Fic Exchange -- Written for indyhat
Title: Windsor Knots
Rating: R
Pairing: Nathan/Claude
Spoilers/Warnings (if any): N/A
Prompts: Neckties, guilt and mirrors
Summary: "The wedding is about as interesting as any wedding ever is - which is to say that Claude spends the entire ceremony wishing he could pull his brain out through his ears just so that he doesn't have to take any more."
Nathan's the type of man that flows into a suit like water through a pipe - it's natural and easy and never seems to stop. Claude doubts if he's ever seen the man in 'casual wear'. For Nathan Petrelli, casual probably means undoing the top button on his shirt.
For Claude, suits are a reminder of the past - of his days with that false paper company and of betraying his own kind for a cause he should've never believed in. He'd thought he was doing good. He'd been naïve and foolish and innocent, but he knows better now. He's grown up - grown-up into a grouchy and angry man currently having his tie done for him by a corrupt politician.
Wonderful. His dear old mum would be so proud.
He snorts at the thought of her and reaches up to bat Nathan's careful hands away. "I can do it myself," he says.
Nathan rolls his eyes and refuses to move away. Claude can hear the swipe of material as Nathan teases it through a ring of complicated manoeuvres. "I've seen your version of a tie," he grumbles. "It looked as if you'd tried to strangle it."
"Maybe I had. I hate these things. Made for posh blokes to show off in. And you're doing it too tight."
"Fine," Nathan says, taking a step back. "You do it then."
There's an expectant demand in his voice accompanied by a raised eyebrow: a challenge to do it half as well as he could, and that really isn't fair. The Petrellis have probably been tying ties since before they could angst - seeing as Claude reckons they were born with puppy dog eyes and the world on their shoulders, that's a bloody long time to have been acquainted with the art of tying stupid bits of material in pansy-assed knots.
He scowls and turns towards the mirror that stands in the corner of the room. The damn thing is taller than he is and shows his full reflection: black suit, undone tie, frown and all. He's had to shave for this dumb event. His jaw looks naked and wrong - worse than that, it looks vulnerable. What's going to protect him now when he gets slapped for hitting on the bridesmaids?
Nathan's still watching expectantly with an arched eyebrow, so Claude looks down at the material with a sigh. Not fair. So not fair. Why did he agree to come to this thing anyway? He has a creeping suspicion that it's all Peter's fault that he's in this mess. The kid has a nasty habit of getting him into annoying situations like this, all because of a flash of those puppy-dog eyes or a flip of that insane hair.
He fumbles with the material but his hands are clumsy under the expectant weight of Nathan's gaze - they feel clumsy like they've swollen to an uncontrollable size, dead weights on the ends of his arms.
"You want me to help?" Nathan asks, and Claude can hear the smugness in his voice.
"No," he snaps, but Nathan doesn't listen. Of course he doesn't, the sodding bastard doesn't give a shit about personal space - Claude's seen how he acts with his brother. Now Nathan's right behind him, hands reaching over his shoulders to take the tie in his hands. They're roughly the same height so Nathan must be stretching to be able to see properly; Claude wonders if he ought to squat down to make it easier, but all he can do is watch how nimbly Nathan's hands move, like it's the easiest thing in the world.
There's a simple elegance to them, to the efficiency of the movement. A gold wedding band shines on Nathan's finger but Claude can ignore it as his heart pounds. It's been a long time since anyone was this close to him - a long time since he's let anyone this close to him, and the last person was probably Peter when he was saving his life. Now it's Nathan saving his appearance and that doesn't really have the same ring to it.
Claude debates turning invisible to get out of the situation but he can just imagine the punishment he'd receive if he skipped out of town early: it's not Nathan that scares him, but Angela. He doesn't think he's ever met a scarier woman - or a scarier person - than Angela Petrelli.
He can feel the heat radiating from Nathan's body against him, so real and impossible to ignore. His eyes close to block out the reflection; he doesn't need to see this. Life is easier when you keep your distance, he's always told himself that - he always told Peter that too, but it doesn't seem that the advice stuck too well.
Nathan eases the tie up so that it sits comfortably against Claude's white shirt, a perfect Windsor knot. It looks neat and tidy and is so completely not what Claude's used to. He feels as if he's accidentally fallen into someone else's body. "It's too tight," he complains.
Nathan chuckles and ignores him, hands moving to his shoulders to turn him around. Dark eyes evaluate him, running down his body then up again thoughtfully. Claude can feel his gaze like a pair of hands that wander to places he's sure they should stay away from.
"It looks perfect," Nathan states, "And you know it."
Maybe he does and maybe he doesn't but Claude refuses to answer anyway. He refuses to meet Nathan's eyes as the man smoothes his hands over the tie then along the shoulders of his suits. It's a perfunctory check, nothing to read into it, but Claude's convinced he must be blushing like a school girl. Trying to remind himself that he's a grown man, older than Nathan, doesn't help. Damn.
"C'mon," Nathan says - there's a knowing smile in his voice that says he knows exactly the effect that he's having on Claude. Claude kinda wants to punch him for that, but he knows that Peter will be pissed if his best man shows up with a black eye. He'll hold back, for now. "Pete'll kill us if we're late."
As Claude follows the politician out of the room, he wonders if that would be so bad.
*
The wedding is about as interesting as any wedding ever is - which is to say that Claude spends the entire ceremony wishing he could pull his brain out through his ears just so that he doesn't have to take any more. Nathan manages to stand attentively at the front, looking proud and dutiful, but Claude is hardly surprised. Nathan fakes emotions for a living.
The ceremony fades in and out around him and before he knows it he's at the reception, watching Noah dance with his perky blonde daughter. His old colleague's had more than a little too much to drink so his movements could stand to be a little more coordinated: Claude thinks it's a sign that they're finally old when Bennet has started doing the 'dodgy dad dancing'. He sighs and drinks from his beer bottle.
"You look like you could be having a better time," Nathan's slick voice says as he sits down beside Claude at the otherwise empty table. The guests that had been stuck sitting with him for the dinner disappeared at the first chance they had - Claude can't say he'd cared. He'd been perfectly content before Nathan parked himself there. "Something wrong?"
"Yeah," Claude complains. "This whole thing is 'wrong'. I'm not the wedding type, mate." He reaches up to loosen his tie to a point where he feels a little more like himself. It hangs like a laughing noose limply around his neck. "Not like you. You must've been a sodding wedding singer in another life."
It's meant as an insult but Nathan grins anyway, all teeth and glinting eyes. Claude slumps down and knows that Peter would've been yelping protests by now. "It's gonna be ending soon," Nathan says, "So you won't have to put up with it much longer."
"Good," Claude snorts as he stares at a burst balloon on the floor.
"If you want to," Nathan says with his voice calm and level, "You could come back to mine tonight. It'll save you from getting a hotel room."
As much as Claude wants to chuckle and point out that for an invisible man the acquisition of beds and money was hardly a difficult thing, and that he's sure the Petrelli family home would retch at the idea of someone like him stepping over the threshold, he gets the feeling that it isn't just a bed on offer - that's something that makes this whole wedding seem a little more worthwhile.
"And here I was thinking the kid was the interesting one," he murmurs to himself, before he glances to Nathan. Nathan's eyes are far from him, though, watching Heidi and Niki chatting animatedly at the opposite side of the room.
Nathan shrugs. "See you after," he states, before he stands up and smiles that bright, fake smile and goes to socialise among the socialites. Claude rolls his eyes and takes another drink.
*
There's something pleasantly satisfying to pinning Nathan against the nearest wall and grinding into him, wiping that constant smile from his face and replacing it with a quiet, whispered 'yes…'
There's something even more satisfying about the feeling of a mouth against his own, of Nathan's fingers threading through his hair, of thrusting hips clashing against him. It's been way too long, he tells himself. Way too long, so it's hardly surprising that he feels like he's going to lose it just from the sensation of Nathan's hand exploring between them.
He reaches for the red tie around Nathan's neck, loosening the knot then pulling him backwards with it.
He hasn't got much of an idea where it is that Nathan's dear wife has disappeared off to but when he shoves Nathan down onto the bed he doesn't think he cares all that much. Whatever bizarre arrangement lives within this couple is of no business of his.
He climbs on top of Nathan's body, but that positioning lasts for only a few moments before Nathan flips them and the world spins. Claude lands on his back with Nathan's weight above him, his head resting on one of the bed's pillows, but before he can think to object Nathan's lips are on his once more, which as it turns out is a highly effective method of getting him to shut the hell up.
He grunts and his hips grind up against Nathan's - there's friction and Nathan's hands are shedding clothing faster than Claude can keep up with and their ties and shirts have been flung away to the floor and Claude just can't stop touching that chest, running his fingers over it and through the light brush of hair. Nathan groans and bites down on his neck: it feels like the world is ending and beginning all at once.
*
When he wakes from the sex-induced sleep - little short of a coma, really - Nathan's already left for work and the bed is cold beside him. Claude chuckles to himself as he rolls over, in no hurry to leave even though he should probably get going.
Maybe weddings aren't quite as bad as he'd previously believed.
Rating: R
Pairing: Nathan/Claude
Spoilers/Warnings (if any): N/A
Prompts: Neckties, guilt and mirrors
Summary: "The wedding is about as interesting as any wedding ever is - which is to say that Claude spends the entire ceremony wishing he could pull his brain out through his ears just so that he doesn't have to take any more."
Nathan's the type of man that flows into a suit like water through a pipe - it's natural and easy and never seems to stop. Claude doubts if he's ever seen the man in 'casual wear'. For Nathan Petrelli, casual probably means undoing the top button on his shirt.
For Claude, suits are a reminder of the past - of his days with that false paper company and of betraying his own kind for a cause he should've never believed in. He'd thought he was doing good. He'd been naïve and foolish and innocent, but he knows better now. He's grown up - grown-up into a grouchy and angry man currently having his tie done for him by a corrupt politician.
Wonderful. His dear old mum would be so proud.
He snorts at the thought of her and reaches up to bat Nathan's careful hands away. "I can do it myself," he says.
Nathan rolls his eyes and refuses to move away. Claude can hear the swipe of material as Nathan teases it through a ring of complicated manoeuvres. "I've seen your version of a tie," he grumbles. "It looked as if you'd tried to strangle it."
"Maybe I had. I hate these things. Made for posh blokes to show off in. And you're doing it too tight."
"Fine," Nathan says, taking a step back. "You do it then."
There's an expectant demand in his voice accompanied by a raised eyebrow: a challenge to do it half as well as he could, and that really isn't fair. The Petrellis have probably been tying ties since before they could angst - seeing as Claude reckons they were born with puppy dog eyes and the world on their shoulders, that's a bloody long time to have been acquainted with the art of tying stupid bits of material in pansy-assed knots.
He scowls and turns towards the mirror that stands in the corner of the room. The damn thing is taller than he is and shows his full reflection: black suit, undone tie, frown and all. He's had to shave for this dumb event. His jaw looks naked and wrong - worse than that, it looks vulnerable. What's going to protect him now when he gets slapped for hitting on the bridesmaids?
Nathan's still watching expectantly with an arched eyebrow, so Claude looks down at the material with a sigh. Not fair. So not fair. Why did he agree to come to this thing anyway? He has a creeping suspicion that it's all Peter's fault that he's in this mess. The kid has a nasty habit of getting him into annoying situations like this, all because of a flash of those puppy-dog eyes or a flip of that insane hair.
He fumbles with the material but his hands are clumsy under the expectant weight of Nathan's gaze - they feel clumsy like they've swollen to an uncontrollable size, dead weights on the ends of his arms.
"You want me to help?" Nathan asks, and Claude can hear the smugness in his voice.
"No," he snaps, but Nathan doesn't listen. Of course he doesn't, the sodding bastard doesn't give a shit about personal space - Claude's seen how he acts with his brother. Now Nathan's right behind him, hands reaching over his shoulders to take the tie in his hands. They're roughly the same height so Nathan must be stretching to be able to see properly; Claude wonders if he ought to squat down to make it easier, but all he can do is watch how nimbly Nathan's hands move, like it's the easiest thing in the world.
There's a simple elegance to them, to the efficiency of the movement. A gold wedding band shines on Nathan's finger but Claude can ignore it as his heart pounds. It's been a long time since anyone was this close to him - a long time since he's let anyone this close to him, and the last person was probably Peter when he was saving his life. Now it's Nathan saving his appearance and that doesn't really have the same ring to it.
Claude debates turning invisible to get out of the situation but he can just imagine the punishment he'd receive if he skipped out of town early: it's not Nathan that scares him, but Angela. He doesn't think he's ever met a scarier woman - or a scarier person - than Angela Petrelli.
He can feel the heat radiating from Nathan's body against him, so real and impossible to ignore. His eyes close to block out the reflection; he doesn't need to see this. Life is easier when you keep your distance, he's always told himself that - he always told Peter that too, but it doesn't seem that the advice stuck too well.
Nathan eases the tie up so that it sits comfortably against Claude's white shirt, a perfect Windsor knot. It looks neat and tidy and is so completely not what Claude's used to. He feels as if he's accidentally fallen into someone else's body. "It's too tight," he complains.
Nathan chuckles and ignores him, hands moving to his shoulders to turn him around. Dark eyes evaluate him, running down his body then up again thoughtfully. Claude can feel his gaze like a pair of hands that wander to places he's sure they should stay away from.
"It looks perfect," Nathan states, "And you know it."
Maybe he does and maybe he doesn't but Claude refuses to answer anyway. He refuses to meet Nathan's eyes as the man smoothes his hands over the tie then along the shoulders of his suits. It's a perfunctory check, nothing to read into it, but Claude's convinced he must be blushing like a school girl. Trying to remind himself that he's a grown man, older than Nathan, doesn't help. Damn.
"C'mon," Nathan says - there's a knowing smile in his voice that says he knows exactly the effect that he's having on Claude. Claude kinda wants to punch him for that, but he knows that Peter will be pissed if his best man shows up with a black eye. He'll hold back, for now. "Pete'll kill us if we're late."
As Claude follows the politician out of the room, he wonders if that would be so bad.
*
The wedding is about as interesting as any wedding ever is - which is to say that Claude spends the entire ceremony wishing he could pull his brain out through his ears just so that he doesn't have to take any more. Nathan manages to stand attentively at the front, looking proud and dutiful, but Claude is hardly surprised. Nathan fakes emotions for a living.
The ceremony fades in and out around him and before he knows it he's at the reception, watching Noah dance with his perky blonde daughter. His old colleague's had more than a little too much to drink so his movements could stand to be a little more coordinated: Claude thinks it's a sign that they're finally old when Bennet has started doing the 'dodgy dad dancing'. He sighs and drinks from his beer bottle.
"You look like you could be having a better time," Nathan's slick voice says as he sits down beside Claude at the otherwise empty table. The guests that had been stuck sitting with him for the dinner disappeared at the first chance they had - Claude can't say he'd cared. He'd been perfectly content before Nathan parked himself there. "Something wrong?"
"Yeah," Claude complains. "This whole thing is 'wrong'. I'm not the wedding type, mate." He reaches up to loosen his tie to a point where he feels a little more like himself. It hangs like a laughing noose limply around his neck. "Not like you. You must've been a sodding wedding singer in another life."
It's meant as an insult but Nathan grins anyway, all teeth and glinting eyes. Claude slumps down and knows that Peter would've been yelping protests by now. "It's gonna be ending soon," Nathan says, "So you won't have to put up with it much longer."
"Good," Claude snorts as he stares at a burst balloon on the floor.
"If you want to," Nathan says with his voice calm and level, "You could come back to mine tonight. It'll save you from getting a hotel room."
As much as Claude wants to chuckle and point out that for an invisible man the acquisition of beds and money was hardly a difficult thing, and that he's sure the Petrelli family home would retch at the idea of someone like him stepping over the threshold, he gets the feeling that it isn't just a bed on offer - that's something that makes this whole wedding seem a little more worthwhile.
"And here I was thinking the kid was the interesting one," he murmurs to himself, before he glances to Nathan. Nathan's eyes are far from him, though, watching Heidi and Niki chatting animatedly at the opposite side of the room.
Nathan shrugs. "See you after," he states, before he stands up and smiles that bright, fake smile and goes to socialise among the socialites. Claude rolls his eyes and takes another drink.
*
There's something pleasantly satisfying to pinning Nathan against the nearest wall and grinding into him, wiping that constant smile from his face and replacing it with a quiet, whispered 'yes…'
There's something even more satisfying about the feeling of a mouth against his own, of Nathan's fingers threading through his hair, of thrusting hips clashing against him. It's been way too long, he tells himself. Way too long, so it's hardly surprising that he feels like he's going to lose it just from the sensation of Nathan's hand exploring between them.
He reaches for the red tie around Nathan's neck, loosening the knot then pulling him backwards with it.
He hasn't got much of an idea where it is that Nathan's dear wife has disappeared off to but when he shoves Nathan down onto the bed he doesn't think he cares all that much. Whatever bizarre arrangement lives within this couple is of no business of his.
He climbs on top of Nathan's body, but that positioning lasts for only a few moments before Nathan flips them and the world spins. Claude lands on his back with Nathan's weight above him, his head resting on one of the bed's pillows, but before he can think to object Nathan's lips are on his once more, which as it turns out is a highly effective method of getting him to shut the hell up.
He grunts and his hips grind up against Nathan's - there's friction and Nathan's hands are shedding clothing faster than Claude can keep up with and their ties and shirts have been flung away to the floor and Claude just can't stop touching that chest, running his fingers over it and through the light brush of hair. Nathan groans and bites down on his neck: it feels like the world is ending and beginning all at once.
*
When he wakes from the sex-induced sleep - little short of a coma, really - Nathan's already left for work and the bed is cold beside him. Claude chuckles to himself as he rolls over, in no hurry to leave even though he should probably get going.
Maybe weddings aren't quite as bad as he'd previously believed.