Fic; Easy to Love [Heroes, R]
Title: Easy to Love
Author: sweetbelle07
Fandom: Heroes
Character(s): Peter/Claire
Rating: R
Summery: It's the hardest day of her life and she hasn't stopped smiling.
A/N: It's not AU. So y'all know what that means.
It's the hardest day of her life and she hasn't stopped smiling. Smiling for the happy couple when really all she wants to do is punch the bride and kiss the groom and make her fairy tale have a happy ending because she deserves that, damnit. But instead, she smiles til her cheeks ache and lifts countless glasses of champagne in toast after toast to Mr. and Mrs. Peter and Simone Petrelli.
It's three years later and she's all fake smiles and sore jaw muscles again because Peter Jr. was born this morning at exactly 9:47 AM. She sits with the others in the waiting room, pretending to be as excited and happy for the new parents as everyone else is. Nathan and Matt are currently fighting over who would be a better uncle to the kid, blood relation aside, and Niki's trying her best to explain to Micah that he's still too young for this 'sex thing'. No one notices when Claire sneaks away for half an hour to swallow as many shots of tequila as she can in the bar two blocks from the hospital. It's stupid but she doesn't know how to kill the pain in any other way.
It's a week later and she's been named godmother to the man she loves' child by another woman. It's supposed to be a big honor and Heidi and Niki would've killed for the title apparently, but she's failing to see how it's an honor in any way to be godmother to a kid that resembles a turnip more then a person.
It's another two years later and it's a birthday party for Mohinder that somehow Claire got roped into hosting. How anyone expects her to fit more then three dozen people in her tiny, one bedroom apartment, she still hasn't figured out and she decides, after her second glass of wine, that she doesn't really care. She merely throws her front door open, puts ample amounts of chips and dip and soda and alcohol and cake on the kitchen counter and tells them all to have at it. Mohinder swears that it's the best birthday party he's ever been thrown and suggests that she should plan Peter Jr's since his birthday is the next up. She laughs and says she'll think about it and she doesn't miss the glare that Simone gives her for the rest of the evening.
It's Christmas 2015 and Claire's fairly certain she's beaten her own record by becoming completely hammered before five o'clock that day. It's all a little fuzzy and there some alarming black spots in her memory but she's pretty sure that she cornered Peter in his brother/her father's library and tried to kiss him. What she doesn't know is if he stopped her because it was weird and wrong or because he had to stop himself before he went farther then he was allowed. She hasn't found the courage to ask him either and since he hasn't said anything to her about it, she decides not mentioning it ever is best.
It's the following Valentine's and she's Micah and Peter Jr. and her half brothers' babysitter because that's who Claire is. She's the babysitter, not the girlfriend, not the wife, not the mother. She's the one who sits at home with the kids while the other girls have romantic nights out on the town with their men. As much as she wants to blame them, blame it on her status as the default babysitter, she knows that it's all her fault she has no boyfriends or dates even. She can't seem to get past a silly teenage crush. A silly teenage crush on her uncle. Sometimes she's so disgusted by her feelings towards him that she forgets that bottles aren't meant to be bottomless.
It's the Fourth of July and the gang's gathering at her father's mansion in Martha's Vineyard for the holiday. There's supposed to be a private fireworks show on the lawn later; she's not sure if she's going to attend. The kitchen and her old friend Jack Daniel don't ask her what's wrong when she's not smiling like everyone else. They don't care if she's in love with her uncle, her married with a kid uncle, and they really don't care if she's close to finishing the entire bottle all on her own. They care though, Peter, her father, her stepmother, her friends, they care when she's not one hundred percent but she isn't sure she knows how to be that anymore.
It's Christmas morning and she's crying in the library because she can't deal with this anymore. She can't deal with being the illegitimate daughter of a presidential candidate and being in love with her uncle and being expected to save the world with charm and a dazzling smile, like it's nothing really to fall off a twenty story building, get up, and then walk away without a scratch. It's everything and it hurts so damn much to be her and she'd give anything for it to stop, just for a minute, just long enough for her to catch her breath. He finds her there, several hours later, completely cried out until she sees his face and there's those tears again, and he does the only thing he can think of to get her to stop. He holds her, cradles her against his chest, kisses her forehead, cheeks, and then her mouth because she moves her head just so. It's like time stops when their lips meet. Her world falls back into balance as their kisses deepen, intensify, and they start to move against each other, shedding clothes, fingers touching every bit of skin they can reach and she pretends like it does hurt to be the lover of her uncle when really its the greatest joy she's ever known.
It's four months into their twisted affair and she's fidgeting on her couch, waiting for the door to buzz because it's been nearly a week since she's last seen him, touched him, and she's found that that's nearly a week too long. She squeaks and nearly falls off the couch when that door finally does buzz and she doesn't really care. This isn't about dignity, this is about making herself feel okay, right. She wastes no time after opening the door, grabs him the by the lapels of his jacket and jerks him towards her, meeting him halfway with her mouth. He falters for a moment, surprised by the onslaught of lips and fingers and passion but then he catches up to her and matches her fervor inch for inch and they hardly make it to the couch before clothes are shed and he's buried inside her in one strong thrust. Turns out the couch isn't such a bad place for fucking after all.
It's the day she's feared since she met him, the horrible day when she doesn't reach him in time, when fate steps in and keeps her from him while he bleeds to death on the street, surrounded by people that can't do a damn thing for him but watch him die. She drops to her knees beside him, torn between pounding his chest, trying to force the life back into him and stroking his hair, moving it out of his lifeless eyes. She settles on neither, dropping her head to his shoulder and crying until it hurts and even then she doesn't stop.
It's two weeks after Peter's funeral and the only thing keeping her from her old friend Jack Daniel is the pink line on the plastic test sitting on her bathroom counter. The box says that means pregnant but she can't wrap her mind around that eight letter word. Pregnant means a baby and a baby means that there's only one possible option for the father and that means her baby doesn't have a father.
It's the day she tells her father and stepmother and grandmother and half brothers that she's pregnant. Nathan goes impossibly still, silent for minutes and then he demands, yells really, to know who the father is and in a moment of stupidity, she tells him the truth instead of the carefully constructed lie she spend the night before concocting. The color drains from her stepmother, grandmother, and half brothers' faces and collects in her father's, turning his face a shade of red she's never seen before. She's never seen him reach that level of anger before either and before the hour's up, he orders her to leave his house. She adds the 'and never return' part herself.
It's the day her baby is born and she's in the middle of nowhere and completely alone except for the nurses who keep urging her to push and the doctor whose hands are icy cold and not helping her relax at all. Fourteen hours later and she's got a brand spanking new baby daughter whose got her father's dark hair and her mother's nose. She cradles her baby close to her chest and cries for the first time since she left her father's house, for joy this time because her baby is perfect, despite her politically incorrect parentage. She names her daughter Annabel because it means 'easy to love' and loving Peter is the easiest thing that Claire's ever done.
Author: sweetbelle07
Fandom: Heroes
Character(s): Peter/Claire
Rating: R
Summery: It's the hardest day of her life and she hasn't stopped smiling.
A/N: It's not AU. So y'all know what that means.
It's the hardest day of her life and she hasn't stopped smiling. Smiling for the happy couple when really all she wants to do is punch the bride and kiss the groom and make her fairy tale have a happy ending because she deserves that, damnit. But instead, she smiles til her cheeks ache and lifts countless glasses of champagne in toast after toast to Mr. and Mrs. Peter and Simone Petrelli.
It's three years later and she's all fake smiles and sore jaw muscles again because Peter Jr. was born this morning at exactly 9:47 AM. She sits with the others in the waiting room, pretending to be as excited and happy for the new parents as everyone else is. Nathan and Matt are currently fighting over who would be a better uncle to the kid, blood relation aside, and Niki's trying her best to explain to Micah that he's still too young for this 'sex thing'. No one notices when Claire sneaks away for half an hour to swallow as many shots of tequila as she can in the bar two blocks from the hospital. It's stupid but she doesn't know how to kill the pain in any other way.
It's a week later and she's been named godmother to the man she loves' child by another woman. It's supposed to be a big honor and Heidi and Niki would've killed for the title apparently, but she's failing to see how it's an honor in any way to be godmother to a kid that resembles a turnip more then a person.
It's another two years later and it's a birthday party for Mohinder that somehow Claire got roped into hosting. How anyone expects her to fit more then three dozen people in her tiny, one bedroom apartment, she still hasn't figured out and she decides, after her second glass of wine, that she doesn't really care. She merely throws her front door open, puts ample amounts of chips and dip and soda and alcohol and cake on the kitchen counter and tells them all to have at it. Mohinder swears that it's the best birthday party he's ever been thrown and suggests that she should plan Peter Jr's since his birthday is the next up. She laughs and says she'll think about it and she doesn't miss the glare that Simone gives her for the rest of the evening.
It's Christmas 2015 and Claire's fairly certain she's beaten her own record by becoming completely hammered before five o'clock that day. It's all a little fuzzy and there some alarming black spots in her memory but she's pretty sure that she cornered Peter in his brother/her father's library and tried to kiss him. What she doesn't know is if he stopped her because it was weird and wrong or because he had to stop himself before he went farther then he was allowed. She hasn't found the courage to ask him either and since he hasn't said anything to her about it, she decides not mentioning it ever is best.
It's the following Valentine's and she's Micah and Peter Jr. and her half brothers' babysitter because that's who Claire is. She's the babysitter, not the girlfriend, not the wife, not the mother. She's the one who sits at home with the kids while the other girls have romantic nights out on the town with their men. As much as she wants to blame them, blame it on her status as the default babysitter, she knows that it's all her fault she has no boyfriends or dates even. She can't seem to get past a silly teenage crush. A silly teenage crush on her uncle. Sometimes she's so disgusted by her feelings towards him that she forgets that bottles aren't meant to be bottomless.
It's the Fourth of July and the gang's gathering at her father's mansion in Martha's Vineyard for the holiday. There's supposed to be a private fireworks show on the lawn later; she's not sure if she's going to attend. The kitchen and her old friend Jack Daniel don't ask her what's wrong when she's not smiling like everyone else. They don't care if she's in love with her uncle, her married with a kid uncle, and they really don't care if she's close to finishing the entire bottle all on her own. They care though, Peter, her father, her stepmother, her friends, they care when she's not one hundred percent but she isn't sure she knows how to be that anymore.
It's Christmas morning and she's crying in the library because she can't deal with this anymore. She can't deal with being the illegitimate daughter of a presidential candidate and being in love with her uncle and being expected to save the world with charm and a dazzling smile, like it's nothing really to fall off a twenty story building, get up, and then walk away without a scratch. It's everything and it hurts so damn much to be her and she'd give anything for it to stop, just for a minute, just long enough for her to catch her breath. He finds her there, several hours later, completely cried out until she sees his face and there's those tears again, and he does the only thing he can think of to get her to stop. He holds her, cradles her against his chest, kisses her forehead, cheeks, and then her mouth because she moves her head just so. It's like time stops when their lips meet. Her world falls back into balance as their kisses deepen, intensify, and they start to move against each other, shedding clothes, fingers touching every bit of skin they can reach and she pretends like it does hurt to be the lover of her uncle when really its the greatest joy she's ever known.
It's four months into their twisted affair and she's fidgeting on her couch, waiting for the door to buzz because it's been nearly a week since she's last seen him, touched him, and she's found that that's nearly a week too long. She squeaks and nearly falls off the couch when that door finally does buzz and she doesn't really care. This isn't about dignity, this is about making herself feel okay, right. She wastes no time after opening the door, grabs him the by the lapels of his jacket and jerks him towards her, meeting him halfway with her mouth. He falters for a moment, surprised by the onslaught of lips and fingers and passion but then he catches up to her and matches her fervor inch for inch and they hardly make it to the couch before clothes are shed and he's buried inside her in one strong thrust. Turns out the couch isn't such a bad place for fucking after all.
It's the day she's feared since she met him, the horrible day when she doesn't reach him in time, when fate steps in and keeps her from him while he bleeds to death on the street, surrounded by people that can't do a damn thing for him but watch him die. She drops to her knees beside him, torn between pounding his chest, trying to force the life back into him and stroking his hair, moving it out of his lifeless eyes. She settles on neither, dropping her head to his shoulder and crying until it hurts and even then she doesn't stop.
It's two weeks after Peter's funeral and the only thing keeping her from her old friend Jack Daniel is the pink line on the plastic test sitting on her bathroom counter. The box says that means pregnant but she can't wrap her mind around that eight letter word. Pregnant means a baby and a baby means that there's only one possible option for the father and that means her baby doesn't have a father.
It's the day she tells her father and stepmother and grandmother and half brothers that she's pregnant. Nathan goes impossibly still, silent for minutes and then he demands, yells really, to know who the father is and in a moment of stupidity, she tells him the truth instead of the carefully constructed lie she spend the night before concocting. The color drains from her stepmother, grandmother, and half brothers' faces and collects in her father's, turning his face a shade of red she's never seen before. She's never seen him reach that level of anger before either and before the hour's up, he orders her to leave his house. She adds the 'and never return' part herself.
It's the day her baby is born and she's in the middle of nowhere and completely alone except for the nurses who keep urging her to push and the doctor whose hands are icy cold and not helping her relax at all. Fourteen hours later and she's got a brand spanking new baby daughter whose got her father's dark hair and her mother's nose. She cradles her baby close to her chest and cries for the first time since she left her father's house, for joy this time because her baby is perfect, despite her politically incorrect parentage. She names her daughter Annabel because it means 'easy to love' and loving Peter is the easiest thing that Claire's ever done.