cruiscin_lan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cruiscin_lan) wrote2009-01-02 12:16 am
cruiscin_lan) wrote2009-01-02 12:16 am
FIC: Annapolis, 1989
Title: Annapolis, 1989
Characters/Pairings: Nathan/Meredith
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or any of its characters
Word count: 1173
Summary: Nathan and Meredith meet for the first time
It wasn't the first time Meredith had found herself in an unfamiliar bar in an unfamiliar town, but it was the first time she'd seen her brother in years. It had taken her awhile to track him down, as he was several states away, but he'd made it easier for her by showing up in prison from time to time. All she had to do was follow the police blotter and connect the dots until she finally had the chance to bail him out.
How ironic that after all her searching, he wanted to celebrate his freedom by going to the same kind of dive Meredith could have just as easily found in Kermit, or Nashville, or any of the other dozen small towns she had stopped in en route to Annapolis. He didn't take into account that they were both underage; he didn't really need to. Flint may not have had much going on upstairs, but sometimes his towering presence was convincing enough, and the Gordon siblings were served without being carded.
A few beers later, Flint stumbled into a game of pool across the room, leaving his sister alone at the bar. Meredith finished her beer and then watched the foam slowly slide down the inside of the glass, not knowing that she had caught the eyes of a group of uniformed men who were seated at a table behind her.
"So, was that your boyfriend?"
"I beg your pardon?" Startled, Meredith turned to find that one of the enlisted men had sidled up to the bar next to her.
"Let me try this again," he said, smiling widely. He ran his hand through his dark hair, obviously trying to be nonchalant and charming. "Can I buy you a drink?"
"Sure," she replied. She had spent all her money bailing her brother out, and she doubted Flint had even a penny in his pocket. They had intended to simply drink and ditch, but if she could stick the bill to a terrible flirt instead...
"You don't look old enough to be here," he remarked.
The last thing she needed was to make trouble, but she couldn't always control her fiery temper. "That's not really your call to make, now, is it?" she snapped.
"An observation, that's all." The bartender gave the man two beers from the tap, and he slid one across the poorly-lacquered countertop to Meredith, spilling some of it along the way. "I like your shirt."
"Thanks," she said flatly, already bored of his company. She did look good, even without trying. Her shirt ended at her midriff, showing off her tiny teenage waistline and her acid-washed jeans. She had her bangs teased back over her forehead in one large curl, blonde locks cascading to her shoulders in loose waves. She was, no doubt, the best-looking woman in the place.
"You know," he said lowly, practically whispering, "it would look nicer on the floor of my hotel room." He put his hand on her shoulder and cockily smiled again.
Meredith raised one eyebrow, almost in disbelief at his audacity. She shook off his hand, repulsed by his overture. "You must think I'm drunker than I am," she told him.
"I'm sorry if I'm interrupting something, but is he bothering you?"
Meredith turned again at the sound of a new voice. Another uniformed man had wandered up to the bar; she didn't know how long he'd been standing behind her, listening to their conversation.
"Actually, Petrelli, you are interrupting something..." the other man fumed; apparently he hadn't realized that he'd already been rejected.
Meredith turned to the newcomer, looked him in the eye and told him straightforwardly, "Listen, you don't have to worry about it. I can take care of myself."
"Not a problem, miss. Just checking." He ordered a few bottles and brought them back to the guys at his table. As he did so, Meredith looked casually over her shoulder, trying to get a second glance.
Now there's a guy I could go home with.
She got up from the bar, leaving the beer untouched and her would-be suitor baffled and embarrassed, and followed the other man to the table. "Well, Petrelli," she called out, using the name she'd heard the other man use to try and get his attention.
"It's Nathan, actually." He stepped away from his friends and leaned against the wall; somehow his nonchalance seemed more genuine, as he shifted against the exposed brick to get comfortable.
"I'm Meredith," she said, then immediately floundered for a reason to talk to him. This was not very well-thought-out, in retrospect. "Listen, I know... you were just trying to be a gentleman. I didn't mean to..."
"No offense meant, none taken, I understand," he said, holding up his hand and stifling a laugh. "It's okay, you didn't hurt my feelings."
"I just... I just wanted to make that clear," she blushed. That wasn't the case at all, and Nathan Petrelli knew it; she wanted to make an excuse to talk to him, to take in his bedroom eyes and chiseled jaw.
Sweet Jesus, Meredith thought, if only he had a mustache like Tom Selleck, he'd be my dream man.
"You're not from around here, are you?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.
"From Texas, originally," she confessed.
"Your accent gave you away," he told her.
She suddenly became self-conscious, afraid of revealing her white-trash background. It was time to change the subject. "So... Navy?"
"Yeah, I'm a pilot," he smiled. "I love to fly. I almost feel like I was born to do it."
"You like being up so high?" Meredith asked, sincere. "I've never flown before."
"It's amazing. I don't even know how to describe it to you. It gives you an entirely new perspective."
They chatted some more as Nathan's navy buddies disappeared in groups of twos and threes, until he was the only one left at the bar in uniform.
"Wow," he laughed. "I guess it's been so long since I've even talked to a pretty girl that I lost track of the time."
"I'm just pretty?" she teased. "Normally I get at least a 'gorgeous.'"
"Well, you are quite..." He paused and smiled. "Hot. That's really the only word I can think of to accurately describe you."
If only you knew, Meredith thought, biting her lower lip. She was hot, yes... and impulsive. She glanced back over her shoulder; Flint was still wrapped up in pool, and she tried not to worry about him causing trouble without her supervision. Instead, she took Nathan by the hand and started to lead him towards the women's restroom.
"Where are we... what are you doing?" he stammered momentarily.
She smiled in reply. "You said it's been a long time since you talked to a pretty girl," she cooed. She reached up to his face and brushed a fallen eyelash away from his cheek.
"So...?"
"So... let's talk," she straightened and whispered into his ear, "in private." Her breath was hot on his neck. "Come on, Top Gun."
For a moment he hesitated, but she stroked the back of his neck, and he was reminded again of how long he'd been in the Navy... too long. He followed her willing into the restroom, and they talked.
Characters/Pairings: Nathan/Meredith
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or any of its characters
Word count: 1173
Summary: Nathan and Meredith meet for the first time
It wasn't the first time Meredith had found herself in an unfamiliar bar in an unfamiliar town, but it was the first time she'd seen her brother in years. It had taken her awhile to track him down, as he was several states away, but he'd made it easier for her by showing up in prison from time to time. All she had to do was follow the police blotter and connect the dots until she finally had the chance to bail him out.
How ironic that after all her searching, he wanted to celebrate his freedom by going to the same kind of dive Meredith could have just as easily found in Kermit, or Nashville, or any of the other dozen small towns she had stopped in en route to Annapolis. He didn't take into account that they were both underage; he didn't really need to. Flint may not have had much going on upstairs, but sometimes his towering presence was convincing enough, and the Gordon siblings were served without being carded.
A few beers later, Flint stumbled into a game of pool across the room, leaving his sister alone at the bar. Meredith finished her beer and then watched the foam slowly slide down the inside of the glass, not knowing that she had caught the eyes of a group of uniformed men who were seated at a table behind her.
"So, was that your boyfriend?"
"I beg your pardon?" Startled, Meredith turned to find that one of the enlisted men had sidled up to the bar next to her.
"Let me try this again," he said, smiling widely. He ran his hand through his dark hair, obviously trying to be nonchalant and charming. "Can I buy you a drink?"
"Sure," she replied. She had spent all her money bailing her brother out, and she doubted Flint had even a penny in his pocket. They had intended to simply drink and ditch, but if she could stick the bill to a terrible flirt instead...
"You don't look old enough to be here," he remarked.
The last thing she needed was to make trouble, but she couldn't always control her fiery temper. "That's not really your call to make, now, is it?" she snapped.
"An observation, that's all." The bartender gave the man two beers from the tap, and he slid one across the poorly-lacquered countertop to Meredith, spilling some of it along the way. "I like your shirt."
"Thanks," she said flatly, already bored of his company. She did look good, even without trying. Her shirt ended at her midriff, showing off her tiny teenage waistline and her acid-washed jeans. She had her bangs teased back over her forehead in one large curl, blonde locks cascading to her shoulders in loose waves. She was, no doubt, the best-looking woman in the place.
"You know," he said lowly, practically whispering, "it would look nicer on the floor of my hotel room." He put his hand on her shoulder and cockily smiled again.
Meredith raised one eyebrow, almost in disbelief at his audacity. She shook off his hand, repulsed by his overture. "You must think I'm drunker than I am," she told him.
"I'm sorry if I'm interrupting something, but is he bothering you?"
Meredith turned again at the sound of a new voice. Another uniformed man had wandered up to the bar; she didn't know how long he'd been standing behind her, listening to their conversation.
"Actually, Petrelli, you are interrupting something..." the other man fumed; apparently he hadn't realized that he'd already been rejected.
Meredith turned to the newcomer, looked him in the eye and told him straightforwardly, "Listen, you don't have to worry about it. I can take care of myself."
"Not a problem, miss. Just checking." He ordered a few bottles and brought them back to the guys at his table. As he did so, Meredith looked casually over her shoulder, trying to get a second glance.
Now there's a guy I could go home with.
She got up from the bar, leaving the beer untouched and her would-be suitor baffled and embarrassed, and followed the other man to the table. "Well, Petrelli," she called out, using the name she'd heard the other man use to try and get his attention.
"It's Nathan, actually." He stepped away from his friends and leaned against the wall; somehow his nonchalance seemed more genuine, as he shifted against the exposed brick to get comfortable.
"I'm Meredith," she said, then immediately floundered for a reason to talk to him. This was not very well-thought-out, in retrospect. "Listen, I know... you were just trying to be a gentleman. I didn't mean to..."
"No offense meant, none taken, I understand," he said, holding up his hand and stifling a laugh. "It's okay, you didn't hurt my feelings."
"I just... I just wanted to make that clear," she blushed. That wasn't the case at all, and Nathan Petrelli knew it; she wanted to make an excuse to talk to him, to take in his bedroom eyes and chiseled jaw.
Sweet Jesus, Meredith thought, if only he had a mustache like Tom Selleck, he'd be my dream man.
"You're not from around here, are you?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.
"From Texas, originally," she confessed.
"Your accent gave you away," he told her.
She suddenly became self-conscious, afraid of revealing her white-trash background. It was time to change the subject. "So... Navy?"
"Yeah, I'm a pilot," he smiled. "I love to fly. I almost feel like I was born to do it."
"You like being up so high?" Meredith asked, sincere. "I've never flown before."
"It's amazing. I don't even know how to describe it to you. It gives you an entirely new perspective."
They chatted some more as Nathan's navy buddies disappeared in groups of twos and threes, until he was the only one left at the bar in uniform.
"Wow," he laughed. "I guess it's been so long since I've even talked to a pretty girl that I lost track of the time."
"I'm just pretty?" she teased. "Normally I get at least a 'gorgeous.'"
"Well, you are quite..." He paused and smiled. "Hot. That's really the only word I can think of to accurately describe you."
If only you knew, Meredith thought, biting her lower lip. She was hot, yes... and impulsive. She glanced back over her shoulder; Flint was still wrapped up in pool, and she tried not to worry about him causing trouble without her supervision. Instead, she took Nathan by the hand and started to lead him towards the women's restroom.
"Where are we... what are you doing?" he stammered momentarily.
She smiled in reply. "You said it's been a long time since you talked to a pretty girl," she cooed. She reached up to his face and brushed a fallen eyelash away from his cheek.
"So...?"
"So... let's talk," she straightened and whispered into his ear, "in private." Her breath was hot on his neck. "Come on, Top Gun."
For a moment he hesitated, but she stroked the back of his neck, and he was reminded again of how long he'd been in the Navy... too long. He followed her willing into the restroom, and they talked.