chimeramimicry: (Puppy - Eyebrow Quirk smirk amused)
[personal profile] chimeramimicry
"It's Called Being a Hero"
Who: Peter, Peter, Nathan
When: After some weird selfcest.


The knock on the door made Peter blink as he tilted away from the open refrigerator door.  Who the hell came for a visit without calling first?  Delivery guys.  Huh.  Did his new Superman resin kit arrive already?  He didn't get the confirmation email or--  Well, whatever.  He's just glad that it came up to his door instead of being left at the mailboxes like usual.  Jeez, he had more stuff swiped that way.

"Hang on."  Slam goes the door.  Milk in hand, and wearing only his boxers, Peter and his rumpled hair go to answer the door.

He's not expecting Nathan.

The deer in headlights look gives that away.

Date: 2011-11-26 07:27 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] chimeramimic.livejournal.com
Peter almost says hello to the boys, almost moves in to give Heidi a hug... But can't. Doesn't. He's grateful, actually, for his twin having stumbled back against him. It gives his arms something to do. Holding Peter up might not seem like the most amusing chore, but it's something that needs to be done for everyone's sake.

Once Peter's ushered inside, it takes the younger of the two a bit of effort to get himself in as well. The door had been shut on him, after all. Sighing, Peter frowns at the heavy wood and then circles around back to slip in through the kitchen.

It requires him flying over the house to avoid jumping garden walls, but he's rather lucky that he can sustain both powers.

Well, almost. He does wind up crashing into Heidi's rose bushes. Luckily, no one is nearby to hear him cursing as he pulls the thorns out and rushes inside.

The boys have dragged Peter off, leaving the pained twin standing in the room with Heidi and Nathan as the latter mutters about his hair and Heidi soothes him by saying that he looks a little more grown up now.

Dinner will be soon. And Peter takes the opportunity to sample the cooking while no one's looking.

Date: 2011-11-26 08:51 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] fallen-empath.livejournal.com
Dinner with his brother's family turns out not to be as nerve-wracking as he expected it to be. Monty and Simon manage to hoard his attention for a full hour, showing him the newest Final Fantasy installment, before Heidi whisks him into the kitchen for a glass of wine. All right, two.

He finds that if he keeps shoveling salad greens, ricotta stuffed shells, and soft, delicious homemade breadsticks into his mouth, he doesn't have to talk much, except maybe for a well-placed grunt of contentment and a belch that makes Monty and Simon laugh hysterically and his brother frown only half-seriously. He even manages to almost forget that his younger self is invisibly hanging around, nabbing bits of food from the serving dishes when no one is looking. It's wonderful, being with his family like this again.

Nathan's cell phone rings just as they're finishing dessert, freshly baked apple pie with vanilla ice cream, and by the look on Nathan's face, Peter can tell it's not just a friendly chat happening.

"I gotta go, honey," Nathan grumbles, rising from his chair. "Some last minute changes on the itinerary for next week that can't wait. Damn it. You want to come for the ride, Pete?"

Peter nearly chokes on his pie, but Heidi answers for him. "Sure, Peter. Or else you'll be here washing dishes with me and hearing about the curtains I'm picking out for the living room." He hugs the kids and Heidi hard, knowing it's the last time he'll see them.

You make damn sure you get in that car with us, Peter! he thinks furiously, as he follows Nathan out to his Mercedes.

Date: 2011-11-26 09:02 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] chimeramimic.livejournal.com
Which means that he needs to get out there first, while Nathan is in the bathroom primping in case there are reporters or cameras. Peter heads out through the back door, gently closing it, before he slips into the garage and climbed into the back seat.

Doing as he's told is easy. He's been doing it his whole life. And he's not about to let Peter face a chat with his brother alone. Besides, he might be needed for it. Or, rather, his brain might be needed for it. Memories. Thoughts. Just in case.

You never know when it comes to altered time lines!

Peter's mostly minding his own business as the other Peter and Nathan slip into the car. He manages to keep to himself, lounging back against the door, when Nathan asks about the man he had over last night.

All of the blood just drains from his face, and he's glad he's not visible.

Shit. Nathan knows.

Date: 2011-11-26 09:41 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] fallen-empath.livejournal.com
As first Peter is genuinely confused. He didn't have any man over last night! Oh... right. Shit!

Peter chastises himself for having peeked out of the bedroom while younger Peter and Nathan discussed their breakfast plans.

"You know, I should have figured it out that night when you didn't want to leave the gay bar. Why didn't you just tell me you... played for the other team?" Nathan demands, going slightly red in the face.

Why would he and his brother go anywhere near a gay bar? Nathan is uncomfortable just talking about the subject of homosexuality! He'll have to remember to ask Peter about it later.

"Nathan, don't be an asshole. I play for both teams," he admits sheepishly. "What, now you're going to give me the third degree about how it's a sin and I'm going to Hell?"

Younger Peter is going to kill him for coming out on his behalf. But he can never lie to Nathan!

However, Peter is practiced with his abilities where younger Peter is fairly new to them, and he knows that this discomfort stems from the fact that Nathan has had feelings like that himself and never acted on them, paired with a jealous, almost possessive need to protect Peter. He's repressed it for years. Just as it was with his own brother.

"Just because no one knows how you feel about me doesn't make you any better," Peter finishes with a conspiratorial smile. His twin is probably panicking in the backseat right now. But Peter doesn't care. This is his last shot at being with his brother, even if he has to coerce it along. He's just putting things back on track when his left hand wanders into Nathan's lap, touching him in a way no one should ever touch their brother.

Date: 2011-11-26 10:19 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] chimeramimic.livejournal.com
What the hell are you doing!?

Peter wants to snatch his other self by the arm and tug him out of the car. However, not only is that impractical, but in a car headed towards the densest part of the city, it's impossible. Peter probably can't open the car door even if he wanted to.

Thank you child locks on the back doors. He doesn't have the repertoire of powers that his older self had either, making this even more impossible.

Helpless, Peter watches as Nathan jumps. The sliver of his brother's face is masked in an illusion of unamused disgust, as if he is planning on chiding Peter for playing his childish games as he use to when they both were much younger.

He nearly loses his hold on his invisibility when the words of retort suppose to be coming out of his brother's mouth instead form a moan.

A fucking moan. Shit!

Date: 2011-11-26 11:11 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] fallen-empath.livejournal.com
"Peter, what the fuck are you -- oh, Jesus Christ. Oh, God..."

Peter enjoys hearing Nathan curse his way through the handjob, and he can hear the panicked thoughts of abject horror that belong to his younger self at the incestuous scene unfolding before him, the most X-rated bits of it hidden by the expensive leather driver's seat.

But it must be perfectly obvious to his other self what's happening. Peter leans over, and to say that he's invading his brother's personal space is an understatement.

Nathan does a spectacular job of obeying traffic regulations and stopping for pedestrians while he shifts in the chair, soft moans and an errant gasp or two issuing from him. The sounds aren't loud, but in the enclosed space and no radio playing, they seem to be. Or maybe it's because Peter just hasn't heard them for so long.

His empathy is working overtime right now, and it's a wonderful mixture of extreme emotion. Nathan's rapidly building excitement and lust, which overpower his shame at giving into what he's always wanted. His other self's anger and helplessness at being unable to do a damn thing about it. Anyone who ever said Peter Petrelli didn't have a selfish bone in his body obviously never took a close enough look at what truly lies within him.

It doesn't take long to bring Nathan to orgasm; it's an acquired skill. He sits up, completely pleased with himself, but nowhere near done seducing his older brother if he can help it.

Date: 2011-11-26 11:25 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] chimeramimic.livejournal.com
In the backseat, Peter puts both of his hands over his mouth and turns tear filled eyes towards the window. He should have known. He should have known! What the fuck is wrong with him? Being taken by his older self again? And all for what? The next base on his field of incestuous exploits with his brother?! Peter lost his own. He had to stop making moves on his. And...

And he even managed to coerce him to sleep with him now so...

Shame and embarrassment and hurt overtake the anger he feels the moments after Nathan climaxes. Peter presses the heel of his hand against one eye. There's just breathing in the car now. Soft breathing. Nathan's quiet. The other Peter is quiet.

The moment the car stops, when Nathan's got his hands on the wheel and his foot on the break, when his mind is clouded by lust and the honking of cabs trying to kill each other for a fare is loudest, Peter slips out of the car.

He's not staying for this. He's not.

Date: 2011-11-26 11:52 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] fallen-empath.livejournal.com
Peter finds himself embarrassed after the fact, and extremely ashamed. For damn good reason. The older brother he seduced is not really his. His own regretful thoughts are the only thing he hears now, because the car -- and his empathic sense -- have become unnervingly quiet.

Nathan hasn't said a word, hasn't turned to look at him. He's either in shock or so angry that he can't decide which to feel first.

And his other self's presence, which he's grown very accustomed to since his time with him, is completely gone. Vanished without a trace.

Either he picked up Hiro's teleportation, or he got out the old-fashioned way. He looks at the child-lock switch by Nathan's left elbow. It's set to 'off'.

Shit.

Peter knows right then that he's screwed things up royally, and he can feel tears pricking at his eyes. He tries to get his brother's attention, but it comes out weak. "Nathan."

His brother doesn't answer, and looks positively stunned that his dick is softening and hanging out of his open fly.

"Nathan?" he tries again.

"Get out of the car, Peter. Right now. You're five blocks from your apartment. Go home. When I see you again, keep your fucking hands off me, you understand? Now, before the light changes."

"What?" Peter stammers, not sure he's hearing that right.

"Are you hard of hearing? Get out of my car."

Peter opens the passenger side door and flees the scene of his crime, a city bus narrowly missing him as he steps onto the sidewalk. Tears run down his face as he walks the few blocks to a home that isn't his either.

Date: 2011-11-27 12:09 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] chimeramimic.livejournal.com
Peter's been sitting on the sofa for a good ten minutes by the time the other man decides to make his presence known. He's been visible for some time, plucking at the strands of soft, short hair that now graces the back of his skull. He's not trying to hurt himself, it's just a nervous tick.

He's not sure if he'll ever be able to look at Nathan again. He'll never see the boys. He'll never have Heidi's delicious cooking or get hugged to death by her and told how handsome he's getting as if he's not already a grown man. And Nathan will never come over on the once-a-year beer and pizza night he manages to find time for. He won't show up for his birthday out of the blue or take him out for reverse course dinners to celebrate, complete with starting off the meal with a lit candle.

Peter has royally fucked up his life with that little stunt.

So, when the door opens, Peter's back to being angry and not upset. His eyes are still puffy from tears, though.

"Don't use my tooth brush if you need to brush your teeth."

Date: 2011-11-27 12:28 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] fallen-empath.livejournal.com
Peter closes the door to the apartment very quietly, and he's slammed with a tidal wave of his other self's anger and pain. He wishes he could crawl under the bed and just hide there until eternity literally passes him by.

He's fucked things up not for himself, but for his other self. Peter can just go home to his life of scavenging and hard living. Nathan will still be dead, and he'll still miss him.

But now he's gone and taken away his other self's brother from him. For what? A mouthful of semen? Exhibitionistic experimentation? A cheap thrill at the expense of everything this Peter has ever had?

"I won't use your toothbrush," Peter whispers, wiping at the tears that just won't stop.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry...

He wants to say the words, but they won't help. They don't really mean anything. They can't give his younger self back his dignity or his normal relationship with his Nathan. They can't take away his shame.

"This is your apartment. Do you want me to leave?" he very nearly sobs, sitting right in the middle of the floor.

Date: 2011-11-27 01:22 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] chimeramimic.livejournal.com
Well how's he suppose to make him leave if he's just going to sit there and sob? And why is he crying? Guilty conscience? Peter bristles, standing up in a classic, angry super hero pose with fists balled and feet apart. Oh... He's in a very bad mood.

"Maybe I should leave," he muses. "I'll go back to where you're from and you can continue to seduce my brother, how's that? It's what you came back here for, right?"

Peter looks like him but is definitely not him. He doesn't even want to hear the excuses. He doesn't want to argue. He just wants to throw up.

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Peter Petrelli

November 2011

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