Chapter Text
It’s not every day you share a meal with a large man made of rocks,
Peter thinks, scraping his metal fork through his lump of potatoes. The utensil makes a loud squeak as the silver slices make contact with the plate. The stone-man in question, Ben, eyes his fork cautiously from across the table as he does so. Peter cringes.
To his right, Johnny balances a baby on his lap, who Peter has now learned is called Franklin and is the child of Reed and Sue. Sue is Johnny’s sister. What he hasn’t figured out, however, is where the rock guy comes in to play.
“So, erm-” Peter clears his throat, wiping a handkerchief across his mouth, “What brings you here?”
Johnny snorts into Franklin’s fuzzy bear hat.
Ben stares blankly at him, “I live here.” He deadpans.
“Right.” He nods, then repeats, quieter, “Right.”
“What brings you here?”
“A- uh,” Peter clears his throat nervously, “a space monster.”
“Ah.” Ben nods, his neck making a soft, crumbling sound as he does. Franklin coos at the sound, reaching a grubby hand out towards the man.
Sue glares at Peter from the seat facing Johnny. The sleeve of her knit sweater nearly goes into his plate when she attempts to take a bite without peeling her eyes away from the stranger.
Distantly, Peter wishes the space creature would come back and swallow him whole.
Reed clears his throat, “The results of your DNA test should be ready in around an hour, so of course, you’re welcome to hang around a bit after dinner.”
Peter nods, trying his best to shoot the man a friendly smile, “Thank you. I can er- I can wash dishes if it’s okay with uh-” He tips his head toward the vague direction of the robot, which stands idly in the kitchen.
“Herbie.” Johnny supplies helpfully.
“-Herbie.”
“Well, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind, would you, Herb?” The robot nods enthusiastically, “And of course, Johnny wouldn’t mind lending a hand.”
The man in question gives an affirming grunt while chewing. Franklin tries his best to bubble out a mimic of a similar sound.
As it turns out, Johnny is, honestly, little to no help with household chores, Peter thinks, as he passes a washed dish to Johnny, only for him to stare at it, clearly perplexed about what to do with it.
His solution: hand the dish to Herbie to put away.
“He’s useful,” Peter thinks out loud, eyes tracing the robot as it glides across the kitchen, plate held carefully in its claws.
“‘Perks of having a genius for a brother-in-law.”
“So, what? Kitchen robots aren’t a social norm here?” Peter asks, half-humorously, and half curiously.
Johnny snorts at that, “Yeah, no. Only in Reed Richard’s kitchen -Though it’s more Herb’s kitchen than anyone else here.” He adds.
“I’ve never seen a robot-- before, I came here, I mean,” Peter remarks, reverting his gaze from Herbie back to Johnny.
“Really?” He scrunches his nose, “I mean, they aren’t exactly a household classic around here, but you’ll see them here and there.”
Peter hums, unconvinced and hands the man a bowl. Johnny passes it behind him without a second thought. The bowl misses Herbie by an inch and shatters into dozens of shiny pieces on the floor. Herbie trills frantically and rushes towards the nearest closet.
Peter chuckles, “I can see why Herbie was put in the kitchen.”
“Why?” Johnny asks curiously, stepping aside so the small robot can sweep the porcelain shards with his newly acquired dustpan and broom.
“Because you’d burn the place down without him.”
“Hey! I’ll have you know I can make a mean bowl of cereal.” The blonde grins wildly.
Peter laughs out loud.
A beat passes.
“You do have cereal on your earth, right?” Johnny asks hesitantly.
“What? Yeah, of course!”
Johnny squints, almost as if he doesn’t quite believe him. Peter laughs, “I promise, we do!”
“Alright, alright,” He throws his hands up, “But I’m on to you.” The blonde finishes with a wink.
A warm feeling, accompanied by a soft tug on the corners of his mouth, lingers as Peter returns to his tedious work of scubbing the final dish, a beige porcelain piece with a navy blue trim. It reminds him of an embroidered keychain he had seen on Gwen’s backpack all those years ago, back in New York —back in Peter’s New York.
Gwen Stacy.
The girl he had kissed on the top of a New York skyscraper, beneath hundreds of stars. The soft brown leather of his jacket had brushed carelessly against the delicate blue yarn of her sweater: the pleased sigh she had released as their mouths met, her light giggle as they released.
Laid out like a movie, it was the perfect shot. The first step towards a loving, lifelong relationship.
Until it wasn’t.
Until the shot morphed into fights and late nights away from the house, and a man on Peter’s side of the bed.
And now? Well, now he’s not quite sure where their movie will go. If anywhere, that is.
“Reed will get you back,” Johnny says, breaking Peter from his mid-dish wash thoughts. A strange new determination flickers across his face; it sends a chill down Peter’s spine.
“Yeah,” Peter nods unsurely, “‘course he will.” His voice sounds rough and nervous compared to the strong confidence of the man next to him.
Johnny furrows his brows, mouth opening, presumably to ask Peter a question.
“Mr Spiderman!” Reed calls, interrupting the pair and effectively snapping Johnny’s mouth to a close. “The results are in the lab, shall we check them out?”
Peter looks to the blonde, who nods fiercely
“We’re going to get you out.”
“Of course you will.”