T. Holland/P.Parker/ Spider-man imagines

Tom/ Baking

Okay, I swear imma do the rest of the request tomorrow! I just got inspired quickly by what literally just happened to me.

You were scrolling through tumblr, completely oblivious to what time it was. When, all of a sudden, a pure realization. YOU WANTED CARROT CAKE! You looked up recipes online, scurrying to write down what you needed. Once you gathered the few ingredients you began adding and mixing.

You added the cinnamon, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and then vanilla. The problem was that too much cinnamon came out and sprinkled everywhere in the bowl. You hesitated for a moment before trying very carefully to turn on the mixer.

Splat. Your eyes peeled open to see the orange batter splattered on the wall, your work space, and you. You wiped the little bit that got on you and continued working. You sighed, hands on hip. The glass pan you needed was no where to be found. And you just couldn't be bothered looking for it.

So you snatched up the three cupcake pans, and the little pretty papers to go inside. Your grabbed an ice cream scoop and poured some batter into each one. When a dollop decided that it was having non of this. Being baked. Business and jumped out, onto the workspace.

You shook your head, setting one tray in. You lay on the floor after setting the timer. You put your floured covered hands on your face. "Bloody hell," Tom muttered under his breath. "It's one in the morning!" He looked to where you were on the floor.

"It is?" You asked curiously. You darted your eyes away from your newly wedded husband. You smiled sheepishly. "But it's carrot cake. Err, cupcakes."

"I don't care what it is. It's a mess." You waved a hand in the air to dismiss his statement.

"Don't worry about it. I'll clean it."

He looked to the wall, finding the orange batter splattered on it. His eyebrow raised in confusion. "How did it get on the wall?"

"Uhh, well," you started. Not really knowing how it happened. Nor how to explain what happened.

He shook his head, sitting next to you on the cold tile floor. "Nevermind." He rested his head on your shoulder, closing his eyes. You felt his head bob as he giggled. "My wife's a bloody ninny. Who makes sweets at 1?"

"I may be a ninny, but at least I'm not stupid."

"You sure about that?"

"Maybe not. I did say yes to you." He mocked being insulted. Placing a hand over his heart. You poked the bare skin of his stomach and he fell on his back.

"I've been impaled!" He whined, holding his side. He looked to you with those soft puppy dog eyes and pouted. "My love." He dragged out the words as if he'd been seriously injured. You rolled your eyes patting his stomach as you stood to take the first batch out of the oven. After you placed the next one's in you sat by him again.

You smiled, squishing his face. He swatted at your hands. "Fis ex aboose." He tried to speak clearly but failed. You shrugged your shoulders, letting his face go. He rolled on top of you, pinning you to the floor. He leaned forward, planting a quick kiss on your lips.

"Bugger off," you said, mimicking his accent. He laughed. Going back to sitting next to you. You stood on your knees and pulled out a cup cake. You handed one to Tom while you waited patiently for the timer to go off. You looked over to Tom to see what he thought. He cursed under his breath, then kissed you on your temple.

You placed the last tray in and when you turned around Tom was pulling you by the hips towards him. You fell into him. "What are you doing?" You asked, laying your head on his shoulder.

"Um, dancing with my wife. In the middle of our kitchen. At um, 2 in the morning." You smiled as the two of you swayed. You began humming the song that was stuck in your head and Tom sang the words softly. The timer started going off and you broke apart. He turned off the timer and the oven.

He grabbed your hand. "I've got to tidy up."

"Cheers to ya, you're bonkers." he picked you up by the waist, tossing you over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. "I'm going to bed." You opened your mouth to protest but he kept talking. "You're coming with me. We can clean in the morning."