[fanfic] This Is Home (rated R)
Title: This Is Home
Author: tiptoe39
Rating: R for boys making out and probably having sex off-camera.
Summary: Matt comes home from Philly and he and Mohinder discuss their next steps. This was going to be the sequel to Telephone, but plot seeped in. I won't let it happen again, I swear. >:D
When Matt returned, Mohinder was pouring hot water into the second of two mugs on the kitchen table. A teabag poked out of one; the other was empty, but an array of teas were spread out in a fan nearby. He turned and smiled pleasantly. "Welcome back."
It wasn't at all the homecoming Matt expected. He closed the door behind him, took off his jacket, and scratched his head. "Uh, thanks."
"I made some tea," Mohinder said, his voice a little too animated. "I wasn't sure which kind you'd want to drink after your flight. That is, if you'd like tea at all. So I brought out a few--" Their eyes met and his voice faltered. "Oh, to hell with it." The kettle went down with a thud as Mohinder flew across the room and pushed Matt into the door, lips seeking his in an ecstatic kiss. Matt stared for a moment, then wrapped his arms around that slender waist, closing his eyes tight and pressing their bodies together.
Mohinder murmured aloud at the contact, and the kiss became fierce. His balance seemed to vanish and he toppled into Matt, trusting the door and those strong arms to hold him. When he finally had to gasp for breath, it was with regret. "I didn't think I would miss you this much," he said with some sadness, touching Matt's face with one delicate hand.
"It's good to be home," Matt said, nuzzling his ear. He breathed in deep that scent that had become so familiar and dear to him. This was home.
A few minutes later, they were acting like civilized people again, sitting across from each other at the kitchen table. Matt had chosen an herbal cinnamon blend, and its cloying sweetness was filling the room and quite overpowering Mohinder's chamomile. It felt comforting and safe to be here, among the familiar pots and pans and knick-knacks of home, and Matt could already feel the tension of the previous days' travails draining away. "So, no change, then?" he asked.
Mohinder shook his head over the dingy green teacup. "I've spoken to three of the on-site medical specialists, but they all say they can't get through to her," he sighed. "I really think that tracking down your father and forcing him to release her is our only chance at this point."
"Well, if he's targeting your boss, that shouldn't take long," Matt said. "The tracking down part, that is... the forcing might be harder." He leaned forward as if speaking in confidence, although there were only the two of them in the small apartment. "I think I might be able to fight off his power. I was able to break free. But I think I need more practice, and we may not have the time."
"So what do you propose?" Mohinder asked.
"The Company. It might have something. Or someone. Who can help me. Train me. Teach me to use my power better." Mohinder looked skeptical, and Matt sighed. "Look, I don't like how much we're having to depend on them. But if my dad's killing people and they can help me stop him, I don't see what other choice we've got. He has to be stopped."
"I know," said Mohinder, resigned. "I just wish--"
"He has to be stopped," Matt repeated, glowering. "You want to help Molly, don't you?"
"Of course I do!" burst out Mohinder. "I'll do anything to bring her back. You know that. Don't you?"
"We'll both bring her back." Matt's hand covered Mohinder's on the tabletop. "And we're going to make sure she never has a nightmare again." Stormclouds darkened his brow. "No matter what it takes."
Mohinder's eyes widened. He recognized those dark clouds, and he was fairly sure he didn't like the way they looked on Matt's face. "I know," he said quietly. "Let's do our best to be the kind of parents she needs." He turned his hand upward to interlace his fingers with Matt's.
Matt gazed at him. In the dim light, the large, dark eyes were flickering with specks of amber the color of candlelight. They were like fireflies, and Matt found himself watching them, fascinated by their darting movements. His face softened into a smile. "Right," he said. "Thank you." Mohinder didn't have to ask for what.
They sat in silence for a time, hands joined on the tabletop, appreciating the warmth that their newfound connection brought to this unremarkable home they shared.
"You know," said Matt somewhat shyly, "I catch myself daydreaming a lot about what it'll be like when this is all over. I think about taking Molly to the zoo. The Statue of Liberty."
"Radio City Music Hall," mused Mohinder.
"Up to Boston, down to D.C-- maybe even Florida..."
"The space center..."
"I was thinking more along the lines of Disney World," admitted Matt.
"Look at us." Mohinder smiled suddenly. "We're acting like parents. Who would have thought, given the examples we've had?"
"Ha!" Matt grinned as though this were the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "Imagine that!"
"I guess there's hope for us after all," Mohinder grinned, taking Matt's empty teacup and wandering over to the sink.
"Mm-hm," Matt nodded his assent, leaning back in his chair and staring at the ceiling. Another blessed moment of quiet lingered, as though a white sheet had billowed down from the rafters, making everything clean and bright and fresh again.
"Matt?" Mohinder's back was still to him.
"Mm-hm?"
When there was no answer, Matt tilted his head toward the sink.
Mohinder turned around slowly. His eyes had slitted slightly and there was a flush in his cheeks. "I think-- I think it's time for bed."
"Oh, OK..." Matt got up with a loud groan, leaning over the back of his chair to stretch. "It's late, I guess..."
No.
Matt paused in mid-stretch.
I mean, it's time you took me to bed.
"Oh." Eyes widened, but only for a fraction of a second. "You don't have to tell me twice." He kicked his chair backwards and closed the distance between them with long, sure strides. Bending to kiss him, Matt ran anxious fingertips along his wrist and up to his shoulders, embracing him, hands on the small of his back. Mohinder was melting into him, fists on his chest grabbing handfuls of his shirt, curls of hair tickling Matt's forehead. Matt knew then just how badly Mohinder had been suppressing his desire, how much he'd fought to keep control. The idea that he could do that, provoke that reaction from a man who should be out of his league, drove him crazy. He leaned over, bending Mohinder backwards slightly so his back arched beneath Matt's palms.
Mohinder growled low in his throat and, with a burst of strength, reversed their positions to Matt was the one arching backward into the counter's edge, one leg thrust between Mohinder's in an impatient intimacy. He gasped at the sudden domination, pushing back a little, suddenly rock-hard and straining at Mohinder's thigh. He grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him deeply, ferociously. They broke apart only to pant, both winded from the intensity of the contact.
"I missed you, too," said Matt, amusement in his voice.
"Don't speak," begged Mohinder as their mouths found each other again.
They fumbled their awkwardly passionate way through the kitchen, Mohinder stepping backwards, one hand clinging to Matt and the other vainly groping for unseen obstacles. When they reached the edge of the living room, Mohinder's knees buckled around the end of the sofa, and he toppled backward, reflexively grabbing Matt with both hands, pulling him down on top of him. The sudden weight and heat of him seemed to turn Mohinder to molten gold. He was burning and flowing inside as though he were a forge on which a sword was being tempered.
Matt had found his throat and was not leaving anytime soon. Not when the odd lick just west or south of where it was expected, on skin so smooth and sensitive it was like shuddering velvet, seemed to pull forth such uninhibited, expressive, incoherent moans. And the best part of being in Mohinder's neck was that he could feel against his cheek the tautness of the man's jaw, which told him Mohinder was smiling. He loved to make him moan, but to make him smile was bliss beyond words.
"Matt-- ah--" Mohinder fought for coherence. "Hold on a second--"
"Shut up," muttered Matt into his neck.
"Matt, there's no room here--"
"Cry me a river." In his shoulder, now, hands unbuttoning his shirt, uncovering inch after delicious inch of skin.
"Matt, for God's sake, I want to enjoy this!" Somehow he managed to throw the larger man off him and sit up. His face was deep red, and his breaths came heavily and raggedly.
Matt looked a little shell-shocked at the sudden rejection. "What-- I'm sorry-- Did I--"
Mohinder smiled.
Matt had long ago decided that all of Mohinder's smiles were magical but that some were extraordinary. This one stunned him into silence.
Leaning forward onto his hands, Mohinder crawled across the couch to him. Like a leopard, Matt thought. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, could barely breathe as Mohinder dipped his head into the crook of Matt's neck to whisper in his ear.
"We have all night. Nobody's here. Nobody's going to interrupt us. Let's take our time."
The words, soft as they were in his ear, rang in Matt's consciousness like a great, tolling bell. He felt as though his life were at a crossroads at the utterance of this one revolutionary idea.
He had always been so ruled by his passions, be they lust or anger or fear, that he barely ever stopped moving. There was always another death to prevent, another bad guy to capture, another messy personal entanglement to flee before it became too oppressive. He had been on track to do the same thing here. To run through the motions at full speed, take what pleasure could be taken, and escape before he had a chance of being hurt. But he didn't want this to be just like everything else in his life had been.
He realized, looking deep into Mohinder's eyes-- those eyes so full of openness and giving-- that he ran the risk of burning out this flame too quickly and leaving himself once again in the dark. And Mohinder's eyes were telling him, I am willing to be hurt by you. I am willing to give you the best and the worst of me. And Matt wanted, for what felt like the first time in his life, to give himself in return.
What Mohinder was proposing, he thought, his heart aching with the wideness and depth of his emotion, was a destination. A chance to stop running, to look around and see where he was. A chance to decide, This is the place I have been running to. This is the place I ought to be.
This is home.
Wordlessly, he opened both his palms, offering his hands to Mohinder, who took them. They stood and smiled.
"Stay with me," Matt said, seriously.
Mohinder nodded. "Come on," he whispered.
They started down the hall to the bedroom, walking very slowly. After all, they had all night.
This may have a sequel of its own but it won't be printed in this journal. These boys better let me go for enough time to do NaNoWriMo, damn it.
Author: tiptoe39
Rating: R for boys making out and probably having sex off-camera.
Summary: Matt comes home from Philly and he and Mohinder discuss their next steps. This was going to be the sequel to Telephone, but plot seeped in. I won't let it happen again, I swear. >:D
When Matt returned, Mohinder was pouring hot water into the second of two mugs on the kitchen table. A teabag poked out of one; the other was empty, but an array of teas were spread out in a fan nearby. He turned and smiled pleasantly. "Welcome back."
It wasn't at all the homecoming Matt expected. He closed the door behind him, took off his jacket, and scratched his head. "Uh, thanks."
"I made some tea," Mohinder said, his voice a little too animated. "I wasn't sure which kind you'd want to drink after your flight. That is, if you'd like tea at all. So I brought out a few--" Their eyes met and his voice faltered. "Oh, to hell with it." The kettle went down with a thud as Mohinder flew across the room and pushed Matt into the door, lips seeking his in an ecstatic kiss. Matt stared for a moment, then wrapped his arms around that slender waist, closing his eyes tight and pressing their bodies together.
Mohinder murmured aloud at the contact, and the kiss became fierce. His balance seemed to vanish and he toppled into Matt, trusting the door and those strong arms to hold him. When he finally had to gasp for breath, it was with regret. "I didn't think I would miss you this much," he said with some sadness, touching Matt's face with one delicate hand.
"It's good to be home," Matt said, nuzzling his ear. He breathed in deep that scent that had become so familiar and dear to him. This was home.
A few minutes later, they were acting like civilized people again, sitting across from each other at the kitchen table. Matt had chosen an herbal cinnamon blend, and its cloying sweetness was filling the room and quite overpowering Mohinder's chamomile. It felt comforting and safe to be here, among the familiar pots and pans and knick-knacks of home, and Matt could already feel the tension of the previous days' travails draining away. "So, no change, then?" he asked.
Mohinder shook his head over the dingy green teacup. "I've spoken to three of the on-site medical specialists, but they all say they can't get through to her," he sighed. "I really think that tracking down your father and forcing him to release her is our only chance at this point."
"Well, if he's targeting your boss, that shouldn't take long," Matt said. "The tracking down part, that is... the forcing might be harder." He leaned forward as if speaking in confidence, although there were only the two of them in the small apartment. "I think I might be able to fight off his power. I was able to break free. But I think I need more practice, and we may not have the time."
"So what do you propose?" Mohinder asked.
"The Company. It might have something. Or someone. Who can help me. Train me. Teach me to use my power better." Mohinder looked skeptical, and Matt sighed. "Look, I don't like how much we're having to depend on them. But if my dad's killing people and they can help me stop him, I don't see what other choice we've got. He has to be stopped."
"I know," said Mohinder, resigned. "I just wish--"
"He has to be stopped," Matt repeated, glowering. "You want to help Molly, don't you?"
"Of course I do!" burst out Mohinder. "I'll do anything to bring her back. You know that. Don't you?"
"We'll both bring her back." Matt's hand covered Mohinder's on the tabletop. "And we're going to make sure she never has a nightmare again." Stormclouds darkened his brow. "No matter what it takes."
Mohinder's eyes widened. He recognized those dark clouds, and he was fairly sure he didn't like the way they looked on Matt's face. "I know," he said quietly. "Let's do our best to be the kind of parents she needs." He turned his hand upward to interlace his fingers with Matt's.
Matt gazed at him. In the dim light, the large, dark eyes were flickering with specks of amber the color of candlelight. They were like fireflies, and Matt found himself watching them, fascinated by their darting movements. His face softened into a smile. "Right," he said. "Thank you." Mohinder didn't have to ask for what.
They sat in silence for a time, hands joined on the tabletop, appreciating the warmth that their newfound connection brought to this unremarkable home they shared.
"You know," said Matt somewhat shyly, "I catch myself daydreaming a lot about what it'll be like when this is all over. I think about taking Molly to the zoo. The Statue of Liberty."
"Radio City Music Hall," mused Mohinder.
"Up to Boston, down to D.C-- maybe even Florida..."
"The space center..."
"I was thinking more along the lines of Disney World," admitted Matt.
"Look at us." Mohinder smiled suddenly. "We're acting like parents. Who would have thought, given the examples we've had?"
"Ha!" Matt grinned as though this were the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "Imagine that!"
"I guess there's hope for us after all," Mohinder grinned, taking Matt's empty teacup and wandering over to the sink.
"Mm-hm," Matt nodded his assent, leaning back in his chair and staring at the ceiling. Another blessed moment of quiet lingered, as though a white sheet had billowed down from the rafters, making everything clean and bright and fresh again.
"Matt?" Mohinder's back was still to him.
"Mm-hm?"
When there was no answer, Matt tilted his head toward the sink.
Mohinder turned around slowly. His eyes had slitted slightly and there was a flush in his cheeks. "I think-- I think it's time for bed."
"Oh, OK..." Matt got up with a loud groan, leaning over the back of his chair to stretch. "It's late, I guess..."
No.
Matt paused in mid-stretch.
I mean, it's time you took me to bed.
"Oh." Eyes widened, but only for a fraction of a second. "You don't have to tell me twice." He kicked his chair backwards and closed the distance between them with long, sure strides. Bending to kiss him, Matt ran anxious fingertips along his wrist and up to his shoulders, embracing him, hands on the small of his back. Mohinder was melting into him, fists on his chest grabbing handfuls of his shirt, curls of hair tickling Matt's forehead. Matt knew then just how badly Mohinder had been suppressing his desire, how much he'd fought to keep control. The idea that he could do that, provoke that reaction from a man who should be out of his league, drove him crazy. He leaned over, bending Mohinder backwards slightly so his back arched beneath Matt's palms.
Mohinder growled low in his throat and, with a burst of strength, reversed their positions to Matt was the one arching backward into the counter's edge, one leg thrust between Mohinder's in an impatient intimacy. He gasped at the sudden domination, pushing back a little, suddenly rock-hard and straining at Mohinder's thigh. He grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him deeply, ferociously. They broke apart only to pant, both winded from the intensity of the contact.
"I missed you, too," said Matt, amusement in his voice.
"Don't speak," begged Mohinder as their mouths found each other again.
They fumbled their awkwardly passionate way through the kitchen, Mohinder stepping backwards, one hand clinging to Matt and the other vainly groping for unseen obstacles. When they reached the edge of the living room, Mohinder's knees buckled around the end of the sofa, and he toppled backward, reflexively grabbing Matt with both hands, pulling him down on top of him. The sudden weight and heat of him seemed to turn Mohinder to molten gold. He was burning and flowing inside as though he were a forge on which a sword was being tempered.
Matt had found his throat and was not leaving anytime soon. Not when the odd lick just west or south of where it was expected, on skin so smooth and sensitive it was like shuddering velvet, seemed to pull forth such uninhibited, expressive, incoherent moans. And the best part of being in Mohinder's neck was that he could feel against his cheek the tautness of the man's jaw, which told him Mohinder was smiling. He loved to make him moan, but to make him smile was bliss beyond words.
"Matt-- ah--" Mohinder fought for coherence. "Hold on a second--"
"Shut up," muttered Matt into his neck.
"Matt, there's no room here--"
"Cry me a river." In his shoulder, now, hands unbuttoning his shirt, uncovering inch after delicious inch of skin.
"Matt, for God's sake, I want to enjoy this!" Somehow he managed to throw the larger man off him and sit up. His face was deep red, and his breaths came heavily and raggedly.
Matt looked a little shell-shocked at the sudden rejection. "What-- I'm sorry-- Did I--"
Mohinder smiled.
Matt had long ago decided that all of Mohinder's smiles were magical but that some were extraordinary. This one stunned him into silence.
Leaning forward onto his hands, Mohinder crawled across the couch to him. Like a leopard, Matt thought. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, could barely breathe as Mohinder dipped his head into the crook of Matt's neck to whisper in his ear.
"We have all night. Nobody's here. Nobody's going to interrupt us. Let's take our time."
The words, soft as they were in his ear, rang in Matt's consciousness like a great, tolling bell. He felt as though his life were at a crossroads at the utterance of this one revolutionary idea.
He had always been so ruled by his passions, be they lust or anger or fear, that he barely ever stopped moving. There was always another death to prevent, another bad guy to capture, another messy personal entanglement to flee before it became too oppressive. He had been on track to do the same thing here. To run through the motions at full speed, take what pleasure could be taken, and escape before he had a chance of being hurt. But he didn't want this to be just like everything else in his life had been.
He realized, looking deep into Mohinder's eyes-- those eyes so full of openness and giving-- that he ran the risk of burning out this flame too quickly and leaving himself once again in the dark. And Mohinder's eyes were telling him, I am willing to be hurt by you. I am willing to give you the best and the worst of me. And Matt wanted, for what felt like the first time in his life, to give himself in return.
What Mohinder was proposing, he thought, his heart aching with the wideness and depth of his emotion, was a destination. A chance to stop running, to look around and see where he was. A chance to decide, This is the place I have been running to. This is the place I ought to be.
This is home.
Wordlessly, he opened both his palms, offering his hands to Mohinder, who took them. They stood and smiled.
"Stay with me," Matt said, seriously.
Mohinder nodded. "Come on," he whispered.
They started down the hall to the bedroom, walking very slowly. After all, they had all night.
This may have a sequel of its own but it won't be printed in this journal. These boys better let me go for enough time to do NaNoWriMo, damn it.