hardparade | (no subject)

A CRACKED SMILE & A SILENT SHOUT
a peter/claire ficmix

to claire from peter:

o1. open your eyes // snow patrol [download]
all this feels strange and untrue, and i won't waste a minute without you
my bones ache, my skin feels cold, and i'm getting so tired and so old
the anger swells in my guts, and i won't feel these slices and cuts
i want so much to open your eyes 'cause i need you to look into mine

It only exists in words -- Nathan's, "Claire's my daughter" -- nothing else. He didn't watch her grow up, he didn't go to school plays or birthday parties, didn't baby-sit her while Nathan worked. She was never at a family Christmas -- he never saw her watching wide-eyed from a high chair, or knocking over ornaments with a brand new jump rope.

Every day, he waits for her to feel like his niece. He waits for the day he'll stop noticing the way her clothes cling and hang, the day his heart won't skip a beat when she throws her arms around him for a hug, the day when she'll feel like a part of the family.

It never comes.

He waits anyway, with a sort of dull obligation, spinning through emotions in the hopes of finding one that feels right.

o2. silent shout // the knife [download]
wish i could speak in just one sweep what you are and what you mean to me
instead i mumble randomly, you stand by and enlighten me
(...) a cracked smile and a silent shout

She says things like "You don't really talk to me anymore," and "Do you still care about me, Peter?", faux-casual, sitting on the sofa in the living room and painting her nails.

He hesitates, fumbling for the right words, but the right words don't exist, and he just says stupid, nonsensical things, whispering "Don't," and "We can't do this," and never quite knowing if he wants her to understand or not.

She strokes his cheek, fingertips smelling sharp and medicinal; nail polish remover. She tells him she knows how he feels, and he wonders how that can possibly be true, but Claire's never been much of a liar, and he tells her so.

She tells him she knows, tears beginning to slide down her cheeks, and he leaves the room to stop himself kissing them away.

o3. brand new colony // the postal service [download]
i want to take you far from the cynics in this town and kiss you on the mouth
we'll cut our bodies free from the tethers of this scene, start a brand new colony
where everything will change, we'll give ourselves new names, identities erased

They kiss at lunchtime on a Saturday, alone in the house. They're in the kitchen, making sandwiches over idle banter and crumbling pretenses. Claire comes too close -- her hair brushes his arm and he can feel the warmth of her, and in a split second his heart is racing and he's not sure if he'll be able to stay in control.

He slips and cuts his finger, fumbling with the knife and slicing his skin. For a moment he panics, but then remembers, and they watch as the cut seals itself, skin neatly knitting back together.

He looks at her, heart in his throat. "Thank you," he says, because ever since they met she's been saving him from injury, simply by being there, sharing her power with him.

She wipes the blood away, starts to whisper "You're welcome," but stops herself, and their lips meet over manners and defeat.

o4. augustine // patrick wolf [download]
and look, your skirt is torn and there's blood on our sheets
as comes the long arm of the law, fist tight, banging on the door
and knocking me down on its way in

She sleeps in the attic, and she tells him she hates it, makes her feel like an embarrassing family secret hidden away.

He sneaks up there too often for stolen kisses away at the top of the house. She makes him feel like a teenager, needy and wild and desperate for more.

They sleep together on Christmas Eve, the wine and bright lights disconnecting their brains, and they hurry to the attic, senseless and dizzy and clutching at each other. She's wearing an old dress of Ma's, all smooth black satin, and he doesn't think about it as he drags down the zipper. She steps back, nervous and naked and shy. He takes her in his arms, and she takes him to the bed.

The party continues downstairs, oblivious.

A police siren sounds somewhere in the distance, and Claire presses her lips to Peter's collarbone, moaning softly against sweat-slick skin.

to peter from claire:

o5. the walk // imogen heap [download]
it's not meant to be like this, not what i planned at all
i don't want to feel like this, yeah
no, it's not meant to be like this, not what i planned at all
i don't want to feel like this, so that makes it all your fault
(...) stop that now; you're as close as it gets without touching me
oh no, don't make it harder than it already is

When it comes to the Petrelli family, there is no such thing as personal space. Claire learns this quickly -- not firsthand but from witnessing the way Nathan and Peter interact. They seem to be unable to have a conversation without touching each other; it's always tight hugs and hands on shoulders.

Things are different with her and Peter. He doesn't avoid her (at least not at first) but he never touches her, and when she touches him he always flinches and draws back, avoids eye contact.

Her crush on him is the kind that doesn't go away, and it makes her angry more than anything else. It's frustrating. She's angry at fate.

Discovering that the mysterious, life-saving older man she'd been dreaming about was her uncle was complicated enough, but now he's always around, always so close but never touching her, and it's enough to drive her crazy.

o6. heart // stars [download]
all right, i can say what you want me to
all right, i can do all the things you do
all right, i'll make it all up for you
i'm still in love with you, i'm still in love with you

She works it all out quickly, and she's proud of herself, because it's not an easy task. She's always been quite good at guessing how people are feeling, and when she really thinks about it all -- the electricity she felt in those first meetings with Peter, the way he barely looks at her now, the fact that whenever she confronts him he just looks away, mumbling protests against things she hasn't even suggested -- it doesn't take long to connect the dots.

But something inside her makes her think, for some reason, that he must know best, and if he wants to pretend, she can do that. She boxes up all her feelings and she shuts them away, and it doesn't matter how difficult it is, because she's doing it for him.

She keeps herself strong with the thought that neither of them will be able to resist forever.

o7. amazed // poe [download]
with you there's no easy answer, it's true, you change the equation that i add up to
and all of the things that i thought i knew, you turn it around
(...) i'm amazed when push comes to shove what i'd give to you, everything
i'm amazed, the walls that i wouldn't mind crashing through
and i'd do it for days and days

It always bothered her that when she saved his life, she did it in such a passive way. Pulling a shard of glass out of his head -- anyone could've done that. It doesn't even compare to what he did for her -- leaping off the side of a building, breaking half his bones. She'd do that for him, and so much more, in a heartbeat. If given the chance. It scares her sometimes.

But then they're in the attic, hiding away, and he runs a hand along her thigh underneath her skirt (the thrill of his fingers on her skin will never go away, she's sure of it, and every second without him touching her is hell), and whispers, "Thank you."

"What for?"

"For getting me to give in to this," he tells her, lips brushing against her neck. "You've saved my life."

o8. fight like the night // malcolm middleton [download]
you can be my hero, by not letting me down
not letting me down again, and being around
you can be my hero, by crawling into the rut
crawling into the rut with me, and holding my chin up
(...) if this is it, if it’s really the end, let’s commit sins and collect sand

New Year's Eve is when everything starts to go wrong. Everything but them.

"Peter, it's all up to us," she whispers, and he holds her tightly. He's taking a big risk, sleeping up in the attic with her, but it's difficult to be worried about things like that when their lives are on the line and the world is close to ending.

"There are others," Peter murmurs, but they both know there aren't as many as there used to be. He looks her in the eye. "It'll be all right, Claire. You trust me, don't you?"

She nods, and when she replies, she knows it's not the answer he expects, but something she said a long time ago. Her voice comes out tired and quiet, nothing like the first time. She presses a trembling hand to his cheek.

"You're totally my hero."

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