Fic: Shadow of You - Nathan/Peter - PG-13

[withimpunity]

Title: Shadow of You
Pairing: Peter/Nathan
Rating: PG-13
Words: 1548
Disclaimer: Heroes belongs to Tim Kring, NBC, and a bunch of people who aren't me.

December 23, 1986
7 years old

Peter's father's phone went off the moment the candles on Peter's birthday cake were lit.

"Sorry Peter," Maurice gave his son an apologetic smile and a pat on the head as he got up from the table. "I've got to take this one. "

Peter grimaced under the weight of his father's large hand on his head and frowned.

"Go ahead, Pete," Nathan said behind him, resting his hand on Peter's shoulder. "Make a wish."

When Peter closed his eyes he could still see his big brother, standing tall and confident.

I wish I could be just like Nathan, he silently chanted.

Peter opened his eyes and let out the breath he'd been holding, extinguishing the flames dancing on top of his seven blue and white striped candles.

"What'd you wish for, Pete?" Nathan asked, grinning as he took a seat next to Peter at the table and began cutting the first piece for him.

"Duh Nathan, I can't tell you," Peter stuck his tongue out at him. "Then it won't come true."

"Can't even tell your big brother?" Nathan asked, smearing butter cream icing down the bridge of Peter's nose.

"Especially not my big brother," Peter said and smashed his cake in Nathan's face.

December 23rd, 1995
16 years old

"What the hell were you thinking!" Nathan shouted as he grabbed Peter by his coat and threw him against the car. "You could have been killed!"

"What do you care?" Peter replied, slumping against the car as Nathan held him up. The bloody gash on Peter's forehead was dripping blood down the side of his face. If the ambulance didn't get here soon someone was getting sued in the morning.

"What do you mean, what do I care? Stop being melodramatic, Peter." Nathan said sternly, examining his wound. Stitches, at least eight, he suspected. Their mother was going to have an Italian fit when she saw what Peter had done, to himself and to the car they had just bought him for his sixteenth birthday.

"Really, Peter." Nathan said, his voice softening as he licked his finger and wiped the dried blood off of Peter's cheek. "Why did you do this? You're a smart kid. You know better."

Peter flinched under Nathan's touch and avoided his eyes. "When you lived at home, I was always in your shadow, but people still saw me. Now that you're gone..."

Nathan's face hardened. "Peter," He said quietly, tipping Peter's chin up, forcing their eyes to meet. "You did this to get my attention?"

Tears rolled freely out of the corner of Peter's eyes, their warm saltiness stinging the cuts on his cheek. "I miss my brother," He sniffled.

"I'm right here," Nathan whispered, smoothing his hand over Peter's hair. "Always."

December 23, 1997
18 Years Old

"Nathan? I think I'm drunk."

"Peter, I know you're drunk," Nathan said, supporting Peter's entire weight with his arm as he attempted to get him to the bedroom. "You just sang "I Feel Pretty" in front of everyone at your party and I had to stop you before you gave one of your cousins a lap dance."

"Was she pretty?" Peter looked up at him, eyes glazed over and blood shot, and attempted to grin but it didn't work out so well.

"She was a he, Pete," Nathan sighed, kicking the door open to the spare bedroom. He dropped Peter on the bed and stretched his arms out.

"S'not my room," Peter groaned, half hanging upside down off the edge of the bed.

"No it's not," Nathan replied gruffly. "You stumbling in drunk off your face at three in the morning would not go over well with Dad. Just be glad I came and checked on you."

"Mmmphst brofghgm." Peter said into the mattress.

"Sorry Pete, I don't speak drunk teenager. You'll have to speak up," Nathan said as he began to unlace Peter's boots.

"I said," Peter pushed himself up and pointed a wobbly finger at Nathan that landed somewhere in the vicinity of his right ear. "You always take care of me. You're the best big brother ever."

"Yeah, yeah. Hold still damn it," Nathan muttered, finding it difficult to pull Peter's shoes off when he wouldn't stop wiggling his feet.

"You're so nice," Peter grinned lazily and mussed Nathan's hair as he pulled off Peter's remaining shoe. "I love you."

"Now crawl in bed," Nathan said, ignoring Peter's drunken confessions as best he could. "You're going to feel like someone put your head in the microwave in the morning, so get some rest."

"Don't leave," Peter whimpered as he pulled the comforter against his chest, and Nathan paused at the doorway and sighed.

"What now?" He asked, glaring at Peter through the dim light the lamp beside the bed cast upon the room.

"Don't want to be alone," Peter mumbled. "Come sit with me?"

Nathan's heart clenched at how painful the words sounded coming from Peter's lips. Alone. Telling him no didn't even cross his mind. In a few short steps he had crossed the room, kicked off his shoes, and sat down on the bed next to Peter.

"You all right, Pete?" He asked softly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Peter's ear.

"Mmm," Peter replied, turning his face into Nathan's hand, smiling. "Love you, Nathan."

Nathan cupped Peter's innocent face in his palm as Peter's eyes closed. This was the brother he remembered; sweet, fragile, innocent. Not the one he had to rescue earlier from making a complete fool of himself, of their family, drowning in beer and tequila. He could only guess what had made Peter do these things, and it broke his heart because there was nothing he could do about it.

"I love you too, Pete," Nathan whispered, leaning down to brush his lips against the corner of Peter's mouth. He hadn't expected Peter to be lucid enough to hear him, so he definitely hadn't expected to feel Peter's long fingers curling around the back of his neck, or Peter's lips pressing against his own, or the soft moaning sound in the back of Peter's throat when Nathan accidentally used his tongue to wet his lips.

"Christ," Nathan muttered and pushed Peter away with a flat palm to the chest. "You are so fucking drunk."

"Yeah," Peter said and grinned knowingly up at Nathan. "I am. What's your excuse?"

December 23rd, 2001
22 Years Old

Peter opened the door to his apartment and let Nathan in, turning his back to him immediately.

"You missed the party," He said, waving his hand around to illustrate the lack of anyone else in his apartment. "As you can see."

"Peter-"

"I don't really care, Nathan," He replied shortly and there was an exhausted tone to his voice, the kind that said "we've been down this road before."

"You forgot about my birthday, you had to meet with a client, a trial ran over, I get it."

"You're not being fair, Pete," Nathan said, draping his tie on the back of Peter's dingy sofa. "If you'll let me explain-"

"Don't you get it?" Peter spun around, face contorted in repressed rage, and pushed Nathan against the wall. "I don't care what your explanation is. You haven't been to see me in months. I ask you to come this one time, for my fucking birthday, and you can't even do that. So I don't care anymore. Take your apology and your tie and get out."

Breathing heavily, Peter released the tight hold he had on Nathan's collar, but before he could turn and walk away, Nathan reached out and grabbed his arm, yanking him back against him. "Stop being so melodramatic," he smirked, and his lips crashed upon Peter's.

First, Nathan apologized to Peter without using words. He apologized with his mouth, tracing the contours of Peter's lips with his tongue, slipping it inside to taste and explore his mouth. He apologized with his hands on every inch of Peter's body, carefully popping each clear button on his shirt, pushing it open to feel Peter's flat, smooth chest beneath his skin. After he could feel Peter's heart beating underneath his fingertips, he apologized with words. I'm sorry, love you so much Peter, my Peter, until finally, Peter forgave him.

Peter's forgiveness was much like Nathan's apologies, only a bit more frantic. His tongue thrust into Nathan's mouth, urgent, possessive, as if it was a race to beat the clock. His hands grasped and reached at Nathan, needing to feel every inch of him, every molecule under his fingertips. His teeth pulled at Nathan's bottom lip and his fingers slid into Nathan's hair and twisted until finally, there was nothing left to forgive.

"I didn't forget," Nathan murmured as he cradled Peter against his chest. "It was just-"

"Work," Peter mumbled. "I know. It's okay."

"Do you want me to stay?" Nathan barely whispered, unsure if he wanted to know the answer.

"Do you want to stay?" Peter asked, lifting his head to look up into Nathan's hazel eyes with his own round, brown ones, the ones Nathan had never been able to say no to. When Nathan closed his eyes and pressed his lips to Peter's forehead, Peter was glad that some things never changed.