scribblinlenore | Holiday Fluff Advent Style: Day Twenty-Two (Heroes)

Day Twenty-Two: Phenomenology of a Christmas Sweater, Heroes, Nathan/Peter, PG, (warning for incest)

Phenomenology of a Christmas Sweater
by Lenore

Nathan and Peter have their own holiday tradition, not quite a secret, but certainly private, a holdover from their very public, nanny-tended childhood. Back then, the annual Petrelli Christmas Eve party was the most important political meet-and-greet of the season, the guest list sometimes numbering in the hundreds, senators and activist-minded B-list celebrities and other ambitious people happy to sacrifice quiet family time to further their own personal agendas.

Preparations for the boys' appearance at this big event began a good week beforehand with haircuts and a visit to the tailor and more than one lecture about proper behavior, this latter aimed almost exclusively at Peter. The night of, they'd stand there wearing new suits and plastic smiles, Pete stiffly, Nathan more naturally, able to hide his boredom in the veneer of what was expected.

They shook hands and nodded politely and said over and again, "Good to see you, sir" and "Don't you look nice, ma'am." When the eggnog had sufficiently diminished their mother's ability to keep tabs on them, they fled up to Nathan's room, throwing off their jackets and ties, sitting cross-legged on the floor to exchange presents. No mugging for the camera or playing the part of well-behaved young boys for influential strangers, just the two of them, the way it always seemed to be, and Peter would feel an odd and familiar sense of waiting, for something, he never knew what.

These days, it's Nathan's own party that they patiently, or not so patiently, wade through before they can make their escape. The festivities finally dwindle, and Nathan brushes a kiss to Heidi's cheek and says, "I won't be long." His relief as they step out into the night, the cold biting through Peter's coat in just the few seconds it takes to dash to the car, is so sharp it makes Peter wish he hadn't seen it. A person can build a trap for themselves out of what they think they want. This is something Peter never says to his brother.

Nathan stows the shopping bag in the backseat, and they don't say much on the drive, just watch the lights and greenery of the season blur past.

Peter cleaned up for the occasion, at least what passes for that at his place. Nathan settles onto the couch with a heavy sigh, and Peter knows it has nothing to do with his haphazard housekeeping. He doesn't need to ask if Nathan wants a drink. He pours two fingers of Scotch into a relatively clean jelly jar. Nathan doesn't tell him to get some real housewares like an actual grownup. It is the holidays.

They chink glasses and the toast goes unstated, Here's to just the two of us, finally.

"So you ready to do this?" Nathan asks with a tired smile.

Peter nods and goes to get Nathan's present from his bedroom. When he comes back, Nathan has laid out his packages on the coffee table.

"You first," Peter tells him.

Nathan grins as he grabs the package out of Peter's hands--he never minds being first--and he rips the paper, never one to be careful in these moments. He stills when he sees what's inside, gaze fastened first on the drawing and then on Peter.

"It's for your office, when you get elected," Peter explains. "Simone helped me pick it out. She says this artist has a lot of promise."

"I love it. Thank you," Nathan's voice is quiet, and Peter can feel his own smile lighting up, because he knows what this means, that Nathan genuinely likes his gift. Happiness has always had a solemn tinge in his brother.

Now it's Peter's turn, and Nathan steers him toward the smaller of the two packages. "This one first."

It's as if their shadow sides come out in receiving gifts, because Peter is always meticulous, taking the paper neatly apart at the seams, preserving the bow. Inside is a cell phone, one of the fancy ones if he's not mistaken, and before he can say anything, Nathan jumps in, "I know you hate them, and you don't want one and that's why you always lose the ones mom gets you, but don't lose this one, all right? It has my number programmed into it, and the next time...something happens, you'll have it and you can call me. You won't have to wait for some hayseed sheriff to decide it's okay." There's a sense of urgency in this, and Nathan balances that out with a joke, "Okay, so it's really a present for me, to make it easier when I have to come running to bail you out."

That's not what this is at all, Peter knows, but he jokes back, "I can't wait to test it out."

Nathan pulls a face at him and takes a long sip of his drink and nods toward the other package. "Don't forget that one."

This is tradition too, and Peter ceremonially shakes the package. "I wonder what it could be."

Nathan's eyes light with amusement before the joke has even played out.

Peter opens the package and makes big, surprised eyes. "Hey, just what I wanted, the world's ugliest Christmas sweater!" He makes a production of unfurling it and holding it up, and he's not exaggerating in the least. The somewhat misshapen reindeer with its red puffball of a nose is gaudier and more horrible even than last year's fluorescent snowman. Peter honestly has no idea where Nathan finds such treasure troves of festive hideousness.

Nathan relaxes back against the cushions, smiling. "Aren't you going to put it on?"

This tradition of theirs is more recently forged. In college, Peter took a class in the sociology department that set students up with a real world job, so they could see what it was like and then write a paper about the experience. His family was overjoyed at the thought of his doing something so practical until they found out he'd elected to work at a nursing home, then the encouragement quickly turned to questions about why he was wasting his time.

Peter loved it, though, and at Christmas, Mrs. Parkins, the lady he'd do crossword puzzles with and listen to stories about her grandchildren who lived too far away to visit, shyly presented him with a package. After many assurances that she really didn't have to, he opened it, and there was a Christmas sweater with a huge red and green Christmas tree appliquéd on it. Of course, she'd wanted to see him in it, and he wasn't going to disappoint a lonely old woman who'd used her precious Social Security dollars to buy him something for the holidays. He wore it around the nursing home the rest of the day, and every time Mrs. Parkins caught sight of him, she smiled. By the time he left to go home, Peter found he'd developed a fondness for the sweater.

He would have worn it to the family soiree that night just to see his mother's reaction, but Nathan waylaid him first, dragging him off to one of the unused sitting rooms before his parents or their guests caught sight of him.

"Very funny." Nathan crossed his arms over his chest.

"One of the residents gave it to me," Peter insisted, although he knew that Nathan wouldn't be swayed by that.

"Well, take it off, so we can go make an appearance, and get the hell out of here."

"I thought I'd wear it."

"You thought wrong."

"What? Are you going to make me take it off?"

Nathan's eyes lit up crazily. Challenging him was like waving red at an especially determined bull. Peter didn't move quite fast enough, and Nathan fought dirty, crowding him against the wall and pulling at the sweater and tickling to get him to raise his arms.

"You're a jerk, you know that?" Peter said, out of breath from trying to wrestle Nathan off him.

Nathan nodded, dropping the sweater to the floor. "Yeah. I know." He glanced up. "Hey, look where we're standing."

Their mother's decorator was apparently flush with love for his new boyfriend, and there was a veritable jungle of mistletoe spread everywhere throughout the house.

"Don't even think about it," Peter said, which was pretty much daring Nathan to do it, and later, he would wonder if that had been the point.

Nathan caught Peter's jaw and held him still and laid a wet, smacking kiss on his forehead.

Peter made a face. "Is that the best you can do?"

Nathan gave him a long, considering look, and then he closed his eyes and Peter did too, an instinctive sympathy. This time the kiss was careful, serious, Nathan's mouth on his, just a brush of lips to begin, Nathan's breath stirring his skin. There was no hurry to deepen the caress. It happened in its own good time, Nathan slowly taking him over, tasting, exploring, the most thoroughly Peter was ever kissed, either before or since.

"That good enough for you?" Nathan asked as he pulled away.

I don't know was what came into Peter's head, although what he said was something brotherly and teasing. He brushed sweater lint off his button-down shirt, and when they left the room to go join the party, Nathan slung an arm over his shoulders, just like he always did.

Peter has been getting Christmas sweaters ever since.

He struggles his way into this one, and Nathan tilts his head appraisingly. "That's a good look for you." Peter smirks, and Nathan raises his glass, suddenly serious. "Merry Christmas, little brother."

He downs the rest of his Scotch, and Peter wonders as he does every year what Nathan is trying to say with this gesture, "it was nothing" or "it's nothing I ever want to forget."

Peter offers him another drink, and Nathan shakes his head, and there's not much more to say. That old feeling of waiting is between them, is in Peter, like an empty place in his chest, and at last Nathan sighs and claps his hands down on his thighs and gets to his feet. "Well, I guess I'd better..."

Peter nods and walks him to the door, and right before he goes, Nathan cups Peter's cheek in his hand, and Peter can see the relentless waiting in his brother too. He doesn't know what would happen if he shut his eyes and closed those last few lonely inches, if it might lead moment by inexorable moment to Peter's bed, to Nathan taking that god-awful sweater off him for good. Every year he wonders.

"Get home safe," he says, and Nathan nods, and then he's gone.

Every year, Peter wonders if next Christmas will be the one when he stops wondering and finds out.

Current Mood: working

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

linaerys.livejournal.com

Ah, I can read PG-rated incest, it seems. And good thing, too, because this was a nifty look at moments public and private, and had lovely character notes for both of them as well.

Of course the ending gave me the creepy-incest-squirm, but that's as it should be, too.

From:

Not a homecoming queen

Holiday Fluff Advent Style: Day Twenty-Two (Heroes)

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