Heroes Fan Fiction ❯ On Her 217th Birthday ❯ Oneshot ( Chapter 1 )

On Her 217th Birthday

 

When her husband asked her what she wanted for her birthday, Claire really didn't know how to answer him. What does someone who has lived 217 years really ask for anyway? She had a great career, a wonderful family and the best husband an immortal girl could ever want.

 

Despite the obvious circumstances, she was lucky enough to even call Peter Petrelli her husband. She was grateful that with the progression of Time, the dead could keep good secrets.

 

Better yet that her noble and heroic uncle actually loved her in return - enough to keep their secret sealed in the graves of her grandmother and real father, as well as among the ashes of a defeated Company.

 

At first, the both of them felt ashamed for their feelings. They spent several years living as platonic friends, denying the urges and rationalizing their true feelings. Peter was more adamant than she was about keeping up appearances. She remembered when he was so careful to wait until the last of his friends and family had passed on to even start considering loving her openly.

 

When their last friend, Micah Sanders, had passed away, both Peter and Claire had decided to move on together. They left the United States and found haven in France, by leading new lives.

 

This was all they could do. The moment Peter had turned forty and still looked 25, they knew that their immortality would sneak up to them. In reality, they were never going to age or die, and if they didn't stay together, they would bear an overwhelming loneliness that neither of them were prepared to face without each other.

 

Then, on one renewed morning in their cottage in the south of France, Claire Bennet and Peter Petrelli started life over in each other's arms where whispers of their blood relationship faded into a forgotten myth.

 

And Claire Bennet finally got what she had always wanted - a family with the one and only man she ever loved.

 

--

 

"Shanti quarter for your thoughts?" A familiar hand appeared before her face, holding a russet coin of international money. Claire smiled, taking the quarter and turning around, meeting her husband's jubilant, dark eyes. A hover car passed by their skyscraper window, but the noise barely fazed her as his fingers caressed her cheek. She remembered the first time he had done that, and as the blood rushed through her body, the memory hardly felt two centuries old.

 

"I missed you. Where've you been?" she asked with a pout. Peter's smile only intensified.

 

"I was only gone for a few minutes to order the food." He leaned down and whispered in her ear, making her skin tingle. "We have a whole lifetime together; a few minutes aren't really going to matter."

 

Claire pushed her hair behind her shoulder and harrumphed. She stood up and trailed a finger down his chest. "Says you. You should be a little bit more considerate on my birthday and spend every moment with me."

 

Peter clasped his hands together apologetically, his crooked smile returning. "I'm trying." Claire smiled sweetly at him, leaning up to place a quick kiss on his chin. He pushed a strand of her golden hair behind her ear. "Wouldn't you rather spend your birthday at that brand new restaurant in Tokyo with the lightning fast head chef? I heard he could whip out a dragon roll boat in 2 seconds. We could fly there right now."

 

Claire rolled her eyes, obviously picking up on his enthusiasm. "Peter, that's where you want to go, and when it's your birthday, we'll take a trip, the first flight out even." She winked at him. "But for my birthday, I want to stay inside." She took his hands into hers, blushing. "With you."

 

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Stay home on your birthday? Getting old are we?"

 

Claire snorted a laugh. "You sure as hell know that isn't true." She leaned in, rubbing her body against him. She felt him rock into her. "Or have you forgotten where we were last night?"

 

"Somewhere in the Himalayas." Peter licked his lips. "It was freezing cold, but definitely new."

 

"It was fun right? And even naked our healing powers kicked right in." Claire giggled. "With these powers, we have so many possibilities. How old will we be when we run out of ideas?"

 

Peter wrapped his arms around her and swung her body into his. "It doesn't matter if we run out of ideas. We'll have each other - for another 217 years probably."

 

"Now that..." Her eyes sparkled, and she bent in and pecked his chin in between her words. "Is a good birthday present. The best and most reliable one I get every year."

 

Peter sighed. "You're too easy." He frowned slightly. "Though I wish there was something you wanted that I could get you - something tangible at least."

 

Claire shook her head. "You don't have to try so hard, Peter. I know you're stretched for ideas."

 

"No," he said sternly, although he was playing her game. "It just means that each year I have to get more creative and unpredictable."

 

Claire stilled in his swaying arms, and she looked up into his face with anticipation. Her voice came out into a squeal. "Peter Petrelli, did you get me something?"

 

Peter feigned innocence, though he looked away with a guilty expression. "Maybe."

 

Claire bounced, squealing with anticipation and clapping her hands. “What did you get me? Can I see it?”

 

Peter grabbed her clapping hands, his eyes peering into hers calmly. “I know you're going to love it, but you're just going to wait until after dinner.” He bent down, and she felt her skin tingle as his breath roamed over her cheek. He whispered, “Maybe even after dessert.”

 

Claire giggled, squeezing Peter's hands. The doorbell of their suite rang, startling Claire out her reverie.

 

“That was fast,” she said, and Peter gave her a lazy grin.

 

“Only the best for the Petrelli family. Sometimes it's not a bad thing to be a well-respected dynasty,” Peter said.

 

“Humph,” Claire said, still smiling. “Maybe, but sometimes I'd like to walk down the street without people snapping pictures of us.”

 

Peter shook his head and held up his hand. “Hold that thought. I'm going to go grab the food, and then we can continue your segues to trick me into telling you about my present.”

 

Claire's jaw dropped with indignation. “Peter Petrelli!” She swatted him on the arm. “How can you say that about me?”

 

His grin grew wider. “Because I know how you are Claire Petrelli.” He winked, and turned heel to grab their dinner.

 

--

 

Their dinner felt rushed, as if time suspended them in a comfortable haze. With laughter and memories filling up the sated atmosphere, Claire and Peter reminisced about the old days, the days where a moment like this would have been unthinkable.

 

"I miss them, you know," Claire said, and Peter knew exactly who she was referring to. He watched her bright eyes fill with momentary sadness.

 

He put his fork down, pushing the empty plate away. "I know," he said sympathetically, falling into her open thoughts and seeing visions of their children, all of them they had outgrown.

 

"I mean, I'm glad we got a chance to see them grow up. They were some of the best times of my life." Claire swirled her fork in the tiramisu, which looked a little flat after some neglect.

 

"Claire, whenever we talk about Sadie, Lisa, Vincent, Boden and their children, we always end up feeling sad instead of how we really should be feeling." He smiled and took her hand, squeezing it lightly and then catching her gaze. "But we always have to remember, they are an extension of us, and we are blessed to see their offspring grow up and keep this family strong. We always knew that being immortal would have some setbacks, and I for one, am glad we can even have children."

 

Thoughts of the talk they had with Dr. Padme Suresh filtered within Claire's mind and seeped into Peter's. The doctor was one of their many confidantes, and of course, Dr. Mohinder Suresh's granddaughter, who took on his work as a geneticist. When they had asked if their blood line would complicate any pregnancies or the health of their children, they were relieved to find out that their healing powers provided the crutch they needed to ensure healthy children.

 

The only other problem was could they have children and live with the obvious plight of watching them die before them?

 

"You're right, Peter." Claire scoffed. "I feel so silly thinking about this every birthday. Of course, I'm happy about how large the Petrelli family has become, and I would never give any of those years back. And..." she continued, "our great-great granddaughter Olivia introduced me to her fiance yesterday."

 

Peter raised an eye brow. This was news to him. He watched his wife with interest. Claire beamed at him.

 

"It's so funny because Olivia always had this strange crush on you, but she knew that she never had a chance. The other day, she informed me she had more than moved on; she had a fiance."

 

"Well, that's impulsive of her. Go on," Peter replied.

 

"Anyway, the guy she's marrying happens to be named Peter as well," Claire said, with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

 

Peter sighed heavily. "That girl will never learn."

 

Claire's smile grew. "It gets better. His last name is Ancona."

 

Peter's eyes widened. "You're kidding! As in, Marco Ancona who married Maria, Monty's granddaughter?"

 

Claire nodded. "The very same. Our great granddaughter is marrying into the Ancona family, which is our blood relation."

 

Peter grunted. "I can't believe it. Some things never change."

 

Claire laughed. "All in the family." She shrugged. "It's not like she really knew. There's been a couple generations in-between."

 

"But still..." Peter appeared slightly upset. "I can't believe that even our kids can't get away from the Petrelli bloodline."

 

Claire got up from her chair, walking over to him and placing a comforting hand over his shoulder. She leaned against him. "Hey, don't worry so much. Genetic Sexual Attraction -- it runs in the family, right? Besides..." She bent down and whispered in his ear. "We turned out alright, and we are probably the guiltiest of them all."

 

Peter turned around, slightly less perturbed from her soothing. "You're right, of course. I will have to meet this guy though." His eyes darkened slightly, and he furrowed his brow. Claire laughed at him, leaning down and hugging him from behind.

 

"Oh, come on, you old sour puss, when are you going to give me that birthday dance?" Claire asked him, directing his attention elsewhere. Peter rose from his seat and embraced his wife.

 

"Shouldn't we clean up dinner first?"

 

Claire shook her head, reaching up and tracing Peter's jaw with her finger. "Nah, the cleaning staff can do that. We are the Petrellis, after all."

 

"Claire, you know we shouldn't milk the name," Peter chided.

 

She laughed. "So we aren't one of the most influential super-powered families around the globe who have won numerous humanitarian awards and, may I remind you, two nobel peace prizes?"

 

Peter pursed his lips, and when he couldn't resist the smile on her face, he grinned. "Alright, so we are a little important."

 

She swung her body against his. "Now that's more like it. So, how about that dance?"

 

Peter nodded, leaning down and kissing the top of her head. He watched her close her eyes in contentment. "Alright," he said. "What shall we play?"

 

"Hrmm... I'm in the mood for smooth modern jazz, how about Shelly Cole?"

 

He looked down at her with a wry grin. "Now Claire, you know what Shelly Cole always leads to."

 

There was a twinkle in her eye, and she embraced him harder. "Of course I do, Peter." Then, she slowly led him the middle of their living room, ordering the computer to play a collection of tracks.

 

--

 

Claire leaned against him, resting her head against his chest as their bodies swayed to the music. Residual thoughts of their children danced in her mind, and she tried to set them aside so she could enjoy her birthday with Peter.

 

Thoughts of her children both delighted and saddened her. And she didn't want those feelings to destroy this quiet, beautiful night.

 

"Your thoughts are noisy," Peter said, resting his chin on her head.

 

"I'm sorry," she said, continuing to slow dance with him to the soft music.

 

"I love you," he said, and for words that were so simple and true, they always touched her deeply anyway.

 

"I love you, Peter." She stopped dancing, and she released herself from his arms to look into his eyes.

 

He watched her, calculating her next move. "The song's not over yet, Claire." His eyes seemed to burn into hers.

 

"Computer, dim the lights by fifty percent," she ordered, and the soft, yellow lighting turned into a light brownish hue. They seemed so quiet and isolated as the dark corners began to hug them.

 

"Peter, I know that you said you wanted to give me a gift, but I don't want it,"Claire said resolutely.

 

"What?" She guessed he'd be surprised, but she could detect a offended tone in his voice.

 

"Not that I wouldn't love whatever you give me, but when you turn 217 years old, and you're part of the richest and most powerful families on the planet, you start to lose interest in tangible things - or at least, things anyone could just buy or make."

 

"Go on," Peter said, noticing she wasn't finished with her explanation.

 

Claire sighed. "What I'm trying to say is that there's only one thing I want for my birthday." She furrowed her brow and clenched her jaw in concentration, not sure how to tell him, but she assumed he already knew since the thoughts have been on the surface of her mind for some time.

 

"I want another baby." She exhaled heavily, prepared for his usual chastising. She was sure he would be against the idea. They had so many children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews, and descendants through the generations. Having another child would just present the same problem they had difficulty accepting: watching their children grow old and die before them.

 

"Claire..." Peter's voice was soft, much gentler than she was prepared for. He drew her into his arms and held her close, kissing her forehead. "It's alright." He laughed a little. "I've already known what you wanted for awhile now."

 

"Really?" She shouldn't feel so surprised. He was Peter Petrelli after all, one of the world's most powerful Empaths. And he knew her - so it wasn't like she could keep anything from him. They'd been together so long she felt as though they were one person.

 

He drew away from her and placed his hands on her shoulders. He stopped their dancing and automatically, they moved over to the couch, sitting down as Peter spoke to her. "It's hardly a secret, Claire. I know you've been trying to get closer with Olivia, and you've butt heads with her and her mother as she begins to grow up and have a life of her own. Claire, you always see your children as kids, even when they grow to be eighty. It's wonderful how you're so protective of them, but I know you're just holding on."

 

Tears glistened in Claire's eyes. "I know. I just... I miss being a mom. I miss it, and sometimes I just hope that maybe this time I'll get to grow old with them. I know that won't happen, and I'm glad that you're at least with me."

 

"But we're not perfect, Claire, no matter what the public says about us. It's not easy being immortal." Peter snorted a laugh. "Just ask Adam."

 

"I'd rather not," Claire said, bristling, and after a pregnant pause, the two of them burst into chuckles.

 

"Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that I've known that you've been wanting another child lately, and I'm here for you." He took her hand and braided his fingers in hers. "My gift to you on your 217th birthday is another child, Claire Petrelli."

 

She squealed, jumping into his arms. "Oh Peter!" He laughed, hugging her tighter and then shifting their bodies as he fell over her.

 

He whispered, "The only problem is how I'm going to give you this gift."

 

Claire raised an eye brow and grinned at him. "Problem?" She kissed his lips lightly. "I don't see a problem, do you?" She arched her body against him.

 

"Well, you being fully clothed seems to be the problem," he purred. She smirked at him and pushed him off her. He watched her intently as she stood up and drew the sleek dress over her head. He reached an arm to her, and drew her in, reaching behind her back and snapping off her bra. They watched as it dropped to the floor, and he lifted his gaze to her youthful breasts, tight and full, preserved from time.

 

He let a sigh escape as she wiggled out of her panties, leaning closer to him. He shifted his eyes to hers. A naughty intention gleamed in her eyes.

 

"Your turn." And he took her hands, directing her over. His face was inches from hers, and he nuzzled his nose against hers.

 

"You know what to do," he said, a sensual edge in his whisper, heating her blood.

 

Slowly, her dainty hands pulled at his belt, the buttons on his shirt, and the elastic band of his boxers. He threw his head back against the couch as she slipped his drawers down his legs, settling on her knees between his legs. His body tensed as her hair ghosted across his thighs, and he inhaled a heavy draught of air as he felt her hands caress against his erection.

 

"Claire," he choked out, and her hot mouth was over him, sucking at the head, and trailing a tongue down his shaft. He twitched in her mouth, and her lips clamped around him, licking hard.

 

"Ungh," he moaned, his leg muscles tensing. "You're so good at this." He grabbed the hair on her head, drawing her mouth deeper over him and sucking him slowly. She made a noise, and with one more lick, he felt his body tense, and he jerked upward as she let go, swallowing the remnants of his sex that dribbled down her mouth.

 

"Well, it feels more like my birthday than yours," he teased. Claire grinned seductively at him, tracing a finger down his shaft again and feeling it tense for a second surge.

 

"I like tasting you," she said, standing up and then settling herself over his lap. Her wet clit rubbed against him, and he groaned, hardening under her. She wrapped her arms around him, rubbing her breasts against his chest.

 

"We're far from over," she said, and the heat in the air charged between them.

 

"I'd say," he said, placing his lips over hers, drawing her tongue into his mouth. She mewled, feeling him buck against her. She moved her hips over his, trying to urge him inside.

 

His strong hands rubbed her sides, falling over her breasts. She panted, and he titled her body back. She felt his breath over her chest, and then his tongue trailed over her pert nipples. She bounced over his lap, desperate for him to be inside her. He chuckled.

 

"Take it slow, Claire, sweetie; take it slow," he said against her skin, and he drew a nipple into his mouth, tugging and nipping as he delighted in her moans. He moved to treat the other one, and Claire sighed and heaved to his every touch.

 

"Peter, please," she begged, and he broke from her breasts, taking her mouth with his again. She kissed him eagerly and fervently, lapping up every last drop of his taste.

 

His arms shifted, rubbing against her ribs and then falling onto her hips. He lifted her, slowly plunging into her. She mewled in delight, immediately moving her hips over him.

 

He gasped, thrusting into her tightness, arching his hips up as she pushed hard, steadying evenly with his pace. He took it slow, soaking up the time around them as he pistoned inside of her.

 

"God, Claire," Peter groaned, trying to guide them slow to revel every second. And as she pumped over him, he drew her mouth into his again, teasing her tongue and trailing kisses down her neck.

 

She was hot, tight and fast over him, and she pulled him inside with all her love. Somewhere in between ecstasy they rose and broke together, and when Claire screamed, Peter gasped, emptying himself inside her.

 

For Claire... he thought, wanting more than anything to make her a mother again - to continue this family so his wife could continue to love. He knew that she always had so much to give, too.

 

"Peter!" Her body tensed, and she paused, and her eyes opened widely. He wondered if they were seeing the same stars.

 

When she came back down, he kissed her tenderly, pulling her into a comfortable, glowing embrace on their couch. He traced a finger over the moist skin of her shoulder, and she nuzzled her head under his chin.

 

"That was a wonderful gift," Claire said, regaining her breath.

 

Peter chuckled. "There was more to it than that," he assured.

 

"Are you certain?" Claire drew slowly from him, reading his eyes.

 

He touched her cheek lovingly, staring at her. "Yes. I'm certain." He gave her his classic crooked smile. "I am an empath after all."

 

She stuck her tongue out at him playfully. "I haven't forgotten. I just... I want to make sure." She rubbed a hand over her stomach, and he squeezed her against him just a little tighter. They feel into the satiated silence of the afterglow.

 

Then, after a quiet moment, he whispered with a kiss. "Don't worry. It'll be okay."

 

"I know," Claire said. She tilted her head to his gaze. "This is one of the best gifts you have given me, Peter, other than being my husband." She smiled, and Peter knew she was holding back tears of joy. "I don't know what I would have done if I had to spend eternity without you."

 

"Ah," he said, his eyes shining with laughter. "That would have never happened. If there was anywhere I belonged more, it was with you." He planted a lingering kiss on her lips. "You're my future, Claire, every day."

 

She giggled. "I know."

 

"Now," he said, drawing away from her. She gave him a perplexed look, wondering why he would interrupt their cuddling. He grinned mischievously at her. "Get dressed. I have to give you the second part of your gift."

 

"There's more?" Claire asked, rising from the couch. Peter was putting his clothes back on, and she inwardly pouted at not being able to bask in his glorious nakedness. Reluctantly, she put on her clothes as well.

 

"Of course," he said, buttoning up his shirt and then bopping a finger on her nose. "You deserve much more than that, Claire Petrelli."

 

"I can't believe you would give me more," she huffed, and he only grinned at her.

 

"You deserve it, and you know it." When she was fully dressed, he grabbed her hand. "C'mon, we're going to take a little trip."

 

She pulled him back, pausing them. "Hey, I told you I didn't want to leave the house, so that means no sushi or whatever for you, buster."

 

Peter couldn't resist, so he drew her against him again. "C'mon, Claire." His sensual voice fell over her ears,and made her body tingle. If he kept it up, she'd be ready for a round two. "Trust me. You'll forgive me once you see what I have left to give you."

 

Claire sighed and nodded. "Fine. This better be good."

 

Peter's smile couldn't have beamed brighter. "Oh, it is." He hugged her tighter, and when she blinked, she felt a familiar, tightening sensation in her belly.

 

Claire stifled a gasp and realized what was happening. They were time-traveling.

 

--

 

When she opened her eyes, her blurred vision suddenly turned crisp, revealing a warm and happy atmosphere. Myriad voices and laughter filled her ears, and she looked around, instantly realizing where they were.

 

She heard the voices hush, and her eyes fell onto a man in the center of the room who was very familiar to her. She gasped.

 

"Dad!" she whispered, and she felt Peter squeeze her hand.

 

Shhh, he said using telepathy. Just watch.

 

Organ music filled the church, and everyone turned toward the end of the aisle, watching as the bridal party slowly filtered in. She saw younger versions of her mother and father's friends, as well some she'd never met, walking down arm and arm as the wedding ceremony began.

 

Claire covered her hands over her mouth. She couldn't believe what she was seeing! It was her mother and father's wedding.

 

She turned around to face Peter, and her eyes were alit with abounding joy. Peter leaned in and whispered softly, "You're going to miss it. Pay attention."

 

When the wedding march sounded, Claire snapped her attention to her mother, beautiful and full of youth, walking slowly down the aisle hanging on her grandfather's arm. There was a modest yet natural rouge that complimented her cheeks, and Claire studied the elation in her mother's face as she properly held it back for the ceremony. Claire's eyes traveled down her mother's dress, old fashioned with sequins and puffed sleeves, and she almost laughed as she noticed her mother's big Texas hair, held in place with a sturdy hair spray.

 

She's beautiful, Claire thought, and Peter squeezed her hand tighter.

 

As the ceremony drew on, Claire's tears mirrored the tears of her young mother. She watched intently as her mother and father took their vows, and she felt inclined to clap with everyone when the groom kissed the bride. Peter and Claire followed the wedding party outside, watching as everyone threw rice, and her father and mother retreated inside a horse drawn carriage, waving to everyone as they rode down toward their hotel, ready to spend the night together and then go away on their honeymoon the next morning.

 

When everyone had left, Claire and Peter stood at the empty church, and Claire watched the direction where her mother and father disappeared in their bliss, and her smile never disappeared.

 

"Peter," she said, and she felt him watching her. "I know I've said this already, but that was the most amazing gift ever."

 

Peter turned from her sheepishly, and she wondered if his senses were overwhelmed by her joy. She leaned in and snaked an arm around his back.

 

He shifted in her grasp, and he framed her face with his hands. He kissed her gently, and then he smiled at her mesmerized expression.

 

"I would do anything for you, Claire; you know that."

 

"Yes, but that was... I never expected." Her voice trailed off, replaced by a goofy grin. "You always find ways to surprise me."

 

"Believe me, it's worth seeing that look on your face," he said, and she blushed.

 

"This look on my face is entirely because of you. We're living forever, and you never bore me. I feel like the luckiest woman in the world." She leaned her head against him again, closing her eyes as she soaked in his warmth.

 

"I'm the lucky one here," he said very quietly. They stood in each other's arms for a moment, enjoying as the Texas sun fell into the slumbering violet horizon.

 

"I think we should get going back to our own time," Peter said, and Claire nodded against him.

 

"Mmm. Yes," she agreed. She grinned cheekily at him. "As I recall, someone owes me some post-coital cuddle time."

 

Peter laughed, tapping her chin. "Oh, don't worry about that. I'll make it up to you." His voice rang with more promises, more delicious than the last.

 

He pulled Claire swiftly against his chest, and she barely had time to breathe when he blinked them back through time - returning to their true home.

 

Then, Claire joyfully pondered if her next birthdays would be this wonderful, and as long as she was with Peter, she knew that they would be.

 

END