hackthis_archive (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hackthis_archive) wrote2007-06-15 02:38 pm
hackthis_archive) wrote2007-06-15 02:38 pm
Entry tags:
Heroes - Finding Jim Morrison (Peter, Nathan PG)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
antheia is having an asstastic week. slodwick is uphappy. I said to myself, "Self, we should write something nice for our girls." This is not what me, myself or I was expecting.Heroes
Peter, Nathan, PG
A story in 60 minutes.
On Peter's sixth birthday, Nathan sends him on his first treasure hunt.
Go to the large oak in the backyard, the one that you tried to jump out of two weeks ago and skinned your knee. Pick up what you find there. Bring it to Tanya. She'll give you something else. Bring that to me, and I'll give you your present.
Peter doesn't know whether to be more excited that Nathan created this hunt for him, or that he gets a chance to show Nathan how good he is at following directions.
It's very important to Peter that Nathan be proud of him.
By the tree there is a red box wrapped with an orange ribbon. Peter's not tempted to open it. Not even a little bit. It doesn't mean he can't shake it though, but when he does there's no sound, which is rather disappointing. Peter brings the box to Tanya, and when she opens it, there's a gold key taped to the lid. That explains the lack of sound.
The key is tiny and dented. It doesn't look like the sort of thing that belongs to Nathan at all.
When Peter brings the key to Nathan, who is waiting in the drawing room, Nathan gives him a wry smile. "Did you open the box before you gave it to Tanya?"
Peter shakes his head wildly back and forth, his hair whipping across his face. Nathan smirks. "Did you try to open the box before you gave it to Tanya?" he corrects.
Peter shakes his head again. "You said not to."
Nathan's smirk turns into a wry smile. "Did you try to find out what was inside it at all?"
"I shook it," Peter confesses.
Nathan smiles. "You'll always tell me the truth, won't you?"
Peter nods. "Always."
Nathan nods back approvingly. "Good."
"Can I have my present now?" Peter asks boldly.
Nathan chuckles as he pulls out a battered chess set and presents it to Peter. "Do you have any idea how much effort I put into stuff for you?" Nathan asks as Peter studies the present thoughtfully. He's seen Nathan playing this with their father, but their father doesn't like it when Peter's around while they play this game.
Peter picks up one piece and then another and bangs them together. It makes a terrific noise. He bangs them together again and again, too busy banging the marble pieces together to listen to what Nathan's saying. Eventually he makes out the words 'sundaes' and 'New Jersey.'
"You're taking me for sundaes in New Jersey?" he pauses mid-bang.
Nathan shrugs. "There's this place I know, it's got a mural of Jim Morrison next to it. I think you'll like it."
"Who's Jim Morrison?" Peter asks, picking up his present and following hot on Nathan's heels as they walk to the garage.
Nathan stops by the hall closet to pick up a jacket for Peter. "Just some dead guy."
Peter nods thoughtfully. If Nathan says it, then it must be true. That's enough for him. "Okay."
For Peter's sixteenth birthday the hunt is a little more complicated. Nathan's out of the country on military business, and nobody's talked to him in weeks. Peter's not expecting a hunt at all, not with Nathan not in the country to plan it, but then the postcards start trickling in.
There are eight in all and they come to the house completely out of order:
(2) The hollow bottom has a key that fits a room on the third floor.
(7) When you find this key, send it back to me.
(5) Inside the floorboard there's a green box.
(3) Inside the room there's an old rocking horse.
(6) The green box has a key.
(4) The floorboard under the rocking horse is loose.
(1) There is a trophy in my room that has a hollow bottom. Find it.
(8) The key is to my old foot locker. It's not the present.
The last postcard arrives on Peter's birthday. There's no postmark, but Peter won't realize this until much later. He's far too busy trying to make sense of whatever Nathan's trying to tell him.
(1) There is a trophy in my room that has a hollow bottom. Find it. (2) The hollow bottom has a key that fits a room on the third floor. (3) Inside the room there's an old rocking horse. (4) The floorboard under the rocking horse is loose. (5) Inside the floorboard there's a green box. (6) The green box has a key. (7) When you find this key, send it back to me. (8) The key is to my old foot locker. It's not the present.
It only takes Peter a half-an-hour to do everything Nathan has said, but it occurs to him as he sits at the dining room table surrounded by postcards that now he's going to have to wait weeks for whatever his present is to arrive.
"Thanks a lot, Nate," he grumbles, slouching in his chair and running his fingers through his hair. "Just what I always wanted, to wait on you even more."
The hairs on the back of Peter's neck rise when someone makes a snorting noise behind him. "I see you're just as ungrateful as ever," a familiar voice says. "I really am going to have to break you of that habit."
Peter waits a beat before turning around. "Are you my present?" he asks saucily.
Nathan shakes his head as he drops his duffle bag on the floor. "You really are my brother, aren't you?"
Peter laughs as he gets to his feet to hug Nathan. "You wouldn't have it any other way."
Nathan cups Peter's cheek to hold him at arm's length and study him for a moment. Peter can feel his ears going hot under the appraisal. He always wants Nathan to be proud of him, no matter how old he is.
"No," Nathan admits finally, "I probably wouldn't."
For Peter's twenty-fifth birthday the hunt goes in reverse. Normally he has to bring the key to Nathan. Today, Nathan brings the key to him. Well, the white envelope under his door brings the key to him, and when Peter calls Nathan at work, his secretary answers.
"Nathan's in court today, Peter," Emily says, her voice occasionally being drowned out by yelling in the background. The DA's office normally sounds like the NASDAQ trading floor. "But he gave me a message for you."
Peter snorts as he digs around in his junk drawer for a pen to take down his instructions. "I bet he did," he says, looking for a piece of paper and giving up to take dictation on the palm of his hand. "Okay, let me have it."
Peter listens intently, the pen hovering above his hand, and when Emily stops talking Peter is more confused than ever. "Jim Morrison is dead," he points out. "And buried in Paris."
He can see Emily's shrug in his mind. "I'm just telling you what your brother said, and he said, 'Find Jim Morrison and you'll find your present.'"
Peter sighs. Find Jim Morrison in New York. Oh, that's not hard at all. And then he thinks about red boxes and sundaes and some dingy back alley diner that Nathan once took him to and it all makes sense.
"I get it," he tells Emily, dropping the pen on the counter and sticking the white envelope in his pocket. "I've got it," he corrects as he hunts around the apartment for his other Chuck Taylor.
"Well, I'm glad somebody does," she says good-naturedly before hanging up.
It takes Peter a little under two hours to find the right place. It doesn't help that he doesn't really have directions for the taxi driver, but he doesn't point this out until they're in Jersey proper, and then it's just vague memories and an increasingly irritated cab driver.
Truth be told, Peter sees Nathan on the side of the road before he sees anything else, and he gives the taxi driver an extra $20 because he knows the guy is going to curse him to death after Peter's gone.
Nathan raises an eyebrow as Peter crosses the road, leaning against the car behind him with a controlled sprawl that is all Petrelli.
Peter's scowl speaks volumes, "Do you know how hard it was for me to get here?"
Nathan smirks. "Well, then it's a good thing I got you a car for your birthday isn't it? Now you don't have to worry about things like taxis."
Peter blinks once, twice, and then looks past Nathan for the first time ever. The car is beautiful. It's just the sort of thing that Nathan would buy him. It's just the sort of car that Peter would want but never ask for.
"Did you bring the key?" Nathan asks. "If it were anybody else I'd assume so, but since this is you..."
Peter's too busy pushing Nathan out of the way and opening the door to reply. The interior of the car smells like leather and dust and mustiness and the best present ever, and Peter rests his head against the steering wheel to stop the dizziness.
"You did this for me?" he asks the dashboard incredulously before glancing upwards.
Nathan rolls his eyes. "Do you really think I'd do it for anybody else?"
Peter looks down at the steering wheel and then back up at Nathan. "No," he says with certainty. "You'd never do this for anybody else."
Nathan nods. "There are a lot of things I'd never do for anybody else -- don't forget that. Now can we go get your birthday sundae? I've been waiting on you forever."
"Forever, huh?" Peter asks, watching Nathan intently.
Nathan pauses for a moment before he replies. "Yeah. Forever."
 |
-end-
AN:: If you study the photo, you can see the mural of Jim Morrison on the building behind Milo's head.
Also, read
heidi8's lovely story about Wee!Peter and Teenage!Nathan. It gave me warm fuzzies and is awesome.![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Page 1 of 2