2007-10-20: Just One Guy


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Summary: After the group has finally moved out of Bat Country and into guest areas of the Petrelli Mansion thanks to Nathan, Peter gets a visit from a certain uncle. He gets dressed and talked to, and gets reminded once again that he can't do everything on his own.

Date It Happened: October 20, 2007

Just One Guy

Guest Bedroom - Petrelli Mansion

The people who are sick have a few strict rules to follow to avoid spreading the disease to the other people in the mansion. Being as clean as possible is one of them. While his girlfriend is out of the guest area, doing something, Peter's cleaning up. Having just taken a shower, and afterward spraying down the bathroom. Keeping busy is about the only way he's keeping sane right now. With a towel around his waist, he's just moved into bedroom, finding clothes to wear while his other ones sit in a hamper to be washed by him, or Elena later. The door is closed, since there's women in the house, but not locked, as he's somehow forgotten to do that. Anyone who is asked will be able to direct someone to the room he stays in.

When Jack arrives, he looks like he's been worked over by a professional boxer. Recently. His face is a rapidly darkening mass of bruises, but he's smiling. He's got a large garment bag slung over one shoulder and a stack of take-out boxes piled precariously in the other arm. Understandably, it takes him a bit of groping around before he locates the doorknob and jostles it open. He pushed the door open with his behind and backs in, not out of modesty, but because he's close to spilling his pile of gifts. "Hey! Anybody in here? Jesus, this place is huge."

Sorting through some clothes in drawers of the guest bedroom he uses whenever he has to stay at the Mansion, Peter looks at the door as it opens and someone starts to walk in. A hand goes down to the towel, to make sure it stays on, and he almost fades into invisibility— until he sees who it is. For some reason Jack doesn't make him too worried about his state of dress… "Yeah, I'm in here— just close the door behind you, man." Besides being partially damp, he's still looking sick. A mix of pale and flush all at the same time, and he's lost weight recently from lack of activity, and probably lack of eating enough at that. But he certainly looks better than McBruisy over there. "Jesus, Jack, did you get into another fight?" Doesn't look like it was with 'them' though. No burned skin, no slashes. Looks like a brawl.

"Yeah. Being Catholic is hard." Grinning crookedly, Jack nudges the door shut with one toe and heads over toward the desk. After draping the garment bag across it, he lays the take out containers down one at a time. He upzips the bag, revealing that it has multiple layers and contains several suits that have been carefully tailored and pressed. "How're you feeling?" he queries as he considers his options, then selects a light gray suit with a black shirt and a pale pink tie. Humming absently under his breath, he starts laying the clothing out on the bed for Peter. "I brought dinner. Turns out there a nice Irish pub between here and the parish. Feel like a steak?"

"What little I know about it certainly says so— on your way to converting?" Peter asks, with only his towel to keep his modesty covered. His build is obvious, because he'd been working out even if he's short and compactly made, but the recent weightloss has come from his muscle tone as much as his stored fat— he's just not had much chance to work out this last month, with quaratine and being sick and all. Still, as the man picks out suits, he steps over and touches the man's hand, a light touch. If the hugging from the days before didn't do it, a touch to the hand won't. It's warm, but not because of fever. The healing energy doesn't even take much time. He inhales slowly when his hand comes back, "Still sick— but, I'll pass on the steak. I'm not a carnivore. I'm sure Nathan and Elena will eat enough of it to make up for what I don't. What's the suit for?"

Jack lets out a muffled grunt of surprise as bruises rapidly fade and wounds knit together. In moments, the scrapes he earned battling Father Brady are gone entirely, and some of his older injuries are sped through their natural healing process. Instead of seeming happy, he glances at Peter reproachfully. "You should be saving your strength. Put the suit on, it's for you. It should fit, I sized you up last time I saw you." He shakes his head slowly, then turns his back to give Peter a bit of privacy. "And yes, I am converting. Trying, anyway. How about you? Been keeping busy, other than having sex with my niece?"

"I still have enough strength for this… it's about the only thing I can do these days," Peter says, shaking his head as he reaches to take the suit. The style may not be one he's prefering, but… with the man's back turned, he steps back over to the dresser for something to wear under the suit. He pulls a pair of black boxers up under the towel, and then takes it off to dry the rest of the way so he can change, dropping the towel into the 'wash me' hamper. Course he doesn't even get far when he's asked about having sex with the man's niece. He sighs loudly, and runs a hand over his acid-touch shortened hair, even if he can't see it. "Be doing a lot more if I wasn't sick. Or trying to, at least… Already changed the future I went to, but I'm not sure if I changed it enough." Not denying the sex, but not really talking about it yet, either.

"Yeah, yeah. Future. We'll get to that in a second." When Peter is dressed, Jack turns back around and crosses his arms over his chest. "I figured you'd get her out of her pretty pink panties sooner or later, I just hoped it would be later. Much, way later." He frowns slightly, then shrugs. "We both know I can't kill you. Theoretically speaking, of course. However, if you were to fuck up this very fine opportunity, I could shove a pike up your ass, dip you in lead, and mount you on my living room wall for a few decades like my personal Han Solo. Theoretically." He leans forward slightly, breaking the bounds of personal space as he reaches up to adjust Peter's tie. It's an unconscious, primitive gesture that clearly states, 'I'M BIGGER AND MEANER THAN YOU ARE.'

Pants and shirt on, Peter's yet to pull on the jacket and has just finished tying the tie on — pink tie— when the man turns around and faces him. He stops straightening the buttons and lets his hands drop at the words. There's tension around his forehead, and finally he looks away, wincing, especially as the man invades his personal space (towering a foot taller than him) and straightens the tie like a noose. "I love her and she loves me. It's not something we planned to happen…" He trails off, then inhales slowly. "I don't want to mess this up, either. I already lost her once."

With a final, none too gentle jerk, he finishes his adjustment and smiles toothily. "Good. You keep that attitude, you and I will stay the best of friends." He takes a step away and clasps his hands together neatly at the small of his back. "Now, what were you saying about the future? Sounded positively interesting."

"The future's changed, and I'm not sure if it changed enough," Peter says, still down casting his eyes and moving to pull the jacket on. It does fit rather well. "This whole virus thing— if it happened, it was much more contained than this. I'm pretty sure the Level 5 escape never happened, too— nor Sylar getting captured by the Company. And… Nadia…" He trails off, shaking his head a little. "Most the changes are little things. But I'm hoping it's enough. The future wasn't all bad, but… there were a lot of bad things that happened." He takes a deep breath before he adds, "And I promised you— and everyone else there— that I would fix it. Build a future that we want to live in."

"Slow down, kiddo." Jack glances at Peter again from beneath hooded brows. "The future's big. It's going to be hard to build it all by yourself. Try and take all that on your plate, you'll go nuts and I'll have to replace you." All traces of the menace he was showing a moment ago are gone. Instead, he's smiling in a friendly, brotherly fashion. "Remember, you're just one guy."

"Everyone keeps reminding me of that," Peter says, looking up at the much taller man. Almost gives him a kink in his neck, but he does return the smile, at least with a hint of one. "I know I'm not in this alone," he says, taking in a slow breath and looking away again, checking around the room for anything else he needs to clean up before he goes… Shoes and socks are all he really needs to add to the ensemble, so he slips over to the closet, to fetch them. "But I still have to do what I can." Once he has the shoes and a pair of socks from the dresser, he moves to the bed to put them on. "So what's the suit for, anyway?"

"To distract you from my threatening to dip you in molten metal. Looks like it worked." Smirking, Jack reaches inside his own suit and draws out one of his injectors. Rather than punch a hole in his finery, he presses it to the muscle in the side of his neck and hits the plunger. A spasm runs through his body and his eyes clench tightly closed as the mixture of drugs floods his system. "Ggrrgh. Man, that's delicious." When he opens his eyes again, his pupils are fully dilated and his upper lip curls and quivers.

"You jackass," Peter says with a smile, though he continues putting his shoes on. "I can't believe you picked a pink tie for me, too." And he hadn't even complained for an instant, he just took it and put it on, didn't he? One would think he'd have a stronger resistance to that sort of thing… but no. The injection, though— that has gotten an odd look. He nods toward the injector, "What is that?"

With a start, Jack realizes that Peter is one of the people who doesn't yet know about his newest medical issue. Smiling easily, he palms the unit, tucks it back into his pocket, and lies through his teeth. "This? Something to boost my immune system. I knew you'd get all girly if one of you kids got me sick, so I did my homework."

There's a frown, but Peter does nod, shaking his head a little before he stands up. "You don't have to explain it to me if you don't want. I'm not your nurse, or your doctor— but if there's anything you need help with… you can let me know, okay?" Extending the offer, without outright demanding to know what kind of immune boosting drug he's on. "Thanks for the suit— though don't be surprised if I slip the tie into Nathan's room."

"Hah! Don't worry about me, man. Do me a favor, though? Take these to Nathan you when you go," Jack says, waving to the garment bag and the remainder of the suits. "And Peter? Tell him I said I'm sorry." That said, he waves again, this time a farewell, then he turns toward the door.

Nodding, Peter glances at the suits and agrees to take them, but when the man makes that last request, he frowns. "Sorry for what, Jack?" He's standing up, but he doesn't physically try to intercept, or chase after— nor does he try to stop him non-physically.

Jack pauses with his hand on the door. A moment later, he twists the knob and opens it. "Just sorry. I have to go. See you around, kid." He ducks into the hallway and strides away without looking back.

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