Linderman's office was one of the more stressful places that Nathan could think of. While the room had been decorated in a way that Nathan was sure had been designed to put its visitors at ease, full of homely touches and the brush of humanity, there was nothing relaxing about this place.
With careful eyes and an uneasy stomach, he watched the man behind the desk and tried to comprehend what he was trying to say; it was always so hard, even for him, to fight his way through the layers of veiled threats to work out what was being said. Manipulating a manipulator was always a challenge.
Right now, it wasn't a challenge he was enjoying.
"What exactly are you saying?" he asked quietly, glancing only briefly to the man that stood by the side of the room, a short distance from Linderman's desk. Hired muscle, there to make sure that Nathan didn't get too violent.
Linderman smiled, a twinkle in his eye as he leaned forward with his arms on his desk. He smiled, with rosy cheeks, and he looked like a Santa that had just stepped off a Christmas card. "Nothing, of course," he said. Nothing. It was always 'nothing' in these arrangements – and 'nothing' was always the one thing he couldn't afford to lose.
"I was merely mentioning that you might wish to keep a tighter eye on your brother once you win this election," Linderman continued, still smiling. Nathan kept his own expression as neutral and understanding as he could, even while his heart raced and he wanted to shake Linderman and tell him to leave Peter out of this. "It would be such a shame if something were to happen to him, wouldn't you agree?"
Nathan nodded, lips in a tight line and his mouth felt dry: Peter was a nurse. He wasn't supposed to be mixed up in this mess of a life – Peter was supposed to be the one safe thing here.
He forced himself to smile, that bright politician's smile that he'd learned so long ago from his father, and glanced down to his knees for only a moment. When he looked up again, Linderman was still smiling benignly. "Of course I agree, Mr. Linderman. What would make you think that my brother's in danger?"
Linderman's smile seemed to widen, and a dimple appeared in his cheek. "I'm sure he isn't, as long as you continue to follow our wishes. So far, we have no reason to be disappointed with your performance: I've been very impressed."
"I'm glad to hear that," Nathan said, as his heart started to sink.
Around him, he could feel Linderman's invisible grip tightening: if he carried on like this, he knew he'd be a puppet like his father in just a matter of months.
"Pete?" Nathan said immediately, as he used his key to enter the apartment. The lights were off, but seeing as it was the middle of the day that didn't mean anything: Peter was on another of his 'save the world' routines, this time determinedly not wasting energy.
Without waiting for a response, Nathan moved swiftly through to the bedroom. On the floor, he had to step over abandoned piles of clothes; jeans that Peter had simply stepped out of at the end of the day before falling into bed – he thought he recognised one of the shirts left lying on the floor as one of his from a couple of nights ago.
Rolling his eyes and wondering if his own house would look as bad if it weren't for the maid, he headed straight for the closet. Opening it and ignoring the neat rows of clothes on their hangers, he dipped down to grab a large black bag from the bottom.
As he flung it onto the bed and immediately started to pick out clothes for Peter, folding them and placing them into the bag, he heard the bedroom door open as Peter came through, still holding a glass in his hand as he'd apparently been in the kitchen when Nathan first entered. Nathan paused what he was doing to look up at Peter, just to check if he was all right: no bruises, no cuts, no scared look on his face. Linderman's men hadn't been near him, then.
Yet.
"Nathan?" Peter asked slowly, walking into the room. He placed his drink down on the bedside cabinet, before he wandered over to stand by Nathan's side. As he moved, Nathan forced his attention back to packing, back to shoving everything imaginable that he could get his hands on into this one bag.
Peter reached out to place a hand on his upper arm, rubbing at his skin through the blue material of his shirt. Just his thumb moved, in soft strokes that got Nathan to stop packing again. He closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath, trying to stay calm.
"Are we going somewhere?" Peter asked, as his other hand leafed through the contents of the bag. All the while, he kept his hand on Nathan's arm, which kept him rooted to the spot next to him. "'cause, generally speaking, it's nice if you ask first."
He smiled to himself, before detaching from Nathan to wander over to the chest of drawers behind them, wordlessly helping him pack without even knowing why.
Feeling almost guilty, Nathan grabbed the half-read books that were sitting by Peter's bed and placed them inside too. "I'll explain later," he said, with absolutely no intention of doing so. Peter didn't have to know.
Nathan wished that he didn't have to know either – he was giving up on this. The politics just weren't worth it if there was even the slightest chance of Peter getting hurt.
And yet, it wasn't easy to just quit once you were under Linderman's thumb, once he'd invested millions into your campaign. Nathan couldn't back down, not without putting everyone in his family in danger.
They'd go after Peter first, he knew that. If he went on TV tomorrow and announced that he was quitting the campaign, Peter would have two of Linderman's thugs at his door within seconds. That was why just quitting wasn't enough; he had to go much further than that.
"Alright," Peter said quietly, moving past him to dump a set of socks and underpants into the bag too. "I trust you."
The words, easily said as they were, brought that familiar buzz to his body, the sense of power and belonging all at once. He reached out to place a hand on Peter's hip, turning him around so that they could face each other, then coaxing him into taking a step forward.
Once the silent instructions were carried out, they were left standing so close to each other that Peter's breath seemed to burn his skin as it ghosted over him. Peter always seemed at his most beautiful up close, where you could see the delicate angles of his body and the gentleness on his face. Whenever Nathan watched him sleeping, he couldn't honestly believe that they were actually related. It didn't seem possible.
One hand raised from Peter's hip to brush over his cheekbone instead, tucking that ridiculous bang of hair behind Peter's ear. "You know I'll take care of you, Peter," Nathan whispered, and if he didn't know better then he'd say his hand was shaking. "Always – you know I'd never let anyone hurt you."
Peter's face was always so expressive; it was easy to read the confusion and concern, just from the frown that appeared. He seemed to have a thousand different frowns, and Nathan had memorised them all. He kissed the crease between Peter's eyebrows, trying to soothe that frown away somehow.
It didn't work, at all, and Peter just brushed his hand over Nathan's arm again. Nathan felt the hairs on the back of his arm stand up, eager for more of that gentle touch, but he tried to ignore it.
"Nate, you wanna tell me what's going on?" Peter asked quietly. "Whatever it is, I promise I can-"
Before Peter could continue and make promises he couldn't hope to keep, Nathan swooped in to silence him. Bringing their lips together, the kiss fumbled at first before Peter's hand found its way into his hair, allowing him to take charge.
Nathan allowed it, losing himself in the feel of Peter's body against his. When they shuffled forward to the bed and tumbled onto it, only narrowly avoiding the bag that still sat there, he couldn't think of all the precious time they were wasting.
'Wasting' was certainly the wrong word to use, he'd decided by the time Peter had managed to undo the first button of his shirt.
He stared up at the screen, at the confusing lists of destinations and times and gates. He hated airports like this, and hadn't had to navigate one alone for a while yet. It made him wish that he could just take to the skies himself, but he'd already told himself that they were going to put that behind them.
With no powers, no politics, and no Linderman, this trip was going to be amazing. It would be.
Discovering the correct gate to go to, he looked around the airport to try and locate Peter again. At times, he felt like he ought to put his brother on a leash just to try and keep track of him. It seemed impossible otherwise.
The airport's crowd pulsed around him, thick and menacing, and the sick twist of fear started to creep onto him when he couldn't see Peter anywhere. God, of all the times to walk off…
He breathed in through his nose, searching and repeatedly reminding himself that Peter was an adult, even if he didn't act like it most of the time. He didn't have to always know where he was and what he was doing – but at times like this, it would help.
Running a hand through his hair, he was starting to wonder if he ought to go to airport security when he felt an elbow nudge his back.
"Nathan? Got us some coffee. Figured you looked tired, could probably use it," Peter said, standing behind him with two takeaway cups in his hands. Nathan turned and took one from him. The heat warmed his hands and he nodded, a minute movement, in relief once he surveyed Peter to make sure he was all right.
Peter took a sip from his drink, wincing from the heat, before glancing up at the screen too. "Gate Nine? Has our flight been called yet?"
Nathan shook his head. "No. Come on, we'll find somewhere to sit while we wait. And Peter?" He paused, not entirely sure how this request would be taken. Peter nodded, nervous frown appearing. "Don't wander off again."
No explanation was given, but apparently there wasn't one needed either. Peter murmured in agreement, and stuck close to him as they walked to try and find a place to sit.
He let Peter have the window seat on the plane, to allow him to stare out in awe. He couldn't understand how Peter could still be impressed by something as simple as flight: they'd both been on more planes than they could count over the years.
This plane was different, though – this plane was a one-way journey to Europe. To Italy, to Rome, but he thought that they'd keep moving around until he was sure that Linderman had stopped looking for them.
His legs were cramped, and this was the first time that he could remember that he wasn't flying in business class. On the opposite side of the aisle, there was a couple and their child. The boy was barely a toddler, with a bright red face that seemed to threaten all the passengers with the chance of a loud tantrum and snotty tears.
The sight of it made him miss Simon and Monty already. It was only a dull ache at the moment, but he knew it would grow bigger, and would gnaw at him until he longed to return to New York.
That couldn't happen, he reminded himself as he looked over to Peter. He needed to do this; he needed to be both Peter's big brother and his lover, and both of those occupations involved doing anything to protect him.
As the plane started to sluggishly position itself on the runway, Nathan reached out to Peter's hand, grasping it tightly. When Peter squeezed his fingers with a reassuring smile, Nathan didn't even want to let go.