Fic: Phenomenal
Rating: PG
Word Count: 725
Disclaimer: Heroes characters belong to Tim Kring.
A/N: How did I not write this fic the instant I heard about this? I'm flummoxed.
Summary: Post-series happy imaginary land. Peter and Claude take in a local natural phenomenon.
It takes a lot to distract Claude from a meal. Peter wonders sometimes if he was always like that, or if seven years of eating alone have gotten him out of the habit of glancing up from his plate once or twice. That’s why when Claude suddenly freezes mid-shovel, Peter does too.
“Pete, what day is it?” he asks with low intensity, gaze piercing into the middle distance.
“Uh, the twelfth. Why?”
“Shit!” Claude exclaims, leaping out of his seat. He pauses and looks at Peter. His face is alight with anxiety, “Get up, come on! We have to go!”
“What? Go where? Claude...” But the man is already yanking on Peter’s arm, pulling him up.
“Put on your shoes or we’ll miss it!”
“Miss what?!” Peter cries as he tugs them on and Claude all but dances with impatience, “What the hell are you talking about?”
The man grins, “You’ll see, but not if you don’t get a bloody move on, mate.”
Once Peter’s shoes are tied Claude snatches up his hand and marches through the front door, dragging Peter behind like a balloon. They go right past the elevator, Claude instead opting to thunder down the stairs skipping two or three steps in a bound. Peter almost topples into a wall more than once, but the grip on his hand never loosens.
They fly out into the street and Claude gives no more warning than a brief “Now we run” before breaking into a punishing sprint.
“Where exactly are we going, Claude?” Peter tries again even as he labors to keep up.
“Well, anywhere would work, really,” Claude replies, “But there’s a better place, the best place. I’ve been goin’ there for ages.”
Peter gives up trying to get any more information from Claude in favor of sucking in humid air to feed his muscles. He can already feel sweat forming on his brow, his body’s desperate attempt to combat the July evening’s heat. They run for what feels like ten blocks before Claude lets go of Peter’s hand and stops.
Peter wipes the sweat from his forehead and tries to find a breeze to lean into. “We done with the running now?”
“Yeah. And we’re right on time. Thank god I remembered, never would’ve forgiven myself otherwise.”
Peter tosses up his hands in frustration, “On time for what, Claude?”
The man gives him another little grin like he’s having trouble believing how slow Peter is. He rolls his eyes slightly and wraps a hand around Peter’s arm, turning him around. He points out into the valley between skyscrapers on either side of the street, “See that?”
“It’s the sun, Claude, so yeah, I see it.” It peeks out from behind the buildings on the left side. A low haze of cloud turns it into a white-gold disc just dim enough to look at without pain.
“Watch it now.”
Peter does. The sun continues to ease out from behind the buildings, closer to the horizon. “It’s... it’s setting right-”
“Between them, yeah. Twice a year it does that. Lines up perfectly with all the cross streets in the city.”
Peter glances around and finally notices the half dozen people around them, recording the sun in pictures and videos. They move into the street when the traffic signal changes and the cars roll to a halt. Claude’s hand slips down to wrap around Peter’s and lead him onto the double yellow line. The sun has slipped further now, turned a radiant orange in the haze, and from right here it’s almost dead center.
The traffic signal changes again and Peter moves to retreat to the sidewalk with the others, but Claude gives his hand a gentle tug.
The sun’s light makes him glow as he says, “Stay with me.”
Peter swallows, and steps closer. Turns again to the sun with Claude at his back. The traffic begins to flow, cars passing inches from where they stand. Claude holds Peter close with his other hand wrapped around his shoulder. They watch the sun kiss the horizon and slowly press into it, its descent perfectly framed by the man-made canyon.
“That’s the turning of the Earth,” Claude murmurs by Peter’s ear, “That’s everything. Took billions of years to happen, but it’s all lined up. For this moment here.”
Peter squeezes Claude’s hand, “Thanks for showing me.”
Word Count: 725
Disclaimer: Heroes characters belong to Tim Kring.
A/N: How did I not write this fic the instant I heard about this? I'm flummoxed.
Summary: Post-series happy imaginary land. Peter and Claude take in a local natural phenomenon.
It takes a lot to distract Claude from a meal. Peter wonders sometimes if he was always like that, or if seven years of eating alone have gotten him out of the habit of glancing up from his plate once or twice. That’s why when Claude suddenly freezes mid-shovel, Peter does too.
“Pete, what day is it?” he asks with low intensity, gaze piercing into the middle distance.
“Uh, the twelfth. Why?”
“Shit!” Claude exclaims, leaping out of his seat. He pauses and looks at Peter. His face is alight with anxiety, “Get up, come on! We have to go!”
“What? Go where? Claude...” But the man is already yanking on Peter’s arm, pulling him up.
“Put on your shoes or we’ll miss it!”
“Miss what?!” Peter cries as he tugs them on and Claude all but dances with impatience, “What the hell are you talking about?”
The man grins, “You’ll see, but not if you don’t get a bloody move on, mate.”
Once Peter’s shoes are tied Claude snatches up his hand and marches through the front door, dragging Peter behind like a balloon. They go right past the elevator, Claude instead opting to thunder down the stairs skipping two or three steps in a bound. Peter almost topples into a wall more than once, but the grip on his hand never loosens.
They fly out into the street and Claude gives no more warning than a brief “Now we run” before breaking into a punishing sprint.
“Where exactly are we going, Claude?” Peter tries again even as he labors to keep up.
“Well, anywhere would work, really,” Claude replies, “But there’s a better place, the best place. I’ve been goin’ there for ages.”
Peter gives up trying to get any more information from Claude in favor of sucking in humid air to feed his muscles. He can already feel sweat forming on his brow, his body’s desperate attempt to combat the July evening’s heat. They run for what feels like ten blocks before Claude lets go of Peter’s hand and stops.
Peter wipes the sweat from his forehead and tries to find a breeze to lean into. “We done with the running now?”
“Yeah. And we’re right on time. Thank god I remembered, never would’ve forgiven myself otherwise.”
Peter tosses up his hands in frustration, “On time for what, Claude?”
The man gives him another little grin like he’s having trouble believing how slow Peter is. He rolls his eyes slightly and wraps a hand around Peter’s arm, turning him around. He points out into the valley between skyscrapers on either side of the street, “See that?”
“It’s the sun, Claude, so yeah, I see it.” It peeks out from behind the buildings on the left side. A low haze of cloud turns it into a white-gold disc just dim enough to look at without pain.
“Watch it now.”
Peter does. The sun continues to ease out from behind the buildings, closer to the horizon. “It’s... it’s setting right-”
“Between them, yeah. Twice a year it does that. Lines up perfectly with all the cross streets in the city.”
Peter glances around and finally notices the half dozen people around them, recording the sun in pictures and videos. They move into the street when the traffic signal changes and the cars roll to a halt. Claude’s hand slips down to wrap around Peter’s and lead him onto the double yellow line. The sun has slipped further now, turned a radiant orange in the haze, and from right here it’s almost dead center.
The traffic signal changes again and Peter moves to retreat to the sidewalk with the others, but Claude gives his hand a gentle tug.
The sun’s light makes him glow as he says, “Stay with me.”
Peter swallows, and steps closer. Turns again to the sun with Claude at his back. The traffic begins to flow, cars passing inches from where they stand. Claude holds Peter close with his other hand wrapped around his shoulder. They watch the sun kiss the horizon and slowly press into it, its descent perfectly framed by the man-made canyon.
“That’s the turning of the Earth,” Claude murmurs by Peter’s ear, “That’s everything. Took billions of years to happen, but it’s all lined up. For this moment here.”
Peter squeezes Claude’s hand, “Thanks for showing me.”