Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/382683.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Heroes_-_Fandom
  Relationship:
      Peter/Nathan
  Character:
      Peter_Petrelli, Nathan_Petrelli, Claire_Bennet, Simone_Deveaux, Isaac
      Mendez, Tracy_Strauss
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_High_School, Sexual_Abuse, Sibling_Incest, Drug_Use
  Stats:
      Published: 2009-07-05 Chapters: 5/5 Words: 29377
****** Prom, And Other Disasters ******
by cadesama
Summary
     After Peter publishes a near disastrous article in the school
     newspaper about Nathan's illicit affairs on campus, Nathan plots
     revenge. But with both prom and the anniversary of their father's
     death coming up, the plot quickly becomes twisted for both of them,
     emotionally and psychologically. HIGH SCHOOL AU
***** Chapter 1 *****
Part 1 – The Problem
Everyone talked about how good the Student Senate looked on transcripts. No one
talked about how damn much of the class was dedicated to debating crepe paper
decorations, and the merits thereof.
Streamers, Nathan wrote on his official Senate agenda, pen working with sharp,
stabbing precision, Dead!
Emergency meetings arguing over the prom committee budget, held two fucking
weeks in advance of the event itself, weren't exactly an ideal way to spend a
Saturday afternoon, in the esteemed opinion of the Monroe High Class President.
Admittedly, for him, an ideal Saturday afternoon was one spent in a slow,
leisurely sixty nine with his brother Peter, but that was neither here nor
there.
Nor, thankfully, was it in his little brother's newspaper. Unlike how
tête–à–têtes with prospective Senate appointees were and, if this afternoon's
problem didn't resolve itself soon, bankrupting the Student Senate over a dance
would be.
To be fair, it was his own damned fault. He should have known better than to
let one of Mohinder's friends take point on the decoration committee. Mohinder
had been a staunch political ally as the senior class representative, and the
junior class rep the previous year when Nathan was just the Class Vice
President, but much as Nathan loved the guy, he had to admit Mohinder's taste
in people was more than a little shitty.
Still, the designs Candice had presented to the Senate had been convincing. How
were they supposed to know that plan was an illusion, a daydream just one puff
of reality away from collapsing?
The bulk of the money was already spent, going to the DJ flown in from LA -
- because, of course, New York was too close, and didn't the seniors deserve
something special? Going to the catering, because the evening was supposed to
be an event. And going to renting out the grand ballroom of the Deveaux
building, because everyone should feel like royalty at least once.
That cost, at least, had not been the blow out expected. The Deveauxs were good
friends of the Petrellis and Simone was a graduating senior, so it had not been
difficult for Nathan to negotiate a lower price in the interest of Mr. Deveaux
securing the perfect night for his darling daughter.
Which still led to the current dilemma. Decorations comma paper.
"It's tacky," Tracy snapped, facing down a sharp glare from Meredith across the
table. "You want to festoon a vaulted, neo-baroque ballroom with paper rosettes
and honeycombs? Please. It should be fabric and fresh flowers, or nothing at
all."
Nathan groaned. It was like she wanted to ruin him.
"We don't have the money for that," he reminded her.
"Perhaps that is an idea to consider," Mohinder started. "No decorations at
all. Wasn't the purpose of securing a beautiful location in the first place the
fact that it is beautiful? Why waste money dressing it up to look like
something it isn't?"
As a collective, the Senate shifted in their seats, torn between the appeal of
the idea and the nagging feeling that Mohinder was just trying to duck
responsibility for his bad appointment.
"Sounds fine to me," Ando shrugged. "It is not like we have a new design."
Meredith and Heidi, proponents of the crepe paper proposal, grumbled their
acquiescence. It was pretty obvious that the old theme would be horrific in
paper, and there really wasn't anything else on the table.
It didn't feel like a victory to Nathan, though. It grated, this idea that the
best course of action was to do nothing at all. He'd learned well all too
recently that he did not have the freedom to rest on his laurels.
"I see your point, but this doesn't sit right with me," Nathan said, ignoring
the impatient huffs from around the circular meeting table. "I know that none
of you want to meet back here tomorrow, or deal with this in class on Monday.
So what I'm proposing now is that we table this, and you all agree that if I
can allocate more funds for an immediate solution, I can act unilaterally,
without another committee meeting to effect the action."
"You want the power to issue executive orders?" Tracy balked. She raised a
hand, gesturing the to heretofore ignored audience to the meeting sitting in
the back: Ando's friend Hiro. "Despite what you may have told him, you are a
student, Nathan."
"I am. But this is a very narrow application, Tracy. I can't possibly see why
you would object."
Nathan held Tracy's cool gaze for a long moment, before Eden broke the silence,
"Why don't we call it a day, draft the proposal, Trace, making it as limited as
possible, and e-mail it over?"
Tracy shrugged, the set of her shoulders still stiffly defiant, but Nathan
could tell she had been persuaded. He let out a long, relieved breath.
"Good. Then I move to adjourn...."
***
As Senate Secretary, it was Heidi's job to type up the minutes of the meetings
and summarize them for Peter's newspaper, Audrey in video journalism, and Hana
over in new media.
These days, though, Nathan wasn't a big fan of making things too easy on Peter,
so he asked Heidi to just forward the summary to him and let him pass it on at
home.
"He was just doing his job, you know," she said, rolling her eyes. Any sympathy
he could have expected from her was clearly canceled out by her still hard
feelings over the break up. "Maybe you shouldn't have fucked Meredith at home
if you didn't want him to break the story."
"That's not the point," Nathan snapped, before remembering himself. "Will you
leave it to me, please? I want to take care of this myself."
He wanted to make Peter crawl, to beg to be allowed to do his job again. He
didn't get to have access anymore.
If Heidi understood that subtext, she ignored it, sighing, "Fine. I'll finish
it tonight and send it over."
Nathan drove home, for once relishing the slow New York City traffic that
allowed him to contemplate the best way to exact his revenge on Peter. Should
he just wait for Peter to realize he was cut off, wait for Peter to get
righteously angry when he stormed into Nathan's bedroom, demanding the due
right of the school paper's Editor in Chief? Or should he tell Peter himself,
set the terms of surrender and watch that beautiful rebelliousness crumble
right in front of his face?
Foot in the front door, Nathan barely noticed how quiet the house was. The help
was usually off on the weekends, but their presence was often as not replaced
by Peter's friends or Company affiliates come to plead their case with Ma. He
took the stairs two at a time to the second floor, hip bumping against a table
in the hall as he turned a corner, nearly sending a crystal vase and fresh cut
hellebore to the floor.
He paused in front of Peter's closed door, back straight, licking his lips in
anticipation. He took a deep breath – and tasting the scent of the air, his
heart immediately clenched.
The plan was no good. Not today.
Nathan knocked at the door as a courtesy, but eased it open before there was
any response. Smoke did not roll out into the hall, Peter knew better than that
at least, but the smell of cannabis intensified. Nathan closed the door behind
him, striding quickly across his brother's room to open the window, before
turning his gaze to the figure upside down on the bed.
Peter had stripped down his boxers, and the state of his trash bin gave a good
indication of what he'd been up to all afternoon. So did the sarcastic salute
he hailed Nathan with, lifting his half empty bottle of Jack in acknowledgment
before wetting his lips with whiskey.
Nathan brought a hand up to his forehead, feeling a headache coming on.
"So, I take it you spent the afternoon getting high and jerking off? I thought
you had a newspaper meeting."
Peter tilted his head back to offer Nathan a lazy grin.
"Where do you think I got the pot?"
Motherfucking Isaac, of course. Nathan really, really wished he could get that
stoned idiot expelled. Peter always protested that Isaac was an integral part
of the paper, the best cartoonist he had. The only one he had.
Some of Nathan's disapproval – well, probably all of it – must have shown on
Nathan's face, because Peter's brow furrowed in annoyance.
"Whatever. You're just mad you didn't think of it first."
Nathan had thought of plenty. His plan had just been less solitary and more
collaborative in nature. He sat heavily on the bed, toeing his sneakers off
before letting himself fall backwards, head at Peter's feet.
"I don't suppose you have anything left for me?" he asked.
Peter pressed the bottle into Nathan's hand; so very much not what he was
asking for. Nathan took it anyway, bringing it up to his lips for a long
swallow. His other hand groped for Peter's, tugging him to sit. Peter shifted
with bad grace, grumbling as he resettled right side up, face centimeters from
Nathan's.
His eyes were red, pupils blown out, leaving only the sliver of greenish hazel
irises. His hair was stringy with sweat, falling onto his forehead, breath hot
and stale against Nathan's lips. Nathan reached out, thumb drifting across the
sharp line of Peter's jaw. His skin felt slightly cool to the touch, and Nathan
wondered just how long he'd been drinking.
"Jesus, Pete. What happened?"
Peter's eyes were hazily confused.
"Nothing. Had a good afternoon. How was yours?"
"I think Tracy is out to get me."
Peter nodded swiftly in agreement, saying, "Yeah, she hates you."
"What?" Nathan frowned. Why was he the last to know these things?
"Hates your guts. She never forgave you for cheating on Niki last year."
Peter curled an arm around Nathan, letting himself be pulled close, burrowing
his head down into the crook of Nathan's neck, seeking warmth. Nathan stroked
his hand through Peter's hair, trying to distract himself from becoming aroused
by thinking through this problem.
His eyes studied the posters on Peter's ceiling – Fallout Boy, really? – before
shaking his head, "That doesn't make sense. Niki never even liked me that
much."
"She and DL make a good couple," Peter said, voice muffled. Yeah, such a good
couple that they were the front runners for prom king and queen. Especially now
that Nathan and Heidi were out of the question. Not that he was bitter.
Peter, apparently bored with cuddling, started to kiss and lick at Nathan's
neck, making him groan. He shifted restlessly on the bed, feeling his cock
hardening and knowing he'd get no relief. Not with Peter smashed off his ass
and wrung out from stroking off all afternoon.
Or maybe he would. Things didn't always have to be mutual...
Satisfied with his work, Peter pulled back long enough to murmur, "C'mere."
He pressed his mouth up to Nathan's, open and wet, tasting like the whiskey
Nathan knew he hated. Dad drank whiskey. Used to drink.
"I'm still mad at you, you know," Nathan said between kisses.
"Mmm. Why?"
"Your nasty trick with the paper," Nathan said, nipping hard at Peter's neck.
"If the Academy hears about that..."
Peter cracked an amused eye open. "Should have gone with early admission, like
me. Besides, they won't hear. If there's one thing the school is afraid of,
it's Mom. If there's two, it's Mom and tarnishing the school's reputation. It's
just gossip."
"It's gossip about me," Nathan growled. He would have his revenge. Just not
today.
Peter rolled onto Nathan, grinding down and smiling at Nathan's reaction. He
reached for the bottle, taking a long swallow and then another mouthful. Before
Nathan could protest, he leaned down again, bare chest heavy on Nathan's, heat
seeping through his annoyingly buttoned shirt. Nathan gripped the back of
Peter's head hard as Peter sealed his mouth over Nathan's to share the drink,
Peter's tongue gentle to soothe the burn of the alcohol. A trickle escaped from
the corner of Nathan's mouth.
Panting, Nathan felt the warm room start to spin around him. He shut his eyes,
trying to keep control, only to have them snap open when Peter palmed his cock
through his trousers.
"Stay with me," Peter whispered, gaze intent through the cloudiness.
Nathan wiped his face with two fingers, examining them as he joked, "Dad
wouldn't approve. He said not to waste a drop."
He also drank much better whiskey than Jack Daniels, but that wasn't really the
point.
If Nathan expected Peter to react to the mention of Dad – the anniversary was
coming up, it had to be that – he was disappointed. Wordlessly, without the
guile, without the consciously flirtatious look in his eyes he would usually
offer, Peter ducked his head down, mouth enveloping Nathan's fingers to suck
every hint of the alcohol from his pores.
His eyes fluttered closed, eyelashes dark, thick lines above his cheekbones as
he sucked and swirled his tongue, and fuck if that wasn't nearly enough right
there.
Breath heaving in his chest, Nathan groaned, "How long?"
Peter pulled back, fingers popping from his mouth, his hand reached out
unsteadily, pressing down on Nathan's chest as he tried to keep his balance.
Even sitting upright, it seemed, took effort for him in this state.
Nathan kept that hand where it was, caressing Peter's cheek with his wet
fingers as Peter asked in puzzlement, "How long for what?"
"How long until Ma gets back?"
"She's been here all day."
Nathan jerked suddenly, pushing Peter off him and scrambling off the bed to
stand.
"What? Are you trying to get caught?" Again?
Peter glared up from the awkward position he landed in, legs and arms a naked
jumble.
"She and Noah have been in Dad's old study all day, working on Company
business. They haven't been up here once. We're not going to get caught,
Nathan."
Nathan paced across the room, kicking the clutter of shoes and clothes and
half-finished news-copy out of his way.
"What about Claire?" he snapped. "Is she here, too? God, what were you
thinking?"
"What about Claire?" Peter mimicked, eyes glittering viciously. "Do you even
listen to yourself? It's a Saturday. She's at her mom's. But the high and
mighty Nathan Petrelli can't even deign to learn the comings and goings of his
fucking family. What a shock."
"She is not our family!"
"Step. Whatever, close enough."
Angry as Nathan was, he really hadn't had any idea if Claire was around until
Peter confirmed she wasn't. His mind did quickly click into gear, though,
because if Claire wasn't home that meant...
"What about Lyle, Pete? He's just a kid. You want him walking in on us?"
Peter was clearly done being angry. He shrugged, falling back onto the bed,
hand groping again for the Jack where it had fallen on the bed, a slow stream
of whiskey spilling onto his bed covers. He needed to change them anyway.
"So I teach him to roll a joint, so what? He'll probably learn on his own,
anyway."
"If you think the drugs are the problem here... God, Pete, maybe you should get
caught, go through therapy again. It clearly didn't make a dent the first
time."
Peter lifted his head off the bed, a surprisingly ironic look on his face for
someone so high.
"You always say the sweetest things when we fuck."
Nathan gritted his teeth together, acknowledging the hit. It was a bit hard to
call Peter out on being fucked up when sex with Nathan sure as hell contributed
a lot there.
"Try to be sober before dinner, Pete," Nathan said tersely, turning for the
door.
"I love you, too!" Peter sneered.
***
Nathan heard a soft click behind him and the gentle creak of door hinges
working. He ignored it, finishing up the last of his Calc homework. Normally he
would have tried to finish it on Friday, just to clear out his whole schedule
for the weekend, but Friday night was when he received the urgent text about
the prom's budget problem, so the rest of the night had been spent corralling
the Senate to set up the emergency meeting the next day.
Saturday, of course, had been the meeting and Peter, both leaving him in an
unsatisfied, tightly wound coil. Unable to concentrate, he'd spent the rest of
the evening in step-brotherly "bonding" with Lyle, playing football in the
garden.
Today was another work day for Ma and Noah, the quiet kind that was
occasionally punctuated by calm, frightening threats. Which made it a very good
day to spend outside or upstairs, at least until they finished their business.
Nathan was moderately sure that Lyle was off at one of his many, many sporting
activities. It was a good bet, anyway.
The last time Nathan looked out the window, Peter had been lying in a sunny
spot on the grass, phone held close to his face while he laughed, smile bright
enough that Nathan could feel it from his room. He'd probably been talking to
Isaac. Or Simone. Whichever one he claimed to be dating this week.
Nathan's thoughts had turned again to expulsion and why, while it was an
extremely bad plan to enact with Simone in particular, it was very enjoyable to
fantasize about. It took a long time for Nathan to force himself away from the
window, and even longer to force himself back to work.
Soft footsteps sank into the plush carpeting, barely making a sound.
"Finishing your homework on a Sunday afternoon?" Peter asked, peering over
Nathan's shoulder, hand warm enough against Nathan's neck to make him shiver.
"I don't know what to say, Nathan. You're losing your touch. Soon you're going
to be as lazy as me."
Nathan punched a few keys on his graphing calculator, finding the area
underneath the curve. Writing down the last few numbers, he pointedly laid down
his pencil and closed his book.
"Not likely, Pete." He shifted in his seat, turning to look up at his brother.
He looked better today, back to normal. The wildness was gone from his eyes,
replaced by his usual gentle uncertainty. "What's up?"
Peter licked his lips, looking down for a moment before looking back up from
under his bangs.
"I just wanted to apologize. I didn't mean what I said yesterday. I'm sorry."
"Ah," Nathan said. "You're only sorry for yesterday."
This was the moment where Nathan hoped Peter would glare at him, anger suddenly
crackling in his eyes. He'd growl back, "Is there something I should be sorry
for?" And then Nathan would wave the newspaper article in his brother's face –
he'd cut it out and kept it on he his desk, ready, just in case – before
telling him that he was totally cut off from now on. He'd have to scrabble for
access just like a real reporter, groveling for the Senate minutes and many,
many more pieces of information in the future that Nathan planned to hold over
his head.
Instead, Peter frowned. "You know, I'm trying to be nice here."
"Yeah," Nathan sighed. Not the right time for games, then. "You always do."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Nathan stood and clapped an arm around Peter's shoulder, pulling him close in a
half hug and pressing a kiss to Peter's temple. Peter looked faintly surprised,
but pleased, when Nathan released him. He stayed near, almost within the circle
of Nathan's arms.
"Nothing, Pete. So, do you want to talk about whatever it is that had you so
wound up yesterday?" Nathan asked. Never say he didn't have a sense of
courtesy. He knew well enough to pretend he didn't know exactly what the
problem was.
Thank God Peter was Peter, and therefore too open to really hedge or be coy
about this.
"I don't know how much talking will help," Peter admitted. "I just feel... It's
been three fucking years, Nathan! Dad's dead, he's never going to hurt us
again. Why can't I get over it?"
"Because it takes more than just time."
Frustrated tears welled in Peter's eyes. He shrugged stiffly, looking away,
voice tight when he continued, "But I have done more. I just... I just want to
be better."
Nathan felt his breath solidify in his chest, his muscles tense across his back
as he restrained the ache of hearing the pain in his brother's voice. He pulled
Peter close again, hugging hard for his own comfort as much as Peter's.
Peter's arms stayed limp at his side, at first, as he let himself be handled
and positioned like a doll. Eventually his arms encircled Nathan's back,
holding his brother just as tightly as Nathan held him. He rested his forehead
against Nathan's shoulder, wet eyes dampening Nathan's t-shirt.
"I know," Nathan said.
The therapists, girlfriends, boyfriends, Ma... they never knew how to take care
of Peter. Not like Nathan did. Nathan was the only one who really understood
what Peter had gone through, and he was most certainly the only person who had
come through to the other side a stronger person himself.
They stayed in that position, Peter warm and tightly clutched to Nathan's chest
for a long moment, before Peter started to relax, before his uncomfortably
hitched breathing smoothed to a pattern much less painful to listen to.
Perhaps hearing the train of Nathan's thoughts, Peter slipped out of Nathan's
grasp enough to tilt his face up, wide hazel eyes searching Nathan's expression
as he asked, "What about you?"
"What do you mean?"
Peter rolled his eyes. "What do you think I mean? How are you coping with the
whole anniversary thing?"
"I'm fine," Nathan said, kissing Peter again, this time lightly on the
forehead. "Don't worry about me."
"Nathan..."
Nathan guided them both to sit on his bed, breaking them apart slightly,
although his arm was braced on the bed behind Peter's back. He aimed for a
casual pose, ignoring Peter's concern, eyes searching the bookshelf opposite
for a new topic. He didn't really think "Indo-European Conquests in the Aegean
And the Near East" would interest Peter.
"Hey. Um, you don't really think that I don't care about them, right? About
Claire, and Lyle, and Bennet?"
Peter raised an eyebrow at the last. Well, what the hell else was he supposed
to call the man? Dad was already taken.
"That's the worst segue I've ever heard in my life," Peter said dryly.
However, he did let it go, his penitence over his bad behavior the day before
overwhelming his desire for reciprocal sharing for once.
"I do care, you know," Nathan insisted, not sure why he suddenly wanted Peter
to believe him.
"Oh, I know," Peter said hurriedly. "It's just that you... well, you never
really seem interested in their lives. Do you even know what classes Claire is
taking?"
"Logical fallacy. I doubt she's taking anything that interests her." But, okay,
Nathan could sort of see Peter's point. "Didn't she try out for...
cheerleading?"
"Drill team," Peter corrected, soft, amused smile on his face. His bangs fell
forward, and Nathan gently tucked them behind his ear.
"Ah. Right. The slutty cheerleaders."
Peter's smile vanished, replaced with an annoyed, very politically correct
expression. He smacked Nathan not at all softly on the chest.
"Don't call them that."
"Sorry, Pete, I forgot that you don't like sharing your title. You put in the
real slut hours..."
Pete hit him again, more gently this time, but it was enough to spur Nathan to
retaliate. Pulling his arm out from behind Peter, where his brother had been
leaning on it, he pushed Peter down and moved on top of him for a pin. Peter
struggled, gasping out laughter as he tried to topple his brother off of him.
"Peter?" Claire called from the doorway, voice affectionate and indulgent.
The boys froze on the bed and then relaxed, remembering that what they were
doing actually was innocent for once. They disentangled themselves, red faced
and still panting.
"Was there something you wanted, Claire?" Nathan asked politely, eyes squarely
on her, ignoring Peter in his periphery. Now was not the time to think about
how good Peter looked flushed.
Claire looked vaguely surprised at the question, like she hadn't expected to
find him in his own room. Nathan fought back a surge of annoyance. He hadn't
lied to Peter. He cared about Claire. He even liked her. He just didn't think
she liked him very much.
"Uh, dinner. Are you coming, Peter?"
He hardly had a choice, after his showing the day before. Peter had slept
through dinner, and while Sunday dinner was usually a Bennet only affair –
Petrellis opting to stay away so Bennet could spend time with his both kids at
the same time, before Lyle went back to his mother's – Ma had made it very
clear he had some atoning to do.
"Yeah. I just need to clean up. I'll be down in a bit," Peter said, holding out
his hands, wiggling his fingers.
Claire flashed him a bright smile, almost skipping from the room; Nathan rolled
his eyes.
"Well, I think I know one thing she's interested in," he muttered, not even
trying to hide the jealousy in his voice.
Peter ignored him, as he always did, standing to leave. Long ago, Peter had
told him that he wasn't going to let Claire come between them. Not at all a
comforting sentiment, in Nathan's opinion, since that meant there was something
between Peter and Claire.
"You coming down?"
"She's all yours, tonight, Pete. Flirt all you want. I'll catch the next show."
Peter huffed quietly and glared at him, but didn't deny the charge.
Nathan glowered silently at the closed door long after Peter left.
***
It was a long time before Nathan snuck down to the kitchen, hunger overwhelming
his good sense about avoiding his family. Usually he would go out on a date,
solving the awkward problem of how to eat without attending a Bennet family
dinner.
Since the break up with Heidi, however, he didn't exactly have any prospects
lined up.
He really needed to do something about that, especially with prom so close.
Nathan considered his options as he raided the kitchen, the cook having gone
home long before. There was always Heidi. He could try to win her back. But he
wasn't big on groveling, and he was fairly sure that's what she wanted. A
plausible story for how he'd managed to smell like sex before a date with her
would be necessary too – far trickier, since he'd have to fabricate a woman for
that.
He didn't think "Well, I was blowing my brother," would exactly charm her back
into his arms.
Note to self, Nathan thought. Sex with Peter afterdates. Not before.
Nathan's eye hit upon some take out containers, and he brought one up to his
nose for a quick sniff. Chicken vindaloo, still good if getting up there in
vintage. Now all he needed was... ah, the garlic naan. Grinning to himself in
triumph, Nathan hip checked the fridge door closed, hands full.
There weren't a lot of other girls of Nathan's acquaintance that a) he hadn't
slept with or b) didn't hate his guts. The former group led back to the entire
"groveling" problem. The latter had a more self-evident problem, unless they
were into hate sex.
Nathan snorted to himself. He couldn't quite imagine Tracy cornering him in a
closet for furious, wild sex.
He paused, looking into space. Actually... Nathan could totally imagine that,
and it was pretty awesome. He filed the thought away for later consideration.
He turned to grab a plate from the cabinet, and damn near dropped the
containers in surprise.
His mother, coiffed, wearing a sharp suit and a sharper expression stood
waiting on the other side of the room.
"Nathan, if you have a moment?" his mother asked pleasantly, indifferent to his
hunger.
"Uh, yeah, sure, Ma."
He followed her out of the room, sparing only one longing glance for his dinner
before straightening up. His mother didn't do social calls and most certainly
didn't do heart to hearts with him. This was business, of some form, so Nathan
had to be prepared for it.
Nonetheless, it was disturbing to be led into Dad's old study. Nathan's eyes
widened as he took in the guest waiting in the stiff, dark leather chair in
front of the desk.
"Daniel and I were just talking about you, Nathan," his mother said, taking him
by the arm to draw him further into the room.
Mr. Linderman turned with a half smile, glass of whiskey – Dad's whiskey –
raised in greeting. Ma went to sit behind the desk, hands steepled as she
watched the two of them. As she left Nathan to fend for himself.
Nathan managed a resentful glare for her before he greeted their guest.
"Ah, just the man I was waiting for," he said, voice cheerful. "And how are
politics treating you, young Nathan?"
"Not bad." Nathan returned uneasily, wishing there were somewhere for him to
sit. Then again, maybe not. He didn't like the idea of sitting down to discuss
family business with Linderman. Yet another shade of his father's sins.
"You may be wondering why I asked to see you, Nathan. As it turns out, I
believe that I may be able to offer a solution to a problem you are facing.
Your school is hosting a dance soon, I hear. Prom?"
Nathan shook his head slowly, trying to clear the cotton from his ears. He
could have sworn he just heard motherfucking Linderman talking about prom. And
oh God, why did he have to think that particular word? He really hoped Ma and
Linderman weren't having sex. That would be too disturbing.
Linderman frowned at the apparent denial.
"Nathan," Ma started commandingly, head tilted toward Linderman as she urged
him to focus. Nathan took a deep breath, pressing his sweaty palms against his
jeans. "I was telling Daniel about your administration's slight budget
problem."
"I thought I could perhaps be of some assistance."
Oh, fuck no. He was not going to accept money from Linderman. They didn't need
prom decorations that badly.
But what was the point of the moral high ground? No one would know. And it
wasn't like the whole school wasn't a big money laundering operation and front
for the Company to begin with.
Fighting images of walking into the Senate, money secured, hailed as a hero by
everyone, he asked his mother, "How do you know about that?"
"Noah told me."
"Of course," he replied, smile tight and angry. He'd really liked Bennet a lot
more when he was in wetworks, instead of being Ma's personal spy on him and
Peter. Bennet probably liked wetworks more too. A hitman's problems were a lot
more easily solved than a Vice Principal's, that was for sure.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Linderman," he said, anger barely leashed in his voice. "But
I'm not ready to become my father just yet. I hope you understand."
Linderman laughed loudly, setting his empty glass down and clapping his hands
down onto his legs before he stood.
"My dear boy, don't you worry. I understand perfectly." He reached into a
pocket, extracting a business card that he forced into Nathan's stiff hand. He
leaned close, whispering into Nathan's ear, "But keep me in mind, for the
future."
Linderman squeezed his arm in a fatherly gesture. Nathan shivered.
"I do like the boy, Angie," Linderman said over his shoulder, doffing an
imaginary hat as he left. "He's got spirit."
"That's a kind way of looking at it, Daniel," Ma said, walking out from behind
the desk to show Linderman out. They continued talking about Nathan, about his
future with the Company, voices pitched to normal volume but nonetheless fading
as they got further from the study.
Ma returned alone, silent as she brushed past Nathan to sit again.
"That was poorly played, Nathan," she said, picking up a pen as she sorted
through documents, adding an angry signature to a few.
"What the hell do you want, Ma? I'm not going to be Dad!"
"I want you to consider your future. How far do you really think you'll get
without the Company? You think you'll get to the White House? Dear, you didn't
make it onto the Student Senate without his money."
Stung, Nathan replied, "That's not true. I did that all on my own."
His mother looked at him pityingly. "I never should have let you believe that.
It has clearly confused your priorities."
"My priorities? My priority, Ma, is trying to save this family from itself!
Trying to clear our name! How the hell am I supposed to do that if I start
taking money from the mob in high school?"
"This family is the mob, Nathan. And you need to be realistic about what that
means," Ma said, waving her fingers at him, dismissing him from her presence.
She turned back to her ever so pressing papers and Nathan walked from the room,
anger burning slowly.
***
It was 6:45 am and Nathan was already running late as he threaded his Honor
Society pin into the knot of his uniform tie. He cursed softly when he heard a
knock at his door, surprise making him slip. He'd stabbed himself with the
straight pin.
Sucking on the pad of his index finger, he hoped he wasn't in trouble for his
late night the day before. Usually Ma and Bennet didn't care much about his
curfew, but there had been a strange tension in the house when he came home,
silent and asleep though everyone else was.
Behind the door, it was Bennet himself. Nathan opened the door, and barely
sparing the man a glance, went back to surveying his appearance in the mirror.
"There's something I need to discuss with you, Nathan," Bennet said, closing
the door discreetly behind himself.
Nathan restrained himself from making a snide comment about Bennet's misplaced
paternalism. It was a bit late in the game for anyone to play father to him,
much though Peter apparently relished having an alternative to Dad around.
But he'd rather get this finished sooner than later, take his punishment if
that was what he was due and plead out his case with Ma later. If she cared
enough to bother listening, anyway.
"Shoot."
"Your mother informed me of something very interesting that occurred last
night, regarding your brother and Claire."
Nathan turned slightly, regarding Bennet with a frown. "Interesting how?"
"It seems my daughter has something of a crush on Peter." Yeah, tell me
something I don't know. "She asked him out last night and he was rather...let's
say put off by the whole thing."
Huh. That was actually surprising. Nathan knew his brother didn't actually have
much in the regard of sexual mores and that Peter's relationship with Claire
was exactly the kind of playfully flirtatious affair his brother usually
pursued. He never would have guessed that Peter would balk at a serious
overture from Claire, step-sister or not.
He couldn't help the surge of selfish triumph he felt. Nathan had always
assumed he would eventually lose to Claire – to the possibility of a romance in
the light of day with someone as close as family, someone who actually
understood him, unlike all the rest of his high school flings. The idea of
Peter himself extinguishing that possibility was very satisfying, if confusing.
"And what does that have to do with me?" Nathan asked slowly. He didn't want to
tip his hand. Bennet didn't know about his relationship with Peter, Ma didn't
know that it was still on-going, and he really didn't feel like getting Dr.
Laura'd right now.
"You care about your brother. I care about Claire. I can't be there for her all
the time, though. I was hoping you would take it upon yourself to keep an eye
out for her when I can't. Think of it as your step brotherly duty."
"Keep an eye out... and keep her and Peter apart?" Not that he had anything
against that idea, really.
The early morning light glinted off Bennet's glasses, turning them into
mirrors.
"I just don't want to see my little girl get hurt again," he said cryptically.
"And I don't like to see my brother hurt," Nathan replied, not quite sure if he
meant it as a threat or what he could possibly threaten Bennet with. Telling Ma
about this little conference would almost surely result in nastier consequences
for Nathan than for Bennet – he knew he wasn't supposed have that close of
contact with Peter, but Bennet did not.
He didn't seriously think Angela Petrelli would have her first born killed, but
he also didn't want to take the risk. She'd always liked Peter better anyway.
"Then we're agreed?"
Bennet was not honestly threatening Peter, Nathan knew that much. He was making
an offer. He would turn a blind eye at school and a home to Nathan's actions,
as long as they could be construed as protecting Peter or Claire. He wondered
briefly why Bennet was not adding blackmail into the mix, talking of using
Peter's exposé about his affairs from the school record against him, but
decided that this was the smarter move. It kept them allies.
And Bennet was clearly all too aware that he may want to keep that in reserve.
Carte blanche to act how he wanted, particularly with regard to Peter, was all
too tempting.
"We're agreed."
Bennet nodded once and turned to leave. From the doorway, he added, "Then I'll
leave you to your... primping. You running late, you know."
Nathan glared into the mirror, checking his appearance one last time. Bennet
was already gone, but he couldn't refrain from grumbling, "I don't primp."
Downstairs, for once Claire and Peter were ready and waiting. Well, if you
counted furiously trying to finish Calc homework – come on, Pete, you had all
weekend – and sleepily munching on toast as ready. It was a lot better than
usual, however, and not altogether hard to break up so Nathan could hustle them
out to the car.
The commute to school out in Hartsdale was generally very boring, with the
added bonus that traffic jams could result in insane, ridiculous tardiness if
they didn't hit exactly the right window in New York City traffic. It would
probably be easier if any of them took a zero hour class, since traffic would
be even lighter earlier, but Nathan was fairly sure that the amount of coffee
needed to keep either Claire or Peter awake at that hour would be fatal.
Which was half the reason that, late or not, they didn't skip their regularly
scheduled stop at for coffee.
Claire huddled to one side of the backseat in Nathan's town car, face deep into
her latte, while Peter balanced his book on his knees, squinting in annoyance
at his integrals. Neither touched the entire trip.
Bennet's task would be easier than Nathan thought.
Relaxing into the driver's seat as they turned onto I-87, Nathan watched them
in the rear view mirror. There was an idea he wanted to run past them.
"Hey, Pete, you almost done?"
"Nope," Peter said with a grimace, shoving his paper into his book and closing
it. "What's up?"
"I was thinking of asking Tracy to the prom."
Peter's eyes flicked to the side, sneaking a quick look at Claire. Unaware of
the attention, she merely frowned.
"Why would you do that?" she asked at the same time Peter asked more
derisively, "And what makes you think she'd say yes?"
"I have a plan," Nathan assured Peter.
Claire pushed her knees hard into the back of Nathan's seat, prodding him to
answer her question as well.
"Why?" she repeated.
"She's hot," Nathan said simply. "What's it to you?"
Claire huffed out an angry breath, ready to begin an unexpected tirade before
Peter gave her a quick, quelling look. Whatever her problem was, he'd probably
offered to solve it himself. Yeah, right, Pete. Try that white knight routine
somewhere else.
"I don't know," she conceded eventually. "I just don't like her."
They passed the rest of the commute in silence, Nathan pulling them into the
Class President parking space he'd managed to allocate for himself early on,
before Tracy started opposing him in earnest. They walked together to the iron
wrought gate in the brick wall circling the school, before Peter spotted Isaac
and Simone walking arm in arm and jogged off to join them.
Claire, spotting Zach, waved and started to walk over to him before Nathan took
her by the arm, holding her up. Face scrunched in annoyance, she asked, "What?"
He jerked his head toward Peter's retreating form.
"Did he say who he's going to prom with?"
Guarded, she replied, "He's going with Isaac and Simone, as friends. For the
newspaper."
"Ah."
Well, Nathan would just have to put an end to that. Suddenly his plan for
convincing Tracy acquired another, very appealing dimension.
***
He didn't actually see her until fourth period. First, he had Calc where he
stoically ignored Peter's pleading glances to let him copy the end of the
assignment while Mr. Neuenberg called roll. Then Euro with Mr. Raines, eyes
continually drawn to the door leading to Peter's darkroom, stomach tightening
while he considered just how Peter earned that privilege. AP Bio with
Mohinder's father.
Fourth hour was actually Nathan's one blow off class, Public Speaking. He
already had his communications credit in Spanish, but he didn't feel up to
burdening himself either with a useless elective or another AP, so he opted for
an easy A where he could coast if he chose, or refine his rhetoric to razor
sharpness.
For the latter goal, luckily enough, Tracy had apparently followed a similar
line of reasoning. They ended up quietly measuring their speeches against one
another more often than not, to the point where the class was now little more
than a forum for their verbal sparring.
Nathan slid into the desk next to where Tracy sat, long hair shading her face
as she wrote furiously, far from his customary seat on the other side of the
room. He watched her work for a long moment, waiting for her to look up. She
was a very formidable opponent, and he couldn't deny how attractive that was to
him.
Her arm darted out, pushing a piece of paper under his nose.
"Sign this."
Nathan frowned, taking it and turning it right side up to read.
"What is it?"
Tracy stopped writing to sigh, glaring up at him. "It's your executive
privilege. I had Mr. Bishop sign off on it earlier. It's just up to you to sign
and date it so we can file it. Parliamentary procedure."
"Right," Nathan said, reading over the memo.
"It's the same as the one I sent you yesterday," Tracy said, bored by his
paranoia. Yet that wasn't enough to convince him. He slanted her a look telling
her that he knew her too well to simply believe that.
It was, however, the same. Nathan signed it with a flourish. Tracy held out an
indifferent hand, eyes already back on her other notes. Nathan handed over the
paper, but held tight enough to regain her attention as she looked up in
annoyance.
"Was there something else?" she asked.
Nathan relaxed against the metal bar attaching the desk to the chair, eyes
flicking briefly to the front of the class to confirm that he still had time.
The clock above the podium ticked forward, giving only a few more minutes for
passing.
"You want to be President," Nathan stated.
"I will be President, actually. My campaign is going well."
"But it could be going better," Nathan corrected. "Right now, the school
doesn't even care. The only thing they are paying attention to is prom, and the
only people they are looking to elect are prom king and queen."
Tracy shrugged. "There's still plenty of time."
"Not for you, there isn't."
Eyes narrowed, Tracy's voice dropped to a whisper, "What did you do?"
Nathan grinned viciously.
"Nothing. I don't have to. After voting for sweet, honest Niki, who in their
right mind would vote for an ambitious shark like you, Tracy? No one."
It was like the choice between Peter and Nathan, one Nathan was still glad the
school hadn't voted on. People had an unfortunate tendency to want to protect
Peter, frequently from Nathan himself.
A laugh bubbled up from beneath her sneer. "So what are you proposing,
sabotage? She's my sister, you idiot."
Nathan just shook his head, fingers twirling a pencil. His eyes went to the
front of the room again, and he pretended to prepare for class. As an aside, he
said, "There is another way, though."
There was a long, quiet moment where the only thing Nathan could hear was Matt
chuckling with Hiro over a comic book. Finally, Tracy surrendered to her
curiosity, "And what's that, Petrelli?"
Casually, Nathan turned once more. He reached out, brushing back loose strands
of blond hair from her annoyed expression.
"Go to the prom with me."
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Summary
     After Peter publishes a near disastrous article in the school
     newspaper about Nathan's illicit affairs on campus, Nathan plots
     revenge. But with both prom and the anniversary of their father's
     death coming up, the plot quickly becomes twisted for both of them,
     emotionally and psychologically. HIGH SCHOOL AU
Part 2 - The Plan
Nathan and Tracy spent lunch laying out their plan in the Special Education
resource room, their hushed conversation drawing curious and confused looks
from Dr. Suresh just the same as from Daphne and Ando. Sitting at a table
diagonal to Nathan and Tracy, West pulled out his phone, not very covertly
taking a photo, most likely to send on to Peter.
Nathan never liked that guy, anyway.
The plan was this: step one, charm offensive. They had to lay the ground work
of reminding the students that Niki wasn't the only Sanders sister in the
school, and not the only nice Sanders sister either. Baked goods figured into
this portion of the plan fairly strongly.
Step two was finding a way to subtly remind the school just who the Petrellis
were. Nathan didn't really think anyone had forgotten, per se, but he didn't
want to take it for granted that he was royalty. It needed to come from the
student body first. Tracy was thinking a grass roots, viral campaign was the
best choice here. They'd have to charm a couple of underclassmen into repeating
the meme that Petrellis, by their nature, deserved to be crowned – that
Nathan's date did as well would naturally follow.
"Step three," Nathan explained, "is the easy one. We need an editorial,
preferably from Simone or Isaac instead of Peter, endorsing you for President."
Tracy added that step to her outline, highlighting it yellow and adding a
bullet point. She frowned down at it.
"Isn't that skipping ahead?"
Nathan shook his head, smiling inwardly. Already they were working together,
like a real team.
"Tracy, you don't want the paper to pick you for prom queen. If anyone thinks
you're actually after Niki's crown, it'll make you look petty, and then you'll
lose both elections. If it looks like this is part of your Presidential
campaign, students will make you queen without ever realizing that was part of
your agenda."
Tracy's expression had flickered at the word "petty", but now a wicked smile
was sliding across her lips.
"You're good," she said, voice low and promising.
Nathan swallowed, trying not to show just how much of a reaction that provoked.
Eyes intense on hers, he offered a tight smile as he leaned forward.
"You're not bad yourself," he murmured, brushing a kiss across her mouth.
The kiss would have to remain brief, because Nathan found himself jerked away
from Tracy suddenly, pulled from his seat and hauled around to face his
brother.
His very angry brother.
"What the hell, Pete?" Nathan snapped, pushing him away and straightening his
uniform jacket.
Peter rolled his eyes disdainfully, showing just what he thought of Nathan's
show of innocence.
"You know," he started with conversational sarcasm, "as far as revenge goes,
this is pretty lame. The Senate minutes? You think anyone in school cares about
the Senate?"
You couldn't wait to do this at home? Nathan thought, annoyed on many levels.
"You clearly do."
Anger thrummed up Peter's body, and his fist clenched. Nathan braced for the
swing, eyes flicking over to where Mr. Suresh was rising from his desk, to West
snapping yet more photos. Peter's eyes followed, and he restrained himself,
taking a few deep breaths.
Eventually, Peter looked up through his hair and smirked. "I care because you
just gave me a new front page story: 'Petrelli Administration Secrecy Hides New
Executive Privilege.' And they care because it's the only prom they'll ever
have. No one wants to hear that you suddenly have all the power you need to
screw it up for them."
Nathan startled. "Who told you about that?"
The whole point of keeping Peter from getting the minutes was that he wasn't
supposed to know what happened in that meeting.
Peter shook his head, chuckling, and turned to leave. At the door, always fond
of the theatrical, he cast a look back over his shoulder, eyes big and honest,
tone self-righteous as he said, "Why Nathan, I'd never betray my source."
And the problem was, it could have been anyone in the Senate. Most of them
liked Peter a damn sight more than Nathan. He shifted his gaze from the door
Peter was disappearing through, to the table where Daphne and Ando sat. Ando
offered a wide, strained "Please don't blame me" smile and Daphne just waved
cheerily, oblivious to the stakes.
Probably not Ando. He wasn't the betraying type. But that still left Heidi,
Mohinder, Meredith...
And Tracy.
Nathan glared down at her. Tracy, who had drawn a nail file from her bag,
shrugged lightly, continuing her manicure as she admitted, "Hey, we weren't
allies until about an hour ago."
"You realize," he said tightly, "you just made step three much harder than it
needs to be."
Eyes on the nearly filed nails of her right hand, she reached out with her left
to tug him down to sit once more. Blowing nail dust from her hand, she said
indifferently, "We'll think of something."
Disgruntled, Nathan leaned his arms onto the table, glaring at West until the
boy turned away.
"And by 'something' you mean blackmail?" he asked. That sounded good right now.
"Obviously," she said dismissively. Nathan's mind was still spinning with
possibilities, however. "No, the real problem is how we pull off number two.
Groundswells of support aren't exactly predictable. Do you know how many times
corporations have tried to go viral and made themselves into laughing stocks?
We need to plan carefully."
Nathan stared into the distance, barely listening to what Tracy was saying. His
bargain with Noah Bennet swirled in his mind, twisting together with his
jealousy over Peter's prom plans. A plan – a complicated, convoluted plan that
Bennet wouldn't be entirely happy with – began to form.
But Nathan didn't really care about making Bennet happy. And if this worked, he
might just kill three or four birds with one stone.
"Tracy," he interrupted, "I know we need to do. But first, I need you to tell
me what your problem with Claire Bennet is."
***
After the last bell, Nathan asked all of the freshmen he knew by name – all two
of them – until a bystander took pity on him and told him where Claire's locker
was. He'd tried texting Peter earlier, but he was still in a snit, sending
back, "LOL USE UR EXEC PRIV."
Brat.
Claire and Zach stood by her open locker in the east wing of the school, one of
the older, more institutional parts of the building. The cool, white stone
arches and pale aqua stripe down the wall made this corridor feel more like an
asylum or a prison than a school. Everyone always joked that was why the
Psychology class always did experiments here, but there was more truth to the
old joke than most students knew.
The Company once put this building to very different purposes.
Spotting Nathan, Claire sighed and closed her locker door.
"I'm ready, okay?" She turned to Zach, saying, "I'll talk to you later online."
"No, Claire, we're not leaving yet. I just wanted to talk to you."
Claire and Zach shared a look, before she said slowly, "You wanted to talk?"
Nathan glowered. "Yes. Talk. Is that somehow confusing?"
"No, no!" Claire said, tone indulgent. "It's just... new."
There was a reason Nathan left whole categories of life to Peter to deal with,
particularly "nice" and "talking to Claire."
"Yeah, well, I have an offer for you. And for Zach," he added, when he saw the
boy trying to inch away. "How would you like to go to prom?"
"Together?" Zach yelped, eyes wide. Claire laughed, punching him in the
shoulder.
"No, not together, you dork." She turned back to Nathan, sudden concern in her
green eyes. "Right?"
Nathan shook his head, muttering under his breath about teenagers, irony not
lost on him. "No, not together. Just you, Claire. And before you joke about
Tracy turning me down, no, not with me. With Peter."
"Uh, Nathan, I know you're President and everything, but I don't think you have
that kind of authority."
"And didn't you, like, have a huge fight with him?" Zach interjected. "It's all
over school. He just walked into the Specials room and sucker punched you."
Goddamn West. If he was going to take pictures, couldn't he at least send them
out with the real story?
Nathan gestured to his unblemished face. "Do I look like I was sucker punched?"
Zach leaned in close to scrutinize Nathan before Claire grabbed him, pulling
him back. She fixed Nathan with a considering look. She was Bennet enough to
know he wouldn't offer something he couldn't deliver; Petrelli enough to know
there would be a price.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Make Tracy popular," Nathan directed a look down at Zach, ignoring Claire's
sputtering indignance. "And I need you to make a campaign video."
"She kept me off the drill team!" Claire objected.
"For prom queen?" Zach asked.
Nathan shook his head. "No, for President. And make sure to keep filming
between takes. Try to be as funny as possible. We're going to need the
outtakes."
"Nathan! How the hell am I supposed to make that bitch popular?"
"Think of something. Or no prom and no Peter," Nathan said, "Now, are you ready
to go?"
"Yeah," she huffed out sullenly.
They spent the walk out to the car in silence, Nathan deeply satisfied with the
deal he'd struck (as long as Bennet didn't find out about it and kill him,
anyway) and Claire rather less so. It was only when Nathan opened the door that
Claire spoke up again.
"You know, you didn't offer Zach anything."
Nathan grinned into the rear view mirror; Peter was running out into the
parking lot, looking like he thought Nathan really would leave without him.
"I know."
***
The sounds coming from the darkroom were muffled, but definite. Tracy raised an
eyebrow, opening her mouth to speak, but Nathan hushed her to stay quiet as
they inched toward the locked room at the back of Mr. Raines's classroom.
Nathan ran his thumb over the teeth of the key copy Peter had given him. This
really wasn't what his brother had intended with that gesture.
"You Petrellis certainly have interesting extra-curriculars," Tracy whispered.
Nathan smiled to himself. "You have no idea."
Simone's moans intensified, long, breathy sounds punctuated by murmuring that
he knew was Peter. A clatter, the kind that came from a couple passionately
knocking over delicate instruments, sounded. It was difficult not to imagine
the position they were in, not to think about how a woman felt around him, how
Peter felt against him.
Her cries crested with a scream, leaving both Nathan and Tracy staring at the
door, pretending they couldn't hear how loudly the other was breathing. Nathan
shifted awkwardly, counting down slowly to himself.
The room felt too hot.
The point was to catch them in flagrante, but Nathan suddenly wasn't sure how
much he could stand to see. He waited, willing his heart to slow. It wouldn't
exactly help his credibility to burst in on Peter and Simone with a fucking
hard-on.
"Do you think they're," Tracy licked her lips. She looked flushed. "Do you
think they're done?"
There hadn't been any sound from Peter, and he didn't exactly tend to be quiet.
"I think so," Nathan lied. "Get the camera ready."
Tracy fumbled slightly with the camera, bringing it up to check the settings.
She nodded tersely to Nathan, and he edged forward, sliding the key silently
into the lock. He turned it, turning the tumbler over with a click that seemed
all too loud, and then flinging the door open. At his side, the camera flashed
multiple times, compensating for the red light and shadows of the darkroom.
They barely seemed to notice.
Simone's panties hung from the pointed toe of one of her Jimmy Choos, dipping
dangerously close to the floor, black lace grazing white tile. She was perched
on the darkroom counter, jars and developing bins pushed haphazardly to the
wall, metal measuring spoons for the chemicals scattered across the floor at
her feet. Her arms were splayed wide, hands tense as she braced against Peter;
her fingernails leaving small half-circles in the Formica.
Her red mouth was open wide under Peter's in a kiss as he pressed in, bending
her back, fingers knotted in her hair. Her uniform skirt was hiked high, one
leg wrapped around Peter's clothed waist. Her eyelids fluttered as she broke
the kiss, gasping. Peter groaned low in his throat, moving to kiss down her
throat, white of his teeth flashing.
There was a very obvious sheen of wetness on his mouth and face that conjured
up images of Peter on his knees, head between her thighs.
Nathan's trousers suddenly felt awkwardly tight.
He cleared his throat, once, trying to banish that mental picture, and again
hoping that would be enough to break them apart. He didn't want to resort to
shouting, "Hey, pay attention while we blackmail you!"
Luckily, Tracy saved him from that.
"Well, don't you make a pretty picture," she said, twirling the slim digital
camera around her finger on its rope.
The couple froze, tension stiffening their posture.
"Fuck," Peter breathed into Simone's hair, right before she pushed him away,
mortified blush coloring her face, hands smoothing her skirt down again.
"Yes, that does seem to be the problem," Tracy replied.
Peter glared at her. Nathan wished he'd wipe his mouth. Instead, Peter caught
his eye, gaze flicking down to where Nathan's erection tented his pants before
coming back up, expression a dangerous, aroused dare for Nathan to keep this
up.
Nathan felt his temper flare. Peter was flirting with him in front of Tracy. In
front of his own girlfriend. Shameless.
"What is this about?" Simone asked angrily, voice a lot steadier than Nathan
would have given her credit for.
"The prom," Tracy said.
"More specifically," Nathan continued, breathing barely controlled, eyes still
locked with Peter's, "The prom court. And how you two are going to get us
there."
Peter tilted his head, eyes dark as he examined his brother. He reached out his
hand ever so slightly, running his fingers over the small divots Simone had
left, satisfied smile curving his lips.
Nathan lost his train of thought, staring at Peter's long fingers, that
evidence of his infidelity.
"How?" Simone asked.
"Just a simple editorial. Something about what a wonderful President I'd make,
how I'm softer around the edges than you'd think. The surprising support I have
for prom queen from the underclassmen..."
"Oh," Simone said cuttingly. "So you want us to make shit up?"
Tracy shrugged lightly next to Nathan, and he heard a click as she opened the
camera. Briefly, he shifted his gaze over to see her toying with the camera
memory card.
"Unless you two want Isaac seeing this... yes. Exactly."
"Isaac knows," Peter interjected. "He won't care. You don't have anything to
bargain with, Nathan."
But Simone shifted uncertainly next to him.
"Knowing and seeing are two different things," Nathan said; Peter smirked at
the double meaning, but conceded the point with a quick duck of his head.
"So, how does the Friday edition sound?" Tracy offered, cheerful.
Simone stooped down to the floor, retrieving her underwear, and walked out of
the darkroom, a hard, deliberate knock into Tracy's shoulder her only response
as she brushed past. Peter barely seemed to notice her go. He'd pay for that
later, if Nathan knew anything about Simone.
Tracy swiveled on her heels, linking her arm through Nathan's, hugging him
quickly.
"I thought that went well," she murmured into his ear, breasts pressing against
his side. Yeah, like he needed to be thinking harder about sex.
"Yeah," he said with some difficulty, shaking her off. "Uh, me and Pete need to
have a little talk. You understand, right?"
"Oh. I guess." She shot a look between them, misinterpreting the dark
expression on Peter's face. "Try not to kill each other before I get elected."
[oh, boys]
Nathan held Peter's gaze silently until the last echoes of her footsteps faded,
before moving swiftly into the red lit darkroom, locking the door behind
himself.
Peter was on him just as quickly, backing him up against the door, hands
furious on his belt, mouth on his until Nathan shoved him away forcibly.
"I don't want to taste her," he ground out. "Wipe your mouth."
Peter wiped the back of his hand across his lips, making a show of licking what
little there was left from his own skin until Nathan growled in annoyance. He
slapped Peter's hand down, lifting up Peter's tie to rub it across Peter's
face, all too aware that the offending moisture was already dry.
When he pulled back, Peter's lips looked full, bruised, too red in this light
and Nathan couldn't resist pulling Peter into a biting kiss.
"You hate it, don't you?" Peter whispered, hands creeping up under Nathan's
shirt, fingers tracing his ribs lightly. "The idea that I'm not always yours.
You can't always control me."
"Why didn't you come to me earlier?" Nathan returned, ignoring the question.
"You should have figured out about the minutes earlier. At home."
"So that's what that was about?" Peter laughed. He slipped back from Nathan,
unbuttoning his shirt before loosening his tie. "You just wanted to get me on
my knees?"
That made it sound a lot less like carefully crafted revenge.
"You should have come to me."
Peter took his tie off, still looped in a perfect half Windsor knot, and handed
it to Nathan. He shed his shirt, leaving him bare chested. He didn't give
Nathan any time to admire, leaning up to kiss Nathan, walking them backward to
the counter until his own hip hitched up against it.
His breath was hot in Nathan's ear as he murmured, "Why would I come to you,
when I could get Isaac to bend me over in here first?"
The silk of the tie felt good in Nathan's hands. Better as he brought it up to
secure Peter's hands behind his back. Peter gave a short, happy grunt as Nathan
pulled the material tight.
"You didn't."
"Right here. Yesterday."
Nathan knew it was a lie, but that hardly mattered. He wrapped the tie around
one hand, winding up the loose material, jerking Peter hard to one side, making
him twist against the counter until his back strained. He kept a hand hard on
Peter's hip, trapping him.
Peter's hair brushed against Nathan's face as he nuzzled the line of Peter's
neck, breathing so fucking loud it echoed in Nathan's ears.
"Show me," Nathan snapped, pulling back.
Peter looked delighted at the idea.
"That's what he said," he said. "'Show me what Nathan does. Show me how your
brother fucks you.' He loves pretending he's you."
Nathan's breathing shuddered to a halt as he stared in horror at Peter, at the
sweet half-smile on Peter's face, that lying slant to his mouth as he just
begged to get hit. He was truly tempted, but that wasn't a line he was ready to
cross just yet. No matter how much Peter wanted it.
"Liar," he whispered hoarsely.
"Maybe," Peter admitted, writhing in Nathan's grasp, trying to push his cock
against Nathan's, searching for friction.
Angry, harder than he'd ever been in his life, Nathan stepped away from Peter,
tugging hard at the tie. Peter crashed down to his knees. And it had to hurt.
It had to, but that moan from Peter didn't sound unhappy at all.
Nathan touched Peter's face wonderingly, fingers light and hesitant. When Peter
got like this, it was the most confusing, terrifying, hottest thing he'd ever
seen. And, lately, he was always like this.
Peter turned his face into the touch, kissing Nathan's fingers before looking
up at Nathan with half-lidded, amused eyes.
"So, you don't want to fuck me?" he asked, voice so low Nathan almost couldn't
hear it over the rush of blood in his ears. Ridiculous fucking question. They
both knew the answer, both knew why they didn't do that.
Nathan walked around Peter, the lead of the tie forcing Peter to turn
uncomfortably in place. He fell forward slightly when Nathan found his way back
against the counter, tie taut between them, but Peter didn't move to make
himself more comfortable.
"Come here," he commanded, feeling an odd emptiness as he watched Peter obey.
He tried not to tremble as he unbuckled his belt, tried not to show how afraid
he was. This power Peter granted him... sometimes it was just too much. He
sighed as he worked his trousers down, finally feeling the pressure binding his
cock relieved.
Nathan's throat worked as he swallowed, breathing harsh and dry in his own
ears. He ignored the self-satisfied look in Peter's dark eyes as Peter watched,
inching forward on his knees, tongue coming out to wet his lips.
Peter leaned into him, mouth against Nathan's boxers, tongue wet as it circled
the head of Nathan's cock where it poked out. Nathan groaned, putting his hand
against Peter's face to guide him, only to drop it as soon as Peter grunted his
disapproval. Fuck. The tie. Nathan was still holding it, contorting Peter's
position weirdly.
He dropped it, and Peter hummed happily, licking at Nathan until he got
frustrated enough to pull the material down with his teeth, giving himself full
access to Nathan's cock.
"Show me," Nathan said with a soft groan. His hands scrabbled for purchase.
"What did you actually do?"
Peter pulled back, not looking the slightest bit innocent as he looked up.
"Nothing at all," he said, same lying smile on his face, right before he
covered Nathan's cock with his hot mouth, taking him deep.
"Fuck," Nathan breathed, fingers finding the same little half circles Simone's
nails had left.
***
"Are you always like that with your brother?" Tracy asked while he recuperated,
carefully reapplying her lipstick, eyes critical on her small reflection in her
compact.
Panting turned to coughing for Nathan. Giving up on retucking his shirt, he
turned to stare at her. Peter talked a good game, but he wouldn't. He wasn't
that fucked in the head.
No really.
"What?"
She corrected her lip line with her thumb nail before turning a frown on him,
eyes quizzical. Mr. Bishop's Civics and student government classroom wasn't
nearly as secluded a make out spot as the darkroom, but at least the lighting
was better. Kissing Tracy, having her slap his hands away when he tried to slip
them under her blouse, feeling her take command in crisp daylight was almost a
relief compared to his dark, lewd encounters with Peter of late.
"Intense. Involved. I mean, I love my sister, but I don't keep track of her
every move, and I certainly don't know enough about what she's doing with DL to
corner them together, even if I wanted to. Why do you care so much about what
he's up to?"
"It's my job to look out for him," Nathan muttered, still unsettled. Stiffly,
he tried to straighten his tie.
Tracy's laugh was sharp. "Oh, is that why we're blackmailing him?"
Nathan tore the tie off in frustration, undoing the knot and glaring it. Tracy
sighed and slid from the Senate meeting table. She held her hand out
expectantly, ignoring Nathan's sulkiness as he handed it over. She popped his
collar up, fingers grazing lightly, provocatively across his throat while she
slid the tie back on. She'd lost her heels at some point, but she was near his
height even without them, her breath warm against his cheek as she leaned
close.
"A better retort," she explained, "would have been that keeping track of him is
helping me, so why should I care?"
"Why do you care?" he asked softly, watching her bright blue eyes for any signs
of dangerous understanding. "It was days ago. Why are you even still thinking
about it?"
Tracy tightened the knot with a flourish, hard and constricting around Nathan's
throat – not enough to choke. Not quite. Her delicate fingers held for just a
moment too long.
"Because," she said, voice quiet, suspicious, "it's too good."
"You think I'm going to stab you in the back?"
"Quicker than you'd stab your brother in the back," Tracy said, releasing him
with an ungentle push.
"Then you really don't know the first thing about my brother and me." Nathan
chuckled, shaking his head. Tracy did not look mollified, but off balance was a
good place to have her. He had no illusions about just how tenuous their
alliance was. "Come on. Claire and Zach reserved the AV room for the rest of
lunch. We need to take another stab at the campaign video."
"Fine," Tracy said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "But I don't see the
point. We already have enough for a rough cut."
Nathan sighed, explaining, "The point was never the ad. We need to get you to
loosen up, to get some outtakes of you acting natural for the viral vids."
"This is me being natural," Tracy snapped frostily.
That's the problem, Nathan didn't say, hand going to the small of her back to
guide her into the empty hallway. Not for the first time, Nathan considered
sneaking some booze into the filming session.
***
The small uptown boutique Nathan escorted Claire to that afternoon was spare
and clean in the way only truly expensive stores were – an attendant quietly
tailing each of their handful of customers, the lighting bright but not harsh,
mirrors ever present. He half wished he could have convinced Claire to go
vintage, but she was still cutting her teeth on the Petrelli lifestyle, too
sure that pricier and more famous was better than classically elegant.
It was not that Bennet didn't make good money – Ma always made sure her men
were well looked after. But life in the suburbs had been far different for
Claire than Manhattan was. Sometimes there was a wistful, sad look in her eyes
that made Nathan wonder if she truly preferred all the money, her new family.
And other times she seemed all too glad of it. Like when she asked his brother
out.
Nathan narrowed his eyes at the curved nook where Claire dressed and redressed
from a rack full of gowns, a thin Japanese partition all that separated them.
He still didn't understand why Peter had refused her, and it was starting to
eat at him, the feeling of victory fading fast, undercut by the kind of
insecurity Petrellis weren't supposed to feel.
Sex with Peter in the darkroom continued to haunt Nathan, keeping him up the
night before, and not in the more pleasurable way he preferred. Peter wanted
Nathan to control him. To hurt him.[omg, pretty!]
As you wish, he thought almost viciously.
The click of high heels resounded against the tile, drawing Nathan's attention.
"How does it look?" Claire asked, giggling and twirling floor length blue silk.
Marchesa, if Nathan wasn't mistaken. The silver sequined detailing on the bust
and thin straps glittered, lit from beneath and above just so by the clever
architects of the store.
Nathan felt a pit form in his stomach, head feeling heavy and hot as he stared
at her. She was beautiful.
He shrugged non-committally.
"It makes you look short."
"Thanks." Claire's jaw worked, but she shook it off, opting for a smile. She
stuck a bare foot out from under the hem of her dress, wiggling her toes. "And
it won't if I get shoes to go with it."
"I am not buying you new shoes. Choose something that matches what you already
have," he said with a barely restrained groan.
Rather than pout, Claire shrugged. Just testing the boundaries.
She disappeared behind the screen once more, and Nathan tried to ignore the
slim shadow she cast, the sound of fabric rustling. He averted his eyes to his
shoes.
"So, how's the campaign going?"
"So," she returned, voice pitched rather louder than he'd like, "why are you
doing this for me?"
Nathan grimaced, still studying the scuffed leather of his shoe. Why wasn't a
question he liked to think about. His need to control Peter only excused so
much. Why was he pushing his brother into her arms?
The sound of rustling stopped, drawing Nathan's attention. Claire poked her
head around the screen, hands clutched up to her chest, holding up her dress,
silhouette leaving far too little to Nathan's imagination.
"And, more importantly, how? Does Peter even know he's asking me?" she asked,
expression skeptical.
Smiling to cover the relief he felt, Nathan replied, "Let me worry about that."
"Uh huh. No. If Peter doesn't know, then what's he going to think when he sees
me bring this dress home? He'll think I have a date!"
"About that," Nathan said, fixing her with a look. "We're going in the back. We
need to hide this, and not just from Peter. From Bennet, too."
"What did you do?"
"Actually, it's what your father did. He asked me to keep you and Peter apart."
Claire's eyes widened in shock, hands nearly forgetting the clothes they kept
wrapped around her. This part was tricky, not in the least because Nathan
wasn't entirely sure it was the best move. But he needed a scapegoat, an ally,
for if this went south. Better to pit Claire against Bennet for that
eventuality than against himself. He'd have his own hands full with Peter.
And more importantly, he needed to know just how badly she wanted this.
"But why would he do that?"
"He doesn't want you to get hurt," Nathan said, eyes steady on hers.
"Peter would never hurt me!"
Claire huffed out, posture relaxing from surprise into anger and then into
plotting. Nathan relaxed as well. He was very familiar with this brand of
Bennet family discord – the overprotective, controlling father; the rebellious,
yet loyal daughter – and he knew enough to realize that Claire would pave all
the roads he needed for him.
"Thanks, Nathan," she said stiffly, eyes distant as she considered her next
move, lips a hard, thin line. "For telling me."
She stepped back behind the partition, finally zipping her dress all the way
up, and she stepped back out again, hand on her hip, expression almost snide as
she waited for his response. A shorter dress, rosy pink, fell almost to her
knees in wide, puffy pleats.
"Very 'Leave It To Beaver'," Nathan quipped. "And here I thought you didn't
want vintage."
"Just following your rules. I think I have red pumps that match this one."
"You can't wear a dress that short to prom, you know."
"Short is okay if it's retro," Claire said, rolling her eyes. Nathan was fairly
sure she just made that up. "Make sure to get Peter to wear a red tie, okay?"
Easy as that, she was his. Nathan inclined his head, acknowledging the
concession of power – he could make this happen for her, and he would. He just
needed a little help from her first.
"Pete looks good in red," he admitted.
Claire grinned. "He does the whole Snow White thing very well."
Nathan let a long silence stretch between them, shifting in his seat for show,
pretending to work up courage for his next words. In truth, it was hard to
commit himself to this. He never liked hurting Peter, no matter what Peter
said. He just tried to do what was best for his little brother.
"Claire," he started, looking down and then away. "There's something else you
should know. I promised your Dad that I wouldn't let you get hurt."
"Yeah, you said..."
Nathan licked his lips, looking up at her. "But I think this will hurt you,
going with Peter."
Claire shook her head slowly, long blond curls moving in a cascade over her
bare shoulders. She frowned at him. "Then why are you helping?"
"I think going with Peter will hurt you if he's not really there with you. He
and Simone and Isaac aren't going as friends, Claire," he said, injecting pity
into his voice. "They're a couple. A threesome. Even if he goes with you, he'll
really be there with them.
"But we could change that."
Claire sat heavily next to Nathan on the stylized, white pouffe. She knew that
Peter was with them right now, in an ostensible newspaper meeting, which Nathan
had pointed out to Claire as the best time to whisk her off on a shopping trip.
And now, he knew, it was irresistible for her to think about just what Peter
was doing elsewhere. Kissing and touching, limbs of three bodies tangled
together.
Suppressing his own jealousy, it was somehow satisfying to see its mirror in
Claire's expression.
"You want to break them up?"
Arm around her, he hugged her to his side and breathed lightly into her hair,
"Don't you?"
He needed to know how much she wanted this. Nathan always liked to know who his
rivals were.
But Claire didn't respond. After a long moment, Nathan decided to take another
tack.
"How is it in the trenches? Anyone swaying to Tracy's side?"
Relieved to have a new topic, Claire said, "A few. Alex messaged me in shock
yesterday when she smiled at him, so people are definitely noticing a change.
Zach isn't happy with the video, though. He says the part with you two singing
Bowie is usable, but could cut both ways."
"Saying she will be queen was over the top?" Nathan asked wryly.
Claire snorted indelicately, not bothering to reply.
"Well," he sighed. "I suppose it's down to Simone's editorial, then. The first
draft Peter showed me was decent, but it could definitely improve. I may have
to have another talk with her," Nathan deliberately caught Claire's eye as he
added, "Those blackmail photos are burning a hole in my hard drive."
"Why am I not surprised you blackmailed her to get her to agree to that?"
Claire asked. Nathan could see the wheels start to spin, and congratulated
himself on a game well played.
But still a dangerous one. He didn't know why Peter rejected Claire. It simply
made no sense. And he was convinced it wasn't permanent.
Hurting Peter he could live with. Losing him, he could not, but he had to know
it was all for real. That he had something Claire didn't. That he was more
worthy of Peter's love.
***
Nathan woke three times in the night.
First, it was his cell phone buzzing off his end table, falling to the hard
wood with a loud, plastic clack. Nathan groped in the darkness, leaning over
the bed to retrieve it. Squinting at the too bright LCD screen, he chuckled as
he read Claire's message: "Peter will never forgive us."
Only one response came to mind – "What do you mean us?" – but that would be
rather counter productive.
With a sigh and smile, he flopped back down, dropping his phone next to his
pillow and falling deeply, satisfyingly asleep.
The second time he awoke, it was like a reflex, his subconscious reacting right
before the pin dropped, giving him just enough time to enjoy the flood of
pictures, texts, and scandalized exclamations that nearly gave his phone a
seizure of electronic excitement. Peter wasn't the only gossip monger in town,
Nathan noted as he scrolled through the messages, and Claire's bomb shell had
apparently already spread far and wide.
Swiping his thumb across the touch screen, Nathan navigated back to the
pictures he'd received, opening his favorite. Peter, on his knees, hands still
parting Simone's thighs, his own head tipped back as he licked his lips, cheeks
flushed red.
A thought to dream on.
Later, much later, Nathan woke again, head ringing with the memory of his
father's angry voice and angry hands. He stripped off his t-shirt, now sticky
with a cold sweat and stared into the darkness, face pillowed on his hand.
Anxiety and guilt curled in his stomach.
He didn't sleep again.
Fucking anniversary.
***** Prom, And Other Disasters *****
Chapter Summary
     After Peter publishes a near disastrous article in the school
     newspaper about Nathan's illicit affairs on campus, Nathan plots
     revenge. But with both prom and the anniversary of their father's
     death coming up, the plot quickly becomes twisted for both of them,
     emotionally and psychologically. HIGH SCHOOL AU
Part 3 – Priorities
Vision hazy, the world too sharp, Nathan made his way downstairs the next
morning with far more focus on sourcing the scent of coffee on the air than on
his victory the night before. Peter cornered him at the bottom of the stairs,
anger palpable and much more physical than usual, enough that Nathan
automatically retreated two steps up the stairs before stepping deliberately
back into Peter's space.
"What the fuck, Nathan? Since when do we play this way?" Peter snapped, nervous
energy underlying his anger.
He didn't look any more well rested than Nathan felt – but he hadn't for days
now, dark hair growing messier from frustrated, sleepless hands carding through
it, dark circles growing under his wide eyes, a fatigued shake that Nathan knew
too well in his every movement. Despite himself, Nathan felt a pang of regret.
They were both going through the same thing. Why was it so hard to bridge the
distance between them with anything other than power games and sex?
And yet, seeing Peter before him, disheveled, lip bitten red sometime in the
night as Peter tried to figure a way out of this, Nathan couldn't help the
sense of triumph that unfurled across his shoulders, straightening them as he
stared his brother down.
"I could ask you the same thing, Pete," Nathan returned coolly. "In fact, I
think I did. Right after you published my affair with Meredith in the school
newspaper."
Peter raked his hand through his hair, shaking his head as he denied the
charge, "That was different. You two broke up last year. No one got hurt!"
Nathan thought about claiming he'd been hurt, but ceding that kind of ground –
admitting that Peter's tactics were effective – wasn't exactly something he was
interested in doing, even had it been true.
Instead, he offered idly, "I thought you said Isaac wouldn't care."
"Yeah, that's why we wrote you the editorial! Because your blackmail scheme
didn't work!"
"Christ, Peter, keep it down, will you? Do you want Ma to hear?" Nathan asked.
When Peter's expression only grew more obstinate, jaw set and hair falling into
his sullen eyes, Nathan rephrased, "Do you want Claire to hear?"
Deflating some, Peter crossed his arms protectively over his chest. Looking
away, he muttered, "No."
Nathan reached out, settling both hands on Peter's shoulders. Catching Peter's
gaze, Nathan said firmly, "I did not send out those photos."
Peter searched his face, trying to find the lie, before slumping under his
hands in defeat, no less tense and angry than before, merely without a
convenient outlet.
"Why would Tracy do it?" he asked. "How is taking me down going to win her any
favors?"
"Are you sure it was her?" Nathan asked with a concerned frown. "If she put the
pictures on her computer, there would be a lot of people who have access.
Doesn't Niki have the entire drill team over to her house a lot?"
It was clear from his expression that Peter's hope of finding the culprit was
fading fast as he did the mental gymnastics, using his ridiculous knowledge of
the school's public and secret relationships to calculate just how many people
might have seen the photos before they were sent out if Nathan was right.
"Yeah," Peter said, eyes distant.
Swallowing past the knot of guilt in his throat, Nathan squeezed Peter's
shoulders, pulling him into a quick hug before wrapping an arm around his waist
to guide him to the kitchen, Peter's feet dragging the entire way. It was all
for the best, though, since Peter's downcast eyes prevented him from seeing
Claire's nervous scramble off her stool near the kitchen island. Nor did he see
the quelling look Nathan sent her.
"So you heard too?" Peter asked, lifting his eyes momentarily.
Claire nodded stiffly before throwing herself at Peter, hugging him tightly.
"Are you okay?" she asked into his shoulder.
Peter tucked her head under his chin, closing his eyes, tension leaving his
face.
"Yeah," he said. "I think I will be. I'm probably overreacting, right? It's not
a big deal."
"Still, though. You shouldn't have to go through this. I'm so sorry it's
hurting you," Claire said with mendacity Nathan had to admire.
Peter's thanks was muffled by her hair and they stood together a long moment.
Nathan watched, a muscle in his jaw twitching.
He cleared his throat softly. And if it sounded a little like a growl, well, he
was trying to suppress his annoyance. He didn't say anything about succeeding.
"Enough cuddling. We have to go."
They broke apart slowly, Claire still clinging to Peter's arm as they followed
Nathan out to the car. Road rage doesn't help anyone, Nathan reminded himself,
eyes on them in the rear view mirror all the way to school, hands gripping the
wheel so tightly the leather left imprints in his flesh.
They jerked to a near miss with another car more than once on the way out of
the city, Nathan cussing to himself and Peter rolling his eyes in the backseat.
He slowed, turning into the Monroe High parking lot. Not because it was a
parking lot – students still zipped around, heedless of the speed bumps – nor
because his temper was easing.
No, he slowed because he caught sight of the two tall, leggy women standing
before his parking space: Simone and Tracy. He'd rather hoped he could delay a
confrontation with them. At least until after he'd figured out what the hell he
was going to say.
The air between the girls fairly shimmered with repressed animosity. Or, maybe,
not so repressed, Nathan realized as he noticed the bunched and wrinkled collar
of Tracy's uniform jacket, Simone's mussed hair. He must have just missed the
cat fight.
With trepidation, he eased the car into his spot. Almost before he rolled to a
halt, Peter was jumping out, hurrying to Simone's side to join in glowering at
Tracy. Simone laced her fingers through Peter's, giving him a quick kiss and
jolting a jealous sigh from Claire, still in the car.
"You really thought you'd win him over with a hug?" Nathan asked, watching
Simone pull Peter away, acid seeping into his tone. "There's a reason he turned
you down for prom."
A reason Nathan still didn't know.
Claire glared at him in the rear view mirror, taking his tone to heart.
"You really suck at fishing for answers," she remarked, opening the door and
leaving without looking back.
Tracy cocked an eyebrow, hand on her hip as she stared Nathan down through the
windshield. He inclined his head toward the empty passenger seat. Like hell he
was going to have this discussion out in the open. Tracy's mouth twisted
sarcastically, before she straightened her shoulders, tossing her hair as she
walked over to the car door and sat beside him.
She crossed her arms and Nathan sighed.
"Pretend we aren't fighting, Trace. You don't want the gossips seeing us
fight."
"I don't need your advice, Petrelli," she warned, consciously relaxing her
posture nonetheless. "Now, explain."
Nathan considered for a moment. He'd gotten a copy of the editorial off of
Peter, forwarded it to Tracy – and he was more than sure Tracy had already
discussed that particular nuance with Simone during their apparent tussle. He
was sure that Tracy was uninterested in the more lurid motivations Nathan had,
or at least uninterested in the ones that were legal and he was willing to
admit to.
In the end, he settled on saying simply, "I convinced Claire to release the
photos."
"So Claire takes the heat? How did you get her to agree to that?"
Suppressing at smile at her priorities, Nathan said, "No one takes the heat. It
was an anonymous message. No one knows where it started."
"Which casts suspicion back on us! Simone and Peter have no reason to be doing
us any favors, and we need the culprit's identity to come from them."
Nathan stretched, laying an arm across Tracy's stiff shoulders, and smiled at
Daphne and Ando as they passed in front of the car.
"It will. I told Peter that the photos were on your computer, and that any one
of your or Niki's friends would have had access."
Tracy turned her head, nuzzling against his arm, eyes flashing with anger.
"You're blaming Niki."
"Don't start clutching your pearls now. Either you want to win, or you don't."
"I didn't realize you meddling in your little brother's love life had anything
to do with me winning."
Her hand crept across his thigh, fingernails making their presence known.
Nathan decided he'd rather end this conversation sooner rather than later.
"Think about it," he urged. "You know what happens next. The whole school is
buzzing, talking about those pictures. Niki's reputation is tarnished, and your
editorial is still going to press. It looks like Simone is choosing you over
her, and between that and whatever meltdown Isaac has over all of this,
everyone is going to be too busy choosing side to notice all of your very, very
obvious conniving.
"So," he said, removing her hand, fingers a hard vise around her thin wrist. He
leaned closer to her, brushing a whisper against her ear, "Get out there, and
connive."
***
Fourth period. Nathan had Public Speaking, and Peter had lunch. The day had
been calm so far. He was actually surprised it was taking this long.
He slid into his seat next to where Tracy sat, body half turned as she giggled
and smiled at an underclassman's joke. He'd seen her earlier, in the hall,
giving small helix-shaped class pins that were supposed to be reserved for
Senate members only to a group of cheerleaders. A smart move, if obvious. The
cheerleaders were the drill team's natural enemies, and Claire personally still
bore a grudge over being kept off the drill team.
It looked like Tracy had followed his advice.
"How's the courtship going?" he wrote, tossing a note into her lap.
She flashed an apologetic smile at the underclassman – Louis? Luke? Something
like that – and snatched up her pen, eye roll somehow infusing her words on the
paper: "They invited me to the prom makeovers. They're mine."
Nathan smoothed his thumb over the delicate loops of her writing, wondering at
the foreboding he felt. He'd never intended to betray Tracy – why bother, when
he accomplished so many of his own goals through her? But he still wasn't
entirely pleased at the idea of her success. Perhaps he was just as selfish as
Peter said. He could never be happy at anyone else's victory.
He welcomed the sound of shouting and commotion from the hallway. Students
murmuring and rushing to the door to peek out, Nathan rose more slowly,
sedately maneuvering past them right as something shattered violently nearby.
Students from Mr. Thompson's literature class across the way joined the already
curious onlookers.
Looking over Matt's shoulder, he could see a glitter of broken glass halfway
down the hall. The window of Mr. Raines's room.
"What's this about?" Matt asked.
Nathan frowned at Matt's profile. Sometimes he forgot that not everyone was in
the loop.
"Ask Audrey," he said, brushing it off, attention focused on the boys stumbling
past the broken door, out into the hallway.
"Son of a bitch!" Isaac swore, voice low but angry enough to carry as he took
another swing at Peter, glass grinding into the tile beneath his feet.
Revenge, Nathan couldn't help thinking, is sweet.
Peter grimaced, shifting just enough to avoid the blow. Even from this
distance, Nathan could see the hurt in his eyes, but Peter said nothing. His
posture was tense from all the watching eyes, and Nathan knew he wouldn't
publicly mention his own romantic involvement with Isaac. If Nathan had to
guess, trying that route was probably what led to the violence to begin with.
Simone was nowhere to be seen.
Peter cast a quick look behind him, feeling the shift in the crowd, sensing
Bennet try to push through the crush almost before Nathan saw him. Isaac took
the opening, laying Peter out with a swift hook to Peter's cheek.
"Fuck," Nathan swore, struggling past Matt to grab Isaac before he realized
what he was doing, knocking him to the floor and putting a knee in his back to
subdue him.
Gasping, Peter pulled himself to sit. He wiped blood from his face with raw
knuckles, making Nathan blink in surprise. He guessed Peter had gotten in a
couple of punches, after all.
"Thanks," Peter said, catching Nathan's eye.
"Enough of the floor show," Bennet called, cutting off Nathan's response. "Back
to class!"
He gestured sharply to the man following him, Hesam, the school nurse. Hesam
carefully levered Mr. Raines's door back open, going to attend whomever was
left in the wreckage Peter and Isaac had created. Nathan scowled after him,
quite sure that Peter was in need of more attention. Peter made to stand, eyes
following Hesam, anxious tension in the lines of his body.
"Simone! I need to see her. She's hurt!" Peter said, subsiding when Bennet
fixed him with quelling look, although Nathan could see he was biding his time,
trying to think when he would have an opportunity to get away and check on his
girlfriend.
Knee still in Isaac's back, he felt the other boy tremble at Simone's name. He
breathed with quiet self-recrimination, "Fuck."
The other students were quick to heed Bennet's orders, excited murmur following
them back to their classrooms, the seed of all the rumors to come.
Fluorescent light glinting off Bennet's glasses to obscure his eyes, he jerked
his chin up at Nathan, indicating that he should release Isaac. Giving him one
last, hard nudge in the back that provoked a grunt of pain, Nathan stood and
backed away, letting Isaac stand. Bennet helped Peter to his feet.
"You two, in my office. Nathan, go back to class."
"Sir," Nathan started, "Peter's hurt. He needs to see the nurse."
"I'm fine. I need to check on Simone," Peter insisted.
"After what I just saw, I don't think she's in any mood to see you," Noah said
harshly. He turned his gave to Nathan, adding, "And Hesam has other
priorities."
Balling his fist, Nathan stepped closer, placing a careful hand on Bennet's
elbow.
"Peter is my responsibility, sir," he said, subtle with his emphasis, trying
not to play this card too hard. He didn't want Peter to notice, but he couldn't
let Bennet think he'd forgotten their talk.
Bennet clearly hadn't. He considered their deal, letting out a long, "Hmm."
"Nathan, I'm fine," Peter protested, and it was all Nathan could do not to
shake him. He didn't need to start being upstanding and responsible now of all
times.
"Alright, Petrelli. You get that shiner of his checked out, take him home, and
make sure he's sorted before Angela gets home and tans my hide. Fighting is an
automatic week's suspension, and we'll sort out the rest tomorrow.
"And you," he said, taking a ruffled, still angry looking Isaac by the arm,
"are with me."
***
Peter sulked the whole car ride back into the city, shoulders slumped and face
turned away to hide the swelling on his right cheek. At a traffic light, Nathan
called ahead to the staff, giving them the afternoon off and asking just where
the first aid kit was anyway.
Taking pity on him, the staff left the kit on the foyer table, between the cut
lilies and the porcelain bowl Nathan dropped his keys into. Taking up the kit,
he looked back at his brother where he lingered on the threshold, one hand
curled around a metal twist in the door's ornate design, his other arm wrapped
around himself enough to cause Nathan concern.
"Did he get you in the ribs?"
Startled, Peter jerked away from the door, letting both arms fall to his side.
"No. I told you Nathan, I'm fine."
"We'll see about that. C'mere," he said, extending a hand and very relieved
when Peter took it, palm warm and dry against his own. "Let's check you out
upstairs."
Peter followed docilely enough as Nathan led him up, settling him onto his own
bed and then darting out for a moment to gather towels from the bathroom. When
he returned, Peter had stripped off his shirt, expression sardonic as he
indicated his bruise free torso.
"Okay, no busted ribs. I get it. What about that face of yours?"
Although, Nathan had to admit, the fact that Peter was making sardonic
expressions at all was a pretty good indication that nothing was fractured
there either. Nathan crouched in front of Peter on the floor, fingers careful
on Peter's face as he probed, not even really sure what he was looking for. He
looked closely at the pupils of Peter's eyes, trying to gauge the severity of
head trauma.
"Are they dilated?" Peter asked.
"What?" Nathan squinted, looking again. "No."
Peter snorted, snatching up Nathan's hand in his good one, passing it in front
of his own eyes as a test, following the line of movement smoothly. Right,
right. He'd seen all this in the movies before. He washed Peter's face off with
a warm, wet towel before applying antiseptic, making Peter hiss in pain.
Digging into the first aid kit, he snapped a cold pack, mixing the chemicals
together and tried to press it to Peter's swollen cheek.
Flinching away, Peter said, "You'd better save that for my hand."
"We're Petrellis, Peter. We can afford to buy another."
He pressed it again to Peter's cheek, waiting until Peter moved to hold it
before examining Peter's right hand.
And hell, Peter was right. It looked much, much worse than his cheek.
"So, talk to me," Nathan said. "What happened with Isaac?"
"What do you think happened? He was pissed about the pictures, starting yelling
at me about how he always knew I was trying to steal Simone from him, and
started throwing punches."
"I thought you two had a thing," Nathan noted, turning Peter's hand over to see
crescent shaped cuts in his palm. He really did need to teach Peter to throw a
punch. "You and Isaac, I mean."
"Well, apparently those broom closet blow jobs just don't mean as much to him
as they do to me," Peter said sarcastically, before sighing at Nathan's clumsy
ministrations.
"Clean it with antiseptic, and then check each bone with your fingers," Peter
instructed, putting down the cold pack for a moment to demonstrate the pinching
motion.
Nathan nodded. Cleaning carefully around the distended joint of his middle
finger, Nathan joked, "Guess you watched too much ER as a kid, eh?"
"Of course, best way to learn," Peter said, rolling his eyes. "I like talking
with Hesam sometimes."
Nathan frowned and pressed too hard.
"You mean flirting with."
Peter drew back immediately, pushing Nathan away and glaring harshly.
"No, I mean talking with. Christ, Nathan, not everything is about sex."
"It is with you," Nathan said, words a needle sharp reflex, a keen, almost
awful way to flip the switch with Peter. He regretted it as soon as he said it,
but it didn't stop him from hoping it worked.
But instead of turning coyly flirtatious, Peter stared at him for a long
moment, expression inscrutable before he appeared to make a choice. He cocked
his head, amused, hard light in his eyes.
"It is, isn't it?"
Peter slid from the bed, pushing Nathan lightly to topple him onto his ass,
legs still bent as his feet butted up against the wooden base board of the bed
frame. Straddling Nathan's hips, Peter pinned Nathan's chest against the floor
with his good hand hard on Nathan's sternum, knees digging in high under
Nathan's arms.
Jaw working, Peter smiled angrily.
"It's why they leave. Because, I can't help it, right? I'm just that much of a
slut."
"You took the words right out of my mouth, Pete," Nathan breathed. He commanded
his heart to slow, to stop racing at Peter's unexpected aggression. He hadn't
quite rehearsed those words, but as ever, Peter could read his intentions. His
plan had been subtle, perhaps underhanded as well, a more unassuming approach.
Comfort, brotherly affection, and leading questions.
Questions that got to the root of their problem, that damned anniversary, their
father and all the horrible memories Nathan couldn't quite shake. The good ones
that drove them apart because even now, even now – sheen of tears in Peter's
eyes, distant look that meant he was thinking about Dad – Nathan couldn't hate
the man.
He could be here, though, even if he hadn't meant it to happen this way.
"But you won't leave," Peter whispered, leaning down to brush his lips against
Nathan's, hand on Nathan's chest taking more weight, pressing down painfully.
The ridge of his erection prodded into Nathan's stomach, but Peter ignored it,
hips perfectly still, face flushed as he played another of his stupid games.
And then, abruptly, the pressure was gone. Peter pulled himself up to stand
again, mouth a flat line as he stared down at Nathan.
"They can always tell, you know," he started conversationally. "They can tell
there's something wrong with me. Something missing when I'm with them."
Shaking his head, Nathan braced a hand against the soft carpeting, getting his
feet under himself to stand.
"There's nothing wrong–"
Peter put out a hand, drawing him up the rest of the way. He stumbled slightly,
stepping on Peter's sneakers, not allowed to pull back when he righted himself
because Peter hands were firm on his waist, holding him still.
"There's something wrong, because when I'm with them," Peter said right into
Nathan's ear, breath hot, forehead tilted against Nathan's own, "I'm thinking
about you. I'm yours, Nathan."
Nathan smiled, bringing a hand up to rub the smooth skin of Peter's back,
turning to kiss the side of Peter's face.
"You are."
Mine and not his.
"Don't you want to fuck me, Nathan?" Peter asked like he was reading Nathan's
mind. Nathan could feel the corner of Peter's smile under his lips, the excited
thrum of Peter's heart vibrating into his own chest.
He had to catch his breath.
Licking his lips, Nathan twisted from the embrace, trying to look into Peter's
eyes, but Peter was already turned away, working one handed on his uniform
trousers and toeing off his shoes.
"You're sure, Pete? I thought you had a policy."
Peter slipped off his pants and his boxers in one go, leaning over to rifle
through a drawer; Nathan tugged at his tie, breathing suddenly difficult. He
was fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, very close to just deciding that he
had too many shirts to begin with and certainly wouldn't miss this one, when
Peter straightened, brow furrowed as he stared at an unlabeled bottle.
Glancing over his shoulder, Peter offered a flat look.
"He's dead, Nathan. I'm moving on. I'd rather remember you."
Nathan shivered slightly at the pronouncement – and not entirely from arousal.
He'd known, sometimes he thought he'd known before it started, from the looks
Dad cast Peter's way. But he'd never heard Peter talk about it so coldly.
He'd never heard Peter compare them, much as he sometimes did in his own head.
Peter turned, flipping the bottle over to Nathan. Some kind of lotion, Nathan
noted, looking down at it and trying not to feel a disappointed. He guessed
Peter hadn't planned for this.
Tossing the bottle past Peter to land on the bed, Nathan finally got the last
of his buttons undone and dropped his shirt to the floor. He shot an expectant
expression over toward Peter, toward the end of getting Peter to help with the
rest, but Peter merely sat on the bed, knee bouncing with nerves, eyes averted.
Shrugging slightly, and ignoring the pit in his stomach, Nathan unfastened his
belt, leaving his trousers a puddle on the floor. Sitting lightly next to Peter
on the bed, he didn't reach out to touch, instead asking, "How do you want to–"
"Just kiss me," Peter interrupted, turning quickly, hands on Nathan's
shoulders.
Nathan obliged, sliding his mouth softly over Peter's. He raised a hand,
brushing his thumb across Peter's jaw, eliciting a weak, needy sound from
Peter, who surged up against him, hands clutching as he drew Nathan into a
deeper kiss.
Groaning with satisfaction, Nathan let his hand drop to where Peter's hard cock
nudged against his thigh. Peter gasped at Nathan's firm strokes, breaking the
kiss to press his face into Nathan's neck, whimpering.
The room felt too quiet, silent but for their breathing. Nathan closed his
eyes, trying to shake the feeling of unreality.
"Lay back," he whispered, feeling Peter nod slightly against him, before the
heat of his body disappeared.
Opening his eyes, he saw Peter laid out in the middle of the bed, eyes staring
at the posters above him, bruised and raw right hand cradled against his firm
belly. Feeling his cock twitch at the sight, Nathan shifted, hooking his thumbs
into his boxers to pull them off before crawling to kneel over Peter.
Peter's gaze flicked down from the ceiling to Nathan's face, momentarily.
"You should start with your fingers," he advised.
Nathan smiled, kissing Peter again as he reached for the lotion bottle.
"I know."
Peter spread his legs wide to bare himself while Nathan slicked up his fingers.
Leaning over Peter for a kiss, Nathan worked his fingers into Peter's ass
slowly, feeling himself soften when Peter flinched at the intrusion.
"Pete, if you don't want to, we don't have to," he said quietly.
Heedless of his hurt hand, Peter grabbed Nathan by the back of his head,
pulling him into a fierce kiss.
"Shut up, Nathan."
Nodding jerkily after they broke apart, Nathan continued to stretch Peter open,
keeping a careful eye on Peter's expression. Grimacing at the unease he felt,
he again grasped Peter's cock, pumping in counterpoint to his fingers, tension
melting from his muscles as he made Peter throw his head back, mouth slack with
pleasure.
Disengaging his fingers from Peter's entrance, Nathan kept a steady pace on his
cock, pausing long enough to slick himself up and position himself before
thrusting in.
Breath stuttering from him, Nathan gasped out, "Christ."
He was tight. Nathan shuddered, hand flat on Peter's stomach as he tried to
control himself, eyes squeezing shut as he fought to breathe. Peter shifted
beneath him, opening his legs wider before wrapping one around Nathan, causing
a jolt of sensation to travel up Nathan's spine.
"Nathan," Peter groaned.
Steadying himself, hands braced on the bed, Nathan cracked his eyes open to see
Peter sweat and tremble beneath him, expression strained but there. Finally
looking back at Nathan and there with him in the moment.
Relieved, Nathan arched to kiss Peter forehead and then press his face to
Peter's cheek, just listening to him breathe.
"I was worried there," he managed.
Peter laughed roughly.
"Well, don't be. I need this. I need you, Nathan." Peter's breath hitched and
he arched his back, urging Nathan to move. "Nathan."
The break in his voice was more than enough motivation for Nathan. With a
grunt, he withdrew as far as he could from Peter, before pushing back in,
setting a driving pace that Peter matched, smirk on his lips as he wrapped a
hand around his own cock.
Eyes locked on Peter's, reveling in a feeling of connection with Peter he'd
never experienced before, Nathan felt his balls tighten, his release building.
Hips jerking, he came with a deep groan, smiling a little at the annoyed twitch
of Peter's eyebrows.
"Help me out here?" Peter groused, squirming with frustration, eyes bright and
teeth bared as he panted out harsh breaths.
Chuckling, Nathan slipped from Peter, moving to lay down beside him. He kissed
Peter's neck idly, hand joining Peter's, squeezing and slipping with the lotion
still on his hand and Peter's pre-cum both. Eyes fluttering closed, Peter
gasped and arched, sticky wetness covering both their hands.
Peter wiped his hand against the sheets, curling against Nathan with a sigh.
There was a still a fretful line between his eyebrows that Nathan pressed two
fingers against, trying to smooth it out. Peter shook him off, resting his chin
on Nathan's shoulder as they lay on their sides.
"How do you feel?" Nathan asked. He stroked one hand down Peter's back, tracing
his spine in beads of sweat, wondering what the answer he was looking for was.
Maybe complete, or perfect. Controlled, since that was what Peter always seemed
to be pushing for.
Peter pressed his sticky hand against Nathan's back, laughing lowly.
"Disgusting," he said in a bratty tone that made Nathan want to hit him. Nathan
felt eyelashes against his cheek, and Peter sounded almost sincere when he
said, "I'm sorry I ruined your plan."
Nathan stilled his hand on Peter's back.
"What plan?"
"The one to get me to go to the prom with Claire. Sorry for messing that up.
I'm suspended, and there's no way Noah will lift that to let me take his
daughter out."
"You knew?" Nathan asked, covering the disappointment he felt at Peter's words.
He hadn't even realized the full implications of the fight. He should have been
thrilled, since he was eliminating three romantic rivals at once, but there
wasn't much point to the prom if Peter couldn't attend.
"You weren't very subtle. Mmph," Peter mumbled, shifting positions to lie more
comfortably, "I didn't really get it, though. Why were you throwing me at her?"
"You're mine, remember?" Nathan lied. "I can do what I want with you."
"Whatever. You're a crappy dom. No way that's the real reason."
Nathan shivered. He'd never really thought of their relationship in that
context.
"Why did you turn her down?" he asked, trying to sound casual.
Peter pulled back from him, stretching and blinking sleepily at he looked up
into Nathan's face. He considered his words, before shrugging.
"I love her too much. She's my sister. I'm not going to do that to her."
His words left Nathan feeling very cold, even before Peter stood, mumbling
something about getting a shower. Despite himself, Nathan couldn't fight his
weariness, and he drifted to sleep, sick knot in his stomach bigger than ever.
***** Prom, And Other Disasters *****
Chapter Summary
     After Peter publishes a near disastrous article in the school
     newspaper about Nathan's illicit affairs on campus, Nathan plots
     revenge. But with both prom and the anniversary of their father's
     death coming up, the plot quickly becomes twisted for both of them,
     emotionally and psychologically. HIGH SCHOOL AU
Part 4 - Power (or a lack thereof)
Nathan pulled into the school parking lot on Friday morning sloppily, silence
of the car disquieting. Peter was at home, stewing – well, Nathan liked to
think he was, at least. He was probably still asleep, and would be until the
maid knocked on his door well into the afternoon. Then, hopefully, there would
be brooding. Guilt wracked, agonized brooding
The knot in his stomach had not been eased by sleep, nor by Peter's resumption
of his childish, annoying games. Flirting glances with Claire at dinner,
despite everything he'd said. An apologetic call to Mr. Raines that set
Nathan's teeth on edge. Pleading with Simone, honeyed words and affectionate
nicknames on his tongue.
Even the memory of Peter tight around him, body pliant and hot only exacerbated
Nathan's foul mood. A few times during the evening, Peter would glance up,
catch his eye, shared memory whispering between them, That's all you get of me,
Nathan.
If he didn't know better, he'd be convinced that Peter had done it on purpose,
giving Nathan exactly what he wanted before snatching it away. Another one of
their games, another taunt pushing Nathan to take things further. But it didn't
make sense. Peter didn't get it. Peter thought sex was everything.
He wouldn't think he was removing Claire to a pedestal, making her unreachable
and incorruptible. He would think he was affirming Nathan as the center of his
world, binding them tighter rather than pushing them apart. It was impossible
that he could know how jealous he was making Nathan.
But the alternative was worse. If Peter wasn't toying with Nathan, then he was
sincere, and perhaps not even aware of the charge he was leveling: You don't
love me. You're not my brother anymore.
That stung more than any of Peter's affairs ever could.
Unfocused, it was only by chance that he managed to avoid running over Hiro
Nakamura where he stood. Reflexes dulled by lack of sleep, Nathan hit the
brakes as hard as he could, cursing himself for ever befriending the kid and
thus heaping even more guilt on himself over killing him.
"What?" Claire blurted, half awake only moments before and now clutching her
safety belt with white knuckles, still staring at the place Hiro had just been
standing.
Hiro himself seemed unaffected, rushing over to Nathan's window to rap on it
hurriedly, voice muffled as he called, "Nee-san!"
Thumbing the window control, Nathan cocked an eyebrow at Hiro. He'd always had
a soft spot for the kid.
"President Nee-san! There is very very big emergency! You must come
immediately!"
"Slow down, Hiro. What kind of emergency?"
"It is prom. There is no more place! We must go now! There is meeting, in a
Senate."
Nathan shared a look with Claire, mouthing "I have no idea," to her and
wondering if Hiro had finally let the pressure of being psychotically energetic
and optimistic get to him. Smacking him slightly on the arm, she leaned over
Nathan, smiling kindly at Hiro.
"You mean the problem is with the prom? The place we're having prom?"
Hiro nodded furiously, reaching into the car to pull at Nathan's hand.
"There is meeting," he repeated.
"Let me open the door first," Nathan snapped, irritation growing alongside
anxiety. How could there be a meeting without him? Someone should – Heidi, she
was Class Secretary – should have sent him a message.
Getting out, Nathan slammed the door behind him, barely noticing Claire
scramble out as well before he pressed the keyless lock. Hiro tugged once more
on Nathan's arm, and then stopped, staring past him.
Nathan turned, unpleasantly surprised to see Tracy approaching, flanked by
Mohinder and Eden. He shot a nasty look over at Mohinder, wondering why his
former ally hadn't given him the heads up, but all Mohinder did was shrug
apologetically. It looked like the winds of change had come to the Senate
prematurely, and Nathan was not at all pleased.
He didn't do lame duck.
"I take it you are here to explain why my friend," he wrapped an arm around
Hiro, smiling a shark's mouth full of teeth at Tracy, "was so worked up?"
"I honestly wouldn't know anything about that. But I do know what's worrying
the senior class of Monroe High, Nathan. There isn't going to be any prom,"
Tracy pronounced.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Tracy folded her arms, thin lips betraying only the barest curve of a smile.
She nodded to Mohinder, urging him to explain. Nathan tilted his head, eyes
boring into hers.
"It seems that, during the altercation yesterday between your brother and
Isaac, Simone was injured. Not seriously, from what her father told us, but
enough that she will not be able to attend class or the prom."
"Or show her pretty face again for a long time," Tracy added.
"Her father was not pleased," Mohinder said, tone gentling as he got to the
crux of the matter. "He has decided to deny us use of the Deveaux building for
prom."
"And you didn't call me," Nathan said flatly.
"Given your brother's involvement in Simone's injuries, I didn't see how that
would help our cause any," Tracy said.
Eden shifted her stance, drawing his attention. Head cheerleader, she and Tracy
were not natural allies, but Nathan supposed he had himself to blame for this.
In the Senate, she was typically more of a peace broker than a partisan, and
seeing her at Tracy's side cut deeper than losing Mohinder.
"And since we already signed even more power away to you, we thought we'd ask
for that back," she said, wide eyes dark with annoyance.
"I've already drafted the proposal," Tracy said. "And reallocation of the
rental money toward an exploratory committee for a class gift from next year's
graduating seniors. You just need to sign them."
"You mean your class," Nathan said.
Tracy's composure broke as she allowed herself a wide smile.
"Yes. I do."
"That's your plan? You're trading away the prom of the entire senior class just
to plant a fucking tree in the quad?"
"Nathan, I don't plan. That's what you do – and why you lost. Plans fall apart.
I just take advantage of the situation I get."
Nathan took a step closer to her, hand clenched at his side as he gritted his
teeth. Slowly uncurling it, he brushed Tracy's hair off her neck, even angrier
as he felt how slow, how even her pulse was beneath his touch.
"If there's no prom, then you won't be queen."
"The prom was never the point," Tracy whispered, leaning into his touch. Beside
them both, he could hear Mohinder and Eden shifting uneasily, choosing a
tactical retreat now that things were getting ugly. "The campaign was the
point. I'll be President, and I never have to betray my sister."
"She doesn't get to be queen either, you realize. You still stole that from
her."
"No. You did."
"You really think I'm going to sign anything?" he growled.
"Of course not," she laughed.
"Then what the hell is this? Why did you bother?"
"Nathan... you underestimate just how fun it is watching you squirm."
Tracy pushed lightly at his chest, hair swishing as she turned to walk away,
hips swaying with her confident stride. Nathan swallowed, head throbbing, fist
clenched again with the desire to punch something.
***
Nathan seethed the entire drive home, taut line of stress throbbing across his
back. Claire remained pleasantly, blessedly silent in the passenger seat,
although Nathan imagined he could smell her self-righteous reproach seeping
into the air. He cracked a window, but only inhaled New York smog for his
efforts.
The day had, frankly, sucked. Tracy's grandstanding had actually been the
highlight, since then at least he'd had the pleasure of watching her walk away.
It was not that his fellow students were accusatory. There was no way they
could know the role he played in releasing the compromising photos of Peter and
Simone, sparking the fight between Peter and Isaac, setting off the entire
chain of events leading to the cancellation of prom. Not without Tracy
compromising herself, anyway, and she apparently lacked his hubris. She was too
smart to make his mistakes.
However, it was pretty unmistakable that the Student Senate existed for three
purposes only: padding the college applications of ambitious egotists, levying
parking fees, and planning prom.
The cold hush that silenced each classroom as he entered it had been tolerable,
if annoying. Nathan understood the politics of remorse: keep your head down,
weather the storm, and plot your comeback. The pity in his teachers' eyes was a
different matter altogether. It was enough to transform his shock and penitence
into barely leashed rage. He was fully aware that his political relevance was
circling Nader like levels. He didn't need Dr. Suresh's kindly guiding hand on
his elbow, soft advice in his ear as he tried to explain how little misfortunes
like this mattered "in the real world" and how important such "growth
experiences" were for the man he would one day be.
He'd made it through the rest of the day via a combination of finely honed
political skill – better known as hiding – and nuanced justifications of his
position – glaring at people until they went away.
Arriving home, Nathan didn't run up the stairs to his room. He had more dignity
than that. He did slam his door as hard as he could, rattling the hinges and
prompting an annoyed thump from the wall he shared with Peter. Still in bed, no
doubt. Probably revisiting his idea of a good afternoon with copies of the
blackmail pics.
Nathan swallowed thickly, staring at that wall. Peter's side was papered over
with posters and newspaper articles – headlines pasted over and under each
other in a form of ironic, free form poetry that Peter seemed to find endlessly
amusing. He was always tearing pages down, rearranging them, underlining and
highlighting phrases to make new, twisted stories.
Nathan's side was more sedate. There were a myriad of certificates and awards
on his wall, each more meaningless than the last. His Certificate of Merit from
the National Merit Scholarship Program. A blue ribbon from the State Mock Trial
Championship. The award for his debate team victory earlier that year, when he
humiliated the team from Kensei Preparatory.
A Little League Baseball trophy, from a game he remembered only in pieces. Dad
got mad enough at the umpire that he nearly got the entire family thrown from
the park, Nathan recalled. He closed his eyes, easily bringing to mind Ma's
stubborn expression, the mirror of it on Peter's small face. Back when Nathan
was the big brother, and Peter the tag along who always tried to catch up.
He reached out to pick up the trophy. It was cheap, really. Plastic and gold
paint, wood veneer on plywood for the base. He ran his thumb over the tiny
etching of his name on the plaque – just Petrelli because there wasn't enough
space for his first name.
"Nathan?" Claire called, making Nathan start, nearly dropping the trophy. He
turned, clutching it closer to his chest.
"What?"
She frowned, but kept her tone peaceable.
"Dinner. Dad and Angela are waiting."
"Fine. I'll be down."
"Do you have a problem with me?" Claire asked, crossing her arms. "Because I'm
not Tracy."
"Thanks for the clarification."
"Even though I think I agree with her. You pretty much suck."
Oh, this was exactly what he needed. He wondered why exactly he just hadn't
left her at school.
He narrowed his eyes at her, advising, "Get over it. You weren't supposed to go
to prom to begin with. You didn't lose anything."
"If you think that's what this is about, you really are slow. You screwed over
the school, Nathan. You screwed over Peter."
Nathan walked back to his shelves and set the trophy down with a clunk. He
stared hard at the wall, thinking of Peter on the other side.
"Is that so?"
"Yes, it is!" Claire stalked toward him, pulling on his arm and dropping her
voice to a furious whisper. "I know you were pretending it was about the
election, or Tracy, or whatever, but you used all of us! You were just trying
to get back at Peter for the Meredith story all along. And the funny thing is
that you deserve everything you've gotten, but we don't and he doesn't."
"That's certainly an interesting way of spinning it. Because, Claire, from
where I stand, you really aren't so innocent. I didn't send out the photos. And
I don't remember it being particularly difficult to convince you."
If Peter only knew, he thought spitefully.
Claire clenched her jaw, looking away as she admitted, "Maybe not. But it still
doesn't make you right."
Nathan rolled his head from side to side, working out the kinks. He fixed her
with an irritable look.
"What's your point?"
She pressed her lips together before saying, voice low, "Don't make deals you
don't intend to follow up on."
"Right. Got it."
Invoking the trade of the campaign videos for a date with Peter didn't
precisely strike Nathan as the smartest gambit around – but she was young.
Mistakes were to be expected.
Claire huffed out a breath, shaking her head as she left to roust Peter.
Downstairs, Nathan realized with a shiver that he recognized the scent on the
air. His mother's cooking. It seemed she was starting to make a tradition of
it, since she had done the same in the days surrounding the first anniversary
of Dad's death as well. She'd said something at the time about how it was a
private time for their family to mourn, giving the staff time off and taking
over a minimal number of the duties.
But for Nathan there was something profoundly disturbing and ominous about the
fact that she chose to commemorate her husband's death this way. He hoped she
wasn't making Dad's last meal for them.
He settled into his customary chair, next to the end where his mother sat,
across from where Peter would sit, with Bennet at the other end and Claire at
his side. The table was already set, fine bone china on burgundy linen, silver
sharp under the orange glow of the lit tapers. The flower centerpiece had been
replaced by the salad Nathan eyed warily.
Ma emerged from the kitchen. Bennet followed, carrying dishes.
"Nathan. How wonderful of you to join us."
"Sorry I kept you waiting, Ma."
She raised an eyebrow at him, and Nathan made a mental note to rehearse his
sincerity more often. He was saved from the need to give it another attempt,
however, by Peter and Claire entering. Claire walked over to Bennet, giving him
a quick kiss on the cheek before sitting, concerned eyes cast behind her to
where Peter lingered on the threshold, looking barely coherent. His eyes were
red, arms pale where he hugged himself anxiously, clothes wrinkled and looking
slept in. No, they had been slept in, Nathan was sure. They were the same
clothes Peter had worn the day before and slipped back into after they'd had
sex.
The bruise on his face looked particularly bad. Despite his ministrations the
day before, it was puffy and deeply purple, although not quite nasty enough to
swell Peter's eye shut. Ma inhaled sharply at the sight, rising to coo at him.
Nathan clenched his hands into fists, pressing them against his knees under the
table as he stared at Peter and his mother, guilt and jealousy roiling in his
stomach.
Ma led Peter back to the table, moving his chair closer to her own and keeping
their hands linked even as they sat. Peter seemed indifferent to the attention,
as easy to position as a doll.
"Dad?" Claire started plaintively. "Are you really going to suspend Peter? He
didn't do anything wrong."
"He was fighting, Claire-bear. The rules are clear enough." He said, before
directing his attention toward Peter, "I'm sorry, Peter."
If it had been Dad, Peter would have retorted something sarcastic about the
irony of a mobster lecturing about rules and fairness. Even with Bennet, under
normal circumstances, Peter would not let such casual hypocrisy go without
comment. Today he seemed unaware of the attention, slumped in his chair, free
hand toying with the edge of his knife.
"Noah, I think it is clear that he has been punished enough," Ma said.
"We've talked about this, Angela."
"And we will talk about it again," Ma rebuked, eyes hard, hand still entwined
with Peter's. "Later."
Bennet nodded stiffly, and Nathan wondered how much he knew about the
significance of this meal. He was a Company man, Ma's right hand for years
before her husband's untimely death, involved in more than a few of the more
unsavory aspects of the family business. He probably knew more about Dad's
death than Nathan did himself, and yet he seemed almost oblivious to the effect
it had on the family, the still healing fractures that were visible in each of
them.
Maybe that's why he wanted to stick by the rules and leave Peter alone in the
house where his father had died, the house where his father had hurt him, at
the worst possible time of year. As if hearing the thought, Peter slumped
further into his seat. He brought his free hand up to rub at his weary eyes,
only to flinch as he remembered the still vivid bruising around his cheek.
Claire winced, eyes wide and round as she watched him.
Or, maybe he just wants to keep Peter from Claire, Nathan thought. He could
sympathize with that impulse.
Nathan stabbed at a tomato, anxiety and paranoia eating at him. He'd rather be
anywhere but here.
"Nathan, slow down. It's a fork, not a shovel," his mother chided abruptly.
Nathan sat up straighter under her gaze, forcing an obedient nod.
"And Peter," she sighed, patting his hand before freeing it, "you should eat
something. You're too thin."
Claire caught Nathan's eye, offering a commiserating look. He tried not to
remember how often they had complained about his mother's unfairness – easy to
do when he reminded himself that she still had Bennet's favor, and his father
was dead.
"I had quite an interesting conversation with Millie today," Ma began. "She
showed me the most interesting website, with all of these short videos. Did you
know you can put them on the internet yourself?"
Nathan rolled his eyes.
"Yes, Ma. I have been on the internet before."
"Well, I was quite impressed. Particularly when she showed me a video of you,
Nathan."
Nathan straightened, eyes going to hers. He fought an insane moment of panic.
He hadn't filmed anything incriminating. Peter wouldn't have, couldn't have.
Nonetheless, the aftertaste of the salad's vinaigrette turned disturbingly
sour-sweet in his mouth, and he set down his fork, trying to remain calm.
"She did?" he asked after a long pause, realizing she expected him to
participate.
"Yes. I am afraid I didn't quite see the point of the video. Why were you
campaigning for this Tracy Strauss?"
"She's a friend, Ma."
"Friends don't make you put their future ahead of yours, Nathan. This Tracy has
cost you a lot."
Exhaling carefully, Nathan allowed his posture to relax slightly. The prom. She
was just harping on after the prom.
"It's just a dance."
"It's an opportunity," Bennet inserted, suddenly reminded Nathan of how public
the airing of these problems actually was. Nathan surveyed the table, taking in
Claire's ill-concealed plotting, Peter's bleary unease, and Bennet's mild
paternalism. He always did hate that look on Bennet's face – like he was happy
to extend a fatherly helping hand to his step-children, like he was something
more than a replacement. Like he cared more than Dad had, never mind that
Nathan knew just how true that was.
"To what?" Nathan laughed, nagging feeling of claustrophobia developing between
the twinned piercing looks of Bennet and his mother. "Be even more of a
laughing stock?"
"To take your rightful role in the family, Nathan. You know that this mess can
easily be fixed."
"You'd call Mr. Deveaux for me?"
"I already did," Bennet said. "He's a lost cause. But there is still..."
Linderman.
"No," Nathan said roughly.
Ma tilted he head, small smile on her lips. An unkind reminder that she was
conceding momentarily, but not forever.
"So there's still no prom?" Claire asked.
"Apparently not, dear."
Claire sighed, putting on one of the better kicked puppy looks he'd seen from
anyone other than Peter, telegraphing to Nathan just what her next move was.
Her earlier words became clear to Nathan – she thought she was going to get him
into trouble for his deal with Bennet, the deal he'd broken by promising Peter
to her.
It was almost amusing, just how deeply she had miscalculated the effect of that
deal.
"Claire-bear," Bennet warned. "This has nothing to do with you."
"I know, Dad. I just thought... well, Nathan and I made a deal."
"Did you?" Bennet said, tone chilly. Light glinted off his glasses as he turned
again to look at Nathan, who shrugged lightly back at him. He was perfectly
willing to let this play out to the end.
"He said he'd get Peter to take me to the prom."
Even at the sound of his own name, Peter failed to react. Nathan felt a flicker
of worry.
"That doesn't sound like such a bad idea, dear," Ma said, fingers tracing the
stem of his wineglass, even as her calculating gaze looked for any signs of
Nathan's motives. She looked hopeful. She sounded genuine.
"It does to me," Bennet returned.
"Why?" Nathan asked blandly. "Is it because of our deal? You let me stay close
to Peter to keep them apart?"
There was a clatter as Ma knocked over her wineglass. Nathan suppressed a
vicious smile.
"Noah. We need to talk. Now," Ma snapped, standing.
Bennet looked unsettled at her reaction, but nonetheless folded his napkin next
to his plate. Ma stood by the door, agitation, anger and, yes, shame visible on
her face as she beckoned Bennet to follow her out. So much for the family
secret, Nathan thought, surprised at the satisfaction he felt.
"Claire, keep an eye on them," Ma tossed over her shoulder before seizing
Bennet's arm in a claw like grip, pulling him along, out of earshot.
Claire blinked at the now hushed room.
"Does anyone know what just happened?"
"Your father," Nathan pronounced, standing to serve the main course to her and
Peter in turn, "is in a lot of trouble."
Frowning at him, Claire picked at her food, but didn't try to follow up on that
question. Her instincts were improving. She could definitely taste the danger
in the air, the price of the answer that Bennet was now getting. Nathan
wondered idly just how interested Bennet would be in playing father to him now.
The three of them – well, two – ate in silence for a long period, Nathan with
no small amount of dark relish. Eventually, the ungainly wood on wood squeak of
a chair being pushed back cut through the heavy quiet. Both Claire and Nathan
looked up at Peter in concern. He looked more coherent, more together than he
had before, but still exhausted and hurt.
"I think I'm going to go back to bed," Peter said. "Try not to sell me while
I'm gone."
Claire winced at the words, hollow and toothless as Peter's tone was. Despite
himself, Nathan felt a pang of guilt.
He stood to go after Peter, catching him at the threshold. Hand light on
Peter's bruised face, he spoke urgently, "I shouldn't have done that to you,
Pete."
"Done what, Nathan? You shouldn't have traded me like I was your dog? You
shouldn't have outed us?" Peter replied, eyes flashing as his voice dropped to
a whisper, "Or you shouldn't have fucked me?"
"Pete..."
Peter laughed sharply, running a hand over his face, voice still pitched too
low for Claire to hear, "Nah, never mind the last. I can't blame you. Everyone
screws me eventually."
***
His mother was waiting for him in the kitchen the next morning. Stumbling, half
way through a yawn, Nathan was tugging his tie into place when he saw her, prim
and austere in a dark suit, red nails tapping against the white tile of the
kitchen island. There was no food on the counter – a steaming cup of coffee,
flowers, and three familiar, pastel brochures.
"You're staying home today, Nathan. We need to have a discussion. Noah will be
taking Claire to school."
"You couldn't have told me before I set my alarm?" Nathan groused, eyes on the
brochures.
"I could have," his mother acknowledged. "But then you would have been
comfortable."
Nathan crossed his arms, ironic look on his face as he thought back to the
first time around. It had not been so chill, so calm. He remembered the dim
light of the Tiffany lamp on Dad's desk, wondering if Ma was going to knock it
over in her hysterics, wondering if she was going to hit him.
This time that morbid, shattering intensity was replaced by thin morning light
and the irritating tap of her fingers.
"So it is a punishment," he said. Last time she said it was treatment. I still
love you. I just want you to be well again.
His mother raised an eyebrow.
"That should hardly be a surprise."
"Have you ever considered," Nathan said, emotion welling in his voice, "that I
might be the victim? That maybe Peter approached me?"
"No, I haven't."
Of course not. Why consider the truth?
Ma stood, smoothing her skirt as she walked toward him. She dusted lint from
his jacket – not that it mattered, not that he was going out anywhere today –
and lifted her chin as she looked into his eyes, hands firm on his shoulders.
"You're not the victim type, Nathan. Oh, I know Peter isn't innocent in this,
but he's not the one who hurt you. You did it entirely to yourself."
Something inside Nathan trembled. She'd never admitted that before, that he'd
been hurt. He cast his mind back, thinking of scraped knees and belt marks,
trying to remember any kind, healing touches from her.
"You wanted to justify it."
"Justify what?" he whispered, staring over her head, not sure he wanted to hear
what she had to say.
Ma reached up, fingers delicate as they moved his gel stiffened hair back from
his forehead, breaking the product's hold with a crack.
"Your father, dear. You still love him. You still want to believe that he loved
you."
Nathan flinched, stumbling back from her. His jawed worked, but he couldn't
prevent the tears that were coming to his eyes.
"He's our father, of course he did."
"Nathan," his mother chided. "Things are never that simple. If Peter loves you,
then maybe he loved Arthur, and maybe Arthur loved him back, is that it? I
don't know why you've never learned the lesson I've tried to teach you about
love. It is a terrible thing, and it justifies nothing."
"He came to me first," Nathan said, grasping for straws, not even sure what in
her statements he was fighting anymore.
"I know, dear," Ma said. When she came close again, he didn't fight her
embrace.
"You're not going to–" Nathan cut himself off, burying his face into her hair,
too afraid to say it. It was bad enough being betrayed by one parent. He still
couldn't admit the possibility of being betrayed by both out loud.
"Kill you?" his mother asked gently. "Nathan, dear, I never would."
She pulled back to place a kiss on his cheek.
"I killed Arthur to protect both of you."
Nathan nodded blindly, numb to the comfort she thought she was providing.
"Now," she said, leading him by the hand to sit. "We're going to talk about how
to fix this."
Talking over hospitals, doctors, and possibly covers stories was strangely
calming for Nathan. It let him breathe back in cynical breaths, orient himself
and rebuild his defenses. By the end of Ma's explanation for the first clinic –
where he'd be again subjected to snide, bored comments about depressed rich
boys – he almost felt secure again.
Some time later, he heard a creak on the stairs and an audibly jaw-cracking
yawn. Peter. His bid to become nocturnal had apparently backfired.
Nathan tensed and stood, ready to retreat back to his room rather than face a
repeat of the talk in his brother's presence. Wordlessly, his mother caught him
by the arm – not to keep him there, just to give a firm squeeze, gaze almost
apologetic before she nodded and allowed him to flee. She gave him a brief,
wavering smile that raised a lump in his throat.
She almost looked like she loved him.
Slipping out the back, he took the stairs two at a time. Nathan could hear the
soft murmurs of his mother greeting his brother. For once he didn't feel any
jealousy stir at their imagined interaction. There was a tight, wistful sadness
that gripped his heart, its hold slipping as he measured his distance and
approached his door.
Ma was right. They needed to fix things.
His eyes fell on his desk and the wrinkled conferment of executive power from
Tracy and the Senate earlier in the week. More worthless than Nathan's
machinations, their "viral" videos, or the weeks wasted planning the prom.
Or not... Nathan thought, frowning. He drew his cell phone from his pocket, a
new plan percolating in his mind – a clean plan, a swift sword to cut through
all the webs he had created in the past weeks.
***
Nathan rolled the pen between his fingers. It was finely made, expensive,
gilded highlights bright under the lights of the office. Nathan was all too
aware of its weight as he twirled it around, pressing the nib to the forms on
the desk to sign.
He tried to ignore Linderman's kind, confused eyes studying him as he looped
flourishing 'L's into his name.
Pushing the paper across the desk, he cocked an eyebrow at his father's closest
friend.
"Yes?"
"Nothing, my boy."
"You want to know why I'm here," Nathan asserted. "I'm fulfilling my campaign
promise."
Linderman picked up the cashier's check, waving it to dry to ink. Ten grand for
one night, all the money Deveaux had refunded.
"A very noble ambition, and a quality I have always admired in your family,
Nathan. You always keep your promises. But that is not what I am surprised
about."
Nathan shifted in his seat. He was committed to this, convinced it was the
right course to follow. He finally felt that he'd achieved clarity in his goals
– to be the President he was elected to be, to be the brother he always wanted
to be. But that still didn't mean he wanted to spend more time around Linderman
than he needed to.
"I'm surprised Angela didn't tell me you were coming," Linderman stated cagily,
leaning back in his leather chair to watch Nathan piece together the implicit
question. Why are you acting without her knowledge? Are you plotting against
us? Are you trying to topple her from power?
Nathan shrugged.
"It's just high school. Ma has more important things to deal with."
"Certainly she does. But you have never been, shall we say, enamored with the
nature of my business or hers. I recall you saying something about me
'destroying' your family," Linderman said, smiling. "So you can see how I might
be surprised to see you taking the initiative and taking over your father's
relationship with my business."
"I can."
"And?"
Nathan chuckled and offered a shark's smile.
"And now you expect me to say that I'm not my father and that this is a one
time deal. It probably isn't. I know better than that."
"But you want to fulfill your obligations?"
"Yes," Nathan said, squaring his shoulders. It felt like a stupid, petty reason
in the face of Linderman's condescension. Linderman clearly thought he was
getting in over his head.
"Look, I know what you are. I know, and you're no worse than the rest of my
family."
"How kind of you to say that. What is the phrase? Ah, damning with faint
praise."
Nathan glared at him.
"You don't know a damned thing about us."
"So I am learning," Linderman said, smile touching his lips.
"You're no worse than Dad," Nathan repeated as he stood to leave, "and you're
no worse than me."
***** Prom, And Other Disasters *****
Chapter Summary
     After Peter publishes a near disastrous article in the school
     newspaper about Nathan's illicit affairs on campus, Nathan plots
     revenge. But with both prom and the anniversary of their father's
     death coming up, the plot quickly becomes twisted for both of them,
     emotionally and psychologically. HIGH SCHOOL AU
Part 5 – The Prom
The Corinthian Hotel on Long Island was the lesser of the twin hotels. It
lacked the decadent, tasteless opulence of its casino sister in Vegas – much to
Nathan's relief and the Student Senate's chagrin. With less than a week to plan
and seriously depleted funds, there was no way to fly the senior class out to
Vegas for prom. No matter how many times Ando suggested it.
Tracy took Nathan's comeback with remarkably good grace, merely shrugging and
confirming the color of her corsage. That she was immediately bombarded with
calls from Linderman's social event planner after the Senate meeting and kept
being referred to as Nathan's assistant, on the other hand, she took with less
grace. On Friday, she was still leveling steely glares at Nathan every time
they brushed past each other in the hall.
She looked coldly beautiful on the hastily erected stage in the Corinthian's
main ballroom, doing one last sound check before the other students started
arriving. Her pale blue dress shimmered over her skin, each tiny movement
provoking an iridescent fall of light that made her look as illusory as an ice
carving.
There were few other students in the hall yet – only Mohinder and Eden, since
the other Student Senate officers wanted to arrive in style with their dates.
The chaperoning parents and teachers patrolled the edges, chatting with the
Corinthian staff. Nathan could hear murmured statements now and again of
admiration, that these kids had managed to pull their dance back from the maw
of near-disaster.
Bennet stood next to where Mr. Thompson and Dr. Suresh sat by the door, ready
to tear tickets. His gaze never wavered from Nathan, hidden as it was beneath
the brilliant sheen of reflected dance lights.
Nathan returned his attention uneasily. Bennet knew. Ma had taken him aside and
explained everything. Probably excluding the fact that she had murdered her
previous husband, but Nathan honestly wouldn't put it past her.
It had been easy this week to drown himself in the details of retrofitting the
prom plans into the new setting. It was a good distraction from the unsettled
feeling he had every time he glanced at Bennet or Claire. He didn't know what
to expect from them – Peter and Ma, even with the recriminations and guilt and
pain, he knew what he was getting. But the Bennets... Nathan didn't even know
why they were still around. He kept expecting to wake up and find a note taped
to the coffee machine, the house cleared entirely of their belongings, Claire
vanished from the school register like she'd never been enrolled and their
families had never joined.
Why would Bennet stay, knowing what the Petrellis really were?
Nathan forced himself to look away, marching over to the catering table with
the intention of yelling at someone for a faux pas he would invent on the spot.
He stopped short, however, taking in Mohinder and the fruit he was adding to
the punch bowl. It looked suspiciously like he was performing science again,
Nathan noted with an almost audible growl of annoyance.
"I thought you said experimenting on people was wrong, Suresh?"
Mohinder jumped slightly, and then offered Nathan a placating smile.
"I did and it is. This is not part of an experiment."
Eden, Mohinder's date and co-conspirator in a short purple dress that people
not Nathan might call "kicky" leaned across the fondue pot to offer Nathan a
vodka soaked cherry.
"Just regular spiking," she said. "We swear."
"You couldn't wait? Your father is looking right at us now!" Nathan seethed.
A slow, obnoxious and very teenage smile spread across Mohinder's face. He
waved to his father who returned the gesture with a bemused, preoccupied air.
"I know."
Fathers and sons.
Aggravated, but well aware that the damage was done, Nathan left with a glare
and a warning, "Just don't let Hiro drink any of that, okay?"
The last thing the prom needed was a drunk hyperactive exchange student who
insisted on calling Nathan "older sister" in Japanese even when he was
perfectly sober.
A few more last minutes checks: ducking backstage to make sure Tracy was
counting the prom king and queen ballots correctly, cajoling Mr. Thompson into
calling the front desk and ensuring the post-prom activity rooms were set up,
giving Mohinder and Eden the hairy eyeball just one last time to make sure they
didn't get any more creative with the catering table.
And then, the first arrivals. The lights dimmed, the DJ spun up the first disc,
and Bennet tore the first ticket.
Fighting the itch that made Nathan want to greet each student personally, make
it known that he salvaged their prom from the brink of disaster, he instead
grabbed a glass of the suspect punch and retreated to the balcony to watch each
new arrival.
Cheerleaders Monica and Elle, arms slung around each other's waists, Elle's
gold foil crinkling with each step and Monica's short red cocktail dress
hugging her figure almost as closely as her girlfriend was; Matt and Audrey,
his broad smile almost covering for the uncomfortable glower she shot the room
as she adjusted her pink taffeta; Heidi, on her own but beautiful in a soft
gray dress, artfully crumpled; Maya in a gorgeous deep teal bandage dress, on
the arm of her twin brother, raising Nathan's eyebrow but probably no one
else's.
A sprinkling of others came, unfamiliar faces since they had never shared Dr.
Suresh's Special Ed class with Nathan, nor had he made it a point to get to
know them beyond what it took to win their votes.
The dance was warming up when Hiro, Ando, and Daphne entered – late and looking
a little flushed, like always. Daphne had a hand from each of her boys gripped
in hers and she eagerly dragged them forward, nearly by-passing the ticket
takers entirely. Nathan gave them only the most cursory of glances, almost let
himself be amused by the combination of her silk, humming bird embroidered
dress and her thick heeled Chucks peeking out from underneath, before his
attention snapped back to the door.
Waiting.
He leaned his elbows against the bannister, bringing his steepled hands to his
face to scowl over as he watched the door.
"You bitch!"
Nathan's eyes darted to the side, finding the small clearing in the dance floor
where two figures circled each other. He squinted, trying to make out who they
were amidst the smoke and pulsating lights. He saw dark hair and blond, heart
beginning to race as the possible meanings registered.
"Candice! Meredith!" Bennet barked, charging onto the dance floor before it
could get interesting. Unconsciously, Nathan deflated at the names. "Break it
up."
The girls turned, making Nathan's assumptions – his irrational hope – even more
foolish. Despite some resemblance, Meredith could never be mistaken for Claire
and Candice most definitely couldn't pass for Peter.
And he wouldn't ever call her a bitch, Nathan reminded himself bitterly.
Attention wandering, Nathan didn't note much more about the conflict between
Candice and Meredith. Same dress, he guessed, although it was hard to tell from
his vantage spot. Not precisely a surprise. Candice never had been good at
anything but imitation.
The next entrance received much fanfare: Niki and DL. A ripple of murmurs and
smiles coursed through the room, flash of the lights almost overwhelmed
momentarily by the flashes of cameras. Tracy sauntered lightly from the stage,
dress shimmering hauntingly with her every moment as she approached. Despite
the glitz and good cheer of his fellow students, Nathan's breath caught in his
throat as he watched her stalk forward. He could see the tension in her gait.
She'd won, after a fashion, but could she stand to see her sister crowned
queen?
"Oh, my God, Niki! You look gorgeous!" Tracy squealed, hugging her twin tight.
Apparently so. Nathan's lips twisted into a disappointed moue as he watched the
girls twirl, the train of Niki's red dress flaring out widely.
"Is anything interesting going to happen?" Nathan asked aloud in frustration.
"You could make it happen."
Nathan jumped and then tensed, glaring over at Peter and daring him to laugh.
Instead, he offered a wan smile, face still pale and strained. The bruise had
faded to a sickly yellow, covered up by Claire's diligent make up. He looked
borderline presentable in his tuxedo.
"When did you get here?"
"Just now. I sneaked in the back. Well, front. You get what I mean," Peter said
with a jerk of his head to the side, indicating the elevator that connected to
the rest of the hotel. He must have taken one up near the front desk, crossed a
floor above them, and entered behind Nathan.
One of many tricks made possible by the Petrelli-Linderman partnership.
"Remember when we used to play hide and seek here?" Peter continued, following
the same line of thought Nathan had.
"Yeah."
"Dad always got so mad."
"Peter, could we not?" Nathan said through gritted teeth, not entirely sure why
he was rebelling at Peter's reminiscence. This was what he'd waited for,
putting up with weeks of Peter's messed up behavior. It was why he'd wanted to
fix the prom so badly.
He knew they needed to talk it out.
Peter shrugged easily, mimicking Nathan's position to lean on the bannister.
They watched the students below them sway to Imogen Heap. Niki and DL were at
the center of the dance floor, moving with the grace of a king and queen
without ever being crowned. Eden had moved in on the tall, handsome exchange
student from Haiti whose name Nathan had never gotten. And there, on the edge,
Claire stood next to Matt, watching Mohinder gamely try to keep up with
Audrey's box step.
Covering the tense feeling in his stomach at the sight of his step-sister,
Nathan nudged Peter.
"Scoop for you," he said, indicating the Mohinder-Audrey-Matt triangle. Peter
snorted.
"You seriously don't even read my paper, do you?" Nathan turned his head to
meet Peter's eyes, not quite willing to admit how far behind he was on gossip.
"Weeks ago, Nathan. Weeks."
"So," Peter started, fingers lifting from the bannister to point down to a
certain blond prowling toward the stage once more, "how did you get Tracy to
work so hard on your plan?"
"I told her she could take credit for saving prom."
"Crafty."
"I thought so."
"You know the student body already knows that you were the only one with the
power to pay Linderman for the rental, right?"
"Funny how that works," Nathan said with satisfaction.
Peter turned, leaning back against the railing, hands braced at his sides as he
said quietly, "You always were excellent at revenge schemes."
"Cut to the chase, Pete."
"You leaked the photos, didn't you?"
Nathan rolled his eyes, fighting the impulse to implicate Claire. It wouldn't
do any good now. "We've been over this. You believed me before."
"I did, but it still didn't quite add up. You still owed me one for the
Meredith article, and there's no way I'm going to believe your Senate minutes
stunt was your revenge. You aren't that lame, Nathan."
Actually, he totally was. The minutes had been his revenge, the plan that
developed afterward had been something else altogether. As much as breaking up
Peter, Simone, and Isaac had, in the back of his mind, seemed like just dessert
for Peter airing Nathan's own sex scandals, that wasn't really how he'd
originally conceived of it.
"To what end, Pete? That whole fiasco nearly cost us prom," Nathan reminded him
calmly.
"You know to what end," Peter said, eyes accusing. He looked furtively to the
side, and despite himself, Nathan felt the tight coil compressing his heart
release a little. Peter looked more together, more aware than he had in weeks.
"There's no way we would have fucked if you hadn't broken me and Simone and
Isaac up."
"We would have eventually."
"No. We wouldn't. I was being stupid and fucked up..."
"Exactly my point. You're always stupid and fucked up," Nathan said, trying to
play it off like a joke. Peter merely glared in response.
They settled back into silence, Nathan eying his brother critically.
"It's good to see you..."
"Functional?"
"I wouldn't go that far," Nathan said. Peter was still too pale, still too
tired.
"Getting out of the house helped," Peter said, edge of resentment in his voice,
not quite blaming Nathan for getting him stuck there. "I'm glad I got to come,
to be with you before we..."
Nathan let him trail off, happy not to hear a euphemism. The memory of therapy
the first time, the loneliness of it, beyond even being separated from Peter
was bad enough that he appreciated the comfortable cowardice eliding the words
themselves.
"You know, I just realized we don't have a lot more time," Peter continued, his
tone almost sounding wistful, if Nathan didn't know better. "After we go...
after this summer, we're going to different colleges."
He could almost admire the backhanded cruelty of Peter's statement – sweetly
reminding him of how much he loved Nathan, reminding Nathan how little time
they had, reminding Nathan it was all his fault for outing them to Bennet and
Ma.
Jaw clenched, he forced his gaze back to the dance floor where Maya was picking
her way over to the catering table. She poured herself a large glass of punch
before diligently scooping out the fruit and putting it in a separate cup to
eat from.
"That's why you did it, isn't it?" Peter asked.
"Did what, Pete?"
"It's why prom was important," Peter insisted. "Why you changed the date."
Nathan froze.
"You noticed that?"
Peter's hand inched slowly across the bannister, his fingers lightly touching
the back of Nathan's hand. Nathan stared straight ahead, forcing himself to
wonder if anyone was going to warn Maya about the fruit.
"You need to read my paper," Peter said, some of the anger disappearing from
his voice, replaced by ironic amusement. "I've covered the prom for three
years. I know the day it's supposed to be on. You moved it to be on the
anniversary."
Narrowing his eyes, Nathan glared down at Mohinder who had rejoined Eden at a
small table. He could swear he saw a notepad in Mohinder's hand, recording what
Eden said as she watched Maya sway and giggle.
"Nathan."
He jerked his hand away from Pete's light, scalding touch, turning to put his
back to the dance floor. Nathan glowered at Peter.
"I wasn't thinking, Pete. I didn't even realize you were going to be gone in
fall. You think I planned on getting caught?" he said, noticing the strange,
betraying nod Peter gave at the words. Great, he really had thought it had been
all part of Nathan's grand plan. He'd probably even thought that Nathan was
dumb enough to sacrifice himself as part of a revenge plot of Peter.
Tone softening, Nathan added, "I thought we'd have all summer together."
"But you did move prom, didn't you?"
"Shouldn't you go dance with your date?"
Peter shrugged lightly. "Mom said she only made me bring her to punish you."
"I knew it," Nathan grumbled.
"She also told me I should appreciate what you did here. That's why she
convinced Noah to revoke my suspension. She wanted us to be together tonight."
"To what, celebrate?"
"This was your idea," Peter said. He placed a hand on Nathan's shoulder,
feeling the tension. "Why are you fighting it?"
"Ma told me she killed him, you know. Because of what he did to us. To you."
Peter's brow furrowed, denial momentarily on his lips.
"She wouldn't..."
Nathan cocked an eyebrow at him and Peter sighed.
"Okay, but why tell you?"
"To tell me I'm next," Nathan lied. It would be easier, he decided suddenly.
Peter could hate Ma and take his side. Maybe Nathan would transfer to Columbia,
instead of going to the Academy in Annapolis...
Peter's lips compressed into a fine line, his ridiculous bangs falling into his
eyes as he glared at Nathan.
"You're not next."
"Why not?" Nathan immediately hated the vulnerable note in his voice. He
straightened his shoulders, looking over Peter's shoulder to make his gaze
cool, his voice steady and casual when he continued, "I did the same thing."
You didn't! declared the Peter in Nathan's head, the one whose voice he
desperately wanted to hear. Grinding his teeth, Nathan waited. And waited.
And looked back to Peter, finding his face ashen while he studied his shoes.
Nathan's heart lurched.
"Pete..."
"You did," Peter said without looking up. Nathan wanted to shake him.
"You came to me."
"I did, I know. I always do. But I don't always," Peter licked his lips,
looking up at Nathan pleadingly, "I don't always know what's good for me.
That's what you always say."
"It's why I'm here," Nathan replied automatically, stepping forward to wrap his
arms around his brother. Peter needed to be controlled, he needed to be
protected, and Nathan was the one to do it.
Pressing his face to Nathan's neck, Peter murmured, "I don't regret it."
He didn't regret the sex. He didn't regret their entire relationship or the
manipulations to get there – manipulations from each of them that Nathan
finally saw. And God, Pete, how fucked up was it that he would turn on a dime
from saying Nathan hurt him as badly as their father did to comforting Nathan,
seducing him all over again?
Muscles quivering with a weak, sick feeling, Nathan disentangled himself from
Peter, offering an awkward pat to Peter's shoulder. He needed to regroup if he
was going to do this right.
"How about we find our dates?" Nathan asked, forcing a smile as he guided Peter
down the stairs, hand light on the small of his back.
He could only breath easy again once he handed Peter off to Claire, noticing
for the first time how the red of his boutonniere matched her dress. How it
matched his lips.
Claire frowned at him when he pushed Peter to her side, muttering, "Thanks."
And really, he wasn't in it to see their dating behavior, so he retreated as
quickly as he could to find Tracy. Maybe to drag her upstairs, find an
efficient way to simultaneously scrub away visions of Peter and Claire and the
images of himself and Peter that he suddenly, frighteningly, didn't want to
think about. He found her by the punch, scrutinizing her newly poured glass.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said, indicating the punch she now held
under her nose to sniff.
"Rohypnol is odorless anyway," she said, lowering the glass with a shrug.
"I don't think that's what they did to it."
"Whatever it is, I saw Maya head off into the bathroom looking green not too
long ago, her brother trailing after."
"To hold her hair back?"
Tracy took a tentative sip and, upon contemplating the taste, took a second,
deeper swig.
"Let's hope," she replied, eyebrow arched. "Those two have always pinged my
radar."
"Really?" Nathan said, turning to crane his head toward the closed doors of the
restroom. They hadn't pinged anything for him in all the time he and Peter had
shared Seminary classes with them before school, but if they were...
If they are, thenwhat? he asked himself snidely. We'll form a club? I'll be
able to hit them up for advice?
Tracy set her punch back down on the table, taking Nathan by the hand.
"You owe me a dance," she said, leading him to the dance floor. It was a
relatively slow Muse song, to Nathan's relief. Nothing looked more ridiculous
than prep school students in formal wear moshing.
They swayed together in silence a few moments, Nathan keeping his hands in more
gentlemanly areas than he was accustomed to, before it occurred to him both
that he did need advice and that he had someone who might actually be able to
offer it right before him. As long as he, you know, didn't actually get
specific enough to get arrested or allow her to completely destroy him
politically.
"How do you break up with someone you love?" he asked, caution in his wording
doing little to prevent the shocked look on her face.
"If this is your way of telling me you love me... it sucks."
"Why would I love you? You humiliated me!"
Tracy's smile turned coy as her hand slid down his back.
"Some guys like that kind of thing."
"Not me," Nathan said quickly. "And you're not the one I'm breaking up with,
even if that suddenly sounds like a very good idea."
She cocked her head. "Why would you break up with someone you love?"
Whatever answer he could have formulated was cut off by a commotion by the
door. Nathan spun Tracy around for a better look, getting the sharp toe of her
high Bottega Veneta pump in his shin for his trouble. Even the DJ lowered the
volume of the music as he stood to crane his neck, peering over the
manufactured-fog filled hall to the door.
The murmuring did not clear, but only intensified as a tall female figure broke
away from the door, stepping into the strange light of the dance floor.
Simone.
"What the hell is she doing here?"
"No idea," he replied flatly.
Simone's make up job was even more masterful than Peter's. Even knowing what to
look for, Nathan saw no trace of bruising along her jaw or eye, and she had
either somehow healed her broken nose completely in the past week, or found a
concealer that perfectly blended with the tape over it. Her hair was done up
stylishly in a French twist, tendrils hanging down to her bare shoulders above
the glittering violet bodice of her silk dress. The floor length gown swayed as
she stepped forward uncertainly.
Uncertainly, at least, until the applause began.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Tracy groaned, dropping her forehead onto
Nathan's shoulder.
"Have they forgotten that she was the one who got the prom canceled to begin
with?"
"Actually, Nathan, that was you."
"And you," he snapped back.
She chuckled into the material of his tux.
"Then I guess we all got what was coming to us."
The clapping crescendo-ed around them as Simone stepped into Mohinder's arms,
laughing as he twirled and then dipped her. He released her just as the other
students crowded in. Nathan caught a flash of Eden's hand bag as she offered
Simone tissues to dab at her eyes with, saving her carefully applied make up.
Peter and Claire stood on the periphery of the crush, Claire reaching out
tentatively to take Peter's hand. Nathan met Peter's eyes, and then looked
away.
"I'm going to get some punch," Nathan said gruffly, pushing away from Tracy.
"If you get drunk, don't even bother coming on stage with me!"
***
Claire found him later in the emergency stairwell, foot tapping unwillingly to
Outkast. He was three deep into Mohinder and Eden's mystery concoction, and
feeling no better for it.
"Hey," she said softly. "They're doing the prom king and queen announcements
soon. Shouldn't you be out there?"
"Tracy's got it covered."
"Right." She shifted on her heels awkwardly, before huffing out a sigh and
sitting next to him on the steps. "I wanted to apologize. I was a real bitch to
you, and I know I got you and Peter... and Dad in trouble somehow. I shouldn't
have been so selfish."
"It's okay, Claire."
"No, it's not! I did everything I accused you of doing, and I wouldn't even be
here at the prom if not for you. I should be thanking you."
Nathan chuckled lowly.
"Really, Claire. Don't. I was using you. And the reason you are here is that Ma
decided to teach me a lesson. I didn't do anything for your sake."
"What lesson could that teach?"
Nathan wracked his brain, not entirely sure himself. He had the feeling it was
something along the lines of A good boy can look but not touch, but he couldn't
say that.
"That I'm not as smart as I think I am."
"Still," Claire said, looking down. "I owe you."
She fidgeted with her hands, trying to brush off the step next to her. A line
of disgust formed between her eyebrows as she brought back a dust covered hand.
"Are you," she started, eyes still downcast, "Are you ever going to tell me
what you and Peter are in trouble for? I could help you. I'm your sister now,
you know."
"If you're our sister, why do you keep trying to date Peter?" he asked with a
snort.
Claire stiffened, hackles up.
"If you treated me like a sister, maybe I wouldn't."
Not likely, with our family.
"It doesn't matter, though. That's all I am to him," she admitted, eventually.
She leaned back, elbows resting three steps up as she gazed toward the
hypnotically spiraling staircase above them.
"You're lucky. That's a good thing to be."
"If you say so. Sometimes I think I've got more than enough family already."
Nathan leaned back with her, looking down to the top of her head, feeling a
surge of feelings he'd almost call fraternal.
"I will tell you, Claire."
"Hmm?" she asked, tilting her head so her green eyes met his.
"What we got in trouble for. I'll tell you, someday."
She smiled.
"Good enough. Now," she said, springing back up and offering him her hand, "I
didn't come in here for the atmosphere. Dad says Angela will kill us all if we
don't get a group photo. She wants to see her boys all dressed up."
They exited back into the light of the dance, now focused on the stage as Tracy
joined Dr. Suresh on stage to crown the prom court. Heidi and Monica stood next
to Niki, crowned with tiaras already, holding their ridiculous scepters as they
grinned like fools. On the other side, DL stood with Hiro and that Haitian
exchange student attending him.
As they wove through the crowd, Nathan could swear he heard Simone whisper
something about getting the exchange student's phone number. He wondered if he
should tell Peter, but decided against it. He'd done enough to meddle there.
The group gathered together down the hall with the photographer, waiting as he
sorted out his memory cards and tested the lens flare of Bennet's glasses.
Impulsively, Nathan tugged on Peter's arm, drawing him away to talk.
"Ow, Nathan, what?" Peter groused, rubbing at his arm. Yeah, whatever, like he
was that frail. Nathan hadn't even been pulling that hard, although with three
very stiff drinks in him it was getting more difficult to tell.
"We need to talk."
"Yeah, and you need to get your head examined. We've been through this."
Peter made to walk back to the photography room, and Nathan grabbed him again,
swinging him back around.
"Nathan, just stop it," Peter said. "You don't want to talk about what's
important. I get it."
"Well, I do now."
Fixing him with a skeptical look, Peter crossed his arms and waited.
"You were right," Nathan said in a rush, before correcting himself. "And wrong.
I moved the prom date. Not to celebrate, though. Just to talk. We needed to
talk about Dad."
"So talk."
Oh thanks, Pete. You choose now to clam up about your feelings? That wasn't
fair, though. Peter always talked about his feelings. He always talked about
Dad, and Nathan knew better than anyone how Peter felt about him. As much of a
trainwreck as Peter was otherwise, his feelings on that topic were at least
consistent.
"I don't hate him. I tried, for you. And for myself, because I know you're
never supposed to hit a kid and that kid is damned well not supposed to keep
loving you after you do it."
"It's okay if you do," Peter said, expression softening. "These things are
complicated."
Nathan shook his head.
"Pete, I know what he did to you. I should have stopped it."
"I knew what he was doing to you. I should have stopped that," Peter replied,
making Nathan's head snap up.
"No, don't you ever blame yourself."
Peter offered a small, pained smile.
"Why not? It's fun for the whole family."
Nathan blew out a long breath off air, pacing away from Peter, feeling his eyes
itch with unshed tears and his palms sweat. He needed to stop stalling and say
it. They'd been over all of this – in bed, in therapy, in car rides home after
bad days at school. The pity party was getting old.
Staring at the closed door that Bennet and Claire waited behind, Nathan started
over, asking, "You never said anything about Linderman."
"You did what you had to do," Peter said with a confused shrug. "I understand."
"I don't want you to understand. I hate Linderman. I hate everything he has
done to our family and I hate that I'm expected to just step into Dad's shoes
and take up business with him," Nathan paused, centering himself after the
admission before plunging on, "I moved the prom so we could talk about Dad, but
that was before I realized what I had to do. It's why I didn't mind going to
Linderman.
"He's not the one killing this family, Pete. It's us."
"No. No, it's not," Peter said, tone suddenly fierce.
"Pete, you know it is. This is tearing you apart. I'm tearing you apart."
"You're not the bad guy here, Nathan. I love you. I came to you. If anything,
this is more my fault..."
Nathan put a hand on Peter's shoulder, wary and prepared to become restraining
if need be. Instead he felt the tension drain as Peter trailed off, his eyes
filled with fear.
"I don't want to be like Dad, Pete," Nathan whispered.
"You're not. You love me." And he never did.
Unable to help himself anymore, Nathan wrapped his arms around Peter, feeling
his brother immediately curl into the embrace, resting wet eyes on his
shoulder.
"I do love you," Nathan said into his hair. "And that's why I want to do this.
I just want to be your brother again."
"You're always my brother," Peter mumbled.
"Well, now I'll be more your brother. Nothing else."
Peter sniffled, and Nathan stroked his hair, reminding himself that this was
still allowed. This was brotherly.
Despite his tears, Peter was relaxed in Nathan's arms. Not clinging, not
desperate, not yearning for the things he shouldn't have. Because he had it,
and maybe it was enough for once. They stood together two songs – Nathan didn't
have any other measure of time – and for the first time in a very long time,
Nathan felt at ease when they began to break apart.
"Are you still going to date?" Peter asked, lifting his head to look at Nathan.
His laugh was suspiciously wet, but real when he replied, "All the time, Pete."
"Should I?"
"No. You're going to become a priest."
"You have a filthy imagination, Nathan."
The door to the photographer rattled, and Claire poked her head out. She glared
at them and waved her hand imperiously to beckon them in, a gesture that was
pure Angela. Maybe she'd make it in the family, yet.
Sharing a quick, hesitant smile, Nathan looped his arm around Peter's waist to
lead him into the room. They may have been brothers, but they were still
Petrellis.
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