Fic: Yen, 5/12
Yen
By kalimyre
Pairing: Kensei/Hiro, Adam/Hiro
Rating: Adult
Summary: In which the fairy tale does have a happy ending, but not the one you were expecting.
Notes: As always, thank you to my fabulous betas: powered_otaku and soulpeddler.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
~~~
Part 5
Hiro was still half asleep, and more than a little dazed at Adam’s creative way of waking him, so they were out the door and in the back of a long, sleek car before he was quite sure what was happening. The interior smelled of leather and cigarette smoke, and he and Adam sat on one bench seat together, shoulders bumping companionably. Bob sat across from them, an expression of fixed politeness on his face, hands folded neatly together over one knee.
Adam seemed intent on staring him down, and Bob just smiled calmly and looked utterly unruffled, and Hiro thought if they sat in uncomfortable silence much longer he was going to start babbling out of sheer nerves. All he could think was this man had seen them, this man had seen Adam kissing him. This man knew about them, and he knew Suresh, and he almost certainly knew Hiro’s father. And he was going to tell his father. And then all life on Earth would come to a horrible crashing halt.
Hiro swallowed hard and pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Are you...?” And how was he going to finish that question? There was no good way to ask a random stranger if he planned to out you to your very forbidding, traditional, and frighteningly good with a sword father.
“Yes?” Bob asked, leaning forward a little. “Am I what?”
“Where are we going?” Hiro asked instead.
“To the hospital,” Bob replied. “The son of an old friend was injured, and I’d like to help him.”
“By using me,” Adam said flatly.
“By using a little of your blood,” Bob corrected. “It’s not as if you can’t spare it. The Company will be very grateful for your help and I can assure you, we are quite generous with our thanks.”
Adam narrowed his eyes and said nothing, and Hiro looked anxiously between them. “What about your blood?” Hiro asked Adam, switching to Japanese. Although judging by the small curl of a smile on Bob’s face, he already spoke the language.
“Apparently it cures all ills,” Adam replied in kind. “The good doctor was quite excited about it, anyway.”
“Oh,” Hiro said, not sure what to make of that. Good that they could help someone, of course, but it was Adam’s blood. It didn’t seem fair that they got to decide who to give it to without even asking him.
The car hummed along in silence for a while, Adam watching the city flow by outside the window and Hiro trying to remember every time he’d ever stood up to his father and won. It was a disappointingly short list. There was the time when he was fourteen that he had kept his comic book collection, even after his father insisted it be thrown out (by pretending to concede, then hiding it all at Ando’s house), and the time he had refused to return and be an executive in his company (by proving that he’d be terrible at it and his sister was far better for the job) and... and that was about it.
Hiro sighed and slumped in the seat. Beside him, Adam remained upright and tense, and didn’t notice.
When they pulled up to hospital it was late, the sun long since set, but the hospital continued to hum with activity. They went through big double doors into a bright white room, the fluorescent glare making Hiro wince and rub the bridge of his nose. He trailed along after Adam and Bob, watching Adam’s expression grow more alarmed as they went past door after door, every one with a bed and a patient.
“So many sick,” Adam murmured, and cast a wary glance at Bob.
Hiro frowned, confused, and touched Adam’s arm. “What’s wrong?”
“Never mind,” Adam said quickly.
“Right in here,” Bob said, pushing into a quieter hallway. The lights were low here, the doors closed, patients sleeping within. A woman at a nurse’s station halfway down the hall looked up, met his eyes, nodded and went back to her paperwork. Their footsteps echoed down the hallway, the smooth click of Bob’s dress shoes and the soft tread of Adam’s sneakers, whisper quiet. Hiro felt the hair on the back of his neck rise into points of prickling cold, and he shivered, walking a little faster.
Bob paused in front of one of the doors, regarding them both steadily. “He’ll be sleeping,” he said in a hushed voice. “Don’t wake him.”
Then he opened the door, and they stepped in, the door shutting with a soft click behind them. At first the man in the bed was just a shape beneath the pristine white sheets, but as they drew closer, Hiro could see the layers of gauze, and the terribly burned skin. He bit his tongue to keep quiet.
Bob flicked on a lamp by the bed, throwing the man’s face into sharp relief. Half of it was red and scarred, puffed into thick tissue, leaving his eye little more than an indentation in the face, but the other side was untouched, was healthy, was familiar.
“Flying man?” Hiro said, his voice coming out paper thin.
“Nathan Petrelli,” Bob said. “His mother is a close friend, of myself and of the company. As soon as I heard what you can do,” he added to Adam, “I thought of him.”
“How did this happen?” Hiro asked, taking a cautious step forward. The man in the bed didn’t stir, the monitor beside him beeping steadily, quietly to itself. Clear fluid dripped into a tube running into his arm, and of course, Hiro thought. Of course he must have medicine. Of course he must be in terrible pain. Hiro closed his eyes for a long moment, his mouth wavering crookedly.
“Peter,” Bob said simply. “He couldn’t stop it.”
“Peter Petrelli?” Hiro asked. “Stop what?”
“The explosion, of course,” Bob said. “Peter couldn’t stop the chain reaction. If Nathan hadn’t taken him high into the atmosphere, he would have destroyed half the city.”
Hiro shook his head, backing away until his shoulders hit the wall. “No, Sylar was the bomb. I killed him. I stopped it.”
“I’m afraid not,” Bob replied. “Sylar was a threat, of course. Don’t think we don’t appreciate the favor you did us, taking him out of the picture. But it was Peter who was the real danger all along.”
Hiro closed his eyes. He could feel the sword in his hands again, the slide of it, the way Sylar’s breath had caught in a shocked wheeze, the thick copper-salt smell of the blood. And if he’d killed and he didn’t have to, if he’d killed for anger, for revenge for Charlie, for anything but saving lives...
“Hiro,” Adam said beside him, his hands on Hiro’s shoulders. “Breathe.”
Hiro obeyed, forcing the deep, steady breaths until his legs stopped feeling like rubber and his head cleared. When he opened his eyes, Adam was watching him with concern, questions writ large on his face, but Hiro shook his head. This was not the time.
“Please save Nathan,” he said, jerking his chin toward the man on the bed. “Make him better.”
Adam frowned but did as he was asked, moving to Nathan’s side. He looked uncertainly at the IV line, and Bob stepped up, taking a syringe off the table. “Let me,” he said, and Adam extended his arm.
The blood draw was quick, and Bob injected it into the IV bag, the swirl of red clouding the clear fluid and running down the tube. They stood around the bed, watching, and Hiro touched Adam’s hand, startled when Adam immediately grasped at fingers, squeezing tight. Hiro looked at him, at the tight line of his jaw, the line between his eyebrows, and thought, he’s afraid.
That it wouldn’t work? Or that it would?
“There,” Bob said softly. Hiro watched as the burned skin thinned, then faded, healthy skin revealed beneath it, spreading fast. Soon Nathan’s face was whole again, smooth and clean, his eyes still closed in sleep. The monitor beeped on the same as before, the gauze wrap lying limp over healed skin, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath the pristine white sheet.
“He never even woke up,” Adam said.
“Morphine,” Bob said. “We should go.”
“You’re just going to leave him like that?” Adam asked.
“Like what?”
“You don’t think he’ll wonder what happened?”
Bob smiled. “Nathan knows the company would do a lot for him. He knows we have... unique resources. He’ll understand.”
“Will he,” Adam said flatly. “And what will the company expect in return?”
“We don’t want to be in here when the nurse comes to check on him,” Bob said, leading them toward the door. “That will only lead to difficult questions.”
“And clearly you don’t like difficult questions,” Adam muttered, but he followed, Hiro beside him.
“You did a good thing,” Hiro said softly. “You healed him.”
Adam nodded, but his mouth was a thin line, his eyes distant.
Bob led them back out of the hospital, and the car was there waiting for them. Adam balked at the door, one hand on Hiro’s arm. “We’ll get home from here,” he said.
“It would really be better if you stayed in the city,” Bob said. “You have important work with Dr. Suresh. We have a place ready for you.”
“No,” Adam said. “Thanks. We’ll pass.”
Hiro thought of his dusty apartment, full of spoiled food, and then of what kind of place someone like Bob could get them in New York. “Maybe we should...” he started.
“No,” Adam said again, giving Hiro a hard look. “We’re going home.”
Bob considered, then said, “I trust you’ll be returning in the morning. Thank you for your help today Adam, Hiro.” He nodded at them, then slipped into the car.
Hiro watched as it pulled away, a little disappointed. “Why couldn’t we stay in New York?” he asked.
“I don’t want to be right under their thumbs,” Adam said. “Where they can watch, where they can find us any time they want.”
Hiro frowned. “Adam... they’re friends of my father. They helped Nathan.”
“For altruistic reasons, I’m sure,” Adam muttered. He turned to Hiro, cupping a hand on the back of his neck, and gave him a pleading look. “Please just take us back to Japan. Please?”
“Okay,” Hiro said, unable to resist when Adam asked like that. The hospital had a landscaped front garden, and he took them into it, abandoned this late at night. Shadowed between a low maple tree and a hedge, they vanished, appearing once again in his apartment in Tokyo.
Hiro looked around, blinking in the sunlight, wondering if he should feel like sleeping or having breakfast right now. He’d been in so many times in such rapid succession he’d completely lost track. The apartment seemed small and dingy, dull and ordinary after where he’d been. It felt like a life that didn’t fit anymore.
Adam dropped onto the couch, scrubbed his hands over his face, and stared up at the ceiling. Hiro sank down beside him, glad when Adam wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close. He rested his cheek on Adam’s shoulder and ran a hand over his chest, more for the familiar warmth and feel of his breathing than as a precursor to anything more.
“So,” Adam said eventually. “Who’s Sylar?”
Hiro flinched, closing his eyes. “He was a villain. And I thought he would destroy the city. I thought he was the bomb.”
“And you killed him,” Adam finished softly.
“To save the world.” Hiro shook his head, one hand fisted in the material of Adam’s shirt. “But I didn’t. Although...” He paused thoughtfully. “I remember, after I stabbed him, Peter was still glowing and he wanted me to stop him, but I thought...” He shook his head, sighing. “I wanted it to be Sylar. I killed him for no reason.”
“You just said he was a villain,” Adam pointed out. “Was he a killer?”
“Yes,” Hiro said. “He killed Charlie. He killed so many, like us, people with powers, so he could steal them.”
“And he would have kept doing it, right?” Adam asked. “He would have killed more.”
Hiro nodded, remembering Charlie and Isaac Mendez, their heads sliced open, everything that made them special and alive and human strewn in a bloody mess on the floor. “I hated him,” he admitted in a whisper. “I wanted him to die.”
Adam stroked his back, his hand leaving streaks of heat on Hiro’s skin, loosening the knot in his chest. “You did the right thing,” Adam said. “He would have killed again. By stopping him, you saved the lives he would have taken.”
Hiro pressed closer, his face hidden in the hollow of Adam’s neck, and he breathed in Adam’s scent until the thick, choked feeling in his throat eased. Adam’s hands ran over him, fingertips in his hair, palm running along the line of his back, a warm hand wrapped around the back of his neck, kneading gently.
Adam kissed his temple, and Hiro lifted his face to be kissed properly, slow, lazy kisses that sent heat curling into his belly. Adam pushed him back on the couch, straddled him, and ran fingertips down his chest. Hiro smiled up at him, squirming a little when Adam unbuttoned his shirt. Adam kissed his chest, feather light touches that left spots of heat, tingling as they cooled.
“Kensei,” Hiro said, deliberately this time, and Adam touched their foreheads together and swallowed, his eyes blinking rapidly, lashes a tickling touch on Hiro’s face.
“Still?” he asked.
“Always,” Hiro replied. He reached up and opened Adam’s shirt, relishing the feel of his skin, the way he leaned into the touch. He kissed up the line of Adam’s chest, feeling every inhale, and kissed his neck until he felt the pulse speed under his lips. Adam made a low, pleased hum and then pulled back, meeting Hiro’s eyes, offering a provocative smile.
“Let me show you,” he said.
“What?”
Adam grinned and slid back, off the couch, until he was on his knees on the floor. Hiro looked at him blankly until Adam’s hands ran up his thighs, then opened his pants, and then he understood all at once. “Oh,” he said, weakly.
“Oh,” Adam agreed, and slid his pants down to his knees. Hiro gripped the couch cushion, his fingers digging into the material, and bit his lip. He opened his eyes when he heard Adam’s soft chuckle.
“What?” he said, a little impatiently.
“I haven’t even started yet, carp,” Adam chided. “Try to breathe.”
Hiro nodded rapidly, forced a slow, deep breath, only to lose it in a rush when Adam mouthed him through his underwear. He could feel the heat of Adam’s breathing, the moisture, the soft shape of his mouth and he moaned, twisting on the couch. Adam pinned his hips down and did it again.
Hiro bucked up into the touch, but Adam just pressed him down again, and Hiro realized that he was actually overpowered, that Adam could hold him down and he could squirm and fight and push back and it wouldn’t change a thing, and heat raced all the way through him, making him shudder.
“Shhh,” Adam said, and carefully pulled him from his underwear, using the barest touch, the pads of his fingers cool against Hiro’s skin. Hiro felt the smooth touch of his lips, the prickling scrape of his chin, and then it was heat and pressure and he cried out, his head thrashing back on the couch.
Adam hummed approvingly, the shiver of it spiking pleasure in the base of Hiro’s spine, and then his hand was there, stroking the inside of his thigh, and higher, with such gentleness, such care that Hiro closed his eyes tight.
Soft kisses on his thigh, and then on the head, around the rim, flicks of his tongue and Hiro wanted to beg, wanted more but couldn’t ask, could never ask. His cheeks burned at the thought of saying it and he bit his lip and whimpered, tugging fretfully at the cushions.
“Impatient?” Adam asked, amusement and arousal doing something to his voice, making it low and sweet and inviting.
“Mmm,” Hiro said, bucking his hips up again. “Please...”
“Please what?” Adam asked, and he kissed again, little, maddening kisses. He curled his hand around the base, stroking the ball of his thumb up and down lightly, not enough to ease the ache pooled low in Hiro’s belly. Another slow, deliberate lick, just below the head, then sucking at the skin there, teasing.
Hiro reached out, pressed at Adam’s head, steering him, but Adam pinned his hand down and took the tip lightly in his mouth, chuckling around it. Hiro whined low in his throat and pushed up, but Adam backed off. Hiro swore in Japanese under his breath.
“Didn’t quite catch that,” Adam said. Hiro opened his eyes and glared at him, and Adam smiled. “Hiro,” he said softly. “Tell me you want it.”
Hiro shook his head, and Adam licked him, starting at the base and going all the way up, like an ice cream cone, over and over. Hiro’s hands were tingling, his fingertips numb, his own breathing echoing in his ears and the licking kept going until all sensation was focused into that one impossibly bright point of light and Hiro couldn’t help it anymore. “Please!” he said. “Please, I want it, I want you to...”
“To what?” Adam asked. “This?” He took Hiro all the way in, and Hiro could feel the sleek pressure at the back of his throat, the pull, the slide of his tongue and he nodded, hips rising, trying to follow Adam’s mouth when it pulled away.
Hiro gave a frustrated moan and when the licking started again he clenched his fists and said in a rush, “All right, yes, that, your mouth please all of it Kensei please I can’t...”
“You only ever had to ask,” Adam said, and then he swallowed Hiro, drawing him in and sliding that slick, talented, perfect mouth over him and Hiro felt the tug of it all the way into his guts, the electricity building in the base of his spine and streaking up and out, until his toes curled up and he cried out and time shuddered to a halt.
Hiro felt Adam lapping at him, so gentle again, and then Adam laid over him on the couch and pulled Hiro close and Hiro could feel him trembling, his whole body angles and muscle and bone, held tightly in check. He reached down and pressed, stroking him through his pants and Adam moaned and bit his shoulder and was coming before Hiro could even get his pants open.
He collapsed on top of Hiro, who shifted until they could lay together, their legs tangled and Adam’s cheek on his chest, his rapid breathing warming Hiro’s skin. Hiro looked at the dust in the beam of sunlight coming through the window, perfectly still, at the flicked edge of a curtain stirred by the wind, frozen in place, and thought he’d keep time stopped forever just to stay right here, right now.
~~~
Adam watched as the tube was threaded into his arm, the brief sting of the needle soon replaced by the cool rush of clear fluid running in. A second tube in his other arm, two bags hanging high over his head, dripping steadily. A clip on his fingertips measured his heartbeat, the beeping a soft, monotonous pattern somewhere to his side. More tubes ran from his wrists, his thigh, from a shunt in his chest, directly over his heart, draining his blood.
“Here we go,” Suresh said beside him, adding another bag of the clear fluid. “Conservation of matter, you know.”
“Can’t let you run out of building blocks,” Bob added, drawing off a syringe of his blood from a collection bag.
A man shuffled forward, leaning heavily on the railing, his skin waxy pale, eyes sunken and dull. Bob injected him with the blood, and he straightened, color blooming on his skin again. He handed Bob a stack of money and walked out the back door, to be replaced by the next one in line.
This one was a woman, covered in terrible sores, blood spotting the gauze bandages on her arms and legs, her thin hospital gown draped over an emaciated frame. One shot of his blood later, and her skin healed, the gauze slipping to the floor in a bloodstained heap, revealing more perfect skin. She kissed Bob’s hand, thanked him, and walked out the back door. Adam watched dully as yet another syringe of his blood was drawn.
Next a small boy, walking with a crutch, one leg thin and twisted, malformed. He met Adam’s eyes as the blood was injected, his expression old and worn for such a young face. Ageless, Adam thought. Like me.
His blood did its work and the leg grew strong and straight. The boy dropped his crutch and bowed to Bob, murmured, “Thank you, my lord,” and ran out the back door, laughing.
Adam dropped his head back on the bed, feeling cold, and when he looked down at himself he could see his skin drawing close to his bones, his ribs standing out in sharp relief, his belly hollow and pinched, the sheet draping him revealing a near skeletal shape beneath. “You have to stop,” he said, barely able to get enough air to speak.
“Just a few more,” Bob said.
Hiro took his hand, Adam’s thin bones disappearing into his touch. “You’re saving the world,” he said, smiling.
“But I can’t,” Adam protested, and the pressure on his chest was unrelenting and he couldn’t breathe and he struggled to sit up, to escape.
“Calm down,” Suresh said, snapping metal bands over his wrists and ankles, shackling him to the bed. “You need your energy.”
Adam closed his eyes, and when he opened them he could see beyond the door, the line of sick and injured and deformed filled the hall, around the corner, into the street. They lined the sidewalks, waited in cars and laid on gurneys in the street, around the buildings, and he went up and up and could see all the city laid out beneath him, all filled with people waiting for his blood, all looking at him with those supplicating eyes, accusing him for his immortality.
“You know you don’t really deserve to live forever,” Hiro murmured in his ear. “Just give it up. Can’t you see they need your help?”
“But there’s too many,” Adam whispered, and he tried to hold on to Hiro, to reach for him but he couldn’t feel his arms anymore. The skin was tight against the bone now, his flesh reduced to mere strings of muscle, and still the blood came, faster than ever.
“How can you deny them?” Bob asked, injecting blood into a toddler whose eyes were missing, covered with scarred, burned skin. The skin healed in moments, revealing bright blue eyes, the child’s mother sobbing her joy, kissing her baby.
Adam tried to speak but couldn’t, could no longer draw breath, his chest hollowed out from within as all the substance and life was sucked from him. He thrashed against the restraints, feeling his fragile bones snap and then slowly, inexorably, start to heal and despite it all he was still awake, aware of everything, and he could never die, it would never end and he somehow found the breath to scream.
He thrashed and fought with the sheet covering him and fell to the floor with a thump, then scrambled to his feet, only to run hard into Hiro.
Adam clutched at him, wrapping his arms around him and pressing his face against Hiro’s shoulder, breathing hard. “What’s wrong?” Hiro asked anxiously. “What is it?”
Adam shook his head and said nothing, grounding himself in the reality of Hiro’s touch. The press of his chest with each breath, the weight of his hand on Adam’s back, the familiar voice in his ear, the smell of his skin-soap and cotton. He felt his pounding heart slow, along with his harsh breathing, and the tremors eased until he was able to lift his head and look around Hiro’s small apartment. They were halfway around the world from Bob and his company and his city, and there was comfort in that.
“Adam?” Hiro said, touching his face, wiping his thumbs beneath Adam’s eyes.
“Let’s go somewhere,” Adam said. “Let’s see the past, the future, anywhere. We’ll go to Egypt and watch the pyramids being built. To Rome, at the height of its empire. To Japan at the birth of the samurai age. Or we can see the future, what the world will be like a hundred years from now.”
Hiro shook his head slowly, frowning. “Why do you want to run?”
“It’s not running,” Adam replied. “It’s exploring. It’s what we could do together, what we could see. Why do you want to stay in one place?”
“My life is here,” Hiro said. “My father, my sister, Ando... my home. And traveling in time is dangerous; we could change the future, or cause a rift.” He tilted his head to the side, watching Adam’s face closely. “You’re afraid. Why? It is more than just a nightmare.”
Adam sighed and pulled away, pacing by the windows. “I know you want to trust Bob, and the company, but I don’t think we can,” he said. “And as long as we are here, in this time, they’ll find us.”
“Running is not the answer,” Hiro said softly.
“So what is?” Adam asked, spreading his hands.
“We should find out what they want. More about the company, and what they’re really doing.”
Adam raised his eyebrows. “You don’t trust them either, do you?”
Hiro sighed, moving to stand beside Adam. “My father is a good man. But that doesn’t mean the people he works with are.”
Adam nodded and looked away, out the windows, but his hand fumbled for Hiro’s and laced their fingers together. “If we go back, you have to stay with me. You can escape from anywhere-I can’t.”
Hiro said nothing, and Adam turned; Hiro looked at him sadly. “You really think I’d leave you with them? I’d let you be taken?”
“If it was for the greater good,” Adam said. “If you had to choose between saving me, and saving the world.”
Hiro shook his head, frowning. “That’s not... it wouldn’t come to that.”
“And if it did?”
Hiro put his arm around Adam’s waist and kissed his shoulder, and didn’t answer.
~~~
Angsty bits, I know; I just can't resist. Thank you for reading!
Chapter Six
By kalimyre
Pairing: Kensei/Hiro, Adam/Hiro
Rating: Adult
Summary: In which the fairy tale does have a happy ending, but not the one you were expecting.
Notes: As always, thank you to my fabulous betas: powered_otaku and soulpeddler.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
~~~
Part 5
Hiro was still half asleep, and more than a little dazed at Adam’s creative way of waking him, so they were out the door and in the back of a long, sleek car before he was quite sure what was happening. The interior smelled of leather and cigarette smoke, and he and Adam sat on one bench seat together, shoulders bumping companionably. Bob sat across from them, an expression of fixed politeness on his face, hands folded neatly together over one knee.
Adam seemed intent on staring him down, and Bob just smiled calmly and looked utterly unruffled, and Hiro thought if they sat in uncomfortable silence much longer he was going to start babbling out of sheer nerves. All he could think was this man had seen them, this man had seen Adam kissing him. This man knew about them, and he knew Suresh, and he almost certainly knew Hiro’s father. And he was going to tell his father. And then all life on Earth would come to a horrible crashing halt.
Hiro swallowed hard and pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Are you...?” And how was he going to finish that question? There was no good way to ask a random stranger if he planned to out you to your very forbidding, traditional, and frighteningly good with a sword father.
“Yes?” Bob asked, leaning forward a little. “Am I what?”
“Where are we going?” Hiro asked instead.
“To the hospital,” Bob replied. “The son of an old friend was injured, and I’d like to help him.”
“By using me,” Adam said flatly.
“By using a little of your blood,” Bob corrected. “It’s not as if you can’t spare it. The Company will be very grateful for your help and I can assure you, we are quite generous with our thanks.”
Adam narrowed his eyes and said nothing, and Hiro looked anxiously between them. “What about your blood?” Hiro asked Adam, switching to Japanese. Although judging by the small curl of a smile on Bob’s face, he already spoke the language.
“Apparently it cures all ills,” Adam replied in kind. “The good doctor was quite excited about it, anyway.”
“Oh,” Hiro said, not sure what to make of that. Good that they could help someone, of course, but it was Adam’s blood. It didn’t seem fair that they got to decide who to give it to without even asking him.
The car hummed along in silence for a while, Adam watching the city flow by outside the window and Hiro trying to remember every time he’d ever stood up to his father and won. It was a disappointingly short list. There was the time when he was fourteen that he had kept his comic book collection, even after his father insisted it be thrown out (by pretending to concede, then hiding it all at Ando’s house), and the time he had refused to return and be an executive in his company (by proving that he’d be terrible at it and his sister was far better for the job) and... and that was about it.
Hiro sighed and slumped in the seat. Beside him, Adam remained upright and tense, and didn’t notice.
When they pulled up to hospital it was late, the sun long since set, but the hospital continued to hum with activity. They went through big double doors into a bright white room, the fluorescent glare making Hiro wince and rub the bridge of his nose. He trailed along after Adam and Bob, watching Adam’s expression grow more alarmed as they went past door after door, every one with a bed and a patient.
“So many sick,” Adam murmured, and cast a wary glance at Bob.
Hiro frowned, confused, and touched Adam’s arm. “What’s wrong?”
“Never mind,” Adam said quickly.
“Right in here,” Bob said, pushing into a quieter hallway. The lights were low here, the doors closed, patients sleeping within. A woman at a nurse’s station halfway down the hall looked up, met his eyes, nodded and went back to her paperwork. Their footsteps echoed down the hallway, the smooth click of Bob’s dress shoes and the soft tread of Adam’s sneakers, whisper quiet. Hiro felt the hair on the back of his neck rise into points of prickling cold, and he shivered, walking a little faster.
Bob paused in front of one of the doors, regarding them both steadily. “He’ll be sleeping,” he said in a hushed voice. “Don’t wake him.”
Then he opened the door, and they stepped in, the door shutting with a soft click behind them. At first the man in the bed was just a shape beneath the pristine white sheets, but as they drew closer, Hiro could see the layers of gauze, and the terribly burned skin. He bit his tongue to keep quiet.
Bob flicked on a lamp by the bed, throwing the man’s face into sharp relief. Half of it was red and scarred, puffed into thick tissue, leaving his eye little more than an indentation in the face, but the other side was untouched, was healthy, was familiar.
“Flying man?” Hiro said, his voice coming out paper thin.
“Nathan Petrelli,” Bob said. “His mother is a close friend, of myself and of the company. As soon as I heard what you can do,” he added to Adam, “I thought of him.”
“How did this happen?” Hiro asked, taking a cautious step forward. The man in the bed didn’t stir, the monitor beside him beeping steadily, quietly to itself. Clear fluid dripped into a tube running into his arm, and of course, Hiro thought. Of course he must have medicine. Of course he must be in terrible pain. Hiro closed his eyes for a long moment, his mouth wavering crookedly.
“Peter,” Bob said simply. “He couldn’t stop it.”
“Peter Petrelli?” Hiro asked. “Stop what?”
“The explosion, of course,” Bob said. “Peter couldn’t stop the chain reaction. If Nathan hadn’t taken him high into the atmosphere, he would have destroyed half the city.”
Hiro shook his head, backing away until his shoulders hit the wall. “No, Sylar was the bomb. I killed him. I stopped it.”
“I’m afraid not,” Bob replied. “Sylar was a threat, of course. Don’t think we don’t appreciate the favor you did us, taking him out of the picture. But it was Peter who was the real danger all along.”
Hiro closed his eyes. He could feel the sword in his hands again, the slide of it, the way Sylar’s breath had caught in a shocked wheeze, the thick copper-salt smell of the blood. And if he’d killed and he didn’t have to, if he’d killed for anger, for revenge for Charlie, for anything but saving lives...
“Hiro,” Adam said beside him, his hands on Hiro’s shoulders. “Breathe.”
Hiro obeyed, forcing the deep, steady breaths until his legs stopped feeling like rubber and his head cleared. When he opened his eyes, Adam was watching him with concern, questions writ large on his face, but Hiro shook his head. This was not the time.
“Please save Nathan,” he said, jerking his chin toward the man on the bed. “Make him better.”
Adam frowned but did as he was asked, moving to Nathan’s side. He looked uncertainly at the IV line, and Bob stepped up, taking a syringe off the table. “Let me,” he said, and Adam extended his arm.
The blood draw was quick, and Bob injected it into the IV bag, the swirl of red clouding the clear fluid and running down the tube. They stood around the bed, watching, and Hiro touched Adam’s hand, startled when Adam immediately grasped at fingers, squeezing tight. Hiro looked at him, at the tight line of his jaw, the line between his eyebrows, and thought, he’s afraid.
That it wouldn’t work? Or that it would?
“There,” Bob said softly. Hiro watched as the burned skin thinned, then faded, healthy skin revealed beneath it, spreading fast. Soon Nathan’s face was whole again, smooth and clean, his eyes still closed in sleep. The monitor beeped on the same as before, the gauze wrap lying limp over healed skin, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath the pristine white sheet.
“He never even woke up,” Adam said.
“Morphine,” Bob said. “We should go.”
“You’re just going to leave him like that?” Adam asked.
“Like what?”
“You don’t think he’ll wonder what happened?”
Bob smiled. “Nathan knows the company would do a lot for him. He knows we have... unique resources. He’ll understand.”
“Will he,” Adam said flatly. “And what will the company expect in return?”
“We don’t want to be in here when the nurse comes to check on him,” Bob said, leading them toward the door. “That will only lead to difficult questions.”
“And clearly you don’t like difficult questions,” Adam muttered, but he followed, Hiro beside him.
“You did a good thing,” Hiro said softly. “You healed him.”
Adam nodded, but his mouth was a thin line, his eyes distant.
Bob led them back out of the hospital, and the car was there waiting for them. Adam balked at the door, one hand on Hiro’s arm. “We’ll get home from here,” he said.
“It would really be better if you stayed in the city,” Bob said. “You have important work with Dr. Suresh. We have a place ready for you.”
“No,” Adam said. “Thanks. We’ll pass.”
Hiro thought of his dusty apartment, full of spoiled food, and then of what kind of place someone like Bob could get them in New York. “Maybe we should...” he started.
“No,” Adam said again, giving Hiro a hard look. “We’re going home.”
Bob considered, then said, “I trust you’ll be returning in the morning. Thank you for your help today Adam, Hiro.” He nodded at them, then slipped into the car.
Hiro watched as it pulled away, a little disappointed. “Why couldn’t we stay in New York?” he asked.
“I don’t want to be right under their thumbs,” Adam said. “Where they can watch, where they can find us any time they want.”
Hiro frowned. “Adam... they’re friends of my father. They helped Nathan.”
“For altruistic reasons, I’m sure,” Adam muttered. He turned to Hiro, cupping a hand on the back of his neck, and gave him a pleading look. “Please just take us back to Japan. Please?”
“Okay,” Hiro said, unable to resist when Adam asked like that. The hospital had a landscaped front garden, and he took them into it, abandoned this late at night. Shadowed between a low maple tree and a hedge, they vanished, appearing once again in his apartment in Tokyo.
Hiro looked around, blinking in the sunlight, wondering if he should feel like sleeping or having breakfast right now. He’d been in so many times in such rapid succession he’d completely lost track. The apartment seemed small and dingy, dull and ordinary after where he’d been. It felt like a life that didn’t fit anymore.
Adam dropped onto the couch, scrubbed his hands over his face, and stared up at the ceiling. Hiro sank down beside him, glad when Adam wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close. He rested his cheek on Adam’s shoulder and ran a hand over his chest, more for the familiar warmth and feel of his breathing than as a precursor to anything more.
“So,” Adam said eventually. “Who’s Sylar?”
Hiro flinched, closing his eyes. “He was a villain. And I thought he would destroy the city. I thought he was the bomb.”
“And you killed him,” Adam finished softly.
“To save the world.” Hiro shook his head, one hand fisted in the material of Adam’s shirt. “But I didn’t. Although...” He paused thoughtfully. “I remember, after I stabbed him, Peter was still glowing and he wanted me to stop him, but I thought...” He shook his head, sighing. “I wanted it to be Sylar. I killed him for no reason.”
“You just said he was a villain,” Adam pointed out. “Was he a killer?”
“Yes,” Hiro said. “He killed Charlie. He killed so many, like us, people with powers, so he could steal them.”
“And he would have kept doing it, right?” Adam asked. “He would have killed more.”
Hiro nodded, remembering Charlie and Isaac Mendez, their heads sliced open, everything that made them special and alive and human strewn in a bloody mess on the floor. “I hated him,” he admitted in a whisper. “I wanted him to die.”
Adam stroked his back, his hand leaving streaks of heat on Hiro’s skin, loosening the knot in his chest. “You did the right thing,” Adam said. “He would have killed again. By stopping him, you saved the lives he would have taken.”
Hiro pressed closer, his face hidden in the hollow of Adam’s neck, and he breathed in Adam’s scent until the thick, choked feeling in his throat eased. Adam’s hands ran over him, fingertips in his hair, palm running along the line of his back, a warm hand wrapped around the back of his neck, kneading gently.
Adam kissed his temple, and Hiro lifted his face to be kissed properly, slow, lazy kisses that sent heat curling into his belly. Adam pushed him back on the couch, straddled him, and ran fingertips down his chest. Hiro smiled up at him, squirming a little when Adam unbuttoned his shirt. Adam kissed his chest, feather light touches that left spots of heat, tingling as they cooled.
“Kensei,” Hiro said, deliberately this time, and Adam touched their foreheads together and swallowed, his eyes blinking rapidly, lashes a tickling touch on Hiro’s face.
“Still?” he asked.
“Always,” Hiro replied. He reached up and opened Adam’s shirt, relishing the feel of his skin, the way he leaned into the touch. He kissed up the line of Adam’s chest, feeling every inhale, and kissed his neck until he felt the pulse speed under his lips. Adam made a low, pleased hum and then pulled back, meeting Hiro’s eyes, offering a provocative smile.
“Let me show you,” he said.
“What?”
Adam grinned and slid back, off the couch, until he was on his knees on the floor. Hiro looked at him blankly until Adam’s hands ran up his thighs, then opened his pants, and then he understood all at once. “Oh,” he said, weakly.
“Oh,” Adam agreed, and slid his pants down to his knees. Hiro gripped the couch cushion, his fingers digging into the material, and bit his lip. He opened his eyes when he heard Adam’s soft chuckle.
“What?” he said, a little impatiently.
“I haven’t even started yet, carp,” Adam chided. “Try to breathe.”
Hiro nodded rapidly, forced a slow, deep breath, only to lose it in a rush when Adam mouthed him through his underwear. He could feel the heat of Adam’s breathing, the moisture, the soft shape of his mouth and he moaned, twisting on the couch. Adam pinned his hips down and did it again.
Hiro bucked up into the touch, but Adam just pressed him down again, and Hiro realized that he was actually overpowered, that Adam could hold him down and he could squirm and fight and push back and it wouldn’t change a thing, and heat raced all the way through him, making him shudder.
“Shhh,” Adam said, and carefully pulled him from his underwear, using the barest touch, the pads of his fingers cool against Hiro’s skin. Hiro felt the smooth touch of his lips, the prickling scrape of his chin, and then it was heat and pressure and he cried out, his head thrashing back on the couch.
Adam hummed approvingly, the shiver of it spiking pleasure in the base of Hiro’s spine, and then his hand was there, stroking the inside of his thigh, and higher, with such gentleness, such care that Hiro closed his eyes tight.
Soft kisses on his thigh, and then on the head, around the rim, flicks of his tongue and Hiro wanted to beg, wanted more but couldn’t ask, could never ask. His cheeks burned at the thought of saying it and he bit his lip and whimpered, tugging fretfully at the cushions.
“Impatient?” Adam asked, amusement and arousal doing something to his voice, making it low and sweet and inviting.
“Mmm,” Hiro said, bucking his hips up again. “Please...”
“Please what?” Adam asked, and he kissed again, little, maddening kisses. He curled his hand around the base, stroking the ball of his thumb up and down lightly, not enough to ease the ache pooled low in Hiro’s belly. Another slow, deliberate lick, just below the head, then sucking at the skin there, teasing.
Hiro reached out, pressed at Adam’s head, steering him, but Adam pinned his hand down and took the tip lightly in his mouth, chuckling around it. Hiro whined low in his throat and pushed up, but Adam backed off. Hiro swore in Japanese under his breath.
“Didn’t quite catch that,” Adam said. Hiro opened his eyes and glared at him, and Adam smiled. “Hiro,” he said softly. “Tell me you want it.”
Hiro shook his head, and Adam licked him, starting at the base and going all the way up, like an ice cream cone, over and over. Hiro’s hands were tingling, his fingertips numb, his own breathing echoing in his ears and the licking kept going until all sensation was focused into that one impossibly bright point of light and Hiro couldn’t help it anymore. “Please!” he said. “Please, I want it, I want you to...”
“To what?” Adam asked. “This?” He took Hiro all the way in, and Hiro could feel the sleek pressure at the back of his throat, the pull, the slide of his tongue and he nodded, hips rising, trying to follow Adam’s mouth when it pulled away.
Hiro gave a frustrated moan and when the licking started again he clenched his fists and said in a rush, “All right, yes, that, your mouth please all of it Kensei please I can’t...”
“You only ever had to ask,” Adam said, and then he swallowed Hiro, drawing him in and sliding that slick, talented, perfect mouth over him and Hiro felt the tug of it all the way into his guts, the electricity building in the base of his spine and streaking up and out, until his toes curled up and he cried out and time shuddered to a halt.
Hiro felt Adam lapping at him, so gentle again, and then Adam laid over him on the couch and pulled Hiro close and Hiro could feel him trembling, his whole body angles and muscle and bone, held tightly in check. He reached down and pressed, stroking him through his pants and Adam moaned and bit his shoulder and was coming before Hiro could even get his pants open.
He collapsed on top of Hiro, who shifted until they could lay together, their legs tangled and Adam’s cheek on his chest, his rapid breathing warming Hiro’s skin. Hiro looked at the dust in the beam of sunlight coming through the window, perfectly still, at the flicked edge of a curtain stirred by the wind, frozen in place, and thought he’d keep time stopped forever just to stay right here, right now.
~~~
Adam watched as the tube was threaded into his arm, the brief sting of the needle soon replaced by the cool rush of clear fluid running in. A second tube in his other arm, two bags hanging high over his head, dripping steadily. A clip on his fingertips measured his heartbeat, the beeping a soft, monotonous pattern somewhere to his side. More tubes ran from his wrists, his thigh, from a shunt in his chest, directly over his heart, draining his blood.
“Here we go,” Suresh said beside him, adding another bag of the clear fluid. “Conservation of matter, you know.”
“Can’t let you run out of building blocks,” Bob added, drawing off a syringe of his blood from a collection bag.
A man shuffled forward, leaning heavily on the railing, his skin waxy pale, eyes sunken and dull. Bob injected him with the blood, and he straightened, color blooming on his skin again. He handed Bob a stack of money and walked out the back door, to be replaced by the next one in line.
This one was a woman, covered in terrible sores, blood spotting the gauze bandages on her arms and legs, her thin hospital gown draped over an emaciated frame. One shot of his blood later, and her skin healed, the gauze slipping to the floor in a bloodstained heap, revealing more perfect skin. She kissed Bob’s hand, thanked him, and walked out the back door. Adam watched dully as yet another syringe of his blood was drawn.
Next a small boy, walking with a crutch, one leg thin and twisted, malformed. He met Adam’s eyes as the blood was injected, his expression old and worn for such a young face. Ageless, Adam thought. Like me.
His blood did its work and the leg grew strong and straight. The boy dropped his crutch and bowed to Bob, murmured, “Thank you, my lord,” and ran out the back door, laughing.
Adam dropped his head back on the bed, feeling cold, and when he looked down at himself he could see his skin drawing close to his bones, his ribs standing out in sharp relief, his belly hollow and pinched, the sheet draping him revealing a near skeletal shape beneath. “You have to stop,” he said, barely able to get enough air to speak.
“Just a few more,” Bob said.
Hiro took his hand, Adam’s thin bones disappearing into his touch. “You’re saving the world,” he said, smiling.
“But I can’t,” Adam protested, and the pressure on his chest was unrelenting and he couldn’t breathe and he struggled to sit up, to escape.
“Calm down,” Suresh said, snapping metal bands over his wrists and ankles, shackling him to the bed. “You need your energy.”
Adam closed his eyes, and when he opened them he could see beyond the door, the line of sick and injured and deformed filled the hall, around the corner, into the street. They lined the sidewalks, waited in cars and laid on gurneys in the street, around the buildings, and he went up and up and could see all the city laid out beneath him, all filled with people waiting for his blood, all looking at him with those supplicating eyes, accusing him for his immortality.
“You know you don’t really deserve to live forever,” Hiro murmured in his ear. “Just give it up. Can’t you see they need your help?”
“But there’s too many,” Adam whispered, and he tried to hold on to Hiro, to reach for him but he couldn’t feel his arms anymore. The skin was tight against the bone now, his flesh reduced to mere strings of muscle, and still the blood came, faster than ever.
“How can you deny them?” Bob asked, injecting blood into a toddler whose eyes were missing, covered with scarred, burned skin. The skin healed in moments, revealing bright blue eyes, the child’s mother sobbing her joy, kissing her baby.
Adam tried to speak but couldn’t, could no longer draw breath, his chest hollowed out from within as all the substance and life was sucked from him. He thrashed against the restraints, feeling his fragile bones snap and then slowly, inexorably, start to heal and despite it all he was still awake, aware of everything, and he could never die, it would never end and he somehow found the breath to scream.
He thrashed and fought with the sheet covering him and fell to the floor with a thump, then scrambled to his feet, only to run hard into Hiro.
Adam clutched at him, wrapping his arms around him and pressing his face against Hiro’s shoulder, breathing hard. “What’s wrong?” Hiro asked anxiously. “What is it?”
Adam shook his head and said nothing, grounding himself in the reality of Hiro’s touch. The press of his chest with each breath, the weight of his hand on Adam’s back, the familiar voice in his ear, the smell of his skin-soap and cotton. He felt his pounding heart slow, along with his harsh breathing, and the tremors eased until he was able to lift his head and look around Hiro’s small apartment. They were halfway around the world from Bob and his company and his city, and there was comfort in that.
“Adam?” Hiro said, touching his face, wiping his thumbs beneath Adam’s eyes.
“Let’s go somewhere,” Adam said. “Let’s see the past, the future, anywhere. We’ll go to Egypt and watch the pyramids being built. To Rome, at the height of its empire. To Japan at the birth of the samurai age. Or we can see the future, what the world will be like a hundred years from now.”
Hiro shook his head slowly, frowning. “Why do you want to run?”
“It’s not running,” Adam replied. “It’s exploring. It’s what we could do together, what we could see. Why do you want to stay in one place?”
“My life is here,” Hiro said. “My father, my sister, Ando... my home. And traveling in time is dangerous; we could change the future, or cause a rift.” He tilted his head to the side, watching Adam’s face closely. “You’re afraid. Why? It is more than just a nightmare.”
Adam sighed and pulled away, pacing by the windows. “I know you want to trust Bob, and the company, but I don’t think we can,” he said. “And as long as we are here, in this time, they’ll find us.”
“Running is not the answer,” Hiro said softly.
“So what is?” Adam asked, spreading his hands.
“We should find out what they want. More about the company, and what they’re really doing.”
Adam raised his eyebrows. “You don’t trust them either, do you?”
Hiro sighed, moving to stand beside Adam. “My father is a good man. But that doesn’t mean the people he works with are.”
Adam nodded and looked away, out the windows, but his hand fumbled for Hiro’s and laced their fingers together. “If we go back, you have to stay with me. You can escape from anywhere-I can’t.”
Hiro said nothing, and Adam turned; Hiro looked at him sadly. “You really think I’d leave you with them? I’d let you be taken?”
“If it was for the greater good,” Adam said. “If you had to choose between saving me, and saving the world.”
Hiro shook his head, frowning. “That’s not... it wouldn’t come to that.”
“And if it did?”
Hiro put his arm around Adam’s waist and kissed his shoulder, and didn’t answer.
~~~
Angsty bits, I know; I just can't resist. Thank you for reading!
Chapter Six