Brother's Keeper

Chapter 19

Nathan felt as though he had only slept for an hour or less when his alarm clock started beeping at six forty-five the following morning. Peter, who practically lay draped over him, grunted but did not awaken. Slowly and gently the lawyer freed himself from Peter's sleepy grasp and left the bedroom to get on with his morning routine of breakfast and exercise. His brother did not need to wake up until they were going to take that shower together, and that would be roughly an hour from now.

Nathan was in the middle of doing sit-ups when the doorbell rang unexpectedly. Annoyed at having been interrupted, the lawyer went to see who had the galls to disturb him 7:30 in the morning.

Peeking through the peep-hole, he recognized his visitor and instantly unlocked and opened the door.

"Ma."

"Good morning, Nathan," she said with a polite smile. "You've always been an early riser."

"What's this about, Mom?" Nathan asked, already airing on the side of caution. Was she here to warn that Arthur was sending men in white coats to collect his younger brother?

"I came to drop off some things," she answered, holding up a shopping bag. "Peter forgot them in his hurry to leave."

Lifting an eyebrow, her son took the bag and welcomed her in. Without opening the bag entirely, Nathan could see what appeared to be the compressed pages of several magazines.

"Sit down, do you want coffee?"

"Tea, if it's available," Angela replied, sitting down at the kitchen table. "Is Peter still asleep?"

"Actually, yes... And I was in the middle of working out, so if you don't mind..."

Angela raised her hand. "I understand, Nathan. I'll be brief." She observed while Nathan set the tea water boiling. "So, tell me... How are you two doing?"

"Just fine," Nathan replied a bit too quickly, defensively. "Peter ate his first real meal in months."

"That's progress, indeed," Angela admitted.

The older Petrelli brother glared at her. "Well, not having to be afraid might have something to do with it. Ma, let's cut the crap. You didn't come over here eight in the morning just to drop off a pile of magazines. What do you want?"

"Nathan, there is no need for that tone," Angela warned, pretending to be hurt. "Can I not see my sons without an ulterior motive behind it?"

"You don't do anything without an ulterior motive, Ma."

Angela sighed. "I admit dropping off this bag was not my only reason to visit. I came to talk to you, Nathan. About what happened two days ago. I want to know what your father told you."

Staring for a few seconds, Nathan eventually turned his head in the direction of his bedroom and listened intently. No sounds came from it, and he figured that Peter would have not hesitated to make himself known if he was not only awake, but aware that their mother had arrived. Satisfied that he had no eavesdropper in the room, the man took a seat, facing his mother.

"I don't want Peter to know about this..." he began, and almost instantly he saw a change in his mother's eyes. Had she anticipated the subject? "Dad decided to reveal a secret of his own. He said that Peter isn't his son... but he's still yours."

Almost as though content that she had guessed right, Angela's eyes became neutral again before they looked down at her gloved hands resting on the table.

"A woman like myself is supposed to be proud of her achievements, of her husband and children. But I admit there are times when I am secretly ashamed to be married to your father."

"He was telling the truth," Nathan pressed.

Angela looked up at him. "Peter is your half-brother."

"He's a whole brother to me, no matter what," Nathan ground out. "But I can't be anything but relieved that your scumbag for a husband didn't father him. I guess I should've known. Peter is too gentle and innocent to be a Petrelli. So, tell me who his real father is."

Angela's eyes hardened in an instant, and she fixed Nathan with her steel gaze. "That, my son, is none of your business."

"None of my business?!" Nathan repeated. "Excuse me? Am I allowed to take a guess? Was it one of Dad's partners on his law firm? Uncle Frank? Or Gregory, maybe? Or did you have a roll in the hay with a TV repair guy? Or the mail man, perhaps? Or do you even know?"

Nathan was aware that he was spitting out some deeply hurtful things, but at the moment he couldn't bring himself to care. In his opinion, their mother deserved such for keeping Peter's geneology a secret from them for all these years.

Unexpectedly, Angela slapped her son across the face. "Shut your mouth this instant, Nathan Petrelli!" she growled. "I won't have you talk to me like that. It was deeply unfortunate that you found out this way, but what is done is done. Peter's biological father is no concern of yours. You've never met him and you never will."

As if to punctuate her retort, the tea kettle began to whistle, steam escaping its spout desperately. Rubbing his cheek out of surprise and pain, Nathan stood up and poured a mug of tea for his mother.

"Dad already betrayed his family when he was intending to preserve it without the likes of Peter," he said, his voice now calmer and quiet once more. "After everything that's happened... I feared that you weren't behind us either."

Angela stirred her tea before taking a quick and careful sip. "You may have inherited a few of your father's 'charming' traits, but I was the one who raised you. Not he. And you in turn raised your brother. Does it matter so much if a man who was never a part of Peter's life, while you were, remains nameless?"

Nathan shrugged. Supposedly the man's name did not matter a whole lot, especially if his mother was telling the truth about their family not having dealings with him. There were, however, still plenty of unanswered questions that he wanted straightened out.

"How did Arthur find out? Did he catch you red-handed? And more importantly, why did he let you keep Peter and have him raised as a Petrelli? Arthur doesn't exactly do anything from the goodness of his heart." Nathan had started referring to his father by first name to distance himself further from the despicable man he had turned out to be.

"When I got pregnant with Peter, your father knew at once that the baby could not be his," Angela replied. "We were having some troubles in our marriage, and we hadn't even touched each other for so long, and... Well, Arthur caught on to it pretty soon. He wanted me to have an abortion, and at first I agreed with him. I was thirty-eight years old; too old to be the mother of an infant. And we already had you, Nathan. You were twelve and already I knew you were meant for great things." A small smile appeared on Angela's thin, plum-coloured lips. "Then I changed my mind. I wanted to have the baby."

Nathan stared, looking lost. "Why the change of heart?"

"Perhaps it was to spite him. But then I had never meant to have a child only for Arthur to hate it. In the end, I had dreamt something rather reassuring. You were holding him and you were happy. I didn't want to deny you that, darling. Call it intuition... I took you for the kind of person who would make an exceptional big brother."

Nathan regarded his mother silently, taking in everything which had passed between the two of them, until he heard soft footsteps and the turning of a doorknob.

Nathan realized at once that his brother had woken up and prayed that Peter had not been awake long enough to eavesdrop on their conversation. If the boy found out now, like this... Peter's psyche was already fragile, and something of this magnitude might be too much for him to process.

"Buddy?" Nathan, who sat with his back toward the door, turned his head to see what Peter was up to. The boy's expression would be enough to tell if he had heard anything inappropriate.

"Ma...?" At the sight of his mother, Peter's sleep-heavy visage visibly brightened and he padded toward them across the mahogany floorboards.

Angela, however, was shocked at her son's appearance. "Peter Petrelli! What have I told you about wandering the household without clothes?"

Nathan momentarily hid his eyes behind a large hand, rubbing at his temples. Apart from the big blanket-turned poncho that the boy clung to, Peter was otherwise naked.

The younger man's face turned bright red in the realization of his error. Rubbing at the edge of the blanket with one of his fingers, Peter bit his lip. Nathan could see the beginnings of his little brother's body shaking underneath the blanket.

"I'm sorry, Mama," Peter mumbled. "I thought I heard you. I forgot."

"Well..." Angela replied, the disparagement gone from her voice. "Throw on some clothes and you can come and see what I've got for you in this bag."

Uncertain brown eyes widened in response, and he glanced first at the bag, then at his brother, and finally at his mother. "Really?" he asked timidly.

"Yes, but put some clothes on first. You're a big boy, Peter. When you get up, you get dressed. Alright?"

Peter, now blushing furiously, mumbled a barely audible "yes, mama" before hurrying back into Nathan's bedroom to find the clothes he had worn yesterday. Now before he had showered, it didn't matter if he got a pair of clean underwear or not.

When Peter was out of earshot, Angela gave her older son a displeased look. "That is really not acceptable behaviour. You have to make sure he understands that, Nathan."

"Really, Mom, it doesn't bother me. And keep your voice down, he could hear you."

"I know he's going through a difficult time, but you have to set up rules for him," Angela pressed on. "What if you have an important visitor and he saunters out of his room stark naked?"

"That'd be my concern, not yours," Nathan snapped back, quickly losing his patience.

Angela's lips went thin quickly enough to have been missed if Nathan had so much as blinked.

"I will try to remember that his mind is healing, Nathan," she said, "as long as you will try to remember that he is almost nineteen. We both miss the way he was before this tragedy."

Nathan was about to respond again when Peter came bounding back out into the kitchen. He seemed as though he had forgotten about walking in naked only minutes ago.

"Good morning, Nathan," he said, giving his brother a big hug.

"Morning, bud," Nathan returned, pleasantly surprised as he watched the boy walk over to his mother and kiss her cheek.

"Morning, Mom."

"Good morning, dear," she said, smiling politely. "I've found a few things you overlooked whilst packing."

"What?" Peter asked, his curiosity instantly peaked. He glanced in anticipation at the bag Angela had brought in with her.

"See for yourself, darling."

Peter knelt on the floor and began emptying the bag of its contents. Both Angela and Nathan regarded him with amusement as he browsed through the initial pile of magazines with childlike enthusiasm. Among the things included were some more CD's, Peter's night lamp from his old room, a pair of slipper that had not fit into the suitcase, and a second pile of comic books he had forgotten to include in his backpack before leaving. Nathan wondered if Peter had any interest in comic books anymore.

What delighted the boy the most, however, was the green plush dinosaur - still covered in dust - he found at the bottom of the bag.

"Trixie! Oh Mom, thank you so much!"

Still holding the stuffed toy in one hand, Peter threw his arms around his mother's neck and hugged her a bit too fiercely for Angela's liking.

"Careful there, Peter," she retorted in response, causing him to let go. Her eyes flashed in anger for a moment, but she regained control of herself once the grip had been released on her neck.

"Seems to me that your enthusiasm has not caught up with your size, Peter," she stated, and she gently nudged him enough to alert him that she needed some air.

"Thanks Mom," he said, looking gratefully at his bag of newfound possessions. The joy in his eyes was that of someone meeting a friend he had not seen in years. For the most part, Nathan reasoned to himself, this was true.

"Peter, why don't you put your stuff away all nice and neat?" Nathan suggested, hoping his attempts to allow himself and their mother another moment of solitude would not be very obvious.

The boy nodded and headed for his room with the newly acquired bag, even though it was heavy and slowed down his gait. Trixie remained squeezed in his armpit, and Nathan wondered if his brother would bring the bright green plush dinosaur to bed.

"So you found his long lost friend, huh..." Nathan said once he was sure Peter could not hear them.

"I sent the housekeeper to look for it on the attic," Angela replied. "It was dumb luck that she found it."

"I see."

An awkward silence descended over them and lasted for little more than a minute. Angela was finally the one to break it.

"You won't tell Peter, will you? Not under any circumstances."

"About the toy?"

Angela lifted an eyebrow.

Nathan shook his head. "I'm never telling him about his dad. His real dad."

In the most subtle of ways, a wave of relief washed over her expression.

"But not because I'm honoring your wishes," her son pressed. "He can't know that because of what it would mean for him. He's already too vulnerable to deal with a father who hates him. To find out that he's not even fully a part of this family... I don't know what he'd do, but it wouldn't be good for him at all."

"Indeed not," the woman replied, taking a few more sips of her tea. "Peter's real lineage has never affected the way I feel about him, Nathan. I suspect the same could be said for you."

The lawyer shook his head. "If anything, it just makes us closer."

Finishing the small mug of tea, Angela stood up from the table. "I should leave. Your father is expecting me on business somewhere. As you've noticed, he pretends to have total control and yet he can barely do anything by himself."

Nathan took away the mug and placed it in the sink. "Peter will want to say goodbye."

They met Peter in the hallway, Nathan escorting Angela to the door. The boy realized that his mother was leaving before either of them even mentioned it and went to give the woman a hug, though a more careful one this time.

"Goodbye, my dear," Angela said, caressing Peter's cheek with her flawlessly manicured hand. "I love you, remember that."

"I love you too, Ma," the boy replied solemnly. "Please come visit again soon."

"I'll certainly try." She gave her older son a knowing look before walking out the door. "Take care of your brother now, Nathan."

"He will," Peter answered for his brother, giving the older man an affectionate hug.

Angela glanced at the action, but if it had bothered her, she did not make it known. She only smiled and exited the apartment, closing the door behind her.

Peter looked up at his brother and saw something in his eyes which concerned him. "Are you okay, Nathan?"

Snapping out of his reverie, Nathan grinned for his brother and patted the back of the younger man's neck.

"I'm fine, bud," he replied. "Now, how about that shower?"

Peter's face instantly brightened. A smile like his could instantly light up a room and his joy was always infectious. "Sure!"

Though he was excited about taking a shower with his brother, Peter's fears about getting aroused again surfaced when they entered the bathroom together. Nathan surely claimed that he wasn't bothered by it, but Peter's anxiety was rooted deep. He was not supposed to be turned on by his own brother.

Nathan shed his work-out clothes; grey shorts and a white wife-beater and moved on to adjust the water temperature. He liked his showers hot, but Peter didn't, and he could remember his baby brother's complaints about Angela showering him too hot.

"This okay for you, baby?" Nathan gestured at Peter to feel the water and decide for himself.

"Yeah, for now, I guess," the boy mumbled, looking uncertain, but still smiling. He proceeded to undress as Nathan lifted a steel tab which regulated the shower spray.

"Still good?" he asked as he allowed Peter to step into the tub first.

"It's good," Peter grinned, enjoying the sensation of the water flowing over his naked body.

Nathan threw the discarded clothing into a nearby hamper and joined him, getting his own share of water while his brother lathered up the bar of soap.

Eventually Nathan offered to soap up his little brother's back, and to the boy's surprise, the contact did not end badly. Peter enjoyed his brother's touch, of course, but he did not develop an erection as he expected.

"Can I soap your back, too?" Peter asked shyly, as though afraid of being rejected.

"Sure, little buddy. Go ahead." Nathan grinned at him from behind the water spray with his head white and downy with shampoo lather, and the sight made Peter laugh. It wasn't often that Nathan Petrelli looked laughable or even funny, but this was one of those occasions. Peter reached for the bath sponge and Nathan compliantly stepped out of the water and turned his back to his brother so that Peter could get started.

"You want some help with your hair, Pete?" the lawyer asked while the boy moved the sponge over his well-muscled back in large circles.

"Sounds great," Peter said, biting his lip as he smiled. He always enjoyed his brother's big hands against him, and his head was no exception. His brother's touch was instantly soothing, every single time it was used.

Once Nathan had rinsed the lather and suds from his own body, he filled his palm with some shampoo and lathered his own brother's hair. Peter closed his eyes, partly as a way of shielding his eyes from any possible sting from the shampoo, but mostly to fully enjoy the sensation of those hands against his head. He felt secure under his brother's touch.

As he continued to massage the boy's scalp and wash every lock of hair, Nathan could not help noticing the ear which Peter always kept hidden. At present time when he could lift the hair, and expose the lack of the shell, he could fully inspect it out of pure curiosity.

What had once been an ear was now rather half an ear. The lobe was gone almost entirely, and what was left of the shell had crumpled up due to damaged cartilage. It would never again look like it once had, but just to regain the general shape of an ear would require advanced reconstructive surgery. Peter felt terrible about it, not simply because of the physical deformation but because it was a constant reminder of the horrors he had endured.

Nathan realized he must have paused his movements when Peter turned to look at him. "Is something wrong?" he asked worriedly.

"No, buddy, nothing is wrong," Nathan answered hastily and used his finger to smear some lather onto his brother's nose. "I was just... I was looking at your ear," he confessed.

The discomfort in Peter's face was instantaneous. His once infectious smile was gone now, replaced by a solemn face of embarrassment. The boy looked down, away from his brother.

"It's pretty ugly, isn't it?" he asked emotionlessly, wiping the froth off of his nose.

"Oh, Peter..." Nathan began, ready to comfort the young man, but Peter interrupted him.

"You'd probably rather not wash my hair with that thing distracting you."

"No, Peter," Nathan argued. "For heaven's sake, it's fine. It's an awful thing to happen to anyone, but I wouldn't stop washing your hair just because it's there. See? It's fine."

To prove his statement, he gently placed his fingertips against the edges of the shell.

Peter did not recoil or push his hand away, but he fidgeted as a sign of discomfort. "I'll let my hair grow until it's completely hidden..." he murmured. "I don't want anyone to see it."

"Not even your own brother?" Nathan asked softly.

The boy shook his head. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't be. I'm the one who brought it up, and I shouldn't have. Damn it, Petey, you were being so happy and smiling..."

"I'm a kill-joy, aren't I?" Peter smiled again, but now it was a sad, rueful smile.

Nathan hardly wanted to bring up another sensitive subject to his brother now when his mood had already taken a swan dive, but since they were getting cleaned, he felt he had no choice.

"You want some help with your rump, too?"

Peter was silent for a few seconds, but he finally responded. "I think so."

"If it makes you uncomfortable, I can let you try it," Nathan suggested, but Peter shook his head.

"I think it'll be better if you do it. When you do it, I don't think so much about..."

"I understand," Nathan interrupted in an attempt to distract his baby brother from any disturbing memories.

"Can I hug you while you do it?" Peter asked at such a quiet tone that Nathan almost asked for a repeat.

"Oh, sure, buddy. You can do that."

Picking up the bar of soap, he rubbed the suds out from it as Peter circled his arms around him. The boy rested the side of his head against his big brother's shoulder as he felt careful hands clean his backside.

Nathan used a bath sponge to avoid direct contact with the sensitive area and made sure to keep his movements beyond gentle. He wasn't sure if Peter still felt pain down there on occasion, but anything painful would surely remind him of what happened repeatedly during their time in captivity. Once he was done with the soap, he placed the showerhead at the small of Peter's back, letting the water rinse away all traces of lather.

"Okay, baby, we're all done," Nathan announced, and his brother slowly unwound his arms from around him. Peter looked slightly flushed, but at least he wasn't upset to the point of crying.

"You need help with the front, or...?"

"I can do that myself..." the boy murmured, looking down at his genitals, and it occurred to Nathan how fortunate it was that the monsters who almost raped Peter to death at least didn't damage his sexual organs. They had once briefly mentioned castrating their victim, and the lawyer still shivered at the memory of those words.

"You don't have to help with this one," Peter reassured him as he scrubbed, though his face was still red. "I can handle it myself."

"Alright, buddy," Nathan responded, deciding to rinse himself off as he waited for his brother to finish.

Peter felt more comfortable washing his front as opposed to his back. His back was what had been hurt the most, apart from his mangled ear. In addition, he could not see his backside, and so he felt a certain level of insecurity at any attention paid to it. At least with his groin, he could see it and some primitive part of his mind was reassured by that.

"Okay, spray me," he finally said, and Nathan obediently lowered the showerhead to take away the soap on his brother's body.

"Is that alright?" Nathan asked, indicating the spray of water on the young man's skin.

"Yeah, it's good."

Peter could remember that when his mother showered him, she had not asked if the water temperature or pressure were comfortable for her son. Most likely she had considered it as uncomfortable an experience as Peter himself, but her display of empathy had been severely stubbed. Being showered by his brother was much more pleasant, and Peter felt a wave of gratitude and love toward Nathan sweep over him. In response, he hugged the older man while Nathan was still busy rinsing himself off, and a surprised chuckle sounded from him.

"Hey there, little guy... What's wrong?"

"I love you, Nathan."

"I love you too, Petey. What...?"

"And I want to thank you. For dealing with me."

Laughing again, Nathan gave an amused grin. "Well that's my job, big man. I'm your brother. Your older brother. I'm glad to do it."

"Yeah but... when Mom washed me, she just did it and was done. It's her job to help and she just got it over and done with. You did more. You were careful, and you ask every time if I'm okay. She wasn't comfortable and you are."

"Well..." Nathan turned the tap until the water stopped flowing. "I imagine it's hard for her to know what exactly you need and don't need. I was there with you, every step of the way."

"Even back when..." Peter shivered as he trailed off, not just from the air brushing against his wet figure, but also from the memories of his torment. Nathan pulled a towel from the rack and wrapped his brother in the plush fabric. Peter instinctively leaned against him, listening to a strong heart beating behind firm muscle.

"I'm grateful for you, Nathan."

The older man held his little brother close against him, patting a head of dark hair. "I could say the same about you, buddy."

When the third night in his brother's apartment approached, Peter found himself growing increasingly nervous. He did not want to go to the cold, lonely bed in the room that had been assigned to him but he wanted to stay with his brother, to know that Nathan was there right beside him all night in case he'd need him. The simple knowledge made him feel safe, and though nightmares still happened, there were also nights free of them, like the previous one. However, every time he tried sleeping on his own, he woke up screaming with his body covered in cold sweat.

"Tired, buddy?" Nathan inquired after having caught Peter yawning for the third time in half an hour. It wasn't even ten PM.

"A little," the boy confessed. "But I don't wanna go to bed..."

"It's better that you turn in when you're tired," Nathan reminded the boy. Peter only increased his grip on the other man's arm, hiding his face behind a sturdy shoulder.

"Please? I don't wanna 'turn in'. I wanna stay up with you."

"I was thinking of going to bed myself, Pete," Nathan admitted. "Now what's this all about?" He turned in his seat to make his brother face him, holding the boy by the shoulders. "You can tell me," he insisted. "Why don't you want to go to bed? Is it the bad dreams?"

Looking ashamed, Peter stared at his lap and nodded.

"They'll happen less and less, baby," Nathan said in a soothing voice. "Just give them time."

"But..." Peter's tone had become uncertain, as though he were afraid to speak his thoughts. "They... they don't scare me when I'm with you."

Nathan began to grasp what all this was about; Peter was not against going to sleep as such but rather going to sleep by himself.

"You want to sleep with me for a while longer?" Nathan caressed one smooth, blushing cheek with his knuckles, thinking that Peter's face was as soft as a woman's even though the kid was almost nineteen.

"Yeah... but I don't wanna be a bother..."

"You're no bother, sweetheart. My bed feels empty too with just me in it. It's nice waking up next to someone, especially if that someone is my baby brother."

Peter, still blushing, smiled in response to that. "And you don't mind if I sleep nude?"

"Whatever's comfortable for you, bud."

"Thanks Nathan," Peter said, a hand gently touching the older man's stubbly cheek.

Nathan smiled. "Don't mention it."

*

Peter awoke with a slight headache, his eyes shut to the intruding sunlight peeking through the window. Figuring he must have overslept, he then wondered if Nathan was in the kitchen making breakfast, or even beyond that point in the day. Rubbing at his eyes, he reached out and checked the space where his brother would normally occupy were he asleep. Instead of an empty space, his fingers came across a hand.

Yawning, Peter opened his eyes and found Nathan sitting on the edge of the mattress, part of his weight supported on the hand pressed against the bed.

The smile on Nathan's face spread into a grin. "Morning, sleepyhead."

Licking dried lips, Peter returned the greeting.

"Looks like somebody showed up during the night," the lawyer stated.

Slightly confused and a little nervous about whom his brother referred, Peter sat up, his headache ignored. "What? Who?"

Pointing at his brother's face, Nathan took on an amused expression. "The mustache fairy."

Peter looked blankly at his older brother. "Huh?"

Instead of offering further explanations, Nathan reached out the hand he had been resting on and brushed the tip of his forefinger across Peter's upper lip. Indeed, he could feel some hairs that were definitely thicker and darker than the usual fluff every woman and child had. His baby brother had started growing facial hair! Why hadn't he noticed that until now? Nathan wondered.

After Nathan had withdrawn his hand, Peter did some exploring of his own. What he discovered made his eyes glow, despite the hour. "I'm growing a beard?" he gasped. "Really?"

The older man laughed. "I wouldn't go that far! But it's definitely starting. Finally," he added, thinking eighteen and a half was an awfully late age to start growing a mustache. But then again, Peter had always been a late bloomer.

Excitement in his eyes, Peter jumped out of bed, running naked to the bathroom. He obviously needed visual proof of his new feature. Nathan stood up and followed his brother, finding him looking closely into the mirror, gazing with scrutiny at the very faint but very real hairs that had begun to grow out.

"You're a man now, bud," Nathan announced, giving the boy a congratulatory clap on the shoulder. "We should break out the booze."

A light red appeared in Peter's cheeks as his reflection glanced at his older brother. "No thanks. You already gave me the chance to make up my mind about beer, remember?"

"It's an acquired taste," Nathan said as he shrugged. "Anyway, I should teach you about shaving now that you're getting a beard. If I know you like I think I do, you won't like how itchy a mustache can get."

"It gets itchy?" Already the excited glow in the boy's eyes had begun to fade. Perhaps he had not found as many actual hairs as he had hoped for.

"It sure does," Nathan replied. "You've been lucky so far. A beard is actually a lot of trouble. I have to shave every day to stay like I'm now. Not to mention all my body hair..." He looked down at his bare chest and stomach, which were both coated in a mat of coarse hair, disappearing beneath the waist of his pajama bottoms.

Peter giggled. Unlike his brother, he had virtually none except a small patch of hair around the base of his penis. Peter was aware that this made him look even younger than he was.

"Oh but you wait... soon you'll be a hairy ape, just like me!" Nathan teased, tousling the boy's already ruffled hair. At least Peter had plenty on his head.

"Noooo!" Peter pretended to whine, pushing his brother away. "You and your big brown monkey suit can drop dead. I'd rather be like I am now if it means I don't itch."

"You little brat!" Nathan retorted, trying to tickle his already laughing little brother.

"I'll bite you!" Peter threatened half-heartedly as he struggled to get away from the strong tickling fingers.

"Oh no, a naked rat with rabies! I might lose all the hair that I have!" Nathan laughed, and he pulled the medicine cabinet open. "If you don't surrender, I'll pluck all those mustache hairs off, and then I'll keep going with your eyebrows!"

Peter gave a weird sort of shriek and finally wriggled loose from his brother's hold, running out of the bathroom and slamming the door behind him. When Nathan came out of the bathroom to follow him, he found his little brother lying on the bed, still naked, but completely exhausted from his game.

"Already exhausted?" the older man teased. "For a youngster, you certainly lack stamina!"

In response, Peter just buried his face in the pillow and emitted a long, drawn-out moan. He had slept for ten hours but did not seem to mind sleeping another ten. Nathan would have none of it.

"Come on, little guy," he urged, lightly patting the boy's small, naked bottom with his hand. "You're done sleeping for today."

"Hmmmrggg..."

Feeling mischievous, Nathan leaned in closer, whispering. "If you don't get up, I'm gonna tickle you!"

Before Peter could press his arms to his sides, Nathan's fingers were already in his armpits, forcing the boy to writhe in desperation while giving out tiny choked screams and gasps for breath. Peter had always been unusually ticklish.

"I can't breathe!" Peter squealed amidst his giggling. "I give, already! I give!"

"You just can't resist it," Nathan laughed as he watched the submissive behavior of his brother. Were he a dog, Peter's tail would have been between his legs.

"I'm done for the day," the younger man stated, trying to catch his breath.

"Not to the point of falling asleep, I hope."

"No. Did you have breakfast yet?"

Nathan smiled. "I was waiting up for you."

Giving his own smile, still innocent and sweet, Peter sat up and gently elbowed his brother aside, rising from the bed and walking over to the guest bedroom.

"The nudist has to get dressed first though," he said, removing a pair of jeans from the chest of drawers.

"I'll be in the kitchen," Nathan informed his brother and went off to prepare Peter's breakfast.

Considering how skinny the boy was, he needed a portion that was steady without being overwhelming. Peter's appetite had been fairly good since he moved in with his older brother, and Nathan wanted to keep it that way, even though he knew their mother would say that he was pampering the boy.

Nathan had already readied a bowl of cereal and a glass of milk and was in the business of making an omelet when Peter entered the kitchen, this time fully dressed. The boy made a beeline for the stove where his brother stood to give him a firm hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"I love you, Nathan."


TBC...