It's Not Suicide If It Doesn't Stick

[chimeramimicry]

"It's Not Suicide If It Doesn't Stick"
Who: Peter, Peter, Nathan
When: The younger Peter believes his older self is dead.


I didn't really know him.  Except I did.  He's me.  Or was me.  I can't help how losing him makes me feel.

Sylar's gone.  Smashed up.  Mohinder really came through there and together, we managed to get the other me out of the apartment and int othe back of his cab.  I don't really know where to take him except--  I give Mohinder my address and somehow we get him upstairs before anyone notices something weird and we have to play Weekend at Bernie's.

Not sure how I'd handle puppetting a dead me, honestly.

Mohinder leaves, scarred and confused and Peter's bleeding on my couch.  I think about calling Nathan, but I can't.  No one can ever know the way I'm going to eventually go.

Comments

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

I regained consciousness in the back of a car, with my head on my other self's lap, but passed out again from pain once I felt myself being dragged into an elevator. My elevator. Well, his.

I'm just playing dead for as long as I can possibly hold it back.

I hear nothing except for Mohinder mumbling a few awkward words and showing himself out. Nathan's not here, and he needs to stay away for as long as it takes to clean up this mess I'm no doubt making all over my crappy couch. His couch. Whatever.

There's nothing I want more than to sit up and wrench this piece of glass out of my chest. It hurts, a lot. I think it's safe now. The piece of glass clatters to the glass coffee table, and I take in my first real breath without pain.

"Sorry about the couch," I say sheepishly, wiping my hands on my jeans.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

"Oh dear God!" I bang my elbow on my way over the arm rest. Seriously, I can't just come to life like that! It's freaking me out! I guess I should be happy, hug him and all that, but I'm scared and I'm furious and I'm going to kick his ass.

Not much good that'll do.

"You can't just die and come back to life because you feel like it!" Maybe I'm a little hysterical, but can you blame me? Seriously?

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

A shrill, nervous laugh escapes me, because I'm still kind of lightheaded from the blood loss. Or maybe it's just because of the significance of what I've finally accomplished, after all this time of trying.

"You just don't get it, do you? I didn't do it because I felt like it. I died so you wouldn't have to. That was supposed to be you. I changed everything. I-- "

I'm probably not making much sense right now, and he's looking at me like I'm crazy. It's all right, I'm used to it.

I need a moment to gather my thoughts, and in the meanwhile, I just throw my arms around him and hug him very tightly.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Oh, he's lucky that he's the hugging type. My knee was headed right towards his crotch. Bastard! All right, so I never would have done it, but I can feel like kicking my own ass for worrying myself, right? You know, it doesn't even bother me, thinking of him as me.

"Saved me again then?" I murmur into his hair, by his ear, and hug him tighter still. He's like...perfect. Or something. I don't know. I want to be just like him one day.

Saving my own ass. I wonder if my then younger self will love me as much as I do him.

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

It's hard to get my mind around all the emotions that are jumbled up together inside of me, let alone deal with the fact that I can feel my other self's as well. Worry that's quickly fading, and relief that takes its place. And...something else. Something I can't quite process. It's strange and overwhelming and it just gets me to rambling again.

"I didn't just save you," I whisper, my voice thick with tears. I can't hold them back anymore, and they run down my face, drip on his shoulder. "I saved Nathan. We both saved him. He's not going to die now."

Resting my head on his shoulder, I look up at him, crying and smiling, and I find myself stroking his hair, twirling my fingers in it. I really miss mine. Yeah, it's a little weird, but I don't care.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Peter nods slowly at his older self, sucking in his lips between his teeth as he watch him tear up. Well that just won't do! Deft fingers, soft and long and only mildly caloused from his time at school during his internship, wipe away the tears.

"Good. We saved him. Now, when you go home..." Because obviously, the other him won't be staying. Right? "He'll be alive again for you? Does it work like that?"

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

Peter doesn't usually care about crying in front of others, but it is a bit strange in front of himself. He's not upset though; they're happy tears. That's the problem with feeling too much, and he's sure his younger self can relate to that. So it's not a big deal.

"Yeah," Peter says, nodding and leaning against him. "This isn't an alternate reality. It's directly linked to mine, as far as I can tell. Change the right thing here, and events in my future will be affected. Like pulling strings. Does that make sense?"

His younger self probably hasn't done much time-traveling, or used any of his other abilities much either. There's still work to be done.

He sits up quickly and takes other Peter by his shoulders, wincing when he notices he's gotten blood all over him. "I can help you understand how your ability works. I know Claude tried, but who better to learn from than yourself?"

The truth is, and even Peter himself won't admit it, but he doesn't quite want to leave yet. There's a connection between them that he wants to understand himself.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Peter's not going to tell his older self no. He's not going to ask about paradoxes either. Or for clarification if it is even possible for him to go home now that he's changed himself. Obviously, he doesn't have memories of a man coming back in time helping him to save Nathan the first time around...

Ooookay. Too confusing. Peter decids to ignore it and helps the other Peter up, hand cupping elbow.

"You do have a lot of pretty cool tricks. And who knows, Nathan might get himself into trouble. Again. As usual."

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, he needs us to look out for him, huh?" Funny how Peter considers this a collective effort of theirs, watching out for their big brother.

Likely because Peter is too afraid to go back to his own time and find that he failed once again. He can't have. He just can't. That's why he's got to stick around here and see things through. Right?

Peter makes a beeline for the bathroom, tossing his bloody, mutilated shirt in the trash can as he goes. He leaves the door open while he strips down to nothing and takes a quick shower to get all the blood off. Technically this is his apartment too, right?

"Is Nathan still being a hardheaded asshole about the flying?" he calls, soaping up and watching the pinkish water swirl down the drain.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Peter snorts, going in the bathroom to clean up the clothes. He sets the water running warm in the sink and lets them soak. Oh, they're ruined, but he'd rather clean them as much as he can before tossing them. His 'brother,' his other self will find fresh jeans and a t-shirt in their stead on the toilet when he gets finished cleaning his skin.

"We don't talk about it," Peter says before he moves out of the bathroom. "Probably better that way. All he cares about is that stupid campaign of his."

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, well, that's Nathan," Peter replies bitterly, drying himself with the towel his younger self has left for him. "It only interests him if it's in his best interest."

He gets dressed in the clothes that belong to his younger self, a strange feeling surging through him while he does so. It's an echo, almost. His brother loved him. He knows that like he knows his middle name. So why won't Nathan admit that his little brother is more than just an insignificance in the grand scheme of things? This is something he can change too. He has to.

Peter bursts out of the bathroom and tears other Peter away from his video game.

"You've got to make him talk. Make him listen. You can make him do anything, don't you get it? You can do anything!"

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Peter screws his lips shuts and crosses his arms over his chest. "Make him talk? I can't make him return phone calls and there's no way in hell we're going back to his office after last time." Yeah, it's nice to have someone tell you that you have power, but Peter knows it isn't true.

He might not give in to his brother quite so much anymore, but he absolutely isn't to any sort of level of taking charge.

Gazing at the controller in his other self's hands, Peter flicks his wrist and brings it back into his own hand. Okay, seriously useful skill. "It's for the best. He's safe. He'll be in congress soon. What else do you want?"

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, you're right. Never mind him. Hey, that was pretty good," Peter says about other Peter's telekinetic display, changing the subject. "Try it with something heavier."

He goes over to the bookcase and selects a biology textbook, a hefty volume of Shakespeare, (no, he won't admit to anyone but himself he likes poetry) and a gaming manual for Final Fantasy 8. He drops them on the coffee table.

"Go ahead. Push them over to me without dropping anything." He stands across the room about ten feet away, almost in the kitchen.

Peter can feel it, that his younger self isn't confident enough to get right in Nathan's face and make him pay attention. But he himself is living proof that other Peter will get there one day. He'll just have to build him up.

Hands-on training, a little bit like Yoda teaching Luke Skywalker how to use the Force. The thought makes him want to laugh, but he doesn't dare.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

He doesn't have to. They think alike, mostly, and Peter's go the same ideas as his older self. After doing such menial tasks as book floating -- he sends them over Peter's head and back to the book shelf -- and chair wrangling (his apartment turns almost too Feng Sui for a few minutes), he simply has to ask Master Yoda if he can be a Jedi now.

The grin is short lived. "I don't like that one," he says with vague uncertainty. "I don't like how I have to feel."

It's not just thinking about the power user, not completely. It's more about feeling it and Peter's never been a murderer. Even if video games, he avoids it if possible. He always had such trouble in Final Fantasy, selecting the run away options, and never managed to have the money to buy upgrades.

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

Peter shakes his head, not because he doesn't understand, but because he does. He remembers how that felt, not wanting to use it because of the emotional cast-off that came with it. Sylar was, and still is, his mortal enemy. No, maybe not because Peter can't die. His antithesis. He's not going to say 'nemesis' because that sounds too comic-booky, and there's nothing fantastical about this.

Nathan taught him that necessity overrides emotion any day of the week. It doesn't matter how you feel when you're doing the things you know need to be done.

"All right, then forget that one. We should try flying again. Don't try to throttle me this time."

Peter flings open the window with TK again -- it's really very useful! -- and picks other Peter up and leads him right to it.

"Show me you can do it without my help. Like I did with Nathan," he adds, without even really meaning to.

God, he's really screwing this up, isn't he?

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Peter glances at his other self and smirks. "You're really ruining time lines aren't you? Spock wouldn't be happy at all." Peter's not a Star Trek fan at all, he's not really into science fiction unless it's been drawn and in panel form. And even then-- He prefers modern day stories. He likes Spiderman over Superman, despite the radioactive spider. Peter Parker's not an alien.

He's just genetically different from other humans.

Like he is! And yeah, Peter never gets tired of drawing comparisons between himself and his favorite comic book hero. And he likes to show off too. So, out the window he goes. He doesn't really care to feel the things his brother makes him feel at the moment either, so he flounders a bit before he catches himself and takes off.

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

Peter follows behind slowly, watching his younger self as he finds his wings, the ones his brother gave him, and he marvels at how hard his other self fights against it, so hard he almost falters.

But other Peter does as he's been instructed, just as he might do if Nathan were in his place. And that hurts. Nathan should be here, putting his two cents in. This isn't Peter's job. He's been through this before! Why is he saving himself from it? How can Peter learn what he knows if he teaches him otherwise?

His head spins from the discontinuity of it all, but nevertheless, he speeds up behind his younger self, catching up to him easily. He's flown many a mile without Nathan to help him or hold him back, that's for sure. Maybe other Peter just doesn't understand this yet.

Peter dips downward and seizes other Peter's wrist, halting his flight and effectively interrupting whatever's going through his other self's mind mind at the moment.

"He loves you, don't you get that?" he cries. "Why do you think I'm doing this? I'm trying to help you! I don't want you to make the same mistakes I did!"

The mistakes that killed him, Peter agonizes, pulling his other self close.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Being jerked out of flight is startling but to suddenly be clung to like that? He struggles at first, and while he's sure he can get away if he needs to, Peter will pursue him. He can't get away permanently and it's dawning on him, now, that his older self is probably unhinged.

He really doesn't want to hear about their tryst, his older self and the brother that died. "I know he loves me, he's my brother!" Yes, Peter's well aware of just who that 'he' is. It's the only thing that's ever on his other self's mind. "I love him too... And I'm sorry you lost him and what you had, I am, honestly, you know that--"

He swallows.

"Peter, you're hurting me..." And then the hug. That horrible, sad hug. He snuffles lightly against his neck and exhales slowly, tugging himself closer as well. "I'm sorry. I don't know what you want from me..."

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

Those soft words, spoken in his own voice but coming from the person in front of him, are like a shot to the chest. He knows that there's only one Peter Petrelli here, hovering in mid-air over the East River, who just doesn't get it. And it's himself.

He was so intent on this being the right place and the right time that he never really paid attention to the fact that this version of himself is normal and not incredibly twisted like he is. Or maybe he just didn't want to see it, didn't want to admit he was fighting a losing battle.

He hasn't stopped anything. Peter will go back, and everything will be as it was before. The thought is devastating, and his limbs go slack, his head dropping to other Peter's shoulder. If other Peter weren't here, he would go plummeting straight to earth, die on impact, and then pick himself up from the wreckage without a scratch.

Peter is tired, and death, permanent death, would be a relief.

But that isn't his fate.

"I don't -- I don't really know," Peter replies finally, pulling back, placing his hands carefully on his other self's shoulders. "I don't know anything anymore, and I'm sorry."

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

It's hard to keep up with what's going on anymore. Peter looked into his own eyes and just sees a whole lot of darkness and a lost sense of loneliness he really can't manage to identify. It scares him to think that he might become this way too. 

Peter sets a hand on his older version's cheek and lightly thumbs under his eye. 

"Let's go back. Have another beer. C'mon."

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

Peter smiles at the suggestion. That's exactly the way a Petrelli diffuses a tense, emotional situation like this one: alcohol. And if he knows himself, he's got a case of beer in the fridge next to the two-week old milk and untouched leftovers his mother brings by every once in the blue.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," he replies, closing his eyes at the simple touch of his other self's hand. That's one of the things he misses most about Nathan -- his affection.

Peter can feel how much his own loneliness and sadness are frightening his younger self, like a dark omen of what's to come. He doesn't want him to become the way he is, and since he prevented this Peter's 'death', maybe he won't. Maybe it wasn't all for nothing.

They fly back to the apartment, and get settled on the couch with beer and some pretzels Peter found in the back of one of the kitchen cabinets.

"Nothing like hanging out with yourself on a Friday night, huh?"

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

"Nothing I'm not use to," Peter replies with a gin. "We just need to order a pizza and pull out the mags." Because yes, if you can't talk about masturbation with yourself, who can you? And also yes, Peter jerks off to smutty comics. It's not that he doesn't like real women.

He does! But he just likes the situations in comics a bit more. And he really likes Power Girl and Lara Croft's girl on girl action. It's improbable, when would they ever meet but-- Peter glances up at his other self, flushed.

"Just the pizza then? Double saus-- Christ. Sorry, man, my mind's going crazy tonight."

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

Peter's eyes go wide, and his face burns just as hotly as his other self's is. He's always been a pretty blunt person, but this is just crazy! Sure, like there's even a point to playing it off and lying to himself that the mags Peter's talking about are not Playboy or Hustler.

"That's seriously what you do on a Friday night?" he deadpans. He can't hold it though, and he bursts out laughing. "Those artists are gifted, man."

He knows just where they are, too. He can't believe he's doing this, but he does it anyway, pulling up Peter's mattress and finding a treasure trove of inked lesbian antics.

"My cell phone doesn't work, so you call for the pizza. I don't have to tell you what I want, right?" he adds with that crooked smile, tossing one of the books into Peter's lap.

Being attracted to himself isn't necessarily a bad thing, right? It'll be like masturbation... in a whole new weird way. Yeah, he's still blushing.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Peter's not thinking like that. All right, he absolutely is, but it's unconscious and he knows it's wrong. He's already made out with the other Peter in the back of the taxi while he looked like his ex girlfriend, but that had been something completely different. Right? Exactly.

He mouths a 'fuck you' to Peter before he finishes the phone call, giving him a pointed glare.

"Yeah. Meat lover's is fine. Double the sausage." And that doesn't really embarrass his older self at all.

It just makes himself red and feeling like a jackass. He gives the address and throws the phone at the other Peter.

"You're nuts!"

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

"Hey, don't blame me!" Peter laughs, catching the phone before it whacks him in the face. "After all, you're the one that started it. Although lesbians don't really do it much for me anymore," he teases. Oh, sure they do. But seeing the permanent flush on his other self's face is priceless. Another terrible omen, it would seem: finding out that he is bisexual in the future.

The emotions he's picking up from his younger self are amusing, and not to mention getting him excited as well. He can't help but keep teasing him. Peter is definitely going to Hell, if he doesn't have a place set aside for him there already thanks to his brother.

He's on his fourth beer and feeling pretty good about this whole situation, and that's when he reaches over to take the magazine, not quite accidentally brushing his hand across the front of his younger self's jeans. "Sorry," he says, wondering if the puppy eyes will work on himself.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Yeah...no. Peter's spent a very long time with that particular look and he knows when he's being serious and when he isn't. That brush hadn't been serious, which has his mind spinning off in whole other directions.

One he actually isn't sure he cares for but doesn't try to stop. Reaching over, Peter grabs the comic and brings it back, thumbing slightly stuck together pages.

"This is mine. Get your own!"

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

"That's not fair," Peter says, pouting a bit. Technically they were his first! Well, maybe not these exact ones, but still!

Peter leans in closer so he can get an eyeful of the brightly-colored pages, filled with the sexual adventures of scantily-clad women with long flowing hair and incredibly large breasts.

"You can't tell me you're not curious," he whispers, setting his hand on other Peter's thigh. His head is swimming slightly from the alcohol and the realization of how wrong this is, what he's trying to get his younger self to do. But he can't stop.

"Besides, no one knows what you like better than you do," he says, his mouth inches from his other self's ear.

And seriously, when's the last time you got laid? he wants to add, but doesn't; that'd definitely piss him off.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Peter's breath tickles his ear and he swallows, turning his head slightly towards the other man. Aside from their hair cuts and varying degree of stubble, they're identical. Peter's lips part and he stiffens -- Completely. He has to remind himself to breathe or else he's going to pass out.

"I'm not that narcissistic Except he is. Anyone would be. He's not bad looking. And if he's willing to masturbate, he has to be willing to--

It is masturbating. Exactly the same thing. Peter is him! It's like being surrounded on all sides. He's talking himself into this internally and externally.

"What, haven't gotten laid in awhile?"

He's only trying to be stupid, but then he remembers that Peter's been sleeping with Nathan. And Nathan's dead. And--

He looks stricken. "I'm so sorry!"

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

Peter closes his eyes for a second, his other self's apology and the emotions that come along with it hurting him much more than the smart comment actually did. He's been with other men and women since Nathan -- there's not much more to do in an post-apocalyptic world than forage for food and supplies, and sleep around for a temporary distraction.

But this is something different. At least, he wants it to be.

"Don't feel sorry for me. I've done enough of that myself," he says, now looking directly into other Peter's eyes. It's funny, close up like this he could almost be looking into Nathan's, except his eyelashes aren't as long.

His younger self looks like he might start talking again, something as equally tactless as his last sentence no doubt, so Peter doesn't give him the chance. He buries his fingers into all that soft, dark hair he doesn't have anymore and kisses him fiercely. That should shut him up.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Peter needs to stop catching him like this. His younger self is entirely too easy to get himself in situations where he'll go along with nearly everything and that includes this. Funny, really, how it mirrors what might have happened with Nathan had Peter not come back in time to meddle with them.

Nathan had slipped his fingers into his hair much like this. Nathan had kissed him forcefully much like this.

It's just what they like. The wrongness just makes it better.

In no time at all, Peter's kissing him back. Heaven be damned.

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

The kissing is wonderful. He's always loved kissing, and since he's actually kissing himself, it's the most perfect thing he's ever experienced. Even better than it was when he was doing it as Vanessa. Peter is absolutely sure he could sit here for hours and just kiss him. That is, if his body weren't demanding otherwise.

Peter is not normally the aggressor in any sexual situation, but hell, one of them has to be, right?

And because of that, it's slightly awkward when he slips his hands under his younger self's shirt and runs them over a body that feels just like his own. It's surreal, and confusing, and just incredible --

And interrupted by the Goddamned doorbell. Looks like the double sausage pizza has arrived.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

The younger Peter isn't exactly passive. When his other self glances at the door, Peter climbs over him, pushing him down. He'd been about three seconds from taking off his shirt. But no, no, the pizza had to ruin it.

"Stay," he murmurs, lips to lips, sucking one more kiss out before he scrambles to the door with wildly tousled hair and a swollen, thoroughly kissed mouth. He shakes his hair to get the bangs out of his face and clambers over the back of the sofa. "I mean it. Don't move. I'll be right back."

He's still breathing hard and the money he takes out of his pocket is crumbled up individually. He does have a wallet, he doesn't know why he never uses it!

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

Of course Peter doesn't take his words literally, and he sits up to watch the exchange between one hot and bothered, disheveled Peter Petrelli and a college-age kid bearing pizza. He can have fun with this!

The pizza guy looks pretty bored and disinterested until elder Peter waves at him in an incredibly flamboyant kind of way, even blowing him a kiss. Pizza Guy's look changes to one of shock and alarm, and he just takes the crumpled-up money from the younger Peter's outstretched hand without even counting it and bolts.

"Guess that wasn't the kind of twin-on-twin action he wanted to see," Peter laughs breathlessly. "I mean, this is New York City!"

The double sausage pizza is forgotten once again as Peter pulls his younger self down for more kisses, interrupted this time only by getting their shirts off. And then more kisses. He never really noticed just how soft his skin was until right this minute.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

"You're horrible!" Peter says with a laugh, thumbs hooking the other man's belt loops before their precarious position can cause them both to tumble off of the sofa. The smell of the pizza is tempting right up until Peter's tongue runs up his neck. It's all down hill from there.

Now, there's a difference between making out with yourself and undressing yourself. And biting marks in your shoulder. And unzipping the pants of the guy that looks just like you...yeah.

It's getting pretty damn far and there's no where else for this to go but to see it through.

But they don't have to do it without a slice or two of pizza, right? Peter glances up and tugs down the box, waggling a slice in front of the other Peter's face. They're mostly undressed by that point. It seems silly, really, this tempting of food, but silly's just what Peter needs.

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

Either his younger self has picked up telepathy from him, or they just really do think alike. The smell of the pizza is just too alluring.

Peter grins and snatches the slice out of Peter's hand, and murmurs a heartfelt "Thank you" through a tremendous mouthful of cheese and sausage. Sex is good, but food is better, and neither one of them has eaten all day. It's kind of distracting and hardly attractive, your stomach rumbling while you're trying to get laid.

The momentary reprieve also gives Peter a moment to think on how far they might take this. He's pretty sure his younger self has only been with women. Well, he might as well ask. It can't possibly get more embarrassing than pleasuring oneself to lesbian comic book action.

"So, um, how do you want to do this?" Peter asks innocently, not even waiting for his other self to finish his slice before wiggling a hand into other Peter's underwear.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

He nearly chokes on his sausage, no pun intended, the moment fingers not his own, but definitely his own, close around his half hard erection. Peter blinks down at the man he's straddling. "Really?" he asks. "Really, we need to plan this out? Because if you ask me, it's going just fine."

Peter tosses the crust back in the box.

He'll eat it later. Cold. It's always better cold. Always. With lukewarm, flat beer.

Peter leans back down, the kissing less intense and far more sweet. He murmurs happily against his lips, hips jerking against the other man's palm.

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

"No, I guess not," Peter answers, shifting in his seat and pushing other Peter backward a bit. "What's fair is fair, though." He pulls other Peter's hand down to wrap around his own erection, a soft gasp leaving his lips at the contact. It feels like he's touching himself but not all at the same time. It's the strangest, best kind of masturbation ever.

He'd never touched another man in his life before Nathan, and if he hadn't wanted it so badly he would have probably balked halfway through. Maybe it's different since he isn't Nathan. Who really cares anyway?

"So... you'd have no problem fucking me, then?" He laughs against Peter's mouth, kissing him still, as he waits for his words to sink in.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

"I think I'm pretty fuckable." Big words from little Peter. He's never done this before but how hard can it be? Well, the answer to that is pretty damned hard. He shimmies out of his jeans and attacks his twin's too, getting them down to Peter's knees. He's curious. He wants to see. He want to compare.

And not on his couch. With pizza so temptingly close. He gives Peter a little bit of a tug and then drags him to his feet by his cock.

He's got one condom in his wallet. And hand cream.

"C'mon or it's comin' off."

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

All right, now Peter has to admit he's a just a little bit surprised. But only a little. This is what they like, anyway, isn't it? Quick and to the point. And he doesn't have to be told twice. He nearly trips over his underwear trying to kick them off and dash to the bedroom all at the same time.

"I'm going, I'm going! Give me that," Peter says, grabbing the hand cream from him. It's been a while since he's used this stuff for lube, but it always did the trick.

He pulls his younger self down into the bed with him, a thrill shooting through him when their bodies meet. Every movement they make is in perfect sync, as if they are truly one person.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Using his teeth to pull open the wrapper of his condom, Peter really wastes no time. If he thinks, it's over and done with. Fucking yourself is suppose to be just a saying. Not reality. He kisses Peter softly again, rolling him onto his stomach as his older self works with the improved lubricant. There's a small scuffle, mostly for purchase and in only a few moments' time, Peter hits home, burying himself up to his balls in the other man.

He yelps. They both do in succession. It's hard to tell which sound comes from which man. The younger Peter doesn't pause for fit or for comfort. He's too wound up.

It really won't take much time at all. It's been too long. He wants this too badly. Grabbing Peter's hips, he pumps into him with a steady rhythm, grunting against the back of his neck.

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

It's been way too long a time since Peter's been fucked quite like this, and it's nothing short of amazing. His younger self seems to know exactly what he's doing once he gets going, even if he was a bit impatient to start. He's always liked it to hurt a little, and it's not like he won't heal right away.

"You sure you've never done this before?" Peter gasps. "Because you're fucking great at it."

Clutching at the bedsheets, he braces himself, almost whining at how good it feels when Peter's hips slam against his ass, hitting that spot inside of him with incredible precision on every single thrust. One thing is for sure: Peter will never tell anyone to go fuck themselves again. Because it's incredible!

His next thought isn't one he really ought to be having right now, but it's so damn close to being with Nathan. As close as he'll probably ever get again. It figures, doesn't it?

He can tell his younger self isn't going to last much longer, but that's all right. He doesn't have to if he keeps on fucking him just like this. Peter grabs hold of himself and with a few expert strokes, three to be exact, he moans out a breathless curse, come spilling over his hand and onto the bedsheets. He's left breathing hard and barely able to hold himself up by the time the younger Peter gets there himself.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Peter laughs, breathlessly, against his other self's shoulder. He ought to save the chit chat for later, to focus on the task at hand, but that's sort of the beauty of having sex with yourself. Who are you trying to impress?

"I'm great at it? Jesus, you clench your muscles perfectly, I just-- I just-- Ahh!" He's loud. It doesn't matter. This is his apartment. Maybe someone standing just outside can hear him come but otherwise, the whining yelp is just for the man beneath him.

Peter's still laughing even after he hits orgasm, laying against the other Peter's back. He makes a soft mewling noise and strokes his ribs. Peter's still young. He's quite viral. Give him a few minutes and he's ready to go again.

Quite literally. "Why'd we even bother with a condom?" he asks, pulling out to dispose of the used one. "We can't get sick!"

Over the course of the next forty-five minutes, they get themselves sticky and ruin the sheets and Peter crawls out to get the pizza so that they can finish their dinner. What's a little tomato sauce when they've shared semen?

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

Peter licks tomato sauce off his fingers, and finds a fallen bit of sausage on his twin's shoulder and licks that off too, laughing. They've polished off the rest of the pizza, and they're sweaty and sticky and in desperate need of a shower. Maybe in a little while. For now, he just wants to stay right where he is, spent and satiated and for the first time in a long while, actually happy.

He wonders if it's strange that after all of this, he wants to think of the other Peter as his brother, and not as his alternate version. He'll keep that to himself for now; he doesn't want anything to screw this up.

He pops the cap off a beer and chugs it because damn, a marathon fucking session like that one makes a man thirsty!

"How many times did you come? It looks like there was an orgy in here!" he cracks, dissolving into more laughter, curling his body around his younger self's and resting his head on his shoulder.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

That's a whole new problem. Brother would involve him being little more than a surrogate for Nathan and he really, really can't deal with that. Being with himself keeps his sexual identity intact. Keeps his world view possible.

"I think that most of that's yours," Peter grins, eyelids heavy. He can't remember the last time he's been held like this.

[fallen-empath.livejournal.com]

"Probably couldn't even tell it apart in a laboratory... it all belongs to Peter Petrelli. That's disturbing, and funny as hell," he murmurs against his younger self's skin, pulling the cleanest part of the comforter over them both.

Peter knows there's no way he's dragging himself out of this bed tonight. He's too sleepy, too full, and much too comfortable. Laundry and shower tomorrow. And then he eventually has to go home. Much as he'd like to, Peter can't shack up here with his other self forever just because he wants to escape a world where there's nothing left for him except for memories of what used to be. But for right now, he'll let himself pretend he belongs right here.

And his drained, drifting state, it finally occurs to him that there is a Nathan Petrelli alive in this world who could very well show up at any moment. There's no explaining this one away. Hopefully the bastard doesn't have keys...