The Airing of Grievances (Peter’s Favorite Holiday)
Title: The Airing of Grievances (Peter’s Favorite Holiday)
Author: cameroncrazed
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine. None of it. Never has been, probably never will be.
Written for challenge #6 (Christmas or other wintry holiday) at sylaire_chall
“Please, mom?” Claire begs, and Sandra wonders just why it’s so important. “Please come to this one party. I need you and Dad there.”
Sandra’s just a tad bit suspicious. “Why?”
“Because it’s a Petrelli party, and those generally don’t go well.” Claire sighs. “Hopefully everyone will behave if there are non-family members there. I just don’t want another repeat of the Christmas party.”
Sandra winces; it had taken them three days to scrub all the blood out of Claire’s pretty holiday dress and she’s sure that Sylar’s suit is unsalvageable. “I don’t know about this, Claire. I’ve never even heard of this holiday before!”
“It’s something Peter wants to celebrate, you know how he is.”
Peter. That explains a lot. “Let me guess, lots of puppy-dog eyes and begging.”
“You know Peter. He’s just so excited about this; he swears it’s his favorite holiday of the entire year.”
“Well…” Sandra really doesn’t want to have to go to this party.
“Please? It would mean so much to him.”
“Okay.” She already knows it’s a bad decision.
- - - - - - - - - -
Peter throws open the door before Noah can even knock on it. Sandra’s not expecting the apartment to be so… bare. And what on earth had happened to that poor boy’s Christmas tree? All that was left was an unadorned metal pole with a tree skirt underneath.
Peter follows her stare, and laughs. “Oh, that’s the way it’s supposed to be.”
She always thought that the Petrellis had money, but maybe that’s all that Peter could afford. She feels kinda bad for sending him a shirt for Christmas; maybe he could have used cash more.
She’s interrupted from her musing when Peter suddenly slams the door shut. “What on Earth?”
“Nothing.” Peter throws his body against the door, as if he can stop something from entering.
“Peter, let my boyfriend in.” Claire smacks him on the arm, and tries to drag him away from the door.
“You still dating that… murderer?” Nathan asks.
“Yes. And you will be nice to him, understand?”
“He can stay out there until he rots, then. Bring a nice boy to supper, we’ll let him in.”
The door bucks, and Peter tries to force it back closed.
“Peter!” Angela enters the room, and quickly realizes what’s going on. “Open the door and let him in. Now. He’s practically family already.” Angela winks at Claire, and Sandra gets confirmation of what she’d been suspecting for the last month.
- - - - - - - - - -
“You don’t like the meal?” Peter’s lower lip is just slightly trembling, but no one comments on it.
Sandra looks at the food in front of her again, then at everyone else at the table. Angela has already pushed her plate away, without tasting a single bite, in favor of the largest wine glass Sandra’s ever seen. With a mesmerized look on his face, Sylar had been amusing himself by stabbing at his tofu loaf with his knife; they all jump when the congealed mess yanks the knife away from him. Monty’s eyes light up, and he proceeds to start poking his meal with his fork before Heidi quickly takes both the food and the fork away from him. Claire and Lyle are whispering frantically, and all she can hear is “but it’s pink!”, but she knows that they’re daring each other to try the guacamole. She just can’t bring herself to eat another horrid mouthful, but it would be so impolite…
“Oh, Peter, honey, thank you but… I’m on a diet.”
“Me too!” Everyone else at the table echoes quickly.
Peter looks even more crestfallen. “I guess no one wants dessert then. It’s the traditional Festivus cake.”
“Did you make it?” Nathan asks bluntly, and Sandra’s a bit shocked that he’s talking so clearly; she’s watched him drain six glasses of bourbon already. Claire hadn’t mentioned anything about all the alcohol that was going to be present - and it wasn’t even a New Year's party!
“No. I bought a chocolate cake and just stuck candy on it.”
Sylar finally dislodges his knife with a loud squelching sound. “You bought it? Then we’ll try it.”
The smile on Peter’s face could light Times Square, Sandra thinks to herself. He runs into the kitchen and comes back with a rather nice looking cake and a handful of dessert plates. He drops the cake in the center of the table, but it makes the oddest clunking sound. Sandra’s certainly never heard a cake make that noise before, but she reminds herself that Peter had not made the cake.
“Pete?” Nathan tentatively touches the cake. “It’s still frozen.”
“Was I supposed to thaw it? I can fix that, no problem.”
“Wait, Pete! No!” Nathan yelps as Angela and Heidi both reach for their wine glasses at the same time, and Sandra frowns. These Petrellis drink so much!
She watches, fascinated, as Peter’s hands start to glow a dull orange, but becomes alarmed when they quickly turn bright red. She gasps, and Noah grabs her and pushes her underneath the table. The rest of Peter’s dinner guests join them under the solid oak tabletop just as the cake explodes in a gush of liquid chocolate.
When they finally retake their seats, Sandra hopes that dinner’s almost over.
“Peter,” Angela moans. “I’m so ashamed of you.”
“Ma!” Nathan snaps at her, and Sandra has to agree with Claire’s bio-daddy. That was just rude.
“Oh, fine, Nathan. I thought we were doing eldest to youngest, but apparently not. Peter, you start, since you’re the host.”
“Thank you, Nathan.” Peter wipes a smudge of chocolate off his cheek. “I hate it when you treat me like a dumb kid, Nathan. And you disappoint me so much when you keep having affairs, thinking that no one knows. And that beard? Disgusting. Shave it; I’m ashamed to be seen with you in public when you look like a rabid beaver. I’m surprised that Heidi lets you anywhere near her when you’re like that; the beard burn is a bitch.”
Sandra turns to Noah, eyes wide. What in the Sam Hill is going on here?
Heidi must have noticed their baffled looks, because in between Peter telling off Angela and Nathan, she leans over and explains. “Have you two never celebrated Festivus before?”
“No. This is all new to us. We don’t have these new-age sort of holidays where we’re from.” Sandra doesn’t exactly say that she disapproves, but it’s very obvious that she does.
“Then you’re in for a treat. Welcome to the airing of grievances, I suggest you get yourselves a big cup of booze, because you’re going to need it, especially once Angela gets going - she can go for hours.”
- - - - - - - - - -
“And you, Claire, I’m so disappointed in the…” Nathan hesitates for a second, trying to find the right phrase. “Disappointed in the life choices you’re making. You make me ashamed to be your father.”
“That’s enough of that!” Sylar growls, and Claire places a restraining hand on his arm.
“And Sylar, God, we don’t have enough time to get to all the ways you annoy me. I hate the fact that you’re fu…”
“Nathan!” Heidi shrieks, interrupting her husband before he can say anything too bad. Sandra’s glad that Heidi stops him; she’d hate to have to see Sylar kill the man for crude talk.
Sandra wonders if they can leave yet.
“No, you can’t.” Peter answers her, and then adds “and no, you didn’t say it out loud. Festivus isn’t over under after the feat of strengths.” He says it like he’s almost daring her to make an early escape attempt.
She takes another sip of wine; it’s going to be a long night.
- - - - - - - - - -
“You tried to destroy the world!” Peter accuses his mother.
“Just New York, darling. Your father’s the one that wanted to destroy the world.”
“You wanted me to blow up and destroy New York, then!”
“And you couldn’t even manage that. You always were an underachiever; such a disappointment to me as a child - and you wonder why I tried to claim Sylar as my son instead.”
Sylar doesn’t say anything, but just smirks at Peter.
Sandra can’t believe how dysfunctional this family acts, and she wonders yet again if Meredith had lied about Claire’s father. Surely her darling isn’t actually related to these people.
- - - - - - - - - -
“Oh, Noah, sweetheart.” Sandra gushes, and she knows that’s probably a sign that she shouldn’t have played that delightful little drinking game with Heidi while Angela was harping on Peter and Nathan, but she just doesn’t care; the tequila had taken care of that.
“I hate it when you bring guns to bed. It’s not kinky, it’s just flat-out weird, and then I end up having to scrub gunpowder out of the sheets. And for crying out loud, you’re a grown man, would it kill you to put the toilet lid down just once in a while? Wait, did I say those last two things out loud?”
“Yes.” Claire answers her, and puts her head down on the table. Sylar pats her on the head, and Sandra thinks it’s just the cutest thing ever. So she says so.
“Oh, aren’t you two adorable? You’re going to have such pretty babies. I shouldn’t have said that, but oh well. That reminds me! Oh, Claire, my pretty pretty girl, it makes me so disappointed when you won’t tell me anything; when are you going to learn that I can keep secrets and that I don’t tell your father everything?” Sandra takes another swig from the bottle sitting in front of her, and delicately uses the back of her hand to wipe her mouth; it’s always important to act ladylike. “I didn’t tell him when you got your period for the first time and you thought you were dying, or about when I caught you kissing that horrible Jackie, God rest her soul, or how I found those used condoms in the kitchen, so it just makes me so disappointed that you can’t come to me and just own up to the fact that you’re marrying that beautiful beautiful hunk of man sitting next to you?” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “By the way, how good is he in bed? ‘Cause I bet he’s amazing.”
Before anyone can recover from their shock enough to comment on anything she’d just babbled, Sandra turns her attention to Lyle. “Lyle, baby, don’t lie to your mother. I know all about those magazines under your bed, and it just makes me so ashamed. Oh, and Noah! I almost forgot! That thong is just…”
Noah slaps his hand over her mouth. “She’s through. I’m disappointed in all of you, and you all make me ashamed. Are we finally done yet?”
That was just beyond uncalled for, Sandra thinks, because I wasn’t anywhere near through. She tries to talk, but he tightens his hold over her mouth and wraps an arm around her to restrain her. She struggles a bit more, but the world starts spinning and she gives up; maybe mixing all that wine and liquor was a bad idea.
“But…” Peter starts to whine, but stops when he sees the looks he’s getting from everyone at the table. “If no one else has anything to add, I guess we can move on. I just want to let you know that you’re taking all the fun out of the holiday by rushing through it, but fine. Whatever. No big deal.”
“Just tell us what the hell we have to do in order to go home.” Sylar sounds more tired than pissed. “It’s two in the morning. Let’s play your twisted little reindeer games so I can get some sleep.”
“Fine. As host, I get to challenge someone to a duel - a feat of strengths, if you will. You can leave when the challenger wins.”
Sandra licks Noah’s hand, then nips at him when he doesn’t immediately let her go. He removes his hand from her mouth, but tightens his grasp on her hips. “Promise?” She asks, just as ready as Sylar is to leave, except that she doesn’t exactly want to sleep. She can’t remember the last time she was this drunk, and she wants to take advantage of it - and of the fact that Claire would go home with Sylar and that Lyle was going to have a sleepover with the Petrelli boys.
“Yes. And I choose…” Peter looks around the table, trying to pick. Nathan, Noah, and Sylar are all immediately out, he doesn’t want an ass-kicking that badly. Heidi and Sandra both look and act too drunk to stand, and Angela had already informed him earlier that she wasn’t about to do something as undignified as wrestle with him on the ground. The boys were just too young, he doesn’t want to hurt them… and he has the best idea ever. “Claire. Come on, let’s wrestle.”
“Oh, hell no.” Sylar interjects, then grabs her hand and pulls her down on his lap when she starts to stand. “You’re not going to roll around on the ground with Uncle Touchy-Feely there. Pick someone else. What about me?”
“No!” Peter almost shrieks. “No, no, that’ll just turn violent, and that’s not what Festivus is about.”
“Oooh, pick me! Pick me!” Sandra thinks she has a brilliant idea.
“No.” Noah starts the overprotective man routine, but Sandra just shushes him.
“Okay then. Sandra, I challenge you to a duel.”
She starts to stand, then sits back down in a hurry. “Oh, you know, Noah might have been right. I’m just a tad bit…” she wants to say wasted, but that’s too indelicate. “I’m a bit tipsy. Can I pick a champion to fight for me?”
“I guess.” Peter doesn’t look too happy about that.
Noah sighs, and starts to stand, but Sandra places her hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Don’t be silly, Noah. You’re too old to play with the young men anymore. Sylar, sweetheart, please?”
Sylar grins, and starts to advance on Peter. Peter yelps and runs. Sylar just grins, and telekinetically summons the Festivus pole into his hands, holding it like a baseball bat. “Oh, Peter, come back here” he calls out.
- - - - - - - - - -
“You know, this might be the best Festivus we ever have had.” Heidi yawns and rests her head on Nathan’s shoulder.
“They’re normally worse than this?” Noah asks, tone implying that he finds that hard to believe.
“Oh yes.” Nathan smoothes his wife’s hair back. “Last year, none of us would talk to each other for a full two months afterwards.” He looks over at his boys, sound asleep on the couches. “I don’t know how they can sleep through this noise.”
Peter shrieks again, and ducks as Sylar throws a fire ball at him.
“Sylar! Don’t kill my uncle!” Claire yells at him.
“I’m not going to kill him.” Sylar rolls his eyes. “Just make him a little extra crispy. He’ll heal.”
“Don’t. That’s going to smell so bad. Could you just break his nose or arm or something?” Claire suggests.
“You know,” Heidi murmurs to Sandra, “you were right. They are so cute together.”
They watch in silence as Sylar finally manages to catch Peter, and pins him to the floor.
“Okay, you win; Festivus is over, everybody out!” Peter quickly gives up, finally ready to be through with the holiday.
- - - - - - - - - -
“Oh, thank you again so much, Peter.” Sandra grasps his hand on her way out. “It was so much fun, especially watching Sylar chase you around the apartment. It’s a very charming holiday. Let’s do it again next year.” She thinks for a second, then adds. “I’ll bring the cake.”
“Sounds good to me, Pete.” Nathan adds. “It really was the best party we’ve had in a long time.”
Peter looks around the ruins of what once was his apartment; it’s going to take him forever to get the place cleaned up, and he doesn’t even want to think about how much he’s going to have to pay to fix the damage the Festivus pole had done to the ceiling and windows. “I think I’ve lost the holiday spirit.”