A/N: One Shot. The OC is intended to look like the actress Claudia Martin!
"You should make some pancakes for breakfast …"
The 'should' was a courtesy word, and Peter knew it. He glanced at his girlfriend beside him, already having fallen asleep despite claiming (only 5 minutes ago) that she was oh-so hungry and absolutely required breakfast now. ASAP.
Peter couldn't help the giggle that came out of him. "You liar."
If there was one thing that Maribel Jenavid was, it's that she was a fast sleeper. It was an enviable trait — Peter had told her one too many times that he wished he could do the same.
Peter got up carefully from the bed, not wanting to disturb what was probably a good sleep Maribel was having. Two steps towards the door and he concluded it was cold. He put on the first thing he found lying around which was the clothes he had on last night for date night — a white button-down shirt.
Pants are for later, he happily concluded as he sprinted out the room in the shirt, boxers and socks. Maribel would frown on that as the biggest rule in her house had always been: wear. shoes. all. the. time. Some crazy rumor that being barefoot was a one way ticket to getting sick.
Peter thought it was hilarious. Maribel did not.
He went into the kitchen to find himself some breakfast, or at least something quick and easy. He took out a simple granola bar but halfway through it, he decided that he was indeed in the mood for pancakes. Maribel often led him to cravings. Today was no exception.
He shoved the remainder of the granola bar into his mouth and started gathering stuff for pancakes. Milk and eggs from the fridge, placing them on the counter. Chocolate chips from the cabinet because who didn't want chocolate chip in their pancakes!? Somewhere along the way he started playing music on his phone (quiet of course so Maribel wouldn't wake up). He then went hunting for the oil in the other cabinet and sugar. The last was the flour from the freezer — Maribel insisted that she had a bad experience putting flour in the cabinets and that it now needed to be in the freezer or else she wouldn't touch it. It was fine, Peter loved Maribel with all her quirks. He took out the flour from the freezer and set it on the counter.
As he started pouring things into the mixing bowl, he turned up the music for his enjoyment. The whisk became his microphone. It dripped batter on his shirt but that didn't matter as he turned here and there for other ingredients. He had no idea when it became more about the dancing than the actual pancakes. Somewhere along the way, Old Time Rock & Roll started playing (the playlist was all mixed up).
If anyone asked him how it happened, he wouldn't have had the answer. He found out his socks were the perfect kind of slippery on the floor. He upped the volume and may or may not have restarted the song just to make everything perfect.
His socks were the perfect kind of slippery. He slid down the floor, stopping gracefully and turning around as the beat commanded it.
Just take those old records off the shelf!
I'll sit and listen to 'em by myself
Today's music ain't got the same soul!
I like that old time rock and—
Someone cleared their throat suddenly, interrupting the whole show. Peter froze right in his spot, whisk halfway up on his side, and eyes immensely wide.
Maribel stood a couple feet away from him, still looking half asleep yet awake enough to be amused at the sight in front of her. "Good morning," she greeted.
Peter cleared his throat and straightened himself up, lowering his whisk to the side. "M-morning..." He was keenly aware that the music was still playing in the background.
Maribel was too. "Soo..."
"Soo..." Peter wondered if it would be worse if he went and turned the music off. The scene was already set perfectly with or without it.
"Didn't I ask you to make pancakes an hour ago?" Maribel asked, crossing her arms.
"Uh, yes, yes you did," Peter nodded, clearing his throat, "B-but in my defense, you also fell asleep 55 minutes ago."
Maribel deadpanned him. "And your solution was to come out here and do a whole Risky Business scene?"
"W-well that was...that was unplanned, but..." Now Peter knew for sure that he would rather fight another lizard than handle this conversation right now. "You're...you're, uh, you're never going to let me live this down, are you?"
Slowly, Maribel started to smile. "Nu-uh," she confirmed his suspicions. He sighed.
Maribel hummed to herself as she inched towards the kitchen. She saw all the pancake ingredients out and picked a handful of chocolate chips from the bag. "There's a way to get me to stay quiet about all this," she announced as she turned back towards Peter.
"Oh, really?" Peter wondered how many chores he would have to do before Maribel considered staying quiet. Her smirk was dread-worthy.
"Oh yeah," Maribel nodded, dropping a couple chocolate chips into her mouth. "Real simple too."
"What is it?"
"Take it from the top," she said, moving her index finger in a circle. "And let me take a seat."
"I —" Peter deadpanned Maribel as she headed for the kitchen table. "You're not funny," he said, striding towards her.
Maribel laughed as he walked her up against the counter. "I think I'm very funny!"
"No, you're not," Peter promised her, looking her dead in the eyes. "And you know what? I don't think I'll be making pancakes anymore."
"What a shame," Maribel said, dropping the remaining chocolate chips into her mouth. "No breakfast and no show? Double loss."
Peter mimicked Maribel's voice while she laughed. "You want pancakes? Fine by me." He grabbed a handful of cold flour and flicked it right in Maribel's face.
Maribel gasped with the sudden splatter. "Peter!"
Peter burst into laughter. "How are the pancakes, dear?"
"Vas a ver tus 'pancakes'!" Maribel screeched.
Peter laughed even more. When Maribel went into Spanish, she was extra pissed. "Don't worry, we've got some more if you want." He was quick to grab more flour and sprinkled it over Maribel's head.
"PETER PARKER!" Maribel screamed loudly enough to go through the apartment walls.
Peter was still laughing. "You look like a ghost!"
Maribel was glaring daggers at him. "You forgot something," she said.
"Like what?"
Maribel smirked. "To mix." And with that, she swiped the mixing bowl on their side and threw the mix at Peter.
It drenched his shirt and part of his face.
"Aw," Maribel feigned a pout, "And that was your best shirt."
The mix slid down Peter's shirt onto his bare knees. It was cold and slimy. "Ugh," he shuddered. He gave Maribel a look that was irritated and somehow still managed to give Maribel shudders. "You're such a goner, Maribel Jenavid."
Maribel's eyes widened. She grabbed the flour bag and slipped under one of Peter's arms to get away.
"Not fast enough!" Peter warned her as he took the sugar bag and went after her. He easily tossed a handful of sugar on Maribel's back. She screeched and came to a stop to shake off all the sugar going down the inside of her shirt. At the same time, Peter encased her in a one-arm hug.
"No!" Maribel exclaimed and threw the flour up, splattering it on Peter's face. The latter coughed out some of the flour, letting Maribel free in the process. "Sucker!" she called as she dashed into the hallway.
"We'll see about that!" Peter warned and followed after her.
By the time either of them would get some sense, their bedroom would have a pattern of flour and sugar over the bed, floor and furniture.
A/N:
As always, I have a tumblr account dedicated to my fanfic works! It's a place where anyone can comment about a story or even just talk to me! I often drop aesthetic work belonging to my stories too! Feel free to check it out, my URL is "saiilorstars"