Agent Fox Mulder (i_want_2) wrote in 25prompts, @ 2008-08-18 17:40:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | i_want_2:heroes |
Heroes: General Fandom - Highschool - Adult
Title: Lolita
Author: Lopaka Tanu
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes.
Characters: Peter, Simone, Ted, Claire, Sylar, Zach, Nathan, Angela.
Words: 8273
Prompt: High School
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Peter/Ted, Claire/Zach, Peter/Sylar.
Rating: Adult
Warnings: Language, Violence.
Summary: 16yo Peter Petrelli is more trouble than anything else.
Author's Note: Non power AU. Peter and Claire are twins.
______________________________________
It was definitely a 67 Dodge Charger.
Sitting on his front porch, pencil to his cheek, Peter watched what he considered a work of sheer beauty turn the corner. He felt the slow rumble of the engine as it came up the street. There was just something about the old black car.
Peter was still admiring the sleek design when it turned again. Much to his surprise, it pulled up in Selma Todd's driveway. The man behind the wheel didn't look familiar, but it was hard to tell with all that wild hair. Thinking of the it made Peter reach up to his own. He pushed one of the stray locks behind his ear.
By the time he looked back, the car had come to a stop. He waited with baited breath, but the man continued to just sit there. He stopped breathing completely when the driver turned to look directly at him.
Color burned in his cheeks as Peter ducked his head. He quickly glanced up.
The man was still looking at him. Only now, the man was now grinning at him.
A goofy smile tugged at Peter's lips. He felt himself unable to quite meet the man's gaze. When he realized he had his fingers in his hair, he forced himself to let go and buried his hand under his school book. A quick look revealed the man found this amusing.
Rolling his eyes, Peter forced himself to focus back on his homework. He would not look up again. Not even when the door of that gorgeous car opened. His eyes wanted to jump up, but he kept them on the book even though he wasn't able to concentrate enough to read the words.
"Whoa, who's the Yetti?" Simone, tactless as always.
Pretending not to know what she was talking about, Peter looked to her, then followed where she pointed with his vision. His heart almost stopped the moment he saw the man.
Standing in the doorway of his car, he was bent over pulling something from the back seat. His leather jacket rode up to reveal jeans pulled snug over his ass.
Peter groaned. Pinking, he coughed and dropped his nose back in to his book. This time, it did not remain there. His eyes kept jump back and forth between the two until they settled on watching the stranger's lower half flex in his revealing clothes.
Snorting, Simone poked Peter with her pencil. "Oh, gross, tell me you're not interested."
He had to clear his throat several times. There was no way he could lie convincingly at that moment. So, he shook his head. This time, when he stuck his nose to the books, he forced himself to actually read the words.
So what that there was a hot guy not sixty feet away. A guy in tight jeans, with a leather jacket and masturbatory fantasy of a car.
Swallowing, Peter closed his eyes and groaned. They weren't going to get anything done at this pace. Peter closed his book. Standing up, he picked it and the paper up. "Come on, let's go inside. I've got to get this report done tonight."
"Yeah, okay." Unable to decide whether to be amused or disgusted, Simone followed suit. Carrying her bag, she gave the guy one last look. To her annoyance, she found him watching them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The lights were on in his neighbor's front room. He had been over there once, when he was a kid, but barely remembered what it was like. Since Mrs. Todd wasn't home, that meant the strange man was still there. Not that he'd mind.
Hearing a throat clear behind him, he rolled his eyes. He turned to glare at Simone, just wishing she would get over it already. It wasn't like she was any better, dating that stoner 'starving artist' of hers.
"Can we please get back to our Algebra assignment?" This was the tenth time she had had to drag his attention back to their work in the last hour. "I have to be home in forty minutes. If you don't get your act together, I'm just going to leave, Peter."
"Yeah, fine, let's go." Now that he thought about it, leaving sounded like a good idea. He stuffed his paper in the book, slamming it shut. Standing up from his bed, he stretched out his shaky legs.
Simone stared at him for a second, her eyebrows almost in her hair. "You're serious?"
"As a heart attack. We're not getting anything done here and I'm tired of this crap anyways." He gestured towards his doorway, rubbing the wrinkles out of cutoffs. When she just continued to stare at him, he rolled his eyes again and sighed. "Are you coming, or am I walking to your house all by myself?"
Shaking her head, Simone closed her book. There was no reasoning with Peter when he put his mind to something. That was one of the reasons they never hit it off. "Let me tell your sister bye."
Peter waved it off. "She's not even in right now. She's out fucking whats his name again." He ignored the way she was looking at him. Wandering over to his vanity top, he checked the arrangement of his hair. The long spikes over his right eye were missing the shine which meant he would have to use more gel or wash it soon.
He would deal with it when he got back.
With that done, he took a breath and exhaled it with false cheer. "Ready to go?"
Simone nodded. Walking to the door, she pulled it open. Much to her surprise, Peter had been right about Claire being gone. Her door was open and the light off. When she was home, it was never open. Now that she noticed, the entire house was dark. "Where's your father?"
"Out with his real family. Apparently Simon's prep school is having a 'function'." He put the last word in air quotes as he closed the door behind them. The walk down the hall was quick, him taking the lead in the dark. Holding her hand, Peter nearly pulled Simone off her feet as he took the stairs two at a time.
The only light in the lower level was in the front foyer, providing light for front doors. "Angela's going to be out for another hour at least, which means I got plenty of time to get back if we hurry." Leading her out on to the front porch, he didn't bother to lock it behind him.
Outside, Simone jerked Peter to a stop so she could catch her breath. She had to bend over to ease the strain against her lungs. Coughing a couple times, she glared at him. How he could go from slow to running like that without breathing heavily, was another mystery.
While she got her bearings, Peter decided to indulge his new interest. To his surprise, he found the stranger sitting on Selma's front stoop. He had a beer bottle in one hand and cigarette in the other. When the man looked over his way, Peter felt his face grow flushed. His giddy smile was interrupted by Simone's elbow to his ribs.
"Let's go! Geeze, it's like being around Claire. I can see the familial resemblance now." Shouldering her bag, Simone started off the porch and down the front walk.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Night, Mr. Deveaux!" Waving over his shoulder, closed the door behind him before the old man could say anything else. Another offer to drive him home, and Peter would have caved just to get him to shut up. He liked the older man, he really did, but the last thing he wanted to do was listen to another speech on how he would be such a great catch for Simone.
Hands deep in the front pockets of his jean shorts, he started off down the front walk. Simone's neighborhood wasn't run down by any stretch of the imagination. There was just something about it that felt depressing to him. He supposed it was the lack of originality in the architecture. Each house was an exact replica of the last.
It all screamed Stepford and gave him the willies.
At least one could never get lost in his neighborhood. Remove the street signs and he would never be able to find his way out of her's. He was so busy checking out the signs he didn't notice the car slow down beside him.
"Isn't it a little late for you to be out walking by yourself?"
Peter literally jumped. Whipping around, he found the stranger from next door leaning out the window of his car. He quickly recovered from the shock, smirking at the man. "Unless you got candy, I don't talk to strangers."
Snapping his fingers, the man put his cigarette to his lips. He took a quick drag and exhaled it across the sidewalk. "You're a little older, but I know who you are, Peter."
That didn't throw him as much as he might have thought. Peter studied the man's face, the way his brow was slightly prominent under his curly wild and curly hair. Chuckling, he bit his lower lip. "You could have found that out from anyone."
"True, but not this time. I knew your father and your mother." Shaking his head, he put the car in park. He stuck the cigarette between his lips, using his hands to pull himself through the window of his car. Getting his feet beneath him, he threw out his arms. "Taadaa!"
Peter found himself slapping his hands together, then pointing at the other man. "TeddieBear!" A sudden feeling of happiness washed through him, followed quickly by disappointment. This must have shown on his face because Ted dropped his gaze. "Nathan still talks about you."
Taking the cigarette from his mouth, Ted dropped to the sidewalk and stomped on it. When he looked up, he exhaled through his nose. "He does?"
"Yeah, usually about how he's glad you're not around." This made his heart pick up an extra beat. Peter shook the hair from his face. "Dad think's your a bad influence."
"The worst." Nodding, Ted put a thumb through a loop on his tight fitting jeans. His hair bounced in the gentle breeze, causing it to fly about his head. "If it wasn't for me, you and your sister wouldn't exist. Thankfully, I always did know how to get old stick up his ass Nathan Petrelli drunk."
A shiver ran through Peter's body at the mention of getting drunk. Stepping closer, he only hesitated a for a second. Then he closed the distance. Peter wrapped his arms around Ted's chest, squeezing him tight. The familiar smell of old cigarettes and sweat came wafting through his nose. "I've missed you."
Ted slid an arm around Peter's shoulders, squeezing him right back. When the younger man drew away, he brought up his other hand to push the hair that had fallen in to Peter's eyes. "You look like your mother."
Snorting, Peter rolled his eyes. "That's Claire, I look like Angela, everyone says so. Especially my...Nathan." When Ted continued to study his face, he grinned. "What?"
"Nothing." Crushing the teen against him once more, Ted nodded to his car. "Wanna give her a try?"
"Really?" Wide eyed, Peter pushed himself free enough that he could look the dodge over. The black paint glistened in the light from a nearby street lamp. "Oh, shit yeah!"
Ted clapped him on the shoulder. "Well, let's give it a try."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Shifting the car out of gear, Peter turned the engine off. Sighing, he ran his fingers lovingly over the wheel. When he glanced over to than Ted, he found the man's eyes tightly closed. "Hey! I'm not that bad."
"What? Are we dead yet?" Opening one eye, Ted looked about him. When he found the car had stopped, he put his hands out to steady himself. "We're back! We're alive! It's a miracle!"
"Oh, shut up!" Peter mock slugged Ted in the arm. The minute the man started laughing, he couldn't help but follow suit. "That wasn't funny."
"Yeah, it was." Ted caught the teen's next hit, dragging him over the gear shift. Crushing him under his left arm, he brought his right up in to his hair. He started to tassel Peter's hair, just to hear him shout.
Trying to get the older man to let him go, Peter twisted his head. With snarl, he closed his mouth over Ted's chest and started to bite down. A slap to the head made him break his hold. To be a snot, he pretended to spit. "Disgusting! When was the last time you washed?"
He grabbed Peter by the back of the neck. Raising his arm, Ted shoved his face in to his armpit. "How's that for disgusting? Smell good?"
Peter shoved back, pushing Ted away. Face screwed up, he wiped his nose with the back of his arm. Still, he was giggling as he did it. As he sat there, he realized how close this last round of playing had brought them. Seeing Ted's face shadowed in the street light stole his breath.
Licking his lips, Peter started to lean forward. For several heart beats, he thought the other man would stop him. Ted even seemed about to say something, but whatever it was, Peter stole away with his kiss.
Kissing Ted was unlike anyone he'd kissed before. Ted's facial hair scratched as his cheeks, catching on the sensitive flesh of his lips. Soft and moist, his mouth opened and he took control from Peter.
Moaning, Peter felt Ted's hand in his hair, while his other arm circled around his back. He wrapped his own arms around the man's shoulders, reaching out with his left to help settle himself over Ted's lap. Through the tight denim, he ground his bottom against Ted's crotch.
By now, his legs were straddling Ted's lap. His knees planted in the seat cushion to either side of the other's hips. Peter grunted when Ted thrust up against him. Pulling back from their kissing, he forced himself to take a deep breath.
His vision blurred from lack of oxygen and his chest shook with each quick breath. A thrill shot through Peter's spine as he felt large hands trace up his back. Raising his arms, he allowed Ted to push his shirt up over his head and off his body.
Went the wet heat of Ted's mouth descended upon his collar bone, latching at his chest and neck, Peter moaned louder. "Oh, god." Teeth nipped over nipple and he started to grind down against Ted's erection.
Kissing his way up Peter's neck, Ted growled against his skin. When he reached Peter's ear, he hissed. "Please, let me."
Unable to deny him, Peter nodded. The fiery touch continued to trace over his body, sliding down the back of his pants, in to his underwear. Closing his eyes, he raised his hips. Experienced fingers pushed his shorts down, taking with them his underwear.
He had several seconds to think about why this would be a bad idea while he shifted to help remove the last vestiges of his clothes. Then, Ted was inside him and he was crying out, trying really hard not to wake the rest of the block.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Walking on shaky legs, Peter carried his shirt in one hand, underwear in the other. His bare feet slapped against the paving stones between his yard and Mrs. Todd's. Selma, Ted's mother, he really should have remembered. Whisker burns on his chest and neck stung in the cool night air.
He heard the door to Ted's car shut, but couldn't bring himself to look back. It didn't matter anyways, he knew the other man got what he wanted. They'd already said their good nights, it was good. Everything was fine.
It would be fine.
His groin muscles twitched when he went to make the first step. Clutching the arm rail, he forced himself to take them slowly. Peter was almost on the porch when the front door opened. He looked up to find Claire kissing her boyfriend out the front door.
Her open blouse and Zach's hand upon her breast testament to what they had been doing. Drawing back, she nipped at his lips. Before he could capture her lips again, she saw Peter and her eyes went wide. She slapped Zach's hand away from her breast, quickly trying to hold her shirt closed. "Peter!"
"Claire." Giving the other teen a hostile look, Peter straightened up to his full height. Two inches above Zach, it might as well not have been for the way the other kid looked at him. Shouldering passed Zach on his way to the front door, Peter put more effort in to it than necessary, sending the other teen in to a potted plant.
"Peter! Zach, are you all right?" Claire rushed out of the house, her unbuttoned shirt forgotten.
Peter ignored his sister and her idiot boyfriend. The dick had no right to touch his sister like that. If she wasn't such a big slut, Claire would have seen what a douche bag he was. Unfortunately, all she could think about was getting off on riding his dick.
The parallels between their lives would never come up, ever!
Walking in to their house, Peter kicked the door shut behind him. The air conditioner was running, and the kitchen lights were on. Aside from that, there was no other sign of occupation. Which meant Simon had earned another award and 'the family' had gone out to celebrate.
Some times he really hated his family. Nathan should never have married that whore. The only reason they had gotten married was because he had knocked her up. Unlike his mother's, Heidi's family had enough clout and money to make Angela take Nathan to task.
At least Claire had Angela. The time Nathan had spent with him since Simon and Monty had been born had dwindled down to nothing. It was all a fucking joke. They could all rot in hell.
Walking by the downstairs' bathroom, he tossed his underwear and shirt in to the hamper. Let Marta worry about why there were cum stains on both. She wouldn't say anything, she never did about Claire's stained clothes either.
Not feeling like eating, Peter headed for the stairs. It would be slow going and probably feel like one of the tortures of hell. Why did Ted have to be so god damned big? The bastard hadn't taken it slow, either. Sure, he had begged for it like a good slut, but how was he to know it would hurt so damned much?
Simone was better off not dating him, that was something they both agreed on.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Peter was laying in bed, the gentle bubbling of his fountain on his desk the only noise. It was too cold to sleep bare, but it was too hot to cover up. So, he compromised with the silk sheet draped over his lower half. If he was still awake in a half hour, he would pop one of Angela's sleeping pills.
Light slid across his room as the sound of his door opening reached his ears. He didn't bother to turn over. If it was Nathan or Heidi, they would leave again once they saw he was 'asleep'. Unfortunately, the door opened enough to let someone in.
The lack of strong perfume meant it was Claire, not his grandmother. Angela liked people to remember she had been there long after she had gone.
A short time later, the bed behind him dipped. Her soft hand laid upon his shoulder. He tensed under her touch, but otherwise made no move to react. Her hand slid down over his chest as she laid down behind him, her cheek pressed to his arm.
Unable to stop himself, Peter found his vision blurring up. Raising his arm, he laid on his back so she could pillow her head on his shoulder. She was in her favorite cotton pajamas, which meant she was feeling pretty much the same way he was.
Reaching up, he used the sleeve of his own night shirt to wipe her face dry. At times like these, it felt like they were all each other had. It wouldn't last, usually fading with the dawn.
Until then, he would let her sleep on the left side of the bed.
A hour later, the door opened again. This time, it stayed open only long enough for someone to confirm they were both asleep, before closing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"You have to stop sleeping in each other's rooms. You're much to old for this kind of childish behavior." Sitting at one end of the table, her spoon of oatmeal carefully measured, Angela used it to gesture between Claire and the newly arrived Peter. Her opening salvo explained who had checked on them the night before.
Rolling his eyes, Peter plopped himself down in his usual seat. Next to Claire, opposite Simon, Monty, and Heidi. On his right, Nathan sat at the head of the table with is paper, ignoring them all. He reached out and snatched up a biscuit. Taking a bite out of it, he made exaggerated chewing motions to piss her off.
Angela narrowed her eyes, daintily placing the spoon in her mouth. Chewing the mushy contents ten times, she swallowed, then dabbed her napkin at the corners of her mouth. Setting it aside, she leaned forward a little. "Theodore Sprague is back, staying with his mother. I want both of you to keep well away from him."
At the mention of the name, the great wall of Nathan's paper finally came down. Looking over the top, he looked from Peter, then to Claire. "Do as your grandmother says." After another look, he went back to reading his paper.
Peter mimicked Nathan's look, mouthing the words back at him. When Monty across the table giggled, Peter sent him a silencing look. The last thing he needed was to get in trouble with Nathan again.
Heidi shook her head, giving both boys a reproving look.
Rolling his eyes, Peter picked up another biscuit. This one he stuffed with bits of sausage and eggs. Smothering it in syrup, he swallowed the whole thing two bites. As the large mass writhed its way down his throat, he aided its passage with the tall glass of orange juice. While he did this, he made loud noises that drew the attention of everyone at the table.
When the last of the orange juice was gone, Peter wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Angela looked about to say something, but he opened his mouth first and burped loud enough to echo in the large dining room. Peter stood up, throwing his leg over the back of the chair to leave it.
He instantly regretted the action, as it caused his over taxed groin muscles to twinge. Biting his lips, he forced himself to march out of the room. By the time he reached the front foyer, the tears in his eyes had broke. He used the doorway to hold him up as he grabbed his book bag from the chair he had deposited it in.
A second later, he heard Claire's shoes on the marble floor. That meant if he didn't leave now, Angela and Heidi would be coming next. For whatever reason, she thought it was her duty to ensure that they left well in hand. It was probably a ploy to get them out before Simon's friend Carl's mom's driver picked him and Monty up for school.
Not sticking around to give her the satisfaction, Peter threw open the front door and stumbled out on to the porch. He made it to the front columns before his wobbly legs decided to give out. Grabbing on to one, he held on tight until the muscles stopped spasming.
Claire's hand on his shoulder drew a nod from him. He would be all right, he just needed a second and probably a week to let them heal properly. Fortunately, when he looked back, he saw Claire had the mind to close the door behind her. The last thing he needed was for the harpies to find out he was in pain from fucking the forbidden neighbor.
As if summoned by his thoughts, he shrill whistle split the air.
Peter turned to glare at the source, but found Ted sitting back against the hood of his car. The keys to the dodge hung from one finger. In that one moment, Peter wanted that man so badly. The front of his pants tight, he released the column.
His shaky legs prevented him from driving, but there was no rule that said he couldn't hitch a ride. Taking the stairs slowly, he made sure both feet were on the same step before going down to the next one. Behind him, he heard Claire sigh, but he didn't really care.
Ted was already pushing off his car, taking in the way Peter was walking. Eyebrow raised, he walked around to the passenger door. He opened it up, and pushed up the front seat. "We taken two, or just one?"
"Two." Claire's voice brokered no argument.
From the tone, Peter could tell she wanted to tell him where he could stick his car. Unfortunately for her, Peter was intent on getting the ride and he wasn't getting in the backseat unless Ted was joining him. To show this, he stopped at the door beside Ted and gestured for Claire to precede him.
Giving him the evil eye, she threw her bag in the back. Claire had to duck her head before climbing in. They were definitely going to have a discussion about his later.
Sighing, Peter pushed the seat back to block her in. He didn't understand her reaction. It wasn't like Ted had ever done anything wrong to them. Just because he didn't behave like their father, didn't mean he was a bad person.
Peter grabbed the roof of the car to help ease himself in to the seat. Wincing, he finally got his bottom in to the seat. As he put his complete weight in to the leather, the smell of Ted and sex came back to him. That caused him to snicker and look up at the older man shyly.
"Watch your fingers." Smirk fully etched in place, Ted waited for Peter to remove his hand before closing the door. He walked around the front of his car to climb in the driver's side. Jumping in, he found Claire glaring at him over the seat. "What's the matter, Claire?"
"She's mad at me. You're just a secondary target." Peter couldn't turn around to glare at his sister, so, he used his bag to throw over the seat at her. When she caught it and smacked him in the back of the head, he snickered. "Would it be okay if we made a stop?"
"Sure, who you wanna pick up?" Ted put the key in the ignition. Pressing down on the clutch, he started the motor.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Peter couldn't decide which was worse. Riding in the car with his best friend, who was seriously sending death eyes to him, or riding with Claire's dead behind the eyes boyfriend. Between the three of them glaring at him from the back seat, he was surprised there wasn't a hole in the back of his head. If it kept up for much longer, he would snap!
Fortunately for all involved, the car came around another corner and the school finally came in to view. He let out a sigh of relief, feeling a mental reprieve for now. Then again, he would have to face them once they got out. The stabbing feeling started in his gut again.
Why did it always have to fuck with him?
Peter was getting sick and tired of everything in his life turning up shit. Not everything he did was wrong, no matter what everyone else said! By the time they pulled up in front of the school, Peter was almost ready to snap at the first person who said anything. As it was, he threw open the door before the car even came to a stop.
Jumping out, he reached back and released the seat to make it sit up. With that, he pointed to the school. "All right, get the hell out!"
Claire looked about to say something, then seemed to think better of it. Bag out in front of her, she climbed out of the car. She didn't wait for Zach to follow, just stormed off to the school.
Peter almost reached in to give Zach a hand, by grabbing his hair. The little fucker was seriously trying his nerves with the looks he kept giving him. If he kept it up, it would be more than a potted plant he would landed in next time.
Next, it was Simone. She had a resigned expression on her face, like she knew what was going to happen. At the door, she stopped to give him a look. She glanced at the school, then back at him.
Shaking his head, Peter waited for her to get out of the way. As she turned to watch him, he climbed back in the car. He grit his teeth against the pain in his groin area and set himself in the chair. Turning to a bored looking Ted, Peter closed the door. "Please, get me the hell out of here."
Ted put the car in to gear, pulling out in to the madness that was high school parking lot traffic. He easily navigated through slow and stupid drivers without making one remark. Slowing to a stop at the sign just before the street, he grinned. "You take after her more than you think."
He didn't have to ask to know who Ted was talking about. Peter remembered well the lectures about his mother.
It didn't matter, they could all go to hell now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As they pulled up in front of Selma's, the ball that had been hardening in his stomach burst. His gut roiled, making him feel like he was about to throw up. In front of his house, the silver mercedes was still perfectly parked. Peter knew it was bound to happen, it had been building for a long time. He guessed being only half Petrelli was the reason it took something like Ted coming back to make it happen.
Suddenly desperate for the older man, Peter reached out to grab his arm. Peter turned to him, biting his lip. "Please, promise me you'll wait this time."
"I'm not going away." Swallowing, Ted looked down at where Peter held his arm. "Karen threw me out for good."
"That's what you said last time." Peter's grip tightened. He didn't want to feel this desperate, but things had changed since his last visit. "Promise me you'll give me the chance to say good bye."
Without being able to give any other response, Ted nodded. Though, he couldn't bring himself to meet Peter's desperate gaze.
Gritting his teeth, Peter rolled his eyes away. Nodding, he looked out the window back towards his front porch.
Nathan was waiting for him, arms crossed and face blank.
Unable to stop himself, Peter jerked around in his seat. Peter reached up, cupping Ted's face between his hands. He could feel the muscles in Ted's throat as he swallowed. Closing his eyes, he leaned forward until the older man's lips were against his.
Unlike the night before, there was no fiery passion this time. It was soft, warm. Ted's facial hair scratched against his nose, but he didn't care. He could taste the older man, reveled in it.
When he eventually had to draw back, Peter kept his eyes closed. He didn't want it to end. Yet. Nothing he ever wanted came to him before, so why should this be any different? Fighting against his urge to take heavy breaths, he eventually released Ted's face.
Before he could completely withdraw, strong arms came up around his back. He found himself crushed against Ted's chest. The familiar comforting smell gave his heart pause, allowing him a moment of peace. "I love you, TeddieBear."
Kissing Peter's brow, Ted nodded in his hair. "I love you too." Eventually, he released Peter. Pulling him back since it didn't feel like the teen was ready to let him go. Wiping his cheek, he took a shuddering breath. "Looks like your dad's going to have a coronary if you don't get over there quick."
Chuckling, Peter nodded. It was the truth, and he didn't even have to see Nathan to confirm it. He released Ted reluctantly. Reaching out, he opened the door. The moment the cool morning air hit him, all the wonderful feelings he had been experiencing fled.
Left feeling barren, Peter climbed out of the car. Shouldering his bag, he swung the door shut. He held his head high as he crossed the distance between their two yards to the front porch. Peter stayed at the bottom of the steps for several heart beats, watching, waiting for Nathan to do anything.
When Nathan simply turned and headed back in the house, Peter dropped his bag. In the distance, he could hear Ted's car start, yet he couldn't bring himself to feel anything.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Two weeks later.
Head freshly shaved, Peter set his duffle on the chest level bunk. It was one of two in the six by ten cell they called a dormitory room. Prisoners had more room!
Worse yet, he had to share it.
Peter could only imagine the horror of his 'bunk mate'. He had heard stories all his life about places like this. The movie Full Metal Jacket wasn't just a horror movie, people had lived that shit.
Thank god for his grandmother, though. One talk with Angela had him a semi-private room, albeit it in the special ward. His bunk mate was either a head case, a total asskiss, or 'one of them'. Peter had his fingers crossed for the last one.
An overly lusty boy he could handle.
The other two would end up with him probably getting thrown out for attempted murder. There was no doubt, he would be the one killing the psychotic little brown noser. He didn't care how big they were, there was always a way to take someone down.
Claire had proven that time and time again. Her and her evil fucking hair brush. Oh, he would learn to defend himself from her here, then during holiday break, he would kick her fucking ass! It wasn't his fault she was being sent to a Catholic boarding school.
Shit like this didn't just happen, Nathan had to been planning this all along. At least, the boarding school part. Since Nathan had come to this same fucking military academy at the exact age due to the fact his girlfriend had herself a due date, Peter's getting in was pretty much a given. So, she could just sit on her damned hair brush.
And, oh yeah, a few of the fucking instructors from sixteen years ago were still around. They remembered his asshole of a father. That thought made him so delirious that he could just hang himself!
Peter's inner rantings were interrupted by the door to his...their room opening. Swallowing, he straightened his posture, then faced his bunk mate. Dark eyes with a too large nose were the first things Peter noticed. Then he got a better look at the teen standing in the doorway.
Well, he'd been right about two of the three, just wrong about which two.
Smirking, the teen closed the door behind him. Locking it, he licked his lips. "Hello, Peter."
The husky tone to his voice sent a shiver down Peter's spine. "Hi." He put out his hand, forcing himself to be civil.
"Name's Private First Class Gray, but you'll call me Sylar." Advancing upon Peter, he ignored the offered hand. He grabbed the other teen by the shoulders, shoving him down on the bottom bunk. "You'll sleep there."
Peter considered resisting. Then he realized it would be better if he just went along with it for now. His duffle was knocked off the top bunk, then kicked over to the foot lockers at the end of the beds.
Sylar came to a stop in front of the sitting Peter. Staring down his nose at the other teen, he seemed to growl in the back of his throat. "If you do as I say, you'll survive this pit until graduation. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir." He knew this game. It was one the dicks back at his old school had tried on him. There was one big difference between Sylar and the assholes back home. This school had an actual chain of command.
Stepping in close, Sylar kicked Peter's legs apart. He grabbed Peter's shirt by the collar, forcing him flush against his body. With his other hand, he tilted Peter's head back, fingers running through the dark fuzz that used to be his hair. "Welcome to my world."
Staring up at the other teen's face, Peter could swear his eyes turned black for a second. The hungry expression upon Sylar's face put to death any confidence he had about being able to protect himself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The classroom was silent but for the sound of pencils filling out papers. That, and the one boy squirming in his chair. Every couple of minutes, Peter had to shift position in his chair. No matter how much he eased the flaring pain in his ass, he couldn't get completely comfortable.
Of the fifteen teens in his class, Peter was the oldest. Having arrived at the Academy two years late in consideration to their curriculum, he would always be behind. And thinking of that word sent his ass to twinging again.
He had only been at the academy for a week, Sylar had done everything short of pissing on him to mark his territory. The other boys of his age group refused to acknowledge him, either because of Sylar, or because of the stigma attached to him because of his dormitory assignment. But that was okay, everything was fucking peachy.
The door opened at the head of the class, but Peter and the other teens kept their noses in their work. He had learned quickly not to lollygag around, as the instructors like to put it. His arms still ached when he raised them above chest level.
It wasn't until another teen stopped in front of his desk that Peter looked up. Raising an eyebrow, he looked in askance to him.
The teen handed him a slip of paper, then walked away. Apparently social skills weren't something taught in the academy.
Peter quickly read the slip. Then, he looked over to the instructor. At the man's nod, Peter stuck his assignment in his book and closed it up. He rose from his desk, then stood at attention. Saluting the instructor, he waited until the man returned it before hurrying from the room.
The trip to the head office was quick and silent. He had only been there once, but he remembered it well. That had been the last time he saw Nathan or any of his family. The public use phone was in a small alcove to the side. It's receiver was off the hook, meaning someone was waiting on the line.
Peter only hesitated a second before picking up the phone. Clearing his throat, he put his mouth to the receiver. "Hello."
"What do you know about Claire's pregnancy?" Nathan, of course.
In a pique of spite, Peter almost hung up on him. Almost being the operative word. He had learned over the past week not to do anything in haste. There was no doubt in his mind Nathan would call the Colonel and report him. So, instead, he decided to be polite, unlike his father. "How are you, sir?"
"Cut the shit, Peter. Do you know who the father is, or not?" Apparently his Nathan was too pissed to care if someone might be listening on the line.
Which Peter was almost certain was happening.
"I do not, sir." Best to stick with the current game plan until a better opening came along.
"Fine. But if you find out, I want to know immediately." Then the line went dead.
The abruptness of it should not have been so damned shocking. Over the past several years, Nathan had never... Straightening his posture, Peter gently set the phone down.
Coming about face, he found the Colonel's secretary watching him. Nodding to the man, Peter turned to head back to class. On autopilot, he didn't notice that he was heading in the wrong direction. All he saw were blank olive drab walls.
By the time he reached the door, he found that it was already ajar. He thought to ask the teacher what was going on until he noticed Sylar sitting on his bunk. The other teen was watching him.
"Shut the door." Sylar's voice brokered no refusal.
So, Peter shut the door. What did it matter? Denying him would only get him in more trouble. When Sylar pat the bed beside him, Peter moved quickly to join him. Sitting down, he started wonder why he was still feeling the shock.
Once Peter was beside him, Sylar pushed him, guiding him back until he was laid out on the bunk. The older teen stretched out beside him, turning Peter until he was facing the wall. Hand sliding up Peter's body, Sylar molded himself against Peter's back. He pressed a small kiss at the base of Peter's skull. "I'm your family now."
Peter knew it, the phone was bugged! So why was he crying about it?
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"My twin sister is pregnant." Peter wasn't quite sure it was Sylar he chose to confide in. The boy had done nothing except use him since he had arrived. It was probably the shock of it all, a form of trauma induced psychosis.
"You have a twin?" Of course, that would be the part that would interest Sylar. He ground his erection against the other teen's bottom. "What's she look like?"
As if Peter had forgotten that they were bed together, naked. There was no chance in that. Sylar was surprisingly hairy for a guy only a year older than himself. Unable to stop himself, Peter shivered. It must have been a thing he had.
Sylar took that time to run his tongue up the outside of Peter's ear. "Tell me about your twin."
"You can't have her." The pinch on his hip caused him to kick out. He moaned from the pain, but otherwise kept his reaction to himself. There was no giving the bastard any more fodder.
When it became clear that was all Sylar was going to get, he changed tactics. He pushed Peter on to his back. "Why did she allow it to happen?"
"She is being sent home." The heaviness around his heart was back. Peter wasn't certain he would survive if he allowed himself to indulge the feeling, so he pushed it away. He shifted on the bed until he was able to hook a leg around Sylar's waist. "Apparently, while the Catholics frown upon teen pregnancy, they utterly detest abortions. She's being sent back home like the filthy little slut she is."
"At least that's something you both have in common." Lowering himself between Peter's legs, Sylar growled in to his neck. "However, if you get knocked up here, I don't think the instructors will excuse you from calisthenics."
Cackling, Peter wrapped his arms around Sylar's neck.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"It's horrible. I'm sick all the time." Sitting across the picnic table, Claire pushed her hair from her eyes. The wind was blowing steadily, indicated a storm was moving in soon. "But it's worth it. You have no idea how horrible that school was."
Snorting, Peter could have said so many things to that. Instead, he kept his face perfectly controlled and his comments to himself. "How is the family taking it?"
"Dad's been perched on the roof so many times the neighbors think we have a gargoyle." Claire had understood what he meant. The rest of the family could go hang, it was the old man that either of them ever really cared about. "Heidi's been about the only one who's been human about the whole thing. She didn't want either of us sent away, apparently that was Dad's decision."
"It was his right." Peter enjoyed the shocked expression on her face. The slight smirk and tightening around his conveyed his sarcasm.
That put Claire at ease. "For a moment there, I thought they had converted you. Swear to god, those Catholic girls made me look like a saint." Her cheeks colored over her language. "Another week with those whores and if the little test hadn't come back positive, grandmother would have come and got me. As it is, she says my language skills may never recover."
Over that one, Peter did let his mask slip. Chuckling, he let himself slouch a little. It felt good being able to talk with her again, even if she was an evil bitch. "I don't think I'm ever getting out of here."
A pained expression crossed Claire's face. "I know." For several minutes more, they sat there in silence. Then, she forced a cheerful smile on her face. "TeddieBear's here, he's the one who brought me." And just like that, her smile was no longer fake.
The twinge he had expected to feel over the revelation wasn't there. Peter had thought the older man left, since he hadn't seen him in the two weeks leading up to his current situation. "How is he?"
"He's good, real good." Her voice carried a kind of dreamy tone.
Peter knew that tone. Upon a time, it could have been his. "He the father?"
This knocked Claire out of her fuzzy feelings. Coughing to cover up her sudden change, she frowned at him. When that failed to phase him, she sighed. "I don't suppose I can ask you to keep this quiet?"
"You going to keep it?" Whatever it was, he hoped TeddieBear didn't leave that kid behind. Peter loved him, he always had, but he had the back bone of a match stick when it came to Nathan.
Claire had to think on this a second. When she looked at Peter, she didn't look any more sure, though. "It's a big decision. I've got some time to think about it."
"Don't wait too long." But his words fell on deaf ears. Peter knew she would wait, just so she didn't have to make the decision. It had always been like that, which is why they fought so often. Standing up, he leaned across the table to pick up her hand. He kissed the back of it. "I hope you two make it, ClaireBear."
"Me too." She continued to watch him, a kind of sad look in her eyes.
"At least he's not Zach." Laughing, Peter stepped back before she could do something about it. In the wind, he picked up a familiar musky smell. He didn't have to turn to know that Ted was coming towards him.
Before the older man could reach him, though, a darker specter presented itself. Stopping to the side of Peter, Sylar almost seemed to appear out of thin air. He not so subtly placed himself between Peter and anyone else nearby.
The look he gave Claire sent a chill down Peter's back. There was no way in hell he was letting that happen. Clearing his throat, he drew Sylar's attention. He slowly licked his lips, growling low in the back of his throat.
This had the desired effect of drawing the older teen's attention to him. Sylar shifted his stance to allow himself more room in the front of his pants. He addressed Claire without so much as looking at her. "You must be Cadet Petrelli's friend Simone. According to the sign-in log, you've been here almost two hours. I'm afraid that I have to tell you that your time is up."
"Peter?" Claire looked to Peter in shock, but found him nodding. She seemed to deflate over that.
"If it has been that long, then what he said's true." Stretching his neck, Peter knew Sylar was trailing his eyes along the length. Knowing he had the teen hooked, Peter broke off to look at his sister once more. "I have to go. Take care of yourself, I love you."
"Peter." She sounded so lost.
For a heart beat, Peter almost reached out to her. Then he steeled his resolve. Nodding to Sylar, he waited for him to take the lead.
Smirking, Sylar returned the nod. Arms folded behind his back, he strolled from the table. His course would take them directly to their dormitory.
Peter knew exactly what Sylar had planned. In fact, he found himself almost welcoming it. Almost, because no matter how much he grew to like it, he would never like Sylar. Following along, he passed Ted, but didn't even acknowledge him.
In their uniforms, he, Sylar, and the other cadets stood out in the visitor's yard. Strange enough, Peter didn't feel like they were the ones that didn't belong. Whatever that meant, he didn't have time to ponder it now. Sylar had a certain hitch in his walk that meant Peter was going to be walking funny later.
He could live with that.
THE END................................