I LOVE YOU

GWEN

After a few short moments of lying on Peter's chest, I slowly get up. I stand at the foot of the bed and rub my eyes, trying to wipe away the sleepiness. When I open them, Peter is still lying on the bed, looking at me with a smirk that has come to be endearing. "Breakfast?" I ask. "Breakfast." He confirms, sliding his feet to the edge of the bed and getting out. As he does I can't help but admire the way the smooth muscles in his arms flex from the movement and the way his back muscles smoothly slide beneath his shirt. 'Gwen, snap out of it! This isn't like you, sure he's hot but is this really necessary?!' I think as I shake my head slightly. "Coming?" Peter calls as he leaves the room. "I'm coming." I confirm and I begin to follow him downstairs. My mom is still in bed and we have the downstairs to ourselves. We make our way to the kitchen where I hop up and sit on our marble countertop. Peter stands in front of me, his arms crossed in front of his chest. "So, what does Gwen want for breakfast?" He asks me, a twinkle in his doe brown eyes. "Hmmmm. Gwen would like French Toast sir with coffee of course." I tell him giving him a smile. "Coffee and French Toast it is, madam. It will take some time." He tells me with a wink and a smile. "Oh, if you make it right it should take some time." I tell him, returning the wink and the smile. He nods and turns away from me to walk to the stove and the cabinets. I watch as he pulls a mixing bowl from the cabinet and gathers other supplies from various places. This includes measuring cups, measuring spoons, stirring utensils, bread, water, milk, eggs, and maple syrup. He puts the syrup into a pan and places it onto the stovetop. Afterwards he mixes the wet ingredients (water, milk, eggs) and combines both mixtures. After stirring the mixture he takes bread and dips it into the mix, soaking it. He then places it on a skillet on the stove and cooks it. Once he has two sizable pieces cooked he take a plate from the cupboard and loads it. He then puts butter, powdered sugar, and maple syrup on the French Toast. He hands me the plate before walking to the keurig to make me my coffee. Once that had started he goes back to making French Toast. My mom must have come down while he was making my French Toast because she enters the kitchen without my noticing. "Peter, you're here! Wow, I must say it does smell delicious!" She says, sniffing the air and breathing in the intoxicating deliciousness. "Oh, yes sorry I dropped by this morning." He explains apologetically. "Peter you're fine. You come here so much it's your second home." "Yeah, you're right. Would you like some French Toast?" He politely asks her. "Oh, that would be wonderful! I'm just gonna be in the living room." "Okay it'll be ready in a few minutes." He tells her as he turns and continues the French Toast production process. Meanwhile I'm eating mine and it's the best I've ever tasted. The syrup is perfect and the French Toast is crunchy, yet not overdone. He hands me my coffee and I thank him. A few minutes later mom's is done and he leaves to deliver her breakfast out in the living room. When he comes back he makes one for himself and joins me on the counter, his drink being milk. "So, you like it?" He asks me, stealing a glance at me sideways. "Yes! It was amazing, you can come make me breakfast anytime you like." I tell him. This makes him laugh and he finishes his breakfast. He grabs both our plates and takes them to the sink to hand wash. We have a dishwasher but I guess living with Aunt May hard wires the duty of washing the dishes by hand. I've told him numerous times but he doesn't mind. Again I find myself staring at him, admiring the way his muscles move and how they strain against his shirt. Again, I force myself to snap out of it. I then get up and silently walk so that I'm standing directly behind him. I wrap my arms around his abdomen and squeeze gently, pressing my cheek up against his back. He stiffens, but continues to wash the dishes. I sigh contentedly and move so that my arms are around his and also in the dishwater. I pick up a plate in this manner and help him to wash the dishes. With him being so tall compared to me, I can't see what I'm doing and so I'm going by touch alone. I feel foam from the dish soap and I get an idea. I grab a handful and before he can notice I swipe it across his face, making Peter look like Santa Claus. He shrieks and then begins laughing. He too grabs a handful and turns around so he can do the same to me. Within the next few minutes, a war begins. Eventually we get the dishes done, our stomachs hurting from laughter. "So, karaoke! This is gonna be fun!" I tell him with a smirk that suggests he will be in misery. "Remind me why I agreed to this again?" He says to me, full well knowing why and being sarcastic anyway. "Because moron, you said you would because I refused to cuddle. Need any other reasons?" I ask, in which he replies "No!". "I'm going to change, I'll be down in a little while." "Okay. I'll just visit with your mom." He tells me, and I nod. Then I disappear to my room to change for my date.