Fic: you can rest assured (baby!Panic)
you can rest assured
baby!Panic | 1040 words | G
"See?" Vicky says. "Boys fight, but they don't stay mad."
I need this verse in my life right now, so. Here's some baby boys fighting and making up. Set in the baby!Panic verse that I like to goof around in. TOTALLY NOT BETA'D, because I'm at work and being ridic.
For everyone who needs a pick-me-up. ♥
Greta is not sure when it starts. She thinks it was sometime this morning, when she broke out the Fischer Price band set; everything was going fine until she glanced over and saw Jon carefully taking Spencer's drumsticks out of his hand and begin tapping a careful rhythm against the plastic drumhead.
Spencer looked horrified for about five seconds, then narrowed his eyes into a deep frown. Greta had braced herself for a tantrum, but none came.
"Jon, you should really ask Spencer if he wants to share," she said, kneeling down in front of them.
Jon beamed up at her and said simply, "I'm helping him out, Miss Greta!"
Spencer did not look impressed. Greta sighed and left them alone.
Then came naptime, and as everyone was curling up with their mats and blankets, Greta distinctly heard Brendon whisper in his not-whispering voice, "You stole Spencer's sticks and you didn't say sorry." She looks up from her lesson plans to see Brendon glaring fiercely at Jon as he shoves Jon's mat a good two feet away from where Brendon, Spencer, and Ryan are huddled up together. Granted, Brendon couldn't scare a kitten with that glare, but Jon's face promptly crumples. Spencer's mouth is all scrunched up, and Ryan is watching Jon over the tops of his knees, legs hugged tightly to his chest.
"I didn't mean to!" Jon hisses back, and oh boy, his voice is already up into the high-pitched agonizing octave of a five-year-old on the verge of a serious crying fit. Greta gets up from her desk to come to his aid, partly because Jon in tears is too heartbreaking to take, and partly so that the drama unfolding in the corner of the room doesn't wake the rest of the kids.
"Boys, c'mon, no talking," she whispers, patting Brendon's shoulders, which feel really tense and angry. "Let's all nap, okay?"
"Not with him," Spencer whispers, pointing to Jon. It sounds soft but menacing, and Jon's sniffles get louder. Frankly, Greta can't blame him. He's never spent a naptime away from the other three.
To keep the peace, Greta leads Jon over to her desk and lets him sit in her lap with his fleece kitten blanket. He cries quietly against her shoulder and whispers, "'m sorry," over and over. Greta strokes his back and almost tells him he didn't do anything wrong, but she highly doubts at this point it would help. Eventually he falls asleep with his face buried in her neck, hiccuping softly. She peers over his head at the pile of boys in the corner. It's slightly disconcerting to see the three of them not quite curled into each other, like they're subconsciously leaving a space for Jon.
Vicky shows up a little later with ice cream bars--she and Greta are always careful to share treats equally with their classes, since kids tend to know things, especially when one group gets ice cream and the other doesn't. They're handing out napkins and cups of fruit punch when Vicky leans over and says in a hushed voice, "So what's up with your puppy pile? Why the long faces?" She nods her head at Jon, who is sitting by himself, looking forlornly at the other three at the other end of the table. Brendon's mouth keeps twitching, but he doesn't look over. Ryan, however, gives Jon a long, thoughtful look, while Spencer picks at his ice cream like it's broccoli, his expression one of frustrated sadness. It's pretty intense for a bunch of preschoolers.
"I guess Jon took Spencer's drumsticks and really upset Spencer," Greta replied with a sigh. "He didn't apologize, so Brendon took offense. They wouldn't even let Jon nap with them."
Vicky gasped in genuine shock. "Seriously? Poor little guy."
Greta shook her head. Jon's eyes were still really red and puffy. "I keep thinking they'll work it out on their own."
"Oh, I'm sure. Yesterday Patrick told Pete he'd never, ever speak to him again for as long as he lived, but by lunch they were sharing juice boxes. It was pretty adorable." Vicky laughed. "Look, they wouldn't be so heartbroken if they didn't care. Jon'll be back in with them by the end of the day, trust me."
Suddenly Jon gets up from his chair and walks around the table. He comes up behind Spencer and wraps his arms around him, hugging him tightly. The angle sort of smushes his face up against Spencer's cheek (which is slightly covered in ice cream), but Spencer goes completely still as Brendon's eyes flare and Ryan slowly sets his ice cream sandwich down.
"Spencer, I apologize," Jon says, but in his five-year-old, lipsy voice, it comes out, Sthpenther, I ah-palo-guise.
Spencer bites his lip, then promptly wiggles around in his chair to snuggle into Jon's chest. He doesn't hug him back, but Great swears she hears him whisper, "I don't like it when you're mean."
Brendon all but scrambles across the table to fling his arms around Jon's neck. "See, it's all better now, he's sorry!" Brendon says happily. Greta wonders if he's choking Jon a bit with the hold he's got on Jon's neck, but Jon just closes his eyes and smiles.
He looks over at Ryan and says, "I'm sorry?" again, because of course he feels like he has to apologize to all of them.
A slow, bright grin spreads over Ryan's face as he nods. He picks up his ice cream sandwich again, content to eat now that things are back to normal.
Brendon bounces beside Spencer's chair, where Jon has yet to let go of Spencer. "Jon, Spencer says you can totally play drums next time Miss Greta lets us play band again, and you should, 'cause he's gonna play banjo with me, right, Spence?"
Spencer nods into Jon's chest.
"And Ryan's gonna play trumpet!"
Ryan makes a face, but doesn't object.
"Oh, thank god," Greta breathes. A genuine, honest-to-God weight lifts off her shoulders.
"See?" Vicky says. "Boys fight, but they don't stay mad. It's kind of not programmed into them yet, y'know?"
"Yeah." Greta smiles when Brendon smacks a loud, sloppy kiss on Jon's cheek. "It's definitely one of their faults."
baby!Panic | 1040 words | G
"See?" Vicky says. "Boys fight, but they don't stay mad."
I need this verse in my life right now, so. Here's some baby boys fighting and making up. Set in the baby!Panic verse that I like to goof around in. TOTALLY NOT BETA'D, because I'm at work and being ridic.
For everyone who needs a pick-me-up. ♥
Greta is not sure when it starts. She thinks it was sometime this morning, when she broke out the Fischer Price band set; everything was going fine until she glanced over and saw Jon carefully taking Spencer's drumsticks out of his hand and begin tapping a careful rhythm against the plastic drumhead.
Spencer looked horrified for about five seconds, then narrowed his eyes into a deep frown. Greta had braced herself for a tantrum, but none came.
"Jon, you should really ask Spencer if he wants to share," she said, kneeling down in front of them.
Jon beamed up at her and said simply, "I'm helping him out, Miss Greta!"
Spencer did not look impressed. Greta sighed and left them alone.
Then came naptime, and as everyone was curling up with their mats and blankets, Greta distinctly heard Brendon whisper in his not-whispering voice, "You stole Spencer's sticks and you didn't say sorry." She looks up from her lesson plans to see Brendon glaring fiercely at Jon as he shoves Jon's mat a good two feet away from where Brendon, Spencer, and Ryan are huddled up together. Granted, Brendon couldn't scare a kitten with that glare, but Jon's face promptly crumples. Spencer's mouth is all scrunched up, and Ryan is watching Jon over the tops of his knees, legs hugged tightly to his chest.
"I didn't mean to!" Jon hisses back, and oh boy, his voice is already up into the high-pitched agonizing octave of a five-year-old on the verge of a serious crying fit. Greta gets up from her desk to come to his aid, partly because Jon in tears is too heartbreaking to take, and partly so that the drama unfolding in the corner of the room doesn't wake the rest of the kids.
"Boys, c'mon, no talking," she whispers, patting Brendon's shoulders, which feel really tense and angry. "Let's all nap, okay?"
"Not with him," Spencer whispers, pointing to Jon. It sounds soft but menacing, and Jon's sniffles get louder. Frankly, Greta can't blame him. He's never spent a naptime away from the other three.
To keep the peace, Greta leads Jon over to her desk and lets him sit in her lap with his fleece kitten blanket. He cries quietly against her shoulder and whispers, "'m sorry," over and over. Greta strokes his back and almost tells him he didn't do anything wrong, but she highly doubts at this point it would help. Eventually he falls asleep with his face buried in her neck, hiccuping softly. She peers over his head at the pile of boys in the corner. It's slightly disconcerting to see the three of them not quite curled into each other, like they're subconsciously leaving a space for Jon.
Vicky shows up a little later with ice cream bars--she and Greta are always careful to share treats equally with their classes, since kids tend to know things, especially when one group gets ice cream and the other doesn't. They're handing out napkins and cups of fruit punch when Vicky leans over and says in a hushed voice, "So what's up with your puppy pile? Why the long faces?" She nods her head at Jon, who is sitting by himself, looking forlornly at the other three at the other end of the table. Brendon's mouth keeps twitching, but he doesn't look over. Ryan, however, gives Jon a long, thoughtful look, while Spencer picks at his ice cream like it's broccoli, his expression one of frustrated sadness. It's pretty intense for a bunch of preschoolers.
"I guess Jon took Spencer's drumsticks and really upset Spencer," Greta replied with a sigh. "He didn't apologize, so Brendon took offense. They wouldn't even let Jon nap with them."
Vicky gasped in genuine shock. "Seriously? Poor little guy."
Greta shook her head. Jon's eyes were still really red and puffy. "I keep thinking they'll work it out on their own."
"Oh, I'm sure. Yesterday Patrick told Pete he'd never, ever speak to him again for as long as he lived, but by lunch they were sharing juice boxes. It was pretty adorable." Vicky laughed. "Look, they wouldn't be so heartbroken if they didn't care. Jon'll be back in with them by the end of the day, trust me."
Suddenly Jon gets up from his chair and walks around the table. He comes up behind Spencer and wraps his arms around him, hugging him tightly. The angle sort of smushes his face up against Spencer's cheek (which is slightly covered in ice cream), but Spencer goes completely still as Brendon's eyes flare and Ryan slowly sets his ice cream sandwich down.
"Spencer, I apologize," Jon says, but in his five-year-old, lipsy voice, it comes out, Sthpenther, I ah-palo-guise.
Spencer bites his lip, then promptly wiggles around in his chair to snuggle into Jon's chest. He doesn't hug him back, but Great swears she hears him whisper, "I don't like it when you're mean."
Brendon all but scrambles across the table to fling his arms around Jon's neck. "See, it's all better now, he's sorry!" Brendon says happily. Greta wonders if he's choking Jon a bit with the hold he's got on Jon's neck, but Jon just closes his eyes and smiles.
He looks over at Ryan and says, "I'm sorry?" again, because of course he feels like he has to apologize to all of them.
A slow, bright grin spreads over Ryan's face as he nods. He picks up his ice cream sandwich again, content to eat now that things are back to normal.
Brendon bounces beside Spencer's chair, where Jon has yet to let go of Spencer. "Jon, Spencer says you can totally play drums next time Miss Greta lets us play band again, and you should, 'cause he's gonna play banjo with me, right, Spence?"
Spencer nods into Jon's chest.
"And Ryan's gonna play trumpet!"
Ryan makes a face, but doesn't object.
"Oh, thank god," Greta breathes. A genuine, honest-to-God weight lifts off her shoulders.
"See?" Vicky says. "Boys fight, but they don't stay mad. It's kind of not programmed into them yet, y'know?"
"Yeah." Greta smiles when Brendon smacks a loud, sloppy kiss on Jon's cheek. "It's definitely one of their faults."