Title: A Sea on this Shore
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Peter/Nathan
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3,518
Summary/Description: Five times Peter shouldn't have kissed Nathan. (And one time he should have. Goodbye.)
Warning/Spoilers: Incestuous themes. Spoilers for the season 3 finale.
A/N: 31 days, May 8th: I'm afraid to forget you. Wrote this after watching the end of season 3, which, just by the way, I pretty much despised. Most of it takes place pre-series, so no spoilers, except for the aforementioned episode.
Disclaimer: Heroes is so not mine.
1.
He's been waiting for this day since a minute after Nathan left for college last year.
His big brother had hugged him harder than he'd ever hugged him before, and Peter had had to remind himself that he was eight years old, not a little kid anymore, and he couldn't cry, not even a little. When a thin coat of moisture spread over his eyes, betraying him, he squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in his brother's neck, breathing in harshly.
The hug ended far too quickly for his liking, with Nathan ruffling his hair and pressing a hard kiss to his temple. Peter turned away, dashing water out of his eyes as he listened to Nathan tell him that it wouldn't be long, he would be home before he knew it. That was a lie, but Peter was smart enough to know that his brother was just trying to make him feel better.
"Take care of Ma when Dad's not around, be a good kid, and don't miss me too much," were Nathan's final instructions before he gave a quick smile, and stepped into the car that would bear him to the airport, away from Peter. Peter watched the trail of exhaust rise into the atmosphere as the vehicle roared away, and ran past his parents back into the house, swiping at his eyes.
He has followed his brother's instructions to the letter, with the exception of the last one, of course. That is impossible. Peter was missing Nathan even before he left.
He is missing him even now, several months' later, as he crouches behind a couch in the sitting area, peeking over the top, watching a sun fresh, laughing Nathan and a stranger greet his parents. Their voices echo in the spacious, vaulted room, with all the decorations and awards, all the fancy furniture that they never use. Peter's not supposed to be in here, certainly not while he's so sweaty and dusty from playing outside, but the sound of his brother's voice had brought him running. Peter draws a breath and holds it.
His brother looks even taller and prouder, his teeth a swash of white in his tanned face. His hair is different; it sort of sticks up at an angle, and he's wearing a suit that looks like their father's, but his eyes and smile bear the same mark, leave the same feeling of contentedness. Peter grins, and he can't hold himself back anymore.
"Nathan!" he cries, laughing as he vaults over the couch and launches himself into his brother's surprised embrace. He locks his arms around Nathan's neck, and his legs go around his waist. Nathan's neck provides a warm cove for his face, and he smells different, like something expensive and woodsy and sweet. Peter likes it. He laughs again, and presses a loud kiss to Nathan's stubbly cheek.
"You're back!"
Nathan's hands are on his waist, but he's not hugging him back. Peter doesn't notice just yet; the bright green eyes of Nathan's strange friend catch his own. He is old, like their father, with bushy grey hair and leathery skin. The man looks amused, hands deep in his pockets in a careless pose, and Peter's first instinct is to dislike him. The man nudges Nathan quietly in the side with an elbow, and the impression sticks.
Behind him, their father sighs.
"Come on, Peter. Get down. Let go of your brother." His voice is as calm as always, but has that slight edge of steel that characterises Arthur Petrelli. Peter pouts, craning his neck to look at his parents. His ma has a slightly amused, slightly pained expression on her face, and his dad looks stern and expectant. His pout deepens, and he turns it on Nathan, on whom it hardly ever fails to work.
Nathan sighs as well, and pats him on the back. Peter's face is falling already.
"Hey Pete." Peter's fingers and legs are prised away easily, and before he can grab hold again he finds his feet firmly on the ground. Nathan smiles, but it is tight. He ruffles Peter's hair, like he did before he left. "Good to see you. Give me a minute, okay? Go play some more."
Peter is also smart enough to recognise a dismissal. He doesn't know why he's being sent away, and he wonders. What did he do wrong?
He understands a little when he sees Nathan wipe a little spit left over from Peter's kiss on his cheek. The stranger smirks, and Peter's heart falls a bit more.
Peter gets another pat on the back, and his mother leads him away. Later, Nathan greets him properly, out in the garden, with a tight hug and a kiss.
It's not the same.
2.
"Come on, Peter."
Kylie's voice is breathy and warm in his ear, her breath sweet-smelling. Peter shivers, and holds her hand tighter as he leads her down the dark upstairs hallway of his house. He smiles, and puts a finger to his lips; they need to be quieter. Kylie's response is to lean closer and nip his ear.
"We need to go soon; your parents might come back."
He gives her hand a squeeze, coming to a stop at a door.
"This'll only take a minute, Kylie," he promises in a whisper, touching a lock of her red hair, just like he does frequently during Chemistry, when their heads are bent over the same beaker and their smiles are hidden away. "We won't be late, and we won't get caught."
She gives a slightly exaggerated sigh, but nods, and follows as he twists the knob, and slips into the room. He doesn't let go of her hand.
Nathan is asleep. Peter heard from the housekeeper that he returned a few hours ago, while he and Kylie were out back. He is sprawled out on his bed, looking utterly exhausted, one hand on his bare chest and the other grasping a pillow. Peter's breathing evens out, and unconsciously, he smiles at the figure of his big brother. He hasn't seen him in almost six months.
"So this is the infamous Nathan. He's cute," Kylie says in an undertone over Peter's shoulder. She pokes him in the cheek, grinning. "Maybe even cuter than you."
Peter returns the smile absently, moving closer. Kylie's hand slips from his grasp as he stands next to the bed. His brother is handsome, with the angular lines of his face, noble chin, and straight hair that just seems to know exactly what to do to flatter the head that it crowns. Unlike Peter's, which flops any which way it wants to. Nathan has always been better at everything, even at just being.
Peter can't summon up the urge to be bitter at the moment though, because now, his brother is home and he has missed him, a lot. Living with his parents isn't easy, even more so when Nathan isn't around.
He runs a gentle hand through the top of Nathan's head, fingering the strands of soft hair. His thumb touches the skin of his forehead. He can hear Kylie's soft footsteps approaching as he folds at the waist, and presses a kiss to Nathan's temple, just as he always does. The skin has a fine sheen of sweat; it tastes salty.
"Welcome home, Nathan."
He lingers for a moment.
When he stands straight again, he finds Kylie looking at him strangely. He smiles a little, tilting his head.
"What is it?" He reaches out for her hand again. She takes it, but not immediately. A finely arched brow is cocked, and she gives an uncertain smile that is a half smirk.
"You still kiss your brother?"
It's Peter's turn to raise a brow slightly. The manner in which she says it connotes things that he knows exists, but that he can't, and doesn't acknowledge.
"Yeah...?" He tries to convey nonchalance. On the inside, he is frowning.
"Like that?" She gestures to Nathan's forehead, sounding sceptical. "I mean, it's just..." She waves a hand, as if trying to explain soundlessly, but nothing comes out. In the end, she simply shrugs. "It's just kind of weird."
Peter blinks at her, swallows seamlessly. Her auburn hair gleams, even in the low light of the room.
"Come on," he says, gripping her hand. "Let's go."
3.
Peter practically has to fight his way to Nathan's side. The crowd of family, friends, guests, well-wishers, and members of the press throngs around his brother, who looks more handsome, more confident, more content than ever. Peter is happy too, happy for Nathan and Heidi, that they've found this together. It's what he whispers in his brother's ear when he's finally at his side, and the flow of human bodies has ebbed away a bit.
Nathan smiles, putting a hand on the small of Peter's back in a casual hug. Peter returns it.
"Thanks, Pete. It means a lot." There's a breeze flowing through the air outside the chapel, shaking the leaves off the trees, rustling Nathan's perfect hair.
"Hey, no problem," Peter replies. He stands still as Nathan removes his hand, allows his brother to adjust his tie. The wedding is going to start soon, and with Nathan, appearances always matter. His cheek twitches when his brother flicks a lock of his hair out of his eyes.
"Sure there's not a smudge of dirt on my cheek you need to wipe off with your thumb, big brother?" he asks, amused. He tunnels his hands in his pockets, and Nathan rolls his eyes.
"Don't start with me, Peter. Gotta look smart."
"Yeah, yeah." He doesn't mind it as much as he makes out, and remains still under his brother scrutiny and ministrations. They haven't spent much time together lately. This feels nice.
Nathan steps back, grasping Peter by the shoulders as he gives him one last look from head to toe. Their eyes meet, and they grin, simultaneously. Nathan pulls him forward.
"C'mon. Give your big brother a hug."
Peter obliges, wrapping an arm around Nathan's broad shoulders, and another along his trim waist. He rests his mouth on the shoulder of his jacket, turning his face inwards to Nathan's neck, like he always does, breathing him in. Nathan gives good hugs; his arms lock tightly around Peter, a comfort and a boon, and even if he was aware of people watching them, he wouldn't care.
Nathan kisses his forehead; it makes Peter smile. Seamlessly, without even thinking, he turns his head to return the brotherly gesture. His lips land on the corner of Nathan's mouth, which is dry, and warm. They pull back, and smile, slapping each other's backs. On impulse, Peter leans in again, and kisses Nathan quickly, fully on the lips, just a peck. His brother's hand is warm on his neck when he pulls back once again.
"Save some for the bride, huh?"
They swivel their heads. A pretty young photographer takes the time to flash her dimples at them before ducking behind her camera, and snapping a picture.
It's a joke, of course; the gesture had been nothing more than brotherly. It's not the first time they've been seen being affectionate. Nonetheless, Peter feels his stomach harden as Nathan's lips tighten. He waits for it, for the silent look of mild disapproval, for the quiet words of reproof.
They don't come.
"How about I save some for you?" Nathan quips with a grin, eyes sparkling. He gets the laugh he wants, from the photographer and everyone within earshot. He throws an arm around Peter's shoulder; a camera goes off again. Somehow, Peter feels hollow.
Nathan makes another witty comment; everyone laughs. Peter sighs quietly, trying to smile, and remembers to be grateful.
4.
"You're such a lightweight, Nathan. Sure you don't wanna stop now?"
A snort.
"Look who's talking."
Nathan is beautiful tonight, even more so than usual. For all that Peter teases him, he know that his brother is more lucid than he is, even though the older Petrelli has downed more shots than the younger at this point. They've put a considerable dent in Nathan's store of alcohol tonight. Heidi will probably find them on the couch come morning.
Peter can't stop looking at his brother, and he knows that he's being watched as well. The light in the dining room is a cool orange, setting Nathan's skin aflame, making his patrician features glow. Peter's vision spins. The vodka isn't entirely to blame.
"What are you talking about; I can still take a few more."
He doesn't remember what they're celebrating anymore; can't even think why he opted to stay behind after everyone had left, and Heidi and the kids were in bed. He doesn't remember, and he doesn't care. He can't think of anything that could be more significant than the moisture on Nathan's upper lip at this moment. His brother slaps his shoulder; it doesn't answer any of his silent questions, but it's good enough for now.
Nathan pours.
"There you go." He grins. "But I'm cutting you off soon, you hear? Heidi'll have my head if I get you shit faced again."
Peter doesn't really hear him. The liquid on his brother's lip is distracting; his gaze flickers from it to his eyes, which are brimming with amusement. There, Peter finds something else to capture his attention; the lines at the corner of Nathan's eyes are suddenly fascinating. He wants to touch them.
Instead, he picks up his glass, and continues staring into his brother's eyes.
"To you, Nathan."
Nathan raises his glass as well, looking back at Peter over the rim.
"To us."
Peter feels something cool wash over him. He downs his drink, slams the glass back down on the table, and the first thing he does it to lick the drop of vodka off of Nathan's upper lip. His brother starts, but Peter presses, melding their lips together, breathing. It's more than a kiss, less than brotherly. Peter feels it in his toes, and it isn't long before the sensation travels upwards, warming his body. He grips Nathan's collar, swallowing his air.
Nathan comes off his seat, towards Peter, and for a moment, they are pressed together like magnets, north and south meeting irrevocably. Peter feels electric, until Nathan shoves away.
"Peter? What in the hell...?" Nathan trails off, staring. There's a furrow of consternation and confusion on his brow. Blindly, Peter reaches out, cupping his brother's neck, and maybe it's out of reflex that Nathan does the same. They stare into each other's eyes, each for their own reasons. Nathan pulls at Peter's lower lid, checking his pupils; Peter marks the brown of his brother's eyes; clear like an aged wine.
"Come on, Pete." Nathan's voice is gentle, when he finally speaks. Peter can see him filing the incident away. A drunken fumble, an error of intoxication. "Let's get you to bed."
Peter looks up at his big brother as Nathan leads him away. He doesn't mention the kiss, not then, and not later, and Peter is bitter. If only one more time, he wants to breathe in his brother.
5.
Someone is in his apartment. Peter senses something off as soon as he steps out of the shower. He knows that he left no windows open, and yet the wind billows through his apartment, disturbing the curtains. He hears rustling, and the clink of glass coming from the living room.
Peter wraps a towel quickly around his hips, grabs a broom, and advances out of the bathroom. The sounds of searching continue, and there is the thump of quiet footsteps. He doesn't have much worth stealing, but the intruder seems intent on finding something. Peter moves like a shadow down the hallway, tightening his hold on the broom. He turns the corner carefully, eyes first, and sees—
"Nathan?"
He lowers the broom. His brother is standing at the mantelpiece, looking at pictures and small medals. He has a beer grasped in one hand and the other curled in his pocket. A sheaf of papers lies on the coffee table, next to a small, elegant box. The open window sends in streams of sunlight, illuminating his brother's suit, immaculate as always. Nathan takes a sip of beer, removing the hand from his pocket to pick up a photo of them from a few years ago, arms thrown around shoulders. At Peter's voice, he turns. A smile pushes a dimple into his rugged cheek.
"Hey Pete. It's a furnace in here; I opened a couple windows." He nods to the table. "Happy birthday, Peter."
Peter spares the box on the table another glance before staring at his brother. Nathan stares back, the corner of his mouth lifting up, higher.
"What's with the broom?"
Feeling foolish, Peter leans the broom against the wall, still not speaking. The wind in the room cascades across his bare, wet chest, making him suppress a shiver. Nathan looks amused, but Peter just stares at him. The towel sags, and he grips it with a fist before it can fall. There's a period of stillness; the silence and inaction makes it slightly awkward. Nathan clears his throat, smoothing over it, like he always does.
"Hey, it looks like you're busy; I'll just get out of your hair." He takes another swallow of beer, and looks around for a coaster on which to place the bottle. He finds one under a doily. "I just came to drop off your gift."
Peter raises an eyebrow, finally opening his mouth.
"You came to deliver a gift? Personally?" It's unlike Nathan, especially the perpetually busy Nathan of late. Peter looks at the box yet again. Deep brown leather, embossed with gold letters. Probably a stylish watch, or fancy cuff links.
Nathan shrugs, walking over.
"I'm heading to a benefit; your apartment was on the way. Besides." Another shrug. "You're my kid brother, and it's your birthday. Can't I come see you?"
Peter is staring at Nathan's shoes. There's a scuff mark near the toe of the left one; Nathan probably hasn't seen it yet. If he had, it would have been obliterated. Peter contemplates it for a moment more before looking up at his brother through the fall of his hair. His mouth twitches.
"Yeah. Sure you can." He finger-combs his bangs back. "Because you love me, right?"
Nathan smiles, breathing out a huff of amusement.
"Right. I'd give you a hug, but..." He gestures to his suit, and then to Peter's damp skin. They both chuckle; Nathan heartily, Peter quietly. He is not surprised. His heart rises in his chest.
"I gotta run. Don't forget to pass by the house tonight, okay?" Nathan thumps him on the back. There's a sting to it, and Peter sees his hand come away damp.
It's the hand Peter grabs him by before he can turn away, towards the door. Nathan looks at him in askance.
Peter leans forward, angling his lower body away. His grip is still tight on his towel. There are words on his breath, but he doesn't expel them, feeling his stomach contract. His lips are the only part of him that touch Nathan, open mouthed against his brother's clean shaven cheek. He can smell his brother's cologne, and he wants to bury his face in that warm neck, like he always does, but he restrains himself.
"Thanks, Nathan," he says. His tongue touches skin briefly before he pulls away.
Nathan gives him a quick smile that crinkles his eyes before leaving. Peter stands there for a long moment after the door shuts, looking down at himself. The towel is slipping again, but he doesn't stop it this time. His stomach feels tight, and the feeling travels down.
Peter grabs the half empty beer bottle before heading back to the bathroom. The towel slips away.
6.
"I love you, Pete. You know that."
Peter looks at him. He forgave his brother back at Coyote Sands, but even if he hadn't, he would've at this moment. This is the moment, the moment that they needed to come, and they're going to bring this bastard down because they don't have a choice, if things are going to return to anything resembling normal. It has to end. At this moment, he can't hold on to anger, and he forgives his brother, like he always does. He doesn't stop walking as he speaks.
"Of course. I love you too, Nathan."
They pause in front of the double doors, and purpose is electric in the air between them. Peter glances at his brother, his angled features, determined stance, the set of his mouth. He feels a moment come and go.
But before he can say a word, the doors are open, and his niece flies out, barrelling into the statue behind them. He doesn't have time to blink to react, to check on her, for inside, Sylar stands, smirking and crackling with energy and lightning.
Nathan forms a fist; Peter likewise. The brothers share one last look before advancing into the room.
A/N: I'd love to hear anything you have to say, as I am still a bit nervous about this fic. :x