Home Alone [Paradise] [Part 5] [PiE/NEETpone #50]


                                            [5 minutes earlier...]

                                            >Okokokok.. Stir the sauce.

                                            >Looking good Paradise. Almost there.

                                            >Anon should be heading home about now, so that gives you just enough time to bowl up the spagoot and sauce before he gets back. Might even have time to spare if you get it done quickly.

                                            >Clicking off the knobs on the cooker, you grab your pasta pan and shimmy on over to the sink with it before draining your spaghetti through a siv into the sink.

                                            >Putting the spaghetti back into the now empty pan you cooked it in, you put it on the side by the cooker and begin the tricky bit.

                                            >Adding the sauce.

                                            >Fishing your ladle down into the big ol’ pot of sauce, you grab a scoop full and dump it into the pan with the pasta and use a set of chopsticks out of the drawer to mix the two together into a tomato-y pasta-y cheesy-y goodness.

                                            >Using booth hooves, you turn the pasta together with the sauce with an unreasonable amount of concentration before giving yourself a nod of approval.

                                            >Man, you’ve actually done a pretty good job, this smells awesome.

                                            >… You’re missing something though.. What is it?

                                            >Oh, right, the parmesan to top it off, that must be it..

                                            >Using your ladle and chopsticks, you try your best to attempt a serving trick you saw some guy do on YouTube a while ago when he made some squid ink spaghetti (see 4:33: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rPdln-PUZuE)

                                            >You don’t have the BBQ tongs, but your weeb noodle twigs seem to do a pretty fine job aside from being a little bit tricky to hold while you’ve got a ladle in the other hoof.

                                            >Moving your newly made dish over to the spot where you eat breakfast at the kitchen counter, you manage to pull of a wee bit of a balancing act with both bowls in your hooves at once and place them down carefully with a little *dink* on the countertop.

                                            >Hurridly making your way to the fridge to grab your parmesan, you quickly grab your grater from the counter and top both of them with the cheese as your wings flutter frantically to maintain height at the counter as you hear a click at the door and the sounds of Anon making his way into the house.

                                            >Oh thank Celestia you actually did i-.. Waiddaminnit.. Crap! The meatballs!

                                            >Dropping down from the air in a panic, your hooves thud down on the floor, knocking over a stool as you run to the oven in a panic.

                                            >Opening it up, you get a big waft of heat in the face that blinds you briefly as you flutter back blindly and bump into some things before grabbing your teatowel and hastily grabbing the hot tray of meatballs from the oven while still partially blinded.

                                            “Ow, ow, ow!”

                                            >With a slight slip of the teatowel, the tray brushes your foreleg, heat instantly burning you slightly, and in a panic – It happens.

                                            “AH SHI-.. AHH, NO!“

                                            >All at once, before you can even stop it, the tray flies from your hooves and crashes across the counter before wiping out both bowls of pasta you just prepared.

                                            >*CRASH*

                                            >*CRTSHHH!*

                                            >Throwing yourself forward in a desperate attempt to prevent the inevitable, you hit the deck, and your bowls of spaghetti come down on you, giving you a set of spaghetti dreadlocks, a shiny blue bowl for a hat, and another upside down bowl splattered across your hoof and sweater.

                                            >What.

                                            >Just.

                                            >Happened.

                                            >You can do nothing but sit in shock as you feel your eyes welling up in tears.

                                            >Before you can even begin to process any of this, you just flop down onto the floor into your spaghetti and sauce and let out a faint whimper.

                                            >All of your hard work, ruined.

                                            >Hearing hurried footsteps making their way towards your general direction followed by an all familiar voice, you just bury your head in your hooves and try not to cry.

                                            >”Paradise? What in the name of God was tha..- Waiddaminnit, when did you become a Pastafarian? Ra-men, sister.”

                                            >You just scrunch up further under your bowl of shame. You have become the big sad.

                                            >You can’t even cook dinner on your own, you absolute failure.

                                            >As you sit, wallowing in your own spaghetti, you feel a familiar hand on your back.

                                            >"It'll be right mate, no harm done. I brought us some pizza home anyways, so we can still have dinner together, right?"

                                            "B-but I messed it all up, I- *sniff* I just wanted to do something nice for you.."

                                            >You feel positively awful.

                                            >This definitely is not what you were going for. A mess and a cry.

                                            >Pausing for a moment, Anon snaps his fingers.

                                            >"Idea! Gimme a sec.."

                                            ".. Y-yeah..?"

                                            >With a groan, Anon gets up and grabs the pizza boxes from the counter, he sits back on the floor next to you.

                                            >Hearing that distinct *sphh* noise of a pizza box opening, Anon pulls out a slice, dips it in your spaghetti dreads, and takes a bite.

                                            >"See, good shit. You should try some. You're delicious!"

                                            >With a giggle mixed among your tears and sniffles, you playfully give Anon a little punch in the arm.

                                            "h-heh.. A-anon! That's gross."

                                            >"If I have to be gross to cheer you up, then so be it. Your sauce is cash money though."

                                            "I-it is..?"

                                            >"Mhm. Hey, why don't we put some of it in a bowl and have it as dunking sauce with the pizza after we get you cleaned up? Can stick on Super Troopers and have a cosy night on the couch? Pizza and a shitpost of a movie is always a good time."

                                            >Despite everything that has just unfolded, a night on the couch with Anon would really add a silverlining to this otherwise quite sucky evening.

                                            "T-that would be nice.. n.. A-anon..?

                                            >"Yeah?"

                                            "C-could you carry me upstairs so I don't get sauce everywhere on my way to the bathroom?"

                                            >With a smile and a nod, Anon picks himself up and stretches a little.

                                            >"Of course. Just so you don't sauce-up the house."

                                            >Reaching your arms up, you put your sauce-covered hooves around his neck as he leans down to pick you up in an effort to support yourself [spoiler]and also give Anon a slight sly-cuddle[/spoiler].

                                            >With an eyebrow wiggle followed by a slight eye roll and smile, Anon scoops his arms under your flank and lifts you up to begin the journey upstairs.

                                            >You feel your anxiety slowly melt away as you hold yourself closer to Anon and listen to his heartbeat as the pair of you make your way to the bathroom.

                                            >"Y'know, I'm starting to think you've done this on purpose. I know how you have a thing for being carried around. We'll have to get one of those baby-carrier things to strap to my chest one of these days."

                                            >You feel yourself starting to blush again as you bury your head even deeper into Anons chest.

                                            "I-is it bad that I actually half like that idea?"

                                            >"Yes. Very, very, very bad. One of the worst. Not happening compadre."

                                            "Awwwwe.."

                                            >Fumbling with his foot while trying to nudge the bathroom door open while leaning on the handle with his other hand, you can't help but have a little giggle to yourself as you reach out and just open the door for him and tip your invisible fedora.

                                            "M'gentleman"

                                            >"Christ, give me strength, you need to stop going on 4chan so much. You going to have a bath or a shower?"

                                            "Umm.. Shower I think. Will be easier to get this to all just wash away.. Bath would be like sitting in a big watery sauce pot methinks."

                                            >"Alrighty then, tell you what, while you wash up, I'll go and sort the kitchen situation out and sort the couch out. Sound like a plan?"

                                            "S-sure thing! [spoiler]nwn[/spoiler]"

                                            >"Cool beans, I'll grab you a towel before I head back down so you don't go ass over elbow again. I'll be a minute."

                                            >As Anon heads out to grab the towels you mutter something out under your breath.

                                            "[spoiler]Y-you could a-always just stay a-and keep an eye on me..[/spoiler]"

                                            >Poking his head back into the bathroom he gives you a puzzled look.

                                            >"Huh, sorry.. What was that?"

                                            >Oh God, you thought he was already in the bedroom.

                                            "N-NOTHING! J-just talking to myself!"

                                            >Heading back out, his voice trails as he makes his way into the other room.

                                            >"Ahh, suuuuuure.."

                                            >W-whew.. That was a close one.. If ponies could shit bricks.. Why did you even say that..?

                                            >.. Nevermind.

                                            >Taking off your headband and sweatshirt, you chuck them both into the bathroom sink and turn the shower on.

                                            >Turning the shower on, you feel the cold water run over you and progressively warm up as your fur runs red with the sauce of your enemies.

                                            >Feelsgoodman.

                                            >Hearing the door creak open, you squat down in the tub and hide yourself behind the shower screen as Anons hand reaches into the bathroom and starts feeling around for the shower rail before hearing an "Ow, y'shit!" as he seemingly finds it and remembers that it's heated.

                                            >With a little giggle you shout out to him "Y-you okay Anon?"

                                            >"Yup. Who'dda thought that heated towel rails get hot?"

                                            >Seeing his hand reaching back in, this time with the towels, he shimmies them over the rail and goes to head downstairs before you remember your clothes in the sink.

                                            "Anon! Mind grabbing my clothes out of the sink and throwing them in the wash for me so it doesn't stain?"

                                            >"Gotcha."

                                            >Return of the reachy hand part 2 electric bugaloo.

                                            "A-anon.. Just come in the bathroom."

                                            >"You sure? You decent in there?"

                                            "Anon, I'm covered in fur and I don't wear pants half of the time."

                                            >"Alright, good point. Just like to make sure. Coming in, hide yo business."

                                            >With one hand over his eyes, Anon makes his way into the bathroom and exaggeratedly waves his arm around while feeling for the sink before turning his back to you and grabbing your stuff with both arms out of the sink.

                                            >And you think you're a derp sometimes, kek.

                                            "You're silly sometimes Anon."

                                            >"Wouldn't like me if I wasn't. See you when you're cleaned up and dressed."

                                            >As Anon heads out of the bathroom, you stand back up and begin the process of cleaning yourself off and letting the stress of your cooking-exploits wash away in the process, leaving nothing but a slightly hollow and weird chest feeling behind.

                                            >While cleaning off, your mind starts to wander a little, and you can't help but realise that Anon kinda does have a point with that whole clothing/being "decent" thing.

                                            >You tend to find yourself feeling.. Well.. Naked without at least a sweater on, and you have taken a liking to shorts and skirts lately.. You did dip down behind the shower screen afterall.

                                            >Suppose wearing clothing so often for most of your life has kinda had that effect.

                                            >Humans definitely have the right idea with clothes. Whenever you've been home to visit you always feel super awkward seeing ponies without despite growing up there. Kinda funny now you think about it.

                                            >And other ponies say *you're* the weird one.

                                            >[...]