darker_london | Peter the singing hero? (Johan, Peter)

"You're a bastard." Peter informed the opened bottle of scotch that was resting on his desk. The bottle ignored his rather impassioned insult, and refused to admit what it had done. Or possibly, Peter was transferring his feelings about himself on to an inanimate object. Yes, it was most likely that. "You don't even taste nice." Peter said as he leaned down on the desk so he was looking up at the level of the liquid while he poked the bottle with his finger. The amber liquid inside danced at his touch and Peter let out a sigh, letting his head roll down so it was resting on the desk. "Stupid addictive bastard."

The thing with running a hospital for demons and angels and all other manner of supernatural creatures, is that you never knew who or what was going to walk through your door at any given moment. At that moment, however, it wasn't someone supernatural at all, but the lover of someone who happened to be a werewolf. It was Johan, Peter's cousin. And finding Peter with his head on his desk wasn't exactly what Johan had expected when he had arrived. "Peter?" He asked softly.

Peter lifted his head and he gave a weak smile in greeting. "Hello, Johan. Everything alright?"

Johan nodded silently. "I just dropped Werner off. He said he needed to change and after last time...well...he didn't want to do it at home and be blamed for another murder. Not that I blame him."

Peter's eyes softened because he knew werewolves didn't live very long and each time Werner changed now that he was 47, it was incredibly taxing on his already worn out body. "I don't blame him either." Peter admitted. "He's all settled in?"

Johan nodded again. "Alastair's downstairs just seeing to that, actually." Johan stepped forward then, letting his body drop into a chair slightly heavily. "He's going to be fine. I came to see you about Liz actually." Johan was from the side of Peter's family that Peter liked to pretend didn't exist. The side that lived in Germany for the most part, so it was easy to do so. Johan wasn't like the rest of them, however. Instead of being involved with organised crime, he was a world famous pianist who played edgy music as well as some of the classics. Peter liked him very much, but he hadn't gotten to know him well until a few months ago when Johan had come to London to help out with Peter's other dear cousin, Devon. Johan didn't know about Peter's problems with alcohol, which was why he hadn't yet commented on the bottle on Peter's desk. Nor had he been there for Liz and Emma's split. He didn't understand the issues involved. "She hasn't been home much and when she is, she's very distracted."

"I'm not surprised." Peter said softly. "You know about Emma..."

"The woman you saved from those religious charlatans?" Johan asked with his eyebrows raised.

For a moment, Peter said nothing and then he closed his eyes and he let himself laugh. "Oh, Johan. That has to be the first time I've heard them called 'charlatans'. But fair enough. Yes, she's the one Caoilfhionn and Deirdre rescued."

"I remember when they attacked the house." Johan leaned forward onto the desk. "They were driven by...God knows what, but it was terrifying. Is Emma alright?"

Peter took a deep breath and he nodded. "She will be. The Templar are good at what they do, and pain is their business. But they don't do it with the intent to kill, at least...not in that instance. She's going to live and she won't be debilitated physically in any way. Beyond scars... I think Liz is struggling with knowing how to react to Emma. Emma and Liz were together a long time. They were a good couple. A strong couple. And then out of nowhere, Emma up and left. She got scared...I understand that. But she left and Liz is hurting. And she knows Emma is hurting now too. And it's hard to reconcile the two, or to find a balance there."

"Of course." Johan dropped his head into his hands and he frowned. "I do wish I could help."

"Liz is the strongest woman I know." Peter said, his voice full of emotion. "She raised me when our parents died. She was seventeen and I was fourteen and she did an incredible job. She'll work it out. But you're right...I wish I could help too."

"I do regret not knowing you both until now." Johan smiled then. "I wish I'd been here for things."

"You're here now." Peter glanced out of the window for a moment before turning back to his cousin. "I can assure you, there's much still to come." Peter winked and then he rested his chin in his hands as well. "How are you with everything?"

"Oh, pottering along. Thank fuck for music, right?"

"Heh...you're absolutely right about that one." Peter grinned.

"You should sing on the album I'm making, Peter. Deirdre let me hear some of your audition for the musical the other day."

That made Peter sit up straight. "Deirdre recorded that?!" His voice was high pitched and squeaky and quite the opposite of normal Peter.

Johan laughed. "You shouldn't be so worried, it was phenomenal. And she told me you were sight reading?"

"Well yes, I...I was...dear God in Heaven. I was a choral master when I was a monk. So I had to be able to sight read and pick chords and harmonise and sing on key and...all that stuff."

"Where did you learn that?"

"I...taught myself?" Peter admitted. "Dad didn't really believe in letting me play an instrument because it was...'poofy' I believe was the term? Anyway...Liz had to learn the piano and she taught me when dad wasn't looking, which was often, because she knew it would piss him off. It was easy for me. And when I became a monk, they needed someone to do the thing and I volunteered. It was that, or work in the bloody garden with Thomas. And I tend to kill plants...plus...yuck, dirt."

Johan snorted, "yes, you are a bit of an indoor lad, aren't you."

"It's more than true..." Peter nodded.

"And pardon me for asking, but are you drinking on the job?" Johan asked, his eyebrows once again raised.

"Not so much drinking as...berating inanimate objects." Peter sighed and he reached out to grab the bottle.

"I see. Well everyone needs to get their frustrations out somehow." Johan leaned back in his chair. "I was being serious about you singing, by the way."

"But I'm not...a singer..."

"Don't be daft, you are." Johan folded his hands into his lap and he grinned proudly. "And you say you're not a hero either, but I think you're one of those too."

"I was just sitting in a room alone, calling a bottle names." Peter shook the bottle around. "That's not exactly hero material."

"Tossycock." Johan shook his head. "Take a look around you, Peter. At this place you bult from scratch. And sing on my album." Johan winked. "I think I'll go buy Liz flowers. Would that bring a smile to her face at the very least?"

Peter smiled and he stood from his spot in the desk chair. "I think it just might. And I'm coming with you. Bottles don't make for very good conversationalists." Peter once again stowed the bottle in his drawer.

"I have always found that to be true." Johan stood as well and he reached out for his cousin's arm. "Come on then, my boy. Tell me about this chorus of yours."

Peter groaned in an amused fashion, but he was quite thankful for the distraction. He could get back to work later. And hopefully his time with Johan would be enough to distract him from that damn scotch.