A Dinner With Framily (SpideyPool)

A Dinner With Framily- Chapter One

Peter looked up from the freshly roasted chicken sitting on the counter in front of him, his dirty hand towel tossed loosely over one shoulder.

The kitchen wall concealed who came in through the door, but he knew who it was when he heard it creak open.

Wade peered around the wall, a Walmart bag dangling in one hand. Other than Peter, Wade was the only person that had a key to the apartment they shared.

Technically, Wade was the only one who ever did have a key. Peter always forgets and leaves it next to the kitchen sink.

"Their not here yet, are they?" Wade's questioning tone bounced through the small kitchen, right behind Peter.

Plates clattered as they were put on the other counter by the stove, followed by the crunching sound of the grocery bag being unloaded.

"Nope, not for another hour. I still need to make those Mashed Potatoes I told you to get. You did get them, right?"

Wade looked up at the square clock above his head, the hands indicating five o'clock. They had a little time, enough to finish the Dinner they were making. Well, Peter was making. Wade can't even boil water right.

Peter dug through the rest of the bag, frowning as he pulled out a poor excuse for a box of Mashed Potato mix. "You bought a box of mix? I told you to buy a bag of real potatoes."

Wade turned and looked at Peter's frowning face, feeling that pang of regret in his gut. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking. I'm just used to buying takeout from that Chinese Place up the road."

Peter groaned, taking the worthless box into his clutches and walked to the farthest counter that was the closest to the balcony door, throwing it open and yanking out a large silver pot. He then retraced his steps, going back to the stove with the pot and box in his hands.

Wade glanced over at him, swinging open the fridge and loading in cold items that Peter might need soon to finish the meal. "Look, If your that mad about it, I could take it back and get real potatoes."

Peter shook his head, reading the directions on the back of the box. "No, it's fine," he waved him off after setting the pot down on the counter.

Wade sighed, taking the box from his clutches and setting it down onto the countertop. "I would, just say the word, Spidey."

Peter's eyes widened, snapping his fingers as he pulled away from Wade. "Oh, that reminds me. I forgot to put our suits in the dryer."

Peter trotted through the arch that left the kitchen, his voice muffled and far away as he ran further through the apartment.

"Could you start on the Mashed Potatoes for me?" But, then a moment of hesitation followed before his other words. "Nevermind. Just don't touch anything food wise."

Wade chuckled, setting the Mashed Potato box down onto the counter, next to the old pot. He was going to have to take Peter out for new cooking supplies too. He did have more than culinary experience than Wade after all, growing up with an aunt.

Soon, the sound of the dryer started to echo through the apartment, followed by Peter returning back into the kitchen. In his hands he had dryer lint, rolled up into a neat grey ball.

He went towards the end of the counters, putting his foot down on the trash bin handle and throwing the ball in once the lid popped up.

Wade went to his current task, washing the dirty dishes Peter used to finish cooking, when Peter's phone started vibrating in the drawer next to him.

Peter's phone always ended up in the weirdest places it seems. One time it was in the fridge, wrapped up in a bag with a carton of milk and, surprisingly, his key to the front door.