Heroes - And This Too Shall (Not) Pass - Peter/Nathan, R
This is not what I planned to write today. Typical.
Heroes
Peter/Nathan
Rated R
And This Too Shall (Not) Pass
When Peter Petrelli was six and one-quarter years of age he developed a crush on his nanny, Tanya. Tanya had big brown eyes and soft black hair that she kept pinned up so that it wouldn't end up in Peter's art projects. Tanya wore crystal earrings that caught the sun and cast shadows all over the walls of the kitchen while she cut the crusts off of Peter's sandwiches. Peter liked to try and catch the red reflections before Tanya took him to kindergarten in the morning.
Every afternoon, Tanya was waiting at the gate when Peter was dismissed, and then she would take Peter home and sing him Beatles songs to lure him into his afternoon nap. Tanya filled the hole in his heart when Nathan went off to college.
The day that someone else was waiting by the school gate to pick Peter up was one of the most devastating days of his young life -- right up there with Nathan leaving him.
For months afterwards, Peter begged his mother to tell him where Tanya had gone and when she was coming back and why she hadn't even said good-bye. His mother said he needed to not get so attached to the help. When Nathan came home for summer break, Peter forgot some of his heartache.
Nathan said, "You'll get over it eventually, Pete."
Eventually is a long time when you are six and one-quarter.
When Peter was thirteen he had a crush on a girl named Mindy Collins. She had red hair and freckles across her nose. She played soccer and had twin older brothers that picked her up after school in the family Volvo station wagon. Mindy was tall -- much taller than Peter, who hadn't yet enjoyed the wonders of puberty -- and gangly. She liked to talk to Peter about the books they were reading in English -- The Lord of the Flies and Julius Caesar -- and when he answered wrong in class she would poke him in the back. For a while, Peter's only inducement to do his assignments -- apart from not getting grief from his mother and Nathan -- was to not end up with bruises all over his shoulder blades.
In their gym class, the boys and the girls were divided up, and Peter would watch across the room as Mindy played basketball with the other girls and her braids flew back and forth. Peter never told Mindy how he felt, because really, what would he say? Peter could say anything to anyone, but this was different, because he liked Mindy and he didn't want to mess it up, and he just couldn't think of the right words to say. When he asked Nathan about it, Nathan just patted him on the back.
"Don't think about it, just ask her out," Nathan said. But Peter was a thinker. It was what Peter did. Peter thought about the birds and the bees and where the ducks went when the ponds froze over. Peter thought about being tall like his brother and serving in the Navy and what he would be when he was older. All Peter did was think. Except when he thought about Mindy he got flustered and confused.
So, he thought and he thought, and one day he came to school and sat down in at his desk in English and Mindy never came. She didn't come the next day either. Or the day after that.
Mindy taught Peter not to wait, because if he did, it would be too late.
When Peter was sixteen, his locker was next to a boy named Danny Ryan. Danny had black hair that flopped over one eye and sharp blue eyes that Peter could feel on the back of his neck during AP Chemistry. Danny liked to skip classes and talk back to the teachers. He only went to classes when he wanted to, but he always seemed to have the answers to anything anyone asked.
At lunchtime, if he happened to be at school that day, Danny would tinker with his rebuilt '66 Chevelle in the school parking lot. He was the bad boy cliché come to life, and half the girls -- and more than a few boys -- in school wanted to get in his pants. At least that's what Peter's Chem partner liked to tell him. Peter didn't think too much about it, except for when Danny was in class and Peter could feel his eyes on the back of Peter's neck. Sometimes Peter turned around to check. Other times he just scratched the back of his neck and went back to playing with whatever they were doing that week.
It was a Tuesday that Peter was late for Chemistry, he doesn't remember why or where he was coming from, he just knows that he was late, and that detention was inevitable. He remembers running down the stairs long after the second bell, and then being grabbed by the back of his shirt and pulled under the stairwell.
For four months, Peter had had a locker next to Danny Ryan's and yet he couldn't remember ever actually having a conversation with him. This was probably why he didn't know what to say when he found himself trapped against the wall, with Danny Ryan looming right in front of him. And if he didn't know what to say to that then he really didn't know what to say when Danny Ryan kissed him.
As far as kisses went, it was pretty damn good. Peter didn't have a lot of experience with kissing boys -- or any in fact -- and he only had slightly more experience with kissing girls. Still, Danny Ryan kissed him as though he meant business. As though Peter were the most important thing in the entire world. It was the sort of thing that Peter could get used to quickly. Very quickly.
And just as quickly as it happened, it was over. Danny left Peter standing underneath the stairwell with an erection that had no intention of going anywhere and the sort of confusion that would have Peter chasing his proverbial tail for weeks.
Peter never asked Danny about it, so it never happened again, and Nathan didn't say anything about it, because Peter didn't tell him.
When Peter was seventeen and five-eighths he developed a crush on his brother. It was fleeting moment -- a miasma of hero-worship and longing for a life away from his parents and an absolute belief that Nathan was the only person in the entire world who could -- or would -- ever understand him.
Peter didn't do anything about this, because the person he would normally consult was the person he had inappropriate feelings for. Not that the feelings were inappropriate, but the intended recipient wasn't quite what society would approve of. This wasn't normal. It wasn't right. Nathan wasn't Tanya or Danny Ryan or Mindy, even though once upon a time Nathan had cut the crusts off of Peter's bread and poked him in the back, and when Nathan was watching him, Peter knew it.
Still, Peter knew better. He knew he knew better. And so he did nothing about it. Nathan had taught him that you only went after things you really wanted, and he didn't really want this, did he?
When Peter was eighteen, he was the best man at Nathan's wedding to Heidi Anconi. Peter liked Heidi; he liked Nathan when he was around Heidi. Peter was happy for the both of them. He truly was. When he kissed Heidi on the cheek, he meant it. When he toasted Nathan, he meant it. Not once did he mention the fact that he had a crush on his brother, or that he was jerking off to thoughts of his brother bending him over the yellow and white silk sofa in their parents sitting room, or that he'd taken to sleeping with random men and women with black hair and hazel eyes because he could. That was his issue, these were his demons, and so, he held his peace, because he could wait this out.
At twenty-two, Peter met a girl named Max and a boy named Sue. Max was short for Maxine, but Sue really was named Sue. He came from Texas, spoke with a drawl, and wasn't a very big Johnny Cash fan, since he felt that Johnny Cash and his parents had colluded to pretty much ruin his life.
Max had skin the color of toffee, huge dark eyes that she lined liberally with kohl, and was studying philosophy at Barnard. Max and Sue had been together for six months, and they were perfectly happy they said. They were in love. They just happened to like Peter. They happened to really like Peter. And so, Peter sort of fell into their relationship.
Peter fell into threesomes in thin-walled apartments and arguments over the Sunday morning New York Times at brunch. Peter fell into having his hair stroked after yet another argument with his parents about the way he was wasting his life. At night Peter was cosseted and petted and touched in ways he didn't even think were possible. Peter grew greedy for sex when he wanted it, where he wanted it, in whatever way he wanted it. For a few months, Peter was relaxed and happy, and he didn't think about Nathan or Heidi or the niece or nephew that was on its way.
And then, one morning, Peter woke up in his own bed with Sue pressed again his back and Max curled into his chest, and he knew that it was over. He didn't even have to lift his head to see Nathan standing in the doorway with a very assessing look on his face. Peter didn't even make a fuss; he just extracted his limbs from Max and Sue, pushed back the covers and climbed over the bed, stark naked, to where Nathan was appraising him between narrowed eyes.
Peter stood there before Nathan, as exposed as he ever would be, and he said nothing. He just stared. And the longer he stared the more Nathan's expression changed: distaste became wariness became confusion and then that all coalesced when Peter stepped right into Nathan's personal space.
Peter had been holding his peace for four years, and he watched Nathan's eyes dilate as Peter got entirely too close. "What the hell are you doing?" Nathan hissed softly.
Peter smiled softly. "It is just what you think it is," he said quietly.
"Since when are you sleeping with men?" Nathan's tone was all aggrieved older brother.
Peter's smile morphed into something that was all teeth. "He's just a substitute for you."
The expression on Nathan's face said everything that Peter had been trying to avoid, and Peter leaned back into his own space. "Don't worry," he said, patting Nathan's shoulder amiably, "I'm sure this will pass... eventually."
When Peter was twenty-five and eleven-twelfths, his brother was in an accident and almost died. Well, he didn't die, he flew, but Peter would never get Nathan to admit that, because if Nathan didn't like something then it didn't exist. Peter still remembered the day he came out to Nathan and then hid in the bathroom. By the time Peter had emerged from his shower thirty minutes later, Max and Sue and Nathan were all gone. Peter had mourned for a week and hadn't even known what he was mourning for until Nathan called and acted as though nothing had ever changed.
When Peter was twenty-six he jumped off of a roof and Nathan caught him. Six days later, Peter walked on air and Nathan was there. Five minutes later, in the stairwell of Peter's building, Peter grabbed Nathan's arm and stopped him from going downstairs. "This isn't going away," he said firmly. "This isn't like everything else."
Nathan froze and then his face went still the way it always did when he wasn't happy with what Peter was doing. "I don’t know what you're talking about," he said crisply.
Peter licked his lips and shook his head. "You can pretend as much as you want, but you can't take this away from me."
"I've never taken anything away from you," Nathan protested by rote. Peter snorted softly. "Nothing that you really needed," Nathan amended.
"I need you." Peter tugged Nathan closer.
Nathan's eyes went wide. "Are you out of your mind, Pete?"
Peter's smile was toothy. His mother thought Nathan was the only shark in the family; she was wrong. "There are only two things I want from you, Nathan, you're going to have to give me one of them."
Nathan's mouth thinned into a line. "I don’t negotiate."
Peter's smile morphed into a smirk. "I'm not a terrorist," he said, using his body to block Nathan in a corner. "I'm your brother. You can't deny me."
Peter felt fairly sure that Nathan's twisted smirk mirrored his own perfectly. "You'll get over it," was Nathan's lackadaisical reply.
Peter wasn't fooled, and Nathan's body twitched under Peter's hand when he leaned in and whispered against the shell of Nathan's ear. "This isn't going to pass, Nathan. You better get used to it."
With his parting shot, Peter released Nathan's arm and turned away. He was taken completely off guard when Nathan grabbed his bicep and dragged him back. That was nothing to the shock he felt when Nathan grabbed him by the jaw and kissed him hard enough to make Peter's entire body ache with want.
"Be careful what you wish for," Nathan's lips brushed against Peter's mouth as he spoke, "because you just might get it."
Peter took a shuddering breath before he answered. "That's what I'm hoping for."
-end-
Thank you, antheia, for the beta. And to sameoldhope and sparky77 because one day I shall persevere.
Heroes
Peter/Nathan
Rated R
And This Too Shall (Not) Pass
When Peter Petrelli was six and one-quarter years of age he developed a crush on his nanny, Tanya. Tanya had big brown eyes and soft black hair that she kept pinned up so that it wouldn't end up in Peter's art projects. Tanya wore crystal earrings that caught the sun and cast shadows all over the walls of the kitchen while she cut the crusts off of Peter's sandwiches. Peter liked to try and catch the red reflections before Tanya took him to kindergarten in the morning.
Every afternoon, Tanya was waiting at the gate when Peter was dismissed, and then she would take Peter home and sing him Beatles songs to lure him into his afternoon nap. Tanya filled the hole in his heart when Nathan went off to college.
The day that someone else was waiting by the school gate to pick Peter up was one of the most devastating days of his young life -- right up there with Nathan leaving him.
For months afterwards, Peter begged his mother to tell him where Tanya had gone and when she was coming back and why she hadn't even said good-bye. His mother said he needed to not get so attached to the help. When Nathan came home for summer break, Peter forgot some of his heartache.
Nathan said, "You'll get over it eventually, Pete."
Eventually is a long time when you are six and one-quarter.
When Peter was thirteen he had a crush on a girl named Mindy Collins. She had red hair and freckles across her nose. She played soccer and had twin older brothers that picked her up after school in the family Volvo station wagon. Mindy was tall -- much taller than Peter, who hadn't yet enjoyed the wonders of puberty -- and gangly. She liked to talk to Peter about the books they were reading in English -- The Lord of the Flies and Julius Caesar -- and when he answered wrong in class she would poke him in the back. For a while, Peter's only inducement to do his assignments -- apart from not getting grief from his mother and Nathan -- was to not end up with bruises all over his shoulder blades.
In their gym class, the boys and the girls were divided up, and Peter would watch across the room as Mindy played basketball with the other girls and her braids flew back and forth. Peter never told Mindy how he felt, because really, what would he say? Peter could say anything to anyone, but this was different, because he liked Mindy and he didn't want to mess it up, and he just couldn't think of the right words to say. When he asked Nathan about it, Nathan just patted him on the back.
"Don't think about it, just ask her out," Nathan said. But Peter was a thinker. It was what Peter did. Peter thought about the birds and the bees and where the ducks went when the ponds froze over. Peter thought about being tall like his brother and serving in the Navy and what he would be when he was older. All Peter did was think. Except when he thought about Mindy he got flustered and confused.
So, he thought and he thought, and one day he came to school and sat down in at his desk in English and Mindy never came. She didn't come the next day either. Or the day after that.
Mindy taught Peter not to wait, because if he did, it would be too late.
When Peter was sixteen, his locker was next to a boy named Danny Ryan. Danny had black hair that flopped over one eye and sharp blue eyes that Peter could feel on the back of his neck during AP Chemistry. Danny liked to skip classes and talk back to the teachers. He only went to classes when he wanted to, but he always seemed to have the answers to anything anyone asked.
At lunchtime, if he happened to be at school that day, Danny would tinker with his rebuilt '66 Chevelle in the school parking lot. He was the bad boy cliché come to life, and half the girls -- and more than a few boys -- in school wanted to get in his pants. At least that's what Peter's Chem partner liked to tell him. Peter didn't think too much about it, except for when Danny was in class and Peter could feel his eyes on the back of Peter's neck. Sometimes Peter turned around to check. Other times he just scratched the back of his neck and went back to playing with whatever they were doing that week.
It was a Tuesday that Peter was late for Chemistry, he doesn't remember why or where he was coming from, he just knows that he was late, and that detention was inevitable. He remembers running down the stairs long after the second bell, and then being grabbed by the back of his shirt and pulled under the stairwell.
For four months, Peter had had a locker next to Danny Ryan's and yet he couldn't remember ever actually having a conversation with him. This was probably why he didn't know what to say when he found himself trapped against the wall, with Danny Ryan looming right in front of him. And if he didn't know what to say to that then he really didn't know what to say when Danny Ryan kissed him.
As far as kisses went, it was pretty damn good. Peter didn't have a lot of experience with kissing boys -- or any in fact -- and he only had slightly more experience with kissing girls. Still, Danny Ryan kissed him as though he meant business. As though Peter were the most important thing in the entire world. It was the sort of thing that Peter could get used to quickly. Very quickly.
And just as quickly as it happened, it was over. Danny left Peter standing underneath the stairwell with an erection that had no intention of going anywhere and the sort of confusion that would have Peter chasing his proverbial tail for weeks.
Peter never asked Danny about it, so it never happened again, and Nathan didn't say anything about it, because Peter didn't tell him.
When Peter was seventeen and five-eighths he developed a crush on his brother. It was fleeting moment -- a miasma of hero-worship and longing for a life away from his parents and an absolute belief that Nathan was the only person in the entire world who could -- or would -- ever understand him.
Peter didn't do anything about this, because the person he would normally consult was the person he had inappropriate feelings for. Not that the feelings were inappropriate, but the intended recipient wasn't quite what society would approve of. This wasn't normal. It wasn't right. Nathan wasn't Tanya or Danny Ryan or Mindy, even though once upon a time Nathan had cut the crusts off of Peter's bread and poked him in the back, and when Nathan was watching him, Peter knew it.
Still, Peter knew better. He knew he knew better. And so he did nothing about it. Nathan had taught him that you only went after things you really wanted, and he didn't really want this, did he?
When Peter was eighteen, he was the best man at Nathan's wedding to Heidi Anconi. Peter liked Heidi; he liked Nathan when he was around Heidi. Peter was happy for the both of them. He truly was. When he kissed Heidi on the cheek, he meant it. When he toasted Nathan, he meant it. Not once did he mention the fact that he had a crush on his brother, or that he was jerking off to thoughts of his brother bending him over the yellow and white silk sofa in their parents sitting room, or that he'd taken to sleeping with random men and women with black hair and hazel eyes because he could. That was his issue, these were his demons, and so, he held his peace, because he could wait this out.
At twenty-two, Peter met a girl named Max and a boy named Sue. Max was short for Maxine, but Sue really was named Sue. He came from Texas, spoke with a drawl, and wasn't a very big Johnny Cash fan, since he felt that Johnny Cash and his parents had colluded to pretty much ruin his life.
Max had skin the color of toffee, huge dark eyes that she lined liberally with kohl, and was studying philosophy at Barnard. Max and Sue had been together for six months, and they were perfectly happy they said. They were in love. They just happened to like Peter. They happened to really like Peter. And so, Peter sort of fell into their relationship.
Peter fell into threesomes in thin-walled apartments and arguments over the Sunday morning New York Times at brunch. Peter fell into having his hair stroked after yet another argument with his parents about the way he was wasting his life. At night Peter was cosseted and petted and touched in ways he didn't even think were possible. Peter grew greedy for sex when he wanted it, where he wanted it, in whatever way he wanted it. For a few months, Peter was relaxed and happy, and he didn't think about Nathan or Heidi or the niece or nephew that was on its way.
And then, one morning, Peter woke up in his own bed with Sue pressed again his back and Max curled into his chest, and he knew that it was over. He didn't even have to lift his head to see Nathan standing in the doorway with a very assessing look on his face. Peter didn't even make a fuss; he just extracted his limbs from Max and Sue, pushed back the covers and climbed over the bed, stark naked, to where Nathan was appraising him between narrowed eyes.
Peter stood there before Nathan, as exposed as he ever would be, and he said nothing. He just stared. And the longer he stared the more Nathan's expression changed: distaste became wariness became confusion and then that all coalesced when Peter stepped right into Nathan's personal space.
Peter had been holding his peace for four years, and he watched Nathan's eyes dilate as Peter got entirely too close. "What the hell are you doing?" Nathan hissed softly.
Peter smiled softly. "It is just what you think it is," he said quietly.
"Since when are you sleeping with men?" Nathan's tone was all aggrieved older brother.
Peter's smile morphed into something that was all teeth. "He's just a substitute for you."
The expression on Nathan's face said everything that Peter had been trying to avoid, and Peter leaned back into his own space. "Don't worry," he said, patting Nathan's shoulder amiably, "I'm sure this will pass... eventually."
When Peter was twenty-five and eleven-twelfths, his brother was in an accident and almost died. Well, he didn't die, he flew, but Peter would never get Nathan to admit that, because if Nathan didn't like something then it didn't exist. Peter still remembered the day he came out to Nathan and then hid in the bathroom. By the time Peter had emerged from his shower thirty minutes later, Max and Sue and Nathan were all gone. Peter had mourned for a week and hadn't even known what he was mourning for until Nathan called and acted as though nothing had ever changed.
When Peter was twenty-six he jumped off of a roof and Nathan caught him. Six days later, Peter walked on air and Nathan was there. Five minutes later, in the stairwell of Peter's building, Peter grabbed Nathan's arm and stopped him from going downstairs. "This isn't going away," he said firmly. "This isn't like everything else."
Nathan froze and then his face went still the way it always did when he wasn't happy with what Peter was doing. "I don’t know what you're talking about," he said crisply.
Peter licked his lips and shook his head. "You can pretend as much as you want, but you can't take this away from me."
"I've never taken anything away from you," Nathan protested by rote. Peter snorted softly. "Nothing that you really needed," Nathan amended.
"I need you." Peter tugged Nathan closer.
Nathan's eyes went wide. "Are you out of your mind, Pete?"
Peter's smile was toothy. His mother thought Nathan was the only shark in the family; she was wrong. "There are only two things I want from you, Nathan, you're going to have to give me one of them."
Nathan's mouth thinned into a line. "I don’t negotiate."
Peter's smile morphed into a smirk. "I'm not a terrorist," he said, using his body to block Nathan in a corner. "I'm your brother. You can't deny me."
Peter felt fairly sure that Nathan's twisted smirk mirrored his own perfectly. "You'll get over it," was Nathan's lackadaisical reply.
Peter wasn't fooled, and Nathan's body twitched under Peter's hand when he leaned in and whispered against the shell of Nathan's ear. "This isn't going to pass, Nathan. You better get used to it."
With his parting shot, Peter released Nathan's arm and turned away. He was taken completely off guard when Nathan grabbed his bicep and dragged him back. That was nothing to the shock he felt when Nathan grabbed him by the jaw and kissed him hard enough to make Peter's entire body ache with want.
"Be careful what you wish for," Nathan's lips brushed against Peter's mouth as he spoke, "because you just might get it."
Peter took a shuddering breath before he answered. "That's what I'm hoping for."
-end-
Thank you, antheia, for the beta. And to sameoldhope and sparky77 because one day I shall persevere.