Warning - Paire.
Disclaimer - I don't own. If I did Peter and Claire would most definitely not be related!
I was bored one afternoon and decided to write a prompt induced fic. I used the numbers 4,8,15,16,23,42 on the first prompt table I found and ended up with the words - hours, years, sorrow, lovers, whisper, purple.
I hope I did okay :-)
Just Like Purple
In Mysticism the purple aura is associated with ritual, ceremony and tradition.
"Why do you leave?" She whispered to his chest, soft fingers caressing the muscles toning his skin. He stroked her hair, hand following it down her back, stroking her smooth skin.
It was a cold Winter. But then again, every winter she had experienced here in Chicago was freezing, nothing like the warm winters in Texas where she could go to school in short sleeves. She missed her youthful years in the warm state, but after the incident with Sylar her father had decided she would be safer if they moved around, all around the country. They had gone to Costa Verde and she thought she could live the rest of her life there, but the Company began sniffing around so they had to pack up and move. At least every year for the next 8 years they had to move somewhere else, Idaho, Dakota, Tennessee, Oregon, Florida, Washington, Oklahoma, Kansas... Every time there was even the slightest rumour about who she was, what she could do, the family had to yet again pack up and move.
But he always found her.
"I always come back don't I?" He soothed, reaching his other hand forward, tipping her chin upwards, catching her blue eyes with his.
She had been living in Chicago for two years now, after finally deciding to claim a life for her own. Her father had been disappointed, well, infuriated really but she had put her foot down and set up home. It was working well for her, she was a waitress now. It wasn't exactly the big bucks but she was happy enough.
She smiled, "Just like purple." Laughter rang out then, dancing between the sweaty sheets entwined between their bodies as she caught his confused expression.
She asked him one night, the same night every year he would appear at her window, tapping lightly with the knuckles on his beautiful hands, how did he always know where she was? He smiled, told her he had once met a beautiful young girl name Molly once, and captured her lips with his, the conversation once again forgotten.
He always arrived on the 15th, Always at 9 o'clock. Dead on the hour. He was so consistent that she could set her watch by him, although whenever he arrived she never wanted to do anything else than throw herself into his arms and be kissed.
"Purple?" He asked, unsure as to whether he'd heard her right. Again, her lips tipped upwards in a knowing smile, the rest of the world could collapse right there and then, but she wouldn't care. Not as long as he was still with her.
She was 26 now. She had a wonderful reliant husband named Paul who doted on her. But every year on the 15th she would make him leave the house for one night, would even fake PMS just to get him to go to his friends. Then she would search her cupboard for her secret lingerie, the ones Paul had never seen, she would bring out a bottle of wine, turn the lights down low and wait by her bedroom window, for him to fly up and knock for her.
A quick nod. He understood he wouldn't receive a full explanation, or even an explanation at all. He would let her keep her little secrets, he'd go along with it if it kept that brilliant smile shining on her cheeks and her bubbling laughter dancing through the room. He'd go along with anything.
The next morning, he would wake up early with her in his arms, her long blonde locks coating the ruffled sheets like a sheen of honey. He would kiss her forehead, her lips and her hands one last time, and would whisper "I love you," in her ear. Then he would leave. Trying to promise himself that this was the last time, that she would want to get on with her life without his memory following her.
But every year, when he located her using the powers he'd borrowed off young Molly Walker all those years ago, and when he flew to her home just to see how she was doing, he knew she'd be waiting.
"Just like purple." He affirmed quietly, the smile creeping onto his lips lighting up his beautiful face as they held each other and drifted away to sleep.