randomly, because you linked me to this photo and it delighted me so:
Like all social functions, Nathan had to bribe Peter to attend, this time with a promise that he'd get to personally handle the Juarez account. He was going to anyway, but Peter didn't have to know that. Once he was there though, he seemed happy enough, but that was most likely due to the champagne he kept downing as if it were water. "You might want to pace yourself," Nathan said, surveying the crowd, during a brief moment when no one was stopping by to say hello.
They were all secretly resentful of them, he knew that, but the Petrellis' money and influence overrid whatever classist sensibilities they might have, at least for tonight. Nathan had half a mind to sic Peter on one of their precious debutant daughters, just to watch him tear the girl apart, piece by piece. But of course he couldn't let Peter know that he loathed them, and these puerile gatherings, as much as he did, or he'd never hear the end of it. Plus, knowing Peter, he'd probably fall in love with the girl and do something foolish like ask her to marry him.
"I'm trying to decide which blonde you're going to insist on sneaking away with," Peter said. "Probably the one in that knock-off Prada, she's been eying you ever since you got here."
Nathan patted him affectionately on the cheek. "I only have eyes for you, Pete," he replied. "Besides, I'd never fuck someone who wears imitation designer dresses. I have standards."
"No, Nathan. You really don't." He sounded marginally more cheerful though, and he grin he flashed Nathan was honest, if brief. Nathan grabbed hold of his wrist and let his thumb slide along the inside, until Peter's eyes darkened and he swayed, almost imperceptibly, towards him. "I'd let you fuck fake-Prada if you'd like," he said, his lips close to Nathan's ear. "If you'd let me watch."
"The last time that happened I had to burn the sheets and throw away my mattress."
"Sheesh Nathan, why must you be such a pain in the ass." He sighed. "Okay, I promise not to kill her, there. Are you happy?"
"It's not that I don't trust you, Pete. It's that-"
"It's that you don't trust me?" Peter widened his eyes, gave him the patented Peter Petrelli "I can't believe what I'm hearing why must you be so mean" stare of earnestness. "I said I promised. What more do you want?"
Nathan grit his teeth and sipped his drink, considered his next words with care. "She's not my type," he said finally.
"Fine, pick someone who's your type."
"You want this so badly? You choose someone."
"Fine. The brunette leaning against that pillar in the corner. At least her clothes didn't come from Hong Kong." Nathan made a face. Peter would choose someone who looked like that. "She's beautiful," Peter said, wrapping one arm around Nathan's shoulders. "You never did have any taste."
"No taste, no standards, that's me all right. What does that say about you, though?"
"The exception that proves the rule." He smiled and snagged another glass of champagne that was sailing by on a waiter's tray and mouthed, "Wish me luck," before disappearing into the crowd.
The brunette said yes, as Nathan knew she would. Once Peter turned on his not inconsiderable charm, they always said yes. He led her over and Nathan kissed the back of her hand, murmured something polite and appropriate for the occasion. Peter said, "Ten minutes, we'll meet you outside. We have to say goodbye to the hosts first."
"She's an accountant," he told Nathan as they made their way to the middle of the room where their hosts were holding court. "I love accountants."
"Of course you do," Nathan said, not bothering to ask why. They said their farewells, air-kisses and hearty handshakes all around, and Peter managed not to hit the host, a middle aged man who was the COO of one of the largest private security firms in the country, when he punched him lightly in the arm. Instead he just laughed, which was always slightly disconcerting, so Nathan led him out of there as fast as he could.
...and then they had hot, disturbing, threesome sex and Nathan had to call Noah to handle the body the end.
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Date: 2010-04-16 04:57 pm (UTC)Like all social functions, Nathan had to bribe Peter to attend, this time with a promise that he'd get to personally handle the Juarez account. He was going to anyway, but Peter didn't have to know that. Once he was there though, he seemed happy enough, but that was most likely due to the champagne he kept downing as if it were water. "You might want to pace yourself," Nathan said, surveying the crowd, during a brief moment when no one was stopping by to say hello.
They were all secretly resentful of them, he knew that, but the Petrellis' money and influence overrid whatever classist sensibilities they might have, at least for tonight. Nathan had half a mind to sic Peter on one of their precious debutant daughters, just to watch him tear the girl apart, piece by piece. But of course he couldn't let Peter know that he loathed them, and these puerile gatherings, as much as he did, or he'd never hear the end of it. Plus, knowing Peter, he'd probably fall in love with the girl and do something foolish like ask her to marry him.
"I'm trying to decide which blonde you're going to insist on sneaking away with," Peter said. "Probably the one in that knock-off Prada, she's been eying you ever since you got here."
Nathan patted him affectionately on the cheek. "I only have eyes for you, Pete," he replied. "Besides, I'd never fuck someone who wears imitation designer dresses. I have standards."
"No, Nathan. You really don't." He sounded marginally more cheerful though, and he grin he flashed Nathan was honest, if brief. Nathan grabbed hold of his wrist and let his thumb slide along the inside, until Peter's eyes darkened and he swayed, almost imperceptibly, towards him. "I'd let you fuck fake-Prada if you'd like," he said, his lips close to Nathan's ear. "If you'd let me watch."
"The last time that happened I had to burn the sheets and throw away my mattress."
"Sheesh Nathan, why must you be such a pain in the ass." He sighed. "Okay, I promise not to kill her, there. Are you happy?"
"It's not that I don't trust you, Pete. It's that-"
"It's that you don't trust me?" Peter widened his eyes, gave him the patented Peter Petrelli "I can't believe what I'm hearing why must you be so mean" stare of earnestness. "I said I promised. What more do you want?"
Nathan grit his teeth and sipped his drink, considered his next words with care. "She's not my type," he said finally.
"Fine, pick someone who's your type."
"You want this so badly? You choose someone."
"Fine. The brunette leaning against that pillar in the corner. At least her clothes didn't come from Hong Kong." Nathan made a face. Peter would choose someone who looked like that. "She's beautiful," Peter said, wrapping one arm around Nathan's shoulders. "You never did have any taste."
"No taste, no standards, that's me all right. What does that say about you, though?"
"The exception that proves the rule." He smiled and snagged another glass of champagne that was sailing by on a waiter's tray and mouthed, "Wish me luck," before disappearing into the crowd.
The brunette said yes, as Nathan knew she would. Once Peter turned on his not inconsiderable charm, they always said yes. He led her over and Nathan kissed the back of her hand, murmured something polite and appropriate for the occasion. Peter said, "Ten minutes, we'll meet you outside. We have to say goodbye to the hosts first."
"She's an accountant," he told Nathan as they made their way to the middle of the room where their hosts were holding court. "I love accountants."
"Of course you do," Nathan said, not bothering to ask why. They said their farewells, air-kisses and hearty handshakes all around, and Peter managed not to hit the host, a middle aged man who was the COO of one of the largest private security firms in the country, when he punched him lightly in the arm. Instead he just laughed, which was always slightly disconcerting, so Nathan led him out of there as fast as he could.
...and then they had hot, disturbing, threesome sex and Nathan had to call Noah to handle the body the end.