Fic: Cleaning Up So Well
Rating: G
Word Count: 847
Disclaimer: Heroes characters belong to Tim Kring.
A/N: For the Plaude Bingo prompt "dancing." Of course, with a prompt like that this had to be a little multimedia- just open the link in a new tab/window when you come to it.
Summary: Claude's late to the First Annual Company Holiday Party.
The sharpest of the guilt doesn’t bubble up to the surface of Claude’s mind until he steps into the hotel ballroom. The party is what one man working more or less on his own could manage, but he can feel it becoming more than the sum of its parts as he looks around at the happily mingling crowd. Peter’s done it- half an hour in and anyone could tell, the First Annual Company Holiday Party is a success. And Claude is performing the only action he’s made in support of such a thing: putting on the best of his three suits and showing up.
To be fair, it’s not like Peter had time to prod him into helping with the preparations. After Claude’s initial scoffing response to the idea, Peter all but vanished into a series of meetings and venue-scouting trips and a million other tiny details that made this all possible. And without a pair of sad brown eyes digging into his soul, Claude found it fairly easy to forget about the whole thing, until an elegant invitation appeared in his inbox one morning and his heart lurched with the knowledge that he’d Messed Up.
It takes him the better part of fifteen minutes to find Peter in the crowd, all while battling the powerful instinct to run, just run. The one that kept him in the apartment for nearly a half-hour later than the time on the invitation. He knows that false prophet for what it is, and he’ll die before he’ll let it take this one good thing away from him.
Peter’s there, looking amazing, as usual. Holding a glass of champagne, smiling and laughing and chatting and Claude knows he’s the only one who sees the miniscule gleam of anxiety underneath. When the empath moves on from the guest he was speaking to, Claude steps up beside him and wraps a hand around his arm.
Peter jumps, and Claude realizes with a degree of embarrassment that he’s been invisible since entering the room. Still, he doesn’t let that distract him from watching the surprise fade into a subtle relaxation before being covered up with annoyance. “Claude, I didn’t think you were coming.”
He tries for a grin, “RSVP’d didn’t I?”
He gets a fraction of one in return, “Yeah.”
Do it quick, like a band-aid, he tells himself. “Look, I’m sorry, Pete. Should’ve- I should’ve helped out, with all this. It was important to you.”
Peter absorbs his admission, gaze unreadable, which is better than alternatives. “I didn’t expect you to, really. But, yeah, it would’ve been nice.”
Claude registers the sting in his heart, clenches his jaw a bit. “Well, either way, you’ve done a fantastic job, mate.”
He gets a real smile for that. The anxiety eases from Peter’s frame. “You think so?”
“Sure. Look around, everyone’s havin’ a good time. An’ that’s a feat, with a company Christmas party.”
Peter points a finger at him from around his champagne glass, “Holiday party, okay? We’re all inclusive.”
“Oh, right, I see, and those were just very odd growths on that pine tree out in the lobby, yeah?”
“That’s for Toys for Tots. And there better be a toy from you under that tree.”
Claude just smiles, knowing the stuffed puppy dog is headed for a good home. Silence descends, though a much more comfortable one than it might’ve been. Claude looks around the room again, at the people going back for seconds from the buffet, the groups of people talking, the pairs out on the dance floor in front of the DJ, swaying to something slow. “Hey, Pete, wanna dance?” the question’s out before he realizes he’s even thought it.
Peter looks as surprised as he feels, “Uh, really?”
Too late now. Claude shrugs, and flashes another smile. When he holds up a hand, Peter takes it, and they walk together to the dance floor. Claude’s hands rest easily on Peter’s waist, Peter’s free arm curls around his shoulder and his chin touches Claude’s collarbone. Claude lets out a small sigh of relief- yes, he did Mess Up, but it’s not the big one. Not yet. Peter turns his head to press his cheek against the fabric of Claude’s suit, and they sway along with their coworkers to the old tune.
“We’re invisible, aren’t we,” Peter says.
“Yeah. Don’t have to be, if you don’t want to.” He’d dare anyone to make a fuss about the two of them, tonight of all nights. The thought sparks a fierce glow in his heart.
Peter nuzzles a little closer, “No, it’s okay.”
They let the music wrap around them for a while. Claude reaches up to run a hand over the back of Peter’s head and makes a face, “Ah, so that’s how you got your hair not to flop for an evening- shellac.”
A snort muffled against his jacket, “Shut up.”
Claude grins, and pulls Peter in tight. Eventually the song will end, and he’ll probably have to turn them both visible and interact with people besides Peter. Small price to pay.
Word Count: 847
Disclaimer: Heroes characters belong to Tim Kring.
A/N: For the Plaude Bingo prompt "dancing." Of course, with a prompt like that this had to be a little multimedia- just open the link in a new tab/window when you come to it.
Summary: Claude's late to the First Annual Company Holiday Party.
The sharpest of the guilt doesn’t bubble up to the surface of Claude’s mind until he steps into the hotel ballroom. The party is what one man working more or less on his own could manage, but he can feel it becoming more than the sum of its parts as he looks around at the happily mingling crowd. Peter’s done it- half an hour in and anyone could tell, the First Annual Company Holiday Party is a success. And Claude is performing the only action he’s made in support of such a thing: putting on the best of his three suits and showing up.
To be fair, it’s not like Peter had time to prod him into helping with the preparations. After Claude’s initial scoffing response to the idea, Peter all but vanished into a series of meetings and venue-scouting trips and a million other tiny details that made this all possible. And without a pair of sad brown eyes digging into his soul, Claude found it fairly easy to forget about the whole thing, until an elegant invitation appeared in his inbox one morning and his heart lurched with the knowledge that he’d Messed Up.
It takes him the better part of fifteen minutes to find Peter in the crowd, all while battling the powerful instinct to run, just run. The one that kept him in the apartment for nearly a half-hour later than the time on the invitation. He knows that false prophet for what it is, and he’ll die before he’ll let it take this one good thing away from him.
Peter’s there, looking amazing, as usual. Holding a glass of champagne, smiling and laughing and chatting and Claude knows he’s the only one who sees the miniscule gleam of anxiety underneath. When the empath moves on from the guest he was speaking to, Claude steps up beside him and wraps a hand around his arm.
Peter jumps, and Claude realizes with a degree of embarrassment that he’s been invisible since entering the room. Still, he doesn’t let that distract him from watching the surprise fade into a subtle relaxation before being covered up with annoyance. “Claude, I didn’t think you were coming.”
He tries for a grin, “RSVP’d didn’t I?”
He gets a fraction of one in return, “Yeah.”
Do it quick, like a band-aid, he tells himself. “Look, I’m sorry, Pete. Should’ve- I should’ve helped out, with all this. It was important to you.”
Peter absorbs his admission, gaze unreadable, which is better than alternatives. “I didn’t expect you to, really. But, yeah, it would’ve been nice.”
Claude registers the sting in his heart, clenches his jaw a bit. “Well, either way, you’ve done a fantastic job, mate.”
He gets a real smile for that. The anxiety eases from Peter’s frame. “You think so?”
“Sure. Look around, everyone’s havin’ a good time. An’ that’s a feat, with a company Christmas party.”
Peter points a finger at him from around his champagne glass, “Holiday party, okay? We’re all inclusive.”
“Oh, right, I see, and those were just very odd growths on that pine tree out in the lobby, yeah?”
“That’s for Toys for Tots. And there better be a toy from you under that tree.”
Claude just smiles, knowing the stuffed puppy dog is headed for a good home. Silence descends, though a much more comfortable one than it might’ve been. Claude looks around the room again, at the people going back for seconds from the buffet, the groups of people talking, the pairs out on the dance floor in front of the DJ, swaying to something slow. “Hey, Pete, wanna dance?” the question’s out before he realizes he’s even thought it.
Peter looks as surprised as he feels, “Uh, really?”
Too late now. Claude shrugs, and flashes another smile. When he holds up a hand, Peter takes it, and they walk together to the dance floor. Claude’s hands rest easily on Peter’s waist, Peter’s free arm curls around his shoulder and his chin touches Claude’s collarbone. Claude lets out a small sigh of relief- yes, he did Mess Up, but it’s not the big one. Not yet. Peter turns his head to press his cheek against the fabric of Claude’s suit, and they sway along with their coworkers to the old tune.
“We’re invisible, aren’t we,” Peter says.
“Yeah. Don’t have to be, if you don’t want to.” He’d dare anyone to make a fuss about the two of them, tonight of all nights. The thought sparks a fierce glow in his heart.
Peter nuzzles a little closer, “No, it’s okay.”
They let the music wrap around them for a while. Claude reaches up to run a hand over the back of Peter’s head and makes a face, “Ah, so that’s how you got your hair not to flop for an evening- shellac.”
A snort muffled against his jacket, “Shut up.”
Claude grins, and pulls Peter in tight. Eventually the song will end, and he’ll probably have to turn them both visible and interact with people besides Peter. Small price to pay.