#1

Just a little random scene that came to me; it's related to my fic Saving Grace. Just a cute little Peter and Grace fluff.

After dinner, the Avengers were all heading into the living room for a movie. Peter grabbed his empty plate, and followed Grace, intending to put his dirty dishes away for Grace. He passed into the kitchen...and nearly plowed right into her back. He peeked around her to see what had stopped her in her tracks.

A Mount Everest of dishes, pots, pans, and coffee mugs towered from the sink.

"What happened here?" Peter asked, eyes wide.

"I took a couple of sick days. That's what," Grace dead-panned. "Looks like I'm on KP tonight." she huffed a stray curl out of her face, squared her shoulders, and marched right up to the sink. "My playlist, please, Mr. JARVIS."

"With pleasure, Miss Grace," the AI answered, sounding like a head butler responding to the lady of the house. Thirties and Fourties swing music came over the kitchen speakers. Peter just stood in the doorway, unsure of what to do. "Shall I call Captain Rogers or Sergeant Barnes to assist you, Miss Grace?" JARVIS asked.

"No," she shook her head as she pushed up her sleeves. "They're catching up with their pals; I can take care of this."

There was a beat of silence.

"...It will take you some time to complete this task on your own."

Peter half-expected to hear the AI add a "my lady" at the end.

"I'll be fine; I'll have you for company," she sent a grin up toward the ceiling for JARVIS's benefit.

"And me," Peter piped up, making a split-second decision.

Grace turned to him. "If you stay, you help," she stated. "You sure you don't want to go talk shop with the fellas?"

"I'm sure."

"Okay." She tossed him a dish towel. "Then get your spider-tail over here and dry."

The towel hit him in the chest, and a grin spread across his lips as he caught it. "Yes, ma'am."

Thirty minutes later, Clint passed the kitchen and heard the Andrews Sisters crooning "Boogie-Woogie Bugle Boy", overlayed by giggles, laughter, and singing. He peeked through the door.

The mountain of dishes was about half done, but that was not what put a smile on the archer's face.

Peter and Grace were facing each other, dishes momentarily forgotten. Grace was singing into a wooden spoon and Peter was "playing" a trumpet/bugle on a soup ladle. Both were grinning form ear to ear as they jammed to the wartime music.

"Can you save a picture of this, JARVIS?" Clint whispered.

"Already done, sir," JARVIS softly replied.