Work Text:
Peter looked up from where he was doing his homework at the kitchen table at the smell of smoke. “Y/N?”
His girlfriend turned a page in her book. “Hm?”
“Did you ever put the popcorn in the pan?”
“No, the recipe for kettle corn said to put in three kernels, and once they popped it meant the oil was hot enough.”
“I think your oil is plenty hot.”
She looked up, gasping at the sight of hot steamy air rushing from the edges of the glass lid covering the pot. She jumped up, quickly taking the lid off and coughing at the large plume of smoke that erupted out. Peter hurried to help her, turning on the fan above the stove before opening all the kitchen windows.
“Maybe I can still put in the popcorn?” Y/N said hopefully. Peter looked back to see her dumping the rest of the kernels in. The hot oil hissed and spat before she covered it with the lid again. The kernels were definitely popping, though Peter wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. It looked like it was burning. Y/N groaned. “I’m just going to put in the sugar before it’s totally destroyed.”
“Wait-” he started to say, but it was too late. Now in addition to the smell of burning popcorn and oil, there was also the smell of swiftly caramelizing sugar. They both stepped back slightly, waiting to see if it would work. Peter held his breath, worrying his lip slightly. After a few agonizing seconds, it looked like only a third of the popcorn had popped, but the very blackened kernels had come to rest on the bottom of the pan. Y/N sighed in defeat, turning off the heat underneath.
“Why don’t you dump it out in the garbage, I’ll take care of the lid.” Peter nodded, thinking it best he didn’t comment. He poured the ruined kettle corn into the garbage, watching in slight fascination as the black sludge of melted sugar slid out of the pot, looking like some evil brain-eating alien parasite. Not that he would know what that looked like. He chuckled, about to tell Y/N his comparison, but stopped as his spidey-sense went off. He whirled around to see Y/N turning on the water over the lid, which was now in the sink. There was a loud POP, almost like a gun going off, and Y/N froze as the lid exploded.
“Are you okay?” he asked hesitantly. She nodded, still staring at the shattered lid. He looked into the sink. It looked like a broken mosaic, with just the glass around the rim and what used to be the handle still connected.
“I think I broke your aunt’s lid.” Y/N turned to look at him, her eyes shiny with tears. “I ruined everything, didn’t I?”
“Hey,” he said, pulling her into a hug. “May’s been wanting to replace her set of pans for years, you just gave her a good excuse.”
“I never should have tried to make kettle corn,” she said, her voice muffled from where her face was buried in his shoulder.
“You didn’t know this would happen,” he reassured. “You only fail if you stop trying.”
“I don’t know, shattering your aunt’s lid, burning the popcorn, and filling your apartment with smoke seems like failing,” she said dryly, moving back. Peter chuckled.
“Well when you put it like that…” Peter said, laughing slightly. “Anyway, I’ll go get the vacuum, we can vacuum up the glass and then try again.”
“Okay, but you’re in charge of knowing when the oil is hot, my nerves are fried,” she said, moving back to her book.