Fic: The Joy of Pizza (Peter/Claude)
Title: The Joy of Pizza
Pairing: Claude/Peter
Rating: PG
Summary: Valentine's Day fic. Peter gets Claude a very special present.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own words.
The first thing Claude noticed as he entered Peter’s apartment was the enticing aroma of tomato sauce and lightly baked bread. He recognized it immediately, the scent being one of the most familiar to anyone who appreciated good food. One would think that after so many years of stealing slices off other people’s plates, he might have gotten just a bit tired of it, but there was something about that special blend of cheeses and meats sitting atop perfectly crisp bread that always set his palate aquiver. Well, quality pizza, at least. Some versions that people dared to name by that honorable term weren’t worth bothering with. But his nose told him that this was the kind he should very much pay attention to. Closing the door behind him, he looked around for Peter, but the man wasn’t visible (or invisible for that matter). He rushed to the kitchen and stopped cold upon seeing what awaited him.
On the table, lay a box. A pizza box, to be precise, but it wasn’t any ordinary pizza box. It’s cardboard lid didn’t read Domino’s or Pizza Hut or even Uno’s, which Peter was prone to buy for him every Friday, although he never asked for it. This was much better than Uno’s. In fancy, swirling letters, the box proudly proclaimed itself to be from Giordano’s, home of Chicago’s World Famous Stuffed Pizza and his personal favorite pizza place. The fact that he’d never mentioned this to Peter didn’t faze him for long. One of the hazards of living with a telepath was never being able to assume that a thought was completely private. But never mind that. He was in New York. Giordano’s was in Chicago. Peter couldn’t possible have... could he? Maybe it wasn’t really Giordano’s pizza. Maybe it was just a ruse. Claude opened the box. Inside lay a beautifully crafted deep dish crust filled with creamy, red sauce. As he picked up a slice he almost moaned upon seeing the sausage, peppers, mushrooms and onions stuffed inside. The Special. His favorite.
“Are you going to eat that pizza or worship it?”
Claude turned around (not to quickly, he might drop the pizza) and saw Peter standing at the kitchen entrance, his face lit up by that little grin that tried to be cocky but never quite made it there. His face was too cute for that.
“Did you fly to Chicago for this?” Claude asked.
“Maybe.”
Peter looked inordinately proud of himself.
“You flew over 700 miles just to get me a pizza?”
“I thought it’d be a good present. For, you know, Valentine’s Day.”
Well. That was just... romantic. He was really quite amazed, floored even. Not that he really cared for such sappy gestures. He’d always avoided that saccharine infested “holiday” as much as he possibly could. The whole concept sneaking up like this without even the slightest warning was more than a little disconcerting. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He knew how he should feel, knew he should turn on his heels and run away as fast as possible. Staying meant closeness, it meant opening up, hell, it meant trust and that was one sentiment he swore he’d never indulge in again. This was supposed to be no more than a little dalliance, a bit of fun before he inevitably sank back into the shadows. Friends with benefits, except that those always went as rotten as week old garbage, something he should have certainly learned by now. And yet, his feet weren’t moving. Peter was coming closer, one step, two steps, soon he was right in front of him, his face inches away, leaning in and... Taking a bite from his pizza!
“You cheeky bastard!” Claude cried out, quickly snatching the pizza away from him.
Peter grinned through his chewing. “Well, you weren’t eating it.”
Claude narrowed his eyes at him, but even as he tried to glare he realized that he wasn’t really angry. He never could stay mad at Peter for long lately. It was a little unnerving, but he’d figure it out later. He had a higher priority at present. After Peter swallowed, Claude pulled him forward and kissed him, coaxing his mouth open, licking and teasing until Peter was leaning into him, his hands gripping his back in a clear plea for more. After what Claude judged was a suitable amount of time, he pulled back. Untangling himself from Peter’s hands, he grabbed the pizza box and moved into the living room.
“What are you doing?” Peter asked as Claude flicked on the TV.
Claude glanced up at Peter’s flabbergasted exclamation and took a mouthful from the mutilated pizza slice in his hand.
“Eating my pizza. You going to stand there staring at me or are you going to come here and keep me company?”
Peter stared at him for a moment, but then he shook his head, an amused smile growing on his lips. The boy was really too easy, Claude thought as Peter dropped on the couch beside him. It’s one of the things he loved best about him.
Pairing: Claude/Peter
Rating: PG
Summary: Valentine's Day fic. Peter gets Claude a very special present.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own words.
The first thing Claude noticed as he entered Peter’s apartment was the enticing aroma of tomato sauce and lightly baked bread. He recognized it immediately, the scent being one of the most familiar to anyone who appreciated good food. One would think that after so many years of stealing slices off other people’s plates, he might have gotten just a bit tired of it, but there was something about that special blend of cheeses and meats sitting atop perfectly crisp bread that always set his palate aquiver. Well, quality pizza, at least. Some versions that people dared to name by that honorable term weren’t worth bothering with. But his nose told him that this was the kind he should very much pay attention to. Closing the door behind him, he looked around for Peter, but the man wasn’t visible (or invisible for that matter). He rushed to the kitchen and stopped cold upon seeing what awaited him.
On the table, lay a box. A pizza box, to be precise, but it wasn’t any ordinary pizza box. It’s cardboard lid didn’t read Domino’s or Pizza Hut or even Uno’s, which Peter was prone to buy for him every Friday, although he never asked for it. This was much better than Uno’s. In fancy, swirling letters, the box proudly proclaimed itself to be from Giordano’s, home of Chicago’s World Famous Stuffed Pizza and his personal favorite pizza place. The fact that he’d never mentioned this to Peter didn’t faze him for long. One of the hazards of living with a telepath was never being able to assume that a thought was completely private. But never mind that. He was in New York. Giordano’s was in Chicago. Peter couldn’t possible have... could he? Maybe it wasn’t really Giordano’s pizza. Maybe it was just a ruse. Claude opened the box. Inside lay a beautifully crafted deep dish crust filled with creamy, red sauce. As he picked up a slice he almost moaned upon seeing the sausage, peppers, mushrooms and onions stuffed inside. The Special. His favorite.
“Are you going to eat that pizza or worship it?”
Claude turned around (not to quickly, he might drop the pizza) and saw Peter standing at the kitchen entrance, his face lit up by that little grin that tried to be cocky but never quite made it there. His face was too cute for that.
“Did you fly to Chicago for this?” Claude asked.
“Maybe.”
Peter looked inordinately proud of himself.
“You flew over 700 miles just to get me a pizza?”
“I thought it’d be a good present. For, you know, Valentine’s Day.”
Well. That was just... romantic. He was really quite amazed, floored even. Not that he really cared for such sappy gestures. He’d always avoided that saccharine infested “holiday” as much as he possibly could. The whole concept sneaking up like this without even the slightest warning was more than a little disconcerting. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He knew how he should feel, knew he should turn on his heels and run away as fast as possible. Staying meant closeness, it meant opening up, hell, it meant trust and that was one sentiment he swore he’d never indulge in again. This was supposed to be no more than a little dalliance, a bit of fun before he inevitably sank back into the shadows. Friends with benefits, except that those always went as rotten as week old garbage, something he should have certainly learned by now. And yet, his feet weren’t moving. Peter was coming closer, one step, two steps, soon he was right in front of him, his face inches away, leaning in and... Taking a bite from his pizza!
“You cheeky bastard!” Claude cried out, quickly snatching the pizza away from him.
Peter grinned through his chewing. “Well, you weren’t eating it.”
Claude narrowed his eyes at him, but even as he tried to glare he realized that he wasn’t really angry. He never could stay mad at Peter for long lately. It was a little unnerving, but he’d figure it out later. He had a higher priority at present. After Peter swallowed, Claude pulled him forward and kissed him, coaxing his mouth open, licking and teasing until Peter was leaning into him, his hands gripping his back in a clear plea for more. After what Claude judged was a suitable amount of time, he pulled back. Untangling himself from Peter’s hands, he grabbed the pizza box and moved into the living room.
“What are you doing?” Peter asked as Claude flicked on the TV.
Claude glanced up at Peter’s flabbergasted exclamation and took a mouthful from the mutilated pizza slice in his hand.
“Eating my pizza. You going to stand there staring at me or are you going to come here and keep me company?”
Peter stared at him for a moment, but then he shook his head, an amused smile growing on his lips. The boy was really too easy, Claude thought as Peter dropped on the couch beside him. It’s one of the things he loved best about him.