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( def stole ao3's layout bc i love it sm )

rating: general audiences
fandom: marvel cinematic universe
relationship: theo standen/peter parker
additional tags: parents!theopeter, wedding anniversary, food and what it does for the memory of a loved one, they have a daughter and she's the absolute cutest, theopeter family moments
stats ━━ published: 10/24/22 — word count: 1087 — parts: 1/1

━━━━ · 。ﾟ☆ .☽ .* ☆ﾟ. ━━━━

summary:
the one where theo surprises peter with dinner for their wedding anniversary, their daughter by their side

notes:
this came on a whim and i have absolutely zero regrets about it, may or may not have been inspired by my taylor gif graphic i made of the two of them (watty won't let me upload the gif so here's the still), also think of rufus humphrey!matthew instead of the one pictured bc he has more dad!theo vibes

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theo — matthew settle
peter — hugh dancy
alana-may — violet mcgraw

The wooden floors were creaking with the sounds of little feet, pitter-pattering as they ran their way barefoot into the kitchen. 9-year-old Alana-May Parker-Standen stood at a staggering 4'6" as she clung on to 40-year-old Theo's leg as he occupied the stove, poring over something that he was stirring in a pot. He set it aside so he could pay attention to his daughter that was hanging on to him for dear life, picking her up into his embrace, careful to evade the hot stove as he brought her close.

"This is agent Theo, radioing agent Lana. Is it ready?" Theo spoke into the collar of his shirt, pretending it was a comms unit. Alana mimicked him, responding in a mock-serious tone, "It's ready."

"Good." Theo pressed a kiss to her temple. "Dad should be home soon so why don't you bring it out and set it on the table so he can see?" He then set Alana-May down so she could zoom back to her room and get out the paper Avengers she had been working on. Turning back to the stove, Theo eyed the simmering pasta sauce, chuckling at a memory that bubbled to the forefront of his mind, something about him chastising Peter for bringing store-bought Prego sauce into Bartlett's like it was some sort of blasphemy—and it kind of was, considering that Theo was half-Italian and getting anything from the store that could've been easily made was a crime against his humanity. Now, Peter could make homemade pasta sauce with his eyes closed and Theo couldn't be prouder.

After moving into an apartment together during college, the two had grown to be more inclined to cook, which led to Theo teaching Peter to make pasta from scratch—they only did it a couple of times, considering that it was expensive and they didn't have much money in their pockets to burn. So they stuck to simpler, less complex, wallet-friendly meals.

This time, now that they had stable jobs and a little more than six dollars to both of their names, Theo was able to make everything from scratch, even the pasta. He remembered the time they made homemade pizza at Bartlett's and the flour fight that broke out in the kitchen after he—lovingly—blasted Peter in the face with a handful of flour. After they called a draw, they placed them in the brick pizza oven and watched the dough rise as they cleaned the residue off their faces.

He also remembered Peter showing him one of Aunt May's cheesecake recipes that they made for Nate and Alana's Christmas party that they actually stole off the table and shared on the floor, close to reenacting that one scene from F.R.I.E.N.D.S (you know the one). It was, of course, a New York-style that miraculously didn't require a bain-marie but somehow still needed one because Theo wanted to make a chocolate ganache because God forbid he go out without a bang.

Now, he was close to finishing prepping dinner for his and Peter's 17th wedding anniversary—God, they were getting old (kidding!). He was cheesy enough to switch out their usual tablecloth for one with red and white checkers that looked like something that would be found at an Italian restaurant of some sort, or van Gogh's "Cafe Terrace at Night". Earlier, he and Alana-May had gone to Target and she picked out the fairy lights that were now stuck to the wall, draping over the dinner table, twinkling.

"Theodore Standen, you have truly outdone yourself," Theo mumbled as he fished out the finishing touch—a fancy bottle of pinot noir he had to track down because the first time he had it, he was turning 21 and being able to legally drink in the United States (even though he'd been drinking since he was 17 and wasn't actually able to get drunk but that's not the point) and Tony had gotten it from the cellar and hadn't bothered to tell him the name—all he got was a glimpse of the label and the slightly bitter sweetness of the alcohol going down his throat. But after drawing several pictures to try and replicate the label, he finally found it.

Alana-May came running back in time to set her paper models down on the table as soon as the door to their apartment was beginning to open, making her "uppie" arms at Theo to sweep her off her feet as they waited for Peter to walk through. Peter walked into their apartment, slightly taken aback by the dim lighting of their living space. When his eyesight finally adjusted, his vision centered on his husband and their daughter, their eyes twinkling impossibly in the semi-dark.

"What's all this?" Peter asked, playing dumb as he set his stuff down. Theo set Alana-May down so she could go say hi to her dad as they all met in the middle.

"You know, sometimes I'm glad you have a late shift or else I wouldn't have been able to get this done in time," Theo commented, greeting Peter with a kiss.

"Theo Standen, ever the perfectionist." Peter rolled his eyes playfully.

"It took me months to try and kill you because I needed the perfect time to strike."

"Or maybe you just couldn't do it because you fell in love with my boyish charm."

Theo tilted his head, mock considering. "Yeah, maybe that, too." He looked over to his partner of 17 wonderful years and smiled. "Happy anniversary, Peter."

"Happy anniversary, Theo."

"Llama dear helped with the pasta." Theo tilted his head to their daughter, who was standing idly by in the entryway to the kitchen, smiling bashfully into her hands.

"Oh, you're starting her off early, I see." Peter eyed the pasta maker that was still on the table, a tangible handprint on the crank. "About nine years younger than I was."

"Better now than never, as I say."

"At least you're not teaching her Italian swear words behind my back," Peter commented, hiding his shit-eating grin as he watched Theo's face fall slightly because that was what Theo did exactly when Peter was away at work—it also didn't help that Alana-May had yelped "Cazzo!" one time while doing homework and Theo had tried to cover it up with a cough. But Peter had let it slide because he loved them and they were his family and they were his. He couldn't ask for any other family to come home to and spend his wedding anniversary.