Title: A Painting of Us

Author: Emilie

Fandom: Heroes

Pairing: Peter/Claire

Rating: PG, just in case

Summary: Peter and Claire are thinking about the future.

Disclaimer: Not mine, if they were then Peter and Claire would already have met and she'd be 18. ;)

Author's Note: There's really no point to this fic other than to bring some more Paire in the world. Is that so wrong?

A/N 2: This is set six months after whenever Claire finally gets to NYC and the Heroes form into a group.

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Claire was so quiet in sneaking up to the counter that Peter nearly jumped out of his skin when she spoke up, "What're you doin'?"

Recovering quickly, he rubbed his eyes. "I uh…I'm thinking."

She rested her chin in the palm of her hand, eyes twinkling. "Thinkin' about what?"

He couldn't help but smile a little at her. "You're bored, aren't you?"

For a moment she tried to act insulted, sitting straight up with her mouth agape in indignation. It lasted all of two seconds before she broke, blushing a little and slouching forward against the counter. "Alright, I'm bored, but that doesn't mean that's the only reason I'm here."

"It doesn't?"

"No!" She looked down at her hands as she picked at her thumbnail. "You're an interestin' guy, I'll have you know. Plus, you looked all alone, I figured you'd want the company."

Scratching the back of his head, Peter tried to figure out what to do with that. Finally, he offered: "Thanks."

"You're welcome. So, tell me."

Peter turned to face her completely on the stool, folding his arms across his chest and tilting his head. "Tell you what?"

"What you were thinkin' about," she supplied, the 'Duh!' not even needing to be said.

"Oh." He pointed to the painting he'd been looking at. The canvas was hanging in front of the window with both Peter and Claire painted on it, standing ready for a fight against whatever was looming over them. Isaac had painted it the other night and it'd been on Peter's mind ever since.

Claire's eyes moved across the painting and she nodded a little, easily becoming just as enamored by it as Peter was. Isaac's power to paint the future had never ceased to amaze her; even after six months of seeing them come and go. "Right."

"Just wondering how long it'll be…and what the hell we're staring at," he explained quietly, glancing over at Claire, eyes softening at the way she was looking at the painting. He kept watching her as he spoke, "How long do we have to wait until it'll happen?"

Claire shook her head, "Where's everybody else, is what I'm wonderin'."

Peter blinked and returned to the canvas, sighing. "It's why I keep thinking about it, I don't know the answers."

She looked at him, "None of us do, Peter."

"Yeah, but I wish I did." In the painting, they looked scared and he was holding his arm out in front of Claire, like he was trying to keep himself between her and…what? "I hate not knowing."

Her expression shifted, a mix of something implying that she was expecting him to say that and a genuine deify in her blue eyes that he did, as usual. She looked at the painting of him and her, of them standing alone, together.

Unlike how Peter had been looking at it—or how he'd thought he'd been looking at it—her eyes glimmered with something, looking past the blood and the destruction and whatever danger lay ahead and seeing…something else. Seeing them, standing so close and so ready to face whatever they were going to face. Together.

"What're you doing?" Peter whispered, because it was all he could do for his voice to not catch in his throat.

She turned back to him and their eyes met. Slowly, beautifully, a smile spread across her face, ear to ear. "Thinkin'."

finis