fic: "British Vowels"
Title: British vowels
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Peter/Adam... sort of
Warning: slight spoiler for Four Months Ago
Rating: kiddie stuff... no smut (for once) ;-)
Summary: Peter dreams his fantasy is as real as he imagines
AN: something that literally popped in my head about five minutes ago *grins*
He swears he can feel Adam through the wall. Two months of hearing only British vowels without an owner and Peter knows he’s developed an addiction, an addiction to hear the other man speak and imagine the mouth that produces the accent, the lips forming the words. He fantasises about unknown hands travelling up his spine, holding him in place and crushing his body to his captor while those same talented lips ravish his mouth and spins his head so many times Peter can't remember his own name.
He has no idea if his dream about how the other man looks is even remotely plausible, but he doesn't care, not now, not yet, if ever. All he needs to focus on are strong low words resonating through the wall of his room and he goes to a place where nothing else matters but him and his dreams, Peter and Adam.
When he lays his head against the wall and closes his eyes he can feel Adam talking to him, feel the vibrations down to his core and nothing else matters. When Adam talks about his life, his time before the Company, Peter dreams the man is sitting right behind him and the cold hard wall of his cell is nothing but a thing blanket covering Adam’s hard and strong chest. He imagines the grey hospital blanket is Adam’s arms wrapped around him, enveloping him in a comforting cocoon.
It’s a heady feeling, to become addicted to nothing but a voice and let his mind fill in the necessary blanks, but Peter has always needed someone to shelter him. The most powerful man in the world, but Peter fears he can’t take care of himself, he feels that he’s never been able to take care of himself. So he develops what he needs and Adam’s strong and confident voice gives him all the incentive to imagine how reality would be, should the wall separating them be nothing but air, an easily crossed threshold.
It’s not an easily crossed threshold, not since Elle gave him the ‘Haitian pills’ and Peter is forced to keep his fantasies just what they are: fantasies. His decision to give up his powers took away his choice to pull away the blanket and feel Adam’s arms for real, see the lips forming the words, hear the vowels without the impending concrete partially obscuring the sound.
Adam talks about what would be without the wall, what they would do should Peter’s powers return. He fires Peter’s fantasy about life outside without fear of nuclear explosion. Adam tells him he can heal anything, he can heal Nathan and keep Peter from becoming dangerous. He can save Peter and the world and Peter finds himself believing whatever the man proclaimes. Peter hangs onto ever word out of Adam’s mouth like they came from a preacher proclaiming a bright and heavenly future to a starving world desperate for any hopeful sign. He believes Adam when he says Peter needs his powers. He believes Adam when he says they are going to change to world. He believes Adam and stops taking the pills.
He believes Adam because he wants to see if his fantasies can come true and the voice making the promise belongs to the man Peter’s been imagining.
When his powers eventually do come back Peter’s heart jumps painfully in anticipation. The wall separating him from his dreams is not longer an obstacle, but Peter becomes nervous of the possibilities. The wall was as much of a safety blanket as the imagined arms around him when he felt cold and alone. Adam beckons him to come through the wall and everything will be all right and, like everything Adam has told him, Peter believes him. He places his hands on the wall and pushes, heart pumping loudly when he feels the wall give and allow him access to the other side.
What he sees blows away any fantasy he’s ever had and doubles them in tenfold. Adam is so much more than what Peter could ever have possibly dreamed about.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Peter” low English sounds pronounce and Peter feels his knees buckle.
So much more than he’s ever imagined.