It's Called Being a Hero

[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.

Comments

[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."

[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.

[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.