Hard on the Knees
Title: Hard on the Knees
Author: cameroncrazed
Rating: PG-13? Kinda suggestive at one point, but I don’t think it’s crossed into R territory.
Word Count: 1500
Spoilers: brief mention of 3 x 14 (“A Clear and Present Danger”)
Disclaimer: You want something of mine? You can have a nice plate of chicken marsala, but not “Heroes”, because that doesn’t belong to me. Anything referenced here (songs, commercials, etc.) also does not belong to me.
Written for challenge #9: fall at sylaire_chall.
A/N: Trying something different here. It’s a collection of 300 word drabblets that are inspired by something pop-cultural-like that deals with “falling”. Each inspiration is clearly indicated at the beginning of the segment. Title from one of my favorite Aerosmith songs - and the inspiration for drabble #3.
“Free Fallin’” - Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
The scream is ripped from her throat before she can even think, as the plane spins out of control, free falling back to earth. Claire hears the shrieks of horror from the cargo hold, and Mohinder’s anguished cry of “Peter! NO!” and she closes her eyes, praying that he’d be okay. Trying to grab hold of something solid, she can’t get a good grasp before she’s knocked off her feet. Her dad grabs at her, but she slides away before she can grasp his hand. It almost reminds her of the Canfield house, when… someone… had saved her from Stephen’s vortex, but she knows he’s not coming to her rescue this time. Her eyes grow wide as she sees how fast they’re approaching the ground. She licks her lips, closes her eyes, and waits for impact.
A second passes, then two, then five more. The plane evens out, and settles into a smooth ride. She tentatively opens one eye, and then the other. They’re gliding just about the tree tops.
“You did it!” She beams at the pilot.
“Not me.” He shakes his head; it almost matches the rhythm of his shaking hands. “It must have been God. Or a freak, like the ones in the back.” He looks at her, as if she holds all the answers in the world. “Does Superman actually exist?”
“Um… no. Not exactly.” For a wild second, Claire wonders if Peter’s managed to save them all, but she knows that can’t be. There’s a tiny odd feeling in her gut and at the back of her head, but she chalks it up to motion sickness. It couldn’t possibly… no.
- - - - - - - - - -
“Goddamn son of a bitch!” Sylar curses as he tries to spot a place to put the plane down. “Should have let them all crash.”
”Fallen Angel” - Poison
Her stomach growls angrily, but she ignores it; hunger’s become a constant for her. The money from the part-time barista job goes towards rent first, running water second, and heat third. Food’s far down on the list, in between electricity and cable TV. She tries to ignore the cookies in the display case, inhaling deeply as if the aroma of strong coffee could carry her through her shift without her having to resort to shoplifting brownies or a pastry.
‘You could just go home finally, or tell Peter you need help next time he calls.’ She tries not to think like that too often, determined to be self-reliant and completely free and clear of all her family, but she can’t help it at times. It’s usually when she’s hungry, or the power’s been cut off again, or when the sleazy landlord’s suggesting that she could easily pay him back for months of back rent with a leer on his face and tented khakis. She pushes all those feelings away, and focuses on her job.
Batting at a stray piece of hair that’s escaped her ponytail, she doesn’t even look up when the next customer steps to the counter. “How may I help you?”
“I want a… Claire?”
She looks up, and screams. Sylar.
“Stop that!” He reaches across the counter and slaps his hand over her mouth. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“But… but…” She hasn’t seen him since he’d put the plane down, slipping out of her impromptu hug and escaping into the forest without a backwards glance.
“What are you doing here? Where’s Noah?” He frowns for a second. “And is that your stomach growling?”
She blushes, and looks away.
“Hey.” He touches her cheek again. “Let me buy you dinner tonight.”
It’s easy to say yes.
“Falling in Love (is Hard on the Knees)” - Aerosmith
Her legs are shaky as she tries to stand, and she has to grab onto his arm for balance. She wants him so badly that she’s not sure she can stand it. “You’re evil.” She pouts as he places his hand on the small of her back, directing her towards the car.
“So?”
“Pure evil.” His hand ghosts across her ass, and she moans. “Sylar… please…”
“Can you make it home?”
“No. Backseat’s fine.”
“There’s a no-tell motel just around the block.”
“Hurry.”
- - - - - - - - - -
“Just melt the lock.” She moans as she rubs her hand in circles on his hip. “I’ve got Dad’s credit card.”
He pulls her around so that she’s trapped between him and the door, kissing her deeply as his left hand fumbles against the lock one more time. His telekinesis finally flips the tumbler and the door swings open.
They crash through the door of the hotel, desperately pawing at unnecessary clothing. He slams her up against the wall as the door closes, leaving a Claire-shaped indentation in the drywall even as he nips at her shoulder, leaving bite marks that fade away in seconds.
She doesn’t even bother fighting his shirt and jacket, just yanks at his belt and zipper until she’s made enough leeway to get her hands into his boxers. He gasps as her chilled hands grasp his cock, and momentarily releases his hold on her. She takes advantage, and lets go of him long enough to push at his shoulders until he falls back onto the flimsy table in the corner.
She’s on her knees a second later, an evil smirk in her eyes as she pays him back for the incident in the restaurant earlier that evening that left her sopping wet, unfulfilled, and unable to ever look at chocolate cake again.
”Fallin'” - Alicia Keys
“Do you love him?” Sandra asks her point blank, waving a cookie batter-covered wooden spoon at her.
Claire freezes.
“It’s not a difficult question. Yes or no?”
She didn’t know her mom - or any of the rest of the family - knew anything about her relationship with Sylar. “Sometimes.”
“Sometimes? So, what… Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and you hate him the rest of the time?”
Claire winces at the accuracy of the guess. “When he’s not being all stupid and evil.”
Sandra sighs. “You’re never going to meet a man who doesn’t do stupid things, or act out of line on occasion. Perfect men don’t exist. Does he make you happy most of the time?”
Claire swipes a spoonful of cookie dough before answering. “Yes.”
“Does he hurt you?”
“No….” She’s not about to tell her mom about happy fun bondage time; that’s just crossing way too many lines.
“Do you think he’s using you?”
She’d thought that at the beginning, that he was using her as a way to get close to Nathan or a way of hurting Noah, but she knows better now. “Definitely not.”
Sandra narrows her eyes. “Can you imagine life without him?”
Claire wants to laugh; he’d been a constant in her life since she was sixteen, and she knows that he’ll still be there at the end of time. “No.”
“Well, then - do you love him?”
“Yes.” It’s the first time she’s ever admitted it.
“I certainly hope it won’t be as difficult to get you to agree to bring him to supper this Sunday.”
Sandra smiles at her, and Claire realizes something very important. No wonder Sandra had been so calm. “You don’t know, do you?”
“Know what? I just knew there was a certain special someone in your life. Why? Who is it?”
LifeCall and Life Alert commercials
Maybe the scented bath oil wasn’t such a fabulous idea, Claire reflects as she tries to figure out how to get out of the slippery tub without hurting herself. Having silky smooth vanilla scented skin just wasn’t worth it; she’d just go back to being all scaly and gross before she does this again. She purses her lips as she thinks about her options. Staying in the tub until she shriveled up like a prune wasn’t a particularly appealing option. Getting on her knees and trying to crawl out might work, but she doubts that she can support her weight like that. Water splashes out on the floor as she tries, but she ends up slipping. She frowns as she realizes what she’s going to have to do.
“Sylar?” She calls out, trying to yell loudly enough to be heard over the Mozart sonata he’d just insisted she listen to while she ‘relaxed’. Getting stuck in a bathtub was not on her list of relaxing activities.
He yells back from the other room. “What?”
“Dammit.” Having to ask her husband for help like this is embarrassing. “Can you help me, please?”
“Is this another seduction plot of yours? I’m not falling for the ‘help me spread my lotion’ scheme again.”
She rolls her eyes; he hadn’t minded it at the time. That’s part of the reason she’s in this predicament. “Just come in here already!”
“I’m up to my elbows in paint, can this wait?”
“I’ve fallen, and I can’t get up! So get your ass in here now!”
He comes running in, and she hurls the bottle of bath oil at him when he starts laughing uncontrollably. “It’s not funny! It’s all your fault I’m a beached whale! You try being nine months pregnant and stuck in a bathtub!”
Author: cameroncrazed
Rating: PG-13? Kinda suggestive at one point, but I don’t think it’s crossed into R territory.
Word Count: 1500
Spoilers: brief mention of 3 x 14 (“A Clear and Present Danger”)
Disclaimer: You want something of mine? You can have a nice plate of chicken marsala, but not “Heroes”, because that doesn’t belong to me. Anything referenced here (songs, commercials, etc.) also does not belong to me.
Written for challenge #9: fall at sylaire_chall.
A/N: Trying something different here. It’s a collection of 300 word drabblets that are inspired by something pop-cultural-like that deals with “falling”. Each inspiration is clearly indicated at the beginning of the segment. Title from one of my favorite Aerosmith songs - and the inspiration for drabble #3.
“Free Fallin’” - Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
The scream is ripped from her throat before she can even think, as the plane spins out of control, free falling back to earth. Claire hears the shrieks of horror from the cargo hold, and Mohinder’s anguished cry of “Peter! NO!” and she closes her eyes, praying that he’d be okay. Trying to grab hold of something solid, she can’t get a good grasp before she’s knocked off her feet. Her dad grabs at her, but she slides away before she can grasp his hand. It almost reminds her of the Canfield house, when… someone… had saved her from Stephen’s vortex, but she knows he’s not coming to her rescue this time. Her eyes grow wide as she sees how fast they’re approaching the ground. She licks her lips, closes her eyes, and waits for impact.
A second passes, then two, then five more. The plane evens out, and settles into a smooth ride. She tentatively opens one eye, and then the other. They’re gliding just about the tree tops.
“You did it!” She beams at the pilot.
“Not me.” He shakes his head; it almost matches the rhythm of his shaking hands. “It must have been God. Or a freak, like the ones in the back.” He looks at her, as if she holds all the answers in the world. “Does Superman actually exist?”
“Um… no. Not exactly.” For a wild second, Claire wonders if Peter’s managed to save them all, but she knows that can’t be. There’s a tiny odd feeling in her gut and at the back of her head, but she chalks it up to motion sickness. It couldn’t possibly… no.
- - - - - - - - - -
“Goddamn son of a bitch!” Sylar curses as he tries to spot a place to put the plane down. “Should have let them all crash.”
”Fallen Angel” - Poison
Her stomach growls angrily, but she ignores it; hunger’s become a constant for her. The money from the part-time barista job goes towards rent first, running water second, and heat third. Food’s far down on the list, in between electricity and cable TV. She tries to ignore the cookies in the display case, inhaling deeply as if the aroma of strong coffee could carry her through her shift without her having to resort to shoplifting brownies or a pastry.
‘You could just go home finally, or tell Peter you need help next time he calls.’ She tries not to think like that too often, determined to be self-reliant and completely free and clear of all her family, but she can’t help it at times. It’s usually when she’s hungry, or the power’s been cut off again, or when the sleazy landlord’s suggesting that she could easily pay him back for months of back rent with a leer on his face and tented khakis. She pushes all those feelings away, and focuses on her job.
Batting at a stray piece of hair that’s escaped her ponytail, she doesn’t even look up when the next customer steps to the counter. “How may I help you?”
“I want a… Claire?”
She looks up, and screams. Sylar.
“Stop that!” He reaches across the counter and slaps his hand over her mouth. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“But… but…” She hasn’t seen him since he’d put the plane down, slipping out of her impromptu hug and escaping into the forest without a backwards glance.
“What are you doing here? Where’s Noah?” He frowns for a second. “And is that your stomach growling?”
She blushes, and looks away.
“Hey.” He touches her cheek again. “Let me buy you dinner tonight.”
It’s easy to say yes.
“Falling in Love (is Hard on the Knees)” - Aerosmith
Her legs are shaky as she tries to stand, and she has to grab onto his arm for balance. She wants him so badly that she’s not sure she can stand it. “You’re evil.” She pouts as he places his hand on the small of her back, directing her towards the car.
“So?”
“Pure evil.” His hand ghosts across her ass, and she moans. “Sylar… please…”
“Can you make it home?”
“No. Backseat’s fine.”
“There’s a no-tell motel just around the block.”
“Hurry.”
- - - - - - - - - -
“Just melt the lock.” She moans as she rubs her hand in circles on his hip. “I’ve got Dad’s credit card.”
He pulls her around so that she’s trapped between him and the door, kissing her deeply as his left hand fumbles against the lock one more time. His telekinesis finally flips the tumbler and the door swings open.
They crash through the door of the hotel, desperately pawing at unnecessary clothing. He slams her up against the wall as the door closes, leaving a Claire-shaped indentation in the drywall even as he nips at her shoulder, leaving bite marks that fade away in seconds.
She doesn’t even bother fighting his shirt and jacket, just yanks at his belt and zipper until she’s made enough leeway to get her hands into his boxers. He gasps as her chilled hands grasp his cock, and momentarily releases his hold on her. She takes advantage, and lets go of him long enough to push at his shoulders until he falls back onto the flimsy table in the corner.
She’s on her knees a second later, an evil smirk in her eyes as she pays him back for the incident in the restaurant earlier that evening that left her sopping wet, unfulfilled, and unable to ever look at chocolate cake again.
”Fallin'” - Alicia Keys
“Do you love him?” Sandra asks her point blank, waving a cookie batter-covered wooden spoon at her.
Claire freezes.
“It’s not a difficult question. Yes or no?”
She didn’t know her mom - or any of the rest of the family - knew anything about her relationship with Sylar. “Sometimes.”
“Sometimes? So, what… Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and you hate him the rest of the time?”
Claire winces at the accuracy of the guess. “When he’s not being all stupid and evil.”
Sandra sighs. “You’re never going to meet a man who doesn’t do stupid things, or act out of line on occasion. Perfect men don’t exist. Does he make you happy most of the time?”
Claire swipes a spoonful of cookie dough before answering. “Yes.”
“Does he hurt you?”
“No….” She’s not about to tell her mom about happy fun bondage time; that’s just crossing way too many lines.
“Do you think he’s using you?”
She’d thought that at the beginning, that he was using her as a way to get close to Nathan or a way of hurting Noah, but she knows better now. “Definitely not.”
Sandra narrows her eyes. “Can you imagine life without him?”
Claire wants to laugh; he’d been a constant in her life since she was sixteen, and she knows that he’ll still be there at the end of time. “No.”
“Well, then - do you love him?”
“Yes.” It’s the first time she’s ever admitted it.
“I certainly hope it won’t be as difficult to get you to agree to bring him to supper this Sunday.”
Sandra smiles at her, and Claire realizes something very important. No wonder Sandra had been so calm. “You don’t know, do you?”
“Know what? I just knew there was a certain special someone in your life. Why? Who is it?”
LifeCall and Life Alert commercials
Maybe the scented bath oil wasn’t such a fabulous idea, Claire reflects as she tries to figure out how to get out of the slippery tub without hurting herself. Having silky smooth vanilla scented skin just wasn’t worth it; she’d just go back to being all scaly and gross before she does this again. She purses her lips as she thinks about her options. Staying in the tub until she shriveled up like a prune wasn’t a particularly appealing option. Getting on her knees and trying to crawl out might work, but she doubts that she can support her weight like that. Water splashes out on the floor as she tries, but she ends up slipping. She frowns as she realizes what she’s going to have to do.
“Sylar?” She calls out, trying to yell loudly enough to be heard over the Mozart sonata he’d just insisted she listen to while she ‘relaxed’. Getting stuck in a bathtub was not on her list of relaxing activities.
He yells back from the other room. “What?”
“Dammit.” Having to ask her husband for help like this is embarrassing. “Can you help me, please?”
“Is this another seduction plot of yours? I’m not falling for the ‘help me spread my lotion’ scheme again.”
She rolls her eyes; he hadn’t minded it at the time. That’s part of the reason she’s in this predicament. “Just come in here already!”
“I’m up to my elbows in paint, can this wait?”
“I’ve fallen, and I can’t get up! So get your ass in here now!”
He comes running in, and she hurls the bottle of bath oil at him when he starts laughing uncontrollably. “It’s not funny! It’s all your fault I’m a beached whale! You try being nine months pregnant and stuck in a bathtub!”