At Four in the Morning
by Michalyn
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Nathan + Peter

Nathan went to the kitchen and made coffee. The brew was black and potent—as bitter as the cards fate had dealt him. Two deaths in two short weeks. No, Heidi had not died, but Nathan knew his marriage had perished in the car crash along with his wife’s ability to walk. And now, his father was gone too. It was a given he would step in to fill his shoes. It was what the old man himself had groomed him for after all. Besides, Nathan had long taken up that role when his father was too busy to give a second thought to their mother or Peter. It was Nathan who dealt with his mother’s neuroses; Nathan who shielded Peter from his father’s censure. He’d always envisioned the day his father would officially bequeath the Petrelli legacy to him. Strange, how the honor of being the Petrelli patriarch had a hollow ring to it now.

Peter’s cupboards were stacked neatly, his kitchenware coded by color and size, and Nathan had no trouble finding two mugs. They clinked together as he set them on the counter. He poured the coffee into them, diluting one with milk and a generous amount of sugar. The milk was for Peter. His own cup he laced with whiskey.

“Here, take this. It’ll put some warmth in your veins.” Nathan nodded curtly towards his brother.

“Thanks.” Peter mumbled, wrapping his hands around the mug. His eyes were bloodshot as he looked up at Nathan. “So what are we going to do now?” he asked. There was a distinct tremor in his voice.

“What do you mean what are we going to do now?” Nathan demanded, irritated by Peter’s wide-eyed look. “We pick ourselves up, move on; forget about this whole Linderman thing.” Why did his brother always have to act so damned innocent? This whole nurse thing, his insistence on rebelling, his constant yearning to be loved…. When the hell would he grow up? Nathan had come to Peter with the news of their father’s death hoping for a shoulder to lean on. Peter loved their father, but it was not cruel to say that Nathan’s tragedy was doubled. The death, so soon on the heels of the accident had come just when Nathan did not think he could take any more. Yet, here he was being the strong one, protecting Peter all over again.

“But—”

“But nothing! The sooner you forget about that car and that dream you think you had, the better for all of us!”

“All right, all right, sorry man. I get it. I don’t want to fight with you on tonight of all nights,” Peter retorted. Whenever he was anxious or scared the corner of his bottom lip would poke out a little. It pouted now.

“Jesus. Come here.” Nathan ruffled Peter’s hair and pressed his brother to his chest. “We’ll get through this,” he vowed gruffly. “The best thing we can do is keep moving forward. For Mom, for Heidi, for everyone. It’s what Dad would have wanted.”

“I know,” Peter sighed. “I know.”

Nathan held his brother tightly to him. It was the only comfort he would allow himself, though his throat ached from suppressing the cry that even now threatened to claw its way past his control. They remained as they were, sipping coffee in the quiet of the apartment. Outside the window, traffic moved in a soundless stream of red lights. Better that Nathan could not hear the honking horns and roaring engines when Heidi’s desperate scream still had not stopped ringing in his ears. There was something strangely soothing about being aware of nothing but the ticking of the clock and the brush of Peter’s arm against his.

Nathan stared out of the window. Occasionally he rose to refill their mugs, but despite the continuous injections of caffeine, Peter stretched out on the couch and was soon fast asleep. Always the sensitive one, emotional upheavals left his brother drained. For his part, Nathan had not slept in two days. He was left to keep watch until finally even the silence got to him and he decided to go home to his wife and his children and another kind of pain. Nathan patted Peter lightly on the shoulder.

“Huh … what…?” His brother blinked sleepily.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed. Your back will thank me for it in the morning.”

Nathan wrapped an arm around Peter and hauled him to his feet. They shuffled to the bedroom and Nathan tugged Peter out of the suit he’d been wearing and tucked him into bed. He draped the jacket and trousers over the nearby chair then moved to the side of the bed. Peter had curled onto his side, one hand pillowed beneath his cheek.

His brother always seemed so young, so vulnerable…. and as always the instinctive urge to protect him welled up in Nathan’s breast. Peter annoyed him, baffled him exasperated him, yet he could never stay angry with him.

Nathan’s hand hovered above Peter’s hair. He leaned in, breathing in the scent of his brother’s shampoo, the slightly sour smell of coffee on his breath. There was a shadow of stubble on his cheeks but his chest was pale and smooth, the delicate points of his nipples a muted rose in the faint light from the window. Heat kindled in Nathan’s groin. A surge of desire so powerful burst through him that it left him gasping. He sank his hand into Peter’s hair. Groaning, he brushed his mouth over the fine arch of his brother’s cheekbone. It was only when Peter mumbled something incoherent and shifted restlessly that Nathan came to his senses.

Christ, what the fuck was he doing? Nathan jerked to his feet, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He fished for his keys. He should get home. He had gone too long without rest. Yes … that was it. He was already exhausted and at four in the morning everything seemed hazy and indistinct. Normal thoughts and desires bled together, creating urges by turns fantastic and perverse. Guilt, grief, the need to protect those most dear to him, a brother’s love—even these were not safe from distortion … from corruption. At least, that’s what Nathan told himself as closed the door to Peter’s apartment and walked briskly into the chill morning air. He didn’t stop to think about the fire that still burned through him or the fact that bending to Peter he had felt exactly as he had in the split second before the car crash when everything went black:

Panicked, terrified, helpless … yet on the verge of the most liberating flight.

End