I Hope Tomorrow Is Like Today (Fic, Nathan/Peter)
Title: I Hope Tomorrow Is Like Today
Pairing, Characters: Nathan/Peter, Angela, Claire
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Incest, Sexual Contact, Slash, Language, Violence
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or its characters; I make no money from the writing of this story.
Spoilers: Anything up to Volume 4, Chapter 7 “Cold Snap”
Summary: The Petrelli brothers reunite after their time apart, and Nathan doesn’t think he can handle losing Peter again.
A/N: Betaed by the unbelievably awesome karaokegal. Thank you for slapping me in the face and teaching me a thing or two about Nathan Petrelli. Written for mission_insane prompt "Inspired by Songs".The song is “I Hope Tomorrow Is Like Today” by Guster. Lyrics are at the end of the fic.
***~Today~***
Nathan Petrelli stared out the grime-darkened window, into the even darker sky. He wasn’t sure why he was awake; it was five o’clock in the morning, and he couldn’t possibly have gotten more than three hours worth of sleep. The reason for this: the sleeping figure that rested on one side of the old, dusty mattress in the corner of the room in this dilapidated, abandoned shack that served as their shelter for now.
He almost didn’t want to turn back around for fear that he might have dreamed it all, that just the weight of his gaze could break the threads that tethered Peter Petrelli to earth, leaving him free to fly away again.
When this nightmare had started, Nathan hadn’t fully realized how much it would hurt to lose him. He had been right about one thing, however; his love for his brother would be the one sure thing to drive his clandestine operation six feet into the ground, and that was the reason he’d pushed Peter away. The sacrifice had ultimately changed nothing. Nathan’s world had continued to crumble down around him anyway.
Once the grains of sand had started to slip between his fingers, he’d stopped caring about his agenda. To keep his ability secret would have meant condemning Peter to death. Nathan had refused to let that happen, and because of that he’d given his secret away, revealed himself as one of them.
With the revelation came a sense of relief. Nathan no longer had to deny what he was; at least, not to the people who mattered most, the people in the world like himself, people with abilities. In his narrow-minded pursuit of power, in the interests of furthering his own career, he had taken the wrong side. He had turned his back on them, considered them a threat to be controlled, instead of a potential power in their own right, if given the chance.
Maybe with this realization, he could earn Peter’s forgiveness. Maybe he and Peter could rally them all together. And if that failed, Nathan would still rather fly forever with his brother by his side, run for the rest of their lives than pretend to be something he was not. He could only hope that what happened last night meant Peter finally understood this.
***~Yesterday~***
Nathan and Claire sat side by side on a sagging, ancient mattress that sat in the middle of what would have been a bedroom in a small abandoned house; more like a shack, really. Nathan wasn’t complaining, however. The lower profile they kept, the better. At least they were close to a residential shopping area where they’d been able to pick up a fresh change of clothes, some blankets, and dinner from a greasy spoon. Nathan turned toward his daughter and said, “I’m full. You want the rest of this, honey?”
“Yeah, if you’re not gonna eat it,” she answered numbly. He handed Claire the end of his turkey sandwich, and he was draining the rest of his iced tea when his cell phone rang. The screen flashed with a New York number he didn’t recognize.
“Hello?”
“It’s me. I’m with Mom. They went after her. I barely got her out of there. There were at least a hundred of them, Nathan.” As an afterthought, Peter added, “She wanted me to call you. Couldn’t imagine what for.”
Nathan’s heart began to beat double-time. Bennet, that bastard. I save Claire and this is how he fucking thanks me. Sends them after my mother. “Jesus Christ, Pete. They know about me now. Where are you?”
“Yeah, right, Nathan. You’ll have people here in five minutes. I can’t fucking trust you.”
“Where are you?” Nathan demanded, panic rising in him in a wave that threatened to overtake him. “Claire and I are together; they went after her too. It’s only a matter of time until they figure out what happened.”
Silence. Then Peter said, “Put her on the phone. I want to hear her voice. I don’t believe you.”
Nathan shoved the phone at his daughter and said angrily, “Talk to your paranoid uncle. Tell him I’m telling the goddamned truth.”
Claire took the phone and spluttered, “Peter! Please, you’ve got to believe him! He’s not lying! They came after me and if Nathan hadn’t come they would have captured me!”
“Okay, okay. Put him back on, Claire,” Nathan heard Peter respond.
He took the phone back and asked frustratedly, “Are you satisfied, Peter? I’m going to ask you again. Where are you?”
An equally frustrated, resigned sigh came through from the other end of the line. “In the crown of the Statue of Liberty.”
“All right, Pete. I can’t leave Claire here by herself. Where do you want to meet?”
“Well, Mom and I can’t stay in New York. Where are you?”
Nathan breathed a sigh of relief. This was the first step. His brother didn’t have to forgive him just yet, but at least now that they were on the same side, he just might start to trust him again.
He gave Peter their address and hung up the phone. Claire looked up at him expectantly. “He’s coming?” she asked, tears in her eyes.
Nathan gathered her up in his arms. Her limbs were stiff, her muscles rigid against him. He didn’t blame her; she probably didn’t trust him all that much either after what he’d allowed to happen to her a few weeks prior. The sight of an orange jumpsuit-clad Claire revealed from under a black hood, a nasal cannula shoved up her nose…that image still haunted his dreams.
“Yes, he’s coming. Your grandmother too.” He ached inside at Claire’s lost, sad stare. This was all his fault. His entire family was in danger because he’d thought he’d done the right thing. How wrong he’d been.
He tilted Claire’s face up and wiped away her tears. “Cheer up, Claire. He’ll be here before you know it. He flies just as fast as I do.”
“Okay,” Claire said, smiling halfheartedly through the tears. “I’m scared, Nathan.”
“So am I. I’ll feel a lot better when Peter gets here.”
“Me too,” she said. Claire unsuccessfully tried to stifle a yawn. “I’m really tired.”
“Lie down, take a nap. I’ll wake you up when they get here, okay?” Claire laid back on the mattress, and Nathan tucked a blanket around her. He noticed she didn’t close her eyes right away, and he asked, “You okay, sweetheart?”
“Yeah, I am. Thanks.”
Nathan watched her slip into sleep and he stood motionless at the rain-streaked, dirty window, waiting.
***
Nathan had fallen asleep standing up, and when his chin dropped to his chest he awoke, startled. The sun had buried itself beneath the covers of night, and rain poured from the sky in torrents. There was still no sign of Peter or Angela Petrelli, and his heart sank. He’s not coming. I should have known better.
Then he heard the sound of knuckles knocking on old, dry wood, a door clattering in its ill-fitted frame. He went down to the first floor and released the worthless, rusty lock, a piece of the oxidized metal breaking off in his hand.
The door swung inward, and Nathan avoided his brother’s eyes when Peter pushed past him, planting a hard shoulder into him as he went. Their mother just shook her head sadly.
Peter and Angela were both soaked to the skin, and Nathan regretted not having any extra towels or clothes for them. He watched as Peter disappeared from his line of sight, probably scoping out the first floor of the house, making sure Nathan didn’t have anybody waiting to ambush them.
Nathan helped his mother out of her heavy, wet wool coat and draped it across the back of a half-broken chair, then retrieved a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. She looked utterly exhausted, her mascara running, her dark hair plastered down around her temples. Seeing her like this shamed Nathan more than ever. This is what I’ve done to my family.
“I’m sorry, Ma,” he mumbled, turning away, intending to follow after Peter.
Angela held up a hand and said, “I don’t want to hear it, Nathan.”
Nathan was about to retort when suddenly, Peter’s arm was across his throat, backing him up, and finally Peter slammed his full weight into him, loose drywall breaking behind him as he crashed against it. Peter’s arm pressed down hard into his trachea, cutting off his air, into his carotids, darkening his sight.
“I do. Come on, I want to hear it, Nathan. Tell us how terrible you feel now that your goddamned secret’s out. Tell us how sorry you are for fucking up our lives!” Peter spat.
Nathan couldn’t answer; he could barely breathe. Peter was slightly built, but he was a lot stronger than he looked. The force increased when Nathan tried to push Peter off, his head banging back on the wall. Nathan actually saw stars, purple and yellow pinpoints smattering his field of vision.
“Pete--” he rasped. “Let go--” He really didn’t want to hurt Peter, but he could revert to his military training easily. He would give Peter a chance to let up; five seconds, no more.
“Peter! Let go of your brother right this minute!” Angela shouted, pulling Peter back. The pressure yielded, and Nathan sucked in a deep breath.
“Christ,” he said, rubbing his throat. “You’re lucky you listened to her, Peter,” he coughed. Peter raised a fist and swung, but Nathan acted quickly, grabbed his arm and twisted it behind him, wrenched it up hard. Peter fell to one knee and let out a guttural curse.
Nathan leaned over and threatened, “I’m gonna let you up and you’re not gonna swing at me again, got it?”
Peter moaned, “Fuck you. Let me go.”
Nathan released his hold on him and Peter got to his feet, but did not raise his hands to him again. Peter stared right into Nathan’s eyes defiantly, and Nathan saw anger, pain, betrayal, despair. Perhaps worst of all, beyond all that, he could almost see unspoken words, words Peter could not bring himself to say, out of pride. But his eyes…they pleaded silently, begging Nathan for an answer, a way out of this. An answer that Nathan did not have.
“What do you want me to say, Pete? My apology isn’t what you want. No, what you want is for me to pull a fucking storybook ending out of my ass! Happily ever after? I don’t fucking think so!”
Peter opened and closed his mouth a few times, but nothing came out. Nathan was at a loss for words as well. What was he supposed to say? I’m sorry sure as hell wouldn’t fix this, and Nathan could think of nothing else of any true value.
“If you hate me so much, Peter, then go. If you don’t need me, then go. Go off and save the world, just like you always do. I’m gonna do what I can to keep the rest of this family together.”
Peter sighed and said, “I do need you, Nathan. And I fucking hate myself for it.” He turned away and said no more.
Nathan noticed that their sudden burst of violence had set an already on-edge Angela to shaking, and Nathan put his arms around her.
Nathan said, “Ma, it’s okay. No more fighting. I’m gonna wake up Claire. I told her I would when you got here.”
“No, that--that won’t be necessary, dear. I’m just going to go lie down myself. I’m exhausted; Peter and I haven’t gotten much sleep.” Nathan took his mother by the arm and led her upstairs, into the bedroom where Claire was. She shifted over so Angela could lie down next to her.
“Is everything okay? I heard you and Peter yelling,” Claire said.
“Everything’s all right, Claire. Go back to sleep, okay?” He kissed his mother and Claire in turn, and hoped he would be able to find another few blankets for himself and his brother; without heat this house got very cold at night.
Nathan went back downstairs, where Peter was peeling off his wet clothing, hanging his jacket, his sweatshirt and his t-shirt on the backs of dining chairs. He had thinned out a bit too much, no doubt from neglecting to take care of himself during his weeks in hiding and on the run; his shoulder was still bandaged from his gunshot wound, and blood had soaked through the dressing. There were no first aid supplies here, and Nathan knew that Peter’s wound could easily turn septic and kill him if left unmonitored.
“Claire’s upstairs. You could go and borrow her ability for your shoulder. I mean, that’s how it works now, right? Like Dad, but you don’t take it away forever?” Nathan tried to sound as non-threatening and brotherly as he possibly could. He didn’t want another of Peter’s angry outbursts.
Nathan could see Peter’s fists clench at his sides as he uttered through gritted teeth, “Leave me alone, Nathan.”
Nathan pressed on, placing a gentle hand on Peter’s good arm. “Pete, please. Just go on upstairs and heal yourself. You were shot, for Christ’s sake. It could kill you. You know all about that. It’s what you do for a living.”
“What I used to do for a living, Nathan. Before you labeled me a so-called terrorist. Don’t worry about me. You didn’t then.”
Peter pulled off the bandage and Nathan looked down at the angry red, sutured flesh. “Pete, it looks infected. And you’re flushed. Do you feel sick? Did you take all the antibiotics?”
“I lost them when I was saving Mom from your fucking henchmen,” he sighed.
“Shit. Looks like it hurts.”
“Oh, please. I’m fine. I like the pain. Healing normally reminds me of why I got shot in the first place. Because of you. Makes it easier to remember how much I hate you.”
Jesus, Peter, tell me how you really feel, Nathan thought bitterly. I never wanted you to get hurt because of this.
“You don’t mean that, Peter. You have every right to be upset and angry with me. For what it’s worth, I am truly sorry.”
Peter pushed his hand off him and turned away. “Don’t talk to me. Don’t touch me. Don’t even look at me. I’m only here because Mom wanted to come here. You understand?”
“Yeah. I understand. I’ll leave you alone. Just promise me before you go to sleep tonight to heal yourself, all right?”
“Yeah. Fine. You’re right. If I let this go untreated I’ll probably get even sicker,” Peter relented. “I think I have a fever already.”
After a moment of silence, Peter asked, “How many rooms does this place have?”
“Two bedrooms. There’s two beds and not much else. Ma and Claire have one of them, so we’ll have to share the other,” Nathan answered.
“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Peter said.
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s freezing in this house at night,” Nathan countered. Like you’ve never shared a bed with me? he thought, then instantly reprimanded himself, Don’t even go thinking things like that. He barely wants to talk to me…he sure as hell won’t ever touch me again.
“I don’t care. I’ve slept in way worse conditions than this,” Peter said. “Do you have a lighter or matches? I can light a fire, warm the place up a bit, dry out my clothes.”
Nathan reached into his pocket and handed Peter his lighter.
“I know, don’t lose it, it was Dad’s,” Peter grumbled, shoving it into his jeans pocket.
Nathan was surprised he hadn’t refused it when he saw it; Peter and their father had never seen eye-to-eye on much of anything, and Peter usually didn’t even want to talk about him or be reminded of him at all. Maybe he just wasn’t thinking about that compared to the urgency of his present situation.
Nathan snapped out of his thoughts when he noticed Peter was glaring at him, probably expecting a smart comment in return. He almost wanted to laugh at Peter’s expression. Even at twenty-eight years old, he could still pull off the petulant child look quite well. But that would no doubt piss Peter off even more. Nathan held it back, and merely nodded.
“I love you, Peter,” he whispered to Peter’s back as he left the room. Nathan sank into the least broken of the chairs, rested his head on his brother’s damp jacket, the scent both comforting and heartbreaking. He wasn’t sure exactly how he felt right then. Relieved because his family was all together and safe, for the moment at least, but devastated over Peter’s reluctance to forgive him. He’ll come around, he tried to reassure himself.
Exhaustion finally caught up with him; he fell asleep instantly.
***
Nathan awoke to the sound of popping and crackling, a bright glow in his face, and intense, almost uncomfortable warmth surrounding him. He jerked awake, adrenaline shooting into his blood, wondering momentarily who had set this fucking tinderbox house ablaze while he slept.
He then vaguely remembered something about starting a fire to keep warm. He looked to his left and saw Peter sitting cross-legged on the floor, still shirtless, eating soup out of a Styrofoam container.
Peter looked up and held out the food. “You want some?”
“What is it?”
“To tell you the truth, I’m not sure. I think it’s cream of mushroom or something like that. I just told them to give me something that didn’t have meat in it.”
Nathan smiled and settled himself down on the floor next to Peter. “Even while on the run you’ve managed to stay a vegetarian?”
“Yeah. It’s not that hard. It’s not like all I eat is lettuce, you know.” He gave his brother the soup, and Nathan took a few sips out of the container, then handed it back. He noticed Peter’s color was back to normal, and his shoulder was now completely healed. Nathan was happy he had at least taken his advice.
Peter finished the soup and set down the container, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, leaving a black mark on his cheek from soot that had gotten on him while he was filling the fireplace.
“You’ve got something there,” Nathan said, reaching up to wipe the mark away, but Peter grabbed Nathan’s wrist and held it, and Nathan watched the brief flash of the power transfer. Peter pushed his arm down and said softly, “Please don’t, Nate. Just…don’t.”
Nathan heard something in his brother’s voice just then, and he caught Peter’s dark brown eyes before he could look away. It wasn’t that Peter didn’t want to be touched; he did, and he was angry at himself for it. Stubborn like usual. Oh, Pete, give it up, Nathan begged silently. Don’t stay angry at me forever.
Peter broke the gaze, wiped the black streak away himself and was silent. The two brothers sat there side by side, saying nothing until the fire had died down to blackened, burnt embers and gray ash.
“I’m going to sleep, Nathan. You can have the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.” Peter raised himself up and went upstairs.
Nathan sat there a few minutes longer, then followed behind.
Peter was standing at the window in the second bedroom, the window flung wide open, rain blowing in on him.
“You thinking about going?” Nathan asked, keeping his voice low and gentle. “Don’t worry, I won’t stop you. Ma’s safe. You did what you came to do.”
“No, I didn’t,” Peter whispered, wiping the rain from his face. “I wanted you to say you were wrong. What you did to me, to all of us. But you don’t think it was wrong. You thought you could control it, but it backfired in your face. You could have used your ability and your position to educate the world about us. Instead you made them afraid of us. People always fear what they don’t understand.”
Nathan sighed in defeat. “Last time I tried to tell the world about us, Pete, a future you came and shot me. But you’re absolutely right. I was wrong. Is that all you need to hear before you go?”
“There you go again. Telling me what you think I want to hear. I hate you, Nathan. I hate you. I hate you,” he repeated over and over, his voice breaking, his body shaking.
Nathan took his brother by his shoulders and turned him around, pulled him into his arms, held him tightly. “No, you don’t.”
“I hate you,” Peter insisted, his face buried into Nathan’s neck.
“No, you don’t. You’re upset because you couldn’t stop it. Because you couldn’t save the world this time. You’re pissed off at me, but you’re also thinking maybe we can do it together.”
“I hate you,” Peter repeated once more, his words muffled as Nathan’s mouth pressed upon his, effectively silencing him.
“Shh,” Nathan said. “Shh. Don’t cry.” Nathan kissed his little brother all over his face, his lips blotting away each tear as it streamed down. “Shh, Peter.”
Nathan hadn’t meant for his tender action to make Peter cry even harder. He pulled him in even tighter, Peter fighting Nathan’s embrace halfheartedly, struggling weakly, the friction of Peter’s body against him sending a rush of blood towards his groin.
Nathan said, “Peter, I love you. I love you so much. You don’t really hate me, do you?” Nathan ran his hands over Peter’s naked chest, his back, his ass, touching, soothing, remembering. He slid his palm down Peter’s stomach, and when Peter didn’t resist, he unbuttoned Peter’s jeans and pulled them down, finding him bare underneath, and almost fully hard. Nathan took a deep breath, his body responding in kind. He allowed the back of his hand to brush Peter slightly, and Peter whimpered and stopped fighting. Nathan pushed him onto the bed, placing his hands to either side of Peter’s head, hovering over him, their bodies barely touching.
“I hate you,” Peter moaned as he pulled Nathan down on top of him and arched his back, pressing himself upward, his cock bumping against Nathan’s. “I hate myself.”
Peter reached between them, pulled down Nathan’s pants and underwear in one quick motion. Nathan struggled out of them and pushed himself up off his brother, separating himself from his brother’s warm familiar scent, that beautiful body, much as he didn’t want to. He lifted his shirt over his head and smelled his own sweat, not offensive but noticeable, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it now. He knew Peter wouldn’t care; Peter was only concerned with doing this with Nathan right now.
Peter was the only person in the world whom he could hurt time and time again and from whom he could still receive unconditional forgiveness, absolution for his sins, time and time again. No one in the world could hate or love him as much as Peter.
He had just known Peter would come around. But Nathan could tell he was still fighting against it somewhat, not wanting to give himself over entirely, not just yet. Nathan stood there for a minute, not moving.
“What--what are you doing, Nathan?” Peter asked hoarsely.
“Well, Peter, I can hardly see this being consensual if you hate me. I wouldn’t want to…take advantage of you or anything.” Nathan spread his lips in a smile, taunting him.
Peter looked like he’d been punched in the stomach, precisely the reaction Nathan had been looking for. He dropped back down on top of him before Peter could say anything, and their naked bodies met, hands grasping, lips searching, urgently, as if it were the first time, the last time, the only time.
“I love you,” Peter cried, spreading his legs wide, opening himself. He pulled Nathan’s hips down so that his cock could slide up in between them, his head instantly aligned with Peter’s entrance. There you go. Once you think I won’t, that’s when you really want it.
“Make up your mind, ” Nathan admonished. “But it doesn’t matter either way, because I’ll love you no matter what.”
Whether Peter loved him or hated him, it really didn’t matter; the two emotions were not so different. Love and hate danced a fine line, blurred into one, just like the two brothers themselves did. Peter needed him, wanted him, and Nathan needed him just as much if not more.
But he would make Peter wait, now that he had him right where he’d wanted him from the start. Nathan took hold of himself and dragged the tip of his cock slowly up and down the inside of Peter’s thighs, back up to his ass, each time pressing a bit harder, eliciting low moans and whines from Peter’s throat.
“That’s right, Peter. That’s what you want,” Nathan growled. He leaned down again so Peter could kiss him.
He cried, “I hate you--I love you, Nathan. Please. Please.” Peter tried to force himself down on Nathan’s cock, but Nathan stopped him; they couldn’t do this, not without preparation, especially since Peter could not heal.
“We don’t have--” Nathan began, but Peter grabbed his hand and took all of his brother’s fingers in his mouth, licked and sucked on them until they emerged from his lips fully coated with his saliva.
“Do it, Nate,” he groaned. “I want it. Need it. Need you.”
Peter dug his fingers into Nathan’s shoulders, positively shaking beneath him, his heart pounding so hard Nathan could feel the vibration inside his own chest, and excitement spread through him, warming him, speeding his heart up to match.
“Okay.” He rubbed his saliva-coated fingers over Peter’s asshole, pushing as much of it as he could up inside him, stretching him as quickly as possible without hurting him, reminding himself again in his haste that Peter had his flight, not the healing.
Peter’s breath came in quick hard gasps and he cursed, “Fuck! Oh, God. Oh, fuck. Give it to me!”
Nathan couldn’t help but smile at Peter’s complete turnaround. But he couldn’t let Peter think he was going to get what he wanted so easily. After all, Peter had left him. Not yet, Nathan thought. Need to teach you a lesson.
Nathan rubbed what little spit was left onto himself and held his cock right up against Peter’s entrance, pushed in just past his resistance. “You want this?” he grunted, holding himself back with extreme difficulty. “You want it?”
Peter didn’t say anything; he just moaned, and Nathan felt his body shifting, his muscles relaxing and clenching repeatedly, trying to take more of Nathan into him.
Nathan held steady and hissed, “Oh, no you don’t.” He felt sweat drip down his forehead, and muscles in his lower back were seizing; he wanted Peter so badly, and it was taking an immense amount of self-control not to slam fully into him.
He leaned forward slightly, and watched Peter’s opening flare wider around the head of his cock as it penetrated him a little bit more. “Answer me. Do you want it?”
“Yeah.” Peter’s answer was barely audible over the sound of the blood rushing in Nathan’s ears.
Nathan closed his hand on Peter’s cock and jerked it roughly. “I can’t hear you, Pete. Louder.”
“Yes!” Peter choked, still crying, bearing down, still trying to force Nathan further inside him. Nathan pulled out and entered him again, burying himself halfway, pressing both palms against Peter's ass cheeks to prevent him from doing it again.
“Please!” Peter begged, squirming and writhing.
God, he is beautiful, Nathan thought, looking down at him. He could tell Peter was desperate now, his anger redirected at having to wait until Nathan was good and ready to give it to him.
Nathan brought a hand to Peter’s face, traced his cheekbone delicately, ran his fingers through Peter’s damp hair, and sighed. “Patience. Don’t lie to me. You need me or you don’t. You love me or you hate me.”
“You want the truth? I love you so much I hate you, and I need you! Now shut the fuck up and fuck me!”
One swift thrust and Peter was his again, that lithe body arching and twisting and turning beneath him while Nathan drove his cock into him furiously. Peter groaned and gripped Nathan’s back so hard his hands slipped on his sweaty skin, his fingernails cutting into him, but Nathan hardly felt it. Soon he pulled him in closer, raising Peter’s legs up for a better, deeper angle.
He paid no attention to his own body’s demands while he listened to Peter cry out and curse, ultimately biting down into his hand to silence himself when Nathan’s cock hit that place inside him again and again.
“You like that?” Nathan demanded, blinking the sting of sweat out of his eyes.
“Yes. Oh, fuck, yes,” Peter answered, throwing his head back, his arms falling away from Nathan’s body.
Nathan manipulated his brother’s cock in his fist as he fucked him, and he saw Peter’s face contorting, heard his breath hitching, felt his thighs trembling. He asked, “Are you gonna come for me, beautiful?”
Peter moaned, “Yes, oh, God, right now! Oh, ohh--!”
Nathan watched while Peter’s cock pulsed in his hand, a fine white jet of come arcing towards his chest, the rest running over Nathan’s fingers.
When Peter lay back, lungs heaving, sweating, Nathan moved faster, pushed deeper, and finally, shaking and gasping, his orgasm tore from his back and thighs, right through the head of his cock, come shooting out from him and into Peter. The angle of Nathan’s finishing thrusts sent Peter into spasm once again, a look of surprise coming to Peter’s face. He grabbed himself and cried out softly, a small spurt of semen and then a trickle coming from his half-hard cock.
“Jesus Christ,” Peter muttered shakily. “Oh, fuck. Nathan.”
“For a pretty boy like you, you sure have a dirty mouth, Peter,” Nathan said, leaning over and kissing him hard, forcing his lips open. Peter’s tongue snaked around his, darted in and out of his mouth, teasing him. Annoyed slightly, Nathan bit down into his brother’s lip, just barely breaking the flesh.
“Hey!” Peter cried. “That hurt!” He gripped Nathan’s biceps and pulled him down on top of him, smearing his come all over Nathan’s chest.
“That’s what you get,” Peter laughed, looking completely pleased with himself.
“Asshole,” Nathan grumbled. He got up and hunted around for yesterday’s discarded shirt to clean himself up with. He folded it in half and handed it to Peter, and he did the same.
Nathan crawled into the bed and pulled the blanket over them both, and said, “Only one blanket, Pete, so you gotta keep me warm.”
Peter slipped into Nathan’s arms without protest, and laid his head on Nathan’s shoulder, and they fell asleep there together, just like they had done so many times before they had lost each other. Everything they had always been, everything they were now, everything they couldn’t let go.
***~Today again~***
Nathan shook off his daydream of yesterday and opened his eyes, hoping Peter would be there when he turned around.
Peter lay on his back, his hair a mess, his mouth half-open, still sleeping, twisted up in the blanket that barely covered him adequately. Nathan felt tears come to his eyes, and blinked them away. It had been real. Peter was still here, still his, still beautiful.
Just the fact that his brother was still here made it seem that he’d finally forgiven him. But he had to be sure.
Nathan lay down next to him, adjusted the covers and wrapped his arms around him tightly, inadvertently waking him. Peter stretched as well as he could manage beneath the force of Nathan’s embrace and sighed, “Morning. You’re crushing me.”
Nathan turned Peter’s head to face him and said softly, “Peter. Promise me something.”
“What, Nathan? Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m all right. Just promise me.”
Peter pulled Nathan in close and said, “What?”
“Whatever happens, Peter, don’t…don’t go away. Don’t fly away again.”
“I won’t. I promise, okay?” Peter said, snuggling in closer to his brother. “If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be here, you know that.” He smiled, the first smile Nathan had seen on his face in a long while.
Nathan let out the breath he’d been holding. “Okay.” Peter really had forgiven him, and for that he was immensely grateful.
Everything seemed much clearer now. With their conflict ended, he was now confident that they could concentrate fully on keeping the Petrelli family out of the clutches of this government operation he had initiated. Peter had been a fugitive for longer than he had, and Nathan had the advantage of knowing the inner workings of Building 26. Their chances of surviving this, of stopping this had increased substantially now that he and his brother were together.
Nathan sat up and said, “We should probably get up, wake up Ma and Claire, get ready to go. We can’t stay here for much longer. We have to figure out our next move.”
Peter looked at his brother closely, and noted, “You look like you haven’t slept at all, Nathan. Come on.” Peter patted the place Nathan had vacated. “I want to get some more sleep, a few more hours at least. You should too. I figure we have one, maybe two more days here before we need to move on.”
“All right,” Nathan conceded. Nathan took his brother’s usual position, his head on Peter’s shoulder, the hurt one that was no longer hurt. He closed his aching, tired eyes, stilled his racing mind. Peter had a point; they absolutely needed to be rested if they were going to have any chance of staying one step ahead.
Sleep now; fly later.
***
A/N: Here’s the song lyrics, I did paraphrase them somewhat so I figured I should stick them in here.
I'm awake, you're still sleeping
The sun will rise like yesterday
Everything that we are now
Is everything we can't let go
Or it’s gone forever, far away
I hope tomorrow is like today
Don't you go away tomorrow
I don't think I could handle that
You're probably dreaming that you're flying on
Then you start to fall
But then you rise
and shine forever
Don't go away
I hope tomorrow is like today