summary: may and pepper cook together
pairing: may parker x pepper potts
warnings: f l u f f, peter being a lame teenager
“What are we doing for dinner tonight?” Pepper hummed. She was in the middle of braiding May’s hair, sitting cross-legged on the couch while May sat on the floor in front of her, cheap beer in hand. May shrugged.
“I don't know, Chinese food maybe?”
Pepper’s fingers stilled momentarily, and May couldn't help the soft noise of disappointment she let out. She settled back comfortably as Pepper started working again, the dinner question practically forgotten until her girlfriend breached the subject once again.
“You know…” Pepper hesitated and May could practically feel her biting her lip, a nervous habit she'd picked up long before they'd met. “I was thinking we could stay in tonight. Have a more lowkey date.”
“Oh, okay,” May said, nodding a little. She set the beer down to reach for her cellphone, which had been discarded on the coffee table as soon as Pepper suggested hair braiding. “I'll just call a place and we can order take-out, no big deal.”
“No, I mean -” Pepper let out a flustered sigh. “I mean, like, I want to cook. Together. Like our own food.”
May’s brows furrowed and she turned to face pepper, her hair falling out of its braid. “You know I can't cook.”
Pepper smiled. “That's okay. We can do it together.” And then, as if sensing May’s hesitation, “but if you don't want to, Chinese is good. I'm just happy to be with you.”
May have it another minute of thought before she finally conceded with a sigh. Might as well bite the bullet, right? “If you think you can somehow override my inability to cook, I’d love to have something homemade for once.”
Pepper gave her a bright, brilliant smile that made May’s gut twist itself into knots. Even if the food didn't turn out, that smile alone would make this worth it.
Before May had even thought about what they might make, Pepper was off the couch and in the kitchen, talking about her ideas for the dinner. May grabbed her beer and scrambled after her now very enthusiastic girlfriend. She felt out of her element already, but Pepper seemed to know what she was doing.
They settled on a simple chicken dish, accompanied with mashed potatoes and some roasted vegetables. May was in charge of cubing the potatoes and seasoning the vegetables, which she found quite enjoyable after some coaching from Pepper (who was busy throwing things into a marinade and getting a pan ready).
In minutes, the kitchen was filled with playful laughter and delicious aromas as the women cooked. It was intimate in a way May hadn't felt in ages, not since Ben; occasionally, they'd brush past each other while moving through the kitchen, or their hands would bump against one another as they went to reach for a spice.
Once May had finished the tasks from Pepper, she hoisted herself onto a counter and watched her girlfriend work; Pepper boiled the potatoes and cooked the chicken with ease. When she went to add the vegetables to the same pan that the chicken had been in, May raised a quizzical eyebrow. “It'll give them more flavor,” Pepper explained. May got the profound feeling that Pepper knew more about cooking than she ever would. “Can you mash the potatoes? They should be soft enough now.”
With that, the two went back to work until finally, dinner was done.
They set the table quickly and efficiently, adding a third placemat as Peter walked through the door. He smiled sheepishly at Pepper, offering her a “hello, Ms. Potts” (to which Pepper rolled her eyes, because she'd told him to call her by her first name dozens of times, but suppressed a smile anyway) and then looked at May as if to ask if he was interrupting. Wordlessly, she set another plate at the table and shooed him off to his room to get cleaned up.
Once Peter was settled and dinner was sitting ready at the table, the three settled down to eat. May couldn't help the stupid grin that plastered itself on her face at the sight of the other two people at the table. This felt like family; like home. They raised their glasses - Pepper had wine, May had another beer, and Peter had a grape soda - and toasted to family before digging into the food.
Peter let out a noise as he bit into the chicken, something less than dignified. May heard him mumble something under his breath, and then he laughed to himself, and her interest was piqued.
“I said,” Peter replied, gulping down a bite of potato, “delicious. Finally, some good fucking food.”
Pepper choked on her asparagus.
“Peter!” May exclaimed. “Language!”
Peter just flashed her a lopsided grin and kept eating, and she didn't have the heart to scold him further because, if she was being honest, he was right. This overshadowed every attempt at cooking May had ever made.
They ate in companionable silence and cleaned up that way as well, and then Peter was off to bed and Pepper finished May’s braid. “Thank you,” May hummed, back on the floor in the living room.
“Don't thank me,” Pepper said. “I had fun.”
“Yeah,” May said with a sleepy, sated smile on her face, “me, too.”
