Only one day, and he was already missing his old bed.

As much as he was normally fine passing out on any surface, in any situation, the lumpy couch kept him tossing and turning throughout the night.

When dawn finally broke, 'pissy' had already become an understatement.

Peter flopped off the couch when it finally became too bright to keep pretending to sleep, staring blankly at the ceiling.

He stretched a hand out above him, wiggling the tiny, pudgy fingers that were way too close to be at the end of a fully extended arm.

First order of business is to get home. Parallel goal is to find out about this universe, so he doesn't stick out. Although... Becoming an adult again would help his situation immensely. So, keep an eye out for age-change technology.

He reviewed the facts in his head, and concluded he should probably check back at the apartment to see if there wasn't some sort of homing device, or weird sigils that could reveal the source of this event.

Again, he thanked his spider-sense and whatever other equilibrium-steadying mechanism his powers gifted him, letting him adjust to this new body without a problem. He had a feeling getting used to shorter strides would have been a pain in the butt.

Pulling the coat tight around him and wrinkling his nose at the cold nipping at his bare toes, he headed back toward the place he woke up yesterday. If he wasn't mistaken, it was even colder now.

Even from a distance,he could see the pale frost blanketing plant life as he passed Central Park.

A cacophony of sounds greeted him as he approached the area, an interested crowd gathered around the front of his apartment building. (Not his anymore)

Sneaking around legs was a bit easier when one was short, he discovered.

Someone's hand touched his shoulder, and he ducked away.

"Hey, kid."

His coat lifted around him and he lunged forward, trying to rip away from whoever was getting grabby. It failed, and a broad hand wrapped around his arm.

His first instinct was to brace for a throw, used to huge hands made of armor or sand, the only ones who dwarfed him by that much.

"Kid, hold up."

He turned toward the voice, much softer now.

Normal human, crouched beside him, looking concerned. Something that looked like a cell phone was flashing in her hand, a little green light fluttering happily.

"Where are your parents?"

"None of your business?"

Shit, his voice was squeaky! Did that really come out of his mouth?

He lifted his arm.

"Could you let me go?"

That voice would take some getting used to.

The device in her other hand kept flashing, and she glanced at it instead of releasing him.

"Where's your guardian?"

Now that was a new question. It threw him for a moment, wondering why he would even need a bodyguard.

Apparently bewildered silence was not a good answer.

And now he felt like an idiot for forgetting that looking like a child means people will probably treat you like a child.

"Look, I can't let you go running around without someone to look after you. Do you have someone I can call to pick you up?"

"I don't remember their number."

The lady looked around, thinking about something.

"Well, we can go to the station, and have someone run your name, I suppose.

The police station?

Hahahahahahah no.

"Okay."

Peter played along for a moment, letting them start shifting their grip to his hand before leaping backwards, twisting away from hitting someone else in the legs, and bolting back the way he came.

"Hey! Stop!"

Yeah, like that was going to happen.

She muttered something as he fled, but didn't sound like she was taking up the chase.

Damn it was cold out. His toes were already half numb, and weren't holding on to his flip flops very well.

His spider-sense flared, and he leapt to the side, a dart pinging off dark asphalt.

The heck?

He looked around for a moment, seeing only dark bricks and a misty grey sky. Someone shifted, and keen eyes spotted a shooter on the roof, dressed in dark gray.

Had his cover already been blown? Why else would someone be targeting a random kid with a tranq gun? (Unless this was a strange world where curfews and military lockdown had been put in place... but that didn't really make sense, with the kind of relaxed meandering that other people had been doing around him. )

Another dart, easily dodged.

The buzz in his head grew louder, directionless in where the danger was coming from.

A tinge of faint chemical smell glided to the back of his throat. Peter's eyes widened in realization, and he sprinted forward, trying to escape the colorless cloud of gas that had been released.

Man, he thought they had been the needle-delivery type.

Already he could feel his limbs being weighed down, heart racing from adrenaline.

Seriously, he couldn't even walk down the street without being attacked. Parker luck, right?

He dodged into an alley, staggering to his knees and shuffling behind some boxes. He should probably feel more scared, but there was something surreal about this entire world.

The cardboard around him started getting fuzzy around the edges, just as footsteps were closing in.

A box was pulled away, and a man in a dark uniform looked down at him. A green light was fluttering in his hand... oh - some kind of sensor, they had been tracking him somehow.

A familiar badge was emblazoned on his chest.

SHIELD.

Oh, thank goodness.

They might be a giant bag of dicks sometimes, but they weren't crazy. Nick Fury, at least, wasn't the type to torture and kill prisoners.

Darkness closed around him, anxiousness fading with it.