PiE/HiE Short Stories - The Earth/Equus Treaties

New Dornhover, U.S.A | A MareDonalds 3 Blocks From Travail University

"Next, please." A voice that perpetually hovers on the cusp of depression calls out.

There she is. Glowing in the radiant backlight of the flickering machines, beeping with every new order. Eyes as vividly green as the flickering lights on the machines behind her, with hair as gold as the freshest fried fries.

Andrew, a local student at the nearby university, can feel his heart quicken and stomach bristle with butterflies. She's actually working today. Today, he'd do it.

Maredonalds, the Capitalist merger of Ponies adapting to Human fast-food, and the first pony-ran establishment for such services on Earth. Part of a Labor act that offered guaranteed employment for Pony immigrants, with profits returned to Equestria to ensure no degradation of their economy.

Yeah, he had no idea how it worked either. But that didn't matter. Ever since he moved to this area, a hasty decision to skip packing a lunch one morning, and instead opting for fast food, lead Andrew to a road unlike any he'd driven before.

Love.

It's been about a week and some since he first saw her. It's a careful balance, trying to figure out when a complete stranger works without coming off as a stalker.

"Next, please." She repeats.

Oh, right. That's him! With a deep breath, he steadies himself and steps forward.

"Welcome to Maredonalds, the first Earth-Equestrian Business Venture, here to bring you the best meal, the best way. What can I get started for you today, sir?" She slowly prattles off with the enthusiasm of a father who just spent his family's Christmas money on the slots, and lost; it's a phrase she probably says a hundred times a day, with the singsong tone of someone whose dreams died when they saw their student loans, and who needed a cup of water three hours ago.

To Andrew, the voice of an angel.

The only thing he knew about her, other than her radiant, down to not-earth-because-she's-a-pony beauty, was her name.

Because it was on her name tag, sat pinned on her uniform, right below the title 'Cashier'.

Gleaming Glare.

"Uhm..." Andrew mumbles, eyes fervently glancing between the menu, and the mare. There's a lump in his throat, and swallowing doesn't get rid of it. Does he order, then ask? Does he play it cool and ask first, then still order? Man, it's warm in here. He tugs at his shirt collar, sweating. Does he order at all? Should he have stood in line if he didn't plan to order, and should have asked from the side? Was it weird to try and get a number, and then just get a meal right after?

"...Sir?" Her droll tone snaps him out of it, as she watches him with a bored, disinterested stare.

"I, er..." Andrew tries to clear his throat, mentally bracing himself. Screw the meal, man. Just ask for her number. Hang on, that's old school. You're supposed to offer your own number now, right? Wait. But would that bother the people behind him, waiting in line to not even order? No, don't worry about it, just --

"...Sir." She asks again, slower this time. She's tilting her head, her ears flicking ever so slightly in professionally-muted annoyance.

God, she's adorable.

He can't do this.

He can do this.

Fuck it, Andrew. Go for it. Be a man!

"Could I, uh... order... your number?" Andrew manages to stutter out, leaning on the countertop, smiling like a dumbass.

"My number isn't on the menu, sir." She promptly replies without skipping a beat. She doesn't even blink.

There's an awkward cough somewhere behind him.

"Oh, no, I meant... like, uh..." Andrew tries to recover, but he's on the doomed path now.
"W-When I said order, I-I meant-- " The opportunity has been missed, and the judgement of the line has all but shattered his remaining confidence.

"The Number Twelve is a popular choice that I can recommend." She explains flatly, pointing at the menu with a hoof. Double-Patty burger with a fry and a drink, bacon and cheese. Staple.

"No -- well, maybe, but I --" Andrew fumbles, desperately trying to recover his method, his rhythm, anything.

"Also, our ice cream machine is broken." She adds.

Like the final crack to a breaking dam, Andrew's will breaks, visibly deflating. Slouching. Defeated.

"...A number twelve would be great, thanks." Andrew mumbles, dejected.

"To stay or to go?" She asks without looking, tapping out his order on the screen.

"To stay." He answers too quickly.

He meant to go.

Whatever. He'd just curl up in a corner, and waste away to the sands of time. Maybe they'd sweep him up and put him in the dumpster, for added measure.

...

The pony stationed at the fryer settles the rack to hang over the bubbling oil, letting the fries cool. She almost burnt them, distracted while witnessing that absolute spectacle. Hope they liked crunchy fries.

Gleaming Glare is already helping the next customer, not a skip in her hoof-step as she lists the same greeting. It's like her brain is shut off.

Once there's a gap in the conversation, the fryer mare calls over, snapping Gleaming Glare out of her customer-service stupor.

"Ouch, Glare!" She giggles.

Glare slowly blinks, looking to her coworker.
"...What? Did you burn yourself?"

Bubble Barn, a much more colorful splash of pink and red compared to Glare's colors, awkwardly shoves the oversized cap back up her face, looking over her shoulder.
"That guy was trying to ask you out, you dense mare!" She snort-laughs, shaking her head as she rustled the feyer.

"...Oh. Oh?." Gleaming slowly works out, brow furrowed as her brain re-activates from just repeating store-brand dribble.
"Oh."

"A human and a pony. Could you imagine? Mare, what a way to shoot him down, though. Not on the menu... Ha!" Barn continues to laugh, starting to wrap a fresh burger. It takes her a few tries. Like Gleaming, she's an Earth Pony.

For some reason, Earth Ponies seem to take Retail and Customer Service jobs more often than the other tribes. A species pre-destined for miserable work, perhaps.

"..." Gleaming Glare is silent, staring at Bubbling Barn. Then the floor. Then, her eyes widen.

"Gleaming Glare. You're not imagining it right now, are you?" Bubbling Barn hisses in a hushed tone, stepping closer. She couldn't actually be considering this, could she?

"...Maybe a little." Glare quietly admits, tsking softly as she considers the ramifications.

"Glare. He's a human." Bubbling enunciates, setting the burger aside. She flips open a to-go bag to help make her point.

Glare knows what Barn means. Sure, they got along with the other as species, but there's an entire underlayer of oddity between their kinds. Not to mention the existence of Horses, something that threw the Ponies for a loop when they first heard about them, and makes some interactions between them feel more like the Human's almost want to view them as pets.

Getting asked for her number, though? That was a new one. Wonder if he was some kind of weirdo.

... The way he asked was pretty funny, though, now that she actually thought about it. Her gaze can't help but shift from the teeming, ever-growing lunchtime rush line to the back of the building, in the corner. The guy is hunched over his meal, staring at the wall and eating his food so slowly it might have a chance to go through the evolutionary chain and turn into something they could hire. He's not bad looking, as humans go. Probably. She had no idea what made a human attractive, really. He looks like he washes, at the least. That's a basic one.

Her and a Human. Could she really? What would that even be like? Not that she was ever even looking for love in the first place. Glare always thought she'd start looking once she actually landed a career, saved up enough money to cover her loans. A law degree wasn't cheap.

And what would her parents think?

... Actually, that would be pretty funny to see. Come back from Earth with a Law Degree and a Human Boyfriend. That'd throw her mom for a loop. A little get-back for that stunt she tried to pull with that one colt... what was his name, Shaken Bake? Not everypony wants to be a housewife, Mom.

"Hands." A third voice chimes in. The customer, a middle aged woman whose patiently waiting at the cash register, thumbing through her purse for an outdated coupon, offers aloud.

That catches both ponies attention, Glare from her thoughts, and Bubbling Barn from watching Glare actually consider this after such an egregious display.

"Hands?" Barn asks, confused. Glare follows her look, equally curious.

"You know. Fingers. Hands." The lady repeats, wiggling her own.

Glare and Bubble share a quiet look, before both purse their lips, letting their minds wander.

They don't quite get it at first, but the customer is master-class in holding up the line, giving them plenty of time to think about it.

And slowly...

...Their minds wander to certain places. Crass places. Particularly Barn's.

He's more than twice her size, most Ponies being waist-height to humans. A lot of looking up.

"...I may have judged too harshly." Bubbling Barn comments suddenly.

Glare doesn't even say anything. Though her mind may not have meandered down certain paths like Barn's did, who was now sporting a healthy glow of blush on her cheeks as her mind continues to roam, Glare was more interested in the man attached to the hands.

He was cute, admittedly, the longer she stares. A little bit of a mess, but the effort was there. Not like she exactly had a sparkling love-life to compare the attempt to, anyway.

"Cover the register for a second, would you?" Glaring Gleam suddenly says, stepping around the counter.

"W-wuhey! I'm still frying over here!" Barn objects, midway through placing another basket of fries into the oil. She grumbles as Gleaming doesn't stop, quickly wiping her hooves on her apron.
"Dense mare..."

...

Maybe he could move to another town. See if his school did transfers. If they didn't, he could sell everything he owns and just go live in the woods. Maybe after a decade of solitude, he could show his face in public again without being embarrassed.

Andrew groans, holding his head in his hands, slumped against the table, burger with a single bite in it. Hard to keep an appetite after a stunt like that.

Order her number. Smooth.

"Hey."

Seriously, what was he thinking? There were fifteen better ways to handle that, which he thought of all in the span of his shameful walk to his table.

"Hey."

Smooth recovery, too, Andrew. She's probably staring at you from the counter like everybody else. Actually, no, she's probably already forgotten all about you. Forgettable, and laughable.

"Dude. You got bad hearing or something?"

Andrew feels something nudge his side. He slowly lifts his dour face from his hands in surprise.

It's Gleaming Glare, staring up at him from beside his table. Did she--

"You forgot your drink." She says bluntly, scooting a McSproot closer towards him.

Oh.

"...Thanks." He mumbles, staring forward.

"So... order my number, huh?" She goads after a short pause, grinning as he visibly flinches.

He freezes completely still. Oh, god. Here it comes.

"Haven't heard that one before. Funny. A Pony? You a weirdo or something?" She asks, watching him with a raised brow.

"N-no..." Andrew quietly mutters.

"Then why me? Hm?" She continues to press, watching Andrew tug at his collar.

"I... thought you were really pretty." Is about all he can muster between a hard gulp.

"...Huh. Finding a Pony pretty? Yeah, weirdo." She snorts, smiling.

"No, I'm--"

She pokes at the drink she brought him, slowly turning it.

There's a number written on it.

"I get off at seven. Where you taking me?" Gleaming prompts expectantly, ear flicking as she stares.

Andrew only blinks, wide-eyed. Gleaming Glare watches him for a short moment, before hiding a snort-laugh behind her hoof.

"Alright. I'll give you some time to figure it out...?" She trails out, looking him over.

"O-oh, Andrew. I'm Andrew." He quickly stutters, holding out his hand.

For a handshake.

This fucking guy. Gleaming huffs, meeting it with her hoof.

"Alright, Andrew. Text me where we're going, when you figure it out. I'll be here. Seven." Gleaming says over her shoulder already turning to head back towards the counters.

She pauses mid walk-away, looking over her shoulder.
"P.M." She clarifies, just in case.

Andrew can only stare slackjawed as she leaves, most of his brain functions shattered after that.

She actually gave him her number.

Seven.

P.M.

Oh, fuck. He's only got a few hours to prepare. What the fuck is he going to do? He doesn't even have a car. Shit. Fuck. He scrambles up from his table, roughly grabbing his food as he heads for the door.

Gleaming only stares as he doubles back, nearly forgetting the drink with her number on it.

Barn can be heard snickering from behind the counter.

"Bubbling... Creamery. Come look at this." Gleaming calls from the counter. Barn, and Gleaming's shift replacement, Crumble Creamery, slowly emerge from the kitchens. It's been a few hours since Gleaming got back from her little jaunt, and Barn kept watching as Gleaming checked her phone far more times than she ever has while on a shift.

Now, they were gathering at the edge of the counter, to look outside the windows. The sun was starting to set, with Seven PM only minutes away. Most of the rush had died down, leaving a fairly quiet Maredonalds.

"Is that a bicycle?" Bubbling asks, brows raising.

"Yeah." Gleaming nods.

"No way. This is the guy you texted me about, Barn?" Creamery blinks several times, in the midst of putting on her apron.

"With... one of those human foal-holder trailer things strapped to the back of it?" Barn continues, eyes widening as she takes in more of the scene.

"It sure is." Creamery notes, barely stifling a laugh.

"There's no way he's actually picking you up in that." Barn objects, looking at Gleam.

They all watch as Andrew, glancing around nervously outside, quickly adjusts his tie, fumbling several times. He's wearing a suit. On a bicycle. With a trailer for towing kids attached to the back.

"Mare, when I said you'd be dense to give him your number..." Barn mumbles.

"Well, it's kind of novel, isn't it?" Gleaming comments aloud.

Silence falls over the Maredonalds.

Both Barn and Creamery's heads slowly turn to stare at Gleaming, like she just grew a second head. And then a third.

"Girl. Mare." Barn can hardly believe Gleaming is even considering this.
"This is like... I don't even have a joke for this, Gleaming."

Creamery on the other hand, is finding this nothing but amusing to the tenth degree.
"Look, it's even got a little shaded thing on the top." Creamery adds, pointing at the trailer. Compared to the bike, it looks brand new.
"He totally bought that for you like an hour ago."

"Glare. The bar. He's digging under it. Please." Barn tries to spare her friend from one of the biggest warning flags she's ever seen.

"...Buck it." Gleaming Glare starts untying her apron, pulling at the string with her teeth. Barn and Creamery's jaws drop.

"There's no way. Glare. Girl." Barn tries to object, Creamery dead silent and wide-eyed.

"I just pulled a double, Barn. I'd climb in the dumpster just to get out of this place any faster." Gleaming mutters. "At least I won't have to walk anywhere."

"Where's he taking you? A triathlon? The park? The woods? The Maredonalds just down the street?" Creamery guesses, Barn shaking her head.

"Olive Garden." Gleaming glances at her phone, reading their prior texts.

Barn face-hoofs, while Creamery shrugs.
"Hey, breadsticks."

"Just... text me so I know you guys didn't get hit by a car or something." Bubbling Barn finally sighs, rubbing her face with her hooves in defeat.

"Sure, sure. See you Mares." Gleaming gives a short wave as she rounds the counter, heading outside.

Barn and Creamery share a slow stare.

"... Is it a human thing?" Creamery asks.

"I have no idea, Creamery."

"...I could go for some breadsticks. Where's my weird human?"

"Keep working this job, and I'm sure you'll get one."

...

Oh, shit, here she comes. Andrew quickly double-checks himself, adjusting his collar, his tie.

He got the suit and tie at a thrift store, and got the bike-trailer from one of the nearby sport stores, spending the last hour figuring out how to attach it to his bike. By the time he got all that set, he forgot about where he was actually taking her.

Managed to squeeze in a reservation at the fanciest place he could afford. Italian, to boot.

Somehow, she looks even more beautiful. Seeing her with her apron slung over herself, her saddlebag of belongings peeking out from under it as she approaches.

"...Fancy." She comments as she pauses a foot away from him, smirking at the trailer.

"Well, you can't really fit on my bike, and I thought..." Andrew mumbles, scratching his head.

"It's... creative, I'll give you that." Gleaming snorts. The jarring difference between the way they were dressed only added to her amusement. Him in an oversized suit that didn't fit him, and her in a Maredonalds uniform.
"So... how do I get on it?"

"Oh--here." Andrew quickly steps beside it, holding a hand out.

Like a modern-day noble lifting his lady to a carriage, Gleaning tentatively steps up and into the trailer, getting comfortable. Surprisingly spacious, even if she had to sit a little strangely to get settled.

"Sweet Celestia, I'm glad to be off my hooves." Gleaming Glare groans, sinking into her little chariot.

Andrew can't help but sheepishly smile. She looks adorable.
"Ready to go?"

"Sure. I hope you can stomach watching a mare absolutely demolish a basket of breadsticks."

"...Honestly, I was planning on doing the same." Andrew smiles, laughing.

Gleaming Glare hums, watching the human climb onto the bike, peek around, and start peddling.

Might not be so bad after all, silly man and all.

...

Gleaming is absolutely belly-laughing as they stumble out of the restaurant. Andrew is scrunching up his apron, a sour frown on his face, tossing it at the closest bin. To say the date went terribly was an understatement.

"Dude -- they -- h-how did you get roped into working as a server for the evening?!" Gleaming barely manages, holding her own stomach. At one point, she even snorts, which only sends her further spiraling int of fit of giggles.

Andrew's outfit didn't proclaim fancy-date, it proclaimed late busboy to his shift. Without being able to get a word in, he spent their entire date working a shift at a store he didn't even work at, trying his best to pitstop near Gleaming whenever he could -- much to her amusement.

She hadn't stopped smiling since, even if Andrew felt like an absolute goober. He's sore, tired, cranky, and feeling like the entire thing was a bust. She'd probably never want to talk to him again after that stunt.

A hoof taps his leg, catching his attention.
"You've, uh... got something on your cheek." She snickers, motioning for him to lower himself down.

"Oh. Thanks." Andrew goes to wipe it with a sleeve, but she smacks his leg, urging him down again.

"Let me get it, dumbass. I'm trying to do something to cheer you up, here." She rolls her eyes.

"O-oh." Andrew mumbles, leaning against his knees.

Gleaming plants a quick peck against his cheek, grinning at him as she trots back to her 'carriage', still locked up on the closest bike rack, climbing into the trailer. She seems pretty comfy at this point.

"Well? Going to take me home?" She leers, watching him.

"Y-yeah. Sorry about all this." Andrew sighs.

"You're sorry? For the funniest date I think I've ever been on? Psh. When's the next?" She asks.

Andrew stops mid-leg-swing over his bike, frozen solid, eyes wide.
"The... next?"

"Mhm." Gleaming grins at him, head leant on her hoof.

...

The back door is already unlocked, Barn in early for the morning shift she shares with Gleaming. As it shuts behind her, hooves clacking on the tiles, Barn sprints around the corner the moment she starts making noise.

"Gleaming!" Barn exclaims, quickly hugging her fellow mare -- before pulling them apart, holding by the shoulders.
"Details. How terrible was it?"

"I think that was the best date I've ever been on, honestly." Gleaming says bluntly, still smiling. She steps around Barn, revving up the fryers.

Barn blinks several times. She works in a stupor the rest of the day, trying to process...

Andrew visits at some point during Gleaming's shift, bringing her lunch. It's a bag of fast food from a neighboring franchise. Gleaming loves it, glad she doesn't have to snack on MareDonalds again for lunch, the two eating at one of the tables during her break.

... That.