Rating: PG, mostly
Word Count: 409
Disclaimer: Heroes characters belong to Tim Kring.
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Summary: The first morning after doesn't go how Claude might've imagined, and not for the reason he might've thought.
(
Can't last much longer. )
Comments 17
There’s a nearly silent hum, and then a hand on his back, accompanied by the press of a rough cheek and soft hair.
Man, did I love htat line. So much.
This made me so happy and was just totally what I needed to read and in exchange I will write you all the pining you want.
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Yay pining! Aching, torturous, nigh unbearable UST ahoy!
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It is all I will write from now on!
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Anyway, this is gorgeous. This last line in particular:
After dark the rain tapers off into a cool, empty silence. Claude sniffs and frowns, pulling Peter closer.
Sweet and beautiful. The whole atmosphere is just perfect.
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Thanks very much! I think the atmosphere more than anything else is crucial to get right in fics like this, so I'm really glad this seems to work.
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Claude thinks about a bench in Central Park, and how very soaked it must be at this moment.
Intrigued by the idea that Claude has a particular bench. Regular homing-pigeon, Claude ;P
Smashing.
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Hee, well, I could imagine him figuring out which bench is the most suited for a night of invisible sleep, so, yeah.
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When the hand slides up to his shoulder, he wraps his own around it and closes his eyes.
I loved that.
Excellent!
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