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08 May 2011 @ 06:31 am
 
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.
 
 
 
if (defined or != "") { print "
" + "
"; } littlestbigfoot on May 8th, 2011 05:36 am (UTC)
Hank had known immediately that something was wrong. Going from an Illinios farm to a big city in New York was the kind of transition that doesn't take much time to recognize. He'd poke around the apartment in much the same way, but probably in a less careful way.

He'd fiddled with the DVD player already, not entirely sure of its purpose at first. After he'd put it back together, he would've spent a couple hours watching The Day The Earth Stood Still if his attention hadn't been caught by the bookshelf.

There were so many, and so little time to read! He grabbed one about Gregor Mendel and prepared to dig in, but the language was a bit too complicated. He'd have to keep this one on him and try again later. Some of the others didn't even have any words he recognized! This Dante guy must've known a lot of really special words.

Heading back into the bedroom, the bright blue walkie-talkie on the nightstand was especially impressive. It was smaller than most walkie-talkies he'd ever seen, but the buttons were big, like they were made for someone with hands even bigger than his! He pulled apart a few panels to get a closer look, but the circuitry looked too complex, he'd have to get back to it later. So he stuffed it in his pocket and moved on to the pince-nez lying next to them. Way too big for his face, and looking through them made his vision blurry. Likely signs of a weaker prescription, so he put back on his own glasses and left the pince-nez on the bed.

That's when he saw it. Blue fur! it was scattered across the sheets, like a cat had been laying on it for a while and no one cleaned up after them yet. He stuffed some in his pocket for later analysis.

Wandering back to the main room, he helped himself to a few muffins as he examined the lock on the door. They were delicious. The pattern on the lock looked familiar, so he grabbed the dog tags from the bedroom and tried them. They fit! And they had his name on them, too! It was like a sign.

And so, with a broken communicator in one pocket, a handful of blue fur in the other, and Gregor Mendel under his arm, he hopped out into the hallway to explore further, taking note of the number on his door. He went through a few floors that looked just the same as his before he saw another kid coming through his door.

Eager to meet the stranger, Hank bounced off the wall and landed about six feet away from Peter, letting out an enthusiastic "Hi!"
Peter Parker: eep!incywincier on May 9th, 2011 01:23 am (UTC)
When Peter had fantasized about someone coming to rescue him in the apartment where he'd been mysteriously stranded, he'd been thinking of Uncle Ben and Aunt May, or else a policeman. Maybe a fireman at a stretch, although he didn't think firemen came to rescue lost people, only cats in trees. He certainly hadn't imagined that the first thing he'd see when he ventured out was an older boy about twice his size, jumping at him out of nowhere.

He yelped, and jumped back behind the door, closing it with a slam.
if (defined or != "") { print "
" + "
"; } littlestbigfoot on May 9th, 2011 03:21 am (UTC)
He was disappointed to see the new kid disappear again. He was hoping to make a new friend. He approached the door cautiously and knocked gently.

"Hello, are you in good condition? My apparition is Henry Phillip McCoy, but I'm usually known as Hank. What's yours?"
Peter Parker: eep!incywincier on May 9th, 2011 01:47 pm (UTC)
Once behind the door, Peter felt a little silly. It was just another kid! Nobody he needed to be scared of. Still, he opened the door just a crack, carefully peering out.

"I'm Peter."
if (defined or != "") { print "
" + "
"; } littlestbigfoot on May 9th, 2011 05:22 pm (UTC)
Oh my, now that he's had a closer look, he can see it's a little boy just like him! But maybe somewhat littler.

"Your spectaculars look a lot like mine!" He brings the book out from under his arm. "Are you familial with Gregor Mendel? I am most preferential of him, he's the father of modern geneticists!"
Peter Parker: glasses pushincywincier on May 9th, 2011 09:56 pm (UTC)
Peter blinks owlishly, looking between Hank and the book. He understood all the little words the older boy was using, and even a few of the big words, but none of it seemed to fit quite together.

"... What's a genetist?" he asked eventually.
if (defined or != "") { print "
" + "
"; } littlestbigfoot on May 10th, 2011 01:13 am (UTC)
Hank had to think about that for a second.

"They're the components within us that detriment our very cosmopolitan! They're encoddled into our DNA and inhierarchied from our parents!"
Peter Parker: why so tallincywincier on May 10th, 2011 08:34 pm (UTC)
Peter wrinkled his nose. "I don't know all those big words," he admitted.
if (defined or != "") { print "
" + "
"; } littlestbigfoot on May 10th, 2011 11:01 pm (UTC)
He tried to think of a simpler explanation, but it was not at all easy.

"Geneticists are the traits in our parents that determine...how much like them we are, and how."
Peter Parker: lookit that little faceincywincier on May 11th, 2011 05:54 pm (UTC)
"Oooh," Peter said, thoughtfully. "Like how I have brown hair like my dad and brown eyes like my mom? That's what Aunt May and Uncle Ben said."

He chewed his lip. "Have you seen my aunt and uncle? I think I'm lost."
if (defined or != "") { print "
" + "
"; } littlestbigfoot on May 11th, 2011 07:38 pm (UTC)
"Exactly like that!" Hank beamed, glad he could impart the concept.

He started glancing around the hallway. "You're the initial person I have encumbered since my arrival, but I can assimilate you on your search, perhaps?"
Peter Parker: why so tallincywincier on May 11th, 2011 11:34 pm (UTC)
Peter got the gist. "Thank you," he said shyly. "I waited and waited because you're supposed to stay in one place if you get lost, but no one came to get me and I'm hungry and there wasn't anything to eat and there's no phone so I can't call collect like Uncle Ben taught me."
if (defined or != "") { print "
" + "
"; } littlestbigfoot on May 12th, 2011 03:20 am (UTC)
"I couldn't localize a phone, either! The only thing I could discover was this funny walkie-talkie, but I still haven't reconstructed it..."

He reaches in his pocket and pulls out the pieces of his comm. There are a few of them, but it isn't pulled apart yet to the degree that you wouldn't normally recognize what it is.
Peter Parker: omg squee!incywincier on May 13th, 2011 12:45 am (UTC)
Suddenly excited, Peter leans in to peer at the device in Hank's hands. "I saw one of those! I mean, I think I did ... it's smaller and not blue like yours, but I think it was a walkie-talkie ... it's in the bedroom, come on!"

He tugs Hank towards the room where he'd woken up not too long before.
if (defined or != "") { print "
" + "
"; } littlestbigfoot on May 13th, 2011 01:08 am (UTC)
"Oh, excellent!" he said as he was dragged along behind. "If I'm unable to recombobulate this one, then perhaps we can recognize how to utilize that one!"
Peter Parker: glasses pushincywincier on May 13th, 2011 01:18 am (UTC)
Peter paused in the doorway, chewing his lip. "D'you think it's okay if we borrow it?" he asked, a bit anxious. "I dunno who lives here, it was empty when I woke up."
if (defined or != "") { print "
" + "
"; } littlestbigfoot on May 13th, 2011 01:25 am (UTC)
Hank pulled the dog tags out of his pocket and showed them to Peter. "Did you ever find the keys? Because the one to the room I woke up in had my name on them!"
Peter Parker: lookit that little faceincywincier on May 13th, 2011 07:38 pm (UTC)
"Oh, yeah!" Peter nodded, or rather bobbed, his head. "They were both on the table next to the bed. Here, I can show you!"

And Hank was dragged to the nightstand, where indeed, there was a communicator and a set of dog tags. Peter picked up the tags and brought them close to his face to read the fine print. "Hey, this one has my name! 'Peter Benjamin Parker, Spider-Man.'"

He looked up at Hank, brows furrowed. "So the keys and the walkie-talkie are for me? What about whoever lives here?"
if (defined or != "") { print "
" + "
"; } littlestbigfoot on May 14th, 2011 05:09 am (UTC)
Hank was a bit preoccupied with the red-ad-blue pajamas on the floor when Peter spoke. "I suppose it's plausible! But there are so many curious things about... Whoever does live here has an interesting taste in fashion."
Peter Parker: glasses pushincywincier on May 14th, 2011 11:51 am (UTC)
Peter turned to look at what Hank was examining. "Oh, yeah! Maybe he went to, um, a costume party? It's months 'til Halloween."
if (defined or != "") { print "
" + "
"; } littlestbigfoot on May 14th, 2011 03:52 pm (UTC)
"Costume parties are always most enjoinable!" He turned it over and admired the spider on the front. "I'm rather fondled of the colors on this one."

Edited at 2011-05-14 06:30 pm (UTC)
Peter Parker: lookit that little faceincywincier on May 15th, 2011 01:34 am (UTC)
"I wonder why there's webs and stuff on it," Peter said, crouching down to give the it a closer look. "All the spiders I've seen are brown or black. I guess there are black widows..." He shudders.
if (defined or != "") { print "
" + "
"; } littlestbigfoot on May 15th, 2011 09:02 am (UTC)
Hank tried to consider a few possibilities, but couldn't put any rel logic to the situation. He was getting used to that. "Perhaps he is a circus percolator? That would call for colors that would otherwise be inapproximate for the theme."
Peter Parker: glasses pushincywincier on May 16th, 2011 01:26 am (UTC)
"Like a clown?" Peter said, looking back up at Hank. "But clown clothes are really baggy. And they have big shoes and a red nose and a white sticking-out part on their shirt."
if (defined or != "") { print "
" + "
"; } littlestbigfoot on May 16th, 2011 07:25 am (UTC)
"Or an acrobat!" He stretched at a section of the sleeve, as if to test a hypothesis. "They tend to wear more form-fittening gourmets, and always with lush colors."
Peter Parker: glasses pushincywincier on May 17th, 2011 09:09 pm (UTC)
"Still seems weird that there's a spider on the front, though," Peter said thoughtfully. "Spiders are creepy and stuff."
if (defined or != "") { print "
" + "
"; } littlestbigfoot on May 17th, 2011 11:28 pm (UTC)
"My dad says they're very utilitarian. Without spiders, our crops would be defenestrated by pests!" Hank hadn't spent too much time helping his father on the farm at that age, but he'd picked up a thing or two already.