Peter Petrelli (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
spongetastic) wrote2009-06-13 09:40 am
spongetastic) wrote2009-06-13 09:40 am
Entry tags:
Mad Muses: Last Time
"This is the last time"
He slouched in the chair, his fingers drumming idly on his legs. Around him the place was bustling with activity. They hardly gave the teenage boy in the Metallica T-shirt a second glance. Usually Peter hated being ignored, but in this particular situation he was fine with it. He checked his watch and noticed he'd been sitting here for well over two hours. Sighing, he picked up his finger drum solo where it left off.
One of the cops finally remembered him enough to bring him a soda. He thanked the man and took a sip, slouching even farther down into the chair.
"Peter." He quickly straightened up at the sound of his name. "Your father's here."
"Thanks for the warning," he answered, grinning. And he was very thankful because it gave him a good ten seconds to brace himself. The man stomped his way over to his son looking like he was doing everything he could to not explode on the spot.
"I am very disappointed in you, young man," he announced. "What did you do this time?"
"Nothing," the boy shrugged, sipping his soda.
"Nothing?" Arthur repeated, and it was amazing how much annoyance and rage could be piled onto a single word. "The police called me in my office telling me you're here doing nothing?"
"Yep," Peter answered. "Great system, huh?"
"You really expect me to believe that?" The older man's voice was getting louder at an alarming rate. All the cops in the station had their eyes on the father and son duo. "You have been caught skipping school. You sneak into the house hours after your curfew. Your clothes smell like alcohol." After each infraction Arthur's voice grew louder. "Don't you dare sit there lying to me telling me you didn't do anything!!"
"Okay, fine, I did something," Peter admitted, trying to lean as far back in his chair as possible.
"I'm getting tired of this," Arthur sighed, rubbing his eyes wearily. "This is the last time. The last time I bail you out of trouble. The next time you get picked up by the police you're spending the night here. Understand?"
"Yes, sir," the teen responded.
"Good." Arthur took a deep breath. It looked like he was calming down enough to save the rest of his yelling for when they got home. "Get your things. We're leaving."
"Yes, sir." Peter turned to grab his backpack, hiding the smile that formed on his face. His father told him it would be the "last time" once before.
He slouched in the chair, his fingers drumming idly on his legs. Around him the place was bustling with activity. They hardly gave the teenage boy in the Metallica T-shirt a second glance. Usually Peter hated being ignored, but in this particular situation he was fine with it. He checked his watch and noticed he'd been sitting here for well over two hours. Sighing, he picked up his finger drum solo where it left off.
One of the cops finally remembered him enough to bring him a soda. He thanked the man and took a sip, slouching even farther down into the chair.
"Peter." He quickly straightened up at the sound of his name. "Your father's here."
"Thanks for the warning," he answered, grinning. And he was very thankful because it gave him a good ten seconds to brace himself. The man stomped his way over to his son looking like he was doing everything he could to not explode on the spot.
"I am very disappointed in you, young man," he announced. "What did you do this time?"
"Nothing," the boy shrugged, sipping his soda.
"Nothing?" Arthur repeated, and it was amazing how much annoyance and rage could be piled onto a single word. "The police called me in my office telling me you're here doing nothing?"
"Yep," Peter answered. "Great system, huh?"
"You really expect me to believe that?" The older man's voice was getting louder at an alarming rate. All the cops in the station had their eyes on the father and son duo. "You have been caught skipping school. You sneak into the house hours after your curfew. Your clothes smell like alcohol." After each infraction Arthur's voice grew louder. "Don't you dare sit there lying to me telling me you didn't do anything!!"
"Okay, fine, I did something," Peter admitted, trying to lean as far back in his chair as possible.
"I'm getting tired of this," Arthur sighed, rubbing his eyes wearily. "This is the last time. The last time I bail you out of trouble. The next time you get picked up by the police you're spending the night here. Understand?"
"Yes, sir," the teen responded.
"Good." Arthur took a deep breath. It looked like he was calming down enough to save the rest of his yelling for when they got home. "Get your things. We're leaving."
"Yes, sir." Peter turned to grab his backpack, hiding the smile that formed on his face. His father told him it would be the "last time" once before.