A Long Trip Home

[chimeramimicry]

The door is two yards away but I can't move from the top of the stairs.  It's been months, four or so, since I've been here, in this spot.  Gone were the days of trudging up the stairs with my satchel on the way home from work because my building's landlords refused to fix the elevators properly.  Gone too was the pleasure I had of returning to this apartment I paid for with my own money and not from my trust fund.  I donated all of that to charity the moment I turned twenty-five and finished paying off my loans to school.  It was two years ago.  It feels like forever.

I'm not the same man I had been.  I'm not a child anymore.  At least, I want to think that.

I'm still clutching the photograph of my brother and I in our tuxedos.  There's a smudge on it from my thumb and full of creases.  I've not let it go since I opened that box containing everything that I am.  Everything I was.  I left Ireland without looking back.  There was, there is only one thing on my mind.  Nathan.

Nathan.

Nathan.

I know he's here.  I've always felt a connection to him.  Mohinder Suresh called it part of my empathy, to feel things like that.  Funny to be so empathically linked to someone I spent my whole life pining for, who has always had a life to live without me.  He's never had time for me.  Never.

"Just walk, Peter," I whisper to myself as I move to a door I have not touched in a long time.  I swallow.  And knock.  I know he's in here without knowing it.  I almost lose the nerve to knock.  Please answer, Nathan.  Please.

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[crashgirl82.livejournal.com]

I see the turnaround in those beautiful dark eyes, and I know he's made his mind up. He isn't really asking me if I want to. He's telling me he wants to.

I give him a slight nod, the reassurance I know Peter needs from me right now. I take his hand, the one that's caressing my face, and I kiss his wrist. I push his hands down away from me, and then lace my fingers into his, lead him to his bed, each step we take bringing us closer to a place where brothers should never be.

The ironic thing about all of this is that we've traded places. Peter no longer seems afraid, and I can feel panic rising in me, a tidal wave threatening to swallow me. There's no way I'm letting him know that, of course.

My brother's never done this before. I don't need him to tell me that. I just know.

I have to be gentle and careful. I don't want this to hurt him in any way, not emotionally, not physically.

Peter seems to know what I want him to do; we haven't spoken at all since he asked his question.

I push him down on his stomach, and I just run my hands over his body, to relieve some of the tension I know he's feeling. I press my fingers into the muscles of his shoulders and back, slowly descending to massage the base of his spine, and finally, I cup my hands around his buttocks, just briefly.

I work my way up his body and back again, memorizing every birthmark on his skin, every curve of the muscles beneath, trying to get the courage to take the next step.

Christ, we don't have anything. We're in Peter's apartment; there's no reason for him to have anything for that type of use here. I'm probably going to have to improvise.

"You okay?" I ask, while I work the last of the tightness from Peter's body.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

I'm almost asleep. Considering how worked up I was only a few moments ago, I really can't believe just how relaxed he's made my feel. I groan, but it's not in pain, lifting my head to gaze over my shoulder at him through half lidded eyes. I want to say that i feel perfect, but that's more of his line. I know I'm nothing like being perfect. I might have powers, amazing abilities, but they are nothing compared to what I want to share with Nathan.

So, instead, I simply nod, smiling. My head hurts from the tears. From everything I've been through this afternoon.

It's absolutely ridiculous how young he's making me feel. I'm twenty-seven years old, not a child anymore, but that's what I feel right now. Nathan can care for me. Finally. It's what I've always wanted.

"Are...are you all right, Nathan?"

I can't believe where his hands have been today. I can't believe what I've survived for all of these years without. I want to kiss him. Badly. Is that a terrible thing?