MCA #4-8, all day Sunday
The white eyes freaked Nathan out.
They came as a package deal with the artwork, which also freaked Nathan out. Ditto the way Peter was oblivious to the world so long as charcoal pencil scraped across paper. However a Peter who was white-eyed and oblivious was a Peter who was not throwing himself into the middle of attempts to take sentient statues down and therefore this was one of many things Nathan was prepared to live with.
The drawing had been Peter's idea. He'd thrown a tantrum when Nathan refused to let him out of the apartment. He'd snitted about self-healing, and unlocking doors, and "Maybe I'll just fly out of here. Then how are you going to stop me?"
But Nathan had 16 years of experience with Peter's temper tantrums. He knew how to ride it out, let Peter exhaust himself, and use quiet firmness to make sure Peter did what Nathan told him to do. At which point Peter had said "Fine. If I can't help out there, I'll figure out how to help in here." and got lost in his drawing.
Nathan didn't interrupt him. He made sure nothing interrupted Peter, which meant slipping freshly sharpened pencils and new legal pads brimming with blank pages into Peter's hands. Nathan didn't know what would happen if Peter ran out of supplies in the middle of a trance and he decided that today wasn't going to be the day he found out. Besides, this allowed him to flip through the filled legal pads and tear out, then shred, any pictures Nathan felt Peter never needed to know about.
It was during once such trip to the shredder that Peter finally blinked out of it. He looked around, his eyes going from Nathan to himself to the clock to the window to the pad back to Nathan again.
"Done?" Nathan asked.
"It's dark," Peter replied.
"You've been at it for a while." Nathan showed no signs at all of how worried that made him feel. It was like dealing with a little kid - they'd cry if they saw you cry. Peter had always been like that. "Finally get the picture you wanted?"
Peter looked down at the page in front of him. From where Nathan stood he could see lines that suggested Sam Winchester's not quite as annoying as Peter's, but still eye-rollingly long floppy hair. "Uh, yeah," Peter said. "I guess."
"What'd you draw?" Nathan asked, trying to come closer to see details without making it obvious.
"Sam." Peter tore the page out of the pad and crumpled it, looking for a trash can to throw it into. "Which - which means he's okay. Or he will be. Just like with Isabel."
"Guess so," Nathan said. He motioned towards a trash bin Peter could use, figuring he could fish the paper out later to find out what was on it. "Hungry?"
"Starving," Peter said. He tossed the balled paper into the bin with an aim that was possibly spot-on due to telekenisis. "Think you can whip up some pasta?"
"I'm sure I can manage it," Nathan said, and headed into the kitchen.
He didn't see Peter hesitate, then TK the paper back out of the can, then stuff it into his pants pocket for later.
Which was a shame as he probably would've been really interested in that picture.
[establishy!]
They came as a package deal with the artwork, which also freaked Nathan out. Ditto the way Peter was oblivious to the world so long as charcoal pencil scraped across paper. However a Peter who was white-eyed and oblivious was a Peter who was not throwing himself into the middle of attempts to take sentient statues down and therefore this was one of many things Nathan was prepared to live with.
The drawing had been Peter's idea. He'd thrown a tantrum when Nathan refused to let him out of the apartment. He'd snitted about self-healing, and unlocking doors, and "Maybe I'll just fly out of here. Then how are you going to stop me?"
But Nathan had 16 years of experience with Peter's temper tantrums. He knew how to ride it out, let Peter exhaust himself, and use quiet firmness to make sure Peter did what Nathan told him to do. At which point Peter had said "Fine. If I can't help out there, I'll figure out how to help in here." and got lost in his drawing.
Nathan didn't interrupt him. He made sure nothing interrupted Peter, which meant slipping freshly sharpened pencils and new legal pads brimming with blank pages into Peter's hands. Nathan didn't know what would happen if Peter ran out of supplies in the middle of a trance and he decided that today wasn't going to be the day he found out. Besides, this allowed him to flip through the filled legal pads and tear out, then shred, any pictures Nathan felt Peter never needed to know about.
It was during once such trip to the shredder that Peter finally blinked out of it. He looked around, his eyes going from Nathan to himself to the clock to the window to the pad back to Nathan again.
"Done?" Nathan asked.
"It's dark," Peter replied.
"You've been at it for a while." Nathan showed no signs at all of how worried that made him feel. It was like dealing with a little kid - they'd cry if they saw you cry. Peter had always been like that. "Finally get the picture you wanted?"
Peter looked down at the page in front of him. From where Nathan stood he could see lines that suggested Sam Winchester's not quite as annoying as Peter's, but still eye-rollingly long floppy hair. "Uh, yeah," Peter said. "I guess."
"What'd you draw?" Nathan asked, trying to come closer to see details without making it obvious.
"Sam." Peter tore the page out of the pad and crumpled it, looking for a trash can to throw it into. "Which - which means he's okay. Or he will be. Just like with Isabel."
"Guess so," Nathan said. He motioned towards a trash bin Peter could use, figuring he could fish the paper out later to find out what was on it. "Hungry?"
"Starving," Peter said. He tossed the balled paper into the bin with an aim that was possibly spot-on due to telekenisis. "Think you can whip up some pasta?"
"I'm sure I can manage it," Nathan said, and headed into the kitchen.
He didn't see Peter hesitate, then TK the paper back out of the can, then stuff it into his pants pocket for later.
Which was a shame as he probably would've been really interested in that picture.
[establishy!]