Peter had always wanted Nathan, but he'd learned to push that want to the back of his mind. Because he knew, after all, that he'd never get Nathan. Because he was his brother and besides was married with two children.

Things had somehow got back to normal after the explosion in the sky. Nathan was now a regular congressman. It was like everybody who mattered had been give a memory wipe about anything that mattered. Sylar had disappeared; his dead body had never been found. But a year had gone by without anything suspiciously Sylar-ish.

Anyway. Peter went back to being a nurse, tried to see Nathan as much as was possible (often dropping over for the now decidedly existent family brunch), and wondering what to do with his life.

Peter had settled with brotherly hugs, pats, shoulder-squeezes and kisses, knowing he'd never get to do the Nasty with Nathan. (It was nasty and wrong after all). Even with the family brunches, Peter barely saw Nathan-the-busy-congressman.

Which was why he was extremely surprised to open his door on a Friday night to find his brother standing before him, dressed in a casual dark blue windcheater and slacks. He was alone, too.

"Nathan!" He said, in surprise, and stepped aside to let his brother in, closing the door behind him.

"Hello, Pete," Nathan replied.

Peter was grinning rather inanely. "Aren't you busy tonight, congressman?"

"No, it's a Friday."

Peter frowned. "You work on Sundays, man." Was it his imagination, or did Nathan look caught off-guard? Why the heck would he, anyway?

"Well, I wanted to see you tonight."

Peter returned the smile, though still slightly confused.

"I love you, man."

"I love you too." Now that was out of the blue. Usually it was Peter who initiated the I love you conversation.

"Good," Nathan said, and then Peter's eyes grew wide as the older Petrelli leaned in, hands on his shoulders, and kissed him squarely on the lips.

What the fuck?

"Mmmm-mnafthan-"

"Shh," his brother said, and kissed him again, harder, with tongue this time.

Oh, fuck this. Peter kissed back eagerly, desperately, trying to grind up against Nathan as he backed them into the bedroom.

"Take it off;" Nathan fumbled with the hem of Peter's shirt. "Take it off."

Oh, fuck. Last night had been a glorious marathon of hot, dirtywrongbad but so-fucking-good sex. Peter rolled over and admired the sight of his naked brother in the sheets beside him.

"Nathan," he whispered, and kissed his neck.

So then he'd left, and left Peter grinning and ecstatic, if a little sore elsewhere. It was completely bizarre, but who the hell was complaining?

He didn't see Nathan again until the next family brunch. He'd debated whether he should show up or not - it had to be a little awkward even if no one knew what had happened. Surely somebody would notice something.

But they'd notice his absence and ask Nathan why his brother hadn't turned up, so he decided to go.

Nathan greeted Peter like he usually did - friendly, loving, too-busy-to-spend-time-and-missing-you-so-much older brother, and Peter thought, the sly bastard. There was no hint or clue or anything different at all.

And when Nathan finally caught one of the meaningful, seductive winks Peter constantly threw at him when he thought Heidi and the kids couldn't possibly see, he frowned, looking beautifully and realistically confused, and given him a puzzled smile back.

Peter felt absolutely blessed when Heidi suggested that Nathan finally take one Sunday off to spend with his poor deprived-of-company brother. Nathan looked doubtful at the suggestion; Heidi pushed, as did Peter, and he finally nodded. "Alright. I'll just take a break today."

"Yay, Dad's staying home today," Monty said.

"Yeah, but you're not," Heidi said. "Remember today is Jeffrey's birthday party at Coney Island?"

"Oh yeah!" Simon said, happily.

"Guess I'm not needed here at all," Nathan said, smiling into his coffee cup.

"I need you," Peter whined, and the table laughed.

If only they knew, Peter thought.

They were alone in the house. Oh how could Peter be so lucky suddenly?

"So, Pete." Nathan asked. "Where do you want to go?"

Peter laughed. Still joking, was the man. "We're not going anywhere, Nathan." It was Sunday. After brunch, the house servants were off-duty.

Alone, the two of them.

Nathan looked bemused. "Oh. I thought you'd..."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Come on."

Nathan followed Peter up the stairs and across the landing, and stared when they stopped outside the bedroom. "This is where you're taking me?"

"Very funny," Peter said, and pulled his brother into the room before shutting the door.

"Alright." The older Petrelli looked quizzically around the room. "This is...my bedroom, Pete."

"I love you, Nathan." Peter grinned. His turn to start.

Nathan raised an eyebrow, and there was a pause before he answered, "I love you too...?" There was a slight questioning lilt to the end of the sentence. "Why-"

"Good," Peter said, exactly like last time, and he kissed his brother firmly.

Nathan went rigid with shock, and then his hands were strong and harsh, pushing Peter away, gripping his shoulders painfully.

"Peter. What the fuck?"

Peter stared. The man was serious. Why the hell was he acting like this? Like nothing had ever happened? He'd certainly not denied anything the morning after.

"I thought...we...you..."

Nathan let go of Peter and wiped his mouth with his hand.

(Oh, that hurt.)

"You thought what, Peter?"

"On...Friday night. When you came over - and we you know-"

"I was at a dinner on Friday," Nathan said, slowly. "We all were. Heidi, me, the kids. We went to the Cabots'."

Peter's throat was dry and he wanted to die. Heck, he felt about killed already. Who the fuck?

"Oh, God, Peter," Nathan said. "What did you think we did?"