With dinner on it's way to being served, the Petrelli house is full of Christmas music, Angela's gaudy decorations (the angel on top of the tree looks suspiciously like Nathan- halo and all), and tense looks from everyone dishing out at the main dining table.

Peter, poised prettily on his pathetic perch of plastic... pouts. "Man, I can't believe I'm stuck at the kids' table again this year!" He slams his fist down on the brightly colored Little Tykes picnic bench to emphasize his point, sending a slab of roast beef off the paper plate and onto his nephew Simon (or is that one Monty?).

"Uncle Peter, what the Hell!?" Simon or Monty complains. "This sweater vest was like two hundred dollars. My mom is gonna kill me."

His brother smiles, resembling his dear ol' gramps. "I could only be so lucky, Monty."

"Shut up, Simon."

"You shut up."

"No, you."

"No. You."

"Both of you shut up." Peter suggests.

"I think Uncle Peter should shut up." Simon says, regarding his brother. "Forever."

"I agree." Monty nods. "Truce?"

"Truce." And just like that, Nathan's children return to eerie silence.

At the Big People Table, Arthur cannot wipe the smile off his face. "Boy, oh boy. I can't wait to see how your kids turn out! They'd be so pretty. And talented."

Elle frowns slightly. "We're not planning on having kids-"

Gabriel adds quickly "Yet. We're not planning on having kids yet." He ignores the electric jolt delivered to him by his new wife, squeezing her thigh as she does so. "Mrs. Gray and I haven't really discussed that subject yet."

"Yes we have, baby. I remember telling you I'd rather kick children to the side than have children as sidekicks." Elle remembers. "It was when we had that romantic jaunt through the Midwest. Before we did it."

"Ugh." Claire says, dropping her fork. "Why have the last seven stories you've told ended in doing it?"

"Why do all your stories end in 'if my daddy loved me more', Pom-pom?" Elle spits, sparking Claire's fork.

"Yours did too until you were getting laid every two minutes by your zombie husband." Claire says quietly. "Pass the rolls." She adds, an after thought.

"I never ate any brains." Sylar nearly shouts. "And if you want the rolls come get them." He holds the basket of rolls over his head, daring Claire.

"You can't talk to my daughter like that." Nathan says, standing up from his chair. Peter eyes his older brother's seat, wondering if anyone will notice if he steals Nathan's spot. The Big People Table is so close... yet so far away!

"Or what?" Elle says, also standing up. Electricity crackles at her fingertips. "You gonna float at him?" She zaps Nathan's shiny American flag lapel pin.

Two chairs open now! Peter could sit at the Big People Table AND put his feet up! This could very well be the Best Christmas Ever. He begins to stand up as well.

"Well, it is one ability I don't have yet..." Sylar says, curiosity sparking. He raises his finger in the air at Nathan.

"KIDS!" Everyone at the table turns to face the Petrelli matriarch. Angela eyes her mutant family a moment before continuing. "No more powers at the table or I will get the Haitian in here so fast, your heads will spin. Elle, don't even look at my handsome boy the wrong way again or it's curtains for you. Nathan, don't risk dying a stupid death on Christmas. And Peter, SIT DOWN."

"Claire started it" Elle mutters before sipping some water.

A temporary silence falls over the dining room. The doorbell extinguishes the momentary peace.

"Get the door, Peter." Arthur says. It's not a question.

Peter dramatically rolls his eyes and makes a huge production of removing himself from the plastic table, then sulks to the front door. He is almost relieved to see Mohinder. Sure, Mohinder was never Peter's favorite person (that spot is reserved for his hot cousin) but he was certainly nicer to Peter than most of his family.

"Merry Christmas, Mohinder." Peter says, opening his arms in desperate need of a hug. It's been such a trying day.

"Um." Mohinder awkwardly puts his arms around Peter, quickly removes himself. "Happy... Consumerism-based Holiday to you, too. I've brought dessert."

"Oooh, pie." Peter says, leading the way to the dining room. "It's Mohinder. He brought dessert."

"Oh dear." Mohinder says, noticing the extended Petrelli family. "Looks as if there is no room for me. Perhaps I should just drop this pie off and go."

"Don't be silly, Suresh!" Arthur booms. "Peter, get Dr. Suresh a spare chair from the closet. Everybody make room for the doctor to sit down."

Peter's jaw drops. "Why couldn't you just make room for me?! How come I had to sit at the Kid's Table with the Omen twins??"

"Mary-Kate and Ashley?!" Claire says, looking around excitedly.

"Peter, stop whining. You're a boy after all." Angela suggests.

Peter folds his arms across his chest and decides that if he ever gets his powers back, this family is going to die.

=-=-=-=-=-

Next Time...

Presents!

Bizarre mistletoe confessions!

PIE!

...See you then.