Thank you for the kind reviews. :)

Steve entered the Rovers, happy to be done his shifts with Streetcars for the night. His eyes locked on the bookie, hunched over a glass of lemonade on the far end of the bar. Steve stepped behind the bar and walked over to Peter, leaning casually on the wall behind him and folding his arms.

"Didn't expect to see you in here tonight, mate," Steve's voice roused Peter from his thoughts, raising his head to look at his friend, "thought you and Carla had plans?" he raised and lowered his eyebrows in a knowing manner.

Peter rolled his eyes, "yeah, didn't exactly go to plan, that," he muttered as he took another sip of his lemonade.

"Yeah, I figured as much when I saw her leaving your flat and walking off towards hers in a huff." Peter nodded sadly, "I did offer her a lift but she said she needed the fresh air." At the bookie's silence, Steve continued on, attempting to lighten the mood, "I mean I 'ave to be honest I thought she would 'ave bitten me hand off for a lift. I don't know how she can walk in those heels she's got on without toppling over, but it must be some sort of superpower, I reckon. I think that woman walks better in heels than most of us do in flats, am I right?"

Peter smiled in spite of himself, his thoughts now carrying back to Carla and how she was always just that bit taller than him when in her sky high heels. And Steve was right, he couldn't remember a time where she ever slipped or stumbled, even on those dreaded cobblestones.

Steve leaned on his elbows on the bar, "wanna talk about it?"

Peter turned his glass slightly, before meeting the pubowner's gaze, "you ever think you know someone, Steve? Like you think you've got them all pegged out and then you just...I dunno, end up completely off the mark?"

Steve didn't respond, but just stared at Peter in stunned silence. They continued to look at each other until Peter broke eye contact for a few seconds, his eyes glancing around the pub uncomfortably before turning back to the man leaning close to him, until the bookie couldn't take the awkwardness anymore, "What?"

"Have you even met me?!" Steve raised his voice to an almost comical pitch as he pushed himself up off his elbows to an upright position, "you're talking to the man who keeps thinking he understands the women he marries only to wind up more confused about them then when he was actually dating them! How many times, Peter? How many times have I been married? Come on, tell me!"

"Uhhhh" Peter grunted out awkwardly

"Come on man! How many times?"

"Twice?" Peter responded

"Twi-Twice!" Steve sputtered out incredulously, "Try four! Four flaming times, Barlow! Four! Vicky, Karen, Karen again, and Becky." He counted each one off on his fingers.

"Yeah, well I'm on marriage number 4 too, Steve." Peter muttered drinking some more of his lemonade.

Steve pondered this for a moment, "Well, yeah, but you are that much older than me...and one of your marriages was a bit more of a two for one..."

Peter glared at Steve, until the younger man cleared his throat, "So come on, what happened with you and Carla?"

Peter sighed, "I'd rather not get into the nitty gritty details right now, Steve to be honest with you." he said rubbing his forehead, before getting an idea, "Hey, is Lloyd still at the cabbies?"

"Yeah, why?"

Peter took out his phone, "I'm going to see if he can get me a cab to Carla's flat."

"What? Now?"

"Yeah, I gotta apologize and I'd rather do it now."

"It's past eleven, mate. And besides, I don't think she'd be back yet." Steve responded

"Back?" Peter asked in surprise, "From where?"

"She called for a cab around nine. She was going to some last-minute business mixer." He watched as Peter's face fell in disappointment as he put his phone back in his jacket pocket. "Perhaps it's better to wait until tomorrow any way. Let the dust settle, you know?"

"Fine," Peter sighed, finishing the rest of his lemonade, "yeah, you're probably right," But as he rose to his feet he felt his phone buzzing. He glanced at the clock, wondering who would be calling him at this hour. Taking his mobile out of his jacket, he felt his stomach flip as the name Carla Connor flashed up on the screen. Giving Steve a 'one moment' signal with his finger, Peter pressed the answer button, "Carla?" he asked, sounding surprised.

"Why did you invite me over?" she slurred. 'Well I guess she is out hitting the bottle then,' he thought and frowned. 'Business mixer, my eye! Why did she have to get into this state?' he worried angrily as as he stepped outside the Rovers.

"Carla, are you okay? You sound strange." 'Is she on her own? Should I go get her?'

"I'm not the strange one here Barlow, you are." She accused him slurring once again. Strange? How have I come off strange?

"Carla, have you been drinking?"

"What's it to you?" That's a yes, then.

"I'm- curious is all. Where are you?" I need to go and get her. Fix this mess I've made of things.

"In a p-pub."

"Which one?" He breathes frustratingly. Give me an honest answer Connor, or when I find you so help me…

"A pub in town,"

'You smart-mouthed little...!' "How are you getting home?"

"I'll find a way." She breathed, "Might just pour meself into a cab after all, what do you reckon?"

Peter sighed. Just like the entire evening, this conversation was not going exactly to plan. Just keep her talking…

"What pub are you in? Which town?"

"Why did you invite me over to yours for dinner, Peter?"

"Carla, just tell me where are you, dammit!" his temper began to kick in full swing. 'I need to know where the hell she is,' he thought angrily, 'I just need her to be okay.' For fuck sake, Carla!

She giggles, "You're so… domineering," she giggles once more, and he couldn't help the smirk tugging at his lips, 'I do love that sound' he thought closing his brown eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, before remembering the situation. Feeling powerless to help her, he felt the rage rise up in him again

"Carla, so help me, where the fuck are you?" He nearly shouted down the phone, glancing up to see that Steve had come outside.

She continued to giggle, and he felt a pleasurable twitch in his jeans. "I'm in Didsbury… s'long way from Weatherfield." Oh not as far as you want it to be, love.

"Where in Didsbury?" he repeated once more, trying to control himself from shouting into the phone and causing a scene.

"Bye Pe'er."

"Carla!" he exclaimed, but she has already hung up. FUCK! He looked at the screen, desperately hoping it would tell him where she was but to no avail.

"I know where she is," Steve said, "Or at least I know where I dropped her off."

"Are you serious?" Peter asked hopefully

"Well like I said I know where I dropped her off, but whether she's still there or not," he shrugged his shoulders apologetically

"Can you take me there?" he asked, zipping up his jacket at Steve's nod. They quickly made their way across the cobbles, as fast as Peter's healing leg would let him

He climbed into the passenger seat of the car, taking out his phone and redialing the last number hurriedly.

Answer Carla, answer.

"Hel-hello?" she answered sounding almost confused.

"I'm coming to get you," Peter stated firmly before hanging up as Steve revved the engine and sped off down the road.