Bricks in the Wall, Chapter 12: Missed Connection
"Tell me about the most beautiful girl you ever saw."
Peter smiled warmly as they sat together in the diner, enjoying coffee. "We were called for a delivery, but when we got there, the woman had already given birth in the home. It was the most beautiful little baby girl." His face glowed a little in memory.
Sylar scoffed. "You know what I meant." He rolled his eyes, trying to move Peter past the sappy bullshit and onto what he really wanted to know. "Fine - sexiest woman."
Peter sighed. "Yeah, okay. Best looking woman I ever saw … we got called to this nursing home."
"Peter-" Sylar tried to break in, not wanting some recounting of an aged starlet or whatever.
Peter grinned broadly. "No, seriously, listen. Dispatch told us she was twenty-five, but neither of us believed it. I assumed someone had misheard and it was ninety-five or something. But we got there a little late. There was already a fire rescue there. I don't know why they were there, really, but they were all crowded around her. She really was twenty-five. Even though she had some hives breaking out on her arms - she was having an allergic reaction - she was drop-dead gorgeous." He shook his head in remembered disbelief. "Like an angel and a pin-up model combined."
"In a nursing home," Sylar inquired flatly.
"Yeah, in a nursing home. She worked there. Not everyone good-looking is on TV, you know."
"No, I know that," Sylar said too quickly. Some of them are paramedics. He cleared his throat and added, "So what did you do?"
Peter eye-balled him suspiciously for a moment and then went on. "Anyway, I gave her some Benadryl and we took her to the hospital for observation. You've got to watch allergy cases for when the Benadryl wears off, but she was fine."
"Did you chat her up?"
"No, I let Hesam tech."
"Why? I thought he usually drove."
"Yeah, he does, except on transfers. I thought he'd really enjoy it and it wasn't like she was compromised or anything. She seemed to really like the attention from the firefighters, and Hesam was … well, she got plenty of attention."
"You had the most attractive woman you'd ever met, personally, and you let this other guy spend time alone with her in the back of the ambulance?"
"They weren't doing anything, if that's what you're saying."
"No, that's not what I'm saying. Jeez, Peter." Sylar ran a hand through his hair. "Fine, okay. Most attractive guy."
Peter was quiet for a moment. "I think I lucked out. My partner at work … Hesam … is a really, really good-looking guy."
Sylar stared levelly at him, optional definitions of 'partner' running around in his head. "The guy you work with every day."
"Yeah. He's a really nice guy. Good head on his shoulders. I disappointed him a lot." Peter considered that his appreciation of Hesam's personality might be coloring his judgment some, but personality and outlook made such a huge difference that it was almost impossible for Peter to consider it separate from appearance.
"Your … partner."
Peter blinked up at him. "He's straight," he snapped.
"Are you sure?"
"He said so."
"So you've asked him?"
"It came up!" Peter said defensively.
"When you asked him out?"
"No!"
"So you've never gone out with him?"
"What? No! Well, we've gone out with the guys, the EMTs to go Houlihans sometimes, but no. Not with him. Like, not on a date."
"Does he know you're interested in him?"
"I'm not interested in him!" Christ, Sylar, cut it out! Interrogation, much?
"But you just said …"
"Yeah, so? Just because someone looks good doesn't mean I'm into them." Not that, Peter knew, Hesam wouldn't be nice, but he was straight and that was that. "As far as that goes, you know, Mohinder is incredibly attractive, but … no."
"No?"
"No," Peter echoed firmly. "He has no interest in people at all. Only in what they can do." Sylar made no answer, just regarding Peter silently. "You're really attractive, too, but I'm not making any moves on you, either."
"So I've noticed," Sylar said, voice chilly.
Peter sighed and looked away, chewing his lip slowly. Finally he said, "Physical beauty is like a set of clothes. It looks good on people. It catches my eye. I look more. Maybe I like what I see; maybe I really like what I see. But clothes aren't why I fall in love with someone. I don't think to myself, 'Wow, that's an incredible dress, I need to ask her out' or 'That's an incredible suit, I love the way it flatters his form, I wonder if he'd let me try his jacket on.' I suppose it helps to get my attention - you know, I'm human - but it's not what I'm looking for."
"What are you looking for?"
Peter looked back at Sylar, making eye contact. Sylar didn't look away from him, eyes boring into Peter's until Peter tore his gaze away. "I dunno. A connection, friendship, a good time, something that matters - to be someone who matters to someone, even just for a little while." 'It's my turn to be somebody now, Nathan.'
"A connection?" Sylar said, sounding dumb-founded.
"Yeah, guess so." Peter glanced up at him, but Sylar was still staring at him too intently. "Stop staring at me, man. It's creepy."
Sylar gave three slow blinks and looked away. A connection …