Title: Backseat Driver
Category: Family/Humor
Setting: Pre-Season 1.
Author's Note: As insensitive as it sounds, this fic was inspired by the NBC web comic "Requiem for My Brother". It shouldn't be taken too seriously, but reviews and constructive criticism are still very welcome.
Backseat driver, definition by Wiktionary:
1. A person sitting in the back-seat of a car issuing (unsolicited and usually unwanted) instructions to the driver.
2. (figuratively) An opinionated person who offers (unsolicited and often unwanted) advice on the best way to handle a situation.
"Kindness isn't rewarding," Nathan groused as he closed the street door with an unintentionally brusque slam. "Be nice, and get candy for Christmas. Eat it, and get a dentist's appointment. You yourself are a living proof of that".
"Just cry 'humbug' and be done with it." Uncharacteristically sullen due to his aching tooth and swollen cheek, Peter slouched after him up the stairs to the third floor.
"Don't I wish. Jeez, why does a grown up man-"
"Dental fear, remember?" Peter sure did. In 1985, Mr and Mrs Petrelli took their toddler son to see the dentist, all the while reassuring him with forced smiles that 'this won't hurt one bit'. But their assurances quickly came to nought when the dentist spotted calcalus, grabbed a scaler and began scraping away at Peter's teeth. Even two decades later he could recall the stab of horror at this, and how the sticker reading 'Brave New Patient' he received afterwards did little to soothe the gnawing smart in his mouth.
Still, he didn't blame his parents. His brother had hardly meant anything but trouble-free routine-exams to them, so of course they expected the same thing of him. Unbeknownst to them, though, Nathan was also the one to lay the foundations of Peter's sweet tooth; the guy namely had a habit of buying his little brother a cherry ice cream for every game won by his school's baseball team.
A particularly persistent prickle in Peter's mouth cut off the reminiscing, and he groaned. "Fancy having regenerative powers, like Wolverine."
They reached the top of the stairs. Ahead of them were the glass doors to Dr Malm's office.
"We've been through this before: I don't need any."
"Yeah, because the shark you are, you've just got endless rows of spare teeth at hand."
"Ouch, touche." Pretending to stagger backwards, Nathan put one hand to his chest and pulled the door open with the other in the same move. "Now get inside, I've got a meeting with a client in an hour."
"Hmf. If I had known they'd make us wait this long, I'd had another cup of coffee."
Peter heard the words, but didn't register their meaning as his clammy fingers skimmed through one of the gossip mags in the waiting room. Celebrities in awkward situations slid past his visual field from right to left, but they could've been porn stars and he still would've been too nervous to notice. After staring at the wall clock for a good while, he finally comprehended that they'd been waiting for nearly a quarter past appointed time. He turned to his brother.
"Hey, if you've got to leave for work, it's okay with-"
"And give you a perfect opportunity to get away from here?" Nathan crossed his arms doggedly. "Like hell I will. Not after all the trouble it took to get you here."
Oh well, it was worth a shot, Peter thought and fell into a restless thumb-fiddling.
Eventually the door opened and previous patient, a little girl, strode out. In her hand a pinwheel twirled, streaky like tooth paste in the air draft - a small gift for a first time patient.
Peter stood up on shaky legs, and crossed the room to meet Dr Malm - a woman in her fifties with the kind face of a daycare teacher but the skilled grip of a surgeon. The kind of dentist an odontophobic person could feel almost comfortable around.
In the doorway, though, he came face to face with a yellow-haired, thirty-something man in glasses and white coat. Another dentist, by the look of it.
"Peter Petrelli?" He asked, reading from a clipboard. Somewhat bewildered, Peter acknowledged this. "Good, you're next. Follow me."
"Wait," Nathan demanded in an authoritative voice as he approached the two by the door. "Is Irene Malm here today?"
The dentist straightened his glasses with a hurried twitch of the hand. "Dr Malm called in sick with a bad flu this morning. I'm sorry about any problems this may cause, it's been busy here today."
"Oh. That was unfortunate," Peter said sincerely. "I hope she'll get well soon."
"Likewise. It gets quite tough to be the only one in charge on a day like this."
"Maybe we could come back another day," Nathan unexpectedly suggested, "when Dr Malm is here."
"That wont be necessary," the dentist hastily informed him. "I'm her subordinate, Francis Neumann."
"Really?" Nathan sounded pleasantly surprised. "That's good to hear. And you've been her assistant for how long, then?"
The tone was as innocent and easy-going as the intention behind it was insidious; it was all about the assessment of Francis Neumann's status. But the man must've been asked this question so often lately that the answer came well-nigh automatically, bypassing thought:
"Three months. It's a crying need for dentists these days, so I got a job right away after graduation." There was a pause in their conversation. Looking between the brothers, Neumann rolled his shoulders slowly. He gestured towards the treatment room.
"So, shall we begin?"
Peter shrugged, "I suppose so." It was not like there were any good excuses left. To take the bull by the horns seemed like the right thing to do.
Neumann nodded and turned to go inside. "Please come in, take a seat while I get everything in order."
"Are you sure about this?" The older Petrelli asked in a low voice, halting his brother in the doorway. "I thought you wanted to see Dr Malm."
"Absolutely positive. I don't care who gets this sucker quiet" - Peter pointed at his swollen cheek -"as long as it's done before lunchtime."
"...All right." Nathan let go after a hesitant pause. But as Peter entered the treatment room, he could hear him mutter: "Looks quite young for being a dentist, though."
But by the foot end of the dentist chair, Peter balked, his gorge rising at the sight of this modern day torture device.
"Make yourself comfortable," Neumann called from the small lavatory where he was scrubbing in for the procedure. "I'll be there in a minute!"
"You've got second thoughts?" Nathan walked into the room. Peter turned his back at the chair.
"Naa, it's okay. Just need a moment to pull myself together."
"Relax." A hand meant to reassure him landed on his shoulder. "Don't lose your cool, keep your eyes fixed on the ceiling if that helps."
Despite the tooth ache and the impending treatment, Peter had to smile a little. Used to that people listened when he spoke, his brother could clearly not resist chiming in with advice at all odd times of the day.
The sound of rustling paper towels from the lavatory indicated that Neumann was done washing. With a wink and a quick "good luck", Nathan promptly pressed Peter down into the chair.
"Hey, what was that for?"
"Else you would've stood there all day." Nathan pulled one of the staff's chairs closer and sat down in it as if being just at home. "Now, do you want me to hold your hand, or just stand by?"
"Here goes." Neumann adjusted his face mask and pulled the working light closer. Peter peered against the stark shine. "Whoops, almost forgot-" From his breast pocket, the dentist extracted a pair of shades that he apologetically placed over his patient's eyes.
"You look smart, man," Nathan remarked from diagonally behind Peter. The younger Petrelli gave a vague thumbs-up, as Neumann spread out a disposable paper bib below his chin and picked out a small, round mirror from the tray of instruments.
"Open up - a little more, thank you. Now, in Dr Malm's notes it says that you suffer from mild dental fear, and have asked to bring someone along as a moral support-"
"That's correct," Nathan replied in his brother's place. "Don't know how much moral he's hoping to wring out of a lawyer, though."
The dentist chuckled at the joke, albeit perhaps a tad forcedly. It was peculiar, but people often seemed to tense up a bit when the older Petrelli's profession came up. Blame it on our suing-culture, Peter thought fleetingly. They think he's gonna file a lawsuit against them on the spot.
Then Neumann tilted the mouth mirror, and all laughter wrinkles, real or faked, straightened out.
"Oh my, that one does look bothersome. Cavity in four-three-"
"But that's ordinary fare for you, right?" Nathan interjected. When he suddenly leaned forward, Peter noticed a slight tension in his jawline. "I mean, you've fixed problems like this one before, right?"
"Well, a couple of times at least I reckon." With eyes trained on the bothersome tooth, Neumann reached for a needle from the tray beside him. "Do you want to be numbed?"
Peter nodded stiffly, still gaping, anxiety no further away than the nerves under his skin. The dentist filled a syringe, and leant forward to give the shot.
"Doc, you should give a lot more anaesthetic, if you want to operate anytime soon."
Since both men were leaning almost brow to brow over the dentist chair, only Peter could witness the transient, shortstopped look that passed over Neumann's face at this comment. In next second it was gone, and he responded with an amused laugh.
"Hah hah, maybe that is so, Mr Petrelli, but I'm afraid anymore of this would put down an elephant." He resumed administering the local anesthetic during a resettled, but somewhat ruffled calm. Peter squeezed his eyes shut behind the shades, waiting for the nerve-twisting sting of the needle, when he suddenly felt the dentist grab hold of his cheek and shake it lightly. His eyes shot open, as a baffled "huh?" escaped him.
"Sorry to disturb you," the dentist gave a slight smile, "but did you felt any prick of the needle?"
Wonder of wonders, that old professional trick among dentists had worked. His tongue was already beginning to fall asleep, about as responsive as a dead fish. For now he could relax in the absence of harrowing pain.
But then the infamous whirr of a drill winding up made his nerves frizzle; Neumann had set to work. Weeeoom! Weeooom! The blade whined over the enamel. He placed a plastic nozzle next to it, and a veneer of water drops soon covered Peter's tongue. It was a precautionary measure, to stop the drill head from overheating and burning his gums.
Apparently the dentist knew what he was doing, filing away the decayed tooth with a self-assertive look in his eyes. Yet it didn't hinder Peter from gripping the arm supports, ready to catapult out of the chair at first hint of pain - it was simply a conditional reflex. Waiting with bated breath, he counted the seconds until the shrill noise would stop.
"Careful there doc, he's got a filling a bit to the left."
For a split, dreadful second it seemed like the dentist really would slip with the drill and pierce his patient's tongue. At the last moment he recovered, forcing his hand to steady with the smallest flex of the wrist. His Adam's apple bobbed once, as if he had swallowed an acrid reply like "Yes, I read it in his file!"
"Really? Gosh, I didn't notice." Blinking twice, Neumann went back to drilling again. Peter settled, although not quite relaxed neither physically nor mentally. Maybe it was a good thing that people were suspicious against lawyers in general and Nathan in particular, because the trust issues seemed to be mutual. Peter decided that he should have a talk with him about this later.
Dr Neumann appeared at least a little agitated by the situation; a red spot had begun to form on his forehead as he put down the drill and reached for another instrument. Peter took the chance to limber up his tiring jaws - something he shouldn't have done in front of his observant big brother.
"By the way, Pete could probably use one of those, what are they called, bite blocks to help keep his mouth open."
The dentist took a moment to apply some tangy goo to the drilled tooth, before he replied:
"Probably, but it would make it harder for me to reach the cavity. I think he'll have to settle for just keeping his mouth closed while the etching solution is working."
Nathan shrugged, looked down and gave an encouraging smile. In return, Peter shot him a sharp, warning glance - which of course didn't show through the dark shades. Was there any way to kick the man's shins without knocking over an arsenal of instruments?
For a short while the only thing that could be heard was Neumann's toes tapping inside his correct-fitting shoes. Thereafter he aimed the nozzle at the tooth, and had just started to rinse away the solution when a too familiar silhouette cut into the stark light.
"Hey, don't rush it now, even if you're in a hurry. Take time to avoid mistakes."
"Hm, thanks for the tip, but this doesn't need more than twenty seconds to work." Glancing briefly at Nathan, Neumann looked down again and quite demonstratively let the water run just a moment longer. This close, it was easy to spot the nerve twitching vehemently under his left eye. Peter had seen stress-related tics before, in E.R night staff during his nurse education.
The preparation of the dental composite followed, and he thought he could really see the professional joy in the dentist as he stirred the mix like a 15th century artist blending egg tempera, and then leaned forward to paint it on the tooth with swift brush strokes.
"There isn't any allergy-forming stuff in that goo, right?"
Clink. Neumann had dropped the miniscule brush on the tray.
"Mr Petrelli, ever felt that somebody doesn't think you're doing an honest job?"
Nathan blinked, surprised at the off-topic question. "Yes, happens all the time in my line of work. Did I mention that I'm a lawyer?"
"Oh, so you're aware of that yourself. Then why are you lecturing me like another professor from Baltimore Dental College?"
Peter swallowed, sluggishly because of the numbing. It was hard to couple this pointed question with the earlier so timid impression of Francis Neumann. Nathan spread his hands, trying to look clueless.
"I wouldn't say it was lecturing, rather-"
"Call it whatever you want, Mr, but to me that was all blunt bullshit innuendo about my professionalism." The dentist's vinyl-gloved hands trembled as he pointed at the door. "Now get out of here, or get another dentist who's to your liking."
"Doc, are you implying-"
"Get out!" Neumann barked with all his pent-up frustration behind it. "Quit meddling with my work!"
Nathan frowned at him over the dentist chair. Peter silently prayed there wouldn't be a quarrel, much less a fist fight; there were enough teeth that needed fixing as it was. The throwaway paper bib rustled, as he reached out behind him and patted the hand resting on his shoulder.
"C'mon, knock it off. Please."
Albeit still looking like he wanted to punch the dentist, Nathan reluctantly gave in to the plea and stood up. Neumann's sullen stare followed him as he marched out.
"I'll wait in the car."
The door swung shut. Neumann slumped with a shuddering sigh, as if he at last had killed an angry wasp that had been zooming around the room. Only then it apparently dawned upon him what just had happened.
"I'm - so sorry about this. Very sorry, indeed. It's not often I lose my cool like that." He carefully took off the rimless glasses, blinked a few times, put them back on. "Guess he'll want to sue me for this." The man's agonized expression only added to Peter's voluble sympathy for him.
"No, I'm the one who should apologize. I should've asked for laughing gas instead of moral support."
"You're not mad at me?" Neumann's surprise was unmistakable. Peter shook his head.
"Can't find it in me, at least not enough to file a lawsuit. Let's get this tooth fixed, then I'll talk to him." And because it felt wrong to leave the man with a lingering bad impression of Nathan, he added: "My brother can be a nice guy, when the mood strikes."
"Thank you, Mr, it would be very kind of you. I'd appreciate it." Somewhat comforted, yet acting as edgy as if it was a lion's fang he was about to repair, Neumann resettled the face mask he'd pulled down during the heated argument and scooted closer. He picked up a small LED-light and shone it into Peter's mouth for some esoteric reason only dentists knew, before he declared that it was time to start drilling again.
Peter was too focused on what was ahead to even think of possible pain. He was confident that Nathan would listen to him and let the whole thing slip; wouldn't want any extra business upsetting his planned Congress campaign.
Weeeooom; The drill engine screeched to a halt. Peter took the chance to swallow some spit and water. Neumann pulled out the instrument, lifted the tip on a level with his widened eyes.
"Oh no. Oh no,no, shi-"
"Something wrong?" Alerted by the tone, Peter got up on his elbows.
"The drill crown has fallen off," the dentist forced out. "Most likely you swallowed it." He buried his lower face half in a clenching palm, eyes scrunched up in despair. "Why today, of all days? Now your brother definitely has something to build a case on. Gah, Irene won't like this at all..."
Peter was inclined to join in on the misery, too; after all it was in his body the sharp drill crown now crawled around like a mean parasite, just waiting to roll into a lung or tear up a gut. But if he curled up in fetal position now, it would still be there in twenty minutes, and this thought made him sober up enough to gently call on the other man's attention.
"Don't throw in the towel yet. I'm sure that if you just explain the situation to Dr Malm, she'll understand and forgive you. But we'll have to act fast and right." He gave a weak smile, not liking at all what he would have to say next:
"But I'll have to let Nathan know that we're going to the hospital."
At first, Nathan intended to get out and as far away from the dentist's office as possible. But today's newspaper in the waiting room caught his eye, and he decided to sit down and skim it before leaving.
It was far from a soothing read; the first article he laid eyes on began with the ever so ominous 'if there was a congressial election today, the voting would be down with twenty percent since...' On top of this, the baseball results had not come out to his liking. No wonder he threw the paper back onto the table with a curt 'smack'.
"Is something wrong, young man?" The elderly lady in the other chair looked up from her issue of 'Pets and Plants'.
"I'm all right", Nathan muttered, crossing his stretched out legs at the ankles. "But that ungrateful sod in there could use a lesson in behavior."
"How come?"
He sighed, slumping in the chair. "My brother Peter has what he refers to as 'a mild case of dental fear'. He was supposed to be treated by a real veteran in dentistry, Dr Malm, but it turns out she's at home with a clogged nose today." Nathan sat up a little straighter again; he was on a roll, building a case against Neumann.
"Now, the kid replacing her is fresh out of dentist's school, and downright jittery. He's the only staff present to handle several patients on a tight schedule. Doesn't sound much like someone cut out for treating an odontophobic person, does it?"
The woman shook her head, smiling vaguely. "I guess not."
"Exactly. Peter almost chickened out when we got in there. So, with those two nerve wrecks on my hands, I decided to offer some kind and well-meant advice from someone close to the patient. Make things run smoother."
"Oh, so you're also a dentist?"
"A lawyer," Nathan clarified, oblivious to how the woman tensed up, "but I felt it was in my brother's best interest that the dentist had all the information he needed. But did I get any thanks? No, the damn tenderfoot threw me out!" In mock resignation, he added: "They better hand out toys and bubblegums and whatnot to grown-ups as well, because I've really deserved one by now-"
The door swung open, and Peter strode out together with the dentist, looking very worried.
"Nate, I've swallowed a drill crown."
"What?" His gaze instantly narrowed in on Neumann, who was explaining the situation to the lady, but Peter quickly stepped in the way.
"Whatever you're thinking, it wasn't his fault. He's even offered to drive me to the hospital so you won't have to cancel that meeting. Just thought you should know." He gave Nathan's shoulder a quick squeeze, and then hurried after the dentist. "I call you later, okay?"
Five minutes later, when he was back on the street again and watched Francis Neumann and Peter make their way along the street in a beat-up Nissan, Nathan couldn't help but sigh to himself.
"That kid shouldn't be so eager to step on it, they're still inside city limits for Christ's sake..."