(no subject)
WHO: bb!Peter and bb!Hank
WHERE: inside the MAC
WHEN: Friday morning
WARNINGS: Possible woobie!
SUMMARY: After waking up in a mysterious apartment, six-year-old Peter ventures out in search of his aunt and uncle.
FORMAT: Para to start, then whatever.
For the first few minutes after Peter woke up, he was too confused to be scared. The last thing he remembered was walking home from school. Now, he was curled up in a bed in a room he'd never seen before. Though he felt like he'd been sleeping for hours, he was wearing the same clothes as before: button-down shirt with short sleeves, vest, slacks. His glasses were still on, and so were his shoes. That alone was almost more of a puzzle than the room itself; Aunt May didn't like him getting his school clothes wrinkly, and she would never let him sleep with his shoes on.
Maybe he hadn't meant to take a nap. He'd just gotten Norby and the Court Jester out from the library -- maybe he'd fallen asleep while reading, and he was just confused, like the time he'd gone to wake Uncle Ben from his afternoon nap and Uncle Ben had called him "Richard," which was Peter's dad's name. Aunt May said that only happened when you were old, but maybe almost six and a half was old enough. He couldn't find Norby or his backpack on the floor, though, and this wasn't his bedroom, no matter how confused he was.
Searching, he explored the room from end to end, touching an item here and there. Not that there were many -- an alarm clock, a set of dog tags like Uncle Ben's, and a toy walkie-talkie on the nightstand; a black backpack on the floor (not red like Peter's own); a funny pair of metal bracelets on the desk that Peter prodded at for a few moments, fascinated. Strangely, there was a costume among the clothes on the floor, even though Halloween was months away. It was all blue and red like one of the heroes Uncle Ben told him about, the ones from the war, but there was a spider on the chest instead of a star, and the pattern was all wrong for it to be Captain America. He picked it up to look more closely, but the musty odor of dried sweat made him wrinkle his nose and drop it immediately, rubbng his hands vigorously against his slacks.
"Aunt May? Uncle Ben?" Peter called, walking into the living room. But there was no one there, and no one in the kitchen, either. The kitchen table was rickety and unadorned, not like the big round table at home with a cheery dishcloth where they ate breakfast and lunch and Peter did his homework. Not finding a note, he looked on both chairs and on the floor underneath the table, thinking it might have blown off. But there wasn't a note. His aunt and uncle would never have left him sleeping alone if it weren't an emergency, and never without leaving a note. But he'd never been in this apartment, either, and he'd never woken up without remembering how he'd gotten someplace, and he couldn't find his aunt and uncle, they were just gone, gone like --
Peter went back out to the living room and sat down on the couch, taking deep breaths. There was nothing to cry about. He must have gotten lost somehow, maybe hit his head and gotten amnesia -- he'd seen a movie like that, once, or half a movie anyway before Aunt May had turned it off and made him go to bed. All he had to do was stay where he was and someone would come find him. Maybe someone had already found him and left him in their apartment while they went to get the police, and the police would get his aunt and uncle. That must be it.
Trying to keep busy, Peter first looked for a phone (there wasn't one, strangely), then went and peered through all the windows (he recognized Manhattan, but it didn't look like anywhere he'd been with Aunt May and Uncle Ben). Next was the TV. It was small, but obviously more expensive than the one in the Parker house. The colors were brighter and the remote control had a lot more buttons. None of his shows were on except Sesame Street, though, and six and a half was way too old for Sesame Street. There were magazines on the coffee table that looked interesting, with lots of brightly colored model molecules on the cover, but the print was very small and he couldn't understand enough of the words, even reading slowly and out loud. Still, he read as many articles as he could, trying to ignore the churning in his stomach.
Eventually, Peter gave in and got up to look for food. He felt guilty about eating someone's food without asking, but there wasn't a note and his tummy was rumbling so hard it hurt. (For more reasons than hunger, but he wasn't going to think about that.) After using a chair to (carefully!) peer in all the cabinets, Peter couldn't find anything to eat besides a half-empty white carton of mushy, sauce-drenched noodles in the fridge. It smelled funny, and had little fuzzy blobs all across the top, so Peter put it back in the fridge carefully and then sat down at the table to think, trying not to sniffle.
If you were lost, you were supposed to stay in one place until an adult came to find you. But Peter couldn't remember how he got here, so he didn't know if he was really lost. All he knew was that he was hungry and lonely and scared and if only there was a phone he could just call home and Uncle Ben would come pick him up --
-- Peter swiped his eyes with the back of his hand, thinking that over. There wasn't a phone in here, but he was in the city, and in the city there were payphones everywhere. He didn't have any money, but Uncle Ben had taught him how to call collect, just "in case of emergencies," and Peter was pretty sure waking up in someone's empty Manhattan apartment without remembering how he'd gotten there was about as big an emergency as you could get.
So he'd find a payphone. Call collect. Then Uncle Ben would come to get him, maybe even Aunt May too, and then they would go home and he could have some of Aunt May's lasagna. Maybe they could even go get burgers and milkshakes because Peter had been very brave, and only cried a little.
Firm with newfound resolve, Peter made his way to the apartment entrance. With one final glance at the unfamiliar surroundings, he opened the door and slipped into the hallway.
WHERE: inside the MAC
WHEN: Friday morning
WARNINGS: Possible woobie!
SUMMARY: After waking up in a mysterious apartment, six-year-old Peter ventures out in search of his aunt and uncle.
FORMAT: Para to start, then whatever.
For the first few minutes after Peter woke up, he was too confused to be scared. The last thing he remembered was walking home from school. Now, he was curled up in a bed in a room he'd never seen before. Though he felt like he'd been sleeping for hours, he was wearing the same clothes as before: button-down shirt with short sleeves, vest, slacks. His glasses were still on, and so were his shoes. That alone was almost more of a puzzle than the room itself; Aunt May didn't like him getting his school clothes wrinkly, and she would never let him sleep with his shoes on.
Maybe he hadn't meant to take a nap. He'd just gotten Norby and the Court Jester out from the library -- maybe he'd fallen asleep while reading, and he was just confused, like the time he'd gone to wake Uncle Ben from his afternoon nap and Uncle Ben had called him "Richard," which was Peter's dad's name. Aunt May said that only happened when you were old, but maybe almost six and a half was old enough. He couldn't find Norby or his backpack on the floor, though, and this wasn't his bedroom, no matter how confused he was.
Searching, he explored the room from end to end, touching an item here and there. Not that there were many -- an alarm clock, a set of dog tags like Uncle Ben's, and a toy walkie-talkie on the nightstand; a black backpack on the floor (not red like Peter's own); a funny pair of metal bracelets on the desk that Peter prodded at for a few moments, fascinated. Strangely, there was a costume among the clothes on the floor, even though Halloween was months away. It was all blue and red like one of the heroes Uncle Ben told him about, the ones from the war, but there was a spider on the chest instead of a star, and the pattern was all wrong for it to be Captain America. He picked it up to look more closely, but the musty odor of dried sweat made him wrinkle his nose and drop it immediately, rubbng his hands vigorously against his slacks.
"Aunt May? Uncle Ben?" Peter called, walking into the living room. But there was no one there, and no one in the kitchen, either. The kitchen table was rickety and unadorned, not like the big round table at home with a cheery dishcloth where they ate breakfast and lunch and Peter did his homework. Not finding a note, he looked on both chairs and on the floor underneath the table, thinking it might have blown off. But there wasn't a note. His aunt and uncle would never have left him sleeping alone if it weren't an emergency, and never without leaving a note. But he'd never been in this apartment, either, and he'd never woken up without remembering how he'd gotten someplace, and he couldn't find his aunt and uncle, they were just gone, gone like --
Peter went back out to the living room and sat down on the couch, taking deep breaths. There was nothing to cry about. He must have gotten lost somehow, maybe hit his head and gotten amnesia -- he'd seen a movie like that, once, or half a movie anyway before Aunt May had turned it off and made him go to bed. All he had to do was stay where he was and someone would come find him. Maybe someone had already found him and left him in their apartment while they went to get the police, and the police would get his aunt and uncle. That must be it.
Trying to keep busy, Peter first looked for a phone (there wasn't one, strangely), then went and peered through all the windows (he recognized Manhattan, but it didn't look like anywhere he'd been with Aunt May and Uncle Ben). Next was the TV. It was small, but obviously more expensive than the one in the Parker house. The colors were brighter and the remote control had a lot more buttons. None of his shows were on except Sesame Street, though, and six and a half was way too old for Sesame Street. There were magazines on the coffee table that looked interesting, with lots of brightly colored model molecules on the cover, but the print was very small and he couldn't understand enough of the words, even reading slowly and out loud. Still, he read as many articles as he could, trying to ignore the churning in his stomach.
Eventually, Peter gave in and got up to look for food. He felt guilty about eating someone's food without asking, but there wasn't a note and his tummy was rumbling so hard it hurt. (For more reasons than hunger, but he wasn't going to think about that.) After using a chair to (carefully!) peer in all the cabinets, Peter couldn't find anything to eat besides a half-empty white carton of mushy, sauce-drenched noodles in the fridge. It smelled funny, and had little fuzzy blobs all across the top, so Peter put it back in the fridge carefully and then sat down at the table to think, trying not to sniffle.
If you were lost, you were supposed to stay in one place until an adult came to find you. But Peter couldn't remember how he got here, so he didn't know if he was really lost. All he knew was that he was hungry and lonely and scared and if only there was a phone he could just call home and Uncle Ben would come pick him up --
-- Peter swiped his eyes with the back of his hand, thinking that over. There wasn't a phone in here, but he was in the city, and in the city there were payphones everywhere. He didn't have any money, but Uncle Ben had taught him how to call collect, just "in case of emergencies," and Peter was pretty sure waking up in someone's empty Manhattan apartment without remembering how he'd gotten there was about as big an emergency as you could get.
So he'd find a payphone. Call collect. Then Uncle Ben would come to get him, maybe even Aunt May too, and then they would go home and he could have some of Aunt May's lasagna. Maybe they could even go get burgers and milkshakes because Peter had been very brave, and only cried a little.
Firm with newfound resolve, Peter made his way to the apartment entrance. With one final glance at the unfamiliar surroundings, he opened the door and slipped into the hallway.