Fic: Better Here (PG)
Title: Better Here
Author: Jemisard
Rating: PG
Pairing: None
Summary: Peter had been landing on his own feet for a while, but sometimes it hurts less to get caught by someone else.
Follows Security.
Warnings: Spoilers for up to 1x19 “.07%”.
When Peter was a little boy, he used to have night terrors.
They were horrific, terrifying things. He could never remember them, he always just woke up screaming and convinced that everyone was dead. Or worse than dead. And the only thing that made him feel safe was running down the hall and scrambling into Nathan’s bed and arms.
But Nathan had left for college and Peter had grown up. And eventually, the night terrors faded away.
He still had the urge to throw himself into Nathan’s arms something, though. Demand that Nathan make everything better again.
He shut off the shower and stepped out, trying not to focus on where the grout had turned pink with washed off blood.
He didn’t look in the mirror either, where he knew there were no scars and just an uneven cut of hair from his fight that day in Mohinder’s apartment.
He just got dressed, towelled off his hair and walked down the hallway to his own room, because he wasn’t five anymore and Nathan couldn’t make everything better just by picking him up and holding him close.
His bed was too big all over again when he slid under the covers and turned out the light to sleep.
Peter was woken up by the knowledge that everyone in the house was dying horribly.
He was up and out of bed before he thought of it, tumbling to the floor as he made a mad scramble for the door. The hallway was unlit, but he already knew where he was going, the familiar door light in the darkness.
And despite the fear, despite the terror of seeing light streaming from inside, he opened the door slowly, peering inside. “Nathan?”
Nathan was sitting up in the bed, sweating and sleep tousled in the lamplight.
They looked at each other for a moment and Peter felt five years old again, but not in a bad way.
“You have a nightmare, Peter?”
He swallowed and shook his head. “No, just. Maybe.”
“I thought you’d grown out of night terrors.”
“I did.” He clutches the door frame. “I thought you didn’t have nightmares.”
“I don’t.” Nathan shook his head and pushed his hands through his hair. “You died, Peter. You were dead, in my arms.”
There wasn’t much Peter could say to that. He shivered, glimpses of his dream coming back. A cold body in his arms and too much grief to ever be expressed. “I’m sorry.”
Nathan said nothing.
Peter watched him.
“What do you want, Peter? It’s the middle of the night.”
He wanted everything to be all right again. He wanted to go back to being a nurse and looking after people and living in his own apartment without the fear that someone was coming for him.
“... I’m scared.” Was all he managed to get out. He stared at his bare feet. “All right, Nathan? I’m scared.”
He didn’t look up until he heard the bedclothes rustle, and then glanced through his fringe, eyes going slightly wider.
Nathan had shifted over. He wasn’t looking at Peter. “Come on. Just tonight. But don’t tell Mom.”
Peter closed the door behind him and slipped under the blankets, pressing into the warm safety of his big brother’s arms.
Author: Jemisard
Rating: PG
Pairing: None
Summary: Peter had been landing on his own feet for a while, but sometimes it hurts less to get caught by someone else.
Follows Security.
Warnings: Spoilers for up to 1x19 “.07%”.
When Peter was a little boy, he used to have night terrors.
They were horrific, terrifying things. He could never remember them, he always just woke up screaming and convinced that everyone was dead. Or worse than dead. And the only thing that made him feel safe was running down the hall and scrambling into Nathan’s bed and arms.
But Nathan had left for college and Peter had grown up. And eventually, the night terrors faded away.
He still had the urge to throw himself into Nathan’s arms something, though. Demand that Nathan make everything better again.
He shut off the shower and stepped out, trying not to focus on where the grout had turned pink with washed off blood.
He didn’t look in the mirror either, where he knew there were no scars and just an uneven cut of hair from his fight that day in Mohinder’s apartment.
He just got dressed, towelled off his hair and walked down the hallway to his own room, because he wasn’t five anymore and Nathan couldn’t make everything better just by picking him up and holding him close.
His bed was too big all over again when he slid under the covers and turned out the light to sleep.
Peter was woken up by the knowledge that everyone in the house was dying horribly.
He was up and out of bed before he thought of it, tumbling to the floor as he made a mad scramble for the door. The hallway was unlit, but he already knew where he was going, the familiar door light in the darkness.
And despite the fear, despite the terror of seeing light streaming from inside, he opened the door slowly, peering inside. “Nathan?”
Nathan was sitting up in the bed, sweating and sleep tousled in the lamplight.
They looked at each other for a moment and Peter felt five years old again, but not in a bad way.
“You have a nightmare, Peter?”
He swallowed and shook his head. “No, just. Maybe.”
“I thought you’d grown out of night terrors.”
“I did.” He clutches the door frame. “I thought you didn’t have nightmares.”
“I don’t.” Nathan shook his head and pushed his hands through his hair. “You died, Peter. You were dead, in my arms.”
There wasn’t much Peter could say to that. He shivered, glimpses of his dream coming back. A cold body in his arms and too much grief to ever be expressed. “I’m sorry.”
Nathan said nothing.
Peter watched him.
“What do you want, Peter? It’s the middle of the night.”
He wanted everything to be all right again. He wanted to go back to being a nurse and looking after people and living in his own apartment without the fear that someone was coming for him.
“... I’m scared.” Was all he managed to get out. He stared at his bare feet. “All right, Nathan? I’m scared.”
He didn’t look up until he heard the bedclothes rustle, and then glanced through his fringe, eyes going slightly wider.
Nathan had shifted over. He wasn’t looking at Peter. “Come on. Just tonight. But don’t tell Mom.”
Peter closed the door behind him and slipped under the blankets, pressing into the warm safety of his big brother’s arms.