Heroes - def•i•ni•tion [ dèffə nísh'n ] , Nathan/Peter, R
Yesterday I wrote We're Made Out of Blood and Rust. Today I wrote something else. I haven't written anything in about a month, so this is AWESOME.
Also, this is not what I set out to write, but it's what happened.
Heroes
Spoilers for 1.19 '.07%'
Nathan/Peter, R
def•i•ni•tion [ dèffə nísh'n ]
We are defined by who we are. What we are. Where we are.
Right now, Nathan Petrelli, an assistant district attorney from Westchester, is naked and unable to sleep and sharing a bed with his brother, Peter. Nathan is around 5'10 and 170 pounds. He has brown hair and hazel eyes from his father's side of the family. Nathan is married to a woman in a wheelchair -- who he put there indirectly -- and has two -- no -- three children. Two boys and a girl. A girl he doesn't know at all. Nathan is a father and a husband and a potential congressman. Nathan is in love with his wife and in love with his life, and today, when his younger brother died, all of it ceased to matter.
We are not defined by what we have. Or what we wear. Or we should not be defined by these things -- but 'should' and 'are' are not the same.
Nathan likes nice things. He likes nice clothing and good food and good wine. Nathan likes fast cars and beautiful women. Nathan has a tailor named Giuseppe. Giuseppe was Nathan's father's tailor and his grandfather's tailor. Giuseppe has been making Nathan clothing since before Nathan knew the difference between Brioni and Valentino. Nathan knows how to appreciate the tangible things in his life; he can be very materialistic, but his family gives to charity, so it all evens out in the end. Or it should even out in the end. But Nathan also should not love his brother in the ways he does. What they share would be called 'evil' and 'wrong' and 'bad' and 'dirty' by most people. Nathan would lose his wife. He would lose his children. Forget about his campaign and his job. Nathan could lose everything for Peter, and today he realized that it didn't matter. What they have is that all-consuming. Nathan and Peter are, and nothing will ever change that. Nathan has tried; Peter has tried, but they belong together, like the twins they never were. It is not about the sex -- although that is spectacular in ways Nathan can't even begin to recount -- it is not about possession -- although, Peter belongs to Nathan and Nathan belongs to Peter and no one will ever be able to break that.
Some things just are.
We are defined by what we think. Who we love. What we love.
Nathan thinks. Nathan has always been a thinker. He has always been several steps ahead of the curve; ten steps ahead in every game. Nathan's prescience is what makes him such an excellent chess player; it's what makes him a brilliant attorney. Nathan's foresight is what makes him think the people he loves are safe until he finds out that he's completely wrong. Claire. Heidi. Peter. Nathan loves his mother, his wife, his sons, his daughter, his job, his election. Except that none of these define who he is or what he is. None of these things are at Nathan's heart -- they are close, but they are not his center. They are not what gets him up in the morning or keeps him going at night. They are not what he leaves meetings for in the middle of the workday for or lies to his campaign manager about.
What Nathan loves is his hands on Peter's skin and Peter's warm breath on his collarbones. What Nathan loves is Peter above him and below him and Peter around him. Nathan loves Peter curled up behind him, nose buried in Nathan's neck. Nathan cannot live without Peter pressed back against him, Nathan's hand holding on tightly to Peter's hip as Peter moans and whimpers and pushes back, wanting whatever Nathan will give him.
They have sex, they fuck, they meld and repair and protect and do their best to understand each other. During the day they are on their own, but at night they fix the missing bits and prepare each other to go out and do it all over again.
We are defined by who we cannot live without.
Nathan cannot live without Peter.
If Peter dies, Nathan will cease to exist. The shell will remain, but the soul will wither away into extinction; Nathan knows this. This is why his hands are shaking even as Peter moves against him, touching and breathing and living. Peter is alive, but in Nathan's head he can't get over the idea of Peter being dead. Nathan can't get over a limp, cold, lifeless body, and the idea that Peter would never smile for him again. That Peter would never laugh at Nathan's jokes or sulk when Nathan wouldn't pay attention to him. Nathan can feel the vibrations in the tendons of his wrists. He can feel the horror and the fear and the almost-loss under his skin. Nathan doesn't like it.
He doesn't like that Peter almost died and that he couldn't do anything about it and that Peter almost left him alone and --
"Hey, anybody home?" Peter is in Nathan's face. Peter is in Nathan's space. Peter is up on one elbow, staring down at Nathan with a mix of curiosity and something else. It's something new that Nathan is only just beginning to see -- perhaps it's Peter's post-death glow.
Nathan is defined by Peter.
Peter's hair is messy and disorderly, but it still has some semblance of the new style he's adopted. The bangs in Peter's face have been replaced with hair slicked back. Peter has adopted Nathan's hairstyle. Peter has adopted Nathan's attitude. Peter has always been stubborn, he has always walked his own path, but there is something new in Peter's eyes. There is steel there that Nathan is wary of. It's not zealotry. It's not Peter's desire to run off half-cocked. This is Peter's inner-Petrelli coming to the fore, and for the first time, Nathan is seeing something formidable. He's not sure what to make of it. It's either going to be the most amazing thing ever or it's going to scare him half to death -- it takes a moment for him to realize that the latter has already happened.
As much as we are defined and shaped by external influences, at the end of the day, we can only be ourselves. We change and grow and lose and bleed and rage, and then we wake up in the morning and do it all over again.
When Peter said he wanted to go home, Nathan couldn't -- wouldn't -- let him out of his sight. It was inevitable from the moment Peter came back to Nathan that they would end up here: with Peter's hands on Nathan's shoulders, and Peter's knees on either side of Nathan's hips, and Peter fucking himself furiously on Nathan's cock with Nathan looking up at him as though he's never seen Peter before in his life. As though Peter is the only thing tethering him to this life - because he is.
Being on top has nothing to do with your position during sex, and it's only Nathan's imagination that Peter's projecting this light from somewhere within. Instead, Nathan focuses on the fact that Peter is making him whole again. It's hard to feel agitated or aggrieved or blinded by loss when the person you love the most is making you feel more alive than you have since the day you were born.
Some things cannot be defined at all.
Afterwards, with Peter curled against his side, Nathan exhales through his nose and bangs his head softly against the mattress underneath him. "I thought," he begins without wanting to finish the rest. He knows what he thought and he doesn't want to talk about it anymore. Nathan never wants to talk about it again. Nathan never wants to think about it again, but he can't stop, because Peter almost died and it's like a song being transposed in his head:
"I don't know who I am without you."
Without you, I am nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
It's only much later, when Peter's drifted off to sleep, that Nathan starts to realize exactly how badly he's been caught. If all he has and all he is is defined by Peter, then he has no choice but to support Peter's campaign to save a world that's worthless without him in it. It's not just about Peter anymore -- if anything Peter's death has shown him that it has never been about him or Peter. It has always been about them together. Peter can't do it on his own, and apparently, neither can Nathan.
Peter came back for him -- Nathan knows this as surely as he knows the sun will rise tomorrow -- because it's not their time yet, but when it comes, Nathan will be ready.
The only question now is how to define whatever they have left.
-end-
Beta by antheia
Also, this is not what I set out to write, but it's what happened.
Heroes
Spoilers for 1.19 '.07%'
Nathan/Peter, R
def•i•ni•tion [ dèffə nísh'n ]
We are defined by who we are. What we are. Where we are.
Right now, Nathan Petrelli, an assistant district attorney from Westchester, is naked and unable to sleep and sharing a bed with his brother, Peter. Nathan is around 5'10 and 170 pounds. He has brown hair and hazel eyes from his father's side of the family. Nathan is married to a woman in a wheelchair -- who he put there indirectly -- and has two -- no -- three children. Two boys and a girl. A girl he doesn't know at all. Nathan is a father and a husband and a potential congressman. Nathan is in love with his wife and in love with his life, and today, when his younger brother died, all of it ceased to matter.
We are not defined by what we have. Or what we wear. Or we should not be defined by these things -- but 'should' and 'are' are not the same.
Nathan likes nice things. He likes nice clothing and good food and good wine. Nathan likes fast cars and beautiful women. Nathan has a tailor named Giuseppe. Giuseppe was Nathan's father's tailor and his grandfather's tailor. Giuseppe has been making Nathan clothing since before Nathan knew the difference between Brioni and Valentino. Nathan knows how to appreciate the tangible things in his life; he can be very materialistic, but his family gives to charity, so it all evens out in the end. Or it should even out in the end. But Nathan also should not love his brother in the ways he does. What they share would be called 'evil' and 'wrong' and 'bad' and 'dirty' by most people. Nathan would lose his wife. He would lose his children. Forget about his campaign and his job. Nathan could lose everything for Peter, and today he realized that it didn't matter. What they have is that all-consuming. Nathan and Peter are, and nothing will ever change that. Nathan has tried; Peter has tried, but they belong together, like the twins they never were. It is not about the sex -- although that is spectacular in ways Nathan can't even begin to recount -- it is not about possession -- although, Peter belongs to Nathan and Nathan belongs to Peter and no one will ever be able to break that.
Some things just are.
We are defined by what we think. Who we love. What we love.
Nathan thinks. Nathan has always been a thinker. He has always been several steps ahead of the curve; ten steps ahead in every game. Nathan's prescience is what makes him such an excellent chess player; it's what makes him a brilliant attorney. Nathan's foresight is what makes him think the people he loves are safe until he finds out that he's completely wrong. Claire. Heidi. Peter. Nathan loves his mother, his wife, his sons, his daughter, his job, his election. Except that none of these define who he is or what he is. None of these things are at Nathan's heart -- they are close, but they are not his center. They are not what gets him up in the morning or keeps him going at night. They are not what he leaves meetings for in the middle of the workday for or lies to his campaign manager about.
What Nathan loves is his hands on Peter's skin and Peter's warm breath on his collarbones. What Nathan loves is Peter above him and below him and Peter around him. Nathan loves Peter curled up behind him, nose buried in Nathan's neck. Nathan cannot live without Peter pressed back against him, Nathan's hand holding on tightly to Peter's hip as Peter moans and whimpers and pushes back, wanting whatever Nathan will give him.
They have sex, they fuck, they meld and repair and protect and do their best to understand each other. During the day they are on their own, but at night they fix the missing bits and prepare each other to go out and do it all over again.
We are defined by who we cannot live without.
Nathan cannot live without Peter.
If Peter dies, Nathan will cease to exist. The shell will remain, but the soul will wither away into extinction; Nathan knows this. This is why his hands are shaking even as Peter moves against him, touching and breathing and living. Peter is alive, but in Nathan's head he can't get over the idea of Peter being dead. Nathan can't get over a limp, cold, lifeless body, and the idea that Peter would never smile for him again. That Peter would never laugh at Nathan's jokes or sulk when Nathan wouldn't pay attention to him. Nathan can feel the vibrations in the tendons of his wrists. He can feel the horror and the fear and the almost-loss under his skin. Nathan doesn't like it.
He doesn't like that Peter almost died and that he couldn't do anything about it and that Peter almost left him alone and --
"Hey, anybody home?" Peter is in Nathan's face. Peter is in Nathan's space. Peter is up on one elbow, staring down at Nathan with a mix of curiosity and something else. It's something new that Nathan is only just beginning to see -- perhaps it's Peter's post-death glow.
Nathan is defined by Peter.
Peter's hair is messy and disorderly, but it still has some semblance of the new style he's adopted. The bangs in Peter's face have been replaced with hair slicked back. Peter has adopted Nathan's hairstyle. Peter has adopted Nathan's attitude. Peter has always been stubborn, he has always walked his own path, but there is something new in Peter's eyes. There is steel there that Nathan is wary of. It's not zealotry. It's not Peter's desire to run off half-cocked. This is Peter's inner-Petrelli coming to the fore, and for the first time, Nathan is seeing something formidable. He's not sure what to make of it. It's either going to be the most amazing thing ever or it's going to scare him half to death -- it takes a moment for him to realize that the latter has already happened.
As much as we are defined and shaped by external influences, at the end of the day, we can only be ourselves. We change and grow and lose and bleed and rage, and then we wake up in the morning and do it all over again.
When Peter said he wanted to go home, Nathan couldn't -- wouldn't -- let him out of his sight. It was inevitable from the moment Peter came back to Nathan that they would end up here: with Peter's hands on Nathan's shoulders, and Peter's knees on either side of Nathan's hips, and Peter fucking himself furiously on Nathan's cock with Nathan looking up at him as though he's never seen Peter before in his life. As though Peter is the only thing tethering him to this life - because he is.
Being on top has nothing to do with your position during sex, and it's only Nathan's imagination that Peter's projecting this light from somewhere within. Instead, Nathan focuses on the fact that Peter is making him whole again. It's hard to feel agitated or aggrieved or blinded by loss when the person you love the most is making you feel more alive than you have since the day you were born.
Some things cannot be defined at all.
Afterwards, with Peter curled against his side, Nathan exhales through his nose and bangs his head softly against the mattress underneath him. "I thought," he begins without wanting to finish the rest. He knows what he thought and he doesn't want to talk about it anymore. Nathan never wants to talk about it again. Nathan never wants to think about it again, but he can't stop, because Peter almost died and it's like a song being transposed in his head:
"I don't know who I am without you."
Without you, I am nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
It's only much later, when Peter's drifted off to sleep, that Nathan starts to realize exactly how badly he's been caught. If all he has and all he is is defined by Peter, then he has no choice but to support Peter's campaign to save a world that's worthless without him in it. It's not just about Peter anymore -- if anything Peter's death has shown him that it has never been about him or Peter. It has always been about them together. Peter can't do it on his own, and apparently, neither can Nathan.
Peter came back for him -- Nathan knows this as surely as he knows the sun will rise tomorrow -- because it's not their time yet, but when it comes, Nathan will be ready.
The only question now is how to define whatever they have left.
-end-
Beta by antheia