Closed RP: The Morgan-Petrelli Tent

[likeabadpenny]

Damn, he had gotten dressed up for this? Surprise marriageStill, Peter Petrelli was hardly a man to fight fate - he tended to run face first into it - so he just calmly collected himself and headed down to the tent village. At least, by the looks of the rather large crowd, he wasn't the only person roped into this

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[likeabadpenny]

It would have at least been nice to have a pleasant sleep of some kind. Unfortunately, that was growing more and more impossible for Peter's mind - even since he'd exploded, he'd had dreams every night. Possibilities of what could have happened; if Nathan hadn't arrived quickly enough, if he hadn't taken action when he had, if Sylar had won the fight. Even being exhausted didn't spare him. Today, it was one of the variations that Peter really despised and worried over - if he'd exploded right in the middle of Kirby Plaza.

With a sharp gasp, Peter woke up all too suddenly, right in the middle of trying to reach out and warn somebody. The motion carried over and sent Peter toppling out of bed, landing face-first on the floor. His mind still reeling with images of people burning alive, he rolled over onto his back and simply lay there. Peter cracked his jaw back into its rightful position.

Oh, christ. The memory of yesterday came back in a rush. But the very end of last night hadn't been so bad - it had been really nice, actually, once

[racheltherunner]

Caught in the middle of my spat of domestic bliss, I looked up with a grin. "Morning." He still looked like crap, but less like he would fall down at any moment. So...slight improvement. Walking over, dressed in a casual jeans and a tank top, I pressed a mug of coffee in his hand. "I'm making pancakes. So, in a manner of speaking, yes."

I'd had a good night's sleep. Gotten up fairly early, even, and made up several different potions. Then gotten started on breakfast. Peter, I knew, had not had my luck. I'd heard him, muttering in his sleep. Sometimes shouting. At one point I'd stood in his doorway, watching him. Helpless. It had not been a good feeling.

Touching his arm, gently, I searched his face. "Bad dreams?" But before he could answer, my pancakes started to burn.

"Turn it!" Shoving my mug into his hands, I turned around, quickly flipping them over. Okay, only slightly charred. Not too bad.

[likeabadpenny]

Dazed, Peter managed to keep hold on the mug Rachel had shoved at him, watching as she hurried over to the pancakes to keep them from burning. Ooh, pancakes. He hadn't had pancakes in ages.

But at least it had given him a distraction, allowing him to avoid her question about bad dreams. That was something Peter really didn't even want to think about five minutes after one had woken up. He still wanted to run and find Nathan, just to make sure that he was alive and healthy, even though he knew logically that his brother was fine.

Stepping closer into the kitchen, Peter quirked a faint smile, rubbing a hand over his chin. He should probably shave. "Want any help? It's been a while since I've made pancakes, but I could probably manage to do something, provided it's easy and doesn't involve cooking. I could find toppings?"

[racheltherunner]

I knew all about bad dreams. When you had a demon's aura on you, when that demon liked torture like some people liked oxygen, when you had a scar that turned off your free will and made you into a walking vamp happy meal... Yeah. You had dreams. And I, for whatever reason, wanted to know what Peter's were. So I could help.

Like I could help anyone.

Managing my chaos, I glanced over at him, my mouth tugging into a smile. "Sure. You're on topping detail." I took back my mug and, impulsively, gave him a brief kiss on the cheek. Yeah, I needed to stop doing that. Like, now. Whatever. "Then you sit. I'm cooking." Brandishing my spatula at him, I grinned impishly and returned to making sure I didn't burn the tent down.

[likeabadpenny]

Managing to make a sound that was mostly just an affirmative grunt, Peter set Rachel's mug down on the nearest flat surface and shuffled over to the cupboards. What did people like on pancakes again? He really had no idea, other than lemon and sugar or whipped cream, so once he'd loaded his arms full of everything he could think of that might go on pancakes, Peter unloaded them onto the table.

Staring down at the collection, he snorted slightly, and picked up the bottle of soy sauce, going to put it back on the shelf. That probably wasn't the best thing to go on pancakes.

Once he was finished, he ignored Rachel's command to sit and instead leaned against the counter, watching her cook. "Nice t-shirt," Peter commented dryly. "Almost as nice as the pajamas."

[racheltherunner]

"Yeah, well," I was cutting up oranges and popped a slice into his mouth. "I have great taste." My eyes dancing, I licked off my finger, then put all the fresh fruit I'd found - strawberries, melons, cantaloupe, grapes, and those oranges - into a bowl.

Easily flipping the pancakes, I glanced over at him. "You really weren't kidding about mornings, were you, Petrelli?" My tone was teasing, and I smiled to myself. Humming one of Takata's tunes under my breath, I started to put my towering stack of pancakes onto a plate.

Heaving that up, juggling the plate and the bowl, I walked over to the table. "Soup's on. Let's see if we can't wake you up."

[likeabadpenny]

Having suddenly been confronted with Rachel putting food in his mouth, Peter looked startled for a moment before he started chewing on the piece of orange. Why did food always taste so great right after you woke up? It was a mystery that Peter had yet to solve.

"No, I really am brain dead when I wake up," he replied sheepishly. "It's probably like watching a retarded dog trying to figure out how to use a really complicated dog door." ...Where that analogy had come from, Peter couldn't really say. Probably Claude.

As soon as the food was ready, Peter all but threw himself into one of the chairs at the table. God, was there coffee? He hoped there was coffee. "Thanks," he looked up at Rachel, pleased. "This is a better breakfast than I've had in years, I think."

[racheltherunner]

Pouring him a mug of coffee, I slid it towards him and shrugged. "It's just pancakes." Speaking of which... I dished my self up a couple, digging out the syrup from the pile of things he'd brought over and squirting a healthy dose onto the fluffy stack.

"Hmmm... Haven't spent much time on the 'retarded dog' channel," I admitted with a grin, digging into my foot. "But I'm only acting superior because you were still conked out while I was shuffling around here, grunting and banging my shin on the fridge when I went hunting for coffee."

Spearing a strawberry, I popped it in my mouth, making a low moaning noise of pleasure. God, fresh strawberries. Pretty much nothing better than that. Taking a sip of my own cup of coffee, I leaned back a little, stretching. "Do you run?" I asked, seemingly apropos of nothing. I needed a good run.

[likeabadpenny]

"Beats the hell out of cold pizza," Peter replied, serving himself up some pancakes and trying not to look like he was practically drooling over them.

The image of Rachel shuffling around like a zombie made Peter snort quietly in amusement. At least he wasn't the only one. Peter had never understood how some people could actually be alert mere minutes after they woke up. It went against all laws of nature.

Did he...? Peter wrinkled his nose, staring at Rachel like she'd just asked him if he liked to roll around swamps for the fun of it. "God, no. My ambition is to grow fat and old. Starting right now." Peter shoveled pancake into his mouth to prove his point. He didn't do crazy early-morning things like running.

[phobophilia]

Ignoring all things such as being randomly married and almost constantly annoyed with that yellow-eyed cretin, Algaliarept was in a rather good mood indeed. His dear Rachel Mariana Morgan had been using ley-lines last night, making it all too easy to pinpoint her exact location. She really was... dreadfully careless at times.

Especially since she hadn't had the foresight to actually keep anybody from randomly wandering into her tent. Or, appearing, as the case may be. The demon, from his vantage point, could see Rachel dining quite happily with her new husband. Pity. He was about to destroy that in one minute.

"Now, this really is quite pleasantly domestic," Algaliarept announced brightly, walking casually into the living room, trailing a hand along the wall as if he were admiring the tent itself and not there for Rachel at all. "Rachel Mariana Morgan, you have done quite well for yourself

[racheltherunner]

In an instant, things can change. I should know that, better than anyone. That one beat between whatever tenuous grasp on normalcy I manage to find, and whatever goes bump in the night. One second I was sitting with Peter, having a nice breakfast, laughing, talking, teasing. And the next, Al was there. Like out of a nightmare, out of my nightmares, he sauntered in. As if he belonged.

"Don't touch him," I hissed, my mind screaming for my frozen limbs to move. To react. To do something. Finally wrenching my body from its stupidly terrorized state, one smooth motion had me thrusting myself between Al and Peter. One hand went to my waistband, pulling out my splat gun. The other reached back to touch Peter, to assure myself he was there. That I was protecting him

[phobophilia]

Putting on a disappointed expression, Algaliarept made his way around the table to where Rachel had been sitting, and sat down in an elegant move. If it weren't for the fact that Rachel had reacted so explosively, it looked like he could be a normal dinner guest.

Peter, for his part, had furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and stepped around Rachel. "What?" He muttered, annoyed. "It's only some random guy, why are you..." Looking over Rachel's shoulder, he glanced at Algaliarept, and paused as he finally saw the goat-slitted eyes. Still, that wasn't exactly cause to worry.

The demon waved a hand dismissively, neatly picking off a piece of Rachel's pancake. "Rachel Mariana Morgan, love, you can't tell me to get out if I'm not here on business. I do have a life outside of you."

[racheltherunner]

Focus, Rachel. Focus. "Shut up, Peter," I muttered, thinking hard. My circle wouldn't work on Al. He had my aura, I had his. And I didn't know if Peter could pull one, never mind having taught him how.

"Well, then," I told Algaliarept, "your manners suck. Don't you know you shouldn't come barging in, uninvited?"

Panic, pure and simple, was coating my throat with a sour taste. Damn, damn, double damn. This was my fault. I'd drawn on a line last night, not even thinking. I might as well have just put up a gigantic red flag, pointing myself out. Stupid, Morgan.

"Pete," I said, softly, eyes not leaving Al by my free hand going back to lightly grasp his arm. "Get out of here. Now." There was a hardness in my voice born of fear and desperation. I needed to get him out, needed him to be safe. Then Al could do whatever. But hell if I was going to let the demon touch anyone else. "Go invisible, stop time, do whatever, but get out." My jaw was working as I searched for options, my fingers twitching on the barrel of my gun

[likeabadpenny]

"Now that is an interesting thing to say, Rachel Mariana Morgan," Algaliarept purred, effortlessly dissecting an orange. Peter watched, too surprised to really do anything just yet. How had this guy known about his near-explosion in New York? Something just wasn't right here; obviously, considering that Rachel was as freaked out as he'd ever seen her.

Folding his arms across his chest, Peter stepped out to stand beside Rachel, shrugging off her hand. "I'm not going anywhere," he replied stubbornly, raising his eyebrows at her. "Who is this guy, anyway?"

Before Rachel had a chance to answer, Algaliarept laughed loudly, beaming in amusement. "Love, you haven't told him about me, yet? I feel so unwanted," the demon announced. "I just come to check up on my little witch, and there's so much you haven't told me. You're keeping company with people like him? I'm a harmless puppy in comparison," he laughed. His eyes trailed lazily downwards, watching Rachel's fingers on her gun. Like that would have any effect.

[racheltherunner]

"Algaliarept," I said, putting emphasis on every letter. Oh, God, I hoped I knew what I was doing. "You stop talking about him. Do you hear me? Stop. He's none of your concern."

Glancing at Peter, I gritted out a sigh, moving in front of him again. "He's a demon, Peter. So please, I'm begging you, go."

"I didn't waste time on meaningless conversation," I shot at Al with a glower. "We talked about the weather. Grass growing. You know, all sorts of things that are more important than you."

He hadn't changed yet. That was a good thing, right? My scar was mercifully silent. Now if Al would just follow suit. There were things he could say that I didn't want Peter to know. Not yet, not like this. "And I'm not your witch. So get out of our house." I raised my splat gun. "Now."

[phobophilia]

Crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair, Algaliarept smirked to himself, intently watching the dynamic between his little witch and her guest. Both so stubborn. No matter how many times Rachel told Peter to leave, the boy just grew more and more determined to stay.

"This is delightful," the demon crowed, enormously pleased with himself. His voice took on a pitying cast. "You are quite terrible at ordering people to do things, Rachel Mariana Morgan, and I'll beg you to stop. It's getting in the way of conversation."

Beside Rachel, Peter scowled sharply. "Exactly. I'm not leaving you alone," he agreed. Algaliarept had the pleasure of watching disgust pass over Peter's face as he realized he had just agreed with a demon.

"You are both simply wonderful," Algaliarept smiled serenely. "And of course you're my witch, you have my aura all over you, and my mark. Did you see them, Peter? My black all over her, my mark on her wrist. She simply can't leave me alone." Intently, his gaze focused on Peter, who apparently still hadn't