Nothing More

A/N: Enjoy, please rate and review. It would be much appreciated.


The bottle was just about empty.

Nathan and Peter Petrelli, both just about smashed drunk, sat side by side in Peter’s small apartment. Nathan had been listening to Peter talk, didn’t know when he stopped listening and started watching Peter’s lips move, forming words that he didn’t hear, his blood beating a frantic, hard rhythm, fueled by alcohol and Peter’s forbidden masculine beauty. He knew Peter was upset about something Pop had said to him at the dinner party, but Nathan was forgetting fast. Before Nathan even knew he was doing it, his hands were on his brother’s face, and his lips touched Peter’s almost imperceptibly, just enough. Peter didn’t flinch or pull away, and suddenly it was out of Nathan’s control. His tongue slid against Peter’s, tasting the alcohol from the bottle they’d been sharing, a flickering, burning sensation flashing through him--then Peter’s hands tearing his hands away.

Too much.

Too little.

The way he always thought it would be, and Nathan now knew nothing could ever be the same again.

Peter stared at his brother with his mouth half-open in surprise. Or disgust. Nathan couldn’t tell which. Peter’s back remained pressed against Nathan’s left arm, and through Peter’s body ran a shiver that resonated, as if Nathan’s arm were a tuning fork. Nathan waited for the words he didn’t think he could possibly bear to hear, not from Peter, not either way. Either the blinding, accepting hero-worship turned insanely upside-down and inside-out, or flat-out rejection. It’s up to you, Peter. But for Christ’s sake, say something, Pete.

The waiting was almost too much to bear, and Nathan couldn’t stand inaction. He pulled his arm away from Peter just as Peter pulled away from him.

Peter folded his arms protectively across his chest, and he spoke slowly, deliberately.

“There are…a million things that I could say to you right now, Nate…but what I really want to know is…are you just drunk? Or is that what you really want from me? I know you’re not that way, you’re married, for Christ’s sake. You know I’m…not that way either.”

Nathan caught Peter’s gaze in his, and he deliberated just as much as Peter had. Wondered what to say, how to fix this. Peter deserved the right answer. He didn’t know exactly what it was at that moment that had provoked him to kiss his brother that way, but he did know why. He didn’t want to make something up. He wanted to be honest, for once. Peter deserved to know.

Nathan reached out and Peter allowed him to take hold of his forearm, Peter trembling slightly under his grasp. “Oh, Christ, Pete…it’s not like that. I know that’s how it seems, but it’s really not. I just…wanted to show you that I love you.” Nathan blew out a frustrated sigh. That wasn’t enough.

Peter looked betrayed, defeated, like he’d been punched in the stomach, and he actually had tears in his eyes. Peter got to his feet, backed away a few steps, a strange choking sound emerging from him.

“Yes it is, Nathan. You may not be that way, but when you’re with me, I can see it in your eyes that you want …what you want,” Peter swiped at the tears that started to run down his face. Nathan heard the words that Peter hadn’t been able to say. Me. That you want me.

Nathan tried to imagine what Peter might be thinking. All Nathan knew was that he, the one person who had unfailingly protected Peter, was now trying to seduce him. The final fucked-up act in the colossal tragedy that was the Petrelli family. Nathan sighed and waited for Peter to compose himself.

“What the fuck, Nate?” Peter turned his back to Nathan, his arms dropping to his sides.

The crazy-wrong-possessive-fraternal love swelled in Nathan again as he studied the familiar angles of his younger brother’s shoulders and back, the dark hair at the nape of his neck.

Nathan stood up from the bed, swaying slightly on his feet. He rested his hands on Peter‘s shoulders, felt gooseflesh raise on his brother’s pale skin. “Look, Pete. It’s just the alcohol. I’m sorry. Will you please look at me?”

Peter turned to face Nathan, and he said, “Just the alcohol. Okay. Here, I’ll finish it off.” Peter grabbed the bottle off the table with a shaking hand and downed the last shot in it, and Nathan watched while he held it in his mouth, rubbing the alcohol over his lips with his tongue, most likely burning Nathan’s touch away.

Peter cocked his arm back and let the bottle fly, coming inches from Nathan’s face, smashing on the far wall. “Why don’t you go fuck yourself, Nathan?”

Nathan blinked, startled by the motion past his head and the crash of smashing glass.

Peter gasped, “Holy shit, Nathan, I’m sorry!" He laughed out loud, probably surprised at his outburst, and Nathan watched him warily. After a few seconds, he laughed too.

Peter opened his arms and Nathan accepted his brother’s gesture of forgiveness.

Relieved that at least some semblance of their normal relationship was intact, Nathan breathed in the scent of Peter, his face buried in his brother’s slightly-too-long dark brown hair, relished the feel of Peter’s fingers pressing into the bare flesh of his back.

If this was all it could ever be with Peter, then it would have to be. Nathan hugged him tightly, so tightly he could barely get enough air to whisper, “I’m so fucked up, Peter. I’m sorry. I love you. No matter what else I feel, that won’t ever change.”

Peter said something almost under his breath, and Nathan stepped back, realizing he was probably crushing the air out of him too with the unnecessary force of that embrace.

Peter repeated, “You’re fucking serious, aren’t you.”

It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Delivered with incredulous shock, with awed acceptance.

Nathan felt bile rise in his throat, and he was sure he would either be sick, or even worse, start crying. Peter, I’m so fucking sorry. He started for the door. Peter wouldn’t forgive him for this, this sick depraved need that he had, this desire, not just toward another man, but toward his brother. Peter, with the shy smile and the soulful brown eyes.

“Peter, I’ve had too much to drink, I’m going to go sleep it off, all right? Just forget about it, it was stupid, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable--”

Peter had a strange look in his eyes then, partially the glaze of inebriation, but there was something else smoldering there, embers that left unattended could start a blaze from hell, an inferno of worldly proportions. Nathan felt a sickening, exciting jolt in his lower belly as Peter tentatively traced his forefinger down the side of his brother’s neck, his touch setting every nerve to buzzing.

“Nathan, if it’s what you want, then take it. You have my love, you always have had it, you always will. Nothing changes it, not even this.”

No, no, no. Christ, you’re so beautiful, Peter, I want to…so badly but I can’t. You don’t want this. You just want me to have it because I want it. I won’t. I can’t. I don’t want to hurt you. That would be the worst. That would kill me. Nathan’s thoughts raced, and he clenched his eyes shut.

No, not gonna cry. Not today.

He was ashamed of himself, angry at himself. He waited a minute.

Two.

Three.

Peter hadn’t said anything else; Nathan was sure Peter was just waiting for him to unconditionally decline him.

When Nathan opened his eyes, he was not prepared for the seriousness of Peter’s offer. Peter was as naked as the sky was blue, pure sensuality radiating off him, dark hair, darker eyes, white skin and perfect angles, his discarded clothes in a heap on the floor next to him.

My brother, my beautiful brother.

“Oh, my God, Peter, what are you doing? Do you know what you’re doing to me?”

Peter did know.

Peter did everything with this sort of blunt, trusting openness. Nathan felt the power shifting; as Peter’s confidence rose, Nathan felt increasingly weak, as if he’d taken a knife and cut open a vein, watching his blood flow down, out, away from him, and Peter was using it to finger paint Nathan’s darkest, most thrilling fantasy. Draining, and in danger of losing everything that made him whole, including Peter himself.

“Pete, come on, get dressed, it’s--you’re--the--”

Nathan could not look away from those burning eyes. The fire that saw the deepest secret in him and confronted it. The fire started to consume Nathan, hypnotize him, entrance him.

Peter, don’t--

Peter said, his voice shaking just a bit, “It’s not really different from being with a woman that I love, the only thing that’s different is that it’s you, Nathan. I love you. Not that different,” he finished, his voice a whisper. He took Nathan’s arm and stepped closer to him. Nathan slipped that arm around him, his fingertips coming to rest at the small of Peter’s back.

“Pete, it’s different, trust me. You know it.” Nathan placed his free hand on Peter’s chest, felt his heart beating, slowly, calmly, but forcefully. He felt Peter become hard against his upper thigh, pressing into him, and he knew this was absolutely insane, crazy, unforgivable. How did I get you into this, Peter?

Nathan barely suppressed a needful moan when Peter pushed down his brother’s flannel pajama bottoms.

“Just hold me if you want then, if it’s so different.” Nathan’s erection pressed against Peter’s belly, so wrong the way it felt so perfect.

Nathan, holding his brother Peter, skin against skin, nothing more, this is all I wanted, just you, nothing more, Peter, nothing more.

Next thing he knew, Peter’s mouth was opening over his, sealing their fate, the taste of him so sweet Nathan wanted to cry. This kiss, this exploration of the last few uncharted parts of each other, needed by both of them, wouldn’t have been enough.

Too little.

Too much.

Peter.

Lost with him, lost in him.

Peter’s hips were rocking against Nathan, he was crying out softly and for an instant, Nathan was horrified to see his hand was moving up and down on Peter, so lovingly, so naturally. Peter threw his head back and moaned as he came hard and hot into Nathan’s hand. A rush of love filled Nathan as he watched Peter’s face: a twitching muscle in his temple, his eyes wide, his pupils dilated, his pulse fluttering visibly under his jaw line. Just so beautiful, and look, I’m making you feel like this.

Peter clung to him until he was done, and when it was, Nathan, not really knowing what to do, feeling ridiculous, impulsively kissed his brother’s forehead, which now was adorned with fine beads of sweat.

“Oh, Nate. Nathan.”

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Will you let me do it for you?”

“Oh, Pete, no. No. I didn’t even mean to do that to you.” Yes, you did, he admonished himself. And he loved it. Please do it, take me, touch me, Peter, please. Please. Like I did for you.

Peter’s fingers closed around Nathan, and the world became white, with little exploding blue and yellow pinpoints in his vision, and he was moaning, groaning, grinding as Peter’s slender hand worked him over perfectly. He felt Peter’s breath coming fast against his throat, maybe aroused all over again from doing this to him. Thinking of Peter getting hard again, because of him, sent him spiraling straight over the edge, feeling almost like flying, fast, faster, to that damned, fragile, beautiful place where Peter was his lover, not just his little brother.

“I love you, Nathan, I wanted to do it for you, ‘cause I love you.”

As Nathan climaxed, the words banged around in his head…

I wanted to do it for you, ‘cause I love you.

The shameless desperation in Peter’s voice didn’t take away from the experience; in fact, hearing the bared-open truth of the words made him come harder. Felt as though it would never end.

Nathan sighed, and let his brother go. Peter stood there, the fire in him gone, looking very vulnerable. He gave Peter a soft kiss on his cheek, walked over to the dresser and grabbed two clean hand towels from a pile that hadn’t made it to the linen closet. Peter didn’t move at all.

He cleaned himself up, and when Peter remained still, he cleaned Peter up too; Peter didn’t seem to mind. Or doesn’t notice. Or doesn’t care.

There was something, something not right. Peter, why did you sound like that, like you’re gonna cry or something? Oh, Peter…I knew it, knew this would happen.

He looked into his brother’s eyes, and suddenly wasn’t sure what he saw. Hard to read those dark brown depths right now, coming down off that height of heights that was love for his brother. Flying didn’t even compare. Never would.

“What the hell, Pete? You’re scaring me a little. Are you okay?”

Peter smiled his little half-grin, and said, “Yeah, I’m okay. I was watching you, and you looked so…fulfilled. Like you wanted this for a long time, Nate. I’m happy to have given it to you. That’s all.”

Nathan smiled back, and thought, You’ll never know the extent of what you’ve given me. What you continue to give me.

Peter blinked quickly and wrapped his arms around Nathan. A tear escaped from under Peter’s closed eyelid, catching in his eyelashes. Nathan brushed it away.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. Love you, Nathan.”

Peter would be fine. He was, after all, a Petrelli.

Nathan wasn’t sure he was fine himself, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was Peter.

“Good man,” Nathan said, brushing the hair out of Peter’s face. “Love you too.”

Peter gave him a real smile, and that was all he needed.

As long as all was right with Peter, Nathan wanted nothing more.