Work Text:
Too Many Raisins
February 2020
When Happy lets himself into the apartment after another long day, he’s almost knocked over by a strange smell. To him, it smells like a mixture of burnt oranges and overcooked raisins--way too many raisins. Of course, this can only mean one thing.
May is baking again.
He’s debating if he should quietly sneak back out of the apartment and to his car where he can safely text May that he’s working overtime, or if he should play sick and go to bed early when she appears from the doorway to the kitchen wearing his way too big apron that’s looped once around her waist and tied in the front. She looks too adorable to lie to.
“Perfect!” she says, grinning at him. “I just pulled these new bars out of the oven. I think they really turned out!”
He smiles even though his insides are panicking. The last bar she made didn’t exactly agree with him, and he’s not really looking forward to another sleepless night. He sets his briefcase by the door while he thinks of something good to say. “Maybe we can wait till after dinner? I don’t want to spoil my meal.”
“Don’t worry about that,” she says, grabbing his hand and tugging him towards the kitchen. “I cut them into smaller pieces this time.”
Happy loves May. He really does. It’s just that her cooking and baking is one hundred percent going to be the death of him. She’s pulled him to the oven where a pan is sitting on top, looking innocent enough, but when he peers into it, he knows this won’t end well. He’s not sure what exactly she put in these bars besides clearly a ton of raisins, but they look like some sort of defunct, overdone brownie with strange ingredients poking out through the top.
“Has Peter tried these?” he decides to ask. The kid has a stomach of steel, so if he can get it down and keep it down, maybe Happy might have a small chance of surviving.
She lets go of his hand to grab a few small plates from the cabinet. “He said he was full and locked himself in his room. He’ll come out for dinner, don’t worry.”
Happy thinks it’s because Peter knows who usually cooks dinner, and it’s not May. There doesn’t really seem to be any way out of eating a weird bar, so Happy swallows the lump in his throat and accepts the plate from May. “Uh, what kind of bars are these? I think I smell some sort of citrus flavor.”
May grins. “Oh, good! The orange was actually supposed to be a glaze, but I forgot and mixed it in with the rest. At least the flavor won’t be lost! Besides that, it called for raisins, but I accidentally dumped a few too many in the mix. Almonds or marshmallows weren’t exactly in the recipe, but I had those lying around, so I threw them in, too. Then when I took it out, it was a little syrupy with the glaze mixed in, so I put it in for another ten minutes. That seemed to harden them up!”
Harden them up was right, he thinks, looking down at the misshapen lump that sort of resembles a bar. He’ll be lucky if he doesn’t break a tooth.
His heart beating faster, he pinches the bar between his fingers and raises it to his mouth. But before he can take a bite, Peter comes skidding into the kitchen, his socks sliding against the smooth floor.
“Is dinner ready y—” Peter’s face drops when he sees the scene before him, and it’s clear that it’s not dinner time.
May puts her hands on her hip. “I thought you said you weren’t hungry!”
Peter grins a guilty smile, taking a few steps backwards and away from the baked goods. “What’s with this eating dessert before dinner anyway, May? Isn’t that like against the rules or something? I came out for something healthy, not sugar.” He flexes his bicep. “Gotta stay strong and all that.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” She rolls her eyes. “Happy hasn’t even started cooking yet. We haven’t even discussed what we’re making. Are you going to eat a bar or not?”
Peter’s eyes flit to Happy’s, and they send each other identical ‘save me’ looks.
Happy decides right then and there if he’s going to suffer, so is Peter. It’s only fair. “Come over here, kid,” he says before May gets suspicious that they’re both staring at each other. “You like raisins, don’t you?”
Peter’s face falls into an expression of complete betrayal, but he schools his features before May notices. “Uh, I’m not sure,” he says, taking small steps towards where May and Happy are standing by the oven.
“Geez,” May says, handing Peter a second small plate with a bar on it. “You two act like you don’t want to eat them. I know I’ve made some mistakes in the baking department in the past, but I promise I’m not trying to poison either of you. Will you just try them?”
Happy and Peter give each other panicked expressions. This is what they’ve been trying to avoid. Neither one of them want May to know that they’d rather go hungry than eat her baked goods. Happy’s the first one to shove the bar into his mouth. He figures if he chews it quickly and swallows it in one bite, it won’t be as bad. Peter sees him put the bar into his mouth and makes the fatal mistake of biting off a small corner of his bar.
“So?” May says, looking between them.
Happy barely tasted it, and he’s probably going to regret that later, but he did get enough information to give her a little feedback. “Tastes like raisins,” he says because that’s definitely true. He wants to tell her it was pretty good, but he also doesn’t want her to think he really likes it, and she should make it again. “Not too bad, actually. I definitely tasted the orange glaze even though it was mixed in.”
May smiles at him and pats his cheek fondly. “Thanks, Happy. I know I’m not the best baker. But I really tried with these.” She turns to Peter who is still holding the majority of his bar between his fingers. “And what about you?”
Peter puts on a forced smile. “It’s better than the pineapple mint cookies you made last weekend,” he offers. “Can we have burgers for dinner?”
May takes the plate from Peter and sets it on the counter before turning to face Happy. “What do you think? We can test out the new grill you got for the patio.”
Burgers actually sound great, and Happy has been itching to turn on the grill. “That’s fine, but Peter’s going to have to go out and grab some buns. I think we have everything else.”
Peter makes a move towards his room. “On it!” he says before dashing away and out of sight around the corner.
“Walk to the store like a normal person!” Happy yells after him. There’s no reply, and he sighs, setting his plate down besides where May had left Peter’s. “That kid is gonna give me a heart attack.”
“Oh, come on,” May says, leaning into him and getting on her toes to kiss him. “He’s just going to the store, and it’s still daylight. It’s not so bad.”
Happy wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her closer. “You’re not the one who has to suffer through Tony’s daily interrogations on his Friendly Neighborhood adventures. What am I supposed to tell Tony if Peter runs into some sort of trouble getting to the store and back?”
“He won’t,” she assures him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “But why don’t you send him a text to be sure. Better yet, have Tony text him.”
“No way. Then I gotta tell Tony that we didn’t stop him from swinging to the store just to get buns. I’ll text him myself.”
BONUS:
Happy: To the store and back. NO STOPS. If you get hurt, you only get one burger.
Peter: That’s really mean! But I’ll be back in ten minutes
Happy: NO TEXTING AND SWINGING!
Peter: Says the person texting me when he knows I’m swinging!