nathan/claire, valentine's day challenge
Title: Watch As the Sky Closes In
Author: missaliceblue
Pairing: Nathan/Claire.
Rating: NC-17. Sex. Incest. Etc.
Status: Completed One-Shot
Word Count: around 6300
Summary: Written for cheer_and_fly's Valentine's Challenge. Squeaking under the wire. For joanna_484.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
“What, no limo?” She asked Nathan this when she saw him on the airport curb.
“Limo’s for special occasions…and church.” He answered her dryly.
“Hm. Interesting.” She slung her bag into the waiting trunk of his Bentley. “So where’s Peter?”
Nathan didn’t answer, just closed her door after handing her into her seat. She watched him walk around the front of his vehicle, prim and polished in his dark navy suit.
He got back into the car, and avoided her gaze.
“Nathan. Where’s Peter? He usually picks me up.”
Nathan cleared his throat. “Gone…he’s gone.”
-----
If Peter was gone then there wasn't much point to all of this.
"Peter's gone?" Her mother's voice sounded confused even through the phone.
"Mm."
"I thought you went to visit him specifically."
She paused. "I did. He's gone, Mom. He left a couple days ago."
"That's a little weird. Didn't you know?"
Claire was silent.
"So are you going to come home?" Her mother's voice was anxious now, as it always was. She didn't like it when people were missing from her house.
Claire raised her eyes, to the man behind the desk in front of her. His leather chair was tipped back, one leg bent over another. He nodded at her very, very slightly, without removing his hands from behind his head.
"Yeah. No, it's okay. Nathan's going to take me."
-----
"I don't like this house," said Claire.
"It's not a house. It's a brownstone."
"It's a condo."
"Claire." He looked at her like he was smiling, but he wasn't. "This is not a condo, okay? Christ."
"If you share walls it's a condo."
He looked at her, one dark eyebrow furrowed. "Are you going to be this antagonistic for the rest of your visit?"
She spread her hands. "Hey, I'm just calling it like I see it."
He nodded and seemed amused at something...what, she didn't know.
"Are you sure it's okay if I stay with you? I can go, like, now.
"So go," he said nonchalantly.
She was silent for a moment. "I don't want to go."
"So stay."
-----
Nathan's new place was devoid of the beautiful trappings that his former home had - trappings that Claire recognised as a veneer that Heidi had provided.
"It's so dark in here," Claire complained, when she first walked in. "You're not depressed again, are you?" Her voice sounded confrontational to her own ears.
"I like the dark," said Nathan simply.
Claire coughed, and walked into the living room, where a dark leather couch and an equally dark coffee table were the only furnishings. Her boots slid across the wooden floor, and she approached the windows. Her fingers sunk into the heavy brown fabric, its' weight soft but noticeable in her hand.
She pulled open the curtains and let the light flood into the living room.
"God." He spoke with a soft irritation.
She looked out of the window for a moment. "Seriously. You're not, are you?" Claire spoke to the windows.
She turned her eyes towards his. He smiled at her very slightly. "No. I'm fine."
-----
"Villa Mos...Mosco..."
"Villa Mosconi," he said as they got out of the car.
"I would've said it right eventually," she said poutily. It's funny. Most people didn't get her teasing manner right away. If she would've said that and pouted to West he would have been apologising all over himself for making her sad. No, Nathan got it. She didn't have to explain.
"Remember what I said about antagonism? We have a non-aggression pact."
"I'm not a political campaign."
"Sure you are. You're going to love this place," he said as they walked into the busy restaurant, easily changing the conversation. He always made her forget.
"I thought you were going to cook for me. You said you can cook."
"And I can. But I don't feel like it today."
"Why not?"
They were seated, and his eyes wouldn't look at hers until she dropped the subject.
"Are you glad you have your job back?"
"Are you glad to be back in school?"
That was easy enough. "No. I hate it."
Nathan ate his steak with such precision and control. She was slopping sauce onto the table whenever she tried to get a forkful. She hated that she felt stupid in front of him.
"Why?"
"What do you mean, why?" she asked.
"Why do you hate school?"
She blinked at him. "You went to high school, didn't you?"
He nodded.
"Then you know."
"No, I do not. I enjoyed high school very much."
Claire almost snorted. "I bet you did. I bet you were like, prom king football-player person."
Nathan moved his lips, just enough to acknowledge that he'd heard her, but he didn't lift his eyes to hers.
"Didn't you ever feel awkward or...like...you had a secret to hide that everyone would hate you for if they knew?" She asked.
He paused for a moment, and then he chuckled. "You sound like Peter."
It still hurt a little, to hear his name. To know that he hadn't bothered to stick around even though he knew she was coming. "What do you mean?"
Nathan wiped his lips on his napkin. "I mean, if you're hating school or feeling awkward, it's not everyone else's fault. You allow people to dictate their treatment of you. If you feel picked on and intimidated, it's only because you're letting yourself be so."
She put her fork down, fought the rising irritation in her chest. "Excuse me? Exactly what do you think I should do? Make people respect me?"
Nathan went back to cutting up his steak. "Exactly."
Claire scoffed. "And what exactly do I do if people won't?
"Destroy them, Claire." And then he stared at her, didn't crack a smile even when she laughed, thinking it was a joke.
-----
"Got your stuff?" He stood by the front door of his house. "That's a lot of flying for you...twice in two days."
"Yeah, well. Your brother sucks," said Claire, as she rolled her suitcase toward the door and out of the small guest room she had stayed in. It had a white down comforter, iron headboard, and sunlight in the morning.
"He's an idealist." Nathan shrugged, and picked up her suitcase easily with one hand. "I don't know where it came from."
"What do you mean?" Claire asked as she shut Nathan's door behind them.
"I mean, the Petrelli's are a realistic sort of clan. We get it done. We're do-ers."
"Peter's a do-er," she said a bit defensively.
"Peter's a do-gooder," said Nathan as he tossed her suitcase into the trunk of the car. "There's a big difference."
"I'm glad he is," she said heatedly. "He saved my life, you know."
"Did he now," said Nathan. He was driving her to the airport in his black Bentley. "I've heard you say that a couple times now and I'm not sure what you mean by it."
"Uh...'Save the Cheerleader, Save the World'? My high school with me and him all bloody in it? Ring any bells?"
"Oh, that," he said lightly. "Well. I guess he did run down there like a fool. But how do you know that you wouldn't have been able to save yourself?"
She looked at Nathan like he was crazy.
"Seriously. Why couldn't the cheerleader save herself? I don't recall him doing anything in particular to save you, did he? You've got legs."
"He saved me." It was all she could choke out at the moment.
"Sure he did."
“I couldn’t have done it. I'm not strong enough.”
The ugliest look she’d ever seen from him passed over his face. “Bull. You’re my daughter.”
She swallowed deeply. Claire raised her hand to her mouth and looked out the window. "You were right. Your house isn't a condo."
"Glad you agree," said Nathan lightly. "What brought on the epiphany?
"You have a guest room," said Claire. "Condos don't have guest rooms."
"I don't have a guest room."
Claire rolled her eyes. "Then where did I sleep last night?"
"In your room."
-----
"Aw, my baby girl!" Her mother hugged her tightly, patting her hair and her face and her shoulders. "I missed you!"
"I only left yesterday," mumbled Claire.
"Almost a whole day," said her mother stubbornly. "I miss you when you're gone, hon."
"I know, Mom," said Claire a little gruffly.
Her mother tskd. "That New York air. It always does something to you. Whenever you go there you come back pissy."
-----
West stared at her in English and he walked in ever-tightening circles around her in the lunchroom, only to dash off if she finally grew frustrated and spun around in her chair to look at him.
She ate with May every day instead, in the west hall staircase. They never talked much. May had her secrets to keep, and so did Claire.
May bit into her salad daintily. "That boy has got it for you."
"Gross." She was so, so over him.
"Wasn't gross last year," said May plainly.
"I know, but..." Claire paused and sipped at her soda. "I don't know. One day I just stopped liking him. It was fast. Like...boom. And then there was nothing."
"Maybe you like girls," said May.
Claire just laughed. "Nah. It's not that."
“You’re looking for the one you belong with. Right?” May looked at her with raised eyebrows.
“I guess. I mean, I think I know…or I thought I did.”
-----
Claire -
I am so sorry that I missed you last week. I have been spending time in Ireland with Caitlin - you remember I told you about her? She's great, I know you'll like her a lot. She gets me. She doesn't ask questions. I think sometimes that that is the most that you and I could ever ask for.
I hope school is going well. I hope you're liking the West Coast. Nathan says you have a boyfriend - I hope he's treating you right! The next time I come through L.A. maybe we can hang out together. I might not be by a computer for a while because Caitlin and I are going to do some traveling, so if you reply and I don't answer don't feel bad. Anyway it should be really fun. I'm looking forward to some quiet times ahead where I can just enjoy myself, being young and all that. I hope you can do the same.
Love, Peter
-----
"I want to go to New York again."
"Honey, you were just there." Her mom sounded hurt.
"So what? Is it so crazy that I want to get to know my father?"
Her mother put a hand on her hip. "Your father is upstairs getting ready for work."
Claire shook her head. "I know that, okay? I know that. But I still want to get to know him."
Her mother look dubious. "Well we can't keep paying for those flights. Your dad's not making money like he used to."
"He'll pay. I know it."
-----
"You want to what?"
"Visit," she said.
"Peter's in Ireland still."
"I want to visit you, silly," she said teasingly.
"Don't do that," said Nathan sharply. "Don't."
She ignored that comment. "I really do though."
"What are you running away from, Claire?" His words cut through her light banter, and she could feel the ripping.
"I want...I don't know what I want. But I don't want this." She sounded ridiculous and she knew it. Didn't even know what she was saying.
He paused, and for a long time there was silence on the phone between them. She could hear the squeak of his chair as he shifted then sighed.
"Fine. I'll send you a ticket. Your dad shouldn't go broke over this."
When they hung up she cried and she didn't know why.
-----
"Overnight, again? What's the point, Claire?" Her mother had that incredulous bend in the corner of her mouth.
Her dad shushed her though, pulled her back to the stove where the french toast was sizzling. He murmured words and that was all that was ever said about it, ever again.
-----
"What's going on?" He was standing on the curb, by his Bentley. He was wearing a dark coat and a suit. She'd only ever seen him in a suit.
"Nice to see you too."
"I'm sorry, would you like a hug? A parade and flowers, perhaps?" He grabbed her bag off of her shoulder. "Damn, Claire. What's in this?"
"My Supergirl suit," said Claire sarcastically. "I'm moving in with my flying Superman Dad."
"Right." His tone was sarcastic too, and it jolted her, a little, to hear the same contemptuous lilt in the back of his throat.
-----
They drove back to the brownstone apartment, and when Claire walked in the same dark, cavernous hallways greeted her.
"How long's it been since you saw Monty and Simon?" she asked.
"How long has it been since Peter bothered to talk to you?"
Her back was to him when he asked her the question, and she stiffened, every pore in her body rigid and for a second she longed to turn and slap his face. She counted to eight, slowly, and eased her shoulders down.
She turned to face him, slowly. "Two weeks."
Nathan's face was undecipherable. He exhaled, and dropped her bag to the floor. "He's got a new girlfriend. Peter's like that when he meets someone. Makes everything else just fade away...it's very convenient for him."
Claire felt her lips curling. "Selfish. I think it's selfish."
"Well, yes. That's Peter, you know. He doesn't know how to sacrifice. Others or himself. Peter's going to do what Peter's going to do." Nathan slipped out of his coat and folded it neatly over his arm. "I blame myself partially. I always indulged him."
Claire shook her head slowly. "I'll never get how you think that is a bad thing. I'd be dead now if--"
Nathan sighed and brushed past her. "I won't have this conversation again. I don't have the time."
He went into the office next to his room and he didn't come out until after she'd gone to bed.
-----
"What do you want to do when we graduate?" Claire asked May this over lunch.
"P.E. teacher." May said this simply.
Claire was going to make a joke about lesbian ladies but the careful way that May avoided her eyes made her stop. "That's cool, I think," said Claire lamely.
"How about you?" May bit into her sandwich delicately.
"No idea. I used to...I used to think a lot of things, but now I don't know."
"You should be a cop," said May.
Claire laughed sweetly. "Right. Can you see some big old guy listening to me?"
"Why not?" May looked at her seriously. "You already police half the people in this school."
"What do you mean?"
"You look out for people. Make people be nice to each other." May rolled her eyes and blew her bangs out of her hair. "It's sweet, I think, how you want to make everyone's lives perfect".
-----
Her dad came home late one night. Claire waited up for him, talked softly to him in the dark corners of the living room. He told her pretty lies about what he did that day, but she did not question them. She knew better than that. They chatted until he took off his glasses, rubbed them on his sleeve, and got down to business.
"What's up, Claire?"
"Ah, nothing."
"Spill." Her dad looked at her with that kind expression, but she could tell he wanted answers. "You love your sleep, I know. It's got to be something if you're staying up just to gab with me about how my day went."
"Nothing, Dad, I'm just...” Claire felt tears in her eyes but she blinked them away. She'd cried more in the last year than in her whole life. "I'm sorry. I'm just."
"Aw, Claire Bear." Her father stood and walked over to her, pulled her head against his chest. "I know it's hard, baby. I know."
"It's so hard."
"It is, and I know how hard it is to grow up. You've got a lot on your plate. Just take it easy...take it slow. You'll be okay." Her father stroked her hair lightly, and Claire closed her eyes. There were so few people that made her feel comfortable, and despite the lies that she knew he told her, had told her like bedtime fairy tales, he was one of them.
-----
"How fast can you fly?"
All she got for answer was the crackle of his cell phone in her ear, the sound of honking and bustle of a New York street that filtered, thousands of miles away, into her ear.
"Pretty fast," he said tightly.
"I want to see it."
"No." Nathan spoke forcefully.
"Why not?"
She heard a slam and the street noises disappeared. His voice was harsh in her ear. "Look, I'm trying to be supportive here, but what the hell is wrong with you?"
"I want to fly."
"Claire..."
"Shut up. I want to fly."
“No.” He spoke with finality.
She paused, and tried to make her words come out sounding like an adult’s. “Peter would’ve.”
He hung up on her, and she hissed a cussword into the phone. But that night his personal assistant called and gave her the flight number for Friday. Not the flying she meant, but she would take it.
-----
"Want to do something this weekend?" May asked her this at lunch.
"Mm, I can't."
May laughed and tucked her dark hair behind her ear. "You never can. Some day I'm going to stop asking you know, and then you'll be sorry."
Claire laughed back. May was kind to her, and she didn't deserve kindness. Claire lightly scored the skin of the truth, just one of many layers. "I'm going to New York, I can't."
"Oh wow, that's fun. I've never been there."
"I have a lot of times. I have family there."
May nodded. "Cool. Way cool." But she didn't ask anything more.
This was why she was the only girl Claire talked to these days.
-----
Claire told the driver 'no thank you' and felt the cool air blow over her face ash she dragged her bag up the stairs to the brownstone. The door was open, and she slammed it behind her, dropped her bag and stamped down the hall. She heard his voice coming from his office.
He was chuckling, leaning back in his chair with his feet on the desk and speaking into the phone, something about a meeting later this week.
She stood with her arms folded, growing madder every second he kept her waiting.
Finally he hung up, and Claire threw her purse on the floor.
"Don't ever send a damned driver for me again. What is wrong with you?"
Nathan looked genuinely surprised for a half-second, before that cool look spilled back over his features. "Excuse me?"
"You can have the-the fucking decency to come pick me up from the airport yourself!"
His face had twisted at her cursing, and he stood. "Don't yell at me, little girl."
"Oh please. Shut up. It's a little late for that."
"It's late for nothing," said Nathan, frowning at her, voice raising just around the edges. "And don't cuss. I hate it when people cuss needlessly."
"Stop it, stop giving me charm school. Why didn't you come get me?" Claire was surprised to hear tears in her voice.
Nathan too apparently. He took a step toward her. "Claire-"
"Am I a chore to you? Tell me. I don't want to be a stupid obligation."
He held her shoulders but did not pull her closer, or speak. He looked deeply into her eyes.
"I don't want to be a chore. God. I..." Claire covered her face with her hands. “I’m tired of being a chore.”
They stood like that for a while, and then he let go of her shoulders.
"Let's get something to eat."
She was about to get her coat, but then he quirked his eyebrow at her and walked into his kitchen.
-----
Claire -
Hi, how are you doing? Ireland has been amazing, but I've got to say that I'm missing New York. And my family, of course. I think I'll be coming back in a couple days. I'll email when I know more.
Peter
"There now. See?" Nathan startled her with his loud voice from behind her back. "He comes around. He always comes around."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"He remembers what's really important to him eventually. That's you, dear."
Claire nodded, and the words would have thrilled her weeks ago. This was what she wanted, right? Right?
-----
"I miss you." Her mothers' voice was small. "It's not right when you're not here."
"I'm coming back first thing tomorrow," said Claire soothingly into her phone. "It's been nice. I've needed a break."
The sound of the shower inside Nathan's room nearly drowned out her mothers' soft goodbye.
-----
"Thanks for having me. Seriously." Claire tucked her hands into the pockets of her bright purple hoodie.
Nathan shrugged, and she smiled. The gesture was so like Peter's that it made her ache, just a little.
"Anytime." If only he meant that.
Claire looked at her cell phone and shifted her bag on her shoulder. "Well. Plane's coming."
"Sure-sure." Nathan nodded and leaned forward to pat her shoulders. "Guess I'll be seeing you when Peter comes ba-"
Claire wrapped her arms around his neck. A stupid physical gesture that was not like her at all.
She felt the tiny hesitation in his shoulders - just for a second. And then she felt his arms curl around her back. He pulled her tightly to him, and she squeezed. It wasn't natural. It didn't feel right. It was uncomfortable for both of them, she suspected.
He started to let go of her, and she felt her hair skimming over his shoulders as she pulled away. She was blushing, could feel the blood seeping into her cheeks.
Her lips trailed over his jaw, soft and barely there until it stopped on the corner of his mouth. She pressed her lips there, just for a second, just long enough to feel herself hop over that line, and now her feet felt like they were burning too.
She turned and ran into the airport without looking back.
-----
"How was New York?" May spooned yogurt delicately into her mouth.
"Cold."
May laughed. "You're spoiled by the California weather already."
"I guess," said Claire. She thought about a stinging kiss, cologne. Short hair that pricked on a neck covered by stiff cotton and silk. A room with no sunlight, and shower pipes that squeaked.
"Oh man, I think West is back." May looked somewhere behind Claire's left shoulder.
"I don't even care." Claire bit into her apple with a loud crunch.
-----
Claire!
I'm coming back! On a plane this time, I figure it's safer. Can you come see me? I've missed you. I'll be in New York in the middle of February. I'll pay for a ticket, or Nathan will, whatever. I've missed you. Ask your dad, okay? See you soon, it's going to be great to see you again.
Love, Peter
-----
"I thought you had a boyfriend," were Nathan's first words as he met her on the curb of airport.
"Uh-"
"It's almost Valentine's Day. Isn't Valentine's Day still exciting when you're sixteen?"
"Seventeen," she frowned. He was acting awfully lackadaisical.
"Huh. Well, Peter's at my mother's house. I got stuck with picking you up."
"Sorry," she said sarcastically. He was picking a fight. She would match him, swore that she would.
"No need to be sorry. I'm just explaining why it's me meeting you, not him."
She looked out the window, and did not speak.
-----
"Peter!" She threw her bag on the fine marble entryway, and ran at him with her arms open. She forgot all her promises of acting too good for him, too mature. She had longed to punish him for leaving her, and now she couldn't.
He sighed deeply. "Claire...” She felt his hand on her head.
As he spun her around in a little circle, she chuckled and grasped him tighter. He set her down, and her eyes flicked to a matching pair of scowls on the other side of the room. Angela Petrelli and her oldest son.
Peter's hand was on her face now. "I missed you. You have no idea how much I missed you."
She smiled up at him, and laughed. She had missed this light-as-air feeling in her lungs.
She heard wingtips tapping on marble, then wood, and then nothing at all.
-----
"Get out."
"No. You're doing it again." The air in his office smelled like brandy.
"One drink does not an alcoholic make. I want enjoy my small relapse in peace, please."
"No." She walked into the office and slammed the door.
"What are you doing here, Claire?" His voice was nasty. His coat was off, sleeves rolled to his elbow, and she had never seen his hair so tousled.
"I'm staying with you, you ass."
He stared at her.
"Remember?" she said.
"I remember. I thought you'd stay with my mother tonight, though."
"Why?" Claire put the stopper on the brandy decanter, and sized up where the line was. He really had had only one glass. She had been monitoring.
"Because Peter's there." He spoke simply, matter-of-factly.
"So?"
"So he's your hero, remember? He saved your life." She hated when he was sarcastic.
She nodded. "Yeah, he did. He saved my life. He's my hero all right." She walked towards him. "Peter's very good to me. He will always be special to me."
Nathan looked at her with tired eyes. If she took just one more step her thigh would hit his knee.
"He doesn't understand, though. You know that, right? He doesn't get me."
“What’s to get?” Nathan stood up from his chair, rattling the glass on his desk. “You think you’re some big fucking mystery. You think no one understands you.”
“No, I-“
She didn’t have a chance to finish what she was going to say. He’d already grabbed her around the waist and pulled her up to him. He didn’t bend his head at all. Her fingers twisted into his shirt, held onto him like she was climbing a wild, clawing vine.
He seemed surprised, like he’d expected to be pushed away. He let go over her and she held fast. He let go of her and she pushed her tongue into his mouth. He tasted like brandy.
It all went so fast from there. It felt like they were flying. Maybe they were.
-----
Never a word of regret. Never an apology. She loved that about him.
His face in her neck, his knee wedged in between her thighs. He kissed her behind the ear and told her that he wasn't drunk, god, but she was the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted. He whispered raspily against her ear.
She rolled on top of him and dug her knees into his chest, the vicious little girl that wanted to bite every inch of his skin very softly. She wanted to own him. She wanted her name all over his body, and for a girl who usually forgot to ask for her allowance, that was saying a lot.
"I thought-"
"You thought a lot of things." She cut him off tersely, and ran her hands over his chest.
"I thought you wanted him."
She did. Well, she had. But that didn't matter now. She tugged at the buttons on his shirt until he pulled her hands away.
"Hey, that shirt costs more than this bed." She told him that he'd better take it off then.
She helped him with fumbling fingers, though his never faltered. She ran her hands over his chest, over the smooth skin that was causing an ache like she'd never known. It was coalescing deep inside of her body, and the ferocity with which it was fired was starting to scare her a little.
"I did want him. I did at first, but..."
"But what?" He held her hands - all action was stopped in the split second that he spoke. This was important to him.
She started to speak but not quickly enough. He shook her hands. "Tell me, Claire. But what? I won't be a damned substitute."
"Shut up," she said. "You're not a substitute, okay? I just...I realised that..." She trailed off. She didn't know how to say this.
"Claire. Dammit, Claire."
"Okay! God. I realised that...he wasn't the one I wanted. He wasn't the one for me." This she spoke, straight into his eyes like the brazen sort of girl that she'd always wanted to be. She said it and willed him to believe it.
His face got very dark all of the sudden but it passed like the flicker of candlelight. She thought for a moment that he wasn't going to believe her but then he kissed her, different this time. It wasn't stinging or so violent that it was all she could do to keep up with him. It was slow and steady, and the fire that was deep inside of her seemed to tunnel up and through her, until she was pushing against him with all her might.
He rolled over her, the welcoming weight of him over her body. It felt like the press of the urgent desire that was spiraling through her body, releasing itself through her moving hands and hips. He was whispering to her, and she dug her fingers into his neck.
In the moment she thinks, this is who I am. This is what I was meant to be.
-----
On Sunday, she attended the bland church that her father and her grandmother go to. She sat next to Peter in her dark corduroy skirt, sweater, and heels. They whispered and drew silly things on the program.
This is Claire eating haggis!!! And then a silly little stick figure with long curls made of pen shrieking and running away.
She giggled until her grandmother threw her a dirty look.
Peter stiffened his back and so did she. The pastor was a very old man with a beard and booming voice. "Let us remember in our heart this day the old adage of which we live in our hearts and in our sacred covenants with our partners. The man said, 'This is now bone of my bones, And flesh of my flesh; She shall be called Woman, Because she was taken out of Man'."
She felt the slightest pressure on her knee.
"Let us pray," said the pastor, and everyone bowed their heads.
She'd always thought that closing her eyes to pray was a dumb tradition. She bowed her head only sort of, fluttered her eyelashes a lot, but she could see through them.
Nathan was staring at her with no pretence at prayer.
Claire opened her eyes and stared back.
-----
“God, you weren’t joking,” she said. He had pulled her away from Peter and his mother, said they would meet them at the restaurant.
“What makes you say that?”
She didn’t answer, just stared at the long, black limo in front of them.
The driver knew Nathan by name, and his face was all but hidden behind large dark glasses and one of those stupid hats. The windows were so darkly tinted she couldn’t see inside. He opened the door for her and Claire slid along the leather seats.
The glass in the middle was already rolled up, and she’d hoped that his hands would already be on her at this point, but they weren’t and she resisted the urge to pout.
The car was inching through traffic - the ever present traffic, even on a sunny Sunday afternoon.
He was still just sitting next to her, not speaking. Claire cleared her throat, and turned her head to look at him.
“Yes?” he asked.
She arched her leg over his thigh, straddled him and grabbed the collar of his tie. She felt his hands dig into her waist and then slide down. She stared at him for a moment - one long moment, in his dark eyes. Then she leaned forward. She licked his bottom lip, slow, like he was melting, like he was ice cream, some sort of treat that made her say “Mm,” all low in the back of her throat.
He slid his hands under her skirt, bunching it up around her waist. She could hear his breathing increase.
“Claire…”
“Mm…” His hand was between her thighs now.
“Flesh of my flesh…”
Her eyes rolled back as his thumb pressed against her. Her head soon followed, her shoulders weak and wobbly. She thought she might lose all ability to remain upright, but his other hand curled around her waist and back firmly.
She watched him watch her…watched him feel her shiver over his hand.
And then he was all over her. He all but ripped her underwear off. He pulled her sweater underneath her breasts, stretching it, she knew, but she was past caring. He shoved her bra down, his large hands grasping her breasts. His fingers looked rough but on her skin they felt smooth. Hot.
Suddenly he grasped her hips and lifted her. She said, “Oh!” very high and quick, and instinctively raised her arms to the ceiling of the limo to steady herself. Her mouth was round with surprise. He was strong. Powerful. It scared her but she loved it, loved the feeling of knowing that the person with his hands on her was someone she didn’t have to lie to…didn’t want to.
She felt him now between her legs and this is where she let go of roof…let herself slide down slow…slower…and she watched his face. He was trying to push her hips down faster but she resisted.
“Fuck, Claire.” His teeth were on his lips.
She smiled at him at first, but the pressing heat of him made her gasp and she grabbed onto his shirt, her little fingers pinching into his chest.
He leaned forward, caught one of her nipples between his lips. She gasped again. He pressed her closer and she looked down at his dark head between her breasts.
She slid down; her body finally coming to rest against his. He threw his head back and muttered something under his breath. There was a tight fullness…she could feel him deep inside of her body as her thighs rested against his hips. She was eye level with him and for a moment neither of them spoke. She’d never been scared with him or this, but for a split second she felt fucking terrified. Worse than when Sylar was after her.
His eyes were large and staring at her as well, his expression unreadable.
She thought maybe he was about to change his mind or something when he fucked into her violently. She said “Oh!” again and reached for the ceiling but he grabbed her hand and pulled it to his lips, his other hand still firmly holding her hip, lifting her. He slid into her again and she pulled her hips back and this time they found the rhythm together.
The driver made a sudden stop and she started to fall over him but he steadied her. “Gotcha.”
She smiled down at him, felt her hair drop over her shoulder.
They started again, the deep, slow sliding between the two of them. Slowly Claire became aware of the building pressure.
“Nathan…”
“Hmm?” He wasn’t sweating, looked perfectly normal. She felt flushed and heated.
“I…I love you, you know.” She felt like an idiot.
“Actually I didn’t.” He pulled her face down to his as he spoke the words in a tight-sounding voice that she’d never heard before. He kissed her differently this time. It was fast and it wasn’t…smooth. Nathan was always smooth. He increased the rhythm between them and at one point Claire tried to tear her lips away so she didn’t moan into his mouth but he just pushed her face closer to his and pressed his tongue deeper into her mouth.
She rode him faster now. She felt the high keening start in her gut and struggle out of her throat. She came with his lips on hers and at the end she wrapped her arms around his neck and held onto him for dear life. She felt it shudder out of her and he was still, perfectly still as she felt herself throb around him. He released her lips and she dropped her head onto his shoulders. He still held her tightly to him, and she sighed.
Then she opened her eyes. “Nathan!” Her voice sounded high-pitched and scared even to her own ears.
“Hmm?” He murmured this against her neck.
She could clearly see that his neck was no longer on the seat. They were floating a few inches above the seat.
They were flying. “Nathan…” She whispered this as she grasped him tighter.
“You wanted to fly.”
And then she felt a rush of air that smelled like his cologne and she felt her back pressed against the ceiling of the limo. Her hair hung over his face, long blonde curtains enclosing them and he pressed more deeply into her, surging again and again until finally he gritted his teeth and kissed her, hard and pressing and she felt the strongest man she knew lose all control.
-----
“You’re late.” Her grandmother was frowning when they entered Daniel’s. She and Peter were already seated, their wine glasses nearly empty.
“Sorry. I was just showing Claire the city.”
“Hm, really.” Her grandmother sounded completely uninterested as she handed Claire and Nathan menus.
“What’d you see?” Peter asked her this with a smile. She started to answer when Nathan cut her off.
“All the best parts. All the parts I love.” He said this briskly as he looked through his menu.
Claire smiled at his downcast eyes for a moment before she nodded and decided what to have for lunch.
fin.
a/n: this isnt proofread very well...i just don't have the time. middle of grad school apps and all that. sorry i havent had anything new in ages. i'm working on original stuff. this is for joanna_484 who is always so encouraging and loves nathan/claire too! <3 all of you that review my first full on nathan/claire fic.
Author: missaliceblue
Pairing: Nathan/Claire.
Rating: NC-17. Sex. Incest. Etc.
Status: Completed One-Shot
Word Count: around 6300
Summary: Written for cheer_and_fly's Valentine's Challenge. Squeaking under the wire. For joanna_484.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
“What, no limo?” She asked Nathan this when she saw him on the airport curb.
“Limo’s for special occasions…and church.” He answered her dryly.
“Hm. Interesting.” She slung her bag into the waiting trunk of his Bentley. “So where’s Peter?”
Nathan didn’t answer, just closed her door after handing her into her seat. She watched him walk around the front of his vehicle, prim and polished in his dark navy suit.
He got back into the car, and avoided her gaze.
“Nathan. Where’s Peter? He usually picks me up.”
Nathan cleared his throat. “Gone…he’s gone.”
-----
If Peter was gone then there wasn't much point to all of this.
"Peter's gone?" Her mother's voice sounded confused even through the phone.
"Mm."
"I thought you went to visit him specifically."
She paused. "I did. He's gone, Mom. He left a couple days ago."
"That's a little weird. Didn't you know?"
Claire was silent.
"So are you going to come home?" Her mother's voice was anxious now, as it always was. She didn't like it when people were missing from her house.
Claire raised her eyes, to the man behind the desk in front of her. His leather chair was tipped back, one leg bent over another. He nodded at her very, very slightly, without removing his hands from behind his head.
"Yeah. No, it's okay. Nathan's going to take me."
-----
"I don't like this house," said Claire.
"It's not a house. It's a brownstone."
"It's a condo."
"Claire." He looked at her like he was smiling, but he wasn't. "This is not a condo, okay? Christ."
"If you share walls it's a condo."
He looked at her, one dark eyebrow furrowed. "Are you going to be this antagonistic for the rest of your visit?"
She spread her hands. "Hey, I'm just calling it like I see it."
He nodded and seemed amused at something...what, she didn't know.
"Are you sure it's okay if I stay with you? I can go, like, now.
"So go," he said nonchalantly.
She was silent for a moment. "I don't want to go."
"So stay."
-----
Nathan's new place was devoid of the beautiful trappings that his former home had - trappings that Claire recognised as a veneer that Heidi had provided.
"It's so dark in here," Claire complained, when she first walked in. "You're not depressed again, are you?" Her voice sounded confrontational to her own ears.
"I like the dark," said Nathan simply.
Claire coughed, and walked into the living room, where a dark leather couch and an equally dark coffee table were the only furnishings. Her boots slid across the wooden floor, and she approached the windows. Her fingers sunk into the heavy brown fabric, its' weight soft but noticeable in her hand.
She pulled open the curtains and let the light flood into the living room.
"God." He spoke with a soft irritation.
She looked out of the window for a moment. "Seriously. You're not, are you?" Claire spoke to the windows.
She turned her eyes towards his. He smiled at her very slightly. "No. I'm fine."
-----
"Villa Mos...Mosco..."
"Villa Mosconi," he said as they got out of the car.
"I would've said it right eventually," she said poutily. It's funny. Most people didn't get her teasing manner right away. If she would've said that and pouted to West he would have been apologising all over himself for making her sad. No, Nathan got it. She didn't have to explain.
"Remember what I said about antagonism? We have a non-aggression pact."
"I'm not a political campaign."
"Sure you are. You're going to love this place," he said as they walked into the busy restaurant, easily changing the conversation. He always made her forget.
"I thought you were going to cook for me. You said you can cook."
"And I can. But I don't feel like it today."
"Why not?"
They were seated, and his eyes wouldn't look at hers until she dropped the subject.
"Are you glad you have your job back?"
"Are you glad to be back in school?"
That was easy enough. "No. I hate it."
Nathan ate his steak with such precision and control. She was slopping sauce onto the table whenever she tried to get a forkful. She hated that she felt stupid in front of him.
"Why?"
"What do you mean, why?" she asked.
"Why do you hate school?"
She blinked at him. "You went to high school, didn't you?"
He nodded.
"Then you know."
"No, I do not. I enjoyed high school very much."
Claire almost snorted. "I bet you did. I bet you were like, prom king football-player person."
Nathan moved his lips, just enough to acknowledge that he'd heard her, but he didn't lift his eyes to hers.
"Didn't you ever feel awkward or...like...you had a secret to hide that everyone would hate you for if they knew?" She asked.
He paused for a moment, and then he chuckled. "You sound like Peter."
It still hurt a little, to hear his name. To know that he hadn't bothered to stick around even though he knew she was coming. "What do you mean?"
Nathan wiped his lips on his napkin. "I mean, if you're hating school or feeling awkward, it's not everyone else's fault. You allow people to dictate their treatment of you. If you feel picked on and intimidated, it's only because you're letting yourself be so."
She put her fork down, fought the rising irritation in her chest. "Excuse me? Exactly what do you think I should do? Make people respect me?"
Nathan went back to cutting up his steak. "Exactly."
Claire scoffed. "And what exactly do I do if people won't?
"Destroy them, Claire." And then he stared at her, didn't crack a smile even when she laughed, thinking it was a joke.
-----
"Got your stuff?" He stood by the front door of his house. "That's a lot of flying for you...twice in two days."
"Yeah, well. Your brother sucks," said Claire, as she rolled her suitcase toward the door and out of the small guest room she had stayed in. It had a white down comforter, iron headboard, and sunlight in the morning.
"He's an idealist." Nathan shrugged, and picked up her suitcase easily with one hand. "I don't know where it came from."
"What do you mean?" Claire asked as she shut Nathan's door behind them.
"I mean, the Petrelli's are a realistic sort of clan. We get it done. We're do-ers."
"Peter's a do-er," she said a bit defensively.
"Peter's a do-gooder," said Nathan as he tossed her suitcase into the trunk of the car. "There's a big difference."
"I'm glad he is," she said heatedly. "He saved my life, you know."
"Did he now," said Nathan. He was driving her to the airport in his black Bentley. "I've heard you say that a couple times now and I'm not sure what you mean by it."
"Uh...'Save the Cheerleader, Save the World'? My high school with me and him all bloody in it? Ring any bells?"
"Oh, that," he said lightly. "Well. I guess he did run down there like a fool. But how do you know that you wouldn't have been able to save yourself?"
She looked at Nathan like he was crazy.
"Seriously. Why couldn't the cheerleader save herself? I don't recall him doing anything in particular to save you, did he? You've got legs."
"He saved me." It was all she could choke out at the moment.
"Sure he did."
“I couldn’t have done it. I'm not strong enough.”
The ugliest look she’d ever seen from him passed over his face. “Bull. You’re my daughter.”
She swallowed deeply. Claire raised her hand to her mouth and looked out the window. "You were right. Your house isn't a condo."
"Glad you agree," said Nathan lightly. "What brought on the epiphany?
"You have a guest room," said Claire. "Condos don't have guest rooms."
"I don't have a guest room."
Claire rolled her eyes. "Then where did I sleep last night?"
"In your room."
-----
"Aw, my baby girl!" Her mother hugged her tightly, patting her hair and her face and her shoulders. "I missed you!"
"I only left yesterday," mumbled Claire.
"Almost a whole day," said her mother stubbornly. "I miss you when you're gone, hon."
"I know, Mom," said Claire a little gruffly.
Her mother tskd. "That New York air. It always does something to you. Whenever you go there you come back pissy."
-----
West stared at her in English and he walked in ever-tightening circles around her in the lunchroom, only to dash off if she finally grew frustrated and spun around in her chair to look at him.
She ate with May every day instead, in the west hall staircase. They never talked much. May had her secrets to keep, and so did Claire.
May bit into her salad daintily. "That boy has got it for you."
"Gross." She was so, so over him.
"Wasn't gross last year," said May plainly.
"I know, but..." Claire paused and sipped at her soda. "I don't know. One day I just stopped liking him. It was fast. Like...boom. And then there was nothing."
"Maybe you like girls," said May.
Claire just laughed. "Nah. It's not that."
“You’re looking for the one you belong with. Right?” May looked at her with raised eyebrows.
“I guess. I mean, I think I know…or I thought I did.”
-----
Claire -
I am so sorry that I missed you last week. I have been spending time in Ireland with Caitlin - you remember I told you about her? She's great, I know you'll like her a lot. She gets me. She doesn't ask questions. I think sometimes that that is the most that you and I could ever ask for.
I hope school is going well. I hope you're liking the West Coast. Nathan says you have a boyfriend - I hope he's treating you right! The next time I come through L.A. maybe we can hang out together. I might not be by a computer for a while because Caitlin and I are going to do some traveling, so if you reply and I don't answer don't feel bad. Anyway it should be really fun. I'm looking forward to some quiet times ahead where I can just enjoy myself, being young and all that. I hope you can do the same.
Love, Peter
-----
"I want to go to New York again."
"Honey, you were just there." Her mom sounded hurt.
"So what? Is it so crazy that I want to get to know my father?"
Her mother put a hand on her hip. "Your father is upstairs getting ready for work."
Claire shook her head. "I know that, okay? I know that. But I still want to get to know him."
Her mother look dubious. "Well we can't keep paying for those flights. Your dad's not making money like he used to."
"He'll pay. I know it."
-----
"You want to what?"
"Visit," she said.
"Peter's in Ireland still."
"I want to visit you, silly," she said teasingly.
"Don't do that," said Nathan sharply. "Don't."
She ignored that comment. "I really do though."
"What are you running away from, Claire?" His words cut through her light banter, and she could feel the ripping.
"I want...I don't know what I want. But I don't want this." She sounded ridiculous and she knew it. Didn't even know what she was saying.
He paused, and for a long time there was silence on the phone between them. She could hear the squeak of his chair as he shifted then sighed.
"Fine. I'll send you a ticket. Your dad shouldn't go broke over this."
When they hung up she cried and she didn't know why.
-----
"Overnight, again? What's the point, Claire?" Her mother had that incredulous bend in the corner of her mouth.
Her dad shushed her though, pulled her back to the stove where the french toast was sizzling. He murmured words and that was all that was ever said about it, ever again.
-----
"What's going on?" He was standing on the curb, by his Bentley. He was wearing a dark coat and a suit. She'd only ever seen him in a suit.
"Nice to see you too."
"I'm sorry, would you like a hug? A parade and flowers, perhaps?" He grabbed her bag off of her shoulder. "Damn, Claire. What's in this?"
"My Supergirl suit," said Claire sarcastically. "I'm moving in with my flying Superman Dad."
"Right." His tone was sarcastic too, and it jolted her, a little, to hear the same contemptuous lilt in the back of his throat.
-----
They drove back to the brownstone apartment, and when Claire walked in the same dark, cavernous hallways greeted her.
"How long's it been since you saw Monty and Simon?" she asked.
"How long has it been since Peter bothered to talk to you?"
Her back was to him when he asked her the question, and she stiffened, every pore in her body rigid and for a second she longed to turn and slap his face. She counted to eight, slowly, and eased her shoulders down.
She turned to face him, slowly. "Two weeks."
Nathan's face was undecipherable. He exhaled, and dropped her bag to the floor. "He's got a new girlfriend. Peter's like that when he meets someone. Makes everything else just fade away...it's very convenient for him."
Claire felt her lips curling. "Selfish. I think it's selfish."
"Well, yes. That's Peter, you know. He doesn't know how to sacrifice. Others or himself. Peter's going to do what Peter's going to do." Nathan slipped out of his coat and folded it neatly over his arm. "I blame myself partially. I always indulged him."
Claire shook her head slowly. "I'll never get how you think that is a bad thing. I'd be dead now if--"
Nathan sighed and brushed past her. "I won't have this conversation again. I don't have the time."
He went into the office next to his room and he didn't come out until after she'd gone to bed.
-----
"What do you want to do when we graduate?" Claire asked May this over lunch.
"P.E. teacher." May said this simply.
Claire was going to make a joke about lesbian ladies but the careful way that May avoided her eyes made her stop. "That's cool, I think," said Claire lamely.
"How about you?" May bit into her sandwich delicately.
"No idea. I used to...I used to think a lot of things, but now I don't know."
"You should be a cop," said May.
Claire laughed sweetly. "Right. Can you see some big old guy listening to me?"
"Why not?" May looked at her seriously. "You already police half the people in this school."
"What do you mean?"
"You look out for people. Make people be nice to each other." May rolled her eyes and blew her bangs out of her hair. "It's sweet, I think, how you want to make everyone's lives perfect".
-----
Her dad came home late one night. Claire waited up for him, talked softly to him in the dark corners of the living room. He told her pretty lies about what he did that day, but she did not question them. She knew better than that. They chatted until he took off his glasses, rubbed them on his sleeve, and got down to business.
"What's up, Claire?"
"Ah, nothing."
"Spill." Her dad looked at her with that kind expression, but she could tell he wanted answers. "You love your sleep, I know. It's got to be something if you're staying up just to gab with me about how my day went."
"Nothing, Dad, I'm just...” Claire felt tears in her eyes but she blinked them away. She'd cried more in the last year than in her whole life. "I'm sorry. I'm just."
"Aw, Claire Bear." Her father stood and walked over to her, pulled her head against his chest. "I know it's hard, baby. I know."
"It's so hard."
"It is, and I know how hard it is to grow up. You've got a lot on your plate. Just take it easy...take it slow. You'll be okay." Her father stroked her hair lightly, and Claire closed her eyes. There were so few people that made her feel comfortable, and despite the lies that she knew he told her, had told her like bedtime fairy tales, he was one of them.
-----
"How fast can you fly?"
All she got for answer was the crackle of his cell phone in her ear, the sound of honking and bustle of a New York street that filtered, thousands of miles away, into her ear.
"Pretty fast," he said tightly.
"I want to see it."
"No." Nathan spoke forcefully.
"Why not?"
She heard a slam and the street noises disappeared. His voice was harsh in her ear. "Look, I'm trying to be supportive here, but what the hell is wrong with you?"
"I want to fly."
"Claire..."
"Shut up. I want to fly."
“No.” He spoke with finality.
She paused, and tried to make her words come out sounding like an adult’s. “Peter would’ve.”
He hung up on her, and she hissed a cussword into the phone. But that night his personal assistant called and gave her the flight number for Friday. Not the flying she meant, but she would take it.
-----
"Want to do something this weekend?" May asked her this at lunch.
"Mm, I can't."
May laughed and tucked her dark hair behind her ear. "You never can. Some day I'm going to stop asking you know, and then you'll be sorry."
Claire laughed back. May was kind to her, and she didn't deserve kindness. Claire lightly scored the skin of the truth, just one of many layers. "I'm going to New York, I can't."
"Oh wow, that's fun. I've never been there."
"I have a lot of times. I have family there."
May nodded. "Cool. Way cool." But she didn't ask anything more.
This was why she was the only girl Claire talked to these days.
-----
Claire told the driver 'no thank you' and felt the cool air blow over her face ash she dragged her bag up the stairs to the brownstone. The door was open, and she slammed it behind her, dropped her bag and stamped down the hall. She heard his voice coming from his office.
He was chuckling, leaning back in his chair with his feet on the desk and speaking into the phone, something about a meeting later this week.
She stood with her arms folded, growing madder every second he kept her waiting.
Finally he hung up, and Claire threw her purse on the floor.
"Don't ever send a damned driver for me again. What is wrong with you?"
Nathan looked genuinely surprised for a half-second, before that cool look spilled back over his features. "Excuse me?"
"You can have the-the fucking decency to come pick me up from the airport yourself!"
His face had twisted at her cursing, and he stood. "Don't yell at me, little girl."
"Oh please. Shut up. It's a little late for that."
"It's late for nothing," said Nathan, frowning at her, voice raising just around the edges. "And don't cuss. I hate it when people cuss needlessly."
"Stop it, stop giving me charm school. Why didn't you come get me?" Claire was surprised to hear tears in her voice.
Nathan too apparently. He took a step toward her. "Claire-"
"Am I a chore to you? Tell me. I don't want to be a stupid obligation."
He held her shoulders but did not pull her closer, or speak. He looked deeply into her eyes.
"I don't want to be a chore. God. I..." Claire covered her face with her hands. “I’m tired of being a chore.”
They stood like that for a while, and then he let go of her shoulders.
"Let's get something to eat."
She was about to get her coat, but then he quirked his eyebrow at her and walked into his kitchen.
-----
Claire -
Hi, how are you doing? Ireland has been amazing, but I've got to say that I'm missing New York. And my family, of course. I think I'll be coming back in a couple days. I'll email when I know more.
Peter
"There now. See?" Nathan startled her with his loud voice from behind her back. "He comes around. He always comes around."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"He remembers what's really important to him eventually. That's you, dear."
Claire nodded, and the words would have thrilled her weeks ago. This was what she wanted, right? Right?
-----
"I miss you." Her mothers' voice was small. "It's not right when you're not here."
"I'm coming back first thing tomorrow," said Claire soothingly into her phone. "It's been nice. I've needed a break."
The sound of the shower inside Nathan's room nearly drowned out her mothers' soft goodbye.
-----
"Thanks for having me. Seriously." Claire tucked her hands into the pockets of her bright purple hoodie.
Nathan shrugged, and she smiled. The gesture was so like Peter's that it made her ache, just a little.
"Anytime." If only he meant that.
Claire looked at her cell phone and shifted her bag on her shoulder. "Well. Plane's coming."
"Sure-sure." Nathan nodded and leaned forward to pat her shoulders. "Guess I'll be seeing you when Peter comes ba-"
Claire wrapped her arms around his neck. A stupid physical gesture that was not like her at all.
She felt the tiny hesitation in his shoulders - just for a second. And then she felt his arms curl around her back. He pulled her tightly to him, and she squeezed. It wasn't natural. It didn't feel right. It was uncomfortable for both of them, she suspected.
He started to let go of her, and she felt her hair skimming over his shoulders as she pulled away. She was blushing, could feel the blood seeping into her cheeks.
Her lips trailed over his jaw, soft and barely there until it stopped on the corner of his mouth. She pressed her lips there, just for a second, just long enough to feel herself hop over that line, and now her feet felt like they were burning too.
She turned and ran into the airport without looking back.
-----
"How was New York?" May spooned yogurt delicately into her mouth.
"Cold."
May laughed. "You're spoiled by the California weather already."
"I guess," said Claire. She thought about a stinging kiss, cologne. Short hair that pricked on a neck covered by stiff cotton and silk. A room with no sunlight, and shower pipes that squeaked.
"Oh man, I think West is back." May looked somewhere behind Claire's left shoulder.
"I don't even care." Claire bit into her apple with a loud crunch.
-----
Claire!
I'm coming back! On a plane this time, I figure it's safer. Can you come see me? I've missed you. I'll be in New York in the middle of February. I'll pay for a ticket, or Nathan will, whatever. I've missed you. Ask your dad, okay? See you soon, it's going to be great to see you again.
Love, Peter
-----
"I thought you had a boyfriend," were Nathan's first words as he met her on the curb of airport.
"Uh-"
"It's almost Valentine's Day. Isn't Valentine's Day still exciting when you're sixteen?"
"Seventeen," she frowned. He was acting awfully lackadaisical.
"Huh. Well, Peter's at my mother's house. I got stuck with picking you up."
"Sorry," she said sarcastically. He was picking a fight. She would match him, swore that she would.
"No need to be sorry. I'm just explaining why it's me meeting you, not him."
She looked out the window, and did not speak.
-----
"Peter!" She threw her bag on the fine marble entryway, and ran at him with her arms open. She forgot all her promises of acting too good for him, too mature. She had longed to punish him for leaving her, and now she couldn't.
He sighed deeply. "Claire...” She felt his hand on her head.
As he spun her around in a little circle, she chuckled and grasped him tighter. He set her down, and her eyes flicked to a matching pair of scowls on the other side of the room. Angela Petrelli and her oldest son.
Peter's hand was on her face now. "I missed you. You have no idea how much I missed you."
She smiled up at him, and laughed. She had missed this light-as-air feeling in her lungs.
She heard wingtips tapping on marble, then wood, and then nothing at all.
-----
"Get out."
"No. You're doing it again." The air in his office smelled like brandy.
"One drink does not an alcoholic make. I want enjoy my small relapse in peace, please."
"No." She walked into the office and slammed the door.
"What are you doing here, Claire?" His voice was nasty. His coat was off, sleeves rolled to his elbow, and she had never seen his hair so tousled.
"I'm staying with you, you ass."
He stared at her.
"Remember?" she said.
"I remember. I thought you'd stay with my mother tonight, though."
"Why?" Claire put the stopper on the brandy decanter, and sized up where the line was. He really had had only one glass. She had been monitoring.
"Because Peter's there." He spoke simply, matter-of-factly.
"So?"
"So he's your hero, remember? He saved your life." She hated when he was sarcastic.
She nodded. "Yeah, he did. He saved my life. He's my hero all right." She walked towards him. "Peter's very good to me. He will always be special to me."
Nathan looked at her with tired eyes. If she took just one more step her thigh would hit his knee.
"He doesn't understand, though. You know that, right? He doesn't get me."
“What’s to get?” Nathan stood up from his chair, rattling the glass on his desk. “You think you’re some big fucking mystery. You think no one understands you.”
“No, I-“
She didn’t have a chance to finish what she was going to say. He’d already grabbed her around the waist and pulled her up to him. He didn’t bend his head at all. Her fingers twisted into his shirt, held onto him like she was climbing a wild, clawing vine.
He seemed surprised, like he’d expected to be pushed away. He let go over her and she held fast. He let go of her and she pushed her tongue into his mouth. He tasted like brandy.
It all went so fast from there. It felt like they were flying. Maybe they were.
-----
Never a word of regret. Never an apology. She loved that about him.
His face in her neck, his knee wedged in between her thighs. He kissed her behind the ear and told her that he wasn't drunk, god, but she was the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted. He whispered raspily against her ear.
She rolled on top of him and dug her knees into his chest, the vicious little girl that wanted to bite every inch of his skin very softly. She wanted to own him. She wanted her name all over his body, and for a girl who usually forgot to ask for her allowance, that was saying a lot.
"I thought-"
"You thought a lot of things." She cut him off tersely, and ran her hands over his chest.
"I thought you wanted him."
She did. Well, she had. But that didn't matter now. She tugged at the buttons on his shirt until he pulled her hands away.
"Hey, that shirt costs more than this bed." She told him that he'd better take it off then.
She helped him with fumbling fingers, though his never faltered. She ran her hands over his chest, over the smooth skin that was causing an ache like she'd never known. It was coalescing deep inside of her body, and the ferocity with which it was fired was starting to scare her a little.
"I did want him. I did at first, but..."
"But what?" He held her hands - all action was stopped in the split second that he spoke. This was important to him.
She started to speak but not quickly enough. He shook her hands. "Tell me, Claire. But what? I won't be a damned substitute."
"Shut up," she said. "You're not a substitute, okay? I just...I realised that..." She trailed off. She didn't know how to say this.
"Claire. Dammit, Claire."
"Okay! God. I realised that...he wasn't the one I wanted. He wasn't the one for me." This she spoke, straight into his eyes like the brazen sort of girl that she'd always wanted to be. She said it and willed him to believe it.
His face got very dark all of the sudden but it passed like the flicker of candlelight. She thought for a moment that he wasn't going to believe her but then he kissed her, different this time. It wasn't stinging or so violent that it was all she could do to keep up with him. It was slow and steady, and the fire that was deep inside of her seemed to tunnel up and through her, until she was pushing against him with all her might.
He rolled over her, the welcoming weight of him over her body. It felt like the press of the urgent desire that was spiraling through her body, releasing itself through her moving hands and hips. He was whispering to her, and she dug her fingers into his neck.
In the moment she thinks, this is who I am. This is what I was meant to be.
-----
On Sunday, she attended the bland church that her father and her grandmother go to. She sat next to Peter in her dark corduroy skirt, sweater, and heels. They whispered and drew silly things on the program.
This is Claire eating haggis!!! And then a silly little stick figure with long curls made of pen shrieking and running away.
She giggled until her grandmother threw her a dirty look.
Peter stiffened his back and so did she. The pastor was a very old man with a beard and booming voice. "Let us remember in our heart this day the old adage of which we live in our hearts and in our sacred covenants with our partners. The man said, 'This is now bone of my bones, And flesh of my flesh; She shall be called Woman, Because she was taken out of Man'."
She felt the slightest pressure on her knee.
"Let us pray," said the pastor, and everyone bowed their heads.
She'd always thought that closing her eyes to pray was a dumb tradition. She bowed her head only sort of, fluttered her eyelashes a lot, but she could see through them.
Nathan was staring at her with no pretence at prayer.
Claire opened her eyes and stared back.
-----
“God, you weren’t joking,” she said. He had pulled her away from Peter and his mother, said they would meet them at the restaurant.
“What makes you say that?”
She didn’t answer, just stared at the long, black limo in front of them.
The driver knew Nathan by name, and his face was all but hidden behind large dark glasses and one of those stupid hats. The windows were so darkly tinted she couldn’t see inside. He opened the door for her and Claire slid along the leather seats.
The glass in the middle was already rolled up, and she’d hoped that his hands would already be on her at this point, but they weren’t and she resisted the urge to pout.
The car was inching through traffic - the ever present traffic, even on a sunny Sunday afternoon.
He was still just sitting next to her, not speaking. Claire cleared her throat, and turned her head to look at him.
“Yes?” he asked.
She arched her leg over his thigh, straddled him and grabbed the collar of his tie. She felt his hands dig into her waist and then slide down. She stared at him for a moment - one long moment, in his dark eyes. Then she leaned forward. She licked his bottom lip, slow, like he was melting, like he was ice cream, some sort of treat that made her say “Mm,” all low in the back of her throat.
He slid his hands under her skirt, bunching it up around her waist. She could hear his breathing increase.
“Claire…”
“Mm…” His hand was between her thighs now.
“Flesh of my flesh…”
Her eyes rolled back as his thumb pressed against her. Her head soon followed, her shoulders weak and wobbly. She thought she might lose all ability to remain upright, but his other hand curled around her waist and back firmly.
She watched him watch her…watched him feel her shiver over his hand.
And then he was all over her. He all but ripped her underwear off. He pulled her sweater underneath her breasts, stretching it, she knew, but she was past caring. He shoved her bra down, his large hands grasping her breasts. His fingers looked rough but on her skin they felt smooth. Hot.
Suddenly he grasped her hips and lifted her. She said, “Oh!” very high and quick, and instinctively raised her arms to the ceiling of the limo to steady herself. Her mouth was round with surprise. He was strong. Powerful. It scared her but she loved it, loved the feeling of knowing that the person with his hands on her was someone she didn’t have to lie to…didn’t want to.
She felt him now between her legs and this is where she let go of roof…let herself slide down slow…slower…and she watched his face. He was trying to push her hips down faster but she resisted.
“Fuck, Claire.” His teeth were on his lips.
She smiled at him at first, but the pressing heat of him made her gasp and she grabbed onto his shirt, her little fingers pinching into his chest.
He leaned forward, caught one of her nipples between his lips. She gasped again. He pressed her closer and she looked down at his dark head between her breasts.
She slid down; her body finally coming to rest against his. He threw his head back and muttered something under his breath. There was a tight fullness…she could feel him deep inside of her body as her thighs rested against his hips. She was eye level with him and for a moment neither of them spoke. She’d never been scared with him or this, but for a split second she felt fucking terrified. Worse than when Sylar was after her.
His eyes were large and staring at her as well, his expression unreadable.
She thought maybe he was about to change his mind or something when he fucked into her violently. She said “Oh!” again and reached for the ceiling but he grabbed her hand and pulled it to his lips, his other hand still firmly holding her hip, lifting her. He slid into her again and she pulled her hips back and this time they found the rhythm together.
The driver made a sudden stop and she started to fall over him but he steadied her. “Gotcha.”
She smiled down at him, felt her hair drop over her shoulder.
They started again, the deep, slow sliding between the two of them. Slowly Claire became aware of the building pressure.
“Nathan…”
“Hmm?” He wasn’t sweating, looked perfectly normal. She felt flushed and heated.
“I…I love you, you know.” She felt like an idiot.
“Actually I didn’t.” He pulled her face down to his as he spoke the words in a tight-sounding voice that she’d never heard before. He kissed her differently this time. It was fast and it wasn’t…smooth. Nathan was always smooth. He increased the rhythm between them and at one point Claire tried to tear her lips away so she didn’t moan into his mouth but he just pushed her face closer to his and pressed his tongue deeper into her mouth.
She rode him faster now. She felt the high keening start in her gut and struggle out of her throat. She came with his lips on hers and at the end she wrapped her arms around his neck and held onto him for dear life. She felt it shudder out of her and he was still, perfectly still as she felt herself throb around him. He released her lips and she dropped her head onto his shoulders. He still held her tightly to him, and she sighed.
Then she opened her eyes. “Nathan!” Her voice sounded high-pitched and scared even to her own ears.
“Hmm?” He murmured this against her neck.
She could clearly see that his neck was no longer on the seat. They were floating a few inches above the seat.
They were flying. “Nathan…” She whispered this as she grasped him tighter.
“You wanted to fly.”
And then she felt a rush of air that smelled like his cologne and she felt her back pressed against the ceiling of the limo. Her hair hung over his face, long blonde curtains enclosing them and he pressed more deeply into her, surging again and again until finally he gritted his teeth and kissed her, hard and pressing and she felt the strongest man she knew lose all control.
-----
“You’re late.” Her grandmother was frowning when they entered Daniel’s. She and Peter were already seated, their wine glasses nearly empty.
“Sorry. I was just showing Claire the city.”
“Hm, really.” Her grandmother sounded completely uninterested as she handed Claire and Nathan menus.
“What’d you see?” Peter asked her this with a smile. She started to answer when Nathan cut her off.
“All the best parts. All the parts I love.” He said this briskly as he looked through his menu.
Claire smiled at his downcast eyes for a moment before she nodded and decided what to have for lunch.
fin.
a/n: this isnt proofread very well...i just don't have the time. middle of grad school apps and all that. sorry i havent had anything new in ages. i'm working on original stuff. this is for joanna_484 who is always so encouraging and loves nathan/claire too! <3 all of you that review my first full on nathan/claire fic.