Title: Prom, And Other Disasters

Pairing: Peter/Nathan

Rating: M

Warnings:incest, sexual abuse of a minor, implied physical abuse, drug use

Disclaimer: Heroes belongs to Tim Kring, NBC et al

Author's note: As you can tell from the pairing and the warnings, this is a Peter/Nathan story. Despite being AU, they are related, and their relationship is incest. There are other dark themes and allusions to sexual abuse. If you are not comfortable reading this, then DON'T. I try not to romanticize their relationship, and I certainly don't endorse incest or abuse of this kind.

Author's note 2: I want to thank my awesome and gracious betas from over on LJ, Miss Miso and Mimesh!

Summary: After Peter published a near disastrous article in the school newspaper about Nathan's illicit affairs on campus, Nathan plots revenge. But with both prom and the anniversary of their father's death coming up, the plot quickly becomes twisted for both of them, emotionally and psychologically. Sequel to "Scandal"

Everyone talked about how good the Student Senate looked on transcripts. No one talked about how damn much of the class was dedicated to debating crepe paper decorations, and the merits thereof.

Streamers, Nathan wrote on his official Senate agenda, pen working with sharp, stabbing precision, Dead!

Emergency meetings arguing over the prom Committee budget, held two fucking weeks in advance of the event itself, weren't exactly an ideal way to spend a Saturday afternoon, in the esteemed opinion of the Monroe High Class President. Admittedly, for him, an ideal Saturday afternoon was one spent in slow, leisurely kissing with his brother Peter, but that was neither here nor there.

Nor, thankfully, was it in his little brother's newspaper. Unlike how tête–à–têtes with prospective Senate appointees were and, if this afternoon's problem didn't resolve itself soon, bankrupting the Student Senate over a dance would be.

To be fair, it was his own damned fault. He should have known better than to let one of Mohinder's friends take point on the decoration committee. Mohinder had been a staunch political ally as the Senior class representative, and the Junior class rep the previous year when Nathan was just the Class Vice President, but much as Nathan loved the guy, he had to admit Mohinder's taste in people was more than a little shitty.

Still, the designs Candice had presented to the Senate had been convincing. How were they supposed to know that plan was an illusion, a daydream just one puff of reality away from collapsing?

The bulk of the money was already spent, going to the DJ flown in from LA -- because, of course, New York was too close, and didn't the Seniors deserve something special? Going to the catering, because the evening was supposed to be an event. And going to renting out the grand ballroom of the Deveaux building, because everyone should feel like royalty at least once.

That cost, at least, had not been the blow out expected. The Deveauxs were good friends of the Petrellis and Simone was a graduating Senior, so it had not been difficult for Nathan to negotiate a a lower price in the interest of Mr. Deveaux securing the perfect night for his darling daughter.

Which still led to the current dilemma. Decorations comma paper.

"It's tacky," Tracy snapped, facing down a sharp glare from Meredith across the table. "You want to festoon a vaulted, neo-baroque ballroom with paper rosettes and honeycombs? Please. It should be fabric and fresh flowers, or nothing at all."

Nathan groaned. It was like she wanted to ruin him.

"We don't have the money for that," he reminded her.

"Perhaps that is an idea to consider," Mohinder started. "No decorations at all. Wasn't the purpose of securing a beautiful location in the first place the fact that it is beautiful? Why waste money dressing it up to look like something it isn't?"

As a collective, the Senate shifted in their seats, torn between the appeal of the idea and the nagging feeling that Mohinder was just trying to duck responsibility for his bad appointment.

"Sounds fine to me," Ando shrugged. "It is not like we have a new design."

Meredith and Heidi, proponents of the crepe paper proposal, grumbled their acquiescence. It was pretty obvious that the old theme would be horrific in paper, and there really wasn't anything else on the table.

It didn't feel like a victory to Nathan, though. It grated, this idea that the best course of action was to do nothing at all. He'd learned well all too recently that he did not have the fredom to rest on his laurels.

"I see your point, but this doesn't sit right with me," Nathan said, ignoring the impatient huffs from around the circular meeting table. "I know that none of you want to meet back here tomorrow, or deal with this in class on Monday. So what I'm proposing now is that we table this, and you all agree that if I can allocate more funds for an immediate solution, I can act unilaterally, without another committee meeting to effect the action."

"You want the power to issue executive orders?" Tracy balked. She raised a hand, gesturing the the heretofore ignored audience to the meeting sitting in the back: Ando's friend Hiro. "Despite what you may have told him, you are a student, Nathan."

"I am. But this is a very narrow application, Tracy. I can't possibly see why you would object."

Nathan held Tracy's cool gaze for a long moment, before Eden broke the silence, "Why don't we call it a day, draft the proposal, Trace, making it as limited as possible, and e-mail it over?"

Tracy shrugged, the set of her shoulders still stiffly defiant, but Nathan could tell she had been persuaded. He let out a long, relieved breath.

"Good. Then I move to adjourn...."

***

As Senate Secretary, it was Heidi's job to type up the minutes of the meetings and summarize them for Peter's newspaper, Audrey in video journalism, and Hana over in new media.

These days, though, Nathan wasn't a big fan of making things too easy on Peter, so he asked Heidi to just forward the summary to him and let him pass it on at home.

"He was just doing his job, you know," she said, rolling her eyes. Any sympathy he could have expected from her was clearly canceled out by her still hard feelings over the break up. "Maybe you shouldn't have fucked Meredith at home if you didn't want him to break the story."

"That's not the point," Nathan snapped, before remembering himself. "Will you leave it to me, please? I want to take care of this myself."

He wanted to make Peter crawl, to beg to be allowed to do his job again. He didn't get to have access anymore.

If Heidi understood that subtext, she ignored it, sighing, "Fine. I'll finish it tonight and send it over."

Nathan drove home, for once relishing the slow New York City traffic that allowed him to contemplate the best way to exact his revenge on Peter. Should he just wait for Peter to realize he was cut off, wait for Peter to get righteously angry when he stormed into Nathan's bedroom, demanding the due right of the school paper's Editor in Chief? Or should he tell Peter himself, set the terms of surrender and watch that beautiful rebelliousness crumble right in front of his face?

Foot in the front door, Nathan barely noticed how quiet the house was. The help was usually off on the weekends, but their presence was often as not replaced by Peter's friends or Company affiliates come to plead their case with Ma. He took the stairs two at a time to the second floor, hip bumping against a table in the hall as he turned a corner, nearly sending a crystal vase and fresh cut hellebore to the floor.

He paused in front of Peter's closed door, back straight, licking his lips in anticipation. He took a deep breath – and tasting the scent of the air, his heart immediately clenched.

The plan was no good. Not today.

Nathan knocked at the door as a courtesy, but eased it open before there was any response. Smoke did not roll out into the hall, Peter knew better than that at least, but the smell of cannabis intensified. Nathan closed the door behind him, striding quickly across his brother's room to open the window, before turning his gaze to the figure upside down on the bed.

Peter had stripped down his boxers, and the state of his trash bin gave a good indication of what he'd been up to all afternoon. So did the sarcastic salute he hailed Nathan with, lifting his half empty bottle of Jack in acknowledgement before wetting his lips with whiskey.

Nathan brought a hand up to his forehead, feeling a headache coming on.

"So, I take it you spent the afternoon getting high and jerking off? I thought you had a newspaper meeting."

Peter tilted his head back to offer Nathan a lazy grin.

"Where do you think I got the pot?"

Motherfucking Isaac, of course. Nathan really, really wished he could get that stoned idiot expelled. Peter always protested that Isaac was an integral part of the paper, the best cartoonist he had. The only one he had.

Some of Nathan's disapproval – well, probably all of it – must have shown on Nathan's face, because Peter's brow furrowed in annoyance.

"Whatever. You're just mad you didn't think of it first."

Nathan had thought of plenty. His plan had just been less solitary and more collaborative in nature. He sat heavily on the bed, toeing his sneakers off before letting himself fall backwards, head at Peter's feet.

"I don't suppose you have anything left for me?" he asked.

Peter pressed the bottle into Nathan's hand; so very much not what he was asking for. Nathan took it anyway, bringing it up to his lips for a long swallow. His other hand groped for Peter's, tugging him to sit. Peter shifted with bad grace, grumbling as he resettled right side up, face centimeters from Nathan's.

His eyes were red, pupils blown out, leaving only the sliver of greenish hazel irises. His hair was stringy with sweat, falling onto his forehead, breath hot and stale against Nathan's lips. Nathan reached out, thumb drifting across the sharp line of Peter's jaw. His skin felt slightly cool to the touch, and Nathan wondered just how long he'd been drinking.

"Jesus, Pete. What happened?"

Peter's eyes were hazily confused.

"Nothing. Had a good afternoon. How was yours?"

"I think Tracy is out to get me."

Peter nodded swiftly in agreement, saying, "Yeah, she hates you."

"What?" Nathan frowned. Why was he the last to know these things?

"Hates your guts. She never forgave you for cheating on Niki last year."

Peter curled an arm around Nathan, letting himself be pulled close, burrowing his head down into the crook of Nathan's neck, seeking warmth. Nathan stroked his hand through Peter's hair, trying to distract himself from becoming aroused by thinking through this problem.

His eyes studied the posters on Peter's ceiling – Fallout Boy, really? – before shaking his head, "That doesn't make sense. Niki never even liked me that much."

"She and DL make a good couple," Peter said, voice muffled. Yeah, such a good couple that they were the front runners for prom King and Queen. Especially now that Nathan and Heidi were out of the question. Not that he was bitter.

Peter, apparently bored with cuddling, started to kiss and lick at Nathan's neck, making him groan. He shifted restlessly on the bed, feeling himself get hard and knowing he'd get no relief. Not with Peter smashed off his ass and wrung out from stroking off all afternoon.

Or maybe he would. Things didn't always have to be mutual...

Satisfied with his work, Peter pulled back long enough to murmur, "C'mere."

He pressed his mouth up to Nathan's, open and wet, tasting like the whiskey Nathan knew he hated. Dad drank whiskey. Used to drink.

"I'm still mad at you, you know," Nathan said between kisses.

"Mmm. Why?"

"Your nasty trick with the paper," Nathan said, nipping hard at Peter's neck. "If the Academy hears about that..."

Peter cracked an amused eye open. "Should have gone with early admission, like me. Besides, they won't hear. If there's one thing the school is afraid of, it's Mom. If there's two, it's Mom and tarnishing the school's reputation. It's just gossip."

"It's gossip about me," Nathan growled. He would have his revenge. Just not today.

Peter rolled onto Nathan, grinding down and smiling at Nathan's reaction. He reached for the bottle, taking a long swallow and then another mouthful. Before Nathan could protest, he leaned down again, bare chest heavy on Nathan's, heat seeping through his annoyingly buttoned shirt. Nathan gripped the back of Peter's head hard as Peter sealed his mouth over Nathan's to share the drink, Peter's tongue gentle to soothe the burn of the alcohol. A trickle escaped from the corner of Nathan's mouth.

Panting, Nathan felt the warm room start to spin around him. He shut his eyes, trying to keep control, only to have them snap open when Peter palmedhim hrough his trousers.

"Stay with me," Peter whispered, gaze intent through the cloudiness.

Nathan wiped his face with two fingers, examining them as he joked, "Dad wouldn't approve. He said not to waste a drop."

He also drank much better whiskey than Jack Daniels, but that wasn't really the point.

If Nathan expect Peter to react to the mention of Dad – the anniversary was coming up, it had to be that – he was disappointed. Wordlessly, without the guile, without the consciously flirtatious look in his eyes he would usually offer, Peter ducked his head down, mouth enveloping Nathan's fingers to suck every hint of the alcohol from his pores.

His eyes fluttered closed, eyelashes dark, thick lines above his cheekbones as he sucked and swirled his tongue, and fuck if that wasn't nearly enough right there.

Breath heaving in his chest, Nathan groaned, "How long?"

Peter pulled back, fingers popping from his mouth, his hand reached out unsteadily, pressing down on Nathan's chest as he tried to keep his balance. Even sitting upright, it seemed, took effort for him in this state.

Nathan kept that hand where it was, caressing Peter's cheek with his wet fingers as Peter asked in puzzlement, "How long for what?"

"How long until Ma gets back?"

"She's been here all day."

Nathan jerked suddenly, pushing Peter off him and scrambling off the bed to stand.

"What? Are you trying to get caught?" Again?

Peter glared up from the awkward position he landed in, legs and arms a naked jumble.

"She and Noah have been in Dad's old study all day, working on Company business. They haven't been up here once. We're not going to get caught, Nathan."

Nathan paced across the room, kicking the clutter of shoes and clothes and half-finished news-copy out of his way.

"What about Claire?" he snapped. "Is she here, too? God, what were you thinking?"

"What about Claire?" Peter mimicked, eyes glittering viciously. "Do you even listen to yourself? It's a Saturday. She's at her mom's. But the high and mighty Nathan Petrelli can't even deign to learn the comings and goings of his fucking family. What a shock."

"She is not our family!"

"Step. Whatever, close enough."

Angry as Nathan was, he really hadn't had any idea if Claire was around until Peter confirmed she wasn't. His mind did quickly click into gear, though, because if Claire wasn't home that meant...

"What about Lyle, Pete? He's just a kid. You want him walking in on us?"

Peter was clearly done being angry. He shrugged, falling back onto the bed, hand groping again for the Jack where it had fallen on the bed, a slow steam of whiskey spilling onto his bed covers. He needed to change them anyway.

"So I teach him to roll a joint, so what? He'll probably learn on his own, anyway."

"If you think the drugs are the problem here... God, Pete, maybe you should get caught, go through therapy again. It clearly didn't make a dent the first time."

Peter lifted his head off the bed, a surprisingly ironic look on his face for someone so high.

"You always say the sweetest things when we fuck."

Nathan gritted his teeth together, acknowledging the hit. It was a bit hard to call Peter out on being fucked up when sex with Nathan sure as hell contributed a lot there.

"Try to be sober before dinner, Pete," Nathan said tersely, turning for the door.

"I love you, too!" Peter sneered.