Mansion? Estate? Either way, Peter's jaw dropped.
"Is this your house?" His voice squeaked. "Dude, this is sick!"
Dash reclined with his hands behind his head. "Yeah, pretty sick," he bragged, pretending to inspect the nails on his right hand. The car slid into the garage seamlessly and the doors popped open. Everyone but Peter slid out.
"Uh… I'm still here."
Mr. Incredible had come around to get him, though, restraining gauntlets in hand. "What would you say if I said those aren't necessary-?" They were on his hands immediately. "Right. Mkay, I see how it is." He looked down in shock as similar steel boots wrapped around his feet, glowing a bright blue around his ankles when they secured. "Do I… hop inside?" The boots slid across the ground, carrying him at a hover by Mr. Incredible. "Woah! Okay! I'm actually too impressed to be mad." He tried leaning over to steer, but he ended up just flailing as he righted himself. "Did you make these?"
"No."
"Buy them?" He started to hover down into the basement now. His boots lit up his descent before the lights sensed movement and clicked on.
"Yes." Mr. Incredible continued to walk down the stairs beside him until they reached the bottom.
"Who from?" The room was empty, save a few chrome chairs and tables, and was that a popcorn machine in the corner?
"Nobody." Mr. Incredible reached for his mask and Peter ducked.
"No thanks!"
"You're in a secure room. Nobody is going to see you."
"You could have cameras."
"True, but we don't." He reached for him again.
"I vote no!" He ducked the other way.
"You don't get to vote-"
"This is a free country!" Peter leaned back until his upper body formed a near-perfect U.
"Well you aren't eighteen!" Mr. Incredible grabbed his shoulder roughly and yanked off his mask. Peter ducked his head. "Look at me."
"No," he mumbled.
"Look at me."
Peter snapped his head up, trying to mask his fear with a glare, but he wore his heart on his sleeve. Sure, the mask hid his identity, but most importantly, it hid his fear. "Happy?" Elastigirl walked around from the back, taking her first look on his face.
"You weren't kidding." She stared at him, and Peter looked down again. "Hey, we aren't going to hurt you."
"I've still got glass in my foot, so I guess it's the thought that counts." The metal boot wasn't helping things. He'd been distracted in his panic, but it still hurt like hell.
"Glass in your foot!" He nodded. "Which one?"
"Left." She got down, disengaging the boot. Peter observed how to do it. As his good friend Mickey Mouse liked to say, this could be a surprise tool to help us later. Elastigirl looked at his bloody foot, holding it up to get a better look. "It's healing around the glass. We might have to cut it open again to get it out." She looked up at Mr. Incredible, who shrugged.
"I'm not a doctor." He held his hands up defensively and pulled up a chair. "Here, sit, kid." Peter sat back in the chair moodily, grimacing when she prodded his heel.
"Oww." He recoiled, bringing his knee towards his chest.
"Alright, while she fixes that, I'm going to have to ask you a few questions." Mr. Incredible crossed his arms and looked down at him.
"It was wind lady. I-"
Mr. Incredible held up his hand. "Wait for my question."
"I'm going to explain," Peter insisted. "She's made of wind, hot gas, so she's been strangling them-"
"It's a she?" Mr. Incredible raised an eyebrow.
"Well… she blew at me when I said 'Sir,' so…" It felt lamer once he said it out loud.
Mr. Incredible pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yahuh."
Peter tested the waters. "So…" When Mr. Incredible didn't jump to cut him off, he continued. "I called 911 last time because I figured, 'hey, it's hard to hit air, I should call medics,' but then she busted the phone, and this time she busted it before I even got in there, so I got the guy's cell, but she busted that, too-"
Mr. Incredible didn't move his hand from his face. "And we know you didn't bust the phones yourself how?"
"Because I just told you it wasn't me! And, and so I tried CPR last time, but this time I thought he was dead and she threw me around the room and so I figured hot gas, gotta cool it down and I held up ice after she nearly broke my hand with the fridge door and hot and cold attract so she couldn't run but then I ran out of ice and he left and the guy was on the floor but I got the defibrillator even though I've never even used a defibrillator and-!" He realized his voice had started to shake and both adults were staring at him with wide eyes. "Did I do something wrong?" He looked between the two of them. "I know I should've gotten the ice before, but, but I swear I had no idea-"
Elastigirl held up her hand. "Alright, alright, that's enough." Peter was shaking with nervous energy by now and breathing fast. She gave her husband a knowing glance, and he nodded his affirmation. She looked back at Peter. "We believe it wasn't you." Peter melted into the chair with relief.
"Thank you, miss-" She held her hand up to silence him.
"But you ran from us every other time. Why?"
"Because you were trying to catch me?"
Mr. Incredible didn't seem to find that very amusing.
"Explain."
"Well- well sorry not all of us start out real experienced, this has been my first week of superhero-ing and I've gotta say, you're giving the whole gig a pretty negative vibe." Peter would've crossed his arms had he been free to do so.
"Haven't your parents told you not to go around using your powers?"
"Uh." Peter shifted uncomfortably. "They're dead." He hated pulling the orphan card, but he had to admit, the reactions on their faces made the past forty-eight hours a little less horrible.
".. Oh," Mr. Incredible managed. "Sorry." He looked as if he was remembering something upsetting. Maybe his parents died, too, Peter hypothesized.
Peter shrugged. "It was a while ago. I'm okay. I've got my aunt."
"Well, first of all, kids your age don't start doing any solo-acts," Elastigirl began.
"I'm just trying to do what's right and- wait a second. Your son was in a supersuit, and he's like eight!"
"We're watching him," Elastigirl defended, "and we couldn't stop him from helping."
"You can't stop me any more than you can stop him." Peter took a moment's pause, then amended, "or a huge drill." He giggled at Mr. Incredible's offense.
"I'm letting you get away with that, this one time." Mr. Incredible waved a finger at him.
Peter smiled and shrugged, laxer now that he'd been cleared of all charges. "Sure."
Elastigirl walked away and came back with a drone that hovered at Peter's foot.
"Hey, what does that do?" It drew out a knife from its square body and cut Peter's foot. "Ah! Hey!" He pulled his foot back, but the drone followed.
"Hey, stay still, it's going to take the glass out." Peter bit his lip, avoiding eye contact with Elastigirl. His face scrunched as the bot reached in to get the glass and a whine formed against his will at the bottom of his throat. Once it was drawn out, he looked down at the shard of glass, pain forgotten. "Woah, that's way bigger than I expected!" The bot started to float away, but Peter called after it, "Give me that!"
Mr. Incredible shook his head. "Why do you need it?" The bot had already begun to hover its way back to Peter.
"It was in my foot. I want it," Peter said as if it were obvious. The bot positioned to put the glass back in his foot and Peter bent his leg in the air, out of the way. "No no not in my foot! Clean it and put it on a table." The drone beeped loyally and buzzed away. Peter lowered his foot from where he had it, almost straight up in the air. Blood dripped onto the floor. "Uh, I'm dripping." Elastigirl got some medical supplies, which was more like a case. He supposed this family was used to more than the usual papercut.
"What are all of your powers?" She had begun to wrap his ankle and heel in gauze.
"Uh, I stick to things, fast healing, my spidey sense- I mean, I can anticipate when something dangerous is about to happen," he explained to their confused expressions, "and, uh, all my other senses are dialed to 11."
"Does the webbing… come out of you?" Mr. Incredible looked uncomfortable at the thought, peering at his wrists.
"Ew, no, I made it." Mr. Incredible's eyebrows nearly disappeared when they shot up his forehead.
"Made it?"
"You know. Like, with chemicals. I invented it."
"What happened to public school after I graduated? First, they changed math, and now," he huffed, "they're inventing webbing."
"Nono, I mean, I double up on advanced sciences, but it's like a hobby of mine, so once I got my powers, I thought I'd complete the look." Elastigirl patted his foot when she had it wrapped up in two layers.
"There you go." She stood up.
"Thanks." He lowered his foot to the floor. "Can you stop restraining me now? I'm hungry."
"Wait wait wait. We're missing something here. So you made the webbing as a baby?"
"No! No way. No baby could do that."
"But you said right when you got your powers-"
"I was like fourteen." Both of them stared at him like he had grown a pink horn on his face.
"Fourteen?" Peter nodded, and Mr. Incredible held up a finger on one hand and four on the other. Peter glanced at his fingers and spoke slowly, wondering if they'd gotten hit on the head earlier.
"I mean, from my perspective, that's forty-one, but yeah."
"That's… impossible," Elastigirl spoke softly, looking at Mr. Incredible.
"Yeah, I know, but I'd already won like three science fairs by then, so the webbing wasn't so hard to make. It's not impossible to be a nerd, just difficult. Can you please let me out of the restraints now?" They snapped off after he spoke. Smiling, he hopped out of the chair onto his good foot. "Thanks." He hopped over to his backpack, waving one of his arms to keep balanced.
"Hey, kid, what're you doing?"
"Getting out my normal clothes-?" He lifted them for them to see. "Where's a bathroom?" Mr. Incredible jerked this thumb to his left and Peter hopped along. "Thanks!" He could nearly feel the tension that thrummed in the silence that washed over the room between the two Supers. Whatever it was that was bothering them, all Peter could hope for as he shrugged on his NASA t-shirt was that it wouldn't destroy his chances of getting home by dinnertime. As he hopped out, he remembered the cool metal of his black web shooters were still pressing on his wrists. He carefully popped them off and dropped them into his bag before stuffing his suit inside after them.
"Oh, hey, Mr. and Mrs. Incredible?" He slung his backpack over his shoulder and hopped to the center of the room in front of the two of them. "Do I need to be registered or something so the police can stop trying to stop me from stopping crime?" He took a moment to reflect, frowning slightly. "That was a lot of stop's. Anyways," he brightened hopefully.
"If you're sure you haven't registered already," Elastigirl started, as if she hoped he would but in and correct her, "then we have a friend we can contact. Expect a call from Rick Dicker."
"Rick Dicker," he nodded. "Okay. I can give you my name and cell number and stuff to relay to him." He had already adjusted his backpack, ruffling through it with one hand. He pulled out a paper ball and flattened it on the table, clicking the pen on his chin. Once he had his information scrawled out, he passed it to Mr. Incredible, who seemed to look past him. "That good?"
Mr. Incredible didn't look at it before he slid it in his pocket. "Yeah, that's just fine."
"Alright. Nice to meet you." He started to hop towards the stairs.
Elastigirl caught up to him. "What're you doing?"
"Walking home."
"You can't walk home." She pointed down at his foot. He looked down, mulling over his options.
"I'll… hop home?" But she had already walked past and up the stairs, pulling car keys out of her pocket. "I'll drive you."
"Oh- thanks! You don't have to." He mumbled the last part out of obligation but hoped she would ignore it.
"No problem." She called over to the kids, "Hey, I'll be right back, I have to drive Peter home. Dash, stop jumping on the couch-" Dash turned his head innocently, one foot raised in the air like a greek statue. "Yes, I saw you do it." Dash slunk back down onto the couch, scowling, and grabbed the remote, proceeding to press nearly every button on it. The baby, red hair spike and all, ran across the wood.
"Mama!" He reached up two chubby arms, then looked at Peter with suspicion, waving one hand up and down as he measured him up. "A da ba da." Peter waved back.
"Hey, little guy. Bye bye." The baby's eyes widened in betrayal at his mother.
"No ba ba!" He grabbed on her pant leg and pulled, clearly daring her to go without him and face his teeny-tiny wrath. She sighed and picked him up.
"And I'm taking Jack Jack." She walked out with him. Peter made a funny face at Jack Jack, who was looking over his mother's shoulder, and Jack Jack gurgled in surprise.
"Yeah, I'm pretty funny," he said.
"Hm?" Elastigirl asked, setting Jack Jack in his seat.
"Oh- no- I was, uh, talking to the baby." He got in the backseat on the opposite side as the baby, who continued to peer at him as the car started.
"Hey, is this yours?" Peter picked up a giraffe squeaky toy from the middle seat and waved it at Jack Jack, who lit up like he'd lost it for years.
"A ga!" He snatched it from Peter with surprising force.
"Yeah, gir-raffe," Peter said slowly.
"A ga!" Jack Jack hit the giraffe's head on his seat.
"Yeah, that's exactly what I said," Peter approved. Jack Jack bit onto the toy, smug.
"A da ba ga," he explained with a scholarly air.
Peter nodded seriously. "Yeah, say it like it is."
"Ada GAAA ba da!" Jack Jack threw both of his arms out expressively.
"Really?" he said, raising his eyebrows, "Then what happened?"
"A ba ga." Jack Jack gave a little shrug- or maybe Peter was mistaken, but it sure looked like one- and bit down on the giraffe head.
"You must be so brave." He snapped out of the pseudo-conversation when he heard Elastigirl snort.
"Aga!" Jack Jack declared joyously.
"Did you make a friend?" She turned her head for a moment to look back at Jack Jack.
Jack Jack reached his hand out to Peter on cue, who shook it.
"We're primarily acquaintances at the moment until he gives me my full review," Peter confirmed. Jack Jack patted their shaking hands with the giraffe's slobbery head. "Actually, he just gave me his slobber, so we might make it official."
"Sounds about right." Elastigirl was smiling.
"Do you have a normal name? I keep saying Elastigirl in my head," Peter admitted, "and it feels a little weird."
"Mrs. Parr is good." Peter nodded, repeating it softly to get a taste for the words, then turned back to Jack Jack.
"How's that giraffe tasting?" Jack Jack took a particularly aggressive bite. "Mm, looks good." Jack Jack looked down at the giraffe, then waved it at Peter, grinning with his gums.
"Na ga?" Some slobber rolled down the giraffe's snout and dripped on the seat between them.
"Oh, no, I'm good, you keep working on it."
"Na ga!" Jack Jack insisted, moving it closer to Peter's face. His face darkened, threatening to turn the car ride sour with a few well-placed screams.
"Nom," Peter took a wide bite of the air next to the giraffe head, chewed intently, then swallowed comically so that his Adam's apple bobbed. "Mmm." Jack Jack squealed, kicking his legs, demanding to know if his mother saw. Peter laughed effortlessly; babies are always so much easier to deal with than adults.
"You're good with him," Elastigirl- Mrs. Parr- said as she took a right turn onto a bridge that led into the cityscape.
"Thanks. I babysit the kids across the hall sometimes, so-" He turned his attention to Jack Jack, who had offered the giraffe again. "Nom." The continued as if he hadn't paused, "I get lots of practice." The kind of experience he didn't get from siblings, that is. It can be nice, just him and May, and it's one less person to keep a secret from, but sometimes he wished he had a little brother or sister to keep things exciting. Mrs. Parr's eyebrows raised hopefully at "babysitting."
"Well, Jack Jack is a super, so we can't leave him with anybody." Peter nodded, forgetting he was a super himself for a moment.
"That's tough."
"They probably couldn't deal once he started floating," she suggested again, but Peter was looking out over the water as they crossed on the bridge.
"Most people can't," he agreed.
"Could you?"
"Yeah, probably," he said, but then his thoughts caught up to his mouth and he looked away from the window. "Wait, are you offering me a job?"
"I'm thinking about it," she said noncommittally. Peter's back straightened in the seat.
"You're offering me a job." And you'd pay way more than the family across the hall, his empty pockets screamed.
"If we ever needed you," she qualified, "then-"
"I'll do it. Anytime. Except for school hours. But that's obvious. If you-"
"Alright, breathe." But Mrs. Parr was smiling now as she rolled up to his building. "Here you are."
"Thanks for the ride." He slid out of his seat and gave a little wave. "Bye, Jack Jack."
Jack Jack waved back with a smile. "A ba ba!"
"You have my number if you need it!" He shut the door to the minivan and turned, smiling, to the building. Peter slid across the lobby floor to disappear behind the metal doors of the elevator that perpetually smelled like baking soda, despite having tile floors. For the first time in what felt like days, he allowed himself to breathe.