I spent five and a half hours today catching up on my friendspage. o_O (My inbox is going to have to wait until tomorrow; I’ll get back to e-mails then
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"You call this food?" Peter said, holding up the can of beans, disbelieving.
Claude shoveled another spoonful in his mouth with a cocked eyebrow, expression dripping the general just when I think you can't be more idiotic, you surprise me, boy sentiment he always seemed to wear when Peter asked him anything.
"More for me," Claude said when he'd finished chewing, reaching to grab the can out of Peter's hand, but Peter yanked his hand back, evading Claude's grip.
"Well, I'm hungry." Peter grabbed his spoon. "You haven't fed me in two days."I'm not your keeper, boy." Claude said with his mouth full, pointing his sauce-laden utensil at Peter; a few droplets of sauce flew off of it, speckling Peter's nose. "You can damn well feed yourself if you're going to complain about what I give you out of the kindness of my bloody heart
( ... )
Space above, space below, nothing in between except him and the meanderings of the stratosphere, vapor and wind and color bending to the horizon. It was quiet here, different from the quiet of vacuum but a silence that never quite permeated the cities below: the voices could be dimmed, if he let his ears rest, if he focused in on the currents of air criss-crossing the earth like the weaves of a immense and (nearly) invisible blanket.
Here, he was someone else, someone no greater or less than everything that surrounded him. With no one to compare himself to, no measurements to surpass, no surroundings to define himself in, he became nothing more than... himself. Suspended in a place where he didn't have to be anything else.
Heroes: Peter/Claude - dinner
Heroes: Peter/Mohinder - meeting up again
Superman: Clark Kent - alone time
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"You call this food?" Peter said, holding up the can of beans, disbelieving.
Claude shoveled another spoonful in his mouth with a cocked eyebrow, expression dripping the general just when I think you can't be more idiotic, you surprise me, boy sentiment he always seemed to wear when Peter asked him anything.
"More for me," Claude said when he'd finished chewing, reaching to grab the can out of Peter's hand, but Peter yanked his hand back, evading Claude's grip.
"Well, I'm hungry." Peter grabbed his spoon. "You haven't fed me in two days."I'm not your keeper, boy." Claude said with his mouth full, pointing his sauce-laden utensil at Peter; a few droplets of sauce flew off of it, speckling Peter's nose. "You can damn well feed yourself if you're going to complain about what I give you out of the kindness of my bloody heart ( ... )
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Space above, space below, nothing in between except him and the meanderings of the stratosphere, vapor and wind and color bending to the horizon. It was quiet here, different from the quiet of vacuum but a silence that never quite permeated the cities below: the voices could be dimmed, if he let his ears rest, if he focused in on the currents of air criss-crossing the earth like the weaves of a immense and (nearly) invisible blanket.
Here, he was someone else, someone no greater or less than everything that surrounded him. With no one to compare himself to, no measurements to surpass, no surroundings to define himself in, he became nothing more than... himself. Suspended in a place where he didn't have to be anything else.
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And, you! *blushes*
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