bakerstreet | texts from last night, bitches.

And here I thought forty-eight hour shifts were tough. Your life is hard.

That is an insane amount of hours. You should get some rest before you fall over dramatically in the street, Peter.

I'm planning on it. I have the next two days off. [ Though, he's still on-call if there's some kind of nurse shortage, SOB. He never thought he'd say this, but he kind of misses the Wall. ]

[ That's okay, Sylar will probably say it for him, welp. Also! Testing the waters: ]

Do you want to do something, since you're free?

[ Things were weirdly uncomplicated (once they got past the drama/hatred/etc. Actually attempting a friendship. ]

Really?

[ And of course, Peter knows that that was a POINTLESS text to send so he quickly adds ]

I was planning on getting take out from the Chinese place on the corner but I could meet you there? Also, what're you drinking? I might be jealous.

Bourbon. Don't be jealous, it tastes awful.

[ Don't ask, he hopes, biting his lip. Right up until the end of their five year stint together, it was always surprising when Peter did or said something kind, no less in the real world now. ]

You don't have to change your plans, I can pick up the order and meet you. If you want.

Then why drink it?

[ Peter Petrelli, asking questions he knows the answer to. If it was surprising, it was because of everything Sylar put people through. Put Claire through. He has a lot to make up for. But, hey, five years is a long time (and a really clever way of pushing the narrative forward) ]

You can pick up my order.

[ He's more considering it, then shoots off ]

Okay. Petrelli. It should be ready in forty-five minutes. I tip well.

Felt like it.

[ Peter, please. ]

I'll be there. Was your day really that tiring?

My two days? Pretty tiring. But, they weren't bad. I didn't lose any patience. That's something to be thankful for.

You have a lot of patience, Peter.

Autocorrect. Patients. But, I didn't lose any patience, either. How was your day?

Well, I'm glad you lost neither. :) My day was uneventful.

[ Shitshitshit. ]

[ Sylar, you use emoticons? ]

Boring?

[ Don't drop down dead in shock, Peter, that would be too great an irony. ]

Yes. I'm looking forward to hanging out. What do you want to do? Channel surf? If you fall asleep I'll lock up and leave, it's no problem.

[ If Peter ever dies, it will be by Sylar's hands. And by now, that's NOT going to happen. So, you're safe from the irony. ]

We can channel surf. You can stay if you want.

[ And now he's inviting Sylar to stay when nothing has happened yet. Not that something is going to happen. Besides Peter falling asleep. After eating, at some point that will happen. ]

If I fall asleep.

[ Well, now it just sounds like he can't stay if Peter stays awake. Things are just weird. And kind of weirdly nice-friendly. But, weird. ]

I don't think you're going to rob me blind.

[ PETER IS SO CONFUSING. ]

If I rob you it won't be because what I want is in your house.

[ ... Shit, that didn't translate very well via text. ]

That was a joke.

I'm not going to steal anything. Obviously. Maybe your rice.

[ SPEAK FOR YOURSELF. HE IS ALSO TIRED AND EQUALLY CONFUSED. Out loud, he hasn't mentioned anything has changed. Or, that anything matters. Sylar still killed Nathan. And did worse. A lot worse. He may never get over that. But, they still spent five years and he still gave Sylar that present. ]

We can share the rice. I like rice.

[ And now he can't help rib him. ]

So, as a joke, does that mean what you want isn't in my house?

Let's just go with that.

[ Before I ruin this. Just being invited over is a huge deal. ]

I like rice too. [ And now he rolls his eyes because I sound like an idiot. Pick a safe topic and run with it. ] Are you allergic to anything?

[ Maybe Peter's judgment is insanely bad. Maybe he's tired. Maybe he misses having actual friends. Maybe he doesn't even want Sylar as a friend. Could never accept him as one. Maybe he's just tired of hating him.

Also, everyone likes rice. ]

No, I'm not. I'll pick up some beer. What do you like?

[ Peter, still trying to be a caretaker. Here, guy who killed my brother, took my niece's pain away after terrorizing her... ]

[ He doesn't have any adequate words to describe how dependant he became on Peter inside the Wall, nor how much it meant to him that he didn't take that sledgehammer up and do serious damage. He would have deserved it. ]

Corona. It tastes like nothing, so it's easy to keep down.

[ Deserve it or not, that's not who Peter is. ]

Especially with what you've already imbibed?

[ Are these drunk texts? ]

I've had a lot of coffee during the interim, probably will on the way over too.

[ These are Got Mildly Tipsy And Stopped Short texts. He likes knowing his own mind. ]

If something comes up, tell me. We can reschedule. It's fine.

[ Peter likes knowing his mind, too. Wait, what. Ignore the brackets, Sylar! ]

Nothing's going to come up.

[ He has no life. ]

[ IGNORING. ]

If it does, though. That's okay.

[ Already anticipating being brushed off because, sadly, that happened a lot even when he was a simple watchmaker. There was no one who found him interesting (the remembers precisely how to fix a noose's knot so it won't loosen) and now he has a ton of extra insecurities on top of that. ]

I'll be over shortly.

[ He thinks of typing if Sylar actually wants to. But, he decides against it. He reassures him again. ]

It's not going to. You know where I live.

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