A month had passed since the party. The boys were off in school during the day. Heidi was now five months pregnant and her hormones were getting the better of her. She didn't intend to be mean, but she was. Nathan was patient and loving, but he was also human. He'd taken to working late, which only upset her more. He came in one night just before dinner and she threw him out for having the temerity to think he could come in as dinner was served, eat and then retreat to the study until she went to bed. She yelled at him. She made a scene. He left angry. Her words were still ringing in his ears as he showed up in front of Peter's apartment. Somehow it seemed right to go to the residence of the person she most didn't want him to be with.

He rang the bell and waited, wondering if Peter would even be there. He worked a rotating shift at the hospital and there was no telling when Bennet might rope him into a road trip on Company business. A shadow moved over the eyehole. Nathan waited calmly. It did not occur to him that his brother might not let him in. After too much time had passed, he cocked his head and said, "Come on, Pete. Let me in. I know you're in there."

Peter opened the door, partway, regarding him.

Nathan started to step in, but Peter didn't move. After a second of being too close, Nathan stepped back, looking at Peter quizzically.

"What are you doing here?" Peter asked, plainly affronted by Nathan's mere presence darkening his doorstep.

Nathan shrugged and pretended to remain oblivious to the cold shoulder. "Heidi threw me out. I got rid of my apartment last spring. Wanted to go somewhere I knew." He looked off to the side and shrugged one shoulder. "Talk to someone."

Peter sighed. "Threw you out… why?" How is your marriage my problem, Sylar?

Nathan looked around the hallway and then directly at Peter. "Are we seriously going to have this conversation in the hall?" His voice held a touch of heat at the unwarrantedly cool reception.

Peter looked him up and down, then shook his head and opened the door. Nathan always came to me when he had problems. I went to him. I guess… that hasn't changed. It was kind of comforting.

Nathan waited until the door was fully shut behind him. Then he wandered around the apartment, looking it over. It hadn't changed much since the previous fall. It was still spartan, mostly empty. One of the walls had clippings and pictures on it, but instead of being people Peter had saved, it was people with special abilities Peter had helped. Nathan wandered the open space of the apartment, saying, "It's this pregnancy. It's making her… tense. She sees things where they aren't, accuses me of things. Am I ever glad I picked an older receptionist." He shook his head.

Peter asked, "You want something to drink? Water?"

"Yeah, that'd be fine. You have anything stronger?"

"No, I don't." Peter got two bottles out of the fridge.

"Oh, yeah." Nathan nodded and recalled Peter's opinion about alcohol. You could get him to drink some with a meal, if it was socially required, but that was where his interest in it ended. Nathan looked at some of the pictures on the wall. It occurred to him that it was a handy roster of potential victims. He twitched and walked away from it after thinking that, looking for something else to look at.

Peter handed him the water, looking from Nathan to the wall. Nathan said suddenly, "I'm not looking at that. It's not… I'm not looking at it."

Peter didn't say anything, taking a seat on the battered yellow couch he'd rescued when a neighbor moved out. The last time Nathan had been in his apartment had been Thanksgiving. Nathan paced uneasily, looking around the place with nervous, unsettled energy as if he was thinking much the same thing. After a long silence had passed, Peter said, "It's been a long time. Since you were in here."

"Yeah," Nathan said. "Was it… is it a mistake for me to be here?" He turned and looked at Peter directly, intently. He often telegraphed when he was listening for lies, Peter had noticed. I wonder why he does that? He doesn't have to.

Peter answered vaguely, "I don't know. You said you wanted someone to talk to."

"Yeah. Yeah." Peter watched Nathan move across the floor, standing in the doorway to the dining room. He walked uneasily across the empty room, raising his hands as if touching the air or feeling something there. He stood in one place, head tilted as if listening, then crossed to stand on the other side of the room. The table wasn't there anymore. Peter had gotten rid of it and the chairs both. He watched as Nathan, Gabriel held up one hand, two fingers together in the motion Sylar used to cut into people's heads.

Peter wasn't outraged or shocked. Instead he was curious about what Gabriel was seeing and what it meant to his fractured, now reformed, mind. This was where one of his component personalities had turned on the other. It was where Nathan had won out and Sylar had been defeated, though Peter hadn't thought of it that way until just now. He'd seen it before as the most wrenching event of his own life. He'd considered getting another apartment altogether, but so much had happened afterwards that he hadn't gotten around to it. By the time he had the opportunity, the man who was in the dining room now had been neutralized in a cell in Nebraska - no threat to anyone, or so it had seemed.

His examination apparently complete, Nathan came out and sat down next to him. In his defense, it was the only seat available in the room. Peter moved to the opposite end of the couch. Nathan looked at that and then rolled his head, looking away. "Peter. The woman I love just threw me out. I assume maybe I can go back tomorrow. But in the meantime, please don't act like this."

"Like what?" Peter said defensively.

"Like I'm some sort of pariah, that's what. Like I'm a leper you don't want to get too close to. Like I'm a monster who might… might do that again." He gestured at the dining room.

Peter considered that and shifted on the couch so he was no longer as far as possible from the other man. "Nathan," he used the name with some difficulty, "You're not the only one who's had trouble with this, with all this."

Nathan turned to him suddenly, "I know. I know that. I'm sorry. I know you think I have no right being what I am, looking like what I look like. But… that's who I am, Pete. I've stayed away from you, because… because I think that's what you want. Certainly it's what Heidi wants. You used to be my world. I know that." He tapped his temple. "And every time I'm with you since then… you're pulling away." After a long pause, he said, "I need someone. I want someone. Someone I can talk to, at least. We used to have that."

"I had that with Nathan," Peter said neutrally.

The other man nodded. "Yeah. You had it with me." He looked at Peter, whose eyes narrowed slightly.

Peter watched him for a long moment, recalling how hurt he'd been in Omaha when Gabriel had pulled away from him repeatedly, spurning casual touches and comforting proximity. It had made Peter certain that the person he was dealing with might have Nathan's memories, but it wasn't him. Now he had someone who had Nathan's memories and wanted to have the same relationship they'd had before... and it was Peter who was pulling away. Finally he said, "Why the change?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

Peter searched his face and realized he'd been misunderstood. "No, the change. When… after Parkman worked on you," he noted Nathan's expression flattened and stilled, "after that, you were a stranger, most of the time. You were Gabriel. You could wear Nathan's face and you answered to his name, but you were confused. You weren't him. You didn't want… you didn't react to me like you did at the party, like you're doing here. Why did that change?"

"I got Claire's ability."

Peter blinked at him. How does regeneration help?

As if able to read his mind, he went on, gesturing at his head, "It rearranged my head. Took out all the contradictions. Made me stop being crazy. It fixed me. The second time, in February. The first time it helped a lot, but you're right. I was confused about who I was. The second time, I wasn't confused anymore. I'm…" he shrugged, "Not always sure who I have been, but I know who I am. Does that make any sense?"

Peter leaned forward slightly, looking at the man. "A little." So, he doesn't think he's Gabriel posing as Nathan. He really thinks he is Nathan. Or near enough. Peter turned around in his head how he felt about that. Does that mean he is Nathan? Hope still burned in his heart. Anything is possible.

"Have you had dinner?" Nathan's voice broke into his thoughts and pulled him out of his reverie.

"What?" Peter replied. "Um… no. I was going to have a sandwich or something later."

His brother pulled out his phone. "How about I call in some Chinese or a pizza or something?"

Peter nodded, "Sure."

Nathan dialed. "I didn't get dinner at home," he explained grumpily.

Peter nodded.

An hour later, Peter had heard all the details of Nathan's problems with Heidi. He agreed they were hormonal, probably normal and something to be endured. She'd get better, eventually. Nathan was still frustrated about it. They'd also stopped having sex, which seemed to coincide with the emergence of her suspicions that he would soon be cheating on her. Peter prescribed ice cream, chocolate, flowers and flattery. Nathan said he'd follow the doctor's orders.

They carried the trash from dinner into the kitchen, the conversation having shifted to Peter's work schedule and how difficult it was to balance with Company business. Peter dropped his stuff in the can and turned, finding Nathan right next to him doing the same. Nathan looked up, realizing how close they were, too close. His eyes traveled up and down Peter's body for a moment and then across Peter's face. His expression dulled and he started to step away.

Peter reached out for him. Nathan let him pull him around to face him again. He studied Peter's face. Very deliberately, Peter raised his hand to Nathan's jaw and stroked it along the light stubble there. He looks like Nathan. He thinks he is Nathan. Is that good enough? Is he Nathan? He didn't know. His body clearly felt it was.

Of course, his body had gotten him into this crazy relationship with his brother in the first place, with one too many reactions to Nathan's frequent touch, until finally Nathan had noticed. It was only a matter of time after that until they acted on it. He opened his mouth slightly and tugged on Nathan's chin. Nathan leaned into him and put his lips to Peter's mouth for a moment, hesitating, looking at Peter's eyes. Peter pressed into him and he deepened the kiss.

Nathan put his hands on either side of the wall and Peter leaned back against it, thrilling to the intimate touch he'd been denied for nearly a year. Sylar? Gabriel? Nathan? God, he looks like Nathan, acts like him, smells like him, tastes like him… He ran his hands over Nathan's sides and chest, pulling his shirt out to touch his skin around his waist. Nathan kissed him passionately, then lightly across the face. "How do we do this?" he breathed.

"Huh? We're doing it," Peter said, bringing his hands higher under Nathan's shirt.

"No… I mean… Uhh…" Nathan leaned his body into Peter's letting him know how he felt about things at this point and making it awkward for Peter's hands to continue roaming. "I mean, I don't have all my memories," he ground out.

Peter didn't exactly freeze, but everything shifted into a lower gear. "What? You mean… what do you remember?" He's here, he's doing this. What the hell?

Nathan exhaled, gathering his wits and reigning in his desire to dry hump Peter into the wall. "I remember we were together, we… I don't know the details. There aren't any. I assume we've…" He swallowed and muttered, "I hate Matt Parkman. I fucking hate him for what he's done to me."

Peter removed his hands, having the awkward feeling he'd been touching a stranger.

"No!" Nathan stood back and caught at his hands, a pained expression on his face. "That's… Peter, that's not unusual. There's a lot of things I don't have it all for, that I have only partial recall. I know we've been together. I want to be again. I just don't remember… exactly what we've done. What you like, that sort of thing." He moved his head back in for a kiss, desperate not to ruin the moment with his problems. Shouldn't have said anything and just went with it. He probably wouldn't have noticed. He'd mentioned it though, precisely because if Peter had noticed, and had thought it meant he wasn't really Nathan, that there would never, ever, be a second time.

Peter breathed him in, thought it over and kissed him back. Their exchange became heated again, kissing, touching, loosening clothes and exploring. Peter told him, "Bedroom."

As they entered, Nathan took off his clothes. His shirt was already unbuttoned. It and the t-shirt were off, followed quickly by his slacks. He pulled the boxers down with them and put the whole set carefully on the footboard of the bed. Peter was watching him, smiling at the sight. Not only was Nathan's body pleasing to him, but he was greatly buoyed by seeing him carry out one of Nathan's personal quirks. Nathan turned and frowned a little at Peter for still being fully clothed.

"You want to do this?" Peter asked him.

"Yeah," Nathan breathed, searching Peter's face. There was a darkness there, an uncertainty and a distance, but Nathan trusted him, putting his faith in Peter's hands.

Peter took his shoulder and turned him to face the mattress. "Lean over." He did.

Peter got out a tube of lubricant from his nightstand and rubbed his free hand over Nathan's back. Peter liked the feel of his skin. Obviously, Nathan liked him feeling it. He stretched and moaned under his touch. Peter leaned over his body, folding himself around the other man and rubbed the bulge of his groin against Nathan's bare ass. He humped him twice, Nathan pushing back into him the second time. He put his face on the back of his neck and nuzzled. He got a receptive guttural sound in response.

Content that his partner was ready, he put his hand between his legs and urged them spread. He opened his fly and removed himself - a little early, but if he waited, it was likely his hands would be slippery. He dispensed lube onto his hand and moved his fingers between Nathan's cheeks. The other man's breathing quickened appreciably. Peter smiled. One thing was for sure, he was a lot more responsive than he used to be - not that he'd ever been dull, but he responded strongly to Peter's every touch.

"What…" Nathan tensed as Peter's fingers began to probe at him. "What are you going to do?" He looked back, hair tousled.

Really handsome, Peter thought. Drop-dead gorgeous, in fact. "I'm going to fuck you in the ass, Nathan." It was stronger language than he normally used, but he was feeling more intense than he usually did. For one thing, Nathan was not generally so compliant, following his lead entirely and desperate for his affection. If Peter's own mind had not been so clouded with lust, he might have thought more about that and more about how Nathan had said he didn't remember the actual sex. For the other thing, Peter was human. In the back of his mind, there remained some similarity between this man and Sylar. The idea of pounding Sylar, dominating him completely, was irresistibly arousing to him. He acted on it without thinking it through.

He loosened him with one finger and then another, hearing grunts and groans of surprise and anticipation. Peter positioned himself and started to push in gently, still clothed other than his organ projecting from his opened pants. Nathan was tight, too tight. After several failed thrusts, Nathan said, "You're going to have to push harder, Peter. You're not going to hurt me." He'd reached down and was stroking himself with one hand, holding himself up with the other.

Peter grimaced, pulling back and forth a bit, working into it. "That's not the point. I don't want it to hurt, either." He bit his lip and withdrew, working his brother with his fingers again and applying more lubricant. "Just relax. Relax yourself. You've done this before." Nathan grunted inarticulately, but his muscles relaxed enough that Peter thought he could make a second try at it. This time he was successful at entering and started pushing in and out in small strokes. Nathan was so tight it was heavenly. Nathan groaned as if through clenched teeth and put both hands on the mattress, pushing back against him, causing Peter to thrust in nearly his whole length.

"Ohhh! Yeah," Peter said, gripping Nathan's hips and bucking into them more solidly. He found a rhythm quickly, thrusting steadily and pushing into him, using the pressure of his fingers to guide Nathan's response. Nathan kept up with him, panting and being used, being filled and pounded and thrusted into. Peter reached a crescendo, clenching his teeth and trying to keep to the rhythm he'd been using. It was working - it was driving him right over the edge. When he finally came, it was a wave of pleasure that washed through his whole body, making him shudder with the force of it. Breathing heavily, he leaned over Nathan's body and kissed his back gratefully.

It occurred to Peter, belatedly, that this was just about the least intimate position he could have chosen. Probably why I picked it. I'm… I'm being an asshole. The realization was surprising to him. "Come on, roll over. Let me help you out."

He pulled out and Nathan rolled over, sitting on the bed, flushed and still panting. He didn't have an erection at all, having stopped touching himself as soon as Peter had entered him. Peter kissed him, not thinking about it, and ran his hands over the other man's body. Nathan responded and was soon hardening again. Peter took him in his hand and started stroking, fingers rubbing along his length expertly. Nathan was clearly aroused, but he seemed to be having some sort of trouble. He stared at Peter, kissed him briefly, then looked confused, his eyes almost glazed like he was about to come. His hips, his whole body was moving in time to Peter's ministrations, but he pushed away from the other man suddenly. "No! No. Stop, stop. I've… got to take a shower."

To Peter's surprise he pushed him away and went to the bathroom, starting the water running and getting in immediately. The water had to be freezing, since he didn't let it warm up, as Peter knew well. Nathan didn't curse the temperature. He was silent. Peter walked into the bathroom after him and looked at the closed curtain. He could hear Nathan panting, his breathing slowing and calming. Peter took a washcloth, ran it under the sink's water and washed his hands and himself off, tucking himself back into his pants. He'd change later because he had the smell of sweat and sex all over his clothes, but for the moment it was enough.

He put the lid of the toilet down and sat, listening to Nathan shower and wondering what had just happened. Was it the position? Was it that… if he didn't remember… does that sort of make him a virgin? Did I… did he really want what I did? He thought back to Nathan's reactions. They were strong when they were kissing or touching, but very subdued by comparison when Peter started penetrating him. His sounds… could have been enduring it instead of enjoying it. He thought about the complete lack of erection after Peter had thoroughly fucked him. Most men would be rock hard at that point, ready for their own release.

Was it that I was taking the lead too much, on top of him, pushing him around? Nathan had always been dominant, though not ridiculously so. He was flexible, but if Peter had turned him to the bed, told him he was going to tap his ass and then proceeded to do so without even asking permission, Nathan would have rebelled at some point. Peter had been heady with lust at that point. He hadn't noticed the lack of resistance other than to be turned on by having turned the tables on his lover (and perhaps on his enemy). He frowned. Now his partner would rather take a cold shower than be with him. It was off-putting, to say the least.

How do I salvage this? The shower turned off. Nathan looked out and at the towel rack. Peter handed over a towel wordlessly. Nathan dried in the stall. Yep, he's pissed. Bad, really bad body language there and I doubt, him being Nathan or Gabriel or whatever, that he'll even admit it. Too much ego to admit I hurt him. Peter thought about just letting it be. It would end any physical component of a relationship with the man and likely make him distant as to the touching as well. If he hadn't felt so strongly it was his fault, he probably would have done just that. As it was, Nathan wasn't giving him a word of accusation or blame. It made him feel worse for it.

His brother stepped out of the shower with the towel wrapped around his waist. He looked at Peter blankly. Peter racked his brain trying to think of an appropriate subordinate come-on. It was easier being dominant - you just said what you wanted. Now he had to appeal to someone who didn't want him, and persuade him to let him do him. "Can you… help me?"

Nathan took a step closer, looking at him. He couldn't see what help Peter needed, but he didn't speak. He didn't trust himself to speak. Peter did his best to look needy and vulnerable, which earned him Nathan stepping closer, into arm's reach. Peter looked up at him, breathing a bit harder. That was all he could think to do - be passive, look aroused and see what happened. "You can come closer," he invited.

Nathan tilted his head to the side and did so, his knees brushing Peter's. Peter spread his legs to either side and Nathan stepped between them. He pulled Peter against him, thinking his brother must be confused by his sudden departure earlier. He rubbed his fingers across Peter's face, across the smooth skin on his cheeks. He had stubble lower, but Nathan liked the smooth parts better. He pushed him back a little and leaned down to kiss him, turning his face up to him. Peter let him set the intensity, which was gentle, slow and moderate. He stood back up and ran his hand through Peter's hair. "It's okay," Nathan said.

Peter looked from Nathan's face to the towel, which had slipped somewhat. He looked back and forth again, opening his mouth slightly and licking his lips. Nathan blinked as he gathered what he was being asked. He reached down and tugged at the towel. "Go ahead." Peter pulled the towel away and put it on his leg. He looked up at Nathan again. Nathan was swelling again, sensitive to every puff of breath he felt from Peter.

"Go on," Nathan urged.

"You want me to?"

Nathan blinked again. "Yes." Why does he need to ask? But his ego was definitely stroked by the question. His penis twitched upwards.

Peter nuzzled his belly and reached up to cradle his shaft, aiming it for his mouth. At the last moment Nathan pulled away with a grunt. Peter waited. This was not unexpected. Nathan ran his hand over Peter's head and through his hair. He knotted his left hand in his brother's hair, an odd, distant expression on his face.

Oh, don't you pull my hair. I hate that, Peter thought, but he smiled a little and relaxed his neck, letting Nathan pull his head to the side. As long as he wasn't actually pulling on his hair and was just moving him, just holding his head in position, that didn't bother Peter. He'd been with men though who thought of hair as something to yank on and most of the time Peter had plenty of fringe for them to get a hold of. He hadn't appreciated the experience. He'd shaved his hair short, but it had since grown out.

Nathan was content to stretch the line of his neck to one side, exposing his throat to the fingers of his right hand. He slid his fingers across his neck, lingering on the younger man's throbbing pulse, rubbing over his windpipe and up under his chin. Peter realized Nathan was panting again. He looked up and could see that Nathan's eyes were sliding in and out of focus. He was hard and throbbing less than an inch in front of him as well.

"Now," he said, nudging himself closer so Peter could take him in without touching him with his hands. Peter opened his mouth and let Nathan guide himself into him. As the head passed his lips, Nathan groaned. "Oh, God!" He pulled out and released Peter's hair, putting his hands on the countertop next to him and the wall on the other side. He hunched inward and came across Peter's chest, making two involuntary thrusts. He leaned against him. Peter put his arms around his waist, holding him there until his breathing steadied. He got off just from… that. That's… different. Not entirely Nathan. Sort of. Just not entirely. Peter thought about it. Holding the other man to him, he thought he could deal with it.

"I'm… sorry. Your shirt." Nathan backed away from him.

Peter handed him the washcloth he'd used earlier. "Here." He took the towel from his knee and blotted at himself, smiling. "If it's a choice between my mouth and my shirt, I'll take the shirt." He smiled up at Nathan. "I understand the mouth happens, sometimes it's cool, but this is awfully polite. Thanks." He got enough off to unbutton his shirt and take it off without getting sticky. It amused him and comforted him - Nathan had always been quite the clothes-horse. If Nathan had a choice between swallowing or getting it on his precious clothes, he'd be swallowing every time. It was the opposite of most people Peter knew and made it easier to accept the other changes.

Nathan grunted and went out to get dressed. Probably disapproves of my priorities, Peter grinned to himself.