Please note the change in rating from PG-13 to R

Chapter Five

"Crossing the Bridge"

Claire still couldn't believe they were doing this, the whole weekend getaway thing. She felt so grown up except for the blinding panic it set off just thinking about what was expected. Not that Peter was going to force things in any way, it was just … well, Claire really wanted this. She just wasn't sure how 'it' was going to go seeing as she had no actual experience to go on besides gossip and hearsay.

Claire had even gone as far as asking Niki for advice. It was certainly one of the more embarrassing episodes of her life, but she wanted to be sure things were done properly. She didn't want to put any pressure on herself and having another female to talk to who wasn't in any way partial to Peter (or related to him) was an added bonus.

To her credit, Niki didn't crack a single joke at Claire's expense. The older woman had been thoughtful, sensitive and contemplative, allowing Claire to ramble through her various concerns without interruption. In the end, Niki had given Claire some valuable advice that had reduced her nerves down to a minimum.

Peter had jokingly suggested that they go to Paris for the weekend, something to which he had apparently given some serious thought. Off her look of alarm, he had laughed. "Relax Claire, I was joking. Although ..." He had smirked handsomely, suggestively raising a brow. "Remember what I said about Paris once? Maybe we'll get there someday. I wouldn't rule it out altogether for our trip."

Of course she remembered. They had been on the run from Sylar and her dad, forced to stay in a run down motel that had seen better days. Claire remembered they had been forced to share a bed that night on account of the hideously carpet and Peter had very honourably put everything but the kitchen sink between them just in case anything untoward happened.

There was no danger of Claire not remembering; she treasured every moment spent with him especially now knowing how fragile memories were. If anything, she could probably be accused of being a little too obsessed with all things Peter Petrelli.

To Claire's relief, rather than Paris, Peter suggested his family's house in the Hamptons. Which was fine by Claire seeing as she had never been out there and was eager to see more of the state. Since coming to New York, she hadn't ventured very far out of the city itself.

Peter had borrowed one of Nathan's cars for the trip, not bothering to actually tell him. He had given Claire a sly grin, tucking his bangs behind his ear. "With everything I've had to put up with lately, he owes me. Besides, he'll never miss it."

"I didn't even know you knew how to drive." She had glimpsed this playful, less serious side of Peter before, but it had never been so apparent as it had been the last couple of weeks. She enjoyed seeing him loosening up, the weight of the world lifting from his shoulders if even for a moment. His dark eyes, which were always so piercing, shone and sparkled in the morning sunlight.

The car that Peter had "borrowed" turned out to be a sky blue Mercedes SLK convertible. Claire was a girl and therefore not biologically capable of appreciating cars as a work of art, but even she was impressed by its sleekness and power, so much so that she dropped rather obvious hints that she wanted to have a turn behind the wheel. Peter had smiled enigmatically, brushing his dark hair off his face. "Maybe later."

She had pouted, a technique she knew from past experience was capable of driving him – quite literally – crazy. "Pretty please? I know how to drive a stick shift." She had wheedled. He had swallowed hard, promising her a turn later behind the wheel.

And so they had cruised out of the smouldering congestion of New York City. Seeing the tall skyscrapers melting into suburbia and then later into leafy forests, Claire had never felt freer in her life. The wind whipped ferociously around her wreaking havoc with her hair, but she didn't care. With every mile they put between them and their normal lives, Claire was escaping with Peter into a dream world where only they existed. "This is fantastic." She shouted to Peter over the roar of the wind. She wasn't entirely sure that he heard her, but his grin let her know that he felt the freedom as keenly as she did.

The trip seemed entirely too short for seventy odd miles. Claire took a deep breath, enjoying the sensation of being so close to the sea. It was now fall, but the day was mild enough to evoke images of what the area would have been like filled with summer holidaymakers and tourists. Comfortable, leafy holiday homes merged imperceptibly into grander, statelier versions until they were finally cruising amongst country estates that looked like they had leaped straight off the homes of the rich and famous.

It shouldn't have been a surprise to Claire then, that Peter drove them straight through a set of impressively wrought but understated iron gates. They followed the long, winding drive up to the main house until the front entrance disappeared from the rear view mirror behind them.

They arrived in front of an impressive house – estate really – situated on park like grounds that was set back from the lane by a healthy looking hedge. It looked like a fairy tale summer wonderland with its elegant eaves and sprawling, almost lazy feel. Everything about the Petrelli Hampton home conveyed old world affluence and charm. To add to the distinct atmosphere, the salty smell of the sea hung in the air around them.

Peter quickly hopped out and began unloading their bags, offering to act as Claire's tour guide later on as he did so. It seemed incredible that someone as self-effacing as Peter came from these privileged surroundings. Sometimes it was easy to lose sight of just how different she and Peter were, how different their upbringing had been. They had literally come from two different worlds – no, scratch that – universes. It wasn't until this moment that she completely understood what Nathan and Heidi and everyone had warned her about a relationship with Peter.

She wasn't sure why it had struck her now. If anything, it should have become apparent when she had first been taken into the Petrelli family, living in their home in New York. Surrounded by their friends and family, the social circles of the haves and the have mores – that should have alerted her to how different she and Peter really were.

Maybe it had been there all along but she had been too young to see it, her inner voice whispered. The thought deflated her mood slightly. She caught Peter giving her a strange look and attempted to cover up her confusion by running over to help with the bags. If Peter was curious about her momentary lapse, he was careful not to betray it.

Peter had told her on the way there that their Hampton abode was situated on a two acre block, something that really didn't sound too big to Claire at the time, but turned out to be really quite impressive now that she was actually here and able to walk through it on foot.

The house was impressive in his lack of ostentation, at the same time suggesting an older, grander beginning. It was apparent that it had been freshly painted and renovated recently, from the brilliantly white French doors that overlooked an ornately landscaped garden, framed with rose bushes that were just beginning to die out, to the grey slate roof tiles that gleamed in the late morning sunlight. Leafy oaks dotted the park at comfortable distances around the estate, giving everything a slightly countrified feel.

"Peter … it's beautiful." Claire breathed, hardly daring to put another step forward for fear she'd be lost forever to the paradise beckoning before her.

She could tell he was trying not to be blasé about everything, but his familiarity with the house couldn't be covered so easily. He shrugged imperceptibly, one of their bags on each shoulder. "Yeah, it's pretty nice." He paused, struggling to keep his hold. "Not as beautiful as you though."

Even after a week of his blatant and very gratifying worship, Claire still wasn't used to being called beautiful on a daily basis. The only other person who had reminded her so readily of her worth had been her father and even then it was in an entirely different manner. Peter made her feel so wonderful, so alive and so worthy at the same time.

To cover her flustered state, she ran to help him with the bags. "Here, I don't think I should let you do all the heavy lifting. Nathan will kill me if you sprain something and had to be admitted again." The Petrelli family had an ongoing pool about when Peter would manage to land himself in hospital again. Of course it was all in jest (mostly) as Peter had thankfully avoided any further stays since his last run in with Sylar.

Peter laughed sarcastically, letting them a little petulantly into the house. "You better watch it, or maybe you won't be getting your tour after all."

"Oh, I think I can manage to persuade you." She said coyly, giving him a doe-eyed stare. She was gratified to see that the effect was almost immediate. His lips moistened and his eyes widened, unwittingly fixed on her rosy lips. She dropped her pink overnight bag onto the polished hardwood floors which landed with a heavy thud. She walked slowly up to him, wrapping her slender arms around his neck.

All Peter could do was blink several times as she leaned in slowly. He stood frozen like a deer caught in headlights, still holding one of their bags in each hand. Claire waited until the last possible moment to pull away. It was a little funny really, seeing his entire body so primed and ready to go.

Peter made a strange whimpering sound. "You're a tease." The thought finally occurred to him to drop the bags. She giggled at his crestfallen expression, his pout making her explode into a fit of laughter.

He stood waiting for her laughter to subside, hands on hips. He really did look a little put out. Claire felt slightly bad, so she draped her arms around his waist and gave him a long, lingering kiss that left both of them breathless. "Aw, I'm just playing Peter, you know I love you." Her smile dipped a bit as she realised that it was the first time she had said it to him since their slightly melodramatic declarations the day before. But she needn't have worried, the Cheshire-like grin that broke out on his face told her that he loved hearing her say it.

Claire made a mental note to say it more often. The smile faded from his expression then, leaving a wondrous, slightly bewildered look. It seemed like the thoughts and feelings that were racing through Claire's mind were also mirrored in his. She couldn't believe she and Peter were finally here – they had finally made it to a point in their lives when a connection wasn't forbidden, their closeness was safe and their love open for all the world to see.

She stared at him, noting his lustrous lashes that curled into infinity and the darkening passion in his wide, beautiful eyes. She found her hand idly tracing the contours of the scar on his chest that, although covered by his tailored striped shirt, she knew for a fact was there.

He tilted her face up to his gently, slowly, as if savouring the moment and those to come. Their lips met at the instant that the hearts connected, everything around them melting into a meaningless abyss. Nothing in that crystalline moment mattered to Claire besides being close to Peter and nothing was more important that she being able to love him the way he deserved to be loved.

They spent an incredible day exploring the extensive grounds. True to his word, Peter had obediently acted as tour guide, impressing her with his knowledge of his family estate. Although it was never mentioned, it was obvious that growing up, he had spent quite a few hours exploring the grounds on his own and getting to know the people that actually kept the place as gorgeous as it was.

"How big is this place?" Claire breathlessly asked, stunned by the beauty around her.

"About two acres. It's not that big." Peter had shrugged, constantly amused by her awe.

They explored the town and its surrounds for the rest of the afternoon, with Peter relinquishing control of the convertible. Everywhere she looked, the greenery was relentlessly beautiful. She could now understand why the rich and famous were so keen to set up their summer homes in the Hamptons. "I had no idea it was so great here."

Peter chuckled, giving her a quick kiss. "It grows on you, that's for sure."

They had dinner back at the house at the gazebo overlooking the Grunite pool. Marble benches lined the pool on either side, with the leafy oaks providing comfortable relief from the setting sun. Peter had even gone as far as having arranged to have food from his favourite restaurant delivered.

"You're such a romantic." Claire teased, giving him a coy wink. Not that she was complaining or anything – she couldn't think of a single girl that would have complained about her guy being too romantic.

"And I'm not ashamed of it." He declared impishly, leaning in to plant a long, lingering kiss. She had to admit, she was starting to get used to Peter's lips on hers, but the familiarity of the gesture didn't faze her in the slightest. It felt like home to her – it was where she belonged.

By the time they finished dinner the sun had set, with the clear sky and the pearly glow of the moon providing a picture perfect backdrop. They walked, their hands entwined, back up to the house.

Claire sighed happily. In many ways, today had been the perfect day. "Are you happy?" Peter whispered quietly into her ear, a ghost of a smile on his face.

"Very." They were standing just outside the French doors that led into the living room. She halted at the threshold, wrapping her arms around him and drawing him closer to her. "This is …" She smiled bashfully. "I am happy. Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me." They were so close now their foreheads touched, reminding her of the many times before they had been this close. But that had been before they had allowed themselves to express what they must have always known to have been there. "I love you. I have a feeling I always will."

His heartfelt confession made her happy – supremely so – because there was no longer a reason for her to hold back how she truly felt about him. That she had always loved Peter Petrelli in some shape or form, whether as her hero, her friend or her perfect other could now be open for all the world to see. Claire didn't need words to express the way she felt. In one perfect, blinding instant she knew that this was definitely who she was meant to be with.

The brush on her lips he gave her tasted of everything that she felt in the core of her being, sweetness, passion and the heat being generated between them coursing through her veins. Kissing Peter was like no other feeling on the face of the planet, it was all satiating the hunger that persistently clung to her, drinking out of a well when her throat was parched, coming in sight of dry land after having been lost at sea.

They clung to each other, their kisses become tighter, more urgent, more heated. Claire allowed her entire body to melt into his, suddenly feeling the burning need to be as close to him as physically possible. He responded in kind, opening his mouth to attack hers, exploring the caverns of her mouth so tantalisingly it made her moan in desire. His hand settled down onto the small of her back, pressing his arousal against her, making her own body respond in kind.

Now that she felt him – really felt him – she was no longer afraid of how things would go. This was what she had always wanted, craved, needed. To be close to Peter like she had never been before, something that would consummate and seal their relationship for all time.

She was barely aware of anything besides the heat of his body pressing against hers, her urgent need to be as one making everything but the two of them melt into a chasm of nothingness. Dimly she felt them do a rather awkward tango through the French doors and into the house; but nothing really mattered but the feel of his lips on hers, his hands grinding into her or her hands running over his lean body, making him groan in desire. She wouldn't have cared whether they were out in the garden or in the car or as their first kiss had been – on a smelly old couch on top of Nathan's campaign headquarters – as long as she was with him.

They danced, twirled and stumbled their way through the maze of furniture, with Peter alternatively swearing into her mouth on colliding into something, or Claire wincing as Peter backed her against a wall with a little more force than intended. It really didn't matter though; between Claire's instant healing and their passionate kissing and exploration of each other's bodies, she doubted they would even notice at this point if one of them caught on fire.

She was sandwiched between the wall and Peter, his body pressed so hard against hers her feet barely touched the ground. Not that she cared, because the next moment she had surrendered herself completely to their heated need, wrapping her slender legs around his waist and willing them to make the final connection.

Because they had been so careful to control their feelings for such a long time, their pent up passion and repressed emotions now flooded out with unnatural force, gushing out in a torrent of fire and excitement. Claire couldn't wait to get those darn clothes off him, clothes that really seemed to be the last in a long line of obstacles they had conquered together. The rhetorical answer to every question that had hung unanswered between them in the last few years of 'we'll cross that bridge when we come to it' – that question would no longer remain unanswered. They were crossing the bridge and nothing in this world could have stopped them.

Peter was moaning, kissing her lips and the crook of her neck and trailing kisses down her shoulders and chest and he just couldn't do anything that would have made Claire not want him more. She had never seen him so abandoned before and she wanted to completely and utterly embraced it. They were both heaving breathlessly as if they were running a very long race, their bodies becoming drenched in sweat.

And they hadn't even had time to get their clothes off yet. His body rocked against hers back and forth with insatiable hunger and it was all she could do to gasp out. "Bedroom –"

Peter muffled the rest of her words with an urgent, fiery kiss. "Can't wait." He managed to gasp, as he grinded against her. "I can't wait that long." They were riding the torrent of passion so heavily now that his garbled words actually made sense to her. He was right, the walk – run, stumble, dance to the bedroom upstairs on the other side of the house was really as insurmountable as saving the world while having these feelings streaming through their veins. The floor in front of the fireplace would have to do.

He suddenly had too many clothes on. She reached down and roughly grabbed his belt, trying to undo it as fast as humanly possible. Peter evidently thought she was taking far too long, releasing her momentarily to quickly yank his belt off. As he was throwing it across the room, Claire busily unzipped his jeans, freeing him completely. Her fingers brushed against him, eliciting a keen moan of pleasure at her first touch.

He grabbed her roughly, flinging her to the floor. The cool slate tiles that had impressed her earlier in the day seemed inconsequential now besides giving her body relief from the heat that they generated as they rubbed against together, the friction from their contact making them in turn more frenzied.

He tugged his jeans off while she quickly divested herself of her top, his hands busily running up and down her body, caressing her thighs, her torso, her chest, her back, all the while looking down at her with hunger in his eyes. His hands seemed to be everywhere, running up and down her body as if he creating a sensory memory, tracing each and every contour as if committing it into his mind.

Their eyes locked in the midst of their embrace, crystal ones against deep, murky pools of tormented desire. "Are you sure?" Peter whispered feverishly and she had to give him a lot of credit for even asking her at this point. His eyes were fiery, flaming and scorching with his desire for her, but he was still enough of a friend to ask whether she really wanted this.

Of course she did. She wanted it so much it hurt and she could barely contain it anymore. Every sinew of her body tingled with desire for him and ached for his touch. She wanted him inside her so much it hurt to breathe just knowing he was there beside her but not within her. "Never been surer. I love you."

He didn't need further encouragement and soon Claire truly knew what it felt like to be so completely lost to another human being. She felt ecstatic, fulfilled and elated at the same time. Not purely because of the physical sensation of his closeness – Niki had warned her that the first time wasn't always the best time – but just having him inside her, her feeling so close to him – the feeling was breathtaking.

They were finally together as she had always wished, hoped, desired to be. It was the culminating moment of their long history together and Claire knew that she would never feel so complete again. They were two halves of the same whole, and they would only be completely whole in the brief moments when they were physically and emotionally joined.

He thrust deeply and feverishly in and out of her, apparently having already given in to whatever animalistic urges he had been holding in check for Claire's sake. For from minding the rough edges of his passion, Claire felt exhilarated by it. In fact, she felt the same way, arching as far into him as she could, running deep scratches down the length of his back and feeling the heat well up inside her as she heard his increasingly strangled gasps of desire and pure, wanton lust for her.

The air was heavy with their increasingly strangled moans, their passion and fervour crescendoeing dramatically until at last they climaxed as one.

Afterwards, as he drew her sweat drenched body against his, he murmured, his breath caressing her ear. "I love you Claire. I love you."

Claire stared, exhausted, up at the ceiling. A smile crept onto her face and she had just enough energy to gasp out. "I love you too Peter."