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Mayday is currently stuck on the ceiling fan. Her pudgy toddler feet have attached to the bottom of the blades, babyish giggles falling out of her mouth as she watches her bright curly hair swing in front of her face. Her babysitter is currently on the floor, some children's book about farm animals in his lap as he scrolls on his phone.
Mayday knows she's not allowed to be on the ceiling fan, her father has reprimanded both her and Hobie enough times for her to understand. Yet Hobie, her babysitter, has never yelled at her for it so she continues to dangle her hair happily.
"'Obie." Mayday calls, her fat fingers reaching down to Hobie. "I'm bat!"
She hangs down like the animal in her books, and hugs herself close for emphasis. Hobie looks up at her, smiling. His piercing glints in the room's light, making her want to pull on it in the way she knows he hates.
Hobie reaches his hand out towards Mayday, copying her. "You're a bat, hm? I thought you were a spider."
"No." Mayday wrinkles her nose. "Daddy spider, I'm bat."
"Good, never stay consistent, keep them on their toes."
Mayday, who has zero clue what that means, nods seriously. She doesn't know what consistency is, only that she's pretty sure it's important to Hobie, but she does know what toes are.
With a flourish and a happy giggle, she unsticks her right foot from the ceiling fan and happily shouts, "toes!". Her left one doesn't have enough stability to keep her from falling yet, and she only remembers this fact when the ground rapidly comes toward her. Mayday falls with a shriek, her tiny hands coming out in front of her to somehow ease the pain of her crash.
She nevers hits the ground, but for a moment Mayday thinks she is paralyzed. Nothing is moving, the tv screen is black, and her arms are still held out in front of her. Enough time passes for Mayday to decide that she will listen to her father, and never climb the ceiling fan again. Then the tv turns back on, and music from her favorite show plays, pushing her to look up at Hobie. His eyebrow quirks up, but he seems no worse for wear as she looks at him.
"You didn't think I would let you fall, did you?"
It's then she realizes that she's being held up by a web not much different than her father's. It grips around her back, arms, and thighs, creating a weird swing. She still hovers quite a way above the floor but she doesn't find herself very afraid anymore. The scream of her heartbeat has dulled to its inside voice and the shake in her body eases into something unnoticeable. She instead holds her arms out toward Hobie again, a giggle on her lips.
Maybe she'll hang on the ceiling fan one more time, her father doesn't have to know.
Hobie smiles back at Mayday, using his finger to push her so she swings a little higher and a little faster. Mayday is thrilled, a happy shriek booming around the house as she's pushed higher. She throws her arms out to her sides, a wide toothy grin on her face.
"Bird, I'm bird! 'Obie sees?"
Hobie, who's taken his phone back out, looks above his screen to watch as Mayday flails her arms. A choked laugh exits his mouth, but it sounds more like a loud snort. He switches apps on his phone to record Mayday as she swings around the living room.
"A bird now? Seems we've got a little prodigy on our hands."
"No prod… prodigy, I bird." Mayday huffs, flapping her arms harder.
"Of course, I didn't mean to put you in a box, Birdie."
"No box."
Hobie smiles approvingly, "Exactly, no box."
The front door opens, a clatter of keys hitting a table and shoes being taken off barely makes a sound in the small house, and yet both Mayday and Hobie's faces whip toward the door. Hobie and Mayday stare at each other, aware that attaching Mayday to the ceiling and swinging her around probably isn't something Peter would allow. They both decide to go down together, waiting for Peter to come into the room and see the sticky mess covering his daughter as she hangs by her clothes.
"Mayday, sweetheart, daddy's–" The shout is cut off by Peter walking into the room and seeing his daughter dangling from the ceiling. His mouth goes slack and his eyes seem to get infinitely more tired as he stares.
"Daddy!!" Mayday squeals, using her momentum to face her father.
Peter snaps out of his shock, quickly pulling Mayday out of the spider web and to his chest. He has a hand on his forehead covering his facial expression, a heavy sigh coming out of his mouth.
"This is going on the list with things we don't tell MJ about and we don't do again, along with the ceiling fan, and scaling the building."
Mayday sticks her tongue out at him, blowing a raspberry and covering both herself and Peter with drool.
"Yeah, stick it to the man, Birdie." Hobie smirks.
"No, we're not sticking anything to anyone."
"We already did, ain't that right?"
Mayday grins at Hobie and grabs her father's face, pulling it closer to her own. He closes his eyes, anticipating to be spit on and resigning to the possibility. Mayday giggles and takes a deep breath, making it feel like the air in Peter's body is getting sucked away.
"Stick! It! To! The! Man!!" She yells, headbutting Peter's nose.
He groans, just about dropping her as he cradles his new injury. "I cannot tell your mother this was your first full sentence. Say something else, anything else. Please." He begs, tears from his injury make him look like a pathetically wet cat, in Hobie's opinion.
Mayday unhelpfully responds by blowing another raspberry and giggling, making Hobie laugh as well.
"Does he have to be your favorite?" Peter grumbles. "Why couldn't you have preferred Miles or Pavitr. Both of them are such good kids. Why'd you choose the Communist?"
"Anarchist actually," Hobie corrects.
"I thought you didn't believe in labels."
"I don't."
There's a pause as Peter just stares at Hobie blankly. Mayday pulls on his cheeks and hair ruining the intimidating effect he was trying to give off, instead he just looks tired, so incredibly tired.
"Hobie?"
"Yes?" He asks, fighting a smirk.
"Get the fuck out of my house."