Heroes Fan Fiction ❯ The Long Kiss Goodnight ❯ Oneshot ( Chapter 1 )

Summary: Devotion to another was a long kiss goodnight, trapped in time and not willing to break free. Peter/Claude

AN: Warnings for Episode 14, “Distractions” and some minor slash themes.

 

The Long Kiss Goodnight

 

Forty stories down and he kissed the pavement. Again. Claude sighed, and he was getting tired of throwing him off the building. Peter had still not found the means to fly.

 

`It's in him; I know,' he thought to himself. But if the boy kept whining and worrying about exploding, he'd never get anything done. He'd thought of the girl, always, and managed to regenerate, but it was funny how Peter couldn't even tap the powers of his own brother, rather than a stranger.

 

`There's some bad family rot going on there,' Claude mused to himself, as he came up and stood over Peter, who was popping the regenerating bones back into place.

 

“Shall we try it again?” Claude queried. Peter looked at him sourly. Claude wondered if Peter ever disliked anyone so much in his life as much as he did him. He grinned, further enraging the young man. `God, he wasn't going to start whining again, was he?'

 

Peter inhaled a scratchy draught of breath, and coughed out some blood. He wiped it away on his jacket. Determined, he replied, “Whatever it takes.”

 

Claude nodded, and felt a small sense of pride. At least he wasn't going to quit. And since they'd been together for a while, the whining had gone down considerably since the first day.

 

Claude held out his hand to help Peter up. Peter was surprised that he would even offer to help him.

 

He cocked his head and gave Peter a look that said, `Well, you earned it, but don't expect it all the time.' Though, Claude didn't know why he was suddenly being cordial either.

 

--

 

“Why do you keep thinking of that girl? What does she mean to you?” he asked. Peter was regenerating his limbs again.

 

“She's… I don't know her that well. She was someone I was supposed to save, to save the world,” Peter said honestly. Claude had wondered if she had been a friend or more, she had been nothing more than a stranger - a random girl he had to save.

 

“Who told you to save her?”

 

“Does it matter? I saved her, but the world still needs saving.”

 

“It's going to take a helluva lot more to save the world than just rescue some cheerleader. What about your brother?” Claude asked, and he watched the emotions change drastically on Peter's face.

 

“What about him?” He stiffened, and gave him a challenging stare.

 

“Why are you so afraid of him?”

 

“I…” Peter stuttered, and then replied defiantly, “I'm not!”

 

Claude turned around and started heading back inside the building. He glanced back at Peter, who was supposed to follow after him. The lesson was far from over.

 

“I'll believe that when you show me you can fly.”

 

Peter pursed his lips and scowled. Claude turned away.

 

--

 

Claude had forgotten what it was like for someone else to see him, talk to him, or even brush him with the smallest of touches. He, of course, preferred the solitude, to lessen the chance of betrayal.

 

He looked over at Peter who was sleeping on a park bench next to him. He had his arms crossed, closing himself off from the world. His head bobbed down over his chest as he fell into slumber.

 

Claude sighed.

 

He couldn't believe one small man could cause such destruction. And as much as he whined and acted like a spoiled brat, Claude knew that Peter's heart meant well. He was important, and it was becoming even more obvious as familiar men from his past had been lurking around the Petrelli home.

 

Peter was obviously special, but he was also in danger from those people, maybe even more than he was in danger of himself. Claude frowned, and realized how naïve Peter was. Good intentions couldn't save him all the time, and he would never learn to fully grasp his powers if he trusted everyone. Peter had found that out through the woman he loved, and even then he still chose to believe in her. He believed in the cheerleader too… and he didn't even know her!

 

His gaze swept the outline of Peter's sleeping face, taking in the smoothness of his skin and carefree motion of his hair. His breathing was steady and calm, but his face contorted in sadness.

 

Claude sighed, inhaling in the cool air, hoping it would numb his uneasy nerves. He looked at Peter one last time and saw him shiver.

 

He shifted his body, and moved closer to him, arm rubbing against Peter's. He sniffed the dry air, and Peter's warmth seeped into him.

 

--

 

“I have to go home,” Peter announced firmly after one of their sessions. Claude had finally gotten him to fly—barely, and it only took multiple times falling off a building, kicks to the gut and punches to the face to get him to do it. If only he would stop the moaning and groaning, the training might have been successful in half the time.

 

Now he was raving about his brother. “I had a dream… about Nathan. He's in trouble.”

 

Claude gave him a steely look, unmoving in his decision. “Are you bent? You can't go back. Why don't you listen to me?” Peter was about to protest, and then Claude stopped him and pointed a large, harsh finger into his lean chest. “You go back now you unlearn everything I ever taught you. Don't you get it? These people are all holding you back.”

 

“He's my brother!”

 

Claude lashed at him, “And you are intimidated by him. Do you always want to be known as Nathan's brother? Or as the youngest Petrelli? What about as Mr. Petrelli's estranged and disturbed son?”

 

“No!”

 

“Then who are you?” Claude asked through gritted teeth. He gave Peter a challenging stare, inches from his face. His eyes hardened, and Peter showed no sign of relenting.

 

Peter got in his face and sneered, “Just shut up! You know nothing about my family.” Peter turned around to walk away from him toward home. Claude continued to watch him in exasperation, knowing full well he was making a mistake.

 

“Okay then, I'll shut up. You're so worried about your brother, and you think I don't understand you. You need these people to help you save them… you need to use the way they make you feel. But remember this,” he had yelled as Peter continued to walk away. “How will your brother be when you've blown up? He'll be dead, just like thousands of other innocent people.”

 

Peter stopped, frozen by his words. Claude felt satisfaction, and continued to speak, “You'll never save him if you go back now. You haven't learned anything.”

 

Peter pursed his lips, and he whipped around and gave Claude a cold stare. He rushed up to him again and came inches from his face. Claude stood rigid, feeling the warmth radiating off him.

 

Peter hissed at him, “I have learned things, and I'll keep on learning … right until the end.”

 

Claude leaned in slightly and replied, “Prove it, mate. Just prove it.”

 

They paused, locked in a heated stare for a thick moment. Claude moved, and stretched out his arm to the door of the skyscraper. Peter looked at him and then inside.

 

It was time to fly again.

 

--

 

Claude watched Peter fly, hooting in elation as he zipped around the cold New York sky. The wondrous moment must have been contagious because a genuine smile cracked over Claude's tired face. Peter continued to buzz around happily, laughing and calling for Claude. “Look here, Mr. Invisible Man! I can fly!” His laughter saturated the sky, and Claude sighed. Once Peter had learned to fly, it was hard getting him to stop.

 

--

 

It had been a long time since Claude had been devoted to anyone. The last person he'd cared about had betrayed him. He had trusted him, and he used Claude like he was nothing more than a government dog.

 

But Peter was different. He could just feel it.

 

“So what are we going to do today?” Peter asked him anxiously as they roamed together down New York's bustling streets. Peter's disposition was brighter than usual. Claude could tell by the way his feet moved on the ground that he was just ready to take flight. Peter grinned boyishly at him.

 

“Well, I don't know,” Claude drawled. “What else can you do?”

 

“I could paint the future…” Peter answered, and Claude whistled.

 

“Oh yeah? Do you think you could paint a picture of me winning the lottery?” Claude teased him, and Peter rolled his eyes.

 

“Not if you're going to steal that lottery ticket from some poor defenseless old lady,” Peter replied in jest. Claude burst out laughing.

 

“Old ladies are defenseless? Oh come on, don't tell me you haven't learned anything from me?”

 

Peter laughed beside them as they continued their banter. The sun was high, and warmed the chilly early November air.

 

Claude inwardly sighed, drawing in the peace he felt as Peter walked beside him. Yes, it was good to have a companion again, even if he was just helping him to save the world. Looking at Peter, he felt content. The people on the streets bustled by without a care, fading into a shallow background

 

He scoffed. `The world, Peter … doesn't deserve you.'