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?"

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Peter found himself constantly laughing, even when his patient started to hum. So his boss was right about that too. Peter was pretty sure he was drunk. Or high. He'd have to take some blood to be sure, which did seem like a shame really because the guy was wholly likable.

As the elevator dinged and the doors open, Peter guided the chair back, drawing it with him so that the other Peter was facing front.

"Peter Petrelli," he answered quickly enough.

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

"Oooh, look at us! The two Peters, we could start a sketch show," Peter joked, making a small noise of amusement at their lucky coincidences. Not many people met someone directly with their own name, it was one of those wonders of life.

"Right, so we scan my foot, get it all sorted out... then I pay and go home-- well, I guess I don't go home. I find a room to stay. Well, point still stands. Its not going to take long, is it?"

He had no where to run off to as he didn't exactly have much else to do but he never did like hospitals that much.

"I have to find the New York police station yet and its already getting on to 6."

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

"You came to New York without a place to stay?" Peter met the other's eyes in the reflection of the elevator door. He thought that was pretty damned stupid, but he kept it to himself, smirking a little instead. "Man, let me tell you something, if you wanted a good place to stay, you need to book it weeks in advance. I hope you're all right with a motel."

The reached the proper floor and Peter reached forward to tap the hold button on the door so that it didn't close on him while he wheeled Peter out.

"Do you want to file a report? I can have someone come up and meet us."

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

"I didn't really think until I was on the plane that I'd forgotten that part. I handle everything else and that lovely lady in the reception office offered to watch my bags till I'm done. Motels will do. I've slept in worse."

He'd been in a rush really, everything was a bit of a mess back home and his unstoppable need to just run away and leave it all left him to take this rather impulsive case in New York.

"File a-- Oh, no. Sorry, you have it wrong. I work there, or will do soon. I have the drivers licenses plate but it just seems easier to let it go," It seemed he was running on bad luck these days but it didn't knock his spirit, he still smiled.

Even with a crippled foot.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

"Oh, are you a cop?" he took a turn a bit sharply to avoid another patient and their orderly. "You've a case here then? I thought about being a police officer once. I sort of went through this period where I tried a little bit of everything. My dad's not too thrilled that his youngest went into nursing."

Peter laughed and 'parked' the other Peter in one of the X-Ray rooms. There was a cute redhead technician there, but she seemed to be fiddling with the console and muttering to herself.

As he had no idea how to work that stuff, Peter just went to help the taller man up and get him onto the table instead.

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

"Detective Inspector, in fact. Called in to give a profile for someone who escaped us in London," Peter explained, using Peter's shoulder for support as he limped along to table and clambered up. He'd never had an X-Ray before but frankly, he was rather curious how this all would work. Plus, he got to eye the rather good looking red head from where he was sitting.

"My dad never really cared, he was busy. So was my mom. And so was I actually, I had three dogs," Grinning, he laughed to himself, crossing his arms and falling back onto the table, eager to get all this over and done with.

He didn't like the idea of being stuck here all night when he still had to find somewhere to sleep.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

"Detective inspector? Sounds cool." Peter didn't know a thing about how Scottish police worked. Detective and inspector sounded like the same thing to him. Wasn't Sherlock Holmes an inspector? Well, now he couldn't remember.

He liked a different sort of crime fiction. A more colorful one. Which preferrably contained capes and amazing powers.

He moved to Peter's foot to take off his shoe and sock before he started in on his belt. "Sorry about this man, don't meant to be fresh. Just can't have metal on you. Can I see your badge?"

It was half his job and half curiosity.

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

Raising an eyebrow as the man removed his belt, as if he somehow couldn't himself, he lay back and let the nurse handle it with an amused smile on his face. "Sure you don't want to frisk me for it."

Winking playfully, Peter slipped off his jacket and toss it across to the other man. "Mental buttons, the badge is in my top left pocket. Want to check me out or are you just bored?"

Slipping his arms behind his head, he waited patiently for the girl to turn on the machine, breathing patiently as the dull ache of his foot rather through him. The painkillers he'd been given helped but it was still throbbing.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Oh, sometimes patients were so bad! Peter laughed at the innuendo and winked at the Scotsman before he folded his things on the chair for him and snaked his belt across it. "Not checking up on you. I'm just genuinely curious."

He found the badge case easily enough as the technician finally came out from behind her screen. She laid a lead pad across Peter's lap to protect his ability to produce children and then she, and the nurse, ducked behind their screen.

"Just stay still," the redhead commanded.

Peter was much too preoccupied with the coolness of the badge to do much more than wait for the r-rays to be finished.

"This is really awesome," Peter gushed when it was all over. He bounced towards the DI with a big, goofy grin on his face. "How's the foot? It looks a little swollen, but there's no fracture lines."

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

X-Rays were odd, he had to admit, as he slowly left the machine, he pulled himself upright and peered down at the swollen foot. It hurt like hell but he didn't feel like complaining, he merely wriggled his toes before shrugging.

"Just fine! And thank you, but I do rather need that back," Carlisle explained, plucking the badge free from Peters fingers and tugging it into his trouser pocket.

Carefully pulling himself upright, he grabbed his items and slowly started to put them back on, leaving the shoe on his bad foot off. For now anyway.

"So I can just go or what?"

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Peter tucked his head to the side and blinked, eyes filling with wonder. "Well, we wait for the pictures to get developed first. Takes about half an hour. A doctor will come in to check it and confirm it's not broken. I'll wrap it for you, get you a boot, some crutches and a prescription for some pain meds."

He helped Carlisle with his belt, arms around the other man's slim waist.

"I'm afraid you're stuck with me for a little while still."

He wheeled the cop out of the room and down the hall to another room, flicking on the television.

"Can I get you something? Coffee? Do Scottish people prefer tea instead? Donuts since you're a cop?" Peter was a charming kid, twenty-six years old, and obviously an idealist.

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

Another half an hour? Great. That was all he needed. Pulling a face of dismay, he dropped down into the wheelchair. He didn't exactly want crutches on his first day in America. What would the other coppers think? Probably that he was a right dork.

Adjusting his jacket and making sure his shirt was find, he leaned his head back to glance up at Peter.

"I drink coffee, you know. Anything with caffeine in it really. But if you want to get me a donut, that works!" Peter declared with a cheerful grin, unable to turn down free food. He was starving, even if he'd recently had a ton of snacks from the vending machine.

He just got hungry fast these days.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

"Coming right up."

Peter had a tendency to idolize people. Cops, doctors, paramedics, firefighters... He loved heroes. He loved the potential of being a hero. Sure, he was just a nurse, two months from getting an RN attached to the back of his name for a title, and that was relatively a heroic thing! He just put himself in the line of fire. He wasn't where the action was.

He didn't safe people. He simply tried to nurture them.

Peter returned ten minutes later with a coffee and two donuts. "You could always call the precinct you're assigned to. Bet they'd hook you up."

[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.

Monkies always share noms ^____^ *offers banana!*

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

Letting his nice warm finger curl around his lip, he watched Peter for a moment, trying to think of a way to explain the whole thing without looking mad... well, madder.

"She was pretty and I wanted to talk to her, I noticed she dropped 5p, not a lot but it was an excuse. She was moving too fast and I didn't want to run and I thought it would be slicker if I knocked on the door and said something charming before handing it over. Instead, I knocked the door and she hit me with her complimentary ice bucket."

It didn't sound very cool to say aloud but he still smiled about it. He had some fond memories he wouldn't change for the world. "Course, we ended up doing it at the hospital... then at the motel. Then in her car. Then in the restaurant bathroom. Then, finally, we started dating. Married a year later, broke up a month later."

I haz a banana for breakfast too! And strawberries *shares!*

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

The constant flutter of Peter's eyelashes as he listened to the suave sound of the Scottish accent was marked by each improbable step of the journey. Though it had nothing to do with him, Peter's generally failed attempts at dating seemed...

Childish.

He found himself leaning towards the other Peter as he spoke, cheeks slightly colored as the twisted tale ended with a divorce. Well, he had said his first wife.

"Did your other marriage go like that too?" Peter was quite an apt little puppy. He had rounds to make, things to do. He really didn't need to be sitting here with Carlisle. Oh well.

I had an energy drink and an apple! Less awesome than a nana!

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

Well, he never really did happy endings, not with his life. Not that he sat down and had a good cry over anything, he wasn't that sad or pathetic, his life may have been a whirlwind of misfortune and oddness but he was content as ever.

"My last one. My latest one, actually. Long story, I helped her cheat on her husband, we fell in love, husband steps back, we get married and then she decides she wants her husband back. Hence she then cheats on me. funny little circle isn't it?"

Smiling, Carlisle peered around to see if there was anything else to eat before giving in and simply knocking back what was left of his coffee.

"She was lovely though, before she tore out my heart, stamped on it till it was pulp, blended it up and, I assume, served it to her husband for dinner," the odd little smile never left his face as he spied Peters donut, trying his very best to restrain himself. "You can never beat the start of a relationship, can you?"