Fic: Tell Me A Story
Dec. 11th, 2007 08:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
iliaTitle: Tell Me A Story
Author: Lady Yueh
Fandom: Heroes
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Not my property and no infringement is intended.
Character(s): Peter Petrelli. Claire Bennett.
Date: December 11
Author’s Notes: For the 11th day of my Advent Calender I give you a sad little drabble of AU happenings. Any DW readers will recognize what I've been watching. *is exhausted*
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“Christmas.”
The comment, so random and unexpected, befuddled him for a moment.
“Yeah, it’s next week.”
“What did,” Claire paused, her eyes, the victims of sorrow, were measuring. She was cautious and considered everything in the way of a someone who had been deeply wounded. Such a change from the bright and hopeful girl that she’d been only months before that it made him ache. “What did you do for Christmas? Before all this?” she questioned in a reserved manner.
He saw what she wanted--what they all wanted--a return to better and simpler times.
He was old enough to know there was no going back, but foolish enough to harbor childish ideals and indulge in impossible desires.
So he told her.
He wove her a story of warm dinners, well-worn teasing and numerous brightly wrapped gifts. Apple cider, candy canes, cookies and milk.
“You’re so full of it,” she smiled and for once it touched her eyes, slightly but undoubtedly present.
“Yeah,” he agreed and couldn’t help the smile on his own face.
Author: Lady Yueh
Fandom: Heroes
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Not my property and no infringement is intended.
Character(s): Peter Petrelli. Claire Bennett.
Date: December 11
Author’s Notes: For the 11th day of my Advent Calender I give you a sad little drabble of AU happenings. Any DW readers will recognize what I've been watching. *is exhausted*
--------
“Christmas.”
The comment, so random and unexpected, befuddled him for a moment.
“Yeah, it’s next week.”
“What did,” Claire paused, her eyes, the victims of sorrow, were measuring. She was cautious and considered everything in the way of a someone who had been deeply wounded. Such a change from the bright and hopeful girl that she’d been only months before that it made him ache. “What did you do for Christmas? Before all this?” she questioned in a reserved manner.
He saw what she wanted--what they all wanted--a return to better and simpler times.
He was old enough to know there was no going back, but foolish enough to harbor childish ideals and indulge in impossible desires.
So he told her.
He wove her a story of warm dinners, well-worn teasing and numerous brightly wrapped gifts. Apple cider, candy canes, cookies and milk.
“You’re so full of it,” she smiled and for once it touched her eyes, slightly but undoubtedly present.
“Yeah,” he agreed and couldn’t help the smile on his own face.
