Heroes/Sandman Crossover: "Sunday with the Petrellis" (Death, the Petrellis, PG)
Title: Sunday with the Petrellis
Author: airspaniel
Recipient: cometjantshira
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Heroes: S1, Sandman: vague spoilers for Death: the High Cost of Living
Fandoms: Heroes, Sandman
Characters: Death, Peter Petrelli, Angela Petrelli, Nathan Petrelli, Claire Bennet
Word Count: 1729
Notes: For the heroesficathon Crossover Ficathon. I'm 25 minutes late, but this thing tortured me to the very end. It's a bit cracked, and it's not as finessed as I'd like it to be, but darn it, I still get a chuckle out of it. ^_^ Edit: I couldn't have gotten this done without a nudge from trishalynn. ^_~
Death couldn’t help but notice that she saw an awful lot of Peter Petrelli.
That is, in a professional capacity.
In the span of six months he had fallen off three buildings (“You’re not very good at this whole “flying” thing, are you, Peter?” she had teased.), been stabbed in the back of the head by an enormous shard of glass, and had not only become a human nuclear bomb, but had actually detonated in space and more-or-less lived to tell about it.
The fact that his brother had also survived that last one was just proof of how ineffable the universe could really be.
“Why do you keep showing up,” he had asked, after the fourth time he died, “if I can’t actually die?”
“Oh, you die all right,” she had laughed. “It just doesn’t always take. And I don’t want the one time I’m not here to be the time it does.”
“That’s nice and morbid,” Peter snarked. His expression had turned serious. ‘But that can’t really happen, right?”
She thought about it then, eyes twinkling behind heavy kohl rims. “Everything dies, Peter. And I’m always here.”
He had smiled weakly, as if he understood.
“Besides, I don’t really make a lot of friends in this line of work, you know.” She shrugged, grinning widely. “It’s kind of nice to see a familiar face.”
Peter had laughed, shaking his head. “I’m friends with Death. That actually makes a lot of sense.”
A lot had happened after that, and they had met several times since on much less jovial terms, but Death never forgot that conversation.
Which is why, some time later, she decided to pay him a visit.
-----
The doorbell rang, echoing through the spacious marble entryway of the Petrelli house.
“I got it!” Peter called to no one in particular, thankful to have something to do. Life after multiple deaths had gotten pretty boring.
He opened the door, halfway through his “Can I help you?” before he saw who it was.
A girl, maybe eighteen years old, stood in the doorway, the sun bright against her fair skin. Despite the summer heat, she wore all black; her black hair was neatly styled, pinned back with two ebony combs in a way that suggested that this was not its normal state, and it would much rather be wild and carefree if it had a choice in the matter.
She smiled warmly at him. “Hey, Peter. How’s it going?”
He furrowed his brow, confused. She knew his name, but he didn’t recognize…
Sunlight glinted off the silver ankh around her neck, and he gasped.
“How did it happen this time?”
She looked just as confused for a moment, then burst into musical laughter. “Oh! Oh, no, I’m not here on business. Well, not really. Not today.”
He stared at her, relieved to still be alive, but just as confused as ever. “So… what are you doing here, then?”
Her hands clasped behind her back and she leaned forward playfully, the full skirt of her dress billowing gently against her knees.
“Nothing wrong with visiting a friend once in a while, is there?”
He smiled back at her. “No, I guess not. You look nice.”
“Thanks.”
High heels struck marble behind him, clicking sharply in rhythm, as Angela entered the room. “I’m not paying to air condition all of Manhattan, you know.”
Death peeked around Peter’s shoulder, and Angela’s eyebrow rose.
“Where are your manners, Peter? Invite the lady in.”
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, stepping aside so Death could pass. “Please.”
Peter watched as the two women regarded each other, black hair and black dresses staring each other down. They really looked a lot alike. He sort of wanted to laugh.
Angela broke the silence with a formal introduction. “I’m Peter’s mother.” She leveled her gaze at the girl in her hallway. “And what should I call you?”
Death didn’t miss a beat. “Didi. You can call me Didi.”
“Didi. Very well.” Angela’s tone was even, but there was something about her reaction that suggested that she knew it wasn’t the girl’s real name. It almost seemed like she knew her real name, but she was generously letting it slide.
“You have a lovely home, Mrs. Petrelli.”
“Please, call me Angela.” The woman smiled, a frightening expression. “Won’t you stay for brunch?”
Death swallowed hard, surprisingly nervous. “I’d love to.”
“You really don’t have to.” Peter interjected as his mother left the room. “I mean, I’m sure you’re busy.” He wasn’t adjusting terribly well to this new, casual relationship.
“Don’t be silly.” She took his arm and let him lead her into the house. “There’s nothing I’d rather do than have a nice brunch with your family.”
He smiled weakly. “You asked for it.”
Mere minutes later, she wondered what she had gotten herself into.
-----
“So, Didi,” Nathan began, clapping an affectionate hand on his brother’s shoulder. “How do you know Peter?”
“We, uh, used to work together,” she replied, looking up from her salad.
“At the hospice.” Peter finished, a little too abruptly.
Across the table from Death, Angela cleared her throat. Next to her, a blonde girl was staring daggers at Peter.
“Why haven’t we seen you here before?” she asked, trying desperately to avoid sounding jealous and failing miserably at it.
“Claire…” Peter warned, eyes begging her to forget it. But Death intervened.
“I’ve been traveling,” she smiled disarmingly. “All over the world. I haven’t even seen Peter in ages.”
Claire smiled back, mollified. “Hey, you ever been to Texas? You look really familiar.”
“Sure! Lots of times.” Death giggled at the face Peter was making, an interesting combination of dawning comprehension and shock.
“It’s just… I’m sure I’ve seen you somewhere before, Didi.”
“Claire, stop interrogating your uncle’s guest.” When Angela spoke, the entire room went silent. Peter and Claire shared A Significant Look, and when the girl turned away she was blushing bright red.
Well, that was interesting.
Death wondered if she was the only one who saw that, or if the rest of the table was just very good at ignoring it.
The woman across the table stared coldly at her, and she knew it was the latter. “Enjoying your eggs benedict, Didi?”
“Yes, thank you,” she answered, grateful for conversation. “They’re delicious.”
Angela was obviously not interested, focusing instead on her son at the head of the table. “You’re quiet this morning, Nathan.”
He sighed, stretching his neck. “I’m just tired, that’s all.” His gaze flicked to his younger brother, eyes narrowed and teasing. “Didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Peter choked on his orange juice, face instantly crimson.
Death tried not to look surprised. She had suspected, sure, but it was another thing to see the way they looked at each other. Or rather, the way Peter studiously avoided looking at Nathan, even as Nathan rested a calm hand on Peter’s neck.
“Careful, Pete,” he murmured. “Don’t kill yourself.”
Peter shot Death an apologetic look. She giggled. Whatever else it may be, this meal was certainly entertaining.
Claire pushed her chair back, giving Peter a view of her cleavage as she put her napkin on the table. “Well, if y’all will excuse me, I have some studying to do. Anatomy midterms tomorrow.”
Something flashed in her eyes, and she smiled innocently enough. “Wanna help me study later, Peter?”
Nathan coughed. “Claire… is that your foot?”
“Uh, sorry Nathan. I mean, Dad. Thought that was the table leg.” She blushed as she stood up, holding out her hand to Death. “It was really nice to meet you, Didi. Hope to see you again soon!”
Death smiled and took it. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around, Claire.”
Peter held his breath as the girls shook hands. When Claire didn’t drop dead, he let it out in a rush. “I… I’ll come up and see if you need help in a little while, okay?
“My hero.” The blonde girl grinned, tossing her hair as she left.
“Don’t forget, Pete,” Nathan interjected. “You promised to help me clean my office this afternoon.” He rose, patting his brother’s shoulder. “You still up for it?”
Only the slightest tinge of pink colored Peter’s face this time, and his voice was effortlessly even. “Sure, Nathan. Anything you want.”
“Great. I’ll see you later.” Another handshake with Death. “Didi, great to meet you. Any friend of Peter’s is a friend of mine.”
He leaned in to kiss his mother, the woman’s immaculately manicured hands coming up around his back; and Death couldn’t help but notice them pressing a little more intimately and lingering a little longer than they probably should. As Nathan left, his mother’s eyes stayed glued to his receding form.
If she didn’t know better, she would think that Desire was messing with her.
Angela just cleared her throat again, daintily dabbing the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “I believe I’ll excuse myself as well.”
She turned to face Death, looking at the young girl with icy eyes. “Do you play chess, Didi? I have a very nice set in the parlor, if you’d care to join me.”
It was Death’s turn to blush, somewhat inexplicably. “I’m kind of out of practice.”
The woman smirked. “Another time, then.” Her heels clicked against the patio floor as she went into the house.
When his mother was out of earshot, Peter turned to Death. “I am so sorry about this. My family… doesn’t do brunch very well.”
Death smiled, standing up. “I think the ancient Greek playwrights could take a real lesson from your family, Peter. You can’t make up relationship dynamics this epic and weird. No offense.”
He laughed aloud as he walked her out. “None taken. Living with it every day, I guess I’m used to it.”
She turned in the doorway, eyes suddenly serious. “Thanks for everything, Peter. I know this wasn’t an easy morning for you. And it does mean a lot to me that you let me share it.”
“What are friends for?” he ran his hand through his hair. “At least I made it out alive.”
She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Yep. This time. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”
He smiled again. “You don’t have to worry about that.” His face sobered.
“But seriously, no brunch next time.”
She couldn’t help but laugh.
Author: airspaniel
Recipient: cometjantshira
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Heroes: S1, Sandman: vague spoilers for Death: the High Cost of Living
Fandoms: Heroes, Sandman
Characters: Death, Peter Petrelli, Angela Petrelli, Nathan Petrelli, Claire Bennet
Word Count: 1729
Notes: For the heroesficathon Crossover Ficathon. I'm 25 minutes late, but this thing tortured me to the very end. It's a bit cracked, and it's not as finessed as I'd like it to be, but darn it, I still get a chuckle out of it. ^_^ Edit: I couldn't have gotten this done without a nudge from trishalynn. ^_~
Death couldn’t help but notice that she saw an awful lot of Peter Petrelli.
That is, in a professional capacity.
In the span of six months he had fallen off three buildings (“You’re not very good at this whole “flying” thing, are you, Peter?” she had teased.), been stabbed in the back of the head by an enormous shard of glass, and had not only become a human nuclear bomb, but had actually detonated in space and more-or-less lived to tell about it.
The fact that his brother had also survived that last one was just proof of how ineffable the universe could really be.
“Why do you keep showing up,” he had asked, after the fourth time he died, “if I can’t actually die?”
“Oh, you die all right,” she had laughed. “It just doesn’t always take. And I don’t want the one time I’m not here to be the time it does.”
“That’s nice and morbid,” Peter snarked. His expression had turned serious. ‘But that can’t really happen, right?”
She thought about it then, eyes twinkling behind heavy kohl rims. “Everything dies, Peter. And I’m always here.”
He had smiled weakly, as if he understood.
“Besides, I don’t really make a lot of friends in this line of work, you know.” She shrugged, grinning widely. “It’s kind of nice to see a familiar face.”
Peter had laughed, shaking his head. “I’m friends with Death. That actually makes a lot of sense.”
A lot had happened after that, and they had met several times since on much less jovial terms, but Death never forgot that conversation.
Which is why, some time later, she decided to pay him a visit.
-----
The doorbell rang, echoing through the spacious marble entryway of the Petrelli house.
“I got it!” Peter called to no one in particular, thankful to have something to do. Life after multiple deaths had gotten pretty boring.
He opened the door, halfway through his “Can I help you?” before he saw who it was.
A girl, maybe eighteen years old, stood in the doorway, the sun bright against her fair skin. Despite the summer heat, she wore all black; her black hair was neatly styled, pinned back with two ebony combs in a way that suggested that this was not its normal state, and it would much rather be wild and carefree if it had a choice in the matter.
She smiled warmly at him. “Hey, Peter. How’s it going?”
He furrowed his brow, confused. She knew his name, but he didn’t recognize…
Sunlight glinted off the silver ankh around her neck, and he gasped.
“How did it happen this time?”
She looked just as confused for a moment, then burst into musical laughter. “Oh! Oh, no, I’m not here on business. Well, not really. Not today.”
He stared at her, relieved to still be alive, but just as confused as ever. “So… what are you doing here, then?”
Her hands clasped behind her back and she leaned forward playfully, the full skirt of her dress billowing gently against her knees.
“Nothing wrong with visiting a friend once in a while, is there?”
He smiled back at her. “No, I guess not. You look nice.”
“Thanks.”
High heels struck marble behind him, clicking sharply in rhythm, as Angela entered the room. “I’m not paying to air condition all of Manhattan, you know.”
Death peeked around Peter’s shoulder, and Angela’s eyebrow rose.
“Where are your manners, Peter? Invite the lady in.”
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, stepping aside so Death could pass. “Please.”
Peter watched as the two women regarded each other, black hair and black dresses staring each other down. They really looked a lot alike. He sort of wanted to laugh.
Angela broke the silence with a formal introduction. “I’m Peter’s mother.” She leveled her gaze at the girl in her hallway. “And what should I call you?”
Death didn’t miss a beat. “Didi. You can call me Didi.”
“Didi. Very well.” Angela’s tone was even, but there was something about her reaction that suggested that she knew it wasn’t the girl’s real name. It almost seemed like she knew her real name, but she was generously letting it slide.
“You have a lovely home, Mrs. Petrelli.”
“Please, call me Angela.” The woman smiled, a frightening expression. “Won’t you stay for brunch?”
Death swallowed hard, surprisingly nervous. “I’d love to.”
“You really don’t have to.” Peter interjected as his mother left the room. “I mean, I’m sure you’re busy.” He wasn’t adjusting terribly well to this new, casual relationship.
“Don’t be silly.” She took his arm and let him lead her into the house. “There’s nothing I’d rather do than have a nice brunch with your family.”
He smiled weakly. “You asked for it.”
Mere minutes later, she wondered what she had gotten herself into.
-----
“So, Didi,” Nathan began, clapping an affectionate hand on his brother’s shoulder. “How do you know Peter?”
“We, uh, used to work together,” she replied, looking up from her salad.
“At the hospice.” Peter finished, a little too abruptly.
Across the table from Death, Angela cleared her throat. Next to her, a blonde girl was staring daggers at Peter.
“Why haven’t we seen you here before?” she asked, trying desperately to avoid sounding jealous and failing miserably at it.
“Claire…” Peter warned, eyes begging her to forget it. But Death intervened.
“I’ve been traveling,” she smiled disarmingly. “All over the world. I haven’t even seen Peter in ages.”
Claire smiled back, mollified. “Hey, you ever been to Texas? You look really familiar.”
“Sure! Lots of times.” Death giggled at the face Peter was making, an interesting combination of dawning comprehension and shock.
“It’s just… I’m sure I’ve seen you somewhere before, Didi.”
“Claire, stop interrogating your uncle’s guest.” When Angela spoke, the entire room went silent. Peter and Claire shared A Significant Look, and when the girl turned away she was blushing bright red.
Well, that was interesting.
Death wondered if she was the only one who saw that, or if the rest of the table was just very good at ignoring it.
The woman across the table stared coldly at her, and she knew it was the latter. “Enjoying your eggs benedict, Didi?”
“Yes, thank you,” she answered, grateful for conversation. “They’re delicious.”
Angela was obviously not interested, focusing instead on her son at the head of the table. “You’re quiet this morning, Nathan.”
He sighed, stretching his neck. “I’m just tired, that’s all.” His gaze flicked to his younger brother, eyes narrowed and teasing. “Didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Peter choked on his orange juice, face instantly crimson.
Death tried not to look surprised. She had suspected, sure, but it was another thing to see the way they looked at each other. Or rather, the way Peter studiously avoided looking at Nathan, even as Nathan rested a calm hand on Peter’s neck.
“Careful, Pete,” he murmured. “Don’t kill yourself.”
Peter shot Death an apologetic look. She giggled. Whatever else it may be, this meal was certainly entertaining.
Claire pushed her chair back, giving Peter a view of her cleavage as she put her napkin on the table. “Well, if y’all will excuse me, I have some studying to do. Anatomy midterms tomorrow.”
Something flashed in her eyes, and she smiled innocently enough. “Wanna help me study later, Peter?”
Nathan coughed. “Claire… is that your foot?”
“Uh, sorry Nathan. I mean, Dad. Thought that was the table leg.” She blushed as she stood up, holding out her hand to Death. “It was really nice to meet you, Didi. Hope to see you again soon!”
Death smiled and took it. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around, Claire.”
Peter held his breath as the girls shook hands. When Claire didn’t drop dead, he let it out in a rush. “I… I’ll come up and see if you need help in a little while, okay?
“My hero.” The blonde girl grinned, tossing her hair as she left.
“Don’t forget, Pete,” Nathan interjected. “You promised to help me clean my office this afternoon.” He rose, patting his brother’s shoulder. “You still up for it?”
Only the slightest tinge of pink colored Peter’s face this time, and his voice was effortlessly even. “Sure, Nathan. Anything you want.”
“Great. I’ll see you later.” Another handshake with Death. “Didi, great to meet you. Any friend of Peter’s is a friend of mine.”
He leaned in to kiss his mother, the woman’s immaculately manicured hands coming up around his back; and Death couldn’t help but notice them pressing a little more intimately and lingering a little longer than they probably should. As Nathan left, his mother’s eyes stayed glued to his receding form.
If she didn’t know better, she would think that Desire was messing with her.
Angela just cleared her throat again, daintily dabbing the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “I believe I’ll excuse myself as well.”
She turned to face Death, looking at the young girl with icy eyes. “Do you play chess, Didi? I have a very nice set in the parlor, if you’d care to join me.”
It was Death’s turn to blush, somewhat inexplicably. “I’m kind of out of practice.”
The woman smirked. “Another time, then.” Her heels clicked against the patio floor as she went into the house.
When his mother was out of earshot, Peter turned to Death. “I am so sorry about this. My family… doesn’t do brunch very well.”
Death smiled, standing up. “I think the ancient Greek playwrights could take a real lesson from your family, Peter. You can’t make up relationship dynamics this epic and weird. No offense.”
He laughed aloud as he walked her out. “None taken. Living with it every day, I guess I’m used to it.”
She turned in the doorway, eyes suddenly serious. “Thanks for everything, Peter. I know this wasn’t an easy morning for you. And it does mean a lot to me that you let me share it.”
“What are friends for?” he ran his hand through his hair. “At least I made it out alive.”
She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Yep. This time. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”
He smiled again. “You don’t have to worry about that.” His face sobered.
“But seriously, no brunch next time.”
She couldn’t help but laugh.