Peter glanced in the mirror one final time, running a hand over his slicked back hair and smoothing out his tux and tie, sighing deeply. Did he REALLY have to go to this stupid party?
It was Nathan's inaugural party for Congress, and of course, as much as he hated Nathan, he had to 'support his family'. He may hate him, but he couldn't change the fact they were brothers.
And that's what bothered him the most.
Not only did he hate his brother, but it was his niece he wanted to cut any relative ties with. The way he looked at her was definitely not a normal niece/uncle bond.
The worst part was, Peter probably wouldn't see Claire again for a while. With the luck she had been having, Sylar probably caught her by now. He sighed softly and smoothed out his tuxedo.
Peter still had the soft stubble along his chin, his dark chocolate eyes underlined with dull rings, but he still looked alright. His skin was as pale as ever, and not the nice porcelain shade. Sleep had been evading him lately.
He stepped out of his apartment, and onto the staircase on the way down. Swinging open the door outside the complex, he saw the sleek white stretch limo waiting for him; he cringed, thinking it was way too much for his taste. The door swung upward automatically, and his eyebrows raised at the strange display. He slid into the cool black leather, and the limo started driving forward, veering side to side at certain roads, and Peter only groaned at the tedious ride. The windows were tinted and he couldn't see outside which bored him even more.
The white vehicle finally screeched to a stop and the door swung open automatically – which still amazed him - and he shoved his hands in his pockets, striding forward, only to be greeted by a couple flashing cameras and annoying reporter questions.
Peter hid his face, shielding it with his hand, and hopping into the ballroom where the party was held.
The party was… extravagant, to say the least. The velvet red carpet was laid out in the entrance, and round tables were cloaked with embroidered cloths. A vase filled with roses was a centerpiece for each table. A sparkling chandelier dangled over each table, looming over the people dancing drunkenly. Bottles of champagne adorned side tables, and four smoothly carved wooden chairs surrounded each table.
Wasn't it a little much for a liar to go into office?
A smooth jazzy song vibrated from the speakers, and Peter snorted and sat down, resting his chin on his knuckles, sighing. Couldn't his brother take the hint that he DIDN'T want to go?
Peter saw a familiar, rectangular head approach him and he snorted – there was that idiot again. Nathan. Nathan was with a lady reporter with pin-straight black hair and a face caked in makeup. Probably yet another woman Nathan slept with… Peter mentally groaned.
"Peter, I'd like you to meet Nancy. She's my new publicist." Nathan gestured to the lady and Peter nodded absently, flashing a smile as fake as possible that lacked it's normal, crooked sensitivity.
"Nathan, can I… talk to you for a second?" Peter questioned, and Nathan nodded, the strange lady following. "Alone?"
They settled for a quiet corner of the ballroom, and Peter snarled, "Why the hell did you make me come to this?"
"It's my inauguration. You might as well be nice about it, Pete." Nathan said dryly, using the old nickname he coined when they were young. "Besides, I don't think you'll be disappointed."
Peter raised his eyebrows skeptically, shaking his head. "What could possibly happen at this party that would catch my interest?"
Nathan's forehead creased, and he rubbed his temple. "Someone... interesting is coming." This only made Peter cock his head in curiosity.
As if on cue, a woman stepped through the velvet-carpeted entrance. Peter's eyes wandered to who Nathan acclaimed was 'someone interesting.' Her stilettos were probably about a couple inches high, and they were a dark, almost blood-colored red. A black silk dress with thin straps, embroidered with beads around the waist that framed and fit all the right curves and his eyes slid up to the face. The dip in her nose, the innocent pearly white smile, and the emerald eyes were all too familiar…
Claire.
Surprisingly, Peter hadn't seen her in a while, and he hadn't seen her sudden transformation from a naïve cheerleader to a woman with the experiences of a lifetime.
Peter's eyes roamed to hers and he was instantly captivated. Her jade eyes with the glint she got whenever she smiled was still there. Claire's mild green eyes seemingly melded with his dark chocolate, and soon enough, a long-lost crooked smile spread across his face.
Like clockwork, Peter's legs started automatically moving towards her at a slow stride.
"Hi." Claire giggled softly, looking up at him, thoughts swimming through her head that he wouldn't bother to read.
"Hey there." Peter beamed back, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You look..." He searched his own mind for something mild, a compliment that wouldn't go too far... "Nice." Her hair was still dirty blond, and Claire had reduced her hair to moderate curls, some framing her face.
"Thanks," Claire sighed softly, looking up at him, eyes scanning his figure. "I could say the same about you, Peter." Peter was flattered to say the least, even if this was coming from an eighteen year old, who was his niece anyway.
"Haven't seen you in a while." Peter chortled to himself. Why couldn't he say anything more brilliant, something to sweep her off her feet? Something sweet but subtle, nothing that would be offhand... The conversation was moving rather slowly.
"Yeah." Claire mimicked the awkward laugh, and she bit her clearly-glossed lip, eyes scanning the floor and she picked at her French-tipped cuticles.
"Dance with me?" Peter hopefully inquired. Claire nodded slowly, and he pulled her into the crowd. From the speakers, the candlelight version of Everytime We Touch by Cascada echoed, and he sighed. This dance meant nothing... that he had ever hoped for, anyway.
They twirled around gracefully, fingers laced together, and his right hand resting on the small of her back as they swayed softly, Claire burying her face in his chest, and Peter could rightfully admit without guilt that this was the first time that night where he actually felt content and at peace.
Peter's dark chocolate eyes scanned over her, looking where uncles shouldn't, admiring her figure and just her presence where they could just... be together. He swore that Claire was doing the same, enjoying this sweet dance that walked the fine line between his platonic feelings and his full on incestuous lust he felt for her.
Peter involuntarily inhaled her scent, and it was in no way masked by any overpriced perfumes. She smelled mildly of strawberries and a hint of vanilla, making him sigh with contentment. Everything felt right when she was in his arms, like all the questionable puzzle pieces of life fit in, together forming a beautiful picture once you looked at it. He rested his cheek on her head, still wavering to the music, and his thumb stroked her hand, softly and sweetly. He released his hand from hers and moved her loose ponytail from the back of her head to her left shoulder, fingertips grazing the nape of her neck slightly.
Peter straightened his back, and their eyes found their way to each others, locking and he was drowning in the light green pools, swimming through her many thoughts. Claire was searching through his eyes, as if she was trying to read his thoughts, fighting through the loving daze in his eye and the strange glint she didn't want to identify.
No words needed to be spoken as he bent down and lightly brushed his lips to her forehead, placing a delicate kiss on her head. He could of sworn he felt her shudder, but it wasn't cold at all...
Claire's eyes were focused on his lips, but she didn't say a word... His eyes searched her face and set on her lips, but he was wordless as well. Claire was still searching through his thoughts, trying to find something more, but instead...
Peter's lips were gently pressing to hers in a taboo, forbidden kiss.
Color rushed to Claire's cheeks and she was incredibly shocked yet pleased at the same time, freezing from head to toe. Her feet were planted to the ground, eyes wide and as he broke off, paling.
"Sorry." Peter turned around, beginning to walk away. His eyes glanced at her and her beautiful form, registering it, branding it in his mind one last time. There was no way she would want to see him after that... He breathed a loud sigh, pondering his instinctual, idiotic actions.
After what seemed like hours, Claire's throat stopped itself from cracking and she walked up to him.
"Wait."
That one word, escaping through her thin lips, snaking its way toward Peter's ear, ringing in it, caused him to follow her command, turning around expectantly. She sheepishly moved closer to him, and he tilted his head in curiosity, ignoring the fast paced dancing and heavily synthesized song booming over the speakers. What mattered was with her, and his mistake he made.
"I'm sorry, I guess I might have drank too much or --" It hurt Peter to lie through his teeth – he had kissed his freaking NIECE for crying out loud - "I'm sorry. That was out of the question, because it's clearly not accepted and it's wrong and--" His hands were shaking in his long ramble, and he was instantly stopped once he felt Claire's petite lips pressing against his.
Now it was Peter's turn to freeze. He was just as flustered as she was, heart skipping across his chest, and as Claire pulled away, he spoke up from his dry mouth, "W-what was that for?" He couldn't even muster enough courage or thought to mention how wrong it was, but at that point, he didn't care.
He grinned that crooked smile, and she stood on her tiptoes – even if she was wearing heels, he was too tall for her – and her lips grazed his ear slightly as she whispered...
"Hmm... I guess we're even now."