I LOVE IT.
“No shenanigans,” Foggy says. “That’s your one rule.”
“There are more rules than that,” Matt says.
“Is that rule for me or Mary, Mr. Nelson?” Peter asks, nervously. There is currently a six-year-old clinging to his back and humming what Foggy’s pretty sure is the Imperial March. Their daughter is spectacularly weird.
“…Mary,” Foggy says, after a minute. “You hear that, kid?”
“No shenanigans,” Mary repeats, butchering the word shenanigans and not sounding earnest at all.
“There’s a helpful list on the kitchen counter,” Matt says. “Oh, and she’s going to try to get you to give her coffee because somebody let her try it—”
“It was a frappucino,” Foggy says.
“So don’t give in to that,” Matt says, “because she’ll break everything in the house and try to climb out the window.”
“Wonder who she learned that from,” Foggy mutters.
“No coffee,” Peter says, nodding. “No windows.”
“No shenanigans,” Mary says, brightly, climbing around until Peter’s holding her instead, precariously balanced on his hip while she wraps her arms around him and beams at her dads. “Are you leaving yet?”
“Wow,” Foggy says, amused, taking Matt’s arm, “I can tell when I’m not wanted.”
“We’ll be back before midnight,” Matt says, letting Foggy drag him towards the door. “There are emergency numbers on the list—call Karen if we don’t answer for some reason.”
“Got it,” Peter says, sounding like he’s about 40% sure that he’s actually got it.
“Be good, baby girl,” Foggy says, then makes Peter looks about 25% sure when he adds, “I expect for Peter to have all his limbs when we get back.”
“Love you,” Matt says.
“Love you, too,” Peter says, automatically, then turns bright red. “Uhm, I mean—”
“We love you, too, Spidey,” Foggy says, laughing. “Good luck.”
“No coffee!” Matt calls over his shoulder, before the door shuts behind them.
“No windows!” Peter yells back.
oh my god, they were roommates 