[ Peter catches a few hours of sleep here and there during their flight, no thanks to his unhealthy sense of paranoia, which prods him awake to evaluate his surroundings when things get too quiet. The rest of the time he spends staring out the window, watching the Earth coasting away beneath them.
(He had imagined his long-awaited homecoming, of course – especially when he was younger, and thought he still had something to return to – but less so in recent years. Peter may be mostly human, but his home isn't Earth anymore. It hasn't been for a long, long time.
Maybe some time in the future he would've found his way back on his own terms, but that choice is gone, now. But at least he arrived in a really fiery way.)
Half the day and a decent handful of hours later finds Peter staring out of the window again, chin propped up by his hand. He seems lost in thought, but he's aware enough to hear idle chatter about landing soon. About damn time, as far as he's concerned. ]
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(He had imagined his long-awaited homecoming, of course – especially when he was younger, and thought he still had something to return to – but less so in recent years. Peter may be mostly human, but his home isn't Earth anymore. It hasn't been for a long, long time.
Maybe some time in the future he would've found his way back on his own terms, but that choice is gone, now. But at least he arrived in a really fiery way.)
Half the day and a decent handful of hours later finds Peter staring out of the window again, chin propped up by his hand. He seems lost in thought, but he's aware enough to hear idle chatter about landing soon. About damn time, as far as he's concerned. ]