Tony was no longer shocked when, upon arriving home, JARVIS announced that one Wade Wilson had crashed in the upper floors of the Avengers Tower and was currently in the kitchen. It happened far too often for his own liking. But Wade typically left fairly quickly, leaving behind both a giant stack of pancakes and the biggest mess possible, once Tony invited (threatened) Wade to leave. What Tony wasn’t expecting was the other pest. Or bug, to be more exact.
The elevator had dinged at the Avenger’s suite, and Tony stepped out just in time to hear the words “I mean, they’re good, but they aren’t the best” leave the cursed spider’s mouth.
“Not that good? NOT THAT GOOD?? Why Peter peter pumpkin eater, how dare you insult my fluffy disks of buttery goodness. These holy Frisbees could withstand the toughest judging of our Lord and Saviour Gordon Ramsey himself. I will have you know that I have borrowed (stolen) the recipes of 100 goddesses (grandmothers) and combined them all into this most amazing combination of fluff, butter, sweetness, and size. I have practiced this recipe THREE HUNDRED and seventy-two THOUSAND, eight hundred and forty-four times and each one was better than the last. And you, my snuggle bug, have the audacity to call them ‘not the best’? How dare you offend the chef so. We live in a cruel cruel world, when the boy I love doesn’t even love my cakes. You wound me.” Wade turned his back on Peter and was dramatically sinking to the floor, one hand thrown over his forehead, his pink ‘kiss the cook’ frock draping along the floor.
“Oh come on, Wade. They aren’t awful. I’ve just had better.” Peter stuffed another bite of the pancakes sitting on the bar counter in front of him into his mouth. “See? I’m eating them. Mmmm delicious.” Tony could see the slight grimace on his face as he chewed.
“Oh save it lover boy, it’s obvious you don’t love my buns.”
“Well, if we are talking about your buns, I can say with certainty that they are the most squeeze-“ Tony decided this was a good time for him to interrupt, not wanting to find out if that sentence was going where he thought it might be, and hoping to get the two out before they hurt the kitchen any more. Shockingly, it wasn’t too bad at the moment.
“What the hell are you two doing here? I’m fairly certain that this is an Avengers only tower.”
“Um, excuse you, I am a card carrying member of the Avengers, thank you very much.” Deadpool said from the floor, still pouting.
“That wasn’t official.”
“According to Steve it was. Just ask him, I’m sure he is around here somewhere.” Deadpool took a deep breath in before yelling, “STEVE??? WHERE ARE YOU MY TALL DARK DRINK OF FREEDOM, SOMEONE IS TRYING TO OPRESS ME!!!!”
“Won’t you shut the hell up? I’m not oppressing you, I’m trying to protect the sanctity of my property, since you don’t have the cleanest record with, oh, anything! I frankly don’t care if you’re an Avenger or not, especially since you,” Tony pointed at Peter, “are most definitely not an Avenger.”
“yeah, I turned you guys down,” Peter shrugged, “but he invited me, and said it was ok, so sorry about that, but we are here now, so.” He could see the vein popping out of Tony’s neck but frankly, his boyfriend had offered to make him pancakes, and Peter wasn’t one to turn down free food. Even if the pancakes were mediocre and at the cost of Tony’s sanity.
“Tony, have you ever been scorned by your lover?” Deadpool sulked from the ground.
“Did someone call me?” Steve’s muscled blonde body appeared in the doorway.
“You weren’t scorned, Wade, your pancakes just aren’t the best. You have the best
tacos I’ve ever eaten, so not everything you make can be perfect.” Peter responded to Wade, ignoring the sudden appearance.
“Everything, no, but I am known for two things Babe, Tacos and Pancakes. Ask any fan fic writer.”
“I would have said murder and murder but I guess-“ Tony shrugged
“Um excuse you, who asked for your input Tin Can?”
“Wait, what’s going-“ Steve started, still looking very confused.
“Wait, PETER I’M A GENIUS!” Wade yelled, jumping off the floor and facing the others in the room, “Tony, Steve, you should taste my cakes and tell me I’m the greatest and tell Petey he’s wrong. He’ll accept it coming from the star spangled dangle and Daddycakes over there.”
“Wade, no. And I’ve seen Tony cook, his pallet is not going to know the difference between the best pancake ever and an ok one.” Peter jumped in.
“Hey, Bug boy, I-“ Tony started.
“It’s true there was this time whe-” Steve tried, before being cut off by an angry Wade.
“Oh, and like you would.” Wade taunted.
“Actually, yeah. I kinda do.”
“And how’s that?”
“Cause I make the second best pancakes ever, second only to Aunt May of course.”
Wade scoffed. “Babe, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve had your pancakes before, and they were nasty.”
“Oh yeah? Wanna bet I can make the better pancake? Regular terms?” Peter was nose to nose with Wade, determined.
“No. Please…” Tony pleaded for the sake of his kitchen while Steve was finally starting to put 2 and 2 together.
But it was too late. The two had already shook on it, and the kitchen was doomed. Deadpool was just throwing his previous batch of pancakes in the trash as Pete moved towards the cupboards when suddenly Clint dropped down from above.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING THOSE WERE PERFECTLY GOOD PANCAKES!” He cried in distress sinking to his knees in front of the waste basket.
“What are you doing little spider?” Peter jumped at the voice right behind him, landing stuck to a cupboard door, which swung out and tilted off its hinges before he could jump down. Somehow, Nat seemed to never set off Peter’s spider senses. He had thought there was a wall behind him, he had no idea where she could have come from.
“Petey thinks that his disgusting wheat cakes are better than my perfect circles of golden joy so we’re having a contest that Tony and Steve are gonna judge to see who’s right (it’s me).”
“For the record, I never agreed to this.” Tony said, throwing his arms up in the air as he gave up hope and sat down on the couches close to the kitchen, trying to ignore the commotion behind him. Steve had just accepted his fate and sat down at the bar.
“Wait… you’re making more pancakes?” Clint asked hopefully.
“Yeah! You wanna help judge?” Peter asked.
“Oh yeah, I’m in. Nat?” Clint asked as he slid into a bar seat beside Steve, across from where the ingredients were being gathered.
“Why not, should be interesting.” Nat leaned against the door frame, eyes narrowed as she watched and judged each of their smallest movements.
The two started off. Wade used cake flour, knowing that it helped keep the batter fluffier and moist, whereas Peter just used regular. The air was filled with white dust as they each measured. Wade casually took a little flour on his hand and ruffled Peter’s hair, throwing white into the air and making himself cough. Peter wasn’t pleased and retaliated with a puff of flour into Wade’s face which cascaded down Wade’s frock, before turning back to his own bowl. Next the milk and eggs, which gave wade the perfect opportunity to crack a nice egg right on top of Peter’s head.
“Wade, what the hell?” Peter screamed, trying to dump the egg into the sink.
“It’s because I think you’re EGGcellent.” Wade winked, earning a sigh from Tony.
Peter flung a bunch of his batter at the back of Wade’s head as soon as he had turned around and said, “Well you BATTER get ready for me to kick your ass.”
“Oh baby, anything involving me, you, and my ass, you know I’m in for, sweetie.” Wade winked as he spread some syrup onto Peter’s face, licking the rest off his hand while maintaining eye contact with Peter.
“Shut up and make the fucking food!” Clint yelled, eliciting a “Language!” from Steve beside him.
Sugar, and spices were next. Wade went with a mix of cinnamon and Nutmeg, where peter just added the slightest touch of cinnamon. Obviously Peter didn’t understand the subtlety in pancake making. Undertones were the key. And then it was mix time. Wade was whisking like there was no tomorrow, making batter fly everywhere, covering the front of his frock and all the surrounding cupboards, and even splattering both Peter and Clint, to neither of their liking.
“Oh hey Buck, you want some pancakes?” Steve asked the suddenly formed shape of Bucky Barnes. The man sat silently beside Steve, dodging a flying glob of batter.
“Come on, the Russian arm wrestler can try some of Americas finest cuisine.” Wade invited.
Next was cooking. Wade looked over at Peter’s batter as they both prepared their pans.
“Hun, that’s going to be way too bland. I want you to at least try to win. There is like no colour there at all, it looks like an NRA meeting in a bowl.”
“Hey, you don’t know me, you don’t know my batter. It is definitely pro gun control.”
“Fine, but don’t be mad when you lose, then.”
“I don’t know Wade; you might be under estimating the qualities of a simple batter. Remember, if I win, I’m pitching.”
“And I’m catching, I know the rules Baby boy.” Peter squeaked as Wade squeezed his bottom, covering up Tony’s grossed out, “Stop!”
The pancakes hit the bottom of the pans with a sizzle, both perfectly round as they spread into place. Clint was anxiously perched on the counter now, his stomach audibly rumbling as he watched the golden circles form.
Peter grabbed his pan and flicked the pancake up, eliciting an “ooh” from Steve as he watched the cake flip perfectly in the air and fall back into the pan easily. Wade smirked. Peter was too early; his pancakes were going to be too wet in the middle. Guess this fight was settled. Wade flipped his pancake soon afterwards, throwing it higher than Peter’s, and winking at his boyfriend as he caught it behind his back.
“Show off.” Peter smiled.
Peter looked so delectable covered in pancake batter. Wade couldn’t wait to eat him up. After he had won of course.
Soon all the batter was gone, and the pancakes were served.
“Ok, ok, mine first.” Wade served up his perfectly stacked pancakes, smothered in butter and syrup to each of the waiting Avengers. “These are a simple buttermilk pancake, no chocolate chips or banana or anything nasty, just pure fluffy heaven, like a unicorn’s fart.” Wade stood proudly back as everyone took a bite, followed by their groans of approval. Clint was already half way through his stack.
“Wade, these are fantastic. Definitely the work of an Avenger.” Steve winked at Wade and Peter swore Wade was about to faint. Even Natasha looked impressed, which wasn’t something she easily was, especially when the person impressing her was Wade.
As Wade passed Peter a pancake he whispered, “Now try and beat this baby boy.”
“With pleasure.” Peter purred back before taking a bite. There was no contest.
As soon as their plates were clean, Peter brought out his pancakes. They weren’t as perfectly shaped or stacked as Wade’s, and looked much less impressive. Everyone thought that the winner was quite clear already.
But then Tony took a bite. His moan of pleasure filled the entire room. He was in pure ecstasy and soon everyone else was joining him. Even Bucky, sulky as he was, was smiling just a little as he put bite after bite of the fluffy goodness in his mouth. They were absolutely perfect.
“Sorry dip shit, the spider wins.” Tony said over a mouthful of pancake.
“WHAT?? There is no way, gimme that-“ Wade stole a bite from Steve’s plate, earning a slap on his hand and a “No stealing!” from Steve. But Wade didn’t care. The taste on his tongue was nothing short of heavenly. The recipe might have been plain, yes, but the texture was perfectly fluffy, and the flavours were balanced just right. They were so moist but perfectly cooked in the middle too! Wade’s pancakes looked sloppy and dry in comparison. Honestly, Wade had never tasted anything better than this perfect fried joy, not even when he had his mouth wrapped around Peter’s… well, you know. How come everything about Peter tastes so damn good?
“What is your secret, Pete, these are amazing.” Clint said. His were gone, his mouth spraying crumbs as he spoke.
“I’m serious.” Peter said with certainty.
“How do your spider senses have anything to do with pancakes?” Tony asked from the couch.
“They go off when it’s the perfect time to flip and stuff. And I use May’s recipe of course.” Peter Shrugged.
“WHAT???? THAT’S CHEATING, PETER YOU CHEATED, HOW COULD YOU DON’T YOU WANT TO SET AN EXAMPLE FOR THE CHILDREN??” Wade shouted, astounded at the atrocious idea that his perfect Peter Parker could ever cheat without his pants literally catching on fire. “I knew there must have been a trick,” Wade turned to Clint, “He tried to feed me these horrendous brown piles of something called a wheat cake once. It was awful.”
Peter sighed. “Those were May’s own recipe. And they weren’t awful, they were healthy.”
“No, Dick Wad is right, they are awful. He’s made them for me too.” Tony said. “Now, Peter, are you gonn-“ Tony stopped as he stood up, and finally took in the view of his kitchen for the first time since the competition had started. Flour was covering every surface, a cabinet door was hanging off its hinges, the stove was covered in batter that had been baked onto the surface from the heat of the elements, and batter was flung about on every counter and cupboard door. The only sorrier looking thing in the kitchen were Wade and Peter themselves. Wade’s head was caked in dried batter, his red uniform almost turned completely white from the powder. Peter’s hair was mated with an egg, and his cheeks were smeared with flour and syrup.
“WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY KITCHEN?!?!?” Tony yelled.
Wade shrugged sheepishly, “We decorated?”