.

“I think I’d like a Sparké Salad to start, and then I will have an order of Charlotte’s Pizzoccheri.”

“Excellent choice,” Lyra complimented, etching the final letters into the ticket. “I’ll go order your drinks, and then your aps should be right up.”

“That will be splendid,” assured Celestia. “Thank you, Lyra.”

“No, thank you, your majesty,” she replied with a bow.

Celestia, with no time nor mind to argue, chuckled and let Lyra walk off to the bar. Jake sat up in his table, looking up to Celestia.

“So,” he asked slowly, as if morbidly confused, “you’re a princess, and you ordered ‘hay’ fries?”

“Why?” she cloyingly responded. “Did you want to try one?”

“Actually… kinda.”

“Hmhmhm… I don’t think so.”

“Why not? What does hay taste like on your world?”

“Judging from Peter’s first reaction, probably the same as it does on yours.”

Imagining it himself, Jake squirmed back into his hardly-noticeable slump.

“I’m sure you’ll be quite happy with your selection,” Luna promised.

Jake shrugged in concurrence, just as Lyra walked by once again, a longer ticket held in her magic aura. Handing it to Peter through the pass window, he glanced over it, continually eying her as she stood by and waited.

“This is the princesses’ table?” Peter wondered.

“Yes,” Lyra confirmed. “They ordered their aps and their entrees at once.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure that they get everything in succession.”

“Awesome. You’re doing great, Peter!”

“We’re doing great,” he corrected with a wink and a click of his tongue.

Lyra bounded away from the pass window and back to the entrance. Peter breathed in tightly as he turned to his kitchen.

“Alright,” he called out, “the princesses’ table has ordered. I need one truffle-parm hay fry, chips and salsa, pickle and okra fries, two grilled romaine, one Sparké Salad, one rainbow salad, three Charlotte’s Pizzoccheri, and one crusted mushroom medallions! You have all of that?”

“Yes, chef!”

As several chefs eagerly and intensely grabbed their proper bowls and utensils, then scattering off to the walk in fridges and pantries for their ingredients, Spic Span, gulping with arresting nervousness, ran to the pantries as well.

____________________________________________________________

In the bar, Berry Punch placed a large, frosted mug filled with frothing cider onto a plastic server’s tray beside three glasses of wine, each of them a whitish-gold. With the drinks ready, Lyra grabbed the tray with her magic and carried it from the bar’s counter and into the dining room. Her eyes met with Celestia and Patrick’s, whose acknowledgements of her arrival were filled with excitement and longing for their alcohol.

“Two Cabernet-Sauvignons,” Lyra listed off, lifting two of the glasses and placing them before the two alicorn’s on the table. “One Riesling,” Lyra continued, giving Patrick the final glass. “And one hard cider,” she concluded, landing the mug on the table before Jake with a heavy thunk.

“Right on,” Jake breathed appreciatively with a snazzy point.

“Your appetizers should be out momentarily,” Lyra promised. “Enjoy yourselves.”

“You’re too kind, Lyra,” Celestia responded, bringing her glass to her lips.

The subsequently beaming Lyra giddily walked back to her welcoming booth with a spring in her step. With a slightly impatient glance to the pass window, Jake took a sip of his cider, his eyes prying themselves open as he savored the impossibly sweet and refreshing taste.

____________________________________________________________

Set from the mouth of a jade-green pegasus with dark-brown hair, a medium-sized basket of corn tortilla chips with a small bowl of thin, tomato salsa was placed on the pass window beside a similarly-sized basket filled with fried okra halves and slices of pickle surrounding a dish of herbed ranch dressing. Running back, the pegasus grabbed a metal bowl with small, thin hay bundles dressed with parmesan cheese and parsley, tossing them before dumping them onto a plate.

“Almost done on those fries?” called Peter.

“Yss, chff!” the pegasus responded, ladling a creamy sauce from a small metal can into another small dish.

“Please don’t talk with your mouth full!”

The pegasus placed his ladle aside and carried the plate and dish out to the pass with his mouth, Peter taking it from him as the pegasus stood obediently.

“Yes, chef!” he responded. “Sorry, chef.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Peter calmly said as he handed the other plates to Lyra through the window. “Just be more mindful next time.”

“Yes… chef.”

“Good.”

Peter then turned back as Lyra made her way off with the three plates on a plastic tray, carrying them straight to the expectant Jake, Celestia, Luna, and Patrick. With a confirming nod, Peter turned back to his kitchen.

“Garden Fresh,” Peter called back to a fuchsia unicorn mare with a netted brown mane, “how are the salads coming?”

“Just give me five more minutes!” she called back.

“Good job! Spic Span, you got those pizzoccheri in the oven?”

“Uh…” Spic Span stammered, standing before an oven, “yes chef!”

“Awesome! Keep it up everyone! First night is always the worst!”

Spic Span jerked himself back to the window of the oven, watching the three small crocks of pasta inside, the cheese barely beginning to melt.

“Come on…” the sweating stallion whimpered, tapping on the oven’s door handle.

____________________________________________________________

Jake’s fingers pinched three pickle chips as he scooped ranch out from the disk in the basket. Inserting the food and the fingers in his mouth, Jake tenderly closed his lips around the tips, cleaning his fingers of any excess dressing. Patrick and Luna, along with a couple well-dressed ponies nearby them, looked at him with slight disdain while Celestia merely chuckled in amusement.

“Dear lord,” Jake grunted. “This is amaze-balls!”

“You’re quite hungry, aren’t you?” humored Celestia.

“Oh yeah. Humans tend to be this hungry when have drinks.”

The princess continued to laugh, much to Luna’s bemusement.

“Sister,” Luna hissed.

“Relax,” Celestia said, lifting a sauce-covered hay fry to her mouth. “I think we can admit that the food is very good…”

Celestia threw the fry into her mouth, some of the sauce having dripped onto her lower lip. With an quaint slurp, she lapped it from her lips, earning more unsavory looks from Luna, and to a lesser extent, Patrick.

“And I think we can admit that we are very hungry,” Celestia concluded.

Patrick shrugged in relenting agreement, grabbing a tortilla chip from his basket and scooping some salsa from the bowl with it. Luna too grabbed a hay fry and dipped it in the truffle aioli. Both of them took their bites at the same time, smiling with pleasure once the food hit their tongues.

____________________________________________________________

Four salads, two of which were Peter’s grilled romaine, another with brightly-colored fruits vegetables like a rainbow, and a final one with blue-cheese, olives, and bruschetta over spinach, were lifted by Garden Fresh to the pass to Peter, allowing him and Lyra to examine them over once more.

“Perfect,” Peter said. “Service please.”

Lyra took all four plates and placed them on a tray, carrying them out to Celestia and Patrick’s table. Peter smiled through the pass window as he saw all four of his guests happily look upon the arrival of their next course.

“Sorry,” Spic Span mumbled from the back of the kitchen. “Pardon me…”

Peter turned around, his eyes widening with horror as the earth pony walked towards Peter and the pass window on his back hooves, a crock carrying the pizzoccheri on a hot-pad on each hoof.

“Spic Span!” shouted Peter. “What the hell are you doing?”

His body freezing up at Peter’s voice, the two crocks sliding off the pads and falling to the floor. The resulting crash and cracks of the crocks hitting the floor alerted everyone, and when they saw Spic Span at the center of the spilled pasta and pierces of porcelain, Spic Span trembled frantically, his limbs hardly able to support himself. Peter breathed in heavily, trying to compose himself the best that he could, turned to Crème Fraiche, who approached him from the side of the kitchen.

“Crème,” Peter spoke in a hushed tone. “Please take control of the pasta line and the rest of the kitchen for a second for me.”

“Uh…” Crème stuttered, frightful of what would inevitably transpire. “Yes… chef.”

Peter walked towards the back, shooting a commanding glare at Spic Span. It seemed to do the trick, as Spic shamefully walked behind Peter to the back of the kitchen towards a walk-in freezer. The other cooks stared at the two of them, wanting the best view for their confrontation.

“What are you waiting for?” shouted Crème Fraiche. “Do you want him to yell at you next?”

With her voice shooting fear down their spines, the cooks went back into their routines as normal. In the back, Peter opened the door to the walk-in, where paper cartons of ice cream sat on metal racks. Motioning Spic Span in, the pony walked in, allowing Peter to come in and close the door behind him.

“Alright,” Peter said to the calmest of his ability, “what happened back there?”

“I’m sorry, chef!” Spic Span said with a submissive bow. “I put in the pizzoccheris too early! I didn’t want them to burn, but I didn’t want them to go to waste either!”

“Then you make another batch, Spic Span. That, or you take them out and wait until the timing’s right!”

“I’m sorry! It was too late when I realized my mistake, and I should have told you that we ran out of the grappa liqueur for the pasta!”

“Wait… so, we ran out of a key ingredient and you didn’t tell Crème or I?”

“I felt so bogged down, and so many of them were being ordered, and I put it at the back of my mind!”

Peter managed to put his hand over his mouth while pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Is the third pizzoccheri still in the oven?” asked Peter.

“Yes!” Spic Span barked quickly.

“Give me a second, then.”

Peter stepped out of the walk in, his door propping the door open.

“Crème!” shouted Peter, making her head peer around a corner. “Did you take that last pizzoccherri out of the oven?”

“Yes!” she called back.

“Keep it under a lamp until I decide what to do with it. Also, if you can, tell the wait staff that we have run out of pizzoccheri!”

“Yes, chef!”

With a nod, Peter stepped back into the walk-in and closed the door.

“If you want to fire me,” Spic Span said, “I completely understand.”

Peter sighed at the pathetic sight of the blubbering mess of pony that sat before him. Kneeling down, he gently put his hands on the pony’s shoulders, allowing him to look into Peter’s eyes.

“Listen,” Peter said. “I took care of it already, and I’m sure if I told my pop and the princesses that there was a small accident in the kitchen, they’d be completely cool with it.”

“You… think?”

“I know.”

Spic Span still began to tilt his head down, still ashamed of his actions.

“Spic Span,” he said, “when I gave out my acceptance letters, do you know how many other chefs I had to turn down in the end?”

“No…” he responded.

“About fifty,” he said. “You were one of the lucky few I put my trust in because I saw and tasted your potential. Now, before we step back into that kitchen, I want you to take a deep breath, and I want you to be the cook that I hired and that I know you can be, alright?”

Spic Span looked to Peter with wonder, but once Peter held his hand up and raised it, the pony took a steady breath, already feeling life reenter his veins.

“Ready?” he asked.

Spic Span gave out a smile and nodded.

“Yes, chef,” he said.

“Good. Please make me three of your ravioli. I’m certain it will be just as good a substitute.”

With Peter opening the door back up, Spic Span burst out from it. Crème Fraiche, seeing his feverous approach, stepped aside from the pasta station and gave him control once again. Peter then walked up to the pass, looking to the set-aside pizzoccheri.

“Mediallions, chef!” called the rasped female voice of a grey earth pony with jet black hair, her dish brought to the pass.

“Thank you,” Peter said, then turning to awaiting Lyra. “Bring out the pizzocherri,” he told her. “Tell them there was an accident and we could only salvage one. I’m bringing out the pasta chef’s own signature dish as a compensation.”

“I also told her about running out of the pizzoccheri,” Crème Fraiche butted in.

“Excellent. You got that Lyra?”

“No problem,” Lyra answered, grabbing the plate of mushrooms and crock of pasta.

Peter watched with scrutiny as Lyra handed Jake his mushroom plate beside his cleared salad plate. As she placed the one pizzoccheri at the table, the three others at the table looked rightfully confused, making Peter visibly uneasy. As Lyra explained everything, the expressions of Patrick and the princesses softened into smiles, clearly forgiving towards the situation. Peter sighed, turning back to Spic Span working hard at his stovetop.

“How much longer on the ravioli?” asked Peter.

“Just five minutes, chef!” Spic Span confidently called out.

“Alright,” Peter breathed, now able to comfortably oversee the rest of his kitchen.

With a glance back, Peter watched as Patrick, Celestia, and Luna took their first bites from the shared crock. Patrick looked back to the window, setting his eyes and unquestionable smile at his son, raising a hand with pinched fingers up as thanks. Peter turned back to his kitchen, pumping his fist and elbow back in celebration.

____________________________________________________________

With the night growing later and darker, the dining room was already less than a quarter full, most ponies choosing to sit at the bar and enjoy a late drink. With the bus-ponies clearing the plates from Celestia and Patrick’s table with a hefty piles of golden bits sitting at beside the check, Peter stood before Celestia, Luna, Patrick, and Jake, the latter leaning against a chair.

“Thank you so much for letting us come,” Celestia said to Peter. “The dinner was delicious.”

“And that ravioli you brought out for us was really good!” Patrick said.

“Thanks,” Peter said, “but in all honesty, I wasn’t the one who made it.”

“Was it Crème?” Luna asked.

“Actually, why don’t I bring him out?”

Peter turned his head to the pass window where Crème was waiting for any and all future orders.

“Crème!” he called. “Bring out Spic Span!”

With a nod, Crème ventured forth into the kitchen.

“Be careful,” Peter warned. “He’s a touch sensitive.”

A few moments later, Spic Span crept out from the kitchen door and into the dining room, his legs looking heavier to carry as he tried to approach the princesses.

“You…” he stammered, forcing a bow before her presence, “Your majesty…”

“You were the one that cooked the mushroom ravioli?” Celestia asked.

“I… Yes, I… I was.”

“I have to say, sir, excellent job!”

Hearing her words, his legs suddenly felt as light as a feather and his smile was bright as the sun.

“Thank you so much, Princess!”

“Please,” she chuckled, “you call me Celestia.”

“Yes, your… Celestia!”

Luna, Patrick, and Jake joined Celestia in laughs, the former human approaching him.

“Very good on that,” Patrick said. “I assume you also made that pizzoccheri?”

“Yes, sir?” the pony answered.

Patrick smiled looking back up to Peter.

“You’re lucky to have found him,” Patrick said. “Some of the best pasta I’ve ever had.”

Spic Span’s gaze softened as his ears drooped in sheer humility.

“You know how to get to Twilight’s?” asked Peter.

“Of course,” Celestia answered. “We’ve been there once or twice before.”

“And you’re totally fine just giving us all that money?” Jake asked.

“Like I’m going to need it here anymore,” Peter chuckled.

“Right, right…”

Peter and Jake approached each other and gave each other a firm quick hug before stepping back away.

“Take care, man,” Jake said.

Peter than turned to Patrick, and after a brief, but awkward standstill, the two approached each other and gave one tight, final hug.

“I can’t even begin to tell you how proud I am of you,” Patrick said.

“Pop,” Peter giggled, “I know.”

With a couple pats on the back, Patrick rejoined Celestia’s side.

“You two are always welcome to visit again,” Celestia said. “Just say the word and we’ll let it happen.”

“Looking forward to it,” Patrick said. “Get back to work, Peter.”

“You know it, Pop,” Peter replied with a salute.

With a light conversation, Celestia, Patrick, Luna, and Jake walked to the exit, where the exhausted, but gracious Lyra awaited them.

“Have a good night,” she said. “Please do come again!”

Peter, knowing there was nothing left to say or do, walked back into the kitchen, Spic Span eager to join his side.

____________________________________________________________

Peter stumbled into the library with aching feet and his chefs jacket open, revealing his white, sweaty tank top. He continued up the stairs from the library, sliding his jacket off and grabbing hold of it as he made it to Twilight’s study. As he made his way to the next stairs, he let the jacket slip from his fingers and go to the floor. Once he took the first creaky step up the next flight, he lowered his body slowly down onto his back and seemingly passed out right then and there, an ecstatic smile upon his face.

Twilight’s shadow peered over the edge of the banister to her bedroom, seeing Peter lying calmly there. Smiling happily at his visibly gladsome expression, she charged her magic horn, lifting both him and his discarded jacket from the floor. As he continued to rise, Twilight’s magic pulled his black pants and tank top off, leaving him in his underwear and black socks, throwing the dirty clothes beside her bed, she floated a clean large t-shirt and a clean pair of sweatpants, unfolding them and slipping them onto Peter’s body.

Walking back to her bed, Peter continued to sleep as his body was gently pulled in and down onto Twilight’s bed. As if by instinct, he rolled his body onto his side, facing the empty half where Twilight plopped herself down. As her magic disappeared off of Peter, her magic lifted a large comforter over the two of them. Scooting in, she lovingly pecked Peter’s forehead, placing her arm over his and around his back.

“I’m so proud of you, Peter…” she whispered as her eyes closed.

Surrendering to sleep, her magic aura vanished around her horn, allowing the covers to flutter down, covering them both in its warmth.

Chapter 18: Perfectly Aged

Peter and Twilight ran through the Canterlot hallways, giggling in merriment as they chased and weaved around each other. Turning each corner, they cared little for whoever would be rounding the bend on the other side, resulting in several near-misses with an unfortunate guard that would be forced to leap back and away to avoid the two children from hitting them. In their excitement, they didn’t notice as Princess Celestia walked down the middle of another hallway, Peter and Twilight set to crash right into her.

Celestia let out a mild smile as she charged her horn, producing a thin wall of magic aura about three feet from where she stood. Seeing the bright obstacle appear directly in front of them, though knowing exactly what it was, Peter and Twilight squealed as they dove at the wall, which caught them safe and sound like a soft net. Peter and Celestia’s mad laughter didn’t stop as Celestia’s magic straightened itself back out and slid the two out and back to their feet and hooves.

“It’s good to see you two having fun,” Celestia said warmly, “though my guards would probably wish that you be more careful. Wouldn’t want to hurt each other now.”

“Sorry, Princess Celestia,” Twilight panted, winded from her rush, “but yes, Peter and I are having lots of fun!”

Celestia blew a visibly nervous breath, something that lowered the joy Peter and Celestia felt almost immediately.

“Peter, Twilight, could you please follow me?” she asked, turning back around from where she came.

“Uh, sure, Celestia,” Peter responded, his feet moving to follow her. “Where are we going?”

“There’s something that I wish to show you, Peter.”

“Show Peter?” Twilight wondered, her concern billowing. “Why am I needed then?”

“I would prefer that you be with him for this. It is very important.”

Peter and Twilight could only look at each other. While the somberness of Celestia’s request was troubling in and of itself, if it was important as she claimed it was, then they had little other choice than to follow her. Finally, Celestia turned to enter a chamber, a soft blue light shining through the crack of the slightly ajar door. Pulling it open, she kept it open for Peter and Twilight to walk through with her.

As Celestia stepped aside to the left to unveil what she wished to show them, Twilight looked upon the light’s source with amazement and intrigue, while Peter’s face reflected an almost mournful realization. Spinning suspended in between the ceiling and floor in the center of the room was a magically-projected image of a blue planet with several landmasses that Peter stared at as they rotated around. Upon spotting the continents of North and South America coming in from the left, Peter gazed onto the face of the planet as he recognized what it was, walking to follow it before letting it spin by.

“Peter,” Celestia cooed softly, but sympathetically, “is this the planet where you come from?”

Twilight let out a small gasp upon the uttering of this question, Peter backing away to join her side as he got a fuller view of the planet he did indeed once call home.

“I…” Peter could only whisper, looking back between Twilight and Celestia. “How did you…”

“It wasn’t easy,” the princess answered, pacing her way toward him, “but when we first met upon your arrival on our world, I assured you that I would look for it, and I never stopped until I would. Of the planets I was able to find, this one appeared the most similar to our own; green lands, blue oceans, all the signs that one could possibly live and thrive on it.”

As the home where his land was came around once again, Peter’s breathing began to deepen, overwhelmed with a flurry of emotions that informed him of so much instantaneously.

“So…” Twilight awkwardly butted in, “which land is yours?”

Twilight was fully aware of what Peter could possibly be thinking in this moment and what it would ultimately mean for them, but it was the only thing she felt she could ask him in that moment. Before it could turn away from them, Peter pointed up at North America, walking to follow it.

“That one,” he said. “That’s where I come from!”

With a glow of her horn, Celestia spun the planet quicker and brought it to a stop so that the continent could be clearly seen by the three of them. The planet then zoomed out until the whole of North America was pressed against a flat, invisible surface that shifted back to the wall to be even more visible.

“Now, which part of this country are you from?” Celestia asked.

Peter began to blink, the borders of countries, states, and provinces leaving him feeling lost and confused.

“I…” Peter whined. “I can’t tell! Can’t you…”

“Peter,” Twilight spoke in, “we can’t possibly have any maps of your world to know which city or part of the country you live in.”

“But… how am I…”

“I would like to you to give me your best attempt at a guess,” Celestia advised. “With any luck, your home should not be too far away that you can’t be found and returned without much issue.”

Suddenly, the word was spoken, and upon its echo lingering inside the chamber along with the rest of the statement, it finally dawned on Peter what was going to happen to him.

“Returned…” he whispered. “That means… I’m…”

“Going home at last,” Celestia breathed, adding as much extra comfort to the conclusion as her voice could allow. “You’ll finally be reunited with your father and be under his roof in your own bed once again. You won’t have to worry about being stuck here anymore.”

“But…” he whimpered, backing away. “Here… This is my home.”

“Peter, your home is with your own family and your own friends–”

“You’re my friends and family!” he suddenly barked, making the two ponies recoil. “Why’d you even try looking for my home? Don’t you know I’m happy here!?”

“Peter,” Celestia croaked, a hoof over her hurt heart, “please don’t be upset. I just thought–”

“Shut up!! I’m not going to get taken from my home again! Never ever!”

With a wild and forceful spin, Peter turned to the doors and charged himself through them, sprinting down the halls as fast as his legs could carry him. He only got a few paces in before a flash of light burst in front of him, Celestia standing in the middle of the hallway with her wings flared open to prevent him from passing.

“Peter, please!” she begged. “We should talk about this!”

“There’s nothing to talk about!” Peter shouted, turning back toward where he came. “I’m staying and that’s final!”

With only another step in the other direction, he stopped to find Twilight standing across from him in the same position as her teacher on the other side.

“Peter,” she began to cry, “I don’t like seeing you upset, so please, calm down!”

“I AM CALM!” he shrieked again. “Now, out of my way!”

Peter charged to run around Twilight, the rage-contorted face of her friend making her tears stream down her face. With a clench of her eyes, she charged her horn with her own magic, Peter too blinded by his emotions to notice. When an explosion of light erupted from her horn, Peter felt himself launched off his feet as Twilight’s magic exerted its bright force around him, filling his vision.

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Peter felt his body jolt as if he was suddenly dropped and then softly caught. His eyes shot open as he stared at the cloth canopy above the bed. With his muscles having tensed up with the sensation of his awakening, Peter relaxed himself back down, feeling himself nearly sink back into the mattress. Looking to the other half of the bed, he saw Twilight with the back of her head against her pillow, the rest of her body underneath her covers as she slept soundly and blissfully unaware of Peter’s consciousness.

Peter laid back flat on his pillow as well, hoping he’d soon fall under until morning as intended. As he gently pulled the folds of the back of his shirt from underneath him, loosening it, he suddenly felt the deeply unpleasant sensation of a dry throat as he tried to instinctively swallow. Carefully turning to his nightstand, he grimaced to find the glass cup sitting upon it, devoid of even the slightest bit of moisture.

With a begrudgingly accepting breath, he deliberately slid his legs toward the edge of the mattress until the backs of his knees hung over. Sitting up, he moved his bare feet down and winced as silently as he could upon touching the cold crystal floors. Tapping his toes around, they were finally blessed with the soft sensation of the lining of his slippers, stepping upon them until he was able to push both of his feet in.

Gently folding the covers off of himself, he kept his eyes on Twilight as he stood up from the bed, balling his toes to fill his shoes as much as he could. With smooth steps rolling along with the soles, Peter made his way through the tall, spacious bedroom to the slightly ajar door, where he’d be able to make a less careful stride toward the kitchen sink where he’d be able to adequately quench his thirst until morning.

Upon stepping through and leaving the doorway as wide open as he found it, he took faster steps through the castle halls and ensuring that the smacking and clacking of the backs of his slippers made little enough noise as not to wake Twilight. Upon reaching the kitchen, he went to the cupboard and opened it. Before the tips of his fingers could even touch a single glass, a voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Peter!” Twilight hissed. “What’s going on?”

Peter turned around, seeing the alicorn with the disheveled mane standing in the entryway. The sight of her made him slouch in disappointment, his attempts to keep from disturbing her revealing themselves to be unsuccessful.

“I’m sorry, Twi,” he whispered right back, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Is everything alright?” she asked in a softer voice, stepping into the room.

“Yeah, I… was just a bit thirsty, so I wanted to get some more water. I tried being quiet walking down the hallway, and–”

“To be honest, I woke up…. probably when you did. I was worried that you were nervous about today.”

“Oh no,” he replied with a shake of his head. “Just another day over at Sparké, no big deal, right?”

“If you want to look at it like that, sure, but I know today’s… not just another day at Sparké, and I want to be sure you’re up for it.”

“Oh yeah, totally.” That’s when the thought hit him. “What time even is it?”

“I took a peek at your phone, and it said 3:12.”

Peter very subtly nodded, contemplating now whether it was best to stay up or get the last couple more hours he felt like he’d have before he’d want to make breakfast.

“Thanks a lot, Twi,” he said back. “I’ll be back to bed in a little bit.”

Twilight smiled softly, something Peter could even see in the faint moonlight through the windows. She then walked up to him so that her hooves were near the tips of his toes, making her tilt her head back to look up into his eyes.

“Twilight,” Peter spoke in normal volume, “what are you–”

Twilight hopped off her front hooves and slid them over Peter’s shoulders and across his back. Her wings then unfurled in a rustled whoosh before they enveloped the rest of his backside. Feeling the warmth of both her fur and her ever-loving support on his chest and stomach, Peter relaxed his arms as he moved his hands to rest upon Twilight’s back.

“Five years,” she said, resting her head against his shoulder. “Can you believe it’s already been five years?”

As much as he wanted to keep his anxiety of the day a secret from her and anyone else, the weight and pressure of everything the day ahead presented to him, what it meant, and what it took to get him here suddenly oppressed him all at once.

Nestling the side of his head against hers as he held her tighter, he responded, “No… No I can’t…”

And with his admittance, he closed his eyes as he let his tears flow. A turbulent life of heartbreak, homesickness, and a dream to be realized had brought him here and given him everything he ever hoped for. The alicorn that he held and wept onto was all but a symbol of this, and he would never let go again.

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Peter left the massive tree-shaped castle, nearly skipping down the steps and toward his bike parked on its kickstand at the foot of them. Twilight saw him out and watched from the entryway as he mounted the seat and checked his tires before swinging the kickstand up and back. As he pushed off the ground and began to roll away, he swung back and gave Twilight a wide farewell wave before turning back to focus on the pedestrians ahead. Twilight leaned against the jamb of the door as she watched him get smaller and smaller off into the distance.

Peter stayed primarily just to the left of the right side of the road, passing the ponies casually strolling through their days. Whether it be the occasion or a random thought that popped into his head, Peter felt a sigh of contentment fill his lungs knowing that he no longer had to face the odd stares of the ponies that he got when he first made his home in Ponyville. He was as much one of them as a human could ever be, and such a wonderful conclusion allowed him to breath out and let happiness flood his mind.

Rounding another bend, he found Sugarcube Corner just coming up, prompting him to stop pedaling and simply coast the rest of the way there. Nearing the front steps, he swung his leg back and around and landed upon the ground, brought to a mild jog until he could slow the bike and himself to the entrance to where he’d get his breakfast. Leaning the bike against the gingerbread railing, he strolled up to the door and virtually wafted himself through like a gentle breeze. While there were people sitting in the café section with drinks and something to eat, Peter was incredibly confused to not find a soul behind the counter.

“Pinkie?” he softly called out, not wanting to come off as demanding. “Mrs. Cake? Mr. Cake? Uh…”

“Surprise!”

Suddenly, Pinkie Pie and the Cakes burst out from behind the counter in a burst of confetti and ribbons. The pink curly-maned mare between them put down a large vanilla cupcake the size of Peter’s fists closed together with sparkler-pinwheels dug into its black frosting. Set behind and in between the pinwheels was a paper toque that somehow managed to not catch fire. Peter could only stand frozen in shock until the lights of the sparklers fizzled out and Pinkie Pie removed them.

“So how’s that to wake you up in the mornin’?” Applejack’s voice questioned from behind Peter.

Turning around, Peter saw as Applejack was followed inside the eatery by Rainbow Dash, Rarity, and Fluttershy, who joined him on both sides.

“Sur…” Peter trailed off before chuckling to himself, embarrassed that it took him this long to figure it out. “Oh, guys, Pinkie Pie, you shouldn’t have…”

“Of course we should!” Pinkie Pie squealed, hopping over the counter to join her other friends. “It’s our favorite human’s restaurant’s birthday, pretty much! And birthdays deserve cake!”

Pinkie Pie shoved the cupcake into Peter’s hands, allowing him to inspect it further. Sure enough, behind the translucent wrapper, sprinkles were arranged to form a simple smiling face. With a heartfelt giggle, Peter could now see himself with his vanilla-batter face, black frosting hair, and the toque to top it all off. Letting out a shakier breath, Peter placed the cupcake onto a nearby table and faced his five present friends.

“Guys, thank you so much!” he spoke just above a whisper. “I could hardly think this day would be more special than it is right now.”

“No need to thank us,” Rarity guffawed. “You deserve every bit of happiness today brings you!”

As the ponies approached him, Peter knelt down and held his arms out wide, inviting each of his friends to fill the space between them and hug him tightly. With the five of them all gathered, Peter put his arms around as many of them as they would allow, nuzzling close as he savored this moment as per Rarity’s wish.

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Peter and Twilight held each other as they bawled, Princess Celestia standing idly by as she gave the boy all the time he could possibly need.

“Why can’t I stay?!” he screamed. “Why do I have to leave you guys?”

“Peter…” Celestia whimpered with a sniffle, unable to stop a tear from rolling down her cheek, “please know that I never wanted any of this for you. As much as I wish you could continue to live with your father on your own world, you ended up here. And don’t ever think that we wouldn’t be heartbroken if you left, but you know, deep down, that you don’t belong here. You belong with your father, who is more than likely devastated with the fact that he will never see you again… Please Peter, don’t let that fact become reality. Your father must miss you daily, and all he wants is you back.”

“What… what if he forgot about me?”

“Peter,” Twilight growled, suddenly furious as her body tensed up. “Don’t you ever say something like that! Do you think Celestia or I would forget you after a year? Or even 2? 3? 10?!”

Peter felt scared to answer, but Celestia, knowing what his stubborn silence meant, approached him and got down onto her shins and stomach to lower herself to his level.

“Whether you live in the same castle as Twilight and I or in your bedroom so many worlds away,” she said, “never think that we won’t love you less than we do right now. I know that you will not forget us nor love us less either.”

Just then, the chamber doors came open, Crème Fraiche the only pony walking between the gaps. Upon seeing Peter huddled with Twilight and Celestia, his shirt drenched in his snot and tears, the mare galloped to them and slid to a stop before them.

“No,” Peter blubbered, turning away, “not you too…”

“Oh, Peter!” she gasped, gently petting his hair with her hoof. “Whatever is the matter? Celestia, is this over why you have called me?”

Celestia nodded to her, answering. “After many days of looking, it appears I have managed to locate Peter’s homeworld and am now able to send him back. However… he doesn’t wish to return.”

Crème Fraiche’s mouth hung open in stunned silence, looking back down on Peter who looked close to being physically and emotionally drained of all his energy. Now, her strokes were far more tender and sympathetic.

“Peter…” she sweetly spoke. “I’m so sorry for you. To be taken from your home at such a young age and then having to go back just when you make another home here.”

“But I don’t… I can’t go back…” Peter rasped. “I just don’t think I could take it.”

“Peter? Listen to me.” Peter looked up into her eyes, cowed by the sympathetic voice which now held a stern air. “As hard as this is for you, I can tell you with absolute certainty that you, in fact, can go back and that you can take it. You took it when you came here, and not only will you take it when you go back, you’ll realize how badly you wanted to go back once you’re back in the arms of your father once again!”

Celestia smiled and nodded, glad to know that her chef of all ponies would know just what to say. However, Peter’s lack of a bettered demeanor brought her face back to one of complete neutrality.

“I’ve told you about my mom, right?” he asked them all. “Well, how I never really knew her, but… I always wondered what it would be like to have a mom and wished I knew what it would be like. Celestia… Crème… you two are the closest thing to moms as I could have…

“And you, Twilight,” he continued, sparking interest in the filly. “I don’t have any brothers or sisters back home, but… as far as I’m concerned, you’re the best sister any kid could ever dream of having!”

“Oh, Peter!” Twilight sadly gurgled, throwing herself back onto him. “I feel the same way!”

“Twilight, please!” Celestia gently exclaimed. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be!”

“Do you see now?” Petered wailed. “You’re all as much family to me as my dad is, and nothing you can say will change my mind!”

“Peter, of course not! I could never deny what you feel towards us, just as neither of us can deny how we feel toward you, but you must understand, neither Crème Fraiche or I could ever fill the role of your parent the same way your father could. And as close you and Twilight are to each other, she could never be the sibling you ever had. And I could never feel any happiness or pride knowing that I could have returned a child to his father and failed to do so. Do you know what would make me happy? More than anything at this moment, Peter?”

“…What?”

“I want you to continue being the person you’ve always been on your own world. I want you to make friends that you could consider as close to you as Twilight is. I want nothing more than to know that your father wakes up thankful that the son he loves so very much is back in his life and will never leave. And I also want you to excel and thrive at whichever passion you choose to pursue, just as Crème taught you. Know that whatever you do when you return home, we will always be right here every step of the way.”

Celestia placed her hoof over Peter’s heart, causing him to gently hold it in his hands before hugging it back close to his chest, grunting and moaning as the acceptance of his situation began to invade his thoughts.

“You are such a good boy, Peter,” Crème squeaked, tears beginning to stream down once again. “Your father and whatever friends you make could only be so lucky to have you in their lives.”

Celestia and Crème Fraiche scooted closer to the boy and joined Twilight in smothering him with their affection for what they knew would be among the final times they would ever do so, a chorus of sniffles and sobs bouncing off the halls of the chamber. With Twilight’s face and stomach squeezed against Peter’s she was more than content to be where she was right now, savoring every moment that she had left.

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Peter approached Sparké, which looked as glorious and pristine as the night he first opened its doors to Ponyville. Standing near the front entrance was Crème Fraiche and Lyra, who brightened up upon seeing him ride closer. Swinging himself back off his bike and walking it up toward them, Peter brought the kickstand down and fished through his pants pocket for his keys before parking it on the grass.

“Morning ladies!” Peter greeted.

“And a very good morning to you,” Crème Fraiche replied, “and of course, congratulations!”

“Aw, thank you, Crème!”

Peter approached the two ponies, and with them standing on their hind legs, they put their arms around his body to give him his third hug of the day. Setting themselves back down, they joined Peter on either side and walked to the front door, the right key already pinched in between his fingers.

“So,” Lyra chirped, “what’ve you got planned for today? Some new menu items? A special of some kind?”

“I’ve…” Peter coyly teased, “got some ideas.”

Peter put the key into the lock and turned it before pulling the door open to allow Crème Fraiche and Lyra to enter. With them inside, Peter went in himself before pushing it closed and locking it from the inside.

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The team of cooks were busy preparing all the ingredients that they expected to use for today. Despite the chaotic cacophony of knife blades knocking against the cutting boards, whisks clinging against metal bowls, and the crinkling of garlic skins getting peeled off the clove, the chefs appeared to be in complete tandem with one another; a culinary ballet. Peter was among them, working with Crème Fraiche as they pulled yet another sheet of fresh buckwheat pasta from the roller to be made into Sparké’s signature dish. Spic Span was off to the side, cutting small cubes of brie which would go into the pizzocheri with the pasta. Suddenly, Lyra came through the door, making a beeline for Peter and Crème Fraiche. Peter stood up to attention as his maître d stepped up to him.

“Is he here?” Peter asked.

Lyra nodded, prompting Peter to follow her out toward the kitchen doors.

“You got the rest?” Peter called to his sous chef.

“Yes, chef!” she barked back.

Lyra pushed the doors open with her magic as Peter briskly walked through the dining room, already smiling to find the man standing near the entrance waiting for him. Smiling back at him was Patrick, already dressed in a pristine chef’s jacket and black pants. Despite the amount of time that had passed for the proud father, it didn’t appear to affect his aging in the slightest, an after effect of the pride and comfort he took in his son being where he was meant to. Patrick threw his arms open and invited Peter for a hug, which he did with gusto.

“Five years,” Patrick grunted through his son’s viselike grip, “can you fuckin’ believe it?”

“Twilight asked me the same thing this morning,” Peter laugh-sobbed as they final let go to face each other again, “and no, I still can’t!”

“So? Are you going to introduce me to your crew?”

“Yep. Follow me! Thank you, Lyra!”

“Anytime, Peter!” the mint-green mare exclaimed with a wave.

Together, Peter and Patrick walked back toward the kitchen, Peter throwing the doors open loud enough to let them call his staff attention for him. Immediately, most of the cooks stopped what they were doing and awaited for their chef to speak to them, while the others finished whatever dire preparations they still needed to do before standing as steadfast as their fellow cooks.

“May I have your attention please!” Peter shouted out. “For those of you still somewhat new to the Sparké crew, I’d like to introduce you to the greatest man you’ll ever meet.”

“Second to my son, of course!” Patrick quipped, earning a few heartfelt chuckles.

“As you can imagine from that, this man is my pop, Patrick Falwell. For the most part,” he said, glancing to Crème Fraiche which she acknowledged with a wink, “this man taught me everything there is to know about the culinary arts. I dare say that if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be standing here before you today.

“The reason he’s standing beside me right now is that he’s going to serving as co-sous chef alongside Crème for tonight’s service. I want you all to treat him with the same level of respect that you’d give to either Crème or I? Is that clear?”

“Yes, chef!” Peter’s cooks yelled back.

“Excellent. Do right by him, and he’ll pay you back in full… with interest! I mean… seriously… Sparké is having its fifth anniversary tonight, and without the efforts of… him, Crème Fraiche… all of you here… the princesses… and all my other friends on both this world and the one I came from…”

Peter blinked, feeling a small stream running from his eyelids and down his cheek. As he wiped his face with his hands, the cooks all smiled proudly, knowing just how much they were valued.

“Sorry,” Peter breathed out before taking a deep breath in. “Without you all, this dream of mind could have never been realized. So… thank you all for helping me realize my dream.”

“Here, here!” Patrick bellowed, beginning to clap.

While several ponies were able to pick their hooves off the ground and clop them together to join in Patricks’ applause, several others were content to stamp them onto the floor. Peter took a moment to look around his staff, soaking in the appreciation each one of them showed to him. For the first time today since he woke up early that morning, Peter never felt so ready to begin cooking.

“Alright everyone,” he shouted, “back to it!”

“Yes, chef!” they all called back.

The controlled commotion resumed again, the cooks hard at work to prepare for what would most likely be a very busy night.

“Ready to get to work?” Peter asked his father.

“Wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” he responded.

Accepting his answer, Peter and Patrick walked over to join Crème Fraiche once again in preparing the pasta for the pizzocheri. After a quick, formal shaking of her hoof with his hand, Patrick stood by as he awaited direction from his son.

“Anything you’d like me to do?” Patrick wondered aloud.

“As a matter of fact,” Peter said, “you think you can improvise a couple of dishes to try out?”

“Hmm. Nothing would make me happier.”

With a full-bodied nod and bow to his son, Patrick headed off to the pantry to peruse the ingredients he’d think he’d need.

Peter bounced up to call his father’s attention, shouting, “Be sure to share–”

“With the cooks, of course!” Patrick finished. “You don’t need to tell me twice!”

Peter sighed with relief as Patrick disappeared into the pantry. To think that he’d calling the shots on the man who raised him and made him into the chef and man he turned out to be; it was a feeling to behold. With his faith in his father as firm as it could be, Peter returned to making pasta with Crème Fraiche.

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Peter stood just outside a bejeweled archway closed off by the wall, wearing a freshly knitted shirt, pants, and a crudely cobbled pair of shoes that bore the bare-minimum resemblance to the shoes he wore when he first arrived in Equestria. Though he outgrew his old clothes in the time he spent in his home away from home, he knew he’d never outgrow Equestria and the love and friendships that they provided him. Standing behind Peter were Celestia, Twilight, and Crème Fraiche, ready to see their little boy off for one final time. Not an eye among them was dry, and it was unlikely that they’d be dry before the day came to its end.

“Peter Falwell,” Celestia cooed, “it has been a pleasure having you in our lives, and I hope with all my heart that you extend that same pleasure to whoever else comes into your life back at home. Thank you for your patience and understanding for our mistakes, and thank you for being a piece in our lives we never knew we needed.”

Peter’s let out a somewhat dry sob. Most of his grief had already came out the previous day, and he knew there was no direction to go now but forward, where he belonged.

“Goodbye, Peter!” Twilight squeaked. “I’m gonna’ miss you so much!”

“As will I,” Crème Fraiche also bid. “And please, do take care of your father just as much as he would you.”

“Alright,” Peter croaked. “I’m ready now.”

“Very well,” Celestia breathed out, her horn shimmering with her magic. “When I tell you, you can walk toward the light whenever you’re ready.”

Celestia shot a bright, concentrated beam at the center jewel at the top of the archway. As the magic’s light filled the gems lining it from the top down, the inner borders began to glow themselves. Peter watched as the area of the wall within the archway disintegrated into a void of pure white, a wind blowing itself toward it. Peter stared into it, in marvel of the power he felt coming from it.

“Alright, Peter,” Celestia instructed, her hold on her magic kept onto the portal. “You are free to return home. Farewell.”

Peter could hear her loud and clear, but he just needed to feel the Equestrian stone beneath his feet just a little while longer before he’d never get to stand upon them again. When he felt like he did so enough to satisfy him, he began to walk toward the portal, step by reluctant step. Soon the tips of his shoes grazed where the light began, a force inside of him keeping him from making that one final step.

Peter spun around, his back to the portal as he looked into the faces of the three ponies that provided him a home in an impossible situation, forever indebted to their hospitality and kindness. Celestia pressed her lips together, resisting every urge to cry in front of him before letting out the words that helped her keep it all together.

“I love you.”

At that moment, the force subsided, and he could now almost feel himself getting pulled toward the portal instead, feeling the warmth the light provided upon meeting his back. Peter smiled as he granted his eyes one last look at these three, the ones he could call his second family.

“I love you all too,” he brought himself to say.

Peter shut his eyes, as the rest of the light surrounded him all over. He would never forget them for the rest of his life.

Author's Note

Anniversary Update

Chapter 1: Bittersweet Nostalgia

It was late at night, and the glow from the moonlight as well as the torches that lined the corridors provided the only light inside the castle. Tiptoeing down the halls was a young boy with fuzzy black hair in plush, green pajamas. In one hand, he held a silver cake server and three forks. In the other, he held three small china plates.

Next to him, equally as silent was a lavender unicorn filly with a purple Hime-style manecut with a lavender streak. On both sides of her flank was a mark of a lavender six-pronged star with sparkling stars around it.

Hovering next to her and wrapped in a purplish aura was a sizable cake with white icing and puffs of yellow frosting outlining each tier it. The top tier had a large blue candle that stayed alight as the two walked through the halls to a large door. The door was guarded by two pegasus stallions with blue manes and tails in golden armor. However, upon seeing the child and foal they smiled and moved to the sides, allowing them to enter.

“You don’t think Princess Celestia will be mad, do you, Peter?” the filly asked with a hint of apprehension in her voice.

“Come on, Sparky,” goaded Peter, “Celestia’s gonna’ love this!”

“I sure hope so…”

“I know so.”

“On three, then?”

“On three.”

One,” they both counted. “Two. Three!”

Peter opened the doors up while the filly he named “Sparky” stepped in. Inside, the room was a lavish blue room with a purple fireplace. Lying down on a large, purple-and-gold rug with a gold, cylindrical pillow behind her was a pure-white alicorn with a long mane with streaks of pink, blue, purple, and green flowing in an absent breeze.

She was adorned with gold jewelry that consisted of a broach, a tiara, and slippers for her hooves. With a magical aura around her horn and a white quill, she was writing a letter on a browning piece of parchment. The sound of the door to her room opening brought her attention to the noise. Her surprised and heartfelt smile appeared when she saw the boy and filly with the cake and candle.

“Happy birthday to you, sung Peter and Sparky, “Happy birthday to you,
happy birthday, Princess Celestia, happy birthday to you."

Tears had formed in Celestia’s eyes as her birthday cake was placed in front of her. Being that it was the first time a birthday had come for Celestia since Twilight became her pupil and Peter had been taken in, she was touched that they would go through the trouble of making her a cake to celebrate it. Princess Celestia blew out the candle atop of her cake, the wisps of smoke from the wick dancing around Peter’s and Twilight’s head.

“Twilight, Peter, thank you so very much,” Celestia spoke in a motherly and heartfelt tone. “It means the world to me that you two remembered my birthday.”

“Of course,” Twilight answered. “Why wouldn’t I remember my teacher’s birthday?”

“Besides,” said Peter as he took the candle out and sliced the cake up with the server, “I wanted to make you a cake.”

“Wait,” butted in Celestia. “You made this cake?”

“Well, Crème Fraiche helped me out just a little.”

“Oh, bless her heart. Where is she now?”

“She was feeling very tired and went to bed,” responded Twilight, “but she asked us to tell you ‘Happy Birthday’ for her.”

“But the whole cake thing was my idea!” Peter exclaimed, pointing his thumb at his chest.

“It was ours!” Twilight shouted, shocked over his betrayal.

Peter gave Twilight a coy and lighthearted pout, telling Twilight that her was just playing around. Twilight’s slight frown turned into a smile as a generous wedge of cake was placed before her on a plate. Twilight turned to see that Celestia had already been served, spearing a bite for herself with her fork. Once Peter had served himself, the two ponies and the boy began eating.

“Mmm,” Celestia said before she swallowed. “Compliments to the chefs.”

Peter giggled at the plural use of “chefs” that implied that he was involved.

“And that’s just what I’m going to be,” said Peter.

The two ponies looked at him, wishing for an answer.

“When I grow up, I want to become a chef, just like Crème Fraiche and my own pop.”

“If you can make cakes like this,” spoke Celestia, “then I can see you doing very well at that.”

Celestia’s approval meant the world to Peter as he crawled over to her and wrapped his arms around and rested his head upon her swanlike neck. The act surprised Celestia, but she soon rested her chin on his shoulder and wrapped her right wing over his back.

Twilight, feeling left out, ran to Princess Celestia and hugged the part of her left half of her chest that Peter left exposed. Celestia unfurled her other wing and wrapped its downy softness around Twilght’s body.

“Happy birthday, Princess Celestia,” whispered Twilight.

“Yeah,” agreed Peter. “Happy birthday.”

Celestia was in too much in motherly bliss to answer as she went between Peter and Twilight and rubbed both of the sides of her head with theirs. If there was one thing Peter loved about Princess Celestia’s hugs, it was when she did this. Her smooth coat and the firmness of her face was a perfect combination.

Celestia then moved her lips to Peter’s cheek and gave a gentle smooch. This was why Peter loved these hugs most of all; was when she kissed him. It made him feel loved in a way his father couldn’t do back at home. It felt like having a real mother…

========================================

*BEEP**BEEP**BEEP**BEEP**BEEP**BEEP*

Peter shot his eyes open. He couldn’t stand the sound of his phone alarm, which served to make it a great device for waking him up in the morning. With as much agility as his still tired bones would allow him, Peter reached for the black iPhone 5 sitting on the floor besides his bed. Picking it up, he tapped the snooze button on the screen and disabled the dreaded siren.

Now completely awake, Peter tossed the vegetable-decorated comforter off of his body, revealing him to be in grey sweatpants with a black t-shirt that was one size too large for him. His hair, since childhood, had grown long, down to his upper back. As he sat up, he felt his bush of a head sweep in front of his eyes. Pulling his hair back, he looked upon his room, completely barren minus the bed which he slept on, a change of clothes, and a small duffle bag.

He slid out of bed and walked outside his room, greeted to the smell of butter melting in a pan. Knowing that he had to get a move on, he made his way into the bathroom where he showered, shaved, and wrapped his hair into a ponytail with a red band. By the time he exited his room, he could hear eggs sizzling in a skillet, breathing in the heavenly scent of garlic, spinach, and artichokes with it. Not wanting to delay a second longer, Peter quickened his pace back to his room, where he placed his sleeping attire from the bathroom into his duffle bag and put on his clothes that sat on the floor: underwear, black ankle-cut socks, khaki pants, and a t-shirt featuring the artwork to the poster of the film Amadeus.

Knowing that breakfast would be ready soon, he eagerly made his way back out of his room and down the stairs into the kitchen/dining room. At the counter, sliding two large pancakes onto a plate with a spatula was an older man in his mid-fifties. His hair was buzzed so short that from a distance, one could say he was bald. He had a light goatee on his chin with an equally short moustache that traveled down around his lips to the side of his beard. He was wearing a worn REO Speedwagon t-shirt and black athletic shorts.

Once the pancakes were on, the man also plated the frittata that was in the skillet on a separate dish, carrying both the pancakes and frittata to the counter/table in front of a tall seat that was pulled out for Peter.

“Morning, pop,” greeted Peter. “Smells delicious as always.”

“Just the way you like it,” Peter’s father said with a smile.

Without a second’s hesitation, Peter sliced a decent pat of butter from the stick on the dish in the center of the table and slathered it over his pancakes.

“So,” said Peter’s father, sitting at the table with pancakes and sausage on a single plate, “tell me exactly what’s in that frittata there.”

Peter paused with the butter and cut a bite of the frittata with his fork. He placed the morsel into his mouth and let the flavors roll on his tongue before swallowing.

“Let’s see here,” pondered Peter. “Eggs, surprise surprise, touch of salt, I smelled garlic on the way down, and I’m going to take a wild guess that they didn’t go into the pancakes…”

The statement earned a chuckle from his old man.

“…I can feel and taste the spinach and artichokes. The cheese, now… is… feta! That’s it! And some diced tomatoes!”

“Very good! And tell me the spices in the pancakes.”

Cleaning his fork of the egg with his mouth as best as possible, he poured a bottle of maple syrup onto the edge of his stack and cut where the syrup lay. Taking a bite and swishing around in his mouth, he tried again.

“Cinnamon, nutmeg, and a touch of… almond extract. Interesting…”

“Hahaha!” Peter’s father laughed with applause. “I know you’re going to do fine in the Big Apple.”

“Thanks, pop,” said Peter, his mouth almost stuffed with pancake. “Still, New York is practically the Paris of America in the culinary world. It’s a lot to live up to.”

“And again, I’m sure you’ll do fine. With your palate and love of food, there’s no way people are going to resist.”

“I sure hope so. I don’t want six years saving up working at Falwell’s to go to waste. I don’t even know how I could pick myself up after that.”

“But I thought you liked working at our restaurant.”

“But you know that it’s been my dream to run my own. And now that I finally got to secure enough for a down payment, it’s going to become your–” he lightly punched his father in the shoulder, “–restaurant again.”

“It won’t be the same without you, you know. It’s just going to be so hard with you gone again.”

Peter’s dad placed his hand on his son’s shoulder, and couldn’t help but feel saddened about the memory of when Peter disappeared. Peter knew what he was talking about when he said “again.” If only he could tell him where he really was and he could believe him. Peter took his father’s hand off his arm and set it back on the table.

“Pop,” said Peter, giving his dad an assuring grin, “you worry too much. I know it’s been tough having to raise me all alone and bearing the burden of watching your son go away, but I promise you that I’ll be alright. I always have been. Now come on. I’d hate to have my big send off breakfast under this roof to end in tears.”

Being true to his word, Peter grabbed his knife and fork and cut another bite of pancakes. Looking at his son’s confident face as he continued to eat, it gave him the strength to realize that everything would be alright. With the negative air in the room fading, Peter’s father speared a link of sausage with his fork.

____________________________________________________________

Peter had grabbed the last of his belongings from the house: the duffle bag with last night’s pajamas and his vegetable-decorated comforter. He tossed them into the back of a red Nissan Xterra on the driveway, which was loaded with other things, such as a couple of cotton cases, one being smaller than the other, some luggage containing clothes, a bag of snacks, and a cooler filled with bottles of water and cans of soda, the latter of which was placed on the front passenger seat.

Latched behind the van was a moving trailer that was filled to the brim with cardboard boxes, a state-of-the-art bicycle, and a large metallic crate. With his covers and final duffle bag in the back seats, Peter’s dad closed the door for him.

“Well,” spoke Peter’s father with finality, “this is it. Your journey to achieving your dream is finally going to reach its destination.”

“But it’s not going to be the end,” Peter stated. “The journey never ends.”

The father and son looked at each other for about ten seconds before they walked towards each other and gave each other a tight hug, knowing that it would be the last contact either one of them would have for a long time.

“Mom would be so proud of you,” his father said, choking up.

“I know she would,” Peter replied, looking up at the sky.

“I love you so much, Peter.”

“I… I love you too, dad.”

As much as he wanted to avoid tears on this day, Peter knew that he couldn’t suppress them. As hard as he tried to grip his father’s shirt and suck them back, it only forced the tears to come out even harder. As embarrassing as it felt then, by the time he was done, he felt rejuvenated, ready to begin his trek to New York. The two broke away from their hug, allowing Peter to leave.

“You might as well get a move on,” advised Peter’s dad. “If you want to get to New York around nightfall, that is.”

“Right,” Peter replied, patting his father on the shoulders.

Pulling a pair of keys from his pocket, Peter walked to the Nissan and climbed inside. Putting the keys into the ignition, he turned them once, bringing the engine to life. As the left hand gripped the steering wheel with his right on the gears, he took one last look at the house that he lived in for all of his life. Then, he shared a final glance with his dad before he put the car in reverse and backed out of his driveway.

Turning out of it, Peter couldn’t help but take one last glance at the house and his old man, all now visible in one sight. Wasting not another minute, he shifted the car into drive and accelerated forwards. However, before he could hit the highway, there was one last stop he had to make.

____________________________________________________________

Peter was parked along the street, glancing at a modest looking bistro on the corner of the T-intersection. On it was a small sign that read in bold Verdana font: Falwell’s. As Peter sat in his car, looking at the building, he couldn’t help but recall the fond memories that he would be leaving behind.

From his first time at the restaurant, he still remembered his first meal there as a kid: panko-crusted chicken fingers with homemade potato chips. The memory left Peter’s mouth watering. Then there was the tour his father gave him of the kitchen and showed him all of the different devices and utensils. He recalled every visit back there like being a kid in a candy store.

Then there was the time where he saw a dinner service from the kitchen itself. Seeing the people there with as much of a love for food as his father and seeing everything come together the way that it did was nothing short of inspirational. It was like watching Crème Fraiche back in Equestria work her magic all over again.

It was then in Peter’s teenage years, after years of observing and hands-on apprenticing with him, that he gave his son an apron and allowed him to work alongside him in the restaurant as an official employee. Tears began to form in his eyes at the recollection of what he considered one of the greatest days of his life.

And now, after almost ten years of working under his father, he finally was able to take the next step in making a mark in the culinary world. With his memories and journey thus far only strengthening his reserve, he dramatically blew a kiss to his former home-away-from-home, shifted the Xterra into drive, and rolled off.

Twilight, thought Peter. Celestia. Crème. If only you could see me now.

========================================

Peter watched as Crème Fraiche was garnishing and plating Celestia’s vegetable and barley soup. Peter looked impatient at Crème’s need for perfection. After all, Celestia was sick with a cold; she wouldn’t care how her soup looked, but the fact that she’d be getting soup at all was well enough.

Peter watched intently as Crème put two sticks each of cooked carrot and celery into a narrow teepee before sprinkling a little basil and oregano inside. Her soft, white coat that looked to be made of satin, her sandy-blonde bobbed mane, and the sky-blue magic aura that caressed itself around every item that she used with her horn. Even if her perfectionism was tedious at times, she was still a beautiful creature to watch in action.

“Wow,” Peter said, his sarcastic tone all but evident, “all that for a cup of soup?”

Crème laughed at Peter’s naiveté.

“You’re too young to understand,” she said in a delicate French accent, “but one day, you’ll learn that appearance could make all the difference between a good dish and a bad dish.”

“How so?” asked Peter as they both walked from the kitchen and to Celestia’s chambers, the cup of soup balanced perfectly on a bed-tray perfectly in Crème’s magical grasp. “Why should it matter if the soup looks like the Eiffel Tower?”

“Hm?”

“You know, the– oh…” said Peter, remembering their cultural divide. “It’s this big, big building in this city in the world where I come from. But why does the soup need to look like that? Soup is soup no matter how it tastes.”

“Just wait and see, Peter.”

As they continued to walk down the halls, they eventually made it to Celestia’s bedroom. Opening the door to her room, Peter could see the state Celestia was in. There were used and discarded tissues all over her bed and her normally white nose was red with stuffiness and irritation. Her frown slightly faded upon seeing Crème walk into the room with her soup.

“Dank you,” Celestia said, her stuffed nose muffling her voice.

Upon lowering the soup down to Celestia, both Crème and Peter could see as Celestia’s smile grew even wider upon seeing the extravagant garnishing.

“Mmy mmy,” gushed Celestia. “Dis soup looks delicious.”

“Only the best for her majesty,” replied Crème with a bow.

“Dank you onnce akainn.”

Peter was amazed by Celestia’s reaction. It looked as if she was more excited by how the soup looked than by how it was going to taste.

“Let’s leave,” Crème advised Peter. “She still needs to heal.”

“She really must have liked how that soup looked,” Peter responded as the both began to walk back.

“You see? Presentation is half of the dish. When you make food look as good as it can, the diner will be more inclined to enjoy it. Not to mention, colds tend to go away faster when the pony with the cold is in higher spirits. Plating and presentation can really help out in that way.”

Every day, Crème Fraiche never ceased to amaze Peter. If it was his dad that got him intrigued in the culinary world, it was certainly Crème Fraiche that held his attention to it. To think, he could only wonder where he’d be if it wasn’t for her–

========================================

“Large red beans and rice and biscuit, for Peter!” called the Ebonics-ridden voice of a middle-aged African-American behind the counter in a Popeye’s Chicken uniform.

Peter was shunted from his moment of reflection and quickly took the tray with his styrofoam carton of dinner and his biscuit on it from the woman, feeling sorry for any time of hers that he wasted. He shuffled to his table and sat down, hungrily prying open the top of his red beans and rice.

As badly as he wanted some of their tasty smelling chicken fingers like a few of the customers around him had ordered, after being in Equestria, eating chickens (or most other meats) became a lot harder to swallow. Either way, his red beans and rice smelled equally good.

Without another second’s hesitation, he spooned some red-bean gravy with his spork onto a portion of his biscuit, quickly chowing-down a large bite before the red-beans could drip onto the table.

____________________________________________________________

It was now just reaching sunset, the sky becoming a mellow orange that anticipated Peter further. He was now driving through Pennsylvanian hills that would soon take him to the state of New York. At his current speeds, he deduced, he would be able to find a motel well before midnight, where he would call his dad as he had promised during his Popeye’s dinner and rest stop.

After hours upon hours of driving, Peter felt his heart soar in his chest, getting more excited with each new mile that he covered. He was already in his pre-celebratory mode as he mimicked Keith Emerson’s piano from Karn Evil 9: 2nd Impression. To think, he’d soon be in New York and living his dream. He was so close that he could practically taste it.

As he drove through a particularly forested area, billows of grey fog began to seep from the trees and on both sides of the road. With the lack of cars, Peter jumped out of his joyful state of mind and reduced his speed and put the lights on. As expected, the fog blanketed the road and made seeing much more difficult. Peter had to be careful about his speed. If he was too slow, a car going fast would not see him through the haze and rear-end his trailer and break most, if not, all his equipment. If he was too fast, he’d probably do the same and rear-end someone else. Either scenario would work terribly for him.

Peter leaned forwards in his seat, his brows beginning to sweat profusely. If there was one time things could not go wrong, it was on this trip.

Whatever, Peter thought, it’s just a little fog; it’ll clear up. It always does.

The fog didn't seem to let up, its thickness becoming the likeness of smoke. From the windshield, Peter couldn’t help but notice that the faint color of the sky that managed to bleed through the fog was more vibrant and that the sunlight was beginning to feel brighter. Suddenly the smooth asphalt highway surfaces became bumpy and unmanaged, as if he had suddenly transferred to a hilly plain.

The car began to jerk and bump heavily with the speed that Peter was going. In his shock and lack of preparation, as well as the roads misconfiguring his aim, Peter pressed his foot onto the pedal, hoping he found the brake, but was horrified when the car lurched forwards.

Moving his foot back to the correct pedal, he slammed it down, hearing the tires slide on the dirt and mud. Hoping that nothing was in the area, he tensed his body and shoved his arm into the horn to scare anyone and anything off. Peter put his hands back on the wheel, praying for nothing worse to happen.

Nervousness and apprehension became full-fledged fright when a loud noise of breaking wood, metal and shattered glass sounded off immediately followed by a sudden jerking stop that activated the airbags.

The second Peter heard the noise and felt the stop, the entirety of his body felt cold and clammy with agonizing shivers running down his spine. Peter, with hardly any strength in his arms, pushed the air from the bag and forced it down to look at what he crashed into. From the interior, there was hay, red paint with white framing on the walls, as well as some pens for pigs. It looked to be that he crashed his car into the most stereotypical barn of all time.

As if to add insult to injury, the fog began to clear up and reveal where he was. He looked to be in a farmland area complete with chicken coops and patches of corn and carrots. All around him was a plethora of apple trees with bright, red apples growing from the branches. Peter couldn’t be bothered to admire the scenery, instead wondering how he could have possibly ended up here from the tollway, how he was going to fix this barn and his car, and more importantly, how he was going to get to New York any time soon.

“What in tarnation was that?” asked a mature female Southern voice approaching him.

Peter put the car in park, turned the lights off, and fumbled for the keys to turn the car off. As he did so, he looked out the windshield to see the person he’d more than likely be indebted to for his destructive act. The silhouette of an equine figure with a cowboy hat appeared in the entranceway. Upon looking at his car’s headlights, the creature shouted in fear and ran.

“Wha… What?” Peter whispered, confusion mixing with his fear in an intangible mess.

Peter quickly twisted the key from the ignition, unbuckled his seatbelt, and opened the door. His skyrocketing emotions rendered his body unstable as he felt to ground on a mound of hay, getting up as slowly and calmly as possible to avoid splinters of wood or pieces of broken glass.

“Hold it!” yelled the same voice, causing Peter’s head to shoot up straight at who was talking.

There were three silhouettes: the same one from before, a much larger equine figure, and a small one with a large bow on its head. Immediately, Peter lost all feeling in his legs as he sunk to his knees and threw his arms up.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry!” he broke down, sobbing. “I didn’t mean to! The fog was so thick! Just please, I’ll do anything, just don’t hurt me!”

Peter sunk further to the ground, his elbows and face placed on the hay as he wept into it. Unbeknownst to him, the three equines looked at each other with confusion over his disposition.

“Uh,” tried to speak the mature-female voice, “it’s alright, sugar. Ah’m… Ah’m sure you didn’t mean any harm, and thank Celestia that nopony was hurt.”

Immediately, Peter looked up and sat up on his knees, his crying replaced by a head-on collision with déjà vu. Suddenly, he began to put two and two together as he saw the equines in front of him.

“Celestia…” Peter muttered, his voice shaky with hyperventilation, “anypony… don’t tell me…”

“Don’t tell you what?” asked the voice of a small-female child with a Southern accent.

“Am I…” he began to ask. “Am I… in Equestria?”

“Well, of course you are!” said the adult-female, walking over to Peter, her features becoming more defined in the light from the window at the top-front of the barn. “Where else could you be?” she said, her mouth visibly moving.

Peter, his mind overcome with thousands of different thoughts, swooned to the left and fainted upon the hay, the world nothing but a silent void of black.

Chapter 9: Soul Kitchen - Part 1

Crème Fraiche carefully layered the right cheeses as Peter instructed her. The soup was already piping hot and just needed to be served into cups. With the Swiss and white cheddar nicely layered atop the bread, all that was left was the Havarti, which Crème did with the delicacy of a pointillism artist.

“Wow,” Peter complained, “are you almost done there?”

“One of the first things to know about cooking,” taught Crème, deep in concentration, “is that cooking requires patience. Anyone can slap together cheese on bread, but it takes a true chef to make something truly outstanding with them.”

Peter nodded, merely as a sign of acknowledging that she spoke to him. He could have cared less about what she actually said; he just wanted his sandwich. With the last of the two sandwiches constructed, Crème lifted them both up and lathered both sides with butter before putting them both in a large skillet.

“I must say,” Crème said, “your father has excellent tastes. Does he make this for you often?”

“Eh,” Peter tried to recall, “he would always make it on days when I was down in the dumps.”

“Oh, and I know how much you miss him, so this can be such an occasion!”

“Yes, please don’t remind me.”

“My apologies, Peter, but I shall see to it that your time here be fun, fresh, and…”

She took a break to flip the sandwiches over, revealing a perfectly golden-brown surface with a loud sizzle as the other side went on.

“…delicious.”

“Wow,” Peter sighed. “That does look really good.”

“I know. This is what years of training and determination have brought me. If you truly wish to cook as well as I or even your father, you should really pay attention to my words instead of dozing off.”

“Dozing off? When have I–”

“I saw the way you nodded when I talked about patience. Now, I realize you’re a child, Peter, but in order to fully grasp the art of cooking, you must listen to me like an adult, both ears and mind.”

“That’s not burning yet, is it?”

“No, not yet…”

Peter looked back at her and back at the sandwich. She seemed to know what she was doing. With a few seconds past, Crème took the sandwiches off with a spatula and put them on the counter. While the finished grilled cheeses sat there, Crème ladled some ruby-red tomato soup into two soup-cups, and put them both on the center of a plate.

Crème then cut the sandwiches down the diagonal center with a chef’s knife and put two halves on each plate next to the cup. Lastly, Crème reached inside the oven with her magic and pulled out about a dozen or more salad-sized croutons, toasted to absolute perfection.

Peter couldn’t be sure what he was watching, but he had never seen someone be this perfect with food, even for his dad. Crème finished the plating with a gentle garnishing of about six of the croutons in each bowl.

“Alright,” Crème accounted, “let us go find Twilight.”

Crème picked up both saucers with the grilled cheeses and cups of soup on them. Peter followed her out, taking occasional glances at the steam that rolled off of his and Twilight’s plates. Perhaps Peter would benefit from learning a thing or two from this mare.

========================================

Peter began to slice shallots as the butter in his pan was beginning to heat up. Once he was finished, he picked up the pot, brought it to the counter and flicked the shallots into it, the shallots sizzling instantly. Peter then went to check on his roux in the pot beside him, and saw that it was beginning to turn a golden brown, allowing him to take the cup of milk from the counter behind him and add it in a little bit at a time until the butter-and-flour mixture was fully incorporated.

Peter stirred the shallots a touch, getting to see the slight, golden color that he wanted. He then took the pan over to the counter at a small pile of diced potatoes and threw them in as well, allowing them to soften. Peter let those sit for a spell while he went to the counter to a head of romaine lettuce, cutting the stem off and halving it down the center. He quickly cut up cherry tomatoes that he left so he could stir his potatoes. While the potatoes coloring didn’t seem to have a noticeable change, the shallots were beginning to really have a nice color to them.

Peter figured he could allow them a minute or so to sit while he would get prepared for the appetizer. Peter ran back to the pantry and grabbed a large mound of hay. While nearly every one of his dishes were inspired from human cuisine (even if they were vegan/vegetarian), he knew that in order to know what he was cooking for, he’d have to make a classic Equestrian treat.

With the hay gathered, Peter loaded the golden shallots and potatoes into the pot, stirring it in to incorporate everything and too keep the milk from scorching, seasoning it slightly with some salt and pepper. The soup would need some time to simmer, so Peter went to the hay to begin his work.

____________________________________________________________

Twilight, Spike, Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, Crème Fraiche, and Patrick on Peter’s laptop were all sitting and waiting for Peter to come out.

“Surely he doesn’t think that he’s going to be able to give you all eight dishes at once,” Patrick said. “You’d have to be an octopus to manage all those dishes.”

“Indeed,” Celestia agreed, “but I know Peter will do whatever he knows is right for him to pass this test.”

“I assume we shall see the salad and soup first,” Crème predicted. “A classic combination. Then he shall do both the sandwich and appetizer next, so that way, he could give us all three entrees at once, and then cap off with the dessert.”

“If he does each of these in thirty minute intervals,” reasoned Luna, “he might have a shot here.”

Twilight was much more nervous about the well-being for Peter’s passing.

“Oh,” groaned Twilight. “Come on, Peter, you have to do this.”

“Come on, Twilight,” eased Spike, patting his companion on the side of her belly, “Peter will do just fine. If his cooking is anything like yesterday’s, then he’ll ace this thing. Just you see!”

“Yeah,” Twilight reluctantly agreed, “I guess you’re right.”

It still didn’t keep the beads of sweat from trickling down her brow.

____________________________________________________________

Peter had tied off and cut the frayed ends of about a dozen very small bundles of hay with other strands of hay. The bundles had the approximate thickness of steak fries.

“I’m sure this will be plenty for a mere taste test,” he said.

Peter went back to stir his soup. The potatoes had to be done by now. Peter took a spoon and dipped it into the pot, pulling up a potato on its way out. Peter put the potato in his mouth and bit down. The potatoes had a touch of unfavorable firmness, but in a few minutes time, they would be done.

Without further to do, Peter went to the blender set up behind him. In it, he mixed in anchovy paste, a clove of garlic, mayonnaise, crème fraiche, as well as chopped parsley, tarragon, chives, and a touch of oregano. Peter topped it off with a couple tablespoons of lemon juice and a handful of gorgonzola. Peter turned the blender on, allowing him to whip and chop up the ingredients together.

As they continued to meld, Peter took his halved head of romaine with a pair of tongs and took it to the grill next to the stove. The embers inside of it were burning nicely, but he only needed it for a second. Peter laid the flat end of the head on the grill for one second literally. Lifting it back, he saw that the inside had a slight blackened char to it.

Peter placed the romaine on a long, rectangular plate flat-side up and turned off the blender. Lastly, he took the white bulbs of the green onion that he saved from his chives from the dressing and sliced them thin. Peter took the green goddess dressing and poured it into a plastic bottle, screwing on the nozzle top afterwards. Peter, in a zigzag pattern, applied a decent amount dressing to the lettuce. Peter topped the lettuce with the onion and tomato.

Peter took out a grater and a brick of parmesan cheese and lightly dusted the top of the salad with the cheese. Once Peter put the grater and cheese back on the counter top, he fetched a soup-cup and a ladle. Peter was certain that the potatoes were done by now, and he ladled his creamy soup into it, then placing it on the counter and sprinkling some leftover chives from the dressing.

Peter took a sigh of relief, knowing that he was a quarter of the way done. Peter looked at a cart near the exit of the kitchen, happy to know that he was ready to present his first dishes.

____________________________________________________________

The sound of wheels rolling on the tile coming closer to Celestia’s chambers got everyone inside intrigued. Peter came in pushing the cart with two dome-like metal lids covering the contents of whatever was inside.

“Well,” Celestia said, “I see you have your first two dishes ready to go.”

“I do,” Peter said, rolling up to the table and placing both dishes on the table.

Celestia, Luna, and Crème Fraiche walked down to meet Peter at the table.

“Which dish would you like to start off with?” asked Crème.

“Let us do the soup,” Peter said, lifting the lid.

While Celestia and Luna looked upon the soup with a smile, Crème couldn’t help but giggle at seeing how good Peter’s dish looked, happy to see how much he’s obviously learned. Spike could smell the steam wafting to him and Twilight, and he was beginning to drool.

“This is a potato and shallot soup with a milk base that was thickened with a roux,” explained Peter. “This recipe was inspired by a chef in my world named Julia Child, who featured a similar soup in one of her cookbooks.

Celestia was the first to take a bite, using one of the many spoons provided for her by Peter. Celestia was smiling as she tasted the contents inside her mouth, and Peter smiled in return, knowing what this meant. Upon swallowing, she made her verdict.

“It’s simple, but it’s very flavorful and rich. The potatoes have great consistency, and the shallots have a wonderful texture to them. This is great.”

“Thank you, Celestia,” bid Peter.

Luna was next, lifting her spoon up and putting it inside the soup. Her spoon contained at least one potato, some shallot slices, and the chive garnish. Putting the food in her mouth, she tasted her bite with a stoic expression, even as she swallowed.

“I know you don’t know me that well yet, Peter,” Luna said, “but I am usually not very fond of cream-based soups.”

Peter held back his grimace.

“However, continued Luna, “it would be unfair to judge you on my preferences, so I shall simply say that other ponies eating this would be very pleased.”

“Thank you, Luna,” answered Peter.

Lastly, there was Crème Fraiche. Peter’s feelings were a mixed-bag. Either she would be his most receptive or most harsh critic, having more culinary experience than he did. Peter just watched as she stepped up, took her spoon, and used it to put some soup in her mouth. It didn’t take Crème long to taste before she swallowed. Peter was on edge for her opinion.

“That is delicious,” Crème said with a wide smile, Peter giggling himself from her acceptance. “The broth has perfect consistency, and the shallots leave a nice crunch when you eat them. The potatoes are cooked beautifully, and… this is just a great dish. Thank you, Peter.”

“No, thank you, Crème,” Peter said, bowing to her with hands pressed flat together.

Peter looked to his father on the computer, who was beaming as he shook his clasped hands to the side in congratulations. Peter acknowledged his with a thumbs up and cheesy open mouthed smile.

“So next is the salad,” announced Celestia.

Peter removed the lid off the second tray to reveal the salad that Peter had prepared. The three judges were much more impressed by the plating here, and even Twilight from her angle could see how good the salad looked.

“This is a grilled romaine salad with tomatoes, green onion, parmesan cheese, and a gorgonzola green goddess dressing.”

“I’m sorry,” Crème wanted to clarify, “did you say grilled?”

Celestia was already grabbing her fork and knife as Peter explained his dish.

“Yes. I put the flat side of the head of lettuce on the grill for just a second to give it that char look and flavor.”

Celestia cut herself a bite and bit into it, already nodding in approval. Peter was excited to see her swallow so she could give him her critique.

“I would have never thought of grilling a salad, but I might have to ask for Crème to make some in the future, because that was excellent. The lettuce and dressing ratio was excellent, and that char really adds some phenomenal flavors.”

“Thank you, Celestia,” Peter spoke.

Luna was next, giving Peter another stern look as she cut her own bite with her own utensils and ate her morsel of salad. Her look was as unchanging as the last, and she swallowed, ready to explain herself.

“While I find the decision to grill a salad to be bold, there are some things you have to be careful for. One is the char flavor. If improperly done, you could burn the lettuce and it would taste bitter. Second, is your dressing. Gorgonzola is a powerful cheese and its umami flavors might enhance the bitterness of the lettuce. Except this wasn’t the case. The salad has noticeable grill flavor without the burn taste, and there is enough lemon juice and crème fraiche in the dressing to offset the gorgonzola flavor. Very impressive, Peter.”

“Thank you, Luna,” Peter said exasperatingly.

As Luna stepped back, Crème came up while lifting her set of given utensils.

“Quite the palate on her,” Crème said in relation to Luna.

“Yes, I agree.”

Crème took her bite. Peter was excited to see his muse swooned a little bit as she chewed her food. Upon swallowing, she took a second to inhale.

“That literally took my breath away,” she complimented. “And there’s hardly anything that I can say that Celestia and Luna have not said. Your dressing is creamy and tangy, and it works very well with the way you prepared your salad. There are plenty of tomatoes and onions in each bite and they really help give the salad more strength. You’re off to a very good start, Peter.”

“Thank you so much, Crème,” giggled Peter.

“Yes,” spoke Celestia, “but Peter has six more dishes for us to try, and his time for cooking resumes… now.”

“Thank you so much!” he called out before he broke back into a sprint with his cart in his grasp and headed back towards the kitchen.

“Twilight,” beckoned Celestia, “Spike. You must try this.”

Twilight and Spike were all too eager to come to the unfinished soup and salad, the latter running while the former trotted. Spike took a large spoonful of soup and ate it, blissfully swooning to the floor. Twilight herself took a bite of the salad. Her reaction was akin to Crème Fraiche’s, and she swallowed with a refreshed exhale.

“I think Peter may have this in the bag,” said Crème.

“There are still six dishes left, Crème,” answered Celestia. “But yes, I do believe he has learned much.”

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On the one day he didn’t join Crème Fraiche in the kitchen. Peter looked at the plate of hot, crispy straw in front of him with disgust. He didn’t wish to be disrespectful to Crème, but he knew there was just no way that a human such as himself could stomach hay.

“Come on, Peter!” egged Twilight. “Everypony loves hay fries!”

“I’m sorry,” Peter said, “but humans don’t eat hay.”

“It’s alright, Peter,” said Celestia, “this is what we’re learning about you. I’ll ask Crème to make you something else then.”

“Wait,” Peter said, “I’ll try one. I just don’t want to make Crème upset.”

Celestia and Twilight watched as Peter picked up two strings of hay from the plate and put them in his mouth. Peter tried his hardest to hold his grimace, but he choked on his own sickened tears trying to do so.

It tasted exactly as it was supposed to sound: deep-fried hay. It was oily, yet dry and unpalatable. Peter tried his best to break the hay with his teeth, only for it to fray off into dozens of fibers which wouldn’t be chewed for the life of him. Peter heaved once, but his empty stomach produced nothing for him to vomit, but he still kept trying to eat.

“Peter,” called Celestia, “stop it! Spit that out!”

Peter did as he was told, trying to wipe his mouth full clean with his fingers and drink as much water as possible to get the taste out. Peter took a few inhales as he looked down at the mess he made on his plate. Peter began to whine, coming close to crying.

“It’s alright, Peter. I will tell Crème that hay is inedible to humans. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “I didn’t want to hurt her feelings…”

“I’ll take that into account. If I know Crème Fraiche like I know I do, she’ll gladly forgive you.”

Celestia left the hall, as Peter still wept, although not as hard as before. Twilight patted Peter on the back in condolence, knowing that he didn’t mean anything.

========================================

Peter whisked the truffle oil into his aioli as his hay fries were cooking in the fryers. His black bean burger patty was cooking up on the grill, and he had apple coleslaw in a large metal bowl that he was ready to top his burger with, as well as a small pot of barbecue sauce with apple cider inside of it. After seasoning his aioli with some salt and pepper, Peter flipped his burger over, seeing the nice blackened marks that the fires made going through the grates.

Peter went to the fries and lifted them out of the fryers. The ties he made to them still looked intact, giving them the appearance of actual fries and not shoestring potatoes. While the hay was still wet from the oil, Peter tossed them into another metal bowl and seasoned them once more with salt and pepper, then taking his grater and brick of parmesan, shredded some cheese into the bowl and tossed it around. Finishing with a little parsley, Peter placed the fries upon an ovular plate and lightly drizzled the aioli atop of them, putting a little more inside a small metal tub.

With only a minute left on the burger, Peter went to check on his bun that he halved and toasted on a pan in the stove. Having been left there under low heat, the bun was a beautiful golden brown.He went back to a plate on the counter and placed it there with both open sides face up. Peter then scooped some of the slaw onto the top bun and put it in a nice, even layer. Peter hopped to the barbecue sauce and grabbed the sauced and a ladle. Peter walked back over and poured a generous amount of sauce on the bottom bun and spread it around in another even layer.

With that now finished, Peter grabbed his spatula and got the patty off the grill, placing it on the bottom bun. Peter carefully, flipped the top bun with the coleslaw on top. Peter took a towel and wiped off any sauce or bits of coleslaw that escaped from the plate. His next two dishes were completed.

“Whoooooa,” sang Peter quietly to himself as he waved his arms in the air, “I’m halfway there…”

____________________________________________________________

Peter came back with his cart and two new dishes placed upon them. Peter’s reappearance in the room brought smiles to everyone’s face, Peter especially, who arrived more confident than ever after his last judging.

“He’s back!” shouted Spike.

“Calm down,” chided Twilight. “This food is for the princesses and Crème Fraiche. They were generous to allow us some bites, so wait until they let us.”

“Ughh. Fine.”

Peter put his two new dishes on the table for the approaching Celestia, Luna, and Crème.

“Alright, Peter,” Celestia asked, “which of your dishes are these?”

“This is my sandwich and appetizer.”

“Very good. Which one do you want to start with.”

“If it’s any trouble, I’d like to put both up and have you judge them at the same time. They do kind of go together.”

“No, that should be no problem at all. With the food you’ve been putting out, I’m all but eager to try whatever you’ve made.”

Without hesitation, Peter lifted up both lids, revealing his burger and hay fries. Peter couldn’t help but notice as Luna glared at the hay fries. Peter put it out of his mind, looking to his first judge, Celestia.

“And what is the sandwich?” she asked.

“This is a black-bean burger with apple coleslaw and barbecue sauce flavored with apple cider,” Peter answered.

“Coleslaw and barbecue sauce?” wondered Luna sternly.

“Yes. The apples were cut into matchsticks and were mixed with green and red cabbage, as well as some red onion for color, some mayonnaise, and some apple-cider vinegar to offset the sweetness of the barbecue sauce, which is tomato sauce, apple cider, as well as some brown sugar and molasses to thicken it up, among other things.”

Celestia took the single knife that came with the two dishes and cut it into quarters. Then, remembering Twilight and Spike, she cut one of the quarters into two eighths. Celestia picked up on of the quarters with her magic and put a large bite in her mouth, as to get every element of the sandwich without getting too much sauce on her muzzle. Celestia smiled at Peter as her cheeks were puffing from her chewing. Upon swallowing, she made her verdict.

“There’s definitely a lot going on in there, but it really works. The toasted bun, along with the coleslaw, provides a really pleasant crunch and yes, the tart coleslaw does make a good counterbalance with the sauce. Very nice.”

“Thank you,” sighed Peter.

“And what are these?” asked Celestia. “Hay fries?”

“If I’m going to be living in Equestria and running an Equestrian restaurant, I might as well make Equestrian food.”

“Not a bad decision, but I ask what these are?”

“They’re hay fries topped with parmesan, parsley, as well as a truffle aioli which also comes on the side. I gathered some of the hay, tied them together in manageable sticks using another piece of hay, and I snipped the ends off.”

“I do have to say,” Celestia said, peering inside the near, empty plate, “there’s hardly anything there.”

“I am trying to make time for my other dishes.”

“I see. I suppose the taste of the food shall be your winning factor here, not so much quantity.”

“I sure hope so.”

Celestia pulled one of the hay fries up from the plate and dipped a little more into the aioli. Celestia inserted the stick of straw into her mouth, her initial taste making her giggle. Peter wasn’t sure what it meant, but he had an idea.

“So funny that someone who despises hay fries…”

Peter blushed at the painful memory.

“…made quite possibly the best hay fry I’ve ever had.”

Peter was quite well aware of how old Celestia was, but to hear her say it was one of the best in her life was a compliment beyond all comprehension.

“I love what you did to give some structure to the fries, and the sauce they’re served in is astounding. I can certainly see why you paired these two dishes together, because they really work well together.

“Thank you, Celestia,” Peter shuddered out, beaming.

Patrick gave Peter a thumbs up on the camera, which Peter returned. However, Luna had returned with her stern expression, leaving Peter confused as to why she looked at him like this.

“I wish to try the fries first,” she said, lifting one up without dipping in the sauce. “It really disappointed me that there were so few fries on the plate, but I suppose given the time allotted, it couldn’t be helped. The point is, you made fries, and now all that’s left is to see how they taste.”

Luna put the fry in her mouth and chewed. Her eyes went a little wide, which surprised Peter. With a swallow, her mouth was free to talk.

“I agree with my sister that the fries are quite good, but some odd feeling tells me that the fries aren’t your idea.”

“I know they’re not,” Peter admitted. “I derived the recipe from this burger joint in the Midwest and wanted to bring them here to Equestria.”

“I have to ask you. Do you think you’re going to pass this test on the coattails of others?”

“I won’t pass this on the coattails of others, Luna. I’ll pass it on my own.”

Luna went to her own quarter of the burger, and lifting her section with her magic, she placed her teeth over the mere corners of the sandwich and bit down. To Peter, it hardly even looked like she ate anything at all. Luna, however, finished her chewing and swallowed, looking Peter in the eyes.

“I see genuine creativity in this burger. While inspired by chefs who’ve done similar things, I can see that this burger is one of genuine creativity, and it shows.”

Peter nodded in appreciation.

“One would think that such tart flavors of coleslaw on a burger would be, for lack of a better term, disgusting. However, you’ve saved this with your barbecue sauce. It has very rich flavors, and they work in tandem with each other. This burger would have failed if you left one and not the other. Perhaps I misjudged you.”

Luna stepped back as Crème Fraiche giddily walked up to the burger. She excitedly lifted her slice up to her mouth and bit down, a little of the sauce dribbling to the plate. It didn’t stop her from smiling like an idiot as she chewed and moaned in delight. With a hearty gulp, Crème began talking.

“I’ve always intrigued myself with making a gourmet burger, but never had the opportunity. I’m glad you gave it to me. I still can’t believe the bun is still toasty after the liquids on both the top and bottom would have probably softened it by now, but Celestia was right about the crunch in the coleslaw. And the patty itself has such great texture and flavor. Excellent. Now, on to the fries.”

Crème lifted one of the ten fries left on the plate and examined it.

“While it’s true that using another chef’s dish like that can be tacky, I highly doubt where you come from they use hay.”

“No,” answered Peter. “We use potatoes.”

“So there’s another thing. A good chef can take ingredients that they’re unfamiliar with and still make something out of them, and the technique you used to bind the hay together is wonderful. And the taste…”

Crème popped her fry in her mouth and savored it. Peter was expecting just a few words and an order to return to the kitchen. Crème swallowed and finished her statement.

“…is still excellent. I’m not sure how these fries taste on your world, but if they’re as delicious as those, I’d just say you nailed them perfectly. While creation is the cornerstone of any chef, still being able to replicate a dish can be tricky, and you still nailed this.”

“Thank you, Crème.”

“Alright, Peter,” said Celestia. “Now you move onto your main courses. You have made good time as of now, and have just under an hour of time left. You still think you have it in you?”

“I’ve already gone this far,” Peter said.

“That’s my boy. Your time resumes… now. Off you go.”

Peter grabbed his cart and ran back to the kitchen to prepare his entrees. Celestia gave Twilight and Spike another nod to some and have their own samples of Peter’s food, which Spike all but happily did.