voidtreckerexpress | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Who: Peter && OPEN
Where: various catch-all
When: Month: Apple; Day: 3
What: Peter hanging around on the train; gets bored
Warnings: uh... possibly language?

{ Breakfast! }

Peter had tried to get sleep early-he really had. He wasn't too sure exactly what time it was when crawled into his top bunk but he knew it wasn't that late. He pulled the blankets up and rolled over on his side to curl up and hopefully drift off to sleep. Of course it doesn't work. He stares at the wall of Cabin 1A and tries to get his mind to calm down.

It's hours later when he finally gives up trying to sleep and rolls over to see if he can make out Gwen's silhouette in the darkened Cabin. He wonders if she's asleep-what she's dreaming about if she is asleep. He hopes it's a nice dream. He hopes both of his other Cabin mates are having nice dreams-even the one that's a little... extra and maybe a bit self-centered. They deserve to have nice dreams. He lets out a quiet sigh and glances up at the ceiling, searching it for something he can focus on and follow with his eyes.

It's several more hours before he's finally asleep.

when morning comes-Peter's late to breakfast prep again on account of he's fast asleep and stays that way until well into the middle of the morning. He doesn't have a great grasp of time being as they're in the void but it feels like it's around eleven when he finally wakes up. He crawls out of his bed and heads to the dining car-grabbing coffee that he knows he'll need, and some breakfast. He settles into the same seat he'd been in yesterday. Just like Yesterday, his hairs a mess and he's still in his pajamas. He sets his stuff down, yawns and lays his head on the table just like he'd done yesterday morning.

{ Lunch Prep }

Peter's on his fifth cup of coffee that's mostly just cream and sugar at this point but there are no energy drinks to be found and he has to get energy somehow. Luckily, the effects of five cups of coffee on his metabolism aren't quite the same as they would be on a normal one. He's still jittery though, hands shaking as he tries to help make some egg themed sandwich-wait what was the next ingredient?

He's taken time to get dressed by this point-mostly anyway. He's got his t-shirt on underneath his hoodie because he just doesn't care much for the polo-it's a little scratchy and with his senses fluctuating off and on here and there he'd rather not deal with a little scratchy turning into 'omg there are needles in my shirt' should he dial up to eleven or worse.

"My Aunt's not really the best at cooking." He explains conversationally as he moves over to measure something out. "I mean.. she's not terrible... but she burns stuff a lot." His expression softens though as he thinks about May-will he get to see her again? He doesn't know and that thought bothers him more than anything else on the train ever could.

"Uh... is it supposed to-I think I put too much in?"

{ Cabin A }

Peter's bored. He was bored at this time yesterday and he's bored now. There's very little to do on the train and he really, really hopes that if the train stops somewhere (it's gotta stop somewhere, right? It'll need fuel eventually??) he's going to try and stock up on... stuff. He hasn't decided what that stuff is gonna be but he's definitely gonna stock up on it if only to keep himself from getting so bored.

He's back in his bed, staring up at the ceiling with his arms tucked behind his head. He'd try to nap if he thought it'd do any good but he knows he'll just end up not sleeping later-not that he was going to sleep anyways. He lets out a sigh and sits up, climbing down and stepping out of 1A. He moves over to the screen-what was it called again? Communication point??- and messes with the screen some, going through the list of available options before he settles on a game just mindless enough to be addicting and it gives him something to do.

{ Are we there yet? }

Dinner prep starts in about an hour and Peter has ditched his purple hoodie back in 1A. Instead, he's wearing his 'find x' t-shirt and sitting on one of the benches as he watches the void-or stares at it. He's not really watching it so much as completely zoned out while facing it's direction.

He's got so many questions he wants to ask-what kind of void is it-are they traveling between universes. Will they get to go home? Is there a reason they're riding this train? Will any one turn up? Sadly, no one can really answer those questions. If he could just get some answers maybe he'd feel better-that wasn't to stay he felt bad but maybe a little uneasy considering it's been three days since they started this journey.

"Aren't we there yet?" He whines to no one in particular as his head drops down in defeat. "It's been three days already, we gotta be at least... almost where ever it is we're going, right?"

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Peter coughs out a bit more, and then takes a deep breath, face now completely devoid of color and looking even more like a zombie.

"S-sorry, Mr Stark..." He forces out, sounding completely miserable as he's hefted up some more. He really didn't mean for that to happen-he'll clean it up-honest! Just... maybe after-he swallows thickly to keep from getting sick again and lets Manabu lead him to the bathroom. He crashes down to the toilet, and almost immediately spits up more sick and bile.

"Shit..." He whines. "I'm so-" Blegh. "-Sorry."

As Peter spills the rest of his guts, Manabu rubs his back with one hand, leaning his weight against the doorframe with another. Gosh, he can't help but feel sorry for the poor kid: spirited away on some mystery-train with a bunch of strangers is bad enough, but apparently being delicate to every other thing in said train is a bit much! He'll have to go sniffing around for hazmat suits or some other kind of PPE for the kid before he accidentally breaks an arm or something...

"You're fine," he assures, giving him a light pat. "People get sick! It's normal. Just don't push yourself."

It's not like any of them have anywhere urgent to be or something...

He straightens back up, yanking a hand towel off its ring and offers it when Peter resurfaces, politely keeping his focus just off of him, then over his shoulder, listening for sound of footsteps. If the roles were reversed, he's sure he'd rather not be gawked at, either.

Peter lets out a pitiful moan as he stares down into the toilet bowl and wrinkles his nose. This is the absolute worst place to be. He lets out a breath and starts to sit back-running a hand through his curly hair. His mind replays the whole thing over again and he's back over the toilet-heaving up bile.

"Mr Stark is gonna kill me." He whines as he takes the towel-still not sure if he's quite done yet. At least he didn't manage to yak up all over some designer brand shoes that probably cost more than three months rent!

"I was fine this morning." He argues- "I mean.. I think was. Didn't sleep much but that's normal."

"This whole thing is pretty stressful, isn't it?" Manabu offers, grimacing. Kid's exaggerating, right? That Stark-guy seems pretty brusque, but not outright irrational. Why would he lay into him over getting sick? It's not like he'd want to.

"I think you can be forgiven for being out-of-sorts in a situation like this. Peter, right?"

...This is the Peter he mentioned the other day, too, isn't it? All the more reason to assume there'd really be no threat of being punished for this.

If looked at, Manabu will smile sympathetically and nod. But all the same, he goes on.

"I'm Manabu. If you're really worried about getting in trouble? I'll vouch for you. Nobody's going to get yelled down for a weak stomach today."

It was gross, but when you have little kids of your own, you get used to gross. He'd been so hell bent on not doing the chores he was assigned, but really if he was asked if he'd be willing to do individuals laundry instead of just 'everyone's' he would be much more agreeable. It was the principle of the matter, after all.

Anyway, he comes downstairs after a few minutes with a deep frown on his face. Coming up to Manabu, he asks, "Was this just a sudden attack or what happened?" Even with slightly soiled pant cuffs, he had a bit of a stern parent look to his posture. Underneath, it was the worry causing it not because he was getting ready to let the kid have it.

Peter doesn't really think Tony's gonna kill him over being sick-if he was sick over his own carelessness, probably-but not for this since he has no idea what caused it. All he knows is that it sucks. 2/10 would not recommend.

"Yeah..." Peter breathes as he sits back again, still pale and hair sticking to his face. "Peter Parker. Nice to-"

He doesn't finish and lust leans over the bowl again-though this time nothing comes out.

"S-S'up Mr Stark?" He offers pathetically before heaving again.

Manabu has to do a bit of a double-take with Stark's appearance, putting pleasantries on-hold to get on-task. Before he can get a word in edge-wise, Peter's back over the bowl; Manabu winces, rubbing the back of his own head with one hand, keeping his other on Peter's back.

"Does...does he often have a sour stomach after getting transported onto a mystery train?" he asks, mouth twitching weakly. His attempt at good humor dies pretty fast in the face of Tony's expression. "Or just...in general. He said he didn't sleep well, but didn't complain of feeling sick until after trying to eat something."

Tony puts a hand to his face when Peter tries to give him a casual greeting in middle of his puke session. "Just.. don't talk, kid."

Instead, he'll focus on responding to Manabu. The young man gets a humored smirk at his first question. He was starting to like this guy. "No, this is unrelated. What was in the food he ate? What spices did you use? He's allergic to a lot of things. Unfortunately, if he's allergic then Gwen- another teenager on board is also likely to be allergic to it. They're.. both kind of fragile."

"He...he mentioned that. The allergies..."

Goodness. From being barely a thing in his mind to being the complete decider of whether or not this day was going to go well. Allergies!

"I, I don't remember it all, but I was following a recipe card from the kitchen. We can look it over again to be sure?"

Peter makes a noise of acknowledgement and focuses his attention right back where he doesn't want it. He gives it a moment before pulling away from the toilet and wiping his mouth off with the towel he'd been given.

"I looked at the list, Mr Stark. I didn't see anything I'm allergic to."

He gives a heavy sigh, looking less well than he had the last time they'd talked.

"I'll go find the card. Peter, just.. wait here. I'll get you some water too." Since when did he sign up to play everyone's mom on this freaking train? He turns and starts to head back to the kitchen before pausing. "Do you know which dish he picked?"

"I-it's on the table upstairs," Manabu calls. "Next to the plate!"

Manabu hesitates, half a mind to tell them to switch roles, but...Tony's already on his way. He rubs his face, dragging his hand across his ear to the back of his neck.

Well...well, if this was going to be the worst of problems aboard? Maybe that's a good thing.

"Feeling any better?" he asks Peter, tilting his head to peer over at him. "Most of that must've been yesterday's, so there can't be much more left to hack up."

Peter just continues to lean up against the wall near the toilet and tries not to think about getting sick again. Yeah, there's no way he's got much left to come back up but there's still bile and he's probably gonna be coughing that up for awhile. Or maybe not-maybe his super metabolism will help him out.

"Y-yeah.. I think I'm okay for now." He nods, sounding weak.

Tony goes and finds the recipe card. At first glance, he can't see anything wrong with it. However, at a second read, he notices what spice is listed and sighs. This allergy stuff was getting out of hand. If only he had some material to use, he could come up with a cure.

Heading back, he almost forgets to get Peter some water. He also snags a dish cloth too and wets it down with cool water. He didn't like this when he was sick, but Pepper and Morgan seemed to.

"Kinda shoots the whole day down, doesn't it?" Manabu offers him a sympathetic smile, lifting his hand away from the kid's back and tucking it in one of his pockets. "I remember getting sick a lot early on in basic training, what with all the sprints and push-ups before and after meals. Especially early in the mornings! Your whole system gets so confused and worked up, and--"

He cuts himself off short, catching glimpse of Tony's return in his peripheral. The hand he'd pocketed lifts up in greeting.

Peter lets out a breath and shakily reaches over to flush the toilet, still not ready to try and get up again. He just nods his head in agreement, eyes closed and head resting against the wall now as he listens to the story. Military camp? He wonders-for some reason, wondering if Captain America ever had the same problem. Probably anymore.

"Yeah... the last time I uh... threw up." He glances at the toilet. "Was after a particularly nasty spider-bite." He admits, taking a short breath in through his nose. He hears Tony approaching and opens his eyes up again.

"Mr Stark, I thought I couldn't get the flu." He states, sounding whiny and pathetic.

His feet were getting cold. He was going to have to talk to this conductor sometime about the importance of slippers. Anyway..

He hands the menu card back to Manabu. "No, you can't, Pete," he confirms. He looks over the boy, wondering what they were going to do with him. He seemed like a waking disaster lately. Was he going to need to carry him back to his bed?

"You have to get a lot more careful about spices though so you won't keep having issues like this. You can't eat rosemary." His gaze shifts from Peter to the older boy (or man, he seems like a boy to a fifty year old). "So nothing you did wrong, if you were worried."

It seemed strange to Manabu that Tony would deduce the problem where Peter did not -- were they actually related, perhaps? There wasn't much visual resemblance, but...families were sometimes like that.

He makes a faint, affirmative noise, taking the card and stuffing it into his back pocket.

"Guess we ought to make a list, so anyone else cooking knows," he murmurs, glancing back down at Peter. He offers an arm up.

"How 'bout sleeping it off?" he suggests. "It's...kind of a reset."

Peter is caught between feeling like we wants to just throw a tantrum over the whole incident and throwing his hands up because yeah-that sounds about right when it comes to his luck. Rosemary. Really? He's getting his ass kicked by flowers again.

"Why do so many things kill spiders? Just let my bretheren live." He whines, sort of forgetting his powers are supposed to be on the down-low but also just upset enough with how he's feeling to not really care at the moment.

"Yeah sure, if I can fall asleep." He responds, reaching up and using Manabu's arm to help drag him to his feet. Big mistake, he's suddenly feeling dizzy and nauseous all over again.

"Uh... I think I should stay here for a bit."

Tony nods in agreement with Manabu. He tries to hide the wince when Peter calls spiders his 'brethren'. Idiot. He watches as Peter tries and fails to get up. This wasn't good.

"Alright, look, you can't just stay here all day so you're going to be moved. Manabu, will you grab another one of those garbage bags. I thought I saw a few more under the counter. Okay, kid, listen up. You blow chunks on me and miss the bag, I'm going to skin you alive. Understood? Now put your arms around my shoulders." Despite having just threatened bodily harm to the boy, Tony leans down and puts his hands underneath the young man. With a grunt, he hoists Peter up into his arms bridal style. He could feel the strain in his body sharper than he was used to, but this was Peter.

"Thank you, Manabu," Tony says, looking at the young man. "Thanks for watching out for him."

"O-of course..."

Spider-brethren?

Manabu is shaken out of his confused stare by instructions -- and thank goodness for that -- and does as told. No sooner than bags retrieved does he turn and see Tony hoisting the kid up with such apparent struggle; Manabu grimaces. This guy was wheeling around in a chair not two days ago, and now this?

"Uh--we-wait, are you sure you got this?"

Peter groans as Tony tries to move him, really not up for this but wraps his arms around his Mentor's shoulders anyway.

"Yeah, yeah... you got it Mr Stark-I promise-oh god." He swallows. "Never mind. I make no promises-holy shit. Can I just go to bed?" At Manbu's question he just shrugs.

"Yeah, he's fine-he's Iron Man-he's got this."

Its's sweet that the kid was quick to tell someone Tony was Iron Man. They both know it was a lovely stroke to the ego. He doubts Peter knows how much he could use it right now. Still, he couldn't be caught needing the praise too much.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Pete, but don't open that mouth again." He really didn't want Peter to have to use the barf bag on the way back to the room. He looks back at Manabu. "You can get the doors though."

"Room A is his."

One of the rare perks of being small was being able to squeeze past the lot of them to hustle ahead and get connector doors opened for them on their way to the first cabin car. Manabu pushes room A's door open before backing away to give Tony room to finagle the kid in without any head- or foot-bonking.

"Mmhm..." Peter nods, mouth shut tight. It was probably a testament to just how bad he really does feel if he's not insisting he's fine and can walk on his own. Instead he's allowed himself to be scooped up and carried to his room like a damn baby. Later, he' roll around in embarrassment over the whole morning but for now, he's just gonna focus on not throwing up all over Mr Stark. He really doesn't want to get skinned alive, thanks.