drabble: blueblood (nathan/claire)
"Blueblood," Nathan/Claire, PG-13. He doesn't follow. Warning: incest. For the lyrics meme, prompt by kathrynthegr8.
an: posted here because my lj ocd demands I archive everything I freaking post.
Keep a handle on her, his mother comments once; he dismisses the thought that follows.
Later, at some point after the uniform and dog are taken from her, she slips into New York under his nose. There are no college classes, no corner diners with girls her age; he only finds out she's there months after the fact, catching a stride he knows across the street. Peter knows nothing. His mother reminds him that there’s no Petrelli daughter when he slips Claire into conversation in a demand to find out what she knows about this.
Claire Bennet pops up periodically in the smaller papers on the arm of an assortment of young men as she goes through a painter, the owner of an art gallery, a series of lesser male socialites that she discards the last bit of her accent for and then discards in turn. Peter still knows nothing between patients, and Nathan watches through the papers as Claire decides that lawyers are what she's interested in, goes from the bottom of the pile to the top while more people decide that her ability to keep a secret makes up for her lack of a background.
No phone call, no visit; he learns how to pick her name out of the paper as it shows up more regularly.
When he shows up for a dinner with the mayor, she's on the arm of the lawyer from Brooklyn that Nathan knows only because people are telling Nathan about him. She only brings out the accent to greet Senator Petrelli with a smile and her fingers trace lines across the other man’s arm as Nathan performs the niceties.
Claire ignores him from across the table.
Later, when he locks fingers around her wrist, two glasses too many in his system and chest constricted, she slips out of his grasp, blends into a group of women like she was born to be there. He circles, waits, works his way through another glass and starts to herd her off to the side, where a corner slants off towards the exit. When she begins to drift out of his reach, he digs fingers into her arm and keeps her moving away from the rest.
Manages to crowd her back, body crushing hers to the wall, the only way to keep her where he wants her.
“Well?” she asks, muscles coiled against him, eyes daring.
Blonde hair catches under his fingers before he smoothes it down again, steps back, away.
Claire shrugs like he does and slips away; he doesn’t follow.
She stays with the lawyer from Brooklyn, sending Nathan a wedding invitation as a father’s day card.
an: posted here because my lj ocd demands I archive everything I freaking post.
Keep a handle on her, his mother comments once; he dismisses the thought that follows.
Later, at some point after the uniform and dog are taken from her, she slips into New York under his nose. There are no college classes, no corner diners with girls her age; he only finds out she's there months after the fact, catching a stride he knows across the street. Peter knows nothing. His mother reminds him that there’s no Petrelli daughter when he slips Claire into conversation in a demand to find out what she knows about this.
Claire Bennet pops up periodically in the smaller papers on the arm of an assortment of young men as she goes through a painter, the owner of an art gallery, a series of lesser male socialites that she discards the last bit of her accent for and then discards in turn. Peter still knows nothing between patients, and Nathan watches through the papers as Claire decides that lawyers are what she's interested in, goes from the bottom of the pile to the top while more people decide that her ability to keep a secret makes up for her lack of a background.
No phone call, no visit; he learns how to pick her name out of the paper as it shows up more regularly.
When he shows up for a dinner with the mayor, she's on the arm of the lawyer from Brooklyn that Nathan knows only because people are telling Nathan about him. She only brings out the accent to greet Senator Petrelli with a smile and her fingers trace lines across the other man’s arm as Nathan performs the niceties.
Claire ignores him from across the table.
Later, when he locks fingers around her wrist, two glasses too many in his system and chest constricted, she slips out of his grasp, blends into a group of women like she was born to be there. He circles, waits, works his way through another glass and starts to herd her off to the side, where a corner slants off towards the exit. When she begins to drift out of his reach, he digs fingers into her arm and keeps her moving away from the rest.
Manages to crowd her back, body crushing hers to the wall, the only way to keep her where he wants her.
“Well?” she asks, muscles coiled against him, eyes daring.
Blonde hair catches under his fingers before he smoothes it down again, steps back, away.
Claire shrugs like he does and slips away; he doesn’t follow.
She stays with the lawyer from Brooklyn, sending Nathan a wedding invitation as a father’s day card.