Fic: The Day
Title: The Day
Rating: PG13
Word count: 860
Summary: The boys finally get over themselves and I am no longer tempted to kill off both of them. I really shouldn't bother asking if you all want a porn chapter, should I?
Warnings: Nothing I can think of.
Disclaimer: Not mine in the least.
Author's Notes: Preceded by The Life We Chose, Raise a Glass or Two, Older But No Wiser, Reflection, and Starry Notions.
Claude takes a step away from him and Peter doesn’t follow. Which shouldn’t be surprising, the young man is far past trailing after him blindly, but it still manages to be and Claude wonders if he should feel guilty for that.
“What’re you-“
“I read your file,” Peter blurts out, and Claude takes another step back. In surprise, he tells himself, as he shakes his head and tries to decide on the most important question of the moment.
“Which one?” he settles on, and Peter blinks, seemingly unwilling to think about the possibility of there being more, and shrugs.
“The one Noah Bennet had.”
“Doesn’t still say I’m dead, does it?” and upon reflection he just shakes his head. “’course not. I bet he’s kept them updated.”
“Not all of them,” Peter says, sheepishly, as if he thinks it’s a small comfort, and Claude laughs.
“Just the ones close to his heart, then.”
“I guess,” Peter contributes a small chuckle of his own, and then stops. Stares at him with those same brown eyes, full of an entirely new strain of need, and then drops his gaze. “I’m sorry. For what happened to you.”
“What’ve you got to be sorry for, Peter?” Claude scoffs, and regrets it, a little, in the face of Peter’s earnestness.
“Everything. That it happened. That you…that you had to go through all that, it was wrong,” he says, wide-eyed and honest with dark strands of hair curving over his forehead and it could be New York again. Could be the pretty, simple nurse just waiting to be broken by those big dreams of his and the man who’s job it’d been to keep it from happening. Or to make sure it did, but in smaller, sharper ways, bit by bit, every day.
But it’s not and they’re not. It’s not New York and they’re closer now, closer than they could’ve been before, and Claude’s not even sure he can really regret that, as much as he knows he should.
“Always been one for sound moral judgment, haven’t you?” is all he says, finally, and Peter actually laughs.
“Yeah, sure,” Peter doesn’t seem to want to contradict him, but there’s certainly something brewing in those dark eyes of his. “Do you ever…”
“Do I ever what?”
“Never mind,” and Peter blushes.
“Right,” Claude narrows his eyes for a moment, and then blinks. “Can I ask you somethin’, mate?” Peter shrugs, and it’s more than enough for him. “After I left, and before you found out about Bennet and me. Did you hate me?”
“I…I don’t…”
“Simple question, Peter.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Truth’d be nice.”
“No,” Peter sighs, sounds exhausted and distant and that’s exactly what Claude deserves. “I was angry, but…but I thought you had to have a reason.”
“Aside from cowardice?”
Peter glares at him.
“What the hell do you want from me, Claude? What are you…you want to prove something? That I’m weak and forgive people too easily? What?”
“Just curious,” he shrugs, turning around, not entirely sure if Peter would follow him if he were to walk way now and not entirely ready to know, either way.
“Anything else you’re just curious about?” and Peter sounds annoyed, strained, but it’s better than the bland and careful tone of before.
“Could stand to know what you’re doing here.”
He hears a chuckle and glances back.
“I don’t even know,” Peter says, from closer than Claude had expected him to be, and he should hate that the young man keeps doing that. But he doesn’t, not even as Peter comes to stand in front of him, as close as he could possibly be without touching him.
“Pete…“
And Peter cocks his head, looks more thoughtful than anything. Not even smiling, just assessing, and Claude fights the urge to disappear.
“You know…” the young man says, carefully, and Claude glances down at the hand suddenly resting on his arm. Looks up again and Peter’s lip has quirked up in the corner. “I didn’t hate you when you left but I did…I did miss you. I think.”
“You think?” Claude takes a breath, and Peter’s smile widens.
“Well it was…I had a lot going on,” and Claude chuckles nervously. Stops when Peter’s hand settles on his cheek. “But if I hadn’t…”
“What’re-“
Peter’s mouth on his makes the question irrelevant and even if it hadn’t, he doubts he would’ve had much to say.
He has even less to say when Peter pulls away almost immediately, before he can even react to the warmth against his chest and how quickly his body gets used to it.
“Yeah, I…” Peter half-smiles again. “That’s why I’m here. I think I might-“
Claude grabs at his shirt and yanks Peter against him before the young man can finish a sentence he’s not sure either of them is ready to hear.
Drops his head to kiss him only to find Peter surging up, at just the angle that results in bumped foreheads and more nervous chuckles all around, until Peter wraps a hand around the back of his neck and keeps him still.
*
Rating: PG13
Word count: 860
Summary: The boys finally get over themselves and I am no longer tempted to kill off both of them. I really shouldn't bother asking if you all want a porn chapter, should I?
Warnings: Nothing I can think of.
Disclaimer: Not mine in the least.
Author's Notes: Preceded by The Life We Chose, Raise a Glass or Two, Older But No Wiser, Reflection, and Starry Notions.
Claude takes a step away from him and Peter doesn’t follow. Which shouldn’t be surprising, the young man is far past trailing after him blindly, but it still manages to be and Claude wonders if he should feel guilty for that.
“What’re you-“
“I read your file,” Peter blurts out, and Claude takes another step back. In surprise, he tells himself, as he shakes his head and tries to decide on the most important question of the moment.
“Which one?” he settles on, and Peter blinks, seemingly unwilling to think about the possibility of there being more, and shrugs.
“The one Noah Bennet had.”
“Doesn’t still say I’m dead, does it?” and upon reflection he just shakes his head. “’course not. I bet he’s kept them updated.”
“Not all of them,” Peter says, sheepishly, as if he thinks it’s a small comfort, and Claude laughs.
“Just the ones close to his heart, then.”
“I guess,” Peter contributes a small chuckle of his own, and then stops. Stares at him with those same brown eyes, full of an entirely new strain of need, and then drops his gaze. “I’m sorry. For what happened to you.”
“What’ve you got to be sorry for, Peter?” Claude scoffs, and regrets it, a little, in the face of Peter’s earnestness.
“Everything. That it happened. That you…that you had to go through all that, it was wrong,” he says, wide-eyed and honest with dark strands of hair curving over his forehead and it could be New York again. Could be the pretty, simple nurse just waiting to be broken by those big dreams of his and the man who’s job it’d been to keep it from happening. Or to make sure it did, but in smaller, sharper ways, bit by bit, every day.
But it’s not and they’re not. It’s not New York and they’re closer now, closer than they could’ve been before, and Claude’s not even sure he can really regret that, as much as he knows he should.
“Always been one for sound moral judgment, haven’t you?” is all he says, finally, and Peter actually laughs.
“Yeah, sure,” Peter doesn’t seem to want to contradict him, but there’s certainly something brewing in those dark eyes of his. “Do you ever…”
“Do I ever what?”
“Never mind,” and Peter blushes.
“Right,” Claude narrows his eyes for a moment, and then blinks. “Can I ask you somethin’, mate?” Peter shrugs, and it’s more than enough for him. “After I left, and before you found out about Bennet and me. Did you hate me?”
“I…I don’t…”
“Simple question, Peter.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Truth’d be nice.”
“No,” Peter sighs, sounds exhausted and distant and that’s exactly what Claude deserves. “I was angry, but…but I thought you had to have a reason.”
“Aside from cowardice?”
Peter glares at him.
“What the hell do you want from me, Claude? What are you…you want to prove something? That I’m weak and forgive people too easily? What?”
“Just curious,” he shrugs, turning around, not entirely sure if Peter would follow him if he were to walk way now and not entirely ready to know, either way.
“Anything else you’re just curious about?” and Peter sounds annoyed, strained, but it’s better than the bland and careful tone of before.
“Could stand to know what you’re doing here.”
He hears a chuckle and glances back.
“I don’t even know,” Peter says, from closer than Claude had expected him to be, and he should hate that the young man keeps doing that. But he doesn’t, not even as Peter comes to stand in front of him, as close as he could possibly be without touching him.
“Pete…“
And Peter cocks his head, looks more thoughtful than anything. Not even smiling, just assessing, and Claude fights the urge to disappear.
“You know…” the young man says, carefully, and Claude glances down at the hand suddenly resting on his arm. Looks up again and Peter’s lip has quirked up in the corner. “I didn’t hate you when you left but I did…I did miss you. I think.”
“You think?” Claude takes a breath, and Peter’s smile widens.
“Well it was…I had a lot going on,” and Claude chuckles nervously. Stops when Peter’s hand settles on his cheek. “But if I hadn’t…”
“What’re-“
Peter’s mouth on his makes the question irrelevant and even if it hadn’t, he doubts he would’ve had much to say.
He has even less to say when Peter pulls away almost immediately, before he can even react to the warmth against his chest and how quickly his body gets used to it.
“Yeah, I…” Peter half-smiles again. “That’s why I’m here. I think I might-“
Claude grabs at his shirt and yanks Peter against him before the young man can finish a sentence he’s not sure either of them is ready to hear.
Drops his head to kiss him only to find Peter surging up, at just the angle that results in bumped foreheads and more nervous chuckles all around, until Peter wraps a hand around the back of his neck and keeps him still.
*