s.t.b. says: my first Heroes fanfiction ever. also can be found at my Livejournal! ummm...it's vague and depressing and incestuous, but i really like the end result. reviews are most HEARTILY appreciated.

title : Lasagna.
author : conclusivelead (shake.the.bones).
rating : R for language, incest, vague sexual situations.
warnings/spoilers : incest, vagueness, inevitability; NO SPOILERS. could be considered AU or preseries.
pairing : Nathan/Peter.
word count : 1,993.
disclaimer : I do not own Heroes or anything related to, or released beneath, the trademark.
summary : Nathan Petrelli dealt well under pressure. Unfortunately, pressure and incestuous lust are two entirely different things. "I may not be the best cook, but I make fucking amazing lasagna."

LASAGNA
August 2nd - 3rd, 2008.
LAST EDITED: September 6th, 2008.

Nathan Petrelli dealt well under pressure. He was confident in his dependability, and this dependability was what had helped get him the position of assistant district attorney, so there seemed very little reason to doubt. His position and his family required that Nathan be a good man to have under pressure, and thus he was.

Unfortunately, pressure and incestuous lust are two entirely different things.

It wasn't that his case load had been particularly heavy that week; all things considered, he'd had practically nothing to do except fill out paperwork and ensure that his secretary, Mary, secured for him the fat-free Italian dressing he liked every day at lunch. The hours he dwindled away at the office seemed like nothing, like child's play.

To be completely honest, he probably could have just stayed home all week and gotten the work done at his leisure. But no, no – home was to be avoided at all costs. Home was where Nathan's problem began.

Nathan sighed loudly and leaned back in his leather swivel chair, hand moving almost automatically up toward his face to pinch at the bridge of his nose. He didn't even want to think about the last couple of days and all that had taken place. One thing he knew for sure – for the feelings that surged through him every time he stepped through the front door, for the heat that sweltered inside him every time he saw even a brief glimpse of Peter inside his home…he would burn in hell.

Heidi and the children were currently vacationing in Europe; Nathan knew that they'd needed a break from the campaign and the stress that resulted, and so he'd bought a few plane tickets, rented a villa in the south of Spain, helped them pack their bags, and said goodbye for the summer. They'd been more than pleased with their trip thus far, and Nathan had been grateful to get away himself.

A week into the summer and the ADA had been stir-crazy…bored…and having a humiliatingly difficult time cooking for himself. Along with his children and wife, he'd also given the cook and servants leave for a month or so. It had seemed like a brilliant idea at the time – why just escape a few people when you can get rid of everyone in one fell swoop? But after three burnt TV dinners, Nathan had seriously begun to reconsider.

Then his "savior" had come in the form of Peter, who, in one of his biweekly visits, had caught Nathan scraping blackened lasagna into the trash can off a plate of fine china.

One look in the empty refrigerator and suddenly Peter was setting up camp in one of the spare bedrooms on the first floor.

"There's no need for you to be here alone for so long, Nate," Peter had said, stacking clothes in the wardrobe and creating a pile of shoes in the corner. "There's just no point. Besides, I may not be the best cook, but I make fucking amazing lasagna."

Like a good Petrelli, Nathan immediately put up a fight, but Peter only rolled his eyes and continued to turn down the spare bed. The older man consistently attempted to persuade his brother that he'd be fine alone, but after little response and an hour of meaningless chatter, he simply gave up and told himself he'd have to get readjusted to coexisting with his brother in such close proximity.

But Nathan had never thought that he would adjust so fucking quickly.

Every morning, Peter would wake up just in time to make him a decent breakfast and the two would sit at the kitchen bar while Nathan scarfed down eggs and toast and Peter silently sipped orange juice, dark eyes never leaving his older brother's face. It had been like this since Day One, and it was almost…frustrating how quickly Nathan had grown used to this small routine. It wasn't even just a simple adjustment, the dark haired man had come to expect Peter to prepare him his meals and spend each evening with him and then hug him before calling it a night.

And expectation, at some point or another, had quickly turned to appreciation, and then…

Nathan had always loved his brother. Despite the rather vast age difference between the two, Nathan had always loved his kid brother, always looked forward to seeing him on rare holidays and when he was home from school. They'd grown up almost completely separately, but Nathan recalled being closer to Peter than any other human being for as long as he could remember. And he was almost distinctively sure when exactly brotherly affection had become something else.

He pinned it to Peter's twenty-first birthday party. Nathan had flown into New York after several months overseas to surprise his younger brother on his big day. Peter had been staying in his own apartment, paid for by his parents, who were trying to get him accustomed to living on his own. The second Peter opened the door to see his big brother for the first time in three years – yes that was the exact moment. Sharp cheekbones, full lips upturned, ridiculously long bangs falling into dark eyes…

But for years it had been easy to hide, to deny what he so wrongly felt, especially considering that until Peter was twenty-six years old they had only seen each other at rare, short intervals.

Then things had changed. Peter decided to become a nurse and settled permanently in the city, and it had become natural to see each other almost all the time. If Nathan wasn't campaigning, which he admittedly usually was, he was spending time with Peter, or Peter and his mother, or Peter and Heidi, or Peter and Heidi and the kids…

And it had grown harder to renounce those feelings when Peter starting looking at him like he did.

No matter who they were with, no matter where they were, no matter what they were doing – some part of Nathan's subconscious always felt a pair of dark, familiar eyes settled on his person, studying, gauging, admiring...

…appreciation had turned, somewhere along the line, into indefinable emotion, emotion that, in a normal person, might have been a combination of lust, adoration, and respect.

His watch alarm beeped loudly, yanking Nathan from his thoughts. Sighing, he used his thumb and forefinger to pinch at both sides of the watch, effectively cutting off the annoying sound. He was about to lean over and page Mary when there was an abrupt knock at his office door. Before he could grant his visitor permission to enter, the door swung open, anyway, and in waltzed Peter.

Well, not so much waltzed as rushed.

Nathan tried desperately not to think about the flush that was spread across his younger brother's face or the almost inappropriate way he was panting and clutching at his chest.

"To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" he queried dryly, gathering up a stack of papers and straightening it with trembling fingers in an attempt to keep his gaze from the pink in Peter's cheeks.

Peter took a few more moments to recover from his obvious lack of air, but then he was dumping the brown paper bag on Nathan's desk and collapsing in a chair. "You...forgot your lunch."

The elder arched a dark brow and shuffled around for more things to organize. "I would have just picked up something, Pete. There was no reason for you to come here." The logical part of Nathan's brain was responsible for this, the part that he liked to concentrate on when Peter and the sensory overload he caused became just too much to handle.

Even as Nathan moved about the desk, settling papers in their proper place and gathering pens together, he felt that same intense gaze on his face, studying, calculating – taking in anything and everything that Nathan did. It was both disconcerting and highly, highly intoxicating.

"What, and let my hard work go to waste?" Peter dismissed this idea with a casual roll of his eyes and the release of a deep breath. "Yeah, right. You hardly get a solid meal in when I'm not around, so you will sit there and you will eat that lasagna."

Nathan chuckled and finally allowed his busy hands to still. He looked up from his desk to see Peter leaning back casually in the nearest armchair, legs crossed at the ankles and cheek resting against his fist. Without another word, he opened the bag and withdrew the Tupperware container of lasagna along with a plastic fork and knife. Peter said nothing, only grinned and continued to watch him as he silently devoured the food.

Eating had never been so difficult. Scoop/stab, lift to lips, chew, chew, chew, swallow. Every movement was carefully thought out and then even more carefully acted out. He put his entire concentration into eating that lasagna. He was determined not to notice Peter's eyes on his hands, his eyes, and his mouth.

But he found himself more and more tempted to look up, to meet Peter's gaze with his own, to see what lay there in his brother's eyes.

He finished the meal quickly, clicking the lid back onto the Tupperware and then crumpling up the remaining trash into the bag. Still avoiding Peter's eyes, he stood and crossed the short distance to the trash can. Tension filled his shoulders as he felt his younger brother's gaze on his frame. An inexplicable heat filled his chest, warming his skin and filling him with the oddest mixture of foreboding and exhilaration. No matter what he did, no matter where they were, his eyes were always on him. That dark gaze filled him to the brim, pushed him to a place where all his wants and needs and desires were replaced by one thought – Peter.

And he knew…he knew that there was only one reason Peter would be looking at him like that, watching him all the time. Nathan briefly wondered whether the other man thought he was being discreet. He realized he'd been standing at the trash can for several seconds longer than was necessary, and slid his hands into his pockets, not yet willing to turn back around. If he turned – if he turned and met Peter's stare, he knew that all the years he'd spent building up walls around his inappropriate lust would be for nothing. That lust would come spilling out, and Nathan knew, without hesitation, that he would let it.

So he stood stock-still, readjusting his walls and preparing himself to -

"Nathan."

Nathan Petrelli was a good man to have under pressure, but this kind of pressure – this uninhibited thing that shouted at him to let go, to release, to attack….

Nathan knew that he would never forgive himself if he gave in; he was the oldest, the strongest, the one with the determination and ability and ambition of their father, and he would not damn Peter with reciprocation.

"Nathan."

A warm hand at his shoulder, and he was lost.

Hands met shoulders, lips met lips, and everything that Nathan had dreaded would happen was happening. And suddenly that dread was gone and he felt free, he felt hot, he felt torn. He was vaguely aware of his calves hitting the seat of the armchair, and then he was collapsing into the leather with Peter on top of him…Jesus Christ, Peter was on top of him, and long legs were folded up on either side of Nathan's thighs. Scorching heat flushed the places where Peter's skin met his; fingertips against his sides, tongue against his lips, hips pressing down into his, grinding and seeking a release that Nathan desperately ached for, longed to reach…

Then it was ending – a long awaited explosion inside and out and….

And as they both leaned forward, Nathan tasted lasagna on his brother's lips and he knew that he would never again be whole.

END.