Title: It's Not Cupcakes
Characters/Paring: Peter & Claire friendship and cuteness :D
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1250
Spoilers/Warnings: I wouldn't advise reading it if you haven't watched S4, but nothing really spoiler-ish for anything after the S3 finale...
Summary: This certainly wasn't the first time he had come home from work at the hospital to smell the obvious scent of baking drifting through the apartment.
Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes. :(
A/N: Simple, humour, slightly fluffy, and a bit nostalgic Paire dedicated to my dear friends Izzy and Ellie because I think they both need some cheering up lately. :) ILU both so much. This was written with the idea that, as much as I love it, the whole brave new world thing doesn't happen. I couldn't figure out how to work it in. XD But yes. ILU, Ellie and Izzy. Here's to better days!

Peter grinned crookedly as he shut the door to the apartment, sliding out of his coat and throwing it over the back of the easy-chair in the corner of the room. The gentle aroma of baked goods filled the apartment, and he took a loud, obvious breath, breathing it out in a rush.

"I see you got my mom to give you her extra key again," Peter said as he sauntered towards the kitchen. "I should just get you one made. What're you baking?"

Claire flew into him before he could get through the doorway, ushering him away with a rolling pin, her hair pulled back into a ponytail to keep it out of her face, flour smeared on her shirt and neck and all over her arms.

"Uh uh! No way! No peeking," she scolded, though there was a twinkle in her eyes.

"Is it cupcakes?" Peter guessed with a laugh as he settled down on the couch; Claire had a huge affinity towards making those, as he had quickly and often discovered over the past couple of years. This certainly wasn't the first time he had come home from work at the hospital to smell the obvious scent of baking drifting through the apartment; when Nathan had first died she had come up every weekend in spite of his insistence that she stay in Virginia and that he was, in fact, fine.

(He hadn't been, of course, but Peter had never wanted to admit that to Claire, even if he knew she could see right through him.)

Her visits weren't as strictly scheduled anymore, though; since she had graduated from college she sometimes came up during the week, too, and he was secretly starting to suspect that she had somehow moved into his apartment without his noticing.

"It's not cupcakes," she told him with a tongue-in-cheek smirk, tapping him affectionately on the shoulder with the rolling pin before skip-hopping back towards the kitchen, taunting him in a sing-song voice, "You'll just have to waaait~! Stay on the couch! And if you have Matt's ability right now, no reading my mind!"

"Caught me," Peter sighed with a grin as he settled back into the couch's cushions, grabbing the remote and flicking on the television. It was set on VH1, and Peter rolled his eyes as he switched it to the news. "How long have you been here? You know, I'm surprised I never turn it on to the Food Network for as often as you cook for me."

"Maybe you should start paying me for it," Claire quipped. "I mean, I'm slaving away in here."

"Hey, now, you're the girl who lets herself in," Peter defended himself breezily. "It's not like I call you up and say, 'Get over here, woman, and bake me cupcakes!'"

"I'm not making cupcakes."

"'Get over here, woman, and bake me danishes'?" Peter tried again, before frowning. "It's an odd time of the day to be making danishes, Claire."

"I'm not making danishes either," Claire laughed, and Peter heard the distinct sound of the oven opening and a pan being lifted out. "God, of all things that can be baked you think of danishes second?"

"I actually thought of donuts second, but I didn't think that was it," Peter admitted, craning his neck to try and see around the doorway. He could hear her rustling in the kitchen and, as much as he hated to admit it, he was really, really hungry now that he had smelled the food. "Are you almost done? I heard you remove the tray."

"You're so impatient, just hold on a sec," Claire scoffed, but Peter could hear the smile in her voice even as she sounded annoyed. There was a little more rustling and he could distinctly hear the sound of her reaching into a plastic bag before she said, "Alright, do you want to help me--"

Peter was in the kitchen before she even finished her sentence, and he took in the sight of the round disc of baked dough on the tray with confusion.

"It's a... what is that?"

"What, you've never seen a giant sugar cookie before?" Claire poked at his side with the bottle of icing she had in her hand. "I saw one in the grocery store the other day and decided to try it." She waved the icing at him with a grin. "Now c'mon, help me decorate. No work, no eat."

"Yes, ma'am," Peter smiled as he took the tube from her, and Claire reached into the bag and pulled out another.

They worked in a comfortable silence for a while, drawing random, nonsensical icing patterns on the cookie. Quiet moments like these were what Peter loved the most about their relationship, whatever it was. Friends, confidantes, family... nothing seemed to be able to describe the two of them, and he was fine with that, glad that this unexplainable connection simply existed even if it managed to persistently escape definition.

Eventually it was Claire that broke the silence, blurting her question in a sudden, quiet voice, "Should I stop coming?"

Peter fumbled with the tube in his hand, effectively ruining the squinting icing-Hiro he had been attempting to draw, and he glanced at her in surprise. "What?"

"I mean it," Claire insisted, keeping her gaze locked firmly on the cookie and stubbornly refusing to meet his. "I feel like I'm imposing on you. At first it was just to keep you from folding in on yourself after Nathan died, but that... it was a long time ago."

Peter shook his head incredulously, setting the tube of icing down on the table as he turned to face her. "Claire." When she didn't look at him he tried again, softly requesting, "Claire, look at me. Please."

Claire's eyes met his with obvious hesitance, and he felt his heart breaking at the vivid insecurity shining in them that she failed to hide.

"Where's all this coming from?" he asked, furrowing his forehead in concern as he brushed a hand across her cheek. Claire smiled that sad smile he had always associated with her, leaning into his touch and shrugging a shoulder.

"I'm just here... all the time. I don't even tell you when I'm coming, I just stop by." She averted her gaze as though she felt guilty. "I mean, what if you wanted to have guests? I'd just be in the way."

"Hey," Peter frowned at her, gently moving her face back to look at his. "Claire, if I didn't want you here I would've told you a long time ago, okay?" He drew her into his arms, pressing a chaste kiss against the side of her head before whispering just above her ear, "There's nobody I'd rather have here than you. Got it?"

Claire nodded into the crook of his neck, twining her arms around him in return. "Got it." She breathed in his scent subconsciously, and Peter rolled his eyes as he felt her crinkle her nose against his skin. "God, you smell."

"Well, I was working all day," he said with a laugh, pulling away from her and backing out of the kitchen. "You finish the cookie and I'll take a shower. Then I'll be a bad influence and we'll eat it for dinner. Deal?"

"Yum," was Claire's agreement, and Peter grinned at her easily one last time before slinking into his room and shutting the door, with a quiet 'click', behind him.