It's in the Blood // Claire & MohinderMature

Claire was feeling a plethora of things at that moment, but ‘hungry’ was not one of them. She rarely had a large breakfast, unless she had an assignment on her docket. That, combined with a slight hangover (both emotional and physical), and the last thing she wanted was food.The man was so earnest, however, that for a moment, she forgot the misery she’d been wallowing in since the previous night long enough to actually take the offered bite, catching a glimpse of a plate of charred and folded crepes in the process. She wondered what time he’d gotten up to actually do all of this. Had he been unable to sleep? Shoving speculation aside, she looked at the offered bite, to Mohinder’s face, then back to the food. With an inward sigh, she took it, licking the crumbs off her lips. She noted the proximity of him, but was too inwardly focused to mind one way or the other.

“It’s very good,” she admitted with a tiny smile. And indeed, it was. Then again, the many 'practice pancakes,’ as the phrase went, had probably gone a long way toward helping that. Taking in the spread he’d prepared, Claire’s resolve melted just a bit, and she pulled the plate toward her. Hungry or not, it wouldn’t hurt her, and he’d clearly put a lot of effort into the meal. It was the least she could do for him, since she had a feeling she would end up hurting him before this was over.

That thought was like a smack in the face. Forgetting the misery only made it that much more poignant as she came back to herself. Tucking her hands into the ends of her sleeves, Claire sat down at one of the stools surrounding the kitchen island and kept her face pointedly void of her internal turmoil. Pretending to be absorbed in the toppings, she swallowed and chose both strawberry and chocolate; she was in the mood for something sweet, unusually. 

“You shouldn’t have gone through all the trouble,” she said, spooning the toppings on nonetheless. “I’m not anyone special, and it’s only breakfast.” There was a hint of a smirk on her face to soften the words. Claire knew he meant well, and for all she knew, he regularly made large breakfasts. Still, she couldn’t help but feel that he’d done this for her, in hopes of some kind of….celebration? Some show of skill or affection? Regardless, it only made her feel bad, which was a new and uncomfortable sensation. Taking another bite of her crepe, she savored the fresh flavors and nodded approvingly at Mohinder.

The End

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