[Third Person Pov]
Madeline rose from the couch with a tired but warm smile, smoothing down the front of her blouse. "I’ll go and set out our food for the evening," she announced, already heading toward the kitchen. The savory aroma of roasted chicken and herbs was beginning to drift through the house, a comforting contrast to the growing tension in the living room.
"I’ll help," Peter said imdiately, standing up alongside her. He moved a little too quickly, clearly eager for any excuse to escape the heavy atmosphere that had settled over the family gathering.
Madeline paused and let out a soft, affectionate sigh. "Just sit down, Peter. You’re the guest here—I’m not going to let you lift a finger."
Peter, never one to miss an opportunity for levity, placed a gentle arm around her shoulders and flashed his most charming, teasing grin. "I thought you said I was family? What happened? Have I already been demoted to ’simple house guest’ after all this ti?"
Madeline couldn’t help but chuckle, patting his hand fondly as the two of them disappeared into the kitchen together.
Gayle stared after their retreating backs with a sharp, icy glare that could have curdled milk. Her jaw tightened visibly. When her husband, Timothy, started to rise and offered, "Maybe I should help as well," Gayle imdiately grabbed his arm and yanked him back down onto the couch with surprising force.
"Let him," she muttered bitterly. "Since he wants to intrude so badly, he might as well make himself useful."
That single barbed comnt was the final straw for MJ.
The redhead’s temper, usually kept carefully in check, finally snapped. "Just what the hell is your deal?!" she burst out, her voice cutting through the room like a whip. It was rare for Mary Jane to raise her voice like this, especially at family, but the constant digs at Peter had pushed her past her limit. "Fine, I get it—you don’t like Peter. You don’t have to like him. But that doesn’t give you the right to talk about him like he’s so kind of parasite every single ti he walks into the room!"
Gayle whipped around, eyes blazing. "You know *exactly* what my deal is with him!" she snapped back, her voice rising to match her sister’s. "It’s because of *him* and his nosey, self-righteous personality that our father is rotting in prison right now! And yet both you and Mom treat him like he’s the second coming of Christ. It’s disgusting!"
MJ’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. She placed them over her eyes for a mont, throwing her head back in pure exasperation before glaring at her sister again. "He *beat* us, Gayle! Repeatedly! Do I seriously need to spell it out for you?! I don’t know what fantasy world you’re living in where you think what Dad did wasn’t wrong—horribly, unforgivably wrong!"
Gayle’s face flushed a deep, angry red matching MJ’s hair. "And you think what Peter did was right?!" she exclaid, her voice growing breathless with fury. "He left our father hospitalized, MJ! It was bad enough that Dad needed surgery! You love to chastise our father for being violent, but how is Peter any different? He put a man in the hospital!"
Timothy sat frozen beside his wife, eyes darting back and forth between the two sisters. His mouth hung slightly open as new pieces of family history he had never fully heard spilled out. He wisely chose to remain silent, not wanting to throw gasoline on the already raging fire.
MJ threw her hands up in the air, it was very clear she was about to lose her mind. "Because Peter isn’t beating the people he loves! He isn’t terrorizing his wife and children behind closed doors! How delusional do you have to be to even try comparing the two of them? Peter stopped a violent abuser from hurting anyone else. Dad put his hands on Mom. On us. There is no equivalence here, Gayle. None!"
In the dining room, Peter and Madeline worked side by side in heavy silence, carefully arranging plates, silverware, and serving dishes. The savory aroma of roasted chicken, garlic potatoes, and fresh herbs should have made the space feel welcoming, but the loud, angry voices spilling in from the living room made the air feel thick and suffocating.
Peter glanced over at Madeline as she placed a large bowl of vegetables on the table. Her face was partially hidden behind a curtain of hair, but he could clearly see her hands trembling. She was barely holding herself together, her movents chanical and fragile, as though one wrong breath might cause her to shatter.
Peter set down the stack of plates with a quiet sigh and crossed the room without hesitation. He gently pulled her into a warm, comforting embrace, wrapping his arms around her protectively.
Madeline stiffened at first. "What are you—" Her voice cracked midway, her lips trembling as fresh tears welled in her eyes.
"It’s alright," Peter whispered softly, rubbing soothing circles on her back. "I’ve got you."
She hesitated for only a mont before lting into the hug, clutching the front of his shirt like a lifeline. "They used to be so close, you know," she whispered, her voice thick with pain. Tears stread freely down her cheeks now. "They would laugh together for hours... but now, because of him..."
A broken sob escaped her. She buried her face deeper against Peter’s chest, her shoulders shaking with repressed cries. "Because of him, they can’t even be in the sa room without tearing each other apart. Even when he’s not here, he’s still destroying our family. It’s like his ghost is haunting this house—an ugly, permanent stain you can never scrub away."
Her voice grew smaller, more fragile. "I regret it, Peter. I regret ever eting him. I regret not being stronger... not standing up sooner. I let it all happen. I let him hurt my girls..."
She began apologizing profusely, the words tumbling out between sobs as years of guilt poured out of her. Peter held her tighter, continuing to rub her back with steady, patient strokes. "It’s not your fault," he murmured gently. "You were doing the best you could in an impossible situation. You were trying to protect your daughters the only way you knew how at the ti. You shouldn’t be the one apologizing."
It took several long minutes, but Peter eventually managed to calm her breathing. He pulled back slightly and offered her a soft, reassuring smile. "Leave the rest of the table to . Go freshen up. When you co back, everything will be ready."
"I’m fine, I can’t let you do everything—" Madeline tried to protest, her voice still shaky.
Peter gave her a gentle but firm look. "Just go and trust on this. Please."
Madeline let out a long, weary sigh and finally relented. "Oh... alright." She patted his shoulder gratefully. "I appreciate you being here, Peter. You’re very reliable. More than you know."
As she walked away toward the bathroom, dabbing at her eyes, the argunt in the living room reached a fever pitch. Voices rose sharply and the sisters were now standing and shouting at each other.
"You left us!" MJ shouted, her voice echoing through the house with raw pain. "You got married and ran out as fast as you could, leaving Mom and here with him! So whatever you have to say, I don’t want to hear it!"
"That’s not—" Gayle began, her face twisted with fury.
But she never finished.
A chilling voice cut through the room like ice. It wasn’t especially loud, yet it carried an unmistakable weight that made the hairs on the back of everyone’s necks stand up.
"Okay. That is enough."
All three heads snapped toward the dining room entrance. Peter stood there, his usual easygoing expression replaced by a hard and very sharp glare. The intensity in his eyes made it crystal clear he was deeply upset.
"What—" Gayle started.
Peter’s voice left no room for argunt. "This is where you zip it, Gayle. You’re going to listen to what I have to say."
Timothy pushed himself up from the couch with a frown. "Now hold on—"
"Sit down," Peter said sternly, his tone brooking no disagreent. Timothy froze, then slowly sank back into his seat.
Peter turned his full attention to the Watson sisters. "I understand you two are having a difficult ti getting along. Family wounds run deep. But in case you haven’t noticed, you’re tearing your mother apart. When she cos back from the bathroom, I expect you both to behave civilly. I don’t care if it’s fucking pretend and make believe. And I want both of you to apologize for how you’ve been acting tonight."
"What? Why do I have to apologize? She’s the one who—" MJ started, but Peter gave her a subtle placating gesture and a aningful look that clearly said ’just go with it for now’.
He focused on Gayle next. "You barely visit as it is. And when you finally do show up, this is what happens? How do you think your mother feels watching her two daughters bicker like they can’t stand each other? She’s drowning in guilt right now, blaming herself for everything."
Both MJ and Gayle looked away, sha coloring their faces as the weight of his words settled over them.
"She has done nothing to deserve feeling like that—especially not from her own children," Peter continued, running a hand through his hair in visible exasperation. "So when she returns, I expect you to apologize, and if you can’t behave like a family, at least behave like people. Now co on... let’s eat."
A/N: Let’s start a thread, raise a hand if you just got the biggest boner for Peter rn
I’ll start: 🙋♂️
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5 advance Chapters on: patreon/Shadow_D_Monarch3
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