Fic: September 1977 (Adam Monroe, Arthur and Angela Petrelli, PG)
Title: September 1977
Rating: PG
Words: 689
Characters: Adam Monroe, Arthur Petrelli, Angela Petrelli, and an appearance by Kaito Nakamura
Warnings: None.
Spoilers: Vaguely, for all of season 2
Disclaimer: Not my characters, not writing this for profit.
A/N: This is written for the mission_insane challenge, table/prompt: Cliché / Angry Drunken Betrayal. Also, I utterly reject the "canon" that people with healing powers can't get drunk. Can't get hung over? Sure, their body can heal instantly from damage caused by intoxication. But their liver still processes alcohol at the same rate as anyone else. Silly writers.
X-posted at heroes_fic and Archive Of Our Own.
Summary: Adam doesn't realize just how bad of an idea it is to embarrass Arthur Petrelli.
Adam couldn't explain why he'd done it.
It wasn't that she was a spectacular lover. He'd had enough over the centuries to be able to say, definitively, she was fair-to-middling, at best.
It wasn't that he'd felt any particular attachment to her. Even if he had, he had enough decency left that he would never try to seduce a woman away from her ten-year-old son. And for proof that he had no reason to feel attachment, one could re-read the previous point.
Ah...yes. That was it. Her cool dismissal. Her insinuation that what had happened between them didn't matter at all. Which, yes, admittedly, that was true. But he was the one who should do the dismissing. Not that he wanted to, exactly. He'd rather do some polite conversation that implied to the world that nothing had gone on between them while acknowledging without words that what had gone on between them was pleasant but not to be repeated and also not going to create tension and complications down the road. Or something. Erm.
Adam watched Angela's slim body from across the room, and took another swig from his martini, and another, and another.
He realized that Nakamura was at his elbow. He suppressed the fury he automatically felt at that name and smiled.
"You seem tense, Adam."
"Yes, well..." He took another drink.
"I'm counting on your persuasiveness to help us out tonight."
Adam suppressed a sigh and began to reply, but suddenly they were there.
"I haven't seen you since the Europe trip, Adam," Arthur said with a polite smile.
Angela looked at him, but yet through him. Not guiltily - like he was an annoying inconvenience.
Adam said, "I've been busy."
"At least we've got some lovely weather tonight, after the dreary drizzle of the last few days," Arthur continued in his best useless small talk voice. He should have been a politician.
Nakamura's eye was evidently caught by someone he considered more vital, or maybe he felt the tension. Either way, he made a silent bow of apology and glided away to speak with someone else. Adam drained his glass and looked upwards.
"There is indeed a spectacularly beautiful moon tonight. Not as beautiful as the moon over Florence, though, eh, Angela?"
She at least had the grace to focus on him now. Arthur's eyes flicked curiously over to her.
"Of course, part of it was probably the intoxicating scent of the fresh Italian roses. There's something about them that adds magic to the air, isn't there?" He considered the tiny dribble in the bottom of his glass before adding, "It's just not the same under the cold hard neon glare of the city."
Angela's face was unchanged but there was a sudden stiffness in her shoulders. Arthur stared out at the panorama of the city, not looking at either of them, his cheeks turning a dull red and his tongue suddenly silent.
"Please excuse us, Adam," Angela said in a bland voice. As they left him, though, he noted that they walked in separate directions. Good. Bitch.
He sighed and turned to lean on the railing. That had been stupid. And not the way he'd intended this to turn out at all, at all. He thought he'd learned long ago not to let his temper - and his alcohol - get the better of him, but clearly he'd been fooling himself.
He glanced over his shoulder. Arthur was talking to Nakamura, leaning in close to keep his words quiet. Nakamura was staring at Adam and as their eyes met, his shifted away guiltily. For a brief instance, Adam wished for a more useful ability, like long-distance hearing.
Adam looked moodily back over the balcony edge. Arthur couldn't really do anything in revenge; their little enterprise needed him too much. What was the worst thing he could cook up, telling Trina about his adulterous tryst? He felt a sudden sharp stab of shame and guilt, then tried to push it away - it wasn't like he hadn't been betrayed before, several times, in fact.
Ah, to Hell with all this.
He headed back into the penthouse for another drink.
...
Rating: PG
Words: 689
Characters: Adam Monroe, Arthur Petrelli, Angela Petrelli, and an appearance by Kaito Nakamura
Warnings: None.
Spoilers: Vaguely, for all of season 2
Disclaimer: Not my characters, not writing this for profit.
A/N: This is written for the mission_insane challenge, table/prompt: Cliché / Angry Drunken Betrayal. Also, I utterly reject the "canon" that people with healing powers can't get drunk. Can't get hung over? Sure, their body can heal instantly from damage caused by intoxication. But their liver still processes alcohol at the same rate as anyone else. Silly writers.
X-posted at heroes_fic and Archive Of Our Own.
Summary: Adam doesn't realize just how bad of an idea it is to embarrass Arthur Petrelli.
Adam couldn't explain why he'd done it.
It wasn't that she was a spectacular lover. He'd had enough over the centuries to be able to say, definitively, she was fair-to-middling, at best.
It wasn't that he'd felt any particular attachment to her. Even if he had, he had enough decency left that he would never try to seduce a woman away from her ten-year-old son. And for proof that he had no reason to feel attachment, one could re-read the previous point.
Ah...yes. That was it. Her cool dismissal. Her insinuation that what had happened between them didn't matter at all. Which, yes, admittedly, that was true. But he was the one who should do the dismissing. Not that he wanted to, exactly. He'd rather do some polite conversation that implied to the world that nothing had gone on between them while acknowledging without words that what had gone on between them was pleasant but not to be repeated and also not going to create tension and complications down the road. Or something. Erm.
Adam watched Angela's slim body from across the room, and took another swig from his martini, and another, and another.
He realized that Nakamura was at his elbow. He suppressed the fury he automatically felt at that name and smiled.
"You seem tense, Adam."
"Yes, well..." He took another drink.
"I'm counting on your persuasiveness to help us out tonight."
Adam suppressed a sigh and began to reply, but suddenly they were there.
"I haven't seen you since the Europe trip, Adam," Arthur said with a polite smile.
Angela looked at him, but yet through him. Not guiltily - like he was an annoying inconvenience.
Adam said, "I've been busy."
"At least we've got some lovely weather tonight, after the dreary drizzle of the last few days," Arthur continued in his best useless small talk voice. He should have been a politician.
Nakamura's eye was evidently caught by someone he considered more vital, or maybe he felt the tension. Either way, he made a silent bow of apology and glided away to speak with someone else. Adam drained his glass and looked upwards.
"There is indeed a spectacularly beautiful moon tonight. Not as beautiful as the moon over Florence, though, eh, Angela?"
She at least had the grace to focus on him now. Arthur's eyes flicked curiously over to her.
"Of course, part of it was probably the intoxicating scent of the fresh Italian roses. There's something about them that adds magic to the air, isn't there?" He considered the tiny dribble in the bottom of his glass before adding, "It's just not the same under the cold hard neon glare of the city."
Angela's face was unchanged but there was a sudden stiffness in her shoulders. Arthur stared out at the panorama of the city, not looking at either of them, his cheeks turning a dull red and his tongue suddenly silent.
"Please excuse us, Adam," Angela said in a bland voice. As they left him, though, he noted that they walked in separate directions. Good. Bitch.
He sighed and turned to lean on the railing. That had been stupid. And not the way he'd intended this to turn out at all, at all. He thought he'd learned long ago not to let his temper - and his alcohol - get the better of him, but clearly he'd been fooling himself.
He glanced over his shoulder. Arthur was talking to Nakamura, leaning in close to keep his words quiet. Nakamura was staring at Adam and as their eyes met, his shifted away guiltily. For a brief instance, Adam wished for a more useful ability, like long-distance hearing.
Adam looked moodily back over the balcony edge. Arthur couldn't really do anything in revenge; their little enterprise needed him too much. What was the worst thing he could cook up, telling Trina about his adulterous tryst? He felt a sudden sharp stab of shame and guilt, then tried to push it away - it wasn't like he hadn't been betrayed before, several times, in fact.
Ah, to Hell with all this.
He headed back into the penthouse for another drink.
...