A Note From Lara: Alright, in the midst of all my Pemma fangirling, I had sort of lost sight of my favorite ship for Peter. Because even if Pemma is my OTP, Daphter will always have this soft spot in my heart, and I just read something on the Heroes wiki that made me start thinking about it again. And since I felt the need to write a Daphter oneshot that ISN'T super-angsty... well, I just thought this was a cute idea. And obviously way AU, as any Daphter story must be.

Peter leaned against the balcony railing, drink in hand, staring out across Tokyo and watching the people and tiny toy cars move along the streets seventy-five stories below the top-floor ballroom where Ando and Kimiko were holding their wedding reception. The wind that always seemed to blow at higher altitudes pushed his hair into his face and he quickly tucked that one long lock behind his ear. He kept meaning to get a haircut, but things had been so hectic lately that he kept forgetting.

He became aware that he wasn't alone only seconds before a familiar voice said "Hey."

Daphne was leaning with her back against the railing a few feet from him, arms crossed with a cheeky grin on her face. "What are you doing hiding out here?" she asked.

"Just getting some air," he said.

"Liar."

He grinned. "Yeah, okay, okay, it's not true. But what are you doing out here?"

She pushed off the railing and walked over to look over the city with him. Her crimson dress swirled across her hips as she approached and Peter forced himself to keep his eyes on her face. She propped her chin up her hands, resting her elbows on the rail. "Crowds make me jumpy," she confessed. "Not enough room to move, you know?"

"Believe me, Daph, I know," he said emphatically. "After I took your power that first time, it was all I could do just to stay in a building for more than two minutes at a time!"

She chuckled, then fell silent, watching the city. Peter chose not to break the silence; he just looked at her. With a faraway twinkle in her eye and her face lit up from below by the light of the city, she looked like a mischievous angel. Nobody would deny that Daphne Millbrook was beautiful, and Peter in particular could not deny that he'd been taken with her for some time. Trouble was, despite running in the same circles, she was always gone too fast for him to get her alone to tell her how he felt. And now he had the perfect opportunity, and he was completely tongue-tied.

Then, quick as a wink, she was no longer contemplative and whipped her head around to face him, and that look in her eye that almost always spelled trouble was back. "Wanna race?" she asked.

"W-what?" he stuttered.

She rolled her eyes. "Do you want to race?" she said, enunciating every syllable as if he were a bit slow. "It's not like anyone will notice we're gone before we get back. And it's no fun racing anybody else, they're all slow as rocks."

Peter shrugged. "Why not?"

She grinned at him, and then she was gone. He groaned and took off after her, chasing her over and around all manner of inanimate objects, including running right over several moving cars. "Get back here!" he laughed, even though he knew they were traveling at more than twice the speed of sound and it would do him no good. Ahead of him, he saw her turn around to run backwards, and she stuck her tongue out at him. "Alright, you asked for it," he whispered. With a burst of speed, he caught up to her quickly.

Apparently too quickly, as he slammed right into her and they came to a very abrupt stop as they both lost their footing and landed tangled in a sprawling heap on the ground, both of them laughing. "You okay?" Peter asked once he'd managed to catch his breath.

"Fine," she said.

Suddenly they both fell silent, realizing the position they were in, with Peter having landed on top of her when they fell. His face flushed crimson and he sat up quickly, rolling off her. She sat up and looked around. "Where exactly are we?" she asked.

"I don't know. Weren't you paying attention?" he replied.

She gave him a 'duh' look. "I was running backwards," she pointed out.

"Right."

Silence descended again, and Peter returned to observing her. With her already spiky blonde hair even more wild from the wind and their fall and a smudge of dirt on her porcelain cheek, she was somehow even more attractive than usual. He smiled unconsciously as he watched her pluck at the hem of her skirt. He knew she hated wearing dresses almost as much as she hated staying in one place for more than a short while. It was a big mark of how much she cared about her friends that she had been able to bring herself to don one for Ando's wedding.

"Alright," she said finally, getting to her feet. "I promise I won't cheat this time."

He hopped to his feet as well. "Where are we going?"

She thought about it for a moment, then grinned. "Hey Pete, you ever been to Paris?"

"No. But you live there, right?"

Daphne nodded. "Sometimes. I've got an apartment there, and one in Madras, for when I want a change of scene. So what do you say? Wanna visit the City of Lights?"

As far as Peter was concerned, the devil-may-care smile on her face was brighter than every light in Paris, but he nodded. "Sure."

"Great!" she chirped. "Three... two... one!"

A blur and a second later and she was perching nonchalantly on a stone wall in the old section of the city. Moments later, Peter appeared beside her. "Took you long enough," she teased. "What, did you stop to help an old lady cross the street on your way here? Wouldn't surprise me, knowing you."

"What do you mean?"

She sighed in frustration. "Um, the fact that you feel the inexplicable need to help every single person who crosses your path with every single problem in their lives?"

He shrugged. "I can't help that. It's just the way I am."

Daphne shook her head. "No, it's not a bad thing. It's just... unusual. Most people won't even bother to hold the elevator for someone, let alone turn their lives upside down for a complete stranger. Which, y'know, you do on practically a daily basis."

"I do not!" he exclaimed, but he was laughing. After a moment, he glanced around. "So this is Paris, huh?" he asked. It was late afternoon here, and the sunlight bathed Daphne in gold and made her brown eyes sparkle joyfully.

"Yep. This is Paris." She gave the city that had become her home a passing glance, then looked mischievously at him. "Wanna get a better view?" she asked.

He laughed. "Don't you ever stop in one place for more than a few seconds?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Not when I'm with somebody who can keep up with me!" And then she was gone, racing across the city; mildly exasperated, Peter followed. To his amazement, she streaked right up the side of the Eiffel Tower, literally running straight up the steel girders. He stopped in shock at the base of the Tower, staring up as she reached the viewing platform at the very top.

"Coming?" she called down. Only Peter's hyper-sensitive ears could have heard her from that far away.

He gave her a thumbs up, then jumped into the air, opting to fly rather than attempting to recreate her feat. When he had risen to her level, she was standing with her arms crossed across her chest, one hip cocked out, and a half-irritated, half-teasing look on her face. "That's cheating," she said.

Peter shrugged. "Sorry," he said with a smile. "I'm a little chicken to try it your way." He drifted over the rail and landed gently next to her.

For a few minutes they just stood there and watched as the sun sank down towards the western horizon, staining the shingle and terra cotta rooftops of the city crimson and amber in the dying light. Absently, Daphne studied the people far below them. "It's a long way down," she said, sounding very far away.

He wasn't sure what to say, so he just made a noncommittal noise and the companionable silence descended once again.

"My dad's a farmer," she said quite suddenly. "When my mom was still alive, he used to do his own crop-dusting, too. He used to take me up with him in the plane. It was the most amazing thing we ever did together."

"That sounds like fun," he said.

Daphne nodded, a reminiscent smile on her face. "We didn't do a lot once I got older. I guess once my cerebral palsy presented, he just didn't know how to deal. But when we'd go up... it was like magic, you know? It was usually in July, and everything was all green and gold and blue everywhere. There's nothing like summer in the Midwest, and it's way better in the air."

"I think everything's better in the air," Peter said. After a slight pause, he said, "Have you ever seen Paris from above?"

Suddenly brought back to earth, ironically, she whipped her head around to stare at him. "Wait... are you saying...?"

"If you want to," he offered.

For a moment she hesitated, chewing her lip and studying him with narrowed eyes. Then she shrugged. "Why not? I'm always up for something new." She took a step toward him, then stopped. "How exactly do we... do this?"

Peter wasn't really sure. He'd never actually taken anyone flying with him aside from accident victims and such. But he didn't think carrying Daphne in his arms or slung over his shoulder was really the best way to deal with this. He laughed awkwardly. "You know? I don't really know. But I guess you could stand on my feet... or something?"

She closed the final space between them and stepped delicately onto the tops of his feet. "This work?" she asked quietly, looking suddenly nervous.

"Perfect," he said in an equally quiet tone. As he placed his hands at her waist, Peter was amazed by how small she seemed, caught in the circle of his arms. It shouldn't have surprised him, he supposed: Daphne was a petite woman. But there was something so much more open about her tonight; she had shared something deeply personal with him, and for the first time since he'd known her, she seemed... vulnerable. Like a bird with broken wings.

He pushed away the thought. That wasn't an image he wanted to associate with Daphne.

Gently, he lifted off the empty viewing platform and they drifted upward into the sky. As he angled away from the Tower, Daphne let out a soft gasp and her grip on his arms tightened. "Sorry," she said with an apologetic grin. "I'm used to... being in control."

Peter grinned. "I know the feeling," he said. "Remember that first time you dragged me along with you?"

Daphne laughed. "I thought you were going to hurl," she said with a smirk. "I've never seen anyone turn quite that shade of green before."

"Hey, now, don't pick on the guy who's the only thing standing between you and a very long fall!" Peter exclaimed in mock-outrage.

"You wouldn't dare!" she gasped.

His joking expression faded away and he watched her with a serious look on his face. "No," he said firmly. "I won't let you fall." She stared at him, almost seeming to realize that his words meant more than what he was saying. Peter allowed himself to drift away in the depths of those coffee eyes as they flew on in silence.

Some time later, they found themselves drifting over continental Asia. Peter had subconsciously made the decision to steer them back in the direction of the party in Tokyo; even if Ando and Kimiko didn't miss them, Hiro definitely would. But neither really wanted to go back.

"I guess we should be heading back," Peter said reluctantly. "Hiro's going to wonder why we bailed on his party."

Trying to regain that joking ease they had managed earlier, Daphne said, "I thought this was Kimiko's shindig?"

Peter smirked. "The wedding might have been, but I guarantee you, Hiro was in charge of the party-planning. It's his one great skill."

"You mean besides the time-travel bit?" Daphne asked with a grin.

He laughed as their feet touched the ground on the balcony they had left only an hour before. "Well, there is that," he said.

Daphne released her grasp on his arms and for a moment she seemed about to step away from him. Then she stopped. "Thank you for this, Peter." She hesitated just a moment, then stood on tiptoes and pressed her lips to his in a brief kiss. She took a step back, grinning cheekily at him, and then she was gone in a blur.

Peter didn't follow. She'd be back. Because that was the thing he'd learned about Daphne that he didn't think anyone else really understood. She always ran away, but in the end she always came back.