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

[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.

[askedtobe]

And i've done it. I've played the games, fucked people, been- i'm not open and apparently i'm all mixed signals and nobody knows. Nobody needs to know, if all we're doing is fucking because who cares? It's just sex, just jacking off, it's not- [ he waves a hand, dismissing it. ] -it's nothing.

It's just nothing.

[phonetically]

Sometimes, it is. I think it was for me. But, it won't always be.

[askedtobe]

S'all it should be. [ Considering his track record with women...... and men. God, this is terrible. How does he kill everyone. Staring at the scotch has become reaching for it, grabbing it with fingertips alone, all but growling as he attempts to get a good enough grip to pull it over. ]

[phonetically]

Maybe. It would make everything easier. [ Maybe that is what Atia intends. Loose morals and barely there friends sharing sex partners. ] But, is that the kind of guy you are? Cause I don't think I'm not. [ Jesus Christ, he hands him the damn bottle. You puke on this couch, you clean it, Peter. ]

[askedtobe]

[ Okay, wait- Peter just stares at Stiles, scotch forgotten. He would prefer to not be school by a teenager but he can't think straight. But then his brain rattles free (SORT OF) and he takes the bottle and sets it on the table. Yup. ] And then you'll get married and have kids. Yeah. I heard the story.

[phonetically]

I don't know - I'm assuming I won't always be here. But, who knows. Maybe. But, marriage doesn't have to be a part of it.

[askedtobe]

That's not- [ Peter doesn't even entirely know what he means himself but god, he keeps thinking about that chick who's married here. Not because he wants her but because... married. Blergh. His brain is turning into blergh. ] I know. But i've got nephews. And a niece.

[ He has to save them, too. ]

[phonetically]

... And you - want nephews of your own? Or, I mean... to make - your own nieces? For - [ He sighs, getting lost again. ] I think that, if it keeps not meaning anything it will get - it'll really suck. It'll get worse.

[askedtobe]

Yeah. It will. [ And as far as Peter knows, as far into the future he's seen, the whole... married and kids thing isn't going to be his life. Maybe that's how it should be. Who the hell knows. ] Here and- y'know. Everywhere.

[phonetically]

[ He hikes up a foot, placing it on the coffee table, resting his arm on his knee. ]

So, then we - make the best of it.

[askedtobe]

[ Peter laughs. Just... not comically. ]

Funny.