[Closed RP: Sylar and Peter] Five Days Later

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

((OOC: Any and all details about Sylar have been cleared with the mun first!))

For someone who had always said to have 'his head stuck in the clouds too often for his own good', Peter thought his current plan was going rather well.

Then again, 'well' was entirely subjective. Yes, Sylar hadn't been able to terrorize anybody for the last five days. But, in said five days, Peter had been stuck in the same room with only Sylar for company. For the first few days, he'd tried to keep a mental watch on Sylar's thoughts to see if he was planning escape, but the things he kept hearing were enough to convince him never to use telepathy again. Especially what he'd heard on the first day.

Five days. Five days of sitting on cold stone, watching over a serial killer that would do anything to escape. And Sylar had certainly tried - Peter would still wear the bruises from those attempts if he didn't heal so fast. Five days of having to use the Voice on Sylar to make him eat and not try to escape. Needless to say, conversation had been few and far between, for which Peter was grateful. He was doing this to keep people safe, not to make small talk. Five days of trying not to fall asleep so that he could monitor how much sedative was being pumped into Sylar's veins.

And on the fifth day, it wasn't working so well.

Sitting up against the door, Peter struggled to keep his eyes open. He couldn't recall how much sleep he'd gotten, but seeing that he had been keeping a 24/7 watch, he didn't think it was very much. Sometimes, he thought he could hear Sylar talking, but when he looked back up, it was clear he hadn't been. Other times he could swear he heard Nathan's voice outside the door, but he hadn't talked to Nathan since his sorting.

Peter had to wonder if he was going insane, through a combination of sleep-deprivation and being in the company of goddamn Sylar for five days. It was enough to drive anybody up the wall.

Comments

[soopernathan.livejournal.com]

Actually, Nathan had been going more for the whole drunken thing - look at him, he could barely keep a freaking straight line unless Nathan steered him around like a five-year-old that needed to be dragged out of the playroom in McDonald's. Which Nathan had definitely had to do with Peter before, so don't laugh - but as it was, Peter probably wouldn't have listened to any reason he had to offer anyway.

Good God, the second he let go, the kid smashed into the wall. Okay, so they hadn't quite worked up from training wheels to the regular big boy bike yet.

"Shut up, Peter, Christ, I swear, I'm gonna kick your ass," Nathan automatically griped under his breath, grabbing at Peter's shoulder again and smushing the younger Petrelli against him in an effort to keep the poor guy on his own two feet. "Don't think you're up for the whole walking straight and breathing at the same time thing yet." His fingers grabbed at the material of Peter's t-shirt, at his shoulder, a bit protectively, and frowned. "Come on, we're gonna find..." Where WAS Peter's room? Nathan didn't even know where HIS room was right now. "A room."

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

"You always win when you try to kick my ass," Peter frowned, dispirited, and then took a moment to wonder if Nathan would actually try any time soon. Probably not, but if he did try, Peter really wouldn't put up much of a fight. He grinned suddenly, and laughed slightly. "Even with my super strength you'd still win. Big Brother rule."

What was he talking about? Peter wasn't entirely sure, but there were words coming out of his mouth. He never stopped and thought before he said most things, but this was just more random than normal. Hopefully he didn't fall over anytime soon; if he did, he'd go to sleep on the nearest horizontal surface.

Trapped against Nathan's side, Peter couldn't be bothered making a second escape attempt. They were going to find a room, not his room? Oh. Peter hung his head, blowing uselessly at the hair in front of his face. "How's Heidi and the kids?" Speaking of completely random topics. But Peter wanted to know that they were alright, at least. "Guess I'll be sending Christmas presents at international rates, now."

[soopernathan.livejournal.com]

Not that Nathan would actually kick Peter's ass unless he absolutely had to. Jeez, the last time they had got into any semblance of a fight, it had just been Peter punching Nathan, anyway. ...Twice. So who knew who could kick whose ass anymore? Especially... yes, with the super-strength. Nathan wasn't going to think about any of the implications that went with that, because the outcome didn't look too pretty on Nathan's part.

"Damn straight I'd still win," he mumbled nonetheless, smirking a bit. Big Brother rule was right. Nathan would totally kick ass. Skepticism? Never! Besides, Peter sounded pretty much delirious right now, worrisome enough to make Nathan not particularly care about who could take who in a fight, if it came down to it.

Well... whichever freaking room. Nathan didn't exactly know where the hell he was going here. It was going to be a miracle if he could even remember his way out of these dungeons, never mind where Peter's room was, considering Nathan had never visited, mind, making it a bit difficult to remember the location of the thing. "They... I don't know," Nathan admitted as he started down another hallway, frowning a bit. His voice had gotten a bit strained in light of the conversation, and his rubbed at his forehead. "I haven't spoken to them since I came here."

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

Huh, Nathan didn't sound too happy about answering that question. Peter didn't really blame him; it had to suck, trying to take care of your little brother that apparently had a death-wish, and spend time with family, too. He couldn't relate to the whole wife-and-kids thing, but he missed them as well - he liked being an Uncle.

So he just made a quiet sound of agreement, trying to keep an eye out for a familiar door. Not that he'd actually been in his room all that much - maybe for an hour or so, before he promptly devoted the rest of his time to capturing Sylar. But... trust Nathan to lead them down the right hallway.

Veering sharply and trying to take Nathan with him, Peter slapped a hand against a door they nearly passed. "I think this is it," he grinned crookedly, as if he expected Nathan to be proud of finding the right door as he fumbled with the doorknob. Stupid... thing wasn't goddamn working.

[soopernathan.livejournal.com]

An uncle three times over, yeah. Claire was... kind of another person Nathan missed, not that he'd admit it out loud. Shit, being in Scotland even made him miss his mother. And anybody who knew Angela Petrelli knew that it took quite a bit to miss her. He was trying not to think about Heidi or Simon or Monty, but, damn, it was hard. Especially if, well, Peter purposefully brought them up in the middle of a conversation.

Peter was nearly knocking him off-kilter, then, over sideways, and Nathan went reeling a couple of steps, an odd sort of frustrated grunt sounding in his throat. This is what Peter would be like if he was wasted, wouldn't it? Or... he'd just be incredibly emo. Whatever the case, this was... mildly horrifying. And he had to resist the urge to slap a palm to his face.

"Ah, no, Pete. That's the bathroom," Nathan replied curtly, tapping a finger against the 'WOMEN'S' sign tacked just by Peter's line of sight. "Close, though, definitely." It had to be around here. Somewhere. "I think it's more down the end of the hall. So. Stop breaking into the girl's bathroom, yeah?"

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

...Oh. That giant sign might have been a clue.

"Oops," Peter snickered under his breath, trying to keep his eyelids open. It was getting to the point where his brain was trying to equate 'not moving = a great chance to sleep', so Peter continued trudging along, leaning on Nathan more and more heavily.

Well, at least one of them knew where they were going, because Peter sure didn't. And Nathan sounded like he at least had some clue - Nathan was always right (except for the few times that he wasn't), so Peter thought it was fairly safe to trust in his navigational skills.

"I think my brain is disintegrating," he mumbled. Not the best choice of words for trying to communicate that he was so tired that his brain was going haywire, but Nathan would understand. ...At least he couldn't think about Sylar right now, or anything meaningful like his greater purpose in the world.

[soopernathan.livejournal.com]

Not that Peter was exactly the biggest of guys ever, obviously. Kind of scrawny, and physically kind of a pushover, but a hundred and something pounds of Peter Petrelli were still going to slow Nathan down a little. His arm still around Peter's shoulders, he grabbed at the front of his brother's shirt with his free hand, grunting a bit in light of the moment. Great.

"All right, we're almost there, jeez," he muttered, and half-glanced to Peter at his words. With the kind of expression that showed just how much he agreed with Peter right now. Disintegrating brains. "Oh, yeah?" he prompted right back, almost as if he were talking to a nine-year-old spouting off crazy, dreamed-up plans.

"Brain disintegrating, huh? Y... why's that?" he added vaguely, only half paying attention as his eyes scanned the... There. He'd never been happier to see a door. This had to be it. Jiggling open the knob, Nathan sighed at the sight of the Slytherin common room. Right. Awesome.

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

Not answering right away, Peter was more focused on looking around the Slytherin common room and trying to remember exactly where his room was. He thought he had a vague idea, so he began trying to lean on Nathan and act as a slightly-weaving rudder.

Right, and then left, and Peter suddenly wondered if he was getting blood all over Nathan's clean shirt. There'd been no protests yet, so maybe Nathan didn't mind so much.

"Yeah. Bits of my brain falling to... bits," Peter continued, not even really aware of what he was saying. "Too tired. And Sylar's thoughts keep... rattling around. Shouldn't have listened."

[soopernathan.livejournal.com]

What the... hell?

Nathan settled Peter onto one of the leather sofas, fixing him with the strangest look from all of forever. Bits of brains? Falling... what? He was just babbling on, like, he wasn't even aware of what he was talking about. "Did you get a few screws knocked loose when you got that pole through your head or something, Pete? Jeez," he muttered, clapping Peter once on the shoulder and straightening.

He couldn't help but scratch at his forehead and keep on looking at Peter with that strange sort of questioning look. Almost as if by reading his mind, a house elf - he was never going to get used to those things - ran in with... he was pretty sure it was some kind of cola, but whatever. "Sylar's thoughts, what... what are you talking about? What did Sylar think?"

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

Sinking back into the leather couch felt like heaven, considering Peter had spent the last five days (or more? he wasn't sure anymore) standing or sitting on the floor. His ass had to be permanently flat by now. Leaning back against the cushions, Peter closed his eyes and smiled stupidly. The only thing that could possibly feel better than this was... well, he couldn't think of anything right now.

"Thoughts," he repeated, as if it were perfectly obvious. Why didn't Nathan understand him the first time round? "'Bout his mother, and... he flipped out, and... he thought about the people he... killed... and..."

Peter promptly tipped over and landed face-first on the couch cushions, already asleep. The dangers of sitting down when sleep deprived.

[soopernathan.livejournal.com]

Nathan had settled onto the arm of the couch, rubbing at the back of his head, back faced to Peter as the guy started in on his babbling again. Christ, he was barely even making actual conscious thoughts anymore - he was just... talking. Random words that, like, didn't even go together in any semblance of a sentence.

"Thoughts? ...About his mother?" Nathan repeated, a bit stupidly, with the kind of outrage that made him sound skeptical that Sylar would even have a mother. He was probably born in a petri dish. In a lab. Or something. "Why? What kind of...?"

Did he just...

Nathan turned around, looking at Peter's face smashed into the cushions, eyebrows jumping up a little. "Peter." He grabbed at Peter's shoulder, shaking it a little. "Peter?" Great. ...At least he was sleeping. "Right. You just... stay there. Good idea."