Fic: What to Expect (1/3)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,616
Disclaimer: Heroes characters belong to Tim Kring.
A/N: Well, this was unexpected (ba-dum ching). Not just crack crossover mpreg, but multi-chapter crack crossover mpreg, for goodness' sake. I'll post a chapter every other day.
Summary: Established relationship, post-series. Peter comes across the ability to turn into a woman, and he and Claude decide to take advantage of the situation. But, of course, it's never as simple as that.
When the idea started becoming more of a plan, Claude and Peter sat down on the couch, hands grasped between them.
“Look, Pete. Say we do this thing.”
“Okay...”
“And say it works. Say you... you know-”
“Get pregnant.”
“- Yeah. Right.” He sighed, “That’ll never sound normal. Anyway, if you do... I’ll have to go.”
Peter stiffened, “What-?”
“Think about it. You’ll have this ability. Ability to become a woman. What if you lose it- while you’re pregnant? What do you think that’d do to the baby?”
“I... I don’t know.” He swallowed. Suppressed a shudder.
“Exactly. And... and I won’t risk it, all right? I won’t. If... if there’s a chance you and me... look, anyway, if you’re smart you’ll not let anyone with an ability near you, okay?”
He was staring at Peter now, expression a shade of desperate he almost never saw. “Yeah, yes. I- I promise.”
Claude’s shoulders lost some of their tension. “Right. Well. I’d phone. E-mail. Train a bloody carrier pigeon- I’m not... not running away.”
“No. The opposite, really.”
Claude freed one of his hands and looped his arm around Peter’s shoulders, pulling him close enough to kiss his forehead.
***
Noah wondered if he’d ever be done doing favors for Claude Rains, and by extension Peter Petrelli. If there was an end to it, this one had to get him a good way’s closer.
He’d thought about bringing something with him. When his sister had gotten pregnant there’d been a veritable parade of flowers, balloons, and cards from relatives and friends. But considering this particular situation, Noah figured any offering would be taken at worst as snide and at best somewhat pathetic. So, in the end, he turned up empty-handed at Peter and Claude’s apartment.
Anyway, it wasn’t as if Claude had told him to bring something. “Just... keep him company, will ya’? You know the little prat gets itchy if you leave him alone half a day.” The man had been hunched in on himself, fingers twitching near his mouth like he was craving a cigarette.
So here he was, trying not to feel curious about who was going to open the door.
“Hey,” Peter said, “Come on in.”
Noah was shocked by how little had changed. Peter as a woman was the same height, with only a few key lines changed to curves in his frame and face, and big dark doe eyes gazing out from under the familiar curtain of bangs. His stomach was flat, to Noah’s unexpected relief.
He noticed the silence of the apartment and realized he hadn’t said anything besides a standard greeting. “How are you, Peter?”
He shrugged, “Not bad, so far.” His hand- slightly smaller, thinner fingers- drifted over his mid-section.
“Morning sickness?”
“None. I kind of forget about it, sometimes.” He glanced around the area. It wasn’t a big apartment, and Peter and Claude’s belongings occupied every flat surface. Somehow it still felt empty. “How’s Claude?”
“He’s okay,” Noah replied with a small nod, “Misses you.”
A tiny smile, crooked as ever. “He tell you that?”
“You doubt it?”
The smile grew, warmed. Peter was a pretty woman. “No.”
“Oh, wait,” Noah said, realizing that Claude didn’t tell him to bring anything, he gave him something to bring. “Claude said to tell you he’d call tonight.” He checked his watch, “Yeah, should be in a half-hour or so.”
Peter’s eyes glowed, but he just nodded, “Okay, good. Uh, do you want coffee?”
Getting desperate to give them both something to do, Noah said, “Sure.”
When Claude called, Noah decided to feel relieved that Peter retreated to their bedroom to talk.
***
It didn’t take Noah long to buckle and call Sandra for advice. Not to say his resistance came from any amount of mistrust or resentment- he just knew he’d probably have to lie to her again. “You really don’t want me to get into the details,” he managed, “but... I’ve been more or less entrusted with the welfare of a pregnant- acquaintance. Any tips?”
After she was done laughing at him, she had several, ending it with a deeply sincere, “Good luck.”
Cursing himself for the millionth time for letting her get away, he said thanks and hung up.
Peter had been haunting the apartment, giving paranoid looks when Noah suggested going out during his visits. But he’d still caught Peter paging through magazines and idly making lists of things to buy, so when he caught him reading an article about an outdoor market being held that day, he pounced. “Come on, you’ve barely left this place in over a month. That can’t be healthy.”
“But what if, Noah?” Those big eyes were stormy with apprehension.
“It’s skin to skin contact, right? Well, it’s cold outside. Bundle up right and even if we bump into someone with an ability- and remember your kind isn’t exactly around every corner- you’ll be fine. I know Claude wants you safe, but I doubt he wants you to go into hiding for the next eight months.”
There was the tiniest flicker of indignation at that, and Peter stood up saying, “Fine then. Let’s go.”
About an hour into their excursion Noah felt eyes on the back of his head. He let Peter go before him into a shop and crossed the street. Claude appeared, sitting on the back of a bench with his feet on the seat. Noah stared at him, head cocked, “Claude...”
“What?”
“I thought you were staying somewhere.”
Claude narrowed his eyes, “Why?”
“Why did I think that or why would you find a place to live instead of walking the filthy streets like a homeless man even though it’s almost winter and barely above freezing?”
“Who says that’s what I’m doing?”
“Peter will not be happy if she finds out-”
“He.”
“Sorry?”
“Peter’s a man, Bennet. Just not biologically speaking, at the moment.”
He gave a nod, “Yes, you’re right. You’ll have to forgive me, this kind of thing can get confusing. You know Peter won’t even go to a Company doctor for his prenatal care. We’ve worked up some fiction with an OBGYN Angela suggested. So, yes, sometimes I have to refer to Peter as ‘she.’”
Claude smiled ever so slightly, “Good. Smart. ‘S what I would’ve done.”
“Goes without saying.”
Claude sighed then, and dropped his face in his hands, a sudden fatigue coming over him almost like it did for Peter sometimes. “I tell ya’, Bennet, I’ve had some mental ideas in my time, but this one’s right up there at the top, no contest.”
Noah dared a smile of his own, and took a seat next to Claude on the bench. “Parenthood always is. You’ll get through this part, just give it time.”
“Yeah? What about the part after that? Wonder what that’ll be like, explainin’ to the kid that, yes, he does have a mum, she’s that bloke over there making breakfast. Tough enough bein’ a same-sex couple, now this.”
“Well, I’m using my imagination here, but I think it’s safe to say there are more than a few same-sex couples who would literally kill for the opportunity to do what you two are doing.”
Claude sighed again, “Thanks. I feel much better.”
“Look, do you want me to bring Peter over?”
“No,” said fast and sure and that was something Noah couldn’t imagine. Desperate longing entwined with equally intense fear. “Go on then. Go. I’ll... call later, when do you expect to be finished?”
They’d planned to get a meal somewhere, but Noah said, “Give it an hour. He’ll be there.”
“Right. Cheers.” He climbed off the bench, and made to walk off God knew where.
“Claude.”
He half-turned.
“Go to my apartment, okay? Peter really will kill me if he knows I let you wander the streets.”
Claude let out a quiet snort. “I’ll think about it.”
***
A quiet visit where Noah had failed to talk Peter into leaving the apartment. He’d turned on a baseball game, but kept glancing back to Peter lying on the couch. He’d been napping, now he stared at something far beyond the television screen. Claude hadn’t called yet that day, or answered the latest e-mail. Peter lifted a hand, absently twisting strands of hair around his fingers. It was long enough now to curl around his softened jaw. Peter blinked and sat up, making Noah start. He stood and put on his coat.
“Where you going, Peter?”
“I need a haircut.” He went to a shelf and picked up a framed photograph of himself, smiling wide somewhere not too long ago. He took the photo out of its frame and headed for the door, but froze when his hand touched the knob. Noah watched him lean against the door, look down at the picture in his hand. He felt frozen himself until he saw tiny smothered sobs tremble from Peter’s body.
Still wary, Noah got up and crossed the room to Peter. He squeezed his shoulder experimentally- it didn’t seem to have much effect one way or the other.
Peter let out a shaky breath, “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. This would be hard on anybody.”
“Sometimes I really regret this whole thing,” it came out in a rushed whisper.
Noah couldn’t think of a damn thing to say to that, so he settled for being more literally supportive, giving Peter’s shoulder another squeeze and letting him press back against him slightly.
“Okay,” Peter murmured after a minute, “I do wanna get my hair cut, actually.”
“You want company?”
“No, that’s all right. The game’s still on. I’ll be right back.” He slipped out the door and away.
Noah knew he wasn’t doing his job.
Chapter Two
Word Count: 1,616
Disclaimer: Heroes characters belong to Tim Kring.
A/N: Well, this was unexpected (ba-dum ching). Not just crack crossover mpreg, but multi-chapter crack crossover mpreg, for goodness' sake. I'll post a chapter every other day.
Summary: Established relationship, post-series. Peter comes across the ability to turn into a woman, and he and Claude decide to take advantage of the situation. But, of course, it's never as simple as that.
When the idea started becoming more of a plan, Claude and Peter sat down on the couch, hands grasped between them.
“Look, Pete. Say we do this thing.”
“Okay...”
“And say it works. Say you... you know-”
“Get pregnant.”
“- Yeah. Right.” He sighed, “That’ll never sound normal. Anyway, if you do... I’ll have to go.”
Peter stiffened, “What-?”
“Think about it. You’ll have this ability. Ability to become a woman. What if you lose it- while you’re pregnant? What do you think that’d do to the baby?”
“I... I don’t know.” He swallowed. Suppressed a shudder.
“Exactly. And... and I won’t risk it, all right? I won’t. If... if there’s a chance you and me... look, anyway, if you’re smart you’ll not let anyone with an ability near you, okay?”
He was staring at Peter now, expression a shade of desperate he almost never saw. “Yeah, yes. I- I promise.”
Claude’s shoulders lost some of their tension. “Right. Well. I’d phone. E-mail. Train a bloody carrier pigeon- I’m not... not running away.”
“No. The opposite, really.”
Claude freed one of his hands and looped his arm around Peter’s shoulders, pulling him close enough to kiss his forehead.
***
Noah wondered if he’d ever be done doing favors for Claude Rains, and by extension Peter Petrelli. If there was an end to it, this one had to get him a good way’s closer.
He’d thought about bringing something with him. When his sister had gotten pregnant there’d been a veritable parade of flowers, balloons, and cards from relatives and friends. But considering this particular situation, Noah figured any offering would be taken at worst as snide and at best somewhat pathetic. So, in the end, he turned up empty-handed at Peter and Claude’s apartment.
Anyway, it wasn’t as if Claude had told him to bring something. “Just... keep him company, will ya’? You know the little prat gets itchy if you leave him alone half a day.” The man had been hunched in on himself, fingers twitching near his mouth like he was craving a cigarette.
So here he was, trying not to feel curious about who was going to open the door.
“Hey,” Peter said, “Come on in.”
Noah was shocked by how little had changed. Peter as a woman was the same height, with only a few key lines changed to curves in his frame and face, and big dark doe eyes gazing out from under the familiar curtain of bangs. His stomach was flat, to Noah’s unexpected relief.
He noticed the silence of the apartment and realized he hadn’t said anything besides a standard greeting. “How are you, Peter?”
He shrugged, “Not bad, so far.” His hand- slightly smaller, thinner fingers- drifted over his mid-section.
“Morning sickness?”
“None. I kind of forget about it, sometimes.” He glanced around the area. It wasn’t a big apartment, and Peter and Claude’s belongings occupied every flat surface. Somehow it still felt empty. “How’s Claude?”
“He’s okay,” Noah replied with a small nod, “Misses you.”
A tiny smile, crooked as ever. “He tell you that?”
“You doubt it?”
The smile grew, warmed. Peter was a pretty woman. “No.”
“Oh, wait,” Noah said, realizing that Claude didn’t tell him to bring anything, he gave him something to bring. “Claude said to tell you he’d call tonight.” He checked his watch, “Yeah, should be in a half-hour or so.”
Peter’s eyes glowed, but he just nodded, “Okay, good. Uh, do you want coffee?”
Getting desperate to give them both something to do, Noah said, “Sure.”
When Claude called, Noah decided to feel relieved that Peter retreated to their bedroom to talk.
***
It didn’t take Noah long to buckle and call Sandra for advice. Not to say his resistance came from any amount of mistrust or resentment- he just knew he’d probably have to lie to her again. “You really don’t want me to get into the details,” he managed, “but... I’ve been more or less entrusted with the welfare of a pregnant- acquaintance. Any tips?”
After she was done laughing at him, she had several, ending it with a deeply sincere, “Good luck.”
Cursing himself for the millionth time for letting her get away, he said thanks and hung up.
Peter had been haunting the apartment, giving paranoid looks when Noah suggested going out during his visits. But he’d still caught Peter paging through magazines and idly making lists of things to buy, so when he caught him reading an article about an outdoor market being held that day, he pounced. “Come on, you’ve barely left this place in over a month. That can’t be healthy.”
“But what if, Noah?” Those big eyes were stormy with apprehension.
“It’s skin to skin contact, right? Well, it’s cold outside. Bundle up right and even if we bump into someone with an ability- and remember your kind isn’t exactly around every corner- you’ll be fine. I know Claude wants you safe, but I doubt he wants you to go into hiding for the next eight months.”
There was the tiniest flicker of indignation at that, and Peter stood up saying, “Fine then. Let’s go.”
About an hour into their excursion Noah felt eyes on the back of his head. He let Peter go before him into a shop and crossed the street. Claude appeared, sitting on the back of a bench with his feet on the seat. Noah stared at him, head cocked, “Claude...”
“What?”
“I thought you were staying somewhere.”
Claude narrowed his eyes, “Why?”
“Why did I think that or why would you find a place to live instead of walking the filthy streets like a homeless man even though it’s almost winter and barely above freezing?”
“Who says that’s what I’m doing?”
“Peter will not be happy if she finds out-”
“He.”
“Sorry?”
“Peter’s a man, Bennet. Just not biologically speaking, at the moment.”
He gave a nod, “Yes, you’re right. You’ll have to forgive me, this kind of thing can get confusing. You know Peter won’t even go to a Company doctor for his prenatal care. We’ve worked up some fiction with an OBGYN Angela suggested. So, yes, sometimes I have to refer to Peter as ‘she.’”
Claude smiled ever so slightly, “Good. Smart. ‘S what I would’ve done.”
“Goes without saying.”
Claude sighed then, and dropped his face in his hands, a sudden fatigue coming over him almost like it did for Peter sometimes. “I tell ya’, Bennet, I’ve had some mental ideas in my time, but this one’s right up there at the top, no contest.”
Noah dared a smile of his own, and took a seat next to Claude on the bench. “Parenthood always is. You’ll get through this part, just give it time.”
“Yeah? What about the part after that? Wonder what that’ll be like, explainin’ to the kid that, yes, he does have a mum, she’s that bloke over there making breakfast. Tough enough bein’ a same-sex couple, now this.”
“Well, I’m using my imagination here, but I think it’s safe to say there are more than a few same-sex couples who would literally kill for the opportunity to do what you two are doing.”
Claude sighed again, “Thanks. I feel much better.”
“Look, do you want me to bring Peter over?”
“No,” said fast and sure and that was something Noah couldn’t imagine. Desperate longing entwined with equally intense fear. “Go on then. Go. I’ll... call later, when do you expect to be finished?”
They’d planned to get a meal somewhere, but Noah said, “Give it an hour. He’ll be there.”
“Right. Cheers.” He climbed off the bench, and made to walk off God knew where.
“Claude.”
He half-turned.
“Go to my apartment, okay? Peter really will kill me if he knows I let you wander the streets.”
Claude let out a quiet snort. “I’ll think about it.”
***
A quiet visit where Noah had failed to talk Peter into leaving the apartment. He’d turned on a baseball game, but kept glancing back to Peter lying on the couch. He’d been napping, now he stared at something far beyond the television screen. Claude hadn’t called yet that day, or answered the latest e-mail. Peter lifted a hand, absently twisting strands of hair around his fingers. It was long enough now to curl around his softened jaw. Peter blinked and sat up, making Noah start. He stood and put on his coat.
“Where you going, Peter?”
“I need a haircut.” He went to a shelf and picked up a framed photograph of himself, smiling wide somewhere not too long ago. He took the photo out of its frame and headed for the door, but froze when his hand touched the knob. Noah watched him lean against the door, look down at the picture in his hand. He felt frozen himself until he saw tiny smothered sobs tremble from Peter’s body.
Still wary, Noah got up and crossed the room to Peter. He squeezed his shoulder experimentally- it didn’t seem to have much effect one way or the other.
Peter let out a shaky breath, “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. This would be hard on anybody.”
“Sometimes I really regret this whole thing,” it came out in a rushed whisper.
Noah couldn’t think of a damn thing to say to that, so he settled for being more literally supportive, giving Peter’s shoulder another squeeze and letting him press back against him slightly.
“Okay,” Peter murmured after a minute, “I do wanna get my hair cut, actually.”
“You want company?”
“No, that’s all right. The game’s still on. I’ll be right back.” He slipped out the door and away.
Noah knew he wasn’t doing his job.
Chapter Two