Nathan Petrelli had awaited the morning of November 9^th for the past year. He had anticipated sleeping in all day, drowning in self pity at lositng the election, or jovially getting up at the crack of dawn and making a ten dish breakfast for his entire family. Groaning and leaning upright in his queen bed, he took a glance around his naturally lighted room. The way he had not expected things to turn out was waking up alone his room with bruised wrists and tender ass.

“Too…much…alchohal….” he grunted, rubbing his rump.

****

What had started off as an innocent shots contest had turned into a hilarious kareoke riot at his winnings party, after he heard the news that he had won the election. Just about a dozen friends and sponsers were gathered in the Petrelli mansion ballroom, watching Peter and Nathan down tequila in friendly competition. Peter wasn’t normally a heavy drinker, but any excuse to proove himself against Nathan was too tempting.

“Ten!” shouted the crowd, cheering, as Peter smugly slammed down his tenth shotglass face down on the table. “Give up yet, Nate?”

Nathan scoffed, swaggering his arm drunkly. “You have no idea what you’re talking about bro.” 

Then, Nathan chugged two shots at one time, gulping painfully as the alchohal burned his throat going down. He almost missed the table when he tried to set the glasses down roughly. Even with his bleary vision, Peter’s eyes went wide.

Nathan smirked. “You give?”

The group around them was clapping in rhythm, cheering on either the congressman or his underdog brother.

“Never!” cried Peter, raising the tequila bottle. “I’m like Rocky, man! I’ll never surrender!”

“Wahooo!!” hollered the mob, gasping as Peter took a long swig straight from the bottle. Nathan’s confidence was wiped right off of his face.

“What would that be?” boasted Peter. “Thirteen? Fooouuuurrrteeeen...” His speech was slurring dangerously now, making Nathan laugh like a hyena.

“I’ve got to get you drunk more often,” bellowed Nathan, almost falling out of his chair clumsily. “This is hilarious.”

Peter sniggered, unaware of the loud group around them. “Wouldn’t you love that?”

“Oh yeah,” agreed Nathan energetically. “I could make you-,” he stopped midway, to fall into a fit of giggles before continuing. “I could make you dress up like Madonna!”

Rather then snapping back, Peter just grinned and burst into a loud (and high-pitched) chorus of “Like A Virgin.” The throng of socialites around him snickered wickedly, and on a normal basis, Nathan would have smacked his brother and told him not to embarrass the family anymore. But Nathan was much too plastered to care now, and their mother and Heidi went out at some girly French resturant after the official campaign party at HQ. The only people there were the brothers, and a few sponsers that were steadily getting drunker as well.

“Like a viiiiiiiiirgin,” they sang together, Nathan joining in. “When your heart beats, next to mine!”

Both men had their glasses raised and Peter had his hand on his brother’s shoulder firmly. It was a gesture that Peter used almost everytime he saw Nathan, but now, the congressman was much more aware of it.

An older gentleman in a red bowtie pushed his way through to the brothers Petrelli. He coughed awkwardly as the boys had now stood up, swaying with their arms around each other’s shoudlers while singing “Kumbaya.”

“Ahem, excuse me?” asked the old man and Nathan peered forward.

“James? What the hell?” he asked, annoyed at the interruption.

“I think you and Peter should go off to bed. It’s been a long night.” James remarked, supporting Nathan’s elbow with his hand.

Peter grimaced, letting himself be dragged up the stairs, his arm still hanging limp around Nathan’s shoulders. “You should have phrased that differently.”

James stifled an eye roll and Nathan burst out laughing at Peter’s comment. After a few seconds, Peter starting laughing too, and James Garrison was stuck dragging two giddy, hammered brothers up a grand staircase.

“I assume you two can find bedrooms,” said James at the top of the stairwell. Nathan saluted him drowsily, making Peter snort, and the headed off in tandem, down the hall. James just shook his head, walking down the stairs and knowing that know good could come of this.

Nathan and Peter stumbled into the first bedroom they saw, both crashing down on the comfy king bed. Peter moaned at the softness of the comfoter, and he buried his face in the Tempur-Pedic pillow.

“I call dibs,” Nathan announced tiredly, making Peter’s ears perk up angrily.

“No way! I won the shot contest!” he protested.

“Did not,” Nathan lazily said, laying down and closing his eyes, completely ignoring his pouty brother.

“Did too!”

Nathan opened his eyes and propped himself up on his elbow. “Did NOT.”

Losing control, Peter struck his brother across his face with the palm of his hand. “I won it!”

Nathan rubbed his cheek gingerly. “Wow, that was manly, Pete. What, do you turn gay when you’re drunk too?”

Peter, who was about to explode with anger, knew to do only one thing. It was the oddest thing in the world, and any other time that he was thinking straight, it would revolt him. But he grabbed his brother by the collar and pulled him close, Nathan’s eyes going wide.

“You do too,” Peter growled, then kissed Nathan full on the mouth.

Nathan almost fell off the bed with the force he used to push Peter away. Hastily, he wiped his tounge off with his hand, shuddering and staring at his brother in anger and shock.

“What the HELL was that?” he demanded, and Peter looked as surprised as he did.

“Sorry…I…I…dunno….,” stammered Peter, blushing furiously and looking away. Nathan shifted, sitting on his knees and leaning forward slightly. Peter got couragous enough to look Nathan in the face. The older man’s brow was furrowed in thought.

“Do it again,” he said quizically. Peter’s eyebrows almost shot off his forehead.

“Say what now?” Peter exclaimed.

“Do it again,” husked Nathan, taking a good look at the lean frame he could see on his brother even through Peter’s undershirt.

“Er…are you sure that’s not the tequila talking?” asked Peter, swallowing hard. He had rested back on the pillows, upright on his elbows, and Nathan was steadily crawling, leaning over him dangerously.

“I’m totally sure it’s the tequila talking,” shrugged Nathan, beginning to rip off his tie. Peter found the action rather dirty sexy at the moment. Dirty because it was Nathan for God’s sake. And sexy because…oh Lord …it was Nathan.

Peter cleared his throat nervously, unconciously leaning back deeper and deeper before the back of his head was about to go through the bed. Nathan was playing with a lock of Peter’s jet black hair, and Peter felt his whole body stiffen. This was incredibly wrong, so, so, so, wrong…yet he had this handsome, smokin’ man of any woman’s most naughty desires nearly on top of him.

“You gonna surrender this time, Rocky?” purred Nathan, still snarky even when he was so drunk that he was seducing his own brother.

Peter sighed, all tension leaving his body. “No. I surrender.”

The younger man could still feel Nathan’s devious grin against his lips as his brother went in for the kill.

But something wasn’t right. Why did Nathan, the older alpha-male, always get to…be on top? Not just in this sense of course, but in everything? Nathan was always controlling, dominating, rolling his eyes while fixing Peter’s mistakes.

With all the strength he could muster, Peter grabbed Nathan’s shoulders, unceremoniously flipped him over, and pinned his brother beneath him. Nathan was taken aback, but not unplesently so. He cupped Peter’s jawline with square fingers and tugged at his lips with his teeth.

Peter moaned through his own gritted teeth, running his warm hand down Nathan’s side. His fingers sought out Nathan’s bare skin, tracing the curves of firm muscle.

“Geez, Nathan, you need to shave,” Peter cringed, ripping his hands away from his brother’s slightly furry chest. For the first time that Peter could remember, Nathan looked self-councious. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked up at Peter, who was straddeling him.

“Yeah, I bet you’re a lot better,” he said sarcastically. Peter hmphed and haughtily ripped his shirt over his head, revealing a gorgeously chisled, and perfectly clean shaven body. Nathan lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Lucky me,” he growled, placing a muscular hand in the center of Peter’s chest, as if making sure he was real. Peter smirked arrogently and dived into the crook of Nathan’s neck.

Surpressing a moan of ecstasy (for he didn’t want to give Peter THAT much satisfaction) as Peter’s mouth dominated the sensitive skin of his neck, Nathan thrashed underneath Peter, trying to give him a taste of his own erotic medicine. It had the desired effect, with Peter crying back and groping various parts of Nathan’s anatomy. Peter felt Nathan’s strong hands running painfully through his hair.

“Those damn bangs,” Nathan grunted between their oral wars.

“Get over it,” snapped Peter, clumsily fumbling with the buttons on Nathan’s dress shirt. His hunger for bare skin (even if it was slightly hairy) overcame him and with one quick tug, he ripped the shirt open, buttons flying everywhere.

“That’s Armani,” scolded Nathan, but not doing a thing about it except shrugging it off of his arms and pulling his undershirt off. “You owe me another one. Three hundred bucks.”

“Maybe I’ll pay you back in sex,” Peter retaliated sardonically. “Since you seem to like that so much.”

Yet while Peter was mocking his brother’s animalistic forwardness, he was the one attacking Nathan’s mouth vigorously, whimpering at the feel of the other man’s arousal beneath him.

I am so drunk. It’s a good thing that all I’ll remember tomorrow is the bottom of that tequila bottle and a headache, Peter mentally sighed. Cause otherwise, this would haunt my nightmares  for the rest of my life. Seriously. The REST. Of. My LIFE.

Nathan was slightly less thoughtful. What was IN that shit? Oh yeah. Alchohol. Hehe.

Peter pulled back suddenly, staring down at his grinning brother, aghast.

“Did you say  ‘hehe’?”

Nathan stopped smiling. “No…I thought it. I didn’t say it.”

“You just DID! I heard you! You said ‘Hehe’! You just did it!”

Nathan glared. “Bite me.”

“With pleasure.”

Before Nathan could stop him, Peter bent in, his smooth torso colliding with Nathan’s, and he sunk his teeth into Nathan’s neckline.

“Arrrrrrg!!!!” yiped Nathan, in part pain, shock, and pleasure.

To seal the wound a bit, Peter lapped the light trickle of blood in short bursts. Nathan sniffed, concealing his openmouthed expression of rapture that Peter couldn’t see at the moment.

“Enough of this,” he demanded, sinking his nails into Peter’s bare back. “Take off your pants.”

“Yes, mistress,” replied Peter, rolling his eyes. “Why do you do all the commanding, and I’m the one on top?”

“Sacrifices,” shrugged Nathan. “Give a little, get a little.”

Gay incest. I’m about to embark in gay incest. Peter groaned, shaking his head. On the other hand, that’s kind of an oxymoron. The only reason incest is illegal is because inbred children have birth defects and stuff. So if two men were together, it’s not like they could have a kid anyway, so would it be, like, okay?

 “Dammit Peter! Have you ever even had sex? At all? Ever? You’re so clueless, it’s not even funny. As your brother, I really don’t want to have to ‘show you the ropes’.”

Nathan’s outburst broke him out of his thoughts, and Peter proceeed to unbutton and unzip his pants, revealing a healthy sized excitement beneath. Nathan was not happy. The more the size, the more he knew his ass was gonna really hurt tomorrow.

“You aren’t exactly the master of this subject either,” retorted Peter, unzipping Nathan’s own pants and sliding them off. “All the sex I’ve ever had has been silent.”

“All the sex I’ve ever had was with women. Ironic, since they’re the ones that will never shut up.”

For once in that night of gawky situation, the two brothers agreed on something. Peter took advantage of the moment, leaning in and kissing Nathan tenderly, rather then fueled with passion like their last. Nathan responded aptly, moving his thin lips in sync and rubbing Peter’s toned biceps.

“You taste like badass,” murmered Peter suggestivly.

“Alchohol is badass. Look what its making us do right now.”

Peter chuckled grimly. “And I don’t give a care.”

Shedding their remainder of clothes, the brothers made a silent agreement to be…well…silent. The chatter and bantering, though slightly arousing at times, was not needing for their next endeavors. Nathan rolled on his stomach painfully, his only pleasure in Peter’s bare body straddeling his back, massaging his shoulders and his legs rubbing on the outside of Nathan’s own. He could feel Nathan’s body stiffening, and he continued to rub his brother’s back, relaxing him.

“Just do it,” growled Nathan, swatting away Peter’s soothing palms.

xxx

Panting, Peter rolled over sideways, lying next to his brother in the bed. He grabbed Nathan’s hand and grinned.

“You did great, man. Not even one tear, I see.”

Nathan glared. “Yeah, but dammit, have some self-control next time. You know how weird it feels for a guy to have an orgasm in your ass?”

Peter propped himself up on his elbow. “Next time? Whadaya mean a next time?”

Nathan sniffed a bit, not knowing what exactly he’d meant. He knew it was totally the drunkedness controlling him, yet the still slightly sensable man in him felt…right lying here naked and plastered in  post-coital snark with his little brother.

“I dunno,” confessed Nathan. “I doubt there will be a next time.”

“Yeah, Heidi wouldn’t like that too much. Speaking of which, did you just have an affair?”

Nathan blinked. “No clue. I wasn’t really thinking about that, Peter. I was more concerned with the fact that just let my little brother screw me.”

“You always said that I was a pain in your ass,” shrugged Peter. Nathan cringed.

“What about you? Homosexual incest gonna put a damper on that thing you have with Simone?”

Peter exhaled, sinking back into the comfy pillows. “Whatever thing that was is done now. I was the rebound guy…like usual.”

“There’s always that cheerleader.”

Peter scowled. “She’s sixteen, Nathan.”

Nathan scoffed. “Look what you just did. Statuatory rape will be the least of your sins.”

Peter rubbed his forehead. “Why should I listen to you? You’re drunker then a monkey at a keg party.”

Nathan didn’t reply, instead going for suddenly sticking his tounge out, revolted.

“Yeah. I feel like I’m gonna puke.”

“That’s your liver talking to you.”

“How would you know?”

“I’m a nurse,” replied Peter, arching an eyebrow. 

“So, do you do this with your patients too?”

Peter was disgusted. “Of course not! How sick do you think I am?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

Peter sighed. “You’re gonna want to take Tylenol for that..ahem…pain, by the way.”

“When? I’d like a straight shot of morphine, if your damn nurse’s status would allow,” Nathan moped. 

Grinning, Peter leaned in one more time. “Just shut up, take two, and call me in the morning.” He planted a soft kiss on Nathan’s already retorting mouth. And that’s when the ultimate moodbreaker came waltzing through the door.

“Boys?” asked a shrill female voice from the doorway. A thud sound marked Angela Petrelli’s purse slipping out of her slack fingers.

“Mom!” shouted Nathan and Peter in unision, trying to clamber out of bed and cover their nudity. But it was really a lost cause, for Mama Petrelli feinted on the floor in front of them, just as Nathan was pulling his boxers back on.

“Got any nausea medicine?” He asked Peter slowly. “Cause here comes that vomit.”

***