Pietro Maximaff - Blog Posts

↫Midnight Snacks↬

Synopsis: In the middle of the night, you are met with an annoyingly awake speedster. Maybe you could share this small moment with him. And maybe like it...

Warnings; none!!

The mansion was silent at this hour, the kind of quiet that made every creak of the floorboards and every hum of the refrigerator seem louder than they actually were. You shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and headed straight for the fridge.

“Midnight munchies, huh?”

You yelped, nearly slamming your head into the fridge door as you spun around. Peter was leaning casually in the doorway, arms crossed and a trademark smirk plastered on his face.

“Peter!” you hissed, clutching the carton of milk you’d grabbed as if it were a weapon. “Do you get off on scaring me?”

“Pretty much,” he replied, zipping into the kitchen and leaning on the counter next to you. “So, what’s on the menu? Leftover pizza? Ice cream? A questionable combination of both?”

“Hot chocolate,” you said, setting the milk on the counter.

“Classic,” Peter said, nodding approvingly. “Mind if I join?”

“Do I have a choice?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope,” he said, already grabbing mugs from the cabinet at super-speed. He tossed them onto the counter with a flourish. “Allow me to assist.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling as you reached for the saucepan. “Fine. But no super-speed stirring. You’ll spill everywhere.”

Peter gasped in mock offense. “What kind of culinary amateur do you take me for?”

“The kind who’s broken three blenders trying to make milkshakes.”

“That was one time,” he protested. “Okay, maybe three. But this is different.”

While the milk heated, Peter zipped around the kitchen, gathering whipped cream, sprinkles, and a bag of marshmallows. By the time you poured the hot chocolate into the mugs, the counter looked like a sugar-filled battlefield.

“Subtle,” you said, gesturing to the mountain of toppings.

Peter shrugged. “Go big or go home.”

He grabbed a mug, piling on an absurd amount of whipped cream and marshmallows before sprinkling the whole thing with a generous handful of chocolate shavings. He took a sip and promptly got whipped cream on his nose.

You burst out laughing, setting your own mug down. “You’ve got a little something…”

“Where?” he asked, crossing his eyes in an attempt to see the mess.

“Here, let me—” You reached out to wipe it off, but before you could, Peter licked it away at super-speed, flashing you a smug grin.

“Got it,” he said.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, shaking your head.

“But charmingly so,” he countered, clinking his mug against yours. “Admit it—midnight snacks are better with me around.”

You sipped your hot chocolate, pretending to think about it. “Mmm… debatable.”

Peter gasped dramatically. “Rude! You’re lucky I like you.”

You smirked, leaning against the counter as the two of you sipped your drinks. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward—it was warm, comfortable, the kind of quiet that came with knowing someone so well you didn’t need to fill every second with words.

“Okay,” you said after a while. “Maybe you’re not that bad.”

“Now that’s the spirit,” Peter said, giving you a playful nudge. “Told you—I’m the ultimate midnight snack buddy.”