Disclaimer: Nathan and Peter do not belong to me, but I do own the dirty things my mind makes them do.
Author's note: Written for the mission_insane prompt, "Snow." If you can, I recommend that you listen to Massive Attack's "Teardrop" while reading the "shower scene," because that's what I was listening to while writing it. Also, many, many special thanks to bettareader for playing "Teardrop" over and over again at my request in order to set "the mood."
Summary: Peter wishes that Nathan would spend more time with him, and his wish is granted in ways he'd never expected.
Nathan was back. He’d promised the family that he would be home for Christmas, and true to his word, he showed up at the Petrelli homestead late at night, two weeks before the holiday. Peter had nearly knocked him over with the excitement that had built up inside him throughout the day, hugging him with an intensity that could have cracked the older man’s ribs.
Since then, Peter felt that was the only moment that he and Nathan had to themselves; their parents had expected Nathan to attend parties to show him off as well as further his career. Peter, on the other hand, had been expected to stay home during half of these events. But whether he tagged along or stayed behind, he still wasn’t spending any real time with his big brother.
But then Mr. and Mrs. Petrelli had an invitation to visit friends out-of-state, and Nathan finally declined to go with them. Peter had pretended not to care one way or another, but he nearly choked on his cereal when he heard that he’d be alone with his brother for three whole days.
Peter woke up early on the first morning of their parents’ departure, feeling that something was different. When he sat up and opened his eyes, he knew that it had snowed overnight. He grinned and leapt out of bed, throwing on clothes that were appropriate for the weather before running down the hall to tell Nathan.
When he reached Nathan’s room, he found that his brother was already awake, doing push-ups on the floor. Peter froze for a moment, watching, then bit his lip and knocked on the door as he pushed it open further. “It’s snowing, Nate,” he informed his brother expectantly.
“I noticed,” Nathan grunted, continuing his exercise routine.
“We should go out.” Peter was already bouncing on the balls of his feet, ready to run outside; he hadn’t been out in the snow with his big brother in a long time.
“Not now, Pete,” Nathan said shortly, rotating positions on the floor so he could start doing sit-ups. “Later, okay?”
After nearly a week of being more like acquaintances than brothers, Peter finally had enough. “Fine,” he snapped, turning on his heel and storming out of the room. “Why didn’t you go with Mom and Dad to Vermont if it’s such a chore to be with me?” He ran through the house to the door, then slipped outside to enjoy the snow by himself.
The immediate vicinity wasn’t exactly picture perfect, and Peter had to be careful not to slip on any ice or slush on the way to a small, empty plot of land that was situated several blocks away; he and Nathan had found it years ago, and Peter had been going back to it ever since. It wasn’t exactly the biggest place to enjoy the snow, but chances were that it would be relatively—if not completely—secluded, since most people would be up on rooftops or at the nearest park.
When Peter reached the plot, a half-smile played on his features as he noticed that no one had been there before him; it helped that it was only 5:30 A.M. He ran to the middle of the lot and fell down onto his back, then began making a snow angel. He looked up at the dark, early morning sky, watching tiny, petal-soft white flakes drift down to land on his cheeks and bat against his eyelashes. He opened his mouth to catch a few, tasting Christmas on his tongue. He didn’t need Nathan around to have a good time anyway; after all, his brother was barely home anymore in the first place.
After several minutes of just lying completely still in the snow, listening to the city, Peter sat up, then rose to his feet carefully so he wouldn’t ruin the snow angel he’d created. As soon as he had stepped away from his work of art, a snowball hit him squarely between the shoulder blades. He whirled around in surprise and saw his brother standing there, holding another snowball. “I was beginning to think you might’ve fallen asleep down there.”
Peter stuck his tongue out, the grin on his face making it difficult to do so as he instantly forgot he was angry with the older man. He bent down to start making his own snowball, but the one that hit him in the process had enough power to knock him over onto his backside. “Hey! No fair!” he protested, laughing.
“But it’s war, Peter,” Nathan said rationally, hitting Peter in the chest with yet another snowball—how was he making them so fast?
Peter shot up to his feet and hastily constructed a snowball to retaliate with, then threw it at Nathan, but his brother side-stepped it easily; it fell apart before it even hit the ground. As Peter was looking at his poor excuse for a weapon in dismay, another snowball hit him directly on the back of his head. He grunted and whipped his head around, finding that Nathan was already on the move again to the other side of the lot. Peter let out a yell and chased after his brother, who dodged just out of his grasp with such ease and grace that he was almost jealous; he would never be able to catch up with his big brother. “Nathan!” he finally cried out, laughing hysterically, “Come on!”
Nathan suddenly stopped moving away, and instead tackled Peter to the ground so quickly that it took a moment for Peter to realize he was no longer upright. He immediately burst into a fit of giggles. “How did you do that?” he asked, curling in on himself as he tried to catch his breath. “Move so fast, I mean. You’re like some kind of superhero or something.” He smiled up at his brother, his vision partially obscured by the thick wool beanie that had drooped sideways to cover part of his right eye.
“Didn’t you know that big brothers are superheroes?” Nathan asked jokingly.
Peter giggled again. “I never doubted it,” he said earnestly. “I love you, Nate.”
Peter wasn’t sure why such a long, tense silence followed, but he did worry that he’d said something wrong when Nathan didn’t even move for awhile; his brother just looked down at him, an unfamiliar expression darkening his eyes. Just when Peter was about to throw out a hasty apology, Nathan leaned down and kissed him. It could have been an affectionate, brotherly kiss; they exchanged them frequently, after all. But Nathan let his lips linger on Peter’s just a moment too long, and cupped Peter’s cheek with a gloved hand. When he finally pulled away, it was only far enough to whisper, “I love you, too,” his lips still brushing against Peter’s.
They stayed there on the snow for several seconds, studying each other’s face. When Nathan began to look uncomfortable, like he might have done something to upset Peter, the younger Petrelli smiled and leaned upward to return the kiss. It was simple and chaste, but with an underlying meaning; a possibility of more to come. “Good,” he said, before scooping up a handful of snow and lobbing it into his brother’s face. He yelled triumphantly and jumped to his feet, pumping his fists into the air. “I did it! I got you!”
While he was distracted with his semblance of a victory dance, Nathan grabbed a handful of snow and dropped it down Peter’s back. Peter squealed and arched his body, trying to put distance between the snow and his bare skin. He began to topple backward, but Nathan caught him, looping his arms around Peter’s chest. “Wuss,” Nathan teased, his voice soft. He used one hand to reach up beneath Peter’s many layers of clothing and moved it from side to side in order to brush away all of the snow.
“I am not!” Peter protested, trying to break out of his brother’s grip. Nathan was too strong though, and easily pinned his arms at his sides. “Stop it!” Peter commanded, not really wanting him to. Nathan merely chuckled warmly and rested his chin on top of Peter’s head, pulling Peter back into his own body so that his front was flush against Peter’s back.
Peter relaxed, enjoying the warm sensation that spread through his body as if he just drank a cup of one of his old nannies’ hot peppermint chocolate. After a few minutes of staying in the same position, Nathan gently rocking them from side to side, his big brother shifted to rest his head on Peter’s shoulder. “Your hat itches,” Nathan complained quietly, his breath warming Peter’s ear.
Peter snorted and pushed his weight back into his brother. “Yeah, and who bought it for me last year?” he retorted. “I never thought my own brother would buy me clothes.”
Nathan laughed. “You needed something better for your head than a hooded sweatshirt—you spend so much time out in the snow and the rain; I don’t want you getting sick.”
“Aw, you care about me,” Peter quipped, rolling his eyes.
“Yeah.” Nathan’s voice was deep, barely above a whisper. “I do.” Peter shivered and pressed himself even more into Nathan’s strong frame. Nathan responded by rubbing his hands up and down Peter’s arms, then kissed the side of his neck, right behind his ear. “Let’s get you back inside before you freeze.”
“You’re the one who stuffed snow in my shirt,” Peter pointed out, disappointed that their moment would be ending soon. But Nathan wrapped his arm around Peter’s waist and began to lead him back home, the sky slowly lightening to a pale gray as more and more people began to appear.
They were nearly home when Nathan slowed his pace. “Pete, you know I like being with you, right? I’m glad that you and I finally got some time to ourselves.”
Peter nodded. “Yeah, I know. I just forget sometimes.” He shrugged. “Now you’ve got two more days to remind me.” He smiled playfully. “That is, unless you have other stuff to do,” he added, not wanting to annoy him.
“Nah, I’m all yours until Ma and Dad get back,” Nathan assured him, squeezing his torso in a half-hug as they approached their front door. “I was up early this morning so I could get most of my work done.” He held open the door for Peter, then stepped inside himself and immediately began peeling off layers of coats, sweaters, and socks.
Peter felt that warmness spread through him again. “Thanks, Nathan.”
His brother’s response was to take off Peter’s hat, kiss the top of his head, then walk in the direction of the kitchen. “Hurry up and take off those wet clothes before you get a chill,” he called out behind him, disappearing into the sizeable estate.
Peter hastily obeyed, not bothering to lay out his clothes neatly to dry like Nathan had; he left them all behind in a sloppy, wet pile and took off in the same direction his brother had gone. When he reached the kitchen, his brother was microwaving two large mugs of water. “Go sit down in the living room,” Nathan ordered, pulling a spoon out of the silverware drawer. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
Peter obeyed, sprinting to the living room and diving onto the couch. He’d broken the family’s last sofa because he’d watched Cliff Huxtable jump onto one, feet first in an episode of The Cosby Show, and his mother had demanded he never do it again. However, his mother wasn’t at home at the moment, and he was so full of happy energy that he had to burn it off somehow. Thankfully, the furniture didn’t break and he curled up into a corner of the expensively simple sofa, tucking his feet underneath him in order to warm them up. He wrapped his arms around himself and rocked in circles, more to reign in his emotions than to fight off the cold.
Nathan came into the room a few minutes later, with two mugs of hot cocoa in each hand and a thick blanket draped over one arm. He set the drinks down on the coffee table in front of the couch, then walked over to the TV, selecting a tape and popping it into the VCR. “What are we watching?” Peter asked, sitting up straighter in anticipation.
“Wait and see,” his brother responded in a fashion that was typically Nathan, making Peter feel another surge of warmth rush through him.
Nathan sat down on the couch next to his little brother and unfolded the blanket, draping it over their laps. He picked up the mugs from the coffee table and handed one to Peter, then pulled the blanket up so it was tucked under their chins. When the movie began to play, Peter had to refrain from bouncing on the couch like he had when he was little. “The Little Drummer Boy? I thought you couldn’t stand the Rankin and Bass films?” Peter looked at Nathan teasingly.
Nathan swiped at Peter’s head playfully. “No, I said I didn’t want to watch them when other people were around.”
Peter giggled. “Right, because you didn’t want them to see that you tear up when the choir starts singing ‘The Little Drummer Boy.’”
Nathan pinched Peter’s side, just below his ribs, making Peter squeal and jerk away. “At least I don’t bawl whenever they sing the star song,” he shot back.
Peter only stuck out his tongue, then took a sip of his hot chocolate. His eyebrows raised in surprise at the unexpected taste. “What did you put in this?” he asked.
Nathan laughed and took a sip from his own mug. “Bailey’s. You’ve never had any before?”
Peter shook his head and drank some more. “I don’t really like drinking. But this stuff’s okay.” He licked his lips in appreciation. Nathan just snuck an arm around Peter and pulled him in closer. Peter shifted a little so that he was nestled into his big brother’s side, his head resting on his shoulder.
They watched the Christmas movie in companionable silence, while Nathan carded his fingers through Peter’s hair, and Peter’s eyes welled up every three minutes. When the Vienna Boys Choir finally began singing his favorite song and the tears finally spilled over onto his cheeks, Nathan didn’t laugh, but instead brought his other arm around him for an embrace, squeezing him tightly as he kissed his hair again. And when the choir sang “The Little Drummer Boy” and Nathan’s eyes misted over, Peter remained silent and nuzzled his brother’s shoulder.
When the movie ended, they both stayed on the sofa, staring at the screen. Eventually, Peter started to get up to eject the tape, but Nathan pulled him back down. Peter raised an eyebrow in question, then felt his breath catch in his throat when Nathan pushed him back into the corner of the furniture and leaned over so he was resting on top of him. “Peter…”
Peter swallowed, caught up in the warmth that was now making him flush with an almost uncomfortable heat. “Nathan.” He reached out and lightly traced the outline of his brother’s face with his index finger, stopping at the scars to caress his chin. Nathan made a noise that Peter wasn’t familiar with and kissed him again. Peter returned the kiss, sliding his hand up in order to cup the back of Nathan’s head. The fact that he was making out on the couch with his big brother briefly crossed his mind, but he didn’t even think to find anything strange about it.
Nathan’s tongue slid along the seam of Peter’s lips, and Peter immediately parted them. Nathan slipped his tongue into Peter’s mouth and rolled it along the younger boy’s. He splayed a hand over Peter’s chest, using his index finger and thumb to tease a nipple through the soft cotton of his white tee shirt. Peter whimpered and arched up into Nathan, lifting his left hand to join his other one at the nape of his brother’s neck.
Nathan groaned and kissed Peter’s jaw wetly, then dipped his head to lick his Adam’s apple. “Mine,” he growled, stroking Peter’s growing erection through his thin pajama pants. “You’re mine.” He bit down on the skin above Peter’s collar bone and sucked hard enough to leave a mark, then bucked against him to create more friction between them, making Peter gasp.
“Nathan,” Peter moaned, his voice strained. “It’s too much. I’m gonna—”
“It’s all right, baby,” Nathan whispered reassuringly, watching Peter’s face intently. “Come for me.” He reached inside Peter’s pajama bottoms and wrapped his fingers around Peter’s cock, locking eyes with his younger brother as he began to jack him off quickly. Peter couldn’t look away from his brother’s burning gaze—he didn’t want to look away. He bit his lip and came, too enthralled by Nathan’s presence to be ashamed of how weak his will power had been.
Nathan kissed him lazily, then stood up. “Let’s go get you cleaned up,” he said, holding out his clean hand to help Peter to his feet.
“But what about you?” Peter asked, surprised by how breathless he sounded.
“That’s what the shower’s for,” Nathan explained, leading the way to the bathroom.
Peter laughed softly and followed Nathan. They closed the bathroom door and began to strip out of their clothes, almost painfully aware of each other’s presence; Peter was so keyed up with sexual tension that each piece of clothing he pulled off seemed to crackle with static electricity. Nathan turned on the water, testing the temperature, and stepped into the shower. He gestured for Peter to follow, and Peter slipped in, sliding the opaque glass door along the sleek metal rail until it locked into place.
Nathan instantly pulled Peter’s head under the hot water, then began to lather up his hair with apple-scented shampoo. Peter reveled in the wave of pleasure that shot through him, already becoming hard again. He looked down at Nathan’s erection, felt his mouth water as possibilities flashed across his mind, but then he forced himself to pull away from his brother’s gently massaging fingers. “Nathan?” He looked down at the tiled floor, irked by his sudden need for an explanation as to what they were doing. “Uh, what exactly is this? I’m just curious,” he hastened to add. “I mean, this just sort of sprang up on me.”
Nathan sighed and frowned in thought. “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “This just took me by surprise, too.” He scratched the back of his head, then smiled. “Let’s just see where this leads until Ma and Dad get back. We’ll talk about it then, okay?”
Peter didn’t want to think about the chance of this ending in three days, but he nodded in agreement. “Okay.” He let Nathan finish washing his hair, then felt his stomach tighten with nerves as he asked if his brother wanted him to do the same for him. Nathan grinned and bent his head slightly to give Peter easier access.
Peter squeezed a dollop of shampoo into his hand, then began to work the liquid through his brother’s hair. He took a chance and pressed a quick kiss to his brother’s lips, but when he tried to break away, Nathan secured him in place with his arms around his waist and deepened the kiss. Peter forgot to be hesitant and let his hands travel down to Nathan’s ass, pulling their bodies together in order to trap their dicks against their stomachs. Nathan groaned and stretched out one arm to brace himself against the shower door. “Peter,” he said roughly.
Peter nipped Nathan’s jaw lightly with his teeth, then pressed another kiss against the sensitive scars there. “It’s your turn, remember?” He dropped to his knees and found himself facing Nathan’s erection. His nerves took over again and he looked up at his brother. “What do I do?” he asked uncertainly. “What do you want?”
Nathan shuddered and closed his eyes tightly. “Just circle the tip with your tongue,” he said after a moment, opening his eyes again. He looked down to watch his brother do as he was told, and found breathing extremely difficult when Peter’s velvety-soft tongue curled around the head of his cock—how had he learned to do that? He swallowed hard, then said, “Okay, just keep doing tha-at—” He inhaled sharply as Peter licked a stripe along the slit of Nathan’s penis. “Fuck!” he exclaimed, pounding his fist against the shower door.
Peter paused and looked up at Nathan. “Is that all right?”
Nathan nodded, teeth clenched tightly together. “‘S fine,” he ground out. “You’re doing good.”
Peter nodded, reassured, then continued to lick Nathan’s dick, until he finally sucked it into his mouth. He took too much too soon and gagged a little, pulling back. “Sorry,” he apologized, beating his chest as he coughed.
Nathan reached down with his free hand and tilted Peter’s head up in order to make eye contact. “No, it’s fine. Just take your time.”
Peter licked his lips, then went back down on Nathan, slowly inching his mouth up the length of Nathan’s erection until his lips and nose brushed against wiry, dark pubic hair. Nathan breathed shakily, his hand slipping a little on the shower door so he was almost bent double, and buried his other hand into Peter’s long hair. Peter began to work his throat muscles, sucked the air out of his cheeks, and began to slide Nathan in and out of his mouth.
Nathan gasped, curling the fingers he had braced against the glass door into talons. “Use—” he exhaled sharply, “use your teeth. Just scrape it. Not too hard.” Peter obeyed, lightly dragging his teeth along Nathan’s cock as he continued to suck rhythmically, then he brought one hand up to trace circles on the inside of his brother’s thigh while using the other one to roll his balls. Nathan finally couldn’t hold back anymore and backed away from Peter’s mouth with a wet pop.
Peter’s expression was a mixture of worry, shame, and confusion. “Did I—?”
Before Peter could finish asking his question, Nathan slid him roughly along the slick, tiled floor so that his back was pushed up against the corner where the shower door and the wall met. Nathan got down onto his knees, then used one hand to hike his younger brother’s leg up onto his shoulder as water pounded against his back. There was one static moment where Peter and Nathan’s eyes locked, pupils dilated and almost unnaturally bright, and then Nathan bent down and covered the younger man’s mouth with his own, plunging his tongue inside as he gently slid a water-slick finger into Peter’s hole.
Peter choked on a breath and bucked up into Nathan, his arms slamming against the wall and the shower door on either side of him. “Oh, fuck!” he shouted, closing his eyes and biting his lip.
Nathan’s grin was almost predatory as he placed his lips level with Peter’s ear and whispered huskily, “You like that?” Peter nodded, eyes still shut tightly. “You want more?” Nathan circled Peter’s entrance with the tip of his middle finger.
Peter arched into Nathan, his fingers trying to find purchase in the smooth surfaces of glass and marble. “Please,” he pleaded, eyes opening to peer up at Nathan trustingly.
Nathan drew in a breath through his nose, letting a second finger follow the first. He moved them slowly in a scissor-like motion, opening Peter up for him. “Easy,” he crooned as Peter kicked out with his other leg, attempting to lift himself up and push harder against Nathan’s hand. “We’ll get there.” He gave Peter another second to adjust, then slid in a third finger to join the others, hooking them to brush against his brother’s prostate.
Peter whimpered and slammed his arms against the shower door and wall again, his leg smacking against the floor. “Please!” he begged. “Just… God, I need you inside me now!” He pressed back into the corner as far as he could, using the motion to apply more friction between Nathan’s fingers and his hole.
Nathan pulled his fingers out slowly, not wanting to hurt Peter any more than was necessary, and planted his hand onto the floor beside Peter. He used his other hand to hold Peter’s hip in place, then lined his dick up with Peter’s hole and began to slip it in slowly, just a little bit at a time, making Peter writhe with need. When he was about halfway in, teeth clenched with the effort of holding back, he paused and asked, “Are you all right?”
Peter groaned. “I’m fine. Please, just hurry. I’ll be okay; I trust you.” He reached up to cup Nathan’s face with his hands and kissed him sloppily. “I’m good, I promise.”
Nathan nodded and kissed the corner of Peter’s mouth, then slid all the way in until his balls came into contact with Peter’s ass. Peter cried out incoherently and returned his hands to either side of him, making the door rattle on its support rail. “Jesus—fuck—son of a—Nathan!” he yelled out as Nathan began to glide in and out of him at an achingly slow pace.
He tried to buck up into his brother, but Nathan continued to hold him steady with a firm hand, keeping everything under his control. “Ssh,” he said softly, kissing Peter and biting down on his lower lip. “Just slow down. I’ve got you.”
Peter ground his teeth together, experiencing an intense mixture of pleasure and pain he’d never felt before. “I—ah!” He curled his fingers and toes, lifting himself upward in order to meet Nathan’s thrusts. “I don’t think I can hold out much longer.”
“I know,” Nathan said, his voice broken and raw. His lips curled into a possessive snarl, and he quickened his pace, finding a better grip on Peter and using it to propel himself harder into his brother. Peter’s cries became progressively louder and more incoherent until Nathan knew he was close to the edge, feeling himself arrive there as well. “Okay, come with me, baby,” he demanded, grabbing Peter’s cock and sliding his hand up and down the shaft roughly.
Peter shrieked as he came, and Nathan muffled the sound with his own mouth, barely noticing when Peter dug his nails deep into Nathan’s back. Nathan continued to crash into his brother through his orgasm, feeling the tension rush out of him as he came. “Oh, God, Peter!” he exclaimed, his voice oddly choked up with an overwhelming combination of emotions. This time Peter kissed Nathan, sucking his tongue into his mouth the same way he’d done with his cock only minutes before.
When Nathan was finished, he slumped against his brother, completely spent, and felt rather than saw Peter remove his leg from Nathan’s shoulder. He let himself be pulled into an embrace, and curled up against Peter’s side as the younger man stroked his hair and covered his face with kisses. “I love you,” Nathan murmured, disgruntled at being so tired.
Peter kissed him again, then hugged him tightly. “I love you, too.” He let his head fall on top of Nathan’s. “Thank you,” he added quietly, almost believing that what had happened had all been a dream.
Nathan nuzzled Peter’s neck, too tired to do anything else. “You’re welcome, Peter.”
They continued to rest there on the shower floor, until Peter halted the trail his hand had been making up and down Nathan’s back to ask, “What happens when the water gets cold?”