Peter Petrelli (mimic_peter) wrote in 12monthsback,
Peter Petrelli

Date: December 23rd, 2005
Character(s): Peter Petrelli, Claire Bennet
Summary: It's Peter's birthday. He's not really that jazzed about it. (Yes, we went back in time just a little for this one. It's nothing to do with the time plot. Just us feeling bad for the poor bastard.)
Status: Complete.
Mostly private. If you have a good reason to be there, then ping.

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Tags: claire bennet, it's your birthday bitch, peter petrelli
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Peter gave her a look. He didn't really want to try and avoid death on his birthday. But he didn't want to make a big deal out of his birthday, so it didn't matter if he tried to evade death today or tomorrow or the day after that. Except that would be Christmas.. but he wasn't looking forward to that day either.

He sighed. "One bite," Peter said, pointing his finger at her. "And if I die, then it's all your fault."
"Do you plan on carrying me there, Claire?" Peter asked, teasing her lightly. Since he didn't have a car and a cab driver would probably ask a lot of questions and take too long, it was probably the only option that she had. Besides the obvious which was calling an ambulance.

"I don't think you could even lift me off the ground," he added, shaking his head at her. Peter was by no means fat or overweight or even near the average weight for his height. She was just that tiny. Indestructible didn't make you strong necessarily.
Peter frowned at her slightly, arching his eyebrow in confusion. She did that sometimes. Said something that pretty much didn't fit in the context of the conversation, and he was sure that it made sense to her in her head but out loud? Kind of made her a big dork... and that was part of why he loved her so much, so he didn't even want to make her explain it. The dorkiness made it entirely Claire.

"I'm not even going to ask," Peter commented, shaking his head a little.
Peter eyed the ice cream thawing on the counter for a few seconds, before sighing to himself and reaching for his calzone. It was his birthday. That meant he had to have his favorite food of the moment, which was calzones. Last year it had been a meatball sandwich. It was a little tradition that he had that he hadn't shared with anyone.

"I'll try some of the blue soda," he told her in response to her expectant look.

"So long as you start drinking the tap water after that gallon of bottle water's gone."
Peter watched her push herself up on the counter, keeping any and all of his thoughts to himself. He didn't necessarily have a problem with her sitting on his counter. It wasn't like it was made out of anything quality. He just... had a problem with himself automatically thinking of their first kiss. Their first real kiss anyway.

He sighed to himself and shook his head lightly, staring down at his food for a few long seconds. The calzone was good. The soda was good. Hanging out with her is good. Everything was just good. Well, most everything.

"What else do you want to do today?"
Peter made a slight face at that, sticking his tongue out at her and then his food as he dropped his gaze in the middle of the gesture. Just because it was his birthday, that didn't mean that he magically had some idea of what to do with his life.

"I really... really don't want to make a big deal of it. Or any kind of deal out of it," Peter said slowly and carefully, like he thought that she'd understand it better that way. It'd already been put down as a crappy birthday anyway. Nathan hadn't made any attempt to contact him and it was already past noon.

"It's just.. not... that important."
Peter sighed to himself, wanting to just put his head down on the table and not move until everything just fixed itself for him. If he wanted long enough then Claire would turn legal and Nathan wouldn't hate him anymore and maybe his power would fix itself because he was tired of trying to make everything fit when nothing did.

"I'll only watch them if they're animated and there's bad singing," he said, trying to joke. It sounded more strained and forced and completely not that funny. Maybe he really would just put his head down and not move.

Peter sighed a little louder and passed his fingers through his hair. "Nathan hasn't called or shown up or anything," he offered. If she was going to have to put up with his bad mood and sulking, then she deserved to know why. And she would understand why he was so upset about it because she was Claire and she was just that amazing.

"He usually does by now," Peter added, shrugging a little bit and staring at his food. "That's all. I just... don't really care about today."
Maybe it got to be too much for her but Peter didn't want to let go of her at all. He knew that Claire still liked him and wasn't mad at him at least. That made him want to cling to her and just not let go until things got better. Nothing bad had happened while he was hugging Claire. Yet.

Peter stood a few moments later, tossing the eighth of the calzone left in the trash and setting his plate in the sink. She'd done the dishes from breakfast, he noted, frowning a little bit. That would have to change. He didn't want to make her do chores.

"Alright," Peter said, walking into the living room and holding up a spoon for her to grab. "Let's get your murder attempt over with."
"Or you're just trying to kill me," Peter retorted, taking the spoon from her and staring at it for a long moment. Even if he wasn't allergic to peanuts and hadn't avoided anything related to peanuts since he was kid, her ice cream still didn't look that appealing. He was a mint chocolate chip kind of guy, through and through. To the point where it was the only ice cream he'd eat unless he was desperate, which really didn't happen that often.

Peter glanced over at her, giving her a little bit of a look before sticking the spoon in his mouth. He could feel the effect of the peanuts in his system before he even swallowed that bite of ice cream. The slight tingling in his fingers and the dizziness and the feeling like his skin was on fire in some places.

By the time he had swallowed the ice cream, stubbornly, he was coughing every two seconds, sitting down on the red leather chair. It was nearly as bad as what had happened when he was kid. He might've been five but he remembered it perfectly and he had to give her power credit for not letting him die. It just let him be uncomfortable now.

"Thanks.." cough "... Claire," Peter managed to get out, throwing her a dark look.
Peter continued to give her the same dark look, even after she got him a glass of water and had sat across the table from him and showed signs of caring if he passed out or died or anything like. Pretty much every nice thing that she could've done. Handing him the ice cream in the first place notwithstanding.

"It's been slow..." Cough. Sip of water. Sigh. Cough again. "... lately," he explained, gesturing at his knee. She'd been there when he'd hit and it'd taken about twelve hours to heal instead of a couple minutes. The situation with his power really hadn't improved since then.
"It's fine. I'm..." cough "... fine," Peter told her, shaking his head a little. Really, compared to his last reaction with peanuts, he was alright. He wasn't going to die. He wasn't going to need to go to the hospital. He was just going to be in some discomfort for a while. It was without a doubt an improvement.

He coughed into his hand and shook his head again. "Not your fault," Peter managed to rasp out. He had agreed to try it and he could've spit out the ice cream once he had the feeling that it wasn't going to turn out very well.

"Really," Peter added. "I'm fine."
Peter raised an eyebrow at her, taking the glass of water without a word and sipping at it. Of all the things that they could've or needed to talk about, his power and subsequent lack of it... was really not on the top of his list. Not in the top ten or even the top twenty. Well maybe the top twenty but like eighteen or nineteen.

"I didn't think that you'd..." he paused, searching for the right word. Peter coughed into his hand and sipped at the water again. Things were finally evening out. It was more like just a tickle in his throat.

"Well... care."
"There's a cure," Peter replied, sipping the water and coughing again. It was called an ambulance, a shot, and getting his stomach pumped and staying in the hospital overnight but otherwise he'd be fine.

"I survived the last time I had peanuts, didn't I?" Barely but he wasn't going to tell her that.

He sighed and set the water down on the table. "Next time I'll tell you all about my power and how much it sucks."
"I guess I figured it was working better then that," Peter replied softly. Or maybe he'd just hoped that was the case. Usually a magical fix to his problems happened if he just ignored them and didn't do anything to make them worse. Like be around other specials and try to use his powers.

"Sorry for making you worry," he offered after sitting there in silence for a couple minutes. Peter only coughed twice in that silence. He'd consider it a victory over his allergy now.
Peter bit down on his bottom lip, glancing over at her for a long moment. He had the distinct feeling that he'd made her mad or something. Because she wanted to prove that her ability negated any allergy that he might've had and he'd agreed to it to make her happy. That hadn't really worked out.

"I'm really sorry," he offered. "I didn't mean to upset you."
Peter sighed and curled one of his legs up towards his chest, followed shortly by the other one. He watched her for a few seconds, resting his chin on top of his knees. This was why he didn't leave his apartment or do anything anymore. Because he ended up messing up everything.

"Also... didn't want to make a big deal out of it," Peter said softly, dragging his eyes away from her and turning them on the TV. She didn't want to talk about it. So he didn't want to either.
Peter bumped his chin against his knees a couple times, his special version of the moment of slapping his forehead or hitting his head against a wall. If there was any other way that he could mess this up, he would like to know what it was right now. Just so he wouldn't make the stupid mistake of making everything awkward between them.

He sighed and unfolded his legs, getting off the chair and following her into the kitchen, where he proceeded to stare at her for a few seconds before stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her shoulders. That was his way of thanking her for being so concerned about him.

"I'm fine," Peter whispered, resting his chin against the top of her curls before pulling away from her. "Thanks for being worried about me but it's really not needed. I'll figure it out. It might take a while but I will. I promise."
"Alright," Peter replied softly, feeling like he wanted to contest her decision on the nap but ultimately deciding that it would just cause more problems and more awkwardness and they'd had enough of that for today. He wasn't going to push her anymore and hopefully she'd return the favor.

He gave her a soft smile before turning and heading for the living room, where he proceeded to curl up on the couch. The animated Christmas movie was still on and he didn't bother to change it as he reached for Suresh's book again.

Peter really was trying to figure out his power. It was easier said then done when he was doing it all by himself with a book that didn't even recognize that his power could exist.
Peter was getting close to slamming the book shut and pushing it to the ground. He needed something or someone that acknowledged his power was real and then knew what to do to control it. Claude seemed to know and he'd helped a little bit a few weeks ago. Peter just had no idea where to find him now and that really didn't help at all.

Right as he sighed and moved to close the book, his phone started ringing. He ended up shoving the book to the ground without bothering to close it first as he practically bolted across the room to grab the cell phone before it went to voicemail.

"Hello?" Peter asked, sounding a little breathless. There was a tense moment before he sighed and his shoulders visibly relaxed. Of course it wouldn't be that simple. Certain people didn't get over their grudges that quickly.

"Hey Jack... no, you got the date right, happy birthday to me..."
Peter laughed under his breath. "Ummm... no, we're not going to have a repeat of last year," said, laughing again when his friend protested that decision. Even if Peter was feeling up to be around normal people, which he wasn't, there was still Claire to consider. He couldn't exactly bring her to a bar and then his friends would ask questions about her. And he wasn't going to leave her behind.

"Because I don't really want to this year," Peter replied patiently. "Maybe next year," he offered. He could see any reason for twenty seven to be any better then twenty six. Except that Nathan would probably have forgiven him by then and Claire would be very close to eighteen.

"Yeah, thanks," he said, sifting his fingers through his hair idly. "I'm kind of in the middle of something... yeah... I'll talk to you later." Peter sighed as he lowered the phone from his ear, pausing for a moment before holding his finger down on the red power key.

If Nathan wanted to talk to him, well... Peter didn't care that much anymore.
Peter turned to look at her curiously, holding his phone up for a couple moments before he moved and set it down on the table. He really should've been used to Claire's random subject changes by now. It all made sense to her but she had the context and he didn't and it was like a game. Find out what the hell Claire was talking about.

"I think they're alright..." he answered slowly, cocking his head to the side out of habit. It was just something Peter did when he was confused. He made the face and then he tipped his head.

"Did you dream about lizards?"
Peter glanced at the screen for a few seconds before turning to look at her and then proceeding to stare at her for a couple minutes, at least. Now that her question had a context, he knew what she was trying to say and... she pretty much astounded him. She did that a lot too, things that he wouldn't expect her to say or do, she said and did and he felt like he'd underestimated her or something.

"I've flown without Nathan there," Peter said softly, watching her for a little while longer before turning his attention back to the screen. "And I've healed without you around," he added, scanning the article. He was playing along with her attempt to help. Because she was the first person to offer it.

"So... wouldn't that make me more like a sponge?"
Well, that was a lot easier said then done since he had no control over when it happened. All he had to do was walk too close to someone with an ability and he had it somewhere inside his head and if it was a particularly active power, like Lance's, he caused an earthquake. And if he was around too many of them, he just kind of collapsed.

He'd rather just not have the power at all.

"That's just it," Peter said. "I can't really control it. Like you can't control your healing, I don't think I can stop myself from picking up some new power."
Peter eyed her cautiously for a few seconds. The last time they'd tried something with his power, he'd ended up coughing for fifteen minutes because she practically forced peanuts down his throat and his body wasn't quite equipped to deal with that completely. It seemed to be now... but that wasn't any indicator of her power actually working inside him now. For him at least.

"I swear to God if you give me ice cream again..." Peter muttered, doing as she asked and moving to his feet with a sigh.
Peter squeezed her hands idly, watching her for a few seconds before sighing and licking his lips. He couldn't really explain what had caused him to fly with Nathan. There was more to it then just walking out of a window, though that had certainly worked. It wasn't something that he wanted to repeat though.

"I don't know how I did it with Nathan," Peter told her, completely honestly. "I just... did and not always around him, so..." he shrugged a little and sighed.

"I remember being angry... like really angry when I caused an earthquake," he added a moment later. He was playing along with this because she seemed to know what she was talking about. "I don't get angry all that often."
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