Fic: Home, Peter/Claire, PG-13
Title: Home
Pairing: Peter/Claire
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Angst, Incest
Author's Note: Written for the
12daysofpaire holiday challenge, the prompt was I'll be home for Christmas and I hope that this loose interpretation of that is acceptable. Unbetaed, because I think I missed the deadline for this now as it is and I'm sorry in advance for all the crazy cross posting.
If she tries hard enough, she can almost remember a time when home reminded her of a harsh, unrelenting sun and an almost unbearable humidity that never seemed to go away. She remembers mornings spent gathered around a tree and meals shared with loved ones, arguments over the best show to watch and the unimaginable stress associated with mastering the perfect cheer.
Even after she discovered who she really was, home still consisted of family and warmth and love and a thousand different things she never really appreciated until some strange men in suits stormed into her life and snatched it all away.
For a while after that home consisted of harsh walls and stony silences; posh decors that never really managed to conceal the thin layer of deceit that seemed to coat everything associated with the name Petrelli.
Everything except Peter.
In the Petrelli house, Christmas was just another excuse for an elaborate, formal event and no matter how hard she tried to be grateful for the new life and chance her bio-family represented, she was a Bennet through and through and she knew it was only a matter of time before another disaster came along to blow her house of cards away.
This time the disaster came in the form of a virus and before she knew it home consisted of whatever dump of a hotel Peter had managed to find for them. Ramen noodles shared in front of a television while waiting to see their faces on the evening news replaced elegant meals shared with their joke of a family around an overpriced table and it’s almost amusing that she’s able to master the intricate art of running for her life while she crashed and burned at learning the delicate game of politics her grandmother had tried to force upon her.
They may not have a large tree or shiny presents to commemorate the occasion but Peter’s arm wrapped around her waist feels like a gift in and of itself. It feels like an eternity since she’s actually had a place and people to call home but she’s alive and Peter’s still here with her and by this point in her life she’s learned to be grateful for what she has.
Peter had fallen asleep hours ago but she can’t seem to tear her eyes away from the snow she can see falling outside of their window. The sight reminds her of the snowman her and Lyle had managed to build with the pathetic amount of snow they’d received one year and she can almost hear the sound of Nathan laughing as Monty pegged her in the face with a snowball. Peter had protected her even then and after everything she’s lost she’s glad she still has one thing left that she can be grateful for.
She had hated the way the Petrelli’s celebrated Christmas, hated the fact that she wasn’t sitting in her messy living room unwrapping gifts with Lyle or baking her father’s favorite cinnamon raisin cookies with her mom, but she’d give anything to be sitting around that over-sized, over-priced table right now, listening to Nathan and her grandmother argue about politics while she shared exasperated looks with Peter. They may not have been ideal but they were family nonetheless and she can’t help but notice that a part of Peter died the day he buried his brother every time she looks in his eyes.
She isn’t sure who she’s crying for as she feels the tears stinging her eyes and she hates that the holidays still have the power to affect her this way. She’d learned to lock away thoughts like this along time ago in order to make it through the day but she just can’t wrap her mind around the fact that after all they’ve had taken away from them her and Peter are supposed to be the monsters.
She hates for Peter to see her this way but he’s always been able to tell when something’s wrong and tonight is no exception. She’s pathetically grateful for the distracting warmth and familiar smell of him as he presses closer to her in his sleep and as he groggily asks her what’s the matter she can feel a little bit of the weight lifted off of her chest.
“Nothing, go back to sleep baby.”
The lie slips from her mouth effortlessly and she can’t help but love him a little bit more when he doesn’t call her on it and presses a kiss to her shoulder instead. The warmth of his weight as he wraps himself around her does more to heal her than words ever could.
Home consists of the warmth and smell and love that surrounds her while she’s in his arms and right now, in this moment, she lets herself pretend that everything will be alright, as long as she has Peter.
Pairing: Peter/Claire
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Angst, Incest
Author's Note: Written for the
12daysofpaire holiday challenge, the prompt was I'll be home for Christmas and I hope that this loose interpretation of that is acceptable. Unbetaed, because I think I missed the deadline for this now as it is and I'm sorry in advance for all the crazy cross posting.
If she tries hard enough, she can almost remember a time when home reminded her of a harsh, unrelenting sun and an almost unbearable humidity that never seemed to go away. She remembers mornings spent gathered around a tree and meals shared with loved ones, arguments over the best show to watch and the unimaginable stress associated with mastering the perfect cheer.
Even after she discovered who she really was, home still consisted of family and warmth and love and a thousand different things she never really appreciated until some strange men in suits stormed into her life and snatched it all away.
For a while after that home consisted of harsh walls and stony silences; posh decors that never really managed to conceal the thin layer of deceit that seemed to coat everything associated with the name Petrelli.
Everything except Peter.
In the Petrelli house, Christmas was just another excuse for an elaborate, formal event and no matter how hard she tried to be grateful for the new life and chance her bio-family represented, she was a Bennet through and through and she knew it was only a matter of time before another disaster came along to blow her house of cards away.
This time the disaster came in the form of a virus and before she knew it home consisted of whatever dump of a hotel Peter had managed to find for them. Ramen noodles shared in front of a television while waiting to see their faces on the evening news replaced elegant meals shared with their joke of a family around an overpriced table and it’s almost amusing that she’s able to master the intricate art of running for her life while she crashed and burned at learning the delicate game of politics her grandmother had tried to force upon her.
They may not have a large tree or shiny presents to commemorate the occasion but Peter’s arm wrapped around her waist feels like a gift in and of itself. It feels like an eternity since she’s actually had a place and people to call home but she’s alive and Peter’s still here with her and by this point in her life she’s learned to be grateful for what she has.
Peter had fallen asleep hours ago but she can’t seem to tear her eyes away from the snow she can see falling outside of their window. The sight reminds her of the snowman her and Lyle had managed to build with the pathetic amount of snow they’d received one year and she can almost hear the sound of Nathan laughing as Monty pegged her in the face with a snowball. Peter had protected her even then and after everything she’s lost she’s glad she still has one thing left that she can be grateful for.
She had hated the way the Petrelli’s celebrated Christmas, hated the fact that she wasn’t sitting in her messy living room unwrapping gifts with Lyle or baking her father’s favorite cinnamon raisin cookies with her mom, but she’d give anything to be sitting around that over-sized, over-priced table right now, listening to Nathan and her grandmother argue about politics while she shared exasperated looks with Peter. They may not have been ideal but they were family nonetheless and she can’t help but notice that a part of Peter died the day he buried his brother every time she looks in his eyes.
She isn’t sure who she’s crying for as she feels the tears stinging her eyes and she hates that the holidays still have the power to affect her this way. She’d learned to lock away thoughts like this along time ago in order to make it through the day but she just can’t wrap her mind around the fact that after all they’ve had taken away from them her and Peter are supposed to be the monsters.
She hates for Peter to see her this way but he’s always been able to tell when something’s wrong and tonight is no exception. She’s pathetically grateful for the distracting warmth and familiar smell of him as he presses closer to her in his sleep and as he groggily asks her what’s the matter she can feel a little bit of the weight lifted off of her chest.
“Nothing, go back to sleep baby.”
The lie slips from her mouth effortlessly and she can’t help but love him a little bit more when he doesn’t call her on it and presses a kiss to her shoulder instead. The warmth of his weight as he wraps himself around her does more to heal her than words ever could.
Home consists of the warmth and smell and love that surrounds her while she’s in his arms and right now, in this moment, she lets herself pretend that everything will be alright, as long as she has Peter.