Heroes - L'Amour N'est Pas Tout (Peter/Nathan, NC-17)

[hackthis_archive]

This story is dedicated to antheia who kept poking at me to tell her more and more about the concept until it was like I had written it anyway. The beta was done by serialkarma who's been putting up with my OCD ways for a really fucking long time, so even when I irritate the crap out of her with my thirty copies of the same thing, I know she still likes me.

Heroes
Peter Petrelli/Nathan Petrelli
Through 'Six Months Earlier'
Rated NC-17

L'Amour N'est Pas Tout




It takes Peter a minute to decide whether or not to open the door. Not a full minute, but several long seconds definitely go by while he's peering into the peephole and thinking about whether to pretend he's not at home. But John Lee Hooker is singing about Jesse James on his iPod, which is competing with the TV's white noise and that's probably giving him away.

Nathan eyes are dark in the tiny glass and he has stubble dotting his jaw. When Peter finally does open the door, there's a moment of silent communication before either of them speak; talking is just a formality.

"Hey," Nathan says finally.

"Hey," Peter replies, shifting the paper towels from one hand to the other to pull up his sweatpants. He blocks the doorway with his body while he waits to see how this is going to play out.

"I brought you something," Nathan's smile is wan. At best it's half-assed. Peter looks down at the brown-paper bag Nathan's clutching and shakes his head, dust motes fall on his nose and make him sneeze.

He's been cleaning all day and all he can smell is Windex and laundry detergent. His hands are pink from chemicals, and so far today he's washed six loads of laundry. He didn't even know he had that many clothes. He also has paper cuts from finally throwing away the last two months of The Times. He doesn't think his apartment was this clean when he moved in in the first place. It's like a whole new start. Again.

"You brought me a paper bag," Peter says dryly. "I think those stopped being entertaining when I was five."

Nathan's lips turn up at the corners slightly. "Nine," he corrects mildly. "You liked blowing them up and then popping them. You used to scare the crap out of Mariel." Mariel was Peter's second nanny. She used to talk to him in Spanish until his Spanish got better than his English and his mother made her leave.

Peter hums noncommittally. The asshole thing doesn't really work for him, but he's trying. Except that this is them, and when Nathan licks his lips he looks off, and Peter's chest clenches painfully. He finds himself swinging the door open with a sigh. He waves Nathan through with the paper towels, making sure to keep his bare feet away from Nathan's perfectly polished shoes.

Nathan pauses in the middle of the living room and looks around curiously. "Jesus, Pete, you didn't tell me you got robbed."

Peter snorts. "Shut up, smart ass," he says, whacking Nathan with the paper towels as he goes to turn off Percy Sledge singing about when a man loves a woman.

Nathan chuckles and Peter shakes his head, watching Nathan hang up his coat on the wall and kick off his shoes. He drops down on Peter's sofa after setting the paper bag on the coffee table, resting his head against the back of the sofa before closing his eyes. He's wearing a Princeton tee shirt he once bought for Peter and a pair of faded khakis.

If Nathan didn't look so tired, he'd look ten years younger, but he still looks better than the last time Peter saw him. Of course the last time Peter saw him was eight days ago at the hospital where Heidi was recuperating after the accident.

Peter doesn't know what he said or what he offered. He knows he said something about Nathan's scars healing, but Nathan just glared. "Heidi, has physical therapy tonight," he said as though Peter were actively trying to keep them apart.

"You're not going to do her any good if you fall apart," Peter had snapped back.

"Don't you ever tell me what my wife needs."

"Well, what about you need?"

"And you would know what I need?" Nathan retorted.

Peter had opened his mouth, but in the face of Nathan's glowering and what went unsaid, he shook his head. "Fuck this," he'd said curtly before walking out.

The more he tried to understand Nathan, the more Nathan bared his teeth. It hadn't been that way before -- but talking about before the car accident -– before his dream -- was like saying before their dad had died, and that was another life altogether.

Unless this is just more of the same.

So, Peter watches Nathan for several moments, the circles under his eyes, the complete surrender of his shoulders to the back of Peter's sofa, and it makes him want to hit something. It would be nice if just once Nathan let him help. If just once Nathan let Peter take care of him for a change. Instead Peter finds himself crossing the room and picking up the paper bag. It rustles slightly when he opens it and he looks at the contents inquisitively.

A bottle of Jose Cuervo gold and three limes.

Oh, well, this should be good.

When he pulls the bottle all the way out of the bag, he looks up to find Nathan grinning at him. It's not a full grin, more like the ghost of what could be one, and Peter chuckles. "I'll get the shot glasses," he says, setting the bottle down.

Nathan's eyes crinkle around the corners. "Don't forget the salt," he commands.

Peter tosses one of the limes at his head. "Right, because I couldn't just go back to the kitchen to get it."

The floorboards are cool underneath Peter's feet, and the linoleum still smells of Mr. Clean. In the last two days Peter's discovered the Zen of washing dishes and singing along to Frank Sinatra, but in all the cleanliness it takes him a minute to remember where he keeps the glasses. When he opens the cabinet all he sees are mismatched plates and chipped mugs advertising NYU and the US Navy.

There's a soft staticky crooning coming from beside the towel he uses as a dish rack, and after he retrieves the shot glasses (part of a set of six and now down to three) and a half-full container of Morton's salt, he turns off the music.

Nathan's relaxed a little if the sprawl of his legs is anything to go by, and he's got the remote control in his hand. "Five minutes and already you're playing couch commando?" Peter complains dropping the glasses and the salt on Nathan's lap.

Nathan smirks as he hands him the limes. "There's a Godfather marathon on AMC," he says solicitously and Peter's laugh is more like a bark.

"Oh, well, we can't miss that," Peter says selflessly. He owns The Godfather. Nathan owns The Godfather. And yet, they always watch it when it’s on TV. It's tradition; and even as he cuts the limes on a plate, he can flawlessly pick up the dialogue.

Or he can until he gets lime juice in his paper cuts and has to suck on his index finger to take away some of the sting. "Fuck," he mutters.

"Don't bleed all over the limes," Nathan calls across the room, and Peter turns around and flips him the bird. Nathan snorts. "Seriously," he continues cracking the label on the tequila, "are you okay?"

"Paper cut," Peter says simply before going back to the limes. He can feel Nathan's eyes on the back of his neck and it makes his ears go hot.

When he turns back around Nathan's wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb. "Jesus, you couldn't wait five seconds?" Peter nags as he walks back into the living room. Nathan's response is a grin at full power, and Peter laughs. "I can see it's going to be a long afternoon, should I call for a pizza?"

"And Mom said you couldn't be trained," Nathan mocks as Peter slides the plate of lime slices onto the table.

"Yeah, well, Mom wanted me to be a mini-you," Peter says, stepping over Nathan's sprawled legs and dropping down onto the sofa beside him.

Peter's body applauds in universal approval of this position; it's the first time he's sat down since he decided to clean the entire apartment at five o'clock this morning in a fit of insomnia. It's now close to three in the afternoon, and he leans back into the feel of Nathan's hand on the nape of his neck, short nails ruffling his hair.

"You could never be a mini-me," Nathan says.

"I know, I'm way too good looking."

Nathan scoffs and smacks the back of Peter's head. "Shut up and drink, smart ass."

Peter laughs even as Nathan fills their glasses. Picking up the salt, he licks his hand and wrinkles his nose. He needs to wash his hands, they taste like lime and Windex. He'll just have this shot first. Except that one shot becomes two, becomes three.

After the fourth shot, Peter remembers he has to wash his hands, but when he gets to his feet he can't remember why he needs to wash his hands and sits back down.

Nathan looks at him curiously. "Going somewhere?"

Peter rubs his chest, his finger burns, and then he remembers his hands. "Yeah, I need to wash my hands."

Nathan raises an eyebrow. "When did you become such a clean freak? Is this some new OCD thing I should be worried about?"

Peter purses his lips. "Shut up."

Nathan laughs. "Oooh, the sharp comeback, Pete, it burns."

Peter makes sure to knee Nathan in the thigh when he gets up and climbs over him. He could just walk around the coffee table, but what's the point in all of that?

After he washes his hands, he dries them on his shirt because it's dirty anyway, and goes back to the sofa. On the TV Michael's having dinner with McClusky and Sollozzo, and in Peter's apartment Nathan's lined up another round of shots.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to get me drunk," Peter hiccups. Nathan does something that might be a leer and Peter hiccups again. "Okay."

Nathan cracks up. "I don't have to get you drunk."

"Really?" Peter mocks.

Three shots later, Michael's in Italy, and Peter's sprawled against the sofa, his shoulders and thighs pressing again Nathan's in a battle for room. He's boneless and half-hard, and he shifts slightly when Nathan's arm stretches along the back of the sofa.

Peter didn't think guys in their late 30s still made moves like this, but he falls into Nathan's side anyway when Nathan's fingers tangle in his hair to urge him along. Nathan smells like limes and soap, and he's warm.

The movie moves along, Michael gets married and then his wife gets blown up, and Peter doesn't even realize he's shifted his entire body against Nathan's side until he feels Nathan's stubble against his temple, nuzzling in some semblance of affection. Peter's cock stirs in his sweatpants in anticipation of something he'd thought had died.

"Pete." There's an uncertain tone to Nathan's voice, and Peter doesn't know if Nathan's asking or telling, but he's tired of feeling like he's doing something wrong by wanting to be strong for Nathan just for once.

The idea of him straddling Nathan worked out a lot better in theory that it did in practice, if only because he kicks one of the shot glasses onto the floor.

Nathan blinks up at Peter stretched out above him, and Peter shrugs. "Oops," he says, his hands on the sofa on either side of Nathan's head.

Nathan shakes his head and his left hand comes down on Peter's hip. If he's going to try and move Peter there's going to be a fight, but instead Nathan rubs his own mouth with his free hand. "Peter, I –"

I'm sorry. I can't do this. I love you. I don't love you. Pete doesn't want to hear any of it. Or maybe he wants to hear all of it. Instead he leans down and kisses Nathan hard. No explanations. No justifications. Just this, right now. Wet heat and Peter pressing kiss after kiss against Nathan's lips. He licks and nips, tasting granules of salt, his hands cupping Nathan's jaw and trying to coax him to let Peter in.

Nathan's other hand comes down on Peter's hip and instead of pushing, he pulls Peter closer, his mouth opening under Peter's assault, and this –- this is what Peter's been trying to say. They can have this. It's okay. Even if everything changes they can still have each other.

Peter's hands get tangled in Nathan's hair, in trying to control the kiss, in trying to control Nathan. Nathan lips are soft but his teeth are sharp, and every kiss is like being devoured whole. He doesn't kiss, he attacks, and Peter fights back. Not always, but today, today he wants to do to Nathan what Nathan does to him.

Peter can feel Nathan's erection underneath him and he grinds his hips down, wanting, desperate to make this right for them. Peter gasps against Nathan's mouth as he thrusts upward against Peter. And then it happens again and again. They're dry humping like two teenagers, and Peter pulls back, his heart hammering as he pants for air.

Nathan's eyes are huge, more open than they've been all afternoon, and their hands get tangled as they both try to yank Peter's undershirt over his head.

Nathan bats at Peter's hands and Peter bats back until he decides to let Nathan have his way. Even when things change, they're still the same, and when Peter's shirt sails somewhere over his head this nervous laugh escapes from his throat. It dies off abruptly at the hungry look on Nathan's face.

Every muscle in Peter's body tenses as Nathan eyes him, his gaze like fingers on Peter's stomach and ticklish hands ghosting over his ribs.

Peter's nipples harden from just a look, and he shudders. This is what Nathan does him. Peter's entire body is attuned to what Nathan wants, and he twitches when Nathan cups the back of his neck and pulls him in for another kiss.

These kisses are more insistant than the last set, and Peter nips at Nathan's bottom lip sharply, soothing it with his tongue before nipping again. Nathan pushes him away, grinning brightly at Peter's assertiveness, his hands rubbing up and down Peter's sides in approval. When Nathan's hand cups him through his sweatpants, Peter exhales sharply. "Fuck," he hisses.

"C'mon," Nathan coaxes, his smile is all white teeth, and Peter growls in the back of his throat, diving in for more kisses as Nathan rubs his cock through his pants. Nathan's touches are maddeningly teasing, his free hand on Peter's back never quite enough contact, and Peter finds himself trying to anticipate each move Nathan makes.

"Fucking touch me," Peter demands against the column of Nathan's neck, and he whimpers when Nathan's hand slips under the waistband of his pants.

"Like this?" Nathan's voice curls around Peter like smoke, his breath brushing against the shell of Peter's ear as his hand wraps around Peter's cock and begins to jerk him off.

Peter makes some sibilant response that might be 'yes' but he can't really tell because he's thrusting into Nathan's fist, and Nathan's urging him on. Peter's hips piston raggedly, their kisses are just frenzies of tongues and teeth and lips, and Nathan strokes Peter to a cacophony of the sofa squeaking and hollering from the TV.

Nathan's thumb is doing these amazing things to the head of Peter's cock and when his climax sparks in the base of his spine, Peter pulls back just for a moment because he wants Nathan to see this.

To see him. See them.

The last parts of his orgasm are almost an afterthought because he's busy scrabbling at Nathan's khakis and Nathan's thumb is rubbing at his mouth, leaving wet smears. One day Peter's going to give Nathan the sort of blowjob that leaves him limp on the floor, but Nathan never seems to want that from him. Nathan always wants to look at his face, and right now Peter's sweaty and flushed and limber.

When he insinuates his hand down Nathan's boxers, Nathan's cock is damp and sticky in his hand. Peter can feel the elastic of Nathan's boxers resisting against his wrist, and he jerks Nathan off with long, fast pulls, reveling in Nathan arching up off the sofa. Seeing Nathan like this, shirt rucked up his stomach and gasping for air, exposed only for Peter's eyes is like coming all over again.

Peter crowds Nathan, hovering over him and urging him on with whispers and promises and all the things that he's never supposed to say. And when Nathan comes, Peter kisses him again because this is all he's ever craved.

He knows that nobody else understands Peter's need for Nathan's approval or why Nathan insists on always cleaning up Peter's messes, but nobody ever said love made sense. As far as Peter can tell most of the time it sucks. But sometimes, like right now, when Peter can feel Nathan's heart racing underneath him, and Nathan's petting Peter's hair like he's the only thing that counts, Peter thinks that in the end, it all kind of evens out.

It takes him a minute to realize Nathan's asking him something, because his voice is muffled by Peter's hair. "Huh?" Peter asks distractedly.

"The pizza," Nathan repeats. "When's the food arriving?"

Oh, that's what Peter was supposed to do before the drinking began. "I forgot."

"You forgot?" Peter can hear the incredulous tone in Nathan's voice.

"Sorry, I was too busy getting drunk," Peter gripes, whapping Nathan lightly on the stomach.

Nathan sighs audibly. "You're fucking useless," he says, still petting Peter's hair.

Peter turns his head slightly; the phone is two feet away. As soon as he has his coordination he'll move to get it. "I bet you say that to all your brothers," he mumbles into Nathan's shoulder.

He can feel it when Nathan chuckles. "Thank God that I only have one."

"Yeah," Peter mocks, "I know how you hate to share."

"Like anyone else could handle you."

"I think you're the problem child here," Peter corrects.

Nathan's chuckle becomes a full-fledged laugh. "Deluded and absent-minded. I told Mom to return you, but she didn't listen."

"Which is the best thing that ever happened to you." Peter pulls away, feeling mildly insulted.

Nathan's hand is warm when he touches Peter's jaw. "Yeah, it was."

Peter freezes for a moment, but his smile says it all. "Told you so."




-end-

+ Dedicated to antheia and all you awesome people who keep on feeding my dirty!bad!wrong! addiction with icons and commentary transcripts and purple sparkly pens.

+ Beta by serialkarma, who sometimes gets fed up with my inability to stop tweaking stuff, but loves me anyway. Remaining fuck-ups by me.

+ The title was taken from me re-watching the pilot in French. This is what Mama Petrelli says when Peter insists that Nathan loves him. Thanks slodwick!

Comments

[inimicallyyours.livejournal.com]

OMG. That sound *right there*, was just me, picking my jaw up off the floor.

I don't really have words yet, but this is hot and twisted and really just feels like them: twisted and hot and right. I'm not really being very eleoquent right now, but that's because you've fried my brain completely with the images you wrote.

[hackthis.livejournal.com]

I don't really have words yet, but this is hot and twisted and really just feels like them: twisted and hot and right. I'm not really being very eleoquent right now, but that's because you've fried my brain completely with the images you wrote.

Hot, twisted and right. Yeah. I totally have a lifetime subscription to that magazine. Seriously though, I'm thrilled that you liked this so much, thank you.

[askmehow.livejournal.com]

I'm at work, which means I have at least another hour until I read this, but YAY, new Zahra-fic! It makes me grin.

[hackthis.livejournal.com]

Aw, I'm glad.

[norah.livejournal.com]

Oh my God, you weren't kidding about the body shots. GUH.

Okay, Kring - ready, set, GO! *waits expectantly for next Monday*

[hackthis.livejournal.com]

You know, after I posted this I realized there was licking and sucking, but no actual body shots. I will just have to suffer along with the image in my head of Peter licking salt off of Nathan's finger. *blinks* Yeah, worked for me.

[sarkastic.livejournal.com]

But sometimes, like right now, when Peter can feel Nathan's heart racing underneath him, and Nathan's petting Peter's hair like he's the only thing that counts, Peter thinks that in the end, it all kind of evens out.
YES! This is so perfect and it feels so genuinely Nathan and Peter that I feel like I'm watching the show. (If only!)

[hackthis.livejournal.com]

The day this shows up on the TV, I will send Tim Kring a magnum of champagne.

[slodwick.livejournal.com]

Man. Fandom is ruining me.

Your icon is awesome.

[hackthis.livejournal.com]

You know this never would've been possible without you. So, really, you are the font of all evil. Well done! *vbg*

[kelly-girl.livejournal.com]

I got really excited when I saw your name and a new story. I may have made dolphin like noises.

I love this, the images of them in Peter's too clean apartment getting drunk and Nathan with his hand on the back of Peter's couch until Peter is crowded next to him. I loved the kissing and the sex and just them being together in any form.

Easy after sex banter between them is a beautiful thing.

[hackthis.livejournal.com]

I got really excited when I saw your name and a new story. I may have made dolphin like noises.

LMFAO. That's just -- that's so special right there. *cracks up*

[romancandles.livejournal.com]

Oh YOU. Just when I think I can't like Heroes more, you go and write Petrellicest. Sex--totally hot, of course. Way to go with the porn--although Nathan doesn't really strike me as a boxer guy whatsoever (is it weird that I actually paused mid-read to think about that?). I liked the repeated assertion of their codependence and how badly Peter wants to be there for Nathan the way Nathan's always been there for him.

Also, the addition of unshaven Nathan? BONUS.

Conclusion: you make me fear writing the Petrellis because you're so good.

[hackthis.livejournal.com]

Unshaven Nathan is like manna from heaven. Of course that whole episode on Monday was clearly just a love letter from Tim Kring. I love you too, Tim! Now make with the more Nathan! Also, I was going to say other things but then I started thinking about Nathan in his underwear, because if he doesn't wear boxers that leaves y-fronts, which frankly, okay, I know he's a control freak and all, but I find a little 'yick' and COMMANDO! Commando would make the baby hackthis very happy. Judging by the flying scene, well, I have no idea because all I saw with the flying was Naked!Nathan and that Adrian Pasdar has a really tight ass. *pauses* What were we talking about? What about boxer briefs? Can we get a compromise here? Tim, can we get some canon verification?!

[aimless-words.livejournal.com]

this is just all kinds of perfect. ♥

and I'm kind of stupidly in love with Peter hiccuping. um.

[hackthis.livejournal.com]

It's the little things that make me like Peter. He's totally an adorable drunk. Except for when Nathan's being an ass and then he's just a really pissy irritable drunk, but who wouldn't be?

[storydivagirl.livejournal.com]

This was so great. I loved every second of it!

[hackthis.livejournal.com]

Aw, thank you!

[mskatej.livejournal.com]

That was wonderful. I love the banter between them.

You just write so beautifully!

[hackthis.livejournal.com]

Okay, that little emoticon is adorable. The words I have for your icon tend to start with 'Hot Damn' and end with YES! *sigh* I love The Petrelli Show.

[svmadelyn.livejournal.com]

Aww, Peter didn't expect it at the end! *happy*

[hackthis.livejournal.com]

I confess that I am completely enamoured of The Petrelli Show. Other people? What other people?

[julietbunny.livejournal.com]

Oh. My. God.
Firstly, the idea of Peter having a cleaning day is both appropriate and somehow ADORABLE. Second, all the music you listed is teh love and totally what Peter listens to, whether he knows it or not. Thirdly, GUH. Especially Seeing Nathan like this, shirt rucked up his stomach and gasping for air. GUH.

This might be my favoritest Petrelli fic evers.

[hackthis.livejournal.com]

I'm so pleased you liked it. I actually took some time to think about what I thought Peter would listen to musically. I think he's a mix of old school blues and Rat Pack, which he grew up on with his family, and the punk and rock and he played to annoy his mom and Nathan, because really, there's nothing like The Clash to completely disrupt a dinner party.

[darksylvia.livejournal.com]

Oh! Their interaction is sooo goood in this story.

[hackthis.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

[http://users.livejournal.com/_blip_/]

Peter crowds Nathan, hovering over him and urging him on with whispers and promises and all the things that he's never supposed to say. And when Nathan comes, Peter kisses him again because this is all he's ever craved.

Guh. Just, wonderful, glorious GUH.

Maybe I'll get fired for reading this at work, but GOD-- so worth it.

[hackthis.livejournal.com]

LOL. Don't get in trouble. Nathan wouldn't want that.

[gene-lee.livejournal.com]

Aw, you get love just for the clever title alone.

I know fics that deal with 'ships' like these can be difficult for some readers, but it works here, because everything you lay out is so sharply in character. And you layer that and other details so well. Its just a nice touch you have with your stories. I've really enjoyed them.

[hackthis.livejournal.com]

You are so very kind, it truly makes me very happy to know that you enjoyed this. Thank you.

[raihon.livejournal.com]

This is high quality smut here: sparse yet evocative, et tres chaud!

Thanks for sharing.

[hackthis.livejournal.com]

You are very welcome; I'm so pleased you liked it.

[tsu-chan55.livejournal.com]

guh. oh wow. Seeing Nathan like this, shirt rucked up his stomach and gasping for air, exposed only for Peter's eyes is like coming all over again. <- totally hot XD

[hackthis.livejournal.com]

Yeah, they are pretty damn hot aren't they? ;)

[burningchaos.livejournal.com]

Holy Goddess...I love this.

[hackthis.livejournal.com]

I'm so glad!

[luciamad.livejournal.com]

I rather love demanding Peter. Almost as much as I love unexpectedly expressive Nathan and the effect that has on Peter.

Nathan's hand is warm when he touches Peter's jaw. "Yeah, it was."
Peter freezes for a moment, but his smile says it all. "Told you so."

I think, though, that my favorite thing is that Nathan always wants to look at Peter and how that always ruins Peter's perfect plans.

Nathan always wants to look at his face, and right now Peter's sweaty and flushed and limber.

Yeah.

[hackthis.livejournal.com]

Okay, I just have to say that Peter's mouth is your icon is so impossibly peach-colored and, well, *kissable* that I keep thinking, wait, let me rub that lipstick off his mouth. *cough* What? Seriously though, I'm so pleased you enjoyed reading this, thank you!

[hackthis.livejournal.com]

Take deep breaths. It works for me :)

[sparky77.livejournal.com]

Oh, Pookie! You are the queen of adorable wrongness! That was awesome. And the image of litte Peter and Nathan playing with paper bags is going to keep me smiling for a very long time.

[hackthis.livejournal.com]

You called me Pookie. I have to go crack up now, but I'm so pleased you liked it, sweetie, yay!

[linaerys.livejournal.com]

OMG, that was hot and painfully intense. Partially that's just THEM, but a lot of it is what you do with them. Bookmarking to read again and again, and for inspiration. Whew!

[hackthis.livejournal.com]

I'm so very pleased you enjoyed reading it, thank you for commenting!

[jakrar.livejournal.com]

Love this! Very hot, and both Nathan and Peter seem very much in character for after the accident. And, having OCD myself, I really had to grin at Nathan's OCD line. I hope you keep writing this pairing; their relationship has so many twists and turns to explore!

[morgaine22.livejournal.com]

YAY! This is fantastic! The dynamic of their relationship is spot on. Thanks so much for sharing!

[sarahphym.livejournal.com]

guh. *melts*

that was lovely.