AN: This entire story is not really story, but a series of short fic… each character has nothing to do with the one before or after is, so read each chapter on it's own… The chapter titles are the prompts each story came from… again, I don't own these characters, I just like playing with them
From his spot on the front steps, Peter could easily see both up and down the road, waiting for a familiar car to pull up. He had both hands braced against the cement, his fingers tapping eagerly, his sneakers bouncing off the steps in front of him repeatedly. His new green shirt was beginning to dampen from sitting on the steps for so long, the sun beating down on his back on the mid June day. His eyes were becoming sore from squinting for so long, but nothing seemed to be able to dampen the nine year olds bright spirit.
It was summer break, and he was finally going to get to spend some much needed time with his dad. His overnight bag was stuffed to the brim with old school projects he wanted to show his dad, along with clothes for a weekend, and his favorite teddy bear. He hadn't seen his dad since the previous fall, when he brought him to do some school shopping, and he only talked to him on holidays and his birthday. It only barely registered with the child that it was always him to call his dad. But still, they had so much to catch up on, and Peter was already planning out their weekend.
Somewhere between going for pizza and renting movies, Peter was pulled from his thoughts by his mom's voice floating through the kitchen window. "Charlie, you can't do this to him again! I cover for you every time! Christmas, his birthday. He wants to spend some time with his father!"
Peter's smile fell from his face as he craned his neck toward the window, wanting to catch everything his mother said.
"But he's been looking forward to this weekend! … no, he's sitting on the porch waiting for you… I don't care! He's your son ! You find a way to bond with him!"
Peter's heart followed suit with his smile, falling through his chest to rest heavily in the pit of his stomach. He brushed his now damp hair away from his eyes, hoisting his bag up onto his shoulders and turning back toward the house.
His innocent ears chose not to hear what his mother was now saying to his father, but if he knew what the words meant, he would probably think he deserved them. Peter put all this things away, his clothes in the dresser, his projects taped up onto the wall around his door, and his teddy bear set ever so carefully on his bed.
He sat down on his bed, kicking his feet up under him and leaning back on the bed spread. Okay, maybe it wasn't that he didn't realize that he was always the only making the effort with his dad. He didn't want to face it. He didn't see what was so wrong with him. His mom said he was fun to be around! He waited on his bed for his mom to come up with a new cover up lie for his dad, hugging his teddy bear to his chest.