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

[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.

[askedtobe]

Yeah. [ Uh oh. ] How he saved my ass and taught me how to fish and play baseball and always came back. Always. [ If he cries he will hate himself forever. Which is why he's getting up now - you told him, he's going for it. Because of the goddamn treehouse. ]

[phonetically]

[ Stiles keeps an eye on him, not moving. Wondering if he'll be able to find it. (Ontop of the fridge for those with short memory spans.) ] All of that's - it's [ What? Good eulogy material? He waits for Peter to get back. ]

[askedtobe]

It's... what? [ Yeah okay finding it might be the interesting part. He probably won't get much further than like... the plates. ] Could talk about the tazing.

[phonetically]

... The tazing? [ With a sigh, he gets up. If it's Peter's funeral next... He moves into the kitchen reaching above the fridge and pulling it down. When Peter turns around, if he does, it's in Stiles' hands. Whatever, it's his scotch. ]

[askedtobe]

[ And the scotch is now his, pulled absently out of Stiles hands. The hangover tomorrow will destroy small countries. ] Tazing. I was a terrorist. Because he told them. His fault.

[phonetically]

Nathan or Sylar? [ He's now lost. ]

[askedtobe]

Nathan's. Worked for uh- [ Squints. THINK PETER, PETER. Unscrewing the lid of the scotch will totally help the thinking process. ] Homeland.. Security. There was tazing 'cause I didn't agree with him.

[phonetically]

Homeland security.

[ WHAT?

It's getting harder to pinpoint their lies, their truths from that first day at the hospital. Especially in the midst of the infodump. ]

[askedtobe]

Right. [ Slowly nodding as he just, y'know, straight up drinks from the bottle. ] His, uhm- Danko. His co-worker. Shot me off a roof. 'N that was before he left me in Haiti.

[phonetically]

So - you were a terrorist.

[ And he's invited you into his friend's apartment. ]

[askedtobe]

[ Peter manages a sharp laugh before realizing he's actually done it. What is laughing. But he shakes his head. ]

No, he said I was. I didn't even do- I escaped a plane? Went on the run. Uh- [ What else. There's probably other things but thinking.... would involve more scotch, yup. Give him a second. ] I sent footage. To the media. They... stuffed us on the planes. Drugged and... hooded. Whole thing was recorded, I thought the news would be, y'know, interested.

They didn't like me. I didn't want to be put in a camp.

[phonetically]

A camp for what?

[askedtobe]

[ SIGH. ] People with abilities. Specials.

[phonetically]

Like you.

[askedtobe]

Yup. And him. [ Mother. Fucking. Asshole. ]

[phonetically]

Nathan? [ That's complication. Nathan, a special - rounding all other specials into camps. That's like if Hitler were secretly Jewish. ] You uh, you want to sit down again?

[askedtobe]

Two for two. [ Peter turns slightly and then shrugs. Why the hell not. Sitting down is probably a good idea, and he nudges the bottle of scotch onto the table directly in front of him. Like it's a small animal he's trying to keep track of. ]

[phonetically]

[ Peter manages to make it back, this time Stiles taking a seat beside him. The scotch is pulled farther away, for Peter's sake. He waits for whatever needs to be said next. ]

[askedtobe]

[ How is that fair. Peter just blinks, though, brain slowing, the bottle something to stare at. ] I never forgave him. Not really. Not really really. Not for dad. Not for- telling everyone. Not for saying he'd let me die. And now he's dead. And I still can't let it go.

And i'm supposed to have sex? The fuck is that?

[phonetically]

[ He brings a hand up, only able to offer a ] Survival.

[askedtobe]

[ Peter aaaaaalmost laughs. ] Right. Except I don't have to do shit.

[phonetically]

Except, you do. I did it. It was painful and awkward and it felt, like, like, ten different kinds of betrayal but, I had to. You have sex, you stay alive. You don't, you die, and you die, you lose something.