Work Text:
PETER 3 POV
"Ow ow ow!" Peter One let out a hiss, dropping the pan on the stove. "That thing's hot!"
Peter Two raised an eyebrow. "It just came out of the oven; what did you expect?"
"He expected it to be immediately cooled off by his cold, cold heart, obviously," Peter chimed in. He scooped a cookie off the pan and tossed it into his mouth, then immediately let out a screech. "Tha' 'hing's ho' !"
"I'm going to pretend you didn't just do and exactly what I know you did." Peter Two calmly picked up the pan with an oven mitt and scooped them onto a cooling rack with a spatula. "I'd think that living on your own would teach you a thing or two about domestic skills."
"Well, sure. I can use a sewing machine with the best of them." Peter One shrugged. "But have you ever heard of microwave meals? You don't burn yourself on those."
"Yeah, but this was totally worth the burn. My mouth is already healing. See?" Peter stuck his tongue out for inspection. I love being a superhero: enhanced healing for all of my dumb ideas.
Peter Two raised an eyebrow in amusement. "I don't want to know what you two would be like unsupervised in the kitchen."
"Hey, I bet we could make a meal just fine on our own. Don't you think, Peter?"
Peter One blinked. "Uh, well, I don't know--I mean--"
"Of course we can." Peter placed his hands on his younger counterpart's shoulders and grinned over his head at their older brother. "I bet we could even do it without a recipe." He grabbed Peter Two's elbow and steered him out of the kitchen. "You just go put your feet up, read the Daily Bugle or something, and we'll make dinner."
Peter Two protested. "I don't think that's such a--"
"Well be fine. Promise. Don't worry." Peter patted his brother's back and gave him a gentle shove. "We'll call you if we have an emergency."
"Define emergency ."
When their brother was finally out of the room, Peter turned back to the kitchen, dusting his hands together. "All right. Where do we start?"
Peter One was still standing next to the stove. "I'm not sure that we can do this. Have you ever cooked before?"
"Of course. Yeah." Peter moved to the refrigerator and opened the door, biting his lip in nervous concentration. "Well, technically...no. But I've seen Aunt May do it countless times; it can't be that hard, right?" He spotted a familiar cardboard carton. "Eggs! See? I'm feeling great about this already." He pulled out the item in question and set it on the counter.
Peter One leaned against the counter, hovering his hand nervously over the eggs until he finally settled it on his hip. "So...uh...what do you do with them?"
Peter squinted. "Well, you crack them into a bowl, obviously."
"Yeah...but what do you do with them? Like, what are we gonna cook?"
"I was hoping you had an idea." Peter braced his hands on the counter and lowered his head in thought. "I guess we could just make some scrambled eggs?"
Peter One nodded, eyebrows raised. "That sounds good." He reached into the fridge and rummaged around until he pulled out a pepper. "Aunt May, she...she always put peppers in my eggs." He gave a small, wavering smile.
"Yeah. Mine too." Peter tossed his head and returned the smile. "And onion." He opened a cabinet next to the oven and pulled out a skillet. "How big of a pan do we need?"
"I dunno. How many eggs are you gonna make?"
Peter squinted at the pan, then exchanged it for a size larger. He placed it on the stove...and the handle broke off in his hand. Nuts, nuts, double nuts. "Um...we may have a slight problem."
Peter One bit his lip, but his chin quivered with suppressed laughter. "That might, uh, be more than a slight problem."
"What's this about a problem?" Peter Two's voice approached, and Peter shot out of the room. "No, nothing, it's--we're fine." He placed a hand on his older brother's chest and gently shoved. "Everything's under control, I promise." He held his breath and watched until the older man was back on the couch, feet propped on the coffee table, comic book in hand.
"Okay, we're good," He said, reentering the kitchen.
Peter One was still staring at the pan. "I...don't know that good is the word I'd use."
"Sure it is." Peter held the handle in its spot and clicked his web shooter a couple of times. "See? Good as new."
"Yeah...okay." The kid still didn't look convinced, but he turned away to the counter and picked up a knife. "May would definitely have had a heart attack if you did that to one of her pans."
Peter turned on the heat and tossed in some butter. "I'm pretty sure that's how May always did it," He muttered.
A sniff from somewhere behind him caused him to turn around, and his stomach clenched when he saw something wet drip from Peter One's chin. "Hey, man...you okay?"
Peter One's head jerked up. "Y-yeah, why?"
"Aw, c'mere, man." Peter pulled his brother into his arms and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. His throat tightened. "I know you miss her. I know it's hard."
"No, I'm not--"
"Shh, I know it hurts." Peter pinched his lips together, eyes burning. Poor kid . "It'll be okay, I promise."
"No, no, you don't understand." Peter One pulled away and rubbed his eyes with the backs of his wrists.
"It's hard to believe that other people can understand what you're going through, but I do , remember? I do." Peter forced a shaky smile. "I've been there. You know that."
Peter One blinked and shook his head. "I'm not crying, man." He swallowed and let out an awkward chuckle. "I mean, I am crying, but...not because of that." He lifted a hand. "I...I found an onion. I was cutting it up to put in the eggs."
"Oh." Peter cleared his throat and nodded several times. You idiot. "That...yeah, that makes sense." He stood there, opened his mouth to say something else, then thought better of it. Stop nodding. You're making this awkward.
Something sizzled and popped, and Peter One gestured toward the stove. "I, uh, I think your butter is melted."
"Oh. Right." Peter moved back to the stove and cleared his throat. Eggs. Scrambled eggs. Okay. I can do this. He hesitantly picked up an egg, took a deep breath, and gently tapped it on the edge of the skillet.
"I should be making webs out of the membranes," He muttered. "They're definitely strong enough." He cleared his throat and tried again. This time, a hairline crack could be seen. Third time's charm, right? He tapped it again, and the shell split, sliding down both the inside and the outside of the pan. "No!" He yelped, trying to scoop up the spilled yolk with his fingers.
"Need some help?" Peter One dropped his knife and came to hover over the stove. "I could--do you need me to--uh--"
"Uh, yeah, I could use a paper towel." Peter reached into the pan and gingerly picked up the half of the egg shell that had fallen into the butter. He accepted the towel that Peter One brought and wiped his dripping fingers. "Thanks. Hey, while you're here, does that look like a tiny piece of shell down in there to you?"
Peter One squinted and looked where Peter pointed. "I...I think so?"
"That didn't sound convinced."
"Well, I'm not convinced. It could be butter...I guess? But I'm not a cook, man, how should I know?"
Crap. Peter scowled and let out a huff. "All right, I'm going in." He carefully reached into the skillet but jerked back with a yelp. "That pan is hot!"
Peter One burst out laughing. "No way! I thought it'd be cold after you melted butter in it!"
"Shut up." It's really good to see you laugh, kid. "Egg shells have a lot of calcium in them, right? It won't bother us to eat it. Give us strong...bones." Makes perfect sense.
"How are you doing in there?" Peter Two's voice called from the other room. "Need some help?"
"Uh, yeah, we're fine!" Peter made quick work of the egg still on the stovetop, then picked up another egg and poised it over the skillet. "We're doing great." I think. He turned to Peter One. "Do you know how to do this?"
The kid jerked forward and grabbed the egg. "Uh, well, I think all Aunt May did was just tap it, and then once it gets cracked, you just...kinda...push on it. And then pull it apart. Like this. See?" He pulled another egg out of the carton and handed it to Peter. "Here, you try it again."
Did you really just talk to me like I'm a child? "Nah, no, I’m-I’m good. I think you've got it under control. I'll just...go...cut the pepper."
"Yeah, sure, o-okay." Peter One turned back to the stove and Peter stared at the knife on the counter. What have I gotten us into?
^*^*^*^*^
"Ta-da!" Peter waved his hands over the food spread out on the table and gave his signature cheesy half-grin, half-grimace.
"Looks...delicious." Peter Two smiled and took his seat at the head of the table. "I'm impressed, you even cut the apples into such nice...chunks."
Peter One gave Peter a nervous glance and clasped his hands behind his back, biting his lip. "Yeah, we, uh, we kinda took turns doing everything. Here, have some eggs." He dished some onto Peter Two's plate and stepped back, shifting from foot to foot.
"I really like the color." Peter Two scooped up a forkful and shoved it into his mouth. "Green eggs are such a...nice change from yellow."
"Yeah, sorry, the onions are a little crunchy, too." Peter rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. "Not bad for the first time, huh?"
Peter Two grinned and forked some more into his mouth. "Tally-ho."