A/N: This was written for my dear friend Heidi on her birthday. Happy birthday, Heidi! Pelle. Spoilers through Four Months Ago. One-shot.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Her Peter
Elle will admit she's at least a little sadistic. She always sought out masochistic types – people like Peter. Sure, he didn't seem to enjoy physical pain, but he was one of those guys. Those guys who try to fix everything – take the world on and make everything right. Those guys who have to save everyone – do anything to save them, uncaring if they hurt themselves in the process. Fuck self-mutilators, those people were the real masochists. They'll hurt themselves continuously and won't even realize it because it's who they are. It's what they do. And it's what they have to do.
Elle walked into Peter's room. It was his third week there, and their relationship was developing. She was so proud of him. He was slowly beginning to appreciate her sadism and finding his inner masochism. He always was one of those guys. He was enjoying her shocks, and she could tell. She smiled at him then, and handed him his pills, stroking him on his back. Her pet. Her Peter. She shocked him on the back of his neck quickly – a short jolt for good measure, and he jumped in his seat slightly. There is no cringe on his face, as she suspected.
"I told you that you'd start to like it, Peter." Elle cocked her head slightly and grinned.
Peter chuckled, but didn't deny her words. He still held the cup of pills in his hand.
"You afraid of us controlling you, pet?" she tousled his hair and motioned to the medicine.
Peter smirked, "It doesn't help to reduce my fears when you call me pet."
"Oh, but that's what you are." She smiled with her lips pressed together. "You're my pet. And my Peter." She caressed his cheek with her thumb, leaving a trail of shocks in her midst.
"Your Peter?" he asked defensively.
She nodded. "You'll learn in time, pet. You're my Peter."
"Well, when am I going to stop being your Peter? When am I going to get out of here?"
The smile was wiped off Elle's face. She in a dangerous voice, "Take your medicine, Peter."
He grudgingly did as he was told, and she left the room, casting one last glance at him.
My Peter, she thought. My Peter.
R&R please!!!