hackthis_archive | Heroes – Speed Dial. No. 2

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ethrosdemon and ~~no fucking vegetarians are allowed because meat is love and if you roll up in here talking "Meat is murder" bullshit I'll cut you myself and give your brain to Sylar [/Tony Bourdain]. Ahem.~~ I'm sure they're nicer about that shit than I am, especially since I'm a lazy motherfucker and only cook if at gun-point, but if those two are doing something together it's bound to be good for shits and giggles. ETA: *sigh* I have been informed that I am not allowed to talk shit about the vegetarians --

serialkarma never lets me have any fun, although I should point out that if you think I'm seriously discriminating against you you have no sense of humor and shouldn't be here anyway.

Heroes
Peter/Nathan
Spoilers through 1.22 'Landslide'
Rated PG, if you ignore the incest thing.
1000+ words for

heidi8 and

antheia.

Speed Dial No. 2

It starts out by accident, like these things always do. Peter and Nathan aren't an accident -- well, Peter has his suspicions about his own birth based on their age gap -- but that's not what this is about.

This is about a message on Peter's answering machine.

This is about a solicitation from his local congressional candidate reminding him to vote on November 8th for Nathan Petrelli.

At first Peter thinks it's a joke. At first Peter thinks it's just Nathan harassing him for not coming to campaign headquarters, or not getting out and spreading the family name, and then Peter remembers that he's in hiding. Banishment. He's not supposed to be getting out the vote. He's suicidal. He's depressed. He's dangerous, and depression runs in their family.

The person he loves most in this world sold him out for three percentage points in the polls and a few lines from his speechwriter. His beloved older brother can't even call himself to ask for Peter's vote.

It's not Nathan, it's just Nathan's voice.

The recording doesn't even start at the beginning, it just picks up in at the middle like it couldn't be bothered to wait for Peter's answering machine to beep.

They can look into the darkness and find hope.

Peter looks around the darkness of his apartment and hits the LCD delete button before going off to the bathroom. He doesn't need hope; he needs a shower.

The message is back on Peter's answering machine days later, and Peter wonders if this is some sort of sick joke. If this is his punishment because he went to Texas and died, and Nathan had to come and get him and bring him back to life. He wonders what he did to have Nathan everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Claude said -– Claude says. Claude doesn't understand about Peter and Nathan though. No one does. Even they don’t really understand at this point anymore. All Peter knows is that he didn't agree to a separation -- Nathan said this was how it had to be and Peter disagreed.

Peter always disagrees.

He's sore from 'practice' with Claude, and every fibre of his body aches, this is obviously why his fingers slip on the delete button and press 'play' again.

Hi, this is Nathan Petrelli and I'm running for Congress...

Hi.

Hi.

Good-bye.

Nathan is running for Congress. Nathan is running away from Peter. Nathan is with Monty and Simon and Heidi and their mother, and this is the right thing because what they have is wrong. Not all of it, just some of it. Or not all of it, just most of it. Nathan believes he can make a better future; Peter believes in destiny. Peter believes that Nathan's destiny is taking him further away from Peter, and Nathan's voice is on Peter's answering machine saying, You know, I believe our children deserve a better future.

The night that Nathan comes back to him, Peter deletes the message from his answering machine. Except that Nathan doesn't stay the night. He hardly even stays the evening, and then Peter's in the shower: cursing Nathan and cursing the fact that the one thing he wants the most, Nathan continues to deny him.

Help me build this brighter future, says Nathan's campaign message, and Peter drips water through the entire apartment, from the bathroom to the living room, his hair letting rivulets run down his back to the waist of his towel. His laptop is perched on his coffee table, downloading the last couple episodes of Doctor Who, and then Peter's on the Vote Petrelli website, looking for something to do. Something to make it better.

He picks up the phone automatically and dials 660-833-4191.

Hello, this is Nathan Petrelli...

Peter calls the campaign hotline when he's confused. When he's depressed. When he's lonely and angry and Nathan is fundraising or working late or spending quality time with his family for the press and his potential constituents. Except that Peter is his constituent too. Doesn't Peter deserve time just like everyone else?

Thank you for your time.

The day that Simone dies, Peter calls Nathan's campaign hotline twenty-seven times. His mobile phone reads like 660-833-4191 is actually 1-900-Nathan-Call-Me. Sometimes all Peter really needs is Nathan's voice in his ear. The words aren't important as long as the tone soothes Peter's nerves, as long as Nathan can make Peter think everything will be fine. Things don't have to be fine, Peter just needs to believe it for a little while. Except Nathan's voice isn't enough -- it never really is -- and then Peter's in Nathan's office at Petrelli campaign headquarters, because there is nothing better than the real thing.

There's something about dying -- again -- that changes Peter's attitude. There's Sylar and Mohinder and glass and pain, and then there's this white nothingness full of Nathan's campaign promises on an answering service. A disembodied voice in Peter's head says, Let's show them all what we're capable of.

It's late at night when the knock comes on Peter's bedroom door. He's lying on his bed fully clothed and waiting on something he can't explain or describe. Peter's never been good at describing Nathan, and he hasn't slept at his parents -– mother's -- home in months -– years really.

Peter tends to like to sleep in his own bed, and this isn't his bed anymore, it's just the place he grew up, full of greying stuffed animals, dusty trophies and faded memories that were never as big or shiny as Nathan's.

The stars on his ceiling haven't glowed in forever -- or maybe he just stopped paying attention. Nathan clears his throat from the doorway, but Peter knows he never said, "Come in."

"Your phone," Nathan says by way of explanation, waving the small black device in his hand.

Peter blinks. Being dead is tiring. "My phone what?"

"You left it downstairs."

"I didn't know congressial candidates delivered." Peter props himself up on his elbows as Nathan slides inside and shuts the door behind him.

"I only make special deliveries," Nathan says easily, dropping the phone by Peter's hip.

"I could've just gotten it in the morning," Peter points out. "I don't think Claire or mom are going to steal it in the middle of the night."

There's something that's not coming easily to Nathan, Peter can see it in the tightness of his eyes. Peter can feel his eyebrow lifting in anticipation. "You know you can call me anytime," Nathan begins, Peter hedges.

"Really? I thought I needed permission from a parent or guardian first."

Nathan's mouth thins into a line. "You've been calling my campaign line a lot."

Peter could say a thousand things; he chooses none of them. "Your point being what?"

"You could just call me," Nathan says flatly.

Peter snorts. "Could I, Nathan? Really?"

Peter's leaning back on his elbows now, looking up at the stars and Nathan's chin and a thousand things that aren't ever going to be what he thought they would.

Nathan's voice is soft when he speaks, but his hand lands heavy on Peter's shoulder. "You can always call me, Pete, I'm always here."

"Don’t make promises you can't keep," Peter says quietly.

"I can't do this without you."

Peter tilts his head to the side, finally meeting Nathan's eyes. "I stand corrected -– don't make promises you won't keep."

Nathan's hand lifts away until Nathan's rubbing at his forehead tiredly. It's the last thing Peter's expecting when Nathan bends down and kisses him on the forehead -– but he's not surprised when Nathan turns to leave without saying good-bye.

"There's a reason that number is speed dial number two," Peter blurts out suddenly.

Nathan pauses with his hand on the door, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Peter concedes. "First place is already taken."

Nathan waits a beat. It's like a song they wrote a long time ago and forgot all the words to. Or maybe it's like a script, a story, a recorded message that they can call anytime they want to if they're feeling alone. "By who?"

Peter snorts and collapses back onto his bed. "By you."

He doesn't have to look over to see Nathan leave; Peter has always known very well when Nathan is gone.

-end-

This entire story was inspired by 660-833-4191. Call it. It'll make your day. Thanks

heidi8.

Art by

issaro.

'Speed Dial No. 2' by Zero 7 can be found here or on I've Got Another Confession to Make: A Petrelli Brothers Mix by

slodwick and

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