After watching his daughter fly away with Sylar, Noah immediately began scheming. Although, he had to admit, that before he could concoct any visible plans, he fantasized about Sylar's bloody end a few times. What was he going to do about the pair? Clearly, Claire had been involved with the serial killer and had been flat out lying to protect the bastard. How far did their connection go? They seemed very—familiar. Noah refused to believe it was romantic, preferring denial to acknowledging what it truly seemed to be. Claire could never be with Sylar that way after all he's done. Not his Claire-bear, who swore to hate him for the rest of her immortal life.
Without much excuse, he stormed into Sandra's, grabbed his belongings and went on his way, leaving behind his very confused ex-wife. He peeled out of the driveway. Noah would speak with Claire and discover the absolute truth before deciding on his course of action. He needed all the facts before he could go head-to-head with Sylar.
Noah used his key for Claire's apartment. She'd be furious if she knew he had made a copy, but he wasn't really concerned with that at the moment. Claire hadn't arrived yet so he situated himself at the kitchen table and eagerly awaited her return.
Claire stretched, enjoying the satisfying pop that accompanied it. Warm arms pressed her closer. An involuntary smile spread as she turned to face a slumbering Gabriel, raising her hand to trace the features of his face. He sighed and nuzzled into her further. "Gabe," she whispered.
"Hmmm…"he burrowed his face into his pillow clearly unwilling to fully wake. She laughed quietly. He always had been a late sleeper. Claire untangled herself from his almost smothering grip, grabbing his shirt off the floor and made her way to the kitchen. After a long tedious search she decided that she'd have to remember to pick up a few things. Maybe once Gabriel finally woke, they could go out for breakfast. They hadn't been on a date in quite some time, having been trying to avoid her ever suspicious father.
Claire made herself some much needed coffee and situated herself in front of the television. Why was there never anything on? It was all bad soap operas and lame talk shows. She finally settled on an old sitcom she'd seen many times over.
She had watched several episodes before movement caught her eye. Gabriel strolled into the room rubbing at his eyes. "Morning," she said as he plopped down beside her, immediately placing his head on her shoulder. "Awe sleeping beauty still tired?" Claire began to pat his hair.
Gabriel sat up and said almost seriously, "Real funny Claire; maybe I wouldn't be so exhausted if someone hadn't kept me up all night."
"She must be some woman," she smiled wickedly.
"Must be," he leaned closer so that his lips pressed against her neck, hands fiddling with the top button of her shirt. She relaxed into the back of the couch letting her eyes close as his hand slipped into her shirt massaging a breast. "Claire," She groggily opened her eyes, staring up at him. "I'm glad you're here. I half expected you to disappear while I was sleeping."
"Well it's completely possible. A bomb could go off and you wouldn't wake up."
"That's not what I meant."
"Yeah I know. I glad I'm here too. It's been some time since I've been to your apartment. It looks—the same."
"Mock me if you will woman, but you aren't hurting my feelings."
"Sure I am. You're just not man enough to admit it."
"I think you got that wrong. See, if I was man, enough, I would never admit to you actually hurting my feelings."
"So are you saying that I did, in fact, hurt your feelings?"
"Definitely not." They both broke into laughter, Claire holding her sides.
"Hey let's go out for breakfast. There's nothing edible in this place." He gave her a grin. "I meant food you perv."
He shrugged and lifted himself off the couch, holding out his hand. "Ok, but we need a shower first." Claire eagerly took his hand and led the way to the bathroom.
Gabriel slid into the seat opposite Claire and wasted no time grabbing her hand, squeezing gently. Claire watched as he accepted the menus from the hostess, immediately flipping through it. Claire took hers, but continued to stare at Gabriel.
"Why do insist on looking at the menu? You order waffles every time."
"Well, maybe something else will catch my eye. Nothing has been decided yet."
"Yes it has," Claire mumbled under her breath. He looked up at her, but didn't say anything. He returned his attention back to the menu after a few seconds.
A smiling waitress soon appeared pen in hand to take their order. Claire gave hers and turned to Gabriel, eagerly awaiting his decision. She raised an eyebrow.
"Umm, I think I'll have the waffles please," he handed over his menu.
Claire waited for the woman to retreat back into the kitchen before she gave him a knowing smirk. "I knew it. You just couldn't resist, not even to prove me wrong."
"I'm a man of habit Claire. Why change it up now?" Unsatisfied with her lack of response he continued. "Besides, they have fucking awesome waffles here." He took a sip of his coffee. "So, Claire, we really didn't get to do a lot of talking last night. What happened with your dad?"
"Same as usual, he wants to kill you."
"Does he still think a bullet to the back of the head will do it?"
"I think he's really serious this time."
"Retirement must not be agreeing with him very well." Gabriel snorted in near disgust. "He's probably watching us right now. No, scratch that, he has a team doing the dirty work for him, reporting back to daddy dearest this very instance."
"That's not funny; it's probably true."
"Don't worry Claire. Noah's going to just have to accept that you're with me, and if not, well, there's nothing much he can do about it." He began rubbing the back of her hand reassuringly.
The waitress appeared with their food. Gabriel smiled delightfully at his waffles wasting no time devouring them. What was with that man and waffles anyway?
A/N : Okay, I couldn't resist the whole sylar/waffles clique.