The Heroes Bride (2/?)
Title: The Heroes Bride
Characters/Pairings: In this chapter, just Peter and Claude; in chapters to come, well, let's just say everyone. Among "everyone": Adam, Bennet, Mohinder, Sylar, Elle...and more!
Summary: My version of The Princess Bride, with assorted Heroes characters, centering on Plaude...
Rating: Overall, won't get beyond R, probably not PG-13 even. PG-13 in this part, for implications of things.
Warnings: Vague implications of sexual activities, and that sort of thing.
Spoilers: Pretty much nothing for the show, and lots for the movie
A/N: This chapter is another kind-of place holder, although I like to think I'm laying the groundwork for plot points to come. And after this, things really will pick up.
Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Heroes or The Princess Bride, and, in fact, owe the creators of both my eternal gratitude.
Special thanks to c_quinn, as always.
Chapter 1
“And he couldn’t help but grin back.” That’s nice, isn’t it?
Yeah, sure.
Gotta love the enthusiasm. Okay. Moving on…
Lovers throughout time immemorial have made all sorts of discoveries, ranging from the horrific to the wonderful, on that most fascinating and vulnerable of human moments: the morning after.
Egyptian princess realizing exactly what lines to draw when it comes to fraternal affection, high priestess wondering at the identities hidden behind exotic masks and deciding that perhaps such knowledge is not essential, politicians learning that the chances of encountering beautiful blonds with loose morals coincidentally decrease exponentially with the number of years married and children accrued.
Important facts to learn, all of them, even though extenuating circumstances may not provide the best conditions for their retention.
Then again, the most important lessons rarely come to us when we’re ready to learn them.
Peter, of course, was in for discoveries of his own, but that required consciousness and he remained very much a teenaged boy when it came to his entrenched unwillingness to rise, as it were, with the sun.
When he finally did wake it was to the discovery that Claude’s shoulder made a more than adequate pillow, and that his body heat, furnace-like and all-engulfing as it had been the night before, had faded into a much more comfortable, easy warmth, not entirely unlike spring afternoons in the country.
(Not that he would have chosen to describe the sensation of relaxed bliss in those terms, especially to the individual who was providing it.)
He also realized that any soreness on his part, any lingering discomfort, really was worth waking up to long, careful fingers carding through his hair, and a comforting arm around his shoulder.
(Especially given that he’d spent the past few months being awoken in a much less gentle and affectionate manner, one that involved shouting if he was lucky, and sudden drops to the floor if he was not.)
Both of which, as far as early morning discoveries go, were fairly good ones to make.
“Pete?”
“Hmm…”
He wasn’t quite up to forming sentences, at the moment, and wasn’t even sure if that could be attributed to his sleepiness or to the fact that he could feel Claude’s heart beat against his palm and that he kept getting distracted by the rhythm.
“You’ve a bed of your own, yeah?”
“Mmm.”
Words remained fairly elusive, and he felt no need to go hunt them down just yet.
“And I’ve a rough-hewn peasant pallet of my own, if your noble arse would deign to-“
“Hey, I slept on the floor for you and-“
“My point being, poodle, that you didn’t actually have to.”
***
The first time Claude had kissed him, he’d been shocked. Not at the action itself, by that point it had seemed inevitable, even if he hadn’t realized it, but at the tenderness behind it.
Because if there was one thing Claude Rains was not, it was tender.
The first time Claude had undressed him, calloused palms slow and gentle against his skin, it had been just as much of a shock.
Because Claude Rains wasn’t patient, especially not with him.
And the first time they’d woken up together, in an actual bed, he’d realized that Claude didn’t hog the covers or snore or talk in his sleep, which was less a shock than a relief.
Because spending a night with Claude Rains required as much uninterrupted sleep as possible.
Most stunning of all, of course, was the first time Claude told him he loved him, following a moment breathless, flushed, and still trembling, confession on Peter’s part.
Because while Claude Rains could obviously love, he wasn’t the type to say it that easily, to return it immediately, to kiss him swiftly and deeply in response.
***
“Claude?” he murmured, trying his best not to fall asleep to the scent of fresh grass and sound of natural wonders he couldn’t identify going on around them, among them a soft buzzing off in the distance, the kind no good ever came from.
“Yeah, pup?”
He glanced up, saw Claude looking down with the kind of wary curiosity normally reserve for puppies that have just discovered furniture.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Apparently.”
He bit his lip, thinking for a second, before the leg he was resting his head on jiggled a bit, encouraging him to continue.
“Will you answer it?”
“Depends on the question.”
Which was a probably a no, but seeing as it hadn’t involved a supposedly gentle smack to the head, it may have been a maybe.
“I love you.” The fingers stroking his forehead stilled.
“Was that…was that your question, Pete? Because I think you might be a bit confused as to-“
“Claude. I’m not an idiot, okay? I’m just…I just wanted you to know. Because no matter what you did, or who you…were, I just…you can tell me. I’ll still-”
“Are you still on about that, Peter?” Claude sighed, leaning back against the tree they’d settled under, to take a break that had thus far lasted longer than any time they’d spent working, “You don’t…it’s none o’ your concern.”
He shut his eyes, wanting to just get lost in the brush of calloused fingers against his skin, but the words slipped out anyway.
“The Prince’s Guard was in town. I think they…I think they were…” looking for you, he couldn’t bring himself to finish. “I thought you should know.”
***
“I’ll go with you.”
Claude gave him the same look that particular suggestion had earned him the past ten times he’d made it, the annoyed You’re either an idiot or have some kind of specialized amnesia one, although it had been intensifying and he was somewhat morbidly tempted to see how long it’d be before it would cause him to spontaneously combust.
Which would solve a lot of problems, really, and leave him one thing less to do if Claude didn’t take him along.
“I mean, it’s not like I have anything else left if you-“
And then he was being pushed against the door and positively glared at.
“You’ll stay here,” Claude was saying, in a quiet, desperate voice that if Peter were to think about too closely would have terrified him, “You’ll not mention me to anyone. And if I don’t come back-“
“Won’t happen,” he glared back as much as he could, with Claude’s body warm and tense against his, and he could feel his heartbeat again. “Right? It won’t-“
“But if it does,” and Claude gripped his shoulders, pushed him back, probably more harshly than he’d intended. “You’re not to wait for me, like some soddin’ romantic idiot, you got that? ”
“Stop it,” he tried to keep his voice even, tried not to let it rise to childish petulance, “Just…stop telling me what I have to do, okay? I’ll wait forever if I have to!”
So much for avoiding the childish petulance, but he really didn’t care anymore.
And he realized that it was more or less true, when Claude stopped looking like he was torn between laughing at him and hitting him and kissed him instead, like he always did.
And he knew it was true, when Claude left the next morning, went North to “fix” a problem he couldn’t be bothered to actually explain, one that wouldn’t take longer than a few months, because he’d promised.
So it wasn’t like he’d have to wait forever, but it was still good to know that he would.
Not that he’d need to, of course.
And on to Chapter 3...
Characters/Pairings: In this chapter, just Peter and Claude; in chapters to come, well, let's just say everyone. Among "everyone": Adam, Bennet, Mohinder, Sylar, Elle...and more!
Summary: My version of The Princess Bride, with assorted Heroes characters, centering on Plaude...
Rating: Overall, won't get beyond R, probably not PG-13 even. PG-13 in this part, for implications of things.
Warnings: Vague implications of sexual activities, and that sort of thing.
Spoilers: Pretty much nothing for the show, and lots for the movie
A/N: This chapter is another kind-of place holder, although I like to think I'm laying the groundwork for plot points to come. And after this, things really will pick up.
Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Heroes or The Princess Bride, and, in fact, owe the creators of both my eternal gratitude.
Special thanks to c_quinn, as always.
Chapter 1
“And he couldn’t help but grin back.” That’s nice, isn’t it?
Yeah, sure.
Gotta love the enthusiasm. Okay. Moving on…
Lovers throughout time immemorial have made all sorts of discoveries, ranging from the horrific to the wonderful, on that most fascinating and vulnerable of human moments: the morning after.
Egyptian princess realizing exactly what lines to draw when it comes to fraternal affection, high priestess wondering at the identities hidden behind exotic masks and deciding that perhaps such knowledge is not essential, politicians learning that the chances of encountering beautiful blonds with loose morals coincidentally decrease exponentially with the number of years married and children accrued.
Important facts to learn, all of them, even though extenuating circumstances may not provide the best conditions for their retention.
Then again, the most important lessons rarely come to us when we’re ready to learn them.
Peter, of course, was in for discoveries of his own, but that required consciousness and he remained very much a teenaged boy when it came to his entrenched unwillingness to rise, as it were, with the sun.
When he finally did wake it was to the discovery that Claude’s shoulder made a more than adequate pillow, and that his body heat, furnace-like and all-engulfing as it had been the night before, had faded into a much more comfortable, easy warmth, not entirely unlike spring afternoons in the country.
(Not that he would have chosen to describe the sensation of relaxed bliss in those terms, especially to the individual who was providing it.)
He also realized that any soreness on his part, any lingering discomfort, really was worth waking up to long, careful fingers carding through his hair, and a comforting arm around his shoulder.
(Especially given that he’d spent the past few months being awoken in a much less gentle and affectionate manner, one that involved shouting if he was lucky, and sudden drops to the floor if he was not.)
Both of which, as far as early morning discoveries go, were fairly good ones to make.
“Pete?”
“Hmm…”
He wasn’t quite up to forming sentences, at the moment, and wasn’t even sure if that could be attributed to his sleepiness or to the fact that he could feel Claude’s heart beat against his palm and that he kept getting distracted by the rhythm.
“You’ve a bed of your own, yeah?”
“Mmm.”
Words remained fairly elusive, and he felt no need to go hunt them down just yet.
“And I’ve a rough-hewn peasant pallet of my own, if your noble arse would deign to-“
“Hey, I slept on the floor for you and-“
“My point being, poodle, that you didn’t actually have to.”
***
The first time Claude had kissed him, he’d been shocked. Not at the action itself, by that point it had seemed inevitable, even if he hadn’t realized it, but at the tenderness behind it.
Because if there was one thing Claude Rains was not, it was tender.
The first time Claude had undressed him, calloused palms slow and gentle against his skin, it had been just as much of a shock.
Because Claude Rains wasn’t patient, especially not with him.
And the first time they’d woken up together, in an actual bed, he’d realized that Claude didn’t hog the covers or snore or talk in his sleep, which was less a shock than a relief.
Because spending a night with Claude Rains required as much uninterrupted sleep as possible.
Most stunning of all, of course, was the first time Claude told him he loved him, following a moment breathless, flushed, and still trembling, confession on Peter’s part.
Because while Claude Rains could obviously love, he wasn’t the type to say it that easily, to return it immediately, to kiss him swiftly and deeply in response.
***
“Claude?” he murmured, trying his best not to fall asleep to the scent of fresh grass and sound of natural wonders he couldn’t identify going on around them, among them a soft buzzing off in the distance, the kind no good ever came from.
“Yeah, pup?”
He glanced up, saw Claude looking down with the kind of wary curiosity normally reserve for puppies that have just discovered furniture.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Apparently.”
He bit his lip, thinking for a second, before the leg he was resting his head on jiggled a bit, encouraging him to continue.
“Will you answer it?”
“Depends on the question.”
Which was a probably a no, but seeing as it hadn’t involved a supposedly gentle smack to the head, it may have been a maybe.
“I love you.” The fingers stroking his forehead stilled.
“Was that…was that your question, Pete? Because I think you might be a bit confused as to-“
“Claude. I’m not an idiot, okay? I’m just…I just wanted you to know. Because no matter what you did, or who you…were, I just…you can tell me. I’ll still-”
“Are you still on about that, Peter?” Claude sighed, leaning back against the tree they’d settled under, to take a break that had thus far lasted longer than any time they’d spent working, “You don’t…it’s none o’ your concern.”
He shut his eyes, wanting to just get lost in the brush of calloused fingers against his skin, but the words slipped out anyway.
“The Prince’s Guard was in town. I think they…I think they were…” looking for you, he couldn’t bring himself to finish. “I thought you should know.”
***
“I’ll go with you.”
Claude gave him the same look that particular suggestion had earned him the past ten times he’d made it, the annoyed You’re either an idiot or have some kind of specialized amnesia one, although it had been intensifying and he was somewhat morbidly tempted to see how long it’d be before it would cause him to spontaneously combust.
Which would solve a lot of problems, really, and leave him one thing less to do if Claude didn’t take him along.
“I mean, it’s not like I have anything else left if you-“
And then he was being pushed against the door and positively glared at.
“You’ll stay here,” Claude was saying, in a quiet, desperate voice that if Peter were to think about too closely would have terrified him, “You’ll not mention me to anyone. And if I don’t come back-“
“Won’t happen,” he glared back as much as he could, with Claude’s body warm and tense against his, and he could feel his heartbeat again. “Right? It won’t-“
“But if it does,” and Claude gripped his shoulders, pushed him back, probably more harshly than he’d intended. “You’re not to wait for me, like some soddin’ romantic idiot, you got that? ”
“Stop it,” he tried to keep his voice even, tried not to let it rise to childish petulance, “Just…stop telling me what I have to do, okay? I’ll wait forever if I have to!”
So much for avoiding the childish petulance, but he really didn’t care anymore.
And he realized that it was more or less true, when Claude stopped looking like he was torn between laughing at him and hitting him and kissed him instead, like he always did.
And he knew it was true, when Claude left the next morning, went North to “fix” a problem he couldn’t be bothered to actually explain, one that wouldn’t take longer than a few months, because he’d promised.
So it wasn’t like he’d have to wait forever, but it was still good to know that he would.
Not that he’d need to, of course.
And on to Chapter 3...