Peter Petrelli (
stepsonbutterflies) wrote2013-01-04 11:45 am
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Now you're right beneath my feet, but still within my reach
He wanted an escape, an exit, a way out. Peter had screwed up everything so thoroughly that he couldn’t muddle his way out, at least not now. He needed a break from string theory, consequences, reactions and responsibilities. He couldn’t go back to before he’d messed things up, not until he had a solution because the potential for screwing things up further was too high. He needed to go somewhere fresh, somewhere he hadn’t touched to focus on how he could fix his timeline. Peter took a deep breath, closed his eyes and used Hiro’s teleportation.
When he opened his eyes, he had no idea where he was. It felt different from what he was accustomed to. It looked different and it certainly wasn’t torn up from a virus or an explosion. That was an improvement in and of itself. He took a step forward, glancing around for clues to where he was. Honestly, he didn’t really care where he was. It was a case of ‘anywhere but there’. This wasn’t there. It worked for him.
When he opened his eyes, he had no idea where he was. It felt different from what he was accustomed to. It looked different and it certainly wasn’t torn up from a virus or an explosion. That was an improvement in and of itself. He took a step forward, glancing around for clues to where he was. Honestly, he didn’t really care where he was. It was a case of ‘anywhere but there’. This wasn’t there. It worked for him.
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Instead she tugged at the hem of her shirt, stepping back to display a swath of perfectly tan skin marred by a huge puckered scar just under her rib cage that seemed to resemble what the aftermath of being impaled would look like. Arching her eyebrows, the shirt shifts higher, exposing the lime green lace of her bra and the ten inch scar on her chest from her heart surgery when she was a baby. "Scars aren't so bad."
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"It depends on how you got the scar."
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At her words, he met her eyes. His lips parted and he wanted to tell her that he wanted to know all of her secrets if only she'd keep looking at him like that, letting him touch her, letting him listen to the way her voice slid across his name. Instead, he simply nodded. Yes, he wanted to know a secret.
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"Most people only do it once."
Except that he'd died countless times, over and over again only to come back to life. He knew a now brunette that wanted him dead that had died more times than anyone could count. If they were both possible then didn't it stand to reason that Sassy was as well?
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He looked down at her, unwilling to move away but not sure what was going on. "You need another hobby."
His voice was quiet when he said it, more like he was offering rather than suggesting.
Sent from my Kindle Fire
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Vaguely similar.
But she was still willing to go with it, lips sliding into a small smirk. "What kind of hobby?" And before he could even answer, she added: "Do you want to come home with me? I'm making spaghetti and by making I mean I'm opening a can of spaghetti-o's and eating it right out of the can. But this place is pretty dead, so..."
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He'd been going to suggest the first thing that had come to his head like gardening or volunteer work or knitting, but she'd sidetracked him by asking him to come home with her.
"Do you often invite strange men you meet in cemeteries home?"
That was a yes. In case she was wondering.
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"I can see how I'd hold a certain appeal then," he smirked in response, continuing the rather macabre humor. He puts his hand in hers, uncertain even why he's doing it.
"In that case, I'd love to be taken home."
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He followed her without any real idea of why he was following her. He wasn't usually so trusting, so willing to put himself out there, but Sassy was very persuasive.
"Is it far?"
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Easy access to baby vamps, the bar scene for better vamps, and a hospital with a blood bank for savvy vamps. Sassy had them all within walking distance. She also had housekeeping and laundry services and access to the pool and gym, so the hotel's penthouse suite was pretty much the best apartment ever.
"My dad used to take me to stay here when I was little so when I moved out on my own, I... Moved there." And crossing the street now! She does look both ways, but luckily there is a lull in traffic on the relatively calm evening, so they don't need to play frogger to make it to the other side.
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Peter looks up at the hotel. It reminds him very much of something Nathan would arrange for him to live in. His brother paid for his apartment for years and Peter had allowed it because he figured his family owed him.
"Convenient," he says with a soft, wry sort of smirk.
Oh good. Being the frog hurts. Peter doesn't want to go through that and he'd rather not have to worry about her going through it either.
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Yeah, she's a slayer, twelve flights of stairs is nothing. Keep up, Peter!
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He's keeping up! Mostly.
"You just like taking stairs?"