So, I have decided to post some of my Heroes fic on because, well, just because. The following was based on an LJ prompt to involving Claire and the phrase "weirdest road trip ever" I think. This story - and others - can also be found on my LJ page (username comeon-eileen). Comments are true love, like much like Nathan Petrelli himself. The story is set post-Season One finale, before I actually saw the finale...
Travels with Nathan (and Peter)
Twenty minutes into the thing, Nathan had his sleeves up, his glasses down, and was smiling politician-style for a group of voter-age friends a car over, who had seemed to recognize 'The Congressman'; Peter was frowning because his feet were glowing again (after-effects of the Apocalypse That Almost Was) and Claire was sure: this was going to be the weirdest road trip, ever.
But she was going home to Odessa, to her other family, and that made everything worthwhile.
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The first time they stopped for gas, Peter wanted to use the restroom and Nathan told him public restrooms were disgusting. Peter accused his brother of not being 'in touch with the people' and Nathan said, calmly, if public restrooms were for touching people, then they were really going to stay away.
Claire wanted candy from the convenient store next door, and Nathan stared at her a good five minutes, as if deciding whether or not a good father would allow his teenage daughter to buy candy. He might have kept staring for hours, but Peter finally said, "God, Nathan. It's chocolate, not a condom," and then handed Claire some cash.
She smiled the entire time.
(Her families were all so weird.)
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They picked up a hitchhiker a couple miles later. It was Claire's suggestion, which Nathan protested, violently, on the grounds that few things were more dangerous than inviting a stranger into a closed, moving environment. "What's he going to do?" She wondered. "Kill me?"
Peter pressed his tongue into the side of his cheek and tried not to smile. "She's got a point. Claire and I can't die, and you-" He didn't finish his sentence because Nathan swerved suddenly across two lanes and pulled over near the man with his thumb in the air. When he was sure they weren't going to die, Peter cried, "This is a highway. What are you trying to do?"
"What could I do?" Nathan answered. "Kill you?"
The hitchhiker was a man Peter's age, and scruffy like Shaggy; he carried a backpack, an extra pair of shoes, and wore a thin chain around his neck. He thanked the Petrellis ten times, super-politely, and didn't even ask to be let out when Peter accidentally levitated a bag of chips in his direction.
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They stopped for the night at a Hilton. Everyone had they own (large) room, with doors that could be opened, expanding the entire floor into one giant suite. Claire's room was in the center, 'for protection', and both Nathan and Peter helped her move her luggage into it, even those it'd all have to go back into the car in the morning.
She sat on the bed and waiting, flipping through the television channels until she landed on a station where a man and a woman and another man were using oil and spreading- (Nathan switched the channel, then, and stole the television plug, so that she was never quite certain what happened next).
She called her parents instead, and her mom wondered why they didn't just fly, and Claire said it was because she'd never been on a road trip, ever, and this was her big chance. Her dad promised her all of Odessa when she got back, and she said she hoped he could find a big enough ribbon to wrap it.
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Peter was in Nathan's room in the morning, and they were arguing again. "We are going to follow the map," Nathan declared. "That's why we have a map."
"I'm telling you, I was flying last night and I found a better route."
"I don't care if you found El Dorado. No."
Peter put a hand on his brother's shoulder and matched his even gaze. "Nathan. Just let me drive. Come on, I know what I'm talking about, just give me a chance to prove it. Please?"
Three hours later, Peter was behind the wheel, and they were hopelessly lost.
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"We could just like, I don't know. Ask for directions?" Claire peered out her window. "I think I see some buildings down that way."
"I am calling OnStar," Nathan said, dismissively. "Any minute now, I'm going to get a signal."
"I could just fly up and-"
Nathan glared at his brother. "No."
"You could fly up and see-"
"Or," Nathan redialed the number. "I'll just call OnStar."
In the end, they called Claire's dad, who had access to satellites better than OnStar. As it turned out, Peter's shortcut really was a shortcut. Nathan said, "I swear to God, if you look smug..." Claire wondered if either of them realized just how smug they appeared, by nature.
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They stopped to eat at a small diner.
Claire ordered pancakes that were decorated like a happy face (cook's choice, not hers) and Peter ate a sandwich and soup. Nathan sipped coffee and stared off into space like he was remembering something nice.
When they left, he shook the owner's hand and purchased a t-shirt 'for the collection', and then handed it to Claire like he was giving her some heirloom. It was two sizes too big, and definitely not her style, but she threw it on over her tank top because it made him grin.
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"We should play road games," Peter declared, when they hit a particularly dull patch of ground. "We could sing ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall."
Nathan didn't bother looking at him. He just asked, "And encourage my only daughter to drink?"
"We could play I spy."
"I'll start," Nathan said, prompting a pleased and giddy look from his brother. "I spy... with my eye... an idiot."
Peter sighed. "You shouldn't talk about yourself like that in front of Claire." He turned so he could look at Claire. "I'm thinking of an animal."
But she was sixteen and either of her fathers' daughter. She said, "Wow, give yourself a medal." And through the rearview mirror, Nathan grinned.
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The next time Peter fell asleep, he disappeared. And it wouldn't have really been a problem, except that they were approaching a tollbooth and car pools were free and pairs weren't, and Nathan's wallet was somewhere in his luggage. He nudged Peter's shoulder once, twice, trying to wake him up, but Peter was solidly out. He hit him harder, to no result. "Damn it. Peter, wakeup."
"Maybe we can put a hat on his face, and no one will ask to see what's underneath?" Claire offered a hat from the backseat.
Nathan sighed and dropped the hat across Peter's face, only to watch it be batted away by an invisible arm. "Son of a-" He glanced at Claire and cleared his throat. Then, "Peter!"
"Does he always sleep this way?" Claire asked, and Nathan just shrugged.
"He used to sleepwalk when we were young. We had always had to lock the doors and then he'd wake up while being restrained and whine."
She laughed. "I bet Lyle would act the same way."
"Any of your brothers would," he said, and it was both a casual remark and a reminder. Nathan finally shoved his elbow into Peter's space, and the younger brother materialized with a yelp.
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When they reached the next big city – and it wasn't that big, so Claire couldn't quite recall the name – Nathan had a surprise.
"Airline tickets?" Claire whined. "I thought we were taking a road trip!"
"We did," he said. "Through two states, two hotels, and too many headaches. Your – other – father and I spoke and agreed and we think this is the right course of action. Besides," he added, "you don't want your big road trip to be with two old men like us, do you?"
Peter was nearby enough to complain. "Hey, I'm not old!"
Ignoring him, Nathan said, "Trust me on this one. We're better off on the plane." Claire sighed and acquiesced.
Some hours later, and several moments after take-off, Peter started glowing again, and someone screamed, bomb! The air flight attendant stepped backwards and fell into Nathan's lap, someone took a photograph, and all hell broke loose.
Claire tucked her head into her hood and turned up the volume on her ipod. She couldn't be sure, but she had a hunch: this was going to be the weirdest flight ever.
fin