Petrelli Vs Carlisle...the Musical

[chimeramimicry]

"Petrelli VS Carlisle -- The Musical"
Who:  Peter Petrelli & Peter Carlisle (Blackpool)
When: Six months before Season 1


"He's making a mess."

Peter glanced up at the head nurse and arched an eyebrow.  "Oh yeah?"

"Yes.  And he keeps singing.  Take him down to X-Ray."

Peter didn't exactly care for the tone of voice his superior was using, but with two months left of his internship, he couldn't stand being a smart ass.  Shaking the hair out of his face, he took the chart under his arm and headed down to the waiting room.  "Mister Peter Carlisle?" he asked, smiling as he always did.  Patients in pain preferred to have a happy face to greet them.

Comments

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

Around Peters feet were empty lolly wrapped and sticks along with a empty can of coke he'd gotten from the vending machine and the odd sweet wrapper that sat by his chair. Twirling the lolly in his mouth, he pulled a face at the little girl next to him, ignoring the pain in his foot in an attempt to cheer up the girl whose had been crying in pain when he'd first arrived.

Now she was sucked on Peters spare 'emergency lolly' and giggling whenever Peter randomly burst into song, trying his best to recall Disney classics but stumbling over the lyrics.

Being interrupted while he was finishing his lolly was oddly welcomes, he hardly wanted to spend all day here. Tilting his head to the side, he beamed at the nurse and hobbled awkwardly to his feet.

"Bout time, mate. I've been here for 20 minutes," Peter mumbled around his lolly before taking the half eaten sweet from his mouth and dropping it to the floor, earning another laugh from the little girl. "So, where too then?"

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Wow. Peter's mind blanked for a moment. So his boss wasn't just being a hardass. This guy really was making a mess. "Well first, Mr. Carlisle," he said, hurrying passed him to get the wheelchair he'd been sitting in. "You can have a seat. I'll take you myself."

Peter might not have been very big, a waifish sort of fellow that stood over half a foot shorter than his current patient, but he certainly was muscled. You really had to be to be a successful male nurse.

There was a lot of lifting around the hospital!

"All right, off we go," he said, cheerful as ever. "So, Scottish huh?"

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

Hopping over to the wheelchair, he dropped down into the seat and tilted his head back, looking up at the other man with a playful smile, in an oddly good mood for someone whose foot had been run over at a rather fast speed on his first day in America. Most people would be much more annoyed over it.

"Aye, laddy. From the land of sheep shearers, haggis makers and kilt wearers. Oh! Also, the bagpipe."

Ok, so he was putting on the accent a bit extra but it was fun to do so. Peering around the hospital, he wondered how much thus place would cost him. Medical care cost in the states right? hopefully his bosses would get this one for him.

"You Americans are rather odd, aren't you? I mean, you have rude taxi drivers to run over peoples feet while they're trying to cross the road, then you'll charge those unlucky people because of said dozy idiot running over their foot. Not exactly fair."

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Peter laughed, leaning down slightly as he pushed the other Peter down the hall. He was careful with turns not to bang his injured foot. "New York's a tourist trap," he admitted, "though to get your foot run over and not the rest of you, you had to be in a really weird position."

They made another turn and Peter tugged on the chair's handles to swing it around for the elevator.

"What were you doing with your foot like that anyhow?" He was curious. And they had time. The elevator was slow.

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

"I was waiting for the traffic to die down when I got distracted by the advertisements on the building and I did a weird leap when I noticed the traffic was starting up and it caught my leg and went right over it."

Peter smiled and shrugged his shoulders. So perhaps trying to beat the traffic was his fault and he shouldn't of essentially pranced ahead but he'd panicked.

Humming loudly to himself, filling in for the missing elevator music, he watched the buttons slowly light up.

"So what's your name stranger?"

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

"Probably would," Carlisle answered as he accepted his coffee and inspected it before blowing on it and taking a sip. He usually had much more sugar and milk in his coffee but Peter took the time to get it and he could hardly scold the man with it.

Smiling, he took the donut and tore it in half, licking an excess off his hand before managing to shove half into his mouth. He made short work of the donut, it was practically done in seconds, swallowed down hungrily by the DI. This is what happened when he skipped lunch. Or... you know, his snack break. Or any minor period of time designated for food.

Licking the sugar off his fingers, he dusted them off and returned his attention to the nurse. "But where's the fun in that? I'm in a strange city, I only have my luggage, not the first time thats happened you know? Motels can be fun, I met my first wife in a motel... she hit me over the head with a bucket of ice."

And he really wasn't exaggerating. Only Peter Carlisle could get lucky with a concussion in a hospital supply room. "Its just more interesting to see how things go."

Monkie, get more eating icons. (comands it!)

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Oh, story time! Like a five year old -- and sometimes when Peter was excited, his brother would tell him he still looked like that kindergartener that just wanted to find out all of the heroic things he'd done at college -- Peter pulled up a chair and leaned back into it. He never realized how much his feet hurt until he actually got off of them. Running around a hospital all day as no picnic.

"You're a little crazy," he told Carlisle, grinning profusely, "but in a really good way." His smile was quite soft and his puppish brown eyes filled with interest. "So some girl assaulted you at a motel and you married her?"

He'd have preferred a shoot em up story, but this worked!

o.o Yes sir! *salutes you* Have some icecream! <3333

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

"Everyones a little crazy," he dismissing, idly stirring his coffee with his finger before quickly licking it off. Smiling, he wondered if he was really all that odd, it wasn't unusual for someone to call him that. He made stupid reasons for bothering people, he stalked those he liked, he did anything to get what he wanted and he was prone to bursting into song when he got bored.

Ok, so a little crazy but still not as mad as some.

"Well, pretty much. That and we both rather had a thing for The Smiths and she brought me ice-cream as a sorry. Besides, it was my fault, I followed her from her car to her room, she probably thought I was a rapist or something."

Rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, he had to admit it did sound bad. The whooole story. No wonder it went so badly.

*shares the om noms!*

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Peter's eyes widened, both because the man was stirring hot coffee with his finger and because of the story. "So why were you following her?" It seemed like a logical question.

Peter would have thought that anyone following him was going to mug him. He could take care of himself of course, but the thought of being creeped up on bothered him.

Peter was short and small and it usually meant he had a target on his back. Maybe that was just living in the shadow of the district attorney for New York.

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

Carlisle didn't mind contact, in fact he rather loved it. He was close enough to Peter that he could slump against the other mans side, enjoying the warmth he could get from others. Especially on such gloomy days. He had very little issue with contact provided he didn't get the immediate urge to punch said person in the face.

He had two modes - friendly and bastard. He found it hard to find a middle ground, he judged right off the bat. Luckily, he'd just Peter as a nice guy from the start.

"I'm really not, I know being a copper seems interesting but I've spend the past 10 years stuck behind a desk, doing paperwork. When I made DI, I spend the whole next day filling cause half our staff were out with the flu," Peter remarked with a small shrug, his life always built up into excitement then fizzled out rather depressingly. "Only my love life is interesting."

And sometimes he could rather do without that.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Peter put his arm up along the back of the seat and propped his cheek into it as he watched Carlisle. It was his mouth that got him, distracted by it as he pronounced his words with such a soft roll to them. It was easy to get lost, though it was not Peter's intention to turn into a puppy and cling to the first interesting person that happened to talk to him for more than a few minutes.

He really had a bad habit of that. A friendly conversation so rarely meant that the people involved were friends for life. No wonder Peter ended up so lonely at the end of the day. He expected great things from people.

"DI...is that like a captain then? Chief of police? And man, seriously? You could write a book on your love life! I bet they'd make it into a TV show. I'd absolutely watch it."

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

"Detective Inspector, I'm not the top, its a high position, not quite a DCI or Chief but pretty good," Peter explained, running his tongue along his teeth as he tasted what he'd been eating before, making him once again hungry.

Raising an eyebrow at the very mention of his love life being that exciting, he adamantly shook his head in disagreement. "I wouldn't watch but then again, it'd be like watching a train wreck for me. Its considerably less fun as kids."

Offering Peter a small smile, he lipped his hands into his coat and produced a lolly, popping it into his mouth.. He never liked not having something there. He paused before digging his hands back into his pockets and searching around.

Producing a second lolly, ha happily offered it out.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Biting his lower lip, Peter snatched the lollipop from the other man's hand like a kid and leaned back against the door as if trying to horde the sweet. Carlisle seemed like the kind of guy that he could have a really good time with.

The talking was easy. He could only imagine what he'd be like at a restaurant. Or on Coney Island. They'd stop at every funnel cake and hotdog stand along the way between rides.

Peter Land already had them as being great friends, though Carlisle was probably his brother's age, forty or so. Then again, Peter'd always preferred the company of older people. It was the kid in him looking for structure perhaps. He never analyzed himself...with good reason.

"Do you have hallow legs are something? Wanna go get dinner?" Right, because Peter Carlisle would really wanna have dinner with a weirdo, somewhat stalkerish stranger than kept watching his mouth.

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

"I put it on the top of the car when I went to get ice cream, it fell off, someone picked up it... its a long story, one I'd prefer you never tell my new boss. I don't think he likes me. He keeps calling me Carlie."

Pulling a face, he took a sip of his beer and slumped back, simply happy to have some time off and relax. He loved his job and he loved his work but sometimes he just wanted to sleep.

It was one of those days and if it weren't for a commitment made to Peter, he wouldn't of even been here. He'd off been at home by now. Probably staring at that weird stain on the ceiling again as he tried to doze off.

"My day isn't important. Did I miss anything fun earlier?"

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

"You missed six single girls excited that they might have someone with a Scottish accent come to talk to them. You might have met your future ex-Mrs. Carlisle."

Peter finished with his fussing and sat down on the couch again. He didn't sit like other men his particular size and build in the land of pence and quid. It was too girlish to cross his legs in New York and Peter almost overcompensated for his maleness in certain things. Not on mother-henning of course, that was straight up like a whiskey shooter. The way he sat, slumped and legs apart, his knees were almost touching Peter's.

"Girls go crazy for accents around here," he explained, dropping his head back on the couch. "Man, you must be tired."

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

Well, damn. He could of met some nice women, had a few drinks and generally had a good time. Instead, his foot was throbbing, he was exhausted, fed up and very worried he'd end up snapping at Peter. Biting his lower lip, it took a deep inhale and tried to make sure he kept himself upright.

"Well, we'll have to try and another time. I need a few more future Mrs Carisles. Lifes just not fun with two women bleeding you dry, eh?"

Smiling, he glanced up at the clock before stretching out and yawning. "Right, I need to call a cab, get some sleep maybe. We could do something tomorrow. I'll even try not to be late!"

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Peter had just gotten here! Gotten there, had a beer, ate some pizza... He did his best to smile, but he would admit to being disappointed. "You could just crash here," he said, before his lower lip sunk down, always knowing just when to make him look like some sort of retarded clown. He stood up quickly. "Sorry, I'm told I try to fix the world. I didn't mean anything..."

It was hard to walk two and a half blocks on a broken foot, but still, two blocks away seemed like such a waste when he had a perfectly good couch.

Ah Peter. His brother would laugh at him and say he was trying to pick up strays again.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

"Fifteen CCs of benohydroxide," Peter said, speaking outloud as he followed the instructions on the patient's chart left by his doctor. He smiled at the man, finished pushing the dosage through his IV. He patted him on the shoulder and checked his heartbeat before headed back down the hallway towards the nurse's station.

Pulling up his white thermal undershirt's sleeves, he glanced at the time and then checked his phone. Message from his mother, but nothing he really cared to get back to her about.

He sighed and smiled again when he passed one of his classmates. "Oh, have you in maternity today?" he asked, just trying to be nice. She had on her lamb scrubs, after all. Seemed like a good guess. "I'm in general admissions again."

Not a bad break. Pediatrics were tomorrow. He was looking forward to it. Not enough not to check his phone again, though.

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

Work finished at 12:30 and after dinner, a nice drink and wandering around lost for a while, he went to the only other place he knew to see the only person he knew.

Which is why he was sitting in the hospital waiting room, pulling funny faces at the sick boy and his brother, prompting plenty of laughs.

His lie to get in? Well, he was rather badly faking an injured wrist.

Fortunately the nurse thought he was rather cute and sweet, so she humoured him. Which was good, though he was pretty sure she wanted to pet his hair as well.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

The name on the file he picked up at the desk made him frown before he shoved it under his arm and trotted out to the waiting room. "Taxi ran over your wrist now?"

He stood behind the other Peter as he had yesterday evening, arms crossed over his chest and a wry but amused smile on his face. He couldn't help himself. The man was ridiculously accident prone.

If Peter had checked the file, he would have seen that Carlisle had been marked as having full range of movement and as being a hypochondriac based on lack of genuine injury. But he hadn't.

The name was enough to send him running.

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

"Oh no, not this time, just got bashed a bit, rather painful actually. Twisted when I stumbled at work," Carlisle lied, knowing that he was actually starting to feel guilty now. He was kind of wasting Peters time and he could see the sick people around him kind of needed Peter's help.

Sighing reluctantly, he gave Peter the same look his old dog used to give him when he'd chewed something up he shouldn't of.

"Its fine. I'm lying, its fully in use. I'm sorry, I just got bored and I needed someone to see and I wanted to see you but you're working and I have no where else to go here. Truth is, I've barely even banged my wrist since I got here."

Coming clean was something Carlisle couldn't resist when he was lying to someone he liked.

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

Peter could of said something lovely and polite but instead, he shoved the carrier bag into Peters hand and gave Nathan a slightly smug look.

"Told you, no drugs, no whores just... waiting."

Or more stalking after Peter and hanging around outside his house till the other man noticed he was out there and invited him up. Which, in all fairness, worked perfectly!

Turning his head to Peter, he gave the other man a look that was very much his best puppy eyes. "I offended you, didn't I? Cause you ran off. Was it the 'humans are jerks' thing?"

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Holding onto the bag, Peter watched Carlisle for a moment as he spoke to his brother, and seemed almost at a loss for things to say when he was addressed. Tilting his face upwards, Peter could have been fifteen or so instead of twenty-six, his youth exaggerated by his massive brown eyes and lengthened hair.

"I...well, you did a little, yeah," he said, fawning really.

Nathan frowned, watching the interaction, and had another beer just because he could.

"More like...I thought you were making fun of me."

"Oh come on," Nathan groaned under his breath.

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

"Making fun of you? did it ever occur to you that I'm just that tactless and annoying?"

It was odd to admit that aloud but hey, he couldn't deny his nature. All of humanity sucked, even him. He knew it and he was sure his new found friend knew it too, he just didn't want to admit it.

"Why would I make fun of the first friend I've had since a wonderful little man named Blythe? Who, by the way, is a DC whose paid to be with me. So essentially, a man had to be paid to hang out with me," Well, not exactly but he was being very honest. Wives excluded, he didn't get on well with most.

Only the ladies. "You do it willingly, you're either mad or very nice and either way, I'd prefer we didn't stop being friend this quickly."

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

With Nathan muttering that this was turning into either a really bad gay porno film or a bromance comedy, Peter's eyes never once left Carlisle's face. Never once trailed from his eyes. There he was, being a jerk and charming all at once.

"I don't know what a DC is," Peter said, and then felt foolish for having only that to say to that whole spiel. He swallowed thickly and finally ripped his gaze from the other Peter's before he could be caught staring. "You're only here for a few more days, I'm probably the kinda guy you want to be having any sort of...friendship...with."

Nathan rolled his eyes and stood up finally, coming between them to put his hand on his brother's shoulder. Peter was blushing and Nathan was not clueless enough not to know what might have been going on.

"Pete. Brother's night. Remember?"