hackthis_archive (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hackthis_archive) wrote2006-11-29 11:48 am
hackthis_archive) wrote2006-11-29 11:48 am
Entry tags:
Heroes - My Brother's Keeper (PG13)
It has come to my attention that there are people who don't love Nathan the way I love Nathan and as ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
antheia would say that makes the Baby Cooper Clooney cry. Nathan is so much of what Season 1 Lex could've become –- he's a good man. He tries. He's a little morally dubious, but aren't all the best characters? I thought that was why people liked them.
I digress. You ask, I deliver.
Heroes
Spoilers through 1.09 'Six Months Ago'
Nathan Petrelli & Peter Petrelli
My Brother's Keeper
Peter is six; Nathan is almost eighteen.
Peter is wide eyes and floppy hair and entirely too much energy for Nathan, who is concentrating on SATs and Harvard and whether or not he's going to get into Sophie Rothschild's –- a great, great, great-granddaughter of the original Mayer Amschel Rothschild line –- pants when he takes her to see Peggy Sue Got Married on Friday night. Nathan has no desire to see this movie, which is exactly why they're going. This way he won't be distracted from trying to get a hand job.
Peter is toys all over the floor; Nathan is letterman jackets and football trophies littering the Park Avenue apartment where their cook grows her herbs of the roof of the penthouse. The Petrelli idea of the outdoors is Central Park. The Petrelli idea of child rearing is leaving scathing letters for the latest governess instead of interacting with the children at all.
When Peter flings his arms around Nathan's waist and declares, "I love you," it's the sort of emphatic declaration that only the very young are capable of giving.
"Did you wash your hands before you started smearing them on me?" Nathan gripes good-naturedly. He's standing in the kitchen trying to figure out if he should eat before he goes over to Bruce's place or not. Alfred will probably cook anyway.
Peter's got a runny nose and grape jelly stains around the corners of his mouth. Nathan has no idea where Peter's nanny is, which is typical of Greta.
Nathan misses Inga, but according to their mother so does their dad, and that's entirely too cliché to be acceptable.
Peter blinks and his hold loosens slightly. Nathan sighs. "Yeah, that's what I thought, pipsqueak," he says, "go wash 'em, right now."
"Will you read to me?" Peter does this thing where his lower lip juts out, and it's been cute for a while, but soon he'll be too old for that. Soon, he'll be too old for story time too. Pretty soon Nathan will be in college and he won't have any say in what Peter's too old for.
"That depends -– what am I reading?"
Nathan can practically hear the gears in Peter's head turning from where he's standing in the doorway. "Ender's Game?"
"Again?" Nathan gave Peter that book five months ago, and he's been reading it ever since.
Peter blinks. "I love you best," he says.
Nathan just snorts.
Peter waits a beat -- Nathan has no idea what he's waiting for. "Sometime today," he prods. Peter nods his head after a moment before running off.
Peter is thirteen and three-quarters. Nathan is twenty-five.
Peter is difficult. And the only thing more trying than Peter is being Peter's big brother, because that's what Nathan is -– he's Peter's big brother with all that that entails.
Nathan should be studying for the bar, but instead he has a petulant, sullen thirteen year-old on the phone.
"Why do we have to keep going through this?" Nathan's trying to talk and flip through his Tort law notes too, but he keeps getting distracted, because that's all Peter is -– one big distraction.
"Because you won't admit that I'm right." Peter's whining gives him a headache. Nathan misses the good old days of bold declarations and finger-painting.
If Nathan had known the conversation was going to be this tedious, he would've let the answering machine pick up the call. He hates teenagers -- everything with them is so fucking dramatic. "Peter, you're not right, you're paranoid."
"I'm telling you, Dad's totally doing something weird with Mr. Linderman."
Nathan sighs and rolls over on his back. His sheets still smell like Wendy Rosserman Vanderbilt. "Do you really think our father is gay? I think the nine nannies you had would've taught you differently."
"No, not weird like hiding in the closet—weird like illegal."
There's something poking Nathan in the back of his head. When he reaches behind him and grabs at it, it turns out to be Wendy Rosserman Vanderbilt's bra. It's a big bra.
"Peter, you're thirteen."
"Fourteen."
"Whatever, your hormones are over-developed. Last week you thought the homeless guy on the subway was really Warrior Angel in disguise. Do us both a favor: go jerk off and leave me alone."
"You never fucking listen to me," Nathan can hear the sputtering down the phone line.
"Say something worthwhile," Nathan replies indolently, "and maybe I'll listen." It's Nathan's job to protect, guide, and do right by Peter -- but sometimes Peter makes that so fucking difficult. Sometimes Nathan wants to smack Peter in the head and tell him to get over it.
"Fuck you," Peter snaps before hanging up.
"That's my brother," Nathan says to his empty room.
He wonders if all siblings act like this.
After walking Heidi downstairs and making sure she's left in a yellow taxi, Nathan takes the elevator back up to his parent's apartment. His mother and father are still talking animatedly in the living room with Gloria Vanderbilt and her son Anderson. Nathan makes a sharp left away from them and heads towards the kitchen. Peter's standing in front of the refrigerator with the door wide open.
Nathan leans against the doorway and watches his brother for several minutes. "Maybe I should take a picture and tape it on the door so you can stare a bit longer," he says eventually.
Nathan can see the smirk in Peter's profile. "She seems like a nice girl," Peter says. From this angle, Nathan can see that he has their father's nose. "Too nice for you –- I mean she's no Lex."
The smile that was creeping across Nathan's face dies down. "I thought we agreed that you weren't going to bring him up anymore."
Peter shrugs. "I liked Lex, what can I say."
There's a tick in corner of Nathan's left eye. "Lex gave you drugs and got arrested three times. And that was just last month alone."
When Peter turns to him, his eyes are narrowed and the considering look he gives Nathan says more about how well Peter reads him than Nathan wants to know. "I thought you guys were friends."
"That was a long time ago."
"That was last week."
Nathan exhales through his nose. "Heidi is this week -– get with the program."
Peter shuts the door of the refrigerator without taking anything out. "Did you love him?"
Nathan's across the kitchen in two seconds. "You are way out of line," he hisses into Peter's face. "And keep your voice down."
Peter shrugs. If their parents weren't in the next room, Nathan would wring his neck. "I was just curious -– I mean you never say it to me, or mom and dad, or hell, anybody you've ever dated as far as I can tell."
The tick in Nathan's eye is turning into a full-blown twitch. "We are not having this conversation right now."
"I'm just saying, you must be one cold-hearted bastard to leave him to detox in Smallville, Kansas like that."
"Lex wasn't my friend," Nathan enunciates each word clearly.
"Oh, so you guys were just fucking around." This is not the first time Peter's had an opinion about someone Nathan brought home.
"I should've drowned you in the bathtub," Nathan spits.
"The DA's office frowns upon their star attorney playing both sides," Peter smiles knowingly. "I got it. You never told me how you guys hooked up though -– I thought you'd gone to Metropolis to prosecute his dad in the first place."
Nathan hands are clenched into fists –- it would be so easy to hit Peter. To just knock the shit and the martyrdom out of him –- that's what brothers are supposed to do. "You should've been aborted."
"I love you too, bro."
Peter is twenty. Nathan is thirty-one. They see a lot more of each other now that Nathan's not in school. Now, there are a lot less places for Nathan to hide. He hates this. Peter is almost twelve years younger than Nathan is. Peter shouldn't be able to provoke him this way.
Peter is twenty-seven. Nathan is thirty-eight. Peter is in his second year of nursing school, and Nathan has been married to Heidi for seven years.
Nathan and Heidi have two children who Peter dotes on shamelessly, but tonight he and Nathan are watching the football game and drinking beer. Well, Nathan is watching the game, Peter is yammering on about orthopedic shoes and reflexology.
They've had a lot of beers, and Nathan's slaps his hand over Peter's mouth automatically. "Okay, if I hear the words 'rheumatoid arthritis' come out of your mouth one more time I'm going to throw you out the window."
He pulls his hand way when Peter licks the flat of his palm. Peter smiles toothily. "We're on the first floor."
"I'd go up to the second floor just to make my point."
"For all you know, I can fly."
"Dream on, Peter Pan."
Peter snorts. Nathan 1, Peter 0.
They sit companionably for several seconds watching the Giants suck even more than usual. Eventually Peter breaks the silence. "Are we going to talk about the Linderman thing or not?"
Nathan takes a swig of his beer. Their mother hates beer, she says it's gauche, which is obviously why they both love it. "What's there to talk about? You give a deposition and dad goes to jail. I think that's a pretty short conversation."
"Nate -- it's the right thing."
"I hate it when you call me Nate."
"You know what I hate? When you pretend like you're not a good guy. Why does doing the right thing always seem to pain you so much?"
"Sorry I have qualms about sending our father to jail -- I thought you were the moral one."
"That's funny, I thought you'd be used to hanging people out to dry by now. When was the last time you talked to Lex?"
Nathan doesn't know what to say to that.
Nathan 1, Peter 1.
Another quarter, another four beers, and the silence between them is eerily comforting. At least there's no blood. They always know just the right buttons to push. They can be easy with each other or they can go for the jugular. Nathan doesn't have this with anybody else.
"Do you tell her you love her?"
Round three.
"Do I tell who I love her?" Nathan asks by rote. He's a sucker for punishment. At least he is if it's by Peter's hand.
"Heidi." Peter plays along. He never seems to get it.
"That's between my wife and I."
"So that's a yes."
"No, that's a mind your own fucking business."
"You've never told me you love me."
"Jesus, are we back to this again? Didn't you get over this when you were still in footie pyjamas?"
"Why are you so repressed?"
"Why are you such a hippie dipshit?"
"Why can't you just say it?"
"I'm your brother," Nathan grits out. "I shouldn't have to tell you these things."
Nathan can feel Peter stiffening beside him. "You're my brother -- that's exactly why you're supposed to tell me these things."
Nathan rolls his eyes. "You'll get over it."
"What if I don't? What if I spend the rest of my life thinking that the person I respect the most in the world doesn't care at all?"
Nathan rubs his forehead. "You can't look to me for your vindication, Peter -- you have to do stuff on your own."
"I thought that's what big brothers were for -- moral support."
Nathan shakes his head. Peter has always wanted these big statements from him, but that's not what Nathan does.
Just because Nathan doesn't say it, doesn't make it any less true.
Sometimes Peter doesn't get it.
Sometimes Nathan can't believe they're related at all.
Peter sits up and pulls his sneakers out from underneath the table. "I have to go," he says abruptly, but he takes forever to put on his shoes and leave. If he's waiting on Nathan, he'll be waiting a long time.
Nathan's still sitting in front of the TV long after Peter's gone.
If it were anybody else Nathan wouldn't care about what just transpired –- only Peter could drive Nathan crazy and break his heart. Sometimes he wonders who is supposed to be looking after whom after all.
-end-
Beta byserialkarma, who is most awesome, like, all the time. ♥
antheia would say that makes the Baby Cooper Clooney cry. Nathan is so much of what Season 1 Lex could've become –- he's a good man. He tries. He's a little morally dubious, but aren't all the best characters? I thought that was why people liked them.I digress. You ask, I deliver.
Heroes
Spoilers through 1.09 'Six Months Ago'
Nathan Petrelli & Peter Petrelli
Peter is six; Nathan is almost eighteen.
Peter is wide eyes and floppy hair and entirely too much energy for Nathan, who is concentrating on SATs and Harvard and whether or not he's going to get into Sophie Rothschild's –- a great, great, great-granddaughter of the original Mayer Amschel Rothschild line –- pants when he takes her to see Peggy Sue Got Married on Friday night. Nathan has no desire to see this movie, which is exactly why they're going. This way he won't be distracted from trying to get a hand job.
Peter is toys all over the floor; Nathan is letterman jackets and football trophies littering the Park Avenue apartment where their cook grows her herbs of the roof of the penthouse. The Petrelli idea of the outdoors is Central Park. The Petrelli idea of child rearing is leaving scathing letters for the latest governess instead of interacting with the children at all.
When Peter flings his arms around Nathan's waist and declares, "I love you," it's the sort of emphatic declaration that only the very young are capable of giving.
"Did you wash your hands before you started smearing them on me?" Nathan gripes good-naturedly. He's standing in the kitchen trying to figure out if he should eat before he goes over to Bruce's place or not. Alfred will probably cook anyway.
Peter's got a runny nose and grape jelly stains around the corners of his mouth. Nathan has no idea where Peter's nanny is, which is typical of Greta.
Nathan misses Inga, but according to their mother so does their dad, and that's entirely too cliché to be acceptable.
Peter blinks and his hold loosens slightly. Nathan sighs. "Yeah, that's what I thought, pipsqueak," he says, "go wash 'em, right now."
"Will you read to me?" Peter does this thing where his lower lip juts out, and it's been cute for a while, but soon he'll be too old for that. Soon, he'll be too old for story time too. Pretty soon Nathan will be in college and he won't have any say in what Peter's too old for.
"That depends -– what am I reading?"
Nathan can practically hear the gears in Peter's head turning from where he's standing in the doorway. "Ender's Game?"
"Again?" Nathan gave Peter that book five months ago, and he's been reading it ever since.
Peter blinks. "I love you best," he says.
Nathan just snorts.
Peter waits a beat -- Nathan has no idea what he's waiting for. "Sometime today," he prods. Peter nods his head after a moment before running off.
Peter is thirteen and three-quarters. Nathan is twenty-five.
Peter is difficult. And the only thing more trying than Peter is being Peter's big brother, because that's what Nathan is -– he's Peter's big brother with all that that entails.
Nathan should be studying for the bar, but instead he has a petulant, sullen thirteen year-old on the phone.
"Why do we have to keep going through this?" Nathan's trying to talk and flip through his Tort law notes too, but he keeps getting distracted, because that's all Peter is -– one big distraction.
"Because you won't admit that I'm right." Peter's whining gives him a headache. Nathan misses the good old days of bold declarations and finger-painting.
If Nathan had known the conversation was going to be this tedious, he would've let the answering machine pick up the call. He hates teenagers -- everything with them is so fucking dramatic. "Peter, you're not right, you're paranoid."
"I'm telling you, Dad's totally doing something weird with Mr. Linderman."
Nathan sighs and rolls over on his back. His sheets still smell like Wendy Rosserman Vanderbilt. "Do you really think our father is gay? I think the nine nannies you had would've taught you differently."
"No, not weird like hiding in the closet—weird like illegal."
There's something poking Nathan in the back of his head. When he reaches behind him and grabs at it, it turns out to be Wendy Rosserman Vanderbilt's bra. It's a big bra.
"Peter, you're thirteen."
"Fourteen."
"Whatever, your hormones are over-developed. Last week you thought the homeless guy on the subway was really Warrior Angel in disguise. Do us both a favor: go jerk off and leave me alone."
"You never fucking listen to me," Nathan can hear the sputtering down the phone line.
"Say something worthwhile," Nathan replies indolently, "and maybe I'll listen." It's Nathan's job to protect, guide, and do right by Peter -- but sometimes Peter makes that so fucking difficult. Sometimes Nathan wants to smack Peter in the head and tell him to get over it.
"Fuck you," Peter snaps before hanging up.
"That's my brother," Nathan says to his empty room.
He wonders if all siblings act like this.
After walking Heidi downstairs and making sure she's left in a yellow taxi, Nathan takes the elevator back up to his parent's apartment. His mother and father are still talking animatedly in the living room with Gloria Vanderbilt and her son Anderson. Nathan makes a sharp left away from them and heads towards the kitchen. Peter's standing in front of the refrigerator with the door wide open.
Nathan leans against the doorway and watches his brother for several minutes. "Maybe I should take a picture and tape it on the door so you can stare a bit longer," he says eventually.
Nathan can see the smirk in Peter's profile. "She seems like a nice girl," Peter says. From this angle, Nathan can see that he has their father's nose. "Too nice for you –- I mean she's no Lex."
The smile that was creeping across Nathan's face dies down. "I thought we agreed that you weren't going to bring him up anymore."
Peter shrugs. "I liked Lex, what can I say."
There's a tick in corner of Nathan's left eye. "Lex gave you drugs and got arrested three times. And that was just last month alone."
When Peter turns to him, his eyes are narrowed and the considering look he gives Nathan says more about how well Peter reads him than Nathan wants to know. "I thought you guys were friends."
"That was a long time ago."
"That was last week."
Nathan exhales through his nose. "Heidi is this week -– get with the program."
Peter shuts the door of the refrigerator without taking anything out. "Did you love him?"
Nathan's across the kitchen in two seconds. "You are way out of line," he hisses into Peter's face. "And keep your voice down."
Peter shrugs. If their parents weren't in the next room, Nathan would wring his neck. "I was just curious -– I mean you never say it to me, or mom and dad, or hell, anybody you've ever dated as far as I can tell."
The tick in Nathan's eye is turning into a full-blown twitch. "We are not having this conversation right now."
"I'm just saying, you must be one cold-hearted bastard to leave him to detox in Smallville, Kansas like that."
"Lex wasn't my friend," Nathan enunciates each word clearly.
"Oh, so you guys were just fucking around." This is not the first time Peter's had an opinion about someone Nathan brought home.
"I should've drowned you in the bathtub," Nathan spits.
"The DA's office frowns upon their star attorney playing both sides," Peter smiles knowingly. "I got it. You never told me how you guys hooked up though -– I thought you'd gone to Metropolis to prosecute his dad in the first place."
Nathan hands are clenched into fists –- it would be so easy to hit Peter. To just knock the shit and the martyrdom out of him –- that's what brothers are supposed to do. "You should've been aborted."
"I love you too, bro."
Peter is twenty. Nathan is thirty-one. They see a lot more of each other now that Nathan's not in school. Now, there are a lot less places for Nathan to hide. He hates this. Peter is almost twelve years younger than Nathan is. Peter shouldn't be able to provoke him this way.
Peter is twenty-seven. Nathan is thirty-eight. Peter is in his second year of nursing school, and Nathan has been married to Heidi for seven years.
Nathan and Heidi have two children who Peter dotes on shamelessly, but tonight he and Nathan are watching the football game and drinking beer. Well, Nathan is watching the game, Peter is yammering on about orthopedic shoes and reflexology.
They've had a lot of beers, and Nathan's slaps his hand over Peter's mouth automatically. "Okay, if I hear the words 'rheumatoid arthritis' come out of your mouth one more time I'm going to throw you out the window."
He pulls his hand way when Peter licks the flat of his palm. Peter smiles toothily. "We're on the first floor."
"I'd go up to the second floor just to make my point."
"For all you know, I can fly."
"Dream on, Peter Pan."
Peter snorts. Nathan 1, Peter 0.
They sit companionably for several seconds watching the Giants suck even more than usual. Eventually Peter breaks the silence. "Are we going to talk about the Linderman thing or not?"
Nathan takes a swig of his beer. Their mother hates beer, she says it's gauche, which is obviously why they both love it. "What's there to talk about? You give a deposition and dad goes to jail. I think that's a pretty short conversation."
"Nate -- it's the right thing."
"I hate it when you call me Nate."
"You know what I hate? When you pretend like you're not a good guy. Why does doing the right thing always seem to pain you so much?"
"Sorry I have qualms about sending our father to jail -- I thought you were the moral one."
"That's funny, I thought you'd be used to hanging people out to dry by now. When was the last time you talked to Lex?"
Nathan doesn't know what to say to that.
Nathan 1, Peter 1.
Another quarter, another four beers, and the silence between them is eerily comforting. At least there's no blood. They always know just the right buttons to push. They can be easy with each other or they can go for the jugular. Nathan doesn't have this with anybody else.
"Do you tell her you love her?"
Round three.
"Do I tell who I love her?" Nathan asks by rote. He's a sucker for punishment. At least he is if it's by Peter's hand.
"Heidi." Peter plays along. He never seems to get it.
"That's between my wife and I."
"So that's a yes."
"No, that's a mind your own fucking business."
"You've never told me you love me."
"Jesus, are we back to this again? Didn't you get over this when you were still in footie pyjamas?"
"Why are you so repressed?"
"Why are you such a hippie dipshit?"
"Why can't you just say it?"
"I'm your brother," Nathan grits out. "I shouldn't have to tell you these things."
Nathan can feel Peter stiffening beside him. "You're my brother -- that's exactly why you're supposed to tell me these things."
Nathan rolls his eyes. "You'll get over it."
"What if I don't? What if I spend the rest of my life thinking that the person I respect the most in the world doesn't care at all?"
Nathan rubs his forehead. "You can't look to me for your vindication, Peter -- you have to do stuff on your own."
"I thought that's what big brothers were for -- moral support."
Nathan shakes his head. Peter has always wanted these big statements from him, but that's not what Nathan does.
Just because Nathan doesn't say it, doesn't make it any less true.
Sometimes Peter doesn't get it.
Sometimes Nathan can't believe they're related at all.
Peter sits up and pulls his sneakers out from underneath the table. "I have to go," he says abruptly, but he takes forever to put on his shoes and leave. If he's waiting on Nathan, he'll be waiting a long time.
Nathan's still sitting in front of the TV long after Peter's gone.
If it were anybody else Nathan wouldn't care about what just transpired –- only Peter could drive Nathan crazy and break his heart. Sometimes he wonders who is supposed to be looking after whom after all.
-end-
Beta by
serialkarma, who is most awesome, like, all the time. ♥![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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