Fic: What to Expect (2/3)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,198
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. Last chapter posted in two days' time.
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.
Chapter One
If his idea did end up working, Noah was going to kick himself for not thinking of it sooner.
But he had a little work to do first. He went back to his apartment one afternoon with his fingers crossed that Claude would be there. The man hadn’t deigned to actively live there in the past four and a half months, but would drop in and sleep more nights a week than not. Sometimes the only evidence of him was missing food and the sheets laid out on the couch being rumpled in a new way.
He got lucky that day and found Claude sitting on the floor of the kitchen, back against the fridge, reading a book as he ate an apple.
“Comfortable?” Noah asked.
Claude shrugged, as if he’d sat on finer kitchen floors but wouldn’t complain.
“Get up. You have to make yourself presentable.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. You’ve got a date with your pregnant husband. There’s something I never expected to say.”
Claude peered up at him, “What’re you on about?”
“Get up and I’ll show you, you lazy bastard.”
He didn’t until Claude looked like he had more money to his name than what pocket change strangers could spare. Noah placed his laptop on the kitchen table and opened up a program. “Okay, looks like he’s on.”
“Who’s on?”
“You’ll see.” Noah tapped a few buttons, and a video image of Peter popped up on the screen.
“Hi, guys,” Peter said, waving. His bright gaze darted between Noah and Claude for about two seconds before fixing on Claude alone.
“Hiya,” the man said, voice low and hoarse.
Noah patted Claude’s back, and stood. “Think I’ll leave you to it then. Have a good time, you two.”
Noah left for a couple of hours. When he got back Peter and Claude were still deep in conversation, Claude’s face no more than five inches away from the screen. Noah went into his bedroom and shut the door. He nodded off to the sound of quiet talking punctuated by Claude’s laughter.
***
It was as if a wall of mutual pain and separation anxiety had fallen. Noah couldn’t pry Claude off of his computer, more than once saying goodbye to Peter over Claude’s shoulder and saying hello when he arrived at Peter’s apartment. Speaking of whom, it was like a light was switched on inside him as four months became five. Coming back from the doctor one day, Peter gripped Noah’s hand hard as he sat down at the computer and told Claude they were having a son.
They began in earnest to shop for the baby, and one day Peter visited his mother very carefully while Noah and Claude rearranged furniture and assembled a crib in the apartment. It took Noah back to the months before Lyle was born and during Claire’s infancy. Claude had helped him put together cribs then. Noah tried to chalk it up to the endorphin high Claude was constantly riding as every day brought him closer to seeing his child and Peter in person, but he still liked to think, maybe, Claude was working his way around to forgiving him.
Peter had also dived into a sea of baby books, surrounding the couch and bed with stacks of them that he read like holy scripture when he wasn’t talking to Claude. Noah was tempted to tell him every baby book in the world could only cover a fraction of what it was like to truly be a parent, but he figured that was something everyone had to find out for themselves. However he did answer to the best of his ability all of the questions Peter was suddenly full of.
He left Peter to his quiet study with highlighter and notebook when his cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and experienced a brief moment of schoolboy panic, wondering if he should have been reporting to Angela Petrelli this entire time. “Hello, Angela.”
There was a brief pause before she replied, “Don’t sound so suspicious, Noah. If I felt you’d done something wrong in regards to Peter you’d know it by now.”
Noah could concede the point, “Old habits die hard.”
“Always. But it’s time to look to the future, isn’t it? And put away childish things.”
Noah frowned, out of practice deciphering Angela’s tangled web of conversation. “Have you had a dream?”
She sighed, “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. I’m trying to give up all that, the world of prophecies and monumental struggles. I’d almost forgotten how interesting life can be without them. As interesting as my new grandson’s life will be.”
“You have had a dream.”
“And it’s none of your business. Just keep doing what you’re doing, Noah. You must know what a help you’ve been.”
“It’s no trouble.”
“Hm. In any case, tell your wife I said hello.”
Noah blinked, “I- Sandra and I- we’re divorced.”
“Are you? Not from what I’ve seen. Goodbye, Noah.” She hung up.
Noah stared at the phone, hardly daring to hope.
***
Claude strode into Noah’s apartment, plopped down in what had become his chair, and opened the waiting laptop. Noah, who was preparing a bowl of pasta for dinner, glanced over curiously as the video program appeared on the screen.
Peter smiled at them, but even through the computer’s budget camera his face looked pale and waxy. “Pete, what’s wrong?” Claude said immediately.
“Nothing, everything’s fine. I’ve just been cleaning- this place is a sty.”
“Shouldn’t be doing that, you’ll tire yourself out.”
“It’s fine, I promise. The movement keeps him from squirming and I stop feeling like a beached whale for a little while. It’s win-win.”
“Still.”
“All right, I’m done for today. So what are you up-?” He cut off, glancing away as his whole body twitched and his hand flew to his belly.
“Peter!”
“It’s okay! It’s okay, it’s fine.” Peter’s hand stayed put and he closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his mouth. “It’s just those whatever-whatever contractions. They’re not real, they’re just like- practice, you know?”
Noah leaned over Claude’s shoulder, “How long have you been having those?”
A rueful smile flitted across Peter’s face, “I’ve been dealing with them all day. Moving around helps that too.”
“Peter, that looked painful,” Noah pressed, “Your Braxton-Hicks contractions haven’t been like that so far.”
Peter smile soured, he still wasn’t looking at the camera. “You don’t know everything, Noah.”
“He knows plenty and you’ll listen to every damn thing he has to say, Petrelli,” Claude snarled.
Peter turned a glare on him, only to have it broken by another twitch and a gasp of pain. “Ah! Oh- okay... That, uh... that felt different.”
Claude was instantly on his feet, hands clamping on Noah’s shoulders and pushing him at the door so hard he stumbled. “Get over there NOW!” He dropped back into the chair, hands grasping the edges of the computer screen, “Pete- Peter, talk to me. What’s going on?”
Peter sat in profile, one hand clenched on the edge of the table and the other on his stomach. “Ah, uh... oh God...”
Noah closed the door on Claude’s murmured comfort and Peter’s panicked breaths.
Chapter Three
Word Count: 1,198
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. Last chapter posted in two days' time.
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.
Chapter One
If his idea did end up working, Noah was going to kick himself for not thinking of it sooner.
But he had a little work to do first. He went back to his apartment one afternoon with his fingers crossed that Claude would be there. The man hadn’t deigned to actively live there in the past four and a half months, but would drop in and sleep more nights a week than not. Sometimes the only evidence of him was missing food and the sheets laid out on the couch being rumpled in a new way.
He got lucky that day and found Claude sitting on the floor of the kitchen, back against the fridge, reading a book as he ate an apple.
“Comfortable?” Noah asked.
Claude shrugged, as if he’d sat on finer kitchen floors but wouldn’t complain.
“Get up. You have to make yourself presentable.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. You’ve got a date with your pregnant husband. There’s something I never expected to say.”
Claude peered up at him, “What’re you on about?”
“Get up and I’ll show you, you lazy bastard.”
He didn’t until Claude looked like he had more money to his name than what pocket change strangers could spare. Noah placed his laptop on the kitchen table and opened up a program. “Okay, looks like he’s on.”
“Who’s on?”
“You’ll see.” Noah tapped a few buttons, and a video image of Peter popped up on the screen.
“Hi, guys,” Peter said, waving. His bright gaze darted between Noah and Claude for about two seconds before fixing on Claude alone.
“Hiya,” the man said, voice low and hoarse.
Noah patted Claude’s back, and stood. “Think I’ll leave you to it then. Have a good time, you two.”
Noah left for a couple of hours. When he got back Peter and Claude were still deep in conversation, Claude’s face no more than five inches away from the screen. Noah went into his bedroom and shut the door. He nodded off to the sound of quiet talking punctuated by Claude’s laughter.
***
It was as if a wall of mutual pain and separation anxiety had fallen. Noah couldn’t pry Claude off of his computer, more than once saying goodbye to Peter over Claude’s shoulder and saying hello when he arrived at Peter’s apartment. Speaking of whom, it was like a light was switched on inside him as four months became five. Coming back from the doctor one day, Peter gripped Noah’s hand hard as he sat down at the computer and told Claude they were having a son.
They began in earnest to shop for the baby, and one day Peter visited his mother very carefully while Noah and Claude rearranged furniture and assembled a crib in the apartment. It took Noah back to the months before Lyle was born and during Claire’s infancy. Claude had helped him put together cribs then. Noah tried to chalk it up to the endorphin high Claude was constantly riding as every day brought him closer to seeing his child and Peter in person, but he still liked to think, maybe, Claude was working his way around to forgiving him.
Peter had also dived into a sea of baby books, surrounding the couch and bed with stacks of them that he read like holy scripture when he wasn’t talking to Claude. Noah was tempted to tell him every baby book in the world could only cover a fraction of what it was like to truly be a parent, but he figured that was something everyone had to find out for themselves. However he did answer to the best of his ability all of the questions Peter was suddenly full of.
He left Peter to his quiet study with highlighter and notebook when his cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and experienced a brief moment of schoolboy panic, wondering if he should have been reporting to Angela Petrelli this entire time. “Hello, Angela.”
There was a brief pause before she replied, “Don’t sound so suspicious, Noah. If I felt you’d done something wrong in regards to Peter you’d know it by now.”
Noah could concede the point, “Old habits die hard.”
“Always. But it’s time to look to the future, isn’t it? And put away childish things.”
Noah frowned, out of practice deciphering Angela’s tangled web of conversation. “Have you had a dream?”
She sighed, “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. I’m trying to give up all that, the world of prophecies and monumental struggles. I’d almost forgotten how interesting life can be without them. As interesting as my new grandson’s life will be.”
“You have had a dream.”
“And it’s none of your business. Just keep doing what you’re doing, Noah. You must know what a help you’ve been.”
“It’s no trouble.”
“Hm. In any case, tell your wife I said hello.”
Noah blinked, “I- Sandra and I- we’re divorced.”
“Are you? Not from what I’ve seen. Goodbye, Noah.” She hung up.
Noah stared at the phone, hardly daring to hope.
***
Claude strode into Noah’s apartment, plopped down in what had become his chair, and opened the waiting laptop. Noah, who was preparing a bowl of pasta for dinner, glanced over curiously as the video program appeared on the screen.
Peter smiled at them, but even through the computer’s budget camera his face looked pale and waxy. “Pete, what’s wrong?” Claude said immediately.
“Nothing, everything’s fine. I’ve just been cleaning- this place is a sty.”
“Shouldn’t be doing that, you’ll tire yourself out.”
“It’s fine, I promise. The movement keeps him from squirming and I stop feeling like a beached whale for a little while. It’s win-win.”
“Still.”
“All right, I’m done for today. So what are you up-?” He cut off, glancing away as his whole body twitched and his hand flew to his belly.
“Peter!”
“It’s okay! It’s okay, it’s fine.” Peter’s hand stayed put and he closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his mouth. “It’s just those whatever-whatever contractions. They’re not real, they’re just like- practice, you know?”
Noah leaned over Claude’s shoulder, “How long have you been having those?”
A rueful smile flitted across Peter’s face, “I’ve been dealing with them all day. Moving around helps that too.”
“Peter, that looked painful,” Noah pressed, “Your Braxton-Hicks contractions haven’t been like that so far.”
Peter smile soured, he still wasn’t looking at the camera. “You don’t know everything, Noah.”
“He knows plenty and you’ll listen to every damn thing he has to say, Petrelli,” Claude snarled.
Peter turned a glare on him, only to have it broken by another twitch and a gasp of pain. “Ah! Oh- okay... That, uh... that felt different.”
Claude was instantly on his feet, hands clamping on Noah’s shoulders and pushing him at the door so hard he stumbled. “Get over there NOW!” He dropped back into the chair, hands grasping the edges of the computer screen, “Pete- Peter, talk to me. What’s going on?”
Peter sat in profile, one hand clenched on the edge of the table and the other on his stomach. “Ah, uh... oh God...”
Noah closed the door on Claude’s murmured comfort and Peter’s panicked breaths.
Chapter Three