contact

[phonetically]

"You've got Stiles -- or you would if I were here right now, which, I'm not. I think phone etiquette is the same here, so you should know the drill. If you want something, yada yada, but here's an extra option. Call Scott if it's an emergency. And if it's really an emergency, call until he picks up. Otherwise, I'll get back to you when I can. Peace, Atia."

Comments

text

[phonetically]

you wanted to talk to me?

text

[askedtobe]

i txted you didnt i??

text

[phonetically]

yeah you did. still here

text

[askedtobe]

illl be tehre in a sec

[phonetically]

[ he's just sitting on the couch, having a conversation with some girl who doesn't care about anything thanks to atia. it's a typical friday night here, probably ]

[askedtobe]

[ .... which is exactly when Peter finds Stiles' place and tries his hardest not to bang on the door whilst not understanding the logistics of sounds and physics. Still holding tightly onto a rather large bottle of scotch, Peter rocks on his heels, staring sideways off towards nothing, practically forgetting that he's waiting at all. ]

[phonetically]

[ He's finished up with Elena, getting up from the couch and opening the door. He clocks the bottle of scotch and the vacant expression. ] You made it.

[askedtobe]

[ Peter squints back at Stiles and offers a nod. ] Here. [ He pushes the bottle at Stiles, as if he's grown tired of holding it, flexing his fingers after keeping a tight grip. ] Have a present. It's what I drank the first time Nathan got me wasted.

My dad's favorite.

[ Someone has needed to talk. ]

[phonetically]

[ Stiles just takes it, stepping aside. ] Come on, come inside.

[askedtobe]

[ Peter could probably give less of a fuck as to where he actually is, willingly stepping inside and glancing around but taking nothing in. ]

[phonetically]

[ Stiles closes the door, luckily getting enough room between Peter and the door so he can. He regards the bottle for a second before taking it into the kitchen and sticking it above the fridge - where other alcohol is. Whiskey and the like, before emerging again. ]

[askedtobe]

[ Peter is... still staring off at absolutely nothing in particular, his mind a lump of nothing but all the things he wants to say about his brother. He wants to say it, wants someone to hear it, wants to throw his fists into walls until destruction's all that's left. ]

He raised me. Did all the things dad should've done. But he was always such an asshole. And I was supposed to keep him safe. Couldn't save the world, couldn't save him, couldn't do any of it.

[phonetically]

[ Stiles comes to Peter, a hand on his back to get him to walk. toward. the couch. ] Your brother. [ Just for confirmation. ] Everyone can't be saved. [ He should know. So should Scott. Except, Allison's death is partly on him - at least his body. ] And you're - here, so you don't ave to worry about the world.

[askedtobe]

[ He doesn't particularly feel like sitting down, but he lets himself be pushed in the direction. Though he snorts rather loudly. ] It's the one fucking thing i'm actually supposed to worry about. And I almost killed everyone. Ninety-three percent. I wouldve killed ninety-three percent of the population. Anything for Adam. But! Nathan saved my ass. Again. Just like always.

And now he's dead.

[phonetically]

[ He sighs as Peter fights it, the two of them at least physically making it in the proximity of the couch. ] So, the world was saved. Whether or not, Nathan did it, the world? Saved. [ Doesn't that matter? ] Peter, come on. Sit down.

[askedtobe]

[ But he'd much rather have someone listen. He wants to be heard for once, just one time, that's it. He wants to shake it into somebody that he fucked up. That Nathan died and he wasn't supposed to. All the bullshit he spouted before he dropped - Peter wasn't the only good thing left in the world. That was a lie. A lie just like every other one.

.... Fine. Fine. Sitting down. ]

[phonetically]

[ He's ... managed that. Okay. ] Look, I get all the guilt [ And he's off, ducking back into the kitchen - but within earshot - to get him a giant glass of water. ] You couldn't save him, but did you know he was going to be murdered? [ A dubious question coming from him, considering the nogitsune set everything up, knowing full well Allison would and could be. But, the group didn't know. Only Lydia and she'd been held captive. ]

[askedtobe]

[ Peter almost laughs. It's not funny. But it's fucking horrible and he doesn't know what to do. ] No. Sylar kills everyone, he- I should've guessed. [ Hah. Hah. ] But my mom knew. She knew and she stuffed him inside Sylar and I didn't know. Nathan was Sylar and I didn't know.

[ Explaining that would sound psychotic without booze. ] I just want my brother back.

[phonetically]

She stuffed him inside Sylar? [ This glass of water? It's for you. Drink it. That is, Stiles is now sitting in front of you, perched on the coffee table. ] I know.

[askedtobe]

Right. Nathan was Sylar. And Sylar killed Nathan. And he knows everything. [ Oh hey, a glass of water. Peter's going to stare at it for a few seconds before finally caving and drinking about half. ]

But nobody knows. Nobody knows I have a brother because then they'd know he was dead. [ This is important. ] I need to go to his funeral. I would talk. I thought he was going to die when I was a kid, goes off to the fucking war. Not now.

[phonetically]

So, to cover up Sylar killing Nathan, your mom - had Sylar absorb him?

[ He wonders if this included his traits. He waits patiently for Peter to drink his water. ] People never die when you think they will. [ They die unexpectedly. ] My mom died. When I was eight. She had a - actually, I just learned all about it, this - this thing possessed me and made me and my dad and like, all the medical professionals think I was dying of it, too. [ But, that's neither here nor there. It counts as opening up? ] It matters, that you want to say something, that you would.

[askedtobe]

[ Right! Right. He points at Stiles at nods and nods. Right. Very right. ] Good 'nuff.

[ But okay listening is really fuckig hard and he finishes off his water while Stiles talks because that's kind of horrible. And not good. And why the hell did he hand over the scotch, excuse him while he glances over to wherever the hell Stiles put it. Bring it back. ] I'm sorry. I've never- I don't know anything about possession.

[ But he shakes his head, sliding the glass onto the table next to Stiles. ] Nobody else to say anything. And I can talk. About. About I don't know.

[phonetically]

It's okay, you don't - have to know anything. Cliff's notes, it sucks.

[ Stiles isn't making it clear where the scotch went. Not tonight. ] About your brother. About how he was an asshole, but, you also loved him.

[askedtobe]

He was an asshole. A really, really big asshole.

[ But. But. He really shouldn't have handed that over. Bring it back please] And the dad I didn't have.

[phonetically]

So, you'd talk about that, how he was there for you. How he cared, what he did. Saying all that, that's what matters. [ No. No, he will not bring it back. ] You loved him. [ OH EM GEE ] It's in the kitchen.