"Just Playing" - PG
Title: Just Playing
Author: corellianjedi
Disclaimer: Not mine, I wish.
Words: 652
Summary: Walt amuses himself on the plane.
Rating: PG
Characters: Walt and Michael
Author's Notes: I can't be the only person to think of this, but it's been bugging me ever since "Special." I wrote this a few months ago, but just realized I hadn't posted it. Yeah, I'm good like that.
"Where'd you get that?"
"What?"
"That plane." Michael nods at Walt's hands, where he's pulling a silver toy airplane out of its cardboard and plastic box. "Where'd you get it?"
"Bought it at the gift shop while you were on the phone. Linda gave me some money." Walt picks up the plane, makes it zoom around his head.
"Linda…"
"My nanny. She gave me some money before I left and told me to buy candy for the trip. But I liked the plane better."
"Oh, okay." Michael sips at his soda, feeling the carbonation burn down his throat before he looks at Walt again. "Listen, little man: I haven't slept well for a couple of days. You mind if I take a nap?"
"Nope," Walt continues to make the plane fly over his tray-table, not even glancing at Michael.
"You need anything before I sleep?"
"Nope." Michael gets the distinct feeling that Walt isn't even listening anymore.
The plane lifts off, steeply ascending into the air, and Walt squirms in his seat to see across the aisle and out the window of the plane. He watches as the ground disappears beneath them and clouds surround the plane. More than once, he catches the big guy sitting across from him glance away from his comic book to watch him play with his plane.
"Hey, um," Walt can't bring himself to call Michael "Dad" yet. He settles for poking him on the shoulder, arousing Michael from his dozing. "You mind if I eat your pretzels?" He points to the bag that the flight attendant just dropped on Michael's lap.
"Help yourself, man," Micheal slurs sleepily.
Walt sets the bag on the floor and crushes the pretzels under his foot. He hears them crunch, and stomps a few more times before he sets the bag on his tray, tearing the cellophane and spilling the broken bits and crumbs that were once pretzel sticks onto a napkin. He piles up the crumbs and salt into a mound, smudges down a flat place with his thumb, and props a half-eaten pretzel stick in the middle. He grins and whispers, "I dub thee, the Abandoned Isle of Lloyd." He reaches for his toy plane and makes it circle his makeshift island.
"Oh no," he whispers to himself, "the engines have gone out! The plane is failing, captain! Everyone put your seatbelts on and kiss your ass goodbye!" He laughs quietly, then quickly turns to make sure Michael is still asleep; he can't imagine his father would be too happy to hear him swear.
He tilts the plane and, complete with childlike sound effects, plows the toy nose-first into the crumbs. "Boom!" He flicks the crumbs away, skidding the plane across his tray. "We've crash-landed captain! But we seem to be okay!"
"But what shall we dooooooooooo?" Walt wails softly, his voice high and cracking, and he imagines a young flight attendant falling at the feet of the cool, collected pilot. "I'll figure something out!" Walt's voice drops an octave as he grins at the story unfolding in his head.
Walt reaches for the toy when the plane lurches with turbulence. He is jerked back in his seat, the seatbelt pulling tightly at his waist. He watches the toy plane bounce to the floor along with the crumbs of his island and slide under the seat in front of him. Walt reaches for the toy in vain; his seatbelt holds him back.
"You okay, man?" Michael's awake, pulling Walt back to his seat gently.
"My plane; it fell under the seat." Michael leans down to retrieve the toy when the plane jumps again, harder than before. Michael sits back quickly, buckles his seatbelt tighter.
"I'll grab it for you when this turbulence stops, 'kay?"
"'Kay," Walt nods. He grips the armrests and closes his eyes.
I was just playin' this time, he thinks. I didn't mean it. I swear.
ETA: Yeah, I'm spamming. Deal.
Author: corellianjedi
Disclaimer: Not mine, I wish.
Words: 652
Summary: Walt amuses himself on the plane.
Rating: PG
Characters: Walt and Michael
Author's Notes: I can't be the only person to think of this, but it's been bugging me ever since "Special." I wrote this a few months ago, but just realized I hadn't posted it. Yeah, I'm good like that.
"Where'd you get that?"
"What?"
"That plane." Michael nods at Walt's hands, where he's pulling a silver toy airplane out of its cardboard and plastic box. "Where'd you get it?"
"Bought it at the gift shop while you were on the phone. Linda gave me some money." Walt picks up the plane, makes it zoom around his head.
"Linda…"
"My nanny. She gave me some money before I left and told me to buy candy for the trip. But I liked the plane better."
"Oh, okay." Michael sips at his soda, feeling the carbonation burn down his throat before he looks at Walt again. "Listen, little man: I haven't slept well for a couple of days. You mind if I take a nap?"
"Nope," Walt continues to make the plane fly over his tray-table, not even glancing at Michael.
"You need anything before I sleep?"
"Nope." Michael gets the distinct feeling that Walt isn't even listening anymore.
The plane lifts off, steeply ascending into the air, and Walt squirms in his seat to see across the aisle and out the window of the plane. He watches as the ground disappears beneath them and clouds surround the plane. More than once, he catches the big guy sitting across from him glance away from his comic book to watch him play with his plane.
"Hey, um," Walt can't bring himself to call Michael "Dad" yet. He settles for poking him on the shoulder, arousing Michael from his dozing. "You mind if I eat your pretzels?" He points to the bag that the flight attendant just dropped on Michael's lap.
"Help yourself, man," Micheal slurs sleepily.
Walt sets the bag on the floor and crushes the pretzels under his foot. He hears them crunch, and stomps a few more times before he sets the bag on his tray, tearing the cellophane and spilling the broken bits and crumbs that were once pretzel sticks onto a napkin. He piles up the crumbs and salt into a mound, smudges down a flat place with his thumb, and props a half-eaten pretzel stick in the middle. He grins and whispers, "I dub thee, the Abandoned Isle of Lloyd." He reaches for his toy plane and makes it circle his makeshift island.
"Oh no," he whispers to himself, "the engines have gone out! The plane is failing, captain! Everyone put your seatbelts on and kiss your ass goodbye!" He laughs quietly, then quickly turns to make sure Michael is still asleep; he can't imagine his father would be too happy to hear him swear.
He tilts the plane and, complete with childlike sound effects, plows the toy nose-first into the crumbs. "Boom!" He flicks the crumbs away, skidding the plane across his tray. "We've crash-landed captain! But we seem to be okay!"
"But what shall we dooooooooooo?" Walt wails softly, his voice high and cracking, and he imagines a young flight attendant falling at the feet of the cool, collected pilot. "I'll figure something out!" Walt's voice drops an octave as he grins at the story unfolding in his head.
Walt reaches for the toy when the plane lurches with turbulence. He is jerked back in his seat, the seatbelt pulling tightly at his waist. He watches the toy plane bounce to the floor along with the crumbs of his island and slide under the seat in front of him. Walt reaches for the toy in vain; his seatbelt holds him back.
"You okay, man?" Michael's awake, pulling Walt back to his seat gently.
"My plane; it fell under the seat." Michael leans down to retrieve the toy when the plane jumps again, harder than before. Michael sits back quickly, buckles his seatbelt tighter.
"I'll grab it for you when this turbulence stops, 'kay?"
"'Kay," Walt nods. He grips the armrests and closes his eyes.
I was just playin' this time, he thinks. I didn't mean it. I swear.
ETA: Yeah, I'm spamming. Deal.