A dangerous thing occurred in the late morning of the Maximoff household. Peter was bored, and when that happened objects tended to go missing. At 10:24 AM McDonald's employees made the unhappy discovery that all their children's toys were gone, stolen to be precise.

Two seconds passed and all the TVs from a local appliance store had mysteriously disappeared. Another few milliseconds went by, and the entire stock of plastic pink flamingos were nowhere to be found in Walmart. Instead, they were staked in multiple yards in the suburbs outside of D.C. along with some live ones from the zoo.

Peter had fun pulling these raids and thought them amusing; his mother did not. She had received dozens of calls from aggravated neighbors who suspected who had put the colorful birds on their property. Sighing, she hung up the phone, and marched downstairs to the basement where her son was flipping through a dozen comics at record breaking speed.

"Peter," she began.

"Hey mom. Did you hear that some flamingos escaped from the zoo? Pretty irresponsible of the zookeepers if you ask me." Peter quit looking through the comics and zipped to the couch, opening up a pack of raspberry zingers.

She leaned against the wall, sifting through ideas to preoccupy her son. Any chore she gave him he would complete it in an instance. She vetoed the suggestion of taking his little sister on an outing.

Last time that happened, her daughter ended up on the front page of the newspaper wearing a mime outfit while attempting to free all the animals at the pound. No, they didn't need any more press. In the end, she recommended he visit his girlfriend: you.

He started playing Ms. Pac-Man and replied, "She said she was busy Saturday morning."

"Maybe, whatever it is, she's done by now." In all honesty, Mrs. Maximoff wanted her son out of her hair while she sorted out the problems he caused, and you provided a nice distraction. Also, you seemed to prevent him from stealing too much, or covered up his tracks better so it couldn't be traced back to him.

Peter abandoned his game and considered his choices. He didn't need much convincing and took off in less than two heart beats, leaving his relieved mother behind. Racing into your house, he went upstairs to your bedroom and knocked a couple times. No answer.

Perhaps you weren't here. Peter almost left but stopped when he heard music playing. It was changing every few seconds; one moment it was classical, next jazz, then heavy metal. Peter walked downstairs, knowing your dislike of him appearing so fast unexpectedly, and was met with a curious site.

Toys were scattered on the kitchen floor, and two small boys were seated at the table. One, who looked about four years old, had curly black hair. He was playing with the radio, fascinated by the knobs and twisting them.

He paused to listen to the song before changing it again. The younger boy had lighter colored wispy hair, and jam smeared down his shirt, whining something that sounded like, "Mora toast."

Stunned at this surprising development, Peter just stood there, that was until you came out carrying a jar of strawberry jam.

"Okay, sheesh. Have a little patience, guys. I only have two hands." You walked out and were startled to see your boyfriend. "Peter! What are you doing here?"

He gave you a sly smile. "Wanted to see what my favorite girl was up to." He crossed over to where you were, and wrapped his arms around you, kissing your cheek.

You blushed at his casual affections and answered, "babysitting."

"Yeah, I can see that but who are they?"

"They're the Bayer's kids from down the street. This is Maximilian" You pointed to the blacked-hair toddler. "And this is Jeremiah." You pointed to the other boy who was eating a fresh piece of toast, getting more jam on himself.

Peter snorted, "Maximilian and Jeremiah? Do their parents hate them?"

You rolled your eyes but made no comment. Crouching down to Maximilian's level, you said, "Max, this is Peter. Can you say pe-ter."

The little boy smiled wide and repeated, "Peeber!"

You laughed at his mispronunciation and ruffled his hair. "Close enough."

Your boyfriend, however, was less than thrilled. "Really this is why you cancelled our plans? To look after thing one and thing two?"

"They're nice boys and I'm being paid well."

"Can you ditch them long enough to grab some snacks with me?"

"No, I can't leave the boys but..." You added seeing his sad puppy dog face at your refusal, "you're welcome to stay and help."

"Alright, I will." Peter plopped down in a chair. You offered him something to eat, but he said no and held up a bag of Hostess Donettes that he didn't have before. "These'll fill me up."

You sat at the table and bit into your own toast. It was amusing to see Peter interact with the boys; Max saw his mini powdered donuts and reached out to snatch one. Peter had to finish his dessert quicker than expected.

He also had a hard time understanding their words. What was a simple question to them was complete gibberish to him, such as Jeremiah was curious about what his Walkman was. Peter thought the toddler was asking about a yellow dinosaur.

You burst into giggles at his confusion. "He wants your Walkman, not a dino."

Peter eyed Jeremiah's sticky hands and slipped it into his pocket. "I don't think so, kid. Maybe when you're older."

Jeremiah whined and started to fuss over not having what he wanted but was distracted by a toy train you showed him. Max wasn't interested in Peter's gadget. He was too busy telling the story of their trip to the zoo yesterday. Peter scrunched his face and asked, "He saw tanks?"

"He saw snakes. They loved watching them slither around. What's worse is he wants one of his own. We had to drag him away kicking and screaming because he didn't get to bring one with him."

You shook your head at the little boy's odd fixation on the reptiles and picked up plates and cups. Depositing the dishes in the sink, you told Peter to watch the two boys while you took the trash out. You grabbed the heavy bag and hauled it outside.

Everything was going well so far. Whenever Peter was mixed with kids things usually went off the rails with some type of wild shenanigans ensuing. Lorna still had a couple of bruises from the pound incident to show for that. The problem now was what to do next.

You had taken them to the park earlier, they played with their toys while you prepared breakfast, so what else could you do to entertain them? You also had to keep an eye on Peter. There was no telling what trouble he might cause with them.

You opened up the back door and heard the delighted squealing of Max and Jeremiah. You went to the living room and screamed at the sight that met you. There were snakes everywhere. Some lounged on the couch, others slithered around the chairs, the majority were on the ground forming a scaly carpet.

A large, black and yellow snake which you guessed was an anaconda was closest to you. Its tongue darted from its mouth as if tasting your fear in the air. Peter stood in the middle of the room, seemingly proud of this accomplishment. The excited boys were standing on the table, babbling at the animals.

"Peter! What the hell is this!"

"Max said he wanted to look at the snakes again, so I brought the snakes to him." He said it as if it were the most logical conclusion.

"We can't have venomous snakes in the house! Get them out of here!" You would've stamped your foot down to emphasize your point but didn't, scared of stepping on one of the intruders by accident. Peter did as he was ordered.

The area was snake free within the five seconds to your great relief. The two boys, however, were sad to see them all gone. Peter appeared and you stared at him in shock of what happened in the short second you had left.

Your boyfriend just shrugged his shoulders and explained, "Didn't think it was a big deal. It would've kept 'em happy and they would've gotten hurt if we were watching them."

You blinked several times at his nonchalant reply. Possibly you were too tired from the exhausting morning or had been with Peter long enough that his fractured reasoning didn't concern you as much as it should have. "Why don't we try finger painting next time instead of snakes for a diversion."

"Want me to go grab some paint things right now?"

"No! We should focus on cleaning up." Hands on your hips, you surveyed the mess. The kids needed to be washed up and their jam-covered clothes changed, then you had to preoccupy them somehow while you cleaned the kitchen.

Dishes were stacked high next to the sink and the counter needed to be wiped. Maybe you could convince your boyfriend to tidy the kitchen and you could take care of the boys since he couldn't be trusted with them for any period of time.

Peter saw that look on your face; the look you had when forming a battle plan. Most likely you were going to split up the chores to get them done quicker but why do that if he could do it all himself to give you a break.

Pulling his goggles over his eyes, he raced to the kitchen, washed the pans, plates, and utensils, dried them, put each one in the cupboard, and wiped the counters.

Completed with the task, he ran over to Maximilian and Jeremiah. Both boys' faces and hands were sticky from the jam, Jeremiah more so. He went to the bathroom, splashing water on the kids and rubbing it off with a towel.

Peter changed their clothes and even gave each of them a hairdo before plopping them on the couch. He turned on the TV, picked you up from where you were still standing, and flopped down on the opposite end of the couch. The whole process took less than a second.

Your insides churned as in less than a blink of an eye, you were cuddling with Peter in the living room. You glanced around to see the kitchen spotless, and TV playing reruns of the Jetsons. Unbothered, Maximilian and Jeremiah, both of whom had spiked hair, were watching the show. You looked to Peter for confirmation that he did this. The smug expression on his face alone answered your question.

"Thanks, Pete." You snuggled closer to him, relaxing after the hectic morning.

He shrugged and replied, "All in a day's work of a superhero, you know." He kicked his feet up on the coffee table and wrapped an arm around you. The boys saw you together and wanted to join. Maximilian went to Peter's left and nestled in the crook of his arm and Jeremiah crawled into your lap, slowly dozing off to sleep. Careful to not wake them, you tapped your boyfriend on the shoulder.

"I'm glad you stayed," you whispered. Even with the stunt he pulled with the snakes, you were grateful to share this moment. You placed a delicate kiss on his lips in gratitude. He returned it, thinking babysitting was a lot of fun and hoped he could do it again.