Big Boom Excerpt: Ritual 13: Gratitude
Author: mystery_sock
Title: Ritual 13: Gratitude
Pairing/Rating: Nathan/Peter, NC17
Summary: During the Thanksgiving holiday, Peter and Nathan struggle to communicate with each other. Their tangled web of fear, desire, and love threatens to tear them apart, but instead holds the key to keeping them together.
"So are you coming for dinner tomorrow night?" Nathan said. "We're having dinner at home, and then drinks and late supper at the Coopers'."
Peter laughed and put his hand to his forehead. "The Coopers," he echoed, his mind now somewhere else entirely. "Oh, man. I wonder if they still have that bathroom."
"I'm pretty sure they do."
"Do you remember?" Peter asked, his voice suddenly childlike, playful, vulnerable. Like a melody - three words that encapsulated so much longing, such profound sensations. The touch, the taste, the kiss, the sight, the violation, the promise. Open me... hold me... trust me. With us forever, no matter what.
"Of course I remember," Nathan replied dryly. "Anyway, Mom says to be home at five."
Peter, snapped out of his sensual nostalgia, suddenly frowned and shook his head. "I can't," he said. "I've got to work. It's a really heavy time of year."
"You don't have the night off?" Nathan said incredulously. "It's Thanksgiving. It's a federal holiday."
"No," Peter replied, confused and hurt. "What would you think if they closed the hospitals on the holidays? Anyway, you guys can do without me this year."
"It's not about that, Peter."
"You can do without me," Peter insisted, raising his voice. "I'd just sit there, anyway, waiting to..." A laugh broke his sentence. "Get you alone for a second."
Nathan frowned. "I'm telling you, it's not about that. Mom would flip. You can't miss Thanksgiving dinner, especially since we're invited guests. All of us are. You know how that would look?"
"Like I'm working for a living. Is that so wrong? I need the money, okay?"
"Look, I'll pay you whatever wages you're missing; it can't be that much. Because you have to be there for this whole weekend. Seriously."
Peter threw his head back and stared at the ceiling of the car. "Look, people need me. These guys have no one else."
"You've got co-workers. Get someone to cover for you. Call in sick if you need to, but you'd better show up to dinner tomorrow night. And you'd better be clean-shaven, too, and get a haircut if you've got time. You should wear your Prada suit; you look good in that. It still fits, doesn't it?"
Peter sighed. "Maybe I just don't want to go. I hate the Coopers."
"Have you ever considered the fact that it's not about whether or not you want to go?" Nathan asked. "This is family, Peter. I hate the Coopers, too, but... they're friends of Dad's."
"Because he makes sure they can keep laundering money," Peter replied, shaking his head.
It was Nathan's turn to sigh. "They have a shell company; it's not money-laundering, Peter."
"No, it's semantics."
"Do you even know what that means?" Nathan said.
"Nathan, I'm twenty-five. I've been to college, okay? I took women's studies. I know what 'semantics' means."
Nathan almost smiled. He hadn't looked at Peter once, keeping his eyes on the road. "Just show up, and grin and bear it, Peter. When Mom and Dad are gone, you'll be glad you spent time with them. It's not about what you want; it's about what's important. Please. Please, okay. I'm begging."
"Begging, huh," Peter echoed softly, chuckling, his voice now quiet and intimate. Thinking about something else yet again. "Supper at the Coopers'. Crap. I'm gonna have to get really drunk to deal with that."
"That's okay; just keep a martini glass in your mouth, and smile and nod. That's all anybody expects. You might pleasantly surprise Dad. There'll be a lot of other families there, too. I'm sure at least one of them has a hot daughter your age; you never know. You might get lucky."
Nathan had pulled to a stop outside a tiny, hole-in-the-wall pizzeria, its blue-and-red neon OPEN sign a bright light in an otherwise grim façade; and when he turned to Peter, the soft two-color glow played along the smooth, elegant angles of Nathan's face, illuminating his deep, dark eyes. Without even thinking of what he was doing, Peter reached out his hand and traced the bow-like curve of Nathan's upper lip. "Will you find me?" Peter whispered.
Nathan took Peter's hand and kissed the caressing fingertips, then held Peter's hand to his chin and gazed at Peter from under his long eyelashes. He looked so ridiculously beautiful that it nearly took Peter's breath away. "There probably won't be time, Peter," Nathan said, his voice pinched with regret. "Too many people there." Peter pulled his hand back, smiled nervously, and tucked the trailing edge of his hair behind his ear. Nathan insisted, "Pete... okay? Five o'clock?"
"Do you love me for real?" Peter asked, not looking at his brother.
"Yeah," Nathan replied, nodding. "Yeah. For real."
"If there's a hot babe there, could you... please send her to me when you're done with her?" He looked up, and gave Nathan a crooked, uncertain smile.
Nathan laughed gently, squeezing Peter's shoulder with his fingers, then patting him. "Five o'clock, Peter. Be on time. And get your hair cut, okay?" He reached into his wallet, and flicked Peter a twenty-dollar bill. "Go get your slice. And just think... Thanksgiving dinner. Looks like you could use it; you're way too skinny."
"I won't eat all day, I can guarantee you that," Peter replied, picking up the twenty and realizing that he could buy three or four slices with it. At least he wouldn't go hungry tonight. He pocketed the money, then leaned over and kissed Nathan quickly on the lips. "Thanks."
"Wear that green knitted silk tie Mom got you for your birthday - it really brings out your eyes."
"All right, Queer Eye." Peter opened the door and slid out onto the sidewalk. He grinned, feeling optimistic for a change.
"Don't ever call me that in public." Nathan got in the last word, slammed the door behind Peter, and sped off in a burst of kicked-up slush that soaked the legs of Peter's jeans, and dampened his optimism along with them.
Full story coming September 21!
Title: Ritual 13: Gratitude
Pairing/Rating: Nathan/Peter, NC17
Summary: During the Thanksgiving holiday, Peter and Nathan struggle to communicate with each other. Their tangled web of fear, desire, and love threatens to tear them apart, but instead holds the key to keeping them together.
"So are you coming for dinner tomorrow night?" Nathan said. "We're having dinner at home, and then drinks and late supper at the Coopers'."
Peter laughed and put his hand to his forehead. "The Coopers," he echoed, his mind now somewhere else entirely. "Oh, man. I wonder if they still have that bathroom."
"I'm pretty sure they do."
"Do you remember?" Peter asked, his voice suddenly childlike, playful, vulnerable. Like a melody - three words that encapsulated so much longing, such profound sensations. The touch, the taste, the kiss, the sight, the violation, the promise. Open me... hold me... trust me. With us forever, no matter what.
"Of course I remember," Nathan replied dryly. "Anyway, Mom says to be home at five."
Peter, snapped out of his sensual nostalgia, suddenly frowned and shook his head. "I can't," he said. "I've got to work. It's a really heavy time of year."
"You don't have the night off?" Nathan said incredulously. "It's Thanksgiving. It's a federal holiday."
"No," Peter replied, confused and hurt. "What would you think if they closed the hospitals on the holidays? Anyway, you guys can do without me this year."
"It's not about that, Peter."
"You can do without me," Peter insisted, raising his voice. "I'd just sit there, anyway, waiting to..." A laugh broke his sentence. "Get you alone for a second."
Nathan frowned. "I'm telling you, it's not about that. Mom would flip. You can't miss Thanksgiving dinner, especially since we're invited guests. All of us are. You know how that would look?"
"Like I'm working for a living. Is that so wrong? I need the money, okay?"
"Look, I'll pay you whatever wages you're missing; it can't be that much. Because you have to be there for this whole weekend. Seriously."
Peter threw his head back and stared at the ceiling of the car. "Look, people need me. These guys have no one else."
"You've got co-workers. Get someone to cover for you. Call in sick if you need to, but you'd better show up to dinner tomorrow night. And you'd better be clean-shaven, too, and get a haircut if you've got time. You should wear your Prada suit; you look good in that. It still fits, doesn't it?"
Peter sighed. "Maybe I just don't want to go. I hate the Coopers."
"Have you ever considered the fact that it's not about whether or not you want to go?" Nathan asked. "This is family, Peter. I hate the Coopers, too, but... they're friends of Dad's."
"Because he makes sure they can keep laundering money," Peter replied, shaking his head.
It was Nathan's turn to sigh. "They have a shell company; it's not money-laundering, Peter."
"No, it's semantics."
"Do you even know what that means?" Nathan said.
"Nathan, I'm twenty-five. I've been to college, okay? I took women's studies. I know what 'semantics' means."
Nathan almost smiled. He hadn't looked at Peter once, keeping his eyes on the road. "Just show up, and grin and bear it, Peter. When Mom and Dad are gone, you'll be glad you spent time with them. It's not about what you want; it's about what's important. Please. Please, okay. I'm begging."
"Begging, huh," Peter echoed softly, chuckling, his voice now quiet and intimate. Thinking about something else yet again. "Supper at the Coopers'. Crap. I'm gonna have to get really drunk to deal with that."
"That's okay; just keep a martini glass in your mouth, and smile and nod. That's all anybody expects. You might pleasantly surprise Dad. There'll be a lot of other families there, too. I'm sure at least one of them has a hot daughter your age; you never know. You might get lucky."
Nathan had pulled to a stop outside a tiny, hole-in-the-wall pizzeria, its blue-and-red neon OPEN sign a bright light in an otherwise grim façade; and when he turned to Peter, the soft two-color glow played along the smooth, elegant angles of Nathan's face, illuminating his deep, dark eyes. Without even thinking of what he was doing, Peter reached out his hand and traced the bow-like curve of Nathan's upper lip. "Will you find me?" Peter whispered.
Nathan took Peter's hand and kissed the caressing fingertips, then held Peter's hand to his chin and gazed at Peter from under his long eyelashes. He looked so ridiculously beautiful that it nearly took Peter's breath away. "There probably won't be time, Peter," Nathan said, his voice pinched with regret. "Too many people there." Peter pulled his hand back, smiled nervously, and tucked the trailing edge of his hair behind his ear. Nathan insisted, "Pete... okay? Five o'clock?"
"Do you love me for real?" Peter asked, not looking at his brother.
"Yeah," Nathan replied, nodding. "Yeah. For real."
"If there's a hot babe there, could you... please send her to me when you're done with her?" He looked up, and gave Nathan a crooked, uncertain smile.
Nathan laughed gently, squeezing Peter's shoulder with his fingers, then patting him. "Five o'clock, Peter. Be on time. And get your hair cut, okay?" He reached into his wallet, and flicked Peter a twenty-dollar bill. "Go get your slice. And just think... Thanksgiving dinner. Looks like you could use it; you're way too skinny."
"I won't eat all day, I can guarantee you that," Peter replied, picking up the twenty and realizing that he could buy three or four slices with it. At least he wouldn't go hungry tonight. He pocketed the money, then leaned over and kissed Nathan quickly on the lips. "Thanks."
"Wear that green knitted silk tie Mom got you for your birthday - it really brings out your eyes."
"All right, Queer Eye." Peter opened the door and slid out onto the sidewalk. He grinned, feeling optimistic for a change.
"Don't ever call me that in public." Nathan got in the last word, slammed the door behind Peter, and sped off in a burst of kicked-up slush that soaked the legs of Peter's jeans, and dampened his optimism along with them.
Full story coming September 21!