Make It Through - Heroes - Peter/Mohinder
Title: Make It Through
Pairing: Peter/Mohinder
Word Count: 578
Rating: PG
A/N: A 15 minute fic for sarisia, with the prompt 'extraordinary things'. Possible S2 spoilers.
Summary: If he plays his cards right, they could be happy.
When Mohinder looks at him, Peter doesn't feel like a nurse any more.
For that matter, he doesn't feel like a superhero either - or Nathan's little brother - or 'a Petrelli' with everything that that entails. He doesn't have a world of expectations on his shoulders nor a ready-made mould to slip into.
When Mohinder looks at him, he's not looking at any of that. He's looking at Peter.
And it's scary and it's frightening because Peter still isn't 100% sure who 'Peter' is yet and if Mohinder's looking at something that doesn't exist then that means he's looking at nothing at all and that's- Well, that makes him pretty fucking crazy.
"Stop worrying," Mohinder whispers. He whispers and it's soft, so soft. Beautiful. Peter isn't used to beautiful things in his life, not like this. Not anything real. "You're making me nervous." His soft fingers brush over Peter's jaw, barely a touch at all. It's like feeling a ghost against his skin.
No, not a ghost. An angel.
Jesus Christ, Peter thinks, because the Christmas fever is clearly starting to get to him. It makes him glad that Mohinder is thankfully lacking Matt's telepathy: if he heard Peter comparing him to an angel, it's likely that Peter would never hear the end of it.
"Sorry," he whispers back, leaning into that ghost-soft touch. "It's just- It's…" He doesn't know what 'it' is and he isn't sure if he wants to, isn't sure if he can handle it. It's too much and it's too new and it's too… too real, isn't it?
"I know, "Mohinder reassures him as he steps closer; it's a movement that should seem predatory or dangerous, but isn't at all. This is Mohinder. Even though, on some level, Peter knows that Mohinder's capable of defending himself and isn't afraid to fire a gun if he needs to, the man has 'mild-mannered scientist' written all over him. Nothing threatening. Moments later there are snow-cold hands against his hips, cold enough that he can feel the temperature even though the material of his clothes. "If you don't want this- I know it isn't a good time. I know it's stupid and foolish and that you're having to deal with what happened-"
"Don't," Peter interrupts. He can't hear the end of that sentence, can't deal with Mohinder mentioning Nathan. Not right now, probably not ever. If he hides from it for long enough that means it isn't real and isn't happening. The cold around him seems to have invaded his chest - his heart - and the only thing he can do is shuffle closer, head rest against Mohinder's strong shoulder. "Just don't. I want this. You. I do, I swear. It's just-"
"Complicated?" Mohinder suggests, and though Peter's sure that they ought to stop interrupting each other soon he nods. Yeah, it's 'complicated', just like everything else in his life.
This thing - this tangled, eager, neediness they have - has one clear distinction from the other complicated things in his life, though: it's special. It isn't broken, it isn't twisted, it isn't headed for disaster. With Mohinder, if he plays his cards right, he could be happy. They could be happy. If he plays his cards right, they could make it through the screwed-up years that are to come.
And together?
Peter holds Mohinder closer, carefully of the strength his borrowed powers give him access to, and breathes in deeply: together, he knows they're going to be fucking extraordinary.
Pairing: Peter/Mohinder
Word Count: 578
Rating: PG
A/N: A 15 minute fic for sarisia, with the prompt 'extraordinary things'. Possible S2 spoilers.
Summary: If he plays his cards right, they could be happy.
When Mohinder looks at him, Peter doesn't feel like a nurse any more.
For that matter, he doesn't feel like a superhero either - or Nathan's little brother - or 'a Petrelli' with everything that that entails. He doesn't have a world of expectations on his shoulders nor a ready-made mould to slip into.
When Mohinder looks at him, he's not looking at any of that. He's looking at Peter.
And it's scary and it's frightening because Peter still isn't 100% sure who 'Peter' is yet and if Mohinder's looking at something that doesn't exist then that means he's looking at nothing at all and that's- Well, that makes him pretty fucking crazy.
"Stop worrying," Mohinder whispers. He whispers and it's soft, so soft. Beautiful. Peter isn't used to beautiful things in his life, not like this. Not anything real. "You're making me nervous." His soft fingers brush over Peter's jaw, barely a touch at all. It's like feeling a ghost against his skin.
No, not a ghost. An angel.
Jesus Christ, Peter thinks, because the Christmas fever is clearly starting to get to him. It makes him glad that Mohinder is thankfully lacking Matt's telepathy: if he heard Peter comparing him to an angel, it's likely that Peter would never hear the end of it.
"Sorry," he whispers back, leaning into that ghost-soft touch. "It's just- It's…" He doesn't know what 'it' is and he isn't sure if he wants to, isn't sure if he can handle it. It's too much and it's too new and it's too… too real, isn't it?
"I know, "Mohinder reassures him as he steps closer; it's a movement that should seem predatory or dangerous, but isn't at all. This is Mohinder. Even though, on some level, Peter knows that Mohinder's capable of defending himself and isn't afraid to fire a gun if he needs to, the man has 'mild-mannered scientist' written all over him. Nothing threatening. Moments later there are snow-cold hands against his hips, cold enough that he can feel the temperature even though the material of his clothes. "If you don't want this- I know it isn't a good time. I know it's stupid and foolish and that you're having to deal with what happened-"
"Don't," Peter interrupts. He can't hear the end of that sentence, can't deal with Mohinder mentioning Nathan. Not right now, probably not ever. If he hides from it for long enough that means it isn't real and isn't happening. The cold around him seems to have invaded his chest - his heart - and the only thing he can do is shuffle closer, head rest against Mohinder's strong shoulder. "Just don't. I want this. You. I do, I swear. It's just-"
"Complicated?" Mohinder suggests, and though Peter's sure that they ought to stop interrupting each other soon he nods. Yeah, it's 'complicated', just like everything else in his life.
This thing - this tangled, eager, neediness they have - has one clear distinction from the other complicated things in his life, though: it's special. It isn't broken, it isn't twisted, it isn't headed for disaster. With Mohinder, if he plays his cards right, he could be happy. They could be happy. If he plays his cards right, they could make it through the screwed-up years that are to come.
And together?
Peter holds Mohinder closer, carefully of the strength his borrowed powers give him access to, and breathes in deeply: together, he knows they're going to be fucking extraordinary.