Coming Back, Deleted Scene #3
Coming Back, Deleted Scene #3
Rating: PG13, pushing towards R, maybe
Characters: Peter and Claude
Word Count: 1100+
Disclaimer: Nothing related to the show or the graphic novels belongs to me.
A/N: So this one fits in right around this part of the original story. Making out and angsting and issues occur. But there is a bit of hope, so that is good.
“Idiot.”
“Claude…”
The man ignores him, fingers brisk and practiced and oddly sure on his skin, tracing along his shoulder and neck and chest, and he shivers.
Claude gives him a strange look, and he shrugs.
“I’m fine,” he sighs. “See?” he moves to jump off the make-shift examination table and Claude pushes him back. “What?”
“What were you thinkin’?”
“Claude-“
“Did you even know you were gonna-“
“I had a better chance than Lee did!”
Warm hands wrapping around his shoulders and keeping him still and he needs to concentrate on rolling his eyes, because otherwise….otherwise he might just pass out, because Claude is looking straight at him, almost desperately, face close enough to his that he can feel him breathing.
And he’s saying something. Threatening to kill him, or something, but he doesn’t mean it, or if he does, it would be in a way that he absolutely would not mind going.
Then he’s kissing him, fast and hard and going like that, dying from the intensity of Claude pressed close to him, hands still stroking down his back and sides, he could think of worst ways to go.
Although it might be a little embarrassing, after everything he’s been through, to die of that and the thought makes him laugh.
Breathless, forehead falling against Claude’s neck, and he feels Claude begin to laugh as well.
Low chuckle vibrating against his chest as he shifts, tilts his head up to look at him properly, and smiles.
“Don’t…don’t laugh, Pete, I’ve…”
“Done it before?” he can’t help giggle, especially in the face of Claude still laughing, and then swooping down to kiss him again, softer this time, and he wants, more than anything, to just melt into Claude’s embrace and not think of anything else again.
But as he curls closer, arms twining around Claude’s torso, letting his chin be guided and stroked as a tongue flickers teasingly against his own, he can’t help but think this chance is entirely his to ruin.
He pulls away, carefully, a little relieved at the hand still wrapped around the back of his neck, the forehead still pressed to his.
“Okay?” he whispers, as if talking too loudly will somehow ruin the moment.
“Yeah, okay,” and there’s something teasing about the tone, protective on Claude’s part, but he’s whispering too, as if afraid of the same thing, and Peter relaxes.
“What are we going to tell everyone?” he murmurs after a moment, and Claude chuckles.
“Dunno, Pete, what’ve you thought of?”
He hesitates, but with the warmth of Claude’s body against him and the tenderness of the hand lingering on his hip, figures it’s the best time to broach the subject.
“I was kinda planning on the truth, you know? That I’m-“
“No,” Claude doesn’t pull away, and doesn’t even really seem to move, but Peter feels the change.
“Claude-”
“’s not just about you, Pete,” the man sighs, and does move away. Not all the way, just his forehead, but it even feels colder. “The less they know about you the better, for everyone.”
“So this…” he tries, smiling a little. Squirming, maybe a little recklessly, against the body that’s still reacting to the contact even as he pulls away.
“This was taken care of by a healer we found a coupla weeks ago, I’ll give her a call, or at least tell ‘em I did,” Claude turns away from him, moves toward the sink, and he sighs. “We’ll keep you out of sight till then. Can you act like you’re under the influence of enough painkillers to drop an elephant?”
“Claude…”
“Right, pointless question, I know-”
“I wasn’t talking about that, Claude,” he mutters, wondering if what he was talking about is even a possibility any more, if it ever really was.
“Less they know about you the better, Peter,” in that familiar tone of voice it’s really best to not examine.
“Yeah, okay,” he shakes his head. “Guess I’m going to owe Lee a shirt, huh? Or buy something myself, finally. I guess I’d have to…Claude?”
The man turns around and gives him a guarded look that doesn’t go away, even when Peter gives a half-hearted smile.
“What?”
“Come here.”
The man rolls his eyes and frowns but steps closer anyway, and Peter can’t stop himself from grinning.
“I’m sorry,” he says, when Claude’s close enough, and the man cocks his head as he continues. “For scaring you, I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t-“
He darts up then, and knows that he’s really kidding himself if he thinks Claude hadn’t seen it coming, but the man has the decency not to pull away and make him lose his balance.
Relaxes eventually, thought it takes him longer than last time.
Kisses him back, hesitantly, but it’s okay.
It’s okay as Claude’s hands settle on the side of his shoulders again, reluctantly, this time, not sure and desperate and needing to make sure he’s whole, but Peter doesn’t mind.
Grabs at Claude’s shirt and eases him closer, tilts his head up and opens his mouth. Tries not to push it, tries not to moan at the feeling of Claude against him.
Just lets out a quick breath when Claude pulls his mouth away, and doesn’t even try to follow. Opens his eyes at the feeling of a hand on his cheek, and has to smile at the expression on his face.
Soft and unfocused and maybe a little stunned, and it’s not till Peter leans up again that he blinks.
Pushes him back, palm flat on Peter’s chest and the touch startles a gasp out of him that Claude doesn’t appear to appreciate.
“We’re not doin’ this here,” is all he says, frowning and drawing his hand away.
“What are you-“
“Door doesn’t even lock and you’ve got me actin’ like a…this isn’t the time or the place for…we’re not…” he’s turned away from him again, running a hand through his hair, and muttering.
“Claude?” he says, quietly, once he catches his breath enough, and the man whirls around, looking angry enough to hit him.
“Clean yourself up,” Claude snaps, eyes roaming over his chest. “Covered in blood, the two of us, don’t know what you thought-“
“Okay,” he tries to sooth, and Claude does seem to respond, stops glaring quite so much. “I’ll go take a shower.“
“Then stick to your room, right? Can’t have anyone seeing you walking about like nothing’s happened.”
“Sure, that’s fine, I’ll…” he stops, frowns, processes, and fights a strange urge to laugh. “Are you seriously sending me to my room? Without supper?”
“Nah, I’ll bring you something,” Claude stops pacing for a minute to nod at him.
“Promise?” he lowers his voice a little and smiles, hoping he’s not crossing the line, and in spite of Claude momentarily looking at him like he’s something utterly alien, he’s pretty sure he hasn’t.
“Yeah, all right,” Claude mumbles in his direction, and goes out the door.
*
Rating: PG13, pushing towards R, maybe
Characters: Peter and Claude
Word Count: 1100+
Disclaimer: Nothing related to the show or the graphic novels belongs to me.
A/N: So this one fits in right around this part of the original story. Making out and angsting and issues occur. But there is a bit of hope, so that is good.
“Idiot.”
“Claude…”
The man ignores him, fingers brisk and practiced and oddly sure on his skin, tracing along his shoulder and neck and chest, and he shivers.
Claude gives him a strange look, and he shrugs.
“I’m fine,” he sighs. “See?” he moves to jump off the make-shift examination table and Claude pushes him back. “What?”
“What were you thinkin’?”
“Claude-“
“Did you even know you were gonna-“
“I had a better chance than Lee did!”
Warm hands wrapping around his shoulders and keeping him still and he needs to concentrate on rolling his eyes, because otherwise….otherwise he might just pass out, because Claude is looking straight at him, almost desperately, face close enough to his that he can feel him breathing.
And he’s saying something. Threatening to kill him, or something, but he doesn’t mean it, or if he does, it would be in a way that he absolutely would not mind going.
Then he’s kissing him, fast and hard and going like that, dying from the intensity of Claude pressed close to him, hands still stroking down his back and sides, he could think of worst ways to go.
Although it might be a little embarrassing, after everything he’s been through, to die of that and the thought makes him laugh.
Breathless, forehead falling against Claude’s neck, and he feels Claude begin to laugh as well.
Low chuckle vibrating against his chest as he shifts, tilts his head up to look at him properly, and smiles.
“Don’t…don’t laugh, Pete, I’ve…”
“Done it before?” he can’t help giggle, especially in the face of Claude still laughing, and then swooping down to kiss him again, softer this time, and he wants, more than anything, to just melt into Claude’s embrace and not think of anything else again.
But as he curls closer, arms twining around Claude’s torso, letting his chin be guided and stroked as a tongue flickers teasingly against his own, he can’t help but think this chance is entirely his to ruin.
He pulls away, carefully, a little relieved at the hand still wrapped around the back of his neck, the forehead still pressed to his.
“Okay?” he whispers, as if talking too loudly will somehow ruin the moment.
“Yeah, okay,” and there’s something teasing about the tone, protective on Claude’s part, but he’s whispering too, as if afraid of the same thing, and Peter relaxes.
“What are we going to tell everyone?” he murmurs after a moment, and Claude chuckles.
“Dunno, Pete, what’ve you thought of?”
He hesitates, but with the warmth of Claude’s body against him and the tenderness of the hand lingering on his hip, figures it’s the best time to broach the subject.
“I was kinda planning on the truth, you know? That I’m-“
“No,” Claude doesn’t pull away, and doesn’t even really seem to move, but Peter feels the change.
“Claude-”
“’s not just about you, Pete,” the man sighs, and does move away. Not all the way, just his forehead, but it even feels colder. “The less they know about you the better, for everyone.”
“So this…” he tries, smiling a little. Squirming, maybe a little recklessly, against the body that’s still reacting to the contact even as he pulls away.
“This was taken care of by a healer we found a coupla weeks ago, I’ll give her a call, or at least tell ‘em I did,” Claude turns away from him, moves toward the sink, and he sighs. “We’ll keep you out of sight till then. Can you act like you’re under the influence of enough painkillers to drop an elephant?”
“Claude…”
“Right, pointless question, I know-”
“I wasn’t talking about that, Claude,” he mutters, wondering if what he was talking about is even a possibility any more, if it ever really was.
“Less they know about you the better, Peter,” in that familiar tone of voice it’s really best to not examine.
“Yeah, okay,” he shakes his head. “Guess I’m going to owe Lee a shirt, huh? Or buy something myself, finally. I guess I’d have to…Claude?”
The man turns around and gives him a guarded look that doesn’t go away, even when Peter gives a half-hearted smile.
“What?”
“Come here.”
The man rolls his eyes and frowns but steps closer anyway, and Peter can’t stop himself from grinning.
“I’m sorry,” he says, when Claude’s close enough, and the man cocks his head as he continues. “For scaring you, I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t-“
He darts up then, and knows that he’s really kidding himself if he thinks Claude hadn’t seen it coming, but the man has the decency not to pull away and make him lose his balance.
Relaxes eventually, thought it takes him longer than last time.
Kisses him back, hesitantly, but it’s okay.
It’s okay as Claude’s hands settle on the side of his shoulders again, reluctantly, this time, not sure and desperate and needing to make sure he’s whole, but Peter doesn’t mind.
Grabs at Claude’s shirt and eases him closer, tilts his head up and opens his mouth. Tries not to push it, tries not to moan at the feeling of Claude against him.
Just lets out a quick breath when Claude pulls his mouth away, and doesn’t even try to follow. Opens his eyes at the feeling of a hand on his cheek, and has to smile at the expression on his face.
Soft and unfocused and maybe a little stunned, and it’s not till Peter leans up again that he blinks.
Pushes him back, palm flat on Peter’s chest and the touch startles a gasp out of him that Claude doesn’t appear to appreciate.
“We’re not doin’ this here,” is all he says, frowning and drawing his hand away.
“What are you-“
“Door doesn’t even lock and you’ve got me actin’ like a…this isn’t the time or the place for…we’re not…” he’s turned away from him again, running a hand through his hair, and muttering.
“Claude?” he says, quietly, once he catches his breath enough, and the man whirls around, looking angry enough to hit him.
“Clean yourself up,” Claude snaps, eyes roaming over his chest. “Covered in blood, the two of us, don’t know what you thought-“
“Okay,” he tries to sooth, and Claude does seem to respond, stops glaring quite so much. “I’ll go take a shower.“
“Then stick to your room, right? Can’t have anyone seeing you walking about like nothing’s happened.”
“Sure, that’s fine, I’ll…” he stops, frowns, processes, and fights a strange urge to laugh. “Are you seriously sending me to my room? Without supper?”
“Nah, I’ll bring you something,” Claude stops pacing for a minute to nod at him.
“Promise?” he lowers his voice a little and smiles, hoping he’s not crossing the line, and in spite of Claude momentarily looking at him like he’s something utterly alien, he’s pretty sure he hasn’t.
“Yeah, all right,” Claude mumbles in his direction, and goes out the door.
*