A Bar in Brighton
No in FRiNGEment intended.
Note: set after AbilitY. What if?
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Peter was nursing his drink, his back to the counter, facing the room. It was the usual crowd one could expect from an average bar especially at this time of day. But tonight it felt different. Though it was as artificial as it had ever been, Peter felt more alive.
He chuckled, eliciting a questioning stare from the guy next to him and he waves an apologizing hand at him before it gets into something nasty or inappropriate. He turned around to the bar tender, threw some change on the counter and walked out from the bar more briskly that he initially intended to. Once on the sidewalk, he took a deep breath. The air was cooler than when he went inside, and the city sounds were fewer. He checked his watch.
He had been expecting that she would call him and ask where he was and accept his previous offer. She knew that this offer would still stand and in his book she was more than entitled to change her mind after the extraordinary outcome of the evening.
After what she had been through, he could not believe that he actually had the nerves to tease her about her drinking habits. To be honest, as far as he knew, his blunder could be the reason why she had not taken him up on his offer.
After grilling Jones, she was probably already back from Boston General by now. He tightened his scarf, shoved his hands in his pockets and started to walk. Slowly at first, then he quickened his pace and gained momentum.
Who was he trying to fool?
Even if he masqueraded his invitation as a private joke, he had deliberately asked her out for a drink and she had simply turned him down. And that was all there was to it. End of the story.
Still, he was expecting her to call.
That's exactly why he chose to have a few drinks in that particular bar in Brighton. So that he could drop by at her place if she ultimately didn't call. A guy has to have a back up plan. Now that he had had those few drinks, the logic of his reasoning didn't seem as flawed as two hours before and he felt great.
He smiled to himself. He was going to surprise her.
It won't be the first time that he'll show up at her place unannounced and tipsy, he muses, chuckling again. He was drunk, most definitely drunk. Well, she'll have to bear with him. He was in the mood for some company.
Hopefully, she'll be home and having a drink all by herself and would eventually be eager to share her success with a familiar face.
Hopefully, her sister and Ella won't be around or will be back to Philly or visiting some friends. Or she would have to make them disappear as soon as he'd knock on her door. That's why magic powers were for, for crying out loud.
He was not prepared to making small talk with Olivia's new found brood. He was in the mood for some company, as long as it was exclusive.
He almost ran past her building and walked back, paced for a few seconds in front of her place and finally trotted up her stairs and rapped on her door. His chin sank to his chest while he was rocking on his heels waiting for her to open the door, his head almost in contact with the glass panel.
Maybe she was in the shower or on the phone. He pressed the bell button. He was beginning to feel like an intruder.
He eventually lost track of time, stuck before her front door, his mind hazed by alcohol. When he finally went back to his senses, he took a step away from the door, and tried to spot a light inside the apartment.
He shrugged, tucking on his coat lapels and jogged down the stairs with a last glance to the dark windows and headed back to the main street to catch a cab back to his hotel.
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