(no subject)
Title: In Which Hammie Receives Flying Lessons
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Matt and his family, plus some Matt/Janice for good measure.
Summary: And the gerbil, cage and all, is a good five feet closer to the ceiling then it should be. "Sean," Matt says, coming fully awake to glance at his son, who is standing in the middle of this mess, grinning, "you're going to have to put this stuff down."
Spoilers: Um. Let's just say through Season 3, for the sake of being neat and tidy. Okay?
Notes: I wrote this for dragonsinger, from the prompt, "Matt teaches his son to use his powers." Fluff galore. Get the toothbrush ready, because you will, I repeat, will need it. ;]
Disclaimer: Not mine.
"Matt!"
Matt Parkman squeezes his eyes shut and pulls the covers over his head.
"Matt!"
He could swear that since she's had to deal with a four year old Janice has gotten better at shouting with that special blend of exasperation, plea, and threat that makes her nigh impossible to ignore, even at -- he pauses and glances at the clock -- 7:02 on a Sunday morning.
His brain catches up to the rest of him and reminds him that his wife is yelling for him from the kitchen and they do, after all, have a four year old son who refuses to sit still. It then gives him a swift kick and up he gets, leaving the covers in a tangled mess at the foot of the bed.
"Matt," Janice says, standing in the kitchen doorway, "do something."
Matt glances into the kitchen and admires Janice's calm.
The omelet that Janice was apparently making is hovering an inch and a half out of it's frying pan, quivering slightly, still runny. The silverware is all floating, glinting in the early morning light. And the gerbil, cage and all, is a good five feet closer to the ceiling then it should be.
"Sean," Matt says, coming fully awake to glance at his son, who is standing in the middle of this mess, grinning, "you're going to have to put this stuff down."
"But look," Sean points, "the gerbil's flying. Like Uncle Peter!"
"Uncle Peter's a lot better equipped for it then Hammie is Sean." Matt says with a wry grin. The gerbil is shaking pretty badly. Of course to hear tell of "Uncle Peter's" first flying experience, it wasn't to much better.
Sean pouts, looks to his mother for support, finds none, and then sighs and looks resigned. He adores his father -- anything for daddy, even if it means no more flying gerbils. Then he frowns again and turns to his father.
"I don't know how."
Forty-five minutes later the gerbil is recovering in a corner of its cage, the silverware is in the dishwasher, and the omelet is finished, none the worse for the wear.
After breakfast Matt takes Sean into the (fenced) backyard and sits him down in the sandbox, were Sean promptly grabs his dump truck and begins to fill it with sand.
"Sean -- Sean." Matt says, grabbing his son's wrist and gently lowering the truck back to the ground. "We need to talk about this morning."
"I won't do it again." Sean promises, and picks up the dump truck again. He pauses, but only to make a four year old observation. "Hammie's a fraidycat though. I would've liked to fly."
For an instant Matt panics, imagining Sean trying to levitate himself, giggling as he rises from his sandbox, going higher, higher, until he loses control. The frantic years after the explosion made him imagine far to many times what his son's body would look like sprawled lifeless on the ground -- he thought he had left that behind.
This needs to be taken care of now.
"I'm not sure Hammie understood what was happening." Matt says carefully. "Do you?"
"I make things fly." Sean explains in a matter-of-fact voice, now making a hill of sand with the dump truck. "Pencils sometimes. Or my kite."
Which explains, Matt thinks, how Sean got his kite stuck in a tree when five minutes before he hadn't been able to get it off the ground.
"Okay." Matt says, as Sean shores up the sides of the hill with short, clumsy fingers. "Well you need to be careful what you make fly, okay? And where you do it."
Sean frowns and pauses in his construction to ask the simplest of questions. "How come?"
"Well because you could hurt someone. Hammie was scared, remember? You don't want to scare anybody, right?"
Sean shrugs, clearly unable to understand how flying could scare anybody. Matt wracks his brain for a way to explain. Sean's only ever seen people enjoy flying -- Peter and Nathan can't get enough of it, and he's even been taken for rides before, skimming the treetops and waving happily to his parents down below. Sean loves flying.
"Okay," Matt says, "you remember when Monty jumped out from the closet while Uncle Peter was baby-sitting you guys? That was scary, right?"
Sean nods, his eyes suddenly very wide.
"Okay, well some people feel like that when they fly. Especially when they don't know it's coming."
Especially, Matt thinks, when they're alone in the room with a four year old and suddenly find themselves six feet off the ground.
"'K." Sean says carelessly. Matt has to wonder if he's gotten the message across, and keeps wondering until a week later he comes across Sean having a very serious talk with his gerbil about the bogeyman, how scary closets are, and how he promises not to help him fly any more. Matt is immensely relieved, until Sean adds, as a postscript, "But maybe I can help you not be scared any more! Here."
Suddenly the gerbil is an inch in the air. "That's not so bad, right?"
Hammie doesn't seem to share Sean's opinion of this sudden levitation.
Janice comes up behind him and puts her head on his shoulder. "He's your kid." She says with a shake of her head. "Stubborn. Always wanting to help people. Or, gerbils."
Matt laughs as Hammie rises slowly toward the roof of his cage, accompanied by Sean's ever present chatter (see, it's okay, you're fine, look, it isn't scary, I like it, and pretty soon maybe we can try it in the sandbox, 'cuz then you'll land soft, and --).
Janice shakes her head again. "Definitely your kid."
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Matt and his family, plus some Matt/Janice for good measure.
Summary: And the gerbil, cage and all, is a good five feet closer to the ceiling then it should be. "Sean," Matt says, coming fully awake to glance at his son, who is standing in the middle of this mess, grinning, "you're going to have to put this stuff down."
Spoilers: Um. Let's just say through Season 3, for the sake of being neat and tidy. Okay?
Notes: I wrote this for dragonsinger, from the prompt, "Matt teaches his son to use his powers." Fluff galore. Get the toothbrush ready, because you will, I repeat, will need it. ;]
Disclaimer: Not mine.
"Matt!"
Matt Parkman squeezes his eyes shut and pulls the covers over his head.
"Matt!"
He could swear that since she's had to deal with a four year old Janice has gotten better at shouting with that special blend of exasperation, plea, and threat that makes her nigh impossible to ignore, even at -- he pauses and glances at the clock -- 7:02 on a Sunday morning.
His brain catches up to the rest of him and reminds him that his wife is yelling for him from the kitchen and they do, after all, have a four year old son who refuses to sit still. It then gives him a swift kick and up he gets, leaving the covers in a tangled mess at the foot of the bed.
"Matt," Janice says, standing in the kitchen doorway, "do something."
Matt glances into the kitchen and admires Janice's calm.
The omelet that Janice was apparently making is hovering an inch and a half out of it's frying pan, quivering slightly, still runny. The silverware is all floating, glinting in the early morning light. And the gerbil, cage and all, is a good five feet closer to the ceiling then it should be.
"Sean," Matt says, coming fully awake to glance at his son, who is standing in the middle of this mess, grinning, "you're going to have to put this stuff down."
"But look," Sean points, "the gerbil's flying. Like Uncle Peter!"
"Uncle Peter's a lot better equipped for it then Hammie is Sean." Matt says with a wry grin. The gerbil is shaking pretty badly. Of course to hear tell of "Uncle Peter's" first flying experience, it wasn't to much better.
Sean pouts, looks to his mother for support, finds none, and then sighs and looks resigned. He adores his father -- anything for daddy, even if it means no more flying gerbils. Then he frowns again and turns to his father.
"I don't know how."
Forty-five minutes later the gerbil is recovering in a corner of its cage, the silverware is in the dishwasher, and the omelet is finished, none the worse for the wear.
After breakfast Matt takes Sean into the (fenced) backyard and sits him down in the sandbox, were Sean promptly grabs his dump truck and begins to fill it with sand.
"Sean -- Sean." Matt says, grabbing his son's wrist and gently lowering the truck back to the ground. "We need to talk about this morning."
"I won't do it again." Sean promises, and picks up the dump truck again. He pauses, but only to make a four year old observation. "Hammie's a fraidycat though. I would've liked to fly."
For an instant Matt panics, imagining Sean trying to levitate himself, giggling as he rises from his sandbox, going higher, higher, until he loses control. The frantic years after the explosion made him imagine far to many times what his son's body would look like sprawled lifeless on the ground -- he thought he had left that behind.
This needs to be taken care of now.
"I'm not sure Hammie understood what was happening." Matt says carefully. "Do you?"
"I make things fly." Sean explains in a matter-of-fact voice, now making a hill of sand with the dump truck. "Pencils sometimes. Or my kite."
Which explains, Matt thinks, how Sean got his kite stuck in a tree when five minutes before he hadn't been able to get it off the ground.
"Okay." Matt says, as Sean shores up the sides of the hill with short, clumsy fingers. "Well you need to be careful what you make fly, okay? And where you do it."
Sean frowns and pauses in his construction to ask the simplest of questions. "How come?"
"Well because you could hurt someone. Hammie was scared, remember? You don't want to scare anybody, right?"
Sean shrugs, clearly unable to understand how flying could scare anybody. Matt wracks his brain for a way to explain. Sean's only ever seen people enjoy flying -- Peter and Nathan can't get enough of it, and he's even been taken for rides before, skimming the treetops and waving happily to his parents down below. Sean loves flying.
"Okay," Matt says, "you remember when Monty jumped out from the closet while Uncle Peter was baby-sitting you guys? That was scary, right?"
Sean nods, his eyes suddenly very wide.
"Okay, well some people feel like that when they fly. Especially when they don't know it's coming."
Especially, Matt thinks, when they're alone in the room with a four year old and suddenly find themselves six feet off the ground.
"'K." Sean says carelessly. Matt has to wonder if he's gotten the message across, and keeps wondering until a week later he comes across Sean having a very serious talk with his gerbil about the bogeyman, how scary closets are, and how he promises not to help him fly any more. Matt is immensely relieved, until Sean adds, as a postscript, "But maybe I can help you not be scared any more! Here."
Suddenly the gerbil is an inch in the air. "That's not so bad, right?"
Hammie doesn't seem to share Sean's opinion of this sudden levitation.
Janice comes up behind him and puts her head on his shoulder. "He's your kid." She says with a shake of her head. "Stubborn. Always wanting to help people. Or, gerbils."
Matt laughs as Hammie rises slowly toward the roof of his cage, accompanied by Sean's ever present chatter (see, it's okay, you're fine, look, it isn't scary, I like it, and pretty soon maybe we can try it in the sandbox, 'cuz then you'll land soft, and --).
Janice shakes her head again. "Definitely your kid."