rattish (rattish) wrote in fourteenshades, @ 2014-08-12 10:22:00 |
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Entry tags: | x-peter pettigrew, x-terry boot |
Who: Terry and Peter
When: Monday Night
Where: The pub
What: Terry is in need of a drink or several and Peter is in need of a reality check...
Rating MA15 for adult themes (!)
Satus: Completed in GDocs
Peter watched Terry down his third drink with slightly raised eyebrows. He was oddly reminded of Sirius whenever he got bad news and decided to temporarily fix the problem with copious amounts of liquor. Of course Sirius never needed much of an excuse to get utterly sloshed.
“Bit of a stressful couple weeks, huh,” he said, turning his own glass over in his good hand while he watched his new friend with a mixture of concern and amusement.
---
Terry had a mouth full of beer when he turned to look at Peter- his cheeks were rounded out with it, and it hurt to gulp it all down, but he did it so that he could speak to Peter who was the most neutral and easiest friend he currently had in town. He’d gotten a baby sitter that night for Rosemary, and had been blunt that he was going to a pub, and that he would back to Dad-mode in the morning. But that evening, he was ready to make some mistakes.
He didn’t hate Rosemary. He thought he’d resent her, or be scared of breaking her. But she’d become about 90% of his life, and was creeping up on that last 10% pretty quickly. He didn’t hate her. He sort of loved her, actually. She was smart, and peppy, and she loved him so easily that it was… it was nice. But it was also hard, it was so hard because he didn’t know how to do her hair. Or the song she said he sang her. Or how to make her food the way she liked.
“Just a little,” he said, laughing. “I won’t bore you, my life is… peanut butter and pony toys and playing dinosaurs and work. What about yours?”
---
Peter grinned sympathetically. “Pretty much the same, to be honest,” he admitted. “No revelations of future offspring or anything like that.” Except for Sirius being back in town. He risked a quick glance over his shoulder before shaking off that thought. He might have put on a brave face to Remus, but it was one thing to say he didn’t want to hide away from his former friend, and another to just saunter around the place as though there wasn’t an incredibly gifted and incredibly angry wizard out for his blood, living in the near proximity.
He’d been glad to get out of that house, though. With five women in there, including Lestrange of all people, it had been getting very close. It was good to be fully clothed again too, and not just because he was able to cover up the Dark Mark. He didn’t know how he was ever going to explain that to Terry if it came up… and he was sure it would, eventually. People here knew him, after all. Just because Terry didn’t, didn’t make him totally anonymous. He knew he should broach the subject, but… well. He liked Terry. It was comforting to have someone around with whom every word didn’t have to be cautiously censored, with whom he could just be himself without worrying that every frown was a silent judgement on his past choices.
“Mostly I’ve been sorting out the shop.” And absolutely not hiding in the back room whenever possible. Nope. “Compared to that I don’t know if I would mind - er, what are dino-saurs?” he asked, repeating the unfamiliar word.
----
“Dinosaurs? You must be a pureblood. Uh. Giant lizards who used to roam the earth. Like dragons only before mankind had evolved,” he said, amazed that they weren’t something that Peter had heard of before. “We, uh. We make a little trees out of paper towel and toilet paper rolls and then pretend to be dinosaurs stomping them. It’s actually fun,” he said, taking a much slower sip of beer this time around.
Terry did not know that this Peter was Pettigrew. That he should hate him, be disgusted by him, and make him angry to be around. Because Terry had watched an entire family he loved die because of Voldemort’s return, and because of DE’s. But he didn’t, right then Peter was just a really nice bloke who was out for adult fun right then.
“Is it still a mess from the week of captivity then? The movie theater was fine, mostly. I had to clean out my kitchen, but that was it.”
---
“A few things went off,” Peter said absent-mindedly, still trying to imagine the dragon things Terry was talking about. He’d never heard of dinosaurs, but then, pre-evolutionary biology wasn’t exactly on the curriculum at Hogwarts. “I put cooling charms on all the critical areas in case it happens again. Well, I had Theo do it,” he added truthfully with a bit of a sigh. “My magic is still a bit… temperamental.” This was understating the case - since coming out of the cabins, he’d barely been able to manage the basic warding spell he used on his journal when he needed to keep something private. He’d been keeping his thoughts in his head, mostly, in case he tried a ward and it failed.
---
“Temperamental?” he asked, curious. Less about the idea of Peter being lacking in magic, but at the idea that magic could do that for a wizard. “Is it the town? I mean, if the town goes nuts magically, does it affect us?” he asked, his brain already searching for possible reasons. He was a Ravenclaw, he could hardly help it as he leaned in a little.
---
“No,” Peter said slowly. “No… I don’t think it’s the village… it’s not happening to anyone else, as far as I can tell. I mean there was a week or two when we all lost our magic, but it came back.” He sighed again and bit his lip for a moment, wondering what was the best way to explain. If he even could explain it. Even Dumbledore didn’t have any answers - what hope did he have?
“It’s been a lot worse, lately,” he said, low. “Since the… I mean, since, my hand.” He shifted awkwardly, putting down his glass to rub at the stump anxiously under the table. “I think that’s part of it. It’s not my wand hand, but… anyway it started before that. It might be my wand, too. I’m... a lot different since I got it. Since school, even. More different than…” he hesitated. “I mean more than it might be able to adjust for, I guess? So it could be that, or a combination, or something else altogether. And it just gets worse. It’s awful. I mean what kind of wizard can’t even do some basic first year spells?”
He glared at his drink for a moment before lifting it and tipping it all back. Why the hell not. “Sorry,” he breathed once he had swallowed it all. “Didn’t mean to get all… un-burdeny, on you.”
---
He seemed so nervous. He looked almost scared, and Terry felt bad for asking now as Peter struggled to explain. Terry wished he could hug the guy, but that was awfully familiar and not really a thing dudes did when you were just meeting someone. He nodded ‘no’ at Peter, putting his beer down. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve been freaking out all week. And in comparison? Your issues are worth a lot more brain time then me freaking out that my ex-boyfriend is the father is my daughter and my future husband. Also, you can actually help yours here, mine is something in another reality,” Terry said, not even thinking to be vague about the gender of his ex.
“I don’t know a lot about the manifestation of magic within a witch or wizard, not beyond a few theories about muggleborns that I’ve read. I was curious when I first got my letter, but I was too young to understand it,” he said, racking his brain. “I mean, this… this sounds silly. But I know that when I was… back home. I got really depressed. In a dark place, depressed. And I had a little trouble with magic, I couldn’t do basic charms for a day or two.”
---
For a moment Peter was confused enough that he almost didn’t hear what Terry said. Husband? Certain things that had been said up to now slid into place with an internal sound like when the Whomping Willow impacted with flesh.
He shook his head for a moment until he had caught up with the situation. “I’m not -” he said, his head a little fuzzy with surprise and alcohol. He was about to say I’m not depressed, but how would he know? Enough depressing things had bloody well happened over the last year. “If it was that,” he said finally, looking up at Terry with new, interested if slightly scandalised eyes, “It should be getting better. I’ve been happier here, recently, than…” he shrugged. “Never mind. Can we go back to - you - your husband? I’m sorry, it’s just I didn’t realise…” he flushed, wishing that his glass was full so he could hide his face in it.
---
Oh Jesus. Terry felt a pang in his belly, wondering if Peter was a homophobe and he’d just stepped in a pile of holier-than-thou bullshit. He decided to give Peter the benefit of doubt, and so he took a slow sip of his drink and then looked back to Peter. “According to Rosemary, the men who are her fathers are myself and my ex-boyfriend from my world. I broke up with him a long time ago. I was actually a dick about it too, but that’s another matter. I guess we must get back together in the world. It’s not a bad thing, he was… is… a good man,” he said, sighing.
“I’m a selfish asshole, because every time I think about marrying him, all I can think about is that we did this before, you know? We dated. And I mean, it was serious, I was seriously madly in love with the guy. But then I got into that depression and I left him. So I’m not sure why the hell he would come back, you know?” he said. “Maybe I’m better in bed than I thought right?” It was meant as a joke. And yes, a gage for how skittish Peter was.
---
Peter stared wide-eyed for what felt like several minutes, although it surely couldn’t have been that long.
Warring feelings sparked in his brain. He felt like he ought to be against it. His mother most certainly would have been. Sinful homosexuals were one of her favourite topics of condemnation - though she tended to use less politically correct words. But then she also condemned public displays of affection even in heterosexual relationships - kissing, holding hands… with Peter it had always been impure thoughts. “Don’t look like that!” he could hear her saying even now. “You are having impure thoughts!” By the time he was twelve he was sure that all his thoughts must be impure thoughts.
But Terry did not seem wrong in any way. He might be impure, but fuck if Peter hadn’t let that ship sail a long time ago. There was nothing more impure than Dark Magic, no matter what the radical pure blood contingent liked to think... If only he’d realised that at the time. Only the thought of a man in bed with another man - even a man touching another man, like that… it brought up some very uncomfortable feelings. And memories. Memories of shared bathrooms and hidden glances, of terrible but somehow intoxicating dreams, of strange fantasies and awkward mornings. He could feel himself getting very warm all over under the jacket, and sweat building in his remaining palm.
He had trained himself not to think about it. There had been no conscious decision, only a strict denial of the existence of any thought. Only it was hard not to think about it when someone was sitting in front of him, quite casually discussing his relationship with another man as though it were nothing out of the ordinary. A relationship that had culminated in marriage and a child, just like any other normal relationship.
“....better in bed than I thought, right?” Terry finished, and Peter held back a shudder. The words conjured up some very … some images, that…
“And I thought my life was complicated,” he managed, croaking a little. “B-be right back - more drinks.”
He fled to the bar, although he probably could have flagged someone down, and ordered a couple more beers. He didn’t even notice the sharp look the barman gave him. He was used to that sort of look from people he didn’t know.
What is wrong with me?
He made his way back to the table, forcing deep breaths and a calm mind. Be normal, he told himself. Be a friend. You can’t have forgotten how to do that. It’s not about you.
He put the drinks down in front of Terry. There was a bit of an awkward silence. Peter wondered if he hadn’t been quite as subtle as he thought. “What’s that like?” he asked after a moment. He didn’t know where the words came from, they just sort of… sprang out of some deep unconscious yearning. “...being... in love?”
----
Terry felt guilty. He’d just mucked out his friend’s night by shoving a rainbow flag under Peter’s nose, and now Peter looked more uncomfortable than disgusted, and Terry totally got being uncomfortable with new things. He sunk a little into his seat as Peter went to get more beer, killing the last of his current drink and thinking that he’d pay for the last drinks and then offer Peter an easy out by claiming he wanted to check on the babysitter.
It had taken Terry years to be public about being gay, or comfortable. In school he’d only ever told Anthony, who had been his brother in every way by blood. He’d literally lived with Ant and his family from 3rd year onwards. And then, at 25, getting drunk and standing on a bar and announcing it to all his friends at once to get it over. After that, he’d been publically open to everyone without any shame or reticence about it. And now here was Peter who was nice. Terry was starting to wallow a bit until Peter sat and asked that question.
That question was interesting. It was not the question someone who hated man loving men asked a gay man. He watched Peter for a long moment, but he answered it eventually, a little smile on his cheeks.
“It’s not the same for everyone. But for me, with my ex… it came in stages. I knew I loved him the way you love your boyfriend when I couldn’t think about anyone else, and it wasn’t just thinking about the sex. Then I couldn’t think about my future without adding him into it. But love… that sort of love that devours you and then spits you back up and you’re bruised but if you’re lucky you got spat up with someone… that’s amazing. It feels like. It feels like you belong everywhere. It feels like you understand absolutely nothing about your life and life in general, as usual, but for the first time that is okay because you understand one thing. That you love that person. And no matter how much that hurts and sucks and is wonderful and good, you can hold onto that knowledge.”
“But with him and I, I think I really knew just how much you could love a man when I realized I was going to drag him into my misery. And it sucked, knowing that I would hurt him by being with him still and I would hurt him by leaving. So I picked the hurt he could hate me quicker for and get over it. I think that’s when I finally acted on that love.”
---
Peter hunched in on himself a little as he listened. That kind of connection with someone else just seemed impossible. At least, impossible that it could ever happen for him.
For some reason, James’ face attempted to swim in front of his inner eye. No. He clenched his fist hard. But the more Terry talked the more he felt something out of his control was happening, as though some inner wall was becoming shakier with every word.
“But now you know… I mean, you’ll get back together,” he said. “So it can’t have hurt h-him that much.” He just about managed the pronoun. “Maybe he figured out why you were doing it. Sometimes we do things… we think we’re doing them for one reason, but really it’s another reason altogether. And if people really knew - if they cared, or they really knew, you know… they would figure it out.” He grimaced and took another swig of his drink. “I dunno what I’m talking about.”
Except he did. If only, if only someone had seen, someone had loved him or even cared enough to have seen what was happening, when he turned up drunk to Order meetings, when the Dark Magic started taking over, when there was so little of the old Peter left that his wand would almost only do Dark Magic and nothing else, if someone had seen... no. He couldn’t blame them. He mustn’t blame them. It had all been his fault and no one else’s.
Except that he had understood nothing about his life, like Terry said. And it hadn’t been okay because the people he cared about had not noticed, and there had been no one to love or to love him back, because he didn’t even understand what love was or how to find it. It wasn’t an excuse. But somehow the words brought it all back like a heavy sack to the head, and for the first time in months he started to really feel the urge to go out and blast something. Shit.
---
“Back in that world. He might never come here, I might be here for years. I don’t plan on running my life based on the future, I can’t do that. I’ll raise Rosemary, that is my duty and… I like her. She’s a sweet kid,” Terry said softly, a gentle realization rolling over Terry. Perhaps Peter was in love, perhaps he couldn’t admit it. Or maybe… maybe he was gay. Terry left his beer alone, trying to decide what to do. He ended up quoting his mother- or rather a quote that his mother had liked to quote a lot when trying to explain why the apartment was a mess and why Terry was hungry as a child.
“A woman happily in love, she burns the soufflé. A woman unhappily in love, she forgets to turn on the oven,” he said. “That’s from a muggle flick- Sabrina. But maybe it applies here,” he said, wondering if maybe Peter was so in love with someone that he couldn’t do magic because he wasn’t admitting it. “You got a girl you’re sweet on, Peter?” he asked, his Liverpool accent a little thicker with the beer that night. “Someone who could help you figure something out?”
---
Peter flinched and shook his head. “No, never,” he said, low. Somehow the thought of a girl in his life… just wasn’t right. He thought of James and Lily and shuddered. Seeing them together had always made him want to drown himself. He knew that was wrong. You were supposed to be happy for couples in love. For friends in love. For friends getting married.
He thought of Mac, even of Lea. No. They were his friends - at least, Lea had been, he still hadn’t addressed that particular problem even though she’d asked him too, he was a terrible friend, really, why was Terry even talking to him? - but he didn’t fancy them, not in the way James and Sirius always used to talk about girls, from the colour or the texture of their hair to the shapeliness of their… various attributes. Peter was well trained in the art of giggling and nodding and agreeing, but he never really saw those things for himself.
He saw other things. The way James’ shoulders shifted under his shirt when he was tired. The way he moved differently in Quidditch robes. The way Albus’ eyes brightened when Peter managed even an easy spell. The curve of Gellert Grindelwald’s upper lip. Of all things!
He looked back up at Terry, meeting his eyes for the first time in a while, and caught the older man giving him an appraising look. “What?” he asked.
---
“I don’t want to offend you, Peter,” he said, softly. Both to stop from Peter feeling like he was being questioned harshly or with malice, and because he didn’t want people to overhear. He leaned over a little, his blue eyes keeping track of Peter’s as he thought about wording. “Peter, are you attracted to men? The way I am, or maybe attracted to both women and men?” he asked. It was hard, the idea of outing someone. He didn’t want to out anyone, he would have been very much set back if anyone had done that to him. Then again, he wasn’t telling Peter he was gay… he was just asking. “You don’t have to answer that question, Peter. But that question, even if the answer is no? Is a hard one to ask yourself and it’s hard to deal with. Because it’s… you not knowing yourself. And that’s hard. Know thyself. All that crap,” Terry said, rubbing his chin and breaking eye contact for a moment.
If Peter had been openly gay and in Terry’s time, he was pretty sure Peter would have been popular. Plenty of nice middle aged men would have sniffed after Peter, and plenty of man Peter’s own age wanted nice and sweet boys to take home to mom.
---
Peter stared, his mind suddenly a terrifying blank. Words would not form, not even coherent thought. By now, deep down, perhaps he had been expecting the question, but that didn't stop it shocking him to the core and sticking him to the spot. He thought, for as much as he could think, that if he had been sober he might have got up and run from it, run from the words that rang in his ears and called to him, whispering that this was who he was and this was what he had been missing his whole life. Was it?
In his head his mother was screeching at him from beyond the void, railing against every thought. How could there be anything more wrong with him? He could feel himself shrivelling up inside.
He let go his clenched fist and stared at his palm, unmarked. Then he lay his other arm on the table beside it, and stared at what should have been there.
"I..." He began. "I don't...."
He swallowed. "Who the hell am I?" He whispered to himself, low, hoarse and desperate.
--
It was impossible not to feel bad. Peter looked like a kicked puppy, lost and a little confused. Terry stood up, and tossed a bundle of bills onto the table and helped Peter out, telling him that they were going to get some fresh air. In reality, Terry didn’t want the other man to have a bad moment in a public place: it would be easier to have Peter at his home, or maybe just outside in the cool air to get his head together. Once at the stoop of the bar, Terry led Peter a little off the path, by some trees.
“Take some deep breaths. You don’t have to know who you are right now. But you can ask. It’s good to ask, it can be really good to ask, Peter. But you have to breathe,” he told the other man, rubbing his back in a way that he assumed was soothing, but felt awkward doing. Damn, maybe he shouldn’t have brought his ex up at all. Maybe he should have left Peter the hell alone, taken Mike out on the outing instead.
“Do you want to sit down? Maybe some water?”
---
Peter forced himself to take deep, calming breaths, as though he were meditating, preparing to transform. As usual the thought of Wormtail made him calmer. He wished he could change right now, to be Wormtail even for a minute, but preferably forever so he wouldn't have to deal with this...
But Terry was being kind to him, and real unadulterated kindness with no threat or guarded words. He didn't want these thoughts, but he didn't want to move away from Terry touching his back and telling him it was okay.
"I'm... I think I'm all right," he managed already. "Too much to drink, probably. I'm sorry..." He swallowed and took another breath. "You don't have to stay," he said reluctantly, his dulled instincts protesting. "Don't want to ruin your night.."
----
Okay, no one reacted this way to the possibility of being gay unless they were actually questioning it or actually aware that they were gay. Terry looked down at him, and then closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. “I think I can help a little,” he said, putting his hands on Peter’s shoulders as he stood before him now and tried to think about the best method. A kiss to the cheek was too parental, and something that was just a peck was just a pity move.
He also didn’t want to go so quickly that Peter couldn’t pull away. He wanted Peter to know what was about to happen, and to choose whether or not to allow it to happen. Terry put one hand on Peter’s chin to help the man look up a little, making eye contact again for a moment before leaning in slowly and tilting his head so that if Peter didn’t stop him, and didn’t pull away, they would be kissing.
Not a peck, not just something that easy to play off. He wanted Peter to be kissed properly by a man, and apparently Terry was the one who was going to do it. It would be soft, easy, and if Peter wanted to turn it into something more… so be it.
---
Peter's heart started bearing rodent-fast the second he met Terry's eyes, the one thing about himself that since his first transformation he wasn't sure could be entirely human, but this was different; Peter knew real fear, real terror, and this was something else entirely. The realisation that, oh, this was happening, and some part of him that had been lying dormant for ten years wanted it to happen....
He didn't move, or protest, or pull away. It happened.
It was not what he imagined, because he had never imagined this at a level of consciousness he could comprehend, and any dreams were all so full of disgust and fear and self-loathing that they were unrecognisable. He might have thought it would be rough, or harsh, but it was not, it was soft and tender and close. He could feel his legs shaking, but for a moment, for a moment the world was silence, the pub, the street, the whole village, even the voices in his head that never ever stopped. Silence. Peace. This is who you are, Peter Pettigrew.
Then something inside him hummed. Later, he found it utterly impossible to describe.
Shocked almost back into sobriety, he drew up his good hand and shoved hard, pushing Terry away. He stood there frozen for a moment with his hand half raised in front of him, breathing in short and loud gasps as something hot and tingling and almost painful ran through him. "What -" he gasped, staring at Terry. "You - what did you do ?"
--
Terry wasn’t sure what had just happened, but the noises that Peter was making reminded him of something that would have normally happened in bed, which was weird and maybe not all that bad right then. Terry allowed Peter to push him away, he allowed the other man to react and he watched him keenly and didn’t reach out to touch him. No; if they touched or kissed again, it would be by Peter’s choice.
“I kissed you, and I think you rather enjoyed it. I did, I enjoyed kissing you. I wasn’t expecting it, but you’re a good kisser,” he said. It wasn’t a lie; in the moment that Peter had been at peace and not totally freaked out by the situation at hand, it had been nice. Peter smelled nice, he felt nice. Terry wouldn’t have been against kissing him again, or actually just snogging like teens. He hadn’t actually just made out with someone in a while; one night stands usually meant a lot of quick sex rather than careful kissing.
“I won’t do it again, unless you want me to. But did that answer anything for you?” he asked.
--
Peter was sure this feeling wasn't normal. He had never kissed anyone before, not even a girl, but he was sure it didn't normally end in nearly hyperventilating. The feeling faded away however almost as soon as it had come, and he was left standing there stupidly like a deer in headlights.
He didn't believe what Terry said about being a good kisser. How could he be? All he knew, with a growing realisation that burned everything awful and negative in its wake as it grew, was that this was what he had been missing and he wanted more. Needed more.
He looked up at Terry feeling as though a giant weight had been lifted. He thought vaguely that it would probably come back when the alcohol wore off, but for now... "Do it again," he said, low, anxiousness fading to a kind of would-be-calm certainty. He licked his lips. "Please?"
---
Terry felt like one of those guys on the cover of Romance novels- the older guy who was with some innocent young thing. But Peter was an adult, and he was struggling, and apparently being kissed was helping him. He put a hand on Peter’s waist and pressed him against the tree, Terry’s other hand going up against the bark next to Peter’s head. He bent down and kissed Peter again, this time going a little more quickly and deeply. It felt nice, and didn’t expect Peter to whip out some amazing french kissing right then.
All Terry expected was for Peter to be honest if he wanted to be kissed or not. And right then, it seemed like Peter was being very honest. Terry pulled back from the kiss after a moment, taking a deep breath so he could go back in as his nose bumped Peter’s lightly. “It’s okay to touch me, Peter,” he said, before going back to kissing him.
Terry had never been with someone unexperienced before. It had never interested him to pop someone’s cherry, to to be someone’s gay mentor. But he’d never met someone who was earnest and in need the way Peter was. And honestly, Terry was pretty sure that the best solution was to finish kissing and then find Peter a younger guy his own speed… Terry hadn’t slept in the same bed in almost a year.
---
Peter hadn't even realised that he was standing stock still against the tree, arms frozen at his side as he got utterly lost in the feeling of Terry's mouth on his. It felt so good not to have to think, to let someone else take over. He had always been a follower, he needed people to show him what to do. That had got him into a lot of trouble before, but this was different. As he shakily lifted his good hand to Terry's chest and curled his fingers into the fabric of his shirt, he felt the new sensation of being with someone else; not just following but moving together, moving as one. The feeling made him a little bolder, and he pushed back, just a little, just enough to feel a new kind of pressure as Terry took Peters bottom lip between his.
---
It was easy to fall into the rhythm of kissing Peter. They would find a comfortable level to stay at, a pressure and a movement the worked for them, and then Terry would slowly raise the bar and see if Peter was able to handle the new level. And when he was, Terry kept going. But nothing had him ready for when Peter pushed back and touched him, which made Terry’s lips curl into a smile against Peter’s own. Bolder and feeling sure that Peter did want this, he began to pull Peter a little closer, head turning to change their angle so that he could explore a little more.
Air was going to be an issue, but Terry would deal with that later. If anything, he assumed Peter would need to decide that speed. Terry in the meanwhile began to tease Peter’s lower lip as the hand that had been resting on the tree moved and cupped Peter’s check, the thumb moving along the cheek bone.
---
Peter didn’t understand how something could be so right and real and yet just as blood-thumpingly, terrifyingly exhilarating as running the Forbidden Forest on a full moon. He let out a little whimper as he felt Terry’s hand on his face; his skin tingled where he touched. His body was thrumming; he didn’t know if it was the touch, or the alcohol, or that third unnamable and strange feeling that he was sure would come up later but for right now was enough to have it in the background of all the new and strange sensations.
He had to breathe, the adrenaline and the speed of his heartbeat was making that increasingly necessary, but he didn’t want to stop. The heat of Terry’s mouth and the roughness of the tree’s bark against his back, the hand on his waist… none of it.
---
The temptation to take this up a few more levels was high for Terry. This was usually the part in the make out session when things went from PG-13 right on to NC-17 with no stops because why bother with a stop when you could have sex and fun? But he had a good feeling that if he were to go that far he’d spook Peter forever, and he didn’t want to do that. So instead he pulled a little at Peter’s shirt, sliding his hand up from Peter’s waist and up Peter’s shirt from the back so that his hand splayed on the lower back as they kept going.
The feelings that Peter were having from that third unknowable thing was chemistry to Terry. He didn’t understand it or feel it, but his gut said that this was important, and stopping was going to be a huge waste of everyone’s time. And honestly, he liked kissing Peter. He loved it, actually, and he wanted to keep doing it. But he did need to step back for a moment, pulling his head back ever so much.
“So. That wasn’t too bad, was it now?” he asked, chuckling a little as he looked down at Peter. “We could keep going if you want, but I don’t know if you’d want to be here next to a tree.”
---
Peter caught his breath while staring up at Terry with wide eyes. “Bloody hell,” he managed eventually. “I - I never - that -” he shook his head, speechless. It was a very warm night; maybe that accounted for some of the heat that seemed to be radiating off him. “I don’t mind the tree,” he said finally, a nervous sort of smile creeping onto his face. “What do you suggest?”
---
Peter was either really drunk or really happy. Maybe both, Terry decided that both was good and he could live with that. With another kiss, a shorter one this time that only took a few seconds, he pulled back totally from Peter, taking the hand on his chest in his own and pulling him back.
“I’m going to make an assumption. I think this is your first time having kissed a man. Which means that I don’t have too much to suggest because I don’t want to give you too much to juggle right now. But I do think we would benefit from a couch or a bed or really anything private and comfortable,” Terry said, thinking that his own bedroom was empty, since Rosemary was off with the sitter at their house that night. But if Peter wanted to take Terry to his house, he wouldn’t say no to that. It was about Peter’s comfort after all.
“Couches and beds are a lot of fun. They let men like us snog a little… closer,” he said, not sure if he wanted to just lay out the whole ‘so I’d like to take my shirt off and then your shirt off and touch all that before showing you how much fun it is to be on top and be on the bottom, even if it’s only via kissing this time’.
---
Peter decided not to be ofended by the assumption. It was a hundred percent true after all. And probably extremely obvious.
His heart beat if it was possible, even faster, and certain areas of his anatomy began to shift uncomfortably at Terry’s words. Suddenly Peter had quite a vivid imagination. He wanted to do this more. He really wanted to do this more. The thought of Terry, shirtless, snogging him…
“We can’t go to my house,” he said, biting his lip. “Snape.”
---
“Mine then,” Terry said, not letting go of Peter’s hand. Blissfully unaware of Peter’s past and future, Terry didn’t know that that the other man was everything that Terry hated and had been so against his entire life. But in that moment, Peter was just a man who was enjoying time with Terry, and Terry was enjoying it as well. “I live with another bloke, but I don’t think he’ll notice or care,” Terry said, not having any issue with the idea of Peter sneaking off in the morning to avoid being seen… or just not staying the night. Whatever it took for Peter to be comfortable.
As they walked on the dark and empty path, Terry pulled Peter closer, kissing the other man again in a more playful, easy style. This had stopped being about helping the other man discover himself somewhere between touching Peter’s back and that last kiss, and started being about just being near to someone nice. It had been a while since Terry had wanted someone for their personality and heart, and not the snugness of their jeans.
The house was dark when they arrived, and Terry told Peter which bedroom door was his before slipping into the kitchen to grab them two bottles of water and a bottle of whiskey to share. The house, and his room, had become a battleground between feet and toys. His once messy but somewhat organized bedroom was now littered with Rosemary’s dolls, though the bed was thankfully free of them. Terry walked into the bedroom, assuming Peter would be in there.
“Do you want the lights off or on?” he asked.
---
“...o-off,” Peter stammered a little, watching Terry nervously. In the brief period when he didn’t have the touch of Terry’s hands and the heat of Terry’s tongue to distract him, his head had started to catch up with him again. What was he doing here? He wanted to be here, but Terry didn’t know, there were so many things he didn’t know. He felt dishonest, but he couldn’t broach the subject now, not when he was standing here in Terry’s bedroom, his whole body humming.
At least if the lights were off, he didn’t have to worry about Terry seeing the Mark. Or… he tucked his maimed arm behind his body awkwardly, suddenly self-concious. “Terry, are you… are you sure…” he hesitated, not sure how to put his concern. “I mean I’m… not even whole, I’m barely a wizard, I’m…” A murderer. A spy. A traitor.
---
Terry put the three bottles on his dresser, walking towards Peter and stopping a few inches before him. “I know that I enjoy your company, and I enjoy being physical with you. I also know that this night, as far as I’m concerned, is in your hands. If you don’t want to do anything else, that’s totally okay. I can sleep on the couch, or walk you home, and we’ll be fine. But if you want to keep going, know that you are very whole and very much a wizard to me. And even if you couldn’t do magic at all? I’m a muggleborn. I don’t care,” Terry said, not trying to write Peter poetry or telling him that everything was perfect and lovely.
“”What do you want to do, Peter?” he asked, trying not to do what he wanted. Which was to touch him, to kiss him, to coax him into staying by reminding him what kissing felt like. “I’m happy no matter what. I’m selfish, I want to keep kissing, but even getting that much was fun. You more than made hiring a sitter worth it.”
---
Peter hesitated, just a moment more. He felt… there was still some level of confusion and anxiety under all the lust and alcohol. He hadn’t expected the night to go like this. He had never expected any night, ever, to go like this. But he also knew he didn’t want it to end, not yet. If it was all a big mistake it wouldn’t be the first one he’d ever made. That was for future, sober Peter to deal with. He took a shaking step forward and touched Terry’s cheek, the way he’d sometimes seen James do with Lily.
“Nox,” he said, firmly. He hadn’t actually expected it to work; more like a request than a command, but to his surprise all the lights went out. He hadn’t even been touching his wand. He decided future Peter could worry about that, as well, because they were kissing, again - he didn’t know who had started it this time, it had that wonderful quality of mutual initiation - and he let out another little “mm” noise of surprise and pleasure as Terry’s capable hands slipped under his collar and pushed his jacket back off his shoulders.
---
Terry’s hands rested on Peter’s for a moment after the jacket fell off. He felt the way Peter was built under his shirt, and though he’d honestly gone for buffer guys back home, Peter felt just fine to Terry. Better than fine actually, Peter had the bonus of being a nice man. He pushed Peter back, so that the man would fall onto the bed as Terry removed his own jacket, and then his tee shirt. Both were cast to the floor, along with his shoes.
Getting onto the bed and on top of Peter, he kissed the man again, a little more roughly this time than any of the times before. They were in a bed, and Terry was working on finding a way to get Peter’s upper half naked as quickly as possible. He’d never been so thankful for babysitters in his entire life, because he was pretty damn sure that he couldn’t have done this, even if Rosemary was sound asleep in a different room. Not when she had a habit of wanting to be right next to him when she slept, like a very persistent cat or small dog.
Terry found Peter’s upper arms after a moment, and he led the one that was still intact up to his own body, giving Peter silent permission to touch as much as he wanted. It was so easy, leading Peter from one movement to next. Finally throwing all caution to the wind, he straddled Peter outright, and began to take his shirt off fully so that Terry could rub his hands up and down Peter’s chest and feel it.
---
Peter let himself be pushed back onto the bed as his eyes struggled to adjust to the new darkness, grateful for the fog of alcohol that made this an easy decision. If he’d been sober he was sure there’d be a lot more inhibitions to battle. As it was, he accepted eagerly both the fall and the pressure as Terry leaned over him and kissed him hard. He responded in kind, acting on instinct as he had nothing else to fall back on - moaning softly at the touch of lips and tongues and the the rough but somehow intoxicating brush of stubble on Terry’s cheek against his nose. He let his hand be guided, almost surprised to find bare skin under his fingers.
He touched with a slightly shaking hand. As he brushed over Terry’s shoulder and down his chest, he felt it again, a humming feeling like a shockwave from the top of his head throughout his entire body. This time though, he did not push away. He gasped as he felt Terry’s full weight on his hips and searching fingers under his shirt. Glad for the darkness, he did his best to help Terry tug the t-shirt over his head - this was hard enough to do one-handed at the best of times, but considerably more of a struggle while lying in the dark on another man’s bed, with another man straddling him and snogging him and making him pant for more. Once he was free of it he had to fall back and catch his breath for a moment, bracing himself with his good hand against the curve of Terry’s collarbone.
----
Once both shirts were lost, Terry began to touch Peter’s chest lightly. Without the lights on he was missing the whole package, but he was okay with that as his lips moved from Peter’s lips to his cheek and finally neck, sucking and teasing there. He wouldn’t leave a hickey if he could avoid it, there was no need for Peter to have to answer questions about this to other people, but he did enjoy finding the spots that made Peter react the most.
It was fun to have a new partner, to learn those quirks. What was ticklish, what felt good, where the other man was soft and where he was hard. Terry would be lying if he said it wasn’t feeling a little frustrated that he knew having sex was a bad idea. He knew that there was no way it would be healthy for either of them, and if he was going to be in the same village as Peter for years or even just weeks, he couldn’t really do a one night stand move. Besides, snogging was actually a lot of fun right then.
Terry adjusted his position so that he could turn them and Peter would have a chance to be on top and giving the orders for a little while. Though Terry couldn’t find it within himself to pull his lips away from the man’s neck quiet yet.
---
Peter was not quite confident enough to pull himself on top of Terry, but he lay on his side, whimpering with pleasure at the feel of Terry’s mouth on his throat. That seemed to work anyway because he could lean on his bad arm while alternately gripping Terry’s side, his shoulder, his hair - with his hand, partially to explore, to have something to touch, but also for some support as the previously unknown sensations came over and over, every fresh inch of skin Terry touched coming alive with nerves.
After a while, when he thought he couldn’t stand it a second longer, he squirmed away from Terry’s touch and lay on his back, panting, muttering words under his breath that his mother would no doubt have slapped him for even thinking, if she had known. Well. That answers that then, doesn’t it?
“Merlin’s bloody…” he breathed, unable to think of any appropriate hypothetical body parts or possessions that could summarise the way things were currently happening in his head, not to mention the rest of him. “Is this… you… this is normal?” he asked, glad that Terry couldn’t read the disbelief on his face.
---
Terry couldn't help but laugh a little at Peter’s question, leaning over and kissing his cheek before pulling back. “Yeah, this is normal,” he promised, rolling onto his back. There was about half a foot between them this way, and Terry was equally glad it was dark because he didn’t need Peter to see just how much Terry had gotten into this. “It can be different, sometimes. Actually, it’s pretty much different every time. All that matters is that it’s a good thing and everyone wants to be there and doing what they’re doing,” he said. “Or having done to them, while we’re at it.”
“Are you alright?” he asked, pretty sure the answer was going to be yes. “If you want, you can sleep here. Or you can go home, which is fine. And we don’t ever have to this again, or we can do it all the time. It’s your call, Peter. And in betweens are fine,” it felt good to hand these reigns over to Peter. He could go with the flow, and he liked the idea of being able to say he’d helped someone grow confident in their sexuality.
He did wish the lights were on though, just to see Peter fully. He’d felt enough of him to guess that he’d like what he’d see.
---
“I’m okay,” Peter said. If a heartbeat the speed of a flying curse was ‘okay’. “Just need - to breathe, a bit.” And perhaps for certain parts of his body to stop reacting. He groaned. “I definit’ly had too much to drink.” He glanced over to where he knew Terry to be, though he could only see a dull outline, and the whites of his eyes. The words ‘we can do it all the time’ sent a thrill of anticipation through him, but also a stab of guilt. There was so much Terry didn’t know. He wouldn’t want Peter all the time, if he knew.
“You were right,” he said, low, once he had enough of his breath back to speak properly. “I never kissed a… another bloke before. Or anyone. I always… I always thought it was wrong, or something, to think those things…” he swallowed. “And it was always so easy for everyone else, for J - for my friends… I guess I just figured there was something wrong with me.”
---
Terry reached his hand over, holding Peter’s and threading his fingers with Peter’s before he closed his eyes and smiled, liking the simplicity of this moment. He knew what it was like to feel broken, or like he was somehow the one who wasn’t whole or right. He rolled a little bit, so that his forehead was pressed on Peter’s shoulder. Touching, but not so much so that either of them would feel too suffocated. “It seems easy for other people. It should be easy, when you’re with the right person or at least the right sort of person. This was fun. This was great, actually, Peter. At least for me,” he said with a chuckle.
“There’s nothing wrong with you. Not at all. I know, I get it, I thought there was something wrong with me when I was a teenager. I even tried dating girls, I had a girlfriend after school. But then I opened myself up, and I’m happy about that. Being open, telling people I loved, and falling love with a man, it all made me happier with myself. I got lucky, I had a lot people who loved me and were ready to accept me no matter what. I don’t know if you have that, but know I’m here. And I support you.”
---
“Thanks,” Peter breathed out. “I might… need that.” He tried not to imagine how his friends - or former friends - might react. Not that it was really any of their business, he realised. He didn’t have to go screaming it from the rooftops. For now it was enough that he knew. That he understood.
Oh fuck. No wonder he had always hated Lily.
With that thought, his libido did calm significantly. This was more or less a relief - he didn’t want to make a fool of himself, but he didn’t want to run off, either. He’d been alone for so long that not being alone… it was a like a drug. He didn’t know how he was ever going to give it up. He didn’t know if ‘fun’ was the right word, it was so much more than that. Maybe once you’d done enough of it that it became commonplace, it could be fun.
Tentatively he rolled back and, fumbling a little in the dark, kissed Terry again with his hand on the older man’s shoulder. “I think I could get used to this,” he murmured, eyes wide in the dark.
---
Terry kissed him back right away, enjoying how it felt to be close to him, kissing him. He put a hand up into Peter’s hand, touching his scalp gently with a happy sigh. “I could too,” he said, feeling relaxed and ready to just enjoy exactly what they were doing together. “I haven’t- sorry, nevermind, it’s stupid,” he said, quickly pushing away any thoughts of saying something that would sound as if this were more than making out between friends.
Because that was what Peter was: a friend. Terry had only had one grown up relationship in his life, and he fucked that up. And somehow, the idea of fucking up with Peter seem just wrong to him. He didn’t want to do it. He wanted to keep Peter in his life. Oh, sure, he’d love to get back to being domestic. He’d love waking up in the morning and trading off who made coffee and then arguing over which cable company they should use when the contract ran out. He missed sleeping with someone every night- not sex, just sleeping next to another body.
But all that came with Terry needing to be able to take care of himself emotionally enough to be able to take care of a relationship as well. Was he there? He didn’t think he was.
---
Peter frowned a little, made anxious by the first sign of any uncertainty from Terry since the man had led him out of the bar and into his new life. Maybe it was the drink thinking for him, but he had been starting to think of Terry as the human version of some kind of… not a guiding angel, exactly, that was not nearly masculine enough, but what were those demon things that led unsuspecting victims down forest paths and made them breed with them? Some sort of dryad, he thought. They made people think lustful thoughts, anyway.
Yeah. Definitely too much to drink.
“You okay?” he asked, not sure what else to say. “I can go...” he looked around blindly for his clothes. They must have fallen somewhere on the floor.
---
“I’m fine, stay,” he said, putting a hand on Peter’s chest and leaning in enough to kiss him properly. He took some time with it, wanting to show Peter just how much he wanted the other man to stay. “I was just going to say… that it’s been a long time since I just snogged with someone. And how it’s been an even longer time since the person I was with was a nice guy. Someone I actually wanted to talk to, not just look at,” he said, trying to retract the romance or gooey parts of what he was saying. Which was, simply, that he liked Peter as a person and as a kisser. And that he sort of wanted to do both with him all the time now.
“I think I could get very comfortable with you.” Terry went back to kissing Peter at that point, but he kept it lighter than before. A hand on his stomach, the kisses kept soft before he finally pulled back and settled onto his side once more. Eyes closed once more, he satisfied himself with rubbing his thumb over Peter’s skin above his belly button. He had a hundred questions in his head, and he wanted to ask them. He wanted to know about Peter’s hand, he wanted to know about the first war, about Peter’s friends and his family. But he wasn’t sure if they were there yet.
“I’d like to get to know you better.”
---
The words “a nice guy” made Peter’s heart sink and his stomach turn. What the hell was he doing? This was wrong. He was being selfish and stupid and deceitful, all over again. He let Terry kiss him because it was easy and it felt good and he wasn’t strong enough to push him away and say ‘no, you shouldn’t be doing this, you should get away from me and never touch me again’, and because no one had ever touched him like this before and if it stopped he wasn’t sure what he would do.
No you wouldn’t, he thought loudly - too loudly - when Terry said he wanted to know him better. He didn’t answer. There was no answer to give that didn’t end in Terry cursing him or throwing him out of the house, or both.
What have I done?