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

Woah, Tennant was only 33 when he was in Blackpool o.o *did not know that*...he looked much older!

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

Twirling the lolly around in his mouth, he made a small noise of agreement before plucking the sweet from his mouth and shrugging. "I'm in the mood for pancakes and I haven't eaten anything properly yet. I'm in the mood for something sweet," Course, in Peters terms, a 'proper' dinner just meant it had a plate and some eating utensils.

It was a good excuse to have about three dinners a day. Carlisle managed to never cease eating yet somehow stayed skinny as anything.

"You'll have to show me around the good food places, if you have the time. Oooh! Then we could find an arcade, maybe a coffee shop and of course, we have to find the music shop. They're the first things I always find in a new place."

If Peter had been cautious about Carlisle not wanting to spend time with him, he really should of been looking at it the other way around.

I think he's more...ageless. He fits the 30-40something well.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

"You're in luck. I know where all of that is! Hey, can you take us--" Peter rattled off a new intersection for the driver to take them, one close by. Sure, it was raining and he had been on his feet for ten hours straight putting up with bitchy nurses and doctors with God complexes, but as soon as the word 'arcade' was mentioned, he was raring to go.

Four blocks and ten minutes later in New York traffic, they pulled over and Peter paid the entire fare. He even took Carlisle's bag and pointed him in the direction of a large indoor gallery.

The sign outside said 'Dave & Buster's!' (http://www.daveandbusters.com/) in blue and orange. "You'll love this place. Restaurant, full bar, and arcade games. They spit out tickets too and you can get prizes! I've got a whole row of little plastic army men on my windowsill."

He is a bit, he stays the same forever o.o... *is scared now* ... :(

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

Gripping his bag with his favourite possession in it, he made sure to keep that one the closest as he hurried along after Peter, eager to see where he'd been taken. He hadn't signed into the office he was working, hadn't gotten a home for the week, most his junk ward with him. Yet here he was, more interested in an arcade.

And the words 'full bar' was well as he needed. Food, alcohol and arcade games with gimmicky toys he could win!

He didn't like the gambling machines and he had a natural phobia of that kind of stuff thanks to one Ripley Holden but this was the first time he had been willing to brave arcades since he's failed marriage.

Luckily, he had a slightly odd if not fun companion to help him.

((Have to go run the dog around the field across from me XD back in half an hour, is shorter distance than my usual place ^____^ <3))

EVIL TENNANT!

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Peter got them a table, the girl trying to flirt with him though his eyes were constantly going to Carlisle instead. That probably was a sign, though of what, that happened to be a bit unknown. Following the plucky waitress up to the second floor to overlook the expansive gameroom (http://photos.igougo.com/images/p332864-New_York-Dave_and_Busters.jpg), Peter slipped into the booth and stashed all of their bags in the corner. He knew well how to hide important things from thieves!

"Can you bring us one of those massive appetizer dishes, you know, with a little of everything? And beers? What do you drink, Peter?"

He only suffered his brother shortening his name to 'Pete' so he didn't want to do it with this near stranger turned most fun to be around friend.

o.o Not again!

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

Peter was idly humming under his breath and not actually paying attention to his new friend as he peered around the games room, more interested in playing than thieves or drinks. He just wanted to jump right in.

"Err, beer, lager, scotch, wine, gin, whatever. I'm not particularly fussy," Peter promised, winking at the nurse before he took off across the room, doing a little spin as he did so.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he watched the other lads play the games, studying how it was done and what currency was needed. Well, he didn't exactly have any quarters himself.

His tongue poked out slightly and he bite it half way down as he watched, unaware of himself and everything else was round him.

:3

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Peter was studying the man again as he peered over the railing. He wanted to tell him that he thought he was awesome, but then wisely thought better of it. More than likely, Peter wouldn't exactly get that the fawning nurse wasn't trying to hit on him, just to be closer to someone that felt great to be around.

Of course, in actuality, Peter Petrelli was smitten with the charismatic DI, he just didn't let himself feel that way for obvious reasons.

It never seemed to dawn in him why he felt certain ways for certain people, or why he constantly failed at relationships with women. But no matter, he was happy as he was.

Food arrived not long after and Peter set out their plates for them, grinning at Carlisle. "You'll love it. Ultra high in all the bad stuff."

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

Peter wasted little time tucking into the food, he never really waited for anyone. He wasn't the kind of person who stuff everything into their mouth, he more idly picked and never seemed to stop doing so till everything was gone or on the floor.

"Well, I have about a week here before I have to go back to England, any chance I can get some tips about the neighbourhood. Any descent coffee places or what?"

He liked to have the lay of the land, frankly he was kind of eager to find places he may 'accidentally' stumble into Peter too often.

Bothering Peter for his attention didn't seem fair but if he was to happen to run into his then Carlisle could get away with happily stalking the younger man and not looking like an utter creep.

Or so he hoped!

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Trying to pick apart a piece of potato and cheese, Peter tried to tick off the places in his head. "I can always show you around tomorrow. It's my day off. And you've probably got a date with some American cops."

He grinned almost shyly at Carlisle, not really aware that he was doing it.

"You know, I'd probably pay you to keep talking." It was flirty and fun, though once again, Peter had little idea of what he was doing. Despite appearances, he had little use for romance. He didn't quite understand his own reactions.

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

"I have work tomorrow, I suppose, long overdue for it. Once I start work I don't tend to have much free time. Evenings and nights off though," he mumbled, mentally planning out his way as he cut into a nearby cake with his knife and sneaked a slice before the actual dinner was eaten.

Normal conventions be damned. He wanted cake!

Looking up at Peter with a bemused expression, he licked the frosting from his hand and smiled slightly. Why would Peter pay to hear him talk, most people told him to shut up or piss off. The men at the office were constantly facepalming over him and he couldn't work out why. Then again, most labelled him as 'that odd DI'. So he started singing '9 to 5' and dancing in the breakroom when he thought no one was there, didn't mean he was that odd.

"How much do you think I could make?"

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Peter blinked and settled back in his chair, wrists still resting on the edge of the table as he considered the question. "Enough for a meal, if you're not too busy being a cop tomorrow night," Peter said, smirking a little. It wasn't just cheeky. It was pretty obviously a flirt. "It'd work out pretty good. You could try to fill the black hole you've got doing on in the center of your stomach and i'll get to hear something nice."

He had to admit that he was a bit enthralled by the accent, and the constant way that Carlisle brought attention to his mouth.

Normally, Peter would be a bit disgusted by the way he kept licking his fingers...and touching their shared food but... He let the matter drop from his mind and took a bite of the potato skin as their beers arrived.

"If you're only here for a week, you're gonna get no time to site see."

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

"Aye, brilliant! That would be just great, could really use a friend," Carlisle agreed, making his way through the rest of the cake himself without actually offering Peter a slice. So he didn't really think over these things. His bad.

Taking his beer, he knocked back a mouthful before wiping his mouth onto his sleeve and smiling.

"Tomorrow then, it can be a 'work sucks' dinner cause no doubt, my job is going to suck. I mean, I've got to bloody fill in all my own transfer papers. American's are lazy."

Or more, he was and he didn't feel like filling stuff in.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

"First day on the job and you're just doing paperwork? Should have done that back in the UK," he pointed out. Carlisle seemed to be very willing to blame Americans on a lot of things, so Peter's only recourse was to prove to him that Americans could be awesome too!

Before all of the cake was gone, Peter reached across and wrestled a piece of cake directly from Carlisle's fingers. He winked at the man and popped the piece immediately into his mouth with a happy little sound to follow.

Pineapple upside down cake. It was delicious. Peter licked his thumb and stole a barbeque wing before Carlisle hit that too. It had started to become an eating contest. "Yanno, my brother and me, we use to do these things called backwards meals. We'd order dessert first and have salad last."

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

Peter stole his cake! Looking undeniably forlorn at the stolen cake, he pouted and slumped into the chair. That was just not fair, he always had the last slice! "Americans are also mean desert stealers."

There was a small flicker of amusement as he leaned over and grabbed his beer, drinking down a mouthful of it, he chuckled around the mouthful. He didn't care, he just found the whole thing amusing. Especially the idea of two grown brothers eating their dinners backwards.

Gulping it down, his tongue poked out as he grinned this time. "I just eat desert first, then coffee and let the person I'm with have the salad. Who wants to eat salad, anyway?"

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

"Not me!" Peter said adamantly. "Do you see any salad laying around? Nope." He shook his head and 'stole' the Scotsman's coffee. "But guess what, Americans are also mean coffee stealers too."

Dinner was funny and wonderful and then it was time to go and plan the arcades.

"Hey," Peter said, dropping their things in front of the skee ball game. "What me to win you a prize? If you're as bad at these games as you are at dodging taxis, I'm your only way to get anything at all."

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

Peter blinked slowly and leaned closer before giving the other Peter a small frown. "Err... I've never actually played this before, what are the rules?"

He didn't exactly know Skee ball at all but he was eager to learn. He could guess the basics but he didn't want to screw up and get lower score than Peter and lose. Carlisle picked up one of the balls and frowned before tossing the ball along.

As it landed into one of the holes, he raised an eyebrow, not sure what he'd scored or what was going on, just that this game was weird. They never had this in the UK! Well, not traditionally. "Ok... now what?"

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

"Here," Peter said, standing in front of the much taller Carlisle. "Watch me." He drew back his arm and snapped it forward again, rolling the ball up the ramp and into the center pocket. "Hundred points for that one. Twenty-five for the lowest. You gotta watch your force and your aim."

Twenty little tickets popped out of the machine as Peter got two hundred pockets in a row.

He was deadly competitive when it came to such little things. That's what happened when you had an older brother like Nathan, who made everything into a contest. As such, he was exceptionally good at what he did.

The dinging sound on his machine never stopped.

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

Peter watched in amazement as the other man completely destroyed the competition. He didn't exactly want to play and be embarrassed at having his ass kicked but he was having much more fun watching Peter win.

He seemed so happy, Carlisle couldn't stop himself from admiring it.

He hadn't been this happy in someones company for a very long while, he missed having fun with others. It was a shame that he'd have to leave in a week.

"You're impressive, I'll give you that. I guess balls aren't my thing," sniggering at his own unintentional joke, he shook his head in disbelief. "You know what I meant. Anyway, I'm better at video games!"

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

"I've got an Xbox, you should-- Yeah, I'm getting weird, huh? You're here for a job, not to hang out with the guy that wrapped your foot."

Peter smiled up at Carlisle just the same and shrugged lightly.

"Speaking of your foot, jeez, you shouldn't be standing on it. Ice and elevation. You've got some fractures there! C'mon." Breaking off their tickets, Peter shoved them into Carlisle's pocket as if he'd ever come back and play on his own before he nodded towards the door. "I'll get us another cab."

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

"You have an x-box? Brilliant, we should have a game or two, what have you got? Well, we can't do it tonight, I need sleep but how about tomorrow. Or whenever you're free?"

He was amused by how much Peter fussed but he limped along after Peter, happy to finally go ... wherever he was going. Closest motel with an opening now! He just had to find the right place, Peter did say there was one by him. He'd easily get an opening, he was sure of it.

"Do you have a mobile? And the number for the closest motel?" Carlisle asked, asking before he dashed off to get the cab. He really did need to get his stuff settled somewhere and to get some sleep in.

As much fun as this was.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

They exchanged numbers easily enough in the cab. It dropped the DI off first at a corner motel, and Peter explained his building was just two blocks up and half a block down to the cabbie before he waved goodbye to his same-named friend.

He had had a good time, a sort of good time he wasn't use to having. Peter grinned as he rode back to his apartment, looking at the new number in his cell. He even called his brother that night and gushed about the person he met. His new friend. He was sure his brother wasn't paying attention to half of it, especially when he asked about 'wedding bells.'

Even that didn't get him down much. He had a good sleep and a fairly good morning, anxiously waiting for the other Peter to let him know when they could meet for dinner.

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

Peter didn't like his bed, it was hard and uncomfortable. He didn't sleep well either, he just sort of stared at the ceiling and the questionable stain. He couldn't make up his mind if he was happy to be here or still heartbroken and sulking.

He supposed the same-name Peter was a nice break and he made sure he stored the number before he got up for work.

It was simple, fill in paper work, listen to the man in charge, try not to openly yawn in the other coppers faces and don't eat everything in the fridge during the snack break.

He was actually getting along with them! Even if they couldn't understand his accent half the time, probably because he mumbled when he was distracted, clouding his words in a thick Scottish tone.

There had been a report on the killer he was here to chase and he had to go all the way down town with the other blokes to see what was going on. It was already getting onto 5 and the day was showing no sign of ending.

And he'd left his phone in his new desks draw.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Peter hadn't been planning on calling, but as the other Peter didn't mention that he was going to call, perhaps they'd gotten wires crossed? Maybe Carlisle was waiting for him? Peter grinned, paused, frowned, and finally talked himself into smiling.

The phone rang to voicemail, but that was all right, he got to hear him. Peter didn't leave a message.

He waited an hour and then tried texting. Just a simple: 'Hey, still on for tonght?'

It was eight when he called again, pretty damned hungry and feeling a little let down.

"Hey, it's me. Peter. Petrelli. That guy that wrapped your foot yesterday," he said on the machine and then groaned, feeling stupid. "Um, I'm going to be this place called Jillians..." He gave the address. "Just tell the taxi guy and... Well hope to see you there."

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

By the time Peter got back to the office, it was 10:36pm and he was shattered. Dropping down onto the chair, he sighed loudly and took a few minutes to sort out his head. Well, he assumed he didn't have anything else to do. It wasn't till he started packing up for the day when he remembered his phone.

Oh fuck.

He still went down to Jillians but no one was there, well no one Peter shaped at least. Frowning, he peered around the restaurant before staggering outside and slumping against the wall. Ditching the only friend he had in New York. Great work!

"Hi Peter! Its Peter, you know, the unreliable jerk who screwed up and is now about 2 hours late-ish. I'm sorry, work went a bit-- its a long story. I'm just sorry, ok? And I hope you can get back to me."

Hanging up, he gripped the phone tight and mentally kicked himself. He really liked Peter as well, this could of fone worse.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

"Three hours actually," Peter said, hands in his pockets as he watched Carlisle for a moment. He'd seen him leave when he got out of the bathroom, three very slowly drunken beers into waiting for him. His friends were still inside, and by 'friends' he meant the girls from his nursing class. They'd been thrilled he'd said he'd go out with them for once, amused that he'd asked a guy to meet them, and then tried to cheer him up when that guy never showed.

They were still in there talking about him, about how all of the really cute ones were gay, but he wasn't there to see them.

Peter stood low enough that he did have to lift his face quite a bit to actually look up at Carlisle, but he didn't mind. "So. Got time now to tell me about your long story? Could just come back to my place. You look like you need somewhere to sit." He nodded to his foot.

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

"Three? God, thats worse," Rubbing at his eyes, he offered Peter a tired smile, knowing he definitely let this guy down. He wasn't sure why it mattered so much that the bloke who wrapped his foot might be upset with him but it really did.

Nodding his head, he limped after Peter into the place, dropping down into one of the chairs and sighing. "I got called out, ran around New York, got yelled at by about 30 peoples for God knows why, ran into a magazine rack, lost my gun, had to go find the gun and then finally, I had to find a cab to get back to the office. Even then I had to file papers and-- it was just a really bad day."

Putting his head in his hands, he offered Peter a weak smile. "I am sorry I'm late."