Closed RP: A Nice, Mature, Sociable Dinner Party. ...Right?

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

((Here comes Sockfest 07. May someone save our souls, and the kittens.))

There were a lot of things that could go horrifyingly, terribly wrong with this evening. What had started out as an idea of having a few friends around for dinner had turned into a party when Peter had decided to just invite a few more people. The latter of which might cause things to go a bit pear-shaped due to Peter's meddling.

Rachel knew that they were having a dinner party, and that Peter had invited his brother, and two of her friends. What she didn't know was that Peter had also invited Dean (and Sam, it turned out) Winchester after Rachel mentioned they had a bit of a history. Said current point in history was apparently full of drama, but Peter felt that they might be able to sort out a few of their problems over a nice dinner. He hoped.

It had been planned as a formal affair - and Peter didn't think he looked too bad, maybe a little less clean-shaven than he would have done for this kind of a thing half a year ago, but that was okay. Hopefully Nathan didn't kick his ass for looking like a slob.

He'd spent most of today running around contemplating cooking, but never actually doing it for fear that he wouldn't be able to cook the right amount. Ordering food from house elves it would have to be. And during this running around not cooking, Peter had spent an absurd amount of time on making sure the dinner table just off the kitchen looked okay.

Peter might have gone a bit overboard.

There were really expensive, fancy plates. Wine glasses that had never been used before. Pitchers of ice water, champagne coolers with bottles of wine, and something that Peter had no idea what it was even used for. It just... looked good.

Tugging anxiously on his tie, Peter went to check his watch - still not there, goddamn Sylar - and absently started walking loops around the table. How long was it until everybody showed up? Ten minutes?

Was Rachel ever going to get ready? Women.

Comments

[racheltherunner.livejournal.com]

Okay, so I wasn't exactly the 'dinner party' type. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd been to one. And that had certainly not been formal in any sense. So I was feeling more than a little nervous as I finished getting ready.

I'd bought a new dress (http://www.yandy.com/Images/Products/8271-Black.jpg) for the occasion. The silk felt like a whisper next to my skin. It'd cost more than anything else in my wardrobe, but it was worth it. My boots I'd put aside - Peter had made some kind of distraught face when I mentioned wearing them - in favor of a pair of heels (http://www.super-sexy-high-heels.com/images/Hollywood-web/Monroe_5.jpg). Pulling my hair all up in a twist, I dabbed on some perfume (totally not anything Ivy had bought me - this was more of a deep, sensual scent I'd picked up the last time I'd been in London) and decided I was as ready as I could be.

Walking out into the dining room, I stopped and stared a little at Peter. Wow. Just...yeah. Wow. "You look nice," I smiled, my heart doing a little flip-flop thing. More than nice. Suddenly I wished that no one else was coming. And, you know, that Peter didn't see me as someone he just sort of put up with due to the whims of a piece of headgear.

The table was set with things that cost more than I made in a year, and I let my finger trace the edge of a plate in appreciation. "And it looks fantastic out here, Peter." Ivy was going to love this.

Getting nervous again, I went to stand buy him. God, his brother was coming. And I hadn't been in the same room as Ivy since... Well, since I'd come on to her and she'd rejected me pretty soundly. Good times, there. Absently adjusting Peter's tie to give my fingers something to do, I gave him a slightly terrified smile. Demons and trolls and dark magic witches? Bring them on. Dinner party? Knee-knocking fear.

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

...Oh god, Rachel had lost half of her dress. Seriously. Where had the rest gone? It ended far too high up the leg to be a complete dress. But at least she hadn't worn the boots. The heels were nice. And Rachel did look nice. Just... not exactly the kind of formal Peter was used to.

"Don't flatter," he smiled crookedly, raising an eyebrow and looking down at his tie as she fixed it. It didn't need adjusting, Rachel was clearly just nervous about the whole thing. "And you look great, so," Peter kissed Rachel on the cheek, "Stop worrying."

[soopernathan.livejournal.com]

Whatever he'd been smoking when he'd gotten a pink tie (http://galeria.heroes-spain.com/displayimage.php?album=49&pos=0) for tonight.

Where had this even come from? Jesus, he didn't know. He didn't keep track of ties. Certainly not ties that weren't his, that he had to find in hiding because his little brother had randomly decided to up and have an impromptu dinner party. For his new wife, what the hell. And Nathan thought Peter and all his crap about saving the world was bad. Random marriages might have even trumped that. Seriously, Peter, this was Scotland. Not Vegas. No marrying random hot women, just because they happen to be a little sloshed.

Whatever. At any rate, Nathan had brought wine (http://www.malmquistdesign.com/images/packaging/4_EnricosWine.jpg). Because, yes, the polite thing to do. And maybe so people would forget about the pink tie. Or, alternatively, for him to forget the pink tie. He'd learned something from Petrelli dinner parties, at any rate, other than useless information about coffee spoons going up by the dessert forks and water glasses and all that crap.

Damn, this looked pretty good, actually. Peter? Did a good job on organizing a dinner party? Of course, they hadn't even gotten to the food or the company yet, but, hey. The kid was in a suit. Willingly. Without having to be threatened into it otherwise. ...Not that he was paying any attention to Peter's suit, or dishes, once his eyes had snagged onto Rachel. Had she heard of a hemline? He wasn't complaining!

...Wait, was this Peter's wife? Peter's wife? Goddamn, that lucky little shit. How the hell did he manage that? She was... hot. And way out of his brother's league. "You must be Rachel?" he asked slowly, as if he didn't quite believe the site in front of him, bottle of wine nudged vaguely into the direction of Peter's hands without his eyes leaving Rachel. HER eyes. Um. Not lower, he swore.

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

Peter certainly didn't miss the direction that Nathan's eyes were heading. He sighed mentally, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Couldn't Nathan control himself? He was married, he was supposed to be able to not look at women and their far-too-short skirt-lines.

But that didn't really matter, because it was Nathan, and Peter was always pleased to see him whatever was happening. (Even if they were wearing purple and pink ties.) So he took the wine bottle when it was shoved at him, but wasted no time in practically bounding forward and wrapping his arms around Nathan.

The guy was threatening to leave soon, he was allowed to be excited to see him.

[racheltherunner.livejournal.com]

My grin widened at the greeting the brothers had, and when Peter let go of Nathan enough to stand by his side, I gave the older man a crooked, shy smile and held out my hand. Yeah, I probably wasn't going to hug, even if Nathan was my fake brother-in-law. "Um, yes. And I take it you're Nathan? Nice to meet you."

Tucking a stray curl behind my ear, my eyes went to Peter and then back up to Nathan. Wow. Petrelli men had some damn fine genes. "Peter's told me a lot about you. I'm glad you could come."

See! I could do small talk!

[not-a-bug.livejournal.com]

Okay, there had to be one thing that was made rather obvious in light of recent discoveries. Wizard-made pixie clothes sucked.

It was the most eloquent way Jenks could gather to word it. It was just... Gah. Apparently humans had some great dislike for pixies? Jenks had no idea. It was no polyester, at least - no dead cow-stench and itchy fabric or elephant skin or whatever the crap that stuff was scratching against his skin (which was very sensitive when it came to clothing, shut up) (hey, you got used to pixie clothing, you were spoiled; nothing else in the world was made that fantastically).

But the shirt (http://images.eluxury.com/assets_server/product/11458447/p11458447_ph_althero_Antique_White.jpg) was still cotton. Which wasn't silk. Which wasn't made by Matalina, and, mother of Tink, he didn't know if he could miss home any more. And then jackets - who wore jackets anyway? Jeez - and this one (http://images.eluxury.com/assets_server/product/11384783/p11384783_ph_hero.jpg) had a viscose lining which was... better? Organic! Still. More cotton. Consequentially, Jenks was buzzing into the room, a bit irritatedly. Looking nice, actually, but, you know. Irritated.

"Allo, allo," he greeted vaguely, waving his arms around and perching on Rachel's shoulder. God, redwood, closest thing to home that he could freaking get, but thank you. "It's cotton, Rache. Cotton."

[racheltherunner.livejournal.com]

Oh, thank the Turn. Jenks. Never had I been more relieved to see a pixie. "Hey," I smiled, my grin cracking harder at his bitching. "Dear Lord, how will you ever survive?" Teasing him, I sank gratefully down into a chair, leaving Peter to do the host thing for a minute.

"You should have gotten silk." Like my dress. Which rocked.

"Um...you haven't seen Ivy yet, have you?" Just a little nervous, here, over what she'd say. Since I hadn't talked to her at all. Plus, you know. Married. I sighed. "Oh, God, this is going to be a disaster, isn't it?"

[not-a-bug.livejournal.com]

"I know," Jenks groaned heavily, less catching the sarcasm in Rachel's tone and more as though he had been given the weightiest burden in the world to now sit upon his shoulders. "And you think this is silk? Hello-o-o-o, this is people silk." Pause. "Which is not pixie silk." As if that was enough validation. "God, you six-footers don't know what you're missing."

Huh? "Ivy?" Uh oh, what was that tone? Jenks' hands planted on his hips, as authoritatively as he could managed, still perched onto Rachel's shoulder and buzzing a bit on her shoulder, somewhere between worry that the two had gotten in a fight and anger that he hadn't been let in on the gossip. "No, not lately. Vamp's been camped up in her room or something, I've got no idea what's going on." Not that Jenks had ever really been an expert on All Things Ivy. "What the Turn's going on?"

[racheltherunner.livejournal.com]

"Huh?" My eyes had slipped to Peter during Jenks' little rant about silk. God, that man could carry a suit. I'd taken to deciding which was more fun to stare at - his butt or his jaw (the butt was winning, but only by a bit) - when I realized that Jenks had asked me a question. Snapping back to attention, I blinked at him, feeling my face flushing as I tried to think of a good answer.

"Um..." Wow, brilliant start. "Oh, I don't know, really. Just haven't seen her. Since, you know, before Argentina." Continuing on in a rush, so we didn't get into that subject, I added, "And I haven't talked to her at all, especially not since the..." I waved my hand at Peter. "Marriage thing."

Oh, I was so screwed.

[not-a-bug.livejournal.com]

...What was she doing? Was she not listening to him? She was taking too long to answer. She wasn't listening to him. That was rude! He was very important! ...As were rants about silk!

Jenks let his own eye line follow where Rachel's had dipped to, over towards Peter, and the shoulders and the jaw and the butt and whatever the heck Rachel was looking at on the guy - hell if Jenks knew what she went straight for, although he was fairly certain that, yes, it had to do with butts. "Honest, Rache, what is it with you and the humans lately?" he griped over her comments, raising an eyebrow at Peter. "Thought we went over the fact that hogging all the cookies only ends in you getting sick all over your skanky hooker dresses?"

Anyway. Bigger and better topics. Like said aforementioned sentence. "And now you're going to back up, to the part where you said 'marriage', and you're going to start talking like there's no tomorrow." He paused a beat, and nodded, folding his arms and standing rather stockstill on her shoulder. "Or I'm going to pix you so much that your ass is going to want to itch itself."

[tamwood.livejournal.com]

"Spike, by the Turn, go home! You're not invited! Even if you were, you're not dressed properly!" Ivy threw a furious glance over her shoulder, eyeballing the vampire skulking behind her.

Spike, for his part, only smirked so hard that his cheekbones might crack. "You're hurting my feelings, love. I only want to say hello to your little Happy Meal friends."

Ivy didn't reply, except for an incoherent sound of frustration. Ever since they had met, Ivy and Spike had had an odd relationship. Spike needed blood, Ivy wanted it, Spike didn't mind killing randoms, Ivy did - it was mutually beneficial. But where Ivy could leave her blood-contacts alone, Spike seemed to enjoy following his around like a stalker.

She hadn't replied to Peter's owl, simply settling for showing up, dressed for a formal occasion (http://img232.imageshack.us/img232/1264/normalkcpic5bm3.jpg) as instructed. She'd thought Rachel was in Argentina. At this point, Ivy was so relieved to know that Rachel was back that she was willing to put the 'lack of contact' thing out of her head.

Spike still wouldn't leave, though. So Ivy simply cast him one last warning glare - he'd better not try and eat anybody - and slipped inside the tent, Spike following a few feet behind.

[racheltherunner.livejournal.com]

Pretty much hiding by pretending to be deep in conversation with Jenks while actually sneaking subtle (so I thought) glances at Peter, I didn't notice Ivy walking in. Which made my idle head turn towards the door that much more interesting. "Holy--" The rest of my sentence got lost in a strangled sound. She looked... Hot. Hot in a way that most people couldn't even hope to achieve. Where I worked hard to get my trampy sex vibe, Ivy exuded class and seduction while sporting something that definitely would have made me look like a hooker.

Sometimes I hated her.

My eyes narrowed at the sight of her tag-along. "Who's the bleach job?" I muttered to Jenks before I uncrossed my legs and stood up, figuring I'd better get to Ivy before Peter did. She might eat him.

"Hey." God, I was just full of conversational wonder tonight. "Um...I'm glad you could come." I didn't mean it to come out like a question, but my voice went up slightly at the end. I ignored shadow boy. Even though I secretly was lusting after his cheekbones jacket.

[tamwood.livejournal.com]

While Rachel was trying to fumble her way through the openings of a conversation, Ivy did nothing more than look at her, a corner of her lips turned upwards in what might have been described as a fond smile. Typical Rachel, attending a formal function with skirts up to nearly inappropriate heights.

Despite their fighting via letter, despite the fact that Rachel hadn't told Ivy that she was back from Argentina - Ivy couldn't help but be relieved to see her. She'd been thinking about Rachel as holding the key to her future sanity for far too long, if she equated Rachel's wellbeing as fueling her own.

"Yeah, well, that's all bloody well and spiffy," Spike interjected rudely, lurking just behind Ivy's shoulder, treating Rachel and Jenks to an eyebrow raise of part derisive amusement, part calculation. "But we didn't come for the company, pet. At least, I didn't."

Subtly, Ivy elbowed him in the ribs. "Rachel, Jenks, it's good to see you," she murmured, stepping forward and giving her a brief hug, careful not to knock Jenks. "It's been far too long."

[racheltherunner.livejournal.com]

I barely had time to think about returning the hug before Ivy was pulling away. Not that I was paying attention; my focus had swung to the idiot behind her. She was with him? God, Ivy.

While she was distantly polite and I tried not to care, I gave bleach job my best 'not quite human' grin. I think it was the 'pet' part. Too close to home and my hand had crept up to cover my scar before I realized it. Forcing it back down to my side, I dismissed Spike with a quiet snort before looking back at Ivy.

"I thought the invites were clear," I said, falsely bright. "Dinner was provided. Unless he's the after-meal entertainment. Although, to be honest, a live demonstration in how annoyance factor is in direct disproportion to the size of the junior member might not be quite dinner part appropriate."

Okay, maybe it wasn't just bleach job. Maybe it was the fact that Ivy just swept in like nothing was wrong with shadow boy in tow. And that she looked great and happy and I hadn't talked to her in a month. Whatever. Why should I care? I was happy, damn it. Sure, I was more celibate than Mother Theresa during Lent, but I was happier with Peter than I had been with my last several boyfriends - which probably said something horrible about me, but so be it.

What I was not was jealous. That was for sure.

[thebloodypoet.livejournal.com]

"Oooh, a feisty redhead," Spike leaned over to whisper theatrically into Ivy's ear, "You didn't told me you knew one of those. You make me all jealous, you do." Despite his obnoxious words, he was still smirking sharply at Rachel and Jenks.

For his words, he was treated to another elbow to the ribs. "It's good to see you again, really," Ivy smoothly forced her next half-smile. Rachel wasn't pleased, that was easy to see. And Ivy didn't want to start a fight here and now - so she gave Rachel and Jenks a polite nod, and strode over to Peter.

Spike, however, stayed. For a moment, he watched Ivy introduce herself to Peter, and looked away again as they conversed in low tones. He turned back to Rachel. "We're not together, if you're wondering," Spike announced. Not that he particularly cared what Rachel thought, but it seemed like something to say. "We vampires have to stick close to similar company, you know."

[done-hunting.livejournal.com]

Well, this had been a fun day.

Basically, trying to get Dean into a suit and walk across the grounds to get free food had turned into an all day bitch fest, complete with several physical displays of why Sam totally rocked more.

Now, literally pushing Dean up to the tent, Sam tugged on his jacket (http://www.freewebs.com/nikykil/JP-CCA-05-004.jpg) and straightened his tie one last time. "Come on, Dean," he said, exasperated. "Suck it up. It's just a dinner party. We go in, we make nice small talk, we eat, we leave. How hard is that?"

[wayward-son124.livejournal.com]

Just a dinner party? Just a dinner party?

He was in a suit (http://jensenacklesfans.com/gallery/albums/events/2006/wbnetworkallstar06jan/wbnwallstar06_hq001.jpg), dammit. A fricking suit. Dean Winchester didn't do suits. Dean Winchester was lucky if he did pants lately, actually, as he spent a hell of a lot of time mulling around the hut in... pretty much a t-shirt and boxers. What? He was a lazy sort of person. And jeans were a lot of work.

So, you know. Yes. Suit. "It's hard, Sam, and this tie is friggin' strangling me, and I hate you so much it hurts me," Dean managed to growl under his breath, eyes jumping around the room as he tugged at his own tie, writhing around like a seven-year-old forced into a clip-on. "Okay, we're here, and we talked, and I think I'm all set," he added, automatically starting to push past Sam again, out the door.

[racheltherunner.livejournal.com]

Wondering if some fresh air (and potential escape) would help with the headache I felt starting, I had started to walk towards the door, brushing a stray curl back and straightening my dress. Then Dean and Sam walked in and I literally froze, staring. Oh, God. Dean.

Freaking Peter. Words. We were going to have words later.

Sam spotted me first and made his way over, offering me a crooked smile and a murmured, "Hey, Rachel," before squeezing my shoulder in greeting. I barely moved, nodding at him, eyes still on Dean. He laughed a little, leaning down to mutter, "Go easy on him." Then he headed off into the tent, leaving us alone.

Great.

[wayward-son124.livejournal.com]

It was almost right when Rachel's eyes landed onto Dean that his own snagged onto her. And he was, quite literally, frozen. Maybe for different reasons than she was with having seen Dean.

And then, of course, Sam was leaving, even though Dean automatically grabbed for his coat, hissing a desperate, "Sam, no! SAM." Fingers only grazing the other Winchester's sleeve, though, he was left with Rachel. Very alone. With, um. That hemline. With the plunging neckline and lots of boobage going on up in her chest region and... hi.

He wasn't even sure he could speak, other than a strange sort of primal, guttural sound in his throat, and more subconscious yanking at his tie. Dammit. Awkward City. Population: Them.

[racheltherunner.livejournal.com]

Oh, God, he looked so good. And he was just staring at me, which made me shift awkwardly and blush. This was so far beyond awkward that I didn't even know how to start. 'Sorry about the whole 'I love you' thing?' 'Hey, nice tie, oh, by the way, it's okay you haven't tried to contact me in a month?' 'Go Turn yourself, Winchester?'

"Hey." Social guru Rachel Morgan strikes again. Hesitantly I tried to smile, eyes sweeping him and then returning to his face. "Um, you look nice."

Yeah, this was going great. Damn it, Peter, where were you when I needed you?

[racheltherunner.livejournal.com]

I needed a distraction. (http://community.livejournal.com/hogwarts_hocus/1437820.html?thread=73337980#t73337980) Dean had decided that I wasn't worth the spit he shined his ugly, clumpy boots with, Peter was freaking following after him offering him wine, I'd just beat up a fat guy, and the kiss I'd given Peter (half out of 'Dear God, I'm tired of waiting for you to notice me' and half out of 'Damn it, I'm desirable, Dean, so suck it') had made my knees weak. Stupid knees.

Anyway, I was looking for someone to take my mind off of things. And hello, square-jawed brother in law. You'd do nicely. Walking up to him, I snagged two glasses and a wine bottle. "Hey," I smiled slowly, not at all a friendly 'sister' smile. "You look bored. Want a drink?"

[soopernathan.livejournal.com]

...Hello, hot new sister-in-law who has not heard of a thing called a hemline.

Things had been most decidedly friendly before. The hugging and the flirty eyes on Nathan's end, but those were really just by second nature now. But now, with the wine added to the equation, and the pair of bedroom eyes matched with that smile... Damn. Man eaters should definitely be able to tell when they're being man eaters, and they should most certainly not wear heels like that because it was bound to do a guy in, real fast.

"'Bored' is one word." Nobody to talk to, basically twiddling his thumbs in his pockets... Yeah, definitely the word for it. "But, you know. The company's... vastly improved, I think. Yeah, I'll definitely take a drink."

[racheltherunner.livejournal.com]

My eyes slid over to Peter almost against my will. Well, he and Dean seemed rather...chummy. No matter how good either of them looked in a suit, they were definitely on my shit list now. Dean for being an ass and Peter for not being on my side, and then letting me walk away after a kiss like that. You just didn't do that.

So yeah, Nathan - who was actually being nice and paying attention to me - was definitely my favorite person at the moment. Giving him a coy smile, I sat on the arm of the couch and crossed my legs. "Can't have that, now can we?" I asked as I poured us both a glass of wine - I was going to hate myself in the morning - and held one out for him. "We'll have to think of something to entertain you."

Suck on that, boys.

[soopernathan.livejournal.com]

The first thought on Nathan's mind? Certainly not following her line of sight. ...Not that his eyes could be bothered with snagging onto anything other than that tempting sort of way her neckline plunged down past her... damn. Nathan was married. Nathan loved Heidi. ...And he certainly loved saying that to himself whenever Rachel made herself known in his presence.

...Oh? Speaking of married. Wasn't she married too? ...To Nathan's brother? And, yet, here she was, nine miles of legs exposed under that silk hemline, fingers wrapped easily around the stem of a wine glass. Lesser men would have caved in about ... five minutes ago. Nathan wasn't looking to shape up to be such a great man, though, considering the way his eyes were scouring over her like she was a freaking buffet.

"Entertainment?" he repeated, fingers brushing her own for a brief moment as he silently thanked her for the glass. "Well, that, I mean... Wide range of possibilities that comes with that sort of promise. Rachel." Which was somewhere between 'careful what you say, now' and piqued interest as to just what the hell she had in mind.

[racheltherunner.livejournal.com]

Careful, Rachel. You don't want him, remember? This was just innocent flirting to take your mind off of things. Another glance over at Peter had me catching his eye, just for a second.

That's right, Petrelli. Chum it up with the man who broke my heart and then just stomped all over it. Your brother and I are having a nice chat over here.

"Canasta?" I asked, innocent, my lips curving up. My finger traced slow, idle circles around the rim of my glass. "Or maybe a round of Go Fish? I like games - well," I took a sip of my wine, tongue darting out to catch a drop from the corner of my mouth. "I like diversions, I should say."

Over my head? Don't mind if I do. Shifting forward just a bit, I rested my hand on his arm. "You have to tell me, Nathan, because I'm dying to know. How does a pilot get into politics? Don't you miss the thrill?" That last word got caught in my quick breath, making my chest rise and fall. I wished I could arch one brow, but I made do with lifting both. "I'd think you'd have to be craving some excitement."