kelly_girl (
kelly_girl) wrote2007-08-31 10:00 am
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Entry tags:
Alphabet meme stories, Heroes, and one SPN
E, Everlasting, Heroes, Gen, PG13
Nathan thinks about Peter dying and coming back over and over. A cat might have nine lives, but Peter has more. What goes on between the time he dies and when he wakes up again? What does it do to a person when they can tuck their bones back into their body or survive a nuclear explosion? How much of the real person remains?
There are secrets in Peter’s eyes now. Two very long years of living and dying have put them there. Things Nathan has said and done have put them there. Nathan misses eager, naïve Peter, the one that came to him one day, and said he’d dreamed of flying again.
His daughter is never far from his thoughts in this matter either, but maybe because she’s younger or didn’t grow up a Petrelli, she seems happier, more well adjusted.
These days, his brother is more serious, more intense. He still smiled, but the smiles were as false as the ones Nathan used to use while campaigning. Nathan’s busy being a Congressman, but Peter’s busy saving people all over the world. It’s not like Nathan can brag, but he can worry.
He knows Peter knows this by the twist of Peter’s lips, and the heated look in his eyes. He tells Nathan that no one worries about him anymore, no one except Nathan. He tells Peter to stop reading his mind. Peter says he will, but his eyes slide away and it didn’t take a mind reader to know Peter’s lying. So Nathan learns to think in layers. That way Peter can skim, read, but still not know what Nathan is really thinking.
When Peter does his reappearing act in Nathan’s office, Nathan leashes the joy and pushes it deep. These days, Peter just looks at him; hair all slicked back, with his five-o’clock shadow and dark eyes. He answers some of Nathan’s questions about where he’s been and what he does, but other questions he ignores.
His smile is a smirk these days, and Nathan tries to remember at what point Peter started looking dangerous without radiation glowing from his hands.
F, First, Heroes, Nathan/Peter Angelo, R
Peter made sure the place was clean. Lot of tattoo places to pick from and this seemed like the one that would make his brother comfortable. Peter watched as Nathan took off his buttoned up oxford, or whatever the fuck rich boy brand name shirt, and talked to the artist. The artist nodded and reassured Nathan, though Peter had already done that with a blowjob and promises of another one later.
His skin felt tight as Nathan unbuckled and unzipped. A flash of pale skin was enough to have Peter swallowing and wondering if he’d be missed if he stepped into the bathroom for a quick jerk off. Nathan looked up like he knew what Peter was thinking and Peter figured if anyone did, his long lost brother did.
They didn’t grow up together, but the way they moved and twisted in and out of each other’s lives would be scary, if not for the blood that they had in common. Peter can’t explain it any other way.
Peter moved closer as Nathan pointed to the spot where he wanted the stylized P. It was going to look perfect on that soft vulnerable spot where thigh and groin met and right below his hip. Peter couldn’t wait to run his fingers over it, to let his tongue touch it and then suck Nathan into his mouth. That wouldn’t happen for awhile, but Peter could wait. He was impatient for a lot of things but for this, he could wait.
Nathan would tell his wife the P was for Petrelli, something he got done while with his old Navy buddies, but Peter knew it was for him. Nathan would never get a tattoo for anyone else. Peter watched as Nathan took a deep breath and relaxed. The quiet buzz of the tattoo gun was a familiar one to Peter. He’d gotten his first tattoo when he was sixteen.
He lightly touched the blank spot below his ribs on his left side. His turn was next and with no one he’d owe an explanation to, he’d decided on Nathan’s full name. Deep down where he mostly ignored his feelings, he sort of wished that this was going to be his first tattoo.
G, Glassy, Heroes, Nathan/Peter, PG13
Nathan looked out over the crowd of half-interested, half-bored supporters and told them about his brother’s suicide attempt. Suddenly he had everyone’s attention. He glanced from person to person, caught Peter’s shocked look and swallowed. Peter’s eyes were glassy with shock, but he recovered quickly.
Still, Nathan remembered another time when Peter looked like that. He’d been seventeen and kissed Nathan after some party. Nathan had pushed him away and told him no.
He continued his speech as Peter stalked out. Some looked at his retreating back and the swell of whispers began. Others nodded in sympathy as Nathan talked and spun the support for family into a talk about healthcare for everyone.
When Peter hit him down in the garage, Nathan was actually proud. He was tempted to buy Peter a drink when he swung and connected a second time. Peter wanted to believe the best about everyone and Nathan had just fractured that belief, maybe beyond repair. If so, he’d live with it, like he lived with a lot of things regarding Peter.
H, Happy Birthday, SPN, Sam, Gen. PG
Sam stepped out of the bathroom and paused. He didn’t have long to wait. Dean burst out laughing. Loud braying laughter that made Sam want to hit him really hard. Sam looked at his dad. Their eyes met and his father started snickering.
“You look very nice, son.”
Then he laughed too, deep guffaws that sounded like they came from his soul. Sam couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard his dad sound like that.
Sam looked down at his red shoes, no, red high heels. His fast changing fifteen year old legs were encased in black fishnet pantyhose that led up to a bright red mini-skirt. A stretchy black top and a blonde wig completed his disguise. He wobbled over to the bed and sat down. “I still don’t see why I had to wear the skirt.”
Dean patted him gently on the shoulder. “Well, it fits and you look so precious.”
Sam slapped his brother’s hand away, which only sent him into another round of laughter before he snorted out, “We should have got him those fake press on nails. His hands look too manly.”
Sam elbowed him in the ribs. Dean fell off the bed, still laughing. Sam rolled his eyes. “What do you know about fake nails? Been looking at the make-up aisle? Gonna paint your toenails?”
Dean sent him a pissy look. Sam smirked. It wasn’t his fault that four months ago, Dean had run into some girl that wanted to paint his toenails before she’d let him do anything to her. Dean had spent hours trying to get the red polish off his toes.
Dean stopped laughing. Their dad coughed to cover another laugh, and grabbed his notebook. “The ghost targets men that dress like women, so Sam doesn’t need anything else.” He looked Sam up and down, then squinted at Sam’s face. “Are you wearing lipstick?”
Sam squirmed as his dad leaned closer, and Dean jumped back on the bed to peer at Sam’s face.
Sam refused to look at either of them. “What? It was on sale!”
He didn’t need to look at them to see Dean and his dad glance at each other before they burst into laughter again. He crossed his arms and sat there while they giggled at him. They’d say they were laughing, but he knew giggling when he heard it. He glared at them with all the heat his fifteen-year-old heart could produce. “I hate you both. You and these stupid high-heels.”
Dean sat beside him and patted him on the knee. “Buck up, Princess. I got you birthday present.” He pulled out a small package and handed it over. Sam snarled at the nickname, and tore open the small box. He gasped quietly and picked up the blackened steel, butterfly knife with a reverence all three men appreciated. Sam looked at his brother and smiled.
Their dad cleared his throat and said, “Let’s go get this over with. After we kill this thing, we’ll go out for dinner.” He didn’t look at Sam as he continued. “You can even wear your new outfit.”
Sam muttered, “I still hate you both.”
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LMAO at the SPN one. So amazing. ^_^
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*dies*
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Or you may have already done that. Plus i'm in the middle of writing another one where tattooed Peter comes to New York.
I can't believe I wrote Supernatural. *shakes fist at insane fandom*