Broken Sunshine - Heroes - Claire/Peter
Title: Broken Sunshine
Pairing: future!Peter/Claire
Word Count: 374
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Written for comment_fic. I haven't been watching S3 so it's possibly AU for it.
Summary: He wonders what went wrong with Claire.
She's so innocent. So sweet. So trusting.
And she loves him.
He kisses her because he needs to. He needs to remember a time when she didn't look at him with hate in her eyes, when he wasn't the enemy, when she would take him to her heart and her bed and let him love her. Her kisses are gentle, tentative, and he's afraid to press any deeper. He knows he'd crush her in the tide of his desperation if he allowed himself to. She'd survive; she'd heal; but he doesn't want to hurt her. He's never wanted to hurt her.
Lying on the bed, she looks up at him with perfectly trusting blue eyes. Her hand raises to his cheek; her fingers stroke the scar. So soft. So gentle. She treats him like he's the younger one, the delicate one.
"Peter, I am so sorry," she whispers - but he doesn't get the chance to ask her why. She silences him with the sweetness of her lips pressed against his and her lithe, strong legs wrapped around his waist. He remembers this. He remembers all of this so perfectly, so strongly. It would be enough to make him sob if he had the energy left, the emotions ready.
Instead he kisses her, pressing her firmly down against the mattress. His hands run through her hair and he feels the liquid gold beneath his fingertips; not yet turned dark. This Claire, this figment of the past, is all light and sunshine. Goodness. His niece... She was such a good person once. Tasting her now, feeling her now, he wonders what changed.
He wonders if it's his fault.
They're not doing anything wrong. He's always been certain of that much. They're related by blood, but that's it. That's all. They didn't grow up together. He didn't help raise her. Maybe if he had... Maybe if Nathan had never got rid of her, then...
Then in the future, his future, she'd be happy; she'd be safe; she'd be sane.
So he should stop. He should stop.
But he can't; he never could. Her hands urge him onwards and their clothes are shed.
Maybe the future is inevitable - and he'll enjoy this sweet taste while he can.
Pairing: future!Peter/Claire
Word Count: 374
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Written for comment_fic. I haven't been watching S3 so it's possibly AU for it.
Summary: He wonders what went wrong with Claire.
She's so innocent. So sweet. So trusting.
And she loves him.
He kisses her because he needs to. He needs to remember a time when she didn't look at him with hate in her eyes, when he wasn't the enemy, when she would take him to her heart and her bed and let him love her. Her kisses are gentle, tentative, and he's afraid to press any deeper. He knows he'd crush her in the tide of his desperation if he allowed himself to. She'd survive; she'd heal; but he doesn't want to hurt her. He's never wanted to hurt her.
Lying on the bed, she looks up at him with perfectly trusting blue eyes. Her hand raises to his cheek; her fingers stroke the scar. So soft. So gentle. She treats him like he's the younger one, the delicate one.
"Peter, I am so sorry," she whispers - but he doesn't get the chance to ask her why. She silences him with the sweetness of her lips pressed against his and her lithe, strong legs wrapped around his waist. He remembers this. He remembers all of this so perfectly, so strongly. It would be enough to make him sob if he had the energy left, the emotions ready.
Instead he kisses her, pressing her firmly down against the mattress. His hands run through her hair and he feels the liquid gold beneath his fingertips; not yet turned dark. This Claire, this figment of the past, is all light and sunshine. Goodness. His niece... She was such a good person once. Tasting her now, feeling her now, he wonders what changed.
He wonders if it's his fault.
They're not doing anything wrong. He's always been certain of that much. They're related by blood, but that's it. That's all. They didn't grow up together. He didn't help raise her. Maybe if he had... Maybe if Nathan had never got rid of her, then...
Then in the future, his future, she'd be happy; she'd be safe; she'd be sane.
So he should stop. He should stop.
But he can't; he never could. Her hands urge him onwards and their clothes are shed.
Maybe the future is inevitable - and he'll enjoy this sweet taste while he can.