2007-09-10: None The Worse For Wearing Dresses


Nathan_icon.gif Jack_icon.gif Peter_icon.gif

Summary: Peter is back from the future and has a message for Jack, from Jack.

Date It Happened: September 10th, 2007

None The Worse For Wearing Dresses

Hyde Park - Sitting Room - Petrelli Mansion

"I don't know what dictionary you're reading," Jack growls. "But 'whorez' is a word. Trust me." Using the eraser of his pencil as a pointer, he taps each of his Scrabble tiles in turn. "Triple letter score, double word score. That 97 points, Nate Dogg."

The two men are seated on opposite sides of the coffee table with the game board and paraphanlia arrayed around them. Jack has given up on the blazer that's been his concession to professional on-the-job wear while in the employ of Nathan. It's draped across the back of a couch, along with his tie and a heavy concealed holster. With shoes kicked off, shirtsleeves rolled up, and bourbon in hand, he at least is taking time to relax. With Trina out of the hospital and resting comfortably at home, he's earned it.

Seated on the edge of the opposite armchair, Nathan studies the Scrabble board. Between the usuals like 'trident', 'chair' and 'system', there is— well. Jack words. Most adult game of Scrabble Nathan's ever played, that's for damn sure. Luckily, it's late enough that kids won't be wandering in and gaining a lesson in Uncle Jackisms before they're old enough for Heidi not to kill both men. Nathan sips from his own glass of bourbon.

"Fine, 'whorez'," he allows, and peers at his own word tiles. "I'm still twenty something points ahead." Nathan considers, then sets out some tiles. It spells 'proticol'. Well, what? He couldn't score another 'o' and Jack won't know the difference. He, too, has abandoned his jacket, as well as his tie, down to a button down and slacks (and argyle patterned socks) as he counts up his earned points, drink in hand.

In the midst of their scrabble playing, Peter wanders into the sitting room with a knock on the door frame before he steps inside. Since he got back, he hasn't seen Jack— and he could swear he recognized the man's voice as he walked by on his way out again. This is the third time he's stopped into the house tonight, and this time it wasn't just for borrowing the car from one of the drivers (which he's done a few nights since he got back) and stealing a bag from the wrapping supplies for a present— instead it was for something a little smaller. He'd left smething over here, and he didn't know exactly where. Which means he couldn't just Jack it.

"Jack? Nathan?" he asks, politely looking inside and not quite entering just yet. They're playing a game! And… he's looking at Jack rather expectantly— like someone he hasn't seen in a very long time… because he hasn't. And the last glimpses he got of the man weren't exactly… fun.

Jack grooooans. The addition of 'proticol' puts him substantially behind again. He grimaces distastefully and is in the process of digging out another handful of tiles when Peter makes his appearance. There's an expression on his face that's not quite a smile and not quite a frown. Neither trustful or suspicious, he seems curious more than anything else. A few seconds pass as Jack studies Peter intently. Then he nods once, briskly, but doesn't stand. "Well. You seem none the worse for wear."

Nathan looks up from his study of his Scrabble tiles when Peter's voice enters the room, for a moment surprised to see his younger brother, then— well stoic, but if it was anyone else, he might go ahead and look sheepish that he's playing Scrabble. Oh, well, board games happen in this house. He flickers a smirk at Jack's comment, but doesn't go ahead and agree, just address Peter with, "What're you doing here?" followed by a sort of 'come in' gesture, gaze returning to the letters lined up in front of him.

"I've been worse— it's not that bad here," Peter says with a small smile, moving a little further inside when he's told he can. It's hesitant, but at the same time… he's grateful. For reasons he can't really express right now. Whatever it is, he seems happy to see them, almost oddly excited. "I left something over here the last time I stayed," he explains, then glances down towards the game. There's a long pause, as he raises his eyebrows at some of the word choices, but then he finds a seat nearby. "I haven't seen you since I got back— everything okay? Has Trina woken up yet?" He vaguely remembers her saying she was in a coma for two months— and two months should be almost up, if not already…

Now Jack's face does light up. Beaming, he tosses the bag of Scrabble chips aside carelessly. "Yessir, she woke up a couple of days ago. She's at home resting right now. Meds keep her out for about ten hours at a time, so I figured I'd come over and kill some time. Your poofter brother and his rich boy education are killing me, though." He leans back in his chair, kicks both legs up, and plops them down in the middle of the Scrabble board, effectively ruining any chance of finishing the game. "Oops. How clumsy of me. Guess we'll have to call it a draw."

When the tiles go skittering, Nathan rolls his eyes, and leans back into his armchair leisurely. "If by 'draw' you refer to my blatantly winning," he says dryly. "It's not my fault that cursewords don't really have a lot of variety." Well that's not strictly true - it's amazing the amount that Jack can come up with, really - just they don't have a lot in the ways of x's and j's and such. Meanwhile, Peter gets an odd look from Nathan, as if his happy attitude has been detected and deemed puzzling.

"I'm glad to hear that— I know I didn't really get to meet her, but I know she means a lot to you. I have it on pretty good authority that— well— you might want to start saving up for a ring soon." Peter seems to be smiling a little too much. He's not playing matchmaker, he's just trying to drop a hint without outright saying it— except he's not very good at just hinting. "You could talk him into something else. The boys have a Battleship game. And there's always Monopoly," he adds, leaning back into his own chair with a hint of a smile. Scrabble is actually, most likely, the adultest game in the house that doesn't include taking off clothes— which they're really in the wrong company to suggest that kind of game.

There's a moment where Jack looks baffled. Dumbstruck. When the moment passes, he does look suspicious. His muscles tense and he flops his legs off the table and swivels around to face Peter. Unflinchingly, he meets the Petrelli boy's eyes. "You wouldn't be rooting around in my head, would you?" Despite his outwardly calm demeanor, his muscles are tensing, and his eyes and slowly opening until the whites become visible. Not signs of anger, but rare hints of fear.

From Peter, to Jack, then back to Peter, Nathan's baffled, narrowed gaze switches between the two men. Ring? Well then. "He wouldn't, Jack," Nathan cuts in - well, he trusts that Peter wouldn't randomly telepath his way into people's heads, or he and Nathan will be having words on this issue.

There's raised eyebrows almost as soon as the reaction registers with Peter. Part of him expected it to sound like a tease— but this is something else entirely. When Nathan defends him, he looks over and is grateful, because it also helps him speak up, "No— I— that isn't— I didn't read your mind— either now or— two years from now…" There's a pause. Maybe being vague was a bad idea. He moves to sit up, leaning forward a little— flinching. "I spent most of my time with you in the future. You and Trina, and a bunch of the other people you're already close to." It's the truth, and less deceptive than before. "Some people gave personal messages— that was yours. To marry Trina before everything got messed up. Not that we're going to let it get messed up, but…" At least this time he won't have to get married in a dress?

Jack looks away from both men and clears his throat. The delicate cough into his fist is affected, buying time. When he turns back he's all smiles again, but there's still a hint of self-conscious discomfort. "Sorry, kiddo," he mumbles to Peter. "Knee-jerk reflex. No harm no foul, right?" He hauls himself to his feet and gives Peter a friendly, brotherly cuff on the shoulder. "I appreciate you passing the message to me, and I'm glad I could keep you company while you were on your little jaunt. And kid?" Jack's smile takes on a more familiar, crooked cast. "It's good to have you back."

Messages from the future. Honestly, it— didn't even really occur to Nathan that Peter would so actively interact with their future counterparts. Enough that there'd be messages. He has to wonder if there was anything— well he was or would be President so could they even— and he died apparently, and— no. Never mind all that. Nathan knows himself well enough to know that he likely wouldn't have anyway, even given the chance. What else is there to say other than 'don't fuck up this time', to which he'd likely respond with 'gee, thanks'? Peter, surely, would have told him by now besides. These thoughts, Nathan keeps to himself, swallowing a sip of bourbon as his brother and friend interact, simply listening.

"It's— it's okay," Peter says, still looking a little wary. Sure, telepathy happens at times, but even when he wants to, it almost never works, and when it does it seems to be unintentional more than not… "It's good to be back," he adds, hinting towards a smile. "Just do me one favor… get a ring that's better than a lollipop— and don't make me wear a dress next time." No, he's not explaining. Never, ever, ever. "And Trina specifically asked to know nothing about any of this— so… it's kind of a shame. I really liked her." And now he has to try to pretend all that bonding never happened. He stands up, "Anyone feel like a game of cards?"

Jack's face screws up into a curious, puckered expression that's not very visually appealing. "That sounds like Trina, but there's no reason you two can't still be chums. I'd like it if she met more of you. As for cards? I love games I can cheat at. Pull up a seat, my little manboy, and prepare to empty your wallet." As he playfully prods at Peter, he pours a healthy measure of bourbon into a third glass a slides it over. A snap of his fingers later, Jack is holding a deck of cards that are fairly worn and almost certainly stacked in his favor. "Wot say, Nate?"

Dress? Nathan just squints at Peter now. And. And he dismisses it, finishing off his glass and reaching for a refill. "Sounds like you had fun," is all he says, before shrugging at Jack. "Sure, hit me. I still need to win back sixty odd bucks from you." Because you know, he really needs the money? It's just the principle of the thing. "You might want to ask Cass about a raise after this, Pete, Jack cheats." Everyone cheats.

There's a grin as his older brother catches the dress thing. "For the record? He was in a dress too," Peter mentions, pointing towards Jack. "So was Lachlan, which was the most horrible sight ever, let me tell you…" YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW. Anyway… moving to grab a deck of cards, and a paper cup, he pulls out his wallet and returns over to lose his money. "I look forward to getting to know her again," he adds, about Trina.

Jack fixes Peter with a blinky, bleary-eyed stare. "I. Dress. What? Fuck, kid. Shut up and ante up, willya? We have to get drunk immediately."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License