Nathan Petrelli has always been an Important Person. As an Important Person, he's had a lot of long days. Days like this one, where there were entirely too many things stuffed into his well-coifed head, and he couldn't even hear the individual melody of each one anymore. They were drowned out by each other, a constant buzz filling his head to the brim with the sheer amount of things to think about. Important Things, to be sure, but some nights, like tonight, he just wanted to collapse into his own bed and let the world wait until tomorrow.

But he knew he couldn't. Important People couldn't just put their Important Things on the back burner, no matter how much more important rest seemed.

Thinking about new laws and working out the details of political plans he may or may not secretly hold the strings to, he didn't even notice his door was set slightly ajar. The telltale dim lighting spilling a milky line across the hardwood barely even registered, as he tiredly pushed the solid wooden door inwards.

Nathan was a very prepared person, by nature. It comes with being a control….enthusiast...and that trait alone has singlehandedly rescued his career and made sure he stayed on top, even after unexpected turns of events. Senators need to be prepared, and Nathan was a great senator, if not a good one. This was a personality trait he was very proud of, one he relied on above all else, made sure to keep polished on his mental mantle.

All the same, he was not prepared for what he saw next.

His jaw fell slack, and his jumbled thoughts of key events happening around the world and the benefits of deposing various regimes began to ring silence, as all the blood in his head rushed downwards towards his…ahem, other head.

Brain deprived of much-needed oxygen, it took him much too long to process the mess of rumpled sheets, inky-soft hair, and sleeping naked boy than it should have. His eyes travelled across smooth touchable skin stretched over erotic lines of lithe muscle. The sheet - his sheet - fell diagonally across the perfect curve of ass on a precious body, and trapped his eyes with thoughts of what was underneath. He choked down fish-gulps of air in an effort to jumpstart semi-coherency. All he heard was static.

Almost blindly, he stepped a slow foot into the room. One step, two steps, three – the deliciously tempting form on his bed stirred slightly. He froze. Dropped his coat on the plush carpeted floor.

Panicked. Beat a hasty retreat.

He was halfway down the hall before he regained enough of his mental faculties to kick himself in the teeth. Metaphorically, of course. Every politician needs great teeth.

Wait…how did Peter even get in there?

He was fairly certain he'd locked his bedroom door this morning. But that was a stupid question, really, and not the one that needed answering.

Oh, wait – Peter's an all-powerful superman.

Then, of course, the one that did –

Why is my baby brother taking a naked nap in my bed?...

And why am I not taking advantage of it?

The last part made him swallow his breath so hard he could feel - very distinctively - his own Adam's apple travel the length of his esophagus. God, he was being so unlike himself. He felt more like a jittery, panicked bunny rabbit than Nathan Petrelli – Important Person extraordinaire.

It wasn't as if this was entirely out of left field - he'd wondered to himself how many more lingering touches and longing stares he could get away with, time after time again. Peter wasn't that dim, and he'd known his brother would have to catch on at some point...he just hadn't expected the response to be so direct, accepting, and...provocative.

Yes, but isn't this what you want?

Gut instinct and second nature had him throwing his politician's mask back on. He straightened his suit and turned on his heel.

Bolstered with confidence he didn't really feel, he strutted back up the hall and threw the door open with a banging flourish. He stood there, with arm still outstretched, as the delicious figure in his bed stirred lazily awake.

Peter rolled back over his own rear as he wiped the sleep out of his eyes and was treated to the sizzling hot view of Nathan in his rumpled work clothes standing darkly in the doorway with want burning in his eyes.

"Hey, buddy…" he greeted, voice gravelly from fatigue and desire. He let himself thoroughly eye-fuck his brother before meeting the good senator's eyes with a seductive smirk.

"Here t'join me…?"

Nathan didn't say a word. Peter watched passively as his blood prowled towards him, only to stop at the last minute and stand impassively at the side of the bed. The older Petrelli leaned stonily forwards, and watched his baby brother automatically begin to rise upwards to seek him. Again, he delayed contact and this time stalked around to the other side. He'd never admit to ever having second thoughts, but if he were to ever, it would be now.

It's wrong, it's wrong, it's wrong...he's your baby brother for God's sake.

Peter watched him with dark, unreadable eyes as the older man simply stood there like a statue, watching over him. He rolled onto his back from his position propped up on his elbows, the sheet slipping dangerously low, and rested his turned head on his right hand, letting his left fall naturally over his chest. He didn't know exactly what was happening, but he refused to break the electric line of eye contact buzzing between them. His heart was pounding, and he did his best not to let that show in the invitation in his eyes.

Three tense seconds ticked by, and when Peter saw Nathan begin to lean back, he knew he had to do something to break his brother's careful restraint. To overpower all the voices in his head telling him not to act on what Peter had only recently begun suspecting were long-suppressed urges. He swallowed hard, licked his lips, and slowly began moving the hand resting on his chest downwards, in what he hoped was a seductive motion.

Nathan paused. His heartbeat sounded deafening in his own ears, and he watched as that hand fell lower…and lower…and lower…

Baby Petrelli knew the exact moment that Nate's tense hold on himself broke. A muscle jumped up and down in a strong square jaw, and one moment the politician was standing there, like a stone gargoyle, the next there was a comforting weight pressing him into the mattress, and a familiar fraternal scent mixed with subtle cologne filling his nose. Hot lips met his in a burning, branding mess of mouth, and teeth, and tongue. Hands were wandering all over, oh, those hands…and the sheet was falling away, and he was mindlessly undoing the trail of buttons on that pressed white shirt, flinging it whoever-the-fuck-cares.

The full, heavy length of Nathan's desire suddenly lay cradled in his right hand, and he started pumping without a thought, hearing moans and hushed curses spill out of the wet mouth next to his ear, feeling scalding breaths pant out against his skin. And he was searching for friction against his brother's partially undone dress pants, and the room was full of lustful noises clashing and intertwining together, and he had wanted this for so long…

Somehow, one of Nathan's digits was inside him, slick-coated with somebody's spit, and it felt good, it felt so damn good. And he'd only ever had one other person down there, but he'd never been prepared so thoroughly, so painstakingly carefully, before – Nathan was treating him as if he were something precious, and God, he was about to come way too early from just one finger.

Another joined in and he was lost, moaning like some wanton whore, hand wrapped around the base of his own dick, because he wanted this to last, and last, and last. He wanted his big brother's touch to brand itself into his soul so he could have it – this wonderfulness – forever, carry it with him for as long as he walked this earth, and fuck, he could feel the hot throbbing mass of him pressing in, and….

Oh!

He was so full it almost forced tears into his eyes, and he realized with a shock that finally, his brother was where he belonged. Realized that they were connected – really, honestly, physically. And the feeling was so visceral in that moment that he let two twin tears streak parallel lines across his face.

But he was smiling, beaming so goddamn brilliantly that Nathan couldn't help but move inside of him. And God, Pete was so fucking warm, and tight, and soft, and he couldn't believe that he'd lived until now without this. This….this was the kind of thing people talked about when they spoke about finding their faith.

It felt like rebirth and revelation after revelation all at once, and he was pretty sure God wouldn't approve of this, but he thanks Him anyway – the first semblance-of-a-prayer he'd made of his own free will since…he doesn't even remember when. But the sight of Peter's luminescent skin glowing in his bed – pale skin dazzled in hot sweat and precious body arch-twisting in pleasure – like an angel beneath him, has him calling out to the heavens. And he knows it's not right, this thing that feels suspiciously like baby-I-love-you-love, roiling just under the surface of his skin, but he blindly follows it anyways.

And his eyes are forced open by the divine picture in front of him, the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, but he could swear he's been blinded. He doesn't see his brother writhing in his sheets as much as feel it – experience every nuance of his face and the smooth ripple of muscle under skin. It's blurred the lines between vision and feeling, and he doesn't think it's normal, but he loves it all the same.

Pants of shared breath push moist warmth onto skin, and broken moans sound wrecked in the silence of the room. He's thrusting uncontrollably as his name is whispered a thousand times in his ear in a chant that has him seeking deeper and just searching for more.

It blindsides him, and suddenly Peter's screaming epithets mixed with slews of curses and his name arcing above all, and suddenly everything's getting impossibly tighter and more, and suddenly he's shattering into a million pieces – scattered everywhere, covering the floor and imbedded in the walls of his consciousness.

He wraps his arms around his brother and pulls him close and tight to his body, stealing warmth to hide the empty cold in his soul. Something wretched is clawing at the pit of his stomach, and he swallows the sick bile in his throat.

Somehow, it all seems to disappear, though when Peter hums and snuggles just a little bit closer into his embrace.

Skin pressed flush to skin, Nathan Petrelli sleeps. Tomorrow he'll go back to being an Important Person.

But tonight…tonight he's just his brother's lover.