Peter Petrelli (mimic_peter) wrote in 12monthsback,
Peter Petrelli

Date: December 23rd, 2005
Character(s): Peter Petrelli, Claire Bennet
Summary: It's Peter's birthday. He's not really that jazzed about it. (Yes, we went back in time just a little for this one. It's nothing to do with the time plot. Just us feeling bad for the poor bastard.)
Status: Complete.
Mostly private. If you have a good reason to be there, then ping.

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Tags: claire bennet, it's your birthday bitch, peter petrelli
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Peter gave her a soft smile and slowed down his walk a little, directing her around a corner instead of crossing the street. They'd kind of walked past the closest store to his apartment but thankfully New York had one on just about every corner.

"I wouldn't mind getting you for Christmas," he told her softly, knowing that it probably wasn't the best thing to say to her all things considering. But he had pretty much gotten her for Christmas and his birthday and while it complicated things, he liked having her there.

"But it's different. Daughters are a little more complicated," Peter added a little louder. And now he was going to change the subject.

"Can we still pick a couple calzones for lunch or something?"
"I know what you meant," Peter said, coming really close to reaching for her hand. If she did or said one more thing that pulled at his empathy and his nice guy instincts, then he probably would grab her hand. But he could hold himself back for the moment.

"I don't mind having you around either," he added. He didn't really consider it being stuck with her. It was just a complication that he needed to work through.

"Everything'll work out okay. I promise."
And that look would be what made him break past whatever barrier should've been holding him back. Peter sighed to himself and reached out, taking her hand in his. She needed to comforted and holding her hand was the only thing that he could think of that he could pretty much get away with in public. Being arrested on his birthday wasn't one of those things that he wanted to do.

"If you actually want to teach me how to make macaroni and cheese, we'll need a box of that," Peter said like there wasn't anything wrong. Hopefully she'd understand his little gesture without making him explain it.

"And whatever you want. You're the cook."
"I have butter," Peter protested. So maybe he wasn't the world's best grocery shopper or cook and he'd rather order something then cook something but he had more then she said he did.

"There was butter on the toast this morning," he pointed out. Though it'd probably be a good idea to get more since that supply had pretty much been exhausted on the toast.

Peter stopped walking for a few seconds, picking up a basket from a stack of them and offering it to her. "Don't get anything with peanuts and I'll eat whatever you decide to get."
"I'm kind of... allergic to peanuts," Peter told her and that was something of an understatement. The one time he'd had peanuts that he could remember, it was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich made by Angela herself ironically enough, and he'd ended up in the hospital with his stomach pumped and an IV in his arm. He'd learned pretty quick to stay away from anything with peanuts in it.

"So if you want me to die, then by all means, Claire, buy peanuts," he added, teasing her a little and squeezing her fingers lightly. She hadn't said anything about it, so he wasn't going to say anything about it. That was how things worked.

"Don't forget the cookie dough and the soda," Peter said, grinning a little bit.
Peter hadn't thought of the consequences of her power like that. Maybe he was completely over his allergy to peanuts now that he'd met her and absorbed her magical cure-all power. Maybe he wasn't. It wasn't something that he wanted to test out on his birthday. He didn't want to make a big deal of it... but he didn't want to die on it either.

"I never kid about cookie dough," Peter said, reaching out and grabbing a couple boxes of Hamburger Helper and tossing them into the basket. He could brown hamburger meat too but that was also because it was ridiculously easy.

"If you bake it though, I might have to kick you out."
"Don't be silly. Macadamia anything is expensive," Peter said, reaching out and grabbing a tube of oatmeal chocolate chip. It was his favorite kind of baked cookie. Kind of made sense that he liked the dough version of it the best too. "You can get another kind if that doesn't satisfy you," he added, trying to make sure that she didn't feel trapped by his decision.

He reached out a moment later and grabbed the first tub of butter that his fingers came into contact with. Then he tried to put it into the basket on her arm without her noticing. Obviously, it was a lot easier in theory then it was in practice.
Peter was pretty sure that she'd seen him putting the butter in the basket but she hadn't said anything and like when it came to holding her hand, he wasn't going to say anything about it if she wasn't. At least she wasn't the sort to throw it in his face that he'd kind of lied about having butter.

"We'll get both," he told her, reaching for the box for her and placing it and the cherry kind in the basket. That little basket seemed kind of full and she was tiny and that was what prompted his next statement.

"I can carry that if you want."
Peter eyed the soda for a few moments. It wasn't that he was object to it. There was nothing healthy about it which meant that he was pretty much guaranteed to like it. It just.. wasn't something that he would've assumed that she liked. Maybe if it was bright pink instead.

"I'm not saying a word," he said, holding up his free hand like he was surrendering. The hand lingered in the air for a few seconds before he reached out and grabbed a gallon of bottled water, just for her. Since she hated his water and water was one of those things that she needed to survive.

"If you tell me this tastes bad too, I don't even know what I'll do."
"Well too bad cause Evian's too expensive," Peter retorted, pulling out his wallet. If she even thought about paying, he'd slap her money out of her hand. She was technically the person staying with him and until she paid him for the rent and to be her boyfriend, it wasn't up to her to pay for the food. Even though he had next to no money himself.

Peter ignored the look that the cashier was giving them, squeezing Claire's hand tighter to reassurance. People could stare at them all they wanted. They weren't doing anything wrong technically. He held his nephews hands in public all the time. It was a little different since Claire wasn't related to him and about ten years older then his nephews and he'd... you know, slept with her. But whatever.

He reached for the heaviest bags, sparing her from having to carry them. "Come on," Peter said softly, tugging her away from the counter and the glaring woman.
Peter gave her a look. He didn't really want to try and avoid death on his birthday. But he didn't want to make a big deal out of his birthday, so it didn't matter if he tried to evade death today or tomorrow or the day after that. Except that would be Christmas.. but he wasn't looking forward to that day either.

He sighed. "One bite," Peter said, pointing his finger at her. "And if I die, then it's all your fault."
"Do you plan on carrying me there, Claire?" Peter asked, teasing her lightly. Since he didn't have a car and a cab driver would probably ask a lot of questions and take too long, it was probably the only option that she had. Besides the obvious which was calling an ambulance.

"I don't think you could even lift me off the ground," he added, shaking his head at her. Peter was by no means fat or overweight or even near the average weight for his height. She was just that tiny. Indestructible didn't make you strong necessarily.
Peter frowned at her slightly, arching his eyebrow in confusion. She did that sometimes. Said something that pretty much didn't fit in the context of the conversation, and he was sure that it made sense to her in her head but out loud? Kind of made her a big dork... and that was part of why he loved her so much, so he didn't even want to make her explain it. The dorkiness made it entirely Claire.

"I'm not even going to ask," Peter commented, shaking his head a little.
Peter eyed the ice cream thawing on the counter for a few seconds, before sighing to himself and reaching for his calzone. It was his birthday. That meant he had to have his favorite food of the moment, which was calzones. Last year it had been a meatball sandwich. It was a little tradition that he had that he hadn't shared with anyone.

"I'll try some of the blue soda," he told her in response to her expectant look.

"So long as you start drinking the tap water after that gallon of bottle water's gone."
Peter watched her push herself up on the counter, keeping any and all of his thoughts to himself. He didn't necessarily have a problem with her sitting on his counter. It wasn't like it was made out of anything quality. He just... had a problem with himself automatically thinking of their first kiss. Their first real kiss anyway.

He sighed to himself and shook his head lightly, staring down at his food for a few long seconds. The calzone was good. The soda was good. Hanging out with her is good. Everything was just good. Well, most everything.

"What else do you want to do today?"
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