Work Text:
“What’s for dinner, DeLuca?”
“Enchiladas.”
“Mmm smells delici—ow!”
“I’ll let you know when you can dip your fingers in my sauce, Guerin. Go set the table.”
“Yes, ma’—”
“MOTHERFUCKER!”
“Alex? You okay, babe?”
“Whoa, kitty! What's the matt—ow, claws! Ow.”
“Exactly!”
“Venom, no claws, dude! Why’d you scare her?!”
“C’mere, girl, come to mama, such a good kitty—”
“She scared me first, Michael! For the love of Brendan Urie, please start shutting our dresser drawers completely, k? I need my fingers unsliced.”
“Sorry, love. I’ll make it up to you?”
“You bet your sweet alien ass you will.”