Title: The Queen of Hearts
Characters: Paire, Ensemble, hints of Peter/Simone
Genre: Romance, Humor, UST
Rating: PG-13ish, just to be safe (naughty me, I use the f-word)
Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes or any of its characters, nor do I own the lyrics in the summary, which are from the song Desperado.

Summary: "Don't you draw the queen of diamonds, boy. She'll beat you if she's able. You know the queen of hearts is always your best bet." Living with Claire teaches Peter the difference between love and infatuation.

A/N: I'm on a roll with these updates. I've been writing so much lately that my roommate actually made me dinner and brought it to my room last night.

Chapter Four: Just Do It

They sat, sprawled out on the floor, backs propped up against the couch, opened pizza box between them. When Peter had asked her what she wanted on her half of the pizza, she'd told him pineapple. She'd always wanted to try it and thought now was as good a time as any. They each held a plate with a slice of pizza, but Claire looked at hers forlornly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the delicious looking pepperoni on Peter's slices. Slowly, she inched her fingers toward the box.

Peter smacked her hand sharply, "You have your own."

She pouted up at him and whined, "But I don't want my own."

"Tough," he replied without sympathy, "It's your own fault for ordering pineapple."

"But you're the one who neglected to tell me it would be disgusting," she blamed, "So, really, it's your fault."

He grinned before pulling a slice of his pizza from the box and depositing it on her plate, "Happy now?"

She nodded cutely. "So, Peter," she began, taking a bite of the slice he'd given her, "not that I don't enjoy hanging out with you, but don't you have a job or something?"

Peter raised an eyebrow, "Is that your subtle way of calling me a bum?"

"You caught me!" she joked.

"To answer your question…" He sipped his soda before continuing, "I'm retired."

She looked at him skeptically, so Peter elaborated, "I decided to become a fulltime superhero. The pay sucks, but it has some great perks."

She took the bait, "What kind of perks?"

He leaned in close, waggled his eyebrows at her, and answered, "Rescuing damsels in distress."

Claire smiled at his words, feeling her heart flutter just a tiny bit. She turned back to her plate nervously. She fiddled with her napkin before asking, "What did you do before?"

"I was a hospice nurse," he answered and took another bite.

She tilted her head to the side, "What's that?"

He finished chewing, swallowed, and then explained, "I provided in-home care for terminally ill patients."

She pieced together that bit of information with the other things she'd learned about him so far and decided she could easily picture him as a caregiver for sick people. "Do you miss it?"

He took a moment, considering, then answered in the negative. "Nah. Besides, living with you is kind of like hospice nursing: I take care of you; I feed you," he raised his plate and looked pointedly at hers.

She slapped his shoulder playfully.

"So, don't I get any jokes about male nurses?" He grinned at her, but something told her it wasn't genuine, that this might be a sensitive issue for him.

She thought of a dozen jokes she could've made, all of which would've earned self-depreciating chuckles from him, but she didn't want that reaction. Instead, she asked, "You wear scrubs, don't you?"

He nodded, waiting for the punch line.

"Well, you know what they say…" She nudged his arm, continued impishly, "All girls love a man in uniform."

His smile widened, became real. "I think that saying refers more to cops and firemen, not male nurses. Our uniforms are just scrubs that look like pajamas."

She made a big show of checking him out, looking him up and down, before saying wickedly, "I bet you could make scrubs look sexy."

Amused, he asked, "You think so?"

"Only one way to find out," she winked.

---

Claire whistled and catcalled as Peter entered the living room, dressed in his scrubs, one hand scratching behind his head self-consciously. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this."

"Quit being a baby and turn around."

He rolled his eyes but started turning.

She sighed dreamily for his benefit, "What I wouldn't give for some one dollar bills."

He was facing her again. "You give dollar bills to strippers, Claire. I'm fully dressed."

Oh, he just made it too easy. Claire smirked deviously, "Not in my mind, you're not."

He burst into laughter. "You're something else, you know that?"

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Eyes still sparkling with amusement, he pointed over his shoulder toward the bedroom. "I'm going to go change before your mind gets any more ideas."

She let him get as far as the bedroom door before calling out, "Hey Peter! You wouldn't happen to have a stethoscope, would you? We can play doctor!"

He turned around and studied her. "I think I can dig one up. How long has it been since your last physical?"

And her smirk fled. She gaped at him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks as he gave her a little wink and closed the bedroom door behind him.

---

The night air was cool and refreshing after being cooped up all day. They had lounged about the apartment listlessly until Peter had finally went to the bedroom and retrieved two of his jackets. He tossed one at her and told her to put it on as he slid his arms into the other one.

He'd brought her up the emergency stairs and onto the roof of his apartment building, and now they sat side-by-side, legs dangling over the edge of the building.

Claire was the first to break their companionable silence. "When did you find out you were… different?"

"I think I've always known," he answered seriously, "But it wasn't until recently I knew for sure." She nodded understandingly, signaling for him to continue his story. So he did, a bit wryly, "At first, I thought I could fly."

"Fly?" Claire questioned, "Isn't that what your brother does?"

Peter affirmed, "Yeah, I guess I'd just been unintentionally absorbing his powers."

She smiled at him, "So how did you figure that out?"

"I jumped off a building."

She gasped, "What?"

"I was trying to fly," he explained negligently.

"I'm guessing it worked? Seeing how you're still alive and all?"

"Not really," he chuckled, "Nathan had to catch me."

She stared at him, wide-eyed, and shook her head from side to side. "All this time, I've been feeling guilty about you diving off that building to save me, and now I learn that it's just your hobby."

He laughed, "You have no idea how close to the truth you are. Jumping off a building wasn't my first flight attempt, just my stupidest."

"It's not that stupid," Claire comforted, "I told you I jumped off a bridge, right? I thought it was kind of cool."

"For you, I imagine it would be cool," he replied, "but for the rest of us? Not so much."

After a minute of looking out at the surrounding buildings, she turned back to him and said, "I think you included yourself in the wrong group." He gave her a confused look, so she elaborated, "You said jumping would be cool for me but not for the 'rest of you.' But you can use my healing."

"Meaning?"

She rolled her eyes when he didn't get it, "Meaning… it could be cool for you, too."

He shrugged, agreed to her point, "When you look at it that way…"

They both sat in silence, taking in the view. Claire thought everything looked so beautiful from this perspective, with both the night and distance cloaking the city's flaws. She looked down, taking in the small yard neighboring this particular side of the building. There was a little tree, and she thought she could make out a bench. She idly thought that if she were to jump, the grass would make for a relatively soft landing. And once the idea was in her head, she couldn't get it out.

On near impulse, she rose to her feet and looked down at Peter, "Let's do it."

His eyebrows shot up, "Do what?"

"Let's jump," she urged eagerly. Her nerves tingled with anticipation.

He looked at her disbelievingly, "You've got to be kidding me."

"Come on, Peter. It'll be fun," she cajoled, nearly singing the last word.

"Fun?" he asked incredulously, and though she nodded excitedly, he wasn't convinced.

"Please?" she begged, pouting at him prettily.

He shook his head, refusing to budge, "No way."

Claire's shoulders drooped, and she looked down at her feet dejectedly. For some reason his refusal disappointed her, made her feel like he didn't trust her, which she knew was silly. Him not wanting to jump had nothing to do with her; he just didn't want to break his body smashing headlong into the ground, and when she thought of it like that, she felt stupid for asking him to jump with her in the first place.

His hand on her shoulder interrupted her thoughts; he must've stood up without her noticing. She timidly raised her eyes to his and saw that he was looking down at her, expression soft. "Okay, let's do this,"

"Peter…"

He shook his head, "Come on, before I lose my nerve."

She nearly protested, called the whole thing off, but he was looking at her so intently, so trustingly, and she so wanted to earn that trust, to show him that she'd protect him like he'd protected her.

"Okay," she whispered, "Count of three?" He nodded his consent.

"One…"

Peter's eyes locked on hers fiercely.

"Two…"

He stepped closer to her, nearly brushing her chest with his.

"Three."

He wrapped his arms around her, yanked her to him, and threw them both off the edge.

…And they were falling, clutching each other desperately; her head was buried in his chest, and some distant part of her heard their screams.

And then it was over. The landing knocked the wind from her, and it took her a minute to regain her bearings. Peter still had one arm around her, and his legs were tangled up with hers, one of which she could feel was broken. She felt him push himself up, and then sat up so she could right her leg. Peter cricked his neck to the side, and she saw some blood trickling down his arm. The whole situation was just so surreal, and she couldn't help giggling, "Your arm bone's sticking out."

He let her push the bone back into place before questioning amusedly, "Arm bone?" She shrugged. "I believe that was my ulna."

"My mistake, Nurse Peter," she teased.

"What the fuck just happened?" The new voice made them both freeze, and their heads turned simultaneously to view their witness.

"Simone," Peter acknowledged.

---

The three of them now sat around Peter's kitchen table. It had taken a while for Peter to calm down Simone, to convince her that neither of them was hurt. Apparently, she was coming by to check on Peter after she'd learned that he was back. She seemed a bit perturbed with Peter for not calling her, but he just returned with a quick apology and said he'd been busy helping Claire settle into the apartment, which, in hindsight, probably wasn't the best thing for him to say.

Between the two of them, Claire and Peter relayed the story of Peter saving her at Homecoming, Claire's powers, and the subsequent events. There was an awkward point somewhere in the middle of their conversation when Simone mentioned their living arrangements, and Claire responded dumbly, "I sleep in Peter's bed," which earned her a horrified look from Simone and an amused smirk from Peter.

They finally ended their tale with an explanation for why she and Peter had jumped off the top of his apartment building.

"You jumped…for fun?" Simone asked uncomprehendingly.

Claire winced, "It seemed like a good idea at the time…"

"It was a good idea," Peter reassured her gently, "It was cool." She smiled back at him, remembering the conversation that led up to their jump.

It wasn't much longer before Simone mentioned how late it was and said she needed to get home. When Peter returned from walking her out, he wore a little smile, and asked her if she would be okay staying at the apartment by herself for a little while tomorrow night since Simone had invited him to dinner. Claire smiled and assured him she'd be fine.

She didn't understand at all why she suddenly felt so queasy.

---

A/N: And Simone makes her appearance. I have this huge, irrational loathing for her. I just know it's going to be hard to write her without making her seem like a snobby, home-wrecking bitch. Oh, and to anyone who picked up on the sexual vibe in the jump scene… I swear it wasn't intentional. Heh. Freud would have fun psychoanalyzing me.