2007-08-28: Peter Petrelli Is A Lezbeen


Jack_icon.gif Nathan_icon.gif

Summary: Or at least partially a woman. Jack and Nathan have a manly heart to heart. There is steak and beer.

Date It Happened: August 28th, 2007

Peter Petrelli Is A Lezbeen

Downtown, NYC - Oldcastle Pub and Restaurant

Yesterday Jack ate falafel for the first time in as many months. He doesn't even know what a falafel is. Just that it's semi-tasty and sounds gay. Needless to say, he's exhausted the delivery and take out possibilities in the immediate vicinity of the hospital where Trina is lying comatose. The time has come to have a steak and a pint in a dimly lit little pisser of a pub. Unfortunately, Oldcastle does not fit that description. Jack's eyes shift from pennant to flag to beer stein, all proudly emblazoned with some sort of preposterously over-Irish and cutesy phrases. So. Much. Green. A groan leaks out from between his clenched teeth. "Flllnnngh. If the bastard who built this is Irish, then I'm a camelfucker." He pauses to glare at a tourist in a 'Kiss me, I'm Irish!' t-shirt.

"What a fag. Where the hell is my steak? It better be burned on the outside and bloody on the inside."

He and Nathan are seated at a table for two in the (comparatively) quietest corner of the establishment. As he has for some time, he appears pale and thin from meals spaced too far apart and too little time in the sun. This is made more pronounced by his dark, casual jacket and slacks.

Nathan rolls his eyes ceilingwards as he takes a sip of the beer filled from the pitcher between them. It's a little bit passed dinner, and he's already had a reasonably early one with Heidi, the boys, and— well, and Elena, their housemate for the past couple of weeks. With a casual jacket thrown over his nicer button down, he blends in reasonably well - no drunken 'MAN I'LL VOTE F'YOU IF Y'BUY ME A BEER' just yet. "They serve Guinness," Nathan points out as he sets down his glass, folding his arms on the table. "So you can quit whining, it was the best I could think of on short notice. Besides, you're a camelfucker anyway," he adds with a twist of a smirk as he refills Jack's glass. "I'm just glad to get out of the damn house."

The verbal jab earns Nathan little more than a brief roll of Jack's eyes. He takes up the pitcher to fill his glass for the third time, speaking as he pours. "Bah. YOU fag. If I never see another four leafed clover it'll still be too soon." When he's properly refilled he sets the pitches aside and takes a frothy gulp. "Ahhhh. Mm," he smacks. "So wot's wrong with your place, then? Trouble in paradise now that there's two ladies inna house? I'd have thought that'd be right up your alley."

"You'd think, right," Nathan states, dryly, absently turning the glass against the table. "It's peaceful in paradise, actually." Apart from certain lawn gnomes getting nailed via scooters, but we won't get into that. Jack would probably side with the culprit, anyway. "But at the end of the day, I'm outnumbered. I'm sure Heidi's thrilled about this."

When Jack's steak arrives, it's a beautiful thing. Charred to within an inch of existance on the outside, bloody as a knife wound on the inside, it's everything a manly man could ever want from a piece of meat. "Woohoohoo," Jack chortles as he accepts his plate from the server. "Wot? Ahhh. Gangin' up on you? I thought Elena and Peter were…" He splits the first two fingers of both hands into V shapes, making two pairs of legs, then wedges together the imaginary 'crotches' in the international sign for lesians. "…lezbeens?"

Squint. "Nnno. Peter is in the future." Nathan doesn't look too happy with this, and he makes a vague gesture that is somehow meant to represent time travel. Kind of like a Whoosh! gesture but snakier. Steak takes a while, and there's been plenty to drink during this waiting period, after all. His hand returns to his face to rub the bridge of his nose tiredly, before sipping more beer. "You're right, though. That's the thing. Heidi and Elena are friends, yes, but if I even mention Peter, it's like I'm approaching a subject too complex to comprehend. It's not my fault if they choose to have some kind of…" A pause as he tries to figure out how to describe it, and falls back on Jack's eloquant summary. "…bizarre lesbian relationship." Point. "And don't call my brother a lesbian."

"Whut?" Jack blinks uncomprehendingly and stares at Nathan. "Future?" He has some experience with time travelers, but not enough that his default assumption is that missing folk have taken jaunts into the future. "Lemme see if I understand this. Peter is in the future, Elena is in your house, and you're in denial about your brother being a girl? Man. Tough break." He tsk tsks under his breath and stabs into his steak, sawing off a too-large bite and stuffing it into his mouth with fast, crisp motions. Hungry.

"Well," Nathan says, looking a little disgruntled, but conceding Jack the following point: "He is a bit of a girl. But I can say that because I know him. Sit, stay, getting a whiskey." Beer, not good enough. He ambles bar-wards and returns not a minute later with a drink - one for Jack, too, because that's just how they roll. "The future," he confirms, once settled back into his chair. "Apparently he's trying to fix it, but it's been about a month since anyone last saw him. Elena's… trying to figure it out. I don't know."

Suprised by this revelation, Jack hastily washes down a mouthful of meat with a mouthful of mash whiskey so he can respond coherently. "Jesus! A month? Man…" Stunned, he blinks in a perplexed fashion and his shoulders slump. "Seriously? He's been missing and Trina's been in a coma for a month?" Where he once stumbled over the word 'coma,' now it's become a regular part of his verbal array. "Crap. Is everbody /else/ okay?"

"As far as I know," Nathan says, a little flatly - he's been worrying since Cass told him and is a little over the whole worrying thing by now, patience gone and impatience taking on a sort of simmering variety of pissed offness. He takes a sparing sip of whiskey, then adds, super casually, "But when Peter does come back, I'm going to kill him. Then wait for him to regenerate and kill him again. But no, everyone else is okay, last I checked."

Jack is unabashedly relieved to hear that at the very least, nobody else has gone missing and/or died while he's been closeted away in Trina's hospital room. He breathes in deeply, puffs out a bit of air, and fixes Nathan with an intent look. "Well. Now that I'm up to speed, y'mind if I help? I've heard about him comin' back to life, but I could stand to see it for m'self."

"Sure," Nathan says, with a shrug. "I ran him over with a car once, accidentally, maybe we can see if he comes back from getting pushed off the roof." Someone passing by glances at them with a puzzled expression, and Nathan merely smiles and says, "Hi, how're you doing?" before they're moving on. "Kid's working hard enough to save this reality, don't know what business he has trying to save a future that hasn't even happened yet."

"I know, right?" Jack agrees. "I've never seen a kid run himself that ragged over things that might not even happen. He needs to kick back and relax. Uh. When he gets back, I guess." He shrugs and slices off another bite of steak. "Man, you ever feel like a second-string athlete when people like him or Hiro are around? I mean, we can do stuff. But they can do stuff."

"Jack," Nathan says, with a chuckle, semi-facepalming. "I fly. That's barely even a blip on the radar and it's not how I'm planning to save the world any time soon. It's all well a good to be swiss army knife boy or a time traveler who doesn't give a damn or something, you know," he gestures towards Jack, "subtle like you. If I ever get to do what I can do, it's because I'm in situations I shouldn't have been in the first place." No, not the most optimistic man when it comes to cool superpowers, but that's to be expected. He slumps a little, picks up his whiskey and glances at it unhappily. "But if he ends up saving the world, then… I guess I'll just stick to maiming rather than outright killing."

"Maiming… what?" Politely confused, Jack furrows his brow thoughtfully and peers over at Nathan. "You know me, I'm always up for a good maim." He coughs into his fist. "Are you talkin' about your brother? Really, I just wanna strangle him. A little strangle. He's good for it, right?" Right. Jack crams his bite of MEAT into his mouth and omnoms happily.

"Yes, still talking about Peter," Nathan mutters, and dismisses the subject with a wave of his whiskey glass, though the subject still weighs on his mind. He knows when to shut up about it before people tell him to do so, however, so he inclines his head to Jack. "How's Trina doing?"

Jack is caught slightly off guard by the shift in topics, so he takes his time swallowing his mouthful. "Erm. She's… resting," he replies wanly. "I sit by her all the time, still. You know I read her all three Lord Of The Ringies Thing books? I can thee an' thou with the best of 'em now." For Jack to read a single book in a monumental undertaking. For him to read a trilogy aloud is a feat that defies plausibility. He seems serious, though.

Nathan pauses mid-whiskey sip, then sets it down, blinking at Jack. "You read all of the Lord of the Rings to her?" he repeats. "Was… were these like, readers digest versions or uh," there's a twitch of a smile to indicate that he's joking, "the picture book version?" Then he steals Jack's fork swiftly and stabs the last bit of steak for his own taking. Maybe just to divert from bringing up such a serious topic to distract from his own, which isn't totally fair.

"Nah, the real ones." The joke sails right over Jack's head. He's so caught up in his pouty moment that he doesn't even notice Nathan stealing the last of his dinner. Thoroughly glum, he drains the last of his whiskey and immediately moves back to his pint. After several sips he sighs raspily. "Man, I'm so in love with that girl. If you tell anybody I'll deny it and call you a fag, though."

"You'll call me a fag, will you? That'll make a huge difference from the norm," Nathan says, dryly, once the slice of steak is swallowed and the fork is set back down onto Jack's plate. "You should be in love with this girl. You're starving yourself like I did when Heidi was in hospital." See? He knows the signs. "And when she wakes up, you should tell her so."

Now that the fork has been replaced, Jack finally figures out that he's been steakjacked. He glares at Nathan for a moment, but his heart really isn't in it. In the end he smiles crookedly. "I have," he admits. "And it was incredible. Go ahead. Call me a pussy, I dare you." More glare. "Anyway, that's how I know she's gonna be okay. She's not allowed to die yet, she just found out I have squashy feelings for her."

The crooked smile is returned, in a milder version of it, almost sympathetic. "When Peter gets back, we should see if he can do something for Trina. And also, good for you," Nathan says, with seeming genuineness, before polishing off his whiskey. Swallow. Grin. "Pussy." Then he withdraws his legs slightly to avoid shinkicks, because that is exactly what he would do in this scenario.

BAM. The toe of Jack's boot thumps against the bench seat between Nathan's knees, narrowly avoiding contacting shins, joints, and ect. Rather than try again, he rolls his eyes and snorts. "OOOH. SO SORRY I LIKE BOOBS. Not all of us enjoy being penised. Penis enjoyer."


"Try married for about a decade, Derex," Nathan says, leaning back into his chair and lifting his glass in mock cheers. "To women. May they stop being in comas and talking about confusing things when they get together." Best toast ever.

"Oi!" Grinning, Jack hoists his glass as well. "Here's to your wife. May she continue to sunbathe next to the pool in that little blue number."

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