Fic: What Became of Forever - Nathan/Peter, Peter/Adam - NC-17

[withimpunity]

Title: What Became of Forever
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Nathan/Peter, Peter/Adam
Summary: He'd had his chance to rescue kittens from tall trees and babes that had fallen into wells. Now it was their turn.
Disclaimer: Heroes belongs to Tim Kring, NBC, and other folks who aren't me. This is just for fun, no harm or profit intended.
A/n: If you see a line that belongs in Boondock Saints, you'd be right. And the title comes from the song, What Became of the Likely Lads - the Libertines.


Peter had once, jokingly, referred to them as the Three Musketeers. Adam had laughed and ruffled his hair like they had known one another forever, and Nathan just smirked mockingly the way older, self-righteous brothers did.

"Les Troi Mousquetaires," Adam grinned as the words rolled off his tongue. "I could get used to that."

The fact that Nathan tightened his grip around Peter's waist did not go unnoticed by Peter, nor Adam for that matter.

"What shall we do, then?" Adam asked as he poured them all a drink.

"What we always do," Peter raised his glass to Adam's, lips curling slightly as their glasses clinked together. "Try to save the world."

****

The first time they saved the world together, Adam let Peter and Nathan lead. He'd been in this world for quite a while longer than they had. He'd had his chance to rescue kittens from tall trees and babes that had fallen into wells. It was their turn to feel the rush of vigilance, the power of knowing that the world was still turning because of their very own hands.

It was stunning watching them work. Brothers side by side, back to back, each doing their part to stop the madness. Bombs disarmed. Bodies slain. Evil man, dead man. It was like poetry in motion; a beautiful prose of blood and violence and victory.

Adam took care of them when all was done. Held their faces, washed the blood from their hands (legs, face, hair) with a warm, soapy cloth, and let them alone so that they could rest.

But they couldn't rest, not tonight. He should have known better. He hadn't slept for days the first time he'd saved the world (killed hundreds). Instead, he listened as they made love. Though love was the farthest thing to describe what they were doing. He could hear Peter's screams and knew that Nathan was hurting him, hurting him because he was hurting and needed to know that Peter would be all right. He heard Nathan's screams as Peter fucked him, choking him without touching him, leaving deep crimson scratches down his back without laying a hand on him. He listened as together they came; then they cried.

Adam forced himself to walk away from the private moment he was stealing into. They deserved to have this moment to themselves. Then they needed to lock it away, push it to the back of their minds, and never, ever think about it again.

***

"You know, we could do this forever," Peter said one night over his salad. Adam grinned and raised an amber bottle to his mouth.

"What's that, Peter?" He asked, looking smug. "You're enjoying it, aren't you?"

Nathan's eyes narrowed at Adam's implications and his body instinctively angled toward Peter at the table.

"We're doing good," Peter replied. "We're taking criminals off the street. Stopping rapists. Saving lives."

"You're very right, Peter," Adam smiled, putting his hand on Peter's shoulder. "I'm glad you finally see it that way."

"I've seen what people are like. I've seen in their heads, I've seen them when they think they're alone and no one's watching." He shrugged. "It makes it easier to do what we do."

"Good man," Adam grinned, opening another beer and handing it to Peter. "Good man."

"Nathan," Peter said, turning to his brother. "We're doing the right thing."

"I hope you're right," Nathan's face was hardened. Darkened by a constant shadow, unmarred no matter how many blades had cut through his flesh. "For your sake, I hope you're right."

****

One hand in Nathan's, one on Adam's shoulder, Peter's eyes fell closed and when he opened them again they were standing in the middle of the oval office. The president hadn't made it in yet that morning, so they waited, unseen.

Nathan stood against the window, admiring the beauty of the office he'd once coveted more than anything in the world. He ran his fingers down the smooth, dark finish of the cherry oak desk and over the cool, dark leather of the chair that sat behind it. A portrait of the president's family sat at the center of the desk. Nathan reached out and flipped it over.

"Nathan," Peter whispered and he was standing so close Nathan could feel his breath on the back of his neck.

"What?" He snapped, shoulders tensing under Peter's curled fingers.

"You would look so hot behind that desk." He felt Peter's lips brush below his hairline.

"Not now, Peter," Nathan growled, grabbing his wrist and twisting him around. "You need to concentrate."

"Oh, I am," Peter smirked and Nathan knew that look in his eye better than he knew anything. Despite what they were about to do - what Peter was about to do, he corrected himself - he could still feel himself growing hard under Peter's intense gaze.

'Don't you want to bend me over that desk and fuck me until the walls shake?' Peter projected his thoughts into Nathan's mind, making the heat coil tightly in his belly.

'Just do what you're supposed to,' Nathan thought and walked away from Peter before they did something stupid that could jeopardize what they were there for.

Peter grabbed hold of Nathan quickly before he could walk away and Nathan opened his mouth to protest, but Adam quickly covered it with his hand as the doors to the oval office opened and the president of the United States of America walked in.

Thirty minutes of debriefing later, Nathan, Peter, and Adam were alone in the office with their target. Adam grinned the way Adam always grinned right before a mission, Peter chewed the raw meat of his bottom lip until it began to bleed, then heal, repeating the action over and over, and Nathan searched for Peter's eyes, but Peter never met them, never does.

Adam moved in behind the president and Nathan took his position beside Peter, becoming visible just as soon as Peter wanted them to, not a second sooner. Adam had tape over the president's mouth before he even had a chance to react, but his facial expression said that he was teetering on the edge of a heart attack.

"You're not a good person," Peter informed him. "Intolerant. Unjust. Cruel. Heartless. I could go on, but I won't. We've got bigger fish than you to deal with today, Mr. President, believe it or not."

'Oh God, please no. I don't want to die, not like this. Not by the hands of these people.'

"These people, huh?" Peter smirked, flexing his fingers by his right side.

Keep your cool, Pete.

"Do you have any idea that these people have been the ones stopping your wars? Saving your stupid, intolerant world from earthquakes and hurricanes and natural disasters you could never possibly be prepared for?"

If I could just hit the damn button before-

"He's getting brave Adam," Peter said, not looking away from the man in the chair. "I guess he won't get to hear the rest of my speech. That's a shame, you would have liked it too. I used one of yours as inspiration. You know the one, about doing what's best for the greater good, weeding out those we can't trust. " He grinned crookedly at the president who was staring at him with pure fear and loathing, and Peter tuned out his pathetic thoughts. Stealing a quick glance from Nathan (it's okay), Peter raised his arm, dragging a straight, clean line across the president's throat.

"That was disappointing," Peter sighed, reaching out for Adam and Nathan as Adam released the president's arms and his face fell into the wine colored puddle on his desk. "Let's go home."

****

Peter liked to get satisfaction when he killed someone; it wasn't a benefit, it was a requirement. When Peter took a life and didn't get that instant, gratifying feeling that the person knew that they deserved to die, he felt off kilter. He became unstable. It was like trying to harness a ball of a radioactive energy; untouchable, unpredictable, ready to go off at any moment.

It was times like this that he went to Adam.

He knew Adam wouldn't treat him like the dysfunctional little brother who had long forgotten the difference between right and wrong. He wouldn't hear that worried tone in Adam's thoughts like he heard in Nathan's constantly; only hunger.

Fuck you so hard. Make you scream.

Plus he knew it would piss Nathan off.

Adam buried himself inside of Peter, nails digging deep crescents around Peter's hips as he thrust into that tight, hot heat and groaned.

'Harder,' Peter projected to him, something he knew Adam hated.

"Just say it Peter," Adam growled through a clenched jaw, jerking Peter back, shoving his cock inside even deeper. "I like to hear you say it."

But Adam knew he wouldn't. Peter screamed for only one person and ironically, that person was the same reason Peter was here with him tonight. It had become a ritual of sorts, one Adam was fine with. Let Peter play his games. One day he would learn how to handle it. One day the killing would become part of him, like breathing, like something you didn't even realize you were doing. Until then, Adam listened to Peter beg him to tear him apart in his mind and he played along. One day Peter wouldn't need this anymore. Wouldn't need him.

"Nathan," Peter cried as he shuddered and came, soaking the sheets under his face with warm salt water.

"I'll take him," Nathan said, leaning in the doorway. Adam nodded, biting his lip as he slipped out of Peter and grabbed his clothing. He lingered in the door before leaving them, stealing just a fracture of the moment; Nathan draping his body over Peter's sobbing, childlike form, petting his hair, kissing away the tears that painted his face. Adam could've swore he heard the words love uttered between them, but he knew that couldn't have been right. It was so much more.