Peter/Claude: Two prompt fics
Titles: Odditorium, Challenge
Author: lotus0kid
Rating: PG, R
Disclaimer: See anything you recognize? It's not mine.
Characters/Pairings: Peter/Claude, Claire
Table/Prompt: Table 3, Prompts 4 and 12
Word Count: 508, 225
Summary: Fics for prompt words Belong and Rise
Author's Notes: Some adult content in the second one.
“Once you’ve seen a man fly, ‘s a little hard to find the wonder in a man who can pull his lower lip up over his nose, yeah?”
“Yeah, I guess.” The fact didn’t seem to stop Claude from bounding between the exhibits, peering through the glass with blatant curiosity to give each shrunken head, medieval torture tool, and fertility statue a thorough looking-over. Peter felt somewhat superfluous.
“Still, on the other hand, you can learn anything you care to know about a culture by what it finds odd or disgusting.” He turned away from a taxidermied, cyclopic kitten and nearly ran into the eight foot eleven inch, life-size statue of Robert Wadlow. He paused, gazing up at the late giant’s placid, wax face. “Or what they find amazing. Worth noting.” His voice had taken a distant, thoughtful quality. He turned to Peter, “How much d’you think people would pay to see an invisible man?”
Peter blinked, strangely disturbed the question. He was bombarded with unwelcome images of Claude up on a stage, doing tricks, his ability exploited for money. “I- I don’t know.”
“Put it this way, would they be amazed or disgusted by me? And what about you? Would they embrace you? Be like Mister Wadlow here, and go on tours round the world. Meet presidents and kings. Get a brass statue in your hometown. Entertain the masses with your specialness.”
Claude had stepped closer as he talked, eyes fixing on Peter with the same burning curiosity he gave the albino giraffe and the Mercedes Benz made out of popsicle sticks. Robert Ripley’s celebration of the weird and wonderful felt suddenly oppressive to the empath. “I... I don’t want to do any of that. I just want to be me.”
Claude chuckled, “Don’t we all? But it’s not that easy for us, is it?”
“No.” Embarrassment flooded Peter at the weakness in his voice. But when he could stand to meet Claude’s gaze again, he found the fires banked to something not unlike sympathy.
“You’ll be all right, Pete. Your kind usually is.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. And anyway, ‘s not like I’m going anywhere.”
“You’re not?” It’s always a tense point between them, the unknown quantity it would take to drive the invisible man away, or keep him from running.
“Nah. You got me curious, mate. I want to see what happens next. Besides, you don’t duck out on one of your own, not if you can help it.” He turned away, tight smile stretching across his face, “Listen to me, would ya’? Might be seven years ago, ta’ hear me talkin’ like this. But then, somethin’ about you, Pete... Makes a person want to pitch in, look out for ya’. Must be ‘cause you look like you’d bump your head and die if left alone for a whole minute.”
Peter was a little too bewildered upon hearing Claude declare his loyalty to absorb the insult. “Uh, thanks,” he managed.
Claude shrugged, frowning uncomfortably, “Come on, mate, gift shop’s this way. You can steal us some T-shirts.”
***
It’s a daily challenge, figuring out what it will take to make Peter stand up and fight back. Snarl and snap with dark, flashing eyes and hopefully an ability or two. Sometimes all it takes are a few cutting insults to his personality, his family, his lifestyle. Sometimes the empath has to drag himself up off the ground with a face full of blood first. But up he gets, and Claude is treated to a sight he doubts many others get to see- Peter’s fury. Any injury he receives at the empath’s hands is worth it, just to be the one to see him break free.
---
It’s a nightly challenge, figuring out what it will take to make Claude climb out from behind his surly exterior and show Peter what’s inside. Smile without irony and kiss with soft, half-lidded eyes and hopefully a caress or two. Sometimes all it takes is lacing his fingers with Claude’s, or even just a breath on the man’s neck. Sometimes he’ll climb into Peter’s bed an hour before dawn, growl “Shut it” to any sound Peter makes beyond sighs of pleasure. But here he is again, treating Peter to a sight he doubts anyone’s seen in years- Claude’s passion. And it’s worth everything that happens during the day, just to be the one to see him break free.
Author: lotus0kid
Rating: PG, R
Disclaimer: See anything you recognize? It's not mine.
Characters/Pairings: Peter/Claude, Claire
Table/Prompt: Table 3, Prompts 4 and 12
Word Count: 508, 225
Summary: Fics for prompt words Belong and Rise
Author's Notes: Some adult content in the second one.
“Once you’ve seen a man fly, ‘s a little hard to find the wonder in a man who can pull his lower lip up over his nose, yeah?”
“Yeah, I guess.” The fact didn’t seem to stop Claude from bounding between the exhibits, peering through the glass with blatant curiosity to give each shrunken head, medieval torture tool, and fertility statue a thorough looking-over. Peter felt somewhat superfluous.
“Still, on the other hand, you can learn anything you care to know about a culture by what it finds odd or disgusting.” He turned away from a taxidermied, cyclopic kitten and nearly ran into the eight foot eleven inch, life-size statue of Robert Wadlow. He paused, gazing up at the late giant’s placid, wax face. “Or what they find amazing. Worth noting.” His voice had taken a distant, thoughtful quality. He turned to Peter, “How much d’you think people would pay to see an invisible man?”
Peter blinked, strangely disturbed the question. He was bombarded with unwelcome images of Claude up on a stage, doing tricks, his ability exploited for money. “I- I don’t know.”
“Put it this way, would they be amazed or disgusted by me? And what about you? Would they embrace you? Be like Mister Wadlow here, and go on tours round the world. Meet presidents and kings. Get a brass statue in your hometown. Entertain the masses with your specialness.”
Claude had stepped closer as he talked, eyes fixing on Peter with the same burning curiosity he gave the albino giraffe and the Mercedes Benz made out of popsicle sticks. Robert Ripley’s celebration of the weird and wonderful felt suddenly oppressive to the empath. “I... I don’t want to do any of that. I just want to be me.”
Claude chuckled, “Don’t we all? But it’s not that easy for us, is it?”
“No.” Embarrassment flooded Peter at the weakness in his voice. But when he could stand to meet Claude’s gaze again, he found the fires banked to something not unlike sympathy.
“You’ll be all right, Pete. Your kind usually is.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. And anyway, ‘s not like I’m going anywhere.”
“You’re not?” It’s always a tense point between them, the unknown quantity it would take to drive the invisible man away, or keep him from running.
“Nah. You got me curious, mate. I want to see what happens next. Besides, you don’t duck out on one of your own, not if you can help it.” He turned away, tight smile stretching across his face, “Listen to me, would ya’? Might be seven years ago, ta’ hear me talkin’ like this. But then, somethin’ about you, Pete... Makes a person want to pitch in, look out for ya’. Must be ‘cause you look like you’d bump your head and die if left alone for a whole minute.”
Peter was a little too bewildered upon hearing Claude declare his loyalty to absorb the insult. “Uh, thanks,” he managed.
Claude shrugged, frowning uncomfortably, “Come on, mate, gift shop’s this way. You can steal us some T-shirts.”
***
It’s a daily challenge, figuring out what it will take to make Peter stand up and fight back. Snarl and snap with dark, flashing eyes and hopefully an ability or two. Sometimes all it takes are a few cutting insults to his personality, his family, his lifestyle. Sometimes the empath has to drag himself up off the ground with a face full of blood first. But up he gets, and Claude is treated to a sight he doubts many others get to see- Peter’s fury. Any injury he receives at the empath’s hands is worth it, just to be the one to see him break free.
---
It’s a nightly challenge, figuring out what it will take to make Claude climb out from behind his surly exterior and show Peter what’s inside. Smile without irony and kiss with soft, half-lidded eyes and hopefully a caress or two. Sometimes all it takes is lacing his fingers with Claude’s, or even just a breath on the man’s neck. Sometimes he’ll climb into Peter’s bed an hour before dawn, growl “Shut it” to any sound Peter makes beyond sighs of pleasure. But here he is again, treating Peter to a sight he doubts anyone’s seen in years- Claude’s passion. And it’s worth everything that happens during the day, just to be the one to see him break free.