It's all in your head, bb (Peter, Charles, maybe Abby)

[father-peter.insanejournal.com]

Peter hated MRIs, he decided. Technically he had decided this several MRIs ago, but he was rudely reminded every time he slid into the vile machine and it beeped viciously at him. Then he would listen to inane music on his iPod for twenty minutes while he tried to ignore the jackhammer-like sound the machine made as it worked.

Still, it was better than as stereotactic biopsy. God he hoped he didn't have to have another one of those.

When it was all over he jumped up and pulled his own clothes on, discarding the hospital gown in the 'used' bin with gusto. The results would take awhile and all he really wanted to do was drink which wasn't entirely helpful.

Instead of giving in to the delicious amber liquid he really wanted, Peter went in search of someone to talk at. Perhaps he could find one of the Littletons who worked at his hospital, or even one of the residents who felt like a chat. Upon entering the residency ward, Peter spotted Charles Allen and lifted a hand in greeting. "Hello, Charles. You're looking well."

Comments

[charlesallen.insanejournal.com]

Charles nodded, a gesture of understanding. "Well, if you have a hundred children and a hospital full of supernatural beings who act like children, I expect you've got a fuckload on your mind." He smirked for a moment, folding the newspaper and tucking it under his arm.

"You should take a leaf from my book, Bossman. No worries, except the morning's headline." It wasn't strictly true, but Charles shrugged.

"So what's up, the teenage one still kicking off?"