After the Werewolves

[chimeramimicry]

"After the Werewolves"
Who:  Peter Petrelli & Jack Harkness (Torchwood)


Jack had left him panting.  Where did that kiss come from?  He'd been almost mauled the moment he stepped out of the elevator, shoved back against the wall...  Oh, not that Peter minded.  No.  He loved the way that Jack kissed him, he loved the extreme force behind it.  Peter had been shocked for a moment, but gave right into it, panting, groaning, pulling at that leather jacket.

The bruises that kiss caused healed in moments when Jack pulled away again.  Peter gazed up at him with such dark eyes as Jack swallowed and stepped away from him.  They didn't speak.  Didn't Jack have that other guy he was interested in?  Where did that come from.

"Oh God," he breathed, pressing his face into his hands to calm himself and his heart...  To still his erection.  "Oh God."

He stumbled towards the front door to the apartment he shared with his brother and left himself inside.  He was bloody, as he said he'd been.  Fighting werewolves would do that to you.

"Nathan?"

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[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

Nathan took a shaky breath as he approached Peter again. God, he hated when Peter cried. He hated it even more when he ws the one who caused it.

Why the fuck did I tell him that? he agonized, suddenly sobered now by the immensity of his revelation. He'd just told his little brother he wanted to fuck him. That was just...inexcusable. And why? Because he was feeling spiteful? "Christ, Peter," Nathan started, setting his hands on Peter's shoulders carefully, not sure what Peter might do if he touched him, now that he'd gotten a glimpse of how absolutely twisted his older brother really was.

No, he hadn't asked Peter how he felt about any of this. He had just taken what he wanted, and Peter had fought him. The first time, that was. Who was the guilty one now?

These weren't just those tears that came out when Peter was frustrated, or sad, either. He was either disgusted, scared, or on the verge of hysteria.

He wondered ridiculously, in the midst of all this, if because of Peter's empathy, Nathan's emotions affected Peter's feelings directly. If he calmed down, maybe Peter would follow suit.

"I don't know how you should take it, Pete. Why don't you just...tell me. Tell me what you want." Even while he said the words, he feared it was a little too late.

[valiantchained.livejournal.com]

Jack had gone downstairs, pulled a bottle of bourbon out of the cabinet, and drank down half of it, thinking of Peter, and of Ianto. The Welshman had mysteriously disappeared again, without a trace. He'd pushed it off, assumed that Ianto needed space, especially with the coming werewolf take-down, but when he returned, he'd expected Ianto to be there, waiting and ready to make sure everyone was alright.

But he hadn't. Jack's stomach tied in knots, and he'd rather lost control of his hormones, furiously snogging Peter in the lift. He couldn't help it; the American was absolutely delicious with his dark hair and big eyes, and Jack was always energized after missions. Luckily, he'd controlled himself long enough for Peter to escape into his flat.

He stared at the empty bottle, his body more than pleasantly drunk, and his head humming with discontent.

Why had Ianto left? Was it him? Was he that fucking damaged that even Ianto couldn't stand to be around him? That's what he got, he supposed, for trying to be a person he wasn't. For trying to change himself.

He thought of Peter, upstairs, probably alone. They never finished their altercations. There was plenty of snogging, but neither of them ever got a release. He wanted to change that...

And even if Peter wasn't into anything sexual tonight, at least he'd have someone to talk to. He didn't want to be alone tonight. He'd died and risen again, and his mind was constantly thinking of his time on the Valiant. He couldn't rid himself of those memories.

With that in mind, he took the lift back upstairs, and knocked on the door to Peter's flat.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

"I don't know," Peter whispered, bowing his head as he left one hand rest on the edge of the sink. He couldn't bring himself to look at Nathan. He couldn't lift his face towards him. He couldn't breathe. What was he suppose to say past that? He was new to this. It was unspeakably wrong. He enjoyed his two sexual experiences with Nathan for the most part, but anything more than that made him feel ill.

He had no one to talk to now. No one to listen to his trouble with Nathan. No one to guide him.

"I want--"

The knock on the door startled him and he shook Nathan off to turn away. He ran the water in the sink and dabbed at his eyes with the L-bend of his hand, trying to steady his breathing. Great. Maybe it was that person Nathan had sex with while thinking about him.

Shut up, Petrelli.

It was a bad sign when he spoke to himself, even in his own head.

Peter wiped a hand down his face, unsure if he was glad for the interruption or not.

[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

"God damn it!" Nathan sighed. He'd actually attempted to find out what was actually going on inside Peter's head, and someone was at his door. Who the hell could it be? Ianto? Jack, his boss? Couldn't they just pick up a phone?

Nathan rubbed Peter's shoulders soothingly. "I'll be right back, Pete."

He opened the door--and none other than Jack Harkness stood before him, looking just about as drunk as Nathan felt.

"You fucking son of a bitch."

The reaction was swift and immediate.

Nathan's arm came up, almost completely under its own volition, and his fist slammed right into Jack's jaw, sending a shock of pain up Nathan's arm and into his shoulder, both numbing and incredibly satisfying.

For just a moment, Nathan really hoped it wasn't his own boss stumbling back to the other side of the hallway. No...he had on the same clothes as the one with his filthy mouth and hands all over Peter not more than half an hour ago.

Jack was still standing there? Not in front of his fucking apartment, he wouldn't be.

Nathan lunged forward, his jealousy and his alcohol-fueled anger readying him for another swing.

[valiantchained.livejournal.com]

Jack had been in plenty of bar brawls. The fact was, he'd spent most of the late 1880s drunk and in pubs, getting the shit kicked out of him on a fairly regularly basis. So when Nathan punched him, he automatically steeled himself for the blow.

Despite that, it did hurt.

He stumbled back, holding his perfectly formed jaw, feeling the pain radiating across it. He tasted blood in his mouth from where his teeth cut into his lips. He licked his lips, cleaning out some of the bloody. His body was fairly numb from the alcohol, but now he was pissed in more than one meaning of the word.

Ianto had left him, and this man had the fucking audacity to punch him. He could only assume Peter had mentioned their session in the lift, and his brother felt the need to defend his honor.

When Nathan came in for a second swing, Jack's instincts kicked in, and he ducked, slamming his fist into Nathan's stomach. "Calm the fuck down!" he said, his voice taking on that tone he rarely used anymore. Ianto referred to it as his Captain's voice. "Nothing happened."

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

You fucking son of a bitch. This was going to end up a mess. He paused, listening for the sound of blows, and rolled his eyes. Brilliant. "Nathan!" Not all that long ago, Jack found Nathan and Peter beating the shit out of each other. The players had traded places now, but the scenario was the same. "Stop it!"

He had just said he'd punch Jack if he saw him again. Evidently he wasn't bluffing.

This is very fucking mature! Peter thought as he slipped his hands into his hair. "Damn it, stop!"

He could make them stop--

But maybe they needed a good brawl. Maybe Peter'd join in. Or maybe he'd just slam the door and let the assholes duke it out.

No, he couldn't do that.

"This is ridiculous! Stop it!"

[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

Nathan staggered back, the punch to his stomach completely unexpected and almost debilitating. His next breath came in a gasp, and thanks to the adrenaline and the numbing effects of the alcohol, he recovered pretty quickly.

He pulled Jack into the apartment by the collar of his coat and slammed him up into the wall. "Nothing happened? I saw what happened! You had your goddamn tongue halfway down my brother's throat! What, did he need some of that 51st-century CPR again? Keep your fucking hands off him!"

He gripped Jack's collar for leverage and pushed himself back, ready to throw another punch. He could just vaguely hear Peter calling out to them and yelling at them to stop, over the blood rushing in his ears, the rage that nearly consumed him.

[valiantchained.livejournal.com]

"Your brother is an adult," Jack pointed out, his voice calm, even though his hands were shaking. He was trying desperately not to lash out at Nathan again. He understood why the other man was angry; Peter was his brother. There was more to it than that as well. He remembered the younger man telling him about his confusion with his brother.

"He can choose whether or not he wants me without your consent," he said, realizing that probably wasn't what Nathan wanted to hear, but he was too intoxicated to give a damn. He could feel the blood pounding in his ears; Jack did not like to be manhandled...well, only under special circumstances.

He glanced at Peter, blue eyes full of conflicting emotions: sadness, lust, anger, all combined in a haze of deep, piercing blue. He wanted the younger man, yes, but he also just wanted someone to talk to...someone who didn't know who he used to be.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

There he went, right off the deep end. Peter could see him make the swan dive and in his head, a little comic-version of himself was giving his brother a perfect 10 in form and posture. "Will you fucking stop already!?" Peter was going to have to get more hands on than he originally wanted to, even though whatever cologne Jack was wearing was starting to really get to him. His tongue actually itched, his lips tingled--

Another time. He could think of it later when his brother's white couch wasn't on the verge of being ruined.

"I'm right here! I'm twenty-seven years old and like I said before, Nathan, I'm not your damned wife!"

Before another punch could be thrown, Peter threw himself between the other two.

[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

Nathan dropped his hands to his sides and sighed. Peter always liked to get in the middle of things, figuratively and literally. But it made sense, of course; he was the prize, and both Nathan and Jack wanted to win him. Or something to that effect.

But there was a difference here. Nathan loved him. Jack...who knew what his intentions were? His own boss was engaged for Christ's sake, and he flirted shamelessly. Nathan, who had acted that way himself even when he was married, knew what that usually meant.

"I never said you were, Peter. Now you have a choice to make," Nathan said, his voice lowering, trying to calm down. "You can move out of my way so I can escort Mr. Harkness right the fuck out of here, or I can move you myself. Whichever you choose is fine with me."